#that I lived longer than I ever thought I would. so now it's gone Full Autism Mode abt it djsksmdnfn

[whosthere54]

Ok ok ok Royal au Royal au ararararah

now to yap about my Royal au cause I’m normal. (Longer post- I just infodump about my AU basically-)

So what I have in drafts is all mainly brothers or prison duo centric, as if you know my fics I usually write from Icarus’s perspective on things. The main ships I would be focusing on are ghaae, nightingstar, Wolftross, and then prison duo- but I have cameos of all of the cannon ships of course. I’m gonna kind of just go through and explain roles of my main guys tho- so hope you like this as a sort of starting summary? I guess?

Icarus is the crown prince of the gilded kingdom. Basically the other full representative of the overworld who’s not Fable. Basically, they are heir to the throne, have to maintain a public image, help Fable out with royal duties and pretty much prepare to be the next monarch to ensure a smooth transition if “mortal king Fable” passes away. (He can’t die- I’ll get to that maybe- but yknow. God.)

I’ll talk about Isla and things later in this post, so I won’t mention it now- but yeah. Icarus is the only heir to the gilded kingdom.

Centross is Icarus’s bodyguard (yes I’m going down that road for the prison duo content. I’m so unpredictable /silly/sarc/lh) Royal guard? Close enough probably. Which- idk if I have to get into what he does. I think you can assume. Protection stuff. He was a former assassin, having used to work with Enderian. I’m doing a cliche maybe- but- yknow- he was sent to kill Icarus, ended up unable to do so… so now he’s a bodyguard for them instead of going back to Enderian. (There’s probably a promise of mutual protection somewhere- I’m sure Icarus would not have let Fable give them a bodyguard before then, and when he did they’d make it everyone’s problem- instead wanting to prove they could protect themself. There’s something there. Yeah.)

Wolftross is yes a thing, I think they were probably together for a while- maybe not long after he first became a royal guard. At Icarus’s request, he can visit Fenris whenever he wants probably. Easton replaces him when he’s gone (even after he became blind- at Icarus’s request he will continue that role. They trust him- and he’s capable.)

In the one thing I wrote, I gave him end features as well. I’m moreso debating on that- but I think it’d be a cool thing as a byproduct of being one of Enderian’s closest advisors and trusted assasin. Or- I give them to him later when he gets to be god. He gets them at some point- for me.

Rae is the crown prince of the end kingdom- full representative of the end that is not Enderian. I’d think she gives him more freedom than Icarus gets from fable, her being the end mother she is. She did have the same I guess cruel past that she does in cannon- I’m trying to figure out how I’m translating s1 into this AU still, and maybe you’ll get a oneshot of that eventually. Atleast the prison arc- of course. He left the gilded kingdom (either with Isla, or later on his own I have drafts for. But- probably with Isla) and lived with Isla for a bit- she runs for help from soul and things like in cannon and she helps hide them for a bit. Though- Isla ends up having Rae stay with Enderian. She probably stays as long as she can without compermising Rae’s safety, but maybe gets caught by Fable eventually.

Fenris is Rae’s bodyguard. He is a former general for the Nether’s army, just like in cannon. (I have to rewatch some of his lore before confidently talking about how he gets to become Rae’s bodyguard, so I’m sorry I won’t have too much info at the moment <3)

He becomes Rae’s bodyguard later- Enderian probably heard of his reputation as “the wolf” and hired him. (May try to include the wolf arc- but am again, trying to figure out how to integrate it.)

Now- basic plot summary? Something of the sort? Yeah. Some random details too cause I have no one train of thought ever and am just writing whatever I think of down. /lh

So for some backstory- Islas story is basically the same as in lore. But it changes for that bit after Rae was born just to adhere to the different circumstances Royal AU brings to the table. So, Rae grows a bit before Isla takes him and runs in this AU- he’s older, couldn’t tell you how old (age is a lie/silly/j) but just. A child. She notices how he’s being treated by Fable, takes him and leaves. She doesn’t take Icarus. There’s a lot of consideration for that fact- of course there is. Their her child. But- they’re not close, Fable makes sure of that. They spend most of their time with him, and their his heir after all. Their disappearance would be the worst to explain. So she doesn’t take them with her.

She takes Rae, and over the course of a few years- stays in a sort of safe house like in cannon, learns the things she does there, goes to soul for help, all that stuff. But she ends up taking Rae to Enderian, he becomes crown prince. She stays with them until it compromises Rae’s safety. Fable finds her, she doesn’t give away that she’d stayed with Enderian and that stays secret for a long time. Fable finds her, messes with her memories and things (he’s messed with Icarus’s too at this point- probably erasing Rae entirely) end she goes into a coma. He locks her away, Icarus doesn’t even know she’s here- and ends up having no memories of her anyways. Only fable knows where she’s locked away. Some tower in the castle sleeping beauty style probably.

Rae grows up in the end kingdom, Icarus grows up in the overworld.

Rae meets Caspian in the end prison- advocating for his freedom and things. He gets him a place in the end kingdom, and they get together at a peaceful festival in the overworld. That is an annual festival- Rae meets aax and takes her there too. He and Cas talk- and probably end up asking Aax out there too- making a whole day out of it probably. It’s a tradition for them, after all.

Aax lives with Cas, and Rae stays with them on weekends? Mayhaps? Something like that. He’s allowed to visit them whenever.

I like to think maybe Cas helps Athena and Bruin run the bakery on occasion. Bed and breakfast. Idk. Rae is definelty still the taste tester on Aax safe foods. And also a waiter on opening day for multiple reasons- one, it’s funny- two, yknow. Royal press. Media(?) purposes. Yknow what I mean hopefully.

Also- end kingdom I think had parts in the overworld and end? Like- overworld has the stronghold portal as the center and then made a kingdom around that, and then there’s an end part of the kingdom. This was probably a result of a peace treaty Isla had led years before between the realms after the war. Because badass mother deserves it. But to explain that- yeah. I think the Nether doesn’t- but has a trading hub spreading through portals and things. Yknow. Just not kingdom- I think the overworld is still more cold to people from the nether so. No kingdom. But portals can be made anywhere instead of having just one like the end, so that makes sense.

Gilded kingdom is just the biggest kingdom in the overworld areas we know- as Fable is the god of creation. I just have cool ideas for kingdom designs. May build them in Minecraft actually who knows- (if I do I will in fact post the pictures)

The Aether kingdom was a thing for souls and stuff as it was in cannon, but fell the same way. Alerion and Will live peacefully in one of the overworld kingdoms living normal lives away from everything, as they deserve.

A lot of the fable characters probably lives in the overworld, and just travel between realms.

Athena’s house probably has an area like his lab, where half is in the overworld and half is in the nether. If not, maybe their bed and breakfast- or atleast she has some nether bakery locations maybe with nether specific treats! Cause I think they deserve it and I just think it’d be cool.

Will has a cartographers shop in his village- like a cartographer villager type thing.

Rae has his archives he runs in his kingdom, there are two- one in the overworld part and one in the nether.

Starbarks definelty exists, does Fenris cannonly in this AU run all of the businesses he runs in actual cannon? Probably not. Do they exist? Probably.

Ven works as a close advisor for Fable, and Ari is hired as a knight or general of a sort for fable. Maybe more like a spy. Cat scratch records exist probably.

The world sisters do exist, most likely- (logistically if this was like a alternate “fable raises Icarus AU” they probably wouldn’t but I can do what I want and I say they’re here cause I love them- /silly)

Addie- Addie idk- maybe they work on like a night shift for the archives? Or like as an intern.

Ulysses- idk where to put Ulysses. Oh you silly fish man you. I will incorporate all the telchin stuff, definetly, I think just think of the cannon lore for that one.

Also- Quixis is there somewhere. Probably not in the same way for plot- but gotta include them in every au somehow /silly

Yeah. Royal AU. I’m eepy so I shut up- but hope you like my rambling ig idk-

I didn’t realize y’all enjoyed this au that much- I appreciate all the excitement about it /gen tehe <3

[hoonatic]

emergency contact | park sunghoon x reader

prompt: weeks after your breakup, sunghoon finds out that he’s still your emergency contact. pairing: non-idol sunghoon x implied female reader genre: angst with hopeful/happy? ending; second chance romance??; exes to lovers??? word count: 2800 note: i’ve had a cute fic idea that i wanted to write forever…but this is not it. the sad demons have visited me once again. hope y’all enjoy nevertheless and any feedback is much appreciated <3

sunghoon was miserable. 

it had been three weeks, five days, two hours, and thirty-two minutes since the two of you had gone no contact.

he wished he could say he was happy to be single, that he was no longer “locked down” and “whipped” as his friends had always called him. but the so-called “freedom” felt like hell since it meant losing you.

at first, he kept telling himself that time would heal the pain. “it’s natural,” he had repeated like a mantra, “she was your best friend and lover for years.” but no, this heartbreak was inhumane. his desire to see you, apologize endlessly, and spend days holding you until you could feel every ounce of his love was gnawing at his soul. if anything, it got worse by the minute.

he had tried so hard to balance work and the rest of his life, using the excuse several times that he was securing this future for your shared life with him. that one day, you’d be able to reap the rewards of his efforts and live comfortably together without stress.

but what was the use of all of that now? the future he had worked so hard to create was ripped out from his hands by no one other than himself. 

you had accused him of being too busy for you. dates canceled at the last minute, a birthday forgotten, and all the texts left on read had built up to the argument that ended it all. he was always good at fighting, a little too good. he had retorted that you weren’t being supportive, and he was never one to sugarcoat his words. his tongue was sharp, and he did nothing to dull its blade.

but there wasn’t too much yelling on your part, and he thought that that hurt more. he wanted you to fight back, to stand your ground because he knew deep down that he was being the asshole. his toxic thought was that by you fighting back, this meant that you were still fighting for your relationship. but instead, you just stared with silent tears and a blank expression. seeing the indifference in eyes that had previously held so much love was a sight that would stay with him forever. so, in fear of you leaving, he ran instead.

he was a coward, leaving your shared home to run back to the apartment he had still technically owned but hadn’t lived in for more than a year. he locked himself away for a few days, but the realization that you hadn’t attempted to contact him burned more than he could put into words. you were done with him. he had hurt you, had the audacity to be the one to run, and now he had lost you.

he had even run from his job. he couldn’t stand to walk into the same building he stayed in when he forgot dates with you. his coworkers wouldn’t stop asking what happened to him, why he looked so rough. he even found an empty container that had once held lunch you made for him. but his final straw was getting promoted. his first instinct was to call you, but he remembered the sad truth before he could dial. any ounce of pride was washed away with shame in that moment. that same day, he quit without notice.

so there he was: miserable, alone, and unemployed with nothing left to run from but memories. he had spent the last week going through his phone and saving your pictures together in a locked album. he wouldn’t dare delete them, but he couldn’t stomach looking at you either.

he wished he could get drunk and sleep away the pain. he had tried, he definitely did - but that night, he dreamt of you. you were smiling at first, eyes ever full of love. you were speaking, yet he couldn’t hear you. but he could see how your words started to gradually look sadder, and slowly, tears started to fall as your grin dropped. he woke up that next morning crying with the conclusion that he would have to face this heartbreak sober.

but another day of scrolling through albums had stopped abruptly when he saw the notification that changed everything.

SOS i called emergency services from this approximate location after my watch detected a hard fall. you are receiving this message because i have you listed as my emergency contact.

sunghoon had to remind himself to breathe.

he had purchased that watch for you as a “just because” present months ago. you had complained of bad sleep and he wanted you to use it as a way to track your slumber. he hated seeing you tired. he knew that the watch had a fall detection function, but it had never been used before.

his heart was in his stomach as he went to his favorite contacts page and selected your name for the first time in weeks.

“please,” he begged, all notion of running away from you leaving his brain, “pick up please.”

but you just weren’t answering. so he tried again and again and again.

for a moment while the line attempted to connect, he wondered if this was how he had made you feel for months - desperate for a sliver of attention from him. but instead, he was desperate for a sign of life.

finally, after about two minutes of trying to reach you, his body moved of its own accord. before he knew it, his car keys were in his hands and he was out the door.

the car ride there might have been the worst part. the speed at which he drove at almost defied the laws of physics. other drivers were cursing at him but he wasn’t registering anything except the thought of your safety. he just needed to get to you.

why did he run? why didn’t he try to talk it out? if he was so afraid of losing you, why did he do the one thing that would guarantee that? he should have been there like he promised to be from the beginning. you would have been safe with him.

when he pulled up to the house you had shared for so long, he suddenly felt the world slow down. why were emergency services there? you should’ve canceled them by now.

he had to double park as the ambulance was blocking the driveway. why were they here?

the emts and police had arrived at the same time as him, which both increased his anxiety and soothed him. for one, that meant he had been quick enough. but why did you need them?

“sir, do you know–” an officer had approached him as he stumbled to the front door. all he could understand was your name. why were they asking if he knew you? of course he knew you. you, the love of his life. you, his soulmate by every meaning of the word. you were you. and you were safe.

as if sensing his distress, he felt an emt worker pull him to the side as the same officer prepared to break down the door. seeing this, sunghoon finally returned to his senses.

“w-wait! sorry, i have a key.” sunghoon’s hands were shaking. the only way that door had unlocked was by pure muscle memory because he didn’t understand what he was doing at all.

as soon as the door opened, sunghoon tried to step in. finally, he was close to you. 

the officer, however, pulled him back.

“sir, you should wait here. we need to make an initial search before you can go in.”

“what, why? if she’s in there, i want to see–”

“sir, it’s just in case we find something we wouldn’t want you to see.”

all of sunghoon’s hesitation and fear went out the window at those words. his body flew automatically as he ran inside.

he screamed your name as he rushed in, ignoring the yells of the police officers who followed him in. as it had been for almost four weeks, his only thought was you. he just needed you.

he checked the ground floor first, eyes scanning the open space in less than a second as his body avoided an officer trying to grab him. sunghoon then moved to the staircase, long legs prepared to skip steps to reach you. then suddenly, he heard the voice his ears had been longing for,

“sunghoon?!”

his head shot up. there you were, finally. he saw the sadness, confusion, and fear all flash your face as you registered the emergency workers behind him. you looked exhausted and unruly, but he had never felt more in love.

he didn’t even remember climbing the steps, but suddenly he was at the top of the staircase and you were in his arms. 

you could feel him trembling as he held you. you took his face into your hands to look at him, “sunghoon? what’s wrong? why are you here? is it my parents? is someone hurt?” you watched as his mouth opened but no words came out. after a few seconds, one of the officers spoke from the bottom of the steps,

“ma’am, we received an alert from your device that a hard fall had occurred.”

suddenly, you understood everything. taking sunghoon’s hand gently, you led him down the stairs, afraid he’d fall from shock. he followed you silently, but his grip tightened seemingly with every step.

that’s when you noticed your shattered watch on the third step.

you let sunghoon go and you could hear his deep breath when you did. you picked up the watch and offered it up to the officer as an explanation, “i’m sorry officer, it looks like there’s been a misunderstanding…”

the officer nodded in understanding, and dismissed the emts, “got it, ma’am. we will still need a formal report for our records since this was registered as an emergency call.” he motioned to your couch as he took out a pen and paper.

you reached for sunghoon’s hand once more and led him to sit with you. in the moment, you knew he needed you more than you would ever understand. so, as you explained to the officer, you held his trembling hand, rubbing soothing circles with your thumb.

“i was doing laundry here downstairs and had taken off my watch to prevent it from getting wet,” you recounted, “i put it on top of the basket of clothes that i took upstairs. i remember tripping a little going up the stairs - i didn’t fall, but that must’ve been when the watch fell."

"what about your phone, where is it? i'm sure your boyfriend must've tried to call you."

sunghoon slowly nodded at that, turning to look at you. you smiled sheepishly, "i left it upstairs and it was on silent while i folded the clothes. i’m so sorry for the inconvenience.”

after finishing up your statement, the remaining officer prepared to leave. as he walked out the door, he gave a soft smile to the both of you,

“glad to see it was a false alarm, ma’am. you had this gentleman quite worried - ran so fast i couldn’t even grab him!” the officer laughed, “you two have a nice day now! sorry about your watch, though!”

after he shut your door, the silence enveloped your home. you closed your eyes and breathed deeply to prepare to speak to your ex-boyfriend. but as soon as you opened them, sunghoon started to cry softly.

he hugged you tighter than he ever had, and soon enough, his face was buried in your neck. his cries were silent, but you could feel his body shaking as his tears soaked your shirt.

“sunghoon…” you started, stroking his back, “i’m sorry i worried you, honey.”

you knew you shouldn’t be calling your ex pet names, especially an ex that had run from you without properly ending the relationship. but your heart still held so much love for him that it flowed out naturally. and you knew he was crying from more than just worry, so you doubt he minded at all in the moment.

his crying slowed down as his arms took to loosely wrapping around your waist instead. he pulled away from your neck to rest his forehead on yours. from this angle, you could see his swollen eyes and red nose - a sight so rare in all the years you had dated. he was never a crier after all.

but memories of several late-night conversations rushed your mind. he always said his number one fear was your death, and now you could see he had never lied about that.

he could see your mind go elsewhere so he called your name softly, “don’t say you’re sorry. i’m so happy, these are relieved tears. and i just really, really missed you.” he croaked out. you knew he had more to say, so you just nodded, letting him go on.

“and i’m sorry, baby. for everything. i shouldn’t have run, i shouldn’t have tried to egg you on to fight me back. i shouldn’t have even fought anything you said that night. you were right. i didn’t prioritize you. in my attempt to secure you for life, i let you go instead. i’m so sorry, i never wanted to break up.” he was rambling in earnest now, afraid that no words would make you take him back.

you listened quietly as he went on for a few minutes after that, hand continuing to rub his back, “i know honey, i know.”

“baby, you need to understand that i almost died thinking you almost died today,” you could’ve laughed at how dramatically he spoke, “i couldn’t breathe right thinking that our last conversation could’ve been an argument. that you wouldn't have ever known just how deeply i love you and need you. i have so much regret for how i treated you, but if you’d give me the chance, i have all the time in the world to make it up to you…let’s go on that vacation i promised you. we can leave tomorrow if you’d like.” he smiled hopefully at you.

“hoon,” his heart soared at the use of his beloved nickname, “what do you mean? don’t you have work? can you really leave with such short notice?”

“i quit my job.”

“excuse me?”

“no job that made me work that much is worth it. i’ll find one with better work-life balance…after our vacation. if that’s what you still want of course…” he spoke more quietly, as if afraid of rejection.

you sighed. you really should be realistic with this - you two had been broken up for a few weeks at that point. you knew the love was still there, but was this a good decision?

while there was still some hesitation on your part, you couldn't help but notice how gingerly he held you. his arms were still around your waist loosely, yet there was something desperate about their hold. you knew he was holding back from hurting you - you could tell how tightly he wanted to hug you.

he was so shaken up at the idea of you being hurt that he rushed over there despite the two of you not being on speaking terms. for someone who had trouble communicating how he felt sometimes, you knew his actions spoke louder than words. he always acted brave, but there was so much he feared. and you knew losing you was always at the top of this list.

you could also feel how he was simply soaking in the sight of your face. his eyes were shy, yet determined. he wasn't going to risk missing another second of staring at you. a part of you grew conscious, but you knew he was just taking in what he had missed for weeks.

“what about…” you started and almost giggled at how he perked up, “we take it slow - another two weeks or so to talk everything out and relax? to get us to a good place again before you hold me hostage in some foreign country?”

sunghoon smiled softly, kissing your forehead. you leaned in naturally to his warmth, to his touch that you missed so much. “that sounds like a great idea, love.” he spoke, “we’ll get you a new watch too. and i’ll do all the itinerary planning and packing whenever you’re ready, okay? i love you.”

“okay. and i love you too. can’t wait to enjoy your unemployment with you for now!”

one smile and nod from you had him taking you into his arms once more, relishing in your being. he was back where he belonged. he had experienced the scariest reminder ever that he needed you, and sunghoon was never letting you go now.

[mosspapi]

The FOB special interest has been revived in full for the first time in 7 years. Never left obv but godDAMN I have brain rot once again

[readychilledwine]

Could i request something where az and reader are mates. They have a huge fight and “break up” and reader leaves the court. She finds out that she is pregnant and writes him a letter. He never shows up so she thinks he doesn’t want the baby. Rhys visit the court she is in and sees her with a child maybe a couple months old. He is mad because she didn’t told him and when he ask her why she keeps his nephew away she tells him that she wrote az but he never answered. Rhys is mad and ask az what is up with him to just leave his pregnant mate. Unbeknownst to him that az was searching for her the whole time. Az tells him that he never got a letter and they find out that maybe elain burned it. It takes some time for them but they find their way back and just fluff azriel dad who teaches his son how to fly.

( you could write more angst between reader and az because of elain or you could use a maid or something who wants az)

Here Without You

Summary - Being a single mother was more painful than you'd ever thought it would be, especially when your son's father was just a court away.

Warnings - Angst, Elain showing those claws, single mom status, a child, PPD and the thoughts that come with it, **edited to add** cheating

A/N - I had one of my friends who is a single mom help me with this one while also imagining my life without baby daddy, and um, yeah. We cried a lot, so hopefully, you all do too.

*message from Liz regarding the ending at the end*

💙Peep my Azriel Masterlist Here💙

You had decided whatever you had done to offend the Mother must have been truly unforgettable and unforgivable as you sank against the wall of your family chambers in the Day Court Palace.

Being a new mother was the hardest thing you had ever and will ever do. You had finally gotten Nox down after 3 hours of fussing and tears, and now you waited. He'd sleep 2 hours if you were lucky, wake up crying, and you'd start the process over.

