#vowed never to live in this state again RIP

[samderella]

Living with my in-laws after evacuating from a hurricane be like

I appreciate you love and want to spend time with me, but if you don't let me hide in the guest bedroom and write nonsense for five uninterrupted hours, I will scream

[paracosmic-murdock]

i still got love for you

part four: i hope for you

pairing: francesca bridgerton x fem!reader

summary: leaving for bath out of the sudden was the hardest thing you had had to do, not particularly because you had left your parents and home behind, but because your friendship with francesca bridgerton was ripped away from you a sudden summer morning.

five years later, francesca arrived in bath for the season to practice pianoforte with her aunt winnie, and finally, you see her again after thinking you had forever lost her. how much you wanted for your love to live and beat still, how much you wanted for francesca to say so.

warnings/tags: sapphic francesca bridgerton, childhood friends to lovers, mutual pining, am i gay quiz but make it nineteenth century somehow, smut, minors dni, inspired by an emily dickinson intimate letter to susan hunington dickinson, song: seven (taylor swift)

word count: 3.7K

❁ part one | part two | part three | part five | part six

❁ mila's anthology (main masterlist)

“Susie, will you indeed come home next Saturday, and be my own again, and kiss me as you used to? I hope for you so much, and feel so eager for you, feel that I cannot wait, feel that now I must have you — that the expectation once more to see your face again makes me feel hot and feverish, and my heart beats so fast.” (Excerpt from Open me carefully: Emily Dickinson's intimate letters to Susan Hunington Dickinson by Emily Dickinson)

“That is your favorite breakfast.”

You stopped playing with your fork and looked at him. “I am not hungry.”

He ate the last bite of his dish. “Oh, and why would that be? The last time you ate was for lunch yesterday and it was almost nothing.”

“I do not know. Perhaps I am tragically ill.”

“Clearly,” He scoffed sarcastically. “You miss her.”

“I don't miss anybody, Charles. I just feel unwell.” you stated.

“You, Sister, are a terrible liar.”

“And you, Brother, are delusional.”

He shook his head and stood up, putting the napkin you had embroidered on the table before storming off without any explanation.

You rolled your eyes, drinking your berry tea.

As much as you wanted to deny it, you were pensive because you missed Francesca.

You haven't seen her since dinner a couple of weeks ago, and you couldn't help but feel bad about it.

Three days after that evening, you went to her aunt's home but were told she was not there. You left a message for her: she was invited to join you for tea the next day or whenever she wanted to, for you would be at your home every day.

You canceled quite some plans just in case she went, but she never did. And you were devastated.

It was a lovely evening, and you thought everything went really well. Perhaps it was because you had called her darling. You felt it was proper at the moment, but now, not anymore. Now, in your mind, you have made her feel uncomfortable and lost her forever.

Charles’ mind was known for hardly being made up.

Dilemma was almost his second name, and it was no secret. Always a dilemma, and now wasn't the exception.

He hates to see you upset and hurting. You are his sister, and ever since you were born, he vowed to love you and protect you. And after your parents sent you away, it was his biggest purpose.

Right now, he had no choice but to tell Francesca Bridgerton, in front of him, the reason he was there.

Charles cleared his throat. “I suppose you have an idea as to why I am here.”

“Charles…”

“Frannie, did she do something wrong?”

“No, I just…” She sighed. “I have not been feeling very well lately, that is all.”

“Are you sure?” he questioned, not quite believing her.

“Yes.” She nodded.

“My sister has been punishing herself for your absence, and… it breaks me to see her like this,” he mentioned. Francesca felt her heart break at the thought of you hurting. “Why don't you come for lunch at our home? I shall have the cooks do something you like.”

“Uh, we were invited for lunch at the Maguire's home, I am sorry…” she lied.

Charles sighed. “When can we receive you, then?”

“I do not know.” she said, looking down to her hands.

He stood up. “I really hope you know she is hurting because of your absence. She did those five years, and she has these past weeks. She loves you, and I know you love her too. And no, not in a friendly manner.”

And, just like that, he left.

Francesca sighed and watched him leave, not able to decide what to do. To stop him. To ask him. To do anything.

In truth, the reason Francesca has not visited you in weeks is because she was scared of loving you. Not for being you, but for being a woman.

Her aunt Winnie had asked her if Lord Chadwick was courting her, but she didn't quite know what to say. She just said she did not know, but her aunt was convinced he was.

Understandably so, because no man would just invite a young lady to his home so many times if he didn't have any intention to court her. What she didn't know was that the one interested in her was you. Another lady.

After the implications regarding your brother, Francesca's aunt remarked how important it was for her to marry a gentleman, a good man, wealthy, and with title. The only one Francesca wanted was you.

You, you, you… No one else.

It pained her to know that her actions were affecting you, especially because the last thing she ever wanted was to make you feel bad. She loved you, and she knew that when you love somebody, you want that person to be happy.

But you could never feel fine or happy without Francesca. You couldn't deny that. Nor would she, especially now that you have reunited. And now that she knew that you loved her, too.

In all honesty, you calling her darling was unexpected and spooked her more than she was willing to admit. Maybe because it was a term of endearment and no one had used it on her before, or maybe because you used it, confirming she was your darling. Yours. Oh, how much Francesca longed to be yours.

So she thought about you during the lunch at Chadwick House she was invited to attend but wasn't intending to, during the afternoon she would've spent playing pianoforte instead, and during the evening she was supposed to get ready to sleep but didn't. Her aunt went to sleep, and she did quite the opposite, sneaking to the backyard to get you flowers, and leaving her home for the purpose of finding you.

Francesca did not particularly come up with a plan, so when she saw herself in front of the entrance to Chadwick House without a way to get in, she got worried. However, she didn't have to worry for much longer because Charles opened the door some minutes later.

“Charles!” She flinched and hid her hands behind her back as he suddenly appeared in front of her with a confused frown.

“Francesca?” He grinned. “What are you doing here?”

Francesca shook her head. “I- uh… I came to- nothing! I was just- I am going back.”

“Frannie, with all due respect,” Charles sighed, grabbing her forearm to stop her from leaving. “Shut up. My sister is in her chambers. Third floor, second door to the left.”

“Sorry,” She pouted. “I guess-”

“Lord save me! You two are driving me mad!” he exclaimed as he covered his face with his hands. “Get in there, Francesca, and don't you dare leave before resolving whatever it is that you two have going.”

With that, he left her there and got on the awaiting carriage she had failed to notice before.

Francesca sighed, walking inside the house and following your brother's directions until she reached your door.

She knocked, but received no answer, so she opened the door to find your room empty. Francesca guessed that, perhaps, you had gone out for a walk, so she went downstairs and ended up looking at you from afar.

You were sitting in the swing and looking at the night sky in utter silence, and she almost didn't dare to interrupt you. She, however, had a purpose for her visit and wouldn't let the courage she had gathered go to waste.

Francesca sat silently in the swing beside yours without saying a word.

“Charles, I told you to let me be.” you groaned, looking opposite from 'his' face.

She cleared her throat. “This is not Charles.”

You turned around abruptly to face her.

Dear God.

“Francesca-” you whispered, almost not believing it. “Are you truly here?”

“Yes, I am here,” She smiled, showing you the tulip of an unknown color in the dark. “But, firstly, this is for you.”

You smiled weakly.

At the silence, she spoke. “I, uh- I had to see you.”

“What for?”

“To apologize,” she replied and sighed, getting ready for the speech she had prepared the whole afternoon. “For not coming back after dinner. I… I was scared because you called me darling, and it made me realize that I might not be… alone in these feelings I find impossible to name. It felt real out of the sudden, and I was not prepared for it. I thought about them all those days and reached to a conclusion I was dreading: that I love you. Not like a girl who is fond of her childhood best friend or like a girl who has such dear affection for a sister, no; I love you like one loves the person that is to be their spouse, their love match. I know well enough that this is not something a woman is supposed to feel for another woman, but I do, and I have reasons to believe you do as well. Please, tell me I am not alone in this feeling, for I believe that love could never be as profound as mine for you were it not reciprocated.”

You grabbed the rope of her swing and pulled her close to you. “I love you, my darling. I love you so much that I fear the word love is not enough to grasp all that I feel for you. It is pathetic, the way your proximity makes my whole being combust in yearning; it is alluring, the way your eyes can heal all that chaos when they look into mine. Having you here with me, under the full moon and in a field of violets, is the utmost proof of how sacred this love is. How sacred we must treat it. Being yours is the ultimate purpose of my existence, and I would be beyond grateful to you if you allowed me to honor it by loving you devotedly and cherishing you adoringly.”

Francesca exhaled and hesitated for a single, intrusive second. She, right then and there, kissed your lips softly. There was doubt and insecurity, but you managed to wash it out by kissing her back with a passion she couldn't have even dreamt of.

“Would you like to stay for the night? It is far too late for you to return home by yourself and we do not have another carriage available. I fear Charles will not return until tomorrow.” you proposed, standing up and offering her your hand to do so, too.

Francesca nodded, now standing as well, and staring at your lips.

You smirked, closing the distance promptly.

You did not know how to kiss, but the two of you would certainly learn that night.

Of course there was an extra room, but there was no need for that. Despite the last sleepover being five years ago, there was still this feeling of comfort and intimacy shared between you and her.

“I know that sharing a bed has never been an issue for us,” you began. “But, if you wish, I could have the help bring another bed for you.”

“No!” she exclaimed, regretting the haste and reluctance of her answer. “I mean, no. It is not necessary, for your bed is big enough for the both of us.”

You nodded with a smile. “Would you like for me to get a maid to help you get ready to sleep? I might as well call-”

“No, There should be no need. We could help each other, is that not right?” she answered shyly. You were surprised to hear that, but thought nothing of it, ignoring the warmth taking over your body at the mere idea. “I- well, I- I did not mean it like… if you… if you want to. I do not have a problem. If you do, it is alright if you-”

“Yes, it is alright.” you agreed, approaching her and pointing to the bed with your head. “I had a maid bring a sleeping chemise for you… should you like for me to-?”

She nodded, undoing her coiffure before you got to her. “Yes, I should like for you to help me now.”

Francesca didn't know what was going on in herself. Her words seemed to come out before she could process them and her intentions were rather unclear even to herself.

Now, she was in front of you. Your hesitant hands trembled lightly as you started taking her dress off. Francesca let out a soft gasp when your fingers grazed her skin, noticing your closeness as she leaned closer to you, not creating contact just yet but desiring so, so very anxiously. You started undoing her corset slowly, trying to take in every second of proximity existent between you, the fervid hunger invading the moment.

Francesca let out a shaky breath, leaning toward you and, this time, she was actually resting her weight on you timidly. She whispered your name, almost silently enough for you to not hear.

But you always heard her.

Her head was resting on your shoulder, touching your cheek with her cheekbones. “I love you.”

You kissed her cheek gently and then went to her neck. You left slight bites on her skin and moaned as she pressed herself onto you slightly more.

“I love you, too,” you reminded her, and it felt as if it was the very first time you told her so. “I will never not.”

You kissed her shoulders and put your hands on her hips.

“I think we are…” you whimpered as she intertwined your hands with hers. “We are doing something we most likely should not.”

She exhaled with difficulty. “What would that be?”

“I saw them,” you began. “Anne and Petunia, my maids, they- I saw them doing this.”

“This?”

“Making love.”

Your answer left her in a place between confusion and oblivious understanding. She knew, but also she did not.

“What does it mean?”

“I went for a late night walk in the backyard and heard some noises,” you told her. “Chadwick House is not as big as the Devereaux Manor, so we do not need as much help, nor do we have enough room for more. Some of the help that stays at the house has to share a room, so my two lady maids do. I know where their room is, so, upon hearing the sounds, I peeked through the window in case something had happened. And I saw them… As soon as my shock subsided, I ran back to my chambers, but not without seeing them like we are now. They were kissing and touching each other, nude.”

Francesca frowned. “How do you know what it is called?”

