#like its kind of saddening

[qiekz]

This is me and I draw in the void on my phone and post it here

[plz reblog]

[dottowos]

omg i LOVE your writing so this new account is so exciting to me!!! if you're comfortable with it, could you share maybe your take on a subby dot??? :0

Dottore used to be the cutest and most whiniest sub when he was a student in the Akademiya. He was never very interested in sex before he met you and so you really just unlock a lot of new sensations and feelings for the scholar, such as - why does being pinned down by you have his head spinning and cock throbbing instead of snapping back feel so good? He is not the kind of person to sit back at another's mercy, he swears! Of course, that still holds true... the exception being you. It's just really easy to get Zandik to bite back his words with a few strokes of his cock, and another important measure, praise. Sure, he's touched himself a few times before, but it's truly nothing compared to your body weight pressed against his along with your cooing. Even if he happens to be on top, you're going to be the one egging him on and making him beg to fuck you.

Of course, hundreds of years later, he's no longer than inexperienced student and more importantly has gained quite a dominating presence. Intimidating. Cold. Frightening to the average person. However, behind closed doors there are still times he lets you take the reins. (Although he's not as pathetic as he was once. You still wish he was.)

Dottore's newfound confidence and arrogance will make it harder for you to break him down, but have no fear - you've dealt with this for a long time after all. He will be snarky and provoking in the beginning, appearing relaxed and unbothered when you begin to touch him. In truth, he hopes to make you snap so he can watch you lose yourself instead of the other way around. Not much fazes him anymore, so to properly have a needy Harbinger at your mercy, you will need a good amount of free time and patience.

For one, it drives Dottore crazy when you touch yourself and happen to come out of reach of his face - firstly, he should be the one doing that, secondly, how dare you deny him the right to taste you? He hates wastage. Alternatively, shove your fingers down his throat and he will happily choke on them as well as successfully shut that mouth of his. Especially if you happen to use his body to make you come, rubbing his tip against your hole to riding his thigh - using him like a toy just like he does with you - Dottore will tease you at first, but after time goes on, he will just watch you silently, twitching cock speaking for itself.

And of course, the more hands-on method is playing with his pretty cock and never letting him come, or even going as far to act uninterested. Whether you decide to ride him or fuck him, you're sure to have him gritting his teeth and drawing blood from teasing his neglected cock. You may need to invent new restraints because technically, nothing normal can hold him back with his Archon-like strength (one time he accidentally snapped them while jerking into your hand - there was a brief awkward pause.)

In the end, you both get cleaned up and cuddle while watching him write some reports, when out of nowhere he reminds you to be ready for when it's his turn. <3

[lunarhobbits]

i do think the fact that shane is dressed like a supervillain in the announcement is really funny. when he betrays his audience he goes all out at least.

(credit to reddit user Icy_Arrival4510 on r/WatcherSnark for pointing this out)

[match-your-steps]

just read a review of the lego movie from 2014 and it is genuinely a horrible piece of literature and through perusing the comments underneath the review, I have gained an intense dislike of the reviewer. it's not even that I liked the lego movie and he didn't it's just that a lot of the stuff he says is factually incorrect, really stupid-sounding, or he doesn't provide any real reason, and in the comments, he reacts to even the friendliest and politest constructive criticism as if it's a personal attack on him.

[oldkamelle]

never forget of the art you're missing because of linguistic barriers

[badassbiburgerbob]

I love this

Here (1989) by Richard mcguire (raw magazine)

[nie7027]

Huh

It's been so long since I had a crush on someone

[arolesbianism]

Every now and then I remember that oni in fact will eventually have more lore added and I get so excited and scared for a moment and then I remember that it could take months until we see any of that and I proceed to forget abt it again and the cycle repeats

[rockingbytheseaside]

omg, I am quite literally in love with your work.

pls I cannot tell you how frickin ecstatic I am when I read your stuff 😭 like I’m Fr Rolling on the floor and stopping every five secs bc of the butterflies-

AND! I saw that your asks are open!! (If I misread/misunderstood then I’m so sorry and just ignore this) I was wondering if you could do Harbingers x reader when they find reader quietly weeping- like reader thought they were alone and didn’t wanna burden them :3 romantic if you would !!

no pressure ofc!!!! fr I love ur stuff sm like I’ve been reading ur stuff OVER AND OVER😭😭😭

(bshdhsgdhagjds Okay, let me just hold in my tears- that’s so kind of you anon! Sorry for making you wait, I hope this is something similar to what you wanted) 

✦ How they comfort you when you cry

Pierro, Capitano, Dottore, Scaramouche, Pantalone, Childe

Sometimes, your days might feel bitter, and sometimes the weight of your inner struggles can accumulate into a somber heap of self-doubt. Whether it was a minute inconvenience that resulted in your dampened mood, or stressful memories of the past – the reasons behind it fade into insignificance. Because next thing you know, you feel your shoulders slightly shaking, and your hand reaching to conceal your silent weeping. Thus, when talking becomes a burden and your breath runs short, your beloved is the first to listen to your sniffles.

✧ Pierro’s already icy gaze becomes unreadable. Is it fear? Is it astonishment? Or is it the readiness to unleash hell upon anything that compelled you to shed these silent tears? He sees you hugging yourself, trying to shield yourself away from him. His gloved hands cautiously reach for your form, like a blanket wrapping itself around your shoulders. 

“My divine one, why hide your tears away from me? Why conceal the sadness in your eyes when you silently weep? Please, grace me with your gaze and look at me.” 

His voice is careful despite its deepness, suppressing his boiling temper at the sight of your sadness. He reaches for you tenderly, and when you turn towards him, you allow yourself to cry further into his chest. He cradles you silently, never once wasting breath on simple shushes or admonishments to cease crying. No, The Jester will hold you, let his lips press softly to your forehead, and let you cry as much as you need. He'll personally worship and wipe every teardrop off your cheek. 

Yet despite his gentle arms, you sense him shaking. His gloved hands hold you securely, yet subconsciously gripping. Because pray to the archons above, he will not rest until the source of your sadness is annihilated. 

✧ Il Capitano never saw you cry before. He saw you as an equal in matters of battles, duels, and personal life. Through ups and downs, your best and worst. And yet the imposing, mighty Captain never witnessed his beloved’s face slowly scowl and emit those saddened sobs as you're doing now. 

“No… who bestowed such sadness onto you, my cherished? What sorrows are you fighting?” 

He asks, half in disbelief and worry. The Captain kneels down, the back of his armored hands gracefully meeting your face. He makes sure you’re not physically in pain, his touch asking permission for the simplest caress. You might feel embarrassed to explain why you're crying, but the Captain will coax you to talk only if you bestow him this honor. Otherwise, he never mocks or admonishes you for crying – “This is not a sign of weakness, but a sign of humanity in your strength.”

To soothe you, he'd drape an arm around your shoulder, bringing the side of his coat to shield you. If you desire, he'd immediately discard his coat entirely and wrap it over your shoulders. And if you desire neither this or that, he'd silently kneel, asking for permission to pick you up in his forearms, so you may rest on his shoulder while he carries you away. 

✧ You cannot conceal your sorrows from Il Dottore. He suspects you are feeling dejected before you even realize it. Should your shoulders quiver and tears well in your eyes, he'll be the first to perceive it. His already tense countenance will harden, and in short, murderous intent, he’ll ask:

“Who did this to you?”

His first suspension is that someone foolish enough dared to hurt you, and his next task is to seek out that moron. And stars above, if someone did ruin your day, the Doctor will have a new cadaver on his lab table. You'll have to physically restrain the Harbinger in front of you by putting your hands on his shoulder and explaining hurriedly that no one did anything harmful. 

Il Dottore won't quell his inner rage so easily though. As you shake your head, and rub your eyes, it will require much persuasion to convince him that it’s not as dire as he suspects. Nonetheless, Dottore will keep a tight hold on your form. If he won't murder someone in rage, then he'll prepare a soothing beverage and wrap you up in a comfortable seating so you may rest your weary head. He’ll have to personally drag you to sit by his lap so you won’t desolate yourself into a depressive fit again. 

“Wasting your breath and energy on crying is a futile endeavor. You'll only tire your body out… so rest in my arms before your mind starts weaving more puny sentiments.” 

✧ The ever-prideful and strict Scaramouche would find himself faltering into silence when the unfamiliar sound emanates from your being. The hiccupped sounds of choked cries are not foreign to him - he recognized them very well and was personally acquainted with the physical pain of crying. But seeing the closest being, the one he calls most cherished, to unexplainable weep was a new form of pain he had never experienced. 

“... Are you-? What's wrong, are you hurt? Did something-!”

An expression of shock and fear bestows the Balladeer, his hands are reluctant and afraid to cross your boundaries when you cry in front of him. His first instinct is to believe that he has erred, that he has hurt you or spoken insensitively. Anguished, his fist tightens, dreading your stern rejection. Yet, all it takes is a gentle shake of your head and a soft reassurance - no, he hasn't actually done anything wrong.

His brow will remain furrowed, and only under your permission, he would glue himself to you in a reassuring embrace. It's only after he's assured of your safety and well-being that the Harbinger begins to ease up and scoff. Maybe, just maybe, he will go and bring your favorite sweets afterward. Regardless, his hands kept cupping your face, thumbs gently wiping your tears.

“Ha, you’re that sensitive that you’d weep at the most minor inconvenience? Fine, I’ll stay here. But don’t get too comfortable. And you better stop apologizing for crying. You should never say sorry for something like that. It’s in your right to cry… Just come to me when something’s troubling you, alright?”

✧ You cannot recall a single instance when Pantalone's captivating smile ever wavered. The man has perfected his charismatic, million-mora smile that only you can discern if he’s being genuine or not. But to witness it dropping completely in a cold stare while you cried was chilling. You felt scared, as the Harbinger grew eerily silent with each slow step, he demanded:

“... Give me names and I will make sure they will disappear permanently.”

You jolted. This was bad, and it sure didn’t quell your sobbing as you hurriedly shook your head. Pantalone took a deep sigh, his brain forced to flip a switch and change to a more tender tone so he wouldn’t scare you further with his sinister rage. He will deal with the causes later. What mattered now was your shaken state. Hence, like the dotting lover he is, he softly inquired whether you wish to talk or have some privacy. 

