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katerinaaqu · 1 month ago

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The Lament of a Life (Achilles and Antilochus short songfic)

If someone asks me how the lament of Achilles looks like my answer would be the amazing aria with music composed by Vivaldi:

youtube

The lyrics go on a repeat like this:

So today is a bit chilly and so I was inspired by this amazing song and made this! (Sorry itis a random inspiration I had this morning from this piece thus the title "song-fic")

***

His eyelids were heavy. He didn’t feel like getting up anymore. His bed seemed cold and inhospitable and yet he didn’t feel like moving out of it. His eyes opened slowly and looked to the side. It was empty. He looked outside his tent. Also empty. There was nothing left; he didn’t have the subject of his revenge anymore; he had given it back. Hector’s body was buried and celebrated. His revenge had come to an end. And yet, he felt empty. Nothing mattered. Achilles, the Best and Noblest of all the Greeks was no longer feeling anything mattered. What would it matter now that the subject of his vengeance was gone, if the subject of all the affections he could offer to a human being was also gone? His soul was in turmoil throughout the process. He thought on Briseis, the woman that he felt so strongly for; merely a slave and yet so important for him, had started this domino of reactions which led him to the strike; his refusal to fight. Then his refusal led to this terrible result; the death of his other half. The flame that flickered inside him was gone, the moment Patroclus’s eyes turned glassy from death and he wasn’t even there. During Patroclus’s last moments…he wasn’t there! He remembered his wife; a woman he barely knew and yet she gave him a son, a son he adored despite his young years, a son that he never knew and a son that never knew him back. He could be lamenting for them; they wouldn’t see him again possibly. Given the prophecy, he was to die in war. Possibly neither his wife nor his son, were included in the prophecy. He should be crying for them. He should be crying for the people that were around him and yet…he was feeling weak; unwilling to even get out of his bed and eat because of… He slowly forced himself to sit up and he looked at the magnificent urn with two handles that was always within eye gaze from him. The intricate patterns were cold; just like his bed that could not give him warmth.

“Come back…” he whispered in a voice chocked deep in his throat

Tears oozed out of his sea-blue eyes; his throat burning anew.

“I did what you asked…I offered you a burial…come back…! Please…come back to me!”

His hand was shaking as it was reaching for the cold, golden urn; his other fixing the covers upon his naked chest, in a vain attempt to generate some warmth within.

“Please…” he whispered again, “Come back…!”

“Achilles…”

The young and soft voice didn’t surprise him neither made him react. Antilochus was standing right behind him, undoubtedly had entered his tent a little while prior, enough to hear his foolish and childish lament.

“He won’t come back…” the young man said as a matter of fact, “You offered him a burial. He is in the land of Hades now… He will not come back”

More tears arose from Achilles’s eyes as he clasped desperately the covers against his chest; his face buried to the pocket created by them as if his own eyes wanted to confirm what hurt so much was indeed the organ that was pumping his blood, giving him life inside. Yes, he knew. His cut hair was also a proof of that but hearing it again was somehow destroying that foolish illusion that if he begged hard enough, goddess Persephone would have mercy and send back Patroclus to him; his soul to talk to or at least restore his body to hold one more time…

“Soul of my soul…” he mumbled in lament, “My dear as my own heart…”

“Shh…” Antilochus whispered in tears, hugging his shoulders affectionately, “I know… I know… Please don’t do this to yourself… I know it hurts but…he’s gone… No matter what you do…how much you melt…he won’t come back…”

“Heart of my heart…” Achilles lamented again, “I want him back…! I want him to come back…”

“I know…” Antilochus said again, caressing his golden locks with his hands

Achilles seemed almost aged at that point in his sorrow. Antilochus almost felt tempted to look for white hairs in his golden head.

“And I am sorry that I cannot offer you any consolation… Forgive me. I am not him; I cannot take your sorrow away…”

Antilochus softly raised Achilles’s head, cupping his cheeks and making him look deep in the eyes. He moped the tears from his cheekbones with his thumbs.

“I know I am young and foolish…but, please, take one bit of advice from me; stop looking at it! Stop looking at that urn! It will only hurt you more… You need to come back to us too…we need you…”

He looked away.

“I need you…” he whispered shyly, “You are my hero, my idol… I need you back, strong and healthy…maybe some of your previous happiness back… Please…please my dear…we all need you. Above all I do…”

Achilles looked at him and for one moment he looked like a hurt animal facing the peasant that had released him from the hunter’s trap. However then he laughed; it was a dry, humorless, lamenting laugh.

“Don’t be foolish!” he said self-pettily, “No one shall need me! I shall die! I know I will!”

“Don’t talk like that!”

“You can’t deny it, Antilochus! I know it to be true! It was predicted for me! I will die! I will die in this war! My mother told me someday I would die in this war if I decided to fight! I shall never go home! I shall never see my wife and son! I will die now! I know I will and I don’t care! Nothing matters anymore!”

“Don’t say that!” Antilochus retorted again

“I know the truth” Achilles insisted, “I decided it for myself. I know what my fate is! That urn Im staring is waiting for me! I am to die!”

Antilochus looked away. He seemed hesitant; his arm rubbing his upper arm as if he was about to make that confession no one has heard before.

“I’ll tell you a secret…” he whispered, “So am I…”

Achilles seemed surprised and shocked for the first time in that conversation. Suddenly the lament gone; now there was fear in his eyes. Fear for yet another loss.

“My father was hiding it…but I overheard him. An oracle once told him to beware of an Ethiopian. At first I didn’t know…but my father tried to hide it from me. I know now that I am to die somehow by someone from a foreign land… Maybe today maybe tomorrow maybe here maybe at home… I know though that I will die like this…and…”

He swallowed and looked back at Achilles. The elder man gasped seeing tears to Antilochus’s eyes.

“…And I am scared! I am scared, Achilles! I don’t want to tell my father that for he would be ashamed of me and my cowardice but…I am scared! How can you take it, Achilles? How can you live knowing that you will die…?”

“Antilochus…”

Antilochus quickly mopped his own tears, sniffing his nose, trying to find his composure.

“I’m sorry…” he mumbled, “I don’t know what came into me! I just…”

He sighed.

“We need you back” he finally repeated, “You are our strength and our courage. When you are out there we are afraid of nothing!”

“Antilochus!”

And Achilles did something the younger prince never expected; he embraced him.

“Antilochus, dear to my heart…don’t say such things please. Don’t you say that you will die! I will not let you! I…I will protect you!”

“You…you will…?”

“I will!”

Achilles kissed the top of his head and held him close. Maybe for the first time in weeks he didn’t think of death and burials. Right now he was lamenting a life; this young man who was there apparently sharing his pain and fate. No, he wouldn’t see yet another young person close to him die before him in battle!

“I will protect you! I will not let anything happen to you I promise!”

The two men remained there for quite some time, neither wanted to count the time. It was a shared lament for their short lives; a lament that was different than the one for the dead souls. Who would die first? If both of them were destined to die in the war against Troy, who would die first and who would watch the other die? Neither wanted to be the last. Neither wanted to see the other die. What weird and sad fate! Achilles was almost rocking the youth in his arms so worried of his upcoming death while he was almost welcoming his at that point; oftentimes kissing tenderly his temple. Antilochus was trying to evoke some of his warmth to Achilles for he was afraid for his upcoming death; his welcoming of it. He didn’t want to hear fate yet alone his willingness to accept it. It was a weird way to connect that autumn morning. And yet he felt that at least Achilles might have found a reason to postpone his will to die. Antilochus broke the embrace first, standing up.

“Look at us!” he chuckled softly, “Looking like children playing at the gymnasium like this! We have a war to fight! I am sorry…I took your personal time, my lord Achilles…”

“Wait!” Achilles’s voice made him stop, “Stay…please…”

It was a request; a pleading.

“Please stay with me longer…” he almost seemed worried, afraid

“Are you afraid of the dark and shadows?”

“Yes…” Achilles admitted, “More like those inside my heart… Please stay a bit longer…”

Antilochus smiled softly.

“Of course, my lord…” he whispered, “I would be delighted”

Outside the tents, the Greeks were already preparing for the events of the day. The kings were to negotiate their next step again given how the mourning period for Hector was over, how the killings would start anew. It was a sad prospect and they knew their own forces wouldn’t last long. The spies were also informing them on movement on Troy’s part to call upon more allies to arrive to the battlefield. Odysseus was thinking all this as he pranced about the camp. He blew some warm air to his freezing fingers. Autumn was in for good. Soon winter would arrive again.

“Yet another year to the foot of Troy…” he thought miserably, “Yet another year away from our homes…for the sakes of this war…”

He was also worried on Achilles. That last lament period shocked everyone. Achilles had just collapsed and then turned into blind rage. People were afraid on his sanity; that his mind would break. An out of control Achilles was much more dangerous than they would have thought. And their army needed their support. Before the Trojans had Hector to even the odds. Now their strongest warrior was gone. It would be their chance to have higher spirits and yet they didn’t. Achilles was a mess. Once more they seemed to square one… He could only hope he would snap out of his grief enough to fight. His gloomy thoughts were interrupted when he saw old Nestor. Nestor was suffering more than the rest of them from the cold; he had a bear skin over his shoulders to keep his old bones warmer and yet he refused to stand back. Odysseus smiled.

“Good morning, my friend” he said

“Good morning” Nestor replied, “It turned chilly!”

“Yeah…” Odysseus agreed, “Sometimes I envy the young!”

“Speaking of which…my son left the tent earlier this morning. He said he wanted to check on Achilles and I didn’t hear from him since. Have you seen him?”

“No” Odysseus replied thoughtfully, “But I was heading there myself to check on things. Maybe he is still there”

As if on a queue they heard light laughter coming from the direction where the Myrdmidons had camped. The distinct, clear laughter from Achilles made a small smile creep to Odysseus’s lips.

“It’s the first time I hear him laugh in weeks…” he sounded almost hopeful, “Your son is a miracle-worker!”

Nestor smiled back.

“He is…” he whispered thoughtfully, “He is…”

Odysseus’s smile dropped when he saw a shadow in Nestor’s eyes. He didn’t need to ask to know there was something ominous hanging over the two youths.

Yet another time he looked at the cloudy, gray sky and wondered to Athena how all that was even justified…if the youth were to perish and all the others would live…

***

So yeah...Achilles being depressed and Antilochus giving some consolation! TT_TT Achilles hoped to see Patroclus's ghost again (which is what inspired me from that amazing Aria as well!)

Also I wondered if Antilochus knew the warning Nestor got to "beware of an Ethiopian" if he would know or sense the warning was for himself instead of his father...what if he feared it all along...maybe that would be the connection with Achilles!

Set after the mourning period of Hector! As you can see I kept it a bit "homeric" in the essence that I love tenderness in his writing and then leave it unravel!

a small thanking thing in a way too for @smokey07 for honoring me with a mention! Anoher thankng for @h0bg0blin-meat for his sketch to one of my silly headcanons about Achilles and Patroclus! Still makes me giggle my friend!

