#make him experience the horrors!!! please<3 for me<3

[mayoiayasep]

i do hope fuuta is voted innocent overall but also i hope that the backdraft mv is just him having the worst time of his life

[r1elle]

atsumu who just gets so annoyed at that stupid plushie on your bed.

at first, he denies it. he denies it because the whole matter is just so above and beyond him.

to be genuinely pissed at some stuffed animal? please. he’s THE MSBY Black Jackals’ Setter. a PRO volleyball player. and most importantly, a GROWN man. being jealous over some sewn up cotton? goodness.

but the nights you had abandoned and turned your back towards him just to unconsciously reach for that plushie and cuddle with it instead began to frequent more than atsumu could tolerate.

hes definitely death threatening that stuffed beast (his own choice of words) the morning after.

is this what those scientists in shows felt like when their own experiments went against them? because seeing that white teddy bear he had prided himself in buying as a gift for your anniversary come and replace him during the hours of your slumber wasn’t really the nicest feelings ever.

so, if you find a rather jolly and humming atsumu sipping his coffee at 8:30 am in the morning, just know that he’s feeling really accomplished and expecting your figure to be the only thing he’s holding from the moment you close your eyes, and up for when you open them once again.

“mornin’, baby. whats up with the upset brows?

oh, but don’t look at how the attic just so happened to have its entrance slightly ajar. unfortunately, doing a clean job wasn’t really in atsumu’s blood that day.

____

“atsumu, have you seen the bear you got me for our anniversary? i’m worried… i cant seem to find it. it’s just.. gone?”

“eh? that big thing? how would it even get lost in the first place?”

“i know.. it’s so weird..”

“maybe yer’ just not looking hard enough, sweet.”

“but how—?……also, why’s the attic open?”

“ya look beautiful, by the way.”

“wh—?”

“just woke up too. so gorgeous. wouldn’t expect less from ya. c’mon, let’s go on a walk.”

“but atsumu, the att—

“i think the tulips you planted finally bloomed. let’s check, hm?”

“i just planted them three days ago—?? hey! atsumu! ats—!!”

well. taking an unexpected walk around the neighbourhood on an empty stomach definitely didn’t make things any better that morning.

——

though, if it alleviates anything within you, perhaps do take note at the horror on atsumu’s face upon the sight of your child dusting off that same white teddy bear she had “found while treasure hunting in the attic!” six years later.

as you make a snide comment (totally not directed at your awfully tense husband), and lead your daughter to washing the now roughed up plush, atsumu couldn’t help but feel as if that bear had been plotting against him, making sure to come back with even more malice for their inevitable reunion. (what a poetic mind, atsumu.)

and so, with no you to hold and to feel, and with no daughter to keep close by,

the bed surely felt colder that night.

stupid bear.

———————————————————————————

shameless plug but if u want more atsumu then.. heheh —> loser tsumu ;3

but yeah i don’t think the atsumu hyperfixation is ever gonna end

[wrioluvr]

subby vampire x dom male reader pt 2 pt 1

thank u guys for liking kliff!! he's so baby. felt kinda mean and thought about a scenario where reader is like, a regular monster fucker and poor kliff finds out he hooked up with another vampire and gets super jealous teehee... but this is wholesome tho.

content: reader is kind of a player, blowjob (reader receiving), reader loves tormenting the poor old man, more plot-focused than pure smut

★ ; 🦇🍷. . ♱

after visiting kliff at his crumbling manor a few more times, you decided that you were getting tired of making the trip out into the woods everytime, and invited him over to your house instead, an invitation he eagerly accepted. though he kept a calm composure, inwardly, his thoughts were running wild - he would finally be able to bask in a whole home full of your scent.... maybe even steal a few small trinkets he could toy with whenever he felt lonely... or... or even get a feel of your bed, where he fantasised about waking up next to you and spending the rest of his days as your faithful househusband. oh, how delightful.

"thank you ever so much for allowing me to enter your abode. i am most honoured." thanking you profusely, he elegantly sat down on your sofa, only to immediately scrunch up his face in discomfort. you stared at him, puzzled. "what's wrong? you don't like my home?"

"no, no... it's not that... it's just that... this scent is so familiar. in an unnverving way..." he mumbled, talking to himself. suddenly, a look of recognition, mixed with horror, dawned on his face. "correct me if i'm wrong, but... there's not a chance you've had another vampire over.... is there?"

"oh! i forgot you vampires have a heightened sense of smell. yeah, i hooked up with another vampire like, 3 weeks ago." you said nonchantly, like it was the most insignificant thing ever. kliff merely gaped at you, aghast at your casualness. "so... so... i'm not your first vampire relationship?" he asked meekly, almost like he was afraid of the answer.

"well, yes. i dated, hmm...." you start to list them on your fingers. "two vampires, one werewolf, one merman... oh, right, and one evil ass fairy. he was mean."

poor kliff looked like he was about to collapse, his hand clutching his chest dramatically. thankfully he was sitting down, otherwise he would have fallen over. "where on earth do you even find these creatures?"

"i get around."

"and you never thought to mention this?!"

"i mean, i didn't really think it was important..."

kliff sighed, suddenly feeling a little insecure at his complete lack of romantic experience in contrast to your many flings. "may i at least see what your past vampire suitors looked like?" he didn't want to admit it, but he was suddenly feeling very clingy, even more than usual. he had to be better than all your exes! so that you wouldn't leave him like you left them!

"sure. here you go." you pull out your phone and show him a picture, only for kliff to gasp loudly and clutch his chest even tighter. what a drama queen.

"HIM."

"you know him??"

"that little whore was going around sleeping with every man and woman in town a hundred years ago! i cannot BELIEVE he is still so promiscuous in this day and age. he even seduced you..."

"woah! language, kliff!"

kliff stops mid-ramble and clears his throat in embarassment. "my apologies. this is most uncouth of me. i do not know why i am getting so frustrated over this. the two of you are not seeing each other anymore, correct?"

"yes. you're the only one i'm seeing right now."

"and, if i may be so bold to inquire,,,, how was he like as a lover?"

"he was kinda annoying." kilff let a smirk escape his lips upon hearing this. "i knew it-" "the head was good though."

"what- what does 'head' mean?"

"he sucked my dick." you say bluntly.

"oh, good heavens."

"don't be a prude! wait... kliff, are you jealous of him?"

"i most certainly am not."

"at your big age? please be serious." you tease, amused at how possessive he suddenly got.

"do NOT make fun of me. i said i'm not." the pout adorning his face said otherwise.

kliff barely noticed it, but slowly he inched closer and closer to you, eyes scanning your neck as he frantically searched for bite marks.

"did he bite you anywhere? did it hurt? you must know, i would never even consider drinking from you, right?" he took your hand, eyes searching desperately for validation, any form of praise that indicated you thought he was the better vampire.

you rolled your eyes. "jeez, kliff. i didn't take you for the possessive type. don't worry, none of my previous vampire lovers have drunk from me."

that did little to reassure him, since he was on the same page. "then... then... i must be better at this 'head' thing!" he declares, face full of misplaced determination. you almost double over laughing.

"it's not a competition! my god, you're so unserious."

"it does not matter to me! i must be better than that lustful shame of a vampire at every aspect. especially since we are of the same species."

"okay, okay. calm down. i'll let you try."

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

"just let me know you can't breathe or whatever. i'll guide you through your first time, yeah?" kliff nods, a blush extremely prominent on his undead features as he knelt between your thighs. he quite enjoyed this... submissive position.

"also- watch the fangs." the authoritative, yet gentle tone of your voice sent shivers down his spine.

he himself could be considered a monster, but he paled in comparison to the monster that sprung out of your pants once he clumsily undid the zipper. kliff gasped, a look of pure lust and nervousness written all over his expression as your slightly erect cock hovered over his face.

"so... basically... you just put it inside your mouth, then start sucking it. easy enough, right? come on, don't tell me you've never heard of a blowjob in your entire existence."

"of course i have..... i admit, i own quite a bit of... erotic fiction." he mumbles, eyes still on your cock, cheeks growing redder by the second. "but, goodness, it's so different seeing a real phallus up close. especially one of your size."

"phallus??? just say cock."

"mhm...." he hesitates, unsure where to even begin. flustered, he looks up imploringly, silently begging for you to guide him.

you chuckle at his frozen state, completely at a loss on what to do. "so needy. i'll help you."

tenderly, you run a hand through his soft hair, applying just a little bit of power to tug his head forward, guiding him to your tip. obediently, he opened his mouth, taking the shaft inside. it was warm, his rough tongue grazing over your tip, causing you to grip his hair a little tighter. kliff let out a masochistic moan in response. slowly, he ventured further down your length, but unable to reach the base without gagging. he looked up at you with apologetic eyes, but you squeezed his shoulder to let him know he was doing well. "good job, kliff. you're a natural." spurred on by your praise, kliff found a lewd rhythm, mouth bobbing up and down in a continuous passionate attempt to make you feel good.

your small grunts of pleasure kept him going. panting, you ask, "you sure you've never done this before, kliff? you're so good." he frantically shakes his head, mouth still full of cock, as if the idea that he engaged in such intimate acts with anyone but you was horrifying. he was loyal like that. it was intoxicating, the head only vampires could provide - fangs lightly grazing your cock's sensitive areas, the slight thrill unmatched. merman head was sloppy, werewolf head was rough, but vampire head was a little dangerous. you liked that.

soon enough, you were about to cum. you warned him, patting his shoulder twice, he vigorously nodded, giving you permission to cum inside his mouth. he'd only ever been used to having blood in his mouth, so having your cum inside instead was a new experience. but he liked it. maybe a little too much, as he swallowed it so enthusiastically. you gazed upon him affectionately, finding his virgin excitement over such lewd matters endearing.

"how was i?" the breathless question hung in the air, a reminder of the atmosphere thick with your intertwined tension.

cupping his face with one hand, the other stroking his hair soothingly, you muttered the words he most wanted to hear. "you were better than him."

kliff jumps into your arms, nuzzling his face into your shoulder. "thank you. you're the absolute best." he's so content to spend the rest of his days with you. treat him with care, yeah?

>ᵥᵥ< 💘

tags: @4eaever @szapizzapanda @flyingsquids @vampmasc

omg i'm so happy with this one, one of my fav writings i've ever done so far. i felt like i characterised kliff and captured their dynamic quite well here hehehe

[hanafubukki]

Yuu being a little afraid of being pregnant, but the world of twisted wonderland has much better healthcare and overall treats children better

They're not getting any younger and neither is Lilia, so why not have a baby before they become too old to engage and raise them?

It doesn't take long, between the prescribed gummies from Riddle (their family doctor and old friend) and Lilia's ahem- enthusiasm, they start showing signs 2 months after they popped the question to Lilia

They remember how Lilia literally flew with joy when they told him they're ready. Of course after the initial joy they started discussing how they will go on about this, how Yuu will probably need to go on a vitamin rich diet, start doing pregnant yoga and require daily massages the farther along they get.

However Yuu's pregnancy seems to get harder everyday. A fact so alarming that they bring it up at their next checkup

"well? How's everything?" Lilia asked tentatively

"weeellll...." Riddle began with a sigh as he discarded the gloves " I have some good news and some.... neutral news?"

"neutral news?"

"I'll start with the good news!" He quickly added

"Good news is the baby's healthy! The growth rate is normal and they seem to be doing well"

"and the neutral news???"

Riddle but his bottom lip wincing "Neutral news is... The babies are healthy. Plural. There's 3 in there."

"...what"

Yuu and Lilia's faces were complete opposites. Moving at the same time, Yuu's face pulled into a horrified open mouth look while Lilia couldn't hide his grin. He fixed his expression once he noticed Yuu's horror.

"Luckily, we have magic here that'll make your labour be as easy as blinking, however you'll need to eat more. The reason why you've been exhausted is because you were only eating on account of one baby, sometimes if you're not consciously aware of the fact you're pregnant the body will not experience any additional cravings. In your case, you weren't aware just how pregnant you are"

"I.... How did this even happen- I mean what are the chances????"

"are we happy with this?" Riddle asked, looking only at Yuu with a gaze that told them they're his only priority

Yuu held eye contact and thought about it.

"...Yes. It'll be difficult but I want this"

Riddle smiled at both Yuu and Lilia. After everything, they deserved this.

"Very well then! I advise investing in a pump so that can lessen your load when the babies are born. If you need an extra fridge or an electric kettle please don't hesitate to ask, I know a guy" he says with a wink

Lilia smiled, trying to tone down his excitement "we appreciate your help Dr. Rosehearts"

Riddle scoffs "Oh please we go way back. Consider this my personal 'thank you' for helping me out back then, Yuu"

As they walked from the clinic to the nearest portal Yuu could practically feel the joy radiating from their husband. It was impressive how he managed to keep a hold on them and help them walk rather than outright carrying them and flying away

They decided to break the ice "soooo?"

They hear him him take a deep breath before scream-laughing. It honestly startled them

"I GOT A 3 FOR 1 DEAL!" of course this is how he chose to express his joy

Yuu groaned " anymore of this and I'm telling grim you hid his tuna away"

"aww so mean~ can't an old man be happy?"

"you're a particularly loud old man, and I too am old with a terrible headache so have some sympathy, sir!"

"ah anything goes for my cranky old spouse"

He peppered Yuu's face with kisses before carrying them through the portal

It's a good thing they preemptively bought multiple baby clothes (mostly because Yuu was scared of leaving the baby and Lilia in the kitchen together would lead to unsalvageable tatters)

Bonus:

"Well at least now Silver, Malleus and Sebek won't need to fight about being the favourite older brother"

"let's not kid ourselves batsy, they will still engage in petty competition"

"but we did kid ourselves.... 3 times kfufufu"

"no more cuddles for a week"

"wait no-"

Hello Anonie 🌷💞💚

THERE WAS 3!!! 😆😂 not only was lilia enthusiastic but so was his seed it seems omg 😆

Which makes sense because bats do tend to have more than one at once.

Everyone gets a baby! One for brother mal, one for brother sil, and one for uncle sebek. 🥳🥳

You get a baby and you get a baby and you and you 🤣

Riddle is so sweeettt 😭😭💞💞 I’m so happy. He’s attentive.🥺🥹

…”3 for 1 deal”!!!!! LMFAOO I’m crying 😂

This was adorable. 💚

[vintagetvstars]

Alan Alda Vs. Robin Williams

Propaganda

Alan Alda - (M*A*S*H) - He is both the saddest wettest little meow meow and your kindly grandfather and your favourite eccentric uncle (mom's side). Somehow it works. Passionate Democrat, feminist, great writer, he and his books are hilarious. Did a cartwheel when he won an Emmy! How he met his wife is the best meet cute of the last two centuries, and they've now been married over 60 years!!!

Robin Williams - (Mork & Mindy) - Mork & Mindy will forever be iconic. Robin Williams is such a gem on this show! Nanu Nanu <3

- No Negative Propaganda Please -

Master Poll List | How to submit propaganda | What is vintage? (FAQ)

Additional propaganda below the cut

Alan Alda:

he’s just so good in MASH

he put so much bisexuality into hawkeye i think it fundamentally changed me when i was little and watching mash for the first time. anyway do we all know the story about how he met his wife when they were at a party together and they were the only two people eating the cake that fell on the floor and he fell in love with her over her laugh. i just think hes neat :) i love when theres a strange looking man. also feel it necessary to say that the guy that wrote the book mash was based on wrote himself as hawkeye and HATED alda's hawkeye bc he displayed his morals too much (alda had it in his contract for the show that every episode had to have an operating room scene bc otherwise you arent backdropping the fact that war is Not fun. actually. he almost didnt take the role bc he thought a war comedy would make too much light of the horrors)

please please please use this picture of him, he's so hot in it

His comedic delivery in MASH...

The story of how he met his wife is charming and sweet, and they've now been married 65 years

Just look at him. He's the most beautiful man I've ever seen but also he's completely average. He's got a weak jawlines and a round face and these big soft eyes and he's just so beautiful. He's capable of playing a silly charismatic sitcom protagonist in one scene, and a jaded army surgeon haunted by the deaths he's witnessed in the next. He's so hot that my dad once told me he decided to apply to medical school because of how much he was attracted to Hawkeye Pierce. That's literally how I learned that my father was bisexual.

He's also just a really great dude? He's been outspoken about his political beliefs for a long time, and has always been strongly and vocally anti-war, pro-feminist, and pro lgbt. He served a tour in the Korean war, and his experiences there informed his performance in the show. He (and honestly the entire cast, but especially him) really just soared above and beyond the standard for comedies of the day.

He's so funny and his eyes are pretty

He loves and is a champion of science (Source).

Robin Williams:

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

Bonus DP x DC prompt “Star-crossed lovers” to this prompt where Batclan ship “Pitch Pearl”

"Give me my Romeo, and, when he shall die, take him and cut him out in little stars, and he will make the face of heaven so fine that all the world will be in love with night and pay no worship to the garish sun." -Juliet (act 3, scene 2)

Red Hood stays in Amity Park to observe the situation after the romantic conflict resolution between Fenton and Phantom.

