#my life will be complete and eternally at your mercy

[fangdokja]

i keep rereading your yan marine corps! x fem reader. what was reader's role that she had to follow the marine's... adventure?

"You’ll never escape me—not when I’m the only one keeping you alive."

��︎ Synopsis. In a world where death is mercy and survival means suffering, he claims you as his, promising protection through fear, control, and a twisted love that will leave you questioning if escape was ever truly possible.

♡ Book. A Heart Devoured (AHD) : A Dark Yandere Anthology

♡ Pairing. Yandere! Marine Corps x Fem. Reader

♡ Oneshot. #2 - The Devil Who Saved You

♡ Word Count. 3,153

♡ TW. dom + top + older yandere, non-con, possessiveness, psychological manipulation and conditioning, suggestive themes, fear play, emotional manipulation and abuse, psychological and emotional trauma, isolation, monitoring, lack of boundaries, non-con kissing and touching, forced relationship, BDSM, manipulation of circumstances, threats, descriptions of gore and human suffering, themes of violence and dystopia

♡ Note. Due to Tumblr content guidelines involving minors, some plot details of the original story were changed to fit the platform. If you want the true original story, please look at the author's official website or Ao3.

♡ A/N. I'm glad you enjoyed it :)). I'm surprised you're rereading it a bunch. But, I guess people do technically reread anyway. Sorry, slipped out of my mind. It just makes me happy seeing underrated works get credit, whether fandom or other stories I've written. So, thank you. Anyways. Technically, this was an ask. But it's a nice idea, and I've already had it in my drafts since before. I was just postponing lore dump with Yandere! Marine Corps, due to other works. Anyways. All I knew before, in all honesty, is that it's war time. But, time to pull out the fantasy skills and world build! Wooh! And to be honest, I'm hungry to write some gore crumbs like my familiar writing style, ahh. So, here, I present to you lore backstory (well technically part of the backstory). Hope you all enjoy it (also, sorry I talk a lot in notes).

♡ Music. Levee & Brick (Down to This) by Graffiti Ghosts

The world had fallen into an abyss so deep it seemed there was no end to its descent. The wars that came before—those waged for borders, ideologies, or resources—were merely preludes to this ultimate collapse. What erupted now was not war; it was annihilation. A calamity that turned cities into craters and humanity into prey. Every shred of civility burned away in the endless fires of desperation. The air was thick with the ash of the old world, a grim veil that painted the skies an eternal gray.

You had lived a different life once, one of relative normalcy in the dwindling days before the collapse. Back then, you had a future, a purpose, something as simple and human as hope. But that had been stripped away when the world’s powers unleashed devastation so complete it birthed horrors no living creature could comprehend. Technology had become a weapon of eradication, bioweapons and nanotech turning survivors into deformed creatures of flesh and steel, feral and mindless, hunting whatever moved. Rogue factions—remnants of militaries, mercenaries, and scavengers—rose like carrion birds, preying on the remnants of humanity.

In this hellscape, survival was no longer a matter of luck but of submission. Submission to those strong enough to carve their will into the earth and impose their dominion. He was one of those few. A towering force of unyielding violence, a soldier molded by decades of carnage, by a war that had reshaped him from a man into something closer to a machine of flesh and blood. The United Corps, once a venerated military institution, had fractured into splinter groups, each operating like a self-contained warlord’s regime. He was among their best—a leader, an executioner, a strategist, and now your captor.

You were assigned to him by pure chance—or perhaps cruel design. In this new order, value wasn’t measured by money or power but by the usefulness of flesh and mind. And you had been marked as useful. Perhaps it was your background—your knowledge, your resilience, or simply the misfortune of catching his attention when your convoy was intercepted by his unit. The corps didn’t merely take prisoners; they assessed, dissected, and consumed whatever remnants of humanity they deemed salvageable.

And he deemed you salvageable.

There were no illusions about the nature of his claim over you. It wasn’t love. It wasn’t mercy. It was obsession, possessive and cruel, born of a warped sense of necessity. “You belong to me now,” he had told you in that deep, unrelenting tone, the heat of his breath warming your face even as the chill of his words froze your soul. “Out there, they’ll rip you apart for the scraps on your bones. With me, you’ll live—if you behave.”

The battlefield was safer than the no-man’s land outside his dominion. That was the most damning truth. To run from him was to dive into a living nightmare where survival wasn’t a goal but a punishment. Outside his protection, death was not granted quickly.

You’d seen it. You’d heard the screams echoing through the wastelands, watched the crude factories churn with suffering. He’d forced you to look once, pressing your face against the window of a blood processing plant as tears streaked down your cheeks. “This is what’s waiting for you if you run,” he had whispered, his voice devoid of sympathy. “With me, you’re mine. Out there, you’re theirs. Decide.”

────────────

The smell hit you first. It wasn’t just the copper tang of blood; it was the rancid stench of rotting flesh mixed with chemicals—formaldehyde, acid, and something sour that clawed at the back of your throat. You gagged, instinctively raising a trembling hand to cover your nose, but he was quicker. His large, calloused fingers wrapped around your wrist, dragging your arm back down with enough force to make you whimper.

“Don’t look away,” he growled, his voice low and gravelly, vibrating like a distant explosion. “You need to see this.”

You didn’t want to see. You didn’t! But he held you there, his unyielding grip on your wrist a silent command. He stood just behind you, close enough that his breath fanned across the back of your neck, hot and suffocating.

The factory loomed before you like the mouth of some great beast, its jagged, rusted metal teeth glinting in the dim light of the sulfur-stained sky. The air outside had been foul, but inside, it was worse—a miasma of decay and despair.

The conveyor belts stretched endlessly, carrying bodies in various states of disassembly. Some were intact, their limbs hanging limply as they were dragged by crude metal hooks. Others were barely recognizable—mangled flesh and shattered bone mashed together in a grotesque parody of humanity. You tried to look away, to focus on the machinery, but even that was a nightmare of grinding gears slick with gore.

A loud, wet squelch drew your attention to a nearby station. A corpse—a woman, or at least what remained of her—was hoisted onto a steel slab. Her eyes were still open, glassy and staring, as if frozen in the moment of her death. A mechanical arm descended, its blade glinting dully under the flickering industrial lights. It carved into her chest with a precision that was almost surgical, splitting her ribcage open to reveal the organs beneath.

You felt bile rise in your throat as another arm extended, pincers gripping her heart. It yanked the organ free with a sickening suction sound, sending a spray of blood across the walls and floor. The heart was deposited into a waiting vat, where it joined dozens of others, floating in a viscous, murky liquid.

“They don’t waste anything,” he said, his tone devoid of emotion, as if he were explaining the workings of a simple machine. “Every part has a purpose. The skin for leather. The bones for tools. The organs for… whatever the hell they need them for.”

Your knees buckled, but he caught you, his arm snaking around your waist to keep you upright. “No,” he hissed, his breath hot and sharp against your ear. “You don’t get to faint. You’re going to watch. You’re going to understand.”

A scream tore through the air, high-pitched and raw, and you realized with horror that some of them weren’t dead. Your eyes darted to the source of the sound, landing on a man thrashing against his restraints as he was dragged toward another station. His legs were gone, severed at the thighs, and the stumps had been crudely cauterized to keep him alive.

“Please,” the man sobbed, his voice hoarse and desperate. “Please, just kill me. Just—”

The blade came down before he could finish, cleaving his remaining arm from his body. His scream turned guttural, the sound of a soul breaking, before it was cut off entirely by a needle plunging into his neck. The liquid injected was thick and black, spreading through his veins like oil. His body convulsed violently for a moment before going still.

You turned your head, choking on a sob, but he gripped your chin and forced you to face the scene again. His fingers dug into your skin, bruising and relentless.

“This is what happens without me,” he said, his voice a low snarl. “You think you can survive out there? Think you can make it without my protection? Look at them!” He shook you slightly, as if to drive the point home. “This is what you are without me—meat.”

Tears streamed down your face, hot and shameful, as you stared at the conveyor belts and the countless bodies reduced to parts. You couldn’t stop shaking, couldn’t stop the nausea that twisted your stomach into knots.

Another scream pierced the air, this one an elder's. Your head snapped toward the sound, and your heart plummeted. A thin figure, frail and sickly, was strapped to a table, his wide, terrified eyes fixed on the approaching machinery.

“No,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “No, no, no…”

The machine didn’t care. The blades descended, and you squeezed your eyes shut, the image burned into your mind even as you tried to block it out.

He didn’t let you escape even that. His hand tightened on your jaw, forcing your eyes open. “Don’t you dare look away,” he growled. “This is reality. This is what’s waiting for you if you run.”

You broke then, sobbing uncontrollably, your body wracked with shuddering breaths. He held you there, unyielding, until you were too weak to fight. Only then did he pull you close, his grip on you shifting from punishing to possessive.

“That’s right,” he murmured, his tone softening in a way that was somehow more terrifying. “You understand now, don’t you? You’re mine. And as long as you’re mine, this will never happen to you.”

His lips brushed against your temple, a mockery of comfort as he whispered, “But if you ever forget, I’ll bring you back here. And I’ll make you watch again.”

────────────

The battlefield stretched like a bleeding wound across the earth, jagged trenches carved into the mud and ash. The remnants of what had once been cities were nothing more than skeletal buildings clawing at the smog-choked sky. The air was thick with the acrid tang of burning fuel and the gut-wrenching stench of charred flesh. Bomb craters bubbled with viscous, oily water that gleamed under the pale, radioactive sun. It was a place where hope had been smothered, where humanity’s last breaths came in choking, gurgling gasps.

He stood before you, his shadow long and oppressive, a monolith of muscle and bloodied steel. His armor—if you could call the piecemeal, blood-streaked remains of his tactical gear armor—clung to him like a second skin, the fabric worn thin and blackened with soot. In his hand, a rifle dangled lazily, as though he didn’t need it. And he didn’t. He was a weapon unto himself, his body and mind honed by decades of violence, cruelty, and war.

“Do you remember this place?” His voice was a low rumble, scraping against your nerves like a blade dragged across bone. His eyes, sharp and unyielding, bore into you with a force that made your knees weak. “Where I found you?”

You nodded faintly, though you didn’t trust your voice enough to speak. Your silence wasn’t just fear—it was a learned response, a survival tactic you’d mastered in the years since he’d claimed you.

“Do you know what they were going to do to you?” He crouched, bringing his face level with yours. His presence was suffocating, his frame dwarfing your own. His voice dropped lower, almost tender, as though sharing a secret. “No, you don’t. You only saw what they let you see. Let me show you the rest.”

He yanked you forward, his grip on your wrist unyielding, and led you toward the edge of the battlefield. The ground squelched beneath your feet, a revolting mixture of mud, blood, and something viscous that you didn’t want to identify. In the distance, the ruins of an old hospital came into view. The building leaned at an unnatural angle, its walls crumbling but still intact enough to conceal the horrors within.

“You’ve seen death,” he said, his tone conversational, as though discussing the weather. “But you haven’t seen what people do when death isn’t enough. When they want to break you first.”

The interior of the hospital reeked of antiseptic and decay. The sterile smell of chemicals clashed with the unmistakable odor of rot. The walls were streaked with dark stains, their origins uncomfortably clear as you stepped over discarded limbs, the flesh marbled with gangrene and crude surgical scars.

In the first room, a soldier lay strapped to a gurney, his body contorted unnaturally. His chest had been split open, ribs wrenched apart like the wings of a grotesque bird. His heart was missing, the cavity where it had once beat filled with a tangled mess of wires and tubing. The machinery whirred softly, pumping fluids through his veins and forcing his lungs to expand and contract in shallow, mechanical breaths. His eyes were still open, rolling wildly in their sockets as they locked onto you.

“He’s alive,” the man behind you whispered, his voice a mix of mockery and menace. “Barely. They like to see how far they can push the human body before it gives out. Sometimes they even stitch people back together, just to see how much more they can take.”

You gagged, your stomach lurching violently, but he grabbed your chin, forcing you to face the horror. “Don’t look away,” he commanded, his tone sharp and unyielding. “You need to understand. This is what was waiting for you.”

He dragged you into another room, this one colder, darker. Rows of tanks filled the space, each containing a murky, greenish fluid that distorted the shapes inside. At first, you thought they were bodies, but as you moved closer, you realized they were something worse. Limbs were fused together in impossible configurations, heads sprouted from torsos without necks, and eyes blinked independently in faces twisted beyond recognition. The creatures floated listlessly, their expressions a grotesque mix of agony and confusion.

“Human experimentation,” he explained, almost lazily. “They weren’t trying to kill you. They were going to use you. Turn you into something like this. A weapon. Or worse—a resource.”

You stumbled backward, but he caught you, his arm curling around your waist with a possessive strength that left no room for escape. He pressed his lips to your ear, his voice a dark caress. “I killed them all for you. Do you see now why you belong to me? Why you owe me your life?”

He pushed you onward, through rooms filled with horrors you couldn’t have imagined in your darkest nightmares. A man impaled on a series of metal rods, his skin flayed back to expose muscle and bone, still breathing through a series of tubes jammed into his throat. A woman with her limbs replaced by crude prosthetics, her mouth sewn shut but her eyes screaming. People of all ages locked in cages, their bodies twisted and deformed, their cries muffled by gags soaked in blood.

“This is what humanity has become,” he said, his voice cold and detached. “This is what I saved you from. You were a prize to them. A rare find. They would’ve broken you in ways you can’t even imagine.”

You fell to your knees, the weight of it all crashing down on you. He crouched beside you, his bloodied hand gripping your chin and forcing you to look at him. His eyes, sharp and unyielding, were filled with something dark, something terrifyingly close to affection.

“Don’t forget this,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “Don’t ever forget who saved you. Who you belong to. Because without me…” His voice trailed off as he gestured toward the carnage around you. “This is all you’d ever know.”

You sobbed, the sound muffled against his chest as he pulled you into his arms. His embrace was as suffocating as it was unyielding, a cage that you could never escape. And yet, in that moment, you clung to him, because the alternative was too horrifying to bear.

────────────

So you stayed.

Not because you trusted him. Not because you wanted him. But because the alternative was infinitely worse. And yet, staying came with its own horrors, its own chains. His obsession didn’t shield you from his cruelty; it only redirected it. He was a man who didn’t just command obedience—he demanded submission. Every glance, every word, every trembling breath was a reminder of your place beneath him. When he touched you, it wasn’t with gentleness. His hands were calloused and bruising, gripping and claiming, leaving marks that would never fade.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he would say when your eyes filled with defiance or despair. “You’re still alive because I allow it.”

The world outside was dead, a barren wasteland of mutilation and starvation, yet with him, the torment was suffocatingly personal. He didn’t just want your compliance; he wanted your surrender. His words were a scalpel, cutting into your psyche with surgical precision. He would pull you close, his breath hot against your ear, his voice low and gravelly as he whispered promises of protection intertwined with threats so visceral they made your stomach churn.