Also I want you guys check out my brilliant friend's art and mentions on our characters trust me you won't regret it! Many parallels of the epic cycle were added unconsciously to our story! Hahahaha! @artsofmetamoor

My analysis on Achilles and Patroclus can be found here

Antilochus needed some love too there! Hehehe others write scary stories for October but I was like "nope I shall mention ghosts in angst!"

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nats-revival · 10 months ago

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Speak now: you interrupt abby and ow4ne wedding and object against it because you're in love with her and you know she loves you too.

𝙩𝙝𝙚 ‘𝙡’ 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 | 𝙖. 𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙤𝙣 a/n: wait bc.. this eats lowk! this def turned out more angsty than i expected but.. who cares!! also i just didn’t wanna make a banner. 😭 this was just smth i wrote off the top of my head + it’s not.. rlly proofread so excuse any typos!!

pairing: abby anderson x fem!reader

tags: quite angsty, mentions of sex, tw: ow*n, it’s mentioned that abby struggles with her sexuality (projecting a little. 😭🙏)

imagine that you’d secretly been seeing abby for months, just for one night stands and she’d be gone by the morning. you’d find your bed cold, and finding out she was getting married to owen? oh, your heart just shattered!! now here you were standing on the opposite side of abby holding some bouquet of flowers wearing your bridesmaid outfit while she was dressed in white, holding owens hands. you could’ve gagged. “if anyone objects, speak now or forever hold your peace.” the marriage officiant announced. a flash of anger runs its course through your veins. “i object!” you say, tossing the bouquet of flowers you were holding. “abby, we’ve been seeing eachother for so long. you said you loved me! how could you say that and then do this infront of my face?” inviting you to the wedding and seeing you all at once was a double homicide.

the weddings attendees whisper to eachother and eye abby. owens face twists with a multitude of emotions as he takes in the new found information. “are you serious?” abby asks with a dumbfounded expression on her face. of course abby loves you. she’d said it to you many times whenever you had sex. the ‘l’ word was a strong word. she said it and let it fill your veins and brain as she looked in your eyes. you and abby often argued often, and most of the time it just ended in the two of you fucking until you came to conclusions (double entendre!!) then she’d leave you there alone. abbys life was a battle of feeling that she had to be straight. that’s just the environment she’d been around, so getting with you was, in a way, still foreign to her though id been happening for a while. so now here she was debating between marrying owen or continuing her relationship with you. being between your legs was her various of heaven.

hearing you screaming her name, arching your back off the bed, chanting words that resonated through her brain as if it were some kinda echo chamber up there, she could just never forget that. no matter how many times she had sex with owen, she couldn’t forget you. she was afraid of how her friends would think of her. but seeing how tight your fists were balled up and how your knuckles were turning white, she couldn’t help it. she thought with her heart for once and her once seemingly impossible decision was solidified, set in stone and never broke. she left owen at the alter. she walks towards you. “this.. whole thing was stupid. and i can’t deny this anymore. i can’t keep this illusion up. i love you. so, so much.” abby said softly. so, you take her hand and hold it as you walk back down the aisle. you were glad you showed up because this would’ve never happened.

#wlfabby #adria answers anons #tlou #the last of us #the last of us part two #abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x fem!reader #abby anderson x female!reader #reader insert #tlou x reader #the last of us x reader

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lazyflower48 · 1 year ago

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At the anime expo recently, Asagiri said that BEAST is his favourite light novel. I'm gonna take that as my cue to talk about it once again because i love BEAST so much, and i will talk about it at every chance i get.

So, I'm back with yet another episode of BSD BEAST is pain, I decided to go through the light novel after reading the manga, and we have these paragraphs:

The line that hurt me the most here was, "He smiled like a lost child who finally found his house."

It hurt me so much because BEAST Dazai is merely acting on the memories he got from the Original Dazai. BEAST Dazai never got to experience Odasaku's friendship. So in that moment, he's sitting in front of Oda, but that's not the Odasaku who was his friend. BEAST Oda only sees him as the boss of Port Mafia, his enemy. Whereas Dazai sees him as his dear friend. The only person who "understood him far beyond what he had ever thought."

This one...where do I start?

"It's hard to take someone's word for it when you've only just met"

"I felt as if the young man sitting before me was about to cry. But that wouldn't make any sense. It wasn't logical"

There is so much I have to say about these lines. Dazai is being encouraging towards Oda. It's a rare sight to see, Dazai actually being positively and genuinely encouraging about something??? But at the end of the day, his words barely hold any weight because he's just a stranger to Oda. So when Oda tells him that and Dazai looks like he's about to cry, he, of course, finds it ridiculous and illogical. Why would this man he just met cry over those words?

From Dazai's perspective, those words probably hurt him a lot. Being told that and then being called an enemy by the man who he dedicated his life to save yet, he can't do anything about it. So the idea of Dazai crying, being vulnerable for even a second, says a lot.

"His cheerful, boyish expression now gone."

Dazai, the boss of the PM, the one with tremendous amount of weight on his shoulders thought that maybe for once he could act childish around his friend but that illusion shattered the moment Oda basically called him a stranger.

One thing I've noticed in this particular chapter of BEAST is the display of emotions from Dazai. For a man who barely expresses his true emotions, in BEAST, we get to see an uncharacteristically emotional side of Dazai.

"especially when it hurts so much to say it to them." At this point, I have nothing more to add. It hurts enough already.

Beast Dazai is truly one the most tragic characters I've ever read about. At the end of the day, he is just a shadow of the Original Dazai. He spent all these years planning and scheming and even went as far as giving up his own life for his friend. But that friendship only existed in his memories because in this universe, he is only a stranger to Oda.

What made Asagiri think it was okay to write BEAST and then say it's his favourite light novel?!

#i know im only hurting myself by overanalyzing this but i cant help it #i will never stop talking about beast #bungou stray dogs #bsd #bsd dazai #bungo stray dogs #dazai #bungo stray dogs beast #bsd beast #beast dazai #bsd manga #odasaku #oda sakunosuke #osamu dazai #bsd ramblings

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101flavoursofweird · 1 year ago

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Emerald Trio Week: Day 2 - Inspiration

Spoilers: Minor spoilers for Watching and Dreaming regarding Hunter’s new…talent.

Set: After Watching and Dreaming. Hunter is attending Hexside with the others.

Warnings: A reference to the Titanic movie is made… Gus doubts his artistic skills… Contains more Huntlow and Gustholomule— glad I can tag them now!

Note: Again, thanks to @loosescrewslefty for the prompts.

Resting on his stomach above his bedroom rug, Gus squinted at the sketchpad in front him. He gnawed on the end of his pencil like a hungry echo mouse.

Legend had it that human pencils used to contain lead , which was poisonous for humans—

Stop getting distracted!

Gus shook his head and returned to the issue at hand: Matt’s birthday— tomorrow.

Gus could have (should have) gone out and purchased Matt a gift, but, never one to pass up a challenge, Gus had decided to create something instead.

Illusions were too easy. Matt had received plenty of illusions from Gus, and by this point, Matt was proficient at casting his own illusions.

Matt would be expecting something better from Gus. Something Gus had worked hard on. A challenge!

So, Gus had decided to take a page of out of Matt’s book. Gus was going to draw him a picture…

It sounded childish when Gus put it like that. No— he was going to produce a portrait. Paint the canvas. Compose an artistic masterpiece!

…As soon as he could figure out what to draw.

Think, Augustus, think…

No thoughts manifested. His brain was completely empty.

“Uuuuuugh!” Gus groaned and dropped his pencil. “Guys, what should I draw for Matt?”

So engrossed was he in his art that he’d almost forgotten Willow and Hunter were there with him.

They had come over an hour ago to start work on a project for History class, which only Hunter was still invested in now.

“Not sure…” Hunter replied without looking up from his books on Gus’s desk.

Willow made an ‘ I dunno’ noise from Gus’s bed, where she was watching a professional flyer derby match on her scroll.

“Thanks, you two!” Gus said flatly. “Such helpful, reliable friends I have—“ Willow tossed a pillow in his direction.

Gus gasped and moved his sketchpad aside. “Willow! You’re gonna wreck my canvas!” He chucked the pillow right back at her.

“Ha!” Willow caught the pillow. She placed the pillow at the end of his bed and planted her elbows on it.

“You can draw me!” she suggested with a smirk. She held her chin in her hand. “Draw me like one of your French girls!”

That made Hunter’s head turn. Willow pursed her lips at him.

“Ew! No!” Gus protested, poking his tongue out. (Why had he insisted on watching Titanic with them in the Human Realm? He’d thought it was a documentary…! ) “You two can just leave if you’re going to be all lovey-dovey!”

“Very well…” Willow sniffed loudly. She rolled to the left side of the bed and slowly slipped off. “But I promise I will… never… let go—“

Hunter snorted. When Willow’s hand sank weakly out of view, Gus wheezed with laughter too. Hunter joined him, clutching his sides as he rocked back in Gus’s chair. Willow popped up from behind the bed, chortling.

“This really… isn’t funny!” Gus gasped, after a minute. “The Titanic sinking was a real disaster in human history—“

“Kind of like our History project?” Hunter hummed.

“—and so is this!” Gus thrust a hand at his blank sketchbook. “How am I going to impress Matt? How?!”

“Why don’t you draw a beach?” Willow supplied, actually being helpful this time.

“Not a beach in the Boiling Isles… ” Hunter mumbled. Gus glanced at him. Hunter glanced away, rubbing his lip.

Willow said, “Maybe a beach from the Human Realm would be better?”

“Yeah…” Gus agreed. “ Yeah— that could work!”

One sunny day during their stay in the Human Realm, Camila had driven them all to a beach, where the sand was soft and the sea didn’t boil. They could actually swim in the water, without fear of burning…

Witches still had to wear sunblock. (Amity, especially…) But it was definitely worth it for that beautiful sunset.

Gus pictured it in his mind— the sand, the sea, the sunset— and he projected it as an illusion the size of a crystal ball.

“It was great,” Hunter said, smiling at the memory.

“Who needs photos,” Willow quipped, “when we’ve got Gus’ power?”

Gus grinned, grabbed his pencil and his sketchpad, and started to draw the scene. It was much easier when he had the memory in front of him.

The beach had been bustling and bright with colour: The sapphire waves, the golden sand, the pink and purple sky…

Gus had the outlines of the beach, but it was bland and grey with pencil.

Gus frowned. Should he try shading? He gently rubbed a pencil mark with his fingertip and winced at the mess he made. “I need colours— right now!”

“Paints or crayons?” Willow asked, shooting to her feet

Paints would be too messy… “Crayons!”

“You’re a witch,” Hunter reminded Gus. “Why don’t you just—? ”

“‘’S’cuse me!” Willow shoved past Hunter to reach the desk. She pulled a pack of colouring crayons out of a blue pencil pot, and passed them to Gus. “Here you go!”

