#this man destroyed my brain then he continues to destroy it daily

[bittwitchy]

Sebastian Stan as Jefferson

[persefolli]

𝐅𝐥𝐚𝐰𝐬 𝐍 𝐀𝐥𝐥

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐇𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞/𝐀𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐫 𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐯𝐮𝐥𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭/𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭, 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐲

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @myheartfollower, @laylasbunbunny, @destinyl, @deadgirl02

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Months ago, you witnessed a na’vi man  jump off a cliff into the river below to escape a Thanator. Something told you to help him, maybe Eywa. You found out it was just another avatar sent from the sky people, so you left as fast as you saved him. But he followed you. He followed you and kept nagging you against your wishes. You were glad he did, because if not the two of you wouldn’t be lovers.  

He finally told you the truth after the Tree of Voices was bulldozed. The two of you fell asleep, next thing you knew you were pulling his hefty body over thick branches. Mere inches from the sharp blades of the machinery that was destroying your home.

“Jake!” You sobbed into your hands when the two of you made it to safety. “Why didn’t you wake up!’ Jake had his arms outstretched, trying to pull you into him. “I couldn’t-” You showed him your reddening hands from pulling tightly on the bands that wrapped his body. “I almost let go. I wasn’t strong enough.” You cried, thinking of how close you were to losing him, and how it would’ve been your fault if he got caught between the blades.

“It was me. It was my fault.” He cooed. “I wasn’t here and i’m sorry.” He apologized.

After stroking your biceps he was finally able to calm you down, only hearing an occasional sniffle. “It’s like a brain thing.” He started. “When I go to sleep in this body, I go to my other body.”

“Your human body?”

“Yes.” 

“And when you come to this body, you leave your other one?”

“S’mthin like that.”

You wiped the residue of tears from your eyes and smiled. “As cool as that is, I can’t risk that happening again.” You looked at him sternly. He nodded in agreement, feeling pretty shaken up himself from the whole ordeal. “Why don’t we keep your body closer to your human one in case?” You suggested.

“I- no I don't think that's a good idea.” He immediately responded. You noticed the flash of panic in his eyes as he shot the idea down. “Just a midway point. Between our home and yours.”

Jake plastered a false smile on his face, “A midway point. And for our safety, you won’t cross that midway point.”

“Jake, you can’t ban me from a certain part of the forest.” You frowned. 

‘No baby, it's not like that.” He grabbed your face. “We just have so many trackers at the station, I don’t want anyone seeing you there with us.” Something in your gut told him to question him further, but in the moment what he was saying made sense. You smiled and nodded, leaning in to lock your lips with his. 

Later that day the two of you found a nice spot in the trees, that was safe enough to build somewhat of a shelter for the two of you. It was nice seeing Jake put so much work into your temporary “home”. It made you excited for the future, when the two of you would have the proper space needed to start a family. 

Daily, you two would fall asleep together, and the longer you did this, the more you felt that he actually left you in the night. You often stayed up, watching his unconscious body, secretly wanting him to wake up from the poking and prodding you subjected him to. Sometimes, he would be gone for hours in the day, so you often went out to collect food for when he got back. 

This continued until one day, you were paid a visit from two familiar scientists. Jake had been sleeping for two days now, so the visit couldn't be a good sign.

“Grace! Norm!” You hopped down from the high branch and met them on the forest ground. “What's going on?” You looked between them.

“Well…Jake hasn’t been taking care of himself…” Grace started. 

‘We’re not letting him reconnect until his real body is in good condition again.” Norm blurted. Grace looked at him annoyed, but sighed. “Jake has gotten too skinny, and he's extremely dehydrated. We love his enthusiasm, but at the end of the day he’s still human.”

He’s still human.

You palmed your face, completely forgetting that he still had his own obligations back with the Sky People. 

“You can visit if you like.” Grace perked up. You smiled and nodded. “Of course I will. Do you think he’ll like that?”

“He won’t stop talking about you.” Norm grumbled. Grace nudged his shoulder. “Of course he’ll love it.” She said.

The two scientists departed as it got darker, and you headed back to Jake’s avatar body. Tidying him up just a little and making sure his body was up to par when he got back.

Morning came and you made your way towards the station, bearing gifts. Necklace for grace, a fan lizard for Norm, and Jake would get his as soon as he woke up….in his avatar. You peeked through the trees, and saw the station sitting in an empty section of the forest. In the window of the station, you saw a flash of orange hair. “Grace!” You exclaimed. You began walking over, coming closer to the window that separated you from them. In the back you were able to see Norm, looking in a book or something. Then you saw a man in a wheelchair, facing away from the window.

“Ma Jake?!” You knocked on the glass. The man snapped his head around, and immediately spread a shocked look all over his face. He was a little, skinny, white man, with a buzzcut. You excitedly waved, and made a heart shape with your hands, but he quickly looked away, and rolled himself to another part of the station where you couldn’t see. Grace waved you back, signaling that he was going back to his avatar body. 

You sprinted towards your shared shelter and arrived right as Jake was hopping down from the trees

. “Jake!” You said excitedly. But he looked at you hurt, almost betrayed.

“I told you to never go over there!”

“Jake I-”

“NEVER!” He snapped. Your ears flattened, and you flinched back at his sudden burst of anger. He had a sorry look in his eyes, but sighed and walked off. 

“J-Jake!” You softly said, pathetically walking behind him. “I-I did your hair, and made you food.” You said, hoping that he would notice the amount of effort you put into caring for him when he was away, but he kept silent. “Talk to me.” You whined, tripping over a branch in the process. He stopped in his tracks, immediately moving to pick you up by the armpits.  “Not here.” He grabbed your hand and led you through the forest, stepping over flowers and marsh  to end up at a river bank.

You sat criss cross on the ground, reaching your hand out so Jake could sit across from you. “Now talk. Don't yell at me.”

“I'm sorry.” He apologized. “I just…wanted to do everything I could to stop you from seeing me like that.”

“Like what?!”

“Weak. Small. Human.” He shook his head. “I didn't want you to…..see me and leave me…” You learned forward and grabbed his face. “I would never Jake. I love you, flaws and all.” He tilted his head and you now saw the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes. Jake wasn't a crier, so this alarmed you. “I can't walk.” He choked out. “I can't even clean myself properly Y/n.” You stroked his cheek as he stumbled over his words. “I was in the military, and….I fucked up,  I don't know how but I fucked up, and next thing you know I was shot in my spine.” He motioned towards his back. “I lost all feeling from my waist down. I can't move.” He shook his head.  “I was immediately sent home. Then I wasted my days in bars causing trouble because I was so angry. At myself.” He hissed. “I was such an embarrassment.”

Jake took in a deep breath and leaned in, pressing his forehead against yours. “Then I got here, got this body, and everything changed. I fell in love with the forest,  fell in love with you.” He said silently. You smiled brightly, and let out a soft chuckle. “I fell in love with you too ma Jake.”

“Life has gotten so much better, here with you…I just want to forget about the pathetic life I lived before.”

“Don’t say that.” You scolded. “Everything that has happened brought you to me. You wouldn’t be the man you are if it weren’t for the life you lived.” You reassured him. He nodded in agreement, and hesitantly leaned into you. You accepted his kiss, grabbing hold of his back to pull him closer. He maneuvered and got you down flat on the ground, deepening the kiss. “Can I see you?” You mumbled into his lips.”

“What?” He pulled away. 

“I want to see you.” You heaved. “Please? I'm gonna prove to you that all I care about,” You pressed your hand to his chest. “Is this.” You balled your hand into a fist and knocked softly on his head. “And this.”

Jake softly smiled and agreed, leading you back to the station where Grace and Norm greeted you. Suddenly, Jake fell to the ground. “Jake!” You ran to his aid, but then turned to look at the station, realizing he was coming. You watched Grace move around the station, then place a mask on her face.

You watched with your eyebrows raised as the doors to the station began to open.

You cooed softly, watching Jake roll himself down the ramp and into the patch of grass that idly sat in front of the station. Your tail swang back and forth as you approached him, sitting to match his height.

“This is me.” Jake held his arms out. You reached out to touch him, poking his cheek with your index finger. “You're so cute.” You gushed. Jake's face dropped and he rolled his eyes. “I am a man, not cute.”

“Oh ma Jake.” You reached your hands out, allowing his smaller ones to graze your palms. You looked down and noticed his legs that were rid of muscle mass. He followed your eyes with his own as you inspected every inch of him. “You are still my strong warrior.” 

“You're just saying that.”

“Am not! If I were human and saw you, I would do everything in my power to mate with you.” Jake scoffed and began laughing, for real this time. “I'm serious!”

Jake smiled and placed his hand atop yours. “I love you girl.”

“I love you more Ma Jake.”

[achelouise]

To you, My Lady

fandom: hsr

pairing: gallagher/FEM!reader

warnings: SPOILERS FOR 2.2 AND WRITTEN BEFORE 2.3

a/n: this may be the weirdest and most far-fetched I've ever written in terms of character interpretation, but I just needed to get something out of my system after playing 2.2, I cried like a little bitch

“You’re a History Fictionologist.”

Gallagher doesn’t respond. He should’ve known. You’ve always been too perceptive, no matter how much you mask yourself as a mess.

He doesn’t turn around. He doesn’t have to; he knows the crease in your eyebrows, the raging hurt that is locked behind your frowning lips, tears prickling from the corners of your eyes. He has memorized it by heart, when he had broken your heart on several occasions.

He warned you. He had shut you down when you presented him with a bouquet of flowers, he left you to pack up your date meal on more times he can count, and barked out a condescending laugh every time you show him something you created.

And yet, you stayed. You tried to make this one-sided relationship work, and Gallagher doesn’t understand why. He also doesn’t understand why he didn’t straight-up push you away.

“Finally worked that brain of yours?” he snorts, “‘Bout time.”

Gallagher- he is merely a creation born from another pair of hands. He is a toy, a pawn, with a singular ambition; to make sure The Order never crafts their perfect world, a predetermined disaster.

Perhaps he is the creator. Perhaps he is the creation. He is a branch of the History Fictionologist.

A lie ceases to exist when the truth comes to light. His death is gradual, but he feels the instantaneous switch. The soft pull of the abyss, gently taking a part of carefully-mended facade. It won’t be so kind when the final hour comes. He’s sure you know, too.

This is expected, though. He has a meeting with Sunday later, and he will take him to Dreamflux Reef. There, he will bid the people he barely knew goodbye, and he will leave a single hound to watch over the old man.

He will have played his part.

Why did he delude you into thinking you two had a future together?

“Well.” You are clearly trying to hold back tears. The pathetic display wants to make him laugh. He doesn’t. He still doesn’t turn around. “This is it, then?”

Gallagher polished a glass. “There was never ‘this’, hun.”

“But I’ve seen the way you look at me.” you insist, “You aren’t as emotionally detached as you think you are.”

He pours in High Stakes, and plays around with the drink in the glass. “I didn’t think you were this dumb, love. You deluded yourself into thinkin’ we were something more. We’re not. To me, you’re as important as a passerby in this dreamscape.”

“Then why did you stay?” Your voice cracks. “Why didn’t you push me away?”

He drops in a dash of classic SoulGlad. “Hm. Maybe because you looked too pathetic. I dunno. I don’t feel much of anything.”

“And why are you leaving now?”

You sounded far too heartbroken, beyond the stricken looks you give him on a daily basis.

“‘Cuz you realized my identity. In a day or two, my form will be destroyed. I’ll continue exploring the cosmos in another body.” He squeezes in a Hanu sticker. It looks adorable. It reminds him of the smile you gave him the first day you met.

He still doesn’t turn around. “Darling, you have to realize you’ve been loving a dead man. I don’t know what it is about police officers and bartenders that make you hot’n bothered, but don’t run into another one.”

As he mixes his drink, there is only silence. He half-expects you to leave in a huff, but he knows better. You have never left in the long time you’ve known each other.

“... Then, if all my romantic gestures meant nothing to you,” you say, tenderly and still brimming with a love that annoys him, “Can I get one more kiss?”

“On the cheek.” He says coldly, putting down the drink on the counter. “And only because I’m basically dying.”

He closes his eyes as you turn him around. He hears a quiet hum, still sad and carrying grief, before he feels a soft brush of lips on his cheek. His hands cling to your waist, before they let go.

“Thank you.” you say, “And I’m sorry.”

He opens his eyes. Your smile is fragile and hopeless, but it carries a tinge of warmth, one that makes him close them again, because if he stares longer, something in his carefully-crafted heart may actually want to stay in this dingy apartment.

Will you go chase another man, when all is said and done? Will you marry him? Will he protect you and treasure you? Will he leave you, just as he did?

“Sure.” he answers, sliding the drink into your hands as he backs away.

He opens the apartment door, and doesn’t spare another glance. If he does, he may actually fear.

Before he leaves completely, he stops. “To you,” he murmurs, knowing you will hold onto his every word, “With this glass of ‘Farewell, My Lovely’.”

Leave. Don’t be delusional. Leave.

Hm. Perhaps he was the one deluding himself.

“To unfinished business.”

He shuts the door, and basks in the soft artificial moonlight.

He hears you wail.

He can only hope this is what Mikhail would have wanted.

[hirukochan]

Ambushed

A Severus SnapexFem!Reader Oneshot

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Pairing: Severus Snape x former student reader

Summary: After your former Professor murdered Albus Dumbledore a few weeks after your one-nightstand you never expected to see him again.

Warnings: Smut, catcalling, blood, injury

Wordcount: 5000

Read on Ao3 or below the cut

Life has become significantly darker since the death of Albus Dumbledore. You hear rumours of the Ministry falling, about Death Eaters taking over and You-Know-Who rising. From the perspective of the public all that hasn’t happened. Everybody can feel the change and taste the misery hanging in the air between abandoned and destroyed shops in Diagon Alley.

The rich fuck you work for is paying you extra because you decided to stay. You aren’t going to let yourself be scared into running away! 

You started evening courses at a small university in Aberdeen a few months ago. Enchanted Art. For what? Hell if you know, but art sounded good. You however aren’t…good. Not at all, but it’s fun. You enrolled a few days after what you now call ‘the worst mistake of your life’. 

Severus Snape.

Death Eater.

Murderer.

Newly appointed headmaster of Hogwarts.

And you fucked him. Just three weeks before he killed Albus Dumbledore, a man who trusted him. 

The Daily Prophet and the Ministry are framing Harry Potter for it. There is a large manhunt going on with a bounty on Potter’s head. The boy has disappeared from the face of the earth. 

You saw him at the funeral in Hogwarts. Many former students came to say their goodbyes to Dumbledore. You went out of shame and guilt. It doesn’t make any sense for you to feel like that. Neither did you know what Snape was planning nor did you support him in any way. And yet, just knowing you had that man in your bed is eating at you.

You sway and stumble but can catch yourself on the side of an abandoned building. Death Eaters have been attacking Diagon Alley for months, even before You-Know-Who came to power, but never your shop. You guess it’s because a second-hand bookshop is absolutely useless. You don’t even have many customers! The shop is not profitable whatsoever.

You rub your eyes and push yourself off the wall to continue your less than straight way back to your flat. You’ve been drinking with the Weasley twins who run the joke shop a few streets away from yours. They are one of the few shops still open like you. They were three years under you and always good for a laugh though you were never friends with them. Now out of school and in the same boat you get along well.

And drinking alone is pathetic.

You are pathetic, but not that pathetic. 

Not yet.

You squeeze through an alley. Just another corner and you’d be there. You’re too drunk to apparate and apparition can suck it anyway.

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing out all alone?” A male voice calls out to you. You ignore it. You are really not in the mood to be accosted now and your wand might just slip.

You grip it tighter in your pocket. One could not be careful enough these days. Perhaps you should have taken Georges’ offer of walking you home.

“I’m talking to you!” He sounds angry now. Just fuck off. Just turn around and fuck off or better come here and give me something to let my aggressions out on. “Stuck up cunt!” You are whirled around by your shoulder and thrown against a wall. The air is pressed out of your lungs and your back aches. 

The blurry face of a sleazy looking man comes into view but in the next second he’s gone. You blink. Your alcohol drenched brain needs some time to catch up. Then a scream rips through the night and you recoil. Everything in you screams to run. To turn around and take off, to save yourself, but your eyes are glued to the man on the ground, writhing and screaming, his body shaken by endless, never-ending agony. 

Steps echo through the night and your head snaps up. A tall, dark figure moves towards you. Black robes, dark hair- for a second you think it’s Snape and you don’t know how to feel at that and even less how to deal with the sting of treacherous disappointment when you notice he’s too slim and too short to be Snape. 

Moonlight reflects off a silver mask. You grip your wand tighter, terrified of what’s going to happen next. 

A Death Eater.

A real fucking Death Eater right in front of you! And you’re still not running. Why the fuck are you not running?

