#requested titles

[queersrus]

I’m looking for true punk, rebellious titles!

Thank you so much! ^^

hell yeah

titles!!

the non-conformer, the non-conforming one, the one who doesnt conform, the one who refuses to conform, the anti-authority, the anti-authoritarian, the one who hates authority, the anti-consumerist, the anti-corp, the anti-corporate, the one who is true to themself, the punk, the true punk, the truest punk, the one who takes action, the rebel, the rebellious one, the rebellion, the anarchist, the anarchy, the anarcho-punk

(prn) who doesnt/refuses to conform, (prn) who is against authority, (prn) who stands up against authority, (prn) who is against consumerism/capitalism, (prn) who is against corporations, (prn) who hates corporate greed, (prn) who stays true to (prns)self, (prn) who is (a) punk, (prn) who is (a) true punk, (prn) who takes (direct) action, (prn) who is a rebel, (prn) who rebels, (prn) who is part of/leads a rebellion, (prn) who is rebellious, (prn) who follows anarchy, (prn) who is an anarchist, (prn) who commits anarchy, (prn) who is an anarcho-punk

[seraphwires]

　　　　𓂃　†　religious [ christian ] NPTS ˳

             requested ┈ @anon

names　┈

apostle ; gabriel ; ciaran ; michael ; michaelle ; exodus ; confesse ; divine ; rosary ; rosarie ; lamb ; evangeline ; cassian ; priest ; prophet ; prophette ; vincent ; spirit ; sin ; ezra ; valentine ; adeline ; adelina ; sariel ; hymn ; genesis ; silas ; acolyte ; crucifix ; crucifixe ; laity ; remiel ; bishop ; cathedral ; cathedra ; vow ; baptiste ; cardinal ; cardinalle ; chalice ; edenne ; sacrament ; sacramentte ; ambrose ; friar ; homily ; cross ; crosse ; saint ; preachyr ; prayer ; lucian ; vicar

pronouns　┈

hy // hymn ; hymn // hymns ; pray // prayer ; cross // crosses ; saint // saints ; holy // holys ; wor // worship ; sin // sins ; priest // priests ; divine // divines ; heaven // heavens ; father // fathers ; thy // thym ; one // ones ; eucharist // eucharists ; son // sons ; reverent // reverents ; nun // nuns ; spirit // spirits ; lamb // lambs ; altar // altars ; church // churches ; sacred // sacreds

titles　┈

prns holiness ; prns eminence ; prn who receives the eucharist ; prn who sits at the right hand of god ; the heavenly father ; prn who sings prns praises ; prn who has atoned for prns sins ; the heavenly disciple ; prn who art in heaven ; prn who is a part of the clergy ; the lamb of god ; prn who preaches the word of god

[girlwarlock]

ayda really said "magic was a mistake and the best way to engage with it is to not do so" when she declared gorgug the greatest magician in the world

[scribbling-one]

Sloop! Sloopis! Isaloop! Suck that spikey face!!

SIR YES SIR 🫡

[priceofreedom]

Zack's limit break Requested by anon!

[ritahayworrth]

Dexter, this is Ms. Imbrie and Mr. Connor from SPY magazine.

SPY? Your tastes have changed a little, haven't they, Sam?

HIGH SOCIETY (1956) dir. Charles Walters

[chsopnk]

「 ✦ TOMORROW IS ANOTHER DAY ✦ 」

☆. # SHIP — nanami, gojo (separately) x m!reader.

☆. # AUTHOR’S NOTE — the boys had a bad day and need to be pampered. ;; requested.

☆. # WARNINGS — none.

NANAMI.

this man is chronically stressed + tired but he would also never admit it to you

yeah, he’ll come home after a particularly stressful day at work and be like “today was stressful, my love” but he’d never actually talk about just how much it’s getting to him

but anyway.

when nanami comes home, you can kind of immediately tell how he’s feeling. he’ll try his best to still be the sweetest husband ever (because he’d never wanna take his mood out on you) but it’s still obvious

he’ll take his tie off and sit down on a kitchen chair, leaning his head back

and he’ll just sit there. for like fifteen minutes. trying to calm the ranging headache that’s pulsing behind his eyes.

