#this thing has been haunting me. since forever.

[cheeseatlantic]

alt scenario!!

NOVOCAINE (ALT)

Simon Riley isn’t used to feeling. At least, not like this. Pain, sure. He’s familiar with that. Knows its ebb and flow, the way it creeps into his bones and settles in his chest. But this? This is something else entirely.

He leans against the doorframe of your shared flat, mask still on, because that’s all he knows. The cotton clings to his skin, sweat from the mission still lingering, but it’s the safest armor he has. His eyes flick to you, curled up on the sofa, staring at the ceiling like you’ve been for hours. He can feel the distance stretching between you—an invisible chasm he doesn’t know how to cross.

You haven’t said a word since he walked in. The air is thick with the weight of things left unsaid.

“Say something,” his voice is gravel, broken and raw.

You don’t look at him. “What’s the point?”

He flinches like you’ve just driven a knife through his ribs. “Don’t do that,” he mutters, stepping closer. “Don’t shut me out.”

You finally meet his eyes, and the emptiness there cuts deeper than any enemy ever could. “It’s not me shutting you out, Simon. It’s you. You’re a ghost, remember? You haunt, you disappear, you leave pieces of yourself behind, but you never let anyone touch the rest of you.”

He wants to deny it. Wants to tell you that you’re wrong. But he can’t. Because you’re right.

“I don’t��” He stops, fists clenching at his sides. He wants to say he doesn’t know how to be anyone else. That the mask isn’t just fabric—it’s survival. But the words die in his throat.

You sigh, sitting up and cradling your head in your hands. “I feel like I’m walking on pins and needles, Simon. Like every step I take with you might be the one that breaks us.”

“Don’t say that,” he whispers, voice barely audible.

“Then give me a reason not to.” Your words are a plea, a last shred of hope dangling in the air between you.

He moves closer, finally tearing the mask from his face. He kneels before you, scarred and vulnerable, a man stripped bare. “I don’t know how to fix this,” he admits. “But I can’t lose you. I’ll try, love. I swear I’ll try.”

Your fingers hover over his cheek, hesitant, like you’re afraid touching him will shatter the fragile peace. “Don’t promise if you can’t keep it.”

But for the first time, Simon doesn’t feel like he’s lying when he answers, “I’ll keep it. For you.”

And for the first time in what feels like forever, you let yourself believe him.

send me the therapy bill if u need babes idk…

[skymagpie]

I have been ranting and raving like a madwoman about BfA lately, and I have to put my thoughts into one coherent essay or I will explode

Battle for Azeroth is the original sin of everything that was wrong with Shadowlands and everything that will forever be wrong in this franchise between the Horde and Alliance. People have talked in length of the massive character assassination of Sylvanas with the Burning of Teldrassil (the original sin) so I won't go into that, but everything from that point on is a serious narrative landslide.

The Kul Tiras zone quests were good, and Zandalar is even better. The whole thing with N'zoth was great. The Fourth War storyline is absolutely irreparably terrible.

The way Jaina is written is one of the major issues with everything terrible, because this was supposed to be her moment to forgive herself, find forgiveness from her home and use her powers to fight against the rising threat through which she will finally find catharsis for her father's death and Theramore. However somewhere in the middle of those beautiful heartfelt cinematics with her mother and the beautiful animated video, we get this

This is film language to depict a villainous character. Especially when you put this shot right after the blood curdling scream of a 17-18 year old girl who just found her father dead. This is a villain shot that has nothing to do with anything else Jaina has done in the entire narrative, she is not even there in the game. But THIS is still left in.

And since my post, much like the game itself, sidelines the Horde narrative of this, lets look at the other side of the story, the one you get when you are playing Horde.

The young princess of a foreign kingdom is kidnapped by another kingdom under suspicion she might be working with the enemy. She is in fact seeking help to save her country from an artificial Old God. While escaping, there is an attempt on the princess's life. This is already something that would justify her father, the king, going to war with this kingdom - which he doesn't.

Then said kingdom invades the shores of the princess's homeland, ransacks her city and destroys sacred shrines, kills a great amount of their people and finally kills her father the king in front of her, prompting that blood curling scream as she watches him die.

And this whole story has no actual closure. The princess never gets revenge, in fact she gets to solve even more problems caused by all of this, the people that did this are never forced to face what they have done. In fact it's never brought up. It just happens.

And then you are given the chance to play as one of the people whose kingdom was ransacked and whose king was murdered. You can play a Zandalari. And you are forced to be nice to his murderers and help them out with their own problems and through their own trauma. Because we made peace now. Two huge atrocities, and now everyone is friends with each other.

This cannot happen. This should've never have happened. Burning Teldrassil shouldn't have happened, Jaina's raid on Dazar'alor should've never have happened. Fourth War was handled like dogshit and left so many problems that half of them cannot even be fixed. They are just swiped under the rug.

So don't tell me about Jaina apologism or Jaina hate, this is clearly a case where the writers were going to villainbat her, they gave up halfway, left their mess behind and now if you want to play Zandalari you have to live with the fact that there will never be any kind of narrative closure for you, that you will be friends with Jaina and that Talanji will never get an ending to her arc and any kind of catharsis.

And if you are a Jaina fan, you were robbed of some good parallels and complexity, because if this is a narrative they intended (which it isn't) and if this is a narrative you like for Jaina, its tragic that she never gets haunted by her role in the death of another girl's father, in the same story where she deals with the death of her own father. That the parallels between her and Talanji were brought up so vaguely they might as well be a mistake, and that she was the architect of creating trauma for another young woman that will most likely never even come up again, much less impact her as the empathic and kind person Blizzard is trying to revert her to.

But because none of this is intended, everything will be swiped under the rug, you will drag your Zandalari through slop Kirin Tor questlines with Jaina as if nothing happened, and if you heaven forbid like Talanji, you will just never get catharsis for her entire story.

0/10 for the Fourth War, you missed every shot you took and killed the bystanders with them.

[cradle-of-darkness]

CODE FORETOLD CO-OP

an epithet erased fanfic in the form of a simple visual novel in google slides I made for funsies :)) (over the course of 4 months)

Synopsis: The museum trio visit an arcade Giovanni used to frequent and find an obscure game with an alleged secret. The three encounter some familiar and unfamiliar faces, explore the arcade, and unearth a mystery lurking within its walls.

you can check it out HERE!!!!

and the second part HERE!!!!!!!!

and if not, enjoy the art I made for it anyway!!! waow!!!!!

[kyouka-supremacy]

Failed a social interaction 0 injured 1 killed (me)

[acourtofquestions]

Boots crunched in hay, and then he was knee to knee before her.

Aedion.

There was nothing kind on his face. No pity or warmth.

For a long minute, they only stared at each other.

Then the prince growled softly, "Your plan was bullshit."

She said nothing, and couldn't stop her shoulders from curving inward.

"Your plan was bullshit," he breathed, his eyes sparking. "How could you ever be her, wear her skin, and think to get away with it? How could you ever think you'd get around the fact that our armies are counting on you to burn the enemy to ashes, and all you can do is run away and emerge as some beast instead?"

"You don't get to pin this retreat on me," she rasped. The first words she'd spoken in days and days.

"You agreed to let Aelin go to her death, and leave us here to be slashed to bloody ribbons. You two told no one of this plan, told none of us who might have explained the realities of this war, and that we would need a gods-damned Fire-Bringer and not an untrained, useless shape-shifter against Morath."

Blow after blow, the words landed upon her weary heart. "We—"

"If you were so willing to let Aelin die, then you should have let her do it after she incinerated Erawan's hordes!"

"It would not have stopped Maeve from capturing her."

"If you'd told us, we might have planned differently, acted differently, and we would not be here, damn you!"

She stared at the muddy hay. "Throw me out of your army, then."

"You ruined everything." His words were colder than the wind outside. "You, and her."

Lysandra closed her eyes.

Hay rustled, and she knew he'd risen to his feet, knew it as his words speared from above her bowed head. "Get out of my tent."

She wasn't certain she could move enough to obey, though she wished to. Needed to. Fight back. She should fight back. Rage at him as he lashed at her, needing an outlet for his fear and despair.

Lysandra opened her eyes, peering up at him. At the rage on his face, the hatred She managed to stand, her body bleating in pain. Managed to look him in the eye, even as Aedion said again with quiet cold, "Get out."

Barefoot in the snow, naked beneath her cloak. Aedion glanced at her bare legs, as if realizing it. And not caring.

So Lysandra nodded, clutching Ansel's cloak tighter, and strode into the frigid night.

"Where is she?" Ren asked, a mug of what smelled like watery soup in one hand, a chunk of bread in the other. The lord scanned the tent as if he would find her under the cot, the hay.

Aedion stared at the precious few logs burning in the brazier, and said nothing.

"What have you done?" Ren breathed.

Everything was about to end. Had been doomed since Maeve had stolen Aelin. Since his queen and the shifter had struck their agreement.

So it didn't matter, what he'd said. He hadn't cared if it wasn't fair, wasn't true.

Didn't care if he was so tired he couldn't muster shame at his pinning on her the blame for the sure defeat they'd face in a matter of days before Perranth's walls.

He wished she'd smacked him, had screamed at him. But she had let him rage. And had walked out into the snow, barefoot.

He'd promised to save Terrasen, to hold the lines. Had done so for years. And yet this test against Morath, when it had counted ... he had failed.

He’d muster the strength to fight again. To rally his men. He just ... he needed to sleep.

Aedion didn't notice when Ren left, undoubtedly in search of the shifter with who he was so damned enamored.

He should summon his Bane commanders. See how they thought to manage this disaster.

But he couldn't. Could do nothing but stare into that fire as the long night passed.

[kittyg67789]

Forever thinking about how they just keep forgetting the rule of bread and circuses 😔

[enigmaris]

Superboy Prime punched through the multiverse. This, of course, defeated the enemy he was fighting that was trying to destroy the world, but multidimensional punches dont just affect the mortal plane.

The ghost zone, the infinite realms, felt the punch like a nuclear blast. Haunts destroyed, ghosts displaced through time and space. It was chaos.

Whats worse? Danny's friend is missing.

Danny had met Robin in the GZ during one of his adventures, the two dead teen vigilantes took to each other like ducks to water. Danny helped Robin learn about being a ghost and Robin taught Danny life skills such as: throwing a punch, lockpicking, and how not to fall for obvious traps that villians set up.

Even Sam and Tucker had met Robin, although since Robin was such a new ghost he wasnt strong enough to leave the zone for long. Young ghosts (halfas aside) needed to spend the first decade or two in the zone before they were stable enough to go back to the mortal side. Danny had offered to fly to gotham with a message for batman, but robin had declined.

Batman and he had had a fight before he died, the guy probably didnt want to see or hear about the robin that failed after all.

Robin had forbidden Danny and the others from looking into Gotham.

Danny would not be in Gotham if his friend hadn't disappeared after the sonic attack that had rocked the ghost zone. He had no idea who Robin had been under the mask. Even in death, his friend had not shared his secret identity. But Danny needed to find his friend before he destabilized into ectoplasmic goop.

So now Danny has to find Batman, convince the guy that ghosts are real and that his adopted son Robin is a ghost. He manages to find the bat signal on top of the GCPD and hails the hero.

Who has a new robin with him.

It hadnt even been a year!!! Batman had replaced his friend with a younger model, this one was wearing pants instead of shorts!! What the hell!!!

Danny is so offended that if he didn't need Batman's help to save Robin, he would so punch the guy in the face. Multiple times.

Danny explains the problem to Batman and FAKE Robin all while keeping his cool.

"His ghost probably ended up near his grave. Just get me to the cemetery, if he's there, i can find him and save him before he fades forever."

Batman agrees.

Internally, Bruce is bluescreening. His mind is just thinking: Jason. Jason. Jason. Jason! Over and over again. He needed to get to his son. Right now.

Tim wasn't expecting his first mission as Robin to go like this, he had just finished his training, but nothing he had trained for prepared him for a ghost that told him that he met Jason while fighting a magic ghost dragon.

When all three get to the cemetary, they find Jason Todd's grave empty. A hole in the grass, just wide enough for a person to crawl through. The casket has a hole punched through it. Parts of the suit Jason was buried in were torn off and caught on splinters of the wood.

"I am gonna be honest. I did not know zombies were a thing." said the ghost.

With that, all hell breaks loose in Gotham.

[malt-rants-and-stuff]

going full breakdown mode because wowowow im ill and dizzy but shiramiya waits for no man

just starting from the top here: TASHIROOOOO!!!

also this:

On some level, Shirahama’s always been aware that he’s weak-willed. But this—this feels like something else.

just. such a great line from the very start. im so immersed already. carrying on

more tashirooooo and asking the important questions here. quick sidetrack but ive been obsessing over the new bits of characterization we've gotten from shirahama in these last few chapters, with him being such a hard worker seemingly even to his own detriment (and man he and hanzawa sure would have that in common. interesting. best not to think about that now.) i like how it seems so in contrast to his outside appearance. like harusono loves her contradictions, with her not-really-bad-boys and her hanzawa masato's, so it isnt too much of a surprise. but i still really enjoyed that he had that sort of passion in comparison to how lethargic he looks and acts. really good stuff there.

It’s a good question, but it’s not one that has an answer. It’s just—it probably isn’t anything serious, but Miyano hadn’t looked great, and what if it is serious? Even if his boyfriend’s taking care of him, it’ll be good for Miyano’s classmates to know how he’s doing. And that way he—they—won't worry.

oh boy... patting him on the shoulder this poor dude

“I don't know,” he says, and because he’s vindictive: “Why didn't you compete in the crossdressing contest this year? You seemed so pumped about it last time.”

SHIRAHAMA??? UNPROVOKED??!?!!?

Tashiro's hands stray to his hair, and he twirls a loose strand around his fingers. It vaguely strikes Shirahama that it’s not dissimilar to one of the sprites of the sporty basketball girl he’d romanced last week. “I didn't want to shave my leg hair,” he says, even though last year Miyano hadn’t shown a single inch of his leg.

guh. shots through my chest.

Tashiro’s just non-committal like that, Shirahama supposes—even now, he likes to act as if his ping pong captaincy just “happened” like an accident. He's spent three long-suffering years on the basketball team—he knows the apathy Tashiro unintentionally or purposefully projects is deceptive.

love that so much honestly, they know each other so well they call each others shit but also cant take that sort of conversation. spinning them around in my mind.

I wasn't thinking, he replies in his head, aware that it's a horribly strange conversation to be having, and the kind of shameless, setup-to-punchline answer he'd never give in real life.

he's so me

That courage immediately leaves him when the door opens with a sharp creak and he startles, hold almost slipping from the doorknob, but it's the pathetic thought that counts. Or something.

ough... but also uh oh that can only mean...

As he's about to slip in and shut the door behind him, a rustle sounds from one of the beds. The breath leaves Shirahama's chest, and he watches as Miyano's boyfriend—Sasaki, that was his name—emerges from the curtains, hair wild in a way that reads more like “bedhead” than “artfully tousled”—not that he'd say it was ever artful, but he's got no place to be critiquing Miyano's boyfriend's hairstyle…

haha oh shit sasaki and shirahama. dont know how to feel about that one. maybe scared. probably scared. uhhhh

—and speaking of. Sasaki’s staring at him. He sure is tall—for a moment Shirahama wonders why he'd never played basketball, but it’s the kind of wonder that’s paired with utter relief at the nonexistent situation. Then he feels very strange about that thought until Sasaki, with the sedate aura of someone who’s just woken up, blinks at him as if to communicate something.

mmm relief at the nonexistent situation meanwhile i feel anything but relief. why have you put that into my mind now. i am unwell...

Shirahama stares back, caught like a deer in headlights.

welp. youre trapped now.

“Close it quietly,” Sasaki says. Shirahama finally re-registers that his hand is hanging slack on the doorknob. “He's sleeping.” His voice is low, smooth, and deliberately softened to the point that Shirahama has to strain to hear it.

He wavers in the still-open entrance; his legs don't let him run away. The door closes with a soft click, but it may as well be a marching drum.

here lies shirahma, who died fearful in combat against his own bullshit. he lived as he died, wanting.

“I just… came to check in on him,” Shirahama says, too many beats late, careful to pitch his voice just above a whisper. He's not sure he manages. It's the “too many people” thing again, only concentrated—somehow, he’s the one out-of-place in a school he's attended for two and a half years.

Sasaki nods. “Thanks for looking out.”

ack conversation. shirahama you poor poor disaster zone. also loving this drum thing thats going on. very much making me feel all the same stresses he must be giving out in handfulls.

