#it tasted like sadness and chalk

[nexus-nebulae]

whyyyyyy am i waking up with heartburn the only snack i had before bed this time was a GRANOLA BAR

[pushing500]

Today I was watching Toddler Ro run around the colony doing his thing (mostly bugwatching) when he started to get tired. He's perfectly capable of going to bed by himself, but Henry came over to carry him to his crib anyway. I bet Ro thinks Henry is the coolest big brother ever. <3

Andy drew a very helpful label/sign on the ship landing platform in case the landing beacons weren't enough to let passing shuttles know where they were supposed to touch down.

We had guests from the Hare Clan, and one of them was our ex-colonist Boomer, who we let go in a Diplomatic Marriage event.

He is not married to Eggardus yet, but the Vikings of the Hare Clan did entomb him in a warcasket. Poor boy. I might not have liked him very much, but I think he deserved better than to be reduced to little more than a machine of war.

Then when the guests from the Hare Clan were departing, they left me this very thoughtful gift. I haven't decided if I'm going to keep it or not. Part of me thinks it would be a very weird thing to use, but another part of me thinks it would be really, really funny.

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[glossgojo]

the starks (cregan, robb, jon) headcanons

cregan who loves to be soft with you, loves to look in your eyes and hold your hand when you’re fucking. he’ll kiss every inch of your body, tell you what he loves about you, praise you to high heavens even when his pace is making your head hit the wall. he worships you night and day.

cregan who can be mean when he needs to be, usually you’re testing him on purpose or plainly asking for him to be rougher, he’ll always prioritize your safety and make sure you know to stop him if he goes too far

cregan who treats you like royalty after, he knows he’s bigger and stronger than most men, in many ways ;) , but he’ll be at your beck and call after leaving bruises on your skin from how hard he clutched your waist to drive you down onto him when you tried running from his girth, or gripped your thighs as he kept them open till your third orgasm was running down his chin

robb who is almost always fast and rough, he rarely has time to spare so when he does get some time with you alone in his tent he’s making it quick and dirty

robb has you coming undone on his fingers first of course, bending you over the planning table and making sure you’re well prepared and dripping before he takes you. he’s rough and passionate, pulling your hair, maneuvering you to his will and of course you love it

robb who always makes sure you come first, unless you’re under the table sucking him off between meetings that is. even then he’ll try and coax you to give him a taste and prop you up on his desk as he makes you gush onto his tongue while he sits like the king he is between your legs

robb who loves you endlessly and will always listen to your desires, even if he wants nothing more than to fuck you both dumb, he’ll treasure the times he can look into your eyes and get lost in the love there

jon who always wants you, it’s his constant state of being, any sign from you that you need him he’ll jump at and give back tenfold. (the biggest service dom in the world fight with the wall). in the beginning of your relationship he would get hard from a look alone and you had to adjust to his insatiable sex drive.

jon who could eat you out for hours and would much rather drink from you than touch a drop of water ever again. who loves when you tug at his hair when he’s down on you, he’s instantly groaned into and getting firm. when you’re in pain, when you’re sad, when you’re angry, when you’re just bored, jon will want to distract you. fucking you deep and slow, fast and rough whatever you need

jon who sometimes can’t control himself, especially when he’s nearly lost his life, and he’s fucking into you and breeding you again, and again, and again until his eyes look more black than anything else and you’re crying from overstimulation. he’s lost count of how many times he’s come nevertheless how many times you have and he can’t scratch the itch that he has to have you forever.

cregan, robb, and jon who live and die by “wear whatever you want i can fight”

cregan, robb, and jon are by nature protective and possessive but they never let bleed into controlling you, they only want you to be safe and no one dares to try anything when they’re over your shoulder, intimidating any and everyone possible

cregan, robb, and jon who can smell other people on you, chalk it up to the wolf ancestry, and immediately get irritated that anyone would dare get close to you, they need you to smell like them or just yourself. it’s something primal they don’t even realize until you’re coming back smelling like rancid fruit, nothing like your usual scent or their own. they’re on you in moments, holding you close and rubbing against you like a feral wolf

oh my god i was possessed by a horny demon writing this in one fell swoop

[twilightkitkat]

Thinking about how Logan is more open about his emotions than Wade despite what people perceive, and how Wade slowly learns to open up and confront his own emotions because of Logan.

Prompted by this amazing thread. Shoutout to @ramblingautisticman and @desperatelyneedcoffee for inspiring me to write this.

---

Most people expect Logan to be the more closed-off one. To hide his emotions behind a mask and keep them to himself.

But that's Wade's role.

Logan is honest about his emotions—when he's angry, he'll growl and thrash and let people know. When he's happy, he'll bark out a laugh and grin and let his eyes wrinkle at the edges. When he's sad, he'll cry and scream and drown himself in alcohol.

He may not be phased by smaller things, but he's honest about his feelings. (Something Wade could never do.)

Wade, on the other hand, isn't. He exaggerates trivial feelings, obvious situational ones—he'll cower in fear at a "scary enemy or pretend to be pissed over a minor inconvenience. He makes his outward, shallow emotions so loud that it turns everyone's attention away from what he's feeling inside.

(Because if people know how he feels inside, they'll see him and hate him. It's easier to be hated when you can chalk it up to "understandable" reasons, to being annoying or loud or inappropriate. It isn't easy when they hate you. When they look at you, bare and vulnerable and open, and hate who you are at your core.)

Wade has spent his entire life hiding his emotions. Even from himself.

He shoves them so deep down that they become a slightly bitter taste in the back of his throat until it all becomes too much and he violently throws them up.

Wade is like a glass bottle: he can steadily hold all his emotions inside, pretending to be OK, until the glass shatters and explodes and the shards dig everywhere and he's left to pick up the pieces.

But Logan isn't like that. He lets himself feel. He lets others see how he feels.

Even from the first moment they met, he let Wade know how he felt. How he fucked everything up. How he wasn't the hero he was looking for. How he was battling with so much grief and rage that he'd reached a point of complete apathy.

(It made Wade envious. To be able to just say it and move on.)

Logan was the first person Wade met to be so blatantly honest. To wear his emotions on his sleeve and act on them and still be strong and keep fighting.

(...Could he still be considered strong, if he did the same?)

When Wade was vulnerable, it felt like he was choking—the words tumbling out without his permission and leaving a mess behind. Even with the people he loved, he couldn't ever bring himself to fully trust them even if he knew he should. Even if he wanted to. (Even if he tried to.)

(He still remembers sitting across the kitchen table from Vanessa. She held his hand tightly, as if she was afraid he would slip away. Was slipping away. She was urging him to let her in. To tell her why he hadn't been himself. To open up so they could share the burden.

But he just... couldn't. How do you tell someone who loves you, who you turned back time to save that nothing was helping? That no matter how hard he tried to focus on Vanessa and just live a "normal" life that it all felt wrong? That he felt an itch under his skin to do more more more and nothing was "more" enough.

That he felt like he was just wearing his skin. Like it wasn't his, not since Francis twisted him into a monster he didn't want to become. That he still remembered her look of surprise and the reluctant way she cradled his face when she first saw it.

It wasn't her fault. He knew that. It was an adjustment.

...But why didn't anyone understand? The gnawing loneliness, the self-hatred, the feeling of everything being nothing and too much all at once.

He hated himself.)

But Logan let his emotions course through his veins like second nature. Wade watched as emotions twisted across his face like it was a form of art.

And, for the first time, he felt comfortable opening up. He let the words spill from his mouth, except instead of feeling the trail of acid burning through his throat it felt like relief. He finally met someone who understood him, who had gone through the same suffering. He saw his loneliness reflected in Logan's eyes and finally, finally, felt he could reach out without dragging someone down. (They were both already at rock bottom, anyway. The only place to go from here was up.)

And so he told Logan about Vanessa. About the family he wanted to save. About how, yes, he vaguely cared about the world, but none of this was to save the world. (It was for just nine people.)

And Logan... didn't judge him. He saw understanding—a tired, but real kind—reflected in his eyes. He didn't make fun of him for his selfish motivations. Didn't snarl in disgust that he could never be a hero because of them. (He saw him and didn't recoil.)

And there, sitting across the table from each other in that shitty building they'd escaped to, Wade finally felt seen. Understood. (Ironic, isn't it? To have to go to the void to open up about the void inside of himself. Wade would write a poem about it if he knew how to.)

He felt that same kinship as they continued their journey. Even through the insults, the exasperation, the annoyance, Wade could tell none of it was serious. Because Logan never really told him to fuck off. To stop.

If Logan didn't like him being touchy, he'd shove him off. (He didn't.) If Logan didn't like him asking questions and rambling about himself, he'd actually try to get him to shut up instead of just grumbling. (He didn't.) If Logan really didn't want to be here, he'd leave. (He didn't.)

Logan's visceral type of emotional honesty allowed Wade to let himself be vulnerable. Because if Logan hated him, he wouldn't be here. If Logan didn't want to hear it, he wouldn't tilt his head and listen and ask questions.

(It made Wade feel safe to express himself for the first time since he'd been strapped to that shitty operation table and torn apart until all that remained was a body not quite his own.)

Things were going good.

They were.

(Wade desperately hoped they'd stay that way.)

But then Logan pulled over the car, real and raw fury in his eyes. He yelled at Wade, his voice trembling with the intensity of it.

He picked apart everything Wade had told him. Threw it back in his face.

And oh. Oh.

Logan was honest. He was true to himself and his emotions.

And so, Wade thought quietly as the tired continued, he really meant it. It felt worse than when Logan had stabbed him.

(It felt like he was back on that operating table, small and weak and pathetic but still trying to keep smiling. To keep cracking jokes and being annoyed. Because, if he didn't, he'd break. If he didn't keep the shards of his personality clutched so tightly to his chest that they dug into his hands, nothing would be left of him.)

Logan dissected him. Using everything Wade told him. (Using the ammunition he'd provided.)

(Was Logan really looking at him with understanding, back then? Or was it disgust? The images blurred together in Wade's mind, distorting his memory.)

Told him how he was worthless. That the Avengers and X-men were right to reject him. (Ouch.) That it was his fault he couldn't salvage his relationship with Vanessa. (He'd tried. He'd tried so hard.)

That Logan saw him for what he was: a pathetic, attention-seeking parasite who clung to others instead of facing his own problems.

It really was God's greatest joke that he couldn't die.

Wade spiraled.

(Was he wrong this whole time? Did Logan really, truly hate him? He had to, if he's looking at Wade like that.)

If even Logan (the only person who could begin to understand his suffering) couldn't accept him, who could?

He felt like the ground was crumbling underneath him and he was falling and floating at the same time. He felt like he was an observer, looking in on the outside, even as his emotions crashed over him like a tsunami.

But he couldn't let himself break down. Wouldn't let himself be vulnerable. Not here. Not now.

So, he slid the mask back on and responded in the only way he knew how to.

"I'm going to fight you now."

(Even when they'd collapsed, bloody and weak and exhausted, the words kept ringing in his head. They'd let out their physical frustrations, maybe, but the words still clung to him like a blanket. There was still a sinking feeling in his gut. Dread twisting his stomach at the thought of being open.)

(The feeling never really went away.)

---

They started living together, in the aftermath.

Wade had called after Logan as he was about to leave and awkwardly asked him if he'd like to come home with him. Just long enough to find a place to stay, or even just for dinner.

(Logan couldn't refuse. Not with the sense of wrongness filling him as the distance between him and Wade grew with each step. When he heard Wade's voice, it felt like hope. It felt like coming home.)

One night turned into two, turned into a week, turned into a month until Logan had his own side of the dresser and nobody bothered to ask if he was leaving. (Thinking of leaving made Logan vaguely nauseous, now. It felt like ripping away the foundation of the home he'd painstakingly started to build here.)

Logan still had baggage. Still had days where all he wanted to do was grab a beer and stare blankly at the wall, thinking of all he'd done and all he'd lost.

But it was easier. Wade would walk into the living room, plop down next to him, and begin talking his ear off about whatever happened that day. He'd sling an arm around his shoulder, flip on the TV, and keep talking.

(Logan would lean against him, slightly. Would focus on Wade until his warmth and touch and voice drowned out his thoughts.)

(It worked better than alcohol ever had.)

Logan tried to let Wade know that he cared about him. That he appreciated it. Appreciated him.

(That Wade's presence was what made everything worth it. Made him finally feel like he was able to tread water without drowning.)

He'd cook Wade meals. (And pay attention to what he liked and disliked, making sure to cook things he knew Wade would comfortably eat.) He'd lean into his touch. Listen when he talked. Answer any questions he asked.

