#something something female rage but the rage is just murdering people

[eye-of-the-tigerseye]

Lisa Frankenstien is to me what Jennifer's Body was to millennials what Heathers was to Gen X and I think there's something sacred about that.

[theealbatross]

fight the alchemy (s.s)

Plot | After a tumultuous year, Sebastian’s life was finally okay – passable, up-to-scratch, satisfactory. And he had just almost reached peace – when his brilliant, painfully observant, carelessly crude genius of a friend, Garreth Weasley, started pointing out unnecessary facts that could rip all that harmony to shreds.

or, Garreth asks why Sebastian isn’t dating you. Sebastian spirals.

Tags | fluff, sebastian is a thought daughter, low self esteem, seb is a playboy BUT NOT REALLY, horny thots but we keep it pg, insecurity so deep you try to fight cupid, cupid fights back

An Ashwinder’s wand to his neck and Sebastian could honestly and truly say that he was … alright.

Life wasn’t perfect, by any means. His uncle was murdered dead, an estranged twin sister in Paris who refuses to answer his letters, a mistrustful Ominis that breathes on his neck, and a tattered companionship that was barely hanging on by a thread.

But he was okay.

Thankfully, Solomon was still dead, Anne was still alive, and still cranky Ominis is now open to reconciliation. Plus, if all else had fallen, he at least managed to save your cherished friendship thanks to your forgiving nature.

Thus, as thanks to the people who had not yet given up on him, he had sworn to live the rest of his academic life as a meek, unassuming, law-abiding student of Hogwarts.

And he did such a good job at it.

The professors are now impressed at his steadily increasing grades (so much so that the Ravenclaws are now finally seeing him as a threat again) and he even managed to make Imelda’s team as her beater to keep him occupied.

The latter, however, had a grating consequence – he had become popular.

It was thrilling, at first, he went on dates to make up for the years he had lost, kissed the pretty girls because it felt like he should (as one of the few bastards lucky enough to live every raging teenager’s dream), and accepted the slaps on the face politely when they inevitably broke up.

But now he’s just gotten tired and bored of it all.

Ominis says it’s a genius’ folly, to always find a fault in something and then drop it when it doesn’t quite meet his standard of perfect. Leander says he’s just a bastard.

He cups his face with his hand, wincing. Her fucking ring caught on his skin and he can’t be arsed to suffer through the bitterness of a Wiggenweld Potion for a mere scratch.

Garreth doesn’t bother to swallow his bread before saying, “Really, mate? I thought you liked this one?”

“Liked her rack, more likely,” Andrew quipped from his seat on the stone steps of the boathouse.

Sebastian threw his scarf on his face, satisfied at his squawk.

“No talking about my ex-girlfriends,” he warned. It was one of his few rules when it came to his male friends. He may be a bastard but as someone with a sister and a couple of good female friendships, he makes it a point to never become one of those losers who talk badly about women they have a history with. Just so he can have a moral high ground when he beats up anyone who might do it to his friends.

“All right, all right,” Andrew raised his hands in playful surrender, throwing Sebastian’s scarf back to him. “But as your friend, I think it’s about time you stop swapping out girls every time you get bored of them.”

“I don’t swap them out,” he rolls his eyes. “Breakups are normal.”

“Breakups are normal,” Garreth points out. “Six breakups in 2 years is an issue.”

“Maybe I’m just meant for the bachelor life,” he mumbles, ignoring the pointed accusation from Garreth. Fucking perceptive prick. “Not everyone gets to meet their soulmate in Hogwarts, asshole.”

Garreth grins, “Natty’s great, isn’t she?”

Sebastian and Andrew both throw their scarves at him, the three of them bursting out in laughter and boos.

“To the Three Broomsticks, then?” Andrew stood up, patting his pants.

As 7th years it was nearly impossible to take a breather with the looming threat of exams that will dictate the rest of your life and the inescapable trap of adulthood that awaits them in a couple of months. So, his friends had made it a point to at least go out once every week whenever they could, really take advantage of their last year as students where they had no other responsibility but to survive the week.

In a year’s time, seeing each other as often as they do will be nothing short of a miracle.

“Leander and Everett are already there, saved up a table since it’s a Friday, it’s gonna be packed full,” Andrew explains.

Sebastian looks around, eyes scanning the castle in the setting sun. “You go on ahead I’m waiting for –”

“Sebastian!”

A flash of movement appeared rushing down the stairs towards the boathouse, your face beaming as you waved to the three of them. When you were a foot away from him you jumped into his arms, shrieking energetically when he grabbed your waist and lifted you above his head.

“Sorry, I’m late,” you pant, smiling at your friends once you’re back on the ground. “Professor Hecate asked me to stay back for a minute, something about revisions on my research.”

“I can’t believe you got permission to research in The Restricted Section after the crazy nonsense you pulled in 5th year,” Garreth shook his head. Sebastian wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to his side, beaming in pride. Nobody knows but the two of you that the very thing you were researching were the technicalities of how you broke Anne’s curse so it could be taught to the nurses in St. Mungos and hopefully spread to the rest of wizardkind.

“It’s exactly because I had the nerve to break the rules that I was given the honorable opportunity,” you dramatically curtsied. “And they said Gryffindors were the brave ones.”

That made Sebastian laugh. Garreth blinks, eyes squinting at him for a second but he doesn’t look offended, more … focused on Sebastian.

“Alright, no more of that House Rivalry. Quidditch Season is over,” Andrew quips.

“Wiped your asses there too, Larson,” he quipped, Andrew’s jaw drops, looking at Garreth for help and receiving none. He was still staring at Sebastian, eyes shifting between him and you.

Andrew groans. “Slytherins are assholes.”

Slytherins are, apparently, also light-weights.

Well, at least one of them is.

He adjusts his hold on your body as the other hand wraps his coat around your body properly. After your last ‘improved’ butterbeer you had slumped into his lap, rudely snoozing off on the crook of his neck and refusing to wake up even when it was time for your group to leave – not that he would’ve allowed that to happen, with your demanding research it was a miracle to get you to sleep let alone let loose.

The rest of the group had gone in first to scope the scenery and bribe the patrolling Head students with leftover chips while he and Garreth were stuck carrying you and an unconscious Amit that they had managed to catch last-minute in Hogsmeade. Poor bastard.

“I was thinking –”

“Please don’t,” he groans.

“Why have you two never dated?”

Sebastian stops his fussing, barely able to use his head to ensure he keeps walking, and continue to Act Normal, now using both of his hands to hold you tighter.

“You’re drunk,” he deflects. The puffs of your breath warm his entire body.

“Because! When I think about it …”

Please, for the love of the great Merlin stop thinking.

“You’ve been inseparable from the start! I can’t believe it’s escaped my notice you’ve never dated. You say your past relationships got boring and got annoying but you’ve never been bored and annoyed with her and you’ve been friends for years!”

Bored with you? He’s had more near-fatal heart attacks because of you than breakups. Sebastian barely had the time to be bored. And sometimes you do get at each other’s throats but it was always fixed after a proper conversation. If his killing his uncle couldn’t turn you away then he doubts anything you do could ever turn him away.

“Plus, with all the respect and love to my beautiful darling Natty, she’s a fucking catch, mate!”

If Garreth wasn’t carrying a sinless half-dead Amit, Sebastian would’ve punched him in his mouth just to stop him from talking.

“I’m just saying,” Garreth walks ahead of him, clearly aware of the fuse he had just lit. Sebastian was tempted to kick the back of his knees just for the satisfaction of seeing him fall.  “Maybe you can join the club and find your soulmate in Hogwarts.”

Garreth winks.

“We’re still accepting members.”

He’s decided.

He needs to kill Garreth.

He has not been able to sleep properly for the past week and it’s all because of that ginger prick and his needless remarks.

“Why have you two never dated?”

Sebastian’s pencil cracks in his hand.

“Is he alright?” he hears an underclassman whisper on the other table. He glances at them and they flinch. Quickly, he softens his expression ("You really need to stop scowling at people, Sebastian."), unaware he had glared at them and sent a wary smile in apology. It would just be unfair to aim his ire at innocent people when he could just use it to rip out every strand of Weasley’s hair.

“He’s been staring at that page for an hour. Maybe we should call –”

He stands up, escaping.

Sebastian never realized just how much he spent his time with you until people were looking at him funny when he was walking or sitting alone in public places. At first, he thought there had been crumbs on his face or one of his asshole friends stuck a note on his back like a kid. Plus, he hadn’t been feeling his best since that night but he thought it had been the lack of sleep.

It wasn’t until he had met Imelda on the grounds that he found his answer:

“Where’s the rest of you?”

He blinked at his captain, “I’m sorry?”

She shook her head. “Man, it feels weird seeing you alone. Did you guys have a fight? You’re usually shadowing her like a puppy after class.”

Then everything clicks, the strange looks, the feeling of missing something (like a forgotten important homework after he had reached the top of the Astronomy Tower) – it’s been a side effect of avoiding you.

Okay, it’s not that he’s avoiding you per se. He just needs space. He needs to think and he finds that can’t do that once he feels your eyes on him. With his luck, you’re going to see right through him and that would just be unideal if not a fucking catastrophe.

That’s why he’s taken it upon himself to stay off your way until he puts his thoughts in a row and finally screws his head on straight again. Or he could just kill Garreth, get sent straight to Azakaban, and avoid confronting these complicated thoughts altogether.

“I can’t believe it’s escaped my notice you’ve never dated!”

He sits on a bench, hands on his head as he let out a prolonged groan, “The fucking bastard.”

Why did he have to point it out? Why did Garreth have to bring what he, upon reflection, had buried on the back of his head, just waiting for that one little flick of acknowledgment before it blew his brains out.

Because Sebastian is a lot of things but he’s not a fucking moron.

It’s not that the thought of being together is unpleasant. If he lets himself consider it his chest feels like it would escape his ribcage both in excitement and utter terror.

But Garreth was right: he’d never thought about it before – hadn’t thought the idea was conceivable in this reality.

He has a feeling it was his way of preserving whatever pure relationship he had left. He’s not exactly rich with true companionship and he’s not idiotic enough to risk it all over a bloody crush. 

And not just any crush – his best friend, the person who saved his life and then helped him rebuild it when he was finished smashing it to pieces. The one who never turned her back even when his blood had given up. The girl who has a line of eligible bachelors following her on their knees for a single chance, ones who could offer her more than he ever could – ones who could offer her the world.

So, yeah – forgive him, but he’s never really allowed himself to entertain the idea of them dating. Sebastian has tested his luck enough.

Unless the roles switch and he gets to save the wizarding world this time then maybe … yeah, maybe -- maybe in another fucking life.

The thought makes him stand up, walking straight out of the campus to hopefully drown the sorrows of the depressing state of his love life with the best fire whiskey Hogshead could offer. How does he even move on from this? How does he make peace with the fact that he has sealed his fate of living the rest of his life alone? 

It’s impossible, he’s decided. Even if he graduates at the top of the classes he is taking and gets accepted into the Auror Programme that Sharp had recommended him for, their social standing is still heavens apart. He’s an orphan, with a husk of an extended family and no money to his name.

It wouldn’t matter to you, never really cared for pure bloodlines or lineages and he knows anyone who brings that up when they’re courting you will receive the most disgusted look on your face. 

But he cares – you are the most special person in his life. He wants the best for you. And the best is not something he can provide.

His depressing thoughts halt as his steps falter, a familiar scent tickling his nose. A familiar scent that leads straight into the Forbidden Forest. When he looks up to the sky, he realizes the sun has almost finished setting.

She can’t be that reckless, right?

He was barely surprised when he chanted the incantation that triggered the charm they had both put in their necklaces, the sparkling thread leads straight into the forest. And if he knows you half as well as he thinks he does then he knows exactly where it’s gonna lead to.

There goes his late-night plan.

It isn’t exactly his first jaunt in the forbidden space but it still gives him the creeps especially so close to the night. Why you’re so fond of the place is something he’ll never understand.

But that’s just the way you were, just another part of your quirks that makes you so endearing.

How you throw your head back when you laugh, that you get so cranky when you’re studying that no one dares to approach you but him, even the way you messily eat your favorite chocolate pastry of the week yet never fail to share a piece with him.

With this new revelation, he bitterly accepts the reason for his philandering ways. That he simply is another prick who is coping with not being able to attain the love of his life at the expense of those poor girls.

His self-condemnation however was cut short when he heard the waterfall, not being able to help the smirk on his face when he turned the corner and found you just as he had expected: in the middle of the clear, dark, water, floating carelessly on your back.

Gods, you are a beauty. He’s always thought so, the entire male population in Hogwarts thought so too. If they somehow get to break through your walls and manage to get to know you, he might just have to beat them away with an actual stick.

“Sebastian,” you smile, his heart stops. “I knew you’d find me.”

You swim to him gracefully, barely disturbing the water with only your eyes above the water but there was no hiding the grin in your face. Like a pitiful sailor seduced by a siren, his feet dragged him to the edge, a short ledge above from where you were looking up at him.

“You left your scent on purpose,” he states, kneeling to get a closer look at you. What a beauty – mischievous, cunning, irresistible. He’s never loved anyone more. “Naughty, naughty, darling.”

She pulls herself up the ledge, their faces inches away from each other. He nails his eyes to yours so they wouldn’t be tempted to look down at your soaking figure cloaked only by a thin chemise “I had to get you somehow, knew you couldn’t resist a damsel in distress.”

“Funny,” he softly glares, chuckling when she preens, clearly satisfied that her plan worked perfectly. “With all the water in the Black Lake, you had to pick the Forbidden Forest to swim in.”

You dip yourself back down in the water, swimming away but still facing him. “Come, Sebastian. I’ve been bored all week since you’ve been avoiding me.”

Guilt runs through his spine at the sudden coldness in your offhanded comment. Clearly, his absence hasn’t escaped your notice as he had hoped.

Like a scolded pup, he follows your command to a T. Eyes never leaving your floating figure as he removed his coat, folding it neatly along with the rest of his clothes until he was left in his underclothes.

He winces at the touch of the freezing water. A heating charm would do wonders but the way your unsympathetic eyes never left his figure gave him a feeling that this was a punishment he was meant to endure.

He steels himself, diving into the water and only resurfacing when he is right in front of you. “You called?”

“You’re so fucking full of yourself,” you splash the cold water at him, shrieking when he reaches out for your arms and barely managing to slip away.

He dives again, grinning at your confused flounder, until you realize your mistake, looking down just as he catches your waist, your surprised shriek, and his unrestrained laughter breaks through the quiet of the forest.

“You done running now, pet?” he locks his hands on your back, pushing you close until he is carrying both your weight in the water, chin resting on your chest as your hands run through his soaking hair.

Your darkened hair frames your face, like a sheer curtain it drops, teasing his cheeks, and hiding your conversation from the rest of the forest – in the dimness, your eyes have never been more radiant, even if it was clearly pissed at him.

Skinship wasn’t foreign between the two of you. When you’ve saved each other’s lives from certain death more times than you care to count, cuddling is the least of your worries.

But there is something about the forest's silence, the sparse moonlight that peaks through the dense trees, the sound of the droplets falling from your hair to the water, and the distant echoes of the animals that make everything intimate. -- more intimate than usual.

“Are you?” you throw his question back at him mercilessly, your hands on the back of his neck, locking his face to look up at you – finally at you. The weeklong separation had been torture and now that the distance had cut his regular contact with his favorite witch, he finally realized how fast his heart was beating when he was around her.

He smiles.

