#if you never played it go to lonely devil and play through that one on OG

[inhuman-obey-me]

Waltz at the Phoenix Hotel

Word Count: 4,075 Description: Spy!AU: You're attending a rather luxurious party, the scene for your agency's latest mission: an interception case. Things seem to be going smoothly...until they aren't, thanks to two strangers who ruin your plans and turn everything upside-down. Characters: MC, Lucifer, Mammon, Satan, Asmodeus, Diavolo, Barbatos, Solomon, Simeon Note: This is rather different for this blog. I (Mod Cosmos) started this fic nearly four years ago, when the Spy event came out on OG. I abandoned it shortly after, but Mod Chaos kept bugging me every now and then about finishing the fic because they just really wanted to read it for some reason. So, after all this time, I got some motivation and went back and finished it. Sorry if there seems to be a writing shift at one point -- didn't really go back and edit much in what I had written before. But I did change the random woman to Thirteen for fun, so hope you enjoy her little cameo. Can be found on Ao3 here.

You’re standing on the grand stone staircase leading to the expansive pool at the Phoenix Hotel, champagne glass in hand as you observe the crowd. The agency had received valuable intel that there was going to be an exchange tonight, one that would put an important amount of data in the wrong person’s hands. Tasked with intercepting the drop, you found yourself at a fancy cocktail party, rubbing elbows with some of the city’s most notable socialites. You have your eyes out for the target — you had a pretty good description — when you get a signal in your earpiece. 

“Black Sheep. How are things looking over there?” It was Lucifer, who was currently doing a perimeter check with Mammon. 

“Not much to report here, boss.” You took a sip of your champagne, hiding your lips so that no one noticed you speaking to thin air. “How about you?” 

“We’re finishing up. We’ll be back in the main party soon to help keep an eye out.”

“Keep us posted!” Mammon’s voice suddenly comes in, and you can hear a bit of a sigh from Lucifer’s end. “And make sure to watch out for any shady characters. Some of these guys can be real damn obvious.” 

“Some shady guys might look shady, huh? Thanks for the advice.” There’s no hiding the sarcasm in your voice, which earns a huff from the crowing agent. 

You sign off, taking a moment to admire the way the light reflects off of the surface of the pool, a web of light then bouncing off the surrounding marble statues. There are a good number of people out here, but there also wasn’t a clear and quick exit route. It might not be the most strategic place for a drop to take place, but you never knew what tricks your targets could pull. 

Deciding it might be best to check out the main party hall, you head back inside, giving a smile to the waitress who takes your now empty champagne glass from your hand. You give a few more smiles and nods of acknowledgment to those you pass by — wait, is that the actor from The Twilight of a Great Family? — no, stay focused. 

Grand chandeliers float above the floor where the crux of the party is, a great many more people than outside mingling and drinking the night away. You catch sight of Asmodeus and Satan, who are both working the crowd. You pass close by to hear snippets of their conversations — they’re both excellent liars, but as Asmodeus had said, Lies are like accessories, hun!, and you have to keep yourself from smiling as you hear their fibs. You catch Satan’s eye, who gives you a wink before returning to his conversation.

“To your left, Black Sheep.” You look in the aforementioned direction to see Mammon saunter in, Lucifer a few feet away. “We’ve got eyes over here.”

“And we’re covering the right wing.” It still felt odd hearing Barbatos’ voice through the ear piece. After the whole incident with the property purchase, no one expected that both he and Diavolo would now be part of their agency. They were good at what they did, there was no doubt about that, but countless missions later you still couldn’t get completely used to it. 

“Got it, I —” Suddenly, you notice a woman with long, colorful hair and piercing green eyes. She fits the description of the one who would be performing the drop tonight. “Alert. Target spotted.” 

“Where?” Lucifer inquires.

“Hard to miss. She stands out a bit for a covert drop. She’s near the bar, busy talking with others. She seems to be paying a bit of extra attention to her clutch.” You start making your way to the bar, figuring it provided a good vantage point to keep an eye on her while not drawing suspicion. “I’ll stay close.” 

“Be careful. We’ll be here to see if any of the mentioned accomplices are around.”

You go to hover at the bar, though ask if you can just get some sparkling water with lemon. As tempting as a drink would be right now, you had a mission, and the last thing you needed was to mess up because you thought to get boozy. 

“Excuse me, can I get the house whiskey, neat?” You turn to see a young handsome gentleman right by your side, silver wintry locks framing his face. He turns slightly to you with a charming smile, one that reaches his eyes, an interesting mix of brown and blue — but you know not to ever let your guard down. “Why, hello. Enjoying the party?”

“Yes, it’s been a marvelous evening so far.” You give him a polite smile. If you strike up a conversation with him, you can keep an eye on your target without appearing suspicious or obvious. “And how about yourself?”

“I could say the same, though I do wonder,” He nods his head in the direction of the pool. “How smart of an idea it is to have a bar by the pool with all these people in their fancy dress. Imagine someone just falling right in. Terrible.” Despite his words, he has a grin on his face. 

You let out a soft laugh before taking another sip of your beverage, glancing in the direction of the woman you were tailing. She was still busy in conversation with a small crowd, though you caught her looking towards one of the bartenders. Is that who she’s going to give the data to…?

“Why do I get the feeling like you’re suggesting pushing someone in?” You respond, turning slightly to lean against the bar. 

“Me? Never!” The man laughed, his eyes seeming to sparkle. He gave the bartender a ‘Thank you!’ as he received his drink. Taking a small sip, he continued to converse with you. “Are you here with anyone else?”

“Oh, a few friends.” You make a vague motion to the rest of the crowd. “They’re all mingling out there. How about yourself?” 

“I came here with one other friend, but I lost sight of him … he’s probably in the middle of one of these groups.” He waves his hand dismissively after taking a glance around, lifting his glass up for another sip. “Hopefully I’m not bothering you?”

“Oh, no, not at all.” You smile your loveliest of smiles, hoping to continue conversing with him as a cover. Your target was inching her way closer to the bar, and you counted yourself lucky that this was going so smoothly so far.  “So, tell me about the symbols on that ring…” 

Ugh, these people are a bore, Asmodeus thinks to himself as he shifts into yet another conversation. No one he had talked to had been particularly interesting, and even less so informative. That was the nature of their work, in the end — not every situation would actually be helpful. The few he was talking to currently were droning on and on and — Oh? Suddenly, Asmodeus catches sight of a rather beautiful stranger. That perks him right up, and so he excuses himself from the monotonous individuals and made his way over to the other.

“Hello there, handsome.” Asmodeus flashes his most charming smile, long lashes fluttering. “How are you doing this fine evening?” 

“Oh, you flatter me.” The attractive stranger smiles warmly, a tinge of red appearing on his dark skin as he brushes aside a strand of soft, brown hair. “And I’m doing quite well, thank you. Yourself?” 

“Much better now that I have some wonderful company.” Asmo raises his champagne glass, one that he had hardly taken a sip of the entire time he held it this evening. “The name’s Ayden. What’s yours?”

“Scorpion, make sure you’re staying on task.” Lucifer’s warning voice came through his earpiece. The flirtatious agent makes a signal behind his back, communicating “Don’t worry, this is work!”

“You can call me Henry.” He raised his glass to meet the other’s. “To be honest, I wasn’t sure what to expect, but there are far more people here than I thought there would be.” His brilliant cerulean eyes glance around the hall before returning to Asmodeus, his gaze soft. “Apologies if I come across as a bit nervous. I moved here recently, so a friend insisted I tag along. Though, not sure where he’s gone off to now … ” 

“Ah, don’t worry about a thing, my dear Henry! I’m sure you’ll find your friend. But until then, I’ll keep you company. So, tell me, what brought you to the city .. ?” Asmodeus began his series of questions to get people to open up, to perhaps give something away, let just the tiniest detail slip that might give him something that he wants … flirting was just a bonus. 

As they converse, Satan hovers close by. He also hadn’t much luck with those he had been speaking to, none of them potential suspects for accomplices. Just rich and well-known folks running in the upper circles of society. Not to say that the conversations still couldn’t be interesting — there was always plenty to learn — but it was getting frustrating that they were having so little luck finding the people they wanted. At least Black Sheep has the main target, he muses, looking over to the bar to see them conversing with a stranger. The target was still nearby, arguably even closer to them then she had been before. 

“Apologies for the intrusion,” Satan walks over to his fellow agent and the stranger, earning a quick glare from Asmodeus. “But I just have to ask, where did you get that lovely white vest?” And just like that, Satan eases himself into the conversation, all the while continuing to observe the target from afar. 

Henry smiles at them both, continuing to engage in conversation quite happily, fingers seemingly idly fiddling with a ring on his right hand. 

“Fascinating. I really do wonder if you’re just trying to pull my leg here.” You’ve been deep in  conversation with this man for a bit now — Sal, he said his name was — and you had to admit he was certainly entertaining company. 

“Well, it’s up to you if you believe me or not.” He shrugs with a bit of a mischievous grin. 

“Black Sheep, looks like she’s getting ready to make the drop.” You hear Diavolo’s voice through your earpiece — he must have been watching from his current station. Sure enough, your target has removed a small silver case from her clutch as she leans against the bar a bit a ways from where you currently are — and the bartender is walking towards her. 

“Ah, apologies, I see one of my friends over there,” You push yourself away from the bar counter, taking a step towards the woman — though you make sure to take your still half-full glass of sparkling water with you. “It was very nice to meet you, Sal. Perhaps I’ll see you around later?” 

“Oh, of course. It was a pleasure to meet you as well.” He smiles, but there almost seems to be something off about it. You don’t have time to dwell on that, you remind yourself, and quickly make your way to the target, who looks like she’s about to order a drink. She’s covered the small case with a black bar napkin. Perfect.

You pretend to trip, purposefully letting your beverage spill all over the woman’s dress, eliciting a shocked gasp.

“Oh no! Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry!” You immediately apologize, hand going to grab the napkins from their place on the bar, swiftly collecting the one that hid the data as well.

The woman is obviously irritated, but tries to brush it off. “Mm. Accidents happen.”

“Thankfully it was just water, so it should dry up without any damage!” You reassure her, passing the ordinary napkins to her hand so that she could dab at the spill, all the while tucking your prize into your sleeve. A few more apologies and exchanges later, you make your exit, ready to declare mission success and get yourself out of here before the woman realized she was missing something very important.

At least, that was your plan. 

You’re about to radio in your triumph when a series of actions happens so quickly you don’t have time to react. Something (or rather, someone) causes you to actually trip this time, but you’re saved from an unsightly fall by fingers that gently but firmly wrap around your wrist and an arm around your waist. Before you can even begin to turn around to thank your savior, you hear a familiar voice in your ear,

“Sorry about this.”

A response can’t even leave your lips as you’re suddenly twirled away as if you were dancing the waltz, only to be found without a partner when you come back full circle. You can feel dread beginning to bubble up in the pit of your stomach, and you check to see if you have the small drive, patting yourself down.

It’s gone. Shit.

Your eyes dart around to find the culprit, and you manage to catch a glimpse of those silver locks disappearing into the crowd. 

“Uh, we’ve got a problem.” You run after him while alerting the rest of the agency. “Looks like someone else was after the data too. Tall guy, silver hair, navy blue suit with a lighter blue shirt. He’s running towards the West exit.”

You’re only met with static. 

“Hello? Can anyone hear me?”

The white noise continues. 

This couldn’t be happening … was something jamming their communicators?! 

You’ve lost sight of Sal — If that’s even his real name! — so you look around for any other familiar faces. Surely the others noticed by now that they couldn’t communicate with each other..?

“Hey!” Diavolo’s suddenly at your side. “Thank goodness I was keeping watch nearby — I can’t get through to anyone, but several of them had eyes on you, so they should be going after the guy.” 

Sure enough, you catch Lucifer and Mammon running out the West doors. Both you and Diavolo follow suit, trying not to raise too much of a commotion as you weave through the crowd. The cool night air is welcome as you’re feeling a bit too warm from running as your heartbeat races. A security guard tries to get in your way, but you both dash past him, calling out a “Sorry!” behind you as you continue your chase.

Moments Before ...

“Sorry, gentlemen, but looks like my friend is calling.” Henry gives the other two an apologetic smile. “It was lovely to meet you both. Perhaps we’ll meet again soon.” 

“It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Satan starts.

“—And I’d love to see you again. Give me a call when you get the chance?" Asmo finishes, slipping a card into Henry's hand. "Bye-bye, now!” He gives the departing gentleman a wink and wave before turning to his fellow agent with a sigh. “Well, he was an interesting fellow. Think he might be of interest in the future?” 

“He certainly seemed sharp,” Satan hums. “But also hard to read …” The blond shakes his head, taking the last sip of his drink. "Think our sheep's got the drop yet? Haven't heard an update…" He takes a moment to look around the party, and it dawns on him that he can't hear or see any of the others. "I think we have a problem."

"Hm?" Asmodeus slams the compact mirror in his hand shut, eyes narrowing as he notices a sudden commotion by the West entrance. "Well, I think we've got a bit of fun on our hands."

Static comes over the communicators, a distorted voice coming through: Tchhh…upstairs…tchhh…roof…tchhh

"Fun isn't the word I'd use." Satan huffed. "Let's go."

You're thankful that Barbatos memorized the layout of the hotel and its surroundings before the mission, as he managed to get ahead of the thief and block him from going any further on this quieter side of the promenade. Lucifer and Mammon flank him from the other side, effectively backing him against the wall.

"Really thought you could get past all of us?" Mammon mocks, confidently putting out a hand, fingers waving in a 'gimme' motion. "Hand it over, pal."

"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about—"

"Oh, save it!" You catch up, slightly out of breath with Diavolo on your heels. "You know exactly what he means. You stole something from me, so hand it over."