“You’re mine,” he’d say, his hand resting possessively on your throat. “Every inch of you. Every thought. Every breath. Try to take that away from me, and I’ll show you what real pain feels like.”

There were moments when his control slipped, when the line between protector and predator blurred beyond recognition. He would keep you close, his body a cage of muscle and violence, his gaze piercing through your facade of composure. The way his hands roamed wasn’t tender—it was invasive, a reminder that he could take whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted, and there was nothing you could do to stop him.

And yet, you didn’t resist. Couldn’t. Resistance wasn’t a choice. Not here. Not with him.

The world outside was unlivable. The world with him was unbearable. Between the two, you chose to endure.

────────────

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General TAG LIST of “A Heart Devoured”: @definetlythinkimanalien , @floooring

[dearmyloveleys]

in this next wired autocomplete interview, we have with us, wei wuxian

[galactic-magick]

I Love You, I'm Sorry: Viktor x Reader

Based off of this reply on my last Viktor fic:

@lillycore : Duddee, imagine after the final scene between Viktor and Jayce they just disappear (I refuse to believe they both died, I’m just going believe, until it’s confirmed, that they simply teleported somewhere else), leaving reader alone without a chance to confront Viktor and believing they both died. So now, reader is left to pick up the pieces of her closest friend and love of her life gone, while believing Viktor no longer loves her (he does though, he was just a little confused with everything, but he still loves her)

Words: 1.2k

Author's Notes: Thank you all so much for the notes and kind words on my last Viktor fic, it truly means the world to me as a writer to see so many people touched by my writing. I hope you enjoy this equally devastating part 2.

They’re gone. They’re really gone.

No family, no friends, not a single loved one of yours survived this damn war. All this world has done is take, take, take.

You’re haunted by the last time you saw your beloved Viktor—completely unrecognizable. He had turned himself into a monster, disappearing with Jayce trying to save him. You didn’t even get to say goodbye, you didn’t even get to tell him you still love him.

Or ask if he still loved you.

You don’t know what would hurt less, believing he stopped loving you, or believing he did everything he did while loving you.

-

“Why can’t she hear me?” Viktor shouts into the void. He’s been calling your name for what feels like an eternity, his voice no longer carrying to your world.

Jayce puts a comforting hand on his shoulder, “You don’t have vessels to speak through anymore. She probably thinks we’re dead. Well, maybe we are…”

“No, no, this can’t be the end,” Viktor shakes his head vigorously. “I have to get back to her. She...she needs to know I love her. She needs to know I’m sorry.”

He falls to his knees amongst the stars, cursing himself for everything. How could he choose the hexcore over you? Why didn’t he seek you out when he survived the explosion? How did he let himself descend so far into madness that he forgot about your importance to him?

He’s now desperate for you to hear him, pleading the forces that bind his consciousness to this astral plane for another chance. He searches this dimension he’s come to know so well, looking for a loophole or tear in the fabric, but it’s no use. Everything has been closed—his supposed eternal consequence for his abuse of power.

Jayce saved him from himself, a feat he will forever be indebted to him for, but what is the point of redemption if he cannot live it out in his own flesh?

Would there have been a body left for him anyway? Would you still have loved him as the monstrosity he became?

Why must he still be cursed with the full vision of the universe? He sees you continue your life so clearly, but he can’t touch you, can’t speak to you. Your form shines the brightest light he’s ever seem in this dimension, an achievement that is not easily matched. He wonders if you can feel him reaching out to you, some sort of spiritual pull back to him. He will do anything to find a way to talk to you again.

-

You’ve been having dreams—dreams you can’t explain. Ever since Viktor’s disappearance, he’s tormented you day and night, constantly occupying your thoughts without mercy. You can hear his voice, but it sounds so far away you can never make out the words. You just wish it would all stop. You wish you could just erase him and all of the pain from your memory.

Sometimes you still feel a presence, the feeling you used to feel when he was in the same vicinity with you, admiring you from across a room. It’s a familiar warmth that used to wash you with peace, whereas now it makes your heart ache. You suppose it’s a normal symptom of grief, subconsciously denying that he’s really gone.

You start to go through his things he left at your house, beginning with his various textbooks and notebooks he would bring over for studying. Seeing his scribbles and handwriting again brings tears to your eyes, a single drop falling onto the paper as you read.

You blink a few times, seeing a couple of letters on the page start to glow. You must be seeing things, hallucinating from sleep deprivation. You close the journal and open it again, but the glowing letters are still there.

You grab a separate piece of paper and write down each glowing letter, finding fifteen total.

“I - L-O-V-E - Y-O-U - I-M - S-O-R-R-Y”

This isn’t happening. It can’t be.

-

“It’s working! She got my message!” Viktor exclaims.

“How...how are you doing that?” Jayce asks.

“Tiny rips in space—not big enough for either of us to escape through—but certainly big enough to briefly touch that reality,” Viktor pauses, still waiting for a response from you, but it doesn’t come.

-

You close the journal and sob, praying for an end to this misery. Your mind is playing tricks on you, deceiving you to a level you never thought possible. Must you be haunted by this forever? Must you endure the aftermath of this trauma?

You open it once again, the letters still glowing, but they start to fade right in front of your eyes. A new set of letters begin to glow, so you write those down as well.

“I-T-S - M-E - D-A-R-L-I-N-G”

And then another set of letters.

“P-L-E-A-S-E - T-A-L-K - T-O - M-E”

Maybe you’re not imagining.

You’ve heard of magicians who can converse with the dead, and the possibility of other dimensional planes and universes. Viktor himself had some theories about it, although he never pursued proving them. Could it really be possible that your beloved was speaking to you?

“Viktor?” you say out loud. “Are you...are you alive?”

“I - D-O-N-T - K-N-O-W”

The pencil drops from your hand again as your head falls to the table. His consciousness is somehow alive, clearly, but there’s no way he can explain to you where he is and how to get him out one letter at a time. You’re nowhere near his level of intellect—even if he explained how to rescue him like you’re five years old—you fear you still would mess something up.

“Viktor...I can’t do this. You can’t do this to me,” you sigh, daring to look at the words again. “You abandoned me, and now my life is a living hell because of the destruction you helped cause. I want nothing to do with your war and stupid glorious evolution. So if you’re not here to take me away from this life, please go away.”

The same original words start glowing again, brighter each time they sequence:

I love you, I’m sorry.

I love you, I’m sorry.

I love you, I’m sorry.

“Love doesn’t do what you did. Love doesn’t abandon its humanity for power.”

Please forgive me.

“I do forgive you for everything, Viktor. That’s exactly why I need to forget about you, because I will never stop loving you and hurting for it if I don’t.”

With blurry eyes, you close the journal and throw it into the fireplace, regretting it almost immediately. You grab a stick and pull it out, your tears falling onto the soot-stained cover.

“Please, just...find a way back to me.”

I will.

[theabysss]

Plush toy

pairing: sagau!Zhongli x Reader

summary: Zhongli performs his evening prayer, goes to bed and suddenly finds himself in your plush toy.

warnings: yandere, possessive & obsessive thoughts, religious + cult themes.

word count: 1.1k

note: Okay, I give up, I just can't stop writing at night. My body and inspiration are in cahoots to keep me from writing during the day. I ordered acrylic stands with Zhongli and Dottore, it remains to wait for them to arrive. Life is not so bad (looks askance at the last exam, it would be better without you)

Zhongli kneels and clasps his hands in prayer, as he has done so many times before. He was in his apartment on the harbor in a room dedicated to you, with a statue of you that he personally sculpted with his geo powers. Once at a time, he tried to capture your image in stone, and he considered this his attempt the most successful of all, even if it did not fully convey all your grace, mercy, power, beauty. But this is all he could be content with until the moment you go down to Teyvat physically.

On especially bad days, when his longing for you became especially strong, when he could no longer pretend that a life spent not in your radiance was meaningless, Zhongli stood in front of your statue for days, desperately praying. Praying for your return, not allowing himself to be interrupted for a second, whispering through cracked lips, when every word was a blade passing through a parched throat, he wanted to feel all your splendor, and not the pitiful crumbs that he felt next to the traveler.

His soul still found solace when you were around, even if your presence was ephemeral, but deep in his heart, Zhongli wanted to see your physical form. To be able to hear your voice, to see how emotions change on your face, to finally give all the gifts accumulated over the millennia. To dress you up in Liyue's best outfits made from the most expensive silk, feed you the most delicious meals, and be able to directly enjoy your divine presence, which always filled his heart with warmth. He desperately wanted it all, with all his draconic greed.

Zhongli finishes his daily evening prayer and, before leaving the room, takes one last look at your statue, full of longing and reverence. He performs evening routines, go to bed and slowly falls asleep, his last thought is about you. If he had a chance to see you even for a second, there's nothing he wouldn't do.

When Zhongli opens his eyes, his vision is very hazy and blurry, the body seems somehow cottony, completely motionless and small. He tries to blink and move, but he can't. When the vision finally becomes clear again, Zhongli's heart skips a beat and then begins to beat furiously. He sees you sitting at the table behind some strange luminous rectangle on which pictures move. Zhongli desperately tries to call you, but no sound escapes his lips. He couldn't move, couldn't speak. How could this happen? He just fell asleep, and now he was here next to you, though in some very strange state.

Everything becomes completely unimportant when Zhongli hears your laughter and notices your smile. You were beautiful, perfect, his wish came true, he was so close to you, directly watching you. For about fifteen more minutes, which seemed to him the most wonderful eternity in the world, Zhongli simply absorbed your emotions, your appearance, he was unable to get enough of you. You were his oasis in the middle of the desert to which he walked for five thousand years.

When the rectangle in front of you goes out, you get up from your seat and leave the room. He glares at you longingly, but now at least Zhongli has the opportunity to analyze the situation in which he finds himself. He collects his thoughts and tries to sort out his sensation and what he sees. A minute later, Zhongli comes to the conclusion that he was in a plush toy, out of the corner of his eye he can see others nearby. Well, it was strange, but he wasn't going to complain, rather, on the contrary, he was infinitely grateful for the opportunity to be near you, even so. It's true that you didn't seem to know about his presence, Zhongli wouldn't want to invade your life without permission, but it doesn't seem like he had a choice, he couldn't even close his eyes.

For the next half hour he hears a noise water and assumes that you are taking a bath. Zhongli can't help but look at the interior of your room, the colors in which it is decorated, the arrangement of furniture, trying to memorize as much as possible so that he can then reproduce the furnishings in Liyue later. All to increase the chances that you will like the place he created and want to stay.

Zhongli notices several photos, they show you with some people, joyful and smiling. Who were they? Other followers who have been given the great honor of being pictured with you in the same image? Or is it someone more important to you? The reason why you still have not descended to Teyvat fully, Zhongli feels jealousy and anger in his heart for those who dared to take your attention. But all negative thoughts fly out of his head when you return back to the room. You are wearing only a bathrobe and Zhongli definitely swallowed dryly if he could, your skin looks so soft, steamed, tender, the way it glistens in the lamplight, it makes the butterflies in his stomach flutter. It seems to him that he is not worthy to see this picture, the beautiful work of art that you are now.

When you approach and take him in your arms, Zhongli feels a moment of panic. Did you know he was here? How could he justify himself? But you just take him and go to bed. When you turn off the light and lie down next to him, he holds his breath. You cover yourself with a blanket and pull the toy that he was now towards you and Zhongli's mind thrashes about. It was all so much like a dream, a wonderful false dream, too beautiful to be true. Before you fall asleep, you kiss him briefly and he melts like a mist flower corolla on a hot day. Zhongli hears how your breathing becomes calmer and more measured and just enjoys this sound, gradually he is lulled, although he is desperately trying not to fall asleep so as not to miss a moment with you, but he does not succeed.

Zhongli wakes up from the sun's rays hitting his face, and as soon as memories reach him, he immediately jumps up on the bed, staring into the void in prostration. Did he dream everything? But you were so alive, so real in his memories. The whole next day, Zhongli is extremely confused and Hu Tao sends him home early, and he doesn't even try to dissuade her. You completely occupy all his thoughts, and in his heart the hope burns that this was something more than a dream. And when he goes to bed after the evening prayer, Zhongli longs to see you again. Just one more time.

Dragons were known for their greed, so he would never get enough. Always one more time and never the last. After all, the more he had, the more he wanted.

Reblogs, comments, are always greatly appreciated! ヽ(o^ ^o)ﾉ

[bitter-me]

My first time requesting but I need a part 2 of Kilmer where aventurine adopts the reader (somehow) or gets the reader away from that awful man 🤕 angst with comfort and a bit of fluff in the end if its possible, Thank you!! :) (P.S. I love your works!!)

Shama

Aventurine | Child M. Reader (Platonic)

Part One | Part Two (You're here)

----------

"It's an all-or-nothing surrender!"

----------

No matter how many days, weeks, months have passed. The sight of that serial number on the neck of a young child has sear itself into Aventurine's mind. Images of his own past flashes before his eyes. Those times, those things he went through.. the thought of someone else going through the same thing at such a young age. Sends a chill down his spine.

Every time he ever met the man for business, his gaze would linger on the child much longer than the man he was having business with. That blank expression, those expensive and luxurious clothing on him. Like a little trophy. Just for show. A way for his caretaker--no.. owner to say "Hey! Look at this shiny new toy I got! Isn't he pretty?" Put in a glass box, a collection, a doll being stored on a shelf.

Every time he has to meet up with the man, Aventurine makes sure that he brings gifts. He doesn't mind buying gifts for clients. It's nothing really. Anything to make [Name]'s life more bearable... but his main concern, his main target is the trophy, the doll, the child, [Name]. And evert time he gave [Name] a gift, it's always met by complete silence and subtle glances directed to his owner. As if asking permission to take it.

"See this? This is a limited type of confectionery that everyone in the galaxy simply adores. There are only sixteen slices sold every day. Here, why don't you have a taste?" Aventurine says, his hand gestures towards a plate of slice cake. A very popular, very delicious dessert. One that he hopes the child would take it. [Name] glances over to his master, as if he's silently asking if he could, which earned him a firm nod. "Go ahead, it's rude to not accept gifts."

After contemplating over it, [Name] took a seat next to Aventurine, his hand reaching out towards the dessert plate, with his other hand the child use the utensil to eat his dessert. It was simply divine. It's no wonder this cake is a favorite of the people in the galaxy. [Name] had never tried anything this wonderful before.

The subtle light in the child's dull eyes make Aventurine smile widens.

Anything to make [Name]'s life more bearable.

----------

But even so, these gifts could only do so much.. he needs a plan. A permanent one. But it seems... he doesn't need to think of that anymore...

The "lifeless doll" had taken care of it.

