#mild religious talk cw

[blackcur-rants]

So I’ve been thinking things over and I think I’ve realised why it is that Odysseus and Penelope feel so lesbian to me despite being presented as very firmly cis and straight in Homer’s poem.

Namely, this is the story of an older couple who fell in love in unusual circumstances and who have been torn apart by life’s cruelty and randomness. And yet, even though the entire world up to and including an actual god tries to tear them apart forever, they stay true to each other out of love and devotion (which is all the more impressive because Homer makes it clear that Odysseus is not an intrinsically selfless or compassionate person) and eventually they are reunited and begin to rebuild their family together.

@dachi-chan25 @uncleasriel @cynicalclassicist @carcosa-commune @disregardcanon @lady-asteria @thoodleoo

[obsessivevoidkitten]

Anjinth Comes

Yandere Male Eldritch Abomination Deity x Gender Neutral Reader (CW: Violent noncon, blood, major character death, heartbreak, broken reader, religious themes, cult, paralysis, venom, oviposition, mild choking, breeding, tentacles, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.)  Word Count 2.2k (So sorry that this took me so long. So sorry that this is so fucked up, more fucked up than the eel one tbh. Reeeallly need something fluffier to balance these last two out.) 

The psychic scream for help released by Anjinth the Shadowed was not heard by many. It was only possible due to the thinning in the barriers separating the planes of existence and only a very few gifted in magic could perceive his call.

Of the handful of people who could, almost all of them discounted it as either a hallucination or a demon trying to lure them in with pleas of help and promises of power.

In fact on all of planet Earth you, and you alone, could both hear his call and were willing to assist him.

Anjinth told you all about himself. That he had originally come from the same realm of man, from deep within space, and had molded Earth to his will. But he had been bound and sealed into a realm of shadow and despair from which he could barely even talk into our world. He could only manage to do so now because the walls between the worlds had thinned ever so slightly.

He told you everything that you would need to do to release him from his prison, and he promised you power, immortality, and land that you would be able to rule under him. How could you resist?

So for years you made it your unyielding mission to bring him back to your world.

Luckily you slowly amassed a small cult to assist you. You had convinced enough people of your cause, getting them to see that the current world needed to be united under one unquestionable ruler.

The first thing you had to do was either find the pieces of magic crystal that summoned the portal that he was kicked through or to make a replacement that was tuned to the same frequency.

Since the pieces of the old one were crushed and scattered you had to make a new one. This was easier said than done.

But eventually you and those working under you managed to collect enough lapis lazuli to build the structure. It was high quality.

You were not a particularly gifted mage though, so enchanting the lapis gate and attuning it to the reverberations of the void realm where Anjinth lay waiting was beyond your capabilities.

But you were not alone in this and many of the Anjinth cult members had abilities and specializations that surpassed your own.

Your boyfriend, Zereff, was one such cultist. He was perfect, he was just as dedicated to the overthrow of the current world's corruption and disorder as you were and magical enchantments and attunements just happened to be his strong suits.

With the help of your beloved everything was almost ready for the day of reckoning when Anjinth would finally be released from his prison.

All that was required now was the summer solstice and it wasn't a long wait.

When the solstice came the entire congregation joined hands around the portal and began chanting a spell in unison, the runes etched into the crystal glew with a strange purple light, and eventually the portal opened, twirling and dark.

A gleeful laugh could be heard from the other side, you recognized it as the laugh of Anjinth, you had heard it a few times when he saw fit to speak to you.

You and your boyfriend, as leaders of his cult, stepped forward and knelt before the portal.

You did not know exactly what you had expected this ancient and powerful being to look like, but it certainly wasn't what you saw clamber out of the void to stand before you.

He was humanoid, but the proportions were off. He was easily over 9 feet tall, but his arms were strangely long. And there were four of them. You were too in awe to count but you could tell each of his hands had more than five fingers. His nails were black and pointed.

He was clothed in black robes that sparkled like a clear dark night.

Anjinth had long dark black hair that seemed to be in constant motion as if from a very slight breeze.

Sharp horns sprang from his head, but instead of curving upwards they curved downwards.

Tendrils made of shadow extended from his back and constantly writhed.

The being's legs were human enough, but he had a strange scorpion-like tail that looked like it was tipped with a scythe made from obsidian.

But the most striking features were that he seemed to have no mouth or eyes at all. Where his mouth should have been there was nothing and where his eyes should have been there were bandages.

At least they seemed like bandages, but they must have been part of his body as they appeared to be like his pearl white skin, not fabric, and tiny little malformed hands grew from them in random spots, and they moved and grasped, as if seeking something unknown.

Despite a lack of eyes he looked down, regarding you and your partner.

"Thank you, esteemed acolyte. I had been locked up for countless years, and now I shall bring the world to order under my command!!"

A lack of a mouth did nothing to stop him from communicating verbally.

His voice was like several men speaking all at once in near perfect unison, it came from everywhere and nowhere all at once.

Anjinth gestured for you to approach him and spoke as he did so.

"Come now, we shall consummate our union, you shall be my mate and forever be at my side!"

You looked at your partner and then back at Anjinth with confusion. He knew you had a partner already. And that wasn't the deal.

You were supposed to rule under him, not be at his side.

"What? No, I was supposed to just rule under you… l-like a general or something! I am already with Zereff!"

The words tumbled from your mouth and were filled with obvious fear. Disobeying such a powerful cosmic horror was not something many would do.

He regarded you silently for a moment before stating angrily, "You WILL rule under me, as my mate. It is your reward for being so wonderful and dedicated, it was how I intended our deal to work from the moment you answered my contact!"

His arm elongated to an impossible length as you trembled at his wrathful words. He lashed his elongated arm right into the chest of your love and ripped out his heart.

Zereff fell to the floor lifelessly before he tossed the body aside like useless trash. The other members of the cult kneeled and looked away, not daring to defy their lord.

You ran to wear the crumpled lifeless corpse of your beloved had landed but were intercepted by the shadowy tentacles on Anjinth's back.

Though they seemed forged of shade they felt fleshy and were stronger than any iron, they pulled you close to the one you had worshipped for years, though you were unable to meet his eyeless gaze as tears dripped down your face.

"There, I fixed your problem for you. Now you no longer have any other mate to take your loyalty for me. Only minutes in your realm and I am already solving problems for you, how lucky you are to have me here!"

Your sorrow turned to fury at those words and you lashed out at him, punching and kicking wherever you could make contact. You did not care if you died, at least if you did you would be back with your only love.

Instead he just chuckled as if what you were doing was utterly adorable.

"So cute, but really we need to make our union official and seal it in sex and I might hurt you if you keep moving like that. So stop."

Words were not enough to deter you, if anything you lashed out only more fervently.

Suddenly there was a great, though brief, pain in your side. He had stabbed you with the tip of his obsidian bladed tail and injected you with something.

Your entire body tensed painfully before going completely limp. You were nothing more than a rag doll held in his tentacles.

Anjinth held you in front of him and began using his claws to tear your pants and underwear away, you certainly wouldn't be needing them for a long while.

He disrobed and, still in full view of all of the frightened cultists present, spread your ass cheeks with two of his hands and began to prod and knead your hole with his free tentacles.

His cock was strange, it protruded from a genital slit, all thick and slimy with a hint of a knot at the base.

He took you in his arms and turned you around so that your hole was presented to him like a bitch in heat.

Anjinth rubbed the tip of his cock on your entrance teasingly, as if mocking you for being able to do anything about it.

Under the effects of his venom you were unable to form words, managing only to produce a garbled whimper in protest.

"Oh, what am I thinking, you are too small and fragile! I better use lube!"

Once more his arm stretched out and went for the corpse of your lover. He covered his hand in his thick dripping blood and covered his cock and your hole in it, massaging it into you.

Wetting your cheeks with fresh tears was all you could manage to do. He wasn't sadistic, but he was angry you had defied him and he knew he had to thoroughly put you in your place as his mate.

This would be both a lesson and punishment.

You could feel his slimy tip lined up with your hole before he plunged down to the base in one smooth motion, causing your stomach to bulge with the outline of his cock.

You braced yourself for the pain that would come with being impaled by a cock that was at least 16 inches, as thick as your arm, and lubed only by sticky blood, but no amount of anticipation could prepare you for how excruciating the pain was.

It was otherworldly, far beyond just the physical sensation of having your hole stretched to its limit. It was like he was willing the pain into you, like you could feel his anger in every movement of his cock.

Cries of pain caught in your throat as he violently rage-fucked you, one set of arms moving you up and down his length like a living cock sleeve and his other free arms.

His tendrils snaked all over your body, feeling every part of you, slithering under your shirt and teasing your nipples before making their way to your neck and choking you. This wasn’t supposed to happen, none of this was supposed to happen. He was supposed to come into the world and unite humans with order. Some of his tentacles began entering your pained hole along with his cock, stretching you even wider. But just when you thought you could not possibly be opened up any wider the base of his cock began thickening, he pulled his tentacles out as his dick tied you to him. A few moments later he was pumping you full of what you thought was semen but was actually just lubricating fluid for eggs. You could feel large round masses being deposited deep within you as he moaned. Anjinth sent the other cultists away, commanding them to do various tasks, and they scampered away quickly. They were eager to no longer see what had become of their former leader. Once alone Anjinth sat down on the throne you all had made him with you in his lap facing towards him. The paralytic he had drugged you with had worn off but all you could manage to do was sob and babble incoherently as your new lover rubbed your back and pressed your face into his warm muscular chest. You were still firmly knotted to him and the tip of his cock twirled about gently inside you, as if trying to comfort your pain, even as a mix of Zereff’s blood and his own inky black lubricant leaked out of you and all over his thighs. “Shhh, it’s okay. Now that you are without that bothersome inferior and know your place I won’t have to be violent with you again~ You can just sit back and be by my side as I breed you full of my spawn everyday for the rest of eternity.” Just as he promised from the very beginning you would rule under him, it would just be a bit more literal than you had anticipated. 

[osamucide]

Hi! I love your writing sm!!🥰 can I request a jealous Nikolai or Fyodor (nsfw pls) it doesn’t matter either one 🙏

jealous – nikolai gogol + fyodor dostoevsky . . . .ᐟ

NSFW CONTENT - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

wc: 1.5k

cw: explicit sexual content, gn!reader, language, dirty talk, brief mentions of ownership/belonging, toxic ass men. nikolai: mentions of injury/threats/murder, edging mention, oral (m!receiving), rough facefucking, wrist restraints, cum eating, nicknames (dovey, angel, sweetheart; kolya for him); fyodor: teasing, mild degradation, mild spanking, one religious reference, fingering, penetration, i love yous, nicknames (pretty, my love, whore, милашка/milashka=cutie; fedya, my only/everything for him)

reid: hey anon, thank you so much for the kind words uwu why not both?? inspo for this struck me as hcs/scenario format, hope that's okay <3 this is my first time ever writing for nikolai! he's so insane and he was actually a lot of fun to take a shot at. enjoy!

. . . .ᐟ

i can see NIKOLAI being easily made jealous.

even if you don't mean to provoke it, he's got a screw or two loose enough that his paranoia will get the better of him

and in true nikolai nature, he'll do some unhinged shit in the name of protecting his relationship with you.

he definitely maimed, shot, and mutilated a couple innocent flirters before you could really sit down with him and express how much you...disliked that methodology.

he does not play about you.

he gets better about it further into your relationship - no more murder on your behalf, you tell him, and he can manage that much! with this man, however, the unfortunate soul who fucketh around shall still findeth out.

oh, how he enjoys the look on the handsy stranger's face when he slinks up behind you to curl around your waist and portal-hold the tip of a blade to their chin

likes your reaction even more!

the way you squeeze his arm when you realize it's just your beloved jester behind you -

the blush on your face as you explain to the scum that this is your dear boyfriend (and apologize for the knife pointed at their face) -

the smooch you whip around to press to nikolai's cheek while he withdraws the weapon but never breaks eye contact with the stranger as they back away -

it all works like a charm!

what he loves most, though, comes later...

He's been edging himself with your mouth for god knows how long.

"If other bitches get to hear you talk, it's gonna be with that pretty voice wrecked," Nikolai groans, out of breath. "Feels- ngh, s'fuckin' good."

You can barely take it anymore. The blood's rushing to your head, first of all - it's been hanging off the edge of the bed practically since the minute you got home. Your jaw aches as Nikolai continues to use your throat. Most frustrating, though, is the pulsing heat between your legs that you can't even sate because your lover has bound your wrists up near your chest - all you can do is arch when, off and on, Nikolai reaches down to play with you while he fucks your mouth.

But he's getting needy, you can tell, because he loses himself a bit - he hasn't touched you in a good few minutes and his thrusts are getting greedier. He's long quit letting you come up for air. You think you've run out of tears - all you can do is breathe furiosly through your nose as he holds each side of your head and grunts from his chest as he ruins you.

You claw at him. "So good, dovey," he tells you, "almost done. Keep bein' good f'me- yeah."

You move your tongue how you can, hum around him when you can - eventually your dedication is rewarded when he pulls all the way out and strokes himself frantically over your tongue - and you cough a little, curling up into yourself.

You can hardly help your open-mouthed smile, however, when Nikolai releases the rough grip on your jaw to caress your cheek as he cums in thick spurts across your face. Your lashes flutter, he's moaning - "fuck, angel- angh!" - and you let out the garbled beginnings of a giggle as you lap up what makes it in your mouth.

You feel him scoop his load off your skin before his finger's in your mouth. Immediatley after you suck the rest of him down, he's bending down to kiss you sloppily and uncuff your wrists.

"That's my dovey," he affirms (more to himself than you). He peppers your face with kisses, his messy, snowy bangs brushing your face. "C'mere."

He works you upright just to lay you back down, more comfortably this time, finally and with fervor circling his fingers around your clenching hole.

"Kolya-" you rasp, sore.

"Took me so good, sweetheart," Nikolai shushes you, eyes alight with mania as he starts trailing kisses from your neck to your stomach. "Now that you remember who owns you, 'm gonna show you none of those motherfuckers could make you feel as good as I can."

. . . .ᐟ

oh, demon FYODOR.

i think he's less jealous than he is simply possessive.

he's not super concerned about people flirting with you, doing things for you, checking you out...in fact, he kind of likes watching those things happen! not that he doesn't expect it, you're perfect after all <3

because he knows, as you settle in his arms to whisper about the compliment you received or giggle at the person who offered to pay for your coffee, none of it will ever compare to the sweet words and pure love he showers you with, and he relishes in that fact. they can try anything they want, but you will never belong to anyone but him.

doesn't go needlessly far with expressing his jealousy when it does crop up - he's a tactful man, and he's not going to act out in a way that might put you off like nikolai will

he's patient, too. he's so composed around others. no one expects it - anyone who doesn't know better would assume the idiot who makes a pass at the demon king's beloved would get the whole room aired out in a matter of seconds

on the contrary, fyodor will sit with the closest he can get to a humorous grin on his face while he waits for you to make your way over and kiss him or sit on his lap or hook your arms around his waist

he'll tease you a little about it. "getting some attention?"

if you smile at him reassuringly, lean in, and tell him, "none that truly concerns me," all will be peaceful.

if you tease him back, however - maybe cross your legs away from him and shoot him a smirk and a quick "maybe so" - oh yeah, you're in for it.

He works you up, makes you a mess - then he throws it in your face.

"My gosh, милашка-" He doesn't take the Lord's name in vain even while he's drawing downright sinful noises from your body. "-listen to yourself. Shameless."

Fyodor's a patient man, as mentioned before; he uses it to his advantage in situations like this. He's stretching you out on his lithe fingers, slowly, almost painfully - his other hand traverses your thigh, landing a hard spank to the side of your ass each time you roll your hips unwillingly. You really can't help it either way - you have to watch and feel his pretty, pale fingers disappear into your hole, so it's either squirm and get smacked or whine and get mocked.

You're in a lose-lose situation, it seems. It felt amazing at first, the slow curl of his knuckles inside you, the gentle circling of his wrist, the concentrated sighs that left his rosy lips as he watched you relax into his touch, but now it's just torture. Now, you can only clench furiously and cry out please, please, just a little faster, Fedya, please!