If you willingly welcomed his physical touch, then prepare yourself for a day filled with him enfolding you tightly. He will draw you near, letting you cry your frustrations out until you get fatigued and rest against his lean chest. The Regrator always fulfills his pledges, gently rocking you back and forth. He will vow to spoil you on the next shopping spree and purchase everything you desire - luxuries, clothes, perfumes, or fancy meals, all of it is yours with a snap of his fingers (even if you reprimand his indulgence). His embraces are tenacious, endless kisses raining down on your face until you plead and whine to be released from his insistent hugs.

"My heart, how can I possibly release you when you should be adorned with kisses instead of tears? I am afraid I won’t be so easily reassured until I see your smile again."

✧ Tartaglia’s highlight of the day is mirroring your luminous smile; hence when he first heard your sorrowful sniffles, it felt like a sudden dark cloud washed past him, pouring cold water to wipe his smile off in an instant. Without hesitation, his hand found itself on your shoulder as he guided you to sit first.

“Hey, hey… What’s wrong, darling? I’m here, it’s alright.”

He observes your attempt to explain the root of your troubles, but as you try to elaborate, your tears only intensify against your own will. Kneeling in front of you, his gaze was resolute - he now had a mission. He will immediately soothe your mood with tender words of endearment, lighthearted banter, and the occasional joke here and there, anything to make you crack up with that sweet smile he so adores.

Tartaglia will remind you that first and foremost, he is your Ajax - the one who will bring laughter through his playful teasing and delightful humor during your times of melancholy. The one who will cook you the best Snezhnayan Bliny better than any pancake restaurant. And the one who will always be there so you can lean your head on his shoulder and just feel his heartbeat as he embraces you deeply. In any other circumstances, he is the 11th of the Fatui Harbinger who will work and bloody his fists for your safety. However, for now, you shouldn’t occupy your thoughts with such concerns.

“Hey, it’s alright… You don’t have to feel embarrassed for crying. We all have bad days from time to time. How about this, leave today’s dinner on me. I shall cook your favorite even better than you could imagine! Or else what sort of boyfriend would I be if I’m not spoiling my darling.” 

[deadsnakey]

𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔? 𝐖𝐄'𝐑𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔!

𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐘!𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐎 𝐱 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐱 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐎𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐄

—> Mattheo Riddle and Theodore Nott love to bother you, it's so obvious they hate you. Do they really, though?

Check out the request here!

—> Enemies to lovers, kind of... Fluff, a little angst possibly and two idiotic boyfriends who think bothering you very clearly means they like you.

★ Ok, this might be a little messy but just stay with me here.

★ since first year, mattheo thought you were so pretty and just adorable. though, he always kept his distance as much as possible.

★ it wasn't untill around third year that mattheo and Theodore started getting really close, eventually dating in 5th year.

★ but there was still a huge problem, you.

★ they both knew they liked you, they've talked about it voguely a few times and since then they've had to an understanding that you belong to them and no one else...even if you didn't know it yet.

★ unfortunately for you, they only knew one way to flirt; teasing and bothering you.

★ its not too long until you start trying to avoid them as much as possible, knowing you'll be teased relentlessly or the butt of their joke that you never found funny.

★ they always called you names like princess, sweetheart, doll or darling. nicknames in Italian from Theo that you didn't really understand.

★ Stealing your pencils, notebooks, homework or even your wand just to get your attention. They'd dangle it where you couldn't reach. Anything for your attention.

you were going to your last period of the day, hoping you'd be able to make it through without seeing them, the two boys. you've been lucky enough to go the whole day without seeing them but you still technically had two more hours before you'd be safe in your dorm for the night.

you've made it to class, and successfully made it through. walking through the halls, listening to music. your huffy puffy friend ended up stopping you for a few minutes to ask about the material you both were learning at the moment in potions.

once done, you quickly started walking again, about to press play on your music again when you feel someone lightly tap your shoulder. you sigh to yourself, hoping it wasn't the two boys whom you've been dreading of seeing; let alone talking to.

"hey, princess. where you've been lately? hm? avoiding us, weren't you?" mattheo taunted, a smirk stretched on the side of his lips.

you slowly blinked, in disbelief. "why? miss taunting your toy? can you guys just leave me alone? I've done nothing to you." they both huffed, "toy? is that how you really see it? you know it's quite saddening you'd think of us in such a way, darling." mattheo put his arm on theodore's shoulder, slighting leaning on it.

"yeah, okay." you harshly spat out, turning on your heel to get away from them. Theodore was quicker. he gently but firmly grabbed your arm and pulled you into his chest making you stumble; your back now touching his clothed chest. you were quickly intoxicated with the smell of faint cigarettes and cinnamon.

"what? got nothing to say now, tesoro?", "don't call me that. and let me go!" you struggled. "someone's feisty, eh? c'mon, lets go to my dorm. I think we need to have a little chat with you." mattheo said, gently putting his hand on the top of your head in a genuine gesture as Theodore started walking, mattheo in front as he led the way and Theodore making sure you're not trying to escape from behind you.

★ safe to say, you were scared.

★ but they really did just want to talk to you. they confessed their feelings for you although you were confused. they hated you.

★ they explained that they didn't hate you, they were head over heels for you if anything. they just...had a really bad way of showing it, hence the constant and brutal teasing.

★ you were shocked. but you told them that they needed to give you some time, you told them as long as they toned it down and stopped being so cruel with their teasing and jokes and actually got to now them, you'd consider dating them.

★ They finally got your attention and they loved it.

★ after 4 awful months of torture from these two, it payed off.

★ fast forward to the end of sixth year, you developed feelings from them both and heavily overtime. that's when you told them that you had came to falling for them and would love to date them both; now that you felt ready.

★ they were soooo happy, definitely lots of affection from these two the rest of the day and night.

[bitchimasnake-sss]

Sleep nonnie again. Is it okay if I go by 🦊🌲 its easier.

Anyways I think it would be a funny scenario if you suggest to the op boys to keep their hands warm by putting them between your thighs. I know some boys would just get a heart attack if you suggest that and get a cute blush

say whAT NOW?? NONNIE HELLO AND WELCOME BACK!! (dm me so that we can be friends ur fic ideas are so out of pocket i love it); also, gonna add ace cause i see many ace thirsties out there ;)

let me warm you up ft. the monster trio//ace!

luffy:

💗when he agreed to this, he didn't know just what kind of uncharted territory he was entering. he was simply not prepared. you had given him such a soft smile, taking his hands into yours as gingerly, "luff, are you cold?" he had nodded a mindless yes because you were crossing a terribly cold patch of the sea and his hands were freezing. but then held his hand a bit tighter and whispered, "i can warm them up for you. if you like?" he was too drunk on the idea to see the mischievous glint in your eyes and the way you spurred him on with your honey-like voice.

💗so now, he sat in front of you, eyes blown wide and lips trembling as his hands rested between your plush thighs. you had squeezed your thighs shut around his restless hands, claiming that it'll get him warm in little to no time. but god, this was hard (much like something else) and he was trying his best to keep his fingers still and not do anything hasty, like digging it into your soft flesh and relishing in the way your body molded to his touches. or by trailing his hand a bit upwards and seeing the way you react. 💗"luffy??" you called out and captain shook his head as he crawled out of that daze like state, "y-yeah?" "you okay?" you mumbled, voice far too gentle. you fucking minx. "you seem like you're losing your mind." good catch! because he was. luffy abruptly pulled his hands backwards lest he do something that truly made him lose his sanity. he scrambled off of your bed, heading out the door into the chilly deck in long, skitterish steps. "where ya going?" you called after him but he rushed out, yelling after himself, "JUST GONNA WARM UP WITH USSOP INSTEAD BYE" did ussop have better thighs than you? you may never know.

zoro:

💚zoro was very stupid, very. he was not the smartest tool in the shed when it came to love or crushes or dating or cooking food or social cues or emotional intelligence or— i should stop before this turns into zoro slander [i promise i love him]. but now, the bounty hunter sat with his face flushed and hands tucked between your soft, malleable thighs. he was smarter than this, truly. he knew that when you suggested that he looked cold and you can warm him up, he was supposed to say "fuck no, get out." because having a crush on you was embarrassing enough on it's own. but you had given him such a gut-wrenching, pleading look. your eyes saddened and your lips fell into a pout and oh god, what was he, if not the man who would let you ruin him? 💚ever since he was a child, zoro had always known that he would die a noble swordman's death. he would die fighting, brave, courageous, unafraid. now, he was sure he'd die from the way you squirmed and pressed your thighs shut. "quit movin'" he grunted, looking away from you as your stared at him. but you tucked your arms against your chest and the soft swell of your tits fell forward towards him so deliciously. he must have lost focus and let his gaze travel against your body cause you coughed, drawing his attention back to your face, "quit starin'." he pulled his hands back, ears going red and heart faltering. he should really stop before he gave into the temptations and pinned you to the mattress to— his voice pitched up, "i-i'm going back to my room, bye." "zoro?!" you called after the swordsman as he ran out, "BUT THIS IS YOUR ROOM, WHERE ARE YOU GOING??" [spoiler: he went to chopper and crushed herbs to make medicine. he wanted to get rid of some of that tension but he failed. because he put the pressure too hard and the china dish in which he was crushing the leafy herbs broke, and now chopper was hitting him square in his head, talking about how important it was to be precise in medicine and how zoro will never make a good doctor. "stop hitting me— OW" "what KIND OF A DOCTOR ARE YOU?" "IM A SWORDSMAN!" "YEAH CAUSE YOU CANNOT BE A DOCTOR!"]

sanji:

💙breath in, breathe out. breathe in, breathe out. breath in, breath out— "sanji?" you asked, a tinge of worry at his almost fainting figure, "are you okay?!" "my love, darling, sugar pie—" the man caught his tongue between his teeth, trying to stop his head from spinning. the floor seem to sway under him, the lights seemed too bright. was he flying or was it the blood rush?? "what did you just ask me?" you look down at the kitchen floor, mumbling with a bashful smile, "if your hands are cold...i can warm them up." his heart quickened as did his fingers. he chopped the bell pepper so hastily that you were sure you saw sparks flying. "and how would you do that?" "you can keep them between my thighs, if you like?" you looked up, "OH MY GOD SANJI YOUR NOSE—" 💙i hate to cut the story short but sanji 100% fainted and you had to catch him before he fell face-forward into the pot with boiling water on the stove. sorry, he gets no bitches :( but you did look after him on the bedside and let him eventually touch your thighs so... idk, a win is a win!!! ["so, is he like dead?" zoro had asked, uninterested, as you hauled the cook's figure outside the kitchen. you were dragging him to his room as the rest of the crew trailed you. they had heard your shriek and came spilling into the kitchen to see what the fuss was about. "did you give him a hug?" nami asked, amused. "hug's too much." ussop snickered, "she probably smiled at him." sanji whipped his head dangerously to glare at them, "i can hear you. and i will be poisoning your food." he looked back at you, "oh don't you worry, im still fainted." he closed his eyes, letting his forehead fall on your shoulder. you smiled to yourself, making a note to warm him up later]

ace:

🧡truthfully, how do you ask a man made of literal fire if you can "warm him up"??? you must have not thought you plan through because you had stood in his room a bit tipsy, locked the door behind you and asked a boy [who was always shirtless cause he was so warm] that question. "huh?" ace's eyes widened in pleasant surprise. he stood up to walk towards you, "what is that about? you wanna warm me up?" "NO!" you bit your cheek when you realized the implications of your words, "i was joking, obviously." "awh, i do love when you humor me." he quipped, "it's kinda cute." "shut up." you glared at him but he gave you an earnest smile back, "if you're cold, you could have just told me." he set his finger ablaze, acting suave, "see, i can warm you up." "you wanna set me on fire?" you seethed. "no?!" "why did you light your fingers on fire?!" "YOU ASKED A MAN MADE OF FIRE IF YOU CAN WARM HIM UP? DONT ASK ME QUESTIONS?!" "i'm drunk" you mumbled. after a beat you looked down at the floor, "and... i'm kinda cold." portagas d. ace just smiled, shrugging in mock nonchalance, "we can cuddle, if you like. i've been told i'm a pretty great heater." you laughed, "hah, hotshot." ace gave you a wicked grin, "how drunk are you?" "not nearly enough." just saying, portagas d ace was better than just a "pretty great heater." he was a pretty great fu-

a/n: i love writing stupid things so much. it makes me so happy because i'm a stupid little girl giggling and typing on her laptop when she should be doing work. tagging the ever lovelies: @bokutosbiceps (resident luffy enjoyer) and @help-i-lost-my-sock (resident ace enjoyer). if you wanna be added to the tag list, please let me know (//tell me your preferences and i'd tag you in those fics)!

[dollarbils]

nothing like your tattoos | b.eilish

billie eilish x fem!reader

context. when you spend the night together, billie never fails to leave in a hurry.

warnings. angst, kind of suggestive, little bit of fluff (this is SO dramatic i’m sorry 🤧) not proof read

masterlist

her skin was sweaty as you traced her tattoos, baby hairs sticking to her forehead, and her chest beating up and down, to the softening rhythm of her breath, reminding you of previous events.

“okay, i gotta go baby, that alright?” even though she spoke as if it was, it wasn’t a question. but regardless, she made no attempt to move, no effort to escape your grasp.

“what do you think about me?” she raised her eyebrows, clearly confused.

“what do you mean?” riddled with your words, she awaited clarification. but when you didn’t speak, she grew worried.

“baby? what’s wrong?” her genuine concern never failed to fool you, trick you into believing her words of comfort. but the result was always the same. her absence.

“what am i to you?” she clearly didn’t like the sound of that question. unsure of its proper answer and naturally, of a response that would satisfy you.

“why would you ask me that?” disappointment spread across your features, unmistakably.

“you’re nothing like your tattoos.” she seemed amused now, puzzled by your misleading words.

“what do you mean?” she turned to look at you, careful not to move her hand as you traced the fairies that littered it.

“there’s nothing permanent about you.” her expression faded, a sense of sadness taking place instead.

“hey,” she caressed your face before speaking, demanding your attention, “i’ll stay, if you want me to.” and you knew it was honest. she would, she’d do it for you, but never of her own accord.

“that’s not what i want.” you sat up, and out of her grasp as she followed.

“then what do you want?” the question was too complicated for a simple response.

“i want you to want me.” her breath hitched slightly, almost faint enough to miss.

“i do want you.” she brought her hand to your face in attempt to comfort you. but her words were empty, meaningless. because she was never clear about her true feelings behind them.

“no you don’t, not really. i’m just a good fuck to you.” you said it like you were disgusted, disappointed in yourself for letting it get this far.

“good? don’t underestimate yourself babe, you’re a whole lot more than good.” a hint of humour could be found in her tone but it wasn’t amusing. not to you, not under the circumstances.

“billie, that’s not the point.” your saddened expression gave her the hint that the humour was misplaced.

“sorry, i just- i guess i just don’t know what you want from me.” she was lying through her teeth, fully aware of what you desired.

“oh please! you know exactly what i’m talking about.” she looked away for a second, taking a moment to think.

“i’m just not one for relationships. it’s too much for me.” she rubbed your cheek with her thumb, sending a river of mixed signals and emotions.

“well this,” you gestured between the two of you, “it’s too little for me. i can’t do this with you anymore.” you made a move to get up, shifting away from her, but she pulled you back by the arm.

“wait, no. i can’t lose you.” she seemed surprised by her own words, as if it was more of a reflex rather than a conscious expression of her feelings.

“that’s tough then, billie. because you’re not even willing to try.” when she didn’t say anything, nothing to confirm nor deny, you grew frustrated.

“whatever bils, I’m sorry i can’t keep this up. but it just hurts too much.” her eyes were teary when you turned away from her, your own tears now spilling down your face.

“i can’t promise permanence but i can promise you i’ll try.” she said it all at once, a desperate plea. you almost didn’t catch her words.

“what?” you turned around to look at her. her eyes were big, her lips plump. it was so hard not to fall in love with her.

“i just want to be with you. i don’t care how, i just need you in my life.” she chewed on her lip, a physical expression of her stomach churning out of anticipation.

“really?” your emotions neared disbelief. not quite sure if anything was real.

“yeah. please let me stay. i want to stay.” you nodded and she kissed you like you were hers. she kissed you like she wanted the feeling tattooed on to her lips forever.

taglist @adinda-eilish @ijustlovemaths @sweetcherriexs @jaxon-nathaniel-drake @mybluebossanova @diceroll65 @tothediner @st0nerlesb0 @bilssturns

[yuvany]

౨ৎ PLEASE DON'T CRY

What do they do when you feel overwhelmed with emotion? ;;;

pairing : enhypen hyung line x fmr ;; w.c : ~ 100/character ;; warning(s) : minor angst + fluff/comfort + not proofread!

𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍���� does his best. He asks if you need something, and he asks how he can help. He feels just as upset as you just by looking at your saddened state. Heeseung sees you curled up on the couch, hugging your knees close as you sniff and weep in silence. Heeseung approaches you slowly with caution in his steps, his hand snakes its way around your shoulders, causing you to look up at him. He doesn't ask what caused you to be so sad, so he sits with you in silence until you're ready to tell him what happened while running his fingers along your back to comfort you. "It's alright, princess. Cry it out." He whispers, pulling you onto his lap.

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐉𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐆 frowns, knowing something, or someone had made you sad. He approaches your quivering state with a calm exterior, seating himself beside you. His warmer palm heats your spine, spreading a comforting feeling through your chest. You halt for a moment to look up at him, being met with his kind eyes causes you to burst in tears once more. He immediately hugs you close to his chest while muttering just the right words for you to ease the tension. "Do you mind telling me what happened, lovely?"

𝐒𝐈𝐌 𝐉𝐀𝐄𝐘𝐔𝐍 panics, immediately rushing over to you. He sprouts questions left and right, "do you want water?" "What happened? Why are you crying?" Poor guy is stressed, but calms down sooner or later. Brings you paper tissues and a glass of water without you having you request it. Wipes your tears with his thumb gliding along your cheekbones, and presses a soft kiss to your forehead, hoping for your mood to enlighten. Be ready for a cuddle session after.

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐍 is shocked when he hears your cries. He is unsure what to do, but he does what he can. Sunghoon awkwardly scoots closer to you after entering your room when he heard soft sobs. "Babe, what happened?" His voice is gentle when he speaks, his eyes holding nothing but gentleness. You choke out a response, and he is quick to embrace you in a soothing hug, letting your tears stain his shoulder, but he doesn't mind, his priority right now is for you to be comfortable. He feels your breathing stabilise, and the room become silent when your cries come to a halt. "Feeling better, hun?"

Reblogs are much appreciated ! No spam liking as it shadow bans me,

Layout credits to @flwrstqr

[aklaustaleteller]

hey can you do one where the reader kind off changed klaus for the better he quit most of the killing shit a ultimately became a better person over all, and the news was all over that klaus mikealson had gone soft, so one of his (many) enemies decides to kidnap or hurt the reader as they think he had gone soft and he goes all hybrid on everyone to remind them of what he is capable off

Vontade

Y/n and Klaus had settled in the English Countryside, living in an isolated mansion that was settled under thick mist on most days. But what happens when Klaus leaves for a little, and things take a sinister turn for Y/n?

Warnings - I'm not joking when I say I have a list (right here). I'm begging on you on my knees -- please read the list before diving into the fic!!

Word Count - 10.2k (don't ask me about it)

Masterlist | please reblog the fic if you like it!

EVERYONE CALM DOWN THE OCTOBER FIC IS FINALLY HERE!!! Wait let me calm down first. It's been so very long but I hope you guys will find the wait worth it!! This is the longest fic I've ever written, and probably the darkest too! The amount of research that went into this is mind boggling but anyways, I really really really hope you enjoy your time reading!! (the fic is divided into 2 parts, both of which are in this post itself!)

Thank you, anon, for requesting this and waiting so long! I might've taken a completely different route than what you asked for but I hope you won't mind too much <3

And I'm so sorry if I raised anyone's expectations too much!! If there one thing you should know about me, it's that I'm a disappointment. So expect the worst, thank you!

And please, please, please share your thoughts with me -- give feedback and reblog! It'll genuinely increase my life span ajshfjjakgds. (If you hate this fic, don't tell me I'm faint hearted, okay? okay.)

Holding the curtains to the side, Klaus gazed out of the window, the ghosts of the past not so visible anymore in the heavy mist that sat upon the empty acres of land that held nothing but dead grass as well as the dead, gone and buried.