so you get him some aspirin before let the tub fill up with nice, warm water just the way you know nanami likes it

you turn off the light in the bathroom so it doesn’t make his headache worse and set the mood by lighting a few candles around the room—making sure it’s a dim lighting instead of a whole ceiling light shining down

he would definitely complain. he’d tell you “you don’t have to do this” and that he’ll be fine with just a little bit of sleep

but what kind of husband would you be if you let nanami suffer when you’ve got the means to help him, right??

sometimes he just needs a little help remembering that in a relationship, it’s a give and take.

so with a bit of convincing, he’ll let you help him wash up as he relaxes in the bath. make sure to rub his sore shoulders and neck! it gives him so much relief when you do that 🥹

you’ll wash his body gently but for now, there’s not much talking going on. give him a bit of time, let him relax for a while and then ask him. he’ll just shut down id you immediately jump at hime with questions about his day.

he does love hearing you talk about your day during this part of the routine tho! tell him what you did today, how you were feeling, what’s for dinner—anything that gives him some sense of normality. he loves hearing about your day! <3

once you’re in bed together, pls hold him! let him rest his tired head on your chest and listen to your heartbeat because that always calms him down so so much

maybe he’ll talk about his day, maybe he won’t. don’t force him to tho! he really just wants to rest with you

GOJO

a baby.

he will come home, whine and complain about how stressful it was and how hard he works 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

(please praise him. he wants you to praise him soo bad)

will throw himself on the couch and act like he’s been shot and cannot move.

you know what would really cheer him up tho?

some sweets. and kisses. and cuddles. and maybe you could scratch his back too…

he’s one demanding mf but he also deserves it so who are you to say no to him let’s be so fr

fair warning: he will not stop whining and complaining until you give him what he wants.

“satoru, you can’t eat sweets, dinner’s almost ready”

and he’ll throw his head back and be like, “guess i’ll just die here then.”

dramatic hoe 😒

BUT. he really really does deserve and need to be pampered every now and then even if it does feed into his act </3

also 100% certain this man will melt in your arms id you give him head and/or back scratches

if he used his six eyes a lot, maybe you could bring him a cold towel to put over his eyes since (imo) using them too much gives him a headache + burning eyes !!

also.

once you’ve started cuddling, he will not let you go. forget going to the bathroom. forget the dinner on the stove. no more getting up until he thinks he’s been cured

will ask you to feed him sweets tho. pls he’s so dramatic. he’ll act like he’s lost both arms in battle with the way he’s acting

but he’s cute so he’s forgiven

[mellohiizz]

🌀🌀you want to draw devotion duo (zam and mapicc) 🌀🌀🌀🌀🌀🌀you want to draw them soooo bad 🌀🌀🌀🌀

guys i dont know what happened this just randomly appeared on my canvas i dont remember drawing this/j anyway, was going to draw them anyway because that clip now lives in my brain and im getting devotion duo brainworms...

[midnightanxietytm]

He takes his whiskey neat

A/N: Look, I think i was possessed while writing this one /j. It was like 1 am and I was procrastination on college work, I dunno what happened but this is the ungodly spawn of my imagination mixed with sleep deprivation, caffeine and stress. Enjoy and don't question it too much

Contents: Ford Pines x reader, pinning (lots of pining), I pictured reader in their late 40s to early 50s so there is an age gap but nothing extreme. There's some plot in those holes. uhhh lots of tension and no payoff because im pretty sure I passed out before I got to that part.

Word count: 996

There’s this look on his eyes now that you can’t quite figure out.

Ever since Stanford Pines came back from the portal, ever since weirdmageddon and the end of that fateful summer, something about him fundamentally changed. There’s contempt, relief, sure, but there's more to it, something that he keeps deep in that rattling metal-protected brain of his.

And god forbid sometimes you just want to pick him apart entirely, figure out every detail, note it down, absorb it, maybe then his mere presence won’t entice you, mess you, so goddamn much.

It culminates, as all events are bound to do, right before that year’s summer vacation, you blame the heat. 

Soos and Melody took a vacation for themselves, entrusting the shack back to Stan’s less than trustworthy hands, just like old times. Ford slips back into the basement so easily you almost follow him; your mind briefly longing for that nostalgia of being freshly out of college, when you and Ford were easily impressed by the oddness of the world.