“Thanks…”

Gus coloured in the lines he’d drawn, but when he was finished, it still looked… wrong. The crayons were too waxy, too artificial, and they didn’t blend together.

A baby could have done better than this!

“I’ve ruined it!” Gus moaned. His illusion-bubble popped. He threw his sketchbook away and flopped facedown on the rug.

“No, you haven’t!” Willow went to pick up his sketchbook

Still on the rug, Gus turned his head to Willow as she crouched beside him. She held the picture up to him, hoping he would see it in a different light.

“See? It’s fine, way better than my doodles—“

“Fine isn’t good enough,” Gus huffed.

Hunter said, “Why not?��

Rubbing his wrist, Gus sat up. “Because… Matt’s a really, really good artist. I just wanted to draw him something— something I put a lot of effort into…!”

“You did put a lot of effort in, Gus,” Willow assured him. “Of course Matt will see that, but if anyone doesn’t, who cares?”

“You can’t please everyone,” Hunter muttered, sympathetically. Willow offered him a reassuring smile.

Gus looked between the two of them. He took the sketchbook back from Willow, staring at his picture .

“But,” Hunter added, with surprising optimism, “do you know what would jazz it up even more…?” He stood up and pulled a small carving knife out of his apron pocket.

“A… palisman?” Gus guessed. “But Matt already has…”

Gus trailed off as Willow made a rectangle with her thumbs and index fingers. Closing one eye, Willow moved the rectangle over to Gus, as if she was snapping a photo of him.

“Oh!” Gus gasped.

Matt ripped the wrapping paper off the box. “You got me… a hunk of wood?”

“No !” Gus sighed. Carefully, Gus removed the hand-carved panel of wood and flipped it over, revealing his picture inside the frame.

Matt’s eyes widened. “Wait— you made this?”

Gus wasn’t sure if Matt was referring to the picture of the beach or the frame or both, but he nodded shyly.

Matt snatched the gift off him. For a horrible second, Gus thought Matt was going to throw the framed picture away, but then, Matt held it up for all of his party guests to see.

“Everyone— look at this! Look at THIS! The first of many masterpieces from Augustus Porter! And it’s all MINE…!”

Gus blushed and beamed at Matt’s adulation.

He glanced back at Willow and Hunter, who were both watching behind him. Willow gave him a thumbs-up. Though Hunter looked a little tired, he was smiling.

Gus mouthed, “Thank you—“ but he was cut off as Matt caught him in a one-armed hug.

Hunter smiled at Gus and Mattholomule.

He hadn’t gotten much sleep last night— between woodcarving and their history project— but it was worth it to see Gus and his friend/rival/crush(?) so happy together.

Rubbing his eyes, Hunter wondered how much longer he would have to stay at the party…

Mattholomule wouldn’t mind if Hunter left, would he? He and Hunter weren’t really close (Hunter was more familiar with Matt’s brother, Steve), and Hunter didn’t have a present with him…

An arm wrapped around Hunter’s shoulder. Willow pulled him down so her mouth was level with his burning ear.

“You can take credit for the frame,” she whispered. “Gus won’t mind…”

“Nah…” Hunter chuckled. “I’ll let him have this one—“

“That’s sweet of you…” Willow hummed hopefully. “Could you make me a photo frame— when it’s my birthday?”

“S-sure…”

To make sure it was absolutely perfect he’d have to start preparations immediately— finding the right wood, marking the measurements…

Willow pecked him on the cheek, interrupting Hunter’s plans.

“Thanks, Hunter.”

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mistycreativelilacs · 1 year ago

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A God Out Of Time

Summary: Set after the events of Loki season 1. Loki goes to an old friend in hopes she can save the timeline.

Authors Note: a one-shot (for now 😉) written for my friend pinchie ❤️

CW’s: Angst, manipulation, mentioned canonical character death

“You don’t have to lie to me, Loki.” Your hand aches to reach out to him, even just a reassuring gentle brush of fingers. But you hesitate, that quiet inner part of you replaying a lifetime of scenes just like this one, all seeming to answer the question you ask yourself every time. Can he really change?

“I know. I just don’t know how to stop.” He doesn’t even bother to change the line. He’s slipping, perhaps out of practice? Or more likely screwed something up so bad, he’s desperate.

“You must have truly, utterly screwed up if you’re desperate enough to try this trick on me again Laufeyson.” The world around us begins to bleed into an even older memory, a field of wildflowers sprouting up around us. I turn and begin walking in the direction that would lead home… if any of this was more than just a parlour trick. A trip down memory lane intended to sway me into breaking our sacred laws to assist whatever half-baked plan he had conjured up this time.

I'd be a liar to say this trick doesn't still affect me. I’m lost to the memory as arms wrap around my waist. “It’s cruel of you to taint one of the handful of good memories I have to try and gain my favour.“ His arms tighten as he drops his head to my shoulder.

“Please Ver, I need your help. You’re quite possibly the only being I know who can help me now.“ I indulge in childish fantasy for a lingering second, re-memorizing the way it feels to be wrapped in his arms, even if it’s merely an echo of our past. Urd doesn’t let me revisit these memories, afraid I’ll get stuck in them. Perhaps she was right.

“You truly have succumbed to the caricature of yourself the universe has painted if you believe you can charm your ex-lover into saving your current lover.” I push out of his arms breaking the illusion once more. This time the swirls take the shape of my most hated memory, that bloody ship.

“ I have mourned you time and time again Lo-lo. But this is the only time where I truly believed you wouldn’t return to me.” My feet lead me to the vision of his body, a crumpled heap on the ground. “That was the day I lost all hope. Our world was destroyed, my home, our sacred tree just gone. And you, lying there completely motionless, like all the times before, but it was different this time. I’d seen your string after all. I knew where it ended.” A few tears escape my eyes as I turn to the living imitation of the man I used to love. “Even having seen your string some small part of me hoped Skuld was wrong, that this was going to be another one of your tricks. You had changed so much and had finally reconciled with your brother. You deserved the chance to be the man I always believed you were. The man I finally saw a glimpse of again after nearly 300 years. My Loki. “ I look once more at the body of my Loki before returning my gaze to this variant, my gaze hardening. “ But he died this day and you… you are nothing more than an interloper, a remnant of his past… my past. A god out of time and in love with himself.”

His gaze hardened in a familiar way, one that threatened to tear at the ache in my chest. That flash of pain was followed by impenetrable ice walls erecting themselves around his heart. He’d only levelled that look at me once before in our millennia of life when we broke each other's hearts. The day my Loki disappeared for 300 years, replaced by the caricature standing in front of me.

“The Norns rules are law… greater law than even the one who remains sacred timeline. A mortal fool, playing at being a god.” I flick my wrist and the world around us begins to swirl into nothingness. “What’s done is done. I can not, and will not interfere.”

“You would doom us all out of spite?” He jeers at me, playing a hand built off the ideals of the girl he used to know. But I’m not her.

“I see you still have the listening comprehension of a child. I am not dooming us all, and even if I were then that is what was spun by fate itself.” We are standing in darkness now, these temporal visages of who we used to be flickering in and out of existence. “Do not stand there and pretend like you are asking me to break sacred laws because you care about the fate of the universe, of time itself. You care only of yourself and your precious Sylvie… although I guess that’s the same as only caring for yourself.” I’ve gotten closer, a careless mistake for which he seizes his opportunity.

This kiss is new, not a memory. The desperation, the need for me to understand him, all poured into one bone-crushing, teeth-clashing kiss. A hello, a cry for help, and a goodbye all wrapped up in a 30-second embrace.

I pull away forcefully. “You’re not him, and I’m not sure you could ever be him.” I turn unable to gaze at this imitation of my love any longer. “But thank you, for giving me the goodbye I never got.” With that the dream fades, and I awaken with a sob.

#loki laufeyson #loki series #mcu loki #loki x ofc #loki x original female character #marvel mcu #mcu fanfiction #angst #manipulation #semi factual Norse mythology #norns #oneshot #loki #marvel imagines #marvel #fanfiction #original character

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kneehighcrocs · 2 years ago

Text

FOR THE FUTURE TRAILER SPOILERS!!!!

idk how big the gap has to be for it to say keep reading or whatever so just scroll rly far yk

im just gonna list everything i see and think

the collector let king keep francois but idk where they are

theres so many things i can say abt that stack of tomes i cant even start

LILITHS HAIR??? OMG <33 it reminds me of cissy but i wonder why she had to cut it that short

poor hooty :(

as hooty is showing king says “watch things pass” does that mean hooty is essentially dead

the collector rly let loose. everywhere is starry and purple now

also i thought the whole head of the titan was decimated? ig not since only rly the top left is gone

they puppetified (for lack of a better word) all the coven heads

but where is terra.

WHERE IS TERRA

i wonder if theres any reason why we cant see dariuss face

was king trying to sneak off with hooty?

SHORT HAIRED EDA

seems like shes been shifting into harpy form way more judging by the amount of feathers

im assuming the collector is who scribbled out the “but should they meddle in our affairs” etc paragraph, but we dont get shown fully what theyve written under

they even puppetified the damn bugs

im assuming they are the one flicking that star but where are they? it shows bump at hexside after but wherever they are doesnt look like hexside. looks more like a house

they got all the teachers even the illusions one

the transformation could be painful judging by the split second we see bump grimace

they all look sad/disturbed apart from hunter who looks angry

hes also stood a lot further away than anyone else idk if that has any significance

marcy wuz here reference? lol

i do wonder who wrote these bc “there is no titan” doesnt seem very collector-y

“bad word” does tho. also smth abt “kissing ___ grass” and “owls r dumb”

hootys weird vein thingies arent in the door

maybe another grimwalker?? but idk how belos would have the materials

could be beloss hand as he tries to go back into his human form but im not sure

i thought it could be in his cave but theres what i think is a curtain off to the side so maybe not

theyre at hexside now judging by the bg

amity saying oh my titan is rly confusing to me bc the first two shots of her face seem serious but the last seems comedically exaggerated? idk

no idea what she could be looking at to be honest. possibly the twins or smth

we dont know what that glyph is but maybe it has smth to do with the potential grimwalker

is that the cave belos was in in ep12?

the collector has changed the whole town

idk who could be attacking but a puppet is running away in the bg so it could be eda or smth not realising who hunter and willow are

matt i dont approve of the beard

barcus, skara and matt seem very calm but i find that weird. all the teachers have been transformed so i thought the school would be basically unavailable, but they seem to have set up camp there

not sure where they could be here. my first thought was the detention pit just judging by the eyes and claws on the wall but remembering the size of it changed my mind a little

why isnt matt fighting whatever luz and amity are?