And so, when Logan came out from the shower one night and saw Wade curled up on the couch, staring blankly at the black screen of the TV, he approached him.

Wade had a vacant, empty look in his eyes. The kind that Logan recognized, but hadn't seen on him before.

It made him worried. He'd never seen Wade like this. (It was unsettling. To see Wade, who was so vibrant and expressive, look so bleak.)

"Is something bothering you, bub?" he asked, settling down next to Wade on the couch.

Wade finally seemed to register his presence, eyes flicking over to where he sat.

"Oh, peanut! I was wondering when you'd get out of the shower. Was it nice and steamy? I'd love to join you next time," Wade wriggled his eyebrows (or what was left of them) suggestively.

It was like a switch had flipped. Wade went from blank, like a doll with its strings cut, to animated and excited in a second. His eyes were sparkling again and he grinned at Logan like nothing was wrong.

(It was... uncomfortable. Did Wade not trust him? Was Wade hiding something from him?)

Logan wanted to question him, but Wade kept chattering and he could never really get a word in edgewise. (A part of him wondered if it was intentional.)

Maybe he was seeing things. Maybe Wade was just having a bad day. Logan tried to rationalize it, even as a pit formed in his stomach. A feeling of deep wrongness.

Except it kept happening.

Wade would get that same, desolate look in his eyes (always when he was alone, away from everyone) and Logan would walk in on him. Logan would try to see if something was wrong, but Wade would interject before he could.

(Logan knew his expression was concerned. Knew Wade could tell he was worried, that he cared about him. So why didn't Wade let him in?)

(Wade always listened, patiently, when Logan talked about his problems. It was one of the few times he'd go quiet, only occasionally asking questions and making extra commentary. He'd look at him with a grim understanding. Not pity, not sympathy, but empathy. Free of judgment. It was the first time Logan felt like his emotions were actually being received by someone, cradled and held and protected so that they didn't burn him out.)

Until, finally, one day, Logan snapped.

"What the fuck is up with you?" he snarled, and that didn't come out the way he intended but he was so frustrated by Wade refusing to just let him in.

"What do you mean, Wolvie? I'm—"

"Shut up. You're not fine. I've been alive for two hundred fucking years, I know by now when someone's lying, Wade," Logan interrupted before he could continue his usual antics.

"Look, I'm just having a bad day, alright? You know how it is. I'll be up and running after I take a nap, don't worry about little old me!" Wade's voice took on a faux-cheerful tone.

"This isn't just a bad day, bub. It's been happening a lot. You get this look in your eye, like you're not really there, and just stare at the wall." Logan stared at Wade with concern evident on his face. "It's worrying."

Wade snorts. "You don't have to worry about me of all people."

Logan furrowed his eyebrows. "What do you mean? 'You of all people?' Of course, I'd be worried about you, dumbass. I care about you and if you're hurting, I want to know why."

And Logan was so painfully honest. It was so clear in his eyes, in his expression, in his body language that he cared about Wade. Deeply.

It made Wade snap.

"Just shut up! Stop fucking talking. I don't want to hear it." Wade wished he had hair right now so he could fucking tear it out. He'd take any kind of physical pain just to distract himself from Logan, worried and open and trying to pry him open.

"Wade, what are you—you know you can tell him about anything, right?" Logan tried to regulate his breathing, to keep his tone calm. To not show the panic he was feeling. (It was obvious anyway.)

"What, so you can throw that back at me, too?"

What? What was Wade—

"So you can tell me I'm a fucking joke? That every superhero team was right to turn me down? That I couldn't even manage to keep a relationship with a stripper?"

Oh. Oh fuck. That was—

"That I should just fucking kill myself, but of course, it's God's best joke that I can't die, so now my pathetic existence is on you?"

He couldn't possibly think Logan meant that, right? Couldn't have been thinking about that this whole time—

"I don't want to burden your royal highness with my stupid problems," Wade practically snarled, "so stay the fuck out of it."

He slammed the door and left.

And Logan was left alone.

Logan wanted to run after him, to grab him and tell him that he didn't mean it. He was pissed off and spewing whatever came to his mind in the moment to hurt Wade. (And he'd achieved that goal, hadn't he?) He felt betrayed and responded in the only way he knew—by lashing out. (But that wasn't an excuse, not really. Not to take everything Wade had trusted him with and twist it. To betray his trust in such a personal, visceral way.)

(Logan knew that Wade meant well. That he was just scrambling to save his world and thought of the only solution that would get Logan to help. That when he made an "educated wish" he'd still try to see it out, had still asked the TVA after everything. But he was so fucking angry and so fucking tired and just wanted any excuse to lay down and die.)

Did Logan really have the right to, though?

Wade had listened to him. Helped him. Even after what Logan had said and done, he'd still cared. (And wasn't that a sobering thought. That this whole time, Wade thought that was Logan's opinion of him. That he still cared about Logan despite having his voice ringing in his ears, tormenting him.)

(It made Logan angry to think that Wade was used to it. To setting aside how people treated him and not expecting anything in return for his kindness. To loving and giving without receiving. It made him want to murder the people who set the bar so low. It made him want to rip out his own tongue.)

(It made him realize, yet again, that Wade was a better man than he'd ever be.)

...And Logan had fucked up. Immensely.

Had given Wade hope that he could finally open up to someone who came from a similar background and understood his suffering. All to tear it away in one glorious, horrible, mistake.

Logan had no right to fix things. To ask for forgiveness. (From Wade. From anyone.)

But what was the alternative? Letting Wade think he hated him? Leaving?

Logan would rather die than go back to living completely isolated from the world. He couldn't go back to waking up every day and drowning his sorrows with alcohol. Letting memories flash behind his eyes as he replayed everything he fucked up and obsessed over what he could've done differently.

(Because, without Wade, he would still be there. At rock bottom. Without a place to belong or any reason to get up in the morning. A samurai without a master. A drifter without purpose. A stray without a home.)

The thought of leaving behind the only thing he cared about anymore made him panic. He felt nauseous, like he wanted to throw up yesterday's dinner and his own heart alongside it.

He knew it was selfish and pathetic, but he couldn't let go. Couldn't handle losing the only thing that made living worth it, after everything.

(Of course, when he finally found someone who was like him, who felt the same loneliness, who couldn't die, he had to go and fuck up. What is Logan good for if not ruining anything good in his life?)

Logan knew he was selfish. And pathetic. And stupid.

(He felt his mouth move around the words. Spit venom at Wade, who was completely, utterly silent. He heard them, vaguely, but they didn't register. He was running on pure rage and adrenaline.)

(Why did he take until now to notice?)

He knew that.

But he didn't think it was this bad. That he'd end up ruining the only good thing to come out of his miserable existence.

He thought, at least, that even if he'd fucked up everything else, he could be good with Wade. Could be good for Wade. It was the one thing he prided himself on.

And now look at him.

Instead of Wade, it's Logan who was God's best joke.

Fuck, he wanted a beer.

[actuallysaiyan]

The Beast Inside Of Me(Incubus!Nanami Kento x Fem!Reader)

warnings: smut, unprotected sex, AU, Incubus, demons, slight dub-con, oral(fem receiving), slight yandere vibes, creampie finish, mentions of passing out/fainting, vaginal fingering word count: 3.2k pairings: Incubus!Nanami Kento x Fem!Reader summary: Kento has been searching for his mate for a long time, and he finds out it's you. Incubi don't usually mate with humans, so he's desperate to make it work. a/n: not sure if it's the demon who possessed me or the Earthbound OST that made me write this, but here it is and I realllyyy hope you all enjoy!! Some dividers by @/benkeibear

taglist: @beneathstarryskies @an-ever-angry-bi @namikyento

@seireiteihellbutterfly @adharadotcom @heyitsd1yaa

@darkstarlight82 @melisuh123. @galactict3a

@erebus-et-eigengrau @aomi04 @isabelzoldyck

@cinnamon-girl-writes @felixmr @typicalemo. @entirelysein-e

Want to be a part of the taglist? Join here!(Please have age indicator in bio!)

You’ve seen that handsome face before. In your dreams, where you thought you were just imagining things. But now that you’re awake and looking at the man(or so you think)sitting on the edge of the bed, you aren’t sure if this is just another dream or figment of your imagination. When he looks over at you, he looks so incredibly sad. The sorrow in his features is so apparent, you feel the sadness deep inside you.

“Are you…” your own voice scares you. “Are you real?”

He looks at you once more. His hazel eyes almost seem to glow in the darkness of your room. Then you see his wings expanding, creating an interesting shadowlike surrounding. Your eyes widen a little as he climbs out the window and you watch him fly away. You’re stunned by the sight.

Lying back on your bed, you try to calm your breathing. That was a dream, right? It had to have been. There aren’t handsome creatures with wings that just casually hang out in your room. That doesn’t happen. It really just doesn’t happen at all.

You pull the covers up to your chin, curling it in your fist. You think you’ll never be able to go to sleep again, but soon your eyes flutter shut and your mind is filled with the most pleasant dreams. 

When you wake up, you chalk it all up to some silly dream and being extremely tired. You go about your day like nothing happened. Meanwhile, the creature you saw in your bedroom is suffering in silence. He has finally found his human mate, which is you.

He’s suffering because he knows he could never court you properly. He’s suffering because he knows you would reject him if he were to approach you and explain the situation. He invades your dreams as much as possible because it’s the only way he’s able to see you and feel you and touch you and taste you…

Being alive for so long has its perks, but it also becomes so lonely. All the other incubi and succubi from his pack have already found their respective mates. And it’s a little rare for his kind to mate with a human. Kento wonders if he’s just destined to be alone forever. He feels that deep sorrow inside of himself. The same one that he felt when he realized it would take him a long time to find his mate.

Night after night, he’s been chasing after you like some lovesick puppy. He finds it so pathetic too. You could easily find someone better for yourself, and you don’t even know that someone like him is so deeply in love with you. Kento contents himself with just sitting on your bed and watching you sleep. Seeing him that night was a mistake and you shouldn’t have woken up.

The next night that he shows up, it’s only in your dreams.

The room feels hot and stuffy, but it’s pleasant. There’s a slight smell of a candle that’s been burning, and something like a cinnamon and nutmeg scent. It’s enticing and intoxicating. Your skin feels drenched with sweat. You try to open your eyes, but you’re feeling so sleepy and so tired.

“P-please,” you pant out.

Calloused hands caress you, removing the sheet that covers your naked body. You whine as you feel those same hands spreading your thighs. Soft touches from fingertips follow, creeping up your thighs. Then you let out a pathetic whimper when you feel something parting your soaked folds with expertise.

“Fuck,” you whine when you feel a wet, hot tongue pressing against your clit.

The feelings are intense. Your orgasm grows so fast, it hits you hard. You’re panting and moaning loudly, trying to grind against this tongue. But as soon as it appeared, faster did it disappear. 

You wake up the following morning wondering if that was truly real and with sheets that are still damp from your dreams. This time, you have a harder time chalking it up to a wet dream.

For Kento, he wishes he could keep the taste of you on his tongue forever. He’s never gone that far with you, but he’s very happy he did. He eagerly jerks himself off to the flavor on his tongue and the memory of your scent until it fades away. It makes him angry that he can’t have you committed to his memory forever.

So he gets a little more daring the next time he visits you. This time, it isn’t just a dream for you. It’s a real encounter with the demon himself.

He casts a deep slumber spell on you, but you are still reacting to everything he does. He takes his time to memorize you; tasting you heavily on his tongue as you gush. Orgasm after orgasm is pulled from you as Kento works your body with expertise. He knows what you like. He could probably bring you to orgasm with the smallest little nudge against your clit by now.

His eyes are glowing as he feasts on you. His cock is rock hard as he begins to rut against the bed. Nothing could be better than this. The room feels so hot and warm, but it only seems to add to your arousal and his. The smell of burning candle, cinnamon and nutmeg fill your senses, even while you sleep deeply.

Kento’s eyes roll back as he gets to taste your essence once more. If he could, he’d gladly drown in the flavor of you for all eternity. It’s not enough to keep visiting you in the dark of your bedroom at night. He needs you always. Now and forever.

So the night finally comes where he decides to see how you’ll react if he introduces himself to you. He sits on your bed, waiting for you to rouse from your sleep. When you do, you gasp softly at the creature at the foot of your bed. He leans closer, and you get a better look at him.

Sharp, angular features for such a beautiful man. Or…is he even really a man? He can’t be a man if he looks this good and has a tail and wings. He smiles softly, his cheeks lightly pink. 

“Have I frightened you?” He inquires, leaning in just a little closer.

