#oh the anger and despair was beautiful

[animentality]

controversial hot take of the day:

game of thrones fans deserved what they got in 2019.

they deserved it.

nine years.

NINE years.

NINE YEARS they circle jerked themselves all over the rest of us, with the "omg game of thrones is the best story ever written in the history of humanity" and "it's so dark and there's so much sex and violence and it's so hot and it's sooo mature, it's not boring and sexless like lord of the rings-"

yeah well, Lord of the fucking Rings stuck the landing, didn't it?

it also had a fucking ending.

game of thrones fans probably won't see a novel ending. so the TV show ending is their canon ending.

and they deserve it.

they talked it up for nine years, acted like it was this perfect beautiful thing that would go down in history as the greatest story ever to grace this earth, and if you didn't like it, then you were called some kind of moron.

by fucking soccer moms with the literary comprehension of a tortoise, and cis white men who think anything with tits, rape, and people being beheaded is "deep" and intelligent.

I remember being pestered nonstop by my peers and my coworkers to watch it, because it's part of the "cultural zeitgeist" and it was a "part of history."

Well, well, well.

Icarus called to tell you your time was up, but you didn't listen until you hit the ground.

But those wax wings sure were beautiful while they existed, weren't they?

[peachyprophets-blog]

DROWNED LOVE

How the gods would mourn after the reader died

A/N: Heyy!! I will be working on an alternative version in the next few days, what if one of the gods (who knows heheh) helps the reader to get back to Ithaca (she probably only returns to her family after the events of the Ithaca Saga).

And no, we don't greet happiness with open arms :)

°•��☆○•°

Zeus:

જ⁀➴Would mourn you for thousands of years.

જ⁀➴ Created a cloud that has your shape.

જ⁀➴Despairs because the cloud is not exactly like you. If you are mentioned near him, he would look at the person threateningly.

જ⁀➴Blames others for your death.

જ⁀➴"My beloved, not a day will go by that I won't miss you!"

Poseidon:

જ⁀➴After your death, the seas trembled and for years they were plagued with violent storms

જ⁀➴Tries to carry on as best he can Often argues with Zeus about who is to blame

જ⁀➴Would build you a monument that he would put in his palace

જ⁀➴All mortal women he fell in love with always resembled you in appearance or character.

જ⁀➴"My beloved, may the waves sing you to sleep, no matter where you are"

Hades:

જ⁀➴He mourned most of his brothers

જ⁀➴It tore him apart to see his brothers like this, but he knew it was best for you

જ⁀➴Yet he watched you every day from the underworld

જ⁀➴Even when you died, he immediately welcomed you into his home, but didn't say anything to the other gods.

જ⁀➴"Find peace in your end, rest now little one"

Apollo:

જ⁀➴THIS MAN IS SUFFERING

જ⁀➴He has lost the protégé he loved so much

જ⁀➴It seemed as if the sun wasn't shining as brightly anymore

જ⁀➴He dedicated songs, poems and works of art to you

જ⁀➴What had happened was something he never wanted to happen, he had lost the person he loved again

જ⁀➴He transformed something that had once belonged to you into a beautiful flower that could bloom even in the worst of circumstances.

જ⁀➴"The sun protects you everywhere, my sunshine, bloom where no one else can bloom"

Hera:

જ⁀➴Look you might think she would not be sad, BUT SIKE!!!

જ⁀➴Hera felt very sorry for you, you were just an innocent soul who couldn't do anything about the fate that had befallen you

જ⁀➴Hera grew fond of you and saw you like a daughter

જ⁀➴Hera took out her anger on her husband, how could he take her beloved girl!?

જ⁀➴Hera sees you everywhere, whether under the tree in the Garden of the Gods or in the Great Hall.

જ⁀➴"At least you don't have to put up with my husband anymore, my little girl"

Hermes:

જ⁀➴This boy will hide his sadness behind his usual smile

જ⁀➴He will crack jokes and play pranks on people as usual

જ⁀➴I would say he lives in a world where you are still alive

જ⁀➴He will look at others and think that you are standing right next to him

જ⁀➴He will not accept that you are gone, and the other gods will have to watch the messenger of the gods living in this illusion

જ⁀➴"What do you say Dawling? Oh I love the idea!"

-Peachyprophet

[janiehellion]

𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐟𝐥𝛐𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐖𝛐𝐞𝐬 ⋮ 𝔇𝔞𝔯𝔶𝔩 𝔇𝔦𝔵𝔬𝔫

𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: Daryl Dixon hates you. Or does he? And do you only love the flowers that grow in your own garden, or do you love the wild ones too? Because with eyes watching in the darkness of the night, nothing is ever quite as it seems.

𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: Smut ⋮ Hurt ⋮ Angst ⋮ Voyeurism ⋮ Masturbation ⋮ Exhibitionism ⋮ Dub-Con ⋮ Language ⋮ Cumplay ⋮ Semi-Public

𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 8.000 𝑬𝒓𝒂: The Quarry 𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: Fem!Reader

𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ⋮ 𝑹𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝑮𝒖𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒔

As you walked behind Daryl, your eyes drifted from the road ahead to the ground beside your feet, where something caught your eye and distracted you rather fast from everything else around you—a bunch of wildflowers that had bloomed along the side of the road. They were not only the kind you’ve always loved, but they were also a small reminder of what life really was like not so long ago.

Without a second thought, you decided to step off the path, with your fingers reaching out instinctively to touch the nearest blossom in silent admiration.

"They’re still so beautiful, despite everything," you whispered quietly to yourself, not wanting Daryl to hear what you were saying. "I remember how I always thought these were just pretty-looking weeds as a kid because Mom and Dad always had them everywhere in our garden. God, I miss them so much."

Kneeling down beside the flowers, you allowed yourself a quiet moment of peace, thinking back to a few weeks ago when everything was still normal. To those weekends gardening with your mom while your dad cut the lawn or filmed you and your mother to capture memories for the future. The time when your parents were still alive.

But that short moment of peace was quickly shattered by an all-too-familiar sound that made your heart skip a beat and sent a shiver through your body. Spinning around, your eyes locked on the rotting figure of a walker emerging from behind a tree, and panic flooded your mind.

"Shit!" You screamed, stumbling backward and falling hard onto the ground, and in your desperate attempt to avoid being bitten, you reached for your weapon, only to realize the handle was tangled with the strap of your backpack. Despair washed over you as the walker got closer, its hands reaching out to dig its fingers into your flesh.

Just then, Daryl heard your scream. He spun around, his crossbow aimed at the walker, and in the blink of an eye, the creature dropped dead at your feet with a bolt in its head.

"What in the hell were ya doin'?" Daryl shouted, his face full of anger as he rushed over.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you stumbled to your feet, your voice trembling. "I… I just noticed the flowers! I’ve always liked flowers and these—"

"Flowers? Ya nearly got yerself killed over some damn flowers?" His eyes narrowed in frustration.

Daryl’s voice was bitter, full of anger, as he grabbed your arm and pulled you roughly back onto the road. Before you could react, he stomped his boot into the patch of flowers, grinding them into the dirt in front of your eyes.

"Can't believe ya'd risk yer life for this bullshit!" He said, as he pulled his bolt out of the walker and walked back to you again.

His grip on your arm tightened, and he yanked you forward. "Look at ya," he growled, full of disgust. "Ya think this is some kinda shitty garden party? We're fightin' to survive, and yer out here actin' like a pussy over a bunch of fuckin' flowers! ‘S that what's gonna save us? A fuckin' bouquet?"

His words made you flinch, and you were unable to hold back the tears that had already formed in your eyes. When you looked back up, Daryl's face was only inches from yours.

"Oh, look at ya, so delicate and pure!" He taunted with disdain. "Yeah… Ya gonna stop this shitshow with a bouquet, huh? Gonna wave 'em around and make all the walkers bow down to yer flowery grace? What’s next, princess? A fuckin’ garden gnome to guard the damn camp?"

You tried to steady your voice, fighting back your sobs. "Listen, Daryl… Thank you for saving me, really! But I didn’t mean to cause you any trouble! I just... I just wanted a moment of beauty that reminded me of—"

"A moment of beauty? Ya think yer gonna find some happy endin' in the middle of all this shit? It's like yer livin' in a fuckin' fantasy! Newsflash: This ain’t a damn fairy tale!" Daryl cut you off with a mocking laugh.

He stepped closer, invading your personal space. "Oh, I see. Ya got this big-ass plan, don't ya? Ya gonna sprinkle some petals ‘round and charm all the dead assholes with yer pretty flowers, huh? Hell, why not add a unicorn that shits glitter while yer at it?"

You opened your mouth to protest, but his insults didn't even give you a chance. "Oh, wait, I got it! Ya gonna build a fairyland where everything is perfect and we all live happily ever after! Ya gonna knit a quilt with flowers on it, and everyone will forget 'bout the damn world fallin' apart! That’s yer big-ass plan, ain't it?"

Listening to him, you struggled more and more to hold back your sobs, but you finally found the confidence to respond. "That's not true! And I didn’t say that. I just thought—"

"Thought what?" Daryl interrupted again, his voice almost yelling in anger. "Ya think that’s gonna change anything? Get real! Out here, ya don't get to have yer shitty moments of peace. Ya either get yer head outta yer ass or ya die!"

He shook his head, scoffing at you. "Tell me! What’s next, huh? Ya gonna start singin' lullabies to the walkers? Maybe ya should bake ‘em some cookies and ask ‘em to join the damn camp," he spat out, finally turning away and leaving you standing in the middle of the road, knowing that you’d follow him one way or another.

And you did.

Aside from Daryl's few mutterings of frustration, the walk back to the camp was quiet. He didn’t offer you an apology, nor did he ask why you seemed so fascinated by those wildflowers in the first place. Instead, he simply continued to walk ahead, throwing you angry sidelong glances from time to time, while his annoyed curses and angry mumblings barely reached your ears anymore.

You allowed the minutes to pass, and just as you were beginning to accept being his supply run partner a little bit more, Daryl's voice was heard again. "Quit yer damn whinin'! Pretty flowers ain't gonna keep ya alive!" he said, his anger not yet gone. "All this fuckin' bullshit just makes ya look weak! Ain't nobody got time for that. Ya gotta get that into yer head!"

He looked ahead, and with a sudden, quick move, he lifted his boot and stomped down on another few wildflowers growing along the side of the road. Your jaw dropped in disbelief, and your eyes widened in shock and hurt. The purpose behind it—to obviously hurt you—only made you clench your fists tighter, your nails digging into your palms.

But you stayed silent; the last thing you wanted was to give him any more reason to bully you and to fuel his anger. Instead, you focused on keeping your breathing steady, swallowing down the lump in your throat as you continued to follow behind him.

As you both finally approached the quarry, Daryl’s anger reached its breaking point, and in a rather sudden decision, he stormed off the path, disappearing into the woods without another word and taking the rest of the supplies with him.

"Yeah, yeah, run away, you fucking dickhead," you whispered to yourself before putting the backpack down next to the RV. "What a damn idiot! Just because he’s got a stick up his ass doesn’t mean he is allowed to shit on everything that others care about. He thinks he’s so tough, but he’s just an asshole who’s always acting like he’s the only one who matters around here! And here I was, thinking I might actually like him and have a soft spot for him. Guess I was just kidding myself. What a fucking joke!" You continued and let the sadness come out quietly as you were left standing alone.

"Can’t believe he thinks this is some kind of, I don't know, redneck survival training. ‘Oh, look at me, I’m so tough! I’ll just destroy whatever makes you happy!’ Well, newsflash to you too, Dixon: You’re not the only one who’s capable of surviving! Jesus…"

The sudden sound of footsteps approaching stopped your rant, and you turned to see Dale walking towards you with a look of concern. "Hey there," he said with a smile, taking the backpack into his hands. "You look like you’ve had a rough time out there today. Is everything okay? Where’s Daryl Dixon?"

You hesitated for a moment, the situation that has happened before making it hard for you to find the right words. Finally, you sighed and responded.

"I couldn’t give less of a fuck where that man is right now! I mean, listen, Daryl’s been—well, he’s been a jerk, like always. He got mad about a few pretty flowers that I found. You know, the wild ones that I showed you the other day when you were talking with Shane? Well, Daryl ended up stomping all over them because he had to save me from a walker, since the flowers distracted me and nearly got me killed. And now he’s just gone off into the woods without a word. He even took the rest of the supplies we’ve found with him. Can you believe that, Dale?"

"Oh, yes, I do remember the flowers; very nice to look at. My wife would’ve loved them as well, believe me," Dale’s eyes studied you as he listened to you, trying to understand what had happened, "but I’m sorry to hear about what has happened. Sure, Daryl’s got a lot of—let’s call it rough and tough edges. But I’m sure he’ll be back soon with the supplies; don’t you worry about that."

His words and warm smile helped to calm you down a little. "Yeah, I guess you’re right," you sighed, feeling a little better. "Thanks, Dale. I just needed to let off some steam. And maybe Daryl's right, some of those flowers weren’t meant to survive this cruel world…"

Dale nodded once more but looked slightly concerned because of your answer, though he decided not to address it, nor did he press any further. "Anytime. Now, let’s get these supplies sorted. I bet that Daryl will calm down soon enough as well."

You couldn't help but laugh at the thought. "Yeah, maybe. And pigs might fly too."

Soon enough, you were busy sorting the supplies when you heard footsteps approaching again. This time, it was Daryl who did come back from the woods, but his face showed that he was still annoyed.

"Here," he snapped, tossing his bag of supplies onto the ground. "Forgot to leave 'em here. Don’t expect any flowers or fairy dust."

You looked up from the supplies, sighing loudly. "Yeah, thanks," you answered quietly, trying to keep your voice steady. "I guess it’s good you’re back. The camp needs those supplies."

Daryl’s eyes narrowed, and he crossed his arms over his chest. "Ya know, if ya spent less time daydreamin' and more time focusin' on what’s important, then we wouldn’t have to deal with this shit."

"Is that so?" You shot back, struggling to stay calm. "And what exactly is ‘important’ to you, Daryl? Destroying everything that reminds people of normalcy?"

He snorted at you. "Normalcy? Ain’t no such thing in this world no more. If ya can’t handle that, maybe ya should stay behind."

His words hurt, but you forced yourself not to fuel his anger. "Well, maybe if you weren’t so hell-bent on destroying everything that might still matter to others, you’d see that sometimes people need a bit of hope, however small."

Daryl stared you down. "Hope? Hope won’t keep ya alive. Only havin' a pair of balls and havin’ a clear head will do that. And from where I stand, ya got none of that."

"I guess we’ve all got our own way of coping with this new world," you said quietly, not really knowing what to answer him anymore. 

His eyes studied you. "Copin'? Ya think I’m just ‘copin'’ here? I’m tryna keep us alive, and all ya do is mess 'round with flowers like it’s some kind of goddamn gardenin' hobby."

You took a deep breath. "I’m just trying to hold on to a bit of what makes me human. I know it might seem pointless to you at the moment, but those flowers... they remind me of something good, something that I miss."

Daryl scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Well, good for ya. Maybe ya can save the world with yer damn flowers, while the rest of us are riskin' our asses."

Before you could respond, Andrea approached you, having overheard the conversation. "Hey, is everything alright?" She asked, her eyes looking from you to Daryl.

"Just a little disagreement," you answered, forcing a smile. "Nothing we can’t handle."

Daryl took a step back and shook his head. "Yeah, well, I’m done wastin' my time here. Gonna get some rest."

As he walked away, Andrea rolled her eyes and turned to you with a smile. "Don’t let him get to you. He's an asshole. But you’re doing the right thing by holding on to what makes you feel human. You’ll get used to him eventually."

Later that evening, as the campfire was burning down slowly and the rest of the group went to go to sleep after their meal, you sat quietly on the side, lost in your thoughts. Daryl had withdrawn from the group, sitting alone by a tree as he stared into the flames from afar. Eventually, you stood up and walked off to your tent, but the next morning, a flower appeared by the entrance, carefully placed where it was visible but not too obvious.

"Is he for real?" You said to yourself, not really sure why he'd even continue to make fun of you like this in the first place.

While you were helping with camp chores a short time later, you spotted Jacqui kneeling by the water, washing the clothes. Taking the chance to get some answers, you approached her.

"Hey, Jacqui," you began, trying to sound neutral. "I found this wildflower in front of my tent. Any idea who might be leaving them? I don't know if Andrea told you, but I had a problem with Daryl yesterday, and I thought he left the flower there just to keep on making fun of me."

"Of course Andrea told me, how come you think she wouldn’t? You can’t keep secrets around here!" Jacqui looked up, laughing out loud. "But come on, are you for real? You think it was Daryl Dixon? Really? Come on, that's too funny."

You blinked, taken aback by her reaction. "Wait, you think it’s funny that I’m even considering Daryl after him acting like a total dickhead? I just thought—"

Jacqui laughed again, shaking her head. "Oh, come on. Daryl? Why should he continue to make fun of you like that? I mean, I wouldn’t put it past him to throw a beer can at your head, or leave a skinned squirrel in front of your tent or even under your pillow, but flowers? You're overthinking things. Honestly, I'd bet it's Shane."

You felt a blush rise to your cheeks. "Shane? Seriously? That’s what you think? But Daryl literally bullied me because of them."

Jacqui stood up, stretching her arms. "So, what? I’m just saying that sometimes it’s better not to overthink things, especially when it comes to the Dixon brothers. There's nothing that'd benefit him in mocking you any further. Anyway, I’ve got clothes to get back to." With that, Jacqui wandered off, leaving you confused and a bit embarrassed.

"Hey! It’s not like I expect him to start a flower shop anytime soon, okay? It’s just super weird!" You shouted after her, shaking your head slightly, before you caught sight of Daryl from a distance, kneeling over his crossbow. The sight of him—mumbling to himself and clearly busy with whatever he was doing—irritated you, and you decided it was time to confront him directly.

"Daryl, can we talk for a second?" You finally asked and approached him hesitantly.

He looked up, his expression unreadable. "Whaddaya want, woman?"

You took a deep breath, trying to keep your voice steady despite the frustration you felt about him still being angry with you. "I found this flower this morning. Right by my tent."