“Oh… no problem.” He represses the urge to throw up his hands in a sign of “I come in peace,” but he doesn’t know what else to do with them, so they hang limply and indecisively in front of him. Miyano's boyfriend is—it would be rude to say that he's scary, because he's seen the way he acts around Miyano, who doesn't seem to think he’s anything close to intimidating, but he's also Miyano's boyfriend, a term that feels—he shouldn't say it's strange. It shouldn't be any stranger than Kuresawa's girlfriend—bad example, because Kuresawa’s so weird, and Shirahama’s suddenly, overwhelmingly relieved that Miyano doesn’t make hour-long professions of his love—but the thought rests uncomfortably in his head. It's like there's an itch he doesn't know how to scratch.

flailing dying etc etc. how strange shirahama, care to examine why that may be? perhaps in front of an audience of many psychological researchers? for my curiosity's sake.

Sasaki takes the time to inspect him now, squinting at him with a look that’s not akin to judgement but does feel like some kind of thing, and Shirahama would be embarrassed about his inarticulacy if he wasn't already beyond embarrassed with himself. Though he's always hated the feeling of assessment, he does his best to not squirm under Sasaki’s gaze. What Sasaki's likely remembering is the strange hanger-on to Tashiro's high-five run and jump, but even if that's banal in comparison to, say, the date-spying—which is mortifying in retrospect and has given him an eternal respect towards Hanzawa, though he’ll never vocalize this to anyone for fear of the result—something about recognition is just sour.

first of all: hanzawa mention yoooo

second of all: i think we should start a countdown on how long it takes before shirahama starts to disintegrate into dust. mans is not lasting through this conversation lmao

“Ah,” Sasaki finally says, snapping a cord of tension in Shirahama's shoulders. “You're on the basketball team.”

A strange flush scatters across his neck. “You remembered that?” His voice cracks at the last word, and he tacks on a whispered “Sorry!” that Sasaki accepts without fanfare.

hm. well then.

“…Kagiura, right?” His voice settles. “You were looking for him.”

At that, Sasaki falls silent.

cough. now what's that all about sasaki.

Shirahama almost offers to call up Kagiura, but they're not particularly close, and Sasaki's expression doesn't really read as “excited” or “pleased.” In fact it's kind of reading as “ticked off,” which doesn't bode well, because he's pretty sure that if he got into a fight with Miyano's boyfriend, he'd lose. Embarrassingly.

i dont think he can handle getting any more embarrassed rn he wont survive kiri spare my boy

also very interesting reaction sasaki. studying him like a bug.

Then, delivered in an unsettlingly flat voice: “I don't know him.”

lmao

“What?”

“Kagiura,” Sasaki clarifies, who indeed does say his teammate's name like he's never said those syllables in that order before. Come to think of it, he had called Kagiura by some kind of nickname, hadn't he? “I just… knew of him. Was just curious,” he mumbles.

lmaoooooo

“He does always get a bunch of confessions on Valentine's day,” Shirahama grumbles on instinct. Then he realizes there's a lot of terrible implications to that routine complaint and backtracks. “Not that—”

shirahama your phrasing!!! these guys are gonna kill me lmaooo

“He's popular?”

He feels, suddenly—not actually suddenly but an ebbing and flowing always—wrong-footed. “…Yeah?”  Huh, Miyano's boyfriend is kind of a weird guy. Whether this thought puts Sasaki squarely in the space of “not scary” is debatable. But it is some kind of comfort.

HELP. so true shirahama you get it.

There’s a rustling sound by the bed. The room falls silent in an instant, and Shirahama finds that he’s locked eyes with Sasaki. Something like meaning almost passes through there, but before Miyano's boyfriend can say something about needing him to be silent, or his unnecessary check-in, or his unwelcome presence, Shirahama tumbles out excuses in rush of whispers. “I’ve still got to help out with the festival—just thought I’d check—I’m sure you have it handled—I’m going to—I'll go.”

channeling my inner hirano here, sasaki dont try to project your thoughts into the people around you because of your boyfriend. that scares and confuses people.

but anyways shirahama kyouji takes his tactical retreat from whatever that was to probably spontaneously combust, more at ten.

He stumbles out of the office, thankful he hadn’t even taken two steps past the entrance, and closes the door as quietly as he can. His mouth is so dry he’s not sure any of those words he'd said were audible. It’s entirely likely he stood there, gaping and sputtering like a dying fish, before running away.

run shirahama run!! but you'll still be stuck in the same place in the end.

No one's there to look at his expression and tell him. Shirahama's glad for it and the fact that there's no mirrors in the hallway—the last person he wants to look at is himself.

and with that last sentence its time to begin burying myself in the ground. maybe put some purple irises around me to give it some color. anywho.

this is SO AWESOME KIRI!!! like i say this everytime i read something you write (because it's true) but you really did something so amazing here. i love the constant tension and conflict inside of shirahama that he doesnt, or maybe just refuses to, understand. i love sleeping miyano haunting the narrative in a way. i love the awkwarness between sasaki and shirahama who dont really know each other at all. i just loved all of this!!!

something there.

hello shiramiya fans. got inspired by ch 51 to write something. it is under the cut but you can also read it on ao3

—

On some level, Shirahama’s always been aware that he’s weak-willed. But this—this feels like something else. “Tashiro,” he says. “I'm going to slack off.”

“For the last time, I'm not—what?” Tashiro cuts his complaint short, turning to face Shirahama with a searching look.

Whatever this is, it sucks, that’s for sure. He grits his teeth. “I'm just—I have to dip out for a second.”

“Huh,” Tashiro says, the word suffused with both carelessness and judgement. His eyes flicker around their surroundings, and he adds, “Okay. It's not too busy, anyways… did you ask—”  

“I already asked Karasubara.”

“Then what are you still doing here?”

It’s a good question, but it’s not one that has an answer. It’s just—it probably isn’t anything serious, but Miyano hadn’t looked great, and what if it is serious? Even if his boyfriend’s taking care of him, it’ll be good for Miyano’s classmates to know how he’s doing. And that way he—they—won't worry.

“I don't know,” he says, and because he’s vindictive: “Why didn't you compete in the crossdressing contest this year? You seemed so pumped about it last time.”

Tashiro's hands stray to his hair, and he twirls a loose strand around his fingers. It vaguely strikes Shirahama that it’s not dissimilar to one of the sprites of the sporty basketball girl he’d romanced last week. “I didn't want to shave my leg hair,” he says, even though last year Miyano hadn’t shown a single inch of his leg.

Tashiro’s just non-committal like that, Shirahama supposes—even now, he likes to act as if his ping pong captaincy just “happened” like an accident. He's spent three long-suffering years on the basketball team—he knows the apathy Tashiro unintentionally or purposefully projects is deceptive.

“What are you waiting for?” Tashiro asks, pulling him out of his thoughts. “Go.”

It’s enough of a push, and crucially: it feels like enough of an excuse.

—

There are too many people inside this school. Shirahama can hear Tashiro's voice in his head still, the strange wry twist that he'd clearly picked up from someone else, paired with his evergreen bluntness—what did you think was going to happen at a cultural festival?

I wasn't thinking, he replies in his head, aware that it's a horribly strange conversation to be having, and the kind of shameless, setup-to-punchline answer he'd never give in real life. But when he'd thought about the decorations, he'd mostly thought about having something that would look nice, feel nice, and have their class at ease. He hadn't been thinking about all the other people that would be milling about.

If they're staring at him, he certainly isn't going to chance making eye contact. So he ducks his head and soldiers on towards the relatively isolated nurse’s office, and in a sudden fit of bravery pauses for only a moment before opening the door. That courage immediately leaves him when the door opens with a sharp creak and he startles, hold almost slipping from the doorknob, but it's the pathetic thought that counts. Or something.

As he's about to slip in and shut the door behind him, a rustle sounds from one of the beds. The breath leaves Shirahama's chest, and he watches as Miyano's boyfriend—Sasaki, that was his name—emerges from the curtains, hair wild in a way that reads more like “bedhead” than “artfully tousled”—not that he'd say it was ever artful, but he's got no place to be critiquing Miyano's boyfriend's hairstyle…

—and speaking of. Sasaki’s staring at him. He sure is tall—for a moment Shirahama wonders why he'd never played basketball, but it’s the kind of wonder that’s paired with utter relief at the nonexistent situation. Then he feels very strange about that thought until Sasaki, with the sedate aura of someone who’s just woken up, blinks at him as if to communicate something.

Shirahama stares back, caught like a deer in headlights.

“Close it quietly,” Sasaki says. Shirahama finally re-registers that his hand is hanging slack on the doorknob. “He's sleeping.” His voice is low, smooth, and deliberately softened to the point that Shirahama has to strain to hear it.

He wavers in the still-open entrance; his legs don't let him run away. The door closes with a soft click, but it may as well be a marching drum.

“I just… came to check in on him,” Shirahama says, too many beats late, careful to pitch his voice just above a whisper. He's not sure he manages. It's the “too many people” thing again, only concentrated—somehow, he’s the one out-of-place in a school he's attended for two and a half years.

Sasaki nods. “Thanks for looking out.”

“Oh… no problem.” He represses the urge to throw up his hands in a sign of “I come in peace,” but he doesn’t know what else to do with them, so they hang limply and indecisively in front of him. Miyano's boyfriend is—it would be rude to say that he's scary, because he's seen the way he acts around Miyano, who doesn't seem to think he’s anything close to intimidating, but he's also Miyano's boyfriend, a term that feels—he shouldn't say it's strange. It shouldn't be any stranger than Kuresawa's girlfriend—bad example, because Kuresawa’s so weird, and Shirahama’s suddenly, overwhelmingly relieved that Miyano doesn’t make hour-long professions of his love—but the thought rests uncomfortably in his head. It's like there's an itch he doesn't know how to scratch.

Sasaki takes the time to inspect him now, squinting at him with a look that’s not akin to judgement but does feel like some kind of thing, and Shirahama would be embarrassed about his inarticulacy if he wasn't already beyond embarrassed with himself. Though he's always hated the feeling of assessment, he does his best to not squirm under Sasaki’s gaze. What Sasaki's likely remembering is the strange hanger-on to Tashiro's high-five run and jump, but even if that's banal in comparison to, say, the date-spying—which is mortifying in retrospect and has given him an eternal respect towards Hanzawa, though he’ll never vocalize this to anyone for fear of the result—something about recognition is just sour.

“Ah,” Sasaki finally says, snapping a cord of tension in Shirahama's shoulders. “You're on the basketball team.”

A strange flush scatters across his neck. “You remembered that?” His voice cracks at the last word, and he tacks on a whispered “Sorry!” that Sasaki accepts without fanfare.

A light shrug. “Just happened to.”

Shirahama throws his memory back to the interaction. He remembers the stray basketball, for sure, but on review something clicks into place. “…Kagiura, right?” His voice settles. “You were looking for him.”

At that, Sasaki falls silent.

Shirahama almost offers to call up Kagiura, but they're not particularly close, and Sasaki's expression doesn't really read as “excited” or “pleased.” In fact it's kind of reading as “ticked off,” which doesn't bode well, because he's pretty sure that if he got into a fight with Miyano's boyfriend, he'd lose. Embarrassingly.

Then, delivered in an unsettlingly flat voice: “I don't know him.”

“What?”

“Kagiura,” Sasaki clarifies, who indeed does say his teammate's name like he's never said those syllables in that order before. Come to think of it, he had called Kagiura by some kind of nickname, hadn't he? “I just… knew of him. Was just curious,” he mumbles.

“He does always get a bunch of confessions on Valentine's day,” Shirahama grumbles on instinct. Then he realizes there's a lot of terrible implications to that routine complaint and backtracks. “Not that—”

“He's popular?”

He feels, suddenly—not actually suddenly but an ebbing and flowing always—wrong-footed. “…Yeah?”  Huh, Miyano's boyfriend is kind of a weird guy. Whether this thought puts Sasaki squarely in the space of “not scary” is debatable. But it is some kind of comfort.

There’s a rustling sound by the bed. The room falls silent in an instant, and Shirahama finds that he’s locked eyes with Sasaki. Something like meaning almost passes through there, but before Miyano's boyfriend can say something about needing him to be silent, or his unnecessary check-in, or his unwelcome presence, Shirahama tumbles out excuses in rush of whispers. “I’ve still got to help out with the festival—just thought I’d check—I’m sure you have it handled—I’m going to—I'll go.”

He stumbles out of the office, thankful he hadn’t even taken two steps past the entrance, and closes the door as quietly as he can. His mouth is so dry he’s not sure any of those words he'd said were audible. It’s entirely likely he stood there, gaping and sputtering like a dying fish, before running away.

No one's there to look at his expression and tell him. Shirahama's glad for it and the fact that there's no mirrors in the hallway—the last person he wants to look at is himself.

[gotta-winwin]

(🪽) ... to the stars

⭐ starring: jeonghan

🪽preview: “I love you, angel.” He whispered, pressing a light kiss against your lips when you finally found the courage to let him go. He hesitated, face inches from yours, as if he was debating whether or not to go in for a second kiss. He retracted in the end, standing up straight and grabbing his various bags. He knew that if he kissed you a second time, he’d lose all self control and you’d end up in bed with your clothes off, and him, very late. 

“I’ll be back soon!” He called as he entered the car, a smiling Seungcheol waving to you as he helped Jeonghan bring his bags in. “Don’t die because you miss me too much!” 

The last thing you see before they drive off is Jeonghan’s dazzling smile, his shining eyes and his clean cut hair.

tw/cw: talk of the "e" word, oral f!receiving, manhandling, surprise sex, jeonghan gets buff after training, mention of female + male parts, jeonghan goes kinda feral, overstim!

🪽rating: 18+ | word count: 2.1k

☁️ masterlist & a/n: i really can't believe it's only been two months since jeonghan enlisted it feels like FOREVER and WAY TOO LONG. also - first try at full on smut so...was giggling while writing this i had way too much fun. let me know how ya'll feel! smut starts in ch 4

MINORS DNI

if you don't like it, don't interact!

(🪽)

The dreaded “e-word” has haunted both you and Jeonghan since the start of your relationship. The stupid prospect of enlistment gnawed at both your insides, like an impending doomsday clock - ticking, ticking away at your time together. 

Maybe you were being dramatic - but if tour was painful for the two of you, enlistment would surely kill. 

“At least one good thing came out of me injuring my shoulder.” Jeonghan quipped, stretching lazily over your legs as you laid in bed. “I’ll be on duty, but I get to go home every night.” He stared up at you with playful eyes. “It’ll basically be a nine to five, after my basic training is complete.” 

Returning the playful look, you scrunched your nose, relishing the last few days with him next to you. “I guess.” You hummed, reaching a hand to run your fingers through his long hair. You’d be seeing his precious locks go tomorrow, and the loss felt like losing a baby. You had basically raised his perfect, luscious hair yourself - a handful of his hair products being yours. You’d miss picking out his monthly hair colors as well. (Red hair Jeonghan was by far still your greatest achievement).

“Don’t be sad, angel.” He closed his eyes as you massaged his hair, eyelashes fluttering against his cheek. “It’s not like I’m leaving forever.” 

“You’re not very upset about it.” You pouted, feeling slighted by the way he seemed so unbothered. “You must think you’re not going to miss me very much, Hannie.” Your tone was teasing and light, although the insecurity was very much real. 

“I am going to miss you.” He admitted, squinting open an eye to look at you. “Don’t twist my words.” 

Jeonghan fell silent when you didn’t reply, hands still absentmindedly threading themselves through his hair. He watched you with careful eyes, knowing your nerves were frayed from enlistment stress. More like the absence of Jeonghan stress, he thought bitterly. He hated leaving you as much as you hated him leaving. 

“You should just move in.” 

Your next words caught him off guard as he looked up at you, blinking. It was rare to catch Jeonghan speechless. Usually equipped with witty comebacks, Jeonghan’s silence worried you as you sat up straight, moving him off your lap. “It’s just an idea.” Your voice shrank, knowing it was a big move. You hadn’t been dating for very long - two years - but still, not long enough to guarantee a move in. 

Having been nudged off your legs, Jeonghan sat up. “You think I should?” He asked, grabbing your hand and enveloping it in his.

You nodded.

“I guess it makes sense.” He had a coy smile on his face as he inwardly cooed at your shyness. “Then I’ll get to see your pretty face everyday instead of Seungkwan.”