One day from a rooftop next to the Fenton Works he sees Fenton putting toxic ectoplasm in a bottle on the table, sighing and pouring it into a glass.

The horror of plunging into the Lazarus pit flashes before Jason’s eyes. Who would be crazy enough to want to experience such a thing? And for what?

As a proud bookworm, he could not help but remember the story of Romeo and Juliet at the same moment.

"My only love sprung from my only hate, too early seen unknown, and known too late! Prodigious birth of love it is to me that I must love my enemy." -Juliet (act 1, scene 5)

Parents who are against relationships and hate the fact that their child’s partner exists? Checked out.

Dead Romeo? Uh, yeah, definitely.

Vial of poison? Freely available in the lab.

There can be only one logical conclusion: Seeing the dead lover, Fenton thinks only about how soon to die himself.

Is Fenton ready to join his lover in the Kingdom of the Dead? He has no guarantee of returning as a ghost, so why risk it?

Jason*runs to save “Juliet”*: I defy you, stars!

~~~~

Needless to say, sleep-deprived Danny is extremely unhappy when a guy in a leather jacket breaks into his house and tries to take his lunch away. 

Both boys panick, scream and absolutely not hear each other.

Jason: Don’t do this! It’s not worth it, there must be another way! 

Danny: Give me my soup back, thief! Take the turkey, it’s going to go bad.

Jason: I am serious.“ Love moderately. Long love doth so.

Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow.” Leave the ectoplasm to the dead ones, boy.

Danny: What a coincidence, I’m already dead deep deep inside.

Jason: Don’t joke, you should talk to a therapist.

Danny: Great idea. Jazz, help! Human in the house! This is not a drill!

Jason:..In general, both of you should talk to the Justice League. They can protect Phantom from your parents, don’t worry. You are not alone. 

~~~~

Fenton, sitting in front of the Justice League.

Flash: So, you and Phantom, how did you decide to start dating?

Danny: Well, what can I say in defense.. "Death, that hath sucked the honey of thy breath, hath had no power yet upon thy beauty." -Romeo (act 5, scene 3)

Justice League:

Danny: Just kidding. I learned a whole quote for this. Can someone be proud of me, please? 

Batman: Hmmm

Danny: Thanks. And relax, I knew him before he died. Our relationship has always been complicated but we literally can’t exist without each other. So don’t worry about our breakup, it’s unlikely.

Danny: And don’t think I’d kill myself in such a stupid way, it’s boring. You might want to be more concerned about whether or not I’m shocking myself with a Fenton portal than watching my food. My stomach is indestructible, tested by years of ecto-contaminated cooking. But I don’t want to die. All this RIP is a complete lie. Trust me.

Red Hood: You. use to eat. ectoplasm?!

Danny: Yes, it's very nutritious. But you need to develop tolerance to it, otherwise you will be able to try it only once in a lifetime.

[angellettes]

𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐀𝐒 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐀𝐑 ➔ JACK CHAMPION

─ synopsis. reader is an actress and jack champion. She is playing the part of Ethan landry's girlfriend in scream VI and accomplice

─ notes. I'm not a big fan of how I wrote this it kinda sucks but I hope you guys like it ♡ genre/warnings.. none for this chapter just pure fluff!♡ my page is minors dni. this chapter is suitable for any age but minors are not welcome on my page for their own safety

You and Jack had been dating for 3 years, and unknowingly were both casted for Scream VI. You hadn't found out about both getting casted until you had to meet the cast members before shooting was set to start. Certainly the experience of being a couple and playing a couple in a literal horror movie was Certainly interesting.

you both were getting ready on set to start filming, as you had a conversation about how funny it was that you were unknowingly casted in the same movie and playing as a couple in the movie, and how funny it was. your character's name was Amira lynn. You quite liked your character. It was simple but not boring. Your character was supposed to be a fashion major, and you were also the accomplice of Ethan Landry. Your role was interesting, had a good smart, but kinda ditzy personality.

The first few days of shooting got a little boring because you were there in a lot of the movie. Your character was sort of like ethan's alibi. When Ethan wasn't around during an attack you had to vouch for him. As the characters got more suspicious of Ethan you guys had to make a little plan to get them off track, so you staged an attack by ghostface. The filming for your attack was thrilling and kind of fun, as it involved getting chased around, thrown into walls, and getting tackled several times. Next thing you knew your character was dead during the attack scene after Mindy accused Ethan. You getting killed got them off track.

You stuck around on set for the rest of the time until your last scene which would be the reveal. Your character was Ethan's accomplice, who would make calls, do occasional killing, and vouched for him if they got suspicious.

"now die a fucking virgin" Jenna seethes out as Jack's characters dies by getting stabbed in the throat. You scream out and run towards his "dead boddy and hold him "please don't leave" you sobbed out. Then your character dies by being shot in the back. You flop down on the ground next to jack, holding his hand, talking about how in another happier life you would've gotten away with the gruesome crimes you did, and would've graduated college and got married. Melissa walks up to you, shooting you in the head, and then your part is done.

At the premiere of the movie interviewers went wild and swarmed around you asking questions about you it felt to play the roles, and how was your reaction to the fans seeing you both in the same movie. You had know about the shipping mostly from fan edits of you both. And the reason why the public was shipping you is because they didn't know you and Jack were dating for 3 years. Tonight you guys were revealing it.

"How do you both feel about being shipped together by the fans?" the interviewer asks. You and Jack look at eachother with a grin. "Well funny thing is that me and Y/N have been dating for 3 years so I mean it kinda makes us feel giddy" Jack says with a confident look on his face as his arm is wrapped around your waist. All the interviewers had the most priceless reactions after the statement. Made you wonder how people on social media were gonna take it.

When you were on your way home, you checked Twitter and Instagram. You both were shocked to see people were calling you the hottest couple, and some made comments about the fact that you hid it for 3 years, but some weren't shocked because they kind of already had hints and figured it out.

Once you got home you and Jack felt so giddy about the things they said, as you got comfortable, making little comments about it, and laughing, as you held eachother. You both got in bed and immediately Javk pulled you right flush to him, as he buried his face into the crook of your neck. It was nights like this after a busy day that felt the most euphoric. Holding eachother thinking about how you would go about the next day, and just having some cute pillow talk. You both decided to have a scream movie marathon as you fell asleep, feeling eachother's closeness and warmth against eachother. You were so happy to be with this amazing boy.

You both decided to go out the next morning, and get some things to eat, and go shopping, and just have a little day together in celebration of your reveal, and finishing the movie. As you got home there were a ton of notifications on your phone. You opened your phone to see, and saw a post of Twitter, saying " Jack Champion and Y/N L/N spotted today at ///", the post had several pictures of you and Jack walking. You called him over to see. and once he saw he laughed. You closed your phone and looked up at the tall, curly haired, giddy boy you lived with all your heart. He wrapped him arms around you and laid kisses on the crown of you head, and going down to your neck.

"On camera and off, we're always sweet as sugar, and I love that about us. I'm happy we don't have to hide anymore, baby. I love you with all my heart" Jack coos at you, his arms still wrapped around you leaning his head on yours. You sigh in contentment and entangle your fingers with his. "I'm so glad we don't have to hide anymore either. I love you with all my heart, jack". You both looked up at eachother smiling, as you leaned into eachother, and your lips finally met his you knew that no matter what, Jack wold always be by your side, and he knew you would always be by his.

do not plagiarize, translate,or repost my work.

finished- April 8, 2023 , 9:16 AM

[sage-green-matcha]

KILL FOR YOU - ETHAN LANDRY 🔪

having a little fun with Ethan after your murder spree <3

MINORS DNI!

Content includes: Smut! P in V sex, blowjob, a bit of overstim! Mentions of blood, murder, gf!Reader, gf!Ethan

A/n: I love writing psychopath reader 💪

<3

<3

<3

It was off-putting, the way you hummed as you cleaned the pool of blood below you. Ethan paced back and forth as you scrubbed, trying to process what you had just done.

"Please stop spreading the blood" He left prints of red as he walked, making you have to clean up an even bigger mess.

"Sorry..." He felt his chest tighten as he listened to your calm words. It's like you had done this thousands of times before. You were so calm, so confident.

"You said you wanted me to help you with this, E" You mumbled, collecting more water into your bloody sponge.

"Do you regret it?" You asked so nicely, looking up at him with your soft, doughy eyes.

"No...I don't know" His eyebrows furrowed and you smiled, going back to cleaning.

"Richie is proud of you, you know that...right?"

To make Richie proud was all he ever wanted. Sure his father was some half-ass cop and he wanted to make him proud too. But to make Richie like him was all he ever wanted. He always looked up to him, and when he saw what he did in Woodsbooroe he knew he had to do the same.

You know, to carry the legacy.

But it wasn't him who killed the group of friends. It was you.

You knew Ethan's plan would let you experience some of your deepest desires.

The rush of killing was like no other. You felt your body get hot with each stab, every splash of blood that hit your face made you excited.

Ethan watched in horror, he thought he would enjoy watching his brother's murderers get killed. But it was the total opposite.

His skin crawled and he cringed each time the blade made contact with skin. He thought about telling you to stop, telling you he wanted to call off the plan. But it had fallen too deep, there was no going back.

"I know" he gulped and you watched as he slipped his shoes off, carefully to make sure you wouldn’t get upset.

He sat on the couch as you finished cleaning, resting his head back while trying to think.

Your eyes watched Ethan carefully, noticing how tense he was. Maybe it was because of the heavy bodies he had just dragged, or he was just stressed about what to do next.

Whatever it was, you knew you could help him.

You sat down on the sparkling wood floor. The one that was just covered in blood. But you didn't make that connection, you were too focused on Ethan.

You traced small circles on his knee, making Ethan look down at you with intimidation in his eyes.

He wasn't sure how to feel. You looked so cute, so innocent. But what you had just done made him question that.

"Talk to me" Your face was squished up against the soft cushion, your finger still moving up and down his leg.

He hesitated as he went to speak, opening his mouth before quickly closing it. "Was this the right thing to do?"

You batted your eyelashes. You were obviously annoyed. He had just had you kill 4 people...for nothing? But you didn't say that you didn't say anything. Instead, you comforted him.

"It was the best option, Ethan. The only option"

"I know, I'm just..." He bit down hard on his lip, scared to admit how he was feeling.

"I'm just confused, I thought if they were dead I would feel better...but I feel the same"

"Let me help you feel better"

The feeling in the room changed. The awkward tension became sexual and it flowed perfectly throughout the quiet room.

He wasn't sure if now was the time for something like this. But yet again, he would never say no to you. You were just trying to help him. And maybe this was just what he needed.

His cheeks were flushed pink as he nodded, giving you the green light.

Usually, you went slow with him. Giving him a handjob till you stuck his cum covered tip in your drooling mouth.

But this time you didn't have patience for any of that, and neither did Ethan.

You sat yourself between his legs, carefully undoing his belt before reaching into his boxers.

Ethan's heart raced, his tummy filled with butterflies as your hand wrapped around his warm cock.

You almost forgot how perfectly he fit in the palm of your hand, slowly pumping his hard shaft.

He shivered as you spit into your hand, a lewd moan falling from his mouth while you watched with amusement.

Precum leaked from his tip, matching the shiny spit on his cock. With every stroke you felt his veins engrave into your hand, memorizing them.

Ethan was so caught up in his own pleasure that he didn't notice you getting closer. When you paused he let out a small whimper, missing your touch.

But he wouldn't complain again, not when your lips were wrapped around him. Your tongue swirled on his tip, kissing and sucking with your entire mouth.

Ethan basically levitated, his hips twitching forward while his eyes were closed tightly.

He pushed himself deeper into your mouth, a small gag coming from your throat.

The sound made him reach for more, thrusting himself into your neck desperately.

"Shit y/n, fuckfuckfuck" Whimpers fell from your lips while tears escaped your eyes. He barely fluttered his eyes open to see you choking on his cock, the sight being one he had imagined hundreds of times before.

He felt a tight feeling in his stomach, his cock twitching in your mouth before you pulled away.

"Why...why'd you stop?" His chest rose up and down with each heavy breath. His eyebrows were furrowed, but his eyes were open just enough to see you unbutton your jeans.

You sat yourself on top of his lap, moving your panties to the side before sliding his length up and down your slit.

You shivered at the feeling, your juices mixing into each other.

Ethan placed his hand on your waist, holding back whimpers and moans while you held onto his cock.

It wasn't like Ethan to get impatient, he was always good for you. But he was desperate, pushing your hips down with a harsh motion.

You let out a small gasp, feeling his veiny cock fill you up. He stretched you out so well, making you hold onto his shoulders.

Before you moved you pushed yourself all the way down, taking every inch of him. You squeezed him tightly, whimpering at the feeling of your hole being fully stretched out.

Gently you rolled your hips, biting your lip to hide any noises. Ethan’s eyes were closed tightly, his mouth wide open while small moans fell from his lips.

The sound of skin slapping filled the room, your head falling onto his shoulder.

You could hear his muffled whines above you, his hands grabbing all over your thighs and ass.

“Shit, Eth. Making me feel so good” You could barely speak as you felt him inside of you, the feeling making you melt. You were never verbal during sex, but Ethan could get used to it.

He trusted his hips forward, his tip making contact with your G spot. Mumbled moans fell from your lips as sweat formed on your forehead.

“Y/n…” A quiet groan fell from his lips, stopped by your teeth digging into his clothed shoulder.

You pushed your hand under his shirt, running it on his toned chest. “Take it off”

You continued to bounce as he slipped it off, Ethan messily throwing it to the side.

Your nails scratched at his chest, your mumbled moans against his skin.

“M close” Ethan's grip got tighter, the pain from your nails shooting straight to his cock. “Cum in me”

All you wanted was to feel Ethan, to hold him close and make him feel better. You needed all of him.

He trembled at your words, his nails digging into your waist. Marks formed in your skin, deep and red but the pain felt so good.

Your face smushed against his chest as his legs started to shake. His cock twitched inside of you, the feeling of hot cum shooting into your pussy.

He tried to breathe but you were desperate for your release, overstimulating Ethan. Your legs began to shake and you melted into him once again, gasps falling messily out of your mouth.

You felt the tie in your stomach snap, legs still shaking as cum dripped out of your hole.

You pulled him into a messy kiss, running your hands through his hair. You weren’t one to express how you felt, but you needed to tell him. It overpowered everything that had just happened and you wanted him to know.

“I love you Eth, I’d kill for you again and again”

[raineandsky]

#113

tw: kidnapping

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3)

“Um,” the villain says as he flicks the living room light on. “What are you doing in my house?”

The hero scowls. “Well, it’s not like I tied myself up and put a bow on my own head, is it?”

And in one of the villain’s own dining room chairs, no less. Couldn’t he at least bring his own? “I don’t know,” the villain says slowly, to the hero’s offence, “you might have.”

“Please tell me you’re joking.”

“I don’t know! Tell me what you’re doing in my house!”

“I don’t know either!”

“There is an alarming lack of information here, [Hero].” The villain steps forward to study the knot in the ropes on the hero’s wrists—just a plain, normal knot. Nothing extravagant, nothing telling. “How do you not know?”

“Well, unfortunately, [Villain], I have spent most of this experience unconscious,” the hero snaps a little harsher than necessary. “I woke up, like, five minutes before you got here.”

The villain tuts, moving his interest onto the comically large bow on the hero’s head. This would’ve been a perfect chance to laugh at him if it wasn’t somehow happening inside the villain’s house.

The villain’s just about to hit the hero with a barrage of questions—with the inevitable “I don’t know”, of course—when answers present themselves in the form of the supervillain.

“Ah, you’re home,” they say brightly. A pair of stout glasses are in their hands, generously topped up with what is undoubtedly whiskey. “How do you like your gift?”

The villain throws a glance at the hero. He looks as lost as the villain feels. “My gift?”

“You’ve been working hard recently, [Villain].” They offer him a glass and he takes it without question. “I thought I could at least acknowledge the positive impact you've had on our little business. On me.”

The hero scoffs but they both ignore him. “What…” The question’s going to sound insane, but this situation is insane enough to warrant it, the villain thinks. “What am I meant to do with a… person?”

The supervillain hums thoughtfully, casting a glance about the room. “Well, I was looking around your place and thought you could use a maid.” They laugh at the scrunch of offence in the villain’s face. “Oh, I’m kidding, [Villain]. Maybe they could be target practice, a pet, a plaything.” A sip from their glass. “Anything your mind can conjure.”

The villain tries to look at the hero like he’s thinking on it. The hero watches him back like he’s trying to read his mind.

The supervillain takes another swig of their drink. The villain copies them before they can notice that he’s avoiding it like it’s poison. It sure tastes like it; it burns the whole way down.

“Any ideas?”

The villain taps the glass to his chin with a tut. “A dog would be nice.” The supervillain snorts a laugh, and the hero’s desperate expression turns flat with horror. “I’m sure I can find a nice collar for him.”

“A shock collar, I hope,” the supervillain suggests with a grin. “Oh, I’m so glad you like it, [Villain]. You deserved a little something for everything you’ve done for me.”