It was so early in the morning that it felt like early winter, and the moon was still visible, looking so soft that its sight took all the weight of grief off the watcher's heart.

The collar of his cotton shirt ruffled as a gust of wind passed him by and touched the cold skin of his wife who lay in bed, gazing at him with the tired eyes that didn't catch a blink of sleep in the centuries that they have shown her the terrors and the romanticised of the world.

He smiled, already turning to walk over to her side of the bed. He knelt on the hardwood floor, ignoring it's creaking as he leaned in to press a kiss to her ear lobe, one that chased her mouth.

More of the wind rushed inside the room but neither of them paid much mind to it, for the cold didn't bother them much. Y/n kissed him back, giggling because it seemed that his mouth was eager to wander to places that might be more sinful than the true existence of their kind.

"When do you have to leave?" Y/n asked, breathless as Klaus intertwined his fingers with hers, and saddened because of the inevitable.

"In a few hours," Klaus suggested as he raised the skirt of her night gown while he himself slipped lower and lower until Y/n had to raise the sheets with her hand to look into his eyes as he bit into her thigh close enough to her heat to make her eyes to roll into the back of her skull.

Her palm traced the valleys of his face, feeling the highs and the lows to keep herself from transcending somewhere else while his mouth traced and lapped at her sweetness that was mentioned instead as poison in one of the books that she'd read in some of her earlier days.

"Klaus," she heaved his name as he quickened his pace, his eyes boring into hers, putting on a veil of innocence that they had lost even before they'd been first witness to the world.

Y/n believed that she'd lost her innocence the moment her mother had died while giving birth to her.

Air escaped her lungs all at once as she felt herself release and her hands clutched the unruly curls on the top of Klaus' head. Her hips lifted off the bed, meeting and escaping his mouth at the same time while a certain kind of dizziness took over her, making her feel like a leaf drifting slowly and slowly, off the tree, towards the earth.

Her mouth instinctively kissed back his lips, and she turned the two of them, so she was sitting on top of him. A grin took over her mouth, her eyes crinkling on the corners as she kissed up his chest and wandered off with her trail sideways.

Y/n inhaled softly and deeply upon his neck, sinking her cunning teeth into his hardened skin until she felt some warmth gush into her mouth. His blood coated her tongue like a thick syrup, sweet and addictive.

She sucked and more of it came flowing. In fact, so much of it came that she felt some slipping down the corners of her mouth. So, she backed away, licking the edges of her mouth with her head thrown back, letting the air fill her lungs and kick back in her senses.

The soft caress of Klaus' hand on the back of her head made her look down again, at his face that had her saying she knew what an angel looks like.

The black oblivion in his eyes that promised her a soulmate to spend the rest of eternity with sucked her in. Soon she was turning into corner after corner in a labyrinth, beginning to race in the fear that she was being chased until she found herself leaning against a wall while Klaus pulled on the laces of her corset, pulling hard enough to make Y/n suspicious that he just intended to pull her into him.

She looked into the mirror and caught a glimpse of his smirk, squinting at him when he met her gaze in their reflection.

"I really wish you could accompany me on the ride to the masquerade," she whispered, closing her eyes when she felt his fingers tap their way to the clasp of her necklace and lock it properly.

"I am your escort at the ball, love," he sighed, kissing the back of her head. "Have trust in me, you'll be fine," he murmured against her hair, smelling the faint scent of white Lilies and apples.

Far from the smell of the decaying bodies that he'd have to pass on his way to the city of New Orleans in a short while, though.

Y/n shut her eyes, wanting to protest that nothing when she's left behind, all on her own, stays fine. Instead, she gave a tight nod and turned to cup his face in her palms.

"Miss me," she grinned against the deep maroon of his lips, her laugh echoing when he kissed her passionately. And then she sighed, feeling the silage, her hand tracing the impression made in space where Klaus was once standing; now gone.

Sighing, she trailed down the stairs noiselessly -- it was an art she'd perfected during her time in the isolated estate.

She lit a lantern because despite it being daytime, not even a ray of light fell to the dead ground through the heavy fog that seemed to have settled on their property overnight.

Y/n shook her head, forcing herself to get out of her head and to fix the ragged rhythm of her breathing. While at that, she noticed a cobweb in the corner of the ceiling, instantly making a mental note to get Klaus to clean it up. She'd never felt an attachment to the spiders, though she respected their talent of weaving so masterfully and passionately.

Not enough to not ruin their work, though.

With faintly trembling hands, she picked the lantern off the dining table that could host an entire committee. She turned to walk back over to the main door, eyes settled on the minute details carved into the mansion's main door frame.

Forgetting the keys on the hook screwed to the wall, she looked closely, like she did every single day in the hopes of finding something new. Something tugged at the corner of her mouth when she caught a rose with a dagger stabbed through its middle, designed intricately into the door’s handle.

Smiling in satisfaction, she backed away and – the keys were gone. Y/n had seen them hung on the corner-most hook out the five, but now all of them were empty.

"The house spirits don't want you to leave," whispered her grandmother.

Y/n's head snapped to her side, the door was closed, the air still.

"Leave out some honey for them, perhaps, you can negotiate," she chuckled dryly, and Y/n scrambled to do as told before something more precious was taken from her; even though her grandmother has been dead for centuries and only talks to her when she's alone.

Almost dropping the plate in her hurry, Y/n slid the honey filled utensil in the middle of the table before rushing out of the door.

She exhaled sharply, almost choking on her own saliva as she raced away from the mansion, unable to calm herself down as the image of the keys hung on the hook right before she shut the door with her eyes widened in fear, flashed across her mind.

Klaus had only been away for a half an hour and already things were beginning to take a sinister turn. She took a shuddering breath, forcing her mind to focus on Klaus so that the stone inside her chest doesn't burst into a million tiny shards and she ends up dead because of a thousand cuts.

She brought up the lantern to her eyesight and sighed -- the flame had gone out somewhere amidst her rush.

But she had been in the woods before, she knew her way like the patterns in Klaus' hair. Smiling to manipulate herself, she strolled forward, eyes settled on the trees.

The acres of land on which the mansion stood like a ship on ocean waves, was tucked away under the thick fog when Y/n turned around to see it. But even in the dark blurriness, Y/n saw the tiny flowers dotted throughout the open fields. They were going to die soon, she sighed and walked on.

Then she began to run to catch a leaf that the wind plucked off of a tree.

Some dead, some changing colours, some still green while others had already transitioned into shades of orange or brown. All of the trees would all be lifeless soon, with no leaves or flowers on them, and Y/n will once again find comfort in the death that will encapsulate everything around her.

Maybe eat some of the pomegranates off the trees that will still be bearing some happiness in order to taunt her existence.

Far away in the distant, Y/n could see more huge estates. They seemed abandoned, worn, lived in by ghouls and frustrated spirits. She wondered if sprites and pixies ever giggled away nights in the unkempt properties, but she stole her gaze from the architectures before they could lure her in.

To spend her time alone feeling as normal as she could, she began to think of the love of her life, of Klaus and of how they came to be. And it began something like this...

It was the year 1047 in Russia, and the colour in Y/n's face had settled so deep that there was no life left in her skin.

She traced her cheeks, eyes widely aghast as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. There was nothing under her skin, except for an unsettling silence. There was no rush of blood, or thrumming of her anxious heart so loud in her ears that she felt like she was going to die, instead of smiling at the reminder that she was still alive.

She wished now though, that she had celebrated when her heartbeats came to stutters because she couldn't breathe. Because now, as she tried to find a pulse, she slipped her hand from her neck to the skirts of her gown.

There was nothing in her to prove that she wasn't a living corpse. Her skin was cold, hardened and ridden of all colours.

This couldn't have been. She wasn't a human anymore, and the more she saw of herself, the more rumours about Vampires echoed in her mind. If she was a vampire, then she quickly needed to find another one to survive. And she needed to flee town in order to escape her father, who would probably not even realise her absence in the misery of remembering her late mother.

So, with erratic breathing, she'd rushed back to her room and pulled out the one big handbag she had. She threw in as much as she could, including a large shawl, her night clothes, her warm woollen as well as her silk hood. She rolled two of her dresses somehow to fit, and ran to steal a bottle of her father's brandy and some camphor. He wouldn't know until he would run out of his current bottle, and Y/n won't be there to blame or to conspire with then.

Chanting under her breath for God's mercy, she ran into her bathroom and gathered all of her essentials such as tooth and nail brushes, soap, hairbrush, hairpins, her handy mirror and a towel off the hook.

Hungry because of her state of extreme breathlessness and panic, she packed some crackers and the sandwiches she had made earlier in her lunch and closed the chain of the bag. It was going to be hard to run with it on her arm, but she knew that what would be more hard was death.

She was going to be seen as the thing at the feast or at the sacrifice, and then, she wasn't even going to be seen because people would either burn her or bury her alive. And there was a possibility that she could take one wrong step, and the rumour that was a vampire's existence, would become more of a reality – which would lead to mass murder, of the hiding vampires and likely some innocents who had done no wrong in life but suffer at the hands of it.

She ran through the streets in the middle of the day, where everyone was too busy or too ignorant to be concerned about her. Her house was fairly close to the state of Kievan Rus' and she cried tears of joy for God's blessing as she ran, surprisingly not out of breath.

She ran with the wind throughout the day and night, as silently as she could, not wanting to draw any attention until she reached her destination. And it was on the third morning that she finally came to a stop on the land of Kyiv Koenugarr, the capital of the state that stood on the Dnieper River, the one that flowed to the Black Sea.

For the first time in three days, she smiled. Her breaths came to a faint pace as she stopped by in one of the guest houses to clean up. She knew that she needed to look good enough to convince the one person she had hoped in her heart would help her escape.

She didn't need to rest to get even a blink of sleep, but just out of old habit, she lay down on the soft bedding and shut her eyes to stop the racing of her mind. She could think when she wasn't so much on the edge regarding the fact that she didn't even feel burnt out after so much.

The corners of her eyes moistened as she realised that she wouldn't be missed back home. Maybe the little boy who lived next door would be saddened, but he would forget her too. He was too small to remember disappearance, Y/n hoped. She should have said goodbye to him at least, but maybe that was supposed to be her life's regret.

When the sun came back up, Y/n pulled out the one dress she had laid under the mattress during the night in hopes of getting it a bit decent and dressed herself. She put colour on her mouth and on her cheeks, and kohl on her eyelashes while hinting some of it on the line above.

