#meant i could only be claimed as your dependent! i do not want you do be involved! it was not in my plans to have to include you!

[jackalhadrurusluvr]

another day another why must my mom make everything as difficult as possible

[creatingblackcharacters]

“The Ambiguously Brown Character™”- The Attachment to Eurocentric Beauty Standards

“maybe im petty but i wish people knew how to draw like different nose shapes. Sometimes I’ll see a character I like but im like that is not what their nose would look like.” @the-eldritch-it-gay

You’ve seen them before. The one character that has brown skin… And everything else about them is… an enigma. They’re not supposed to be white! You know that much… right? You can see what the designated white characters look like, so at least it’s not that. You could claim them as Black, if you want, and sometimes creators even demand that this character is Black. Depending on the quality, you’re either like “no, what the fuck is this” or you’re like “okay they’re cool, we’ll take them”. Representation is important. But… There’s a pit in your stomach that wonders… Are they really? Are they really supposed to be Black, is this really representation, or did the creators just toss a brown person in so all the Brown™ people could “have something”, so that they would look like they cared about “diversity” on their art resume?

Examples

Theseus, in my opinion, looks like a white man with a tan. Dionysus looks a little better with the similar skin tone, due to his purple hair coloration. Apparently people do think that at least Dionysus is a man of color. What’s interesting about both of these characters, is that they’re only about two desaturated browns lighter than Patroclus, a character in the game that we’re supposed to believe is Black (whom, in my opinion, also looks like a brown bucket tool character. I’m still claiming him, he’s my guy. But his design should have been more explicitly Black). Theseus and Patroclus are the two darkest-skinned dead humans in the first game. So… what was I supposed to think about these two? Was I supposed to think they are really dark white people, due to the thin textures of their hair? Are they men of color? Are Theseus and Patroclus supposed to be ashy because they’re dead, is Dionysus ashy because he’s dehydrated from wine? Why don’t the white dead people look off color? Hades was entirely too striking a game in use of color for the browns to look like… this.

Noe and Hibana are interesting. It was complete coincidence, the purple hair and eyes thing btw. Hibana is interesting because Ogun is an unambiguously Black character in Fire Force, and there are at least three other unambiguously Black characters in Soul Eater as well. So we know the mangaka knows how to draw Black people in their style! So… was this on purpose? Is this another of those ‘tanned anime girls with titties’ meant for shounen fan service? I’ve claimed Noe (Case Study of Vanitas) because Black French people exist and France has stolen so much from us already, but it is never actually specified what Noe is. He’s just the One Singular Brown Guy in this show, with regular, untextured anime hair. Are there more brown people in the manga? Is this explained? Because we know who is supposed to be white! If anyone else wants to claim Noe, they absolutely can, because we have no idea what he’s supposed to be. Hot Chocolate thinks he’s Indian, and I’m not going to argue that because… who knows! He very well could be!

My very first lesson addressed this, albeit lightly! There’s a reason that I said that if you gained nothing else from me, that’s what I want you to walk away with. Now that I’m on stronger footing with this blog, I can really get into the nitty gritty of what that really means.

Obligatory disclaimer: we are not a monolith!* As of 2015, it has been researched that African populations have the highest genetic variation on Earth*, with a lot of that genetic diversity in sub-Saharan Africa alone. This means that YES, there very well can and will be Black people with naturally thinner textures of hair, blonde, light brown, and red hair, straight, narrow noses, monotone lips, and lighter skin that comes more often with white people. There are enough genetic combinations within African peoples and of the African diaspora that I’m sure there are plenty of people that look the way people seem to want Black people in art to look, if those genes so express within them.

*as a scientist, I will say: while these papers seem fairly legit and I looked at many related articles and their sources, take Nature with a grain of salt. Though their vetting process has become much better, you can and should always do further reading on your own!

Here’s the thing: the possibility is not the issue here!

The first issue: I don’t have to teach anyone how to draw those features on Black people! It is evident, from the professional and fan art I’ve seen, y’all already know how to draw the features deemed highly by Eurocentric beauty standards. Those features are excessively focused on and promoted as part of “good art”.

The second issue here is that the average artist drawing a poorly done Black person is not considering things like genetic diversity when they draw them (and if they are, it’s usually as an excuse post-confrontation. Yes, I have seen it.) These creators are not designing these characters with the intent of them being Black with those features, they are designing “Black” people with features that they deem most aesthetic and are most comfortable with drawing.

And why do they deem those features most aesthetic? We’ve circled back to the point of this lesson!

Eurocentric Beauty Standards

Definition: beauty standards as defined through a white, western cultural lens, including but not limited to: straight, blonde hair, light eyes, pale skin, high cheekbones, narrow noses, thinness. It’s a way that white western people want other white western people to look to be considered classically attractive… and then enforced that on everyone else.

It affects people of color worldwide. Anyone that has ever had to deal with European colonization or imperialism has to deal with the interjection of Eurocentric beauty standards.

Examples

-Black women, standing at the intersection of Blackness and womanhood, especially deal with the constant pressure of Eurocentric beauty standards, being consistently told to hate ourselves due to our own ethnic features. It’s incredibly damaging to your self-esteem growing up; my mom told me that until I went natural at 17, I was determined to look ‘like a white girl’ because I thought it would make me beautiful, and it hurt her. And as for me, it was a stunning realization that at 17 that I had never really seen my own natural curl pattern before. My hair was in ponytails and such as a child, but as a teenager, growing into my identity, I had always wanted straight hair. I was in love with my coily texture, I couldn’t believe that I’d never seen it. An entire part of my own body, gone unknown, because I wanted to fit a beauty standard I would never reach.

-Kenneth and Mamie Clark: The “Doll” Studies: Black children- age 3-7 were shown white and Black doll babies, and were asked a series of ‘positive’ and ‘negative’ identification questions. Even by that young an age, most of the Black children associated things like beauty, kindness, and positivity… with the white dolls.

-“The Golden Ratio”: a survey was done in Britain (oh boy, here we go) to determine what people felt was the ‘most beautiful’ face, and apparently it all came down to “symmetry”. “International blueprints of beauty” they claimed, were applied, as humans “naturally seek symmetry”. In 2015, according to ye olde Daily Mail, this was the most beautiful woman. You'll never guess:

(It’s not even her natural hair color!)

-Another “research study” using E-FIT (Electronic Facial Identification Technique -- a facial recognition software used to create criminal profiles based on eyewitness descriptions; no WAY that THAT could get problematic!!) to determine what 100 people thought was the “most archetypal face of beauty”.

They came up with a figure similar to Kendall Jenner as the female option.

(Guys, we’re never getting out of here at this rate.)

-We’ve spoken about discrimination against Black hair before, and how natural hairstyles will be deemed less professional or appropriate for school, regardless of the brilliant mind that sits underneath it, and even the history of Black women having to cover their hair so as to “not steal the desire of white men” and ruin the status of white women.

Appropriation:

I try to have nuance on the Kardashians, but I have never liked Kylie, and it’s not because she’s not allowed to do what she wants with her body. I watched the world claim that she was so beautiful, that her kits were why her lips looked “so good”. Everyone wanted to have “full, plump lips” like the ones Kylie BOUGHT. But Black women’s full lips have been treated horrifically since racism was invented. In 2016 I watched racists dogpile and mock Ugandan model Aamito Lagum for her naturally full lips in her MAC campaign, after saying in just 2015 that Kylie’s lips were “top fashion and everyone wants them”. And she lied (not that we didn’t all know that)! She appropriated a look, and she lied about it to move product. And people who had no right to forgive her did so, and everyone moved on to make her a billionaire. Because full lips looked good… as long as they weren’t on a Black woman. I can’t even have my own lips, but she was rewarded with an industry for appropriation. No, I’m not getting over that.

I could go on, but I won’t. So what are some ways to address the existence of Eurocentric beauty standards potentially biasing our creation?

First thing: LET’S TRASH THE IDEA THAT BROWN SKIN AUTOMATICALLY MEANS BLACK.

Black people are not stupid, and we do have expectations. Splashing brown paint on your otherwise white character does not mean I’ll automatically think they’re Black. I’m going to look. When I see brown people in real life, I can usually tell when they don’t look like me. I don’t look at a South Asian similar to or darker than my shade and say “they’re Black”. Blackness is not just skin color, it’s an entire identity and sociological construct. Yes, you can tell us apart.

Acknowledge when you’re holding a bias:

For example: “Tall, dark, and handsome.” What did you picture? You must understand that different people had different ideas of what this meant, versus who it was actually meant to be. Because on its surface, that description includes tall Black men with dark brown eyes and dark hair! We’ve talked about this in lesson 3! Whoever came up with this phrase didn’t mean skin though, they meant hair and eyes- they meant white brunettes. Even in this, it was only meant to include whiteness. And we were all supposed to assume that, be damned anything else.

Part of that is knowing what things do and don’t fall under the category. They were listed off earlier: straight and wavy hair, blonde hair, colorful eyes, thin noses, high cheekbones, double eyelid with round eyes that “show youth and innocence”. People have been going the “aquiline nose” route lately to claim more diversity in nose shape but like… even that isn’t always going to be the case. Every Black person is not going to have an aquiline nose. It is not the “middle ground” of diversity. Draw us with some round noses. We look fine.

Often ignored (in depictions of Black people): afro/coily hair and natural styles, large, round noses, full faces, brown eyes, full figures that aren’t oversexualized, body fat. One of the characters from Craig of the Creek that makes me so happy is Nicole, Craig’s mother. When I look at her design, I see my own mother. I see a Black woman that… actually looks like Black mothers I know. It made me happy and comfortable.

White folk, you even do it to yourselves! I mentioned to a friend once that a good chunk of stories in our fandom with the blonde/brunette white character dynamic read like an Aryan fantasy: the blonde character will be treated like a god on high, the most beautiful of humanity, and then you’ll get to the brunette and it’s “my meek, mousy brown hair, my dull, brown eyes like dirt, and my tanned skin with freckles; no one would ever notice someone plain, nerdy, and unimportant like me until him” lmao like excuse me? Author, you okay there pal? Do you need a hug, lmao? I can’t take it seriously anymore. If y'all are being this mean to each OTHER about not hitting Eurocentric beauty standards, y'all are certainly not being nice or respectful about people of color- who never can- in your content! (and no, exoticizing Blackness is not respectful.) You should look out for how often this happens, and catch yourself when you’re doing it.

Creating with Intent (and the lack thereof!)

(This is so important I made the header larger)

You have to actually consider and reference REAL Black people when you’re drawing Black people. That seems like such an obvious thing, and yet it must not be, because these sorts of arts/the techniques used in them still happen.

For example:

credit to my friend @devilatelier; I asked for the worst Black art ever and he heeded the call!

I abhor art like this, and art that does varying versions of this. To the pit of my soul, hatred. I will not share your work if I catch even a whiff of it. Why? Because people know that this isn’t what we look like! If you get on the computer and type in “Black man with short hair”, option A is not even remotely on the first page. You’ll get nonblack men that show up, thanks to Google’s algorithm (another conversation), but the Black men don’t look like A. If you get on the computer and type “Black man with long hair”, you’ll even get Black men with all textures and styles of hair, including straight! And they still don’t look like B. Go ahead, I’ll pause- go type it in and see what you get. Have you ever seen a Black person that looks like these images? Be honest with yourself. Why do you let them slide, if you haven’t?

Why This Matters

So it’s not about the actual Black people in their lives that they’ve seen, that makes artists draw characters like this, nor a dedication to accuracy. Because if you were looking at us at all, you wouldn’t draw this. And yet, people draw it, and post it proudly. So there must not be any shame behind it, or they at least are comfortable enough with their target audience to think it’s presentable! That begs the question- who is your target audience, and do you include Black people in it?

It’s how people like Jen Zee can have a successful career at Supergiant despite drawing dark skinned people the way she does. It’s because studios recognize when their target audiences are not perturbed by, and therefore will still buy, their product. If poorly drawn Black people does not perturb audiences enough to affect the almighty dollar- or, in fanart situations, the value of popularity- then there’s no motivation to stop doing it! Who cares about the value and the demeaning of Black fans, right?

Think about it like this. You remember how everyone bullied the Sonic studio and they scrapped their entire reel? People do not get that much up in arms in solidarity about the antiblack treatment and depiction of Black characters. It’s how you end up with Wyll Ravengard on the drop of BG3. Because Larian could have stood on business, had some integrity, and said “this is a character we are going to develop, because there will be fans that look like Wyll, and deserve to receive our best efforts at inclusion.”

But instead, Larian said “this is what our majority fanbase wants, and apparently it is not a well-developed Black character” and released that game as it was. To rousing success. That was a choice. The antiblackness of both the fans and the studio, via their lack of concern about Black gamers, was involved in making that decision. We have to let go of the idea that antiblack racism is incidental, and not a part of the process- and that includes in character design.

I cannot tell you how much it shrivels my heart inside when I see a “Black” character with wavy hair. One, because I know the artist’s first thought was not to have a Black character with wavy hair, but because they draw white people with that hair and thought it was transferrable. Two, because if you wanted the aesthetic of hair down to the back… Locs could have worked! The same shape would be there! You can style locs in any way, and it would be fine! Even if you wanted them to have thinner hair, fine, but… I can see where the intent (and the lack thereof) is. We can see when you aren’t even trying for us!

I asked Angel how he felt about creating the “white man with the brown bucket” images, curious about how he felt given that he is more than capable of drawing Black people. His response was noteworthy, and consistent with my hypothesis:

“Thinking about it, these two drawings have been the most difficult thing I’ve had to draw, period. And it’s the first time I’ve actually felt nauseous during the drawing process from start to finish. I constantly felt like I was fighting off the part of myself that knew better, telling me that this is wrong. It felt like a betrayal, knowing what Black people actually look like and still choosing to be disrespectful. Especially because I worked on the first two and immersed myself in references and also Black youtubers, researching Black hairstyles. It felt like a betrayal to all of that to call these two (deliberately poorly drawn) characters Black, because they’re not. None of the Black people I found during my research (both photo references and videos) looked like these. at all. It felt cheap, it felt lazy. Creatively lazy in the way that you just take a white person and paint-bucket them brown and call it a day. In the way it makes you feel no pull to change what you do, or learn something new. Kinda like a thought terminating cliche. Unlike the first two, I used no references for them, but I mostly based them off of actual designs I’ve seen in fandoms, both fanmade and not.”

Conclusion

So what I want us to consider for now is: if we know that’s not what Black people look like, but so many people are willing to do and/or accept it without any mental dissonance… how much do they care? Why is this allowed to ‘pass’, if we recognize that it is not accurate, unless we think what we are being presented with is acceptable? Or at least, not worth fighting over? Why not? Why do you not think that this Black character deserves to be unambiguously Black? And why does that ‘better’ way to exist always come back to whiteness?

We’re going to get into this, as well as more into the other, more overt and equally harmful manifestation of these beliefs in the next lesson on Whitewashing! But I want you to simmer on this part, first.

When you draw a character that you want to be Black, not only should you keep in mind your intent of how you’re going to draw them, but it also means putting in the work to make sure you’re doing so. You do not put pen to paper and “accidentally” draw a white man lol, it came from somewhere- let’s shatter that connection that views white features as superior, as 'ideal for attention grabbing', so we can create better. Because remember, it is the thought that counts, but the action that delivers!

[targaryenluvs]

— newcomer

pairing: dark!luke castellan x childofaphrodite!reader

summary: luke becomes quite infatuated with you, the newcomer of the camp.

tw: obsession, stalking, distancing from friends, intimidation, luke is like deep in love, my horrible attempt at describing love? kinda lovebomby, mentions of violence/luke attacking others

word count: 1k words

a/n: my second pjo fic! i think percy is next 👀 - i don’t think i outright described a female reader, let me know if i did so i can change it!! i i’m going to try and be more inconspicuous with genders to fit all ❤️

right from the start, luke could tell there was something special about you.

of course he was to introduce himself to the new kids but for once he wanted to meet you. with a warm smile and his reassuring words, you were made to feel at home quite quickly.

you’d thought of luke being friendly in general before learning of the hermes cabin and his welcoming nature, but it didn’t seem to change anything between the two of you. luke was an excellent guide in your eyes, helping you settle into your new life, you were undeniably thankful for him.

he was a pitstop for many, if not all campers once they entered the place, a familiar face to help them all. but for you he seemed to go above and beyond. he wanted you to be as comfortable as possible, and he believed himself to be the key in your life at camp half-blood to happiness. you made him happy.

your bright smile and endearing personality melted his heart, you were a breath of fresh air and he couldn’t wait to bask in it.

even after you were claimed, by aphrodite nonetheless, you stuck around. it made sense to him, you were the most breathtaking person he’d ever seen. whether it was a smile from afar or a long conversation, you always made it a point in your day to spend time with him.

you wouldn’t do that for nobody now would you?

no, your sweet self was kind, especially to him. you liked him, like he liked you, and he’d be damned if he let you go.

you seemed to be the only person who didn’t notice his disdain towards those around you. the way he’d linger around the ares boy who’d been chatting you up at breakfast, the same boy who’d been attacked from behind during capture the flag, suffering a nasty slice on his back.

or how he’d humiliated one of your friends during archery, correcting their stance, taunting their attempts to hit the bullseye, throwing them off and laughing at them when they missed. it was all in good fun, right?

he was like a shadow, unwavering and lurking.

it wasn’t uncommon to find luke a few metres away from wherever you were. to find him accompanying you to dinner, to find the two of you practicing together early in the morning, alone, to focus better of course. slowly but surely he wriggled his way back into your life, all consuming and prominent.

until it was seen as odd to find you alone.

seemingly tied together, woven, meant to be. you completed him, you made him feel alive. you made luke feel electric, on fire almost. your presence and touch began to comfort him most, your voice being the only one to bring him down.

and when you were taken from him, whether by others or in general, he was unbearable.

the shining luke castellan crumbled without his support. he needed you, depended on you, like fire and oxygen, plants and sunlight, a song and dance. you kept him going, you filled his life with purpose, he wasn’t luke castellan, son of hermes, counseller, confidante, friend.

he was lu, he was yours, he was your ‘sunshine’.

and as if he wasn’t already insatiable with you as his friend, when you’d admitted your crush on him, luke was on a whole other level.

“lu,” he hummed, turning his head your way, “i want, i need to tell you something.” the soft grass, the warm sun and gentle breeze, they all calmed his erratic heart. what did you have to say? he despised the idea of not knowing what you were thinking.

luke waited with bated breath, his nails digging into his palm, pressure building, his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, not that you’d notice, he wouldn’t let you. “what is it sweetheart?” the two of you were sitting now, previously laid next to eachother on the picnic blanket.

“i think, i think i like you.”

and how could you not?

luke was the epitome of a gentleman, the kindest man you’d ever met. he made you feel special, you could always rely on your sunshine. in the months the two of you had known each other, it seemed he now knew you like the back of his hand. what you liked, what you disliked, the places you wanted to go and the places you’d been. you’d bared your soul to him, and you could only pray he loved you as you did him.

he was your strength, your courage, your friend, even if you hoped for more. he’d been there for you since the start, and you’d be forever grateful. so why not raise your relationship? fully commit to the one person who knew everything?

he’d crafted himself to be yours, to be everything you could ever wish for, as you were for him. luke had been waiting for your complete devotion, and he had it now, no one could make him let go. people often came and went in his life, leaving him in the past, he often felt taken advantage of, he gave up on the idea of someone to stay.

but you’d stay, blind with devotion and poisoned by his love, who on earth and in the heavens could treat you better than him?

your loyal luke.

“well i have a secret for you, only you.”

your eyes lifted to meet his, a small smile on your lips, “tell me luke,” his hand reached for yours, “what’s your secret?” your favourite flower, suddenly pulled from behind your head, placed behind your ear.

“i love you too.” he surged forwards, capturing you by surprise.

was this bliss? is this what it felt to be in love?

luke was intoxicating, his strong hands and loving voice, it consumed you. it was all so much, and it was all you’d ever wanted.

but a small voice in the back of your head was prominent.

you’d never said a single thing about love.

[alvojake]

❛ ━━━━ Gamer Boyfriend Riki

「paring」 : bf!riki x fem!reader 「word count」 : 1k

「genre」 : headcanon, fluff, semi-crack

「warning」 : skinship and kissing, I believe that's about it!

「notes」 : nana (@rikstar) started blowing up my phone with how riki deprived she was so I am here to offer gamer bf riki headcanons to help satisfy her needs for the time being 😭

⪩ Gamer BF!Riki who will leave one side of his headset off just in case you needed anything from him because he will always put your wants and needs over his game.

⪩ Gamer BF!Riki who is willing to stop whatever he’s doing if you were to call out for him, even if it was for the smallest thing, even if it meant that he had to go back to his friend who would either nag at him for throwing the match or teasing him because of how down-bad he was for you.

⪩ Gamer BF!Riki who keeps his desk and minifridge stocked with all of your favorite snacks and drinks because he knows how much you love to snack. Sometimes even goes as far as writing little notes to stick to the packaging just to see your cute smile whenever you grab something from the drawer and because you always press a kiss either on his cheek or the side of his neck depending on if he was in a match or not.

⪩ Gamer BF!Riki who will try to get you to play a match with him, but will laugh when you start pouting or raging because you couldn’t figure out how the controls work and would die almost instantly after leaving the lobby. although he’s also quick to help teach you how to play, hands over yours but only after he kisses the pout off of your lips and it's replaced by a wide smile.

⪩ Gamer BF!Riki who always wants to have you near him at all times, like 24/7, finding comfort in your touch and presents so you tend to find yourself perched in his lap, clinging to his body like a koala while he plays.

⪩ Gamer BF!Riki who if you are in his lap will kiss you anywhere he can, your head, cheek, shoulder, whatever was closest at the time, whenever he goes back into the lobby and checking in on you making sure that you were okay and comfortable, but will smile like a love sick puppy if you had fallen asleep on him, your face buried in the crook of his neck.

⪩ Gamer BF!Riki who will ditch his friends in a heartbeat if you wanted to play animal crossing with him. the two of you cuddled up on his bed, switches in hand while you decorated your shared island. he also decorated the house because you claim that ‘he’s better at it than you’.

⪩ Gamer BF!Riki who loves when the two of you play multiplayer games together because he enjoys watching you get so competitive, doing everything in your power to win against him. sometimes he’ll throw the game just to see your face light up in excitement when you saw that you had won, rubbing it in his face which only caused him to laugh.

⪩ Gamer BF!Riki who will play minecraft in creative mode just so he could build you random things then will look like an excited puppy whenever you see those things when the two of you play together.

⪩ Gamer BF!Riki who when he rage quits will toss his headset on the desk before crawling into his bed where you’re laying and just lay down on you, head on your chest without saying a word. he will pout whenever you tease and coo at him, but will instantly melt into your touch when you run your fingers through his unkempt hair.

⪩ Gamer BF!Riki who will try to keep his voice down if it was late at night and you were sleeping, because the last thing he wanted was to wake you up. and he didn’t like it when you scolded him so it was better to play it safe.

⪩ Gamer BF!Riki who gets all giddy and happy whenever he sees that you designed a character for the both of you in sims. and if you gave yourself his last name? that boy would turn into a mushy puddle in his seat.

⪩ Gamer BF!Riki who will wrap his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him whenever you sit in his lap to play a game. his chin resting on your shoulder, watching everything you do with such a keen eye that he was sure he had memorized all of your ticks.

⪩ Gamer BF!Riki who is just the biggest simp in the world whenever you wore one of his hoodies, loving how tiny you looked in the oversized fabric, bonus points if you just woke up and were sitting in the middle of his bed with that sleepy pout on your lips and your hair was a mess.

⪩ Gamer BF!Riki who will also thank you repeatedly whenever you would bring over his favorite boba, his eyes shining brightly when you even went as far as drawing small doodles on the cup.

⪩ Gamer BF!Riki who will always facetime you whenever you aren’t already at his apartment, not caring that he was in the middle of a match or not, he couldn’t last a day without seeing your face or hearing your cute voice.

⪩ Gamer BF!Riki who lit up like a christmas tree whenever you bought the both of you matching headsets.

⪩ Gamer BF!Riki who will always play a game with you even if he is unsure if he will like it or not, but he’s always willing to try whenever it comes to you.

⪩ Gamer BF!Riki who will pout like a puppy whenever you giggle at him after he gets jumpscared while playing a horror game.

⪩ Gamer BF!Riki who will become a flustered mess whenever you start teasing him and complimenting him because he was wearing his glasses. even better when they’re the cute wireframe glasses that you had bought for him because you were sure that he would look cute in them, and of course he does.

@alvojake | Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or repost any of my work

𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ꜱᴇʀɪᴏᴜꜱʟʏ.

[shiny-jr]

not my world [ prologue ]

– Summary: One day you wake in a foreign world with nothing to your name except the clothes on your back. A talking cat named Grim, gives you your only lead to return home. Seek out the seven gods and pray they answer your plea.