Aventurine merely stare with widen eyes as the boy stood there in front of all of them with handcuffs on his wrist, the usually clean and tidy suit he wore is now messy with wrinkles and splashes of fresh blood, his neat hair now in shambles as he look at them through his hair strands with dull eyes.

As if what he had done didn't face him one bit.

It was a banquet, a normal banquet, nothing special, another day, another business. The waiters and waitresses handing drinks and foods to every patron. A normal business event.

And yet..

It had end in a massacre.

The trial went on and on. the trial took way too long for comfort, for every evidence and every alibi... the child is proven innocent. It took what felt like an eternity to finally gathered enough proof for him to be proven guilty. And yet..

The IPC showed him mercy. Finding it to be such a shame to lose such an asset. The length this boy went through, not breaking character as he slowly make his plan come into fruition.

This "lifeless doll" isn't as lifeless as he make himself to be.

For someone as young as him.. to be able to make elaborate plans and following it through till the end.. and creating evidence and alibies to prove himself innocent, whether if it's fabricated or not...

He's a mastermind.

And the IPC can't simply let such a valuable asset to simply.. cease to exist.

.

.

.

At a vacant room, [Name] sat on the edge of the bed looking blankly at the wall in front of him, his gaze sometimes shifted between the wall and his still blood stained hands, along with the handcuffs on his wrists. The sight of it could make anyone feel uneasy and squeamish. But to him.. it brought a sense of satisfaction as a ghost of a smile made it's way onto his face. For his plan had come to fruition.

Giving him a sense of comfort he never thought he could ever feel.

But that smile soon disappears once he heard the sound of someone entering the room, a man that he's well familiar with. There's no mistaken those eyes. He then approached [Name] before kneeling down in front of him.

"The IPC has pardon your crimes, but of course that still didn't erase the fact you had slaughtered a whole banquet of people... I'm afraid you have to work hard in order to clear your name.."

A soft and warm smile adorn on his expression as he stretch out a hand towards the younger. "In the meantime, you'll be under my care.."

"...Malachite."

[plaguedwithlove]

What Lies In The Water

Yandere! Water deity x fem!reader

Warnings: third person point of view, self-sacrifice, non-con, willing reader(but not really), doing it on land

-------------------------------------

The girl sheds herself of her garbs, the wind sends her slight chills down her spine yet she dips her foot in the water soon as she is bare, for the deity that curses these waters has no patience

Looking behind her one last time at her village, she lets out a small goodbye and walks slowly into the jaws of the angered spirit, an act of self sacrifice

Going deeper into the pond, her (h/c) hair flowing behind her like a veil, awaiting her fate

Then she feels it, the water current surrounds her like greedy hands, the currents course around her breasts, her thighs, areas that were most sensitive to the touch

The water slowly forms into hands, large and rough. Touching her as if examining her, sensual yet possessive. Her breath hitches when she feels what was akin to lips trail up from her back to her neck

"Mmm, what a fine compromise here, I am pleased with this gift from your people."

The girl keeps her head low, not bearing to look at the eyes she will see for the rest of her life, to the being that now possessed her body and her soul

"Let me look at you, sweeting." He whispers in her whisper as she gently grabs her chin to look at him

The gloomy grey eyes was the first thing she saw, she gasps and becomes overwhelmed at how beautiful he was

Such long platinum blonde wavy hair he had, and a regal nose to emphasize how elegant his face was. A gentle face for a cruel soul

"By the heavens above, such a pretty little thing you are. I am surprised your village let such a beautiful flower get plucked." The way his hands explore the girl's body was in contrast to how he looked at her, almost like a lover would

He did love her though

Love her like a nobleman loves his most prized possessions

Love her like a princess loves her jewelry

Love her like a King loves his power

"Tell me your name, o beloved."

She had willingly gave away her body to this deity, she was hesitant to give away her final keeping, her name. What more could he take from her before she is left with nothing? She'd rather him to call her a nickname for the rest of time if it meant he'll never know her true name

"Come now, we have all night but I truly wish do not desire to prolong our process of union."

Despite, how vague he was, she completely understood what would happen tonight, he was a man still after all. He would take her purity and ravish her until she is no more

Her name escapes her lips with a slight choke, she had nothing to lose anymore

The deity smiles fondly, content with her submission

"(Name), consort to Glyndwr for all of eternity."

Then, he leads her near the shore to her surprise, she had expected him to sink her down in the deep with him

Once reaching where the water meets the dry land, Glyndwr gently pushes her on the ground

"Relish in our consummation as this will be the last time you will ever be on land, my water lily."

Her eyes widen in horror and dread, though she still lies down, completely at the mercy of her now husband, the hellstorm of emotions happening inside her in stark difference to her compliance

She remains down where the water still touches her, yet not enough to where she would be engulfed

Glyndwr's body was in full view, pale and large. Not much muscles, yet a strong physique, he gets on his knees wrapping her legs around his waist, his cock ready to penetrate her. He caresses her thighs before reaching her plump ass. Squeezing gently at the cheek

"May the skies witness the ceremony of our love."

His hips lean back before slowly pushing forward inside her, he sighs in pleasure, she cries in pain

Once fully inside her, he lets out a groan biting at his bottom lips to prevent himself from screaming from the overblowing ecstasy

His bride beneath him shakes in discomfort, eyes becoming shiny from the tears

'It will all become bliss in no time, patience."

His hips move back and forth in a steady pace, the rhythm of his body causes the water around them to splash and ripple disorderly

If the sound of their skin crashing wasn't enough proof to her ears of forced sex, then the pain in her abdomen would be

Promised pleasure never came, only anguish and silent moans of hurting

What only came was the seed of Glyndwr coursing inside her body

"That should take, but it doesn't matter if it does not now, for we shall continue this in the depths of our home."

Picking up his motionless bride, Glyndwr sets her in his arms, slowly walking into the abyss, never again would she see the sun shine

[hana-no-seiiki]

ARDENT EXALTATION, ETERNAL DAMNATION

⟣┄─ ˑ 𝐈. ✧ yandere worshipper! x secret god! reader (ft. yan! god oc)

inspired by my bootiful @sagesskies n baldur’s gate shar/shadowheart

synopsis: if there was one main rule under your creed, it was for your name and titles thereof to never be spoken. but for this worshipper, it’s all that leaves his lips.

tw/cw: yandere & religious themes. yun sadist hours writing. reader calls oc their child but it’s not incest yall ples. character deaths.

TO WORSHIP YOU WAS THE GREATEST HONOR ONE COULD RECEIVE. An honor never to be shared nor declared. Selfishness and secrecy were the traits you valued in your followers. You simply felt that flaunting your presence to be superfluous, if not arrogant — thoughtless. A flaw you often saw in other gods that you wished not to have in yourself.

But of course, you were not perfect. No matter how much you may wished to be, even gods had their failures and oversights.

Once such oversight was Ynaël. The Prodigy, Priest of the Night, and your favorite.

He was immaculate. A perfect example of what it meant to worship you. He dedicated his voice, body, and soul only to you. No one knew his name but yourself. No one else knew he even existed. Those that did were sundered from existence, or lived in the afterlife.

You had only the highest of expectations for your child. He had an outstanding beginning. Unprecedented in your long, well hidden line of followers. You called for his name often. Assisted him in the ways you could as a deity in his adventures. Even allowing him to lay with you underneath the stars as mortals and your more carnal siblings did with their creations.

But as mortal beings and gods alike were, when faced with such high praise, it was inevitable for hubris to fester and slowly creep up on him.

He overstepped.

Sharing his devout adoration to his companions. Showering you with praise as he fought. Spreading your transcendent name throughout the very soil he stepped upon, and the crevices of bodies he’d desecrate.

What more was that he was proud of his accomplishments. You deserved to be known. To be remembered and immortalized. To share the spotlight your fellow celestial beings had. Was it not only right that you praise him even more?

But then, he could feel your presence slowly dimming in its luminance.

You never had a temple built to your name, so he could only ponder at night when everyone else had gone off to sleep or have fun underneath the sheets to wonder why you’ve seemingly left him. Was he too harsh? You were known for valuing mercy and forgiveness, the ability to show compassion even to the most tainted beings. Besides, you would never just leave him behind.

Frustrated with your lack of response to his calls, he sets upon a goal to build you a place for worship. One that was overdue in its establishment, in his opinion.

It took many, many agonizing years without a single word from you, but it was finally complete.

He takes a moment to gaze at the statue of your magnificent form he place behind the altar, soon to be covered with sacrifices and blessings. Anything you’d ask for, just as long as you bless him once more with yourself.

But instead, he is greeted by another presence.

A presence very similar to yours. Yet much, much more powerful.

Their voice almost tore Ynaël’s ears wide open in its magnitude.

“You killed them, you — a worthless scum of a mortal.”

Killed whom? Throughout his years working on your temple he had taken no life. He wanted everything to be completed as soon as possible. He had no time for any sorts of conquests.

“Meet your maker.”

©️ hana.no.seiiki - yun | 2024

— to be continued

[christopher-bangnaldoskzz]

Pairing: Han Jisung x Reader 

Genre: Dark Fantasy x Enemies to lovers 

Word count: 4.5k

Warnings: This story is about to get real dark so if you don't like that shit stay clear. 

Summary: Inspired by the amazing Fourth wing novel's, take a deep dive into my fucked up brain. 

Her whole life, all Y/N wanted was to use her powers to heal those who had been broken. However, she didn't expect her life to be completely turned on its head the moment Han Jisung walked into that hall. He forever changed the way she viewed the world, altering her life in ways she could never have imagined.

Welcome to oddinary!

Your heart pounds in your chest as you wade through the thick, heavy mud, each step a battle against the sticky earth that clings to your legs. Panic grips you as you desperately try to reach him, your voice breaking the stillness of the air as you cry out in despair, "Nooooo!" The sound echoes around you, mingling with the noise of your frantic breathing—the harsh rasp of air filling your lungs as you push onward.

The weight of the mud slows your progress, each movement requiring more effort and determination. Sweat beads on your brow, mixing with the muck that splatters your clothes. Still, you refuse to give up. Your thoughts narrow, laser-focused on the body ahead, a silhouette just out of reach. The world around you blurs and fades, becoming an indistinct backdrop to your singular goal. Every ounce of your being drives you forward, fuelled by a desperate hope to reach him before it’s too late.

“Please.” Your throat tightens painfully as you kneel in desperation, raising your voice to the heavens in a heartfelt plea for mercy. With every fiber of your being, you urge the higher powers to intervene, to grant him the strength he so desperately needs to hold on for just a little longer, to fight through the overwhelming darkness that surrounds him every second.

He lays there choking on what looks like his own blood, fuck he’s bleeding internally, you think, making the final steps towards him. “Ji, I need you—please, he’s dying!” Panic laces your voice as you turn to see him standing there, his brow furrowed with urgency. You catch a glimpse of the bender looming behind you, a menacing figure shrouded in shadows. Without hesitation, he raises his hands, summoning two ice daggers that glint ominously in the dim light. With a swift, precise motion, he launches them towards the bender, their sharp edges slicing through the air as you feel the weight of desperation pressing down on you.

With a gentle tone that conveys both comfort and reassurance, he softly says, "It's okay." Kneeling on the damp earth, he carefully strips clean water from the muddy area. After filling his cupped hands, he hovers them over the wound, taking a moment to assess the injury before beginning the cleansing process.

With deliberate care, he starts to flush out any debris or dirt that may have settled into the wound, making sure to rinse it thoroughly. He watches closely for any signs of pain, doing his best to be mindful and minimise any further discomfort as he gently cleans the area. The cool water flows softly, washing away the remnants of the muddy surroundings, while his touch remains steady and reassuring throughout the process.

As the grim realization dawned upon you, the words "I can't heal him" reverberated in your mind like a haunting refrain. Each syllable felt like a heavy stone dropping into a still pond, sending ripples of anxiety throughout your being. An overwhelming tide of panic began to swell within you, threatening to drown out all rational thought.

Every second that ticked by felt like an eternity, amplifying the weight of the situation pressing down on your chest.

You could feel despair seeping into the very core of your being, a dark shadow that loomed larger as you desperately searched for a glimmer of hope. No matter how hard you tried to muster the strength to do something—anything—the stark reality remained: you were powerless to alter the tragic outcome. The anguish of knowing it was beyond your control threatened to engulf you completely, leaving you gasping for breath amid the crushing tide of sorrow.

“You can… just give me -“ 

………..

*1 year earlier *

“Y/L/N.” The sharp, authoritative call of your last name reverberates through the lecture hall, cutting through the low murmur of voices and rustling papers. You instinctively lift your head, your heart quickening as you lock eyes with your professor. Their intense gaze pierces the crowd, focused solely on you, leaving no room for distraction. The weight of their attention makes your palms slightly clammy, and you feel a rush of both apprehension and curiosity about what comes next. The moment feels suspended in time as you try to gauge their expression.

You pause for a moment, the weight of uncertainty hanging in the air as you gather your thoughts. With a hesitant breath, you finally say the words, "Right, sorry." The sound of your voice is tinged with apprehension, and you can feel a knot of unease forming in the pit of your stomach, twisting tighter with each passing second. As you glance at the group of second-year students, an unfamiliar wave of nervousness washes over you, making your palms slightly sweaty. You wonder if they will even welcome your presence. The chatter around you feels overwhelming, and you can feel your heart racing as you consider your next move, torn between the desire to connect and the fear of being overlooked.

As you walk over to the group, the whispers of students surround you. Passing by a group of second-year boys, one of them suddenly calls out with an exaggerated mock-seriousness, "We don't bite!" His words hang in the air for a moment, and then he adds with a cheeky grin, "MUCH!" This playful jab sends the entire group into fits of laughter, their gleeful voices echoing around the hall.

You are practically shoved in-front of the group as the professor moves you along “Chan, Minho and Changbin… we will not be having this discussion again, just because you have served you first year here does not mean you will live to see your second through…do I make myself clear” he says just low enough so only myself and the boys could hear.

Chan nervously gulps and apologizes, "I'm sorry, sir. I understand my mistake and I assure you it won't happen again."

The professor smiled and said, "Good to hear that. I believe you have a lot of talents, and it would be a shame if they went to waste." He paused for a moment, looking into the eyes of the student to convey his point, then turned on his heel to continue the task at hand, resuming the calling of names from the list with a practiced ease.

You stood there and watched as one by one the first years are being split up into the groups The air was thick with nervous energy, and you could see the mix of excitement and anxiety on everyone's faces.

Amidst the chatter, you heard Changbin let out an exasperated groan beside you. “Good, I hope we don’t get the element bender,” he muttered, his expression a mix of frustration and resignation. You could only imagine the eye roll accompanying his words as he glanced over at you, before turning his attention back to the stage where names were being announced.