"Yeah? And what’s that gotta do with me?" Daryl’s eyes narrowed, his tone defensive.

"I just thought that maybe you’d know something about it. I mean, I didn’t think it was a coincidence, since the flower is like the same from—" You started, but he didn't let you finish.

"Hell, I dunno nothin’ ‘bout those damn flowers. Ya think I’m runnin’ ‘round playin’ flower fairy for ya now or what? It wasn't me. Keep dreamin'," Daryl cut you off, his jaw tightening. 

His voice was harsh, his tone dismissive. "Just stop pissin’ me off; yer just lookin’ too much into shit. It’s just flowers. Quit tryna make somethin’ outta nothin’."

Your frustration was growing, and you took a step closer. "I’m just trying to understand. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to understand something. Look, it doesn’t make sense for this flower to just—"

Before you could finish, Daryl cut you off again. "Hell, just drop it! Got enough problems without ya comin’ at me with this bullshit. Ain’t in the mood for yer crap no more."

Just then, Shane appeared with a wide smile on his face. "Hey there," he said, leaning against a nearby tree. "I couldn’t help but notice you looking a bit stressed. You up for some fishing? Could use some company, if you’re interested, that is."

You glanced between Shane’s big smile and Daryl’s scowling face, and with a small nod, you agreed. "Yeah, that actually sounds nice. I could definitely use a break right now. And it’d be nice to eat some fish every now and then."

Shane’s smile widened. "Perfect! We’ll have a great time, I’m sure of it; even if we don’t catch anything, it’ll still be fun. I’ll go get everything ready and come back to get you when I’m done."

"Why don’t ya both just try to drown while fishin’ then? I’m sure ya’d both do a great job at it," Daryl suddenly mumbled, turning back to his bag.

"Excuse me? What was that? What did you just say?" You asked, trying to keep your voice calm, but your confusion was obvious as you watched Shane walk away. "And what the hell are you even doing there in the first place, Daryl?"

"None of yer damn business," he snapped back at you with annoyance. "Maybe ya should spend less time bein’ a pain in the ass and more time doin’ somethin’ useful. Like catchin’ more than just one damn pitiful fish with that Romeo ya got over there."

You shook your head, feeling your frustration boil over. "You think you’re the only one who cares about survival? We’re all trying to get by, Daryl. But as a team! Together, as a group of survivors! And you? You’re just being an asshole."

Daryl’s gaze hardened. "Oh, that so? And what’s yer excuse for bein’ a pathetic, whiny mess? Thinkin’ yer entitled to shit? Get over yerself."

Before you could respond, Shane reappeared with some of the fishing gear. He then noticed Daryl’s bag next to his crossbow and raised an eyebrow. "Thistles? What the hell are you gonna do with thistles, Dixon? Prick us to death?"

"Guess we’ll be havin’ a fancy-ass thistle salad for dinner. Real gourmet shit," Daryl answered sarcastically. "Ya can eat parts of 'em, if ya so keen on knowin', but I bet ya knew that already, ain’t that so officer fancy-pants?"

Shane’s face turned serious as he glanced between you and Daryl. "Dixon, you got a problem with something? ‘Cause you’re acting like a real jackass for no goddamn reason at all!"

Daryl turned back to his bag. "Nah, just tired of watchin’ ya’ll pretend to be so high and mighty. Don’t need no charity fishin’ trip from ya, Shane."

Shane’s jaw clenched slightly, but he tried to sound calm. "Funny, Daryl, really funny. Maybe you should take a look at yourself before you start a fight you can’t win."

Daryl’s expression grew darker. "Ain’t here to be ya damn buddy, Walsh. Got my own shit to deal with, so why don’t ya just keep yer damn opinions to yerself?"

"Alright, alright. You do you, Dixon," Shane answered, taking a deep breath and forcing a smile as he looked at you again. "Come on, let's go fishing then; I’ll ask Jim to be on the lookout in the meantime."

You watched Shane walk away, then turned back to Daryl, who was now looking at the thistles in his bag.

"Great, really great. That went well," you sighed, shaking your head, but Daryl didn’t respond and instead continued to fumble with the thistles. You soon walked away, joining Shane by the water. 

"Let’s get this set up," he said, handing you a fishing rod. "We might as well make the best of it."

As the time went by, the conversation drifted to other topics. Shane talked about his past life, even sharing police stories that made you smile despite yourself.

"Thanks for this," you soon said. "It’s nice to get away from the group a little, even if it isn’t far, and just... be."

Shane nodded, focusing on his line. "Yeah, I figured you could use a break. Daryl’s got a way of being a pain in the ass."

"I guess that’s one way to put it," you laughed back. “But he isn’t the only one around who isn’t very great to get along with. The real pain in the ass around here is Ed, and that’s a fact.”

“Ed, yeah, don’t remind me. But you do realize that talking about Ed would be a pain in the ass just as much, don’t you think?” He smirked, casting his line again. "But speaking of Dixon, you know, it’s actually funny. Because I’ve seen that asshole sneaking around your tent more than once. Creepy as hell if you ask me."

You blinked at him in surprise. "Wait, wait, wait... What are you talking about? What do you mean? Daryl Dixon? What? When?"

Shane shrugged casually. "Well, I’ve already seen him lurking around your tent when you first got here weeks ago, like he’s some kind of damn stalker. Even seen him hide behind some of the cars at night. Also quite funny, because Jim was the one who caught him near the RV first, since he’s more or less the mechanic around here. Did you know that being an auto mechanic was Jim’s job? Who would’ve guessed?"

You frowned at him, processing this new information. "Shane, could you please stop trying to change the damn topic for a moment? This isn’t about Jim right now! Just tell me if you’re serious about Daryl sneaking around my tent!"

"Relax, relax! But yeah," Shane laughed and shook his head. "I mean, Daryl’s always been a bit of a freak, but that... that was something else. Fucking creep."

You bit your lip, feeling confused. "I don’t know, Shane. I mean, sure, he’s rough around the edges, like Dale pointed out before too, but..."

"But? But what?" Shane asked, raising an eyebrow. 

You hesitated, then sighed. "It’s a little stupid, okay? But when I first got here, I kind of had a fleeting thing for him. But not for long; I mean, I didn’t know anybody around here; you were all just strangers, so of course I didn’t know what he’s actually like."

Shane’s face quickly showed disbelief and a bit of anger. "You’re shitting me, right? That piece of shit who literally told us to drown? You had a crush on him?"

You shook your head, feeling quite embarrassed. "No, listen, it wasn’t exactly a crush! Please, don't call it a crush, okay? I simply thought there was more to him, you know? Maybe under all that anger, there’s someone who… cares."

Shane shook his head, his jaw clenched so tight that you could see his muscles twitch while he was gritting his teeth. "You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. That hillbilly dipshit? He doesn’t care about anyone but himself, just like his brother Merle. And now he’s got you thinking he’s some kind of misunderstood hero? That piece of shit couldn’t even fit into the anti-hero category if he wanted to! I already told Lori and Carol to keep Carl and Sophia away from him and his brother! Because they’re both a bad influence!"

"It’s not like that, Shane! I know he’s very difficult, but..." You started, but he cut you off once more.

"But nothing!" Shane snapped. "God, you sound just like Dale! Please now, just listen to me. You deserve better than that. Someone who actually gives a damn about you. Not some freaking weirdo who creeps around your tent at night. I know that I should’ve told you sooner, and I’m sorry. But you think Daryl’s going to change just because Merle’s probably dead? Nah. He’s just going to keep treating you and all of us like shit. But I’m here, and I actually care about you and the rest of us. And I did care right from the start."

You shook your head, feeling overwhelmed by his words. "Shane, please, this really is turning into an awkward conversation right now. I just need some time to think and not a motivational coach with a shotgun and a fishing rod."

"Fine. But just remember what I said. Daryl’s not the guy you think he is." He leaned back, crossing his arms. "And you know what? The two of you are a perfect pair of fuckin’ clichés. The tough redneck guy and the naive dreamer princess. It’s pathetic."

You hesitated, unsure of how to continue the conversation. "Okay, okay, I got it! Stop! I meant to ask you a different question anyway! About a flower I found by my tent. Did you leave it there for me?"

Shane shook his head. "Me? Leaving you a flower? No. Don’t have time for that. I have to keep this group safe, after all."

You sighed, feeling a bit of relief. "I know, I know, it's just that... Jacqui thought it might've been you. Guess she was wrong."

Shane shrugged nonchalantly, not wanting to talk any further. "Yeah, well, let’s just finish up here and head back."

A short time later, you and Shane packed up your gear and headed back to the camp, where the rest of the group, apart from Daryl, was already sitting around the campfire and talking. about the usual things, all the while you couldn’t stop thinking about what Shane had told you as you stared into the fire.

And as the night finally fell over the Atlanta camp, Daryl found himself in the shadows and lost in thought. He had withdrawn from the group throughout the rest of the day, thinking about how Shane and your fishing trip had annoyed him and left him feeling more than just pissed.

He moved quietly through the trees, his steps almost making little to no sound while his mind was full of conflicting thoughts, each one more chaotic than the last. He was still angry with himself over everything that had happened—his rage towards you, Shane’s arrogant attitude, and his own pushed-away emotions that he couldn't really ignore.

Standing by the edge of your tent, he looked around to make sure he was alone and out of sight before he crouched down, pulling out a small bundle from his pocket—another wildflower, the exact kind that you liked so much.

"Fuckin' ridiculous," he mumbled to himself and snorted. "Here I am, sneakin' 'round like some kind of goddamn lunatic."

He put it gently on the ground, just near the entrance of your tent, where you had to notice it one way or another. His fingers moved along the petals of the flower as if it could somehow help him feel better with his guilt. "Goddamn it, Daryl," he whispered to himself. "Ya really fucked it all up, like ya always do. Stompin' on 'em flowers like a fuckin' idiot. What were ya even thinkin'?"

His eyes narrowed as he remembered how he had responded and how he had used his insults and rage to try to push you away. "Ya didn’t mean it," he grumbled, shaking his head. "Ya were just so pissed off. Shane’s up her ass all day, and ya had to be the one who’s had to do somethin'. Hell, she's gonna think it was him now anyway, with the way he’s been actin' 'round her, that's for damn sure."

He stood up, avoiding stepping on the flower. "But ya know what? It ain’t 'bout him. 'S 'bout yerself, ya fuckin' idiot. Ya can’t just keep watchin' her and expectin' her to see ya for the piece of shit ya really are."

He looked around when he heard a noise, seeing you coming from a distance, and quickly moved to hide behind a nearby tree. His heart was racing in his chest; adrenaline and shame were rushing through his body, but he couldn’t let you see him; he couldn’t let you know that he was here, after all.

Daryl crouched down low, pressing his back against the bark of the tree he was leaning against. "Every damn night," he whispered quietly, "watchin’ her shadow. Shit, she doesn’t know. Fuckin’ hell, if she knew... I’m a goddamn creep. But I can’t stop. I just—I need to see her. Need to know she’s there."

His eyes followed you as you got closer, but he didn’t move. He was observing you and watching to see if you would notice the flower immediately, or if you wouldn’t until the next morning.

"She’s gotta know it’s me," Daryl thought, his mind racing and his body beginning to sweat all of a sudden. "She’s suspicious already. Can’t let her know the real reason why. She’d hate me for it."

His knuckles went white as he clenched his fists tightly. "I’m a fuckin’ idiot. That’s what I am. Tryin’ to make it right with damn flowers, but I’m still the asshole who’s watchin’ her like a damn perv. She’s got no idea," he whispered to himself again. "No fuckin’ clue what’s really goin’ on. Hell, if anyone 'round here knew, they’d run me outta camp. Can’t have that. Don’t want her to know; don’t want anyone to know."

"Why’d ya let things go this far?" He continued to tell himself. "Why’d ya let yerself get so fuckin' close to her? Ya think she’s gonna understand why yer such a fuckin' creep? Fuck, think again."

As you opened your tent, Daryl's eyes were watching you with nervousness. Even though he knew it was wrong, he was unable to accept the fact that he had been watching you most of the time at night, unable to take his eyes off your tent.

"Ain't gonna make excuses," he muttered. "Been an asshole, and I know it. Been watchin' her—sometimes even more than I should. Fuckin' hate myself for it. Every damn time I see her, she reminds me that I’m a damn bastard, and I can’t stand it."

Thoughts of how he had treated you kept coming back again and again to his mind. "I act like I don’t give a shit, but I do. Hell, I care more than I wanna admit. Maybe that’s why I’ve been so goddamn hard on her. Dunno. Maybe I thought it’d keep me from feelin'... this way."

Daryl stayed right where he was, watching you leave your tent open as you eventually got inside. "Fuck," he whispered to himself. "This ain't right. She deserves better than this. Deserves someone who’s not a fuckin' creep. Can’t help it. I keep comin' back here, leavin' these stupid fuckin' flowers, hopin' she might see some part of me that’s not completely fucked up."

He sighed, feeling his thoughts pressing down on him. "Yer a mess, Dixon. And ya know it. Yer leavin' flowers to try to make up for yer own damn behavior, and it ain't ever gonna be enough."

Upon entering your tent, you did notice the flower that was lying by the entrance. In fact, the flower was too familiar, and the thought of Daryl lurking around nearby made you shiver, but you didn’t acknowledge the flower directly. Rather, you purposefully chose to ignore it because Shane's remarks regarding Daryl had made you feel a little uneasy, which you could not quite shake, but it also somehow excited you to no end.

"Alright, let’s make this good, and let’s see if he really is sneaking around here," you then murmured to yourself with a smirk on your lips as you thought about your plan. "I’m gonna give him a show he won’t forget anytime soon."

You began to undress slowly, your fingers sliding over your skin as you glanced at the open gap of the tent, a deliberate choice to keep it ajar.

"Is this what you want, Daryl?" You whispered to yourself as you pulled off your shirt and slid your jeans down. "Do you want to see me like this?"

With every piece of clothing that you let fall to the ground, the blush on your cheeks turned redder. The thought of him possibly watching you from the shadows, all hidden and quiet, made you shiver with excitement and nervousness, because of the other dangers that might be hidden in the shadows. “Don’t think about anything else right now; I’m safe. I’m safe.”

Your fingers fumbled with the hooks of your bra, and you let it fall from your shoulders before you squeezed your breasts with your hands, the feeling of your fingertips brushing over your hardening nipples making you moan. "Look at me," you murmured, "see how I’m touching myself, how I’m getting so fucking wet because of you right now."

Your hand slid down your stomach, your fingers sliding into your panties, with the wetness of your pussy making you gasp as you started to rub your clit in slow circles. "You like this, don’t you? Watching me at night, knowing I’m thinking of you?"

You soon pulled your panties down your legs and tossed them aside, showing yourself off completely before you laid down and spread your legs, giving a full view of your wet pussy. With two fingers, you traced the outer folds before slipping them inside, letting out a quiet moan. "I know you’re out there," you whispered, "watching every fucking move I make."

As you began to fuck yourself slowly, your other hand continued to pinch and tease your nipples. "I can almost feel your eyes on me," you mumbled, "watching as I fuck myself. Is it turning you on, Daryl? I bet you're already so fucking hard."

You added another finger inside, curling them slightly to stretch yourself more and tease your G-spot with each thrust. "I bet you’re dying to feel what this is like," you taunted quietly, "to be so so fucking deep inside me right here, right now."

Your fingers moved faster, your hips moving in time with the thrusts of your fingers, and you were already getting closer to the edge just by thinking about the fact that Daryl was probably watching you. "I bet you’re imagining how fucking tight I’d be around you," you moaned. "I know you’re just as fucking turned on as I am."

Among the trees, Daryl remained hidden in the shadows. His eyes were locked on you, unable to look away even as his heart pounded violently in his chest. The way your fingers moved over your breasts, the playful, almost desperate way you touched your hard nipples—it drove him wild, and the image of you parting your pussy and pushing your fingers into yourself was nearly unbearable. Every little movement you made seemed to burn itself into his mind.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ," he mumbled while his gaze shifted a bit as he attempted to stand up from his position without making a sound. He forced himself to remain motionless, but his hand went almost automatically to his zipper.

The simple sight of you, all naked, completely defenseless, and so vulnerable, was making him lose his mind. He could see how your body tensed and arched with every touch, and his eyes tracked every movement of your fingers as they slid in and out of your pussy.

"Fuck, not again; why’m I doin' this?" Daryl grumbled to himself, trying to ignore the throbbing of his cock inside his pants. "This ain’t right. She’s right there, and I’m just—fuck!"

He glanced down at his own body, his cock pushing hard against his pants. It wasn't easy to ignore the pulsing need that was building up inside him—a need that seemed to only grow with every quiet moan you let out. His heart was racing, and he could feel the sweat starting to run down his forehead.

Daryl’s fingers fumbled with the zipper of his pants; he was trying to calm himself down at first, but the sight of you getting yourself off was making it nearly impossible to think straight. "Jesus fuckin' Christ," he muttered again, struggling to keep his breathing steady. "Ya can’t just give in. Not yet. Ya gotta keep control."

He watched you spread your legs wider, your fingers moving faster now, and it was all he could do to keep himself from making any noise. His eyes locked onto the way your body responded—how your hips bucked with each thrust of your fingers.

"Look at her. She’s so fuckin' beautiful," Daryl let out quietly. "So damn hot, and here I am, just watchin'. Like some sick fuckin' perv."

With a quiet, frustrated growl, he tried to regain control of himself, his hands clenching more tightly. Even though his cock was begging for attention, he was unable to let himself go.

"Keep it together, Dixon," he told himself, his voice trembling. "Yer not gonna just—give in. Not yet. Not like this. She’s... she’s right there. Goddamn it! Fuck!"

But Daryl's control was breaking fast, each breath that he took only making it harder to keep his impulses in check, and it was pushing him past the point of no return. The temptation was just too great, and he couldn't control himself any longer. His hands, which had been clenched tightly into fists, now finally moved to undo the zipper of his pants.

His cock sprang free, the sight of it being so hard making him shudder, and the moment his hand wrapped around it, he let out a quiet groan.

"Goddamn it," he mumbled, his voice full of frustration and lust as he started to stroke himself slowly. "She's gonna fuckin' kill me."