He was satisfied, he swore he was.

Sebastian’s life was finally okay – passable, up-to-scratch, satisfactory. He shouldn’t strive for more, couldn’t allow himself that luxury – the luxury of love, the luxury of you.

But as he stares at your eyes, as he feels the ice in your skin, as he imagines a future where it wasn't him that gets to bite the plump of your lips – that dirty, greedy part of him crawls out of the hole he had shoved it in.

He feels it win.

“Are you done running now?” you whisper, a droplet falls from the tip of your nose to the space just below his eyes, his breath hitches, like your magnetic presence had sucked out all the air of the forest.

“I wasn’t running,” she raises a brow, and Sebastian presses his lips to your ears. “I was thinking.”

“And?”

Leander was right: he really is a bastard.

But he’s a bastard who will no longer wait for another life to love you. He's a bastard who will get what he wants.

“I think,” he whispers, at peace. “I think I’m gonna marry you someday.”

[kamisatomay018]

Confessions of the Heart

Sylus x MCreader (female)

Warnings: angst to fluff, angry sylus and reader, hurt/comfort, kissing

Wrote this after being inspired by what @bookfreakk posted. I hope you guys enjoy!

Sylus was the most infuriating man you had ever met. Since the day you landed in the N109 Zone, you couldn’t stand his haughty, arrogant and smug nature. You two would always argue, especially after the man made you shoot his heart. It made you panic, though back then you never understood why. You always believed he had killed your grandma and Caleb, and your hatred for the man ran deep. But something about his battered, bloody self tugged at your heart, conflicting you.

As time went by, you grew to hate his teasing, his games, his schemes. In your mind, Sylus was everything you never wanted in a man- arrogant, cold, prideful and most importantly- a goddamn Criminal.

Then why was it that your heart skipped a beat every time you looked into those dangerous ruby eyes? Why was it that you found your heart searching for the silver haired man even after you returned to Linkon? It bothered you so much, after all you hated him, hated his guts…right?

Or so you thought. As you lay in bed alone at night, your mind kept recalling the memories of the time your evol linked the two of you together- the closeness of being in the closet, his deep, teasing voice calling you Kitten, his tall, buff body and his stupidly handsome face. Fuck, it was too much. That was when you realised, to your absolute horror, that you loved him. You loved Sylus, and as much as he infuriated you, as much as you wanted to claw his eyes out, you also wanted to grab his face and kiss him.

Fuck.

No, this was so wrong. You couldn’t love him, he was a criminal, wanted by the Hunters Association. Being with him meant bringing disaster upon your life. And that man could love no one. The Sylus you knew kept people around depending on how useful they were to him. He wasn’t one to get attached, no. He was the leader of Onychinus, he was a bloody murderer. There was no way you both could ever work out.

And as much as it made your heart hurt excruciatingly, you buried these ridiculous feelings for him deep down. Perhaps it was just a convenience crush, maybe it was because he was physically attractive. But no matter how much you tried to deny it, you had fallen for his teasing, his boasting, his pride. You had fallen for Sylus.

Perhaps that is what led to your current situation. You glared at the silver haired man sitting in front of you, breathing heavily as you seethed in rage. There he was, sitting ever so casually as he bled, having suffered multiple wounds all over him after a ridiculously dangerous mission you had no idea about. Luke and Kieran had called you over in a panic, never having seen their boss this way. Sylus was basically untouchable in the N109 zone, which is why seeing him battered and bruised like this did unspeakable things to your heart.

“Are you out of your fucking mind Sylus!? Why would you go face so many people ALONE!?” You spat in anger, watching as he simply rolled his eyes, his evol surrounding him to heal his wounds. “Seems like a certain kitten has her claws out tonight” He all but spoke teasingly, only fuelling your anger.

“Is everything just a fucking joke for you!? Why would you ever think that this was a wise choice!?” You raised your voice, agitated by his nonchalant behaviour. Sylus frowned at this, standing up to look you in the eyes. “Enough now kitten. I will tell Luke and Kieran to not bother you with such trivial matters in the future.”

Trivial? You looked at Sylus as if he had lost his mind, your eyes burning with rage. Did he not care about his own life? Did he seriously not understand why you were so angry? Oh of course he wouldn’t, he wasn’t capable of loving someone at all. “Shut up Sylus! Why are you always so arrogant and prideful!? You may be strong but you are not invincible! Walking into a room full of armed men and trying to kill them is a stupid choice!”

Sylus felt himself get agitated at that. You had no idea just why he had chosen to kill those men, just why he had put his life on the line. His ruby eyes glared down dangerously at you now, his tone sharp. “I said, enough. Do not speak on matters you know nothing about. I can handle myself.”

You scoffed angrily, hating that you really did not know anything about his mission. Sylus had been strangely distant with you over the last month, making your heart clench in pain every day. You hated how you still loved him, despite his recklessness. “Oh yeah? You can handle yourself? If you truly were able to then you wouldn’t be here nearly dead!”

Something in Sylus snapped as you yelled out those words. He hated being doubted, he hated being considered weak even after he had conquered the entirety of the N109 zone. And he hated being doubted especially by you. By the one woman that he loved more than his own life, the one woman for whom he was ready to risk everything he had. He clenched his fists in anger, glaring down at you as his own voice raised now “Don’t you even try to doubt my abilities. And frankly Kitten; why are you so bothered by me dying? A few months ago you were glad to put a bullet in my heart. So why the concern now huh?”

Hearing those words was your final straw. You could no longer contain your anger, nor your feelings. “BECAUSE I LOVE YOU! AND I HATE IT!”

Silence, pin drop silence was all you were met with after your outburst. Sylus stood there, motionless, not being able to believe what you had just said. A huge part of him felt relief, so much relief because only heaven knows how much time he had spent being hopelessly in love with you. But the other part? Heartbroken it was, because you admitted that you hated loving him.

For the first time since you’d known him, you saw a rare emotion in Sylus’ eyes that you couldn’t quite understand. Was it anger? Was it sorrow? Was it..hurt? Your own hands trembled as you realised the weight of what you had done. Confessing your love for him was a dangerous move, one that could be potentially disastrous. But your heart could no longer help it. The sight of him bloody and injured, staggering onto the couch was too painful for you to bear.

“Why do you hate loving me kitten..?” You heard his deep voice say, much softer than before. Still as agitated as you were, you glared at him, responding. “Because I know you would never love me back. You..you don’t even know the meaning of love, do you? You only keep me around because I’m useful-“

You weren’t even able to finish your sentence before you found yourself pinned to the wall, Sylus’ face inches apart from your own. He was seething in anger once again, as if your words had hurt him more than the stab wounds he had a while ago. “How dare you assume that I do not know what love is, when I have spent Every.Single.Lifetime loving you, waiting for you..How dare you assume that I kept you around just to use you? After everything I do for YOU?”

You felt your lips part in shock as the weight of his words sunk in. Your anger slowly melted away as it was replaced by raw emotion. You looked into those hypnotising red eyes, searching for some form of mischief, some form of deception or teasing. But there was none. He looked at you with anger, but also with something so much more intense, something that made your heart race.

“You..you love me..? And..what do you mean by everything you do for me?” You asked him, voice soft as confusion swirled in your eyes. Sylus let out a shaky breath, his big warm hand cupping your cheek. “Sweetie..you have no idea how long I waited to meet you. I have always protected you from the shadows, keeping a watch to ensure your safety. Why do you think I went alone on such a dangerous mission? To wipe off The Nest, to wipe off the people who have hurt you, who have made you cry. I know you deemed me as someone incapable of love, but I have spent every second of my life loving you.”

Overwhelming guilt was all you felt at his confession. You had judged him so harshly, when he was out there seeking revenge on your behalf. Eradicating people who meant you harm. Putting his life on the line for you.

Tears filled your eyes as you cupped his cheeks, watching the way he immediately closed his beautiful eyes, nuzzling in your gentle touch. Your heart ached as you finally realised that the intense emotion he always looked at you with was Love. You were just too oblivious to realise it. “Sylus I..I’m so sorry..”

He looked at you again, chuckling softly as he shook his head, this time hugging you as he placed his hand on your head. “No need for any of that sweetie. I wasn’t exactly the best at showing my care for you. I may not show it but I do love you kitten. There is no love purer than mine.”

Tears rolled down your cheeks as you felt relief and happiness wash over you all at once. You hugged him back so tightly, as if afraid he would disappear. “Do you have any idea how scared I was when I saw you like that? I..I thought I’d lose you..” Hearing your shaky voice tugged at Sylus’ heartstring, leading him to hug you closer.

“Ah so that’s why my kitten was bearing her claws.” He teased you again, trying to lighten the mood. Seeing you cry was the last thing he wanted. But to his amusement, all he was met with was a gentle punch to his chest and a tearful “shut up” from you. That only made him chuckle more, leading him to pat your head.

“Don’t worry sweetie, you’re not getting rid of me that easily. Besides..” he gently raised your chin, making you look into his eyes. “I will always find my way back to you, you have my word.”

You knew Sylus always kept a promise once he made it. You smiled tearfully, nodding as you got on your tippy toes to rest your forehead against his, making him smile affectionately. His strong arms wrapped around your waist, steadying you like he always had. “Don’t scare me like that again. You mean more to me than any revenge Sylus. I need you by my side..”

Oh you were gonna be the death of him. Your sweet words only increased his love for you even more, something he thought wasn’t possible. “I will always get rid of anyone who dares to even think of harming you. But, I will be more careful. Can’t have my kitten crying like this again, I prefer it more when you give me that exasperated expression of yours.”

You laughed at his words now, shaking your head. “God you’re so infuriating.” He chuckled at your words, looking at you with the same teasing glint in his eyes, only this time, they were also full of tender love. “And yet you love me sweetie.”

You rolled your eyes at his smug voice, but you weren’t able to fight the loving smile that made its way on your face. “Alas, I do” Sylus smiled wider at that, leaning closer until your lips were a mere inch apart as he whispered “And I love you more than anything else.”

The next thing you felt were his soft lips engulfing your own in a kiss that was filled with longing and passion. You kissed him back immediately, heart fluttering with love as you realised just how hopelessly you had fallen for this man. The big, bad leader of Onychinus; the criminal wanted by the hunter’s association, the prideful infuriating man. But now you realised that in this moment, with you, he was just Sylus. Your Sylus. World be damned, he was all you wanted.

Tags: @radiantbrilliance

[nottheeconomy]

The beautifully dashing leader of the phantom thieves and the charming detective princess!

My take on fem shuake!!!

I like my toxic doomed yaoi but toxic doomed Yuri hits so much harder when it comes to these two

(Brainrot under the read more!)

If Shuake were girls they would be so much more volatile than canon it’s hilarious

Honestly if Akechi was born a girl instead of a boy his already terrible life would be twice as hard hahahaha

Fem Akechi would have a much harder time willingly refraining from directly murdering shido

Like canon Akechi is this close to just shooting him in the head anytime he sees him but fem Akechi would have so much more temptation to see him dead dead dead

She’s going to have to withstand his disgustingly sexist statements with a bright smile on her face as shido says things like “oh Akechi, you’re not like those other women that only serve to further this country’s great longevity through rearing the young, you’re different, more capable.” And she needs to let those slimy words go in one ear and out if she’s going to be patient enough for him to be elected first

Not to mention she’s going to experience so much more scrutiny as a public idol since she’ll be a girl

Like in canon he already has a questionable fanbase but just imagine the weirdos that’ll idolise her as the detective princess

And she’s definitely not going to be taken as seriously by people for her detective work because people would JUST WRITE HER OFF AS A PRETTY FACE!!!!

AAAAAAAAAAAAAA JUST THE THOUGHT OF HOW MUCH HARDER FEM AKECHI HAS TO CLIMB TO THE TOP TO GET TO WHERE SHE IS!!!!!

She’s going to curate every facet of her image to make sure people takes her as seriously as possible

Her style needs to be trendy but not too trendy or people would call her vain

She needs to be careful of showing too much skin or she’ll be slutshamed

She needs to word her statements more delicately or else people would call her annoying do you see the visionnnnnnnnn

Like canon Akechi’s public mask is already so tightly wound against his face, fem Akechi’s public mask would be a full suit of armour (get it get it? Hahahahhaha)

Meanwhile! If Akira was a girl, the notion of her being a meddler when she tries to stop shido would be much stronger I think

Also I have a feeling she’s going to get harassed at shujin for having her criminal record leaked instead of how in canon everyone left Akira alone due to fear since people won’t take her assault charge as seriously

And then there’s kamoshida…eugh

So in conclusion:

I just think both of them would have so much more pent up rage than in canon hahahahahha

Like I’m sure they would’ve physically thrown hands in the boiler room of shido’s ship, like forget about the personas they’re going to throttle each other as the rest of the thieves watch hahahahahahhaa

On the bright side though I can see fem Akechi being closer to Sae and the detective princess being a role model to little girls

Hm but I have a feeling the rivalry between Akechi and Akira would feel like those early 2010s tabloid articles about how female stars had beef with each other, like it’ll be framed as something super catty hahahahaha

Man these girlies are filled with so much anger, honestly it’ll be so iconic if Akechi and Akira were written as girls but I err don’t have that much trust in Altus!

These are just my silly headcanons for fem Shuake! If you disagree with what I said it’s ok hahahahaha

[falling-endlessly]

Boomerang (part 3)

Vox x Female!Ex!Overlord!Reader

Summary: Your infuriating ex is planning something, and it's putting everyone on edge. But if he wants at the hotel, he'll have to go through you (and Alastor) first.

<— Part 2 Chapter Index Part 4 —>

—6 HOURS AGO—

"What," Valentino growled, claws creating cracks in the table from how hard he was gripping it. "The fuck did you just say?"

Velvette was no better. Her lip was pulled into a furious snarl, and for once her phone was nowhere to be seen. "Vox, are you out of your fucking mind?"

"Relax," Vox reclined in his chair, raising a brow at his murderous business partners. Velvette's eye twitched and the table creaked in protest under Valentino's fury. "I'm not actually going for redemption, damn, calm your tits people."

"What happened to keeping up an image for the brand?" Velvette banged a fist against her armrest, gritting her teeth. "The Morningstar bitch was literally humiliated on live television, and now you're going to personally advertise for her?!"

"The next extermination is coming sooner than ever, and people are getting desperate. This little publicity stunt can work in our favor," Vox crossed his claws under his chin, megawatt smile growing. "What's a little pity pitch going to hurt? Think about it, I can gather intel, fuck up Alastor's little project, and show Y/n where her allegiances should lie. Win-win-win," he chuckled ominously.

"Cut the shit, Vox," Valentino scoffed, leaning forward to sneer in his face. "It's obvious you're only going this far for that bitch. Can't keep a leash on your toys, hm?"

Vox grit his teeth, digging his claws into his thighs under the table. He knew this wasn't going to go over well, but to be talked down to by someone who was benefiting from him? "So what if I am?" He hid his rage with a large, mocking grin. "And by the way, where's Angel Dust? Haven't seen him around in a while."

Val's face twisted with rage. "You fucking—"

"Enough!" Velvette snapped, glaring at both of them. "I don't have time for this stupid shit. Get on with it or this meeting is over."

Vox's unhinged smile slowly relaxed into his charming PR one. "Of course, my apologies Velvette, Val. I can see why you're not...convinced yet. Let me fix that."

The projector on the wall suddenly sparked to life, displaying three pie charts and a legend with many colorful categories. He gestured to them from left to right. "This is a distribution of our profits from ten years ago, five years ago, and last year."