Your eyes water when he finally gives in a little, moving fractionally faster.

"Do you deserve it, my love?" He cocks his head, looking at you as if he really values your opinion on the matter. "Or, my whore - since you're comfortable entertaining the advances of strangers."

You weren't, you must've sworn up and down ten times by now. You were being polite, you promise, but he shakes his head, his soft black locks waving as if mocking you too.

"Polite? You're lucky I haven't forced that filthy mouth shut. That's what got you here, after all," Fyodor explains excruciatingly. Sure, you got a little sassy with him after he accused you of being just that, a whore, after you'd flashed a humble smile toward the fellow restaurant patron who'd sent you a drink. And sure, that was tone deaf of them, considering Fyodor was very clearly holding your hand across the table and sporting your love bites on his neck, but you just couldn't be rude.

His eyes soften when a fat tear rolls down your cheek.

"Oh, pretty, don't cry." He shifts his legs beneath himself; his pace stays the same, but he reaches deeper inside you. "You remember who you're talking to, yes? You learn your lesson?"

You nod frantically. You whimper. "Of course, of course, Fedya, my only, ‘m sorry..."

You yelp like you've been burnt when he pulls his fingers out of you, but soon enough his hand is gripping your waist, his tip is teasing your entrance, and he's cooing into your ear, "Your only. You only love me, right? Say it."

You cup his face, grab at his shoulders, grind into him as you tearily reply, "Only love you, Fedya. I love you. You're my everything, please. My everything. I love you."

He knows you do. He just has to make you say it - make sure you know you do.

Fyodor's tongue finds yours as he thrusts into you - you're his everything, too, and he won't admit that, but he'll fuck you so good you know it's true.

"Relax, my love. Let me make you cum."

[carpkoinobori]

[†] thursday girl — giselle x reader

[𖤐] 1/1 [please be aware this is all fiction! none of this is real and idols behavior is not accurately represented.]

song(s): abbey - mitski | wife - mitski | goodbye, my danish sweetheart - mitski | circle - mitski | shame - mitski | once more to see you - mitski | thursday girl - mitski | pink in the night - mitski |

summary: you debut in SM’s newest girl group. The industry isn’t what you thought it’d be. It’ll be fine, right? or , more accurately: a girl’s guide to breaking all ten commandments.

pairing: giselle x aespa member!reader

to be honest the dynamic is more like the apple x the snake x eve

tags: angst, happy and open ending, literally just angst though, reader is raised catholic

wc: 7.3k

cw: dieting, eating disorders, religious trauma, catholic guilt, homophobia, internalized homophobia, comphet, mild implied sexual content, creepy variety show hosts and fans mentioned, the mortifying ordeal of being a girl

ex: not beta read, reader is third oldest/youngest - middle of five. reader’s stage name is Eve.

a/n: leaving this warning here. I was raised catholic. if you find negative mentions of organized religion upsetting, this one isn’t for you. NOT BETA READ ONCE AGAIN

psalm 32:1-5 Blessed is he whose transgressions are forgiven, whose sins are covered. Blessed is the man whose sin the Lord does not count against him, and in whose spirit is no deceit. When I kept silent, my bones wasted away through my groaning all day long. For day and night your hand was heavy upon me; my strength was sapped as in the heat of summer. Then I acknowledged my sin to you, and did not cover up my iniquity. I said, ‘I will confess my transgressions to the Lord’— and you forgave the guilt of my sin.

——————————————————————————————————— debut.

that’s what you’ve been working towards your entire life, what you hungered for, what you wanted.

since your early teen years, you’ve dreamed of debuting. You loved to perform, to sing, to dance— that’s why you were in your church’s choir group. The advent show, the way of the cross, everything— you were there.

did your parents approve of you being an idol? Absolutely not. They tried to convince you to settle down with one of the nice churchboys, the son of one of their friends. He was.. nice, okay looking. But you just didn’t like him. You dreamt of falling in love, being swept off your feet into happily ever after— but for most of your life, you had never even had a real crush! You must just not have found the right guy yet. It only counted when it was with a boy.

you auditioned for SM, and miraculously, you got in. Your days were spent training, dancing, weighing, singing, dancing, showcasing, singing, training, dancing, weighing— a cycle, really.

you met Yu Jimin and Kim Minjeong pretty early on, and you got along great with Jimin. She was catholic, and so were you! She wasn’t as dedicated as you, of course, but it was nice to have something in common.

you all didn’t get the chance to talk with Ning Yizhou a whole lot, even if she did share a dorm with minjeong. You dormed with jimin, but there was an empty bed.

that bed would be filled by one Aeri Uchinaga.

and from that day, your life would also be filled by aeri uchinaga.

The five of you were called to a meeting. You were a little worried, of course, clutching your silver cross chain and pressing the tip of it into your chest. A nervous habit.

“Hello girls,” the man began, the five of you sitting and fidgeting nervously.

“I have good news for you all. You five will be debuting as SM’s newest girl group, Aespa. Congratulations,” he smiled, and it felt like your world had just crumbled and rebuilt itself, three times over.

“We’ll begin thinking of your stage names soon, so feel free to give us some ideas. We’ll be waiting,” the man continued, and like that, the meeting ended.

you all had to celebrate, right?

The five of you met in your dorm, as minjeong didn’t want to bother the other trainee living there. You all begin thinking of stage names, and your eyes drifted to the figurine of Mary that sat on your nightstand. Jimin was thinking of using Katarina, her baptismal name, anyway! Your confirmation name could also work, but you weren’t sure.

“What if I used Mary?” You thought out loud, the other four girls turning their heads to glance at you, and the figure just behind you.

“Mary?” Jimin began. “Like, the Virgin Mary? Our Lady of Naju?” She questioned.

“Yes, I quite like the idea, don’t you?” The other girls knew you spoke a little formally, never really speaking in slang or impolitely in the slightest. It was your parents, after all. You had grown up in a secluded, small town in America, but your parents had taught you Korean, along with your own interest, reading books to perfect grammar. Sadly, that didn’t really teach you many informal words— not that your parents would allow that. You had to be a lady, of course.

“It seems a bit.. outdated, doesn’t it?” Aeri voiced, tentatively, and the other girls agreed with her. They began giving suggestions.

“What about Lily?” Jimin offered.

“Eden— no, maybe Eve?” minjeong hummed.

“Lilith!” Ning exclaimed, much to the amusement of the other girls.

“Ning, that’s similar to Lily, though, isn’t it?” Minjeong gave an amused half-smile.

“I guess so,” she sighed.

“I like Eve,” Aeri voiced, and the other girls all mostly agreed, although more name suggestions were given out, for everyone.

You debuted with the names Karina, Giselle, Eve, Winter, and Ningning.

you said a prayer every morning and every night, with the rosary that was around the figurine. A small Our Father, a Hail Mary, an Act of Contrition— no matter what, you never missed your morning and nightly prayers, no matter how small. You attended mass on Sunday, and while you usually couldn’t go in person, you’d try to listen to it in the morning, before it was time for practice, or at night, before bed— it didn’t matter how much sleep you gave up for it.

You were moved into a group dorms a bit after debut, Black Mamba being a sensational hit. You dormed with aeri, while ning and minjeong dormed together, karina having pulled the leader and oldest card to secure the single-room.

You and aeri weren’t exactly close. There was no animosity, of course, you two just never really got the chance to talk. It was definitely by chance. Not because she made your heart beat just a little faster, your steps a little more uncoordinated, your words fail. It wasn’t that. It wasn’t that at all.

you just admired the other girl. It didn’t help that you two had more than one language in common— aeri had gone to an international school, you were raised in america. You just hadn't gotten the chance to approach her, that was all.

well, the first night before the debut stage, you couldn’t sleep. You tossed and turned, finally sitting up, when—

“Can’t sleep?” aeri’s voice was low with sleep, and she was speaking in english. You felt an uncomfortable skip in your heart.

“Oh, yes, I’m just a bit restless,” you laughed, definitely not nervously. “I am, too. Just a little,” she replied, making a pinching gesture with her fingers, and a smile.

“Why?” You asked, even if it was kind of a dumb question.

aeri was silent, for a beat. At one point, you started to wonder if she was even going to respond.

“I’m just kind of.. scared,” she admitted. “We’re gonna be on display to the whole world, and who knows what’ll happen?” She chuckled, throwing her arms up just a bit. “I’m just.. worried. And.. I mean obviously, I miss home,” she added.

you looked at her, slightly, turning your head just to glance at the dark haired girl. “I know,” you murmured. “I miss home too, even if it wasn’t.. the most exciting place. I just miss it,” you continued. You were just a little afraid you were speaking too quickly in english, but aeri seemed fine. “I mean, I understand. I miss my parents,” she agreed.

you wished you could say the same. It’s not that you didn’t love your parents, but they were a little.. much. They didn’t like the fact you hadn’t found a guy yet. They’d ask you if you.. liked girls. You denied it, you didn’t! You were steadfast in your faith, dedicated, you didn’t like girls. You couldn’t.

“I miss my friends, you know. Sometimes I worry I’ll forget english,” you admitted.

“Well,” aeri gave a grin. “I’ll talk to you in english all you want if you promise to talk to me in japanese,”

you didn’t even speak japanese, but for her? you’d learn.

You smiled. “Of course,”

the two of you tried your best to sleep, after that, but it was mostly you two continuing to talk about anything and everything.

You could tell aeri was going to be one of your best friends. A reminder of home, if anything.

the debut showcase went great, the song was a hit, everything was good.

you and aeri spoke before going to sleep every night— you’d even bought a book about japanese grammar, how to read, write and speak it. You tried your best, but aeri had a nice time correcting you. It was.. nice. You always loved to learn languages, and for some reason, having someone who spoke it already help you was.. a bit comforting, in a way.

you still prayed every night, and aeri would sometimes give you a look, but she never said anything.

everything was going great.

until the hate began

Every little thing you or your group did was criticized, nitpicked, blown out of proportion— and the stress was getting to you.

you had never handled stress very well. You didn’t have a reason to. There was really nothing for you to ever stress about— other than following god, of course, but that wasn’t stressful to you. You had no reason to be stressed about something like that! You were a good person, you hadn’t ever wanted to sin.

some of the comments were about your appearance. It started to chip away at you. The company was always happy when you lost weight, so why not just a little more? It’s not like it would kill you. you were three months into an eating disorder that you called a diet.

the second you got up, you’d pray as your sustenance, head to practice, do your schedules— the other girls would order lunch, you’d ask for a salad. No dressing, of course, you didn’t like the taste. then, as you’d all get to the dorm, again, if there was even an hour of free time, you’d head to the company gym. Sometimes, when you were just in a waiting room, or you couldn’t work out— you’d pace. Anything to keep moving, you just couldn’t sit still. It was taking over your mind.

you couldn’t even eat normally. Any food given to you on a variety show, any drink, anything— mentally, you were counting. You liked to be in the negatives, you liked to skip meals, anything to be better. This was for yourself, so people couldn’t comment on you. You started to come up with even more elaborate ways to prove you were okay, to be better, you practiced more, you stayed late, you slept in the practice room, at times. You begged the vocal coaches to tell you whether or not you were actually good, and as much as they said you were, you just couldn’t believe them.

it was starting to destroy you.

“y/n?” Aeri called, as you prayed right before bed. She stood by the open room door, looking at you with a concerned expression. Why would she be concerned?

“Yes?” You answered, setting down the rosary, putting it back around the statue of Mary that watched over you so carefully. Sometimes, you wondered if you’d made her proud. Maybe if you said the suffering was in the name of god, he’d forgive you. He’d forgive you for the things you had thought and done and wanted to do. He’d forgive you. You could punish yourself, already. You could pray for him to fix you quickly, maybe you could give up eating for lent entirely—

“You.. haven’t been sleeping here, lately. We haven’t gotten.. to talk,” aeri began, sitting down next to you, looking down at you from where she had sat on your bed, right next to where you knelt.

you had completely forgotten your promise. It had just slipped your mind, you never really were awake enough for it, lately, and—

“Are you okay? You’re kind of.. pale, and you have dark circles, and-“

“Oh, I’m fine,” you smiled, quickly. “It’s just.. lent,” you lied, quickly. “All catholics fast and give something up for lent, don’t worry,” you assured, waving a hand dismissively. While it was true, it didn’t call for someone to starve themselves. You were lying. That’s a sin. But it’s just a white lie, so they won’t worry, right? It’s okay, you told yourself.

“We’re worried about you,” aeri frowned, putting a hand on your shoulder, the weight making you go from a kneeling position to sitting with your legs crossed. “I’m worried about you,”

god damn aeri, and her kind personality, and her need to care for others, and she was just so good- she was such a good person, and here you were, about to ruin her, damn her to hell. You were a horrible, filthy, disgusting person. For some reason, your eyes grew hot, but you couldn’t cry. You simply stared at her, with wide eyes, like seeing god’s light, it blinded you. You wished she didn’t care about you. You wouldn’t blame her. Vaguely, you remembered the first commandment.

the first commandment. Exodus 20:1 I am the Lord your God.  You shall not have other gods beside me. You shall not make for yourself an idol or a likeness of anything in the heavens above or on the earth below or in the waters beneath the earth; you shall not bow down before them or serve them. For I, the Lord, your God, am a jealous God

“Aeri, I-” your voice cracked, and you were so determined not to cry, but you could feel your resolve breaking, because you were weak, you were weak to your vices and weak to aeri, you were so pathetic. The older girl let out a small sigh, sinking down onto the floor next to you, taking you into her arms. She was silent, for a bit, while you choked out words that were mostly incomprehensible. She ran a hand through your hair, and was a bit unsettled to feel how cold you were to the touch, but she pointedly ignored it.

“Y/n, you can’t let the words of those people get to you.. they won’t do you any good, and.. I know that’s hypocritical of me, I’m learning to ignore it too, but.. you can’t let it kill you like this,” she continued, voice soft. It made you sick how much you liked her comforting you. What would she do if she knew that you were so disgusting. You wanted aeri, you realized as you held her shirt, with some sense of finality hitting you. You didn’t want her to leave. You wanted her to hold you, and she wasn’t even aware of what you felt towards her. You were taking advantage of her. You were so disgusting.

“I’m sorry,” you croaked out, voice a little choked as you bit the inside of your cheek, trying not to cry. “I’m so sorry,” “It’s okay,” she said, a little confused on why you were apologizing, look of worry on her face. Not that you could see it. You had your head in the crook of her neck.

that’s why you were apologizing, really.

you were sorry that you loved her. You were sorry she wanted to help you. You she couldn’t fix you, no one could. you were defective, and wrong, and oh so selfish. Aeri was such a good person.

the presence of the statue on your nightstand caught your eye from the corner. You turned away. She shouldn’t have to see this.

you could feel the tears stinging at your eyes, the shame, the guilt, the hate— it was all too much. You needed to push aeri away, to get as far away from her as possible, to save what little integrity and goodness you had left—

but you didn’t.

you clutched her shirt tighter, breathed her in desperately, and let out a choked sound. You wanted to cry, but you screwed your eyes shut and bit your lip. The blood was heavy and sharp in your mouth.

You woke up the next day beyond exhausted, but in your bed and off the floor. You surmised that aeri had put you there. You held your head, and got down on your knees in front of your bed. You prayed.

“Mary, mother of God, please guide me away from sin, as you have for so many others. Help me to continue being steadfast in my faith, and to follow all commandments well. Allow me to be worthy of your son, and continue to protect me from sin. These thoughts have been given to me by the devil, as a challenge of my faith. Guide me out of temptation, and forgive my actions, in the Lord’s name, I ask for this mercy,”

you stood up. Your knees ached. Aeri was up, sitting cross legged on her bed, watching you with a concerned expression. “Why are you praying to Mary?” aeri asked, voice light but expression still a bit worried, if not a tad curious.

“Catholics pray to saints as well. Especially depending on their patronage— I mean, if I lose something, I usually pray to Saint Anthony,” you chuckled, explaining the concept.

“What’s Mary the patron Saint of?” aeri asked, softly, curiously.

“Many different things, depending on which version of her you choose to pray to. Our Lady of Lourdes is Mary, but when she appeared in Lourdes. She’s the patron saint of the sick. There’s Our Lady of Loreto, the patron Saint of pilots,”

“Which one do you have, then?”