He couldn’t help but imagine your hands being on him—almost in the same way that you were touching yourself. He could hear your every moan, every breath, every whimper, and it only made him grip his cock tighter, his strokes becoming faster and more needy.

"I bet ya like that, don’t ya?" He grumbled to himself. "I bet ya fuckin' know I’m here."

It was impossible for him to ignore how badly he wanted to be the one touching you, to be the one making you sigh and moan for him.

"Jesus," he panted out and gasped. "Ya just keep fuckin' doin’ that, don’t ya, princess? Fuckin' hell..."

Struggling to remain silent, his free hand felt for the tree next to him, and he pressed it against the bark to steady himself. Though he was getting close to the edge and the tip of his cock was coated with pre-cum, he was determined not to cum just yet.

"Damn it, Dixon," he hissed at himself. "Look at ya, gettin' off to this all over again. Yer a fuckin' mess. Fuckin' pathetic."

There was still a part of him that wanted to stop, and he battled the shame and guilt that was building up and rising within him. But as your moans grew slightly louder and as you suddenly whispered his name into the darkness, it only pushed him further into his own desperate need.

"Hell’s she sayin'?" Daryl mumbled to himself, his eyes narrowing as he tried to focus and concentrate on your voice. "Shit, she’s sayin' my fuckin' name..."

The sound of his name on your lips, even if it was only a silent whisper, made his cock twitch and pulse, and his strokes became more urgent with the intense need to finally cum.

"Fuckin' hell," he growled, his breathing coming out even more uneven. "She's gonna make me lose my shit. Just... just keep talkin', princess."

The way you were saying his name, the thought of you knowing he was watching, made it impossible for him to stay still. Finally, he couldn’t resist any longer. He stepped closer, his throbbing cock in hand, and let out a growl to make you notice him as he slipped inside your tent. "Ya really thought ya could just tease me like this?"

With your fingers still buried deep inside of you, your eyes snapped open. "Daryl?" Even though you knew that he was watching you, you let out a gasp, and your voice trembled slightly.

"Yeah," he said, taking another step closer. There was something else that turned him on even more than just the shock he could see in your eyes. "Thought ya could put on a private show for me, huh?"

You swallowed hard, your eyes never leaving his as he stood directly over you, his cock still hard and pulsing with every stroke of his hand. "A show?" You asked, your voice sounding a little shaky.

"Damn right. A show," he answered with a small smirk. "With me seein’ everythin'. Couldn’t stay away."

You pulled your fingers out of your pussy and tried to stand up, but Daryl pushed you back down with one of his boots on your shoulder. "Stay where ya are," he growled. "Don’t ya dare stop."

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence as you looked up at him, your heart racing. The realization about the rawness of the moment hit you, and you nodded slowly, your fingers sliding back into your pussy as you lay back down in your tent. Your eyes were locked onto his, and he could see the mixed feelings of shock, excitement, and lust in your gaze.

Daryl’s hand soon moved in rhythm with yours again, his strokes becoming faster and more urgent as he watched you. The sight of you, so shameless and wet for him, made him lose himself even more. "Ya know," he said, his voice still low and rough. "Ain't thought I’d see this day. With yer all spread out like this, knowin' I’m here, watchin' ya fuckin’ yerself. 'S a damn mindfuck."

You moaned in response, your fingers working in and out of your pussy with an increasing speed of your thrusts. "And you think you can just walk in here?" You taunted back and teased him. "You think you’re gonna get what you want, Dixon?"

Daryl’s eyes never left yours, his cock throbbing with need. "Ain't just here for the damn show," he growled. "I’m here to fuckin' claim ya. Ya got that?"

Your eyes widened, and you barely held back a loud moan, your fingers pushing deeper into your pussy. "And what makes you think I’ll just let you?" You challenged him back, your eyes wandering from his cock to his face again.

"Oh, I think ya fuckin' will," Daryl said, his voice full of confidence. "'Cause I fuckin' want to. And it’s my turn to take what I want."

Every movement, every quiet moan, and every word you both whispered to each other heightened the lust and need for the both of you. Daryl’s strokes on his cock became more frantic, and he could feel his orgasm building, the pressure in his balls growing with every stroke, but he was determined to hold off until he had fully taken in the sight of you.

"Gonna make sure ya know who’s watchin'," Daryl said quietly. "Gonna leave my mark on ya."

He positioned himself above you, and without saying another word, he pointed his cock at you, making sure that his cum would land where he wanted it to.

"I ain't done," he growled, his eyes locked on you. "Not yet."

He took another step closer, his hand still jerking his throbbing shaft, while his other hand reached out, grabbing a handful of your hair and pulling you up slightly, just enough to make you look at him with wide eyes.

"Do ya want me to finish like this?" He mumbled, his voice already hoarse. "Or do ya want me to make a fuckin' mess 'round here in yer tent?"

You didn’t have a chance to answer before he let go of your hair and moved his cock closer to your body again. He had seen enough, felt enough—he was on the edge and couldn’t hold it back any longer. With a low groan, he started to jerk himself off harder and faster, his eyes never leaving yours, and without warning, he came hard, his hips bucking wildly and his cum shooting out, landing across your body, most of it on your breasts and chin.

"Fuck," he muttered, still stroking his cock, but slowing down. "Look at ya. Just a fuckin' mess now."

You lay there, slowly pulling your fingers out of your pussy, your body covered with his cum. "You know," you suddenly started, your voice quiet but teasing. "You might be the first wildflower that might leave a thorn in my side."

A smirk formed itself on Daryl's lips due to the mention of the flowers, but it was quickly replaced by a look of embarrassment, and he shifted uncomfortably as he put his cock back into his pants. "Shut ya damn mouth, woman."

Without a word, he stepped forward, grabbed your head roughly by your hair, and yanked you up to meet his eyes. You couldn’t help but whimper as he was staring at you up and down, so dangerously close.

Daryl grinned at the noise you made and grabbed your neck with his other hand, the thumb going to your chin and gathering the rest of his cum that was slowly sliding down on it.

"Eat," he insisted, but before you could answer or protest in any way, he put his thumb against your lips and pushed it inside your mouth, waiting for you to suck it off.

And just as he pulled it out again, his mouth came crashing down on yours in a rough and primal kiss. It was demanding, and his teeth moved against your skin as he went down to the side of your jaw, sucking on every bit of flesh on his way down to your neck before biting down hard into it, leaving his mark.

His gaze then fell to your fingers, still glistening with the juices of your pussy, as he held you in a tight grip to keep you from falling due to your trembling legs. Slowly, teasingly, he reached out and brought your fingers to his mouth. His tongue slid over your skin, licking and sucking them off intensely, devouring every bit of what was left of you on them.

Daryl enjoyed the taste of you, and his eyes never left yours as he pulled back a little, his hand roughly grabbing your chin. "Don’t ya fuckin' forget this," he growled, letting go of you and watching as you stumbled back onto the ground in front of him before he finally turned to leave. "Yer mine in ways ya don’t even understand yet."

[the-original-skipps]

|| A Heart Left Behind. || Wind Breaker Reactions ||

*smacks lips* it was getting a little too fluffy around here lol

please read PART 1 first before this one!

CW: angst. mentions of violence, injury, blood, suicide, hallucinations. character death.

: Sakura Haruka. Suo Hayato. Nirei Akihito. Umemiya Hajime. Kaji Ren. Endo Yamato.

"We are sorry to inform you, but the patient has unfortunately passed away."

❥ Sakura could feel his entire world crumbling, with each fragment a piece of you. The voices of the doctor, the people around him fading away like distant noise. His vision blurs, confused; Sakura reaches to lightly brush over his surprisingly wet cheek. Oh, they're tears. The doctor could only look at the poor boy sympathetically, before being jerked forward in surprise. As tears flow endlessly, Sakura grabs a fist full of the doctor's pristine white coat. He shouts in confusion and anger - unbelieving of the words just uttered. You couldn't possibly be gone. You promised that you'd take him to the aquarium next week, you promised him you'd let him taste the cookies you tried to bake. Despite all the promises made you’re gone now; forever out of his reach and it was all his fault. With realization, regrets start bubbling within him as his arms fall limply to his side. Thinking about all the times he could have spent with you. He should have hugged you more, told you that you were truly beautiful and kissed you each time like it was going to be the last. It should have been him. Just as you’ve given him a reason to live, now you’ve gone and taken it with you.

“T-Tell me, how am I supposed to live w-without you...?”

❥ Suo remembers the vivid moment, when the doctor told him the news that changed everything. He remembers smiling and thanking the doctor for trying their best, even though his heart felt like it had just been ripped out and his mind sank into darkness. He also remembers when he stood amongst a sea of blood and bodies as the darkness fully consumed him. Sakura and Nirei look onwards with shock and despair, powerless in trying to stop him. The ones who've hurt you in a state of near death but why didn't he feel satisfied? Only when Nirei screamed that you'd never be happy seeing him like this, does the realization hit. When you've left, you've left a hole in his chest where his heart was supposed to be that could never be filled again. Now, he stands in front of your grave - a bouquet of flowers he arranged personally for you. A bouquet of purple lilies, anemones and white chrysanthemums which symbolizes grief and eternal love. He promises for as long as he still lives, he'll atone for the fact he couldn't save you. When he sees you again, does he still deserve to be hugged like you used to?

"Until we meet again, my love."

❥ Nirei doesn't remember the last time he left his room. A room filled with mountains of rubbish, discarded ramen cups, empty water bottles and other miscellaneous trash and he sits in the middle of it. His precious notebook is forgotten beneath everything. Ever since you died, Nirei couldn't find the passion nor the will to live. Suo, Sakura and all his classmates tried their best to pull him back up but it was all worthless. If it isn't your hand that pulls him back up. Your memory haunts him in this empty room, with each one bringing him to tears - his chest unbearably tight. He rocks himself from side to side as tears flood his eyes, clutching his head in his hands whispering assurances to himself. The weight of your death prevented him from rising, after all it was his fault it happened. Sometimes he swears he could hear you in this very room, belittling him and spitting insults. Most of all blaming him for the reason behind your death. It's unbearable, when will it stop? A thought flashes in his mind that has him briefly smiling. Maybe there is a solution to forever escape from the pain.

"I-If I die, will you forgive me...?"

❥ Umemiya smiles as he looks down at his work. A patch of broccolis growing big and green, he reaches over and lightly touches them. Imagine the look of excitement you'd have at seeing your favorite vegetables. Until a grim thought crosses his mind that sets a frown on his face. You’ve passed away. The memory has his fists clenched and eyes burning in trying to hold back tears that threaten to spill. Only when he hears Hiragi clear his throat from behind him, does Umemiya snap out of his thoughts. Pulling himself together, he brightly smiles at his trusted friend - thanking him for coming but what he says next has Hiragi in utter shock. With his eyes fixed on your favorite vegetables and a sad smile on his face. Umemiya states that he will no longer hold the position of Bofurin's leader and the position will be passed onto Hiragi instead. Shocked and enraged Hiragi pulls Umemiya forward with a fist full of his white shirt, demanding he take back his words but the longer Hiragi stares at his friend he realizes. That the once bright eyes no longer shined, only reflecting emptiness back to him.

"I couldn't protect (Y/N), I can longer be trusted to protect everyone."

❥ Kaji stands, leaning casually against a chain fence with his usual headphones to his ears, a song playing - a blank stare on his face. Enomoto comes running panting with Kusumi following close behind. Enomoto's eyes widen in shock at the scene in front of him. His class leader sitting, his fists bloodied - a spread of unconscious bodies surrounding him. Kaji doesn't even look at his friends, ignoring them as he properly stands - brushing past them to walk away until Enomoto stops him with a hand to his shoulder. As the hand touches Kaji's shoulder, a switch happens - he angrily swats his friend's hand away. Enomoto and Kusumi stood in shock, the look on Kaji's face was the same face he used to have years ago. His usual blue eyes swirling with sadness and rage. A deep emptiness infixed within him. Ever since you died, he no longer knew he was or who to be anymore. Your guiding hand no longer extended towards him. Enomoto tries talk some sense into his friend that what he was doing was wrong but Kaji answers back with only shouts colored in anger. The sudden movement knocks Kaji's headphones from his head. A familiar song played from the device, Enomoto and Kasumi knew it well. It was your favorite song.

"Don't you get it?! T-This is the only way I can feel something!"

❥ Endo stares up into the bright full moon, as he sits on a swing. The deserted playground he's at is quiet, with only the whispers of the wind. He looks to a swing beside him. He can see the ghost of your figure sitting on it, asking him if he could push you. At the vision, a smile creeps upon Endo's face - you look so happy and beautiful calling out to him. Unconsciously, he reaches a hand out towards you, only to brush against nothing. The image of you disappearing like sand to the wind. It often happens, a memory of you attached to everything around him - that's how much he sees you even when you’re gone. He believes that he sees you but only to meet with disappointment and a blank space where you used to be. On nights where he's left to his own thoughts, the image of you becomes clearer as if you were really there. He swears you spoke to him with your usual sweet voice and he happily replied back. He doesn't want to accept that you're gone, his entire being rejecting the notion but deep down inside he knows that you’re truly gone from this world. Even if he knows that they're only illusions created by his own mind, it's the only way he won't succumb to the loneliness of your absence. Maybe one day, when he reaches out to you he’ll actually get to touch your soft skin again. Until then he’ll keep reaching out to you.

"When will you come to see me again, (Y/N)?"

[fishnapple]

How to love yourself better? A request letter from yourself. (Channelled message)

This is a general reading meant for multiple people. Take only what resonates and leave out the rest.

Your feedback is much appreciated. If you find the reading resonated with you, leave a comment, I’d love to know 🎐

About me | Masterpost

Book a reading with me - KO-FI (Read this post : personal reading)

1. White

Dear myself,

If I could light a fire right now, I could, just to see if that fire can compete with my light, our light. And yet I got a feeling that fire will burn brighter than us, just because it had someone to start it. But ours didn't. We stowed our fire away, our light, for fear of burning the eyes of the world? Or for fear of being engulfed in the sea of darkness outside?

Have you ever seen a solar eclipse? People gathered to watch it, a brief moment of the sun being eaten. A brief moment. Imagine how the world would be if that brief moment turned into a very long moment, an eternal one? Panic, fear, despair. We have prolonged our solar eclipse for far too long, let the Sun has its shine. Does it sound arrogant when I talk of us as the Sun? No, you should get used to it. To be the light, the be seen. Even when the Sun seems like a solitary existence on the sky, it's not, so are we.

I wanted to tell you many beautiful words, give you praises and a pat on the head. Sounds embarrassing, right? We should learn to do that more often. And then practice it with other people too, we all need it sometimes, a lot of times.

Do you know what will happen when we turn the anger on ourselves? Somehow, it will ricochet inside us and finally shoot out at other people. It's painful, for us and for them. Let's hold it in our hands, watch it breathe and stroke it gently, find where does it hurt and tend to it, then poof- it's gone. You catch anger not by throwing it around and putting it in a cage but let it heal and fly away on its own.

I'm sure that sometimes you will find yourself drowning in life, in other people's water. Losing yourself could be your worst nightmare. But you will never lose me. It's odd how we're surrounded by people but feel like we are alone in our struggle. Where did all the people go? Are they also drowning like us? In a different sea? I hope that all the seas are connected to each other so we can all find others to swim with us.

Till the next sun rise, yourself.

2. Pink

Oh, how I want to just throw away everything and run barefoot on the sand. To lie face up, watching the clouds passing by for hours. To paint the wall bright pink and yellow (this combination might hurt your eyes if you stare too long, though). But we're not a kid anymore, or so people have told us, much like how we've told ourselves, convinced ourselves to behave.

It's fascinating to watch the process of our resistance to what is taught to us. Why do we resist it so much? It feels like being gravely offended. We have our principles, and now we have to listen to others telling us what is right? What is wrong? Let me tell you, in a small whisper, it's actually nice to listen. Just listening, not obeying. It will feel like swallowing a rock. Maybe we could learn from the chickens a little, metaphorically. They swallow small rocks to aid in healthy digestion. So let's swallow some of the hard lessons.

You always like to think in concrete fashion. You try to touch your thoughts with your own hands and knead them, mould them into whatever you want. And when you're dropped into a relationship with someone, you find yourself lost that ability. It's all a jumble mess. You find your hands reaching out, grasping for something. How about the other person? Are you afraid that you will lose yourself if you hold on to them? It's fine, you won't. It's just an outdated belief that you've held on for far too long.

As we were talking about swallowing, you may want to watch what you're swallowing into your stomach, literally. Watch what you eat! Don't make yourself, ourselves suffer by bringing unhealthy things into our body. We may want to live long, you know.

Hey, if you find a dance class is too embarrassing, how about we turn off the light and dance with each other in the middle of the night. Nobody will know, but we will feel good (I'm not trying to be a flirt with myself here)

Your best friend, love.

3. Red

Make me a cup of tea, please.

Let's have a chat, just us, lying around lazily, sipping our favourite tea, imagining some weird scenarios to entertain us, playing some puzzle.

I don't have much to tell you because we talk to each other every day and I know you always try to be better for us. I love you and I'm proud of you. Let's be vain and give ourselves applause every day. Make it a pinky promise.

A reminder when you're feeling sluggish and slow, we are going to exactly where we need to be. You are guided and protected.

Keep on shining and be the little kid that runs around in the rain.

I love it when you're running wild, letting yourself, me, free, splashing colours everywhere. I just want to grab other people's hands and drag them to the dance. I love it when you're laughing, loudly, even better when you jolted others around you, oh, their surprised look, priceless.

Just be sure to take care of your body. Don't over tasking them. Work hard, play hard, but rest hard also.

Have you been thinking about going on a trip somewhere? No? Then, allow me to make a gentle request. Let me put the idea in your head. Go on, go to wherever you're thinking, there might be a surprise waiting for us, *hint: it will make our heart flutter*.

Let's make it a ritual to go on a trip every year. Let's give our mind and spirit a makeover. Dust off any tangled mess we have and prepare a space for new things to come into. I'm so excited.

