#the last bit is inspired by riddle me this lol

[josephscoat]

February 14, 1937

“Love is in the air…”

While some like to relish and take a good whiff of it on this very day, going all-out while reveling in festivities that are heavily saturated in hues of pinks and reds; some folks, namely our beloved briny captain, would prefer to put on a gas mask and spend it indoors― doing a quiet activity like needlework or light-reading, with a drink that may or may not contain alcohol, and be in the company of his good friends.

His plans to stay in were disrupted however, when one of his said friends (Tintin), insisted that they spend the evening at the new pub that’d just opened, so they could have a nice dinner there.

Despite his protests, he accompanies Tintin to book themselves a table anyways, after the younger mentioned something about ‘wanting to make up for lost time’; which was true ― it’s been a while since they’d gone out with it just being the two of them.

They were busy doing their own respective things these past few weeks, with him frequenting Ramo’s place more often and Tintin going off with Chang and Martine after his shifts.

While he is more than happy to see that the lad’s finally gotten ‘round to hanging out with friends that are more his age, and has started to enjoy his young adult life, he does miss spending time with him as well (such sappiness he wouldn’t admit to out loud, but it’s true).

So, he accompanies Tintin to visit and perhaps grab a bite at this new place he’s been talking about (more or less with a bit of complaining on the way there).

The late winter air still had a cold bite to it― and so the couples that were walking down the street with them huddled close together for warmth; coats were offered and other saccharine sentiments unfolded in the middle of the walkway.

Seeing such a sight made Haddock want to yell at them to go scram and get a room ― Christ, they’re not the only people taking the sidewalk; some people have places to be for crying out loud!

“Why’d you want to try this place, lad?” the captain inquires, shooting a look at the couple that just rudely shoved past him without so much as an ‘excuse us’. “I thought you didn’t like this holiday??”

“Hmn... no reason in particular,” the younger shrugs, “I still hold a great disdain for the day of hearts, but I think there are better ways to spend the evening than holing yourself up and drinking.”

“Oi, I’ll have you know that I’ve been sober for nearly 5 weeks now―” waving his hand with all five fingers splayed, “and ‘lest you’ve forgotten, you’ve had one too many of a drink on your last birthday yourself, Valentin.”

“Heh, don’t call me that again, ever―” the pair come to a halt near 408 Leserin Street.

“We’re here.”

“The Hairy Canary?” Haddock quirks a brow. “Weird name to give a business, but who am I to have a say?”

“You know, it’s the only British pub in Brussels that offers 65 to 85 percent off during happy hours―”

“Well what are we waiting out here for?? Let’s save ourselves a table before someone else beats us to it!” the captain quips, tugging Tintin by the wrist and pulling him into the pub.

The inside, in stark contrast, was much warmer and hospitable compared to the cold streets outside; floodlit in a yellow-orange glow, it felt quite homely for a pub (in a good way). The server who stood at the register greeted them with a smile.

“Good evening gentlemen, welcome to The Hairy Canary; I’m Aria, how may I help you tonight?”

“We’re here to book a table for two please.” Haddock said, only to be met with an apology.

“I’m sorry sir, but we’re kind of low on tables at the moment, seeing as it’s Valentine’s Day and all…”

“Oh, that’s okay―” Tintin spoke up, but before he could excuse themselves and move to another place, the captain cuts him off with a melodramatic, *sigh*.

“Aye, I’m aware, me and the boy’s mother are going through a divorce…”

“I thought you didn’t like women??” the younger chides; it was met with a swift shove from the elder. “Quiet lad.”

“I don’t like anyone ― especially your mother, that’s why we’re getting a divorce.”

“Really now?” the server mused, elbow on the counter, face propped up on their hand. “What’s his mother’s name? I’ve seen you two around before, but not his mum.”

“Ethel.”

“Ethel?” they prodded, but Haddock remained steadfast at keeping up the ruse.

“Yeah, Ethel Elle Kohl― you’ve probably seen her around,” the captain replied, “the divorce was a violent one, with broken glass and blood everywhere.”

He then proceeds to conjure up a dramatised retelling of a non-existent memory that occurred on a dark stormy night (Tintin just awkwardly stood there whilst listening to the captain spew utter codswallop).

“I remember grabbing a neck and yelling over and over that she’s ruined our lives, afterwards there was something slammed against the wall and the bottle of alcohol was shattered into a million pieces.” Haddock laments to the server.

“Oh my…”

“Today’s the only day of the week where I have custody of him, and it just so happened to be on Valentine’s Day…”

“… I’ll see what I can do to get you gents a table,” Aria says, leaving their post to find a coworker of theirs, “oh, and by the way― kids thirteen and under eat for free, how old is your son?”

“He just turned twelve last week, on the day the divorce was finalised.” The captain said; Tintin, who was mortified, looks to him in a mix of great offense and betrayal.

“You got divorced on his birthday??”

“She threw the cake out of the window, that’s when we started arguing.”

“Very well…” The server says, thoroughly amused by their antics before walking off.

“You’re going to get us in trouble.” Tintin warns, feeling the start of a migraine coming in. “And for the record, I’m 22; I don’t appreciate you shaving nearly a decade of my life off so we could get a table.”

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you; well you’re the one who dragged me all the way out here― I’m not going to sit and watch lovers canoodling all night stone-cold sober.”

“Captain, there are other pubs we can go to you know­, we can still go to Gloster’s!”

“We’re banned from Gloster’s remember?” Taking out a menu from its stand, he began to skim through their options. “And besides, were already here and seated― what do you want to order?”

Tintin doesn’t reply― his attention was piqued by something, as he looked past the captain’s shoulder.

Haddock, hoping for the worst that it’s not another bloke insinuating a brawl with his boy, turns to look back at what’s going on behind him.

An elderly woman, who, was perhaps in her late 70’s or early 80’s had collapsed in her chair ― the three servers were mildly panicking, trying to resuscitate her in some way.

Keyword: trying ― they were doing more panicking and less resuscitating; one of them held her up by the armpits to prevent her from falling over, whilst the other tried to fan her, thinking that she’d overheated or something of the sort, given that the place did feel kind of stuffy now that people were coming in; the third server got yelled at by the other two to go call emergency services.

Tintin, being the ever bleeding-heart, boy scout that he is, stood up and went to help.

Upon approaching them, he briefly introduces himself and asks why she’d collapsed, afterwards he did a primary survey of her― trying to get a response by shaking her shoulders lightly and patting her face while speaking to her.

Once he’s confirmed that she was, unresponsive, he went to check her pulse and tilt her head back a little to check her airways.

Her pulse was slow and her breathing was short and shallow ― which was not a good sign.

Tintin instructs one of the servers to help him elevate her legs onto a chair; he stayed with the two and didn’t return to their table until emergency services arrived 25 minutes later.

In the span of that 25, a man in his mid-70’s had also succumbed to and was suffering similar symptoms; Tintin also tried to help him as well, but got overwhelmed when seemingly more and more people kept passing out, with most of them being senior citizens; he’d left emergency services to take care of the situation once they’d finally shown up.

By the time he’d sat down, he felt like the room was spinning ― with all the panicked voices that were yelling for help, there must’ve been at least 10 people that were escorted out of the pub by paramedics.

Haddock was quick to notice the younger’s sluggishness and asks: “Hey now, are you alright?”

“I’m fine― why? Just a little dizzy from all the noise from earlier, that’s all.”

“Are you sure? You look like you’re dressed for a pine box with how pale you are…” but before he could prod any further, one of the servers came up to them to take their orders.

“Uh― Hi, did you find anything that you’d like to try from our menu? Aria sent me, and they said that your first drinks are on the house, after your kiddo over here helped with the fainting seniors.”

“… I’ll just have a can of Saint Michaels, you lad?” he nudges the younger out of his daze.

“Mineral water, please…”

“Okay… would that be all?”

“Yeah―”

Suddenly they heard an explosion go off ― from where they sat, they saw thick, white smoke that’d started pouring from out the kitchen; with a growing orange flame that crept close behind it.

Yeah… it’s safe to say that they had those drinks to-go ― Haddock had to prevent an out of sorts Tintin from jumping into action again.

They went to Gloster’s afterwards; they were allowed in after the captain bribed the owner into letting them stay.

“You know, I heard that there’s a silent killer running around town.” A girl indiscreetly, whispers to her friends.

Tintin’s ears immediately perk up upon dropping eaves on the table next to them.

“Really? On Valentine’s day of all days?”

“Yeah, they’re never seen, heard nor smelled― but when they strike, they take many people out in one go.”

“I wish they could take me out.”

“Doris what the hell???” One of the girls rebukes.

“Anyways ― even in crowded areas, they always manage a kill; not even restaurants or shops are safe,” she said with a grim expression.

“And the weird part? None of the victims were reported to have had any external injuries or the like― some of the locations where they’d strike were set ablaze by a fire of unknown origin.”

Tintin’s already figured out who the killer is; the question is, have you?

[vshiftsss]

ROSEMARY ‘ROMY’ ZABINI. - (HOGWARTS DR INTRO)

being the youngest of three siblings, rosemary gillian zabini had a lot to prove.

she had to be the best of the best — had to turn heads, command rooms, and rule hogwarts, all while making it look effortless. everyone was depending on her to uphold the zabini name in all its glory (or rather, infamy. romy’s mother wasn’t the friendliest person. quite the opposite, actually). rosemary was supposed to follow in her mother’s footsteps, becoming a powerful witch that would inevitably be a woman with enough money to last her three lifetimes. even her twin brother, blaise zabini, held her up to the same unrealistic standard everyone seemed to possess when acknowledging her.

“be the best of the best. you can’t be anything less.”

but what if she didn’t want to be the best?

all she really wanted was a breath a fresh air. a brief reprieve from the suffocating clutches of everyone’s expectations, a glimpse of solace amidst the overwhelming shitshow she had as a life. was she going to find it at hogwarts? hell no. but rosemary could at least find some semblance of individuality there, without her mother breathing down her neck.

little did she know, a certain someone named mattheo riddle would take her precious breath of fresh air away as soon as she stepped onto school grounds. both figuratively and literally. rosie was in for a rude awakening; she wasn’t getting a break until the sky turned upside down and her mother finally got a husband.

she was going to need all the luck, all the help, and all the alcohol she could get to survive.

overview… so i’m trying something new! as you can see by the layout switch up…i was so inspired by like everyone on here having the prettiest posts ever and i changed everything. i also wanted to match the house i’m in, cause i’m gonna be a ravenclaw, so yeah! we’re not gonna talk about how i was completely wrong about everything i thought the marauders era was! it happens to the best of us. also, just wanted to mention that this dr is set in university (because i’m in college currently) and also set in modern times.

sidenote… i really tried getting into my creative writing bag and making this intro a bit cooler than what it was gonna be, but then i realized halfway through that i am incredibly rusty. give me the benefit of the doubt, y’all, writer’s block is real…

sidenote pt. 2… if this is formatted weird shhhh no it’s not, also feel free to ask any questions about any dr because i’m happy to answer! i finally figured out how to open the asks thingy lols just be respectful please!

anywho, i’ll go more into depth about what this dr is all about in due time. i just wanted to post a lil something because i love it here and i want to stay active. love you guys bye bye <3

[regretmedaisy]

i can see you - tom riddle x fmc/reader

part II

loosely inspired by "i can see you" by taylor swift.

“I've been watchin' you for ages

And I spend my time tryin' not to feel it”

summary: She had always fancied Tom Riddle. It was an infatuation that bordered on love and obsession, that she had secretly grown and cared for, content with indulging in her fantasies and never bold enough to try and make them become reality.

When she meets him again in her adulthood, dormant longings resurface together with a newfound desire to be the object of his own devotion.

As their paths keep crossing, she starts to think he feels the same.

tags: afab mc, use of female pronouns and no descriptors (i tagged it as x reader because i guess it could be read as such if you use the same pronouns), somewhat period-accurate clothing, courtship (just a little because it's still tom riddle), fmc has a crush on tom, she's a bit anxious, a bit of fluff, explicit sexual desire, vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, woman is on top.

please note that mc has a crush on tom, therefore the way she refers to him could sound a bit cheesy and exaggerated. i edited this last night and didn't read it again before posting. i'm sorry for any typos or grammar mistakes i missed.

bear with her in this one, she's a little anxious.

words: 6.7K

you can find part I here, I strongly recommend you read that one first.

this is me crawling out of my hole of shame to post this chapter.

i'm really sorry for this very late update, but the smut chapter is finally here after many days of writing (but still in time for smutober lol).

it's not crazy smut, but i hope it was worth the wait.

Part II: And I could see you up against the wall with me

She tapped her foot, pursing her red lips as she jotted a few numbers down on a parchment. She sighed, taking another folder from the pile on her side and checking if the reports corresponded. 

When Serena, her boss, had showed up that morning with two delivery men in tow, she already knew her day was going to take a detestable turn.

Serena had dropped three boxes full of last year's reports in the office and sprinted out of the door before they could say anything and try to stop her.

Apparently she had hired a cheap accountant to save money and now she had to review everything before the Ministry noticed and demanded an audit. Or rather, Serena had asked her to do it.

She was now holed up in the backroom while Will had taken her place in the main office, since Serena didn’t pay her enough to care about customers and save her from bankruptcy at the same time.

She glanced at the clock, noting that it was almost time for her usual break. She chewed the inside of her cheek and returned to the reports.

She wasn’t in the right mindset to meet Tom.

The day she had gone to see him had been like the calm before the literal storm. In the past week it had rained so heavily that she had had to give up on going out and he hadn’t come to post his letters. What had happened between them had been left unresolved.

She had replayed it so many times in her mind, at night and during idle moments in the office, picturing different ways in which it could have ended, desperately wishing she could indulge in his warm lips again.

The first few days she had fretted about it, but as the week had gone by without a word from him, she had just started to accept it as the normal course of things. Perhaps it had just been an extraordinary event, a moment that wasn’t going to repeat itself and that she needed to find contentment in. Perhaps it was supposed to be one of those memories she was going to return to in twenty years, thinking about everything she could have had, or it will sour in her mind, turning into regret while her lamenting soul grieved the possibilities of youth, the chances she had been too scared to take.

It didn’t matter that she was conscious of the anxious butterflies leading her decisions, she still didn’t want to find out if what she saw in him was just a product of her infatuated imagination.

She immersed herself in numbers, refusing to go down that rabbit hole again.

Fifteen minutes after the end of her break, a customer walked in. A beat of silence followed and then Will said, “She’s in the back.”

She almost jumped out of her seat, her heart rate picking up. She quickly smoothed her hair and sat straighter, crossing her legs.

Tom appeared in the doorway, his arm half raised as if he had wanted to knock. She pretended she had just noticed him.

“Good morning,” he said.

“Hello, Tom.” She gave him a mellow smile.

He was so good-looking, with his perfectly styled curls and black coat in the muted light of the cloudy morning. Her heart fluttered painfully.

He looked hesitant as he made his way to her and handed her a folded magazine. It was the weekly crossword.

“Thank you,” she said, taking it as her gaze met his. The way he was looking at her was so compelling it was impossible for her to divert her eyes.

He had been thinking of her, she realised, he had noticed her absence, perhaps even missed her.

“I hope I’m not disrupting your work.” His gaze trailed to the numerous papers scattered on the table.

“Not at all, a distraction is more than welcome.” The distraction of his presence was most desirable.

He drew closer, reading through them as he casually rested his hand on the back of her chair.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Maths mostly,” she replied, fiddling with the parchments to hide her nervousness.

He reached out over her shoulder to grab a folder but she placed a hand on his arm to stop him.

“I’d rather you didn’t. It’s still work.”

He dropped his arm. “You’re right, I apologise. I don’t wish to put you in an uncomfortable position.”

“It’s fine.”

He stepped to the side, tickling her neck.

“I’ll see you later?” he asked.

She had to stop herself from grinning.

“Of course.” 

She watched him with desirous parted lips as he left. He said goodbye to Will and she heard the door closing. It was only a matter of minutes before Will came to pry.

She grabbed the crossword, flipping through the pages. He had bought her her favourite one.

As she got up to put it next to her bag, a small note fell to the ground. It was a plain piece of parchment. But as she picked it up, ready to throw it on the table with the rest of the documents, words started to appear.

Her breath caught in her throat. She knew to whom that elegant and neat handwriting belonged.

She read the note. Then read it again to make sure she wasn’t hallucinating. 

“I hope to see you more often in the future.

You look stunning with that lip colour.

T.R.”

She brought her fingers to her mouth, staring at the words until each swirl of ink etched into her mind, terrified they might disappear.

Instead his message remained there, visible, tangible, real. He had taken time to write her a note, to think about something he knew she’d appreciate.

Something warm diffused in her chest, a new version of a familiar feeling, and a giggle escaped her as she realised the ridiculous effect he had on her. 

She was so engrossed in her reverie that she didn’t notice Will standing in the door until he cleared his throat. 

She quickly hid the message in her purse and  he was so considerate not to comment on it.

“How is it going?” he asked.

“Awfully slowly, these numbers are all over the place,” she huffed, returning to her chair.

He dragged a chair and sat across from her. He started bouncing his knee. “I know you’d prefer not to talk about this, but how are things between you two?”

She stopped twirling her quill. “What do you mean?”

Will shuffled awkwardly in his seat. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy for you but I’d hate to see you hurt.”

She tilted her head to the side, disliking the territory the conversation was heading towards.

He was struggling with his words. “He never- I never saw him interested in a girl. I just want to be sure you know what you can expect from him.”

She averted her eyes. “I have considered all the options.”

“And?”

“And I don’t know, Will!” she bursted out. 

Her flare of annoyance suddenly deflated, making room for embarrassment for what he probably saw as naivety.

“I know I’m probably getting ahead of myself.”

“You are smart, I just can’t stand watching you smile at the things he writes to you.”

She feigned offence and threw a balled up paper at him. 

“When you find someone, you’ll be just as ridiculous.”

He laughed and steepled his fingers in front of him. “I’m curious to know, when did it start?”

She scrunched her eyebrows, thinking about how much she wanted to reveal. “I don’t remember exactly. It was more like a sequence of events, until one day I was anxiously waiting for him to sit at his usual spot at breakfast,” she replied with a smile. Will was smiling too.

“You and half of Hogwarts,” he said.

She chuckled. “I miss those years sometimes. Everything was simpler.”

“I used to worry about everything,” he admitted. “But fears always seem so big.”

They really did.

“What do you like about him?” he asked after a beat of silence.

It was her turn to be at a loss of words. “He’s handsome…and always so mysterious. I think I always liked him because it was easy to imagine him being exactly what I wanted.” She looked at him hesitantly, fearing judgement, but he was just listening. “But I think it’s impossible for me to dislike the real him.”

They shared a small moment of closure. She had always wished for someone she could confide in, someone that could help her see beyond the fabrications of her wary heart, and perhaps she had finally found them.

The bell chimed and Will got up. 

“Do you want to come for lunch on Sunday?” she asked.

“I’d love to. I’m sorry for earlier, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

His gaze shifted between the door and her. “Just make sure you both want the same thing.”

He went back, leaving her at the mercy of her insidious brain and foolish heart.

Throughout the afternoon she had opened the note at least three times, giggling like a schoolgirl everytime she read his words.

Her mind kept straying to what he had said.

“I’ll see you later.”

She wasn’t sure what he had actually meant. Was he just going to stop by or was he going to wait for the office to close? She wasn’t even sure she could see him today, since she expected to stay late to solve Serena’s mess. 

Will popped in. “I have to check something at the owlery. I’ll be back in a while.”

“Alright, I’ll see you later.”

The door opened and closed and then she was submerged by stillness. It was soothing almost.

She had found out long ago that she enjoyed being alone, it freed her of any kind of expectation.

She turned up the heating with her wand and took off her jacket. Since they couldn’t light a fireplace in a room full of paper, they had refined a spell that kept the room warm and the humidity away.

It was a few minutes after the usual closing hour that the door opened again. She knew who it was.

He walked in, his cheeks slightly flushed from the cold and his lips reddened. 

“Are you still working?” he asked.

She nodded. “I’m afraid it’ll take a while before I’m free to go.”

“It’s not a problem,” he said, grabbing her crossword and a quill and sitting down on a chair, bending one leg so that his ankle rested on his other knee.

Her face heated as she watched him but she didn’t say anything.

As she returned to her work, she realised that silence was a strange assistant. It felt like every sound was heightened and she was becoming keenly aware of everything that was happening. The scratching of their quill on parchment, paper being flipped as she checked the numbers or he looked for a crossword he liked, his soft breath threatening to pull her close like a magnet, her absentmindedly chipping her nail polish.

She kept throwing glances in his direction and she could feel his eyes on her from time to time.

An unspoken craving was growing between them again. She had waited long enough.

She slowly got up, gathering her reports and stacking them in a neat pile. She then took them and walked over to the shelves, conveniently passing by Riddle in doing so. 

As she stored them, his chair scraped on the ground and she felt him draw closer. She deliberately turned around, meeting his eyes.

His gaze was deep, like he was trying to read every thought that crossed her mind just by looking at her. She wasn’t going to lay them bare for him. 

He raised his hand, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Did you get my message?”

“I did,” she replied, stepping forward and trailing her fingers down his suit jacket, feeling the fabric. “You keep mentioning it but this is the first time I’ve seen you all week.”

“It was storming all week,” he pointed out.

She tilted her head, finding his eyes again. His eagerness was palpable. “Still,” she said.

He grabbed her waist, pressing her body flush against his. “And you still haven’t answered my question.”

She had thought about that moment since then.

“Tell me what you desire the most.”

What could she tell him? That she had been pining for him for so long she couldn’t imagine herself with anyone else? That she was jealous of even thinking about him with someone else? Will’s words played in her mind.

She leaned closer, murmuring against his ear. “Not until I know why you’re here, Tom.”

She left a kiss on his jaw, phantom lips brushing against his flawless skin.

“It’s a really uncomplicated answer,” he said, caressing her back.

“Explain it to me, then.”

Tender amusement tugged at the corners of his lips. “Do you really think I came here because I don’t own an owl?”

His words pulled at her heartstrings with raw delight and her mind went blank. Adrenaline was rushing through her as she listened to her impulses. It was enough, at least for now it was enough.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and tangled her hand in his hair, involuntarily tugging at the strands as she leaned closer. She could feel his warm breath as he pulled her in, gripping the silky fabric of her blouse.

She met his lips halfway, the burning touch consuming her as he pressed her against the shelves, one hand lost in her hair, the other splayed around her ribcage. 

She bit his lower lip, smiling as it elicited a groan from him and the kiss became more demanding.

It was a moment frozen in time, where she wanted to stay forever, like the scenery in a snowglobe.

“Hello?”

A man’s voice abruptly pulled them apart. She was breathless as she realised she had forgotten to lock the door. Was this a conspiracy? 

Tom was slightly panting and she left a small kiss on his neck.

“Don’t leave,” she whispered.

She used a finger to fix her smudged lipstick and went to see who had just dared to interrupt them.

There was a man standing in the office.

“We’re closed,” she said.

“But I saw the light on.”

There was a twitch in her jaw. “We are closed to the public. I must ask you to come tomorrow morning.”

He rolled his eyes and she ignored his grumbling as he left, locking the door behind him. When she went back, Tom was leaning against the table.

He turned his head towards her as she languidly got closer. She forgot pleasantries, immediately grabbing his face to kiss him again. He was quick to react, wrapping his arms around her.

His mouth trailed down, kissing her cheek, her jaw and then pressing against her neck, soft lips and the occasional scrape of his teeth. 

He grabbed her waist and spun her around, flattening her back against his chest and brushing her hair away from her neck to bite and lick her skin. His hands travelled down and he started gathering the fabric of her skirt. 

Merlin, it was finally happening. 

He caressed her inner thigh, tracing patterns and snapping the nylon of her stockings as his fingers moved excruciatingly slow.

Finally he pulled her underwear to the side, feeling the wetness between her folds with his fingers as his other hand cupped her breast.

She threw her head back against his shoulder as he stroked her clit, eliciting a sigh out of her, and she grabbed his thigh for support.

“I won’t drop you,” he murmured, amused, against her ear. He rubbed his palm over her clothed breast, the friction causing sparks to jolt through her body.

None of her fantasies came even close to what she was feeling right now.

“Should I trust you?” she asked, biting her lip to suppress a moan as he sunk one finger inside of her, his thumb still applying pressure on her clit.

“Such a great timing to ask me that,” he replied. She felt him smile on her skin.

“We don’t really know each other, Tom.” She dug her fingers into his flesh as he slipped in a second finger and started fingering her, stretching her as pleasure morphed her features. 

“And yet you are letting me do this.” He squeezed her breast, lewd wet sounds filling the room as he kept moving his fingers inside of her. 

She leaned her body weight completely on him, her legs unsteady as it was precarious the beating of her heart. 

He let out a low moan as she yanked his hair to catch his mouth, biting his lip hard to gain better access, their tongues tangling together.

He curled his fingers inside of her, an unrelenting wave of pleasure washing over her.

She stopped to imagine what it would be like if he dropped to his knees again, if he started kissing and licking her, if she could watch him at her mercy between her legs.

She realised in that moment that the fall down the precipice was inevitable. Tom had threatened to push her but she had allowed him to succeed, jumping into an abyss that felt unending but that could only allow two conclusions to her story.

What she had told Will was true. She loved the fantasy, all the glances, conversations, gestures that had never happened, that she had delighted herself with when the reality was harsher, but as she kissed him she knew that falling for the real Tom was unavoidable. Not if he kept touching her like that.

It was bound to happen, it was part of her story, the decision she was brave enough to take.

She focused on him, on the circles his thumb was drawing on her clit, on the indecent sounds falling from her lips, on his groans on her reddened skin, on him growing harder against her back. 

He pulled her hair back, tilting her head to meet her gaze. His eyes glimmered with rapture while hers were heavy-lidded, tension building inside of her. 

He didn’t take his eyes off of her, as if he wanted to memorise each detail of her, the way she looked at him, the way her lips parted slightly and the way she panted as she was nearing her orgasm.

“Just like that, darling,” he murmured, a pleased smile on his lips as he noticed she was still blushing.

She threw her head back, losing herself in the motion of his fingers, surrendering herself as blissed moans spilled out shamelessly. She squeezed his soaked fingers, and he kept moving, stroking her throughout her climax.

She panted, coming down from her apex in a flurry of emotions and flustered thoughts. He raised his wet fingers to her lips and she opened her mouth, tasting herself on her tongue as she sucked on them, never breaking eye contact.

“Good girl,” he said, holding her jaw and kissing her.

It was a slow kiss, meant to explore her depths in a different way from the breathless and unrestrained passion from before. She leaned into his palm, her hand closing around his wrist.