You were a prodigy; a good ten years younger than him yet still doing your masters while he did his doctorate, and in the same area with similar themes! Back then, you two were just bright-eyed yet very tired academics… Then Gravity Falls presented itself on a silver platter, and Bill followed through.

You were there, on the day of the portal, or at least, almost there, going back for the thousandth time, expecting no answer to your knocks at the door as usual, only to be met with the fallout of something far worse than refusal.

And then he was back, less jittery, less paranoid and less sleep deprived than he was before at least. But there was that thing in his eyes, that inherent distrust, detachment…? You struggled to find the words and if there’s one thing that you as a scientist can’t deal with is a question that goes unresearched.

So it began; your “research” depended on experiment and to experiment, you firstly decided to get close to your unwilling subject. And you go down the rabbit hole.

You find him in the basement, of course. He’s drawing on loose sheets of paper, some of the discarded pieces lay on the floor, and the cd player by his side is playing just loud enough to muffle your footsteps as you approach him by his right side. “Updating the journal?” You ask, nonchalantly, as if you hadn't obsessively turned each page of his journals before, as if your own handwriting wasn’t squeezed in the first ones before his old muse took all the space left.

Ford just hums, raising his chin slightly, but not his eyes, just to acknowledge the question. “Not really, just trying to get some proportion practice. Looking back, some of my work on the first journal was… Not the best.” 

A chuckle leaves your mouth; “If you say so…” You hum, picking up one of the filled out pages that were pushed aside in the table and pretending to look it over as he places his pen down and looks up at you.

“Any advice?” He asks, and once again you pretend to be paying attention to anything but him and his every movement.

“Not really… I think you’re good.” You place the paper back at the table, leaning against it. “Thought you’d be going through your abstract phase by now, honestly.” And you smirk down at him.

He leans back, crossing his arms; “I fear I’m too logical to have an abstract phase, even my craziest dreams have math and science behind them.” And you both laugh, and your curiosity itches more and more every millisecond.

The next words that leave your mouth were planned and inwardly rehearsed, but they come out natural as a summer breeze. “Every tortured artist has an abstract phase, get on with the times, sixer!” It comes out as a joke, it's a test. And suddenly you’re too nervous to stay there, staring at him and waiting for a rebuttal. You push yourself off the table and zipline to one of the bookshelves, reaching towards the back of it, you pull the ‘eureka whiskey’ and the two cups.

He just watches you for a second, then accepts the cup as you pour him one, then one for yourself. 

And it’s truly the eureka whiskey, because goddamn you just found something in those eyes. 

He takes a sip; “Yeah I guess those portal days would do for some good surrealist pieces at least.”

“I can’t even imagine.” You say.

He smirks, lips inches from his cup. “You can’t…” He takes a sip. “That’s the point of surrealist.” You want his brain under a microscope, you want his breath mixing with yours, you want to never see him again, you want to wake up near him every day.

The curse of science is that in the endeavor to figure out the world, the scientist often loses sight of themselves. 

The witty remarks, the planned lines, the psychological strategies, all fly out of you head and you lean back against his desk. He’s leaned further back now and his chair is turned diagonally towards you and he watches with a smile and those eyes. “What did you see?” It’s almost a whisper, because you think he might actually tell you, and that scares you more than anything.

“Too much…” He swallows, sighs, takes a swing of whiskey and rests the empty cup on the desk. “It was very chaotic, honestly that’s all I want to say…” You sigh, pushing yourself up to sit at his desk, and his head tilts as he watches you. 

“I’m glad you’re back.” You settle, even though it doesn’t even come near to all the things you want to express. He smiles, and his eyes travel down, landing on your hands, holding your barely touched whiskey glass. You follow his gaze, and chuckle. “I’m more of a whine person.”

“I know…”

[khaotunq]

gif request | Drake Sattabut as Plakao and Title Kirati as Blue (Wandee Goodday, 2024)

[canon-gabriel-quotes]

Transcript:

I'm genderless.

I'm full of gender.

I'm a malewife.

I'm a biblically accurate angel.

I'm a pop idol.

I'm the fourth incarnation of God.

I'm a convicted criminal.

I can never die.