As you waited, your mind raced with thoughts of what it would mean to have someone powerful like the element bender in your group. Would you be able to keep up? Would they be friendly or standoffish? And as the minutes passed, you felt the tension in the room rise, each name called out making the stakes feel higher. You looked on, hoping the next name wouldn't be his, but knowing that fate always had a way of surprising you.

As the professor surveyed the vibrant sea of students milling about in the busy atrium, his gaze landed on a young man with tousled brown hair, slightly disheveled from the morning rush. "Han," he called out, his voice cutting through the hum of chatter. The boy hesitated for a moment before making his way through the throng, weaving past clusters of students engaged in animated conversations until he finally reached the professor's side.

With a subtle nod towards our group, the professor gestured confidently, saying, "You will be joining section 3 over there," Pointing right in your direction.

From the back of the group, Changbin let out an exasperated groan, his frustration palpable in the way he crossed his arms tightly over his chest. "Oh, come on, sir," he complained, his tone a mix of disbelief and impatience, echoing the sentiment shared by many around him.

A look of deep frustration is etched on his features as he levels a piercing glare at Changbin, his voice sharp and laced with barely contained anger. "I've heard quite enough out of you, Mr. Seo," he snaps, every word dripping with resentment, as if he has reached his breaking point.

Changbin, undeterred, mumbles something under his breath, his eyes darting away. Meanwhile, a first-year student hesitantly approaches our group, retrieving his belongings with trembling hands and laying them down just in front of you.

“Y/n,” you call out gently, leaning in to engage him.

“What!” he whispers, his voice loud enough to draw attention yet filled with surprise.

With a sweet smile that contrasts the tension in the air, you introduce yourself, “Hi, my name is y/n.”

“Jisung,” he replies curtly, his expression stone-faced and devoid of warmth.

As you retreat to your place in line, a soft murmur escapes your lips: “Trying to be nice, but whatever.” The weight of the moment lingers heavily in the air, wrapping around you like a thick fog.

Chan leaned closer, his voice low and urgent, “If I were you, I’d steer clear of him. Element benders like to stir up trouble.” His eyes narrowed, conveying an unspoken warning.

“MR. BANG... if you or your... entourage so much as make another peep... I will have the entire third section excised. Do I make myself clear?” Chan’s arms flexed at his sides, tension rippling through his body, as he stood firm and unwavering.

“Sorry, sir... I’ll... it won't happen again,” he replied, the fight draining from him as his rigid posture finally eased. You notice the first years filing through, and the third years begin to move over to their assigned sections, a mix of excitement and anticipation in the air.

“My name is San, and I’ll be your section leader,” he announced confidently, gesturing with a welcoming smile. “This is Jamie; she will be your team leader. If you encounter any issues, we’ll be just down the hall.” San’s gaze swept across the group, making eye contact with nearly everyone, his demeanour both reassuring and commanding.

“Alright, listen up, everyone,” Jamie calls firmly, her voice cutting through the chatter of the first years like a knife. She turns on her heel, her long hair cascading behind her as she begins to stride confidently down the hall. “If you would kindly follow me, I’ll get you sorted into your bedrooms.”

“That’s your cue, little one,” Chan says playfully, giving you a gentle nudge from behind as he pushes you out of the throng of students. You glance back at him, ready to snarl, but instead you find him grinning and giving you a thumbs up, his smile annoyingly cheerful.

“What a jerk,” you mutter under your breath, grinding your teeth in irritation as you reluctantly follow Jamie. She leads you into the vast expanse of the first-year quadrants, her authoritative presence commanding attention as she calls out names and assigns students to their respective bedrooms.

“Y/n y/l/n,” she announces, and you step forward, feeling a mix of anticipation and anxiety.

“Jackson’s little sister, right?” Jamie beams at you as recognition dawns on her. You nod slightly, dragging your heavy bag along the polished wooden floor. Jackson, your older brother, had graduated at the top of his class the previous year, celebrated for his exceptional skills as a syphon.

“Cute,” she remarks, her smile warm as she gestures for you to keep moving. As she continues to navigate the massive crowd of first years, her enthusiasm is contagious, drawing you into the excitement of what lies ahead.

“Han Jisung,” she blurts out suddenly as he strides toward the door, his bag slung casually over one shoulder. The name hangs in the air, thick with unspoken tension.

You can’t help but smile at him, your spirits lifting as Jamie walks away, leaving you alone with the new neighbour. “Looks like we’re neighbours now,” you say, emphasizing the word ‘neighbours’ with a playful grin, hoping to coax a reaction from him. But instead of engaging, he merely glances back at you, a flicker of surprise in his eyes before he turns away and shuts his room door with a soft thud.

“Dick number two… okay,” you mutter under your breath, rolling your eyes dramatically at his closed door. The moment feels a little ridiculous, but you can't shake off the intention to break through his stoic demeanour.

With a huff of annoyance, you close your own door behind you, the click echoing in the quiet hallway. You take a moment to collect yourself before beginning to slowly unpack your bag. Each item you pull out—a few clothes, a couple of books, and your favourite Pen—feels like a small step towards claiming this space as your own. Yet, the encounter with Han still lingers in your mind, a mix of curiosity and determination pushing you to try again.

…….

“Yo …..y/l/n” you turn to look at the table where majority of your group is sitting. Well basically everyone but Han jisung.

“Hi!” you reply, your smile warm and inviting as you spot Minho shifting in his seat to make room for you. He gestures towards the empty spot next to him, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Your brother was our leader last year,” Changbin chimes in, his mouth half-full of food, crumbs scattering as he grins at you. “He was absolutely amazing!”

“Definitely one of the best,” Chan adds enthusiastically, leaning forward with a look of admiration. The way he speaks conveys not just respect but genuine pride in your brother's leadership. You can’t help but feel a swell of warmth at their commendation, knowing your brother made a lasting impression.

“Super dreamy,” a girl you’ve never really noticed before suddenly exclaims, her eyes glazed over as if caught in a daydream. Just as quickly, she shakes herself back to reality, a faint blush creeping onto her cheeks.

“Sure, whatever you say…” Chan replies, an eyebrow raised skeptically. He shifts in his seat, sliding as far away from her as he can manage without causing a scene, as if her words were contagious.

“Anyway… he told us to keep an eye on you, so that’s exactly what we’re going to do,” he says, trying to maintain a friendly grin. But the look on your face, filled with irritation and annoyance, reveals just how his words are landing. You feel an overwhelming frustration bubbling up inside you, ready to burst.

“I don’t need you to look after me… I’m an adult!” you snap back at him, your voice sharp and filled with defiance. As the anger flares, your eyes begin to glow a fiery golden hue, a tell-tale sign of your rising emotions.

“Careful now…..” but you are fighting the urge to use your powers to brake his arm.

“Ouch okay….i get it i won’t protect you” he says lowering his voice.

“I didn’t know healers could cause damage like that” chan leans across the table. You tilt your head to the side in confusion.

“Chan is a mind reader” Changbin interrupts.

“Get. Out” you shoot your thought right at him.

“Okay Jesus… I’m out I’m out” your eyes narrow at him.

“Yes healers can also hurt….we have the ability to cripple or destroy bones if you get us angry enough” chan gulps.

“You’re terrifying” he almost stutters on his word. 

“I suggest you stay out of my head then chan” you saying scooping some much needed food into your mouth.

“I like her….can we keep her?” Minho grins, his smile so wide you take it in knowing well this is probably the only time you will see Minho smile.

You giggle as chan slaps Minho’s arm “are you trying to get me killed” he grinds through his teeth.

Not that you could ever kill anyone, besides the threat you don’t have the ability to put bones back together yet let alone break them. The whole room goes silent, and you immediately know who has just walked into the room.

Han jisung is walking through the cafeteria door, it doesn’t take long for people to go back to talking “talk about terrifying” Changbin says.

“I heard he’s an incredible fighter” Minho interjects

You can help but stare at the boy his soft curly hair sweeping over his face. “We will see at training tomorrow” Changbin shoves a stack of meat into his mouth.

“You any good with a blade Y/N” Minho says trying to spark up a conversation.

“Oh ah….honestly I’m not much of a fighter” you say snapping out of your trance.

“Well I can help if you want to learn” his lip twitch into a soft smile.

“That would be lovely if you could” you scrunch your nose at him in a sweet smile.

You swear you see his cheeks go a light shade of pink before he says “okay sweet…I’ll see you fight tomorrow, and we’ll go from there” before he is back to eating again.

“Make sure you get some rest kido” chan says before getting up and cleaning his try.

You scoff at the use of the work kido “I’m 20 actually and you’re not that much older than me” you shout over the crowd.

“Okay noted….no terms of endearment” he chuckles. You shoot him a look and he suddenly remembered you conversation you had not but a couple of minutes ago.

……….

“Okay… it’s just a sparring match, right? There’s no way they’re going to kill me, right?” Anxiety prickles at the back of your mind as you watch the others. They stretch, limbs fluid and poised, their expressions a mix of focus and excitement as they prepare for the randomised testing matches. The atmosphere around you crackles with energy, and the sound of feet hitting the mats and the soft thud of fists meeting pads fills the air. You gulp, trying to shake off the unease that tightens your chest. Each participant seems so confident, so seasoned in this routine, and you wonder if you’re truly ready for what lies ahead. The questions swirl, relentless and insistent, as you try to calm the tumult inside you.

You let out a silent sigh of relief as you reflect on the fact that first-year students are only permitted to spar with one another. It seems only fair; after all, facing off against more experienced second or third-years would undoubtedly be an uneven contest, putting newcomers like you at a significant disadvantage.

The professor’s voice breaks through your thoughts, crisp and authoritative as he announces the next sparring match. “Han Jisung and Park Sung-hoon,” he calls out, gesturing to either side of the mat. The tension in the air shifts, as both students step forward, preparing to take their places on the mat. You can sense the anticipation building in the room, as fellow classmates gather around, eager to witness what promises to be an interesting duel between the two. The atmosphere crackles with energy, and you can’t help but wonder how each of them will use their skills in this competitive setting.

“Take your positions,” the referee announced, his voice cutting through the tension in the air. “You can start the match at any time. No weapons…no powers…hand-to-hand combat only.” A rush of relief washed over you at the mention of the rules; without the chaos of weapons or the unpredictability of powers, you might actually have a fighting chance.

The arena was charged with anticipation, a ring of eager spectators surrounding the Sparing mat. Your heart raced, but you steeled yourself for what was to come.

“I heard he was an amazing fighter,” came a soft voice from behind you. Turning slightly, you caught sight of a young blond first-year student. He seemed almost ethereal, with  hair that glowed in the light and eyes that sparkled . His delicate features were like a finely sculpted statue, and the freckles sprinkled across his nose added a charming touch to his perfectly symmetrical face. He had the kind of beauty that made people stop and take notice.

You couldn't help but feel a flutter of nervousness at his admiring gaze, mixed with the thrill that perhaps, in this moment, you were about to prove yourself as a fighter—if you could keep your nerves in check and harness your instincts.

“Well, we are about to see,” the baby-faced boy replied, a spark of mischief in his eyes.

As the scene unfolds, you can’t help but be transported back to the intense dinner conversation between Minho and Chan just yesterday. The two boys circling each other like cautious predators, each waiting for the other to make the first move. Nearby, you catch a glimpse of Sung-Hoon, who swallows hard, the tension evident on his face. Across from him, Han’s lips curl into a teasing smile, his confidence radiating outward.

“Are you scared of me, Sung-Hoon?” Han taunted, his voice dripping with playful mockery as if he were savoring the moment.

With a flash of determination, Sung-Hoon challenges the laughter rising in his throat. “Why don’t you just yield now and we can call it a day?” he retorts, his bravado barely masking the nerves flickering beneath the surface. In a sudden burst of resolve, Sung-Hoon lunges toward Han, throwing a punch in his direction. But Han, quick on his feet, effortlessly dodges the blow as if it were nothing more than a gentle breeze.

“Good…” Han said, his tone surprisingly serious as he eyed Sung-Hoon. “Next time, don’t step forward before throwing a punch. It's a dead giveaway.” You can’t believe he’s actually taking the time to teach Sung-Hoon.

Sung-hoon lunges forward, delivering a sharp jab followed by a powerful hook, but Han effortlessly blocks both strikes, a smirk playing on his lips. "FIGHT BACK!" Sung-hoon snarls, grinding his teeth in frustration, yet Han remains unfazed, standing like a statue, patiently anticipating Sung-hoon’s next move.

The hushed whispers from the guys behind you resume. “He’s toying with him,” one mutters, barely containing his excitement.

“It’s like he’s analyzing every single move,” the second one replies with wide eyes, captivated by the unfolding match.

“Quick to anger, I see,” Han taunts, his voice smooth and taunting, continuing to play these mind games with Sung-hoon. Confusion washes over you. What was Han trying to accomplish? Then it dawns on you: with each punch Sung-hoon throws, Han is meticulously studying his opponent’s fighting style, pinpointing the weaknesses lurking beneath the surface.

As the fight progresses, you catch subtle details about Sung-hoon’s technique. He fights with an aggressive flair, yet his style is flawed—he leaves himself vulnerable, exposing his body before lunging in to strike. His footwork is clumsy, a lack of balance that makes you wonder how one wrong step could send him crashing to the ground, defeated by his own mistakes rather than Han’s skill.

Jisung snaps a punch to his wide open rib cage and you swear you hear the snapping of bones. Everyone stands still when the blood curdling scream escapes sung -hoons mouth.

“Okay Han…. I think he’s had enough” the professor steps in between the two, jisung had barely even broken out into a sweat.

“Y/L/N on the mat,” you feel as though your heart is beating out of your chest, you begin to sweat there is no way you can fight that good.

“Rowyn you too” rowyn was a rather lanky person. A feeling of self conference washes over you as you take you mark on the mat, looking over to your team where Han now sits in your seat.

“Ready……..FIGHT” your heart beating at an alarming rate, you were not a fighter in the slightest. Yes of course you knew how to fight, your brother had made sure of that but you had never actually been in a situation where you had to before now.

…….

As you lay there on the fighting mat, panting and exhausted from the intense sparring match, Minho extended his hand to help you up. You grasped his hand tightly and he pulled you up with ease. However, as you both stood up, you noticed a look of disappointment etched on Minho's face.

"Well, that was a complete disaster," Minho said, his voice tinged with frustration. You could tell that he was disappointed with the way the match had turned out.

Suddenly, Chan interrupted. "Minho, stop," he said, snacking Minho's shoulder. "I have to agree with Minho, that was pretty brutal," Changbin added.

You couldn't help but feel a little disheartened by their comments, but you knew that they were only trying to help you improve.

“You attacked when you should have been defending” a voice echos from behind the boys.

“Rowyn had the advantage on every front, you should have defended and tired him out” just like that the group turns around to jisung strapping his wrists as if he’s ready to go another round.

