#one day you wake up and realize instead of fear or anger there is just Indifference. and it is utterly wonderful

[rexhya]

note — i built these into each other js for funsies 😛

✦ ✦

yandere!prince who wakes up feeling empty, and was right when he can't find you anywhere. he thinks your just hiding from him as usual, he thinks he'll find you in the bathroom somwhere crouched beneath the sink, trying to make yourself feel useful, but there's nobody.

he doesn't panic yet, you can be slippery from time to time, not to mention the fact you insisted it was better you sleep in your room last night. ( something about being on your period and dirty sheets ) and you'd bee so good lately he was easy to comply with your demands.

now he wishes he hadn't, Anul tore his bedroom and living room looking for you, tears prickinging his cheeks, hand shaking manically. where had you gone? and were you okay, what if something bad happened to you?

he was abput to search the kitchen when he realized there was too much ground to cover, instead he made an announcement to all the staff working that day: find you.

when it was quickly realized you werent in the castle Anul almost felt his heart stop. you werent hiding from him, you were running from him. uou'd escaped his grasp and took off without a word.

he was hot with anger, but would save that for later. first and foremost was to locate his precious girl, the woman of his life.

but that didnt come easy either, 2 weeks had gone by snd he was starting to feel helpless, he'd exhausted most of his resrouces looking and looking for where you could be. how long would this take, he didnt know. his patience was thinning along with his willpower, this was it, there was only one place he hadnt searched for yet and if you weren't there he'd be sure then that someone had taken you and he needed to go further to find you.

and then he did, after two long weeks and a lifetime of worrry later you were there. smiling from ear to ear, a basket of something in your hand talking to whoever had the pleasure. he didn't waste a second, it wasn't a very steep incline from the hill he'd recognized you on downwards. he'd left the horses there, he could see the ansty villiagers, what was the prince doing all the way out here? it couldn't have been good.

news travel get to your quaint little town as fast, anul was approaching you from behind as your mother and father spoke to you fondly. but then they stopped, and a young gave them a confused glance.

"are you two okay, you look a little pale.."

"everything is spendid!" a cherry voice aaid behind you.

fear rippled through your body, you whipped your head around and your worst fears were fufilled. he'd found you.

"but-but how I..." you trailed off as anul frowned, he didnt like it that you weren't estatic to see you considering how much time he spwnt looking for you. he'd thought you'd been kidnapped for christs sake!

"what are you doing here!" you blurted out, regretting it immediately.

anuls gaze was like ice, you took a step back closer to your parents arms. anul didn't say anything for a moment, he only started at the picture in front of him.

his only love, and your mother and father. "I think i should be asking you that question, don't you?"

"I-," you gulpled, terrified. "I'm sorry." and another protetive step back.

this made his smile, "oh i know you are."

that's when it dawned on him, "well, I belive it's quite rude, and probably treason to turn away the crown prince from your door, is there no tea?" and your motger immediately jumped into action, swooping the three of you into your childhood home and trying to calm the atmosphere.

when the tea was set down anul scooted closer to you so that his arm could slink around your waist, it was a feeling you thought you'd forgotten about.

you parents sat there quietly, trying to make sense of whst was happening in there home.

then anul opened his mouth, "Mrs. [Last Name], Mr. [Last Name] I'd like to graciously ask the two of you for your blessing."

and you flinched, this wasn't supposed to happen, this wasn't how this was supposed to go. you could only watch as he explained to your parents, then just as quickly as he came, he left, only this time with you in his arms, fit perfectly right where you belong.

[girlfromflor]

previous | part 2 | pack!141 x omega!reader, who has a backstory with simon. | taglist(?): @camcvpidd

ghost refused to meet you. as you were introduced to captain price and his two sergeants – gaz and soap – you were told that ghost, the lieutenant, wasn't going to make it to the meeting. you didn’t question, of course. maybe it was for the best. you'll use their hospitality and kindness and when you're ready you'll start a life of your own. ghost was a reminder of the things you wanted but couldn't have. you knew he was there – his scent lingers around on the walls, an aroma that oddly makes you want to cry – and you know that you, most likely, won't ever talk to him. much like being back to england and not knowing how to restart – or where to start, for that matter.

the first week you spent with them is a complete blur in your mind. you barely even register going to sleep at all and maybe that's the justification of your lack of memory – sleep deprivation at its finest. there wasn't really a room for you in the barracks, so you'd switch between sharing a bed with gaz or sharing a bed with price, which made you want to punch a wall in the first day and two, because why wouldn’t they share a bed and leave you to sleep alone once in a while? you soon grew used to it, however. and when the first week was complete and you had to catch a very draining flight to england, you thought you would enjoy resting in your own room, but that didn't happen. you could only sleep when you had both gaz and price snuggling you – with your back pressed to gaz's chest while price spooned him as well, so close that the captain's hand rested on your stomach under your shirt, softly caressing the flesh until he knew you were asleep.

ghost was never in the barracks, coming late at night after you've fallen asleep and leaving early in the morning before you woke up. and when you moved to their shared flat, it was not different at all. soap seemed way too on edge every time you had to share spaces – his conflicted heart couldn't choose between getting closer to the enchanting omega or staying as far away as possible respecting ghost, who seemed determined to never cross paths with you. his confusion was the worst, it'd stink up the room with the smell of his anxiety and sadness. it was bad to everyone – even to you, although you hadn't scent any of them yet.

you were always kind of tired, of course. having to always mask your omega scent so you wouldn't disturb their spaces – in your head that was the right thing to do. you had no idea how bad they craved to scent you, to comfort you somehow. one time you were startled by price who was sneaking up on you in the kitchen, your scent wavered in the air not in fear but in anger – like a threat. it was all it took for the alpha to fold, and all he wanted to do was to bask in the smell he didn't even had enough time to properly distinguish – he just wanted to press his face to you neck and brush his nose to your scent glands until you were both drowned in each other scents. instead he just brushed it off after you said ‘sorry, price, you scared me’ in a rushed tone, replying ‘call me john, sweetheart’. it was a way to try and grow closer to you.

gaz was no different. you'd settle in spending time with the beta, who you shortly after got to call kyle. john's heart would melt a little every time he heard you say ‘kyle’ in between giggles, trying to sound stern even though you were probably too flustered to speak anything else. kyle was way too sweet with you, he'd take you out twice a week for you to grow used to the city. he'd buy you things bit by bit until you had a fair share of personal belongings, and you couldn’t believe he was even a real person — to you, he was an angel. it was kyle who first learned about your nightmares.

he'd be wake late one day when he smelled a mixture he wasn't familiar. he got wary for a moment, walking down the hallway only to realize it was you. he got a bit shaken at the possibilities of getting a sniff of your scent but it was the pure desperation in it that made his heart clench. it wasn’t long before he heard you gasp, your half-closed door letting on just enough space so he could make out your legs moving in the sheets. he didn’t think twice when he heard an anguished sound from you, stepping in even though he was yet to be invited in your space. you were sitting up now, still in a sleep induced haze, on the verge of tears – until you saw him. you let out a breath, hand to your chest as your shoulders relaxed and then his scent hit you – comforting and gentle, just like always.

“can i…?” he trailed off, and you nodded. as you made space for him in the bed, he climbed in. your head laid in his chest and your breath calmed into a steady rhythm, but his mind was racing. still stuck on the way your voice sounded so vulnerable when you let out that despairing sound, a name – simon. he was sure ghost had never said his name, and neither did the others because he asked them not to. so, who the hell were you calling for?

it ate him up from the inside for days until he asked you about it one morning. he had you sitting on the cold marble of the counter as he made tea for you both.

“love…?” he called, side eyeing you to get your reaction. you immediately knew something was up, of course. your skillful nose would always snitch on them for you.

“yes? what's wrong, kyle?” your tone was soft, you allowed him to smell how you felt, knowing you both were alone made you feel more protected and safe to do it. he was grateful for it.

“who's… simon?” he asks finally after a pause. his hands kept him busy as he poured the water on your mugs, but he was still sneaking glances in your direction.

you sighed, knowing the moment would come eventually. “he was my best friend.” you confide, your eyes on him rather than flickering to your fingers for once. he only gave you a confused look, questioning. you kept talking, “we got close here in london when i was still at the orphanage, he was there as well, but for different reasons.”

he nodded then, letting out a hum in understanding. he handed you your mug, taking a sip of his own before speaking, “what happened? to him?”

you warmed your hands around the cup, blowing the smoke as you shrugged. “i don't really know. the last time i saw him was when he was running away from the place.” you say, nodding to yourself like you always did – a way to reassure yourself that it was okay, even when it wasn't.

kyle gave you a small smile, his hand caressing your thighs before changing the subject, not wanting to upset you by pressing it further. he was the only one who know about simon and your nightmares, just like soap was the only one that knew about you and ghost's nightmares. and it stayed like that for a while, but as soap grew impatient it all started to fall apart – or rather, fit together.

soap felt neglected. he could only have kyle when he wasn't with you, but if kyle wasn't with you that meant you were alone and no one allowed that. so soap never really had time to spend with his fellow beta, he could try and seek ghost but he was never at home anymore, and price was always at work too – it felt so unfair, that one day he argued with simon and decided that he was going to get closer to you whether he liked it or not.

it started slow, agonizingly so to soap, but he knew that it was better that way. he started tagging along when you and kyle would go out, making small comments about the things you'd buy or the food you'd order to make himself present. then he started to take you out himself. it was nice, different from when you went out with kyle. you and soap would go to the movies and to an arcade nearby, buy a sweet treat like ice cream or milkshake for you to share. it was fun in a way that made you want to go out more and they were always there when you decided to go out again.

the first time johnny got a glimpse of your scent he crumbled completely. after kyle had brought you home from a date on a friday night, you were jokingly mumbling in a sad tone that you really wanted to win the plushie displayed on the machine, but it was just so hard. both of them teased you about it and you went to sleep. on the next morning, soap woke you up to take you out for brunch and after a really nice morning filled with your laughter, he took you to a store where there were several types of plushies on display.

“c’mon, lass. pick one, will ye?” he urged, his scottish accent still something you're not used to. your eyes snapped to his, a different type of fondness swimming in them as your scent faltered slightly, soap's pupils growing wider immediately – but it's short lived, because not long you were pulling it back to a neutral one.

“can i really?” you inquire, almost suspiciously. he only laughs, pushing the small of your back so you'd walk further into the store.

“‘course, bonnie. can do anything ye want.” he stated, as if it was nothing. that day you came home with your second favorite thing – the first was a pretty sweater kyle bought for you, he had a matching one. you settled the cute plushie in your mattress, before hugging soap by his waist – it lasted just a few seconds, but it was enough for his heart to race, his hands getting sweaty. as you pushed away from the hug you allowed your natural scent to hang in the air, muttering a small ‘thank you’ before stepping back inside your room. soap hadn't shut up about it for a week.

it wasn't long before you started to feel less tired, not having to worry about your scent whenever you were with kyle and johnny – who insisted for you to start calling him that after the moment you shared in front of your room. it was getting easier to be around them, life was lighter like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders. even john, who you spend less time with, was a regular and comforting person in your routine. 

it didn't matter if you were asleep, every night without fail he would step in your nest to leave a kiss on your forehead. you'd watch matches of his favorite sport with him on sundays, and he'd let you shave his beard from time to time – bonding experiences, it was pure quality time. you didn’t talk much but it was never necessary, somehow you managed to know just what the other needed. he was the one who wanted to take you in at the very beginning, after all. he remembered how hard it was to get simon to open up, how emotionally wounded he was, and he couldn't help but want to be that person for you – he as an alpha for simon he could be an alpha for you too. that's why he offered them to be the pack that would stay with you, and he was so very glad that you accepted it. their routine with you around had become such a pleasant one, in a way none of them had anticipated. well, expect for ghost.

you've been living with them for a while, maybe two to three months since you had traveled to england, and not once have you seen him. you'd catch faint tones of his scent around, especially whenever you walked in front of the closed door of his room, but nothing other than that. the boys would show pictures of them together, but ghost always had a mask on, covering all his face – all of it but his eyes. sometimes you wonder why is it that you get so melancholic when you see those pictures or catch a sniff of his fading scent around the house. it never felt like it was enough. it was already hard not to go over the full experience of living in a pack, but to know that it was because he was denying it? you wanted to scent – properly scent – your boys. you wanted to make a big nest so you could sleep with all of them together, you wanted them to seek you. your warmth, your scent, your comfort.

you began to catch up on your own feelings very slowly, your intuition screaming more loudly in your head with each passing day. it starts one night when you can't sleep for nothing, but you also feel bad about waking one of the boys up. you decide to mask your scent well so they won't accidentally catch you wandering around the house, and sneak out of your room to the kitchen. there you start to make a cup of tea, trying as hard as you could to not make much noise. you smell him first. it comes suddenly and overbearing like when you're hit by an unexpected wave in the sea. it drowns you and your senses for a few seconds too long before you can recompose. you blink slowly once and then twice before you look up at him. he's wearing that off-putting mask like in all pictures you've seen before, his demeanor is almost rude itself and his eyes are digging daggers on yours. his eyes, the most dark shade of brown you've ever seen since simon's. simon, you think – immediately – before brushing it right out of your mind. great, you thought, that's all i needed right now, a reason to dream of simon once again.

ghost's whole body falters its movements when he sees you. he feels on edge immediately, how come he hasn't scent you in the kitchen at all? he doesn’t even have time to process what you look like because the second he steps in the kitchen he can see your eyes flickering towards him. how the hell did you smell him from so far away? his eyes are glued and stuck on yours, they seemed so familiar that he questioned if this was a deja vu. he takes a deep breath to try and get a sniff of what you smell like, but he's greeted with nothing. he huffs in annoyance, still looking at you. you exchange another glance, filled with a tension you can't quite understand before he steps backwards, all the way until he meets johnny’s door. he knew he wouldn't be able to stop thinking about you.

after that night you grew more curious, having caught a good amount of his scent to know what he smells like. it made you feel comforted in a way you didn't understand, and that prompted you to want more. you felt like you were nearly finding out what it was, at the same time it hardly felt like something at all.

kyle notices you getting lost in your thoughts more frequently than not, at the same time that johnny notices simon's urgency in staying occupied. 