You had wished for your mate more times than you could count, but that bridge was long gone and burned. He had ensured of that by not coming when you wrote him, by not even bothering to write you a response.

The last fight between you and Azriel had been ugly. Glasses had been thrown, a bottle of wine knocked over in rage, cruel words you would both have to live with ringing in your ears like a scream. 350 years. Gone. Thrown away like garbage. All for Elain.

Selfish, plotting, destructive Elain.

You stood, body swaying with sleep deprivation setting in before sitting at the table where your now cold food set. You were too tired to eat, choosing to instead drink the water you had been desperately craving 4 hour ago.

You had wished you could turn it to wine, drink it with no consequences, and still feed Nox when he woke, but that was not the reality of the world. So, instead, you allowed the room temperature flavorless beverage to slide down your throat before moving like a ghost to the couch. There was no point in getting comfortable in your own bed. You would have to be up soon anyway. It wasn’t as if you had help.

You were alone.

And that wasn't even the most painful part of it.

The most painful part was setting in doubt. The growing disbelief that you weren't capable of this, that Nox deserved more, that you should have dropped him at the cabin you had no doubt Elain had moved into, leaving him with her and Azriel to allow you to-

You cut your brain off, refusing to put those words into a full thought. Refusing to believe that your disappearance or death was better for your son than this.

This had to be enough, you had to be enough, because Gods if it wasn't and you weren't, then what truly was the point in living any longer.

Helion entered your chambers the next morning, eyes falling to where you were sat on the floor, shoulders shaking as sobs tore through you. He placed a large warm hand on your shoulder before taking Nox from your arms. "I know I can not offer much of a break due to his feeding cycle, but when is the last time you ate a hot meal, y/n?"

You shook your head. He was 2 weeks old. You supposed it had been before labor. Since then, it had been moments begging for just a second of deep sleep. Moments begging for the Mother to help you, to guide you. Moments where those prayers went unanswered as if they were just thrown into a void. "I don't remember."

Helion could have killed Azriel for you, for Lucien, for Nox. He almost had when you had winnowed yourself here, collapsing in his arms from the exhaustion magic and a growing babe had caused your body.

You hadn't known when you came to the Day Court, begging your oldest friend for a week of safety and healing that you were pregnant, but the High Lord had scented it the second you appeared.

It left him wondering how the hell Azriel hadn't.

"Let me hire a wet nurse for you," he offered again, knowing you would turn it down since your depressive state had you hyper fixated in this belief that all you were good for now was your breasts, and if you gave that duty away, what purpose did you have? "At least for the next few hours. To give you time to rest?"

You still shook your head, messy, tangled hair trying to sway. "I can't. I can't burden someone else."

Helion turned his head away from you, willing himself not to cry at the emptiness of your voice, at the lifelessness you had become.

"The Night Court and Spring are coming today," he started slowly. "I am the magic selected neutral ground for Tamlin and Rhysand to begin setting a peace treaty and trade routes." He waited for your reaction, almost breaking further as you gave him none. "Do you want to see any of them?"

"Lucien and Tamlin."

Helion felt his heart shatter for Cassian, the male who had been asking about you for months now. "The general-"

"Is Azriel's brother. And probably has taken his side. Attempts to see me are probably to give him some sick sort of satisfaction."

He dropped the subject immediately. Nox was asleep, content in the High Lord's arms. "I have time before they arrive, go nap." Helion ordered it, eyes blazing a soft gold and forcing you into submission.

Your bed had never felt so soft.

Helion was walking with Nox around the Palace, smiling and cooing the little male. He was always content when he was being held, and you were so deeply asleep you hadn't even noticed Helion holding the boy to your chest as he nursed. He walked towards where Lucien and Tamlin were.

His son, his pride and joy, looked just radiant in his Day Court attire. The soft, off-white pleaded fabric draping him showed the new healthy build he had gained since Azriel and Elain's transgressions, a golden snake wrapped his bicep, new golden earrings adorned those many piercings.

Lucien paused, a look of concern etching his face when he saw Nox before shaking his head rapidly.

But it was too late, Helion was already in the room where Rhysand also stood with the Inner Circle. The Lord of Night's face fell as he looked at the Illyrian boy, looking so happy up at Helion as he dozed off.

Cassian had frozen, mid sentence with Nesta. He had tried to take a step, wanting to see the babe he immediately knew was his nephew. His eyes met Helion's pleading with permission to approach. Elain's face had paled. A mix of guilt and fear running across it before she schooled it into a faked look of hurt and sadness.

But it was Azriel's face the broke the High Lord. It was a look he knew all too well.

The look of a father who missed the birth of his child.

The look of a father who didn't know he had a child.

The look of a father mourning lost time.

Lucien moved to Helion, taking Nox before leaving the room quickly. The boy did as he always did when his head found Lucien's warm bare shoulder. He released a heavy breath, snuggling into that familiar scent and warmth. "Your mother did not call for me last night," they all heard his soft voice trailing off, speaking to their nephew softly.

"You will tell me everything I do not know," Rhysand demanded as if he was in his own court. "When the fuck was he born. Why were we not informed of her pregnancy?"

Tamlin looked to Helion, digging the shit further. "Is she in the same room as last time?" The Lord of Day nodded. "I will go see her while you all deal with this."

Helion didn't answer, walking to the centered round table and taking the head seat. "To begin, Rhysand, this is my court. You will not make demands of me in my home." They all sat, aside from Azriel. His gaze was locked on the hallway Lucien and Tamlin had gone down.

If he ran, he could catch them. He could see you. He could-

The slam of hands on a table ripped him from his thoughts, and his head snapped to Helion. The High Lord was blazing, glowing like the sun itself, heat radiating from him. "Sit. Down."

An hour later and Rhysand had the bridge of his nose pinched between his fingers. "You saw her send each letter?"

Helion rolled his eyes, nodding again. "Every month after every check up and once after the birth."

Rhys pointed to Azriel. "But you never got them?"

"My son wouldn't be in another court if I had," Azriel's voice mirrored yours. Broken, empty, mourning. Mourning what was, what he had missed and would never get back. "You're sure she sent them to me?"

Helion could have snapped his neck. "Who else would have fathered her babe? You are the one who stepped out of the bonds of marriage and mateship. Not her."

Azriel paused, a sudden look of anger gracing his face as he looked up at Elain, shadows curling his ears. Nuala appeared, setting envelopes down in front of Rhysand. "In her room. Under her bed in a locked chest. Along with every communication you had tried to send to y/n, my lord."

Feyre gasped, turning her back to Elain and leaning further into Rhysand, holding Nyx tightly between them. She remembered those first few weeks. The sleepless nights, the pain, the emotional down pour. She would not have survived without Rhysand. Without Nesta and Mor. Without Cassian and you and Azriel. Her sister, the one who had held her as darkness swallowed her mind after her son's birth, had allowed you to endure this alone.

Azriel's hands shook, reaching for that stack. He separated out the letters. 10 for him. 2 for Rhysand and Feyre. 2 for Mor. 2 for Amren. 4 for Cassian and Nesta.

Helion stood. "I will let you all process this. Call for me when you are ready to do negotiations. The sooner you all leave, the better for her."

Rhysand's eyes shot up. "You won't let us explain to her-"

"Does it change the fact that he took Elain to their marriage bed? Does it change that he signed the annulment papers." Silence filled the room. "I believe that's why she left. Correct?" Rhys grit his teeth nodding. "Then all this changes is me, someone she trusts and feels safe with right now, informing her of what happened and allowing her to decide if she wants to reach out again from that point." He made a pointed look at Elain. "Which would not matter since I cannot see you removing the parasite from your court."

Helion walked into your room to Lucien and Nox laying skin to skin, a blanket over them as Tamlin held you, long fingers running through your dark hair. "And?" His son said.

"Your mate hid the letters regarding her pregnancy." Lucien whistled. "She's a snake hiding behind beautiful scales."

Azriel had tracked down your room with his shadows easily. The inner circle had been excused for the negotiations and allowed to explore the city. Cassian had flown Elain home, Mor and Amren winnowing Nesta behind them. Cassian wanted Elain out of his house, and Azriel could not have been more grateful to his brother for having his back.

He entered the room slowly and quietly. You were placing the babe in a crib on the balcony. It was shaded from the sun, shielded to remain the perfect temperature, and yet gave him access to fresh air, to the breeze.

You turned, eyes wide the second you saw Azriel. He moved to you so quickly that you could hardly process it. One second, your feet were on the ground, and the next, arms held you tight against him. Azriel was breathing deeply, memorizing your scent all over again.

He set you down, keeping you close to his chest, and sent a prayer to the Mother. "Elain hid all the letters," he began slowly. "She kept them all in her room. I didn't know. Had I known about you, about him, I would have crawled the very depths of hell to bring you back home to me."

You didn't answer. Tears fell as your body relaxed into him. It wasn't fair. The hold he had on you. The need you still felt in your bones when he touched your skin. You ached for Azriel so deeply it echoed into your bones. You longed for his smell. His voice.

Azriel took your silence as permission to continue. "I made a mistake. I will never be able to make up for it. Elain knew the second you left, I wanted to correct this. I was so blinded by her, by the feeling of being needed like that again, that I forgot how precious your independence was. How beautiful it is."

He couldn't stop himself from kissing the top of your head. "You are all I think about. Morning, noon, and night, it is always and will always be you. I am so sorry for what I have done. I am sorry for hurting you, for ruining us, for hurting the family we should be raising together. There are no words for my remorse."

"Why?" Your voice broke as you asked. "Why wasn't I enough?"

Azriel pulled back to look at you, hand raising to hold your chin and force eye contact. "Y/n, you are not at fault for my actions. You did nothing wrong. There is no partial blame, no what ifs. I fucked up. I made a mistake and it cost both of us everything. You are the victim of my actions, not the catalyst."

He saw you process those words and saw as they sunk in. "You were and are more than I will ever deserve. I want to spend my lifetime making up for it. Becoming a male you are proud of. I want to be the father I never got to have. I want to be the husband and mate you deserve. I know it will take time, and I do not expect your forgiveness today, but if you give me a chance, I will go to my grave worshipping the ground you two walk."

"Do you want to meet our son?" He broke at the question, feeling the bond opening back on your end. "This doesn't mean we're back together. It means we need to coparent for him while we work on things." He nodded rapidly, following you to the bassinet.

It felt like the world was coming full circle. You knew it would take time, that you two had many things to discuss first. This was a needed good start, though. Your pain eased slightly as you pulled back the curtains to the crib and whispered, "Azriel, this is Nox, your son."

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanager @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho

**I have received some pretty nasty anon asks, some unconstructive comments, and a good amount of general negativity regarding this fic. If you are unhappy with the ending and want to know why I made the choices I made as the author, click #discussingherewithoutyou. Unconstructive comments will be receiving the same copy and paste answer from here forward.

My time and content are free. If you do not like them, scroll.

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@mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium

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@elle4404

[sleepyangelkami]

HUSH c.grimes

 𝜗𝜚 WORD COUNT - 4.1K

CARL GRIMES X FEM!READER

 𝜗𝜚 SUMMARY - in the midst of running from a herd, you and carl find yourselves a room just for the two of you, perfect for all the private manners he'd been planning. only problem, the rest of the group were just downstairs.

 𝜗𝜚 WARNINGS - smut, blood + gore (beginning), fingering, p!v, creampie, unprotected sex, porn with plot, praise kink, dom!carl, sub!reader, kinda public sex?, mention of masterbation, petnames, dirty talk, thumb sucking?, overstimulation, kinda corruption kink, tit sucking, mocking, aged up characters, carl mentioned to be bigger than reader, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷

right about now, you were supposed to be tucked away in your bed. well, tucked not so much. you'd imagine that right about now, you'd have your legs spread while whimpering and whining against your boyfriend. in fact, he'd been the one to tell you himself that this was how you'd be spending your evening, he promised.

instead, you were running from infected, surprise, surprise.

it seemed like it was the only thing you were doing lately, running from the infected.

carl had been on a 'mission' for over a week now. when he'd left, you'd gave him big doey eyes along with a pouty lip which he kissed away and stated that as soon as he got home, he'd give you everything you'd be missing out on. when he got home, you were overjoyed.

that was, albeit, until you were both tasked with something else.

nobody in alexandria would give you a break if their lives depended on it.

you'd been waiting so patiently for your boyfriend, had not touched yourself while he was gone due to his explicit rules. you'd been so excited when he'd placed your back against the bed, kissing you roughly.

and rick thought this was the perfect moment to come get you both from the room and inform you that they were down three people for an urgent supply run. you and carl's assistance would be needed asap. as soon as the words came out of his mouth, carl noticed the way your features slumped and he was positive that throughout the entire run, even when the rain had pattered against your heads and you found yourself fighting against infected, that little pout never left.

"we have to leave!" aaron shouted above and beyond, it was hard to make out the muffled voices of everyone while the rain was so heavy and the sound of groans and gurgles could be heard. "we need to get out of here!"

"there's a buildin' over there!" that was daryl, you assumed.

you couldn't exactly make out much. what you could make out, was the way you gripped the knife in your hand, brows knit together in worry and despite the way you thrashed against the dead, carl made sure his back stayed planted against yours, every now and again turning back to make sure you were okay and that you could handle yourself. truth be told, you didn't know how much longer you could fight.

you always mentioned to carl that you weren't a fighter, always having that adored pout when you said it. you weren't 'brave and strong' like he was. you were nothing like him.

carl always had to remind you, that was one of the reason's why he loved you so much.

in a world full of chaos, you were the calm.

perhaps that was why you'd barely killed any walkers, if any. carl was doing everything in his power to keep you shielded while he did the fighting. he had always been somewhat of a protector towards you.

"go!" you didn't know who was yelling now, all you knew was that carl had grabbed you by the hand, hoisting you forward. the group ran, some turning to slash at the dead beings, blood squirting onto their clothes as they fell slump against the ground. "keep running!"

the building that they'd been talking about soon came into view.

it was large and white, with various windows, some broken, some not. you could vaguely make out the linen curtains from behind the glass, covering the contents that lay inside.

daryl pushed the door open, slamming his entire body against it before it swung open. everyone ran inside, gathering in the first hall while daryl and rick put their body weight on the door, slamming the two large doors shut and making sure no dead got inside. glenn grabbed a large piece of wood, shoving it between the two handles and assuring that it wouldn't open.

everyone panted as the two men let go of the door, taking a glance around the building they'd stumbled into. "what is this place?" rick was out of breath, trying to regain it while his hands sat on his knees.

glenn pursed his lips. "I think it's a hotel."

rick, daryl, carol and glenn all searched the perimeter of the building. aaron and gabriel went from room to room, swinging the doors open and making sure they didn't find any dead inside. once assured that they were clear, rosita and tara began assigning the rooms. tara was behind the reception counter, acting out as if she were the receptionist, rosita tried to stifle her laugh.

maggie turned with her eyebrows slightly pinched. "such kids." she'd mumbled to you and carl to which you giggled while carl rolled his eyes with a smile.

soon enough, everyone had regrouped in what you assumed used to be the lounge area. there was a large fireplace that somehow aaron got going. everyone sat around on the couches, swapping war stories and whatnot. rick wasn't too happy about being here in the first place, presumedly because one of the people they were down was michonne due to an awful turnover she'd had last night. she was sick and rick was just dying to make it back to her.

he was the first to excuse himself to bed.

on one of the couches, you and carl lay.

your head was spinning.

you'd tried your upmost hardest to keep yourself contained and you did, because the last thing you needed was someone noticing the way you seemed sort of in a daze. carl had been gone on a run prior, he'd left you for over a week so naturally, he was more touchy than ever.

and don't get me wrong, carl was usually touchy with you. he was the type of guy that always had an arm around your shoulder or waist or merely holding your hand close. but during times like these, when he'd just gotten back from the various runs and trips, he was always especially touchy, more so than ever.

you were clad in his blue flannel over your own pretty pink spaghetti strap. it draped over you, serving as an extra layer of warmth. carl was bigger than you so naturally the flannel came over your hands, practically swallowing you whole.

your mind drifted to going home, back to alexandria. suddenly, your mind drifted to what carl had planned for you both when you got back, what he'd promised.

at the mere thought, you found yourself growing hot.

you let out a breath before shfiting back towards carl, bringing him impossibly closer.

carl was always in tune with your feelings. he knew you like the back of his hand, whether you were sad, angry, happy, it didn't matter. he could tell how you were feeling just by the little glint in your eye. his head turned down to you, smiling softly at your features. you looked up at him with doe like eyes, your own lips formed the smallest of pouts.

you wondered if he knew how you felt now.

and by the way his smile turned into somewhat of a smirk, he must have. he turned back to the group, continuing what he was saying as his hand inched around your upper thigh.

the feeling of his hand sat so close to where you needed him was enough to have your body giving the reaction. you pulled yourself as close to him as humanly possible.

every now and again he'd include you in the conversation, asking you questions to keep you focused. but at the same time he'd ask the question, he'd give your thigh a little squeeze. to anyone watching, he would have looked like a boy simply trying to include his shy girlfriend, as if she couldn't speak up for herself. but carl and you both knew why he was touching you the way he was, why he was giving you that little soft look, enough to have your knees week.

a nod would be your response, eyes sort of hazy as you did so. the others assumed you were tired, you all were. but carl knew what those eyes meant, looking up at him like you were prepared to take him here and now.

the way your hands wrapped feebly against his arm. the way you looked at him with doey eyes. the way you sighed softly and placed your head against him.

he had to excuse you both.

"think we're gonna call it a night." came his voice that you longed to hear so desperately. your eyes glanced back up at him, a little surprise joined into the mix. "right?"

you didn't respond, a 'mhm' sufficing as you nodded your head.

"good idea." maggie responded, gently stretching her arm but she stayed seated on the couch. "you'll need your strength for the morning."

"if you guys need anything just holler." glenn added. you both had a feeling that the others would be staying up quite a bit longer that night.

carl nodded. "thanks, we will." before excusing you both. it wasn't until you were in the hallway that he spoke again. "you know what room we're in, baby?" his voice all soft as his mouth travelled down to your ear, lips gently grazing against your skin.

"room 290, i think." your own voice was soft, sort of hushed as you glanced back up at him, seeing the way he nodded before grazing your eyes back to the doors around you.

turns out, your room was placed on the highest floor. you both walked up the stairs, his hands around your waist, practically pulling you back into him. it was like he'd needed you impossibly closer. and you weren't one to judge. on the contrary, you needed him just as much, perhaps that was why he was holding you so close, he knew.

you opened the door of the room, glancing around to the fully dressed white linen bed while stripping yourself of the flannel that had lay around your shoulders. you placed it on the chair close to the little table that sat in the hotel room. you assumed it used to have one of those coffee makers on it. the table was now empty and the little holder had no sugar packets. you sighed as the cold air hit your now bare arms. it was cold but no longer could you wear the flannel, not while it was covered in mud and was so wet that it practically stuck to your skin.

however, whatever air you took in was suddenly knocked from your lungs at the soft feeling of carl's fingertips against you. you held your breath, his fingers dancing over your shoulder as he pushed the hair back, making room on your neck for his mouth.

his lips came down to dance on the delicate skin, listening to your little intake of breath as he did so.

his hands moved down, tracing themselves back to your waist, where they seemingly always lay. you could feel his lips press kisses against your skin while his fingers began to turn at the waistband of your jeans. your chest rose and fell, gentle as ever. the mere kissing on your neck was almost enough to relieve what you'd been holding in for a week.

"carl?" your voice barely a murmur. he responded with a hum, causing vibrations to shoot throughout your entire body. "what... what are you doing?" voice breathy, almost high pitched.

finally, he moved his mouth away from your neck, turning your body around gently and pushing you backwards until your back hit off the coffee table from behind you. "this is what you wanted, no?" you could feel his fingers fumbling with the little button of your jeans. "why you were giving me the fuck me eyes down there."

you felt your face grow hot. you hadn't been meaning to give him any sort of eyes. however, you'd been so wrapped up in your little... problem, you'd hardly noticed. "i wasn't." you spoke, defending yourself as your brows moved together, pinching themselves as you tried to make up an excuse.

nothing came to mind.

carl didn't mind, however, as instead of waiting for you to make up an excuse, he moved his hand further. you felt his hand slip beneath your jeans, just above your panties, cupping your clothed pussy. "that why you're soaking?" you couldn't so much as respond before feeling his lips plant themselves against your neck once more.

your eyes fluttered shut, feeling his mouth leave kisses against your neck and his hand move gently against your soaking heat. you found your own hips rutting down on the hand softly, trying to create the friction you'd missed so dearly. however, your eyes soon blinked themselves open again upon realising what you were doing. "carl." you murmured softly. "everyone's downstairs." worry coating your tone thickly.

he only hummed before retracting his head from your neck. "so you're gonna have to be really good 'n stay quiet f'me. think you can do that, yeah?"

it was a stupid idea, you were aware. anyone could have come in, i mean it wasn't like the rooms exactly came with locks. but you'd missed him for an entire week, an entire week filled with lonely nights, itching to reach your hand down beneath your pink panties and yet, you'd been unable. you'd waited long enough for him. "mhm, i can stay quiet."

carl found his lips turning upwards. "good girl." this time, however, he attached his lips to your own and not your neck.

you whimpered as his hand moved at your pink panties, a little bow sitting at the top. he didn't utter a word before his fingers danced across your clit, tracing it gently. you knew you had to be quiet, the last thing you needed was anybody hearing you moaning carl's name. but it was so hard when he was finally giving you the sweet relief you'd wanted so desperately.