– Warning: Yes, this series is a yandere thing, although this post really isn't. Gender-neutral reader.

– Characters: Grim.

– Note: Think of this like a test, just to see how it's received. Yes, this is based off that outlander post I made a while ago. I was thinking I could make this a long-lasting series. However, it really depends how y'all like it. There's not too much going on here, because I'm trying to set the scene and I wrote it all fairly quickly. However, it's just a small taste. So, let me know what y'all think.

– Pages: 11

“So… you’re saying that you woke up here on this beach with no explanation, but you’re from another world so you have no idea where you are? You fell asleep in your own bed, in your own home, and now you’re here, with no way to go back?” 

As far fetched as it sounded, you could only grimly nod. A dream, this should’ve just been a nightmare. But that was confirmed to be false when you pinched yourself multiple times and tried to splash yourself with the nearby ocean water. Everything felt so real, from the sand between your toes to the breeze in the air and the sunlight drying the water off the surface of your flesh. You wanted it to be nothing but a dream, especially when you found a talking cat with a forked tail and blue fire in his ears. 

This was your third attempt trying to explain things to this impish but rather harmless little furball, and each time he seemed more puzzled than the last. His little black nose twitched as he sat in front of you, his paws digging into the sand as those strange eyes of his studied you closely. His voice was grating, high-pitched, speaking with a tone of doubt. “You don’t look like you’re from any of the seven nations. No pointed ears, no beast features, not even a magestone to your name! Well, it makes sense. A nobody like you obviously wouldn’t have a magestone anyways.” 

That was probably meant to be an insult, but considering you didn’t even know what a magestone was, you didn’t really take any offense at all. Pointed ears, beast features, magestones, annoying talking cats– you really didn’t care about any of that. “Because I’m not from whatever seven nations there are. I already told you where I’m from.” 

“Yeah, well I never heard of wherever it was you said. So get lost, would you, human? I’ve claimed this beach alrea–” 

A low growl rang in the air. Swiftly you scanned your surroundings, fearful that you were about to be attacked by some mythical beast. However, when you looked back to the feline who now looked quite ashamed, you realized the noise came from his stomach. Actually, the little fellow seemed pretty scrawny, and you could just barely make out the shape of his ribs poking out of his sides. 

Standing up, you brushed off the sand clinging to the oversized t-shirt you fell asleep in. Thankfully, you at least had sandals, which was better than waking up here barefoot. With one look around, there didn’t appear to be anyone for miles, and no sign of civilization here. Leaving the cat as your only option to turn to, as jarring as it was to be speaking to a cat. “Er… Look, if you could at least help me find people, a shelter, a city, something– then I’ll see about getting you something to eat. Deal?” 

“I don’t need your help! But… I’m curious, so I’ll follow anyway.” 

“Great…” You sigh, as you decide to follow a path that leads away from the shoreline and into woodlands. At the very least, you were not completely alone. This would be much more terrifying if you had woken up and there was absolutely no one around. “So, do you have a name or are you, like, feral?” 

“I’m not feral!” It hissed as it walked in tandem beside you, keeping up with your steady pace. “Since I am so great, I will allow you to know my name. I am the all-mighty Grim! One-of-a-kind and destined to one day become strong, powerful enough to defeat even the seven gods!” 

“Seven gods…?” Was this some sort of fantasy setting? It had to be. First he mentioned pointed ears and beast-people, and you were having a conversation with a talking cat! Maybe seven gods were the least outlandish thing you’ve heard today. “Well, I’m (Y/n).” 

“You’ve never heard of The Seven? How stupid could you be?” 

You frowned at his toothy little grin as he ridiculed you for your knowledge on a place you just ended up in. “Well excuse me for not knowing anything about this place I just ended up in!” Tearing your gaze away, you saw a cabin up ahead. It appeared abandoned, so there wasn’t any hope of seeing another person yet. Still, there may be something useful inside, so you approach. 

Trying the knob, you found the lock jammed. The wood of the front door was rotting, some of it in splitters and the windows were shattered. With a few strong kicks, the door became dislodged and finally gave way beneath the pressure. 

“You’re excused– hey! Tuna!” You didn’t even bother stopping the feline when he rushed into the abandoned cabin, sprinting after the few cans of tuna he spotted on an old table. At least he would get to eat. 

You didn’t particularly care for canned fish that’s been sitting there for who knows how long. In practically a blink of the eye he had devoured three whole cans of the stuff and licked the remnants off of his whiskers. 

“Okay, okay, since I feel so bad for you, and because you found these tuna cans, I’ll be your guide. That way, I don’t owe you nothin’ after this! Maybe one day, if you’re still around, you’ll see me ascend to the ranks among the archons and you can brag like I knew him! Isn’t Grim so cool and praise worthy? I might even remember you and accept your prayers! You can thank me now.” 

At his smug expression, you squinted incredulously as he began walking down the path in the middle of the woods once more. Following hesitantly, thankful there was daylight and this seemed like a particularly nice forest, save for the very depths of it further away from the road that were dark due to the cover of leaves and branches above. However, the trees closest to you weren’t so dense, and the sunlight filtered through the thin foliage. The dirt road was wide, but slightly covered with scattered blades of grass and underbrush, as if no one had used it in a long while. Squirrel-like critters darted about in trees, strange fruits hung on low-branches, and foreign flowers sprouted alongside little ponds. 

“I’ll thank you after an explanation and a little help. So, what’s this about gods?” 

“Let’s see… I’ll put it so simple that even a baby can understand! There are seven nations, and each one has a god. These gods are super-powerful! I’m talking crazy-strong, like they can level mountains and raise the sea type of miracles!” 

As he strolled beside you, his forked-tail swished back and forth. For now it seemed like he knew where he was going, so hopefully that was a good sign. Right now, you had no idea what to do or how to get home. However, if magic existed in this realm, then surely there would be some way to get back. There had to be, for your own peace of mind. 

“Maybe if you pray to one, you’ll get an answer. But the chances of that are pretty much zero, because only idiots rely on the gods since they almost never answer. You’d have a better chance trying to actually meet one of them and try to talk to them in person, but good luck with that!” 

As the road neared a cliff, you caught a glimpse of the scenery. It was a kingdom, a whole city that began right at the edge of a vast meadow. The rolling valley ended at a river, across a wide stone bridge where the city began. Miles and miles of cobblestone roads lined with two to three-story buildings, and rising above it all was a white palace with red conical roofs that pierced the very sky. It looked fantastical, like something straight out of a peculiar little story book, especially considering how unnaturally bright the flowers were and how there was the occasional mushroom as tall as a tree. 

Never before in your entire life had you ever seen a single place like this. Some stupid naive little part of yourself had hoped that perhaps you were still in your world, but this was simply proof that tore that little shred of hope to bits. “What is this place…?” 

He paused to scratch a spot behind his ear. “That’s the capital city of Heartslabyul. You see that big palace all the way over there? That’s where the god of fire lives. One day, I’m gonna live in a place even bigger, grander, than that! My worshippers will build, brick by brick, a towering temple that reaches the very heavens! It’ll make that palace look puny in comparison!” 

Dumbfounded, you nearly get left behind in your stupor once the feline begins to walk down a rocky slope again. You follow, as Grim yammered on and on, “Fire is harsh, just like that place. Trust me, I tried staking a claim there, but I was kicked out! Can you believe it? Me! They just threw me out as if I were nothing! Anyways, I already forgot what you were looking for, but whatever it is, you’ll probably find something there––” 

“A way home?” You reminded him, a tiny bit irked that he seemed to forget so easily. For such a haughty little beast with nothing to his name, he was very conceited. 

“Ooh yeah, right. That. Gods have all this magic and wisdom from their years and stuff, so they gotta know something. But if I were a god, I wouldn’t answer you, to be honest.” 

Grumpily you point out the obvious. This cat-like creature was far from the divine that you were currently picturing. “You’re not a god.” 

Yowling in response, Grim shot back with irritation, “Yet! Not a god yet!” When he spat, a small puff of smoke and a spark of flames he tried to aim at the dirt caused his blue ear flames to flicker stronger until one stray flame popped like a hot scorching coal. It went flying directly at your face, and all you could do was react quickly enough to try and step back while your arms and hands covered your face. 

However, no pain ever came. “How are you doing that?!” 

“Doing what? And you need to watch it with––” When you began to lower your arms, you saw it. When you had shielded yourself, your knuckles had been against your cheek and so your palm was facing outward. Floating in your open palm, was that small spark that came from his ears and nearly burned you. Immediately your eyes widened, and the surprise didn’t end there. As if fluctuating with your shock, the fire became a small yet harsh monetary crackling burst that caused both you and the feline to yelp and stumble back in disbelief until your palms were normal once again. 

“You big fat liar! You do know magic! Where’s your magestone?” 

Seeing his gray fur stand on edge, you quickly answered, seemingly just as confused as he currently was. “I-I don’t, I swear! I don’t even have a wizardstone! That has never happened to me before! This, magic, stuff like that, talking cats, huge mushrooms, none of this is supposed to be real!” 

“Magestone! Not wizardstone! M-A-G-E!” 

“Same difference, what do I care?” You had to double-check your hands, wanting to trick yourself again into believing it was something that could be easily explained. Yet this didn't seem like that. This was something else entirely that didn’t make sense, it couldn't be explained. Not while you were still reeling and staring at your own two hands in utter disbelief. “What the hell was that…?” 

Sniffing the air around you, Grim paced slowly around you as his whiskers twitched with each sniff. After several rounds circling you, he plopped down in front of you and peered up at you quizzically. “I really don’t smell a magestone on you… but you used my fire! It was blue! Everyone knows you can’t use magic without one! Wait a moment… this is perfect!” Immediately brightening up, the little creature gave a toothy grin as he declared, “From now on, you will be my servant! One day when I am a god, I will make you a demi-god! Everyone knows the great gods have divine or mystic servants of some kind! So you will be my henchman! Count yourself blessed, human.” 

“What…?” For now you didn’t even want to touch anything, especially yourself. What if you just tapped something and it was set ablaze? Although you felt fine physically, you were not completely okay. Mentally your mind was scrambled with trying to comprehend everything going on and being said, and now you had the additional burden of accidentally burning everything you touched. 

“Maybe it has to do with the fact that you aren’t from here, so this world’s rules don’t even apply to you… yeah, that’s it! This is great! Does this mean you can wield other elements? We should try! If it storms tonight, we’ll stand at the highest cliff and wait for lightning to strike!” 

“Definitely not!” You screech in reply, currently trying to prevent yourself from panicking and having a destructive mental breakdown all at the same time. Keeping your arms away from your body and fingers spread apart, you tentatively try grabbing stones and sticks and blades of grass to test the ability and see if anything would be set ablaze. And yet, nothing happened, so you slowly began to relax, as much as was possible in that moment. 

Grim watched with great intrigue, hoping, wishing, to see you burn something straight with your hands. However, when he saw not a single spark or sign of smoke, he sighed, “Don’t you realize the possibilities! A small chosen few can wield magic like that, and even then, it’s only one element! This means that you might be able to do more! We’ll be legendary, beating every foe we come across!” 

“Woah, woah, woah, who said anything about beating foes?” Cutting off that idea right now before it would get out of hand. It had only been a few minutes, not even an hour, and even you could see that Grim was a handful. “I am no fighter. If I magically somehow have these weird abilities now, doesn’t mean I want to fight with them. Are you insane? The most I’ll do is like… instantly heat up my food or make a light in the dark. That’s it. Actually, that first one sounds pretty useful…” 

Angrily throwing his paws up in exasperation while falling back on some patches of grass, he groaned, “Ugh, but that’s so boringggg! Where’s your creativity? You could become a god among gods!” 

Choosing to ignore his less than enthusiastic response, you proceeded, drawing his attention back to something he recently mentioned. Awkwardly you grip your hands, twisting your wrist between your fingers, yet nothing hurts. Everything felt normal, as if you hadn’t just wielding fire a minute ago. “You said a god of fire resided over there in that city, right?” 

“Yeah, you’ll fit right in with all those hot-headed fire-breathers now that you have a bit of magic.” 

As the two of you neared the bottom of the cliff and approached a smaller section of the forest that would lead directly to the road that branched off into either a vast meadow or the gates of the kingdom, the world seemed to stop when a loud rumbling rang through the air. The birds ceased their singing songs and the squirrelish creatures paused their chittering chattering. The ground shook and in the far distance, miles and miles behind the palace where there looked to be nothing but untamed wilderness, balls of fire spewed forth from what you had thought were mountains but were actually volcanoes. Seeing the smoke pour out from the peak, you debated running right back to the beach which was in the opposite direction of the rupture in the earth. 

While initially startled, Grim quickly relaxed and began his walking again just as the sounds of nature resumed their tune. As if by some miraculous work of magic, the volcano stopped its rumbling just as quickly as it began, and the smoke receded as well. Like a pot popping on a stovetop and simmering over with water, but its vapor and contents contained by a top, that’s how rapidly it started and ended. Grim proceeded to walk in front of you to lead the way. Sensing your question before you even voiced it, he called out over his shoulder, 

“Don’t look so panicked, we’re not gonna die. That happens like once a week. It used to be more sparse but… well, like I said, all the humans in the kingdom are a buncha hotheads. Especially their king! Everyone knows the god of pyro has the worst temper of all the seven, that’s why the volcanoes go off when he’s all angry! All you gotta do is gather up the courage to ask him what you want to know, and pray that he doesn’t incinerate you where you stand.”

[hannieehaee]

i love your writing i always check your page everyday! i was wonder we can get some brat reader x scoups or dk?? like we are messing with him around the members or going out somewhere without their permission? if not i totally understand and will still continue to support your writing! :)

18+ / mdi

content: jealous!cheol, possessive!cheol, brat!reader, afab reader, established relationship, smut, dry humping, grinding, etc.

wc: 1575

a/n: idk where i was going with this im sorry if it makes no sense T-T thank u for requesting </3

masterlist

if there was one defining characteristic about your boyfriend, it was his pride.

seungcheol always thought himself to be a capable and dependable man, which were a few of the characteristics he took most pride in. as the leader of his group, he was always meant to take care of his members and provide a solid foundation for his younger brothers to rely on.

similarly to his members, he always took care of you. however, along with that also came his possessive and strict nature.

as a natural leader, seungcheol always expected instruction to be followed. he wasnt a dictator nor unfair by any means, but he expected his authority to be respected. he afforded you the same respect, but he would quickly grow frustrated whenever he felt himself be challenged by you; something that happened quite often.

it was usually just fun banter. he would ask or do something, you'd be a brat and get in the way, and he would then play along until growing too frustrated at your overly playful nature and either whine at you or punish you (it'd depend on his mood, really).

today, this dynamic was presented in the form of you popping in for a quick visit during dance practice. cheol had always told you you were welcome to stop by whenever you wanted, even letting security know that you were to be admitted in upon uttering his name when inquired for the reason of your visit. you didn't visit every day, but you made it a habit of dropping in at least once a week (specially considering your boyfriend worked seven days a week).

upon your arrival, a few of seungcheol's members dropped what they were doing to go say hi to you and engage in conversation. cheol knew them to be overly excited at times, so he always sat back for a minute or two before jumping in on the conversation. today, he did the same, waiting a bit before joining you, jeonghan and mingyu while the rest of the members continued what they'd been doing before your arrival – practicing.

usually you'd interrupt them only for a few minutes, but today was different for some reason.

cheol could read you very easily, and he was suspicions of your smile from the moment you'd walked in. it was the same smile you'd have on your face any time you challenged his patience for fun for seemingly no reason. he grew completely certain that your intent today had been to be a brat when he finally attempted to get the members to settle back down and go back to practice. you'd immediately whined in disagreement, causing the members to join in, now claiming you wanted to go get a quick snack with the members, since apparently, you had been missing them lately. now he not only had to deal with one brat, but with multiple.

"c'mon, cheollie! you guys are all sweaty, i'm sure you've been at this all day. a quick break wont hurt you," you argued, fueled by the nods in agreement coming from his friends.

"baby ... we have a schedule to follow, you know that. you can come back when it's our usual lunch time."

"okay, you don't have to come. i can just go with hannie and gyu."

he knew you were just trying to annoy him. you had at no time mentioned any wish to hang out with his friends prior to this moment.

"baby–"

"yeah, cheollie. we'll keep her company, dont worry."

jeonghan joining in on your brattiness was exactly what cheol needed in this moment. specially as he walked over to cuddle against you as you both smirked at cheol in defiance.

"you coming, gyu?", you looked over at mingyu, who also seemed to grasp seungcheol's annoyed disposition.

"uh, i ... sure, i'll go, i–"

"baby, can i talk to you for a moment?", he was annoyed at your stubbornness, but he still did not wish to blow up in front of all his members, knowing they'd tease him over how easy he was to rile up.

"you can say whatever you wanna say here, right y/nnie? we're all friends here", interrupted the parasite that was his best friend, swaying you back and forth as you giggled at the way he so outwardly defied his friend.

that was enough for cheol. he knew there was no way for you to have planned on having jeonghan copy your brattiness so easily, but he blamed you nonetheless.

with that, he grabbed you by the arm, ripping you away from his friend before storming out with you. he led you to the empty resting room that was connected to the practice room before turning to look at you.

"tired of being a brat yet?"

"hmm," you tapped your chin as if actually thinking it over, "nah."

he walked over to you, making you walk back as your entertained smile remained on your face. he was glad to know you found this all so entertaining; something he voiced to you immediately after.

"i'm sorry, cheollie, you're just so fun to rile up."

"did you want me to put you in your place, baby? got bored of waiting for me back home?", he got closer to you with every passing second, eventually basically pinning you against the wall.

"maybe ... so ... are you gonna?", you grinned at him.

"am i gonna what?"

"gonna put me in my place? here, where they all know what's going on behind this door?"

"oh? you think i wont? you think their presence is gonna deter me from fucking you into whatever piece of furniture is nearest?", his eyes were darker than ever, mouth just inches away from yours. he could feel your goosebumps rising from his close proximity.

"but what about practice, cheollie? i thought you were sooo bus–"

"fuck practice."

only five minutes later and you were already bent over the couch, skirt pushed over to uncover your ass as he ground his clothed crotch against you, stimulating no one but himself.

after having abused your lips with his for a few minutes, he had felt you up in every way you loved, tweaking at your nipples and even rubbing at your cunt through your clothes. he thoroughly made you believe he'd fuck the brattiness out of you, only to then flip you over and bend you to his liking, grinding his hardened cock against your ass while you whined at him to do something more.

"no, baby ... this is all for me. gonna teach you to not be a brat by giving you the barest minimum. want more? then be good next time ... now take what im giving you and be thankful."

"y– yes, cheollie ..."

"god, what a pretty baby ... if only you were just as obedient as you are pretty."

"i am! i'm good, i was just ... just wanted your attention so bad."

"yeah? couldve just told me you needed me, baby. wouldve come home running to you. didnt have to team up with hannie to piss me off."

he angled you a little higher for his cock to finally drag against your cunt rather than your ass, now giving you some friction as you began to push back against him.

"shit, just like that, baby. push it back for me like a good girl."

"didnt– didnt plan it, baby, i swear! i was gonna take you guys out to eat and then steal you away ... didnt know hannie was gonna join in on it ..."

"oh, yeah? you were being good, then? just got corrupted by hannie? hmm. that's too bad, angel. still gotta punish you for that."

"j– just please! dont stop ... feels so good ... cock feels so good against my cunt ..."

he continued to hold you by your hips, almost bruising them by the sheer force in which he forced you to grind back against him. he knew neither yours nor his orgasm would be as satisfying as could be, but he needed to make his point.

accelerating both the speed and strength of his grinding, he found himself almost at his end, deciding to show you some mercy by digging through the front of your skirt and rubbing rapidly at your clit through your panties.

"gonna cum with me, baby? gonna give it to me even if they're listening in on the other side? huh?"

"yes, cheollie! almost there, just– fuck!"

your pretty moans as you lost yourself to the pleasure were enough to get seungcheol to reach his peak too, pushing himself up against you once more as he released inside his pants. he caressed the bare skin of your ass under your skirt as he helped you stand at your full height again, kissing at your hair as he told you what a good girl you were for him, brattiness almost wiped from his mind.

"angel ...", now was time to scold you.

"im sorry, cheollie ... just felt lonely and wanted to come visit you ... i was just gonna steal you away for a bit. forgot hannie has a boner for mischief and would try and make you blow up. sorry, baby."

he couldnt help but chuckle at that. you were bratty, but you were still his obedient girl. all was good in the world.

"c'mon, angel. let me grab some clothes so we can change, yeah? then ill take you home."

"but practic-"

"you were right. i could use a break. let's go."

[giamee]

𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐌𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐓𝐘!

╭─────────────────────── ( 🫀 )

there's a certain beauty and pain in being with someone carnally, and nothing more than that

› 〉 📂 .ೃ | friends with benefits, more angst than smut, like this is basically all angst no smut lol, kinda short too mb

header art (left to right) by pcrow ; artsquirre ; _sekidesu

╰─➤ 💌 ₍₁₎ being in a situationship is all fun and games until u catch feelings fr 😕. anyways. let's go thru that pain in this. lowkey i wanna make a part 2 to this with a happy ending cos im SOFT lmaooo

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 ALHAITHAM.

BEING IN... WHATEVER THIS RELATIONSHIP COULD BE CLASSIFIED AS was not good for your mental health. in the past weeks that you and alhaitham had started sleeping together, you had been plunged into one of the worst emotional rollercoasters that you had ever been on.

what didn't help was the way he treated you so differently depending on the setting. you understood not wanting people to know, but did he have to ignore you entirely in public?

he wouldn't even spare you a glance as you walk past each other in the halls, eyes stubbornly trained ahead, leaving you steamrolled in his icy trail. and if you dare to try and talk to him- he'd look at you like you've grown a second head, completely shunning you and walking away as quickly as possible.

but it's a different story behind closed doors- in private, he's the sweetest man alive.

he'll whisper such sweet nothings into your ear, wipe your tears so tenderly with his thumbs like a lover would. he'd prop himself up with an elbow just so that he can gaze into your eyes as he pushes into you, even smiling at you as he watches the way your expression changes.

and the way he kisses you is what really throws you- always with such desperation and urgency, like he needs you in order to breathe when it's quite the opposite. he kisses you like he loves you, and the sensation is dizzying, perplexing when those fantasies are ripped from you in favour of reality.

but you know that you won't ever be his. not properly.

if it was meant to be, he'd at least smile at you as he passed. the more rational parts of your brain screamed at you to call it quits before you're sucked in too deep, but some part of you still held onto the hope that one day he would see you then smile.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 THOMA.

IT TRULY HURT TO REMEMBER THAT you weren't actually dating thoma. it was easy to get fooled- he was a gentleman, making sure to treat you right even when you weren't fucking. he'd make sure that you were okay, and he never kicked you out as soon as it was over.

he'd ask about your day, take interest in you and what you're doing. and arguably, worst of all, he wasn't afraid to be seen with you. the details that blurred the lines defining your relationship seemed like an afterthought, if the way his arm wrapped around your shoulders indicated anything.

you were his, unofficially or not. it only took a glance to be able to tell.

you liked to think that he was yours, too. that you meant something to him- more than just a pastime and a stress reliever.

there were moments where it was easier to believe it- with the way his eyes remain transfixed on you as you writhe in pleasure, cries of his name leaving your lips- his little coos and reassurances buttering you up, having you right in his palm, so pliant and willing for him.

maybe he got off on knowing that he makes you feel good in every sense of the word. seeing you happy acting as some sort of foreplay, all so he can claim you as his in every way except the one that you wanted most.

the urge to tell him how you feel, those three little words that dangle on the tip of your tongue and fight to be freed, are a constant struggle. but something inside you, some sick gut instinct, stopped you from blurting it out every time.

the fear of his reaction- disgust? confusion? kept you uncertain. a part of you would die if he didn't reciprocate your feelings. it was better not to know, and keep living in the make-belief of being his without the label.

you could only hope that you would be proved wrong one day.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 WRIOTHESLEY.

DESPITE EVERYTHING, YOU COULDN'T HELP BUT crawl back to him every single time. a never-ending cycle- one that you couldn't escape even if you wanted to.

both of you knew how it goes. you unblock him, play coy for a few messages before he's telling you to come over. you fuck like it's the last time you ever will- it never is- and then you spend the night.

he'll hold you, play with your hair, even kiss you, and you pretend that it's enough. if you're lucky, he'll even lend you a shirt that smells of him to sleep in.

and this facade is fine- while it lasts. but then you remember why you blocked him in the first place- the forced indifference, his refusal to open up. the way it hurt your heart to be pushed aside.

and then you go and ask him what you mean to him. he'll smile at you without mirth, the both of you knowing how this conversation goes. he doesn't want anything serious. you want more.

and then it's tears, you ripping off his shirt and throwing it back at him, storming out of his place and blocking his number with shaking fingers.

you cry yourself to sleep in your cold and empty bed- already sorely missing the warmth of his body as he holds you close to him in his sleep, whether he's aware of that or not.

and you're fine, you tell yourself. you can live without him. and you do, for a little while. honestly, he's the last thing on your mind as you distract yourself with work or seeing your friends.

but then a lonely night gets the best of you, abd you find your finger hovering over the call button next to his name. and you press it, cursing yourself for doing it.

he picks up at the third ring, voice smug as if he knew you couldn't go much longer without him.

and he's right, unfortunately.

you're already out the door, on the way to his apartment.