"We have eyes," Velvette droned boredly.

Vox's antennae sparked in irritation, but he continued regardless. "Y/n's helped develop countless programs and softwares, and with her expertise our earnings jumped thirty seven percent, especially during the collaboration between Voxtek and DeepSpace VR. Now, what happens now that she's taken her business elsewhere? Hell knows she has the computing power to run it without our servers—"

"So, we're supposed to just bend over backwards for a few bucks?" Valentino snarled, crossing his arms.

Vox's screen glitched as he struggled to keep his composure. Thirty seven percent was not just a few bucks. But he knew antagonizing Val right now was more trouble than it was worth. "Val," he chuckled, sauntering forward to rest a hand on the backrest of Valentino's chair, leaning into his space. "Since when have you said no to money?" His eye widened, rings spinning.

"Since it walked out on two legs and ignored us," Valentino snorted.

"Val, I need you to see the bigger picture!" He grasped both of Valentino's shoulders, moving behind him so he could speak enticingly into his ear. "This is an opportunity to keep our brand at the top, and get dirt on that radio bitch. The future is what matters, and we are going to be the ones pioneering it."

The projector flickered to one of the surveillance cameras pointed at an exterior angle of the hotel. Then, the image suddenly rippled to show an artificial video of the same property, but instead of the tacky hotel, there stood a modern building adorned with a bright, neon V logo.

Valentino's smile grew at his last sentence, and he turned in his seat, leaning his forehead to rest against Vox's screen. "I like your vision, Cariño," he purred, grinning wickedly to show off his golden tooth. "But, if your little money-making cocksleeve doesn't come back, well, don't say I didn't tell you so~" he said in a sing-song voice, long tongue coming up to lick languidly along the side of Vox's monitor.

Vox's grin froze on his face, screen glitching.

Valentino chuckled, pushing out of his seat before strutting away. "Oh, and Vox baby," he threw a saucy wink over his shoulder. "Come find me when you get lonely, yeah?"

The double doors slammed shut behind him, bathing the room in silence. Which Velvette quickly broke, of course.

"What the fuck, Vox?" She scrubbed a hand down her face. "All this for a profit we can afford to lose? Really?"

"Velvette," his smile twitched up to full, blinding attention again. "Have I ever let you down before? Everything is under control, trust me!"

"Uh huh," Velvette scowled, unconvinced. "You know, Alastor and Y/n are the only people you've ever really lost it for, and you're going to a place where there's both of them."

"What, you don't think I can handle myself?" His smile strained.

Velvette shook her head, standing up from her chair and approaching him. "You know, that PR shit might work on everyone else, but I can see through your bullshit, Vox," she gave him a hard stare. "Just don't fuck everything up, got it? Or I'll make you wish you didn't."

His fists clenched as she walked past him, smile dropping into a scowl as soon as she was out of view.

****

—PRESENT—

"Whatever you do, make sure he's at least ten floors away from me," you muttered to Vaggie, watching as Charlie gave the bane of your existence an awkward tour of the hotel.

The atmosphere was so tense and suffocating, it was starting to make you incredibly antsy. The others were no better. Angel was drumming his fingers anxiously on the bar counter, Niffty was curiously regarding the new "resident" and Husk was already chugging his second bottle of hard liquor. Holy hell, and you couldn't even forget about Alastor if you tried, the radio demon releasing a constant stream of static and looking about ready to sacrifice someone—preferably Vox—in an incredibly painful and sadistic ritual.

"I can't believe she's letting him stay," Angel hissed under his breath, rubbing his temples in exasperation. "Actually no, what am I saying? This is Charlie, of course she'd let him stay. God damnit."

A tap on your shoulder made you turn around, only to find your favorite stiff drink on the counter behind you. You nodded gratefully at Husk, taking the glass and throwing it back like water.

"At least the hotel's in one piece!" Niffty chirped, her one eye back to tracking any stray insects. "Less mess to clean up." Her knife gleamed as she stabbed a cockroach clean in half with a deranged giggle.

"This isn't going to end well," Vaggie scowled darkly. "He's going to try something, I fucking know it."

"Yeah, no shit," Angel groaned, Husk grunting in agreement.

"Or," Pentious chimed in, hair flaring thoughtfully. "He truly does want to redeem himself?"

There was a silence as everyone turned to look at him incredulously, before a unanimous, resounding "no," rang out.

****

"Anddd here's your room key," Charlie presented it to him with a flourish, beaming brightly. "We hope you enjoy your stay! Breakfast, lunch and dinner are served downstairs in the dinning room, or you can go out and get your own food! We'll get your survey ready for you tomorrow so that you can start building your schedule."

"Schedule?" He quirked a brow, taking the room key from her outstretched hand. "For what, exactly?"

"Oh! Um," Charlie laughed, rubbing the back of her neck. "We actually host group therapy activities and trust exercises with the other staff and residents! You'll fill out a short survey so that we can personalize—"

"O-kay, let me stop you there, sweetheart," he chuckled, grin widening condescendingly. "I think it's great what you're doing, really, I do. But I've already got a schedule, and a billion dollar company to run. I'm quite the busy man, you know?"

Charlie furrowed her brow. "But—"

"Seriously, my sales would fall and what would my clients say? Hm?" A crowd booing track played in the background as Vox shook his head like she was just some uneducated child. "So thanks, but no thanks." He shot her a wink, before the door slammed in her face.

Charlie blinked in shock, taking a few seconds to process that she'd been dismissed in her own hotel. Her shoulders slumped as she trudged away.

But that only lasted for a few steps, before she perked right back up. What was she thinking? Giving up so quickly on one of her clients?

Charlie grinned, smacking a fist into her palm. She'd just have to try harder.

Unbeknownst to her, a figure had been watching the entire exchange from the shadows. Your jaw clenched, claws digging into the drywall.

"Unbelievable," you shook your head in disdain.

****

As soon as the door shut, Vox deflated like a balloon.

"Fuckkk," he hissed under his breath, sliding down the door tiredly. "The hell am I doing?"

He allowed himself only a few minutes to wallow in self-pity, before he sighed, pushing off the floor and getting to work. In less than twenty minutes, he had the whole room wired to his needs, electronic Voxtek devices littering the previously empty spaces. Now he had a way to travel without leaving his room.

He was just about to dematerialize into one of his laptops when a familiar, chilling presence made him freeze.

"Why, you only just got here! Don't tell me you're leaving already," Alastor chuckled, tilting his head in mock concern.

The radio demon was leaning an elbow against his dresser, just casually invading his privacy. God, just his smug face made Vox want to kill him already.

"What's it to you, old timer?" Vox sneered, electricity sparking from his claws in agitation. "Unlike you, some of us actually have responsibilities. So if you don't mind—"

"Oh my, breaking your word to Y/n already!" Alastor shook his head with a grin, sound effects of a heckling crowd emanating from his microphone cane. "How very...disappointing. Truly, I'd expect better from you!"

Vox's eye widened, the swirling rings on full display as his teeth grinded in rage. "Y-y-y-you keep her fucking name out of your filthy, cannibalistic mouth! You hear me?" He glitched furiously, electricity sparking in glowing webs from his monitor.

"Aha! Someone's a little on edge," Alastor laughed in tandem with an artificial, mocking laugh track. "Really, that was too easy! You're losing your touch."

"Get the fuck out of my room!" Vox snapped.

"Gladly," the radio demon grinned menacingly, the corners of his mouth stretching to unnatural proportions. "But first, I came to deliver a little message."

Vox gritted his teeth, curling his fists by his sides. His electricity buzzed under his skin, ready to electrocute the fuck out of this crazy fucker if he needed to.

"If you and your merry band of idiots pull even the smallest stunt to sabotage the hotel," Alastor approached him, antlers growing as his eyes turned to radio dials. "I think you'll find out that absence did not make my heart grow fonder."

"What, don't tell me you actually care about this place," Vox grinned, baring his teeth. "The whole redemption thing doesn't really seem to be up your alley, no offense."

"Oh, of course not! Haha! Don't be ridiculous," Alastor chuckled like he'd said something hilarious, but it was overlayed with bursts of radio static. "But I'm afraid I've invested too much in this source of entertainment for you to ruin it with your cheap, unoriginal touch."

The message was clear: don't touch my things.

Vox curled his lip, unwilling to back down no matter how utterly disturbing Alastor's demon form was up close. It gave him chilling flashbacks of their last explosive disagreement. "Then stay away from Y/n," he spat.

Alastor's grin widened, eyes glowing an eerie green as he held out his hand. "Is that a deal?"

Vox grimaced, looking at Alastor's creepy, voodoo doll appearance. "Hell no, you creepy fucker."

Then, like whiplash, Alastor's demon form receded and the air became breathable again. "Well, glad we cleared that up, then!" He laughed exuberantly, twirling his cane. "Nice catching up, chum!"

The demon grinned as he disappeared into shadowy wisps of smoke, melding with the darkness against the walls.

Vox's jaw clenched, electric anger vibrating through him and rattling his teeth. "Fuck!" He kicked over the first thing he saw, which happened to be a wooden workbench. It took a few deep breaths for him to finally calm down and collect his thoughts.

When he was no longer at risk of causing a city-wide outage again (that had been fucking embarrassing), he made his way back to his laptop like he was originally planning to do, only to pause in shock when he saw the brand new device short circuiting, screen full of pixelated static.

An explosive rage convulsed in his chest, the lights in the hotel flickering ominously.

"You red bambi ass fucker!"

****

<—Part 2 Chapter Index Part 4 —>

Taglist: @pooplyface1423 @spookysisters @that-one-weeb-buts-its-the-main @neito327 @hxzbinwrites @coleisyn @bababahannah @yellowsubiesdance @dirk-strides @justaspectatorforfandomarts @harmoira @sunnyslug @gum-iie @lady-valtieri @mit-suri @whatelsecouldgowrong @sillysimplysilky @eternalera @aoiyx @hazellight11 @hopefully-not @tsuvvy @imcryinginemo @dinorawrss @rekoloid @ayesha-eroticax3 @sle3pyh3ad2 @l0verboyxoxo1111

[itneverendshere]

alrighty imagine rafe feeling jealous for the first time in his life and absolutely not knowing how to navigate through it, so he just takes it out on you 🤗 he's down bad so it's funny

just a lil something for y'all:

rafe cameron does not get jealous.

why would he? he has the world at his feet—wealth, status, popularity, and seemingly limitless opportunities. got everything he wants and needs in his perfect kook-life, right? there’s absolutely nothing that could make him envious of others. he’s been moving through life with a sense of entitlement, accustomed to getting what he wants when he wants it.

that earth-shattering confidence translates into his sexual life. if there was such a thing as mastering the subtle art of not giving a fuck, god, he’d get a nobel prize for that shit. 

rafe likes to indulge in the pleasures of his fantastic mortal life without the burden of attachment of commitment, just thinking about tying himself up to someone else makes him want to drive his jeep into the nearest wall. 

that’s not the life he wants. that kind of bullshit gets people depressed or killed; he’s seen enough of that kind of misery in his lifetime. 

he knows he’s got a reputation by now. it precedes him, and he revels in it. and people say he’s a bad guy? please, he’s doing the entire female community a favor. there’s no point in restricting his independence for one person. 

no feelings involved, no clinging, and no, he’s not fucking cuddling someone after he just blew his load into their back. The women he involves himself with know what they’re getting themselves into when they open their pretty legs for him.

 it’s great. 

no stupid headaches, no fights, no “why didn’t you text me back?”, complete radio silence unless they want something from him or vice versa. sure, there have been a few girls who needed a collective reminder of his rules, which he does by always cutting them off.

no one’s ever made him want to throw his philosophy out the window. can you imagine that happening? rafe cameron…feeling…something other than complete horniness for someone else? enough to make him want to commit capital murder when someone else thinks they’re entitled to touch what’s his?

no, of course not.

that’d be insane. completely impossible. rafe cameron would never get his perfect hands dirty with filth. not in this universe or lifetime. 

or so he thought. 

“you have a real problem, you know that?”

if looks could kill he’d be seven feet under. you’re shooting daggers at him through your pretty eyes, hands settling on your hips. if he wasn’t raging with misplaced anger issues, he’d tell you how fucking beautiful you look tonight.

“me?” rafe grits out as he sticks his fingers into his chest, “you want to talk about problems, sweetheart?” his words drip with venom, a thinly veiled attempt to deflect the intensity of his own emotions.

you don’t back down, though, gaze steady and unwavering as you meet his challenge, “i’m not the one who just punched the living shit out of someone else!”

rafe's lip curl into a mocking smirk. "whose fault is that?” he quips, the barb aimed squarely at your intellect.

a violent urge to strangle him takes hold of you, anger nipping at your skin, “what the hell is wrong with you?”

he doesn’t know why he did it. all he remembers was that in that moment, while watching you entertain someone else, he wanted to snap someone’s neck in half. and he’d be damned if he didn't get what he wanted. 

rafe’s head tilts, oh so slowly, to the side, pretty blue eyes burning your skin, “i’m not the one letting some sleazy bastard get their hands under my slutty dress.”

that didn’t come out right. 

it made much more sense in his head. he doesn’t want to admit it, doesn’t want to acknowledge the gnawing jealousy that threatens to consume him whole.

“slutty dress?! this is vintage versace you possessive lunatic!”

“so fucking what?” he saunters closer, seemingly calm, except that’s the one thing that he never is, “did they run out of fabric in Italy?”

you watch him, a little mesmerized by the way the moonlight accentuates his features, heart pounding. he stops in front of you.

you must’ve taken a good hit to the head if you believe rafe cameron feels anything for you besides some sort of allure to your cunt. you know better than that. you open your mouth to speak, but rafe’s quick to lift one of his hands, tapping your lip with his finger.

“this is supposed to be like— a casual thing, right?” he exhales a breath, voice barely louder than a murmur.

you tip your chin up, “what are you getting at?’”

 “no strings. so, i really shouldn't be this fucking pissed about seeing you post a picture with that asshat face, smiling, his arm around you. that stupid fucking caption.”

straightening your posture, you don’t let his sugar-coated confession get to you, remaining silent for the time being. what’s his deal? is the devil spawn...confessing?

“speaking of photos…i just looked at a really cute one of you before, can you guess which one?”

and watch that picture be the one where you're on all fours in his truck's backseat lmao😃👀

[danswideslit]

slime video analysed thru horror with a queer pov

kay it gets its own post because im stil aaa bout it

This is just what I remember/was able to brush up on, since I studied this in 2019, so if anything is outdated I apologise, feel free to correct me, I love to learn!!

also I realized it has all become a lil rambly as I couldn’t contain my excitement soz

So this is my essay on the parallels of queerness in the horror genre and how DanAndPhilCRAFTS - Slime (2024) could be analysed in this light, especially given the creators’ personal history with the topic.

Among the classic tropes of the horror genre, is the topic of losing ones innocence.

Most emphasised is the loss of ones virginity, as a synonym for the innocence, although the innocence as such has many forms. As mentioned in Scream (1996), you may not survive if you have sex, if you drink/do drugs, or if you claim to “be right back” or in other ways investigate to satisfy your own curiosity.

The parallels to the christian church and societal norms are already obvious. If you deviate from the path of purity, it will lead to death and suffering. The only way to survive the night, is to stay pure. Do not be tempted by mere curiosities, for they will be the death of you, essentially.

In the same light, Baphomet is most often portrayed with characteristics from both the male and female human anatomy, and can be used as a metaphor for the inherent evil of gender expressions beyond the societal norm.