"Stole?" That damned mischievous smile again. "Weren't you doing the same thing? Not sure any of you have more right to it than I do."

"That may be true." Chills run down your spine as Barbatos speaks. "But it would be in your best interest to comply and give us what we're asking for, before things take a rather nasty turn."

"HEY!" A couple of burly hotel security personal charge towards you. "What's going on?!"

"Well, have fun with that!" Taking advantage of the distraction, Sal managed to hoist himself up to the fire escape that was hanging above, scampering up a ladder before diving through an open window that's promptly shut behind him. He's not alone!

"Sorry, officers. We'll be out of your hair in a moment!" Diavolo steps forward to distract the guards, signaling for the rest to pursue. "It's just a bit of a personal issue. I'll be happy to explain everything…"

"Door to the right, should go into the service stairwell." Barbatos taps a hacked keycard and unlocks the door, yanking it wide open. "I'll stay here in case they come back down, you all better hurry."

"Don't have to tell us twice," you sprint up the stairs, Mammon ahead and Lucifer behind.

"They're escapin' by going up? This place has 9 floors, right?" Mammon asks, and you think back to what you remember of the hotel blueprint.

"Crap." Realization dawns on you, your heart pounding as loud as your steps hitting the concrete stairs. "There's a private helipad on the roof. Think they got an escape helicopter?"

"Let's assume they do." Lucifer replies, but your upward ascent is shortly interrupted by a loud scream on floor seven. The door swings open, a housekeeper stumbling into the stairwell, her eyes widening as she sees all of you.

"Sorry ma'am!" A familiar voice from the hallway, and you whip around the landing and housekeeper to dart into the corridor, jumping over an overturned housekeeping cart to see that Satan and Asmodeus have cornered Sal — and another. His accomplice.

"And I thought we had something special, Henry! Or whatever your name is!" Asmodeus pouts, stun gun in hand and pointed firmly at the beautiful stranger. Satan had his aimed at the one more familiar to you. "Now, how about you hand it over and we can forget all about this, hm?"

"I'm afraid that's not possible." Henry responds with a soft yet dazzling smile.

"You're outnumbered, five to two." Lucifer steps forward, his expression stern. "You don't have much of a choice."

"Now, now," Sal responds, putting his hands up as if to surrender. "I think we might actually all be on the same side here. We're both trying to make sure this data doesn't get in the wrong hands, right?"

"You could very well be the wrong hands." Satan snarls. "You don't exactly inspire confidence."

"Ouch!" Sal chuckles, shaking his head. "Look, we've actually heard about you guys. One of the best agencies around. We didn't realize you'd also be here when we picked up this intelligence. A fault on our contact's part."

"We do, however, have good reason to believe that this data is essential to a very important case." Henry shifts in place, and you notice his thumb brushing against a ring on is middle finger. "Which is why we're reluctant to give it up. If we can come to an agreement…"

"Not a chance!" Mammon huffs, his hand going to his own stun gun. "We've got no reason to trust you two."

"Hmph." Lucifer shoots a look to Mammon. "Hand it over to us first, and then we can see about any agreements."

"And what if you just take it for yourselves?" Sal shakes his head, a hand going into his inner suit pocket. "We'll need something a bit more concrete than that."

Ding. The sound of an arriving elevator sets a flurry into motion.

"Oh no you don't!" Asmodeus snaps as the two start moving, his finger hitting the trigger on his weapon — only for nothing to happen, and you feel the hair on your neck rise. "What the…?"

A loud hiss hits your ear next and you recognize the sound of a smoke bomb going off, your vision clouded. Coughing as you try to get a handle on your surroundings, you make out two shadows sprinting through the hallway.

"Fuck, they hit us with an EMP! No wonder our guns didn't work." You hear Satan behind you as you lunge towards the elevator lobby, cursing as you slam right into the doors as they shut.

"Damn it. Everyone, to the stairs!"

"Wait," Lucifer is beside you now. "They're not going up — they're going down."

"Down…wait, the parking garage!"

"You lot go upstairs just in case," Lucifer commands of Mammon, Satan, and Asmodeus as you all reach the stairwell. "We'll go down and try to get a hold of the other two."

Hands gripping the railing, you and Lucifer both leap down the stairs, nearly free-falling at times as you skip over landings — one moment your foot touches the floor, the next you're in the air again as you make another leap.

"Dragon. Butler. Can you two hear us? They're escaping through the parking garage!" You frantically speak, hoping the communicators are working again.

"Tchhh…can't…zhhhh…in pursuit."

The garbled message means something got through, and you can only hope that Diavolo and Barbatos got the gist of your message.

Bursting through the doors of the parking garage, you hear a motor revving along with a chorus of yells. You exchange a look with Lucifer and both dash towards the furor, only to hear a loud crash in a matter of seconds.

"We've got them!" Diavolo shouts the moment he sees you and Lucifer, his hand on the car's driver-side handle, ready to rip the door open.

But when he does, there's no one inside.

"What—" Diavolo's jaw hangs open, with Barbatos glowering beside him.

A screech of tires, and you all turn to see a motorbike peel out on the far other side of the garage. The shock leaves your bodies as you all race to the other exit, only to see that the two intruders were long gone.

"How many escape plans did they come up with?!" Adrenaline still pumping through your veins, you kick a concrete pillar in frustration.

"You lost them?!" Satan's voice echoes through the structure, the others having now come to join the rest of the agents left bewildered by the night's events.

"Those two…they're good." Asmodeus whistles, bristling as several others shoot him a glare. "What? They are! They managed to get away from us, all seven of us!"

"We need to find out who they are." Barbatos sighs. "Perhaps Leviathan can help track them down if we can collect any footage."

"I think we'll be needin' to make our escape first." Mammon glances over his shoulder. "Somethin' tells me the hotel staff and security aren't gonna be too happy with us causing such a ruckus."

"Right, let's get out of here and regroup." Lucifer massages his temple. "We've got a lot of work ahead of us."

Defeated, you all scamper to your own getaway vehicles, the faint sound of approaching police sirens putting an extra pep to your step and a rev to the engines.

As you settle into your seat, you take stock of what you still had on you. Your stun gun, your communicator, a few other covert tools, and — wait, what's this?

A business card tucked into your belt, thick and smooth to the touch. Through the passing streetlights, you can see there's a single word in the center, embossed in blue and gold:

PURGATORY

Flipping it over, there's a string of digits, with a handwritten note underneath:

Call me. ;)

You scoff in disbelief.

"What've you got there, hun?" Asmodeus looks up from his phone, glancing at your hand.

"Oh," you calmly pocket the card again. "…It's nothing."

[see-arcane]

You know the one good thing about being a pessimist?

It feels great to be proven wrong.

Bravo, Bobby Egg.

I was so happily surprised by this. This film went through a fantastic puberty between the leaked script and the screen. The main points to note:

-No, Ellen is not hot for Count Orlok. She and Thomas are 110% in love. There are even certain Harker-flavored quotes thrown in to prove as much. (Details under the cut.)

-Count Orlok is a terrifying bastard and a half. Significantly more imposing than classic Orlok’s spindly rigor mortis-stiff figure and only wearing a sliver of Dracula’s performative charm. He is a Devil-Death archetype playing a monster who operates in deceit and contracts to wring out what he wants. That and a lot of corpses.

-This film is so beautiful. No gothic touch is skipped.

In sum, I more than like this film. I love it. It isn’t perfect, because no film can be, but damn. I am so proud of this nightmare you made, Bobby Egg.

SPOILERS FOR Nosferatu (2024) BELOW

-Getting some cons out of the way. There are points where a few of the actors lean maybe a bit too heavy on the ham-and-cheese in their deliveries (I’ll not blame the kids, they’re very young, but yeesh. That’s some cartoon acting.)

Yes, the g-slur is still used; though while I wish it hadn’t appeared in Eggers’ script at all, it does make sense within the context of the setting, i.e. Thomas and the Innkeeper probably only having the one word they know, same as in Dracula. And yes, naked teenage girl-on-a-horse does happen for the vampire hunt scene. Whee.

-Now, an early pro: Eggers nixed the ‘hot teen girl tries to pickpocket Thomas’ bit, and the ‘land of phantoms and thieves’ line never happens. All that happens after Thomas wakes in the inn—post witnessing the vampire slaying in the local graveyard, mud on his shoes to prove it was real—is he discovers himself utterly alone. No people, no horse. Cue the long walk.

-Ellen doing the ‘Come to me,’ bit early on is her in adolescence. It’s revealed that her Weird Girl elements have been turned up to 11, tragic lonely past included (replete with dad threatening to send her to a madhouse), and her prayer was just for company. The psychic ping was picked up by Orlok, who took advantage, turning an isolated and desperate barely-more-than-a-kid’s wish into a ‘covenant.’

-Thomas was met not long after this, cue them being genuinely in love <3

-Knock Does Not Jerk Off On Screen. If he does, his back is to us, and Little Knock is covered with some occult tablet or suchlike while he’s doing his ritual business. Also he kills a guy in his cell. Using his teeth.

-Castle time! Thomas is greeted by a driverless carriage at a crossroads and seems to be hypnotized into stepping in. A lot of things Thomas does once in Orlok’s territory seem to very clearly have psychic puppet strings attached. That and some increasing terror on Thomas’ part. There is no warm Dracula-style welcome from Orlok when he arrives, but a terse and strange leading to the dinner table where paperwork is demanded.

- We get a glimpse of this version of the Count’s ego. Thomas calls him sir. Orlok demands Thomas address him as my lord. And then we get the bread cutting scene. Thomas’ thumb bleeds. Orlok get far too interested. His voice, a very guttural and rasping bass, turns into something closer to an animal trilling and growling. Thomas is paralyzed beside the fire; cut away as Orlok closes in.

-Ellen and Anna Harding have a bit of a Mina and Lucy deal going on at the beach. It’s sweet <3 (Prepare for pain </3)

 - Orlok starts getting tricky. He 1) borrows (steals) Ellen’s locket from Thomas and 2) Tricks Thomas into signing a contract to ‘sell’ Ellen/break their marriage via a strange contract in a language Thomas can’t read, with Orlok using the prop of some gold to imply that this is merely a document in ~his native language~ to complete the property sale. Thomas signs, less for the gold than to be gone from the castle and back to Ellen…only for Orlok to insist Thomas is not well. He must stay the night.

- No mind games here. Just Thomas pleading to leave and Orlok’s parting word being that he will stay, and that he will obey his orders.

-Orlok has already chomped Thomas on the tiddy as of last night. Next night, after Thomas almost lands a blow on him in the coffin—Orlok sleeps with his Orcock out in the box, by the way, alongside several rats—Orlok wills Thomas to unlock the door he shut between them. Cue Thomas being tranced onto the bed, pounced on, and basically dry-humped by Orlok as he drinks Thomas all but dry. Thomas is left that way, only to be woken by Orlok’s wolves��he has those too!—and go clambering out the window, dropping to the river below.

-Orlok makes Ellen’s life hell. Holy fuck. The 1838 quality ‘medicine’ definitely doesn’t help—corsets for correcting posture, draining blood because there’s too much in there, binding to the bedposts to stop sleepwalking, general drugging etc etc—but FUCK. Lily-Rose Depp did a great and terrible job of reproducing shaking fits and some of the faces and sounds she made had me thinking I might choke on my own tongue. And for all the sexually provocative poses/noises that happen, every time she comes out of it it’s clear that she hates this. It’s on par with psychic rape.

-The only times we see Ellen respond positively~ to Orlok’s dream-advances is when she’s telling Thomas about the ‘marrying Death’ dream where everyone died and she was deliriously happy and then the infamous trailer line about Thomas not being able to satisfy her as Orlok can~~~

Well guess what.

Guess fucking what.

That was Orlok leaning on her brain. The same way he did to Thomas when, eventually, after the nuns rescue him and pray the plague/vampirism out and he makes it home while half-dead, he lays in bed with Ellen and gets a panic attack combined with Orlok’s image being grafted over Ellen’s face…

…a reverse of the illusion Orlok gave him in the castle, with Thomas imagining it was Ellen on top of him instead. The effect terrifies Thomas all over again and he unwittingly tosses Ellen away, I can't breathe, get off of me, get off!

-Orlok does his murder snacking. Knock, who escaped, offers to find and kill Thomas to please the Count, literally on his hands and knees. Orlok calls him a dog and backhands him, insisting Ellen must be given, not stolen.

-Orlok has already visited Ellen by this time. He presses her to keep her deal with him. She tells him, flat out, I abhor you. In response, Orlok grabs her and chucks her like a ragdoll in a rage. He fumes, telling her he will give her three nights to pledge herself to him, and in the meantime he will start killing. (RIP to Anna and her little girls, the latter of whom ORLOK KILLS IN FRONT OF HER, EATING THEIR THROATS OUT AS SHE ENTERS THEIR ROOM.)

-Before all that, he spins bullshit about Thomas ~selling her to him for mere gold~. A technical truth that Ellen, mid-Orlok spell, spits back at Thomas amid a rage, along with details that are likewise based in only a granule of reality; but which Orlok did not mention in their scene together. Things like Thomas being weak and childish, that he ‘fell into Orlok’s arms like a fainting woman.’ Interesting choice of spin there, Orlok. But whatever.

This all culminates in what is either reality or a dream or a blend of both as Thomas makes sudden desperate love to her, Ellen weirdly heady about it, telling him yes yes yes they will show Orlok their love. Cue her snapping back to full cognizance (awake? dreaming?) as her eyes and mouth spurt blood in a vision. She collapses in fear and tears as Thomas holds her. AND THEN:

-Ellen. Drops. The I am unclean line. She wants Thomas away from her, she is not worthy, she puts him in danger.