𝜗𝜚 genshin impact masterlist

[zombvic]

Hii, i would like to request for Jude Bellingham 🫶🏻 The match between England and Slovakia just ended sooo i was thinking maybe some little angst with reader from Slovakia (because i'm from there🫶🏻) like he would be sad if she wouldn't wear his jersey or her little mad after the match because her country lost, Thank you, have a great day 💗💗

PATRIOTIC (jude bellingham x reader)

summary : in which y/n is a true patriot to her country

face claim : no-one exact

notes : I LOVE THIS IDEA!!!! given the fact im also slovak (jedine vsž !!!). this match was a traumatic experience tbh and i was on the edge of my seat (literally) while watching.. i feel like jude is doing everything to go against my silly ahh.. first joining the rival (madrid) and now knocking out my country from the euros man.. since slovakia is gone, time to cheer for spain and netherlands #vamosandstuff

pairings : jude bellingham x slovak!reader

y/n, long time girlfriend of jude bellingham, could be considered a patriot when it came to sports. on an average day, you could say she hated slovakia. the politicians were horrid, inflation was growing by the week, dumb decisions made by the parliament. but when there was an international tournament, like the hockey world championship or the euros, her national pride was next level. she would proudly wear her jersey with the double cross and the red, white and blue colors and cheer for slovakia like her life depended on it.

this year, the euros were particularly exciting. slovakia had managed to advance to the round of sixteen after a tense tie with romania. the whole country was buzzing with anticipation. y/n, however, had a unique point of view on all of this. she was dating jude bellingham, the english youngster, and their teams were about to face off.

the atmosphere in the stadium was wild. y/n sat in her seat, heart pounding, wearing her slovakia jersey with her name on the back. jude knew she was here, but he didn’t know she’d be wearing that jersey. until now, hes only seen her wear an england jersey with a big number 10 on the back while he was playing. the round of sixteen had brought slovakia against england, and the tension was kinda scary.

the game started off intensely. slovakia's forward, ivan schranz, scored a goal in the 25th minute, sending the slovak fans into a frenzy. you could hear that "SLOVENSKOOOO" in your bones. y/n couldn't help but join in on the celebrations, her heart filling with pride. she glanced at jude on the field, knowing how badly he wanted to advance, but in that moment, all she wanted was for slovakia to beat england.

as the minutes ticked by, the match felt like it was dragging. england pressed hard, but slovakia's defense held strong. y/n's anxiety grew with each passing second. she knew jude was frustrated, but she also knew he was a relentless player.

then, in the 95th minute, jude did the unthinkable. he scored a stunning bicycle kick, tying the game. y/n’s heart sank. she wanted to jump up and celebrate his incredible goal, but the reality of what it meant for slovakia hit her hard. the game was now tied, and the prospect of overtime sneaked ominously.

another thing that kind of pissed y/n off was the way jude celebrated. i mean, come on. you scored against your girlfriend's national team, and that's how you celebrate? of course, it's a very passionate game, but it still hurt, obviously.

overtime began, and y/n's fear became reality. just 50 seconds in, harry kane scored, putting england ahead. slovakia struggled to find an equalizer, and as the final whistle blew, y/n felt a mix of anger, disappointment, and sadness. slovakia's journey in the euros was over, and it was mainly because of the man she loved.

after the match, jude came looking for y/n, a smile on his face. "did you see my goal?" he asked, clearly excited.

y/n, still wearing her slovakia jersey, felt a surge of annoyance. "yeah, i saw it," she replied curtly. jude's smile faded as he noticed her tone.

"what's wrong?" he asked, genuinely confused.

"jude, read the damn room," y/n muttered, turning away. she didn't want to start an argument here, not now.

jude sighed, sensing her mood. "i’m sorry, baby. i know you wanted slovakia to win."

"of course i did? but it's not just that," she said, her voice softening slightly. "let's just drop it for now."

"alright then.." jude reluctantly agreed and went out to dinner with his teammates to celebrate. y/n stayed behind in their hotel room, her mind racing. she knew she was being irrational, but the mix of emotions was overwhelming. how could she be happy for jude when her own team had been eliminated?

hours passed, and when jude returned, the tension in the room was thick. y/n's frustration had only grown. jude, sensing the impending argument, he tried to lighten the mood. "you know, you looked cute in that slovakia jersey," he teased.

y/n glared at him. "really, jude? that's what you want to talk about right now?"

jude's expression hardened. "what's your problem, y/n? i played my heart out there."

"my problem?" y/n snapped. "my problem is that you ruined our chance. you ghosted the whole match and then suddenly scored a stinker in added time."

jude's eyes narrowed. "i was doing my job, y/n. i’m supposed to score goals, remember? and why the hell were you wearing that jersey anyway? do you have any idea how that made me feel?"

"oh, so now it's about your feelings?" y/n shot back. "you think it’s easy for me? watching you celebrate while my team gets eliminated?"

"and you think it was easy for me?" jude retorted. "seeing you cheer for the other team? i thought you’d at least be supportive of me, no matter what."

"other team?? you mean my team??? also, what do you mean by supportive?" y/n scoffed. "how can i support you when you’re one of the main reasons we lost? i know it’s just a game, jude, but it still hurts."

"you’re being ridiculous," jude said, his voice rising. "this isn’t just about the game, is it?"

"of course it is! what are you on about?" y/n replied, tears of frustration welling up in her eyes.

jude ran a hand through his hair, clearly exasperated. "you’re mad at me for doing my job? for helping my team? you knew what this was from the start."

"it's not just about that! it's the way you celebrated, like you didn’t care about what it meant to me!" y/n shot back, her voice breaking. "you scored a goal and acted like you won the fucking world cup. did you even think about how i felt?"

jude’s face softened slightly, but he was still visibly upset. "i’m a footballer, y/n. scoring goals is what i do. it’s my passion, my career. i can’t just switch that off because of you."

"i’m not asking you to switch it off," she said, wiping her eyes. "i’m asking you to be considerate. to think about what it means for me and my country."

jude sighed deeply, frustration giving way to a partial understanding. "i get that, but you need to understand my side too. i can’t not play my best because of our relationship. it’s unfair to my teammates, to the fans."

"i didn’t mean to hurt you," jude said quietly. "i was caught up in the moment. i’m sorry if it came off wrong."

jude stared at her, his anger slowly giving way to realization. "y/n, i never wanted you to feel like that," he said, his tone softening. "i love you, and i cannot imagine you not supporting me from the sidelines."

y/n looked into his eyes, seeing the sincerity there. "okay. but next time, maybe don’t celebrate like you just scored in the finals when you score against us."

jude chuckled softly, pulling her into a hug. "deal. and maybe next time, wear my jersey instead of yours?"

she laughed, the tension finally breaking. "we’ll see about that."

as they held each other, y/n felt the weight of the argument lifting, replaced by a renewed sense of understanding and love. they might come from different worlds, but they were determined to make it work, no matter the challenges.

if anyone was interested in my dads entire match commentary 😊

"a mame po turnaji" means were fucked (basically)😭🙏🏽

[potionpeddlerpatchy]

word count: ~18.2K

paring: God!Shinso x f!Nymph!Reader

warning(s):  dubcon, marking, slight impact play, somnophilia, oral (f!recieveing), creampie, gods as always being manipulative and cruel.

authors note: hello there, I know I promised this much sooner than it is being granted but as I am sure you can see by the word count, this kind of got away from me. This is actually a sequel to Plucked Flower! And when I was discussing with the lovely @/melodramaticmura about who would be which god, it seemed rather appropriate to have Shinso be the god of sleep. And well, I wanted to make a stand-alone fic of that, perhaps even make a series on it, but it was too tempting to have him steal away Sero's prized nymph so here we are. So please, let Shinso guide you into a peaceful slumber~ 🔮

A long time ago, Gods ruled the world.

Everything that the mortals could see, touch, and know were all controlled by the Gods who blessed them with their divine skills and talents. But, over time, the mortals became more dependent - more greedy - with their reliability on these seraphic creatures. As the demands of the mortals they created, and thus cared for, grew to be overwhelming and abundant, they knew they could not stay within their mortal plane any longer; for they were meant to be treated as divinities, not as servants.

And for once, in a rare moment of solidarity, the Gods worked alongside each other to create a home for which they could call their own; an empyrean realm that only they could have access to, which contained all the splendors known to man and even more. A dwelling where they can find peace and tranquility, and to be finally removed from the demands of the mortals; to finally have the undivided devotion they so craved. For it much easier for a mortal to obey the wishes of a God, if they came they came down to them in a beacon of light and gold.

Serve away they did, the mortals, tending to their temples and bringing forth gifts upon their alters; all the while they would lavish in their heavenly realm of gold and marble, to feast upon delicacies, to relish in the prosperity that the mortals provided to them, and indulge in one another; especially if that indulgence was at the expense of a mortal, to provide them with the vanity and sense of superiority they wished to continue to grasp onto.

Through all this splendor, however, it was easy to grow bored. Hanta, like most Gods, grew bored.

For a God could never cherish anything for too long. An immortal life always paired itself with dissatisfaction; for how could a God truly value anything if they did not have a finite time to have it? How could they enjoy splendor if they have not known poverty? How could they value life if they could not know death? And how could they appreciate anything, if all they wanted was more?

Living forever took the beauty of life away. All the love and heartbreak seemed so meaningless after a while when one could find no reason to hold onto it, that in time it could be replaced by a new adventure, a new thrill, and a new body to make claim to. Why keep something when you could easily abandon the old, and seek out something new? 

And despite the many claims he so sweetly whispered within your ear, the many reassurances and acclimations of love, Hanta finally grew bored of you.

You knew it was bound to happen; there truly was only so much a nymph can do to claim the interest of a God. You knew the thrill he found, the infatuation he grew of you, was within the chase of claiming you for himself; the cat-and-mouse game he so perfectly cast and you so perfectly played into was the thrill he wanted within that moment. 

Of course, there was the thrill after he caught you. How he laid you upon his bed day in and out and claimed his prize in any way he could; whether that be with sweet words, soft kisses, warm and gentle caresses, or have you on your knees to worship his aching cock, to then have it drag in and out of your tight hole as you scream his name for the heavens to hear.

It was to fill his ego, to have the most prized and beautiful creature to claim as his own. To have complete and utter control held over you, the utter and undiverted devotion that he pulled from you constantly as you obeyed and worshipped him however he pleased. To relish in, not only your body but the jealousy of the Gods around him as they grew envious of his little pet.

And once he lost interest, once his fellow Gods grew unbothered and uncaring of his treasures, he would find some other way to gain a boost to his ego; regardless of the feelings he may hurt along the way.

You had to give him credit though, it took him much longer for him to lose interest in you than what every other god that filled the heavenly realms, and even yourself, thought. Many said a few weeks, some said a few months, and you thought perhaps a year. Though it was hard to tell given the way time seemed to matter little the more you stayed there, how it moved so quickly and yet not at all at the same time, to say how long before he lost interest but it was certainly longer than a year.

It was gradual too. Slowly, but surely, he left you alone in that small portion of the heavens he carved out for you. What started with him parting from you earlier some mornings, thus leaving the giant bed he shared with you empty, turned into every morning as you would reach for him only to be met with cold silk and loneliness to sink to your heart. And soon, those daily visits he would give to you so diligently, to allow you some much-needed company as you staved away your boredom, soon started to wane. How he used to share his meals, his laughter and companionship, started to bore him and consequently, he began to leave you with small scraps that were left behind the day before as he neglected yet another meal, and as the weeks progressed, leaving you hungry altogether. 

Though despite all of this, he would still return to you at night; to lull you to sleep in his arms and whisper those sweet nothings into your ear until you fell into a blissful sleep. And it was when he stopped arriving in your bed at night that you knew he no longer cared for you. That those declarations of love were truly just empty words so he could use you as he saw fit, like many a god to a nymph before him. Now leaving you to try and find a semblance of peace all alone in a place you did not belong.

You had no other forms of company either for the other gods barely acknowledged you. Some were spiteful that you would tarnish their realm and way of life by simply existing there as if it was your fault you were placed there. Others tolerated you, though they preferred your silence, wanting merely to look at you and nothing else. Others… they wished to have you in more carnal ways; falsely putting on kind airs only to lure you into their trap - much like Hanta - though luckily none was able to do anything untoward before Hanta intervened; but now you knew not to trust them, and to avoid them altogether.

After Hanta abandoned you, you were left alone to fend for yourself. Granted the small piece of heaven that was made for you was beautiful, and gave you some semblance of peace knowing you would not be bothered here - to which you were eternally grateful to Hanta for such a gift - it left you more lonely than you had ever been in your life. Moreso than when you were cast out from your forest of birth by your fellow Anthousai and forced to find a home, and sisterhood, by yourself.

Because through those trials of loneliness and rejection, you did find a sister. One that loved you, that built a home with you, that kept you company in the best and most nurturing of ways; a companion you adored with your whole heart. And one you were tricked to abandon to come here. 

For as lonely as your life got, at least you had her. Here, you had nothing.

You thought of her often, and the memories you shared together, as you lay upon the clouds of gold and splendor alone and unwanted. Thoughts of her made your lonely days more bearable as you reminded yourself of a time when you were wanted, where you were loved, and where you felt happy and fulfilled as you remembered the bouts of laughter shared between the two of you.

Though Nymphs were ageless, they could die in the mortal realm or transform themselves into the nature they were born to nurture. But here? You had no such release, bound to live amongst the gods until the end of days. And as they progressed, you couldn’t help but worry about your sister; you were safe, but was she? Was she still around in your little home within the mountains? Or was she now gone, lost to the passage of time? 

Your worry grew tenfold when, one morning, you tried to remember her face and couldn’t. She was the only thing that tethered you to happiness in this cruel world you found yourself in; the only thing that brought you warmth as you were surrounded by coldness. Your heart could not help but sink with dread as you frantically tried to think of her face. You had to, for she was the reason your sanity was still intact. She was the reason your heart had not broken fully.

You couldn’t help but weep for weeks on end as you slowly realized you were forgetting her.

You knew you could not sit idly by and let this happen to you; to allow these cruel creatures to break your spirit out of amusement. You had to know, had to remember, for it was all you had left; and you were going to cling to it, to fight for it, for all eternity if you had to.

So you waited, with determination blazing your heart and mind, for the God - the man - who caused all of this. Knowing that at some point he will show up and grant you a visit. He would do so every now and then, seemingly almost out of obligation like an owner would for a pet they cared little for. You knew then, you could ask him for a favor.

~

It was hard to tell how long it had been, how long you had been waiting, but finally, the day had come when you were granted a visit from the winged God; the flapping of his wings signalling you, and thus filling your body with hope, as you heard him approach. Scrambling you got to your feet, unable to hide your excitement as you stood, as you waited with bated breath for him to appear.

Hanta brought with him a tray of food, many delicacies that the Gods would indulge in, ambrosia and wine, you were unsure if this was a way for him to apologize for leaving you for so long without a meal, but the proud smile he garnered on his face when he approached you was clear he felt like he was providing you with a gift.

And though you wished to scowl at him, wanting to allow him to know how unfair it was for him to leave you with little food and company, you knew you had to be your usual sweet self if it meant allowing you to get your way. 

You welcomed him with open arms, clinging to him tightly as you knew he loved for you to do, as you babbled sweetly on how much you missed him, nuzzling your face into his chest as a sign of utmost affection.

You could feel him chuckle before the deep and mirthful sound could fill your ears, as he brought a hand to pet your hair “I miss you too, my beautiful flower.”

His gentle petting of your hair turned into gentle tugging, clearly wanting to have your part so he may rest and enjoy the meal he brought; guiding you gently to do the same and he passed you a goblet of wine; deep purple in colour a far cry from the strawberry wine he used to give you.

You sipped it gently as you listened to him regale tales of what had befallen him while he was away, some excuse as to why he could not visit you before now, as he indulged in your quiet devotion. Though after a while, noticing your lack of enthusiasm or want to partake in the glorious meal, he grew a little concerned as he leaned over towards you to pet at your cheek.

“What is wrong, my sweet love?” Hanta asked of you, moving to push a few strands of hair away from your face “You do not seem yourself.”

You found yourself bashful over his sweet gesture, almost surprised that he still held some tenderness for you. With a timid smile, and huff of a laugh you shook your head “No, no, nothing is wrong.”

“I can tell when you are lying, love” Hanta smiled back, ducking his head to look properly at your face; finding your reaction to him filling his sense of pride. “So please, indulge me”

You took the line he was casting, knowing now would be the only time you could possibly have to pluck the courage to ask him; shyly looking back at him as you tried to find the words, forever grateful for his patience as he looks upon you with tender eyes as he waits for you to speak.

“I was just wondering…” You finally began, “Seeing as I have a few myself these past few nights, if… if you gods ever dream?”

Sero scoffed at you, finding your question as silly and innocent as you were, tone almost condescending as he leaned down closer, a hand continuously stroking your cheek. “Oh my dear, of course we don’t. A God has no need for such childish things as dreams, those are silly things we made for mortals to keep them happy.”

You cannot help yourself from turning your eyes downcast at his almost brutal condescension. Taking a moment to compose yourself before you batted your lashes up at him; your wide and sad eyes a weakness you knew to be his when it came to you, as you asked him again, “Hanta, surely there are times when they are needed, even for a God. If what you say is true, if gods have no need for dreams that mortals do, then there is still a need. Therefore there is a God who provides these, and thus can help another God if needed.” 

Hanta began to draw away from you, clearly figuring out where you were trying to lead the conversation. His eyes could not help but turn darker as jealousy began to cloud his vision of your wanting to seek out another god, as his grip upon your head grew tighter. “You want this God, is that it? The God that provides you these sweet dreams, you want him in your bed?”

You tried to shake your head as best you could, wincing at the slight pain he was now causing you, whimpering out weakly, “No, not at all! I only wish for you to warm my bed!” 

“Then why are you asking me about him?” Hanta could not stop his voice from turning dark, not at all enjoying the fact that you would want to seek another god for any reason; were you truly ungrateful over all that he had done for you that you would find it inadequate?

Though you were not wanting to engage in his wrath, you could not help but become a little elated over the fact that there was a God of Sleep; and Hanta knew of him. But if you ever wished to find him, to be allowed to move freely to do so, you would have to calm, and flatter, the God before you.

“Because I need aid with my dreams,” you whimpered out, eyes turning glassy as they begin to fill with tears - another weakness you knew Hanta to have and for you to exploit. And you almost wanted to smile, to drop the act, at how quickly it worked.

You could see his eyes soften, his grip loosening, as he scanned your face; his other hand coming up to cup your other cheek as he began to fawn over you in concern. “Why? Have you been plagued with nightmarish vision? Have they hurt you?”

You shook your head, though it clearly was not enough to reassure him as his hands continued to stroke your cheeks in a calming manner. You knew you had him in the palm of your hand, as you allowed a few tears to fall from your eyes.

“Then why do you need to seek the Sleep God, my love?” He asked, voice still gentle as he looked down upon you, wanting nothing more than to cease those tears from falling.

“So I can remember my sister!” You blubbered out, and though the tears were falsified before they became honest and true as you reminded yourself of your sister; how the thoughts of forgetting began to cause those tears to fall more freely and stain your delicate face.

“Please, I left her behind for my love for you was stronger. I cannot help but miss her, and if I cannot go to the mortal realm to see her, then I wish to dream of her.” You choked out, as you grabbed hold of his hand, kissing his palm to try and sweeten him and his ego further. “Please Hanta, if you love me as you claim to do, you will allow me this small gift.”

Who was he to refuse you? His good, and obedient nymph. He couldn’t, not when you looked at him so sorrowfully. With a nod of his head, he pulled you into his arms, shushing you as he kisses the crown of your head. 

“Do not cry, my love. I’ll take you to him.” 

~

Though the heavenly realm proved to be a gift above all else, it was not shared equally amongst those that built it. Those whose gifts were heavily tied to the mortals, that dealt with the macabre that their lives would bring, were looked down upon by those whose talents were more serene. It was easier, and more harmonious, to live amongst those that gave love and song than those who had to deal with death and sorrow.

So they were banished to a realm seldom visited unless a favour was needed; a realm filled with darkness that lacked the treasures from above; the Underworld.

Hanta kept you close as you made your way down into the depths of the depressive world, carrying you within his arms and tucking your head into his chest to spare you from the horrors that await a long journey such as this. Needing to protect you, his precious flower, from a dangerous place such as this realm proved to be; a venture no nymph should find herself in, but he was willing to do this for you to cease the sorrow that had befallen you. At times, you yourself couldn’t help but whimper as you clung even tighter to his tunic as the wails of lost souls made your heart stutter with fear.

Soon his wings fluttered to a stop, gingerly setting your feet upon the damp ground, before a cavern-like area. The dark obsidian that lay jagged, almost broken, surrounded the open entrance of the cave and made you question if you should enter, for it seemed far from hospitable. Nonetheless, Hanta pushed you forward, forcing you to take the first step towards what you desired; knowing that he would not be wanted within the rooms of these lands

“Go on, my love” Hanta smiled gently, easing your fear and reassuring you of any falsities your mind could conjure up. “He will not harm you, and I will stay right here should you need me.” 

With a tentative nod, you resigned yourself to your fate as you turned towards the lair before you. With a deep breath, your trembling feet began their stride toward the God who may be able to help you.

The corridor itself was long, lined with those jagged dark rocks and jewels, as you kept yourself small and away from it all as you continued down the winding passage; unsure if it would even allow you to find your way out of its seemingly endless path. A dim light, one of calming blue, rid you of any sense of hopelessness as you approached a room. The room was darker than what you were used to, but that calming blue hue filled the entirety of the space and allowed you to take in the surroundings.

It was more beautiful than you were expecting. An inverse of the pastel and gold that covered the heavenly realm, as dark marble and a silvery mist surrounded you; intricate furnishings with many a carving of stories long past deep within them. Despite the warnings, despite the claims otherwise, this place was not of ruin and decay, but rather of equal splendor that you have become accustomed to from the heavenly realm above.

In the center of all the strange but wonderful opulence sat a giant glass orb propped so beautifully atop of a pillar, woven so intricately like vines, of tourmaline. You couldn’t help but approach it, the alluring purple aura seemed to call out to you, reaching your delicate hand before you, nothing else crossed your mind that your desire to touch the orb's smooth surface.

“You’re a bold little one, aren’t you?” Hitoshi spoke, chuckling deeply as he took in your startled form. 

You jolted your body towards where you heard the God speak, and looked upon his figure that sat on a simple, but elegant, throne of silver; mere feet past the orb. You felt heat rush to your cheeks, flushing them in embarrassment for being so engrossed by a crystalline ball that you failed to notice him. Sheepishly you lowered yourself to your knees - tucking your head close to your chest - as you bowed deeply to him to showcase your respect.

“I apologize for my rude intrusion,” you whimpered, knowing how fickle and quick to anger most Gods were, and hoping your little oversight of his presence would not cause his wrath.  

“Rise,” He tells you, clear from his infliction that he finds boredom in your display of decorum, sitting more upright within his throne to regard your form with interested eyes. “And state your business here. For it is not every day a mortal like yourself so brazenly enters my domain.”

You nervously shift your weight from foot to foot, keeping your gaze downcast as you do as you are told; unable to not find his intense gaze unnerving. “I-I was hoping to seek your skills, to help me with a sorrowful plight I find myself enduring for I-!.” 

His low chuckle made your shoulders tense even further, as the flush that painted your face grew darker. He raised a hand to cease your babbling from continuing; perhaps he found you childish if the condescending shake of his head as he leaned closer to you, was anything to go by.

“I already know what you are here for, little one. Merely wanted to see you squirm in nervousness for a moment longer.” He began to explain. “I already know who you are and your plight; the sad reality of the God of Sleep is that I know every mortal’s dream, and must endure the burdens that come with it.” 

You can tell his words rung true, for as you finally gazed up at his handsome face you could see the dark circles that stained the skin under his eyes, his own sunken deep within his skull, you could tell he suffered the same nightmarish visions, the unease and sorrow, and the sleeplessness you, and the many mortals like you, may find.

“You wish to see your sister, for you are forgetting her,” Hitoshi continued, hand rubbing his forehead as he sighed, watching the elation come forth upon your face as you frantically nodded your head, knowing that now he must aid you in some fashion or else you would not leave him to be alone once more. 