His arms snaked around her waist and he turned them around, pushing under her thighs to lift her on the table.

The kiss transformed again.

Teeth and tongues met with vehemence, burning urgency guiding their movements as he brought her legs around his waist and she quickly started to unbutton her blouse.

But at the third button, she stopped. 

Tom noticed the shift in her demeanour and drew back, observing her. Her eyes flew to the clock, as she had just remembered about Will.

She noticed with disappointment that they had no time.

“What is it?” he asked. She didn’t miss the urgent tone of his question.

“Will will be back any time now,” she replied, leaving a peck on his lips. 

He cleared his throat and stepped back, composing himself. She got off the table and

cool hands unexpectedly reached her again, adjusting her clothes and stockings. She shivered at the contact.

He smoothed her skirt and put his coat back on, watching her as she scribbled something on a piece of paper and gave it to him.

“If you want to stop by one of these days.”

“I remember where you live,” he replied, reading the address she had written down.

She shrugged, holding out one finger to wipe away the lipstick at the corner of his mouth.

“Do you have to go back to work?”

“I was supposed to meet with a potential supplier, so yes.”

“I’d stop by the bathroom before,” she advised, gesturing for him to go as she herself needed to compose herself again.

She braced herself against the threshold, leaning her head on the hard wood as she watched him unlock the door and leave. 

Then she was alone, finally finding an answer in the cluster of hypotheses that had tormented her mind.

Two days later, as she was returning from her meeting with Serena, she found Tom waiting for her.

He was talking to Will and they both turned to her as she entered, feeling tremendously self-conscious.

“How is Serena?” Will asked.

“Dim-witted as always,” she replied, earning a laugh from Will.

Her eyes trailed to Riddle, holding an unspoken question. 

Will seemed to notice because he stepped forwards.

“It’s quite late, you can go if you want, I’ll close.”

Tom didn’t wait for him to repeat himself, pushing down the handle and holding the door open for her.

She mouthed a ‘thank you’ to him and followed Tom outside. Once in the street, she huddled herself in her coat and took the arm he was offering her. 

“May I walk you home?” he asked.

“Of course,” she said, a little breathy, still not immune to the chivalrous manners he always had with her.

They strolled through the streets, passing by scarcer and scarcer people as the stores emptied and everyone returned home seeking a tranquil evening.

She held his arm tightly, her fingers tracing delicate patterns on the fabric of his coat.

The first time they had walked together it had felt like an accident, a singular mistake in the already waved threads of her life. This time, she yearned for so much more than she wanted for the error to repeat itself; she was willing to cut the strings herself and tie them back together, as messy as it might have looked. 

They crossed the road and he gently put a hand on her waist, pushing her away from the pavement. 

“Would you fancy dinner?” he asked. There was a foreign quality in his voice and when she turned to look at him, he averted his eyes. She blinked bewildered. Was he nervous?

“I’d love to,” she replied and she noticed his chest rising like he had just begun breathing again. “But not tonight.”

An almost imperceptible smile cleared his expression at her answer and she leaned her head on his shoulder, basking in his mere presence.

When they reached her front door, she looked for her keys with embarrassingly clammy hands. 

As she lifted her head to ask Tom if he wanted to stay, she found his eyes impatiently boring into her bag. 

“Would you-”

His gaze snapped to her, serious and scorching. “Don’t even ask.”

Something coiled between her legs at the way he was looking at her. She nodded and walked up the few stairs to her door, unlocking it.

“Second floor,” she said, more to fill the silence than anything else.

They stepped into the building, the sound of her heels and the soles of his shoes hitting the stone ricocheting through the empty hall.

She turned to gesture to him to follow her when he grabbed her face, kissing her as he pushed her against the wall by the foot of the stairs. Her hands tangled in his hair, tugging at it just as she suspected he loved by the way he always pressed himself harder against her. 

He curved his palm around her cheek, better angling her face as their tongues met.

“I have a nosy neighbour,” she said after they pulled apart to catch their breath. “She is probably spying on us through her peephole.”

Tom didn’t think twice about it, taking her hand and leading her up to the second floor. She stifled a laugh as she unlocked the door, Tom’s lips skimming against her neck as she did, and was left breathless when he closed it unceremoniously behind them, resuming from where they had been interrupted.

As she dropped her bag and grabbed his waist, walking backwards into her living room, she remembered there were clothes somewhere - perhaps in the bathroom but she wasn’t sure - that she had forgotten to put away yesterday.

In any case, Tom didn’t look particularly interested in how tidy she was.

They quickly took off each other's coats and discarded them on the floor.

He sat on her sofa, pulling her down with him.

She was straddling him, her knees digging into the plush cushions as his hands appreciatively caressed her back, moving up and down and occasionally squeezing. She lit the fireplace with a wave of her hand.

She rocked her hips, rubbing against him and eliciting a long awaited moan from him. She grabbed the collar of his shirt, their lips collading so hard she was sure she cut him.

She helped him out of his jacket and vest and undid his tie, smoothing her hands on his white button-down.

“I’ve waited too long,” she said, quickly unbuttoning his shirt and grinding against him. Her hands disappeared under his undershirt and ran over his pale chest, lightly scratching his skin.

“Slowly, my dear. We will get there,” he replied between kisses.

His palms kept tracing her thighs and his face buried in her neck, nibbling at the thin skin.

When she was a small girl, before she discovered sex, Tom Riddle was just a boy she liked. During puberty, sharing stories and questions with her friends, she started to understand what was the sensation that passed through her everytime she was close to him, the one that made her cheeks redden and her mind go somewhere she wasn’t yet comfortable with.

As an adult, sexual relations weren’t unfamiliar to her, but this carnal longing, the need of a physicality that went beyond her skin touching his, was.

He opened her blouse, revealing her silk slip and bra underneath.

She wanted to touch his soul, to hold it and comprehend it.

Her eyes fell on the tattoo on his forearm, black tendrils of ink in the shape of a serpent slithering out of a skull.

“Does this have a meaning?” she asked.

He followed her gaze, blinking surprised at her question. “It does.”

“Am I prying too much if I say I’m curious to learn it?”

He bit his lip, opening and closing his fist as if he was scrambling for words. Or perhaps he was just determining if he could trust her.

“It’s a reinterpretation of the ouroboros, the snake eating its own tail,” he finally said. “It symbolises eternity and the renewal of the being after rebirth.”

She traced her fingers on his skin, following the outline of the snake. “And what does your interpretation mean?”

“There is time to talk about it later,” he whispered, his teeth biting her neck and sinking lower, kissing her collarbone and her sternum, moving the fabric covering her breasts to the side.

She let go of the subject. She knew what it meant not being comfortable sharing your life.

He held one breast between his fingers, latching his mouth over the other, sucking her nipple and twirling his tongue around it.

She moaned, rolling her hips faster as he revered her bosom, the cold air hitting her moist skin and making her shiver as he took her other nipple in his mouth, lightly tugging at it until she reached the point where pleasure and discomfort mixed.

“Since we are in the mood for confessions…” she said between moans. He raised his head and looked at her waiting for her to continue. She hesitated, collecting all her courage.

“Why did you pursue me?”

His eyes softened, glimmering with fondness. He brushed a strand of hair away from her face.

“Because there is something extremely valuable in your devotion.” His voice was an intimate murmur, a confession no one else could hear.

She freezed, turning her head to the side to hide her mortification.

He took her chin, searching for her eyes until she finally gave in.

“Don’t be embarrassed, darling, I respect it, I understand it. Obsession keeps us alive, it’s what drives us.”

She swallowed the lump of embarrassment in her throat. “Do you enjoy it?”

“Being the object of the desire of such a woman? Of a witch? I do,” he replied, and he was so direct and earnest that her heart swelled.

He lifted her to sit on the sofa, sliding down on his knees on the floor and taking off his shirt and vest. She remained silent as he rolled down her tights, his lips gliding down her smooth skin. He unbuttoned her skirt and helped her out of it, tracing patterns on her inner thigh as his other hand felt her damp underwear.

She tensed, something tightening in her lower abdomen and her eyes fell down to his trousers.

He kissed the crease of the thigh, like he had done that one time at Borgin and Burkes, but this time she wasn’t letting anyone interrupt them. 

He took off her underwear, his movements deliberately slow, and kissed her everywhere, except there.

His lips felt hot on her skin, searing her flesh like she had often dreamed about, carving his way into her body the same way he had done with her mind and heart, until her entire soul was consumed by him, until he could finally close that fist and feel her in a way nobody had before. 

Her breath hitched as he delicately kissed her mound, spreading her legs apart. She leaned her head against the backrest, licking her lips with anticipation, and she couldn’t contain a whimper as he felt his tongue dragging down her slit, sweet and cruel.

He took her clit in his mouth, sucking on it as his hand splayed on her abdomen to keep her still.

She squeezed her eyes shut, overwhelmed.

“Look at me, darling,” he murmured against her folds. His breath was warm and pleasant.

She obliged, meeting his devilish grinning figure between her legs. She was incapable of looking away as he resumed his work, she didn’t want to look away. She wanted to watch him, finally allowing herself to fully indulge in him, in what he wished to do for her.

She observed his curved eyelashes, the way his perceptive eyes followed her reactions, refining his movements to please her better.

He sucked her labia and she moaned loudly, the idea of him enjoying this as much as her being exhilarating.

He threw her leg on his shoulder, resulting in her figure sliding down the cushions and him gaining better access to her. 

His tongue probed her entrance as he coated his fingers in her wetness. He slipped one finger in, working her thoroughly as she gripped his hair, keeping his head in place.

He inserted a second finger, his tongue on her clit moving accordingly to the delighted sounds she emitted.

“Tom,” she cried urgently as she tried to press herself harder against him.

He curled his fingers inside of her and her hips jolted upwards, arching her back to an uncomfortable angle as she reached her orgasm with lascivious bliss, her obscene moans matching the wet sounds he produced by licking her until she came down from her climax.

“Tom,” she said again, so breathless her voice was a raspy whisper.

“I know,” he said, kissing her leg and inhaling deeply, like he was trying to commit the moment to memory.

He brought his fingers to his mouth, licking them clean as she let her watch.

She gently pushed him onto the carpet, bracing her hands on his shoulder as she sat on top of him. The fire was burning, enveloping their almost naked figures in warm orange light, heating their already scalding skin.

She took off her blouse with quivery hands, his gaze tracing her naked form that was slowly revealing itself. She hooked her fingers into the straps of her slip, pulling it down and then getting rid of it altogether. His hands on her waist tensed as she did the same for her bra.

Her lips parted as he touched her breast with both hands, kneading the soft flesh, tracing her areolae. 

She undid his trousers, pulling down the fabric until they were both completely naked. She took him in her hand, her fingers closing tentatively around him. Her hand started sliding up and down, her pace getting quicker and more confident as moans escaped him. She brushed her thumb on his tip, her eyes admiring what was in front of her. His lips were swollen, residue of her lipstick still on them, his hair was tousled, curls falling disorderly on his forehead, his eyes heavy-lidded as he looked at her. She felt a rush of satisfaction in knowing his current state was her doing, that she had enough power over him to ruin his flawless exterior, to make him want her to do it. 

His lips caught hers and he gently pushed her hand away. 

What happened after felt like rehearsed choreography, something so familiar it was impossible to forget. Their bodies moved together, their movements responsive to each other, doing and touching exactly where it mattered.

She pushed herself up on her knees, slowly lowering herself until she sank down on him completely, shuddering breaths escaping her lips.

His jaw was tense as she placed a hand on his shoulder for support, positioning herself better.

She didn’t break eye contact as she rolled her hips, soaking in the hazy blue of his eyes, in every twitch of his jaw and emotion he was feeling as she increased her pace, in his voice murmuring her name against her ear as his hands squeezed her tights and traced her back.

Skin slapped against skin, his touch inebriating as he felt every part of her, caressing her, massaging her, kissing her until she couldn’t take it anymore. Almost.

His hand dipped between her legs again, stroking her clit as she rocked her hips, eliciting groans from both of them.

Sentiment and pleasure fused together in an exhilarating moment, seared in her mind and flesh forever.

She kissed him again - she could never get tired of that - and bit his lower lip roughly as his other hand went to her breast again, pulling at her nipple. 

She threw her head back, letting his mouth scrape over her neck and chest, leaving behind scorching wet kisses. Or perhaps those were marks reddening her skin, she didn’t particularly care.

He gripped her waist, thrusting upwards as she held onto him tighter. Her nails drew half-moons into his back and she bit his neck, the fibres of the carpet scratching her knees.

The lights in the flat fluttered momentarily.

His fingers increased the pressure on her clit as his thrusts grew in intensity with one purpose in mind. 

She bit her lip, trying to hold back, to prolong this instant of pure bliss before she inevitably plummeted onto the other side.

She arched her back, moving accordingly to his rhythm, her hips bucking erratic as she rubbed against his pelvis. 

And then she fell down, unrestrained, her walls closing around him as she moaned uncontrollably. He didn’t stop, drawing circles on her sensitive skin until her breath found a semblance of steadiness again. 

“You did so good,” he whispered against her forehead, brushing a strand of sweaty hair away.

She slumped against him, her hands grabbing onto his biceps as he chased his own pleasure, his movements turning frantic, losing his rhythm.

She found herself murmuring against his skin the same things she had never had the courage to say out loud, not even to herself. She wasn’t sure he was even listening to her, engrossed as he was, but it didn’t matter.

He squeezed her tights once and she understood, rolling to the side as he deftly touched himself, fast strokes that culminated in white spurts all over his hand. She watched him mesmerised

He turned to look at her, his chest rising and falling rapidly. The fire casted shadows on his gorgeous face. 

They stayed like that for a long moment, gazing into each other, trying to guess what the other was thinking, making sense of what remained of themselves after what had just happened.

Did it have the same momentous effect on both of them? Or was it just her that knew she couldn’t go back to being acquaintances after this?

“Do you want to stay here tonight?” she asked. Her voice sounded faint and husky to her own ears.

“I do,” he replied without a second of hesitation.

They didn’t get up, instead resting against the foot of her sofa. She curled up against him as his hand traced indistinct patterns on her skin, remaining in this haze of indiscernible unspoken feelings they were both still trying to find a name for. 

When she woke up the next morning he was gone. As she took in the cold sheets and missing clothes, her heart threatened to crack.

She got up groggily, conclusions already forming in her mind, building the most pessimistic of pictures.

She felt anxious as she wore her robe and opened the door, heading straight for the bathroom. Halfway down the corridor, the sound of someone flipping through a newspaper halted her in her steps.

She stepped into the kitchen, finding Tom sitting in a chair with his legs crossed.

“Good morning,” he said.

“Good morning,” she said back, adjusting the belt of her robe. 

She noticed he had made breakfast, a steaming coffee pot, kept warm by magic, and some pastries she had never bought waiting for her on the table. 

She turned to take a mug from a cabinet so that she could hide her smitten smile. When she closed the cabinet, she found him looking at her.

There was no need for words.

“Where did you get that?” she asked as she poured herself some coffee, referring to the newspaper. 

“I stole it from your neighbour, I hope she won’t mind.”

She laughed. “So you know how to make a joke.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

She sat next to him, crossing her legs. She perhaps needed to rethink her choice of slippers.

“You were always so serious growing up.”

She put a spoonful of sugar in her coffee. 

“That never seemed to deter you.”

“It doesn’t.”

He took a sip of his own coffee. “Good.”

“Does it deter you, knowing how I feel?”

He blinked. “It never had. It makes it more interesting if I have to be honest.”

She blushed, scared to ask the next question.

“How long have you known?”

He got up, brushing his knuckles on her cheek.

“Long enough to see you for who you truly are.” 

He bent to give her a chaste kiss. “I should go, the shop opens in half an hour.”

He put on his coat and grabbed his leather gloves from his pocket. She turned in her chair, treasuring the last few moments of him in her apartment.

“There’s still a lot you haven’t learned yet.” 

She refused to be an open book to him. There was so much about her that was still incomprehensible even to her and too much she wanted to show him on her own terms. She wanted to be enigmatic, to drive him mad.

“I know.”

Her disappointment was visible on her face as she was met with his silence. She had wanted to continue that conversation, to learn what he had observed.

Instead he opened her front door, throwing her one last glance, heavy with unsaid intention she hoped she wasn’t imagining, before leaving. 

She had almost finished her breakfast when she noticed a small note under the newspaper he had left behind. She grabbed it faster than she was willing to admit, almost knocking over her cup in the process, and unfolded it.

“Dinner tonight?

I’ll pick you up at eight.

T.R.”

the last part is a bonus scene i wanted to write to apologize for my tardiness. tom is a little different, but I hope he isn't too out of character.

i honestly had so much fun writing this short story and exploring a different tom from the one i usually read and write about. i hope you enjoyed this and thank you for reading!

[fountainpenguin]

Riddle watches New Wish - Post #20

Best of Luck

With a title like "Best of Luck," this sounds exactly like an Anti-Fairy episode. I'm intrigued.

I love how Cosmo and Wanda's house can be wherever it needs to be, including inside Hazel's desk.

I wish we would've had that lore in the OG series, because it makes a lot of sense (and makes the concept of riding around with your godkids and sitting in elementary school all day less boring). I think I'm yoinking this for 'fics.

I like how they still have old-fashioned desks in the future. I've never had these desks.

Peri and Dev are together again... Peri's trying his best <3 I like how Dev is a grump. That feels right.

"Peace is boring and lacking in swag." - Dev Dimmadome, 2024

I love him.

I enjoy how that random horse has been here for tons of episodes. It's just silly.

I really like Winn. They have so many happy things to say about life and their friends:

"Pulling out paper, even though you'd used it to defeat your previous 3 opponents?? /smiles and clutches hands to chest while shaking head. "Inspired."

They deserve to be the cool kid everyone likes and wants to befriend. I support it. I hope they have a really nice life and many joys.

Hey, wait a minute! I WAS right about Winn only having freckles on one cheek. I think it just flips sides when they turn.

Peri in his debut: I'm gonna take you from Dev to Dev-ine!! Dev now, on the heels of a massive meltdown: What happened to you 'taking me from Dev to Dev-ine?' I don't FEEL very Dev-ine >:( Peri: :')

I enjoy the detail of Dev pushing his shades back on his nose after throwing his head back and then snapping it forward. They didn't even fall down or reveal his eyes, but it was the correct move for him to do.

I like how every time Dev moves his head, his shades catch the ceiling lights.

Ohhh, when snooty Peri comes out, you've gone too far!

... I was wrong!! Dev just raised his voice and Peri crumpled. I love him.

That music sting, tho...

For some reason, that last one gives me bigger "Oh, that's totally Poof" energy than any other screenshot I've taken? idk why; I don't remember Poof getting angry often.

Hang on- I watch Season 9 a lot. Let me check my usual highlights...

... ah. I don't like what this says about me.

-> omg, his staff is based on his rattle! I didn't even notice that until now!! That's so clever!

There's something really funny about posting this picture right before jumping back into my liveblog.

Anyway, Peri is trying SO hard to explain the rules... He looked like he was about to cry and then he snapped; let's see where this is going.

OHHHH, he's quitting! I knew it~! He can't handle the pressure. He's too baby!!

I cannot believe this man lasted 4.5 months on the job. Every time he showed up, he was upset.

Peri: You know what, Dev? I'm DONE. Dev: Well, I'm done-ER! Peri: I'm the done-EST! Dev: Stick a fork in BOTH OF US, THEN!!!

Neither of them is okay.

And he's got tears down his cheeks... Freakin' GEEZ, Dev! You snapped him like a twig.

I'm glad he's having a hard time adjusting to being a nice person. lol. It really underscores why he's so mean at the start of the series.

The fact that he had no issue taking off his shades after befriending Hazel in "A New Dev-elopment" (even willing to go to school with them off and talk nicely to his teacher that Monday, regardless of the fact that this was his first time in the series doing that and people might've talked about it) gives me the inkling that he probably HAS tried being nice in the past, and he doesn't MIND being nice... until he's hurting, and then his self-defense mechanism is to shut down and wall everyone out.

He WANTS to be "a happy kid." He just keeps getting bit every time he places his trust in someone. Including Hazel (in his POV) since he couldn't move past his "Wait a minute... Did you WISH for us to be friends??" meltdown in spite of the good times that came from that wish.

He tried so hard to see the good in his dad in "Lost and Founder's Day." Even when his dad snapped at him for asking if he could help and told him to go "Eat a lizard."

Even when his dad blatantly used electricity to shock people's brains and Dev very clearly had issues with it. He tried SO HARD to turn it around to "Oh, so you can help kids!!"

He even tried to see the good in Vicky [before she entered the house] when Hazel tried cheering him up with the thought of, "Well yeah, maybe you didn't want a princess cosplayer at your birthday, but she might be a really COOL party princess!"

He just keeps trying and has such high hopes and patience despite getting nipped every time he speaks up and reaches out. That's why he stayed un-miserable for so long before tipping over and getting Peri assigned to him. Tell him how high to jump and he'll do his best without even asking "How high?"

So he took that leap with Hazel. And the floor went out from under him.

I read once that if your natural response is to close off when you're struggling and/or just handle everything yourself even if it's a lot, it indicates your past experiences of reaching out yielded no help, so it's hard to see the point in asking others for help in the future.

I don't have the place I read this on hand and I didn't dive for the sources back then, so take it with a grain of salt, but it's all I've been thinking about while watching Dev in this show.

btw, I had to rewatch part of "Lost and Founder's Day" to grab that screenshot, and it's hilarious to me that even when he's talking to his own son, Dale still introduces himself as "Dale Dimmadome, owner of Dimmadome Global." He's just like his dad.

Okay... Blue smoke? Anti-Fairy time??

OHHHH, it's the man of the hour!! Welcome back, loser!

I love the little shift of him flexing his wing. I like how similar the wing is to the old show (Black with blue markings).

Eric Bauza, is that you?? Score!

Okay, I looked it up to see if that was true and first of all, yes it is, and second, he's also credited as Peri's VA, so I love that! I hadn't bothered to check who Peri's VA was, but that literally makes so much sense; their parents have always shared, so of COURSE they'd share too. That's so smart...

Hm... Can't say I'm the biggest fan of Foop's name changing to Irep and I'm not sure I like his design, but maybe it'll grow on me.

That said, the name change is a really clever way to get Irep to explain the lore of how he's the opposite of Peri without being info-dumpy.

I'm glad he kept his facial hair. And he's got big boy fangs! I miss his F-shaped hair curls, though, or maybe I need a better angle.

Hey, he has a dark jacket like the lab coat I gave him in my high school design. I wasn't far off!

No freckles, but in OG canon, they only really showed up when he flushed, so no surprise. I don't expect to see them, but it would be funny if he did flush and they were still there.

Also, I really like the ultraviolet glow of his crown. That makes so much sense.

Insert joke about how Anti-Fairies used to be invisible to the naked eye until Season 5

... He is actually REALLY cute. He looks a lot like his old self.

Are other Anti-Fairies also going to have square heads? I don't mind Foop having a square one if all his species does, but I'll be a bit surprised if he's the only creature with a cube head.

I think it's funny that they took away Peri's eyelashes when he grew up, but left Irep with one. That feels incredibly right.

I love his unique scruffy eyebrows. That's cute.

Irep, who previously had such a traumatizing experience as a godparent that he spent that episode screaming and crying, his magic souring in a range of colors all the way down to green in one of the only appearances of green magic in the series, and literally almost gave up on life before he gained the courage to lash out at Vicky despite knowing full-well his magic would immediately backlash and torture him for it: "I am once again ready to take responsibility for a mean human."

This only exacerbates my analysis of Peri not being ready for godkids and that's flippin' hilarious.

The nerd finally put on shoes!!

Dev wished for it to be tomorrow, so now it's tomorrow (waning crescent, of course).

No Dev-Irep sleepover? Robbed >:(

??? Obsessed with Hazel walking into school chatting about what she spent her night doing. I love how this means Irep just... yoinked Dev forward in time.

/horse in the hospital voice: I didn't know he could do that.

This episode's set-up & plot is just great in general.

Everyone else has gone to bed and Dev's had no sleep or breakfast. He needs a snack.

Ooh, wait- what? Mace wand!! ... I don't think I'll keep that in my canon, but that's a clever way to parallel Poof's staff. It's funny to me that the posh British boy did not get a staff. He WOULD like bashing people with the mace, huh?

It delights me to see Irep left-handed. He's been a leftie since the day he was born, all through to Season 10 :')

I like how Irep started crying when Dev told him he was "better than Peri." I mean... He's not wrong- that IS literally all Foop-Irep has wanted to hear since the minute he was born.

He is literally the same person he's always been. lol.

"Best of Luck" & "Two and a Half Babies"

I wonder if he's still claustrophobic, because that was, like... his big thing after escaping Abracatraz. I doubt it will come up (and he's much older now), but since he's an antagonist, I assume he has a weakness, and that would be an interesting one to bring back.

-> Actually if I'm remembering right, it was his alternate personality's phobia (Foop vehemently denying it while his alter literally screamed at the top of his lungs and doubled down), which is definitely implyin' somethin' about which of them remembers Abracatraz better. Hmm...

FINALLY! I don't think we ever got to see umbrellas open indoors as a form of bad luck in the OG series. It's one of those tiny questions always floating in the back of my mind, sdklfj.

I like how Dev still went to class. He has rule-breaking magic at his fingertips and this is where he's spending his time.

I guess it's not like he can leave the school; his whole goal is to get in that schoolwide Rock, Paper, Scissors competition.

I like Hazel eating from her popcorn bucket of 4-leaf clovers.

is Irep going to try to poke her and then, like... break out in hives or something? lol.

[bvidzsoo]

bvidzsoo's tumblr wrapped, 2024

tagged by the lovely @sorryimananti-romantic thank u! <3

2024 review

I've been writing for a very long time now, since I was like thirteen I'm not even joking, but 2024 was the year where I pumped out story after story, and I think it was also my most inspired year. I really loved creating so much and I wish time was more lenient with me so that I could write even more lol, but I've entered the 'real life' now and I'm sure updates and new stories will come slower from now on, sigh. My readers and mutuals definitely made the year more colourful and exciting, so thank you for the love and support you have shown me on here!