-Thomas goes full Jonathan and clings to her. Nonsense. I love you. I love you. I love you.

-V i n d i c a t i o n

-Anyway.

-Dafoe-Von Franz-Van Helsing is a kooky science occultist. Finds a book that Knock had which fills the role of highlighting Orlok as Solomonari (hey, Scholomance shout out!) and Knock as a would-be beneficiary. Also includes the ‘maiden offers her body and blood to the monster to kill it via sunrise’ bit.

-While he reads this, he does NOT actually spell any of these details out to Ellen when they have their secret mini talk about tricking Thomas into hunting for the coffin with him and Sievers. He gives her a big ~you're the only one who can save us magic maiden martyr~ pep talk, but that's it. Meanwhile, Ellen was already preparing to offer herself to save Thomas and whoever’s left in Wisborg. Not the same kind of agency as the original, but still better than I was expecting.

-Harding, Thomas’ rich friend whose wife and children got drinked to death, dies of plague in the family tomb. They burn the bodies.

-In the ruin Orlok bought, cue the iron stake slamming down as they open the coffin..! But whoops. Knock’s in the box, not Orlok. Von Franz says Ellen offering herself is the only way~ Thomas doesn’t waste time throttling him, just makes a run for their home.

-Too late, of course. Orlok is there (with a very cool homage to the original stalking shadow silhouette routine) and Ellen welcomes him. While they are both naked in bed and it’s implied that they are/or intend to have sex, the bulk of the scene centers on Orlok taking Ellen’s blood from her breast. No clear shot of the Orcock on screen for that bit—Bobby Egg saved that pleasure for the Count flashing Thomas at the castle.

-Orlok’s death throes. Are so. Fucking. Cool. Definitely up there with one of the best vampiric demises I’ve ever seen on film. No spoilers there. You’ve got to see it.

-Heartbreak o’ Clock as Thomas bursts in just as Orlok has died and as Ellen is dying under him. There’s time for them to hold hands. And then she’s gone.

-We close on Von Franz popping up with some poetic soliloquy shit and a bunch of lilacs. The final beat is an overhead shot of Ellen, the Maiden, laying under the now-skeletal Orlok, as Death. Looks almost like a painting. Unlike the implication in the leaked script, she does not look happy/at peace. Simply asleep. The End.

-Other important notes:

1) Orlok has a little combover’s worth of hair on top and mighty and powerful ‘stache. Not Dracula-white, but it is there. Finally.

 2) The guy who plays Dr. Sievers has Alan Rickman’s voice. If he isn’t in opera, he should be.

3) I was too late to get a popcorn coffin box. I shall be in mourning until the New Year.

4) Bobby Egg if you can give me one more gift, let it be a deleted scene of Thomas beating Von Franz over the head with the iron stake, please and thank you <3

[padfootagain]

Your life seems perfect. You're engaged, your career is thriving as you become an assistant professor at Trinity College, and this Andrew Hozier-Byrne you're sharing an office with seems to be a nice guy you hope to call a friend soon. Life seems to be smiling at you... until everything goes sour. When your fiancé breaks up with you, your perfect world shatters. And when your colleague also gets his heart broken soon after, your shared office seems to be a curse rather than a blessing. But Andrew seems determined to mend your broken hearts... Will things finally go according to plan?

Pairing : Hozier x fem!reader

Professor! AU

Warnings: hurt-comfort, angst, fluff, no smut but suggestive scenes so 18+ only

Chapter 1 : 'And that orange, it made me so happy, as ordinary things often do just lately'

Chapter 2 : 'Through me the way to the City of Woe'

Chapter 3 : ‘I miss him in the wheeping of the rain; I want him at the shrinking of the tide’

Chapter 4 : ‘For he gave all his heart and lost’

Chapter 5 : ‘But here comes the lyrebird passing through the sky’

Chapter 6 : ‘I’ll lie here and learn how, over their ground, trees make a long shadow and a light sound’

Chapter 7 : 'And so I still wait, like a lonely house, for you to see me and inhabit me again. Until that time, my windows ache.'

Chapter 8 : 'I hope she never learns how to peel oranges'

Chapter 9 : 'I think I will always be lonely in this world, where the cattle graze like a black and white river-- where the vanishing lilies melt, without protest, on their tongues'

Chapter 10 : '[I] was angry that my trust could not repose in the clear light, like poetry or freedom leaning in from sea'

Chapter 11: ‘Lived to see you throwing me aside.’

Chapter 12 : 'Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air, are heading home again'

Chapter 13: ‘So as not to be the martyred slaves of time, be drunk, be continually drunk! On wine, on poetry or on virtue as you wish.’

Chapter 14: ‘Why should I blame her that she filled my days with misery’

Chapter 15: ‘He’s bored- I see it. Don’t I lick his bribes, set his bouquets in water?’

Chapter 16 : ‘Only the things I didn’t do crackle after the blazing dies’

Chapter 17 : ‘Dear pine cone, let me hold you as you open’

Chapter 18 : ‘What the devil do I care what I know, and what I say?’

Chapter 19: ‘I knew winter cold like the nuzzle of fjords at my thighs’

Chapter 20 : 'My heart has made its mind up and I’m afraid it’s you'

Chapter 21: ‘I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where, I love you directly without problems or pride: I love you like this because I don’t know any other way to love’

Chapter 22 : ‘And if you missed a day, there was always the next, and if you missed a year, it didn’t matter, the hills weren’t going anywhere’

Chapter 23 : 'Even the dearest that I loved the best are strange – nay, rather, stranger than the rest'

Chapter 24: ‘Sometimes, when I’m pleased, I let out a little sound. A poet noticed this and it made me feel I might one day properly be loved. Because no one is here to love me, I make tea for myself and leave the radio playing’

Chapter 25: ‘They will think of ways to make you smile so you can be happy for a while’

Chapter 26: ‘Well, how else are you to live except by denial’

Chapter 27: ‘They loved music and swam in for a singer, who might stand at the end of summer’

Chapter 28: ‘You are neither here nor there, a hurry through which known and strange things pass as big soft buffetings come at the car sideways and catch the heart off guard and blow it open’

Chapter 29: ‘My lover’s words were shooting stars which fell to earth as kisses on these lips’

Chapter 30: ‘You liked me well enough in black; I make you a gift of these objects’

Chapter 31 : ‘Six billion tons sounds impossible until I consider how it is to swallow grief’

Chapter 32 : ‘How dense it is, how it carries inside it the memory of collapse. How difficult it is to move then’

Chapter 33 : ‘The scent already in the air’

Chapter 34 : ‘One morning the wind turns, and there is a thaw. And so I must still have hope.’

Chapter 35 : ‘Love comes quietly, finally’

Chapter 36: ‘So I imagine such love of the world—its fervency, its shining, its innocence and hunger to give of itself—I imagine this is how it began’

Chapter 37 : ‘I found the other half above the pillow where you lay’

Chapter 38: ‘They are elsewhere beyond the night way higher than day in the blinding brightness of their first love’

Chapter 39: ‘He grew so tender and I so grateful which maybe tells you something about how it was’

Chapter 40 : ‘Where I does not exist, nor you, so close that your hand on my chest is my hand, so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.’

Chapter 41 : ‘Just one candle burning on, shadows lurking everywhere: some one came, and kissed me there’

Chapter 42: ‘Love in such a way, as I… love… you.’

Chapter 43: ‘The whole world depends on your pure eyes and all my blood flows into their gaze’

Chapter 44 : ‘I go up to the stone wall for a friendly visit.’

Chapter 45 : ‘Nobody, but nobody can make it out here alone.’

Chapter 46 : ‘Both of us, of the love which makes us one.’

Chapter 47: ‘To whom I owe the leaping delight that quickens my senses in our wakingtime and the rhythm that governs the repose of our sleepingtime’

Chapter 48 : ‘It’s love almost too fierce to endure, the bee nuzzling like that into the blouse of the rose’

Chapter 49 : ‘I am the blossom pressed in a book, found again after two hundred years’

Chapter 50 : ‘And I’d wonder sometimes if I’d ever find you.’

Chapter 51 : ‘Here begins a new life’

Chapter 52 : ‘I love you. I’m glad I exist.’

[caplanbuckybarnes]

In the Lonely Shadows

Summary: Crowely's always there to help convince you everything's going to be okay after Dean leaves with Lisa & Ben.

Requested by my beloved wife @midnight-moonlight-and-mars sometime back in March. LOL, sorry it’s been forever, my love.

Request: I've got a Crowley request! It can be platonic or romantic. It takes place the year Sam is resurrected and dean is living with Lisa. The reader was close with the Winchesters but after the fight with Lucifer dean abandoned the reader to be with Lisa and cas never answers ( unrequited love maybe?) so the reader teams up with Crowley and becomes like a bounty hunter for him for Lucifer loyalists. 

A/N: It's technically not Crowley x reader since she's pining for Dean. Oops, but I hope you enjoy this all the same, my love.

WC: 1054

Warnings: mentions of loneliness, and blood, the reader feels abandoned and unloved, crowley’s nice, however.

Read on Ao3!

--

It had been months since Dean had made his choice. The memory still stung—he chose normalcy, Lisa, and a life far from the chaos... far from you.

The moment Dean drove away to that suburban dream with Lisa and Ben, it was like a wound ripping open and never closing. You didn’t hear from him again, and there was no check-in or phone call—just silence. Castiel, too, was gone, leaving nothing but the ghost of his presence. Prayers went unanswered, and you were left alone with the echoes of battles fought and lives lost.

It was after Lucifer fell that everything seemed to break apart. Sam was gone—dead, you thought. Dean buried himself in the illusion of family, and you… well, you weren’t sure what you had anymore. There was no going back to who you were before the apocalypse, and your heart ached with unspoken feelings, ones that Dean never noticed.

He never loved you the way you loved him.

In the emptiness that followed, Crowley found you. The King of Hell always had impeccable timing. "You look like a stray," Crowley had said the night you crossed paths in some dingy bar in some forgotten town. "Lost your boys, I see. Shame. You were always good at what you do."

You could've walked away, but what was left? With nowhere to go and no one to fight for, you accepted Crowley’s offer—a devil's bargain, becoming a bounty hunter for Hell, tracking down Lucifer loyalists who still believed in the fallen archangel’s cause. It was dark work, but it was work, and it kept your mind from drowning in grief and longing.

The irony wasn’t lost on you. Hunting for Crowley meant betraying everything you’d once stood for, but that world had abandoned you first.

Months later, you stood in the ruins of an old church, blood splattered across the stone walls and broken angelic statues depicting Saints. The demon you’d tracked was a fanatic, a true believer in Lucifer’s return. You wiped your blade clean, not even flinching as the body burned to ash behind you. It was mechanical now—kill, move on. Feel nothing.

Crowley appeared, as he often did after a job well done. He smirked, his eyes gleaming with something close to pride. "Well done, love. Another one bites the dust."

You didn’t respond, just holstered your blade and looked out into the night. The stars were out, a stark reminder of the heaven you couldn’t reach, of the angel who had left without a word.

"You know, I’ve always admired your efficiency," Crowley continued, walking up beside you. "But there’s something hollow in it. Still pining for the good ol' days? For Dean? You haven’t been the same since the Moose and Not Moose fled away from the lifestyle."

The mention of Dean's name sent a wave of cold through you, but you kept your face neutral. Crowley was good at finding cracks in your armor, but you weren’t going to let him in. Not tonight.

"He made his choice," you said flatly. "I made mine."

"Yes, yes, he’s playing house while you do the dirty work. How noble of him," Crowley mocked, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "But you and I both know it’s eating you up inside. It’s killing you that he’s living a life that you so desperately crave with him."

You glanced at Crowley, your jaw tight. "What's your point?"

Crowley chuckled, his smile dark. "My point, darling, is that the past always catches up to us. Dean may think he can run from it, but he can’t. Sooner or later, he’ll come crawling back to this life—and to you. And when he does, what will you do? Welcome him with open arms? Or remind him of what he left behind?"

You stared at Crowley, his words sinking in deeper than you wanted to admit. You could pretend that Dean didn’t matter anymore, that you had moved on. But the truth was, no matter how many demons you killed or how many deals you made, there was still a part of you that longed for the life you had before everything went to hell. The part that still loved him. The piece of yur heart where Dean and Sam would wake you up in the mornings with the scents of breakfast wafting through the morning air.

But the man Dean had become—the one who chose Lisa, who walked away without a word—wasn’t the man you had fallen for. Maybe he never was.

"I don’t owe him anything," you said, though your voice sounded hollow even to you.

Crowley’s grin widened, a glimmer of satisfaction in his eyes. "That’s the spirit. But don’t be too quick to write him off. You never know when an old flame might reignite."

That night, alone in a dingy motel room, you sat on the edge of the bed, staring at your phone. You hadn’t tried calling Dean since the day he left, and you weren’t about to now. But your fingers hovered over Castiel’s number, the angel who had disappeared like smoke as Dean had done so long ago.

You had prayed to him, begged for his help, for some sign that you weren’t completely forsaken. But he, like Dean, was gone.

With a bitter sigh, you tossed the phone aside and laid back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. Maybe Crowley was right. Maybe the past never really stayed buried. But what did it matter? You had made your choice, too. You had become something else—something darker, harder.Something you hardly recognized when you’d glanced at your reflection.

The only thing that lingered was the ache. The unspoken words, the love that was never returned, and the haunting thought that in another life, maybe things could have been different.

But this was the life you had now, and there was no going back.

Outside, the world continued its chaotic dance of light and shadow, of good and evil. And you, standing somewhere in between, were left to hunt in the darkness. Alone.