He stood from his throne, his height more imposing than you thought it to be, to stalk his way over to you and the crystalline ball you stand beside; shrinking away from him, you allowed him to pass you with little fuss. With a wave of his hand, the orb filled with a cloud of dark purple smoke. He beckoned you closer to him once it did, and you watched as the smoke slowly cleared away the closer you found yourself to the God and his crystalline glass; soon revealing your sister’s slumbering face.

“She dreams of you often,” He stated, standing aside to allow you the chance to look upon the image without distraction. 

“She does?” You could not help but become overwhelmed with both joy and sorrow as you gazed upon her; elated to know she was still alive and dreamt of you. You just merely wished you could do the same. Tears formed in your eyes as you reached out a cautious hand to gently touch upon the smooth glass, to caress the image of her cheek. “It warms my heart to know that, thank you.”

Hitoshi allowed you a moment to stare, gaze looking upon you in question; pondering what he should do. Knowing of your current plight, one of abandonment and loneliness, he could not help but relate. He found a semblance of sympathy and empathy for the creature before him; for he too found seldom joy within the realm of the Underworld, being placed here and forgotten by the Gods that claimed to be his brothers. He could not help but wish to end your suffering, as well as his. He tried his hardest to garner a plan out of this small act of kindness he would give forth to you in your time of need.

“You certainly act brave,” he called out to you, tone more gentle than before, “but I know you wish to dream of her yourself though pride is stopping you from asking me such a favour. For the Gods that surround you only grant one if you provide something in return.”

He pauses, allowing you a moment to take in his words; speaking once more as he could tell your attention was back on him rather than your sister, watching as your brows furrowed in question, knowing he must speak carefully in order for his plan to work

“I can assure you that I wish nothing in return,” he stated plainly, as he moved to sit on his throne once more. “The end of your sorrowful anguish, to cease the added pain and suffering it causes me, will be payment enough. I only ask for you to visit me here, should you wish to take upon my offer, for it shall be easier for me to provide you with the dreams you want from my throne.”

His response took you by surprise, as you gazed upon him in shock, overwhelmed by his apparent kindness that you could not do anything for a moment but stand there frozen in place - much like the few marble statues that decorated his home.

“Does that suit you?” Hitoshi asked, a brow raised in question as he watched you with amusement.

You nodded your head in a rapid fashion as you scurried your way back to him; unable to stop yourself from taking hold of his hands and squeezing them as you knelt in a bow before him once again; “God of Sleep, truly I wish there were more words I could say and express to you my gratitude and thanks to your kindness, but alas I cannot, but please know from the bottom of my heart that I am so overjoyed to hear you speak those words….” You continued profusely babbling to him your thanks and you kept his hand tightly within yours. 

“Hitoshi, you may call me Hitoshi.” He simply smiled, finding your devotion towards him at that moment welcomed for it rarely happened, relishing in it for a moment longer before removing your hands from his. “I await our next visit, but for now it is time for you to depart.”

You nodded your head in understanding before you bowed your head to him once more in respect, then gingerly walked down the few steps from his throne and towards the long, jagged corridor of obsidian without another word or complaint. 

“I will send my trusted friend Tamaki to fetch you,” Hitoshi called out to you, a smirk playing on his lips. “So there will be no need to bother and bring Hanta back with you.”

~

Hitoshi was true to his word, another surprising moment for you within a land of selfish and deceiving Gods, for when you woke the next morning - alone once more in your vast bed of silk - you caught sight of a man standing within a dark wooden gondola, seemingly waiting for you. Clearly, there was no one else he could possibly be there for, as this small portion of the heavens was made for you, a portion that seldom had visitors. 

Slowly you rose, eyes straining to properly see him, though you knew he was here for you the man situated himself so far away from your slumbering form that you couldn’t help but have a twinge of doubt.

‘Was he perhaps timid?’

A strange notion, and trait, for a God to possess but the closer you approached him, in your barely covered form, the more you began to realize it was true. Another handsome face, as all Gods possess, though his pale skin and dark hair were a striking contrast to the bright flush that stained his face and pointed ears; clearly he was bashful over looking at you in such a state - his eyes never looked upon for more than a brief second before darting away.

“A-are you, Tamaki...?” You asked him, timidness within your own voice as you softly called out to him, trepidation filling your being as you continued to approach him; after all, you had been fooled before by false displays.

“Y-yes I am!” You could see his eyes snap up to you as he stood taller as if bringing forth his name meant bringing forth his station and thus made him want to stand with pride. “I am the Ferryman of the Underworld, I was sent here to get you.”

You watched as he paused, giving you one more look-over before averting his eyes again, letting out a small cough of discomfort over your barely covered body; a reaction you were not used to getting, though perhaps he too was guarded for the fear of unleashing the wrath of a fellow brother was not something he wished upon himself.

“...Though perhaps I should allow you to dress before bringing you before Hitoshi,” he finished, clutching tighter the giant wooden oar he carried and was using for support

Your face flushed in a similar red to the God before you as you nodded your head, perhaps it would have been wiser to dress before approaching the strange presence that entered your little domain, but curiosity always did get the better of you. You nodded your head politely before scurrying off to find suitable garb to wear.

You admired Tamaki’s patience, and his courteous nature for it took you far longer to find a dress that would keep you warm as you stayed in the cooler domain of the Underworld; after all, when Sero brought you here, dressing you in fine clothing was the least of his worries. Every time you looked over at the Ferryman, his eyes were never focused on you, but rather daydreaming as he gazed upon the soft pastel colours of clouds above.

You approached him again once ready, and the kind smile he cast as he gently helped guide you into his gondola put your racing heart at ease; you could not say with certainty that you could trust him, but as he allowed you to sit and get comfortable before slowly descending his vessel down towards the domain he called home you couldn’t help but think that maybe you could.

He was a wonderful guide as well as you made your way back into the treacherous waters and dark world that was the netherworld. His tone, and demeanor, always reassured your every need; from when your shoulders would tense as the gondola grew a little too close to the sides of a cavern, or how your hands would grasp the side of the vessel tightly as the descent moved a little too quickly, or when the screams of the wailing souls became almost unbearable causing you to cover your eyes - he would gently reassure your fears every time.

“Do not fret, fair nymph,” Tamaki’s soft voice rang out above the screeching souls that lay below you, effectively stealing your attention away from their pity. “They will pass in due time, they merely wish to make those suffer alongside them; once they see you will not befallen to their tricks, they will leave you be.”

“They will..?” Your voice was barely above a whisper, unable to properly hear yourself as you continued to try and close your hearing off to the cries of the lost souls, scooting yourself towards the middle of the gondola to avoid their reaching hands.

Yet he still heard you, as if the deafening keenings meant nothing to him, as he nodded his head; using his long oar to steer his vessel down a long stretch of water, away from that of the river Styx. “And do not fear them, as long you are in my care they will not harm you nor snatch you from my boat.”

Slowly the gondola came to a stop, the motion as smooth as the silvery water below, in front of a familiar obsidian cave - the entrance still as daunting and inhospitable as you remembered it being the day before, even if now you knew you were wanted within those walls. He helped guide you, with a courteous hand, up from your seat and out of the dark wooden craft he had grown accustomed to; only pulling his hand from your grasp, and thus support, once your feet were firmly planted on the ground before you. 

“Thank you, Tamaki,” You said, eyes gleaming with genuine sincerity as you gazed upon him, your hand taking his once more to give it a small squeeze of gratitude. You almost giggled when you noticed his cheeks began to flush once more, as his bashfulness took hold and caused him to turn away from you yet again and focus his attention elsewhere.

“I shall be here to guide you back once you are done,” he muttered, his voice never before sounding so small since you met him, as he tugged his hand from your grasp. “Now go. Hitoshi can become impatient if you make him wait too long.”

With a nod of your head, you turned to face the mouth of the cave, dread setting in once more as you swallowed thickly the anxiety that began to bubble up within you; praying that you had not caused the God of Sleep ire for taking so long to get to him as you made your first steps back to his throne.

The blue light guided you as before, calming the gnawing apprehension that made a purchase into your heart for you felt as if you were a lamb being led to slaughter despite the generosity and kindness you were shown merely moments before. Tamaki had said that he would not have harm be brought before you, therefore he would not lead you to harm. You were not a lamb being led to slaughter, as you so felt at that moment, by merely approaching and being within Hitoshi’s lair.

Just as you did before, with timid and apprehensive steps, you stepped through the threshold of silver smoke and jagged obsidian into the room he resided and called home; eyes downcast, feeling smaller than ever before, you took gingered steps to where he sat upon his pearly throne, kneeling before him as a mortal should before a God. His imposing figure, one that loomed over you, caused you to lower your bow further until your head laid upon the cool marble your feet once stood upon.

“Not as bold today, are we?” Hitoshi chuckled, releasing you with an unhurried motion of his hand, his eyes staying with your figure as you moved to stand before him.

He watched as you simply shook your head in response, gaze still downcast as if too nervous to meet his eye; a frown formed upon his lips in disappointment over your timid display, wishing for you to be more excited, more jubilant like you were in your last meeting. Though perhaps it was because of your actions yesterday that you felt the need to be more apprehensive of your every move, not wanting to accidentally offend or upset him.

Hitoshi hummed, finding your continued lack of response telling of his assumptions. He stood from his throne and gracefully sauntered down the few imposing steps before it, regarding you and your smaller form for a brief moment before he ushered you to follow him, to which you did so dutifully; to come before the crystalline ball and its swirling clouds of violet haze. 

Once more, when the smoke began to tire of its own billowing dance and wished to retire away, images of your sister arose causing you to sigh out in quiet joy and behold her sweet and slumbering form. 

“You may stay for as long as you wish,” Hitoshi whispered out, finding that if he were to speak louder he may spook you from the charming trance he had put you under, as he placed his hand upon the small of your back to guide you closer to where you truly wished to be.

He almost chuckled at how you merely nodded in response to his generosity, too engrossed with your sister to think of anything else; even the gracious God providing you such a spectacle. Perhaps if he was in a worse mood, he may have been offended, perhaps even telling you to leave. And yet, he found it rather amusing, endearing even. He could tell why you were plucked from the mortal realm and kept amongst the gods as a pretty rose to gaze upon for eternity - you were certainly an interesting creature, at least as far as he could tell.

“Enjoy it for as long as you may like,” he spoke again, settling down once more onto his throne, chin within his palm as he gazed at you wondering if your response would change. He chuckled to himself when he saw the small rise and nod of your head; clearly too enraptured still to even think of a single word.

Time was frozen still for you, at least that was how you saw it, when you gandered down upon your sister; eyes filled with warmth as your fingers delicately outlined her face with thoughts that raced through your mind. You wondered what she dreamt of, what the days ahead of her looked like, and if she remembered you. A faint smile painted your lips as you thought of all the possibilities that could befall upon her.

Though time at that moment was still for you, it still marched onward.

For Hitoshi, he watched you for hours. His chin never left his palm, as his eyes just softly gazed at your form; curiosity further seeped into his being the longer you stayed. He was almost disappointed when he had to have this little visit come to an end, something he could not help but find odd as no words were spoken between the pair of you. Yet he could feel he missed your presence already.

“The sun is about to rise, little one,” he called out as he sat more upright upon his throne, “which means your sister will wake, and thus we will no longer be able to see her in my crystalline orb.” 

“Has it really been that long?” You softly answered, voice barely above a whisper as your hand dropped from the item in question back to hang limply at your side.

“Afraid it has.” 

“Then I thank you kindly for allowing me such a prolonged gift as this,” You said, casting forth to him a smile of gratitude; though despite your efforts not, you could tell sadness seeped through. You bowed once more, kneeling upon the ground you had spent hours standing upon. “It was more than I could have hoped for.”

“You are welcome to come back here if you so choose,” He watched as you stood once more, an amused smile gracing his handsome face. “For you have been nothing but a quiet and respectful guest.”

“I-I can…?” You questioned, hands coming forth to clasp together nervously; wondering if his amusement was genuine due to your company or if he had a trick he wished to play and had accidentally shown his hand.

“I have not had a more peaceful rest since the millennia started.” He began, gracefully taking a pause so he may walk over to you. “If having you here to admire your sister means I can have more moments of levity like this, then I would be a fool to cast it aside.”

Hitoshi took your hand in his, bringing it forth to place a tender kiss upon the back of it before turning it over to place a small golden bell within your palm, before letting it go. 

“Should you ever wish to return, ring this bell twice. It shall signal to Tamaki that you will be in need of his services, and thus will return you here.”

It was the jubilation on your face, he could only assume, that was what made him wish to provide you this sanctuary in the first place. Your smile beamed forth a ray of light as you gazed up at him, clasping tightly the small gift he had provided to you close to your heart.

“Thank you!” You gushed, feet almost stumbling over themselves as you didn’t know if you wanted to go forth to him and take his hand to showcase your gratitude, or if you wanted to leave to ensure further rest for this God before you (as well as showcase your prize to Tamaki, the man the bell was tied to).

In the end, you chose to scamper away, your gratitude and declarations of thanks echoing within the long and winding hallway. Hitoshi merely shook his head, breathing a sigh of mirth as he returned to his throne; his mind raced with thoughts of you. He wondered if he would get to see more moments of your bubbling personality showcased to him, more so than the small snippet he was blessed with at that moment. 

Ultimately all of his thoughts led to one conclusion, that he hoped you would ring the bell very soon.

~

Despite your desire otherwise, it took you a little more than a fortnight to call upon Tamaki once more; not at all for the reason that you were no longer interested in visiting the Underworld once again and indulging in the gifts brought before you, but rather you would feel horrible if you were to summon a God such as he to take you to and fro on whatever whim you had. Knowing he had far more important tasks to uphold, not simply to take care of you.

Yet, Tamaki greeted you with that same kind smile, one that grew wider when you apologized for being such an inconvenience as you clambered into his boat. 

“Nonsense.” He chuckled, using his oar to steer his vessel. “Your company is a highlight to my day, a far better kind than the souls that screech for my attention. So you need not worry about calling me forth.”

“Is that so?” You hummed, leaning forward towards him with a smile, placing your chin in your palm.

“Yes.” His face flushed that familiar shade of red, yet his eyes remained on you - clearly less shy than before as he grew more accustomed to your presence. “So, call upon me whenever you wish, for I know Hitoshi would prefer if you did as well.”

His eyes then looked away from you to instead focus on successfully steering you to where you were to be; back to Hitoshi. You took the time to survey the surroundings, as it was clear the ride was to remain in silence until the end, taking into account all the small jewels and gems that littered the dark walls of the nether realm. A small glimmer of beauty and hope in an otherwise bleak and dreadful world as you continued your descent. 

Though this time, after the boat had slowed to a stop, a visitor was there waiting for you. 

Hitoshi stood tall, making the daunting entrance of his lair seem small and almost meek. He approached the gondola with purposeful steps. His eyes glimmered with mirth as he nodded his head towards his old friend Tamaki before he bowed before you.

“As always, you have arrived safe and sound.” Hitoshi’s deep voice mumbled out, as he stood to his full height once more. “I am grateful to be able to have Tamki provide such a service.”

“As am I.” You managed to get out, voice meek, as you looked over at the ferryman in question. “He certainly puts me at ease and makes this descent more palatable.”

“Yes, well, I cannot argue with such a statement,” Hitoshi mumbled again before presenting his hand for you to take. “But a ride is not why you are here, now is it? Come along, little one, we cannot keep Tamaki from his duties any longer.”

You nodded your head, giving one last grateful smile towards the God who brought you here, before gingerly placing your hand upon his; finding Hitoshi’s gentle strength almost dizzying as he lifted you from the gondola with ease.

With practiced ease, surely muscle memory for him at this point, he guided you through the caverns towards his home; not at all bothered by the sharp stones that jutted from the walls or the rocky terrain as you were. You leaned into him often, finding his presence and body a needed support, as you tried to keep up with his quick pace.

You wished that the path toward his throne room would be more kind, less abrasive, and less aggressive toward those that wished to seek his help. But much like those gemstones hidden amongst the cavern walls of the Underworld, once you got through all the dread and unpleasantness, you were greeted with something wonderful. And the vast room he called his own always seemed to comfort you in some way whenever you entered it.

This time, when you passed through the haze of silver smoke that always permeated the air around his threshold, like a door to keep his privacy intact, you already found your sister’s slumber face illuminating the giant crystalline ball you had grown so fond of.

Hitoshi allowed you to break free from his hold of you to dart towards your sister, following after you at a much more leisurely pace. He could not blame you for your eagerness to see her, after all her slumbering form was a beauty to behold in and of itself, however he did wish he could hold you and your attention just a moment longer before it was diverted elsewhere.

Nevertheless, he had a plan today. One that he knew you would adore above all else, even more so than any gift the Love God had ever given you previously, or since you entered the realm of the Gods. Unhurried, he followed behind you, taking in the image of your admiring eyes for a moment longer before deciding to break the peaceful silence that had befallen.

“Do you wish to visit her?” He asked, placing his hand to the back of your neck to stroke the hair that laid there.

“More than anything…” You whispered, smiling fondly at the image before you, an action you had grown accustomed to doing. “However, such a wonder cannot happen, nor be granted to me while I am here.”

Hitoshi chuckled, an almost sinister grin forming upon his lips as he gazed down at you, lowering his head to whisper in your ear, “What if I told you that you could?”

He delighted in the way your body shivered at his action, the way your eyes finally were diverted from your sister and thus focused upon him; that he finally was the one to capture your whole attention.

“Can you?” You breathed out, having lost all the air within your lungs and body over his words; unable to breathe at not only the possibility of perhaps being able to hold your sister in your arms again, but the price it might cost for such a miracle.

“Dreams are an amusing thing, little one.” Hitoshi smiled, taking hold of your shoulders so you could face him fully. “A reality that is not fully our own, a realm in and of itself that is not beholden to the same rules as ours.”

He paused, and watched as your little brain tried to understand fully what he was saying. Finding it adorable when your brows furrowed together in concentration as you tried to put the pieces he was alluding to together. He brought his hand up to pat your head, stroking his palm down your hair soothingly as he continued.

“I can control that realm, a gift given to me by my mother.” He muttered those words, his smile growing wider as he saw your eyes light up in hope. “If you allow me your trust, to give forth your sleep to me, I shall be able to connect your dreams together and thus allow you a brief moment to be together again.”

It was almost comical to him how trusting you were, how you would so easily give up something so precious as the ability to command your own sleep to him. How you practically threw yourself into his arms, in both desperation and shock that such a gift could exist, as you quietly begged him for that chance.

“Please Hitoshi!” You said, hands clinging tightly to his tunic as you felt your eyes well with tears as your feelings overwhelmed you. “I beseech you, please, take me to her. I would ask nothing more of you, of your skills, gifts, or time, if you allowed me this. My anguish would cease being your burden if you allowed me to speak with her just this once.”

You turned your face away from him as you felt the warmth of your tears begin to stain your cheeks. Wanting to lessen your humiliation, you focused back on the image of your sister, and you asked him once more to take you to her, even if only for a brief moment.

Your naivety, your utter trust in him after all you had known and learned from the Gods, made Hitoshi’s smile grow even darker as mischievousness tainted it. You were so willing to eat from his palm, that you had no time to properly think if his intentions were pure. So blindsided by the love of your sister and desire to see her, you would do anything - even if it meant being at his mercy. 

He almost felt pity for you, such a sweet creature like yourself being taken advantage of by a more powerful being. 

Almost.

“Hush, little one,” he cooed, almost in condescension, as he pulled you against him once more to dry the tears that fell so freely from your eyes. “I would have not have offered such a gift if I had no intention of giving it to you.”

He continued to brush your tears away as he listened to you hiccup and sob, trying your best to form a response to him and his kindness but failing; shushing you once more as he pulled your head to rest against his chest, allowing you a moment of reprieve to calm yourself down.

“Now, now.” He began after silence had enveloped the pair of you for a breath. “Whenever you are ready, please lay yourself down in any place you deem comfortable within my home.”

He allowed you to pull away once more, watching as you sniffled and nodded your head, your hand wiping away the last of your tears as you looked about the abode. Deciding that his throne would be the most comfortable spot to choose if you were to lay down. However, you could not bring yourself to gain the courage to sit upon his throne. Instead, you chose to lean your body upright to sit comfortably against it, your head settled upon the arm of his chair to further ensure that you would slump over once sleep overtook you.

Hitoshi wanted patiently as you made your decision, finding your bold action to use his throne in some fashion entertaining, a refreshing outcome from your usual polite and timid nature. He approached you once it was made clear you were comfortable, kneeling down to your eye level as he brushed your hair away from your face.

“Close your eyes for me… there we are, that’s good,” he whispered out, eyes turning a pale silver, like the mist that surrounded his room, before he brought his hand up to your face. “Now, I must warn that you may feel nauseous once being thrust from one realm to the next, do your best to focus on where you are headed, for it will help, alright?”

You nodded your head in acknowledgment over his words, shifting one last time in a more comfortable position. “Alright.”

“Good, and do not fret, I will watch over you”

With that, his hand made contact with your brow as his power surged through your being. Your eyes rolled back into your skull, as you felt your consciousness being violently thrust from this plane, this realm of existence. You fought back the turning of your stomach, the urge to fetch up the bile that sat in your stomach, as you gripped tightly to your robes; to ground yourself into the reality you wished to be in most, a dream with your sister. Abruptly, your world and soul stopped moving, lurching you forward to fall into a soft and grassy field; a meadow that reminded you of when you used to run through and create flower crowns with your sister, a long time ago.

You turned, and turned, and turned, trying to find your bearings as well as anything of importance or familiarity within the giant landscape of flora you had been transported to. Your eyes tried their best to adjust to the bright light that had been thrust upon you from a sun that was nowhere in sight; but after all the disorientation that you had suffered, your mind eventually cleared. Gone was the haze that clouded it, and now you could finally spot, far in the distance, a sight that made your heart warm. Your old home.

You picked up your skirts with a watery smile, doing your best to hold back the tears of happiness that were about to fall, as you began to run towards it. Elated was how you felt for at last you made it back to the one place you felt joy within your long life. Back to the place where you felt love and adoration; back to her. 

When the rundown cabin, filled with trinkets and coin from travelers long past, became far more than a small speck on the horizon, your voice came to you. Shouting your sister’s name, screaming out your presence here, as you continued to sprint as quickly as you could to her.

You caught sight of her after a few calls of her name, her head poking out from the bedroom window you used to share. Your pace quickened, far past your own abilities but you found little use to care of the pain when the person you loved most was in view, as you called out even louder; an arm waving to allow her to notice you promptly. You became jubilant as the realization of who you were came across her face. You almost tripped over your own feet as laughter began to pour out of you, as you took in the actions of her throwing open the cabin door with abandon, her not bothering to care of any damage she caused, before she ran to meet you.

The embrace you shared with one another was so forceful and tight that it caused you both to fall to the ground, pain and soreness subsided by the sounds of each other's laughter over finally being together once more; to hold one another and feel whole again. Sobs soon mixed in with the laughter, tears of joy understandably shed, as you both clung onto each other tightly. You were the first to pull away, certain that she would not disappear once doing so, wanting to see her face fully for the first time after all these years.

“There you are,” you breathed out, pressing your forehead against her with a relieved sigh “Oh, how I missed you terribly! My thoughts while we were apart were only of you.”

“As were mine!” She huffed out a laugh, bringing forth her hand to dry the flowing tears from her eyes. “I have been dreaming the same dream for years, hoping that one day you would return back to me.”

“I’m sorry it took so long!” You sobbed, leaning into her to wrap your arms tightly around her, burying your face within her shoulder as you babbled out another apology; finding comfort as she gingerly played with your hair as she used to do whenever you were upset.

“There is no need to apologize, my dear sister.” She uttered, resting her head atop yours. “All that matters right now is that we are finally together. After so long, after so much time apart, we are together again.”

She felt more so than saw your head nod in agreement, taking yet another moment to bask in the warmth that was your glow (as you did the same) before she patted at your back, an action that caused you to pull away slightly. With a warm smile, she caressed your cheek, humming in delight when she felt the heated skin upon her fingertips as her eyes searched yours.

“Come with me,” she finally spoke, standing with an outstretched hand for you to take. “Let me bring you home.”

With an ecstatic nod of your head, you agreed. Tears formed in your eyes at the mere thought of entering the home you once shared with her again as you took hold of her hand, allowing her to pull you to your feet. Together you walked alongside each other, pulling on each other’s arms, as nostalgia washed through you both - like a warm blanket on a winter’s eve - as you remembered a time when this was the existence you lead.

Meanwhile, as you slept, Hitoshi dutifully watched over you; finding your slumbering face rather beautiful as you allowed him to keep guard. He wondered if you were also so trusting, so naive about the world and the nature of Gods. Surely you must be if a few simple words of affirmation by another would allow you to be swallowed up by him; to follow willingly into a world not your own. Even more so, trust a God like him, after staying in this unforgiving place for so long.