“Excuse me?” you retort, folding your arms tightly over your chest in a gesture of defiance. The fire in your eyes reflects a mix of indignation and determination. How dare he question your skills? You’ve trained tirelessly, pushing your limits day after day, and yet here he stands, dismissive and skeptical. You can feel the muscles in your arms tense as adrenaline courses through your veins, igniting a spark of challenge within you. What does he truly know about what you are capable of?

“Ha,” Han chuckles before he looks up from his hand. “Cute, you think because you're Jackson’s little sister that you're going to get a free ride?”

“Excuse me!” you exclaim, your voice rising with anger. Your heart is racing, and you can feel the heat flushing through your cheeks. You've always prided yourself on being calm and collected, avoiding conflict whenever possible. Yet, something about this guy, with his smug grin and condescending tone, sends a wave of frustration surging through you. It’s as if every nerve in your body is ignited, and the usually reserved part of you can’t help but react. You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, but the simmering rage only intensifies, pushing you closer to a breaking point.

Han scoffs lightly, a mix of amusement and disdain flickering across his face as he pivots towards the gym. He peels off his jumper, the fabric sliding down his arms to reveal a snug tank top that clings to his brawny frame. As he rolls his shoulders back, the powerful muscles ripple beneath his skin, showcasing not just strength but a sense of readiness for the challenge that lies ahead. The air around him shifts with an electric energy, hinting at the intensity of his workout as he prepares to dive into his training routine.

“Come on, Y/N! Let’s get you out of here!” Chan and Minho exclaimed, pulling you away from the training room. “Don’t pay any attention to him,” Chan added with a warm smile, trying to ease your worries. “I’ve got your back and I’ll make sure you get the training you need!” His reassuring words filled you with a newfound sense of energy and determination.

“We all will” Minho adds

Taglist: @daceydeath @krishastumblernow @armystay89 @bakedlilgoonie

[drenched-in-sunlight]

Hey, so I remembered in one of your earlier post you said something along the lines of souls women only really falling into the helpless victim or serious sword lady trop. And how Ema was a great subversion of it, I was wondering if you had any thoughts on

I’m making a souls-like and trying to avoid the pitfalls where I can

Btw, I love your art so much I would love to support you but I am broke

sorry i let this reply marinate in the docs for months (along with a lot of other replies like im having a catalogue of Fromsoft replies that read like thesis at this point *crying* my job is not letting me sit down and edit them) but here it is.

firstly, thank you for your message, kind encouragement already means a lot to me, so don’t worry about not being able to support me or anything ! After all I’m not putting out any new books or fan merch haha.

Here is a whole rant about Ema but somehow my grievances with how they handle Malenia's story in comparison to Messmer also pops up.

Regarding your question about Ema, I love her because of how complete her story feels and how her personal motivation and personality are written as coherently as the male characters.

She’s a war orphan who did her best to survive, learned the sword from the best swordman but with the only purpose is to kill demons. Ema saw firsthand how violence and meaningless killing did to people, so her aim can be seen as trying to offer those lost souls a mercy death, so they don’t have to suffer as a mindless demon for eternity (as in shura ending).

Yet, she's actually more interested in being a doctor & saving life and it’s not something expected of her because she’s a woman or whatnot, she chose that.

(+ she's skilled enough with the blade that it shows in her mannerism to the point Wolf, who had never seen her hold a sword, knows that she's good with one).

she was ready to kill Scuptor - someone akin to a parental figure to her, should he succumb to grief and hatred. because she loved him. not to mention she saw Tomoe - someone in a way is also her mentor, tried to take her own life, while her childhood friend Gennichiro slowly went apeshit. like that girl witnessed so many insane stuffs & they spur her to be strong & steadfast in her ideal to protect her loved ones, even when it means to lay them to rest by her own hands.

her dialogue in Shura ending "maybe i should have killed you long ago" feels like being punched in the guts to me, because she knew Wolf turning out that way meant that somewhere along the way, all of them had failed him, had ignored the signs that all the killings he was tasked to carry out was taking a toll on him. And so she took upon herself the responsibility to offer him a mercy death, even as it broke her heart.

It’s the passionate drive and decisions made as her own person, not out of blind devotion to another character, and how much we know of that because the game let us find more about her, that makes her stands out from the epic sword lady category, while the violence and steely resolve she was capable of makes her stands out from the helpless maiden one.

-kinda lose the plot here with Elden Ring rant jumping out-

This is one of the main points I have about the difference between Messmer and Malenia, how even though their stories parallel each other, I think Messmer has the better writing and gets a more complete story. He’s super devote to Marika, but in his own way, not what Marika wants of him. Evidently with how he still fights the Tarnished because he deems us unworthy, despite knowing Marika sanctioned us for Lordship.

We see a lot of sides to him outside of just a filial son, his rage and sorrow and love and a moment of stubborn selfishness that results in him willingly become a curse that clings to Marika than to let go. We see his relationship with other characters and even though his love for Marika outweighs all else, it doesn’t negate completely others that exist outside of it.

And precisely because of that, it’s more heartbreaking to see despite all these connections he has with other people, he yearns to be reunited with his Mother above all else. That kind of devotion is more hard hitting to me than the writing for the Empyrean twins.

Like, Malenia…. outside of Finnlay (whose description says more about herself than shedding any new light on Malenia) and the mentor that we actually don’t even know much about yet, what are other personal connection she has outside of Miq? I could argue the Marika’s Soreseal in the Haligtree was meant for her and that she still loved her Mother in some kind of way all I want, but at the end of the day that’s a headcahon I have to theorize from item placement, and not many ppl will notice that. We don’t know for sure what Malenia thinks of anyone else but her twin and it drives me up the wall.

Another comparison I want to bring up is DS2 Lucatiel.

I fr think even Lucatiel gets a better story arc than Malenia, despite also largely being shaped by her relationship with her brother.

Loss frightens me no end. Loss of memory, loss of self. If I were told that by killing you, I would be freed of this curse… Then I would draw my sword without hesitation. I don't want to die, I want to exist. I would sacrifice anything, anything at all for this. It shames me, but it is the truth. Sometimes, I feel obsessed… with this insignificant thing called "self". But even so, I am compelled to preserve it. Am I wrong to feel so? Surely you'd do the same, in my shoes?

She is trying to find her brother, but at the same time wrestling with her own troubles and limitations. We get to know a lot of her own motivation and her fear. I mean one could argue that it's because she's an NPC while Malenia is a boss, but the same thing could also be said for Messmer like I explained above.

-back to Ema-

As the extra sauce, I love that Ema boss music has such layers to it. the theme of her - someone clinging to her humanity to the very end because she has ppl love & support her, also acts as an elegy for Wolf's lost of humanity, of him not being able to escape the abuse trauma he grew up in. its opening instrument also appears in Demon of Hatred's OST. Her presence and theme affects other characters’ life, and we get to see her marks on a personal level in the story’s overarching narrative.

Which is the same as how Marika’s presence is everywhere in the Elden Ring OST, that little soft piano. A little in Radagon’s theme, in Shaman’s Village, in the final DLC boss ost where the female vocals starts belting out “Hail, Marika the Eternal”, in a boss arena where she had walked through to scavenge the remains of her fallen family and ascended to an existence she knew would kill her all the same, but she would do it again every single time. Walking down that hell with her eyes wide open.

When a character that could get me to write paragraphs about like that… man you know how much the writing cooks.

[genevievefangirl]

Gen's Top 100 DBDA Fics - PART 7

For all caveats/rules/backstory, please read the Master Post

signed, sealed, delivered By: sulfuric @c-rowland Rating: G Tags: Fluff, Mutual Pining, Getting Together Summary: The misty remains of the thing haven’t even cleared from the air of the office when Smiley—still on his back, rolling over like a golden retriever—is looking again to Uptight and grinning wide in a way the Postman can only reliably describe as stupid. He’s been standing here observing the ruckus for a good minute, now, and the two of them are completely in their own world, unaware of anything but each other. It takes him a tick, but Uptight smiles, too. (or: the Postman, observing.) My Notes: This is really fun as an outsider’s POV fic and who doesn’t love the Ghost Postman?!

So Tie Me to a Post and Block My Ears By: that_trans_autistic_guy @that-trans-autistic-guy Rating: T Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Hell, Trauma, Blindness, Deaf, Past Torture, Protective Charles Rowland Summary: Edwin loved his job. Truly, being a detective was something he’d daydreamed about in life and it was his reality in his afterlife, a genuine dream come true. Even better, he had the best partner and agency he could have ever asked for. The work was always intriguing and exciting, there was always more to learn and he always had his favorite person by his side. What more could he need? My Notes: Edwin having a panic attack and then Charles calms him down? Sign me up please! And the second chapter being Charles POV of the whole thing is the cherry on top.

solatium By: matelotage Rating: T Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, PTSD Summary: It's not something Charles noticed right away in the heat of things, considering they'd been in hell the first time it happened, and at the mercy of a deranged witch the other. But they'd been the only times he'd seen Edwin without his usual posh school attire. My Notes: Charles giving Edwin his coat after the events of Ep 8 is EVERYTHING TO ME

Something’s gone terribly wrong (But I’ll make it better) By: Aster_Flower114 aStar_flower on twitter Rating: NR Tags: Fluff, Protective Charles Rowland, Injury Summary: Short fic about Edwin getting badly injured during a case and is reluctant to rest for a bit My Notes: Edwin refusing help/rest when he's hurt? So in character, but also makes me want to smack him lol

Soul Protector By: Ice_Elf @ice-elf Rating: M Tags: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Protective Charles Rowland, Soul Bond Summary: Whoever held the greatest claim on his soul could be worse than Doll Spider. They might doom him to an eternity of pain that even he couldn’t imagine. But he didn’t care: this chance of freedom—of snatching victory from the creature that had stolen decades of his existence—was far greater than any risk. “The claimant is unknown,” the Justiciar stated. “If they approach the court with the proper paperwork, or are willing to be put to the sword, we will revisit your case. ~ Following their return from Hell, Edwin and Charles had thought themselves safe. They had believed that Hell and its denizens had no more claim on Edwin's soul. Unfortunately, not everyone is of the same opinion. When Edwin is summoned to a tribunal to determine whether the Doll Spider or the Office of Lost and Found has the greater claim on his soul, it is up to Charles, Crystal and the Night Nurse to put things right. The truth, however, may be more complicated than it seems - and more than one of the agency will be forced to confront their demons. My Notes: This is truly one of the greats for me. The worldbuilding, the characterization, and the plot are all exactly what I want out of a fanfic. And Edwin and Charles are just so devoted and codependent in this it is unreal.

Spectral Rage By: Baby_Spinach @a-jasminator Rating: T Tags: Hurt/Comfort, FIrst Kiss, Whump, Protective Charles Rowland, Protective Edwin Payne Summary: "Hold on, you think I'd turn?" Charles demands. "Every ghost has a unique trigger, and I can't say I wasn't a little concerned on a few occasions in Port Townsend. Then, with that same look in your eyes just now…" Edwin isn't wrong; it's not like Charles hadn't been thinking the same thing. But he shakes his head and attempts a comforting grin--Edwin's got too much on his plate to waste time worrying about the one person who's supposed to look out for him. "Don't worry, mate, I'm aces. So how do we find this demonic arsehole?" -OR- All ghosts are capable of turning vengeful. When their quarry is revealed to be a demon from Edwin's past, Charles and Edwin learn something important about their own personal triggers. My Notes: References to Edwin's time in Hell? The boys being mutually protective? One of them turning into a dangerous powerful mess when the other is threatend? What's not to love!

Still a Better Lovestory By: Vamillepudding @vamillepudding Rating: T Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hanahaki Disease, Protective Charles Rowland Summary: “That about did it,” Edwin says, patting himself down and straightening his bowtie. “Now, if you’re ready, I suggest we find a mirror and-“ “Did you just cough up a flower?” Charles interrupts. Flower, perhaps, is a slight exaggeration. It’s more like a petal, red and incredibly out of place here on the shore. Edwin clears his throat, but this time no petals follow. “Certainly it’s nothing to worry about.” Or: Edwin is suffering from a weird curse, but for some reason, he's refusing Charles' help. Charles is trying his best to fix it anyway, but Edwin is being oddly secretive about the whole thing. My Notes: I'll admit that I am not normally a Hanahaki desease persona, but this fic is amazing. And if you like Twilight references you will have a lot of fun with this!

still. By: Backstabberr @dulltulipz Rating: T Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Protective Charles Rowland, Hurt Edwin Payne, Hurt Charles Rowland Summary: He reached out to take Edwin’s hand. “I realized…I loved you, that I’m in love with you,” Charles said, his eyes moving from his hands to meet Edwin’s. He was crying as well, his hand gripping Charles tighter. “And you were gone, I couldn’t tell you, I wouldn’t be able to kiss you or hold you. It just started and ended at that very moment.” Charles tripped over some of his words before shuttering, he breathed deeply. [aka Edwin is badly hurt to the point he falls into some sort of ghost coma, Charles inevitably has a revelation.] My Notes: Injuried Edwin to protective charles to love confesssion pipeline strikes again! (And I love it every time)

Stories left on our skin By: DryadGurrl @dryadgurrl Rating: T Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Magical Tattoos, Protective Charles Rowland Summary: Charles always hated re-doing the tattoos, but that was part of why he'd insisted on taking over the task in the first place, it was easier, somehow, being the one to etch those marks into Edwin's skin than it was watching him do it to himself. Or: Edwin has magical tattoos to help with his spellcasting and when a case goes south, it's up to Charles to replace them (and not for the first time) My Notes: I would have never come up with this idea, but it is brilliant. Charles redoing magical tattoos for Edwin is just such an intimate gesture and really shows how close their relationship is.

sun in my eyes By: pisces_spider @pisces-swirlix Rating: G Tags: Fluff, First Kiss, Romantic Soulmates, Platonic Soulmates Summary: When Edwin reads to Charles, everything is okay. Edwin tries to get to the bottom of why Charles likes it so much. (Or — Edwin and Charles treat reading aloud like it’s a love language) My Notes: Edwin reading to Charles is literally one of my favorite things ever.

[circle-with-me]

it’s golden, like daylight

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x reader

Content warning/tags: fluff, lots of fluff, romance, brief mentions of smut, slight hurt w/comfort, noah being the sweetest bean.

Summary: It’s your three month anniversary with Noah, and he’s got a surprise for you.

Word Count: 4.3k

Tag list: @concretenoah @deathblacksmoke @tearfallpixie @cind6547 @malice-ov-mercy @meekahy @cookiesupplier @lacktoesandtoddlerants @midnight-eternals @jilliemiw86 @lyschko666 @lma1986 @somewhere-diamond

If you want to be added to my tag list please sign up here.

A pair of long arms twist around your waist and pull you close. The warmth of his body radiates through yours and you sigh contentedly. This had become a semi-weekly occurrence. Over the last month or so, Noah had started sneaking in your bed — slipping under the covers and drawing your body to his. He’d bury his face into your hair or neck, whispering sweet nothings into your ear.