“our ‘mega is acting weird,” kyle voiced out his thoughts to johnny one morning, while they were at training.

“i caught that. even asked her one day but she brushed me off. oddly, the same happened with si.” johnny answered, head tilting to the side as his thoughts came together. 

they take a moment to rest, sitting down across from each other. kyle’s eyes flickered to johnny, his eyebrows furrowing as the question grew more than obvious in his face. “do you think…?” he starts, but doesn’t finish. johnny is already shaking his head to deny it, but kyle continues to speak his mind. “she started having nightmares more frequently… says she misses her friend.”

johnny’s ears perk up at that, the words coming out of his mouth in a rush. “what friend?” he never heard about you having a friend back in the place you grew up in. he watches kyle shrug, as if it’s not important.

“they were teens when she saw him last. i think she helped him out of the orphanage, she never said much…” kyle shares honestly, not knowing how you’d feel about johnny knowing about it. “must be hard for her, since the place was in town.”

“really? where was it?” johnny couldn't help but blurt the questions out. he never asked these things to you because it felt weird to bring back such disturbing memories, but he was curious.

“dunno, never made her say it.” kyle shrugs again and they both fall in a comfortable silence, each one thinking about the things the other didn’t know about. after a pause, kyle’s eyes are fixed on a random spot as he says his final thoughts. “the only thing she said was that her friend was called simon.”

then his eyes find johnny's, and something clicks. johnny nods in agreement as they get up to their feet and make their way to their alpha’s office. there was only one way to test the theory, and that required for you and simon to grow closer to each other. it was going to be challenging, of course, but they’d get john to help and they wouldn’t get caught – at least that was what they hoped. you were more open about it then simon was, maybe they’d get you to melt his heart like you did to everyone else.

a/n: this was 4k+ words and unfinished but i decided to split it in two, which means that the third and final part is already on the way. let me know if you want to be tagged for the next part! <3 | taglist: @camcvpidd | part 3

[ashley-foster-13]

Hi! Me again, I just can't stop reading tmr headcanons. Can I request 'what would tmr boys reaction would be if their S/O got kidnapped instead of Minho.' Thank you!

What would tmr boys reaction would be if their S/O got kidnapped instead of Minho

- His s/o was not the type to throw themselves in danger

- however, when the berg showed on the horizon, they were one of the first people to put their hands on a rifle

- Thomas got there late, and there was no s/o in sight, so he figured they were safe

- until they sprang out of nowhere, trying to tackle Janson

- the nearby soldier knocked them out right away

- Thomas struggled against the two soldiers holding him down

- misplaced his shoulder in the process

- he yelled the name of his s/o so loudly he probably wouldn't be able to speak for a week

- a huge fight started, during it the kids, including his s/o were loaded in the berg and took off

- being reckless as he is, Thomas managed to keep Janson off board, beating the living hell out of him

- soldiers stopped him, but not before Ratman was half dead and bleeding

- Thomas didn't hide his tears

- was terrified Wicked would experiment on s/o, or kill, or God knows what else

- wouldn't stop thinking about how to save them

- would do anything to get them out alive

- would have dreams when he saves them and hugs and kisses them, wakes up with tears of happiness streaming down his cheecks only to realize it wasn't real and cry some more, but in fear and sadness

- after saving his s/o, Thomas is super overprotective of them

- like, every little thing, a paper cut or a bruise or a slightly different voice would make him run towards them, asking if they were okay

- eventually came back to normal

- but we all know he's soooooo caring and protective

- the moment he saw his s/o in Wicked's arms, his world stopped

- however, he got out of his stupor quickly, trying to run for you, but the soldier kicked his bad leg, causing him to fall

- when he finally managed to stand up, s/o was already gone

- he kept yelling curses at them, kept hitting those injured soldiers who were left there to die

- it helped nothing and he knew that

- honestly, he could've murdered someone if not for Minho, who held him in a tight hug until he calmed down

- his anger turned to an agony

- he was crying hard, because he was in terrible pain, physically and emotionally

- he vowed to get s/o back safe and sound

- would be the first to find them, as if he felt where they were

- didn't let go of their hand until they reached the Safe Haven

- both didn't go out of the hut for a couple of days, talking, crying and promising their love to each other

- when he barely escaped being captured by Wicked, he thought the victory was there

- little did he know they grabbed s/o instead

- s/o bravely fought the soldiers, but Minho couldn't see it

- and then his s/o stands on the berg, helplessness in their eyes as they take off

- and Minho just stands there, angry at Wicked, and furious with himself for being unable to help

- Newt and Thomas promise they'll find his s/o

- he became very grumpy after that, but also really really silent

- sometimes his bottled up feelings would unleash on everyone because of any little thing

- like a stupid question, or a fallen fork

- he wpuld be so eager to find his s/o he didn't even think when he stalked inside the Wicked headquarters fighting off every soldier like they were bugs

- he found s/o exhausted, hurt and bleeding

- but they were alive, that's all that mattered

- hugged them all the way back

- watched as the medics patched them up, controlling everything

- never leaving their side while rlthey recovered

[listofwhyyouloveher]

Hiii what would the gang do if you passed out in front of them (preferably bc you didn’t eat a lot)

Summary: The gang x a reader who passed out

Warnings: Slight mentions of an ED

Authors note: none

PONYBOY CURTIS gets frustrated when you don't take care of your health. He thinks that you're too important and you need to realize that. You pass out after a rumble, you gave it your all, and the gang was teasing you, but you could hear them over the sound of your head swimming. Ponyboy noticed and took you to his room, where you collapse unexpectedly on his bed. You woke up with him sitting on the side nervously watching over you. He scolded you, but there was more fear in his voice than anger.

JOHNNY CADE knows about your relationship with food, he knows it's delicate but he thought you were doing good recently. You passed out in front of his house on your way to meet him. When you awoke, you were nursing a nasty cut on the side of your face. His eyes were wide with fear but he didn't tell you off. He instead showed you the plate of your favorite food that he made and asked you meekly to eat it. He won't let you leave until he knows you're feeling better, then he'll walk you home and tell you to take care of yourself.

SODAPOP CURTIS doesn't understand how insecurities blossom into disorders. He always tells you that you're beautiful and such but the fact that you might need more support goes over his head. You pass out in the Curtis house while waiting for him to get ready for your date. Luckily, you were sitting so you were injured. When you wake up, Soda is frantically calling your name, yelling at Darry to help him. It takes you a while to realize what's going on and to calm him down. He gives you the biggest hug, reminding you that he can't lose you, so you have to try and take care of yourself.

STEVE RANDLE has always been super kind and helpful when it comes down to making you feel better about your insecurities, but he can't always monitor you so sometimes things slip through the cracks. You fainted while at his work, he was busy and didn't realize at first until he turned around. He got super frantic, calling Sodapop, and trying to get you to wake up. When you came back to consciousness he just took a deep breath and sat on the floor for a minute. He made you promise to tell him if things ever get that bad again because he can't handle losing you.

TWO BIT MATHEWS is certainly one of the more attentive ones. He can recognize when you're hangry or starting to crave food. He actually can't believe he didn't realize that you were that hungry that you fainted. He was cursing himself while trying to wake you up. He thought he failed you. When you came back around, he just hugged you tightly, reminding you that it's not your fault and that he's here to help you.

DARRY CURTIS doesn't eat that much either, so at first he didn't see much of an issue with your habits. However, when you passed out on his couch he got super worried, trying to dissect the whole day to know what happened. When you woke up, he helped you to your shared bed and gave you a nice warm soup to drink. From then on he makes sure to take care of you, cooking you meals that he knows you will like and making sure you never feel like you have to go without eating.

DALLAS WINSTONs diet consists of cancer sticks, dairy queen, and Bucks free liquor, so he never pays attention to what you eat. You passed out when he picked you up for a date, and he was completely shocked. He had no clue what to do, so he just called Tim Shepherd because he knew Darry would've chewed him out for not taking care of his girl or whatever. You woke up on Tim's couch while they were talking softly. Tim was explaining why you might have passed out, and Dallas sat there quietly. When he realized you were awake, he shook his head at Tim to get him to shut up. Then he carefully helped you up and asked if you wanted to go to Dairy Queen.

[kissmeizuku]

"Jealous." Bakugo x Reader

Y/N and Bakugo were dating.

But not so happily.

Bakugo NEVER showed them affection. In fact, sometimes he even told them that he hated them. But deep down, he'd do anything for them.

He loves them more than anything.If they were killed? Bakugo's also dead.

If they were upset? Bakugo's already marching out into the common room with a chainsaw, yelling at everyone asking who hurt them.

Bakugo started noticing how Y/N was slowly growing closer to Izuku. Bakugo didn't want to admit it, but he knows that Izuku likes them, and they probably like Izuku.

Bakugo doesn't want to lose Y/N, but he knows he probably deserves it with how he treats them.

One particularly okay day, which was quickly turned into a horrible day, he walked into the common room, seeing Y/N asleep, cuddled up against stupid Deku while Deku smiled and stroked their hair gently.

His eyes narrowed instantly, his fists clenching as he stepped forward.

He didn't say a word.

Just stared at the scene before him.

His jaw tightening.

Then, without warning, he kicked the couch hard enough to send it skidding across the floor. "Baka! What the hell do you think you're doing?!" He snarled, his voice laced with fury and something else—

Jealousy.

His gaze locked onto Izuku, his red eyes blazing.

"Get your damn hands off them."

He took a step closer, his breathing heavy, his body coiled like a spring ready to snap.

"You think you can just... touch them? They're mine."

The words came out harsher than he intended, but he couldn't take them back now. Not yet.

His voice was low, dangerous, and filled with uncontrollable rage.

He could feel the heat rising in his chest—not just from anger, but from something deeper, something he refused to name.

His fingers twitched, itching to unleash an explosion, but he held back, forcing himself to stay still. For once, he wasn’t sure what to do.

"You don’t get it, do you?" he muttered, voice harsh.

"Their not yours. They never were." He turned his glare toward Y/N, who was stirring slightly in their sleep, unaware of the storm brewing around them.

His heart pounded in his ears, and for a moment, he felt like the world was closing in on him. He wanted to scream, to destroy everything, but instead, he clenched his teeth and forced himself to speak again, quieter this time.

He took a shaky breath, trying to steady himself, but the sight of stupid Deku holding them made his vision blur with frustration.

He hated this feeling—the helplessness, the rage.

The fear that he might actually lose Y/N.

He had spent so long pushing them away, pretending he didn’t care, but now it was too late.

"Get. Off. Them."

He said it again, louder this time, his voice cracking slightly. He didn’t know why he was still standing there, why he hadn’t just blown the whole damn place up. Maybe because part of him hoped they’d wake up and see him first.

That maybe, just maybe, they'd realize he truly loved them.

"Or I’ll make you regret it."

He didn’t mean it as a threat—he meant it as a promise.

[selliqxrt]

DON’T TOUCH HIM

Mafia Harry x OC

Characters Count: 10,856

Summary: Dahlia’s the daughter of the mafia boss, and Harry is her father’s protégé. Soon he will take the place of the new boss, and she will has to become his wife. Her father is cruel and has no mercy.

Warnings: B!ood, v!olence.