End Transcript

Audio Source

[queersrus]

i need names, pronouns, and titles for a wolf loverboy

names:

wolf, wolfe, wulf, wolfram cannon, cathwulf, connor, conchobhar, conri, cuan randy, rolf lupe, lupeta, lykos ingo, ingolf howl, howle, howler ulfr fenrir, freki, feilan, faelan, fael geri, grey/gray beowulf

more here

prns: - 3rd p

wo/wolf, wolf/wolfs, wo/olf, wolf/wolfing, wolf/wolves, wolf/raven, wolf/lover, wolf/loverboy pack/packs hunt/hunts, hunt/hunter, hunt/hunting, how/howl, howl/howls full/moon moon/moons grr/grrs, grr/growl, growl/growls, grey/wolf claw/claws bite/bites arctic/wolf raven/wolf lover/boy, loverboy/loverboys

titles:

the lover of wolves, the wolf lover, the wolf, the wolf loverboy, the loverboy, the boy who loves wolves

(prn) who loves wolves

wolf lover, lover of wolves, loverboy of/for wolves, wolf boy

[thomascromwelll]

James Frain and Henry Cavill as Thomas Cromwell and Charles Brandon in The Tudors | 3x08 — 4x01

requested by @cosmicwalkersmain

[teabutmakeitazure]

Congratulations on 1000 followers, 1000 mouths to feed, and 2000 watchful eyes (｢• ω •)｢ Couldn't happen to a better writer ♡

I saw you sneak Illumi on that list. I am very frightened of the needle man. Can I request something with the first time Illumi realizes he is obsessed with darling?

Perforate and Permeate

>Yan! Illumi x Fem! Reader

>Word count: ~3.4k

Red flags start appearing in the form of odd piercings on taxi drivers. The feeling of something horribly off surrounds you, but in the end, some people are always powerless, aren't they?

The first red flag of the evening was the creepy taxi driver. There seemed to be some sort of yellow ball stuck to the skin on his neck, and his movements and speech were somewhat robotic. The second red flag was that he offered you a ride without you even calling for one.

Thankfully, the evening rush hour helped you get away from the peculiar man, and you slid into the subway train, hidden and safe among the numerous people around you. Ironically enough, it felt a little hypocritical to find comfort among the number of people since you were always adverse to crowds. The smell of sweat and close proximity of human beings made you a little nauseous, but right now it felt safe.

The third red flag comes in the form of your apartment building’s watchman being absent. He never takes a day off and always ensures that the other watchman - the man who usually works as the receptionist since for some reason there’s a desk and everything in the lobby - takes his place while he’s away for food or such.

Neither men were there and as you press the elevator button to your floor, you catch a shadow in the corner of your eye before the doors close. The fourth red flag is that your apartment windows are open. Not all of them, but the living room windows are open. You’re absolutely certain you had left them closed when you left. You could even swear on it.

Nevertheless, some sort of dismissive hope deludes you into believing that the wind opened them and you don’t dare come any closer. The reminder to check their locks is pushed into the back of your mind when you fall onto your bed face first. Silence envelopes you, its warm hands granting you the comfort of your home.

Despite how quick the comfort came, all relaxation leaves your bones when your phone rings. As you accept the call and press your phone to your ear, you realise you almost drifted off. Your mother’s voice greets you before turning into a scolding one when you tell her you just got home.

The conversation goes as it usually does, your nerves calming down despite the subtle feeling of not being alone. You don’t blame your scepticism. Ever since you moved out, you’ve always been careful and paranoid. Maybe it has to do with preferring silence and being around less people, but you don’t like the lonesomeness and silence as much as you thought you did.

You say goodbye to your mother on the phone, and sit up, groggily making your way to the kitchen. The silence of the apartment unnerves you, so you turn on your phone’s flashlight and check every single room and cupboard of the house, leaving all the light bulbs on.

The apartment is now fully illuminated and the TV plays some random news show while you cook. It makes for good white noise and you don’t feel as alone anymore.

But you still feel watched.

The curtains are promptly drawn over the windows.

Thankfully, the feeling goes but quickly returns when you sit down to eat dinner. The panic that arises constricts your throat, heart beating in your throat and you immediately dial your mother again, praying that the paranoia dies down.

It doesn’t. She never picks up. 

Three phone calls later, she picks up but excuses herself saying that she’s going out for lunch with your father. The time zone difference makes you frown, realising that you're ruining her weekend with your baseless paranoia.