camila looks terrified but she did only just get there so

MAJOR REVELATION HERE TO WHOEVERS BOTHERING TO READ ALL THIS- they looked through luzs memories. THEY LOOKED THROUGH LUZS MEMORIES

she looks guilty, matt looks confused and maybe sad and we cant see amitys face but guessing off context and body language shes concerned

again, idk who could be attacking here

seems like not all the students managed to avoid getting puppetified. cat and amelia are off to the side

king looks determined, the collector looks angry in a childish way. im not sure what they could be flying towards

ig king is pretending to side with the collector

we see more of the eyeball cave thing from earlier, and theres what i think is a clear entrance, so i rly dk where this is.

but CAMILA IS FIGHTING 💪💪

the owl beast can take over even when eda is in harpy form?

idk what it is abt this scene but the animation of eda losing it seems different. i think its just the lack of shadows since the lightings behind her

im gonna guess this last scene is what happened right after the hexsquad went through the door

bc theres still chunks of the skull floating and king has no robe

this mustve been before they got the idea of transforming everyone bc if eda got that close and is still fine then yk

king looks very worried but seems like he knows theres basically nothing he can do abt it

thats all ive got for now 🤭🤭

#the owl house #for the future #for the future spoilers

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stingslikeabee · 2 years ago

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It was a strange sight, certainly, and one Okamura hadn't intended for anyone to bear witness to. She was dressed in a matching rose gold - hued nightgown and thin robe. Her lengthy waves were loose, and much of the make - up was gone from her fair face. The heiress was sat on the floor, legs folded and turned to the side ; her bent arms rested on the thighs of the Frump matriarch, who she appeared to be listening to with childish wonder. Grandmama paused her knitting at a break in her words and reached out to cup the girl's chin. For a moment, the old witch thought she could hear a purr from the endearing murderess at her knee.

Ever since the heiress had arrived among them, she seemed to fit in splendidly ( color and clothing preferences aside ). Okamura got along best with Melissa given their proximity to one another these last months -- really, the brunette was the younger woman's closest friend now -- but she held a special fondness in her heart for the Frump matriarch. The way Melissa's mother welcomed her into their family broke through to the heiress so very easily. It was clear Okamura was attached to her and enjoyed the occasional night she spent at Daigo and Melissa's residence.

Okamura was thoroughly lost in the gentle embrace from the elderly witch, sank into the woman's legs with her jewel - tone eyes shining. She failed to notice Melissa in the doorway ( as she could have been for some time ). It was only when Grandmama released her, set her project in her lap, and gestured for Melissa to join them that Okamura realized they were not alone.

A rare bit of color stained the heiress' cheeks. She pulled back sharply and folded her hands into her lap. Even around her dear companion, such open affection was still difficult to share that suddenly.

"Your mother," Okamura began, neglecting the familiar Mama for the time being, "was telling me more about the gifts the women in your bloodline have. -- it sounds incredible, monaka. To be a Frump." Okamura sighed playfully, canting her head. "How does it feel? to have access to magic like that, Melissa?"

unscripted asks . always accepting

Melissa had decided to walk around the house in hopes to soothe the rather agitated babies, hand over the growing belly where her twins were getting closer to their birth with each passing day. There was no doubt in the witch’s mind regarding her pregnancy - the Frump twins of that generation would soon arrive, and the brunette knew all would be well. It was difficult to put into words - even to Daigo - how she felt; it was as if Hecate herself had opened a direct link to the mortal blessed with such task.

The woman decided to go to her mother, then - not because she needed help with anything (it helped not being the first time with child, after all), but because Eudora had also carried Morticia and Melissa once; surely the experience had been similar. Perhaps the oldest witch in the house would know how to better convey her thoughts and impressions to her husband, but the idea of going straight to Eudora was put on hold the moment Melissa crossed the threshold to the bedroom.

Okamura looked like a young, incredibly fascinated girl at the knees of her mother - their bond was unexpected, but not surprising once she had befriended the heiress. Clearly, all Okamura Azumi had lacked was warmth and understanding - things anyone with the name ‘Frump’ or ‘Addams’ provided in abundance. She was a talented con artist, with a sharp mind and a preference for poison that Melissa wholeheartedly appreciated; perhaps the only few things they didn’t see eye to eye on were color palettes and the ideal duration of an engagement.

At the interruption from Eudora herself, Melissa walked into the room - she too had a robe on, albeit entirely black with elaborate designs of spider webs and eight-legged creatures etched onto the silk with silver thread, creating the right illusion for an inattentive mind. Her long hair was braided, a habit she cultivated for sleeping sometimes. Smiling, the younger witched went over the pair and pressed a kiss to the resident grandmother’s temple, finding herself a seat alongside Okamura despite the early stages of her pregnancy - she should enjoy the freedom of movement while it lasted, after all.

But at the blonde’s question, Melissa frowned - and bit her lip, honeyed eyes downcast as if she was searching for an answer. Eventually, she focused her gaze on her friend again, pulling a hand of hers into the two paler, colder of her own. “Mon coeur, please do not take this the wrong way - but it feels absolutely ordinary. I have never been anything but a witch - from the moment I was born until tonight... This is the only life I know and, indeed, one I adore.”

Melissa’s thumb started to move over the back of Okamura’s hand, attempting to inject additional warmth - she hoped the heiress was not disappointed in her frankness. “I know you have not been aware of the life of an outcast for long - but for me, this is all there is. Perhaps if I had married a different man, or had spent time outside with normal humans... Maybe then I would be able to see ourselves in the same light. But as far as we are concerned, we’re normal. Tish and I are no more or less remarkable than anyone else in our family or circles of friends.”

Eudora had paused her work (intended for the twins Melissa was expecting) to watch the two friends chatting, and briefly nodded with a knowing smile. A hand went out to gently tap her own daughter over the head, a gesture from the time the brunette was a small spiderling herself. Chuckling, the witch offered a kiss to her mother in return, moving only her face and pressing lips together in an airy gesture that was a trademark of hers (and Morticia as well).

“You are, by far, the most intriguing and special one, Azumi. All the magic in the world couldn’t make most of our neighbors feel at ease among us and yet you fit here like heavy rain on a funeral,” Melissa winked at Okamura, meaning each and every word, “I know maman agrees - you are one of us, chérie. You may lack the name, but never the attitude.”

#rosegoldandsequins #v: Yakuza ; Addams Family AU #replied #some pretty foreshadowing hehe #also I'm officially keeping Eudora!#I love the sound of the name :)

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rya-rants · 4 months ago

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I just want someone... I don't care if it's fake. I just want the illusion of kindness or comfort that they'd bring. I want someone to tell they care about me and that they're there for me.

Every time I start talking to anyone, my friends come along and mess everything up. Last time they decided, "oh yea let's make shit up" decided to say something about "an incident" that never even fucking happened. No laughs were had everyone went silent and I wasn't even there to defend myself. Lo and behold I never heard from her ever again.

I need better friends but I haven't talk to anyone outside of my friend group in so long that even though I can tell I don't have anything in common with them anymore, I can't talk to new people. And it's not like it would even matter because anything I try to do now is just gonna be forgotten in a fucking month because they'll forget me once I'm gone.

I don't even know if I'll succeed in college because it seems like such a daunting task. My parents and family friends have such high expectations for me even though I'm just a stupid fool who just so happens to like math. I don't even know how the hell I'm gonna pay for college, but that's what everyone wants me to do. Go to college, get a degree, and get a stable job. I don't even know what the hell I want to work as much less what I want to major in.

I just told myself something in math or computers but that something doesn't look any clearer to me than it did 5 years ago. No matter what I do, I don't have the motivation for school, but I still shove myself at it, telling myself that if I don't, then my parents or others will look down on me for being stupid or a failure or want to have nothing to do with me.

I can't talk to my parents because all they know is a Juan who is smart, happy, and knows what he's doing. When in reality I'm wide awake at fucking midnight overthinking everything.

How the hell am I gonna pay for college?

No clue

How the hell am I going to make friends in college?

No clue

Will I be able to keep in touch with friends or will they even want to keep in touch with me?

Probably not

Will I ever find a girlfriend?

Absolutely fucking not

Because no one wants this fat piece of shit who does nothing but laze around. Anytime I have any friendship with anyone, I get too attached, and my parasitic nature doesn't allow me to focus on anyone else only for that person to be creeped out and never talk to me again. Then I feel like a husk.

All I've done all summer is work and try to hang out with people only to find out that they work that day or they are already hanging out with everyone else so coop myself up in my room and try my useless attempts of escapism with books and games with better stories and happier endings where as long as they try their best it works out for them.

The other day, when I finally hung out with a friend, they left early because they were instead going to go spend the night at someone else house.

I thought this summer was gonna be great, but instead, I've been met with disappointment, lack of real friends, and the looming threat that college has felt like and has enveloped me all summer long.

I just want someone to tell me what to do, know it's childish but I just want someone to be there and comfort me and tell me that it's all gonna be fine and that I'm doing all right when I truly am not. I don't care if that person is just a close friend but at the moment it doesn't feel like I even have that, a close friend.

I don't remember the last time I felt the warmth of a genuine hug. I don't remember the last time someone gave me a heartfelt compliment, and I sure as he'll don't remember the last time anyone has told me they loved me, not even my family.

My parents never take me to the doctor so I probably have dozens of things in my brain that shouldn't be there or should be treatable but I'll never fucking know. All I know is that I don't know.

I can't take it

I want something at the end of this tunnel, but there's no end in sight. No light. No reassurance. No assistance. No guidance. No girlfriend. No money. No sanity. No emotions.

I have no outlet to go to with my problems and overthinking thoughts. Only this stupid blog with 1 to now probably 0 people reading it.

My childhood friends abandoned me, my current friends ignore me, and I have no hopes of having future friends.

I just want a real friend.

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hearthtales · 6 months ago

Text

Feldmire listened to Nightshade’s story as well.

It had watched from the shadows as she arrived, hidden in dusty corners and crevices. Nightshade’s appearance was unlucky, but Feld didn’t worry too much — even when she stumbled upon the loophole in its deal with Maude, and even when Maude failed to stop her. What could this girl possibly do to ruin its success? How could she wake Samhain when Feld had entangled him in the dream so thoroughly?

Samhain’s dream had exceeded its expectations and eased the constant hunger that gnawed within the creature. It had replenished Feld’s energy, renewed its confidence. Feld floated in a sea of satisfaction.

It still followed the girl, its curiosity too strong to resist. It slipped behind a wall in Samhain’s room (it was so easy now, with that pesky barrier gone) and watched through a crack as Nightshade tried to wake him. When she placed a silly little pouch in his hands, the creature stifled a snort of derision. It had no idea what the pouch held or what purpose it served, but it seemed foolish to give a gift to someone who would never wake up. Why didn’t she keep it for herself?

The girl talked on and on. By the time she switched the topic to desserts, Feld’s interest had waned into boredom. So it left. It drifted lazily away, through the pipes and insulation, up into the attic. It curled itself on the seat of a tattered armchair, basking in a spot of sunshine like an especially unpleasant cat.