Regardless, he stroked your cheek with a fond smile, knowing that this would not be the last time he would see you, to relish in your serene beauty, and enjoy your company; already his mind had raced with the many ways he wished to spend it.

~

The Gods within the Underworld barely get any company, as the Gods in the realm above them would rather steer clear of their domain; a sense of haughtiness as they turn their noses up at the prospect of spending their precious time with Gods they deem lower than them.

Therefore it cannot be helped that Hitoshi grew rather fond of you so quickly; a meek and sweet little nymph like yourself was more than a welcomed guest in his domain. Truly he would do anything in his power to have you keep visiting him and wanting his company. And, being the naive little thing you were, you so easily gave him the control he needed to ensure you would come crawling back to him; the power to manipulate your dreams and sleep. 

He wasn’t going to be cruel, after all, he wanted you to trust him and to do so of your own free will. At first, he only took an hour or two of sleep away, a simple ploy set in action for whenever you arrived back to him, he was able to easily coerce you to stay even longer; to catch up on the rest you had missed. Of course, you did not mind in the slightest, for that merely meant allowing you the chance to spend more time with your sister in the small way you could.

Once you woke, you always repaid him in kind, indulging him further with your awakened company; answering his questions, both of simplicity (like the times you recalled what your favoured the most) and those of a more personal nature (like the many stories of your previous life within the mortal realm). As well, you allowed him to showcase to you more of his domain and home, taking his arm with little fuss as he regaled the histories of the items that surrounded you, explaining to you how everything worked within the Underworld; from the souls, Tamaki would bring through, to the decisions Shigraki would make to keep things in order, to his own duty of keeping mortals well rested so they may continue their devotion to the many Gods they adored.

At the end, before he set you free to leave with Tamaki, he would always find the small pleasure of kissing the back of your hand; heart thrilling as you would cast before him your sweet smile before bidding adieu. He longed for you to gaze at him so lovingly, to hold and keep that precious smile with him forever.

Though, after a while, your stays with him became less frequent. Hitoshi used to be blessed by your company almost every other day. Before he knew of it, those frequent days together dwindled down to merely a couple of visits every few weeks. Now? Now Hitoshi would be lucky if he got to enjoy your presence once a month. And the worst of it was, whenever you finally did show your pretty face, there never was an explanation as to why you were gone from him for so long. With a wave of your hand, you would brush it aside, as if starving him of your companionship was nothing to be of worry, as you approached his throne. 

Truly, when all was said and done, this was all your own doing. 

Hitoshi simply could not have you vanish like the silver mist that enveloped his throne, he doubted he could survive if you did. So, he just had to make things a little bit worse for you; to slowly deprive you of more and more sleep. And the times he would gift you with slumber, they would be filled with dreams unpleasant and cruel.

He just had to have you crawl back to him, to stay with him. He simply had to.

~

It wasn’t as if you did not want to visit Hitoshi, you wished with every fiber of your being that you could; you really did. You enjoyed the time spent with him, both he and Tamaki were very kind and always sought to make you comfortable - never to leave you bored or feeling unwanted. Unfortunately, someone else decided for you that visiting was no longer to be.

Hanta had a renewed interest in you just as you were starting to get comfortable within the God of Sleep’s domain; monopolizing your time more and more, almost unbearably so, with his presence and touch. As if he was making up for lost time, doing his best to renew the interest he once captured so easily. Though he claimed otherwise, you knew that his actions were simply made from jealousy; he wanted you to be his pet, whom he called upon at any moment, to give your utter devotion to. Now your devotion seemed to be turned elsewhere, and his pride simply could not have it. 

He couldn’t keep hold of you at all times; duties had to be done, and other men and women needed to be blessed by his presence and touch. Only then were you able to slip away from his hold to visit the Underworld. Though every time you entered, you felt more and more ashamed of who you were, about the marks that were left upon your skin, and the reasons you could not see Hitoshi more frequently. Embarrassment always filled your being when you felt the Sleep God’s eyes upon you, taking in your dishevelled and messy form, knowing you were a sore sight to see; and you could never find the strength to confide in him as to the reasons why.

You simply wished to forget all that transpired while away, even if for a moment.

That moment of levity would simply be that; a moment. For once you returned to the clouds above, Hanta would be waiting for you; wings twitching in agitation as the scowl upon his beautiful face would cause you to shrink in fear. Anger, agitation, would fill his being at your deliberate disobeying of his rule to stay where you were until he was to return; dragging you to the bed you shared. Though you tried to plead with him that it wasn’t nearly anything his mind could conjure up, that he need not be so harsh with you, it never sunk into him - merely falling onto deaf ears. Despite protesting thus, he would bend you at the waist, pinning you to the silk sheets so you could not move, or fight him, before he would fill you with his cock; ignoring your squeals of pain as he stretched you completely. To slap his hand upon your skin until your skin was red and raw as he teethed marked you with the last mementos of his lovemaking. Actions never ceased until your voice became hoarse from the pleasured screams, and your body became limp with his marks of strength; making it clear to any gods nearby that you were his.

After which, the vicious cycle would continue.

Moreover, to add insult to the injury you were currently plagued with, you could not find a sense of slumber; a moment of rest and the peace that paired with it. Oh, how you wished you did, you wished for a moment of sanctuary from the torture you were in, and yet it never came. Always just slipping past your fingertips, like mist in a dense fog. Hanta and his insatiability, much like when he first claimed you for his own, took from your body and sense of strength and repose needed to even sit up. It left you ragged and begging to melt into the clouds that surrounded you; chanting silently to the God realms away to grant you what you desired most. A reprieve from this world, no matter how small it was to be. But once you felt it ebb at the corners of your consciousness, Hanta would ultimately rouse you to continue his ravishings.

The fair few times you could allow yourself to sink into the inky abyss of slumber, your being finally being so worn down it had no choice but to relent to it, the dreams within it would be far more cruel than the fate currently abusing you. Dreams so conniving and hurtful, of fears locked so far away, that you not help but wake with tears in your eyes; whimpering and wailing sobs into the vastness of the heavens around you. With your cries growing more intense when you found your only comfort against all this pain and suffering was Hanta and his touch; one that would ultimately lead to salacious things.

You began to resent him. His voice, his touch, his presence even remotely near you. You wished he had never caught sight of you, never gave you all those gifts, and most important of all, never brought you here to the heavens. As the days passed you felt stuck in an endless cycle of hell, one seemingly by his own hand. You were once so exuberant, full of life and wonder, and now you could feel yourself wasting away into nothing. No longer able to skip and frolic into fields of flowers or clouds, your body was too weak; barely even able to lift your arm to grab hold of anything. Your eyes, ones that were bright and filled with wonder as they looked upon the many majesties of the world, could barely be forced to open; a stinging pain would follow as any glimmer of light would cause you pain. And your head. Your poor head that would read and listen to the stories of old, now suffered from severe throbbing pain as your mind pulsed against your skull - trying to free itself from the prison it found itself in.

You could not escape it, nor Hanta - especially after he had taken the golden bell gifted to you as his own. Your life seemed to be regaled to misery as you lived every waking moment in pain. You wished that death could find you and turn you into an everlasting rose, then be subjected to spend more time with him; the cause of all the suffering.

Hanta could sense it all too. The indignation that filled your very being and thus cast forth onto him. He became less patient with you, his temper flaring considerably as he found your irritability insufferable; finding your whining and aversion to his help a scornful cross he felt he had not deserved, not after all he had done for you. The rage within him would burn even brighter whenever you would implore him to allow you to see the God of Sleep, to ask for his aid in the matter that had been plaguing you instead of him. Bitterness filled him over being replaced by a God lesser than him; for being a fool to allow you the freedom to visit that domain and become dependent on someone other than him.

“Hanta, please!” You wept, palms coming to press against your eyes to relieve some of the unbearable pressure behind them. “I cannot keep going like this. Can’t you see that I am in pain? That I am suffering?”

You removed your hands from your eyes, your feeble attempt to try and soothe the pain found in your body futile, having them fall into your lap in defeat. You looked over at him, back turned to you, as he tried to ignore your wails once more in favour of sharpening the many golden arrows he possessed. 

“I thought you loved me!” You called out again, trying in vain once more to garner his attention, the declaration working as you saw his shoulders tense.

“I do love you.” Hanta began, turning to give a look of scorn when you tried to argue otherwise “But it is clear that your reliance on another God caused you this misery. If you stayed here, and allowed me to take care of you, you would not have found yourself in such a state.”

“Take care of me?” You huffed out a laugh in scorn, hands balling into fists over his claims “You left me here. Abandoned me once I no longer suited your fancy, with no food, drink, or company. Alone is a place where I did not belong! How could you blame me for wanting to be cared for!”

“You could have asked for more!” Hanta stood, his wings twitched as he did his best to control the fury bubbling within him “Have I not given you everything? Have I not provided you splendor that no other creature, mortal or otherwise, could have dreamed? Have I not carved out of the heavens a home for you? You are acting like a petulant child, one that has been so spoiled that they cannot find it within themselves to have an ounce of gratefulness or gratitude.”

You could not help yourself, could not fight the urge otherwise. How could he claim all those things about you, to compare you to a mollycoddled child, when he was the one that would abandon anything once he got bored. To pin the pain you are under as something of your own fault, and not bother to care about trying to lessen the burden.

“I hate you.”

The words slithered out in a vengeful hiss, marking them as true and honest as you looked away from him in scorn; finding yourself so disgusted by him that you wished not to acknowledge his presence. You had never said those words before, never been pushed to think that way of anyone, even the nymphs that casted you out. Yet, you felt the need to let that be known and you sat and seethed.

You did regret those words after you spoke them, finding a moment of levity as your mind cleared from the anger and pain it had been placed under. Though it was too late. A final straw had been broken, after weeks of being placed under the pressure of a bend, within Hanta.

He marched towards you, to where you sat so pitifully, to take hold of your arm; not bothering to care over the cry of pain he inflicted as he dragged you to your feet to follow him to the edge of the heavenly clouds that you called home. Bringing forth the golden bell from his tunic to hold it menacingly over the border that kept the Gods in the heavens, and the mortals within the earth.

“Apologize at once.” He demanded, tugging you even closer to him to cease your struggling against his hold “Say that you are sorry or I will drop it.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I had not meant to say! Please Hanta, believe me! I could never hate you! Don’t do this!” You begged, falling to your knees as you clung to his waist

But despite obeying, despite always doing what he said like the sweet-natured nymph you were, it did not matter. In a moment of vexation, a moment to showcase his power over you, Hanta still did not relent (as he always did to your cries) as his fingers let slip the golden bell. Allowing it to sink away for all eternity.

You collapsed in a heap, fingers digging deeply into the cloud below you, as you wept and sobbed; despite the pounding in your head telling you to stop, you couldn’t. Your one saving grace, the one thing that brought a semblance of happiness to you in this realm was gone. And with that revelation came the doubt that you would ever see your sister again nor get a decent night’s rest until the end of time - or until your ultimate banishment from here, whenever that mercy may come.

You couldn’t help but kick and scream when you felt Hanta’s arm wrap around you as he picked you up from the ground. Using the last morsels of strength within you to try and fight him off and away, for his touch was the last thing you ever wanted upon your skin.

But what was the strength of a nymph when compared to a God? 

He laid you in bed, and though he tried to join you, to hold you close and whisper those sweet nothings in your ear as he knew you used to love, you kept pushing him away. Instead choosing to curl up into a tight ball and weep until sleep ultimately took your anguished form. All Hanta could do was watch as guilt gnawed at him - latching onto his soul like roots of a tree that took purchase into the earth - as he reaped what he had sown. 

~

The anguish you felt is what finally caught Hitoshi’s attention towards you and your ever-growing plight, for it had seeped through into your dreams when your body finally tired out from all it had been fighting. He could sense your pain, your sorrow, the distress that filled every ounce of your soul; it caused his breathing to labor as he could not help but panic over what had transpired. He rushed to look into his orb of dreams to search for you and to understand what had transpired for your soul to give up and to become on the verge of death; something impossible for a creature like you to do within the heavens.

You were always surprising him, weren’t you?

He wanted to find a semblance of admiration over you achieving such a feat, but all he could find was fear over the thought of losing you. Your blurry appropriation finally came forth to him within the haze of smoke so familiar to him, blurred lines turned clear as he turned more of his attention towards you; and subsequently, the memory you had gripped so tightly to. That of your precious gift, your golden bell, being taken away from you.

Histoshi wasted not another moment. Summoning forth Tamaki with urgency, as he began to move through his labyrinth hurriedly; meeting the other god at the riverbed to his home. Tamaki could tell from the distressed look within the other God's eyes, that something was amiss.

“Go gather the nymph.” Hitoshi instructed, voice hardened with ice as he tried to keep his composure “And bring her back here to me, as swiftly as you can”

“Has something happened?” The meeker God questioned, worry gathering within his heart as his eyes scanned Hitoshi’s features.

“Go and get her.” Hitoshi reiterated voice hissing at the accidental stalling his friend was causing. “And do so swiftly! Though, be wary of that Love God, for he is watching over her.” 

Without another word, or hesitancy otherwise, Tamaki nodded his head before hastily setting his vessel in motion. There was something wrong, for his oldest friend would not have treated him so coldly, would not be so fearful of a wasted moment. Something had happened to you, and Tamaki feared it was something awful.

Bravery was never something that came naturally to the ferryman, he was far too meek and worried of causing ire from his fellow brothers and sisters; especially those few that lived among him. He felt it course through him as he ascended to the heavens to retrieve you, determination settling within his heart as he made up his mind to bring you to the Underworld for good.

Tamaki was quiet when he approached your little piece of heaven; heading the advice to be wary to ensure a safe recovery of you. Though when he appeared, he found you surprisingly alone. You lay curled up like a baby bird in its nest upon your bed, but he knew it wouldn’t be for long. For the Love God was clearly only absent to gather your items of comfort, and with his powerful wings to swiftly guide him through the air, Tamaki knew it was only a matter of moments before he would return; there was no time to dawdle. 

Gently he scooped you into his arms, taking note to cradle your weak head gently against his chest, as he carried you to his gondola. Setting you upon the bench you so eagerly used to sit upon, he allowed you to rest as he took you back down to the Underworld; to your new home.

~

You awoke, mind filled with a disorienting haze as you tried to recall how you ended up blessed enough to find slumber. To garner a restful enough sleep and avoid the terrors your mind could come up whenever you were in that realm. However, that wonderment of how you could have become so blessed after so agonizingly long was drowned out by confusion as your brows furrowed as it tried to comprehend what this odd weight upon your body was.

It was familiar to you, like an old friend, one soothing and reassuring. Yet at the same time, it did not feel like something you knew. The hand that stroked your hair, and scratched gently upon your scalp in a manner so gentle, was not one that you knew. The arm that held you so tightly to a broad, lithe, chest did not feel at all similar to the one you cuddled up against night after night.

It wasn’t familiar to you, thus you could only assume that you were no longer in the arms of Hanta, but rather someone else. Now that you were in this hold, you were afraid you could never go back to what you were used to. How you preferred the more tender hold of the arms that embraced you, how they held you with your comfort in mind, not to keep you trapped; a hold that you could not help sink deeper within. Finding the soft tunic a welcomed reprieve to warm and bare skin as you clung to it.

Though despite your wanting to sink back into the inky abyss that was the realm of slumber, your mind did not allow it; far too concerned with whoever was holding you. Though it felt nice, something about it still did feel right. Your brows furrowed more so together as you began to push against the embrace, your tired eyes burning as they opened to gain clarity of your situation.

A frightful gasp left your lips as you looked upon a familiar pair of violet eyes, those accompanied by the almost charming dark circles of deprivation. Despite your best efforts to pull away from him, knowing just how irate Hanta would be if he were to catch you with him in such a manner, Hitoshi kept you in place; his arm tightly digging into your sides to keep you against him.

“Hush, and be still little one,” Histoshi shushed you, hand moving from your hair to stroke upon your cheek in a manner meant to calm you further. “Your body is still destitute of slumber, it cannot handle your struggles.”

You relented, body falling more limp within his hold, though you fought the urge to fall back into his chest; wanting answers to the racing questions that ran through your mind as they managed to take precedence over your want of sleep.

“How…. how did I get here?” You finally asked, voice cracking and sore from your wails just hours prior, as you kept your gaze downcast. “From what I can recall, I needed the bell you gifted me to summon Tamaki; one of the few that knew how to get to you”

“As you know,” he began with a sigh, tugging at the ends of your hair in an effort to get your pretty eyes to gaze back at him; disappointed that you wouldn’t relent and do so, “I can feel all the anguish that the mortals are beholden to as they sleep, you are no exception. I felt all your pain and suffering, and I could sense that you were unable to escape the grasp of the Love God. So, I figured the only course of action to end your distress that I could provide was to gather you myself so you may get the rest you sorely needed.”

He watched as you buried the palms of your hands into your eyes gently, trying in vain to allow your muddled mind to come to terms and piece together what he had just said. After a moment of silence, he pulled your hands back down to rest in your lap.

“Are you alright now?” He asked, voice barely above a whisper, as he watched you nod your head. Dissatisfied over your lack of response he placed his forefinger under your chin to force your head up to face him. “Are you sure?”

“Y-yes.” 

Your meek response was good enough to appease him as he let go of your face to instead pull you closer within his hold; his hand once more moving your head to place it against the crevice between his neck and shoulder. Hand once more absently played with your hair as he continued to soothe and strived to relax your body.

“Sleep, little one,” he mumbled into your brow, “Stay as you need so you may regain all that you lost. I promise to look over you.”

Instead of gratitude, instead of your body falling heed to his request, he felt your body shake as you silently sobbed. You wished you could allow yourself such a sweet reprieve, but you knew better now. Once you garnered enough strength to walk, you would have to be taken back to the heavens once all this was over. If not by the God before you, then by the God you have surely angered and left in a cold bed. You felt Hitoshi move your body to sit upright, his hands resting upon your heated cheeks as he attempted to dry them from your ever-falling tears. 

“Why are you upset, my darling one?” He asked, searching your eyes for a response, only to find you closing them and looking away.

“If I do stay, if I do as you ask of me and regain my strength and rest, it will not matter.” You blubbered, shaking your head to rid yourself of his grasp on your face.

“And why do you say that?”

“After I do, I will have to return back to Hanta. And I do not want to suffer the false hope that will befall me if I stay, for once I go back I will suffer as I had before. Sleepless and filled with horrid visions!”

Hitoshi did his best to hide the smile that was yearning to break free. He found he was grateful this one time that your glossy eyes would not look at him. Here you were, like a child, in his lap as you wept over the fear of another bad dream that may fall upon you again. It was clear your state of mind had been broken, that your resolve had been shattered, and now you were at the mercy of him and his plan; thus now he could finally strike. 

“Who has declared that you must go back?” He whispered as he kissed the crown of your head to soothe you further. “You could just stay here with me, you will never have to worry about sleep and nightmares again. And your sister, I’m sure she missed you.”

With the mention of your sister, you finally looked up at him, your sobbing quieted down as you hiccuped your response. “Y-you w-would let me stay...?”

“I would.” He nodded his affirmation alongside his words, ensuring you would believe him. “And you may visit your sister as often as your heart desires, to wander the Underworld and beholden to their treasures whenever you please. You would just have to keep me company whenever I request it.”

“And Hanta? W-what of him?”

“You would never have to worry about being taken away from him if you did not want. Wherever silver mist gathers, especially within the archways of this domain, he cannot enter nor breakthrough. He may charge his way here, but he will never be allowed to enter my throne.”

You took a moment to gaze upon the familiar archway you had walked through countless times, watching as the silver smoke twirled languishingly amongst itself as if it had a mind of its own. It brought back the memory of when you first came here, how Hanta pushed you to make the journey to the God of Sleep alone. It was not done to test your bravery, but rather for the reason Hitoshi claimed; he was not welcomed here and therefore could not follow you.

It all made sense why Hanata hated that you would visit Hitoshi, for he could not keep an eye on you. He could not control you and whatever you did while here.

Now you were presented with an offer. A tempting one that promised you everything you had been deprived of while you were up in the heavens; to be taken care of fully. To be able to enjoy the spoils found here, to sleep, and to see your sister. Your exhausted mind could not help but agree that his terms and conditions to be his companion within the Underworld was a far better offer than what you were granted within the Heavens.

“I’ll stay…” You murmured out, as you allowed your body to fall limp into his arms in acceptance. “...I’ll stay.”

“Good, now rest little one, you are safe now.”

Hitoshi was unable to cease holding back the triumphant smile that wished to come forth, relenting to it as it spread across his beautiful face in an almost sinister manner before he pressed a kiss to your forehead. He had won, and now he was hoping to reap the rewards he waited so patiently for; grinning more widely as he heard a whine slip passed your lips, the sound going straight to his cock as he shifted you within his lap.

“What is the matter now?” He muttered into your brow, pressing another kiss there as he watched you squirm.

“I can’t sleep...!” You murmured out, clearly exasperated over your mind telling you of desires that you wanted while your body continued to betray you.

“Never fear of things such as that my darling.” His kiss slowly descended down your face before they paused at your lips; brushing against them in a manner much like a butterfly’s kiss. “I can help you, you need only ask me to do so.”

“Please help me Hitoshi…” You breathed out as you clung to his tunic once more.

He knew you were ready to plead further to him, he could hear the hitch in your voice as you made an attempt to do so. But he could not wait any longer, not after all the work he placed into his efforts, nor after hearing you consent to him; even if he desired to hear you beg for him further. His lips pressed against you in a kiss he has waited far too long to enjoy.

But greed swiftly appeared and possessed him, taking his kisses from sweet and small - tiny pecks to showcase his love and adoration for you - to ones more consuming as he melded your lips into his; not caring about breathing more so the want to feel your lips against his. His hand came to hold your jaw in place, craning your neck upward so that he may deepen the kiss to his desire.

It was not harsh, nor hurried, as one would expect from being consumed by the throws of passion and lust; especially the kind that had been suppressed for so long. Hitoshi could not recall in most recent memory, or memory long passed, ever having a lover by his side. And now that he had you, now that he finally had you here, he wished to engulf you completely and enjoy what the Gods above have denied him.

His motions were languid as he continued to hold your lips against his, he relished in how pillowy they felt as he continued to suck and smack upon them; not bothering to care of your whimpers of discomfort over how lewd the sounds had become, or how the mixture of saliva would drip down your chin. He still refused to relent as he found himself possessed over you and this feeling of domination. He slipped forth his tongue into your pliant and sweet mouth; how he delighted in the way your strength left you and caused you to go limp within his hold. 

With the knowledge that you would not fight against him further, rather allowing yourself to succumb to him and his desires instead, his hands began to roam your body; no longer afraid of angering you and your possible attempts to fight otherwise.

You couldn't say that you did not enjoy it. 

The unhurried, leisurely manner in which Hitoshi was making love to you was a far cry from the throws of quickened and almost brutal passion that you had grown used to. Such a contrast made your head dizzy and lightheaded as you allowed the God before you to do as he pleased; yet uncertainty filled the distant corners of your mind, how the ebbed and flowed almost as a warning bell, as you wondered if your body was going pliant to his advances due to your own building want or if he somehow placed you in a dream-like trance.

Regardless, you still found yourself in bliss as your hands began to roam themselves; how they gripped and tugged at his tunic as you allowed your voice to be heard. The small noise of pleasure did nothing more than spur Hitoshi on as his lips began to drag from your own and down to your jaw. You felt a shiver run down your spine as you heard his groan of delight when your hands found purchase underneath his tunic. The contrast of your warm hands against his cool and bare chest was a wondrous thing, one that made the both of you flush deeper in heat.

Though, after a while, it was not enough. Your mind still pounded against your skull, a brutal reminder that you needed slumber, and despite Hitoshi’s claims that he could bring that forth to you, he had so far made ill on that promise.

“Hitoshi…” You whimpered out, voice strained as you found it difficult to even speak in your current state.

“Yes, my darling?” Hitoshi mumbled into the skin just below your jaw as he placed a kiss there to try and encourage you to speak more.

It did not work, all he was met with was your continuous stream of discomforted whimpers; the way your brows pinched and furrowed in displeasure was a clear sign to him that he must move faster if he wished to come true with his promise and grant you the sleep you requested.

He tugged at your dress, being mindful of how precious the silk must be for you and thus not wanting to ruin it. Using a tender hand to glide the fabric of your sleeves down your arms to your wrists to allow the material of your bodice to slip under your ribs; effectively it released your breasts and allowed him to gaze in hunger at your chest; his cock stirring as he watched your nipples harden when greeted with the cold air of his home.