Dinner gets your attention back, but something seems to have its attention on you.

You're cognizant of the sounds coming from the street, television muted. The drip drip from the kitchen sink sings the vocals while the refrigerator buzzes the music. Exhaling, you pay attention to the noisy details, dinner finished and an empty plate in front of you.

The feeling goes away soon, but comfort doesn't return.

-

The first red flag of today's evening follows behind you. A man with his hoodie hiding half his face is trailing behind you, and you're briefly wondering how dense he must be to not realise that you're leading him in a circle for the fourth time. You don't mind the extra walking, but it's pretty annoying.

Should you lead him to a police station? Losing him doesn't seem to be an option. He's persistent. Even in the fifth circle, he's casually walking behind you.

You go ahead with making your way to a nearby station, but he slips away when it's in sight. Your eyes watch the man as he heads the other way, an uneasy feeling stirring in your chest at the loss of someone's eyes on you. As you make your way back to the subway station, you contemplate walking home instead. Maybe you could drop by a café or even pick up dinner from somewhere.

However, a second red flag appears while you are in your thoughts. A taxi stops in front of you when you're scrounging around your bag for your phone and the window pulls down to reveal a taxi driver with a strange yellow piercing between his eyebrows.

The driver offers you a ride, and you stare at him dumbfounded. You didn't call for a taxi. A few passer-bys send you confused looks, but you brush it off. The man is promptly shut down and you walk away, mentally cursing yourself over the lack of crowd on the street.

Almost as though on cue, a lady grabs your arm. Her grip is unyielding and she frantically explains how you need to come with her. A familiar yellow piercing on either side of her neck greets you when you turn to look at her, but any composure you have quickly dissipates when she starts pulling you.

It takes everything you have in you to pry yourself off and run in the other direction. The few people that did stare at you turn away when they see you running, and honestly you don't blame them. No one wants to get tangled up in something like that.

By the time your legs start hurting, you're almost home. There's no time to pick up anything from a restaurant so you make a mental note to order in instead. As you walk with your phone in hand, the situation dawn's on you. Three red flags already. You don't even want to know what the fourth one will be.

But alas, the heavens never hear your silent pleas and the fourth red flag stands in the watchman-less lobby of your apartment building. You hadn't seen either men today as well, and simply seeing the person who casually leans against the wall with eyes fixed on you is making your heart do literal backflips inside your chest.

"[Name]."

The simple greeting makes you freeze. Hands grip your bag tighter as you look into his bottomless eyes and greet him back with a simple hello. He doesn't seem to mind your nervousness and gets straight to the point.

"I wanted to see you. It's been quite a while."

Your finger remains on the power button of your phone, ready to press it five times at the earliest notice to send SOS messages to your friends. Upon receiving no response, he continues, trying not to eye your deathly grips on your belongings.

"How was your day?"

"It was… fine." Voice meek, you don't know what to say to him. It's not everyday you see a person such as himself. "How… have you been, Illumi?"

The question seems to perk him up. "I'm not quite sure, but I suppose I've been alright. I do want to ask you something. Why are you holding your phone and bag so tightly?"

The muscles on your legs go taut, and you briefly glance at the elevator door thinking you could make a run for it. However, the reminder of Illumi's occupation mocks you. Of course a hunter wouldn't let you go so easily.

"I'm not sure." Your words are unsure as you speak. "I guess I'm not feeling very well."

"Should I get you medical attention?"

"No. Not that kind of not very well. I just feel a bit down, that's all."

He seems to have understood something because he's nodding. "I see. If there's nothing wrong with your physical health, it'll go away. Make sure to rest properly and you'll feel better."

"Thanks. I'll go to bed early tonight."

"Are you free right now?"

Free? Does he want something? You're no help to a hunter. "I'd like to get to bed as soon as possible, but I'm willing to hear you out."

Your grip on your phone loosens a bit, and Illumi immediately takes a few steps closer. Hardly a foot of space is left between the two of you, but before apprehension can return, he's demanding all your attention with his words.

"May I have your phone number?"

What?

"My… phone number?"

He nods. "Yes. Your phone number."

The dumbfounded look on your face makes him blink at you owlishly. 

"I was wondering whether or not it would be appropriate for me to ask for it. I suppose I settled with ignoring the thought."