She needed to look good for this, in case she had to do some convincing or begging. She hoped that she could just threaten, but she wouldn't do that to him who she essentially considered her brother.

She rubbed the one herbal mixture that she had on herself in some places and the fragrance of Saffron, Rosemary and Musk hit her senses all at once. Centering herself, she packed her bag again and began her stroll to find a cart, to where she knew he would be.

"I need to go to the docks!" She shouted over the harsh wind at the man, and he urged her to climb into the cart. "Thank you," she said now that she was behind him.

He nodded and began to move forward, going faster with the help of the forceful wind. It didn't seem like the man minded silence too much, so she kept quiet much to her liking and began an inner monologue to decide how she was going to ask him.

The time passed quicker than she could come to a conclusion though, so she stepped off and handed the man a kuna with a gentle nod for a thank you. She hoped she could find a mirror to maybe fix her hair a bit but she was found too soon for that convenience.

"And what in the world are you doing here?"

He asked, a frown and a smile adorning his features at the same time.

Happiness surged through her body like a gust of wind at seeing his face. It felt like he'd almost lifted her spirits.

"Nikolai!"

She rushed over to him, wrapping her arms around him as tightly as she could. She giggled when he began to swerve the two of them from side to side.

"You're clearly here for a reason so how about you tell me before I set off?" He said, nodding his head towards the awaiting ship.

A worry settled deep in her stomach. She began fidgeting.

"Will you take me with you?" She asked in a whisper because she knew how absurd this might sound to him.

He gripped her shoulders a little tighter.

"The ships are full of Vikings, Y/n. Don't be a fool," he gritted, his fingers leaving a wrinkle on the puff of her dress' sleave.

"But you are going to be with me, so I'll be fine!" She insisted.

Nikolai pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head.

Sighing, he began, "why do you want to go to Europe all of a sudden?"

She swallowed. "To start over, you know? And it sounds nice over there, a change would be good," she shrugged.

Y/n knew that he could sense her lying but when he didn't press her about it, she took a breath of relief.

Nikolai turned to walk, but just because of her nature, she gripped his arm from behind.

When he turned with intrigue, and saw worry settled in her big eyes, he hugged her again.

"I'll take care of you like my little sister, Solnishko (sunshine)," he whispered against her hair, and Y/n shut her eyes to force herself calm down. She had known him since her childhood, and she knew deep down that she trusted him more than she trusted her own father.

Backing away a couple steps, she let him take her bag from her hand. Squaring her shoulders, Y/n nodded, which Nikolai copied.

They shared a glint of excitement and nervousness in their gazes and passed each other a wide grin before making a run for the ship that was going to leave any minute now.

Y/n hadn't realised that while deep in her memory, she had come to a halt in front of the frozen lake. So when she heard the crunch of leaves, while she stood alone and completely still, her head whipped to scan her surroundings.

No one, in sight. Y/n knew better than to not trust her intuition so she focused in on all of her senses, there was no smell of blood, no sound of a beating heart, no sight of anyone, no feeling other than of being watched and nothing to touch but her own cold skin.

It had to be a vampire, if anyone.

With an unease, she started on her walk back home. She knew she could face whoever it was and get it over within seconds. But when she reached home unharmed, she felt like she might've just been going insane since she was alone.

She felt insane a lot of the time that she was alone, so with frustration settling deep in her belly, she went over to the room that she had locked the entire oblivion in. The library room.

Most of the books were read there, but when Klaus returned from his entrepreneurial ventures, he always brought back with him some new ones that he just had an instinct she was going to love. And she did mostly end up loving the stories so much that it felt as if they’d claimed a part of her – she'd never tell that to Klaus though, since he might just destroy all literature in the mansion in order to keep her all to himself.

Her eyes glanced at the two stopped clocks in the room and she shook her head because of the reminder that they might as well be haunted since she can't get them to work right for more than two sunsets.

As she sank in the deep green sofa with a worn hardback in her lap, a deep melancholy took over her. Her body felt so weak to the bones that it could've decomposed right there on the expensive furniture.

Suddenly, her grandmother, dressed in all black appeared at the doorway of the room. Y/n thought she had closed the door behind her.

The old woman walked in like she was silently praying on a child in a game to catch her, and stopped right in front of Y/n whose eyes felt hooded and a little too heavy. She took her hand and dropped something from her fist into her open palm.

Y/n brought it back to see for herself, and a gurgling sound escaped from her throat. She choked back on her saliva as the word 'MONSTER' was beginning to slowly be engraved in her palm, the inscription cutting her skin so deep that she fell off the sofa in pain, gripping her hand tightly as she tried to escape, and ended up falling on her bed.

With heavy breaths wreaking havoc inside her lungs, Y/n wiped the cold sweat on her skin on the bed sheets as she turned to lie on Klaus' side of bed. Inhaling deeply, she kept her eyes shut while her entire body shook in tremors and her mind began to show her the flashes of her sweet, well cherished moments spent with her head tucked away in Klaus' chest.

She really wished she could have a drop of his blood, then. Saliva pooled on her tongue, but she swallowed thickly, not allowing herself even the thought of taking a sip from the bottle that he always left behind for her.

—--

It was the 18th century, and Y/n didn't know quite know how to feel when the Pope declared her species as fallacious fictions of humankind. She had sighed deeply, breathing out the tension in her frame as she prepared herself to live a life without chewing her fingers ever again – not because people had potentially known of Vampire's existence, but because she was too paranoid to not fear somehow getting wound up in the theories and be burned on the stake only for her ashes to be fed to some sick family man considered bitten by a vampire.

But she'd also felt her lifeless heart be struck by sadness upon the realisation that she might not ever be accepted by anyone apart from her own species -- who had the foul habit of keeping itself so secretive that Y/n began feeling lonely even in a room full of people.

Then the 19th century rolled around, arguably the worst time period for a human to be alive according to Y/n. She seemed to have a realisation that if this century was going to be associated with one thing, it would be diseases and deaths.

Everyone in the town was always sick and someone was dying each hour. The ones who weren't actively dying, were so obsessed with the notion of death they essentially manifested it in their fate.

Tired of the ongoing death streak, Y/n ran away to the English Countryside. But because she was too lonely and had too much of the torturous time on her hands, she began to despise the fact that she was never going to have the peace that came with death, with the end – ever.

Feeling like she was going to kill herself if she spent another fleeting second in her own company, she found herself back in the main city, preoccupying herself among the aristocrats.

Then years later, the last Vampire Scare occurred in the late 19th century. While people weren't quick to put labels, the town affairs spread in whispers sounding similar to the fluttering wings of a Goldfinch.

But then, when the horrors of Vampires finally bit the dust, being declared as nothing but a myth blew out the one final flicker of hope inside Y/n's chest that longed for connections where the humans would tell her about their history and their folklores themselves instead of her having to read their biassed books in which they painted a portrait using their best colours.

No matter how much she hated being a myth, Y/n loved reading stories about the blood-sucking Roman vampires, and the German Nachzehrer, who harmed the living through "sympathetic magic" from afar.

Y/n loved to debate with Klaus just like humans did with each other, upon who were the English Vampires most like -- The Romanians or The Germans. All because it seemed to be a hot topic among the historians, folklorists, theologists and who not, that like Romanians, New Englanders "were looking for liquid blood in the vital organs, not evidence of shroud chewing." The anti-vampire remedy of "cutting the heart out, burning it to ashes and feeding the ashes to the sick ones" was also something that was practiced in Romania.

But what quite disgusted Y/n was the fact that the sole reason humans even knew of Vampires was because they were brainless and attracted diseases like flowers honey bees during springtime; and also because they feared the said diseases and desired to have control over it in some way, or at least to feel like they did.

Since then, whenever a new resurgence of ‘Vampires are real’ rumours flowed, Y/n chose to ignore it. Because in the current day and age, the resurfacing of the supernatural was simply because of its glorification and romanticisation in the literature; and of course, just an human’s itch to dig into the past.

—--

The music echoed throughout the mansion as Y/n's fingers danced across the keys of the grand piano. There weren't any notes sitting on top for Y/n to read from, she was simply playing what she'd known and what was coming to her as she played.

Moonlight poured in through barred windows that stood on the grounds and touched the ceilings. Something in the back of her mind was telling her that someone was watching her, but she ignored the warning sign, tired of her hallucinations and tired of trying to decipher between what was real and what wasn't.

Her own mind playing tricks on her wasn't something she dealt with very well. It felt like a betrayal, by whom, she couldn't tell. But it was unfair, that not everyone had to constantly decipher their experiences as real or not.

In the moment, all she knew was that as long as the music was flowing and she was hitting the notes remarkably well, she and everything surrounding her was real. Though she'd been told that her playing could bring the dead back, she tried not to think about it.

Frustrated because of the nagging thought of having a watcher, Y/n wondered if the pressing of her fingers on the keys will ever not be soothing for her. Gradually, she felt something rushing within her, something taking over her senses as the sounds hit the tall walls and reverberated back into her ears with violent vibrations that she hated to feel – she felt overcome.

Her fingers started to move on their own, quickening the pace when she reached the beat drop and realised, the answer was yes.

She pulled herself back from the grand piano like it had electrocuted her. Wild eyes and frantic breathing, Y/n waited for the silence to settle and encapsulate her.

Standing up, she took hold of the candelabra that had been sitting on the top of the piano, and climbed up the stairs in the candle's unreliable, flickering light. There was no light in this part of the mansion, the moonlight didn't reach in the back and Y/n felt a breath down her spine as she opened the library room's door.

She didn't walk in right away though. She spared a wry glance to her right, at the other room’s door that was locked. It was night time and she didn't want to be flooded with the horrifying memories of her past that was withheld in that room. But still, the images of Klaus draining bodies in that very room flashed in front of her eyes – causing her to clench them shut and skip inside the library without a second thought.

Picking up the book she'd dropped on the floor earlier, she shut the door quietly and held the skirts of her dress in order to make a run towards the master bedroom. She felt safe in the company of the candle's flame that hadn't gone out in her hurry and she sat in her bed, no longer scared and no longer around; transported into a realm where she was a little human girl skidding through the forest wearing a red cloak, on the way to her grandmother's home when she comes across a sly wolf!