“A few days later, I asked Charles about it, but I never said I had seen them. I told him I had heard it somewhere,” you answered. “He panicked and told me not to speak of such things ever again. Then, he said those are things men and women do after they marry, but that some men do it without marrying and that it was normal, but respectable ladies like me could not do so under any circumstance… So, naturally, I ended up asking Anna about it and blaming it on Charles. She said that it is called making love and that people do it to consummate their marriage. I told her that Charles said some men do, but that ladies like me cannot, so she explained to me that it is said that women lose their worth after doing that and must be valuable for deserving a marriage. Also, we could get pregnant when doing it with a man, but men do not have to worry about themselves being with child; I, then, asked if men did it with men or women with women, and she said it was possible but not well seen at all, so I should not do it unless I love and trust the woman, but that I must be careful and not tell a soul about it because it was a display of love, goodness, and intimacy that deserves to be cherished and not broken by society's discrimination. Anne also said that it is supposed to feel quite pleasurable. That is how I know.”

She nodded, taking a few seconds to think about it and analyze the situation.

“Can we… do that?” Francesca asked, some boldness whose origin she unfortunately ignored.

“Oh,” Your eyes met hers as she turned around. “Well, if you want to… I mean, I want to, but only if you do as well, uh… Do you want to?”

“Yes, I want to make love with you.” She smiled confidently.

“Are you sure?”

“I have never been more sure of anything in my life,” Francesca assured you, giving you a quick kiss on the lips. “Can I take off your gown?”

A soft exhale left your lips at the thought. “You can take all of me, my darling.”

Francesca smiled a little, pressing her forehead to yours. Your noses brushed each other's before you kissed.

And, when it happened, you could only describe it as mystical. With her, everything felt like magic.

You thought, more often than not, that you weren't built for this world. You weren't built for this society because you wanted nothing but her and to be able to dance with her at balls, to just say ‘this is my wife’ to everyone you met, to love her freely.

You weren't built for a society that kept you away from her.

You wanted to be with her like this always, to feel the tip of her fingers brush your skin and cause goosebumps, to stand naked before her and her before you, just like you were now.

“What are we supposed to do now?” she asked.

You shrugged. “Shall we find out?”

She chuckled nervously, feeling like the fire lighting up the room was actually inside of her. Francesca nodded, giving you the needed cue to end the distance between you two and kiss her.

It was hesitant at first. You didn't know what to do with your hands, so you just put her hair behind her ear, deepened the kiss, and then cupped her face. Meanwhile, Francesca freed your hair and rested her hands on your shoulders, not knowing what to do either.

She ended the kiss, looking at you with a glint of need in her shy hazel eyes. She sighed, all her fears leaving her body with that exhale. Her hands went to the back of your neck to pull you close and began kissing there, imitating what you were doing when you helped her undress.

You held her by her waist and her hands traveled your shoulders and her fingers drew burning, irregular shapes on your back. “This feels good.”

“It does.” She smiled against your skin.

In an attempt to get closer, you put your leg between hers and pulled her until your skin was on hers. Which also meant that you were close enough for your thigh to touch her core.

The moan she let out was almost delirious and the way her hips bucked in response caused her thigh to stumble upon you.

Your eyes met, both silently agreeing that what you just did felt, oh, so good.

Francesca swallowed hard and looked down as she bucked her hips to provoke the same feeling to both of you.

“God,” you moaned, holding her tightly against you and moving like she moved. “My bed.”

When you pulled apart to go to the bed, a strange emptiness took over you. It was not only emotional, as if missing each other a bit; it was physical, too. A warm and wet something was left on your thighs as a result of your pleasure, which came as a surprise because neither of you had any idea what any of what you were doing was, but you did know how good it felt.

Once you were finally sitting on your bed, you looked at each other as if asking for permission, but then you realized how absurd it was to ask, to wait, to hesitate, so you kissed, this time hungrily and intensely. The way you clumsily returned to your previous position gave away how much you needed each other.

You were so clumsy and careless, that this time it wasn't your thighs but your cores that met, and you cried out at how terribly delicious that contact felt.

“This… feels so…” Francesca began, not able to come up with the words that could describe how she was feeling, so she just kept moving with you and moaning your name loudly.

“Good?” you panted.

“Better than- than good,” she replied, her breath labored. “Great.”

Hearing her be vocal about this was unexpected to say the least. However, you found it exciting and hot. “How do you feel, Fran?” you encouraged her to speak, craving to hear her say things about this very wonderful moment.

“Great,” she replied, a strange pressure building inside her very being. “This- I like… this.”

You kissed her eagerly, harshly, to then ask. “Do you?”

“Yes…” She nodded, kissing you again as your hands traveled to her hips and then used the contact to guide her to be faster and pull her close enough to apply more pressure.

Francesca broke the kiss, her head falling back and giving you access to her neck. You sucked her skin, beginning to notice how she had some burning red spots on the places your mouth has been to before.

A desperate moan left your lips when a sensation started to form deep inside you, and she was feeling it, too. You could only describe it as if you were running from a great distance to a cliff, and everything you were doing in the earthly world made the inside you run faster and faster until you reached the edge. And there, Francesca was waiting for you to see how you slowed down for a second, only so she could hold your hand and jump with you.

In both the earthly and imaginary world, you moaned her name loudly as you fell off the edge of the cliff, or as you came with her.

She moaned and gasped, and hid her head against your neck to muffle the sounds she was making.

“Do not hold back,” you told her, feeling your orgasm last so very long. “I wish to hear you, please.”

Francesca obeyed you, pressing her forehead to yours and moaning your name against your lips.

It was so innocent, yet so sensual. It felt right, but, oh, so immoral. And carnal. And fascinating. Scandalous, beautiful, mystical, sinful.

You didn't stop until it was too much. Her embrace didn't end, and she wanted anything but.

“I love you.” you whispered, guiding her to lie on the bed with you.

She smiled. “I love you, too.”

“I am so happy that you still had love for me.” You kissed her softly.

“I will always have love for you.” Francesca replied.

You stared at each other in silence. Her hand was on your cheek, caressing it, and yours drew delicate patterns on the soft skin of her hips.

“Can we do this again?” Francesca asked.

You smiled. “Can we?”

“I should like that.”

“Me as well.”

taglist: @swiftholic-13 @kenzieisgone @urmultifandomfan

[luna-writes-stuff]

All Of My Love, Thorin Oakenshield

Song link

Fanfic, gn! reader

Fluff, reunion fic

Word count: 2912

Tw: everyone lives because you can’t fuck corpses (necrophelia still isn’t okay, guys). Despite this comment, this fic is all fluff no smut so… Mentions/descriptions of injuries. Bathing but no insinuation. Established relationship. There is no Tauriel/Kili here so cry about it.

Summary: When the company finally reclaims Erebor, you set out on the travel to the kingdom to meet with your husband again. However, upon a arrival, you notice that a lot more is on his mind than he tends to let on. You try to comfort him the best you can.

Buy me a coffee/force me to write more

“Should I fall out of love, my fire in the light? To chase a feather in the wind.”

One thing that was worse than leaving for a suicide mission, was not going on one, then watching the one you love most take the quest. It was his given right, of course. There wouldn’t be any other who could possibly set out. But when he told you to stay, you could have sworn your stomach had begun to carry a new feeling of heavy.

There were arguments - fights over his decision, but not once did he change his mind. Not even when you tried to follow them. It was his sister who would spot you and drag your reluctant form back to camp.

When you married him, you had made a vow to never leave one another, so this had left a painful taste for you. You understood him, and you knew why he had to go. But you didn’t understand why he had wanted you to stay. Love be damned - he had promised.

The letter couldn’t come soon enough. The longer the months grew, the more anxious you became, even to the point you struggled to fall asleep. When the first letter from Erebor came, you were one of the first party members to set out for the travel. It would take days until you finally reached the mountain.

“Within the glow that weaves a cloak of delight. There moves a thread that has no end.”

Having taken over for Thorin whilst he had been gone, had gained you an insane amount of respect from the other dwarves, so the travel had been relatively easy for you. But the moment you stood mere miles from the mountain, you had to halt for a moment, and let everything properly sink in.

The letter announcing Erebor had been reclaimed had come from him; you knew he was alive. But his sentences were brief and straight to the point. And you weren’t used to that kind of writing from him. It had worried you. Sure, he might have been fine, but what of the others? You truly had no way of telling.

“Shall we continue, my lady?” One of your companions asked, ripping you from your thoughts. You spared him a curt nod, and with that, the group continued walking again. Your anxieties would have to wait.

“For many hours and days that pass ever soon. The tides have caused the flame to dim.”

The travel through Dale had been heartwrenching. Mankind had still been rebuilding the city, but the state of the buildings and streets had been pathetic beyond words. You couldn’t imagine having been here whilst the dwarves were reclaiming the mountain. Shallow stares and brief nods were thrown your way as you climbed towards the entrance of Erebor.

When you reached the huge entrance, the air got stuck in your throat. From behind you, you heard some companions sob with glee - some even falling to the floor. You had reached the mountain proclaimed to have been impossible to enter. And the mere sight of it had shaken you to your core.

A figure neared you from a distance, and you had to squint to be able to tell the distinct features. A gasp of surprise left you as you took off running, nearing the figure quicker than he could reach you.

“Dwalin!” You exclaimed happily, pulling him into an embrace as you reached him - one he quickly returned. “Lass, we’ve been waiting for you!” He laughed heartily. It briefly made you forget the turmoil in your body earlier.

“Get in! It’s freezing out here.” He spoke as he parted from you, then gesturing for your company to follow him. After years of mourning and months of longing, you were finally back home.

“At last the arm is straight, the hand to the loom. Is this to end or just begin?”

A room had been appointed to you quickly, giving you your time to bathe and get dressed. As you stepped foot into the tub, you quickly noticed your reddened skin, likely from the freezing cold outside. You involuntarily shivered at it, the water feeling almost boiling. You tried to resist the feeling, clutching the edges of the tub tightly. Leaning your head down, you gave your body time to adjust to the heat, clenching your eyes shut at the burning sensation.

“Do not break the tub, please.” An all-too-familiar baritone once rang through the room, immediately causing your head to snap up. You must have been too caught up in the sudden temperature shift to have noticed him entering your chamber.

“Thorin,” You sighed relieved, getting out of the bath as quickly as you could, hissing at the biting cold now gnawing on your skin. You fell into Thorin’s embrace as he wrapped his arms around you, clutching you tightly. He fumbled for the edges of his coat, before covering you in them as well, now holding you against his shirt.

“You had me worried ill,” you mumbled, your head buried in the crook of his neck as you relished under his warm touch. “Ghivashel, I wanted nothing more than to write you every day.” He returned, his voice now equally hushed as his hands seemed to grip you even tighter.

“All of my love, all of my love All of my love to you. All of my love, all of my love All of my love to you.”

You might have stood there for minutes, but when you parted, it was still too soon for you. You noticed the faint distress on his face, though it wasn’t enough to immediately alert you. You didn’t know what he had been through, and you wouldn’t ask him just yet. For now, you were simply glad to be reunited with him.

“Get back into your bath,” Thorin spoke, observing your shivering figure. You dismissed him, reaching for the towel. “It can wait.”

However, before you could wrap the fabric around you, his hand halted you. Gently holding your upper arm, he turned you to face him. You didn’t feel ashamed under his gaze. If anything, you felt confident under it. “I’d rather not have you sick,” He mumbled. “You only just got here.”

That made you smile slightly, laying the towel back on its earlier place. You reached your hand up, your fingers lingering on his marital braid, toying with the bead slightly. It had clearly been polished.

“Will you join me?”

“The cup is raised, the toast is made yet again. One voice is clear above the din.”

And that is where you had found yourself right now, in the arms of the dwarf you had fallen for so many years ago, as naked as the day you were born. The water was a warm blanket around you, and his arms were a welcomed addition. You were gently scrubbing the dirt from your arms when your eyes fell upon his leg. Unable to surprise the hiss escaping your mouth, you turned to look at him.

“How did that happen?” You questioned worriedly, before your eyes fell back on his mangled leg. Bruises and cuts littered it, but most apparent of all was the huge cut on his foot. You resisted the urge to lean down and touch it.

“Azog,” He answered through a whisper, sending shivers down your spine. “Azog?” You repeated, looking at him incredulously. “I thought he had died.” “As did I,” He confessed. “But he is truly defeated this time. I made sure of it.”