Your senses are filled with the scent of burning candle, cinnamon and nutmeg. Your thoughts are filled with sensual memories. Something about this makes a throbbing sensation begin between your thighs.

“N-no.” You finally manage to answer. “Who are you?”

He smiles sweetly before reaching out to cup your chin. You get to look into his beautiful eyes. They shine so brilliantly for you. You don’t feel frightened at all, only confused and curious.

“My name is Kento,” his voice is so reassuring and soothing. “I am not here to hurt you.”

Something about that name makes your heart beat faster. You lean in closer to hear more of what he has to say. But instead of talking, he decides to kiss you. It’s so deep and passionate. He holds you close, his wings wrapping around you to keep you securely in his grasp.

“You are my beloved,” he finally whispers against your lips. “I have searched for you for a long time.”

Your eyes widen at the creature holding you. How could someone so beautiful have searched for you for so long? You feel so plain in comparison.

Almost as if he has read your thoughts, “You aren’t plain. You are the most beautiful thing on this earth and within every plane of existence.”

Your heart skips a beat at his words. Your cheeks are redder than a tomato. You aren’t sure how anyone could think this about you. Kento cradles your face in his hands, his thumbs caressing your cheeks. He looks at you like you are the stars in the sky, the colors of a rainbow, a beautiful masterpiece hung on the walls of an art museum.

“How precious you are to me,” he says softly. “I could not say it in words.”

You allow him to lay you down on the bed. His lips are attached to your neck; sucking, nipping, licking and biting. To get that sweet taste of you, he is quite desperate. Everything about you is both beautiful and extremely enticing. He could never get enough of you, even if he made love to you a million and one times.

His hands are calloused as he caresses your body. He slips your pajamas off of you slowly, tantalizingly so. His eyes keep gazing up at you, making sure you know just how much you are loved. He couldn’t be able to continue if he didn’t know for sure that you are indeed enjoying yourself.

The moment his fingers slip against your folds again, you feel that same arousal from the other night. It begins to truly dawn on you exactly what is going on. He’s been the one to pleasure you all these nights, even the ones where you were dreaming.

You pull him in for another kiss; this time it’s sloppy because of how hungry you are for him. He grunts against your lips, his fingers still working at your greedy pussy. But he loves that you’re getting into it. You’re desperate and needy for him, which makes him so happy and very aroused.

“It’s been you this entire time,” you whisper.

He nods. “Yes, does this please you?”

You can’t even begin to think of the right words to answer that question. So instead you reach down and feel his cock through the skin-tight underwear he’s wearing. He moans just for you and you love the sound. You love it so much, you wish to hear it forevermore.

Kento kisses you with a ravenous hunger now. The hunger that resides so deep inside of him as an Incubus is beginning to come to the surface. He needs to try and rein it in if he doesn’t want to accidentally hurt you.

Tenderness returns to him as he takes a few deep breaths. He cannot show you the ugly side of him. It’s an animal, a beast that resides inside of him. It’s ugly and carnal and full of sin. And though he’s sure you’d still be able to find it in your angelic heart to forgive him if you were to see that side of him, he would hate himself forever if he were to harm you in any way.

“Please,” he moans softly. “Allow me to taste you once more.”

He spreads your thighs again, grunting when he sees just how soaked you are. You smell divine. Musky and yet so sweet. It makes his cock throb and painfully twitch. For an Incubus, he swears he’s falling into your trap instead of the other way around.

Your little heart pounds in your chest like the fluttering of the wings of a hummingbird. You reach down to push his hair out of his face, and this earns you another grunt from the man between your legs. You aren’t sure if he’s fully a man or he’s a beast, but either way you have come to accept him as your lover.

His tongue feels like warm silk against your folds. He licks a stripe from your hole to your clit, rendering you incapable of speech for a moment. You shudder from head to toe, and a small little gasp falls from your lips. You’re panting already and all he’s done is lick once.

“Oh, you’re so needy for me.” Kento purrs before he dives back into lapping at you.

Your toes curl as his mouth works you up to an exquisite orgasm. Your breath hitches in your throat as his mouth and tongue and lips stimulate you in all the ways only someone from your wildest dreams would be able to. As your body shudders and shakes, Kento grunts against your wet cunt. He’s hungry and growing hungrier by the moment. If he doesn’t pull away soon, you’ll see the beast inside of him.

Thankfully you tug on his hair to pull him away to avoid too much overstimulation. He looks up at you; his once hazel eyes have grown very dark. There’s a look on his gorgeous face that you can’t quite decipher. But soon, it begins to dissipate and you swear his pupils are in the shape of hearts just for you.

“My pretty lover,” he coos softly. “Please…” he swallows hard. “Please allow me the chance to make love to you. The privilege.”

Your eyes widen. How could he even be begging you? He was so beautiful, so handsome, so breathtaking. It should be the other way around. You should be the one begging for a chance to even look at him.

“I understand if you don’t want to tonight, or really if you didn’t want to engage at all, I just want to—”

He’s interrupted by you pulling him in for another kiss. It’s mostly to shut up his insecurities right now. But part of you wants to taste yourself on his tongue and his lips. He grunts as he adjusts himself in his underwear. Your hands reach down to begin tugging them off of his perfectly sculpted body.

“It would be my privilege to make love with you.”

Those words make his head swirl with arousal and lust. His eyes are dark once more. He nips at your bottom lip, making you squeak in pleasure. Kento parts your thighs even more so that he can place himself between them. His underwear is all but ripped off his body.

“Eager for me?” he teases you before kissing you. “I’m just as eager, if not more.”

You sigh as you feel his hands guiding your thighs to wrap around him. The heft of his cock rests on your mound. Kento uses his fingers to open you up, making you drip all over the sheets even more. Slowly pumping them in and out and in and out…

“Just like that,” he coaxes. “Just for me. Open up, my beautiful flower.”

His words go straight to your head, but also straight to your throbbing clit. You’re more than aroused and ready for him, but the fact that he wants to take such care of you, it turns you on even more. It takes no time for him to slip his fingers out and replace them with the tip of his cock.

“I’ll be gentle,” he whispers in your ear as he pushes more of himself into you. “And I’ll go slow.”

Slow is his pace. Gentle is his touch. You shudder as you feel him leisurely pushing into you. His eyes snap up and down from your face to your little hole trying to suck him in. His tail begins whipping in excitement. He knew it would feel good to finally be inside of you, but he’s having to take deep breaths once again to not lose control.

“My beloved,” he moans against your ear. “You feel heavenly.”

Your cunt spasms around him as he eventually bottoms out. His balls are plush against you and you finally get a sense of how pent up he is by how heavy his testicles feel. Your hands come around to rub his back as Kento starts up at a very loving and tender pace.

“Pretty, beautiful, exquisite…” he spouts off as he begins rocking his hips. “So warm, so wet.”

When you look into his eyes again, you see tears. He’s relieved but also so overwhelmed. He’s trying his best to hang on to the shred of sanity he has left. It’s so difficult when you keep squeezing and clenching around him. It’s all too much for him to keep going without losing a little control.

“Forgive me, beloved.”

You barely have time to comprehend what he means when he pushes your knees up to your chest. His hips begin to snap as he fucks into you harder, faster and deeper. Oh he is just so deep inside of you, you swear you can feel him in your throat. It’s all too much for you to even begin to understand. You cling to him as his cock rams into you over and over.

“Kento!” You gasp, trying to hold on.

He grunts and growls like a ferocious beast. Inside, he’s cursing himself for allowing himself to show you even just a fragment of who he truly is. His tail comes up to curl around one of your breasts. His head dips down to take the nipple into his mouth. He sucks on it harshly as he fucks deeper and harder into you.

“Need to fuck you,” he grunts. “Need to breed,”

His words are a bit of a shock, but you’ve been piecing parts of this together in your head this entire time. He, of course, is not a regular man. And the way he’s pumping into you now, you know it’s because something else is possessing him to do so.

Your legs begin to shake as his cock keeps pushing against that sweet spot deep inside of you. Stars speckle in your vision as your peak becomes imminent. It’s such a deep feeling inside of you. You can barely contain your moans, whimpers and sweet breathy whines. Kento tries to stop himself, but the more you squeeze around him, the less control he has.

“Going to breed you,” he growls. “You are mine.”

Every word is punctuated with a deep and harsh thrust. His balls rest plush against your ass every time he’s completely deep inside you. His eyes are growing darker. And the tail wrapped around your breast has now begun to tug a little bit on your nipple.

“May I…Can I…” He growls loudly. “Need to breed!”

It’s no longer a question. It’s a demand. A command for you. You are so willing to allow him this privilege. He never even told you the outcome of this coupling. You just wanted to soothe him and his needs, all while falling in love with this man; no, he’s no man. He’s a beast. A beast that you wish to tame.

“Cum,” you struggle to tell him. “Inside.”

He barely hears you, but something inside his brain clicks. It’s all that he needs to be sure that he is more than allowed to do this. Before either of you can register what’s happening, his tail wrapped around your breast squeezed harder. His wings come around the both of you, shielding you from the rest of the world.

With a loud roar, he begins emptying himself into your tight little hole. Shots of thick, potent cum spill deep inside of you. Kento reaches down to begin rubbing your clit in slow, tantalizing circles. A soft gasp escapes you as your orgasm hits you hard. Your legs are shaking and your heart is pounding harder than it ever has before.

You feel your vision beginning to tunnel…

You awaken several hours later. Your hole is sore and abused, dripping thick cum. You’re disoriented as you try to understand what is happening. Kento isn’t here, but his scent lingers on everything. You look at the nightstand and notice a bottle of water and a piece of paper folded in half. You take a drink of the water and then you unfold the paper. It’s a note from your otherworldly lover.

See you this evening. Same time as last night. Be prepared, my love. I have lots more to show you.

Xoxo,

Kento.

[angelofsmalldeaath]

unknown / nth — a.h.b.

cw: this is more author's note but this is sort of an au to what i usually write, an au in which reader and andrew have been divorced for a year but still live in the same town

“is this seat taken?” a familiar voice takes me out of my spiral of thoughts. i look up at him—a face i haven’t seen in close to a year. he smiles, toying a little with the ring on his little finger. 

a small curl escapes his bun. he looks like he’s just stepped out—grey jumper, black jeans, black converse. i stare for longer than i should, a little taken aback. 

“you still come here,” the surprise in my voice is clear, palpable. 

he smiles, eyes crinkling in a way that reminds me of all the times i’d traced my fingers over it. “whenever i’m back home, yes.”

home. yes. it saddens me a little that it’s a luxury for him most days. 

“you never answered my question, darling,” he lingers near my table, hip bumping into the chair opposite mine. 

“you still call me that,” i smile like it’s a secret between us. 

he returns my smile, and when i don’t object to it, settles into the chair opposite mine. 

“what are you having?”

“mocha with enough caramel in it to make you shudder.” i give my drink another swirl, subtly inhaling the scent of caramel wafting from it. “too sweet for you.”

he simply stares at the drink first, then at me, playing with the ring on his finger again. 

“what?”

he shrugs, turning around to signal for a barista. “‘s nice being known is all.”

i take a sip of my coffee, the sweetness melting over my tongue while he places his order. (coffee. black.) 

“why are you here?” the question is a little blunt. inwardly, i wince. perhaps i shouldn’t come across so hostile outright. 

“saw you from that window, thought i’d come in and say hi.”

i scrutinise him a little. he’s older now, a little tired with crow’s feet around his eyes. the lines on his face look deeper than the last time i’d seen him. his eyes look a little flat too, although i decide to chalk that up to post-tour exhaustion. 

“that’s all?”

he nods, “that’s all.”

in spite of myself, there’s a small pang in my chest. 

“you’ve been…well?” i cringe a little the moment it leaves my mouth. the question sounds so formal and and painfully awkward—like talking to a skittish animal. 

“sure,” he nods, turning to thank the barista who arrives with his coffee just then. steam wafts from the dark liquid. i already know just how bitter it will taste compared to my sweet drink. and still i smile when he takes a sip and sighs. “i’ve travelled the world and—”

“—haven’t found coffee as good as this,” i finish his sentence, smiling, cheesing at his dramatics. “you always say that. it’s just black coffee. not the hardest thing in the world to make.”

he brightens a little, shaking his head at me in mock disapproval. the silence that settles over us after is much kinder, friendlier. he sips on his drink and i take the time to watch him—a strand or two of grey in his hair now, his beard’s a bit longer too. it suits him better like this, so much so that i almost reach out and touch, thinking better of it at the last moment. 

something else catches my eye then, the ring on his little finger, closer to me now. glinting in the sunlight. 