“Our Lady of Sorrows,” you murmured, glancing towards the figure on your nightstand. The rosary was draped around her carefully. Her downcast, frowning face, her hands clasped together, the feeling of her porcelain eyes boring into your back nearly burned.

“What’s she the patron Saint of?”

“Sinners,”

the second commandment. Exodus 20:1-7 You shall not invoke the name of the Lord, your God, in vain. For the Lord will not leave unpunished anyone who invokes his name in vain.

practice that day went on for a long while. You were all practicing for next level. At one point, you took a small break, drinking water— your heart had been beating quite fast, that day, and your throat had been dry the entire practice.

during the beat change, it was nearly impossible for you to keep your eyes off aeri- or should you start calling her giselle, now? maybe it would be best to separate the two.

you shouldn’t be looking at aeri like that— but giselle was an idol. giselle was not your friend— she was someone untouchable, unattainable. It was okay to like her, to find her pretty, to want- no, no. You didn’t. You just envied her appearance, was all.

Your eyes were glued to her, the way she moved, her expression, everything, it was-

“Oh my God,” you mumbled, eyes locked onto her movements, before you heard the instructor call for you to get up and were immediately snapped out of your haze. You didn’t even remember the event before you went to sleep.

the third commandment. Exodus 20:1-11 Remember the sabbath day—keep it holy. Six days you may labor and do all your work, but the seventh day is a sabbath of the Lord your God.  You shall not do any work.  For in six days the Lord made the heavens and the earth, the sea and all that is in them; but on the seventh day he rested. That is why the Lord has blessed the sabbath day and made it holy.

It was Sunday. It was always a toss-up whether or not you’d have a schedule that day, and today you did not. You watched the six a.m. mass, while aeri slept a few feet away. You knelt when they knelt, stood when they stood, prayed when they prayed.

but you did not sing, no. That would wake aeri.

the girls usually used their rest days to sleep. You always woke up early. You were restless. You hated to sleep. In your dreams you’d see images of a life you could never live, of things you shouldn’t— couldn’t— do. You’d see aeri. No, not aeri— giselle. Aeri didn’t look your way on the stage, hold your gaze for a moment too long, send a wink. The company didn’t order aeri to hold you closer, smile at you more, intertwine your hands.

aeri would never look at you that way.

but giselle would.

you went to the practice room after you prayed. You rehearsed until you felt the world spin, your skin too hot- until you forgot about aeri, and giselle, and the figurine on your nightstand, and the pastor’s homilies, and the way your parents would never love you the same because of what you had done. You danced until your vision became blurry, so you couldn’t see your hands, so whatever or whoever you touched wasn’t your fault, so you couldn’t see their face. More likely, so you couldn’t see yourself, and the body you lived in. You danced until your ears rang, so you wouldn’t have to listen to the sounds, to how your members pleaded with you to stop doing this to yourself. Till you couldn’t hear the people telling you it wasn’t enough.

till you couldn’t hear yourself telling you it wasn’t enough.

till you couldn’t hear your parents words resounding in your head, the endless comments of it being unnatural, of being sent straight to the hellfire, to how it was the most hideous thing in the world.

till you didn’t hear the way fans leered after you, and your members— the stares they’d give you, as you walked, the way they’d clamber for you, so many hands reaching, reaching for you, to touch, to take. it ate you up inside, how badly you wanted to be pure. and how you knew, through it all, you never could be. they could imagine you any way, salivate, draw, take, write it in comments. They even had the confidence to say it out loud, passing comments on variety shows.

you danced till you could forget their words, their looks, what you knew so well that they thought, you danced till you thought your body would give out—

or, conversely, till the leader and main vocalist of red velvet opened the practice room door and rushed over to the the shaking body of their junior, nearly unable to breath, head in her hands and knees to her chest in the farthest corner of the room, brightly illuminated.

you wanted to assure them you were fine, but the cross chain you wore was too tight on your neck, the silver feeling like hot iron burning your throat. You swore if you looked down it would be burning into your skin, leaving a brand.

each breath felt like swallowing glass, and your eyes were unfocused, and your ears were ringing, and your body was screaming in protest of each movement, and your eyesight was blurring—

but you got up, bowed, apologized, assured them you were okay, thanked them, and left.

you had been lying a lot, lately. To your members, about how you were— to your managers, your staff, to your seniors, now. Lying was a sin. but you could excuse it, couldn’t you?

you hoped they wouldn’t mention it to your members.

the fourth commandment. Exodus 20:1-12 Honor your father and your mother, that you may have a long life in the land the Lord your God is giving you.

you rarely talked to your parents. You should call them, more. Or, more accurately, you should pick up their calls, more. Except, it was maddening. You hated talking to them. No matter how much you tried to convince yourself you didn’t, that they were your parents, and what they said was gospel, you couldn’t stand it. Their prying questions, asking how being an idol was, if you kept up with your faith, asking why the media would report on how “close” you were with your members— with Aeri. Asking why you had gotten so thin, and that you needed to gain weight. They would pick and pry at every little thing. You couldn’t stand it, you couldn’t-

the phone rang. Again. You picked up.

“Finally, you answer the phone, y/n,” the voice of your mother crackled, thousands of miles away.

“I’m sorry,” you respond, robotically, like a reflex. “I was in practice. We’re busy, since we’re preparing for a comeback,”

“You always have some excuse for us, don’t you? You can’t just talk to your parents? What a daughter, you are. We’re your parents, y/n, you should actually listen to us, more. I told you being an idol wouldn’t be good for you, and look at you now! Barely any respect for your parents, how horrible is that? I can’t believe you,” she ranted, going on and on about this and that and every failure and everything you should’ve done better.

“This is why I didn’t want you going away, I knew what it’d do to you.. we tried to fix you, but you are a sick, sick little girl,” she spat, accusingly. “You know what you did, you know what you did to this family— that I have to live with a daughter who’s-”

click.

You hung up.

her voice was so grating.

Your mother loved to spout silly little ideas, didn’t she? She was wrong. You didn’t do anything. You weren’t gay. You didn’t like girls, or a girl. They had just been confused. The reason you became an idol was because you loved to perform, not because it was your only way out— after they saw you with her. It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t kiss her. You didn’t, you’d never-

the truth was that you had left your hometown because of an incident. Yes, you loved to perform, and being an idol was always on your mind. But you never thought you’d do it, how could you leave?

You soon found out what it was like to live outcasted, alone, treated like something wrong and filthy and horrible. Your parents didn’t help. So, you did what anyone would do— you ran away, off to Korea, off to the harsh idol system

because anything

anything

would be better than living with the guilt and shame, with the knowing eyes and hateful stares. anything would be better than being stuck in that suffocating smalll town, where everyone knew everyone, and all your secrets were magnified.

she had moved away, anyway. Her parents protected her. you protected yourself. You had to run.

so you did.

you had to kill that part of yourself, bury her more than six feet deep, deep enough so that the world would never find her.

You died the day your parents opened your bedroom door and found you with the daughter of a deacon, who helped at the church, who your parents had invited over for dinner, who they had been invited by for dinner. When they found you with the daughter of their friends.

they didn’t know whether to say if she corrupted you or you corrupted her.

they chose the latter, of course, they got to it first. They drove them out of town, blaming that girl for your transgressions. For your sin.

she kissed you, after all.

you just sat there and took it.

it wasn’t your fault, they said to the town. It was hers. You’re just too trusting and naïve.

if only they knew, the rest of the people. Your parents certainly did.

they forbid you from having any friends that were girls over, again.

and you understood. You knew. And you took it.

You killed that part of yourself, that day. Buried her, and tried to forget. But there’s dirt and blood on your hands and you’re still hollow. There’s nothing left of you, from before. Bright smiles and eyes, a cheery demeanor, giggling in secret with her- there’s none of that left.

You’re not a little kid anymore, a teenager with a crush, no.

You grew up. You had to.

and that little girl is dead.

dead and buried, underground.

you wished Aeri knew you when you were younger.

she would’ve loved the softer you.

the fifth commandment. Exodus 20:1-13 You shall not kill.

You know, there’s a reason priests and nuns can’t get married.

it’s because, allegedly, they’re married to god.

so, in that case, is it wrong for you, married to god since birth, by your parents— that anything, anyone other than a boy, was wrong?

you tried to understand, but you couldn’t. What was the consensus?

you knew, deep down. What you were was wrong.

and yet, you couldn’t stop. You tried. But you were weak, at heart. A sinner, with no control.

that was your downfall, you thought.

or maybe salvation.

You and Aeri were the last two in the practice room— you were near obsessive with your need to perfect choreography, and Aeri asked you for help, so— you were here. You had already released Next Level, but the practicing never stopped, obviously. You had to perfect it, make it yours, make it the best— so that’s where you were, right now.

it was late, honestly. Already dark out, and your other three members had long since left. You regretted saying yes to Aeri— you knew the choreography for next level, obviously, you knew the way Giselle moved made you feel something wrong, something dark and wanting. You tried to push it down, though— you ran through the moves together, you fixed some posturing and some other small timing issues, really, it was nothing major. You watched her run through those parts, and clenched your jaw.

you felt hot, and your hands itched to reach out and touch her. You couldn’t be making this up, could you? She was looking at you through the mirror, your flushed face barely visible from the darker corner you were sitting at. You swore you could see a smirk on Giselle’s face, for a split second, a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

you hated it, hated how Giselle made you feel out of control, made you feel wanting, made that dark thing in you, shoved deep down, squirm and claw. You felt sick. You wanted her.

“I’ll be back,” you said, abruptly standing up and turning the door of the practice room, practically scrambling out. “Bathroom,” was what you supplied as reasoning, before you got out the door, rushing through the empty halls. They were weirdly eerie, at night.

you walked into the bathroom, the sound of your shoes clicking on the ground far too loud, the yellowed glow of the SM building’s bathrooms surrounding you. You gripped the sink, turning on the water and splashing some on your face. You felt dirty, and wrong. Your skin crawled in the suffocating space, the sound of running water driving you insane, the sound of your breathing almost too much. It seems you were in there for longer than you thought, though, as you stated into the mirror, lost in thought, knuckles turning white with the bruising grip you kept on the sink counter.

“Y/n?” Aeri called, opening the door.

You snapped your head to her— she was wearing just some white tanktop and sweatpants, with a black sports bra, but god.

Giselle walked over to you, with a concerned expression. “Are you okay? You’re breathing pretty hard,” she asked, walking closer, putting a hand on your hip, other hand touching your arm.

your composure snapped. You moved your hands to her face, holding it in them, looking at her with wide eyes. “Giselle, I-”

“Why are you calling me Giselle? That’s my stage name, y/n, just call me Aeri?” she said, a little confused and a little irritated. Why the hell were you calling her by her stage name?

you held her face a little tighter, taking in a sharp breath, mouth suddenly feeling dry.

“Aeri,” you murmured, voice low. You leaned in, and her eyes widened, slightly. She didn’t push you away, in fact, she met you in the middle, holding you tighter, moving her other hand to your waist, squeezing your hip, where she could feel the outline of your hipbone. You hated how much you needed her, the kiss messy and desperate, filled with an underlying sense of want and need.

“G- Aeri,” you mumbled, out of breath, panting against her mouth. You couldn’t reconcile the two, easily. Giselle was the one who was making you do this, right? Not Aeri, you didn’t like Aeri, right?

no, that wasn’t true. You liked Aeri. A lot more than you’d admit. You wanted her. You needed her. You couldn’t stop, now.

“Aeri, please-” you murmured, between kisses. They were more desperate, now, wanting, as she pushed you against the cold bathroom wall, the light flickering once. Twice. Three times.

“Yeah? What do you want?” She asked, lowly, eyes dark and pupils blown wide as she looked down at you.

“Lock the door,” you muttered, grabbing her wrist, tightly, and moving her hand upwards.

the sixth commandment. Exodus 20:1-14 You shall not commit adultery.

you and aeri never spoke about it.

but it became a thing, now.

you needed her like a drug, constantly wanting and waiting for the next time you could have her.

you and giselle shared a room, after all. you were pretty sure everyone knew. and by everyone you meant your members, of course. the public could never know, they’d ruin both your career and hers, and you couldn’t do that to her. you weren’t evil, just weak. just horrible, but not evil. you could never hurt her. you loved her, didn’t you? the way a friend doesn’t hurt a friend.

deep down, you knew. It was so much worse than that.

they couldn’t know the way you put concealer on, before practice. the way you were strangely hot and cold, terrified of her touch, but how the both of you would disappear into your room, or somewhere, together, always appearing back, more than a few minutes later, though the tension was always still there.

the way you had become a shell.

you were ashamed, really.

you felt so disgusting, all the time. here you were, dirty, filthy, robbing someone else, sullying them, damning her, all for your own selfish needs, desires, wants.

you had always wanted, too much.

giselle was your temptation and aeri was the sin, the collateral to the damage.

it’s not like she protested, either, the way giselle’s hands lingered, a beat too longer to be friendly. the way her fists would clench on those stupid variety shows, when the hosts mentioned your appearance, saying you were so pretty.

she hated how they’d look at you.

but you couldn’t see that, really.

you hated yourself, and you had stolen aeri’s sanctity.

it was giselle’s fault, though, you would think, sometimes.

but deep down, you knew the truth.

it was your doing. Your fault. You ruined everything you touched, everything you wanted would die and burn because you were a sinner. All because you couldn’t control yourself.

eve ate the apple, too, you’d think. but maybe, the snake wasn’t just the creature, no, but the whispers of lilith, beckoning her away, promising her everything she’d wanted. forbidden knowledge, godhood, becoming better— and maybe, even herself.

was biting the apple an act of naivety, of greed?

or the blind, blissful ignorance of trust? of love?

someone you loved wouldn’t damn you, would they?

but oh, you knew better. You knew.

you had stolen both of your chances of sanctity and holiness.

out of blind, ignorant, nearly all encompassing love.

it was love.

the seventh commandment. Exodus 20:1-15   You shall not steal.

The weeks went by, in this strange commitment.

you had just arrived back from yet another variety show, and Giselle was obviously annoyed at something. It was late, and everyone wanted to sleep. You made your way back to your room, the door open a crack—

giselle was changing into some sleep clothes. You didn’t really care which. the glimpse of her back, of skin, made you nearly feel ill. You shut the door, quickly, feeling like you couldn’t breathe. It made you feel sick.

you entered about a minute later, to see her scrolling on her phone, with a bored expression. You, instead, went and knelt in front of the small Mary statue you kept.

“Mary, mother of God, please hear my prayer. I’m asking you to give me the strength to-”

your breath hitched as you felt giselle put her hands on your shoulders, leaning into your back, feeling her smirk press against your neck.

“y/n,” she called, a mischievous lilt to her voice like this was a fucking game.

“y-yes?” was the reply.

Her hands moved, pressing along your collarbone.

“You know, I hate variety shows, sometimes,” she hummed, voice so unbelievably distracting. “I don’t like the way they talk about you,” she continued.

“I- I agree, I do, it’s quite-”

her blunt nails dug into your shoulder, slightly, as she pulled you back, just a bit, your back pressed to her front. Her head craned forward, to murmur into your ear. “It pisses me off,” she added.

of course, you tended to her anger. You had to, as penance.

later, when you were laying beside her, panting with tears in your eyes, saying anything that came to mind—

“I love you,” you choked out, reverently, like a prayer.

god never responded to those, usually. aeri didn’t love you back.

there’s no way god loved you. and aeri didn’t, either.

the eighth commandment Exodus 20:1-16 You shall not bear false witness against your neighbor.

“Tell me not to,” you begged, clutching onto giselle like a lifeline, holding her arms. “Tell me no, tell me not to love you. I can’t, I shouldn’t, I don’t want-”

girls never hungered. They never want, like a boy.

