#might make a bloody edit idk yet

[lvlyghost]

I LOVE YOUR WRITINGS SO MUCH 😩❤️😍 the way you characterize ghost is so good I can't 😭❤️ I wanted to ask if you could maybe write something for me since your writing style is sooo good frfr

How about ghost and reader have an argument that was started by ghost and he goes a bit too far breaking the reader and making them cry and be just a shell of themselves how would he feel when he sees the readers state and how would he fix it with a happy end please

Broken Wings

Pairings: Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

Summary: After a night out, things seem to take a turn in your relationship with Ghost.

Word Count: 2.1k

Tw: angst, hurt/comfort, self doubt, jealousy, probably ooc!simon, curse words. lots of grammar mistakes, poorly edited you know the drill🐝

A/N: i loved this request sooo much, though i did have a lot of trouble when writing it since i wasn't feeling too inspired. also had two different stories but ended up deciding to post this one i might post the other one idk, hope you like this anon! I did try my best🫶🏻🤍🩷✨corrections are appreciated; remember english isn't my native language 🐸

Masterlist✨

"I like you." You said with big bright eyes.

"But no one can know about this. Just you and I. That's enough." He answered, hand tracing the side of your face.

You blink rapidly. You have always been daydreamer. It caused you tons of problems although you tried to do your best when you were out on missions. Ghost is walking ahead of you, boots sinking in the sand beneath your feet. The waves crashing on the shore is something you like listening to and seeing too but under different circumstances. Both of your gear clink with every step you take, it's the only sound as well as the sea that swallows the tense silence that falls between the two.

Things have been rather... strange since two days ago and you've tried to talk to him about it. It wasn't weird for Ghost to push you back every now and then, he was a complicated person and you couldn't be more different from one another.

You were the sun and he was the darkness that came at night or so he had said one night at the common room back at the compound. He was stoic, grumpy and hardly found himself enjoying somebody's company. You on the other hand, even though you wouldn't consider yourself the most outgoing person like Johnny, still you liked talking unlike him. You loved going out with the task force. And most importantly you loved when Ghost joined because you loved him, you loved having him around, despite his gruff responses or annoyed looks.

You jog though your legs shake and tiredness sets in your body.

"How much farther until we get there?" You ask, ignoring the fact that his frame goes rigid when you speak . He doesn't acknowledge you at first. All you hear is a small sigh leaving his lips. You kind of wish he wasn't wearing the damn sunglasses so you could see his eyes.

They always said a lot.

"Thirty minutes. Give or take." The answer is short and cold, breaking your heart a little more than before. Still, you decide to try again.

"Sir, is something bothering you?" Before he can stop it he scoffs, shaking his head. "What?" Brows furrowing on your features. "Simon..."

He stops all of the sudden, turning to face you with a tense stance.

"First of all don't bloody use my name out here. Secondly it's your own fault we've been walking for hours. So don't go asking if something's bothering me, Sergeant."

Taking a step back you open your mouth.

"My fault? I was doing my job!"

"Didn't know your job was to get your fucking head blown off!!" He seethes. "Fucking hell you can't be this reckless and expect me to clap at your poor acting on the field." Your heart begins to race, he had never said such things to you. Taking a small step back your grit your teeth, you hated that his words were making your eyes blurry. This was the Simon you never wanted to see. And yet there he was. "Now we lost the damn intel thanks to you." He spits. But something isn't adding up.

"It's not just that. You've been acting strange for a few days now, Ghost. Don't come and tell me it's just because I did what I was supposed to do!" He stiffs yet again. Jaw clenching so hard you fear he might break it. "Not missing the way you avoid me ever since..." you close your mouth shut. "The pub..." he shifts his weight from one foot to another. The waves are increasing and now reach your feet, dampening your boots. And then you remember him storming off the local pub before he even finished his own drink. Everyone had heard the hard slap to John's arm when he had tried to calm him down. God why didn't you pay more attention to that moment? Because you both had agreed to keep your distances? And going after him was out of discussion? Then the next day you'd barely seen him, just for a short moment during debriefs and that was it. The moment you had gotten up from your seat he was gone. And today you were supposed to go to a special op that had soon become a problem that eventually led to the two of you in the middle of a beach, it was a cloudy day and if it weren't for the heavy layers you wore you're certain you'd be shaking. Sometimes –and you were ashamed of it– you were oblivious to many things and it seemed that Ghost's anger toward you was one of them this time. "What happened?"

He inhales deeply.

"It's over. That's what happened."

Your heart sinks and you swallow hard. Your whole body loses color when he mutters those two words. Out of all the things, all the possibilities you thought he'd say to you, he decided to end everything. Shaking your head you try to touch his hand but he doesn't let you.

"Ghost where is all of this coming from I don't understand!" You choke out. "We were fine..."

"No. You were fine. If I wasn't enough you should've just said so."

"Stop... you... what the hell are you talking about???"

"Nothing that matters anymore. Keep walking and don't say another word. That's an order."

He turns and keeps walking as if nothing just happened. As if he didn't just completely broke your heart.

'You were fine'.

What was that supposed to mean? You think, walking a few meters behind him, scared to even say anything else; to even try to grab him by the arm and force him to talk. It would only make things worse right now.

By the time you reach the safe house it's started to rain the silence between the two is deafening and tense. Ghost's cold demeanor and hurtful words have left a scar. Never in a million years would you think you'd be here, with a broken, shattered heart and no explanation from his part.

Words that pierced through your soul.

That day something died inside you. And he was the reason.

-

Two weeks, three days and seven hours.

That's the time that's passed since that day at the beach. Two weeks since Simon broke you and gave you no reasons.

You're a disaster.

You barely eat or get any sleep. There's dark circles under your eyes and you're sure you've lost some weight too. Ghost has been gone on a mission alone with Johnny for a week now, which left you with a lot of spare time to think about the two of you.

More tears stream down your face when you remember that day. Had you missed something important? Was Ghost's mind somewhere dark? Somewhere it shouldn't be? God knows he was... difficult to say the least. But every single time you tried, tried to be there for him. Did those late nights at your home meant nothing? Had he not seen the way you looked at him? Had you not shown him enough of your affection? Everything you'd do for him if he simply asked?

Getting up from your bed you get ready for another day. Not bothering to lace your boots just shoving them inside your shoes you walk down the hallways until you get to the training room. Gaz is talking to John in the far corner, the Captain's arms are crossed over his chest while Kyle frowns and shakes his head. You don't to even go and salute them as you normally would do, instead you put your earphones on and hit the treadmill.

It doesn't last long though; after one minute someone stops it by pressing down the off button. Your brows knitted together as you stop, turning to look up at Gaz who smiles politely.

"Sorry for that, sweetheart. You okay?" You nod, but say nothing more. "Come here." He pats your shoulder and helps you down from the treadmill. If you could smile now you would. But no even the faintest, softest grin leaves your lips. Gaz takes a quick glimpse at your face and rubs the back of his neck. "You know, Soap and Ghost just got back. Heard Lt. was asking about you."

"Oh." You murmur. "Okay." You don't move nor dare to meet his eyes. "I'll just head back to my room."

"Uhmm. I- what I meant is he's looking for you..." Shaking your head you walk away, not having the energy to face Simon right now. And why did he need to see you? Made pretty clear that you two were done, therefore was no need to see each other unless it was work related.

-

"You really do like it here don't you." Your body goes rigid. This was supposed to be your safe place. The roof of the armory was rarely visited by anyone at this hour. Simon's voice seems softer than ever before but you don't answer. Not even turn to acknowledge him. You hear muttered words and then he crouches down to your level. "Price said you're not eating. Do we have to send you to the military counselor now?" How dare he? After all he caused this. You know he doesn't mean it in bad way, somehow he cares for you deep down. Your hands ball into fists, fighting the urge to snap at him, to push him down and just break him the way he broke you. But you don't because you still love him, and could never bring yourself to hurt him. Simon is staring intently at you, waiting, hoping for any sign. He knows he shouldn't be here. Bloody hell he knows you shouldn't even look his way never again. He deserves it. Every bit of it. "Talk to me, love. Please." It's a low whisper. A plea.

"What do you want Ghost?" You ask softly. Simon leans closer, sitting down with his legs propped up against his chest and arms resting on his knees. It's a funny look for someone his size.

"Jus' wanted to see you." You scoff playing with your hands, refusing to lock eyes with him because if you did you'd be done. "Wanted to explain..."

"Then just do it!" You sob. Your lower lip trembles. "And then leave."

"Fine." He agrees. "But I'm not leaving. I- I made a mistake, and took it out on you okay? I was scared."

"Scared?" Your head snaps to where he is sitting. It's painful just to look at him. "Why would you be scared Ghost?" You retaliate

He grumbles, never fancied when you called him that when you were alone. Quite the contradiction given the fact that he told you not to call him his name that day at the beach.

"Because I saw you." He points out. "That night. Everything you're missing for being with someone like me. Can't even show proper affection because it's not me... and you deserve more than that. More than me."

"Ghost..."

"No. Lemme finish, love." He swallows. It's always amusing how controlled he seems. "I lost it, yeah? You looked so happy. How on earth do I deserve you, on what universe do I deserve ya'?"

Sucking in a sharp breath you recall the moments that preceded the events. The sound of music blasting through the speakers, when you joined the rest of the soldiers on the other side of the pub. Private Miller had slung his arm over your shoulders in a friendly manner. You laughed and drank too much that night, it was joyful. Everyone was there, your team. You never thought he felt that way about it.

"Oh my... Simon." You cover your mouth and cry silently. He hesitated for a moment before pulling you close and into his lap. "Should've known something was wrong. Forgive me... I should've stayed with you, follow you after you left." You cry out.

You were scared too, for very different reasons. That he'd get tired of you eventually, that if you weren't cautious enough your secret would be known. Both would get suspended thus separated and discharged.

"No, love. You shouldn't have to go running after me. I should be running after you. Now forgive me, say you will. Or else I might just lose myself for good." You cradle his face in your hands lifting the balaclava just above the bridge of his nose. Thumb tracing his lower lip. Your tears have dried.

"I've missed you so much, Simon. All you gotta do is talk to me, always." He tightens his grip around you. "You think Price would let us go home tonight and not ask questions?"

His chuckle is short and soft.

"Yeah. I think he's known for a while now."

[storiesoflilies]

Of Angels and Curses

Synopsis - In a world where Angels and Curses are locked in a never ending war, an unsuspecting seraph becomes entangled with the very thing she is fated to eradicate.

Pairings - Curse!Toji Fushiguro x f!Angel!Reader. Curse!Ryomen Sukuna x Reader. Angel!Satoru Gojo x Reader.

Warnings - Descriptions of violence and injuries, eventual smut. Cannibalism(?) (idk it’s Curses eating each other), violence of war. Toji being a lil spicy ;)

A/N - Apologies for the delays with this one! The edits for Chapter 6 and 7 really took it out of me (if you haven’t re-read them yet, then I highly recommend you do!) Anyways, enjoy this chapter! Ko-Fi.

-•-

Chapter 8

It was frightening how easily Y/N slipped back into the dance of war.

But then again, it was second nature to her; a tune to a song that had been sung for a thousand years. It was etched into her very being, she’d heard the words sung from inside her mother’s womb, felt its resonance the moment she was born, and sung it herself when she descended to Earth from Heaven. No Angel, from the dawn of time, had ever escaped the call of this haunting song.

However, the song had a far different tune in Hell than it did anywhere else.

Battles won on Earth had been marvelous victories, where just a bit more sin had been cleansed from the world. But here in Hell, sin multiplied tenfold, especially after a battle was won. Y/N didn’t know why every victory she won felt like a loss. Perhaps it was the sight of her own soldiers feasting on the corpses of the dead, both enemies and comrades, their greed knowing no bounds as black blood gushed forth to make the ground muddy. Perhaps it was the fact she took no prisoners of war, leaving none alive because the severity of torture they would face would be a waste of her soldiers time. Or perhaps it was the persistent feeling that, despite every victory, the end was nowhere near in sight.

Naoya and Jogo’s soldiers proved relentless, pounding against Geto’s borders without pause.

Again.

And again.

And again…

Y/N hadn’t slept in seven days, and how could she? There was no time, and it was far too dangerous to sleep. She hadn’t seen Geto for nearly a month; any and all correspondence was done via Suda, who never rested either as she relayed messages between all Geto’s different battalions throughout Hell. While her brother fought more offensively, assembling his most savage and strongest Curses to directly attack Jogo and Naoya within their own borders, Y/N was charged with defending their own lands. Their enemies could instantaneously appear in the hundreds – if not, tens of hundreds – across various locations.

For this reason, Sukuna’s ring of teleportation had been particularly invaluable for her defense.

It was eerie, almost as if the King of Hell had somehow predicted the war and their strategies. Y/N had been reluctant to even put the ring on, but as soon as she did, sliding it on the exact same finger as Toji wore his, it had shrunk and hugged to the exact size of her finger. She told herself it was a necessity, as there was no way she would have worn it otherwise. Y/N often wondered what Sukuna thought of all this, if he even cared that his Curses were busy slaughtering each other instead of the seraphim. But this wasn’t the first war of Hell, and she guessed that if he hadn’t intervened previously, then it was unlikely he would care now.

Despite when Geto had claimed, even challenged, that this would be the most bloody and violent war that Hell had ever seen.

Y/N often found herself lost in thoughts of what might have been. Amidst the seemingly endless time loop of a fight, her body moved with pure instinct in the dance of death. She didn’t need to use her mind to fight, and so it often wandered to a future that didn’t exist – one where she had become Gojo’s wife, fighting alongside him against the Curses she now fought beside. That would have been a holy and noble war, enacting God’s justice against those that turned against his light. Sometimes, Y/N glanced at her fellow soldiers, and wondered if she would have been forced to kill them in a world where she remained an Angel. A world where Satoru loved her, and she returned it equally. So strong was her daydream that her old soul almost took over, and time seemed to slow as her blade hovered dangerously close to her own soldier’s neck.

Until its maw opened unnaturally wide, and its razor-sharp teeth buried into an enemy Curse’s head. Y/N pulled back sharply, her mind and soul snapping back place as her body recoiled.

How had she not noticed her foe approach her? She would have been deep within its clutches if not for her fellow Curse, whom she had almost contemplated killing.

She cracked her neck with an audible pop and rotated her wrists, feeling the tension release with each twist, and nodded at the Curse who had saved her. It stared at her expectantly like a lost child, haunting vulnerability in its eyes, pink flesh dangling in shredded ribbons between its stained fangs. In one swift motion, Y/N swung her katanas in her hands, and her companion startled out of their momentary trance, returning to the savage dance of the battle around them.

There was something so beautiful about that moment, but Y/N couldn’t place her finger on it.

She wanted to chase that feeling.

If this war was to be so vicious, then Y/N embrace it all and return it tenfold. She readied her body to dance as her soldiers rallied around, completely surrounding her. The notion might have once frightened her, but not anymore. There was nothing to fear, only death and the beautiful song of war.

And then, hellfire started to rain from the sky.

Jogo…

Now this, is what the end is supposed to look like.

“Y/N!”

Miguel’s familiar voice shouted from a distance, causing Y/N to swiftly turn in its direction. In an instant, he was next to her. “Y/N! Suda has just informed me; Geto has begun the siege on the Zenins!”

Her eyes narrowed. “So Jogo sends his soldiers here. He thinks we cannot fend him off with only half an army.”

She surveyed her own force, rapidly formulating strategies in her mind. It was unclear how many Jogo had sent to the border, but one of the Curses was definitely one of his higher-ups, judging by the hellfire. Y/N doubted Jogo himself had come, not yet anyways. Suddenly, a blast of fire erupted outside her circle as a droplet landed beside them, and a Curse screeched in agony.

“Find Curses to form a barrier above us,” Y/N said urgently, shielding her head as another bout of fire erupted near her. “We cannot defend ourselves with this.”

Miguel nodded, sweat beading on his forehead. “And you? Do you need more soldiers?”

She looked at the Curses surrounding her, their gnashing teeth and pounding legs thumping the ground, as if they were her hellhounds eager to be off their leash. Y/N shook her head. “No, these are all I need. Send more to protect the supply outposts. We cannot afford to lose another.”

Miguel nodded and disappeared, leaving Y/N to take charge. She roughly dragged a Curse from the circle closer to her, then placed a hand gently on its head, as if seeking to make amends. She whispered softly, her voice like a soothing prayer that she found Curses responded well to. "Go and find me the one responsible for the hellfire.”