“you’re wearing my ring,” i point out. he looks down at his hand and then back up at me. the smile on his face turns crooked. 

“you left it on my dining table, so that makes it mine now. besides,” he points a finger at me, eyes softening a little, “you’re wearing my jumper.”

i gasp, look down at myself. “i hadn’t…i’m so…”

“‘s alright,” he takes another sip of his coffee, “i bought it so you could steal it anyway.”

a strange sort of warmth settles into my bones. when i pick up my mug again, it’s empty, its contents already consumed. his smile turns a little sad. 

“do you need to go?” the plea in his voice squeezes like a fist around my heart. but my phone blinks at me, a messenger of father time. 

“i do, i…” i swallow, gathering my bag in my arms, “it was lovely seeing you, angel.”

his eyes twinkle, much like mine had before. “you still call me that too…”

“old habits,” i shrug. then i stand, lifting my hand up into an awkward wave. 

but i linger. unable to simply just… go. 

“will you at least text me when you get home safely?” he asks, voice a little hoarse then, and fidgets with his ring again, something i’ve now realised is an anxious habit. i stare at his hands a little longer than necessary—beautiful, familiar hands, hands that held mine and traced shapes on my body and showed me stars. 

home, i think to myself, some cold, expensive flat in the complete opposite side of town. white and beige, full of flat, steely surfaces and perfectly made beds. just one toothbrush in the bathroom, though, just one towel. 

“i’ll text you when i get back home,” i nod. it’s not illegal for exes to care about each other’s basic safety, is it? 

“and will you?” he raises an eyebrow, “go home?”

so this is what it has come to… thinly veiled questions that mean something else entirely, and none of us can bring ourselves to say what we really want to. 

“i will,” i smile at him one last time, finally taking a step towards the door, “i’ll find my way home eventually. someday.”

[coconut-dreamz]

you're losing me

'how long can we be a sad song' || tom blyth x reader

part two

a/n: i felt angsty and i love this song so i wanted to write something based off of it

you say, "i don't understand, " and i say, "i know you don't" we thought a cure would come through in time, now i fear it won't

the fights felt as if they were never ending lately. it hadn't always been this way, but that felt like a lifetime ago. the problems had started when tom began filming for tbosas but they had ceased when filming for it wrapped. but your relationship wasn't the same as it was before. now it was time for promotions and the fights had started up once again.

"i don't understand! why do we keep having to have this fight over and over again!" tom shouted. you scoff in disbelief at his outburst. he didn't know why you felt so insecure and jealous? it wasn't like you had told him at least a dozen times before.

"you know what, just go on your tour alone. i don't want to ruin it with our fighting." you resign, taking your already packed suitcase back into the apartment, away from the door. "you should go, the cab's waiting." you tell him quietly, unable to look up from the ground.

he just sighs, "alright, i'll see you in a few weeks." staring at you, waiting for you to look up at him. " have a safe flight," you look up at him, but refuse to meet his eyes. he just thanks you and heads out the door.

remember lookin' at this room, we loved it 'cause of the light now, I just sit in the dark and wonder if it's time do I throw out everything we built or keep it?

you sat in the dark room of your shared apartment with tom. you had picked it because of the view of the city lights, but now it just felt cold and desolate, like nobody lived here. in all honesty, it hadn't been lived in for awhile. with tom gone for movie promotions, you hadn't been able to be here alone, opting to stay with a friend instead.

you don't know where to go from here. should you salvage what remained of your relationship with tom? or should you scrap everything and start new?

the latter choice had been seeming more and more appealing as of late. you hadn't heard from tom in days. at first you chalked it up to him being busy and the time difference, but you saw he posted a new croissant review and realized he was ignoring you. where had it all gone wrong?

i'm getting tired even for a phoenix always risin' from the ashes mendin' all her gashes you might just have dealt the final blow

you had made the mistake of watching one of tom's latest interviews with his costar rachel. you watched it because you'd missed him, but now that you'd watched it, you wished you just stayed missing him. you didn't miss the way they looked at each other. it'd been so long since you'd looked at each other like that. your eyes were always filled with rage or tears whenever you saw him lately.

you were just so tired of it all. you contemplated texting him and breaking things off. it'd be a whole lot easier that way. maybe the weight on your chest would be lifted. but a part of you didn't want to let go of him. he'd been your everything once.

stop, you're losin' me i can't find a pulse my heart won't start anymore for you 'cause you're losin' me

"how are you baby?" tom asks, his voice cutting through the silence, breaking you out of your reverie. he managed to find some time to call you while on his press tour. "huh? oh, i'm fine. how are you? how's press tour going?" you ask absentmindedly, hearing you ask about tour sparked a light in tom's eyes. he started rambling about the antics he and his cast mates had been up to.

you smiled fondly hearing him talk, until he mentioned rachel. she'd been a sore spot in your relationship lately. the mere mention of her name left a sour taste in your mouth. the grin on your face immediately swept off.

"it's getting late, i think i'm gonna go to bed. i hope the rest of your tour goes well," you fake a smile, trying to hurry to end the facetime call. "oh, i guess it is late over there. i love you, sleep well.” he bids you a goodnight. "love you," you reply and end the call. you bury yourself in your blankets, tired of the emotional turmoil that was caused by your relationship lately.

every mornin', i glared at you with storms in my eyes how can you say that you love someone you can't tell is dyin'? i sent you signals and bit my nails down to the quick my face was gray, but you wouldn't admit that we were sick

you'd lost the glow your skin once had. it'd became increasingly noticeable to those around you. your makeup artist had to try harder to make it less noticeable on red carpets and photo shoots. but it was all in vain, everyone noticed how you'd looked sickly lately, everyone but tom.

or, if he did, he didn't mention anything about it. "you look great." he complimented as you two climbed into the car that was to take you to the premiere of his film. it had taken your makeup artist a lot longer than usual to do your makeup, having to cover up the blemishes and gray tone of your skin from the lack of care you'd given yourself lately. you’d been opting to lay around in bed, moping.

"thanks," you mutter as the car begins to move. you picked at your nails, something you'd picked up lately to help deal with your nerves. you no longer could have any type of nails, you'd bit them down to nubs lately. but tom didn't seem to have noticed. he didn't seem to notice anything about you lately.

and the air is thick with loss and indecision i know my pain is such an imposition now, you're runnin' down the hallway and you know what they all say you don't know what you got until it's gone

"stop! where are you going?" shit. you stop dead in your tracks, tom was home early for once. you'd thought he wouldn't back for another day or two. "did you hear me?" he makes his way in front of you. you try avoiding his gaze, but it was difficult when his icy blue eyes stared into your soul.

you tried to formulate the words to tell him it was over. "i'm leaving." you finally managed to say. his concerned eyes turn frantic at your words. "what?" he whispers out, grabbing your hand. "you're leaving? why?" you take a breath, you tried leaving when he was gone because you couldn't face him. "things haven't been the same lately. i think we need a break. i'm going to stay with a friend. i'll come back for the rest of my things later. i think it's best if we don't talk for awhile." you manage out, finally meeting his eyes.

what a mistake. his previously concerned eyes were now filled with sadness. you tried moving past him to your car. he grabs your hand one more time, "can you at least tell me what's wrong?" you sigh hearing this, "i think you know why, tom." is all you answer, dragging your suitcase behind you.

how long could we be a sad song 'til we were too far gone to bring back to life? i gave you all my best me's, my endless empathy and all i did was bleed as i tried to be the bravest soldier fighting in only your army frontlines , don't you ignore me

it'd been a few weeks since you'd moved out of your shared apartment with tom. you felt relieved when you had finally walked out of the apartment. it had been feeling less like a home and more like a prison lately. you felt stuck in time in there. everyone around you was moving forward their lives, your friends, family and especially tom, but there you were. stuck waiting around for tom to give you the time of day.

you'd spend too long waiting around for your relationship to go back to how it once was. you'd given that relationship your all but got the bare minimum back in return. you should've called time of death on it months ago, but a big part of you wasn't ready to let go. you had spent your best years with him after all.

and i wouldn't marry me either a pathological people pleaser who only wanted you to see her

you and tom used to talk about the future all the time. laying in bed, staring up at the ceiling and giggling about your thoughts on what the future had in store. you told him about your dream wedding and he told you about how he wanted a cozy home with a big yard for your future children.

but that seemed so far in the past. you suppose he changed his mind. who'd want to marry a person who'd give every piece of themselves for someone who won't even bat an eye at them? you'd given him your all in the last year of your relationship, but had gotten nothing in return. all in an attempt to bring back what you both once had.

and i'm fadin', thinkin' "do something, babe, say something" "lose something, babe, risk something" "choose something, babe, i got nothing to believe unless you're choosin' me"

you laid in the makeshift bed of your friend’s studio apartment waiting for tom to reach out. you were aware of what you had told him, but you wanted to see if he truly did care about your relationship.

it hurt to see him happy on set of billy the kid. you followed his castmates and it hurt to see the snippets of him on their stories. he looked so happy and carefree. the exact opposite of how you were feeling and probably looked.

you hoped he was just respecting your wishes of having no contact for a few weeks, but the small voice in the back of your mind was screaming that he didn't care. that he was happier without you, that he was better off now that you were gone.

you're losin' me stop, you're losin' me stop, you're losin' me i can't find a pulse my heart won't start anymore

a constant buzzing woke you up from your deep sleep. you blindly search for your phone. when you find it, the clock shows that it's exactly 12 in the morning. you hit answer without looking at the contact. "hello?" you answer, your voice raspy from lack of use.

"love? it's me, tom. it's been exactly 6 weeks like you said. can we finally talk?"

[rottenpumpkin13]

What would hurt each of the Firsts feelings? Enough to get them weepy, angry and/or depressed.

Sephiroth: Betrayal hits him hardest—doesn't matter if it's abandonment, someone deliberately using his own weaknesses against him, or just being lied to. Especially when it comes from someone he trusts. He knows Genesis and Angeal have the power to hurt him if they want to. He's told them so much—they know what gets under his skin, what makes him happy, what drags him down. They hold the power to destroy him, to bring him to the point of sobbing, to leave him unable to eat, sleepless, barely breathing. Betrayal from them would devastate him.

Genesis: Falling short, failure, inadequacy, the fear of mediocrity, the fear that everyone can see right through him. He was a brilliant child, set his path with goals and ambition. He was meant for more. But when things veer off course, when he's lied to, handed scraps instead of what he deserves, overlooked, it hurts him. It's that hollow, sick feeling of not measuring up. When he can't even bear to be in his own skin, when self-doubt turns into a rot he can't cure. What would hurt most is being treated (and finding out) like exactly what he's always feared he was: not good enough.

Angeal: There's always been a sadness in him he couldn't shake, even as a child. No matter how much he tried to help in the village, tried to be a good son, to look on the bright side and fight for his dreams, there was this grayness, this bitter taste that he chalked up to ingratitude. In his teenage years he buried it under his honor, pretending it wasn't there. But adulthood only made the weight heavier. He became the one others leaned on, the strong one, the reliable one, but never the one who could show weakness. And he felt so inexplicably weak.

Even after boiling it down to grief, he still can't explain what makes him sad. Some days he wakes up feeling guilty for no reason, with thoughts of dying with no honor, no shame. He wonders if his father's death was somehow his fault, or if he just doesn't deserve to be here at all. And on the worst nights, those thoughts dig in, leaving him sobbing on his kitchen floor at two in the morning, unable to do anything but exist, and somehow that's what hurts the most.

[stargirlrchive]

drabble: i knew you’d linger like a tattoo kiss ✩ jake sully

masterlist ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ 

summary: in which jake would haunt all your what ifs, angst, sad! not a folklore drabble - part two

word count: 455

comments: felt like making y’all sad

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

Jake stood before you but he was unable to meet your eyes, guilt embedded into his chest as your ears pinned against your head. You felt all the air rip from your lungs as you heard Tsu’tey’s words ringing loudly in your ears. “You mated with this woman?”

Only he was not talking about you, he was talking about Neytiri.

“We are mated before Eywa. It is done.”

You stumbled back, trying to place as much distance between you and all the Na’vi that were before you. Jake caught the movement, inching closer as if he was going to ask you not to leave. But he stopped himself, his eyes were pleading, some form of sadness swirling in them as he saw you retreat. You broke out into a sprint, hot tears falling from your eyes as you ran deeper into the forest.

You were trying to wrack your brain for how you could have misconstructed his feelings, his actions towards you but you were coming up blank. He had made his intentions quite clear, the lingering touches, the secret kisses you shared when it appeared that everyone was asleep, all the little in between that were just for the two of you. They were now tainted, smeared with betrayal and insincerity.