This is more than a little something, but the villain doesn’t bother correcting them. “I love it. Thank you.”

“No darling.” A smile; soft, affectionate. “Thank you.”

The supervillain gives him a pat and sets their glass down on the coffee table. “I have business to attend to. I just wanted to see your reaction.” They make for the door, though the villain’s not convinced that’s how they got in. “I’ll see you tomorrow—keep me updated on how you train them.” And with a wink and one last smirk, they disappear outside and off into the evening.

The hero’s gaze snaps to the villain the moment they’re gone. “A dog?” he demands.

The villain carefully unties the bow on his head, collecting the ribbon in a giant red bundle in his arms. “Yeah,” he says brightly. “Are you going to bolt if I untie you?”

“You called me a dog. I’ll goddamn make like one the moment that door’s open.”

The villain shrugs nonchalantly. “Binds stay on, then.”

“Wait, no—” The hero’s voice is bordering on a cry. The villain doesn’t hate the sound of it. “No, sorry, I just— you want me to be your dog.”

“I do.” The villain smiles innocently. “My guard dog.”

That gives the hero long enough pause for the villain to take his knife to some of the rope. “… Guard dog.”

“You’ll be my bodyguard.” The first wisps break free under his blade. “You’ll work for me, cover my back, whatever I need you to do.”

“You want me to… defend you?”

The villain can’t help but smirk. The ropes split, freeing the hero’s hands. “If you don’t like it, [Supervillain] had plenty of good ideas.”

“No!” It comes out faster than the hero seems to have thought it. “No, I– I can do that.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” The villain sighs contentedly, giving him a mocking pat on the head as he gets back to his feet. “Good boy.”

(next part)

[turtletaubwrites]

Bend Until You Break ~ Part 3

Thank you so much for this request from the lovely @anemptypuddingcup !!🖤

Pairings: YANDERE!Trafalgar Law x Fem!Reader

Bend Until You Break ~ Masterlist

Word Count: 3208

Ao3 Link

Summary: Law gives you the choice to go against your doctor's recommendations as you begin your recovery. Are you clear headed enough to make the right choice?

Rating/Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, DARK CONTENT, DUBCON, Dubious Consent, Swearing, Eventual Smut, Yandere, Manipulation, Power Imbalance, Hypermobility, Medical Examination, Medical Trauma, Medical Conditions, Chronic Pain, Injury, Physical Disability, Physical Therapy, Doctor/Patient, Abuse of Authority, Kidnapping, Possessive Behavior, Other Additional Tags to be Added, (Reader is described as having hair "above her shoulders" that she can brush), Needles, Drugs, Arguing, Massage, Praise Kink, Pain, Dissociation, Humiliation, Gaslighting, Non-Consensual Drug Use, (Implied)

A/N: I hate hospitals 😩 But for Law I might make an exception... Some of these medical issues may or may not have come from personal experience 🙃

Extra A/N: I am not a doctor, and this is not meant to be educational, or to contain any health advice. Please seek a health professional.

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 |

Beeping. 

What is that sound? There’s another sound.

That soun–

Fuck!

A strangled cry left your throat, pain tearing through you.

Tight, fuck it’s so tight, can’t–

Your eyes were still too droopy to open as your hands scrambled at your neck. A sharp pinch twisted against your right wrist, and you felt the pull of wires restricting its movement. 

That beeping noise was louder now.

“Y/N, you’re okay, it’s okay. I’m right here.”

Law’s deep voice pulled you out, giving you a reason to open your eyes. He pulled your hands away from scratching at the neck brace, and you slumped with relief at his touch. 

Only to let out a choked scream at the pain.

“Shh, I’ve got you. Can you stay still for me? I know you can, you’re so strong.”

“I don’t want to be strong anymore.”

Your confession slipped quietly from your trembling lips as you tried to acclimate to the pain, tried to be still for him. 

His brow creased as he looked down at you, and you felt pathetic. You wanted to take it back.

Law brought those cool, tattooed fingers to your face, leaving featherlight touches along your temple and cheek. Your eyes fluttered closed, burning tears starting again.

“You’re right,” he rasped, brushing your tears away with his fingers, leaving the tissues in their box this time.

“You’ve been strong for so long, haven’t you? You shouldn’t have to fight so hard every day.”

Gentle sobs left your throat, interrupted by a small gasp.

His hand still traced your face in soothing lines, until he brushed his tear soaked thumb across your lips.

Your eyelids were still heavy, but you held them open to melt into the storm gray eyes above you. 

“You don’t need to be strong with me, Y/N,” he breathed, close enough to leave the warmth of his words on your face. “I’ll save you.”

~

Beeping.

I’m with Law. I’m okay.

Foggy dreams of Law’s hands on your face made your skin flush before you opened your eyes. 

That beeping got louder as you fought off the embarrassing thoughts you were having about your doctor’s hands, but the slight shift you made in the bed had you forgetting it all, groaning in pain.

“Nice and slow, Y/N. You’re safe, just take some deep breaths.”

Your doctor stepped into view, his eyes scanning your body before gifting you with a gentle smile. 

Attempting a small stretch of your arms was a bad choice, but it brought your attention to the rest of your body. 

The bed was still angled so that your upper body was lifted. Lying flat had been excruciating. But even with your raised position, it was difficult to look down at yourself over the neck brace. 

“Where are my clothes,” you muttered, looming horror growing at the feeling of a hospital gown against your skin. 

“I apologize, Y/N,” Law admitted gently, tilting his head toward the beeping machine. “I needed to monitor your vitals to ensure your safety since we used that medication to help you sleep. I’m afraid I had to cut through your top to avoid injuring your neck further. I was able to save your bra, and I have scrubs you can wear once your neck is healed enough for you to pull the clothes on by yourself.”

He just said a whole bunch of words. 

Your brain decided the best way to handle all of the emotions flying through your head was to ignore them.

“Why do I have an IV?” You changed the subject, lifting your wrist, and tugging all the tubes with it. 

“Again, since you hadn't had that drug before, I took this as a safety precaution. I assumed you would prefer a single needle versus the potential of many if I needed to administer more medication,” he explained as he disconnected you from the tubes, but left the placement on your wrist. “You’ve also been receiving fluids, which is essential after the traumatic night you had.”

A nod made you wince, so you thanked him softly, feeling warmth move through your chest as another hint of a smile touched his lips. 

“Do you have the energy to move, Y/N? I’d like to show you the room, and do another physical exam to see if you’ve improved since last night.”

The thought of moving hit you with the sudden realization that you needed to fucking pee.

“Is there a bathroom,” you asked, holding your breath from embarrassment. 

“Of course, it’s right here. Let me help you.”

After many whimpers, and groans, and heavy breaths, you were on your feet. Shaking with pain as he led you to the door, you knew that nothing else could have motivated you to walk right now. 

“Do you need help sit–”

“I’ll be fine,” you blurted out, closing the door. 

He’s my doctor. This is fine. He’s helping me because I’m injured, and he’s my doctor.

Those thoughts did not diminish your embarrassment, especially when you did struggle to fucking sit down. 

Gritting your teeth, and clinging to the safety bar, you managed to keep at least some sliver of your dignity by not yelling for him to help you. 

Shame rocked through you as you washed your hands, avoiding looking in the mirror. You didn’t want to know how wrecked you looked. 

But you looked anyway. 

You wanted to splash some water on your face, but couldn’t bend down to do it. 

“Y/N, are you doing alright in there?”

“I’m fine,” you called out as you fought with the ties of the gown. 

Oh my gods, he took all of my fucking clothes off.

That knowledge kicked in again as you tried to make sure every inch of your ass was covered.

“Can you put me to sleep again,” you half joked, taking his hand as he helped you through the door. 

“We don’t want to overdo it,” he said in that serious tone he’s so good at, leading you slowly toward the center of the room.

He sat backwards in that rolling chair. 

But his chair isn’t that color…

“Is this the same room,” you interrupted him, looking around by turning your body instead of your head. You couldn’t tell if the weird sounds you were hearing were real, or if you were just getting a headache from moving around.

“No,” he hummed, nodding slowly at you. “I’m impressed you were able to notice that in this state.” 

You followed the line of his arm as his tattooed finger pointed to a large door. 

“Those are my quarters. I had you moved to an adjacent room so that I can be close if you are in pain, or become injured again. That vent is open so I’ll be able to hear if you need me.”

“O-Oh…”

He shifted his hand again, and you turned to follow it, your eyes a bit wide.

“You already know where your bathroom is. The third door leads out into the corridors of the Polar Tang, but Y/N,” he said, his voice taking on more force, “I request that you refrain from leaving these quarters until you are steadier on your feet. I would hate for you to become injured under my care.”

“But how–”

“Y/N,” he rasped, that low voice pulling you in, “let’s complete the exam before you tire yourself out, alright?”

“Okay.”

“There you go,” he purred, “I love seeing you take care of yourself. Do you consent to me touching you?”

Your ‘yes’ was barely audible as you tried not to let his words, and the way his words sounded with that dangerous voice, make you fall over. 

Feeling his fingers on you might be your favorite thing in the world. Even as you whimpered in pain while he checked along your shoulders and spine. 

“This seems to be the problem area,” he noted, tracing lightly over your left shoulder down between your shoulder blade and spine, rubbing along a few of the vertebrae. 

“But my neck?”

“Everything’s connected, Y/N,” he breathed over your ear, making you shiver and wince. “Don’t worry. I’ll help you learn how your body works.”

Fuck, his voice.

There was no way, no fucking way that you could be dripping wet in a hospital gown while your body was stiff with pain. No way that tight coil of pressure could be building in your core over the only doctor that had ever helped you, ever believed you. 

I can’t fuck this up. 

“Are you feeling alright?”

“Mhm,” you lied, catching yourself before you nodded this time. 

“Let’s have you sit down. We need to take the brace off, so I can examine your neck again. It is going to be painful. Are you ready, or would you like to take a break first?”

~

“Fuck fuck fuckfuckfuck.”

“You are doing so well for me,” Law praised, gently removing the brace to press against your neck, asking you questions while you tried not to move.

How can I like his fingers touching me like this? What is wrong with me?

“Look at you. I’m so proud of how you’re handling this,” he rasped, soothing your whimpers as he secured the brace again.

“When will I be able to go home?”

Law’s jaw shifted a bit as he sat back, and it felt like the air in the room got heavy. 

“As your doctor, I had to make the call to protect your health. We left your island, and my recommendation is that you remain with me for the time being. I think we both realized that one more week of treatment would not be enough support for your chronic condition. This incident with your neck further proves your need to receive continued treatment.”

“Left the– We’re underwater,” you said in a small voice, realizing what the strange clanking sounds in the background must be. 

“You took me away,” you asked softly as your boyfriend’s warnings about Law started playing in your mind.

Fear ran through you then, and the metal room grew smaller, your oxygen growing harder to find. Panic hit your lungs, fast, shallow, useless breaths spiking your neck with pain.

“Y/N,” he drawled, that voice almost frightening now.

“But you were going to be there another week. Why did you take me? Why–”

“Y/N, I will take you back right now if that's what you want,” he soothed, voice warm and inviting. “Please let me explain why I had to make that choice. You weren’t able to make decisions for your own health and safety at the time. As your doctor, I had to do what I believed was best for your wellbeing.”

You stilled, your breath slowing, but staying shallow. That fuzzy distance started to take over, but you dug your nails into your palms to try to focus on what your doctor was saying. 

“Your boyfriend came to the ship in the morning, demanding to take you home.”

The image in your mind built up. That fight. The keys you left in the open door. 

You jolted a bit as Law laid his hand on your clenched fist. 

“He refused to listen when I explained your condition, and that it would be dangerous to move you so soon. He…” Law took in a heavy breath, looking to the ground as he shook his head. When he met your eyes again, his were deep and sad, but etched with kindness. 

“Y/N, your boyfriend accused me of taking advantage of your ‘obsession with being sick.”

Those words were thick like the nausea rising in your throat. 

He did say little things sometimes. Things that made it seem like he didn’t believe me. 

Law’s thumb stroked the back of your fist until you relaxed your hand. He took it in his before continuing with a gentle voice.

“He threatened to return with a group to take you by force. You are my patient, Y/N. I could not in good conscience release you in this current state. I had to make the call since couldn’t.”

That inner distance was coming again, all the sounds feeling washed out. Until he squeezed your hand, leaning in close. 

He smells good. 

“As your doctor, I must always do what is in your best interests. I believe that you should remain here under my care, at least until we have time to make progress with physical therapy. Until you feel safer in your own body.”

Your eyes had to close. It was all too much.

“However, it will always be your decision, Y/N,” he comforted. His voice was smooth, and thick, like some rich dessert. “If you choose to go against my recommendations, I will turn around right now. If you want to go back home, I will take you. All you have to do is tell me what you want.”

A trembling mouth opened, but you had no words to speak. 

“Y/N, I need you to really think about this. Think about what’s best for you.”

Law massaged your hand as he spoke in that liquid voice, a shiver breaking you out of the fog. 

“Where was he, Y/N,” he asked, not pausing for an answer. “You walked all the way here on your own, didn’t you? The amount of pain you were in was frightening, yet you chose to suffer alone. Why didn’t you ask for his help?”

He caught your rush of tears with a tissue, his voice raspy as he came closer to dry your face. 

“Do you want to go back to a place where all the doctors treat you like you’re crazy?”

Years of frustration, anger, and pain fell on you, but you tried to stay present, tried to think straight.

“Do you want to go back to a family that doesn’t believe you? To a partner that believes you’re pretending, that thinks you want to be sick?”

No. You didn’t.

But you tried to let it go, tried to think without emotions. You wanted to shake your head, to move, to fling some of these sickening feelings off of you. 

But you couldn’t move. You were in too much pain. 

And Law is the only person who cares. 

“You know, Y/N, I understand exactly how lonely and angry you must feel.”

He trapped you in the stone wall of his eyes again, and you’d never seen this look on his face before. 

“When I was a child, myself and everyone I knew got sick. They all died.”

“I—“

“Even though I wasn’t contagious, even though I was just a child, every single doctor treated me like I was trash.”

The hand that was holding yours was squeezing tighter while you were frozen by his barely contained rage.

“There was only one person in the world who cared about me,” he muttered, the tension in his shoulders easing a bit.

“He did everything he could to save me. Even when I fought him. Even when I hurt him... He never stopped.”

The overwhelming closeness you’d felt in that metal room was easing, and the heat of tears building in your throat wasn’t for yourself this time.

Law rested his palm against your cheek, and that foggy dream floated through your mind.

“I’m not like all those doctors that abandoned us, that left us to suffer all alone,” he rasped, the twitching of his creasing brows giving you more emotion than you’d seen from him before.

“I will never abandon you, Y/N.”

His promise filled the air, as if this metal room were a ringing bell, the vibrations wracking through your body.

I feel like I should be scared. But why? He’s helping me. No one has ever helped me before. He’s just intense because he knows.

He knows this pain even more than I do. 

Of course he’d do all of this to help me. He’s just helping me.

Law kept his hand on your cheek while he waited for you to think. He didn’t push, just gave you time. You heard the heart rate monitor starting to slow as you breathed with him.

He had taught you to follow his breathing during exercises, and now it felt natural, soothing. 

“I want to stay with you. If you want to help me.”

“Of course I want to help you,” he purred, brushing a few strands from your forehead before stroking his fingers through your mussed up hair.

“I’m your doctor. You can trust me.”

~

“Law?”

“Are you alright,” he answered as he charged through the connecting door.

“I’m fine. Well, the same,” you reported, trying to shift your body up the bed. 

It was getting difficult for you to tell the passage of time underwater, but you knew it had been at least a week.

Your pain was reducing, and your range of motion was improving, but you were still on bed rest unless Law was with you to guide your movements.

“I’m sorry to bother you,” you said, a sheepish grin pulling at your lips. “I’m just… I’m so bored, Law. And if I listen to Bepo’s Uta tone dial one more time, I’m going to go insane.”

That crooked smile made your skin flush as he walked toward you. He started piling pillows onto your lap, gently moving your arms out of the way before propping them up.

“I believe you’ve healed enough to read a book with some support,” he rasped as he brought his fingers to your skin. He pressed lightly against your shoulders, your jaw, and around the edges of the brace. You only winced a little when he stuck his fingers in to check the tightness.

“Although, you’ll need to make sure you’re not straining yourself, so we’ll have to start with short periods of time. Can you do that for me, Y/N?”

“Yes,” you agreed with a smile. It felt like your birthday, finally getting to open and enjoy your presents.

“You like mysteries, right,” he asked as he walked toward the door.

“Oh, uh, yeah.” Your smile wilted just a bit as you tried to recall telling him that.

You hated being so loopy all the time. It felt like you were missing out on parts of your life. 

“This is one of my favorites,” you almost squealed, catching yourself before you wiggled in your hospital gown.

“Really,” he teased as he took it back, flipping through the pages. “I’ll go find you something you haven’t read then.”

“No, please. I love it, thank you.”

“Show me how you’ll be holding it, Y/N.”