He wasted no time, like a man possessed, to trail his lips over your newly exposed, supple flesh. The softness he found caused his cock to twitch harshly as he took the time to kiss up and down the valley between your breasts, as he inhaled the scent of your skin; committing it to memory should he never have the chance to have you like this once more. His dexterous hands began to roll and squeeze at your mounds, biting his lip as he watched the flesh shake in a tantalizing manner before he slipped one of your hardened nipples into his awaiting mouth; his tongue circling around it as he sucked gently upon it. 

Hitoshi wanted nothing more than to garner more noises of pleasure from you as he absently rocked his hips against yours, and groaned into your skin. His other hand undertook the task to play with your skirts, to work in a quickened manner while you were too preoccupied from his mouth to question him as he dragged them up and over your hips so he may have access to your most sacred place; your sweet cunt. 

His teeth, though blunt, left a stinging pain in their wake as he marred and nipped at your supple flesh. It caused your eyes to shoot open as you looked down upon him, his lavender eyes were filled with a lustful haze as they connected with yours; it made your body shudder in his hold as you whined at his cruel action. You could feel him smile upon your skin as he laved over your newly found mark with his tongue.

“Stay awake for just a little longer, my darling,” he cooed, nipping at your skin once more to hear you call out his name in that adorable whine he was starting to love. “That’s it, look at me, keep your eyes open and on me, alright?”

“I-it hurts…!” You jerked your body away from his pinching teeth, your mewl of displeasure following suit.

“Keep looking at me, and do not fall into the grips of dozing.” Hitoshi muttered, pressing a few kisses over the red marks he had given you. “And I promise you that it shall not hurt anymore.”

His deft fingers found your cunt,  spreading your folds open so he may be able to gently pet and coax out further pleasure from your body; to showcase to you that he meant as he said. His middle finger explored, dipping briefly into your leaking entrance, before slowly stroking your little bundle of nerves; groaning at how violently your hips bucked over his slow and deliberate act, how they seemed to follow his hand, greedy for more of his sinful touch. 

Despite his desires otherwise, how he wished to rub harshly upon your puffy clit to hear you wail and cry out for him as you became overwhelmed with ecstasy, he knew you were not restive enough for such a thing. As well, he wanted nothing more than to see your pretty eyes, half-lidded with lust for him, to stay focused upon him. 

He continued his tortuous petting, whispering his fingertips upon your clit but never pressed down before they swiftly moved to poke at your fluttering hole; all the while he smirked into your chest as heard your panting breath. A guttural groan left his parted lips as he finally relented and sunk a finger into you; relishing in your keen of pleasure as your hand came to tug upon his wild mane of violet locks.

You pulled him closer once he breached your weeping cunt, mewling quietly in delight at his skillful and gently petting; though you found that it wasn’t enough. The burning ache of need deep within your core was calling out for release, it heightened the pining to find slumber, as your hips moved against his hand in urgency for him to grant you something more. Your fingernails dug into the skin of his chest and dragged them down toward his hips; it left an angry trail of red in their wake, as your other hand tugged harshly on his mane once more. Calling out his name in a prolonged whine of frustration, not caring over this hiss of pain that sucked through his teeth.

“Getting impatient, are we?” Hitoshi growled, nipping at your neck to feel your yelp beneath his tongue.

“Y-you promised!” You wailed, hands moved to grip his shoulders as you felt his fingers spread within you.

“To not hurt you, indeed I did.” Hitoshi teased, leaning his head back to enjoy the blissful looks upon your face. “Do you not feel good, darling?”

“N-no!” You shook your head before you cried out his name, unable to finish your thought before being lost to the pleasure he brought forth.

“No?” He teased, slowing his fingers until they barely moved within you, chuckling at your bucking hips as you attempted to gain back the stimulation you craved. “Well, my darling, your body is telling me something different.”

If you were more awake, you would feel the heat of embarrassment taking over the flush of desire upon your skin, though at the moment you could not seem to care about decency; your desire to follow through and ultimately find and form of reprieve to your aching body.

“No, you promised to guide me to sleep.” You stuttered out, finally being able to find your voice now that his actions upon your body subsided. “And you’re prolonging that now.”

Hitoshi hummed, stifling another laugh over your petulant state, as his lips kissed upwards your neck and jaw before meeting their intended destination; kissing you languidly like before to placate your rigid state.

“Apologies,” he murmured, breath mingled with yours as he allowed you a chance to catch it. “I was merely just preparing you appropriately so you take my cock with ease. Though you are right; you have waited long enough.”

You squirmed at his words, finding a sense of awkwardness in how crude yet honest, not something you were yet used to from him, as you gripped tightly to the fabric at his shoulders when you felt his fingers leave your cunt; kissing your teeth in a quiet hiss as you feel yourself tighten around nothing.

“Go on now,” Hitoshi whispered, leaning so his back may sit flush against his silver throne, a smirk tugging at his lips. “If you so wish for relief so badly then you may take my cock out to have it.”

He admired the way you so timidly nodded your head at his request before your hands, one filled with trepidation, shook as they lowered to where they needed to be. He felt how gingerly you worked as you adjusted and shifted his robes to unbound his hardened member; he groaned in relief once he felt you delicately free his leaking cock.

If you were not so in need of him at the moment, he would ask you to stroke him; to pump your hand up and down his length until he guided you toward his own euphoria. He supposed he now had more than enough time for such salaciousness at a later date. Instead, he grabbed your waist as he pulled you to sit higher, hovering you over him as he properly aligned himself against your heated core.

Slowly, agonizingly so, he guided your hips downward to impale yourself on him; pressing his lips to yours to shush the aching whimpers that tumbled forth as you felt yourself being stretched to your limit by him; and though you had experience with Hanta, his cock was far thicker than you were ever used to. Hitoshi muttered your praises, telling you of how well you were doing as he slowly filled you full of him.

“You’re doing so well.” He groaned out, teeth gritted as his jaw clamped tightly shut as he did his best not to spill his load into you before he barely had begun to have his fun. “You’re so close, almost there my darling.”

He could tell why Hanta was so fond of you, so unwilling to let you venture off on your own and out of his sight. Your cunt was truly heavenly as it swallowed his cock greedily, already spasming and milking him for what he was worth. He let out a strangled breath, a mixture of a moan and a sigh, once you were fully seated; taking note of your discomfort once more, he rocked your hips back and forth in a lazy, slow, manner until your brows became unpinched and your huffs turned to sighs of pleasure.

“That’s it, good girl…” He sighed out once you took control and swayed your hips on your own, hands glided to your waist to help lift your hips to bounce upward upon him; showcasing to you the gentle rhythm he wanted you to ride him. 

“L-like this?” You asked, as you placed your hands in a more steady position upon his chest as you rolled your hips to glide him in and out of your heat; moaning alongside him when you hit a particularly tender spot within you.

“Fuck yes.” He groaned as he threw his head back for but a moment to relish fully in the euphoric feeling of your tight, dripping, hole.

His hands began to wander again as the slow and unhurried lovemaking progressed. Fingertips took hold and dug into your supple flesh anywhere he could, from the plush of your beautiful thighs, to pinching at your waist, to massaging and groping your breasts. Hitoshi had to distract himself from his more primal urges, to find a use for his body to ensure that his hips didn’t snap up into you. For he was aware of what your exhausted body needed, and that was not being rough.

You cried out sharply when you felt his hand make swift contact with your backside, your supple cheek radiating heat from the pain, as your eyes snapped back onto him; tears formed in your lashes as you blubbered out “what did I do wrong?”

Hitoshi did feel a little guilty, your sad eyes were not something he wished to see, but it was a far better cry than how they drooped just moments prior. His fingers brushed over the sore flesh, as he pressed more soft kisses to your jaw as a way of an apology; taking hold of it, in his other hand, after the peppering of affection

“Look at me, my flower.” He whispered, brows furrowing as he felt you tighten around him. “I need you to look at me, alright?”

You nodded in affirmation to his request with a sniffle, tears still formed upon your lash as you continued to rock your hips against his own; the pleasure overwhelmed you as repeatedly hit the small spongy button within you that made you feel dizzy. Matched that with the fabric of his tunic that caught your clit every time you moved made stars dance across your eyes. It caused you to ascend to your release far quicker than you ever thought possible, as your mewls and babbles of “more” filled the air.

He could tell you were close, given how your walls clamped sporadically around him while you gushed and leaked down onto his thighs. His quiet moans of pleasure melded with your own as he hugged your body tightly against his, as his hips bucked into your own; taking control over you in that primal manner he wished to suppress but could not any longer.

His grip tightened the harsher his hips snapped into you, his heavy cock bullying its way into you to perpetually hit that special spot that made you breathless and squirm within his hold. He was so close to letting go, but he could not do so before you, for he wished for nothing more than to feel your sweet cunt around him as you came.

Your eyes shut tightly as your body seized and gave into the surmounting pleasure and pressure in your core. You wailed out, as those waves crashed into you over and over; your eyes rolled back into your skull as white danced across your vision before you felt yourself go limp against him.

Hitoshi felt your breath against his nape as he held your shaking body against him as he continued to chase his own high. He could tell you were doing your best to stay awake, but how could you? After all, you had climbed a mountain of pleasure before jumping down from it, not even the most powerful of Gods could sway from exhaustion from something such as that.

Yet, despite being stuck between the realm of awake and napping, he could still feel your warm walls clenching in response to his bucking hips. With the knowledge that despite you not being awake you were still reacting to him, your body still obeyed him in some fashion, causing his teeth to clench as he hissed out a final breath before he spilled inside you; filling your pussy completely with his cum.

Hitoshi took a moment to hold your body flush against him as clambered down from his high; placing kisses upon your brow and temple in a prolonged manner to showcase to you his appreciation. He shifted your body to lay more comfortably against his chest once the mood suited him, staying buried deep inside you to ensure that when you woke you would still be filled with his cum, as his hands ran up and down your tired body in a soothing and loving manner.  

“There’s a good little flower,” Hitoshi muttered into your hair, pressing a final kiss to your crown, as he pulled you higher in his hold as he admired your sleeping form. “I’ll take much better care of you than he ever will.”

stay tuned for more~

[the-fandom-is-now-my-life]

Hi 👋🏻 are you taking requests for the creators child AU.

Could the child be Alhaitham's or maybe Diluc's.

Thank you

The creator had

Such a smart child

WC: ~900

This feels more like a collection of head cannons but enjoy!

I believe Nahida would be able to dull the hit to the archons enough for them to not have a public outbreak like in other scenarios, so most of the gossip around is from people of sumeru.

“Stop speaking like that of the acting great sage! The matra will get you punished if they hear you talking like that”

“I'm not claiming anything! I'm just saying it's weird how much time he spent around them”

“They were reviewing the structure of the akademiya”

“Sure, and my wife and I were just studying so many years ago”

“Profesor…”

"that is why my daughter was finishing highschool when we both published our thesis. We were 38 but you get the point"

"professor please... Stop..."

It has been a running rumor for a few months, but nobody really believes it, the stone faced great sage and their welcoming grace? No, never, impossible. There are scholars attempting to refute it but their attempts are short-lived as a few months later you settle back in sumeru, and your lazyly hanging robe you wear now is pushed slightly forward around the abdomen, just enough for it to be an untold fact.

“Why am I returning? I guess it just felt right, given everything” slowly after the theory took traction.

On the later months the baby gets calm whenever he is read books, the kicking stopping for as long as anyone recited paragraphs of dense knowledge, it was a common occurrence for you to tag along thesis defenses, something that professors enjoyed the opportunity of chat you up and students suddenly put delays because of sickness on masse.

“I wonder why they are all so nervous to defend their statement! I don't even ask them questions for them to be scared of me!”

“I think regardless of what you did or didn't do any of them would be at ease”

“And I heard they sit through thesis defenses and lectures because the child is calm hearing long speeches”

“I heard that too! I even heard that once they summoned one of the great sages to read a book so they could fall asleep”

“Really! Could it be…” the teen girl looks at her friend mischievously “great sage al haitham?” Making her friend look away feigning not knowing.

°•°

“I'm extremely sorry for calling you so late, Haitham” you lay on your bed, back flush against the wall. The covers on your lap make little to cover the almost watermelon sized bump “I attempted to read to see if he calmed down on his own but when I stop he starts kicking up a storm”

Alhaitham drags your vanity stool to your bedside, a soft creaking sound coming from the friction between the woods. He just hums as he skims the bookshelf “don't fret so much, it's only natural for me to do this” his fingers dance softly caressing the spines of various books ranging from Inazuma novellas to published investigation on bird care “what has been working best? Early language dictionary? Transcripts of old manuscripts?”

“alchemical botany has been doing alright”

“great, it's coming out to be a spantamad or amurta. I'm sure Tighnari and Cyno will be elated with the news” he rolls his eyes and pulls out a leather bound book with vine engraving.

“Aww, is someone jealous?”

“I'm just saying that something like ‘development of runic language during the last 300 years’ might be more interesting” you just snicker “weren't you attempting to sleep? Close your eyes”

You side down the pillows with a smile on your lips “fine, if you don't want to read alchemical botany why don't you use the white book?” as he glances over he read the simple title ‘weight distribution in columns depending on materials’ and sighs heavily.

“Spantamad might not be so bad.”

There is a small whisper in the last few months that the child could be meant to be one of the great sages but the matra keeps it down when someone starts with it.

When he is born Alhaitham reads to his son some of the books he kept from his parents.

The one year old is perched on his lap, leaning against one of his arms while they both look at the book, one of them reading attentively the words and explaining some concepts while the other is attempting to fall asleep.

“I doubt he is truly listening to you”

“You would be surprised by how much the biology faculty showed children can learn before school”

“I believe they meant before the 5 years mark, not 6 months”

Maybe even wants you to do something similar, it could be an essay, thesis or even storybook but he would want it to have some banter between you two or little comments like “it's good that you remembered to spell correctly postganglionic fibers, I don't have to correct you anymore”

He uses kaveh as an underpaid nanny just plopping the toddler on his lap and leaving without saying a word. He does stop when his son's drawings start to feature more houses and structures than people.

“Are we sure he is mine?”

“For the sixth time, yes. He is a carbon copy of you”

When your baby grows he is the smartest of his class, reciting everything his father read to him since before his birth, even if he refuses to acknowledge it al haitham is really proud of his son and his little shelf with math Olympics medals or the certificate he got from the first place in a writing competition.

Even then the moment your son turns 18 and has to decide what branch he wants to go into is the hardest week of his life, dreading the possibility of another architect in his life. He is quite happy when he choses spantamad, even if he would have like him to go for haravatat.

[homunculus-argument]

Why are you Finns so miserable? From an outside perspective, as someone who lives in a country where our government has continuously failed us, your country seems to be nearly perfect. It seems like paradise.

I truly feel that most people living in my country would kill to live in one like yours. I would saw off my leg if it meant that I could have the guaranteed quality of life that you guys have.

So why are you guys so sad? Is it the cold? The lack of sunlight? I’m seriously at a loss here, because I feel like you guys really take your homeland for granted.

I have no idea. Being alive is simply an unpleasant obligation and a thankless duty that you owe to nobody in particular and gain nothing out of doing. I was literally born as an unpleasant obligation - my parents didn't like each other and they didn't like children, but they married each other and had two kids because that's what people are supposed to do. When we whined as kids about how we don't want to go to school, they'd just say "well I don't want to go to work, either, but unfortunately that's just what life is." Life consists of going places you don't want to go to do things you don't want to do.

My mother once told me that if I ever kill myself, she will go completely insane, just the way that my grandmother went insane when my aunt killed herself. I was like 15 at the time when she told me this, I had been three years old when the aforementioned aunt died. I had never known her, but I was raised with the understanding that the only reason to continue being alive is peer pressure. You don't get to die, you have to keep living because the people around you would be sad if you quit. It's a mutual hostage situation.

Back when the church had more power and death penatly was a thing, there were people who committed crimes that had a death penalty (or claimed to have committed them, depending on the crime) in order to get executed rather than simply commit suicide, because suicide was an unforgivable sin but if you were executed, you could still confess your sins before the final blow and die with hopes of going to heaven.

Finns aren't oblivious of how bad things are everywhere else, or how good we have it. That, too, is a source of misery. It's a whole country of "you have no reason to be sad, there are people out there with real problems" and being reminded that everything everywhere else is even more miserable than how we have it. That anyone else would be ready to kill or saw off their own leg to get to be here, and here we are squandering all this potential by sitting here like a miserable little piece of shit.

Frankly, I am baffled by the concept that there really are people who just genuinely, honestly, wholeheartedly want to live. Like as a preferrable option to having never been born at all. To me, finding happiness in life has always been a "when life gives you lemons, make lemonade" sort of thing, finding silver linings out of the unfortunate matter that I happened to be born.

[janeyseymour]

La Cosa Nostra- pt 1

*clears throat* ...hi. i present to you, the first part of the fic that @schemmentis are co-writing. and damn, if i do say so myself.

Summary: You're a part of the mob. Melissa is a part of the mafia. Together... it makes for an interesting life.

Let us know what you think because we are having an absolute BLAST with this!

WC: ~3k

You really don’t know how you ended up in this position. 

One day, you were working at the local hair salon, the next, you learned that your boss was tied up in the mafia and needed some help getting out. Luckily for him; you already had contacts. Just not on the side he was with. Which means you couldn’t entirely get him out of trouble but you could help. And you did. You had called your “Uncle'' Joe for a favor. A big one. Taking the loans of your boss at the hair salon off the Italian’s books and claiming them to the Irish instead. At least then, you knew exactly who needed to be spoken to for the loans and what was owed. And that’s how you met Melissa Schemmenti.

Melissa had been sent on behalf of the Italian’s. To negotiate taking the salon’s books. She hadn’t given it up easily. The only saving grace was the fact that the Irish taking the books meant the Italians didn’t have a problem to worry about anymore. It was hard not to want to agree from the Italian side of it. They had nothing to lose. And you were indebting yourself a great deal to your own “family” by taking it on. Except you knew you could turn a profit if you were given the chance. You argued with the red-head spokeswoman tooth and nail, like your life depended on it. Yours didn’t, not yet. Your boss’ life did, though. 

When Melissa finally agreed to turn over the books, she’d shaken your hand with an all too satisfied smile. One that you hadn’t forgotten since. You went around everyone in your extended “family” to ask her out. You half expected her to cuss you out and make it extremely well known you had tried. Instead, she’d said yes and told you to pick her up at six.

Fast forward seven years: you now own the hair salon, that red headed woman is your wife, and you have two beautiful little girls together. Everything is great- you would even dare to say perfect. Your front is working perfectly while still being one of the best hair salons in all of Philadelphia, your wife’s restaurant has taken off and she’s been named one of the most up and coming restauranteurs in the city, and your two children are well on their way to blossoming into two of the smartest kindergarteners you know.

The day your daughters were born is second only to the day you married Melissa in the happiest day of your life. Deciding to start a family as soon as possible, you began to lay down the foundations for a family. It had been decided that you would carry while attempting to find a donor that was as similar to your wife as possible. 

The two of you had tried a few times before and hadn’t managed to get pregnant. The day that you went in to take a test and the doctor told you that were indeed pregnant was one that you’ll never forget- Melissa jumping out of her seat and tackling you in a hug, her hand already resting gently on your flat stomach. And when you found out that you were blessed enough to be pregnant with twins, Melissa had gripped your hand, making a cross over her chest with the other. She thanked God for blessing you with two; she thanked you for carrying them since she couldn’t imagine being the one to. 

Having you carry was risky though, and it never left either of your minds through the entire pregnancy that you were technically on the forefront of this illegal business that you found yourself a part of now. But you were able to make it through your entire pregnancy without a hair on your head touched (you’re fairly certain Melissa had threatened both sides that if you were even looked at the wrong way they would be taken care of). 

Melissa, even five years later, is positive you were only flattering her when you had requested to name one of your girls in honor of her. She was the love of your life, after all, you had argued. Caterina Ann had been born first, and two minutes later her sister followed. Melissa named her Rosalina Marie. Gifting one of her sister’s middle names despite their estrangement. When the two of them did finally reconcile and Kristen Marie met your rays of sunshine, she wept at their names.

And then, it all comes crashing down on you. You’re out with your wife to pick up the girls from their day at school when your phone rings- and not your personal phone: the phone that you use specifically for your business.

“Hello?” you answer softly.

“Y/N,” the manager on call replies. “We have a bit of a problem over at the salon.”

“You can handle it,” you roll your eyes. “I’m out getting ready to pick up the girls.”

“They ain’t takin’ no for an answer,” he says lowly. “Insisting you come speak to them directly.”

You hazard a glance at your wife, who is looking at you with furrowed brows. “Let me pick the girls up, drop the family at home, and then I’ll be in.”

“Make it quick.”

“Don’t speak to me like that,” you reprimand your employee. “Don't forget I can fire your ass.”

“All I’m sayin’ is, if you don’t get down here sooner rather than later, there’s gonna be a much bigger problem on our hands than we have now.” He hangs up.

You stuff your phone in your pocket, look up at the sky, and audibly ask the question, “Why?” All you wanted to do was pick up the girls and have a nice family night. You’d finally been able to take the day off after almost a month of straight work. Now though, that was being taken away from you, and you couldn’t even get a clear answer as to why.

“Why what?” your wife asks you, clearly concerned.

“After we get Cat and Rosie, I have to head down to the salon,” you huff. “Tony called and said someone is down there specifically asking for me over some sort of problem. So, I’m either giving out a ridiculous credit or I’m dealing with...” you trail off, knowing she’ll understand.

Melissa squeezes your hand. “Go. I can handle ‘em. Just... please be back for bedtime, because then I have to head to the restaurant to prep for tomorrow."

“I’ll do what I can,” you promise her. You peck her lips, and you turn in the direction of your business wondering what the hell you’ll be walking into.

You walk in through the staff entrance of the salon, swiftly ducking into the back office before anyone up front can notice. You dig through desk drawers and the small filing cabinet in the corner. You quickly slip one binder, the ledger of the illegal side of the business into the space between your belt and back before you tuck your blazer coat back over it. You grip the other binder you’d grabbed, the legal ledger, as you step back out of the office and towards the front.

“Tony,” You greet your manager with a big smile. Your eyes flashing your annoyance at him. “Who do we have here?” You quickly turn your attention to the two individuals standing in front of Tony. You hold your hand out to shake. 

Instead of a handshake, a badge is flashed from each of the suits now focusing on you. “Agent Danik, and this Agent Shaw, FBI. You own this establishment?”

“I do.” You confirm. “What can I help you with?”

“We have reason to believe this salon is laundering money. We’d like to ask you a few questions,” Danik tells you lowly.

“I’d be happy to answer what I can.” You say, attempting to seem cooperative. You know it won’t help you to dig your heels in. “But I can’t imagine where you’d get the idea of money laundering. I’ve owned this salon for almost a decade.”

“And you bought it from Bobby Esposito, is that right?” Shaw asks, brow raised.

“That’s right,” you tell them honestly. “I worked for Bobby for a few years before that; managing the office and schedules. All that.” What you’re saying is true- for years you had sent out schedules, managed different finances, and became the best stylist your business has to offer.

“Were you aware Bobby was murdered a few years ago?”

You blink. You did know. It would be next to impossible for you not to know. “Uncle” Joey had ordered the hit on Bobby and informed you about it so you wouldn't be surprised. Now, you make an effort to look shocked. “Bobby? Murdered?” You echo, your brow furrowing. “Why would somebody do somethin’ like that? Bobby’s just…an old man by now.”

The agents’ faces don’t change. You feel a shot of ice down your spine at the thought they don’t believe you. “We were hoping you might have an idea about that. The PPD has been kind enough to lend us a room. You mind coming down to the station with us, have a chat about all this?”

“I don’t mind.” You answer as calmly as you can. “But I have two little girls waiting for me at home. I promised them a bedtime story and all, you know how it is. Couldn’t I meet you down there tomorrow?”

“I know how it is.” Agent Shaw answers with a sigh. “I have a little girl myself. Unfortunately, you’re gonna have to miss the stories tonight.” He does seem a bit regretful at the knowledge of you having children, but it doesn’t change the fact that they need you down at the station tonight.

You curse in your mind. Not only are your girls going to be disappointed; so is your wife. Not to mention the binder you’re still hiding that is definitely going to be noticed at some point.

“Right…” You murmur, glancing away from the agents. “Tony, call Mel for me, won’t you? Let her know I’m gonna be late tonight.” You say before starting to follow the agents out. “Oh,” You say, pretending to remember something. You glance over your shoulder. “And tell her to take that ziti of hers off the menu, huh?” You pretend it disgusts you to even think about it. It’s something you’d never dream of saying seriously. Which is why you say it now. When Melissa hears you said to pass that along, she’ll know something is wrong. Very wrong.

As you make your way out of your business and are escorted to one of the cars out front, Tony practically shits himself inside. He knows what’s happening, and he does not want to be the one to have to relay this information to your wife. Still though, an order from the boss is an order from the boss. He calls her cell phone on his own.

“Hello?” she answers as she juggles making dinner, assisting the girls with their reading, and making a list of things she needs to purchase for her own business tomorrow.