In the same light, monsters in various movies are often shown with a deviance in gender and/or sexuality. This role of ‘sexual outsider’ has, for years, been a symbolism that queer people have connected with. The has only further skewed the ‘stay pure’ narrative, as it brings on an ambience of kill or be killed. An either/or of sorts. But it has also made monsters and villains walk the line between sexy and terrifying, which naturally leads people to be enticed. We are sexual creatures afterall.

Often the monsters have an aura of masculine energy, as they make people cower, and the stereotypical jocks abandon their hardcore exterior. This, on one hand birthed the “the boyfriend is the killer” trope, but it also gave way for diving into morality, how many crimes can a villain get away with, as long as the character resonates with the audience.

This is demonstrated in Jennifers Body (2009) which was, at first, marketed to the male audience, making the monster Jennifer an attractive young woman, essentially getting the film marked as “Twilight for boys” by film critic Robert Ebert.

The ratings, however, were lackluster and claimed the movie was neither funny nor scary and thus was unsuccessful. Jennifer wasn’t “as hot as you’d hope she’d be” and essentially the “lesbians-for-the-male-gaze” marketing to boys 17+ failed. 

However, many women and young girls between 17-25 saw the character of Jennifer as empowering and resonated with the film. My theory is that the men did not like being the victim, being killed my something that they are supposed to be worse than. But the women saw a strength in the conflict between what is essentially two sides of the same existence - on one hand the rage of the injustice and gender inequality, and on the other hand Needy, who follows every character trope connected to the “last girl standing.” Except even she is tainted in the end, killing Jennifer and losing her innocence. (more talk about innocence, murder/virginity bla bla bla, okay but this essay aint about that)

All this plays a role in how the queerness of DanAndPhilCRAFTS - slime (2024) can be interpreted. Throughout all four installments of the narrative, Dan is seen being guided by Phil and scolded when he doesn’t do it right. Phil seems not at all surprised when Dans glitter face turns satanic, and by the third video, Phil hands the control over as he gives himself away.

Essentially, the indoctrination of Dans role in Phils devotion is cult-like. Cults are often hidden behind a facade of “found family” before the true behind-the-scenes terror is revealed. Dan is evidently comfortable in letting a more experienced person guide the way, despite his own hesitance. He knows that he cant do this halfway.

also the idea of Phil rising from the dead, during Easter… Jesus Christ, where would we even begin (lol)

But beyond that symbolism, It is the hesitance in Dans nature that seems to point to the “purity being tainted” horror trope. Phils devotion to Him is evident, but Dan seems more so to be devoted to Phil. A follower. Believing whatever Phil believes to be true. A Billy and Stu, Scream situation, if you will. The subtext of two lovers and the blurred lines of love and death, which has been analysed and discussed a whole while by smarter people than me. 

Dans hesitance to follow Phil guiding him to the other (queer) side. The penetrative stab and the menacing disarray of emotions on Dans face afterwards. This was anything but a selfish act, but he gave into the curiosity, he is not the last survivor, he has joined Him. This ritual was giving into love, without trying to contain, rationalise, or diminish any part of it. 

(Kind of how like dan, selfproclaimidly, would still be a ‘Daniel in denial’ if Phil hadn’t come into his life, because Phil ‘led him astray’ but he’s very okay with it and he has embraced it, and he’s happier giving in instead of fighting it?? Too far??)

[akajustmerry]

I've been thinking a lot about the hatred for alicent from fans online and I've realised that a lot of tv and film show enjoyers who claim to love "female rage" media actually only want "female rage" wrapped up in neat little package of catharsis and inoffensiveness. strictly talking about the series as a show here (I have not read the book) so this is not about fans with legit critiques of how alicent has been adapted ofc! but it's ironic seeing people with furiosa or pearl icons talk shit about alicent being a Bad Mother, about her being depressed, unkind, selfish, and hypocritical - as if this is not rage. A lot of you just want the single serve catharsis of violence or terror, the fantasy of flying off the handle - you don't actually care about attempts to accurately portray the anger women feel when they're oppressed. did you expect alicent to be a perfect and doting mother to children she had as a teenager due to marital rape in a forced marriage? did you actually want her to show kindness to her sons who murder and rape people? can you even sympathise with why she won't do those things? alicent is someone who never had an ounce of autonomy in her life and has spent her whole life furious about it with nowhere for that rage to go. because if she ACTUALLY lashes out in rage? well, you saw!!!!!!! it does nothing!!! because for women in highly patriarchal societies, their rage is met with apathy or punishment or death. one thing I deeply love about alicent in the show is how angry she is without any relief or healthy outlet for it. It's what makes her feel real. it's what makes her compelling. watching how terrible and misogynistic and vitriolic fans are towards her has really made me realise you don't care about female rage unless it offers you something, unless it comforts you! A lot of you don't want to face facts that a woman being angry is often uncinematic, and "problematic." you're confronted with just a fraction of woman character's rage with no catharsis, and you're oh so ironically calling her a bitch.

[fandoms--fluff]

Could you make a Hope x fem reader story we’re ready ends up getting in trouble at school for something stupid like getting into a fight and hopes worried at first but the once she knows Y/N fine she gets mad about her being stupid and getting the fight also if you can make Caroline in change of the school instead of Alaric bc he sucks

Together

Female hybrid reader x Hope Mikaelson

Warnings: Mentions of death and blood, and murdery tendencies?, anger/rage issues.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Can I go now" You huff, leaning back into the un-comfy arm chair across from Caroline Forbes, the headmistress' desk. Where she's sat, hands folding on the desk.

"No. You started a fight between two other vampires, killing one of them and almost killing the other." Caroline states, anger clear in her tone.

"So? They were annoying me and wouldn't. shut. up. They kept on going on and on about how much stronger they are than I am, even though I'm a damn hybrid. And so I snapped. Kind of. If I snapped all the way they'd be bloodied up way worse and both'd be dead. Not. just. one" You ground out, eyes turning an amber yellow and your veins appearing under your eyes.

Caroline shudders back and removes her hands from the top of the desk.

"Hmm, not so tough as you claim to be, or want to be seen as" You chuckle, not bothered with the caution and fear in her eyes and body stance.

"Oh come on, Blondie, no hard feelings, right?" You smirk and stand from the ugly chair, leaving the office with a mouth hanging open Caroline in your wake.

"Wait-ugh" Caroline huffs, giving up before she herself faces the consequences. She's annoyed with how easily you can get under her nerves and how, and she hates to admit it, she's a bit scared of you.

You have more than anyone has kept count of people you've murdered, and one more just got added to that giant never ending list twenty minutes ago.

Smirking, you walk down the hallway and head to your room. Once you got inside and shut the door, you sigh in relaxation when your head hit the pillow on your bed. You pick up the book from your bedside table and flip to the marked page you left off on.

"Please don't tell me what everyone is saying is true" Hope bursts into the room, slamming the door behind you. You look up to your girlfriend from the book and sigh.

"Is it really that bad?" You say sarcastically. "Yes, it is! Are you alright? Did something happen beforehand?" She exclaims, worry evident in her voice.

"Depends what you mean by 'something'" You relax back into your pillow.

"God, what were you thinking? Why did you kill that boy?" She huffs, sitting down on the foot of your bed.

"Well he was annoying so I fixed the problem" You shrug your shoulders in boredom. "Killing people is not a way to fix your problems, Y/n. Haven't we been over this before?! I swear we have" She's on the verge of yelling.

"So what if we have? You knew what you were getting yourself into once you started dating me, death, killing, trauma, the whole damn nine yards. Just like you. Except for minor differences obviously!" You stood up from the bed, crossing your arms as to not lash out and hurt your girlfriend. Even if you are fighting at the moment, you still care about her.

Sometimes you can't control your rage and you've ended up hurting people you love.

It all surprisingly got easier when your girlfriends father, Klaus Mikaelson, turned you into the only living hybrid this day. And ironically you ended up dating his daughter. Yeah, you're life is kinda...weird? to say the least.

Hope followed by standing up and tried reaching out to you. "No" You step away, backing into your desk. "Don't come any closer, I don't want to hurt you" You clamped your hands over your ears, holding tight until you couldn't hear anything but your thumping heart.

"You won't hurt me," Hope sighs. "Look, I know how the anger you feel is heightened, even more so than mine, but I'm here for you. All you have to do is let me in. And maybe ease up on the spontaneous murders." Hope walks over to you and pulls your hands away from your ears.

"At least at the school" She finishes. Baby steps, that's where she'll start. You chuckle in between deep breathes. "...Fine. We'll work on it. Together?" You slowly say.

"Yeah, together" She places a kiss on your lips.

[luminnara]

Feyd Rautha headcanons plsss

Like what was his upbringing and training like? How did he become what he is?

Okay I think about this A LOT and I just wanna say that I know people argue a ton about the original Dune book(s) vs the older adaptations vs the new DV movies, and these are just my thoughts! Frank Herbert was a great writer and he gave us complex characters with tons of subtext, but the original Dune was also published in the 60s and the other best known older adaptation is from the 80s, and both have some definitely outdated and not great stuff was used to show how bad a character was (like the Baron having an affinity for uh young boys who look like Paul 😬). I think that DV made some really smart changes to these characters that are more in line with contemporary thinking, while also remaining true to what Frank Herbert was trying to tell us about them—like the Baron is a Bad Man and Feyd is angry and impatient and definitely wants to kill him. ANYWAYS leggo, this is long and my thoughts jump around a lot but I hope you enjoy!

WARNING for some talk of SA! Also mentions of violence and murder and cannibalism, the usual stuff

The more serious ideas that are backed up by text and movie evidence:

Feyd-Rautha was taken from Lankiveil, a Harkonnen planet ruled by his birth father Abulurd (Vladimir’s younger half brother) by his uncle, Baron Vladimir. Feyd definitely knows this, and knows that Glossu Rabban is his older brother…so imagine all of the conflicting thoughts he must have surrounding his own position and future. On the one hand, he was taken and raised by his uncle so that he could inherit the title of Baron. On the other hand, he was taken as a punishment to his father. There must be resentment there, towards both his father and his uncle, and even his older brother. Even though Feyd was essentially chosen to become something more than Rabban, he grew up away from most of his immediate family. Even though he was raised to become Harkonnen royalty, imagine how he might have turned out if he had remained with his father, who had renounced the Harkonnen name.

He was brought up in a cruel and harsh environment. He was made into a killing machine, partly because of Harkonnen customs, partly because Vladimir enjoyed the carnage, and partly because it was the only thing a young Feyd ever knew. As a young man, he loves killing and shredding because it feels natural and is second nature to him, but does he ever wish he had known what it was like growing up in a softer environment? Food for thought.

He hates his uncle. In the book, he attempts an assassination. In DV’s part two, he mentions to the Baron that he should kill him, and the Baron laughs. Vladimir finds it amusing that Feyd would say something like that, because he knows he’s got Feyd under his thumb. Perhaps Feyd is even scared of him.

The Baron is, and was, cruel to him. In the book, after the failed assassination attempt, Vladimir tells his nephew that if he agrees to stop trying to kill him (lol), he’ll step down and let Feyd have his position. BUT he kills his darlings as a punishment (who in the book are female slaves, who act as his lovers)

I already have a ton of headcanons about his darlings in the DV movies, and I really think that Feyd cared for them. So imagine that your own uncle WHO YOU WANT TO KILL takes away the only things you care about?? That’s fucked up man

The Baron abused Feyd to some degree, very possibly sexually—I’ve seen a lot of people pointing out how heavily this is implied by the subtext in both the book and part two. Feyd is actually a complex character, but neither Frank Herbert nor DV really spelled that out, and you have to dig a little and think about it. While I obviously don’t want ANYBODY, even fictional characters, to experience something like SA, I think it does add to the depth of his character and gives more fuel to his rage. It also shows us just how terrible Vladimir really is. I’ve seen it suggested that this is part of what Margot Fenring means when she says that Feyd is sexually vulnerable, but I take that comment to more mean that he opens himself up to the possibility of harm a LOT in bed and that’s when he’s most emotionally vulnerable. BUT I don’t think those things are mutually exclusive

NOW THE MORE FUN IDEAS THAT I ENJOY (fun is a subjective term here lol)

Feyd-Rautha has a vulnerable side, and it’s very, very guarded. It’s buried so deep he may not even be aware of it.

He really does care for his darlings, and that’s the closest thing he feels to love. It’s a possessive, ownership kind of love that we would consider toxic irl, but they’re the only things besides his weapons and power that he cares about.

He doesn’t revere his weapons, but he respects them. They’re not personified, but he appreciates a good killing tool, and likes to take care of his knives.

He views lives as very black and white. There are people who can be killed (slaves, servants, rivals, his uncle), and people who ABSOLUTELY cannot be (his darlings, an SO, his hypothetical children)

He views everyone else as weaker than him, and it’s partially because his uncle would never LET someone as important to his plans as Feyd be harmed, so Feyd rarely feels that his life is actually in danger. Almost everyone he fights in the arena is drugged, and it isn’t like his trainer would fight without shields. He’d be confused and intrigued by someone who could actually defeat him, and he’s so into the art of war and battle that he would respect it (but also be upsetti)

He spends a lot of time watching and calculating in silence. While he’s impatient and has a short temper, he likes to learn about things that interest him.

He’s up to date on Giedi Prime beauty trends and sets a lot of the standards himself. He gets massages and spa treatments regularly and has been known to undergo more serious procedures.

While he doesn’t partake as regularly as his darlings, he occasionally consumes human flesh and blood and doesn’t think it’s weird, because he views almost everyone as lesser than him, so eating them is akin to eating livestock. Alternatively, I could see him going down the “I feel so overwhelmingly deeply about you that I must consume you body and soul” road about someone special but I really don’t think he’s got that brand of romance in him lol

Like lady fenring said, he is, in fact, sexually vulnerable. In the bedroom, he can let out his emotions, and sometimes they’re ugly and sometimes he needs to not be in charge for the night. He leaves himself open to manipulation and harm. Man just really needs a good hug tbh

Canonically hypersexual as a result of trauma

Is harsh as a result of a harsh upbringing, one that looked comfortable from the outside but was anything BUT for him. Beneath the surface, he’s messy.

Aggressive because he’s always had to be to survive. His uncle probably wouldn’t have killed him because he was always integral to Vladimir’s plans, but did a young Feyd know that?? NO

is NOT well traveled. He’s lived on Giedi Prime his whole life, has probably seen Lankiveil, which is cold and watery, and has been on Arrakis, but I think he would NOT know what to do if he was on a lush green planet. All he knows is harsh, extreme environments. If you plop him down in a meadow, he will have NO clue what to do

As a child, he watched his uncle kill anyone who inconvenienced him. This definitely warped Feyd’s concepts of kindness and the value of life.

His childhood was just unbelievably strict and harsh and at the same time he was spoiled in certain ways, and that has led to him growing into a pampered yet still caged man

He would LOVE to slaughter his uncle and feed him to his darlings

In an arranged marriage, something about his spouse would have to suddenly intrigue him, and then he would be HOOKED. He would sink his teeth in and refuse to let go. Opening up to someone who isn’t one of his darlings would be strange and difficult for him

Remember how I said he isn’t used to fighting sober opponents? I think that once he gets a taste for fair fights, he becomes a little addicted to the thrill of it and the power that those victories bring him, and he loses interested in drugged fights. After a lifetime of living under this uncle’s thumb, the control he has over someone’s life and PROVING that he’s better and stronger and meaner than them is the most validating feeling he knows.