You didn’t ask him about it. It seemed to not be something he wanted to talk about. Instead, you grabbed one of his arms, wrapping yours around it as you leaned back against his chest. Thorin seemed to relax under the notion, his head coming to rest atop yours. It had given you the perfect opportunity to obverse further extent of his injuries.

“Proud Arianne one word, my will to sustain. For me, the cloth once more to spin, oh.”

“How is the rest?” You wondered after a while, the question almost hesitant on your lips. “Alive,” He answered, the rumble of his voice reverberating through his chest. “Not in great shape.”

Though they were at least alive, it had been what you feared. It must have been the reason he had been so curt over his letter. His mind was easily preoccupied, and the thoughts of his companions in agony would be enough to leave him distracted.

“Your nephews?” You risked, a lump forming in your chest. He was silent for a while, before finally answering: “Fili is on bed rest. Should be back up in a matter of days. Kili doesn’t really talk. Rarely left his brother’s side.”

You hummed in understanding, rubbing soothing patterns over Thorin’s arm. “Reminds me of someone who wouldn’t leave his sister’s side after she fell out of that tree.”

Thankfully, that managed to get something similar to a chuckle out of his throat.

“All of my love, all of my love, All of my love to you. All of my love, all of my love, yes, All of my love to you.”

“They’ll live,” He continued. “I think Kili is more heartbroken than physically injured.” “Naturally,” You tried to understand. “He and his brother are close.” “It’s not that.” Thorin sighed, as if the topic hadn’t been one he would love to discuss.

He placed a kiss on the top of your head before continuing: “He has it out for an elf-maiden.” You let out a quiet ‘ah’ of understanding. “Don’t think the feeling is mutual.” You were silent at that, shaking your head in sadness. “Poor lad.”

“Yes,” Thorin agreed. “I might have let him run off with her if she had returned his efforts.” “Wow,” You added, slightly stunned. “Who are you and what have you done with my husband?”

Another chuckle came from him as he kissed your shoulders, his head now resting beside yours. “He had an awakening. Years too late.” “Yes, well,” You sighed. “The elves are douchebags.” A third chuckle came from him upon your words, his hair falling over your shoulders, the cold metal of the beads creating goosebumps over your skin. It had been a while since you had been so close to him, and the feeling of it had been better than you had originally remembered.

“Yours is the cloth, mine is the hand that sews time. His is the force that lies within.”

Silence struck the pair of you, both of you lost in your thoughts. There were so many things you still wanted to ask him, but you’d wait for debriefing tomorrow. Meanwhile, Thorin had too many things he wanted to tell you. He wanted to tell you about his new friend, about the battle with Azog, the fight against Azog, the reclaiming of Erebor… But there was one thought he couldn’t manage to shake. It was almost as if it was begging to come out.

“I lost my mind, amrâlime,” His voice suddenly cut through the room. “I think you would have left me if you had seen me.” His tone had a much more sombre sound to it than it had held earlier. You could hear him swallow before he continued: “I would have.”

You wanted to turn around in his arms, facing him completely, but his arms wouldn’t let you. He probably didn’t want to let you take a proper look at his face - a notion you hated, but you respected it for now. Instead, you looked at him over your shoulder, your face etched in concern. “Thorin, what happened?”

Another silence split the room, causing your heart rate to pick up slightly. You knew what had happened to his grandfather, and how frightened he had been that it would happen to him too. You remember having to reassure him for weeks before he left that he was stronger than his grandfather. Deep down, you hoped he had just lashed out at the elves and that that had been it.

But fate wouldn’t have it.

“Ours is the fire, all the warmth we can find. He is a feather in the wind, oh.”

“The gold. It got hold of me.” He admitted, his voice almost inaudible had you not been sitting this close to him. His breath was hot on your neck, making you aware of what exactly your proximity was. It wasn’t as if the warm skin on skin contact couldn’t tell that. “I almost killed my company,” He went on, “I let everyone outside Erebor suffer. They were begging for shelter and I let them freeze to death.”

And just like that, you were at loss for words. His greatest fear happened to him. That would explain his letter, and his adamence in revealing anything. If it had shaken you just half as much as it shook you, you couldn’t blame him for any of his actions. You swallowed thickly, doing your best to soothe him: “Did you avenge them?” “I should have let them in.” He ignored.

You sighed at him, understanding his conflict. “Yes,” You admitted. “But did you avenge them?”

He seemed to think that over, seemingly unsure of what to answer. “I fought for all of them.” He ultimately muttered, simultaneously dropping a huge weight from your shoulders.

“Good.” You whispered.

“All of my love, all of my love, All of my love to you. All of my love, all of my love to you now.”

He didn’t respond to that. You didn’t blame him. You felt for the conflict in his head - it was happening in yours as well. Be that as it may, it was up to you now to soothe him. To comfort him in any way you could. And since he wouldn’t allow you to turn around, words would have to work.

“A good king makes wrong decisions, but he always tries to make up for them.” You advised, toying with the ring on his finger. The gesture didn’t go unnoticed to him. It slowly brought him back from his thoughts, but he wasn’t out of the woods just yet: “Wrong decisions don’t include letting the helpless die when I could have easily prevented that.”

You resisted the urge to utter another sigh. Of course this lay heavy on his mind, but what was done was done. He of all people should know this: “You and I have both seen what madness gold brings with it. I think it is a miracle it no longer affects you. Perhaps for the best.”

With those words, he let out a low hum, a first sign of agreement. He knew you were right. But he had promised to never fall under that forsaken dragon spell, and it had taken hold on him as easily as it was to count to three. The idea that it could still happen again frightened him.

“All of my love, all of my love All of my love, love, sometimes, sometimes. Sometimes, sometimes, oh love.”

“I cannot enter the treasure room.” He confessed, the truth sounding even harder when it was spoken aloud. “You don’t have to.” You comforted. “I’d rather you keep from gold than risk losing your mind again. I’d much rather have you like this.”

At last, he allowed you to turn in his arms, his grip loosening slightly. You took the opportunity immediately, putting your legs on either side of his body as you sat in front of him. Now you could see his broken expression.

“Would you have a broken king?”

You gave him a sympathetic smile, grabbing both his hands as you squeezed them in reassurance: “I would have a broken man.”

“It’s all my love All of my love, all of my love, to you now.”

“What happened was unfortunate, I understand.” You emphasised. "But we cannot turn back time.”

One of your hands trailed up to reach his cheek, rubbing it gently, relishing under the touch of his stubble. “Don’t dwell on what could have been. Your company has lived, that is enough. The people have Dale. You did it, Thorin.” He nodded at your words, closing his eyes in silent bliss, leaning into your touch.

“Thank you.” He hummed, before his hands found your back, pulling you against his chest, your skin flush to his. You could feel the burdens lifting from his body in one long sigh, his arms coming to a gentle rest around your figure, his head thrown back in relaxation. Then, he spoke up again: “I haven’t returned to the throne room since the battle.” “I could walk with you.” You offered.

You felt his head shift slightly to look back down at you. “I want you to walk with me everywhere.” You smiled against his chest, kissing it softly. “I can do that.” A hum of content rumbled through him, his voice now a much looser tone. “I am glad you are in my arms again. I’ve missed you.” “The feeling is mutual.” You assured, a fond smile crossing your features.

“Good,” He mumbled. “I love you, amrâlime.” The words shot new butterflies through your stomach, something he always managed to do, regardless how long the two of you had been together. You chuckled at the sound, making yourself comfortable against him.

“I love you.”

“All of my love, all of my love, all of my love to, to you, you, you. I get a little bit lonely.”

[preet-01]

Maxiel and reincarnation

N — Reincarnation (Doppelgängers)

cw: death

“I am yours, now and forever,” Daniel vows as they stand in front of the tree. Were it not for the tears staining Daniel’s face and the blood running down Max’s face, it would be the most beautiful moment in time.

“I am yours, forevermore,” Max vows, holding onto Daniel as tightly as he can. Soon they’ll be overrun by barbarians coming to kill them all. But for a few moments, he is Daniel’s and Daniel is his. And when that’s the case, not even the worst situation could be scary or bad.

_____

Max always remembers that lifetime first, long before they ever meet. Remember isn’t the right word for it, he dreams it. Well, dream isn’t the perfect descriptor, it’s more of a nightmare that never ends or leaves him alone.

He remembers standing there, hoping, praying that there would be divine intervention to save them. But the gods were cruel. There was no salvation, only torture.

He remembers Daniel being ripped out of his arms and then Daniel being ripped apart. He remembers screaming, he still feels that ache in his throat. He remembers and remembers each and every death, every tragedy until it repeats again in an endless cycle of damnation.

Daniel never remembers that first lifetime. Or the second, and certainly not the 16th. The boon of dying first, they’d said during the 10th reincarnation. Max is glad of it. He wouldn’t wish that fate on his worst enemy, much less his beloved.

This Daniel doesn’t remember him yet because they haven’t met yet. Max has made it so.

The sooner they meet, the sooner Max watches Daniel die. And Max can’t go through that again. He can’t keep watching Daniel die just a few steps away from him as he’s unable to do anything. Max can’t and he won’t.

Daniel doesn’t make it easy though. Their paths cross time after time. They need to meet for their intended path to go on as it has for centuries now.

Max is only able to avoid it for so long before their paths cross and Daniel sees him. That's the thing about Daniel in every reincarnation, once their eyes meet, he can't stay away. No matter how much Max makes himself undesirable, Daniel keeps coming back. And Max is weak when it comes to Daniel's undivided attention.

"I can't keep doing this, Daniel," Max states as he holds Daniel tightly in his arms. Now that they've met and fallen in love, he doesn't know how long they have before they're pulled apart. He doesn't know how long he has until he has to watch Daniel's death for the 33rd time.

"What if we didn't have to?" Daniel questions. He'd remembered their past lives - all except the first, second, and sixteenth of course. "Maybe dying together is what stops the cycle," he suggests and it is something they'd never tried before.

Poison is surprisingly easy to find.

_______

It doesn't work.

They have a 34th lifetime where Max meets Formula One driver Daniel. And a 35th, a 36th, and so on. Endlessly meeting one another and dying.

Max curses the gods with each lifetime, but never Daniel.

[tttovarichhh]

Die or fuck

And Rick Grimes has nowhere to run again. From Negan, from his responsibilities, from himself. From himself first and foremost.

"Eh Rick, well what am I supposed to do with you?"

Negan grins crookedly, arching his back, stretching. Rick is sickened by that grin, so catlike that it makes Grimes want to howl. Perhaps only dog-like behaviour can resist Negan's endless desire to break, to appropriate, after smiling sweetly, smashing another innocent's skull with a bat.

"I've given away more than half of what we have. Alexandria has to survive somehow too, we don't collect tribute from other settlements like some."

"Oh, I don't even know who we're talking about," Negan whispers, bending down to Grimes' ear. The whisper sends a wave of goosebumps through Rick's body and he cringes, trying to push the intrusive thoughts out of his head. The thoughts swarm beneath his skull, screaming for the lips that are so close they could bite in, licking away the blood.

No, Rick, hell no, get a grip.

"Rickii? I'm still here," Negan leans against the wall next to Grimes, literally backing Rick into a corner. He rests the bat on the shoulder of the man across from him and smiles again, running his tongue along the white row of teeth. And Rick gasps.

"What do you want from me?" Rick literally whispers on an exhale, hearing the voice betray him. Fuck.

"From you? Oh, Rick, I've already got quite a list assembled. Do you want it alphabetical or by date?"

Grimes feels queasy. He averts his eyes, examining the clock on the wall. Rick has never once seen it working - time had stopped in Alexandria even before Grimes' group showed up at the settlement and sometimes he really thinks, what if they'd never ended up here in the first place? What if Negan hadn't turned out to be an enemy, but a friend with whom they would have literally ripped off neighbouring villages together? No, that's impossible. At the very least, because Grimes has a concept of morals and principles, the bastard on the contrary doesn't.

"Yeah, Ricky, you're getting boring," the bat slides down his shoulder closer to his throat and Grimes feels the wire digging into his skin.

"I don't have time for fun. Especially when my men are being robbed."