“Melissa? It’s Tony,” your manager sighs into the phone. “Don’t shoot the messenger when I tell you this, but Y/N ain’t gonna be home for bedtime stories tonight.”

Your wife nearly fumes. “What do you mean she isn’t gonna be... yeah, Rosie, that says ‘think’, good job sweetheart... What do you mean she isn’t gonna be home tonight?”

“She’s handling her business,” Tony states. “And you need to handle yours. Y/N said to take your ziti off the menu- it’s lacking.” And then he hangs up.

Almost immediately, the redhead knows something is wrong. That anger that had been there just a few seconds ago disappears in a flash- you’re in trouble somehow. You would never, ever tell her that her ziti is lacking. It’s your favorite dish of hers, and has been- it was the first dish that she ever made for you and had secured a place for her in your heart. It was the dish that you insisted be at your wedding because you knew that it would only make the one of the happiest days of your life even better. 

She knows she has to call her manager and let her know that she won't be in until late tonight, if at all. The restaurateur is able to relay this information, along with the ingredients that she’s managed to put on a list to go shopping for, before turning her attention back to your girls and the meal that’s being made.

Once dinner is on the table, Cat and Rosie chat your wife’s ear off about their days- and while she would usually listen avidly, her mind wanders to you and what you could be dealing with right now.

“Mommy?” Rosie waves a hand in front of her mother’s eyes.

Melissa blinks a few times. “Sorry, baby. Mommy’s a little distracted thinking about the restaurant right now. What were you saying?”

She makes an active attempt to stay as engaged with the girls as possible. And they’re fine, up until bedtime. They know you’re supposed to be home by now; you had promised them that you would be home for a family night and to read them a story like you haven't been able to for a bit now.

“Mam is running late,” Melissa tells them regretfully. “But I’m sure she’ll read you a story another time, so can you please just let Mommy read and get to sleep? You have school tomorrow.”

That throws both of your girls into absolute conniption fits, and your wife can only get them to settle with her in the bed that the two of you share, each of them clinging to one of your pillows. The woman who so desperately needs to attend to her own business sighs as she settles into the middle of the bed, one of your twins on either side of her, and prays that you’re okay.

You rub your eyes as you sigh. Both Agent Shaw and Agent Dinek are sat across from you at the small table. The small interrogation room feels even smaller than it did when you entered. It’s warm with its lack of windows. It takes a good portion of your concentration every few minutes to remember you can’t remove your blazer despite the Agents having removed their’s a long time ago.

“For the fifteenth time,” You grit out between your teeth. Your hand falling away from your eyes to thunk onto the metal table. “I have no idea who would wanna hurt Bobby. He was a nice enough boss even if he was clueless about how to balance his accounting. I didn’t wanna hurt Bobby. I bought the salon from him years ago, which would have been the only thing he’d have that I’d want anyway.”

“Y/N, you know that just telling us the truth would get you out of here a lot faster.” Agent Dinek says. She doesn’t lean forward or uncross her arms that are over her chest as she looks at you. She looks bored now.

Your hand on the table curls into a fist. You’ve let the interrogation go on this long, hoping it would just be a few questions you could bat off. A couple answers and then home. Now, it’s nearing three in the morning and you’re still sitting in the uncomfortable chair. The agents are still staring at you from their seats next to the door. You swear the thermostat has risen a couple times since you’ve been here.

This, being in an interrogation room at the PPD with FBI agents, is dangerous. Asking for your lawyer is even more dangerous. If you have to resort to that; you’re well and truly fucked. In the few times you’d been in interrogation rooms, you’d only had to answer a few questions, clear up a timeline. That was it. Those moments though were never with the FBI. 

They had only been with the PPD. Police officers you were more than familiar with. People from your neighborhood. People who knew you. People that came to the salon or your wife’s restaurant. A small handful on the force know exactly who you are and what your business really is. Those people though are in the families pockets. Irish or Italian, or both. Paid for their information their unique positions give them access to. 

Agent Shaw and Agent Dinek aren’t in anyone’s pocket. They seem to know exactly who is, at least on the streets, though. They’ve brought up plenty of names you’re overly familiar with over the last twelve hours or so. Triple checking how you know them, and how well you know them.

You’re reaching your limit. If you don’t ask to speak with your lawyer, force the “interview” to end, your only other option is to come clean. You think about emerald green eyes. The eyes you fell in love with practically the first time you looked into them. You think about little faces that look like little minis of your wife even though she claims they look more like you. If you come clean it isn’t just you paying for this. Nevermind the people beneath you and the rest of the families. 

What kills you to picture is your wife and your daughters paying for it. You don’t really care what happens to the Irish or the Italians at this moment. The entirety of Cosa Nostra could fall apart and you wouldn’t give a damn. If your wife or your girls are touched even the slightest, even just inconvenienced, you would raise hell. 

You slowly lean back in your chair, feeling the binder beneath your blazer press into your spine. “I’d like to speak with my lawyer.”

TAGS, and let me know if you want to be added! : @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @thesamesweetie @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @gwennybriggs @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @sapphicxrat @a-queen-and-her-throne @sunsol-22 @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson

[fatalforesight]

i don't think i could stand to be where you don't see me

rhaenyra x alicent, modern day au: Rhaenyra shows up on Alicent's doorstep with an arts and craft project for the next concert they're seeing together. Alicent plays dress up for Rhaenyra without totally meaning to. Neither girl is good at communication, it would seem.

content: 18+, minors dni. . . smut, religious themes & guilt, spanking, dom/sub undertones, dubious consent, angst, degradation, wlw, explicit photography, best friends to lovers

word count: 3,860

“Is this silly? I know we’re halfway through it, but maybe this was a silly idea,” Alicent mumbles from her spot on Rhae’s couch.

Rhae is across the room, struggling with her needle and thread. She laughs, but the sound is forced. “You don’t have to wear them if you don’t want to. At this rate, mine won’t even be legible.”

“Oh, Rhae,” Alicent sighs, looking over at her friend. “Here, stop that. You’re staining them so much with blood that the thread isn’t going to show. I’ll do yours.” Rhae gives in, throwing the hot shorts to the side with a frustrated noise. She pulls the tip of her forefinger into her mouth, sucking at one of many pinpricks. Alicent swallows as her eyes linger on the image, then looks back down with shame. On Alicent’s own project, the thread has become clear words, although the embroidery has been done in such a way so that the lines are somewhat sloppy, rugged. Such is Alicent’s own artistic take on the project. Across the front of the shorts, right over where her pelvic bone would be, now reads the words Rockstars Only.

A few months ago, Alicent’s mom came home with tickets for an up-and-coming band she claimed the girls would adore. Alerie worked for recording companies in their PR departments, and had always gotten them tickets for different artists depending on what label she was working for. 

“You’re really gonna like this band, guys,” Alerie told Alicent and Rhae the night she came home with the tickets. “And,” she started, with a twinkle in her eye, “the bassist is super hot.”

Alicent had seen pictures. The bassist was hot. And the lead singer. And the drummer. And the guy on keys. Or, Alicent figured they were hot. The boys certainly seemed like the other rockstars and boy bands that girls her age went crazy for. A few weeks ago, kind of laughing about it, Alicent and Rhae had come up with the idea to wear bras and skimpy shorts, with the embroidery they were working on now. Alicent wasn’t sure she had meant it at the time, but Rhaenyra showed up earlier tonight armed with clothing and red thread.

Alicent looks at her own work, which she really only needs to tie off. And then she glances to Rhae, who had discarded her work at Alicent’s offer and is now scrolling on her phone. Thread drips off the side of the chair that Rhae’s socked feet dangle from, and Alicent’s eyes trace from the bottom of the thread, to her friend’s ankles, then her legs, then her hips. . .

By the time Alicent gets to Rhae’s face, Rhae has turned to make eye contact. “You done? Go try it on then!”

“Oh, I don’t know. . .” “Ali, just go try it on. If the vision doesn’t work I won’t make you finish mine.”

Alicent nods, and ties up the thread on her own shorts. The words stare back at her. What was the goal? To get a band member to take them back to the bus, like groupies dying to be fucked by men they don’t even know? Alicent grimaced. 

But Rhaenyra wanted to see the finished product, and see it she would. Alicent never denied her best friend of her pleasures. And this did seem to be a pleasure to Rhae. She was practically kicking her feet as Alicent went to her room to change. “You’re gonna look so hot!” she hollered. 

“Shut up!” Alicent squealed. Rhae made her so happy, it made her forget any thoughts of icky band members and their gross dicks.

In her room, Alicent strips down to her underwear. First, she put on the bra. It’s a deep red color that matches the thread. It scoops in a way that none of Alicent’s bras do, but she knows this is the cut that Rhae prefers for herself. And sure enough, it manages to give Alicent a type of cleavage that she usually avoids.

Besides her underwear, Alicent had left one other article on her body. A cross hangs from her neck. A black chain, with red rhinestones decorating the middle of the pendant. Her fingers trace the shape, feeling the edges of the plastic and metal. Part of her screams at how wrong it feels, to see herself so nude and performative while still wearing her necklace. It was a gift from her father, who had passed down his own strict view of religion onto Alicent’s conscience. 

He lives in Seattle now. Alerie divorced him years ago. On her birthday, Alicent still gets a card. But besides that, this necklace is what she has of him.

She knows she should remove it if it makes her feel this bad. Whether it is the bra or the necklace, she isn’t sure. But they go together so well, in a way that feels. . . raunchy in a way Alicent has never felt.

She quickly pulls on the shorts. They’re simple, creamy cotton. They may as well be underwear, with the amount of ass they show in the back. But the cut isn’t quite right. Alicent’s actual underwear pokes out the top and the bottom. It makes her pout, and takes away the inflated confidence she was trying to avoid that came from the bra. 

The idea that comes to her feels bolder than anything she has ever done. But, she thinks, if she doesn’t feel comfortable she can always just say it didn’t work.

Slowly, Alicent slides the shorts back down her legs. And right after, she slides her underwear down, too. She looks at herself in the mirror, in nothing but the bra Rhae picked out for her, and her cross. There is a cropped thatch of hair between her legs. Alicent is almost certain it will show through the fabric. She trims, but she doesn’t shave; too afraid to cut herself with the razor and have to tell her mom.

Without breathing, Alicent slides the shorts back up without her underwear on this time. Even though she and Rhae are recently twenty, and she knows Rhae owns all assortments of thongs and bikini-cut underwear, she herself has been unable to purchase anything beyond her standard, full-coverage Hanes. Another remnant of her fathers teachings on modesty.

The shorts hug her in a way they didn’t before, free from odd lines caused by her underwear. Alicent turns in the mirror, and her jaw drops at just how much cheek hangs out from the sides. And, as she suspected, the cream color is just not dark enough to hide the brown, wiry hair on her pelvis. It’s a scandal just to watch herself in the glass. 

Initially, she is certain she will not go to show Rhaenyra. The appearance is vulgar, sinful. But, almost against her will, she moves on autopilot. She grabs red ankle socks from her drawer, and her Mary Janes.

She goes back to the mirror, with socks and shoes now on for the full effect. She reaches up, and pulls out the claw clip holding her curls. All of her hair falls down at once, framing her face, and covering her back. Alicent can’t be sure if she’s beautiful or not - all she knows is that she’s never looked like this, and she wants Rhae to see her this way.

Taking a deep breath, she walks out her bedroom door and down the hall to where Rhaenyra waits.

Rhae is still lounging in the chair, but she’s moved her shorts onto the couch for when Alicent comes back to finish or discard them. She mumbles along to a video on her phone, still sprawled with her legs over the arm of the chair. Alicent clears her throat.

Her friend smiles, turning off the phone and setting it down before looking at Alicent. Rhae’s face drops, her mouth hanging open on the first syllable of a word as she stares in wonder at Alicent’s final outfit.

Alicent wonders if she is imagining the way Rhae’s eyes stick on her pelvis for a second longer than they do everywhere else. “Oh, Alicent. . . you have outdone yourself,” Rhae whispers.

“I guess I’m finishing yours then,” Alicent jokes, trying to cut what she now feels is a new kind of tension she isn’t sure she has ever shared with her friend. Rhae meets Alicent’s eyes, fully sitting up now. She meant that she liked them, right?

“Are you wearing underwear?” 

Alicent feels herself blanch. She had not been imagining then, but maybe it was for the wrong reasons. Suddenly she feels gross, like she has done something wrong. “Oh, yeah. Ha. Shorts looked weird with, uh, granny panties, as you like to call them. I can go change. I was worried it was a bad move.”

“Don’t!” Rhae exclaims. Alicent’s eyes widen. “I mean. I mean. Sorry, I was just curious. You know I’m all for going commando.” A playful spark ignites in Rhanyra’s eyes. “I think I’ll do the same when we go tomorrow.”

A slickness appears between Alicent’s legs and she feels herself grow embarrassed at its presence, especially considering the color of the shorts and the fact it probably won’t take much to make her problem clear to Rhae.

“Right. Okay. I’m going to go take this off and then get started on yours.”

“When you got all dressed up? No, c’mon, we’re gonna take some pictures.”

Alicent thinks she’s going to throw up. “We can take pictures tomorrow,” she says weakly.

Rhae shakes her head, smirking. “You look good, Ali. We’ll take more tomorrow, but I want some now.” Rhae stands, grabbing her phone and Alicent’s hand. “Come with me.”

This is not a change Alicent is prepared for. Suddenly she’s on autopilot again, following Rhae to the sliding glass doors that lead onto the balcony of her mom’s apartment. Rhae slides the door open, and ushers Alicent out.

It’s sunset outside, and below people honk their horns in five o’clock traffic. Alicent lives eight stories up, so the wind is blowing constantly on her balcony. A breeze shoots by now, ruffling Alicent’s hair.

Rhaenyra ponders for a second, then seems to decide how she wants Alicent. This is always how it is with Rhae, with her moving Alicent like a mannequin to take pictures whenever she wants. Alicent isn’t sure why Rhae likes having so many pictures of her. The one time she asked, Rhae only said she liked having pictures of her best friend, and why make it more complicated?

Pale hands move Alicent until she’s against the railing. “Trust me, okay?” Rhae whispers. Her eyes are a deep blue, and they stare into Alicent with a ferocity that makes her feel hot behind her cheeks. Alicent allows Rhaenyra to push her chest until she’s hung over the railing and her eyes are trained on the sky. Then, gently, Rhae pulls both of Alicent’s hands to spread across the iron bar her back now arches on. 

In her ear, Rhaenyra whispers, “Cross your legs for me. At the ankle.” Alicent does, but mourns Rhae’s hands on her, doing the posing for her. She hears Rhaenyra step back, admiring her work. “That’s good. Hold onto that,” she says, and then Alicent hears one of the balcony chairs scrape and presumably Rhae stand up on top of it. Alicent closes her eyes, feeling the wind pass over her. Her stomach, her arms, her breasts. . .

“Okay, that’s good. Stay just like that, but spread your legs as far as you can.”

Alicent’s eyes pop open in shock. She doesn’t move an inch. “Rhaenyra. . .”

“Just trust me! You’ll like what you see.”

Slowly, trying to ignore the wetness that has only gotten worse in her crotch, Alicent begins to spread her legs. She screws her eyes shut, feeling mortified. There is no telling whether her shorts are showing what she’s going through right now, but if they are there will be no hiding from it. She feels debauched now, and pathetic. 

Rhae groans, annoyed. “Bend your knees, it’s not quite right. Now spread further. Okay, keep your knees bent, but pull your knees in. Like inwards, don’t push them more outwards. Ugh!” 

Alicent’s best friend is not known for her patience. And though she is trying to listen to instructions, she knows she isn’t doing it right when she hears Rhae get down from her chair-perch. Delicate, chilled fingers graze on the insides of her knees, and it makes Alicent shiver.

“Like this, Ali,” Rhae says, pulling her left knee inwards. She does the same to the other knee, and then Alicent feels her friend stop moving entirely. She holds her breath, but Alicent just knows. She knows Rhae has seen a wet patch between Alicent’s legs. And Alicent nearly screams at herself when she feels her cunt clench from the realization, forcing more slick out.

Hot air hits Alicent’s thigh, and it feels so new and different that it makes her groan aloud before she can stop herself. She slaps a hand over her mouth, in shock at her behavior. She hears Rhaenyra move back. “Stay just like that,” Rhae says, sharp and clear. “Keep your hand on your mouth, too. I like that.”

She says nothing else, but Alicent can tell she leaves the balcony to go inside. A few moments later, Rhae returns. Alicent still cannot see her, but she doesn’t hear her get on the chair this time. There is silence, and then the next thing Alicent hears is a click, click, click.

A camera. Rhaenyra has retrieved her real, expensive camera, rather than continue using her phone. “I wasn’t even sure you had sexual desires if I’m going to be honest with you, Ali,” Rhaenyra says. Her voice is strong, and gives nothing away. “You’ll have to forgive me for wanting to capture this moment on film. It’s not everyday you see your best friend give into kink for the first time.”

“I’m not-” Alicent’s voice breaks, and she curses herself. “I don’t understand what you mean.”

“What made you wet, Alicent? No panties? Being photographed like this? Or is it the thought of one of those band boys seeing you in this. . . getup?” Suddenly, Alicent realizes that Rhaenyra sounds angry. Almost vengeful.

“I’m- I’m-”

Rhaenyra makes a mean noise. “I’m- I’m-” she mocks. Then Rhaenyra reaches forward and grabs Alicent by the shoulder. For a short moment, they’re face to face, and Rhaenyra snarls. “Get on your knees.”

Alicent doesn’t hesitate. She drops to her knees so fast it hurts, but she likes the way they scrape on the concrete. Makes her feel like she’s paying for this in some way, whatever she has caused in Rhaenyra. Tears spring to her eyes. She keeps her vision upwards, on Rhaenyra. A part of her is begging for clarity, to understand this sudden shift in Rhae’s tone. But another, newer part of her is worried clarity would bring an end to whatever this has become. She lets her gaze fall to the ground

“Look up at me,” Rhaenyra mutters the minute Ali’s head drops. Alicent listens, and one single droplet falls from her eye to her cheek. She can’t see Rhae behind the camera now, but she hears the click and sees the flash to let her know that Rhae can see her, and she finds the image photo-worthy. She takes a few more like that, with Alicent gazing up with big, pleading eyes. Then Rhae moves back into the apartment, and gets down on one knee. Without removing the camera, she orders, “Start crawling to me. All fours.”

Alicent gulps. Surely Rhae can’t be serious? But as her friend trains the camera on her again, Alicent knows there is nothing to do but follow instructions now. She crawls towards Rhaenyra, and she feels her pussy throbbing against her shorts as she does. Rhae takes multiple photos again, then finally puts down the camera. Alicent freezes, staring and not moving until told. “I’m tired of this weepy, begging bit,” Rhaenyra claims. “Roll onto your back.”

By now, something has begun boiling in Alicent’s groin that cannot be undone. And she feels herself become almost stupid in its wake, not knowing what to do but listen, obey, do as she is told. Rolling, Alicent watches as her friend stands and walks around her, grabbing her phone from outside and then closing the door behind her as she comes back in. The room goes quiet once the noise from outside is no longer present. Looking up, Alicent is silent as Rhaenyra comes to stand over her, then drops down to her knees at Alicent’s feet.

“Spread your legs again,” Rhae says, still sounding annoyed but more removed. Alicent frowns, but still follows Rhae’s instructions. As soon as there is room, Rhaenyra scoots in closer. Without another command, Rhae grabs the camera again and brings it to her eyes with one hand. She points the lens at Alicent’s face, and Alicent is so wrapped up in staring at her own reflection that she doesn’t notice Rhae’s other hand moving swiftly toward her chest.

The moan Alicent lets out is unseemly, and she feels her eyes screw shut again - in pleasure, this time - as Rhae fondles her through the bra. She hears the clicking of the camera shutters again, but it hardly matters to her as she loses herself to the sensation of being touched where no one else has touched her before.

Rhaenyra squeezes her fingers, and Alicent’s back arches off the floor at the foreign feeling. Her clit aches, and she feels another rush of slick from between her legs. “Rockstars only, huh? Or does anyone get to touch sweet, virginal Alicent if she gets to be on camera?”

Alicent knows in her head that Rhae has got it all wrong. But now she can’t think straight with Rhaenyra’s hand on her, and she can’t make words come out. All that leaves her is whimpers and moans at the camera clicks and Rhae squeezes and gropes. 

“You’re making a mess in your brand new shorts, Alicent,” Rhaenyra notes, and then before Alicent can protest she feels the hand on her breast move down between her legs as Rhae cups her cunt with her hand.

“Rhaenyra!” Alicent screams. Rhae moves two fingers against the shape of Alicent’s hole, and her palm digs into Alicent’s clit. It’s like nothing Alicent has ever felt before, nothing like she has been able to do to herself. “Uhhhngggg,” she moans, and her eyes roll back into her head. Distantly, she hears more clicking.

“Is this what you want that bassist to do to you, Ali? He won’t. He’ll use you to get his dick wet and you’ll be lucky if he remembers your name long enough to sign an autograph.” Rhaenyra is panting, and Alicent opens her eyes enough to see the camera get put down. Rhae’s now-free hand goes back to Alicent’s chest, and it all begins to seem too much for her. She screams again, a tidal wave inches away from crashing over her.

Rhae’s other hand, still firm on Alicent’s cunt, suddenly is gone. And then immediately it comes back, striking Alicent’s mound with force she isn’t prepared for. Alicent’s whole body arches from the floor, and her hand comes to grasp her cross as her heels dig into the carpet. Fingers push into her hole as much as they can from the other side of the fabric, and Rhae’s thumb rubs fast and hard circles onto her clit. 

Her vision goes white, and her ears begin to ring as Alicent feels herself come on Rhae’s fingers, arch into her friend’s hand on her chest and her pussy. Vaguely she thinks she may be screaming in a way that could concern neighbors if she doesn’t stop. 

And then the world comes back into a hazy, light existence, right where Alicent left it a few minutes ago.

The hands disappear. There are shutters clicking from miles and miles away. A dazed expression rests on Alicent’s face as she gasps for air without a thought in her head. And then she realizes Rhae has gotten up and is moving to pack her things away. “Rhae?” Alicent asks, her voice shaky and weak. 

“Finish my shorts for me, you’re better at embroidery than I am. I’ll be by tomorrow a couple hours before the concert to pick you up so we can walk together.”

Rhaenyra does not look at Alicent. Alicent feels herself begin to cry. “Rhaenyra, why did you do that?”

The pleading in her voice must be what stops her friend cold. Rhaenyra turns to Alicent, the venom gone from her eyes that was there throughout the impromptu photoshoot. “Did you. . . not enjoy it?” Rhaenyra asks, her gaze downcast. Ashamed.

“I-I did, but. . .” But not for the reasons you think, is what Alicent leaves unsaid, unable to finish the thought.

“Well then. Consider it prep for the drummer. Or the bassist. I’m sure any of them will like what they see,” Rhaenyra spits, then finishes grabbing her things and storms out the door.

After the door has closed, into the silence Alicent says, “I don’t want them. I wanted you.” She curls into a ball on the carpet, and lets the tears fall freely. Finally, Alicent feels everything she wanted to tell Rhaenyra come to her, but it is already too late. They’ll see each other tomorrow, but what will it matter then? Everything will be different. And the moment to speak will be gone.

Alicent lifts her head to gaze at the shorts Rhaenyra has left for her to finish. She’s going to have to undo all the stitches Rhae did, Alicent can tell even halfway across the room. But, feeling her strength begin to come back, she has an idea that will either permanently damage what is left of her friendship with Rhae, or fix everything she couldn’t come clean about today.

Pulling herself together, Alicent stands and walks to the shorts to begin her work.

part ii here

[isalisewrites]

A Deep Dive into JKR's Terrible, Amateur Writing - Reflective Interlude

Hello and welcome to my ballsy series where I will prove to you, dear reader, that J.K. Rowling, author of the Harry Potter series and resident Twitter TERF, is actually a very, very poor writer.

And when I say ‘poor writer,’ I’m talking about her prose, her sentence structure, and her scenes in the Harry Potter series. I am not going to discuss anything about the HP world nor the overall plot of the books. 

This is all about the nitty gritty in the craft of writing itself.

Part One Link.

Part Two Link.

However…

Hiya! *waves* I’m Isa, the author of this… Actually, I dunno what to call this series anymore. Anyway, thus far, you’ve heard a very satirical tone from me in the previous two posts, but that’s not my normal tone. I’m a rather laid back kind of gal with a side of sarcasm and deluge of emoji usage.

I have used quite a confident, even bombastically obnoxious tone in the effort to be entertaining and engaging with these posts. It was meant to be playful and sarcastic. It’s the internet, so I’m aware everyone’s attention is… kind of like a commodity, unfortunately. Look at TikTok or YouTube. How long does a 30s video hold your attention before you’re scrolling to the next? It depends for me, I’ll admit. People don’t have the attention span for long style posts such as these and that’s fair. Sometimes, I don’t either.