“A much better upgrade.” You quipped at the younger boy’s expense, nodding along, big question jitters disappearing. “And half of your stuff is already here anyways.” 

“I love you.” He suddenly blurted out, although it sounded so beautifully normal and welcomed. His ears turned red, having not expected himself to say what he was thinking out loud. 

“I love you too, Hannie.”

(🪽🪽)

“If you mess up my hair I’m leaving you.” 

Frowning extra hard at his words, you steadied yourself, clippers at the ready as you analyzed his black locks. “If you don’t trust me you should’ve gone to your stylist.” You chided, pushing back a mop of his hair - rather roughly in retaliation. 

Whining, he glared at you through the mirror. “Brute.” He mumbled under his breath, a little apprehensive about agitating you further. You were the one with the clippers, after all. 

“Stop glaring at me or I’ll render you bald.” You threatened, eyeing him in challenge, the clippers in your hand coming to life as you began. “Hold still.” 

There was something strangely emotional about the whole process, as you watched tufts of Jeonghan’s hair fall to the ground around you. At least he didn’t have to get it super short - you really might have cried then - although the ceremonious feeling of it all still brought unwanted tears to your eyes. 

“It’ll grow back.” His quiet voice reminded you, pouting when he saw your glistening eyes and the way you were staring at his hair. “It’s not permanent.” 

“I know.” You mumbled, running your hands through his now short hair, more tears threatening to spill over when it just didn’t feel the same as before. “Let me mourn.” 

He laughed, although you saw him staring at himself in the mirror, his own eyes melancholic and equally wet. “Sometimes I think you’re only dating me for my hair.”

Pursuing your lips, you bit back a smile. “It’s definitely a plus.”

(🪽🪽🪽)

You had always hated long goodbyes.

They seemed too fruitless, so unnecessary and awkward to execute. You had always been a strong believer of a quick wave, a brief hug, or perhaps a quick exchange of pleasantries. 

However, once it was time to say goodbye to Jeonghan as he stood, packed and ready for his mandatory training camp, you wished goodbyes could last forever. 

“You’re going to have to let me go someday.” Jeonghan’s voice was muffled as he spoke through your hair. 

Your hold around him only tightened at his words, arms looping firmly around his neck. You inhaled, breathing him in - the light scent of pomegranates and the ocean tide. “Please don’t go.” It sounded pathetic, the way your voice broke near the end, but a part of you felt like maybe he wasn’t going to come back. Stupid. You chided yourself. Of course he’ll come back. 

“You’re going to make me cry.” Jeonghan mumbled, pulling you into him tighter - although it was nearly impossible, with the way you were already pressed up against him. He bit the insides of his cheek, holding back the tears because he knew someone had to keep it together during this goodbye - and it wasn’t going to be you. Burrowing his face deeper into your nape, he wished selfishly there was a way for him not to leave. Holding you tighter, he knew that if there was a way to crawl inside you and live there - he would. “I’ll write to you.” He promised.

It was a silly idea with the existence of technology, but Jeonghan was adamant to hand write his letters while serving - something about it being more personable. It’ll give you something to look forward to, he explained, although you told him that him coming home was enough. The letters were just as sweet though. 

“I love you, angel.” He whispered, pressing a light kiss against your lips when you finally found the courage to let him go. He hesitated, face inches from yours, as if he was debating whether or not to go in for a second kiss. He retracted in the end, standing up straight and grabbing his various bags. He knew that if he kissed you a second time, he’d lose all self control and you’d end up in bed with your clothes off, and him, very late. 

“I’ll be back soon!” He called as he entered the car, a smiling Seungcheol waving to you as he helped Jeonghan bring his bags in. “Don’t die because you miss me too much!” 

The last thing you see before they drive off is Jeonghan’s dazzling smile, his shining eyes and his clean cut hair. 

(🪽🪽🪽🪽)

You would have compared him to a feral animal - the way he pounced on you upon his arrival home. 

“I missed you so fucking much, angel.” He groaned, arms pulling you against him without warning, giving you no time to register his appearance. 

“Hannie.” His name came out as more of a moan as his fingers dipped, drifting towards the band of your sweats and delving under. “When- when did you get home?” 

“Got to leave earlier than expected.” He mumbled against your neck, thoroughly distracted by the way you were softening under his grasp. He had forgotten how beautiful you looked, falling apart at his fingertips. “Been waiting.” He gasped out, pulling your hair so his lips could meet yours. “No idea how much I missed you.” 

“Hannie.” His name was all you could say, all you could even think about. His every being enveloped your senses as you felt your back press up against the hallway wall. “Hannie.”

“Yes, angel?” He dipped to his knees, gazing up at you with the coy smile you had missed so much. “Tell me what you want.”

“You, Hannie.” You whined, and you knew it was embarrassing how fast you were complying. “Want - need you.” 

He let out a breathy chuckle, holding you by your thighs and pulling your sweats and underwear off in one fluid motion. You didn’t miss the tiny whimper that fell quietly from his lips - finally face to face with the sweet pussy he had dreamed of each night after training. It had tortured him, not being able to feel you, to hold you, to see you. Military training had taught him a lot of things - although the greatest lesson he took away was how much of a privilege you were. Losing access to both you and the pussy that always took him so well had been maddening. 

He paused, smirking when you bucked into his hand, impatient. 

“Hurry up, Hannie.” You scolded, half annoyed but mostly pleading. “Hannie.” 

As if the repeat of his name had woken him up from the daze he had found himself under - some spell, Jeonghan glanced up at you with hooded eyes before diving in, tongue working against your folds. It was obscene, the wet sounds coming from you, mixed with his pants and muffled groans. He all but buried himself into your heat - fulfilling his wish of crawling inside of you - in the most perverted yet terribly arousing way. 

The sounds of both satisfaction and pleasure coming from you only spurred him on, eating you out with one goal in mind: to make you finish, to finally drown himself in your scent after two long weeks without you next to him.

“Fuck- Hannie.” The only coherent words falling from your lips was a long string of curses, followed by a loud whine of his name. “I’m gonna - fuck.” 

You felt the mess before you saw it, as you gripped his hair for leverage, legs shaking as you steadied yourself against the wall. A gush of release spurted from you, coating his face as he lapped, unbothered by the slick. 

“Hannie -” Legs shaking, threatening to collapse, you pushed at his head. “Too much-” 

It was like he was trying to devour you whole. 

“Hannie-” You cried out, cumming again - a visceral reaction from the amount of attention his tongue was giving to your cunt and the constant stimulations from his nose bumping against your clit. 

He finally looked up as he drank the last drops of juice from your pussy, eyes shining in satisfaction as he smirked up at you. “Did you miss me?” 

You were glad his cockiness had not escaped him during his military training. Tugging harshly at his hair, you all but collapsed into his arms, pressing a feathery light kiss against the side of his neck. “You beast.” You mumbled, earning a loud laugh from him as he moved you both to the living room, wiping his face with a cloth before coming to clean you. 

It was then that you finally got to get a good look at him. You laid on the couch, eyes following his every movement as he wiped in between your legs with his usual gentle and care. 

He was built. Stronger, somehow broader and more defined then you remembered him being. His shoulders and arms flexed as he worked, and you caught a sight of his carved thighs and the damp tent in his pants as he stood up, leaving to throw the now sullied cloth away. 

“Hannie?” You called after him, feeling your desire return just by the glimpses of his new physique. 

“Yes, angel?” His head poked out from the doorway, returning next to you as he lay down, once again situating himself in between your legs. His nose bumped against yours as he looked at you with gentle, loving eyes - a straight contrast to the callouses, rough hands that were now roaming your chest.

“What did mandatory training do to you?” You asked, running a hand down his arm and squeezing his bicep. “Did they like- make you pull cars or something?” 

His hands went self-consciously to grab his own biceps, a large hand covering yours as he blushed. “No, it was just a lot of working out.” He smiled, raising his eyebrows suggestively. “What? You like what you see?”

“Very, very much.” You admitted, liking how he basked under the praise. “Not that I didn’t like your body before- but this is…” You paused, trying to find the right word to describe the delectable human being sitting in front of you that you knew could ruin you on a whole nother level. “Different.” 

Jeonghan smirked. “If you think this is different, you should see what’s under my clothes, angel.” 

masterlist

[theanimeoftheblackbunnymask]

Transitions (Yandere Dazai x Reader)

Author's Note: This is based on the idea I had on how it would feel to be going from PM!Dazai's behavior towards his darling to ADA!Dazai's behavior. I also think people forget that Dazai was a teenager while he was in the Port Mafia, so reader is also around his age.

Warnings: Implied Non-Con, Mental Abuse, Physical Abuse, Torture, Emotional Abuse, Gaslighting, Manipulation, Delusions, Child Abuse, Assault, Implied Murder, PTSD, Panic Attacks Mentioned, Mental Breakdowns, Suicide Dicussed, Teasing, Mocking, and Sadism.

Links: {Masterlist} {Idea Concept}

Is it possible for a man like Dazai to change?

That was the only thing on your mind. You had been stuck with the man for years, you can remember the day of your abduction perfectly.

It was quick.

You were walking home from work. After your mother lost her job it became quite hard for her to pay the bills, so you picked up a job at the local grocery store. Balancing both High School and Work was no easy task. Your normal schedule was going to school until 3, tutoring until 4, and from 4 to 11 it was straight work. You'd often have to pull all nighters just to do assignments.

The day of your abduction was the day all those all nighters caught up with you. You walked with a drag, your vision blurred as you tried to stay awake, and every few seconds you'd let out a yawn. Normally you'd take the bus home or one of your co-workers would give you a ride, but recently you guys had grown short on staff, making you the only worker that night, and since it was a holiday the bus was running on a different schedule. Knowing what you knew about Dazai, he planned this all perfectly.

As you were walking you bumped into him, and maybe it was your exhaustion, but the moment you bumped into his chest you fell into his arms, your body going limp as he held you tightly.

That was the day you lost all freedom.

-----------------------------

"Wake up Princess/Princie~"

Opening your eyes, staring down at you was a suspiciously happy Dazai. You only stared at him as he sat next to you on the bed. When he initially kidnapped you, you were kept in a cell in the Port Mafia base.

You still remember how cold it was in there. The blood. The noise. Everything that took place in that cell still haunts you to this day. The very reminder of it sends a chill down your spine.

Now, the room you were kept in was actually a room. A queen sized bed in the middle, a vanity in the corner, a closet next to it, and on the other side of the room was a door that led to the bathroom. The room was decorated to your liking, but the only downside was the massive window that was barred up, forever reminding you of a freedom so close yet so far from your grasp.

"What's the matter? You still mad at me?" Dazai asked in his infamous baby voice, putting his hands on your cheeks in order for you to meet his gaze.

You only turned you head away, keeping your mouth shut.

Letting out a sigh, Dazai spoke. "Hey, don't be like that, Y/N."

You still didn't budge.

"You know that bastard deserved it."

"Did he, Dazai? Did he?" You snapped, now sitting up.

"Traitors don't live, Y/N," Dazai said nonchalantly as he got off the bed. "You should know that better then anyone."

You do.

"Why are you up so early?" You asked.

"The boss has a mission for Chuuya and I. I should be back around midnight, so you can do whatever you want in here until then!"

"Dazai."

"Hm?"

"Can I...," You paused, clenching your fist. "Ask you something?"

"Of course my dear! Ask away."

"When...when will you let me out?"

You felt energy in the room switch as Dazai's face dropped.

"Oh...My sweet, little Y/N," Dazaj cooed as he made his way towards you, gently grabbing your face. "You're a smart girl/boy. I know you know the awnser to that. Or will I have to remind you?"

His question immediately struck you with fear as you look up to him in a panic. Your hands shook as you tried to get him hands off your face, but his nails only dug further.

"Will I?"

The bloodlust in his tone. The emptiness in his eyes. It's all too familiar.

"No...no! I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry. I'm sorry for asking, just please..." You pleaded as you gripped your hair, you eyes fixated on your lap as memories flooded your mind. "Not again.'

You could sense the smirk on his face as he kissed your forehead. "Smart choice. "

As you watched him leave through the exit of your prison, you could feel a tear roll down your face as the door slammed shut.

------------------------------

Chuuya was the only person in the entire Port Mafia who you felt cared at least a little bit about your situation. Besides you and Mori, he knew just how cruel Dazai could be, and whenever he spotted whatever bandages were on your body, for the quickest second you could see sympathy in his eyes. You remember one time he found you crying in your cell after one of Dazai's punishments. Your body was in so much pain that you could barely move, and your mind was scattered that you couldn't even think straight. You were naked and cold, but your skin burned in pain.

Tilting his head down, using his hat to hide his gaze, Chuuya quietly opened the cell, laid his coat over you, and walked out just as quickly and quietly as he had entered.

However, you kept your fondness of Chuuya a secret from Dazai. You knew Dazai would never kill Chuuya even if he found out about his acts of kindness. Jealous? Most likely. Angry? Definitely not. Dazai saw and knew everything you did, every thought you had, you knew that he most likely knew. He was always watching you, or at least he made you believe so.

And that was why you haven't escaped yet.

The thing is, escaping Dazai is easy, stupidly easy, but staying free was damn near impossible. He could find you in a matter of seconds, or you would run back before he realized you were gone. You see, there was 1 time you escaped Dazai, and it was a moment that you would never forget. He made sure of that.

It was a week after your abduction. You were able to notice that everytime Dazai left for a mission, he'd never lock your door. So, when he told you that he'd be gone for a couple of days in order to complete a mission, you took that as your chance.

You were able to make it to the city were you wandered around for a bit. Eventually your exhaustion caught up to you, so you seemed refuge in a random motel after pretty guilt tripping the owner into letting you spend the night.

You feel bad that owner.

In the middle of the night, the motel caught, and by the time you woke up, Dazai was staring down at you, his empty eyes staring into yours.

Up until this point Dazai hadn't done anything to you. The most he would do was come into your cell and cuddle you for hours on end while telling you about his day. He seemed so soft despite the vibe he gave off. Sometimes he'd drag you to meeting with him where he'd nuzzle into your neck. But, this mistake flipped a switch a switch in him.

You lost your innocence that night.

Bruises, cuts, and bites littered your body, and all you did afterwards was hug your knees and stare blankly into space. Nothing could break you out of of that state, anything to make you forget what happened, anything to forget the pain.

He didn't stop there though. Night after night he'd escalate things further and further. At one point he broke both of your legs, dislocated your shoulders, and broke your fingers. He made sure one of your fingers healed incorrectly just for it to be a permanent reminder. And didn't stop at physical stuff either.

For nights on end he'd force you stay awake, and he'd play mind games with you too. He'd force you to complete nearly impossible task in your exhausted state, and then mock you to tears when you couldn't do them.

He did this for days just to teach you a lesson. When the lesson was over you were broken in, just like that. In the span of two weeks you became his lap dog, and he was disappointed at how easily you broke. I mean, why wouldn’t it be easy? You were only 16.

Any escape attempt after this would result in a panic attack. You would run back to your room where Dazai would be waiting, and while you had tears rolling down your cheeks, you'd run into his arms in order to seek even a little bit of comfort.

After a week of isolation, it was like another switch happened in Dazai. One day he came down to your cell and just broke down. You had never seen the man cry before. He then hugged you while spitting out a bunch of apologies.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I just..." Dazai started before his voice lowered into a whisper, his gaze fixated on the floor. "I never wanted to hurt you...never. I was just so... I'm sorry. I'll take care of everything, ok?"

Sometimes you forget he's just like you, a kid. A sadistic, scarily intelligent kid, but a kid none the less. You soon learned why he kidnapped you, what his motive was.

He wanted to feel something. Anything. The boy was hallow, a cunning killing machine. His entire personality was an act. If you were to cut him open, you'd find nothing. And somehow, he gravitated towards you.

--------------------------

"Do you enjoy living?"

Dazai laid his head in your lap, his arms wrapped your waist as you ran your fingers through his hair. In the past couple months things have cooled down. You've lost any hope of escaping or for him to become any less cruel, so now you just follow his commands. Life has been easier this way, not enjoyable, but easier.

"Hm?" You responded, meeting his gaze.

"Your life. Everyday was the same thing. School, tutoring, work. Did you enjoy any of it?"

"Well, no, but it was worth it. Whenever I'd come home my mom would always be waiting for me at the dining table. Even as she got worse, she still was always there no matter how late I got home. And when I showed her my first paycheck," You face soften in remembrance. "The smile on her face made it all worth it."