Only when you were deep enough into the thick shrub of the forest, vines and trees surrounding you did you stop. A scream ripped from your throat, chest heaving roughly and your tears never ending. You weren’t sure why it even shocked you so terribly. There had been rumors going around of the two, but you chalked it up to it merely being their close proximity. She was given the task to train him, but he’d always come back to you.

Every night without fail he’d be there, speaking to you for hours on end, showing you affection in a way you never had. Healing every internal scar you had, but now it felt as if they had all reopened, only ten times worse.

Everyone’s harsh words coming to the forefront of your mind, how they told you to stay away from the Dream-Walker, that he would only cause destruction and chaos. But you had not listened.

There was a quiet call of your name, his voice used to bring so much comfort to you but not now. Not ever again. You moved quickly, hiding deeper into the forest as he approached your now vacant spot. You thought you knew him, but the man before you was unrecognizable. It caused a bitter taste in your mouth, sadness turning into anger as you realized a part of you will always belong to him.

He would forever haunt you and all of your what ifs.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

[yngtort]

Cheater cheater, best friend eater

chan | lino | changbin | hyunjin | jisung | felix | seungmin | jeongin

NSFW ★

──────────

Xfem!reader You and jeongin had been best friends for years. He would do anything and everything to protect you. So when you call him drunk, crying your eyes out, he doesn’t hesitate to come to your rescue.

“Y/nnn, open up. I’m here.” He says as he knocks on the door of your apartment.

When you open the door, jeongin has to hold back a laugh at your clearly intoxicated state. Your eyes were blown out, while you subtly swayed as you stood. Dry tears littered your face, almost looking like a kid had taken chalk and went crazy.

“Hey,” you said, voice hoarse.

“Hurry up and let me in, it’s freezing.” Jeongin says, still stifling a laugh. He pushes his way into the apartment, locking the door behind him.

“How much have you had?” He asks before taking off his jacket his leather jacket, placing it on the back of the couch, and taking a seat.

You plop beside him. “not that much. Just two or three…bottles.”

“You’re joking, right?” Jeongin says in disbelief, looking at you almost like he was impressed. “What happened this time?”

A long sigh makes it passed your lips as you thought about how you ended up like this. Your boyfriend, Chris , had cheated on you after two years of dedication. You found out from changbin, a mutual friend of yours. He apologized for not telling you sooner and that he was tired of being an accomplice to Chris’s betrayal.

Go to him, you suppose.

But you didn’t cry because you were sad. it was just frustrating that you didn’t see the signs before hand. The relationship was already fizzling out— you and Chris argued every night. But for him to cheat on you, it was just insane. You hated being played, it’s the worst fucking feeling ever.

“Didn’t I tell you that he was a dick?” He clicked his tongue. “Your taste in men is deplorable.”

He’s right. You wish you could deny it, but the list of toxic men you’ve dated was extensive. That list also doubles as a list of how many jaws jeongin had broken.

“I’m just glad you’re done with him.” He said with a smile and you let out a nervous chuckle.

His smile dropped. “You are done with him, right?”

“Of course I am.. I just..” you scratched the back of your head, eyes darting around the room. “I haven’t actually broken up with him yet.”

“Excuse me?” He quirked an eyebrow. “The fuck do you mean you didn’t break up? Are you crazy?”

“I just don’t know how to bring it up.”

Jeongin scoffed, “oh but you can bring up ending our friendship over a pudding cup.”

“We were like 16-” “I don’t want to hear it.”

You rolled your eyes and sunk into the couch, wishing it would just swallow you whole.

“So what are you gonna do? Stay with him?” He asked.

“Of course not. I’m just-“ you paused.

“just being an idiot? Baby, I know.”

“Fuck you.”

Jeongin laughed, patting your knee. “Well until you figure out what you want to do, let’s pound some rum and coke. Yeah?”

��

A hour had gone past as you both sat there, passing a bottle a Hennessy back and forth. Shark boy and lava girl, collectively both of your favorite movie, played on the tv.

“Seriously, we shudda been them for Halloween.” Jeongin slurred, handing you the bottle.

“Next year.” You took a swig, slightly wincing at the wretched taste . “Fuck, I’m done. ‘Can’t keep drinkin this shit.”

Jeongin snickers, watching you set it down on the table. “Weak.” He taunted.

“Shut it, I’ve been drinkin all day. (Bc of Chris.) I hate men.” You grumbled, eyes narrowed.

Jeongin could tell how much this Chris incident was bothering you, although you barely showed it. he knew that you were probably blaming yourself, thinking you’re not good enough. But you more than enough, to him for sure. and he wanted you to know that.

Grinning, jeongin threw an arm around your shoulders and pulled you into his side. “know what? Just forget about these boys and just date me instead.”

You blinked, not knowing wether to take him seriously or not.

“ want us—Like me and you—” you pointed between the two of you. “To date?”

he was joking. He had to be. You’ve been best friends for practically your whole lives. Even when people tried to get yall together, not a single time did you ever consider it actually happening. And you were sure that jeongin felt the same way.

“I mean why not? I’d treat you better than any of your exes.” He said, eyes glancing down at your lips. “In more ways than one.”

He definitely didn’t feel the same way.

You felt the tips of your ears start to burn and you really hoped that it was because of the obsessive drinking. Jeongin seemed to notice and before you know it, his arm left your shoulder and slid to your waist.

“Jeongin,” “yes, baby?” He leaned in, free hand on your thigh.

oh.

“You’re drunk,” you place a hand on his chest trying to keep his body from moving any further. “You don’t know what you’re talking about”

“Then just blame it on the alcohol.” He chuckled. “I’ll take care of you for tonight and if you regret it in the morning, I’ll take full responsibility.”

—

If someone would’ve told yourself from a hour ago, that you’d be pressed down into the cushion of the couch by your best friend ; you wouldn’t have believed a word.

You wouldn’t be able fathom having jeongins head buried between your thighs as his tongue lapped over your clit with precision. Your hands tangled in his hair while you shamelessly rutted against his face.

You were a complete mess in your best friends hold and jeongin loved every second of it.

“So needy. Just look at you.” He said, planting kisses on your core. His member strained against his pants, begging to be set free. He had to focus on drawing soft circles on your hips, trying keep himself from flipping you over and pounding into you.

That’ll come later, but first he wanted to make you feel good on your own.

“Fuck— jeongin. ‘Mm so close,” You moaned out, head tossed over the arm of the couch as His tongue dipped in and out of you. you could feel your stomach tighten, orgasm creeping over until it bursts.

your body shakes violently as it rakes over you like a storm and jeongin has to hold you in place, still licking your clit as you cum. “S-stop it, inn. It’s too much.” You whimpered pathetically.

“shh, baby. Just a bit more” he whispered, still sucking you raw.

When he pulls his tongue off you, a string of saliva was the only connection between him and your core.

He moves up, bringing his lips to yours and you could taste yourself on his tongue. You could feel his length press against you, making you whine into the kiss.

You wanted him bad. Your fingers found their way to the waistband of his pants.

“Goddamn it, y/n” Jeongin pulled back with a hiss once he felt you free his member, taking it into your hand. “You’re so impenitent. want me to fill you up, yea?” He grunted, bucking his hips in your palm.

“Please,” You begged through a short breath. “Fuck, jeongin. Please, I need it.”

“Baby, it’s already in your hands. I’m sure you can figure it out. You’re such a smart girl.”

hearing him speak like that had an effect on you like no other. you were clenching around nothing, wondering if this was the same man you called your best friend. It was conflicting but it made you hornier than ever.

without hesitation, you positioned his member at your entrance.

“Good job, love.” Jeongin praised, planting a soft kiss and on your temple.

he slipped his tip inside, but to your surprise, didn’t go any further. Instead, he pumped his head in and out of your entrance, feeling it stretch and close around his dick. The constant teasing made you hyper aware of that certain spot. “Inn.” You whimpered, hands finding their way to hips. “Don’t play with me like this. Just fuck me.”

A wicked grin formed across his face as he got the reaction he wanted. “I’m sorry baby,” he chuckled, “ ‘just so fun seeing you clench and try to hold me in there.”

He grabbed your wrist, pinning them above your head.

“Forgive me, yeah?” He asked. Although he knew you’d never respond because you were to busy crying over his dick that he pushed inside you.

every inch of his girth was buried in your warmth.

He clicked his tongue, “Tight, you’re so fucking tight. Has Chris not been fucking you right??” He rasped into your ear, his hips starting a steady and sensual pace.

no, not like this. You had never been treated like this. Not by Chris— not by anyone. “If I had known, I would’ve done this sooner.”

His thrusts were strong and deep, dick brushing that spot that made your toes curl. The hand he held on Your stomach, pushing it, added that extra pressure that had you crying out his name. “you’re so good for me. Sucking me up so well.”

you continued on like that, your best friend fucking you dumb until you’re spluttering mess. Even when he flipped you onto your stomach— he didn’t miss a single beat. It felt like nothing could stop you two.

But when your phone goes off on the coffee table, there’s a pause. It was small interval, enough time for jeongin to reach over and grab it.

“Looks like that boyfriend of yours is missing you.” He pulled you up by your hair, back against his chest. “Lets answer it, hmm?”

Before you could even think about protesting, the phone was being pressed to your cheek as jeongin went back to fucking you from behind.

“Hey, babe. I’ve been trying to call you all day. Is the there something wrong?” Chris asks, but you could barely comprehend his words.

Jeongin pounded into you, hips slapping against yours and you know Chris can hear it. And if he can’t, he could definitely hear your cries. “Chris— ngh!”

“Y/n, what’s going on? Where are you?”

Jeogin chuckles from behind, pulling the phone back. “sorry, been really busy hasn’t she?” He asked bringing a mix of confusion and anger to the man on the other line.

“Who the fuck is this? Let me talk to y/n.”

“I would but,” Jeongin sucked in a breath, “she’s got her hands full.”

You didn’t know when their conversation ended or if jeongin had even hung up or not. you were too busy getting your back blown out.

“You must’ve liked the thought of him hearing you like that, huh? You were clenching so hard around me, I thought it would break off” He rasped, hips snapping wildly.

“Inn, inn, inn.” You cried, tears welling up in your eyes.

His hips stuttered, a telling sign that he was reaching his limit. Heat built in both of your stomachs, aching for relief. “Gonna fill you to the brim ‘n make you mine.” He whimpered, leaning down, nuzzling his face into the curve of your neck. “Love you so much, Ugh.”

“Me too, inn.” You mewled, rocking in rhythm with his rut. That action in its self has jeogins dick twitching, his load following swiftly after.

He milked himself until his seed was spilling out of you with each pump. “Such a mess.” He whispered, sliding out of you.

Your poor couch.

The rest of the night was spent in the confines of your bed, both you and jeongin confessing some unsaid feelings— before sharing slow and wet kisses until you were eventually lulled to sleep.

:)

[lookingfts]

And lastly, here's a regency fic I started a while ago and would actually love to finish someday. It loosely follows canon, but with the twist that Anthony can see visions of the future, and tries to stay away from Kate because he thinks it will end badly.

Dark, glittering eyes. Like the full moon reflecting upon a calm ocean.

She is lovely – this woman. The woman. Anthony cannot explain the sensation that washes over him the first time he sees her, at seven and twenty, sleeping fitfully next to another woman – a mistress. A young widow who sends word whenever she is in town.

The haughty tilt of a sharp chin. A smug smile that graces plush lips.

She is on a horse, the sky misty and gray around them. The woman has bested him somehow, he thinks, as he watches her ride away. Breathless.

Anthony dreams of many women. Some of whom he has met, others who are simply figments of a lonely, fractured imagination.

None that feel so significant, though.

XX

It is three months before he sees her again. In a sheer white nightgown, hair falling in thick waves over her shoulders. She looks different like this, eyes wide and open. Vulnerable.

Lightning flashes through the windows of his father’s library, illuminating the sculpted angles of her face that have somehow gone soft. She is holding one of Edmund’s favorite books in graceful hands, and he takes it. Tells her about his father.

Tells her about the most devastating moment of his life.

Something draws them together, as strong as gravity binds them to the earth. The woman’s eyes fall to his lips, and Anthony-

Anthony wants. He is desperate to hold her, to feel her body pressed to his, filling the cracks and crevices that only seem to grow wider with time. He is desperate to kiss her, to feel the softness of her lips and draw little moans from her throat that will surely drive him senseless.

He wants every piece of her, so badly he cannot breathe for it.

But she does not want him. A crack of thunder shatters the spell between them and she runs.