"Rick, relax. I don't like boring people. They don't live much, especially around me."

Negan touches Grimes' chin with his fingers with a glove, slides cheekbone line, and then raises the man's head sharply to meet his eyes.

"And something has changed, hasn't it? In those eyes. And that's what I like."

"I don't understand," he tries to lower his gaze, but Negan won't let him, still holding him firmly by the chin.

"Oh, come on. Or am I affecting you so much that something in your head shuts off? Oh yeah, I can see it in your eyes. Ricky, Ricky Grimes, who would have thought you'd break down like that?"

"Enough."

Negan grins, pressing Grimes sharply against the wall in the very corner, gently sliding his fingers from his cheekbones down Rick's neck to the collar of his shirt.

"No, that's not how it works. Not with me. You know, it was on the list from the beginning, but I wanted to break you a little longer. But why, really? It's all clear enough."

"Negan, please," Rick whispers barely audible, closing his eyes and pressing his whole body into the wall. The very same swarm of thoughts is now buzzing in his head, crowding out all other thoughts, especially the remnants of sanity.

"Die or fuck. You don't have a choice. No, there is a choice - me or Lucille drinking your blood."

And Rick surrenders. To Negan and to himself, to his vows and beliefs and confessions. Rick surrenders, pitching forward, touching his lips to Negan's, cursing himself for this weakness. His heart repeats the dead loop from the Independence Day airshow he loved to watch with Carl, travelling to another state on purpose. Right now, Grimes is the same plane pilot who makes the fatal mistake of falling out of his seat, forgetting to fasten his seatbelt and finding himself at the mercy of the elements. And the elements suck him in, kissing him back, predatory, impatient, playing with his tongue. Rick melts, biting the man's lower lip, tasting his blood like it's as important to him as water and food. God, this is unbearable.

"Whoa, someone wants it all at once," Negan laughs hoarsely, only pressing his body harder against Rick's, closing off any possible avenues of escape. And Grimes doesn't even think about retreating.

"Maybe that was on my list, too?"

Negan only grins at those words, setting the bat aside, close enough to reach if necessary, and kisses Rick again, moving down to his neck, licking the scratches left by the wire. Rick buries his fingers in Negan's hair, pulling away the back of his head as if still trying to fight.

"Why you?"

"Because I can kill you, but you can never kill me. And that turns you on."

"Bastard," Grimes hisses, clinging to Negan's lips again as if it were his lifeline, which in fact only drags him down harder.

Negan's fingers slide under Rick's t-shirt, tugging at his ribs and the short scars between them and Grimes moans softly as the Saviours leader touches an old scar from a former life without zombies or questions about his own sexuality.

[meraki-yao]

Dropping in to say your crying at the vows Payneland was SUPERB! Is it too late for 🤬 Payneland? If so no stress at all! Your writing is awesome!

Hi! Oh my God, thank you so much! I'm glad you liked the last one! Thank you for the prompt and sorry for this being late!

🤬Argument with a family member

This is a human/alive AU by the way!

TW: Paul Rowland being a homophobic, abusive asshole, homophobic slurs

Charles freezes, his fiancé’s hand tightening on his arm. Standing in front of their wedding venue entrance, arguing with the security, is his father who he hasn’t seen in years. After struggling through university on his own and meeting Edwin Payne, he took off and ran far away from home, cutting all contact with his parents while building a new home with the love of his life. A few years down the line, he and Edwin created a cipher to communicate with his mother. But throughout all of this, they have deliberately steered clear of his father. His father, who beat him senseless; his father, who locked his lanky teenage self in the basement that he lived in since he was five; his father, who nearly ripped his pierce off his ear, calling him homophobic slur years before he came to terms with his bisexuality. After Charles confessed his trauma after a particularly violent nightmare, Edwin had held him and promised that he would never let Paul Rowland near him ever again. Charles had gripped his boyfriend’s waist and promised the same: he cannot ever let his father lay a hand on sweet, gentle, loving Edwin. But he’s here now, at their rehearsal dinner, and he can’t help but freeze at the sight. Why? How? What is he doing here? How did he find him out after so long? What do I do now? Charles’ eyes meet his dad’s and the next thing he knows, Paul Rowland is pushing the security guard to the ground and comes marching their way, the rage on his face horrifyingly familiar. He has to move, he has to leave, he has to protect Edwin— But he can’t move. He’s frozen in place, legs turned to jelly. He wants to scream and cry but only quick puffs of breaths come out. Just before his dad can shout a curse at them, Edwin suddenly steps forward, pushing Charles behind him. “Excuse me, sir.” He says eerily calmly, which is a sign that he’s actually angry. “I don’t believe you’re invite to this function. You are trespassing right now, please kindly leave the premise before we have to call the authorities.” “Move out of the way, you fag. I’m here to talk to my son.” Paul Rowland growls, and Charles flinches, he wants to grab Edwin’s hand and run. “As you can clearly see, Charles does not want to talk to you. Now, leave.” Edwin continue, not phased by the slur. “CHARLES! YOU FUCKING USELESS PIECE OF SHIT, HIDING BEHIND A FAIRY?” The familiar roar rings in Charles’ ear. He can’t fucking breathe oh God oh fuck— BAM! Edwin, his sweet Edwin who has always gravitated to words, who he has tried to get into boxing without much success, punches his dad square in the jaw. Both Rowlands stare at him in shock. “YOU FUCKER! HOW DARE YOU—” “No, you listen here.” Edwin states, a dangerous edge in his voice. “We have given you multiple warnings. I will not allow you to come here, ruin our joyous occasion and do any harm to my fiancé, physical or otherwise. The police can deal with you now, we’re done here.” He lays a hand on Charles’ back, gentle despite the situation, and leads him away as the police who have finally arrived come and pull his dad away for questioning. They’ll need to provide their recount too, but Edwin insisted that they’ll deal with that later. They enter the dressing room of the venue where Charles collapses onto a chair. Edwin kneels before him, hand cupping his cheek, thumb swiping under his eyes. “Charles, please tell me what’s going on.” “No, it’s nothing, I’ll be fine I— Holy shit, Edwin, you punched my dad!” “Yes well, I very well couldn’t stand there and let him cause you even more distress, and he was clearly not going to listen to a word I say, sometimes actions do speak louder than words.” Charles pulls Edwin into his lap and wraps his arm around his waist, nose buried in his neck, breathing the familiar scent. Edwin’s hand goes to his curls as he presses kisses on to the top of his head. God, how lucky is he, to have such a wonderful person to call his? “We’ll be alright, my love,” Edwin whispers. “I promise, we’ll be alright.” Charles has never doubted him.

[mayhemscorner]

Oblivion Beneath Vows

Terzo x f!reader

18+ Minors DNI

Summary: Reader cannot produce an heir, leading to tension in the abbey. Will she be able to stay as a sister? Will Terzo even care?

Warnings: Soft core SMUT, ANGST, injuries, mentions of blood and abuse. Topics may be sensitive, theres also some fluff. I apologize in advance.

“Do you mean what you say?”

His voice clips loudly through the marble halls, for once, it was a tone of destruction. A tone so deep it rattled my rib cage and felt as if it would send the mausoleum shattering down. It was a dark contrast to his usual sultry and even light tone. I can only backpedal pathetically in my state of confusion. I was being accused of something I knew nothing of, and even worse it has possibly sent the most cool headed figure in this hell forsaken place in to a fit of mania.

“Answer me!” He seethes out, stalking at an unsettling pace towards me, black shoes clacking monotonously down the eerily white halls. 

“P-papa I-“ I begin to stutter, back scraping against the cool stone behind me, emitting a gasp as I recoil forward at the sensation. My body jerks once again at the grasp of his hand clamping down on my shoulder, eyes scanning my every movement,” T-Terzo, this isn’t like you.”

“You-“ he begins, pausing to run his free hand in to his already disheveled hair and letting out a maniacal laugh,” you have betrayed this Abbey, tainted it!” 

His voice only raises, becoming more feral with every word, bubbles of spit begin to perspire as if rabies itself had claimed him. In this state, I’m guiltily starting to wonder if it had.

His hand clutching against me tightens, accidentally sending my head smacking in to the tomb behind me and legs threatening to collapse below me. My only instinct is to claw frantically against his gloved hand as it starts to burn against me, searching his mismatched eyes for any sign of remorse,” I’ve done nothing but hold this abbey together in your absence!”

“Lies!” He spits out, the other hand  gripping against the top of my head, ripping the veil away and destroying what had been left of my modesty… my humility. In moments like this, I understand why we praise hell over heaven. The darkness in this world consuming everything it touches, it’s now rare to see the light of innocence. Those lucky enough to see it, are damned to watch it fade just as quickly as it had appeared. A baby only coo’s for so long. A hunter must eventually kill its prey it admires from afar. Mothers in this world now have to watch their children die at the hands of others. And in moments like this, it is why I understand I was chosen to live a life of sin, because anything innocent… disgusted me. The first time I had ever laid eyes on a child, I had vowed that my legacy wouldn’t continue. I had been cursed regardless. Innocence was a pitiful ideology in this world and as the world before me escapes in a flutter of stars and blackness as his hand snakes around my throat, I can only smile. If I was damned to hell, i invited it with open arms. 

But it never came, and as oxygen stings its way back in, my body crashes to the floor. I stare in horror, matching his own face as he looks at the hand that was just at my throat like it was the most vile thing that ever graced the earth. My lungs ache, gasping for air as the confusion sets in,” why are you doing this?”

“If you wish to leave this abbey, then I shall strip you of your habits myself.” He answers coldly, reaching for the front of my dress. My hand slaps his own away,” and where would you have gotten the idea that I’d just leave? Just to run away from the only thing in my life that has any meaning? To run away from you.”

His eye twitches, accentuating the phosphorus white that was the sign of the Emeritus bloodline. His hand once again reaches out to me, this time coiling his fingers in my hair and lulling my head up to face him directly,” these walls may not be thin, but there are still ways to hear, Y/N! I heard you talking to Nihil!”

My heart sinks, the pain against my scalp dulls as my veins fill with ice. It had been a set up all along. Something sinister is happening in the abbey, and it was Terzo and I who would pay. I can only bite my lip in worry as his other hand raises,” at least say something!”

My throat tries forming words, watching as tears threaten to spill over his lashes, but I can only choke on everything I’ve wanted to say. Nihil wanted me gone for refusing to produce an heir, Sister Imperator refused to even look my way, but I seen almost a glimpse of satisfaction whenever she would walk by. I couldn’t even repent at this point, knowing this had probably been on Terzo’s mind as well, and we weren’t getting any younger. The brutal reality, I was infertile, unable to produce an heir even if I had wanted too. But was I supposed to tell the truth in a moment like this? Would Terzo even believe me at this point? Would it be better if he just never knew, then only one of us would be to blame.

“Terzo- I’m… sorry.” I whisper, only looking away as I feel his hands tear the fabric just above my breasts, leaving me shivering in shock and coldness. 

“So be it.” He swallows, turning away, yelling one last time in anger and sending a fist against the wall before leaving angrily down another hall. I grasp at my shoulder, feeling the raised marks from his hand, thankful that if I must be parting, I’d at least have something to remember him by for a few days. I cant tell if the tear sliding against my hot cheeks was from pain or sorrow… maybe even regret for not telling the truth. But if it was one thing I learned, Nihil and sister Imperator were not a force to be messed with. The healing flesh on my back was a constant reminder. The first conversation with Nihil had me sent to a barren room as other sisters had lashed me, all quietly apologizing as it had been their own form of torture as well. Even in a satanic church, punishment was frowned upon and only used when necessary. I messily gather my tattered robes, holding them at my chest to save what modesty I had left for anyone that had been cursed with crossing my path on the way back to my chambers. As I stumble down the halls in a sweaty daze, a small gasp rings from behind me,” oh, sister! What’s happened?”

“Ive been stripped of my habits.” I sniffle out coldly, composing myself as the ghoul comes in to view. I can see her eyes widen in shock behind the mask concealing her ghoulish features, all but her glowing and ominous eyes. I look down, finally taking in the state I was in. Fingers smeared with dried blood, no doubt from Terzo, and flushed skin peeking from my torn clothing. Even through that, I was never hit, and I had realized most of the things that Terzo had done to me were all in a safe manner, and never meant to truly hurt me. She sneaks in to an open room, retrieving a blanket and throwing it over my shoulders,” was that… the yelling I heard?”