Dazai was silent for a few moments for snuggling against your stomach.

"Humans confuse me."

You knew better than to ask him to elaborate. It's not because he'd be mad or anything, but you knew his awnser would leave you sleepless.

A life with Dazai was a life with uncertainty, unpredictability. Some days he'd be this soft little thing, clinging onto you like a baby and craving all your attention, whining when he didn't get it. But on other days, he'd force you to witness the execution of Mafia members, drag you on life threatening missions, use you as a pawn on missions, and force you witness his cruelty first hand.

Sometimes it's hard to believe he loves you. Sometimes you think you're just a pawn in his game.

--------------------------

Akutagawa hated your guts.

You got Dazai's praise, attention, and approval, and you did nothing to earn it. Anytime you looked at him, you see the hatred in his eyes.

A year after your abduction, Dazai started bringing you to his little trainings with Akutagawa, and you had one rule: Don't get close.

Seeing his treatment of the boy made you believe that you hadn't experienced the worse of his torment.

One day you couldn't watch it anymore. Dazai had kicked the boy so hard that he was coughing up blood.

"Get up," Dazai commanded coldly, slowly making his way towards the boy.

He was so weak that he could barely support his weight. They had been going at this for hours now.

"A weak dog is dead dog," Dazai said, pulling his gun out from his coat. "And dogs like you, don't deserve to be in the Port Mafia."

You watched as Akutagawa slammed his eyes shut as he gritted his teeth, preparing himself for death.

"STOP!"

You had hugged Dazai from behind, hugging him tightly as you looked up at him with teary eyes. His eyes remained cold as he looked down at you.

"Please...stop. Give the boy a break."

Dazai still looked down at you silently.

"For me, please."

You felt relief wash over you body as you heard Dazai let out a sigh.

"Fine," Dazai said with an annoyed yet defeated look on his face, turning around as he wrapped his arm around your shoulder, throwing the gun in the process. "Don't think I'll be easy on you next time, Akutagawa."

---------------------------

The day Dazai left the Port Mafia is a day that you can never forget.

When he came to your room, he looked tired. Both physically and mentally. He didn't say a word as he sat down next to you on the bed.

After a few moments of silence, he spoke.

"Odasaku is died."

You felt your soul leave your body as those words left his mouth. You had met Oda a few times whenever Dazai would drag you to the bar with him, and he always treated you with kindness. He'd often scold Dazai for his treatment of you, but Dazai always ignored him.

You liked Oda, him and Chuuya made your life a little bit more enjoyable with their kindness.

You stayed silent at Dazai's words. Dazai didn't look like he was here, completely spaced out from the world. You had never seen Dazai like this, and it honestly scared you.

Scooting over next to him, you hesitantly wrapped your arms around his neck.

"Dazai?"

You didn't know if it was grief or what, but you never saw Dazai like this. You didn't know what to do. If you didn't do anything he could punish you once he became stable, or if you did the wrong thing he'd also punish you later. You were lost, you were confused, and you were scared.

"I'm leaving the Port Mafia."

"...What?"

"I'm leaving the Port Mafia," Dazai said before turning to look at you. The emptiness in his eyes sent a chill down your spine. "And you're coming with me."

What happened after that was a blur. All you remember was walking out of the Port Mafia building with a small backpack on, with Dazai holding you hand.

------------------------

The two of you had found an apartment and had been living there for awhile.

After Dazai left the Port Mafia he completely rebranded himself. He seemed so much livelier, so much happier, so much more energetic. You honestly like this new Dazai. You didn't know if if was an act or not, but at least he was treating you better.

One day he came home with a genuine smile on his face.

"Dazai?" You called out as you sat down in front of the TV, watching a show you started but never got finish due to your kidnapping.

"I got a job!" Dazai responded excitingly, sitting down next to on the couch.

"Really? Where?"

"At this detective agency for the gifted."

You were honestly caught off guard. Dazai, a detective? Never in all your days would you think Dazai of all people would help stop crime.

You did your best to hide your confusion though, mostly because you've never seen Dazai so happy. This happiness didn't seem fake, it looked genuine.

"That's nice," You replied, doing your best to put on a smile before going back to your show.

"Guess what I'm thinking, Y/N."

This wasn't going to be good. You just knew it.

"Um, what are you thinking, Dazai?"

"You're getting a job," Dazai said, a smirk on his face as he spoke.

You dropped the bowl of cereal you were eating in complete shock.

"What...?"

"Yeah, I think you should go out more, see new things, make friends, you know, normalcy and things like that."

He was messing with you. This had to be a test. He was testing your loyalty. He wanted to if you'd awnser correctly. The Dazai you know would never tell you this and mean it. Sure he was being a lot nicer now, but this is just like how he first kidnapped you. The calm before the storm.

"Um, no, I'm good," You responded, turning away from Dazai. "I don't wanna, I'm ok."

"...Don't lie to me, Y/N," Dazai said coldly, sending a chill down your spine.

What? You awnsered correctly though.

"W-What?" You asked, turning around to face Dazai.

"I know you want to go out. I know you want to see people again, make friends," Dazai responded as he got closer to you. You didn't dare to back away, but what he said next dazed you. "See your mother again."

You hadn't seen your mother in almost two years.

"You're lying."

"Nope, got her address and everything right here," Dazai said before pulling out a piece of paper.

You immediately leap towards the paper, but Dazai raised it above his head, just out of your reach.

"Nah uh uh, you get this paper if you promise me that you'll go out."

"I promise, I promise, just give me it!"

"Aye, don't be rude," Dazai said, flicking your forehead before handing you the paper.

This had to be a dream. This was way too good to be a dream.

------------------------------

You still can't go out.

The paper with all your mother's information on it haunts you as you sit on the couch, staring at the door as you hug your knees.

You don't know what it is. Dazai's at work most of the time during the day, leaving you alone most of the time. The doors are unlocked, hell, he even gave you a key, but you just can't leave. Everytime you get close to the door you feel your lungs collapse. Your throat closes, you mind gets scattered, you can't think straight.

One time you stuck your foot out and immediately flung into a panic attack. Your breath was short, mind racing. You remember slamming the door shut and crying on the floor until Dazai came home. Anytime you got close to the door, images of your past escapes would flash in your head. Each and every one of them ended with you facing Dazai's torment.

Yeah he left the Port Mafia, but Dazai is still Dazai. This is all one big test to see how much you've learned, the paper was just something to allure you into escaping. You weren't failing this time.

"Still on the couch?" Dazai asked, almost sounding disappointed and worried all at the same time as he sat next to you. "Remember our deal?"

"Take it," You said, your voice and eyes empty as you gave his the crumbled up piece of paper.

Dazai just stared at you as he took the paper. You couldn't tell what he was thinking.

"I passed your test," You continued before lying down on the couch.

Dazai didn't say anything after that. He just stood up and walked away, not even sparing you a glance.

Sitting in your shared bedroom, Dazai stared up at the ceiling as he spoke to himself.

"They’re not leaving willingly anytime soon. I conditioned them too well."

Dazai didn't even notice, but tears were starting to form in his eyes as he spoke.

"They're leaving. They're getting a life."

The next morning you didn't wake up on the couch like you thought, but instead you were sitting on a bench in the center of the city, the paper you gave Dazai in your hand.

"Huh? What? Where... How?" You couldn't even form a coherent sentence as you looked up at the city around you. It was all so overwhelming.

As you walked down the street you kept your head low, trying to balance your nerves as you stared at the address written on the paper. You've waited two whole years for this very moment, a moment you thought you would only be a dream has finally came true.

The apartment your mother had now lived in was far more rundown and ghetto than the last one the two of you shared. The neighborhood was dangerous and the complex was filthy.

As you stood infront of your mother's door, you didn't know what you were going to say to her. Where you going to tell her what happened or just leave her in the dark? You honest weren't sure. Before you could decide what you were going to say, your knuckles were already meeting against wood of the door.

"Hello, can I..."

Standing infront of you was your mother. She looked tired, like she hadn't slept in days. But, the moment your mother locked eyes with you, the two of you were left speechless.

The two of you didn't say a single word as you fell into your mother's arms. You didn't even realize tears were rolling down your face as you hid your head in your shoulder.

"Mama..."

That was all you could say. Your voice was cracking as you hugged your mother tighter, as if she was going to disappear if you didn't.

"Shhh, it's alright," Your mother said gently as she rubbed your back. Even when flooded with overwhelming emotions, your mother was always able to remain composed and calm you down. "What happened baby?"

"I'm sorry mama, I'm sorry I didn’t... I didn't want to leave."

"I know baby, I know."

"I didn't want to leave you mama. I never did. I didn't wanna go, but I couldn't come back."

"Shhhh, calm down, I know, it's ok. Come inside and I'll fix you something, ok?"

Rubbing your eyes, you weakly gave her your response. "Ok."

--------------------------

You never told your mother about Dazai or what truly happened. Anytime you'd get close to telling her, an image of Dazai's face would flash into your head and all those memories would come right back to you.

Your mother had made you your favorite, and at the moment it felt like the world didn't matter. It felt like you were back before everything happened, the time before all the pain, all the trauma, it felt, peaceful. And you couldn't remember the last time you felt true peace.

"What are going to do now?" Your mother asked, sitting down in front of you as you ate.

"I don't know. I need to get a job, but I don't know where to start."

"One of my friends daughters works in one of the stores at the mall, maybe I can get you in contact with them. That'd be nice, right?"

"Maybe."

"Where you living now?"

That question made your blood run cold. She couldn't find out about Dazai. Rebrand or not, Dazai was still Dazai, and you wouldn't let yourself be fooled into thinking otherwise. This wasn't the first time he's pulled something like this, but this time it was going on for a bit too long.

"An apartment downtown. The landlord is letting me live there rent free until I can get back on my feet."

"That's nice."

"Yes," You said before drinking you tea. "It's...nice."

-------------------

"Ah! You're back," Dazai said as he stood up from the couch, making his way to you.

"I'm sorry I'm sorry, I don't what happened but I woke up outside and-"

"Shhhh, I know everything. Was it nice?"

"...No."

"Be honest, Y/N."

"...It was... It was the nicest thing I've gotten in the past two years."

"That's what I thought," Dazai responded before caressing your cheek. "I want you getting out the house more. I won't punish you, I won't hurt you ever again, you have my word Y/N."

You stayed silent. Don't trust him.

"Y/N."

Don't trust him.

"I'm sorry."

Looking up at Dazai, your eyes widened as you saw tears build up in his eyes. Before you knew it, he was holding you tight, hiding his in your shoulder as he spoke.

"You didn't deserve it, you didn't deserve any of it. I love you with all of my heart, I don't know what I'd do without you. I won’t hurt you again, I won't let myself go that far. You are the sweetest person in the world and I corrupted you with my pain. I love you; I'm sorry that I hurt you, and I'll forever be sorry for that, even after I take my final breath."

--------------

It's been a few years since then, and a lot of things have changed. You've gotten a job at the mall and you've became best friends with your co-worker Jojo. The two of you always hang out after work and she's gotten you to go out more. You've made a few new friends but you still get anxious talking to people.

You've met Dazai's co-workers and they all adore you, this kid Atsushi especially. He seems to be Dazai's apprentice and he's always the first one to talk to you whenever you come by the agency.

Ranpo is kinda bratty but he's a really smart guy. You were pretty suprised you found out his age, but you like talking to him about mysteries and his latest jobs. He never fails to suprise you, but he always makes you feel stupid with his arrogance. He's the only one in the ADA that knows about your true history with Dazai, and it was simply by observing your guys' interactions. To the outside the two of you see normal, but Ranpo is able to notice the smallest details that made him figure out the dark history of you and Dazai.

You're pretty sure Kunikida has a crush on you. Any time the two of you talk he's always beet red and gets annoyed whenever Dazai comes along.

You enjoy talking with Kyoka, you're pretty sure she sees you as a big sister. She's always trying to impress you and likes to follow you around. One time you bought a kimono with one of your paychecks and she hugged you so tight that she didn't let go for an hour. For a stone faced child she's truly a sweetheart.

Akiko and you hang out all the time. The two of you often go shopping together and she was the one who explained how abilities worked to you. The two of you were at a bar when she explained it and you quite shocked to say the least. Dazai never explained it to you, it was more like something that was constantly brought up and you had to figure out how it worked on your own.

Now you and Dazai. To say in simple terms, your relationship is complicated. He doesn't hurt you physically, but he still plays mind games with you, but it's just not as obvious. The relationship feels more normal, but his obsessive tendencies still shine through despite his lack of violence. Anytime you go out he always implies that he'll know everything you do. At work, hang out, clubs, everything, he's always watching. So, despite your new found freedom, you're very anxious, and still don't interact with men that Dazai doesn't know. He even met your mother and she adores him. You still do your best to prevent her from finding out the truth about Dazai.

But, if you ignore all of his flaws, Dazai might as well be the perfect boyfriend. He always buys you gifts, takes you on dates, and actually does couple stuff with you. If you ignore the past and that feeling of anxiousness whenever you're with or without Dazai, you would say that you wouldn't ask for anything better.

Right?

[galactic-magick]

I Love You, I'm Sorry: Viktor x Reader

Based off of this reply on my last Viktor fic:

@lillycore : Duddee, imagine after the final scene between Viktor and Jayce they just disappear (I refuse to believe they both died, I’m just going believe, until it’s confirmed, that they simply teleported somewhere else), leaving reader alone without a chance to confront Viktor and believing they both died. So now, reader is left to pick up the pieces of her closest friend and love of her life gone, while believing Viktor no longer loves her (he does though, he was just a little confused with everything, but he still loves her)

Words: 1.2k

Author's Notes: Thank you all so much for the notes and kind words on my last Viktor fic, it truly means the world to me as a writer to see so many people touched by my writing. I hope you enjoy this equally devastating part 2.

They’re gone. They’re really gone.

No family, no friends, not a single loved one of yours survived this damn war. All this world has done is take, take, take.

You’re haunted by the last time you saw your beloved Viktor—completely unrecognizable. He had turned himself into a monster, disappearing with Jayce trying to save him. You didn’t even get to say goodbye, you didn’t even get to tell him you still love him.

Or ask if he still loved you.

You don’t know what would hurt less, believing he stopped loving you, or believing he did everything he did while loving you.

-

“Why can’t she hear me?” Viktor shouts into the void. He’s been calling your name for what feels like an eternity, his voice no longer carrying to your world.

Jayce puts a comforting hand on his shoulder, “You don’t have vessels to speak through anymore. She probably thinks we’re dead. Well, maybe we are…”

“No, no, this can’t be the end,” Viktor shakes his head vigorously. “I have to get back to her. She...she needs to know I love her. She needs to know I’m sorry.”

He falls to his knees amongst the stars, cursing himself for everything. How could he choose the hexcore over you? Why didn’t he seek you out when he survived the explosion? How did he let himself descend so far into madness that he forgot about your importance to him?

He’s now desperate for you to hear him, pleading the forces that bind his consciousness to this astral plane for another chance. He searches this dimension he’s come to know so well, looking for a loophole or tear in the fabric, but it’s no use. Everything has been closed—his supposed eternal consequence for his abuse of power.

Jayce saved him from himself, a feat he will forever be indebted to him for, but what is the point of redemption if he cannot live it out in his own flesh?

Would there have been a body left for him anyway? Would you still have loved him as the monstrosity he became?

Why must he still be cursed with the full vision of the universe? He sees you continue your life so clearly, but he can’t touch you, can’t speak to you. Your form shines the brightest light he’s ever seem in this dimension, an achievement that is not easily matched. He wonders if you can feel him reaching out to you, some sort of spiritual pull back to him. He will do anything to find a way to talk to you again.

-

You’ve been having dreams—dreams you can’t explain. Ever since Viktor’s disappearance, he’s tormented you day and night, constantly occupying your thoughts without mercy. You can hear his voice, but it sounds so far away you can never make out the words. You just wish it would all stop. You wish you could just erase him and all of the pain from your memory.

Sometimes you still feel a presence, the feeling you used to feel when he was in the same vicinity with you, admiring you from across a room. It’s a familiar warmth that used to wash you with peace, whereas now it makes your heart ache. You suppose it’s a normal symptom of grief, subconsciously denying that he’s really gone.

You start to go through his things he left at your house, beginning with his various textbooks and notebooks he would bring over for studying. Seeing his scribbles and handwriting again brings tears to your eyes, a single drop falling onto the paper as you read.