—

The mafia isn't a place for cowards. Isn’t a place for the faint of heart. This world breaks you, dragging out the darkest and wildest aspects of your inner self. No one escapes the water dry; no one escapes the crushing influence of this world.

The Underworld — that's what I call the organization I was born and raised in. A kingdom of fear and death. And one day, I will become its new king. That's what I strive for. What I've been working towards for the past several years. I've become the most worthy of the younger generation in the clan, and now I continue my fight for power and a seat on the throne.

My father was so happy when our boss announced me as his successor, his protege. Lucas Tenney was a great man. The one who brought this clan to complete dominance. His name shook walls, instilled all-consuming terror in people. A devil in human skin. But even the devil needs an heir. To the great sorrow of the entire clan, Lucas' wife didn't manage to give birth to a son before death took her from our boss. It was a great loss for all of us, but especially for Lucas. It seemed as if rage and anger clouded his mind, turning him into a true beast, and only his daughter kept him in check.

Dahlia Tenney — the mafia princess and the boss's only child. She was beautiful, like a blossoming rose. One look from her could kill a hundred men, leaving them lying on the spot. Dahlia was the most closely guarded jewel, and only the boss's inner circle was allowed near her. And I was lucky enough to be one of them.

I underwent my training under the strict guidance and supervision of Lucas. He personally attended every lesson, controlling the process. They were turning me into a deadly machine without feelings or emotions. Gruelling training in the gym sapped my strength, developing inhuman endurance. By the age of 17, I was already in pretty impressive shape. But even hours spent alone with iron didn't seem as terrible to me. The real hell began later, under the cover of night, when most people were luxuriating in their beds or having sweet dreams. I, on the other hand, spent my nights in the boss's house. It probably sounds good, but the reality was terrible.

Every night I came to the basement. A terrible, horrifying basement, steeped in blood and torment. Who would have thought that this house contained a real torture and punishment chamber. A place more terrible than any nightmare people had ever seen. The clan doesn't need a weak and unworthy boss. The clan doesn't need a coward who falters at the sight of blood. That's why I was here, to be broken, burned, and reborn from the ashes, stripped of feelings and soul. Sometimes the sessions in the basement didn't inflict physical pain on me, breaking my mind instead. I still remember how hard it was to hold a gun pointed at an innocent man. My hands trembled, and my heart ached at the realization of what I had to do. I pulled the trigger without looking at the man, and only his last breath, which reached my ears, testified to my act. His frightened and doomed look was still in my dreams, causing me to wake up in a cold sweat.

But even that didn't scare me as much as the torture and punishments that my body was subjected to almost every night. I knew what it was all for. A way to rid me of weakness, a way to rid me of the sensation of pain. But even that realization didn't make those nights any easier or more bearable.

It wasn't just a duty; it was my obligation. I'm not a simple soldier; I'm the chosen one, the future boss. The future king of the Underworld. But every king needs a queen, doesn't he? My queen should be Dahlia. A girl possessing the appearance of a fairy and the character of a true soldier. I was lucky to be one of those allowed near Lucas's daughter. Our first meeting happened completely by chance.

Before my very first lesson in the basement, where I endured true agony, I was left waiting in the living room for the boss. I was fifteen, and I examined his possessions with curiosity. It was then that I saw her. She was descending the old spiral staircase like a damn goddess. Her body was hidden beneath a ridiculous and silly bunny pyjama set—completely unbefitting the status of a mafia princess. Dahlia was slightly older than me, but she already knew more about this business than any of us. Lucas made sure his daughter wouldn’t be just another spoiled, foolish doll. Dahlia was smart and incredibly cunning, even back then, years ago. A conversation sparked between us, though it was more like an exchange of barbs. But that was what ignited the spark between us.

Dahlia was the one who cared for me after especially brutal sessions in the basement. Lucas’s men left me there, tied to a chair. Bleeding, I sat there utterly powerless, occasionally letting out sharp breaths that pierced the complete silence of the basement. She would find me in that state nearly half an hour later. Each time, I looked no better than before, but she never showed fear or disgust. With her tiny hands, Dahlia carefully untied the ropes from my wrists, rubbing the red skin to restore blood flow. A completely innocent gesture that made my heart flutter every time.

I don’t know how, but this strong little woman always dragged me to her room to clean my wounds and stop the bleeding. Dahlia let me rest on her bed, covered with silk sheets, and those were always the best hours of the night. Her gentle hands played with my sweaty, tangled curls as I drifted off in her room. I don’t know whether it was simple pity or compassion, but back then, I cared little.

Years passed, and I became more and more like the soulless machine Lucas Tenney wanted me to be. Only one feeling settled deeply in my chest: love.

It took years before my relationship with Dahlia turned into something more. Nights after lessons were no longer just about helping the injured. No. Her touches awakened feelings inside me I didn’t even know existed. Her hands wandered over my bare skin, sending electric shocks throughout my body. I saw her chest rise with heavy breaths. Dahlia’s eyelashes fluttered, and her gaze lingered on my lips, making us both crave more.

One such night, I couldn’t stop myself. I kissed the mafia princess and didn’t regret it at all. My bruised lips closed over hers in a slow, languorous kiss. My free hand rested on her cheek, tucking silky strands behind her ear. It was utterly intimate and so sensual. Nothing like the kisses I shared with random girls.

Between us was a deep, intimate connection. Our lips moved in a slow, synchronized dance, and my hands traced a slow path from her cheek to her slender waist. I possessively squeezed her flesh, drawing a soft sigh from her lips right into my mouth. That night, we didn’t go further. No. We spent several hours exploring each other’s lips, and it was absolutely magical.

That memory still awakens so many feelings and emotions within me. I continue to cling to it as the last piece of my humanity. Of course, this bond was hard to hide from her father. Lucas punished me for a long time after catching us in another kiss. But soon his anger gave way to mercy, and Dahlia was publicly announced as my fiancée—the fiancée I would have when I ascended the throne. I will never forget how our boss confessed to me that I was the only one he trusted with his daughter.

Dahlia became my anchor. The thing that keeps me grounded every time, pushing me to work three times harder. I found new motivation, and now I won’t stop until she is mine.

Time marched on, and my training intensified, becoming increasingly brutal and merciless. This only served to agitate Dahlia more and more. She didn't understand that this was the only way for us. I had to be strong; I had to endure for her, for our future. My heart shattered each time I saw the tears tracing paths down her cheeks. I loathed making my girl cry, but she would get through this. She had to.

Today’s punishment, however, became almost unbearable. I could barely breathe. My entire body was aflame with agony, forcing me to writhe in torment. But they didn't stop. No. They seemed to become even harsher, seeking more sophisticated methods of tormenting me, and Lucas was observing. I was weakened. My screams, which had been nearly incessant for hours, could now turned into a pained groan, my teeth clenched tight.

I swear to God, another few minutes, and I would start begging for death. The fists of two hulking men continued to slam into my flesh, knocking the breath from my body. I'd stopped even thinking about liberation. It seemed as though it would never end when I heard a loud gunshot.

Everything froze inside me with fear and despair. But to my surprise, I didn't feel the sting of a bullet, and life didn't flash before my eyes. I was alive?

I opened my eyes, and a loud gasp of astonishment escaped my lips. Dahlia stood on the stairs that led to the exit from the basement. My brave girl was holding a gun pointed at her father. Lord, she was aiming at her own father.

"Enough, Father, don't touch him," tears streamed down her cheeks, but her gaze burned with fury and unwavering resolve.

Lucas looked completely calm, as if his daughter's outburst didn’t concern him at all.

"Put down the gun, kiddo. That toy isn't for you," Lucas Tenney knew his daughter wouldn’t shoot. We all knew that Dahlia wouldn’t shoot.

She was a true daddy's girl. Dahlia adored her father; she wouldn’t kill him for anything. Not even for me. She knew it herself. In an instant, she flipped the gun, pointing the barrel at herself.

Blood froze in my veins, and I experienced an inhuman fear. The fear of losing the only person who had any meaning. Adrenaline gave me strength, and I desperately tried to break free from the ropes that enveloped my entire body.

"Dahlia!" My voice was hoarse, full of despair and horror. But she didn't even glance at me.

Lucas flinched, displaying fear in front of others for the first time. He raised his hands in a calming gesture. We were both afraid of losing this girl. The boss’s voice was quiet, but I heard the fear:

"Sweetheart, lower the gun, and we'll talk."

"Don't touch him," Dahlia repeated, pressing the barrel to her temple.

"Alright. Alright. Guys, untie him," Lucas gave the order without even turning his head toward his men.

The two brutes approached me, untangling the complex knots and removing the ropes. My arms fell limply, and I felt the blood begin to rush back into my limbs. Dahlia threw the gun on the floor, and a couple of seconds later, her small body fell on her knees before me. Her hands clasped my wrists, beginning to rub the skin in their familiar manner.

"Hey, hey, love. You're alright now, it's all going to be okay," her voice was so gentle and quiet, so soothing. I allowed myself to close my eyes, dissolving in her touch.

In that moment, I fully realized the depth of my feelings for this girl.

—

I apologise for the mistakes in the text. The text was written in another language and I really had difficulties with the translation this time. I hope you enjoyed it🙏🏼 And thanks to everyone who read this fic before it was published

—

Taglist: @tillyshouse @hontpwk @sincerely-yours-marsbar @nanaisinmars @kateluvshaz @tpwkmr @cherryberrystompers @merylittlefreak @fratboyrryy @stylessupermqcy @alex-voiddome @avensgreenvans @hazstyle @martha-rwng @tpwkdpr @patriwxlls @bookworm336699 @dykwyachrissy @cherrycherry444 @isastyles @harrystyleshotwife @littlebvnnyhs @onedirection-vvvvv @pops234 @harrieskissesx @chalmtloui @tpwkbanana @pawmpkinnn @littlefreakava @angelinplaid @fallingwillow @ilove-1d

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[paulyenvol6]

To Lose Yourself (Chapter 5)

Contains: angst, mentions of non con intercourse, Daemon being manipulative and an asshole, mentions of arranged marriage

Wordcount: 2,963

Masterlist of this story

The next day Anissa woke up with a headache that suggested that she had drunken alcohol the day before and made her forget about the sin she had committed the night before until the image of the naked prince to her left reminded her.

She pressed a hand on her mouth almost immediately breaking down and could only just hold back the tears. It seemed even worse now.

Any minute a servant or even worse a member of the royal family could demand entrance and then everything would fall apart. She felt so helpless all of a sudden, rolling on her side and staring at the wall. She could get up and leave the room but to what end? Daemon had already announced that he would inform her father of what had happened and Anissa couldn't just flee from her problems and go where? But lying here like this did nothing for her panic because it seemed like she only enhanced her fear by getting lost in her own thoughts and so without giving it a second thought she shook Daemon's shoulder to wake him up.

The prince moaned loudly turning to his side to escape her grip but Anissa wasn't comfortable with being alone with her thoughts and although she knew that Daemon couldn't help her in any way she was even more frightened lying here unable to do anything.

"Seven hells," Daemon growled pressing his face in the cushions but Anissa didn't give up.

"Wake up. Please," she whined and he actually blinked a few times and then looked her up and down.

"What is it?"

She was caught off guard with his question and for a moment was speechless about how unbothered he was by all of this.

"What are we going to do now? We have to get up and-and… I don't know, just… We have to do something."

Daemon chuckled quietly letting his head drop back in the softness of the pillow and yawned open-mouthedly.

"I didn't know you were that eager to tell your father that you've lost your precious maidenhead to me. But alright, if you wanna do it now…"

Anissa quickly shook her head sitting up on the bed and grabbed his upper arm.

"I'm not. But… But we have to do something. It would be even worse if my father searches for me and finds me… here."

"Here? You mean with your husband-to-be?"

The girl dropped her head looking down to her folded hands and the corner of his mouth twitched.

"Come here, little one," he said lowly but met with rejection. Anissa stubbornly shook her head and didn't even flinch when Daemon sat up straight as well.

"Alright. You wanna know what we're going to do now?"

She slightly nodded but still refused to look at him.

"Perhaps I'll send for your father. I'm eager for him to hear it straight from me, if I'm being honest with you."

Daemon laughed tilting his head and then pushed back the blanket to get off the bed. He started to get dressed while Anissa remained on the bed thinking about his words.

"Do I have to be there when you tell him?" she eventually whispered in a volume that was barely audible but once he realized what she had said he chuckled again looking amused.

"Of course. Do you think your dear father would believe me?"

She didn't answer for a while but then eventually raised her gaze again her round eyes flicking frightendly.

"I'm really scared to tell him," she said with a thin voice and this time Daemon decided to approach her.

He kneeled in front of the terrified girl taking both her small hands in his and made sure he had her attention when he cleared his throat.