Thus, I used repeated ‘catch phases’ to maintain a rhythm and a thematic style through the series with a controversial title meant to hook a reader. I repeat the opening, even in this post. I repeat ‘Class is in session’ to show the beginning of the major section of the post.

However, in this interlude, I’ve toned it all down because I wanted to give you a window into my heart, my purpose, and my intent in this series. It is a reflective post that ends with writing motivation to you, my dear reader, as well as links to writerly resources. 

I’ve had a lot to think about this week and I realized that many writers (and other creatives) have to battle against an enemy found within themselves. This enemy often torments many with cruel, destructive thoughts; they burrow their way into so many writers’ minds. It whispers: “Can you really do this? Are you really sure you’re any good? Aren’t you just fooling yourself? They’re going to find out you’re just a fraud. So… why bother?”

Whose voice is that?

Let’s talk about the destroyer of creation, Imposter Syndrome, why I refuse to let the bastard infect me anymore, and why my confident tone in previous posts has grated nerves.

Remember: take what resonates and leave what doesn’t.

(This means I write my posts with the honest acceptance and expectation that not everything will fit with your style, your vibes, or your personality. That’s okay.)

All right, let’s buckle up, my dear writing friends. Grab a snack. Hydrate. Let’s begin. And yes…

Class is in session on this little Tumblr post… should you wish to attend.

Having confidence or pride in one’s work seems to be taboo. Any brief moment in time where I tried to be proud about my writing or say, Hey, I’m a good writer, I was always told to be humble. “Don’t be prideful. Be humble.” It would often chip away at my self esteem. I could be a good writer, but I couldn’t allow myself to feel like a good writer.

But no more.

I have only given myself permission to be confident about my writing within the past month. This is why I started this series in the first place. I wanted to share knowledge and in an entertaining way. I make a bold claim that I’m a better writer than JKR; I analyze her writing to both improve my own understanding and to help others as well.

However, this does not mean I’ve ever been under the delusion I’m perfect. Absolutely not. God, that’s so fucking laughable! I am not perfect. I am not a perfect writer. I definitely don’t know everything. Someone once corrected me, informing me that snakes are venomous, not poisonous. Bless them, wasn’t aware of that. Immediately fixed that. One of the recent reblogs said geodes do not contain emeralds. God bless, I didn’t know that, though in the case of how it was used in TBG, I won’t be changing it since it’s within a character thought.

Sorry, Tom. I guess you need to take a geology class, too.

Ugh, and I have so many godforsaken typos. My soul withers when I catch a typo after I’ve posted a chapter. I miss things all the time. I repeat things because ‘that’s my thing’ and I don’t always catch them in my edits. I forget things all the time. Thank GOD for Dede, someone who loved TBG so much she spent countless hours archiving data from it, where she caught a number of inconsistencies and alerted me to them. I still haven’t been able to fix them yet, but I’m so grateful to her. I’ve noted them all down. Harry’s height often is incorrectly implied to be taller than it should be because my brain isn’t wired for imagery. My brain forgets TBG Harry is a short king at 5’4” while TBG Tom is 6’2” and I need to go back to fix all of those. 

I am not a perfect writer and I don’t claim to be.

My goals with this series are to study/learn for myself, teach/share knowledge with others, and learn some more from this experience. I love this kind of analysis. But there’s difference between my analysis of JKR’s writing and a number of those who have retaliated with an analysis of my writing. 

Instead of looking at my imperfections with the desire to learn from them, they were illuminated in the attempt to ‘take me down a notch.’ To those who put in the effort to make counterpoints, I do thank you for your contribution to this series. It is appreciated, even when given impolitely and with the intent to ‘put me in my place.’

Despite all of my errors and imperfections, I still stand by my statement: I am a better writer than J.K. Rowling.

Do you know who else is a better writer than her? I could list thousands of them. They’re fanfiction writers. They’re indie authors. They’re other traditional published authors. They are so many other writers that, yes, I do think are stronger writers than JKR. 

And you’re a better writer, too, so long as you wish it.

I sincerely want you to believe that.

Why? Because it’s clear within the Harry Potter series that JKR did not make attempts to grow as a writer. She just wrote. Perhaps she was under deadlines, but the lack of editing is pretty apparent to me. When you write a lot, you will inevitably get more skilled over time, but you have to actively be seeking improvement to see drastic change in your own skill. It is this lack of drive that I see within her work. She’s not making attempts to push the boundaries of her abilities and skills with each new book.

I’m not at the end of my journey of learning. I never will be. I love expanding my skills. I’m even learning during the process of writing these posts, too. I’m seeing more weaknesses in my own work and I’m now thinking on ways to strengthen my writing even further.

That’s the point of this series.

In the end, it’s not really about me. No, really, it’s not about me. I truly think it’s about the jealousy of seeing another writer be confident in their work. You see, I’m not supposed to be confident; I’m not supposed to act like I can help and teach others to write. How dare I. Posting anything about my work is an act of attention seeking. I’m supposed to be ‘humble.’ I’m supposed to be silent. I’m supposed to wave a shy, dismissive hand at compliments.

Why?

Why is being proud of one’s work and loving one’s own work such a controversial idea?

Imposter Syndrome often cripples creators. There’s already so much self doubt and anxiety in the world, but Imposter Syndrome can really wreck with a creator’s mind. It’s a poison. It stops you from creating what you love most. When you believe you aren’t good enough, then it becomes harder to try. Your belief becomes truth to you, whether or not it was true in reality in the first place. Perhaps, you sink into depression. You become anxious about sharing anything, for fear anyone might say even the slightest negative comment. The heart becomes fragile and brittle, and the muscle which builds skill atrophies over time. You see your work through a lens of self hate. You can only see flaws.

“I will never be good enough.”

When you’re in this state of mind, it’s hard to see the truth about your work.

But let me promise you something: your writing is far more beautiful than you realize.

In spirit, all creative writing is perfect to me with all of its typos and mistakes (yes, even all of the Harry Potter books!), but no single work is objectively perfect. There will always be room to improve your creation because you’re constantly growing. It’s why so many aspiring novelists fall into an endless cycle of editing their first few chapters. The more they write, the more they improve; thus, when they go back to their earlier chapters, they get stuck trying to update those chapters instead of pushing forward to the finish line.

Your work is valuable, no matter what. It’s beautiful. You’re allowed to love your work. You’re allowed to see the good in it and you’re allowed to have confidence in yourself. You’re allowed to say to yourself and to others, I’m a damn good writer.

You deserve to have love, for yourself and for your art.

I have often sincerely complimented other writers and, many times, after they respond with their thanks, it becomes clear to me they’re not confident in their work, yet they have still bravely shared it with us.

I’m so proud of them. Thank you for your bravery.

My heart breaks for them, too. They’re such good writers—such damn good writers. And I wish they knew and believed this.

I will always do everything in my power to encourage others.

How do you feel about your writing? Do you like your writing? You should. You really should because it is good. You created it, after all. There will always be space to grow and refine your craft, of course, but you are a good writer now. You’re going to be a better writer tomorrow and the next day, so long as you desire this growth in yourself. There’s no destination, though. There’s no magic level you have to reach before you’re allowed to have some confidence in yourself and your abilities. The only trap to avoid is remaining stagnant. Writing is a skill. Writing is a craft. This means it gets better through study and practice.

You can achieve that.

I know it’s hard, though. There are so many naysayers in life. There are so many people waiting to attack and bring others down, both on the internet and in our own families. How many precious fanfics have been lost because a writer received horrible, hateful comments? How many writers have disappeared from the internet because of this cruelty? We have lost many in all fandoms. That is unacceptable to me.

Uplift others. Spread love, not hate.

You’re allowed to be proud about your work, imperfect as it may be. Please, I beg you, don’t let the negative voices of others—including your own!—drag you down and steal the joy of creating. I know it’s so very, very hard to stand strong against such voices. Words have power, but you have more. Resist the naysayers.

What you have to offer the world is precious. Please lift your head and acknowledge that what you create is good. It’s great. It’s amazing. It’s fucking fantastic. You’re not an imposter nor a fraud. No one can offer what you can to the world. No one can write the stories you have in your head the way you can. Your style is unique to you. You’re allowed to love it as it is now and you’re allowed to love it whatever form it takes in the future.

Imposter Syndrome is a thief; toss it into jail and throw away the key.

My writing is not perfect and it never will be, but I’m a better writer today than I was ten years ago. I’m a seeker of my own growth. I’m often reading books on writing and watching YouTube videos on writing. I absorb it all because writing is my truest love and passion. My style has evolved from reading endless amount of novels and fanfics. I devour both. 

But I wasted a decade thinking I didn’t have what it takes.

And life is short. I can’t waste anymore time.

Don’t be like past Isa, please.

There’s a difference in refinement between an episodic fanfic posted over the course of years and a traditional novel published in whole, but I still stand by my work. I recognize my style will not be enjoyed by all those who read it. It’s okay if you don’t like my style. I’m eternally grateful for the many readers who do love my writing. I’m humbled and honored by the sheer volume of people who have commented, bookmarked, and have left kudos on my work. Thank you.

My style has evolved into what it is today due to a combination of two things.

I have ADHD. It’s why my style uses smaller paragraphs as a whole.

I have aphantasia. I lack a mind that can visualize pictures. I literally cannot see anything in my mind. When people say, “I can picture it in my mind,” that’s not me. I cannot at all. When there’s a lack of description in prose, it feels blank and empty to me. This is why I use vivid descriptions in the way I do because otherwise I feel nothing from my work.

It’s okay if this style doesn’t work for you. I love my style because it caters to what I need. I also love other styles that don’t use as much description; however, I can’t always follow what’s happening because of the wiring of my brain. I can get lost sometimes, but I still appreciate their style because I can’t effectively do what they can.

If you find no value in my style and what I offer in this series here, then that’s okay. I’m not offended. This series is for those who benefit from it. For you, there are so many other writers out there from whom you can learn and I’m more than happy to send you in the direction that benefits you the most.

Here’s a list of YouTubers you might find interesting.

ShaelinWrites has been working on many unpublished projects through the years and has lots of great discussion videos on writing.

Abbie Emmons is a self published author with solid writing advice in all of her videos. 

Alexa Donne is a traditionally published author with great insider information into the traditional publishing world. 

Ellen Brock is a professional editor. She knows her stuff.

I hesitantly suggest Jenna Moreci and her content on YouTube because I think she has some major weaknesses in her writing. Many others have seen this about her books. However, she is a successful indie author and her YouTube content has a lot of value.

Brandon Sanderson has an entire college course in a playlist on his channel. It’s a fabulous free resource if you vibe with his style of writing. Highly recommend. 

Here’s a list of writing books I recommend.

Elements of Fiction Writing, a five book series. My TOP recommendation is Elements of Fiction Writing - Beginnings, Middles & Ends.

Sin and Syntax: How to Craft Wicked Good Prose

Let the Crazy Child Write!: Finding Your Creative Writing Voice

Novelist's Essential Guide to Crafting Scenes

All right then.

Thank you for sticking around. I hope you accept this post in the good faith it was given and was always given in the previous posts. Next post, I’ll be returning to my playful satirical tone. Hehe~!

Please do the world the greatest of favors and write. Create. Share your fanfiction. Become best selling authors, traditional or indie. I promise you’re far more capable and skilled than you realize.

Until next time.

Isa

[adventuringblind]

“My Favorite Sainz”

Carlos Sainz x sister!reader & Charles Leclerc x Sainz!Reader (can be read as platonic or romantic)

Genre: hurt/comfort, angst, fluff

Request: yes! I hope this is what you were thinking! My requests are open so please send your ideas!

Summary: Carlos has a new girlfriend, one who obviously didn’t care much to get to know him. When his sister starts getting bullied by her, it’s time for someone to step in.

Warnings: toxic behavior, bullying, social media being poison

Notes: written in third person. Kinda short compared to my other fics.

Masterlist

She was definitely more private than her brother. All her socials set to private. She only used her last name if it was necessary. So it didn’t shock her that her brothers new girlfriend didn’t know they were related.

Most of the staff around the Ferrari garage knew. Simply because Carlos was so excited when she finally decided to come to the paddock that he introduced her to everyone as “my baby sister,” much to her dismay.

The Leclerc family was instantly warm towards her. She liked teasing both Carlos and Charles. If she wasn’t with Carlos, she was probably with Charles.

When Carlos mentioned he was going on a date with a model, her and Charles teased him. It went on for months until he finally let the two meet her at the paddock during a race weekend.

It was obvious that the woman didn't care much to get to know him. The younger Sainz picked up on the way she practically ignored him when he spoke.

She pointed it out to him a few times but was just dismissed. Thankfully, Charles also saw it and reassured his favorite Sainz that she wasn't crazy.

Carlos simply pointed out that she didn't know her and that since she's a model, she deals with media and interactions differently.

She felt hurt by his words. Why didn't he see what she did?

Then the jealousy started.

Being a sister obviously meant being there for Carlos when things came up. No matter the result, it became routine for her to find him after races and slather him in sibling affection.

Depending on his mood, he’d either bat her away playfully or let console him. It was one of these moments that someone took a picture of. The culprit was Carlos’ girlfriend. She knows because she watched her take a picture with the flash on.

She let it be though. Maybe she thought it was cute.

The reality of what was really going on set in when she woke up that morning to the image circling the internet. Gossip articles claiming Carlos to be a cheater and her to be a slut.

Was it that difficult to want privacy? She wanted to watch her brothers races in peace. Do her job without interference from fans. Now, her want to remain unnoticed was the cause of drama for Carlos.

She tried to keep it to herself. Tried to let it all go because she knew the truth. But the fans were getting out of hand. They’d dug up photos where she appears with other drivers. Charles in particular.

As the words they used got stronger, she found herself struggling with how to cope.

She tried to talk to her brother about, but he’d just said he hadn’t seen anything and not to pay any mind to the haters.

It didn’t surprise Charles to see her at his door the following afternoon. Carlos had called him saying he couldn’t understand what was going on. Charles didn’t really know either. But when he saw the tears in her eyes, he knew it wasn’t good.

“What can I do for my favorite Sainz?”

~

Charles made a mental note that day to talk to Carlos, but he could never find a good opportunity to do so. In the meantime, he tried to help get rid of any rumors sounding the two.

She had bigger things to deal with then fans. Mostly the now very aggressive comments that came from a certain model. She was constantly telling her to back off.

“Can’t you take a hint?”

“I’m his-“

“I don’t care what you are, leave us alone.” She sneered. Again not bothering to listen to what anyone had to say.

Carlos had started noticing that both his sister and friend had been pulling away from him. He wanted to get to the bottom of it. But his girlfriend always placed herself between him and any answers. It was starting to become frustrating for the Spaniard.

~

This weekend she was going to celebrate Carlos’ birthday. He’d planned a large party at his apartment. She knew who was going to be there and almost decided in feigning sickness. She couldn’t do that to her brother, though. She’d just do her best to avoid any sort of spectacle.

When she arrived, the anxiety had already set in. More pictures. More words. More confrontation. She hated what this had done to her.

She takes a deep breath, opens the door, and immediately looks for her brother. He was easy to spot in the sea of bodies. Thankfully he spotted a her as well and pushed past the group to get to her.

He embraced her and planted a kiss to the top of her head. “I’m so happy you’re here! I feel like we haven’t seen each other in forever!”

She lets out an airy laugh. “We just saw each other last week and you said I was the worst sister of all time.”

“You ate my food.”

“You didn’t label it yours.”

The conversation was quick but she was relieved to be on her own again. No sight of anyone sneaking pictures of her or wanting to start anything. She made small talk with a few friends and family members. Then decided a drink was necessary if she was going to get through this party without passing out from the anxiety.

Before she made it to the bar, someone had snagged her wrist. Her body being dragged through people into the hallway. The two now secluded and away from earshot if any of her friends.

“How many times to I have to tell you? Stay away from him.” She could smell the alcohol on the woman’s breathe. She didn’t want there to be a scene. Not tonight.

She looked for a way to escape since words would do nothing. Being pinned to the wall by her shoulders was not helping her options.

~

Charles had arrived a few minutes ago. She had texted him before the party started admitting her nerves. He promised to find her as soon as he got there, but she was nowhere to be found.

Eventually he ran into Carlos. They greeted each other with a hug and a course of happy birthdays from the monegasque.

“Have you seen your sister anywhere?” He asked. His concern for the younger Sainz only growing as he’d yet to see her.

Carlos looked at him in confusion. “I was hoping you would know.”

The two split off to find her. Looking in places where you may have gone to get away.

Charles found himself down a hall that looked relatively quite. Until he heard the slurred words of a familiar female. He peeked around the corner and saw the girl he was looking for being held by the shoulders against the walls. Eyes glazed over like she wasn’t present.

Charles jumps out from around the corner and clears his throat. “There’s my favorite Sainz! I’ve been looking all over for you!”

The model and the monegasque stare at each other as one slowly releases her into the arms of the other. Carlos peaks around the corner in confusion. Not understanding why his sister was shaking, his girlfriend looked like she might punch Charles, and Charles looks like he’s going to run away with his sister.

“I’m so tired of this!” The mode, finally scream out. Loud enough for anyone nearby to stop what they’re doing. “Did you marry her or something now too?!”

Carlos deadpans and Charles starts laughing. The model only continues her monologue. “She’s a slut and want all your attention all the time, Carlos!”

Now they’ve switched. Carlos looks like he might punch the wall and Charles expression immediately deadpans.

“Get out.” Carlos spits. His voice firm and determined.

“What?-“

“I see what’s been going on now. Nobody gets to disrespect my family.”

“Your sister?”

The model begins fumbling around in confusion and embarrassment. Not knowing how not understanding what anyone was trying to tell her. Someone made sure she was escorted out.

Carlos thanked Charles for stepping in and helping his little sister. She smiled at her brother. “Never doubted you for a second.” She chuckles.

After she is in the safety of her own home, she sighs heavily. Charles had brought her up and walked her inside to make sure she was ok after everything that happened.

She almost tackled him with her surprise hug and muttered a ‘thank you’ into his chest.

He embraced her back. Whispering “of course, anything for my favorite Sainz.”

[wonderlandwalker]

Soon and Sooner | Finnick Odair x Reader

THG Masterlist / Inbox

Summary: Finnick makes his way back to you after the arena separated the two of you last night. He is worried about your safety in a place as cruel as this, but he knows in his heart he'll see you soon again. Turns out it wasn't exactly the reunion he had hoped for.

Content Warnings / Tags: Angst, violence, blood, wounds, mentions of death, hurt with no comfort, no use of y/n

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: I don't know how to write long fics I'm sorry, but enjoy this piece of heartbreak that's been stuck in my head xx

Whether or not today was a good day depends on at what point of that day you asked. Finnick was alone, as alone as someone can be in the arena. He wonders at which point a greater plan is at work, and at which point it's a coincidence, but the more he thinks about it, the less he wants to. Maybe you had been separated on purpose, singling everyone out for a carefully curated show, maybe this was simply how things were meant to be. It doesn't matter either way, he tells himself, because he'll find his way back to you soon enough

The leaves rustled around him, and if he had been home the melody would have calmed him, but not here. It wasn't relaxing in the same way a breeze is on a summer day by the lakes, not serene any longer. In the arena it only put him on the edge further, dangerously close to the edge. He had last seen you yesterday, having no choice but to go in opposite directions. But that wasn't what worried him, because he knows how to find his way back, recalls the direction of the rendezvous you were probably waiting at already, all he had to do was get there too.

So he went on, only taking small breaks to refill his water, check his surroundings, make sure he would live to be with you once more. As the day passed and he got closer to his destination, he found himself growing negligent, deciding to worry later about the cut on his leg from the thick branches, not bothering to thread carefully over the ground anymore. He was growing restless, desperate.

It didn't take long for Finnick before he could already see the beach coming closer, determination carrying him far. With every step closer he couldn't deny his growing worry, his worry for you. He knew for sure you had survived the attack yesterday, your picture had not been shown in the sky and he had felt relieved, but this morning there was  a cannon, and he had no idea who that belonged to. He thinks he would know, somehow, if it had been you, that his heart was so irrevocably tied to yours he would have felt the string being cut, but that doesn't stop him from wondering, what if it had been you. What if you had been left with a fatal wound that claimed your life after hours of agony, what if there had been another attack, what if-. No, he would know, and he knows he'll see you again soon, so he continues on.

As he turned through the clearing, he could see you standing there, laughing at some joke Johanna had made. The two of you had always had a soft spot for each other, finding family in even the most dire of circumstances. As he finally saw you, the band around his heart released, no longer being tugged at with every step he took. As he finally got closer to you, he called out for you, knowing you’d reach out for him with the same amount of vigor. As he finally reached out for you, so close to having you in his arms once more, he was lost in the sight of you turning around, beaming at him, only for your expression to drop faster than his heart could. He hadn’t even seen it, hadn’t even thought about it, his sole focus on finding you. If he had paid more attention he might have remembered that he was not alone in this arena, that there were people here hunting you, that he was sharing delicate secrets by shouting them loudly, his mind too clouded by its current storm to even begin predicting the next.

He blinked once, twice, but your eyes were wide, no hesitation as you rushed forward. His mind tricking him with a false narrative of ease in a moment where he should have known better. You rushed for him, and he expected the sweet relief of holding you in his arms, but all you did was reach for his shoulders, spinning him around and out of the path of the tribute he could now see retreating back into the forest. He should have known better than to get lost in the euphoria of your presence, you’d always lecture him for it, ranting about how you’re not worth dying for. As he looked back over to you, expecting you to tell him exactly that and kiss him when he’d promise not to do it again, he wasn't smiling anymore either. His bubble shattered into pieces like the sand he was standing on, joining it in hopes that never came to be.

It was as if you hadn't blocked the hit at all, as if the dagger had found its way into his heart regardless. At first he didn't even see it, too caught up in the look of pain on your face, too determined to fix it for you, but he looked down to see he had assigned himself an impossible task.

He felt like a statue, ever forced to watch the violence of mankind without means of intervering. He wanted to envelop you in his arms and whisper assurances to you, but he was too scared that his white lies would be too crimson from the blood that was dripping down onto the beach. The beach, a place that held so many memories of the both of you, now forever stained by this single day.

Simple seconds ticked by, time he once thanked, betraying him. You dropped to the ground like a wave collapsing in on itself, holding a power too great that must now be returned. And the moment it did, the second your now limp body hit the sand beneath you, finding its final destination, he screamed once more. Maybe it was the shock being forced to wear off too soon, maybe it was the denial he didn't want to leave, but the sight before his own eyes was one he could no longer ignore.

He rushed for you, sliding onto his knees as he reached for you, shouting in agony for you to stand back up, to smile at him and cup his jaw like you always did when he was worried. He yelled at those around him, the people he called his friends, doing nothing to save you. And if he had been paying more attention, he would have heard the cannon just like them, would have heard the sound signaling it no longer mattered, because you were already gone. If he had been level headed he would have known that he was only attracted more attention from the other tributes out there, not that it would have mattered, he would have gladly stayed here for them to kill him, maybe he would have even wished for it, because his world would forever be incomplete without you. He would spend eternity searching for you even if he knew it was fruitless, because to him, you were absolutely worth dying for. Not that you’d let him, you would have never let him, you would lay down your own life before letting him sacrifice his, but he could do without the cruel reminder. 

Yes, he should have realized it was too late, but he couldn't, he couldn't hear anything other than the ringing in his ears from how loud he was screaming for you, desperate for you to comfort him, already longing to feel your fingers sifting through his hair, the one thing that calmed him down when nothing else could. He could feel someone reaching out to him, and he wished they were here to let him join you, wondering if you’d ever forgive him if he indulged the thought. But the touch didn’t bring relief, it was simply another painful truth trying to pull him into a now worthless world. 

He could hear them now, hear them talking about having to move, about getting him to move, it only made him cling to you harder. He could no longer feel your muscles confulsing in slight twitches against his fingers, the stillness was unsettling, but he wouldnt dare let go.

If only he could see the rose flush disappearing from your cheeks, the glimmer in your eyes fading to join the others amongst the stars, here you were, finally in his arms again, but he didn’t enjoy the feeling like he thought he would, here you were, reunited yet never having been able to say hello, never even being able to say goodbye. He wonders if he shouldn't have stopped to drink water from the stream he had passed, thinks about how he could have walked faster, not worried about a time limit he hadn’t even known existed, he ponders the possibilities from each and every second that had separated the two of you, every breath he took without you and every breath he’ll take longing for you now, wishing you’d be there to take it from him. Every step he took and every step he’ll be taking wishing you were at the end of it. 

He had been so sure he would see you soon, that you were still here because he could simply feel it, this time he felt it. He felt the connection being severed, and would spend the rest of his life holding on to his end of it. Would wonder for eternity what would happen if he'd only gotten here sooner.