Occasionally it would turn into sleepy sex, his slow, deep thrusts into you from behind taking you apart piece by piece. Most of the time he was just there to be next to you. He told you that going to sleep and waking up (again) next to you set him on a good course for the day. The two of you hadn’t been together long, but he wasn’t afraid to admit that to you. You loved how vulnerable he was.

As you lie in his arms, you notice you don’t feel as rested as you normally do. You pry one eye open and it’s significantly darker in the room than it usually is for his visits. You glance at the clock and see the time — 11:58 pm.

As you turn your head to nuzzle into him, he places a chaste kiss on your cheek. “Mmm, a midnight visit. What’s the occasion?” He plants another kiss, then another. You feel him smiling against your skin.

“You don’t remember, bug?”

You rack your brain but you’re so sleepy nothing is coming to mind. Noah is apparently impatient as he squeezes you.

“C’mon baby..” he whines.

“I’m sorry, Noah. I’m so tired I can’t even think.. please tell me.”

Noah chuckles softly and nudges your cheek with his nose so you’ll look forward. You notice now that the clock says 11:59 pm.

“Let’s wait until midnight and see what happens.” He whispers.

The room falls silent — the only sounds are your breathing and the traffic outside. Noah traces light patterns against your tummy and you sink further into his chest reveling in the feeling. His face is half buried in your neck, his eyes peeking out to keep an eye out on the time with you. You look at him through the corner of your eyes and wonder how you got so lucky. There’s this beautiful boy in your bed, in your life. What he saw in you was a complete mystery but you prayed to whatever higher power would listen that you could keep him.

“Bug, you’re not watching.” He says with a soft smile. Your eyes shoot over to the clock just in time for it to flip over to 12:00am.

Noah squeezes you tight and whispers into your ear, “Happy three months, baby.”

The realization that he wanted to be here with you the second your anniversary settles in and you’re quickly overcome with emotions. Your eyes well up with tears as he peppers your face with kisses. Suddenly, you feel terrible because it didn’t occur to you that was what he was here for. You were afraid he thought you had forgotten. The tears start falling much faster and Noah is quick to notice.

“Y/n? Bug, what’s wrong?” He asks, pushing your hair out of your face.

You shake your head and bury your face into the pillow. The muffled sobs coming from you make Noah worry even more. He pushes up on his elbows and kisses your shoulder.

“Please tell me. Did I do something wrong?”

Your laughter confuses Noah, but it’s the most ridiculous question he could have asked.

You turn your head slightly to look at him. His hair falls in his eyes, soft and full of concern, as he gazes down upon you. Noah kisses your palm when you bring it to cup his face as his thumb brushes away your tears. He shifts down to you where his face is hovering over yours. No words are said, however his face silently pleads with you to tell him what is going on.

“You haven’t done a thing, baby. You’re perfect.” You sniffle. “I’m just upset because I don’t want you to think I forgot about our anniversary. I’m just tired. I wasn’t thinking and I…I’m sorry.” You cover your face with your hands, crying quietly. There’s no initial response from Noah and you’re sure you’ve screwed everything up.

“Baby..” He says through quiet laughter. He pulls at your hands so he can see your face but they won’t budge as you’re slightly embarrassed now. He huffs and you move one finger slightly, peeking out at him. He spots you immediately and grins. You quickly move your finger back to its original position.

“If you’re not going to let me see that beautiful face of yours then I’m going to have to take matters into my own hands.”

You feel the bed shift as he swings his leg over your body, he pushes you flat on your back and cages in your hips with his legs. He attempts one more time to pry your hands off your face to no avail.

Noah chuckles. “Have it your way, then.”

His fingers sneak under your shirt and wiggle against the skin of your ribcage, causing your stomach to contract. You giggle and squirm underneath him but hold your hands tight to your face. He continues around to your back and down your sides trying his best to get you to move your hands but is unsuccessful.

You feel a presence close to your face but don’t dare to look. “Guess I'm going to have to take it up a notch.” He whispers in your ear, and kisses the lobe. You giggle, knowing what his plan was and that you were going to fail miserably. It didn’t matter. He wasn’t going to let up until everything was fixed.

Noah focuses his hands on your stomach, tickling and your hands instantly fly to his to push them away. Your laughter and his fills the room. He grabs your hands and gently places them above your head. He kisses your forehead, then your nose, and finally your lips.

“I know you didn’t forget, bug. We just talked about it not long ago, remember?”

The memory of your conversation from the day before resurfaces in your mind. Originally he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to spend time with you on your actual anniversary due to band obligations but he surprised you and told you that he had rearranged some things to make it work. You were overjoyed and couldn’t wait to spend the day with him.

You wiggle your arms and Noah lets go of them. As you wrap them around him, you let out a breath.

“You’re right, thank you. I’m so glad you’re here.”

Noah’s eyes crinkle when he smiles at you. The moonlight shining through the window casts against his face. No one has ever looked at you the way Noah has. He gazes at you as if you hung the moon. It’s almost like he is trying to memorize your face. It’s a look of devotion and admiration, and it gives you butterflies.

“I have the whole day off and it’s our anniversary.” He leans down and kisses your lips softly, his next words ghost against them in a whisper. “I want to make sure I spend every second with my best girl.”

Noah spent the rest of the night making love to you. He took his time, pulling climax after climax from you. He spoke soft praises in your ear about how good you were for him, how amazing you felt, and how you were made just for him. He finally let you fall asleep around sunrise, your head against his chest, both arms wrapped tightly around you.

Dishes clanking in the kitchen wake you from a deep sleep. You roll over to see the time: 10:00am. The joints in your legs and arms crack as you stretch and yawn. You put on a hoodie and a pair of shorts and walk towards the kitchen.

Noah hears your footsteps on the tile and whips around. He grins and opens his arms wide.

“There’s my sleepyhead!”

As grumpy as you are in the mornings, his smile is contagious. You all but run into his arms and he hugs you tightly. He nuzzles his head into your hair, breathing in the scent of your shampoo.

“I was about to come in there and wake you up.”

You laugh and look up at him, resting your chin on his chest. “I’m so sorry but someone kind of wore me out last night.”

Noah cocks an eyebrow and smirks. He leans down and places his lips close to yours but doesn’t let them touch.

“I didn’t hear you complaining last night.” He breathes.

You nearly shiver at his words but manage to keep your composure.

“Who says I’m complaining now?”

He chuckles and slides along the counter, revealing a tray of food that was behind him. On the tray there was a plate of pancakes, a smaller plate with eggs and bacon, a small bowl of fruit, and a glass of orange juice. You stare at him in awe but notice his face drops a little as he looks at the tray.

“I actually wanted to wake you up so I could bring you breakfast in bed… but I guess I was too loud, huh?” Noah says, rubbing the back of his neck.

He looks so nervous like he has messed everything up. You silently curse yourself for not staying in bed longer and ruining his plans. You stand on your tiptoes and place a kiss on his cheek.

“This is perfect, baby. Thank you so much.”

Noah’s eyes light up.

“You know, I can still bring it to you in bed. It won't be a surprise anymore but I’d still like to.”

You nod your head and giggle. Noah smacks your butt playfully as you turn around and head back towards your room.

A few moments later, Noah enters the room with the breakfast tray. He walks slowly towards your bed, careful not to spill anything. He sits the tray across your legs and climbs in next to you. You look down and notice something was different. A small vase with daisies had been placed in the corner. Your heart explodes in your chest. Could this man be any cuter?

You take Noah’s face in your hands and kiss him. “Thank you, Noah. This is so sweet.”

He rubs your bottom lip with his thumb and kisses you again. “Happy Anniversary, Y/N.”

To your pleasant surprise, Noah had much more than breakfast planned for your day. He took you to get your nails done, then to lunch at your favorite restaurant. Afterwards, you went to Pacific Park to ride the ferris wheel and walk on the beach. He even took you to buy a new dress and shoes for dinner, despite your protests.

As you walk to your front door he stops you and places a blindfold over your eyes. He leads you to your room and has you sit on the edge of your bed. He leaves the room for a moment, then reenters. You hear shuffling and something lands on the bed next to you. He removes your blindfold and you look around the room, noticing nothing different.

“Get dressed. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

He leaves again before you can say a word. You slip into the red dress he bought you that cost more than you would ever pay, but as soon as he saw you in it he insisted on buying it for you. Or rather, as soon as he saw you in it he pushed you back into the dressing room and fucked you in front of the mirror so you could see how beautiful it looked on you.

After that he said you couldn’t return it to the rack, so he had to buy it for you.

The black strappy heels you put on were also Noah’s pick. You had to hand it to him. The man knew how to dress even when it came to dressing other people.. or maybe he just knew what he wanted to see his girl in.

You sit at your vanity and touch up your hair and makeup. The door opens and when Noah walks in you nearly drop your mascara. He’s in a black long sleeve dress shirt with the top two buttons undone, black trousers, and black leather chelsea boots. A gold watch on his wrist accentuates the black outfit perfectly.

“Ready, bug?”

You swing your legs delicately over the vanity bench and stand up. Noah’s breath hitches when he sees you. The dress looks even better on you now than it did at the store. Every curve and slope of your body is accentuated by the silky fabric. Your hair falls in soft curls over your shoulders and he notices you put his favorite shade of lipstick on. His heart aches because you’re the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen, and he knows you have no idea.

Noah holds his hand out for you and smiles softly. Graciously, you take it and he places gentle kisses on your knuckles. “You look so beautiful, baby.”

Blood rushes to your cheeks as you beam at him. “You don’t look half bad yourself, Davis.”

Noah laughs and holds out his arms, giving you a twirl to show off his outfit. “I do clean up pretty well, huh?”

“I better make sure we don’t go out in public with you looking that good. Someone might steal you from me.” You tease him.

Noah pulls you in an embrace, enveloping you in a deep kiss. It leaves you breathless, wishing it would never end, but it does. He separates from you, his dark brown eyes staring into yours.

“That’s never going to happen, baby.”

Noah insists on covering your eyes as he opens your bedroom door and leads you out to the hallway. He decided to forego the blindfold this time so it didn’t ruin your makeup. After some playful arguing, a lot of giggling from the both of you, and you nearly falling, he manages to position you right where he wanted you.

“Okay… you can open your eyes.”

Shades of red and white cover the floor, the petals scattered there form a trail that leads to the living room. Flameless candles light the dark hallway. Behind the floral aroma a delicious scent fills your nostrils and you hear movement in the kitchen. Is someone cooking?

Your eyes light up at the sight before you as you clasp your hands together in front of your face. As you turn to look at Noah, you realize he’s already watching you with wonder.

“Baby, it’s beautiful.” you say, softly. “You didn’t have to do all of this for me.”

He chuckles and places a hand on the back of your head kissing your temple. “We’re not done yet, baby. You haven’t even made it down the hallway.” He points at the small table next to the living room door and you see a heart shaped balloon, a card, and a small black box. You reach the table and open the card.

A polaroid of the two of you on your first date falls out. You pick it up and admire it. He had taken you to a movie and then to the swan pedal boats at Echo Park. He snapped a picture of you two, the LED lights on the boat illuminating your smiling faces. On the bottom, Noah wrote:

Day 1: Our First Date. The beginning of us.

You grab the black box and open it to see a small gold bracelet inside. Dangling from the chain you see a tiny swan. You run your thumb over the grooves in the metal where its wings are, eyes brimming with tears.

“Here, let me.” Noah says, delicately placing the bracelet around your wrist. He presses a kiss to the inside of your wrist and laces his fingers with yours. “C’mon, baby.”

He escorts you into the next room. If you thought he went all out for the hallway, you were unprepared for the living room. More flower petals lie on the floor and on the couch. The house was dark, the only light was what little daylight could peek through the shades and more flameless candles that Noah had placed everywhere.

A gigantic red heart balloon arch was placed above the couch. You laugh internally imagining Noah trying to get that thing inside your house. Suddenly, it hits you. When did he have time to put it in your house? More movement in the kitchen reminds you of your mystery chef. Sweet Noah. He has a plan for everything.

There’s another single heart shaped balloon, white this time, attached to the coffee table with a card and a smaller black box. Careful not to disturb the rose petals, you sit on the edge of the couch. The card holds another polaroid of you and Noah after one of his concerts. You’re hanging off of him as he kisses your cheek.

Day 32: My biggest fan.

The box held a single charm. A small gold concert ticket Noah had customized with “Bad Omens”. He attaches the charm to your bracelet and you lean into him. You play with the charms as he rubs your back. “Everything ok, bug?” He whispers.

You look up at him and nod, smiling. You choose not to say anything, knowing if you did you’d start crying. Noah stands up. “Let’s keep going. We’re almost to the best part.”

The next table had the same set up. The photo was a blurry one you had taken after a night out. You were both in bed and Noah had red lipstick, the very same you were wearing this evening, all over his face from where you had been kissing him. You were still kissing him in the photo. He wraps his arms around your waist from behind you and rests his chin on your shoulder, humming.

He was remembering the night just as you were. You had stumbled into the house drunk, unable to keep your hands off of each other. The lipstick you were wearing made it onto many other parts of his body that evening and he insisted on taking photos of it all. You made him promise to keep the more risqué ones locked away, but it seems he chose the most appropriate one for this evening.

Day 72: My wild girl…and why red is my new favorite color.

Your cheeks heat at his note. Noah growls in your ear teasingly and kisses behind your ear. He prompts you to open the box, so you do. A red lips charm lies inside causing you to burst out in laughter. Noah laughs as well and attaches it to your wrist along with the other two. He pats you on the butt and guides you into the dining room.

Fairy lights were strung from the ceiling. A white tablecloth and dark red table runner had been placed on the table. A large vase of flowers, a mixture of roses and daisies, sits in the middle. The table was set beautifully; plates and utensils all in their places. A bottle of wine was placed next to a bowl of strawberries. He really didn’t leave out a thing.

Noah pulls your chair out and helps you in. He slides into the chair opposite you and gives you a big smile you can’t help but mirror. As soon as you place your napkin in your lap, someone busts through the door from the kitchen. You’re shocked to see Nicholas, also dressed up, with two plates of food. He practically floats over to you and places your plate down first, then Noah’s.

“Nicky..” You speak as you gently grab his arm, pulling him down to you. “How much did Noah pay you to do all of this?”

“Not a dime, darling. I did this out of the kindness of my heart.” He says, flashing you a sweet smile.

You raise your eyebrows in disbelief, but he just winks at you. “You’re important to Noah, so you’re important to me. It’s my pleasure.” He kisses your cheek and you thank him.

“You’re welcome. However, Noah, next time you want a huge balloon arrangement snuck into her house, you’re on your own. That thing was a bitch to get in the door.” Nicholas calls out as he walks back to the kitchen.