"I know you are. But there's no way around it and I know that sounds horrifying but I promise you it's gonna be better than if you're alone with him when he confronts you about it. I'll be with you and his anger will be directed at me for the most part. Your father hates me and he's certainly going to attack me instead of you."

Anissa was almost surprised because she had expected another mocking and sarcastic reply from him but when she thought about it, his words actually made sense. Mayhaps her father would see her for what she was, victim of Daemon's assault and focus on cursing him rather than blaming her for having been corrupted by him. Therefore the girl chewed on her lip and then nodded.

"Can we get over with it then?" she asked quietly and Daemon smirked, stood up and kissed her forehead.

"Good girl."

Only 5 minutes later nothing of that previous eagerness to get over it with as quickly as possible was left and Anissa was a shivering mess.

Daemon had sent a servant to tell Otto that he wished to see him in his chambers and waiting for her father was torture. A part of her wished that he was otherwise occupied but at the same time she knew that speaking to him was inevitable. So she walked up and down the room scratching her temple as though she would come up with a solution that way in order to avoid the uncomfortable encounter while Daemon sat on a chair, his legs crossed looking like he had never been more at peace.

When there was a knock on the door Anissa jumped taking a large step away from the door and towards the bed while the prince slowly rose to his feet. She glanced at the bed from the corner of her eyes, the scarlett red blood stains on the bed sheets showing additional proof of what had happened in this room last night and with a heaviness in both her stomach and on her heart she folded her hands in front of her belly.

Daemon leaned against the table as he cleared his throat and then demanded her father to enter the room. Seeing him almost instantly brought tears to her eyes but she nervously blinked and swallowed trying to get a hold on herself.

Otto's eyes narrowed when he took in the scene before his eyes and Anissa could almost hear his brain working behind his forehead. He stared at her and Daemon but fortunately he wasn't able to see the bed sheets yet so perhaps the explosion would be a little delayed.

"What is this? Why was I brought here and what are you doing here, daughter?" he asked crossing his arms in front of his chest looking somewhere between worried and angry.

Daemon pursed his lips unable to hide the smugness on his face as he slowly approached Otto circling him like a wild animal observing his prey.

"You're asking just the right questions, dear Otto."

His opposite squeezed his eyes his gaze flickering between his daughter and the rogue prince and Anissa took yet another step back until the back of her wobbly knees hit the edge of the bed, hoping she would magically melt with the bed and flee this torment.

"Daughter. What happened?"

His expression definitely shifted now into looking concerned and it filled Daemon with satisfaction to the brim. This was everything he had hoped for and it would get even better once he announced the happy news to Otto.

"Let us phrase it like this… You're daughter and I had an interesting encounter last night… One that is going to fuel new political developments as it seems."

The cease between his brows deepened and he made a move towards Daemon.

"What? Speak clearly, at once. What happened?"

A wide smirk formed on Daemon's face taking in each and every last of the little twitches in his enemy's face with delight and then he sighed and rested against the table behind him.

"I fucked your daughter."

Silence.

Silence that was so loud Anissa felt like covering her ears.

Her eyes were round as coins as she precisely stared at her father so scared what he might do or say now that the truth was out. She wished she could somehow throw herself between them, take the words Daemon had just said so elegantally and put them back in his mouth but it was too late for that although she couldn't see any changes in her father's face at first. That was until his top lip twitched and his hands clenched into fists.

"You fucking liar," he hissed taking another step forward but the prince was unimpressed raising his chin slightly.

"You think I would lie? With the only other witness right next to me?"

Daemon glared at Anissa which made her want to throw up because now was the first time her father put his eyes on her.

"Or do you think she's a liar too?"

Sheer terror marked Otto's face and for a moment she feared that she might actually throw up. But apparently her father didn't believe the truth yet because he turned to Daemon once more grabbing the collar of his shirt and pushing him against the edge of the table.

"You filthly fucking liar. My daughter would never let a bastard like you touch her. You think you can walk around here provoking me because it's the only attention you get from anyone in this fucking court? Do whatever you want but don't you ever sully my daughter's name like this again. Don't you ever even put her name in your mouth again."

In response Daemon laughed but didn't attempt to free himself from his grip.

"Go on, Anissa. Tell your father. Don't get all shy now."

She couldn't.

She simply couldn't because she feared what might happen if she opened her mouth. She would either empty her stomach on the carpet or break down crying and neither of it was what Daemon was expecting of her. So she pressed her lips together her whole body quivering but when Otto's gaze wandered to her again he seemed to understand the seriousness of the situation and loosened his grip around Daemon's shirt to walk to his daughter and embrace her in a hug.

"This is not true, Anissa, right? Is he trying to defile your name at court?" his airy voice whispered in her ear and by now tears streamed down her face.

"Daughter. You can say that it didn't happen, he won't be able to come forward with this lie."

She shook her head her hands clinging to her father's cloak and Anissa realized that she had never felt worse in her entire life. Even feeling Daemon entering her last night hadn't been as horrible as this.

"I-It's t-true," she sobbed and expected him not to comprehend her words but Otto tightened his grip around her body kissing her hair.

"No, daughter. Did he force you to lie? You don't have to lie to me, I'm your father and I'm going to protect you. No matter what he told you, you have to tell the truth now."

Daemon had watched the scene from the table but now cleared his throat as he came a little closer.

"Show him, Anissa. Go on, now."

Despite wanting to rather die right now she pulled away from her father instantly dropping her gaze and turned to the bed. She set one foot in front of the other making out the short way until her hands reached the edge of the bed and she pulled back the blanket revealing the evidence of her sins. The red looked aggressive, accusingly almost and for some reason she couldn't look away and see her father's reaction which probably was better for her. Because the next thing she heard was a loud growl and then Anissa saw Otto attacking Daemon who, since he was a trained warrior, obviously had no problems keeping him off him and just chuckled at his attempts.

"You fucking bastard. You evil fucking bastard, I'm gonna – "

"Save your powers, Otto. You're going to need them when you see me wedding your precious daughter under the eyes of the gods. Perhaps there even will be a bedding ceremony… Would you like that, mhm?"

Otto's nostrils flared almost as if smoke was about to leak out.

"You're never going to marry my daughter. I will never allow it you son of a bitch."

The prince rolled his eyes but looked more than amused clearly enjoying every second of this conversation.

"This is beyond your wishes, dear Otto. Haven't you understand that yet? She's mine now. I took her fucking maidenhead and now she's mine to wed, mine to bed and mine to do with however I like. She's not going to obey to you from now on, but to me."

Otto's facade crumbled his nails digging into the palms of his own hands so deep that his knuckles turned white. Perhaps he now understood that this wasn't just another of Daemon's jests and mockings but a serious threat to his own family.

"How could you, you fucking bastard!" His voice had gotten louder towards the end of his sentence and he had pushed Daemon away from him walking to Anissa who had sat down on the edge of the bed her head dropped to her chest.

"And you. Have you lost your fucking mind?"

She shook her head over and over again insisting on the truth while pleadingly looked up to her father.

"Please… Father, please, I never wanted this to happen. It was not my fault. Please you have to be believe me."

The strike across her face came suddenly and intensely and doubled the amount of wetness streaming down her flushed face.

"You want to call yourself a nobelwoman of this family?" his voice roared in her ear her whole body trembling and shaking with fear of her father. Her loving and kind father who had always protected and supported her and now flashed his eyes at her like she was vermin.

"You've ruined yourself AND our family name. You behaved like a common whore and now all of us, your sister, you and I will have to live with the consequences of this."

This was a nightmare. A terrible dream that made her head dizzy and her hands sweaty.

"B-But I didn't want it. Please don't be angry at me, I t-told him to stop b-but he raped me."

"Raped you? I think that's a rather radical way of saying it…" Daemon approached father and daughter watching them arrogantly examining Anissa's face.

"You know, Otto, I had feeling that your daughter was going to… enjoy it."

Well aware of what he was referring to she shook her head begging him with her eyes not to reveal the sinful words she had written in her diary. All of this was a catastrophe already and she didn't need her father to know about how long she had desired the rogue prince and that a rotten part of her had found so much pleasure in his touch. It looked like Daemon was thinking and he slightly tilted his head at her.

"Please," she mouthed tears glistening in her eyes and as cruel and wicked as he was the image moved him.

He did care about her after all and seeing her pleading and begging him like that did not only fuel a desire to claim and own her but also the wish to do something to make her happy. And so he chose not to end the sentence and instead leave it uncompleted because right now it seemed like Otto didn't believe her anyway.

"This is not going to happen," Otto claimed once more raising his finger at Daemon. "She's going to marry a nobleman from a good house soon and you… you shall be damned."

Daemon sighed almost as if he was genuinely disappointed in him and thoughtfully bit his lip.

"Do I really have to remind you of our laws and customs? Your daughter is mine. Should we just head straight to my brother so he can confirm the union?"

As quick as the wind and most certainly impressive for his age Otto jumped to his feet rushing towards Daemon.

"What do you want?" he pressed grabbing his opponent's shoulder. "What do you want me to do or say so we can all forget that this has ever happened? Do you want me to beg you on my fucking knees, huh? Is that what it's gonna take to put an end to your stupid little games?"

Looking all unbothered the prince furrowed his forehead speeringly pursing his lips.

"I want her. And I'm gonna have her."

Otto shrunked dropping his shoulders and rubbed over his chin aimlessly walking around the room while mumbling to himself. Then all of the sudden he stopped turning to Anissa and gesturing her to rise.

"Come. At once."

The way she glared at Daemon first almost as though she was asking for his permission filled him with pride and satisfaction and he was sure that it hadn't escaped Otto's notice as well.

"Anissa," he repeated and then once her weak knees had carried her to her father he grabbed her arm dragging her towards the door.

"Ow," she complained writhing in his grip but Otto paid no attention to her, his only aim being to escape Daemon's presence as quickly as possible.

Her head painfully throbbed and the insides of her stomach were still twisting and turning while asking herself what her father intended to do now.

He seemed lost in his thoughts utterly ignoring his anxious daughter and Anissa was too scared to demand to know what would happen next, figuring that he might burst with anger if she drew his attention to her.

~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist:

@archerxnn @calmingmelody96 @aleemendoza2425-blog @madeinmyownmind-blog

[pauleentology]

Ben Clark's trauma🩷

His mischaracterization is literally crazy bro especially on those Wattpad fanfictions I cannot bring myself to finish any of them because they all portray ben as the big quiet dude😖 he is so much more than that oms

Trauma analysis

in my honest opinion, Ben had the worst backstory ever of all of them like it was literally so brutal and for WHATTTTTT (jk red knows how much i like traumatized teenagers)

Imagine being judged by your appearance and not being able to make much friends because of being too "intimidating" just because of your size, and being judged for how you express yourself because it isn't what others expected of you to do, then ultimately being bullied for it just because your appearance didn't match your personality.

Imagine being feared by everyone and persistently being offered by bully-groups and punks to join them because all they see in you is a weapon and not a human being all because your size isn't that of your age?? Finally building up the courage to show everybody that you're more than just the dangerous giant they see you as and actually perform, but they choose not to listen to your voice and focus on why somebody of your size is singing instead of fighting and slacking because they're just that shallow.

Then at 12 years old having that one thing you love most taken from you because you refused to become something you're not, losing your way of expression, spiraling into depression not long after.

The moment he wakes up in the hospital, trying to speak or say anything but all that comes out is broken words and strained breaths. How disgusted he must've been after hearing his shattered voice for the first time— that his greatest treasure just slipped away from him like that, and the thought that he would never be able to sing again slowly settling in.

Being so blinded by rage and having that much anger inside of you that you just give up on controlling it and let it all out in forms of street fighting and brawling, becoming so numb and addicted to the sensation that you can't bring yourself to stop no matter how much you want to.

Coming home from school to see his house set in flames from spite of a fight HE started. Seeing his parents and little sister grieving over the loss of their home— all because of him and his rage.

The realization creeping in that you've become the one thing that you swore to never be. That all the pain and beatings you endured, all in vain because you gave in anyway. You gave in on your own volition. The hate he must've felt towards himself because he was the cause of their pain. Seeing himself as a monster. Realizing how much people he'd hurt because of his lack of self-control and rage.

The day his parents broke to him the news that he'd be staying at his cousin's house for the time being, thinking that they didn't want him around anymore. Him thinking that he was so dangerous his own parents had to ship him off someplace else. He'd hurt everyone around him, and it took so much for him to realize it. He'd look at himself in the mirror— and instead of seeing the innocent little boy what he saw instead was a rage-filled monster everyone feared but this time for good reason. How he'd lost himself completely, and there's nothing he can do to undo everything that happened.

How scared he must've felt that he might hurt Aiden's family too like he hurt everybody around him, and how much he hated himself for not being able to control it.