Law’s hands on your arms made you crave his massages more than seemed healthy. With your neck as it had been, he wouldn’t risk hurting you. 

You still couldn’t lie flat anyway.

But I’m getting better. Then we can start. He can teach me how to take care of my body. He can touch me again.

Your own thoughts sent blood rushing to your face as you dove in, getting lost in one of your favorite mysteries. 

Even though you knew who the villain was, you always loved the thrill of the chase. 

And you still weren’t sure who you were rooting for. 

Likes and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you so much!

a/n: I'm having so much fun 😈

Tag List: @shewrites02 | @jadeddangel | @metonimia-de-bellota | @3v37773 | @dewdropsandfrogs | @nubigenouss

Part 4

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[ttokilino]

FIRST-LOVE JEONGIN!

first love jeongin headcanons!!

18+ ONLY!

please reblog and follow to be added to my taglist <3

leave an ask or use the reblogs to show some love and request any further posts you wish to see!

RECOMMENDED SONG WHILST READING:

SFW!

first-love-jeongin who isnt the one to ask you out! you actually asked him out as you were sat watching a movie, something you do on a weekly basis cuddled up venting and watching comedies or horror films.

first-love-jeongin who pretends to not be scared of horror films everytime but still jumps, and the 100th time he did so, you let out a gentle laugh of fondness and confessed you found it so cute when he did so, expressing your wish to kiss him everytime you see him lightly pout after the jumpscares.

first-love-jeongin who is shocked and asks if you really mean it, leading to you confessing to him. he immediately gets that cheeky innocent grin he has forming on his face as you hum, leaning in to kiss him.

first-love-jeongin who considers that to be the start of your relationship, although nobody officially asked, as you start seeing each other more and go on dates, holding hands walking through parks or tsking silly photos at photobooths (yes he has one in his wallet of you kissing his cheek. no he wont ever confess that to the boys).

first-love-jeongin who eventually asks you to be his official girlfriend although it was meaningless as you knew you were each others already. he is romantic about it, bringing flowers and a small promise ring to slide onto your finger with such delicate movement.

first-love-jeongin who cherishes you, the time you spend together, and the memories you create through photos of your time together. he wont tell anyone else, but hes a big softie when it comes to you. the boys are a little jealous he shows you affection, but ultimately they know you make him happy and that makes them happy to see their maknae so in love.

first-love-jeongin who gives fleeting kisses when coming or going, holding your hand in his when sitting anywhere, leaning on your shoulder when the day has exhausted him, or attempting to cook you food (he definitely asks minho to help him practice cooking the meal beforehand).

first-love-jeongin who wants you to meet his family after two months, although his younger brother teases him and asks you to help him study cause he hates it although hes good at it, and his older brother takes photos of you both when you dont suspect it, although he will use them for black ail if you dont remind him to delete them after he sends jeongin them.

BONUS!

first-love-jeongin's mother who sees you as the daughter she never had, surprising you with meals, clothes, jewellery or anything that may be your hobby. i imagine his mother would love to spemd time with just you as often as she can, going shopping or getting coffee. she is your second mother, of course.

first-love-jeongin's friends who tease him by headlocking and rubbing his head whenever they catch him admiring you with a fond look on his face, eventually relenting as he whines that theyre just jealous.

first-love-jeongin who loves hugs! and dedicated hug me to you when he decided to write it.

NSFW!

first-love-jeongin who isnt your first time, but you are his. this leads to you guiding him the first time and helping him find his confidence, explaining what makes you tick and squirm as he experiments, having free range of your body.

first-love-jeongin who enjoys seeing the light marks after kissing your neck too much (bonus if he was wearing lip tint), or seeing the slight crescent shapes in your hips from his nails after getting too lost in the pleasure.

first-love-jeongin who enjoys seeing you in dark lingerie, black, red, grey, or anything with rose patterns. he especially loves a set thst resembles the flowers he bought you when asking you to be his.

first-love-jeongin who eventually is more teasing and relentlessly, purposely bringing you to the edge to pull off and makeout with you until youre furthermore left breathless.

first-love-jeongin who definitely is a giver rather than a receiver. whilst he loves seeing you crawl up his legs to make his cock feel the most exquisite pleasure, he definitely prefers his head being buried between your thighs, your hair tugging as your nails scratch lightly at his scalp, eliciting moans from him that go straight through you.

first-love-jeongin who loves your breathy whimpers, therefore he experiments with pressing down lightly on your neck during makeouts, realising you loved it as he came to realise you loved his big hands on your body.

first-love-jeongin who will absolutely spank your ass from behind if thats the position you crave, enjoying the feeling of your velvet walls suffocating his cock whenever he does.

first-love-jeongin who loves any and all positions, but ultimately enjoys when youre both in the shower, hair soaked with the mist of the heat from the water steaming the glass panels, pressing you against it. (bonus points if he records from outside the shower to watch alter when getting off, enjoying seeing your tits pressed against the glass, suffocating the poor panel).

BONUS!

first-love-jeongin who loves red. by this, i mean he will absolutely die if you suggest red wax to be used the next time you land in this predicament. and boy, does he love the way the wax trickles slowly down your chest to your stomach before hardening. or even better, pouring it over your ass gently before you ride him, watching pieces of the wax break off each time your ass hits his thighs, eliciting moans from the boy.

first-love jeongin who will definitely use your pretty red lipstick to write his name across your lower stomach, watching in admiration as he draws a heart before smudging it ever so slightly as he pounds into you.

first-love-jeongin who enjoys filming your times together. however, he does it on a camera or phone that you share. you keep it hidden in a place only you both know, and it is filled with the filthiest videos and photos you two have ever taken during your relationship. from your first time being gentle, to the most recent of you quite literally melted into the sheets surrounding in red, red, red. (bonus if the phon or phonecase is red, this colour being your sign.)

first-love-jeongin who knows your sign to each other that you are willing and consenting, as well as verbak confirmation before getting into it, is wearing a necklace with a red gem at the end.

MASTERLIST:- [HERE]

taglist: @hnnnne @isakkaye @flylis @nenesz @linoveins @xx3rachaslutxx @adestayskz @sailorkoss @emmaluvsjisung @mjailene15 @shadowhunterathene @manuosorioh @linocvp1d @sunshineskz00

[theshippirate22]

I have a theory

listen up bitches (gender neutral) (affectionate) i’ve been cooking this for an incredibly long time and i’m very very excited to share it but it is gonna be long so i’m putting it under a cut

my theory is that there has been a new set of archetypes created by popular m/m media either in canon or coding and i would love if it was more widely recognized by a distinct name so here we go:

I present to you: The Mirrorball x Running Up That Hill Boyfriends™️ Theory

i need to preface this by saying that i am absolutely not an english major or expert but i have done so much analysis that i’m 98% positive i’m on to something here

so usually mlm ships- at least in my experience- get boiled down into typical Grumpy x Sunshine, Golden Retriever x Black Cat, or like. Babygirl x Badass. and i hate that because those are like really watered down hetero romance stereotypes and i think queer people deserve to get our own archetypes instead of trying to force queer characters into prepaid boxes but that’s a story for another day so:

basically, all content with widely accepted mlm ships (even if they are more in coding than in canon) has this pattern with the ship that fits into Mirrorball x Running Up That Hill

(name pending- open to suggestions)

Boyfriend No.1 of course is the epitome of Mirrorball by Taylor Swift (i know, i know. bear with me here). He’s constantly trying to prove himself and his worth and usually he’s driven to hide or overcome 1-3 specific and intense insecurities/character flaws. He often has innate loyalty to a system or person who has repeatedly abused/neglected/abandoned him and thinks that this treatment is a result of his own character rather than a reflection of the abuser. In relation to the plot and audience, this is the “more dangerous” of the two because he’s so desperate to hold onto the status quo that he’ll often act in a way that makes things more difficult for himself, often by leaving Boyfriend No. 2, sacrificing himself, or doing “the wrong thing.” He also commonly has an older male figure that is breathing down his neck constantly, haunting his perceived inadequacies, and fueling his self-loathing. He’s constantly mischaracterized because he’s either boiled down to “the silly one” or a visage of his trauma and the people that relate to love these characters are usually extremely sad people. Usually this character is also the “mean girl” of the couple.

Examples of the Mirrorball boyfriend: Dean Winchester, Aziraphale, Stede Bonnet, Lucius Spriggs, Sherlock Holmes, Eddie Munson, Mike Wheeler, Prince Rupert, etc.

Boyfriend No. 2 then, is the Running Up That Hill Boyfriend, based of course, on the song by the same name by the perfect Kate Bush. He’s the one that’s seen The Horrors™️ and gained a layer of cynicism that Mirrorball doesn’t have. He was once loyal to something that used/hurt him but he rejected it and used his newfound freedom to restructure his entire personality and reach his much higher potential. Usually, he has passed so far from having a few insecurities to perceiving himself as utterly worthless and unlovable but he’s so convinced that it doesn’t even haunt him, he just goes with it and usually comes off looking overly-confident or cocky. This is The Bitch (affectionate)™️. There’s probably a scene of him covered in blood. This is The Girls’ favorite blorbo and ultimate whump. He tends to be really good with kids and he’s the kind of character that would and often has to CLAW a life out for himself by his fingernails.

Examples of the Running Up That Hill Boyfriend: Castiel, Crowley, Ed Teach, Black Pete, John Watson, Steve Harrington, Will Byers, Prince Amir, etc.

unfortunately i haven’t seen a lot of popular queer stuff so if you can think of other mlm or mlm shaped characters that fit into these archetypes please please please tell me

i’m specifically curious about:

-Hannigram (Hannibal)

-Buddy (911) (@criminally-obsessed if you would mind weighing in but obviously no pressure)

-Lokius (Loki) (@henderdads same thing)

-Any of the marauders but specifically WolfStar

-Stucky (MCU)

-RWRB (i’m so sorry i don’t remember the guys’ names)

-Nick and Charlie (Heartstopper)

-What We Do In the Shadows has one I think?

-literally anyone else please and thank you 🙏🙏 love you all

if you want like explicit examples of each piece for a character lmk for sure because i could talk about this all day long

[7-wonders]

Requiem

Michael Langdon x Reader (Mad Love Act II, Chapter XVI)

Summary: It's all led to this, and now, you have to face off against Michael to get your world back.

Word Count: 6.3k

A note from the author: This chapter is so, so dark. Sorry? Also, this chapter relies a lot on the she/her pronouns this story was first started with btw. (more notes at the end)

I noticed when posting this that it looks like the previous chapter didn't load a lot of tags. If you got tagged in this and are like "wait how did we get to the fight already?" you missed the last chapter! Click on the Mad Love Masterlist to read Chapter 35. :)

Content warnings for this chapter include graphic depictions of injury and death. Reader discretion is advised.

Mad Love Masterlist

Mallory warned you prior to leaving your room that the residents of Outpost 3 were all dead, murdered at the hands of Ms. Venable and her poisoned apples (you try not to dwell on your own poisoned apple experience). All the preparation in the world doesn’t prepare you for the shock of seeing two dead bodies, those of Coco and Dinah, in the large foyer of the Outpost. Shock turns to revulsion as one of Mallory’s friends and other witches yanks a knife out of Coco’s skull with little more than a wince. When she stands, she points the knife at you.

“She gonna help us?” she asks warily.

“She is.” Mallory turns to you, pointing first to the woman with the knife and next to another woman standing near the stairs. “This is Queenie and Zoe.”

You wave sheepishly. “It’s nice to meet you two.”

Zoe smiles kindly, but Queenie just appraises you with a look that says she doesn’t trust you. You can’t say that you blame her, though you wish she didn’t have a reason for this reaction. Mallory leaves your side to kneel in between the two dead women, and you watch as she takes a deep breath and breathes out onto Coco’s face before repeating her movements with Dinah.

It takes mere seconds for the two to shoot up, gasping for air and trying to get used to once again inhabiting a body.

“Welcome back,” Mallory says.

“What just happened?” Coco asks, her elaborate hairdo impressively staying put after all of that.

“You died. And now, you’re no longer dead.”

“Oh.” She frowns, rubbing at the spot where a knife sat moments ago. “Fuck, that sucked.”

“Are you going to explain why you tore us from our afterlives?” Dinah snaps, standing up.

“It’s time to fix this entire mess. To defeat Michael, we need all the help we can get.” Mallory eyes Dinah specifically. “From both of you.”

“You’re on your own with that shit,” Dinah declares. “I’m not here to defeat anyone.”

Maybe it’s not your place, but you feel like you can help to convince Dinah. You take a step toward here. “Please, I really think that—”

“How can any of you defeat me, when I’ve already won?” A voice, so familiar to you that it could be your own, comes from the stairs.

You almost don’t want to look at him. If you don’t, maybe you can remain in this stasis where you’re simply preparing to undo the apocalypse, instead of being faced with the reality that you’re about to fight your own husband, the man who, despite all of the horrors he’s committed, remains your love. When you do tear your eyes away from Dinah, you see that he’s not even taking notice of your presence. No, he only has hate-filled eyes for the Supreme.

Michael’s changed into a blood-red jacket, which makes it obvious that he was expecting this showdown to happen. Ms. Mead stands off to his left side, ever the small, imposing bodyguard. Mallory steps forward, along with most of the group. You can’t bring your feet to move, so you remain back with Dinah.

“You haven’t won,” Mallory says. 

“Perhaps you haven’t noticed the state of the world.”

Queenie scoffs. “At least the world can be saved. Unlike your bitch ass.”

Michael smirks proudly. “The seventh seal has been broken. Wormwood has fallen from the sky and turned the rivers to blood and fire. The bottomless pit has been opened and my swarms of locusts and scorpions have ravaged humanity. The world has been remade in my father’s image.”

When he speaks like this, of biblical imagery and prophecy, he turns into a person you don’t care to know. He turns into the Antichrist.

“Almost.” Mallory smiles. “Pretty sure he didn’t imagine a world where there were still witches, so you failed there.”

Michael finally takes in the full group, and his haughty demeanor falters when he sees you. Softly, he utters your name. “What are you doing?”

You swallow thickly, willing your voice not to shake. “I think you know.”

“I do. You’re going to betray me?

Mallory tries to grab your arm as you move in front of her, but you can’t be stopped now. “This is not betrayal. I’m doing this because I love you, and I can’t bear to be faced with the monster that you’ve become any longer. Now, we have a chance to save the world, Michael. Help me undo this mess.”

“Michael,” Mallory gets his attention once more. “Your father never commanded you to end the world in this way. Jeff and Mutt, the two that ran Kineros, were the ones who thought a nuclear apocalypse was the solution. They controlled Ms. Mead and gave her the commands to tell you that this was Satan’s plan. Satan was just happy to take credit when he realized that you were going to cause anarchy.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Michael says.

“Is it? They told me so themselves, when I went to Kineros to ensure that Coco would be in this Outpost.”

He rolls his eyes. “This is such an obvious lie, I’m a little offended that you would think I’d fall for it. Right, Ms. Mead?”

Michael looks to his left, expecting to be backed up, only to see Ms. Mead with a look of bewildered shame on her face.

“Ms. Mead?”

“They—I do as I’m programmed,” she stutters. 

You gasp at the revelation. Satan didn’t come up with the plan to end the world like this? All of this could have been avoided?

Instead of being faced with the same reckoning, a look of absolute murder appears on his face. “I’m going to do what I should have done that day in the Murder House and kill you all personally.”

“Mallory,” Dinah calls, walking towards the Supreme. “You raised me from the dead so that you would have the power of voodoo on your side. But if you know anything about who I am, you know that the only choice I’d pick would be the winner.”

She comes to a stop just before the stairs, bowing her head respectfully. Michael raises a hand out to her, ready to welcome another acolyte. You throw Mallory a panicked look, but she’s barely holding back glee.

“You’re half-right, Dinah,” she admits.

“She needed the help of a powerful voodoo queen,” a deep Southern voice says. You turn and watch as a tall woman with long braids struts up to Dinah. “But that ain’t you, sis .”

“The former Voodoo Queen, Marie Laveau,” Mallory whispers into your ear.

“To release me from hell, Mallory promised Papa Legba the darkest and most corrupt voodoo queen’s soul for mine. You’ll serve him well in my place.”

“You’re a fool, Marie Laveau,” Dinah spits. “You would have done no different if you were queen.”

“No!” Marie says, before disappearing in a puff. 

Not even a second later, she reappears behind Dinah wielding a machete. When Dinah turns to face her, Marie brings the machete down in one swing on her throat. Dinah gasps and screams as blood begins to gush out of her neck, falling to the floor and bleeding out in a matter of seconds. Nobody else seems to be affected by this, but you feel a little faint, and you hold onto Mallory’s arm to keep from collapsing.

“Out with the trash!” Marie declares. “Give Papa my regards.”

Michael, apparently having enough of this, nods to Ms. Mead. The android removes her hand to reveal a machine gun hidden underneath it. Though you want to say something along the lines of, “What the actual fuck?” Zoe says a word in what you assume to be Latin before you can.