You blink a few times, seeing a couple of letters on the page start to glow. You must be seeing things, hallucinating from sleep deprivation. You close the journal and open it again, but the glowing letters are still there.

You grab a separate piece of paper and write down each glowing letter, finding fifteen total.

“I - L-O-V-E - Y-O-U - I-M - S-O-R-R-Y”

This isn’t happening. It can’t be.

-

“It’s working! She got my message!” Viktor exclaims.

“How...how are you doing that?” Jayce asks.

“Tiny rips in space—not big enough for either of us to escape through—but certainly big enough to briefly touch that reality,” Viktor pauses, still waiting for a response from you, but it doesn’t come.

-

You close the journal and sob, praying for an end to this misery. Your mind is playing tricks on you, deceiving you to a level you never thought possible. Must you be haunted by this forever? Must you endure the aftermath of this trauma?

You open it once again, the letters still glowing, but they start to fade right in front of your eyes. A new set of letters begin to glow, so you write those down as well.

“I-T-S - M-E - D-A-R-L-I-N-G”

And then another set of letters.

“P-L-E-A-S-E - T-A-L-K - T-O - M-E”

Maybe you’re not imagining.

You’ve heard of magicians who can converse with the dead, and the possibility of other dimensional planes and universes. Viktor himself had some theories about it, although he never pursued proving them. Could it really be possible that your beloved was speaking to you?

“Viktor?” you say out loud. “Are you...are you alive?”

“I - D-O-N-T - K-N-O-W”

The pencil drops from your hand again as your head falls to the table. His consciousness is somehow alive, clearly, but there’s no way he can explain to you where he is and how to get him out one letter at a time. You’re nowhere near his level of intellect—even if he explained how to rescue him like you’re five years old—you fear you still would mess something up.

“Viktor...I can’t do this. You can’t do this to me,” you sigh, daring to look at the words again. “You abandoned me, and now my life is a living hell because of the destruction you helped cause. I want nothing to do with your war and stupid glorious evolution. So if you’re not here to take me away from this life, please go away.”

The same original words start glowing again, brighter each time they sequence:

I love you, I’m sorry.

I love you, I’m sorry.

I love you, I’m sorry.

“Love doesn’t do what you did. Love doesn’t abandon its humanity for power.”

Please forgive me.

“I do forgive you for everything, Viktor. That’s exactly why I need to forget about you, because I will never stop loving you and hurting for it if I don’t.”

With blurry eyes, you close the journal and throw it into the fireplace, regretting it almost immediately. You grab a stick and pull it out, your tears falling onto the soot-stained cover.

“Please, just...find a way back to me.”

I will.

[teenidlegirl]

⠀⠀⠀ ౨౿  ׅ ۟   ֪ 𝓑eauty 𝓞f 𝓣his 𝓜ess⠀♡⠀𝓒hapter 𝓢ix ۪ ׂ   𓈒 ୭

꒰⠀⠀⟡⠀.⠀military!miguel⠀𝓍⠀fem!neighbor!reader⠀.⠀⟡⠀⠀꒱

⠀ ᰦ 󠄀 ྀ .⠀♥︎⠀summary.⠀your cheating ex-boyfriend joel comes back running to you after two years of pain he left you. he doesn’t get the hint that you want him gone until miguel steps in to help.

⠀ ᰦ 󠄀 ྀ .⠀♥︎⠀content.⠀angst, tension, arguments, swearing, mentions of cheating, ooc!joel (he’s a major selfish asshole in this), fandom crossover (image as pre-outbreak!joel), backstories

❛⠀ previous chapter⠀⋅⠀masterlist⠀⋅⠀next chapter ⠀❜

“what the fuck are you doing here?”

pure fury in your tone. piercing eyes as daggers, staring down into those brown eyes of betrayal. those same eyes you used to love but now despise.

the man you despise with every fiber of your being. the man who broke your heart. the man who betrayed you and cheated on you.

joel knew how this was gonna go yet he still flinched. the bastard actually flinched.

“i-i know this is unexpected but i—”

“no.” you step forward with a stern expression on your face, as if you’re ready to murder him on the spot. “you get fuck the out of here.”

joel hesitantly steps closer. “please i—”

“stay the fuck away from me.” you snarl, stepping back. “get the fuck out of here, now.”

a flash of guilt and hurt over his features. a big sigh escapes him. “i know i promised to stay away and i did- i just wanted to see—”

“no.” your voice drops an octave. “you do not get to come here and ask for forgiveness. i came here to get away from you.” you point at him with an aggressive finger. “away from the pain you caused.”

the guilt continues consuming him whole. the way his shoulders sag, guilt and regret settling on them like a throne. that horrendous night is haunts him to this day. the look of betrayal and hurt on your face that is forever ingrained in his mind.

“baby, please—”

“don’t call me that!” you shout, voice filled with anger. causing joel to wince and take a careful step back. “you lost the right to call me that when you fucked another woman.”

his heart aches but you’re right. everything about you he lost the right to. the endearments, touches, kisses, hugs, everything. joel forever regrets it. regrets touching another woman. regrets bringing another woman to the bed you used to sleep on. regrets approaching another woman. regrets listening to his stupid friend convincing to go talk to another woman. regrets drinking that night. his drunkness isn’t an excuse and joel knows that. he was a stupid asshole who wanted to fool around.

“two years, joel… two fucking years of freedom from you and the pain you left me. and now you trying to waltz back in and beg for forgiveness? to run back into my arms? you’re a fucking idiot.”

the audacity this fucker has to come running back to after two years and breaking your heart.

there’s no way in hell you’d ever forgive him.

“i’ve been healing over these past two years. i’ve been doing great, actually. and now you’re here. always good at fucking things up, huh?” you taunt.

he winced once more. that stabbed his heart, a million knives at once because it’s the truth.

“i know… i fuck up everything good in my life. the one good thing in my life.” his voice laced with pain and regret. “i just… i just wanted to see you…”

“well, you have now so get the fuck out of here.”

he has this pleading look on his idiotic face and you ain’t falling for it. “you left without telling anyone… i didn’t know you left state. i… i was looking for you but nobody told me where you were.”

“because i never told anyone.” you answer curtly. “i didn’t want anyone to know and anyone to tell you. why the fuck would i tell you after what you did?”

“you told sarah.”

you go quiet for a second. the fury still bubbling inside. “she’s the only one. i know she would never tell you because she hates you too.”

joel knows you’re right. when sarah found out about her dad’s disgusting behavior, she hated him since. still now to this day and joel doesn’t blame her.

you know sarah didn’t tell him. he must’ve heard it from someone else. now thinking about her, you miss her. she was like a daughter to you. recalling your time together, girl bonding days, pranking joel whenever he got home from work, helping her with her homework, talking about boys.

beautiful memories destroyed by joel’s hands.

it was hard to leave her behind. as if you were abandoning your own daughter. hell, if you could you would’ve taken her with you. you keep in contact with her once in a while. last time was six months ago. she’s been okay, busy with school.

after the whole cheating affair and your departure, sarah refused to stay home with her bastard cheating father. it was a long battle between them. she told you everything on the phone. turns out she has been staying with her uncle tommy, joel’s brother, and his wife maria for a year now. rarely visits joel as a way she still acknowledges him since she’s still his daughter, unfortunately.

“she doesn’t talk to me.” joel reveals solemnly, even though you already know. “she lives with tommy.”

you remain silent, desperately wanting this conversation to end and him to leave.

“she misses you, everyone misses you… i miss—”

“don’t.” you snarl. “don’t you fucking dare say that.”

joel whispers your name so softly, it makes your blood boil. you continue cutting him off, never letting him get the chance to say any bullshit.

“i can’t believe you have the fucking audacity to come here and say sorry after breaking my fucking heart. breaking your fucking promise to leave me alone but that’s what you’re good at, breaking promises.“ your tone raises, all of your fury spilling out. “i’m not gonna tell you again, fuck off.”

luna starts growling, specifically at joel. she growls whenever you’re angry, scared or danger is nearby.

joel stands there like the pathetic fuck he is, bullshit spilling out of his mouth. “i know- please—”

“back off, huevón.”

a third, familiar voice steps in. turning around, you see miguel standing there with a scowl on his face. staring down at joel with skeptical, cautious eyes. clenched fists hanging at his sides.

you are surprised yet… relieved he’s here.

joel, on the other hand, is completely caught off guard by a man with an intense bulky structure as if he is a bodybuilder. just so intimidating.

“who the hell are you?” joel asks, his expression matching miguel’s.

“a concern individual.” miguel answers curtly. “she isn’t going to tell you again, leave.”

the frown on joel’s deepens a little. “look, pal - i understand your concern and i promise i’m not bothering her in any way but this is a private conversation.” his tone remains civil yet a bit stern.

“yet you are bothering her by not leaving like she told you.” miguel rebuttals, slowly approaching and stands by your side. arms crossed over his chest.

oh shit - you recognize that pissed off look on joel’s face. he’s a man not to mess with, you’ve seen what he is capable of. but compared to miguel, joel probably wouldn’t stand a chance. not to mention miguel is in the military and has more combat experience. but the last thing you want is a fight.

“who are you? her bodyguard?” joel injects.

“enough, joel. just leave.” you step in, staring at him.

joel’s eyes flicker between you and miguel as if he’s connecting dots. “are you with him?” he sounds in disbelief, or rather surprised.

the audacity this motherfucker has.

“no i’m not, joel. even if i was, you have no right to talk shit. now you need to leave.”

the man stands there in silence. eyes filled with guilt and irritation. guilty of the pain he causes you and irritated because of bigfoot beside you. the heavy glare from miguel making joel feel annoyed yet uneasy. there’s only one choice for him to do.

with a heavy sigh, joel raises his hands in a cautious manner. “alright… i’ll go. i’m sorry...” as he turns and begins walking away, feeling yours and miguel’s glare, he stops when he hears your voice.

“don’t ever come back here again.” pure fury in your tone. you had to let him know loud and clear.

he sends you a pitiful look, only giving you a nod before turning back and walking away.

you and miguel keep a careful eye on him until joel is completely out of your sight. a large wave of relief courses through you. a big weight lifted off your chest, allowing you to breathe. finally letting out that breath you have been waiting to let out.

“you okay?” miguel asks, concerned.

“yeah.” you sigh, looking back at him. “thanks for having my back with that shit.”

“always.” he said sincerely. “i was coming back from the boxing gym and i heard yelling so i walked over to see you arguing. i was worried he wouldn’t leave you alone so i had to intervene. i’m sorry if it was too much and suddenly barging in.”

you lightly shake your head. “no no it’s okay, i get it. i’m actually glad you did, thank you.”

miguel nods, relieved that you were okay with his sudden arrival. he was afraid that he was invading your personal affairs but the fury on your face and your body language, stepping away from joel, caused miguel to act, to be a protector and defender.

“should we head back inside?”

“yeah, i need a drink after that shit.”

both of you chuckle as you head back inside, leaving behind the mess joel left here.

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ┈ ୨ ₊ ┈ ౨ৎ   ┈ ₊ ୧   ┈

you and miguel return to your apartment. the argument leaves you an emotional, pissed off mess so you lazily search for that bottle of wine your sister gave you as a birthday present.

“i can take care of it.” miguel offers in a gentle tone.

“no it’s okay, i got it.” you softly reject, lazily reaching up for two glasses from the cabinet.

“hermosa…i know you do but you shouldn’t have to worry about one more thing.”

he’s right, you know he is.

this whole shitshow, that asshole joel running back into your life just to see you and try to win you back after the shit he did is unbelievable.

not only it left you pissed off but also mentally exhausted from those painful, unwelcome memories.

a sigh escapes your lips. “you’re right… thank you.”

miguel flashes a small smile as he gently takes the glass cups from you, taking care of it while you sit down on the couch snuggling with luna.

he walks over and hands over your glass. you thank him with a kind smile before he sits down beside you, leaving a few inches of space between you.

it was silent for a moment until you speak.

“sorry you had to witness that.”

“no it’s okay. i was more worried than bothered.”

miguel hesitates to ask the next question. who that man was? he already knows the answer but still can’t make assumptions, you never know.

“what do you think of my ex?” you joke sarcastically, taking a sip of your wine.

yep, he was right.

“honestly, an asshole. no offense.”

that makes your chuckle, making miguel smile.

“a selfish, cheating asshole to be exact.”

miguel’s eyes wide in shock, in disbelief.

how could anyone cheat on you? a kind, generous person. that idiot has lost his damn mind.

“that’s insane, him cheating on you.”

you shrug. “three years of dating and decided to fuck a random woman on our shared bed. classic, right?”

oh now miguel is pissed off. blood boiling in anger, disbelief, frustration, and sorrow.

how could that asshole do that to you? three years of dating? that’s a long time and he decided to throw it all away for a random woman?

joel has no idea how lucky he was.

“i’m so sorry, that’s horrible.”

“what’s worse is when his daughter found out.”

miguel’s brows furrowed in surprise. “daughter?”

“yeah, he has a daughter named sarah. the mother is unknown. when she found out, it was chaos.”

miguel stares at you in disbelief, more than he already is. this cheating idiot has a daughter? that’s just unbelievable, crazy even. what kind of an example is he setting up for his daughter?

“we were the perfect family, just the three of us. well, luna too so four.” hint of sorrow in your tone, making miguel’s heart ache. “sarah was like a daughter to me. she even called me ‘mom’ sometimes.” a sad smile on your face, flashbacks of those times. “until her dad decided to fuck another woman.”

flashbacks of the horrible night haunts you.

“it was all perfect until he broke it with his stupidity.” miguel can sense the resentment you have for joel, rightfully so. “not only he hurt me but sarah too.”

the look you give him stings miguel’s heart. aching terribly for you and sarah.

a sad sigh escapes you. “it was so chaotic… everything was… ruined.” you take another sip, a bit more this time to drink down those tears slowly prickling your eyes. “i had to leave… i had to get out of there… i couldn’t stay in the same house, the same bed where he had someone else there.”

immense remorse is all miguel could feel. how sorry he is for you, thinking you deserve way much better. how his heart aches seeing you sad, hurt and frustrated. it pained him, an awful feeling setting on his chest. to see you not smiling or laughing like your typical self makes his heart crack.

all because of that idiot who didn’t deserve you.

he also doesn’t ignore the thin layer of tears that are slowly forming in those pretty eyes.

all he wants to do is pull you into a hug but miguel isn’t sure if you’re comfortable with that. so instead, he simply listens as the good person he tries to be.

“sarah doesn’t live with him anymore, she lives with her uncle, joel’s brother.” just mentioning his name alone makes you gag. “she hates him as much as i do.” you let out a weak chuckle.

rightfully so, miguel thought.

“i sometimes talk to her, once in a while. she’s fine, busy with school. last time we talked, she mentioned some boy she’s been talking to. i hope they’re doing okay, doing better than her dad and i.”

that joke makes miguel frown, remorsefully.

“i really thought it was perfect… but i remind myself that not everything lasts forever.”

those words hit miguel deeply, right into his chest. he definitely knows what you mean.

“so i left, without telling anyone because i didn’t want them to know or tell joel.”

miguel nods, understanding. he wouldn’t either if he was in your position. that idiot has no right to know.

“it was very hard the first year… took me a while to heal, get over it but i eventually did. until that asshole showed up, opening up pandora’s box.” you let out another sigh. “but i’m not gonna fall back into that shithole.” a bit of confidence in your tone. “i worked my ass off to get where i am now, i’m not getting let that asshole hold me back, undo everything.”

seeing you regaining your confidence makes miguel smiles, proudly and happily.

“not today satan.” you make a toast.

miguel chuckles, lightly tapping his glass with yours and drink together to that toast.

“i’m really sorry you went through that.” miguel starts off. “you deserve better than that, and sarah.”

“thanks.” you flash him a little, appreciated smile. “sorry for trauma dumping on you.”

“don’t be.” he shakes his head. “i appreciate that you were comfortable with telling me this.”

“well, i appreciate you being a great listener.”

you smile at one another, a little longer than usual. gazing into each other’s eyes. those mahogany ones boring into yours, lost in trance. neither of you notice how close you are to each other. it’s unclear who moves closer during your conversation. now you happen to be barely inches apart.

you were being honest about miguel being a great listener. it’s hard to find someone who is. sure, you have friends but you don’t see them often like you do with miguel. being around him makes you feel at ease, and safe. a strange yet comforting feeling. miguel feels the same way. a feeling he isn’t so familiar with, not for a long time.

the staring contest continues until the ding! sound from your phone makes you both snap out of it. grabbing your phone from the coffee table, you receive a text from mj asking for a girls day out with her and lyla. glancing at the time, you realize it’s late. miguel should head back home.