The wind howled against the motel window, but you barely noticed as sleep finally claimed you, the weight of a broken heart your only companion, not noticing the door opening to see a figure standing in the threshold holding a quickly packed luggage bag.

[PART TWO]

--

tags!

EVERYTHING PERM: @nekoannie-chan @kjs-s @notyourtypicalrose @mistressofallthingsgeeky

SPN FOREVER PERM: @amelia-song-pond @salt-n-burn-em-all @kenzieam @flamencodiva-reblogs @spn-fanfic-reblog-writes

DEAN WINCHESTER: @fandom-princess-forevermore

[urrmomzfavorite]

PICK A CARD MESSAGE YOU NEED TO HEAR

Pile One: Cards: Three of Cups, The World, Ace of Pentacles, Page of Swords

Pile One, I’m really excited for you, my loves! Your friends are going to play a key role in your success when it comes to your career. You’ve been undergoing a period of deep transformation, shedding old layers, and purging what no longer serves you. There have been tough choices, some that went against your desires but were necessary for your growth. I feel a recognition of childhood trauma and the realization of how it has shaped your life so far. It’s a hard truth to swallow, but you’re emerging stronger. Your luck is turning, and that's the part I’m excited about—finally, we’re entering the rebirth phase! Soon, you’ll face a crossroads, which may feel like a test from the universe for some of you. The advice here is simple: choose YOU. What is best for you, always. Apply the hard lessons you’ve learned in recent years.

Great things are on the horizon for you and your loved ones, filled with celebrations and opportunities for growth. Stand your ground and set clear boundaries. You’re currently building a solid, honest foundation for your life. Your friends, as well as your community, are playing a huge part in your evolution. There are abundant opportunities ahead, and soon, you’ll find yourself in rooms you never even dreamed of.

Pile One, you’re a powerhouse, and I’m so proud of you! <3

(Lenormand Cards drawn: The Whip, The Coffin, The Child, The Mice, The Cross, The Rider, The Clover, The Crossroads, The Tower, The Dog, The House, The Bouquet)

message me for a personal reading <3

Pile Two: ( I honestly forgot to write the tarot cards that i drew, and now it's next day and i have no idea what they were, adhd brain sorry )

Pile Two, how does it feel to be right? You’re shining and glowing—no one can miss your light because you're radiating. I’m picking up on a "getting my revenge energy," but not in a malicious way. It’s more of a constructive, maybe a little mischievous, but not destructive vibe. I love how you express yourself—you would make an excellent politician. You’ve been through some challenges but bounced back quickly, showing resilience. I feel like you’ve realized you should always go where you’re celebrated, not where you're tolerated.

Now, I have something to say, and if it doesn’t resonate, it’s not for you. I feel like you've started a new relationship, and maybe the honeymoon phase is over. There’s been a lot of communication through messages, and it seems like you know it’s coming to an end. You're scared of what's next. My advice? Follow your childhood dreams. I feel like reconnecting with past hobbies or passions will bring you guidance. Your inner child is calling to you, and you’re finally answering the call. Is that why you’re glowing? BADDIEEEEEEEE. If you're going through this right now, just know that you are protected, and you're in good hands.

Your path is becoming clearer, and you're walking toward abundance and greater strength in your character. Let go of that feeling of being haunted, and trust that you are protected.

(Lenormand Cards drawn: The Whip, The Heart, The Letter, The Coffin, The Cross, The Crossroads, The Child, The Sun.) (Prism Oracle Deck: Abundance, Strength, Ghost, Caution, Protected)

message me for a personal reading <3

Pile Three: Cards: The Hanged One, The Magician, Knight of Swords, The Devil, Nine of Wands, Knight of Cups

Pile Three, you’re creating significant change around you. I’m getting this feeling that things are finally starting to fall into place. It’s like you’ve found the right key to unlock a door you’ve been trying to open for a while. It’s been a long and sometimes lonely journey, but you kept going, knowing success was inevitable. I want to commend you for your strategic approach, rational thinking, and cleverness. Some might call it luck, but the truth is, you’ve put in the work!

Soon, you will receive news or a message that will bring you much joy. You’ve poured so much energy and passion into this, and now you're reflecting on your growth. Pile Three, perhaps you’ve even gone through a physical transformation recently?

Your finances are set to grow significantly this year, and important people will want to work with you. Once again, I’m so proud of you, and I wish you all the best, my loves.

(Lenormand Cards drawn: The Scythe, The Tower, The Dog, The Fox, The Star, The Fish) (Prism Oracle Deck: Passion, Pain, Reflection, Growth)

message me for a personal reading <3

[amarynthian-chronicles]

May I have this dance?

Sebastian Solace x Reader

"Surely, you must be joking."

"Quite the contrary."

He fiddled with the old gramophone, making a few final adjustments in order to get it to function properly once more. All the while he was casually holding his cigarette with his third hand, elegantly tapping the ash away when necessary.

Sebastian had amassed an impressive collection of vinyl records, arranging them according to his tastes. He had done so in a similar manner with his books and research files. You loved watching him sort out his inventory.

It was so unusually domestic, the mingling scents of coffee and cigarette smoke, the presence of warm blankets and pillows on the sofa he had hauled from an unspecified location in the vast facility. Undoubtedly from various loungers that the scientists would once find comfort in before the breach in security.

You cleared your throat, trying to get his attention once more.

"Seb, be realistic. We cannot dance together. I don't even know how to"

"I am certain the youth refers to this as a "skill issue" nowadays. Painter had discovered a whole thesaurus of modern slang, heaven help us all."

"I am not even going to comment this. My point still stands. Besides, you do not even have legs."

"What I do have is creative solutions to complex problems. We crush obstacles, do we not? Ah, there we go. Good as new."

He placed the needle on a record.

Music. Soft jazz, soothing yet playful, unpredictable in its rhythm, improvising, moving from whimsical and exciting tunes to the more melancholic melodies. In many ways, it conveyed Sebastian's own soul perfectly.

He offered his clawed hand, grinning and waiting for you to inevitably accept his offer. Reluctantly, you accepted.

His tail began to tap in a certain rhythm against the floor, as if setting the tempo you should follow along with the music. Confused, you saw his other two arms approach you, all three serving as if they were makeshift dance partners.

Before you knew it, he was making you move and sway as if you were a combination of a puppet on a string and a music box ballerina. He made you twirl, glide, turn, almost hypnotic.

At a certain point, he snapped his fingers, and suddenly the room was completely dark, save for the lone light of his esca.

"See? You do not need to know where to go or what to do, you are only to follow as I say. Trust me and you will never have to worry about anything ever again."

"Seb, I am tired."

"I am sure we can get a few more pirouettes out of you, pet."

"Well, at least I am getting free cardio training here."

You took deep breaths as your puppet master played with you, demanding yet gentle, firm yet rewarding you with tenderness when it was due. As you were about to collapse, he caught you, pulling you into his lap.

Soft kisses were placed on your head, cheeks and lips.

His body began to sway, akin to the ocean waves, his arms cradling you.

Sebastian was truly like the ocean itself, simultaneously a cooling haven that embraced you in your feverish nightmares and a cold unyielding tomb that one could not escape from. A devil is merely a fallen angel, after all.

You whispered, closing your eyes.

"What will become of us, Seb? We are playing in this illusion, knowing that all of this is ludicrous."

"We live on stolen time. Our old lives are forfeit and we can only move onward. We take, we scavenge, we defy probability itself."

"What are we to each other?"

He combed his fingers through your hair.

"Fleeting hope. The same type that a ghost feels in a house with new tenants, desperately wishing to be seen and heard once more. Even for a final time."

Hot tears ran down your cheeks.

"Hope is such a cruel thing, Seb."

He kissed each tear away, savouring your sorrow.

"We lie in the Abyss. This location defies physics itself, it rebels against every possible known law of water mechanics. So shall we. Doomed to fail, given to death, we shall rise once more, wearing the Reaper's cloak as our own."

[reallyhatethiswebsite]

dark raphael, possessive/jealous devil, devils being devils i guess

Read on AO3

-

“Mm…Haarlep…”

It’s over the moment that single word leaves your mouth. The strange, moody tension that’s been strangling the room reaches its crescendo. Raphael’s fraying patience snaps. Bursts into flame just like the shattered glass of wine in his hand.

“Enough.”

He’s at the bed in the blink of an eye, snarling like the fiend he is. Sharp shining teeth bared. He grabs Haarlep by the hair, twists, and rips the incubus away. Haarlep lands in a sprawled heap on the ground, but they don’t look pained or even angry. Insidious amusement paints their borrowed features instead, because this is exactly what they’ve been waiting for. What they knew was going to happen from the start.

“Leave,” barks Raphael, addressing Haarlep but never taking his dark eyes off you, naked and trembling on his red velvet sheets. “Now.”

Haarlep blows you a kiss and vanishes. You’re alone with your master. The man who owns you, literally, body and soul. The man who put you in this bed in the first place. It’s easier to watch his tail angrily thrash to and fro than it is to look him in the face. His gaze burns, devours you. Claims what is already his. He seethes with arousal, and jealousy. You’re afraid, confused, but your mind is so foggy with Haarlep’s aphrodisiac that Raphael’s mercurial temper only makes him more desirable. Only makes the ache in your cunt stronger.

“My little pet,” he murmurs, deliberate emphasis on every word. He looms over you. Grabs your chin, squeezing just hard enough to hurt. Presses the tip of his thumb claw on the soft plush of your bottom lip, pushing until blood beads beneath it. You whimper; nuzzle into his touch in the same breath. “There is only one name that should be uttered from your lips. Mine.”

“I’m sorry,” you plead, knowing it’s not enough to mollify him. This isn’t your fault. It’s his. But you’ll be punished for it anyway, because a devil like him isn’t going to admit he was wrong. He isn’t going to confess that he’s letting his jealous, coveting nature get the better of him. No, instead he’s going to do what he always does: indulge.

It was his idea to let you “play” with Haarlep. You were reluctant, your animosity towards the incubus stagnant yet secure, but it was what Raphael seemed to want, now that he and his pet demon are on touching terms once more. You’re always so good for Raphael, your Master. So obedient. Of course you couldn’t say no, and as soon as Haarlep’s spittle got to work, you forgot all of your gripes with them anyway.

Raphael, however, did not.

Maybe he thought he’d enjoy watching his likeness take you apart in sexual ruin, like he had countless times before with countless different people. Maybe he thought he was “rewarding” you for your loyalty and dedication. Maybe he just didn’t consider that he’d feel so possessive over such a mundane, unremarkable trinket like your soul. He has thousands upon thousands, after all. There is nothing particularly special about yours. And yet, even as arousal coursed through his body and fattened his cock while he watched and felt the things Haarlep was doing to you, he’d clawed gouges into the armrest of the chaise where he’d been sitting – his private seat of power. Glared at your entwined bodies with mounting hate and envy.

It’s a beautiful and terrible reality, to be an object of Raphael’s affection. That’s the one and only thing you and Haarlep could ever agree on.

“Say it,” Raphael commands, slowly tightening his grip.

“Ah…say what?” It’s tough to think. You fight to stop yourself squirming, from rubbing your damp thighs together for some friction on your lonely, swollen clit.

“My name.” He’s holding you so tightly your bones creak. Instinctively you buck against him, gasping when your cunt throbs. Hungrily drools slick.

“Raphael!”

“Yes,” the devil hisses, eyes glittering in satisfaction at your small torment. He climbs onto the bed, crawls on top of you. Crushes you with his size and weight. The huge canopy of his wings block out the sight of all but him. His breath scalds your lips and cheeks, smells like smoke and wine. “You are mine. You belong to me. I own everything you are, and everything you ever will be. Never again will you think of another. Never will a name that isn’t mine tumble so sweetly from your lips. I am your eternity.”

He is your past, your present, your future. The Master of the House. His law, His word.

“Yes, Raphael!” You choke out. He’s squeezing your throat now. A trickle of blood leaks from your lip. His long forked tongue eagerly slurps it up, lingering on the wound he made. Tears well in your eyes but don’t fall, not yet. Tears of pain. Tears of frustration.

“There, now. That wasn’t so difficult, was it?” Raphael croons. You jolt when he wedges his thick thigh between yours. Your body moves without your input, grinding your wet cunt desperately against the surface offered to you. Black spots appear in the corners of your vision. He cuts off your airway to the point where you can barely breathe. You’ve always been afraid of suffocation, but with incubus spit muddling your senses, the endorphins and adrenaline just fan the raging flames of your desire. You rut harder against Raphael, mewling like a bitch. He sneers. “How pathetic.”

Yet, when he clicks his fingers and his clothes disappear, his cherry-red cock is so hard and heavy with blood it can barely stand up. Pearlescent globs of precum leak from its tip, catching on ridges, barbs and veins. His balls hang fat and flush and full, begging to be emptied. Sweat beads at his temples. His pupils expand to consume his fiery irises. As always, his biology gives him away, and such interesting biology it is. He runs hot, almost unbearably so, his rough and scaly skin near-scalding the sensitive flesh of your mons. You whine and whinge even as you press yourself closer, growing faint and weak from lack of oxygen. Instinct makes you flail and scratch at your Master. You would never try to hurt him otherwise. You adore him. You worship him.

He entertains himself for a moment watching you struggle. Watching you wonder if he intends to snuff the life out of your fragile mortal shell, unable to do anything but pine for a release of any kind. Fuck me, kill me, whatever you want. You can’t die, not in the traditional sense. Your soul is bound to Raphael, to the House of Hope. He’s murdered debtors before in fits of rage and they always end up roaming the halls again eventually. You don’t find out how today. He lets go of you, lets you suck in huge gulps of air. So magnanimous even in his disdain. Every heaving gasp is glorious, orgasmic. Your lungs burn. You burn. Raphael watches it all with black, sadistic pleasure. A crown of twisted horns upon his head for a king of sadism.