"shh shh." gently shushing you as his pointer finger dragged across your folds, collecting your slick before shoving it inside your aching hole. "i know, baby, i know." trying to keep you as quiet as he could while pumping a finger in and out of you.

he used his free hand to grab the back of your head, softly placing it against his shoulder so you could moan into the cloth of his own flannel, your eyes rolling at the feeling of him adding yet another, long, thin finger.

carl knew he was making you feel good, he never doubted himself in that department. he was well aware of how you reacted just to his fingers, the way you'd stare at them while he messed with something idly or when he was cleaning his knives and you'd sit on his lap, eyes trained on his long fingers.

"doin' so good, angel." kissing the crown of your hair as he played around with your hole. "so good f'me." did he know the true affect his words had on you?

your eyes squeezed shut, unable to make a coherent sentence. you felt the band in your stomach begin to build. that hot pleasure you'd been wanting to experience all while carl was gone.

but you couldn't let yourself feel it all yet.

"carl." you whined out as quietly as you could. "need you." and he knew what that meant.

you practically scrambled against him, wanting him to stop fingering you so you could come on his dick but he wanted to take his sweet time with you. which is why he shushed you again, petting your head like a puppy. "shh, pretty girl, i'll give you what you want later, jus' relax." he'd coax you through your first orgasm before putting himself inside of you. this way, he'd be able to slip in much easier.

you let him soothe you as your eyes fluttered shut again. you tried, in all your will, to keep them open. you attempted to struggle, babbling pathetically as you found yourself reaching your brink.

the band snapped.

you could have screamed in pleasure.

your fists grabbed at his flannel, trying everything in your will to cling to him. he only shushed you further, cooing and holding your mouth to his shoulder as you emitted loud moans. it was a wonder if anyone hadn't heard you. but as of now, you couldn't find it in yourself to care, too overwhelmed with the feeling of white that coated your vision.

"good girl, good girl." he kept repeating so softly into your ear. his fingers still moved at your gushing hole, letting you ride out your high while trying to keep yourself quiet. the task proved itself to be much harder than he'd presented it.

when you'd finally rode out your high, he softened the hand against the back of your head, letting you look up at him. your mouth was open, drool coating your bottom lip while your eyes looked sort of wide and fucked out. he'd kissed you softly then, smirking at what he'd created.

he loved having you like this, turning from the sweet and innocent girl you were a couple of hours ago, helping glenn pick flowers for maggie, to how you were now, fucked out with a look of bliss in your eye. it was like you were made for him. made for him to ruin.

"you still want this?" he questioned, though some could deem it as rhetorical, seeing as he was well aware that you could never say no to such an offer, not from him. you nodded your head, still out of breath. "then say it." finding his lips quirking up.

he knew you were too blissed to say a word. he'd be surprised if you could so much as form a coherent sentence. but you needed him, desperately so. "need..." your breaths falling heavily against your raw lungs. "need you." a mere two words, you'd struggled to even get that out.

if there was anything carl liked to do more than fuck your brains out, it was tease you until it was in scrambles. "where's your manners?" but he didn't look angry. on the contrary, he had that shit eating grin displayed across his face.

you had just about enough of his antics. "please, carl." bucking your hips forward despite the fact that your panties and jeans had been somewhere discarded on the floor, leaving you bare as he stood clothed in front of you.

that changed, all too soon. he kissed you roughly while ridding himself of the flannel he wore, tearing off the grey shirt beneath it and then finding your own pretty spaghetti tank top. he grasped the pink material between his fingers, practically ripping it above your head.

his lips moved from your own to your breasts, one of his hands slowly kneading the other. you could barley keep yourself silent, head thrown back and pretty whimpers falling from your lips.

that only egged carl on more. with your nipple sat in between his lips, he glanced up at you. his tongue rolled across your nipple causing yet another whimper to leave your pretty pink lips. he couldn't help himself, not when you looked so pretty for him.

he removed his mouth from your tit, finding himself all too wrapped up in the thought of being inside of you. he grabbed your hips roughly before lifting you and shoving you back down onto the coffee table roughly. your legs were spread as you ached for him, his lips meeting yours much more rough than before.

your hands moved to his hair, gently tugging on it as his own hands moved to his belt. you watched him slip it off before grasping the buttons of his jeans. you were too wrapped up in kissing him, yet you still stole glanced downwards so you could see what he was doing.

not that he'd ever move at a pace where you didn't know what was happening.

you watched him pull his hard cock out from beneath his grey boxers, finding yourself holding your breath. every single time, without fail, you forgot just how big he was.

your eyes were slightly wide, tracing over his entire length. at this point, you'd stopped kissing, both merely looking downward to your entrance and his dick. "you ready?" you felt his fingers grab at your chin, lifting your face to meet his. you nodded slowly, eyes still all hazy and fucked out. "words, sweet girl."

"nmph, 'm ready." wanting nothing more than him inside of you. you'd waited too long for this.

he pressed a singular kiss to your lips before sliding himself inside your pretty hole.

your eyes shut closed again, squeezing together as you felt his head go inside, slowly but surely he slipped his entire length in, your cum coated walls making it easier. your mouth was parted open, a shaky breath leaving your lips. you felt him settle inside of you, opening your eyes to look at his pretty features.

he was in awe of you. you looked practically cock drunk, and he'd barely gotten inside. your hazy look was enough to set his heart ablaze. you felt him leave your gummy walls before ramming back inside.

you whimpered and whined. once he began, he couldn't stop.

his hands were practically glued to your hips, holding them against him while thrusting into you, using your hips to guide him inside. you whined as the table you sat on shoved against the back wall, hitting against it. you wondered if anyone could hear, but you couldn't bring yourself to care, all you cared about was carl fucking you silly.

his hand came up to your cheeks, thumb dancing around your lips before shoving it inside your mouth.

your eyes fluttered closed, lips taking in his thumb and sucking on it, tongue flat against it. it helped with your whines and whimpers, letting your noises be muffled with your closed mouth, enveloping his singular finger.

at the same time, carl never stopped the thrusts in and out of you. if anything, he sped up. he couldn't help himself, practically animalistic as a white creamy ring coated the base of his dick. "fuck." he practically stammered out, shoving his dick inside. "y'so pretty like this." you were pretty all the time, beautiful even. but this, this was one of carl's favourite ways to see you. you felt his free hand move his other thumb down towards your clit, gently tracing it again. it caused you to let out a harsh whine, practically shoving yourself closer onto his dick, unconsciously. you couldn't unhear the laugh that sprouted from his lips with a coo following soon after. "sensitive?" he questioned but didn't wait for an answer before drawing tight little circles around your clit.

with the mix of his dick inside of you, pumping in and out roughly, his thumb dancing across your clit and his thumb, grounding you, you were sure that the feeling began to fill up in your stomach once again.

carl felt your sopping walls clench around him. "so soon?" he almost laughed at you, but you were too blissed to even register that he was mocking you. instead, you nodded, practically drooling on his thumb. but he wasn't one to laugh for he felt the same feeling build in his own stomach.

your mouth left around his finger, leaving his thumb mush the spit he'd collected around your lips. there was something about the way you'd do whatever it is he wanted, without question that just... drove him over the edge.

"carl." you whined out, doe eyes looking up at him with scrunched brows.

"y'gonna cum?" he practically teased, watching you nod swiftly. "gonna cum on my dick, huh?" too pussy drunk to understand what he was saying, either. "c'mon, baby, cum f'me." his thumb never stopping the circles against your clit.

he felt your walls clench around him for the last time, before gushing.

his own hips stuttered, faltering as he felt you cum all over his dick. it drove him over the edge as his own cum spewed from his dick, still inside you. "fuck, fuck, fuck..." mumbling with his eyes closed, unable to feel anything else other than your cum coating his own dick.

he glanced down, seeing your sticky cum mixed with his own, drooling from your pretty hole. his hips gently rocked into your own, his dick sliding out of you, coated in both your juiced before bucking back inside of you.

with fucked out, teary eyes you looked up at him, almost confused. "c'mon, you got one more in you, huh?" slowly, you nodded your head. "yeah, 'know you do. good girl, good girl."

main masterlist/carl's masterlist

[theoxenfree]

TINCTURE OF ACONITE

werewolf x "magic" practitioner!reader | 2.4k

a man is told about a dilapidated inn on the outskirts of the village that houses a practitioner of unsavory sorts. he seeks you out to find a cure for his affliction—lycanthropy. with blood on his hands, at the mercy of a fate of cruel uncertainties, he has no choice but to take on the task you give to him and the catch that comes with it: he must decide if he deserves to live or die.

warnings; dark fantasy, mentions of blood and mutilation, a very dark interpretation of lycanthropy, very evasive interpretation of what a "practitioner" is, mc smokes, theological discussion, derogatory insult (e.g. bitch), roughly proofread.

this is the first of my prompts fulfilled for my personal october writing project! this was also the prompt that won the first poll!

i would appreciate it enormously if y'all would please reblog + leave me feedback on this! particularly if you'd be interested in seeing this as a full story down the line!

From the hawk-nosed widow selling stale bread and wrinkled, gray potatoes with mysterious growths, he'd learned about a dilapidated inn fringing the northwest end of the village. There, she had said warily, with keen and wise eyes showing wide whites and tiny bloodshot threads, he would find the answers to everything he had never asked for.

He would find the Practitioner.

It took him less time than he thought to find his way across the village, away from the cursory and reluctant and distrustful looks as he lumbered through in his heavy boots and loose-fitting black tatters he'd sewn together himself time and time again. His face was haggard, skin wet and ashen, and he couldn't remember the last time he held a blade to shave his face, tame his long, dark hair.

To the townspeople, he must've looked like a wildman; uncivilized; belonging to the deep wood and meadows and smelling thickly of untouched nature, mud, and musk. Perhaps, now, he was just that because he also could no longer remember a time where he'd been welcome to sleep in a bed, ate a meal cooked and seasoned to be used with cutlery, allowed himself to be gripped by scalding water and bath salts, reveled the touch of another person.

Upon reaching the inn sometime later, a tiered, hulking structure which seemed to rot from the inside out; the middle of the massive thing bowing inward as though slowly being sucked underground—into hell, he was greeted at the entrance without ever having needed to knock.

“Second floor,” was all the older fellow said. A man with unhealthy grayness to his complexion that rivaled his own. All of the vigor, pink liveliness was long gone from his face and his eyes reflected nothing—not a want, a wish, a worry, or thought beyond remembering to move one foot after the next to keep locomotion.

He moved beyond the gaunt, wispy fellow who quietly closed the door, then shuffled off through another threshold leading elsewhere. He'd been instructed to go to the left, to the end of hall and through the door which faced him.

When he did this, the somnolent dreariness of the world outside fell away and he was sucked into silence filled with static. The room was sentient, almost, swirling with immense wafts of burning herbs, fragrant flora, dark tendrils of smoke emerging from wilted candle wicks and the cherry flickers at the tips of them.

“Well, aren't you a sad sight!” Your voice was deceptively upbeat in comparison to this room, this place. He noticed you seated in a high-backed chair padded in ripped red velvet, a large table stretched out before you and sprawled with many, endless things. “It isn't easy to find this place. Who told you about me?”

“The potato seller at the village.” He said.

You pressed a flat, metal tip between your lips and sucked in on some weird instrument, blowing out a profuse cloud of faint, purple smoke which smelled otherworldly and familiar.

“You mean the widow with the crazy eyes?”

“I…suppose so, yes.”

“She's crazy, you know?”

“She told me you'd be able to cure me.”

You smiled like he'd just told you an amusing joke, wooed you a bit in the process. He watched your teeth come out from behind your lips and clench down on the metal tip.

“Cure you? She wouldn't have used those words. She despises me and likes to think people she sends my way meet their death. What a vindictive old bitch. She’ll get hers one day.” You said, then gestured to the empty chair opposite the table to you. “I’m flattered you think so highly of me, though. We’ve only just met. But, I know a desperate man when I see one. I know a cursed man when I see one.”

The chair was uncomfortable, not at all wide enough, strong enough to bear his form but it did not collapse under his weight, only creaked and whimpered. You were observing him as casually as he would have had a friend a long time ago, with such little regard for safety, little fear of this brawny and moody stranger sitting across from you at a table with countless, shatterable objects.

It occurred to him after an awkward moment of silence (on his end, you were perfectly at ease), you were waiting for him to diffuse his anguish, his worries, his curse—why he was really here in this room with you now. Only, he wasn't sure where to start, nor what information he could give that you'd consider pertinent apart from the rest.

He'd forgotten how to speak to people during his long, lonely solitude as well, it seemed.

“The woman—the widow—she told me you're a practitioner in the Devil’s Magic. Is that true?” he mumbled, for one second considering taking one of the hundreds of baubles on the table to turn over in his hands. “I do not much believe in any of that. The workings of any god or evil, it isn't related to my affliction. But, I want to know if you're actually capable of curing me, or a charlatan scamming the poor to be even poorer.”

You exhaled more of the luxurious smoke from your strange pipe before finally setting it aside to take up a round flask made of clear glass. Despite it appearing empty, something unseeable sloshed within—water, perhaps—and it smelled foul when you uncorked it.

“Devil’s Magic,” you seemed to consider his wordage with a derisive smile, but he had a feeling this wasn't about him. “That old wretch is something else. Handsome Sir, I am a lot of things and no one important. I am no witch, wizard, magician, druid, and I am certainly no charlatan. I might be able to help you with your case of lycanthropy.”

Hope reignited in his eyes, still but a dull flicker waiting to be snuffed as it had many times before, yet he always dared to feel this way whenever a possibility arose.

“I—never mentioned my affliction,” surprised as he was, he now knew he'd made the right choice spending his afternoon finding the inn rather than continuing onward for the next town. “How can you be so certain that's what I suffer—”

“A man of your destitute and good manners aren't the types who get stricken with vampirism or cursed by hags. You were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time, I'll bet. A good man, loyal to a fault to an… owner? An employer? A lover, perhaps?”

You were staring over his face searchingly at the end, carefully winding your wrist with the nauseating, invisible concoction in your hand. For a moment, there was nothing but silence as he considered the meaning behind your exact curiosity, trying to pry an answer from you with a stern look he'd used to terrify and award himself some small, scarce comforts.

When you didn't falter, he slouched deeper into his seat, clearly defeated by your eccentricity and dumb fearlessness.

“Thousands of miles away, I once served a Duke and a Duchess as their guard. One night, I was sent out as the baleful cries of some beast had sent My Lady into a frenzy, my My Lord into a fit of rage. Those lands were cursed, everyone was well aware, but I've never thought above my status and so I went.

“The night was all around me. Something lurked in the trees, perhaps lost souls, perhaps something else. The mist moved as though alive, a limb, an arm, an extension of the forest itself and I could scarcely see. But then, I saw it: an enormous, bent creature in a man’s torn clothes. It had the vicious face of a wolf, yet it could walk upright like a man and when I gave chase, it could sprint unlike anything I'd ever seen.”

You were leaning to one side of your throne now, an arm bent on top of the armrest while you swiveled the bottle, still watching him as though he were simply divulging some asinine discontent.

“I—” he paused, breathing arrested behind the rise of ugliness in his throat, something that tasted as vile as it was to remember.

Until then, he had been speaking to you quietly and sullen, like a man resolved to his fate. But now, he listened to his own voice fracture, quiver, and croak. Beyond that, his face and ears burned, aching from embarrassment, every emotion he had belittled himself into hiding away.

“I—was restrained by the damned thing and it took a chunk out of my side. I thought it would rip me apart; part of me wishes it had. Everything after that for a while is a blur to me even now, and I never remember the instances when I… change… only that the night calls to me, the moon a siren’s song.”

“Have you killed anyone as a beast?” you asked.

The mention made his gaze shift down to his hands which still groped the bauble, finding it a safe thing to concentrate on in that moment. Fortunately, the impossible heat in his head was quickly receding and he could once again fully regain clarity.

“I would have to believe so, yes,” he chose to say, honestly. “When I become the monster, I never have a recollection of the things that happen. But, I've awoken enough times covered in blood, surrounded by mutilation to ever claim otherwise.”

Now, you had the pipe back in your mouth and were inhaling the dreamy fumes. Letting the purple haze out of your nostrils. You were no longer looking at him, instead skittering the vastness of things across your tabletop, obviously in search of something.

“I want to be forthright with you, though you've only kept an air of mystery around yourself the entire time,” he started, replacing the object back on your table with the rest. “Either, I want your help for a cure, or I want you to develop a poison that will kill both myself and the beast inside of me.”

Your eyebrows ticked up, conveying the most emotion he'd seen out of you yet. “Those are both extremes. I cannot promise you anything because I am not a practitioner of magic or miracles. I am simply: the Practitioner. You will be the one to decide your own fate, for I cannot decide it for you.”

“I don't understand.” He looked at you helplessly, weathered and weighted.

From among the mass of stuff before you both, you pulled out a small notebook bound in leather, secured with a strap. You resumed puffing away on your pipe once he took it from you, studying it with some measure of apprehension and revulsion.

“This notebook contains many different specimens I've studied over, oh, some years. One of those specimens is a plant called aconite. You must find me a bushel, along with a handful of other things, and bring them back to me for me to create the tincture you need to either be cured or poisoned.”

He examined the notebook front to back several times, as though all of his answers would suddenly materialize across the covers. Of course, no such thing happened. “You have this table of the strangest things I've ever seen, and yet you don't have the things needed to create the tincture. I’m finding you to be a liar.”

You gave a great huff of exasperation, blowing purple smoke towards him in retaliation. “And I'm finding you to be among the dullest of men I've ever met. These things that I have do not serve a purpose to individuals. You must be the one to create the tincture for yourself. It is the intention behind it; your thoughts, feelings, beliefs, and desires. You have to decide what you truly think you deserve—what you truly want.”

“That is witchcraft,” he said, incredulous. “It's magic!”

Again, you gripped the metal with your teeth and smiled around it. “Is it magic, or is it the power of your own thinking? Is your lycanthropy the result of a beast or your own illness? Will you live or die? I can't answer those things for you.”

“Then, I must go.” He found a pocket inside his coat that hadn't worn or torn with all his previous transformations and tucked it there. When he rose from the crackling chair, wood springing back to life once he was out of it, you surprisingly stood with him. “I'll find the answers I need. I'll return to you with these things.”

You were less awful seeming up close, a normal person dwarfed by his size. It was an odd feeling to be in such close proximity to someone else, one who didn't shrink and cower beneath the severity of his face—the dark brows and dark hair and unshaven jaw. But, you stood there with him next to the door to let him out, unafraid and fixed in your confidence that he would bring you no harm.

It moved him.

It moved him so deeply that he reached for your warmth, or your illusion, and kissed you deeply. He relished the touch of your lips, the press of your body against his, and the taste of your fragrant smoke which was effervescent and sparkling in his mind.

He could have taken you to bed right then, lain naked with you, damp with sticking skin while tangled together in an embrace, luxuriating in the afterglow.

But, he could not answer those desires while with his affliction as you would die, and he couldn't burden that sort of grief after knowing the touch of another. He even wondered, with some shame, whether he deserved to know someone of your caliber, your mysticism and wisdom, after slaughtering men and women whom he'd never know the names of. Those whose families would never know closure.

He kissed you once more, letting it linger and swell with his feelings before he let you go and went for the door.

“I'll return to you.”

You still had your pipe and smoked it, smiling evenly and contentedly.

“I wonder what you'll choose in the end.”

[serpentandlily]

Untouchable Part IX Teaser

Untouchable - Azriel x Rhysand'sSister!Reader

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

“I’m not waiting any longer,” Azriel growled at his High Lord. “I’m leaving. Now.”

Both Azriel and Rhysand looked worse for wear. Rhys’s face was littered with bruises and cuts and Azriel was sure he looked no better. But he didn’t care. All he cared about right now was that his mate was in the hands of that fucking sorcerer and he was going to rip that male apart limb by limb for ever thinking he could take her.

“We need to think this through, Az,” Feyre pleaded. “If you rush in, you’ll end up dead and be of no help to Y/n.”

Azriel’s hands tightened into fists. These past two days had been hell. Once Rhys had misted the Prince in the clearing, he had winnowed the three of them back to Velaris—to start planning their rescue mission.

He hadn’t even gotten two words out before Azriel pounced on him. He could barely remember those first few hours after she had been taken. All he knew was the anger he felt—the rage. The mating bond snapping into place. The bargain breaking. And her…his love being taken away from him, his heart and soul with her. 

And Rhys, the fucking asshole, had been at the center of his anger. For making him agree to that bargain with him in the first place. For making him stay away from her—his mate.

It had taken Cassian, Mor and Feyre to pull them apart that day. 

He had stopped starting fights with Rhys but his anger still pulsed under his skin, ready to strike at a moment's notice. 

"We've had plenty of time to think,” Azriel snapped at his High Lady, causing Rhys’s head to shoot up with a warning glare. 

“Watch your tone,” Rhys bit back at him.

“Fuck you, Rhys!” Azriel slammed his scarred hands down on the desk between them. “I’m going and I swear to the Gods if you try to stop me, I’ll rip your throat out!” 

“No, fuck you, Azriel!” Rhys yelled, standing up to his full height. “Stop acting as if you’re the only one affected by this! She was my sister long before she was your mate! Maybe if you hadn’t gone behind my back—” 

“Maybe if you hadn’t made us make that stupid bargain with you in the first place, we would’ve never had to! I could’ve had centuries with her. You stole all those years from us!” 

The second the bond snapped between him and his mate, Azriel swore he lived a whole lifetime. A whole lifetime they hadn’t been afforded. It had all flashed right before his eyes. His mate…His beautiful mate. She deserved so much better than this and as soon as he got her back in his arms, he would give her the whole world. He'd tear the sun from the sky if it would make her happy. 