Surely the girl would give up soon. Maybe she’d take a nap before she left, and it would taste her dreams as well, but Feld didn’t find her presence nearly as appetizing as Samhain’s. It doubted her dreams carried the same delicious blend of melancholy.

For now, it savored its victory and amused itself by imagining what trinket it might turn Samhain into.

—

Nightshade described memories and rambled about desserts, and always, always, she spoke as though she were addressing someone. Someone important in all her stories. She wasn’t talking to herself, Bran realized, the truth slowly dawning on him and dread twisting its way into his throat. She was talking to…

Samhain.

He was still there. He’d never left; he was simply trapped asleep. Feld had gotten to him. Which meant Maude had lied to Bran when he’d found her that morning and asked if Samhain had left yet, because Maude always knew which guests Feld captured.

The unfairness of everything crashed down on Bran, heavy and overwhelming. Trembling, he slid down the wall to sit on the floor. His breathing wavered, so he pressed the back of his hand against his mouth to muffle it. His eyes stung, so he squeezed them shut.

He knew he was acting childish. He knew he should have expected this to happen. Why had he thought Samhain would be different? He needed to compose himself, enter the room, and gently tell the girl that her friend wouldn’t wake up, no matter how many stories she told him. He needed to apologize to her, because in the end, all the fault rested upon him.

He needed to get up, at least. But for some reason, he couldn’t. He stayed there instead, just outside Samhain’s door, and willed himself not to cry.

—

The dream went fuzzy around its edges. Leaves and flowers blurred together like watercolors.

Liore, the dream’s heartbeat, stayed strong for now. She clung to life even as other parts of the illusion faded. Nothing softened the immediate impact of Samhain’s words. Her breath faltered, and betrayal and confusion flitted vividly across her face.

“Let me go?” she echoed softly, her tone laced with hurt. “What do you…?” Her words trailed off, and she lowered her hand from his cheek, but she didn’t let go of his hand. “I… I don’t understand, love.” She was trying to understand, though — it showed in her faint frown, her creased brow, the way she searched his gaze desperately for clues. If she noticed the change in his eye color, she showed no sign of it. Her voice wavered slightly. “Have I done something wrong?”

Sam accepted the aster behind his ear with a soft hum, before taking her hand and kissing it with a smile. "Ah'm all right, love. Guess ah was just hearing things."

Upon Liore's suggestion, they took a break from gathering firewood and strolled leisurely through the wood; their hands always locked together like a promise. It was a beautiful spring day. Flowers were in full bloom, the bees and butterflies were a-fluttering in the green everywhere they turned. They took idle steps, one after another, as they chatted and laughed and reminisced under the timeless, blue sky. "Remember when ah was ill in bed an' Granda brought you over an' ye both cooked that hare stew for me?" Liore chortled, now comfortable with referring to Aed as her own family having taken care of her since her mathair passed.

"How could ah forget? Never thought ah'd get an earful just for choppin' carrots wrong," Sam groaned at the memory, which only made Liore laugh harder.

"Ah was just thinkin' o'how that was the tastiest stew ah ever had. When are you goin' to cook it for me again?"

"If you just wanted me to make you hare stew, ye just 'ad to ask, love," Sam chuckled back, pecking her on the forehead. "All right, ah'll make it. But you'll 'ave to make me apple crumble in return."

"Apple... crumble?"

A soft ripple could be felt all throughout the dreaming.

The two stopped in their tracks and in that moment, it also felt as if time had stopped with them. Sam turned to Liore in a lightheaded daze and she was still smiling sweetly when she asked "What's that, Sammy?"

"Ah, you know, it's like a pie but.. not? You've made it before, remember?" Sam tried to explain but Liore shook her head.

"No, ah don't even know what that is. Ah know apples.."

"Yes! You said the best apple crumbles were made with green apples, not red ones..! Remember? Because..! Because..." The words trailed off as Sam's expression hardened. The thunder was getting louder.

—

"—because red apples get waaaay too mushy after you bake them, but green apples are sturdier! They keep a bit of crunch even after they come outta the oven!" Nightshade had moved away from exploring recent memories to rambling about their favorite desserts together. She remembered Samhain really liked the crumble she made last time and unlike her, who loved it with vanilla ice-cream, Samhain preferred to eat his plain. "An' since ya don't like sweet things, green apples are perfect cus they're kinda sour an' less sweet than the red ones!"

Suddenly, Samhain's hand twitched and gripped the dream-draught tighter. Nightshade perked up at the reaction, wide-eyed and hopeful, since it'd been the first and only sign since she sat by his side. She still hadn't noticed the bedroom door was open nor the eavesdropping figure just beyond it.

"C'mon Sammy..! If you wake up, I'll make you an apple crumble when we get home.." she whispered, holding her hands together, praying she was getting through to him somehow. "Please, please, please wake up..!"

—

Sam looked down at his free hand and realized he'd been holding something very tightly - a little cotton pouch with rainbow-colored thread woven into the draw-strings. He recognized the craftsmanship. The scent of magick was familiar to him. He knew the contents within, what the charm was for. Mallow. Orange blossom. Rosemary...

"Sammy?" The voice broke him out of the trance. He turned to Liore again but this time, smiling sadly. Liore noticed the change in him and worry took over her, her other hand reaching out to cup his face. "..Sammy, what's wrong?"

"Ah'm sorry, love..." He shook his head, closing his eyes and leaning into her touch. He took a deep breath and exhaled, his body no longer tense like it was a few minutes ago. "..It's been wonderful but," When he opened his eyes again, they were a deep shade of green.

"..Ah have to let you go."

#thesundowncrew #(GOSH MY HEART AAAAAAA)#(this got so long i’m just agdgdgdg)#(yelling!!)#(feld is way too pleased with itself and very much underestimating nightshade and her dream draught!!)#(meanwhile bran is struggling…..)#(but yes like!! the apple crumble memory!! and sam realizing it’s a dream!! YELLS!!!!!)#(i’m going to cry agdgd)#|༄| threads #|��| feldmire #|✧| bran #|༄| ic #long post //

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clarchive · 9 months ago

Note

He’s not much for the celebration of holiday — not even his birthday. Why celebrate life and love when such trivialities are taken away from him each and every day? And yet, Kishibe extends invitation to accompany him out for a nice dinner at that restaurant she mentioned once, with a couple of drinks shared to help wash it down afterwards. He’ll say that it’s nothing, that the day of valentines and their date just so happened to coincide with one another, despite them both knowing that it’s deliberate. He won’t admit it aloud, won’t jinx it, but with the fourth division disbanded and with Maven still at his side, he finally has something worth celebrating. He steals his cigarette back from her, not giving her a chance to expel the smoke before he leans in to meet her lips.

It all feels strange, this new Makima-less land that they're occupying. The red bottoms that she wear aren't made for comfort; they're not her favorite and by the end of the night, she'll have sore feet for her efforts, but that's not what it's about. It's about the illusion of power that it gives her, the illusion of sexiness that it adds along with the tight fitting black dress. It's that time of the year where it has sleeve, but still. The simple necklace she wears accents her collarbones and the front of her chest. Eyes dart over toward Kishibe all evening; she won't bring it up, doesn't dare to. No, it's rare for him to invite her out on dates unless they're out of the country. She gets it; there's too much at stake, too many ears listening, too many times that someone can be used against him. Maven's never fought him on it. She understands. It doesn't mean that it doesn't nag at the back of her mind though –– it would for anyone, and they'd be foolish to claim otherwise.

But this resturaunt is expensive as hell, one that's been off her lips before. Just in passing conversation –– after all, new places pop up all the time. She had never expected to actually be inside the place, let alone divulging in the food that she has. Not to mention the alcohol that makes it all go down easier as well. It makes her lips looser, her smiles more real. It makes her more into the person he knows versus what she's had to be for so long. She makes a toast to their victory. Smiles like this is actually a date. Like maybe if she squints she can pretend that it was for the holiday that she never really cared about before.

But when he leans in and his lips meet hers, the smoke still stuck in her mouth, she feels her heart leap up to meet the notion. Kishibe has never once kissed her in public. He has barely touched her in public. And now he's kissing her, her eyes fluttering shut, her fingers reaching up to grip at the back of his neck. They brush against his undercut, and she opens her mouth obidiently, breathing the smoke down into his lungs. It makes something rise up in her, a warmth that she hadn't known that she truly needed until then. It feels like rebirth. Like they can finally do whatever they want because they can. No one is looking at them, dictating their moves. Division four is gone –– Makima is gone.

And when he pulls back, she doesn't let him go far; blue eyes blinking open for a moment as a slight smile settles onto her features. Her heart aches in her chest –– she told herself not to do this to herself. Told herself to not get attached. But damn it, she knows that she would do anything for him. That she would run to the edges of the world hunting devils if he asked it of her.

" You kiss all girls like that? " Her voice is full of jest, but her eyes are saying what she isn't, are speaking between the lines: you chose me. It feels foolish, childish even, to want to celebrate that fact. That all this time that she has spent in his bed has meant something. But she just smiles and kisses him again, reckless abandon coursing in her veins. She thinks she'll never get over the taste of alcohol that clings to his very being. She thinks she'll never ease away from the tobacco that clings to his skin.

She thinks that maybe after all, she won't get over her partner so easily.

#killedarlings #i'm really emotional about them wtf #〈 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐛𝐨𝐱. 〉 cleaning out the cobwebs — ⌜ answered. ⌟

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erabundus · 2 years ago

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@momijiba &&. said... he said it was ok to kiss him, but even so, why was it so difficult for him to go through with it? like why was it taking him so long, he could have done it by now and then they could have moved on. he didn't know it was just … that he was feeling incredibly nervous even if this was such an innocent act of showing his feelings for ren.

after what felt like hours but might have been only minutes he grabbed ren's kase and tilted it upwards to the back a little so he could have easier access. swallowing his nerves away he leaned forward and was getting so close that they would almost share a breath.

his nerves were coming back tenfold and instead of pulling away completely he changed direction and pushed ren's bangs to the side. opening up his forehead had no blemishes at all and was very inviting for kazuha's lips. and he took that invite and pressed his lips against the soft warm skin.

ren had been kissed many times before — a simple gesture, not entirely unpleasant when done on HIS TERMS. he was a creature wracked with eternal hunger, to fill a void that ached and ached and ached within him. though the wanderer once deluded himself into believing a gnosis was the miserable puzzle piece that would render him whole, he had occasionally sought other avenues to ease the yearning etched into his very being. it hadn't worked — and in time, he slowly grew disinterested in the practice altogether. a kiss was just a kiss; nothing special about it. nothing to set it apart from the myriad of other inconsequential, human gestures beyond the illusion of importance placed upon it by fanciful mortals.