I'll try to wrap up my on-going stories this year, but I write for what I feel most inspired for, so I really cannot promise anything...

total statistics of 2024

no. of fics: 42 total wc: 533.4k (what would I do without my maths genius, thank you Mina! <3) no. of wips: 10 (and I keep getting ideas, sigh...)

genres explored in 2024

tbh, everything, I have really been the most creative this year, huh...from royal to dark fantasy, to gore and dystopian, to very fluffy and romance related stuff, heavy on crime and gore, action and thriller, plenty of supernatural too? yeah, I think this is it...

first fic of 2024: Who am I?

posted: january 10th

pairing: gangster/mafia!yunho x female reader

comments: this whole story is a 'joke' (it isn't actually), I started writing it on a whim, very randomly, without constructing an actual plot for it like I do all the time...with this one, I had a few outlined ideas and I just went with them lol...it was a funny experience because I cannot remember the last time I wrote anything so unplanned and unorganised (I think the story isn't bad tbh despite it)

longest fic: Preying on you tonight

posted: march 31st

pairing: werewolf!mingi x vampire!female reader

comments: man, I got the idea for this in the funniest way...I remember being in lecture and someone had a presentation in which they used Twilight as a reference, then Jacob was brought up later, and the truth is that I hate werewolf stuff/lore/fantasy LMAO, so I figured huh...what if a vampire (since I'm a vampire girlie) gets imprinted on by a werewolf she hates?? and since Halazia!Mingi will be forever iconic and I've always wanted to write something with him..tadaa, here's this gem that I still love very much lol

last fic: Is Santa the new Cupid?

posted: december 25th

pairing: hongjoong x female reader

comments: it was my first time partaking in any writing event and I so excited to write this! especially when I saw who I was writing for, hehehe...at the time I was also feeling super unwell due to a sudden health issue (which I'm still struggling with, sigh), so it took my mind off things a bit...before speaking to Kat, I had Seonghwa in mind as the lead, but she chose our Captain, so...the story came to life hehe

top 3 most popular fics of 2024

Preying on you tonight

comment: I'd like to add this bit since I've already talked about it...I certainly did not expect it to blow up this much, I didn't think people would enjoy this so much lol...but I'm grateful!!

The trace of you

posted: december 5th

pairing: psychiatrist!yunho x patient!female reader

comments: I watched the series Alias Grace and kind of became obsessed with it for a few days, so, uhm...this story came to life and it seemed very fitting to have Yunho as the male lead, so yeah...I had a lot of fun exploring their characters while trying to keep the essence of the series as well...but also giving it a shadow of mystery, I suppose

Obliviate Me

posted: july 29th

pairing: dark/evil!seonghwa x female reader

comments: if you look at the moodboard, you'll see the picture in the middle, yup, I was inspired by that one picture...when I saw it, I just knew I had to write something...I like Harry Potter a lot, and ig confession time: I'm obsessed with Tom Riddle's era and just his whole lore and such, hence his huge presence in the oneshot lol

Ariadne's personal picks

Marionette

posted: july 17th

pairing: Aphrodite's son!yeosang x Hera's daughter!female reader

comments: honestly, this whole Greek series I have created I'm obsessed with, but out of all the written drabbles, Yeosang's part is just >>> to me, I had so much fun writing this and I just genuinely love the plot I created, it's dark and twisted and not something I usually write...I wish more people would've liked it tho, sigh (also tmi, but all the titles in the series are taken from Red Velvet songs, wink)

Haunted me, haunting you

posted: september 23rd

pairing: victor!mingi x female reader

comments: I love the Hunger Gams like nothing else on this Earth, my thesis was also about the second book and quite frankly, I got this idea while writing my thesis, so...the Mingi in this story is very dear to me, writing him felt so tender and heartbreaking at the same time, I want to protect him from everyone ACK

Daemonium

posted: july 15th

pairing: demon!wooyoung x female reader

comments: man...writing this was a complete humour project to me...the plot was meant to be funny, the MC wasn't supposed to take anything seriously, and Wooyoung was supposed to attempt murder on her at least a dozen of times lmao...so yeah, idk how my humour landed, but I was so excited to write it and also amused by it, it was once again quite different from what I usually write, but I love the supernatural so I was in my element lol

2025 goals

hmm, I think I wish to continue writing like before and I pray I don't get a burn out lol, because I hate those

finish everything that I've started because I hate leaving unfinished stories, it irks me a lot

write more for ao3 since I have a bunch of mxm ideas as well, but ig I prioritise tumblr for now

I'll tag: @hongjoongspoetry @kitten4sannie & anyone who wants to do this! ^^

[quackquackcey]

Writers Wrap

(ty for the tag @demonicfaerie 💛 I am late to the game but hehehooha ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°))

Favorite Story you've worked on this year: i have no clue lol, Derek's Kumquat probably? Technically i worked on it dec 2023 & posted jan 2024 so idk if it counts as this year LOL, it was originally my fic idea for sterekreversechallenges' Sterek 1000 Cakes Challenge based on the word prompt 'kumquat' but the plotbunny was too fat for me to write in time 😂 I've reread it many times & like to laugh at the dumb kumquat puns & jokes everytime when I do 🤣 (also ofc the smut is peak 🤌)

Favorite character you've written this year: Stiles or Derek! Idk which though - Stiles is funner & easier to write for me in the sense that i tend to write him a bit rambly/there's more of a lighthearted tone to his inner monolgues/thoughts, but I actually relate to Derek a lot so depending on the fic, writing Derek's depression & struggles always feels cathartic to me, especially since I'm often in the midst of one of my fat depresso™️ waves when I write those fics LMAO 🤣

Favorite scene you've worked on this year: uhhhhh 👁👄👁 tbh i have the memory of a peanut - aka i dont remember shit unless i just finished writing it LMAO also i have fav scenes in most of my fics so imma just cop out on this 🤣

Favorite piece of inspiration you've used this year: uh do people count as inspiration LOL i shan't tag anyone, but renmackree my love always inspires me 💛 & posts from hotgirlstiles & kittykatstiles always get my sterek engine revving ahaha 🌝 i did try out songfics for the first time this year (which i heard are easier to write but honestly i find them challenging?? LMAO)

Favorite line or lines written this year: my peanut memory is failing me once more lmao 💀 but i will try, ummmm lemme pick lines/scenes from a fic i havent mentioned in my ao3 wrapped either - "You're my god"

*2 hrs later* i got sidetracked rereading it lmfao

He tore a scroll just as Theo opened a wooden box, and Stiles came face to face with an old friend. A thrill ran down his spine. "Ah," he said with a smile as runes flowed from the scroll to the earth. "It's you. It's been a long time since you possessed me." The nogitsune blanched, if that was possible. "You—! It can't be!" Stiles laughed, finally standing up from where he'd sat behind Derek as he pulled his bat out of a swirl of wind. "I end all things that begin, but have no end. What am I?" The nogitsune took a step back, then another. Stiles strolled forward. "I end all things that begin, but have no end," he repeated, tapping his bat against his shoulder. "What am I?" Theo took one look between Stiles' smile and the retreating nogitsune and tried to escape—Scott pinned him down to the ground with a conflicted grimace. "C'mon now," said Stiles as Derek came to stand beside him on the porch, slashing down the wall of earth one of the gods conjured with a flick of a claw. "I thought you loved riddles." He slashed his palm, ichor spreading over his bat, and the nogitsune froze. "I end all things that begin, but have no end," he spoke, winds blowing. "What am I?" The nogitsune tried to flee, the winds blocked their way. They turned back towards Stiles. "Death," they said, and Stiles slammed a hole out of their side with a booming crack of his bat.

--

Heat radiated in thrumming, scorching waves as the blazing sphere of fire descended on him, and he waited for the last second, when all eyes would be on him, to open the crack once again; he waited for his skin to begin burning, smoking, to clench his fist with a resounding cra— Nothing but cold, cold air touched him. No breeze, no smoke, no fire. All he saw before him were clouds and for a moment, he thought that he'd been sealed away, until he noticed that the other gods still stood there, silent, staring at the clouds as well.  The thin clatter of an arrow dipped in liquid violet shot by Hoderi, God of the Sea, broke and fell to Derek's feet, an echoing pindrop amongst the speechless hush. It was only when Stiles' arms wrapped around him that he realized. The entire top half of the chamber had disappeared. Clouds stretched out before them past the razor sharp edges of the shortened walls, cut in a single slash so quick and clean that it cleaved through the walls in a soundless sweep like butter without anyone noticing until after the fact. And the cause of it floated behind him, arms looped around his neck—one hand lifted to cut an ichor-tinged line through the air, and Hoderi's head rolled to the floor. What remained of the chamber roared back to life. Attacks rained on them, but Derek just stared at the way Stiles' wet eyes blazed as the skies darkened and the clouds thundered with vengeful rage. Tears mixed with ichor left gold-tinged tracks on Stiles' cheeks, and maybe it was because Derek's vision darkened around the edges or because his body couldn't feel anything past the poison throbbing through his veins, but he brushed his lips against Stiles' face to kiss the tear tracks away, a barely there graze.

god sterek au my beloved

Written piece or accomplishment this year: all my fics are accomplishments to me ngl LOL the longer fics take more time & effort ofc but the shorter ones present a diff challenge 💛 is that a cop out answer lmao? the feral wind that lit him ablaze is the obvious one aside from Derek's Kumquat, but i'll also stick my 1st songfic golden hour here & "You're my god" bc the latter had a month deadline & I wrote that whole month & still had to cramwrite my ass off....LMAO 😭 totally my fault though for deciding to do god au worldbuilding for it frnjekfen

no specific tags, just an open tag from me if anyone wants to do it bc im late as shit & probs everyone has done this already LMAO

[ryuichirou]

Replies

About Ace/Fellow, about fem!Idia and boobies, about f!Floyd/m!Riddle and femdom in general…

Anonymous asked:

Hi! I'm not sure if this is allowed or not but would it be alright for me to write something that's inspired by your friday the 13th drawing of idia and the octotrio? - @sevensinswithin

Hi, Anon! First of all, thank you very much for enjoying that artwork and for being inspired by it. I really mean it: it means a lot, and I am very happy that you felt vibes from it that got you into a creative mode, so to speak.

I’ll be very honest with you; I am a bit conflicted on this one. Technically, it isn’t a proper AU yet, and with no story attached to it yet I can’t really say that it’s not allowed. However, it’s a very personal piece to us since it’s our anniversary drawing from last year, so I am hesitant to say yes. There is just too much personal meaning put into it, even if it is just a drawing of the boys being creeps.

I don’t like refusing stuff like that and restricting others from creating art, on a lot of levels it feels wrong, but with some drawings I can’t help but feel this way. I hope you don’t take it personally because I really appreciate you even asking me about it. I am very sorry.

Anonymous asked:

Malleus i love you, stop trying to make me simp for you more than sebek

He is doing it on purpose, Anon. And he doesn’t even feel bad about it, he is so smug!

Anonymous asked:

i’ve recently developed the desire to ship ace x fellow and have no one to talk about it with.

them both being tricksters is so good!

currently imagining an alt playful land where Fellow takes ace under his wing grooming him into the business and ace sacrificing his friends.

sorry for using your ask box for this but ughhh

also i love your work!.

First of all, thank you for sharing and thank you for enjoying our stuff!! <3

Second of all, this is such a good ship! EXACTLY because Ace is like a fox puppy that could get coerced by Fellow to join and help. He would definitely be very useful to him, and the idea of Ace choosing Fellow instead of NRC and his friends is so wrong in a good way! Because the first thought is like, how could you, Ace? But with Fellow’s unique magic and overall, and Ace being prone to breaking rules and easily buying the lifestyle that Fellow is presenting to him, it’s so easy to imagine.

The Fellow + Gidel duo would become a trio, and Ace’s signature card tricks would invite the attention of a lot of fools whose money they would steal… isn’t it romantic?

But also of course, Fellow being a way older partner and Ace being a sly little brat makes their dynamic even more fun. It’s so easy to picture flirtations interactions and even more.

Good taste, Anon~

Anonymous asked:

…..

So Idia is a boobie girl, huh?

(likely related to a comic from ko-fi)

Hmmm, I think it was something similar to cuteness aggression. For some reason, she really really really felt like squeezing it at that exact moment, and lost the interest just as quickly. It happens from time to time, partially because she has less filter around Azul. Idia is not super obsessed with her boobs, but since she herself is pretty flat, big and heavy ones are pretty unusual and spark her interest!

(Also, we got an ask about this topic that requires a longer reply, so I’ll talk about all of girlies… at some point!)

Anonymous asked:

Opinion on fem dom and a male sub? Like fem Floyd on a male Riddle?

How would sex work? Would Floyd peg riddle since the dom is the one penetrating?

Hmm, good question, Anon 🤔 We actually do get ships like that every now and then (in fact it’s one of rare het ship dynamics that we enjoy lol), so it would be a lie to say that it’s a complete “no”; but as things always are with female+male couples for us, we aren’t as interested in those, so it’s harder to imagine things. So while I wouldn’t necessarily be against f!Floyd/m!Riddle, this isn’t where my brain naturally goes…

Unfortunately, I don’t really like pegging; otherwise it would have been a good solution. But somehow shoving an object in Riddle’s butt doesn’t feel as off for some reason?? And a finger too; luckily, this tall lady has very long and strong ones. Stay strong, Riddle…

In some rare situations, despite the obvious contradiction to our usual principles, the dom could be penetrated; you know the pose when the guy lies down missionary-style and has his legs lifted up despite his peen penetrating the lady, and the lady basically fucks him like that? Something among those lines. But once again, it’s very hit-or-miss, and I can’t quite explain logically when it works and when it doesn’t. 🤔

I feel like I just made it more confusing that it was before lol so let me say things that I am 100% sure of: boy Riddle would absolutely get destroyed by fem!Floyd, and his entire world would filled with nonsensical ideas about girls needing to be ladies and virgins and wives would be brutally shattered by her acting crudely, suffocating him with her tits, playing with his butt, overstimulating him, and marking him with her fluids. Riddle probably won’t get inside her, but her rubbing against him would make Riddle feel just as violated… maybe even more so because he couldn’t do anything “like a man”.

[blackbutlerfandomnerddomain]

Twst au where everyone of the nrc student bois are dating kalim

All of them. The whole (named) nrc cast

Headcanons?? 👀

Boo this was originally meant to be posted FOREVER AGO but this took me so long to finally find the words, find fanart, fics were discovered, prompts were randomly generated, and at long last the Kalim Harem Ship is here~!

First off, theme songs:

I can most defiantly picture him singing any of these to his partners, especially extra flirty or if he senses they're insecure.

I see him singing Perfect and Just the Way you Are to basically Jamil, Riddle, Azul, and Idia while he sings If I Had You in all his concerts or just goofy and flirty in the living room

Spoils his lover A LOT

Ruggie and Azul and Vil are loving it a bit too much lol

Nothing happened for a while and EVERYONE was collectively equally flustered and shy about the fact they love the same guy, some where holding back and giving up for others while others just didn't know how to act with these feelings

Meanwhile Kalim knew he liked them all just didn't see a issue of it until his family pressured him to think about the line of brides they picked out for him

He kept thinking back on everything and decided he was just gonna date someone from NRC to get them off his back

BUT HE COULDN'T PICK!

Ace's freckles were so cute

Deuce's sweetness and loyal soul melts his heart

Jack's muscles are a bonus but he adores his fluffy tail

Epel's attitude on rules and how you should act inspire him

He finds Sebek's eyes the prettiest gems in the world

Riddle's red hair is a beautiful red and his brave soul is a plus

Ruggie's humor is magic to his soul and his big heart doesn't help!

Azul's confidence and singing are a peaceful spell

Floyd's energy is amazing and his food is amazing

Jade's honesty is refreshing and his hobbies, though weird, are cute

And Jamil, what can he not name what he loves about Jamil???

Silver's eyes and quirky sleep habits drew that boy like a moth to a flame

Trey's baking and kind eyes and his loyalty wins his heart instantly

Cater's personality equals his own and his eyes and smile are the brightest star in the galaxy

Leona's chill attitude on royal stuff makes him calm and his purrs and loyalty to those who are "lesser" than him makes it better

Vil's beauty was a win sure but he was drawn first with those beautiful colors and singing voice but stayed due to his mind

Rook's view of beauty and his strong loyalty was impressive and hot lets be honest for him and the laughter they share is treasure

Idia's unique beauty and speech makes him curious, even more with how much he cares for his brother dearly

Malleus' curiously and fascination of everything and everyone was a selling point alongside his kind soft nature

And Lilia's humor, his style, his loyalty and bravery saves him from a sad day when no one else could help him

WHY WAS HE IN A SCHOOL FULL OF BEAUTIFUL AND PERECT MEN AND BABES!?!

It finally came to light when Kalim finally broke during school and hid in Scarabia for almost a week, not even Jamil could convince him to come out which was when alarms starting going off for the servant boy

Jamil finally informed the other dorm leaders and those who ask Kalim seems to not be feeling well and now everyone's worried for Kalim and all go to see him in Scarabia.

EVEN IDIA WENT OUT OF HIS HOME TO CHECK ON HIM!

Kalim's denying hard of the reason until Jamil, through push and shove, made him confess by ordering the truth with Ruggie's power's help keeping him still

Kalim tearfully confessed, crying harder as he vent outside Snake's Whisper and sobbed about his feelings for them all soon after

Everyone was like "You like him..? Wait me? Wait what-" at first until Jamil wiped Kalim's face with a tissue and soothed him and then Silver piped up he liked Kalim back

This soon started a string after Sebek got jealous and confessed too which made Ace jealous and yeah you get the picture everyone said they liked Kalim back and Kalim was growing more and more red

Everyone basically left alone for the rest of the week to decide what he wants to do

No one slept that week not even Silver as they contemplated what'll happen and fearing the friendship of Kalim and the others will be ruined

Riddle held a secret late night meeting, first time he broke a rule in a while, with Trey, Cater, Ace, and Deuce and they chatted a bit before Riddle confessed saying he's willing to abandoned his feelings if that means they are happy

Leona, Ruggie, and Jack were a bit tense but Jack sat them down and talked in which Leona said he wouldn't be shocked if Kalim preferred someone else

Ocavinelle were shocked to see the Leech Twins and Azul argue one night about the other being selfish and soon all exclaimed "Kalim wouldn't want a ugly octopus/crazy eel/forgotten one like me!" which shuts them up and even Floyd apologizes for fighting with them

Jamil did so much to not let the idea of Kalim loving others hurt him. He accepted since his first realization of his feelings won't be good but he can't help but be angry and sad about the idea Kalim was hurting

Epel was very open about voicing how he feels about the situation. Him, Rook, and Vil were really showing their ugly flaws during some nights when they fought over A) I deserve him more and B) You're a coward to give up

Idia just locked down most. He accepted he was no where near the top three picks for perfect boyfriend for Kalim but as those hours ticked he slowly felt sick as he couldn't stop seeing Kalim smiling at him

Draconia, similar to Savanaclaw, was tense for a while. But like Heartslabyul, they hosted a secret meeting to discuss the options before them when they kind of got emotional with jealous emotions than sadness about what they were being like and huddling close like they used to back in the days

Then one day Kalim returned to physical classes. He started helping with Jamil's chores to make it easier for him, and everyone else was very easing back and just being good friends and not pushing him to give a verdict yet

This soon led to Kalim asking them to meet in Scarabia for a party which once everyone else hit the hay/left he confessed properly to them all including the things I mentioned above and in the end mentioned he likes them all the same and can't decide so he requested they all date each other to see what happens

There was some objections (mostly Jamil 'cuz "what would your family think'') but pretty much everyone soon agreed to try it out and will accept Kalim's choice if he decides differently (please send me a ask on their dates PLEASE DAMN THE LIMIT!)

This happened with Riddle one karaoke date ay Scarabia for all with Kalim recording (I like to hc he had a great voice)

Kalim was heart broken when he was still forced to find a bride despite loving so many, he fell deep into depression and the next concert sang this

Neige and Chenya didn't join until MUCH later due to them finding Kalim pretty and Kalim in turn asked them out, things got used for them right away

Vil and Neige sang this after catching one of this girls sent by his family (Vil being Jade and Neige being Cat)

LOTS OF CUDDLES

Jamil was the hardest to accept this change but soon grew as he saw how much the others mattered to them, since they also helped him in so many ways

Kalim uses Oasis Maker a lot for his partners, especially Floyd and Jade

Chenya gets so much pets from Kalim and food for Jamil lol

I want to do a part 2 and art! I'm sorry it's not much there's a word limit apparently so PLEASE ASK THIS AGAIN SO I CAN WRITE MORE OR HAVE A EXCUSE TO MAKE THIS MORE FUN!!

[delta-lethonomia]

H, P, R from the fanfic author ask meme!

H: How would you describe your writing style?

Hm… I like to think it's like if the Twin Peaks prequel movie Fire Walk With Me was a vibe, lol.

I hope for poignant and gripping, like watching an tragic accident as it unfolds that everyone knew was going to happen, the signs were all there, but it couldn't be stopped. I do realize it gets a bit dramatic though 😅 but I think the narrative is so colored by Tav's perspective it feels like being in her head, and I really like that, and that's what I want it to feel like. Personal but dissociative, everything is seen through a warped hue, and because it's so "in her head" it can be less precise and more intuitive, even if it's confusing sometimes. Taking the fun bits of purple prose and writhing in it.

P:  Where did you find the most inspiration for your story < insert title >?

So I assume you mean For All The Wrong Reasons because that's the big one lol. Tbh, because I developed Tav around Astarion, his influence and his story cannot be overstated, and there's a lot of personal character traits in her and me that I wanted to play with. Honestly I'm not really aware of the type of lowgrade toxic-yet-loving femdom in other media, so it's more that I wanted to write something that filled a hole I've been thinking about for a while. There are a lot of nice, endlessly giving Tavs in bg3 fic (or at least there were early on back when I was reading it), so I wanted to write something very different specifically to contrast. I will say though, I spent far too much time in the Naruto fandom as a kid and I think my obsession with Uchiha Madara rewired my brain chemistry. There's a lot of things with him and Obito that still make my brain go 'ping!', so those character stories/vibes still have a lot of influence I think.

Other than that it's mostly music. I wrote the majority of the earlier chapters and plot listening to Electric Callboy, specifically the songs "Parasite", "Hate/Love", "Fuckboi", and "Crystals." Other influential songs were "Crystaleyes" by AViVA, and some older songs by Florence + the Machine, such as "Kiss With A Fist," "Drumming Song", "Heavy In Your Arms", and "Hardest of Hearts."

Stinging Nettle Wine came about because I'm a sad tormented bisexual who's deep in the female side of the bi-cycle right now while married monogamously to a man, and I have a lot of thoughts about toxic sibling dynamics.

R: Which writers (fanfic or otherwise) do you consider the biggest influence on you and your writing?

Ooooof. The Carnivorous Muffin and Vinelle, for their Twilight and Harry Potter fics, taking characters down plotlines that make perfect sense character-wise but are so utterly wild you'd never expect them. (It's like the movie The Substance - utterly insane in the best way, but positive, y'know? Like I understand how we got here, but the ride was something else.)

Anything by astolat, specifically her Game of Thrones fics, just because I can point to them and say, "Look, fanfic is real literature. This is phenomenal. You can be a real author and still write fanfic."

Diablerie by Oceanbreeze7, a Tom Riddle (HP) fanfic that haunts me to this day, and whose visuals and philosophical content matter made my brain very happy. Anything by Metalomagnetic (HP). Anything by Tozette (HP & Naruto), though Dirt & Ashes holds a special place in my heart. The Last Ones Standing by olliya (Naruto, for having a post-apocalypse and sticking to it.) Five Kingdoms for the Dead by Evil Is A Relative Term, another Naruto fic that had some influence over baby me for sure.

I feel like there's two distinct bins here, the fics I like for their tight plot and commitment to character development and agency, and the fics I like for the visuals and philosophy, how dark they are while not being torture porn 😅 When it comes to writing style though, I know I have liked fics with the sort of disjointed quality I tend to write in, but I can't think of them at the moment. I've only recently started bookmarking things on ao3 so there's a lot of stuff that's just lost to time and memory, even though I've been reading fanfic since 2005 or so.

[luminous-letters]

Hi! Can i have a oneshot or scenarios with idia? inspired the song "No friends" by Cadmium ? Where the prefect of the ramshackle (reader) noticed that idia doesn't have any friends in outside despite him being a shut-in-otaku, so reader decide they wanted to be friends with Idia, even they're a normie (but they are also a fan of manga/anime lol), they still wants to friends with him so that he wont be lonely.

Reader helps Idia touch some grass (and maybe get some friends in the process)

Idia Shroud was never an outside person. Most of his time was passed with either tinkering with some of the latest magical parts and accessories or a three-hour grind quest on some RPG game.

That didn't change even after he got accepted into Night Raven College.

He didn't have any friends outside of his servers and guilds and he was fine with that. He could manage, he didn't need to listen to their uninteresting chatter. He'd rather spend some time with Ortho.

That sort of mentality carried on until his third year. He was now Ignihyde's housewarden and was in charge of keeping maintenance of the campus' internet.

That was until you, the rumored magicless human that got 'teleported' to this world, came along. Your knowledge of the art of gaming and comics were mediocre at best, but that didn't stop you from bothering him. More often than not he'd find you knocking on his door.

Did he let you in? No.

He underestimated your persistence, it was...annoyingly sweet. When he'd ask you "Why? Why are you still here? Leave me alone?" you'd usually answer with either, "You need some friends." or "Because you're lonely."

His attempts to keep you off his tail were so far so good. He could play a bit more without your constant pestering, or so he thought.

You were even more dangerous (determined) now. And to add insult to injury, Ortho even gave you his blessing. He was tempted to power up the dorm's intruder defense system, but decided against it.

After a week or so he finally gave in. The cold metal doors, the only barrier between him and the outside world, were opened at last. Your sunny disposition was out of place in the bleak and dreary energy of his room.

"W-what do you want...? The meeting already passed a week ago..." He leered, eyeing your rather colorful taste in clothes. He remembered Ortho telling him that it looked cute. In his opinion it looked hideous. Why can't you opt for something that's less of an eyesore, maybe something gray or something—

"You need to go outside, even Ortho's asking me to get you out of your room." You replied, cutting off Idia's stream of thoughts and rambles.

"No." He bluntly replied, quickly trying to retreat to his room. Thump. The sound of his back against the now closed door rang in the ghostly empty halls.

"W-what? Ortho? Ortho...!" Idia called from the comms panel. "Sorry, brother. But MC's right, you need some sunshine! The day's very nice today!" Came Ortho's voice from the static, quickly cutting off transmission after a beep.

"Come on, if you don't like it too much outside you can crash at my dorm." You offered to a still unconvinced Idia.

"Trust me, if you still don't like it after this I won't be pestering you anymore." You seemed honest enough. "Fine..." He sighed. He can't believe he's going to do this.