The Curse blabbered nonsense, its cloven feet stomping into the dirt, before speeding off into the fray, barreling into enemies and swinging them into the air with reckless abandon. Y/N raised her katanas over her head and launched herself against their foes. Her soldiers followed closely behind, swept up in the fervor of her charge. Y/N was the relentless tide crashing against the shoreline, the herald of a catastrophic tsunami that would engulf them all.

It was some time before her hoofed Curse returned, it’s battered and bloodied form charging towards her. With a powerful thrust, it impaled into an enemy Curse that Y/N had suspended high into the air with her katanas. The Curse snarled and spat, but she knew to follow its lead. And through the maze of death and corpses it led her, a twisted beacon amidst the darkness and chaos.

Straight towards Jogo’s second in command.

Hanami.

For a split second, Y/N was gripped by sadness. Why had fate forced them to cross paths? Yet, it seemed inevitable; the two generals of the Kings must be the destined to confront each other. Why did God make such things come to pass? Hanami was innocent, a Curse born from the fear of Gods own nature that he himself had created. What was there truly to fear? Hanami embodied nature’s beauty as much as much as its cruelty. Thorns and vines coiled around Y/N’s soldiers, ruthlessly tearing them apart, but she couldn’t shake the memory of her fever dream. The voice that had condemned her to be scratched into pieces. Was it actually a vision from this very moment? Was Hanami to be the orchestrator of her demise, strumming the strings of her death like a harp?

Y/N thought it was what she deserved, to be killed by God’s nature from which she had turned her back.

Hanami seemed to finally notice her, releasing the soldiers entangled within her thorns and spreading out her arms as if welcoming Y/N home. She wanted to cry; both with homesickness and with the sickly sin she was about to commit. For she had no intention of dying, even if it was what she deserved. Yet, tears slipped from her eyes regardless.

“Why do you cry?”

It was Hanami’s voice in Y/N’s head, and it startled her. All the Curses around them had turned to fight each other, paving a makeshift pathway directly between the two of them.

“Do you cry for yourself? For your mate who shall surely grieve you?”

“No, I cry for you.”

“For me? You don’t know me.”

“And I never will, but I would have liked to.”

“I have been charged with your death, and I will not fail as Mahito did. If you must know me, then know this. I do not hate you, I only seek a world where my nature can thrive. You and your brother stand in the way of that.”

How cruel, God why must you do this to me – to her? She would have been a wonderful Angel.

“We should have been on the same side then, because I don’t hate you either.”

With that, they launched themselves at each other through the garden of thorns and ruby roses. Each step brought forth a flurry of petals, swirling around them like a tempest. Y/N's blades sliced through the flowers and roots, yet Hanami countered her with a strength and speed that seemed to match the blooming growth around them.

They collided in a chaotic tangle of petals and gleaming metal, the air thick with the sickening scent of blood and blossoms. The behemoth Curse’s vines and thorns twisted and writhed, entangling Y/N in a deadly embrace, and the ground beneath them trembled with the force of her strikes against the roots. The air crackled with raw energy, as victory remained shrouded in a misty cloud. Through their bond, Y/N felt Toji’s essence urging her on desperately, and she clenched her jaw in determination.

This would end, one way or the other.

-•-

She trudged through from the portal with a slight limp, dragging the full weight of Hanami’s body behind her.

Y/N hated how this was so undignified for Hanami. She deserved a proper burial, or at least a smiting, but Y/N had no more divine energy to spare for that, and Curses would never bury their enemies. This was the way it had to be done, what was expected of her. The village she had teleported to was one of the largest at the border, serving as Y/N’s base to travel between. As the Curses around her stared, taking in the lifeless body of Jogo’s general, they erupted into frantic joy. Y/N was too tired for it, too saddened by what she had done, to find any enjoyment in hearing chants and cheers of her name in reverence.

Her bones ached, and her eyes felt as dry as sand. Y/N knew she needed to sleep, but she could hardly bring herself to do it. Every time she closed her eyes, she was haunted by that nightmarish red color, and a phantom pain bloomed over her face where Mahito had touched her. To sleep felt like a death sentence now, and it was beyond infuriating that their enemies had stolen her very basic right to rest and sleep.

On top of that, Y/N missed Toji fiercely.

The exhausted part of Y/N wished she had taken him up on his offer, because then she would have been at peace and safe. But the rational part of her would never allow it, standing firmly in her resolve not to run away from this war. But still, Y/N felt as if their bond had shifted to something more… intense. It was as crippling as it was exhilarating.

Suda and Miguel were waiting for her outside an old stone house that once belonged to a local villager, but now served as her own personal quarters. Miguel looked exhausted, but still kept up his cool demeanor in front of Suda, whose eyes widened into saucers as she took in Hanami’s body.

Y/N finally stopped dragging the body and let go, and it thumped loudly as it hit the ground. “Bring her head to my brother,” she instructed, making it clear that she would not be maiming any corpses herself.

Suda grimaced further, lip curling in disgust. “Anything else?”

“Tell him not to worry about us, and to focus on the siege. Just let us know when he needs supplies so we can send a group to transport it quickly.”

Suda nodded and looked at Miguel for support, who began to drag Hanami away from Y/N. With a sigh, Y/N pushed open the door, stumbling through and hoping nobody saw her. Hanami’s thorns had cut through parts of her armor, creating deep welts that throbbed and bled. One of the vines had gripped Y/N’s ankle so tightly that it was a struggle to walk straight. She knew she needed to sleep; it would help heal her wounds, and probably her ankle. But the sheer amount of obsidian blood covering her body, red rose petals clinging to it like feathers in tar, was a reminder that sleep was out of reach.

Y/N knelt at the edge of the bed, clasping her hands together as her knees scraped harshly against the floor. Prayer kept her from falling asleep, and from staying awake, fearing an assassin lurking in the night. And in some strange way, she felt as if God was still listening, even all the way down in the depths of Hell.

“Dear God in Heaven,

I ask that you deliver me from this darkness.

Help me cleanse this sin, and bring forth light an-”

“What are you doing?”

She’d never sprung into action so fast in her life. Her body acted on pure instinct, all speed and rage as she crashed directly into the bulky form of the stranger in her room. It was unnerving, frightening, that Y/N hadn’t heard anything approaching her, especially after swearing to herself that nothing was going to sneak up on her again. Her attacker grunted in surprise, and they wrestled for just a moment until Y/N registered Toji’s bright green eyes and familiar shaggy black locks. She had him pinned to the floor, her forearm pressing deep into his neck, and her dagger delicately close to his temple. He was breathing hard, nostrils flared in alarm, and tense.

“It’s me,” Toji whispered, with just a hint of panic in his eyes. “It’s just me.”

Y/N groaned, her head hanging low as her heart pounded, as if it took great effort for the muscle to pump anymore adrenaline through her veins. “I-uh, sorry.”

He tentatively rubbed her arm, the metal still pressing uncomfortably hard into his neck. “S’ok, you want to let go now?”

She awkwardly rushed to get off of him, and extended her hand for Toji to take. He accepted it and pulled himself up, his intense gaze weighing and sizing her up.

“When’s the last time you slept?” he asked gently, still hesitant, as if she was going to attack him for the slightest thing.

“Tch! It doesn’t matter,” Y/N muttered, moving over to the edge of the bed and sitting in a slump.

“It matters,” Toji started, and she could feel the beginning of a lecture coming on. “When you can’t even hear someone approach you. Why don’t you just sleep?”

“You know why. Just leave it.”

He moved over towards her, sitting beside her, his spread knees touching hers. “You still pray,” he stated, more of an observation than a question.

“Yes,” Y/N replied, the exhaustion creeping back into her voice as the adrenaline left her body. “It helps. It keeps me awake and stops me from thinking.”

“About?”

Flashes of pain.

Burning blood and bones.

Foggy visions of something seen long ago, but never to be remembered.

Y/N cracked her neck suddenly, feeling her bones crunching. “Mahito, I suppose. And Geto fighting so far away.” Toji hummed, and she suddenly felt quite nervous. “You’re not going to… judge me for this, are you?”

He quirked an eyebrow at her. “For praying?”

“Yes.”

“It’s something you do alone, and if it helps, then why stop? It has nothing to do with me, so I’m not going to judge.”

For some bizarre reason, the anxiety and tension she had been holding in her chest dissipated, and Y/N sniffed as she wiped her nose.

“Thank you,” Y/N whispered, voice cracking.

Toji looked at her strangely and said in a low rumble. “There’s no need for that. I told you before that I don’t care about Fallen or Angel customs.” He looked away shyly and added, “I just want you to be well.”

She blew out a deep breath and slumped back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. “I will be when this war is over.”

He slowly joined her, their shoulders and knees touching. “And how’s it going? I heard Geto has started a siege on my old home.”

“Oh, yes he has. Mei-Mei?”

“Her crows are everywhere.”

“Even here?”

“Especially here.”

“If you want to see me, then you should just do that. No need to spy, Toji.”

“I’m not spying, just… keeping an eye on you.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

Toji looked over and gave her a pointed look. “Of course I do.” He looked back at the ceiling and huffed quietly. “Stupid thing to say.”

Y/N snorted, perhaps due to her exhaustion, but also partly due to a giddy nervous part of her soul that came out when Toji was around. She couldn’t help herself, and erupted into a fit of giggles. He looked over at her in amusement, and chuckled lowly along with her. They eventually settled into a comfortable silence, with her head slightly tilted towards Toji’s. Suddenly, he took her hand in his, observing her bloodstained nails and thorn cuts.

Displeasure…

“I killed Hanami,” Y/N confessed, as if bursting forth a deep secret she couldn’t withhold anymore.

Toji nodded, his fingers tracing the lines of her hands. “Good. It will take Jogo some time to re-organize his forces.”

She hummed, quiet tears spilling from her eyes onto her cheeks. “I suppose so, yes.”

He looked at her with concern deep in his emerald orbs, and gripped her hand tighter. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know, I just… really didn’t want to kill her.”

“Why’s that?”

Y/N didn’t really know herself, and so it took her some time before she could finally come up with somewhat of an answer. “She was part of nature. It felt like killing an Angel.”

Toji was moving each of her fingers back and forth. “Hanami was no seraph. You should have heard the things she’s done to Angels.”

“I’m sure it’s not much different to what Angels have done to us.”

“Do you not think you could do it, then? If you ascended and came across a seraph.”

No.

Y/N didn’t need to say it aloud; Toji knew her answer from her soul speaking volumes through the bond. They lay together in hushed stillness, interrupted only by Toji curling her fingers into a closed fist. His hand covered hers, offering silent reassurance.

“You need to sleep,” he finally said gently.

“I know, but I can’t.”

“I’ll stay with you, then.”

“Won’t you get tired?”

“Pft! No.”

“Toji, are you sure?”

“Don’t you worry your pretty head about it. Just sleep, nothin’ll get past me.”

Y/N smiled softly at him, and moved up higher onto the bed, not caring about dirtying the sheets with the stains of battle. Toji stood and pulled over a chair closer to the bed, spreading his legs out and crossing his arms. The flickering candlelight cast a shadow on his chiseled features, adding to his alluring enigma, and she wanted to keep discovering everything about him. His gaze darkened, and she knew that he could sense her desire trickling into the bond like a gentle rain.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Y/N huffed, burying her face into her pillow.

“Like what? I’m supposed to be watching you.”

“Yeah, but not like that.”

“What do you want me to do, stare at the ceiling?”

“No…”

Y/N heard the chair scrape even closer to the bed, and she peeked out from the pillow to see Toji resting his upper body on the bed while still remaining seated on the chair. He nestled his head on his crossed arms, alarmingly close to her face, and closed his eyes.

“Better?” he quipped.

“Mhm.”

“Good, now sleep.”

-•-

Toji’s hair was the first thing Y/N saw when she woke.

The top of his head was directly in front of her, black curtains spilling onto the bed. His arm extended out, as reaching out to try and touch her. He seemed like he was asleep, but Y/N knew he probably wasn’t. This was the most peaceful she had ever seen Toji look, and she would be lying if she said she didn’t find him alluring. She reached over and softly stroked his hair, and Toji groaned softly.

“You slept well,” he grunted, pushing his head closer to her and leaning into her touch.

Y/N hummed, twirling strands of his hair between her fingers. He moved his head, resting his chin on his arms, green eyes trained watching her toy with his hair.

“What is it?” she whispered.

“You’re beautiful,” Toji remarked, a smirk playing on his lips. She smiled widely, humming again, but more shyly. He took her hand that was playing with his hair and pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles, igniting a wildfire deep within her.

More…

His green eyes blazed with emerald flames, and he pressed featherlight kisses along each of her fingers. Her breath hitched; nothing else in the world felt real anymore, except the sensation of his lips on her skin.

One.

Two.

“Did you dream of anything?” Toji rumbled, rubbing his cheek into Y/N’s fingers.

Three, four…

She shook her head, looking at him with eyes wide and pupils blown. “No, nothing at all.”

Five.

He moved to her other hand, and Y/N wondered just how far she would let him take her.

One, two.

“So, you want me to stay with you every night?”

Three.

“You couldn’t do that.”

“That’s not what I asked. I asked if you wanted me to.”

Four.

“Of course I do, bu-.”

“Shh! Then that’s what I’ll do.”

Five.

His hands enveloped hers, rubbing them tenderly.

“Toji!”

“What?”

“Toji, you can’t do this every night! And I don’t expect you to either.”

“Y/N, if it means you’re safe and sleeping well, then I’ll do it.”

“But your people need you more than I do.”

“Fucks s-, why won’t you let me help? You won’t stay with me, so why can’t I stay with you?”

Y/N cupped Toji’s face, her thumb stroking his cheek. She craved him; he made her pliable, like clay in a sculptors hands. In that moment, she wanted to give him everything he wanted. There was nobody else more willing to help her pass the time in the night. Who else could say they could fight off her nightmares with his bare hands? Toji was made of smoke and steel, breaking through and sliding between every crack and crevice inside her.

“I want you to, but we can’t indulge this,” she whispered, her tingling lips almost unable to speak. “Not now, not until the war is over.”

Toji groaned with exasperation and fell silent. Y/N could feel him thinking hard, and she indulged in his distraction, exploring his face with the pads of her fingers. She traced his furrowed brows, smoothing them out, moving on to the strong bridge of his nose and his smoky lashes.

“What’s the point of praying?” Toji asked suddenly. “How do you know God even listens?

Y/N’s finger froze, just as she was about to trace the scar on his lip. “It’s just what faith is. There’s something that happens when you pray. You can feel God’s presence watching and listening.”

“So, you can still feel it? Even here?”

“Not anymore, but I think he’s still able to listen. Why do you ask?”

“Just curious, I like to know how you think. I want to know what you expect from me, because I don’t really understand your… customs.”

Toji stood up, almost reluctantly, and Y/N’s inner voice cried out as he untangled their souls from their intimate moment. “Where are you going?” she whispered, urgency lacing her words.

“I’ll be back here tonight. Wait for me,” he replied, stroking her cheek before disappearing.

Later that night, true to his word, Toji was there waiting for Y/N, but he wasn’t alone. He was with a with a girl, her shaggy cropped hair framing her face, with a thousand and one angry scars crisscrossing every bit of her skin. There was an undeniable connection between her and Toji; their auras mirrored each other, as if they were cut from the same cloth, made of the same blood and flesh.

Y/N hesitated slightly but approached them nonetheless, regaining an air of authority as she walked. Today’s battle had gone awry; Jogo’s soldiers had overwhelmed them completely at a supply outpost. It took both Miguel and Larue to drag her away from the fight, so strong was her desperation to defend their resources. Now, she was left drained and filled with dread, knowing that Geto’s army, as well as her own, had lost even more supplies for their war.

I’m sorry, brother. I will do better.

Concern…

Y/N shook her head at Toji, hoping he understood that now was not the time or place to discuss her feelings. He frowned, seemingly conceding, and introduced the girl beside him. “Y/N, this is Maki Zenin.”

She raised an eyebrow at Maki, though not entirely surprised at the revelation of her relation to Toji. “Zenin?”

“Not anymore,” the girl interjected, her tone a touch sour. “Just call me Maki.”

“I see,” Y/N replied flatly, unimpressed with Maki’s tone, and turned her gaze back to Toji. “And why exactly is Maki here?”

“She left the Zenins and joined my court,” Toji answered, looking at Maki with reserved interest. “But I think she would be able to help you win this war.”