Finding comfort and belonging with Aiden again for the first time in forever— a newfound peace and purpose after picking up multiple hobbies and a new kind of happiness after meeting the SBG group. Buttttt at the cost of having to brush with death every single night and watch two of his friends die— imagine how he felt when they were talking about how they could be becoming phantoms, how it would all happen again. The feeling of becoming the one thing you sought to destroy and having no control over it was all too familiar to him. The fear he must've felt realizing that everything from his past would repeat itself this way, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Nobody ever talks about his reaction during Aiden's death. Watching his cousin and bestfriend get crushed by a ceiling right in front of him and not being able to do anything since he was still covering Tyler. The cousin that took you into their home, understood you, stayed with you, and saw you as a normal human being rather than a dangerous giant. The person that was able to finally make you feel what it felt to belong for the first time in your life— and watching that person die infront of you. And he just had to stay there— he couldn't do anything to save him. After all, he never could.

The constant reminder that he had no control over anything in his life.

[tsotg]

The Monster Hunter and the Hunted Monster

I thought of another universe I might wanna make content for. I know a lot of people already have this type of AU already but I can't resist making my own ;;-;;

Imagine Hiccup has been hunting Jack for ages. Jack has been one of the few creatures he's never been able to catch and that type of challenge is exhilarating. So he keeps trying to find him, luring him out with the threat of harm to his precious forest.

One day, for a reason or another, Pitch curses them both. They're both lost and trapped in a new and un familiar environment. Hiccup is overjoyed that he's finally able to catch Jack when they bump into each other but that feeling doesn't last long. They're both kind of terrified of where they are but won't show it to each other, instead letting it out as anger towards each other.

A few days into their banishment, Hiccup gets desperate. There's no animals to hunt, nothing to grow, he's starving and it doesn't seem like he's gonna get any food any time soon. So he goes to Jack and begs to know how he's not hungry. Jack replies with how he obviously doesn't get hungry because he's a spirit.

Hiccup breaks in front of him, he tells him how scared he is and how much he wants to go back home. Jack gets surprised, of all people, he would've never expected Hiccup to show this much vulnerability.

Jack feels the same as he does, he's scared and he wants to go home. And after settling down and making sure Hiccup isn't trying to trick him, he tells him so.

They talk about how much they love their home, about anything that comes to mind really. Until Hiccup has a fainting spell. Jack hurries to help him but has no idea how humans work anymore. He's been in his forest for so long.

When Hiccup wakes up, Jack asks him what happened. Hiccup reminds him how hungry he is and how little energy his body has. Jack hesitates before telling Hiccup how he has saved people lost in the forest in the same situation before but he's not gonna like how it's done.

Hiccup brushes it off, it can't be that bad right?

Jack presses his lips together in an awkward smile.

"Well- Not a lot of people get lost in the woods you know. And the children can see and hear me no problem. They follow the animals out of the forest. I've only done this twice and the first time I didn't even know I could do it so it wasn't super successful..."

"Just spit it out, if you can save me, do it. I want to go home after we get out of this shit hole."

Jack thought about telling him for a second but he doubted Hiccup would let him after hearing of the process.

"Ok, close your eyes then."

"Why?"

"It'll be easier for the both of us."

So Hiccup closed his eyes after giving Jack an eye roll. Jack took Hiccup's chin, opening his mouth slightly, braced himself and leaned in. As soon as their lips connected, Hiccup jumped in surprise and tried to push Jack away but couldn't find the strength in time before he realized what was happening.

This wasn't just a kiss, Jack's eyes glowed and his skin slowly lost the little colour it had left. He was transferring his energy to Hiccup. And Hiccup felt alive again. He leaned in slightly and enjoyed the feeling this gave him. Until he felt Jack's grasp on him weakened and he regained he train of thought again.

Jack took a second to snap out of the daze this put him in. Hiccup feared for a the worst for a second before Jack blinked a few times and his eyes went back to normal. He looked around for a second, almost looking as if he had no idea where he was. His eyes locked onto Hiccup and fear crept onto his expression. Hiccup felt him tense up in his arms. And then just like that, he took a breath for the first time since Hiccup closed his eyes and he looked normal again.

"For the Gods, if you told me this was gonna kill you I wouldn't have let you to do it!" Hiccup scolded.

"I didn't know it would do that. It never did in my forest." Jack looked off in the distance to ponder for a bit before what Hiccup said actually registered in his head. "Wait you're worried about me?"

"That's not the point."

"Yes it is!"

Jack gave Hiccup as teasing grin. Hiccup completely disconnected from the conversation and got up. Jack couldn't hold back, he kept teasing Hiccup as he tried to walk away.

"Well look who's feeling better." Hiccup tried to say it in a sarcastic tone but couldn't hold back a small smile.

==============

RAHHH PLEASE tell me if you wanna read more!! I will write more! And maybe I'll draw some better art of these gays.

[heliosunny]

Yandere! Nikolai Gogol x Reader

For as long as you can remember, you were a piece in Fyodor Dostoyevsky’s grand design. Not a mere underling, nor just a tool, no, you were something far more valuable. Your mind was sharp, your instincts honed. You had a talent for reading between the lines, predicting moves before they happened. A strategist, an asset, an extension of his will. Fyodor never let you stray far from his side, his quiet presence a constant shadow in your life. You convinced yourself you were there by choice. That your loyalty was rewarded, that you had a place in his world. That you mattered.

Then Nikolai Gogol came along and shattered that illusion with a laugh.

The scent of lavender.

It drifts through the dimly lit room, weaving through the cold air like an unseen hand. Your head throbs, limbs sluggish as you stir. Instinct kicks in, your first thought is where am I? followed immediately by where is he?

Colorful silk ribbons bind your wrists, soft yet unyielding, looped elegantly around the arms of a plush chair. Not chains. Not rope.

A chuckle, light and amused, dances through the air.

"Ah, you’re awake~”

Nikolai.

Your pulse pounds as you lift your gaze, meeting mismatched eyes that shine with an unsettling mix of delight and something deeper, something dangerous.

"You drugged me." you state, voice hoarse but steady.

He places a gloved hand over his heart, gasping dramatically. "Oh dear, you wound me! That makes it sound so… malicious." He leans in, voice dropping into a lilting whisper. "Let’s say I simply helped you ...relax."

Your fingers curl against the silk restraints. "Where is Fyodor?"

At that though just for only a second, his grin falters. Then he’s laughing again, loud and unrestrained, as if you had just told the funniest joke in the world.

"Fedya, Fedya, Fedya! Always him!" Nikolai twirls his cane, the motion smooth and effortless. "You’ve been playing his game for so long. Aren’t you tired of being his little bishop? His queen, even? Moving only when he says, thinking only within his rules?"

You glare at him. "I chose to be by his side."

He hums, tapping his cane against his shoulder. "Did you, though? Did you really????"

You refuse to answer.

Nikolai’s grin stretches. "See, that’s why I had to take you! You don’t even realize you’re wearing chains. But don’t worry, dear, your favorite magician is here to set you free!"

Days pass in a blur of surreal performances.

Nikolai does not chain you to a wall, does not beat you, does not scream or demand. Instead, he plays.

He sets up elaborate illusions, making rooms shift, turning halls into endless mazes where every door leads back to him. He leaves riddles scrawled on parchment, their answers unlocking meals, books, fresh clothes. He performs tricks, disappearing and reappearing at will, plucking silk scarves from thin air, spinning knives between his fingers.

"You look so bored, little dove" he sighs one evening, perched on the edge of your chair. "Shall I make something disappear? How about your patience? No? Your hope, then?"

"Give me back my freedom!" you retort.

He taps his chin, then beams. "Now, that’s a tricky one! How can I return something you never had?"

You turn away.

And yet… the fear that clawed at you in the beginning has dulled. The first few days, you had screamed at him, fought him, demanded to be let go. But Nikolai never raised his voice, never showed anger. He only smiled and spoke in circles until exhaustion seeped into your bones.

You begin to learn his patterns.

He thrives on reaction. On chaos. If you lash out, he laughs. If you ignore him, he makes his presence impossible to disregard. If you remain passive, he grows bored, but boredom, you realize, makes him dangerous.

So, you do what you must. You play along.

"You’re a lunatic" you mutter one day, watching him juggle knives while balancing on one foot.

"Ah, but I’m your lunatic now, aren’t I?"

You don’t answer.

You wake up to find the door unlocked.

Your pulse jumps. This has never happened before. A mistake? A test? Cautiously, you step out. The hallway stretches empty before you. You take one step. Then another. Then you run.

The exit is close. So close. Your fingers graze the handle. Then, a gloved hand clamps over yours.

"Now, now, little dove" Nikolai croons from behind, his grip firm but gentle. "You know I can’t let you do that."

Your breath comes in sharp pants. "Why?"

His fingers tighten just slightly. Not enough to hurt. Just enough to remind.

"Because" he murmurs, voice soft, "I don’t want to make you disappear too."

You look up, meeting his mismatched gaze. For the first time, beneath the playfulness, the teasing, the theatrics, there is something raw. Something desperate.

"You wouldn’t" you whisper, though doubt creeps in.

Nikolai smiles. "I would. But wouldn’t it be so much more fun to stay, little dove? To see what happens next?"

For the first time… you hesitate.

He is chaos and control. A contradiction wrapped in silk and steel. And you, after so long under Fyodor’s shadow, are starting to feel like you’re standing in the spotlight of something entirely different.

"You’re learning" Nikolai hums one evening, tilting your chin up with a single finger. "Maybe one day, you’ll want to stay of your own accord~"

You swallow hard. "I just want space. My own life."

His grin softens, just barely. "Ah, but you see" he whispers, pressing a kiss to your forehead, "you’re already a part of mine."

You’ve been here long enough to know Nikolai never falters.

He is a whirlwind, always laughing, always moving. If he isn’t performing illusions, he’s making riddles, teasing you, or watching you like a cat watches a bird in a cage.

So, when it happens, you don’t believe it at first.

It’s past midnight. A storm rages outside, rain hammering against the glass. Nikolai was supposed to be with you tonight, he promised a new trick, a "grand reveal" but he hasn’t shown up.

That alone is unusual.

Then you hear it.

A muffled gasp. Something heavy hitting the floor.

You should stay put. Should ignore it. Should not, under any circumstances, involve yourself in his problems. And yet, before you can stop yourself, you’re on your feet, slipping into the dimly lit hallway.

You find him slumped against the wall, gloves off, blood seeping through his shirt.

He’s hurt.

His eyes snap to yours, wild at first, then softening into something unreadable.

“Oh dear…” he breathes, voice weak yet amused. “Did my little dove come looking for me?”

You don’t ask how he got injured.

You don’t ask who did it.

Right now, you’re more focused on the way his fingers tremble as he tries to press against the wound.

Wordlessly, you kneel beside him. “Let me see.”

Nikolai blinks. He doesn’t answer right away.

Instead, he studies you, his expression unusually still. It’s the first time you’ve seen him like this. Not laughing. Not playing. Just… watching.

Finally, he exhales a quiet chuckle. “Ah, so sweet. But aren’t you scared, little dove? I could just...” His fingers twitch near your throat, miming a twist. “Snap.”

You ignore him. “If you wanted me dead, you wouldn’t be sitting here bleeding in front of me.”

He grins-wide, unhinged, but something flickers in his eyes. Perhaps relief?

You press against the wound, and he flinches- a sharp, startled inhale breaking through his bravado.

“Ah—! Ohoho, you’re cruel~” He hisses through his teeth. “I love it.”

“Stay still.” You don’t know why your hands are steady. Why your heart isn’t pounding in terror. Why, for the first time since you got here, you feel like you’re the one in control.

You clean the wound, wrap the bandages tight, and for once, he lets you.

No riddles. No illusions. Just the quiet rise and fall of his breathing, the warmth of his skin beneath your hands.

Later, after you’ve finished, he leans back against the couch, watching you.

You expect him to start teasing again, to ruin the moment with some absurd joke.

But instead, he asks, voice softer than you’ve ever heard it:

“Why?”

You blink. “Why what?”

His head tilts, hair falling messily over his eyes. “Why help me?”

You say nothing.

Nikolai’s gaze lingers on you for a moment longer. Then, something changes.

He grins—smaller this time, lacking its usual sharpness.

“You’re a funny one, little dove.”

You aren’t sure what he means.

But you know something has shifted.

Because now, when he looks at you, there’s something new in his eyes.

The days after that are different. Nikolai still plays his games, still toys with you, still reminds you that you are his. But now, he listens to you more. He lingers closer. He watches you not just with amusement, but with curiosity.

One night, as you sit by the window, staring at the distant city lights, Nikolai rests his chin on your shoulder and murmurs:

“You don’t hate me as much anymore, do you?”