It's got me thinking lately, there's this small blinking light in the back of our mind, sometimes I can see it, sometimes I can't. I want to find out what it is. It's like a signal, trying to reach us, can you feel it? Sometimes, there's this odd feeling swelling inside that you can't put your hand on and naming it. I think if we can sit still, quiet, in the dark, we could see it better. It's guiding us. To where? I got a feeling that it's somewhere deep, somewhere with a treasure, waiting for us. If we can uncover it, it will be the greatest gift that the universe has ever given us. So let's go and find it.

Love, myself.

4. Green

I have some news for you. Brace yourself for changes. They're coming, very fast, very soon. Sit yourself tight. I don't want to give spoilers, but I guess we will receive some sudden confessions or offers. What you will do with those confessions is completely your choice. You don't have to feel guilty if you don't return their feelings, my dear.

I think the way the universe is sending us this kind of surprise is telling us to reconsider our 'single' thinking mode. We have stood alone, strong and independent for so long, I think it actually makes us a little too comfortable in being alone that the thought of getting into a connection with someone can be daunting. Will we lose our freedom? What if we are dependent on them? This time, the universe is saying: 'you and your worries will not make a good journey together, break up with those worries, here, I will throw in some opportunities for you to practice '.

If you don't want romantic connection at the moment, fine, different types of connections will come. No matter what, the universe is determined to get us involved with other people. It's for our own good. I have to admit that it's hard. It's not easy to change our way of thinking and believing. So surprises will be needed.

When opportunities come, the gate is opened, we just need to receive them. Walking through the gate will feel like walking out of a confinement into the wild, lively world outside. We will be propelled into a new path that we hadn't even considered in the past. Beware of what you said in the past about how you don't want to do something, you can't imagine yourself doing something. Well, guess what, we are going to do just that, joke on us.

So, in the meantime, even if you're resisting, it's fine. Just take care of yourself, of us. Obsessive worrying can sadden our body.

Something is going away, giving space to a new energy coming in. This new energy will be softer, more loving. The harshness of the past will go away soon. Trust me.

Love, Your companion.

[urprettylildoe]

ℒ𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓁ℯ 𝓅ℯ𝒶𝓇𝓁 2

Yandere!prince x mermaid!reader

Part 1

ꨄ︎ Perhaps one shouldn't fear monsters of the sea, but the bewitching human in front of you who gets whatever he wants.

Your eyes squinted open at the light filtering through the large window, before halting.

Why isn't your sister barging in as usual? Why does the bed feel different?

Most importantly.

Why aren't you underwater?

A gasp escaped you as you realised.

There was only one answer to your question: Alaric. The foolish human who lured you in with kind words.

Anger bubbled inside of you, replacing any confusion. You were going to drown him for doing this to you.

Used to the flexibility you had in the water, you leapt out of the covers, before the inevitable force of gravity slammed you down against the hard floor.

A whimper escaped your lips as you rubbed your side. Your gaze drifted downwards, expecting the glistening scales on your tail.

Your body froze all over, forgetting how to move as the world faded into a dull hum, ringing echoing in your ears. Bile crept up your throat as colour drained from your face.

Two legs.

Two human legs.

This can't be happening.

You're crazy.

Any minute now, you'll wake up from this nightmare. Pressing your nails into the palms of your shaking hands, you felt a sting bfore blood trickled down your arms.

But you're still there.

With that, a scream ripped from your throat, echoing throughout the castle.

Several footsteps were heard, before humans in the same uniform came in, concerned expressions etched on their faces.

"D-don't touch me, y-you monsters!" You wailed as they tried to approach, "I said don't!"

The door to the room was then slammed open, hitting an anxious servant beside it and succesfully knocking them out.

It was Alaric, his face matching those other disgusting humans. Seeing him made you spiral further into panic.

Bloodied hands cover your face as you hyperventilated, sobbing. Maybe that way, everyting wpuld disappear and things would be back to normal.

The authorative prince barked, "What's wrong? Why is she crying?" His gaze softened as it landed on your legs, finally realising the situation.

He sighed, "Leave."

With that, they all obediently scurried away not wanting to upset his majesty, one dragging the unconscious servant with them. The door clicked shut.

Painful sobs wretched out of your throat as everything became too much, eyes burning as the waterfall of tears never stopped.

Large hands closed around yours as he crouched, peeling them away from your red face, cooing: "My jewel, my lovely pearl. Don't cry."

That just made you cry even more as you met his gentle stare. You couldn't even form words.

"You're safe here," he smiled, stroking your soft hair. "Away from all the lurking monsters in the ocean." He was the monster.

Blubbering, you manage to ask, "W-why did you-" hic "-do this?"

"Little pearl," he started. "We are meant to be, but there was no guarantee you wouldn't swim away and I'd lose you to the cruel world forever. Though I will miss your cute tail, this is for the best. I hired the best sorcerer to ensure the process went smoothly."

A shiver ran down your spine at his words. This guy was crazy, and worst of all, he had the upper hand in this situation.

"Besides, don't you like your new, pretty legs?" His large hand slid up to your calf, carresing it. "I, for one, think they are absolutely beautiful."

"I hate you!" You bawled in despair.

A hum escaped his lips, "no, you don't."

"Y-yes, I do!" You protest.

He smiles fomdly, almost as if you're a child throwing a tantrum, "Of course you don't. We're friends, remember? Oh, sorry. Wrong choice of words..."

Alaric's ring finger wags in your face, "bethrothed."

Your gaze snapped to your own in horror, seeing the matching diamon ring, and tears continue trickling down your cheeks as your sobs progressively got louder with your growing panic. He brings you to his chest, letting you release your emotions as he sways you both, lips pressed against your forehead.

You manage to land a few punches against his chest, but that was about it. He thought it was like a kitten using its tiny paws.

When you slightly calmed down, you were left with a throbbing headache and the occasional sniffle.

He pulled away, looking down at you with a grin, "that's a lot more better, lovely." His arms hooked themselves underneath your legs as he carried you back to bed.

In a daze, you stared at the two feet in front of you, moving them around awkwardly. This was your reality now.

Your delighted human fiancé grabbed your hands. He tsked at the blood on your palms, "what have you done to your little hands?" Alaric kissed the wounds tenderly that it would've almost been comforting.

Almost.

♡

"You're doing so well," he crooned gently as his arm pulled you to his side by the waist. Your own was hooked over his shoulder for support.

It's been a few days since your kidnap.

Currently, you were trying to take a walk in the royal gardens with your human limbs. The blue dress the maids put you in flowed around with each shaky step.

How did humans used these things?

If it were up to you, you wouldn't even be here. The only reason you're being so willing is because you barely even know places on land, and you weren't even good at walking yet, let alone escape a royal with over a hundred guards roaming around inside and outside the palace.

Alaric watched your expression as you tried to take another step, your brows pulled together and your lips pouted. It was the epitome of adorable.

However, you stumbled forward and nearly fell down if it weren't for him to catch you.

He exhales upon seeing your defeated expression, "Don't worry, little pearl, you'll get the hang of it soon." His lips pressed against your temple soothingly as he guided onto a chair. Yet, even as you sat down, his touch lingered.

Contemplating, you watch your feet as you move rhem, still unable to process the new change. In all truth, you wanted to scream and cry altogether, but you couldn't. You were mentally drained.

"My darling," he smiled. "Since we are bethrothed now, shouldn't it be better for us to celebrate?"

"Celebrate?" You repeated.

"Yes, a celebration. A ball to show off my fiancé."

Dread filled your stomach, "b-but I can't even walk, not even stand up straight without falling."

A chuckle escaped him, "don't you worry about that." His hand guided your head to his shoulder, and you didn't have a choice but to rest it there. It seemed like he had a plan in mind.

Seeing you so docile, so scared made Alaric triumphant. Sure, if you had a choice, you wouldn't be like this but he'll take what you offer him. After all, it was so cute how you clung to him and wrapped your dainty hands around his bicep.

Don't fret.

You'll soon be doing it willingly.

♡

𝓎ℴ𝓊𝓇𝓈 𝓉𝓇𝓊𝓁𝓎

@yourprettylildoe

[xueyidweams]

you’re a memokeeper, a pretty strong one at that. you’ve had your eye on this pretty but cunning gambler for a while; fate always seemed to bring you two to the same place. you see him drinking away at a bar one day, you’ve been visiting Penacony for some time and know that the bar plays tango every week on this day so— why not use it as an opportunity to get into that pretty brain of his?

You put on your sultry voice, your body language relaxed and elegant as aventurine eyes you up after your invite for a dance. he accepted, took your hand and let you whisk him away to the dance floor. whether because he thinks of this as networking or simple pleasure of having one’s body close to another is of no matter to you. you give him a small smile as you slide your hands up and down his arms slowly, sensually. there’s no denying that, you aren’t trying to, how can anyone resist those eyes anyways? you make sure that every touch, every brush of your bodies is deliberate and with a purpose. push into his mind, you think as you dip him and he looks into your eyes. tipsy but not drunk and clearly enjoying this if him bouncing back to you every time you twirl him away is any sign.

his eyes are truly beautiful, yet terrifying. just from one look at his eyes there has been a tug at your heart, its painful, its of love and its of struggle and its strong yet oh so weak. You twirl him and dip him, your fingers curling around his waist, faces too close for this to be anything but flirting and chasing.

and you finally do it, you truly look into his eyes as you two are twirling each other in a warm yet unfamiliar way.

at first your heart is warm, your— no his mother’s voice filling your ears. her scent is so comforting, so familiar, so strange and so distant that you don’t even know if you can call her your mother. your heart screams with grief, tears itself apart with guilt and your soul bears its fangs with vengeance as you’re in a deserted place… your sister is crying and you don’t know what’s going on but it hurts so much to see tears on her face..

aventurine has taken the lead by now, your slightly limp movements and glazed eyes telling him all he needs to know and yet, he doesn’t hide his wounds and cuts. he lets you see him bare, he lets you look at his disgusting self— a gambler damned to always win, a kid with no one to embrace in the thick and suffocating darkness. he lets you see it, he lets you look and he doesn’t know why. maybe the alcohol. maybe.

your heart hurts so much, your soul wails and your teeth tear and bite as you kill others just like you… they had dreams they had families and now they had no one— just like you. and yet you had to kill them, if you want to make it out of here alive and burn everyone who has led you to this moment— you had to live and step on people just like you. the emotions are too much to bear, it should be a memokeeper’s dinner but it’s filled with such despair that your brain refuses to take it and you’re breathlessly pushed back to reality, the song on its final note, aventurine’s eyes looking deep into yours. your tears filled with pain that you have not experienced, filled with vengeance and anger that burns and yet it is not yours. and yet it hurts like it is.

he sees your tear stained face, pulls you up from the dip and you feel the brush of his finger and the coolness of his rings on your burning skin, and when he speaks his voice is filled with such mundane sadness that it tears you apart, “so what do you think, memokeeper?”

[eremikayearner]

bonus and reward ‹𝟹 oikawa tooru

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ in which, seijoh’s volleyball team captain decides to be your tutor. to motivate you, he proposes a little game of bonus and reward.

ׂ╰┈➤ tutor!oikawa x fem reader, teeniest tiniest bit suggestive, oikawa being the biggest flirt ever, wc : 4.0k

banner cred : @saklejin on pinterest :3

⋆˚꩜｡ when you’d asked the king of flirting and flattery himself to tutor you, you could hardly be surprised about the bonuses and rewards he had in mind for you. really, did you ever doubt him for a moment?

what you liked about tutoring with oikawa is that he was gentle. the way he explained equations to you with a kind, reassuring smile and a comforting hand on your lower back, you could realy immerse yourself in what you were learning. well, besides the swarm of butterflies in your stomach. nevermind that, oikawa was understanding as well. every question you answered wrong, he only brushed off your anger with easy laughter, leaning closer and encouraging you to try again while pointing out where exactly you could improve. it was calming. if you didn’t count the rapid beat of your heart.

so now, here you were ; in your home and seating at the round table with your notes and equations splayed out in front of you. all with oikawa at your side, his ever delightful presence managing to calm your study related nerves and evoke madness and disarray in your body and mind.

maybe working with oikawa wasn’t the smartest decision of your life.

after all, his presence was a little bit too delightful. from his sweet and cool scent, to his beautiful understanding brown eyes behind his glasses. it was in those seemingly innocent touches where desire bloomed to life. it was the way your heart fluttered in your chest at the sight of his pretty smile and sweet laughter. the way you had to avoid looking at him when his hair fell over his eyes so perfectly. maybe he was more distracting than he was helpful.

but you would never admit that. never to him. and you could never give up tutoring with him just because of some maybe small crush on him. he had proved himself too helpful and valuable to lose ; in fact your grades had skyrocketed since asking for his help.

you held your head in your hands, another question wrong.

“i don’t know what’s wrong with me.” your tone of despair only evoked a small smile from oikawa.

“nothing’s wrong with you.” he reassured, placing a warm strong hand on your shoulder.

you looked to the pretty boy next to you, your hands slowly dropping back to the table. with his soft brunette locks and deep brown eyes and his angel-carved face in his perfect school uniform with his cute glasses, he looked awfully beautiful.

“your thought process is perfect,” he said, using his finger to point out how you’d answered the equation. “you’re just prone to making small mistakes.” he returned his attention to you, brown eyes devouring your quickly beating heart. “i think you just need a little motivation.”

“motivation?” you asked incredulously, eyes widening in surprise.

“you’ve been stuck here doing equations countless times for the last four hours.” he stated, leaning back in his chair and gesturing to the pages scattered on the table that were full of your handwriting and previous answered questions. he looked to you pointedly, then you watched as his eyes darkened and his lips curved into a smirk. his arm snaked around your chair, bringing himself closer to you – close enough that merely inches separated you. “its obvious. you need motivation.”

flustered, you turned your head away from him, desperate to quiet down the swarm of butterflies in your abdomen. “oh really?” you asked, lifting your arm and resting your face in your palm, looking at him. “and what kind of motivation do you suggest?”

he looked at you like a cat playing with a mouse.

“well none other than the oldest trick in the book.”

“and that is?”

your heart hammered in your chest as you watched the gentle oikawa you were used to, taint with shades of allure and charm – shades of a boy who knew how to capture hearts. and you had a heart, didn’t you?

he tilted his head just slightly, his hair falling over his eyes perfectly, then gave you the most sweet and mocking smile. “a little bit of bonus and reward.”

“bonus and reward?” you echoed, lifting your head from your hands.

“bonus : you can ask me any question you want – that’s if you get a question right.” he smirked. “reward is at the end – if you get all ten questions right of course. i promise.”

maybe he was right. maybe a little motivation was all you needed.

your eyebrows furrowed and you playfully glared at him. “guess i’ll be finding out what that reward is, oikawa.”

“atta girl.” he grinned, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. your cue to get to work.

you picked your pen back up and focused on the next math equation. even with oikawa’s eyes on your body and nothing but your breathing breaking the silence that followed your concentration, you managed to complete the question. sliding over the completed question to oikawa, he examined your answer, then looked up at you with a smile.

looking pleased with himself, he returned to leaning back in his chair and nodded to you. “go ahead, y/n. question’s yours to ask.”

you studied him. the gorgeous boy looked back at you, captain of aoba johsai’s formidable volleyball club, currently sitting in your home as he had many times before : tutoring you. it felt like a dream.

“why did you agree to tutor me?” the words tumbled out of your lips before you could even think about the consequence of speaking them aloud.

oikawa’s eyes widened for a moment, as if he hadn’t expected such a direct and personal question from you. then they settled back on you, intense and alluring. “you’re intriguing, y/n. i wanted to get to know you better.” he confessed. then you watched as his smile turned mischievous. “and be your prince charming in shining armour of course.”

you scoffed, but that didn’t erase the fast beat of your heart against your ribcage.

you returned your eyes to your work, feeling the full weight of oikawa’s attention on you once more. no matter, you worked diligently through the question, checking over each step of your answer twice. all while desire and want began to slowly infiltrate your body, heart and mind.

you pushed the paper to oikawa again, holding your breath. oikawa took the paper, went through the steps of your answer, his eyes narrowing for a moment, before he gave the paper back to you with a smile.

“well done. ask away.”

you looked away for a moment, nipping on your lower lip as you contemplated your next words. then you met his dreamy chocolate gaze and spoke. “do you feel like you’ve gotten to know me better?”

a moment passed before he answered. “not as well as i’d like.”

what could he possibly mean by that?

you pulled out another piece of paper, already looking at the next equation. but you could feel the soft rosy hue colouring your cheeks – and oikawa’s eyes on your face. your next question swirled in your mind as you checked your answer, careful to correct a mistake you’d found. finally, you allowed oikawa to check your answer over once again.

he lifted his head, tantalizing eyes finding yours as his gorgeous soft smile melted your heart. it was the pride and adoration in his eyes at your question that stole the breath from your lungs.

“you’re making me blush.” he leaned closer to you, your heart leaping in your chest. “wanna ask me questions that bad?”

“shut up.” you muttered, cursing yourself for the way your eyes darted down at his playful tease and the way your cheeks flushed. your next question left your lips. “what’s your favourite thing you’ve learned about me?

when you looked at oikawa now, he looked different. his features had softened and he looked at you now as if you were a lone flower amidst a grey field. his voice was soft, caught on a breath. “you blush when you laugh.”

there were boys you’d had crushes on before. boys who’d pursued you. boys you’d pursued. yet there was not one single boy who had ever made you feel as oikawa tooru did in this very moment. as if you were not merely a girl, but an angel to be admired. it was in those chocolate brown eyes that you saw a boy witnessing a person so intricately beautiful, all he could do was admire. in the reflection of his glasses you could see your parted glossed lips and wide eyes, flustered and blushing and heart fluttering, the recipient of oikawa’s soft adoration.

no. of course not! clearly this small insignificant crush was muddling your brain. yet the tension and unspoken words drew you closer and closer together like an invisible string.

so once again, you delved back into your work and you just couldn’t help but notice that oikawa seemed to be getting closer and closer to you with every question you asked. whether it was the undeniable tension in the air or the need to know more, you pulled him closer and closer to you.

eager to ask the next question, your mind raced against your heart, warring against your hidden feelings and the steps of the equation, working together for a common goal : complete the question correctly.

this time, when you handed your paper to him, you dared to glance at him – catching a glimpse of his flushed pink cheeks and soft smile as he nipped at his lower lip, reading over your paper. he lifted his eyes to meet yours, placing the paper in front of you with a crooked smile.