A few unprecedented hijinks with three of the most extroverted students in the whole of Sage Island, teatime with Riddle, a quick round of TWSTopoly in Octavinelle, and a chase with Lucius later, Idia was comfortably sitting in Ramshacle's sofa with a cold cup of yogurt in hand.

Ortho decided to drop in earlier. The young shroud was happily petting a sleeping Grim, moving his TWSTopoly piece a couple spaces forward.

"This is...nice." Idia commented, taking another spoonful of the blueberry-flavored dessert. He seemed much relaxed now than he was earlier, azure wisps of his flaming hair looked gentle.

"See? It's good to come out once in a while." You chirped, rolling a pair of dice.

This feeling wasn't too bad, he thinks. And he enjoyed seeing you and Ortho having a nice round at TWSTopoly. To go outside was rare for him and was certainly uncomfortable, but you made it all worthwhile. Kudos to you. Three stars. All perfect, level clear!

Maybe having a friend isn't too bad after all.

[f0rever15elf]

They Were Roommates: Part 2. Jealousy

Part 2 of They Were Roommates: Part 1 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5  / Part 6 / Part 7 (Coming soon) Pairing: Moder!Pero Tovar x f!reader Rating: NC-17 Word count: 6,010 Warnings: so much smut (i’m not sorry), oral (f receiving), vaginal sex, lots of swearing, restraining, over stimulation, tiny bit of angst (for the spice) 

Summary: The first intimate night with Pero has been weighing heavily on your mind. A night out with his coworkers helps to fix everything. 

A/N: Thanks to @whiskeyslasso​ for so many of the inspiring ideas, and for convincing me to make this into a multi-part series. Also, for your sweet words about the first part. I hope this lives up to your expectations.  How many parts? I dunno, let’s see when I run out of ideas lol. I can’t even begin to tell you how long I spent staring at the wall trying to work this part out. 

Masterlist |  Ao3

Life with Pero didn’t really change much after that night you asked him to stay with you. Not quickly, anyways. You both still go to work, you still prepare dinners, and he still helps to clean the house. The only real notable difference is how much closer Pero stays to you. When you cook, he is either sitting at the bar watching you, or leaning against the counter in silence as he observes. When you share a moment of down time on the couch, he pulls you to his side, draping his arm around your shoulder as calloused fingers dance along the curve of your body. But the biggest difference is that your room slowly becomes your shared room. With each progressing day, more and more of Pero’s clothes make their way into your massive closet, taking up the other half that is usually kept empty. Your sheets take on his smell and his toiletries find their way to the counter next to yours.

It was comfortable.

The only thing you don’t really like is how unspoken everything is between the two of you. You had never really talked about the night of intimacy you two shared after he caught you with your pants down, literally. You had thought that labels didn’t really matter to you, but with Pero, you find yourself wanting them. You want that affirmation that what you have with this grump is more than just a mutual comfort in the embrace of another, warding off the years of loneliness. You want to be able to call Pero well and truly yours.

Fingers snap in front of your face and you zero back in on reality. Pero stares at you, the corners of his lips tugging downwards as his eyebrow arches in question. “You still with me, hermosa?” Your cheeks heat up as you attempt to stutter out a reply.

“Y-yeah, sorry, I don’t know where I went just now. What were you saying?” You scratch at the back of your neck, an anxious habit.

“I asked you if you have to work this weekend. Friday night.” He crosses his arms, leaning back in the bar chair as he watches you attempt to save dinner, the chicken looking a little crispier than you would have personally liked as you flip it.

“Shit,” you mumble, disappointed, before looking back up. “No, I don’t. I have Saturday off also. Why?” Pero just shrugs, not saying anything and it’s your turn for your eyebrow to arch. “What are you planning, gruñón?”

“I’m planning nothing,” he grumbles, staring you down.

“You know, I really don’t believe you,” you mutter as you grab two plates down, serving up the chicken and rice before hopping up in your seat next to Pero. Your leg rests against his as you eat in silence, the touch comfortable and familiar at this point. The silence allows your mind to wander again,  thinking about just what exactly this was, what it could become. You weren’t even sure if that was something Pero was looking for. Hell, you hadn’t realized it was something you were looking for until the thought of spending your life without your Spaniard caused an ache to riddle your chest. Falling hard into your daze again, you don’t realize that Pero has already cleared your places until he quickly rotates the seat of the chair, caging you between his arms as you yelp.

“Hermosa, you don’t seem well. Lost in a daze all day…” His rich, dark eyes scan your face, and you could swear that worry creased his brow just a bit more than his scowl already did. His face, his body so close to yours kicks your heart into a sprint as you press back into your seat, eyes wide.

“I just have a lot on my mind, Pero. It’s nothing.” His steady gaze holds yours long enough that you fidget in your seat, worrying he was going to call your bluff. Slowly, ever so slowly, he leans forward until his lips are level with your ear. The feeling of his breath against your skin sends a shiver down your spine and you have to bite your lip to keep from whimpering.

“Then why don’t I fuck you until the only thought you have is of how much pleasure my cock brings you buried inside that needy cunt?” The huskiness of his voice shatters all resolve you have and you melt, hands snapping up to grip his arms as a whimper finally makes its way past your lips. He nips at the shell of your ear before pressing his lips to your neck, sucking and nibbling at the exposed skin. Your head falls to the side as you let out a needy whine, fingers digging into his biceps. Pero presses himself as close to you as the chair will allow, spreading your knees so he can stand between them. When a gentle beg for more passes your lips, Pero pulls back, staring down at you with a look so dark and hungry that you feel as if your body will spontaneously combust.

Strong hands move from caging you to the chair to rest on your thighs, inching up under the bottom of your shorts. The touch feels electric along your skin, raising goosebumps along it as you squirm in your seat. His hands move at a maddeningly slow pace, avoiding the heat at your center in favor of gripping your hips. His eyes never leave yours as he gauges your reaction, unable to get enough of the sight of you.

“P-Pero please, don’t tease me like this,” you beg, your eyes reflecting your need and desire as you can feel a wet spot rapidly growing in your panties. With a growl, he crashes his lips to yours, swallowing your pleas with fervor. He pulls his hands from your shorts, instead grabbing your legs to wrap them around his waist before sliding his hands under your ass to lift you out of the chair. Your arms wrap around his neck, holding yourself to him as he carries you back to the bedroom, his lips never leaving yours. A little nibble to his bottom lip draws a groan out of him before he lays you down on the bed, laying himself on top of you. Impatient fingers tangle themselves in the thick curls at his neck, tugging them to hear that delicious moan you pulled from him the last time you found yourself in such a position. And oh dose it work like a charm.

The guttural moan Pero lets out goes straight to your core and you wrap your legs tightly around him, pulling his hips down against your as you rock your hips up against his, desperate for some kind of relief. His hands grip your hips in response, holding them firmly to the mattress as he pulls back, eyes raking up and down your body. “Fuck…” he breathes, watching you writhe under his grasp, lost in your own desperate desire.

In a flash, Pero’s hands leave your hips only to yank your shorts off your body, tossing them somewhere on the floor. You shiver at the sudden cool air brushing over you and the predatory smile works its way across the Spaniard’s lips that raises every single hair on your body in anticipation of what he has planned for you.

“I think dessert is in order, eh hermosa?” He scoots down the bed until he is level with your absolutely dripping slit. He hums in appreciation as his fingers spread you wide, drawing a heat to your face as you grab his hair. “Look at you, so desperate for me.” How is it he could say such things so easily? His words absolutely ruined you every time, and you weren’t sure if you go get any wetter. When he finally takes your clit into his mouth, you damn near come up off of the bed, curling up around his head as he absolutely devours you. Your legs wrap up around his head, but he lets you go long enough to press your legs back against the bed, effectively holding your down, spread wide for him as he savors the taste of you on his lips. The hairs of his mustache tickle you in the most delicious of manners as his tongue delves inside of you, tearing a keen of pleasure from your throat.

You weren’t prepared for when he eases two fingers into your dripping slit, his tongue running circles around your clit in a way that had you seeing stars. Your walls clench around his fingers and he groans against you, his own hips grinding against the bed as he seeks his own pleasure. As your fingers curl tighter in his hair, you lay back against the bed, your back arched and eyes screwed shut. The sounds of him sucking and licking at you, the squelches of his fingers plunging inside of you, were absolutely obscene. And you love every second of it.

As he picks up the pace of his thrusts, you begin to pant and whine, begging for him to let you cum. You were so fucking close, teetering right on that edge, you just needed a little bit more. Reading your body, he drags his teeth lightly against your clit and you scream as your stomach tightens, euphoria washing over you. Pero continues to thrust his fingers into you, still sucking at your clit until it becomes to much and you lightly push him away, your chest heaving from the intensity of your orgasm.

As he sits up, resting on his heels, his tongue runs along his lips to collect the traces of you shining on his face before licking every drop from his fingers. You weren’t sure you have ever seen something more erotic. Your eyes dip quickly to his waist where you find his bulge straining in his pants to the point where it looked uncomfortable, and a smirk works across your lips. Getting on to your hands and knees, you crawl towards him, pressing your lips to his in a hungry kiss. The taste of you on his lips draws a moan from you and you reach to palm his cock through his pants. He bucks into your touch, letting you have this moment of presumed control.

“You know, I still have all of these thoughts in my head,  gruñón.” The words tumble from your lips, dripping with as much desire and intention as you can manage as you glance up at him from under your lashes. You see the fire in his gaze flare and he grabs your wrists, pulling your hands from his pants and up over your head. His head tilts ever so slightly and your heart stutters, your breathing picking up.

“Que mala.” you shiver at his words, trembling with want in his grasp.

“P-please…” The quivering of your voice is impossible to stop, and Pero’s smirk widens. He lets go of your hands which drop to your sides and presses firmly on your chest, pushing you back onto the mattress. The gasp that earns him sounds like music to his ears. He steps from the bed to rid himself of his clothes and you move to sit up until he passes a serious look your way, with the slight shake of his head. You lay yourself back down, swallowing thickly.

Once rid of the offending garments, he slowly climbs back over you, capturing your lips in an absolutely starved kiss that leaves you breathless before reaching into the nightstand to grab out a foil. He raises it to his teeth, ready to rip it open until you grab his wrist.

“L-Let me,” you beg, and he shivers.

“Fuck...beg in that voice and I will bring you the world, hermosa.” He allows you to take the packet from his hand and you use your own teeth to slowly tear it open. You take his leaking cock in your hand, pumping him twice, reveling in the hiss between his teeth as he bucks into your hand before you slowly roll the condom on to him. As soon as you do, he grabs your hands, forcing you back onto the bed with your hands pinned above your head in one of his. You bite your lip in anticipation, bucking up against him and he growls, running his other hand down your body before lining himself up, slowly easing in to you. Your jaw drops and you toss your head back, letting out a silent scream of pleasure as he fills you so completely. You feel his eyes on you as you revel in your own pleasure, bucking up against him wantonly. His hand grabs your hip firmly, holding your down as he thrusts into you so fucking slowly you could scream.

Squirming against his hand holding yours, you let out a needy sob, your face so contorted with pleasure and need. Pero watches you, drinking in every bit of your beauty as the sounds escaping you severely test his resolve. It’s only when your eyes open, delirious and glassy with pleasure, and your lip trembles with the ghost of a beg on them that he snaps his hips against you, ramping up his pace. He drops his head to your neck, sucking yet another mark along the tender skin there as he plows you into the matters, each thrust tearing pleasured screams from your throat.

“Yes, yes, yes oh my god, PERO!” His name on your lips because of how he fucks you drives him mad and he tilts his lips to your ear.

“So fucking beautiful, como una diosa,” he grunts, the sound of skin smacking against skin ringing in your ears. You let out another pleasured whine as his hand runs along your stomach before slipping between your bodies, rubbing your clit in languid circles, a harsh juxtaposition to the brutal pace his hips have set. Your cries of pleasure turn strangled as you arch off the bed, begging for release. Begging him to let you cum. He nips at your ear, picking up the pace of his rubbing as he growls into your ear. “Cum, maravillosa. Scream my name and cum for me. Let the neighbors know who fucks you like this.”

That was all you needed. A blinding white light flashes through your vision as you arch up off of the bed, your walls clenching down tightly on Pero’s cock as he keeps up his harsh pace, riding you through it. Your toes curl and your fists clench as his name echoes off the walls of your room. Everything is totally him, the only thought you can bring together being how good he feels, how good every point of contact with him feels. How desperately you want this to be how you always exist, totally consumed with him, by him. The whimpers and moans from your lips bring Pero to his own climax, his hips slamming against yours as he captures your lips once again, crushing his to yours. He groans into your mouth as he thrusts shallowly a few more times before breaking the kiss, gazing down at you with a smirk.

The look of you can only be described as “thoroughly fucked out,” and he twitches inside of you at the sight, knowing he’s the one who left you like this. His hand releases yours, but you don’t move, too exhausted to. As he eases himself out of you, his soft moan matches yours. He leans down to brush the hair from your face and press a kiss to your forehead before he moves to the bathroom to clean himself up, bringing you a glass of water as he returns. You graciously accept, your throat raw from your screams of pleasure.  

“And how are those thoughts now, hermosa?” He settles into the bed beside you, smirking at you.

“What thoughts?” You grin back at him and he chuckles, shaking his head before closing his eyes as he enjoys the light feeling of his release relaxing his body. You prop yourself up on your elbows, looking down at him as he rests. This was one of those few times where the frown lines of his forehead smooth out, his face relaxed. He looks so peaceful and you’d never tire of seeing it. The smile on your face fades ever so slightly as your previous thoughts slowly worm their way back to the forefront of your mind. He said he would never leave you, but what if he had just been placating you? He needed a roof over his head still, what if he had just said what you had wanted to hear so you wouldn’t kick him out?

A frown tugs at the corners of your lips as you get up, sighing at feeling so thoroughly spent. Maybe a shower would clear your mind. Pero grumbles, rolling over to watch you as you strip out of the shirt that never got removed in your haste. You were still acting strange, he thought, but he wasn’t sure what was the matter. And, well, if you wouldn’t talk to him, there wasn’t much he could do. At the sound of the water turning on, he closes his eyes and drifts off to sleep.

Under the water, you close your eyes, trying to let the droplets take your anxieties with them as they roll down your skin. You had to be overthinking things, you just had to be. Over the months you had spent with Pero under your roof, you had learned one thing; if he was displeased with something, he let you know. You needed to just...let this go, and let things develop if they were going to. With a sigh, you turn off the water, stepping out and drying off, wrapping the towel around you as you head to your dresser for a change of clothes.

Laying yourself next to Pero feels like the most natural thing in the world. His arm drapes across your waist, pulling you against him with a soft grumble before he dozes back off, and you could laugh at how often you found yourself like this, your cheek pressed up against his chest. The steady thrum of his heartbeat strong in his chest echoes in your ear, and your own falls into cadence as you relax against him, joining him in sleep.

For the next few days, you don’t see much of each other. Work has been keeping you late so by the time you get home, Pero is asleep, usually on the couch. He loved his security detail job, but it was physically demanding and left him exhausted pretty early into the night. It bordered on a blessing, him being asleep by the time you got home, allowing you to sneak to your room after covering him up to be alone with your thoughts and avoid his prying gaze as he still tries to figure out what was driving you mad.

Friday finally rolls around and you head off for your morning shift, leaving Pero sleeping soundly in your bed, not wanting to wake him on one of his rare days off. You are sure he had been planning something, the man had practically been GLUED to his phone for the past three days, something he rarely did. What you weren’t expecting, was to come home around lunch time to see him in the kitchen, cooking. Or, well, attempting to cook anyways. The smell of burnt sugar hangs in the air causing your nose to crinkle.

“Pero…? What...are you doing?” His head snaps up, the look on his face that of a kid with his hand caught in the cookie jar before the stoic, grumpy look replaces it once again. You wander into the kitchen to see the mess he’s made. It looked like your pantry had exploded and you arch an eyebrow, staring at him.

“How you do this every night, I will never understand,” he grumbles, moving a smoking pan with two charcoal briquettes off of the burner, turning off the heat.

“You mean cooking?” you chuckle, hopping up in the bar chair across from him. “Dad taught me from before I was able to see up onto the counter. What, uh….what did you utterly destroy in that pan there?”

He scoffs, tossing the spatula into the pan that you really hoped wasn’t ruined. “It was fish. At one point, anyways.” You bite your lip to fight back the smile that wants to split you lips at how irritated he sounded, like this whole debacle was the fish’s fault.

“And...why did you do this…?” He looks up at you in response, staring at you again with that intensity that he has carried with him since the night you first saw him. It causes your pulse to quicken and you clear your throat, sitting back in the chair.

“I thought it would be...nice,” he mutters under his breath, turning to put some of the…many…dirty dishes into the dishwasher. “We need to eat before we go, anyways.”

“Go? Go where?” He turns around, still scowling as he cleans and you hop up to help him, putting away the spices that littered the counter tops.

“Out. To a bar. My idiot coworkers want us to come.”

“I haven’t been out in ages...are you sure you want to go? I never took you for the bar patron type,” you grin and elbow his side and he casts a sideways glance your way.

“William will not stop harassing me, so we should go so I can have five minutes of peace at work for once.” You snicker and nod, scraping the remnants of the fish into the trash before letting the pan in the filled sink to soak.

“I finally get to meet this William you talk so much about! That will be nice.” You swear you think you hear him let out a low growl and turn to look at him quickly before shaking off the idea. “I’ll wear something nice. I haven’t dressed up in a while.” He nods, grunting as he shuts the dishwasher with a little more force than necessary before starting it. “And we can grab a bite to eat on the way there. Maybe some pizza. Pizza is good before a night of drinking.” You quickly squeeze his hand as you walk by him, smiling. “I’m going to shower and get ready, and we can head out.” You feel his eyes follow you down the hallway and you sway your hips a little more than normal, putting on a bit of a show for him before disappearing into the bathroom.

“Are you done yet?” Pero calls from the living room a couple of hours later, his voice bordering on exasperated. “I’m turning gray.”

“Oh hush you! You can’t rush perfection!” You yell from in front of your vanity, lacquering your lips with a shimmering gloss before pinning two silver hoops into your ears. You step back from the mirror appraising yourself. A navy blue strapless dress was your choice for the night, with a wide silver accent belt and your silver, strappy heels. You wore a smokey eye that took you three tries before you were finally satisfied with it, settling on your silver hoops and thin silver choker for jewelry, your hair up in a simple, neat style. Your heels click down the wood of the hallway, your purse over your shoulder as you head to the living room. “I’m all set. Let’s go eat, I’m starved.” Pero grunts, standing from the couch before looking at you, his mouth falling open for the briefest of moments before snapping it closed again. You grin and do a slow turn. “Well, what do you think?”

“Guapísima…” He says softly, coming over to stand in front of you, his eyes raking over your body. “Gorgeous.” You beam up at him, preening over the complements.

“You’re looking pretty amazing yourself, gruñón. Wine red suits you.” Pero was wearing a deep red button down that he had rolled up to the elbows and some black jeans. You didn’t even realize he owned any button downs. His hair was still a mess, but it looked like he had at least tried to tame it some. You bite you lip to try and keep the lewd thoughts at bay about how amazing he would look with that button down open, hovering over you as he- Nope! None of that! No time for that! Shaking your head in an attempt to clear it, you grab your keys and head out the door. Pero follows silently, his eyes never leaving your figure as you walk in front of him.

After grabbing your pizza, the two of you make your way to the club that apparently William had suggested. It wasn’t one you had ever heard of before, but it was on the nicer side of town, so you weren’t too worried. The two of you made it in without a problem, skipping the line, and you were pretty sure it was due to Pero’s size and that scowl he still had plastered on his face. It’s amazing his face didn’t hurt from wearing the expression so much. Loud, bass heavy music filled the club, the low, flashing lights disorienting you for a minute. Pero rests his hand on the small of your back and it sends a shock up your spine as he leads you to a table near the back.

“There he is! The resident grump!” A happy looking man with dark blonde hair stands up, the lights shining in his eyes. “Glad you finally made it!”

“William. Of course we came. Now maybe you will leave me alone at work, eh cabrón?” William chuckles at Pero’s suggestion and shakes his head.

“Not a chance, amigo. After this, we’re gonna be best friends.” You giggle at the grumble Pero lets out as he guides you into the seat, sliding in after you. “Hello there, pretty lady. The name’s William. I’ve been partnered with your grumpy friend here since he joined our little security detail.” You smile and extend your hand to him, shaking it firmly as you give him your name.

“It’s nice to finally meet you. Pero’s told me a little bit about you, but it’s good to finally have a name to put to a face.” You chuckle as Pero crosses his arms, scowling at William. Your left hand comes to rest on Pero’s thigh, squeezing gently in an attempt to calm him down. It was going to be a long night if the man didn’t try to relax a little.

An hour or so and a few drinks into the night, some more of William’s friends show up, including his girlfriend Cynthia. You take an immediate liking to her, and after she finishes trying to suck off William’s face, she grabs your hand and pulls you to the dance floor. You laugh, swapping stories about the men in your lives, giggling like schoolgirls. It had been a while since you’d had a girlfriend to actually talk to and you absolutely craved the attention. Pero never left the table to come dance with you, electing to stay and talk with his coworkers. Every now and then, you would feel his eyes on you and you would punctuate the sway in your hips, knowing he was watching. A shyer you would have perhaps thought twice about doing this, but after several stiff drinks, you don’t have a care in the world.

Cynthia eventually wanders off to the bathroom, but you stay on the dance floor, enjoying the bass pumping through the building. You feel someone behind you and turn with a smile, expecting your Spaniard. When you are met with the eyes of one of Pero’s coworkers, your eyes widen in surprise as he joins you in dancing to the music.

“I don’t think I ever got your name! I’m Justin!” he calls over the music. You nod and give him yours in return, smiling as you dance with him. You aren’t sure how long you danced for, or how many jokes he tells, all you remember is that he is one of the funniest guys you had ever met. You like him, and were happy that Pero was working with someone so nice. Suddenly, hands are on your hips and you jump, looking up over your shoulder to see Pero there, glaring daggers at his coworker. You rest your hands over his and tilt your head in confusion. He looks down at you before crushing your lips against his own in a harsh kiss, pulling your ass back against him. When he breaks the kiss, his eyes dart over to look at Justin again who is slowly backing away to head back to the table. Your brow furrows and you turn in Pero’s arms, wrapping your arms around his neck. His hands still hold your hips, pulling you flush up against him.

“What the hell was that about?” You ask, confused as you attempt to keep the tremor out of your voice at the feeling of him through his jeans.

“I didn’t like how he was looking at you,” he growls, watching your face in the flashing lights. “Like he wanted to take you right here in the middle of the dance floor.” You shudder at his words, the hard edge to them something you had never heard from him before. It sounded possessive, and it went straight to your center.

“He was just being friendly, Pero.” He scowls, leaning down to kiss you again, biting at your bottom lip roughly. You gasp and open your mouth, letting him lick into it as your tongues dance around one another, drawing a moan from you. Pero’s fingers dig deeper into your hips and you were sure you were going to have bruises.

“No. He wasn’t. I am the only one who gets to look at you like that. Me. No one else.” His possessive, demanding tone raises the hairs all over your body and you shiver, pressing yourself up against him.

“Pero...are you...jealous?” You voice is coy, a grin spreading over your face. He grunts and pulls his hips back ever so slightly before pulling you harshly back against him, earning a pleasured gasp from you. He leans down to growl in the shell of your ear.

“We are going home. Right now.” Anticipation and adrenaline flood your veins and you nod rapidly. He takes your hand, pulling you to the door with just enough time for you to wave at Cynthia at the table, making a gesture to text you. The cool night air does little to calm the heat that fills your whole body. Pero’s grip on your hand is firm, his pace brisk as the two of you make your way home. He remains silent until the front door of the apartment shuts and locks.

The next thing you know, he has your front pressed up against the entry way wall, his hand palming your ass through your dress as he slides a knee up between your legs, spreading them. His lips attach to your neck as he bites a bit more forcefully than you were use to, and you would be lying if you said the little bit of pain didn’t turn you on. You let out a lewd moan, pressing back against him.

“P-Pero, what has gotten in to you?” you whimper.

“Mine,” he hisses against your skin. “You’re mine, no one else gets to look at you like I look at you. No one else gets to know about this.” He smacks your ass and you cry out in pleasure, begging for more. He leans back enough to flip you around so your back is against the wall before his knee returns to between your legs, pressing up against your soaking panties, his lips pressed to yours. You grind your hips down against his thigh, whimpering into his mouth as your hands come up to grab fist-fulls of his hair. His hands greedily grope your breasts before moving down to your hips, guiding your ruts against his thigh. This time, it’s you who breaks the kiss, muttering against his lips.

“F-Fuck, Pero, I need you. Right here, right now. Please.” You accentuate your plea with a tug on his hair and he groans, reaching a hand down to undo his jeans. He pushes them down just far enough to free his cock from the restrictive trousers and you bat his hand out of the way, gripping his cock and giving it a few sharp strokes. He mutters curses in Spanish, digging into this pocket to yank out a condom. You reach for it as you did the other day but he yanks it away from you, tearing it open with his teeth before rolling it along his length. Strong hands grip under your thighs, hiking you up against the wall. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, pressing back against the wall as he holds you there, yanking your panties aside before lining himself up with you. His lust blown eyes glance up at you as he sinks you down on his cock, fully seating himself inside of you. He smirks as the grip on his hair tightens, your face contorting in pleasure, and his hips move back before sharply thrusting into you.

From the start, he sets up a brutal pace, one far more frustrated than the other times he has fucked you. Jealousy brought out something entirely different in Pero, and you love it. You feel wanted, desired, needed; and the roughness it inspired in him was driving you insane.

“Fuck, hermosa, you feel so good, so tight for me. Perfección.” He ruts into you at a maddening pace, his moans coming out through clenched teeth. You reach down with one hand to rub your clit in time with his thrusts, screaming out his name as he fucks you into the wall, the lewd slapping sound of his hips hitting your only encouraging you. “You. Are. Mine. Eres mío. Solamente mío.”

“Yes, yes, fuck, YES! I’m yours, Pero, I’m fucking yours. I’m so close oh my God!” You lean your head forward to kiss and bite at his neck, leaving a matching mark on his as on yours, his scruff rubbing against your jaw deliciously. Your orgasm blindsides you and you bite down harder on Pero’s neck as you clench around him, earning a fantastic growl from him, stiffening in his grasp as he thrust into you twice more before joining you in your euphoria. You pant against his neck, twitching as you come down, your limbs starting to feel like jello. Pero’s shoulders heave as he tries to catch his breath.