Did he… really just admit that? 

"Um, alright. I don't see why not." You know where I live anyway, the voice in your head continues. 

You share your contact information with Illumi, but you have no idea why he wants it. His intentions are as clear as muddy water. It doesn’t make you feel any better, but if nothing, at least he asked you for it. With his licence, he could have obtained your number with ease like how he ended up in your apartment's lobby. You give him only a few points for human decency.

When he’s done saving your information on his phone, a satisfied look is on his face. The silence of the lobby remains as you wait for him to finally let you leave. That is to say he doesn’t request to visit your apartment.

“I think that’ll do.” Illumi looks up, head tilting slightly when he sees your exhausted expression. “You should rest. I won’t stop you. Just seeing you this evening is enough for me. We can talk some other time.”

Talk? What would you both even talk about? The only reason you know him is because some target of his was your work client and he scared him off. Honestly, never hearing from that man again is one of the best things that happened in your life.

“Sure,” you reply with a very obviously unsure voice. “I’ll see you later then.”

Illumi waves you off and as you step towards the elevator, you feel a little shameful for not inviting him for dinner. But then you remember that you live alone and he’s an adult man. Perhaps it’s better to not do so.

As you press the button, you glance back at Illumi down the lobby. He's waving at you, so you wave back. The door starts to close and the expression on Illumi's face changes. Lips curl upwards, eyes crinkling as well.

When the door closes, you're thankful for the distance. You never want to see that horrifying grin on his face again. It sent shivers down your spine and it seems like the creepy smile is now engraved into your brain.

Had you not been in the elevator, you would've ran out the lobby. Perhaps some people are better off expressionless after all.

-

It's been an entire day since Illumi took your number. There's been no contact, no message, nothing. As you stare at your phone sitting in front of you on the sofa, you think back over today's evening bitterly.

There was another taxi driver with the same yellow piercing. Added to that, an old woman with the same piercing had approached you and asked to walk her home. You declined. Though it felt bad to say no to an old lady, you didn't want to possibly find any unwanted trouble.

Besides, there's something definitely wrong going on. After the old lady, you found the watchman in the lobby. Even he had a piercing on his face, in between his forehead to be precise.

You didn't bother to reply to his greeting this time. There was something off about his smile.

Maybe you should move out as soon as possible.

However, that's not what's bothering you. It's the fact that there have always been four red flags. This evening, you only came across three.

The thought of an impending fourth one makes you feel nauseous. You're home now, back to safety. There has never been anything bad between these four walls, so why would there be anything now?

Maybe you missed counting a fourth one. Yes. That's it. You just missed one red flag. The thought doesn't do much to console you, but it's enough to allow you to sleep when your head hits the pillow. Unfortunately for you, that doesn't last very long.

The feeling of a pair of eyes wakes you up with a startle. You immediately throw away the covers and run to the switch, turning on the lights. Nothing. The same goes for the rest of your apartment. All the lights are on but there’s nothing out of place.

Are you going crazy? 

It must have been a bad dream. You still feel watched, but that’s just because you just woke up. Water. You need some water.

The glass is quickly emptied as soon as you fill it, and now you stand alone in the kitchen, the silence of the night and the refrigerator’s hum your only companions. The kitchen counter is cold underneath your lingering fingertips, and begrudgingly, you part with it.

Sleep doesn't come back easily. At least half an hour must’ve passed with no sign of slumber’s gentle embrace, so you get up and turn off the bedroom light. The door is then left open only a little bit to let some light from the living room bleed inside the room.

It doesn’t help much, but your eyes feel less burdened.

Upon turning to the other side and nuzzling into the sheets further, the lessened burden seems to increase again. There’s someone resting their face on the mattress, body probably sitting on the floor and this person’s eyes seem to be fixed on you.

It takes you blinking a few times and sitting up to realise this isn’t a dream.

By the time your eyes have completely blinked away any sleep, a hand is slapped over your mouth to stop you from screaming. Your chest heaves as you follow the arm to the body it’s attached to and finally the face.

Illumi.

“Pardon me if I woke you up. It wasn’t my intention.”

The mattress dips as he joins you on the bed. If the circumstance wasn’t unfortunate enough, he’s now literally hovering over you with one of his knees between your parted legs under the blanket. Long black hair cascades around his face as he leans in, large eyes observing your features.