“Tsk tsk tsk.” He clicks his tongue and shakes his hand. The man’s screams have stopped, replaced by a strangled, gurgling sound that somehow sounds so much worse. Your blood freezes in your veins and you start shivering. This is it. This is how you die. Drunk and on your way home. Just a street away! Away from safety, though you suspect that it’s a false feeling. A lie.

There is no safety left in Britain.

“Has your mummy never taught you, you mustn’t touch what isn’t yours?” He shakes his head and clicks his tongue again. A green light illuminates the alley. It paints grotesque shadows onto the silver mask and the wall behind him.

You scream. Shock and pain are ripping the sound out of the wall of your throat and haul it into the night. You cover your mouth with your hands. Tears sting in your eyes. You don’t want to die here.

Your heart pounds in your chest, strong and fast, declaring it has many good years still left, refusing to back down but also trapped by a rich net, woven from terror and dread.

“You shouldn’t be out so late.” The Death Eater says. His voice is slightly muffled by the mask, but he sounds young. So terribly young. Perhaps around the twins’ age? Did he go to school with you? You don’t recognise his voice, but you are in shock. Right? Yes, shock. He just killed someone! Like it’s nothing! To think you might have sat next to him in the Great Hall or the library…

“It’s not safe. Best run along now.”

You blink. Confused. He is letting you go? Why would he let you go? He rips his sleeve up, revealing a jet-black tattoo on his underarm, one that you’ve never seen before but recognise regardless.

“That’s a fucking order!” You flinch. And then you’re running. Running down the street and not stopping until you’ve reached the door to your flat. Your fingers tremble so much you struggle to get the key into the keyhole. You use every single protection charm you know on the door after you’ve closed behind yourself. You’ve gotten good at casting them. You had to.

“What the fuck.” You whisper to yourself, back leaned against the wall and wand clutched to your chest. “What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck!” A Death Eater just fucking let you go! He tortured someone for attempting to assault you and then killed him. 

He fucking killed him.

You watched someone die. 

What the fuck.

Oh Merlin and Grímhildr and god and Jesus fucking Christ!

‘Mustn’t touch what isn’t yours’ What does that mean? You’re not some object to be owned!

“Maybe he has a crush on me?” You think out loud. Yeah…maybe that guy really did use to go to school with you? Maybe he- you have no idea but what other reason would there be? Would a Death Eater disapprove of assaulting women? Somehow you find that hard to believe.

The incident does not leave your mind. You become paranoid. Always checking your steps and looking around for that glimmer of light catching on a silver mask. Often you’d look out of your windows, watching the empty street but you don’t see the young Death Eater again. You expect him to come back any day to finish you off

One day you arrive at the Leaky Cauldron after your evening classes tired and hungry. It’s a little after ten and you decide to eat in the pub instead of cooking. An hour later you step outside and apparate onto the steps in front of the door to your flat. You secure the door with your usual spells and kick off your shoes before hurrying up the stairs. You want nothing more than to collapse into your bed-

Something isn’t right. It’s the faintest difference. A smell that is not quite right. A whisper of magic in the air that does not belong to you. The small hairs on your nape stand and your stomach clenches. You grip your wand tighter.

There is something on your floor. A large black something.

“What the fuck?” You mutter and drop your hand to your side. “What the fuck? No no no- get the fuck up, Snape!” He doesn’t move. He is lying face down in a puddle of blood in the middle of your flat. Where did he come from? How did he get in? Why is he here?

You kick him. 

It sounds like a logical choice in your head.

He doesn’t move.

“I have a Death Eater in my flat, on my floor. I have a dying Death Eater on my floor!” You panic. You are panicking. You kick him again. Nothing changes. “Shit shit shit!” You could just…kick him down the stairs and lock the door? How did he get in here?!

“Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck-” What do you do? What can you do? Why is he here? 

For lack of a better plan, you kick him again, but despite how gratifying it feels to let your aggression out on him you have to come up with a better idea. You can’t just keep kicking him!

Wary of the Death Eater on your floor you kneel down and press two fingers to the pulse point on his neck, ready to jump backwards at any point. His skin is burning up. What happened? 

You can’t just kick him down the stairs. It’s tempting. He’d deserve it- but that isn’t you. Besides it would take the Death Eaters not even two seconds to figure out who left him there to die and they might come back to hurt you.

You heave him into your bed and peel the blood-soaked clothes from his chest. There is a deep gash across his side. Blood steadily runs down his pale skin. What happened to him?

“He’s a Death Eater that’s what fucking happened to him.” You scold yourself. “And you are fucking helping him- fuck! Why did you choose my flat to die in, Snape?!” You flick your wand at him, and his own wand comes flying through the air, landing in your hand. You shove it into your pocket.

Snape looks like shit. He’s thinner than a few months ago, his skin paler and dark, deep shadows have seemingly permanently attached themselves to the skin under his eyes.

The glorious Death Eater that defeated Albus Dumbledore. 

You scoff.

“Good- that is that…disarming the Death Eater that is twice your size and can probably do wandless magic…or simply snatch them back from you because let’s be honest here - we aren’t a fighter!” You have no idea who you are talking to, but you feel hysteric and talking to oneself is what hysteric people do. Right? Right?

“Please don’t die here and start haunting me!”

“I’m not dying.” Snape grunts and you scream. 

“Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck- you scared the living shit out of me! What the fuck are you doing here?” Without bothering to answer you, he examines the wound on his side. He grimaces. 

“I advise you against attempting that.” The deep, velvety rumble of voice makes you shudder in all the wrong ways. You keep your wand trained on him anyway.

“Get the fuck out of my flat!” You hiss, raising your wand higher, keeping it aimed at him.

“So hostile.” He tuts. “Did I leave you unsatisfied last time?” 

“You’re a murderer!” Your voice is shaking, tears pool in your eyes and you have no fucking idea why you feel betrayed. You hadn’t spoken to Snape in five years before your one-night stand. But had you known…had you known he is a Death Eater you would have never let him into your bed.

“Yes.” Snape says and he somehow sounds bitter. What right has he to be bitter? “I heard you ran into some…trouble.” You shove your wand in his face and perhaps he sees in your eyes how serious you are, a faint promise of hexing him or something else, but he raises his bloodied hands slightly as if to tell you he isn’t a danger.

“Do you have a first-aid-kit? So I can get out of your hair.” You look at him, considering. You could make him leave. “I’m not a danger to you.” To you. To others, yes, but not you. You have no idea how to feel about that thinly veiled confession. You flick your wand towards your bathroom. Snape rummages through your first-aid-kit.

“Who the fuck doesn’t stock dittany?” He asks, glaring up at you while aggressively opening the fuckton of buttons on his robes. Who needs so many buttons?

“Why would I have fucking dittany? Sorry I did not expect you would choose my home to almost fucking die in!”

“I wouldn’t have died!” He sneers.

“Tell that to the puddle of blood on my floor. Why are you here?” He hesitates. His shoulders droop and he stops messing with his clothes. Something profoundly vulnerable flashes through his eyes.

“Where else would I go?” And that is that apparently. He peels back layers of blood-soaked clothes, and you try not to ogle him. He hadn’t taken off much of his clothes when he fucked you… 

The moonlight hides the currently sickish undertones of his pale skin, making him look like one of those marble statues you’ve seen in a muggle museum once. His skin is littered with scars, a visual reminder that this man is a Death Eater - a fact your body is more than willing to ignore judging by the uncomfortable, damp spot in your knickers. 

You watch him patch himself up from a safe distance, your wand pointed at him at all times. His fingers tremble, his skin is chalky pale and beads of sweat cling to his forehead, but his movements are precise and purposeful.

And yet-

You have never seen him like this.

Small somehow.

Vulnerable.

“I was told you were assaulted.” His voice is quiet, he usually speaks soft and quiet - a man like he never has any trouble getting a classroom full of hormonal teenagers to shut it. But today it’s different. There is something…inherently broken about the way he says the words and it gives you pause.

“So what? You decided to break in? Who do you think you are that you get to check up on me?” You spit the words at him because if you don’t, you might do other things and you really can’t afford that.

“That wasn’t-” He inhales sharply and impossibly enough pales even more. You summon a glass of water. “Thank you.” He whispers and downs the whole thing in one go.

“Wouldn’t want your cult friends to show up here because I let you die.”

“You should be careful what you say.” He doesn’t say it as a threat. He says it softly, with dread mixing into his worry.

“I thought you weren't a danger to me.”

“Plenty of people are.”

“Right…then. You know where the door is.” You nod towards it. Snape rises to his feet - far more graceful and steady than he has any right to with how shit he looks. He comes closer and you bite the inside of your cheek to resist the urge of stepping back. He comes closer still, his much larger frame hovering above you and any sliver of thinking Snape is small evaporates into thin air.

His silky hair falls into his face and hides it in the shadows of your flat, with only the moon illuminating the small space.

You take a shaky breath and attempt to ignore the heat between your bodies or the way your heart beats all wrong. His eyes have an intensity to them that makes you shudder and involuntarily recall how his hands felt on you…his breath dancing across your skin…the way he tastes-

“You still have my wand.” He says, his voice impossibly deeper and smokey and his eyes- these damn stunning stupid eyes that burn into yours, whispering promises of things you can’t even begin to wrap your mind around. 

You automatically close your fingers tighter around your own wand. He is so close now the tip of it digs into his chest. He doesn’t even flinch. Like the threat of a curse does not even affect him, like he doesn’t give a shit that you could simply kill him right now or perhaps it’s arrogance. He believes you incapable of it - which is the truth but still! Is it asking too much to want him to be at least a little afraid? 

Snape reaches out and his hand brushes over your side and you inhale sharply.

There must have been a lapse in the fabric of time - in the universe itself because suddenly you are kissing. You don’t know why or how but the wands clatter to the ground and Snape’s hands are on you and your body scream fuck the universe because this feels right.

Snape’s arms wrap around your smaller form and press you to his chest and you let him, weaving your hands into his hair while he claims your mouth with a feral hunger. You moan into the kiss and lean into his touch and try to smother the whisper in your head repeating the last two words you’d want to hear right now over and over.

Death Eater

You slide your tongue over his. There is a faint taste of iron in the kiss but it doesn’t matter. Snape’s fingers dig into your flesh like he is trying to devise a way to never have to let you go again.

He clings to you like a dying man to life.

Death Eater

He stumbles backwards and takes you with him, plopping down on the bed and pulling you into his lap. It feels natural. Your bodies fit together like two puzzle pieces and something somewhere in the universe just clicks.

You run your hands down his neck and over his shoulder, noting how much thinner he feels now compared to last time. You shove his frock and dress shirt down his shoulders. The feeling of his naked skin against your hands feels electrifying. A buzzing prickle seeping into your body through the pad of your fingers and spreading throughout your very being like blazing wildfire, pooling deep in your belly.

Death Eater

You moan into the kiss and grind against Snape, feeling his hard cock against your core through your knickers.

Death Eater

Two pairs of hands drop to his fly at one, frantically fumbling with buttons and stumbling over each other. Snape retreats and returns to thoroughly groping your arse under your skirt. You manage to free his cock and Snape helps lift your hips. You push your soaked knickers away and align his cock with your entrance.

“Fuck I forgot how big you are-” You hiss at the stretch. Snape kisses your neck and nibbles on your collarbone.

“Have you been with someone since-?” He leaves the question open. Further specifications aren’t needed. You are still slowly lowering yourself on his prick, until the delicious kind of stretch turns to a stinging stretch where you pause to give yourself time to adjust.

“-no.” You pant. Snape groans against your sternum and wraps his arms around you again, pulling you close. He kisses down your chest and over your breasts. Nuzzling you through the fabric of your blouse.

“Fucking hell-” You mutter once he is finally sheathed inside you. You’re out of breath and sweaty and so so full. His cock is throbbing against your inner walls, hot and thick and you need a moment to collect yourself.

“So good.” Snape groans and continues peppering kisses over your chest. You whimper in response. “You take my cock so fucking good-” He rips your blouse open and shoves your bra up, locking his lips around your nipple instantly. You moan and cling to his shoulders. Snape licks broad strokes over your nipple, alternates between sucking and kissing and grazing you with his teeth. 

His lust-drenched sounds make you squirm in his arms and arousal leak over his cock, soiling his trousers. 

It takes a little moment for you to get a hang of how to move on top of him, but once you’ve figured it out, you earn approving groans from Snape.

“Fucking missed you.” He murmurs against your skin.

“Did you now?” You raise a brow.

“I’m talking to your tits, dear.”

“You have issues.” You moan and sink back down on his cock.

“I thought we had already established that.”

“Yeah, when you decided my floor was the proper place to die!”

“Wouldn’t have died.” He groans and locks his lips around your nipple again. You cradle his head with your arms and rest your cheek against the crow of his head while bobbing up and down his length in an unsteady, unrefined rhythm.

Snape doesn’t seem to care.

And neither do you really.

The voice in your head shut up a while ago and you bid farewell to it, telling it to never come back.

Snape inhales sharply and you stop instantly.

“Did I hurt you?” You ask, unable to keep the worry out of your voice. Snape’s face is contorted in pain. He reaches for the footboard of your bed and his knuckles turn white under the force with which he holds onto it.

“Lie down.” You murmur and push against his shoulders gently. Snape looks at you both irritated and untrusting, but he eventually (less than gracefully) lowers his back onto the mattress.

You reposition yourself above him and lean back to brace your hands against his thighs right above his knees. Slowly you begin moving again. It feels awkward for a while but then you find the right angle and Snape presses his fingers against your clit, stroking tender circles over the throbbing bundle of nerves and pleasure overshadows any feeling of awkwardness.

“You’ve always been a fast learner.” Snape groans. “Such a studious girl.”

“When the subject interests me.” You chuckle and the corner of his mouth twitches.

“Am I an interesting subject?”

“Hmm…Certainly one I can’t seem to escape.” You raise your hips and sink back down, moaning in tune with the delicious stretch of his girth.

“Do you plan on almost dying on my floor in the future?”

Snape laughs, an uneasy sound accompanied by a concerning rattling sound coming from his lungs. “Are you planning on stocking Dittany in the future?”

“Nah, but I was thinking about getting a runner and- ow!” He slaps your thigh, not hard, but a pleasant sting runs through your flesh and the sudden slapping sound startled you. “Bastard.” You hiss and push yourself up, planting your hands on either side of his head, careful to avoid the dark strands of hair spread out around his head.

“Is that the thanks I get?”

“Thanks?” He hums. An expression of raw pleasure flickers over his face and it pulls you in, captures you like a fly in a sticky trap - and like a fly in a sticky trap you realise the danger you are in just by associating with Snape, not to mention by fucking him.

You never thought yourself to be a morally depraved woman but here you are, with the enemy quite literally in your bed.

An injured, weakened enemy. 

As if you’d have a chance against Severus Snape no matter how weak he is! No, leave the heroism to other people, people that value their lives less or think the world will be grateful for their heroism. 

You close your eyes and lean down to meet Snape’s lips, to get lost in the feeling of a warm body against yours, the mechanical workings of what a romance would feel like, to draw some comfort from a man that is willingly giving it to you when all other male specimens on this earth seem to not give a shit about you.

“Started University.” You murmur against his lips. Snape has put his hands on your arse and is helping your movement, pulling you and down on his cock, guiding your cunt or using it for his own pleasure or revelling in having a former student of his so messed up she lets him fuck her. 

“I heard. I’m glad.” He mutters back and takes your bottom lip between his teeth.

“Keeping taps on me?”

“Only a little.” And it’s back to kissing. Wet, heated, burning kisses. And passion or maybe erratic obsession but if obsession feels this good what does it matter?

The heat of his tongue against yours, his hands squeezing your arse, his breath dancing over your face, his cock spearing open your cunt repeatedly, it collects inside you, runs through your limbs and veins and fills your whole body. You can feel it rushing alongside your blood, feel your body respond to it by picking up the pace of your heartbeat, sweet clinging to your skin, especially on your thighs that straddle Snape’s. It floats through your body and eventually pools in your lower belly and deep inside your cunt, welcoming Snape’s prick on each thrust by splitting into two and regenerating like cell division-

Heat grows and morphs and hardens into a brooding mass that threatens to rip free of you. It scratches against your insides, searching desperately for a way out, a way to release this pressure and then Snape presses his thumb down on your clit and it rips free of you. Snape thrust up into you in one hard stroke and he groans, his grip on your arse tightening and you collapse above him and he pulls you down by putting his arms around your torso - his wound long forgotten by both of you.

His cock throbs as he spills inside you, splatters of warm, sticky cum painting your inner walls and with a content hum you rock against his softening cock to relish the last flickers of your orgasm.