“it’s late, i don’t wanna keep you up.”

“you’re not but…” miguel glances at the time on his watch. “i guess it is.”

after helping you put away the glasses, you and miguel say your goodbyes for the night. you take a nice, long shower to wash the feelings away. sipping inside the soft sheets of your bed, you close your eyes forgetting today’s dilemma.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓. ♡ @reverieblondie @nina-from-317 @kavimoo @aly29a2001 @marshhbs @lazyjellyfish300 @tojishugetiddies @aphinthestars @novelaaaaaaaa @imamexican @obessgurlll @deputy-videogamer @watertribeissuperior @lovehadlovelost @auiciqa @agoddoesnotplead @saintdiior @whoopwhoppghost @tomalymme @skadiloki @miguelsfavwife @asterrrrose @glossygreene @aefin @youcantseem3 @resident-clown @kutsipie @zuevcs @totorotales-08 @meowgirl1 @sukunash0e @jadeloverxd @sirendyes @leahnicole1219 @lisa-takeshi

© teenidlegirl. don’t steal, plagiarize, or translate my work. ♡

[florencebirdsong]

Healing Hands

Agatha Harkness x Reader

Healer AU - Chapter 2/3

Summary: you can’t seem to get the same feeling Agatha gave you

Tags: naive reader, fingering, good girl, praise kink, dubious consent, brief orgasm denial, manipulative agatha, corruption kink, medical play(?)

no pronouns used for R, wearing non-descriptive dress

masterlist | ao3

Authors note: here is some more manipulative agatha goodness for you i hope you enjoy <3

Chapter One

You’re back at Healer Harkness’ place much sooner than you were hoping. Which was somewhere between the next day and never.

You had attempted to treat yourself, multiple times. But no matter how good it had felt you hadn’t been able to…finish it like Healer Harkness had. You had hoped that it wasn’t necessary, that it’s only effect was making the gel more potent. Not that it was the key ingredient. But the feeling inside of you, which had been so minorly tempered after your trip to Agatha’s, grew exponentially every time you tried to treat it yourself.

It has only been embarrassment at your inability to do what she said and how the feeling grew every time you thought of her that kept you away for so long. But it’s become unbearable. The few moments you’re able to not think about it have become rare and only the smallest thing flings your thoughts back towards Agatha and her hut.

So, you force yourself back down the long path before anyone notices how unwell you are.

Knocking on her door a second time is easier but waiting for her to answer is so much harder. The heat inside of you banks a little at the thought of her not being home but longing flares. It’s the same agony that’s been haunting you since you left.

The door opens and the look on Agatha’s face changes the moment she sees you. 

“Back again?” she asks as she opens the door wider and allows you inside. You duck your head as you nod. She doesn’t sound disappointed, exactly, but she doesn’t sound surprised either. “Healing or ingredients?” she asks just like the first time.

“The um- the same thing as before,” you say. 

“Oh, yes,” her eyes run down your body. “Your little problem.”

“It’s not so little anymore,”you try not to squirm.

“The treatment isn’t working?”

“I’m not sure,” you wrap your arms around yourself. It still feels so strange to be talking about this with another, even though she is your healer. “You said I had to do the thing. And I wasn’t able to on my own.”

“The thing?” she asks imperiously. “Do I need to remind you of what I said last time?”

“I don’t know what it’s called,” you admit quietly.

“Of course not,” Agatha snorts to herself. “You came, dear.” At your still vaguely confused look she continues. “Orgasmed. Climaxed. Creamed. There’s a few words and many euphemisms but the proper term is come, which is what you will use when referring to your treatment.”

You swallow nervously before making yourself speak again.

“You weren’t there to- I mean I wasn’t able to- to come,” you stutter. 

It’s easier to say than the other word since you haven’t heard it before Agatha but it still feels dirty, despite it being the proper term. Agatha sighs.

“It’s understandable given your experience but it does complicate things.”

“But- you can do it, right?” you rush out. “I mean you did last time, so I thought…” you trail off, abashed at your aggressive start. “I don’t want to feel this way forever and it truly keeps getting worse.” 

You’ve had to fight the horrible impulse to leave whatever social gathering you’ve attended to lock yourself in your room and do as Agatha said. It’s made doing much of anything most difficult.

“Yes, I can. But do you remember how often I said it needed to be done?” she doesn’t give you a chance to answer. “I’m very busy, dear. I can’t drop everything to fuck you.”

You squirm as she says that word from last time.

“Maybe if you show me again I might be able to do so on my own this time?”

“Doubtful. There is a slightly different method we will try instead. It will mean that you may go longer between doses but they aren’t as effective. We’ll need to increase the amount, and then again for how long it’s been since you’ve properly started your treatment.”

“Anything,” to not be so consumed by the thought of her.

“Very well” one corner of her mouth tilts up into what you think is the hint of a smile as she completely clears off her workbench. 

“Why didn’t you show me this the first time if I can go longer between doses?” you ask while she does.

“Because it must be done with two people.”

“But last time-I mean,” you stumble. Her resulting smile doesn’t help.

“I was showing you what to do at home,” she reminds you.

“Oh, right,” embarrassment floods you again.

“Does that mean I’ll need to come to you for each dose?” A strange twist of hope and anxiety curls around your lungs.

“Yes,” she says. “It is dire enough now that we can’t risk missing any while you struggle to make yourself come. Now, bend over.” She gestures at the workbench.

“Bend…over?” 

She only allows you a moment of confusion before her hands grab your hips and position you in front of the bench. You don’t get out much more than a squeak before a hand between your shoulder blades is pushing you down. You don’t fight her as she bends you over. She lifts the skirts of your dress up over your hips. You don’t stop her. She’s a healer. She knows the persisting wetness is a symptom of what’s been plaguing you.

Her cold hands skim over your thighs and that ache deep inside of you returns. The memory of her fingers inside of you has you squirming. You want to feel it again and you don’t know if you’re allowed to. Want can be so dangerous.

“Symptoms?” she asks as she spreads your legs wider apart.

“The same as before but-,” her fingers run through your wetness and you gasp. When she doesn’t say anything, languidly stroking you instead, you continue, “But stronger. A lot stronger. And it gets worse with every day.”

“I suspect it’s because you haven’t been coming when you apply the gel,” her finger dips into your entrance and your hips twitch when she pulls away. “You should’ve come back sooner.”

“I’m sorry,” you whimper. 

Instead of the reprimand you’re expecting or the slightly detached voice she’s been using, she gently rests a hand on your back.

“It’s alright, dear. You’re young and naive. There’s still time to fix it. Don’t worry, we’ll get it sorted in a jiffy,” she says and slides two fingers inside of you.

Trying to treat yourself so many times has made the feeling almost familiar now but being filled by Agatha makes it so much more and you don’t think it’s only from the new position. Although, the new angle does change the feeling. You aren’t sure which is more thrilling.

Agatha hums lowly.

“So wet,” she says, voice husky.

“Is- is that a bad thing?” you say, squirming as her fingers push into you again.

“I told you it was good [?],” she reminds you. “Now be still, dear.”

Her hand moves from your back to your hip and gives a reassuring squeeze. You force yourself to still but immediately fail when her fingers spread apart still inside of you. 

Gasping, you press back onto her fingers, grabbing the edge of the desk to try and ground yourself.

“Um- Healer Harkness?” you ask, voice higher than usual.

“Yes?” she asks, sounding very much like she isn’t listening.

“The gel. You haven’t used any yet.”

There’s a long pause as her fingers continue to languidly pump in and out of you.

“Ah, yes. Of course,” the abrupt departure of her fingers is makes you whimper. “Merely checking your symptoms without its effect.”

“Okay,” you say, only thinking about her fingers to being back inside of you.

The sound of the jar opening has you spreading your legs further apart without consciously thinking about it. Your hips jump again at the cool gel.

“Be good for me,” Agatha says and you try your best to. Her fingers slip so easily inside of you and you whimper when she curls them.

“There we go. Nice and deep.”

It’s not a question so you don’t bother trying to struggle with making words. You happily sink into the feel of her- her fucking you. You moan the next time she curls her fingers and your own dig into the desk. It isn’t enough. The building pleasure has stopped. Something’s missing but you aren’t sure what.

“Oh!” 

Her finger circles your clit and you try to jerk upwards. Her other hand threads through your hair and pushes you back down. 

“You need to come, dear.”

“I’m trying,” you whine.

“You aren’t if you’re trying to get away from me.”

“I wasn’t- “ is all you can get out before she presses down on your clit and the huge wave crashes inside of you. The hand in your hair moves back to your hip to keep you still as your arch under her. She fucks you through it like last time and you expect her to stop when you finally go limp. She doesn’t. Her pace slows slightly but otherwise nothing changes. Her other hand grips your hip tighter as you begin to squirm. The pleasure building much faster than before. 

“Hea- “ is all you get out before her finger swipes over your clit again and turns it into a broken moan.

“You need to catch up on your treatment. We’ll have to go again, dear.”

You moan. It feels too good to be embarrassed by how much you want her to keep going. The awful empty feeling of the last few weeks is gone. Replaced by spine-tingling pleasure. Why would you ever want to treat yourself when she makes it feel this good?

“There we go,” Agatha murmurs as you fully give in to her. “Such a good girl.”

Your toes curl. You want her to say it again. She only said it the once last time but surely if you behave better than you did then, if you accept everything she gives you, she’ll call you it again.

Her fingers curl every time she bottoms out inside of you and you’re a moaning mess. You don’t try to hide the sounds. You don’t care anymore. You just don’t want her to stop.

You’re suddenly empty.

“No!” you gasp, desperately humping the hair. 

“We need more gel,” Agatha says and runs her hand down your side like it’s meant to be soothing. The only thing you feel is the ache of wanting it inside of you. 

“Please,” you whimper.

“Hush,” she says.

You can’t hear anything else over your heart beating in your ears. You resist the urge to beg again. She told you to be quiet so you will be. Even if the ache inside of you feels like it’s going to kill you. 

One hand returns to your hip and you eagerly push them back towards her. She gently spreads the gel around your dripping lips and you make a pathetic noise as you try and get her inside of you. She laughs quietly and nudges your clit so you make another.

“Please.“

This time she pushes three fingers inside of you and you can’t help the guttural moan that bursts out of you. Her movements are harsher than before. Her fingers slam into you with a force you haven’t felt before and her other hand is gripping you so tight her nails are digging in. It feels amazing. Your skin stings as her nails release you. She finds your clit within a second and you see stars.

You come hard enough to arch off the table. You swear you hear Agatha moan behind you as you squeeze so tightly around her. 

She works you through slower this time, and her hands are gently by the time electricity stops zinging through your body.

“Very good, dear,” she says and it feels almost as nice as when she calls you a good girl.

Her hands stay on the the same as last time and it takes you a little longer to fully come back to yourself. Eventually, you push yourself back up. You wobble a little as you feel how wet you are down there. But Agatha hasn’t said anything so you’re sure you’re fine.

Turning to her, you’re greeted with the same blown pupils from last time.

“You’ll need to come back tomorrow,” she says.

“That soon?” you ask like you aren’t jumping for joy inside.

It feels wrong to want it so badly. Agatha is only healing you. Yet you can’t stop the want from growing. 

“Yes. Like I’ve said. We have a lot of catch up to do.”

You nod your head obediently and go to the door. You hesitate at the threshold, biting your lip.

“How many times?” you force out.

Many, you beg her to say. The idea of never experiencing this again is too awful not to be comforted by memories of it.

Her smile is sharp. “However many it takes.”

[shiny-jr]

from DIASOMNIA

- Warning: Yes, this is still a yandere thing. You have been warned. Gender-neutral reader. 

- Characters: Malleus Draconia, Lilia Vanrouge, Silver, Sebek Zigvolt.

- Summary: (Continuation, after this “we just got a letter, wonder where it’s from”) You have barred them from entering the safety of Ramshackle Dorm, but they are determined to make their words reach you. Which is why the letters begin arriving at your doorstep.

- Note: This is just the first part, only with Diasomnia. I’ll post the rest later once its written. For now, I hope you enjoy this part! Oh, and this was inspired by the mention of letters @qierxing​‘s fic inspired by the whole imposter au idea. So yeah. Hopefully I caught all the mistakes in this post because I am not rereading all that again.

Diasomnia   |   Ignihyde

Among the first letters you pick is carefully sealed in a black envelope. You found it peculiar that Grim, who had offered to use his claws to open the envelopes, hadn’t been able to cause the slightest tear as if it were being protected by some magic. But it opened with ease during your first attempt to rip it open.

You didn’t care much for the wax family crest that had sealed it, or the black envelope itself. Maybe it would feel liberating to just set them all ablaze as soon as you finished skimming over the carefully written words.

To my dearest human,

I understand the pain I have caused you.

Ever since that moment I betrayed you, all I have seen in my vision and in my mind is your expression of terror. It tortures me. Your terror spurred by my actions and my very own hands. I am your most beloved and loyalest of companions in this world, and yet, had my retainers behind those doors not intervened, you would have been gone forever. And it would have been all my doing, all my fault.

I write this letter to apologize, but as I write this, I realize that there is no forgiving what has been done. Ever. No matter how I plead or what comes from my lips. But I will say this: there are no amount of words that can truly convey how sorry I am. This will haunt me for the remainder of my centuries of life.

Agonizing thoughts plague my mind and torment me at all hours of the day and night, at every and each moment. Even now, I reflect on everything I had done to harm you. While, the time I believed in those falsehoods was minuscule compared to the days others knew and acted upon it, the fact still stands that I was too easily deceived by mere rumors alone. I was blinded by my rage when I heard that someone dared to impersonate you and had been the probable cause of your vessel’s malfunction, that I did not even take a brief respite to consider the validity of the information that reached my ears.

Believe me, although I realize you have no reason to hold even a shred of faith in a single word I say and for that I would not blame you, but I will atone for the crimes I have committed. In any way possible. Even if it takes my entire lifetime, I will continue forward until I have achieved this goal and you may smile upon me once again. There is a human saying, which if I recall correctly I believe goes something like, forgive but never forget. Well, I would beg for forgiveness, while knowing full well that my misdeeds will never truly be forgotten. The harm I inflicted will leave scars that will never fully fade.

For every scratch my nails left on your delicate flesh, you may drive vines of the sharpest thorns against my own skin until blood pools all around me. For every bruise from my hand that tainted you, I would hand you an iron sword to use as you wish against me until you believe I’ve had enough. If it pleased you, I would even utilize my magic to transform into a figure with wings, which I would then proceed to sever the wings by my own hand and offer them to you on a silver platter.

Any punishment you can think of, I would readily accept.

Although living with the guilt of my mistakes and knowledge of the weight of my actions against you, is by far the most painful torture I’ve ever known.

If I do not receive word from you soon, I fear I may go insane with my own guilt. Yet I know I bring this upon myself. And if I were to go insane, if I was not insane this entire time already, you are all that would be in my thoughts. You are all that would remain in the part of my mind that is intact. You are currently and have been all that I think of, so perhaps my sanity is already long gone.

I would venture into the deepest crevices of hell and back, just to prove my worth to you. Even if I must be punished for the rest of my life, so be it. But I implore you to allow me to redeem myself, let yourself bear witness to the incredible feats I may accomplish in your name. Redemption... The thought of perhaps one day receiving the blessing of your smile and your grace once more in the near or distant future, is the light at the end of the tunnel in this dark period of my existence. I am yours. Whether you still desire me or not, I will forever be yours, and I will brave through trials of fire to demonstrate my eternal devotion to you.

Just know that I will do everything in my power to please you. Whether it be to fulfill the judgement you cast upon me, to demonstrate my worth and determination to achieve redemption, or simply because you command it so, it shall be done. 

For now, I will wait on your response and deliberate over my next course of action. Should you desire anything, anything at all, wether it be something as simple as traveling to the store for a purchase, you have a moment of recluse and desire company, or if you command me to move the island or clear the very heavens, all you must do is speak my name. Then, consider it done. Once my name is upon your lips, I will be there as the last syllable leaves your tongue. 

I will await the moment I am summoned.

Forever yours,

Malleus Draconia

That was... unnerving. Your hand unconsciously drifted up to the slight puncture wounds on your neck. They had long since dried, but you vividly remember feeling the thin trail of crimson being drawn and dripping down like a steady stream. 