“Is that so?” Y/N sized Maki up, assessing her from head to toe. “Why did you leave the Zenins?”

Maki’s demeanor seemed to shatter and harden instantaneously, her voice strained as she muttered through gritted teeth. “They murdered my sister.”

“And you want to join us because you want revenge? This war isn’t your emotional playground.”

“It’s not, no. And I don’t want to join Geto, just you. Fushiguro is the only family I have left, family that I’ve chosen, and you’re his mate. That makes you my family too, and no more of my family is going to be murdered.”

Y/N’s resolve softened, and she glanced at Toji, who regarded Maki with just a slight hint of pride. He turned to her, and said lowly. “She’s not like them. I trust her to fight alongside you and watch over you when I can’t.”

She clicked her tongue in thought and nodded. What was there really to lose? If Toji trusted her, then Y/N would too. “Fine then, Maki. You can join us.”

Relief…

“Maki, give us a moment,” Toji said, and the girl nodded before walking off into the hustle of the barracks.

“You didn’t think I’d let her stay?” Y/N questioned, her gaze following Maki as she was stopped by Larue, who immediately seemed to be trying to provoke her.

He sighed and stood beside her. “I didn’t think you’d let just anybody get that close to you.”

Y/N hummed. “She doesn’t seem like just anyone if you let her stay with you.”

Toji’s eyes darkened, and he muttered. “I know how it feels to be chewed and spat back out by that family.”

Larue poked Maki’s scarred arm, and she swiftly had him pinned to the ground in a headlock. A group of Curses gathered round, egging on the confrontation, their appetite for violence and bloodshed insatiable. This was the brutal hierarchy of their world, where strength was the only clear language understood. Maki could either overcome it, or crumble. Y/N expected her to survive, otherwise Toji’s plan would have failed before it even began.

“She’s fast,” she commented, and Toji nodded.

“Maki’s like me, nearly fights exactly the same. Through her, I may as well be fighting this war with you.” He nudged her gently, his gaze softening. “What happened today?”

Y/N sighed, pinching her nose. “We don’t have the numbers to defend ourselves and our supplies. We’ve lost too many resources already, and Geto needs all the help he can get to wage out the siege.”

She knew that Toji wasn’t going to offer aid. Doing so would risk openly aligning his kingdom with theirs, and subjecting his people to the wrath of two layers. It would plunge nearly all of Hell into chaos, and subject his people to the same suffering that Geto faced.

Nearly all of Hell.

But not all…

“What will you do, then?”

As Maki brought her clenched fist straight into Larue’s throat, the beginning of an idea started to form in Y/N’s head. Toji chuckled beside her, the ghost of his hand next to hers, as he watched his younger cousin establish her dominance. Though he may not have realized it yet, by bringing her to Y/N, Maki’s willingness to switch allegiance opened up new possibilities.

“I think I might go and visit someone.”

-•-

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@katsvgou

[eggswastaken]

I had the stupidest idea ever for a fanfic because I was making fnaf shaggy jokes.

Basically, I was wondering why shaggy would become “purple guy” in the first place. What would motivate Shaggy to unalive five children?

So here’s my thoughts:

Shaggy was getting seriously tired of all the ghosts and monsters that the Gang were having to face off.

After such a long time on the road of constant mystery solving, the Gang finally takes a week long break in a small town. (That town being where Freddy Fazbear’s pizza place is.)

At this time Shaggy is just exhausted, and none of the gang seem to understand. Shaggy is so sick of being chased by ghosts for no good reason!

(also some of the ghosts they encounter are obviously real so shaggy doesn’t understand why the real ghosts are mad at him.)

So while shaggy and scooby check out the local pizza place (Freddy’s) Shaggy’s thoughts turn darker and darker. That maybe he should just make his own ghosts, that he could be the one in control of what’s going on for once. So that’s what he does.

When it’s started to get late he convinces Scooby to go find the gang and head back to the hotel they’re staying at and he will meet them there.

Once Scooby leaves Shaggy and a handful of family’s are left at the dinner.

(Insert plot thing so that Shaggy figures out a plan to lure a child to the back because what’s easier to kill than a child? Also he uses the old springbonnie suit)

And Shaggy has his first victim. And this goes on for a couple days (about two or three more victims) until the rest of the Gang hear about it. And of course Fred is so excited because even though they should let the police handle it he can’t help be excited for another “mystery!” Shaggy being very reluctant to the idea of course, but everyone else brushes it off as him just being classic Shaggy.

(The Gang probably suspect William the owner of the restaurant, because he comes off a little cruel. But he’s actually a nice guy in this.)

After Shaggy “unalives” the last couple kids and the Gang are getting close to the answer. Shaggy already knows that there’s no turning back from what he’s done and he goes a little insane.

(Shaggy probably become on of the “missing” and he uses that to his advantage. Also probably why the gang doesn’t think it’s him.)

He’s ether hiding the body’s at the moment or just done killing the last kid, When the rest of the Gang find him in the act. They of course don’t know it’s Shaggy because he’s in the spring Bonnie suit.

They run around and have a terrifying time trying to get away from the rabbit holding a bloody knife. But Fred gets a plan and they get him into the backroom and into some kind of trap that Fred threw together.

Of course it reviled that it was Shaggy all along and the gang are devastated. They ask why and just as Shaggys about to go off on a tangent about how sick of everything he is.

The spring locks go off.

And the gang just leaves him there, It’s kinda sad to be honest.

“None of this would have happened if you meddling kids just would have been nice to your friend!”

I might make this a fic idk yet but tag me or something if you have ideas.

Edit: looking for a computer to use so I can start writing this idea.



[aggressivenesswhilecrying]

Does it truly matter?

Summery:

The world has ended. No real surprise about that, huh? Zombies and everything horrible taking over, and Charlie thinks he might honestly be one of the only people out here anymore.

One night while trying to get sleep possible. He finds his vision blossoming in white, and his head pounding.

TWS THERE IS A BLOODY SCENE AT THE END, GODS, THERES A GOOD BIT OF RELIGIOUSNESS INVOLED.

Not beta reader edited!!

(@qsmpbur hiiii!! Sorry it took a hot second, and kind of sucked a little, button, I'm your pinch hitter, and this is your fic!! It was scu, bit. Idk, it's kinda not anymore, it went weird. But I hope you enjoy it!!)

(@mcytblrholidayexchange)

Charlie will never say he's a religious man, by no means is he a man of worship. 

When he awoke, and the end of the world was upon him, he never prayed. He never found the point. No, as the sun set beyond the horizon, and all he can see is bloodied, mangled bodies, of humans and zombies alike, from his home on the roof top. He can't say he's particularly religious.

In those moments he clutches the cross around his neck. He holds it, feels his blood pound. And then he retreats to bed. Not a prayer on his lips.

Tossing and turning. All night. His eyes are so so heavy. Staying shut despite his best wishes, and yet he can't fall asleep. His limps feel like their dragging him into the mattress. And yet his pillow hurts him neck, and no matter how he lays, his back aches. 

He hurts.

The pounding of his head mixed with the general aching leaving his groaning as he sit up.

“God damn it….” just hearing his tired voice makes his nose wrinkle, as it would take an idiot to not hear the pain laced with every noise.

His feet hit the hard wood under his feet. Cold but more then welcome. His far too tired eyes open, feeling like they're dragging against his very eyes. He leaves his glasses on the nightstand as he lets himself stare at the wall in front of him. It's so empty in the room it almost hurts. So quite and dark. 

He couldn't tell you what time it is, clock's had stopped working and being trust worthy, long, long ago. And wll, charlie doesn't remember his life before this, and therefore, doesn't believe he knows just, exactly how to tell the time without a clock. 

The dark hurts his eyes to stare at, feeling the shapes change beneath his eye, and his head spin. The old falling off the wall poster becoming something from his nightmares. And suddenly.

There's light. Almost blinding. His arms coming up to sheikd his face as the world spins. He couldn't tell you how long it had been, or just how sudden the light had game. His mind reeling back.

“Hellooooo…?” A voice he can almost recognize calls out, voice teasing, and like honey in his ears. Sweet and syrupy, clogging all his thoughts.

Slowly hands move away from his face. The blinding white compared to the dark sad room he was in before leaves his head pounding, and he almost can't tell the difference between the air around him, and the figure infant of him.

Wavy brown hair curling and falling over one of its pure white eyes. White eyelashes giving an impossibly, almost holy look.

A ring of wings surround the back of its head, all with normal looking eyes That look directly at him. 

Long white, silky fabrics barely held on, yet draped in a way to conceal everything. And Charlie could see the hints of ache bumps on both its shoulders and its face. Stretch marks curving up and wrapping around its stomach.

Oh. And it was giant. At least a million times bigger then him. A large finger, at least double his height came, just barely tapping him and he swore he lost his breath no matter how small of a tap it was. He couldn't very distantly tell he was staring at it. But to be frank? He didn't care much.

“holllllyyyyyy fuckkkkk…” he lets his voice drag out, breathy and awestruck. The being in front of him just had a growing smile.

Wilbur. His name was Wilbur. The being of too bright lights, wings and eyes, called itself Wilbur.

“Did…don't tell me you picked it out..?” He said, voice edging on a laugh, he honestly can't be sure he's processed any of this. From dark room, to blinding white light, to sitting, and just…talking with a semi person, just…getting to know it.

“What's wrong with Wilbur? I thought it sounded rather dashing!!” It's weird British voice laughed out, almost teasing tone as it's face wrinkled at Charlie. Nose scrunched up, and laugh on the tips of its voice. Mouth quirkedup at one end as Charlie couldn't help himself from laughing, shaking his head.

“Nothing nothing, just sounds a bit like the name of, of an asshole, yknow? You have the name of a man that would cry if his beer was bitter..!!” He chuckled, tilting his head at the God, before watching it recoil, too thin and feminine hand coming to its chest, other on its hip as it leans back, gasp on his voice, wings around its head flaring out. As it acting rather offended. And he could feel his heart race, pounding in his chest, begging to get out.

“I much prefer wine, thank you very much!!” the far far too tall being squawked out. Voice jokingly offended. White eyes glaring deep at Charlie, a pout on his lip, and wings flared back.

There's a deep sense in Charlie's guy, maybe, just maybe a God Like being being a little upset at him is, very possibly, a very very bad thing but at some point, he doesn't find he cares, letting himself laugh, loud and hard, hurting his chest in all the rights ways. Making his face strain, and cheeks hurt, with the most hes smiled in far too long.

And the room is silent, silent outside of his laughing, the God kneeling were his face is in front of Charlie, a soft, over confident grin spanning his cheeks, the glowing of his eyes, not changing the lighting in the painful white area. All the eyes on Charlie and to be fully, and truly honest? He doesn't find he minds the attention.

After this, after the soft moments, charlie finds himself there every night. Every single night,long after his eyes have closed. He finds Wilbur in every little thing. A dove of the roof, a too white wall. And in the lilies he finds growing far too quickly in every area he's in.

It's easy to see Wilbur in day to day life, his only consistent company in the hell hole of the now world. 

As the bullet kicks off, charlie watches through the scope as the zombie is sent hobbling back, a hole in the green for head gushing out, dripping down its nose, and slowly into its own mouth, charlie can almost hear Wilbur whisper of headshot!!

[grisailledreams]

Never Enough

Astarion stews in a little jealousy while Brynne sings at a Gortash-sponsored party. (AKA Astarynne fluff is back deal with it)

EDIT: Lmao songfic bitches! Never Enough from The Greatest Showman

Title: Never Enough Word count: ~3108 words Pairing: Astarynne (Astarion/Brynne // Astarion/OC // Astarion/Tav -- can you tell idk how we're supposed to be tagging this?) Content Warnings: Light swearing

For a moment, there, Astarion thought he and Brynne had something special. He was the first person she spoke to in the morning. The last touch she sought before bedding down. The one she embraced hardest when that desiccated skeleton man in their camp brought him back from the brink of death, or when it was Brynne being ressurected instead. And yet, every bloody time she sang a duet, it was always with someone else!

Whenever the group came short on coin or supplies, a bard could magically make gold appear with a wiggle of the fingers and a pretty tune – even in a refugee camp. More collected in the hat if she had a partner and upped the performance value, so occasionally Brynne dragged one of their companions onstage and… well, sparks flew. Every time.

She and Wyll sang a romantic duet about defying fate, complete with wizard-made miniature fireworks.

Shadowheart begrudgingly became the other half of a musical business deal.

Karlach had a fantastic time bellowing out a dramatic, pining vow with her.

Gale often got roped into a windy, free-spirited call to adventure.

It was the Wyll number that stuck in Astarion’s craw the most. His ability to provide special effects made him an attractive partner, as did his surprising ability to carry a tune while doing so. That may have had a little to do with Brynne. There was something about her playing that seemed to draw music out of people if she wanted it to; unlikely that Shadowheart knew any music that wasn’t a psalm to Shar. But Brynne and Wyll fell into their show, casting doubts and aspersions aside to promise that they could be together in spite of the world telling them that they couldn’t. They danced in one another’s arms. If Brynne hung a length of silk from a high ceiling – a trick she pulled in the Last Light – she and Wyll performed simple aerial feats to add to the music. And, at the end of the song, Wyll always moved in for a kiss. Astarion always held his breath. Brynne always stepped away and again reiterated that they couldn’t be together. In song.

Afterwards, her duet partners might have said something friendly about how fun it was, or ask with bright eyes how much they managed to rake in, but the romance of it all never brought them closer.

Did it? The jealous fire in Astarion’s belly only made him believe that Wyll looked at her a little too long for the rest of the night, a little too dreamy-eyed, juxtaposing a little too much of a fairytale damsel’s aura over Brynne’s face–

Not once did the bard ever, ever ask Astarion if he’d like to sing with her.

He didn’t. Why embarrass himself in front of so many people the way their associates did? But an invitation might have been nice.

It took last place in the list of his concerns when Gortash invited – “Read,” said Astarion as they looked at the notice, “insists.” – Brynne to play at a dinner honoring the officials of the Flaming Fists and, in the interest of not having anyone throw them all into Wyrm’s Rock, Brynne agreed. She’d been playing coy with the new Archduke every time he suggested they work together. “Avoiding a fight” without making promises she didn’t intend to keep. Gods. Yes, he understood the intention of it and yes, he would have done the same thing for slightly different reasons, but now she was forcing him to go along with her idiot plans because he knew — he knew, gods damn her! — that if he didn't, she'd wind up in Wyrm's Rock with Gortash waving his hand for a servant to dispose of her corpse and mop the blood from his shiny, marble floor. And then what was Astarion supposed to do? Go to Withers? What lesson would Brynne learn, then, about doing stupid things?

When the night arrived, Karlach, Astarion, and Jaheira dressed up as much as any of them cared to – Loudly, Nicely, and “Fuck It” in that order – and concealed the weapons they were banned from bringing on their persons. Brynne didn’t seem worried. Her creepy lyre strung with spider silk, she insisted, was all the weapon she needed when Astarion asked her about whether she wanted her bow or her rapier and where she planned to put either.

“Where could I possibly hide those in this dress?” she asked, with far too much laughter in her voice for comfort.

In fairness, she was right. The fabric, a fetchingly deep shade of green that made her pink skin glow, had been clipped, stitched, and draped in a style reminiscent of Antiquity – one that exposed most of her back, especially with her green-and-brown hair teased into a careless updo laced with gold chains. Matching metallic flowers and insects cast in a modern style pinned the fabric into fanciful sleeves that fell away at the elbow so as not to get in the way of her playing. She’d even abandoned her daywear boots – leather and scruffy and certainly not a pair to go with this ensemble – for soft, thick-soled sandals with jeweled clasps and straps that ran up to the thigh. Decidedly unsuitable for a fight if one broke out.

Astarion’s judgmental eye only went over her once before he took a knee at her feet, took his dagger sheath entirely from his belt, and strapped the sussur blade just above the topmost strap of Brynne’s sandal where she could easily reach it.

When she began to protest, Astarion dramatically sighed and cut her off. “I’ll have to make do with my rapier. Do take care not to lose that. We went through so much to have it forged.”

He kissed her and called her beautiful so she’d forget to keep arguing.