—--

Y/n was standing just outside the door, hiding behind the wall with a cloth to her mouth. Sobs threatened to leave her mouth similarly to how the tears were escaping her eyes, sliding down her cheeks and falling into pools on the ancient flooring.

Sounds of mouths biting into necks, tearing through skin and splintering bones echoed through the chambers. The halls of the mansion were built like those of Cathedrals, tall in order to make a sound boom and echo.

She clenched her eyes shut when another body fell to the ground, lifeless. Daring to peek inside despite her fragile heart, Y/n's mouth fell open as the scene unfolded in front of her.

Klaus was sitting on the one and only chair in the room, looking nothing less than a king sitting on his throne. In front of him, the rest of the hall was full of vampires – sucking on each other.

Some had bitten into another's wrist while they were being fed upon at their neck. Every single soulless body standing in the room had its teeth bared, looking for a life to take whilst theirs was already being drained away by one of their own.

"Faster!" Klaus roared and everyone began to draw blood from one another as if their life depended on it.

Which it did according to what Y/n heard next.

"Remember puppies, if you wish to live, you'll have to drain as many bodies as you can!" He spoke loudly, a wide malicious grin on his mouth.

Y/n sank low upon the grounds, frozen until her eyes met with one of the vampires.

A blood-curdling scream escaped her throat and Y/n felt like all of the blood was rushing to her head. She clutched it, lowering further into the ground in hopes of diminishing the pain but her vision began to fade instead.

She saw Klaus watching her, held for ransom by fate as Y/n fell to the ground, her last sight being of the vampires still feeding like they were at a feast.

When she woke up, Klaus was sitting at the foot of the bed. A book in his hands but not a word was he able to utter when she asked him what the book was about.

He shut it and tossed it across the bed, holding the bridge of his nose as Y/n looked at him through hooded eyes.

"I asked you of one thing," he began. "I asked you not to walk by the room until dusk."

His teeth were clenched, and Y/n could tell by the waver in his voice that he was trying with all of his might to not smash the furniture in the room.

She hoped that he would keep trying, that she wouldn't have to see the black in his eyes represent the devil rather than the peaceful oblivion she saw in them because she wanted to spend it with him.

"Then why, tell me love, were you there?"

"Don't talk to me like I'm a child," Y/n croaked out, stealing her gaze from him to look away.

"But what you did was childish!"

"And you were a monster!" Y/n shouted, now sitting up in the bed with her fists clenching the mattress.

Klaus stood still for a moment, then scoffed.

"I'm the monster?" He asked, his voice so light it sent a wave of regret through Y/n's chest.

"Klaus --"

"No, Y/n," Klaus swallowed, now pacing across the room. "They tried to steal you from me and I'm the one being called the monster for doing to them little of what they deserve for the horror they put you through."

"Klaus, you didn't need to take the blood on your hands. I would've taken my revenge, and you know that," Y/n said.

"Alright then. Fair enough," nodding, Klaus came to a halt. "Let's put it this way – I took my revenge because I love you and I thought I lost you. That thought pained me to the point of no comparison so I took my revenge," he shrugged.

"If you desire, you can take your revenge. I'm sure they are still alive with the speed that they seemed to have lost," Klaus gestured back towards the room.

Y/n clenched her eyes shut. "Lock the room, Klaus," she asked him.

With a faint nod of acceptance, Klaus locked the door to the room where most of the vampires had fallen to the floor, dead. The last ones sucking raced when they saw Klaus and fell to the floor with a thump once the last drop of blood was drunk from their bodies.

Drawing the doors shut, Klaus put a humongous lock on the door and took a step back. He knew what Y/n was going to ask of him when he 'd return, so with a final breath, Klaus decided that among those vampires, Klaus had also locked his own demons inside.

Y/n's head rose when she saw him stroll back into the master bedroom.

"Promise me that you'll never take a life ever again," she whispered.

Klaus nodded, looking into her eyes with honesty so bright it could've blinded her.

"And if you do, do it after you take mine," Y/n spoke stiffly. "Or I'll take yours."

Klaus dropped to his knees beside her side of the bed to hold her hand.

"You have my word," he spoke hoarsely, leaning in just enough that Y/n had to come the rest of the way to meet his mouth.

"I love you," she whispered against his mouth. "I cannot lose you to your demons."

"I love you, too,” Klaus said, stopping when his voice wavered. “And you know that you are my only reason," he smiled, letting her push him back on the bed.

—--

Y/n woke up with excitement fluttering through her entire being. It was brighter than the previous day, she noticed. But all of the mist was still sitting around so Y/n drew her curtains apart and opened the windows.

The cold wind carried with it the smell of pomegranate flowers, making Y/n smile.

Squaring her shoulders, she looked into the void outside, wishing Klaus was beside her to experience the beauty of dragonflies dancing around on top of the flowers sprinkled throughout the fields.

Orange and red scenery was not unmet by her eyes when she squinted. A lot of the trees had turned now, and Y/n wondered why they decided to turn just a little earlier than usual.

She wrapped herself in her robe and walked throughout the house, opening all the windows and drawing curtains to let the light pour in. She felt calm, especially since the past couple of days had been extraordinarily troublesome for her.

Back in her library room, Y/n picked up the neat letter that had been sitting on her desk. It was the letter of the ball invitation sent via the Salvatore Sons, and Y/n was more than giddy to finally meet Klaus there.

Most humble citizens of the realm, You are hereby requested to attend a masquerade ball in honour of the thirtieth marriage anniversary of our dearest Lilian Salvatore and Guiseppe Salvatore, the radiant couple -- also respected members of the founder's council of Mystic Falls. Costumes and masks will be strictly required for entry, and each couple must bring a gift. This sophisticated affair will be a tantalising and stylish celebration with a feast, dancing and competitions. You all will delight in the wondrous, safe atmosphere of Castle Harrowgate. The gates of Castle Harrowgate shall be opened at first dusk in two days' time, and you are expected to be punctual. Dictated but not read Damon and Stefan Salvatore.

While Y/n wasn't one for gatherings, she could appreciate a ball every once in a while. She felt a bit of dread pooling inside of her at the thought of meeting the Salvatores, who had known of her and Klaus while she hadn't known of their mere existence.

Still, she walked across the mansion and picked some flowers the whole morning. In the afternoon, she wrote a poem and read some chapters of her current read that was of her beloved genre, gothic horror.

Once the sun had begun getting tired, though, Y/n slipped into her room and sat in front of her vanity. It still felt a little foreign to her, she wouldn't lie. That doesn't mean she didn't find it infinitely convenient.

She applied rose water on her face first and then rubbed some cream on the skin in order to make her skin look just a little more alive than a corpse's. It brought a certain shine to her face, she thought.

Then she dabbed some light coloured starch on her face in order to even out her complexion, though she didn't quite need to. She was simply following a makeup routine she had learnt from a lady while she had been out in the towns a few months ago, when the sun was overhead and blinding.

She smiled a little tightly as she put some maroon powder on the top of her cheeks, making her look like she had a heart and blood circulation under her skin. Smiling genuinely at her reflection in the mirror, she looked away just before she could begin to point out her flaws.

Lastly, she dabbed some lip tint on her mouth in a way that made her lips look bitten rather than painted.

Tying her own corset for her dress was troublesome enough that she had broken a sweat whilst she'd been at it. Patting cotton all over her face in annoyance, she fixed the ruffles of her dress for the last time.

The colour of the dress was similar to that of the darkest emerald out there, and upon it were drawn complex patterns in all shades of green that went best with the gown's colour.

She had her hair in a low bun sitting on the nape of her neck, the lowest of her hair strands falling out into coils just a couple inches lower. A flowery crown sat on top of her bun like a crown made out of golden oak leaves, the crystals reflecting the sunlight all over the room.

Anxious that she was likely forgetting something, she took hold of her purse and carried in her other hand the gift she had chosen to give – a thick and rich blanket, along with other trinklets and fruits and nuts. She'd also added a tobacco pouch or two in there.

She rushed out of the mansion and sped to the main street, where she accepted herself in a carriage. Once she was sat, she took a deep breath.

Although gradually she realised that the cold sweat she'd broken earlier wasn't because she had been racing around.

It was because subconsciously, she felt like there was a stone sitting inside her chest, one other than her heart. It was heavy, and sharp too. Something was going to go wrong, her guts screamed. She had an instinct that she was going to die that evening, but she ignored all and focused on the dying scenery around her as the carriage raced further.

It was a masquerade ball, surely she'd be able to fool death if it happened to be there as well. 

When the carriage turned into a lane, and Y/n saw the mansion; a shiver ran down her spine. It was eerily quiet there, no one in sight and no sounds of a gathering filling the atmosphere.

The castle’s walls stood tall, with tinted windows. It looked like a secretive fortress, with its additional dark towers and iron gates.The sun light didn’t reach the estate very well, and it was all shades of dark – with not even a barren tree in its circumference. 

Had she come too early, she wondered and checked her pocket watch. She was just a few minutes late, actually. Maybe people weren't so punctual anymore, she shouted back at her alarmed instincts.

She looked up at the sky which was darkening as the sun was setting. But it was full of heavy clouds drifting slowly, waiting for the right time to bring hell on land.

In the time that she came face to face with the castle, she tried to focus on her hearing. But she couldn't hear any heartbeats, nor any quietened gossip floating around. It was more silent than Y/n had noticed it was underwater during the summer.

Clutching her shawl in clenched fists, she stepped off the carriage. Handing the man a couple pennies and thanking him, she waited as he backed away until out of the sight.

Then she finally turned her gaze onto the Castle Harrowgate, and as she began to feel like it was all a trap, she realised that might as well already be in one.

Klaus had told her that he would meet her by the time the ball would start, to accompany her for the dance since he couldn't imagine sharing with another man the pleasure of dancing with his wife. And upon checking the watch once again, Y/n remembered that the gates must have been opened about half an hour ago.

So, to see no footprints outside the muddy path covered with cobblestones stood out to her. She squinted her eyes, unsure if she'd be able to make a run for it now.

Y/n was better than that though, she could fight an army of vampires if she wanted to with her original strength. But to be wearing a gown and heels, with a gift bag in one hand and a purse in the other, Y/n wasn't sure if she wanted to get blood sprayed all over herself.

Sensing eyes on her, she searched the windows to see even a shadow. But there was none. It was the same feeling as the one she'd gotten when she'd been in the forest a couple days prior, feeling like she was being preyed upon.