He never shows mercy, because no one has ever showed it to him.

[mitch-the-silly]

Hi hi hi hi hi big fan of your writing :3 do ya think you can do a vox x female reader when their out in public and some ones hits on reader??? *Disclaimer* I luv u (platonically)

Omg I love this idea and I love you too (platonically as well)!! Vox is my bbg and any idea to get me writing for him is literal heaven-

Anyway, he's a bit of a Yandere, I just know it!!! So here!

Vox x fem!reader

Oneshot!

"Aggro of a Bleeding Heart"

It was rare when you and Vox decided to roam Petagram City. The amount of low-class sinners that also roamed the place made it unsafe not just because of the extreme classicism the Vees believed in, but because crime was as high as you’d expect a city in Hell to be. Of course, today was an exception because you two were on your way to an exclusive club and you just refused to drive to a place so nearby.

So when you arrived at this club, he chose a table for the both of you and got up to greet some fellow overlords. You simply sat there, fancy purse in hand as you patiently waited for your Vox. You were always well-dressed and put together. It was one of the many benefits of being an Overlord’s girlfriend. A particular piece of your outfit that you always flaunted was a huge “V” shaped broach he’d given you. His hat logo atop of the letter. Some people commented on it seeming like him taking ownership of you (which might be true deep down within Vox’s heart) but truth be told, to you, it was a symbol of how close he was to your heart.

Now, needless to say, looking that pretty attracted men to you. All of which you rejected immediately. But rejection didn’t stop men at times. As was the case with the sinner who was flirting with you right now.

“Come on babe~ He probably doesn’t even pay attention to you~ And he definitely doesn’t please you.” The sinner smirked, pointing at your broach.

You made a face of slight disgust at him, “You don’t know anything about me, ok?” You huffed, undignified.

“Oh, I but I bet he doesn’t treat you right. Come on…~ Ditch that flat screen bastard. C’mon, you know you wanna…~” He insisted. You shook your head, suddenly noticing a figure behind him. Good, this would be over soon.

"I already told you, I'm not interested." You scoffed.

Behind him stood Vox, electricity cracking behind him and fangs out like a bloodthirsty animal. He was beyond protective of you and upon seeing another man speaking to you while you tried to move away from him, he knew he had to jump in.

“Í̷̬s̶̨͂ ̶̟͆ḧ̴̖e̸͆͜ ̷̯̊b̷̗̄o̶̡̐ẗ̴̮́ẖ̸͗ȩ̴͝r̶̢̃ǐ̵͍n̵̡͗g̶̗̈ ̸͍͠y̴͜͝ỏ̴͖ű̷̩,̸̞̒ ̶̦͋b̸̼̿ǎ̶̢ḅ̴͆y̷͖͝?̶̭̇ ” He asked, unable to keep his voice normal. The glitching being a sign of his agitation. He wanted to murder the man in front of him, strangle him with his bare hands, but he couldn’t. He would not dare cause that big of a scene.

“I already told him that I wasn't interested in him.” You sighed, simply annoyed by the stranger’s persistence.

That stranger turned quickly, and once he saw Vox behind him, attempted to scurry away from the situation. However, Vox swiftly appeared in front of him, grabbing the man by the collar.

“Y̵o̷u̴'̷r̶e̴ ̵p̷r̶e̶t̶t̸y̴ ̶f̶u̷c̶k̸i̶n̵g̵ ̶b̵o̷l̴d̸,̸ ̶a̸r̴e̴n̴'̶t̵ ̶y̷o̷u̸?̴ ̷T̴a̸l̴k̵i̶n̶g̵ ̸t̸o̵ ̸m̴y̵ ̴g̵i̸r̵l̴ ̷t̸h̵a̷t̶ ̶w̷a̴y̶.̷.̶.̸ ” Vox hissed, still crackling in pure rage. “I̶ ̷h̴e̸a̷r̴d̸ ̶a̷l̷l̵ ̴t̷h̴e̸ ̷s̵h̷i̸t̶ ̷y̴o̶u̸ ̷w̶e̴r̴e̴ ̴t̴e̵l̴l̴i̴n̶g̷ ̶h̷e̷r̸.̷ ̴Y̸o̵u̴ ̸t̶h̷i̴n̶k̵ ̸I̷ ̶c̵a̵n̸'̶t̴ ̶p̸l̶e̸a̸s̴e̶ ̷m̸y̸ ̸o̷w̴n̸ ̸w̶o̷m̴a̵n̷?̵ ” Vox added. His voice shaking as much as his hands. He looked like a rabid dog and it was… kind of hot to you.

“N-no, s-sir!” The man stuttered.

“It’s not what I heard you say, you u̸g̸l̸y̷ ̶f̵u̷c̷k̴i̵n̴g̵ ̷s̵l̷u̴g̴… I’ll give you two minutes to leave the vicinity before I b̴l̷o̸w̷ ̶y̵o̴u̶r̴ ̸f̸u̴c̶k̸i̶n̵g̶ ̴b̵r̶a̷i̴n̴s̸ ̴o̵u̸t̷ ̶w̵i̵t̵h̸ ̶a̷ ̸C̶r̶a̵m̵i̴n̶e̶.̴.̴.̸ ” He threatened. Oh, and he was very much capable of this. Shooting a sinner with an authentic Carmine weapon was something he’d proved he wasn’t above doing when it came to your safety or his jealousy, for that matter. And unlike regular gunshots, there was no coming back from a fatal shot from a Carmine weapon. If you were killed by it, you were fucked. Gone into oblivion.

“Y-yes sir!” The sinner stuttered. Vox let go of his collar and the puny man that had flirted with you a few minutes ago was now stumbling over himself trying to leave the club.

Vox shuddered, calming down and sitting next to you. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders and pulled you closer towards him. “Fuck… I hate the fucking scum we live amongst. I’m not leaving you alone on a night out ever again, I’m… sorry about that bastard.”

“It ok Voxxie, it was kinda hot… what you did, you know?” You chuckled slightly.

“Yeah? You like it when I get all jealous over you?” He smirked, letting out a breathy chuckle.

“Yeah, I like it when you get all glitchy and crackly. It’s kinda cute...” You giggled.

“I should do it more often, then~.” He chuckled, planting a peck on your lips.

You kissed his screen and chuckled, "You should, it suits you a lot~" You cooed, placing a hand on his chest.

Vox let out another chuckle, "Well, good to know. Now I know how to win you over when you're being a brat."

"Hush, you! We're in public!" You protested, embarrassed that he'd say that out loud, but finding it kind of funny.

"Who said I meant it that way. Get your mind out of the gutter, baby~" He teased, holding your waist.

"I fucking hate you." You joked.

"Oh, you love me~" He retorted with a cocky laugh.

[cobaltperun]

Woe out the Storm (8) - What have you done

Wednesday Addams x female Reader

Summary: It took some time, but eventually you came to realize only Wednesday Addams could look at the raging storm of chaos and destruction and make a home out of it. Only she could listen to the cacophony of the roaring thunder and hear a melody.

Story warnings: Wednesday Addams, violence, slow burn

Story Masterlist / First part / Previous part / Next part

Word count: 4.9k

-There's a curse between us, between me and you-

Wednesday could admit her interests weren't ordinary, she could admit that neither she nor her family conformed to the norms of the society. She believed in different values; she ranked those values in a way most people wouldn’t. Not choosing violence was, for example, ranked very lowly. And she wasn’t opposed to murder and torture either.

Truthfully, it wasn’t the fact that her father was accused of murder that bothered her, it was the fact that she heard about it from a stranger. He was supposed to be an open book, honest with her, with their family and her mother was supposed to be the same. Despite that, they hid the truth from her.

When she set those piranhas loose, fully intending to kill Pugsley’s bully as an act of revenge, she openly told her parents about it. She expected the same openness from them. The society rejected them, deemed them too morbid and weird to be seen as normal; being an Addams meant only relying on select few, mostly family. So, she valued being honest and trusting those select few above nearly anything else.

And they, for their own reasons, betrayed that trust and put her in a position to learn about it in the worst way possible.

To make matters even worse, her father refused to be open with her yet again. He still wouldn’t tell her the truth about what happened, even now that he was behind bars.

Somehow, perhaps against her better judgment, she ended up in front of your shed. It was the first time she came here, the first time she’d step inside. She heard laughter from within and froze just as she was about to reach out for the doorknob. Of course. It was the Parents’ weekend, and you were with your mother. Enid mentioned in passing that you had a good relationship with your mother, that the two of you were close and that you missed her.

You maintained a close relationship with your mother, something Wednesday wasn’t capable of doing, even if she did deeply care about her family and despite knowing they loved her just as much. So, instead of interrupting you and asking you to help her find more clues that could help her prove her father’s innocence, she turned around and left. She’d have to go to her mother after all.

As she walked away, she began to wonder why she wanted you to help her, and truthfully, she didn’t quite understand it. She was perfectly capable of handling this on her own. Maybe it was because you just accepted her, never demanding from her to change, yet still being unapologetically you even when it meant you pushed Wednesday out of her comfort zone, like when you wiped that paint off her hands and face last week.

Or maybe it was as simple as you being honest with her, not once hiding the truth and in turn being frustrated by her own lack of honesty when she didn’t tell you she asked Xavier to go to the dance with her. While Wednesday couldn’t say you ranked honesty as high as she did, she could say you valued it.

If she was completely honest, even with just herself, she might have had it in her to admit the vision she had during Rave’N and what happened with Eugene had a lot to do with that as well. Somehow, deep down, Wednesday convinced herself that if she was there, close to you, maybe that vision wouldn’t come true, and she wouldn’t have to visit you at the hospital or attend your funeral.

~X~

You didn’t always understand how lucky you were. Oftentimes as a child you wondered why you couldn’t have a regular family, with two parents present in your life. Dad was with you a few days a year, around your birthday, and always secretly. Your mom did everything she could, even back then you guessed she did more for you than most single mothers could, but you had some resentment toward your dad.

‘Why couldn’t he be normal, or any other kind of outcast? Why did he have to be a raiju?!’ that’s what you wondered for years, despising the restrictions being a raiju brought to your life. Fear and hatred caused you to separate the beast from yourself, you were a raiju, but the beast was, in your mind, the entirely different being, a creature that had nothing to do with you. The beast was dangerous, uncontrollable, and you despised it for what it could do to your loved ones or innocent bystanders.

The truth was that you should have begun going to Nevermore much earlier, the moment you showed the first signs of lightning, actually. But you cried and screamed at the mere thought of leaving your mother’s side, and she refused to even consider sending you to Nevermore, or anywhere else, unless you wanted to go. You were eight and she was the only real family you had.

‘Do not underestimate my child,’ she’d say whenever someone told her it was too dangerous to keep you outside of Nevermore, that you’d lose control and hurt or kill someone. Neither side was right though.

It was more of a miracle, than anything else, that dad was home when there was a huge storm when you were twelve, otherwise you really could have hurt someone. That was when your resentment toward your dad began fading away, when he calmed you down, when he taught you how to better control your lightning, when he made sure you didn’t hurt anyone, especially your mom. That was also when you finally agreed to go to Nevermore, because you could no longer risk it.

In the four years that followed your relationship with your dad improved, he dropped by more often, whenever you truly needed him. When you shifted for the first time, or when you really wanted to talk to him, he wouldn’t arrive immediately, but he’d come and see you. So, when you saw Enid’s parents you just decided that you were lucky, that you had a loving mom that accepted you for who and what you were, and that your dad, while not always there, was by your side when you needed him.

And he would come now as well.

So, that was your family, and you wouldn’t trade them for anything in the world.

With those thoughts filling your head you stepped into your room with a bounce to your steps. That energy dropped to a more usual intensity when you saw Enid, lying with her arms spread on her bed. “You’re not a disappointment,” you immediately said as you went over to her side of the room and sat down next to her.

“Tell that to my mother,” she sighed and looked to the side. This wasn’t Enid’s usual mood, even when she was upset, she made sure everyone knew that. Her energy was more similar to Wednesday, if Wednesday ever sulked. And it really made you wish you could help her, actually help her and not just stand by her and offer support when she needed it.

“I will if you let me,” and you were completely serious, if only Enid allowed it, you would gladly have a long chat with Esther Sinclair.

Enid smiled a bit and reached out to you. “Thanks, Y/N.”

You smiled back, taking her hand and squeezing it, offering Enid at least some small comfort.

“How come you aren’t with Wednesday?” she asked out of blue, and you had to resist an urge to facepalm at that. Your eye still twitched, and she probably noticed. “I’m not teasing, she was just looking for you, she even asked me where your shed is!”

That was odd. “Why? Isn’t she with her family?”

Enid sat up, now realizing you really didn’t see Wednesday since this morning. “Her dad got arrested for murder and I think she plans to prove he is innocent,” Enid caught you up to speed with what happened.

You couldn’t help but get a bad feeling in your bones. “Murder + family matters + Wednesday? Yeah, she’s going to do something illegal and morally even more questionable, isn’t she?” you sighed, looking at the goth girl’s part of the room.

Enid laughed uncomfortably. “I mean…” she trialed off, she really didn’t need to finish her sentence, you could figure it out yourself.

“She’s going to dig the victim up, isn’t she?” you were just about ready to run headfirst into a wall and pretend you didn’t know she was probably going to get into trouble.

“Maybe sit this one out?” Enid offered, and if you were at least a bit logical and driven by reason you would have listened to her.

You weren’t. You were driven by emotions and much like lightning those were difficult to control sometimes. Especially the ones connected to Wednesday Addams. “If I get locked up for this, don’t break me out. I’ll deserve every second of my punishment for being at the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“On the brighter side,” Enid’s smirk was already terrifying enough. “You could break you and Wednesday out and go into hiding,” she laughed as your eyes widened and you looked at her incredulously. “She might actually love that!”

“I hate you,” you grumbled as you stood up and took a few deep breaths, you’d prefer to avoid living the rest of your life on the run. Dad being on the run from someone was already one family member living like that too many. You didn’t even know who he was hiding from. You just knew it was serious enough for you to be given your mom’s last name instead of his.

~X~

Wednesday was, indeed, digging up a grave, in fact, she was nearly done when you ran up to her and her mother. “Please tell me you are nearly done,” you whisper-yelled at her. “Hello, Mrs. Addams, it’s good to see you again,” you politely greeted her mother, who nodded with a smile, and then you immediately turned back to Wednesday. “There’s no way this can end well, you know?” it wasn’t even about what she was doing, Wednesday was going to be Wednesday and there was nothing you could do about that, you just wished she would have done it when it was even less risky. Like, way past midnight, with you there to watch out for the police, not like this, just before midnight and without you to stand watch.

“We’ll need to show it as evidence anyway, and they’ll figure out it was us no matter what we do,” Wednesday pointed out and you opened your mouth to respond, but you really couldn’t argue with that logic.

Well, at least she already opened the coffin before you showed up. “Right,” you frowned and stepped down, inspecting the coffin. “If you want me to, I think I can magnetize it and pull it out. Maybe. I never tried to do it with anything this heavy,” and just as you reached down bright light shined on all three of you. “Either the ground swallows me right now, or dad will ground me for the rest of my life,” you just raised your hands in surrender as police arrived.

“There’s a hole right here,” Wednesday suggested.

“I’m not sharing unless it’s with you, Addams,” you deadpanned, missing the way Wednesday’s eyes widened, and the way her breath hitched, and the way her cheeks darkened just a bit.