“Guys, stop! This fighting between the two of you has only made things worse! Fight all you want once we get Y/n back, but you need to focus. Both of you. For her sake,” Feyre snapped.

Azriel ran a hand through his hair, letting out a noise of frustration. His shadows swarmed around him like a monsoon—screaming his mate’s name over and over again in agony. “You don’t understand, Feyre. Every single time I feel her…during those tiny moments she slips through to the bond…all I feel is her pain. He’s torturing her. How am I supposed to sit here while my mate is being tortured?” 

He turned away from them, unable to look at Rhys any longer as a few tears slipped down his cheeks. He had completely and utterly failed his mate. Had let her get into the arms of an enemy. This was all his fault…all of it. She would’ve never even ran away from Velaris if he had never tried to move on with Elain last year. He put those thoughts in her head and there was nothing he regretted more in his life. He had never wanted Elain. He had never even wanted Mor. He had tried, when he thought Rhys’s sister was off limits, to move on. But he had never, ever stopped loving her. He had never felt anything for anyone other than her. 

And she had been ripped away from him before they could even have a life together. 

“That’s it,” Rhys whispered from behind him. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of it sooner.”

“What?” Azriel snarled, whipping around. 

“You said you can feel her sometimes—through the bond, right?”

Azriel nodded his head, crossing his arms. 

Rhys stroked his jaw in thought. “He must be drugging her with faebane. But not consistently. There must be small moments when it wears off before he gives her another dose. That’s why you can feel her sometimes.” 

“Where are you going with this?” Feyre asked.

“We can use the mating bond to tell us when to act,” Rhys explained. “When Azriel can feel her, we know her magic is regenerating. We should stop looking at this as battle and more like a stealth mission. We bait Koschei into coming to the water’s edge the moment Azriel feels my sister down the bond—act like we are declaring war. Keep him distracted long enough for her to get back most of her power. Meanwhile, Azriel can slip into the cabin, release her from whatever binds he has her in and get her out.” 

“What about the wards around the cabin? No one can winnow in or out. Even Az’s shadows might set it off.”

“I’ll have to get inside without using any magic,” Azriel said. “I can do it. I can get to her. As long as you keep him distracted and buy me enough time.” 

“Helion has given Y/n some lessons on setting and breaking wards,” Rhys added. “Once she sees you, once she realizes she’s being saved, she can start working on breaking them so she can winnow the two of you out.” 

“And you trust that she’ll be able to do that?” Feyre asked. 

Rhys let out a long sigh. Azriel knew how much it would pain him to have to force his sister to save herself. Rhys had always been the one doing the heavy lifting for their family, always keeping his sister as protected as he could, especially after she almost died. But he couldn’t save her this time. 

He’d need to have faith in her.

“She can do it,” Azriel declared, full of confidence in his mate’s abilities. “She is not that little girl in the woods anymore, Rhys. You’ve trained her. I’ve trained her. She is more than capable of this.”

“I know she’s not,” Rhys whispered. “She hasn’t been. Not for a long time. And I’m sorry, Azriel, I truly am. You’re right. I should’ve never forced you to make that bargain.”

“Save your apology for when I get my mate back,” Azriel spat out.

[hees-mine]

𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟕 𝐌𝐚𝐟𝐢𝐚 𝐛𝐨𝐬𝐬! - 𝐋.𝐡𝐬

𝐇𝐞𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠 ⚥ 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: smut, mentions of death and killing. Sorry I couldn’t make this longer I’m disappointed in this one the most so far :/

𝐦𝐚𝐟𝐢𝐚! 𝐡𝐞𝐞 who treats everyone like they’re under him because they’re, and people don’t dare even blink wrongly in his presence.

𝐌𝐚𝐟𝐢𝐚! 𝐡𝐞𝐞 that doesn’t care about anyone’s feelings cause business has never been about feelings. That’s why there’s only one of him and so many others who can’t get their priorities straight.

𝐌𝐚𝐟𝐢𝐚! 𝐡𝐞𝐞 who you occasionally hear demeaning and yelling at someone over the phone, but as soon as he notices your presence, his eyes will immediately soften cause even though he’s the toughest there is you’re still just too precious that he doesn’t want you seeing any of the ugly that goes on in his world.

𝐌𝐚𝐟𝐢𝐚! 𝐡𝐞𝐞 that has a whole life that his precious girlfriend, you, his soon to be wife, knows nothing about, not because he’s hiding things, but it’s for your own safety the only thing you do know is that he’s apart of the mafia, but that’s all, you have no idea what he does.

𝐌𝐚𝐟𝐢𝐚! 𝐡𝐞𝐞 that despite what typical mafia bosses do, he’s faithful to you and only you.

𝐌𝐚𝐟𝐢𝐚! 𝐡𝐞𝐞 that even though he’s gone for days without telling you his whereabouts, he showers you in love, gifts and roses the day he gets back to the little house near the river far away from his other life.

𝐌𝐚𝐟𝐢𝐚! 𝐡𝐞𝐞 that puts you first cause no matter what, you’ll always be more important than any job or work that might need tending to.

𝐌𝐚𝐟𝐢𝐚! 𝐡𝐞𝐞 that the moment someone finds out where you both live and tries putting your life in danger, he’ll put them down without a second thought.

𝐌𝐚𝐟𝐢𝐚! 𝐡𝐞𝐞 that when he sees just how scared you are, there’s no choice but for him to move you to a safe location and cut ties with everything going off the radar and completely untraceable.

𝐌𝐚𝐟𝐢𝐚! 𝐡𝐞𝐞 that will leave the business upon your request because he never wanted that life for himself anyways, but after he got revenge for his father's death it was a lot harder to leave than he thought.

𝐌𝐚𝐟𝐢𝐚! 𝐡𝐞𝐞 that when he met you at a small diner in the corner shop, you turned his whole life around. You gave him meaning, and since he wanted more for you, he ultimately needed more for himself, which is why he got so caught up in the business. He wanted to make money so you two would never have a care in the whole world, and now that he’s done that, he can finally be with you.

𝐌𝐚𝐟𝐢𝐚! 𝐡𝐞𝐞 treats you like a princess always. The gifts never end. He showers you with the finest of diamonds and the most expensive furs, taking you out for a night on the town, you hanging off his arm without a care in the world.

𝐌𝐚𝐟𝐢𝐚! 𝐡𝐞𝐞 who at night after your date will undress you slowly while whispering sweet nothings into your ear praising you for how good you are to him and how you turned him into the man he’s always wanted to be.

𝐌𝐚𝐟𝐢𝐚! 𝐡𝐞𝐞 that lays you in the king sized bed filled with rose petals and kisses every single square inch of your skin until you beg for him to make love to you.

𝐌𝐚𝐟𝐢𝐚! 𝐡𝐞𝐞 that you’re so used to seeing him be cold to others that it’s still almost shocking the way he melts whenever he’s with you falling apart when he feels your warmth encasing his length.

𝐌𝐚𝐟𝐢𝐚! 𝐡𝐞𝐞 that promises you a life full of love happiness and a family while you look at each other with heart eyes because that’s all either of you have ever wanted.

Thanks for reading please reblog and leave feedback!

[youflowerr-youfeast]

Lavender Haze (NH13) - Chapter One.

a/n: Ok, HERE WE GOOO! Full context - this chapter is a bit heavy, especially for the first one, but it's important to the plot, I swear!!! So I apologise for sad boi hour, but it hold on until the end bc it gets cute! I am low key so nervous to share this because I haven't written in some time, but I am taking a note from our main girl of this story and being brave! lmaoo

** Content warning: death, grief. **

5.1K words

Sofia. 

May 3rd. 

To everyone else, it was just another day—24 hours that would come and go like any other. People would wake up, go to work, return home, and never think twice about it. But for her, it was different.  

May 3rd should have been Sofia’s 23rd birthday. A day she would have once celebrated with joy. But now, it carried a lot more weight than that. It was the anniversary of her brother's death—six years since she last saw him.  

As a child, her birthday had been almost her favourite day of the year, filled with excitement so intense she could barely sleep the night before. Her parents used to gently tease her for being a bundle of energy, forever telling her to calm down and go to bed. Back then, her birthday was just that—pure, unbridled joy, untouched by grief.

Her seventeenth birthday was supposed to be simple, but it was the one that changed everything. It was meant to just be a small gathering with close friends and family. But what she was truly excited about was Max, her older brother, coming home from college. She hadn’t seen him in almost six months, and with her senior year taking up most of her time, their calls had become rare. The thought of having him there, even for just a day, meant more to her than anything else.

The night began with her best friends arriving, filling the house with laughter and lighthearted gossip about high school crushes and menial drama. But as the evening wore on, she couldn’t stop glancing at her phone. Max still hadn’t shown up.

Each time she checked the time, frustration gnawed at her. Maybe he was just running late, or maybe—though she hated the thought—he’d forgotten. She tried to focus on the party, but the longer he was absent, the harder it became to push down the nagging feeling she felt in her heart and stomach.

It was when her aunt stepped into the living room, her expression so sombre that the laughter instantly faded. In that moment, she felt it in her chest—something was terribly, horribly wrong.

She sprang to her feet and hurried toward her aunt, who gently led her out of the room, away from the curious stares and whispers of her friends.

“Sweetheart… it’s—it’s Max…” her aunt began, her voice trembling, but she was abruptly interrupted by the sound of her mother’s sobs echoing down the hall from the kitchen. That sound—raw and broken—made the truth hit her like a punch to the chest. Her aunt’s voice trembled, the weight of what she had to say too heavy to bear. “He was on his way here and…” She paused, the words almost too painful to speak. “There was an accident, sweetheart. A drunk driver ran a red light and hit his car.” She looked away, her voice barely above a whisper. “The ambulance… it didn’t make it in time.”

The walls had closed in around her that day, suffocating her with the weight of those words. He wasn’t late. He hadn’t forgotten. God, how she had wished he’d simply forgotten. But Max wasn’t coming home. He wasn’t ever coming home. The sound of her mother’s sobs had shattered her last shred of hope. He was gone, and with him, a piece of her heart had been ripped away, leaving her hollow.

Even now, six years later, the same crushing weight settled on her chest. She sat alone in her apartment, nursing her third glass of red wine, her eyes fixed blankly on the clock—just as she had that night, waiting for someone who would never arrive. May 3rd, once a day of joy and celebration, had become a shadow that hung over her, heavy and inescapable.

The wine swirled lazily in her glass as she sat in the stillness of her living room, weighed down by the pull of her memories. Each tick of the clock on the wall seemed to echo louder in the quiet, stretching the silence until it felt unbearable. With a heavy sigh, she stood and drifted toward the shelves that held her collection of records—a hobby she’d shared with Max as a teenager.

She ran her fingers absentmindedly over the spines, not caring which album she chose. It didn’t matter. She just needed sound—anything to drown out the relentless swirl of thoughts in her mind. Picking a random vinyl, she placed it on the turntable, letting the familiar soft crackle of the needle fill the empty space. It was a small comfort, but it was enough for now.

As the first notes hummed softly through the room, she wandered into the kitchen, reaching for the half-empty bottle of red on the counter. With a quiet sigh, she poured herself another glass, watching the dark liquid swirl. “Happy birthday, Fia,” she muttered weakly, raising the glass to her lips for a long, slow sip. The words felt hollow, as if they belonged to someone else.

Her phone had buzzed a few times earlier, well-meaning messages from friends asking her to come out for drinks, to celebrate like she used to. But she had ignored them. She always did on this day. The thought of being around anyone else, of pretending everything was normal, felt impossible.

Instead, she let the solitude wrap around her, the soft music filling the hollow space as she took another slow sip of wine. For a while, it was enough—a fragile barrier between her thoughts and the weight of the day.

But as the minutes ticked by, the silence was gradually interrupted. A muffled sound, distant at first, began creeping through the walls. Voices. Laughter. It started as a low hum, barely noticeable, but it grew louder, more persistent, until it was impossible to ignore.

She shifted on the couch, trying to block it out. Turning the volume up on the record player, she closed her eyes and leaned back, focusing on the music. But the voices, the laughter—deep and rowdy—broke through, louder now.

She set down her glass and sighed, brushing a hand through her hair as frustration started to creep in. It’s just a bit of noise, she told herself. You can handle it.

Pushing herself up, she wandered over to the window, hoping a change of view might distract her. She stared out at the dim cityscape of New Jersey, the streets below offering very little in the way of easing her irritation from the lively gathering happening on the other side of her wall. 

The sound of glass clinking and bursts of laughter cut through again, this time even louder, as if a whole crowd had gathered next door. She rubbed her temples, willing herself to stay calm. Maybe she could drown it out by creating some distance. She made her way into her bedroom, closing the door, climbing onto her bed, and switching on her TV to find a movie that she could fall asleep to. But even as the first few opening scenes of the film played the bass of their voices still managed to seep through. 

She gritted her teeth, her patience wearing thinner with each passing minute. This wasn’t just a few people chatting—it sounded like a full-blown party. On any other day, she probably wouldn’t have cared that her new neighbour was making more noise than usual. The apartment had only recently been occupied, and she might have given them a free pass, maybe even a smile in passing. But not today.

A sharp surge of frustration coursed through her as she pushed herself up from the bed, the laughter and voices growing louder, more distinct. Male voices booming, dishes clattering, and then—what sounded like a cheer erupting from the group. Her pulse quickened, irritation mounting with each noise that shattered the fragile balance she had tried so hard to maintain.

It wasn’t just the noise. It was that it was happening today, of all days. The one day she needed peace. Instead, the chaos on the other side of the wall was stripping away any hope of that happening.

She clenched her jaw, her gaze falling on the half-finished glass of wine beside her. With a sharp breath, she grabbed it, downing the rest in one quick motion. Normally, she could brush off something like this—an inconvenience, a mild frustration—but not tonight. Not when every echo of their joy felt like a reminder that the world moved on without her, indifferent to her pain.

Without a second thought, she slipped on her slippers, snatched her keys from the counter, and marched toward the door, her resolve hardening with every step.

She could feel the heat rising in her chest, her fingers tightening around her keys as she approached her neighbour’s door tha sat beside her’s. For a brief second, she considered turning back, letting it go, retreating to her apartment to drown out the noise with more wine and menial distractions. 

But no. Not tonight. She couldn’t bear the thought of sitting alone with their noise as a backdrop to her upset any longer.

Her knuckles rapped sharply against the door, the sound much louder than she intended. She stood still, bracing herself for whoever would answer, already rehearsing the words she was going to say, though they came out hazy in her mind. 

The noise on the other side suddenly quieted, the laughter fading, and she could hear footsteps approaching the door.

The door swung open, revealing a tall man with tousled dark hair and the biggest brown eyes she’d ever seen. His smile was easy, warm, the kind that made deep dimples appear in his cheeks. He casually brushed a lock of hair out of his eyes, completely unaware of the storm raging inside her.

“Hey…?” he said, his voice warm and relaxed, though a hint of confusion crept in as though he hadn’t anticipated the pretty stranger that lives beside him to be at his door. The lively noise from the apartment immediately spilled into the quiet hallway—laughter, the clink of glasses, and the hum of conversation—filling the space between them. The carefree energy behind him stood in stark contrast to the tension Sofia carried, the weight of her day pressing harder in the face of his effortless cheer.

For a moment, she froze, disarmed by the warmth in his expression. Her frustration, which had burned so brightly moments ago, flickered under the surface. His presence, his cheerfulness, felt like it belonged to a world she couldn’t touch right now—a world that had moved on without her.

She swallowed hard, her voice catching in her throat. “I just…” she began, her tone softer than she’d meant it to be. She cleared her throat, willing herself to sound firm, though the words felt clumsy. “I just came to ask… well, say… could you—” She stopped, nerves bubbling to the surface. “Could you keep it down? It’s… it’s really loud.”

His smile faltered, his expression shifting from confusion to realisation. He glanced over his shoulder at the noise pouring from the apartment before turning back to her, his brown eyes softening with genuine apology. Before he could respond, another figure appeared beside him, slinging an arm around his shoulders.

“Well, who do we have here, Hisch?” the newcomer slurred, his voice thick with alcohol and a lazy grin spreading across his face. It was obvious he’d had more than a few drinks—his eyes unfocused and glassy with amusement. He didn’t bother hiding the mischief in his tone. “Don’t tell me you’ve finally gone and got yourself a girlfriend.”

Sofia’s pulse quickened, her discomfort surging as her stomach twisted at the casual comment. The heat she’d felt earlier was there, simmering just beneath the surface, but expressing it was harder than she’d imagined. She wasn’t used to confrontation, let alone dealing with someone like this, on this day of all days. She tried to steady her breathing, but her chest felt tight.

Her neighbour’s face tensed, his eyes flashing with a mix of embarrassment and frustration. “No, that’s not—” he began, but the drunk friend barreled on, completely oblivious.

“You’ve been keeping this one under wraps, huh?” The guy grinned wider, swaying slightly on his feet. “Gotta say, didn’t expect you to keep such a pretty girl such a big secret. Impressive, man.”

The comment stung, and Sofia’s nerves cracked, her frustration now bubbling to the surface. She tried to hold back, but something in her snapped, her voice coming out sharper than she intended.

“Are you kidding me?” she said, her voice shaking as she took a hesitant step forward, glaring at the man who still seemed too drunk to understand her fury. “I’m not his girlfriend, and I’m definitely not here to be part of some joke for you to laugh at.”

Her hands trembled as she spoke, the anger and grief she’d been bottling up all day spilling over despite her natural instinct to shrink back. “I came here because I wanted some quiet,” she added, her voice tight. “I’ve had the worst day, and the last thing I need is some idiot making disgusting comments.”

The smile on the tipsy man’s face faltered, his drunken bravado crumbling under the weight of her words. For a brief moment, he blinked, clearly caught off guard by the intensity of her outburst. As soon as the words left her mouth, Sofia felt her chest tighten, the anger giving way to something else. Tears pricked her eyes, and to her horror, she realised she was about to cry in front of two complete strangers. She quickly looked away, trying to hold it together, but it was too late.

Nico’s expression shifted, the earlier cheer draining from his face. “Hey… are you okay?” he asked softly, his tone filled with awkward concern. He hesitated for a moment before reaching out, placing a tentative hand on her shoulder.

Sofia instantly shrugged him off, her shoulders stiffening as she desperately tried to avoid meeting either man’s gaze. “Yeah, fine. It’s… it’s fine,” she mumbled, but her voice wavered, betraying the crack in her resolve. The words felt fragile, like they could shatter at any moment. “Have a good night,” she added, her voice barely holding steady, the tremor revealing just how close she was to breaking.

Without waiting for a response, she turned on her heel, retreating to her apartment and closing the door with a final click, sealing herself off from the world outside.

The moment the door shut behind her, the dam broke. Embarrassment and heartbreak rushed over her like a flood. She pressed her back against the door and slowly slid to the floor, her legs giving way as the tears began to fall. Quiet, uncontrollable sobs filled the stillness of her apartment, her grief pouring out in the silence where only she could hear it.

-

The next morning, Sofia dragged herself through the motions, the weight of the previous night still pressing heavily on her chest. Her eyes were swollen from crying, her head aching from a mix of wine and restless sleep. But today, she couldn’t hide away. Her students were waiting.

By the time she arrived at school, the familiar hum of chaos greeted her—the joyful chatter, the shuffle of tiny feet, and the laughter of children playing in their little worlds. 

Sofia forced a smile, the one she had perfected over the years, and stepped into the classroom, her heart heavy but her face calm.

“Miss Sofia!” A small voice rang out, and before she had a chance to set her things down, Ellie—one of her students, bright-eyed and full of excitement—came barreling toward her, clutching a piece of paper in her tiny hands. “Look what I made!”

Sofia knelt down, bracing herself with a deep breath as the girl thrust the drawing into her hands. It was a crayon-drawn masterpiece—a vibrant garden of mismatched flowers, a few animals scattered across the page in bright blues and yellows, nothing to scale, but all the more cute.

“That’s beautiful, Ellie,” Sofia said softly, her voice a little hoarse from last night. “Tell me about it.”

The little girl beamed, her excitement uncontainable. “This is a bunny! And that’s a flower! And these are butterflies—they fly everywhere!”

Sofia nodded, her eyes following the child’s enthusiastic pointing. She smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I love the colours you used,” she added, gently tracing a finger over the bright streaks of crayon. “You did such a good job, El.”

The child’s pride swelled, and she practically bounced on her feet. “I wanted to give it to you, Miss Sofia!” she said, holding the drawing out toward her.

Sofia’s heart clenched at the gesture. She took the drawing and held it close to her chest, her throat tightening ever so slightly. “Thank you. I’ll put it right on my wall where everyone who visits me can see it,” she said, offering a smile, though her voice wobbled slightly.

Ellie beamed again and darted off to play, leaving Sofia kneeling there for a moment, staring down at the colourful picture. She tried to focus on the joy in the child’s drawing and the giggles radiating around her classroom, but her mind kept slipping back to last night—the confrontation, the embarrassment, her neighbour’s concerned voice asking if she was okay. It all hung in the air around her, no matter how hard she tried to shake it off.

The day dragged on. Sofia did her best to keep herself anchored in the moment, focused on her students. The children were lively as ever—building block towers, playing with toys, and eagerly running up to her with their little stories. 

The lunch break finally arrived, and Sofia made her way to the staff room finding her usual seat and slowly picking at pieces of her lunch. Just as she was about to space out with the new book she’d been carrying around for a few days , the door swung open, and in strolled Amelia, her best friend and fellow teacher. Amelia, who taught sixth grade, was a bright spark of energy—bubbly, outspoken, and fiercely protective of Sofia.