She gulped dryly, praying to a god she didn't believe existed that the cowards behind this plan would be willing to talk this through. She didn't wish to be anyone's death, nor did she wish to die herself. She did, occasionally, but now as she felt like death was breathing down her neck, she felt like taking another sip of life before going to bed.

As she walked further and crossed the threshold of the castle, she felt wind move behind her before she could've seen past the open gates.

She screamed but a hand was covering her mouth and as she tried to remind herself that she was a vampire and didn't need to be frightened, her vision began to fade inwards until she could see nothing but the death's cousin – that is sleep.

When she gained back her senses again, she knew that she was in a lot of trouble. She still couldn't see, but she could smell the vampires who had probably noticed her consciousness by now. She could hear them bickering that had come to a sudden halt. She could feel someone standing right beside her in a second and she could touch the chains that she'd been tied up with.

It was raining heavily outside, probably so angrily that it would feel like there were millions of needles being dropped on your skin, all at once, if one happened to be out in it. 

Her arms were stinging since they'd been tied up on the two sides. She was on her knees, bent over because of weakness. At least she hoped that's what they thought she felt. Her hair was falling on her face and over her shoulder – how had it slipped out of a tight bun, she wondered and came to the conclusion that it must have happened when she'd struggled against the man's chest while he'd had her in a chokehold with vervain held right over her nose.

Had she been in his place, she'd have burned the skin off the captive's face. She smiled at the kindness these people had shown her.

"Glad you'll finally be put out of the misery of living your immortal life?" Someone spoke from across the room, a man. Likely middle aged, she assumed.

"Glad to finally meet you, Guiseppe," Y/n smirked when the man's breathing stuttered just a bit. "Though I wish it hadn't been this way."

"A lovely mouth you've got with a lovely face," said a younger voice. "Too bad that all the fortune would go to waste."

Y/n chuckled, then choked because of the dryness in her throat. "Mark my words when I say that this will be the very mouth that'll rip your throat out, Salvatore" she shrugged, unsure whether it was Stefan or Damon that she was talking to.

"C'mon, you can't possibly be delusional enough to hope you're going to get out of this one!" Said the same voice, quietened by a clearing of the throat.

The window shutters were rattling, and a couple of animals were howling outside. 

"Damon, bring a chair for me, will you?" Said Guiseppe.

Y/n laughed at that; her head was thrown back. "Since when do you care so much that your child might witness a murder?"

"Oh, trust me hon, death doesn't even bother me no more," Damon joked and Y/n grinned. It would be a petty to shut that humourous mouth forever six feet deep into the ground.

"Damon, go," said a handsome voice.

It was silent for a moment and all of Y/n's senses were working relentlessly. But the most she could hear was the ongoing storm outside, thunder rolling like death was on its own carriage, coming down to take Y/n with it.

The thought of whether she had served her purpose in her life was fleeting. But then she began to ponder, if only humans were allowed to deal with existentialism, and whether it was satirical for her to even be thinking that she might just have a meaning to her life.

But then she drifted off to think of her immortality. All her life, she'd never dared to ponder over it – afraid she might begin to have the urge to kill herself. Had she made anything out of having a life that'd never end?

Did she need to do that? Did she really need a reason or a purpose to live? Or since being an immortal, she had to pay the loan by giving this world her all?

But before she could start to lose her mind, she was snapped back to reality.

“I only saw you from the back, in the forest and from outside your mansion,” said the same handsome voice before he chuckled. Y/n’s breathing came to halt – she had been right.

“But sweetheart, you seem like the devil carved you himself – so dangerously beautiful,” he whispered under his breath. 

When Y/n didn’t say anything, wanting for him to continue admitting all that he’d done, the young one laughed. 

"We aren't going to kill you, by the way,” said he who Y/n was beginning to assume was Stefan.

"Too bad that I will, once I'm out of these shackles."

Y/n genuinely was disappointed. She wanted to cry because she hadn't even thought about this possibly being a trap, and she hated herself for it. And she also hated the fact that these people found it so entertaining, the way they'd played her.

Feeling pathetic, she manipulated herself to turn her sadness into ferocious rage. She couldn't let these men take advantage of her.

Someone laughed, and Y/n smiled. She wanted them to believe that she couldn't help herself out of the chains.

"We just want Klaus," Damon said as if he was bored out of his wits. "You see, he loves you. Surely, he'll trace you here. Then we'll capture him, toy with him, kill him and ponder what to do with your beauty."

Y/n wasn't feeling too sarcastic anymore. She wanted to skin these men alive and hang them upside down to be eaten alive by the crows. But she contained herself with a deep breath.

"You've seen so much of my beauty, it'll only be fair if I got to see yours," she proposed and waited in silence as someone walked over and removed the blindfold from her face.

Squinting, she saw Guiseppe, who looked like he wanted to kill himself. Then she saw Damon, who looked exactly like he talked and Stefan, who was as handsome as his smooth voice.

"Handsome, you two," she nodded at the younger men. "Surely you've got your looks from your stunning mother," she added.

Damon snickered and Stefan glared at him.

"You know, since Klaus met you, his heart has clearly grown quite faint. And we have been sitting, bored, for too long now. It would be nice to have somethings stirred up, yea?"

Y/n shivered as the dark room lit up when lightning stroked the sky.

"Oh, you don't play games with the wily devil," she cautioned, lowering her voice just to exaggerate although everyone in the room was on edge, knowing she'd spoken nothing if not the utter truth.

"Too late to back out now, though," a glowering voice came from right outside the locked doors of what Y/n could only assume was a dungeon or a chamber of some sort.

She grinned, quickly scanning the three men's faces to relish in their fear. Damon's sharp eyes were now wide open, waiting for his death to come any second now. Stefan was standing in a stance, ready to fight although he knew he didn't stand a chance.

And Guiseppe had broken cold sweat, his breathing was so heavy Y/n almost missed the erratic beating of his heart.

Klaus was here, she could imagine him standing behind the door solely for the suspense, fully capable of breaking down the door into shambles.

He kicked once, and the doors came falling inwards, Damon stepping back just in time for the wood to splinter on the floor in front of him.

When Y/n's eyes met with Klaus', she urged him to turn around. But then she flinched when Klaus missed her indication and was hit by a vase on the nape of his neck.

He fell to the ground. crouching for only a second before he'd disappeared.

The three men searched frantically, turning and twisting in distress.

Y/n saw him racing towards her and she opened her arms, letting him carry her. He situated her on the floor above, behind the railings.

“Are you alright?” He asked frantically, searching her over for any signs of injuries. But Y/n cupped his face and kissed him, reassuring him that she wasn’t wounded.

"Don't look," he asked of her earnestly, knowing the effect it could potentially have on her later on. "For me," he breathed.

Y/n pecked his mouth, then. Resting her lips on his until there was only Klaus' scent in front of her instead of him. She stumbled back and slid down a wall, sitting down and burrowing her head in her knees.

"Prepare your riffles!" Guiseppe shouted at the group of men filling the room urgently.

Guns were cocked and sat on men's shoulders, their fingers on the triggers, ready to shoot to kill.

"Where's --" Albert was cut off by a gust of air, during which he disappeared. He was one of the men, the most determined of them all and still the one with the most thirst for life.

Damon turned and saw for himself the chains to which he had tied Y/n, now lying on the grounds, wrapped around Albert's throat. His eyes were wide open, not a sparkle of life left in them.

Swallowing, Damon knocked his elbow into Stefan's ribs. When he hissed in response, Damon shut him up by pointing towards the dead body.

Both of the boys were now looking towards their father with the same hatred they glared at him with every day. He was going to be the reason behind their deaths. They thought of fleeing at the same point, unaware of each other's notions but both were too full of pride to die a coward.

They knew that if they ran, they had a higher chance of dying.

It was silent again, the only sounds in the room being rapidly beating hearts being interrupted by the rolling thunder outside.

Someone pulled the trigger, and when everyone saw, the bullet had passed through the middle of his own forehead. It was Frank, the one who had come to fight quite reluctantly.

Many men were thinking of fleeing now.

"You didn't tell us that the vampires could do this!" Bert gritted near Guiseppe's ear. He was now hopeless for he was never going to get to take walks near his favourite lake ever again.

"You'll be more responsible for our deaths than these goddamn monsters," shouted young James from across the room. He has just gotten married and wanted to have children, raise them up to be as strong as their mother.

Guiseppe was getting more and more frantic now, he could see his death waiting around the corner for him. The sweat rolling down his back was too cold, and his heart felt like it was going to burst inside of his chest.

Nothing was going how he had planned it.

James also disappeared then, and upon noise, everyone saw that his body was hanging off the humongous chandelier, the blood from the open wound on his neck dripping down on men's faces and on the floor. The sound of the blood pooling was ringing in everyone's ears and they all moved out of the way quickly, wiping off the blood on them with the cuffs of their shirts.

Metallic scent of the blood was beginning to suffocate everyone. Choking sounds were heard before William was thrown to a wall, also dead. He was a master at playing cards.

"Run everyone and set the room on fire!" Shouted Bert, but then his head was smashed off his shoulders and his body was swaying around, before it fell to the ground, writhing a little more before going still.

Now only Damon, Stefan and Guiseppe were left alive in the room. The two younger ones looked at each of the lifeless bodies, then at each other.

"God, I want to kill you two before they get a chance!" Guiseppe roared and bent to steal the gun from Bert's hands.,

But before he could pull the trigger, his head was pulled back and a knife sliced his throat.

The two boys howled in agony and covered their faces when Guiseppe's blood sprayed all over them.

When nothing more happened, they opened their eyes and saw Y/n still holding onto their father, the knife still in her bloodied hands.

Dropping the body then, Y/n looked at them regretfully.

She had to come out since Klaus had to take a second to keep his wolf at bay and the old twat was going to shoot his sons. She didn't mind witnessing the three men's deaths at all though. Surely, they must've prepared themselves for it when they'd been planning the entire betrayal.

"Sorry you had to see that," she muttered, stealing her gaze from their horrified ones. Or maybe from Klaus' eyes that shone golden from where he was standing right behind their backs.

She knew the two brothers' fates before they could've even battled whether to try and negotiate a deal or not.

One of the chains which she had been tied to earlier, was wrapped around Klaus' fist.

In the blink of her eyes, both of the brothers had begun choking. The same chain wrapped around their throats; their backs pressed together. If one tried to pull the chain away from their neck, the other brother would choke to death.