“And what if it’s what I want!” She spat back, acidly, pushing you off. “I love you, and I don’t know why you can’t accept that! I love you, not like a friend, or coworker, or whatever else you think! I’m in love with you, why can’t you get that!?” she asked, sharply, voice far too loud.

you didn’t know how to explain that you loved her, too, that you wished you could love her. You always wanted, so badly, to like a boy, and to love him, so you could hold his hand in public, and kiss him, and introduce him to your parents and they wouldn’t say a word, to be able to love him without just that fact being controversial, to love someone without it absolutely ruining your career. Idols couldn’t date, yes, but they’d survive if they were rumored to be with a man.

god forbid it was a girl.

you couldn’t ruin her career, or yours. You couldn’t damn her more, you couldn’t ruin everything, like you always did-

“I can’t,” you cried, desperately. “I’ll ruin everything, I’ll ruin you, I’d-”

“I don’t care!” she retorted. “I don’t care! I want you, and I love you. Is it that you can’t, or you won’t? You’re just scared,” she accused, rightly so.

“I am,” you admitted, pathetically. “I’m scared.”

She scoffed, clenching her fists. She turned, sharply, turning the door handle, wiping her eyes and slamming the room’s door.

You were alone.

god abandoned you, long ago.

you don’t know why it hurt more the second time.

the ninth commandment Exodus 20:1-17 You shall not covet your neighbor’s house. You shall not covet your neighbor’s wife, his ox or donkey, or anything that belongs to your neighbor.

it was a few days later, at night after an off day. You had been hiding in your room most of the day. Cowardly, yes, but the other members weren’t exactly thrilled with you. You couldn’t blame them. You were currently pretending to be asleep.

you heard aeri enter the room. She laid down, to sleep. The lights were off. It was dead silent. You turned.

“aeri,” you called. No response.

“I’m sorry. I’m really sorry,” you continued, after surmising she was asleep. “I love you. I really do. I’m just so, so scared. I don’t know how to let myself love you. I feel wrong. I’m sorry. I want to. I don’t know how to love you how you deserve, I don’t even know how to love myself. Im weak and pathetic, really. If you knew the real me, I think you’d hate me,” you chuckled, without humor. “As long as you’re happy, though. I’ll be okay,” you murmured, finally.

“Im not happy, actually,” she informed, suddenly, and you felt your heart leap into your throat. “I love you, y/n. I don’t care if it’ll make everything more difficult, or if you think I’ll hate you. I won’t, by the way,”

you didn’t know how to respond. aeri did it, for you.

she got up, walked over to your bed, and made you sit up.

“so can you stop being scared? I love you, and-“

you cut her off.

you clutched her face, and kissed her, desperately. You felt tears well in your eyes, and this time, they fell. You pulled back.

“aeri, I love you, I love you so much. I love you, please forgive me. I’ll try, I swear. Please, just-”

she kissed you, again. nothing was completely fixed, yet, but you both loved each other. You were still scared, of course, but aeri had seen you at your worst, already, and was still here. so maybe, it was okay.

the tenth commandment. Genesis 1:1-Revelation 22:21 Love thy neighbor as I have loved you.

The last few weeks had been.. different.

You had started eating again, or, more frequently, was a better way to put it.

it was mostly because aeri had taken up cooking, and you could never say no to her, and it was kind of nice, really, to see her happy when you told her you liked the food.

you started to ignore the comments online, not even bothering to read them most of the time. You called your parents less, if that was even possible, and started talking with aeri and your members more.

it was nice, to have friends. To have people that you knew cared about you. It was nice to know that people didn’t view you as disgusting, or filthy, or wrong.

you had a hard time viewing yourself, differently, but if someone like aeri, someone so good, could stand you, then maybe, you weren’t as bad as your parents said you were. They were wrong about a lot, you’d come to learn.

on one of your breaks, you had found another statue.

it was of Saint Maria.

you put it next to the statue of Our Lady. You thought it fit, in a way.

you didn’t attend sunday mass, or hear it. You didn’t pray much, anymore, either. but you kept the statues as a reminder, of sorts.

aespa had been doing very well, as well, and you didn’t practice late into the night, as much, anymore.

all of you were currently deciding what takeout to order, and trying to pick a move. no one could really come to a final decision, and you watched the bickering amusedly. You got up, heading to the kitchen, filling a glass with water. Aeri appeared behind you, a sly smile on her face as she wrapped her arms around your waist. “Hey, y/n,” she hummed.

“Yeah?” you replied, turning your head. she had a smirk on her face.

“I got you somethinggg,” she grinned, tilting her head, a mischievous expression on her face, her hands clasped behind her back.

“what is it?”

she handed you a gold necklace, with rose quartz in the shape of a heart at the end, a bashful expression beginning to take place at your silence. “I didn’t know if you would like it, but it reminded me of you, so-”

“It’s perfect,” you interrupted, a genuine smile on your face. “Can you put it on for me?”

aeri removed the silver cross necklace you had worn for years, and years, placing it on the counter. She clasped the new necklace, the gold sitting pleasantly on your skin.

you turned to her, holding her face before kissing her, smiling into it. You left the chain on the counter, a smile plastered near permanently your face. “It’s beautiful, aeri, thank you,”

“Of course,” she replied, with a very self-satisfied grin on her face.

“I love you,” you added, wrapping your arms around her waist.

“I love you too, you sap,” she rolled her eyes, good naturedly, but still held you, too. “Come on, let’s go back— i’m not letting them watch a disney movie for the millionth time,”

“So what, you can watch Deadpool?” You teased, with a grin.

“Maybe,” she replied.

it was definitely certain, now, with the silver chain thrown in the garbage, easily.

you loved aeri uchinaga

and you hoped, prayed, even, that the rest of your life would be filled by aeri uchinaga.

A/N: hi guys… so I love aeri uchinaga btw. uhmm so basically the catholic version of the Ten Commandments the ninth commandment is separated into nine “don’t covet your neighbors wife” and ten “don’t covet your neighbors goods” but technically all Ten Commandments can be followed by following the one big rule which is “love thy neighbor as I have loved you” and basically symbolism forever eve breaks all nine commandments but follows the one big one which is like love everyone which means she never actually sinned she just thought she did because she is doomed yuri ☝️🤓

I LOVE TOXIC YURI AND DOOMED YURI FOREVERR pleek send asks+reqs btw I need ideas

[flaneur001]

Yandere! Business man x Fem! Reader Word count- 1409 (proofread) [CW- stalking, obsessive behaviour, mild abuse insinuated, abduction, insinuated noncon acts,Stockholm syndrome]

5 Things he HATES about you

“There you are, walking without a care in the world. Hair billowing in the gentle wind like a halo atop your head, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes, bunny?

You hum to yourself, the beginning of a sweet song, and it sounds like honey to my ears. Any words that slip from those rosy lips tempt me to taste them. Sigh you have made a besotted fool out of me.

So why do you test me so bunny? When I have been nothing but oh so good to you?!”

I HATE THE WAY YOU MAKE MY HEART RACE~ He had been living a perfectly normal, uneventful life. Going about his daily routine, working, keeping to himself and his eccentric hobbies. But that morning, you had to spill piping hot coffee on him, ruining his tailored suit and mood. His jaw ticked and he looked up at the clumsy menace ready to give them an earful when he felt shaky little hands dabbing at his suit. She blubbered apologies, a flustered whimpering mess, and something in him shifted. The sight of the woman before him, reminded him of something pitiful. Like a small bunny. He dropped a few bills and instantly left the cafe, irritated at the way the coffee clung to his scalded skin. Why had he gone soft? Something definitely had shifted in him, and he soon realized what. His traitorous heart had shifted allegiances, thrumming for a woman it barely knew. This was an inconvenience, and he hated you for it.

I HATE WHEN YOU DON’T LOOK AT ME~ His hands furiously typed at the keyboard of his laptop, eyes trained on the woman fluttering about the cafe with a cheerful smile. Her hands were laden with trays of food and coffee. She made small talk with some customers, greeting the regulars so sweetly like she knew them personally. When she came up to his table, her smile tightened and her eyes dropped to her feet. A smirk sneaked its way on his face at her docile behavior, yet something irked him. ‘Why won’t you look at me the way you look at others?’ Although some petty part of him loved seeing you uncomfortable around him, he couldn’t understand why his hands itched to grab your chin and make you face him properly. ‘Screw the coffee I’d rather drink in the warm pool of those eyes’

WHEN YOU TALK TO HIM? YES, I HATE IT~ Her shift had ended hours ago. Had he got the schedule wrong? No…he had it memorized by now. Your home, every place you went to, some spots that you visited frequently? Yes, those were his favorite haunts too now. So when he hung by the dimly lit alley, and his eyes landed on you having an animated conversation with the guy that you worked with, his fists clenched at his sides. It had been pouring heavily, and here he was soaked to the bone, waiting for his bunny to leave so that he could see you walk home, but what did you do?! You were busy with another guy? See bunny, you should have known better than to talk to other men. Don’t you realize that you are naive and so innocent? They would use you. Stop hurting me and making me mad bunny.

I HATE THE WAY I CAN’T GET YOU OUT OF MY MIND~This has gone on for weeks. He has become a pilgrim visiting the cafe everyday religiously. So much so that even the regulars know better than to occupy the table at the farthest corner, with the best vantage point of the counter. Today is no different either, his eyes are preoccupied with their silent vigil, watching…appreciating, your lithe form moving between the tables delivering order after order. But he has changed. You have changed him. Gone is his need to uphold perfect appearances in crisp three piece suits. Rather these days he is like a foolish boy in love. Not mindful of what he is wearing or where he is. Nothing matters anymore. It’s only you, all you. His employees are worried about him being absent from work. But they don’t realize that if he doesn’t watch you every damn second of the day, he might lose his mind. Hell, he feels his sanity slipping slowly even when he’s near you. It’s not enough. Nothing is enough when it comes to you. Bunny, close doesn’t seem close enough, and THIS HAS GOT TO CHANGE. You’ll be mine and only mine. Soon.

I HATE WHEN YOU TRY TO LEAVE ME~ The ceiling is a little damp with a musty air lingering around the vicinity, due to the barred windows lining the basement. A plush bed sits in the centre of the bleak room, its soft rose colored sheets are a stark contrast to the abysmal grey of the room. The room is silent save for the occasional sob that escaped your mouth. Whenever a tear rolled down your face, it didn’t take a second before he was on you, gently cradling your face, as he wiped the stray tears with a tissue.

“Shhh bunny. It’s okay. Everything’s okay now. There…there” he cooed, his big hands combing through your lush hair, as he sat close to you. Your knees touched and you resisted the urge to flinch when he raised his hands to sweep your hair away from your face and gathered them into a ponytail.

He eyed you wearily as he clicked his tongue, looking at the big red handprint on your cheek. Gently he pressed an ice pack against your swollen skin and soon the ice was replaced by his warm lips. His breath fanned across your face, all mint and whiskey intoxicating you.

“It hurts doesn’t it?” He inquired in a low voice, his strong hands had easily scooped you up and placed you on his lap snaking his arms around you to pull you in an embrace.

But when you shook your head in answer, his hand grabbed your ponytail so tightly that it hurt. Yanking your head back to face him he smiled menacingly, “Did you forget already bunny? I want you to use your words to answer me, and I want you to look at me when I’m talking” he said. The dulcet tone of his warm voice was so soothing, a stark contrast to his vice like grip on your waist and hair.

If you listened closely, you could sense the worry in his voice, the slight tremor in his touches, and the way his eyes never left you. You didn’t want to, but you had started looking forward to the time he came home from work. The way he talked your ear off about the people at his company. The way he bathed and dressed you in the finest of clothes.The way he himself fed you, and asked his chef to cook the food that you especially loved. He had also changed the metal chains to softer bindings once you started to behave nicely. Once he started to trust you.

“I’m sorry bunny…” he said nuzzling your neck. Then turning your face with a slender finger he pressed feather-light kisses to your swollen cheek, muttering an apology after each kiss.

“Don’t make me do this bunny. You were doing so good. We were starting to trust each other didn’t we? What more do you want? I can lay the whole damn world at your feet darling, just say the word.” He laid you down on the bed and curled behind you, holding you close to his chest. You listened to his heartbeat, the sound eerily placating you. He was still wearing his work clothes. All pristine and proper in his three piece suit.

You giggled on the inside thinking only you got to see the madness that lingered behind those angel eyes.

He kissed the top of your head as he hummed a sweet lullaby, and you felt your eyelids droop.

“Sleep bunny. And banish every thought of leaving. You don’t want to see the monster rear its ugly head again, do you? You’ll stay right?” He asked deceivingly sweet.

“Yes”, you muttered, looking at him over your shoulder. A proud smile lit up his face, pointy canines flashing, that made him look boyish and ethereal in the dim lighting.

“Good girl. You’ll learn soon enough, that you’re mine. And there’s no place safer than my arms” he mumbled as the sleep finally overcame your senses.

[kenobster]

The more pressure there is on creators to tag/warn (aka rhetoric like "its okay if ppl write [blank] as long as its tagged" rhetoric... discord servers that have heavy CW rules... comments/asks requesting certain topics to be tagged...), the less interest I have in actually tagging anything whatsoever.

Movies are a different beast perhaps, but, as an avid reader, I've never stumbled across anything unexpectedly dark or triggering in a book or a fic. The author's opening passages or chapters have always prepared me for the eventual nature of their story. The style, the tone, the synopsis, the foreshadowing — they have never failed to indicate an oncoming scene descriptive or explicit of something dark or uncomfortable. When I stumble across those preparative breadcrumbs the author has left me, it's true that I sometimes feel temporary discomfort... but I'll hit the back button or close the book or exit the app, and that extremely mild unease is soon forgotten. (If it is not forgotten, then I am grateful for the reminder to schedule my therapy appointment or spend time with a friend or find some other kind of tactic to address such unhealthy rumination. And even if I cannot address it, I'm aware that any attempt to avoid it will only worsen my tolerance for uncomfortable encounters in the long term.)

I can sort of understand the pressure in some scenarios. Perhaps a discord server would like to be inclusive of minors without legal repercussions. Perhaps a user is constantly filling a popular tag with triggering material without any warnings or tags. However, there are times when it makes less sense. A discord server dedicated exclusively to darker themes (especially with a small userbase) needn't mandate the use of trigger warnings. A tumblr user needn't tag every mention of "blood" or "vomitting" just to satisfy the possibility of one or two uncomfortable followers.

I support tags. I support warnings. I support information.

As long as it's voluntary.

The use of warnings and categories and tags and 18+ pages is the solution to any need for censorship. However, when such things become an expectation, rather than a choice, this wonderful solution so easily veers straight back to the slippery slope of censorship. "Fic authors should tag for noncon" so easily becomes "authors who don't tag for noncon aren't allowed to write noncon at all," which so easily becomes "authors who don't tag for noncon are abusers themselves." And throughout the process, the definition of what constitutes "noncon" will expand and expand and expand. In this way, the impetus is shifted right back from the reader (who can curate their fandom experience) to the author (who becomes responsible for reader discomfort). I am hardly the first to talk about this, nor is this the best way I've seen it described — but it is a problem that concerns me deeply.

In our interpersonal relationships, I think most of us do understand the difference and agree on the issue. For example, I am triggered by animal death or harm. If I see too much related to the subject, I will be caught in a depressive episode that can last hours or days or weeks. I avoid movies that involve animals, and I religiously check relevant questions on doesthedogdie.com. However, if my friend comes to me for comfort because her pet cat is dying, I do not shriek at her for not considering my trigger or warning me first. Hell, I don't even ask her to stop. I sit there, and I listen, and I support her, because even though it's a trigger for me, I realize that sometimes in life we can't choose the subjects we encounter. We curate our experiences the times in which we can to make room for the times in which we can't.

AO3's option for "creator chooses not to archive warnings" is not a mistake; it's a feature. And as a creator existing in the current state of fandom, I consider using it more and more every day. Your discomfort with my writing's existence is not my problem, and my writing warns for itself.

[wildlyhopefulcreature]

The Red Church Door

*Disclaimer: The following is a work of fiction. There is allegory, but the events in this story did not literally happen to me the way they appear in the story. CW: mild religious violence, Christianity, Transphobia*

The church door slammed in my face. The door was red, a giant, bloody stop sign as I sought community and support. I was stunned. I hadn’t imagined that any event would’ve led to the resounding rejection I had just experienced.