“There you are!” Amelia beamed, dropping her lunch onto the table and plopping into the seat next to Sofia. “I’ve barely seen you all morning. You okay?”

Sofia forced a small smile, nodding. “Yeah, just… tired.”

Amelia’s eyes narrowed, immediately sensing the lie. She wasn’t one to let things slide. “Uh-huh. Tired or something else?”

Sofia sighed, picking at the crust of her sandwich. “Both, I guess.”

Amelia raised an eyebrow. “Come on, spill. You don’t look like you’re just tired. You look like you got hit by a truck.”

Sofia winced at the choice of words, the memory of last night and her emotional outburst flashing in her mind, but she knew Amelia meant nothing by it - it was just coincidentally a poor choice of words. 

“It’s nothing, really. I just… didn’t sleep well.”

Amelia’s sharp eyes softened a little, but she wasn’t convinced. “Sofia, I know you. You’re a terrible liar.”

Sofia glanced at her friend, tempted to shrug it off again, but she knew Amelia wouldn’t drop it. She sighed, her voice dropping. “It’s just… last night wasn’t great. My neighbour was having this loud party, and I kinda snapped at him.”

Amelia’s eyebrows shot up. “You snapped? I mean, I’ve heard you raise your voice at a four-year-old trying to flush their snack down the toilet, but at your neighbour? What happened?”

Sofia grimaced, fiddling with the corner of the cover of her book. “It was just one of those nights, you know? I wasn’t feeling well and then like.. the anniversary of… Max.” She trailed off, not needing to explain further. Amelia had been with her through every hard anniversary.

Amelia’s expression softened completely. “Oh, Sof,” she murmured. “Why didn’t you call me?”

Sofia shrugged. “I didn’t want to bother you. I thought I could handle it on my own this year, but then I just… I don’t know. I went over there to tell them to keep it down, but everything came out wrong. His drunk friend made some stupid comment, and I kind of lost it.”

Amelia sat back, her arms crossed as she frowned thoughtfully. “Well, they deserved it then. What did your neighbour do?”

Sofia bit her lip in thought. “He wasn’t really the problem. He was nice, actually. Asked if I was okay and everything. But I still feel like an idiot for losing my temper.”

Amelia shook her head, leaning forward. “You have nothing to feel bad about. Seriously, you never snap. If it was me, I’m certain there would have been police on the scene.”

Despite herself, Sofia let out a small laugh, and Amelia smiled, clearly satisfied. “There it is! I knew I could get you to smile.” She nudged Sofia playfully. “But really, don���t beat yourself up. Everyone has days that people shouldn’t fuck with, Sof.”

Sofia nodded, feeling a little lighter just talking about it. “Thanks. I just… I wish I hadn’t made it so awkward.”

Amelia waved her hand dismissively. “Eh, awkward’s your thing. Own it.”

Sofia rolled her eyes, but the familiar teasing from Amelia felt comforting. As they settled into a more casual conversation, talking about their students and weekend plans, Sofia found herself relaxing. Finally, the weight of last night felt a little less heavy.

As the last child was picked up, she let out a long breath and tidied up the classroom in silence. The bright drawings on the wall, the scattered toys, and the crayon-streaked desks reminded her that, despite everything, she had to keep it together for these little ones. They needed her to be steady, even when she didn’t feel it herself.

When she finally left the school, the afternoon sun was dipping lower in the sky, casting a soft golden glow over the streets. Sofia walked slowly, letting the cool breeze and the warmth of the sun ease the tension she had carried all day. With yesterday behind her, she felt a small sense of peace—another exhale after another year of holding it all in.

But as she reached her apartment door, she stopped short. Something was there.

A small, neatly wrapped bundle of flowers rested against the door frame—delicate lavender, daisies, and soft white roses tied together with a simple ribbon. Her breath hitched, and for a moment, she stood frozen, staring at the unexpected gift, her heart fluttering in surprise.

Slowly, she knelt down, her fingers brushing over the soft petals as she picked up the bouquet. The sweet, calming fragrance wrapped around her, and nestled between the blooms was a small card. Her hands trembled slightly as she opened it, neat handwriting filling the centre:

Sorry about last night. Hope today was a better day. – Nico (your really noisy, annoying neighbour) :) 

Sofia’s chest tightened, her emotions swirling—part surprise, part embarrassment, and something else she couldn’t quite name. She stood there, holding the flowers in her hands, the soft petals brushing against her fingertips, and for the first time in a really long time she felt a flicker of something hopeful. She stared down at the card, reading and rereading the simple words.

Should she thank him?

The thought made her stomach twist with uncertainty. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to face him after the way she’d snapped the night before. The embarrassment from her outburst still stung, and the last thing she wanted was to come off as awkward or ungrateful. Yet, the thought of just letting it go—of not acknowledging the gesture—felt wrong. She glanced toward his door, a few steps down the hall, debating with herself. Her feet remained planted where they were, rooted by hesitation. What would she even say? Her mind raced with possible scenarios, each one more awkward than the last.

I could just leave a note, she thought, but that felt too impersonal, too ungrateful.

Taking a deep breath, she looked down at the flowers again. The soft fragrance was comforting, and something about his thoughtfulness made her feel a little braver. Before she could overthink it any further, her feet moved on their own.

She walked up to his door, heart pounding louder with each step. The hallway suddenly felt too quiet, too tense. Standing in front of his door now, the bouquet still in her hands, Sofia raised her fist hesitantly, her knuckles hovering just above the wood. For a second, she almost turned back. But she pushed the thought aside, summoning her courage.

Before she could second-guess herself again, she knocked.

The knock had barely left Sofia’s knuckles when the door swung open. He stood there, looking slightly surprised but not at all unwelcoming. His hair was still damp, stray strands sticking up like he’d just stepped out of the shower. Dressed in a casual hoodie and athletic shorts, he had that unmistakable post-workout ease about him, his body relaxed yet energised.

“Oh,” he quipped in surprise, his eyebrows lifting slightly. “Hey.” His tone was warm, though clearly caught off guard, with a slight accent that Sofia hadn’t noticed before—soft and melodic, with just a hint of something European.

Sofia’s heart raced, her grip tightening on the flowers. She hadn’t fully prepared herself for this moment. His easy smile, paired with the casual way he leaned against the doorframe, only made her nerves buzz more.

“I, um…” she began, her voice barely above a whisper. She cleared her throat, forcing herself to hold his gaze and speak a little louder. “I got your flowers.”

His expression softened instantly, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Good. I wasn’t sure if you were home. I knocked, but no one answered, so I just left them at the door.” He rubbed the back of his neck, a hint of awkwardness creeping in. “I’d just got back from training and thought I’d drop them off before heading inside.”

“They’re really lovely, thank you, and totally unnecessary,” she replied, feeling her cheeks warm ever so slightly everytime her eyes met with his deep brown ones. 

“No, they were necessary. I just felt really bad about last night. I wasn’t sure how else to say sorry.”

Sofia shifted on her feet, her cheeks flushing. “No, it wasn’t your fault. I’m sorry for snapping at you like that… it was just a really bad day, and I didn’t handle it well.”

He shook his head, his eyes understanding. “You don’t have to apologise. We were way too loud, and I should’ve known better. You had every right to be upset.”

She let out a small sigh of relief, grateful that he wasn’t holding anything against her. “Still… I feel bad. I’m not usually like that.”

He grinned, the dimples in his cheeks showing as he shifted slightly with a shrug. “Everyone has their days. I get it. At least when I have a bad day I don’t have to deal with a party next door.”

Sofia laughed softly, the tension melting away as she caught his playful tone. “Yeah, not the best timing.”

For a moment, they stood in comfortable silence, the flowers still resting in her arms—a tangible reminder of his thoughtful gesture.

“I’m glad you liked the flowers,” he said after a pause, his voice quieter. “I wasn’t sure what else to do.”

Sofia smiled softly, her heart a little lighter. “You didn’t need to do anything, but they are perfect. Thank you.”

Silence settled between them once more, and just as Sofia was about to murmur another thank you and retreat to the safety of her apartment, he shifted, his expression turning slightly hesitant.

“And… about last night,” he began, his tone careful. “I’m not trying to pry, but if you ever need someone to talk to, or just someone to hang out with to get your mind off things, I’m right next door.” He gave her a small, sincere smile. “I know I’m a stranger, but I like to think I’m a pretty good friend, too. At least, that’s what I’ve been told.” He tilted his head playfully giving her another grin that made the indents on his cheeks pop. 

Sofia couldn’t help but smile, a real one this time, though it was small and uncertain. His offer almost felt like a lifeline—a chance to lighten her load, if only for a little while. His easy demeanour, the warmth in his eyes, and that grin with the dimples—it all chipped away at the awkwardness she’d been feeling since last night.

“I appreciate that,” she said quietly, her fingers fiddling with the edge of the bouquet. “Really.”

She felt the urge to retreat, her instinct to protect herself kicking in, but something about his sincerity kept her standing there, as if maybe, just maybe, accepting the gesture wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

“Maybe… maybe I’ll take you up on that sometime,” she added, surprising herself with the words.

His smile widened, his eyes lighting up at her response. “Yeah? No pressure, of course… but I’m Nico, by the way,” he added, nodding toward the card she still held in her hand.

Sofia smiled, her nerves fluttering under the surface. “Sofia,” she replied, then quickly added, “My friends call me Sof, or Fia… you can call me either. Whatever you like,” she rambled, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks as she fumbled over her words. 

Nico chuckled softly, his dimples deepening as he caught the fluster in her voice. “Sof or Fia, huh? I’ll keep that in mind.”

Sofia managed a small laugh, but her heart was still racing, her mind caught somewhere between wanting to retreat and not wanting the conversation to end. She felt the need to say something more, but the words just wouldn’t come.

Nico shifted slightly, leaning against the doorframe, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer than expected. “Well, Sof or Fia… I guess I’ll see you around?”

She nodded, gripping the bouquet a little tighter. “Yeah. See you.”

But even as she turned to leave, she could feel his eyes still on her, a quiet energy hanging in the air between them, like there was something more neither of them was quite ready to say.

Before she reached her door, Nico’s voice called out again, soft and warm. “Hey… for what it’s worth, I’m really glad you knocked.”

Sofia paused, her hand hovering over her doorknob. She looked back, meeting his eyes, a spark of something she hadn’t felt in a long time flickering in her chest.

“Me too,” she said, her voice just above a whisper. 

[jymwahuwu]

I've been thinking about mara struck Jing Yuan...he'll be more aggressive and protective. Honestly, you can see his mara struck from miles away ever since he started being more clingy and possessive than usual. But when the mara finally strikes, it's like all hell breaks loose and Jing Yuan just straight up kidnaps you from Luofu. Yes they might have facilities to help people who are getting mara struck, but if it means he needs to be separated from his wife then he rather runs away while bringing you along with him.

He won't hesitate anymore to fuck you anytime he wants. He's no longer the patient, sweet and vanilla man he used to be. He's now a desperate man who only wants the attention of his wifey, and he also won't hesitate to breed you until you are full of his baby seeds <3. Jing Yuan would also dirty talk you more often, saying nasty things about how much he wants to touch and see your whole body everyday, how much he loves seeing his cum leaking from your pussy everyday.

The type of man who will drink all of his wife's breast milk, no matter how much you begged him to stop since it's supposed for your baby.

But on the other hand, imagine Jing Yuan already maa struck, but sane enough to not let anyone notice and still be a general. Yet when it's just the two of you, he'll become a mean bastard who gropes you everywhere. The amount of times the two of you having sex outside is getting out of hand, him saying the warmth of your pussy is the only thing that can help him calm his mara and even saying he wants to fucks his babies into you right in the middle of the day.

How could you put this into my head? 😩💞I have always been worried about Jing Yuan getting mara in the future. Blade said that everyone has a different way of experiencing mara. Let’s explore the two ways you mentioned🤔

CW: yandere, non-con, kidnapping, angst, forced pregnancy, lactation

It is indeed possible that Jing Yuan can maintain his sanity and continue to do his job as a general. He needs something to hold his mara down, and that's you <3! Before this the General was just waiting for you to visit him at work and bring some comfort food, but now you have to stay by his side all the time. He undresses you and gropes you, rubbing his cock against your folds. You're often sitting uncomfortably in wet panties that you can't change.

As for another possibility, Jing Yuan has always been responsible for Xianzhou. He maintains an upbeat and relaxed demeanor, but that's just a disguise - those friends and enemies are now gone from his side. Occasionally, Jing Yuan misses those good times. Under normal circumstances, they can be suppressed, but these emotions and memories are strengthened in mara's state. Those images frequently appeared in his mind...

gathering with old friends, laughing and playing, companions lost on the battlefield, young self, him who never thought of being a general…

And you - the scene of leaving him repeatedly appeared in his dreams, and in blurred illusions. Different stories, but the same thing is that you show a vague - disappearing look, smile, wave to him, then turn around and slowly walk away. Sometimes, you even have new friend and lover around you. He stretched out his hand, but it was like fishing for the moon in the water, unable to touch your figure.

The general woke up with a start, touched his side, and hugged you into his arms. Those golden eyes like lions did not close all night.

After the curse of longevity really happened, the Ten-Lords Commission arranged for people to take him away, but when they arrived, the general had already taken you away from Luofu. He retained his remaining sanity and left instructions to Fuxuan and Yanqing, passing on the responsibility of managing Luofu to them.

So of course!! He acts possessive in this situation!

Jing Yuan bought a new property on a planet, not as big a mansion as the General's Mansion, but luxurious enough for living. He needs to be alone with you and live a peaceful life, and some strange voices in his ears keep urging him to possess and penetrate you. Be prepared to be pushed onto the bed, on the table, or even caressed in the bathtub. You watched in panic as he took your phone away. "Wait …!! it's not what you think…" Jing Yuan usually lifts you up with his strong arms, pulls your legs apart and thrusts, allowing you to fully receive the seeds .

No. He doesn’t believe you’re out just to buy ingredients <3 Why is your message asking friends for advice?

Jing Yuan is still good at sweet talk. He noticed your twitch under his compliment. He never fails to praise and adore your body and cuteness. Watching you squirt on the bed, you stick out your tongue unconsciously. There is no doubt about your pregnancy.

The day your buds leaked milk, Jing Yuan had been lying on your body, sucking and teasing your areola, which tasted sweet, creamy, and warm. You sobbed, pushing his white hair with your hands and explaining that it was for the baby. The tip of his tongue licks away the drop of white milk from your areola, responds with some vague sounds, and uses his thumb to rub and circle to stimulate.

He knows what he's doing.

He had never been so awake.

If the long life has been about losing, then he has something precious to keep as well.

So that his humanity will not be destroyed.

[hollandorks]

haven

battinson! bruce wayne x f! reader

chapter one

Summary: After the sudden deaths of your mother and grandmother, you’re forced to return home to Gotham…and to the man who broke your heart three years ago. Back in Bruce Wayne’s inescapable orbit, you vow to get to the bottom of your former best friend’s new cold personality. But Bruce’s secrets aren’t what you’re expecting. a

a/n: look a new series! Two things inspired this (besides my everlasting love for the Batman): @bellaxgiornata's angsty Daredevil fic All These Years, and @neutron-stars-collision's Waiting For the Night (which also features an investigative reporter reader, but is set during the film). If you're here because you loved motn, welcome back! If not, check out my other battinson fics here!

(side note: I know this is a reader insert and Dory is canonically white, but reader could be adopted. I never clarify that)

Series Masterlist

word count: 3k

“Both of them are–?” Y/n choked on the last word, unable to get it past the back of her throat. But she thought it anyway. Dead. 

It was early, too early, her pajamas and hair still rumpled from sleep. Three hours until her alarm would go off. The faux hardwood floors were cold beneath her feet. The warmth of her bed was a thousand miles away. Her heart still pounded from being woken by a harsh knocking at her door. When she’d checked the time on her phone, she had four hours of missed calls from Alfred and two from an unknown number.

Alfred put a gentle hand on her shoulder and squeezed. He was the last of her family now, though he didn’t share her blood. “I’m so sorry, darling girl.” 

Y/n’s grandmother, Dory, the woman who raised her, gone. Along with her daughter, y/n’s mother, the woman who abandoned her as a child. Both gone in one fell swoop. She can’t find it within herself to grieve too much for the woman who gave her life. She’d already abandoned her, over and over, the grief lessening each time. 

But her grandmother–A strangled noise passed her lips and Alfred hurried to step in to embrace her.

“She had a great life,” he said gently. “She lived long and lived well.” 

And somehow, it helped. Alfred had been in her grandmother’s life longer than she had, and therefore knew her better. She had lived well, her life long and full. She was eighty-five years old and had still been in relatively good shape, physically and mentally. 

Alfred held her while she cried, the minutes stretching long yet sharp. They pierced her over and over, each one a moment in which her grandmother no longer existed. She didn’t know how long she cried, only that it was nearly impossible to stop. 

“Bruce is covering all expenses, of course,” Alfred said as he released her. 

The name raced through her like a bolt of electricity. Bruce. Of course she had to see Bruce. Dory had worked for his family for nearly fifty years, after all. Her mind flashed back to her last conversation with Bruce, almost three years ago to the day. Hurt washed over her all over again. This one was different than the grief but just as sharp.

“That’s…too kind.” It’s the best she could do. Besides, her income as a journalist in Bludhaven wasn’t exactly enough to cover one funeral, let alone two. So she couldn’t tell Bruce to take his money and shove it. She knew it was a gesture of obligation not of goodwill. 

“You know you and Dory are our family,” Alfred said, his familiar accent a balm to her nerves. He hadn’t missed the almost visceral reaction to Bruce’s name. He had always known, even though he hadn’t ever said a word. 

She almost scoffed at the word family, but held it back at the last moment. Alfred was her family. Just as Bruce had been her family, once. 

I don’t have time for you, he’d practically snarled the last time she saw him. 

The words still ached. 

“Do you want to drive back with me?” Alfred asked, his voice pulling her from thoughts of the past. “Or I can get a hotel for the night if you need time to pack.” 

She hesitated. Part of her wanted to refuse, to wait until the absolute last minute to leave, to delay seeing Bruce again for as long as possible. But she owed it to her grandmother, at least, to be present for the plans honoring her life. And she was sure she needed to sign some paperwork to have the bodies released. 

Bodies. It’s a shock to think of them that way. Two people, two souls, reduced to shells in one accident. 

Her mind jumped to her last conversation with Dory, the previous Sunday. Four days ago. Now she was simply…gone. Had she told her she loved her? She couldn’t remember now, no matter how hard she tried. 

The ache was back, the tears flowing without her express permission. 

“No, let me just–grab a bag and we can go now. I’ll call work on the way.” It helped to have a manageable list of things to do. Pack. Go with Alfred. Call work. Sign papers. One step, one breath, one moment at a time. Which would be the same way she would handle seeing Bruce again. 

Thankfully the editor of The Bludhaven Tribune was more friend than boss and would completely understand. Besides, if it came down to it, she had a couple of weeks of unused vacation time saved up. Dory had always made the trip to her–at least for the past three years. She had understood the need to stay away from Gotham and the man who had broken y/n’s heart. So her vacation days were rarely used. 

Within an hour, y/n’s bags were packed and a fresh cup of coffee was waiting in the cupholder of Alfred’s car. The cold air was a shock to her overloaded system. Her chest was too tight, her breathing labored. She couldn’t tell what was hurting worse–the grief for her grandmother or the anxiety of seeing Bruce again. 

A silly, hopeless crush, he’d said three years ago. 

A silly, hopeless crush that still hadn’t gone away, despite the fact that he’d effectively ground her heart to dust beneath his heel with the words. 

A few minutes into the drive, another question bubbled to the surface. “Alfred…” she began, unsure how to find the bravery to ask. “Did she suffer? Did they suffer?” Because, as many times as her mother had broken her heart, she was still her mother. 

Alfred was quiet so long that she feared the worst. But then, finally, “I don’t believe so, no. Your mother was driving. Dory was the passenger, where the impact was. And before you ask, your mother was clean.” 

She did flinch this time.

It had been her first thought. She was glad of the answer though, twisted as it sounded. 

She knew exactly why they were driving together. Because she used to take her grandmother to her appointments, but after leaving Gotham three years ago…it became harder and harder to make the time in the middle of the week. 

And, surprisingly, y/n’s mother had stepped in. She wanted to make amends, her grandmother had told her. She’d scoffed at that, but couldn’t deny the relief that had washed over her. She loved her grandmother, but having to pick her up from Wayne Tower was a particular kind of torture. The place held too many memories, both good and bad, now so inextricably linked that the pain bled into the happier memories. 

“How long has it been since you’ve been back?” Alfred asked quietly, as if reading her mind. 

Her hands knotted in her lap. “In Gotham or…?” She let the rest of the question hang in the air. Or at Wayne Tower? Or in Bruce Wayne’s presence? Because all three had slightly different answers. 

Alfred gave her a look before turning his attention back to the road. 

Y/n sighed softly. “Three years, give or take a few weeks.” 

“You never came inside when picking up Dory?” 

“No.” Her heart clenched with pain. “That’s why my mother…” 

Alfred nodded in understanding. “Maybe this can be…a new beginning,” he finally said. “Things are different. I think he needs you more than either of you realize.” 

No need to ask who he was. She wanted to roll her eyes, but Alfred meant well. Of course he wanted her and Bruce to make up, to go back to the way things were. 

He didn’t know how thoroughly Bruce Wayne broke her heart. 

“Then Bruce can apologize.” She crossed her arms. Because, as much as she still loved him, Bruce had been in the wrong, not her. It had taken him a long time to turn his anger on her, but he finally had…right after she had confessed her feelings for him. 