Instead of shooting, Ms. Mead begins to shake and whir mechanically. Mallory uses Michael’s confusion to usher everybody back towards the open fire, where you watch as Ms. Mead explodes and sends Michael flying over the railing. He lands harshly on the floor below, staring in horror at Ms. Mead’s head next to him.

It’s only a matter of time until his horror turns to rage, and Queenie scrambles forward to grab Ms. Mead’s machine gun hand. When Michael rises, she rises with him, gun trained on his chest.

“Sorry about your little toy,” Queenie says before placing her finger on the trigger.

Michael turns to be met with a firestorm of bullets, more than enough to kill even the Antichrist. You scream in horror at the sight, his blood spattering against the wall as he falls and comes to rest against it, very obviously dead.

“Michael!” You try to stand, wanting to save him even though he probably (definitely) deserves what’s just happened to him. Before you can, Mallory pulls you to her.

“This won’t keep him down,” she assures you. “He’s too powerful to be truly killed. But this will buy us time.”

Though you don’t know if you believe her, you need to in order to keep from emotionally collapsing, so you nod. 

Queenie walks to Michael’s body, kicking his foot as she checks to make sure he’s dead…for now, at least. “Do we need his hair or something for this? Because I’m more than happy to rip off a chunk of it.”

“No. The spell only requires that we have something personal of his.” Mallory smiles at you. “And we have the most important person in his life here with us. As long as you’re still in?”

You force yourself to look away from Michael, closing your eyes and taking a couple of deep breaths to recenter yourself. Finally, you look at her again. “Of course, I’m still in.”

“Good. Have you picked a time that will work to stop him?”

“I think so,” you confirm. After some internal deliberation, you think that the best way to get through to him is going to be when you had the big fight about the poisoned apple, before you stormed out and got yourself kidnapped by the witches. He wasn’t too powerful or too far gone with his father’s plan yet, but you were both in love with each other—albeit, you hadn’t actually realized it at that point.

“Alright. I’ll need you to focus on that, okay? Then I’ll say the spell, and we’ll be able to go back in time. We just need somewhere safe to cast the spell, somewhere with a large tub we can fill with water.”

You definitely found a room like that when you were exploring the Outpost your first couple of days here. “Okay. Follow me.”

Everybody stands, but hesitates when they remember the issue of Michael. If he’s going to come back to life like Mallory says, shouldn’t there be some safety measure in place to buy you more time?

Queenie sighs and rolls her eyes, realizing that she should probably be that safety measure. “Go,” she urges, readjusting her grip on the gun to ensure she’ll be quick to the trigger when Michael rises again.

Mallory darts forward to hug her quickly. “Thank you.”

“Enough with the sappy shit.” Even as she says that, you can see the affection in her eyes when she looks at Mallory. “Go!”

You do as she says and hurry up the stairs. Before you turn the corner, you allow yourself a moment to meet Michael’s open, lifeless gaze.

The hallways are much less of a maze than they were when you first arrived here, but the layout is still unfamiliar to you. After leading your group down what you thought was going to lead to the door you were sure contained the room with the tub, you’re met with a dead end. 

Sheepishly, you look over your shoulder at Coco. “I think I’m a little lost. Isn’t there a room with a really large washtub for laundry around here?”

Her eyes light up, and she lightly pushes you to keep you moving.  “Yes! We’re super close.” It’s going to take a bit to get used to her actually being helpful, you think as you follow her directions. “We’re going to go down this hallway here. Now, the weird little junction up ahead? Take a left and then it’s the third door on the right.”

Now you know where you are. “Thank you! I found it my first time going through the Outpost, but I haven’t lived here for eighteen months like you.”

You’re just about to turn left at the junction when a man appears from the other side of the hallway, jabbing a knife into your abdomen before you can even be surprised at the sight. You cry out, the pain sharp and sudden as he pulls the knife out of you with nothing but malice on his face. When he looks up at you, his scowl is replaced by a horrified shock.

“Oh my god, I thought you were—” He sees Coco, standing just behind you. “She was supposed to be you !”

Your shaking hands try to press down on the wound, but blood rushes out through your fingers, and your knees go weak as you crash into the wall. Down the hall, you can hear Mallory scream your name. She runs for you with Zoe hot on her heels.

“What the fuck did you do?” Mallory yells to the man, landing next to you on the floor and gently pulling your hands away so that she can assess the damage. By the way her lips start to tremble, you assume it’s not good.

The man that stabbed you ignores her, instead focusing on Coco. “You ruin everything!” he yells at her, lifting the knife once more.

Coco pushes him over the railing before he can do any more damage. He screams the whole way down, and Coco peers after him. “Sorry?” she calls with a grimace, no love apparently lost.

“This is…a lot of blood,” you note, watching your black dress becoming even darker from the rapidly expanding bloodstain. You’re also in a lot of pain. Fuck, you didn’t think being stabbed would hurt so much.

“It’s okay! It’s alright!” Mallory soothes; you can’t tell who she’s reassuring, herself or you. “I’m going to fix this. I’m going to—I’ll heal you, and then you’ll be fine.”

Your heart is pounding from a mixture of fear and adrenaline. For the first time since your arrival to this Outpost, you’re truly scared. This is a different fear from when you were worried about Emily and Timothy being executed, or when you realized that Michael wanted to have a child with you. It’s even different from the fear of knowing that you and Michael would be on opposing sides now. This is primal—this is terror.

Mallory’s hands hover over your abdomen as she begins to chant in Latin, eyes screwed shut in concentration. Nothing happens, and as the seconds tick by, your entire body starts to go cold. It’s like somebody’s taken a syringe of ice water and injected it right into your veins. You become more faint than before, and decide that laying flat will probably be the best way to rid yourself of this feeling.

“Why isn’t this working?” Mallory cries in frustration, catching your head and placing it in her lap. Tears begin to build in her eyes as she tries the same breathing technique on you as she did Coco and Dinah to bring them back to life, to no avail. You cough wetly, and when you wipe your mouth, your hand comes away red.

The realization hits you then: you’re dying. The overpowering cold, being unable to sit up anymore, the faintness—your body is beginning to shut down against your will.

“Mallory, I’m scared,” you admit.

“I know. I’m sorry. I promise I’m trying.”

“I know.” You smile at the repetition even as you begin to feel so, so tired. Maybe if you close your eyes and rest for a moment, you’ll be able to get enough strength back to help you fight to stay alive.

Your eyes barely close before Mallory starts shaking you. “No, no, please don’t close your eyes!”

Marie Laveau appears at the far end of the hallway you first ran down and yells something to Mallory, but you can’t quite make out what she says over the rushing in your ears. Mallory takes one of your arms and Zoe takes the other, both working together to pull you down the hallway. You watch dizzily as Coco runs to Marie, your vision warping as the two disappear around the corner.

Mallory continues trying to heal you once they have you in the room where you’re meant to go back in time. Her hand, soaked in your blood, runs over your forehead comfortingly as she becomes more frantic in her chanting. Even Zoe tries to help, pressing down on your abdomen in the hopes of slowing the bleeding as she joins Mallory in spellwork. It’s becoming more difficult to hold on as you become weaker, the two taking turns making you open your eyes again.

“Please, please, please,” Mallory begs any and all forces beyond her power that might be listening.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, the effort to produce sounds near herculean.

“Don’t apologize,” she says sternly through tears, earning the smallest of laughs from you.

“Yes, ma’am.” Your hands shake as you feel around for Mallory’s, and you weakly squeeze when you find them. “I love you, Mal. I’m so happy I got to see you again.”

“Stop saying goodbye. I’m going to bring you back, this isn’t goodbye.”

For now, though, it is, and you both know it. When your eyes close this time, they don’t open again, and you feel yourself being dragged down, down, down, away from consciousness and life itself.

With your last remaining strength, you become introspective. You have so many regrets, so many words that you’re going to leave unsaid. You wish you had gotten the chance to actually complete the spell and go back in time, sure that you would have been able to change Michael’s mind. You want to thank Queenie and Zoe and Coco and Marie for their help, for believing that you can help fix the mess the world has become. You wish you could—

•••

Michael has had enough of witches on this Earth, he thinks as he blows Queenie’s head clean off her shoulders after coming back to life. She had been distracted by a body falling from two floors up—whose body it was remained a mystery that Michael didn’t care to solve—providing Michael the element of surprise. Even if she were still prepared, it wouldn’t have mattered. He’s too powerful for anything to stop him now.

Maybe he was naive to believe that a simple nuclear bomb or two could kill them. No, he was definitely naive. After all, Mallory knew that the world would be ending, and soon. That was more than enough time for her to gather her chosen forces and figure out a way to survive. He knows now that his path, the one that Satan had created before he had even created Michael, was always meant to lead to this. In order to truly inherit this new world and rule Hell on Earth, he must eradicate the remaining witches with his own hands.

But what to do with you? You’ve chosen your side for this battle, and it’s not his. He nervously hopes that you’re simply mad at him after how your last conversation devolved into a fight, that Mallory reached you at a vulnerable time and used that to her advantage to recruit you. Once he defeats the witches, you’ll come back to him and he’ll concede that he was perhaps wrong to bring up the idea of having a child at such an intimate moment. Still, seeing you standing in solidarity with the witches hurt, which is likely what the Supreme was planning.

When Michael makes it up the stairs, the reanimated voodoo queen blocks the hallway that he knows you and the witches have gone down. Grabbing a pouch off of her belt, she pours a powder into her hand and spreads it in a line in front of her with a chant.

“You shall not pass,” Marie declares with a smirk, wiping her hands of the powder. Michael juts his hand forward, prepared to rip her heart out of her chest, but an invisible barrier stops him. “You’re dealing with the HBIC now.”

He smiles ruefully. “Clever,” he admits. “Normally, that would work.”

He’s about to show that voodoo magic is no match for him anymore when his blood runs cold and his heart drops. At that same moment, he becomes aware of sobbing coming from far behind Marie. Though Michael’s never felt anything like this before, he can feel the certainty of what it means down to his very core: something’s happened. Specifically, something’s happened to you.

“Let me through,” he demands. Marie falters, taken aback at the fear in his eyes. “Marie Laveau, if you value your second chance at life you’ll let me through.”

She recovers from her hesitation with a haughty laugh. “Nice try.” 

Michael makes quick work of her with a simple snap of his fingers, snapping her neck and sending her right back to the Underworld. He’s just about to clear the barrier and figure out just what is going on when he feels a presence behind him. Rolling his eyes, he turns around to face this distraction as well and comes face to face with Coco St. Pierre Vanderbilt, who was with you when he was shot. Surely she must know something about what’s going on.

“What’s happened?” Michael asks. The knife that Coco was prepared to stab him with goes limp in her wrist, and she gapes at him. “Where’s Y/n?”

“She was…Brock…” She weakly mimes a stabbing motion.

“No.” He feels sick at the mere implication. “No!”

Coco now the least of his worries, he runs down the hallway, the whole time hoping that it’s a mistake, that Coco misinterpreted what she saw, that the cold emptiness now residing in his chest is simply a fluke. The sobs that become more clear as he nears the entryway, however, don’t do much to reassure him.

“Mallory!” Michael gasps. 

The Supreme is on the floor with you in her lap, and for a moment, Michael can delude himself into thinking that you’re okay. The excessive amount of blood on the floor—your blood—and the unnaturally limp way that your hand is lying force him to face the obvious. Michael’s knees give out, and he falls to the floor harshly.

Mallory looks up at him, forgetting that they’re meant to be enemies right now. “She got stabbed, and—” a sob rips from her chest, “my healing spells aren’t working. And neither is Vitalum Vitalis. It should be working, Michael, I’m the fucking Supreme.”

“Okay. Um, let me…” Michael’s brain is fighting a war between shutting down from the agony of this situation and kicking into overdrive to figure out how to get you back. After a moment, he thinks he might have an idea. He tries to pull you out of Mallory’s arms and into his own, but she refuses to loosen her hold on you. “Mallory, I need to hold her.”

While he does need to be able to touch you for the spell, he’s not really asking for that purpose. He feels that he might soon lose his grasp on sanity if he can’t hold your body. No, he needs you as close to him as possible, to try and capture the warmth of your body so that he might remind himself that you’ve only just left, that he can still get you back. Begrudgingly, Mallory allows him to hold you, but she still keeps one of your hands in hers.

He’d like to say that it looks like you’re sleeping, comforting himself with the platitude most mourners claim upon seeing a body. He’d be lying, though, because he knows what you look like when you’re sleeping. The way that your face scrunches at the smallest sensation, how your eyes move under their lids and your mouth forms silent words when you’re dreaming particularly deeply, the intermittent light snoring that you swear you don’t do. If you were simply sleeping, he’d play the prince to your Sleeping Beauty and wake you with a kiss, revealing your amused smile and your fond gaze.

Now, there’s none of that. You’ve been dead for mere minutes, but already the signs of death are here. Your face is as slack as all of your muscles now are, making your cheekbones more prominent and your mouth hinge slightly open. A sallowness has started to take over your skin, and he finds himself tracing the apples of your cheeks in a futile attempt to coax blood back to the surface. He even swears that he can feel your body growing colder, just like he feared.

It takes Michael some time to remember what he’s meant to be doing. All of this grief and pain will hopefully be for nothing, so long as he can hold himself together for a little bit longer. He takes a deep breath, hesitating for a moment before dropping his forehead against yours. Tears are threatening to fall, and when he closes his eyes to try and hold them back, it only hastens their arrival. They roll, hot and thick, off of his face and onto yours, and he wipes them off with a silent apology.

Finally, Michael slips into a dissociation as he begins to walk between the realms of living and dead. He’s done this more than a few times now for varying reasons, becoming pretty adept at finding a soul and bringing it back to the living plane. The hardest part by far is always calming his mind enough to be able to attempt this in the first place; the fact that he’s been able to achieve it in this circumstance is a small miracle. 

Now that he’s in the so-called in-between, he begins his search. Every single soul has a signature to it, so as long as he knows who he’s looking for, he usually finds the rest of this process to be pretty straightforward. Since your soul is so near and dear to him, he’s expecting this to take a couple of minutes at most.

A minute passes, then another, as he tries to track your soul down. Michael begins to grow concerned; considering you just died, he shouldn’t be having to search this hard. There’s a complete lack of you anywhere, and he begins to shake as he’s faced with the increasingly likely potential that your soul is gone. But how? Why? With a chilling clarity, he knows exactly what’s happened.

His father has become displeased. Whether he’s had enough of your and Michael’s collective disobedience over the years—Satan holds a grudge like no other, after all—or your declaration that you would never bear Michael’s child or be the perfect wife that Satan had planned for you to be. He’s had enough, and now, he’s taken this opportunity to make good on the threats he first warned Michael about during the poison apple saga. He’s made sure that you’re out of the picture for good. If Michael knows Satan, he’s probably already picked out some girl back at the Sanctuary to be wife number two, and this time, she would be the most devout, demure Satanist who would never even think of going against Satan’s will.

But Michael doesn’t want another wife. No, what he wants is to lay here on the floor and die right along with you, following you into whatever afterlife you’ve found yourself in in the hopes that he can continue to love you there. How can he ever be expected to love another person that’s not you? What kind of a life is there for him to live if you’re not here to share in it?

“Is everything okay?” Mallory asks, reminding him that there’s another person in this room, one who’s going to feel her own devastation at this news.

“I can’t find her. My father…” He chokes on his own words, unable to actually say the fate that’s befallen you. Instead, he can only cry.

Mallory picks up on the context clues, and her face drops. “So that’s it? She’s gone?”

The nod Michael gives her is the most painful movement of his life. When Mallory collapses, he also forgets the pretense of enemies and allows her to fall against him. It’s mainly for his own benefit—were he not using Mallory for support, he would be in a heap on top of you.

They remain without words for a while. Distantly, he’s aware of Zoe talking to Coco down that damned hall, the two wondering what to do now. He hopes that they come up with an answer, because he has no clue. In his opinion, there’s nowhere else to go from here. Though he may not have physically died, his life has ended along with yours in this room.

“Were you telling the truth?” Michael asks finally, making Mallory look up. “About Jeff and Mutt?”

He almost doesn’t want to know, but before he can change his mind, she nods. “All they cared about were themselves. They were fed up with minor inconveniences—having to wait for coffee, traffic woes—and wanted to ‘wipe the slate clean.’ They thought that they could reshape the world to how they wanted, and they used a vulnerable Antichrist to do so. Ms. Mead changed her tune from magic to fire and blood because Jeff and Mutt were feeding her the commands.”

He so badly wants her to be lying, but even if he couldn’t sense her truthfulness, he has his own memories to rely on. How suddenly Ms. Mead suggested that world destruction was preferred to world domination (and that the two cokehead idiots would be the guys to talk to about that) had always seemed a little odd to him, but he simply went along with it, believing Ms. Mead to still be his trusted advisor. This revelation simply makes Michael cry harder until he’s almost matching Mallory’s earlier sobs. She puts her free hand on his shoulder in comfort. Though he appreciates the gesture, nothing can bring him comfort.