Slowly, you lift your head to look at him, moaning softly as you feel him twitch inside of you. His eyes have lightened, the lust lifting with his orgasm and you smile, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his swollen lips. He hums against your lips, returning the kiss for a moment before breaking it to slip out of you, carefully easing you back to the ground. Your hand moves to stroke his cheek gently, and the frown eases just a bit under your touch.

“I mean it, hermosa,” he mumbles, reaching up to grab your hand, holding it against his face. “Be mine. Only mine…” His eyes are nearly begging and your heart melts, every doubt and worry of the past week fading away as if they were never there.  

“Pero...of course I will be. You have me completely.” Tension releases from his shoulders at your acceptance and he leans in, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips, then your forehead.

“Cara mía…” his own hand comes to brush along your cheek, smiling at the heat under his fingertips before taking your hand, leading you to the bathroom to get cleaned up. This had been a night you would not soon forget.

Translations:  hermosa: Beautiful Que mala.: How bad/naughty.  como una diosa: like a goddess maravillosa: marvelous  gruñón : grumpy Guapísima : gorgeous/sexy cabrón : Bro, asshole (slang) Perfección: Perfection Eres mío. Solamente mío: You are mine. Only mine.  Cara mía: My darling (In this house we stan Gomez Adams) ~~~~ Tags:  @lilkermit14​, @the-feckless-wonder​, @whiskeyslasso​  Let me know if you would like to be added! 

Requests are open! Tag list is open!

[closer-stars]

Heart of Depth (3)

Member: Yeosang Genre: Action, Slice of Life, Fantasy, Fluff, a little tension. Genshin Inspired AU Word Count: 9k Requested: Sort of yeah Content: Yeosang x MC development. More world building. Food stuff. A little bit of crime stuff, some history, some art info dump, some typical genshin shenanigans. Mild Violence (aka haha WooSanSang being badasses). Allusions to death. Note: Had to cut down part 3, it’s actually a lot longer originally lol. Inazuma’s been insane content. HoD was supposed to be 5 parts but considering how lengthy the parts have become it might be longer oops. Links to be updated after 24 hours. Life update: kinda got a slightly consistent work now so been focused on that. I hope this tides everyone over until I make a better return. Network: @ateezlovenet Tag list: @barsformars @miniyeo @jeongyunhoed @yeekies @yeotlny @frankenstein852 @shinyddeonghwa @prodbyteez @yeochikin @yeocult @harubirus

Part 2

“Yeosang, you might have to skip on meeting with them today.” 

He looks up from his screen, peering at San several feet away from him. “Why?” 

The good thing about San is that he’s unfazed when Yeosang uses that tone on him. He doesn’t cower when it comes to it, besides, there’s a special voice he uses when he’s genuinely angry. “Looks like there’s something special going on in the museum’s garden at night.” San explains. He already learned the hard way to not speak in riddles to him, but there were things that were better off spoken with mind games. “Check your email, I sent you the notice.” He says, shifting his attention to other matters on his plate. 

There’s something in San’s voice that makes Yeosang want to groan. Usually, this means San’s got some sort of trick up his sleeve when some sort of misdemeanor has been happening-- though the last time San had to speak in riddles over something serious was a few thousand years back. To cut the agony short, Yeosang shifts his attention to his emails, already the email San has forwarded sits at the top. 

It’s been a recurring incident for the past few weeks now. It’s only now that the museum have found the source of the smell. There’s been a peculiar flower that only blooms at night, emitting a scent similar to lavender, despite not looking like the mentioned plant. Though no one knows what flower is, the only response the staff has at the moment was to leave it be and wait for further instructions from the board. The photos attached to the notice made it easy for San to recognize it, all the man was waiting for was for Yeosang to see the photos too. 

His demeanor changes almost immediately once it registers in his head. That’s his lover’s flower, the Neve Jewel. It’s blooming again. Truthfully, Yeosang didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He didn’t really think they would’ve kept their promise after all this time. He stares at the images. He knows that glow, the shape, the colors all too well. All that’s left is the scent, it’s been so long since he smelled those flowers, now all but a lingering feeling in his dreams. Deep blue eyes lay unmoving on his computer screen as he tries to process waves of emotions in him. San waits in his seat quietly, even if his fingers tap away into processing permits and other papers, he worries for how Yeosang would take this. “I’ll let them know that I’ll be late today.” Yeosang states,already writing a message for you. 

Did San think he’d do anything different? Not quite. Even with the change of schedules, he knows how much Yeosang looks forward to seeing you everyday. He also knows how the man will do anything for those he loves. He can’t comprehend how he’s been able to have such self-control since their passing. He would always visit the tombstone of his lover up until the earth had decided to give birth to new life. 

[ Yeosang to You ] My dear, I’m afraid I won't be able to see you until after your closing hours. 

“San, can you get me the iced cafe latte along with a slice of their strawberry cheesecake?”  He would have to wait until night falls for him to catch sight of the flowers. He has feelings for you, that much he is sure. Whether or not you are who he thinks he is, how you’ve been towards him.

“Now?” San asks, rising from his seat and about to grab his jacket. 

“That would be nice, yes.” He says as he busies himself with an email, for the changes in the schedule for today. With that settled, San’s already off to your shop. 

---------

Just as San enters your shop, he’s amazed at the booming activity. All the tables were filled with various groups of people. He wondered what was so special about today. As he approached the counter, you had just finished packing up an order for takeout. While you seem to manage just fine on your own: taking orders and making drinks, it’s definitely not an easy task. 

“Today’s bustling I see.” San says as you immediately rush over after washing your hands. 

“San!” You exclaim, a little relieved for some sense of familiarity after the hectic peak hours. He sees your shoulders drop a little and he flashes a wide smile, glad to be of some relief to you. “Yeah, I asked some of the regulars what’s going on today and it seems like they have finals week coming up so everyone’s just been so busy with their studies.” You shrug as you explain. You were done with university so that aspect of those years are long behind you now. “Anyways, the usual?” 

“Not quite? Two iced cafe lattes, one slice of chocolate mousse and one slice of the strawberry cheesecake.” You nod and after the transaction’s made, you let him wait by the far end of the counter as you get to doing the coffee. 

He leans against the counter as he waits for his purchase. As time passes by, he looks around the place, watching regular humans go about their daily stresses. From the corner of his eye, he spots a familiar insignia on someone’s laptop. The owner’s hunched over, visibly lacking sleep as they seem to try beating their deadlines. He gazes at them for some time until he turns away, not wanting to think too much about it especially in front of all these people. 

“Here’s your order. I added some cookies as well, those are on the house.” You explain upon seeing his confused expression. He flashes a bashful smile in thanks. 

“Yeosang might come by later tonight.” He states. The sight of your flustered expression makes him smirk. “Has he already asked you to be his?” His light laugh rings in your ears and he stops teasing you. 

“Wooyoung might be here instead later. I have to run a few errands today.” You relay to him to which San acknowledges to send to Yeosang. Just feels like the old days. 

He should also probably relay to Yeosang the symbol he saw earlier. 

--------

“Yeosang, we need to--” San’s words are cut short when he’s greeted by the sponsors in their office. He sets aside the food bought from your shop and greets the visitors properly, throwing out any sense of concern in his body. 

“Ah yes, Mr. Choi just came back from an errand. Mr. Choi, I would like you to meet the representatives of the Museum of Ancient Art. I’m sure you’ve talked with them through the emails?” Yeosang says, voice going a little deeper as it usually does in front of formal visitors. If they weren’t in front of him, he would’ve laughed at how Yeosang still tries his best to assert himself. An eons old god, still trying to assert himself, if Yeosang only knew how much respect and intimidation he exudes. 

San approaches the two that he has constantly talked with through their online exchanges, relieved to have faces to their names. That’s right, he remembers now. A meeting with the Museum of Ancient Art to see which collections they can exchange with and how to promote each other in their respective areas. He just hopes this meeting ends as soon as possible because he finally recognizes the insignia from earlier. 

--------

The meeting lasts for two hours. Thankfully, it was a meeting that wasn’t the type that could’ve just been over email. The four of them rise from their seats, delighted to have finished a fruitful meeting on time. After San walks them out of the building, he hurries back in, and already Yeosang’s eating his slice of cake with his coffee. 

“We have no other meeting after that right?” San says as he brings his share to his table, leaning against his seat after such a tiring discussion-- not even a museum tour for students had worn him out that much. 

“None, so we will be here until after closing to check on the discussed flower.” Yeosang after sipping his coffee. “There was something you wanted to tell me, yes?” 

This gets San back into business mode, stern lines on his face as he faces Yeosang who busies himself with his cake. “Yeah, I saw someone in their shop, with the same insignia as the one that did a break in a few weeks back.” 

Yeosang’s eyes are on his coffee and half eaten cake as he listens to San’s encounter. This doesn’t feel right. Once he catches a glimpse of the flower, he’ll rush over to your shop. “I’ll drop by their shop afterwards.” He simply says. 

San takes the chance to look at his companion carefully. Behind the calm eyes already a storm rages, there’s tension in his neck and arms. If he’s right, then it’s only a matter of time. 

“We’ll discuss this at my place after tonight’s activities.” He simply ends the conversation there, taking another bite of his cake. 

“We’re still visiting their shop after?” It was a bit of a surprise for San to hear Yeosang wanting to go out of his way. Then again, why was San even surprised by anything anymore. This is Yeosang, he’s talking to. Also, with what San saw, archons know just how much turmoil there is inside Yeosang.

“If it’s possible, yes.” Yeosang closes his eyes as he drinks his latte. That’s enough for San to know to leave Yeosang to the privacy of his thoughts. Now all that’s left to do is wait until closing time. 

As San looks away from him, he shifts his view to his computer, then to his phone. It’s a little odd that you haven’t replied to his messages. Despite his calm facade, he’s stressed. If his assumptions are right, you’re being targeted, for reasons that are yet unknown to him. 

[ Yeosang to Wooyoung ] Are you working in the shop right now? 

[ Wooyoung to Yeosang ] on my way to the shop! Need me to prepare an order for you guys?

He stops for a moment, wondering the proper wording to make sure Wooyoung doesn’t panic as much as he is right now. 

[ Yeosang to Wooyoung ] Maybe later should San and I make it after today’s itinerary. I was simply wondering since they haven’t replied to me today. 

He stares at his phone screen for another moment. 

[ Yeosang to Wooyoung ] We’ll let you know. 

He has thirty more minutes before the museum is deserted. For now, he’ll make the most out of his cake. He’s not quite sure anymore if peace will last long from now on. 

--------

San takes the lead tonight. He asks one of the security guards to direct him and Yeosang to where in the garden was this strange flower located. Yeosang follows the male a few steps behind. His hands hidden in the pockets of his coat, he doesn’t want anyone to see just how tense he was. 

“It was spotted in this area, sir. The smell leads you to the plant.” The security guard informs them as he gestures to the general area.

San nods, taking note of his advice, already he catches a waft of the scent. He doesn’t need to look at Yeosang to know how on edge he was. “We can manage on our own from here. Thanks.” San promises, as he dismisses the guard, to return to his duty. As the security guard leaves the two alone, he glances at Yeosang. “Do you want to be alone?” The archon shakes his head. He sniffs the air for a moment. The scent takes him back to the memories of eons past. Simpler times, he assumes. 

From there, the two of them follow the scent. It’s a sharp contrast from all the turpentine and antique materials they’ve been exposed to since the museum was built. In today’s standards, the Neve Jewel would remind the regular people of an untouched field in the mountains. Though it is similar to lavender, it is still something that would even make those who love the said herb doubt that it is lavender that they’re smelling. 

From there, they see a faint glow against the dim lighting in the garden. A soft glow of cool blues bounce onto the ground from where the flower resides. San sits by the bench across the flower as Yeosang approaches the plant. 

It’s just like how he remembers it, just like the painting he showed you. It’s still the same after all these years. Yeosang hears nothing but the rush of blood in his ears. He’s too scared to touch the flower, fearing that it would be reduced to nothing-- that this would just be a sick dream his mind conjured. 

“It’s real, Yeosang.” San says softly, as he watches his friend gaze at the flower in disbelief. 

Yeosang snaps out of his thoughts and stands up. “I think I got all the proof I need.” He says softly. He stretches his legs, now reaching his full height. “Let’s go visit the shop.” 

--------

Yeosang parks his car a few steps away from your shop. The warm glow from the lights lets him hope that you’re still inside. He and San enter the shop, only to be greeted by Wooyoung mopping up the floor. “Oh, thought the two of you wouldn’t come. Want the usual?” He asks, the surprised look on their faces doesn’t slip by him. “Looking for Popsicle?'' Wooyoung asks, leaning his hand against the top of the mop.

“Popsicle..” San repeats, thoroughly confused but Yeosang catches his reference fairly quickly. 

“Didn’t think you’d give them that nickname.” He muses, already handing his card to Wooyoung who is already making his way to the counter. 

“Man, they call me Sparky, it’s even.” Wooyoung counters. He didn’t really think he’d reveal himself like that but alas, it’s been done. 

“Creative nicknames.” San comments, amusement in his tone. 

“Happens to the best of us.” With that, Wooyoung busies himself whipping up their orders. “Popsicle left early for personal errands and to try out some personal recipes, to see if they can add it to the seasonal menu.” He explains above the whirring of the coffee machine. “Also, apparently it was a busy day so they weren’t able to reply to any of our messages.”

Yeosang, unaware of some of the changes, inevitably trips against a potted plant. From the sudden cold feeling against his leg, Wooyoung probably had watered this just a few minutes ago. His resigned sigh catches San’s attention and notices his trousers have been, quite literally, soiled. “Uhhh, Wooyoung?” San calls out, a little concerned for the cleanliness of his peer’s outfit and the shop’s. 

“What-- Oh.” Wooyoung sees the mess and Yeosang says nothing but an apologetic bow. “I can clean it up once it dries up. Cleaning up wet soil just makes a bigger mess.” He points out. Unfortunately for him, this means staying in the shop longer when he can be in his bed, underneath his comfy blankets. 

“I can be of assistance.” The archon speaks up. San looks at his friend in alarm, hoping that he won’t give away what he really is but he pays him no heed. Wooyoung eyes him in confusion. 

With a flick of his wrist, his watch extends into a double ended scythes, his reflexes this time faster than earlier. He dips the edge of the blade against the spilled mud then against his pants, making sure to not nick at the fabric. The water from the damp dirt envelops the blade quickly, turning from an opaque brown color to clear and clean water. 

He lifts one end of the scythe from his pants and tips into the pot, the water dripping in as carefully as possible. Once successful, he taps the end of the scythe’s pole against the ground and immediately returns to a watch. 

Wooyoung watches the entire scene, speechless and confused by the entire spectacle-- though more of the fact Yeosang knows how to wield a scythe. “Does San know how to use a weapon too?” This wasn’t what he was supposed to ask but it will do for now.

“Just a sword staff.” San returns in equal nonchalance as Yeosang, in hopes that it wouldn’t make Wooyoung lose his mind. Instead though, Wooyoung lets out a low whistle, impressed at the two’s experience of handling rare weapons-- well he assumed they were rare. For he went with a great sword while you were something along the lines of a mage. To be honest, you didn’t really know how to describe your choice either. 

“Okay but, Yeosang, your pants are dirty and you used the blade against the fabric. Aren’t they expensive?” Wooyoung’s not entirely sure at this point of how to remedy the situation, one foot already at the direction of the broom to clean up the now dried soil. He’s not entirely shocked that Yeosang knows how to deal with water, his hydro vision hangs by his waist. He was more shocked with the scythe and the possibly damaged clothes. How he did that so willingly, maybe it’s the perk of being rich. 

Yeosang waves his hand dismissively about his concern. “Nothing to worry about. I know someone who can clean this without sacrificing the quality. To ease your wary heart, I barely touched the blade against the pant leg. It’s still perfectly fine.” 

Of course, he’d know someone. The rich always do. 

“What brand are you even wearing?” 

“Cucinelli.” 

With that mentioned, Wooyoung stands up and leaves the two for a moment. The abrupt exit leaves the two surprised and concerned. He returns with a broom in hand, cleaning up the soil and putting it back into the pot. The brand name alone tells him everything he needs to know about how much the pants were. “Is it really that expensive?” Yeosang asks, a little surprised by Wooyoung’s sudden lack of response. 

He doesn’t answer for a moment. “It’s enough to cover rent for a few months yeah.” 

This makes the archon ponder for a moment. Truly there were things that he forgets from time to time about the differences in the lives of humans. 

---------

For the next hour the two of them fill in Wooyoung on what has happened in their day, when all of a sudden Yeosang perks up in alarm. 

Yeosang looks around, can never be too careful after all. “Did you see anyone with a symbol that depicts three intertwined knots?” Wooyoung just gives him a perplexed look. WIth the amount of people Wooyoung sees on the daily, it was rare that any of them would stand out to him. It was easier to spot people who stand out in a studio than in a coffee shop. 

“Huh? Maybe our Popsicle did but I don’t remember seeing anything like that, why?” 

This time, he wasn’t sure if he should be concerned or not. The things the two have talked about, especially in the art scene, doesn't faze him anymore. For all he knows, the insignia they’re asking about is an anonymous artist they want to work with.

San shakes his head. “Just a hunch about something. One of these days, we can tell you but for now, we need to go home. It’s late.” San reminds them as he glances at the time. 

By now, Wooyoung was already finished cleaning everything up. The paper and plastic packaging for their orders were in their hands and it’s on them to throw it. His reasoning? He already worked hard to keep this place clean and he’s stayed beyond work hours to wait for them just like you’d always do. 

Now that the lights were closed and the doors were locked with ample protection by Wooyoung, San looks around and sees an odd being a few feet away. “Yeosang.” He murmurs softly, eyes flitting towards the direction he needs to face. The amulet in his pocket feels a little heavier.

Across the street stood the members from the Abyss Order, their eyes glinting in the dark with a plan that would put Wooyoung in danger should they not act quickly. “Wooyoung, I need you to get in the car now. I’ll drive you home.” Yeosang orders, tryinggnn his best not to sound on edge to not scare the guy. Usually, he and San can take care of these members without anyone around them becoming collateral damage. He’s not sure either if Wooyoung has his sword with him. 

 “What? Nah, it’s okay. I can just walk or get a taxi.” Wooyoung reassures, standing up twirling the keys in his fingers. 

“Wooyoung, it’s an ord--” Before Yeosang could complete his sentence, San already has his sword staff up, creating a sturdy shield to block out the bullets that were fired at them. The boom and the lack of sound from impact makes Wooyoung look over immediately. San’s weapon stands at a roughly twelve feet tall pole alone, add the sword and it could have been eighteen feet in length. The human’s not quite sure as to how that happened but questions might be better put for later. 

“Ah shit.” Your friend mutters, unclasping his bracelet and already it shifts into a greatsword, taking up a length of six feet easily. “I don’t know what they are but they are not damaging this shop.” What’s scarier: these unknown threats or you screaming? 

He manages to block a few of the projectiles coming their way,much to the shock of the two immortals. “Got any plan? Preferably something that makes sure this shop is unscathed?” Wooyoung growls, returning the projectiles, with much more strength towards the perpetrators. This time, the heated projectiles combined with his element, exploding upon impact. His vision glows a sharp purple as he continues to use his element. 

Yeosang looks around, trying to figure out a plan. “Watch my back” He simply says. Immediately, San shifts to take his usual position behind the archon. Wooyoung on the other hand, still throws damage against the strange figures. “Wooyoung, keep exposing them to electricity.” 

The human grunts in acknowledgement, slightly frustrated that he can’t move around freely as he has to make sure the shop takes no damage. San jumps into action,using the bladed end of his staff to take out what seems to be a burly figure wielding an electro hammer who was lunging straight towards Yeosang. It doesn’t take much to know that the figure’s near gone with how hard it staggers back from the impact. 

Yeosang spins his scythe, and the blades start to get enveloped by water. As he swings his scythe, blades of water hone in on the figures, knocking them back upon impact and damaging their own weapons. This gives enough time for San to push forward and drive his staff down onto them: pinning them against a sudden burst of wind currents. The pressure making it hard for them to wriggle out of, yet they twitch insistently from the exposure to electricity and water. “Leave if you want to see another day.” Yeosang warns in a strange voice. Wooyoung’s not sure if his goosebumps are from the static on his sword or from the change in Yeosang’s attitude. 

The men-- from what Wooyoung can only presume, submit to his order, speaking of promises to not return to the area and other words that he can only assume were pleas of mercy. 

“Whoever sent you here, tell them of my regards.” Yeosang growls. He doesn’t need to lean forward to look them in the eye. From where he stands, waves of his power come off him slowly. Something in Wooyoung runs cold when he sees his eyes and the tips of his hair glow an intense blue-- a blue that reminds him of the deepest trenches in the ocean, as he restrains their movements even further with water. 

When the promises are made, San makes sure to look each perpetrator in the eye, memorizing their faces and features for the future. They can never tell when the tide changes. The male then loosens his restraints on the men, despite the blood and bruises they have he lets them go. Though personally, he would’ve sliced them into ribbons for coming into this part of the neighborhood. 

Once the three have scrambled away from them, Yeosang heaves a sigh. It’s been a little too long since he had tapped into his archaic abilities. He carefully switches his scythe back into a watch, clasping it around his wrist. Once it’s snug around his wrist, he checks the time. Past midnight. What a tiring day. San heaves a tired groan, tapping the end of his staff against the ground and it becomes a weaved ring on his pointer again. The archon walks to his car, unfortunately with a few dents and scratches. It will be a matter to be taken cared of for another day, for now: safety.

“Get in the car.” He has already put up a protective layer of water against your shop, making sure that any damage against your shop would be minimized. The three figures have already retreated but to leave Wooyoung alone would be a death wish. Wooyoung scratches his thumb against the base of his sword and it turns immediately into his bracelet. He makes sure everything else is clear then hops into the car, swinging the door shut as Yeosang steps on the gas. 

“Who were they?” Wooyoung exclaims as he falls back into his seat with an exhausted whine. His clothes were definitely a mess and the adrenaline’s starting to wear off “Shit, Popsicle.” He worries for your safety, especially after tonight’s run-in. He’s not sure if you’ll be able to fend for yourself on your own. 

“San will take care of them. It’s too dangerous for us to go get them right now.” He promises yet the edge in his voice doesn’t leave. He knows who they were but why they were there is what’s making him grip the steering wheel harder than he should. “Yeosang.” San’s voice immediately reminds him to breathe. “To answer your question, the ones we fought earlier are from the Abyss Order. They haven’t been making their presence known in years.” 

“So why now?” 

“We don’t know.” San replies in place for Yeosang. “That’s why we asked if you saw a three intertwined knot insignia earlier because I saw something when I went in during their shift.” The rest of the drive is quiet. The car slows down to an acceptable speed to avoid any road blocks along the way. 

“You’re staying the night in my place for now.” Yeosang explains much to Wooyoung’s shock. “It’s not safe for you to go back yet. Not until tomorrow morning at least. San will pick them up. He knows his ways around the roads here.” He continues, as he slowly parks his car in the complex’s parking lot. 

Wooyoung explains to San where the two of you live and San already has a mental image of it. “Any landmark?”

“A convenience store right next to a grandmother’s ramen shop.” 

“Okay, I’ll see you guys later.” San then jumps out of the car and onto the scaffoldings of the buildings.

Wait, this is where Yeosang stays? Wooyoung looks around the area: the cars look timeless, expensive as well. On the ground seems to be the numbers of the respective owner’s place. He shuts off the engine and unlocks the doors. “Tell them to bring what they need for the next few hours. I have a lot to explain.” 

---------

That’s how Wooyoung ended up staying in Yeosang’s place for the night. Yeosang cooks up a simple pasta for them, knowing that even San will sleep over for the night. Wooyoung offered to help but Yeosang had been stubborn enough to make him sit down and drink his tea after updating you with what had happened. 

The needed conversation had to happen with you around so to kill time, both men decided to know the other a little more beyond the coffee shop and art museum. 

“... I basically got my vision after realizing what I wanted to do with my life.” Wooyoung explains. It happened after having a conversation with you in high school. “We were fighting about whether or not I should try for the competition despite my injuries..” Go figure. He went all in for it, of course with your help to keep him grounded but it would seldom work as he tunnel visioned into his goal. The difference between your two favoured medium is in the longevity of the works. He accepted that dancing is one of the shortest living works. Three minutes on stage is different from three minutes through a screen. Yet, there he was wanting to make his name known for years to come despite the short lifespan of dance. “It was when I told little Ice Cube about it that my vision formed in my pocket.” 

“I did get my name out there, once we started studying in university.” He continues. “I rose up the dance crew quickly. Things are always different in real life as compared to recorded performances, yet there’s always something beyond as they would say.” He shrugs, trying his best to not sound like he’s bragging. “Now here I am, teaching some idols choreography while teaching passionate dancers in a studio with a part time in your shop.”

This makes Yeosang mull for a bit. He’s met the Electro Archon, with Wooyoung’s story it did fall in line with the Archon’s belief and virtue: to go beyond what Time can limit. It took a few thousand years to remind the mentioned Archon of their humanity though. Fortunately, they have thus the influx of electro users in the succeeding years. He wonders then, when did you get yours? The archon does not want to pry yet curiosity pesters his mind. “I’m assuming that they have gotten their vision prior to yours then?” 

The mortal looks at him with wide eyes. “They never told you how they got the cryo vision huh?” Wooyoung notes as he takes his time to study Yeosang’s place.. Yeosang busies himself by making himself a cup of tea, while Wooyoung an americano. He knows his skills in creating coffee would be sub-par compared to yours but for now, it will do for him. 

“I’m afraid not, though I am aware of the similarities of the lives led by cryo users.” Yeosang returns as he hands the mug to the other male. Each Archon hands a human or an adepti with a vision, usually done when the subject of interest has reached a point in their life that exhibits values worthy of their attention. For the Pyro archon, it would be due to the passion one carries despite all odds. For Yeosang, the hydro vision is gifted when the human exhibits the desire to better themselves. The Cryo archon was an oddball even after the changes, for those who receive the cryo vision are those who have gone through a certain loss that changes them in the long run. As if to help them survive what the world has done to them.

What did you lose? 

Wooyoung eyes the coffee in his hands with worry. Your story is not his story to share, but he can share parts of it from his eyes. “They started living with my family at a young age.” He starts. “It took them awhile to warm up to the family but no one forced the lil Popsicle to be happy.” The dazed wary look you would give his parents pained him even until now. “Despite that, they’ve been deadly protective of our parents and brothers. You were always willing to fight any one that tried to bully me or any of our other classmates.” He says with a soft laugh. Yeosang listens intently, the mere image of you, a small child, willing to protect those who were suffering, it would’ve been a sight to see. Wooyoung takes a careful sip, making sure to not burn his tongue. “Their family was known for their ventures in history, usually through art and any written records.” Wooyoung adds, looking up at the male across from him. There’s something in him that tells him that Yeosang isn’t any regular vision holder. “Can I ask something?” 