Y/n spent the rest of the drive in silence, the grief for her grandmother numbing her inside and out even as it warred with the anxiety gnawing at her gut. 

She thought about how it would feel to step into Wayne Tower again. How it would feel to step inside and not be greeted with a warm embrace from her grandmother. With her love. With her understanding. With her gentle manipulations to get her to help her with the housekeeping duties for free.

A few tears slipped out. God, she was gone. Y/n would never again hug her or speak to her or have her tell a story to help her fall asleep–something that happened even as an adult. Something she had done to help ease the heartbreak of three years ago.

She startled as a hand took hers. Alfred said nothing, merely squeezed. 

When she looked up, the city of Gotham was spread before her. She saw the neon lights from Gotham Square Garden near the city center, bright despite the early morning hour. Fog wound its way through the streets, a proper gloomy Gotham welcome to suit her mood. 

Though Bludhaven wasn’t far, it was much sunnier than the city of her birth. 

In the past year since the flood, Gotham became even gloomier. The streets were dirtier, darker, half the streetlights still broken. She remembered suddenly, vividly, the fear she’d felt upon hearing the news. She’d been called into work late at night last November. The office had been chaotic, frantic, Gotham’s nearest big city neighbor gearing up to help but also to tell the stories. 

Y/n is ashamed to admit that her first thought hadn’t been of her grandmother. 

It was of Bruce. 

Alfred, she had known, had been safe in the top floors of the hospital. She’d returned from a visit only the day before. The panic from the news of the explosion, caused by a serial killer, had barely worn off. Even after seeing Alfred was okay with her own eyes, she felt a lingering panic. Even after Alfred told her that Bruce hadn’t been home at the time and was perfectly fine.  

But Bruce–and by extension Dory–were unknown variables in the flooding. Had they been evacuated? Had either been present for the new mayor’s event? Had they remained safe in the tower, partially blown up as it was? 

She had waited sixteen excruciating hours before finally hearing that they were safe. Unharmed, even. 

The air around y/n suddenly darkened. While she was daydreaming of the past, they had reached their destination. Alfred pulled into the private, street level parking garage reserved for family only. There were several other cars there, including Bruce’s favorite classic sports car. The sight of the car alone made her chest ache. 

Y/n stared vacantly at the car. She startled as Alfred suddenly opened her door with her bags in his hand.

She blinked slowly, dazed. 

It was too much to deal with. Losing her family, coming back to Gotham, back to Bruce…She wanted nothing more than to go back to bed. It felt like eons since the Alfred at her door woke her, though it was only a couple of hours at most. 

As she followed Alfred to the private elevator, she wondered if Bruce would avoid her. If he would hide from the uncomfortable as he so often did. Part of her hoped he did. Part of her hoped she could get through everything without seeing him. But that was stupid. He would be, at the very least, at the funerals. 

Another wave of grief nearly knocked her over. She had to bury the last bit of blood relations she had. Had. The past tense was another unavoidable wave threatening to drown her. Her mother and grandmother both only existed in the past now. 

Y/n suddenly realized that that was how Bruce had been feeling for two decades. The feeling of being utterly alone in the universe, no one but himself left with his family name, his family legacy. But his was worse, so much worse. She had, at least, had her family for twice as long as he had. And that counted for something. 

The elevator ride was long and slow. Or maybe that was grief and panic warping time until she had no idea if the ride had just started or was about to end. Despite getting almost seven hours of sleep from a rare early night, she was exhausted. Her limbs were made of lead, her eyes heavy, her brain begging to be switched off. 

The smell alone, the particular blend of dust and old paper, was enough to make her knees weak. Ten thousand memories flooded back all at once, so many of them that she couldn’t fixate on any single one. 

The doors slid open and Alfred stepped out with her bags. 

But she had to press a hand to the wall of the elevator to steady herself as a familiar deep voice rang out in the silence. “That was fast,” Bruce said. God, his voice. “Did she decide to stay until the last moment then?” 

Alfred didn’t answer, because y/n’s presence stepping from the elevator was enough. 

Her heart was somewhere in her throat, or maybe her knees. She couldn’t look at him. She couldn’t. She couldn’t bear to look at him and see the indifference he now felt for her. She couldn’t look at him and hold a thousand more memories. 

She couldn’t look at him and love him, knowing he didn’t feel the same. 

The silence was deafening and finally, finally, she tore her eyes from the floor and looked up. 

There was a rush in her ears as she beheld him for the first time in three years. His hands were shoved deep into the pockets of a pair of dark, well-worn jeans. His shirt was too big for him and his hair–his hair was longer. Her eyes skipped over him hungrily, noticing more and more differences in the person she used to know better than herself. 

He was taller, for one. She thought men stopped growing at twenty-five years old, or something like that. Or maybe it was the way he held himself, like he was more sure of his place in the world. And his shoulders were more broad, his arms more muscular. Bruce had all at once become…a man. Not that he hadn’t been a man three years before, but something about him was…more.

There were heavy bags beneath his eyes, like he hadn't slept. And, she supposed, if he was the one who had answered the call about her grandmother and mother, he likely hadn’t. 

She realized that they both had been staring at each other in silence. Alfred half-stepped out of the foyer like he couldn’t decide whether or not to give them privacy or stay to make sure they wouldn’t tear out each others’ throats. She wondered what Bruce had told him about their fight. Had it been the truth? Or had he played it close to the vest, like always? 

“Hi,” she finally said. Her mouth was dry and her voice cracked on the word. There was so much she wanted to say to him. Thank you and I’m sorry and I still love you even if you hate me were all warring to be first. 

“Hi,” he said back. His blue eyes pinned her to the spot. They seemed bluer, or maybe she had forgotten the exact shade of them. She wanted to close her eyes and sink into the familiar comfort of him, but those days were far gone. Three years gone. 

“I–” She wasn’t sure what words would come out but the need to fill the silence was too great. 

He beat her to it. “I’m so sorry,” he said. She knew he meant about her family and not about three years before. She knew it in the way she knew most things about him, born of the sheer amount of time they spent together throughout their lives. Even with three years separating their last interaction, she could still read him. Maybe not as well as she used to but still well enough. 

She couldn’t think of a single thing to say. She couldn’t say It’s okay, because it wasn’t. Or, I missed you, even though she did. Or even Thank you, because he hadn’t done anything other than offer to pay for the funerals. 

“Your old room is ready,” Bruce said and his eyes flickered away. Was he so tired of her already? 

I don’t have time for you and your silly, useless crush. The words seemed to echo in the air. Was he able to hear them too? 

“Who–” 

“She kept it ready for you,” Bruce said and his voice softened, easing the blow. 

A stray tear escaped.

Of course she had. Y/n’s grandmother was nothing if not optimistic. 

She had to take a breath and close her eyes against the wash of pain. Dory had kept her room ready for her, even knowing that Bruce Wayne broke her heart, even knowing she wouldn’t step foot inside Wayne Tower again unless absolutely necessary. 

As always, y/n’s grandmother had ensured that she always had a place to come home to. You’ll always have a home with me, she had said the day y/n left Gotham. 

She stepped away, eyes still closed, feet knowing the way by heart. When she opened them, she saw Bruce’s hand fall, as if he had reached out, perhaps to comfort her. 

The pain of that missing touch was too much. 

She simply nodded once. 

And then she fled. 

Her childhood bedroom was exactly as she had left it three years ago, free of dust, the linens on the bed so fresh she could still smell the detergent. 

She threw herself onto the bed and finally let herself cry. 

Next Chapter

taglist:

@ktficworld

[ohwaitimthewriter]

Would you be open to writing another pota Caesar x human!reader? whatever you’re comfortable with, love your blog! :)

Hi, hi 👋🏻

Thank you so much for asking it and I'm also sorry it took me a hundred of years to answer your request!

But I got a little something and I hope you'll enjoy it! I might write a bit more about it, I don't know yet, but here we go!

Enjoy your reading!

Title: Under one sky

Pairing: (slightly implied) Caesar x human!reader

Warning: the kind of fluff which holds some melancholia.

Summarize: You long for a friend who looks at the same sky above you without knowing it

Words: 596 (a small one!)

Planet of the apes Masterlist.

It was a peaceful night. One of those rare nights when only the ambient sound of fireflies would stroke your ears in a restful lullaby. The little fire you'd lit to warm your body had long since gone out, but your mind had never wanted to sink into the arms of Morpheus. With your gaze glued to the glittering black immensity you could see between the shadows of the highest branches, you silently counted the stars.

It had been perhaps an hour or two since you'd given up trying to sleep, your head full of images of a past you'd been trying hard to reclaim. A past that had been snatched away from you overnight, and which had only collapsed, like a small stone triggering an avalanche.

You'd never been able to forget him, and ever since the day he'd never come to join you in the wooden shack at the back of your garden, he'd left a void embedded in the space where the childlike heart you'd once been was supposed to be. And you'd grown up with this space to be taken and never given to anyone else, yet how could you ever replace him? The only friend who had turned your dreary days into a ray of sunshine and thanks to whom you could now claim to have had a happy childhood.

You kept dragging that damaged heart of yours around with the sole certainty that you were living under the same starry sky as he was. It was perhaps the only thing that kept you looking for him, despite everything, despite the virus, despite the tiny chance of finding him in this forest, sharing the same sky became a warm comfort that stitched the ripples of your torn heart.

And you pictured him, somewhere, perhaps looking up at that same sky, wondering if he ever missed you, as much as you missed him, without knowing that Caesar was looking up at this very same sky, the same question venturing into the meanders of his thoughts. Thoughts preoccupied with the safety of his own people. A security he would have liked to be able to grant you, if only he'd been able to return to that little wooden hut. In that place where you had first found him in his younger days, when all he wanted was to find something to play with and amuse his childish heart.

Caesar wondered what had become of you. Had you survived? Perhaps he'd rather not answer that question, when the answer was surely no, as the virus was taking humanity in its wake. He gazed up at the cloudless black sky, where multitudes of stars shone freely, reminding him that today, apes were also free to build their lives in this part of the forest. The twinkling white stars watched over their brothers and sisters with black and brown fur as they evolved under their distant gazes.

Then, a star, brighter and stronger than the others, caught Caesar's eyes, and in a silent agreement, he wished to see it watch over you, wherever you were, since he could no longer do it himself. Were you thinking of him as much as he was thinking of you? Despite his constant worries, that face of the child you used to be always managed to find its way to him, and in front of that star, he hoped that the version of you he didn't know could see it too. And if you could, he hoped you'd know he was the one who'd sent it to watch over you.

[jewish-vents]

Goyim are wearing on my last nerve. I get the Mr. Rogers "look for the helpers" quote thrown at me regularly, people go "oh just don't watch/read/listen to them" when I mention someone being antisemitic, and act as if Jewish people who are upset are at fault for looking at something we knew would make us upset. And that's just not how this works.

I have never gone out of my way to look at something that makes me upset once in my entire life. I block people and stop using sites that upset me. I installed a Firefox extension to help filter content. I unsubscribed from every YouTuber that I used to watch who was antisemitic, installed an add-on to make them never come up in my feed, and installed an add-on to hide comments underneath videos from me. I've had to drop all my friends. I don't do anything to be visibly Jewish. I avoid any political content anywhere I see it. I have so, so many words filtered on multiple sites.

And the stuff that's allegedly my responsibility to just not watch/read/etc finds me anyway.

Try to watch YouTube? Antisemitism. Try to look at some fanart? Antisemitism. Watch the news? There it is. Searching for a D&D group? It pops up yet again. Look for some Animal Crossing design codes? Once more, with feeling. Walk to the dining hall from my dorm? Right there, in my face, yelling full volume. Go to class? The professors will make it a routine feature of lectures. Walk to the grocery store and back to get food so you can avoid the encampment? The cashiers are chatting about (((the Jews))). Search for something on Etsy for your mom's birthday? It's in the search results. Open up a website you go to for recipes because you want to cook until you feel less stressed? "Top 10 Recipes Stolen By Israelis". Buy a book at the used bookstore to read to take your mind off of things? An entire display is all anti-Israel books, right there to greet you when you walk in. Go to the thrift store to donate things you made or repaired? Your reward for this good deed is a sign in the window with the 'from the mountains to the sea' quote. Go home for a weekend to hang out with your family and naively think in a little town you wouldn't encounter antisemitism? Right-wing people drunk on conspiracy theories talk about their baseless beliefs right on the street where you can hear it through the windows.

There's this thing in psychology called DARVO. Deny, attack, reverse victim and offender. And it perfectly sums up the "nice" goyim's responses. The world isn't the offender, it's you. You're not being hurt, you're the one weighing everyone down with their negativity. They never address the root issue, that being that antisemitism is rampant, they just divert their attention onto something else, something pleasant to think about.

The problem with DARVO, like other abuser tactics, is that if you use it too often, it stops being effective. 11 months in, it's over the threshold. I am no longer going to feel guilty for noticing things are messed up.

If you don't want me to notice it, then change it. The easiest way to get people to stop complaining about the state of the world is to make it even marginally less bad, just enough we can convince ourselves there's hope for the future. But goyim can't do that, because that would take effort and involve admitting they have maybe done a single thing wrong in their lives. And their whole self-confidence rests upon the lie that is abdicating themselves from responsibility for their own actions.

I used to be angry at them. Now I'm annoyed at myself for ever expecting better. Genuinely, I do not know why I ever thought they were capable of being any better than they are now. There was nothing going on to prove to me that they had the capacity to be decent to other people when it wouldn't get them public praise, and most goyim are motivated entirely by extrinsic validation from their peers.

There is no anger left. There's just disappointment. And it's not even disappointment in them, because this is the best that they can do.

.

[2d-reality]

Little Things (The Wrathful Middle Child)

characters: Satan, GN!MC navigation: Lucifer | Mammon | Levi | Satan | Asmo | Beel | Belphie content/warnings: little things you do for the brothers, out of love. fluff. established relationship (implied you are dating all seven brothers equally with the exception of mammon whom i love more) word count: 724 notes: Each brother has their own part, linked above. I am still my own editor and I loathe editing, so please forgive any mistakes!

The first time you fell asleep in Satan’s company, he nearly combusted.

It was also the first time you’d slept anywhere since coming to the Devildom, aside from the relative safety of your own room. The two of you were curled up on opposite loveseats in the library, in front of the crackling fireplace. Satan, ever hyper-vigilant of his surroundings, was pulled from his book when his subconscious alerted him that something had changed. It took a moment to realize the shuffling of pages from your own novel had gone silent, and he turned his head to see you, book abandoned in your lap, head slumped onto your shoulder against the arm of your couch, eyes closed. The slow, even rise and fall of your chest had caused your bookmark to flutter to the floor, and a lock of your hair had fallen over your eyes.

Satan was floored. The transition to living amongst demons had obviously been taxing for you, and even though you were settling in better than anyone could have expected, he was sure he was the last person you would feel safe enough around to fall asleep. He was hyper aware of his hair-trigger temper, and even if he had a well-worn handle on his emotions, you were only human, and so fragile. He spent a few minutes spinning around in his head, his head warring over the fear that you had been so exhausted that you’d passed out without knowing it, and honor at the thought you did know, and trusted him.

He stood as quietly as he could, and knelt beside you. Picking up your discarded bookmark with one hand, he lifted your book gently from where it had fallen from your hands, fitted the bookmark in the pages, and set the book on the table beside the couch. When this didn’t wake you, his hopelessly romantic heart made him lift his hand to your face and brush the hair from your forehead. He let himself watch you for a moment, the firelight dancing over your peaceful features, and then stood, fetching a throw blanket from the other end of your couch. Heart racing, he settled it over you. You stirred, and he froze, but you only moved your head to rest more comfortably against the couch cushion, and sighed softly.

Satan didn’t realize he had been holding his breath until it escaped his mouth in a stuttered sigh. You had no idea what you did to him, and you hadn’t even really done anything. He retreated to his own loveseat and attempted to go back to his book, but he couldn’t make it through more than a few pages at a time before his gaze drifted back to you.

He managed to school himself into appearing unbothered when you finally woke, but your cute, bleary expression as you sat up and stretched, not unlike a contented cat, seriously tested his resolve.

That single occasion had seemingly opened the floodgates. In the weeks following, you joined him more and more often in the library, and more and more often you would fall asleep at some point, and the longer it went on, the more he took pride in the fact that you trusted him to watch over you while you rested in this house full of rowdy demons.

Now, you don’t wait until you have the excuse of joining him by chance in the library. You curl up next to him as he studies, in the house, or RAD’s libraries, or even lounging in his own bedroom. You rest your head on his shoulder, or in his lap, and tell him you sleep the best when you have him around. He’s calming, you say. Most demons would laugh in the face of anyone who told them that Satan, the Avatar of Wrath, whose soul-withering temper was only thinly veiled by a plastic smile, had anything even remotely close to a calming aura. But you, his favorite puzzle, always seek him out when you need a breather from the shenanigans of his brothers.

Satan has never been a haven for anyone before, and he knows he is not exactly a well of peace, but he’s so smitten with you and your trust in him, he can’t help but be as soft with you as you are with him.

[jooeyoo]

Full parts: Until death do us part

Pairing: Douma x femReader

Tags: mentions of blood, self mutilation, manipulation, kidnapping, obsession, gore, douma himself bffr.

Summary: He kidnaps you after finding you wounded, and keeps you around for his own amusement-until you can’t take it anymore.

“I told you, you weren’t going to leave. Ever”  

Her breath hitched as she ran through the ruins of a town she once called home. It was unrecognizable, a distant memory that would still escape her as she grew older, a reminder not all things last. A reminder of life’s misery. The hem of her kimono ripped as she ran as fast as she could, her legs beginning to sore, her heartbeat irregular, the tears in her eyes clouding her vision through the tall ivory flames into the night sky. The heat of the air radiated onto every living creature, the smoke was intoxicating and caused her to suddenly stop as she grew victim to a coughing fit. Her lashes flickered,  and shot wide at the sight of the blood all over her hands, and down her chest. That’s right...I had been..impaled

Her knees grew weak as she fell to the hard ground, the pain coming back to her now as she held onto the gaping wound. She spat as a pool of blood leaking out from the depths of her gut- she stared in horror. I’m going to die...I’m going to die in this god forsaken place

Her vision began to falter once more, blurred by the smoke and the antagonising feeling of pain in her stomach. Fatigue slowly began to creep onto her body, as the unavoidable darkness of the void crept into her vision of sight. Her limbs no longer felt her own.

All dreams and aspirations she had, gone

All the memories, pain, and happiness she had endured, had been reducing to nothing- to ash in just mere hours.

Everyone she knew..who had even survived..?

Did it really matter, she was going to die herself. She thought she was at peace with the idea of death, at peace with the idea that the world is never ending, never stopping, constantly evolving yet she couldn’t deny the pit that formed in her stomach. It was so much more uncomfortable than the pain she had now grown accustomed to. Her eyes shot back open, the pupils much more dilated- they shook at the very idea of dying. Where would she go? Would a God punish her for her sins, for her mistakes? Or embrace her, and tell her she did well? Or was there nothing at all, a void devoid of any joy or misery- simply nothingness. A place where no gods, or angels roamed- but only the darkness. Darkness

Her head snapped back behind her. The city had grown quiet, no screaming or yelling could be heard- no clanking of swords. Had the fight ended? Had those people succeeded in killing that monster? Or had it..won?

The question itself made her tremble with terror, she forced herself to her feet. She wouldn’t die like this- she wouldn’t allow it. But regardless of what she wanted, within mere moments of standing- she fell back down to her knees. Another pool of blood escaped her mouth, staining her lips.

I am going to die here

Her vision began to blur, as her head hit the ground.

At-least, I’d die with dignity

Her vision became black, her mind no longer conscious.

“Oh,..oh my” A cheerful tone crept up behind the girls unconscious body. The man’s looming presence shadowed over her, he held a human leg in one of his hands- his mouth stained with blood.

“It seems a lost little lamb escaped from the hoard..” The man tutted, a wide grin on his face that was supposed to mirror a friendly smile. “Though.” His voice suddenly became cold, blank, devoid of any emotion. He let the leg fall to the floor, with a thud. He leaned down to the girl, inspecting her face, and the wound in her stomach. “You’re almost dead.” The smile on his face, had evaporated within seconds- as did his cheerful tone. He tilted his head to the side, pondering.

“How did you..run all the way out here..with a wound like that..and with a small, weak..body like that..” The man slowly pulled a strand of hair away from the girls face, revealing his long nails.  “How sad..for a girl like you to slowly die like this...such a beautiful face gone to waste as well! How despicable of my comrades!” He hummed with glee, that friendly face returning to the surface. Oh, how he could just eat her all up!

Though, he was full right now..but he couldn’t let her go to waste! Not such beauty, no! How cruel he’d be to let such a girl die in such a way, he’d only allow her to be devoured by him, savoured him, saved by him!

What to do? He tapped his head before a teethy grin emerged.

What would be so wrong, about a souvenir?

YN awoke with a gaping feeling in her stomach, as she looked down- she was met with bandages that had been carefully placed. Her mind was still foggy, her vision barely stable. Her throat felt dry, and sore. If she had died, this was certainly no better. She quickly stood to her feet, to inspect her new surroundings.

“Hello..?” She noticed she was no longer in the entertainment district but a room devoid of any actual furniture, apart from the futon she had awoken on,

- but decorated with various artworks of locus’s.

“Oh, you poor thing.” She jumped at the sudden voice that had appeared behind her.

A voice ridden with amicability and cheerfulness but there was also a hint of pity. As she turned, she felt her eyes grow wider as a enormous glooming presence struck her in very core. She was met with a man, who towered over her, with eyes like rainbows and platinum blonde hair. His hand slowly reached her shoulder, purple nails slightly digging into her shoulder- his grip was firm, but not painful- but it was freezing cold. It sent shivers down her spine.