“next question, y/n.”

you averted your eyes from him, becoming too aware of the ever closing space between the two of you, and the tension clouding the air. to mask your nerves, you picked up your pen and leaned on your palm as you doodled on your paper. “oikawa, do you like tutoring me?”

he smiled to himself as he looked down at you. maybe you believed you were secretive, but oikawa had come to know the signs of you being flustered all too well.

you looked up from your palm to meet his gaze, finding a tenderness within them you would’ve never imagined seeing. “if it means being with you, i don't see why i wouldn’t love it.”

now he’d really done it. your heart was going to beat out of your chest. your head swam with all of your wildest forbidden fantasies of your stupid crush as your blood coursed with pure longing.

were you imagining things? could it be possible that oikawa tooru was hinting at…?

“you’re flattering me, oikawa.” you managed, dipping your head back down to your work to hide your very obvious blush.

he tilted his head at you and grinned that perfect shoujo boy grin. “i try to.”

damn you, oikawa.

the next question was more complicated and you let out a breath as you contemplated your next step. oikawa clicked his tongue, a teasing smile on his face. “having trouble?”

“no.”

he leaned closer to you, plucking your pen from your fingers and dangling it in front of your face. you went to grab it, only bringing yourself closer to the pretty boy in front of you as he dangled the pen further away. you were face to face with him now, just merely inches between you, if you leaned just a little bit closer you could almost…

“you sure you don’t want even a little help?” he asked playfully, his glasses slipping down his nose adorably. “i won’t even make you beg for it.”

“bet you’d like to see me beg.” the words had left your lips before you could even stop them.

something like desire coloured his eyes as his canines flashed in a dashing grin. “maybe i would.”

you finally snatched your pen back, tension tightening between the two of you as you took in another breath, getting to work on your next question immediately. you desperately attempted to calm the racing of your heart and drown out the echo of his bold words from your head. but how could you? how could you when he was looking at you like he yearned for you.

no. focus, y/n.

the question this time was in fact more difficult. you worked through the equation twice, checked over your answer twice, biting down on your lower lip nervously. like hell you would ever want to admit this, but you were desperate to ask him more. maybe you were just motivated by oikawa’s mysterious responses or by the invisible string between you two that seemed to only pull him closer and closer to you.

finally, you handed the paper to him, holding your breath as his eyes scanned the paper. he pushed his glasses up his nose before handing the paper back to you with an encouraging smile. “guess you didn’t need my help after all.” the smallest of compliments with the softest of smiles, your cheeks heated.

you knew this next question would be crossing some sort of unspoken line. you knew it was risky. you knew you might make a fool of yourself. you knew. and you did it anyways.

“are you this flirty with everyone or is it just with me?”

oikawa looked at you with pretty brown eyes, his soft lips lifted in the smallest of smirks. for a moment, you thought he would shut you down immediately, then his expression changed. his eyes slowly drifted down your body then back up again, sending your heart racing in your chest. you could feel every lingering look on each curve of yours. then, he met your eyes again, his tantalizing mouth forming a teasing smirk. “just with you.”

you nodded, attempting to hide the furious blush in your cheeks and the butterflies that erupted in your stomach. you willed your heart to stop racing as you took back your paper and picked your pen back up and looked at the next question.

holy shit, you were a mess. your mind raced as you mulled over his words in your mind over and over again, your heart seeming to beat faster and faster with every breath you took.

you couldn’t be making this up. was oikawa really hinting at something? was there a possibility that your secret feelings were returned?

you felt those chocolate eyes on you, watching you the way a cat looks at a mouse, and you could feel it. that invisible string, once again, pulling him closer to you. you possessed a magnetism it seemed that oikawa couldn’t resist.

you began your next question, your hand trembling nervously as you tried to ignore the delicious weight of oikawa’s gaze settled on you. if you weren’t motivated before, you certainly were now. especially with the way he was looking at you and right after what he just said.

hastily, you handed him your finished paper, too eager to check over. shit. this might cost you.

the process was always the same. hand him the paper. watch as he scans your work with calculating brown eyes. feel the nerves in your body electrify with anticipation. hold your breath and feel the unfaltering quickened beat of your heart. feel your stomach flip as he finally looks at you.

then there’s that charming smile. the one that tells you you’ve succeeded.

you let out a breath as your body relaxed, oikawa taking note of this with an amused smile and soft tender chocolate eyes that sent your whole body on a delicious edge. it was utterly intoxicating and entirely unravelling.

your voice came out softer than you intended, leaning just a bit closer to him. it was all too much for you. the closeness of his body to yours. the weight of his mysterious gaze. the promise of touch if only one of you moved even a little bit closer. and you, the unknowing vixen, were enticing the boy before you. “why do you keep looking at me like that?”

And damn him. because the moment he tilted his head just slightly to the right, his voice so impossibly low and playful. “you’re nice to look at.”

your eyes widened just slightly as butterflies flooded your abdomen. “are you calling me pretty?”

oikawa pulled away once more, leaving you aching for his closeness once more, sliding your paper to you. “i’ll answer that if you manage to get this next question right.”

maybe you looked desperate. maybe you looked like one of his lovesick fangirls. maybe you looked absolutely insane. none of that mattered to you as of this moment. you worked through this next word problem carefully, a madwoman perfecting her craft, gripping your pen tight enough to break it and nipping your lower lip hard enough to split it. none of that mattered at all. what mattered was that oikawa was really dangling something over your head and stupidly enough, it mattered to you. mattered enough to you to make you work for it. mattered enough because you needed to know. did he really call you pretty?

you handed him the paper, perhaps a little bit over-eagerly. but you didn’t care.

once more, he looked over your paper, watched his lips lift, and faced him as he turned his attention to you. no matter how many times this process had happened, the nervous butterflies and the rush of your blood in your veins would never cease.

he tilted his head, his glasses slipping adorably down his nose. “surely you understand that a pretty girl like you is distracting.”

your lips parted in surprise, your heart fluttering in your chest as warmth flooded your chest. he did think you were pretty. distracting at that. and he was flirting. definitely flirting.

that invisible string between you pulled you closer, your eyes flitting from his eyes to his lips and back. “you’re pretty distracting yourself, oikawa.”

“tooru.” oikawa corrected, his eyes softening. “call me, tooru.”

before you could even open your mouth to respond, he had already handed your paper back to you. “next question, y/n.”

you didn't think you’d ever tired of hearing your name on his tongue. there were times where you longed to hear him say your name after a long school day with the promise of tutoring in the evening. you wondered if oikawa – tooru – yearned to hear your name from your lips as you did for him.

doing the word problems was like clockwork. so orderly and so focused that before you even knew it, you had handed back your paper to the pretty boy beside you to check over your equation once more. of course, he handed you back your paper wordlessly : your signal to ask a new question.

“what’s your type?”

tooru’s eyes fell to your lips, then raised to meet your eyes. he really was a flirt, even without opening his mouth. it was the way he looked at you ; an angel he admired, and a mouse he wished to toy with. he lifted a calloused hand to your face, long and slender fingers just brushing your hair behind your ear. “pretty girls who want my help for math tutoring.”

it was anticipation. the anticipation of something building up. you felt it in the core of your being. you felt it in your chest. in your heart. in every single cell and fibre of your body. this torturous anticipation. and you knew he felt it too.

you couldn't act. you wouldn't. you shouldn't.

and you didn’t. like the good girl you were, you turned away from him (shyly, though you would never admit that), and began working on one of your last word problems. being one of your last word problems, your last questions had to be worth it. the tension was unbearable, and no matter what, that invisible string had only pulled you two closer and closer together, and now you really needed to know. you needed to know if he felt that invisible string too.

your fingers trembled with your nerves as you handed the paper to him

you watched with a rapid heart as his eyes narrowed for a moment on your answer, before pushing his glasses up his nose and placing the paper down and nodding to you. the question’s yours.

you placed your hands on the edge of your seat, clinging on to something solid to remind you that you weren’t dreaming. no dream you’d ever had could replicate the pure longing and want in his eyes and features. nothing could replicate the real feeling of being on the edge of his affection.

then the question came. it tumbled from your lips, spilling out before you could even stop it. “do you like me, tooru?”

his lips lifted upwards at your words, and holy shit you could’ve died. he was quiet for a moment and all you could do was hold your breath to ease yourself. then he spoke, all pretty eyes, gorgeous lips, perfect hair and kissable lips tearing you apart delightfully and piecing you back together. “i can help you figure it out if you get this last question right. i’m a man of my word.”

only when you took your paper back and lifted your pen could you finally breathe. even then, this felt truly unbearable. tooru remained incredibly close to you, so close that you could smell his intoxicating scent and practically feel his body on yours. the weight of his desire and longing crushed your lungs and your heart under his stare and you were nearly certain he could break you with his silence. that invisible string was drawn taut between the two of you and it being severed completely relied on this one last equation.

you inhaled shakily as your eyes frantically scanned your work, breaking apart your answer and checking over any kind of mistake you could have possibly made. a misplaced decimal, a wrong integer, a miscalculated number, anything that could possibly result in your failure. then finally, you handed your paper to him for the last time, praying to any angel or god that could hear you to let this be correct.

your trembling fingers brushed his as he took your paper into his hands. for the last time, he checked over your work. his eyes scanned from left to right, your equation and answer reflected in his glasses. you held your breath for the last time.

then he moved. it was so gentle. it was so quick. in a moment, his hand had gone to cup your cheek, his body oh so close to yours. your breath hitched as he moved his face closer to yours with his eyes locked on yours. “i promised you’d get your reward.” he murmured, his thumb softly brushing against your cheekbone as butterflies exploded in your lower abdomen. “promises are promises.”

“what are you doing, tooru?” you managed to say breathlessly, your eyes darting longingly and nervously to his lips then back to those pretty warm eyes.

he looked at you like he craved you. an indescribable need only you could satiate. and damn him, he looked so impossibly beautiful. “for such a smart girl you sure are stupid.”

then he pressed his lips to yours.

oh.

oh.

your heart fluttered in your chest and clouds pleasantly fogged your mind as your hand lifted into his hair, tugging gently and pulling him closer. this, this was everything and anything you had ever wanted. tooru tasted like sweetness, tea and wishes. his lips were so impossibly soft and his touch was so gentle. and he was kissing you. kissing you.

he parted your mouth with his lips, deepening the kiss and unravelling you bit by bit. it was sweet, it was tender, it was intimate, it was needy, it was so purely tooru, your head, heart and mind could hardly believe the dream that was unfolding.

when he pulled away from your lips finally, a string of saliva connecting your lips, panting softly, his lips glossed, and holding your face up to meet his eyes — he really did look beautiful.

“how was that for a little bonus and reward?” he rasped with a sly grin.

“oh, shut up.” you muttered with a pretty smile as your lips met again, and finally, that invisible string intertwined.

[randomshyperson]

I'll Crawl Home To Her - Wanda Maximoff Oneshots

Summary: A rewrite of the fight scene in WandaVision, with a less aggressive but equally painful discussion. 

Warnings: canon-typical Westview angst, talking about magical submission and free will, established relationship, some grief mentions, rough kissing just because I can, love confessions/reaffirmations | Words: 1.644k

A/N-> I'm just rewriting loose scenes from WandaVison, none of which are really going to end up in anything bigger. But I hope it's a decent read. 

General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad

-&-

“It’s not often that you get a dog and bury them the same day.”

To your line, Wanda could have chosen to mumble in agreement. She could have said she was sorry, or she could have chosen to remain silent.

Instead, she chooses sarcasm, as if she had a good idea of how ridiculous everything was starting to get around that town.

“Well, life moves pretty fast out in the suburbs.”

You end up sighing, able to feel the anger slowly building up in you. Wanda continues to put toys away, and you decide to wipe your hands on the nearest dishcloth before turning to your wife.

"I spoke to Norm this morning." You start with a serious look on your face, and Wanda, oh your beautiful, stubborn wife, makes a mocking expression. You don't understand why she's acting this way. "He told me things that really frightened me, Wanda."

It was her turn to take a deep breath, the confidence in her expression wavering for a second. There was only one balcony between the two of you, but somehow the emotional distance was immeasurably greater.

Wanda looks you in the eye. "What's that supposed to mean, darling?"

“You tell me.”  You hit back without hesitation. But what you get from Wanda is a tired sigh, falsely innocent.

"I didn't know it was charades night again." She continues to mock. 

You can't remember if Wanda was ever cruel, but it's a fact that you can't remember anything that happened before Westview.

"I got scared because he was scared, Wanda!" You insist, approaching the counter to lean on one hand, while the other gestures your despair. "It was like a different person, a real, suppressed personality crying out to be released. It was accidental, of course, to discover this. But I'm not an idiot, Wanda. I can see what you're doing. The things that are changing around us every time something gets out of your control. And I don't understand why, and you won't talk to me, and I'm so scared!"

The tears in your eyes match hers. "Stop." She pleads earnestly, but you shake your head.

"You don't want this." You say.

Despite the emotion in her eyes, and the thick tears, Wanda gives a short, ironic laugh, her head tilting slightly. "Don't I?"

"If you did, I wouldn't know. I wouldn't be able to see, to question.” You sigh.”You’ve always been so... extraordinary." Her expression suddenly flinches at the compliment. "Your abilities, your power, I can't tell what happened before this place, but I know about now. There's not a trace of doubt in my mind about you, about how magnificently powerful I've always perceived you to be. Not even about how much I love and trust you." Wanda swallows dryly at your words, but you give a sad sigh. "Then I don't understand why you keep letting me see the flaws. If you're going to lie to me, leave me in the dark. Because I think I'm losing my mind little by little. I can't ignore the suffering of those people, and I can't ignore the uncertainty that grows in my chest every second. I can't remember anything, Wanda. I see those pictures on our walls, those fabricated memories, and nothing reaches me. I can't even recall if I had any kind of family before this place."

Wanda comes around the counter with a certain desperation, her hands reaching for your face. "You have a family. Me and the boys, why can't that be enough?"

Your hands reach for hers. "It's not that, sweetheart. Our family is perfect. This life is the closest to heaven I could get. But I can't be at peace with it at the cost of other people's suffering. I can't ignore their pain."

"I'll help you think of something else." She responds with a nod, pulling your face in to kiss you firmly.

Kissing Wanda has always been intoxicating, a sensation that's easy to get lost in. But fresh in your mind is your coworker, terrified and begging you to get away from this place. Get away from your wife.

You pull away, breaking the kiss and ignoring the way your whole body protests. Wanda is equally out of breath, but the gleam in her eyes hides a deep irritation.

"Wanda, I-

"Save it." She interrupts, turning her back on you. You catch a glimpse of a new form of anger and hurt in her eyes at being rejected. You sigh impatiently, following her instantly. 

"You're not going to run away from this conversation, Wanda, I need to know what's going on in this place!" You practically beg, yelling at her back because Wanda just keeps walking towards the stairs. You huff angrily and teleport immediately into her path. She jumps slightly in fright, grimacing with impatience and taking two steps backward, away from the steps as you insist; "Please. Talk to me."

"There's nothing to say if you don't believe me when I tell you there's nothing wrong." But you shake your head at the words, one hand pulling your hair back. Wanda chuckles humorlessly.  "See, you already have an opinion on the subject. On me. I'm already the villain in your story, darling, so why don't you keep digging behind my back and end this whole thing?"

She mentions going upstairs again, but you stand in her way, one hand pulling her face towards yours. The kiss is more intense than the one in the kitchen, heated enough for Wanda to gasp into your mouth.

She's ready to reciprocate with the same eagerness when you break it, the hand on her cheek caressing her skin.

"Because I love you, Wanda Maximoff." You whisper against her lips, and it's not just the words, but the devotion in your gaze that makes Wanda's legs wobble. You offer her a small smile, an air of lost battle in your expression. "There is no part of me that would plan and act against you. Even here, with the truth scratching at the walls, where I could if I wanted to access the suffering of these people, I wouldn't turn against you. I can only beg for a little mercy, my love. Take the pain away from me, the doubt. I will be loyal and complicit in any of your desires and decisions."

Wanda sobs, hugging you before you can say anything. You can't remember anything that came before, but she can, as clearly as if she were there. And Wanda loved every trace of your old self as much as she loves this Westview version, willing to do anything she asks. It's not so different from the person she lost, with the most striking exception that makes it clear in that moment, that nothing could ever replace the real you. 

You would have taken Wanda out of that fantasy. For better or worse, even if she hated you afterward, even if she never forgave you, you wouldn't let her cross lines through grief, you wouldn't let her lose herself again. After all, that's what you swore to do after witnessing first-hand all the guilt she carried for Ultron's madness and the accident in Lagos. Your true version would never let her drown in sorrow and hurt people again.

But the Westview version, so sweet and devoted, would stroke her back and say the same thing you always used to say, even if now you can't remember it.

"I'm sorry if I made you cry, princess, I never meant to. Look at me so I can bring your smile back."

Wanda holds on a little tighter, tears staining your blouse. The vast majority of the times she had heard this phrase, it had been at much less dramatic moments. While she had a passion for sitcoms and things that made her laugh, you liked more emotional movies that could make you cry. And every time you had a movie session, you would tell her that, easily achieving your goal of putting a smile on your girlfriend's face. But there were also times when the situations were dramatic - a poorly planned workout where Wanda ended up hurting you and tears of guilt escaped her and you tried to make her feel better by saying that same phrase. Or when you had a fight and it got a bit out of hand, and you started your apologies that way.

Or when Thanos took you from her, and Wanda had to hear it twice because of a time stone.

She doesn't want to hear it for a third occasion. 

You're ready to say something, maybe apologize, when Wanda breaks the hug. But she holds your cheeks and presses her mouth to yours. Slowly, allowing you to taste even the saltiness of her tears. There's a shaky sigh escaping from between your lips as she breaks away again, but your affected gaze changes to a curious one as red irises stare back at you.