I can only move forward in a daze, the whole altercation was hazy as other things flashed before me. Terzo had to be discussing with Nihil that a sister had been stripped of her habits, especially the one closest to him. If I don’t leave here soon, I can only imagine the punishment I’d receive if Nihil were to see me.

“Must’ve been something else.” I mumble blankly, wiping the corner of the blanket against my face and watching as the salty tears embedded in the fabric before moving on to my room. Im starting to wonder if heaven was barren, as the only form of innocence is standing before me, and they had been sent directly from hell. I deflect her arm that reaches to interlock with mine,” sister, please let me help you! I know this must be tough for you and I-“

“Please, just let me be! I’m fine! I need to go pack my bags.” I clip back, cutting her off and entering my room. I feel her eyes watch my every move, only briefly turning away as I strip my habits and throw them angrily at the wall. My eyes sting as I watch the past ten years of my life fall to the ground, sending my own feral instinct in to full force. Wearing only my undergarments, I throw the bedside lamp at the wall, followed by anything that could be lifted. I grip the dresser and topple it over as footsteps clammer in the hallway and the ghoul grabs me gently. It was like the stories of warriors after a loss, destroying any possession they had as if they didn’t deserve it in the first place. I felt like a warrior, but honestly what have I ever fought for? I once again find myself on the cool floor, finally hitting rock bottom and locking eyes on the dusty suitcase under my bed as if it were mocking me. A sob wracks my body and the ghoul runs a gentle hand through my hair and  hums a melodic tune,” sister, I’m just going to close the door, you at least deserve the privacy.”

Her hum continues as she scurries to the door, making it a second too late as a foot stops the door from closing. My fingers grab against the robe by my bed, quickly throwing it on as the other figure steps in.

“Cumulus, give us a moment please.” Nihil wheezes out. I can’t help but to grit my teeth to the point of hearing a crack,” you’ve won, I’m on my way out if you’ll at least allow me to pack.”

“Out? You have not been stripped of your robes, sister. But I do advise you stop dawdling with Terzo. Ive seen the destruction you two have caused and our bloodline must continue.” He says, completely clueless to earlier events and only pointing at the destruction of the room. 

I sigh, pulling my face in to my hands in frustration, “Terzo stripped me of my habit, and with him as acting Papa, I must comply to him. I no longer have duties to carry out within the abbey.” 

“Nonsense, I am Papa. You are done when I say you are done, sister.” Nihil laughs, pointing to his robes ceremoniously, causing the most guttural laugh I’ve emitted in my life,” Terzo is my only Papa. I spent years serving Terzo, not you. This is not your choice, it’s his… and his only.”

He bends down, picking up my lamp and casting his ghostly white eyes unto me,” I would watch your tongue. I still have say here, and Terzo would be nowhere without me. Now tell me, how did he handle the news you were leaving of your own free will?”

“You made sure he heard only part of our conversation… it was you!” I utter in disbelief. The moment it happened flashes before my eyes as it all clicks together…

“Y/N, if you do not choose to produce an heir then I suggest you leave of your own free will. The bloodline as you know is critical for the abbey.” Sister Imperator waves dismissively on the other side of the table.

“Sister Imperator, I- I can’t.” I mumble back, twisting my hands together in my lap and looking between the two nervously.

“Then what are you saying child?” Nihil gasps out, leaning over the table to stare at me.

“I cannot produce an heir, I’m sorry.” I wince back. 

“Those are not the words I’m looking for.” Sister Imperator clears her throat, kicking me against the shin gently under the table,” what you are trying to say is you are leaving of your own free will.”

“Just give me some time to think this through!” I plead, not yet ready to reveal the truth for Terzo’s sake… even for mine at this point. 

“Promise me, sister.” She rings out impatiently.

“If I do not produce an heir… then-“ I begin only to be cut off as a knock rings against the door,” then, what?”

“Then I shall leave the abbey of my own free will.” I gasp out, realizing the commitment I had just made, excusing myself abruptly and opening the door to see no one there.

Her sinister smile is like a neon light shadow after staring at it for too long, etched across my vision as I comeback to the here and now, only to be faced with a similar smile on Nihil’s face,” ill let you pack your things. I do hope the journey home is… peaceful.”

Nihil takes his leave, causing me to send the lamp against the closing door in another fit of rage. I stuff what I can in my suitcase, and open the door to a life I barely knew, a life without the abbey. A life without Terzo. I finish ripping my veil and hang it on the outside doorknob, listening to the sound of squeaky wheels against cold stone. 

“You aren’t leaving! No!” Cumulus appears from thin air, trying to pull me back,” I heard everything! You need to tell Terzo!”

I stop in my tracks and scoff, turning towards her,” and tell him what? That they’re right? I can’t produce an heir, so what good am I?”

“Can’t… or won’t?” She chirps in confusion. I shake my head and tighten my eyes in frustration,” both.”

“There’s gotta be a way around it! Nihil is already decommissioning Terzo, next Friday!” Cumulus quips out, quickly placing a hand over her mouth as if she wasn’t supposed to say anything. i can feel the sensation of needles prickling at my back,” what do you mean?”

“I shouldn’t have said that! No one must know! She has found a successor… I’ve already said too much!” She tries to backpedal but fails tremendously. I could sense the danger, but would Terzo even hear me out? I decide there was no time to think, only time to warn him even if he resented the very ground I walk on. Cumulus once again tries to hold me back,” you can’t tell him! Please, sister!”

“What else are we supposed to do? What if they hurt him?” I whisper as footsteps sound for the third time this night, revealing Terzo himself.

“What if they hurt who?” He calls out, gently sidling up, yet refusing to make eye contact. 

“I have to go…” Cumulus whimpers out, retreating through a dark door and disappearing without a trace. The two of us remain, sitting in an uncomfortable silence that could be cut, even with a dull knife. 

“Y/N… I came to apologize, but I assume there is nothing I can do to make you change your mind after my outburst.” Terzo mumbles, sliding his hand down his other arm nervously. I sigh, dropping my head and remember why I was leaving in the first place, it was he who had stripped my habit after all,” It seems your mind was already made. You aren’t one to go back on your word, and I should leave before you feel anymore shame for something that isn’t even your fault.”

His hand reaches against my shoulder, moving the robe to expose the raw skin below. I look over to see his bloodstained glove with red and swollen scratches peeking from beneath. Our own faults clash together in that moment, revealing neither of us was the bigger person, both reacting how predator and prey were destined to act… in a fit of survival. A sore reminder neither of us were the predator in this situation, only the prey fending for their lives without knowledge of anything else. His lips meet my shoulder, the pain mixed with longing of his soft presence unlike earlier,” do you truly wish to leave? It is because of me, no?”

My hand threads through his still messy hair as my head drops against his forehead,” it is not my choice if that’s what you’re asking.” 

His wavering hand dances across my back, dropping my robe lower to trace my bare spine, checking for other injuries.

“Terzo, i’m fine.” I assure him, pulling my gaze upwards to meet his own. Tears blur his perfect eyes,” Cara Mia… who did this?”

His finger traces a healing scab from the lashes before tossing the torn habit from my doorknob and entering the poor state of my room. Terzo quickly locks the door and crashes against the bed, hunched over and grabbing a fistful of the bedding in anger,” how many times has this happened?”

“I-it’s not often, I deserv-“ he raises a finger, cutting me off,” How many times, Y/N?”

“…a few.” I exhale, still standing near the door. Terzo’s mangled breathing reveals his panic, as his hands pull against his hair,” why didn’t you tell me?”

“Terzo… I couldn’t.” I stifle out, cautiously walking up beside him and sitting down. His eyes return to the crazed state I had seen earlier in his fit of rage.

“It was my father.” He seethes out. I can only swallow, not even daring to nod. He goes to leave, only being stopped by my tight grasp, loosening at his wince of pain and the feeling of fresh blood. 

“It was my fault.” I plea, searching his face to see if relaxes before I continue,” I can’t produce an heir… it was deserved.”

Terzo dons a look of confusion,” when did I ever say I desired an heir? Is this… is this the fault of your lashings?”

I nod, confusion creeping across my own face,” you aren’t mad?”

“This is why you are choosing to leave the abbey? I’m in no need of an heir, this disgraced bloodline has no reason to continue… I’m sure Nihil has plenty of bastard children doing the work anyways.” He chuckles out, shoulders finally dropping.

“Nihil said it was imperative, that if I didn’t, I should leave of my own free will, I was made to promise.” I stutter out. He nods,” as I’ve heard. I feel we have fallen victim to a coup d'etat of sorts, cara Mia.”

“That’s not all… they plan to remove you from your position. I wasn’t supposed to hear.” I whisper, breathing heavily from his close proximity. He only smiles, leaning over me and pushing me across the bed,” then there is no need for me to make an heir if they already plan on replacing me, no? But, we can at least practice the motions…”

He places a kiss where my jaw meets my ear, snapping his head to nibble against my lobe. 

“Terzo…” I trail off, lost in the unique patterns his hands weave across my body,” I must kiss any wrongdoings I have made away, and I apologize in advance, because this may take all night.”

“You can’t quite kiss with anything other than your lips, dear.” I laugh, patting softly at the hardening bulge against my waistline. He only chuckles against my neck,” I did apologize in advance for keeping you up all night.”

His teeth graze against the vein in my neck, trailing down to my collarbone and nipping playfully,” that’s not a kiss!” 

“Sorry, sorry!” He groans jokingly, eyes becoming hooded with intimate desire and coming up to rest his hands on each side of my face,” I must warn you, you could possibly die from a kiss this good.”

“I haven’t yet.” I whisper out, grabbing the collar of his dress shirt and connecting our lips in need. Terzo deepens the kiss, tongue sliding cheekily against my bottom lip and knee sidling between my legs, pressing desperately against my pulsating core. My own hands paw against his clothing, proving that innocence is found within sin, that there can be no heaven without hell. I already knew I was not destined for heaven, we worshipped the opposing side anyways. But in moments like this, I catch a glimpse of heaven through his eyes, a glimpse of the innocence that remains in him when his hands stutter before tracing the outline of my body as if it were a map he had traced a thousand times. It was as if I were his only piece of heaven for him as well, entangling our souls together as the electricity between us dances an intricate waltz of death and life. Death and sin had always won, but in this moment, we were only innocent in the intimacy created. I can feel my eyes lull to the back of my head as if they were searching for my next thought, lost completely in the motion of his lips needfully tugging and pulling against mine. 

“Cara Mia, you are shaking.” He breathes out quietly, inching my robe lower and exposing my chest. I pull him in for another kiss, worried if he pulls back once more, he would be gone forever,” I can’t help it, I don’t want to lose you.” 

Terzo peppers my lips in heavy, lustful kisses,” you see I am too indecent to go anywhere even if I wished to do so. But I am right where I wish to be. Now what is it that you desire?”

“You.” I breathe out hotly, quickly becoming flustered with the buttons of his shirt before he quickly tears it off.

“If that is what you desire, you shall have me in whole.” He groans out as my nails dig against the back of his head, tugging needfully. Terzo once again returns to my chest, leaving a playful purple mark below my collarbone, and trailing downwards. With every kiss, he states different words, the main thing he repeats over and over,” Mi dispiace.”

The pain of unfulfilled ecstasy brings animal like instinct to the surface, gripping at his pants and moving to my knees off the bed.

“I am the one trying to apologize here, you return to the bed.” Terzo tuts, cradling my face in the palm of his hand. When I rise, he turns me away from himself, arms circling around me and grabbing against my breasts. One returns to my back, pushing me forward as his lower half straddles mine. Fingers dance wistfully over the building wetness between my legs. A digit slips between my panty line and I gasp at the sensation of it being buried in. Curling loosely, the rhythm lulling my body in tune as I press my face further in to the bed. My breath quickens as does the pace, degrading me to a messy state of muffled moans,” T-Terzo.”

“ I know, I know Cara Mia.” He coos, retracting his fingers and flipping me over to face him. 