“You awoke so quickly! I expected you to be out for longer..”

His smile grew wider as it hit her.

“..You’re..you’re a demon!” Fear struck her core, as she took a step back away from him, trying to balance her footing.

“Oh dear! You caught me!” Before she could even reply, a frightening whiff of wind passed her, as he stood now behind her once again. His body still, pressed against hers, his head peered down into the crane of her neck. “Afraid? That I’ll gobble you up? Or maybe I’ll toy with your body first! Tear it limb..from limb..” The amicability in his voice remained, yet his eyes had grown wider and more erratic. His smile seemed more creepy now, than it did friendly. YN stood still, paralysed like a deer looking into headlights, into death. Her body was frozen to the core until a pair of sharp teeth grazed just the surface of her neck which caused her to suddenly turn around.

“Why haven’t you..?”

The man paused for a moment, pondering in thought. His smile never faded.

“It’s better to savour ones food, don’t you think so? To relinquish one’s desire to simply savour it more..to appreciate the beauty in all things living, first.” He hummed.

An innate sense of danger filled her to her core

He’s a madman

“The beauty..of all thing’s living..? You mean you’re just going to toy with me until you’ve had your fun? You’re sick!” She spat out- until she realised the words she said, her eyes briefly widening in shock.

The demon stood there, for a moment he felt like laughing. “I didn’t think you’d be so resilient.. you..seemed so weak and frale! Oh how cute! I must have hit the jackpot!” His charismatic and cheerful aura beamed throughout the room clashing with YN’s who beamed of disgust.

“You mean to say..you’re not going to kill me..?” Her voice grew meek, quiet, confused, disgusted.

“Oh not yet! Anymore, atleast! You seem fun! I’m so bored these days, you see.” His voice peered to the side, as he looked her up and down causing her to take another step back. In retort, a small laugh escaped his mouth as he covered his smile with his hand.

“You seem to be in so much shock! Aren’t you relieved?”

“I’d rather kill myself now, then to be your last meal!” She screamed back at him, eyeing the door but before she could even take a step towards it- he had appeared before her.

“Why don’t we start over..?” He pretended to be upset, by her words- yet his eyes did not mirror the sentiment.

“My name is Dōma! What’s yours?” He beamed, as if her answer would be the most interesting thing he’d ever hear. Though, a silence grew beyond the two. Their eyes peering into one another.  Dōma’s beamed with anticipation yet there was this..odd feeling to them..

Was it the colour of his eyes?

YN’s eyes were fierce, the fear long hidden within her now- as she had always been taught to do.

“It’s almost as if you’re trying to kill me with that look!

“I am.”

“..they say not to bite the hand that feeds you..I was the one to save you from that horrible wound” His voice grew cold, almost devoid of emotion.

“You shouldn’t have.” YN mirrored his tone.

“You shouldn’t say such things! You should appreciate life! Afterall, that’s all humans have..you all..inevitably die..” He closed the distance between the two, peering into her eyes, observing.

“I’d have preferred to live the miserable life I had lived then and dying from that horrible wound, than living within your presence to only be devoured by you.” She spat at him, though she couldn’t help but swallow the pool of saliva growing in her throat. No matter how hard she tried, his sheer aura sent shivers down her spine.

“A miserable life? You found no joy in your life..? How unfortunate” He mirrored a tone of pity

How strange he is

“Humans really are..pathetic things...aren’t they?” His face became completely devoid of any trace of emotion, she was taken aback by the expressionless look in his eye. As if she was peering into darkness itself.

“What…?”

“To understand the beauty of all things living, you must first peer into the darkness.. It’s there to help us understand it. Would life be beautiful if we never knew what sorrow and misery felt like?”

His face quickly changed back to his signature smile, he rested a hand on her head.

“Is this what you tell yourself as you indulge yourself in massacring people?”

She was taken aback by his laugh

“Oh, dear. I simply save them from a life they can no longer see the beauty in! Simply pathetic beings! Cant see what’s further than what’s in front of them”

“And you believe, you’re saving me from a life I ‘No longer see the beauty in’..? What about what I would like?” YN removed herself from his grasp.

His eyes beamed, curious. “What is it?”

“To leave, if you’re not going to kill me- I’m not staying.” She tried to usher him out of the way, by swatting her hand at him but he simply caught her wrist and pulled it back- which caused her to fall into his chest. His other hand quickly grasped her waist, firmly and sharply.

“I didn’t say you could leave”

Her eyes grew wider, peering into the redness of his shirt.

I can’t leave..?

My last moments are going to be toyed with by a demon that wears the face of a man

How ironic

In truth, YN had been one of the many young girls who worked in the entertainment district; having met a variety of men that left all types of memories that disgusted her to her core. This was not dying with dignity, but humiliation. Her mind froze for a moment, trying to find an ounce of something to hit the demon back with but she fell to silence. Perhaps if she bored him to death, he would kill her. Yet he did nothing, and simply stood there. Listening to her heartbeat that accelerated every growing moment- oh, how he wondered how that felt

To be so afraid, you freeze and your heart begins to beat out of your chest

Even if she tried to bore him to death, he’d find something to find interest in- she was eccentric! She was the opposite of what he thought her to be! How couldn’t he not want to know more?

Suddenly,  Dōma reached out to YN’s chin, forcing her to look up at him.

“How about a game?”

“A game?”

“Stay here, until you die of old age!”

Where..was here?

“It’s not like you have anything else, anyone else..your town, gone- along with any familiars”

Her eyes widened, she had failed to realise the gravity of her situation the previous night- everything..was in flames

Her hand subconsciously touched her wound

His hand moved to the side of her cheek, caressing the skin.

“Besides, what life is it serving men?” He whispered, the smile never faltering.

“..So..serve a demon instead..” She scoffed

“No, you’d have free will.” He beamed with amusement

“At paradise faith!”

“How is this a game..you’re asking me to..live out my life..here..? Why.” She stared at him, with confusion

“Because you intrigue me; it’s not often I’m met with a human who knows what I am, who isn’t begging for mercy” His voice became a chilling cold tone.

“If I started, would you?" She didn't need to say more, for him to understand the question.

He didn’t, he never did no matter how much she begged. Months passed, and she was met with laughs, snorts, rolling of the eyes- no matter how much she cried and begged for him to just simply get it over with. He never did. During her ‘fits’ as he liked to call them, he’d simply sit down, rest his elbow on a surface with his head on his palm. His eyes always beamed with curiosity, excitement as she screamed, and tears ran down her face. As if this was a play for him to enjoy. Then he’d hold her shaking body and tell her everything would be okay, as if he wasn’t the problem. She tried to steal one of his golden fan’s once, to maybe slice her throat with it. She was met with a hand around her throat- and nothing more. She tried to insult him, hurt his pride, his weird cult- nothing worked. He’d dismiss her like a child having a fit. He’d often converse with her, force her to speak her mind on whatever subject he had chosen- which is why he found her intriguing. He was so sure, when she was lost in thought in his questions that she’d forget what he was, where she was- which was her beauty; her unique perspective of the world, of emotions. He slowly started to think he understood them, although devoid of them. He was so sure, she would be the key to helping him understand such a complex tool- he didn’t want her to leave his side.

Had it become obsession?

The way he would dismiss his followers, if she so beckoned- how he found no joy in his meals any more apart from her crude reactions to the blood. How he thought of her every waking moment of the day. How he pondered on her opinions, thought them over- found the beauty in her speech. She wouldn’t be salvaged forever if he devoured her, because her beauty was in her liveness, in what she’s lived, how she lives and how she speaks. He simply and utterly didn’t want to do it. He only ever wanted to feel her warm breath against his ice cold skin. That made him feel alive. If only she ever allowed him to show her how much he truly did appreciate her; if she’d devote herself to him entirely. But she just wouldn’t, and it captivated him more- she did not see him as a messenger of God. But he saw her as a sign from something above, although he knew, nothing was there. He would devote himself to her, if she allowed it. He sought her touch, yet her hate grew by the time and he was so oblivious to it. Why cant she love me?

She inspired him to be more, he didn’t want to revel in the slaughter anymore, he didn’t feel alive anymore in the cruelty- but his heart beat when she spoke. He had never listened so attentively to someone before, so closely. Was it love?

He’d need to ask her about that next

Dōma walked attentively down to YN’s room, curious as to what she might respond with. He was trying to formulate an idea in his head

How exciting

Until

He was absolutely stricken with horror as he opened the shoji, to be met with a gruesome sight.

Fresh blood stained the floods, as her body laid beside it. The blood quickly nauseated all of his other senses, the smell was so sweet to him.

“Oh, Oh dear”

She was still alive, but barely.

He approached her quickly, setting her head on his lap as he looked at what she had done to herself. A gaping wound in both of her wrists stared back at him- she had lost so, so much blood

Dōma’s heart skipped a beat, it only ever beat

..for her

And for what?

He stared at her, her eyes had shut, covered by her hair, her lips had grown pale and cold and the life within her skin slowly decreased. He could fear her heartbeat becoming slower, and her body becoming colder.

What an odd..sentiment

His hands would have shook, if he was capable of it.

He felt something, something alien to him but he couldn’t describe it no matter how hard he tried.

The second time..

Someone he endeared took their live

He wouldn’t allow this repetitive cycle to continue

A quick slash to his wrist caused a waterfall of blood to emerge- trickling down to her mouth.

He could only hope he would chose her.

__

Mere hours later, YN awoke in  Dōma’s chambers. An insatiable hunger in her stomach almost brought her to puking. She couldn’t remember what had happened.. her name..? What was it ..? Where was she..?

“YN! I’m so glad you’re okay!” She was met with a familiar set of rainbow coloured eyes, who seemed to be genuinely happy.

She groaned, bringing her hand to her head- feeling an annoying headache form- which is when she realised.

The length of which her nails had grown, much sharper, much more predatory.

She stared back at  Dōma, who watched attentively.

She suddenly remembered, all of the blood, all of the pain.

She suddenly jumped up from his futon, and pulled up the hems of the sleeves of her kimono- to reveal no cuts. The pit in her stomach grew even wider, but not from hunger- rage and hate.

She ran to the mirror, her kimono loosely falling down at the shoulders- as she stared back at a monster that was not herself. Her hair, had turned to such a white colour- and her eyes- predatory, those of a killer. She opened her mouth, to reveal the set of sharp canines that now housed her mouth. She gasped, before a large hand snaked itself around her waist.  Dōma’s head rested in the nook of her neck. YN screamed. “How could you do this to me! I never asked for this! You’re so selfish that even when I decided to take my own life, by my own hands, by my own meanings. You interfere like the parasite that you are!” Her screaming only grew louder but he did not reply, he did not react. He simply held her body, as she tried to fight him off- but even now as a Demon, she was still weaker. “You’re a horrible void sucking monster! Let me go!” Her screaming had turned to cries, the tears had ran down her face, staining her now pale complexion. She thought herself a horrid monster- yet  Dōma found her beauty to still be exquisite. Her knees threatened to fall down to the ground, he held her weak and limp body up as she scream cried into the air. He reached out to  turn her, to face him- he held her face in his hands.

His signature smile reappeared but his eyes grew more intensely and bright than they ever did before.

“I told you, you weren’t going to leave. Ever”  

part 2

Hate

It was such a complex emotion.

It was something a person felt at the very depth of their core, of their soul. But what is hate? If not accompanied by rage? And what is rage? If not accompanied by pain and sorrow? But pain and sorrow, couldn’t be felt without joy and joy couldn’t be felt without love.

All emotions, that the man that sat before her, was completely and utterly vacant of.

Dōma sat cross legged, his chin resting on his palm- as he always did. He sat there as if there was nothing wrong, as if he wasn’t covered in blood- as if she wasn’t either. As if, there weren’t various slashes and cuts in the fabric of his clothes, and likewise her.

What was hate, if there was no cruelty? No violence? No urge to kill them?

Would hate, not then be meaningless?

She would make him pay for what he did to her- even if he didn’t care, even if he didn’t flinch, even if he secretly liked the attention. It made her feel better, and that was enough- for now.

YN stood there, her hair had grown to an immense length and her complexion had only become paler. She resembled the devil that sat before her, now.

Her own divine punisher, how cruel. She certainly didn’t believe in a God now..

Her dress, a white colour to resemble her hair- a gift from the man she despised.

Riches wouldn’t buy her heart, she wasn’t sure she had one any more, but that only made her hate herself more; as each day passed- she became more like Dōma.

More cruel, more ravenous, more despicable.

Each time, she looked in the mirror- all she could see was the similar hair coloured that now nested in her roots, the similar void in her eyes and the similar porcelain complexion. But he adored it. He wouldn’t let her forget how beautiful he thought she was now, how they were the same now, how they’ll be together forever.

It took time, to brush her long hair, now. She’d sit in front of the mirror, tears prickling the corners of her eyes until he would appear out of the shadows. He’d snake his arm around her and take the brush. How she despised him so, yet the man was so arrogant and stubborn- he always did get his way.

“I..despise you” YN finally mustered out.

She was met with a snort.

“Do you?” Dōma’s head tilted to the side, his eyes for a brief moment became completely blank yet his tone remained all the while mockful.

How sad, it was- for such beautiful colours, to be so dull, she thought.

“More than anything, in this life and the next.” Her voice shook, tears threatened to fall, all this time spent screaming, crying, scratching and hitting him over and over again. All it was, was a constant reminder of life’s misery.

And every time, the cycle was the same.

She’d yell, she’d scream

He’d ignore her, laugh at her

She’d hit him and he would hit back

She would cry, he would pretend to care

And he never did forget, to remind her that she was his.

Suddenly Dōma stood, all injuries he had obtained had already vanished into thin air but the blood still stained the floor, as did all that time ago..the memory still engraved into his mind.

YN stared at the floor, as she heard his body slowly reach hers. He cupped her face in his hands, another reminder of how small she was, how weak, how irrelevant she was in the world.

“You really shouldn’t say such false things, hm?” He smiled, a monster hid beneath the mask.

“..The sight of you makes me sick” Her voice was quiet, almost a whisper.

Dōma stayed silent for a moment, before he spoke

“I saved you, how could you say such mean things..?” His voice grew colder, as did the sensation in his hands, but neither could feel such things any more.

“You wanted to die?” His face slowly approached YN’s ear, as he pulled the hair out of the way. His breath hitting her skin and his teeth making an appearance as he spoke.

“Did you want me to lay your rotting corpse in the courtyard? For all to see? How pitiful you are?”

His voice, was devoid of anything at all. This was the afterlife, accompanied with darkness itself, the void itself- devoid of anything.

“It was so disappointing, that someone as intelligent like you..would believe there’s anything after this cruel life..” His eyes met hers.

“I don’t. But anywhere else is better if you’re not there.” She spat back at him, the hate as bright as ever in her eyes.

“Don’t say such things..YN” He masked a look of sadness

“I do enjoy how you always keep me on my feet, but would it kill you to smile?” He turned his head to the side, wrapping a hand around the crane of her neck and the other on her cheek. He treated her like a child, and to him, she probably was. YN approached him, their bodies against each other. She stared into those dull eyes of his, no matter how hard he tried- she would see past his fonts and his masks. She leaned up to him, leaving mere centimetres between the pairs lips- his eyes never faltered, never blinked and neither did hers. Yet his heart beat, and hers did not.

“I’ll smile when the sun fucking burns you”

Dōma giggled, his grasp tightening. “Oh, how romantic” He cheerfully smiled

“but”

“I’ve grown tired of this game, YN” She yelped as his hand rapidly met her jugular instead- squeezing it violently. He would pop her head out of her socket, if he so desired- but where’s the fun?

“You scream, and you kick- When will you love me?” He whispered, his gaze never leaving her eyes.

“Could you ever? I’ve began to wonder..”

“You once said, you’d love someone who’d devote themselves to you, and who understood you beyond compare..but you don’t love me, you never could- can you?” His grip tightened, the tears now began to fall. He wasn’t going to kill her, she knew. He would torture her before he killed her, he would make her life worse than it is- just as a reminder of what he is and who is. To remind her of her place. But it wasn’t out of bad volition- he’d care for her afterwards, like he always did when he went too far. When he showed her who truly was stronger, that he could stop her fits within seconds if he wanted to- but he didn’t- because he wanted to please her! Make her feel better! Isn’t that what you do in a relationship? They were in a relationship, after all. The fact she wouldn’t let him near her, didn’t bother him at all! After all, sex was a mundane activity, he was devoid of anything- he could only fantasize about the feeling that lust gives you, but he could never truly ever actually feel it. He could only mirror it, copy, mimic- at core, he was nothing at all.

Even the devil weeps, but he didn’t.

“I gave you a chance at life...to be what you want, who you want to be- to not serve men! I only asked of you to remain at my side. Yet the months go by, and..you continue this facade of hate.”

“Have I not been good? Have I not listened to your every wish since? I’ve tried to make it up to you, YN.”

All she could do was stare, in shock? In offence at his words? But the way he spoke, and the words he chose always did have impact- he was taught the art of speech from the youngest age- he met all kinds of people, all kinds of stories who sought the words of a God- and oh, did he provide.

Deep inside her heart, she couldn’t help but rethink her actions. Had she been cruel? Too cruel? He always did try. Was that not enough? And deep down, she did know- all she had was him.

Living a normal life now, with a husband and children was impossible, physically impossible.

Living anywhere else, a demon slayer would certainly catch whiff of her- she didn’t know how to live the life of prey, and predator. But Dōma, he had lived for years- he understood this life.

He understood the brutality of it all.

A second chance at life? Yet all she had done was scream and cry and reject it entirely

Had it truly been her fault, all along?

“You know, all you have is me- and it’s all you need.

I would give you the world, if you sought it- I would shape it to your liking, it would be your world. All you have to do..is one small..little thing.”

She felt weak, mentally and physically. Her mind no longer the vast wonders and thoughts she used to have, but blank like a puppet. His eyes almost seemed hypnotic now, and his smile..that devilish smile

And that confirmation, that reminder

That she did in fact, only have him- was enough to break her.

“One small..little thing?”

She repeated, almost robotic, the tears in her eyes still formed and they still poured down her face.

He hummed In response, as he approached her ear once again. His body leaned down to her level

“To love me..as I love you.”

His voice was almost angelic, yet any peering eyes would know it was a devil’s gamble.

A deal with the devil, rather. A deal with the most despicable of them all, but what other choice?

Behead herself, or walk into the sun? Did she have the willpower for that again? To know she would die for good? Did she really want to cease to exist? Who would remember her?

Dōma?

‘As I love you’

The words meant nothing to her, she knew they were false. He wasn’t capable of love, he admitted to her he felt utterly nothing. How wrong, she would be if she knew the truth of it all.

Of course, this wasn’t love, as anyone would describe it. But it was love, in some shape or form. If your heat beat, in excitement for someone- did it not mean something? When it would never beat at all?

“Devote yourself to me, as I’ve devoted myself to you, how romantic it’d be no?

If we both helped saving those poor innocent souls..”

He meant reviling in slaughter.

“You’d be my wife, at my side. All would envy you, as your beauty knows no bounds. No harm would ever come to you, you’d do as please. The world would be yours, you just have to..love me”

His words were like programming.

Perhaps this was his plan all along, to break her into two, to make her a doll devoid of anything at all. To suck the innocence out of her heart and mind- create a monster equal to him.

She wondered, if her life would be better. If she simply did, just say she loved him. Perhaps the hate would dissipate, perhaps he’d treat her better. Perhaps she wouldn’t be a toy any more, to play with and break apart at his will. A familiar pit in her stomach grew, fear. Fear of the unknown

Perhaps he wouldn’t keep her here, against her will- but was it even against her will any more? She had many opportunities to leave, forever. Yet she never did. Because she always knew, she only had him. What life, if bound by solitude?

But what life, if bound by the devils grasp?

That was the devils gamble

One hell or the other.

His eyes peered into hers, tilting her chin up with his index finger- her eyes slowly lifting to meet his gaze.

He was awaiting her answer, she knew. And she knew deep down, what her choice was. The only choice she ever had.

“Okay..” Was all she could muster out, a weak simple word.

“Okay, what?” There was that, absence of emotion once again.

“I…”

His smile, retuned though it took much more of a sinister look to it.

“will..love you..” A tear rolled down her face,  Dōma simply rubbed it into her skin.

“Until death do us part..” He hummed, with excitement.

What was hate, without love?

It would be meaningless.

Dōma placed a kiss on YN’s head, relishing the contact.

She knows she’s made a mistake. But, it doesn’t take that much to break someone apart, and put them back together to your liking. Her words never meant anything to him, her screaming and crying was simply background sound. A deal with the devil to even grasp a fraction of solitude- she could only envy his followers, a sweet release of death.

But she was so afraid of it. Her body felt utterly weak, as if it no longer belonged to her.  Dōma instantly took notice.

“You poor thing, let’s have you rest hm?” He gently guided her to lay down, her head on his lap. He hummed and stroked it. In a moment like this,  she would have thought him to be a kind man- as he desperately tries to make her believe, but she knew better. She had seen him, covered in blood that was alien to him and corpses surrounding him like trophies, as he feasted. All the smell, had attracted a lower demon, who had tried to start a turf war over her meal- Dōma had quickly ended the altercation, with a new head to gift Gyokko; as he told her.

Oh

She suddenly peered her eyes open, to remember the state she was in, covered in blood.