Damon was coughing out his spare breaths, panic widening his eyes so much that Y/n feared they might pop out of their sockets. His mouth was beginning to lose colour just like his skin. Still, there was the beg for another chance reddening his eyes, but Y/n switched her gaze onto Stefan.

He was wheezing heavily, his throat making loud creaky noises that Y/n, unfortunately, could recognise anywhere, at any time. He was dying faster than Damon, and his eyes were set on hers when they stopped moving.

As his body began to fall forward, the chain around Damon's neck tightened so tightly that his tongue protruded out of his mouth, eyes staring into the void, lifeless.

Y/n took a shuddering breath, then looked at Klaus.

"I'm sorry you had to do this," she whispered, crossing over the two dead bodies to cup his face.

It had been hard to have him feel solace with his existence without having the urge to kill. Almost like trying to get him clean off of a drug addiction.

This had been a relapse, then. And Y/n's stone-cold heart was trembling inside her chest in fear of losing him to the coping addiction again.

But then the golden rim of an eclipse melted like honey into the moss of his eyes, and they crinkled at the corners. He leaned in and rested his forehead on hers.

"This did not happen because of you, remember that," he whispered. "I needed to do this, or I wouldn't have been able to live with myself."

Y/n nodded solemnly. A tear rolled down her cheek.

"I love you," she sobbed, her body shaking as she pushed herself further into Klaus' chest, wanting to hide away from all that was surrounding her. "You are the remedy of all things."

"Always and forever, my love," Klaus smiled, wrapping his arms around her.

"Let's go home," he muttered into her hair and bent down to pick her up like he had on their wedding day.

"No carriages, since the driver will surely take us to the authorities upon seeing us doused in blood and have not a single wound at the same time," he grinned, laughing when she hit his chest.

"I was really excited for this ball," Y/n sighed. "I wish it didn't have to be this way."

"Me too, love," Klaus said, preparing to race through the small town along with the clear wind.

"But it was evanescent, wasn't it? This rage, this murderous urge – it was fleeting?" Y/n asked nervously, hopefully.

Klaus nodded faintly. "I'm offended you'd think I have such low control," he teased, and Y/n breathed a sigh of relief. “My love, this thirst has gone as quickly as it’d come,” he reassured her. 

"Didn't want to kill again but I'm guessing it was for the better, since no one would dare to forget about what the hybrid is capable of for a long time now," smirking, Klaus looked around at the mess he'd made.

“Now let’s go back home,” he smiled and Y/n’s eyes watered as she nodded. 

When Klaus had suspected foul play, he'd felt vontade; a strong desire to do something. So powerful had been his inner drive to remind everyone of his terror that he couldn't have helped himself. The thought of losing Y/n had been petrifying enough.

So, he kicked someone's decapitated head out of his way and strolled outside, already annoyed upon the realisation that in the morning, he’d have to hear about the harrowing news of the horrors found inside the Castle Harrowgate. 

[anantaru]

cw. none, reader is insecure, established relationship, gn! reader

you awkwardly brush away the dust from your clothes before reluctantly looking in the mirror, nervously shifting your weight from left leg to right leg as you inspect yourself, and perhaps on that day, you do not like what you see.

yes, it happens, you could not see a single thing, yet your legs refused to walk away from the sight of yourself.

well, maybe, you shouldn't be sad, it would only make yourself feel a lot worse, don't you think? although as you were to slowly let the negative notions grasp onto yourself like a dangerous virus eating away on its host, you notice two familiar arms wrap around your waist as you feel the comfortable warmth of diluc's chest pressed against your back.

diluc ragnvindr was always like this, without great effort, noticing whenever you aren't feeling your best.

he rests his head in the nook of your neck and breathes in, a long inhale of air gathering in his lungs before he exhales through his parted mouth, "hey, you're so beautiful, you know that?" he whispers with a gentle smile that touched the deepest parts in your heart as blood rushes to your cheeks at the compliment.

his lips shortly place a warm kiss at the curve where your neck connects to your shoulder, speaking to you without requiring words, yet doing it distinctly enough like chords do from the string, "i find myself looking at you, all the time."

with love so sudden and sweet, it takes you by storm, his gentle kisses seemingly hearing the silent, negative voice in your head as he knows how to make you calm down and comfort you in the process.

curiously, your gaze swathes from your figure to his face, admiring the handsome features belonging to your boyfriend— those lips and those eyes, reaching your soul when it feels out of sight.

he does it flawlessly, loving you of course, because diluc loves you to the depth and breadth and height, with a passion entirely put to use.

it pains him when he sees you saddened. when all he sees is a beauty of cloudless climes and starry skies— your smile that shows him what home looks like, or the addiction of your lips, the glow in your eyes.

hey, you hear? you need to focus.

because my dear, you're perfect you see, you cannot not be.

because perfection ultimately lies in the imperfection of it all, the uniqueness, the individuality and kindness.

and even when you cannot see it at all today, all of it will forever bloom like the sweetest flower on your face.

©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify, claim as your own

[diejager]

how does a (monster AU) phoenix! reader sound? ...I kinda imagine 141 (except price) getting a heart attack when reader takes a bullet and bursts into flames and then a heap of ash, and then (im pulling a harry potter description of pheonix but its ur choice) the most ugly bird or something pokes their head out of the ashes and they're like '...oh'.

I remember watching Fawkes burning and turning to ash before he popped his head out. So adorable.

Ashes Cw: burning, death, rebirth, tell me if I missed any.

Ghost knew when someone was lying, able to sniff out a liar within a mile. Your dimmer smile, shorter laughter and exhaiusted expression, nothing seemed to make your days better than a warm bump of tea once or twice a day to sooth the ache in your bones and the strain in your muscles. He’d approach you with a clear mind, wanting to get to the bottom of your sickness, why you’d occasionally cough, voice weak and breathy until it cracked. You told him you were fine, that it was just the weather affecting you, but he’d seen this kind of sickness before, a cold that sunk into the bones and clogged every sinuses with intent —sick and vulnerable.

He wasn’t alone in this thought, Alejandro and Gaz shared similar doubts, coming forth to Price with their fears rather than sneaking around like he did, but Price had waved them off, telling them that it was a seasonal thing, you got sick from time to time and rose back from it as if death failed to catch you. This did not seem like something simple and mundane, Ghost could see death follow you like it followed him, it was ever present, so much so that Alejandro and Horangi - the two with the weakest nose out of the four - could smell it ooze off you like a dark miasma plaguing your body.

It seemed as if the both of you shared something that the others weren’t privy to, a low whisper in the dark that they failed to catch or the secret you shared through confidentiality higher than even a colonel. The captain knew you before you joined them, forming a tight connection through past trauma and fuck ups. Perhaps that’s why Price seemed almost chipper about your saddening state.

It seemed that Ghost was kept in as much darkness as the rest, the higher ups had kept it hidden from him, from König and from Alejandro who should’ve had the jurisdiction to have access to your documents. Especially after seeing you burst into flames after being shot in the neck by a surviving sniper (Ghost was quick to shoot him down), body gone in a coud of ash and dusted feathers. He panicked, but he wasn’t the only one to rush towards what remained of you. Despite their panicked mumbles and frantic thoughts, Price had reassured them that it was normal, that you were still alive —all they had to do was wait a few seconds for you to reappear.

Appear you did, a small, ashen head, beak the length of a child’s thumb, small ad brittle, big, rounded eyes blinked at them, narrowed in confusion until you called, a tiny croon from a chick’s throat. You shuffled your way through the mess, featherless wings flapping as you hopped towards Price, who quickly met you half way, picking you up with one nimble swoop.

“Look at you,” Price cooed, pressing his thumb to your forehead, feeling the soft, newly grown feathers that glowed white, “About time you burned, yeah?”

“Fuckin’ hell,” it was the only thing he could answer with when his mind was building up these theories, every little thought in his head went to understand what and how you were made. It was as close as Soap’s Steamin’ bloody Jesus or König’s dumbfounded Was.

“Is that why you told us not to worry, Captain?” Gaz’s ability to think clearly in adrenaline-inducing moments was a blessing, able to restrain his unending thoughts to connect two together and conjure up a sentence - a few words, a mumble or a plea - to understand whatever happened to you. “What happened?”

Price let out a deep rumble, a laugh from his belly, deep and amused, a striking contrast to their worried frowns. He handled you softly, petting and pinching at the young feathers growing on you while he turned you around, showing them how Price held you with such careful ease and soothing smile. Ghost doubted that Price didn’t have any prior experience in caring for you, seeing how loving he was with you —like a lover caring for his sickened, or a dragon guarding his treasure, Ghost wasn’t sure which one was right.

“Hunter’s a phoenix, “ he smiled softly, eyes gleaming with too much glee, a silent laugh at their sudden bewilderment, approaching you slowly to admire you themselves. “They burst to flames every three years or so, the last one was around five years ago- long overdue for a reset.”

Soap and Horangi were the first to attempt to touch you, the excited dog and the curious feline, tentatively poking at you with a finger until you pecked it, annoyed by their incessant jabbing. You let out a shrill cry from your throat, small and hilariously fierce for something so small and fragile. You crawled to the ends of Price’s fingers, wings flapping to urge them to pick you up instead of pointing a finger and cooing at you as if you were an exotic animal. You somewhat were —exotic, that is.

“A wee thang, aye, Cap?” Soap awed, cradling you in his palms, you weighted so little, as light as a feather on Gaz’s wing.

“Ugly as a rat too,” Horangi snickered, making light of the situation that had made their hearts stop.

You screeched, shaking your head wildly at him, his shoulders bobbing while you showed how offended you felt by acting out, an angry, little chick putting on a show of aggression and courage. His dark thoughts receded, Ghost’s fears and demons falling back into the depths of his mind when his eyes met your beady ones, round and doe-eyed, your age shining through the innocence of a newly-hatched. It made him wonder how you’d look once your feathers grew out, would you be as majestic as the stories portrayed phoenix did, with your great wings and great strength, feathers bathed in the sun’s warm embrace and tipped with the power of undying flames of power. Phoenixes were seen as symbols of immortality, resurrection —of life and death. Untouchable by death and favoured by life, you would live in a cycle of ashes and flames, embers cracking until it softened to flickers, a soft, gentle flame ready to yield to nature.

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