Their party walked through streets that used to be so lively at this time of day, when the sun had just gone down and lanterns lit the way. Taverns and burlesque houses that typically stayed loud and merry into the first rays of dawn largely closed their doors before midnight. Anyone who still dared be out by nightfall cast suspicious glances at the adventurers, not knowing whether they were saviours or oncoming damnation. Thank gods Astarion need not hunt nowadays. Breaking down those psychological walls would have been exhausting. As he and the rest of the group approached Wyrm’s Rock, they found one of the few places with open doors, bright lights, chatter, and the smell of food wafting from the windows: the Flaming Fist officers’ barracks.

Even at a party – especially at a party, maybe – there were guards. A tall, muscular woman in full steel plate stopped them at the door to mean-mug them into giving up whatever anti-Gortashian plot they might think to hatch. In that sickeningly sweet, gorgeously manipulative way of hers, Brynne batted her eyelashes and flashed the letter bearing the Archduke’s signature.

Once the manip decided it wasn’t a forgery, the glare softened into boredom and she flatly said, “No weapons past this point.”

“We know!” Brynne chirped. “We came prepared!” She turned around to face her team, raising her brows. “Right?”

Karlach, Jaheira, and Astarion exchanged glances amongst themselves. With a shrug, Jaheira said, “Don’t look at me. What, you think I’m senile and forgot we weren’t allowed to bring blades? And this one,” she said, jabbing her thumb to Karlach, “wouldn’t be able to hide a weapon in a smith’s forge.”

“Hey!”

And then they all whirled on Astarion.

He groaned, hung his head back, and drew his fingers through his freshly-washed and touseled hair. “I’m hurt. I’m offended. You all really think so little of me?!”

“I could pick you up by the ankle and shake it out of you,” Karlach offered.

“Ugh, fine, fine…” Astarion opened his doublet, pulled out a cheap, tiny dagger from a hidden pocket, and waved it in front of their faces before he deposited it in the manip’s waiting hand. “There. Happy?”

“Astarion!”

The disappointment in Brynne’s voice might have broken his heart if it hadn’t been all one massive pantomime.

In Brynne’s flurry of impassioned apologies to the manip and offers to leave Astarion behind, not to mention Jaheira and Karlach muttering criticisms of him under their breath, the Flaming Fist never once thought to check the rest of them to see if they were also carrying concealed blades. Clearly, they cared deeply about being present for this Gortash-sponsored event. The other option likely involved a trip to Wyrm’s Rock for defiance. Who would think that sweet, freckled, spring blossom face could lie so perfectly? Clearly, not the manip waving them through the gate.

Officers enjoyed higher pay and more authority, but it seemed their buildings were still just too small to host gatherings anywhere other than their courtyard. Wait, there were hay mannequins crushed below the stairs. Training yard. Out-of-place tablecloths decorated shabby trestle tables, set with gleaming silver tableware for the officers and attending patriars. No one too fancy. High-ranking merchants, lower nobility, people who might have been invited to Gortash’s ascension ceremony but also would have been surprised and eager by it. Dinner smelled expensive; a far cry from even the fare at the Elfsong. Serving staff made rounds through the party with trays of hors d’ouevres and crystal flutes full of sparkling wine, but a bar had been set up opposite the stage. A few invitees spared the party a glance, but once they saw Brynne and her lyre, they lost interest. The band had to set up. They wouldn’t be interesting until later. Then again, they didn’t know that Astarion was about to go mingle.

He hung back for a moment, though, so he could fix her hair. One of the curls she left loose didn’t look as nice as the one next to it. “Singing with Karlach again?” he asked, trying to sound conversational; he failed to keep out the grumble. “Or are you forcing poor old Jaheira on stage with you for once?”

“Neither.” Astarion glanced up. “No duets.” And glanced down to fix the drape of one of her sleeves. “Gortash sent an incredibly specific set list for me.”

“Dictatorial even in party music. I should be less surprised.”

“Maybe if I do a decent job for his underlings, I’ll get to play for the man, himself!” They both laughed. Neither of them wanted to be in the same room as Gortash again unless it was to slit his throat. “Alright. Don’t pickpocket anyone, okay?”

“But darling,” he purred, briefly drawing his foreknuckle over her cheekbone and the elven knots tattooed over it, “you know how your pretty music makes my fingers itch.”

Again, she giggled, rolling her eyes, but her face glowed in that odd, warm way that eladrins seemed to do when they were happy. Absolutely blinding, sometimes, like the morning after that first night they’d spent together, or the one after their little celebration with the tieflings. Luckily, she’d been sunny in his direction often enough that he could stand its light. He liked that she saw their dynamic burglary duo status as something favorable. Even cherished.

Astarion kissed the back of her hand, demure enough in his gesture so as not to cheapen her presence in front of her audience, but also to enough eyes to make sure they all knew she was taken. “Break a leg, my love,” he murmured, right before he melted into the crowd. The strings sang to him before he reached the open bar.

The wine did nothing to relax the tension in Astarion’s legs and he’d sooner chop his own foot off before he jiggled a leg the way Brynne did whenever she felt restless. He wasn’t used to a task so full of nothing. They were always trying to infiltrate, steal, expose, kill, or save someone or something, typically with mixed results, and while they could have spent half that time doing something more worthwhile, at least it felt productive when they inevitably found gold, treasure, or new equipment. None of that, here. She’d told him so. But with all those eyes glued to her, easing into the music, Astarion spied no fewer than three purses he could cut and several pieces of jewelry easily liberated. On toetips, he could probably sneak into the officer’s chambers and rummage through their things before Brynne even finished the song. He’d done beautiful work with her in the counting house like this. She could play for hours. He hadn’t met a lock he couldn’t pick.

Instead, Astarion tried to listen to the music. War songs, mostly, an anthem to Bane, and multiple numbers clearly written by Gortash, himself, praising his new elevation in status… all ridiculous. The attendees listened politely and applauded with extra strength when Gortash’s name was mentioned, but for the most part, they spoke amongst themselves. Karlach and Jaheira managed to elbow their way into a table with a wealthy old married couple who were dressed far too formally and too old-fashioned to be anything other than family or donors. By the sounds of it, they were too deaf to be offended by Karlach’s occasional loud outburst. The wife in blue velvet patted Karlach on the shoulder while her partner, Wife in Green, launched into a rambling tale that Jaheira patiently listened to… or, at least, she seemed to nod periodically.

Servants served dinner and Karlach tried to wave Astarion over to join them, but he held up a hand. Being a vampire made his already limited elven diet that much more restrictive. The only hunger he’d felt lately was for… well. He didn’t need to say it, did he?

As Brynne wrapped up another song about Gortash – Jannath’s Ecstasy – one of the Archduke’s representatives, sent to the event as his stand-in, tapped a spoon to his glass and stood up. A thin little human man with a whisker-thin mustache and a curly-tailed coat. He cleared his voice and said in a reedy voice, “A few words, from His Grace, Archduke Enver Gortash…”

Oh, the droning. Blah blah blah, dawn of a new age, blah blah blah, thin steel line. The myriads pamphlets regarding Gortash’s policy plans were bad enough. Each syllable of this speech made Astarion want to dismantle his ears piece by piece from the inside out. He caught Brynne’s eye. She grinned at him, lips pressed tightly together so she could rearrange her expression if one of the Fists realized she wasn’t drinking in every word. Jaheira and Karlach did that. One, desiring to learn more about their enemy through the words he spoke through a puppet. The other, glowing red and barely containing her fury; the patriars at their table soon fanned themselves from the heat.

 Finally, the human stepped down, bid the attendees to enjoy their meal, and flashed Brynne a signal to continue playing her set. She dipped her head with a sweet smile and dropped an inch as some kind of respectful curtsy that managed to not put her playing stance off-balance. Nothing more than background noise, no one could say that Brynne didn’t do her very best when it came to music. Even when she only had a true audience of one. Her eyes found Astarion again. That smile widened and warmed.

He couldn’t look away, not when her fingers danced over the strings and made the lyre twinkle like a starry music box.Her expression softened and Astarion knew this song was his.

“I’m trying to hold my breath. Let it stay this way. Can’t let this moment end.”

No one noticed that this wasn’t part of the preapproved set list for quite a while. Perhaps they were too invested in complimenting the food and wine selection and the Fists had long tuned her out by then. Fine. They didn’t need to. Astarion’s stomach squirmed in a more pleasant way than to which he was accustomed, letting the music caress him in the way Brynne clearly wanted to do herself. A clandestine little love note in the middle of a crowded room. A shame that it couldn’t last.

“All the shine of a thousand spotlights, all the stars we steal from the night sky will never be enough. Never be enough. Towers of gold are still too little. These hands could hold the world, but it’ll never be enough. Never be enough for me.”

 Faces began to turn to stone. Laughs throttled and broke mid-throat. The attendees who weren’t entirely pro-Gortashian rule shifted uncomfortably where they sat. The rest glared. Brynne sang, her lyrics full of greed and reaching farther beyond what was reasonable, all packaged up in the sound of a gentle ballad that grew in strength with each iteration. Karlach groaned a little and when Astarion glanced over to their table, the tiefling was rubbing her temple with a single finger and Jaheira looked ready to garrote Brynne. Astarion shook his head, smirking. They were going to get run out of town if she didn’t stop soon.

Every person in that courtyard aside from Brynne and Astarion had missed the parts that solidified her song as one of love, and Astarion greedily hoarded them for himself.

You set off a dream in me, getting louder now. Can you hear it echoing? Take my hand. Will you share this with me? ‘Cause darling, without you…

No matter how many bank vaults they flawlessly emptied, no matter how fine the wines they stole, no matter how heavy their gold purses grew, it would never be enough without Brynne at his side, hand in hand.

Who else could be his partner in crime as well as in life?

The song ended as gently as it started and through the polite, if stilted, smatter of applause, Brynne blew Astarion a kiss. A pair of Fist gauntlets escorted her off stage. She laughed, waved off their worry, tried to assure them that it wasn’t any criticism of the Archduke or his loyal patriars, but to the gate she went all the same. Astarion gestured with his head for Jaheira and Karlach to follow, pocketing his secret smile.

He grabbed Brynne’s hand before she saw him exit the courtyard. Karlach and Jaheira launched into complaints about barely being able to eat anything or get properly drunk, or how they were having such a nice conversation with those sweet old Grans. Astarion and Brynne tuned them out. She squeezed his fingers. Heat bloomed in his chest.

Brynne never sang songs to any of the others the way she did for him. And he’d never get enough of it.

[whypolar]

Just thinking about the Gundam Unicorn novels.

I have many conflicted feelings about these books, and I'm still not sure how to tease them apart yet. There's things I really like in there, but I would anti-recommend them as a whole to most people. I might try to lay it all out after I get around to watching the anime and see how they handled things... for now, I'm happy just thinking about the characters I particularly like.

I read the prequel manga, which was interesting. I really enjoyed everything about Frontal and Angelo (I am biased). I'm going to read the translated parts of the main story's manga adaptation later.

I've mentioned before that Unicorn caught my interest because of things I'd heard about Angelo. I did not realize at the time that he was going to be a character whose perspective the story spends any actual time in, so that was a nice surprise. I have thoughts about him that I want to hash out eventually, especially as a parallel to Marida.

(I wrote a massive fucking thing about the sexual violence in these books, both generally and in regards to Angelo and Marida specifically. Idk when exactly it will see the light of day, if ever. I might try to edit it down. It might get even longer.)

Still, Frontal ended up being the character I really latched onto. I always love a cyber newtype, and he's just so fucked up. But he's fucked up in a way that's very... subdued. Under control until the end, when he finally breaks down into a relentless bloody ghoul piloted by an angry ghost.

He's Gundam Frankenstein's monster, right?

A living person who gives the impression of a mannequin, a puppet, a computer generated image. A man who should be conventionally good-looking, but people don't feel good about looking at him.

He's seen as a heroic figure. He was deliberately designed to inspire others, and he does. He's an object of horror and disgust. He's in a position of military authority, but his entire life has been planned by other people, who dictated exactly what he should be.

He has all of three years of chronological memory as himself, and he's already tired of everything. There's a gaping hole at his core where the feelings leak out. He's deeply, poisonously angry. He has to mirror others to understand himself, because he believes that he is empty.

He's a mask with nothing underneath. He's his own individual. He is Literally Fucking Possessed.

...I really like him.

He's also constantly described as extremely large, which cracks me up because he's otherwise identical to Char? Maybe it's just that he's being described from the POV of characters who happen to be small, but it really comes off like they made the perfect (uncanny) replica of Char, but bigger. Because he's more impressive that way, maybe? Because he happened to be large, and it would be harder to change his body size than it would be worth, as most people have never seen Char in person anyway? Because Char lied about his height and build on an official form at some point, and they just followed those specifications??? I don't know. It makes me laugh. Depending on perspective, it can come off as either 'horror movie monster' or 'romance novel male love interest'

[unicyclehippo]

poetry takes for fucking ages WOW. anyway attempt the second, figuring stuff out, it’s coming out more like a stage play than a poem? idk

transcript under the read more

The Tale of the Bells Hells

NARRATOR:

At times I feel I stand upon a stage, The theatre dark, the audience mute, and I, Performing to nothing yet feeling eyes Upon me. Hoping they hear the echo Of the echo of my words.

If you are out there and come to listen, I bid you welcome. Draw up your seat and Pour a drink. If you have come to hear the Echo of the echo of my story, Welcome, I wrote it for you.

The stories that I enjoy the most are Those of people like you and I who, by Some strange work of fate or luck are help up By the scruff, by the narrative, and told The world is broken. Fix it.

The story I'm about to tell is one That's much the same. Seven friends who confront Great apocalyptic evil. Monsters And cruel men that seek to take and break That which they cannot control.

It happened outside Basuras, a red And rusted town. Nor'east of it the site Of the Bloody Bridge that hooked Ruidus To the ground, looming overhead. Waiting. An ill omen to the end.

It happened on the Solstice, magic's net Shining in the sky. As the villain of Our story, now with every piece in place Unmatched, victorious, delivered us Unto our terrible fate.

It's destinty that put the heroes there In time to save us all. But destiny Is us who share this tale. We make the world And heroes too, those resounding echoes. In the dark, a voice calls out.

IMOGEN TEMULT Despite the weeks we've spent up in Jrusar, I'm still no fan of these damn things. I wish...

LAUDNA I know, my dear. The heights. Who could have guessed they would Frighten you as they do. My offer stands. [I know.] A hand to hold whenever. In fact, I might have two.

IMOGEN TEMULT Sure hope you still have two. Be hard to find Another [edit] for ya in a town like this one.

ok I’ve been thinking abt this poem & i know why it doesn’t work it’s the meter babY i was thinking too hard abt rhyme & not enough abt rhythm but ya boy is thinking abt rhythm now & what it conveys abt character & imgonna see what i can make of it this is rly fun

[unknownperson-is-not-known]

Rating hunter's weapon/skills

Warning: mentions of broken bones, blood, bruise, gore etc etc.... I'm not a doctor so this is probably not accurate

Hell ember

-its a shark plushie....

-the only way he can kill you is that he suffocate you or have ungodly amount of power

-so 0/10

-but if we're talking about his old weapon then.... Yup. It WILL hurt

-you are alive but not thriving

-yes he can use it to kill you but it depends on his force/where he strikes really. 7/10

-his puppet is made out of metal(?) so yeah you will get bruises

Smiley face

-imma be honest idk how it works but it will probably hurt

-but from his animation he's kinda thrusting so the tip is only hitting you also it's blunt so it's more of a bruise

-this sounds dirty out of context but yeah 5/10

-but old weapon.... 10/10 it's literally a CHAINSAW unless you have plot armor

The ripper

-yeah.... About your back

-rip (no pun intended)

-it depends on how hard he hit you

-worst case scenario is that he hit your nerves and stuff (I'm not a med school student don't ask please)

-best case scenario he just scratch your back lol

-6-8/10

-foggy blade is a different story tho.

-ill assume that it's like a force of wind hitting your back which again, depends on distance/how hard etc.

-so for me i think it's just bruise 4/10

Gamekeeper

-do you see that shit????

-it doesn't hit you

-it doesn't hit your spinal cord

-but that shit goes through you 10/10

-but if he hit you then about 6/10

-now Bear traps....

-you won't die (unless you are left to bleed out) but it will hurt so fucking much

-7/10

Violetta

-bruises

-her arm (legs?) Is made out of metal so it's just bruises 4/10

-her web is just going to make your skin very itchy that's for sure 1/10 unless you cannot tolerate it like me then 3/10

-now cacoon death...