Snape grunts - a pained one this time - and you push your trembling body up and lift your hips to sit down on the bed next to him. His now limp cock slips out of you and you hate that you miss the feeling of it, hate the emptiness left behind. You pull your knees to your chest and lean against the headboard of your bed, staring at the window just to not look at Snape.

“I-” Snape begins but stops himself. With another pained grunt he sits up and does the many buttons of his clothes back up. He sighs and rubs his hands over his face, raking through his hair. “I will try to not almost die on your floor again.”

“Good.” You want to sound stern, but it comes out sounding exhausted and confused.

“Good.” He murmurs. A knock on your door rips you from your thoughts. Who would knock so late? Perhaps it’s your elderly neighbour…

You pick your wand up from the floor and fix your skirt and blouse and walk towards the door.

Still caught in a whirlwind of confusing and contradicting feelings and perhaps Snape’s presence has led you to let down your guard a little, whatever it is you forget to cast your detection charms before opening the door-

Silver glimmers in the moonlight. You recognise the mask. It’s the young Death Eater that killed the man who wanted to assault you. He is flanked by two taller Death Eaters. Whatever you had wanted to say gets stuck in your throat as it swells shut. Just out of their sight you grip your wand tighter.

“Miss.” The young one says. “Apologies for the interruption.” Why the fuck is a Death Eater addressing you so polite? Movement behind you catches your attention but you don’t dare move.

“Was I not clear enough when I said this shop is not to be disturbed.” Snape drawls and all hints of pain or injury have left his voice. He looms behind you, tall and menacing and you can actually see the taller Death Eaters shrink back.

“My mistake. Again, apologies, Miss. Your presence is requested, Sir.” The younger one says to Snape.

“Do not repeat it in the future.” Snape scoffs. He ignores them and closes the door.

You can’t seem to find your voice again.

“This all will be over soon.”

“How do you know?” You whisper, uncertain what Snape means. What will be over? The resistance? You-Know-Who? His presence in your life?

“I hope you won’t have to see me again.” His lips brush your forehead ever so slightly, his fingertips dancing over your arms.

He turns to leave.

“Snape-” You don’t know what to say. His eyes linger on you for a moment, you think to see something flash in them, a hint of some deeply buried emotion but then he turns, opens the door again and he is gone.

You lean your forehead against the smooth wood. You can still feel his touch lingering-

A sob tears through the silence and you press your hand to your mouth as you sink to the floor and you don’t even know why. You kneel on the floor in front of your door and sob and cry.

When you eventually regain your composure and return to your flat you are met with the sight of drying blood…

The next day you go to the apothecary down the street and buy a bottle of Dittany.

| Part 3 |

[thezombieprostitute]

Tech Tuesday: Mike

Summary: A new intern is assigned to your department.

A/N: Mike is from Hellraiser: Hellworld. If you need an idea as to what his character is like, I highly recommend this gif set.

Warnings: Age gap (Reader is 10+years older than Mike). Power imbalance.

Part 1

Tech Tuesday Masterlist

Mike swears his brain has melted out of his ears. This meeting has gone on forever. Clearly he was being subjected to cruel and unusual punishment for a crime he hadn't committed! He'd heard from 4 or 5 different employees about all the ways they use the interface. There had been a lot of back and forth between said employees about preferences for the new layout, pretty much everyone's ideas conflicted with each other. It only reinforced Mike's belief that he should just create some sample portals of his own design and have people pick from that.

You had noticed Mike's absentmindedness early on in the meeting and made sure to take all the notes he should have been writing. He's clearly not prepared for the job but you're not going to let him get away with not giving your employees what they want. Still, he is just an intern and part of the point of an internship is learning how to do the job. So you'll grant him this kindness. What he does with that will determine whether or not you ask Pine or Syverson to remove him.

After the meeting you wait for everyone else to leave before gesturing for Mike to follow you to your office. He flops down in one of the chairs by your desk, clearly exhausted.

You chuckle, "welcome to corporate life, kid."

"That was insane," Mike begins. "The interface sucks balls, obviously, but no one can agree on how to fix it? That was basically," he pulls out his phone, "2 HOURS! That was 2 hours of people not listening to each other! What the fuck?"

You sit in your chair. "First of all, watch your language." He shrinks a little under your gaze. "Secondly, that's not an every day occurrence, at least not under my watch. There's a reason I set this aside as a project."

Mike gives you a look like a confused puppy, "you mean projects aren't the daily work?"

"They can be," you nod. "But the majority of the work my people do is day-to-day stuff. Routine. Projects, unless otherwise specified, are filler work for them. For you, however, the project will be your internship."

He startles at that. "Shi---shoot," you smile at his self-correction. "I should've taken notes. I...I'm normally good at remembering things, but I wasn't expecting...Please tell me we don't have to have another fu-- meeting like that?"

You can tell he wants to go on a very colorful rant about how painfully boring the meeting was to him. Again, you find yourself smiling softly at his frustration, remembering how you were at that age.

Handing him your notes you tell him, "it's a good thing I took notes." His joy filled eyes makes you chuckle. "But this is a one-time thing," you warn. "I expect you to take your own notes going forward. And yes, there will be other meetings." He winces at this. "We need regular updates on your progress, regular feedback from the employees you're doing this for. So you'd better get some practice at note-taking. I find it helps me when the meetings get so boring my brain wants to destroy itself rather than continue."

"That's...good advice, Boss Lady," Mike says as he takes the notebook from you.

You roll your eyes at the nickname, "just get your butt to work, young man. I expect an update from you by the end of next week."

Part 1

Tech Tuesday Masterlist

Tagging: @alicedopey; @delicatebarness; @ellethespaceunicorn; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory;

@kingliam2019; @late-to-the-party-81; @lokislady82; @ozwriterchick; @ronearoundblindly

@thecrandle

[matan4il]

Daily update post:

The IDF estimates, maybe based on a baby bottle that was found where hostages are known to have been held, in the basement of the Rantisi hospital in Gaza, that a woman who was kidnapped while pregnant, has given birth in captivity. That makes her child the youngest hostage, at the age of a few days at most.

While our kids and babies are being held hostage in dark basements and tunnels, Israel is offering Gazans medical assistance for their kids. At this link you can listen to a subtitled conversation (the article is in Hebrew, just scroll to the first embedded vid), where an IDF officer is offering the Shifa hospital manager to place at the entrance to the building 37 incubators and 4 respirators for the kids and babies. The officer also vows to the manager to help protect as much as possible the patients, wards and staff in the hospital. During the conversation, the offer is accepted, but the IDF says later it was rejected. As I can't see who would outrank the hospital manager, I'm guessing the "No" came from Hamas.

Rockets continue to be fired into Israel. Today, a rocket barrage at Tel Aviv, at a kids playground, left one person seriously wounded, and two moderately.

Thank you so much to the Israeli Nonnie who sent me this vid. Yes, that is exactly what I was talking about when I mentioned in my update yesterday, this is Hamas attacking Palestinians in order to take over this aid truck and get all of the food for themselves (the relevant footage starts 11 seconds in):

Jeremy Corbyn, the man who could have been the British Prime Minister, and who British Jews called out on antisemitism, was interviewed by Piers Morgan. He was asked 15 (arguably 16) times to answer the question whether Hamas is a terrorist group, but refused to give a reply.

I was listening to this interview with Ella Keinan (it's in Hebrew), an Israeli travel vlogger, who has started posting about the Israeli POV since Oct 8. She didn't say anything I didn't know, but I thought the way she phrased things was powerful, so allow me to translate:

They created a brand called Free Palestine, which is not actually freeing the Palestinians and giving them what they want, but under this brand it's possible to do anything nowadays, it's possible to rape, it's possible to slaughter, it's possible to kidnap, it's possible to abuse, to kill, it's possible to hurt and kill Jews in LA, it's possible to attack them at universities, and you'll still be applauded. Meaning, you'll still be popular. That's how powerful this brand is.

Meanwhile, Israel's foreign diplomacy has officially been shut down due to a lack of budget. A lot of government offices are being shut down, and their budget is being re-directed to help the evacuated, the families of the murdered, the injured, financially supporting people whose businesses have collapsed, compensating those whose homes were destroyed by Palestinian rockets. So when you hear people dismissing regular Israelis' posts as paid propaganda by the Israeli government... what a fucking joke, Israel can't even currently pay professionals in this field, let alone regular people.

This is 19 years old Noa Marziano.

Yesterday, Hamas published a vid of her as a hostage. The Israeli media refused to cooperate with the psychological warfare, no one published it. Today, the IDF was able to confirm that Noa was murdered in captivity.

This is 12 years old Liel Hetzroni.

Her mother Shira, after gaving birth to her and her twin brother, suffered brain damage, and couldn't take care of her kids, so they were raised by their grandparents. Liel's grandfather and brother's bodies were already found. Today, after having been missing for 38 days, Liel's death was also pronounced.

This is 75 years old Vivien Silver.

She was a peace activists. Among other things, she used to volunteer her time driving Gazans to medical treatments in Israel. She was thought to be kidnapped in Gaza, but today her body was identified.

May their memories be a blessing.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

[smittyw]

i forgot my dailies so heres some of the au redesigns ive been up to 🚶‍➡️🏃‍➡️🤸 return of the funnies, new and improved!! moonstone, plume agate & tigers eye!!!

lots more lore i never dropped + fusions below the cut- but this post will get long hahaa

making the post pretty for you :-) ok?

their rundown is that plume and tiger crash land on earth and team up with an already stranded moony, hoping to get back with an impressive enough report to save them from trouble. when this starts to seem less and less of a possibility, they have to face their feelings about staying on earth, and whether itd be worth it to take desperate measures just to return to a status quo they were never cut out for to begin with. theyre more or less minor villains of the week who have their own rich inner lives completely offscreen so i can claim theyre canon compliant.

moony- got retconned to be a bit of a fool jingling miserably across the court, while blue diamond pondered whether this was a good enough use for a former espionage class of gem. shes busy mostly crying about other things tho. and moonstone is too. on the first pity mission away from home they decide to sit pretty and stall until blue forgets to ask for updates, maybe forever.

plume- leader of a squadron of tigers eyes grunts (theyre a scout class, expendable and fast close range idiots without the benefit of tankiness). she's outwardly very tough on them but hides a lot of fondness for only them to see. she also hides an independent streak that fuels her history buff posturing, and is getting dangerously close to acting on her fantasy of becoming the next rose quartz.

tiger- the weak link of the squadron whos had her ass saved plenty of times by plume before. to prove shes not dead weight, she throws herself at every problem expecting to fail a few times and break a few limbs before succeeding. shes grown neurotic & wary of attention, and is liable to just go looney tunes at the slightest opportunity. if freedom calls she wont hesitate to scamper.

& hey! fusions as promised! helps to know what theyre working with dynamics-wise:

pietersite (piet)- shes very serene on the surface level while masked and doesnt speak, but underneath it kind of a terror...due to the constant dual internal monologue that gets broadcast telepathically from her out of sync brain...at least tiger doesnt mind it. theyre not very stable as a fusion due to an inherent mismatch in how their component gems communicate. it takes time before they get a handle on their combined strengths, so they dont form often.

unakite (una)- shes the worst and i love her, and she loves herself more (until she doesnt, at which point she combusts to avoid dealing with it, and both parties forget what happened). shes the manifestation of a long term work friendship & is therefore her own right hand man. her first inclination is to plot, then to destroy, then applaud herself for it. she has illusions of grandeur to become a permafusion due to her remarkable stability while formed, but has too much of a one track mind to last forever. still, shes around a lot when the situation calls for it.

chrysoprase (chryssie)- hes a delight but also sucks ass at being helpful in most situations that require more than chilling smiling and having fun. hes pretty stable but prone to long spells of isolation, and spends all his time on confusing hobbies that burn him out big time. plume finds them really frustrating and it takes her ages to stop wishing theyd just stay apart, after realizing their existence is like necessary therapy to the goobers involved.

p.s. all three gems use she/her initially as gems do, and plume continues to throughout. moony is very taken with human culture and later puts in a lot of effort to be like them, so he adopts their concept of gender and prefers he/they instead. tiger mirrors whatever she finds interesting and doesnt really care, so all her fusions default to the other party's preference

p.p.s, all the little refs in the corners of the fusion pics are outdated so pls ignore the discrepancies

i think ive said my piece for now.. if u made it this far, big thanks & feel free to take the mic, im trying to be less of a lore recluse !! this au does things to my brain.. id love to explain each of them and their little personal arcs in better detail soon, but plotty things can wait until i get the nerve to start doing comics again. CIAO!

[medicinal-doll]

Be Quiet, Doll

Title: Be quiet, doll

Vampire!Daddy!Bucky x little!reader (Featuring: Vampire!Daddy!Geralt and Vampire!Daddy!Ari)

Words》.700

Summary: You and buck are having some private little girl and daddy time.But it seems bucky isn't too bothered by getting caught.

Warnings: Dub-con/non-con, teasing,degradation,Daddy kink,exhibitionism, ddlg dynamic,dom/sub dynamic,cohersion,slight mindbreak,rough sex,p in v sex

A/N: I was gonna write some build up but this felt more natural to me

*Please don't repost without permission If you use my writing as inspiration please ask first and credit me

.....

Whimpers and moans filled the room as you rode your master. your hips clashing together in a horribly delicious way "B-Bucky No stop-" you say trying to push his chest away from you in a pitiful way. he just laughs at you before grabbing your wrists and driving his hips harder into that spot he knows makes you weak in the knees "Daddy- No! Papa's are gonna hear it!" You moan as he glares at you with devilish eyes "Maybe that's what I want baby" he tilts his head at you in a mocking way "let's be honest with ourselves here doll" " it's not the first time your daddys have heard you screaming your lungs out like A little slut in heat now is it?"

You bury your head into buckys shoulder and sob in defeat, still fighting the shameless moans that spill from your mouth "it's not like that!" "You're making me like this" you cry into his shoulder bucky lifts your head up with his gloved metal palm being suspiciously gentle

"Oh doll..." he gives you a sincere look with his hauntingly blue eyes "You were ruined the day we found you" your eyes widen at his words before he flips you over and pounds your sweet spot mercilessly with his cock till your eyes roll to the back of your skull.

......

............

"Hey Ger do you hear something upstairs?" Ari curiously questions turning his head to face the tall man casually leaning against the expensive countertop reading the daily paper as per usual "If you mean the sounds of our little girl getting her brains fucked out" "then yeah I kinda noticed that" Ari just smiles to himself and takes a slow sip of his afternoon tea "wanna go be nosy?" he says followed by A mischievous smirk. geralt suddenly loses all interest in today's article tossing the paper to the side then heading up the dark oakwood staircase with the brunette following close behind him.

...

"AH!- Ahn mhnm..." you cling onto the luxurious couch your nails carving noticable dent marks into it while bucky holds one of your legs into the air aiming to penetrate deeper into your soaked core, And then the door busts wide open and all the color leaves your face as you lock eyes with Ari's overjoyed expression "Well! look at what we have here !" Ari gloats honored at the erotic event his girl has so generously put on display "buck you didnt lock the fucking door!" You say shooting him an angry glare "why would I when you look so cute-" Ari interjects "Oh come on now, don't be so modest sweetheart" me and geralt just wanted to enjoy the show" He says plopping down on the very couch your getting plowed on.

You turn your pleading eyes to face geralt since he's the only one in this mansion who ever seems to have any damn sense.but you are quickly disappointed when he leans against the door frame with hungry eyes practically begging for buck to continue destroying your little princess cunt.And bucky is all too eager to grant Geralts wish.

Bucky pushes you onto all fours giving the two gentlemen the best view.His strong arm grabs A fistful of your strawberry scented hair and the other has an unshakeable grip on your ample hips.He roughly thrusts into you at a painfully slow cruel pace, hips loudly clapping together after each thrust. choked cries leave your mouth, while Ari softly caresses your tear stained cheeks kissing them every now and then while whispering encouraging words laced with fake sympathy. "Its okay you're alright honey" he kisses your forehead as buck delivers a particularly agonizing deep thrust into your tiny pussy and you yelp in a high pitched tone "your doing so good baby that's it"

He pets your head and rakes over your trembling body with demonicly dark eyes "take it like a good little girl". Your eyes start to lose focus and an adorable pout takes over your expression.

"I know it's big honey daddy knows" each thrust leaves you more susceptible to ari's cohersion and you nod your head up at him drinking in every poison sentence he says. your eyes drift back to geralt one more time and he nods at you knowingly fully aware of your condition and state of mind. And with that last look, your head finally slips and everything's all bright, warm, and fuzzy especially the tingling between your legs.