“We do not have to go further.” He offers gently before I shake my head and motion him to come closer,” I said I wanted you.”

The devilish smirk as he lays on top of me causes my lower half to ache, jealous of my own lips receiving all of his attention. His tongue begging for entrance as his right hand drops his pants. I grant it, dropping my own hand to grasp against the hardness I longed for. I pump slowly. Feeling a shiver wrack his body and his tongue leaves my mouth. My body is swallowed by warmth at the initial penetration, a slow movement so I could adjust. A moan escapes us both, and he rhythmically snaps his hips in need, bracing himself with his hands digging in to my hips. Again he begins to apologize, keeping his pace but quickly losing his mind. I reach up, wiping a tear from his eye and rest my thumb against his cheek,” it’s a sin to look this good while being buried inside of me.”

“It must be a good thing that I am a sinner and not a saint.” Terzo huffs out, briefly losing his pace and slowing. 

“Don’t tell me you’re already close? You said you would keep me up all night, Terzo.” I whisper his name in his ear as he lets out a grunt of pleasure. 

“It’s hard to last when I have such beauty to gaze upon below me.” He exhales, dropping to interlock our lips once again and quickly regaining his composure. 

My hips buck, anticipating the building sensation of release. His mouths closes tightly around mine, stifling my moan as I reach the summit of my climax, convulsing uncontrollably as his pace quickens. 

Terzo is shortly behind, panting against his sloppy movements and finally going still as the heat grows between us. Terzo’s forehead brushes against mine, his lips following behind to place a soft kiss against my glistening skin. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up, Y/N.” He whispers, quickly gathering his discarded shirt to dab at the perspiration of my skin before he even worried of his own. My body refuses to move, swaying in to the dizziness of the afterglow in pure ecstasy. 

“Im alright, just lay with me.” I beg through love drunk slurring. He only chuckles, sliding back in to his pants and dropping beside me to lay on his back. I turn to meet the messy state of his face, smeared paint and disheveled hair causes a grin to slip across my face as my hand lazily reaches out to move stray hair dropping against his eyes. I could only imagine what had rubbed off on to mine, but in this moment it didn’t matter. 

“To think my irrational thinking had almost costed me you.” He sighs, pulling me to lay atop of him. 

“I wouldn’t mind hearing you yell like that again in a different manner…” I playfully mumble in to his chest. Terzo’s laugh rattles my body as his hands cradle me close to him,” you little devil. Do not ruin a sincere apology by your lust.”

“You’re right, that’s something you would do.” I yawn out, jabbing another quip in his direction. My eyes struggle to stay open as he coaxes me to the bathroom, setting me against the cool granite counter and running a rag under water to clean my face. He hums lightly, washing away the grime and sorrow of today, even taking a moment to just rest his head in the crook of my neck. My memory fails me as sleep starts to win, my body curling around his as he lifts me and whispers,” come sleep with me, Cara Mia. We will get this sorted tomorrow.” 

I nod as a robe is draped over my body, not even leaving the position he was carrying me in. Passing dim lights and sneaking through corridors, Terzo’s soft steps make it even harder to fight the battle of slumber. The instinct of surviving has wore off, and my body needed to recover. Just as I’m about to drift off, plush bedding greets my outstretching limbs, searching for his presence. When I finally find it, one last kiss is placed at the crown of my head and I finally let sleep win. 

In a sinner’s world, I wasn’t afraid to indulge a little slice of heaven, even if only for a brief moment. As Terzo said, I was a sinner after all. However, I was willing to be an angel in someone else’s narrative, even if only temporary. And I was willing to love with every ounce of my soul, even if it would cost me my life. With him, it mattered not if we ended up in heaven or hell, it mattered that he was by my side for eternity. 

[whispersinthedawn]

The Last of a Dying Breed (3)

“Will I be allowed to live now?” Percy asked dispassionately.

Body in an informal slouch, facial muscles relaxed into the calm that accompanied a true lack of care, and eyes the blue of ice-capped glacial seas, Percy Jackson was the picture of a casual observer inquiring about someone else’s fate.

Apollo wanted to sweep her into his arms and hide her from the indifferent gazes pinning her down like a butterfly on a corkboard.

Apollo wanted to rip off that face of hers for daring to conceal her thoughts and fears from him.

He blinked. That was all the reaction he could permit himself.

“Your death, Pythia, has never been our goal,” Athena informed the demigod.

No, Apollo thought sardonically, just a happy coincidence.

The first hint of animation entered Percy’s face. Her eyes flashed.

Athena continued on, unaware. “While I would encourage caution, especially given our increasingly perilous circumstances, I have already been overruled. No, a return to your previous state of statis could be argued for.”

“No.”

For a second, Apollo didn't recognise his own voice.

Didn't recognise anything but the barely leashed panic in mute eyes looking so entreatingly into his.

“My daughter will not die here,” Poseidon growled out.

Rainbows.

An iridescent light shone in Percy's eyes, like sunlight reflecting off oil poured on the ocean surface to calm the waves.

Please.

With a rush of pleasure that Apollo would deny if anyone were to ever ask, he realised that Percy’s calm was merely a façade. She hadn't changed from the wild, panicked, miserable wretch of those terrible months. Hadn’t passed these interminable years learning self-sufficiency. Hadn't overcome her dependency on him.

Percy might have painstakingly soldered metal plates around herself, but her shell was hollow. She'd built her house from slivers of rusty iron, and now her fortifications trembled.

“And my Pythia will not sleep,” Apollo countered silkily. “Or do you require another reminder of the consequences?”

“You cannot enforce another culling,” Ares sneered, even as his muscles bunched in preparation of an attack.

“I don't need to,” Apollo returned calmly, gaze firmly affixed on the thawing cold of Percy’s irises. “Your daughter would be the first to elucidate you on the dangers of camp.”

Ares snorted, no doubt taking it as yet another comment on the bullying tendencies of his progeny, but Apollo didn't care.

He'd warned them. For the sake of the children, he'd warned them. If they chose to disregard the dangers of the labyrinth, chose to welcome his wrath, then the consequences would be on their own heads.

“The solution is quite simple,” Zeus broke in with a scoff. “It is an insult to my son for him to be saddled with a defective Oracle. But neither do we kill defenceless children who have done nothing but work for the preservation of Olympus.”

Yes, they did. That was all they ever did. They just pretended otherwise.

Occasionally.

“Strip the Oracle from her and put her back to sleep,” Zeus ordered, before smiling with cruel humour. “I’d recommend Artemis’s Hunters, but that would require a maiden.”

Apollo sucked in a breath at the insult. At the sheer disrespect hidden in that statement.

“I am the Pythia,” Percy snarled. “I have not broken any of my vows.”

Zeus shrugged. “Servicing your patron is your duty, not dereliction. Clearly, my son cannot bother to enforce your vows when it comes to his own desires. But I would not insult my daughter by asking her to accept her brother’s leavings.” 

“I would take her anyway,” Artemis uttered at the same time as Poseidon warned, “You go too far, brother.”

“My Pythia must be chaste, father,” Apollo broke in indolently.

The insinuations did not bother him particularly. He knew his own lines and that sleeping with his priestess was one he would never cross.

(Not again. Not as long as he still smelled spoiled blood and rotting flesh whenever underground, not as long as her hopeless voice still echoed in his head.

Then what good are you?)

“A doll on a pedestal I can watch, but no one may touch,” Apollo continued.

That was an insult too. An insult to Percy, an insult to the tender emotions blossomed under the curved ceiling of a planetarium.

But the illusion of stars reflecting off eyes that gazed only at him – how could he possibly risk it?

He'd rather insult her than watch her suffer under his father's care.

(There was a reason he'd watched over her days the way Artemis had her nights. A reason no one without his express permission had ever been allowed inside his sleeping Oracle’s room.)

As long as Percy was Apollo’s doll to keep intact, others would keep away. The weak for fear of his retribution … and the strong because they’d misinterpret his cruelty for lack of care.

He just wished he could wipe out the hurt blooming on her face.

“It is not a terrible idea, though,” Hermes interceded. “Take away the Oracle from her while awake, and everything goes back to normal.”

For a moment, Apollo contemplated letting the god down gently. Pondered the benefits of telling him that no matter what happened, May Castellan was forever damaged. That whatever her intentions years ago, she was in no fit state to consent now. Apollo wouldn’t accept vows she was incapable of making.

But Hermes had voted against letting Percy live.

Poseidon, Demeter, and Apollo himself. The only ones who’d spoken for his Pythia.

Apollo let it lie.

Let his silence lie.

Previous | Next

[midnight--rainn]

over in no time.

pairing: elliot x sunshine

summary:

"I'm whispering your name like I'm taking a vow, I need you when my heart rate races and pounds. I wish that I was somewhere I was safe and sound."

or

after elliot finally gets to sunshine, they think they're out of the woods. until brachium appears, with a solemn look on his face.

the balance has not been restored.

an: im bored and wanted to start posting fics on here so here you go! you can also find it on a03 under the username @midnight_rainn

"El?" Sunshine calls weakly, still trapped in their own hell that took the form of a car. They were trapped- had been since Blake pulled them into this hellscape. Sunshine was losing hope- very quickly. That was, until, an unexpected guest arrived.

A person, someone Sunshine didn't recognize. When they called Blake's name, however, they realized who they were. The horrified look on his face and theirs said it all. Blake had let Sunshine have a moment of reprieve to speak to the person, his lover, but soon, it turned into a screaming match. The person had tried to help Sunshine, to convince Blake that his actions were wrong, and if he let them go they could just go home together.

But, Blake couldn't. Because he knew what was going to happen, and he needed it to stop. Sunshine wasn't quite sure what had happened- still trapped in the car. They heard the yelling, and the fighting, but then it all stopped. There was a shrill gasp, and then nothing. Then, they heard it. The sobs, ripping through Blake's throat. They didn't have to see them to know what had happened. He killed them, whether accident or not. It was always going to be him. He could never save them from himself.

He sat there and cried for what felt like hours. Until Sunshine heard a noise. It was faint, barely even there, but they knew who it was. El. Their El. He had finally come. He didn't forget them after all.

"El?" They call again, feeling lightheaded from lying practically upside down the entire time. They hear footsteps briskly walking- then running to their location. "Sunshi-" He pauses, looking at Sunshine's state. "Oh god, I'm so sorry." He says over and over while he works to get Sunshine out. If Blake knew of Elliot's appearance, he wasn't doing anything about it. He just sat, his dead lover in his arms, dead to the world. 

When Sunshine finally feels the seatbelt retract they fall into Elliot's arms, he cradles them, runs his fingers through their hair. "I'm so sorry I didn't come sooner. We- we tried to get the department to help but they didn't do anything. I had to-" 

"It's okay, El. You're here now. We're here. We're free." Sunshine looks up at his face with a smile. He gives them a quick kiss on the forehead as he stands, letting Sunshine lean into him for stability. "Okay, I'm gonna take us back into the real world, we should be in my brother's car, he got us out." Elliot tells them, preparing to take them back to their lives. But, as he does, the ground begins to shake violently. He instinctively pulls Sunshine closer, he wasn't going to lose them ever again.

The ground shakes again, a huge crack forming down the middle of the land, heading towards them. They jump back, watching the car Sunshine was trapped in fall into the dark abyss that's appeared in front of them. "Holy shit. What- what's going on?" Sunshine fearfully asks as the couple keeps backing away. Sunshine again looks over at Blake, oblivious to everything that was going on. He was right on the edge of the abyss, about to fall in.

Sunshine fought the urge to call out to him, to tell him to get to safety. But they don't. Earlier today, he would've gladly watched them fall, laughing the entire time. They weren't going to try and "save" him, he obviously didn't want it. 

Then, the abyss begins to fill. At first, they can't tell what- until the familiar feeling returns to them. The one that determined everything for them, their future. They watch as the familiar black liquid begins to rise into the abyss, coming closer and closer to them until it stops, brimming at the top. The water is beginning to seep into the dreamscape, pooling at Elliot's shoes.