This was the only church in the town, and I’d gone there seeking help. I showed up as myself, wearing the only clothes I owned, along with the smells of the past… however long ago it was that I became homeless. I wore a coat, boots, and a beard that I desperately wished I could shave. I looked like what you’d imagine a homeless person to look like.

I was hoping for help from this church. I need food, shelter, and the chance to look like I want to. We’d gotten further than most places; they let me in the door, and they took the information I had to start getting me housing, or at least housing assistance towards housing. They talked about a food drive they had that would help me, and gave me some suggestions for food banks or housing places I could go to.

But in their information gathering for housing, they asked me a question that I couldn’t lie about: “Are you a transsexual or a crossdresser?”

I should’ve been able to lie about it. Everyone knows that Christian churches can be very bigoted against LGBTQ+ people. I knew that they could deny me care because of my being trans, and being a religious organization, federal law wouldn’t protect me from that discrimination. I could guess that they wouldn’t be accepting because of the very outdated language. Affirming people know that “trans or transgender” is more current, and the more informed ones know that those are adjectives and not nouns.

But I’d been kicked out of my family home because I’m trans, I was facing this whole situation because I am trans. And also, I was in a church, a holy place. And I couldn’t lie in a church, even a bigoted one. I couldn’t get housing by hiding myself again. I wanted to wear dresses, and be clean-shaven, and be a woman that people would be jealous of. And I can’t do any of those things if my housing depends on my pretending to be someone I’m not. And, even though I desperately wanted a razor, I was not going to put up with more bigoted shit. I’d rather have nothing than live the lie that I was a man again.

So I said, “Yes, I am trans.”

And the lady helping me paused for a second, processing. I hoped in vain that she would be alright and nothing bad was going to happen.

But she tore the papers she’d handed me out of my hands, and she pushed me out of the church with a grimace on her face. She threw my driver’s license after me, and slammed the door just as I stumbled back toward it.

And here it was, the red church door.

It had been inviting once. I’d learned that God loved me, and everyone, unconditionally. I can’t remember if that was from church or from my own experiences of God. But it was nice to have the community, and to have the formality of the worship services.

But I guess I’d have to worship in the grass surrounding the town. And I guess I’d keep the community of God with me.

I know they don’t have a monopoly on God. God is everywhere. I just wish more churches acknowledged God’s unconditional love, and treated me with the same.

I guess I’ll wander with no place to lay my head, just like the Son of God.

Originally written 11/19/2022

[blackcur-rants]

Asahiko and the Three Voyagers

Once long ago in the distant land of Aomori, there was a prince named Tsuyomo Takeru. He was the son of the great Empress Tsuyomo Natsuko and her consort Lord-Prince Kujo Hachiro, and he was the handsomest and most noble lad in all the realms of the Chrysanthemum Ocean. All the princes and princesses and other royal heirs of these distant lands wanted to win his hand, but he kept to himself because he was waiting for his one true love to come along into his life, and none of the princes of Wancheng or Songnhieu or Pangaam or Sadhuvarta appealed to him in his heart. For he was looking for someone fairer still, more beautiful in soul than in body. 

And so it was that Prince Takeru remained single and celibate until his seventeenth year, when he was riding along the roads of his future lands and saw a rather ugly man bathing naked in a river stream. The man was burly and large and covered in more scars than one would expect for a man of two-and-twenty. And initially, there was great mistrust between Prince Tsuyomo Takeru and the mysterious Samurai, the heart of the Crown Prince was changed immensely when the mysterious warrior slew six Tengu in a single battle to defend the little village of Kinoshita from the Tengu’s depredations. It was after this battle that the Ronin introduced himself as Kajiya Hiyoshi, and explained how he had been a Ronin ever since a group of Oni had killed his family when he was seven years old. Takeru and Hiyoshi fell in love very swiftly after that, and they returned unto Nijo, capital city of Aomori, and they were married four years later when Takeru was one-and-twenty and Hiyoshi was six-and-twenty. And two years later, cancer of the stomach took Empress Natsuko away from the mortal world, and Takeru was now Emperor of the realm of Aomori. 

And yet, despite the love that they had for each other, Emperor Takeru and his husband Prince Hiyoshi were unable to conceive a child to succeed them upon the Lotus Throne. For many years, the two royal husbands tried desperately to have a child using every method that they knew from alchemy to sorcery and even unto consultations with the Great Divinities. Yet nothing worked for fourteen whole years until Prince Hiyoshi found a pair of mystical Azure Lotuses growing in the snows around Mount Sagarmatha and decided to bring both of them back to Nijo. The Emperor and his husband each ate one of the roses and became struck with love for each other as they gazed upon each other as if seeing each other for the first time ever. Without much hesitation, Takeru and Hiyoshi went into their Chrysanthemum Bedroom and stripped off every last inch of clothing till they were clad only in those clothes in which they were born. And then, with full passion emboldened by the power of the Azure Lotuses, the Emperor and the Shogun made love unto each other with the utmost vigour. And the Emperor’s womb was soon found to have grown, to put it moderately and mildly, very thick with child. And nine months later, a child was born who was neither male nor female, but rather possessed of both male and female organs and capable of becoming whatever gender they wanted to be. And because the child was born at the first light of dawn and filled his fathers’ lives with sunshine and love, they were named Asahiko, which is a strange name that combines the Aomori word for “Morning Sun” with the Aomori word for “Child”. 

And once their child and heir was born, all of both high and low estate were summoned to give gifts and honours to the newborn heir to the throne of Aomori. In particular, there were six powerful witches who were invited to give gifts unto the child. The first Witch gave the gift of wisdom, the second Witch gave the gift of beauty, the third Witch gave the gift of strength, the fourth Witch gave the gift of leadership, and the fifth Witch gave the gift of song. However, just as the sixth and final Witch was about to give the gift of Magic, there was a storm in the courtyard and a swarm of spiders emerged from the walls of the palace and formed themselves into the Dread Queen Zarena, the Dark Sovereign of the Dreamless Realm. Zarena had discovered that the ancient contract whereby a child of House Tsuyomo would marry her son Prince Veratum was not to be honoured by Emperor Tsuyomo Takeru or by his husband Shogun Kajiya Hiyoshi. And as punishment, Zarena called down a curse upon Asahiko wherein the child would die of an enchanted snake bite to her left heel before the stroke of midnight at the end of their eighteenth birthday. The horrified Royal Guardians tried to bind Zarena and slay her with their mighty swords, but she struck them down, killing fifteen of the Royal Guardians and critically wounding another ten of them. However, the Sixth Witch offered a way out of Zarena’s curse by explaining how True Love could break open the walls of any curse and destroy even the Power of Death Herself. 

However, Emperor Takeru and Shogun Hiyoshi were not taking any chances, and a campaign of war and violence was waged against all wild snakes who might threaten Asahiko’s life (However, this was somewhat foiled because many of Aomori’s denizens adopted non-venomous snakes as their own pets and cared for them as if they were dogs or birds or cats or rabbits). Furthermore, Asahiko themself was sent to live out in the woods in the company of an old carpenter named Takeshi and his two daughters Asuka and Kaede. 

Many sad and lonely years passed by for the Emperor, the Shogun, and their people, with their only comfort being rumours of Zarena’s continued wrath and frustration. And meanwhile, Asahiko grew into a happy and cheerful but also very wise and considerate child who loved all the living creatures made by the gods and had a particular affinity for foxes. Asahiko would often go for long walks in the woods around her village (much to her adoptive father Takeshi’s intense consternation and disgust). And one day when she was hunting with her sisters in the woods, Asahiko struck down a deer with his bow and then he and Asuka and Kaede brought it home to their shared father’s cottage. However, little did they know that they were being watched by none other than Prince Veratum son of Zarena, who had been ordered by his mother Queen Zarena and his father Prince Tamuzuud to kill Asahiko once and for all so that the curse could be fulfilled. However, Prince Veratum saw no point in pursuing this ancient and ridiculous feud, and so he deliberately mistimed all three of his arrows and sent them flying off into the ethereal blue sky above the forest. Unfortunately for him, Zarena and Tamuzuud found out about what they saw as their son’s “treason” and they struck him down with furious fire, reducing him into ash and cinders with a stroke of Zarena’s right hand. And then, with that having been done, Zarena transformed her husband into a vermillion cobra and sent him to attack Asahiko in her home, ordering him to bring them down before the stroke of midnight at the end of Asahiko’s eighteenth birthday. 

And so it was that Tamuzuud the Serpent stalked Asahiko and Asuka and Kaede on their way back to their cottage. And then he lunged upon them at the start of the day’s last hour. At the third minute of the last hour, he killed Takeshi the Carpenter and Himiko the Fisherwoman with a single bite on Himiko’s left hand and Takeshi’s right hand. Then at the halfway point between the fifth and the sixth minute, he bit Asahiko upon the throat. In a state of horror and disgust, Asuka set the wicked serpent on fire while Kaede pumped him full of one-and-twenty arrows, killing Tamuzuud at last. Unfortunately, Asahiko seemed as if she was dead. 

Asuka and Kaede rushed their beloved sibling to the city of Nijo in search of a healer, only to be intercepted by Emperor Takeru and Prince Hiyoshi on the way. The grieving rulers of the land recognised their daughter and finally explained the truth unto the sisters. Asahiko’s wounded body was placed to rest in a secret bedroom where none could find or disturb it, and though the councillors of the realm begged the Emperor and his husband the Shogun not to waste much time on their daughter’s life, Takeru and Hiyoshi called upon the Sixth Witch to cast a spell upon them and their entire court so that they would sleep in exalted beauty and wonder for as long as it took for their child to awaken at last. Before that, however, Emperor Takeru trusted his sword and mirror and necklace of sacred beads to the Minister of the Treasury, the High Treasurer Hanayama Miyako, crowning her as the new Empress of Aomori. And as the Spell of Deepest Sleep was cast over all of Nijo, Empress Miyako and her court travelled on their horses and in their carriages to the city of Hirano, now the seat of government and power in the Realm of Aomori. 

One-hundred-and-thirty-five years then passed as the Hanayama Clan continued to rule over the lands once ruled by Clan Tsuyomo. And in that time, the land still flourished and entered into a golden age of art and commerce, particularly with Samtang and Songnhieu and Wancheng. Hanayama Miyako was ruler of the land for eight-and-fifty years before she passed on to the Next World and left the throne to her eldest daughter Hanayama Masako. And Hanayama Masako was Empress of the land for six-and-twenty years and three months and fourteen days before she passed on and left the throne to her eldest scion Tsuneyo. And Hanayama Tsuneyo was sovereign of Aomori for twelve years and six months and sixteen days before they themself died of weariness and premature aging because of cancer of the heart and passed their throne unto their eldest scion Hanayama Daisuke, who ruled over the lands of Aomori for sixteen years and five months and seventeen days. And the last of the Hanayama lineage to reign as sovereign over the realm of Aomori was Daisuke’s eldest son Emperor Hanayama Yasuhiro, who reigned over these lands for twenty-three years and seven months and twelve days. 

And in this age of the Hanayama Dynasty, the Old City of Nijo became a site of great pilgrimage and holy reverence for the people of all the lands around the Chrysanthemum Ocean. From Samtang to Oiliath, many princes came to try their hands at waking the beautiful scion of the Tsuyomo lineage. However, none of them could pull it off, for the curse remained strong and powerful over the beautiful Asahiko. And so the curse remained strong, and Asuka and Kaede became more and more desperate to awake their fallen sibling, turning to ancient books of lore and occult mystery in an attempt to wake the Prince/Princess. It was only in the 135th Year of the Hanayama Monarchy that Kaede of the Spear discovered the truth of how to find a wise Jinn named Shamhurasha who could give them the solution to destroying the curse that held their beloved realm and sibling hostage. And so with her sister Asuka of the Sword and Kazuhiko of the Bow (only scion and heir to Emperor Hanayama Yasuhiro), Kaede of the Spear set off for Hirano and crossed the ship in a boat that took them to Samtang. 

Then did the Three Voyagers cross many lands and nations until they found the castle of Shamhurasha and her wife the Sixth Witch in the wild and mountainous lands of what is now Solvatia. And it was here that the Sixth Witch revealed unto the Three Voyagers that only The Truest Love of All could defeat the Power of Zarena’s Curse. Disappointed and left uncertain because of the Sixth Witch’s words, the Three Voyagers passed through Jylqyzan and Wancheng until they departed from Pan Yu and returned to Nijo. 

However, midway through their voyage home, the Three Voyagers were attacked by a Leviathan sent by the wicked Shemala Olomunkatil to punish the Voyagers for interfering with the schemes of her lifelong ally Zarena. For a long while, Kazuhiko and Kaede saw no reason to fight onwards against the Leviathan now that their quest to save Asahiko and the rest of Clan Tsuyomo had seemingly failed, but Asuka of the Sword refused to give up or give in to the darkness surrounding her, and so she lured the Leviathan up to the mast of the great ship on which they had stowed away and leapt from the top of the mast and sliced her way down the Leviathan’s neck, killing it swiftly and spreading its blood all throughout the sea. Unfortunately, the ship itself was sent crashing to the shores of Hongdao and there was no way to get back on the open ocean. So Prince Kazuhiko went to a tavern in the city of Anping and asked for a vehicle of transportation to take them home to Aomori. The old fisherman Jin Huan told them of a Phoenix who lived up on the Mountain Called Honghui. Her name was Ehuang and she could fly around the whole entire world in forty-five minutes. And so on the Fisherman’s suggestion, the Three Voyagers all ascended the Mountain Called Honghui and met Ehuang at its peak. Sadly, she was wounded gravely and could not fly, for there was a jewelled spear embedded in her left claw. Kazuhiko, being a virtuous prince, took pity on the Phoenix and used their powers of healing to remove the Jewelled Spear from the Phoenix’s Claw and they were amazed to discover that it was the same Jewelled Spear with which Tsukura and Eienoto were said to have raised all the islands of the Chrysanthemum Ocean, Aomori most of all. And with the Jewelled Spear, Kazuhiko healed Queen Ehuang’s wounds and in gratitude, the Phoenix Queen lifted all three of the Voyagers up onto her back and flew them to the vicinity of Nijo. 

Unfortunately, the Queen of Phoenixes was spotted by a group of Oni (Thirteen all in all) as she flew above the outskirts of Nijo, and they were able to shoot her down with a giant crossbow through the groin. The Oni then took the whole group captive and decided to have Ehuang cut up and eaten for dinner while the Three Voyagers would be returned unto Hirano for a hefty ransom. However, Kaede of the Spear was by fortunate chance a lover of riddles and so was Akatsuno King of the Thirteen Oni. So Kaede decided to sit down with King Akatsuno to do riddles and debate philosophy over the course of dinner. And within an hour and a half, Akatsuno decided to release Ehuang from her bonds and captivity and allowed Kazuhiko and Asuka and Kaede to travel onwards into Nijo. 

Soon enough did the Three Voyagers reach the Chamber of the Leaping Deer in which Asahiko was asleep and poured some of the Leviathan’s Blood and Ehuang’s Four Feathers into the drinking horn that King Akatsuno had given unto them and put the mixture unto Asahiko’s lips. And because this drink was laced with all the love that had driven the Three Voyagers to journey across the world and slay Shemala’s pet Leviathan and give succour and healing unto Queen Ehuang and give friendship and companionship and amity unto King Akatsuno to save their friend, it succeeded in breaking Zarena’s curse and Asahiko was finally awakened from her enchanted sleep. And then once he was awakened, all of the courtiers and royal family members around Asahiko also awakened from their sleep and dreams. And then at last were Emperor Takeru and Prince-Shogun Hiyoshi reunited with their beloved scion, and there was much love and rejoicing all around. 

Unfortunately, Zarena was soon made wholly aware of what had become of her once fearsome and terrible curse, and she turned into a sphere of purple fire and flew like a meteor unto Nijo’s beautiful harbour. In her state of endless ire and intense rage, Zarena dove into the sea as a ball of crimson fire and emerged as a great and terrible Sea Cobra whose head was all enshrouded in a hurricane of orange fire. And with this new and powerful form, Zarena unleashed a storm of raging fire and fiery winds upon the city of Nijo, laying waste to all in her path as she bit towards the Palace of Clan Tsuyomo. 