“Oh my, how awfully unhinged,” Morticia commented, and you’ve been around Wednesday and Thing long enough to figure out that wasn’t meant to mean what it usually meant. So, you just gave a thumbs up as you got out of the grave, earning a graceful, elegant smile from the older woman.

~X~

Well, at least you weren’t all alone, that was a positive, right? Nope! Because Wednesday’s parents couldn’t keep their hands off each other, and there were bars between them! Suddenly, you understood exactly why Wednesday would be averse to shows of affection and the idea of a relationship. They were unapologetically in love, and very passionate about showing that love, and you could admire that, to an extent, but still!

“Not even the long arm of law could keep us apart!” Gomez went right back to kissing Morticia.

“At least we’ll have one last night together!” maybe breaking out wasn’t the worst idea, because you doubted you could listen to them all night.

And Wednesday was right there!

“I’ve seen jackals with more self-control than you two,” Wednesday somehow managed to get them to stop, though they didn’t properly separate. “Neither one of you is strong enough to serve hard time. And thanks to me you won’t have to,” she said.

“I’ll pretend I’m not included in that. The strong enough part,” you grinned a bit.

“You especially aren’t strong enough to serve hard time,” she shut you down without even a hint of hesitation.

Well, you guessed that was fair.

“I knew our little jailbird will have an escape plan,” Gomez exclaimed as she showed a finger to the three of you wrapped in a black handkerchief.

“It’s a souvenir from our outing, I borrowed it from Garrett, he died from nightshade poisoning,” she explained as her mom took the finger.

“How come the police didn’t find it?” and then you remembered this was Wednesday you were talking about, she probably glared, and they locked her up without even searching her. ”Yeah, don’t answer that one.

The very corner of her lip twitched up as she glanced at you, as if pleased by your realization. “The remarkable preservation of soft tissue and blue tint confirms it.”

“Which means Garrett was dying-” her mom realized.

“-before you stabbed him,” Wednesday finished.

Her parents looked at one another. “You look even more ravishing as an innocent woman,” and they were back to kissing.

“I’m not entirely sure that’s how this situation works, but sure,” you looked away. You guessed poison being there proved self-defense though, and that might just be enough to drop charges. Although, knowing Wednesday she had something else up her sleeve as well.

“For once could you two get off of each other and focus?” Wednesday asked and reached out for the finger. The moment she touched it a vision struck her, and you were immediately behind her, holding her up.

You looked at her parents and saw they recognized what happened to Wednesday, which was a relief. Though, there was some surprise on their faces. She probably never mentioned her visions to either of them.

“Wednesday,” her mom leaned in a bit as Wednesday woke up from her vision. “Did you have a vision? What happened? What did you see?”

You stepped to the side, no longer worried that she might fall. Sometimes she fell, sometimes she didn’t, you really couldn’t be too cautious.

“The night Garrett died he had a vial of nightshade poison that broke in his pocket. He wasn’t just trying to kill father, he was going to use the nightshade poison to murder the entire school,” she explained.

~X~

“The sweet taste of freedom! How I missed you!” you exclaimed when you were finally set free. At the same time as Gomez, actually, maybe the sheriff was being petty over you electrocuting his son last year, in which case you could get behind that. “I don’t think we met, I’m Y/N,” you raised your hand to greet Wednesday’s brother.

He nodded, smiling a bit. “I’m Pugsley, thanks for going to jail with Wednesday,” he said sheepishly, though he took cover behind a rather tall man when Wednesday glared at him.

You grinned a bit at that and contemplated just leaving so the family could have a moment on their own.

“Don’t even think about leaving, we’ll go back to Nevermore together,” Wednesday said before you could even consider that idea properly.

“You’re the boss, Wednesday,” you grinned cheekily, much to her annoyance.

You still stood aside, giving them enough space and privacy. You still smiled when Wednesday accepted a family hug.

And then your blood ran cold.

You felt the hair on the back of your neck stand up as the chill ran down your spine. You could recognize the electricity in the air, and you knew it was too late. "I'm going to be grounded for the rest of my teenage life," you swallowed the lump that formed in your throat and if this was an anime or a cartoon you were sure you'd have cartoonish tears falling down your cheeks.

He appeared in a burst of lightning, as in control as ever, with that bright orange lightning surrounding him and moving to his will. "Gomez! Why is my daughter in prison, Gomez?!" your dad was pissed, he was beyond angry as he stomped over to Gomez and pointed a finger at his chest. "How did you being accused of murder get her in jail?! Oh, hello Morticia, you look amazing as always," how he flipped between nearly yelling at Gomez to politely complimenting Morticia in a split second you would never understand. You could never.

"You look good as well, Elijah, it's nice to see you after all these years," Morticia greeted him with grace that shouldn't have been a part of her ordinary behavior, yet here you were.

You slowly took a few steps back, hoping to flee while he was distracted by Wednesday's parents.

Wait…

He knew Wednesday’s parents?

"Y/N is your daughter?" Gomez and Morticia seemed to be genuinely surprised. You couldn't blame them, with the different last name and everything.

"My pride and joy, yes," your dad said, momentarily forgetting about the issue at hand and grinning proudly.

It made you stop as you took in the pride in his gaze. You didn’t think five words could have such an effect on you. Despite his absence, when he was there he was a great father, and to hear that he was proud of you made you smile.

“So, about my daughter being in jail,” apparently, he wasn’t going to drop it, so you slowly began backing away again. “Now where do you think you are going, Y/N?” well, so much for escaping silently.

“I just remembered something! See you later, Wednesday!” you were just about to turn into lightning when bright orange lightning circled you.

“Don’t even think about that, kid,” you could hear the smirk in his voice.

“Now that’s just unfair,” your eyes changed back from red to your usual eye color and you slumped to the ground, defeated. Of course he’d use his stronger lightning to prevent you from using your own lightning.

“Elijah, Y/N was there for our Wednesday, don’t be too strict with her,” Morticia came to your defense, and you felt like you’d eternally be grateful to the woman if it worked.

“Your Wednesday?” your dad repeated and blinked a few times, his eyes changing into their natural color, the same eye color you had. He glanced down, right at Wednesday who seemed to be genuinely interested in him. “Ah, Anna did mention a new roommate,” he was piecing together whatever information he had. “The fuck is this Gomez? Another Addams-raiju roommate situation?”

Your jaw dropped at that and you looked at Wednesday only to see well-concealed but definitely there shock on her face too. The two of you looked at each other and then at your fathers. “What the?!” you couldn’t help but yell.

Gomez laughed at that. “It looks like that’s exactly the case,” he agreed as the lightning around you disappeared and you approached the group.

“Wait, the roommate you told me about was Wednesday’s dad?” you asked, still unable to fully process the new information.

Your dad nodded. “Yeah, something like that,” he turned to Wednesday. “Uh, there was a storm, and I lost control for a bit while Gomez and Fester were there, luckily I didn’t hurt them, but, I could have,” he looked away, ashamed of losing control like that.

Wednesday took that information in and looked at you as if she just figured something out. You didn’t like that look on her face.

“Elijah left Nevermore after that, and we haven’t seen or heard from him since. I never made the connection between Y/N and him,” Morticia said, mostly to Wednesday.

“Anna and I figured it was safer for Y/N to take Anna’s last name,” your dad explained. “Not that it helped you to stay out of jail, you little troublemaker,” he pulled you in, ruffling your hair.

You pulled away, annoyed that he kept that habit. “No comment,” you rolled your eyes.

“Just be happy I convinced Weems not to call Anna,” your dad said and took a few steps back. “Come on, now, say goodbyes and follow me, Y/N,” his eyes turned orange once again. “Gomez, Morticia, it was good seeing you and your family. Wednesday, thank you,” and he burst into lightning and went in the direction of the woods.

“Does he not realize that I can’t do that?” you just watched the spot where he was standing moments ago.

“Why did he thank me?” Wednesday asked you.

You lightly rubbed the side of your neck. “Uh, don’t worry about it. Dad can be a bit random at times,” you sighed and pulled out your lucky knife. “I’ll see you later!” and off you went, one burst of lightning at a time.

~X~

You were out of breath and on your hands and knees when you caught up with your dad and he didn’t look even a bit tired. Guess you still had a long way to go. No shit, your lightning was still red, Still, his was orange, and that was just one level stronger than your own. Just how strong would a raiju with yellow let alone blue lightning be? You moved so you could sit down and hung your head low, still trying to catch your breath.

“You did good, that was faster than I expected,” he still praised you, smiling proudly as he sat with his back against a tree.

You shook your head. “It’s not nearly as fast as it should be,” you rejected the compliment.

He sighed, standing up and approaching you. He sat down on the ground a few feet from you. “I don’t care about how things should be, Y/N, I just want you to be happy and healthy,” he said softly.

“I know,” you smiled, having heard those words plenty of times. It was still hard to believe in them. Not because he ever did anything to make you doubt those words, but because it simply felt too good to be true. Just look at Enid’s parents, you couldn’t imagine them, especially Esther, saying something like that to Enid. Although, Wednesday’s parents seemed content with Wednesday just being happy in her own way as well.

“This,” he gathered some lightning between his palms and raised his hands toward you. “it’s not a curse, Y/N, and neither are our beast forms.”

The smile fell off your face as you raised your head to glare at him. “Don’t give me that. Not after you left this place because you were also afraid of these powers, of hurting people!” you yelled, red sparks dancing around you almost out of control.

And then his eyes turned yellow, and you jumped to your feet and put at least some distance between the two of you. Yellow lightning raged around him and he roared, loud and powerful, and animalistic, and moments later a huge golden bear stood in his place. He was much bigger than even a grizzly bear, as it was usually the case with raiju. There was barely any lightning coming from his body and you could only stare in awe. The less lightning there was, the more in control the person was, and your dad only had lightning coming from his eyes and front paws. He growled, though there was no threat in it, as if telling you to shift as well.

“I can’t, I can’t control it,” you refused, closing your eyes and turning away from him.

“This is your best chance. While I’m here everything will be fine even if you lose control,” he shifted back. “You’re at your limit. You’ve been restraining it for over two years, and the more you restrain it, the more painful it gets. It might be the next time there’s a storm, or on the fifth, or even tenth storm from today, but you will shift no matter how much you discharge,” he sighed, firmly grasping your shoulder. “Fear isn’t bad, Y/N, but don’t be afraid of yourself. If you aren’t ready to shift now, it’s fine, but give me a call when you feel like you’re ready,” it was the reassurance you needed. His words, his control over his beast form, it eased your worries, even if only a little bit. It gave you hope that maybe you could eventually control your own beast form.

“Okay, I’ll call you when I’m ready,” you promised and hugged him.

He hugged you back, sighing. “I don’t want to scare you, but you need to know one thing. With how inexperienced you are, no matter what happens, do not shift twice in a row. Even if you stay in control the first time, you won’t be able to control it the second time,” his words were definitive, there was no doubt there, for him, or for you.

“I know,” you whispered. “I know.”

“We’re not separate from that form, it’s as much a part of us as the lightning,” and lightning couldn’t do anything but destroy, it was too powerful to contain, direct and use for anything but battle. That was what lightning was, and that was what made it so frightening to take a form of a beast made of lightning.

~X~

The Parents’ weekend was coming to a close, her parents, Pugsley and Lurch were leaving. Your father already left, as did most of the families. You were close to her, seeing as you just said goodbye to your father and he wanted to say goodbye to her parents one more time, and meet Pugsley this time. So, even after your father left, you stayed nearby, waiting for Wednesday so the two of you could go back to your room.

You wouldn’t be waiting for much longer, her mother said her goodbyes, showing Wednesday affection in a way Wednesday was comfortable with, with air kisses and turning to leave.

Wednesday paused, contemplating her choices. Finally, the need to understand, the need to be aware of potential effects it could have on you pushed her to say. "Mother," she called out, getting her mother's attention.

Her mother halted, turning around with just a subtle hint of surprise on her face. "Yes, Darling?"

"Goody told me to use the raiju," she said, she didn't want to admit it, but the choice of words and what she saw, especially after what her mother said about Goody, it just felt wrong.

Her mother sighed, a heavy, foreboding sigh Wednesday rarely heard. "Once in every generation an Addams forms a deep bond with a raiju," her mother revealed, just for a moment looking in your direction. "It can be friendship or love, many believe Goody was in love with her raiju."

Wednesday's eyes widened, and the way her heart began beating just a bit faster made her uncomfortable. "I've never heard of a raiju in our family," she argued, trying to, at the very least, remove love from the equation.

"Because there wasn't any. Despite all the times an Addams fell in love with a raiju. Those bonds always end in a tragedy, but especially when there was love involved, the raiju always died for their Addams. They are powerful, and that power makes them reckless," this time Wednesday was the one who looked at you, and as if you felt her eyes on you, you looked up and grinned at her. It made her feel nauseous for a moment.

"Her father is still alive," she tried to argue once again and for once didn't mind her mother placing a hand on her shoulder.

"Friendships sometimes ended up with raiju no longer capable of living a normal life. Maybe that's why Y/N carries her mother's last name, or maybe they broke the cycle," her mother paused for a moment. "Or perhaps you and Y/N will."

Wednesday clenched her fists. "I don't feel that way about Y/N," she claimed, even if her actions spoke otherwise. "Especially if it's tied to some kind of fate or a curse," she didn't want to feel like she wasn't in control, especially over her own emotions.

"Darling, even if it was fate, would that make those feelings any less genuine? Regardless of the nature of those feelings?" Wednesday remained silent, not quite able to put into words how she felt.

She just looked at you again. Death was never something she feared, she was even excited about it. The idea of you dying for her, however, wasn't thrilling to her. It made her feel dread and not a good kind of dread. She made a mistake, staying close to you wouldn’t prevent that vision from coming true, staying away from you would prevent it. So, Wednesday made a decision, you would no longer be involved with her investigation. When she looked away from you she pretended not to see the smile on her mother's face.

Story Masterlist / First part / Previous part / Next part

[thought--bubble]

Let's Work it Out

Ettore X (Indifferent Crewmate Reader)

Warnings after the cut

Based on THIS request

Word Count: 1979

Ettore Masterlist

Full Masterlist

Banners by @arcielee

Warnings:: Ettore, swearing, Smut, dub-con, dry humping, fingering, unprotected sex (P in V), one brief line is a reference to previous non-con just a proper heads up. It's really quick, but yeah. Just in case.

"I hate this fucking ship." This is the thought that runs through your mind on a constant loop.

When you agreed to take this mission, you had thought it would be a good alternative to prison.But after months of floating around on this metal hellscape, you know you should have just stayed on earth.

Trapped in a tin can with a bunch of arseholes. At least in prison, the population was bigger. You had a better chance of finding people you could stand.

But here? Misery.

Boyse was fucking annoying with her constant bitching "this isn't right", "she can't do this", you know she's right but fuck, you can't change it and neither can she, so at least she could do you all a favor and just shut the fuck up.

Then there's Monte. The high and mighty one who thinks he is too good for the box. He walks around as if he is somehow morally superior to the rest of you, as if he wasn't a murderer too.

"You wouldn't be on this ship if you weren't asshat. Calm down."

Then there is the absolutely insane Dr. Dibs, who is apparently the only other person on this ship that is allowed to touch you and not in a fun way. Doing her freaky experiments knocking all the women up one by one and accidentally killing them off like some fucked up version of Russian roulette.

Then there is Ettore. He doesn't bother you as much as he bothers all the other female inmates, which actually makes him amusing in a way. He's definitely got the creepy staring guy role down, but who could blame him? There isn't much to look at on this stupid ship. Everything looks the same.