-i think you'll die because of lack of air which kinda explain why you die faster than the rocket chair 8/10 not painful as others but is very unique

-im not going to talk about her throwing web though

Geisha

-the most tolerable out of anyone (except hell ember shark plushie lol)

-yes it's hard but hey you live and it won't hurt much like others 1/10

-no butterflies they don't hurt ya

Feaster

-bruises

-it hurts the next day but not the match lol 6/10

-the is way too short so....

-if we considered that he has so much power then... Some broken bones?

Wu Chang

-more bruises 2/10

-ill just assume that their skill just f with your mental health

Photographer

-ah yes everyone favorite short midget bald grandpa with Donald duck colo(u)r palette

-its a sword

-ALSO he actually have training 7/10

-i won't rate photo world

Mad eyes

-our ACTUAL favorite grandpa

-off topic but if you main Chad eyes i respect you and your dedication so much

-but if we are talking about his walls then....10/10 you are dead

-okay so bruises again 6/10

-EDIT: yeah imma change that to 10/10 bc of the steam... Might burn ur skin off

Dream witch (servant)

-pickaxe

-self explanatory really 7/10

Axe boy

-an axe

-7/10

-BUT remember he's a decapitated child so he won't really have much power so 5ish/10

-fire ball jkjk but 2nd degree burns go brrrrr 8/10

Evil reptilian

-kinda like geisha but sharper so 4/10

-okay....

-anyone forbids that this lizard man get presence

-WILL crush you and step on you (lucky simps)

-10/10 ain't no way you are gonna survive

Bloody Queen

-quick question

-how isn't her finger cut off yet????

-shes pretty much a corpse

-4/10

Guard 26

-spike go brrrrr

-yup that's gonna hurt

-6-7/10

-BUT BOMBS!

-Again 2nd degree burns

-7-8 ish /10

"Disciple"

-shes doesn't outright stab you with that so 4/10

-but if she stabs you instead of slapping you....

-again depends where soooo 6-10/10

-if her cat have rabies then you are dead 10/10

Violinist

-it doesn't hurt much 1.5/10

-bro got scammed by the devil lololol

-his skills literally make people ears bleed

-0.5/10

Sculptor

-my main :D

-she uses telepathy so i can't calculate

-but she seems to be new at it

-ngl at the end of her attack she's like trying to pick her chisel up

-its a shallow stab 4/10

-BUT

-STATUES

-MORE BRUISES

-also by her description you need to be crash into something with her statues

-so assuming that she chips everytime and you crash against the wall then....

-broken bones

-bruises

-internal bleeding

-10/10

Undead

-bro sword is like clouds sword from final fantasy 7/10

-he slug you

-ALSO charge attack skill makes your heart skip a beat 10/10

The breaking wheel

-spikes

-hey um breaking wheel mains out there...

-how tf do you play him?

-i can't even kite him ffs

-anyways there's no hope you are dead 10/10

Naiad

-another shallow stab but this time it's sharper so 5/10

-despite what people thinks

-she doesn't drown people in her abyss (even though it will be pretty cool and horrifying at the same time

-theres just creatures from the sea that bites you 4/10

Wax artist

-bruises y'all know the drill

-2nd degree burns from wax

-3/10

-EDIT: change to 7/10 if the weapon thing is boiling (i forgot what it's called)

-also can someone explain his backstory and why people think he's racist????

Nightmare

-shallow stab gang

-4-5/10

-his crow did nothing at all sooooo-

Clerk

-what is she even holding????

-a cane?

-anyways about 1.5/10

-also what is her backstory and what is her gameplay? I legit can't play her

Hermit (the frog)

-cane 2/10 but he have to hit you like million times to down you/hj

-yall know how it feels like to be paralyze???

-its kinda weird you feel but also don't feel

BONUS

-so about 6/10

Night watch (nagito Komeada/hj)

-I would say 7/10 if he stabs you with it but he kinda slap you with it 4/10 (it's still metal anyways)

-WINDBLADE i mean... Cyclone The wind won't affect you much UNLESS he pulls you in and you got crash into a wall or something.

-again it depends

-0-1/10 if it's just the wind 8/10 if you crash into everything

patroller

-bites you so 8/10 lol

-rabies.

-you can't convince me otherwise so 10/10

A/n this is 1 am so I'm sorry if this doesn't make sense/rating kinda weird

BONUS BONUS:

THOMAS THE TRAM

INFINITY OUT OF INFINITY

THE MOST OP HUNTER

[shittyblogname]

the oneshot with phone guy was so good and angsty, thank you😭😭

And I'm probably being annoying, but I wanted to know if you could do a part 2? I know it was a oneshot, but I'd like to see what might happen next, like somehow the phone guy despite being so badly injured still manages to survive after a long surgery? Or idk, it's up to you what you'd like to see happen next (if you decide to do it ofc)

btw, i also think i'd be good to put a warning abt description of injury if you are gonna write that xd

and again, if you dont want to or feel uncomfortable with it, there is no need of writing it.

Hi Anon :), don't worry! You're not being annoying, I was actually hoping for a request hehe (and I'm always excited about y'all sending me your scenarios)

about the Warnings thing, I'm sorry ^^', I edited it to have Warnings, I just figured that since we're talking about a horror game here with angst requested people would figure that it's gonna be bloody lol. Thank you for reminding me of that :)

Warnings: mentions of surgery, mentions of blood, injuries & a traumatic event

Your leg anxiously bounced up and down in the waiting room. It was noon already, the surgery has been going for 8 hours and you weren't the only person that was stressed. You went home some time during to change, get a cup of coffee and some food from the bakery to keep you going. The events of the night still haunted you, worried that they are fighting for Philip's life right now, while you are sitting there, completely helpless. The other part of your mind wanted to think that they are just taking so long to restore him, mainly his face. It would be foolish to believe that he'll end up looking the exact same, but there was still hope. Either way, this is the man you love and you sure as hell weren't going to dump him for that. It seemed like eternity before a nurse finally exited the operating room, causing you to jump up from the hard chair that had kept you company this morning. Following her were the surgeons and more male nurses bringing Philip to a room for continuing care. You waited until one of the nurses approached you, not wanting to get all in their faces after such a exhausting operation.You were informed about his current state and how the surgery went, apparently he seems to be somewhat awake, yet disoriented or "not fully aware of his surroundings" the male spoke, giving you hope. Another nurse rushed down the hallway with a file in her hand, aiming for you. "he asked for you." was all she said while passing you, clearly in a hurry to do whatever with the files. The man that spoke with you previously was so kind to bring you to the room Philip was in, and instant relief washed over you. There was no bloody mess, no open wounds or a horrifying face like you imagined. You were left alone by the male nurse as he closed the door. Grabbing a little rolling stool you sat next to him, gently searching for his hand to hold. He frowned slightly at your cold fingertips, making you chuckle a little. He looked quite similar to before, a little torn with missing skin where part of his upper lip used to be, but nothing drastic. Your mind went back to the backstage room, how scared you were to lose him. You guessed that the blood and Adrenaline in your veins made everything look worse than it actually was. His eyes were severely bruised from plastic surgeons trying to reconstruct his face as best as possible, and you made the reference of a raccoon to him, earning you a giggle. "I'm so glad that you called me Philip." tears stung your eyes again, but this time a smile was stretching across your face. "I couldn't imagine work without you-" your voice trembled, a sob threatening to escape from your throat. "-or just, life, in general." he gave you a weak squeeze to the hand you held his with, smiling a little himself. You laid your head on the empty space on the bed, your other arm draped over his abdomen. You began sobbing, trying to tell him all of the feelings that were stuck inside you until now. How you felt last night, how horrifying it was. He slowly brushed his thumb against your hand, showing you just how thankful he is. He didn't need to speak, or answer your question as to if he liked you back. His eyes and the slight curl of his lips expressed all that needed to be said.

[genshin-obsessed]

My (f/n) | Zhongli x Reader

Hello! This was originally a collab idea from a friend between like 5 people. The friend who suggested the collab pulled out and idk about others lmao so it might just be me. BUT I COMMITED AND DELIVERED SO! Cuz I’m responsible and amazing💖 anyway. It’s a reincarnation AU! Banner made by 🎭 anon! Thanks to @squeaky-ducky and @solies-scripts for helping me edit this💖

Extra sidenotes: Your previous self’s vision is pyro but you can choose whatever for the reincarnated version even tho it’s not mentioned. Also, Yehara and Lilith are my OCs (yes... more)

Length: 2.1k Summary: Zhongli loves and cherishes you above all else. One day, you’re snatched away from him and the world turns black for him. Yet somehow, a thousand years later, he sees you again.

The bright sun beamed down at the land below, illuminating everything in a golden glow. Zhongli stepped out into the light and closed his eyes, inhaling the fresh air.

Days like these were beautiful but they became a blessing all thanks to one person. A smile graced Zhongli’s beautiful features at the thought of them. His hand found its way onto his chest and he felt it steadily beat. He felt an overwhelming sense of serenity and it was all thanks to this person. You.

You, yourself, were a blessing in this archon’s life. He never thought he would ever feel like this. That he would ever feel love. What was love to archons? They usually loved the lands they resided over. The original archons held love for humanity and guided them.

For Zhongli, love was something of a general term. He loved the sun, the lands… today. But his love for you was something he couldn’t describe. Something the man of wondrous knowledge couldn’t understand.

Zhongli came to realize that love wasn’t something that could be easily explained nor did it need to be. Love gave him overwhelming happiness, so why bother trying to understand every aspect of such a beautiful idea.

The Geo archon walked through the city of Liyue and although he felt great joy, there was also a certain uneasiness. He paused and touched his chest once more as the anxiety grew.

Ultimately, the man ignored it, unable to find the root cause of such dread. He instead opted to find you, so you could settle his nerves a little.

***

“Zhongli!” You beamed once you saw him. He chuckled as you ran to him and wrapped your arms around his slim figure.

“You’re rather excited today,” he commented as he hugged back, “what brought on such elation?”

“Hmm, a very pretty man.” You said, cheekily. There it was, that smile of yours washed away any and all discomfort he felt.

“Oh, is that so? I’m quite jealous.”

“I wouldn’t be.” Zhongli chuckled once more as you leaned in and gave him a kiss. The sensation of your soft lips remained on his even after you’d pulled away. “What brings you here today?”

“I was thinking we could spend some time together. We could go for a walk, maybe set up a picnic since that’s what you wanted to do last time.”

“Really!? You’ll go on a picnic with me?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?” Your radiant smile was contagious as he found himself smiling in return.

“I’ll set it up!! It can be a late night picnic or- oh! Oh! Let’s watch the sunset! Then we can have our picnic. I’ll set up candles!” Your enthusiasm was always something Zhongli loved. It benefited him more than he could admit.

“Alright then. Where?”

“Our spot!” Zhongli teasingly tilted his head making you pout.

“What spot? I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

“Yes you do! Come on, Zhongli!” Zhongli leaned in and pecked your pouty lips before nodding.

“I do. Then I’ll meet you there?” You nodded with a bright smile.

“Yes! Exactly! I’ll have everything set up and I want it to be a surprise.”

Zhongli spent a little more time with you before he left, since you needed to prepare for the date. Only a few minutes after he’d left you, the anxiety returned. He touched his chest once more with furrowed brows. What was this?

***

You smiled as you started to place the items down onto the blanket. You’d been planning this picnic for weeks now and you finally had the chance to do it.

You set the cushions and small table you had brought, placing the candles and wine bottle. The food would remain in the basket to keep it safe from bugs since you had to wait quite a while. Hopefully your pyro vision was enough to keep it warm.

“Hello, are you (y/f/n)?” A soft voice called from behind. You turned around and saw a shy, but beautiful woman with long pink hair. The clothes she wore indicated she clearly wasn’t from here. She fidgeted with her hand, showing she was nervous.

“Um… who’s asking?”

“Ah, sorry! My name is Lilith but you can call me Lily. I was told you knew where I could find a um… Mr. Zhongli?”

Zhongli? Why was she looking for him? Finding her safe enough, you opted to direct her to your boyfriend rather than giving information about yourself.

“Oh, yes I do! He’s back in Liyue but you’ll find him at Wangshen Funeral Parlor.”

“Thank you so much!” But she didn’t leave. A giggle escaped her lips and she met your eyes, giving you a dreadful feeling.

“Y-yes?”

“So he’s not here with you… good.” In the blink of an eye, Lilith was in front of you. She threw you back causing you to fly into a tree. You let out a scream as your weakened body hit the ground. Pain shot through you and you weakly looked up at her.

“Wh-why…”

“Pitiful. You’d think he’d choose someone of his caliber but no. He chose someone weak and pathetic like you. Your pyro vision was wasted on you.” Woah, where did her soft voice and shy demeanor go?

“Zh-Zhongli…” you called out as Lilith picked you up and slammed you into the tree once more.

“Call him all you want. But he won’t get here in time.” Lilith repeatedly slammed you into the tree before a sickening crack was heard.

A weak whimper escaped your bloodied lips as the light faded from your eyes.

“H-help m-me… Zh… Zhong… li…” Lilith caught your limp body and picked you up. A wicked smile played on her lips as she walked to her destination.

***

It had happened all so suddenly. Zhongli was meeting an acquaintance to talk about his work at the funeral parlor when he felt a sharp, intense pain in his chest and back. He just knew.

He threw everything away, apologizing to his friend and practically sprinting to where you two were supposed to meet. There he was met with a grim sight.

The picnic had been set up almost completely, but the large tree behind it was covered in blood. The Geo Archon knew exactly who it belonged to. He finally noticed the letter sitting on the table.

Once he read it, he ran to the nearest Statue of the Seven in hopes of finding you and whoever took you. But it was too late. When he finally reached the statue, his heart shattered.

Your body was on top of the statue, laying across the lap of the stone man. Blood trailed down your arm that hung over the edge and dripped from your finger. Your lifeless eyes stared into nothingness, the final sign of your death.

A large pillar solidified in front of him and he quickly climbed up to get to you. Zhongli’s shaky hand slowly and hesitantly touched yours. Cold. You were so cold. Where was your usual warmth? Where was that dazzling smile that often chased away his sorrows? Where was the light in your eyes? Where was the joy you brought him?

“M-my… (f/n)...” he murmured in a sorrowful tone, “what’s… no. No, this isn’t happening.” He pulled you down and into his arms, wincing at how lifeless you were.

You couldn’t be dead, you couldn’t have left him. He jumped down to the ground with you tightly in his arms. His eyes stung and his vision started to get blurry. Crying? An archon, crying? The tears slowly slid down his pale cheeks. His voice cracked when he spoke up.

“Wake up, my love. Please wake up.” He begged looking down at you. The blood trickled down your mouth, a clear sign you’d been killed recently. Within the hour, actually. “P-please blink… please wake up. Please come back to m-me. I just… I can’t do this without you. I…” what could he say? What could he do?

Zhongli had failed. He’d failed to keep you safe and alive. He’d vowed to always protect you and he vowed to never let you get hurt.

The tears spilled down his cheeks and the pain in his heart grew. He took your face in his free hand and took a good look at his consequence. At his failure.

“Tell m-me this is just s-some cruel joke, w-wake up and tell me this isn’t real. I-it’s just a n-nightmare, right? Right?” Zhongli held you tightly with his head pressed against your chest. Nothing. He heard nothing.

You never blinked, you never looked up at him with that adorable giggle, and you never exclaimed it was a joke.

You really were gone.

***

How many years ago was that now? Almost a thousand? Zhongli had never gotten over your death and how could he? His first and only lover had been ripped away from him and he still hadn’t found the murderer.

There had been a significant change in Zhongli since then. He was much more reserved and defensive but he was also very protective of anyone he came to call a friend. Ever since losing you, he found it hard to love and care for people the same way.

There was a constant emptiness, a loneliness that never left. No matter how many friends surrounded him, he always felt empty. Food and drinks were tasteless and the world lacked color. No smile matched yours, no warmth matched yours, and he never found a pair of dazzling eyes such as yours. And he was sure he’d never see them again… or so he thought.

“Zhongli! Are you coming?” Yehara asked, making the man look toward her.

“Oh, sure. Let’s go.” Zhongli had met Yehara a few years ago and had helped her during a commission. She hadn’t been doing so well and he’d practically saved her. Ever since then, she stuck to him like glue. Although he wasn’t terribly fond of her from the beginning, he grew to like her. Once they were close enough, Zhongli finally opened up about you and your death.

Yehara swore she’d help solve the murder and wouldn’t rest until he knew. Zhongli had grown much closer to her than he anticipated. The relationship gave him complicated feelings, ones he didn't want to even deal with.