You could remember the way Malleus withdrew as soon as he realized the truth, like he had been burned with his hands on you in that fashion. The blood, your blood, staining his sharpened nails. The red was deeper than any nail polish or ink. 

You were nearly sent spiraling, until you felt a tap and the texture of paper against your arm. When you glance down, you see Grim pressing his paws with another crumpled letter onto you. The ink on this letter is red, but the feline’s wide curious eyes are a glowing blue. 

“You okay? What’s so interesting about that wall you’re lookin’ at? You’re kinda just staring off into nothing there.” 

Offering a grateful nod to Grim who frowned worriedly, you accept the already opened envelope while tossing aside the letter from Malleus. “I’m good. Just... thinking.” 

Lifting a hand, you place your palm against his head and scratch the spot behind his ears. Grim lets out a content purr and holds a bag of junk food, which he probably found among the mountain of gifts, and curls up beside you. You continue the slow and soothing scratches as you use your freehand to unravel the letter Grim brought you from the towering stacks. 

This envelope was already cut open. It was a light brown and more square-shaped as thin rope kept it tied together. It had a mash of colorful strings that formed a messy bow to top it off. At least, you assumed it was meant to be a bow, but it looked more like a messy knot that would be impossible to untangle. Good thing it was already partially cut by Grim’s claws earlier. 

As mentioned, the ink was red, an interesting choice. While the handwriting was not as elegant as Malleus’ letter. Some words were written neatly, before falling off the line and blending with other words. Making it a bit difficult to read, but you managed. 

If you’re reading this, 

This means that I am not irredeemable in your eyes. 

Had I been beyond redemption, you would have not even opened this letter. If this was a lost cause, a merry dance, this paper would’ve been tossed into the trash without a second thought. But, my words have reached you. You’re reading this right now, aren’t you? It’s why I decided to write this. I could predict the actions you’d take. You are different from your vessel, but it’s only natural that you would act similarly to the silly little doll you controlled, the same doll that sparked this whole fiasco. 

I truly am so sorry if I frightened you. While I will admit, it was my intention to strike fear into your heart and use you to serve for another dubious purpose, that was when I hadn’t recognized you. Although, I know this doesn’t mean much to you, I figured I should be entirely honest to you. It’s the least I can do. I’m such a fool for being quick to believe the rumors like some sort of senseless child.

All I can do now, is remain true and offer up my loyalty. It’s nothing compared to the mistakes I made, and I’ve made plenty, but I know an apology will never suffice. So, even if you’re still uncertain about redemption, I’ll remain loyal. Among all the beings and creatures I’ve met in my lifetime, you remain an enigma. You’re human, but at the same time, you’re different. There continues to be so much I do not know of you. I wonder, could you hear me whenever I spoke to your plaything? Do you recall the stories I told, of my time as a reckless youth? Foolhardy, wild, that I was. But I was also fiercely loyal. For the Draconias, I razed down all foes like wheat in a field. 

Now that I consider it, perhaps it's best if you hadn’t heard me recount those tales. While I had been eager to share with you my experiences and act out my thrilling adventures, perhaps my story telling was much too graphic. I wouldn’t want the vivid details of bloodshed to be cause for alarm as our most recent encounter was far from pleasant. You have to forgive me, sometimes I get carried away when narrating my accomplishments and exploits. I’ll share more light-hearted memories with you the next time we meet. 

Our first meeting with your true self really went abysmally, didn’t it? I know that things never really go as planned, so I don’t bother planning such things in advance. But, I had pictured it to be a lovely moment. Silver and Sebek would look at you with shining eyes and proclaim their loyalty as they had practiced vows over and over again for such an occasion, I would get to embrace your true form and unlock your secrets, and of course Malleus would be truly content for once as he finally received the company he deserved. 

But, as expected, things didn’t go accordingly. 

Those three youths are miserable, thinking of the proper words to pen, a way to apologize for the suffering they’ve caused. But now, we are the ones suffering because we hurt you. 

They write and write, but tear their letters over and over again as they believe no words they’ve written so far are adequate. Soon they’ll realize that no words will ever be sufficient for an apology. Even if they were to create new words that are unheard of by any dictionary, it would not come close to being enough. That’s why I’ve decided to stick with this single attempt, because I already know that nothing I ever write will measure up to being acceptable. 

There is something about you that always leaves me bemused. Your grace left me feeling dizzy and giddy, like I was experiencing a little crush again, although this was much more intense than any crush. The truth about your vessel controlled by you, had me perplexed as I had never heard of such a thing. And well, the disastrous chase that followed your arrival... you know that part well and could assume how I feel about that from what I’ve told you. At present, all I can do is remain loyal, for what my loyalty is worth to you. Beyond that, despite having an abundance of experiences, there is no such situation that could have prepared me for this moment. 

Genuinely, I am stumped once again. I cannot even envision what can be done with my own two hands, that can be worthy of your attention once again and earn me redemption. But, you can be certain of one thing, and that is: my loyalty is undying. I still have a few years left in these old bones of mine, and I will use the rest of my life to serve you. 

Whether you want me or not. If you still want me, I will be of use to you. Whatever you are in need of, a soldier, a plaything, a companion, or even someone to take out your anger on. I shall be it. If you don’t want me, I will still be there. I will always be there to smile and lift your spirits like you once did for me through your doll. 

I eagerly wait for word from you. 

Until we meet again soon, 

Lilia Vanrouge

None of these letters were comforting in the slightest. In fact, they only placed you further on edge. For a moment, you considered stopping it here after only two and getting rid of the rest. 

Grim by now had settled in your lap, and looked up at you with those watchful blue eyes. Had he been staring at you the entire time? 

“Let me guess, they’re not taking it well?” 

“No, not at all.” You answer with a grimace. If this was how they were like now, you didn’t even want to know how they acted when they found out your vessel stopped working over a week ago. 

“Huh, sucks for them.” The feline stretched out, his claws poking out for a moment before quickly retracting as he plopped back down on his back with his stomach up. Maybe it was his own attempts to fill the silence, or to let you know you weren’t alone, but he eventually groaned. “Hey, read me one. I wanna know what they say.” 

Unable to say no to your companion, you nodded slowly and smiled weakly, “Alright, alright, let’s see what we have here...” 

You plucked out a random letter with neat packaging. However, just because the exterior was pretty, didn’t mean the interior message would be. You learned that already from the last two letters you had read. 

This envelope looked somewhat similar to the last one, square-shaped and tied closed with string. However, instead of the knot of ribbons on it, it held a simpler gift. The brown rope around it was tied in a neat bow, and between the string were lavender stems with a small branch of wild berries. 

Grim immediately indulged in the berries and the flowers, staining his little fangs and whiskers with the sweet sticky juice and purple petals. All the while exclaiming, “Oh, oh! I remember this letter. Some bird came to drop it and it flew away just before I could catch it...” 

A short laugh escaped your lips as you hear him. “So that’s why you were grumbling this morning.” 

Not wanting to be reminded again, he swat his paw at your nose as the feline hissed, “Shh! Just read already!” 

Dear player, 

I truly am deeply remorseful and I offer my sincerest apologies. 

I was to be a knight, that has been something I have strived for ever since I was a child. A knight not just to serve Malleus but to protect others, and eventually I discovered my purpose was to serve you as well. But... all I did was stand idly by and watch the torment. Shortly after meeting your vessel, I had promised to shield you from all danger. I broke that promise. 

I cannot imagine how frightened you must have been. Had just one person stop and thought things through, they may have realized the horrible mistake that was being made. Had I acted as soon as I felt the tug on my heart when I saw you weakened and on the dirt, I may have saved you from anymore pain. 

Those eyes, your eyes, I see them in my sleep. You were scared, and through your gaze you were pleading for help, were you not? I see it every time I close my eyes. You witnessed it yourself, the very moment when I had failed you. You were right there, so close I could have extended a helping hand. But my grief rendered me sightless, all I could think of in that moment is how my heart ached and how I longed to see you again. Even if it was through your vessel. The rumors didn’t quite make any sense to me, as I wondered how could anyone possibly be so cruel as to tear you away from us? 

Father had said that it would all be over soon. That capturing the imposter and bringing them to their knees, would make everything better. But when I saw you on the ground before we learned of your identity, I couldn’t help but wonder if this was alright. Would the player have wanted this? Would they have scorned upon witnessing the scene? Would this undoubtedly end the throbbing pain I felt in my heart? The pain was becoming unbearable, and I was not the only one to feel it. The news made little sense to me. Sebek insisted that it was true, and Father seemed to believe so as well. However, that is no excuse for how I went along as if it were okay. 

You were innocent and helpless, you, the player, not only witnessed the scene but were the victim. I’m so sorry, I should have done something... If it were the only way to gain your forgiveness, I would spend every moment of my waking hours writing letters of apology. To do so I would keep myself awake for as long as humanely possible. If asked, I would use every moment to pen these letters, each different from the last. Although after several attempts in redoing this single letter, I realize that it would be a pointless endeavor. 

After reflecting, the only way to make up for what I have do is be patient. 

Be patient and await for word from you. I cannot force you, I cannot pressure you, I can only pause and prepare myself to do whatever I must in order to earn back your grace. 

Please, do not keep me waiting too long. I know I have no right to ask you this. I’m willing to wait years if needed, but part of me has this fear that I will never regain a spot near your heart until I’m frail and feeble with age. Rest assured, even in old age, I would be willing to be your knight. Even if my bones ached, I would raise my sword and shield. If I couldn’t use my weakened legs, I would call upon a horse to be my steed. And if I were to become magicless, I would use the remainder of my physical strength to serve you. 

If I may be honest with you? I have no idea what to do. Yes, I said I would wait, but what else can I do? What can I do to eventually secure a place beside you, if it were possible? In times of trouble I normally turn to Lilia and Malleus for advice, however, I am a bit unsettled by their approach to this delicate matter. Truthfully, I am anxious, but while they share the sentiment, they are oddly confident that things will turn out alright in the end. I am unsure how they can muster the self-assurance to quell their fears. Maybe they know something that I do not, and have decided not to share this secret for now... 

Nevertheless, for now I’ll eagerly anticipate the day we can reunite just as I have dreamed. I greatly look forward to the second where not only I can see you smile once again and your eyes might finally look at me with content, but also the moment where all those I know might get the opportunity to be in your peaceful grace. 

I’ve dragged this letter on for too long. If you were to take something away from this letter, let it be this: I will carry out your wishes. No matter what you may think of me, whether it be a positive or negative image in your mind, I will continue forward in your name. Even if you think me unfit for the title of knight, then consider me a humble servant instead. Nothing will shake my commitment, and I will do whatever it is you ask. 

This is a pledge that will not be broken. 

Cordially, 

Silver

This letter felt a bit lighter than the others. Still, it was slightly intense in its own way, but it was nowhere near as extreme as the previous two were. And, maybe you had a better opinion on Silver, not because he was gentle with his words but because he was one of the very few who hadn’t threatened you, directly harmed you, or treated you cruelly. 

But! He didn’t get a free pass just because of that. Yes, he may not have directly caused any harm, but he didn’t exactly help you either. 

Grim had taken the letter from you, and inspected the paper in his paws. He held it above his head, scrunching up his nose a bit as he looked it over. “I dunno... he’s okay.” 

At that, you roll your eyes a bit as a smirk crept up from the corner of your mouth. “You’re not just saying that because his letter came with a snack?” 

“No! You think me easy to bribe? I think not! It would take a whole bucket full of berries just to get me to even discuss it. Then, I’d turn them down and take the berries anyways!” The feline proclaimed his brilliant plan should that situation ever arise. Maybe the gifts you allowed him to take were starting to get to his head. “But... he could be worse. Silver, as dumb as he was like everyone else, he did hear me out after they separated us.” 

Silver did that? If that were true, it’s possible that he wasn’t as bad as the others who had wronged you.

“That’s... good to know.” You murmur as you pluck up another random envelope from the pile. 

The last envelope you pick up before you planned to take a break was surprisingly plain. It was just that. A plain white envelope, sealed by green wax with what looked like a family crest that depicted a creature with fangs and scales. One of the corners was crinkled, as if it was gripped too tightly there. 

As soon as you slid out the folded letter, you were bombarded by the ink. Whoever had wrote this, seemed like they applied too much force. This caused certain parts of some letters to be too round and heavy with ink that made those bits feel damp and stain your fingers the slightest bit. Like whoever wrote this, placed just as much pressure with their hands on the pen gliding across the page, as much pressure as they felt weighing on their mind. 

Great Player, 

As I pen this, I am on my hands and knees.

I have prepared a multitude of letters which I will send daily, so that now and in the future you will continue to hear my apology and know I truly mean it. One admission of regret is not enough. An apology is only an acknowledgment of an offense, it does not absolve one of their wrongdoings. I know this! So, I, Sebek Zigvolt, will atone by any means necessary! 

To you, the player who I wronged and deserves nothing but happiness and perfection, I give my deepest sincerest profuse apology. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m SORRY. Right now when I look at my hands that I use to write, I’m reminded of the vicious way I grabbed you like some... heathen! These hands sullied your flawless self, and for that alone I will never forgive myself!

Had it not been for the wise words of Master Lilia and the bothersome yet logical reasoning from Silver, I would have been at your door everyday, every hour, begging for a second chance. In the midst of brainstorming, I presented my idea of crawling on hands and knees, from Diasomnia to the Ramshackle Dorm, to deliver the letter myself. Then, I would display whatever cuts or bruises formed on my palms and knees which I would receive from the rocky roads or thorns, that way you may see my devotion was true and no lengths are too great when it comes to you! No matter the pain or burden! The idea seems to appeal to Lord Malleus, but I was told that it comes off as too extreme...

But! I beg to differ!! I only consider it so that you may understand what I feel, so that you might comprehend the things I would do for you, and receive me back in your good graces! Additionally, delivering the letter in this manner would cause me as much or more physical pain than I caused you! It is a shame that things have come to this. I had wished so much for our first proper meeting to be one of joy where you might accept me as your knight! In spite of that, I will not falter in shame! If I were to deliver the following letters in that method I had detailed earlier, I would wear the scars proudly! It would be physical proof of my faithfulness towards you! 

I am sorry, and I will continue to say it. Perhaps, this may be presumptuous of me, but if you consider it, Diasomnia did not torment you nearly as long as any other insolent dorm had! And! We retainers accompanied Lord Malleus every day to check on the wellbeing of your vessel, and watch over it while investigating various possible approaches on how to revive Yuu. We diligently did this until the moment we encountered your true self! 

I swear to you, no one shall harm you from this moment forth! 

From now on, I’ll march forward and see to it that you are never hurt ever again! This is something I know that my fellow dormmates will tirelessly work toward as well. 

Have you realized that we have been guarding you and the serenity of your dorm in the past days? Have you not thought it strange that none have come to needlessly pester you? Yes, that is all thanks to the efforts of those in Diasomnia! Even when you do not realize it, we are insuring your welfare and the tranquility you require to recover! Of course, as much as I desperately want to inform you of the details, I will not. It is best you don’t know. 

Now, I must be honest with you. Originally, I had planned this letter to be much longer and have contents that would have been much different than what you are currently reading. I aimed to be honest in my feelings! But before I could sign off on the original draft, I realized that the others may be in the right. It is possible that our devotion, my devotion, may come off as disquieting if I were completely sincere. I’ve had to restrain myself on many occasions, reminding myself to at least appear collected and controlled. That is not as easy as it sounds! 

How could it be, when the one I must suppress my emotions and actions for, is you? That’s as if asking to repress part of my very soul and heart! I absolutely detest hiding it!! But when I remember this is for you and your own comfort, it becomes bearable. I can only hope that soon, very soon, I might be able to unveil my true sentiments towards you! As intense and extreme as they may be! 

It seems that I’m nearing the word limit that they imposed. Once again, I apologize. I’ll have to contemplate new ways to write ‘sorry.’ I wish I could write a million more words for you! But even a million words wouldn’t be anywhere near a satisfactory amount for me to detail how much I revere you! And it would take more than another million words for me to write a full apology, but even then I wouldn’t be satisfied! No single letter is adequate enough, so be prepared to receive the rest I have written! 

I will make sure they are delivered posthaste! 

Faithfully, 

Sebek Zigvolt 

Great... you’re back to being unnerved again. 

There was something about them all being so weirdly obsessed, but in vary different ways. Malleus and Lilia puzzled you, they had you feeling the most uneasy by far. Maybe it had to do with the fact that they were both not human, they were arcane beings with enigmatic personalities and objectives that were incomprehensible to you. 