There are more irritating, annoying inmates, but you couldn't be arsed to learn their names. Fuck every single person on this ship, as far as you are concerned.

Most days, like today, when you have "free time," you just lay in your bunk. Trying to daydream and imagine you were back on earth before you irreparably fucked your life up.

Nansen is up on her bunk doing the same thing. She doesn't bother you much as she's quiet, and at the moment, Ettore is hanging off her bunk, literally sniffing at her.

"He's so fucking weird" you think as you watch him, trying not to laugh at the fact that this is what passes for amusement around here.

Nansen clearly gets fed up with him sniffing around her like some deranged dog and finally shoves him away.

The frustration on his face finally does you in, and you start laughing, no not laughing, cackling. He responds quickly with a flash of rage before quickly exiting the room.

"Thanks for that, that was actually fun," you yell over to Nansen before you roll onto your side, still chuckling to yourself.

Time moves slowly here and after what felt like hours Nansen left to go do something or other leaving you in the room alone still laying on your side and staring at the wall as if willing it to bring you some sort of escape from this place.

Your eyelids get heavier and heavier as you stare at the wall before they finally slide shut. Only the slight humming of the ship and distant voices can be heard as you feel yourself slipping into unconsciousness.

Until you hear it. The door closing. You open your eyes but don't move. Normally, it wouldn't be weird to hear someone enter the room. It is a shared space, after all. But no one ever closes the door. It's always left open.

You wait a few minutes while you continue to pretend you're asleep. Maybe one of the girls are douching after a visit with Dibs or puking up their sleepy time pills? Best to pretend you are asleep so they don't try to kick you out of the room.

So you wait. For movement, noise, or anything, but you are met with silence.

What feels like eternity passes with your heart thumping in your chest when finally, you turn around to see Ettore sitting on the floor next to your bunk, some of your long loose hair between his fingers.

You instantly jump back.

"Piss off!" You yell while pushing back with your feet towards the wall.

Ettore grips your ankle and drags you across the bunk and onto the floor.

"Arse!" You howl as your back makes contact with the harsh floor. Ettore stares down at you, a predatory look in his eyes.

"Don't you touch me, you prick!" You snarl at him, slowly rising to your feet.

Ettore doesn't say a word. Just slightly tilts his head to the side as his eyes scan you from top to bottom.

This guy isn't a dog, he's a fucking wolf and he is sorely mistaken if he thinks you're a lamb ripe for the slaughter. Yet you can't help but find him oddly enticing, the piercing blue eyes, his fill chest, and the fact that he keeps his mouth shut is a nice bonus.

As he moves toward you, the decision is made, you tackle him, wrapping your arms around his midsection, bringing him to the ground with a loud smack, and straddle his hips.

"Don't fuckin move you prick!" You hold his hands up by his head and are surprised when you see no anger, only unbridled lust.

And then you feel it. He is rock-hard beneath you, and suddenly, the fact that he isn't fighting you off makes sense.

Against your better judgment and any rational sense, you decide to tease him. It's been so long since you have been touched. Why not indulge for a moment?

"You like being under me, don't ya?" You tease as you rock your hips against him.

"Yea, nice place to be" his words are dripping in lust as he pushes his hips against yours grinding his cock against your cunt.

This boy is desperate.

You chuckle to yourself and grind back against him. His eyes roll back slightly as his jaw drops open.

He's so responsive, so much so that it drives heat straight to your core.

"You want me to apologize? For laughing earlier?" You continue to grind against his cock a sensation he loves, if the look on his face is anything to go by.

"Don't care," He grunts as he moves his hips a bit faster against you and closes his eyes.

"What if I said I would apologize by riding that big old cock you have stuffed into those scrubs huh?"

Ettore's eyes flash open, and he stares up at you, licking his lips.

"Would you like that?" You tease as you again roll your hips against him, but you make the mistake of closing your eyes and when you do Ettore wastes no time breaking out from the grips you have on his wrists and flipping you over onto your back.

You grunt at the impact. "Fuck, thought we were getting somewhere?" Your grumble in pain.

"Collectin my apology." He sniffs up the side of your neck before reaching down to pull off your scrub bottoms.

You want to correct him. Maybe explain. What riding him means, but again, you couldn't be arsed.

You push your scrubs down the rest of the way and bring your legs up around his hips.

It's been far too fucking long since you've been fucked and he's weird yeah but he's also hot and is most likely gonna fuck you silly.

Ettore leans forward to capture your mouth, but you turn your head to the side.

No fucking kissing dipshit.

Luckily, he is quick on the uptake and goes for your neck, seemingly unbothered by the subtle rejection.

He brings his hand to your heat, sliding his digits into your leaking wetness.

"Mmmmm" He groans eyes closed as he hovers above you, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing small precise circles on the nerve.

You close your eyes and lean your head back, your climax getting closer as he continues his ministrations while gently biting at your neck.

You feel your body tense as you climb that hill, wanton moans slipping from your lips as Ettore slides a finger into your canal, his fingertips exploring, looking for the magic spot that makes a girl go wild.

You take a deep breath in and rock your hips against his hand, your labored breaths, and sounds of pleasure gradually growing in volume, and he knows he's found it.

Ettore gets to work rubbing at the spot deep inside you as he pulls back to watch your face contort in pleasure.

It's so primal. Emotions aren't necessary. Just basic physical need and gratification, one of the driving forces behind Ettore's every move.

He quickly removes his finger from you and grips your thighs tightly, pulling you up to him, and plunges himself inside you in one swift thrust.

The only thing he feels.

He audibly groans at the sensation, jaw hanging slack as his pace quickly increases.

He has tunnel vision. He wants that sensation and needs that sensation, and there is not a thing in heaven, on earth, or this damn ship that is going to stop him now.

In just moments, his pace is punishing the hard smack of his hips against your skin and the delicious mixture of pleasure and pain have you reeling.

"Fuck!" You bite your lower lip nearly breaking the skin as he bullies your insides, hitting all the right spots with each violent thrust.

He watches himself entering you memorized be each movement. He is practically drooling seeing your fluids building up on the base of his cock. Dampening the short blonde curls that grow there.

He can't help but think to himself how much better it is when they want it.

He brings his thumb to your clit working the nub in small circles wanting that clench he knows you can give him.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!" Your eyes fly back open as you hit your peak temporarily going deaf, body numb to all feeling other than the overwhelming pleasure.

Ettore smiles, not a happy smile, more of a victory smile. It's time to chase his peak, to take what he wants needs.

As you begin to float back down from your high, Ettore is climbing his. Every thought in him consists of reaching that goal. That euphoria.

His grunting grows louder, and his legs begin to shake as he pushes his body to its limit, determined to have the most intense experience he can create.

"If you ever want to do this again, you'll pull out." You don't know if he will heed your warning. He doesn't care about you. Why should he? You do hope that his needs in the future will outweigh his wants right now, but only time will tell.

He says nothing, his eyes closed as he groans loudly, you feel him stiffen, and just as you think he is going to ignore your warning, he pulls out shooting his spend onto your quivering thighs.

You both stay put a moment before you reach into your laundry and snatch up a shirt that's meant for washing, wiping yourself down.

Ettore watches you intently before finally opening his mouth. You see him debate with himself whether or not he should say whatever it is he is planning on saying.

You watch the gears move in his head moderately, amused as you start to put your bottoms back on.

"Good grief, just say it." You can't help but lose your patience. He is back to being the weird, staring guy, and it's irritating.

"Again?" He finally mutters.

You chuckle as you realize he is confirming that this is going to happen again.

"Sure" you shrug "Need something to do on this fucking ship"

To be added to taglist click here

[aphroditelovesu]

⸻ The Lost Queen - VI ⸻

— summary: You woke up near a military camp without remembering how and why you got there, you didn’t understand why they were dressed like ancient Greeks, all you knew was that you weren’t safe and you needed to get out of that place as soon as possible. Too bad for you that you found yourself attracting unwanted attention from the Macedonian King and he won’t let you go so easily.

— genre: yandere, dark!au.

— warnings: time travel, obsessive and possessive behavior, murder, mention of torture, kidnapping, angst, fluffy (very rarely), dub-con, eventual smut, pregnancy.

— pairing: yandere!alexander the great x female!reader, yandere!generals x female!reader.

— word count: 1,320.

— tag list: @devils-blackrose, @faerykingdom, @hadesnewpersephone, @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 , @kadu-5607, @zoleea-exultant, @borntoexplore11-blog, @silmawensgarden, @elvinapandra, @jennifer0305 , @his0kaswife, @animetye-23.

— the lost queen series masterlist.

Chapter 6

You could feel the exact moment the air changed. The exact moment when everything had changed.

When history had been changed by your presence in this time.

It was like one of those period films you used to watch on lonely Saturday nights. It looked just like a movie you remember watching a while ago about Alexander, except no one in the movie had been stabbed.

As far as you knew, at least.

But it wasn't supposed to happen like that. Cleitus was not supposed to die until just before Alexander's wedding to Roxanna. Yes, there was the drunken fight between the two men, but it was for a different reason and at a different time.

It shouldn't happen now. And definitely not because of you.

Your presence was already affecting the course of things and you blamed yourself for it, even if it was illogical. Maybe it was that butterfly effect you had already heard about. It's not like you transported yourself over two millennia into the past of your own free will.

You didn't even know how you ended up in this place and with these people, but you knew it had something to do with the book you had so foolishly decided to buy. How or why you didn't know. Yet.

You would figure out how to leave this place, this time, one way or another.

Ptolemy was trying to remain calm. He was really trying, but he didn't know if he could do it much longer.

Because, for the first time in years, he had felt afraid of Alexander.

And that was something to consider. He had known Alexander since the days he was a boy, and although he was not as close to Alexander as Hephaestion, he still considered himself a close friend of the King.

Ptolemy respected Alexander not only as King, but as a friend.

And now he didn't know what to do. He didn't know what to think.

Alexander announcement was a big surprise. Why had Alexander felt the need to announce his intention to marry (Y/N) in this way.

Or why he wanted to marry her in the first place.

Ptolemy had no idea what to think about her. He had nothing against her but he couldn't say he was satisfied. But that was because he didn't know her. Yes, she looked pleasing to the eye, but there was something about her that made him disturbed and anxious.

Something about her scared him.

''Call a doctor!'' Hephaestion's strangely calm voice removed him from his disturbing thoughts.

Ptolemy waved and ran out of the tent, happy to do so. He didn't want to think about Cleitus or Alexander, or even (Y/N).

The soldiers were all awake and alert, alarmed by the screams in the King's tent, but none of them seemed willing to bother some of the generals for more information.

It's not like it was necessary because Ptolemy knew that in a matter of hours everything would spread.

How their King himself attacked one of his loyal generals in a drunken rage. He tried not to think about the consequences this would bring to everyone in the future.

After a few minutes, Ptolemy woke the King's doctor and took him to where Cleitus was. Still at the banquet tent, but it had emptied. Alexander and Hephaestion were not present, Cassander had withdrawn along with Nearchus. The only ones there were, obviously, Cleitus, Perdiccas and (Y/N).

He tried not to think too much about the last one who was looking at Cleitus with an expression he couldn't decipher.

''By the gods.'' Philip, the doctor, said some prayer and knelt beside Cleitus. ''What happened to him? I don't remember us being in battle.''

''And we're not.'' Ptolemy replied, unsure whether or not he should tell the truth, but Philip would eventually find out, ''Alexander stabbed him.''

Philip frowned but decided not to make anything more important. Ptolemy was grateful for it.

''C-Can you save him?'' The three men present turned their heads to (Y/N) after she finally spoke up after everything that had happened.

''I can try, but...''

''But?'' Perdiccas tried to encourage the doctor, but Ptolemy didn't miss the look his friend had given to (Y/N). A concerned and loving look.

He tried not to think about it either.

''It's a cut on the abdomen and very deep, I don't know...'' He didn't finish the sentence but it wasn't necessary. Everyone already knew; the chances of Cleitus surviving were low.

''I can help.'' (Y/N)'s firm and determined voice surprised everyone.

''You can help?'' Philip asked, confused and suspicious.

(Y/N) nodded, ''Yes, I have... Uh, I know a little about medicine, maybe I can help.''

Her words surprised everyone.

''I don't know if-'' Philip was cut off.

''I know what I am doing. Trust me...'' Ptolemy was surprised to see (Y/N)'s beautiful eyes filled with tears and that sight gave him an uncomfortable tightness in his chest, ''Please...''

Please. It had been so long since Ptolemy had heard those words and he had forgotten how much power they had.

''Let her help.'' Ptolemy ordered the doctor who, feeling sullen by the looks of both generals present, reluctantly accepted (Y/N)'s help.

Alexander was sitting on the floor, with his back against a cot.

The powerful undefeated King now found himself defeated. Defeated by his own guilt and his inner demons.

He could feel nothing but the purest remorse.

He didn't understand why he had done that.

Why had he stabbed his general? His friend? He couldn't understand what had gotten into him.

That was what had occurred to him in the moment of his drunken rage.

The only thing Alexander remembered was the anger he had felt. From the hatred that had consumed him like fire when he was disapproved of by his friend. And he regretted that.

Oh, for Zeus, and how he regretted that. He would regret this for the rest of his life.

Would Cleitus live? Only the gods could say. Alexander had never felt so helpless in his life as he did now.

So useless.

He didn't know what to do or how he had gotten to Hephaestion's tent. He had vague memories of his friend and Craterus carrying him to Hephaestion's tent to rest. How he could rest was beyond him.

The gods had a cruel sense of humor, the King scoffed. It was supposed to be a special, fun occasion. He would announce his intentions to marry (Y/N) and everyone would celebrate the fact that he was finally getting married. They would drink and eat, as they always did, but that was not what happened.

It was Cleitus's fault, he told himself. If he hadn't dared to disapprove, show contempt for Alexander's choice in public this wouldn't have happened.

But at the end of it all, there was no one to blame but himself.

Alexander might as well have drowned in his own lament or in his wine. He didn't care, he just needed to get rid of these terrible thoughts that were eating him from the inside out.

''More wine.'' He ordered a page who had entered the tent he was occupying at that moment. The boy looked at him with remorse and this only increased Alexander's anger.

He clicked his tongue.

''Now!''

The page didn't need to be told three times, he ran out of Hephaestion's tent, leaving the King alone again. Alexander didn't know where the others were, probably with Cleitus.

Alexander buried his head in his chest and this time, he didn't fight the tears that fell.

When the page brought the jug of wine, he poured it into his cup and sent him away. Alexander didn't want to be alone, but he didn't want to be seen in such a broken state.

Alexander drank the wine and closed his eyes, hot with tears. Was he really a monster?

''Alexander...'' Hephaestion's ever calm voice filled the silent tent.

Alexander smiled but refused to open his eyes.

Hephaestion knelt down beside his friend and hugged him. No words needed to be said between them.

Alexander was grateful for this and hugged his friend back.

— lady l: I hope you enjoyed! Just showing a little of what happened after Cleitus' stabbing, because in the next chapter, well, we're going to have some drama, friends! If there are any mistakes, forgive me and let me know what you think! I love you all and see you in chapter 7. ❤️❤️

[yanderes-galore]

A romantic concept of Darth Maul (Star Wars) if you will?

Sure! I think he's a neat (and tragic) character within the universe he's in. Although at the same time... his motivations are rather simple.