[solradguy]

GG2OMC (ENGLISH): RAVEN - THE POOL OF BLOOD’S SONNET

Word Count: 1600 Warnings: Blood/death, self harm, suicide, suicidal ideation Chapter Index & Credits Page・ Mobile Friendly Version Archive.org download page (.PDF + uncompressed art scans)

2024 Oct. 30: This is an old version of this translation and isn’t as good as the one on my Neocities: https://solradguy.neocities.org/GG2OMC%20Stories/gg2omc-index

To live is to die. From a philosophical standpoint, that may be a cliché. However, this man was truly living to die. In a way, for this man, “living” as a concept no longer had value. The daily routing that he had repeated for hundreds of years had far exceeded the limits of boredom. Recently, he had finally stopped feeling anything. What could be seen, heard, smelled, or tasted. He felt nothing equally from any stimuli he received from his five senses. However, there was one thing from which he could still enjoy fresh sensations: Pain. 

Death is a necessary condition for the fulfillment of a life. The completion of life is a necessary condition for the enjoyment of death. What, then, of immortality? Can eternal life, which the living ultimately seek, be equated with life? The man had a clear answer to this question.

For longer than anyone could know, the man had been seeking death. The pain he felt in the pursuit of reaching death was an irreplaceable pleasure that awakened within him a sense of life. This man always sought death; he always sought the pain that was as close to death as he could get, and this thirst for death was expressed in the form of several suicides. Every attempt was a failure. 

The man was resolved to die, and he had procured a way to guarantee it. A special device with an octagonal weight attached to each end of a cylinder. If he could penetrate the brain stem with it, perhaps....

Komm susser Tod! [German: Come sweet death.]

With a prayer, the man struck his own forehead with all his might… 

◆ ◆ ◆ ◆ ◆ ◆ ◆ ◆ ◆ ◆ ◆ ◆ ◆

What am I living for? 

Since the beginning of human civilization, there have been young men who have never forgotten that universal question every human born into the world has pondered at least once.

It was over a thousand years ago. Born and raised in a very average middle-class family in Germany, this young man was drafted into the army in his mid-20s and served a tour of duty in a foreign country. On a battlefield filled with the smell of blood and death, he fought hard wielding the weapons he was given, and defeated his enemies. With his excellent physical strength and physique, he attained great results in his first battle and continued to accumulate military achievements. Thanks to his successes, the expeditionary force defeated the enemy one after another and advanced deeper into the enemy's country.

However, as the war dragged on, the expeditionary force found it difficult to maintain its long supply lines. Its frontline units also became increasingly isolated. The loneliness and starvation of the battlefield made the soldiers anxious and they began to lose their composure. Military discipline became a formality, and soldiers soon began to raid enemy farming villages for food.

A little over a year into the man’s service, his unit hit a small enemy farming village in the mountains. The soldiers, who had not had comfortable beds or food for a long time, feasted and got drunk late into the night. When they had fallen asleep, the troops were attacked in the night. When the man awoke from his sleep in a room of a private house, his unit was already half destroyed and in a state of pandemonium. The clanging of bells, screams, and shouts were all one sound that rang in his ears. The enemy had surrounded his unit as part of a scorched-earth strategy, using a single village as bait.

(I have to escape!) 

Sensing danger, he reached for the armor that lay beside his bed. However, a roar sounded close by, stopping his hand. The door to the house had been kicked in. The next moment, enemy soldiers would break into this room. Understanding this, he decided to give up his armor and escape with only his sword. Being careful not to make a sound, he opened the window and let himself soar into the outside world.

Just before dawn – the eastern sky beginning to turn white. There was no match between the defenseless army and their well-prepared enemies. It would have been a one-sided slaughter. The troops had suffered catastrophic damage in a matter of minutes.

(Somehow I must find a horse.)

Taking great care not to be spotted by enemy soldiers, the man searched for a horse, ducking behind cover as he went. Soon after, he found a horse that had lost its owner and was standing around with nowhere to go. The man did not know who owned the horse, but that didn’t matter anymore. He gently approached the horse and rubbed him down. The horse was ill-tempered and seemed to be fearless. Then the man put his foot in the stirrup, jumped up with all his might, and just as he was about to step over, the horse whinnied. The sound alerted enemy soldiers and they descended upon him.

“There’s a survivor! Over here!”

“Round them up! Horses! Get the horses!”

He chose the mountain forest as his escape route, but was pursued relentlessly by the enemy and spent half an hour on the run. His horse's legs were pierced by numerous arrows, and he himself was hit by several arrows in the back.

The arrow wounds took their toll – after several miles, the horse shrieked and suddenly fell over. The man was thrown from the horse, and he flew into the air. His whole body hit the ground hard, his face contorted in pain. When he tried to stand up, the enemy had already caught up with him and he was surrounded by five soldiers.

He rose to his feet and readied his longsword. However, the sword fell out of his hand without reaching a single enemy soldier. A volley of arrows from the enemy pierced him and he fell to his knees.

Blood poured from the arrow wounds and flowed down to his feet, creating a sea of red and black on the ground. As the man gazed at the scene, he knew that his life was coming to an end and his vision gradually became narrower and darker. He had been prepared for death ever since he went to war. 

He should have had the same fear of death as anyone else but when the time came, strangely, he felt no emotion. As he was vaguely wondering if this was how he was going to die, he heard a strange sound. It was not a sound heard directly by his ears, but a sound that traveled through his body. When he realized that it was the sound of blades stabbing through his chest and into his abdomen, he was certain then that he had at last died. This was the first death he had experienced. 

◆ ◆ ◆ ◆ ◆ ◆ ◆ ◆ ◆ ◆ ◆ ◆ ◆

Where am I? Heaven, Valhalla? Am I dead?

The man was in a place unknown to him. A cylindrical space about 10 meters [32ft] in diameter. Light shone through windows set on all sides, but he could not see the world outside them. The windows were like mirrors, showing only his reflection. 

His body was floating in the air. Despite this, his sense of up and down was maintained. 

He examined his body and found no abnormalities. There were no arrow or stab wounds, which were his cause of death. 

That's right. He had been hit by arrows from enemy soldiers on the battlefield and stabbed through the chest and abdomen with swords. They were definitely mortal wounds. Unable to think clearly, the man held his head in his hands.

At that moment, the man suddenly felt as if someone was looking at him appreciatively. He was not sure how many, but more than one or two or at least. It was as if a large crowd was staring at him all at once. “Like a cage surrounding a bird of prey…” the man thought.

The gaze he felt began to hurt. The pain was like sharp thorns cutting into his hands, legs, face, abdomen, and organs; everywhere receptive to touch. The constant pain violated the man's exposed nerves without causing any external injury. It was the greatest pain a human being could feel. There were no units of measurement to accurately describe the agony that he felt at that moment. The man could not faint, could not scream. He could only writhe. 

◆ ◆ ◆ ◆ ◆ ◆ ◆ ◆ ◆ ◆ ◆ ◆ ◆

After a few minutes, the pain suddenly stopped. At the same time, he saw a familiar scene reflected in his eyes.

Was it all a dream? The ground was stained with the pool of blood that had spilled out of him, showing that what had happened to him was undeniably true. However, he was still alive. 

Did he come back to life? He didn’t think he had God’s blessing because he lacked faith. 

He checked his wounds, and they were closed. However, unlike a moment ago, the wounds themselves were not entirely gone. Faint scars remained. The wounds seemed to have healed rapidly and completely. How they had healed was beyond comprehension. It was impossible to know. Thus rose the curtain on his immortal life...

◆ ◆ ◆ ◆ ◆ ◆ ◆ ◆ ◆ ◆ ◆ ◆ ◆

The Japanese title for this one is difficult to get into English: 血だまりの詩. The kanji at the end, 詩, can mean song, poem, verse, or Chinese poem. I tried to replicate the feeling of it in English by rendering it as “sonnet.”

Chapter Index & Credits Page・ Mobile Friendly Version

[notsocheezy]

Brain Curd #256

Brain Curds are lightly edited daily writing - usually flash fiction and sometimes terrible on purpose.

I do not typically put content warnings on these, but the following contains fatal levels of transphobia and other bigotry in the context of a fascist state. Readers’ discretion is strongly advised.

“The Council is called to order. Will the citizen please step forward?”

Five masked and cloaked individuals sat high above the room, towering over it, legs hidden behind a wide and imposing walnut monolith to give the illusion that these figures were larger than life. Their decisions were unquestionable, passed down from God - or so they wanted every citizen to believe. And the citizens did indeed believe. Dozens of them observed from the sidelines, excited to see a degenerate put in its place.

Luna approached the bench. She did not stumble as she walked, nor did she casually stroll. She displayed in her stride the exact sort of reverence the Council considered compulsory.

“You have been accused of transsexualism and general indecency on fifteen counts. How do you plead?”

“Not Guilty.”

The Central councilman nodded. “Will the prosecution please present our case?”

A short, bearded man straightened his tie and got up from his chair in the corner. He paced in front of Luna with a devious smile.

“This citizen is documented to be a recipient of genital mutilation on two occasions with the well-known counterfeit ‘diagnosis’ of gender dysphoria, as well as breast and vocal cord augmentation. Physical examinations have shown scars in the expected places and the lack of female internal reproductive organs. Despite this, we have multiple eyewitnesses to corroborate that it has solicited and engaged in intercourse with several men. I am prepared to call them to the stand.”

The Central Councilman put up his hand. “No need. The citizen has obviously contorted itself into a visually pleasing form - proof enough that men have been fooled by it. As a nod to fairness, I would like to allow the citizen to refute these statements.”

Luna stood confidently in the spotlight of the room, dust dancing in the air in front of her. She breathed in, she breathed out.

“Every accusation made today can be simply refuted.”

The Central Councilman tilted his head. “Is that so?”

“Yes,” She continued. “Those documents were forged by the transsexualists to pump up their numbers, so to speak - part of a disinformation campaign meant to make those freaks look like a larger portion of the population. I was simply caught in the crossfire. My scars are not a result of purposeful genital mutilation, but side effects of me fulfilling my womanly duties.”

He breathed heavier, almost moaning. “Go on.”

“I gave birth twelve years ago, and again seven years ago. On the first occasion, doctors were forced to reconstruct my genitalia due to damage. Because of that, on the following occasion the decision was made to deliver via cesarean. Doctors deemed me unsuitable to carry children, so removed my uterus - as was standard procedure of the time.”

“Where are the children?”

“They sadly did not survive. This was another factor in my sterilization.”

“I see. Please explain your extramarital affairs.”

“After my husband died in the Night of One-Thousand Flames - a casualty, mind you, not an undesirable himself - I did what I had to do to feed myself. It is regrettable, but I am now a productive member of society. I cook and clean for my new husband.”

“Excuse me, Your Honor,” said the prosecution. “It should be entered into the record that this husband in question is one of my witnesses.”

“Understood,” The Central Councilman replied. “Citizen, this is very damning.”

“I understand that, Your Honor, but I hope once I have cleared my name today, he will understand that he was mistaken.”

“Why are the documentation of these births not available?”

“They were destroyed in the Night of One-Thousand Flames as well. My husband at the time was attempting to retrieve them when he was burned alive.”

“Hm.” The Central Councilman tapped his fingers. “I find this account surprisingly credible. Obviously, though infertile, this is a very beautiful woman able to bring pleasure to a man.”

The prosecution clenched his fist and tightened his jaw.

The Central Councilman quipped, “If your husband doesn’t want you, sugarcakes, I’ll be happy to show you a good time.”

The gallery laughed.

“Unless the prosecution objects, I believe I am prepared to make a verdict.”

Luna smirked.

“Your Honor,” said the prosecution. “There is still the question of the remaining surgeries. Scars align with what would be expected from a transsexual.”

The Central Councilman looked down upon her. “Go ahead and explain.”

“I had breast cancer. Early stages.” Luna gulped subtly. The sweat began to trickle down the back of her neck. “Doctors removed them and my husband requested reconstructive surgery so that I might look as appealing as before. That is all.”

The prosecution banged his fist on the wall. “What about the vocal cords, degenerate? You’re trying to deceive us just as you deceived all those men! There’s no way out of this one! Admit it!”

Luna was backed into a corner, though she stood in the middle of the room. Either way, she was vulnerable. She had only one option.

“There was a slight hormone imbalance during puberty and my voice lowered in pitch. It was a condition that was easily corrected and is now no longer an issue.”

The Councilman scowled with disgust through the eye holes in his mask. “Do you mean to say that you were aware of this in your teens? That you were a hermaphrodite?”

“No, Your Honor, not a hermaphrodite. It was a small imbalance, hardly anything. But I was aware of it.”

“And yet you reproduced anyway?”

“It was my womanly duty to.”

He shook his head. “You have admitted to two grave acts of murder by carrying children you should have known would not survive. The prosecution argues you were infertile in the first place. In either case, you have provided negative value to society - as shown by your own husband’s displeasure with you. I can find no rationalization to spare you. You are sentenced to death.” He banged the gavel.

“No, no!” She screamed out. “You can’t do this to me! I’m not one of them!”

“May you burn for eternity, wretched thing, for your crimes against life and dignity.”

She screamed and struggled as the guards emerged from the shadows to pull her away to the incinerator room, but it was no use. She was dead from the moment she stepped into the room, yet she sacrificed her soul and her sisters nonetheless. A pitiful sort, wasn’t she? Wasn’t she?

Please comment, reblog, like, and follow if you enjoyed - I'd love to know what you think! See you again tomorrow.

[murdockparker]

Foolish Endeavor - Part 1

Benedict Bridgerton x Reader

Summary: Benedict Bridgerton was certainly no fool. Bad at cards, sure, a bit taller than most, that was a given, but he was seldom called a fool. Though, one could argue that falling for your best friend was a foolish endeavor, indeed.

Word Count: 4.9k

Warnings: mix of book/show, mixed canon, tried my best to be time-accurate but even the source material isn’t so.... bon appetit!

next part

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Of all the charming places in the world, London seemed to be at the height of that list. True that many in the ton were used to the daily life of the fair city, but far more found the simple pleasures of the life to be more than suffice, the joys of society far too enjoyable.  

Lady (Y/N) (Y/L/N) was decidedly not one of those few people.

Daughter to the Earl of Kent, the only child he had sired, she grew up rather lonely within the walls of their lavish homes—the one in London, Tonbridge and the estate near Scotland. It was not as if the earl and his wife longed for more children—no, they had tried their hardest to conceive a son to pass the title and fortune on—the countess could simply not carry another child after the miracle of their only daughter. This not only left (Y/N) terribly lonely, but felt the largest sense of duty to fulfill, to provide her parents with a grandson to continue the lineage before the earl should pass. Her father had no brothers, nor male cousins to his name, all records of distant and far-off relatives were coincidentally destroyed in a fire many years ago—her grandfather would deny any accusation that was thrown his way. Because of that tragedy, the earldom would all but disappear should an heir not be procured.  

(Y/N) did not consider herself to be of the maternal type, but as her duty required, she would have to muster any bit of those fleeting feelings to provide for her parents, for their title. How she loathed the system in its entirety for that sole purpose. Naturally, she could not acquire the title for herself—a woman in society could never have that privilege—so she must begin to court, to find a husband to provide her an heir. Of course, this brought a great laugh to Lady (Y/N), as it was of the normalcy that the men in the ton required such a thing as well. 

Courting was, in every word imaginable, boring. None of the eligible men in the ton seemed to strike (Y/N)’s fancy—no matter how hard they tried. Each ball was filled with strife, meaningless conversations and rather terrible company. The keen fact of the matter was that (Y/N) couldn’t simply marry any man in the ton, but a man of no title. Once again, a laughable endeavor as many eligible bachelorettes were seeking the opposite—a man of nobility and the deepest pockets to provide for their full life.

Thankfully the infamous gossip rag, Lady Whistledown, had not yet caught wind of the (Y/L/N)’s true reasoning to the desperate need for their daughter to marry, lest the ton be any of the wiser. Of course, those with half a brain would still want their title-less or less fortunate son to marry a well-off young lady such as (Y/N), considering she would potentially have a rather large dowry and welcome the son into the rather influential family, the point was moot.

So here she was, at one of the many balls of the season, the Cowper ball, standing terribly too close to a refreshment table, hoping not a soul would notice her. Of course, her mother had prepared for such an attitude, having (Y/N) dress in a ghastly pink dress to catch the eyes of suitors from around the ballroom. She was practically fluorescent, shining like a candle in the night. When her eyes locked with a man coming her way, she nearly downed her glass of lemonade.  

“Lady (Y/N),” the man bowed, out of politeness. (Y/N) could all but roll her eyes at the sight. She bit her tongue at the thought.

“Lord Greenwood,” (Y/N) nodded back. 

“Truth be told, I did not expect you to be at this event tonight,” Lord Greenwood said, his hand finding his pocket effortlessly. The man was the older type, not nearly as young as (Y/N) with a good fifteen years difference between them at the least. He had a wife once before, both her and their heir dying during childbirth, so the Lord had no choice but to begin to court again, to hope for an heir again. It hadn’t been a love match, to (Y/N)’s knowledge, but they seemed to care enough about one another to equate such a loss. 