... so why did he feel so NERVOUS? ( him, falling prey to such mundane anxieties? ) it wasn't even the first time they kissed; they had gone further beneath an alcohol-fueled haze. this was stupid. this fear, this uncertainty, it was all utterly devoid of sense — why couldn't he SHAKE it?

the silence was quickly becoming unbearable the longer it dragged, even by his standards. ❝ well? ❞ ren finally asked, crossing his arms — to keep his hands OCCUPIED, if nothing else. ( the last thing he wanted was to be caught fidgeting. how childish. ) ❝ i already said it was fine. ❞ the wanderer arched a brow, laughing softly beneath faux-breath. ❝ don't tell me you've lost your NERVE. if you keep me waiting for much longer, i may just take matters into my own hands. ❞ the jabs lacked any real bite; nothing more than the nervous ramblings of one trying to keep a veneer of composure. an illusion that was quickly dispelled, when kazuha reached for his hat.

he closed his eyes, twisting fistfuls of his sleeves in either hand. he felt so exposed, so disgustingly vulnerable without it — yet in the same breath, some part of him seemed to yearn for this. to be seen, to be stripped of that which one used to conceal the most horrid parts of themself and be accepted nevertheless ... it sounded too good to be true.

the gentle touch dragging through his hair took him by surprise — and ren had to consciously stop himself from LEANING greedily into it. he waited, patiently, to see what the human would do. before long, there was a press of familiar lips, warm and loving and tender and it was almost too much. like something inside of him threatened to break, shatter, crumble beyond repair — not from being treated roughly, but rather its ANTITHESIS.

❝ ... ❞ this was what he meant by a kiss? how sweet. how torturous. he thought he might die. he wanted more.

#momijiba #( i. i just remembered i had this half finished in my drafts. before the. the shenanigans. )

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lausticzt-a · 5 months ago

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They say the aftermath is the hardest when reality hits in the dead of silence. So much to process ... the relief, the tragedy and heartache, the loss and victories won. It could leave you feeling numb. But unlike battles of the past, this was different. You had to pick yourself up because there was still fights to be had, one battle finished in an onslaught of war; you could only grieve for so long, before you had to push through those feelings and carry on.

Now, nothing remained. It was over and the world seemed to go still. Those feelings that were kept at bay for so long would come crashing down when the numbness began to subside (if it ever would) and for the horrors they witnessed for so, so long to be gone, just like that, still felt unreal / obscure. A normality that felt so foreign and far from reach, finally here.

Only twice can she recall herself breaking down into tears. The first still felt like a dream, so far removed from her mind (it was protecting her from experiencing it again, to never put herself back into that memory) / like she was dying, but no death would await her. An agonising hell. She know she must have screamed for a long time. How she'd found the energy in her condition, she wasn't sure ... she'd finally broke. The first time she had truly hated herself, belittled herself, cursed her very existence; would see herself as a failure to this world / as a mother (she had no right for that title, it was never hers to own).

I'm not gonna die yet. Laura is silent as she watches him. Back then, the fire in her had died. She shackled herself back to restraints she had broken free from, told herself the only way for humanity to survive was inside the walls -- that fighting would lead to disaster. Never any progress, only idiots like her who believed they could fight the world itself. Selfish, that they'd doom everyone for their own gain, their own sense of justice / that, like her, they believed themselves to be something they were not. She despised them, because seeing them, seeing that symbol, would always remind her of her failures ⸻ of how weak she was. They held the hope that had tormented her for months as she lay in that bed, no better then dead. She wanted to hate them because of how drawn to them she still was / she viewed herself as childish, that she had to wake up from that selfish desire, and do what was right for once.

Her gaze silently drifts away. In thought, a part of her wonders if it was Hange here, she'd say the right things ... Laura was probably the worst person for comfort, she would always claim to herself. She doesn't know if she can do that. But, she doesn't want to change that either / refuses to leave his side. She wants to be here, to be there for him.

❝ You saw them, right? ❞ Her words are soft, gaze removed as she's lost in thought. The memories of those they lost, so fleeting it felt like a dream / an illusion. Laura had wished to believe that there was no one watches them, that the fallen were gone. Maybe they were never there to begin with ... but even she can't refuse it, doesn't want to. Because for her seeing the remnants of those she'd once held love, the few soldiers, no, people she could of called friends ... to see him too ... had been the final closure ; the second time she couldn't stop the tears, no matter how hard she tried.

❝ I never wanted to believe the dead could be watching us. It was implausible anyway ... If I blocked out the memories of them, then they never existed. I just never wanted to face them again. If they could still see me ... I knew they'd be disappointed, that they'd hate me. ❞ She can't stop herself from talking, but she never falls to melancholy ; there's a contentment in her soft expression, admittance to things she'd never voice out loud, nor to herself. In the end despite everything, she can be proud of where it led her. That she had made the right choice, after years of being blinded by regret.

❝ I don't want to forget. I won't. Living now, it keeps their memories alive. That's what it means to be alive as a Survey Corp solider, right? ❞ She would never forget. Not anymore. For everything she'd pushed away, ignored, to all the things she couldn't deal with but could never admit to. She had no right to call herself a member of the Survey Corp. But she would keep the memories of those dear to her as who she was now was someone different displaced from all roles in her life up until now.

❝ Still .. I don't want you to be someone I have to remember. ❞ She meets his gaze again. A man who continued to promise the world, even now ... Laura is not one to ask for such a thing. There is no choice for him. She had decided that. He wouldn't die because she wouldn't allow it. However selfish it was she had never shied away from her nature.

There's a pause. Everything she had kept to herself, a fear of saying it of acknowledging the way she felt. It's just them now. Only the two of them. No more fear. No more regret. Still in thought as her expression softens.

❝ I never thanked you. ❞ And there it was, from all her bark, the turbulence of their bond, the fighting, the opposing ends, pain, and understanding, and stubbornness ... does he understand, through all his crudeness, the determination in his strength, what the inspired to people, what his words did for her every time, no matter how infuriating as he bypassed every wall she could conjure up so she didn't have to face herself.

Lips curl into a small smile. Tired of safe guarding, of keeping any icy appearance, it all but died since the final battle. ❝ For saving me. For helping me get to where I am now. Thank you, for helping me live a life I can be proud of. ❞ He never pulled his words, so upfront it would always throw her back so honest in a world of façade that she once grew up with. She's here, because there is no where else she would rather be. ❝ Levi. Thank you. ❞ because she'd never spoke truer words.

Maybe there’s no such thing as freedom. It was freedom Eren sought, and his chase had been his downfall. It was freedom, Levi had chosen to fight for — the freedom of others. Arrogantly he had believed to be free. A life absent of any hope or dreams he had chosen for himself, believing it was the only way for one to survive in the merciless world they lived in. The dreams of others he’d serve instead, a purpose greater than any future he ever dreamt for himself. But when all reason to fight was gone, when everyone had left, what was left for him? Nothing. Kenny was right from the start. He was no different. A slave. His denial to believe, to hope for a future, to hurt, had brought him before a lifetime he didn’t know what to do with.

He’s been there before. He was familiar with such DESPAIR. Many years ago, when he’d sit by the side of her rotting corpse — his mother’s, alone in the darkness, in absolute silence. Helpless, powerless, to control his life, to change the past, to protect what was precious to him. People didn’t actually change or grow. That child, with no will left to live, had come to pay him a visit, now that his vulnerability had resurfaced. Hadn’t he killed him, buried his corpse somewhere deep inside? That child had grown curious: what was next, when everyone was gone? Could one heal, after breaking over and over again? When shattered countless times, how could one collect their pieces? If there wasn’t enough left of him to put back together?

He hadn’t the answers. An old fool, who hadn’t learnt anything. Was hope, or the lack of, to have ruined him? Maybe there wasn’t a wrong, or a right way to live. Maybe it didn't matter if there was a meaning or not. Maybe, he was meant to ache. For the hope the existence of that boy had brought, for the freedom that resided within Eren, and Levi had a duty to kill.

It was silent, in a way he didn’t want it to be. The suffocating kind of silence, as if laying at the bottom of a lake, where sound wouldn’t reach. He was still drowning. For once, he didn’t find any comfort in it, in being left with his thoughts. For once, he didn’t want to think, as if his mind was intoxicated, and the poison was threatening to advance further. Because silence indicated absence. The absence of everyone they’ve lost, everyone he had sacrificed, to keep advancing forward, for the ridiculous dream of peace to finally come true. ❝ I see . . . ❞

She was different. The look in her eyes, her words of concern. She wouldn’t resist him any longer, she wouldn’t hide from him, she wouldn’t RUN — in fear of being held back, captured, in fear he’d catch a glimpse of who she truly was. She had stayed. Her heart in plain sight, her defenses lowered, as if to match him, since he couldn’t any longer wear his armor — had to take it off, for all injuries to heal. She was supposed to despise him, wasn't she? For she despised weakness, her weakness. And he had made himself weak, someone she'd worry for, someone she'd fear losing.

She had been in his place before. He knew. Broken, beyond repair. They were the same. Wrong. They weren't. She had made sure of that. Because he wasn't alone. She had stayed, when there was nobody by her side when she lost everything. She had faced all the heartache and agony on her own, yet she sat by his bedside to make sure he wouldn't. He had long recognized the kindness within her, yet to become a witness was an extraordinary sight. To see her change form, was a sight he couldn't look away from. She'd change, and so would their bond.

Their bond had taken many different shapes throughout the years. Once loose, kept at distance, sometimes tight, to a comforting closeness. Resentment, understanding, fury, concern, fear. Rebuilt a thousand times, on different foundations each time. Chasing each other in circles, when running away from themselves, from one another. ❝ I'm not gonna die yet. ❞ A promise he didn't know if he could keep ( another promise he made with such ease ), but he'd certainly try. You don't have to worry. An instinctual response, brushing off her feelings of concern. He had to hold himself back from saying that, keeping her at distance once again. He was one to resist change after all, even if the first to adapt when necessary.

A long pause followed. His eyes, holding a silent request. Distract him. Now, that she had stayed behind for him, after trying to escape him for long, he was the one who'd have to learn to exist in one place, instead of chasing their shadows, their dying wishes. He was the one, who'd have to learn to live again. He always trusted her, but he didn't want to be trusted, yet now, he'd have to learn all over again the anguish of having someone worth losing.