“Say it again,” he demands.

“Raphael,” you rasp. Obedient to a fault.

The devil growls. Thin lips peel back over his fangs. He manhandles you, grabbing your legs to part them further, push your knees up by your head to better expose your weeping cunt. He’s not gentle. His claws raze stinging welts down the backs of your thighs. He’s done toying. He wants to fuck. He wants to come. He wants.

He’s too big like this. He won’t fit. He doesn’t care.

One brutal, precise snap of his hips and he stuffs his infernal cock deep inside your cunt. You’re so wet he slides right in and just keeps going. The sound is obscene, but you can’t hear it. You’re screaming. The agony of his vicious prick, barbed and fat and intrusive, is also ecstasy. Union. Hurtling you into the abyss of orgasm you’ve teetered at the edge of for what feels like forever. You writhe and you cry and you sob and you beg, your cunt clenching hard, milking Raphael’s cock with every contraction. He endures it for barely a moment. This isn’t about you.

“Such a good pet,” he snarls, grunting with effort. His rhythm is cruel, fast, his thrusts unforgiving. Sloppy. He’s still upset. Will be until he’s satisfied. He cannot and will not be reasoned with until then. “Haarlep won’t touch you ever again. No one will. Only me. Isn’t that right?”

“Yuh-yes,” you eke out. Wracked by pain and pleasure in tandem. The kind that strikes you dumb, that brands itself into every iota of your being. Imprints a legacy upon you that you will spend the rest of the forever attempting to achieve again. You can’t tell where one ends and the other begins, and Raphael is not here to help you navigate the waters. He’s the one drowning you. He crowds you, fucks deeper, harder, yearning for your womb’s slick, soft squeeze. Rocks your body with each flex. His tight balls bump your backside. Every nudge of your clit when your pelvises meet sends a lance racing up your spine. The head of his cock kisses your cervix, demands entrance. He pants, open-mouthed, eyes half-lidded. Groans in delirious delight when he sees the tears finally streaming down your cheeks. Feasts on them. You’re so overstimulated even his slippery tongue feels like broken glass. Gods it hurts so good.

“Delicious,” purrs the devil. He’s unravelling. “Sweeter than all the wines of Baator. And it’s all for me.”

He pushes his face into the crook of your neck, and when he comes – a great, shuddering climax, his cock erupting into your womb with spurts of liquid heat, more and more and more – he bites down, making a perfect imprint of his teeth into your nubile, sweat-slicked flesh. You squeal, you can’t help it. He seems to like that, if the throb of his cock and its extra squirt or two of cum is anything to go by. Raphael stays there, breathing hard through his nose, muscles twitching as he rides out his orgasm. All you can do is lay still and grip the bed. You’ve never felt so full. Eventually, when he softens and pulls out, the two of you moan in unison for different reasons, copious amounts of his seed leaking from your bruised, aching hole to stain the sheets. The devil lays on his side, satiated (for now). You, however…

With the greatest highs come even greater lows. Haarlep’s venom is wearing off, taking with it the cushion of pleasure protecting you from the full force of Raphael’s harsh treatment. Bruising around your throat, scratches and bites and stretched ligaments… Of course, your cunt has it the worst. What starts as a dull, yawning ache becomes sharp, searing. Your fingers and toes curl with the effort not to howl. You couldn’t anyway, your voice too raw from screaming. What you make instead is a quiet keen of distress. Raphael, who was perhaps dozing, takes notice.

“Oh, you poor little thing,” he croons lazily, only after admiring his work. The state of you. There’s no real sympathy in his voice. No regret. You didn’t expect any. In a show of mercy, however, he does click his fingers and move the two of you into his rejuvenation pool. You’re soothed in an instant. Except for the bite. Raphael makes it very clear that’s there to stay.

[steddieas-shegoes]

envious for nothing

for @corrodedcoffinfest popup event prompt 'envy'

rated t | 666 words | cw: mention of recreational drug use | tags: season 2 era, eddie has a crush on steve, he doesn't do anything about it in this but it's there, introspective eddie

🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔

Eddie is the freak, has always been the freak, will always be the freak. Even when his band makes it big, he'll be marked as the weird one, the devil worshipper, the satanist.

He doesn't mind it most of the time. Sometimes he even embraces it, usually in public, mostly to throw off the bullies. But there's times when he looks at the jocks and the popular kids and he wonders what would happen if he just conformed. His life would be easier right?

Look at Steve Harrington, for example. Rich, popular guy, athletic, charming, good with the ladies. Probably gets a C or better average in classes. He'll probably go to an Ivy League school and work for his dad's company, marry Nancy Wheeler and pop out two kids, live in Hawkins forever, and then retire so he can spend time with his grandchildren. The perfect life.

Eddie wishes that could be enough for him. He wishes he could wake up in the morning and decide that being a good student and wearing nice clothes and shooting balls into laundry baskets was good enough. It would definitely make things easier on him, easier on Wayne.

He can shut off his nonconformist mentality and do what society says is good for him. He knows he can.

But he won't.

Because as much as he sees Steve and his buddies thriving, he also sees them struggling. They sneak out to meet him when their parents are in bed or out of town to buy whatever product will help them numb the feeling of not being good enough while giving the best they can. They drink until they don't remember how they failed that test that was their ticket to a passing grade in science class. They put others down because it's the only way they feel big.

Steve in particular is damn good at hiding how miserable he is to everyone. Everyone except Eddie.

He sees when Steve sits in his car alone after practice, dropping the fake smile and the alluring charm. He sees him wipe his hand over his face, through his hair, biting his lip until it's damn near bleeding.

At the Harington house parties, Steve sneaks off alone for a while, and Eddie's found him alone by the pool, sitting on the floor against his bed, even in the bathtub in a hidden bathroom upstairs.

He used to envy Harrington's house, how spacious it was, how he never had to wonder if the lights would turn on or the stove would work. But when he realized that Harrington was the only one throwing parties because his parents were never home, he saw that the house was depressing, empty, lonely. Steve was basically alone at 17 years old, probably long before that.

Sometimes he still thinks he could talk to Steve one of those times he catches him alone, probably even have a decent conversation. He might be funny, and Eddie's sure he'd fall victim to his charm. He's never been mean to Eddie or his friends directly.

Maybe they could even be friends once the whole high school thing is said and done and they don't have to keep pretending any of this matters.

He looks over at Steve now as he contemplates what a friendship with him might look like.

Maybe they'd smoke together, stare up at the stars and get introspective about their existence. Maybe Steve would convince him to try playing a sport and Eddie would give in because when Steve smiles in a certain way, it makes him lightheaded.

Maybe he doesn't have to be jealous of the life Steve lives if he's a part of it.

Jeff nudges his arm and he focuses back in on the conversation around him.

"You good, man?" He asks.

Eddie nods, looks down at his lunchbox.

"Frankie suggested we add some Maiden to the setlist next week."

"Sure, yeah, sounds good."

Maybe Steve would want to come hear him play next week.

[henrioo]

°•*⁀➷ BEACH DAY: CROCODILE

꒰ SYNOPSIS ꒱ : "Crocodile is a king, and kings don't fulfill anyone's wishes, unless that someone is you. The small, young and only son of one of the most feared pirates, a child who would never have his desires denied by his father.

꒰ WARNINGS ꒱ : Platonic! Crocodile, IT'S NOT A ROMANTIC STORY, Dad! Crocodile, Child! Reader, Male! Child! Reader, difficult childhood due your Dad's business, mentions a lonely childhood, mean children

꒰ WC ꒱ : 995

꒰ NOTES ꒱ : Trying to back in my schedule of posting and writing, I'm passing through some bad time with a lot of personal problems so my mind is kinda off for everything, but at least I gonna try to post what I already had (I always say that and never do) anyway enjoy :p

Firstly, your father would be extremely offended if his precious son asked to go to the beach. Dear, your father is the king of the desert and is literally made of sand, why on earth would you want to go to a beach full of stupid people with dirty sand?

Of course, just as Crocodile is unable to refuse your requests every time, what can he do? He spoiled his little boy a little… so soon he's planning a trip to the beach while putting up with you talking about it every day since you as a little child couldn't contain your excitement.

Initially he thought about going to a private beach, he could rent an entire island just to avoid other people, but when you looked at him with those huge puppy eyes saying “but then there won't be other children for me to play with?” He gave up and was at your feet again, bless you, your perfect son who had him wrapped around your finger.

He agreed to go to a public beach, but that doesn't change that he didn't want many people, so he planned to go to a less inhabited island and during a period when there would be fewer people, of course, he made sure the beach was very beautiful and big enough so you can have the most fun. He wasn't ruining her experience for his own selfish limits.

Father of sunscreen, Crocodile doesn't want to see you turning into a pepper, so he makes sure you're completely white from all the sunscreen. It's a little difficult to do this with just one hand, but you were always a patient child and helped your father without any problems, soon you were ready, with your crocodile themed children's swimwear, your colorful floaties and animation for a lifetime.

Crocodile wasn't very excited about swimwear either, so he just wore an open shirt and longer shorts. The problem was that everyone on the beach was staring at the seductive man, was it his fault for being so handsome? Of course, having Daz Bones next to him staring deathly at everyone ensured that no one bothered him, which was perfect for the pirate.

Swimming too deep is a big no, Crocodile can't swim and that means he can't rescue you if you start to sink, not only that, but most of his employees are also Devil Fruit users, which just makes it difficult for him to be sure you will be fine in the water. Now if he goes with you to the beach with a non-user, like Mihawk for example, he may be more comfortable with you going to the deeper parts, accompanied of course.

Crocodile is also very careful about keeping you well hydrated. He knows that children are more sensitive, so he is constantly calling you to drink water, juices or any other liquid. Luckily, you are very obedient and don't waste the chance to drink something delicious, so it was easy to keep it under control. Crocodile also didn't trust just any restaurant or food vendor, so he hired a chef to prepare everything you could want to eat on the beach, whether it was fried fish or ice cream, you had everything at your disposal, prepared by someone you trusted, so Crocodile knew you I wasn't taking any risks.

He gets a little apprehensive when you get close to other children, Crocodile is extremely protective of you. After all, you are his greatest treasure, he would kill and die to prevent you from getting hurt in any way, but when he sees you smiling while playing with the children, he feels his heart relax, in the end, you are still a child, and he doesn't want to in no way to deprive you of having a normal childhood. He already knows how terrible it must be for you to be the son of a pirate, to live on a ship without ever settling on an island for long, the lack of children for you to live with, you can't even go to school, and instead you study with him, his life is not normal like most children and any opportunity he has to give you some moments of a normal childhood he is definitely doing it. He just wants you to grow up happy, regardless of everything.

Now, that doesn't mean he won't be a protective father. All he has to do is see you building your beautiful sandcastle, which he may have helped to stand with his powers without you realizing, when another older child approaches. He is reluctant but doesn't want to act immediately, it's only when the child kicks his castle that he gets angry, then a wave of sand covers the child, knocking him to the ground, the boy has probably swallowed enough sand to never but forget the taste. As soon as the boy runs away crying to his parents, Crocodile rebuilds his entire sandcastle before you can even miss him or cry about it. Your bright smile along with a “thank you daddy” makes it all worth it.

Although he enjoyed the beach day, which basically consisted of him sitting around watching you being a normal kid and having fun and the occasional discussion about business with Daz, the best part for Crocodile is when it starts to get dark, and you're already too tired. He carries you in his arms, using his powers to clean all the sand from your body, you are completely exhausted and sleep like a rock, with the only detail of holding your father's shirt with your small hand.

Crocodile just puts pajamas on you, preferring that you take a shower when you're awake, then he puts you in his bed and covers you. You have a huge smile on your face and are probably having sweet dreams, he watches you for a few moments before leaving to finish some things and then going to sleep.

[seraphimaa]

Give me Raphael who, under the endless bravado and cockiness, is deeply repressed and virginal.

Idk, maybe in devil culture he’s discouraged from exploring his sexual desires because nobody wants the shame that would be brought by his spawn and who would lower themselves to sleep with a half mortal/half fiend? Even if they did, why would he ever trust that their intentions were not to cause harm and chaos to him? That’s the belief he lives by and we see so many outlets for it in game. The kinky punishments for debtors, the obsession and torture of Hope, and even the Glug Glug 9000 that was gifted to him, because daddy knows that Raphael is being driven around by his cock. Raphael, I think, appears deeply uncomfortable and ashamed of his sexual needs and I think Haarlep’s comment of “he only loves himself” is true, but not just due to narcissism. He could fuck anyone, or anything, with Haarlep but I think, instead, he needs familiarity and the only thing he can be vulnerable in front of is himself. And not only that, he doesn’t see it as a time to exercise crazy desires but it needs to be methodical and controlled. Safe. Comfortable. Predictable.

So imagine, along comes this little mortal and like so many times before, he starts the dance he has done so many times. They blush when he says the right things, they hang on his every word, and they look at him with such longing. They are exactly where he needs them, and expects them to be. They’d fallen for the act and he was in complete control.

Until, all at once, he realises he isn’t.

Give me Raphael who has never known anyone’s tender touch but his own, but who can’t stop thinking about how yours would feel late at night or while playing with Haarlep. It haunts him and he hates himself for it.

Give me Raphael who starts to dare to imagine, as much as it tortures him, that someone could actually be his. He had caged the mortal parts of himself up so tightly but the need for someone who was made of the same wretched stuff as him, that could really see him and love him never goes away. Someone to share his empire with who would never betray him or disappoint him and who would would devote themselves completely to all that he was. It was lonely always being in top, he would come to admit.