The question surprises the archon slightly but he gestures for Wooyoung to continue. He supposes that not everything can be told from another pair of eyes, best to be told by someone who has seen it all. 

“You’re not a regular human are you?” Wooyoung’s question makes him chuckle. 

“What made you ask?” Yeosang starts, eyeing the human with curiosity. 

“For starters, no one’s hair glows at the tips.” Wooyoung points out, tipping his head towards the fringe that frames his face. “Nor should the eyes” he adds, referring to the run in earlier. He doesn’t add the words Yeosang spoke of, thinking it could be twisted easily into his favor. “Also, this amount of money cannot be amassed in such a short year unless you’re from a rich family.” In the back of his mind, he was already making a plan of how to escape and warn you should this become a worst case scenario. He was about to list more before Yeosang cracks up. 

“Well, yes. You are correct. I am not.. A human entirely.” Though he does plan to live like one after this. 

“But you’re not.. An adepti either then? You don’t look like Ganyu.” Wooyoung points out. At least that removes the possibility of him being associated with the bad guys. What memories that name brings him. It’s been a long time since he’s heard from Ganyu. The last he’s seen her, she could pass off as a woman in her early fourties if it weren’t for the ruby horns that curled upwards from her head. Maybe he should pay her a visit in the near future. 

“An adepti can take on a form like Ganyu yes, but there are also adepti that can take on the forms of animals or look like regular humans. My dear friend San, is an adepti as well.” Yeosang counters calmly as he sips his tea. “Now, I trust their judgement, you are a trustworthy human, especially to have the electro vision. Dear Wooyoung,” he starts. The ways of proving that he was the archon without annihilating an entire area is usually limited for a human’s mind can be picky. He lets his eyes turn into wide saucers, too wide to be considered human, and for his skin acquires scales like that of a dragon. Wooyoung’s reaction tells him enough and he reverts himself back to that of a human. 

“You’re the hydro archon.” Wooyoung sputters out. 

“That is correct.” Yeosang nods calmly.

“Can I swear?” 

“Carry on.” 

“Holy shit.”

--------

The way San entered your apartment as well was enough to scare you for the next three days or so. He doesn’t tell you much, even in the safety of your own home. Only a “Let’s go. We’ll explain somewhere safer.” By then, you already had your things ready and kept everything in place. Your vision is securely strapped around your waist while your Regalia is on your wrist. 

You arrive in one piece thanks to San. He had you running through small roads and hidden spots around the city, to avoid prying eyes and wandering ears from seeing the two of you. 

At first glance, you assume that this was another regular apartment complex that maybe you staying at home was the better option. But when you enter the lobby, the smell alone tells you this more than a regular building. There’s a receptionist with three guards around the place, the pristine interiors softened by the warm lighting. You feel out of place in your regular sweats and hoodie, San on the other hand might be in a worse position. A wrinkled jacket, dress shirt that’s been dirty with his tie loosened, his shoes lost their luster and his hair was in slight disarray. A rare sight indeed. 

“Let’s go. They won’t mind you anyways as long as you’re with me.” San reassures you, sensing your discomfort when the staff pass a glance at you. He walks with you to the elevator and once the two of you are in the small box, he heaves a sigh of relief and exhaustion, leaning against the wall for some sense of support. 

“What exactly happened, San?” You ask. The concern in your voice makes him look over at you and for a moment, he thought he saw the previous archon in you. No wonder Yeosang’s been hung up about you. Yet, once he comes to his senses, it’s just the same you. A regular human who carries the cryo vision, yet he could also see why Yeosang would like you regardless of your potential history. 

The rising elevator makes your ears pop, thankfully you manage to hear him say, “We’ll talk about it in Yeosang’s place. Wooyoung’s there as well.” He repeats. There’s no hint of unperceived danger in his voice yet it puts you on the edge. 

The lift rings, notifying them of their arrival. He gestures for you to walk ahead of him, mostly out of your own safety to make sure nothing comes running at you from behind. “2411” The man behind you says, and so you look for the number. It’s deep into the hallway when you finally see his place. San takes the chance to knock on the door thrice, and without missing a beat, it’s Wooyoung that greets the two of you-- slightly worse for wear but nothing you can’t fix. 

He sighs in relief, seeing you in one piece along with San and he lets the two of you in. “I brought your stuff.” You say, handing his duffle bag to him and he manages to let out a sound of relief.

“Yeosang! I’ll go ahead and shower!” He calls out, leaving you and San alone with him. The way Wooyoung has become so casual and comfortable with him doesn’t surprise you anymore. 

San takes up the stool Wooyoung left, you sitting next to him as you try to make sense of his apartment. The wide view of the skyline from wall to wall in the living room was enough to make your head swim with a fear of heights. The colors were on the whites and browns with the occasional accent of black. His kitchen didn’t really help quell your curiosity of just how rich he was. It’s only now that Wooyoung’s words were settling into your head. He’s rich and if your guess is right, he’s probably part of the 0.5% of society. There is no way he can pay for the upkeep of this apartment easily unless he was part of that aspect of society. 

Your eyes return to him as he serves the two of you some of the pasta he had made earlier. “Eat while it’s still hot.” He says for now. San doesn’t mind your questioning gaze on his friend but Yeosang tries not to cave in. Not yet. “I will explain everything once everyone’s cleaned up. It will be a long night for you and Wooyoung especially.” He leaves no room for arguments, and it takes a moment for the archon to realize that he’s using his business voice again. He rubs the back of his neck, albeit uncharacteristic of him as he tried to assert his calm nature just moments ago. “I will take a shower for now, don’t rush your meal for tonight.” Thus leaving the two of you on your own. 

---------

The water runs hot against his skin but the temperature doesn't faze him, steam has already coated the mirrors and the glass tiles. He just stares blankly at the murky rivulets that run down his body and to the drain. Questions still ring in his head as to what could’ve happened, why did it happen, and what had happened. You’d think an aged archon such as he could see the answers easily, yet there’s one thing he can never get right. Humans and their “sense” of logic, the claimed hardest to sway yet here he is wondering why things went the way they did with the adrenaline from the battle wearing off as the hot water relaxes his muscles. 

What was in the store that the Abyss Order thought was of importance? Was it you? 

As much as he loves being with water, he hates how it would remind him of many memories he tries to push away they still come back. Ironic really how water always is in motion, yet he can’t seem to just move on from what has happened years back. He snaps out of his thoughts and finishes washing up for the night, his dirty clothes tossed into the hamper as he changes into his sleep wear for the night. 

One day, the memories won’t hurt anymore. For now, he lets them hurt until the pain ebbs away. He lets himself mourn the pain for a few moments before coming back to reality. He can’t let himself mourn more than needed, there are things he needs to attend to first. 

When he comes back to the kitchen, it’s Wooyoung who is now keeping you company and from the looks of things, he was filling you in on what had happened to the best of his ability. 

“Really,” you sigh, drying your plate as you eye him with concern. “Thank goodness, you had your bracelet on you today. Let me check you for injuries.” You chastise him, not taking a no for an answer as you give his body a quick scan. 

“Ice cube, I think you should be checking on San and Yeosang-- Ow!” He yelps, when he feels your hand press on his shoulder. 

“Did you handle your sword the wrong way again?” You ask, spreading a thin layer of ice on his skin, akin to a muscle relaxant strip. 

The way you know him so well makes him pout. “Maybe..” He mutters, he waits for an earful that never comes. Instead, your attention shifted to Yeosang who has been watching the two of you bicker for what could’ve been this entire time. 

“Oh hey, Yeosang. I was telling them what had happened earlier, well at least the ones I understand.” He changed his seat so that Yeosang could sit next to you. 

Little shit. 

“You didn’t have to clean up.” He says, thanking Wooyoung for the seat. He doesn’t stop you though, you were practically finished with the job anyways. 

“It’s fine. It’s the least I can do. San went to clean himself up a few minutes ago.” You take your seat after cleaning up the dishes, you don’t miss the chance to shoot Wooyoung a glare at his motive though. 

“Then he’ll most likely return in ten minutes. Wooyoung, what have you told them thus far? Just so San and I can fill them in on any questions they might have.” 

“Mostly the fight, what the guys looked like, and your weapons.” He says, a little too enthusiastically thus causing the two of you to look at him with raised eyebrows. “What? It’s not everyday you see a double ended scythe and a sword staff three times taller than San.” 

“I heard that.” A pointed voice comes out from behind the. It was San, fresh out of the shower with an empty look of annoyance on his face. 

“Well, now that we’re here. I suppose we can get started.” 

The four of you take comfort in the living room as this could be a very long discussion. Well, to be specific, it’s only San that manages to find comfort on the couch, lounging on one side like a lazy cat while you and Wooyoung are still in shock over the quality of the place alone. The two of you sit carefully on the couch, Yeosang decides to sit across the two of you. The archon already seems burdened, wondering how else to go about this. 

“For starters,” San suggests. “I think it would be a good idea to tell you that I saw someone at your shop with the insignia on their laptop. It’s safe to guess that they’re part of the Abyss Order.” 

You look at him in confusion. The name rings faint bells but not quite what you were looking for. “The what?” You ask, shifting your glance to Yeosang. The immortals wonder if they saw a spark of fear flash before your eyes as you try to make sense of the situation. 

“The Abyss Order, my dear, they’re a long running organization. They started from wanting to topple Celestia, to wanting to take down the Archons.” It was the simplest way Yeosang could put it. The complete run down of history could take longer than a night and he doubts you and Wooyoung could take so much information within a short period of time. “Their insignia has changed over time. They work in the shadows, feeding opposing ideas to humans in subtle ways that reach the communal consciousness.” There have been certain forms of media that have come out that romanticize questionable lifestyles and choices, that only a handful can tell the Abyss had a hand in them.

“So why were they at my shop? I’m just a regular human trying to make ends meet and make my dreams come true” You say. 

“Regular my butt. Ice Cube, we have visions, I don’t really think we’re regular.” Wooyoung snorts. He has a point, vision carriers weren’t that common. “But that is a good question.” He says after a jab to his side thanks to you. 

Yeosang cups his chin in thought. “My guess is because of San and I.” He returns calmly. “Well, to be exact, me.” 

Wooyoung’s head starts to work into overdrive. “Wait, right.” He cuts his own words off, groaning into his hands. San starts to find his own nails interesting as the conversation shifts to this. Unfortunately you were still unable to make sense out of everything. How could you, your night went from San telling you to pack up, to running through unknown streets, to seeing the three of them in a slightly worse for wear situation to a multimillion apartment.

“Can someone please explain?” You plead, your patience running thin. You don’t like being kept in the dark. You don’t like the familiar feeling of frustration and powerless feeling it brings. 

“My dear, I don’t know how else to say this but I, Kang Yeosang, am the Hydro Archon.” As he reveals this, his eyes glow into the colors of the ocean, with his pupils widening more than normal,  streaks of ice blue against a deeper blue green hue. If you look any closer, you might be able to see hints of white, just like sea foam in his eyes. His skin forms patches of scales on his forearms, but the metamorphosis stops there. He’d rather not turn into full form and cause property damage. “I’ve been the one responsible for giving Hydro visions for as long as I can remember.” He manages to rasp out, his voice now rather hoarse due to the partial transformation.  

Your eyes grow wide, somehow this makes sense and at the same time it doesn’t. This explains his extensive knowledge of history yet at the same time, it’s a struggle to wrap your mind around the mere fact you’ve been catching feelings for an immortal being. Of all beings to fall for, it had to be the Archon. It couldn’t have been someone like Wooyoung but then again, do you really want that?

“He wields a double scythe by the way.” Wooyoung comments under his breath. That part, you can take in stride, your best friend handles a great sword while you used something akin to a floating orb. 

“But wait, you said initially, this Abyss Order’s targets were you and San. Is San an Archon too?” You ask. If he was the Anemo Archon, you might have to cut this discussion short-- it’s been a hectic and eventful day.

“I was offered, but I turned it down.” San says with a shrug. “I prefer just being something like a guardian of a region rather than overseeing the entire world.” He doesn’t continue the story and instead stretches his body out like a cat lazing under the sun.

Yeosang slowly transforms back into that of a regular human. “That’s as far as my guess goes, that I’m the primary target. Anything else is unfortunately beyond my knowledge.” He hasn’t kept in contact with the other archons either so it’s anyone’s guess at this point.

“So what now?” You ask. “I really can’t just stay at my shop 24/7. Wooyoung can’t either, besides the shop, he works at a dance studio too, remember?” 

Yeosang stays silent for a while, thinking through possible remedies for the time being. “Would an additional hand suffice?” 

“I’m not hiring you or San into my shop. I don’t think the salary I can give either of you could compare to the salary in an art museum.” 

“Oh no, not me. The art museum needs San and I to continue running.” He shakes his head. It was a lovely idea though, a nice change from the constant stress of files and intensive care. “I know someone who might be able to help, he’s just like San.” San looks over at Yeosang with a raised brow, raising his head from his arm to get a better view of his friend. 

“I mean, if he’s a friend of yours and is aware that I can’t give a salary as high as you can then I don’t think I can turn down the offer.” 

“Then it’s settled then. I’ll contact Hongjoong tonight to give him the details. If things go as planned, he will be able to meet you tomorrow afternoon.” 

“Oh right, Yeosang put up some sort of protective barrier for the night that spans until early afternoon I think? So more time for us to rest and catch up on sleep.” Wooyoung explains upon seeing your panicked face at the ‘tomorrow afternoon’ part. “So I guess, that’s it for tonight?” Wooyoung asks in a hopeful tone, trying to stifle a yawn with his hands. 

The immortals remember the limitations of humans and thus decide to end the discussion here. “Yes, we can continue this some other time. For the sake of your safety, feel free to come to the art museum. I’ll let the staff know of you to let you through easily. For now, it is better for the two of you to get some rest.” 

San sends him a look, realizing that he had omitted a certain topic out of the discussion. At the mention of rest, you start to feel the exhaustion seep into your bones. Your eyes feel heavy now as Wooyoung’s yawn reminds you of how eventful the day was for both of you. “I’ll lead them to their room.” San offers, much to Yeosang’s relief as he couldn’t handle what San might want to discuss once the two were off to rest. 

Yeosang switches the lights off, bathing the room in darkness and night lights once more. The hallway was dimly lit, making sure that none of his visitors bumped themselves to their slumber. He asks himself why he veered away from the topic of you being a potential interest by the Abyss Order. He wasn’t happy with the answer but it’s the only one he’s got.

He doesn’t want history to repeat itself, yet he knows that those who don’t know it are doomed to repeat it. Even with these worries, he can’t get himself to look at the amulet that rests by his bed side.

--------

Something inside you starts turning. “San, do you remember what the symbol looks like?” You ask carefully, voice barely above a whisper. For Wooyoung’s sake, you didn’t want him to hear this conversation. 

His eyes glance at you after watching Wooyoung flop over the bed. It’s only now that you notice the green streaks in his eyes. “Of course, something wrong?” 

“Can you draw it and send it to me over chat?” You don’t answer his question. “Also, do you have any injuries?” Until you have some sort of confirmation, you won’t divulge any information to him. 

San raises his knee as an answer. “Scraped myself when I had to pin the Abyss members down but nothing too worrisome.” 

“Can I at least fix it? I wasn’t able to ask Yeosang either of his injuries.” San remembers that you were more adept at healing, you can still pack a punch but you preferred to stay at the back. For both of your peace, he enters the room and lets you check on his injuries. 

At least the wound has been cleaned but it’s still very fresh. “This isn’t just a scrape, San.” There’s something in your tone that makes San shrink back like a child. Wooyoung peeks over, your concern catching his attention. 

“That looks pretty bad.” Wooyoung comments much to San’s embarrassment. Never did the guardian expect a human to chide him like a parent-- not even Yeosang did that. 

“It’s not that--” San’s words are cut off by the jolt in temperature. The sharp cold stings against his wound-- maybe he didn’t disinfect it enough. He hears you murmur words of what he can only assume were spells. The intense drop in temperature made his leg stiffen from the sensation, but it was gone as quick as it happened. The guardian looks at his legs and already it was new skin, as if the wounds never even happened and he had just decided to do an exfoliation. “Makes me wonder how you’d be in a fight.” He muses his thanks, running his fingers gently against his healed knee. 

“Please don’t. I might just be the type to cry while fighting.” You plead, much to Wooyoung’s amusement. 

The immortal chuckles at the image, for the most part it is endearing but he tries not to wear down the light conversation with the more realistic thoughts in his head. San stands up and heads towards the door. “Good night you two, the next few days might be a little hectic for the four of us.”

Part 4

[saint-kore]

Sins Of The Flesh [18+] (Tim Curry x Reader)

♡ A/N: Hi everyone! It’s been a while, hasn’t it? I’ve been going through a bit of a writer’s block unfortunately but now, I’m back with a nice treat! This fic is a bit scandalous but it was really fun to write! I listened to a LOT of Hozier while writing, gives me inspiration of sorts lol.  I honestly haven’t written a Tim Curry fanfic in such a long time. I did/attempted to a couple of times whenever I used to lurk on the CurryFest/CurryGirls forum (which I was wayyy too young to be a part of lmao) and it was a good time and Tim Curry is amazing. Mmh but yes, I hope you all enjoy this written smut feast of a fanfic!  -Persie♡

♡ Word count: 5,901 ♡

♡ Contains: Very NSFW, SMUT, A/U, oral sex, rough sex, penetration with a foreign object, taboo sex/sex in a church♡

--

 The stained-glass windows made the walls of the Gothic-style church glow with a colorful hue as you made your way to the confessional booth. It was dark, the golden rays of the sun just peeking out to paint the sky with a dark blue and lavender hue. The sound of your steps echoing off of the walls made you wince slightly, making you almost slow your walk to keep the noise to a minimum. The silence seeming to greet you in a relief when you did, making your body focusing on the throb erupting through your body as you opened the wooden door of the confessional booth and closed it once you sat down.

You glanced over at the young priest sitting silently next to you, his expression calm and patient as he waited to hear your secrets. In the dim light, you could see his green eyes staring ahead, his full pink lips parted slightly. The scent of him thrilled you; a scent of musk, amber and a note that was unfamiliar to you but seemed to round out the scent with an oozing spiciness that made you clear your throat gently at the flickering heat that hit you.

Your secrets.

The sins that invaded your mind and preyed upon your flesh with a predatory delight. The thought made you put a soft hand up to your throat, looking down in despair. Growing up in a strict, religious household was not easy for you; you often longed to be like your peers and other young women around you who were open and wild; the smiles on their faces were ones of joy and youthful exuberance that you longed to obtain or find within yourself. You hated being proper, you found no joy in being a ‘good girl’. You had urges, urges that were described so blissfully in the adult books you often pilfered since you were a preteen, of lust and yearning. A need that led you in the arms of a sweet-talking boy from your church who clumsily handled your body and deflowered you, both of you writhing with the grace of two unpracticed teens discovering their sexual appetite but it didn’t help the feeling. A burning that skyrocketed whenever you were near the young priest beside you and you felt ashamed. Tears prick your eyes as you close them tightly, memories of the first time you met the priest entering your mind.

A bright, wide smile on his full pink lips and a warm handshake has greeted you, followed by a smooth British accent that complemented his warm, deep voice. His dark hair was neatly combed with not a strand out of place, bright green eyes, and a smooth face. He wasn’t that much taller than you, standing over you by a couple of inches with broad shoulders and a charming mien.

From behind the latticed opening, you could see a rosy flush erupt upon the young priest’s face. He quickly swallowed and looked down from you, closing his eyes and saying a silent prayer to himself under his breath. You took the moment of silence from him to continue your confession to him, your hands gripping at the sides of your chair.

“Welcome. I am Father Timothy,” he greeted gently. His voice made you feel like you were being blanketed in liquid gold and honey. You had heard whispers from the other girls about Father Timothy, followed by giggles and adoring coos about how handsome and sweet he was – something that would have definitely gotten them into trouble if heard. It was not as if you did not notice, your thoughts were riddled with thoughts of curiosity that morphed into an infatuation as you spent more time at the church – learning and serving under him. Maybe it was his wide, boyish grins or the way his eyes locked onto you for a second longer than was deemed appropriate or even the way his hand brushed yours as he looked over your scripture reading for the day. The flit of his long, dark lashes and a wicked beam could make you melt in an instant; a feeling that you had never felt for another person and having them so close and so accessible made it feel so immoral. You both had grown so close over time that he granted you permission to call him by his name when you both studied alone. You made sure not to address him by his name publicly, knowing that it would catch the attention of others who would immediately draw their negative conclusions – and maybe rightfully so. You had noticed that he wasn’t as close to the other volunteers and members of the church as he was to you, giving them small nods of acknowledgement or even engaging in moments of laughter. Yet with you, it seemed more personal and somehow even affectionate the way he would speak and interact with you. His eyes always dancing with a little light, swirling in his deep green orbs when he would look at you. The furtive glances and smiles in your direction when you both around others would make you blush. They were looks filled with interest, thought, flickers of longing, you thought. Maybe you weren’t alone in how you felt…

“Forgive me, Father Timothy, Your Reverence for I have sinned, ” you started, finally looking up at him as you addressed him properly. It made you want to look away once more, but you held his stare. “I have been having…lustful thoughts. It has been causing me great distress. I have been trying to pray away the ache and I have gone unanswered…,” you breathed, nervously clasping your hands together.

“I have,” you confirmed, tugging at the puffy sleeves of your thin shirt. You place a hand against the cool wood of the latticed window as you leaned in closer.

“Please…I need your guidance, Father. The thoughts have progressed…,” you whispered urgently, your voice like a honeyed lull in his ear. “I have been trying to get rid of it on my own,”

Your full lips parted, noticing in the corner of your eye that he had tilted his head to gaze at you through the latticed opening. You dared to gaze back at him before lowering your eyes shyly from his warm expression. Your name had slipped from his beautiful lips in a hushed whisper, making you press your thighs together to hold back the roaring need begging for you to succumb.

“When was the last time you touched yourself?” he asked, watching as you had leaned in closer. Sweat started to form on his brow as he stared at you, beginning to imagine you sprawled out on your bed while your hand drifted down your stomach before sliding into your cotton panties to stroke your slippery wetness. He swallowed hard, thinking about how tight, creamy and slick you must be in those moments and wished that he could have witnessed the moments of you giving in to your most carnal desire. Your soft, cherry lips open in an excited moan as your hands worked yourself to a release, your hand stretching the fabric of your panties.

“Last night…,” you replied to his question, making him glance away as his heartbeat picked up.  His hands were gripped into fists as he tried to maintain control over himself.

“What thoughts have made you commit such a sin?” he asked, closing his eyes tightly when he heard the very faint sound of a moan escape you. He could feel your want bubbling to the surface and permeate the room. He reached down and shakily gripped a crucifix in his hot hands, looking up as he waited for you to respond. His face felt hot, trying his best to calm his shaking hands.  

“Have you touched yourself…?” he inquired quietly, making your heart stopped at how husky his voice sounded. His eyes were set on you once more and you could see that he was breathing heavily at this point.

“They were thoughts about a person I see all the time. All I could think about is him…and how it would feel to have his hands all over me and running over the place I need him most. Sometimes it’s almost too much to think about, knowing that at any moment, I might be blessed enough to have his lips brush mine,” you spoke, feeling your heart begin to pour out.

He dared another glance in your direction, his heart almost stopping when he saw the look in your eyes. Gone was the sparkle of shyness that usually danced in your irises, replaced with a darkened smolder of want as your hand continued to press against the window. Your fingertips seemed to trace the design of the lattice lightly, moving along every curve absentmindedly.

You both stared at each other for a long moment, only the sound of your combined heavy breathing filling the air. You started to feel a bit self-conscious under his stare, beginning to rethink your confession.

“Y/N…we mustn’t,” he whispered at you, as if he did not want anyone else to hear his words. His green eyes were wide, his face closer to the confessional window. “It’s not right. You know that - ,”

You shook your head with a frown, realizing what you were doing and immediately felt yourself shrinking down into yourself. You looked down, your face feeling hot from shame as he spoke, and you immediately stood up. He paused in the middle of his speech when he saw you rise, following you out of the confessional booth when you left. He reached out to grab your hand, making you look back at him in surprise.

“Wait…,” he started before you shook your head, his green eyes studying you curiously once you paused.

“I’m so sorry, Timothy. I’m sorry. I feel so embarrassed. I shouldn’t have done this,” you spoke up, glancing down at your intertwined hands.

“I’m…more so surprised that you have these…feelings for me,” he said with a chuckle, trying to lighten up the mood a bit but the look in your eyes automatically intensified the moment once again.

“It’s hard to deny. Just being near you and around you make me feel good and it just feels different. I always want to feel that way and it has progressed into…this,” you explained, gazing at him with a gentle gaze. You stepped closer to him, reaching out to touch his chest. You held your breath as you did, ready for him to step away from you. You were surprised to see that he stood rooted to the spot that he was in, looking down at you with an unreadable expression. You kept you hand on his chest, feeling the warmth radiating from him. You could feel his heartbeat through the fabric, feeling it slowly begin to pick up beneath your palm. You blinked once he took his hand from his chest and brought it up to his lips to kiss your hand, placing a kiss to each one of your knuckles. You watched closely, his soft lips moving to kiss around to the inside of your wrist. You gasped gently at the sensitivity, his eyes moving to meet yours again as he pulled his lips back. His eyes slowly gained a hazy look to them as he eyed you, stroking the inside of your wrist as if he wanted to embed the kiss he placed there into your skin.

He reached to cup your cheek, the sensation making you focus on your breathing and your hand clenching at his chest, crumpling the creased fabric in your fist. Timothy seemed to hesitate for a moment, breathing from his mouth as his gaze roamed over your face and down your body.

“God, forgive me…,” he breathed, making you furrow your brows in confusion and hoped that he wouldn’t pull away again

A sharp cry escaped you, your hands moving to grip the sides of the altar as he moved his head from side to side. He let out a ravenous moan, spreading your thighs wide as he continued to devour you. His hot tongue slid from your tight opening and up to circle around your slippery jewel, eliciting a shaky moan from you. He latched his mouth around it, moaning at the taste of you. He used his thumbs to spread the puffy lips of your pussy, moving his lips from you for a moment to watch your wetness drip down your quivering cunt. He moved to lick at every drop that you gifted him, his tongue then moving to lash at your opening before he gripped your ass and pressed his tongue deep inside of your creamy slit.