#ℒ ༺ ☾⋆* interaction. ✧. ┊ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭LE ROSSIGNOL ◞#ℒ ༺ ☾⋆* v03. ✧. ┊ ⁭ ⁭ THE WORLD THEY SAW ﹕ post war. ◞#naitfall #(ANYWAY-)#(Laura took the fuck over when I was writing this so I guess she wants to be SOFT)#(crying now so-)

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fairyofjaeyun · 2 years ago

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s j y ➳ stupid puppy ꨄ

[3:17] now playing: maneater - nelly furtado

[warning] punishment, edging, choking, puppy kink, ma’am kink, degrading, hair pulling, mention of a safeword, very light and very brief cbt/ballbusting, footjob, mommy kink, facesitting, unprotected sex (this is fiction please use protection irl), cumplay/cumeating, jake and jay having terrible communication skills, lowkey fuckboy!jake, college au (ft. jay and heeseung)

1st person // 3.9k words // pt.2 // pt.3

[a/n] here it is, what you’ve all been waiting for! enjoy because I certainly did writing this ;)

⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙ ⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

jake sim. he was quite the topic around campus. usually for his good looks or his enchanting accent. although, due to our polar opposite schedules and the colossal size of the campus, we never crossed paths.

at least not physically. his name floats out of jay’s mouth quite often around me, and I’m sure jake could say the same about mine. I’m not sure what jay was plotting—he never brought up heeseung’s or jungwon’s name as randomly, even though I’ve met them—but he wasn’t doing a fantastic job at being mysterious about it.

“you know, jake is such a messy roommate,” said jay after taking a quick sip of his coffee. randomly. frequently jay crashes at jake’s apartment in order to help him separate his college life and his personal life. and to also get away from heeseung, his dorm mate. “that reminds me, he invited me to his apartment this weekend and I was wondering if you’d like to come?”

see what I mean?

I watch him take another sip of coffee through the thin, black straw, his eyes slightly squinting from the sunshine pouring on us as we sat outside the coffee shop. finally, I said, “why though? I’ve never even met him and I don’t want to intrude on your bro time.”

jay rolls his eyes and I can’t help but chuckle. “we have bro time all the time. I just thought that maybe, y’know, since you haven’t gone out much recently and—“ he takes one good look at my quizzical state and his bullshit is derailed. “OH FINE! jake really wants to meet you. there!” he leans back and folds his arms, defeatedly.

“what?” is the first thing I say before I could even think. “why didn’t you just tell me straight up?” again, I laugh, because it all seemed so childish. as if we were passing notes with yes and no checkboxes.

“well…” jay starts, twisting his face a little, which starts to worry me. “he’s a bit shy.”

another lie. one so bad that I nearly wheezed. “shy?” I said through my laughter. “jake sim, shy? we both know that jake has no problem approaching anybody, especially women.” jake isn’t exactly a fuckboy, or at least that’s what I’ve heard, but he’s known to be a huge flirt. always unnecessarily brushing back that silky brown hair of his and licking those plump lips. I don’t know, but that sounds like fuckboy behavior to me.

extra defeated, jay sighs, “y/n, just come. I mean it’s not like you got anything better to do.” I honestly couldn’t argue with him there. I don’t consider myself a homebody but my bed is pretty comfy, especially on the weekends.

I groaned and finally surrendered, “ugh, fine!”

jay says nothing, just smiles and sips victoriously at his damn coffee.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

now I don’t want to say that I was nervous meeting jake��THE y/n obviously never gets nervous—but my hands were a little sweaty and my leg was bouncing pretty much throughout most of the car ride. I know jay noticed, but he didn’t dare say anything. he knew I’d give him a mouthful.

luckily (or maybe not), the ride wasn’t long at all. my guess was around 15 minutes. however, time is an illusion and felt both like 5 minutes and 5 hours, especially since jay didn’t say much. he let the music, and the gps lady who kept rudely interrupting, do all the talking.

he doesn’t say anything until we’ve pulled up in front of jake’s apartment building. “we’re here,” he says while pulling the gearshift to park. if I was in my normal headspace I’d say something snappy like ‘obviously’ or ‘no shit,’ but my mind was too preoccupied with jake. I tried to piece together all the information that I knew about him, either from jay or others—his luscious dark brown hair that remained perfect even after he combed his hands through it a dozen times, perfect glass skin that shined in all the right places, plump lips that were often wet from his constant licking, his kind and compassionate heart that contradicted his flirty exterior. I tried to piece all of that together to make a face, a body, a person, but my mind’s eye could have never guessed who he truly was.

I follow jay out the car and I noticed that he seemed just as nervous as me as he nearly fumbled his keys when trying to lock his car. I let out a laugh that quickly lifts the tension and brings us back to our goofy selves. “you saw nothing.”

I let jay lead the way towards the building and up the two flights of stairs until he stops at the black door on the far right, and three knocks later I finally see him.

The first thing I notice, which might be cheesy as fuck, is his smile. it was so bright and pure, like he was genuinely happy to see us, and his sparkly eyes confirmed that. then, I see that his hair isn’t as dark as I pictured it. it had more of a reddish tone and reminded me of a rusted penny. he wore a white shirt with a dark blue button up over it that looked to be made of denim. and before I get the chance to look at his pants he says, “hey,” in that thick aussie accent. it felt weird to actually hear it in person. jay greets him back and I wave, and even though I didn’t speak his attention turned towards me. It seemed that he was doing the same thing I was a moment ago, analyzing me.

in order not to come off as creepy or awkward, I assume, jake steps aside from the door and invites us in. from first glance, jake didn’t seem as messy as jay swore he was. I was half-expecting clothes and empty cans to be all over the place but the living room was nearly sparkling.

once again, before my mind could completely process everything, jake steps in front of me and extends his hand towards me. “it’s a pleasure to meet you, I’m jake.” oh, trust me. I know.

I laugh. not just because of his adorable smile that crinkled his eyes and smile lines, but also because he greeted me as if I was the queen of england or something. “y/n,” I reply and shake his hand firmly. his hands were soft. not alarmingly soft, but enough to know that he took care of himself.

after I let go, jake then motions that same arm towards the living room area and says, “make yourself at home.” don’t mind if I do I think to myself as I head for the decent sized leather couch. in front of it was a small glass coffee table that had the tv remote and a couple empty red solo cups. the tv, which I guessed to be about 40 inches, was mounted on the wall.

“would you like something to drink?” jake asks me as he collects the empty cups, his ears noticeably red. “we got lemonade, coke, water,” he adds, and I go with lemonade and jay requests a coke before plopping down next to me.

then rest of the day carried on like normal. seriously. the awkwardness literally faded away from there on out. we talked and joked as if we’ve been hanging out forever.

in all honesty, I was half-expecting for jake to make a move, but he didn’t. whether it was because jay was there or because I was already over analyzing how he felt about me, I’m not sure.

I would get my answer soon enough, though.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

fast forward a couple weeks later, jake and I have been texting each other pretty much on a daily basis. since it’s been finals season in addition to having completely different schedules, we hadn’t had the opportunity to hang out again until today.

now you might be wondering if I’ve forgotten or shoved aside that whole weird wingman act jay did that had me meet jake in the first place. absolutely not. I went along with it, trying to act oblivious.

jake wasn’t flirty in the very beginning, he waited to about a week after meeting to call me pretty. week two he got adventurous and called me baby and princess, which I shut down immediately by telling him that those names won’t charm me and he’s going to have to do better than that. to which he replied, “yes, ma’am,” which I’ll admit did make my stomach flutter a bit. just a little bit tho.

I debated with myself if I was going to tell him that I’m dominant. he does a great job of coming off as dominant as possible and it’s quite fun to act dumb, but on the other hand I can’t help imagining him on his knees, looking up at me and saying ‘yes, ma’am’ to my every command.

by the time the day had come for us to hang out at jake’s apartment again, I had made my mind. that same bright smile he gave me as he opened the door only confirmed my decision.

his outfit today was very simple and cozy; a beige hoodie with black jeans, and he looked nice. his hair was still parted in the middle and looked a tad longer than it was last time I saw him. his bangs were now well past his eyebrows.

“hey, you look great,” I haven’t even gone past the door and he’s already complimenting me, as he should though because he wasn’t wrong. I was wearing a dark red cami with black lace underneath a black zip up hoodie and with black jeans. I also put on black eyeliner and a dark red lip stain to put it all together.

“why, thank you,” I said coyly, waving my hand at him. he chuckles and invites me in. I kick off my shoes and scanned around the living room for jay but he was nowhere to be found. “is jay not here yet?” I ask, and jake hesitates for a slight moment.

“oh nahhh,” he says. “he had last minute work to catch up on.”

‘then why didn’t he tell me?’ is what I wanted to say, but again, I acted oblivious. “ah, what a shame.”

“yeah, but don’t worry, we’ll have just as much fun. you hungry?”

“starving.”

i followed him into the kitchen as he lists the numerous snacks he had, including his secret stash he kept hidden from jay or any other of his friends who come over. “then maybe we can order something,” he adds after he realizes he didn’t have anything that could pass for a meal.

“sounds good. I’ll take a rice krispy.” he throws me a m&m rice krispy treat, then pulls up a delivery app on his phone. we settle on a local mexican restaurant and once he orders it and tells me it will arrive in an hour, I start my attack. “y’know,” I start, then crumple the left over wrapper and toss it in the bin. “I feel like you’re not telling me something.”

his adam’s apple jumps. “w-what do you mean?”

“I played dumb, but I noticed jay trying to get us together, you flirting with me. I bet jay doesn’t even have any work to do right now.”

by now his face is flushed and I could practically see him trying to scrabble his mind for excuses. “I-” he starts, and I walk closer to him, trapping him between me and the kitchen counter.

“you what?” I challenge, staring him down.

“I was interested in you but,” he pauses and his eyes flicker, “I found out about your… type, and I wanted to see if I could, I guess, change it? heeseung told me.” heeseung.

my mind instantly goes back to the night I snuck him on my bed. his face against my pillow and his bare back arched towards me as I pounded him. his back muscles tensed everytime I hit his spot, and he barely tried to lower his girlish moans and whimpers or his constant ‘oh yes’s and ‘oh fuck’s.’

then I start to become furious. “do you know how silly that sounds?” I ask, rhetorically. “you really thought you could change me, dominate me, but look at you. you look like a sorry puppy.”

I knew that set something off inside of him. I didn’t know what it was at the time, but I saw what I know recognize as lust start to pool in his eyes and his jaw go slack. then he swallows and finally says, “I’m sorry.” and before I could shit on his lousy apology he adds, “I’m really sorry. I should of never tried to change you, you just ended up changing me.”

I raised my eyebrow at him because I had no idea what he meant by that. but then he grabs my wrist and guides my hand to his neck. momentarily, I let my hand hang loosely around him as I get over the initial shock. however, it doesn’t take too long for me to start squeezing and jake throws his back and let’s his eyes close.

“look at you,” I chuckle darkly, “I bet you planned to have me bent over, but here I am choking you, and you like it.” he moans, and I choke him harder.

I then let my hand palm his jeans. he moans and raises his hips to meet my hand. I rub my fingers along his boner and my other hand releases his neck. he takes a deep inhale and then watches me tease him.

“please,” he whines, raising his hips again.

“do you really think you deserve it?” I asked, coldly.

“no ma’am. I’ve been a bad puppy.”

my eyes widen, instantly. never would I have thought that jake sim would ever say anything like that, and by the looks of his flushed cheeks and nervous eyes, I could tell he didn’t either.