Out of the four, Silver was the only one that was fully human like yourself, but even he was a bit of a mystery as he was raised by the fae. It was hard to be wary of him, which was probably because your distrust and fear of him wasn’t as intense as it was towards the others due to his good nature and lack of actions he took during the whole disaster. 

As for Sebek, well, he was unnerving in his own right but it was nowhere near on the level that Malleus and Lilia were on. At the very least he wasn’t a complete mystery to you. It was easy to figure out his intentions, because he either said them or wore them on his sleeve. 

Your mind was spinning as you looked over the four letters, filled with lines upon lines and more lines of pages. In that moment your breath quickened as you noticed the cloudy sky outside. For a brief second, you feared you would see that familiar flash of green lightning, taking you back to that dark day when you nearly died. It’s like you could feel Sebek’s hands tightly gripping the back of your skull that forced you against the earth, you saw Silver’s sorrowful gaze that spoke a thousand words you didn’t yet understand, you heard Lilia’s words hinting to a doomed fate of becoming some lifeless doll, and god, you couldn’t forget him even if you wanted to. Malleus. He was the worst of all. You felt his nails and fingers constricting around your neck and squeezing out all the air, you saw his haunting green eyes with those slit pupils as he glowered at you with such anger and hate, and you heard what you had thought would be the last words you ever heard come from his lips––

“Hey!” 

You were torn out of those dark thoughts by the feline in your lap. A concerned frown tugged at Grim’s lips, but once he saw he had your attention, he mustered a slight grin as he held up what looked like an armful of snacks. At least, as much as he could carry in his small paws. From his grin, you could see his little fangs still covered in the remnants of the berries and flower petals.

“Look, I found your favorite! This is getting boring, so let’s just take a break!”

[d0llcuries]

LYING HAS TO STOP

pairing(s): neteyam x fem!na'vi reader

summary: neteyam is haunted by memories he shared with you before he left for awa'atlu

author's note: i think this could technically count as angst but it's more melancholic to me, there's just lots of longing. consider this a warning i suppose. i really can't put it here but listen to “lying has to stop” by clairo while reading for the best experience!! unrelated but i have midterms tomorrow and i haven't studied #yolo !!! 😜 (help me)

neteyam stood on the shore of awa’atlu, watching the sky, it's orange and pink light reflecting off the vast, endless sea. the sky here always seemed too wide, too open, nothing like the comforting embrace of the forest canopy he had grown up beneath. here, there were no towering trees to shelter him, the cool breeze that came off the ocean didn’t carry the scent of the forest, of wet earth and soft moss.

two years had passed since they fled. two years since the sully family left their home, their people, and everything they had known. awal'atu, for all its beauty, for all the new skills and wonders he had discovered, this place would never be home.

home was where she was.

he glanced down at the bracelet that circled his wrist, a simple thing—woven vines and tiny purple and blue beads. he hadn’t taken it off since the day she gave it to him. the memory of that moment was burned into his mind, one of the last things he could hold onto when everything else had been stripped away.

the way her wide, tear-filled eyes had stared up at him, as if she couldn’t quite believe he was leaving. he explained everything to her, his voice breaking as he explained why they couldn’t stay. she had understood, of course. she always understood. but that didn’t make it hurt any less.

the day his family decided to leave the omaticaya had been one of the worst of his life. the guilt of it still weighed heavily on his shoulders. they had no choice—quaritch wasn’t just hunting his father, he was hunting all of them. staying would have put their entire clan in danger, would have brought death and destruction to their people. but leaving... leaving meant abandoning the life they had built. it meant leaving her.

he could still feel the soft warmth of her hands, the trembling in her fingers as they brushed against his skin. and he could still hear the way her voice had cracked when she told him she loved him, right before she kissed him as if for the first time. her lips soft and trembling, her breath warm and uneven, the way she had pressed herself so close to him, as if she were trying to imprint herself into his very soul. he had kissed her back just as fiercely, holding her like she was the only thing keeping him grounded, the only thing keeping him from falling apart.

his heart ached at the memory. every night he replayed it over and over, the feel of her, the taste of her, the way her breath had hitched in her throat when he deepened the kiss. he could still taste the salt of her tears, mingling with the sweetness of her lips. it had been bittersweet—knowing it was a goodbye, even if she had promised it wasn’t forever.

forever, neteyam. i’ll wait forever.

he wanted to believe her. he had to believe her. but the distance between them seemed to grow wider with each passing day.

bitterness haunted his heart at the thought of what should have been. they were supposed to be mated by now. it was all so clear back then, so simple. it wasn’t even a question of if, but when. he could still remember the way she had smiled when he first mentioned the possibility of them being mated, how her cheeks had flushed a soft shade of violet, her eyes bright with excitement. he remembered how shy she had been at first, her hands fidgeting nervously as she offered him a carved trinket she had made. a symbol of their courtship. his heart had swelled with pride and affection, and he had taken it from her as if it were the most precious thing in the world. and to him, it was. everything she touched became sacred, imbued with her warmth and care. the future had seemed so sure, so inevitable, like the turning of the seasons or the rise of the sun.

but then quaritch came back, rearing his ugly head into their lives once more, like a demon from some nightmare. everything shifted in that instant. the careful plans they had laid, the promises they had made—all of it was torn apart in the blink of an eye. nothing was certain anymore. nothing was safe.

the metkayina were kind, welcoming. they had taught him to swim, to ride the ilu, to adapt to their ways. but no matter how much he learned, no matter how skilled he became in their ways, neteyam still felt like a stranger. and at night, when the village was quiet and the only sound was the soft lapping of the waves against the shore, he let himself feel it. the loneliness, the heartache, the longing for a life that seemed further away than ever before.

he thought of her constantly. every day, every night. he wondered what she was doing, if she was safe, if she still thought of him the way he thought of her. he would lie awake, imagining what it would be like to see her again. to hold her. to hear her laugh. his mind would drift back to the quiet moments they had shared—the way she would lean into him, her head resting on his shoulder, the way her fingers would trace the lines of his palm as they sat together in the stillness of the forest.

she was always there, in the back of his mind, a constant, aching presence. he would catch glimpses of her in the most unexpected moments—a flash of her smile in the curve of a wave, the sound of her laughter in the distant call of a tulkun. at night, when the village was quiet and the stars reflected off the still water, he let himself remember her fully, let himself drown in the memories of her.

he remembered how she used to laugh, how her eyes would crinkle at the corners when she was truly happy. how she would tug at his braids playfully, teasing him in that soft, affectionate way of hers. he could still hear her voice, soft and melodic, as she whispered his name in the quiet moments they shared alone.

but as the days stretched into months, and the months into years, that trust had started to feel fragile. had she moved on? the thought plagued him, gnawed at him like a festering wound. she had promised to wait, but how long could he really expect her to? he didn’t know when—or if—he would ever return. and if she had found someone else, if she had chosen to be with another, he couldn’t blame her. he knew she had every right to. after all, he had left her. not by choice, but he had still left. he couldn’t expect her to put her life on hold, to wait indefinitely for something that might never happen.

the idea of her being with someone else, though—it tore at him. the thought of another man holding her, kissing her, making her smile the way he used to—it was unbearable.

“neteyam?” his father’s voice pulled him from his thoughts. jake stood a few feet away, his expression unreadable in the fading light. neteyam had grown used to the look—his father’s concern, his quiet observations. “you alright, boy?”

neteyam nodded, though the tightness in his chest told a different story. “yeah.”

jake studied him for a moment, then sighed, stepping closer. “i know this move hasn’t been easy for you,” he said, his voice gentle. “for any of us. but you... you’ve been carrying a lot on your shoulders.”

neteyam glanced down at the sand beneath his feet, not trusting himself to speak. his father didn’t know the half of it.

“ke’loreä’s been asking about you,” jake continued, his tone careful. “she’s a nice girl. strong, kind. maybe you should give her a chance.”

she was kind, sweet even, with a laugh that rang like a bell and sea-green eyes that sparkled when she looked at him. she had taken an interest in him from the beginning, always finding excuses to be near him, to talk to him, to laugh at his jokes, even the ones that weren’t particularly funny.

at first, he hadn’t noticed. or maybe he had, but he hadn’t let himself think about it. but as time passed, it became harder to ignore. she would linger by his side during training, brush her hand against his arm when she spoke, offer to help him with tasks that didn’t require any assistance. she was... nice. there was nothing wrong with her. in fact, she was everything a mate should be.

but she wasn’t his.

“i cannot,” neteyam said, his voice tight. he shook his head, his jaw clenched. “i cannot do that to her.”

“to ke’loreä?” jake asked, raising an eyebrow.

“to yn,” neteyam corrected, his chest tightening at the mere mention of her name. “i can’t... i can’t betray her like that.”

jake let out a slow breath, his expression softening. “son, it’s been two years. i know you miss her. i know this isn’t what you wanted. none of us wanted this. but you can’t hold onto the past forever. we all left people behind. but maybe it’s time to start thinking about—”

“i am not holding onto the past,” neteyam said, his voice quieter now, but no less firm. “i am holding onto her. she is not the past. she...” he trailed off, unable to find the right words to explain the depth of what he felt. “i promised her,” he said finally. “and she promised me. i am not going to break that. she is waiting for me.”

“and what if she’s not?” jake asked quietly. the words hung in the air like a heavy weight, pressing down on neteyam’s chest.

he hadn’t let himself think about that. he couldn’t. if he let himself believe, even for a moment, that she had moved on, that she had found someone else, it would destroy him.

“she is,” neteyam said, his voice firm, though his heart trembled with uncertainty. “i know she is.”

jake didn’t say anything for a long moment. finally, he placed a hand on neteyam’s shoulder, squeezing it gently. “i just don’t want you to spend your life waiting for something that might not happen.”

neteyam swallowed the lump in his throat, nodding stiffly. his father meant well, but he didn’t understand. how could he? he didn’t know what it was like to love someone so deeply that their absence felt like a physical wound, to miss someone so much that every day without them was like another weight added to his chest.

jake didn’t push the issue any further. he placed a hand on neteyam’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze before turning and walking back toward the village, leaving neteyam alone with his thoughts once again.

he closed his eyes, letting the sound of the waves wash over him. he could almost hear her voice, soft and sweet, carried on the breeze. he could almost feel her hand in his, the warmth of her skin against his. he could almost see her smile, the one that always made his heart race.

but when he opened his eyes, she was gone. just like she had been.

sobbing. should i do a part two?

[himasgod]

Kinich x r4ped!reader

Scaramouche x family issues!reader

(I finally finished this request! I've tried to make it as non-specific as possible, I know this is a sensitive subject. If any of you, dear readers, have gone through a similar experience, I want you to know that this is a serious subject, and that you are not alone. You have many things, many people, many laws and entities protecting you. Feel free to express yourself. You can count on me if you need anything.)

Kinich

Where you find comfort on him after being sexu4lly 4bused.

It was a thick night in Natlan, and the heat was barely able to alleviate the weight you felt in your chest. In the last few days, you had tried to return to your normal life, pretending that everything was fine; but the reality was that the shadows of your pain continued to haunt you. You didn't want to talk, not even to Kinich, afraid that your words would fail to convey the hell you had lived through. However, the concern in his eyes convinced you that tonight you could no longer bear your suffering alone.

Kinich was at your side, silent. Not asking for explanations, not pressuring. Despite his pragmatic personality, he was perceptive and knew when someone was carrying more than they could hold. He watched you for a moment, his eyes serious and attentive, without traces of judgment, only open for whatever you decided to trust him with.

"You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to say," Kinich murmured softly, breaking the silence gently. His rough hands, accustomed to combat and hunting, sought yours with unusual care, as if he were afraid of breaking you at the slightest contact. “But I am here, for whatever you need. You know I love you, forever”

You felt the calm strength in his touch. A shiver ran through your skin, as if Natlan’s warmth was not enough to calm the coldness that had remained inside you since that fucking day. The words were stuck in your throat, and although you wanted to answer him, your voice seemed to have faded. But Kinich understood, as if your silence spoke for itself. He gently pulled you towards him, and without saying anything else, he let his arm surround your body with a protective warmth, gently, as if he were leaving you enough time to react, in case you did not want to have any contact.

“I know that what they did to you…” he began to say, his voice low and full of a weight that he rarely showed, “is something that no human being should endure. I can't undo what they did to you, or erase that pain… but I'll be here, even if you just want company without words."

You squeezed your eyes shut, and at last, the knot in your chest began to give way. Tears ran free, and Kinich didn't look away for a moment. He stayed by your side, like an immovable pillar in the middle of the storm that was hitting you. There was no rush, no attempt to change or minimize what you felt. He was simply there, sharing the weight in silence.

When you finally found your voice, you could barely whisper through your tears:

"I'm scared… scared that I'll never feel whole again, that this has taken a part of me away forever. I feel dirty, I've been taken away…"

Kinich looked at you, his gaze filled with an empathy rare in him. With a deliberate slowness, on purpose in case you didn't feel comfortable, he placed his hand on your face, gently wiping away the tears with his thumb.

"You're so much more... you are stronger than you think,” he replied, with a conviction so deep that he almost managed to make you believe him. “They haven’t taken anything from you. You will overcome it, and you will be the same as always. It is just a process that you will face… and I will be there throughout the process, helping you. You will overcome it. I promise you that.”

His words were like a balm, sincere and firm. Although the doubt and the pain were still present, Kinich’s presence enveloped you in a feeling of security. He did not promise that everything would be fine, but he did promise that he would be there, ready to accompany you in every step you took to heal.

You both stayed like that, sharing the silence under Natlan’s starry sky, and you understood that in Kinich you had found a refuge.

Scaramouche

Where he comforts you after you've told him your family's expectations of you.

The mood in Sumeru was gloomy, reflecting the weight of your thoughts. You had had a heated argument with your family earlier that morning, a conflict that seemed to repeat itself in an endless cycle. It was differences of expectations, impossible demands, and a constant comparison that drained every particle of peace you tried to build. You didn't know how to explain to them your desire to live on your own terms, without the weight of their expectations on your shoulders.

You found yourself walking aimlessly through the city, trying to clear your mind. However, a familiar shadow appeared in your path, and looking up, you saw Scaramouche, arms crossed and a disdainful expression you knew all too well.

"Are you done ghosting around town?" he asked in his usual scathing tone, but something in his eyes revealed more concern than contempt.

You sighed, trying to keep your composure, but the tension in your chest was too strong.

“If you’ve only come to make fun of it, then you might as well leave it,” you replied in a dry tone, hoping your words would drive him away.

To your surprise, Scaramouche didn’t move. Instead, he stared at you intently, as if he were trying to decipher the shadows behind your words.

“I’m not here to make fun of you, fool,” he murmured, his tone softening only slightly. “Though sometimes it seems like you don’t even understand what you need.”

His words made your barriers crumble, and without knowing how, you found yourself telling him everything. The overwhelming expectations, the rejection of your decisions, the constant criticism that felt like daggers in your heart. As you spoke, Scaramouche’s expression changed, a mix of contained rage and dark compassion that only he seemed to possess.

“So… you can’t live up to them and they know it,” he finally said, after listening to you in silence. “Why do you have to mold yourself in their image?”

You looked at him in shock, tears threatening to spill out. It was the first time someone had said it out loud, like a truth you hadn’t allowed yourself to believe.

“Because… they’re my family. I’m supposed to make them happy.”

Scaramouche snorted, his gaze turning icy.

“That’s absurd,” he muttered, a hint of bitterness in his voice. “Family shouldn’t be a burden that crushes you. They don’t have the right to decide how you live. If they truly loved you, why would they hurt you this way?”

His words were harsh, but they carried a sincerity that cut through every one of your doubts. You moved a little closer, seeking refuge in his presence. Though Scaramouche rarely showed affection to you, eben if he was your boyfriend, this time he didn’t pull away. Instead, he let you lean on him, his hand resting gently on your back as the weight of your tears fell silently.

“You don’t need to live up to their expectations to be worth something. If they don’t see it, it’s their problem, not yours,” he murmured, almost in a whisper. “And I… well, I’m the last one who should say this, but… you’re not alone in this fight.”

For the first time in a long time, you felt like someone understood you without judging you. Scaramouche, with his reticent nature and his own history of pain, knew more than he let on.

And in that instant, you realized that even if your family would never understand your choices, maybe you had someone at your side who could support you without asking for anything in return.

Here is my masterlist, in case you are interested in any more of my work or want to send me a request <3