Your fingers tighten in your lap. “… I don’t know.”

His laughter is quiet this time. Not mocking. Just… pleased.

He presses a gloved finger to your pulse, feeling it thrum beneath his touch.

“Good” he whispers.

[sillysillygoofygoose]

Older! Toji Headcanons x Fem Reader... Part 3!

Househusband! Toji! MDNI 🙄 slight nsfw at the verryyy end.

Househusband! Toji, who never imagined he'd be in the position he's in. He assumed that if he ever were to settle down, he'd want a more traditional route for his family. A pretty little wife, all done up, taking care of the babies and somehow always pregnant. However, that 1950s fantasy came crashing down on him one night after getting home from a particularly rough "assignment."

Househusband! Toji, who confessed to you about his less than ideal career choices after a hard night and three glasses of Jack Daniels on the rocks. Honestly, you were not at all surprised. However, you were not at all pleased either. You thought he was money laundering, not assassinating people. The creeping fear of losing him upset you much more than the gut-churning crimes themselves. The ordeal turned into a screaming fight, leaving him to sleep on the couch.

The next morning, he wakes up to you, standing over him, twisting the sizeable twelve carat diamond on your left ring finger. The ring that is connected to your heart.

"Jesus Christ, sweets. Trying to give me a fucking heart attack?" He grumbles, voice low with sleep.

"Quit your job. I'll take care of everything, you can stay at home. Just quit." You have no time for his sarcastic antics, blurting out a dismissive, unrelated response to his moody tone.

He laughs. You're standing over him with a pout dancing on your pretty lips... and he laughs?

"You know I can't do that. It's dangerous and... we need the money." He attempts to bribe you, bringing in the financial aspect of him being unemployed to distract you from your unshakeable request... well, demand.

"No. No, we don't. I just got that big promotion. You're quitting. I'm really not asking." The more stubborn he becomes, the more your dainty features are contorted with anger. He's genuinely amused at you putting your foot down. Don't get it twisted. You're no pushover... but you find it hard to stand your ground when Toji gives you that look.

"Uh-huh surrreeee. You really can't make me quit, princess." Really, he's just antagonizing you. He likes to push, likes seeing you roll your eyes in annoyance. Instead, your response is not as gratifying as it usually is. You simply shrug your shoulders, turning your back to him on your heels.

"It's me or the job, Fushiguro."

Fushiguro. Your shared last name dropped off your tongue with the same venom of a black mamba.

Playing dirty. Being cruel. Even a pinch manipulative. However, it scared him enough, his sly smile immediately dropping as you walked away.

Househusband! Toji, who was dead set on the fact that he could never be domesticated. Yet, life seems to always shock him as he realizes he's standing in the kitchen, hands on his wide hips, skimming through a cookbook, picking out what to make his beautiful wife for dinner.

Househusband! Toji, who basically runs up to you like a lost puppy when you get home, gathering your smaller frame up in his big arms.

"How was work, pretty? Missed you all day. Come, I made your favorite."

Househusband! Toji, who unironically wears the "Queen of the Kitchen" apron that you bought him as a gag, proudly hanging it up after a long day of preparing food and spiffing up the living room.

Househusband! Toji, who leaves on trashy reality TV reruns while he tends to the house, furthering his Kardashians obsession and getting him hooked on 'The Real Housewives of Beverley Hills'. When you come back from a particularly uneventful day, he resites the drama he overheard while vacuuming.

Househusband! Toji, who built and grew his own garden, stating that he wanted fresh vegetables to incorporate in his recipes.

"Nothing but the best for you, baby."

Househusband! Toji, who runs purely off of your praise. A kiss on the cheek when he welcomes you at the door, an adoring stare directed at his jerry-built garden bed, a hum of pleasure while digging into a new recipe. His favorite form of praise, however, is when you let him rest his head on your chest, kissing him and thanking him for all of his work around the house. It's nice to be appreciated.

Househusband! Toji, who can't shake the thought of bending you over and breeding you after you teased him about how good of a stay at home dad he'd be. Taking care of the family from inside of the house might not be as bad as he originally thought.

Hope you enjoyed! Xoxo

[onegayastronaut]

Between Fire and Love

Requested by anon: Carina x reader, where reader is a college student (medical school maybe) going through a tough exam season and really exhausted. Carina tries to help her because she knows what it feels like. One night Carina is not home and reader cooks something, but because she’s really tired she sits down a little bit and falls asleep. Carina arriving home to a burning stove, luckily she can put out the fire. After the incident Carina scolds reader which leads to a fight. For a couple days they don’t talk but at the end they make it up.

Words: 1628

The air in your apartment was thick with exhaustion. The scent of coffee lingered in the kitchen, mingling with the faint aroma of takeout containers and old study notes scattered across the table. Medical school was brutal—long nights, endless pages of notes, and exams that felt like they were designed to break you. It had been weeks since you’d had a proper night of sleep, and even with Carina’s encouragement, you were running on fumes.

Carina had been through it all before. She understood the weight of medical school, the way it consumed every part of your life. She tried to help—bringing you tea, making sure you ate, rubbing your shoulders when she found you slumped over your laptop. But no amount of love could replace rest, and you were too stubborn to let yourself slow down.

That night, Carina was working late at the hospital. You had promised her you would eat something substantial instead of your usual cup of coffee and a granola bar. You even felt a flicker of determination as you stood in front of the stove, stirring a simple pasta dish. The warmth of the kitchen and the rhythmic motion of the wooden spoon were soothing. Just a few more minutes, and it would be done.

You told yourself you’d sit down for just a second. Just long enough to rest your eyes.

The exhaustion hit you like a wave, dragging you under before you even realized it.

Carina walked into the apartment to the sharp scent of smoke. Her heart leapt into her throat as she dropped her bag, rushing toward the kitchen. The sight made her blood run cold—a pan on the stove engulfed in flames, thick smoke curling toward the ceiling.

“Merda!” she hissed, immediately grabbing the fire extinguisher from under the sink. With practiced hands, she aimed the nozzle and doused the flames, coughing as the smoke filled her lungs.

Then she saw you—curled up on the couch, fast asleep, completely unaware of what had almost happened.

Carina's heart pounded with leftover adrenaline and something else—fear, frustration, anger. She shook your shoulder roughly, her voice sharper than she intended.

“Wake up! Dio, do you have any idea what just happened?”

Your eyes blinked open slowly, confusion clouding your features before realization dawned. You shot up, looking toward the kitchen, where smoke still lingered in the air.

“Oh my God—Carina, I—I didn’t mean to—”

“You fell asleep? While cooking?” Her voice was high with emotion, her Italian accent thickening with her distress. “Do you have any idea what could have happened? You could have burned the whole place down! You could have gotten hurt!”

“I was just so tired,” you mumbled, rubbing your temples. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Tired?” Carina repeated, throwing her hands in the air. “Tired doesn’t even begin to cover it! You are exhausted, you are not taking care of yourself, and now you are putting yourself in danger!”

The words stung. Maybe it was because you knew she was right, or maybe it was just the sheer weight of the last few weeks pressing down on you. Either way, frustration bubbled up in your chest, sharp and overwhelming.

“I don’t need a lecture right now, Carina.”

“Oh, you don’t?” Her eyes flashed. “Then what do you need? Because I have been trying to help you, and you refuse to listen!”

“I’m doing the best I can!” you snapped. “I’m trying to keep up with everything, and yeah, maybe I messed up tonight, but I don’t need you treating me like a child.”

Carina’s expression hardened. “I am treating you like someone I love—someone who doesn’t see how much they are hurting themselves.”

There was nothing left to say after that. The silence between you was heavy, thick with unspoken words and frayed emotions. Carina turned away first, running a hand through her hair.

“I can’t do this right now,” she muttered before walking toward the bedroom, leaving you standing there, heart pounding.

The next few days were a blur of tension and avoidance. Carina didn’t push you to talk, and you didn’t try to bridge the gap. It was easier this way, or at least that’s what you told yourself. But the silence gnawed at you, leaving an emptiness that no amount of studying could fill.

It wasn’t until you found yourself staring at your untouched dinner two nights later that you realized how much you missed her. The fight had settled in your chest like a weight, pressing down with every moment that passed without her warmth, her voice, her touch. You hated fighting with her. More than that, you hated knowing you had hurt her.

You found yourself replaying the argument in your head—her worried expression, the way her voice wavered with emotion. You knew you had pushed her away, and you regretted it. The apartment felt cold without her warmth. You paced the living room, unable to focus on anything but the aching absence of her presence. Your phone sat on the coffee table, taunting you, the screen dark and unmoving. She hadn’t called, hadn’t texted. You hated fighting with her. Hated the way your words had hurt her. You missed her, and what hurt the most was knowing she missed you, too.

-

Carina hated fighting with you. She hated the sharp words exchanged, the way her stomach twisted in knots after she stormed out. She had left because she needed space, because she couldn’t stand the way you refused to let her in when all she wanted was to take care of you.

But now she just felt miserable.

She had gone to her best friend’s place for a while, trying to calm down, trying to get the hurt out of her system. But even in the comfort of familiar company, she couldn’t shake the hollow feeling in her chest.

Her fingers hovered over her phone more times than she wanted to admit, itching to text you, to call you, to say something. But you hadn’t reached out either, and stubbornness kept her from being the first to break.

“Do you want to talk about it?” her friend asked gently, setting a cup of tea in front of her.

Carina sighed, pulling her knees to her chest on the couch. “We fought,” she admitted, voice small. “I just—I worry about her, you know? She works so much, and she never takes a moment to breathe. I just want her to take care of herself, but she thinks I’m nagging.”

Her friend hummed, taking a sip of tea. “She loves you,” they pointed out. “She’s probably missing you as much as you miss her.”

Carina swallowed hard. “I don’t want to be mad anymore,” she confessed. “I just want to go home.”

Her friend smiled knowingly. “Then go home.”

-

Later that night, you found yourself standing outside the bedroom door, hesitating before finally pushing it open. Carina was sitting on the bed, her back against the headboard, reading. She looked up when you entered, her eyes guarded.

“I’m sorry,” you said quietly.

She sighed, setting her book aside. “Come here.”

You crossed the room and sat beside her, leaning into her warmth instinctively. She wrapped an arm around you, exhaling softly against your hair.

“I was scared,” she admitted. “I know what it feels like to push yourself too hard, to think you can handle everything alone. But I also know where that leads.”

Tears burned at the back of your eyes as you swallowed the lump in your throat. “I know. I just… I feel like I have to keep going. If I stop, I’ll fall behind.”

Carina pulled back just enough to cup your face, her gaze soft but firm. “You won’t. But you will burn out, and I don’t want to see you reach that point.”

You closed your eyes, leaning into her touch. “I’ll try to be better about it.”

She kissed your forehead gently. “We’ll try together.”

In a soft, hesitant voice, you said, “I missed you.”

Carina’s breath hitched, and she wrapped her arms tighter around you, burying her face in your shoulder. Relief flooded through you as you held her tight, pressing your lips to her hair.

“I missed you too,” she murmured, voice thick with emotion.

You sighed against her, feeling the tension melt away as you breathed her in. “I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I didn’t mean to push you away.”

She pulled back just enough to look at you, her hands cupping your face gently. “I know,” she said. “I just—I love you.”

“I know,” you admitted, guilt swirling in your chest. “I’ll try to be better. I promise.”

Her lips curled into the smallest of smiles before she leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss against yours. It was warm and familiar, full of unspoken forgiveness, full of love.

And just like that, the weight began to lift. The tension melted, leaving only the quiet understanding between you.

Over the next few days, Carina helped you set up a new study schedule—one that included actual breaks, meals, and enough sleep to function. She would pull you away from your books when she saw you getting lost in them, reminding you that balance was just as important as knowledge.

One night, after a particularly long day, you found yourself curled up on the couch, resting your head against Carina’s shoulder. She ran her fingers through your hair, her touch soothing.

“I know you want to do well,” she murmured, “but you don’t have to do it at the cost of yourself.”

You exhaled softly, nodding. “I know.”

And for the first time in weeks, you actually meant it.

[dark-elf-writes]

Tgcf/mdzs crossover where hualian both adopt the same son at different points in his life (or afterlife as the case may be) and don’t realize until Wei Wuxian prays to them instead of the Jiangs when he does his first two bows with Lan Wangji.

Xie Lian thinks about his sweet little A-Ying all the time. Thinks about too thin cheeks stretched into a smile and tiny hands curled into his robes as he hides from dogs. Thinks about glittering silver eyes as he spun and danced along with Xie Lian’s songs when he busked. Thinks about the tears that dripped down those, now fuller, cheeks when Xie Lian had to leave him with the Jiangs.