I smirk and place my arms on the counter behind him, now leaning against his body. he whimpers as his dick rubs against my thigh and he’s basically begging for me with those puppy eyes of his, but I don’t plan to give him any release anytime soon. “then you should be punished,” I say, lowly.

to which he replies, “yes, ma’am. punish me,” in the most desperate tone I’ve ever heard. I push myself back off the counter and pull him by one of his belt straps. “where to?”

he leads me to his bedroom, which is pretty basic. he had white wooden furniture and the only decorations I could see where pictures of his family and his dog, but I didn’t look around long at all. once I closed the door I commanded him to strip. he does so with ease, although his hands were noticeably shaky. he starts with his hoodie, which coincidentally has no shirt underneath. his abdomen and arms are perfectly toned, a perfect canvas for some marks. next, he slides his jeans and briefs down his legs in a quick motion, and when he straightens up his dick is standing tall. precum is oozing and dripping down his red tip, and his shaft is thick and veiny.

“you look so good,” I compliment him. “too bad you’ve been a naughty puppy. on your knees.” jake doesn’t question me and does as he’s told. he sits on his feet and places his hands on his thighs on either side of his leaking cock. he looks up with those charming eyes, his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

“don’t be too mean,” he whines, using his best puppy eyes to persuade me.

unfortunately, it doesn’t work for him. “bit too late for that now. safeword?” I ask him and it only takes him a second to come up with one, “soccer.”

I unzipped my hoodie and threw it on the edge of his bed. the heat from my stomach and my core was becoming too much and I could already feel my underwear getting soaked, yet I kept the rest of my clothes on for the time being. jake still needed to be broken.

I grab a fistful of his soft hair and yank his head upward, earning a hiss and small whine in response. he liked that. a deep groan confirms it after another experimental tug. “who would’ve thought you were such a painslut,” I smirk, and it seems like jake almost shrinks in embarrassment. “what would jay and heeseung think? I wonder if you made a bet with either of them.”

immediately, he shakes his head the best he could with my fingers still tangled in his hair, “no, ma’am. there was no bet. I just wanted you so bad.” his confession takes me a little by surprise. I never thought he’d be so needy. turns out under that fuckboy persona of his, he was just a desperate slut. how cute.

“well, you’re going to have to work for me.” I remove my hand from his hair and place it on his cheek. “now be a good puppy.” after another cute ‘yes ma’am,’ I step back and return my gaze onto his neglected boner. he’s done a great job keeping his hands off so I lift my foot and rub his swollen tip against my sock. jake moans and ruts his hips against me. I lightly kick his shaft as a warning, “sit still.” he yelps and bites his lip. his hands are now fists on top of his thighs as he fights the urge to grind against my foot.

I continue teasing his dick until I feel his precum leaking through my sock. meanwhile, jake is making all kind of unholy noises and eventually leans back on his palms so I could tease his whole length and his balls. “please, please, please,” he begs to no avail. it just results in me ordering him to take off my now stained socks.

then I figured it was time to move onto his bed. my desire to straddle him was growing by the second. as he gets on his bed, I strip off my jeans and let them sit near my socks on the floor. my panties were now completely soaked with a huge wet patch (which wasn’t as noticeable since the panties I wore today were black). I catch jake staring at them as I climb next him, quickly swiping his tongue along his lips, which urges me to kiss him. his lips are so hungry and practically chase mine as I slide my hand down his chest. his body is hot to touch and I feel the swear start to form on his skin as he tenses up from my touch.

his eyes are still closed when I pull away, wanting more. I turn my attention back towards his dick and finally I wrap my hand around it. he’s still dripping with precum and I gather it all up by rubbing my thumb over his slit. he’s so close, he’s basically moaning in my ear. more desperate pleas leave his chewed lips as I rub his slit. I silence him by bringing my wet thumb to his mouth. he gladly parts his lips and let’s his tongue lap at his juices with half-lidded eyes. “there you go,” I praise.

at this point, my insides were melting because of how turned on I was. I needed to be on top of him now, and that’s exactly what I did next. I balanced myself on his shoulders and lean down for another quick kiss on his lips then trailing off to his jaw and his neck. jake shivers beneath me and grabs onto my hips. he’s so sensitive throughout his neck and each nibble of my teeth has him squirming and begging.

after leaving one good hickey and faint lipstick stains on the side of his neck, just below his ear, I scoot up and hover my core over his mouth. my thighs, which both had streaks of my essence dripping down them, straddled his head. jake looks at my wet panties, ripping them apart with his eyes before presenting his tongue. he licks a quick stripe as soon as I lower myself onto him, collecting all the liquid that threatened to drip onto his chin. I let myself sigh as he gives a few more puppy licks and grab hold of his hair. “you taste so good,” he moans, and then I completely sit on his face.

my eyes naturally close and my head is thrown back as he sucks my underwear dry, occasionally humming and sending vibrations throughout my pussy. “yeah that’s it,” I groan, slowly grinding my hips on his tongue, “use that tongue of yours, puppy.” he has a few more laps before I lift myself off of his face. jake whines in protest, and with his small pout I was almost expecting him to pull me back down.

instead, he cries, “please can I cum? please, please, please. it hurts so bad.” I could see the tears threatening to spill from his glossy eyes.

“hmm,” I tap my chin, “maybe if you beg some more I’ll let you.”

“please, please, please, mommy! I need you to touch me and make me cum so bad. I’ll be a good puppy, I promise.”

him calling me mommy nearly made me go feral. I was holding myself back this whole time for the sake of his punishment, and now I needed him as much as he needed me. so I tossed my panties, shirt, and bra aside and pulled jake’s cock towards my entrance. we both moan as I sink down onto him. he stretches my walls so nicely.

“fuck, mommy, you feel so good,” he curses when I start riding him. my pace is moderate, switching between me bouncing and grinding on his cock. my walls grip onto him, making him moan and curse even more. “yes, mommy. fuck me.”

his hands reattach themselves onto my hips. his face is now completely fucked out—his eyes half-lidded, his jaw slack and consistently releasing loud moans, his hair sticking to the sweat that’s accumulated on his forehead. I was honestly surprised he lasted as long as he did.

“mommy can I cum on you, please? I’ll clean it up, mommy. please.”

“go ahead, puppy. cum for mommy,” i say as I get off his dick. pearly white rope instantly shoots out from his slit and onto my stomach and chest. as promised, jake gathers his cum on my stomach with his fingers and sucks them clean, then licks the cum off my chest, sneaking a small suck on my nipple.

we collapsed next to each other afterwards, gathering our breaths and our thoughts before going to clean ourselves up. jake thanks me after he hands me a bottled water. although I wasn’t exactly sure what he was thanking me for, I still respond with “of course.”

briefly, I worried that things would be awkward between us. considering that jake only said he was attracted to me and didn’t specify if he had any romantic feelings for me, I half-expected him to treat me like a one night stand. however, he was sweet and offered to keep me in his bed to rest and that’s where we ate our mexican food when it shortly arrived afterwards before cuddling the rest of the night.

I had no idea what was next for us—a relationship, a friends with benefits arrangement, or maybe this really was just a one night stand. at that moment, I was content with either of those.

all I was certain of is that the next person I was punishing was jay.

#sub!jake #sub!jaeyun #sub!enhypen #sub!idol #sub!kpop #dom!reader #dom!fem!reader #jake smut #jaeyun smut #enhypen smut

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running-with-kn1ves · 2 years ago

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all i have to say is yandere thats like whatever peter pan was with s/o who had become so tired with their life that they went with him to "neverland"—until s/o is already like "okay I think I've had enough fun, so can we go back now?" and their like "oh come on dont be like thatttttt we have so much to see and do—SO STAY. won't you please do that for me hehe☺"....1000👏👏👏

I hope this turned out like you were thinking! This idea def fascinates me,,,

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"I still don’t quite understand.” the man cocked his head sideways as he feigned ignorance.

You sighed, throwing your head in your hands. This conversation has gone nowhere but in circles, and yet you still tried to reason with him.

“I need to get back home! To see the people I love! Don’t you understand that? I can’t stay here anymore.”

It was hard not to yell at him after dealing with his perfectly structured obtuse questions.

Looking at you he stared in thought. He rested his hand on his chin and tried his best to stay still, but ultimately failed. Walking in circles, he brought back the same point he’d done so for hours.

“But why can’t you just stay? You’re much happier here anyway, right? So there’s no need to go back. They’ll never make you as happy as this place could.” He paused for a moment, staring at you. “As I could.”

“Please--” You sighed, putting a hand to your temple as you paced in the same manner as he. You didn’t know what to say to that. Was he right? You didn’t know. But it still felt wrong to stay here, even if it would make you happier in the end. You wouldn’t be able to sit right if you didn’t go back.

“Come on, at least stay for a little longer? You haven’t even finished seeing the island--”

“I can’t,” You avoided his eyes. “I’ve already been here for days. I can feel it. Even with the sun always looking at me, I know that I’ve been here too long.”

It was clear; being with him was like a dream, but reality was beginning to wake you up.

“But you can’t leave! Not when you haven’t even met everyone yet; you haven’t even seen the best part yet, okay? Just, stay a little while more--”

“That's exactly what you said yesterday, and the day before!” You snapped. A part of you wondered if he was making up these ‘new places to see.’ But then again, Neverland was so big that it wouldn’t be a surprise if he was telling the truth.

He tried his best to look into your eyes, to grab a hold of you and pull you back in like he always did. He did the exact same thing that night, the one where he told you he would take you away from all your problems.

That dark, breezy moment felt like ages ago. Had it really only been a few days?

It felt like you had been here for… forever.

“No.” You swallowed, turning away from his touch. “ I want to leave. Now.”

You knew you couldn’t take yourself back home --on the account of traveling to an unknown realm countless miles away from your world-- but you hoped that the sternness in your voice was enough to convince him.

But when you looked back, he didn’t appear disheartened or saddened.

No-- he looked angry.

Yanking your wrist he dragged you back to the beach, away from the cliff of which you had first landed on the night you entered Neverland.

“Let go!” You grunted, trying to free yourself from his bruising hold. “This isn’t the way back!”

“We aren’t going back. You, aren't going back. You’re going to stay here, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

You stopped in your tracks, dragging him backwards with you. “What?” you scoffed.

The man smiled, his eyes losing the youthful sparkle that you once admired. He was glad you were finally listening, finally accepting the fate that you were destined to have the moment you accepted his hand from your balcony.

“Oh you’re so cute.” He pinched your cheek with a childish grin. “I know this hissy fit comes with being in a new place, but won’t you just say you’ll stay with me?”

He was trying to give you the illusion of choice, despite knowing that no matter your response, he'd hold you here with him.

You stuttered, tripping backwards and trying to keep his hands away from cupping your face. He grabbed your wrist to keep from swatting him, squeezing it with a harshness you had never seen him use before. You felt his fingers on your back, pressing you closer than comfortable to him.

“After all, you don’t have a choice.”

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