It had even stained her hair, she looked up to Dōma who was already looking at her- to be met with a familiar sight. Even now, he always reminded her of herself as his hair had taken the same gruesome look as well. “Tell me, what are you thinking?” He asked, gently- his smile warm though it was only a facade. “I can’t stand having your blood on me like this” She spoke quietly yet the disgust in her words remained. She slowly got up from his lap, feeling obviously groggy. “Oh dear! Aren’t husbands and wives supposed to share their bodily fluids?” He raised a finger up in question, but he was only teasing- he knew better. And her face only grew more disgusted at both the statement and the sentiment of ‘husband and wife’.

We aren’t even married.

“I’m going to bathe.”  She changed the subject yet before she could completely slip out of Dōma’s grasp, he grabbed onto her wrist. “Oh, but I’d like to come.” He smiled, innocently- but it wasn’t an innocent smile at all. In truth, YN wouldn’t have cared. Many before have seen her naked body,  Dōma has probably spied on her before, she didn’t care- yet she knew where this was going. He wanted to ‘seal the deal’. Even though, he had no pleasure in the activity, he wanted her to be pleased with his capacities to pleasure, he couldn’t have her looking for another demon now, could he? “I’d like some time to myself, Dōma” She explained, with a gentle voice- she would simply match his facade. The hate would, one day dissipate, wouldn’t it? Had he eternally punished her? Or was he her saving grace? She was at an internal fight.

“Oh, but you’re so tired! That was some fight!” He knew no bounds, so she accepted.

As he stood, his head once again met the crook of her neck, where his teeth lightly grazed the surface. “You know,” He paused. His breath hitting her skin.

“I really think..I do love you.”

It wasn’t love, it never will be.

final part

"“I would feed my heart to you, if you just asked, my love.”"

The thunder crackled throughout the black clouds and ashen sky, a mirky smell of humidity to accompany it. Every animal had already fled back to it’s designated den, and every little critter had hidden behind various rocks stones and trees. They all hid for a reason, they all hid from something.

That was mother nature, that was the way of life.

YN sat on the makeshift stone bench, watching the clouds get darker and angrier. How she understood those clouds all too well. There was always a sensation of peace, and calmness before a storm rolled in- she had sat all afternoon observing it. Yet, even through that serenity, there’s a slight whiff of something sinister. It’s hard to catch it, not all can sense it. But it’s there, lurking and forming. How it mirrored her heart so. She had became herself again, observant and thoughtful, curious and artistic. How it pleased the devil she housed with. He was so content, that she regained her beauty, her liveness- but especially that her love for him did not falter.

Though, even now she wondered if she truly loved him with all her heart, or if it was fear- fear of solitude, of death.

So, she chose to love him. In some shape of form, touching somebody’s body in the name of love, is still love. Doing favours and tasks, conversing and bathing- it was enough for him. After all, the only thing that mattered to him, was the conversing. She didn’t lose her humanity, tears would still prickle her eyes as she ate her meals- Dōma would simply laugh and tease her. But he wanted to understand, and she helped him. She helped him understand emotions he couldn’t fathom to comprehend. But one still escaped her, explaining love. She had tried, yet she didn’t comprehend it herself entirely. For Dōma, his love showed itself violently yet also gracefully. He had already killed in her name, on multiple occasions, but he’d also bathe her body so tenderly- as if his palms weren’t stained with the blood of thousands. She had grown accustomed to that sentiment. Allowing a killer to touch her, to stroke her hair, to whisper soft words in her ear- but was she not the same now? Was she not also a killer? She did it because she had to survive, like all creatures- but she had became his creature. All who knew this, knew she was his weakness.

A weakness he made, that he allowed- for the simple craving of what he could never have.

But that’s how it usually works, isn’t it?

Envious for something you cannot obtain, cannot have.

His eyes, always peered to hers. And that gentle smile, only ever faltered for her.

She had grown to accept Dōma, for being this way. It was strange, if someone said to her now- that he was a brutal killer, and a monster. She wouldn’t disagree, but she would still fight in his name; How strange it was, to spend so much time by someone’s side that you would still pick them over a warm heart, and not a cold one. But, being around coldness makes you used to it- the warmth begins to burn. And this was true vice versa, but Dōma didn’t think the heat burned, no. Instead, he fantasied about the touch. Like a moth attracted to a flame, her heart was his saving grace.

He truly did feel something for her.

Time had become irrelevant, she did not know how long she had been at the temple- she did not know how long she had known Dōma now. Yet, it did not matter, because old age would escape her now as it would him.

Together, for eternity, as he’d say

She took in a deep breath, the humidity entering her lungs. A solitary bird, flew over the court yard- and she couldn’t help to wonder what that felt like. To be free, to go wherever you want, to not be plagued with the mind of a thinker.

Dōma appeared from behind her, he bent over to her height to place a kiss on her cheek.

“I’ve been looking for you all over, my love.” He smiled.

She didn’t reply, instead she kept her gaze up at the sky. Dōma’s followed, the colours in his eyes seeming more dim than usual.

As he sat down, his hand travelled along her thigh, moving his thumb in a circular motion. YN’s eyes didn’t falter from the sky. She never knew what he wanted, he was a man, or more so devil, incapable of understanding.

“If I died, what would you do?” Suddenly, Dōma spoke. The question itself made YN’s eyes jump to his face, and without a surprise, she was met with utter nothingness.

“Why would you ask such a question?” Her voice was quiet and meek. Not because the subject of death itself bothered her but because she, in truth, was utterly afraid of what she would do. Her entire existence revolved around him. As a human, she had no family and no understanding of her place in the world- taught to simply serve men and nothing more. It was a skill of survival not of life. Yet, regardless of what he had done to her- forcing her to come to his sanctuary with him, breaking her apart for his own amusement and satisfaction- he had never touched her without her permission. He had never taken advantage of her, nor had he ever put her in any real danger apart from herself. If he hurt her, he made sure it was a lesson and not a beating. Though, she had hurt him too. It was simply how their love worked, there cannot be hate without love- and there cannot be hate without violence. If he died, she would have no meaning whatsover. She didn’t have friends. She didn’t relate to the cultists who believed in a God who didn’t exist, whom was dead. And if he was real, he certainly laughed at their pity and despair. She didn’t relate to them at all, because she was in fact not human any more. It was an aspect she often forgot, and her creator, before her- had been the one to teach her everything she knew. How could she not have some sort of pact with him? Regardless of the hate she had buried deep within her, regardless of the lies she told herself. That was life, that survival. And he didn’t care, because words, were just words. And actions, were just actions.

She swallowed.

“I don’t know.”

“Would you find someone else?” He asked, his gaze turning to hers. His eyes would always become so dull, and it never made her fail to realise, how utterly vacant he was.

“No.” She answered truthfully. Because, the raw and hard truth was, she couldn’t ever love someone again. Not because of some hidden morals but because he had destroyed the meaning. His love was so violent yet so tender at the same time, any other form would seem meaningless and empty to her. It wouldn’t be love to her anymore. All the screaming and all the blood would accompany all the nights spent with nails in her thighs and sweet little nothings in her ear. How, could she even possibly fathom to find, such a distasteful love ever again?

Yet she wouldn’t have it either way, and neither would he.

Dōma didn’t answer, he turned his gaze back to the sky. The question had spawned worry in YN.

Did he do it on purpose?

Or was he genuinely curious?

“Are you afraid of dying?” She finally mustered out, her hand rested itself on his- to which he stopped his movements.

“No.”

“Yet, I’m afraid of you dying.”

The statement didn’t surprise her, instead it filled with her an odd sense of false security. No matter how violent and toxic he was, he would protect her- but maybe just not from him.

Soon, the droplets of rain began to fall.

Without another word, Dōma had gently guided YN to her feet, and his hand met her lower back before he leaned down to her ear.

“If you did die, I’d kill myself to join you.”

Her heart had skipped a beat for a moment.

The statement itself didn’t shock her but the tone he had used. It had a certain animosity to it, it wasn’t devoid of emotion but it didn’t exactly have any either.

That was when that pit of fear begun to emerge in her stomach again.

Fear of the unknown.

She was right to have observed the storm rolling in, because something had changed.

But, as they entered the temple- she was suddenly remembered of his words long ago.

“Until death do us part.”

Did he mean that, literally?

Did he know something she didn’t?

Was he planning to kill her? Or was he ordered to? Or was he simply in a bad mood?

If he was going to kill her, she’d rather know than not. He could atleast have the decency to give her the mental preparation , though he always was a selfish man- even in bed. Which was quite ironic considering he didn’t even care for it but saw it as more of a hobby.

Lost in thought, she had failed to realise he had guided them to their bedroom. It was odd, considering prayer time was soon and the two would be expected to make an appearance.

Before she could speak, she was met with his cold lips against hers. It wasn’t rough, but it wasn’t exactly passionate either. It was hungry.

For Dōma, the heat that radiated off of her lips was almost intoxicating. They weren’t cold like his, her heart constantly beat, with fire and warmth. How she resembled him so, yet not at the same time. In truth, he had done this on purpose. He had orchestrated the entire thing. He already knew, who she was before he found her almost dead. After all, he was the one who impaled her.

But she didn’t know that, and she didn’t need to know.

The entire reasoning of it all was for a simple reason.

A life long partner.

Although he didn’t understand love and affection, he wasn’t oblivious to social cues. He knew nobody truly actually liked him. And his devoted followers loved him because they were told to.

But he could force someone to love him, couldn’t he? Afterall that was what that woman had told him, when he sought counselling on his troubles. Of course, her good advice now lays in the bowels of his stomach.

So, he had stalked for a partner.

The entertainment district, had truly never failed to amaze him. There were all kinds of people, and beautiful women- he just had to choose wisely- and he did at that. It was a rarity for him to have bad taste after all.

In truth, he knew everything about her before she even knew of his existence.

He knew she had no family, no ties to the outside world- that she was born into this work and never truly knew what love was. It was easy, he just had to make her believe this was love because he was incapable of showing it any other way.

He had found her to be quite exquisite, and he had already noticed that fire inside of her. The warmth that he had been looking for, for a century.

His mother was unable to give it to him, and another woman failed at it- she would be the last option. If she failed, he would kill himself entirely. He had decided.

He would die in a battle, he knew that.

Regardless, before he died- he wanted to know what love felt like. He was always so cold, he had become numb to it and although she was the same breed of monster he was now, she wasn’t so cold.

He knew he’d have to break her into two to make her love him

He knew, he’d have to lie and deceive her- but did he ever claim to not be the devil?

After all, he is cunning but also beautiful- and he once was an angel.

Perhaps this was a pointless fight, to be fighting for something that he will never truly obtain- but he’s had everything he’s ever wanted apart from that.

He didn’t care for walking in the sun or power

He revelled in slaughter because it made him feel something and likewise now, he could only fall under the spell she had put under him.

His hands travelled up her waist and down to her hip bone before he lightly bit at her bottom lip.

What would she say, if she knew?

She was so erratic, maybe she would kill herself. Afterall she tried it once before, who’s to say she wouldn’t again? She would leave him wouldn’t she? Why would she not? Everyone else had.

Everyone he had ever taken a liking to, would simply leave.

Perhaps he shouldn’t have turned her into a demon in the first place

Maybe he wasn’t deserving of love

“Dōma?”

Suddenly, his mind wandered back to reality. It was not often that he zoned out, after all, he was so perceptive- yet when it came to her, he became a man he didn’t even recognise.

He hadn’t even noticed, that he placed her onto the bed, and loomed over her. He had kissed her neck before abruptly stopping and his gaze becoming devoid of any emotion.

“What’s wrong?”

How funny it was, he thought. That she cared

His signature smile returned, as his slightly closed yet were still open enough to see those multicoloured eyes.

“Nothing at all, my love- since you’re here with me” He whispered, and placed another kiss on the crane of her neck before moving to her collarbone before he was met with a rather violent pull of his hair which led him for just a moment- to widen his eyes.

“First, you ask me such a ridiculous question, then this, and then you just suddenly gaze into nothing. Explain yourself.” Her voice had broke, she wasn’t upset but worried and dumbfounded.

He always kept her emotions in disarray.

Should he tell her?

Would it be proof of her love if he did?

That he had in fact orchestrated the entire thing?

One of his hands reached up to her cheek, as he stroked it lightly.

“Do you remember, how we met?” He asked, gently.

“When you..kidnapped me?” She scoffed, looking back at the memory it was foggy and blurry. A reminder of a previous life, a life where she still didn’t have any freedom.

“Hm, yes I suppose..for you..that’s how we met.” His tone became cold.

“..?..”

“That monster, that you had seen- it was me, my dear.”

“I was the one that caused the city to become ruin.”

She was met with horror as distant memories suddenly became anew.

She had shoved them to the back of her head, she hadn’t once thought about what she had seen.

Only the flames, were describable but not the other horrors.

The way the other girls were screaming and crying as pillars of wood fell and the smell of copper filled the halls. Mutated legs and arms scattered around the building like children’s toys.

And the sudden golden tinted fan that had her in her chest before she fell from the window.

It was in an effort to catch her.

Her mouth grew dry.

She had understood now, why their first encounter was so strange. He didn’t decide to keep her on a whim, he had decided long before. He had caused the city to burn, for her. In an effort to break her, to have her. To make her believe that he was her saviour, her god.

“..What..”

What, was the only word she could muster out as Dōma shadowed over her.

His eyes had a glint in them, they weren’t so dim. As if he was glad to have the lie between them finally revealed, as if they growing anew- as if this would be true love.

“I had seen you, quite a few months back- walking home after working.”

He smiled

“Oh, it was quite funny, you didn’t even see the poor girl I was feasting on..”

His canines shined under the small luminosity that housed the room

“But, you just caught my eye. You were so beautiful! And just so lost in your own mind, it was exactly what I was looking for! I had to know more.”

He bent down now, cheerfully and joyous as he placed a toothy kiss to her neck.

Goosebumps filled her body.

“You..stalked me.. and then burnt the entire fucking city to the ground?”

Her voice broke again, she was dumbfounded? Afraid?

Horrified was more the word for it.

“And I would burn the world, just for you.

You didn’t need that city, what good did it do? It only harmed you, my love.”

He pleaded his case.

“You were exactly what I was looking for, intelligent and creative yet you had this striking beauty to you, though the sadness and despair wasn’t something I had ignored either- I wanted to save you, you poor thing.” He whispered into her ear, yet the words meant nothing- it only fuelled the sickening feeling in her stomach.

“You..manipulated me..?” Her voice had grown quiet, tears now threatening the corners of her eyes.

“Oh, YN. You were always so exquisite when you cried.” Dōma approached his mouth to her left eye, before gently licking the corner.

It filled her with disgust.

“You..took everything away from me..and then denied me death just..for-..for-” YN couldn’t finish the sentence before a muffled sob escaped her mouth.

“Took everything away..? You never had anything in the first place..

I gave you everything you’d ever need” He stroked his thumb on her cheek.

She wanted to tell him to get out, to scream at him and to cry and sob.

After all this time, she had been so stupid

She had ignored the simple truth, because she had already known.

Yet, she couldn’t accept it, because she had nobody else.

The hate had dissipated, for the simple reason of lying to herself.

Dōma now telling her and affirming her suspensions all along, all in some sick and twisted way of proving his love to her made her realise, that what she had grown to love was a monster, and would only ever be a monster.

He didn’t just kidnap her, he destroyed everything in his path to make sure she had nothing else to return to. That he would be the only thing she would have, turning him into the same creature that he was, into the same monstrosity- was assurance.

He didn’t manipulate her in his mind, he simply bent the truth.

Stalking was such a big word, he had only just learnt every single detail about her before making his move. Was that normal? He wanted results, not failure.

Her muffled sobs brought a grin to his face, an erratic one. He always did like to see her cry, it reminded him that she still had her humanity- that she was still so different from him.

He approached her ear with a sweet shushing sound as if to soothe her.

“I even kept their bodies, in case you ever missed them”

“...you’re fucking sick” YN finally managed to muster out, with a cry to accompany it.

“If being in love with you makes me sick, then so be it!” He cheerfully smiled

“This isn’t love!” She tried to push him off, but he was stronger. He always was. He pinned both of her wrists down with one arm- his veins making an appearance.

“You don’t think I love you, YN?” Dōma masqueraded a look of sadness before a golden fan met his free his hand, with a swift movement, it opened.

“Do you want me to prove to you, that I do?”

His voice became devoid of any emotion.

Before YN could answer, or even comprehend his sudden act- she was met with a gush of blood hitting her face.

A small empty laugh filled her ears and as she looked, she realised he had slit his throat open- the fan was still impaled into his neck and was making it’s way through the bone deeper.

“I love you so much I’d be prepared to die for you, are you?”

Before she could react, the fan had already met her neck.

She whimpered as it slightly cut her skin- though he hadn’t cut her nearly as deep as he had cut himself.

His skin had already begin to heal.

“There shouldn’t be any lies between us, my love. If you died, I’d go utterly insane.”

“Please..get off of me.” She whimpered as her white hair and porcelain skin was now stained with his blood. Though, he himself didn’t care. Instead, he shoved another kiss on her lips. This time it was rough, a mixture of the taste of blood and saliva pooled the two’s mouths as he harshly bit at her lip. In an effort to make him stop even for just a moment, she bit him back yet this caused absolutely no reaction at all and seemed to just fuel his blood lust further.

He pretended to be a kind man when in truth, he was nothing but hell itself among mortals.

“What does it matter?” He finally breathed into her mouth.

“It was so long ago now, hm?” He stroked her hair, his own fingers stained with crimson red.

“It matters because you killed everyone that I knew! You burnt my home to ash!” She cried out

“Had you not said, you had lived a life of a misery?” He tilted his head, to which YN was met with silence in her own mind.

She had said that, hadn’t she.

“Did I not give you a somewhat better life? Regardless of my past actions? As they say, let’s not cry over spoiled milk, my dear.”

“..Why..”

Dōma reflected for a moment

“Does it matter?” He asked, emotionless.

It didn’t, she had concluded.

It didn’t matter, because regardless she was stuck here. She wouldn’t leave, she knew she wouldn’t. She was stuck within the devils grasp- and he wasn’t letting go.

Deep down, maybe she knew the answer. But it didn’t matter.

It never did, because in truth, she would most likely die from her hand- and him his own.

It was a story that was never bound to have a happy ending.

After all, their entire existence was against the codes of nature and so was this so called love.

“I would feed my heart to you, if you just asked, my love.”

She wished, she had killed herself that day.

[lexsssu]

NGL, you mentioning Leon Kennedy is now making me think he's clingy af to everyone who loves him, 'cause I've been getting the urge to replay RE2R/RE4 recently just because of him.

To, uh, gaze at him respectfully. Very respectfully. 👀👀👀

Bro yesssssssssssss

I swear that bby boi is so affection-starved after everything that happened to him that the moment he finds real love, there's no way he's holding back <3

And with that, here's what I came up for Leon so far because he decided to invade my dreams-- HAHAHAHA

TAGS: Older!Leon (late 30s-early 40s)/F!reader(early-mid 20s), age gap, pervy thoughts, affection-starved!Leon, headcanons Ko-fi | Commissions (OPEN)

Older!Leon who'd all but given up any semblance of a normal relationship after everything he's gone through. He lazes about in the coach of the cheap apartment he sentenced himself into living in (despite the swanky and secure government housing freely provided as one of the top agents) with a cold beer while some random series was playing on low volume on the TV

Older!Leon who hears knocking on his door and begrudgingly answers it only to be met with the prettiestcutestmostgorgeousmouthwatering person he'd ever seen in his life

Older!Leon gets a full whiff of your strawberries & cream scent even before you opened your mouth and has him thinking of everything that is innocent, good, and worth protecting in this world. He then realizes that you'd already introduced yourself and that he'd been staring at you like a creep this whole time

“Kennedy…Uhhh…Leon S. Kennedy,” he half mumbles and states as he tries not to look too deeply into your eyes lest he finds himself lost in their depths. He doesn’t need to look more of a creep than you might have already thought he was

 And when you don’t immediately run for the hills, he internally sighs in relief. It’s a foreign feeling to him, because after all the horrors he’d witnessed and experienced, the last thing he ever worried about was how other people perceived him

That he was actually worried about what you thought about him despite having only met is both alarming and yet somehow…comforting? It tells him that despite how broken he thinks he is, he’s not so broken as to no longer care at all about anything

…It also helps that you’re such a cutie that it’s impossible for him not to care about you. Especially when you keep bringing him your homemade food all the time

The animal part of his brain rumbles with pleasure at how you were already being such a good mate by making sure he’s well-fed when he’d yet to properly bond you to him. It reinforces the idea that some part of you unconsciously knew that he was the one for you

“It’s the first time I’ve lived on my own, and I guess I’m just not used to making only food for one. I don’t like letting food go to waste either, so I thought maybe one of the neighbors might appreciate it. Safe to say that I never get to any of the other neighbors since you’re always gratefully accepting my cooking, Mr. Kennedy”

Had he been a lesser man, your playful teasing would have resulted in you pinned to the floor as he loomed over you, covering your naughty little mouth with his. He could already imagine the tiny squeak you’d let out in surprise or the delicious whimpers he’d coax from your plush lips that he’d only swallow up

“I think we’re more than acquainted enough to get past our surnames, don’t you think? Just Leon is fine with me, doll.” 

The first time he hears his given name spoken from your lips, his traitorous brain conjures up an image of you with your eyes practically rolling to the back of your head as he fucks your pretty pussy open with his cock 

Was he getting too attached because you were the first person outside of the dangerous world he lived in who showed genuine care without expecting anything in return?

…Perhaps

But did he really care? 

Honestly, no

If anything, it’s only a matter of time until he no longer had to imagine waking up next to you in the morning or getting back home from a mission or the office and having you wrapped in a pretty little apron without anything underneath waiting patiently for him