"I'll make it better." She whispers, nodding slightly. You swallow dry, closing your eyes and resting your forehead against hers.

The only thing you whisper is exactly what makes her hesitate. "I trust you, Wanda."

She ignores the internal conflict and lifts one of her hands to stroke the back of your neck. It must be easy, especially within Hex, to change your mind. To make you no longer question.

You repeat that you love her, and Wanda brings trembling fingers to your forehead. 

She suddenly becomes very aware that consciously, she could never do that to you. She would rather you found out everything and hated her than take away your free will. To turn you into another puppet.

She sighs shakily, ready to say she'll put an end to this whole place when the doorbell rings.

Nothing could prepare her for seeing her twin brother again, but that's another story. Besides, not that Wanda has any idea, far away from there, a fallen Avenger is being stitched back together while calling her name in their sleep.

[jd-loves-fiction]

hello yes i’m crawling back to request the fairest queen Vil with betrayal and a twisted ending 😈 please take this as a free shot to emotionally damage me deeply

💐im merging two requests on this one since they're similar ;) I dont wanna be that person but uuuhh Vil fans dont like happiness very much, do they?😅 (these were the only Vil requests for the event)

❧ Bitterly beautiful

❧ ‘Heed not his words! He cannot be trusted! Kill him when you get the chance, or else you’ll be–’ The man’s last words haunt you in the days that come, ringing like a disembodied echo. A man wasted his last breath telling you that and that knowledge just won't leave you. That and the look on his face when the ice finally got to his lungs.

But Vil wouldn’t do that… he wouldn't. All he’s been is kind to you, maybe a little cagey at times but who could blame him?

He’d never put you in ice, you’re sure of it.

As for others…

The palace seems colder than usual, but Vil changes nothing about his routine. He must not know you’ve been down to the dungeon – he must not know that you know.

The edge of every knife looks sharper than usual, every shadow darker, every rustle and crack louder. Why are you even considering it? All he's done is help you, take you in when you needed it most and yet you're thinking about forsaking all of that over the words of a man you've never met?

A man who died in front of you wasting the last of his life to warn you. A man killed by one of Vil’s bitterly beautiful spells.

Can you truly be certain that he wouldn't do that to you? That you'd never anger him that much? That he cares for you too much to ever do that? Can you?

“You look quite distracted. You'll hurt yourself that way.” As if his word is prophecy, the knife you're using to cook vegetables for dinner slides over the very tip of your finger in surprise.

You curse softly, inspecting the wound before Vil takes your hand instead, looking at it closely, “You've been quite out of sorts lately.”

The question is implied in his tone and you struggle to keep your heart rate level, “It must be the lack of s-sunlight.”

He only hums in response, eyes still unsettlingly locked on your injury as blood begins beading from the wound. Why is he still staring? Does he know? Does he know?

Vil draws your finger even closer, touching the wound to his lips gingerly and your heart can't help but stutter despite what you now know from the unquestionable beauty of the man before you. Your finger feels slightly numb at the spot where he kissed.

“Vil…” you whisper, drawing his eye. He parts from your skin to look down at you with a serious expression – sweat beads at your hairline.

He grasps your chin while moving closer; your eyes flutter at the proximity. How could you ever doubt him? This wonderful beautiful man, who treats you like the finest jewelry, how could you?

“You look nervous, dear. Did you do something… wrong?”

No. No no nononono…

He knows.

Before you can defend yourself, he seals his lips over yours passionately, as if it’s last time he’ll get the chance.

“I’m sorry, my dear. It’s for your own protection.” Oh how the despair in despair in his beautiful voice breaks your heart. You want so desperately to protest, to tell him he has it all wrong, that everything can be as it's always been but your mouth refuses to cooperate.

Your mouth feels as numb as your finger had… his lipstick. His new lipstick which smells faintly of poppy whatever else he uses for his potions.

“I'd never do to you what I did to them. You are too valuable for ice, my dear.” Your legs give out as he speaks, senses fading gradually.

The man was right. You want to kick and scream and ask him why, but you're fading fast, vision going dark and hearing dull.

Vil's cold hand lifts your chin to look you in your heavy eyes, “This will keep you safe. I can't have you turning on me like they did.”

The world goes dark quicker than you'd hoped and sleep takes you gently, carefully, never to let you go from its grasp ever again.

[bunnysnuff]

Stiff.

Pairing: Elphaba Thropp x reader, Galinda Upland x reader (platonic), Elphaba Thropp x Galinda Upland (platonic).

Trigger warning: a little sad ig

Request.

Note: I re wrote this scene to make it shorter :) and because I couldn’t remember the scene.. sooooo🤍

The Emerald City was everything Glinda had described—a shimmering jewel at the heart of Oz. Green glass towers spiraled into the sky, lights cast emerald reflections across the streets, and music seemed to float through the air like magic. But you couldn’t enjoy the spectacle. Something about the city felt cold and hollow, as though it were trying too hard to distract from its darker truths.

You glanced at Elphaba, walking beside you, her shoulders stiff and her brow furrowed. Her eyes scanned the crowds, and you could see the distrust etched into her features. She hadn’t said much since your group had entered the city, but you could feel the weight of her apprehension.

On the other side of you, Glinda hummed happily, practically bouncing with excitement. “Isn’t it marvelous?” she gushed, gesturing at a sparkling shop window. “Oh, look! That dress would be perfect for me!”

Elphaba shot her a withering look. “We’re not here to shop, Glinda.”

“Oh, don’t be so dour,” Glinda said with a wave of her hand. “We’re in the Emerald City! Even you have to admit it’s amazing.”

Elphaba scoffed but didn’t respond. You took her hand in yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. Her gaze flicked to you, and for a moment, her stern expression softened. She didn’t pull away.

The three of you finally reached the Wizard’s palace, its gleaming green gates towering above. You tried to ignore the uneasy knot forming in your stomach as the guards ushered you inside.

The Wizard greeted you with charm and grandeur, his booming voice filling the chamber. For a moment, even you felt a flicker of awe. But Elphaba was unmoved. She stood tall, her chin high, as she presented her case—pleading for change, for justice, for truth.

But then the truth he revealed shattered everything.

The Wizard’s supposed magic was nothing more than smoke and mirrors. Worse, he had been complicit in the suffering Elphaba had hoped to stop. When he tried to convince her to join him—to use her power to maintain his control—she snapped.

“You think I would help you manipulate and oppress people?” Elphaba’s voice cracked with fury. “You’re a fraud. A coward!”

“Now, now, my dear,” the Wizard said, his tone dangerously smooth. “There’s no need to be rash. Together, we could accomplish great things. Think of the power you’d wield.”

“I don’t want your power!” she shouted. Her magic surged, making the air in the room crackle. “I want freedom. For all of us.”

The guards stepped forward, but Elphaba turned, grabbing your arm. “We’re leaving.”

“Wait!” Glinda cried. She looked back at the Wizard, her face conflicted. “Maybe… maybe we could change things. From the inside.”

Elphaba froze, her expression hardening. “You can’t change a system designed to crush people, Glinda. You can only burn it down.”

Glinda’s eyes brimmed with tears, but she shook her head. “I just don’t think I can do this. I’m sorry.”

Elphaba let out a bitter laugh. “Of course you can’t. You never could.��� She turned away, pulling you toward the door. “Come on. I’m not staying where I’m not wanted.”

You glanced back at Glinda, your heart aching for her indecision. “I’m sorry, Glinda,” you whispered. “But she’s right. I’m going with her.”

The two of you ran through the labyrinth of streets, dodging guards and slipping into shadows. The city’s beauty seemed twisted now, its green glow sinister and oppressive. Elphaba didn’t speak, her grip on your hand tight as she led you through dark alleys and hidden paths.

Finally, you stopped in a deserted courtyard, far from the Wizard’s palace. Elphaba leaned against a wall, breathing heavily. Her hands trembled as she pushed her hair back, her jaw set in anger and despair.

You stepped closer, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Elphaba…”

She flinched at your touch but didn’t pull away. “You didn’t have to come with me,” she said, her voice low and raw. “You could’ve stayed with Glinda. She’s the one everyone loves. The one who belongs in this perfect little city.”

“I didn’t want to stay with her,” you replied. “I wanted to stay with you.”

Elphaba turned to you, her piercing green eyes searching yours. “Why?” she whispered. “Why would you risk everything for me?”

“Because I believe in you,” you said, your voice steady. “Because you’re brave and brilliant, and you’re willing to fight for what’s right, even when it’s hard. You’re not alone in this, Elphaba. I won’t let you be.”

For a moment, she just stared at you, as if trying to find the lie in your words. Then, slowly, her expression crumbled. “You’re the only one who hasn’t turned your back on me,” she murmured, her voice breaking. “I don’t know why I deserve that.”

“You don’t have to deserve it,” you said, reaching for her hand. “I’m here because I care about you. Because I—”

The words caught in your throat, but you didn’t need to finish. Elphaba’s fingers curled around yours, her touch hesitant but steady.

“Thank you,” she whispered. Tears shone in her eyes, but she didn’t let them fall. “I don’t know if I can do this. But I’ll try. If you’re with me.”

“Always,” you promised.

In the silence that followed, the weight of the world seemed a little lighter. Together, you stepped into the night, ready to face whatever came next.

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[perfectlyoongi]

A CONFIRMATION - Yoongi, wc: 1.020, u know the drill -just trust me.

The rain was heavy, loud, noisy, attacking the windows with the fury of anguish that lingered in the grey, thick, resentful clouds of that night. The wind was pressing, setting in the streets and neighborhoods of the city, devouring all the life it saw, envious of its simplicity and eternity.

But the real storm had originated in your house, in your room, mere words ago.

“You always knew that, didn’t you?”

Your eyes burned with the pain of betrayal, red with the aggression of hurt, tearful with the intensity of agony.

“It has always been my knowledge, yes.”

Always.

Your started to walk around your room, trying to release some of your anger in the hurried steps you took, painting tumultuous paths between your bed and the door over and over and over again.

“And didn’t you think it was better to tell me that before we went this far? Before I gave myself completely to you?”

You spoke to yourself, letting all your frustrations escape your lips. It was a song of despair, a symphony of regret running away from you with every step, every word, every tear trapped in your eyes.

How could’ve you been so dumb?

You knew it was a mistake. Your whole story – a mistake. From the moment you allowed yourself to fall in love with Yoongi to the moment you let yourself be carried away by his hollow, empty, manipulative words that involved you in a relationship too perfect, too beautiful, too good to be true – or sincere.

How could’ve you been so naïve?

How did you allow yourself to be carried away by promises addressed to the stars, how did you allow yourself to fall into confessions declared to the skies? Nothing he said, nothing he confessed to you, was directed at you. All the words he said to you were never really meant for you – they were always given to the possibility of the universe, offered to the infinity of time and space, never lingering in the moment, in you.

“Tell you… what?”

You stopped walking and looked at Yoongi, his eyes closed in pure confusion, his speech too light to be a tease or a lie.

“What do you mean what?” you huffed and sat on the bed, tired, hurt, broken. How your head hurt at that moment. “I asked you if you liked me, if you loved me.”

“Yes.”

Yoongi was still confused, an almost comical expression on his face as he tried to follow your reasoning, all is intellect practically nil when it came to you, to your relationship.

“You said no.”

“Oh!” Yoongi sat beside you when your explanation lightened a little the darkness in which you had left him. “I don’t love you because I believe that’s not enough.”

You looked at him in the middle of the storm, the rain slackening in line with Yoongi’s words, the wind momentarily withdrawing so that the following words could be heard clearly and without any hitch. That moment belonged to Yoongi, and the universe, devoted to your love, complicit in your passion, was ready to praise the true feelings that were in his soul, in his heart.

“Love ends up dying one day. A lie, a betrayal, or simply because it ceased to exist. Love is ephemeral. And what I feel for you, what we have, I know will transcend our time and the entire universe.”

“That doesn’t justify your reaction, why you were so rude when you know what it means to me.”

You never forced him to use the three words that flowed so freely from your lips whenever you saw him. You never forced him to be uncomfortable around you for your sake. But all you asked, all you wanted, was a confirmation of a question. A simple ‘yes’. And he attacked you with the cruelty of his thoughts, with the intellectuality of his feelings.

“I want to give you everything. I want to do everything for you. But I can’t give you what you ask, I don’t know how to give it to you. For now.”

For now. But already a little late.

Tears finally began to flow as the rain finally stopped. Looking at Yoongi, seeing how naturally he handled that argument, it was too much for your already broken heart.

There was a long pause.

“But I want you to understand what goes on inside me. I want you to know what I really feel. It’s not love, because I don’t believe in the existence of something so small and strong. It’s something big, that contains multitudes and that doesn’t fit in me. It’s something that forces me to confess to the stars, to promise the sky a continuation in the next life because this one is too small to love you completely, to love you as you should be loved. I am devoted to you, completely surrendered to you and your existence, bewitched by your soul.”

Yoongi had held your face in the middle of his speech, forcing you to look into his eyes, into his soul, and realize that only truth was uttered by him.

His thumbs wiped away your tears, smoothing your cheeks with the care of someone who really cares, someone who really loves.

“But if you prefer, I’ll say it. With all the letters and syllables, in as many languages as you want.”

But you shook your head and, in a last effort at comfort, you let your head hide in Yoongi’s chest, allowing him to envelop you in a tight embrace, feeling the pieces of your heart come together again with each caress given by Yoongi.

And, in the warmth of each other’s arms, you and Yoongi shared the rest of the night in the silence of your room and in the calm that came after the storm outside, letting the sounds of the city lull you into a necessary sleep, letting the love between you covered yourselves in that small space, with the assurance that your feelings had been heard, understood, accepted. After all, there were many ways to say you loved someone.

[walkingzombiegirl]

"Does it hurt?" Satoru whispered, staring down at his hands still shoved into fists turned white with anger. With despair. With the gut wrenching twist he hadn't felt in so long and that he silently had wished he'd never have to feel again.

The world danced around you both, the clanging and yells of pain and triumph ricocheting through the cold air. It complimented the smell of blood and look of it as it ran down the sides of your white shirt, sinking into the ground with a kiss. One soaked in death.

"Only a little." He heard you whisper, his eyes, though covered, were all on you. Bright and beautiful and all at once, just as he always was. You grinned at them, and he wondered how.

"You're dying." He stated coldly, staring at the sky. He couldn't ask the clouds to bring you back down when you finally left the body behind him. He couldn't beg or plead or threaten them with his name or his sight. They would laugh in his face, just as they had before.

"I know." You replied, a small choke passing your lips that glistened with the same crimson as below. "Nothing a cursed technique or a shot of liquor could do for me now... it's my time you know."

His jaw clenched, oh you, darling, you and those tricky letters, how he hated when you said those words. From sorcerer to sorcerer, each dropped at their time and he was made to watch you tremble, to shake his head but refuse to question whatever god or deity or force would will it upon his friends so young. Their time. Such a small clock. Such little hands. So why did it seem like his was so large? Still ticking and ticking and driving him forward while all of those were left at numbers behind him.

"I-" "Hate that phrase... I know." You choked again, but this time you didn't stop, coughing and seizing, his body reflexively turning around to help you. But there was nothing he do. Not then, not now.

"One day, you'll learn to accept it." He swore he wouldn't, because if seeing that light in your eyes dim in the way all six of them watched now meant that he would have to tell that force it was right, he would take an oath of silence for life.

"You will. You've already begun too."

Those words haunted him. They haunted him the few hours between the moment you laid in his arms until the moment you were back in them.

The clouds had room for more, it seemed.

[shapard]

WHERE IS THE PART THREE OF SATAN X SUCCUBUS!? WE'VE BEEN STARVING FOR A MONTH! WHERE IS THE FOOD!??? FOOOOOD!!!!!!

Tantrum

Satan x succubus!fem!reader

Sabotage

HERE IS IT!! TOOK ME A WHILE BUT HERE IS IT😭 So many requests for the third part and finally I deliver. I have a feeling this is going to end up in a Story🫡Not that I mind🤧

warning: breeding, yandere Satan, p in v, possessive, protective (?), angry satan, punishment, smut, hard smut, Satan is a warning himself ngl

Part 1 -> Part 2 -> Part 3

Everything felt unbearable, like the air itself was suffocating you. Staying in this place wasn’t just a punishment—it was a living nightmare, a perpetual torment. You looked into the mirror, the faint light casting sharp shadows over your reflection. The silky, elegant garment you wore—a gift from him—clung to your body, its beauty a mockery of your suffering. It hid the bruises, the marks, the evidence of his obsession. But nothing could conceal the newest scar on your thigh.

Your fingers hovered over it, trembling, before brushing against the raw, burning wound. The touch sent a jolt of pain up your spine, but it wasn’t just physical. You blinked rapidly, willing the tears to stay at bay. Healed by Satan, he said. But healing wasn’t what this was—this was ownership, branding, a constant reminder of what you had become.

Your eyes drifted to the window, its glass teasingly thin. Beyond it lay freedom. And death. Both felt synonymous, both equally inviting. You swallowed hard, fighting the urge to throw yourself through it. Your wings twitched faintly at the thought, a reflex more than anything. But you were too afraid to use them, too scared of what he might do if you tried. The thought of his hands tearing them from your back made your stomach churn.

You tightened your grip on your thigh, nails digging into the scar until blood began to seep through. The metallic scent was nauseating, grounding you in the present—a reality you desperately wanted to escape. You wanted to rip this garment off, this sinful, taunting piece of beauty. It was another gift, a symbol of his twisted affections. You hated it. You hated him. And the worst part was that he dared to call this freedom. He dared to tell you this was what you’d always wanted.

The door burst open, and the sharp sound made you flinch, a strangled scream escaping your lips. Your body tensed, instinctively bracing for the worst. But instead, a giggle cut through the tension, light and almost mocking. “Oh, I’m so sorry!” came a cheerful voice.

Your head snapped toward the intruder, your heart racing. It was an Imp—a small creature with an irritatingly smug smile, one of Satan’s personal servants. Her bright eyes scanned you, her expression dripping with amusement. “So you’re the one,” she said, her voice lilting with curiosity. “You’re the obsession he won’t stop talking about.”