However, little did she know that there was in fact an unintended side effect to all of her machinations. For because she had imbued some of her own magic into Tamuzuud’s cobra form so that he could carry out her will and destroy Asahiko once and for all, some of the magic (or rather, almost all of the magic she had given unto her husband’s serpent form) had leaked into Asahiko’s veins and bloodstream, giving them large amounts of Zarena’s fearsome power. And during Asahiko’s thirteen-and-a-half decades of endless sleep, he had learned to walk in the Realm of Dreams and had seen much of the world during this time of endless rest, including learning how to survive in Zarena’s Dreamless Realm. As a result, he made the decision to take up the Jewelled Spear and enter the Dreamless Realm to confront the terrible Zarena. And there a fight began between Asahiko and Zarena, which ended when Asahiko finally drove the Jewelled Spear straight through Zarena’s heart, causing her to be torn apart by Light from the inside before shattering apart and exploding into shards of diamond crystal. 

Upon finally returning to the Mortal Realm, Tsuyomo Asahiko and Hanayama Kazuhiko married each other in a forest temple as Kazuhiko’s father Yasuhiro and his mother Matsudaira Eiko relinquished their crown and relics unto Emperor Takeru, who promptly reassumed the throne alongside his husband and reigned for another forty-six years before finally passing away at the biological age of three-and-eighty three years before his husband came to join him. And with his death, Asahiko became the new Sovereign of the land of Aomori and sat on the throne with Kazuhiko for six-and-seventy years and five months and thirteen days. During their time on the throne, Kazuhiko and Asahiko had two twin children, Mitsuru the Wisest of Priests and Kantaro the Great Warrior. Tsuyomo Mitsuru resigned their rights to the Lotus Throne and became a great philosopher-priest watching over a high mountain temple dedicated to the God of the Moon. However, Tsuyomo Kantaro remained in the Palace and trained to become the great ruler he was always meant to be. 

All the while though, there was the bittersweet knowledge that Asahiko was now immortal and would never age like her family, and he was forced to live forever and be eternally young and beautiful as his family grew old and tired around him. And on the fourth day of the eighth month of the seventy-sixth year of Asahiko’s reign, Kazuhiko finally passed away in his sleep from pneumonia and Asahiko knew it was time to resign the Lotus Throne. Eight days later, Prince Kantaro became the new Emperor of the Land of Aomori as his Womb Parent walked out to the harbour to find a boat to take them to new and distant lands. Kantaro of course reigned wisely and well for two-and-twenty years and eight months and eleven days before passing on and leaving the throne unto his son Tsuyomo Shigeru, who ruled for thirty-eight years and six months and thirteen days…yet Asahiko themself is still alive in the world, travelling all of Tellus having adventures and searching for the meaning of all existence in all the lands of humankind. May they indeed one day find it.

@whencartoonsruletheworld @cynicalclassicist @dachi-chan25 @uncleasriel @carcosa-commune @forestelfin

[astrosfaerydae]

Love is the Death of Peace of Mind || Chanlix

Chapter 15: The Things They Carried

[word count: 5.9]

Summary:

Felix is too drunk to talk. But they need to talk, desperately. They get around to that eventually... and maybe some more chaos.

Tags/Notes:

CW// mentions of death, panic, blood, referenced homophobia, religious trauma, alcohol, hangovers, Vomit, mild sexual encounter(I wouldn't call it smut I don't think 🤷‍♀️)

If I forgot anything let me know

Uhhhh there's a lot going on in this chapter that I didn't plan at all. Blame chanlix they did it not me!!! Enjoy ☺️

[Fic Masterlist]

[ducotte-real]

RRAAAAHH MY AP ART HISTORY EXTRA CFEDIT ASSIGNMENT THAT BROUGH MY MFIN GPA UP TO A 3.0

The assignment was to make a symbolic collage, reference historical art pieces/movements/motifs, and then explain it. My teacher was merciful and let me draw! (She was vicious and malicious and made me write about each subject on the page. Four pages worth of words all abt the piece. Uargeh)

For the message w the symbols I talked about examining the perversion of women thru the lens of religion and Christian iconography, the male gaze, power dynamics, that kind of stuff. I can link the essay later I’m hella tired rn

(UNDER THE CUT!!! CW for mild nudity, religious iconography, omnetophobia, light body horror, || TW for topics about abuse/misogyny/sexualization)

Yahoo

[kiitchensiink]

.:kink & CW list:.

a list of all the content warnings you may find on this blog, please use the word & tag block functions to blacklist any that may make you uncomfortable.

I'll periodically add to this list so there's probably something new often as I remember it lol

Real talk a lot of these are very personal and it helps me to write about stuff in a way that projects into my blorbos so ya lol enter at ur own risk

My blog is 16+ only please don't follow if you're under legal age!!

.:Soft & Vanilla:.

•Kissing, Cuddling, PDA

•Genitalia, [in both cis and trans contexts]

•Cum & Bodily fluids

•Body worship, Devoted/Devotee

•Size difference [Micro/Macro included]

.:Medium & Mild:.

•Light BDSM [Striking], [Restraints], [Dominant/Submissive], [Gagging & Binding], [Choking & Breathplay], [Power Imbalance], [Indoctrination & Oppression]

•Breeding

•Insults & Humiliation

•Clone & Autophilia

•Overstimulation

•Dubcon

•Risk & Bodily Harm, [Violence], [Bloodplay], [Peril], [Self Harm], [Discussions of trauma & mental health], [Drugs & Alcohol], [Drowning & Suffocating]

•Religious Symbolism & Hierophilia, God Complexes

•Petplay & Dehumanisation

.:Hard & Spicy:.

CONTENT WARNING

Reader discretion is advised, please be sure to keep yourself safe if any of these topics distress you.

It's perfectly okay to be uncomfortable, and I will do my absolute best to tag everything. However, keep a level of personal responsibility, and block any tags or words that may upset or trigger you.

Many of these specific contents have personal significance to me and personal catharsis. These subjects may be too intense for some blog visitors. Yes I'm in therapy lol. u have been Warned.

//

•Weaponsplay

•Gore & Mutilation, [Suicide & Baiting], [Major Character Death], [Dismemberment], [Disembowelment]

•Stalking & Obsession

•Werewolf ABO stuff idk [Knotting], [Scent Marking]

•Overdose & Drug Mixing

•Medical & Hospital Mention [Medical Trauma Depictions], [Nurse/Caregiver Kink], [Invasive Medical Procedures], [Medical Mutilation]

•Noncon & Violence [Sexual Torture], [Forced Submission], [Intense Scenes], [No Limits BDSM]

•Death/Deathplay [Assisted Suicide], [Murder], [Fake Death], [Gratuitous Scenes of Violence]

[lee-etc]

Hello everyone,, so this is just a little post about some murders from Hannibal for @onabikaa :)

(original conversation for context is here)

CW for fire, nudity, blood, gore, and disturbing imagery. Mild spoilers for Hannibal season 1 - I've tried not to spoil anything major, though.

So, those murders are from season 1, specifically Episode 5 and Episode 8. Also, I hate to be the one to break it to you but neither Will nor Hannibal are responsible for the murders talked about in this post - season 1 consists of Will acting as a special FBI agent who is assigned to help solve the crimes, and these are the crimes of two murderers who he has been tasked to find. Hannibal does kill in season one, but the majority of his victims are beautifully disguised atop dinner plates instead of being outright displayed in some sort of messed-up art installation, if you know what I mean.

However, this does not mean that the other murderers in season 1 are insignificant. Hannibal is an excellent show because these murderers and their efforts are able to reflect or bring light to the current state the main characters. For example, in episode 5, the Angel-Maker's relationship to his ex-wife relates to the relationship between Jack Crawford and his own wife, and this helps Jack realize some things about his marriage. Overall, it all goes back to the main characters and their relationships with one another (and themselves).

Anyways. Let's look over the murders, shall we?

S01 E05 - The Angel-Maker

The Angel-Maker's moniker reflects his act of removing the skin of his victim's backs and creating 'wings'. Each of his murders are quite striking, and I've included the two that aren't really spoilers (in my opinion).

In the murder pictured above, the investigators discover that the Angel-Maker actually slept in the bed after arranging his victims in this manner. Will believes that this is because the Angel-Maker is afraid of dying in his sleep, and thus made 'angels' to watch over him.

What's interesting to note is that the Angel-Maker was not a religious man. The reason he made angels to watch over him was because of a near-death experience as a child, after which a fireman told him that he must have had a guardian angel looking after him.

The Angel-Maker is, like most of the murderers in the show, mentally unstable. However, his instability is a result of an illness that is killing him slowly. This illness impacts his brain, which in turn causes him to hallucinate. There's an element of dramatic irony as we, the audience, learn who the angel maker is before the characters do. We see the Angel-Maker pick out his victims, who are shown as people with flaming heads. These flaming heads, like the angels, relate back to his childhood experience.

An example of a flaming head is pictured below.

The Angel-Maker only kills those whose heads he sees on fire. Again, although he was not considered religious, later on it is revealed that he has only killed those who have 'sinned' - either by murdering a person or committing some sort of immoral crime.

Once the angel-maker is found by the police, Will thinks that, if he were to meet the Angel-Maker, then he would see Will's head in flames.

Pictured below is the man whose head was in flames in the previous image, after the Angel-Maker has killed him.

S01 E08 - Trombone Player Murder

I can't say much about this one because a LOT of it veers into spoiler territory, but as you know, neither Will nor Hannibal killed this man (a trombone player, hence the name I've given his murder).

This murder is one of the most important ones in season 1 though, because the murderer knows Hannibal and has discovered a few of his secrets.

Like Hannibal, this murderer was at first content with using his kills in a practical and disguised manner. However, after learning of Hannibal's existence, he grew interested in Hannibal, as both of them are similar. One could say that this murder was an act of showing off for Hannibal, so he could learn that him and the murderer were alike.

The murderer himself is highly skilled in making instruments, which allowed for him to be able to pull of the logistics of this murder. The victim's vocal cords are intended to produce sound when played - this is shown in the second image where Will is in the mind of the murderer and is playing the victim as the murderer would.

This may be the only murder that the murderer got to display, but it's a worthwhile legacy due to the chilling intricacy of the piece.

And that's all, I think! I hope you enjoyed the read. Have a great day/night.

[shutterlens]

[cw/tw: vent, cursing, mental health issues, discussion of reblog baiting and share-baiting, mild Christianity-related religious trauma, mental hospital potentially distressing content]

Internet chain letters are coming back with a vengeance and that scares the living shit out of me.

Ever since I saw the first form that I saw it take in 2015 when I was 12 years old at latest (maybe a year or two earlier but I don't remember the specifics) as those messages in the comments of those old Flash game web sites warning of some dire curse had the reader not shared it in a specific way, the debilitating fear that it struck in me with its near-guarantee of a threat of a horrible life still haunted me even to this day no matter how hard I tried to fight it and regardless of the fact that I avoided reposting those chain letters every time I saw them.

The first time I saw the comeback of chain letter content on the Internet was on add-yours Instagram stories, more particularly those with captions such as "add yours or bad [month]", occassionally requiring a more specific kind of photo to avoid such horrible luck and also occasionally specifying what said bad luck would be, e.g.- bad grades for "skipping" the add-yours story.

Every time I saw one of those, that old instinct that I got when I was a kid came back, that old instinct of fearing for my future, fearing for how my life would turn out, that old familiar feeling that something horrible would happen to me had I not shared that post around, it all came back. The way I always coped with that feeling worked until my recent institutionalization (also, no, I will not be using "softer", more invalidating terminology as I refuse to trivialize this traumatic experience that I have gone through) on October 4 this year (albeit an unusually lucky experience considering my circumstances).

A few days ago, about October 1 if I remember correctly, I saw one of those "add your or bad [month]" type posts from the Instagram account of someone I met at my local LGBTQ club at my college. After my experience with being forced into the Psychiatric section of that horrible hospital I was basically imprisoned in for more than a quarter of a day (seven entire hours), I started to feel like it was my fault that this happened (and not just from all the victim-blaming that I got both throughout and after the trauma. I talked more about it in a previous vent that I marked as "mature"), that it was my fault that God punished me with this inevitable event because I decided not to share that Instagram story.

The caption, that damn caption, it still haunts me to this day.

"pic or bad October".

It still echoes in my head, taunting me even to this day. Even when I knew that not adding to that was doing a favor for both myself and those who are distressed by share-baiting, the Web 2.0 equivalent of internet chain letters, it still feels like all the bad things in my life that I've gone through so far were my fault, all because I didn't add my photo in that add-yours story.

I logically know that this is irrational, that I shouldn't be experiencing this punishingly debilitating anxiety over something that should seem immensely trivial to me, but I just can't stop feeling this sense of guilt and shame for not sharing these Web 2.0 chain letters.

The only time I've succumbed to this debilitating anxiety was here on my Tumblr account, with my first experience encountering reblog bait.

The first time I saw these posts from the people I was following, things like "moral obligation to reblog this", "reblog if your blog is aspec-friendly", "reblog if you're not a bigot", "reblog if you even remotely give half a shit about the people you've managed to befriend on this God-forsaken website and won't just abandon them in two seconds", "reblog if you're not a horrible person who deserves to burn in a periwinkle incandescent lake of sulfur flames forever",

I just caved.

I caved into that instinct and shared those kinds of posts so I wouldn't be a horrible person, so I can prove myself to be even remotely decent, even though I may see now in retrospect how I've done horrible, permanent damage to the mental health of those who are most deeply affected by this type of content, the people with OCD, people who experience psychosis in some way (I've only had experience with the latter (I do not have OCD myself) as my high school has labelled my overgrown inner critic who is technically not a separate person or entity from me in any way as I completely own my mind and body and Inner Voice is just a parasite that's way too big, but can use the motor and vocal parts of my brain to abuse me through my own body and voice as had been done before since early High School when Inner Voice first started existing, which a Social Worker from my high school diagnosed as such, as "Generalized Psychosis"), and certainly far more of the most vulnerable and disenfranchised in this world.

To the people that I have hurt, I am truly and undeniably sorry. I am fully aware that the actions that I have done to hurt you by reblogging this type of content has immensely and irreversably hurt your mental wellbeing in an undescribably painful way, and I promise to do whatever I can to learn from my mistakes and do better in the future.

To the people (yes, even my mutuals) who share reblog bait on their blogs: I will not be reblogging these reblog bait posts that you have shared for the mental well-being of both myself and others, even if I may immensely value you as a friend, even if we are mutuals. I refuse to feed into my fear once again by sharing those types of posts.

[tharros-auris-black-asimi]

Warmth

Pairing: Alpha Beefy Bucky x Female Mutant Reader

Summary: Being paired off with Bucky Barnes on a mission was hard enough. Hell, the two of you being a part of Hydra a long time ago was already hard enough. But when the two of you are forced to seek shelter in an Avengers safehouse, it gets even worse.

Because there's only one freaking bed.

Will you survive the night with the grumpy Alpha by your side? Or will you rip your hair out?

Who knows. The nights are unpredictable.

What you do know is, is that Bucky Barnes is too fucking hot for his damn good.

Maybe you just might pull your hair out.

Warnings: Heavy A/B/O dynamics. Mentions of past torture from Hydra for both Bucky and the Reader. This Bucky is sort of a mix between CW!Bucky, (hence the beefy!Bucky), but also TFATWS!Bucky bc I love grumpy old man, sassy Bucky. Some angst/hurt/comfort, because I'm a hoe for angst. No heats/ruts in this lil fic, just good ole rough smut. Some biting and some mild blood too. This sex would be considered unprotected irl, but in the a/b/o verse, I don't think you'd need protection??? Who knows. Italics are for when Bucky and the Reader are talking in Russian. The Reader also has a nightmare, which ties back in with the whole mention of past torture from Hydra. If I missed any other warnings in this, let me know and I'll make sure to add them!

Additional Notes: This was written for @agentofbarnes's writing challenge! Congrats on 7k, Zee! I'm sorry this took so long. I started writing this in July, and let it marinate for far too long. But it's here now. I hope you enjoy!

All writing mistakes in this fic are mine, as usual.

Word Count: 4,602

Hell.

This was absolute pure fucking hell.