“Wh--,” you were unable to finish your thought as he pressed his lips to yours in a deep kiss, both his hands coming up to cup your face as he did. You were surprised by the action but quickly began to move your lips against his, the desire that had pooled inside of your over time started to come out in that moment. You moved your arms to wrap around his neck, your hand clenching at his dark hair and tugging lightly. He let out a soft groan and moved to lift you, making you let out a surprised gasp before immediately caught yours again. You kissed him back, making sure to hold onto him as he carried you towards the white marble altar. He carefully laid you across the it, the flowers that were laid upon it falling to the floor. His hands moved up your legs, bunching your skirt up to expose your soft skin to him.

You watched with heavy lidded eyes as he parted your legs and was immediately greeted with the sight of your soft thighs and thinly covered pussy, hearing him let out a deep, guttural groan as he buried his face against your mound. He let out a moan as he inhaled the scent of you before nipping at the cotton of your panties that concealed your wetness from his hungry mouth. You shifted against the altar, feeling him grab ahold of your hips and pulled you closer to him. His hand pushed your long skirt up higher to grab at the waistband of your panties. You put your legs up as he slid them off, his hands moving to hold your legs up and together by your thighs before he pressed his hungry mouth to your juicy mound.

You let out a needy moan, his eyes watching in awe as you pulled and tugged the thin, puffed cotton shirt off of your upper half. Your nipples immediately hardened when the air hit them, his eyes glittering at the sight. He moved up to press your breasts together, suckling hard on your sensitive nipples before moving to give the other equal attention pulling a lewd moan from your throat. He slid his tongue between the valley of your breasts with a hungry moan before pulling back. He moved down to roughly pull off your skirt, tossing it on the ground and leaving you completely naked upon the altar. He knelt back down between your thighs, his hands firmly pushing them up and apart.

Hearing you coo out his name as his pink lips pressed against the pulsing jewel made him close his eyes, his cock twitching beneath his soutane. He reached down to rub himself through the dark robes, his hardness straining against his pants. He moaned deeply as he continued to lap at your wetness, obsessed with the taste of you.

You kept them in the position that he set them in, letting out a long hum of pleasure when he circled his tongue up and down the length of your pussy once more before giving little suckles at your throbbing clit.

You could not contain the passionate moans and gasps that left your lips at the sensation, one had moving to clasp over your mouth to try to muffle the sound. You were gratefully that you both were the only ones at the church at the moment. Your thoughts were interrupted when his tongue slid out of you to latch onto one of your nether lips, moaning as he suckled on it like a ripened peach. His green eyes looked up at you, urged on by your moans to continue as his nibbled on you lightly before turning to bite at the soft skin of your thigh, suckling hard to leave a mark in its wake. He licked and suckled his way all over your thighs, nibbling and biting sharply at the smooth skin. He moved back in, slurping up your wetness as he continued to grip and knead your ass. He pulled back with a shuddering breath, his darkened eyes watching you squirm in anticipation of his next move.

“Timothy…,”

Timothy felt your gushing wetness dribble down his chin continued to thrust his tongue in out of you, moaning out as you gripped at his head and made him bury his face deeper into your cunt. He quickly moved his hands down to undo his pants, moaning in relief as he was able to release himself from his pants. He quickly began to stroke himself as he continued to explore your walls with his tongue, his nose pressed and rubbing against your clit. He heard your moans become longer and breathier, making him moan more against you before pulling back. He began to stroke your sensitive clit, licking the taste of you from his bottom lip.

“Oh Timothy…,” you moaned out, unable to recognize your own voice as you called out to him. He latched onto your clit again when he heard you moan out his name again, his needy moan vibrating against you as he began to move his fingers a bit faster inside of you. The sound of your wetness echoing off the vast walls of the church along with your unsteady moans. A hungry moan escaped his lips again, slowly pulling his fingers out of you again before parting your lips again. He buried his face back into your dripping cunt, his tongue sliding in and out of you as he began to tongue fuck you. Your hand remained on the back of his head, clenching and tugging at his black locks as he worked. You shuddered and moaned passionately as you felt yourself getting closer and closer to your release, his tongue rubbing and sliding against your soaked walls before flitting against the ridged love spot.

“Release for me…please, I want to taste all of you…,” he groaned, continued to press and gently flick your clit and smiling as you twitched under the sensation. You felt something coiling like a spring inside of you, your hips raising up as your body began to tighten as he continued to rhythmically stroke and flick at your jewel. He let out a mewl before he moved to plunge his tongue back inside of you, your mouth becoming dry from your constant moans.

“Yes…yes….,” you moaned out, your walls tightening around his greedy, thrusting tongue as he worked to drive her closer and closer. You suddenly let out a sharp gasp, your hips jolting as you release. He moaned out, his hand swiping and stroking his cock a few more times before he used both of his hands to grip your thighs and held them apart as he licked and slurped down your sweet release. He panted, licking happily at her opening for every ounce of cum that you released. You watched as he stood back up, staring at you intensely as he stroked himself in front of you. Your lips parted, sitting up on your elbows as you watched him. His hand worked up and down his shaft, watching the small pearl of precum form at the tip before his fingers came up to swipe it away as he smoothed around his tip.

“I want to hear you say my name again,” he purred darkly, spreading your lips apart again with one hand as his other hand stroked your wetness slowly. He used one of his warm fingers to press against your wet slit, his lips parting as he watched your wetness glisten against his hand. You whimpered softly, your hips shifting at the new sensation. You heard him murmur at you to relax before he pushed a finger inside of you. You gasped at the new sensation, wanting to clasp your legs together but you kept your legs apart as he invaded her soft, wet walls. Timothy groaned at the feeling of your walls clasping around his digit, leaning up to generously lick at your swollen clit once more. He closed his eyes, moaning to himself as he began to slowly thrust his finger in you. You moaned out, gazing up at the ceiling as tried your best to focus on the sensations occurring between your thighs. The combined colors of the stained windows upon the domed ceiling like a kaleidoscope to your hazy eyes. When he curled his finger inside of you, your hands shot down to grip at his dark hair with a surprised moan. Your thighs tensed as he continued before he moved to push another finger inside of you, moving his fingers in a scissoring motion to open you up.  

He was immediately pulled in by your bright eyes, shy smiles and your will to help others within the church and the charitable tasks that everyone participated in. Yet, he was also ensnared by the sway of your hips, the swell of your breasts beneath your button ups and the soft skin that would occasionally become exposed from your midriff when you would reach for something on a shelf or whenever you would bend down to and your skirt would slide up the back of your thighs. The way you would bite the side of your lip while you concentrate always distracted him or whenever you brush your soft hand against your round throat absentmindedly as you read through scripture. He even would lean close to you in those moments, his nose immediately hit with the scent of your sweet, floral perfume. It was exhilarating and frightening to find you occupying his dreams during the night and silently hoping that it felt real enough just to feel a tiny wisp of your touch on his skin. He had that moment now and wasn’t going to let the moment slip from him.

“Pull your legs up…,” he commanded firmly, making you jump slightly before you grabbed your legs by the back of your knees and pulled your legs up against you. You blushed as your pussy was completely exposed to him once again, watching as he stepped forward with a grin. He began to unbutton his soutane, removing the coat before loosening his shirt after. You began to wonder what he would do next, your heart picking up as all of the possibilities floated through your mind. You hitched a breath as you felt a number finger slide up and down your extremely sensitive pussy. The sensation boarded on being too extreme, a hiss escaping your hoarse throat as he teased you lightly. You suddenly felt cold metal touch you, it was rounded, and you let out a cry as it brushed your slippery clit. You heard a dark chuckle escape him, one that was unfamiliar to you. You felt a renewed dark lust wash over you before a sharp cry escape you as he pushed the item inside of you. Your eyes rolled back for a moment as it plunged into you, making you part your legs slightly. A gasp escaped you when you saw the glint of the silver cross slowly pushed inside of you. He left it planted snugly inside of you, flicking at your clit before giving it a light tug with his lips. He laughed softly at the moan that escaped you, moving towards the other end of the altar where your head laid.

He gently pulled you upward, making you automatically let go of the back of your knees. You kept your legs apart, moaning at the sensation of the cross shifting inside of you. Your head hung off of the altar, watching as his legs moved as he walked back around to your bottom half. You moaned out he made sure that the cross stayed planted inside of your soft, wet opening. Timothy moaned as he could see you pussy clinging at it. You felt his hand brush against your stomach and breasts as walked back around to your head. You felt slightly lightheaded; your lips parting as you watched him exposed himself to your eyes. You studied his veiny shaft, the light pink tip leaking before he took a hold of the base of shaft and brushed against your pouty lips and chin. He traced your lips with the tip, hearing him breathing heavily above you.

“You’re so beautiful…,” he breathed, a groan following quickly behind as his cock twitched in his palm. He looked at your body for a moment, taking in the sight of your bare flesh and immediately thought of all the times he has imagined this before. It was inappropriate, it was sinful, it was all of the things that shouldn’t run through the mind of a man of God but, he was still a man. He knew that dedicating his life to a purpose such as this at a young age would come with its temptations and when he first met you, he knew that you were one of the lures.

“Open your mouth,” he spoke in a raspy tone, his accent heavier than before. You moaned lightly before parting your lips for him, moaning as he plunged his length into your mouth. You closed your eyes tightly, feeling his hot hand grasp lightly at your throat as he slowly thrusted into your mouth. You heard a series of heated moans leaving his lips. Your tongue slid on the top of his cock as he thrusted, clenching your throat tighter. You moaned, your hips twisting slightly as he continued. The sound of his soft praises met your ears, making your moan around his cock. You gagged once he gave a hard thrust, lodging himself in your throat and swallowed around his thick length. You struggled to breathe as he leaned over you, a whimper escaping you as he gave your wet mound a light smack. You moaned loudly around his cock, your eyes clenched tightly as he began to move it inside of you for a moment before giving your pussy a couple of harder smacks and making another muffled cry erupt from you. He gave your wet, suckling mouth a couple of hard thrusts before finally pulling out. You let out a gasp, breathing heavily as you tried to catch your breath. You obediently opened your mouth again for him once he came back, groaning as he began to thrust into your mouth once more, his tip moving to enter her throat once more. His hands moved to grab at your breasts, roughly kneading them as he thrusted hard into your mouth. You gagged and coughed around him, focusing on his loving, passionate words and mewling moans through the act. You did your best to take it, his slick cock sliding in and out of your mouth.

“Oh Y/N…,” Timothy moaned out, rolling his hips to plunge his shaft deep into your throat and holding it there. You felt the saliva from your efforts rolling down your face, making you close your eyes tighter. You breathed through your nose, gagging loudly and hearing him groan out as your throat muscles clasped at him. He gave your throat a hard squeeze, making you let out strangled yelp around him. A loud hiss escaped him as he gave you several short yet hard thrusts deep in your throat before suddenly pulling out, gasping again and coughing to catch up with the needed oxygen. Your face was soaked with saliva as you slowly sat up. Your limbs were shaky as you kept your sore legs parted. You moaned as he pressed Timothy pressed his lips roughly to yours, pressing his tongue into your mouth. His tongue swirled around yours before suckling on your tongue lightly, pulling back after. He gazed at you with heavy-lidded eyes, stroking your cheek.

Timothy smirked softly, gently using the cloth from his pant pocket to wipe the mess from your face. He leaned in to give you bottom lip a little suckle and another peck on the lips before leaning his forehead on yours. Your eyes gazed into his green orbs, staring deep into your eyes.

He smiled wider as his hand went between your legs to slowly pull the cross out of your pussy, seeing that he was completely coated with your essence. He moaned as he looked at it, bringing it to his lips to lick away some of your juices while staring into your eyes. He leaned it towards your lips and you immediately opened your mouth to suckle at the warm juices that leaked down the cross. Timothy’s smile faded as he watched with a parted mouth, his swollen lips reddened and wet with your essence. He pulled the cross away to press his lips to yours once more, kissing you deeply once more and moaning softly when he could taste you on your tongue.

He threw the cross onto the ground as you parted, nibbling on your lip briefly before grabbed you and turned you to bend over the altar. You let out a soft moan, your hands pressed against the polished marble of the altar. Your arms were shaking as you waited for his next action, feeling him press a strong hand against your back to make you arch. You instinctively stood on your tiptoes, feeling his hands knead and rub your ass once more. You focus on the wall in front of you, feeling the cool metal of his belt brush against the back of your thigh as he got close, his heat radiating against your back side. You let out a hoarse moan, feeling him slowly press himself inside of you. You heard a loud moan leave him as he stretched your walls, his grip on your hips becoming rougher as his fingers pressed into your soft skin. Your hands balled up into fists as you felt his hips press firmly against yours, his shaft settled deep inside of you.

He slowly pulled back before rolling his hips forward, giving you a deep thrust before setting into a punishing rhythm. His hands kept ahold of your hips, the sound of his pants and deep groans filling air as he thrusted into you. You couldn’t hide the passionate moans that left your lips, trying your best to stay up. Timothy took note of this and grabbed a fistful of your hair, keeping you up as he began to thrust harder into you, his hips smacking against your ass.

“Oh yes…,” he moaned deeply, giving a sharp tug at your hair to pull another loud moan from you. He slammed into you a couple of more times and let out a loud moan of pleasure, your cunt gripping his cock firmly. He gave gentle pat to your behind before pulling out, making you lay down on the altar once more.

He grabbed your legs and positioned them over his shoulders, his cock aiming at your drenched slit before slowly pushing into you once more. You watched his face as his eyes rolled back, feeling him rolling his hips against you before pulling back to start up a thrusting rhythm once more. His hips smacked hard against the back of your thighs as he slammed into you, a crying moan living your lips as he continued. He grabbed your hips, helping you meet his thrusts as he continued to plunge into you. His eyes widened as you reached down to rub at your already sensitive clit as he thrusted, a whimper escaping him as he watched your circled your clit and gently rubbed it in time with his thrusts. The sight made him thrust harder, locking eyes with you when he felt himself getting closer to his release. His hand slid up your belly to grip at your throat, clenching firmly as he pounded into you roughly. You kept eye contact with him, feeling his cock throb inside of you. Your moans becoming more and more intense as he continued to roughly handle you. You let out a soft cry as you came once again, your walls rippling around his shaft. You gasped as he clenched your throat tighter at the sensation of you releasing around his cock, giving you a few more hard thrusts before giving you one last hard thrust and kept himself burying himself inside of you as he came hard inside of you.

A loud groan left him, giving shallow thrusts as he emptied himself inside of you. You felt the warmth of his seed spread inside of you; the feeling was comforting in a way. You both stayed intertwined before he slowly lowered your legs from his shoulders. You winced lightly at the sensation, but he handled you with care, making sure not to make your legs swing.

“Come here…,” he whispered as he opened his arms to you, making you slowly sit up to accept his embrace. He leaned down to give you a passionate kiss, nuzzling his nose against yours after. He smoothed your hair back from your face, kissing your forehead before rubbing your arms gently to warm you when he noticed you shiver and gave you another warm, long embrace. He gathered your clothes for you, being gentle as he possibly could with your sensitive body. You felt so special, as if you were made of priceless porcelain with the care that he made sure to give you.

Timothy looked at you with a warm admiration after you both fixed yourselves up. You were carefully as you stood up, his seed still warm in your belly as the vibrant rays of sunlight began to rise and change the color from its former lavender to a true blue as the morning began to come in with renewed life.

“Will you be attending service today?” he asked softly as he walked with you, making you smile at him.

“Maybe,” you responded quietly, glancing over at him. A broad smile broke over his face as he rubbed your back before quickly, chastely pecking your cheek again and stroked your chin lightly. He bit his lip as he looked at you, glancing at the window furtively when he saw cars pulling up to the church, signaling the early risers arriving. He sighed inwardly, not wanting the moment to end. He knew that you probably wouldn’t come to service but wanted to make sure to see you again today.

“See me later then? I want to do this different. Properly…,” he asked quietly, grabbing ahold of your hand momentarily and continued to stroke your chin. You smiled sweetly at him before quickly nodding in response, feeling him squeeze your hand firmly in promise of what was to come before you both parted ways until the moment you would be in each other’s arms once more.

 ♡

[siswritesyanderes]

You know what would be a great yandere fic . Yandere tom x sister reader (Tom Sr daughter) or better yet twin sister.

(I just posted one for the latter, so here’s the former, lol.)

—

Tom was not looking for anything when he wandered the Riddle house after killing his father and grandparents. He merely had some downtime before it would become necessary to leave (His pathetic Uncle Morfin was already suitably bewitched to implicate himself for the murders.), and he chose to spend a few minutes of it looking around at what might have been his life, had his filthy father not abandoned his weak mother.

The mansion was opulent, exactly what he deserved. He deserved to have spent a childhood here. He expected the sight to infuriate him, and his mind even helpfully conjured memories of his worst days in the orphanage: his coldest, hungriest, most ostracized days. But he felt nothing. He trailed his fingers over the smooth, ornate banister as he ascended a lavish staircase, and he pictured himself sliding down the banister as a child, or reading on the stairs, or sitting in one of those cushy armchairs his grandparents had been occupying before he killed them, and he felt nothing.

He reached the second floor of the house, and that was when he started to hear the faint sounds of movement. He quickly cast a disillusionment charm on himself; he could kill whatever housemaid was moving around up here, but he didn’t have to, and he would prefer to not interrupt his prowl of the place with something so irrelevant.

As such, the room where the sounds were being made was the last one he peeked into (after the master bedroom, guest bedroom, closets, and lavatories).

He expected to see a servant tidying up another guest bedroom, but instead…

He stared.

He hadn’t even considered a sibling.

The room was bright, for there were curtains pulled back from a large window. There were several bookshelves, and an enormous bed done up in pastel colors.

And there was also a girl.

She looked about thirteen or fourteen, to his sixteen, and she was seated on the edge of the bed, scribbling in a leather-bound journal.

Tom moved closer, intrigued.

That was his face. Pretty, like him. Thomas Sr’s genes must have really been something; most impeccably, that was the face of his younger self, but with long hair in pigtails and wearing an expensive pink sundress. A female version of the self he had just finished imagining occupying this large house.

She pinched her lips together, in thought, as she wrote, still oblivious to his presence, and oblivious to the deaths downstairs. No magic, intact soul, happy, wealthy existence.

He tried again to muster anger, hatred, but all he had was curiosity. He ran his fingers over one of her pigtails, not enough to move it and alert her to his presence.

A Muggle half-sister, of all things. He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised.

He tried to see what she was writing, but lost his balance slightly, and she sprang from the bed, startled by the sound of the mattress creaking under his weight, and swept a confused gaze over the room. Spooked as if she thought her bedroom might be haunted.

It was odd to see fear on his own face; he would never have allowed such emotion to show, and suddenly the thought of her showing such expressive looks to people annoyed him to no end. He couldn’t have people, not even strange Muggles, knowing what fear looked like on him.

He took out his wand, and the thought crossed his mind that he really ought to kill her, but instead, he whispered, “Imperio.”

A look of bliss spread across her face, her eyes unfocusing and her grip on her journal relaxing so much that she almost dropped it to the floor. Tom’s own lips twitched, seeing such a joyful expression. He always resisted the Imperious curse, because he rejected the undignified feelings it inspired. He was glad for that; he would never want anyone else to see such a look on his face. Just imagine. But it was funny to see now; he was alone, and it was alright to indulge in such ridiculousness alone. 

There was no reason he couldn’t keep her, was there? Hide her away somewhere until he grew tired of her or he completed his education, at which point he wouldn’t need to be as discreet.

Or, another idea, sort of interesting and quite amusing…

Tom checked his watch; the Ministry might have noticed the use of Dark Magic in this area, by now. If they were especially efficient today; he had used a certain peer connection to work out what the maximum and minimum response times were, for the Trace, and was using the most pessimistic estimates, for the sake of caution.

He took his sister’s arm– She was still standing dazed by the curse –and apparated them both to the Gaunt home to give Morfin his wand back. The Imperious curse didn’t wear off until they were both in the cavern at the beach he had visited with the orphanage a few times, at which point he was halfway through the Horcrux ritual.

Or, more accurately, he had finished the ritual for the Horcrux he had planned to make today, the Gaunt ring now adorning his finger, and was halfway through an unplanned second ritual.

“Where am I?” the girl asked, in a high, frightened voice.

He shushed her, and even bothered to smile comfortingly, because letting her fuss might disrupt the ritual. Putting her under the Imperious again would be too risky; adding another spell to the mix of enchantments he was already laying on her might be just as bad as just letting her squirm, if not worse. Fortunately, he had had the foresight to bind her with ropes.

“What’s happening?” she whispered, but at this point he was too busy murmuring incantations to reply and anyway he had already shushed her, so she shouldn’t have been speaking in the first place. His lack of response dissuaded her from asking again, so she simply started silently crying in fear.

Tom had never watched himself cry before; he hadn’t cried since he was quite young, and he had detested the criers in the orphanage. He was especially glad that the Riddles were dead, knowing that they had likely seen his sister cry many times.

After the ritual, he would Obliviate her, to allow for a more friendly introduction. He would preserve her innocence about the Riddles, if possible; wasn’t that innocence just delightful? This weak parallel self could never be what he was. 

The ritual ended, another bit of his soul squared away in its protective container, and Tom, moved by some parody of sentiment, laid a kiss on his sister’s cheek, aiming for the glint of silver wandlight reflecting in her tears. His lips tasted like salt when he withdrew.

“What is your name?” he asked, so that he would already know it once she didn’t remember this interaction.

She told him, first middle and last, as though she hoped that he would help her find her family home or something. As if she thought she was lost. 

Embarrassingly trusting. She was simply adorable. (Even if Dumbledore learned of his Horcruxes, would the old man have it in him to destroy this one?)

He Obliviated her, then, and Imperioused her for good measure, and mulled over how he would smuggle her into Hogwarts this year. Once she was there, he could keep her in the Chamber of Secrets, or in the secret room he had found, which transformed to accommodate his every need. The former, most likely; that one he could be certain no one else was accessing, instead of just reasonably sure.

“You’re happy to be holding my soul for me, aren’t you?” he asked, and she nodded, in her blissed out, ignorant state. “Yes, you will be a lot of fun to play with, I’m sure.”

[ninjafairy86]

On Writing Tomione: An Introspect

I’m not one to get involved in fandom discourse (which I don’t really count this as discourse), because I typically couldn’t be bothered. Everyone has their opinions and I’m not out there trying to change minds on a topic if I don’t agree with it (or further discussing said topic if I do agree with it), because I respect their differing views.

It’s no secret, that for roughly the last two years, I have fallen out of the Tomione ship/fandom. Yeah, I still like the idea of Tomione. But I find it nearly impossible to read and write it now. I could NOT figure out why, for the life of me. Was it because of my busy schedule? Depression? Anxiety? Writer’s Block? (Which I do not believe exists, but we’ll sit on that egg and hatch it another day.)

Yeah, I’ve been busy with my personal life. I dealt with toxic family drama that I got my son and I out of earlier this year. COVID-19 happened. I started a new job teaching in a public school during this god forsaken pandemic - in fucking Florida, of all places. (I’m sure most of you know how Florida is handling that bullshit - don’t even get me started. Thank God I have an amazing principal. Anyway). I tried dating during a pandemic as a single mother in her mid-30′s on dating apps (In which I was harshly reminded that most men are trash. 1 out of 5 stars. Would not recommend.).

But while reading a lot of (too much, lol) Zutara fic, I realized something about my own Tomione fics and why I have spent so much time staring blankly at my empty Word document for the next chapter of Fostering a Nightmare: I was guilty of hard-core romanticizing Tom Riddle.

Everything I wrote was about him. Everything was experienced through him, even from Hermione’s perspective. Sure, most versions of fanfiction Tom Riddle, he is a narcissist or a sociopath or whatever other neurological diagnosis you want to slap on his forehead. That’s all fine and dandy, I enjoy writing characters who have mental illness, but I discovered that I am disgusted by the way I’ve written him in some of my stories and that is why I’m having struggles with getting back into the ship as a writer. I’m also disgusted by the way other authors write him sometimes (no offense to any of you - write him however you want. I’m not saying you are wrong or telling you how to write him), and I just want him to get his comeuppance and fucking die by Hermione’s hands in every damn story, including most of my own.

Another problem I realized: I made Hermione passive often without even realizing it. Here I was, thinking I was writing this strong female character, when, - hah - newsflash, you dumb bitch, I was not. Sure, there were times when I thought I was, but I wasn’t - not really. (The only fic I feel like Hermione is genuinely strong is in my pirate au, but that Tom is rather tame and not abusive).

So, I thought to myself: I love the premise of my fanfics. Maybe I could rewrite them and change the writer’s tone, the storytelling, and the interactions between characters. Tom can still be an asshole, but it will be obvious that he is an asshole. I will not romanticize him via my writing (he can romanticize himself all damn day long, if he wants). Hermione will not be passive in whatever relationship they have. Maybe, if I do this, I will feel inspired to write Tomione again.

But, ya’ll, holy shit balls. Have you ever looked at your writing from years ago and thrown up in your mouth a little bit? Like, straight up acid reflux? lmao I’m daunted by the task and I have no idea where to start. I’m not even sure if I even want to.

I wasn’t planning on welcoming discussion on this topic, but I’m curious to hear your thoughts. Am I alone in feeling this way?

[chaoticneutralwriter]

Twice Fallen

I implore thy loving kindness,

that even as thou didst stand beside thy dear Son as He hung upon the Cross,

so wilt thou also stand by me,

a poor sinner?

guardian demon! Jimin x reader

word count: 6.2k (the longest 6.2k of my life)

genre: angst, romance, comedy, supernatural, drama, slow-burn

Related Works: See Masterlist under Guardian Demon!Jimin

A/N: There’s a lot of Catholicism and religious things going on because well... Angels and demons LOL This is all a work of fiction inspired from real places so that’s my disclaimer here. Also it’s like...half edited xD Other than that....NAE PI TTAM NUNMUL

As the days went on, you become more riddled with an anxiousness that had overtaken every nerve in your body as a multitude of thoughts swirl around your head like an endless whirlpool. First and foremost of course, was the fact that you had exactly five days before you and your friend were due to fly out to attend the BTS concert. That alone was enough to put you in a loop, it had made you so restless that you had gone out of your way to ask co-workers if they could cover your shift — a needless attempt; you knew you were only trying to trick yourself into thinking those were your only first world problems. You shouldn’t have been as surprised when Emily had told you she had already agreed to take your shift once you came around to asking her.

“You asked me that like last week.” She had laughed good-naturedly, patting you on the shoulder in a sympathetic way. “Now I really think you need those days off if you’re starting to lose your memory like this.”