“If I must be truthful, neither did I,” (Y/N) replied honestly, grabbing another glass of lemonade, her silk gloves tracing the delicate pattern on the glass. “I do rather hate these dances.”

“But with a beautiful presence such as yours, surely your dance card must be keeping you busy, no?” Lord Greenwood motioned to the card hanging from her wrist, trying to eye the list of names written on the back. (Y/N) grabbed the card quickly from his prying eyes.

“Y-yes, of course my Lord,” (Y/N) faked a smile, “my dance card always seems to be filled, never giving me the proper moment of respite I so desperately need…” She eyed the man briefly, hoping her point would catch. He seemingly did not. “That moment, of course, being right now.”

“Ah,” the Lord nodded, “apologies for interrupting. I was just to see if you had but a line left on your dance card. I would be most pleased to share a dance with you this evening.”

“I’m afraid my card is full,” (Y/N) gave the most forced smile she could muster, one hopefully read as sympathetic. She hoped deeply that it worked. “Perhaps you should find me earlier at the next dance?”

“Of course, I will surely have to do just that,” Lord Greenwood nodded, his eyes dancing right behind her head. He found himself glancing at a group of young ladies, all looking pleasantly alone and oh-so beautiful. “If you must excuse me.”

(Y/N) let out a caught breath, finally able to release the card from her hand. Her dance card hadn’t been filled at all—not with genuine names at least—she had taken a moment to fill nearly every spot with a believable name so she could have one free evening this season to relax and enjoy the music. Of course, she had left one line free, just in case she were to find a man worth her time and breath. As if that would ever happen. 

“Turning away a viable suitor? I can practically see the steam rising from your mother’s ears.”

(Y/N) found herself turning her head, only to be met with the eyes of Benedict Bridgerton, a friend, thank God above. “Well, hello Mr. Bridgerton. Fancy seeing you this evening.”

“Fancy indeed,” he hummed. “I must say, it was quite hard to not see you this evening.” Benedict smiled at her dress, eyeing the bright fabric with a casual intensity. 

“Mama thought it be best I wore something eye catching,” a sigh almost escaped her lips. “She believes no suitable man would possibly see me otherwise.”

“Now why on earth would she think of that?” Benedict laughed lightly. “It is not as if you try to hide by the refreshment tables or in the hallways, is it not?”

(Y/N) fought back a grin, the corners of her lips turning upwards ever so slightly. “You think little of me, Mr. Bridgerton,” she took a sip of her lemonade, “I would never try to hide, I am rather good at it, so there is no need in trying.”

“Hiding will not find you a husband.”

“Perhaps that is the goal?” (Y/N) eyed Benedict lightly, her brow arched upward. “You see how these ladies throw themselves about the room, going from suitor to suitor,” she pointed across the way, “take Miss Harrison for example, her mama has her in such an ill-fitting dress, her bosom is practically falling out of it.”

“I do not see your point? Miss Harrison has an ample bosom, surely that is what could bait her a husband, no?”

“I could never stoop so low as baiting a man,” (Y/N) nearly shuddered. “If I ever were to marry—and my mama is hell bent on making that so—I would want it to be of my own volition and choice, not because I was merely charmed during a waltz.”

“I once again fail to see your point,” Benedict smiled lightly. “You do not wish to marry, yet you would if a man were to charm you somehow else?”

“If I were to find a man worth marrying,” (Y/N) corrected, “it certainly wouldn’t be within the social setting the ton seems to have everyone wrapped around.”

“Because you despise these gatherings?”

“Precisely that.”

“If I may be so honest,” Benedict leaned closer to her, “I too despise this setting.”

“You share that as if I didn’t know that much,” (Y/N) teased. “You seem to forget that we have known each other for many years.”

“We have,” Benedict nodded, “but ever since your debut, we have seldom chatted, especially at events such as these.”

“Well, we wouldn’t want the ton to think we were courting, would we?”

“Would that be the worst gossip to come about us?” Benedict asked honestly. It wouldn’t be, he had decided. “I can think of, at the least, five other juicy morsels that Whistledown could choose to publish instead. Why, I rather think that your dress this evening would be a key topic of conversation.”

“You couldn’t possibly wish to court me, the ton would know it too,” (Y/N) waved him off, simply ignoring the rightful jab at her dress. “You only jest.”

“Perhaps this is true,” Benedict laughed hesitantly. The truth behind his words was shaky at best. “It would be like courting my sister, even if my sisters are mostly wonderful ladies.” He tapped mindlessly against his newly-refreshed lemonade glass. 

“How is your mother dealing with Eloise’s debut? I’m sure that your sister is just loving her time in the season.” (Y/N) was genuinely curious of how the middle Bridgerton daughter’s debut had been going, knowing from their time growing up that Eloise seemed rather… against everything the season had to offer. The earl and the late viscount were great mates from their schooling, the families growing up not too far away from one another while the (Y/L/N)’s were in London. (Y/N) found herself at the Bridgerton residence more often than she’d ever admit, finding great company in the eldest four Bridgerton siblings. She also found comfort in the youngest four, too, almost as if she was their older sister. It felt nice, to feel like she had siblings, and the Bridgertons had quite a few to spare. 

“Mother has her head in a tizzy,” Benedict sighed, a hand resting on his pocket. “She wanted Eloise to debut sooner,” he hummed, “Anthony is rather cross about how she’s been acting.”

“Eloise is younger than when Daphne debuted, no?” Benedict nodded lightly. “Well, Daphne debuted later and found a husband with no problems,” her mind drifted to the rumored duel between the Duke of Hastings and Anthony. “Few problems, I imagine. Best to start early in the seasons, though.”

“You,” Benedict poked her shoulder, “debuted at two and twenty if my memory serves correct.”

“And I,” she poked back, “held off on that front as long as I could,” (Y/N) held back a grin. “I am nearly considered a spinster now, currently on my third season.”

“Just as you’d like it, I presume.”

“You know me too well, Mr. Bridgerton.”

“Ah, must we be so formal?” Benedict sighed, his head cocking ever so slightly. “I do understand the prying ears and eyes of the room, but I do rather hate it when you are so formal.”

“Apologies,” (Y/N) sniggered. “I did not know that would cause such a great offense.”

“Minor offense was taken,” Benedict hummed, rocking slightly on his heels. His eyes followed the dancers around the center of the room, watching the new couples and courting prospects alike twist and turn. “But I do miss being called ‘Benny’, if you must know.”

“Certainly your youngest siblings still call you that?” (Y/N) nearly snorted. “I haven’t even dreamed of calling you that since we were out of our leading strings,” she scanned her eyes quickly around, “and even so, I wouldn’t be so keen on using it here.”

“You simply didn’t know me whilst we were in leading strings,” Benedict laughed. “And no, Gregory and Hyacinth simply call me by my given name, as one would expect.”

“So it must be Eloise who still calls you that,” (Y/N) sharpened her gaze at the tallest Bridgerton. His cheeks flushed at the notion. “Ah, I see I’m correct.”

“Eloise is known to be quite teasing,” Benedict coughs, trying to hide his embarrassment. “Particularly with me, so it seems.”

“You are one of her favorite brothers,” (Y/N) hummed into her lemonade glass, nearing the bottom. Soon enough the glass would be empty, leaving her with no reason to stand off to the side. A large sigh escaped her lips.

“I didn’t know my presence would be such a bore to you,” Benedict said, a lopsided smirk following.

“No, trust that it is not you but the dreaded fact that my mama is to find me soon,” (Y/N) finally finished her glass. “I have not taken to the dance floor all evening and—” 

“But your dance card is full?” Benedict grabbed at the card dangling from her wrist, reading the names carefully. His grin grew wide, face twisting in amusement. “You mean to tell me that you haven’t shared a dance with a one R. Montague?” (Y/N)’s eyes were fixed on the floor, a smirk dancing across her lips. “I’m sure that C. Worthy is practically crestfallen to not have waltzed with you.”

“You mustn’t forget I. Lash, he was a rather persistent fellow, rather handsy,” (Y/N) tried to sound sincere, failing miserably.

“So pray tell, what if your mother asks to meet any of these viable suitors?” Benedict asked. “Or asks why you hadn’t been on the dance floor?”

“You must have missed the blank line, Benedict,” she cautiously used his given name, almost in a whisper, “I had planned to make at least one dance this evening.”

“With whom?”

“That, I’m not sure,” (Y/N) all but shrugged. “I have to take to the dance floor at least once, lest my mother be any the wiser. I figured that I would find some suitor I did not particularly hate to twirl around with, one to fool the masses.”

“And Lord Greenwood was not that suitor?”

“Please,” (Y/N) snorted, “Lord Greenwood could practically be my father. No amount of wealth around could get me to play pretend and feign interest with him.”

“This just brings me back to my earlier point, hiding will not find you a husband—or a dance partner.”

“I am not hiding, you seemed to find me quite well.”

“I can always find you.”

“If that is clearly the case, why do you not add your name to my dance card?”

Benedict’s eyes grew wide at his friend’s boldness. It was customary for the man to ask the lady for a space on her dance card, not the other way around. “But I am not a possible suitor for you, is that not correct?”

“No, you’re correct,” (Y/N) said quickly, as if it were obvious. “But I’d much rather spend my one dance of the eve with a friend than someone entirely too vexing.”

“You don’t think I’m vexing?” Benedict threw his hand to his chest in mock offense, a small gasp exiting his lips. (Y/N) narrowed her eyes at the gesture, her smile not dropping in the slightest. “I should take that as a compliment, but somehow my heart hurts.”

“As I said, I would appreciate,” she punched her words, “to spend my dance with a friend.”

“Well, I’m sure your mother would find it most pleasing to see you dancing with a Bridgerton.”

“So you understand?”

Benedict offered his hand gently, awaiting (Y/N)’s to join. “I understand completely.”

—

The evening at the Cowper residence was one of infamy. It is in This Author’s opinion that many a love match were made in the very halls the ton found themselves in last eve. It is on good authority that the elder Lord Greenwood has charmed Miss Alice Harrison and a courtship is surely soon to follow. 

But that, dear readers, is not the high of the evening’s events. Benedict Bridgerton, second eldest of the Bridgerton brood, found himself scarce as always until the eleventh hour, finding his way amongst the dance floor with none other than with dear family friend Lady (Y/N) (Y/L/N). Lady (Y/N), of course, being the daughter of the esteemed Earl of Kent, is rumored to be making haste on finding a marriage partner this season. Could her dearest friend be that candidate? Their dance only had happened after a prolonged conversation nearest the refreshment table, perhaps Mr. Bridgerton found a way to finally charm her in the ways only a suitor could. This Author is inclined to keep a watchful eye on the handsome couple, lest we miss a love match right under our noses. 

Lady Whistledown Society Papers

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Benedict felt his eyes nearly pop out of his head, reading and re-reading the small pamphlet that had been delivered to the Bridgerton residence in the early morning hours. He normally did not entertain himself with the gossip paper, but when Eloise nearly spat up her first cup of tea amongst the column, he grew interested.

“Brother, it could be worse,” Eloise tried to reason. “You rarely are mentioned amongst her ramblings, if this is to be the worst—”   

“It is not me I am worried about, sister,” Benedict sighed, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose tightly. “(Y/N) is to find a husband this season, for Lady Whistledown to insinuate that we are courting—”

“It will not hurt her chances,” Anthony chimed in, having been sitting in the room the entire time. “Besides, if I recall correctly, you yourself had once said that a rumor of a supposed courtship with Lady (Y/N) would not be the worst in the world.”

“I was merely saying that in jest, brother! I did not think that it could possibly come to fruition, especially with everything else that happened last eve. Lady Cowper nearly fell into the lemonade bowl, at her own ball, surely that could’ve made some sort of impression.”

“You two did look rather taken with one another on the dance floor,” Eloise said, playing with the threads of her pale blue frock. She had dressed up nicely for the morning, much to her disdain and her mother’s persistence. Perhaps she’d have a caller in the morning, crazier things have happened. “I’ve known her forever, she’s never looked at anyone like she looked at you.”

“You don’t know of what you speak,” Benedict waved. “Sister, I have known her just as long as you, she was merely playing the part of a devoted debutante at a ball to appease the countess.”

“(Y/N) must be a fine actress, then,” Eloise said, sitting on the couch beside Benedict with a flop. “She seemed to fool the entire ton with one dance.” Benedict’s face fell like stone, hardened in thought.

“You cannot possibly be angered that this rumor would be the worst to come of you last evening,” Anthony laughed at his brother’s demeanor. “How unfortunate that you’re supposedly courting a fine young lady.”

“But I don’t wish to be courting anyone, let alone a good friend of mine.”

“You mean to tell me that your long-time crush on (Y/N) has simply dissipated?”

Benedict grew silent. It was true, he had been infatuated with the young daughter of the earl since they were children, her demeanor and way she held herself was unlike any of the other children the Bridgertons found themselves in company with. She had a quick wit, a sharp tongue and the prettiest eyes Benedict had the pleasure of viewing. Of course, he knew she was meant to wed an influential man one day, never could she entertain the idea of courting a second-born son, let alone a man she saw no more than a friend.

“Those feelings were merely those of children,” Benedict assured his older brother, if not, assuring himself also. “I’ve grown since then.”

“If you say so, Brother,” Anthony said. He decided to drop the topic altogether, noting Benedict’s demeanor on the conversation at hand. The energy in the room shifted, it was obvious. Eloise looked beside herself, almost biting back words she desperately wished to share. Anthony shot her a stern look, a wordless plea to not push her brother’s buttons further. The look didn’t work.

“Benedict, (Y/N) is a wonderful friend. I’m sure if you were to court her—”

“I am not courting!” Benedict shot up from the chaise, the eyes of his siblings all locking onto him, Eloise instantly growing silent. His fists were clenched, knuckles turning white. “I have little desire to wed, let alone court a dear friend,” he paused, as if to get his point across, “I wish you would not speculate any more about it, it makes you no better than Lady Whistledown.”

“Benedict, we were mostly doing it in jest,” Eloise quietly added, almost afraid to set her brother off again. She hardly ever went quiet.

“Eloise is right,” Anthony rose to Benedict’s side, a hand placed on his shoulder. “It was mostly in jest.” Benedict shoved his brother’s hand off his shoulder, finding himself storming off to his bedchambers, away from his various siblings.

“What did you all do to Benedict?” Colin asked, having just joined the family from breaking their fast. “He looked as if he was ready to kill.”

“Kill Lady Whistledown, no doubt,” Eloise said, handing Colin the latest gossip column. Colin took a moment to graze the first article, having noted Benedict’s name rather quickly. 

“Ah. I suppose he is.”

—

Across town, at Kent House, a similar conversation was taking place over their breakfast, a feast fit for, well, an earl. (Y/N) felt as if she wanted to crawl inside herself, away from the prying eyes of her mother and father, afraid to even be seen amongst the ton at all. She instantly dashed any plans to be had that afternoon, she simply could not bear to be the topic of gossip amongst the masses. She was hardly the topic of conversation in Whistledown, anything said about her was usually a compliment, but the occasional singe of scandal graced the text of the gossip rag every now and then, but then again, it had for practically everyone in the ton as well. 

“Benedict would be a perfect match for you,” Lord Kent nearly grunted. “He’s the second born Bridgerton. He’s not to be the next viscount, should his brother have sons, leaving the opportunity for heirs to inherit our family’s title—”

“I understand that, papa,” (Y/N) groaned, shoving the fork into the mush on her plate. She hadn’t had an appetite since reading Whistledown. “But Benedict is a friend!”

“Your father and I were friends first,” Lady Kent spoke up, “I don’t see you having any other suitors lining up. You hadn’t had a gentleman call upon you since the first ball of the season.” Her mother continued to eat their meal, taking almost dainty bites of the toast. “How have we not thought of the Bridgerton boy before?”

“Benedict is not a viable suitor,” (Y/N) pleaded again. “He agreed to dance with me last night—as a friend,” her voice was pointed, “nothing more, nothing less. He is but a good friend to me.”

“I wouldn’t push the Bridgerton boy aside so quickly, dearest,” Lady Kent said, blotting the corner of her mouth with a pure white cloth. “Why, any of the Bridgerton boys would be quite the match indeed. They all are the epitome of excellence, great looking and great manners, Edmund and Violet did them well.”

“They did,” (Y/N) agreed quickly, nodding her head. “Although, Anthony is a viscount—also terribly loathsome,” (Y/N) ticked off, one, two, three, her fingers pointed to the ceiling. “Benedict is out of the question,” she pointed to her next finger, “and Colin? He practically still a boy.”

“Colin is your age, is he not?” Lord Kent asked.

“A year or so younger, dear, I believe,” Lady Kent tried to correct. “Or, perhaps,” she thought for a moment, “you may be right, dearest.” 