As you and the former Winter Soldier, James "Bucky" Barnes himself stared at the front door of one of the safehouses for the Avengers in case of emergencies, you couldn't help make eye contact with him.

Great. This was just great.

No one, not even Clint had told you that it would be snowing in freaking January in rural Ohio, of all places.

Then again, you had faintly remembered doing gymnastics before you had been taken by Hydra with some arrogant Alpha guy named Lance. He had been a real pain in your ass and you remembered you had made him cry once. After you had escaped from Hydra, you had bumped into him again. Funnily enough, he was still just as scared of you as he was all those years ago. Which, you know, was nice.

But what was not nice was the Alpha that was currently looking back at you. James Buchanan Barnes, Bucky, Buck, White Panther, Jesus, Bionic Staring Machine- (the last three nicknames, all given to him by the Alpha Sam Wilson himself), scowled at you. His blue eyes even narrowed at you.

You wouldn't call what you and Bucky had a friendship. You two weren't even enemies. Heck, colleagues? Teammates? That was just putting it lightly, the relationship you had with the Alpha. Even when you had been captured and brainwashed into serving Hydra, the two of you had never crossed paths. It had been only after Hydra had fallen, did the two of you actually meet in person. Other than that, nothing. Nada. Nope. No with a capital N.O.

"Come on, let's go." Bucky all but grumbled. Realizing he didn't have the key to get inside, he looked at you. Like you had the key or something.

"James, I don't have the key." Bucky groaned. "Do you have a bobby pin, Omega? Something?" He asked in Russian. You plucked a bobby pin from your hair. A stray piece of hair fell. Putting the flat side in, you managed to unlock the door. You turned to look at him, giving him a toothy grin.

"Learned that from Pit Pocketing for Dummies, 101."

Bucky rolled his eyes at that. You just sniggered as you opened the door, greeted by cool air smacking against your face.

It made you shiver.

Because, unlike Bucky, you did not have any of that good ole supersoldier serum in your veins.

You were a mutant that could control water. Sometimes, you wished that you had the ability to control fire, because then, at least you could be warm in such dire situations such as these.

Taking your shoes off and putting them at the door, you surveyed the place.

It was a small house. Like a cozy little cottage. Probably only had at least two rooms at the max. It certainly gave off that vibe. There was a fireplace in the living room. A fully furnished kitchen, complete with a little wooden table with benches instead of individual chairs near the window.

Your grip on your bag of clothes became tighter as you realized that you needed to take a shower. Your stomach grumbled, alerting Bucky that you were hungry. Your comms had died. The two of you could contact no one until you charged them.

Which meant for at least tonight, or whenever the snowstorm outside stopped, you only had Bucky Barnes for company.

Well. That certainly would be pleasant.

"Go and shower first. I'll make dinner."

***

After your shower, you walked back into the kitchen, your sweet smell that reminded Bucky of deserts that his Ma used to make for him and his younger sisters back in Brooklyn drifted towards his nose. Thanks to the serum, he had already smelled it a mile away.

Cinamon rolls. Apple turnovers. Apple pies. Pumpkin pies. Bucky felt his Alpha rumble at the smell. Even Winter stirred at the familiar scent he loved so much.

When Bucky had gotten the trigger words wiped away from him due to Princess Shuri's genius, the Winter Soldier hadn't gone away from him. Rather, Winter had become a part of Bucky. Winter had been what Bucky became to survive Hydra. Winter was Bucky, only darker. More possessive. The deepest, darkest thing of him that the Wakandan Elders had helped him find again and reconcile with.

It was during times like this, making dinner in the kitchen that reminded him so much of his time back in Wakanda. Taking care of his farm and his pet goats, (that he sadly couldn't bring back with him when coming back to America), that he missed the most. It was domestic, in a way. He could almost feed into the fantasy, the thought that you were his Omega, his Bondmate, and that he was just making dinner for you.

From an outsider's perspective, it might've looked like Bucky didn't like you. That he just tolerated you. Treated you like how he treated everyone else in his life.

But it was the contrary.

He liked you.

He liked you very, very much. Other than Steve, Natalia, and heck, even the winged pigeon- you were one of the only people to truly understand him. You were probably even on the same playing field as Natalia, because you knew what it was like to be controlled by the Russian government. You held him at an arm's length at most, and you never treated him like he was some fragile, broken man. When you treated his wounds, you never fretted like other Omega's. Nor did you dottle. Ask him if he was okay every five seconds. It was disappointing in a way.

Bucky turned his head, just as you hopped yourself onto the counter, away from the conduction stove.

The smell of butter pasta was filling your nose. You watched with rapt attention as Bucky shut off the stove, grabbed the freshly grated cheese, and dumping it in. To hell with calories. Stirring quickly for a few seconds, he stopped. Turning his head to look at you, he gave you a low smirk. His scent of something sandalwood, oceany filling your nose. It made your Omega preen.

"Get some bowls, will ya doll? And forks too." Hopping off of the countertops, he heard a chirping, yet sarcastic reply.

"Yes, Sarge."

He felt his pants tighten at the thought. Hearing you grab all of the stuff, he swallowed.

Not that he would tell you that.

No.

Never.

***

"Oh, you've gotta be fucking with me."

So, as luck would have it. There weren't two bedrooms.

Nope.

There was only one.

Not only that, the entire room was fully furnished. A closet was on the left side of the door, against the wall. There was a window and just a bit to right, in the middle of the room, was a queen-sized bed, all made up with all the fluffiest blankets, comforters, and pillows imaginable.

"And you're sure this is the only room?" Bucky said. "Yeah! It's the only one, James. It's either this or the couch. And I'm not sleeping on the couch. It's too cold. Whoever built this safehouse didn't have any heaters built in either. Fuck, is this how I die? Freezing to death?" Your voice was getting higher with concern.

Bucky just rolled his eyes.

"No, doll. You're not to freeze to death. We're going to share that bed."

You turned your head towards him like he had just grown a second head. "What?" you exclaimed. "No. No, no, no. Noooo. James. Nu-uh. Uh-uh. I'm not going to sleep with you in my tank top and underwear. the least you've seen me in is a pair of short shorts and a tank top."

Bucky inhaled deeply through his nostrils.

Get yourself together Barnes.

Don't throw her over your shoulder.

Don't do that.

"You're a water mutant, doll. You're not a fire mutant. You aren't a supersoldier either. I'm not letting you freeze to death. I'll keep you warm all night. Better yet, don't sleep in your tank top and shorts. Our body heats will do just fine." Bucky snapped at you. You were still trying to collect your thoughts.

And then the realization, the reality of your situation, smacked you right across the face.

Bucky was asking you to sleep naked.

With him.

In the same frigging bed together.

Oh you were going to die. You were going to die and go up to wherever other spirits went to after they died. You weren't really all that religious nor spiritual.

But tonight though?

Yeah. Maybe you believed. Maybe a little.

Just the slightest bit.

"Okay, okay," you grumbled, "I won't wear any clothes. Better yet, I'll even give you a show. That'll even out the odds, James."

***

Warm.

He was just oh so warm.

Your back was flush against his front, feeling skin-on-skin.

You had stopped shivering about an hour ago.

Bucky had scouted the safehouse, to see if there was actually a heater, in case you had missed anything.

Nope.

There were no heaters in the safehouse.

Absolutely none.

Not to mention, all of the blankets weren't as thick. From what Bucky had observed a few hours ago after dinner while you had tackled the task of doing the dishes, was that the safe house had been abandoned for a while. It was either that, or nobody had stocked this place up for a while.

He had chosen the latter.

With his strong arms wrapped around your stomach, he pulled you close. You were asleep. Dead asleep. Bucky felt and saw your body rise up and down as you slept, your breaths all evened out.

It was nice, almost. Outside was quiet. Bucky could hear other than your breathing only the soft wind blowing due to the snowstorm outside.

For a moment, Bucky was lulled into a sense of calm. His mind was clear. His Alpha and Winter were quiet. He didn't have to fret. Or look over his shoulder. Didn't have to second guess himself or his actions anymore.

And then he heard it.

Soft whimpers coming from the sweet-smelling Omega that he was currently holding in his arms. You had begun to squirm, arms thrashing out. Your legs smacked on his knees, trying to desperately claw yourself free from his tightening grip on you.

"... I'll be good... just don't chuck me in the freezer again... please sir... I hate it there... please don't chuck me in the freezer, please..." you were sobbing in your sleep. You started to blubber, continually trying to claw yourself out of Bucky's grip. The metal plates of his Vibrainum arm shifted as his metal fingers tightened around your stomach. Bucky knew not to apply too much pressure on you- you weren't like him, Steve, or Natalia. You didn't have the serum in you.

"Doll? Hey, doll. C'mon, wake up. It's not real." Bucky tried shaking you awake to no avail. You had continued to thrash in his arms.

Sniffling loudly, your Omega was thrashing in her cage, in the confines of your mind. She was whispering, yelling at you to wake up.

"Omega. Wake up."

Bucky didn't mean to use his Tone. But you were being so hysterical, shaking, and crying to the point where it was beginning to worry him. Your sweet scent had begun to twist and turn into something more burnt. Singed. It made his eyes water.

You stopped thrashing in his grip. Your body froze up at his use of his Tone. Your Omega stopped throwing her temper tantrum too. She had paused for a second.

Her Alpha had given her a Command.

So why wouldn't she listen?

Peering from her cage in the confines of your mind, she sighed happily.

Alpha. Alpha cares about us. She whispered in your ear.

Slowly returning to consciousness, you struggled to know where you were for a second.

You had been having a nightmare.

A full-fledged nightmare.

You hadn't had one of those in a while.

"... Where am I?" Your voice was gentle but confused.

You still didn't know if you were still in that godforsaken Hydra facility or not. But you just wanted to make sure.

"Here, doll. You're here with me. We're in Ohio, remember? Sharin' one bed together cause I don't wanna be a bad Alpha and letcha freeze to death." Bucky said.

You couldn't help it. You snuggled into him, hearing a deep rumble coming from his chest. Bucky's Alpha was pleased. Very pleased. Winter was quiet. Which surprised Bucky. The little shit was usually more vocal about his own needs these days.

For a moment, it felt okay. You felt that weird fog lifting. Your brain slowly settling in your current surroundings. Your sweet, filling scent that had twisted and burnt into something smoky and burnt was slowly wearing off.

You were still a little shaken up. You could still hear your screaming echoing in your head. Your voice trembling, and because you didn't know if you were still stuck in the facility, "How long?"

"Not long."

Bucky watched as you lifted your head up, blinking once. And then twice. And then again, just to be sure.

Your body felt like it still wasn't physically here. Your body still felt like it was back in the cryo chamber, stuck in that damn freezer. Bucky watched your chest heave up and down. Taking in deep breaths.

Then you flopped right back into your previous spot, your back facing his front. Bucky pulled you back with his metal arm. You heard the metal plates in his arm readjust and move. You couldn't help it. Your vagina throbbed at the sound. Chewing on your bottom lip, you wiggled a little bit.

A deep rumble had come from Bucky.

The metal-armed Alpha had pushed a little bit of his weight down on you. Making you feel all warm and safe with the sandalwood and salty scent wrapped all around you like a cocoon.

You wiggled up against him again, trying to get comfortable. Your eyes closed.

A deep groan came from Bucky.

Was he asleep?

You stopped moving.

Another groan came from Bucky. His arms were wrapped around you. Not tightly, but still. It was kinda nice in a way. You could feel every muscle on his broad chest against your back.

Maybe Bucky had the right idea to sleep naked after all.

You shifted again. Trying to wiggle out a little out of the embrace.

A deep growl rumbled from Bucky. His grip on you tightened. You squirmed against him again.

Voice gravelly, "Stop moving."

Your eyes flew open.

He was awake.

And you had been-

Letting out a hiss, Bucky pushed his entire weight onto you and grinded his half-hard cock against your ass cheeks. Not even caring about if his entire weight would crush you, because of the serum.

He saw red.

Pure absolute red.

You choked. A needy little whimper filled the room.

Bucky's metal hand traveled down, all the way down to your pussy, his knee pushing your legs apart. You were panting in anticipation, eyes wide as saucers. His metal fingers were shoved deep, all the way to the knuckles. A pitiful whine left your lips. A needy whine too.

When he entered you, a choked sob escaped from your lips. Your hands curled into fists, eyes rolling into the back of your head as the formerly brainwashed assassin let out a growl.

"So sick and tired of you teasin' me," was what the former Winter Soldier growled under his breath, hissing at the way your cunt wrapped around him. Slick was smeared around your inner thighs, and you couldn't help but sob at the feeling of being so full.

Bucky was groaning above you, his hands nearing shaking.

Never had he ever thought he could ever get to do this again.

Because Bucky very much still liked sex. He very much so was a sexual creature. Being inside you gave him flashes of his life before Hydra. It made him remember a much skinner, smaller Steve. A much duller, war-stricken Brooklyn. It made him remember the giggles of Omegas. It made him remember his Ma's cooking growing up. Rebecca's giggles in his ears. Just like the old times.

Not for the first time in his life, he didn't feel trapped.

He felt free.

This was freeing to him.

And when he began to move, position his hips against your back, smacking roughly. Good enough to leave marks in the morning.

Wet, squishing noise echoed noisily every time he bottomed out of you. Every thrust in, filling you, completing you. It sent you gasping and crying out into the pillows. His hands- both metal and flesh, reached under you, to grab ahold of your breasts in a tight grip that only made you sob for more.

"More, more, more, please James, please-"

Something snapped in him.

Broke.

Bucky had never felt this feral before. The last time he felt this feral had been the hours when he first presented.

You whined loudly when he slid out of you, crying out at the empty feeling. Your Omega screeched in alarm.

Why had her Alpha stopped? Why?

Grabbing ahold of your legs, he lifted them up. Before he thrusted back in again, filling you up to the brim. It was deeper than last time, and his cock hit that spongy part. Hit your g-spot so good that you screamed into the pillows.

You were coming. You were coming so fast, that deep coil inside you snapping like a bomb wire being cut that you never got the chance to feel your programs. Your body jolted, spasmed. Your legs lifted off of the bed or at least tried to. Bucky's body weight was still keeping you down. So all you could do was grip the bedsheets when Bucky started to pound into you again, taking all he could.

You couldn't help yourself. You glanced back, just to take a glimpse of him.

James Buchanan Barnes looked downright feral and your pussy clenched around him deeper at the sight. as if she knew.

Every thrust made him go deeper, hitting your cervix every time. It made your second orgasm piggyback off of your first one, sobbing into the pillows. It was only when your second orgasm came, your walls clenching down onto his cock that Bucky's teeth sank into your shoulder, shattering, breaking the skin there. The taste of copper filling his mouth. Bucky let out a grunt as he came. Filling you up with so much of his jizz that he was sure it would drip from you tomorrow morning.

Bucky lifted his mouth from your shoulder.

Pants filled the room as the two of you tried to regain yourselves.

Bucky shifted, moving off of you and lying beside you. His eyes weren't black anymore. They were back to their normal blue. They reminded you of the sea in the morning on a peaceful day.

Your hand came to touch his face. Your hand faltered, trembled though. Because you were nervous.

"It's okay," his voice was deeper, huskier. It made your pussy throb. "You can touch me. It's okay."

Your hands came to touch, cup his jaw. You leaned in, pressing your lips against his. His lips were soft. Your lips moved together, his tongue slipping into your mouth. The kiss became deeper. You hadn't expected it to become deeper. You had been just going for an innocent kiss.

You swore.

Like- you really did.

You didn't expect to be fully making out with James Buchanan Barnes.

But it wasn't like you were complaining though.

Because you weren't.

Bucky was the first one to pull away. He could see how red, bruised your lips looked. He didn't recoil from your gentle touch on his face. He welcomed it. He truly did. Hands holding your hips, he looked at you.

His lips traveled down to your mating gland. He touched over it with his tongue, giving it a broad lick. His teeth sank in, piercing the skin.

Your ears popped. You cried out. His grip on your hips didn't falter.

"Yes, yes, yes," you gasped. Bucky lifted his mouth up from your gland, before sinking his teeth back in and biting again. Making his mark all that deeper.