Your eyebrows furrowed at her words, but you stayed silent, glaring. Obsession. The word hung in the air like a foul stench. The Imp’s grin widened as if she found the entire situation amusing. “You’re lucky, you know,” she added with a conspiratorial wink, her tone almost envious.

Lucky. The word made your blood boil. You wanted to laugh in her face, to scream at her. Lucky? To be held captive? To be broken and pieced together like some grotesque art project? The thought was so absurd, it felt like a cruel joke. You clenched your fists, the pain in your thigh forgotten for a moment.

The Imp stepped forward, placing a black box tied with a golden ribbon on the desk. “A gift from him,” she chirped. “Something special.” She bowed, her movements quick and rehearsed, before scurrying out of the room like a thief. You didn’t even get the chance to ask her name. Not that it mattered.

“Maybe next time,” you muttered bitterly, your voice shaking with a mixture of anger and despair. Next time. The very thought made your stomach turn. The idea of another encounter, another day in this hell, was unbearable.

Your gaze fell on the box, its dark surface gleaming ominously in the dim light. The ribbon glowed faintly, a deep crimson like freshly spilled blood, its vibrant contrast against the pitch-black wrapping unnerving. You hesitated, your hands hovering over it. Do you open it? Do you dare?

A bitter laugh escaped your lips as you stared at the box. There was nothing normal about Satan, nothing predictable. This wasn’t just a present—it was a message, a reminder of your place here. You ran your fingers over the ribbon, its silky texture feeling almost alive under your touch.

Your mind wandered, unbidden, to the man you once thought he was—a charming, broken soul with a darkness you naively thought you could fix. You had been so wrong. He wasn’t a man. He was a monster, a demon in every sense of the word. And you? You weren’t a person anymore. You were his canvas, his possession, his obsession.

The thought made your chest tighten, a suffocating weight pressing down on you. Your fingers trembled as they moved to the bow. You didn’t want to open it, didn’t want to see whatever twisted token of affection lay inside. But a part of you—the part that had been broken down and reshaped by fear—knew you had no choice.

The silence in the room was deafening as you pulled at the ribbon, the bow unraveling in your hands. Whatever lay inside, you knew it wouldn’t be freedom. It never was.

As the packaging revealed its secret, a cold chill ran down your spine. The contents glimmered like forbidden treasures—heels, black as the void, with blood-red rubies embedded like shards of sin. They seemed to hum, faintly vibrating with an energy you couldn’t name, as if alive. Your instincts screamed to hurl them far, far away, but something deeper, darker, rooted you in place. Your heart thudded erratically, the pulse in your neck quickening. The heels were mesmerizing, hauntingly beautiful, a temptation wrapped in menace.

Your breath caught when a folded paper, as crimson as fresh-spilled blood, drifted from the box and landed atop the open ribbon like a silent omen. With trembling fingers, you lifted it and unfolded the note.

Come visit me in my office.

With love, Satan

The words burned themselves into your mind. The script was elegant, yet dripping with an unseen malice, and you could almost feel the heat radiating from the ink. You shoved the heels back into the package with a shudder and kicked it under the bed, as if burying a corpse. But even then, you felt their presence—a weight in the shadows, watching, waiting.

With a heavy sigh, you opened the door and stepped into the night. The air was suffocating, thick like smoke, and the dim path of stones beneath your feet seemed endless, each step echoing in the oppressive silence. Your throat tightened as dread coiled around your chest, squeezing.

When you reached the door, it creaked open on its own, revealing a towering figure framed in the dim light of the room beyond. Him.

Satan stood there, his horns curving ominously upward, casting jagged shadows along the walls. He huffed, twin streams of steam spiraling from his nostrils, and his eyes—deep, crimson pits, fixed on you. For a brief moment, they softened, a flicker of something human that vanished just as quickly as it appeared. His lips curled into a sneer, revealing sharp, glinting teeth.

“Where’s the gift I sent you?” His voice was a low growl, dark and dangerous, a blade dragging against your skin.

You swallowed, your voice barely a whisper. “I… I didn’t want to wear it today.”

His expression darkened instantly, the flickering candlelight catching the glint of his sharpened horns. He rose to his full height, his wings unfurling with a menacing rustle, casting the room into deeper shadow.

“Didn’t want to?” he growled, the sound reverberating like distant thunder. “You still don’t understand obedience, do you?”

You flinched as he stalked toward you, each step deliberate, deadly. His presence swallowed the room, the air thick with the scent of sulfur and ash.

“I—” you began, but a guttural snarl cut you off, silencing you mid-breath.

“Don’t apologize,” he snapped, his tone sharp enough to slice. “A Queen does not grovel.”

Before you could react, his hand gripped your arm, pulling you forward with a force that made your knees buckle. His wings stretched wider, darkening the room into near-total blackness.

“You’re coming with me,” he hissed, his voice dripping with command. In one swift motion, he slung you over his shoulder like prey, his clawed hand digging into your side. The air rushed from your lungs, leaving you gasping, as his wings unfurled fully.

The last thing you saw before the darkness enveloped you was the smirk on his face - dangerous, triumphant, and full of promises you weren’t sure you wanted to keep.

As you hung helplessly over his shoulder, your mind raced, your senses heightened. You could only catch glimpses of the hallway as he strode through it, each step deliberate, each moment charged with a tension that sent your pulse hammering. Before you could gather yourself, he kicked open the door to his chamber and tossed you onto the bed like you weighed nothing. The cool silk sheets met your back, but the heat radiating from him burned hotter.

"It seems I’ve been far too lenient with you, my love," he growled, his voice thick with unspoken promise.

You sucked in a shaky breath, your chest rising and falling as his eyes locked onto you, piercing and relentless. He began to shed his attire, piece by piece, and the sight left you breathless. The dim light of the chamber cast sharp shadows over his chiseled form, accentuating every ridge of his muscles, the hard planes of his chest, and the tantalizing line of his V that disappeared beneath his waistband.

You couldn’t help it—your eyes trailed over him, lingering where they shouldn’t. Heat pooled in your stomach, your throat tightening as your gaze betrayed you.

A deep chuckle rumbled from him, low and sinful, snapping you back to reality. “You can’t hide it,” he teased, his head tilting slightly as his smirk deepened. “You love this body, don’t you?” His voice dropped, dipping into a growl that sent shivers down your spine and an ache lower.

Your lips parted, but no words came out—only the sound of your uneven breathing. He closed the space between you in two strides, looming over you as his hands came down on either side of your head, caging you in. The heat of his skin was unbearable, intoxicating, and his scent—smoke, leather, and something darkly sweet—wrapped around you, suffocating in the best way.

“You can lie to yourself,” he murmured, his lips hovering just above yours, “but your body tells me everything.”

Before you could respond, his lips crashed into yours, demanding, possessive, and utterly consuming. The kiss was fire—his mouth claimed yours like it was his right, his tongue sweeping past your lips with no hesitation. You gasped into him, your hands instinctively reaching up to grasp at his shoulders, your nails digging into the unyielding muscle.

He growled against your mouth, the sound vibrating through you, and tilted his head to deepen the kiss, his sharp teeth grazing your bottom lip just enough to make you whimper. His hands moved, one tangling in your hair, pulling just enough to arch your neck and expose your throat to him.

“You taste better than I remember,” he purred, his lips trailing down your jaw to your neck, where he pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses that sent electric shocks coursing through you.

Your body betrayed you completely, melting under his touch as he explored, his other hand gripping your waist, pulling you flush against him. The hard lines of his body pressed against your softness, and the friction made you gasp, your nails raking down his back.

“You feel it too, don’t you?” he rasped against your skin, his teeth grazing the sensitive spot just below your ear. “The fire. The need.”

You couldn’t speak—your voice caught somewhere between a gasp and a moan as he continued his assault on your senses. His lips, his hands, his heat—they overwhelmed you, leaving you trembling beneath him.

“You’re mine,” he growled, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze. His crimson eyes burned with something primal, something possessive. “And tonight, I’ll make sure you never forget it.”

His lips were on yours again, his hands roaming, and the world outside his chamber disappeared. There was only him—his heat, his touch, his overwhelming presence. And you couldn’t fight it anymore. You didn’t want to.

You couldn’t fight it anymore. You didn’t want to. The battle against his dominance had long since been lost, melted away under the heat of his touch, the fire in his eyes.

Satan crushed his lips against yours, an intoxicating mix of raw hunger and desperate possession. When he pulled away, his golden eyes were ablaze, pupils dilated, his breath ragged with desire. His grip on your waist was bruising, his claws barely holding back from tearing into your flesh. “You’re so pretty,” he murmured, voice husky, reverent yet dangerous. “Prettier than anything I’ve ever seen. Prettier than anything I will ever see.”

Before you could even register his words, he crashed his lips onto yours again, this time slower, more deliberate, as if savoring every second of it, tasting you like you were the finest delicacy meant only for him. His hands roamed, sliding down your body as he peeled away your clothes with agonizing patience. But his restraint didn’t last long. A growl rumbled deep in his chest, patience shattering, as his claws sliced away the last remnants of fabric. He wanted you bare, vulnerable—only for him.

“You’re everything I need.” His breath fanned hot against your neck, sending shivers down your spine. “Everything I will ever need.” His lips pressed against your pulse, lingering before his sharp teeth grazed the sensitive skin. His grip tightened. “I’ll never let you go.”

You winced at the weight of his words, knowing they weren’t mere whispers of passion. Satan wasn’t one to let go of what belonged to him. You knew—oh, you knew—he’d keep you by his side, whether you wanted it or not. The idea both thrilled and terrified you.

A sharp gasp tore from your lips as his claw trailed between your folds, gathering the slickness that dripped down your thighs. His breathing was heavy, ragged, as if he was barely keeping himself from devouring you whole. “So wet for me…” His voice was drenched in possessiveness, dark and heavy, as though your desire for him was the ultimate proof of his claim over you.

Before you could even process the moment, he thrust into you with no hesitation, no mercy. Your walls stretched around him, a scream-like moan escaping your lips as he buried himself deep inside you. He groaned, the sound primal, needy, and utterly possessive. His grip on your hips was unforgiving, fingers digging into your soft flesh as he pounded into you relentlessly.

“Fuck.” His voice was a low snarl, his rhythm punishing yet intoxicating. “You’re so addictive… I can’t stop… I won’t stop.”

His thrusts grew more erratic, more desperate, like a beast driven mad with need. His claws traced over your stomach, your breasts, before wrapping around your throat with just enough pressure to remind you who you belonged to. You felt him everywhere—inside, outside, consuming you, branding you with his touch, his scent, his essence. The air was thick with the sound of skin slapping against skin, your broken moans, and his guttural growls of possession.

He let out a deep, animalistic roar as he came, slamming his hips against yours, grinding into you as he filled you up. His body trembled against yours, yet even as he emptied himself inside you, his grip never loosened. You sighed, trying to push yourself away, only to be yanked back into his arms. Your heart pounded.

Confused, you looked up at him. “Wha—”

His smirk was dangerous, his golden eyes gleaming with something dark, something insatiable. “You think we’re done?” His voice was smooth, teasing, yet there was no mistaking the warning laced beneath his words.

You barely had time to catch your breath before he was moving again, thrusting back into you, ignoring your whimper of overstimulation. “I told you, my love,” he whispered against your ear, voice dripping with dark devotion. “I will never let you go.”

Hours passed, your body trembling, sore, yet he showed no sign of stopping. It had to be the tenth round, and Satan was still as hard, as relentless, as he was the first time he took you. His cock twitched inside you, filling you over and over again, stretching you to your limits. His seed dripped down your thighs, marking you, claiming you in the most primal way possible.

His growls were feral, his movements rough, desperate—like a beast in heat, like a demon obsessed. His hands roamed every inch of you, leaving scratches, bruises, evidence of his ownership. And then, without warning, he sank his fangs into your shoulder, biting down hard enough to draw blood. You gasped, back arching, pleasure and pain intertwining so exquisitely that your vision blurred.

Satan licked the wound, smirking at the sight of his mark on your skin. His fingers traced over the brand he had given you before, a symbol of his eternal claim. “Now everyone will know…” he murmured, voice soft yet laced with something possessive, something unbreakable. His lips brushed against your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

“You are mine.”

____

You were exhausted. You had passed out in the middle of the act. Your body felt heavy, limbs aching in a way that was both satisfying and overwhelming. When your eyes fluttered open, you found yourself lying in a bed, the scent of fresh linens surrounding you. The bedding was new, crisp, and clean, replacing what had surely been ruined. Satan must have taken care of you. A small mercy.

You shifted slightly, only to immediately regret it. Your muscles screamed in protest, soreness pulsing through every inch of you. A soft groan escaped your lips. Despite the lingering ache, you were clean—not a trace of the mess from before. He had bathed you, dressed you, and tucked you into bed with surprising tenderness.

Your gaze flickered toward the calendar on the wall, and your heart nearly stopped. Your eyes widened in shock. Three days. Had you been asleep for three days? Or worse—had you been at it for three days straight? The thought made your stomach twist.

Determined to move, you pushed yourself up, only to be stopped by a sudden, frantic voice.

“No! My lady, please don’t move too much!” The soft yet firm tone came from the maid standing at the doorway. She rushed to your side, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder to ease you back down. “Your muscles are still very sore. You need to rest for at least two more days.”

A deep blush crept onto your cheeks. The implications of her words made you want to disappear into the sheets. You nodded meekly, and she smiled, setting down a tray on the nightstand. “If you’re tired, please rest,” she said before exiting the room, her footsteps fading into silence.

You let out a shaky breath, shifting your gaze to the nightstand. Beside your breakfast, a small pill rested on a neatly folded note.

‘For the soreness.’

You swallowed hard, picking up the medicine and popping it into your mouth before slowly eating your food. Warm, filling, comforting. A stark contrast to the brutal intensity you had endured.

As you lay back against the pillows, exhaustion creeping in once more, you realized something—

Satan had taken care of you in his own way. Even in his obsession, his need to possess you, he had ensured you were safe, comfortable, and cared for.

And somehow, that terrified you more than anything.

______

You remember that day very clearly. After eating your breakfast and lying down to rest, you received a message—Satan had left on a trip to the other rings. He would be gone for weeks.

Your head spun, nausea rising. You barely made it to the bathroom before you collapsed against the toilet, heaving violently.

Praying you were just sick.

Praying you weren’t… pregnant.

You couldn’t be.

You weren’t allowed to be—not with his.

Panic gripped your chest as you sat there, clutching your stomach, heart hammering in your ribcage. The room spun around you, but nothing felt real anymore. If this was true… if you really were carrying his child…

What would happen when he found out?

I apologize for updating so late. I'm going through a difficult friendship breakup. I was in a very toxic friendship and finally ended it. You can imagine how hard it is right now, but it also gives me a lot of motivation for other things. I don't know if I'll post regularly, but I hope that by early March, I'll be able to post at least once a week. Thank you for the Love and Support pookies<3 sending out love💫

[belovedmusings]

“I’m not going anywhere.”

+ MAJOR MANGA SPOILERS +

Explicit Smut 18+ 🚫Minors DNI🚫

Satoru survived being severed in half thanks to Yuuta’s Reversed Curse Technique and subsequently claimed victory, but you keep reliving the moment you saw him die before your eyes. You wake up beside him one night crying from a nightmare of it, and wanting to make you feel better and remind you that he’s okay and he’s not going anywhere, he lets you take him any way you need him.

Relevant tags: AFAB reader with minimal gendered language, reader insert without using “y/n”, graphic nightmare at the beginning but it’s quick, fix-it, hurt/comfort, soft and emotional sex, handjob, fingering, Satoru’s 6-inch fingers, slow sex, praises and declarations of love, lots of kissing, love bites, riding, unprotected sex, creampie, cockwarming, Satoru’s big cock :’) <3

Music recommended while reading: My Love (Sia), positions (Ariana Grande), Souvenir (Selena Gomez), Religion (Lana Del Rey)

A/N: no I’m absolutely not over wtf happened in ch 236 and yes I’m 100% crazy enough to still believe him when he said he’d win. He’ll win and I trust him. I have to or I’ll go crazy. Here’s this emotional smut to cope.

Read below cut:

He was winning. He was fine, he was smiling and now—

He’s not. He’s not moving, he’s not doing anything but he’s in half he’s in fucking half and there’s so much blood—

You scream. You scream but it sounds like it’s underwater and you can’t breathe, you can’t feel anything but despair and pain and dread and anger and disbelief and fucking devastation. Satoru is— he’s— oh god, he’s—

“Hey.”

You’re sobbing. Tears stream from your eyes but you can’t feel, you can’t see anything, you can’t hear, you can’t exist without him—

“Hey. Hey, hey, hey.”

That voice snaps you back to consciousness, a deep gasp from you following. Warm hands are on your shoulders, and you look up at the source, eyes landing upon Satoru’s concerned face. His beautiful, alive face. What? How?

“Hey,” he murmurs again softly, brows furrowed in worry as he rubs up and down your arm soothingly. “Shh, shh, shh…you’re okay. It was just a bad dream.”

A dream?

“No it wasn’t,” you shake your head, voice broken. The lump in your throat won’t go away as you continue to cry. “You were…you were gone and I—”

“I’m right here,” he cuts him firmly, squeezing your arm. “Look at me. I’m talking to you, aren’t I? I’m fine. Promise.”

Your eyes search his face, his body, and blindly you reach out, touching his clothed abdomen, feeling over it to make absolutely sure he’s not lying. When you feel nothing but solid, warm flesh underneath, even when you touch down to his thigh, you relax, sniffling. He’s completely intact. He’s okay.

You remember then what had happened after he had fallen. You’d gone into a panic, threw up, and blacked out after sobbing uncontrollably after tearing your eyes from the screen that displayed his lifeless body.

When you woke up, you were lying against a wall, Shoko watching over you, telling you that Yuuta managed to get ahold of him while Yuuji and Higuruma were fighting Sukuna. He’d used his Reversed Curse Technique to heal him, and he was up and fighting again, this time facing off with Kenjaku.

It was jarring to see him back alive, like you were seeing the resurrection of a god. But it was okay. He was even stronger than before, and along with the others, he was capable of defeating both of the threats.