Give me Raphael who for the first time in his life, starts to show himself to you bit by bit to you and you never shy away, despite all the parts of him, from the gentle to the downright depraved and animalistic. He has no clue what to do with this acceptance. It was a foreign thing. Something not meant for him. Give me Raphael who hates you for all of this. He knows your game. You’re trying to get to him and he will lot give you control. He starts feeding that depraved voice inside of him. All the things he would do to you. How he’d punish you and make you regret feeding the mortal inside of him, through the bars. You saw the him inside. Your understanding of his weaknesses is what you’d use to destroy him. He’d protected it all so well but this would be his undoing. His solution of denial and hate had never failed him, so far, so he’d revert to what he knows

Then…

Give me Raphael who, when you crawl unexpectedly up and onto his lap one evening, kissing and sucking at his neck, can do nothing other than pant and shake at your touch, blushing like a virgin. You’d be so soft and gentle and his ears would be filled with ringing, his own breathing, and your cruel voice, telling him to ‘just let go’. ‘It’s okay’. This moment would be devastatingly painful and euphoric. You’d finally done it. You’d ripped away the last of his control and power. You had finally reduced him to nothing - pathetic and whimpering. You’d bested him and he should have been drowning in the humiliation and shame but holy fuck it felt so good. For you, he’d slowly learn to share his control, sometimes. You were so gentle with him. Your soft hand would teach him a different way to tame the beast inside.

Look I’m an exclusive bottom, but shy and inexperienced Raphael who is putty in my hands? Bark bark bark bark

[magnusunpopularopinions]

Anon says:

“I'm so glad this blog exists!! Now I can actually be honest about this show without getting my neck metaphorically snapped ajskdke

Short Version: I seriously think that the romance between John and Martin is the weakest aspect of the show and the crew fumbled the ball on making them believable.

Long Version: I understand that Martin was madly in love with John from the start but, even after the ship became canon, I genuinely don't understand what they see in each other. Se1 Jon treated Martin like shit and even if it's supposed to be interpreted as typical Tsundere behavior, I still don't get why Martin fell in love with the workplace bully. And likewise, John's complaints and dislike for Martin's clinginess and shoddy work ethic were justified as John seemed like a married-to-one's-work type of guy, it makes complete sense for Martin to drive him up a wall.

The reveal from Elias (118) that Martin has some "precious image" of John inside his head made a lot of sense. I was like, 'Oh! So he's only in love with the idea of John, not the person he actually is!? That's crazy!' And I was honestly happier under the impression that his feelings were unrequited and he was just too obsessed to take the hint. That would've made his adventure into Lonely Avatarhood way more interesting. To know that the man you love isn't the him you want to be with and the real him never loved you back anyway...

On that point too, John's desperation to keep Martin from turning fully in Se4 felt more like a begging plea to keep the last of his original assistants alive than anything truly romantic.

But nonetheless, John and Martin have only interacted a handful of times before the end of Se4, and only two of them were positive (039 being the main one I can remember). The rest of the show's runtime is them hearing about the other through hearsay, progressing the plot, and arguing over John's increasing monster-status, with an added dash of John getting audibly uncomfortable whenever romance came up in conversation. That's not enough to build an eventual love confession and romantic relationship on. No matter how hard the fandom shippers carry it with their art and fics, they shouldn't have to do the heavy lifting in the writers' stead.

Don't get me wrong though! 186 and Epiphany (winner of the Magnus Fluff contest) were FANTASTIC, and if we had seen more of THAT before they got together, I'd have no complaints!

It just wasn't apparent enough that John ever reciprocated in canon.”

—————————————————————————

Thanks for sharing! Let’s chat!

1) Sorry to anon, but the ask went HAYWIRE in my inbox and this was the only way I could get it out. My apologies! I haven’t changed anything!

2) Ok, ok… I have to speak my truth. I am also not the biggest fan of Jmart. I agree with anon- Jon is the kind of guy who likes to be and works best alone. Martin’s approach to Jon did seem quite obsessive and it just felt very… sudden that they should become a couple. I just never saw it, and when it did happen, it felt quite out of left field.

3) Now I want to play devil’s advocate to anon and myself because DISCUSSION! I love talking things out in a respectful and kind way, and that’s what we’re here to do!

-Alrighty so, if Jon is adverse to romance as anon says, why did Johnny and Alex decide to make Jmart cannon? Wouldn’t that go against all of Johnny’s hard work in building up believable characters?

-Secondly, doesn’t fan response make Jmart more believable? This to say- if fans picked it out so quickly, doesn’t that mean it was obvious from the start? (Or is this just how fan bases work? Michael and Gerry never met and yet we have DoorKeay!)

4) I wanted to reiterate something: Quite often my posts get circulated without the context of why I made this blog (and honestly I may start putting it at the bottom of every post I make from here on out.) I created this to be a safe space to share opinions without harsh feedback or rude response. You are very welcome to disagree with someone! In fact, I encourage this sort of back and forth! But if your words are not respectful and kind, then I cannot hear you out. We can disagree with each other and still be kind. If we cannot be kind to one another in such a small community as a fan base, then it becomes harder to hold on to hope of kindness outside of it.

I’ll step off my soap box now, and say that I’ve been meaning to say as much for a minute. It does not correlate as much to this ask/post as it does to some others that have received mixed responses. As expected, some people have taken my posts and responded in negative ways.

I can’t stop people from responding negatively. What I can do is make sure that, no matter who sees these, that they know where I stand as a Tumblr user, blog author, and person. I value kindness and respect above all else. If I ever veer from this, call me out.

5) I appreciate you guys a lot, and I have been so so grateful to have this community. Keep those asks coming!

Thanks for sharing and remember to keep your words kind!

-E

[munchmemes]

taylor swift lyrics, ttpd: the anthology edition, part one

the black dog

▸ i am someone who, until recent events, you shared your secrets with. ▸ your location, you forgot to turn it off. ▸ i just don't understand how you don't miss me. ▸ old habits die screaming. ▸ i move through the world with the heartbroken. ▸ i may never open up the way i did for you. ▸ do you hate me? was it hazing? ▸ now i want to sell my house and set fire to all my clothes and hire a priest to come and exorcise my demons even if i die screaming. ▸ i hope it's shitty.

imgonnagetyouback

▸ you did your research, you knew the price going in. ▸ i can tell when somebody still wants me. come clean. ▸ i'm gonna get you back. ▸ you'll find that you were never not mine. ▸ i can take the upper hand and touch your body, flip the script and leave you like a dumb house party. ▸ whether i'm gonna flip you off or pull you into a closet, i haven't decided yet. ▸ even if it's handcuffed, i'm leaving here with you. ▸ i hate you but i love you just the same. ▸ pick your poison. i'm poison either way.

the albatross

▸ cross your thoughtless heart. ▸ one bad seed kills the garden. ▸ they tried to warn you about me. ▸ devils that you know raise worse hell than a stranger. ▸ you're in terrible danger. ▸ i've been there too and none of it matters. ▸ i was sleeping soundly when they dragged me from my bed. ▸ the devil that you know looks now more like an angel. ▸ i'm the life you chose and all this terrible danger.

chloe or sam or sophia or marcus

▸ i loved you the way that you were. ▸ you needed me but you needed drugs more and i couldn't watch it happen. ▸ i changed into goddesses, villains and fools, changed plans and lovers and outfits and rules all to outrun my desertion of you. ▸ cooler in theory but not if you force it to be. ▸ will i always wonder?

how did it end?

▸ come one, come all. it's happening again. ▸ i'll tell no one except all of my friends. ▸ how did it end? ▸ lost the game of chance, what are the chances? ▸ guess who we ran into at the shops. ▸ didn't you hear they called it all off? ▸ my beloved ghost and me, sitting in a tree, d-y-i-n-g. ▸ i can't pretend like i understand.

so high school

▸ i feel so high school every time i look at you. ▸ tell me about the first time you saw me. ▸ your friends are around so be quiet. ▸ are you gonna marry, kiss or kill me? ▸ no one's ever had me, not like you. ▸ touch me while your bros play Grand Theft Auto. ▸ you knew what you wanted and you got me. ▸ i'm hearing voices, like a madman.

i hate it here

▸ quick, quick. tell me something awful. ▸ tell me all your secrets. ▸ all you'll ever be is my eternal consolation prize. ▸ i don't believe in good luck now that i know what's what. ▸ i'm there most of the year 'cause i hate it here. ▸ nostalgia is a mind's trick. ▸ i'm lonely but i'm good. ▸ i'm bitter but i swear i'm fine. ▸ this place made me feel worthless.

thank you aimee

▸ all that time you were throwing punches, i was building something. ▸ i can't forgive the way you made me feel but i can't forget the way you made me heal. ▸ it wasn't a fair fight or a clean kill. ▸ i built a legacy that you can't undo. ▸ there wouldn't be this, if there hadn't been you. ▸ maybe you've reframed it and in your mind you never beat my spirit black and blue. ▸ i don't think you've changed much.

[oftenderweapons]

Natural Connection | KNJ | Ch.5

A Small Town Swoons story

Pairing: Namjoon x reader (nicknamed Plum)

Wordcount: 3.6k

Genre: stragers to lovers, fluff, mild angst; ranger/trainer!Namjoon, Chef!reader

Rating: 18+

Synopsis: Plum wakes up needy, too bad Namjoon has already left her room. Their confrontation doesn't go where expected.

Trigger warnings: swearing, semi-public sex. Making out, grinding, dry humping, mutual masturbation, peaches and cream (i guess???). Musings on unprotected sex. Just a pinch of postcoital misunderstandings. Feral, possessive kissing and light biting.

A/N: Holy moly it's been two years???, but I guess it's better late than never, right? 😅💖 I decided to post this only now since I've already written the final 2 chapters. It's been tought, but I've decided it's time to return to this story and finally complete it (even though Ranger!Joon will be oh so dearly missed. I really didn't want to let go of him LOL, esp since it's time to drop this sunshine baby's full back story 😞🥺🥺🥺)

Here is my Masterlist, enjoy!

Navi: Part 1 – Part 2 — Part 3 – Part 4 - Part 5

When you saw Namjoon the next morning, you only remembered waking up to an empty bed. 

It wasn't a pleasant feeling and you weren't ready to acknowledge it like a mature, emotionally stable adult. 

“Good morning, Plum,” he murmured, standing very close beside you as he waited for his band of jocks to join you. 

“Morning,” you replied, a bit grumpy, but hiding it behind the pretense of courtness. 

“Did you sleep alright?” he asked, gentle and apprehensive. 

“Uh-huh.”

“Not very wordy, mh?” He nodded to himself. “Okay.” And just like that, conversation was over. 

You hated having him right beside you and wasting time in silence when all you wanted to do was hear him talk, but apparently you had to make do with what you had. 

The guys arrived all together maybe two minutes after he stopped talking to you. 

“Okay, let's stop by the equipment office so you can all get your climbing gear.” 

Cruelty didn't even begin to cover the ugly feeling coursing through your every limb. It was a sour kind of betrayal, both from your own body and from the person who has so perfectly won you over in nothing but four days of half smiles and hard work and competent guidance. 

It felt like your stomach was being played tennis with, slammed from one side to the other. 

Namjoon seemed entirely oblivious to the wretched state you were in, especially once he knelt in front of you and tugged at the straps around your thighs, slipping two fingers in between the harness and your skin to make sure there was enough space for your muscles to flex comfortably. “All set?” he asked, but his voice was dark and once his eyes shot up to your face he couldn't hide a flicker of lust lighting up his guts.

This angle, he thought, was just the same as when he'd lifted your leg and placed the back of your knee over his shoulder, his nose diving in the metallic, earthy scent of you. 

He was getting hard. He could tell. 

But you took a step back. “Yes.” Your reply was glacial, and it seemed as if you couldn't remove your harness fast enough. 

“I'll be right back,” you told him over your shoulder as you headed for the closest restroom in the sports hall. 

Namjoon just nodded and watched you go.

“What did you do to her?” Jackson asked him, an unwelcome afterthought, like his personal little devil perched on his shoulder. 

“I have no idea,” Namjoon replied, sincere and confused. 

“Did you tell her something rude? With your typical lone wolf harshness?” Jaebeom pitched in. 

“Who made her mad?” Asked Wooyoung, staring at your figure as you dashed across the hall. 

“Namjoon,” said Jackson, not even bothering with stating that maybe you weren't mad at all, and that Namjoon had done absolutely nothing to upset you. 

Yet, it was his interaction with you that had made you dash. Or so he thought. 

“Go check on the girl, you fool! Didn't mother teach you anything?” 

All the guys turned in Bangchan's direction and he seemed to quote, “Broke your heart I'll put it back together, I would wait forever and ever, and that's how it works, that's how you get the girl.” 

Jackson and Jaebeom just stared at him, as if they couldn't recognise their friend at all. 

“She literally said what every girl wants and we still act like girls are a mystery. Just listen to them, for goodness’ sake.” 

Namjoon nodded for a couple seconds, then started in the direction you went. 

He entered the corridor to the restroom, and hesitated by the shared washing room that gave access both to the men's toilets and the women's ones. He walked through the women's door. Three other doors in front of him. 

He really, wholeheartedly hoped there weren't other women around. 

“Plum, are you okay?” 

Silence followed. 

“I know you're here, Plum. I just need to know you're alright. I don't know what I said or did to upset you, but—” 

A door opened and for a second he thought he would die of mortification, then he registered your face. 

Relief, at first. 

Then something else. 

Your cheeks were aflame, and your chest too seemed to be on fire. 

Your lips were as red as he'd ever seen them, and it wasn't makeup because he hadn't noticed any bright colour on your face earlier. 

“Are you okay?” he asked. 

You nodded, still speechless. 

“You don't seem okay. What is it? Did I—?” 