Hua Cheng would claim that he doesn’t think about the fractured angry soul he absolutely didn’t take under his wing at all. Would claim he doesn’t remember too thin cheeks and dull eyes full of shadows even death could not ease. Would claim he doesn’t remember the long days of silence where the soul couldn’t find the effort to do much of anything. Would claim he doesn’t remember the bite of anger and so much resentment that the little soul (not even a true ghost, but powerful enough to rattle worlds) carried. Would claim he doesn’t remember how those eyes (lighter after over a decade in Ghost City. Sill full of shadows at time but more often alight with mischief) had widened in fear before he disappeared.

(He does remember. He can never forget. But caring about anyone that isn’t his Dianxia is not something he does so clearly the little soul couldn’t have wormed his way into his dead heart.)

Wei Wuxian wakes up in a body that isn’t his (can’t be his because his body is gone. Rendered to ash by his own hubris and if he’s not careful he can still feel the pain of being ripped—) alone until he isn’t and has to remember what it is to be alive. Has to remember what it was like to want to be. And then he’s dragged into a whirlwind of secrets long buried and painful truths about his own past and he forgets the two beings that watched over him for so long until he doesn’t. Until he is kneeling in a shrine with Lan Zhan at his side mirroring his two bows perfectly. Until he reaches out to the only parents he can remember and begs.

“For heaven and earth. For both of you. I owe you both one more bow, just please let me not fuck this up first.”

They find him later, of course, find that boy, that shattered soul, they cared for so much and Wei Wuxian laughs so hard when he sees them together that he would have fallen off of Lil Apple if not for Lan Zhan’s hands on his waist to steady him.

[lesbomaticlove]

✨ character-song analysis #2 ✨

zosan - irresistible by fall out boy

based on what i know about my followers i doubt i have to explain any of this with these two, but fuck you cause im gonna. see my vision. heavy headcanons ahead.

"coming in unannounced, drag my nails on the tile / I'll just follow your scent, you can just follow my smile"

sanji very frequently is the one to have to go hunting for zoro when he gets lost and then leading him the proper way. insert joke about unhygenic zoro and charmer sanji or whatever

"all of your flaws are aligned with this mood of mine / cutting me to the bone nothing left to leave behind"

they love love love picking apart each other's mistakes, always taking their anger out on one another, starting that vicious cycle of tearing each other down and getting angry that, to some degree, it's working. not that either one would ever admit to that.

"you ought to keep me concealed just like i was a weapon / I didn't come for a fight but I will fight til the ending"

their roles as the wings of the pirate king go well with this. both were reluctant to join the crew, but itll be a cold day in hell before either of them let their captain down. sanji especially is underestimated by foes for the fact that he doesn't carry weapons but clearly, he matches up to zoro's fighting ability. also with a literal interpretation of the first line, sanji being a closeted bisexual wanting the relationship between them to remain concealed at all costs.

"this one might be a battle, might not turn out okay / you know you look so seattle, but you feel so la"

their arguments are fucking turbulent. the second part of the line suggests an appearance of one thing yet being another- zoro often gives the appearance of being removed and uncaring, when in reality his love for his crew encompasses everything. sanji gives the appearance of confidence and nonchalance, when he's lived his whole life feeling weak, insecure, and in constant need to prove himself.

"gonna get you to burst just like you were a bubble / frame me up on your wall just to keep me out of trouble / like a moth getting trapped in the light by fixation / truly free love, baby, I'm talking no inflation"

one of the things i love most about their dynamic is their aggressive protection over the other, and in this line I can't think of anything but thriller bark. zoro knocking sanji out, sanji trying to hold on because he thinks hes the one thats supposed to make this sacrifice, and once sanji wakes up his first thought is to find him? the anger that he felt in that moment falling away to fear of losing him? im insane.

"you know i give my love a f-f-four letter name"

'cook'. 'moss'. need i say more? but fr, the pun in the lyric is that 'four letter words' refer to profanity and these guys love to call each other all sorts of names. they never use the other's actual given name. except sanji in that one singular scene but it wasn't in the manga.

"you're second hand smoke / i breathe you in but honey i don't know / what you're doing to me, mon chéri / but the truth catches up with us eventually"

connection to sanji smoking and speaking french yada yada. but think of it this way: a passive cause to an eventual end. neither realizing they're in love until they're so deep in it that there's no possible way of going back or letting go.

"i'm no good, good at lip service / except when they're yours, mi amor"

just- just imagine zoro saying this line to sanji. lip service = words over action, and zoro is a very action over words kind of guy. he's not the type to say things just to make someone happy but he'll sure kiss him about it instead.

and after all of this, there is but one last thing to add; the chorus-

"i love the way you hurt me / its irresistible"

✨masochism✨

edit: decided to link the playlists im taking from in case anyone wants to see the madness of my mind or perhaps request a song explaination

zosan playlist - i came back from hell to kill you

[fatalforesight]

am i dragging this forever?

shauna shipman x jackie taylor (shaunahat hinted): An alternate version of s3e1 where Shauna heads into the woods instead of Mari. She wakes up injured in the pit. And with no one coming to save her, it's time to start speaking to ghosts again. Jackie, as always, is vindictive in her deathly appearances.

content: 18+, minors dni, sexual tension, angst, dead!jackie, grief, toxic yuri behavior

word count: 2,688

“You’re not my mother, Natalie. You can’t ground me!”

There is a rage that has lived in Shauna Shipman her entire life. Only now, it takes front and center. Every moment of every day.

Natalie frowns. “I’m not grounding you. I’m–”

“Telling me to go back to my stick hut for a week sounds a whole lot like a fucking grounding,” Shauna spits. Mari is wide-eyed, saliva-stew dripping down half her face. “I made this dinner. I butchered the meat, I stirred the pot. You don’t get to ground me from the dinner I made!”

“You can’t spit in Mari’s food and then–”

Shauna almost screams. “Who cares if I spit in her goddamn stew!” She turns on a dime, stalking towards Mari. “If I did, you should be grateful. You want to have a ceremony in honor of my baby? That baby was me! He was me! Is my spit not holy enough for you, Mari?”

The entire team is silent as they watch the explosion happen. Mari is terrified. Shauna glances around her, locking eyes with each one of them. It’s impossible to know for certain what they’re thinking – do they pity her? Hate her?

“Fuck this. I don’t need any of you.”

She stomps away into the woods, away from the stupid ceremony and the stupid feast. The woods are quiet, but to Shauna, the quiet isn’t eerie. Having ceremonial dinners to honor dead best friends and babies is eerie, but the trees and crickets are static on a warm television. They’re safer than walls and a roof.

Gradually her pace slows. And as the anger cools, Shauna feels that she ought to turn back. But then she remembers the paper lanterns, the gravesite. If she goes back, Lottie may very well be in the middle of mumbling some incantation in French or Swedish over a pile of bones. And for everyone’s sake, Shauna decides it will be better for her to go back in the morning. So she takes another step away from camp, and screams when she realizes she’s falling.

~

Fucker. Fuck. Ow. Fuck.

Pain brings Shauna back to the world. It always does. Sunlight shoots through the canopy of trees, and she winces at the brightness. How long was she out?

And her knee. Her leg. Just a glance tells her that it’s bad. Dislocated? That’s probably the best case scenario. It burns like she’s been bit by a million ants. And she’s in… a hole. A massive hole. Someone dug this hole on purpose, like that kind of massive hole. Between the pain in her leg and the hopelessness of getting out of the ditch, Shauna can’t help it. She begins to cry, and that dumb face flush that happens every time something stupid happens to her is hot in her cheeks. The kind that comes from deep embarrassment, when you’re just embarrassed to be alive. Like when you get into your first car accident, or fall in front of the whole cafeteria, or the cops get called on the bonfire.

“Who digs a fucking hole in the middle of nowhere?” Shauna mutters. Her whole body is trembling now. From fear? Septic shock via dislocated knee?

“Who falls in a hole in the middle of nowhere?”

The words echo through the leaves. They come from everywhere and nowhere all at once. Shauna whips her head upwards at neck-breaking speed to find the voice coming from somewhere above her. But there’s no one. “Hello?” Shauna yells. No response. “... Jackie?” she whispers.

“Shauna,” the voice teases. A soft lilt, like Jackie was hiding just out of sight and beckoning Shauna to come find her. But still, Shauna can see nothing. No one is with her.

Shauna closes her eyes as tears continue to prick in the corners of them. From pain? Surely, but what kind? “Not real. She’s not real. It’s just me.”

“Not real?” Jackie scoffs. “Asshole. C’mon, Shipman. Open your eyes.”

She does. And there’s Jackie. Sitting on the far end of the hole, pressed against the wall, as far from Shauna as she can get. A blush in her cheeks. Her letterman jacket sitting perfectly on her frame, just like it did a year ago. She’s in the pose Shauna used to keep her in–

“Am I dying?”

Jackie just smiles. It’s one of those stupidly perfect smiles, the kind where people say it’s perfect because it’s imperfect. “You have a dislocated knee, Shauna, not a stab wound. Not happy to see me?”

The world seems to spin. One of the first things Shauna feared after Jackie’s death was that she would forget how she looked. She didn’t keep a picture of Jackie in her wallet, so all she had was memory. But the image she sees now is exact. The posture, the makeup, the skinny legs and the part of her hair. Styled, like how Jackie styled herself before the crash. “No, Jackie. I’m always happy to see you.”

The apparition nods. “Likewise.” But Shauna knows that wouldn’t be true. Then she looks around, taking in the hole. “This is strange. It’s like, perfectly rectangular. Dug, not natural for sure. Did one of you do this?”

“No,” Shauna responds. Her eyes are focused on the way Jackie’s lips move, and she’s barely listening to the conversation. Then the lull goes on too long, and ghost-Jackie raises an eyebrow in the silence. “I don’t think so. I guess Coach could’ve, but we’re pretty sure he’s dead.”

“No body, no proof,” Jackie counters. “That’s how all the best set up the plot twist, right? But I think it wasn’t him either. Looks older, if you ask me. Like I know anything!” She laughs, but Shauna doesn’t join in. “This tarp though… mighty suspicious if you ask me!” A painted fingernail taps the blue plastic. “Why are you here?”

Silence again. For a long time, Jackie says nothing, staring at the ground and plucking at the edge of the tarp Shauna had fallen through. When she looks up, she seems to have great concern in her eyes, but she smiles anyway. “Well, Shauna… you’re gonna have to set that knee.”

Shauna gulps. “I don’t need you to tell me that,” she snaps.

“Then why haven’t you done it already?” Jackie shifts onto all fours, crawling slowly to where Shauna sits. The heartbeat in Shauna’s chest accelerates at the image. Jackie comes forward just barely on every word she utters. “All you’ve got to do is… push it back into place. It’ll hurt, but it’ll be fast.”

The sun is right above them now. Seriously, how long had Shauna been knocked out for? Tears are falling fast down her cheeks. She isn’t panicking, but Jackie being this close is making her nervous. “I can’t. I can’t. I just have to wait, wait for one of the others–”“They’re not coming. You have to do this yourself. I can’t help you, they cannot help you. It’s just you. It’s only you.” Jackie is so close now, sitting on her knees just inches away from Shauna’s feet. Close enough to touch, to pull close, but Shauna won’t reach out. Something about this Jackie, this almost-ghost, always seems too fragile to touch. “You’re alone, Shipman.”

Shauna weeps. “I’m not. I’m not alone, shut up.”

“Okay, so you’re not. What you rather our teammates find, hm? Shauna Shipman, pathetic,” the word is like bile coming out of Jackie’s mouth, “begging for someone to take care of her. Or… Shauna Shipman, a leader, who set her own knee before anyone could get to her.” Her breath could be falling on Shauna’s knees if this was happening. If she was real. If it was just the two of them, all alone, in this stupid pit, in these stupid woods. There would be breath, and Shauna could just reach out to tuck the stray piece of blonde hair back behind Jackie’s ear. “Okay,” Shauna sighs.

“You need a stick to bite on?” Jackie murmurs. Shauna shakes her head.

“Put both of your hands on your knee, Shauna.”

Doing as she’s told, Shauna takes a deep breath and settles her fingertips on her left knee.

“On three, you’re going to push.”

Shauna’s chin quivers, tears still coming down against her will. “No, no.”

“Yes. I’ll be here the whole time. I’ll be here when it’s over.”

Hadn’t Jackie just said she was alone in this? Her hands are shaking. Her eyes are squeezed tight. All Jackie is now… is a voice.

“One.”

God, her knee hurts. Did Coach Ben feel it when his leg got crushed? When do you know the leg is past saving?

“Two…”

When do you know someone is past saving?

“Three! Push, Shauna! Push!”