“The Bridgertons are a perfectly suitable family, anyone would be lucky to marry into it,” It wasn’t as if she had never thought of the notion, marrying any of the elder Bridgerton boys. As a young girl—a hopeless romantic one at that—she practically saw herself with nearly every boy around her age, wondering if they were to be wed in the future. As time passed, the notion about marrying into the Bridgertons became laughable, almost a farce.

“I’m sure if we were to strike a deal with the Viscount Bridgerton…” Lord Kent trailed off, nearly to himself. His wife nodded in earnest. 

“Yes, I am quite certain that the viscount would agree to such a match for his brother.”

“Papa! You cannot be serious!?” (Y/N) nearly screamed.

“Lady (Y/N) (Y/L/N)!” 

“I was merely thinking aloud, flower,” Lord Kent assured her. “You know how badly we need you to marry and produce an heir. You also know we agreed on no forced arrangements until your fourth season, should there be a fourth.”

“Nearly a year to go,” Lady Kent sighed. “You must make haste if you wish to not have your father’s hand in your match.”

(Y/N) mirrored her mother’s sigh. “I am well aware, mama,” She pushed her plate away from herself, almost disgusted by the thought of taking another bite. Not that she had eaten much of it anyway. “It is not that I don’t entirely wish to marry, I just don’t want to find my match at those boring events.”

“Those ‘boring events’ are where matches are made, dearest,” Lady Kent said. “It is simply how things are done.”

“Just because it is ‘how things are done’, does not mean that one cannot go off the beaten path,” (Y/N) droned, falling back against her chair, a rather unladylike motion. Her mother’s eyes nearly popped out of her head. She straightened up. “Trust that I’m working on finding a husband, please, on my own terms.”

“Well,” Lady Kent sighed again, a rather common reaction this morning. “If anything were to come from Whistledown, it at the least makes you more desirable. With a Bridgerton supposedly interested, the rest of the ton is sure to follow.” 

“I’m sure that you’re only saying that—” 

The doors to their dining room swung open, the family butler, Franklin, stood in the dead center. “My Lord,” he bowed lightly. “I’ve come to announce a number of callers for Lady (Y/N),” Franklin said, holding a small stack of cards. “Should you wish to hear their names?”

“How many?” Lord Kent asked, his interested peaked greatly.

“Six so far,” Franklin gave a small smile. “I’m inclined to believe more will be following—”

“Is the Bridgerton boy among them?” Lord Kent asked again. 

Franklin shook his head lightly, double checking the cards in his hand. “No, your grace, it seems as if Mr. Bridgerton is absent from today’s callers.”

“Pity,” Lady Kent said, tapping her fork against her plate lightly. “Well, dearest, I suppose you should find yourself presentable and entertain our guests?”

“Don’t I need a chaperone?” she narrowed her eyes. “Wouldn’t want another scandal to come of our family name, would we?”

“I will be joining in a moment to continue my embroidery,” her mother waved her off, “trust you will not be alone. Though, I do hope Benedict comes around.”

It took everything in (Y/N)’s power to not groan at the thought. To see Benedict amongst her callers—suitors wishing to perhaps ask for her hand—was a laughable endeavor. Sure, he would certainly stand out amongst the masses, his height making it easy to spot him from even the farthest of distances. She always loved his height, how even at their somewhat of a height difference, he never made her feel small. He always had appreciated her presence and opinions, never allowing her to fall to the sidelines…

But she couldn’t possibly bear to see him with the fools waiting for her in the drawing room. No way.

[carelessflower]

continue series of me talking about little details of malec that make me insane an an abnormal amount let talk a quick turn and analyze malec + hand because i simply cannot comprehend the sheer insanity of it. aside from the obvious appearance: magnus smooth probably moisturizer using hands and alec scar 3-in-1 soap using hands, these are features that showcase their most obvious difference. warlock and shadowhunter. one with magic thrumming beneath his vein and one grew up with blades thrusted into his hand. by holding each other’s hand, they know, they know what are they promising themselves to. the man they love, not only his joy but also his sorrow, his anger, his grief, the blood hidden on his palms and the monster in his mirror. 

do magnus and alec know this? of course. how couldn’t they. they see it and they accept it and they still choose each other anyway. 

Alec put his hands out. They were pale in the moonlight, wrinkled from water and dotted with dozens of silver scars. Magnus looked down at them, and then back at Alec, confusion darkening his gaze. "Take my hands," Alec said. "And take my strength too. Whatever of it you can use to-to keep yourself going." Magnus didn't move. "I thought you had to get back to the ship." "I have to fight," said Alec. "But that's what you're doing, isn't it? You're part of the fight just as much as the Shadowhunters on the ship-and I know you can take some of my strength, I've heard of warlocks doing that-so I'm offering. Take it. It's yours."

[City of Ashes]

a child of the angel freely offering his hand-his strength to the man that save his life

They came to a jerking stop, dangling in midair. Alec’s hand had closed around Magnus’s wrist. Somehow he had lunged across the destroyed pentagram and the shattered stage: he was stretched out, half his body dangling over the edge of the abyss. He tried to pull Magnus up but the weight of Magnus and Shinyun was too great. He slid forward, gripping the edge of the abyss with one desperate hand.

Fear clutched at Magnus. Shinyun was still holding on to them. They might all fall together.

“Let go,” he shouted at Alec. “Let me fall.”

Alec’s eyes went wide. His fingers held Magnus’s wrist even tighter.

[The Red Scrolls of Magic]

alec holding onto his heart for life

He could see the path in front of him very clearly: He could hand back the book, walk away from Magnus, find someone else, some Shadowhunter to love, be with him, share the kinship of predictable days and nights, the daily poetry of an ordinary life.

Or he could take the step out into nothingness and choose Magnus, the far stranger poetry of him, his brilliance and anger, his sulks and joys, the extraordinary abilities of his magic and the no less breathtaking magic of the extraordinary way he loved.

It was hardly a choice at all. Alec took a deep breath, and jumped.

“All right,” he said.

Magnus whipped toward him in the dark, all coiled energy now, all cheekbones and shimmering eyes. “Really?”

“Really,” Alec said. He reached out a hand, and interlinked his fingers with Magnus’s.

[City of Heavenly Fire]

just like their love, it was hardly a choice at all. alec lightwood and magnus bane choose each other, the rest of the world has to make peace with that

tag list: @dustandducks @literallytypogod @secrettryst @magnus-the-maqnificent enjoy this brain random thought generator

[dragonsarecool]

Whumptober Day 21 - “You’re Safe Now”

Twenty One: ‘You’re Safe Now’

A/N: Set between ‘Red Rackham’s Treasure’ and ‘The Seven Crystal Balls’.

Even though these kidnappings were almost a daily part of Tintin’s routine, they never got any less frightening.

If anything, they had become something of a nuisance. It was becoming quite irritating trying to run errands or spend a day at the market when he kept getting chloroformed or knocked on the head. It’s a wonder I don’t have brain damage by this point.

Letting out an irritated sigh, he shuffled irritably in his bonds. Even though the knots around his wrists weren’t as tight as he’d initially expected, the ones that restrained his chest to the pole were enough to ensure he wasn’t going anywhere. He was quite cross at how these kidnappers had treated him, considering what he’d been subjected to previously. At least the others had the decency to offer me a chair! Plus, these are probably the scratchiest ropes I’ve ever been tied with.

Part of him couldn’t believe he was actually criticising his own kidnappers. I really need to stop getting into these situations.

He’d been glad that these kidnappers hadn’t gagged him straight away, for it meant he actually got a rare opportunity to interrogate them further. Unfortunately, once they’d decided to phone the police and demand a ransom, then the tape had been magically produced and roughly forced over his lips. He could taste the residue on his tongue, and it made him nauseous. Can’t believe I’d prefer a handkerchief…

With his method of bargaining taken away and no one willing to talk at him, he’d resigned himself to leaning idly against the pole, trying to ignore how his legs gradually began to protest holding his weight for such a long period of time. They weren’t very exciting kidnappers, either; they’d been seated on upturned crates on the far side of the warehouse playing a game of poker ever since they gagged him. 

For a while, he wasn’t even one hundred percent sure why they’d abducted him - he’d been so busy helping the Captain to move into Marlinspike and settle the legal documentation that he hadn’t had the time to investigate any gangs for months. Just my luck, isn’t it…

But as soon as he saw Allan walk through the side door to the warehouse, his heart froze.

Allan had given him a very detailed account of how he’d come to be there, though Tintin did miss most of it due to trying to regain his breath after being repeatedly punched in the stomach. From the little information his brain had managed to obtain, Allan’s drug-smuggling business was beginning to go under, and this was a last-ditch effort to rid himself of his remaining stock in order to begin a new, undisclosed scheme.

“You completely destroyed my enterprise, young man,” Allan emphasised his words with punches to Tintin’s stomach and groin. “All those years of planning and meticulous secrecy, gone in an instant because you couldn’t help yourself, and had to figure out what was on my ship!” 

Your ship?! Despite being in an indescribable amount of pain, Tintin had still been offended. I think the Captain would have something to say about that…

He was grateful that Allan’s attention was quickly diverted from using him as a punching bag, with the man himself disappearing into the bowels of the warehouse while his henchmen had continued their game of poker. It had taken some time before he felt he could breathe normally again, and he slouched against the pole in relief.

He desperately wished he could look at his watch, though he was pretty confident it was now late evening. Surely the Captain would’ve noticed he was missing by now-

BANG!

A gunshot from outside the warehouse drew his attention. He turned his head as far as he could, trying to see what was going on. I hope that was a police gunshot-

A door slammed as one of the kidnappers sprinted inside, desperately holding a hand to his shoulder that Tintin noticed was dripping rather profusely with blood. It took the man a moment to form his message around the pain he was experiencing: “Coppers!…They’ve found us!”

Everything seemed to happen at once. The injured criminal was dragged aside by one man, whereas another two withdrew handguns from their belts and jogged towards the door, only to start shooting once it had been knocked in by a group of police officers. A fourth kidnapper jumped over a crate in front of Tintin, sticking his hand above the lid to fire a shot at the police.

Tintin cringed as the gunfire began to spray across the room, praying that it would miss him. Why did he have to hide there?! The police’ll hit me!! He heard the cries of injured men, both police and kidnappers, as they collapsed onto the ground, the sounds of wet splats of blood making him feel ill. Please please please, make it stop!!

“Tintin!” 

The young man opened his eyes, though they quickly widened at the sight of a baby-faced police officer sprinting to his side. “Hang on, son. We’ll get you-“

The officer never got to finish his sentence, for a bullet quickly sliced through his throat, ripping his carotid artery into pieces. A shower of blood instantly exploded from the wound, jettisoning in spurts towards Tintin and splattering across his sweater.

He was dead before he hit the ground.

Tintin instantly retched; it took all of his strength to ensure his stomach contents were going to remain where they currently were. I’ll choke with my mouth taped like this!!…Mon Dieu, sauve l’âme de cet homme.

The anxiety became overwhelming. He squeezed his eyes shut and allowed himself to sob, the anguished cries of injured men sounding magnified in his ears. He leaned back against the pole and kept his eyes focused on the ceiling in the vain hopes of ignoring the body that lay at his feet, blinking away the tears that dripped onto his cheeks. 

He tried to ignore the wet sensation of the officer’s blood that now decorated his front, but found that the nausea only kept building as he felt it soak through the fabric and onto his skin. I don’t even know his name…

Fingers were dancing along the bottom of his face. It took him a second too late to realise that someone was ripping the tape from his mouth. “ARGH!!”

“It’s alright, Tintin,” A second officer discarded the gag, setting to work on the knots that bound him to the pole. Spots of blood were visible on the side of his head, some dripping from the brim of his hat. “You’re safe now, son. We’ve got ‘em.”

Tintin didn’t answer. His body trembled uncontrollably; his gaze was glued to the deceased officer, and the puddle of blood that encircled his body.

“Tintin? You with me, son?” The officer placed a hand on the younger man’s cheek, turning him away from the dead man. “It’s alright, Tintin. You’re safe.”

Although he said nothing, the police officer seemed to understand.

Once his bonds were released, he took a few minutes to regain feeling in his legs before he shakily walked out of the warehouse, refusing to look back on the carnage behind him.

I’m not safe, officer. And I never will be.

A/N: Mon Dieu, sauve l’âme de cet homme = My God, save this man’s soul

[ogravensimp]

azarath-survives!AU

AU where Azarath was never destroyed so Raven has been raised there all her life and becomes one of their top high priestesses. One day, Damian just happened to end up teleported there somehow after a particularly tough battle and falls in love with the cold but beautiful priestess who saved him

(I’ve had this AU in my head for a while and this is just a vague short as I figure how to make this a proper fanfic)

“Would you please stop following me, Mr.Wayne?”

“Would you please stop referring to me as ‘Mr.Wayne’? It’s Damian to you beloved.”

The teenage girl finally stopped her long strides and whipped her head around to face the boy behind her; her dark purple-tinted hair followed obediently in unison as she turned, before settling around her face like a picture frame. There was something about the way her dark hair contrasted with her smooth brownish-grey skin, making it appear even brighter like an ominous halo.

She was his enchantress, his Raven.

Damian watched her in slo-mo; observing all her movements so they can stay etched in his brain forever.

From the way, her violet eyes flickered with irritation and her dark eyebrows scrunched together delicately, to the way her darkish-pink, plump lips were curling up to scowl; all these things only fuelled his belief that she was an angel as for never in his life on earth had a beauty like this ever crossed his vision.

Despite how many times he was told: “no, he is not dead and this is not heaven.”, his mind just couldn’t compute it all. If he wasn’t in heaven how can they explain the marble roads they walked on or the golden buildings they so simply let him stay in? Damian was no peasant back on earth—not even close—but even he has never lay witness to a place as utopia like as “Azarath”; and to add a cherry to the cake, it was home to his future wife (even if she won’t admit it yet.)

“Mr.Wa-…Damian, how many times must I tell you? You must rest if you wish for your injuries to heal.”

She crossed her arms over her chest as she huffed and in that sole movement, she exposing the developed body of hers that was normally hidden by that godforsaken white fabric she always dawned.

In quick long strides, he stood before her, only inches between them. Damian took this as a good sign, a statuesque goddess like her would've probably shifted away from a lesser man that dared to invade her space so boldly but this proved that Damian was different. He was worthy.

She looked up at him sternly but he could detect hints of interest in those pools of perse. She was curious about him and for now, that was enough.

Tilting his head slightly he replied, "Why would I want to be healed? That means you would stop attending to me. Why would I ever want that to end hmm?"

He hummed slowly as he spoke, he was honestly far more interested in following the path his eyes made on her figure; from the slim of her waist to the slender neck and back all the way to the round of her hips. There was something so satisfying about her figure curve that he couldn't help but be drawn to it; though that doesn't me if he was presented with other dips and bumps of her body, he would be as equally as enthused to appraise them.

His reminiscing was not long cut short by the same person who haunted his desires.

Raven sighed.

Of all the men that Azar could've summoned to be helped by their holy temple, it had to be the devil himself.

Raven has never met a man like Damian Wayne...well she has not met that many men. She is self-aware enough to acknowledge that she is but a sheltered priestess, all she knows is her sutras and daily meditations and has spent her youth dedicating her mind and body to Azar. So when she feels those piercing virescent eyes hyper-focusing on her form in a similar nature a predator locks onto prey, she becomes at a loss on what to do.

"The quicker you heal the quicker we can send you back to your home, why must you be so stubborn? I am a priestess, not your personal healer, you must rehabilitate based on your own will," The words rolled off her tongue like gravel, she had said these words to this boy only Azar knows how many times, and has become quite tired of this daily speech, "Also, it is best to not stay here too long, I'm sure your family misses you and if you just followed the instructions I gave you-err..."

Her worlds came to a halt when she felt a rough thumb graze her lips.

In Azarath, physical contact is almost unheard of so her mind did not have the experience to compute what is happening, simply shutting down in panic. With her mind gone, all left was her heart which was running a mile a minute as the digit seemed to twiddle with the fat of her lips.

"Such soft lips yet your words cut deep, this is why you interest me so,", Raven felt overstimulated in all senses. As of now, all she could see, feel and sense was Damian; she was being muffled in him. She stood frozen as his hand trailed from her lips to her hair, watching silently as he took a tuft of her hair and kissed it as if it was precious silk, "you are but a walking contradiction.”

As he spoke into her hair, he looked up at her with that same piercing gaze that made her feel like she was a meal on a silver platter.

Hitching her breath, she didn’t respond; hoping to convey a reply through the trembling of her eyes.

Damian let out a small chuckle. He simply couldn’t hold it in; her eyes were so wide and pure that he accidentally made comparisons to her and a cornered stray cat.