All of this pain and death and destruction has been for naught. Michael spent years chasing his father’s approval and doing terrible things, things that made him so sick to think about that he forced himself to compartmentalize them in order to not drown in his shame. He’s shirked friends, love, and basic morals, only to find out that his father didn’t even care if the world ended this way. No, all Satan wanted was power and sin, which he got in spades these past eighteen months. 

“How were you going to stop me?” he asks.

Mallory hesitates. “We…we were going to go back in time. There’s a spell that I found when searching through the coven’s grimoires to help with your Cordelia issue. I practiced it a few times before the bombs dropped, trying to figure out the right way to do it. Y/n was going to be both your personal tie and the one convincing you to stop the apocalypse. She had a time in place where she thought that you would be most willing to listen, to change your mind.”

It’s a smart plan, and it probably would have worked. After all, you likely know (knew, he’s reminded harshly) him better than he knows himself. As he thinks about the what-ifs, Michael realizes that this doesn’t have to be something that never happens.

“So, if you and I were to go back in time together, then we could change all of this?” Michael asks.

Mallory gapes at him. “You’re willing to give all this up?”

“What, this empty, decimated kingdom that I don’t even want?” 

In the eighteen months since the apocalypse, Michael had found that he was not suited for being a ruler—he didn’t like the pomp and circumstance, nor did he like people fawning over him. Still, he pretended to be the cold, uncaring king of this “New World,” because he thought that was what Satan wanted, that he was fulfilling the destiny that he was born to.

Now, there’s nothing left to fight for. The world didn’t even need to be ended, let alone in this way. He’s been nothing but a pawn to people his whole life—the Satanists, the warlocks, the stupid fucks that ran Kineros, even Satan himself. He’s done. Done with this stupid, useless path he’s taken, done with hurting everything and everyone, and done with bowing to the whims of anybody.

After all, what has he got to show for any of this? He’s been a good little soldier, doing unspeakably horrific acts and acting like he wasn’t affected, like he wasn’t the Michael that he was before the apocalypse. How did Satan reward him? By ensuring that he would never get back the one person in his life that he has ever truly loved, and who had ever truly loved him. 

“I can’t—I can’t live a life without Y/n. There is nothing without her. What do I need to do to help you?”

“Promise me,” she says. “Promise me that you will not use this second chance to end the world once again.”

“I just found out I ended the world for no reason, Mallory. A world that I was slowly coming to love, before Cordelia informed me that I needed to speed up the apocalypse plans I had been led to believe were created by my father. Before I was upset by people trying to convince me that blowing everything up was a bad idea.” Because of course, Satan would take credit for those plans if it meant that he would be closer to getting the complete chaos it would create. “Why would I try to end it again?”

Mallory searches his face for a moment before nodding. “I believe you.” 

She’s known him for long enough now to know his tells, and she sees none of them. Right now, he’s too much of a wreck to even consider trying to lie, not that he was planning on it.

Mallory slowly stands, but not before kissing the back of your hand and laying it gently on your chest. “Come on.”

“I’m sorry,” Michael whispers to you, kissing your forehead. “I’m so, so sorry. I’m going to make this right.”

It takes strength he didn’t know he possessed to lay you down and let go of your body. Even as he walks away, going against every instinct and leaving you on the floor, he can’t take his eyes off of you.

Mallory climbs into the large washtub in the corner of the room, flicking her wrist and filling it with water. Michael follows her in, ignoring the uncomfortable sensation of sitting in wet clothes.

“Think of a time that you believe it will be easiest to completely stop the apocalypse before it goes too far,” she instructs.

There are many times in the past two years that Michael can see as a good time to stop the apocalypse. First, he’s tempted to go back to the beginning of this mess, when the witches killed Ms. Mead. Plans for the end of the world hadn’t even been drawn up yet, and he would have the added benefit of having Ms. Mead back. Plus, you wouldn’t have gone through the trauma of being kidnapped and forced to be the Antichrist’s bride.

It’s incredibly selfish, but the more Michael thinks about that avenue, the less he wants to take it. While it’s unfortunate how you came to know each other, he wouldn’t trade the way that you and he fell in love with each other for anything. But on the practical side, he wouldn’t have the influence that he has over important people and organizations were he to go back that far, and he needs that if he’s going to have enough power to keep the world from ending altogether. That’s off the table, then.

He wishes that you had told Mallory of your idea before being fatally wounded, because he probably would have agreed with your assessment. If it was any time after you moved in with him, he was already so in love with you that he could easily be swayed. What makes the most sense?

Finally, Michael has it. The time where he can be most effective at changing the fate of the world and ensuring there will not be an apocalypse by his hand, can remain powerful enough to not be usurped as Antichrist (for he’s sure that Satan will be very displeased by the change of plans if he finds out about Michael changing fate), and can still have you.

He opens his eyes and nods. “I have it.”

“Okay,” Mallory says with a hopeful smile. “Focus on that as hard as you can, place us both there.”

It’s all he can think about now, but he does as she says and recreates that time in his head. The sights, the sounds, the smells. How your hand felt in his, and the brightness of your smile. The possibilities that, at that time, seemed endless. Mallory holds her hands out and Michael takes them, feeling their magic bouncing off of each other like sparks from two exposed wires.

“Balneum infinitum. Dona salui conductus.” Mallory repeats the chant two more times, the water bubbling around them furiously and turning darker with each word.

Michael knows even without Mallory’s instruction that he’s needed to say the last part of the spell, and what that last part is. Just before they submerge themselves under the water, their voices join together to cast the most important spell of their lives.

“Tempus Infinituum.”

•••

Endnotes: Wow. I thought this would be a particularly tough chapter to write, but as I got going, the story flowed easily. I think because I've had this scene stuck in my head for so long! My FBI agent is definitely concerned by how thoroughly I read those "what happens to a body after a person dies" articles.

ALSO the Jeff and Mutt thing is canon!

Anyways, I'm gonna go watch some cute animal videos to feel better. Take care of yourselves, alright?

@ajokeformur-ray @iamavailablesstuff @narwhal-swimmingintheocean @nsainmoonchild @redroses07

@xo-angel-ox @littleangel4996 @iamlivingforturner @thatonehumanbeing05

@codycrazy @love-on-the-murder-scene

[a-court-of-mischief-and-madness]

Midnight revelations

Part 3--------Part 4

Summary: her wings had vanished ever since that night with the horrors encountered with tamlins father, only a person she feels true desire and passion for can invoke those wings. What happens when the person who does that is non other than eris vanserra?

Note: what's up guys, hope all of you are enjoying this series so far. If you have any suggestions for the next few chapters.. dw my requests are open!!! So ask awayy. Also if you want to enter the taglist please comment and let me now xx

Warnings: slight smut, romance, mentions of kissing!, angst and mentions of blood

As you stepped out of your room, the familiar corridors of the House of Wind stretched out before you, bathed in the soft glow of candlelight. The events of the evening still weighed heavily on your mind, leaving you lost in thought as you made your way through the labyrinthine halls.

Lost in contemplation, you barely noticed the subtle shift in the air as you approached Amren's chambers. Her voice, sharp and commanding, pierced through your head, calling you to her side with an urgency that left no room for hesitation.

Curiosity piqued, you hastened your steps, your heart pounding in anticipation of what awaited you behind closed doors. With each passing moment, the weight of the unknown grew heavier upon your shoulders, filling you with a sense of apprehension mingled with a glimmer of hope.

As you reached Amren's door and stepped inside, the atmosphere shifted, enveloping you in a sense of solemnity and reverence. Amren's piercing gaze met yours, her eyes holding a depth of knowledge that sent a shiver down your spine.

"You have wings of great power," Amren stated bluntly, her words cutting through the silence like a knife.

Caught off guard by her revelation, you struggled to find words to respond. "Had, you mean. what are you talking about? " you managed to ask, your voice barely above a whisper. You still felt them in you but you thought it was your brain's method of coping with the trauma. To make you think they were still there

Amren rose from her seat, her movements graceful yet purposeful. "Your wings, they disappeared that night when Tamlin's father attempted to clip them, not because of their weakness, but because of their strength," she explained, her gaze never leaving yours.

Amren's expression remained impassive as she rose from her seat, her movements deliberate and measured. "Your wings are special, perhaps the most powerful I've encountered in our realm," she explained, her tone grave yet tinged with a hint of awe.

The weight of her words settled heavily upon you as you tried to make sense of their significance. "Special?" you echoed, seeking clarification.

Amren nodded slowly, her gaze never wavering from yours. "They have the ability to reveal themselves only when you experience extreme passion and desire for someone," she revealed, her voice tinged with reverence.

The revelation sent a shockwave through you, the implications of her words sinking in. "Passion and desire..." you murmured, your mind racing with thoughts of Eris and the inexplicable pull you felt towards him.

she continued, her tone steady yet filled with warning. "Such power comes with great responsibility and consequences."

You swallowed hard, the weight of her words settling heavily upon your shoulders. "So they can be revealed at any moment, what should I do now?" you asked, your voice tinged with uncertainty.

Amren regarded you thoughtfully, her gaze softening ever so slightly. "Trust your instincts," she advised, her voice a mere whisper. "And be prepared for what may come."

With that, she returned to her seat, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the weight of her revelation. As you processed the implications of your wings and the connection they symbolized, you couldn't shake the feeling that your destiny was now inexorably intertwined with Eris, for better or for worse.

--------------------------♧--------------------------------

Amren's revelation about your wings left you stunned. The idea that your wings could only return through the touch of someone you had extreme passion and desire for was both thrilling and terrifying. You kept replaying Amren's words in your mind, trying to process the implications.

Over the next few weeks, the rest of the inner circle learned about Amren's discovery. Rhysand was cautious, hoping the person who could invoke such passion and desire in you was not someone dangerous. He knew all too well that strong emotions could cloud judgment, especially when it came to matters of the heart.

Then one evening, Rhysand invited Eris to dinner at the House of Wind to finalize an important agreement between the courts. The atmosphere was tense as everyone gathered in the grand dining hall. You chose a magnificently beautiful red dress that hugged your curves in all the right places. The fabric was a deep crimson, soft and luxurious, with a subtle sheen that caught the light just so. The neckline dipped low, hinting at the curves beneath, and the skirt flowed gracefully around your legs, pooling at your feet in a cascade of red.

You paired the dress with red lipstick, a bold shade that accentuated your lips and added to the allure of the ensemble. As you entered the dining hall, you could feel all eyes on you, but one pair of eyes, in particular, stood out.

Eris couldn't take his eyes off you the entire evening. His gaze was intense, almost predatory, as if he couldn't resist the allure you exuded in that dress. His eyes traced the curves of your body, lingering on the exposed skin of your shoulders and the dip of your neckline. Every movement you made seemed to captivate him, drawing his attention like a moth to a flame.

Azriel noticed, his sharp eyes picking up on Eris's fixation. Nesta leaned over and whispered in your ear, her voice teasing yet reassuring.

"He's eye-fucking you," Nesta murmured, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. "Relax, darling. Don't let it get to you."

You flushed at her bluntness but appreciated the attempt to lighten the mood. Rhysand seemed engrossed in the negotiations, but Feyre's suspicious glances didn't escape your notice.

After dinner, you retired to your room, thinking Eris had left, but you were startled when he appeared in your chamber. The atmosphere crackled with tension as he moved closer, his eyes smoldering with desire. You were in your nightgown, feeling exposed yet strangely exhilarated.

"What are you doing here?" The words escaped your lips before you could stop them, a mixture of surprise and apprehension lacing your tone.

Eris regarded you with an inscrutable expression, his gaze piercing as he took a step closer. "I came to see you," he replied simply, his voice low and measured.

You couldn't help but feel a surge of unease at his response, your instincts urging you to tread carefully in his presence. "At this hour?" you pressed, trying to keep your voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions raging within you.

He offered you a small, enigmatic smile, his eyes holding yours in a steady gaze. "I couldn't stay away," he admitted, his voice tinged with a hint of vulnerability.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you struggled to make sense of his words, the conflicting emotions swirling within you making it difficult to think clearly. "Eris..." you began, unsure of what to say next.

As Eris approached, the air seemed to sizzle with the heat of his presence. His gaze, filled with an intensity that bordered on infernal, seared into yours, sending a rush of heat coursing through your veins. You could feel the warmth emanating from his very being, a stark contrast to the coolness of the room.

Eris stepped closer, his eyes roaming over you with an intimacy that made your breath catch. "I needed to see you," he murmured, his voice husky. His fingers brushed your face, trailing down to your hair, the touch electrifying.

Your back was bare in your nightgown, and when his warm hands slid down to your shoulders, a shiver ran through you. "Eris," you breathed, but he silenced you with a look.

His hands were warm against your cool skin, the fire within him contrasting with your own tension. He leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. "Do you feel it too?" he whispered.

Before you could respond, his hands moved lower, caressing your back. The touch was intimate, setting your nerves on fire. When his fingers brushed the base of your spine.

And then, in that moment of exquisite intimacy, your wings unfurled, bathed in the golden glow of his fiery touch. Eris's eyes widened in astonishment, the flames of his own power flickering in the depths of his gaze.

"You have wings," he breathed, his voice a low rumble, tinged with a mixture of awe and fascination.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you struggled to find words, the heat of his touch sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. But before you could respond, Eris leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear.

"Secrets like this..." he murmured, his voice husky with desire, "they only make you more irresistible."

You panicked, forcing him to keep quiet about what had just happened. "You can't tell anyone," you demanded, your voice barely above a whisper.

Eris raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. "And what will you do for me if I keep your secret?" he asked, his tone teasing.

You narrowed your eyes, trying to ignore the flutter in your chest. "Name your price," you replied, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside you.

Eris leaned closer, his breath brushing against your skin. "Oh, I'll think of something," he murmured, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

Just then Eris seemed to have winnowed away and before you could take in what just happened

Nesta entered the room, her eyes immediately fell upon your unfurled wings, their golden radiance filling the chamber with an otherworldly glow. Shock registered on her face as she took in the unexpected sight, her mouth opening to speak before she turned to you with a mixture of concern and curiosity.

"What just happened?" Nesta's voice was incredulous, her eyes darting between you and the now empty space where Eris had stood moments before.

You struggled to find words, still reeling from the intensity of the moment. "He... he saw my wings," you managed to stammer out, your voice betraying a mixture of awe and uncertainty.

As Nesta's gaze lingered on your wings, her expression shifted from shock to a thoughtful understanding. "Your wings... they only come when you truly desire someone," she mused, her voice carrying a note of realization.

You swallowed hard, feeling a flush rise to your cheeks at her astute observation. "I..." You struggled to find the words, unsure how to articulate the conflicting emotions swirling within you.

Nesta's eyes met yours, her gaze unwavering. "You desire Eris," she stated matter-of-factly, her words hanging in the air with a weight that left you breathless.

The truth of her statement hit you like a bolt of lightning, stirring a whirlwind of emotions deep within your chest. You couldn't deny the undeniable pull you felt towards Eris, the magnetic attraction that seemed to defy reason and logic.

"I..." Your voice faltered, unable to deny the truth of her words.

Nesta's expression softened, her hand reaching out to grasp yours in a gesture of support. "It's okay," she said gently, her voice filled with understanding

You let out a shaky breath, feeling a sense of relief wash over you at her acceptance. "I hope the rest feel the same about it"

She offered you a reassuring smile before turning to leave, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the weight of her revelation. As you processed the implications of what she had said, you couldn't shake the feeling that your life had just become infinitely more complicated, with Eris at the center of it all.

----------------------------♧-----------------------------

The tension in the Night Court was palpable, and it seemed as though everyone was on edge after the recent events. You had barely settled into your room when there was a knock on the door. Before you could respond, Rhysand and Feyre entered, their faces a mixture of concern and curiosity.

Your heart raced as you instinctively turned to shield your golden wings from their view, but it was too late. Rhysand's eyes widened, and Feyre gasped, stepping closer.

"Your wings," Rhysand said, his voice low and urgent. "How did this happen?"

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. "It's... complicated," you replied, avoiding their eyes.

Feyre stepped forward, her gaze soft but probing. "We need to know. This could change everything."

You hesitated, the memory of Eris's touch still fresh on your skin, his warmth lingering against your back. But you couldn't reveal his involvement. Not yet. "I don't know," you lied, the words feeling heavy on your tongue. "It just... happened."

Rhysand's eyes narrowed, suspicion and worry battling for dominance in his expression. "Are you sure?" he pressed.

You nodded, keeping your voice steady. "Yes. I'm sure."

Feyre placed a gentle hand on your arm, her eyes filled with understanding. "If you remember anything, or if something else happens, please tell us. We're here for you."

You managed a weak smile, grateful for their support but burdened by the secret you were now carrying. "I will," you promised, hoping they couldn't see through your facade.

Rhysand, however, wasn't satisfied. He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. "There's more to this, isn't there? I can sense it. You need to trust us."

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his scrutiny. "I trust you, Rhys," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "But I genuinely don't know how it happened. One moment they were gone, and the next... they were back."

Rhysand's eyes softened slightly, but the tension in his stance remained. "I want to believe you," he said quietly. "But if there's anything you're not telling us, it could put everyone at risk."