At first, he wondered if he had feelings for Yehara or else why did he feel so comfortable with her? Why did he feel so safe? Why did he often find himself seeking her out when he felt alone? He was scared because you were long gone but for him it was just yesterday. Zhongli didn't want to move on, no matter how healthy it was. He only wanted you, nobody else. Not Yehara, not another archon, no one but you.

There were many things he felt with you that he didn’t with Yehara. Her smile didn’t light up his world, her laughter didn’t echo in his ears, her hugs didn’t leave him tingling, and her words never stayed with him for more than a minute.

There were many nights he spent thinking about himself and Yehara. Was he in love with her? It took some time, but he eventually came to the conclusion that didn’t. He hoped she didn’t either.

“Zhongli! Stop dozing off!” Yehara said, making him look down. He chuckled and patted her head, before looking away.

“Sorry, sorry. It won’t happen ag-” Zhongli stopped abruptly, his golden-orange eyes widened. No…

“Oh come on Zhongli, you just said this wouldn’t happen again.” Yehara huffed and followed his gaze. He was looking into a group of people but after a few moments, her red eyes widened as well.

A person, looking EXACTLY like you was smelling some flowers at a stall. You smiled and Zhongli’s heart sped up immediately.

“It’s them… that’s my (f/n)... I know it.” The archon whispered.

“That can’t be… I thought…” Yehara looked at Zhongli only to look back at you. The duo watched as you nodded and purchased the flowers and turned towards them. When your eyes landed on them you froze, almost as if you’d seen a ghost.

“They saw us.” Yehara gasped, bringing Zhongli out of his trance. You did. You were looking directly at him with the same look of shock. Without wasting any more time, you ran towards him and stopped right in front of them. Zhongli’s heart was beating out of his chest and he clenched his hands. Why were you looking at him like that?

“You’re… Zhongli, right? I’m (y/f/n)... I know you from my dreams.”

“Dreams?” Yehara asked and you nodded, giving her a soft smile. You were more beautiful than Zhongli had described. She could see why he was so infatuated.

“I began dreaming about you when I turned 20.” That was an odd coincidence, since you were 20 when he first asked you to be his.

“You… know me?”

“I do. I only know things from dreams and as dreams not memories… but since you’re here in front of me, there has to be some truth to them. So will you tell me more?” A smile of relief appeared on his lips and he nodded.

“Of course, anything for you… my (f/n).”

[sunaswife]

𝕻𝖗𝖔𝖌𝖗𝖆𝖒𝖒𝖊𝖉 𝖋𝖔𝖗 𝖍𝖎𝖒

Shigaraki X f! Reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, brainwashed/ programmed reader, implied kidnapping, Dom/sub, use of the word ‘pet’ and ‘master’, first time sex, uh..does this count as yandere..? Idk lol

🔪: this is like my second time writing smut so I’m sorry if it’s bad 🙇‍♀️ plz don’t spank me. N E Wayz I dedicate this fic to @aoi-turtle 🖤 and Any other shiggy whores out there

Edit: I FORGOT TO TAG @dinablossom and @toworuu IM SO SORRY BSVAKAGSJA

Summary: Imagine being programmed to be the leagues healer but also Shigaraki’s little cum bucket

♡︎☠︎︎♡︎☠︎︎♡︎☠︎︎♡︎☠︎︎♡︎☠︎︎♡︎☠︎︎♡︎☠︎︎♡︎☠︎︎♡︎☠︎︎♡︎☠︎︎♡︎☠︎︎♡︎☠︎︎♡︎☠︎︎

“Master what is the meaning of this.” Shigaraki looked at the television screen as he scratched his neck. “I took her quirk and made it a thousand times better.” He said simply. “Tomura shigaraki where should I place her?” Kurogiri asked. “Anywhere. I don’t care. I just don’t understand why you brought a stupid hero here.” He said annoyed.

“Now now—“ “Shut up and put her somewhere out of my sight!” Tomura demanded and Kurogiri sighed and carried your body to the spare room by shigaraki’s private quarters. You looked dead, you were exhausted, traumatized, in shock.

You were frozen. Your eyes stayed open, unblinking as you stared at the ceiling. It looked as if you were dead. But your body is warm and you were breathing, you’re alive and you’ll recover quick. Thanks to the quirk All for One fixed for you.

Dabi smirked at your ruined form. Spinner hid his rosy cheeks, you were a cute one. Toga was excited to have another girl in the league she talked with Twice about all the fun things you two could do together. Whether it be painting your nails, doing your hair, torturing someone, or making them bleed. She was excited.

“What’s so good about her quirk that you needed it.” Shigaraki asked. “It’s come to my attention that the league has been missing an important puzzle piece.” He started off. “Yeah? What’s that?” The light blue haired man asked. He was beyond ticked off to have a hero here. “She’s not a hero. She was training under UA’s school nurse. But she fell into the hero course for recovery and first aid training.” He said and everyone stayed silent and patiently listened to the brain behind the league.

“Her quirk is pyrokinetic regeneration. She manipulates fire with the energy of the person who needs healing and together she heals with so called fire. Her quirk was small, only a few cuts a bruises here and there could she heal. But I added cell regeneration so she can even fix up deep wounds that could need surgery in a matter of days instead of months.”

“Sounds amazing! No she could use her fire against us!” Twice said and Toga nodded. “She won’t. Her fire doesn’t burn unless you’re hurt.” Kurogiri returned. “But she’s still a hero brat so wouldn’t she try to resist?” Dabi asked. “I don’t know but let me try and see!” Toga giggled and pulled out a knife she easily slit her wrist and skipped her way to your new room.

Out of curiosity the other members followed suit. Shigaraki first, he wanted to see if you were truly useful if not then he’d disintegrate you right here and now. “Hi hi new friend! My name is Toga!” The psychotic girl giggle as her blood dripped all over the floor. You looked up slowly from your spot on the bed. “H-hi...T-toga..” your voice was low. “Kurogiri Can you bring her some water?” Toga asked and he left and came back in the blink of an eye.

Your hands were shaking for the cup of water but Toga held it back, away from you. “If you want the water then heal my wrist first.” She said sweetly with a giggle. “Heal your wrist?” You whispered and she nodded. “O-okay..” you stuttered and you slowly removed the blanket from your lap. You stood up with wobbly legs to go to the girl but you fell. The chain on your ankle pulled you back. You winced and looked at her, pleading for her to come to you. She asked if you were okay and when you responded she shoved her bloody arm to your face. “Take a deep breath. This may sting...” you started and a small green flame came upon your hand. You rubbed the flame over both of your hands like you were putting on lotion, finally when the flames covered both hands you pressed hard on her wrist. She winced, “ow ow ow.” She whimpered, you removed your hands and everyone stared at the flame around her whole wrist. “Give it thirty seconds....or not...” you said as you stared wide eyed at her already healed cut. It was barley a touch and it’s gone now. “Wow. No scar!” She giggled and turned to show the guys. “Wow stab me next, please don’t or else I’ll bite ya!” Twice said and you reached for the water. “Interesting.” Shigaraki mumbled with a small squint. Kurogiri looked over and hoped he wouldn’t do anything bad to you.

“Shows over. She needs her rest.” Kurogiri said and everyone left one by one. Toga gave her a hug and wished for you both to be the best of friends and she skipped away. “Tomura Shigaraki. What are you thinking?” Kurogiri asked as Shigaraki began to walk into your room. “Nothing that concerns you.” He spat and slammed the door. Kurogiri sighed but returned to the bar nonetheless.

“Do you know who I am?” Shigaraki asked, “Yes you’re the leader of the league of villains, You’re name is Tomura Shigaraki and your quirk is decay—“ “that’s enough!” He raised his voice and looked at you with wide eyes.

You looked so sad and you glanced down at your cup. “Mr. shigaraki I know I don’t usually talk this much. I’ve always been the quiet type. I think whoever kidnapped me gave me a huge sense of knowledge. I know the league is bad but I don’t care about the heroes anymore and I don’t know why. I know everything about you guys, your true identity, your quirks, your past. And when I see you I—“ you quickly stopped yourself.

Shigaraki raised a brow. “You what?” He asked curiously. “N-nothing. Just forget it.” You answered and he growled. “Answer me now before I kill you.” He said and your legs subconsciously clenched together. You stayed quiet and your chest rose and fell a little more quickly. Why was this feeling in your chest when this killer, this man child looked at you? What exactly did the man he calls master do to you?

Before you knew it he gripped your chin and lifted it harshly so you could look at his wrinkly red eyes. Even though he looks like a bum he smelled nice and clean. A hand was covering his face and you slowly lifted your hand to touch it and his other hand grabbed your wrist. “What the fuck are you doing? Do you have a death wish you fucking idiot?” He growled and you gulped. “C-can i see your face?” You asked and he tilted his head confused.

“No. Answer my question-“ before you both knew it, as if your body had a mind of its own you tackled shigaraki down and you snatched the hand off his face. His hand quickly wrapped around your neck and arm and you pressed your lips against his. He halted his finger from pressing against your neck. He was beyond confused.

“If only tomura finished listening to what i had to say.” All for one chuckled loudly. You both were able to faintly hear the television from down the hall. “He would know that I managed to change y/N’s desires and whole way of thinking. She’s now with the league of Villains and she’s in love with its leader, Tomura Shigaraki. Consider it a present and motivation for the future of the league.” You both heard and you pulled away from him. “I’m sorry. I should have asked.” You said lowly. He stood there stunned and silent.

He slowly sat up and looked at your figure. “So you were brainwashed like my Nomu.” He hummed and took a few steps back. He noticed how you crawled closer to him but the chain was keeping you away.

“Who do you love?”

“You.”

“Who do you belong to?”

“You.”

“Who’s your master?”

“Tomura Shigaraki.”

You said and he smirked. He was gonna have fun with you. “At least master was kind enough to give me a beauty.” He said as he held on to the chains. “Don’t freak out.” He warned and you nodded. He disintegrated the chain around your ankle and he pulled you by the arm. You were wearing an ugly hospital gown and you were barefoot. You couldn’t help but shiver. He went next door to his room and he shoved you in and slammed the door. You nearly tripped over the mess and you turned to look at shiggy. “Why are you just standing there?” He asked, “You haven’t given me orders.” You deadpanned. “You can’t think for yourself?” He questioned. “No i can but I Don’t want to upset you.” You replied.

“Fine then clean this shit up.” He referred to his very very messy room. You nodded and began to lift up a piece of trash but he pulled you away. “Change first.” He said and handed you a black hoodie. “Do you have a bathroom?” You asked. “No change here.” He said and you nodded. You turned so your back was facing him and carefully began to take off the gown, leaving you completely bare and Shigaraki couldn’t help but look.

Your skin was so beautiful and looked so soft. He saw as you carefully put on his hoodie and it completely engulfed you. It reached to your mid thigh. You slowly turned to look at him with rosy cheeks. The hoodie smelled just like him. “Tomura—“ “It’s master to you.” He Interrupted and you nodded, subconsciously squeezing your thighs together once more. “Sorry...m-master.” You said and played with the hem of his hoodie.

“Master..can I have some underwear too...? I feel weird, when I’m bare underneath..” you asked. “No, continue cleaning my room.” He answered coldly and sat on his gaming chair. He turned on his console and began playing whatever game he had.

You sighed and you couldn’t help but admire his gorgeous yet scarred face and his beautiful long fingers. In an instant he can kill you, but if you’re good..then he might even reward you. If you were to die, I’d rather be in the hands of your master than anyone else.

You quickly began you pick up the instant ramen bowls and bags of chips. You separated recycling and trash. You even managed to pick up all his dirty clothes and put it in the hamper in less than an hour. Tomura was stunned, one minute he can barley walk in, the next It’s almost spotless. He saw you from the corner of his eye, you were folding his clothes that practically had the same color scheme.

“Can i go through your drawers to put your clothes away..?” You finally spoke up. “Yeah it’s whatever. I don’t care.” He mumbled and returned to the screen. “Ugh stupid game!” He huffed and began pressing the controller more furiously. You chuckled and thought that it was so cute and adorable when he was frustrated.

You went to his California king sized bed and began to fix the sheets and make his bed. Since it was so huge, you had to climb on to properly fix it. You were completely in your own world when Shigaraki turned and saw your wet cunt on display in all it’s glory. Ever since he saw you he couldn’t help but feel that urge to take you. His resistance was getting to him and now he wanted to give in to his urges even more. He was too distracted that he lost the fucking game and he growled and disintegrated the controller. That was his own form of rage quitting.

You heard his sound of frustration so when you turned you expected him to be in the same chair uttering bullshit, but you were shocked when you felt your hips being pulled back. Your cunt was touching his pants, but you can feel his bulge. “Um..master..I—“

“Shut up.” He said and reached for your neck. He pulled you back to him and wrapped his other arm around your waist, hovering your aching clit. “This is whats gonna happen.” He started off and you nodded. “I’m going to fuck you. And you’re going to like it. Okay?”

“I understand.” You said softly, you felt his hands slowly lift up the hoodie just a bit to get a better view of your ass. You couldn’t help but feel slightly embarrassed. “I know I’m probably not your dream girl but I promise to be a good girl, master..” your voice shook. He tilted his head, were you getting insecure?

“No pet, you’re perfect to me.” He assured and you could hear his belt jingle as he took it off. “You seem pretty wet already, pet. Since how long have you been like this?” He asked as he got out of his jeans. He slowly open your cheeks to reveal your little pussy clenching around nothing, how cute. “Since I saw you..” you mumbled. He smirked and leaned down. He immediately began to eat out your cunt causing you to gasp in shock and grip the sheets. Your chest layed roughly against the bed as your ass stood proud in the air for the leader of the league of villains to enjoy.

“Fuck—“ you moaned and you felt a slap on your ass. You slightly jumped released a small yelp. “Watch your language.” He growled from your pussy. “Yes master.” You whimpered and he slowly began to rub his thumb on your other hole. Your small moans filled the room and he easily slipped his middle finger in you. You squeezed around him so deliciously, he couldn’t help but wished his cock was inside.

This has never happened to him before, this feeling in his chest. Someone that loves him and will obey his every command. You’re so beautiful as well, and your sounds. Your moans and whimpers, in all honesty he jut wanted to get himself off. But after hearing you and seeing you. He wants to make sure you have pleasure as well.

He continued pumping his finger in and out of your slick walls and your voice started getting slightly higher. “Master...I—I’m gonna cum...”you panted and your toes began to curl. “It’s okay, cum for me, pet. You’ve been a good girl.” He said softly and he felt you clench around his finger. When you came he slowly removed his finger and examined it. You must be new to is if you could get off with just one of his long fingers.

You layed on the bed a bit tired, not paying attention to your master who had tasted your cum on his finger. It was delicious and he wanted another taste. When you felt a lick on your cunt again you immediately shivered and clenched your thighs. “Hold still I just wanna taste some cum.” Shigaraki huffed and he pulled your thighs apart. You were pretty sensitive but you obeyed nonetheless.

You moans began to fill the room once more and before you could finish and cum again he pulled away. You automatically whimpered and turned to give your master puppy dog eyes. “I would let you cum again, but my cock is so fucking hard I don’t think I can wait another minute.” he said and began to pull down his boxers.

Before you could get back in position, which freaking hurt, he flipped you over on your back and you made a small oof noise. You looked up to See shigaraki focused on his cock, he was rubbing himself up and down your slit to use your cum as lube. “Alright I’m going in.” He announced and slowly pushed his rather large member inside your tint cunt. You immediately yelped and held on to his biceps. “M-master wait—it hurts..” you pleaded and Tomura finally looked up at your face.

He loves inflicting pain, he loves watching people’s painful expressions when they’re hurt or when they’re gonna die. Chisaki’s face was so amusing. But when he saw yours, his heart shattered and he didn’t want to hurt you at all. You’ve been nothing but good to him, he doesn’t want to hurt his little toy. “I’m sorry.” He apologized, “it’s okay..” you sniffled. After a minute of him being patient you gave him a nod and he continued to slowly bottom out.

You both released a moan when he was all the way in. You both have never felt anything like this before. “Can I start moving?” Shigaraki asked you as he brushed way the hair from your face. You nodded and he pulled almost all the way out and he slammed back in. Your little gasps and moans came back which made shigaraki feel at ease. You can clearly hear your slick with every thrust and it was music to his ears.