Unfortunately, the moment he broke character, Raven reacted as if broken from hypnosis. The innocence in her eyes was immediately overshadowed by both anger and embarrassment.

She slapped his hand away and made a show of moving far away from his reach.

“May Azar be with, Mr.Wayne”

With that she turned around and continued on her past path like nothing had blocked her in the first place. All Damian could do now was quietly watch; her white cape for a single moment, resembled those of wings as she flew away from him.

‘Truly interesting.’ was his only thought.

There was just something fascinating about her innocent belief that there was a chance in hell that he was leaving this paradise without her in his arms.

Not even her Azar could stop him and his Raven will soon learn: There is no stronger force than a man in love

[all-about-seggs]

┗ Love- Lies- Bleeding

Pairing - Geto Suguru x Virgin!reader

Word count- 4.8 K

Warnings - Gaslighting, Corruption kink, snuff (not graphically depicted) and then reincarnation, cunnilingus, fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, adding blasphemy kink just to be safe.

A/n- Geto isn't a yandere here but it's Villan! Geto we're talking about so I think his actions are pretty in line with his current canon! Personality. Though a bit delusional. This is by FAR the longest thing I've ever written.

The gray cobblestones stretching across the shrine clicked against your thick wodden sandles, the quaintness of the place only making it seem unnaturally loud. It's was a regular autumn morning, which soon turned into noon as you felt the bright sun shining right on top of your head.

Having finished your morning tasks you were returning to the main shrine where the senior priestess would give you further things to do. Just the thought of more work non stop made you sigh at your monotonous shrine maiden lifestyle but as you lamented you heard footsteps behind you, the sound of which same as that of your own.

"Hey!.....", You turned around to see your little sister huffing as she catches up to you,

" y/n! He's here again!," The implications of her words made your face heat up, sure you were still a bit green and naive, but you made sure to discreet when it came to 'looking' at that one particular man that always seem to stand out among the hoards of faceless people you saw visiting the shrine everyday.

"How many times have I told you not to phrase it like that! You'll get me in trouble with the priestess!", Scrambling to get yourself together you retort sharply.

"Oh come on! Youre the one who used to stare at him from a distance like a lovesick teenager! Atleast now you're talking to him like a normal person", In terms of liveliness the sound of your back and forth was the only thing the place had.

"Watch it! If someone hears you we'll both get scolded", gently warning her again you find yourself turning back to where she came from. The other part of the premises where the peculiar man would be standing, as usual, in all his serene beauty, on the brigde overlooking the small lake.

A man in traditional Japanese cloths that you rarely see anyone wearing these days came to your shrine everyday, without fail for the past month. Everything from his attire to his elegant long hair left you in a trance and your eyes would naturally follow him.

Something about the fact how he'd always come here but never to pray or wish striked you as odd so at first you just observed and even before completely wrapping the situation around your head you two started sharing numerous conversations of the huge world that was right outside but so far away from your reach, his words fuelled the budding curiosity in your heart, the vastness of which made your trips to the lake, the most refreshing part of your otherwise monotonous daily routine.

Even if all you did was talk, a 'supposidly' demure maiden working in a shrine, skipping on her duties and rushing to the other side of the ginormous area to see a man felt almost elicit, scary even when you consider the consequences that would come if you were to get found out. The charisma his every action held was beyond resistance and you soon found yourself enraptured by the male despite everything.

"This is so pointless" you huffed, smiling out of self pity to hide the more frustrating emotions twirling within you.

"Yet you do it everyday", with a small nudge from her elbow you made your way straight to the lake, forgetting about your obligations as a shrine maiden, the responsibilities, the restrictions and all inhibitions put upon you in the name of god.

With quick steps you soon found yourself at the base of the curved brigde,

"Good afternoon Mr. Geto", your greeting came out in a rush, trying to ignore the warmth of your face, but your attempts at hiding your flustered state didn't go unnoticed by the man in front of you.

" Seems like you've been having quite a hectic day", smiling in his usual serene way Geto gracefully turns his head in your direction.

" Not any more than usual", calming your erratic heartbeat you slowly close the distance between the two of you and stand beside him on the arch of the bridge.

" It's really nice here", He remarked, his eyes sweeping across the tiny fishes swimming near the surface of the lake. You stared at him for a little while before finally asking the one thing that drew you to him the most.

" I always wondered, why do you come here everyday if you don't even want to go to the main shrine to pray?. Surely it's not just for this scenery."

" Hmmm? Pray for what?", Not particularly moved by your question he quizzically tilt his head.

"Well.....you know, the usual, success in job, finding a significant other or maybe even something materialistic? Although I doubt you're interested in the last one", you laugh a little to take the edge off your slightly personal question.

"Dreams come true through steadily applied efforts not praying", with his sage like appearance, his words didn't came off as a shock.

"Not the best thing to say to a shrine maiden but I guess it's somewhat true", Quipping back you just looked at him with a smile, silently revelling on your familiarity with each other.

"What about you? You never look like you're having fun while working here.... As if you're the one who's not satisfied with you're job" His voice took a more serious note and asked the question you always tried to push away but for the first time, you felt safe. Safe in talking about things what most people around you would call blasphemy.

"Yeah well, I wouldn't say it's my life's calling. It's basically following the ideals that has been written by others and just blindly following them day in and day out", just as you finished your sentence you realised how shallow and sad you just sounded but the slightly widened eyes of Geto was what made you mentally kick yourself before you hastily try to smooth things over.

" But! It's not that bad! Once you get used to-", after a few lighthearted words to clear the heavy atmosphere that was building up you were cut off with one long finger hovering just above your lips.

" It's okay, you don't have to worry about being judged with me", not touching your lips he quickly retreats his hand back,

"It's only natural to question your ideals and beliefs when you actually start thinking about them, it's a proof of growing up. I can say it was the same for me as well, I had thought I'd spend my whole life sequestered in 'that' place but...." His gaze takes on a far off quality as his words fade.

"What changed then?", Without even knowing why, you urged him to continue.

"Well, I grew up and realised mine were just idealistic views, far from practical."

"Wait! How old are you now?!", Unable to ignore your budding curiosity you went on,

With a soft flick to your cheek he snorted in amusement, his low baritone made you recognise your own rudeness as you rub the non existent pain off of your face.

"It's not polite to ask strangers their age, regardless of their gender, young lady".

"I'm sorry! It's just, your answer...... Was kinda vague so...." Trailing off, the fact that he didn't owed you any explanations dawned on you making you stop. But the sudden halt in your unabashed questioning didn't go unnoticed by the long haired man so he continued, as if reading your thoughts.

"Everyone's entitled to act idiotically every once in a while but you sure are abusing your privilege", he went on, after a few words of sass.

" It took a while but, I soon discovered my true feelings about the world I lived in and how I wanted to change it", The unshakeable conviction of his voice reverberated through your ears and there seemd to be more to the hint of darkness in his downcast eyes, but further questions left your brain as you felt genuine resolve through his words.

Before you could process what's happening, Geto pulled you in close, resting his hands on either side of the brigde railings, caging you inbetween the low wall and his body.

"How about we run away to a better world together?", not waiting for you to protest he spoke. The words falling from his lips were casual enough to make you overlook the outrageousness of their meaning and your oddly intimate position did nothing to stop your brain from short circuiting.

"The decision is yours y/n but I'll be waiting anyway," his voice seems to trail a little before he bends down, his thin lips ghosting over your right ear, " you see, I hate it when even the good gets destroyed along with the bad", with that he quickly pulles his body back, letting you have your personal space again.

"I'll come back here at 8 'o' clock tonight",

After announcing that smoothly, he turns his back away and walks off to the exit, leaving you gob smacked at his confusing words.You watch him saunter off, still to awestruck to move when you finally take a note of your own unsteady breaths and face that radiated heat rivaling the sun atop.

" Who would- even go along with that crazy idea", your meek words get lost in the now empty place but the longing in your eyes to see what lied beyond your conservative lifestyle was as clear as the autumn sky hanging above.

You turn your back on the place and jog off in an effort to escape your own complicated feelings on the matter. His casually spoken words clawed at your heart, an entire different life was just one step away and it was shocking to even you how much trust you were subconsciously putting in every single word he says.

The conflicting thoughts in your head kept you busy the entire walk from the bridge to at the door of the only home you had known for so many years and never once your feet held such hesitation as you entered the building to continue the tasks you had left behind for the momentary change you craved so much.

The evening passed by in a flash, the thumping of your heart only getting louder with each passing hour. You just got out of your bath and were getting ready to help with dinner when you heard two voices coming form one of the senior priestess's room

"I saw her talking to a man, he didn't looked like a -", their words weren't clear but one thing was. Their topic of discussion was you.

"No he was wearing a hakama", it was getting harder and harder to breath with every second. If they were to tell that to your other supervisors then it would become very difficult for you to live here.

"So he could be from a neighbouring temple, maybe just asking about something general?"

"But weren't they standing too close?"

Listening in from behind the door all you could make out was that they clearly saw you and Geto, but one thing was certain. You were about to be very strictly reprimanded for just having curiosity.

Before you could even think up of some excuses to get yourself out of this mess the previous offer of his night time rendezvous flashed in your mind. It got you thinking, if you were going to be made to stay under supervision for a while anyway then the least you could do was to meet Geto one more time so as to let him know that his idea was indeed crazy and that life wasn't that easy for you to give up on everything you've done until now just on a whim.

You couldn't exactly get to a proper conclusion, sure leaving seemed like the better option but the fact that you'll be heavily dependent on Geto for everything didn't sit will with you either. It's not like you had any other skills or connections and even if he said he'd take you with him, you weren't fully ready to trust him on that. Why would you? It's not like you two were connected or related in any way.

The meeting time was approaching fast and since it's dinner time soon most of the girls would be around the dining area to help. It was the perfect opportunity to slip out unnoticed and come back after explaining things to the kind person who brought a few extra colors in your dull life.

Shakily you made you way to the back door, knowing full well you're about to commit another offense.

In a few minutes you reached the bridge, it was empty right now, indicated that your are ether early or that maybe Geto was actually just messing with you and oddly enough you felt your stomach drop at the thought of the second option.

But before you could overthink out the negative options you sense eyes on your back and whirl around to see a happy looking Geto strutting towards you.

" I take it you have decided to entrust yourself to me?", Greeting you with his self assured words he smiles amicably at you.

" Actually- I've decided to not leave", you say, with both sadness and regret in your voice.

He listenes to you in silence, his face doesn't look convinced no matter how much you explain but he never interrupts you until you're finished.

" So, Is that what you really want? To rot in a place which binds you to unnecessary obligations?", He blankly says, after you're done.

"It's only natural to lose something in order to attain greater things y/n", steping in your personal space again he peers at you face, his eyes were slited enough to hide their true intentions yet leaving just enough space for the moonlight to give them an otherworldly glow.

His beautiful face just centimetres away from yours and before you can finish he grabs you by the chin and delivers a mind blowing kiss.

This wasn't good for your heart. Your previous resolve was melting, just like the rest of you. Geto quickly slipped his hot tongue inside your mouth, exploring every nook and cranny of it.

"Why are you going so far?", You ask, still not entirely convinced.

" Because we are the same, that's why I know what you want and I can give that to you. So trust me okay?", A few seconds pass as you both stare into each other, when you finally heave a sigh of defeat.

" I do want more than just a life of modesty,", having changed you decision yet again you look up at the man in a renewed resolve.

"That's my girl!", Almost excitedly he envelopes you in a warm hug,

"Well y/n? How exactly do you want to celebrate your new found freedom? ", giving his words a suggestive tone he leaned forward to press his lips against your ear, placing light kisses up and down its lobe.

A surge of heat runs through your confounded heart, voice raspy as you reply " Ofcourse I want to do it with you", the snickering above you made you realise the innuendo your words held,

" I meant the celebration! It as in the CELEBRATION OKAY?!", Frantically, you push against his chest to break your embrace, trying to explain the simple meaning behind your previous words but even so, you'd be lying to yourself if you said that the thought of sleeping with him never crossed your mind.

The unmarried virgin criteria you had to fulfill in order to be a shrine maiden was in the past now. So you couldn't find any reason to hold back now.

" I'd be an honor," Geto's melodious voice reverberated through the entire room and you whip your head upwards to look for the confirmation you needed.

With minimal amount of words Geto took you to a near by cottage, saying he atleast wanted your first time to be in a proper place. You thought he was staying at just a room in that cottage but it turned out he had rented the entire place.

For you, it was quite a luxurious thing, while it was something you'd love to revel in, you had other, more important matters to give your attention too.

With a soft click, Geto opens the bedroom door and ushers you in, you breathing coming out irregular, and you were almost shaking in both excitement and nervousness.

What if he doesn't like how I look like naked? Would he like it better if I had shaved? Wait- I hope I'm not wearing my ugly panties today!. While you were freting the small details, the long haired man quietly made his way towards the bed, where you sat, buring his face at the crook of your neck as his arms wrap themselves around you.

"White suites you",His voice rumbled in your ears, his tone as smooth and sweet as honey when he slipped his hand inside the collar of your top, parting the neatly tucked fabric until your chest was exposed. The sudden contact with the air and his hands made your nipples perk up. He fondles them a little while kissing up your neck and shoulders.

Slowly he undos the cloth belts that tied your red hakama to place and eventually you feel them loosen up and then down to the ground, leaving you in just your open white kosode.

Being so exposed in front of a man and that too for the first time made you instinctively cover your chest and crotch, but it was pointless really, because even your hands couldn't hide the dampness of your panties from the sharp eyes that seems to look straight through your meek attempt at modesty.

"Come on, show me everything", his eyes met yours, all attention on you and it was almost disconcerting how vulnerable his eyes made you feel.

Felling a warm rush of blood to your face, you slowly loosen the grip of your hands around your body, letting Suguru pry them off until they rested limply on your sides. Slowly you lie down flat on your back, shyly looking away.

"Getting embarrassed is fine, but there's no need to hid yourself, It's only natural to want to look at your lover's body",He says it with such low, sweet, seduction that your toes curl in response, the word 'lover' ringing in your ears sent your heart in a frenzy.

Slipping the rest of your garments off of your shoulders he gently kisses your ear, licking the contours of your jaw and all the way to the hollow of your throat. His mouth nibbed at the skin beneath as his smooth tongue caressed the marks it left behind.

Soon he latched his lips onto on of your nipples, his teeth grazing the hardened tips pulled a few moans out of you, his long hair tickled your skin wherever they fell and it took everything in you to stop yourself from grabbing onto them.

Moving lower, he soon reached your pussy, already dripping with arousal. You felt his breath on your folds as spreaded them with one of his hand and gave the smooth space inbetween a long lick.

Sucking on your clit with fervor, his arms around your hips traced it's dips and curves as he delves deeper into your moistened sex. Your moans were inevitable at this point, the feeling his mouth in the most intimate part of your body was making you shiver in ecstasy but as soon as he brought his hand near your hole you felt your thighs clench.

"Don't worry I'll only use one finger at a time to get you all nice and ready for later" Gentle reassurances flowed naturally out of his mouth as he covers his fingers in your slick before spreading your pussy more.

His digits push past your folds and buries themselves deep into your throbbing pussy, the sensation of being penetrated both new and arousing. Geto slowing moves his finger in and out as his tongue latches on to your clit again.

The sensations of being licked and fingered together intermingled in your body, bringing you closer to your release in no time. Although it was a good thing you didn't wanted to end it so quickly. He was undeniably good with his hands, knowing when exactly to add another finger or when to curl or rub them inside.

Maybe it's because it was your first time but the onslaught of your orgasm leaves you shaking and moaning wildly in the most unladylike ways you have ever acted. It was embarrassing how much you ended up enjoying while Geto did all the work.

Though he pushes you to your limit you can't help but want to watch his every movement, anticipation building inside you when he raises his head and props himself on his knees to get a better look at your blissed out face. You let out a sigh of longing as he bought his glistening digits to near your face as a proof of you how good he made you feel.

" I'm glad you like it honey", his voice dangerously seductive, he licks his fingers just as erotically, making you embarrassed.

" Let's move onto the part where you cum on my cock now shall we?", His crudeness may have been shocking but right now all you cared about was the cumming part so you let him manhandle your throbbing form until he properly lines himself up against your hole.

Suguru didn't removed his cloths fully, just loosened his hakama just enough to whip his member out.

" Deep breaths now y/n", his gentle guiding eased your mind, and so you relax your body to take him in because even if it's your first time, you were pretty sure he was big enough to make anyone ache.

A warm tingling pain tears through your core which soon mealted into something more euphoric, unbearably good even, making you cry out in ecstasy. He filled you up to the brim and you wondered how bad it will ache tomorrow. As soon as he bottomed out in you, the entire aura of the person about you changed and the room felt like it dropped a few degrees in temperature.