Far away from him. As everyone always has.

XX

He sees so much more.

A ball, a dance, her eyes boring into his as he holds her as though it would kill him to let go.

A breath shared between them. Night and day, I dream of you.

Hot skin beneath his palms, flawless, glowing. The curve of her body fitting perfectly into his. Need, so much need, so much desire that Anthony fears he will break apart with the force of it.

It is not enough. These pitiful fragments. A taste of heaven before it is ripped from his grasp.

But he is certain, now, that he is not simply dreaming. She is real.

XX

The visions began when he was sixteen. Blurry, half-remembered dreams easily chalked up to déjà vu.

Benedict tossing a sputtering Colin into the lake.

Edmund bringing home a bouquet of yellow daisies for Violet.

Francesca playing the piano for Anthony when she was too shy to do it for anyone else.

And then-

The damn thing stung me.

His father pale, choking, collapsing in his arms.

His mother begging him not to leave.

His life changing, in the blink of an eye.

Anthony vomited when he awoke, face wet with tears. It was the worst dream he could have imagined.

Three weeks after, his nightmare came true.

XX

He had seen his father’s death in excruciating detail, and he could not save him. Did not even think he needed saving, because true visions of the future seemed…preposterous.

What was the purpose of such a gift, if he could do nothing to change the great tragedy that destroyed his family? Was that not a curse, a crushing burden of guilt that was impossible to carry on his weary shoulders?

Anthony became the Viscount. And he worked, pushing aside the part of him that never seem very far from a mental break. Worked to the point of exhaustion, worked until he was miserable.

That was the only recompense for his failure. He was not worthy of a life of happiness, of love, of passions.

He had been given a chance to save his father. To save his mother from her fathomless sadness, to save Hyacinth from the emptiness of never knowing such a great man.

The universe gave him an opportunity to protect the life of someone he loved dearly, and he squandered it. He would not receive another.

XX

She is real.

Awareness prickles at the edges of his memory as he chases the mysterious stranger. Has she lost control of her horse? Is someone chasing her? The world can be an unkind place to women traveling alone.

She jumps effortlessly over the brush and turns to face him. Drops her hood.

Dark, glittering eyes. Like the full moon reflecting upon a calm ocean.

The haughty tilt of a sharp chin. A smug smile that graces plush lips.

She has bested him, he realizes, as he watches her ride away. Breathless.

Anthony feels the cool morning air on his skin, the tension of the reins in his hands. This is not another vision.

He cannot believe she is here, this woman he has dreamed of for two long years. This beautiful, ethereal creature that has made his heart pound innumerable times, even as a mere ghost in his mind.

It pounds so desperately now that he half thinks he may collapse.

Anthony is helpless but to follow her. “Enjoying your victory lap?” he says, smirking at the way she startles and curses under her breath in another language. Hindi, perhaps. “You will not be afforded such an ample head start this time, I assure you.”

“Apologies, sir. I did not mean to cause anyone concern.” Her voice is lovely, crisp and melodic. Though he has heard it in his dreams, the reality far surpasses anything he could conjure.

It is strange. Unthinkably strange. The things he could say to her.

I know how you fit perfectly in my arms when we dance.

I know how you flinch during violent storms.

I know how it sounds when you gasp in pleasure.

For she knows nothing of him. He is a blank slate, a man no different than any other. She has not seen the life they could live. “Are you lost? I shall escort you back to town-.”

“I am not lost,” she says acidly. The bite in her voice is – thrilling, truly. They have spoken for mere minutes, and yet Anthony does not believe he has ever met a woman like her. “I am on my way back to Mayfair. It is just ahead.”

Anthony laughs. “Mayfair? Well, then.”

“I appreciate your attention, sir, but I assure you I am perfectly safe. So perhaps we can pretend this encounter never took place. You allow me to go my way, and you go yours.”

That cannot be, he wants to say. We are bound.

Anthony is no great believer in love. He knows it to be true, to be real. Only a fool could dismiss the connection between his parents, one that surpassed even death.

But he is unworthy of such a love. And even if he was, he does not know if it would be a blessing or a curse. Its capacity for pain is equal to that of its joy.

This woman, though – she is different. He has dreamed of many women, but none so often, none so desperately. Anthony does not even know her name, yet he feels as though he has stumbled upon something that will irrevocably transform the life he knows.

So he bickers lightly with her, enjoys the tinkling laugh he manages to extract from her stern countenance. He thinks perhaps she does not dislike him as much as she pretends to. All too soon, she rides off, leaving him confused and wanting in her wake. “We have not yet been introduced!”

“I am afraid that is not possible. Not when I have a victory lap to enjoy!” she shouts behind her, and Anthony cannot help but grin at her retreating form.

XX

His thoughts are filled with her. This woman who laughs like an angel and taunts him like the devil. This woman who stuns and challenges him, smoky bitterness and honey sweetness.

Anthony itches to learn more about her, considers asking around about the new family in Mayfair. But he will let their story play out how it must. If there is one thing he is certain of, it is that they will meet again.

There will be lust. He remembers the sensation of drowning in it. And a great deal more. His emotions are jumbled in visions, hazy and out of focus, but he remembers pieces. Remembers, most of all, the way his heart seemed to swell beyond the boundaries of his chest as she shuddered in his arms.

A single thought, emanating from somewhere deep in his mind. Finally.

How long does he wait for her?

XX

Cold rain plastering his skin.

A horse rearing in the air.

Kate.

He wakes.

Anthony climbs out of bed, paying no attention to the early hour. He will not be able to return to sleep.

Every blink forces the image of her on the ground, cold and lifeless, blood seeping from her head.

And he knows. Deep in his soul.

These images are not of a great love story. They are what he has always feared. Visions of another death, one that he will be helpless to stop.

He bangs his fist against the wall and bites back a shout for the sake of not disturbing his family. Anthony knows he has not always been a good man, but he cannot imagine what he has done to deserve this torment. Why must he be haunted with this knowledge? Has he not suffered enough already?

Anthony thinks of the woman. Kate.

The heat in her eyes as they lock with his, a thousand words passing between them silently.

The softness of her when her armor is gone, when she lets him see her true heart.

The gentle caress of her fingers against his face, making him feel worthy. Valuable.

It cannot be allowed. Any of it. He has seen himself at her final moments, the unshakeable conviction that all of it is his fault. The only course is to cut off their path before it begins, to keep himself away from her at all costs.

Anthony laughs at his own selfishness. He does not want to give her up, knowing all they will experience together.

But he will do it, in the meager hope that it can change the tide and spare her life. And if it changes nothing-

Well, then, at least he will be spared witnessing the death of someone he loves for a second time.

[twstfanblog]

Wait so manhwa B Yuu has a lot of near death experience in childhood, so like. Have they ever gotten caught in between an assassination attempt meant for kalim? Maybe Jamil tried to protect Kalim but then Yuu pushed him out of the way? Cause that would be really angsty and only add to some nice well deserved guilt

I don't think a lot about Manhwa B but that just gave me an idea.

Jamil is much nicer (Because he's basically got his adult mindset in his child body. He just looks at Kalim and Yuu playing and smiles). But he's also hyper-vigilant compared to before he came back in time.

One day, Jamil is on edge and can't figure out why he's so tense. Turns out this is one of those days where Yuu is around when she wasn't in the first timeline. At this time the trio have noticed the nasty coincidence of Yuu nearly dying when they try to do whatever they had put off in the first timeline. He just chalks it up to feeling tense because he needs to make sure nothing happens to Yuu or Kalim.

But only when Kalim offers a bite of food to Yuu, even though he's only just eating to check for poison. and when he tastes it he realizes why he's so on edge. This is the day Kalim was actually poisoned.

He spits the food out and whips around just in time to see Yuu swallowing the bite Kalim offered to her. Jamil grabs Yuu and manages to force her to throw up. But she's 8 so...yeah she's crying and scared so Yuu goes home early. Jamil is guilty that he let his guard down, that he had to do that even though it was what was best in that moment. Kalim understands, but he's sad too that Yuu doesn't want to come over anymore after all that...

The trio in Manhwa B are trying so hard to keep Yuu safe but it feels like the universe is trying to take her away from them.

[zep-zep-blog]

This is 100% based off the song and episodes 🫡. I also might rewrite this to fit Lucifer too.

Vox x gn!reader

Genre: Angst, fluffy ending, hurt/comfort, song fic

Cw: Imposter, talk of being replaced, mind control(?), swearing, fighting

☾Seeing doubles☽

Reader and Vox are getting married, but something seems off about reader and Vox seems more laggy than usual. Is it nerves or something else?

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Velvette knew something was off. She always had a hunch about something. She knew when Valentino hid his anger or at least tried..and failed, she knew when you and Vox tried to hide your relationship at first, hell she even knew Vox wanted to marry you before he knew himself. Yet she couldn't pinpoint what was off about you and Vox. You guys acted like normal, but Vox seemed more dazed than usual and you seemed to snap at random. That definitely wasn't right, but she chalked it up to nerves or stress about the upcoming wedding and all the planning that had consumed your daily schedule.

It started off small, making comments you usually wouldn't make, having a strange aura, and overall just acting off. Then, she noticed your taste was different, liking a different flavor of cake and other desserts. Then your style was weird, you had always wanted a certain type of outfit for the wedding and yet there you stood in the bridal store wearing something you would never even look at.

Vox was no different, he always had an 'all bark, no bite' vibe, but he seemed more dazed, and laggy, and he blue-screened more than usual. Again, it could all be chalked up to wedding nerves and cold feet or whatever. But when Velvette had a hunch, it was usually right.

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She placed hidden cameras around, ones that Vox couldn't connect to. She hired imps and sinners she made deals with to follow you and Vox around. She constantly tried to keep an eye on you and it finally paid off. She had caught you talking about not loving Vox and sucking the love out of him, this confused and worried her. This person wasn't you, you loved Vox dearly and definitely showed it.

When she found this out she tried to share it with Valentino, but he was both stubborn and blind to hear her out. She tried to get through to Vox, but he lagged and shooed her away. She was frustrated and royally pissed off, someone definitely replaced you and she will get to the bottom of it.

She decided to confront your imposter at dinner before the wedding in hopes of them coming forward. Unfortunately, it ended with everyone shunning her and shutting her down. She left the restaurant pissed, no one was listening to her clearly concerning revelation. She turned the corner and was face to face with you? The imposter?

"Oh, what do you want? I know you aren't the real [Name]." She says with a sour tone.

"Oh, I just wanted to apologize." Your voice rang out, but it had a creepy undertone.

"What the fuck-" Velvette gets cut off as a ring of green fire surrounds her and her vision goes black.

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For what felt like months you were trapped, stuck in this mirror-like prison. With no light except the natural red one that reflected off the crystal-like cave walls. You felt helpless, and scared, with no idea what that monster did to Vox. She was hungry for power and love, she fed off it.

You were so excited, to walk down the aisle with your fiance. To share vows, kisses, and cake, but now? It seemed all too futile. Your eyes were red and puffy from crying tears of frustration and sadness. Your hair was messy from being kept from a hairbrush for heaven knows how long. You had a few scrapes and bruises from wandering aimlessly in the dark, unable to see where a rock or wall was.

That was how it was until you heard the familiar voice of Velvette echo through the caves. Soon she found you, her phone flashlight bouncing off the crystal walls as her eyes met yours.

"[Name]? Is that really you? You're not that prick that replaced you, right?" She asked, looking you over with concern and weariness.

You nod several times, tears welling in your eyes as you hug her. This is the first contact you had with anyone for a long time. It wasn't the warmth of Vox, but it was still comforting nonetheless.

"We have to get out of this shit hole and stop her," Velvette says, pointing her phone flashlight toward the end of the crystal tunnel.

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"This day is going to be perfect. The kind of day of which I dreamed since I was small." Your imposter said, spinning a red rose in between her fingers before putting it into the bouquet.

"Everybody will gather 'round, say I look lovely in my gown." She said, twirling in the mirror, the white lace and silk of the outfit spinning around her figure. "But, what they don't know is that I have fooled them all." She smirks, placing the matching accessory in her hair. She had successfully replaced you and would soon get what she wanted.

'This day was going to be perfect..the kind of day of which I dreamed since I was small..but, instead of having cake with all my friends to celebrate. My wedding bells, may not ring for me at all..'

You and Velvette raced desperately to find a way out, hoping to make it before your double married Vox. You feared what would happen if those vows were made before you could escape.