“I’ve been neglecting these.” He grunted and lifted his hoodie over your chest. Finally he was able to see your beautiful soft breasts bouncing with each thrust. “Fuck you’re so beautiful.” He moaned and immediately lowered his mouth to one of your nipples. You squealed and your back arched and he pushed you down. “Master...” you moaned softly. His tongue swirled around your hardened bud and your fingers tangled in his light blue hair. Two of his fingers pinched your other nipple and he lightly bit the nipple in his mouth.

“I think I-I’m close—“ you gasped and he removed his mouth. His thrusts decreased in speed but they became harder. He had a stupid smirk on his face and your eyes widened when he wrapped his hand around your throat. “Hold it until I say so.” He demanded and you muttered a weak yes. He felt how your gummy walls squeezed against his large dick, he was getting close too. “Fuck Fuck Fuck.” He groaned with his head tilted back and your mouth watered at the sight. Why is he so fucking handsome?

He could feel himself getting closer to his climax so he rubbed his thumb on you clit while increasing his pace once more, causing you to be even louder than before. Everyone in the bar could hear and a certain fire villian grumbled in annoyance. “Master I can’t hold it anymore!” You screamed. “Then cum my stupid little pet. Cum all over my cock like a good girl.” He grunted and bit his lip at the sight of your sweaty body. Your bouncing breasts, crazy hair, your adorable ahego face, your twitching legs and finally your grip on his biceps. You were so prefect and so good to him and only him.

When you came you felt his cum shoot inside you as well causing you to gasp at the delicious feeling. Tomura rested his head on your shoulder and tried catching his breath. You couldn’t help but smile and blush at the closeness. You slowly wrapped your arms around him and you gave his shoulder a kiss causing him to freeze. “I love you master, thank you for making me feel good.” You said softly. He chuckled and pulled you closer, “I love you too.”

I wanna write a part 2 of Shiggy finding out his little toy is being used by a certain fire boy 👀

[alice-chan-chan]

Did I do something wrong? Why do you like my stuff only, instead of reblogging them?

Since you decided to ask me as anon, I can only guess. I usually like, but not reblog when I want to show that I appreciate a person's work but don't quite like its source (an anime, a manga, a character, etc) or something about it makes me uncomfortable (the contents is too tragic, too bloody, or something else disturbs me). For example, I dont like Kuroshitsuji, so I most likely wont reblog anything related to it. But if I see a Kuroshitsuji edit, gifset or art, I am very likely to like it if it's nice, especially if it is a mutual's work.

Please do not be offended! If I liked and didn't reblog some of your works, it just means that it is not my cup of tea for some reason but I am impressed by the work itself and wanted to give you some credit for it. :)

And of course there are more possibilities. Sometimes I like posts and plan to reblog them later (by visiting my likes page), but forget about it. Sometimes I like posts featuring an anime episode that I haven't watched yet and plan to watch it, then reblog those posts as they show up on my dash again.

And on top of that, tumblr has been working rather weirdly for me recently, which is why I reblog less than usual. Everything is loading too slowly, which is very upsetting. =/

To conclude, Idk what exactly was the reason, but I didn't intend to offend you. I am very chaotic, especially when it comes to my blog.

Sometimes, however, it happens so that I had followed someone and then chose to unfollow them for some reason. There were at least 2 times when I unfollowed people who suddenly reblogged some very questionable and offensive stuff about my country. I didnt want to start a politics discourse with them, so I just chose to silently disappear. Idk, it might have been not very nice of me, but I wasnt comfortable with starting to argue and couldnt just let it slide. Both cases were quite a long time ago though, and I doubt that I like posts of those people now. =/

I also remember ufollowing a girl who recreated other people's gif sets very closely. She probably doesnt do this anymore but our ways parted and I dont know her current url. It all happened quite a long time ago, too.

So, I think that you are not likely to be one of those 3 people, if you say that I like your works... There is nothing to worry about!

Sorry for writing such a long reply, I just wanted to clarify everything as much as I can. I am sad that you are sad about me not reblogging your posts and I hope that it will get better. For example, you can make something with Gojou Satoru and post it, the chances that I will reblog it are 200%, and 80% that I will reblog it more than once. :) I am joking of course, please continue working on anything that you want to, and I'll eventually reblog it!

[aria-chicken-flugget]

MC reacts to The Brothers (+Undateables)

In a crop top ~ Yum

Due to the *NSFW undertones, I will NOT be writing any for Luke, obviously.

Sorry this took me ages haha i ran out of creativity for these. On that note, let’s jump straight in 😉

The Undateables

~

Simeon 😇

Similarly to Beel, will not see your request as anything unsavoury you cheeky thing, you

“What is a ... ‘cropped top’?”

Basically wears them anyway

Is used to showing a little skin, so would think nothing of it

After all, God intended Human Beings to be naked, so this is not weird

The only thing odd about it, is that you specifically requested it

He still wouldnt see it in that way tho lol

The one he’d wear wouldn’t surprise you, because it’s not too dissimilar to what he normally wears around RAD

Black, sleek and skin tight - sleeveless to reveal his perfectly sculpted shoulders and with a high neck - cerulean blue accents to match his eyes

Your jaw fell slack at how attractive it looked on him

His piercing blue eyes crinkled as he smiled, “I guess this one suits me, then?”

Oop - ah well, who cares if he knows your staring?

He’s an angel ffs - of course he looks amazing

“You...” you couldn’t seem to find the words to encompass what the mere sight of him did to you

His face would fall a moment, “is something wrong, MC?”

You’d flush, shaking your head with a nervous laugh, “No... well, God probably wouldn’t forgive me for thinking it but -“

You can’t bring yourself to finish that sentence

Fairly certain he was aware of where your thoughts were headed, his cheeks would tinge rouge

He’d play Innocent TM as not to blur the line or complicate things...

You’d make it ducking difficult though

Yes i said ducking, Simeon is an Angel he legally cannot say fuck

It’s just... the way you were ogling him, undressing him with your beautiful and captivating eyes... fjdlficjsn

His chest would tighten, breath caught and heart in his throat

He was well aware what that feeling was, his brows downturned at the thought

“Is something wrong, Simeon?”

He’d hold a hand up, gently but firm, “No, i’m alright, thank you.”

You can’t help but feel a little guilty... after all you did just have certain thoughts about an Angel

Seeing your crestfallen face, he’d immediately snap to - gently reaching for your hand with that crinkly eyes smile,

“Don’t look so glum, MC. Everything’s alright.”

He was simply radiant, you couldnt help but return that smile

Depending on what floats your boat, i’ll let you imagine what the outcome was

Solomon 🧙‍♂️

Hahah oh boy...

“Oh? And why would you want me to wear that?” ;) TEASE

Would give That Smirk TM

This could literally go one of two ways:

One, he wears a cute cropped T and says “Well, what were you expecting from me?” ;) TEEAASSEE

He knows God damn well what you were expecting lmao

OR

Quite literally wears some leather skin tight crop that shows off all his tatts, all his packs and muscles... like dayum haha

Either way you’re speechless

He is one cocky lil shit, he’d love it

“Finally i’ve drawn your attention from those brothers, have i?” “Wh-what?!” “;)”

Nosebleed

“I’d like to request you wear one too, it’s only fair after all.”

Whilst having you gently ensnared against a wall between his palms, with those eyes entrancing you to keep you there

You’d never seen him in that light so deeply than after your request

Your eyes trail his form once again, surprisingly more muscular than you’d anticipated from under the RAD uniform

You’d flush from under his gaze, not quite sure where to look, what to say -

“Cat got your tongue?” Ajsksknxdn

He’d need want to hear you say it.

“I - i didn’t realise you’d tease me about it.” You look away with rosy cheeks

His teasing smile would falter a moment, asking more seriously, “why would you ask me to wear a crop top?”

You’d find his gaze, tongue tied for an answer

You’d swallow from under his penetrating gaze that seemed more serious than before

“I...” why did you ask him again?

“I just... wanted to see it.” “‘It’? That’s not very specific.” Ahsksknsk LOL such a tease

You’d hate that he made you admit it, you forced through gritted teeth, “I wanted to see what you looked like in a crop, what more do you want me to say?”

His smirk tugging on his handsome lips again before warm breath carasses the shell of your ear, “I want to see what you look like too.”

Lmao #Exposed

Nosebleed 2.0

Barbatos 🕰

Yo, you would have some mad guts to request it when he’s working hahah

He would instantly flush and comment calmly how inappropriate your request is

Diavolo would laugh if he heard your request and his reponse from beside you both

But if you were alone with him, perhaps a little closer to him...

I stand by the fact i think ‘Barbietos’ is a Dark Horse TM

This man has a dark side lowkey yandere vibes maybe? Idk yet need to see more of him tbh

if you’re close and you ask, similarly to Solomon he’d smirk and tease

Barbatos is sarcastic but he wouldn’t snark you for this, especially with your blushing features

He’d utter your name, before finally mustering the strength to ask, “what kind of cropped top do you want me to wear?”

You’d have to be immensely private about it, ofc he can have a private life but he is literally at the service of the Prince of that realm

Not just the crop top request etc, the entire relationship would be kept under radar for a long time

I can see his crop being loose, the satin like material draped tastefully from his shoulders and revealing his midriff

The emerald green colour so dark you thought it was black until you saw it’s sheen under the light

You might have already seen his body at this point but you can’t help absorbing his features like a sponge

His abdominal muscles, his strong shoulders... he was also much stronger than he looked under a uniform

He’d stand before you, as you rise to your knees upon his sheets, eye level with his chest

“Tonight, I could serve you for a change.”

He’s probably not as quiet as we think

Diavolo 👑

If Lucifer ever heard about your request, you’ll be out of the Devildom faster than you can say Demonus

You’d have to be incredibly brave and or stupid to even ask in the first place...

However, Diavolo wouldn’t actually mind, “come now Lucifer! It’s a fashion trend in their realm! It sounds fun!” With That Laugh TM

Diavolo is actually pretty lonely, loads of people feel they can’t approach him so he’d acc happy that you felt you could ask that of him

If you were closer than that, you’d be visiting the palace upon his request

If and when you’re alone, you’d ask him to wear one

He still wouldn’t initially see it in that way, his own demon form is shirtless

“I’d like to try one! Have you any ideas in mind?”

After understanding the nature of your request, something will flash passed in those golden irises

“I see... so this garment will grant you a certain gratification?” BLUSH

It’s not secret that Diavolo is the biggest demon, he is one big muscle machine

You’d struggle to find a crop that fit him ngl

he’d have one custom made from your design idea

You’d want him in a maroon or black one, specked with elements of gold to match his eyes

It would be snug due to his size, seeing every inch of muscle from underneath like a marble sculputre

There was something so.. awe inspiringly beautiful about it your breath stopped short

Any prior thought was lost as you silently trace the edges of him with your eyes

“Do you like it?” :) - well... duh haha

“What are you doing still standing over there?”

All would fall silent save for faint breaths and the steady beating of your hearts as you trace the crop’s fabric with your fingertips

He’s surprisingly soften as he’d watch you doing so

He’d wrap his strong arms around you, gentle fingertips stroking your hair

he’d murmur “I’m pleased you like it.”

Soft kisses planted on your forehead and you’re a goner - putty in his arms

“Might I ask... would you wear one?”

You bloody well would lmao

Might edit these later and need to link to the brothers one but hey ho, enjoy! ✨

[silent-scythe]

True Winter

Hi y’all! Technically, I should be doing world history homework, but I’m not. No, I wrote angsty Cassian fanfiction. 

This is crossposted onto AO3. I also started writing this during class and it’s not really edited, so my apologies for all the tense changes and any grammatical or spelling errors. 

Anyways, I really hope y’all like it. This takes place when Cassian is little and dumped at Windhaven- he was like 5 for something? Idk, but I just wanted to write a short little something about it lmao. 

Warnings: very mild cursing 

༺༻

When people think of snow, they often think of wonderland. They imagine the tall, powerful pine trees with snow piled on top, little flecks of dark green representing the branches that peeked through. They imagine the icicles that dangle from the roofs of bungalows and townhouses. They imagine powdery snowflakes and snowball fights. They imagine a world turned to bliss, playful by day and serene at night. They imagine the coziness of winter, snuggled in their warm homes with warm drinks and warm clothes and warm hearts. 

But what happens when they don’t get that privilege? When they instead, have to live outside, cold, shuddering at the freezing temperatures, fingers frozen, stomachs twisting in hunger?

There is a little boy. 

He’s not a little boy now. No, he is a courageous, compassionate and loving male with a family and friends. But before that, he was just a bastard-born boy with hopes shattered like ice in the frigid grasp of death. 

And he tells the story of true winter. 

༺༻

Winter comes again, but it’s different.

It is harsh, the snow. 

Cassian doesn’t like it. Hates it, even. Past winters had been spent with his mother, in front of a crackling fire pit, not alone in a camp full of people who hate him. He flinches at that thought, remembering all too clearly the last insult hurled at his face. 

He hasn’t experienced an Illyrian winter yet, at least not one by himself, alone, tossed outside like a rag, left to become dust in the wind. 

He trudges through the snow that has already reached his calves, his worn leather boots near tattered. He can feel the cold seep through the fabric, settling deep into his bones. 

I need a new pair of shoes, he realizes. And food, water, maybe a blanket or warmer clothes. 

He is but a boy right now, short and somewhat clumsy, although still more lithe than the average Illyrian, having spent his entire life fighting to live. His hazel eyes are round, with the type of innocence that seems both naive and old beyond his years. His hair is wild, tangled, and already down to his shoulders- he can’t remember the last time he got a haircut. 

He doesn’t want to. Haircuts remind him of a different time. A time with warmth and cozy beds and delicious food and love. A time with his mother. 

Cassian banishes the thought away, instead focusing on his task. Food, shoes, and something warm. 

He shakes his wings, the light snow that dusted them falling off with the action. He clenches his small hands into fists, trying to keep warm, since he doesn’t have any gloves, either. 

Cassian walks into the main parts of Windhaven, and the bloodied, crimson and gold sun rises. 

A new day starts. 

༺༻

Night is falling by the time he reaches his tent, which is on the outskirts of the camp, close to the forest. Cassian had heard tales before, tales of the creatures who prowled and hunted at night. He shudders at the thought. 

He calls his home a tent, but it really isn’t. It is made with fabric- the material that the tents were made from- that he took from someone after beating them in a fight. He had found a tall pine tree to mark his home. Then, he had dragged bricks, mud, and rocks from around camp to his makeshift house, building a single wall besides the tree, then he had draped the tent-fabric diagonally from it, securing it to the ground with nails that he found. It is lopsided, falling apart, and beyond dirty, but it will have to make do, at least for now. 

It is small and Cassian doesn’t mind, for he doesn’t have much with him. He is a bastard after all, thrown here into the mud with nothing, the tears on his face not yet dried. He has a small storage of food in one corner that he saves for the worst blizzards, the one he hears about from the adult Illyrians, the ones he knows are coming soon, and a change of clothes in the other corner. A bed is in the center, although it really isn’t a bed- just furs that lined the cold, hard ground, giving him something to help keep him warm during the dead of night. 

Cassian sighs and wonders if he will ever be able to sleep in a real bed one day. “It’s unfair,” he yells into his shabby home. “It’s unfair that I’m just a little boy, yet I have to go through all of this shit!” 

He is answered only by the howling winds.

Shit is a new word he learned a few days ago. Cassian doesn’t know if he used it correctly, but he doesn’t care. 

In his left hand is a big piece of fur. He thinks it's fur from the deer that reside nearby, although he doesn’t know. He is lucky to get his hands on it- a female Illyrian had given it to him, her face softened in sorrow. In Cassian’s right hand is a makeshift bag, which is really a square cloth that he uses to hold the food he manages to get everyday. Today, he has a decently-sized piece of jerky and something that probably used to be bread. 

“It’s food,” he says firmly, to himself. “I don’t care what it looks like, it’s food.” 

He adds the fur to his bed and sits atop it. He puts the bread to one side and breaks the jerky, taking a smaller piece and putting the rest in his little pile of stocked-up food, saving it for later. Just in case. 

There is a bowl next to him, with water inside that he collects every morning from dew-ridden moss and any clean puddles he can find, and if he has time, he goes to the pond to collect fresh water there. He takes a gulp of it and starts eating. 

Cassian finishes the food far faster than he wants to. His stomach is still making knots, still unfilled, but he pretends not to notice. 

Instead, he shuffles to the side, towards the short wall he made a year ago, the wall of bricks and stone that would probably fall if you kicked it too hard. He finds the little nook in between two rocks, and he pulls out a small black box. 