It was not what you'd expected as your first time. Not the painfully rough speed he started with. Not the large hand around your neck that threatened to cut off your air supply. And certainly not the cold, detached look in his face.

Even when your breathing was getting shallower by the second you still writhed in pleasure. It was alarming as to how much you were willing to entrust your entire self to Suguru who was nothing if not composed, keeping his hand firmly around your neck while thrusting his member in and out of your pussy, fucking you like some sort of rag doll.

Long gone was the mild mannered person you looked up at with heart eyes, maybe he was just different in bed, that's what you wanted to tell yourself but the lack of consent and the level of his roughness kept you from doing so.

He eventually let go of your neck, only to flip you on your stomach and shoved his cock inside from an even deeper angle. He didn't let you tap out until you came twice, with your third orgasm approaching just as fast.

The sumptuous heat from his body lingers on yours for sometime even after he pulls himself out

And you felt that the longer you stayed in his embrace, the more darkness seeped into you which would surely make you go numb eventually

You wanted to ask Geto what was happening but a few broken screams were the only thing you could make out, everything was sudden, how the pain made your vision go white to then pitch black and as your consciousness left your body all you could hear was Geto's calm voice.

" Next time you wake up, well be in a better world"

The few rustling sounds of fabric brought you back to the waking world, the dark blue skies outside with flashes of gold inbetween told you it was just the crack of dawn.

You slowly prop yourself up in a sitting position to look around the unfamiliar room.

You catch your reflection in the nearby window next to your bed, you looked the same save for the few indecipherable marks here and there.

" Good morning y/n", Quickly looking at your right, you see Geto just walking out of the bath, his mascular form only covered by a thin cottan kimono.

He was behaving normally, as if the events of last night didn't happen. So normally that you were starting to think you may have hallucinated the whole thing.

Walking towards your sitting form, Geto bends down to cup your jaw and layers his mouth on yours, the scent of his shampoo tingling your senses almost made you forget about everything else.

He breaks the kiss, gazing at your downcasted eyes, the heat from your face made him chuckle.

"Quite an innocent reaction considering all the things we've done", he smirks triumphantly at you, his eyes a mix of dark but intense passion. All the things huh. You thought. Your mind was still in a haze and it was talking longer to process your words and thoughts.

"What happened last night?, I can't remember everything properly", you were expecting straight answers, that how did you passed out or where you exactly were right now but Geto seemed to go off on his own tangent.

You were just like my past self,", were, he said. As if you're something else now. The man in front of you was changing his colors faster than you could comprehend his words and it was terrifying you.

"That's why it's my duty to show you everything that life has to offer, the entire extent of it. As long as you stay by my side.", Not paying an ounce of attention to your shocked state he want on,

" The people you were staying with before were only going to confuse you further, that's why I had to take you away".

"You are the most free and safest at my side, darling. But if you still want your preistess life back then, I'll be your god and you can spend the rest of your life worshipping me instead"

Of course, he didn't saw you as an equal who could stand beside him, you weren't even his lover, just someone below him who he needed to worship the ground he walked upon in. But even so, the fear you experienced just a few minutes ago dissipated, bringing back the curiosity that was at its height whenever he was around.

"Were you lonely?",Geto's eyes trailed up and down your face which halted in their track after hearing your words which oddly resembled pity.

" What-", the previously composed and slitted eyes expanded a little before his expression abruptly shifts, turning serious, making you flinch under its sharp gaze, the animosity that surrounded him contrasted with the previous tender kisses and touch.

With his one large hand he grabbed your face from the base of your jaw, painfully lifting it up until your entire body was a few centimetres above the surface of the bed.

" Listen up y/n, I didn't brought you here to dote on you and the only reason I wiped out your silly little shrine because I can't stand hypocrites who spread false teachings written by equally hypocritical people. It was your job to worship things you couldn't see before and now you have to do the same job for someone you can see. That's. All."

"Ofcourse, leaving isn't an option.I've turned your body into a reincarnated curse. If any of the Jujutsu tech people caught you roaming around, it'll be instant exorcism for you." He lets go of your face and sits next to your form, Geto was quite for a while, giving you time to sort out your own feelings on the matter.

You knew what was happening now. Inbetween those conceited words flashes of the warm blooded man behind the god slipped out and you had to resist the overwhelming urge to comfort the person who just confessed to have burnt down the shire you were living in just until a few days ago. Maybe your thought process was altered just like the rest of you body, or maybe you were always this crazy too.

The source of your sympathy was unknown but the twisted obsession of his was provided you with more solid answers.

Your meeting, the conversations, how you eloped together. All of it made sense now. He wanted to save you from the oppressive state of the place you had spend most of your life in, ofcourse he would. He was thinking of you in ways no one ever had. He loved you in ways no one ever will, or could for that matter.

And you,

You loved him too. You had to.

[dreamyyang]

summary: you made taeil’s undead heart soar and he was absolutely addicted to the feeling.

pairing(s): yandere!zombie!moon taeil x reader | kim doyoung x reader

warning(s): swearing, obsessive behaviour, mentions of blood, gore (kind of..?), minor character death, cannibalism, non con (taeil forcefully kisses the reader)

word count: 2.6k words

a/n: this is pretty heavy stuff so if any of the aforementioned content triggers you, do not read. please note that I do not condone taeil’s behaviour and that this is purely a work of fiction. my fic is not an accurate representation of taeil’s actual personality. 

part of @127-mile’s addiction collab

emotions were as foreign to moon taeil as brains and human flesh once were. while he doesn’t mind either of them, they were just very hard to come by. that changed when he got a job at the qian family’s mortuary, courtesy of qian kun, a mutual friend. johnny had already explained taeil’s special situation to kun, who agreed to give taeil access to the bodies so long as he worked as kun’s assistant. it was an excellent arrangement for both men - taeil could finally eat some proper food while kun finally had help. for obvious reasons, not many people were willing to work at a morgue, especially for such low wages.

taeil managed to ease himself into a routine of work, brains, sleep then repeat. while many people would eventually go insane from being constantly surrounded by cold, still bodies, taeil couldn’t care less. a zombie couldn’t ask for a better arrangement. while he did not experience emotions, he still felt a semblance of peace.

at least, that was before you showed up, completely unannounced. of course, your arrival wasn’t completely random, kun did warn taeil that his cousin was coming home after getting their phd, but you weren’t what taeil expected. he had this mental image of you being stoic and reserved. he thought you’d briefly acknowledge him with a slight nod while visiting your cousin and that would be it. imagine his surprise when he came to work and was greeted by a smile brighter than the sun. you were like the human embodiment of a meadow of flowers in the summer - warm, wonderful and welcoming. hell, you even smelled like flowers.

suddenly, his daily routine was ruined. 

most mornings, you would meet him at the mortuary, looking as fresh as a daisy, and hand him an equally fresh box of baked goods from the bakery next to your clinic. if it was a slow morning, and it usually was, you would make small talk with him while kun went over the day’s plans in his office. he began to cherish those morning conversations with you and his undead heart would sink when the clock struck nine and it was time for you to hug him and kun goodbye. from then on, he was usually in a sour mood for the rest of the day, not humouring the silly jokes kun made as they worked. he would get off work with a dull ache in his heart if you weren’t there to pick kun up or offer to take them out for drinks.

this abrupt change frightened taeil more than anything. why was he suddenly experiencing these strange feelings? he hated it. every day, he was going through a rollercoaster of emotions that would be decided by whether or not he saw his boss’ cousin. it was so absurd. in the past five years of him being a zombie, he hadn’t felt such extreme emotions before. they all felt so...so human.

when he consulted johnny about these strange occurrences, his friend began to howl with laughter, “dude, it’s so obvious!” 

taeil glared at johnny, “care to explain what exactly is so obvious?”

“you like y/n. why else would you be constantly pining for them?” 

taeil scoffed. johnny must have smoked something because there was no way he liked you. at best, he had known you for three months and it isn’t like you regularly spent time together. plus, you were related to his boss. johnny had no idea what he was talking about, he was full of shit.

“that’s bullshit. I don’t buy it,” taeil shook his head, leaning back in his chair.

“no I swear, it’s true! we drove past this factory and they were just beheading these chickens out in the open,” you sighed. “anyway, the sight was so sickening, I’ve never looked at meat the same way since.”

“yet you decided to be a thoracic surgeon.”

you shrugged, “yeah but operating on people and eating meat are two different things. I don’t mind looking at flesh and blood but the thought of eating any makes me sick.”

taeil silently thanked you as you made that statement. ever since johnny had suggested that taeil liked you, he’d been searching for reasons not to like you. and of course, there’s no way he could like you if you were a vegetarian. you would be absolutely disgusted if you knew what his main diet consisted of. yet, every now and then, he felt his mind drifting away to a different mental list - a list of the things he liked about you.

he liked how you would come up with the most absurd conversation starters, just to make him crack a smile. he liked how your hugs were warm and comfortable. he was even beginning to like the fuzzy feeling that would envelop his heart whenever he was around you. you made him giddy and lovesick and eventually, he didn’t mind anymore. being around you all the time forced him to accept that he had very strong feelings for you. in fact, he was certain that even as a human, he had never had feelings this intense. there was just something special about you that had him feeling some sort of way. normally, he would have been afraid of how you controlled your heart but now? he was in too deep to care.

he decided it was better for him to just accept the fact that he loved you. why try to fight it? it was highly unlikely that he would feel this way about anyone ever again. he had to hold onto you, he would be insane to let you go. 

finally, he plucked up the courage to confess to you. he was falling for you more and more every single day, and not being with you was slowly killing him. he decided to surprise you at the clinic where you worked with a bouquet of your favourite flowers. he planned to treat you to lunch at a romantic café then confess to you while walking you back to the clinic. he had rehearsed the little speech he wanted to give over twenty times with johnny, who repeatedly assured him that everything would go well. 

it did not go well.

taeil was greeted by a unpleasant surprise when he reached the entrance of the clinic. there you stood, his beloved y/n, in another man’s arms. taeil watched, horrified, as the man placed a soft kiss on your lips. you looked so happy with him and it broke taeil’s heart. he felt awful as he watched you smile at the man. that same wonderful smile that he wished was for his eyes only. it felt like a cruel joke to have your laughter fill his ears as tears pricked his eyes. taeil was glad that nobody was paying attention to him as hot tears stained his cheeks. he couldn’t have gotten away sooner, pushing past the people on the street to go home. 

he quickly texted an excuse to kun about how he felt sick and would be gone for the rest of the day. it wasn’t exactly a lie - he did feel sick and every time he thought about you and the stranger, it only got worse. he ripped up the bouquet and the plastic that had been wrapped around their stems, screaming as he did it. pain bled into fury as he destroyed the beautiful flowers. he was unbelievably angry and wouldn’t stop until every last petal had been snatched from the base and scattered on the floor. he was blinded by rage as he made a mess of his apartment floor. finally, the bouquet had been completely ripped apart and tears cleared taeil’s vision.

he dropped to the floor, feeling miserable as he stared at the mess, tears streaking down his face. he loved you so much, but someone had stolen you away. how dare that asshole? you were supposed to be taeil’s, how could he just come between the two of you like that? how incredibly selfish of him. taeil had to get rid of him, as soon as possible. the more time you spend with that jerk, the more he’ll ruin you. taeil scowled at the memory of the two of you kissing. he will pay.

 it was decided. taeil was going to make you his, one way or another. whether you liked it or not.

“I hate this, taeil.”

taeil nodded, feigning sympathy as you pouted and continued to complain, “doyoung’s been so busy the past week that he hasn’t been able to call me even once. he just sends brief texts… I really miss him.”

“that sucks, y/n, but you know, it’s a very demanding job.”

“yeah I know…but would it kill him to at least call to say good night?” you sighed, sipping your tea. “whatever. thank you so much for listening to my rant, taeil, I really appreciate it. you’re an awesome friend.”

the word stung, but taeil tried not to show it as he smiled and promised you that he didn’t mind. which was half true. taeil could never get tired of listening to you talk about any topic but one - kim doyoung, your boyfriend. it didn’t really matter, though. soon, taeil would make sure that you would forget all about that piece of shit. soon, moon taeil would be the only thing on your mind, just like how you were the only thing on his min

but first he had to punish you. you deserved it. if you hadn’t gone and dated another man, he wouldn’t have considered such a thing. you needed to be disciplined. you belonged to taeil and he was going to make sure that you remembered that fact. so he sat there in front of you, politely nodding as you vented about your boyfriend, and tried to think of a suitable punishment.

“I know I’m complaining about him a lot, but I really like doyoung,” you laughed. “even though he took me to a barbecue place for our first date.”

that’s when a lightbulb went off in taeil’s brain.

for someone who couldn’t survive without eating brains, taeil sure was an idiot. somehow, he’d gotten roped into a dinner date with you, doyoung and doyoung’s sister, jisoo. at least he managed to convince you to let him host the dinner at his apartment, insisting that he wanted to make a good first impression on jisoo. you’d wiggled your eyebrows and teased him about it but he knew, deep down, setting him up with someone else was hurting you. but you wouldn’t have to worry about hiding your feelings for much longer - taeil would soon relieve you of your misery. ideally of course, he wouldn’t want to start off your relationship with a double date with other people. not to mention your little punishment, but hey, all relationships have their ups and downs.

now if he could just get that pesky little jisoo out of the way.

after briefly stalking doyoung’s instagram account, taeil managed to find jisoo’s account and figured out where she worked. getting her to stay away was easier than he thought it would be. all he had to do was press a small knife against her neck and she was begging for him to leave her alone. he left her trembling in the alley behind her office, with her tears stinging the small cut that ran down the side of her cheek. he wasn’t worried about her telling her brother since that’s who he’d be visiting next.

he had to say, out of all the humans he’d made dishes out of, doyoung was certainly the best. probably because his meat was actually fresh, but you really seemed to enjoy him as well.

“god taeil, your spaghetti is wonderful. I can’t believe doyoung and jisoo are missing out,” you nearly moaned as you devoured your dinner. “these are the best vegan meatballs I’ve ever had. seriously, how’d you make this?”

taeil shrugged, “I used a pretty basic recipe, although I did use something extra special for those meatballs.”

“would you mind sharing what that special thing is, master moon?”

taeil’s smile dropped, his expression completely serious now. you didn’t think much of it, taeil was probably just being dramatic. however his tone as he spoke his next sentence sent a chill down your spine.

“enough dilly-dallying. tell me, sweetheart, did you really think you could get away with dating another man?”

you were too stunned to speak, what the fuck did he just say?

“woah, don’t get shy now. did you seriously think you could go be someone else's whore and I wouldn’t get mad?”

“taeil, what on earth are you talking about?”

you looked like a scared and helpless little rabbit and taeil would be lying if he said that didn’t make him feel some type of way. taeil’s predatory gaze burned into your eyes, ensnaring you and refusing to let go. you were confused. why was taeil behaving like this? why was he so angry with you? but you were certain about one thing: tonight was not going to end well for you. 

with a gentle voice, you tried to calm him down so the two of you could have a rational conversation but taeil wasn’t having any of it. he grabbed you by the wrist and pulled you up to your feet, stepping away from the dining table and pulling you close till your chest brushed against his. suddenly, his steely gaze slightly softened.

“y/n, my love, I hope you know that I didn’t want to do this to you, but you left me no choice. you forced my hand.”

tears were beginning to well up in your eyes. taeil was getting frustrated. you knew exactly what he was talking about yet you were acting as though taeil was speaking in cryptic messages. taeil noticed your tears and tsked, cupping your cheeks. there was no point in you crying now. the deed was done. taeil was hoping you’d learnt your lesson so the two of you could move past this.

“don’t cry, sweetheart. at least, not until you know what I did.”

“but taeil, I don’t even know what I’ve done,” you sniffed lightly.

“darling, I love you. and I know you love me too, you don’t need to say it. but why did you have to go and date doyoung? do you know how much that hurt me?”

you shook your head, “taeil, I really didn’t know how you felt. but I’m sorry, I don’t feel the same way.”

taeil glared and tightened his grip on your jaw, “fucking lies! that dickhead doyoung has brainwashed you. oh my precious y/n, I feel so awful for punishing you the way I did, but how else will I fix you?”

“what do you mean?” you asked, afraid of the answer he was going to give you.

“those vegan meatballs, darling. although I suppose the term ‘doyoung meatballs’ would be more accurate.”

your beautiful features were twisted into a look of pure horror as realisation dawned upon you. taeil couldn’t help but let his lips form a maniacal grin. he was rather proud, even if he did say so himself. doyoung would never be a problem ever again. nor would anyone else be, for that matter. taeil knew that you were his good, obedient little y/n. you wouldn’t dare to hurt him ever again. satisfied, he leaned in and forced you into a kiss. you were too shocked to fight back.

as he pulled away, he pushed the hair out of your face.

“remember to behave yourself, darling.”