“I am fine, Namjoon. Don't worry. I'm alright. Perfectly okay.”

“But you—” 

“Wonderfully fantastic, Namjoon.” Your tone was clipped 

You made your way to the door when he stepped in front of it. “Are you?”

You rolled your eyes. “I just told you so!” 

He pinched a lock of your hair in between his thumb and forefinger, straightened it, then released it. “You were grumpy this morning.”

“Just stressed about climbing.” 

“Nothing to do with me, so?” 

You rolled your eyes. Why would he be so perceptive? “Absolutely not.” 

“Am I frustrating you?” he asked, and stepped closer. 

“Yes, immensely, with all your questions and— The guys will be suspicious. Do they know you—” 

“That I came after you? Yes, they saw you dash and suggested I check in on you, which I wanted to do myself, but I wasn't sure it was a good idea, and their validation sort of helped. I know you're mad at me, I don't know why, though!” 

You narrowed your eyes at him. “You don't know why?!” 

You tried to sidestep him, but he was like a wall in front of you. “I don't.” 

“I woke up! Alone! I was…!” You gesticulated as if to complete your accusation, but the words wouldn't come out. 

“I see,” Namjoon replied, and he immediately noticed it was patronising, which made you seethe at him, pointing a finger against his chest.

“Do not use that tone with me, mister. You could at least have left a note.” 

He looked at you like you were nothing but a tiny little mouse he was about to thwart with his big bearish paws. “I'm sorry, Plum. You're right, I should have left a note.”

It was true, he'd dashed earlier that morning, but it was only because a deer had been found not far from the main road, his hind legs severely damaged, and he'd been called to help the local wildlife ranger to pick the animal up for rescue. “It was an emergency and I dashed out and—” 

“I woke up and you were gone.” Your eyes were wide, perfectly showing the disbelief you'd felt. “I woke up—” you said, and the pause that followed was like you were looking for words and only the wrong ones were coming up. “I woke up,” you repeated, “wanting you,” you added, cheeks aflame again, eyes aimed at him like guns, like saying ‘you know what I mean’, “And you weren't there,” you concluded. 

He stared at you for one or two blinks. “Wanting me?” He asked, and you shoved him back with both your hands, even more fed up. 

He, however, caught your wrists and brought them down to your sides, jutting his chin forward in a cocky expression. “You wanted me.” 

Your cheeks were boiling and your eyes couldn't bear his face any longer, so you turned them down, to the floor. “Yes.” 

“Plum,” he called, his hands trailing up your forearms, all the way to your shoulders. 

You shivered, but he proceeded still, headed for the sides of your neck, then your cheeks. 

“You want me still, sweets?” His thumbs forced your face up, but your eyes were glued to the floor. “Come on, Plum. Look at me, darling.” 

Reluctantly, you did. 

“Oh, sweets,” he spoke, ever so gently, so tender. “I was called on an emergency by the rangers of the local park. We were rescuing a deer.” 

Your pout was still glued to your face, and you weren't sure why. You're used to commandeering around ten men at a time, but this one, this specific man is not a force you can reckon with. 

“I wanted to stay, Plum. I truly did.” He kissed your temple when your initial frustration seemed to subside. “Let me make it up to you, sweets.” 

He touched the curve of your neck with his forefinger. “Was it when I asked about your day this morning?” He asked, his finger roaming across your collarbones. “When I asked how you slept?” His finger aimed even lower, just a few millimetres beneath the neckline of your top. He lowered his mouth to your ear, and when he spoke “Or was the sight of me kneeling in front of you, like when you came all over my mouth?”

Your insides clenched like you hadn't just given them the sort of satisfaction they were looking for.

“How can I make it up to you?” He asked, as if he needed to be in your good graces. “Anything you want, sweets.” While one hand drew the line of your side, coming to rest on your waist, the other rested on your jaw, the pad of his thumb tracing your lower lip, and his brow knit as if he were in physical pain from the longing. And goodness, if he knew how to pine…

You let your lips disclose for him and he inhaled sharply as the warmth of your exhale slithered past his fingertip. 

His right hand slid from your waist to the small of your back, pulling you closer. “Can I kiss you?”

You nodded. 

“Do you want me to?”

You nodded again, and he smiled, so softly it killed you. 

“Use your words, Plum.”

Your heartbeat skipped, your temper now entirely dissolved into warm honey. “Please, kiss me.”

He nodded, his smile so blindingly happy. And he lowered himself to you. 

His lips were soft against your own, so delicate and tentative. No tongue, just tiny pecks. 

He seemed ready to let go of you, but you had other thoughts in mind. He was already rising, and all you could do was grip the nape of his hair, and keep him still, kissing the line of his jaw now that his mouth was out of reach. 

He pulled back, fighting you a little as you kept delivering open mouthed kisses to his throat, by now reaching his collarbone. 

He tipped his head back to make eye contact with you and you stopped. 

“You wannit?” He said, the words coming out like a dark purr, smooth and vaguely threatening. 

You nodded, exasperated, then remembered his correction from before and whispered, “Will you fuck me, please?”

His grin was devilish and helpless at the same time. He shook his head and tried to angle himself away from you, running his hands through his hair. 

He had only as much restraint as a well-disciplined, civilised, mannered man, no more no less. 

Even a saint would break for you. 

You thought he was about to head for the door and leave when he stood before it, locked it shut and turned back to you, with two great strides before slamming his mouth to yours and grabbing your ass, picking you up like you were nothing compared to what he usually lifts in the gym. 

You found yourself with your back to the wall and him pressed up against your front, squeezing you in a way that could have been suffocating, except you loved the way he was so explicit in wanting you, and how easy you could read the restraint he was imposing on himself. 

You ground against his navel and he lowered you just a little, so that your core was square against his pelvis. 

“Woke up late,” you told him in between kisses and gasps. “I stretched over to your side—“

He tried to focus on your words but all he could do was stare at your mouth and register the bits he needed.

“I wanted you,” you said, and it came out like a cry. 

“I know,” he said, soft, understanding, soothing. 

“You weren’t there, and I was late, and I couldn’t—” You gasped as he dove for your throat, biting gently, making you arch into him, against him, your bodies flush against each other. “I was so mad. So frustrated.”

“Let it all out, sweets,” he said, reliable, steady, strong. “Lay it all on me.”

“I didn’t even have time to pull myself together ‘cause I was late,” you whine, and it came out so weak, so silly. 

“I can fix that for you, if you want me to. Just say the words.” He didn’t even need anything done to himself, he just wanted to please you. So many years of well-spent solitude and self-control had taught him everything about patience, everything about himself. It was not his own pleasure he’d learnt to desire, but the pleasure he could give to someone else. 

“Want you inside,” you mumbled, chasing his mouth, needing his lips sucking your own, tongues tangled together. Feeling him through his shorts, through your own shorts too was torture when he could be skin to skin against you, inside you, even.

“We’d need to stretch you first, it’s gonna take a bit, baby,” he reminded you, worried. 

You bit your lip and looked away. “What if I’d already handled that?”

His eyes went wide, then he bit your chin fondly with a curious enthusiasm. “Just cause I looked at you while kneeling?”

You felt your cheeks flush with fire. “You were— It was like when, the other day you—”

“Hold tight,” he said, then freed an arm by using his forearm to hold you up from beneath both your thighs. With his spare hand, he shoved his shorts down before stopping. “Condom. Damn!”

You squeezed your eyes shut, then let your forehead fall to his shoulder. “Please…”

“Plum, I—”

You weren’t on birth control, and you couldn’t risk going bare. You possibly never could. Not with your period being the most irregular thing ever, and knowing that you could be ovulating any day now. 

He helped you slide down his body. “You don’t happen to—”

“Left them in my bedside drawer.”

He let his forehead fall against the wall. 

“I cannot go bare—” you offered weakly.

He kissed your temple. “I wouldn’t ask you that. Not even if we were both one hundred percent sure.”

You bit your lip again, thinking, a frown forming on your forehead. And then— 

You took his hand in yours, dragged him to the washbasin, with its mirror right in front of you, and as you stood against the counter, his body pressed up behind you, you lowered your shorts, exposing your naked behind to him. 

“Plum, I don't think this is a good idea,” he said, biting his tongue. 

“You can just grind and I'll—” You brought your hand to your labia and traced a circle against your core that almost made you shiver. 

“This could get messy,” he said. 

You turned to look at him from over your shoulder and with a flirty smile you added, “I don’t remember it being a problem last time.”

He shook his head and grinned, wolfish and sexy. 

You couldn’t quite align the sight of him now with the person he had been out in public about thirty minutes ago; and it got worse when he grabbed the left side of your face with his right hand and brought his mouth to your cheek, biting it gently, his lips giving it a slight suction, as if he were half between nibbling and kissing. 

Your head was playing some hard rock soundtrack while it all happened, and it was feral, and you were almost disconnected from yourself but it was heavenly. 

It was all heavenly until they knocked at the door. 

You stared at each other in the mirror and he cursed under his breath. 

“Keep going,” you whispered. “Let them eat cake.”

It took maybe a millisecond to win him over, and it got even rougher, his hand was at your neck, grabbing at the base of your jaw, and he gave a little jerk as your eyes rolled shut. He called for your attention and as soon as you mustered the strength to open your eyes, he brought his other hand to the hill of your pelvis, his hand dwarfing you as he cupped you. “Eyes on me, Plum.”

And you kept your pupils glued to his as he stuck two of his beautifully long, perfectly thick fingers inside you. 

Your jaw went slack and he grinned, your hand reaching behind you to grab his ass, pushing him even closer up against you, clawing at his glute. 

This time it was his jaw that was left hanging. 

You were moving just right against each other, and the knocking stopped, and the last thing you knew was that he groaned, head thrown back before you felt it, hot and wet against you. His head snapped forward next, teeth sinking at the spot between your neck and shoulder as he tried to muffle a moan. 

Similarly, you pressed the ball of your hand to your lips as your left one assisted his own between your legs, his fingers inside you while your digits worked on the outside.

He murmured sweet nothings in your ear as he focused on you, kissing, sucking, nibbling at the sensitive skin near your neck and jaw and collarbone. “Come on, Plum,” he whispered. “Come on my fingers, sweet thing. I promise I’ll be so good to you.” His mouth was everywhere on you, and his hand — the one not inside you — was so sweet on your face and your hair. 

“I’ll give you anything tonight, I swear, Plum. Anything you want, you’ll have it. It’s all yours,” he said, back to his chivalrous, servicing self. “You’re so beautiful, so precious, so lovely.” His nose was deep in your hair, inhaling you, the osmanthus and elderflower of your shampoo. “I never thought I would find something like you. You’re unbelievable.”

And there was so much pining, so much longing in his dark and shimmering eyes, that when you looked at him again, you crumbled, your legs giving out, and you were lucky his arms had you locked in his embrace: his left one holding your torso and head upright while his hand cradled your face; his right arm instead ran across your waist and navel, his fingers still deep inside you, and it was only thanks to his forearm that you didn’t melt to the floor. His hips were pinning you to the hard edge of the counter, and you knew it would feel tender later, maybe bruise even, but in the haze of your ecstasy you almost found it sexy. 

“There you go, Plum,” he cooed at you, his smile all gentle and apprehensive. “That’s my good girl.”

Your head fell back on his shoulder and he kissed you on your lips, a polite little peck that made your stomach flutter. 

He was strong, he was dependable and steady, responsible, and it came so easy to you to give up control and just let him take over. 

You’d always been neurotic — is that the right word? — about sex. About letting yourself be vulnerable and weak and passive, but with him you just let yourself float to his current, and that was probably one of the best choices you’d ever made. 

Your eyes opened and when you finally put him on focus, he gave you this dreamy little smile, and just then you realised how rare it is to see his face like that, up close, but also so serene. So… happy?

“Hello?” you said and he shook his head slowly, as if amused. 

“Hello,” he answered. 

And you both giggled. “Are we in trouble?” You asked.

“Not sure. But I’m sure you’re nothing but trouble to me.” He gave you a squeeze as you were still in his arms and you were about to frown, not sure how to interpret his sentence. “Despicable, unresistable trouble.” His hand was still inside you and you clenched a little, ready to take more. He inhaled sharply. “Sweet, lovely trouble.” His thumb skimmed your hipbone fondly. 

You breathed out slowly, trying to steady yourself. “I guess we should go before we get into any more trouble than this.”

He froze for a second, then nodded and let go of you. “Sure. I’ll just clean you up.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Oh, I’ll take care of that.” 

“I don’t mind,” he said, but he was staring at the floor, and he was covering himself, and you could tell you’d made a mistake somewhere. 

“You sure you don’t mind?” you ask, and he stopped and looked at your reflection. 

You were dishevelled and half naked, but he stared at your face like that was the only thing that mattered. 

“Of course I don’t?” He said, but it came out almost as a question. He grabbed a towel and soaked it under the tap. “I don’t know the etiquette about this kind of situation,” he murmured while rubbing the towel gently against your glutes. “I’d like to think this would be the polite thing to do. Fix the mess I make.”

Is it just a matter of politeness? you asked yourself, eyes averted. “Sure,” you said and smiled, like it’s no big deal. 

Navi: Part 1 – Part 2 — Part 3 – Part 4 - Part 5

Taglist: @blushingatyou @ladykadyrova @sweetjellyfishland @starxclouds @ayanyamnyam (taglist is open!)