In the box is a golden necklace with a ruby attached to it. It is probably the only clean thing he has in his possession. He dares not touch the jewel, for fear he might dirty it. 

Cassian holds it close to his chest. 

“Hi mom,” he whispers. 

“I miss you. The other boys will laugh at me if they knew I talked to a necklace, but you’re the only friend I have. It’s cold here, and I’m starving,” he complains. 

“I wish you would find me already. I know they held you back and they took me here, and I know it’s already been a year, but I believe in you. I know you’ll find me, and you’ll give me a warm hug and a kiss. 

“Please find me, please. I miss you so much, mama. I hope you miss me too. They don’t like me here. The boys spit on me and bully me, but I have to endure it, since I need to survive. Endure is a new word I learned today. Devlon told me to endure. Well actually, he told me to endure or else I would get killed.”

Cassian’s eyes are teary. 

“I miss you, mama. I love you.”

Then Cassian closes the box and he goes to sleep.

༺༻

Two weeks pass, and the brutality of true winter sets in. It’s worse than what Cassian imagined.

There are less and less boys he can fight with and take food from. His stockpile of food is down to nearly nothing, and the latest blizzard made it near impossible for him to get out of his tent, which has surprisingly managed to stay up despite the heavy snow. 

Cassian is shivering, and he hasn’t eaten in days, not willing to waste his food.

He doesn’t know if he can make it through winter, especially considering it has only just started. He tries to remember a face. He tries so hard to conjure a face with fiery hazel eyes, long, wavy black hair, and soft lips, but his mother’s face becomes blurrier every day. 

The boy is losing hope. 

༺༻

More days pass, and the boy grows thinner, eyes duller.

The boy lost any semblance of hope. 

He no longer talks to the box. 

༺༻

Thanks for reading! I’d love to hear your comments and opinions, they make my day. Also, if you want to be tagged when I write more fanfiction (about Nesta, Cassian, or Nessian), comment in the notes :0 

- Scythe 

[knybits]

Not to spam you bUT if you legally cannot refuse making a part 2 to the Zenitsu soulmate au,,,, what if I ask you to continue it 😳😳😳😳,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, (jokes aside do it only if you want to didbdodbdkd I'm just a local Zenitsu stan who's DYING for content)

me, obviously distressed w a water gun to my head: yall anon forced me to,,, i tried to find a legal slip but they,,, i- i had to write it,,,,

lmaoooo jokes aside i thought this would take me longer to write but it??? didnt??? love this boy uwu and i hope yall like it! its longer?? idk why i let it get out of control LMAO (also i didnt edit it but ill do that later) and kinda wack personality reader has but also i tried to make it enjoyable all the same! 💕

Soulmate!Au Zenitsu x reader (part 2!)

“Good. You’re alive.” 

Every muscle in Zenitsu’s body relaxes, for your voice loosens all tension he holds and he feels as if his body is slowly being dipped in honey. 

“Don’t move. You fought bravely, my love.” 

Zenitsu is more than upset that he can’t seem to focus on your face, but he’s well enough to zero in on your voice. 

Your arms gently hoist his body up and you’re cradling your soulmate, his voice no longer invading your head as you stare at him with soft eyes. 

To say that you feel guilty is an understatement. 

Your control over the bond you and your soulmate has is much stronger than his hold over the connection, as you can feel his emotions and know what to say to draw the two of you closer. 

But by feeling his emotions, you can feel all the fear he’s felt. All the devastation. All his pain. His righteousness to endure his own suffering in hopes that you survive. 

You hug Zenitsu’s body closer to your own as Shinobu walks up to you, a placid smile gracing her features. 

“The antidote, please.” You mutter softly, and Shinobu hands it over without much fuss. You’re thankful that she doesn’t ask questions, merely tilting her head in the general direction of the Butterfly Estate. You hum, give her smile worth a thousand words, then dash back to the estate. 

Zenitsu wakes up to the smell of miso and some god awful tea that he doesn’t take a real liking to. If he were Tanjirou, he would have woken up the minute it was brewed. 

Without a word of caution, you bring the cup of tea to Zenitsu’s lips, forcing him to stomach the medicine and eventually drink it all. The look on his face right after is enough for you to burst into laughter, ensuing a mad blush to cover your soulmate’s cheeks. 

“Sorry love, but that might have been the only way for you to drink your medicine. Feel any better?” You lean forward, connecting foreheads to check his temperature. 

Upon seeing his face, you back up with a satisfied smile. 

“Good! I’m glad I have a soulmate that can make that kind of face. I’ll be in your care.” 

Zenitsu wakes up to a different smell of stewed vegetables this time, and the first thing that comes out of his mouth is: 

“I fainted.” 

“Observant and cute! I got a real steal, hm?” 

Zenitsu yelps in his bed, nearly flying up a whole three feet before settling back into his bed. 

You’re calmly discarding some of the bandages wrapped around his arm, slathering an ointment for his damaged arms before rewrapping his bandages. Zenitsu doesn’t say anything, simply choosing to stare at you as he drinks your appearance in. 

“I’d tell you to take a picture so that it’d last longer, but those things are far too expensive for you to waste on me.” You chuckle humorously. 

The comment doesn’t go through Zenitsu head as he blurts out a quick, “I-I’ll pay for one anyway!” 

You pause in your wrapping, not expecting such an answer. Zenitsu can hear your quickened heartbeat for a mere second before it reverts back to normal and by the time he realizes what he’s said, you’ve moved onto his next arm. 

“S-Sorry. I’m not usually like this.” 

“I know. You tend to cling to a woman’s kimono and cry for her to marry you, right?” 

He can’t… deny that… 

“I’ll admit, what you said just now was the smoothest thing I think I’ve ever heard you say. So I’ll take it that I hold a higher priority than the women you’ve cried over.” 

“O-Of course! You’re my soulmate after all-” 

“So?” 

Zenitsu stops himself, genuinely shocked with your simple declaration. Your smile is still painted on your face, but Zenitsu can see now that there’s far more than meets the eye. Too bad his hearing is the only gifted sense he has. 

“I’m a pillar. I know you wanted a defenseless soulmate that you could protect. That you could come home to.” 

Zenitsu can feel himself sweat, and not in a good way. True, he wanted those things. But it’s different now. 

“Can I hold your hand?” 

You raise a brow at his odd request, but comply nonetheless. There’s a small shock that you feel and you chuckle. He’s still nervous, but you suppose that your questions did throw him off. 

“You-You’re right.” He grovels, and you loosen you hold enough for him to notice. He tightens his in turn before continuing, “But you’ve given me one less thing to be afraid of. I’ll come home to you, breathing and alive, and I’ll fight to stay alive for you, not just to protect you.” 

His resolve is different now. It’s not like the first time, when you had to encourage him to train. When you’d praise him for his kills or whisper sweet nothings under your breath to make sure he goes on his missions. You felt fake, not fully knowing your soulmate and yet leading him anyway. 

He’s beat up, bloody and bruised so that you could continue your mission peacefully, and that reminder is enough for you to know that he’s true to his word. 

You led out a monotone hum, a rare glint in your eye that Zenitsu catches, before you stand and walk out of the room. 

The next time Zenitsu wakes up, your lips are on his and he’s drinking the medicine from your mouth. 

He almost spits it out, but you press harder and he swallows it all down. 

“You-You-!!” 

“Sorry love!” You laugh, “But I think this is the only way for my soulmate to drink their medicine! And remember, I’ll be in your care!” 

Zenitsu can hear the wedding bells chime. 

[burtlederp]

Writing Blurb 2

Heyyyy this is actual whump! Got an idea for a thing, decided to write it out and post it for all y'all to enjoy. It's not my best piece of writing, but it's better than nothing.

TW minor gore, violence, blood, knives... uh idk, if I missed something, someone tell me lol. Hope y'all enjoy!

Moe leaned against the wall, huddled in a corner, eyes squeezed shut. His brown, shaggy hair lay in clumps on his bloodied head, his hands bound behind his back, chest rising and falling with shuddered gasps. Broken ribs made every lung of air agony, while his head throbbed, his sore, raw wrists protesting being tied back any longer. But he ignored the pain, just trying to focus.

The demon, the spirit, the ghost, the monster that haunted his mind had been so much louder since the torture had started. It howled and screamed and bellowed constantly, slamming its claws against the mental cage he had put it in. It wanted out. But Moe didn't want to lose his body, not to it. 

The door screeched open, causing Moe to flinch, pressing his cheek against the wall. "N-no…"

"Yep, I'm back," His captor said casually, shutting the door behind himself. "Did you miss me?" He asked sweetly, standing over Moe's weak and huddled form. His face soured when his captive didn't reply.

"Open your eyes and answer me," He growled, a hard slap connecting with Moe's exposed cheek. He gasped, not expecting it, and did as he was told, forcing himself to raise his head and look his captor in the eyes, lip quivering.

"P-please, no more…" He whispered, voice hoarse from screaming. He couldn't take it. Not anymore. He had had enough. One more waterboarding session, one more set of lashes or beatings, and he'd lose control. 

"Yeah, sorry. Not an option." The captor reached down and grabbed a handful of Moe's hair, yanking him to his feet. He whimpered, knees barely able to support himself, muscles weak. His captor smiled at him, turning his head slightly to see all of Moe's face.

"I like how you're looking, Momo." He nodded. "We're not quite there, but close," He suddenly yanked Moe's hair again, knocking Moe's skull against the concrete wall. He gave a choked gasp, sliding to the floor. 

"I just want to make sure, for this next video we send, you," The torturer punctuated his word with a kick to Moe's stomach, knocking the wind out of his chest. "Look," Another kick, right on top of the first. "Like," Yet another. "Hell." The captor hissed with glee, and his kick went higher, into Moe's upper chest. He coughed, gasping for air, curling into a ball, struggling to focus, but it was difficult when your brain wasn't receiving enough oxygen.

Breathe, Moe, Breathe… Don't… You can't let him win… He thought desperately, but the beast disagreed. 

Let me out, and I can save you from him, It tempted. Moe swallowed, peering weakly up at his captor, who was reaching for him.

"No…" He groaned, squeezing his eyes shut again as he was lifted by the shirt and dragged to the middle of the floor.

"Now let's see you, yes," He crouched, turning Moe's head side to side, rough fingers squeezing his bruised jaw. Moe clenched his teeth, trying to bite back tears. What was going to come next? How long would this last? Was anyone coming for him? 

"Oh, come now, you can cry," His captor's voice was full of false kindness, a hand gently brushing hair off of Moe's face. Moe looked up at him, heart pounding, trying to breathe without choking on blood. 

"Please… P-please… No more… I can't…" Moe begged, voice cracking. The captor pulled out a pocket knife, flipping out the blade, smiling as they leaned in close. 

"Y'know, you're rather handsome," He said, wiping blood off his captive's chin, who tried to pull away from his grasp in vain. "Too bad that won't be the case anymore. I want to know what you look like with a scar…" The knife's point pressed against the cheekbone, just below Moe's left eye. He whimpered, trying to jerk away.

"Ah-ah, don't move, or I might put out your eye," The captor warned, and Moe held still, eyes shut, tears beginning to well up, waiting, waiting, waiting for the knife to go in. 

Let me take the reins, A slimy voice said in the back of his mind.

"No…" Moe whispered, and the knife sunk into his flesh, causing Moe to let out a pained cry. 

I will protect you, The voice insisted. 

You won't, you won't, Moe tried to remind himself. "No, no, no…!" He wailed behind his teeth.

"Yes! Very yes," His captor grinned, dragging the knife down his face. Moe shrieked, trying to keep his jaw still. He felt hot, sticky blood, his own blood, flow down his face, pooling in his ear and crawling down to the back of his neck. He could feel his hands being crushed beneath him, bent and twisted in the wrong way, threatening to give at any second. His gasps only made everything worse, forcing broken ribs to expand with his chest, pulling the pieces further apart.

The captor twisted and yanked the knife out from Moe's jaw, prompting another gasp. Tears began to flow down his face. He couldn't help it. 

Let me out! The voice shouted. 

"No…" He moaned, and screamed as suddenly the knife was buried into his arm, and twisted. He arched his back, trying to pull away, but he couldn't, a hand painfully gripping his other arm to keep him in place. His captor was enjoying this, loving every second of Moe's pain. 

LET ME OUT!

"No!" Moe sobbed, and howled as the blade was removed, then was pierced through his ear. He couldn't do this. Moe just couldn't. 

LET ME OUT!!!

"No! No, I can't, please…" His breathing hitched with every sob, every breath a gasp for air. 

"We're almost done," His captor said softly, and began to drag the knife across Moe's forehead. 

LET ME OUT!!

Moe just cried, unable to fight anymore. He drew into himself, eyes stinging as blood flowed into them. 

"There," The captor leaned back, closing the knife. "You look half-dead. Perfect." He got to his feet. "I'll be back in a minute with the camera, you baby. Don't move an inch!" He laughed, exiting the room.

Moe lay on the floor, feeling his grip on the chains of the beast loosening. He couldn't do this. He couldn't. It was too much.

"I yield," He cried to the empty room. "I yield."

Steven hummed to himself, fiddling with the camera as he walked down the hallway. He had washed his hands, he had his cool mask, the tripod was tucked under his arm. He wouldn't film too much, he didn't really feel like editing today, all that was needed was an update, anyway. Keep the buyers aware that every second they weren't here, every moment they spent unable to find him, their friend was closer to death. 

He opened the door to the cell, cheerily calling to his captive. "Moooe, I'm ba--" He stopped. Moe wasn't here. There was blood on the floor, still fresh, where he had just been, but he himself was not in the room. Steven turned, looking down the hallway, feeling anger bubble in his stomach. How?! He thought, about to step back out, when a drop of warm liquid plopped onto his head. He stopped, reaching up to his face to gather the wet on his fingers. Pulling away, he found blood there. 

Steven looked up, and didn't have enough time to scream before a dark body slammed down on him, smashing him into the concrete floor. Teeth sunk into his shoulder, clawed fingers digging into his throat, but he wasn't able to cry out, all the air knocked from his lungs. The attacker yanked back, taking a chunk of Steven's flesh with them in their teeth. Feeling the grip of it loosen slightly, Steven scrambled free, cutting his hands on the sharp pieces of the broken camera as he crawled to the opposite wall, pressing himself against it as he tried to breathe. Finally able to see his attacker, he involuntarily shrieked in fear. 

There was his captive, but it wasn't. Moe sat, or rather crouched, but his eyes were black, glowing yellow rings set on their prey. His back had warped, a couple vertebrae too many now, his limbs seeming longer than before. His fingernails had disappeared, instead his fingers now giant, sharp claws. The bloodied, mutated form of Moe grinned at him with razor-sharp, needle-like teeth, holding his flesh in its mouth.

It suddenly stood--yes, it was definitely taller now, its feet had grown longer and were clawed too--staring down at Steven. The light behind its head, he could only see the yellow circles of its pupils, the rest of its face in shadow. He heard it swallow.

"It's been a looong time since I was in control," Moe's voice came from it as it stretched, but it was drier, raspier, more sinister. "Feels nice, I'll admit. I see why you were enjoying it." Blood dribbled down its face and its neck, from new cuts and from its lips.

Steven stared up at the monster in fear, wishing he could sink into the floor. He hadn't prepared for this. He had no plan. But he wasn't going to die without a fight. He swiped his leg under those of the monster, knocking it off balance. It stumbled to the side as Steven pushed himself off the wall, staggering out of the cell as fast as he could, breathing hard, holding his shoulder with one hand. Blood was already spilled down his front, but he ignored the pain of it. He had to run, he had to get away.

He heard the sound of clawed feet scraping against the ground, heard snarls of something inhuman behind him. He tried to run faster, but it felt like a bad dream, the sounds getting closer no matter how fast he ran. He screamed, panic rising up into his throat. He was silenced abruptly as he was tackled, those awful, wicked clawed hands wrapping around his throat, tight enough to cut off air. He struggled, flailing in the beast's grip, but it was so much stronger now. It turned him over, staring down at him with those terrible eyes, that horrifying grin. It moved its hands, one slipping quickly up to his forehead, and the other pressing down so hard on his chest he could almost feel his ribs snap, leaving his throat exposed. Steven's eyes widened. 

"N-no, no, please, no, NO--!!" The dying wailings were cut short as those sharp teeth ended him. There was no voice now, just the sound of a monster, feasting.