It was only when he lifted his mouth from your gland, wiped your blood off of him with the blanket did you come at him, sinking your teeth into his gland. It made him grunt, even groan. His flesh hand came to your head, pushing your head down, making you sink your teeth even deeper into his gland.

"Yesss," hissed Bucky, his flesh hand sinking into your hair, gripping it. "Deeper, doll. Go deeper."

Winter and his Alpha completely agreed.

Theirs.

You were theirs.

After what seemed an eternity, you lifted your head up. Wiping your mouth on the blanket, you spoke.

"I missed you. What did you do to get us paired on this mission? I thought I was going with Sam," you said to your Alpha. A smirk stretched over Bucky's lips. "Ah," your Alpha said, still smirking, "I might've put something in his drink to make him vomit his guts out. He got sick."

A noise came from you.

"You gave him food poisoning? James!" You scolded him. Bucky leaned back against the headboard. "Don't worry doll, it'll wear off when we come back to the Compound. Bird Brain won't even know what hit him."

You shook your head in disbelief.

"You're unbelievable, Sasha. Did you teach Natalia that trick, too? Hmm? She and all of your Widow students?"

Bucky was still grinning ear to ear at you when he responded back.

"Well little bird, someone had to teach them. After all, I was their teacher. They all called me Yasha. Speaking of my Widow students..." he trailed off in Russian. You looked at him.

"You've contacted one of the KBG? About that leaked Russian tape with the orange man that is, unfortunately, our President?" He asked you. You nodded. "Yeah, Sasha. Everything's going as planned. Although, I think assassinating the orange man would've been a much better option. We would've gone in there and made it a done deal by now! Fuckin' Steve and his righteous self." You grumbled unhappily.

"Hmm. It would've been great as a date night. Don't you think, doll?" Bucky drawled. You gave a serious nod.

"Although... seeing him freak out on Twitter is much, much better. The tea is better when it's hot." You grinned. Bucky just let out a sigh.

"I'm restricting your phone privileges. And your TV privileges. You need to stop watching those drama channels, Mega."

A noise of deep discomfort came from you.

"Sasha!" you whined, "then what will I do while you're gone on missions?"

"Wait for me to come back?" Bucky suggested. You just sighed. Even shook your head in fondest. You happily snuggled up to your Alpha, your nose rubbing up against your Mate's gland. "I always wait for you to come back, Sasha. I wait and I worry. I love you, James."

A deep rumble came from your Mate.

"I love you too, Little Omega."

Your head peeked up.

"So, can we tell the rest of the team when I leak the tape?" You asked, your eyes glimmering with mischief.

Bucky burst out laughing.

"Yes, yes, yes. We can tell them once you've wreaked havoc, Omega."

"Good." You were nodding seriously, in complete agreement. "It'll be fun. And... also, I forgot to tell you."

The joyful expression on Bucky's face was suddenly replaced with one of worry.

"What? What is it?" He asked gently. "When you were gone for your last mission two months ago... I... I came off of my suppressants. I'm ready, James. I want a family with you."

Shock flickered over Bucky's face. And then he was shoving you back into the bed with a shriek coming from you.

"When's your pre-heat?" He demanded.

You felt it. A cramp. It made you whimper.

"N-Now, James. Now," you stammered. Your Alpha pulled your legs apart roughly before he thrusted back into you, making you gasp.

"Say it," he hissed. "Say you want it. Say you want my knot. Say you want my pups."

"I want it, James." Your voice was a low whisper, even staggering a little bit. "I want your knot. I want your pups. Please. Please, Sasha."

His hands, both metal, and flesh gripped your shoulder tight as that vein of his neck nearly popped. His eyes were black with want. Soon, his Rut would be upon him and he'd breed you. Put his pup in you. You'd carry his pup. He'd have the pack that Winter and his Alpha desperately wanted after all these years.

A whine came from you when he pulled out, only to let out a scream when he thrusted back in. Hitting that part of you that made your eyes roll into the back of your head. Your mouth fell open, but no words came out.

His pace was brutal, not even letting you hold onto him. Your hands were left to grip the bedsheets again. You gripped them so tight that your knuckles turned white and you thought that they were going to pop.

Bucky continued to push, continued to shove his ejaculate deeper and deeper inside of you. A mixture of your slick and his ejaculate smeared all over your thighs and trickled down your legs, and you just didn't know what was happening. Your hindbrain was telling you that this was what was needed. That your designation wanted, nay, demanded this. After all the shit you had gone through, your Omega had found her Alpha and now, now she was determined to have a family. Have the pack she desperately desired.

"Mine."

A harsh thrust made you sob.

"You're mine now. I waited for you for so long. Wanted you for so long. You're mine now. Got my Mark. Got my clothes in your nest. Gonna give you my name. Gonna give you my pups. You're mine. All mine. Say you're mine. Say it!"

You came screaming. Your orgasm making you see white. Bucky continued slamming into you, the wet, squishing noises coming from your pussy becoming louder and louder the more he pushed in. Your teeth sank into his flesh shoulder, shattering and piercing the skin there. You tasted copper in your mouth.

Bucky came with a shout. He shoved you back completely, making you shriek. And then he was leaning in again, sinking his teeth into your gland. Making another deep mark. It made you fall limp into the bed as his knot swelled, locking the two of you in place.

He lifted his head.

Being inside you... knotted inside of you... it was bliss. It was just as good as cockwarming. His cock all nestled deep inside of you whenever you two would sneak off to sleep together.

"Bite me again. Give me your mark, Omega." he panted. Slowly, your head went up, you slowly sat up, before taking in a deep breath and sinking your teeth back into his gland.

Home.

You had brought Bucky home. He held you tight, whispering in your ear how much he loved you and how much of a good Omega you were.

"I love you Omega." His voice was rough.

Lifting your head from his gland. Blood still trickling down the corners of your mouth. You offered him a smile. A genuine one. One that made his stomach all fluttery.

"I love you too, Alpha."

[poursomesunaonme]

father gojo

a/n: brain is so on the decline with priest!gojo infection that i can barely function. absolutely crippling. also my first sacrilegious/hierophilic piece since yeeting catholicism so hooray exploring new places in writing😈 also fair warning it sounds fucking delusional butttt we’re just gonna ignore how that tone came so naturally to me

wc: 1.1k

cw: nsfw, minors dni, implied dubcon, religious manipulation, power dynamics, religion / catholicism / priests, sex toys (vibrator), implied oral (male receiving), semi-public sex, orgasm control/denial, creampie, kinda obsessive/possessive behavior, corruption kink, a literal god complex!gojo

father gojo is the most charismatic man of the diocese - so charming that you’d think he was jesus christ himself. and if priests are shepherds, then he has the biggest flock. people come from all over to join the church where he preaches. who could deny those blue eyes that saw into anyone’s soul? he even ropes you into returning to the church somehow, rescuing you from your previously sinful ways. you’re so thankful to have been saved by such a holy man.

but you poor sinner, you know you can’t deny it. father gojo’s been shaped by the lord himself. hell, he can even be an angel sent straight from the gates of heaven. you become so devout under his guidance, under his spiritual direction, that you attend daily mass, even start leading in church - reading, singing, and serving communion. you actually frequent confession once a week! father gojo’s amazed at your growth, as are you. you’ve never had a passion such as this before.

but what amazes him even more is your eagerness to serve the man who has dedicated so much to his parish. father gojo is known to comfort a widow on any given day, but his consolation for your troubles is a little different. so, out of all the people that adore him, you, his little saint, do the most.

he’s so tender, so mild, when interacting with you. he makes sure that you talk every day, that he sees you at least once a week outside of church activities, and you don’t hesitate to oblige. he’s so full of knowledge and wisdom and he loves to share it with you. you know that father gojo only wants the best for you.

which is why he fucks you in the sacristy before every mass, whether or not you’re serving for communion. and he doesn’t even care that the other ministers could walk in at any given moment. the lord will protect you, after all. he whispers the most unholy things in your ear while pounding his hips into yours without an ounce of clemency. it’s like he’s possessed by the devil himself. but father gojo assures you that everything is okay, that you’re alright, that the lord is thankful for your service. and you both finish in such an ecstasy that’s nothing short of divine. and of course, he’ll still need to finish his preparations, so he watches the skirt of your dress flutter down over your legs, covering up the cum that leaks down between your inner thighs.

he says that it’s doing a service to the lord, that you’re fulfilling your duty to comfort the afflicted. father gojo can be so tired sometimes from doing everything to serve the parish - he says it’s okay that you help him out a bit in your own special way. at first, you’re apprehensive, not sure if you’re actions are going against the lord’s teachings.

it seems eerily similar to a story in the bible, how a man and woman were tempted to sin and gave in. and they were cast out of paradise. you fashion yourself eve, not wanting to bring the adam father gojo is to sin. the serpent hisses in your ear every time you lay eyes on him. but father gojo assuages your doubts with kisses sweeter than milk and honey. and you fall - together.

no matter what service is going on, you’re always in the front row, gazing ever so devoutly at father gojo. always leaning forward more than the other church go-ers, in a modest dress that at least hits the middle of your calves. the closer you get to the pastor, the more you get confused. a lot of the time you don’t know who you’re praying to, the lord or the self-proclaimed god preaching about him on the altar. but it’s okay - it doesn’t matter because you’re a good person. you follow his commands.

and you relish in the special attention that father shows you. he’s always incredibly animated when giving homilies, gesturing his arms and directing his eye contact accordingly. but it’s your eyes he meets the most. and it’s not just at that point in the service.

it’s also when he invites the parishioners to kneel. which is what you’ll be doing when you go to the rectory after the service is finished. and you can’t help but entertain him in that regard, kneeling down to receive communion and holding eye contact with him with the most innocent of expressions but the most suggestive of glints in your eye.

weekly confession is just a dirty list of your own deeds that you pursue with your confessor. and they always lead to actions that beg a second visit. all the other parishioners are so confused that you always take so long in the booth even though you go to the sacrament every week. but you know that they shouldn’t judge you lest they be judged.

father gojo just loves to push you out of your comfort zone. that’s what faith is, isn’t it? you know you need to trust god, trust father gojo more. and you’ve grown to love cantoring in church, so this idea takes a lot of convincing on the trustworthy father’s part. but you obey his command with an eagerness to please him.

the pastor smirks at your voice that trembles with effort to keep composure while leading the congregation in song with a vibrator wreaking havoc in your cunt. he turns up the power with every verse just to hear the delightful sighs that pour from your mouth. not one person notices how he reaches into his chasuble to fiddle with the controls, not when they’re in awe of how moved by the spirit you are - or so they think. but who can tell the difference when your voice is so real and raw, so desperate and begging. it’s a true prayer.

and you know not to cum during mass. it’s not very becoming of a little saint like you. so after the first few sunday services, father gojo has you trained in the virtue of self control.

but you, his little saint, he’ll reward you with heaven after each mass. he thinks that one day, he’ll throw off the collar for you. but you both know that isn’t true. however, as you’re bent over his humble twin bed, bliss pouring over you moment by moment in the direct line of sight of the statues and holy icons that shake their heads at your vulgar deeds, you don’t care one bit.

father gojo will test you worse than the devil, but that doesn’t matter. you’ll follow him through hell and back.

gojo taglist: @the-princess-button @ob-levi-on @pink-apples001 @missyasma @leiriswhore

© all work belongs to poursomesunaonme. do not copy and repost.

[rwprincess]

Meeting/Dating Fred Benson would include…

Masterlist Word Count:  975

Synopsis: Shorter imagine for how you met and started dating Fred, as well as key points to your relationship 

CW: mention of underage drinking, light/mild description of making out, reference to dark thoughts (Vecna canonically targets him for a reason, but not detailed here).

A/N: This is my first attempt at a "would include" imagine and I wrote it and was too excited to post it, so it is unedited/un-beta'd 😅

Meeting Fred

-You initially met in math class when you were assigned to the same group.

-You bonded right away over your shared hatred for the subject, commiserating with negative comments about the work you had to do.  

-Soon, you realized you didn't just hate the same things, but had some common interests as well. While journalism and writing were his forte and you were into science, both had a common goal of inquiry. While the methods were different, you both were curious people searching for deeper meaning.

-After your assignment, you two continued to talk and Fred eventually asked you to write a guest feature in the school paper. You became an occasional contributor, publishing results on experiments or theorizing about certain sci-fi possibilities that were popular now, thanks to movies like Back to the Future.

-Fred secretly loves reading your work. He finally feels like he has someone who can keep up with him mentally, and the two of you are cut from the same cloth. This leads to more social visits than strictly-academic ones.

-Although you two study religiously together to try to decode that dreadful math.

How you got together

-Fred asked you to the school dance, to "scope it out and get the experience," 

-"Just as friends," he assured you so he wouldn't overstep any bounds.

-"But what if I want it to be more than that?"

-"Like an actual date? With me?!" He asked incredulously, but you just agreed and set up your first date-to-be, both blushing madly.

-Despite him looking terribly handsome in a suit with a sports coat and everything, the dance itself was kind of a bust. It wasn't really the place for either of you, so you left and walked to get some ice cream together instead.

-He notices you're cold and drapes the sports coat over your shoulders, as you walk side by side holding your cones.

-Eventually you notice him shiver though, because he has ZERO-percent body fat, so of course he'd be cold. (Frozen dairy probably doesn't help either.) So you eventually grab on to his arm and envelop it against your body.

-"What are you doing?"

-"I don't know. You looked cold. I could give you your jacket back…"

-"Don't be silly. Then you'd be cold."

-"Then I can give you your arm back," you start to loosen your grip.

-"Don't you dare," he jokes and instead threads his fingers with yours and keeps the two of you linked.

Dating

-Fred is stubborn and refuses to be a "typical" teenager. He sees his peers and cringes away from conforming to them and their ways.

-He isn't into giving/saying pet names. He mostly calls you by name or a shortened nickname. However, you occasionally draw a "love" out of him as a name. He's not-so-covertly a Dr. Who fan, so sneaking in a British pet name is acceptable. (Particularly if he's drunk. It doesn't happen often, but that's your best chance of hearing lots of love, darling, and pet, complete with an accent)

-He however accepts whatever you call him and notably melts any time you call him baby or sweetheart.

-Honestly, he'd do just about anything if you address him as such. Although, he'd pretty much do it anyway because he is eager to please you and keep you around.

-He's not into PDA in the overt sense. Or, as he puts it, "the disgusting primal display" your classmates put on in the hallways with their tongues down each others' throats.

-That being said, if you are in grabbing distance, he has to be touching you. Holding hands, arm around the shoulder or waist, hand in the back pocket, whatever is accessible so he can feel physically connected to you.

-He'd never admit it, but part of that compulsion is driven by jealousy. He wants everyone to know you're together without any doubts, that he belongs to you. It's the one silly teenage thing he really falls victim to.

-You try to reassure him that you only have eyes for him,  though.

-"You know that I am also a nerd and no one is looking to steal me away, right?"

-He doesn't believe you (the same way that Dustin believes that Suzie is Phoebe-Cates-hot. You are perfect in Fred's eyes).

-When you're alone though…Fred is not above being a hormonal teenage boy. He shows it and gives into it.

-Every touch feels like he needs it. It can be soft, tender, longing. Or it can be fervent, desperate, clinging.

-You find both modes incredibly hot, though, and aim to spend time alone often because of it.

-100% Nancy has caught you making out in the Weekly Streak office. Probably amongst the shelves, screeching about needing eye wash after seeing your leg hiked up over Fred's waist, his hands tangled up in your hair because the two of you can never truly be close enough and try to push that physical boundary as much as possible.

-Obviously, you'd both be embarrassed but not enough to, y'know, actually stop.

-Cuddly nap dates.  Again, you have to be physically intertwined.  Fred claims your chest or thighs are simply just the best pillows, but you have your suspicions about his reasoning and if there's any "ulterior motives." But they (usually) remain pretty chaste experiences.  You just like to hold each other and fall asleep from the comfort.

-Fred loves you and is probably the first to say it. You quell the dark places in his mind and make him feel seen, heard, and loved.

-Prior to meeting you, Fred pitied the people who got stuck in Hawkins. But now, he can see the appeal in the whole "marry your high school sweetheart and settle down with 2.5 kids" thing that previously baffled him. But really, anywhere is good as long as it's with you.