[lucifersresources]

taylor swift // the tortured poets department : the anthology rp meme part two. part one here.

edit/alter/change pronouns etc as you see fit!

the black dog.

i just don't understand how you don't miss me.

old habits die screaming.

i move through the world with the heartbroken.

my longings stay unspoken.

i may never open up the way i did for you.

do you hate me?

i pledged and i still mean it.

now i wanna sell my clothes and set fire to all my clothes.

i wanna hire a priest to come and exorcise my demons.

i wanna hire a priest to come and exorcise my demons, even if i die screaming.

imgonnagetyouback.

i can tell when somebody still wants me.

i'm gonna get you back.

i'm gonna curse you.

you were never not mine.

i can take the upper hand.

i might just love you till the end.

we're becoming something new.

even if it's handcuffed, i'm leaving here with you.

we broke all the pieces but still wanna play the game.

told my friends i hate you.

i love you just the same.

pick your poison, babe, i'm poison either way.

the albatross.

wild winds are death to the candle.

a rose by any other name is a scandal.

they tried to warn him about her.

cross your thoughtless heart.

only liquor anoints you.

she is here to destroy you.

one bad seed kills the garden.

i'd visit in your dreams.

they tried to warn you about me.

devils that you know raise worse hell than a stranger.

she's the death you chose.

you're in terrible danger.

the devil that you know looks more like an angel.

i'm the life you chose.

chloe or sam or sophia or marcus.

you just watched it happen.

i loved you the way that you were.

tear my world apart.

you said some things that i can't unabsorb.

you turned me into an idea of sorts.

you needed me.

you needed me, but you needed drugs more.

i couldn't watch it happen.

i crashed into you like so many wrecks do.

too impaired by my youth to know what to do.

can we watch our phantoms like watching wild horses?

it just didn't happen.

will i always wonder?

how did it end?

we hereby conduct this post-mortem.

our maladies were such we could not cure them.

a touch that was my birthright became foreign.

how did it end?

we were blind to unforeseen circumstances.

we learned the right steps to different dances.

the death rattle breathing silenced as the soul was leaving.

my beloved ghost and me, sitting in a tree.

i can't pretend like i understand.

so high school.

tell me about the first time you saw me.

look at you.

no one's ever had me, not like you.

you knew what you wanted.

i hate it here.

tell me something awful.

tell me all your secrets.

all you'll ever be is my eternal consolation prize.

now i seem to be scared to go outside.

i don't believe in good luck.

i hate it here.

i will go to secret gardens in my mind.

nostalgia is a mind's trick.

only the gentle survived.

i dreamed about it in the dark.

i felt like i might die.

i'm lonely.

i'm bitter, but i swear i'm fine.

this place made me feel worthless.

in my fantasies, i rise above it.

thanK you aIMee.

it was always the same searing pain.

all that time you were throwing punches, i was building something.

i can't forgive the way you made me feel.

but i can't forget the way you made me heal.

it wasn't a fair fight.

i built a legacy that you can't undo.

i built a legacy.

but when i count the scars, there's a moment of truth.

there wouldn't be this if there hadn't been you.

in your mind, you never beat my spirit black and blue.

i don't think you've changed much.

i look in people's windows.

i had died the tiniest death.

i'm afflicted by the not knowing.

what if your eyes looked up and met mine one more time?

the prophecy.

i got cursed like eve got bitten.

a greater woman wouldn't beg.

please, i've been on my knees, change the prophecy.

change the prophecy.

who do i have to speak to about if they can redo the prophecy?

i still dream of him.

even statues crumble if they're made to wait.

i'm so afraid i sealed my fate.

someone tell me it'll be okay.

cassandra.

burn the bitch.

do you believe me now?

i was in my tower, weaving nightmares.

what doesn't kill you makes you aware.

what happens if it becomes who you are?

they knew the whole time.

when the truth comes out, it's quiet.

peter.

forgive me.

is it something i did?

i thought it was just goodbye for now.

you said you were gonna grow up, then you were gonna come find me.

promises oceans-deep, but never to keep.

are you still a mind reader?

are you still a natural scene-stealer?

i've heard great things, *name*.

life was always easier on you than it was on me.

underneath the same moon, in different galaxies.

i won't confess that i waited.

i let the lamp burn.

as the men masqueraded, i hoped you'd return.

love's never lost when perspective is earned.

the shelf life of those fantasies has expired.

lost to the 'lost boys' chapter of your life.

forgive me, *name*, please know that i tried.

please know that i tried.

please know that i tried to hold on to the days when you were mine.

the bolter.

we must stop meeting like this.

as she was leaving, it felt like breathing.

she liked the way it tastes.

she just knows she must bolt.

there's escape in escaping.

robin.

you are bloodthirsty.

you have no room in your dreams for regrets.

you'll learn to bounce back.

the manuscript.

now and then she rereads the manuscript.

now and then she rereads the manuscript of the entire torrid affair.

i'm not a donor but i'd give you my heart if you needed it.

but soon, it was over.

everything had been above board.

the years passed like scenes of a show.

write what you know.

looking backwards might be the only way to move forward.

the tears fell in synchronicity with the score.

at last, she knew what the agony had been for.

the only thing that's left is the manuscript.

the only thing that's left is the manuscript, one last souvenir from my trip to your shores.

but the story isn't mine anymore.

[kamisatomay018]

My Saviour: Part 1

Warnings: mentions of emotionally abusive parents, depressive thoughts, angst with comfort, fluff

Kamisato Ayato x female reader

First Ayato series! But you can read each part individually too. This will also be pretty long and set the background of the story a little, so I hope you Enjoy!:)

“It’s over Ayaka, my life, my freedom, my happiness…it’s all going to end..”

You were a member of the Hiragi clan, And Chisato’s cousin. An only child to your parents, you had been locked away inside your house and this wretched island of Ritou for as long as you could remember. Your parents never treated you like their daughter, rather you were a burden for them and they made sure to tell you that every single day. You had just turned 23 yesterday, and your parents were adamant on getting you married off to some rich noble, regardless of your wishes.

“We want the burden of your existence off our chests” your father had said, looking at you as if you were the worst thing to ever happen to them, which was indeed true. Your parents hated you for after your birth, your mother faced complications which rendered her infertile. They blamed you for it, calling you a devil child who stole the chance of them ever having a male heir. So, they decided to get rid of you once and for all by marrying you off to some other noble.

People barely knew about your existence, for you had never had the opportunity of leaving Ritou. You were absolutely beautiful, each feature so delicate yet perfectly sculpted. You had been raised to be a proper lady, having perfect etiquette in all the matters such as speech, tea ceremony, playing a musical instrument and everything else a noble lady should know. You had met Ayaka 5 years ago when she had travelled to Ritou, and you had looked after her because she was young and could get lost. That’s how you two became best friends.

She told you everything about her life, about her clan and her brother. You knew the Yashiro Commissioner only by his name and by his reputation of being extremely reliable, kind and hardworking. However you got to know a lot more about him through Ayaka, who loved her brother more than anything and would talk about him endlessly for hours. You felt happy that she had a brother like him, for she was so precious and kind to everyone.

Just when you had thought your life couldn’t get any worse, your parents had declared that they’d be putting up notices of your availability in marriage by tomorrow, and that you’d have no choice but to marry. All the noble men you were aware of were at least 10 or more years older than you, who treated women like a trophy and an heir producing machine. You knew that you were about to leave one prison for another, and you had accepted your doomed fate. You were always lonely, often crying in silence while growing up. Seeing other children with loving parents hurt you, and you often hated the fact that you were even born. What was your fault in all this? What had you done to deserve such a fate? You did not know, and you would never get the answers to these questions.

Coming back to the present moment, Ayaka had come to meet you as usual, and you broke the news of your marriage to her. She was absolutely heartbroken for two reasons. The first being that she felt so sad about the treatment you had always been getting, how you were forced into things you didn’t want, how you were trapped and locked away like a slave. The second reason being that this news was going to break her brother’s heart too.

Even though you and Ayato had never formally met or even spoken to one another, he liked you a lot. Ayaka would talk endlessly about you to him, and your gentle demeanour and kindness drew him towards you. He was absolutely enchanted by your beauty when Ayaka had shown a picture of you to him, and without even realising, he had developed feelings for you over these years, and had been searching for opportunities to travel to Ritou somehow, but his busy schedule and the recent crisis in Inazuma regarding the vision hunt decree kept him very busy.

Ayaka hugged you, promising to help you out in her heart. “Please have courage, things will be okay..Who knows, you might actually leave this prison for a palace..”

You chuckled softly, grateful for her words yet not fully believing them “No Ayaka, all the noble men are much, much older than me, controlling and orthodox…I’ll be treated as nothing but a trophy wife..you know, my parents burnt all my paintings yesterday, saying that they were..awful and a hindrance to my potential marriage because my future husband would not approve of my love for the arts..”

Ayaka felt devastated at this, because she knew that painting was the only way you could find peace and express your true self. But now your parents had burnt those too, just the way they had burnt all hope and determination from your life. She hugged you softly again, staying with you some more before she had to return to the Kamisato Estate. There was a lot she had to tell her brother.

Ayaka hurried through the streets of inazuma city to reach the Kamisato Estate; and once she reached she entered her brother’s office without knocking, being a little out of breath.

“Ayaka? What’s wrong sister? Has something happened?” Spoke a deep gentle voice, lavender eyes looking up at his dear sister with a worried gaze. She meant the world to him, and he was always willing to do anything for her.

“Brother…Y/N’s parents are forcing her into an arranged marriage! By tomorrow a list of all the noble men interested in marrying her will reach the Hiragi estate, and they’ll pick a suitor for her..”

Then quill Ayato was once holding dropped, spilling ink onto the parchment but he couldn’t care less. The only girl he was interested in and was dying to meet was about to get married? That too to a stranger? Ayato knew the noblemen of inazuma too well, they were cunning and manipulative, too proud and full of themselves. None of them deserved an angel like you. He took a moment to compose himself, then simply smiled as he reached out to get a new parchment.

“Worry not Ayaka, I will make sure nothing of that sort happens.

“What are you planning to do brother?”

Ayato smiles at her, his eyes twinkling with determination and excitement. “I will go to Ritou and seek Hiragi Y/N’s hand in marriage.”

[gl4di0lus]

Special delivery for zira! (@aphrodict) + Little Note: Hihi, thank you for requesting me zira! hope it's okay!:3

OLEANDER - you know your baking is mediocre at best, but they still endeavor to taste your creation, despite how their eyes may water or how ugly their face may scrunch up. + niveous - snowy; resembling snow. + redamancy - the act of loving in return. + selcouth - strange, unusual, rare; unfamiliar; marvellous, wondrous. + THOMA

- 600 smth words notes: first fic :0 (fem reader cuz im bad at gn :<)

The soft snowfall had begun, paired with the gentle winds that accompanied falling leaves. 

Soft music played as a certain someone was busy baking: flour and sugar everywhere, broken eggs and spilled milk, and many, many failed attempts sitting on the counter. A ding was heard through the kitchen, and the girl perked up, running towards the oven, sliding on her gloves, and taking out a tray of burnt cookies. The amount of smoke billowing out was certainly something, but the cookies were set out to cool on a plate anyway. Who knows? Maybe it’ll taste better with icing. 

After the seventh failed attempt, the girl really had given up and settled with decorating the least burnt ones with red, white, and gold icing and placing them carefully into a bag. Tying a little ribbon on the outside, she then left to change into something appropriate for the weather.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - time skip - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --

You never really understood all the drama around Valentine's Day, the way so many of your friends would scramble to find gifts for their valentine, spend hours on end making homemade gift cards and tiny trinkets, meticulously planning dates and rendezvous, all for what? (Turns out you were just really lonely. And single.) 

Well, you get them now. Spending so much time, money, and effort to make something special for your crush? Ha, Fools. (Yeah, you’ve already accepted your fate.) Perhaps someone has shot an arrow into your heart and made you this way. 

And, speaking of the devil, his soft blonde hair glowing in the sunlight, emerald green eyes moving around till they find yours, his smile growing just a little bit wider once they do, and the sound of his voice calling out your name that makes your heart beat just a little faster.

As he reaches where you stand, a bag with a little red ribbon is shoved into his hands. 

The gift-giver is no longer facing him but turned to the side, a red and flushing mess, evident by the way her eyes avoid his at all costs. A soft chuckle escapes his lips, and he greets her a happy valentines, to which a soft “you too” can be heard. Facing him again, she stares. 

“Do…I have something in my teeth?” her gaze moves to the bag of cookies, silently telling him to try her gift, too shy to say it to him. He opens the bag, puts the small ribbon into his pocket, and takes out a cookie. The edges are burnt and the icing is sloppy, but anyone could tell that a lot of hard work was put into it, especially from the way her eyes seem to widen as he puts the cookie to his mouth. 

“How…are they?” she asks. “Good” Yet his eyebrows say differently, scrunched up as tight as they can go, but he tries to keep his smile. Her downcast gaze tells him she could tell they weren’t as good as he said they were. “They're good, I’m telling you!” to which he stuffs half the bag into his mouth and painfully chews then swallows them to prove his point. 

A smile breaks through her face, and she begins to laugh. “You don’t have to pretend, I know they’re bad, though I appreciate the gesture.” He freezes, having never seen her laugh so freely. The smile on his face grew bigger, too, and eating all those was definitely worth it to see her laugh like that. 

“You know what, it’s the thought that counts, and I appreciate you baking me cookies. How about for my gift, I’ll teach you how to bake other desserts. Chocolates, maybe?” Despite the playful tone, his eyes held a hopeful gleam. “Yeah, sure, maybe the next time I make you something it won’t be as bad.” 

Love seemed to make him want to do stupid things; he wants to hear your laugh, watch the precious smile on your face grow, and hold your hand in his. And honestly, he doesn’t seem to care what he has to do as long as that smile will remain. 

written for @stellaronhvnters valentines day event!

All works © gl4di0lus; please don’t modify, plagiarise/repost, translate, feed to ai, or claim as your own !! Thank you <3