The scream could be heard for miles, Shauna thinks, but she can’t hear it herself. Just feel her jaw ache from opening wide, just feel her body crumple like paper. And, with her eyes still closed, she swears she feels a hand on her face, a body wrapped around hers, an embrace from the most familiar body she knows that is not her own. 

“Bet you wish I was there to say that when the baby came,” Jackie quips. That’s how this falsehood always goes. Both entirely cruel and entirely kind, all at once and all the time. Volleying Shauna’s emotions and perceptions around until she’s dizzy and frustrated.

“Don’t talk about him.”

Jackie just hums into Shauna’s ear. A lullaby. “Don’t open your eyes yet, okay? Stay just like this,” Jackie shushes her. Small fingers glide through Shauna’s dirty, matted hair. Like magic, there’s no tangles in the wake of the finger combing. And the hand is warm, and the hug is warm, and for a small moment, Shauna is only seventeen years old, and nothing matters except for Jackie.

“Is this how Jeff held you?” A shocking question, running over Shauna like ice cold water. Kind. Then Cruel. And again. To balance it out, Jackie’s hand falls until it’s holding Shauna’s tear-stained cheek. “No, probably not. He’s not good at the sweet parts, not really. And nothing can substitute the way girls know how to hold each other. Right, Shipman?”

“Stop,” Shauna begs. “If you’re going to do that just leave me alone.”

“I’m always right here, even when you can’t feel me.” Her face is closer to Shauna’s now. The breath – the breath Shauna could not feel earlier – now lightly dances across her mouth, her nose, her chin. So close. So real. There are smaller fingers, then, tiny, tiny, tiny fingers touching Shauna’s hand. “Oh,” she whimpers, still with her eyes closed. She can’t look. She can’t bear to look.

“I’m taking care of him until you get here. But it isn’t time yet.”

Shauna does not feel peaceful. But for the first time in months, she doesn’t feel alone. “Why not? Why can’t it be time, Jackie? I don’t want to keep doing this.” The frustration pours out. Shauna Shipman does not belong with the other crazy girls and their ceremonies and their prayers and their storytelling. But she doesn’t belong at Brown, or Rutgers, or high school, or her home. She belonged to two people in the entire world, and they’re dead. “I can’t keep doing this,” she sobs.

“Shauna?”

The hands disappear. The warmth of bodies close to hers dissipate, and all that’s left is the heat of the sun. She feels empty again. Not whole, not complete. The world dims and loses its color. It had been brighter, she was certain, just a moment ago. Shauna looks up to where the new voice is, and finds someone standing at the lip of the hole.

“Melissa? How much did you hear?”

Melissa is alone, in her dumb, backwards hat. “I heard you scream. And… I just heard you say you can’t keep… doing something?” She seems to be taking stock as she looks Shauna up and down. Her eyes land on the leg. “Oh, God, Shauna, your knee–”A sigh of relief leaves Shauna before she can stop it. After what happened with Jackie’s body, she tries hard to not let anyone know about moments like that. She doesn’t even write about them in her journals. No input is necessary about whether or not Shauna Shipman is crazy, or connecting with a deity, or whatever.

“I set it. That’s why I was screaming.” Melissa doesn’t reply. “Can you help me out of here or not, Melissa?” Melissa smiles, and Shauna realizes that it’s kind of a nice smile. It’s gentle. Welcoming, even. Not perfect, not imperfect. Just kind. Maybe it’s just the timing, but Shauna considers the fact that Melissa may not be one of the eerie quiets, but one of the static quiets.

“I’m gonna get you out of there, okay? Let me get a stick, or something. Don’t move. Well, don’t try, at least.” Melissa stumbles over every sentence to some degree. Shauna only stares at her in contemplative wonder. One person from the entirety of camp hears her scream, and it’s the girl with the emotional support baseball cap. Strange.

Shauna glances around. No Jackie. No baby. Jackie had said no one was coming to help – but Melissa was up there, trying to help. Rustling through the brush, and looking for a solution. Did you send her? Shauna desperately wanted to ask. But it was pointless, and it’s not like she was going to talk to Jackie with Melissa around.

“So I couldn’t find anything to help, but I think I’m strong enough to pull you out. Can you get to one of the edges and stand?”

“You think you’re strong enough to pull me out without just falling in?”

Melissa frowns. “Carrying stuff is kind of all anyone will let me do around here. Summer conditioning couldn’t even get me this buff,” she jokes.

Shauna just shrugs. She pulls herself to her feet, wincing when she accidentally puts some weight on the injured leg. “Good job!” comes the encouragement from Melissa. She was waiting at the edge of the hole closest to Shauna. The earlier embarrassment returns as Shauna is forced to hop towards the corner Melissa is bending over. “You’re doing great! Now just take both my hands, and try to protect your leg as much as you can.”

Struggling at first, Shauna can only really try to push off with her one good leg to give Melissa any help. But the other girl was right – she is pretty strong. Melissa groans with effort, and Shauna feels her feet come off the ground. “Come on,” Melissa grunts.

And that makes Shauna feel… something. But she can’t put her finger on just what.

Finally, Melissa successfully pulls Shauna out of the pit and drags her onto even land. It isn’t without a price; Shauna’s knees drag near the edge of the hole and she moans in pain. Her hands drop from Melissa’s as soon as possible, immediately cradling her leg.

“Let me look at it,” Melissa offers, and crouches down next to Shauna.

“No!” Shauna yells.

The woods go quiet. Maybe too close to eerily quiet. But Melissa is so close to Shauna now. Just as close as Jackie was. This breath is different. More real. Not just a memory, but a current sensation. And Shauna doesn’t like that she can feel the difference. That she knows there is a difference between how physically real Melissa is and how physically gone Jackie is.

“I mean… I mean I just want to get back to camp. Right now. We’ll look at it there.”

Melissa nods, even though she looks like she may not understand. “Okay, Shipman. Sling an arm around my shoulder and we’ll get you there, um, lickity splat. Or something.”

This is not the kind of girl Shauna would have been caught hanging out with back home. Too awkward, too unsure. But out here, this is the most normal person in the world. Not a sycophant, not a psycho, not an action hero. And decidedly, not too boring either.

“Or something,” Shauna replies. And then she gives Melissa a tiny, tiny smile.

[girlnextvore]

ANYWAY My brain was activate the last few days in a bad way so I wrote what Rosa's SECOND NIGHT with Alezya was like, after the horrors ofcourse.

It doesn't go into to much detail just Rosas bizarre brain state after seeing the murder of her friends

Sweat stuck to his skin, the covers over him felt restrictive and hot. A coffin made of fine cottons and silks tightened as he thrashed in the bed until he awoke. He sat up in a rush pulling the blankets off of his body.

Fear had coiled itself around his spine from the dream he had. A dark forest , a vacation turned into a nightmare. The blood of his friends, his fiance, scattered on the dirt by some monster. It had to be a dream, it was all a dream he had simply slipped into a new horrifying delusion. Sleep was never peaceful for him, usually the dreams found him growing old and unhappy, possibly trying to die and finding it impossible. This was just a new one to add to the collection of depraved fears his mind crafted. 

He placed a hand on his chest to try and catch his breath, to calm the fear instilled in him. Then he noticed the fabric under his hand. The clothes he wore and slept in were gone, instead he had on a delicate white nightgown, it had sheer sleeves and seemed to fit perfectly for him even though it was made for women. 

Next came the realization of where he was. He wasn’t at the camping grounds, he was in a room that seemed carefully craved and crafted from different types of stone. It was furnished in a style that made it known the person who decorated had vast amounts of wealth. It was beautiful, if not for the hellish fear that awakened in him he would be awestruck by the beauty of the craftsmanship. 

But instead he was speechless from terror as the door opens in the wall of stone, and a figure walks in. A figure he recognizes from the night before. Illuminated by the candle light the large imposing monster could be made out fully.  

He wanted to run, to scramble to the headboard of the bed and scream but he couldn’t move. Seeing the figure now he can make out that they are…human? She was larger than any human he had ever seen, the doorframe seemed crafted to accommodate that. She had brown skin but the undertone of it was so cold like no life was underneath it, her hair was black with streaks of white from age, but the streaks seemed so perfectly placed.. Her face had a masculine line to it, a strong jaw with strange lines along them.

He was still absorbing the way the monster looked when she closed the distance between them and placed a bowl with what looked to be a stew in it on the bedside table. He couldn’t help but recoil from the closeness, remembering the way this thing ripped into his friends. With claws or a blade, he couldn’t remember, he only remembered blood spilling and viscera splattering. 

The monster’s eyebrow raised at that reaction. “You need to eat.” 

He seemed almost surprised to hear it speak until he remembered that she spoke to him last night. She called him “flower”. That instilled a feeling of confusion but the fear took over. With a shake of his head he pulled the blankets over his body and balls up further away from the monster. 

“I had expected you to wake during the day but you slept for nearly 20 hours. You must eat.” 

He felt another emotion enter the tempest of feelings, this time anger. It seemed to silence the others as he glared. “Why don't you just kill me!”

After biting out those words he recoiled back into himself like a coward. He could almost hear his fathers voice of disappointment at how that moment of bravery dissipated in seconds. The figure seemed to not even register that he had spoken. 

“I could make you eat. I could force you to consume this food like it was your idea or I could hold your chin and pinch your nose while I force it down your throat. I would prefer it if you just obey.” 

He felt this strange desire to just listen and reached out taking the bowl and began to eat. As he ate he expected to hear the monster leave but she never did. She simply stood at the end of the bed unmoving and watching. Her eyes were red, no maybe pink? They looked unnatural and like a predatory animal. He had to break eye contact and focus on just eating. 

Once it was finished he went to hand the bowl back and let out a tiny thank you. The monster didn’t take the bowl but gave a smirk. It was as horrifying as it was handsome. The way her face moved made it clear this was a rare show of emotion, the teeth made visible where uncannily white, some of them being sharp and elongated.

The monster did not take the bowl from his hands. She instead reached out and patted his head, like he was some well behaved dog. “Good girl, now was that so hard?” 

His body fully tensed again, dropping the bowl to the floor. IT wasn’t the words that caused this reaction but how they made him feel, he felt his face get hot and moved his head quickly away from the hand. “What do you want from me now?” 

The smirk on the monster's face disappeared. “Nothing, if I wanted something from you I would take it. Now, Is there anything you need now?” 

“I want to know why I am alive”

“Because I wished for you to be alive.” 

“Why did all of my friends die then?”

The monster raised that same eyebrow again. “I expected more theatrics. You cried some in your sleep, but I feel any other mortal would be far more distraught about those so close to them being killed.” 

He was always told he was too distant, too bad at showing empathy. His mother found it unsettling. His father on the other hand said it was the only admirable thing about him. He wasn’t fully cold, he could cry and feel fear, but those emotions happened almost exclusively for himself. That selfishness was one of the many reasons he hated to look in the mirror. 

“They are already dead, shedding tears and trying to get revenge against you will accomplish nothing. You would just kill me.” His voice wavered at the end. 

That smile returned to the monster’s face. “ You don't even want to try? I could hand you a weapon.” 

He shook his head no, to be dishonest with himself now would make his despair intensify. To pretend to feel enough hate to try and kill her would give him no comfort. “Can you please just answer my question?” 

 “So polite. I killed them because they were on my land while I was taking care of business. It is nothing but bad luck on their part and..”  The monster moved again towards him and he went to recoil but his wrist was grabbed tightly. 

A clawed finger raised his chin to look deeply into those red eyes. “Good luck on your part. Now, are there any other questions?”  She really was so handsome, he never thought of a woman being handsome before. His body was hot , the fear was mixing with frustration. He should be so angry, so bitter at this monster for his friends. His friends that didn't understand him. His friends that invited him on this trip out of duty. He should be angry for his fiance that…his father introduced him to.  He couldn’t even remember a single detail about her life, she was a stylist he thinks. 

He pushed those thoughts away and spoke. “Why am I in women's clothing?” 

“Do you not like them?”

He simply looked away, breaking eye contact and didn’t answer. 

A laugh echoed around the room. “Oh it seems she's shy.”  The monster released her and stood up straight, she adjusted her tie.

“I have some business, we shall speak later. There is someone to attend to your needs, just speak what you need to the door.” She went to the door and the heavy stone seemed to open on its own. 

This conversation was so strange. The aura and feeling of death permeated into the air around the monster, she felt like prey during every moment of the interaction. Her body screamed to run away and vomit and cry but she never could. There was something else deeper in that deathly aura. Something she found comfort in, it made her sick. 

“W-what will we speak about uuh…” She had realized she never got the monster's name. The woman turned around and gave a small head bow, a show of some sort of respect the newly dubbed woman on the bed knew she shouldn’t take for granted. 

“Alezya, Alezya Zewditu, and when I return we can speak about whatever you wish. “ She goes to turn back around but stops. “Within reason of course.”