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"I could care less about the dress." She said, taking a seat at the vanity. "I won't partake in any cake." She took one of the makeup brushes and applied blush to her cheeks. Your replacement stood up and again did a once over in the mirror before turning to a picture of you and Vox. It was your anniversary, both of you smiling and facing the camera. "Vows? Well, I'll be lying when I say, 'That through any kind of weather I'll want us to be together.'" There was a mocking tone in her voice as she scowled at the photo.

"The truth is I don't care for him at all." She took the picture frame and shoved it into one of the dresser drawers, slamming it shut in disdain. "No, I do not love the groom. In my heart, there is no room."

'But I still want him to be all mine.'

"We must escape before it's too late, find a way to save the day." You say to Velvette, searching around for an exit to the reflective prison. She places her hand on your shoulder, breaking you out of your desperate daze. "We'll make it. Don't worry.

'Hope I'll be lying when I say 'I don't fear that I may lose him to those who want to use him. Not care for love and cherish him each day. For I-oh so love the groom. All my thoughts he does consume.'

You and Velvette finally find an exit, rushing to see the surface of hell. You hope that time will be on your side and those wedding bells won't ring soon.

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'Oh Vox, I'll be there very soon.' You pray to the same god that condemned you down here as you and Velvette weed through the streets of the entertainment district. Hoping the crowd would move faster so you could make it to the venue before your imposter made it down the aisle. You and Velvette make it to the entrance, weaving in and out of the crowd as the wedding bells ring out. You look at Velvette with wide eyes, doubt clouds hers as she realizes there's a chance you won't make it.

'Finally, the moment has arrived for me to be one lucky bride.' She smirked as she walked down the aisle, your aisle towards your future husband. Her veil trails behind her as she steps in tune with the wedding march being played.

'Oh, the wedding we won't make, he'll end up marrying a fake. Vox will be-'

'Mine. All mine.'

She gets to the alter, facing a dazed and glitchy Vox. He was clearly under some sort of magic or curse as she stood there. Right as the officiant clears his throat to start his speech you burst through the doors. The guests gasped and turned their heads, there you stood looking madder than ever. The guests looked back and forth between you and the imposter, not knowing who was real and who wasn't. The sinner in your place stared daggers at you, throwing the bouquet to the floor.

"You bitch!" You screamed, pointing fingers at your double. The room went silent, most of the crowd was shocked. "H-how are there two of you?" One of the guests shouts, causing the rest to start whispering amongst themselves.

"She's a shapeshifter! She takes any form and gains power from the love you have for someone!" This caused the fake you to cackle. She stepped forward, smashing the bouquet. "Right, you are. I've been feeding off his love for you, every second I grow stronger." She stepped towards you, green flames engulfing her as she transformed back into her original form. "He may not be my husband, but he is under my total control-" You cut her off by punching her in the face and knocking her to the floor. At this point, the only people left were you, her, and the Vees, the guests had left in a hurry as soon as she transformed.

"Fuck with me or Vox again and I'll remind you why I'm down here." You glare, your words sharp. Her eyes were wide, you had landed a hit on her when she had been practically untouchable for years. She scowled, "This won't be the last time you see me. Mark my words." With that, she disappeared into a pillar of emerald flames.

As soon as she's gone you rush to Vox's side, putting your hands on his shoulders and shaking him softly. "Vox? Vox, please snap out of it." You beg, tears starting to well up in your eyes. Your voice broke as he didn't seem to register your words. You broke down, hugging him tightly. Velvette and Valentino stood there silently as you sobbed into his shoulder, your relationship, him boiled down to nothing from the shapeshifter's doing.

In a last-ditch attempt, you kiss him, hoping it would spark something between the wires for him to snap out of it. Your hands grip his shoulders as you pull away, looking at the black screen. It flashed and he slumped into your arms with a groan.

"Vox? Vox?" You gently shake him, trying to him to look at you.

He turns his head up and looks at you in confusion, "[Name]?"

You hug him tighter, tears falling down your cheeks. Vox is super confused as to why you're crying and the fact he was in an empty wedding venue with you.

"What the- what are we doing here? Why the hell are you so dirty?" Vox pulled away and wiped your tears with his thumb. "We can talk about it later, let's just get home." You say softly, leaning your head into his touch.

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Over the next few weeks, you and Vox planned a real wedding, with the real you. You and Vox picked the right flavors and bridal outfits, happy that it was actually you two. Velvette had never seen Vox this happy and she's his business partner and one of the closest people to him this side of hell.

You finally felt at ease when you walked down the aisle with Vox, saying your vows and slipping the matching rings on. Not even a spear made from shiny angelic steel could break this.

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IT'S FINALLY FINISHED ᕙ(⍢)ᕗ Hope yall enjoy <3

Requests open!!

Tag list: @mrssabinecallas

[stackslip]

your post about fma03 are good and i'm stuck thinking about scar for hours at a time again. stories talking about 'revenge' can read really bad to me because a lot use 'this oppressed minority trying to fight state violence is bad' plotline. fma03 was honestly pretty unique in that scar was this tragic hero instead. it's sad, it's clearly difficult for him and he see him struggle, but everything he does was also necessary to prevent further genocide.

YEAH, it's a trope i absolutely loathe and scar in the og manga is its poster boy and everyone and their mom loves to pretend it's super progressive or something lol. there are aspects to scar's manga character i wish i could have enjoyed more were he not constantly scolded by half the cast for being an Evil Murderer when the war criminals' redemption arcs are assumed to be done by now and they're good people we should all root for. bc like. i genuinely LIKE the idea of scar's brother's other arm being about reconstruction. i LIKE the concept of scar holding destruction and rebuilding at once, and being able to one day move on and participate in the rebuilding of ishbal! but it comes with the idea that he is wrong for wanting to destroy amestris's military and the people who've murdered his people in the first place, it comes with him calling himself scum for being a Bad Murderer, it comes with the only other major talking ishbalan character BEING A MEMBER OF AMESTRIS'S MILITARY, UNDER THE COMMAND OF A WOMAN WHO CURSES HER BROTHER OUT FOR NOT HAVING JOINED IN THE GENOCIDE, basically scolding scar in turn for daring to want revenge. lol. i likewise would like the thing between him and mei a lot better if it didn't feel like it didn't play in tropes of "this big brown scary man is actually sweet bc this cute pale skinned girl makes him Soft" which.... i'm not fond of. i like mei and his relationship to her a lot, I Do Not Like The Framing. i do not like what arakawa does with scar in the manga, and this will always, ALWAYS be my biggest contention with fma, my line in the sand that i refuse to back down. so many things i can chalk up to taste, but i'm never not going to argue that scar's treatment in the og manga is absolutely abysmal.

in comparison, the way 03 reframes scar from his very first appearance as someone a lot more vulnerable/human and understandable, how his violence is put into context for what amestris has done to him and how al and him have this direct connection and mutual understanding, down to al flat out saying "if someone killed my brother i'd probably want to burn down the world too".... it's just. really good all around. scar's arc does not revolve around the elrics' plot, but when he does encounter them it's not so ed can scold him for being a murderer--because scar can and does bite back ed for participating in the military in the first place. his encounter with lust, the dynamic between him, his brother and his brother's love and how all three of them have been denied even their very names and identity in the aftermath of the genocide..... unbelievably bleak. how lust and scar likewise are trying to reclaim an identity as specifically Ishbalan in different ways too! lust by remembering what she was made from, going against dante and realizing what has been taken away from her, dying while proclaiming I WAS A WOMAN FROM ISHBAL. and then you have scar, who refuses his past name because he died with his brother and he died with the old ishbal. amestris murdered him along his people. there's no coming back from this. and like.... it's tragic, because it means scar is doomed from the start. he sees himself as a ghost and he is unable to not be one. but he also *chooses* to do something of it. to not simply pursue revenge but to actively stop amestris's military from repeating the genocide in liore! he is STILL enacting violence, he is using ishbal's own old alchemy and usurping amestris's claims so he can turn their own weapon back on them. ishbal was murdered for amestris's principles, and likewise scar is going to destroy as much of the amestrian military as he can in the name of not only avenging ishbal but stopping it from ever happening again! and his plan works. it works, and it's tragic, but also triumphant. it's tragic because scar was a good man.

that's the difference between the treatment of scar in og fma and 03. in the former, scar is the one character who has to Grow Into A Good Person, because it is assumed that no good person should use violence even to defend their people and avenge genocide. because violence is the prerogative of the protagonists, and because it is easy to remove the "bad people" from the premise--you can just excise them as a tumour, and then amestris is no longer a fascist and genocidal hell state. never mind that a sympathetic character (one often touted as a feminist icon ffs) is actively defending her choice to participate in the genocide to the end and derides another for NOT participating in it, but apparently she's fine! but scar has to Learn To Forgive and becoming a good person means settling down and things will magically improve. and scar has to learn this from the elrics, even as they talk down to him and see him in a very negative light, because apparently the two blonde protagonists understand violence better than a survivor of genocide does.

in 03, scar is a good person. or at the very least, he's entirely justified. and he might not be right 100% of the time, but he is from the beginning considered to understand a lot more of the world than the elrics are! he is a tragic hero because he died long ago, and there was no other path for him. and he isn't.... wrong. it's been shown in 03 that ishbalan survivors literally get hunted and displaced wherever they go. they can't rebuild, as long as amestris is as it is! you can't just spout platitudes about how violence is bad, because even if you give up violence it will show up at your door and burn your refugee camp and the only way to counter is meeting it with violence yourself. where ed sacrifices himself at the end for his brother in another tragic hero ending, scar sacrifices himself for not only the memory of his brother but for all of ishbal AND liore to be able to live. and he's right! he's destabilized the military enough that when roy makes his choice and kills bradley, the military has been crippled and is forced to take a step back, and amestris is suddenly on the defensive and no longer able to take on offensive wars. ishbalans and liorites are shown rebuilding in peace, as amestrian soldiers are no longer able to attack them. scar's sacrifice worked. he took on the identity of old ishbal's avenging ghost, and he pushed it to the end. he finally accepted his brother's love and sacrifice, and sacrificed himself in turn--like the elrics do! his last words are words of love. they're tender. in the moment that he kills hundreds of amestrian soldiers, music swells. yes, it's tragic. fma 03 isn't saying that justified violence is all glory and roses, it's still painful--the soldiers' death isn't a fun happy time, but.... they were coming in to murder thousands of liorites, possibly rape some of them like they did rose. their lives, 03 says again and again, are *not* more important than the lives of marginalized people. they've made their choice. violence here was the right call, it was an act of love, and it is framed as such. scar's final act is mirrored by the final act of the protagonists, there too an act of love. scar in 03 is so much more humanized and respected a character than he is in the manga, and regardless of 03's other failings or differences in taste, i will argue that his story in 03 is more relevant and real as ever today as it was during the political context of 2003-04

[splendsay]

COD FF // Callsign: Sunshine // Ch. 43: Into the Unknown

you know that genre of like mildly spooky and sad and ethereal music with birds chirping in the background?

that's what I imagine playing in Ace's head throughout this scene. our poor gal has really just been through it.

..................................................................

Callsign: Sunshine // Chapter 43: Into the Unknown

Rating: 18+ !!MDNI!! Chapters: 43/? WC: 115,752 Pairing(s): TF141 x F!Reader (You) Chapter Warnings: Explicit language, canon-typical violence Chapter Excerpt (🚨spoilers!!🚨):

It's a half-day's drive to the airfield. Cap says rendezvous time is sunrise. 

You check your watch -- less than two hours out. 

You're operating yet another vehicle. This one is old. A Jeep, of course. A giant, scrappy hunk of metal nobody else wanted to drive. You, though, were more than happy to oblige. That is, until you remembered the last time you were behind the wheel of one of these fucking things. 

Until you saw the way your left hand clutched said wheel, knuckles stark against the rest of your hand. 

You went back in time. Back to Simon barking orders. To a searing pain near your wrist. The stench of undead, unwashed, unreal bodies throwing themselves at you, all mindlessly desperate for a taste. 

You steal glances at your forearm every now and again -- the smooth, slightly paler shade of your scars all that's left. It doesn't hurt. Doesn't so much as twinge. But the skin there is slightly cooler. Softer. Newer. 

Marked. 

Soap joins you in the front seat, Simon in the back. 

You could cut the tension with a knife if you had one, but they're all packed. 

You cracked the windows a little early on, just to get some air circulating. 

It's cold. Biting. You've no idea the actual date, but you'd guess it's close to the end of November. 

Winter is knocking.

The three of you haven't really had a chance to revisit your conversation from the other day, and Soap hasn't indicated that his thinking about it has amounted to any sort of decision. 