His victory had restored balance once more.

He’d come off of that battlefield on his own two feet, sweaty, heavily banged up and exhausted, but he had a brilliant smile on his face that said everything is fine now, and he’d welcomed you into his arms without hesitation.

“Oh god,” you breathe out, “It was a dream. Thank god.”

He wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you in, planting a kiss on your temple.

“I told you I’d win, didn’t I?” He asks, “You gotta trust me, silly. M’ not going anywhere.”

You huff, nuzzling into his chest. “Don’t call me silly because I’m worried about you.”

He sighs softly, rubbing your back. “Fine, fine. But seriously, I’m fine. So no need to worry, okay? I’m right here, however you need me.”

He is. You can feel him in your arms, you can feel him holding you, and yet in your sleep-fogged mind, you can’t help but still retain some anxiety that you’ll wake up again and he’ll be gone for good. That you imagined all of those victories in order to cope. You need to feel more of him to confirm he’s real.

“However I need you?” You ask, drawing back to meet his eyes, gleaming in the dim lighting of the moon. He nods.

“Of course. What kind of boyfriend would I be otherwise? I’m yours to do with as you please.”

You can’t help it; his tone always brings out a special playfulness in you. “As I please? You sound so easy.”

“Easy for you,” he grins wolfishly, and you roll your eyes fondly before sobering up.

“I need more reassurance,” you tell him. “I want to feel you.”

He eyes you curiously, nodding. “Sure thing. What do you have in mind?”

You reach up to touch his face, brushing your thumb between his eyebrows to work out the furrow, then dancing it over his brow bone, then his cheekbone, and finally his lips. You pad it over the soft skin there before leaning up and kissing him, relaxing at the familiar taste of his mouth. He doesn’t hesitate to return the gesture, lips moving with yours in a combination of slow and sensual.

The hand that was resting on his jaw slowly travels down over his neck, where your thumb runs over the column gently, grazing his Adam’s apple a few times before moving on to his collarbone. You explore that spot for a few moments and then massage down his shoulder, over his pec, flattening your palm to feel the beat of his heart.

It calms you to feel that strong thump thump thump against your touch, impassioning you enough to make you deepen the kiss and slip your tongue into his protestless mouth. A soft groan sounds at the back of his throat, and that spurs you on to continue touching him, running your palm over his muscles that were once lithe, but after time spent preparing for battle while he was sealed away to occupy himself, have turned thick and solid. You ghost over the ridges of his abdomen and shiver, feeling each contour through his shirt.

It sends a wave of heat through you and your ministrations turn heavy with desire, finding the hem of his shirt, sliding your hand underneath it and massaging over the hot skin of his naked chest. He groans and guides his own hand from your waist to your ass, clad only in underwear for comfort to sleep, giving it a generous knead.

“Mmh,” you breathe into his mouth, letting him go further to grab your thigh, hooking his hand under your knee and hiking your leg up around his hip.

His tongue runs over yours dirtily as his hand slides back up to the apex of your legs, reaching around to cup your mound through the thin garment over it. His middle and ring fingers massage over that little sensitive pearl just begging to be touched, making you moan softly.

Your lust is deepening by the second and it makes you grow bolder, palm on his abdomen lowering to the front of his boxers and caressing the sizable hardness it finds there. Subconsciously you start to move your hips with his touches, kiss turning sloppy the more you pleasure each other.

The drags of his fingertips get a little too difficult when the fabric over your core gets soaked through, so he easily amends it by slipping his fingers beneath the edge of the article, touching you without any barriers.

“Satoru,” you moan louder as he teases the swollen pearl beneath his digits. He hums in his throat, and wanting to even things out, your hand dips below his boxers, wrapping around the hard and hot erection he’s been sporting since you started kissing him.

A bead of precum at his tip makes the slide a little easier and you feel him start rocking into your hand, meeting your strokes, a breathy groan sounding from him.

He wants the upperhand, of course, so he elects to push two of his lengthy fingers into your entrance, causing you to gasp, spreading your legs wider to accommodate. The man’s digits are long enough to reach your cervix without even trying and he presses pointedly against it, wriggling the tips of his fingers against that sensitive spot teasingly.

“God, Satoru,” you mewl, touching him with more purpose, circling your thumb over his tip.

“Ngh,” he groans in response, moving his hand so that he starts finger-fucking you at a pace, the wet sounds reaching your ears along with the heavy pants from the both of you. You clench around him and he speeds up, abusing that part deep inside of you just with his hand.

You love it when he fingers you but it’s not what you want right now—not truly.

You look up at him, shuddering at the look of unbridled lust pooling in his cerulean eyes. He always gets this certain wild look that gives you goosebumps.

“Satoru,” you manage breathlessly.

“Yeah?” He asks, just as winded.

“I want you inside me. I need to feel you.”

He sucks in a breath and nods, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek before pulling his fingers out of you. He rolls to lay on his back, raising his hand up to his mouth and running his long tongue over the digits coated in your essence, a deep groan sounding after. It invigorates your desire for him and hurriedly, you remove your soaked underwear, freeing him of his own boxers afterward.

He sits up for a moment to get his shirt off, tossing it off the bed and then grabbing your hips, making you straddle his thighs. His hands hook under your shirt and you raise your arms so that he can remove it, the two of you now bare as the day you were born.

He wastes no time in kissing you again, this time more desperately, using one hand to guide your hips over his large cock, the other holding it still. He slides inside as you lower yourself, girth forcing you to stretch generously.

“Fuck,” you breathe into his mouth. You’re familiar with his impressive size by now but it never ceases to light a fire with your nerve-endings, length stuffing you full even before he’s bottomed out. You shudder and push him down to lay out on the bed, following him, breaking the kiss to bury your face in the crook of his neck. His palms grip the tops of your thighs as you lay on his chest, your skin touching everywhere. He’s so warm and sturdy beneath you, you feel like you could stay like this forever, tucked into him, split open on his dick, nestled deep inside you without any effort. You breathe in and get hit with the scent of his skin, musky and sweet in a way that’s unique only to him and completely intoxicating to you.

You push your nose more greedily into the column of his neck, moaning as he starts rolling both of your hips together slowly. Like this, his abdomen provides the perfect firm muscle to grind your swollen pearl on, heightening your pleasure.

He bends his legs to provide himself with a little barrier so that when he pushes your hips down, they don’t have anywhere to go, forcing you to take his cock deeper. It prods at your cervix and forces hot chills over your body, your hands bracing on his shoulders helplessly as he does all of the work.

You inhale deeply as he grinds up into you, walls fluttering around him, eliciting a groan from his syrupy voice.

It sends a shiver through you and wanting to chase it, you flick your tongue out over his collarbone, licking along the flesh to taste him.

“Oh,” he grunts, sucking air through his teeth as you feel him twitch inside of you. Encouraged from his response, you do it again, closing your lips around the spot and sucking. A stuttered breath is pulled from him, your hold on his arms tightening.

Like this, you just feel so safe, so content. He’s all you could ever need. Sure, he’s insufferable sometimes and his personality goes overboard naturally, but he’s never too much for you. He’s serious when he needs to be and so sincere in his sweetness, in his affection—you don’t know what you’d do without him. You thank any god that might exist along with the stars that he survived, that he prevailed and that everything is fine now. Your chest swells with all of the gratitude in the world and it spills over.

“Satoru,” you breathe, feeling tears prick at your eyes, “I love you so much.”

You feel him swallow thickly as his hands rub comfortingly up and down the expanse of your back, kisses being pressed to the top of your head.

“Me too, baby,” he replies softly, voice slightly strained with the distraction of heat around his cock. “I feel the exact same way about you.”

You sigh shakily, littering sloppy, wet kisses over his neck, starting to roll your hips in time with his.

“I’m always gonna be here,” he continues between labored pants, “You…you can’t get rid of me. Mmh—you’re stuck with me for life.”

Your kisses begin to be accompanied by involuntary whimpers, the sensation of him locked inside of you along with his smooth skin rubbing against your sensitive bud starting to overwhelm you.

“I’m gonna…h-hah…love you so much you’ll be annoyed with me,” he continues, sucking air through his teeth, “oh fuck…so glad I have you. I really am.”

You sniffle, a watery smile spreading over your lips. A few tears escape your eyes but this time they’re of joy.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” you say with your entire soul.

“Nothing can keep me down for long,” he assures you, “I promise, okay? I promise.”

You nod against his neck, moaning when he speeds up, hands controlling your movements to meet him thrust for thrust.

“Sh-shit, Satoru,” you mewl, feeling your climax start to approach. His breathing gets heavier and more ragged, chest rising and falling so prominently that it jostles you on top of him, indicating that he’s just as wrecked as you are.

“Fuck, I’m close,” he exhales thinly, “Oh shit, shit, god you’re so tight…I’m gonna…”

You choke on a gasp, eyes squeezing shut. He always rambles when he’s nearing his finish, control on his words slipping, and you think it’s the hottest thing in the world.

“Ngh,” he gasps out, guiding you faster on top of him. You clench at the feeling, nearing the peak—“oh fuck, it’s gonna, it’s—a-ah, ah, fuck…”

You feel exactly when he cums, cock twitching hard as he spills against the entrance to your womb. The feeling of release pouring coupled with his incessant grinding on your mound pushes you to climax, a full body shudder taking over you as you tighten around his member.

He groans at the feeling, giving you another spurt of release, hands moving up to hug you close, pressing his cheek to your forehead.

“That was so good,” he breathes.

You nod in agreement, kissing his neck once more.

You know this is the part where you get off of him so you can clean up to get back to sleep, but you don’t want to move at all. You’re completely sated now, and the feeling of his softening cock inside of you is comforting. Undeniable proof that he’s right here with you in the form of a dull stretch in your core.

“Let’s stay like this,” you tell him, and he chuckles softly.

“It’s just that good, isn’t it?”

You snort softly, raising up to meet his eyes. “You’re such a little shit.”

His smile is lazy and mirthful. “Ah, but I’m your little shit. By law you have to deal with me forever, sorry.”

He shrugs in a way that indicates he’s not sorry at all, and your grin widens.

“I’m happy to deal with you forever.”

His beautiful face is radiant with the next smile he gives you, and when your lips meet in a soft kiss, you realize that all of the anxiety and fear that nightmare had left you with has been melted away.

Satoru is real, and he’s okay. He really isn’t going anywhere. He’s safe and warm and set to live a long and happy life by your side.

When the kiss ends you lay back down on his chest, and he takes to drawing invisible circles over your back with his fingertips, the steadiness of his breath, the sureness of his heartbeat, and his comforting scent all lulling you to a peaceful sleep with the promise of his presence tomorrow.

___

A/N: I actually miss him so much to the point where it’s debilitating. I’m literally a widow at this point I might as well put a picture of him in a fuckin locket and wear it like he sent it in his last letter to me, like Gege u bitch that was our husband

Please don’t repost my work but feel free to reblog/share. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed :)

[judesmoonbeauty]

Chaotic Night: William Rex

☾ CW: Gore, Blood - Just a smidge. ☾ MDNI: Brief, heavily suggestive theme. This is a fan translation. 100% accuracy is not guaranteed. Cybird owns everything. Thank you so much for your support, and I hope that you enjoy the story! ☾.

— Rained poured into the empty room.

A deep crimson rain, deeper than any ruby.

Amidst this, he walked while humming a tune along with the screams of anger and pain.

He laughs, not minding that the raindrops are sullying this body,

It’s so beautiful, it’s otherworldly…….

As if by some mysterious magnetism, I can’t take my eyes off him.

(Ahh……)

(…..How beautiful.)

— A few hours before.

The appearances of the cursed changed due to the “Queen of the Night” extract being mixed in because of Roger.

(Everyone looks different. Will is -)

William: Kate, is there anything wrong with your body?

Kate: Nope, I’m fine. But…Will, your head….!

Will had horns springing from his head. The curved horns that grew skyward were a gorgeous jet-black color.

William: …..It seems I took on this appearance thanks to the Queen of the Night extract.

Kate: Do you feel any pain in your body…?

William: I don’t feel any pain….but, I’m not pleased that I can’t lay my head in your lap.

Kate: I’m sorry. If I had been more alert, I could’ve prevented the contamination…

William: …No, you don’t need to apologize.

William: I was aware that Roger purposely placed the bottle on the table.

Kate: What?

(If that’s the case, why did Will just take the medicine….)

Kate: Will, you took the medicine because you trust Roger, right?

William: Indeed. …..Roger is a man who views us as prime test subjects.

William: Most likely, the Queen of the Night extract’s safety was tested on one person beforehand.

William: It’s been proven safe, and Roger’s cursed research is progressing,

William: There’s no reason not to cooperate. Wouldn’t you agree?

(William knew all of this, and still consumed the contents….)

(….There was no need for me to worry, or fret.)

Will accepted everything knowingly, and while I was relieved, at the same time a stain spread across my heart.

But, before I could realize what that stain was, Will smiled with a suggestion.

William: Just as our appearance has changed, so the strength of our curses have increased,

William: Don’t you think it’s a good night for condemnation?

Hearing that a criminal group who commits heinous deeds was holding a costume party on Halloween night,

William wore his horns, and I wore a simple costume.

—With that, the evil king’s condemnation began.

William: Those who’ve committed murder, must end their lives the same way.

Will’s cursed power and sins have amplified due to ingesting the extract for the Queen of the Night,

It became possible for him to exercise his ability on any who heard his voice, without looking in their eyes.

Will brings about death after death, as I walk along the hall with him.

William: Cut off the head of the subordinate you committed a crime with.

William: Shoot the vital points of the comrades you don’t like.

Chaotic, whimsical death sentences.

It’s likely that limiting the targets and killing them off slowly, is to instill terror and despair.

— And then, gleaming silver blades cut off chunks of flesh, and bullets pierce bodies from all angles.

Each time, dark red petals spray out, and rain down incessantly.

William: ~♪

As voices of pain and anger echo….William happily hums a tune.

However, the people realized this was something unusual, and started attacking us as we mixed in.

William: Those who try to harm us, should switch targets to their own companions.

With those words, the murderous intent aimed at us shifted to other people.

(Oh……)

(…..How beautiful.)

The fear I felt in my heart when I first saw these deeds, was no longer there.

I thought he was beautiful as he laughed while covered in blood.

William: I’m growing bored with these same deaths. It’s about time to end this.

William: Those who lament their own powerlessness in the face of my power….slice your throat.

As soon as the remainder heard Will’s voice, they picked up their weapons and held them against their necks.

The cruel act of the Queen of Hearts, is to decapitate them,

It will likely make headlines, and will be something to be feared by criminals.

However, they weren’t the only ones to respond to his voice —

(Huh……?)

—My hand moved involuntarily and grabbed the cold, gold knife I had hidden in my clothes.

Kate: …..

I comfortably held the knife to my throat, with my own hand.

I tried to ask Will for help, but my voice wouldn’t sound.

(This can’t be….! What should I do…like this…..)

Even as my hand shook at the fear of my impending death,

Perhaps, because of the power the curse had over my body, I didn’t drop the knife.

The blade of the knife glowed as it slowly tried to dig into my skin.

Just as I was on the verge —

William: ….I did not give you that knife to harm yourself with. Kate,

William grabbed my arm, stopping the knife from advancing.

Kate: W-ill……I…..

William: ….When I gave the order, I said, “Those who lament their own powerlessness in the face of my power.”

William: Do you feel powerless?

When I was asked that question, I remembered what happened at the castle before arriving at the venue.

[Flashback Begins]

William: It’s been proven safe, and Roger’s cursed research is progressing,

William: There’s no reason not to cooperate. Wouldn’t you agree?

(William knew all of this, and still consumed the contents….)

(….There was no need for me to worry, or fret.)

[Flashback Ends]

At that time, the identity of the stain that dropped into my heart, was a sense of powerlessness.

Kate: William, you can perceive everything, and your ability is heightened, you’re flawless……

Kate: I started thinking that maybe I didn’t need to worry….or try to protect you.

This led to my sense of powerlessness, which led to my listening to Will’s order.

William: Kate. I am a human being.

William: ….Since I am dressed like this today, perhaps that doesn’t go without saying.

As if to loosen up my stiffened heart, Will points to his horns saying this jokingly.

William: Since we’re human, there are good times, and there are bad times.

William: I just so happened to be in a good mood today, I don’t know what tomorrow brings.

William: In these uncertain days...do you really think that I don't need you from now on?

Kate: That’s….

Kate: …I don’t think that.

Kate: I want to say that there will be days that I can be your strength, Will……

The same time I said that, my grip loosened on the knife and it fell on the spot.

Perhaps, because my sense of powerlessness vanished, the effectiveness of the order ceased.

Will picks up the fallen knife and puts it back in my hand.

William: …I think so too.

William: I, need you. Kate, my beautiful and brave knight.

At the words of my loved one, the stain in my heart disappeared.

Then we kissed like we were drawn to each other.

Kate: Will….., no, more…..!

After completing our mission and returning to our room, Will immediately embraced me.

Like my body was saying what it needed, I was repeatedly pushed to the highest heights, until I let out whimpers.

William: …Really? If that’s the case, I’ll stop going so deep.

Will moved his hips to gently thrust into my shallow area, the stimulation was weaker, and it was frustrating.

Kate: Don’t, be mean…..

William: Wasn’t it “no more”.

Kate: ~~, It’s not no more.

Even though Will knows everything, he still wants me to say it though it’s embarrassing.

At that moment, I suddenly realized.

(Before on the mission, I almost died by Will’s order…..)

(Will would never do anything to put me in danger)

(Also, Will notices things my own heart isn’t aware of….)

(Maybe that order was meant to draw out my weakness, and resolve it)

William: …It seems like you’re thinking of something other than no more.

Kate: It’s about you, Will.

William: Hm? Then, I’ll listen, Kate.

William: To everything you think and feel…..

[Event Master List] Dividers: @.saradika-graphics/@.natimiles

Tags: @sh0jun @theimaginativelyreticent @sapphire-323 @letter-from-afar @nateko Please comment below if you wish to be included in translations!

This is only my second William translation....it's a learning curve, but I hope I didn't do too bad. They are mad about each other!