“Nick, you know you’ll do it again in a heartbeat if I ask.” Noah yells.

“I don’t know shit!” Nicholas’ muffled yell from behind the door makes you snicker.

Conversation and laughter make dinner and dessert pass by quickly. After he passes out dessert and cleans up the kitchen, you catch Nicholas attempting to slip out quietly. He gives a little wave and you smile and wave back, a silent thank you.

Noah checks his watch and quickly stands up. “We have to hurry or we’ll miss it!” he exclaims, excitedly. He brings you out to your back patio. There are no fancy decorations. Just a polaroid camera, a black sharpie, and a familiar small black box.

The sun is setting now. The sunlight shines through the clouds, and the sky turns beautiful shades of pink and purple. Noah sighs in relief.

“We didn’t miss it.”

The realization that Noah was so worried about missing the sunset with you is painfully sweet. You watch him as he grabs the camera and stuffs the sharpie in his pocket. He turns you both around so your backs are against the setting sun, and he drapes his arm around your shoulder. You wrap around his torso and he rests his head on yours, snapping the photo.

The polaroid shoots out of the camera and he shakes it. Once the photo appears you look at it at the same time. The golden light shines through and around the two of you. Almost as if the two of you were glowing.

“I think this is our best one yet.” You say.

Noah agrees and hands you the black box. The final charm. This one was kept in a satin bag inside the box so you were extra careful with it. You place it delicately in your hand. The heart shaped charm was made of red murano glass. You gaze at the charm in awe of its beauty. It was perfect, just like all of the others.

Noah stares at you, at the sunlight shining on your face. He had spent years chasing the feeling he has in this very moment with you. All of the pain and heartbreak he had caused and experienced meant nothing anymore.

You were right in front of him and everything he ever wanted.

He had spent so much time agonizing over this night. Was it too soon? Should he wait? Would you feel the same way? He wanted everything to be perfect for you. You were perfect.

Noah sits the photo down. He takes your face in his hands and kisses you passionately. You taste like wine and honey from dessert and he licks further into your mouth yearning for more.

When he pulls away he places his forehead against yours. His hands never leave your face, his thumbs running along the apples of your cheeks. You stare up at him through your lashes, watching as his mouth opens and closes again.

“I love you so much, y/n.”

Your stomach turns a million flips at once. The pounding of your heart makes you dizzy. Tears well up in your eyes and you smile so hard your cheeks hurt instantly. He makes a surprised noise as you roughly attach your lips to his.

Noah takes your response as a positive one, assuming you wouldn’t kiss him if you don’t feel the same way. However, his anxiety is getting the better of him and he can’t wait any longer. He gently separates the two of you, the noise you make is so pitiful he regrets it immediately, but he has to know.

When he looks at you, he is unprepared for the pout you give him. It was so cute he couldn’t help but laugh. You stomp your foot but you’re also laughing.

“Why did you stop kissing me?” You question, still pouting.

“I’m sorry, baby, but…I need to hear you say it. I have to know you feel the same way.”

It dawns on you that in your excitement you had failed to respond to him. You wrap your arms around his neck.

“Baby, of course I feel the same way. I’ve actually wanted to say it for a couple of weeks now but was afraid it was too soon. I’m so glad you said it, though. All of this you’ve done for me today… This has been the best day ever. No one has ever loved me or taken care of me the way you have. I love you more than anything, Noah Davis.”

Noah grins and lifts you off the ground, twirling you around. He smothers your face, neck, and shoulders with kisses. When you thought he was done, he started again.

“Baby, are you ever going to stop?” You say through a fit of giggles.

“Nope, never.” He says, his voice muffled by your neck.

You whine and he groans playfully.

“Fine, but you have to say it again.”

You sigh, pretending like it was so taxing and kiss his nose. He smirks at you, waiting.

“I love you, Noah.”

Noah gives you a satisfied smile and pulls the sharpie out of his pocket. He uncaps it and picks up the polaroid. He taps the marker on his chin for a moment in contemplation and then begins to write.

Day 90: Our anniversary. Sunset.

The day you said you love me.

[wonderlandwalker]

The Will of the Moirai | Finnick Odair x Reader

THG Masterlist / Taglist / Inbox

Summary: Part three of Remember and Trying to Forget. Time passes in district 13 and Finnick wonders if everything will ever be as it was, but the moment everything feels like it did before, fate interrupts

Content Warnings/Tags: Angst, memory loss, blood, gunshots, major character injury, hurt/very little comfort, my love of Greek mythology, no use of y/n

Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: So turns out I lied and I wrote this before my exam but since I did I might as well post it. Look I tried to make it less sad but as I was writing it somewhere my thoughts just took over. If anyone knows how to make happy endings let me know cause by the gods we all know Finnick deserves one. I also nerded out a bit on the mythology part I'm sorry

Vocabulary:

Moirai = the three fates which determine the length of someones life

Atropos = one of the fate sisters who cuts the thread of someone's life

River of lost souls = one of the five rivers of the underworld, the river of misery

Lethe = one of the five rivers of the underworld, the river of forgetfulness

He knows someone died today, he knows because whenever this happens there is always an announcement. And he’s never sure why they do this, because to him it feels like they're just adding salt to a fresh wound. He doesn’t understand the custom, and he hopes he will never get the chance to learn either, hopes that Atropos will have mercy on him for a little longer. He doesn’t know who it is that passed away in the hospital wing, he hears them mention a name but he’s not listening. He can hear someone else, someone yelling about how the doctors did something wrong, how they messed up. And he isn't sure if it’s insensitive, but he does not care much, he can’t get himself to care because it isn't you. You are standing next to him and to him, all is right. For the most part

It’s comical almost, the way he gets excited every time, as if this is the last piece of the puzzle and the picture will be complete, but every time there is still another piece lost somewhere. And while he’s grateful every time that light of recollection passes through you, it’s not enough. It will never be enough because you do remember him, but you don’t remember him like he remembers you. He thought he knew what patience felt like, because first, he spent his time waiting for you to fall in love with him the way he had always known he loved you. then he was tested whenever you would wear something just a little too revealing to a party, making him wonder if patience really was a virtue, and if it was, he’d prefer spending his time searching for vices. 

Yes, Finnick thought himself a patient man, but as the days continued to pass by he found himself reevaluating the standard. Because he wasn't annoyed, he wasn't anxious, and he was surely not tolerable. So maybe this wasn't a question of patience, maybe, he thought, this was a test of his love for you. And with that thought, he went to bed every night. He went to sleep not with the comfort of you next to him, but with the comfort of knowing that this was a scrutiny he would spend eternity enduring in order to get you back.

With that he spends his days next to you, knowing that even if it takes forever, he will still be there. So he makes conversation with you during dinner and makes you laugh at parties, he makes sure everyone knows he is yours, even if you don’t know it yet. So when someone interrupts him from the hypnotizing effect you have on him, he tries not to pay it any mind, but unfortunately, that is not an option this time. Because the man he had seen making a commotion the other day is here, he is even more upset than he had seemed before, and this time he has a gun.

He sees the man step closer, and he is about to take his chances to try and disarm him when he sees you stepping forward. You take a step closer to the man while holding out your hands, you look as if you’re trying to address an easily startled animal. But it’s working, and Finnick can’t say he’s surprised, because who could say no to you? You’re trying to reason with him, and usually, Finnick would have said it’s no use, but he knows how persuasive you can be. He remembers how you were always the one to reason, even when he didn't see the point. You always had to try, because you had told him about the good of people, but you were the only one Finnick saw any good in. You’re telling the man about the importance of memories. Youre talking about the fondness you hold to your own memories, but they're not just yours, they're your memories with him. You’re talking about that day in the arena, you’re saying how scared you were, scared that those would be your last moments. But you didn't care, because you knew Finnick was alive, and he would never let the memory of you die. You’re asking the man about the woman who died, he still can't remember her name, but you do, you remember. And it’s working, it’s all working like a tower of cards put together by the gentlest of hands. 

But it doesn't take much to destroy what you’ve built, the smallest gust of wind can knock it over. He watches it happen, he sees the soldiers slowly and silently entering the room to try and put a stop to the rampage the man has caused. He sees it and he knows everything is about to start to crumble down. So he does the only thing he knows how to do, he reaches for you. He reaches for you because he knows that once the man notices what is happening, your tower of cards will be knocked over and you will have lost the battle you’ve been trying to win. And he can’t stop it from happening, but he can save you from the fall. He reaches out to you and he can feel your soft skin against his as he tugs you towards him. And he can’t explain it, because he knows there isn't a logical way to do so, but the moment he feels your touch, he knows everything is back in its right place. He knows you remember.  He gets to you, and he hears the shot echo through the room, but he doesn't want you to have to see it, he shields you from everything that's happening because youre letting him, for the first time since the games you’re letting him. 

But he should've learned by now that things are never this simple, and every time he thinks he’s won, there is always something there to push him off the pedestal he’s just built. He looks and he sees the man standing there, and he doesn't understand. Because he heard a gunshot, but the man is still standing, being surrounded and being detained, but standing. He doesn't understand until he can feel you collapsing, he looks back to you as he supports you and his blood turns to ice. Because he sees his hands, the hands that were supposed to save you, and they’re covered in blood. They’re covered in your blood. He can see the blush disappearing from your cheeks and the way your eyes are starting to close. And for once he wished he didn't remember. That he couldn't recall the last time this happened, because he wants to have hope, he wants to convince himself that tomorrow everything would be okay, because he’s managed to get you back yet again. But the memory hangs over him like a dark storm he should’ve seen coming. He spent days, weeks begging whichever god would be listening to make you remember, to give you back to him. And it turns out they heard him, but they have never been known to be fair. He remembers the strength it took you to get here, and he doesn't know if you have enough left to do it again. 

And if he could, he’d offer himself to the river of lost souls, he would spend eternity reliving this misery as long as he knew you wouldn't have to. He would dive into it like the sea on a summer night back home, because to him, that would be better than seeing you be taken to the Lethe again. And he knows the moirai do not care what he has to say, that they do not care what he is willing to offer, but he is still pleading to them anyway. Because you open your eyes when he asks you to, and you look at him the same way as when he found you in the capitol, you look at him as if nothing is wrong, because he makes it all right. And surely, he thinks, this cannot be how it ends. He’s desperate, and he’s scared. But he’s no longer scared you’ll pull away when he kisses you, because your lips are melting together with his again and he’s sure this is what heaven must feel like. Except the moment you stop kissing him, the moment your hand falls from where it was holding his face, he knows this was never heaven, this is his hell.

Next part: One day at a Time

Taglist: @hesperdern @mrsnancywheeler

[moonlightazriel]

Chapter 15: The plan /// Azriel X F!Reader

Summary: They go back to the Night Court to form a plan.

Word Count: 2,2K

Warnings: SUMT!

Notes: This was supposed to be released this morning, but your girl over here, overslept duo still being sick and woke up at lunch time! Enjoy the reading kids!

Main Masterlist

Worlds Apart Masterlist

“We need to go back to the Night Court.” She spoke again, the cold breeze from the open window making her body shiver. Azriel tried not to look at her pert nipples, as she still stood naked in the middle of the room. 

“Yeah, yeah, we can go tomorrow.” Azriel said, approaching her, his hand cupped her cheek, his thumb caressing the scar on the side of her face that only added to her astonishing beauty. He had never seen someone so beautiful in his life, scars and all. 

“And we need as many Vanserras as we can find.” Her breath hitched as his lips started to wander down, kissing the column of her neck, making her dizzy with lust. 

“I'll get you an army of them.” He said, rubbing his clothed cock against her wet abdomen. 

She whimpered as he bit into the pulsating vein of her neck, pumping life into that wonderful body. He thanked the Mother that she was still alive and that she was still in his life, he would worship the ground she walked on for the rest of eternity without complaining. 

A claw dragged across his left wing, making them twitch and he groaned against her skin, sinking his teeth further without even noticing, a tickle of blood ran down her neck, he licked it back, feeling the metallic taste on his tongue. 

“Did you just drink my blood?” She asked in between the whimpers that left her mouth, her pussy throbbing with excitement to have him inside of her again. Not only arousal coated her thoughts, but the need to taste his blood. She licked her lips thinking about the sweet taste he must have. 

“I'm so sorry…” She interrupted him, pulling his head up and holding his chin, he was at her mercy, completely drunk off her. 

“It's only fair now that you allow me to do the same.” She hissed and Azriel felt his cock painfully restraining against his clothes, he would let her do whatever she wanted with him. So he nodded. 

Her hand wrapped around his neck, making him moan pornographically at the feeling, usually he was the one in charge, but having her pushing him backwards with her hand tightly clutched to his neck made something to him. 

The back of his legs hit the bed and he fell, her glorious naked form hovering over him like a goddess. With an iron claw she slit his neck open, the red substance started to pour and she leaned down, her hips caging him against the bed and her lips attached to his neck. 

His blood was as sweet as she imagined, the taste driving her insane. She grinded her hips against his clothed cock, her clit bumping against him and she moaned against his neck, his fingers dipping in the soft plump skin of her waist. 

He couldn't keep doing it or he would cum in his pants like a teenager. So he forced her to stop her movements, earning a disapproving growl from the female. Her tongue licking one last stripe on his neck before the wound started to close and he manhandled her into the bed. 

Like a hungry male, Azriel spread her legs wide open, his warm tongue licking her clit, making her body jolt with the sudden wave of pleasure that overcame her with that simple move. He kept licking her up and down, feasting on her sweet cunt. 

Y/N moaned, her fingers grabbing his unruly hair and forcing his face further against her pussy. Her hips rocking back and forth, making a glistening mess on his face. He kept lapping at her folds, two fingers pumping inside her, curling upwards to hit that perfect spot inside her.

She felt a knot forming quickly on her belly, all the worries of the day forgotten as she lost herself in the feeling of his tongue against her skin, sucking, kissing and licking her cunt so deliciously that her eyes rolled so hard that she wondered how they got back into their original position. 

Her back formed a perfect arch in the bed, her toes contracting and her walls clenching around his fingers. She was about to cum when Azriel suddenly pulled it all out, stopping his movements and getting up. 

She rested her weight on her elbows, her blue coated cheeks looked adorable that way. She watched as he stripped his clothes off, first his shirt, slowly revealing inches of his tanned, defined abdomen to her hungry gaze. 

He discarded his shirt somewhere, neither of them caring about the mess in the room. After it was his pants, his powerful thighs making her salivate, but her eyes drifted to the bulge in his underwear, the contour of his cock leaving her eager for him, more wetness pooling on her cunt, dripping from her thighs and staining the sheets. 

Azriel revealed his long cock, tip leaking precum, twitching with the air that entered from the window. He was so beautiful, she wanted to learn every little detail of his body, never getting tired of seeing him naked. She needed him like she needed the air in her lungs. 