Yandere! Darth Maul Concept

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Possessive behavior, Violence, Murder, Kidnapping, Isolation, Biting, Marking, Forced relationship.

Maul, like Vader, is another apprentice manipulated by the Sith.

Except his manipulation came first.

From a young age he was fed the seeds of being a Sith due to his fighting prowess.

Nowadays all he really knows is hate.

There's just... so much to hate.

Especially after Kenobi sent him into exile.

Maul, despite having his mind put back together, probably never recovered from his thirteen years of isolation on a trash planet.

Maul is described as obsessive already in canon.

He's this way towards power, revenge, hatred, and rage.

He embodies so many negative emotions due to the Sith who manipulated him.

Using his training, Maul survived death through hate and became ruthless and manipulative.

He's not afraid to use fear to make others obey him.

Although... He is not devoid of care.

Maul is shown to care for his mother and brother(s).

So if he found interest in someone to be his partner, that care is shown even if he's mostly intimidating.

Although, his behavior isn't going to change much just because he cares about you.

Maul is the type of person to murder innocents to lure Jedi out to kill.

Naturally Maul will also want to isolate his obsession.

He feels you're all he needs and you're one of his obsessions.

I can see Maul breaking a Jedi in to corrupt them if he likes them romantically.

It would drive him insane at first as he's supposed to kill Jedi.

But the idea of breaking this specific one in, of corrupting them, making them his...

He'll let that slide.

Other alternatives include you not being Jedi or Sith, probably still Force Sensitive but you haven't chosen a path.

That or you're an adult Sith he found a way to manipulate into listening to him. (Like an apprentice or something after your own master was slain....)

Regardless, as expected of a Sith like him, people will die.

Maul has been shown he's capable of kidnapping if it aids him, and obviously murder is instinct.

That alone makes him terrifying.

But when he takes over Mandalore?

Even worse.

Maul does anything for power... and with that power he plans to make you obey him too.

Maul seems like he'd break you down just to build you back up.

He enjoys obedience, be that willingly or through fear.

The love of a Sith is twisted, especially with Maul.

While Vader has loved once and would seem more "caring" to the one he adores.

Maul has always known being a killing machine.

His love for you would be more rough, maybe primal in a way.

He's possessive, I can see Maul nibbling on his obsession's neck or shoulder to vent that.

Maul doesn't plan to attack you or hurt you physically (much).

It's those around you who are in the most trouble.

Normally, in Maul's culture, the female chooses the male.

However, it's obvious he's playing the rules differently here (especially if you aren't even female or a different race)

You can't choose any other partner if they're dead, right?

Even then I imagine Maul still tries courting you, it's just you... don't have much of a choice but to accept him?

You can barely even speak to others without hearing that signature noise of a saber being activated.

You and his family are what he cares for other than revenge and power.

Although, in Maul's life, he loses his family eventually.

When left with nothing else, Maul becomes even more suffocating.

He hides you away, and as much as he'd rather not, restrains you.

You're the only person he has now, the only one he needs.

To him, you should feel the same way.

He's your partner, your mate, you'll need him as much as he needs you if he isolates you

Maul is a yandere who would force you to need him.

He'll force you to be addicted to him, to give into desire and have him as yours.

Why fight him when he can give you all you want?

He can read you, he can give everything...

Just give in to him...

You're his to corrupt, his to have, his love... and ultimately, his to own.

[tipsynight0]

Puppet master //part TWO

Laughing Jack x mother reader

Word count - 2.3k

Author's note - please look at the tags, I tried to make this less gory but like this is creepypastaaa so I’m sorryyy.

TRIGGER WARNING - Graphic violence, gore and blood, body horror, murder, torture, domestic abuse, Infidelity, strangulation, drugging, suffocation, dismemberment, death by asphyxiation, dehumanization, object insertion.

Synopsis- part TWO jacks family, Jack kills (y/n) husband and mistress.

Jack's plan was working out seamlessly.

Tomorrow evening, the only people in the house would be (y/n)’s husband and, judging from his behavior, his mistress too. (Y/n) had decided to spend a few nights at her mother’s, exhausted by the endless arguments that had turned increasingly hostile. Just the night before, her husband had shoved her into the beloved rocking chair where she gently cradled their son Lucas every night. It wasn’t just his infidelity—it was the endless stream of pictures his coworker kept sending him, her smiling face mocking (y/n) from his phone.

That was the night Jack nearly leapt from his box. Rage coursed through him as he watched her husband’s hands shove her down, the urge to wrap the black tie around the man’s neck so overwhelming that his hands twitched. Jack could have ended it right there—snapped the husband’s spine like a twig and silenced his pathetic existence. But Jack knew better. Patience. Timing. Tonight wasn't the night, but it would come soon. And when it did, (y/n) would never suffer again.

The next morning, Jack observed with steely anticipation as (y/n) packed Lucas’s bag. Her hands trembled as she folded her son’s tiny pajamas, tucking them into the suitcase as though each movement might break her. Jack’s insides roiled, every fiber of his being burning with the need to protect her. From his hiding place in the box, he watched her every move, his breath shallow with anticipation.

She paused, turning toward the dresser. Her eyes met the box—met him—and for a moment, Jack could swear she saw through the wood, through the darkness, straight into his soul. Her delicate fingers hovered over the lid, her touch so gentle it made his heart ache with longing. Don’t turn the key, Jack silently pleaded, swallowing hard. If you do, I don’t think I could stop.

But she didn’t. Her fingers slipped away as the door opened. Her husband entered, cradling Lucas in his arms with a smile so empty it made Jack’s stomach churn. “Have fun at Grandma’s, buddy,” he cooed, handing the child to (y/n) as though he hadn’t spent the previous night making her life hell. Then, without so much as a glance in her direction, he grabbed his phone and left the room.

(Y/n) lingered for a moment, her gaze once again settling on the box. That final look was all Jack needed to know. Tonight was the night.

As evening fell, her husband set the stage—a candlelit dinner, soft music playing in the background, the sickly sweet smell of red wine filling the air. He had to make everything perfect for his mistress’s arrival. The room was immaculate, a perfect lie. But Jack had already added his own touch—a small dose of something special slipped into the wine. Something that would ensure the night unfolded exactly as he had planned.

By 9 PM, Jack's excitement was barely containable. Her husband had just hung up after a brief call with Lucas, promising to talk more later. The doorbell rang right on cue. Jack smiled from inside his box, his mind buzzing with anticipation. Oh, this is going to be fun.

An hour later, soft rustling and stifled giggles drifted down the hallway. Jack emerged silently from his box, his eyes gleaming with wicked delight as he quietly stepped down the hall. He paused at the bedroom door, peeking inside. There they were, naked and tangled together on her bed. The sheets—her sheets—twisted around them as they moved, oblivious to the nightmare creeping toward them.

The scene was almost too perfect. Slowly, he slipped into the room, the shadows swallowing his massive, seven-foot frame. His painted grin widened, the edges of his lips cracking with glee as he approached the bed. The air smelled thick with sweat and sin. A low, satisfied growl rumbled in Jack’s throat.

The mistress noticed him first. Her eyes snapped open, widening in sheer terror as she let out a weak scream. Jack moved swiftly, his hand lashing out to snatch her throat, silencing her cries with a bone-crushing grip. From the folds of his tattered costume, he pulled out a long, coiled string of black and white handkerchiefs, wrapping them tightly around her mouth and throat. The fabric dug into her flesh, muffling her whimpers as her face turned a sickening shade of blue.

Michael—(y/n)’s husband—stirred groggily, his senses dulled by the drugged wine. He turned just in time to see the towering clown standing over him, and panic flooded his eyes. He scrambled backward, naked and vulnerable, desperately trying to escape the bed. But Jack was faster. With a grin that stretched too wide, he yanked Michael’s ankles, dragging him down the bed.

“Well, well, well,” Jack purred, his voice like nails on glass. “Nice to finally meet you, Michael. I’ve been dying to play.”

Michael’s body trembled as Jack pulled a spray flower from his chest and blasted him in the face with a thick mist. Within seconds, Michael’s eyes rolled back, his body slumping as he lost consciousness.

Dragging their limp bodies into the living room, Jack whistled a cheery tune, his grin never faltering. He hummed to himself as he worked, securing their limbs with thick fishing wire, tying it tight enough to cut into their skin. The wire sliced deep, blood seeping from the wounds, painting red rivers down their pale, exposed flesh. Like grotesque marionettes, putting on a show.

Slowly, they began to stir, groggy and confused, their bodies twitching as they regained consciousness.

Jack grinned wider, his eyes glinting with malicious delight. Their mouths, stuffed with candy, muffled their cries as they tried to scream. He yanked on the wires, the tension causing the fishing line to bite deeper into their skin. Blood oozed from the cuts, dripping onto the floor in thick, dark drops. Their bodies convulsed with each movement, the pain sending waves of terror through their veins.

“Good, you’re awake!” Jack chirped, stepping into view, his oversized shoes squeaking against the hardwood floor. Their eyes locked onto him, wide with fear, pleading silently for mercy. But Jack wasn’t here for mercy.

“We’re going to play out a little story,” Jack said, his voice dripping with twisted glee as he clapped his hands together. He pulled on the mistress’s string, causing her to jerk forward violently, blood spurting from beneath her arms as the wire bit deeper. She whimpered, her mouth overflowing with candy, the colorful sweets spilling from her lips in a grotesque parody of innocence.

“Once upon a time,” Jack began, his voice mockingly cheerful, “a beautiful young woman visited an antique shop. She found a delightful little jack-in-the-box, a lovely gift for her precious son, Lucas. A thoughtful mother, indeed.” His eyes glazed over, the memory of (y/n) buying him flashing before his mind.

But then his gaze darkened. His focus shifted to Michael, his lips curling back in disgust. “But you, Michael,” Jack sneered, pulling his strings tighter, the fishing wire carving deep, red lines into Michael’s flesh, “I wasn’t brought here to just watch you ruin everything. No, I was brought here to fix this family. To remove the real problem.”

Jack’s face twisted into something more monstrous as he leaned close to Michael’s ear, his breath cold against the man’s skin. “Spill any of my candy, and I’ll rip your lungs out and make her eat them.”

Michael’s eyes rolled back in terror, his body convulsing uncontrollably, urine soaking the floor beneath him. Jack laughed—a high-pitched, deranged sound that echoed through the room like the screech of nails on glass. “Pathetic,” Jack spat, pulling harder on the strings.

Tiring of the mistress’s pitiful whimpering, Jack reached into his pocket and pulled out a bouquet of fake flowers. Grinning maniacally, he shoved the flowers down her throat, forcing her mouth open wider, candy spilling everywhere as her face turned blue. She gurgled one last time before her body fell limp, her skin taking on a deathly pallor.

Michael choked back a scream, the candy clogging his throat as Jack stalked toward him. “Oh, Michael,” Jack crooned, “you’re as stupid as they come. (Y/n) is mine now. Lucas is mine. This is my family.”

Jack pulled out a long balloon, inflating it slowly as Michael’s eyes widened with confusion. Twisting it with practiced ease, Jack formed a crude hammer and held it up for Michael to see. A flicker of hope crossed Michael’s eyes—a balloon hammer? That couldn’t hurt him, could it?

Jack’s grin stretched wider, his eyes darkening with malevolence. “Don’t look so relieved,” he sneered, bringing the balloon hammer down with a sickening crack on Michael’s leg. The bone snapped instantly, protruding through the skin as blood spurted across the floor. Michael’s scream, muffled by the candy, was animalistic, raw.

With a vicious snarl, Jack swung again, the balloon hammer smashing into Michael’s other leg. Another sickening crack echoed through the room, the bone shattering under the blow. Michael’s entire body seized in pain, his scream rising in pitch, but the candy stuffed in his mouth choked him, turning his cries into desperate, garbled gasps.

Jack tilted his head, studying the man’s broken body with a mixture of boredom and curiosity, like a child disappointed with a toy that didn’t break the way he expected. “Oh, Michael,” Jack mused, stepping closer. “You’re falling apart far too quickly. I was hoping for a little more fun.” He twirled the balloon hammer lazily, a wicked gleam in his eye.

Michael’s head lolled, his body slumping forward like a ragdoll, blood pooling beneath him in thick, viscous streams. But Jack wasn’t done. His fun was just beginning.

With a wild cackle, Jack swung the hammer again, this time aiming for Michael’s stomach. The balloon seemed to grow heavier with each hit, as though feeding off Jack’s malice. The sound of flesh and bone tearing apart reverberated through the room as the hammer came down again and again, pounding Michael’s body into a bruised, mangled pulp. Blood and gore splattered across the walls, mixing with the colorful candy that continued to spill from Michael’s mouth in grotesque bursts.

Michael’s chest heaved, his eyes rolling back into his head as he hovered on the edge of consciousness, his body twitching violently with each strike. His skin was torn, his insides a twisted mess of shattered bones and blood. He was nothing more than a human piñata now, strung up and broken for Jack’s amusement.

Jack stepped back, admiring his handiwork. Michael hung there, barely alive, his body twitching in spasms of agony. The fishing wire had cut so deeply into his skin that it seemed to blend with his flesh, as though he had become part of the grotesque puppet show Jack had orchestrated.

“Look at you,” Jack sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. “You thought you could have it all, didn’t you? The wife, the mistress, the lies. But all of that ends now.” He leaned in close to Michael’s face, his breath icy against the man’s sweat-slicked skin. “This is my family now.”

Satisfied, Jack wiped the blood off his hands onto his costume, leaving streaks of crimson on the tattered fabric. He turned to leave, his mind already buzzing with thoughts of how he would take (y/n) and Lucas and make them his own. But just as he reached the door, a noise stopped him dead in his tracks.

The front door creaked open.

Jack spun around, his eyes wide with alarm as he saw (y/n) standing in the doorway, frozen in horror. Her eyes scanned the scene before her—her husband’s mutilated body hanging limply from the ceiling, the mistress dead and blue-faced on the floor, the walls streaked with blood and candy, and in the middle of it all, Jack, his costume smeared with gore, a balloon hammer still clutched in his hand.

(Y/n)’s mouth opened in a silent scream, her face pale with shock as her mind struggled to process the horror before her. Her eyes locked with Jack’s, and for a moment, time seemed to freeze. Jack tilted his head, his painted grin twitching, a flash of hesitation flickering across his eyes. This wasn’t how he had planned for her to see him. Not like this.

“Well,” Jack said slowly, his voice tight as he spread his arms wide in a twisted mockery of a greeting. “This is… quite the scene, isn’t it?”

(Y/n)’s chest heaved as her breath quickened, her mind racing as she took a step backward, instinct telling her to run. But Jack was faster. In a heartbeat, he lunged toward her, closing the distance between them in an instant. His long, blood-streaked claws wrapped around her wrist, pulling her into the room with a sickening force. The door slammed shut behind her with a deafening bang, sealing her fate.

She let out a choked sob, her body trembling as she stared up at Jack, her wide, tear-filled eyes reflecting nothing but terror. Jack’s grin stretched even wider, his face contorting into something monstrous, a grotesque parody of the joy that should have been there.

“Oh, (y/n),” Jack cooed, his voice soft, almost gentle as he ran a hand down the side of her face. His touch left streaks of Michael’s blood on her cheek. “You were never meant to see this. I didn’t want you to be afraid of me.”

(Y/n) gasped, pulling away, but Jack held her firmly in place, his grip tightening like a vice. “Don’t cry, sweetheart,” he whispered, his voice taking on a cruel edge. “This was all for you. Everything I did was to make us a family.”