Your chest tightened at his words, the pressure of the situation nearly overwhelming. "I understand," you said, fighting to keep your voice steady. "And I promise, if I figure anything out, you'll be the first to know."

Rhysand studied you for a long moment before nodding slowly. "Alright. But remember, we're in this together. If you need anything, we're here."

Feyre squeezed your hand gently. "Take care of yourself. And don't be afraid to lean on us."

With that, they turned to leave, the door closing softly behind them. You let out a shaky breath, the burden of your secret pressing heavily on your shoulders.

-----------------------------♧---------------------------

As Eris stood with Lucien in the dimly lit study, the weight of his confession pressed heavily upon him. He couldn't keep it hidden any longer, not from his own brother, not when the truth gnawed at him every waking moment.

"Lucien," Eris began, his voice low and hesitant, "there's something I need to tell you."

Lucien's gaze met his, curiosity mingled with concern in his green eyes. "What is it, Eris?" he asked, his tone gentle yet expectant.

Eris took a deep breath, steeling himself for what was to come. "She's my mate," he confessed, the words heavy with significance.

In the depths of his mind, Eris was transported back to that fateful night—the night when he first laid eyes on her, and everything changed.

The grand hall was ablaze with light and music, a symphony of colors and sounds that seemed to dance around him as he entered. His gaze swept across the room, taking in the opulence of the event, until it landed on her.

She stood at the edge of the room, bathed in a halo of soft candlelight. Her violet eyes sparkled with intelligence and mischief, drawing him in with their magnetic allure. They were eyes that seemed to see right through him, to the very core of his being. Her long, dark hair cascaded down her back like a river of midnight, the soft waves catching the light and shimmering with an ethereal glow. It framed her face perfectly, highlighting the delicate angles of her cheekbones and the fullness of her lips, painted a deep, inviting red.

She wore a gown of deep blue, the fabric clinging to her curves in a way that was both elegant and provocative. The bodice was intricately designed, hugging her slender waist and accentuating the swell of her hips. A daring slit ran up one side, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of her long, shapely legs with each step she took. The neckline dipped just low enough to hint at the soft curve of her breasts, leaving just enough to the imagination to drive him mad.

Eris's breath caught in his throat as he watched her, every fiber of his being drawn to her like a moth to a flame. Her beauty was a siren's call, a magnetic force that pulled him in despite the danger it represented. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat echoing the golden thrum of the bond that pulsed between them.

He could feel the heat of her presence from across the room, a tantalizing warmth that wrapped around him and refused to let go. His thoughts became a whirlwind of desire and need, an all-consuming fire that burned through his veins and set his soul alight.

As she moved through the crowd, their eyes met, and he felt the world narrow down to just the two of them. The noise and chaos of the party faded into the background, leaving only the intensity of her gaze and the electric connection that sizzled between them.

In that moment, he felt an overwhelming urge to cross the distance between them, to take her in his arms and claim her as his own. He imagined the feel of her soft skin beneath his fingertips, the taste of her lips as he kissed her with a passion that had been building since the moment he first saw her. He longed to bury his hands in her hair, to pull her close and feel her body pressed against his, every curve and contour fitting perfectly against him.

He could almost feel the silk of her dress beneath his fingers, the warmth of her breath on his skin as she leaned in closer. His mind raced with thoughts of what it would be like to explore every inch of her, to lose himself in the depths of her eyes and the heat of her touch. The bond thrummed between them, a golden thread that tied their fates together and set his soul on fire.

But before he could act on those desires, he felt his father's gaze upon him. Beron, ever observant, had seen the change in him, the shift in his demeanor that betrayed the truth.

Their eyes locked across the room, and in that instant, Eris knew that his father had sensed it too. The knowledge hung between them like a heavy shroud, a silent acknowledgment of the bond that bound them together.

And as Eris stood frozen in place, his father's knowing gaze bore into him, his expression unreadable yet filled with a silent warning. It was a warning that echoed in the depths of Eris's soul, a reminder of the dangers that lurked in the shadows.

But despite the fear and uncertainty that threatened to consume him, one thing remained clear: he would do whatever it took to protect her, his mate, from the darkness that loomed on the horizon. For she was his light, his salvation, and he would move heaven and earth to keep her safe.

Lucien's eyebrows shot up in surprise, his expression mirroring the shock that coursed through Eris's veins. "Your mate?" he echoed, disbelief coloring his voice.

Eris nodded, his heart pounding in his chest. "I've felt it—the golden thrum, the string in my heart—since the day of the reunion party," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Lucien's eyes widened in realization, comprehension dawning on his features. "That's why..." he trailed off, his thoughts racing as he connected the dots.

Eris nodded, relief flooding through him at having finally shared the truth with his brother. "I couldn't deny it any longer," he confessed, his voice tinged with vulnerability.

Lucien placed a reassuring hand on Eris's shoulder, a silent gesture of support. "It changes things," he acknowledged, his voice filled with understanding.

Eris sighed deeply, the weight of his thoughts pressing down on him once more. "It feels like it can never happen," he said, his voice heavy with resignation. "Rhysand is her brother, and she can never be disloyal to her family. She would never forgive herself."

Lucien's expression softened with empathy. "That's a difficult position," he agreed quietly. "Family ties run deep."

Eris nodded, his jaw tightening. "And it gets worse," he added, his voice tinged with bitterness. "Our father found out about the bond. He told me to use it to get information out of her."

Eris's mind drifted further back to a darker memory, one that had left a scar deeper than any physical wound. It was the night after the grand event, the night he realized the full extent of his father's cruelty.

He had returned to the Autumn Court, the golden thrumming bond still pulsing within him, a beacon of both hope and fear. But as he entered his father’s study, he knew immediately that something was wrong. Beron's eyes gleamed with a malevolent light, and the air was thick with tension.

"Sit down, Eris," Beron commanded, his voice a dangerous whisper. Eris obeyed, his heart pounding in his chest. He knew his father well enough to recognize the signs of impending violence.

Beron leaned forward, his eyes boring into Eris's. "I saw the way you looked at her," he hissed. "The way you reacted. She's your mate, isn't she?"

Eris didn't answer, but the flicker of emotion in his eyes gave him away. Beron’s lips curled into a predatory smile. "Good. This can be useful."

Eris's stomach churned with dread. "Useful how?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

Beron stood and walked around the desk, his movements slow and deliberate. "You will use her," he said, his tone matter-of-fact. "Get close to her. Learn her secrets, her weaknesses. Bring that information to me. We will exploit her to undermine Rhysand and his Court."

Eris's blood ran cold. "I won't do it," he said through gritted teeth. "She's my mate. I won't betray her."

Beron's expression darkened. In a flash, he grabbed Eris by the collar and slammed him against the wall, a wickedly sharp knife appearing in his hand. He pressed the blade to Eris's throat, the cold metal biting into his skin.

"You don't have a choice," Beron snarled. "If you defy me, if you refuse to do as I command, I will make sure your mother suffers. I will hurt her in ways you cannot fathom."

Eris's breath caught in his throat, his mind racing with fear and fury. His mother—his gentle, loving mother—was the only person who had ever shown him kindness in this pit of vipers. The thought of her in pain, suffering because of him, was unbearable.

Beron pressed the knife harder, drawing a thin line of blood. "Do you understand me, Eris?" he demanded, his voice a venomous whisper.

Eris nodded, the movement barely perceptible. "I understand," he whispered back, his voice hollow with despair.

Beron released him, stepping back with a satisfied smile. "Good. Remember, Eris, you are a pawn in a much larger game. And you will play your part, or you will watch everything you care about burn."

As Eris watched his father turn away, the weight of his predicament settled heavily on his shoulders. He was trapped, bound by a cruel choice that tore at his very soul. To protect his mother, he would have to betray the woman who was his destined mate, the woman he was already falling for.

That night, as he lay in his bed, the golden thrum of the bond felt like a chain around his heart, a reminder of the impossible situation he was in. And in the darkness, he vowed to find a way to protect both his mother and his mate, no matter the cost

Lucien's eyes darkened with anger. "Beron," he spat, the name a curse on his lips. "That bastard."

Eris clenched his fists, a mixture of rage and helplessness roiling within him. "I can't do it," he said fiercely. "I won't use her like that. But if I refuse, he'll know something's wrong."

Lucien squeezed Eris's shoulder in affirmation, a silent promise passing between them. "We'll figure this out," he said firmly. "Together, but for now you need to stay away from her as much as you can, I know you feel extremely provocative but father is very brutal and if he touches her you wouldn't be able to do anything eris."

---------------------------♧-------------------------------

Later that night, Eris received a summons from his father, Beron, the High Lord of the Autumn Court. Dread coiled in the pit of his stomach as he made his way to his father's chambers, knowing that Beron's demands were rarely benign.

As he entered the dimly lit room, Beron's imposing figure loomed over him, his eyes sharp and calculating. "Eris," he greeted, his voice dripping with a deceptive warmth that made Eris's skin crawl.

"What do you need, Father?" Eris asked, trying to keep his tone neutral despite the unease gnawing at him.

Beron's lips curled into a cruel smile. "I want to know how your little mission is progressing," he said, his voice laced with thinly veiled menace.

Eris swallowed hard, his mind racing as he tried to come up with a convincing lie. "It's... progressing," he hedged, careful to keep his thoughts guarded.

Beron's eyes narrowed, his gaze piercing through Eris's defenses with unnerving precision. "Don't play games with me, Eris," he warned, his voice low and dangerous. "I want to know if you've made any progress with her. Have you gained her trust? Learned her secrets?"

Eris felt a surge of panic clawing at his chest. He couldn't let his father see the truth, couldn't let him know about the wings. This was the only thing he had left that were truly his own, and he would protect it at all costs.

"I'm working on it," Eris replied, his voice steady despite the turmoil raging within him. "But these things take time. I can't rush it."

Beron's expression darkened, his patience wearing thin. "Time is a luxury we don't have, Eris," he snapped, his tone turning icy. "I need results, and I need them now."

Eris clenched his jaw, his mind racing for a way out of this impossible situation. He couldn't risk his father discovering the truth, couldn't bear to see the look of triumph in Beron's eyes when he realized the power that lay dormant within Eris's mate.

But despite his best efforts to hide it, Beron's High Lord power was too formidable to evade. With a surge of energy, Beron reached into Eris's mind, probing for the secrets he sought.

Eris fought against the intrusion, his thoughts a chaotic whirlwind of resistance. But despite his efforts, he couldn't keep Beron out completely. And in a horrifying moment of realization, he knew that his father had seen it—the memory of the golden wings, hidden away in the depths of his mind.

Beron's eyes gleamed with a fierce intensity, a hunger for power burning within them. "Well, well, well," he murmured, a twisted smile spreading across his lips. "It seems you've been holding out on me, Eris."

Eris's heart sank as he realized the magnitude of his mistake. He had inadvertently revealed his most closely guarded secret, and now his father would stop at nothing to claim what he desired.

Beron's gaze locked onto Eris's, a predatory gleam in his eyes. "Those wings," he said, his voice filled with a dangerous excitement, "they are the key to everything. And now that I know they exist, I will stop at nothing to make them mine."

Fear clenched at Eris's heart as he watched his father, knowing that Beron's obsession with power knew no bounds. And as Beron's plans began to unfold, Eris knew that he would have to tread carefully if he hoped to protect both his mate and himself from the ruthless ambitions of the High Lord of the Autumn Court.

Taglist: @st4r-girl-official @sunny1616 @blackgirlmagicforever

[hoeforalbedo]

ᗪEᗩᒪ ᗯITᕼ TᕼE ᗪEᐯIᒪ ✟

Chapter 2

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WARNING: PLEASE READ

Sensitive topics including vague details of SA. Reader will display many mental health such as depression, PTSD, and anxiety. I will also discuss after effects of said trauma such as hyper sexuality, over-sexualizing oneself, over trusting, and many more. (Many cope in different ways however I am more familiar with this side of the spectrum as I have taken this information from my experience.) Suicidal topics. Horror. Manipulation. Blasphemy. Religious horror and possibly hints of religious trauma. Demons. Paganism. Witchcraft (I try to depict witchcraft as accurate as I can however if I make it too accurate, it will seem boring so I did add magical abilities. I write it based off of how I practice it). Possession. Death. Murder. Exorcism. Sex. Ritualistic sex. Female reader. A bit of crack (reader doesn’t take things seriously. Humor is the way of coping 😭)

If any of these themes trigger you, please do not read. You have already been warned.

Writing criticism is appreciated since I want to get better in writing.

Note: This story is heavily inspired by Chilling Adventures of Sabrina, and honestly I was going to write a story like that but I wanted something original. I did leave in some ideas I really liked so to anyone who watched it, you guys may know a little bit of the direction I’m going with for a specific character. Also yay, I did manage to post it but Chapter 3 may take a bit.

Summary: Everything is happening too fast and it just keeps getting worse. Hey, at least you got to see a friend!

———————— ♱ ————————

Hongjoong’s body is tangled with yours with only a thin blanket covering you both. He feels so good as he thrusts slowly and passionately into your sopping wet hole.

“Hongjoong,” Whines fell from your lips like a prayer. You dig your nails into his back and bury your face into the crook of his neck.

“Feel so good, squeezing me so right, doll,” He groans in your ear, his tip pressing against your cervix snugly.

“Joong, please,” You gasp as his pace quickens, driving you closer and closer to the taste of your sweet orgasm.

“That’s right. Say my name, doll. Scream it. Worship me,”He starts grunting out nonsense, although it sounded right under the drunken haze of pleasure. His thrust only became rougher, drawing strings of profanity from you. “So sinful,” He chuckles. “Tell God how much you love this demon’s cock,” He cackles, tearing you away from pleasure. When you look at him, his eyes are rolled back to his head and some black substance oozes out of his mouth.

You let out a horrid scream and reached for anything on your night stand. “Get off of me!” You cry, grabbing some object and hitting Hongjoong on the head with it. He then collapses over you and you shakily toss away the object you killed him with, a crucifix.

He lifts his head up, “You can’t run from the mark of lust.”

You sat up immediately, ending whatever nightmare that was. It felt so real, and you swear it felt so good before the whole demonic stuff happened.

That night you prayed. To be honest, during times like these, you suddenly become a devout Christian, or was it Catholic? Does it matter? They both worship God.

“Have you ever seen Doctor Who?” You walk around the courtyard of the church as you ask the priest some questions. The courtyard doesn’t seem to be well taken care of, the shrubs over growing and eroding statues. The grass could also use some cutting.

“No, can’t say that I have,” He shakes his head.

“Well there’s these weeping angels. They’re pretty much statues and when you blink or when the lights go out, they move. I would have nightmares from them.” You remembered you were at the dorms during your college days and your roommate had introduced you to the show. After watching the weeping angels in particular did she start regretting it, as you woke up in cold sweats. You had dreams of the angels chasing you.

“Well the church has plenty of those,” Hongjoong laughs as you shudder at the thought. The leaves crunched under your shoes, as the weather had gotten colder and it seems the world is dying around you.

“Do they ever move?” You ask jokingly as you link arms with him.

He shrugs, “Yeah.”

You look up at him, scoffing, “Oh really?”

He smirks as he nods. “Yeah. There’s one behind you?”

You turn your head to look behind and there was nothing. “Liar,” You huff and Hongjoong came to a sudden stop. Confused, you turned your head back to face the front to question why he stopped.

“No I’m not,” He says as you come face to face with the stone cold statue that looks at you with empty eyes.

“You are so mean!” You raise your voice but you weren’t offended by the harmless joke.

“Michael just wanted to say hi.”

“Well I’m saying goodbye,” You roll your eyes as you walk ahead of him.

He laughs as he watches you slowly walk off, eyes glazing over your figure and the way you kick some rocks while muttering under your breath. His gaze wanders back up and stops at your waist, or at least the middle of your spine much closer to your tailbone. “Hey, you’re bleeding.”

You wave him off, “Not falling for it.”

“No, I'm serious. You’re bleeding.”

“I would feel if I were bleeding,” You turn to him, brows furrowed.

“I could take a picture to show you,” He offers.

You sigh and hand him your phone. He leans down and pulls your shirt up by an inch. “Oh shit!” He gasps, making you panic.

“What. What. What happened?” You ask, trying to look at your back for yourself.

“Let me just,” He snaps the picture then turns the phone screen to you.

“Oh fuck,” You whisper as you zoomed into the picture. It’s slightly still bloody, however you can easily make out swollen red marks that form into an unknown symbol. It’s almost as if you’ve been branded. “Hongjoong, this seems demonic. I’m too hot to be possessed. . .” You whimper, eyes brimming with tears. “My gorgeous face would be ruined by a demon!” Wails come from you as you can already imagine that one girl from The Exorcist. In all horror movies, the host always becomes ugly after possession. “Like I wanted to die but not like this! Even if I’m on my deathbed, I have to remain gorgeous!”

“Y/N, I fear you have questionable priorities, however I can recommend some things since we’re not sure if you’re truly possessed,” Hongjoong says, rather too calmly.

“How do you know?” She grabs onto his shirt and shakes him. “How are you so sure?” She looks deep into his eyes.