Azriel pushed her chest down so she was laying again. He positioned himself in the middle of her thighs, coating his cock in her juices, making her shiver with anticipation. 

He sunk his cock down, filling her to the brim with him, she gasped at the feeling. Just so he would slide all the way out, to slam on her again. He set a slow pace, prolonging their moment just a little while longer before he pounded into her hard and fast.

She moaned as his lips attached back to her breasts, playing with her nipples. All the pleasure building up again quicker than before. His hands held her wrists together above her head as he slammed his cock repeatedly against her cunt. 

Squelching sounds filled the room, their bodies fitting perfectly together, like the Mother made them for each other, and as time went on, Azriel was sure that she really sculpted her to be his perfect match. His equal in every form, his mate. 

He removed himself, spinning her until her abdomen was against the bed and her ass was held high in the air for him, with a handful of her hair, he entered her again. Pounding like crazy, the bed started to crack, but that didn't stop him from his brutal pace. 

The orgasm that hit her made her whole body collapse on the bed, squirming and shaking, her walls fluttering around his cock. Azriel wrapped a hand around her neck, pulling her up, with her back flush against his chest. 

He kept fucking her oversensitive walls. She kept her eyes shut as wave after wave of pure bliss consumed her body. Azriel’s movements faltered and he cummed inside her, coating her wall with his slick. 

He turned her head towards him, clashing his lips against hers, as his cock released the last drops of his spent inside her warmth. He let go of her, pulling out and grabbing her bridal style so they could get cleaned up and have their well deserved rest. 

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

When she woke up the next day, Azriel wasn't in bed, she looked around but the sheets were cold, like he got up hours ago. Her body felt relaxed and a bit sore from their activities yesterday but she got up anyway.

She couldn't find her bags, just a pair of leathers and her toothbrush, maybe Azriel wasn't there cuz he was busy packing. So she did her daily routine, pulling her hair up in a ponytail and strapping her sword against her back and her cloak in place. 

Downstairs she found Jurian having breakfast, he motioned for her to join him and she did, sitting in front of him before starting to fetch things from the table so she could eat.

“Thank you, I was starving.” She said, biting into a piece of bacon. 

“I can imagine, after yesterday.” She felt her cheeks hot in embarrassment at the thought that maybe they had heard them, but Jurian quickly dismissed her concerns. “I would be shitting my pants if I was locked up with Koschei, or Mantyx, whatever his true name is.”

“We're going back to the night court, will you join us?” She didn't want to talk about how she felt inside his lair, at least not this early in the morning.

“I can't, can't leave my wife alone, she would kill me.” Y/N raised an eyebrow, curiosity lacing her features. 

“You and Vassa?” Jurian nodded. 

“You know, she didn't resist my charm.” The female laughed, bowing her head towards him. 

“Where are my manners? I'm in the presence of a King.” Jurian rolled his eyes. 

“Oh shut up!” She suppressed a smile. 

“Yes, your highness.” Jurian flipped her off and in that exact moment Azriel and Lucien appeared, the two very sweaty and with some fading bruises. 

“Good morning.” Azriel said, kissing her forehead and sitting by her side, stealing a piece of pancake from her plate. 

“Good morning, what happened to you?” She looked at the two, smiling at Lucien. 

“Good old training.” The redheaded male replied. The four of them finished their breakfast, cleaning everything afterwards, leaving Y/N to feed Meraxes while Lucien and Azriel got ready. 

This time, they would travel as fast as they could, not having time to waste after her discoveries, they had to prepare and act fast. So thirty minutes later they were ready to leave. 

“I’ll be back soon, this way is faster.” She said, Meraxes pouting at her, she rubbed his leg. “I promise to you, Jurian will take good care of you.” 

The wyvern eyed the male up and down and huffed, prompting him to act offended. Lucien had convinced her that winnowing would be faster than flying, it took her a lot of time and more sheeps than the normal to convince Meraxes to stay behind. She looked at him one more time, feeling her heart clench at the thought of leaving him behind.  

But her thoughts were cut short as Lucien grabbed hers and Azriel's hands, doing his thing and winnowing them back to the Night Court.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

They all sat at the dinner table in the River House, Elain had jumped on Lucien the moment they stepped in the house. Nesta was in a sour mood, finally being let out of that damned cabin. Feyre held Nyx as usual. 

“After a very interesting moment inside Koschei’s cabin, I found some interesting things.” She started. 

“You went inside the cabin?” Rhysand asked with a horrified expression, what the hell was she thinking?

“Yeah, but that's not what matters here.” She waved her hand in dismissal. “Koschei is actually Mantyx, the middle Valg King from the Valg dimension.” 

She then proceeded to tell them the whole story about when he first found Prythian, telling them about Celeste using the cauldron to bound the prince, the princess and the King to their respective cages. She talked about how he wanted Nesta and how only she could help killing Mantyx.

“So you're telling me that the only way to kill him is to free him?” Nesta spoke in disbelief.

“Precisely.” Y/N replied.

“But we managed to take both the Stryga and The Bone Carver out of their prisons without the cauldron, and they're both dead now.” Feyre said. It didn't make any sense to her.

“Just cuz we offered them deals, we bound their lives to ours in the process.” Rhysand explained. 

“And they were killed when Hybern used the cauldron on them.” Cassian added. “We need to plan before we act, get everything we need to make sure we kill him.”

“He probably has his monsters lurking around his island.” Azriel pointed. “We would need to get rid of them because they would definitely attack.” 

“We can prepare some legions, take them with us so they fight while Lucien, Nesta and Y/N fight Koschei.” Rhysand said, the plan starting to form in his head. 

“But how do we prevent him from getting away from the lake, who guarantees that he won't use his army to distract us while he runs away to Ramiel?” Elain asked, her eyes wandering far and her hands clutched to Lucien’s. 

“Celeste knew how.” The male started. “If her powers run in my veins, it also runs in my brother's. Beron isn't a Vanserra, he took after our mother’s family name, she passed down Celeste’s power, not him.” 

“Do you think your brothers would help?” Lucien nodded. 

“I can convince them.” He promised. 

“So we use them for what?” Nesta inquired. 

“They will guarantee that Koschei won't go anywhere, they will keep him trapped, the only part is that we'll be also trapped inside.” Y/N concluded and Nesta looked at her.

“The power of the cauldron and Celeste's power together, we can take that motherfucker down.” 

“I pray to the mother that we are right.” Feyre said, her blue eyes filled with despair. 

“We are going in the right direction, I can feel it.” Elain reassured them. 

“So what do we do now?” Rhys asked. 

“I'll prepare the Illyrians.” Cassian said getting up. 

“I'll finally go home, and I'll be back with my brother's.” Lucien offered a hand to Elain. “Will you go with me?” She nodded in agreement, love filled the gaze she directed him. 

“And I..” Y/N pointed to Nesta. “I'm fulfilling my part of the deal, I'm bringing him Nesta.”

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

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[ltash]

If LOVE were all.

If I pen down 'love,' may you feel it all.

I’ve spent my entire life perceiving love through Rumi’s eyes, a longing, endless yet futile. When you and I got married, people often asked, "Simon, why did you marry so soon?" It was an arranged marriage, although most think it was love. The past was bitter, and honestly, it was that bitterness that gave my pen its strength. Pursuing an advanced fellowship in transplant hepatology in a remote, deprived region like was the fulfillment of a promise I made to my brother, a realization of my own dream that completed me in ways I cannot describe. Yet, late at night, when the Express train thunders past the rail line buried in sand nearby, I remember the bitterness of my youth and how it found its completion in the form of you.

No matter how deeply one loses themselves in the world, God never lets one stray from His love, and it’s in this love that the feminine audacity also travels, those fragile threads, young promises on a fraying string walked in darkness. The moment you display such audacity, you are grounded, humbled, and then it’s up to the Divine’s mercy whether He keeps you on that ground or lifts you to the heavens. In the rhythmic clinking of anklets on muddied feet, dancing in the rain-soaked earth, at any moment, spirituality may sweep you off your feet; this is the journey of Divine presence.

Whenever I looked at you, a question often surfaced in my mind: Can one truly fall in love after marriage? For love, after all, is synonymous with unattainability. How can one love what one already possesses? When Orion was born, he replaced you. This was a new rain of emotions, yet, was this love? He was but a part of my own being. This was affection. A love so pure it rivaled even that elusive love. In the search for an answer to this question, my journey brought me to compassion.

I have yet to meet compassion, but I have fallen in love with its love. It provided me an answer to a question I could never find in Rumi’s books. A part of my restless soul remained in search of it: Can one truly fall in love after marriage? Yes, if that love becomes unattainable. Even love takes the form of passion if it transcends and becomes eternal.

If I pen down an ‘L’, you begin to feel me,

Then with ‘O’, your sleep escapes,

When ‘V’ flows, a soft shiver awakens,

If I complete ‘LOVE’, may you feel it all.

[beatmyfeet]

You dream of chastity cages, you will soon dream of a day of freedom

Your desire for submission has brought you to a point where even the thought of a chastity cage fills you with anticipation and excitement. But what you do not yet realize is that this cage, more than just an object, will become an integral part of your life, of your submission to me. Your freedom, once taken for granted, will become a distant dream that you will cherish more and more over time.

When I lock this cage around you, you will feel the cold metal against your skin, each movement reminding you of your captivity and your devotion to me. Every day spent in this chastity cage will deepen your submission, each moment of unfulfilled desire a testament to your commitment. The mere thought of freedom will become a temptation, a dream that will haunt you, reminding you that your pleasure is entirely under my control.

At first, you will find it difficult, each day locked up will seem like an eternity. But gradually, you will learn to love this frustration, to savor each moment where you feel completely at my mercy. The cage will become a symbol of our relationship, a tangible proof of your devotion. You will understand that each day without freedom is a day where you prove your commitment to pleasing me.

I promise you that you will soon dream of that day of freedom. But this dream will not be a desire for rebellion, but rather a constant reminder of the depth of your submission. Each time you think of that day, you will remember the sweet torture of chastity, how it intensifies every sensation, every thought directed towards me.

When that day of freedom finally comes, it will be a well-earned reward. But remember, this freedom will not last. It will be a brief escape, a fleeting taste of what you have given up for me. You will return to your cage with a new appreciation of your submission, understanding that your place is there, serving me, fully devoted to my desires.

In the meantime, let each day in the cage strengthen your devotion. Learn to find pleasure in frustration, to see each moment of chastity as an opportunity to prove your loyalty to me. Freedom will become a precious dream, but your reality will be one of submission and devotion, each day a new chance to show yourself worthy of my trust and control.

[tireddovahkiin]

IM SORRY guys, if you'll excuse me, I need to rant my heart out about my sweetheart bc I'm just so obsessed with his whole concept and existence as a whole character and omfg I love this man SO much.

With THAT said-

Let me introduce you to soundtrack that plays upon witnessing Sephiroths new form for the first time. AKA, as said in OG FF7, Bizarro Sephiroth.

OH. MY. FUCKING. GOD.

(if you plan on listening it (PLEASE DO I BEG OF YOU), i recommend that you use headphones.)

It's starts so quietly, then it errupts into a whole triumphant-like symphony of instruments and voices, then quiets down again, into something more demonic, maybe. It's sounds out of this world, makes your skin errupt in goosebumps in both dread and awe. It REMINDS us of an angel, of something sacred, heavenly, and yet, far from such pure being. This song is a FLAWED type or ethereal.

It's supposed to trick us, into thinking, what really HAS he become? Alien? Angel? God? Spirit? Something else entirely? A mix of all those? We don't know. And THAT'S what's fucking amazing and terrifying.

Notice how the harmony is different than the usual, 'angelic' one? Now, I'm no musician or professional at that department, BUT, what I did notice, is that in order to depict something heavenly, composers use 'diatonic harmony', the harmonization of a piece of music using chords derived from the diatonic scale of a particular key.

But, what THIS melody uses, is a 'non-diatonic harmony': which is similar to diatonic harmony, when it come to the central scale of a song, but brings other notes from different scales outside of that main scale and can create tension within the overall structure of the song.

As one of descriptions of Bizarro Sephiroth say, he is "a resurrected being who now wields unimaginable might and commands the arbiters of fate. He seeks to pierce through the layers of existence, and reunite fragmented space-time. He shall rule over the planet and create eternity."

He DOES have a few attributes of an angel, but his overall form is described as 'grotesque'. A mutation of limbs, two heads, faces, pair of multiple wings, and the rest unknown. It is said that all those limbs even act independently of one another. It's origins are known to come from JENOVA, an extraterrestrial life-form from outer space, a calamity from the skies, who acts like a parasitic organism in nature. His beloved "mother". Main antagonist of the game.

His whole form is just... Colossal, which again, this song depicts PERFECTLY. You feel intimidated. But you're unsure, whether if it's positive or negative. If you should be scared for your life, or stop to gawk at whatever has appeared before you. We can recognize that it's Sephiroth, but BARELY. (Imagining you're in Clouds pants for a moment lmao)

Also, notice how his usual motives in songs that we hear in the game are COMPLETELY gone? Like, it's an ENTIRELY NEW THEME for him. No lyrics, the usual, "ESTUANS INTERIUS IRA VEHEMENTI!" or even the choir chanting his name. I don't think there's not even JENOVAS melody present. NONE of that is present. They just literally sing something original, unknown, I think it's latin? It would be even BETTER if it's not, aka if it's actual gibberish, an invented language.

And all those small effects in the background, makes it all the more creepier in a way. Because, we're not even certain if Sephiroth is himself or someone new entirely, since he evolved. (WHO'S THAT POKEMO- im joking Sephy please don't kill me PLE-)

(STOP he's so fucking beautiful...)

Perhaps he has become somehow independent of his mothers influence, that greed for power has gotten to him, got him blinded. Now he just wants to spread havoc for his own PERSONAL fulfilment and joy.

Imagine that YOUR fate is in hands of THIS motherfucker, at his complete mercy.

Not really the most reassuring feeling, now, is it, when you look at him. (speaking for YALLS behalf I love this form so much it's so underrated goddamn i would gladly sell my soul and give my fate to him i mean what who said that)

id like to kiss and hug him :3

Jokes aside, THIS SONG AWAKENS THE NASTIEST GOOSEBUMPS I'VE EVER GOTTEN IN MY LIFE EVERY DAMN TIME I LISTEN TO IT, NO MATTER HOW MANY TIMES I'VE PLAYED IT.

It legit makes PRIDE bloom inside my heart, even if it's NOT MY theme, LOL XD. It's just that powerful. I start smiling from ear to ear, close my eyes, soak in this whole experience of a song. Pity that is so short, I wish it was longer.

Square Enix, the company you are. You fucking deserve that award for the best game soundtrack of the year.

Because, god damn. I ascend to heaven when I listen to this.

IM SO IMPATIENT... When will they upload Rebirth soundtrack on Spotify I need it it's not normal😭