Not that you've had much time to process or think about it yourself. Between hauling boxes of supplies to and from the caravan, paring down your belongings to the barest and easiest to carry essentials, and tearfully saying goodbye to the most sentimental corners of the estate -- it's been a busy few days. 

Cap, Gary, and Gaz are in the truck ahead of you, navigating. Farah, Alex, and the Los Vaqueros boys trail behind you in a Jeep twin to yours. 

The cars are loud. Cutting through the early morning silence with guttural, cacophonous growls. The noise irritates you. The stench of gasoline irritates you. 

Everything irritates you. 

You're tired. Exhausted, really. Devastated. Melancholic. Anxious. 

And still fucking bleeding. 

As if on cue, your abdomen seizes in a tight, sharp jolt of pain, spreading slowly as the cramp works its way through your muscles, bearing down on your lower body. 

You only managed to procure a pitiful supply of rags before your departure. At this rate, you'll bleed through them before you even get to Boston. 

You glance to your right to find Soap watching you. 

You chalk a brow. "What?" you mouth. 

He gives you a pointed once-over with his eyes and raises a brow of his own. A silent appraisal. And question. 

"I'm fine."

He pushes his lips out, pursing them as if to say, "I don't believe you."

You roll your eyes and turn back to face the road. It's an old highway. You can't tell if you've driven it before -- they all sort of look the same. Cracked asphalt splitting grassy, overgrown hills. Abandoned cars flanking either end. 

Bones littered about. 

Not a lot -- most bodies turn into monsters, after all. But, some. 

Enough. 

Enough to chill your own bones. Enough to haunt you.

Aine's face floats through your mind, mangled and terrified. Missing eye. Missing teeth. Scalp half gone.  

Brains on the floor. Gaz's pained, angry face. 

Sometimes in your dreams, it's his eye that's missing. His brains on the floor. Or Simon's. Soap's. Farah's. Even the Captain's. 

"Ace," Simon's voice cuts through the roar of the engines, the roar of your thoughts. 

You blink and lock eyes with him in the rearview mirror. They're soft. Warm and open. Concerned.

"What?"

"We're stopping."

You see the lights then -- bright and crimson. Hear the squeal of long-disused brakes. 

"Oh."

You slow down, shifting into first and then neutral, parking right behind Cap's truck. 

You grimace as you disembark, the feeling of the blood leaving your body finally succumbing to gravity sending a shiver of disgust through you. You slam the door shut with a dull thud.

The immediate warmth of Soap at your side draws your gaze to his. 

"I'm fine, Soap," you insist, voice low. Your breath clouds in front of you. 

His fingers brush yours. "Y'sure?"

"I'm sure," you murmur, the intimacy of the question -- the gesture -- momentarily stunning you. 

Simon's head appears above Soap's, scanning the area behind you, his face illuminated faintly by headlights. You turn to see what he sees. 

A giant field. Massive. Easily the size of a few football stadiums. And flatter than most places you've seen in your limited experience in the Scottish countryside. 

"We're in England," Simon observes. 

"Where?"

"Dunno for sure. South of Manchester at least."

"How do you figure?"

He shrugs. "'Cause we've been driving since yesterday."

"Oh."

"Alright, lads," Cap says, walking over to the group, squinting against the beams of light, Gary and Gaz at his back. "Ladies. We've got about an hour or so before the boys from America birdie in. We'll lift off from here and take a plane out of Dublin."

"How long is the flight to Boston?" you find yourself asking quietly. Almost shy. You don't know where that's coming from. The shyness. But it seems to be infiltrating you. Like you're reverting. Like the separation from what you've grown attached to has ripped away the last eight months. Like the memories you've made are stored there rather than in your own head. 

Soap's fingers brush yours again, but this time he hooks your index finger with his. A gentle anchor. 

Cap's answering look is sharp. Penetrating. All business. "Seven hours give or take," he answers gruffly. 

The team begins to unload the supplies as a soft, frigid mist descends, coating the ground in a layer of moisture.

You help as best you can, though with so many doers around, you wind up mostly supervising. Boxes and bags of clothing and food and artillery -- even Doc's viral sample -- all stacked in towers against the wheels of each truck, until they're taller than the vehicles themselves. 

It makes you sad that you'll just abandon them here. 

Like all the cars along the highway. 

Like you left the house. A woebegone prison, of sorts. A container for your memories. A solitary film projector. Cursed to replay your spools of Super 8 over and over and over, infinitely, for an audience of none. 

You stare at the Jeep. At the space where its tires meet the grass. You absently run a finger along its scuffed metal surface.

Discarded carcasses. Relics of the past. Victims to time and circumstance, as much as any of the rest of you.

How sad it must be to have no ability to move oneself. How lonely to be trapped where you're left. 

..................................................................... Links to: Spotify Playlist Full Fic

[remus-poopin]

What are your top HP fics based on writing? Like things that are just beautiful to read

Wow I think I’m answering this 3 months late sorry aghh. Again, I don’t read as many fics as I would like to, but I’ve been changing that recently and these are 4 that have really stood out to me in terms of writing!

Savour the Moment by - @evesaintyves

This fic made me both sad and hungry

This is a truly beautiful portrait of Molly and her relationship with Ginny. I really love how effortlessly this weaves in the food and cooking imagery with the emotions of the characters. The descriptions are so detailed and vivid that you can practically taste the cakes and pies off of the words alone.

Grief is hanging over this fic heavy, grief from Molly with her brothers and grief yet to come from Ginny. These two very different women, who also feel things very differently, have an extremely engaging back and forth of attempted connections. Both of them want it but aren’t able to easily get there with each other, and that struggle was very compelling to me.

Really such a great fic, I always find myself coming back to it

Favorite quotes:

“Molly has always tasted her memories. Perhaps that's why she's always been a bit thick round the middle: food relishes the good times, is the physical stuff of love. Ever since she was a little girl: plum pudding was Christmas and summers were cherry ice cream and chocolate flake. The time she broke her ankle jumping down from a tree, to this day, is the chalk flavor of Skele-Gro and a limp cucumber sandwich from the St Mungo's cafeteria. Her mother is sweet milky tea and her father is cottage pie with mushrooms, his favourite, flavoured with the smoke of his pipe in the air.”

“She learned to cook at her own mother's elbow and she is full of warm, creamy, ginger-flavoured memories of it. But Ginny's never liked being in the kitchen with her mum. She wants to be out with the boys, flying on broomsticks, getting jostled and scraped and braying coarse laughter through a mouthful of blood. That's why, when she thinks about Ginny, it's not the cream tea and swiss roll flavours she expected when she learned she was finally having a girl. It's rain-drenched popcorn at the Quidditch match and the salt of a kiss on Ginny's sweaty, gritty forehead.”

Sparkling Cyanide - @saintsenara

The house elf plot-line in the hp books leaves MUCH to be desired when it comes to fully and unequivocally condemning slavery. Due to this, you might find that me and my black ass are, shockingly, not its biggest fans.

However this fic is a brilliant look into elves’ oppression and enslavement AND their culture and agency.

This fic focuses on the death of Hepzibah Smith and the conditions surrounding and leading up to it. Specifically the subjugation of Elves and how that system encourages the idea of them as docile, unintelligent, and submissive (And how this perception can be wielded against the wizards that enslave them).

What I find so striking about this fic is how language is centered as a tool to illustrate the functions of colonial mindsets. I think this does a fantastic job at subverting the trope of “improper English = stupidity” that HP uses so frequently.

This was an extremely satisfying and moving read!

Favorite quotes:

“Come quickly and stop faffing,’ Mes Ebhsebbá says to Eokhí. She is clicking her fingers at Eokhí, like there is magic in her fingers. There is magic in Eokhí’s fingers. She is able to make the whole house fall to the ground if she is wanting to.”

“They is not knowing that we is knowing how to take the lives we is wanting from them. And that is why they is not thinking about how many weapons they is putting in kitchens.”

The Seven names of Mrs Zabini - @artemisia-black

And if I said that she did nothing wrong then what?

I’ve mentioned this fic several times before but I don’t think I’ll ever be over it. The way this is written is actually masterful; the attention to details, the poetic language, the characterization. I’m going to scream.

There is just something about this fic that entrances me. This is actually my favorite genre of story, the “good for her!” category, and whenever I read/watch these I go temporarily insane.

Because this is in first person we’re really getting into Mrs. Zabini’s mindset and the traumas that inform it, and this is extremely effective/convincing in making you stay on her side even while she is committing cold blooded murder.

Another thing I love about this is how the actual murders are so casually placed in the story, in comparison with how rich the rest of the imagery that Mrs. Zabini is describing. It’s almost like an afterthought. It makes her sound so much colder and more calculating than if there was a long depiction of each individual killing, so I thought that was a really brilliant writing choice.

If you love Gone Girl definitely give this a read!

Favorite quotes:

“There is a reason that Venus herself emerges from her half shell as a fully formed woman, blinking naively into existence. This is what men actually desire, a goddess who knows nothing of the world and so is more easily amused by the trinkets he throws at her. A divine being who is blissfully unaware of her own divinity. A being who had no thought but him and who cannot function outside of him.”

“I had gone to my wedding bed expecting a transformative experience where his penis would alchemise me from a girl into a woman. An expectation I had imbibed from a society that exalts the wonder of the male member. Instead, as I lay there shivering with his rotten seed running down my leg, I felt used and disgusted at the man I had been condemned to spend the rest of my life servicing”

“And as I rattled around our isolated country house, I believed him. Hiding myself from mirrors, starving my body in order to obtain the concave stomach and taut thighs that he so desired. But when I corrected one perceived flaw, he would find another. Peppering his insults with crumbs of tenderness that lured and trapped me in reality of his making.”

The Secret in the Heart of the Forest by @myrskytuuli

This one has it all: accidental cannibalism, ancient rituals, Snape sass, feral Lily, elf politics, generational trauma, fairy induced psychosis, and most importantly the Marauders + Sev and Lily + Regulus and Narcissa all teamed up. Oh yeah I’m eating this up

This one is longer than the others so I’m really going to try to make this as brief as I can but this fic is actually insane because it’s everything I’ve ever wanted in a hp fic and I think I could talk about it forever.

I was genuinely so giddy reading this. There were so many twists and turns and it remained gripping the whole time. This is a psychedelic fever dream, introspective character study, horror adventure and a beautiful tale of friendship all wrapped in one. I absolutely loved everyone’s characterization here, they’re all so beautifully flawed and you can really understand where they are coming from on a personal level but also on a sociological level, I think the author did a MASTERFUL job at this.

The worldbuilding is INSANELY good (the interlude chapters revolving around each of their mothers made me cry repeatedly. And Elieens chapter is just incredible, I have no words). And the pacing is just excellent, I never felt like any of the growth was forced or unearned.

This storytelling is also amazing, whenever there was a theme or reference brought up before in the story that got tied back in again, my mouth would physically drop because it was so seamless yet so meaningful and impactful.

(Sorry but I just need to talk about characterization for a brief minute because this has some of my favorite characterizations that I’ve ever read of some of these characters:

This is my absolute favorite Lily. Like ever. She feels so real here with her anger and flaws and quirks. She is neither villainized nor deified but a full fleshed out character. I just love her!

This is also my favorite James! James is usually a tough character for me to stay engaged with but this fic does an excellent job at balancing his strengths and flaws while keeping him compelling.

This Snape is PERFECT!!! I actually don’t think I can describe how much I love this depiction, all I can say is if you’re a Snape lover who enjoys him being a lil shit you should read this.

Also Peter is just incredible here, too often is he forgotten but this fic really does him justice.

Ok I’ll stop but just know that I could go on and on about all of these characters)

And seeing these characters who would normally hate each other come together to build meaningful bonds while they grow with their own issues is actually cathartic.

If you are a Marauder and Snape fan this is required reading, I really can’t recommend this enough!

Favorite quotes (there were way too many omg):

“Sirius had been angry for a long time now. Sometimes Sirius wondered if he had been born angry, if his first cry had never truly ended”

“Remus had said nothing after that. He was becoming a champion of saying nothing.”

“‘I’m sorry,’ he said.

‘I won’t forgive what you did to me.’ Severus said back with conviction.

‘Good.’ Sirius said with equal conviction.”

“At this point, Lily had arrived like the loyal shadow she tended to be around Snape, spitting out an angry ‘What the fuck?’”

“Sometimes he burned with the need to yank himself free of Lily and the blade of love hanging between them. To hurt her when she stepped over Severus' abused body like an avenging angel that looked down at him and made him look small, dirty, used and worthless. A worm crawling in the mud.”

Ok that’s all for now! I definitely think you should give all these a read!!