Hongjoong rolls his eyes and pulls out a rosary. “What do you feel when you look at this?”

“Trauma. Those times when my parents would force me to recite the rosary ten times,” You shudder. “Wait- does that mean I’m possessed?” You gasp dramatically.”

“Do you feel violent? Like you’re going to hurt me. Or perhaps do you feel physical pain?” He asks.

You scoff, “What? No! Of course not.”

“Then you’re not possessed,” He flicks your forehead earning a grunt from you as you rub the spot.

“But how do you know?” She insists.

“Because as a former exorcist, I know that most demons would immediately react to anything holy, and the fact you’re standing in front of the church shows that you’re not possessed. There is a rare case where a demon doesn’t react at all, meaning the demon is very strong, but there are still some symptoms unless the demon fully takes control of the body,” He explains.

“Oh, okay,” You sigh in relief. “I’m good.”

“But it could also mean that you’re a target of a demon.”

“We’ll get rid of it! How do I get rid of it!” You cry.

Hongjoong couldn’t help but laugh at how dramatic you are. “Sleep with a crucifix in your room, pray at night, and go to confession and apologize for the lack of faith,” He instructs.

“Is that 100% foolproof?” You ask.

“No.”

“Damn,” You huff.

Suddenly, a loud high pitched scream causes you both to freeze and look at each other in panic. Collectively, you both decide to run to where the screams came from. Once Hongjoong pushes the heavy wooden doors open, he looks around and sees that the deacon has already arrived at the scene.

“Seonghwa, what happened?” Hongjoong asks as his gaze falls on the nun, Sister Anna, who’s crying next to the man. Before them is another nun who remains unmoving.

“I’m afraid the killer has gotten into the parish, Father,” Seonghwa says calmly.

Hongjoong walks up to them with you following close behind. The closer you got the more you were able to make out the scene. “Oh my God,” you gasp, earning a look from Seonghwa for using God’s name in vain.

The nun on the pew sits stiff, her hands tied together with a rosary. She looks at the huge cross above the altar however her eyes are deep pits of emptiness. She’ll never see God. The killer scooped out her eyes. Was she praying while getting killed? How did she get killed in the first place? Not a single gunshot or stab wound. Her body is just there, praying.

“I’ll prepare the funeral right away,” Seonghwa says with a lack of emotion, taking the body as if it was nothing.

“Shouldn’t we leave the body so that the police can investigate?” You ask.

“And ruin the peace of the church? Giving a proper funeral for Sister Mary is what she would have wanted,” Seonghwa says sternly, to which you don’t understand. Someone died. Why is he being so calm about this?

“Look, Y/N,” Hongjoong turns to you. “I think you should go home. I don’t think you should see any more of this.”

“But-“ You start but the look in his eyes, the look that says, ‘question and you’ll see the consequences,’ forces you to shut up and turn away from. “Yeah, I’ll see you,” You force out before walking down the long isle till you get to the huge set of wooden doors.

You have decided to cut through the woods, realizing that it’s a very quick shortcut to your house. As always, you pass by the huge oak tree. Maybe this is the reason the town is called Oakheart.

“You bear the mark of lust,” A woman sneers.

Your head spins to the voice. It’s the woman from before. This time, she wears a black thin veil over her head.

“That. How did you-“ You are flabbergasted. You recalled your dream. You can’t run from the mark of lust. “Who are you?”

At the corner of her lips curve into a smirk. She transforms in a blink of an eye. The once wrinkled skin becomes tight and youthful, although there’s still age. She looks very mature. Her eyes are sharp and her blue eyes are piercing cold. Her once pruned lips are pulled tight, the color dark red like wine, or even blood.

“What the fuck!” You scream as you back away. “The woman. The old lady. The grandma! How? What,” You stutter, trying to make sense of everything. You’re not high or drunk so this must be real, right? You pinch your skin to make sure.

You could care less for an explanation at this point as you run off. First you witnessed a murder. Now you’re seeing things. It’s best if you just go home.

“You can’t run, child! You’re a beacon! They’ll find you!” The woman calls from behind you.

You keep running and running until you make it to your street. You’re never going through the forest ever again. You don’t even look back, nor look at where you are going so it’s no surprise when you collide with someone.

“Are you okay?” The man asks, though the kindness is unexpected. In New York, you know you’d get many nasty remarks.

“I’m so sorry- Wooyoung!?” You gasp, recognizing the face of an old friend.

“Y/N? I haven’t seen you in so long!” Wooyoung’s face lights up, erasing all the negative feelings you harbored. Finally someone familiar.

He’s what you can describe as the typical shy church boy, always hiding behind his glasses. He has a soft spoken voice to him, which to be honest does not match his face nor his smile that naturally looks mischievous. He looks like he’s scheming when it’s the complete opposite. He’s a sweet guy.

“Just visiting. Rough times,” You chuckle awkwardly.

“I’m somewhat saddened that you never even visited me,” He frowns.

“I’m sorry Woo, it’s just so many things going on. I see you still got your typical outfit going on here,” You lightly tease, hoping to change the topic and lighten up the mood. “It’s really about time you get rid of those flannels.”

He always wears his typical flannel shirt, buttoned all the way to the top and khaki pants. He dresses like a dad. And of course he always sports his black thick-rimmed glasses. You always say he has the face of a model but he never cares, always telling you , “It matters not the clothing or richness you have. God judges all equally.”

“So how’s it been? Are you working or anything?” You ask curiously.

“I’ve actually taken a job as a history teacher in Oakheart High School,” He chuckles.

“Oh really? Any interesting history?” You ask, knowing that history class back in your high school days was a bore.

“You’d be surprised. You can call me this town's historian, well unofficially anyways,” He shrugs with a chuckle. “How about you?”

“Neurosurgeon. So where are you off to?” You ask.

“Home. You should, too. Y’know it’s very dangerous for us to be out and about with the murders.”

“Yeah, I just witnessed a murder in the church,” You shrug nonchalantly, earning a gasp from him and he quickly covers your mouth.

“Don’t say that out loud. It will cause panic to everyone. Whatever you saw, keep it to yourself. I’ll pretend like I never heard what you said,” He warns you, urgency clear in his eyes, darting about to make sure no one heard. “Now I’ll be going home. You have a nice day okay,” He smiles, taking his hand off your face and walks back.

“Bye Woo.”

This town doesn’t make sense. Nothing makes sense.

—————————————————————

“They found the murderer! Come on! We have to go!” Your father screams, waking up the whole house. He rushes you and your mom out the door as quickly as possible.

“Where are we going?” You ask.

“Church,” Your father says, adding nothing more. You all got in the car and drove 10 minutes. You know cutting through the forest is faster.

When you all arrive, the parking lot is filled, having to park on the side of the road instead. It seems the whole town is there.

“What’s going on?” You ask once more, getting more confused by the second when you see people heading into the woods.

“Just don’t ask and follow us,” Your father responds gruffly.

You said you’ll never go back to the woods but here you are amongst a whole group of people. “Woo!” You whisper, weaving your way to stand next to him. “What’s going on?”

“The murderer, they found the murderer and she was found to be a witch,” Wooyoung shortly explains, eyes focused ahead as he clutches the rosary beads in his hand. “God is gracious,” He kisses the beads.

“Oakheart used to be a coven of witches, that is until the Evangelist came and forced us to turn to their God. Others who refused were burned here,” You remember the words of the old woman. Here you are, standing before the large oak tree once more, anticipating the events that would unfold, and it doesn’t seem good.

Hush murmurs drowned the silence of the woods. It seems everyone knows what’s happening but you. You don’t know what to expect.

“Brothers and sisters,” The familiar voice of Hongjoong quickly hushes the crowd. The deacon, Seonghwa, stood next to him. “It is thanks to our devoted loyalty and prayers to God that we have found the demon causing havoc to our town. A witch.”

“I didn’t do it! I didn’t do it!” Screams echo through the quiet forest as the nuns drag a woman to Hongjoong.

Your hand shakily covers your mouth, recognizing the old woman. There’s no way. A fragile woman like her? But the way she transformed before your eyes. Maybe she did do it. She seems to be staring at you now. You know I didn’t do it.

You don’t get it. If she’s the murderer, why is she here instead of in jail? What are the police doing? What is Hongjoong doing?

“Now we won’t be burning any witches but we know what to do with them,” Hongjoong smiles. He then turns to the nuns who dragged the woman to a platform and only did you notice that there’s a rope tied to a strong branch on the tree.

“There’s no way,” You whisper.

“It’s what happens to witches,” Wooyoung assures you. “History says so.”

Hongjoong puts the noose around the woman’s neck then steps back. “Brothers and sisters, we should not place mistrust in each other, but this is an example of what happens to the worshippers of the devil. With a nod, Seonghwa drops the platform, causing the woman to drop with it, the noose causing her to lose circulation and ultimately killing her. Hongjoong is turned away from you but from where you are, you can make out a smirk.

“What the fuck,” You manage to get out as you back away from the crowd. Everything happened so quickly. One moment she was screaming, the next second she’s limp. You want to puke. You might puke.

“Where are you going?” Wooyoung asks.

“Out!” You scream, causing a commotion. You run away from the group of people, Wooyoung calling out your name and your parents running after you.

You weren’t going to wait for a bus. You immediately call for an Uber as you pack your bags.

“Where are you going? You can’t just leave,” You’re mother yells.

“Well I can and I will. I am an adult!” You look out the window to see your Uber waiting for you. You push past your mother. You don’t even make eye contact with your dad.

Hongjoong killed someone. In fact, he was smiling. You can’t be mistaken.

“I’m not coming back. Not even if you force me,” You put your bag over the shoulder. You walk out the house, not even glancing back as you enter the car.

“No you are not leaving!” Your mom cries, forcing the car door open.

“Let go!” You yell, pushing her, causing her to stumble.

“Theresa!” Your dad calls you by your catholic name, as if a strong boisterous voice would scare you. You close the door and tell the driver to just go. You weren’t going to come back. There’s a reason you go by your middle name rather than your first. Maybe you should have changed your name to Lucy out of spite. They always believe Lucy is just a shortened version of Lucifer. Or maybe Lilith? That would rile them up. It doesn’t matter anymore. And fuck Hongjoong.

—————————————————————

Jung Wooyoung drives home in the dark rainy night, singing to whatever song is on the radio. Suddenly, he sees a person on the road in front of his car which forced him to swerve so suddenly. He looks back in shock then undoes his seatbelt before getting out of the car to check on the person he saw.

“Hello?” He calls out into the dark road, as nobody had invested in more lights. No answer and so he keeps on walking to the direction of where he saw the person.

“Help me! Please!” A man begs from behind him. He turns slowly to look at him.

“Oh my god,” He whispers to himself, looking at the dirty disheveled guy. So he finds himself driving the young man in the back of his car to his house. “Oh poor thing,” He shakes his head. “My house is just at the end of this road. We’ll get you all cleaned up. Tomorrow I’ll call a doctor to get you all checked.”

Wooyoung is quick to give the man the best hospitality he can offer. “I brewed you some tea. I would have gotten coffee if it wasn’t night already,” Wooyoung smiles at the young man who had finally gotten all cleaned up. The man slowly approaches him. “I also found some cookies. What’s your name? Can you tell me what happened to you?” He asks. He’s far too kind, inviting a stranger into his home, offering them refreshments without knowing anything about them. “Did someone attack you?”

The man shakes his head and sits in front of him. “No. The woods did.”

Wooyoung bites his lip for a second before his lips form a smile, sitting down as well. “Wow, well you’re not from around here, aren't you?” He chuckles. “You know, everyone knows about the witch hunt in Salem, but many people don’t know that there was one, right here in Oakheart. 1692. Well maybe the lucky few who escaped. It’s no surprise the spirits of the woods are mad. There was a hanging today.” He starts talking about the eerie history of the town. “Back then, thirteen witches were hanged in the forest,” He tells the man, explaining why he believed him so easily, being one to be a huge believer of superstitions. The superstitions are the reason he becomes even more a devout Christian, not wanting to awaken any angry spirits.

“How do you know so much,” The man asks, “about witches?”

Wooyoung smiles, “Well, I may be the unofficial historian of Oakheart. Plus, I teach at the high school. Oakheart High School. The town is actually named Oakheart because the tree the witches were hanged was an oak-”

“Do you know Y/N?”

“Yes actually! She’s my friend,” He says, taken aback. “Do you know her?”

“Not yet,” The man answered in a distorted voice which made Wooyoung stand up in fear. “But hell will be much livelier with her.” The man raises his arm up, sending a silver sheer to stab Wooyoung’s neck. He looks at the stranger in shock before collapsing to the floor.

The man approaches his body, touching his fresh warm blood while chanting in latin. The stranger transforms into the image of the man, smirking to himself. “Asmodeus, you owe me. I’m not one to play matchmaker.”

[5starl1ght]

Hello, could you please write prompt 6. **Cooking Together**: Characters A and B cook a meal together, resulting in a flour fight and a messy kitchen with Charles Leclerc, please <3

Here you go lovely! Hope you like it and thank you for asking o⁠(⁠(⁠*⁠^⁠▽⁠^⁠*⁠)⁠)⁠o

Cooking Together with Charles

Mesterlist prompt list

It was a lazy Saturday afternoon when you and Charles decided to tackle the kitchen together. The plan was simple: cook a homemade pizza from scratch. The reality, as you both would soon find out, was far more chaotic.

The kitchen was filled with the mouth-watering scent of fresh ingredients and the warm glow of late afternoon sunlight streaming through the windows. Charles, ever the perfectionist, was meticulously measuring out the flour while you prepped the toppings on the counter beside him.

"Are you sure that's enough flour?" you teased, watching him with an amused smile. "I don't want our pizza to turn into a pancake."

Charles looked up, a twinkle of mischief in his eye. "Just trust me, okay? I've got this."

He carefully poured the flour into a large mixing bowl, but as he turned to reach for the water, his elbow nudged the bag of flour off the counter. In a split second, a cloud of white powder erupted into the air, covering both of you in a fine layer of flour.

You burst out laughing, trying to wipe the flour from your face, but it only made matters worse. "Charles! Look what you've done!"

He stood there, momentarily stunned, before breaking into a grin. "Oops," he said sheepishly. "Guess we'll be having a floury pizza."

Without missing a beat, you scooped up a handful of flour and flung it at him. "Oops," you mimicked, unable to contain your giggles.

Charles's eyes widened in mock horror before he retaliated with a handful of his own. Soon, the kitchen was a battleground, flour flying everywhere as you both laughed uncontrollably. The counters, floor, and even the ceiling were dusted with white, but neither of you cared. It was a rare moment of carefree fun, far removed from the pressures of Charles's racing schedule.

Eventually, you both called a truce, collapsing onto the kitchen floor amidst the mess, still giggling. Charles reached out and brushed a flour-covered strand of hair from your face, his touch gentle and affectionate.

"You look beautiful," he said softly, his eyes full of warmth.

"You look ridiculous," you replied, smiling as you reached up to wipe a smudge of flour from his cheek.

He chuckled, leaning in to press a quick kiss to your lips. "Maybe, but I'm your ridiculous."

Together, you managed to clean up the worst of the mess and finally got back to making the pizza. Despite the chaos, the end result was

delicious. The dough was a little uneven, and the toppings might not have been perfectly distributed, but the experience of making it together made it the best pizza you had ever tasted.

As you sat at the table, enjoying your homemade creation, you couldn't help but feel a deep sense of contentment. Charles, still with a dusting of flour in his hair, was smiling at you with such genuine happiness that it made your heart swell.

"Do you think the kitchen will ever be the same again?" you asked playfully, taking another bite of pizza.

Charles shrugged, a carefree grin spreading across his face. "Maybe not, but I wouldn't trade today for anything. This was perfect."

You reached across the table, taking his hand in yours. "Agreed. We should do this more often—minus the flour fight."

Charles laughed, his thumb gently caressing the back of your hand. "Deal. But don't think I won't start another food fight if I get the chance."

You both laughed, the kind of laughter that comes from shared joy and unspoken love. The afternoon had been a wonderful reminder that sometimes, the best memories are made in the simplest moments of everyday life. Cooking together, covered in flour, laughing and teasing each other—it was these moments that made your relationship with Charles so special.

As the evening drew on and the kitchen was finally cleaned up, you found yourselves on the couch, wrapped in a cozy blanket, watching a movie. The warmth of the pizza still lingered, and the shared laughter echoed softly in your minds. Charles pulled you closer, his arm around your shoulders, and you nestled into his side, feeling completely at home.

"Today was amazing," you whispered, looking up at him.

Charles smiled down at you, his eyes filled with tenderness. "Every day with you is amazing."

In that moment, you realized that it wasn't just the grand gestures or the high-speed thrills that made your relationship with Charles special. It was the little things—the shared flour fights, the homemade meals, the quiet cuddles on the couch. It was being understood and loved for exactly who you were, in every silly, messy, wonderful moment.

And as you drifted off to sleep in his arms, you knew that no matter where life took you both, you would always treasure these simple, perfect days together.