You blink at him as your breathing settles down. The lack of action from Illumi’s end does help your nerves calm down a little, but the threat of an obviously more powerful man literally above still remains.

This is your fourth red flag.

The weight of his observant stare weighs you down, the feeling of a boulder on your chest making you sink backwards into the bed. All that you see are Illumi’s large, dark eyes. It’s suffocating and you want to scream, but the sound dies in your throat before he even lets go.

You don’t dare make a single noise as he sits up straight on your thighs.

Illumi briefly breaks eye contact, eyes dropping down to your collarbones peeking from your neckline from the dishevelled state before his eyes go back up to yours. The weight of the boulder had lifted during that time, but with his eyes back on you that weight goes to your consciousness.

“I suppose I should commend you for not screaming. Seems like you’re quick to understand.”

All he gets in reply is your nervous gulp.

“You require an explanation, don’t you?”

This time, he tilts his head at your lack of response.

“I gave myself an ultimatum. Four tries every evening for every working day of this week are all I have to work with. If your refusals of my lenient methods bother me, then I must get to the bottom of the feeling. If I am not bothered in the slightest, I must stop wasting my time.” Iluumi pauses, possibly in anticipation of some sort of response, but continues. “I suppose my presence here at this hour explains which conclusion I had come to.”

He waits again for a few moments but ends up explaining his own words himself when you’re still frozen in what he thinks is shock. “Your refusals bothered me. I can’t be certain why. Even your less enthusiastic response to me asking for your phone number bothered me.”

You’re still staring at him. Mind barely processing the words. Illumi is in your room in the middle of the night. Illumi is a hunter, a potentially dangerous person, and he’s caged you to your own bed. This is the most vulnerable you’ve ever been in your life, yet you can’t even bring yourself to cry over the absolute fear you feel because of the intensity that keeps growing and radiating from Illumi.

“You occupy my thoughts more than I would prefer, and the only cure I found for that is to watch you when you’re home. No other activity soothes it.”

His index finger and thumb hold his chin as he continues thinking over the matter, but his eyes are still fixed onto you. When his eyes widen slightly, the intensity you felt grows dramatically and you have to reflexively cover yourself till the top of your head with the blanket to not end up asphyxiated.

A hand gently pulls down the cover till your chin, and luckily, the intensity mellows enough to allow you to breathe.

“I came here tonight to understand why trying to sleep on my own causes me distress. It’s like I search for you in my own bed, and the lack of your presence makes me restless.”

He leans in, hands sinking into the mattress on either side of your hips and you instinctively shrink into yourself. Voice perfectly even, the tone betrays the depth of his words. “I talked to my mother about this feeling and came to a conclusion. I’m in love with you.”

Sweat starts to bead at your forehead, but Illumi’s eyes refuse to allow you any reprieve. One of his hands sneak up your body, fingertips gently tracing the outline till his hand lightly wraps around your throat. The grip is non-existent but the threat of a not so well meaning squeeze still exists.

“All I need to do is squeeze. A fragile human such as yourself would give in to death in under ten seconds if I do decide to test my grip. However, even the mere thought of it bothers me. Even now, I can’t bring myself to hurt you.”

The hand moves further upwards, cupping your cheek despite the sweat. “At first I thought you were using some kind of Nen to bewitch me, so imagine my surprise when I found out that you’re a non-user.”

You finally manage to shakily exhale through your mouth, but the beating in your heart suddenly becomes too loud when his thumb traces the edges of your lips.

“I thought I should kill you to get rid of your spell, but the thought of you not existing anymore made my chest ache.” Illumi sighs. “Seems like the damage has been done, and it’s quite a lot. With how the majority of my thoughts are about you, I could even claim that I’m obsessed.”

The intensity grows again, and it gets even harder to breathe in the cool room. When Illumi’s thumb forces your lips open and presses down on your tongue, you can only hope you’ll be safe. After all, the look in his eyes is absolutely frightening.

[blood-starved-beast]

Do you think Nemesis fantasizes about being the Knight to Melinoe's Princess and being quest-given to fight Chronos for her or something. Then she sees Melinoe out on the Run somewhere covered in blood and bruises and such and it fills her with unfathomable rage.

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