You really don’t have any memory of this though.

But it wasn’t hard to recall Jimin’s words of him promising you that he would make this trip work, no matter what. Not that you had doubted his abilities, but it’s never like you to leave everything up to one person (supernatural or not); you blame the many botched group projects in college you’ve been through for that. More so, you have come to realize, is that a small part of you had done it in hopes of being able to do something for Jimin that would repay even a fraction of what he’s doing for you. This was probably a small, insignificant thing in comparison but it was something you had some semblance of control over that didn’t necessarily require any otherworldly intervention. You should’ve known it was a losing battle from the start.

With that being said, any thoughts of the aforementioned guardian demon these days automatically leads you back to the conversation you had with Jungkook. It hasn’t faded since those three days ago, merely sitting on the back of your mind and only growing in size. You catch yourself spacing out a few times just thinking about all sorts of things that involve him.

Like maybe —  actually — giving up your soul to him.

….Yeah that was quite the conclusion you came to but you can almost pin point the exact moment when you did. It came to you when you had spilled your guts about Jimin to Jungkook on that rooftop garden; never having been able to put into words your honest thoughts about him until the other demon had practically cornered you into doing it. Despite the embarrassment threatening to consume you whole, it was eye opening for you in which you’ve accepted that the only way you can come close to repaying Jimin was to give up your life to him or at least promise it in due time and… you’re okay with that idea.

Weird and concerning, rightfully so but it’s like the half of you that thinks this is utterly mad and the other, more nihilistic side of you had come into terms with one another in the form of one sole agreement that if it had to be any demon, better it be him right?

As they say, you’re only here for a good time, not a long time.

You exhale through your nose in a quiet huff of laughter, subtle enough that the lady passing by behind you doesn’t pay you any notice as you’re restocking the jewellery racks. Today is one of those rare moments that you’re given a task out on the floor away from cash for once and though you’re elated at being able to do something else for a change, your thoughts don’t revolve around whether or not you can fit just one more pair of earrings on this already overstuffed looking hook.

Even if you had settled on the idea of giving your soul to Jimin, the most important question is how? Theoretically, it seems simple enough, at least what you’re picturing in your head — you tell him you want to do it, he says yes and then gets you to sign it away in agreement in whatever form the contract is (maybe something similar to your contract with him now but altered? Who knows). Or maybe in your complete lack of knowledge in demonology, it’s way more complex than that. You could technically ask Jungkook…

Would that even be a good idea? You’re not sure, especially not after the talk you had with him — keeping that ‘good’ head of yours in tact and whatnot. But then again, you’re not entirely sure what he meant by it anyways. You pause your train of thought until a heaving sigh escapes past your lips, your shoulder deflating as your lips purse into a thin line when you realize; you don’t even have any means to contact Jungkook. He’s more of an entity who comes and goes with nothing to tether him to this world, so he’s expressed he’s never had the need for things like a mobile device.

Which means your other option for getting any type of information on this would be from the main demon himself; Jimin.

Except for two things.

One: how does one broach the topic of forfeiting their own soul over to their guardian demon? You suppose it’s not exactly an ‘over dinner’ sort of conversation. The closest thing to a timing you had in mind would be after the concert; fitting in a way where you get your wish fulfilled and now you must pay the price owed.

However, that leads you to two; you don’t have a single clue where the guardian demon in question had gone off to. The last you saw of him was when he had walked you home those nights ago and from then, you haven’t heard from him since. You’ve tried shooting another text and hell, even pushed aside your anxiety and pride to call him for the first time ever, only to receive no response for either occasion; just radio silence. And it’s not even on the matter of telling him you’re willing to give your soul up for him — he still hasn’t told you what your flight, where your tickets or your hotel is!

You force yourself to breathe in deeply before exhaling slowly. Relax, you still technically have time, you try to reassure yourself. Not as much as you want for not knowing some important travel details, but enough that you’d still be able to set off without a hitch.

You trust Jimin.

He hasn’t let you down yet, nor do you think he will any time soon.

You’re confident.

-

Rome, Vatican City

A sigh involuntarily escapes the demon’s lips as he takes in the view in front of him, having not imagined that he would be here, of all places after so many years. The city is alive even if it is late into the night, the piazza lit up to cast a romantic glow on the cobble streets as crowds of people continue to stroll around in leisure. It should be no surprise though; the mild spring weather is well under way here, so much that Jimin thinks it might even be above seasonal. That doesn’t stop him from wearing the long, black overcoat over his airy chiffon button down shirt and the way it billows out behind him as he strides down this Italian street has people turning heads thinking he should be in Milan rather than here, much less how warm he must be feeling underneath it.

It pulls a small smile from him, a small distraction from his purpose here and a last ditch effort to put himself in a better mood before he has to put on a cloaking spell, hiding him from any mortal eyes. Before long, Jimin is upon the entrance to the grand circular plaza. In the centre of it, he spots the unmistakable shape of the Egyptian obelisk, the tall monument sticking out like a sore thumb amongst the Roman-Catholic structures surrounding it. Strangely enough, the more he stared at it, the more Jimin begins to feel in-like with the structure — a nameless fixture in history that eventually had its roots erased, “christianized” and erected by some old fart named Pope Sixtus V to celebrate the triumph of the Church over paganism.

Ugh.

At least it was a witness to St. Peter’s crucification (or so it was apparently said).

Jimin rolls his neck, a twitch in the muscle that had it stiffen uncomfortably before he exhales loudly through his nose.

Right.

He reminds himself to be mindful of where he is, of what he’s about to do. He may have a get out of jail free card but it won’t be nearly enough credentials to win any favours here. So Jimin steels himself, squaring his shoulders and with much more effort than he wants to admit, he begins to make his way across the plaza into a demon’s lion den. He takes care in keeping pace, steps unfaltering and gaze hardened in resolution. Jimin maneuvers inconspicuously through the lingering crowds of tourist and locals alike with the grace of a seasoned dancer but no matter how much he ducks and weaves, he cannot escape the burning sensation of being watched like an ant under a magnifying glass by the figures that seem to close in on him with every step he takes to the basilica.

All 140 of them.

And they all seem to whisper in their harrowing voices, the same obtrusive word in his ear.

Demon.

Jimin is clenching his jaw and fists by the time he reaches the grandiose staircase, his nails digging into his clammy palms until they leave deep crescent indents. A ragged exhales passes his lips, a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding until now and it makes him chastise himself. He passed the Apostolic Palace just fine, not even a single sign of getting smote. If he’s breaking out into a cold sweat from a little bit of verbal intimidation here, then what good is he by the time he has to go inside?

Jimin’s eyes slide up to take in the building that has become one of the most symbolic landmark in the religious world and the reason for his odd visit to a place he should be avoiding at all cost.

The Papal Basilica of St. Peter in the Vatican, or otherwise simply known as St. Peter’s Basilica.

Its dome shape roof looms above him, an imposing shadow even if it is lit by a multitude of beams of spotlights along its base and all around the facade — the lights only adding to its size. Doesn’t help that at either ends of the steps are the statues of St. Paul with his golden sword and St. Peter, the man himself, as if they’re there to personally greet all those who enter this holy space; whether with open arms or a strike of sword in His name, Jimin is not sure.

The basilica is closed to the public, the hours of which it is open has long since passed but despite that, Jimin waits, fixed in his spot as he simply stares unseeingly, a myriad of events all leading up to this very moment passing before his eyes.

-

“I’m only going to say this once, so you better listen.” Jungkook states sternly after he knocks back his drink. He places his glass down on the sleek black marble bar top a little too roughly. For once, Jimin refrains from commenting, not wanting to anger the young demon who no doubt, has zero tolerance for banter right now. As they say, let sleeping tigers lie. So Jimin straightens more in his seat, giving Jungkook his full attention.

“First, you must seek the one who has been given the keys of the kingdom of heaven by His Holiness — the gatekeeper, St. Peter, at the place where he is buried. He will be your witness and judge.”

-

With a deep inhale, Jimin lets the cloaking spell encase him like a thin, dark veil and after releasing his breath, he finally takes his first steps upwards towards the basilica. The closer he gets, the heavier his feet seems to feel as if a weight is pushing down on him but he persists until he reaches the tall iron gate of the entrance. If he cranes his neck, he can just make out the relief of St. Peter being handed the keys by Jesus carved into the stone, below the central window where no doubt the pope had made his appearance to the masses. For the first time in his life, Jimin feels immensely smaller as he stands in-between the columns, their height seemingly never-ending as if they are reaching heaven itself.

He vehemently tears his gaze away, teeth chewing at his bottom lip as he works to loosen his muscles that have gone tense. It’s like his own body has developed a mind of its own and is screaming at him to leave, get away. But he pushes those warnings aside and within a few strides, he finds himself passing the threshold and into the atrium. Even though it’s only the entrance hall, he can already feel the grandeur of the basilica from its high dome ceilings and archways. Within this singular space, it embodies the old and new in its walls as ancient inscriptions and plaques commemorating popes who had seen the construction of this holy building and in the fine marble floor as coat of arms. To the right at the end of the portico, is the statue of Emperor Constantine and to the left is Charlemagne, both on noble steeds carved out of white marble that seem like they’ll come to life at any moment.

Jimin’s jaw clench and unclenches, a nervous tick as he surveys his surroundings and with a sweep of his dark eyes, they land on a pair of bronze double doors.

-

“When you enter the atrium, you will find five bronze doors; The Door of Death, The Door of Good and Evil, The Door of the Sacraments, The Central Door, and The Holy Door. You must past through ‘The Holy Door’ to evoke the passage from sin to grace — to show your willingness to make peace with God, restore what has been damaged in yourself and reshape your heart.”

-

It’s not hard to figure out which door Jungkook was referring to. As he stops just before them, Jimin can see the pictures in each panel along the length of it, depicting various scenes of man’s sin and his redemption through God’s mercy. His eyes trail from the infamous disobedience of Adam and Eve to Christ’s Baptism in the Jordan. They linger on The Need for Forgiveness for a while longer than he intended.

Just how forgiving can God be? Jimin wonders.

For all the times he’s heard angels preach about His benevolence, can God extend that mercy to even a demon?

Well, Jimin huffs a quiet laugh under his breath, God had forgiven man after all and he thinks that’s a bit of a stretch.

The door is normally bricked up, opened once every twenty-five years to celebrate the Holy Year but it will prove to be no issue for Jimin. It’s not a matter of how he’s going to pass through the doorway, more so it’s what will happen when he does.

-

Jimin sees Jungkook’s lips quirk up in the slightest and he gets the feeling that the grimace he’s trying to hold back still showed on his face.

“I’m telling you now brother, this is the easiest part of the process and even then, I can’t tell you what will happen when you pass through those doors.”

“So am I supposed to feel enlightened then?”

“More like I actually don’t know. When you’re a blank slate being indoctrinated into this, you don’t feel anything other than the feeling of having your soul bared. But you,” Jungkook pauses to point an almost accusing finger in Jimin’s direction, “you’re a demon, so it’s either going to tickle or you’ll have your soul ripped to shreds.”

-

All he knows is that he’s willing, and that has to count for something. At least, that’s what he hopes. His thoughts unconsciously drift to you briefly, finding himself holding onto the image like a beacon of light in the darkness and with a swallow, he steps forward. Jimin doesn’t get a face full of metal, in fact, not even so much as a shockwave of resistance like he expected that for a split second, he’s bemused at how easily he passes through.

But then he feels it.

Something spears right through him, an invisible force so strong that it leaves him winded, knees nearly buckling and he all but finds himself stumbling through to the other side, right into the central nave. He forgets where he is for a moment, trying to gather his wits as he takes in deep breaths, trying to calm his thundering heart but it seems almost futile. True to Jungkook’s words, the moment he passed through those doors, something had torn away not just the cloaking spell he had placed on himself, but almost everything about his being — the glamour that he wore, the face that he stole, his magic, everything. He’s never felt so exposed but as he raises a trembling hand to his eyes, it seems nothing about him has changed.

Jimin balls his hand into a fist, hoping to lessen the tremors but when they don’t stop, he kisses his teeth, slightly perturbed. He shouldn’t complain, rather he should be thankful that he’s still in one piece. After all, he only just crossed the first hurdle. Without wanting to dawdle or waste time, he boldly begins to make his way.

The nave is a sight to behold, the space so high and open with its coloured marbles, gold trimmings and ornate detailing of heavenly imagery. No doubt in the day, the place would be filled with people from all around the world wanting to be able to bask in the awe of the architecture, built by the hands of arguably some of the greatest artists the world has ever known, that embodies all of the majesty, strength and beauty of God.

But now, devoid of any life, it is enveloped in an eerie silence that the soft footsteps of his loafers on the marble floors seem magnified, his only source of light was the moon streaming through pockets in the high domes, casting a cool blue haze on everything, making it seem all the more like Jimin had entered into a spiritual realm.

He passes by pillars with their niches filled with statues of saints who had founded religious orders and along the perimeter of the transept and above the arches, are the twenty eight figures of the Christian and human virtues, staring down at him, watching as he makes his way further into the the nave towards the place he must go. Jimin keeps to averting his gaze downward, determined to push away the incessant itch that has begun to crawl along his skin, heart still pounding like he’s ran a marathon rather than walk at a brisk pace like he is now and he fears that it will give him away in this quiet atmosphere, the sound so much more defeaning to his ears.

Sweat begins to form along his hairline and soon he finds himself short of breath. It makes him slow to almost a stop, light-headedness washing over him and he has to blink away the dark spots that appear in his vision, feeling sick to his stomach. When he looks next, it seems like the long hallway ahead of him had elongated but when he looks up, he’s actually only a few metres away from being directly under the impressive Baroque Canopy. No wonder his skin felt like it was burning from the inside while he’s getting chills at the same time.

Running a hand through his hair, he hastens once again.

-

“If, by some miracle, you find yourself inside, make your way to the end of the nave, pass the Canopy and St. Peter’s tomb, until you reach the top of the cruciform. There you will find ‘The Chapel of the Cathedra’ where you will kneel before his throne.”

“Why not his tomb?” Jimin couldn’t help but to ask. It made more sense to go see the man directly where he was supposedly buried.

“It’s symbolic because it’s a place where St. Peter had always sat, teaching and instructing the faithful of Rome. It’s only appropriate that is where you will ‘learn’ about those teachings with the guidance of the Holy Spirit.”

-

The altar, for lack of better words, is grandiose — it’s structure solely created to enclose the wooden throne of St. Peter, displaying it in a manner to show the significance and worship of the holy relic. The chair is a combination of the original acacia wood and gilded bronze done by Gian Lorenzo Bernini. It’s richly ornate with bas-relief, the base which it sat upon is made of black and white marble with four gigantic bronze statues, making the chair look as if it was suspended in golden clouds. On either sides, there are statues of saints from the Latin and Greek Church. At the crown are the gilt and stucco of Gloria with a host of angels among the rays of light and billowing clouds.

And right at the centre is a window of Bohemian glass, divided into twelve sections, representing the Twelve Apostles with a single dove against it — the symbol of the Holy Spirit, the soul of the Church.

Jimin stood, stuck at the very borders where the pews begin, overwhelmed with apprehension but shockingly, entranced as well. He would imagine the two windows situated on either side of the apse would let in brilliant streams of warm, golden light from the afternoon sun, giving the place an even more mystical look that would easily ensnare anyone into becoming a believer. Now though, with the light of the moon, it appears just as ghostly as the rest of the basilica — sombre yet still hauntingly beautiful. Jimin swallows once, running his tongue along his dry lips before he summons the strength to force his legs into motion.

They were by far the hardest steps he’d ever taken, his feet feeling like lead as he drags them one excruciating step at a time until he all but collapses onto his knees once he reaches the dark wooden prayer bench. His skin feels like it’s breaking out into hives, the itch becoming so unbearable at this point that he thinks he’ll go mad and resort to ripping away his skin himself. Every muscle in him is tense, any small movements causing them to twitch and spasm painfully and when he finally cranes his neck to look up at the altar, he hears his bones crack.

The fog in his head threatens to overwhelm him, stun him into a stupor until he can do nothing but slowly wither away into ashes. He fights to stay alert and with much effort, tries to remember Jungkook’s next words.

-

“From here, it’s pretty simple… If you can call it that.” Jungkook says a little too off-handedly, as if he was discussing how to change the battery to a remote. “You take Him into your heart and say His prayer.”

“….There are a lot of ‘prayers’.” Jimin deadpans. He may be a demon, but all demons are aware of the ridiculous amounts of prayers said in His name or in any of the other holiness, whether from being hissed out in angry fury by crossing paths with angels or in more unlucky cases, through exorcising.

Jimin’s only familiar with the sign of the cross, uttered to him by a man who couldn’t have picked a worser day to piss him off (he almost felt bad for the police who had to find him the following morning).

Jungkook flips his pretty raven locks out of his face, lazily reaching to pour himself another glass as he reclines back into his seat.

“You’ll know the one.”

-

The younger demon said he would know the prayer once he’s here but his mind is drawing blanks, unable to even begin searching for any hints. Through his hazy vision, the dove appears to have a halo of light surrounding it, pulsating as if it had life. He stares, fixated on that one point, waiting for who knows what. Just when the silence became too stifling, he hears a sound. It’s so soft that he can’t decipher it, much less if it was real or something he hallucinated in his delirious mind. It sounded like a whisper but he can’t make out any words, at least, not ones he recognizes.

It comes and goes, flowing like it’s being carried by an invisible breeze and before him, the dove seems to glow even brighter. It compels him to close his eyes and past a dry throat, he takes in a breath and from his lips, the first lines spills forth.

“Deus meus

ex toto corde poenitet me omnium meorum peccatorum…”

The words burn like a hot poker being pricked along his skin, a poison pouring from his own mouth as every line was another stabbing pain. Jimin speaks until his knuckles turn white from gripping the bench so tightly, nails digging into the wood and causing small cracks to form in the grain but still through gritted teeth, he continues the prayer faithfully.

“…. Ideo firmiter propono, adiuvante gratia Tua,

de cetero me non peccaturum peccandique occasiones proximas fugiturum.”

As he reaches the final verse, his once porcelain face is drained of any colour, marred by fissures and cracks, the flesh burnt at the edges like paper caught on fire with spidery veins snaking along the surface, revealing him for what he truly is underneath. His body shakes uncontrollably and with one last sharp inhale, he utters.

“Amen.”

-

“So I say the ‘prayer,’” Jimin reaffirms, resisting the urge to use air quotations. “And then that’s it? Done?”

Jungkook throws his head back with a laugh, his bunny teeth flashing as he tries to reel himself back in. He shakes his head, almost out of pity. Jimin doesn’t miss that, nor does he like it and his narrowing eyes prompts the younger demon to elaborate.

“You can very well be ‘done’ right on the spot, granted if you even make it that far — I’d honestly be very impressed if you do.”  Jungkook pauses to take a sip of his drink, smacking his lips a little when he swallows the dark liquid. “What’s more important is what comes after you say the prayer; if your will has yet to be broken, it will appear.”

“What will?”

“The Chalice.”

-

Jimin’s eyes, which had been shut tightly, snaps open with trepidation as they wildly scan before him. He tries to collect himself but only just as a gold shape catches his eyes. A hoarse chuckle escapes him unintentionally, the sound a mixture between disbelief and immense relief.

The chalice sits unassumingly on the ornate communion table a few steps in front of him, as if it had been there the entire time. It doesn’t shine with lustre nor is it bejewelled with any precious gems, Jimin was surprised that he had noticed it at all. But nevertheless, he’s relieved to see it there; the fruit of his labour thus far. He takes a moment to just breathe, inhaling and exhaling deeply, damp forehead pressing into the wooden prayer bench. His legs feel like stone, as if anchored down on the spot but he knows he has to eventually get up.

He’s so close.

Jimin grunts, hauling himself up on shaky arms by using the bench as leverage. He leans back heavily on it, limbs protesting as his eyes lock on the gold cup that was still there, beckoning him. He takes another minute to steady himself, running his tongue over his dry, cracked lips and once he’s sure he’s stable enough, he begins to make his way. He nearly falls over from that one step alone, arms flying back to catch himself on the prayer bench just in time. Shutting his eyes, it takes everything in him not to curse aloud, given where he is right now so Jimin settles in letting out a frustrated growl instead. Once the feeling passes, he clenches his teeth and tries again.

This time, Jimin manages, keeping his steps to a minimal with one arm clutching around his midsection as if to hold himself upright. It’s a slow process, feeling like he’s travelling at a snail’s pace but eventually, he limps his way there. When the table is within reach, his hands slams down onto the surface to brace himself, a loud bang reverberating throughout the basilica. The force of it disturbs the chalice slightly, causing it to slosh the liquid inside and spill over on the white tablecloth. Jimin recoils on instinct at the sight.

Up close, he can see the finer details of the cup; how dull and worn it actually looks as if it had been used for over centuries but despite the scratches and scuffs, it had withstood time.

But that’s not where the focus of his attention is.

-

Jungkook’s taken on a more morose demeanour, now only fiddling his half empty glass lost in his own thoughts —  or perhaps reminiscing, Jimin’s not sure. Suddenly, he breaks out into a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes as his gaze flits to meet Jimin’s.

“The Chalice will appear to only those who are deemed worthy. It is the final act you must do in order to prove your faith and commitment, to cleanse your soul and begin anew.”

A beat passes, wherein Jimin sits in turmoil with his own emotions. This entire ordeal was a lot to take in, the things Jungkook had told him sounding crazier than the last. Everything could go wrong so easily and so quickly that at some point, he questioned the validity of Jungkook’s method but shoot those doubts down when he reminds himself that not just anyone would know the particulars of this in such great detail.

“So do I baptize myself in the holy water? Get a new name and everything?” Jimin asks jokingly in an attempt to break the tension but even he hears the uncertainty straining his voice.

“You’re not going to anoint yourself with it.” Jungkook sighs, taking his glass in his hand if only to scrutinize it against the light. Then, he gestures it towards Jimin.


“You’re going to drink it.”

-

He stares unblinkingly into the pool of water inside the chalice, watching it as if at any second, he’ll see a vision within its depths. But all he sees is the faint glow of his irises reflected back at him —  two crimson drops that threaten to transform the pure water into blood.

Jungkook’s words continue to echo around in Jimin’s head, the audacity of it all never leaving.

Drink it, he says.

Of all the crazy things Jungkook had told him that night, that one takes the cake. It’s no myth that holy water to a demon is like arsenic to a human; a drop of it would greatly weaken even the strongest of demons, burning skin and bone like acid, anything more and you’ll be nothing but ashes.

So to go as far as to consume it.

A bead of sweat rolls down Jimin’s clenched jaw, a million thoughts running through his mind. A part of him admits he’s terrified of what will become of him should he choose to drink the holy water, this being the closest he’s ever been to staring death in the face. He’s lived without fear of anything for so long because he was the to be feared and even death didn’t scare him because he had nothing to lose.

Now, that’s all changed. Now, he has everything to lose.

The memories, the sounds, the scent, the warmth….

He doesn’t want to lose you.

Jimin draws in a shuddering breath, eyes slipping shut if only to escape to those feelings for a moment of reprieve. It brings a strange sense of comfort to him, a balm to his aching muscles and a moment of clarity to his hazy mind. He longs to go back to your little home, to catch just even a glimpse of your face but he’s here, a million miles away, battered, vulnerable and probably looking like every bit of vermin angels think demons are.

Yet by some miracle, he’s alive.

He’s alive when he should’ve been dead from the moment he walked through those doors.

Which means he has a chance.

Slowly, Jimin opens his eyes again, takes in his final moments and tentatively, he reaches for the cup.

-

“It’s supposed to be a painless process, which is why it’s foolproof — angels being ‘ethical’ and all that. But you’re a demon so if you die, you can’t blame me.” Jungkook disclaims, shooting back his drink and immediately begins to fill it up again. The younger had long opted to just have the bottle beside him rather than needing to wave the bartender down to ask for a refill every time. Jimin doesn’t complain as he too needed to refill constantly; he’s lost track of how many glasses he’s downed in order to swallow this hard pill the younger demon had just given him. They’re about halfway done with their second one.

“But now that you know, do you still want to go through with it?”

Jungkook’s pinned him with a hard stare, more serious than Jimin’s ever seen him but it’s with very good reasons.

He’d basically been told he has a fifty-fifty chance of killing himself in the process on three different occasions, willingly.

A humourless laugh passes through his full lips, wondering briefly if he should’ve taken his chances on the fellow he cancelled on. Then again, Jungkook’s someone he knows and trusts, so he thinks the odds are better, if only slightly. Jimin leans over and takes the bottle, pouring more liquor into his glass until it was about half full before placing it down on the bar counter.

Lifting his glass, he swirls it once and then holds it out towards Jungkook to toast.

“Then can I get an ‘amen’?”

Jungkook’s eyes widen, mouth dropping a little, completely appalled and Jimin is prepared to catch the other’s glass should it slip from his loosen grip. Thankfully, the younger demon snaps out of his shock before that happens, resting the crystal glass on the tops of his muscular thigh. Then, as Jimin’s words finally sink into him, Jungkook cocks his head, looks him dead in the eyes and says.

“You’re a crazy son of a bitch.”

Jimin can only laugh in response because he can’t disagree there before he brings the glass to his lips.

-

There’s a strong metallic taste that reaches his tongue first, one he can probably attribute to the old cup, but then comes the first sip.

The effect is immediate.

Jimin begins to choke violently, gasping and retching so hard that he doesn’t realize he’s dropped the chalice until he hears a resounding clang of metal hitting marble. The rest of its contents spews out, soaking the floor and table but he doesn’t have the mind to think if he was meant to drink everything because all he feels is the burning.

A white hot pain racks through every nerve in his body as if he’s being incinerated from the inside out. It makes him keel over, clawing at his throat until they leave deep red marks in their wake and a guttural, agonizing scream finally tears past his clenched teeth. Jimin writhes and convulses, eyes screwing shut and trying desperately to drown out this torture but his limbs feel like they’re being torn apart and his head is about to split open. He’s so out of his mind that above his own sounds of torment, the ringing in his ears begin to sound more like the notes of an organ being played.

He doesn't know how long he lays there, slowly suffocating to death but he can’t stand this any longer. With wild abandon, Jimin’s eyes shoot open, searching for something, anything, anyone, only to meet the serene gazes of the numerous saints and heavenly hosts painted into the stucco ceiling.

Please. He cries, pleads, begs.

Make it stop.

He feels his body seize before all strength leaves him, his hands falling limp to his side and his vision blurs until they can no longer see past the inky black tears that begin to stream from his eyes.

Everything falls silent.

And then he feels nothing.