"Hello, little one. Elliot." A voice says, and they both immediately know who it is. Sunshine relaxes, knowing that it's just their dear friend, but Elliot tenses next to them. Why was he here? They were free, it didn't make sense. "Brachium. What- what's going on?" Sunshine asks, taking a step closer to him. He stands on the other side of the abyss, a good ten feet away from them. Why was he so far away? 

Brachium had a somber look on his face, different from his usual cadence. He looked- upset. His eyes, though black, looked dull. "I'm sorry. The balance- it is not completed. It is calling, and it needs an answer." 

"What the hell does that mean?" Elliot asks angrily, pulling Sunshine closer to his side. Whatever was happening was not good, for either of them. "When- when I saved you, little one, I disrupted the balance in our two worlds. It's calling. It's your time." Brachium tells them, holding out a hand sadly. No. Not after everything- I just got out. I can't die, not now. Sunshine thinks, tears brimming at their eyes. 

"No." Elliot shouts angrily. "No. They went through all of this bullshit, you're not taking them now." He's terrified, trying hard not to show it. He thought Brachium was their friend- he was supposed to help them, not kill them. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. Any of it.

"It needs a life, Elliot. It will not rest until it has one. I- I cannot let you leave until the balance is fulfilled. I am sorry." Brachium looks sadly at the two of them, at how wrong everything has gone. It was all his fault, he was the one who had saved them all those years ago. Maybe if he hadn't- none of this would've happened. "So- I have to die?" Sunshine asks quietly, looking down at the ground.

Elliot shakes his head next to them, pulling them to arms length so he could look them in the eyes. "No. You are not dying. You're not. You can't." "I have to, El. There's no other way. He said we can't go- you can't go. It needs a life." Sunshine reasons, trying to pull away gently. They don't want to leave him- they never did. But if they had to, at least it would be to keep him safe. To keep him alive.

Again, Elliot shakes his head, this time in realization. "No. It needs a life. They didn't say which. Right?" Brachium nods. "So- so Blake. He can- he can jus-" Elliot points over at Blake, but to no avail. He's not there. Neither is his lover. "Where- where did he go?" Elliot asks, confused. 

"He is already with me. He made that choice the second he lost his loved one. But, you're right- it needs a life. Not a specific one. One from inside this scape." Brachium explains, looking over the edge, where Blake presumably fell. Maybe it's peaceful, on the other side. Maybe I'll like it there, Sunshine thinks to themself, stepping forward. "Okay." They say, preparing to step into the water.

Elliot grabs their arm, pulling them back. "No. No, I'm not gonna let you die today. It doesn't have to be you." Sunshine realizes what he means, shaking their head. "No- no. You are not going to die for me, El. I won't let you. I started this, I'm ending it." "No, he started it." Elliot accuses, venom in his voice. "You shouldn't have to suffer- to lose your life because of that." 

"You shouldn't have to either, El." Sunshine says quietly, as he pulls them into his chest, resting his head on top of theirs. "I know. But one of us has to. And it's not going to be you." Elliot cups their face in his hands, tracing their features, knowing he won't see them ever again. "Elliot- please." Their voice breaks, as he leans in for a kiss. Their last, no doubt. 

Sunshine savors it for as long as they can, memorizing every feeling, every little thing about him. They know what they have to do. They're not going to let him take the fall. They stood closer to the river, taking a step back, and then running to the edge, preparing to throw themselves off. Elliot quickly runs after them, shouting something as he grabs them and pulls them back. They fight each other, until Elliot hears a crack under his feet, breaking under the couple's weight. He slips, beginning to fall, but before he does, Sunshine grabs his hand, the only thing stopping him from the end.

"No. NO!" Sunshine yells, desperately trying to drag him back up to solid ground. Elliot already has tears brimming at his eyes, a somber smile on his face. "Please, El. I c- I can't do this alone. I need you. I love you." They tell him, both of their hands now clutching Elliot's. They know he's too heavy, that they won't be able to pull him over- but they try. "I know. And it's okay. I'll be okay, you'll be okay. I love you, my Sunshine." Sunshine shakes their head, their grip slipping on Elliot's hand. For a moment, they just look at him. Hanging over death itself, with seemingly no fear.

They realize then that it's because he's doing it for them. He would do anything for them. That was the best and worst thing they'd ever heard. "I love you." Elliot repeats, letting go of Sunshine's hands. He falls, landing in the river without a splash. They wait for him to come back up, but he doesn't. It's silent again. They couldn't scream, they couldn't jump in after him, they just watched. 

The river went on. Whether Elliot was alive or not.

[thedelusionreaderbitch]

Kaz Brekker x gn! Reader - You're human, so be it

A/n: I got this idea while sick, and ooc Kaz, sorry not sorry. Also the reader is kinda a vibe in this fic not gonna lie

Summary: After you screw up a previous job your past comes to taunt to with memories and you can't help but overwork yourself

Warnings: mentions of past abuse, normal canon violence, injury, sickness, overworking oneself, swearing, panic attack (not extremely descriptive), I think that's it? You have been warned!

The three P's:

[Pronouns used: You/your] [Pov: 2nd person] [Pairings: (romantic) kaz x reader, (platonic) the crows x reader]

Your last job you had fucked up on, you had disappointed the crows and Kaz. You could still feel their looks burning holes through your clothes until it seethed your skin. As Kaz's words echoed in your mind;

"We're all good at our jobs here Y/n, but if you can't reach the expectations then I can't have you on this team."

His words hurt, the cold shoulder the rest of the crows gave you hurt, it all reminded you of what your mother had been like to you;

"This family is good Y/n, but if you can't reach the expectations then you'll simply have to leave."

Your mother had always been one to fantasize about a perfect family, so that's what she tried to build. To everyone else on the outside it looked like your family really was perfect, but in reality there was so much controlling, and manipulation that a toxic environment quickly turned into abuse.

Your mother may have never hit you, but she was so controlling and manipulative, it was her way or the highway. If it wasn't done exactly to her instructions she would scream and howl at you, giving you terrible punishments set personally for every different child to make it as horrible as possible. Slowly you started to always try to met her impossible expectations, it got so bad that her classic phrase was nearly ingrained into your brain;

"Reasonable expectations, always meet them."

It was your household motto, unlike the other kids in your household you were always the closest to perfection that you could get for your mother. So the looks of disappointment she used to give you would always run a shiver down your spin and make you panic drastically.

Eventually you snapped and ended up on the streets with a weird talent for having an amazing memory. Photographic to be precise, although you were pretty sure it stemmed from what your mother had taught you. You always liked to over look that fact.

That was why Kaz had picked you off the streets and taught you how to fight, most of the crows already knew how to fight or had some semblance of something they could use for a weapon but not you. So you learned the why of the barrel through the six of crows having an arsenal of different skills in your pocket, by the end of the year you were already a crow and going on jobs with them.

After you had left your mother's place you had vowed to yourself that you would never let anyone put you in the state that she did again.

And as you became friends with the crows, you grew feelings for Kaz although you would never tell him because he didn't need another ego boost, and that the love was definitely unrequited. You never saw him return the looks that you gave him, he never treated you different from the rest of the crows, and Kaz in general was just the most emotionally unavailable person you had ever met.

Yet it still brought you back from when you were still living with your mother, those words were just so similar, the cold shoulders was also a tactic your mother used to use often. The fact that the triggering words came from Kaz made them even more painful.

Her words came back to your head, you thought you had healed but you were only starting to stitch yourself back up again, and all your stitch's had just been ripped open leaving a bleeding, gaping wound.

"Reasonable expectations, always meet them."

Then it became your motto again.

You started to work even harder, so you trained yourself over, and over again till your lungs were burning and your muscles were ready to give out. You took billions of small little solo jobs that were definitely were below your pay grade but in your mind you needed to prove yourself again. You didn't eat with the crows anymore you only ate on the go as you had been so busy, you took care of some of Kaz's paperwork secretly taking some of his pile and placing a signature where you knew you could do it, and it wouldn't be dangerous. Your memory did come in handy sometimes, it was the reason you were hired after all. You also took up extra shifts at the club either posing as a bartender or watching over the people and dealing with whatever pimp had decided they were cool.

You were barely taking care of yourself anymore, it showed with the bruises that littered your skin, the dark circles under your eyes and the franticness of your actions. Yet you couldn't stop, it was like Jesper and his gambling, you just couldn't stop. It was an addiction to prove yourself worthy of praise again, to meet the expectations that were set for everyone else again. To be deserving enough to have a place on the crows.

It was all so exhausting, and your body was screaming at you to stop but your brain wouldn't let you. What if they noticed you were slacking off? Would they think you were lazy? Would they be disappointed? Would they kick you out? Would he kick you out?

You were running a marathon no one else was, thus there was no winning, but you just couldn't stop. Because life's not that easy, trauma won't let the fish off the fishing line.

One day you were finally awarded to be allowed to go on a job with the crows again. When you had first heard the news you nearly wept with joy, yet you couldn't stop obsessing over it. You had to get this right, you just had too.

The crows weren't actually acting any differently towards you technically, you hadn't seen them much but they were still friendly towards you like before. You couldn't help yourself and be paranoid though, perhaps it was the fact that they hadn't let you on any other jobs again until now. So you could not. Mess. This. Up.

"Reasonable expectations, always meet them."

The plan was pretty simple, Inej would sneak in to the mercher's house to distract the party guests by turning the lights off, Matthias and Nina would pose as basically royalty from some far off country to take the focus off the host making him angry and distracted. While Wylan and Jesper would go undercover as servants listening in on the guests conversation so they could tell Inej when to turn the lights off. You and Kaz would be sneaking into the building as guards but would slip into the mercher's office when the lights were down to get some documents while you replaced them and Nina and Matthias bought you some time.

Then you and Kaz simply had to slink out of the office either; in an emergency, through a window in another room (as the merchant's office had no window) and run. Though, ideally getting back into your guard positions on time so you could walk out of the mansion without a problem while mentally flipping off everyone there and screaming in your head; "Haha losers, you didn't even notice a thing!"

Of course the victory walk wasn't necessary, but would probably help the crows stay off the radar of the merchant.

Yet as you walked through those doors dressed up in a uniform for the guards with Kaz beside you, you couldn't shake the feeling that something was going to go wrong. Maybe it was the fact that your body was bordering on it's limit of how much you could push it over the edge, or perhaps it was the slight shake in your hands as you feared the outcome. In your mind if you fucked this up the crows would be done with you, Kaz would be done with you.

So you ignored the soreness of what just walking had descended onto your body, and you quickly and effectively did the first part of your job perfectly as the adrenaline started to kick in.

Once the two of you entered the room Kaz had locked it behind him and nodded at you once. That was your only queue to start looking for the documents and you hurriedly got to work.

Looking through what felt like thousands of papers and folders you had finally found them and for a second you felt cool relief run down your spine reminding you how tired you truly are.

"Reasonable expectations, always meet them."

You couldn't think about that, you couldn't stop - not now.

"I found them." You spoke up and at the same time you heard gun shoots from outside your door.

Oh shit.

Scramming for the fake documents you quickly switched their places as Kaz hissed at you to hurry up.

Footsteps were coming closer to the door, and you readied your gun and walked as silently as you could behind the door while Kaz stayed out of view of it with his cane in hand.

You just hoped that the other crows had gotten out safe.

Suddenly the door got broken down and instantly, in a frantic move you shoot the guy in the head and the guard dropped to the ground dead.

You had killed very little people with your time in the crows, so killing shouldn't have been that easy. Kaz knew that, you should have tried another variable, hit him across the head with the gun, or shoot him in the hand or leg. Something was up.

Your heart squeezed in your chest yet your gaze only lingered on the guard for a split second before you were down the hall gun in hand readying yourself to jump out the nearest window.

"Reasonable expectations, always meet them."

Your vision wavered as you opened the door to the nearest room and it spun a tiny bit, but it wasn't too bad, you just figured it was adrenaline.

Opening the window you hopped out as you gestured for Kaz to come through. As he did you felt like throwing up everything in your stomach, there were black spots in your vision. You couldn't hear anything, and you could feel yourself panicking as you could only hear a ringing sound. It felt like someone was banging a stick against your head as you collapsed to the ground. Knees hitting the soil hard, and promptly passing out.

_______________

When you woke up you full on panicked.

"No, no, no!" You whispered as you sat up scanning the area around you hectically as you quickly realized it was Kaz's room/office.

Did they kick you out of the crows? Did they kick you out of the dregs and took pity on you for some reason? Perhaps Kaz was going to give you another one of his soul crushing lectures again. No, no, no!

Your chest felt like it had ten wolves on top of it, and your eyesight flickered which made you even more hysterical.

Panic attack, you were experiencing a panic attack.

You couldn't breathe, you really tried but it seemed impossible. Your hands shook as you curled into a ball despite the blankets that were on you.

"Y/n!" A raspy voice filled your ears and your eyes snapped up to meet his crow like eyes. Despite knowing that Kaz was there, that you weren't alone it didn't stop it, it didn't help.

It might have made it worse, because he was one of the reasons you were having it.

Crouching down beside your bed at eye level with you, he reached out a gloved hand to cup your cheek as you crunched your eyes closed.

"You did good Y/n, you did good."

Eventually your breathing even out and without realizing it you had leaned into the hand on your cheek. Slowly opening your eyes again your met with his dark eyes the color of beautifully terrible asteroids destroying worlds.

Smiling slightly you move away from his hand so he's no longer touching you.

"Hey."

Kaz scowled at you while standing up and crossing his arms.

"I'm taking you off jobs for the next two weeks."

Your jaw dropped and you couldn't help it when your eyes filled with water albeit it wasn't much. You were just pushed to your end, you didn't want to go back there again. You didn't want to be told you weren't good enough again.

"Reasonable expectations, always meet them."

"What! No fucking way!"

Kaz sighed dragging a hand over his face as if this was the most exasperating conversation he's ever had in his life.

"You need rest Y/n. When you fainted I thought you had been shot and were being an idiot and trying to hide it from me. But I found nothing."

Pausing, his eyes flickered down to your figure before looking back up into your eyes again.

"Nina quickly figured out that you were basically working yourself to death."

You were left there gaping like a fish, so he wasn't going to kick you off the crows for making a mistake?

Suddenly your mother's words didn't come to mind as the first response, it was something that Kaz himself had told you when you first started being trained.

"You're human, so be it."

Perhaps you needed to start acting like a human being again instead of some robot. You weren't perfect, and you had let your past get to your head.

Instead of saying this though these brilliant words came out of your mouth; "How did I get back?"

Kaz looked at you in almost disbelief that that out of everything was your question to him. Nothing about your health and what you should do to get better but nooo. It was how the ever loving fuck, did Y/n get back to the Slat?

"I carried you most of the way until we ran into Matthias and Nina, then Matthias had carried you the rest of the way to the Slat."

"You carried me?"

"I just told you I did."

You were a bit disappointed that you missed that, though you were sure it wasn't very pretty. Yet, your cheeks still burned when you thought of Kaz's arms around you, and his scent surrounding you.

There's a silence for a while before Kaz sits on the side of the bed and refuses to look at you.

Sighing you rub your hands nervously over your thighs.

"It's not your fault you know? Your words just triggered some stuff from the past and it sent me into a frenzy. That's none of their faults, and it's definitely not yours."

"I should have noticed.' He growled, while balling up his hands into fists.

"You have other things to worry about, and other people to care for. Nobody can blame you, you had other investments to look after." You say the end part almost bitterly.

Kaz shakes his head, his raven, soft hair with it.

"I should have seen something. I always see you."

"What do you mean?"

Kaz grits his teeth and lets out a frustrated grunt.

"I notice you Y/n, I can not notice you. You're every where I look, your everything I hear."

You froze as he moved closer to you realizing that this was basically Kaz Brekker confessing his love to you.

His (now ungloved) hand brushed up against your lips and danced down to to your pulse on your neck. Alive, he was making sure you were alive. Then with his other hand he laced your fingers together before slowly letting go after a couple of deep, loud breaths from the both of you.

"Was that you basically saying you love me?"

Kaz glares at you as he goes to sit on a chair close to your bed with papers in hand ready to start signing off and what not.

Did he really move a chair beside his bed so he could do work and watch you at the same time?

Rolling your eyes an affectionate smile graced your face as you gazed at the man.

"I love you too, Dirtyhands. I love you too."

Words 2690

-thedelusionreaderbitch

Grishaverse taglist: @kaqua @rika90 @thefandomplace @musical-theatre-obsessed-dumbass @gallysonegoodlung @navs-bhat @sumsebien @dontjudgeabookbythecover @brekker-zenik @alohastitch0626 @brekkers-desigirl @emmsamultifan06

[aetherswhxre]

Can you write something about Rain comforting the reader after a panic attack?

This kind of got dark and if you’re not okay talking about death and or your own mortality then I’d say you should probably skip this one. But thank you for the request! I look forward to more!!

You were going to die. You were going to die and leave Rain behind. The one thing you vowed to him when he finally gave into his longing for you and the two of you became intertwined physically and spiritually. You promised him you would never leave him. And yet a fellow sibling of sin had brought it to your attention, albeit rather distastefully, that you in fact were only human and you would eventually succumb to your own mortality. You cursed Lucifer for making you human. Why couldn’t you have been born a Ghoul/ette? Why were you fated to die a lowly human death?

You had managed to lock yourself away in the bathroom that was adjoined to the spacious bedroom the church had given you and Rain. While it was a known rule that the ghouls had to stay within the basement, Papa the Fourth had a soft spot for one of his favorite siblings of sin and one of his hand picked ghouls. (And of course you and Rain had shown him how thankful the two of you were). Now the sizable room and bathroom had come in handy in a way you didn’t think imaginable. You had known Rain was due back from touring with Papa any day now and the last thing you wanted him to experience was you in a state like this.

You were pressed up against the far wall, one hand placed on your chest while the other was kept firmly over your mouth to try and silence any of the sobs that threatened to spill out. You should have seen this coming. As you had now told yourself on a loop in your head - you were simply human. Rain was a ghoul. He was a ghoul that was expected to live for millennia to come. He had seen so much already and he was only going to experience more as the time flew by. Perhaps you would only be a flash in his memory by the time Lucifer came to collect the ghoul and take him back to hell. Maybe he would have forgotten about you by then.

Your breathing had become erratic at the thought of your other half eventually erasing you from his memory. You tilted your head back, relishing in the way the cool porcelain tile of the wall felt against your heated skin. Another reminder that you were human. Maybe it was for the best if you dealt the blow first. You could already tell how much your death would affect the Ghoul. He’d most likely ask Lucifer himself if he could return back to the underworld just to escape the thought of you. But that means he would never experience the beauty of being up above again. You recalled how he looked at the moon or how he would shush you when the wind picked up, telling you that the earth was speaking to you then cheekily admitting that Mountain had told him that. He would miss out on all of that. Because of you.

You were pulled out of your thoughts by a loud bang and looked up just in time to see the bathroom door get ripped from its hinges. It was tossed backwards across the room and suddenly before you stood the one person you had been dreading to see. His upper body shook heavily and you could tell that his breathing was ragged. He reached behind his head and pulled the helmet off that obscured his face, chunking the black mass across the floor, it landing with a heavy thud.

In a flash, you were pulled from the cold bathroom tile and into the waiting lap of your favorite Ghoul. He smelled just as you remembered, deep notes of bergamot and a small trace of something fresh, almost like a summer rain. His hands were in your hair, pushing it away from your tear stricken face. You could hear him speaking to you, his voice calling out to you. “Amica Mea, I could smell your distress from the courtyard. What has come over you?” Your eyes shifted up to his face and you realized he still remained in his human glamour. Your eyes once again filled with tears. His eyebrows twisted together and he pulled you closer, his hand holding the back of your head against his chest.

“I’m so sorry, Rain. I’m so sorry.” You chanted over and over again, fist clinging to his black dress shirt. He shushed you, rocking you back and forth in his arms. “What do you have to be sorry for? You’ve done nothing wrong,” he replied, his soft glamourized lips pressing against your temple. “I’m sorry for being a pathetic human,” you sobbed. The rocking stopped suddenly. He pulled you from his chest, one arm looping around your upper waist to still hold you in his lap as the hand that held your head was brought forward to cup your cheek.

“What? What do you mean? Where is this coming from,” he asked, forcing you to look at him. You sniffled, your eyes still filled with the fresh tears. “I’m going to die one day and you’re going to be left alone in this world. I promised you I would never leave you and one day, I will have to break that promise to you.” You reached up to hold the hand that encompassed your left cheek. You watched as his eyes softened, the blue hues dark in the shadowy gloom of the bathroom. He dropped his head down, his full lips pressing a kiss to each one of your puffy eyes. Then your nose. Then each one of your cheeks. And when he got to your forehead, the kiss lingered. “You will never leave me, Amare,” he spoke softly. “But I will, Rain. One day you’re going to wake up and I'm no longer going to be around.”

He pulled away from your forehead, locking eyes with you as he mulled over your words. After what felt like hours of deafening silence, it seemed he had chosen the words he wished to say. “This is true, yes. One day you are going to die. You are human. But did it ever occur to you that I knew this? That I knew what awaited me in my future if I chose to walk down this path with you?” Your chest filled inconsistently as you tried to catch your breath. He leaned forward again but this time to place his forehead against yours, his eyes lay open his deepest emotions before you. “I chose you. I chose this path. I chose the consequences. I. Chose. You.”

You cried out again, lifting yourself up to wrap your arms around his neck. Again you sobbed but this time it was not a saddened sob. He chose you. He could have chosen anyone. Another human - perhaps a ghoul or ghoulette. But instead, he put you before anything. You were the one that lay in his arms at night, a mess of limbs beneath soft sheets. You were the one he took to his favorite spot by the lake that no one else knew of. You were the one he vowed to love until the very end. And now you felt stupid for ever doubting that.

He continued to hold you in his arms as you let out all of the tears your body had left to cry, humming softly, and occasionally kissing your temple. When you had managed to calm down a small amount, you pulled away from him and his hand found yours in your lap and intertwined his fingers with yours. You glanced up at him sheepishly, taking note once again that he still had the glamour on. You squeezed his hand gently. “Rain, your glamour…”

He knit his eyebrows together in confusion before he let out a soft, “oh”, and let the glamour drop. You felt his size become a small amount bigger, his mass extending slightly. His skin became an ashen grey and his horns became visible again. You felt something snake around your ankle comfortingly and you knew it was his tail. “I like you better like this,” you said, your voice raspy from the overuse. He gave a small smile. “Cant let the others know ghouls like us actually exist.”

You smiled softly. “That’s a privilege few get to know.” He brushed a stray strand of hair away from your face. “That’s a privilege only you know.” After a few moments of silence, Rain groaned slowly. Blinking up at him, you saw him glancing at the frame where the bathroom door used to be. “Papa is going to kill me.”

end

Amica Mea - Latin for My Love

Amare- Latin for Love

[naavispider]

please share the sad headcanon

So Lyle Wainfleet. Great guy (in a villainous kind of way), lots of issues. Loves Quaritch, knows it's unrequited, is okay with that.

The reason he's so good with Spider? He's been a dad before. To a little girl on Earth. And he was the best dad. He loved her and her mother deeply. He was good at it.

They had a good life. Lyle was going to retire from the military. He had a good state allowance for his service, and they were going to move away to the country, to avoid the smog of the megacity. It was going to be a dream.

But then he lost her. 'Failure to thrive' they said. 'Pollution, lung disease, infections...' And everything he'd ever known was turned upside down. The hole in his chest ripped him apart, and he vowed never to feel that pain again. So, when the RDA called, he left. 7 years in cryo looked pretty good, and Pandora couldn't be worse than the Hell he was already living in.

So when Spider Socorro enters his life, he feels warmth for the first time in years. The kid wasn't his. But little things about him... they reminded him of her. The way he rolled his eyes when he disapproved of something. The way he found humour in the darkest of places. Lyle would support Quaritch to the ends of the Earth in bonding with the child, and he would simply watch, observe, and remember her.

[hellishvxbes]

          .　　. ˚　. ╳ ⊹ ―  𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐀 𝐑𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐀𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑, he had sworn to himself a long time ago that he would never let himself feel like prey ever again. As a boy, back when the white folks would sneer at him, and call him and his mother names. The shame was brought onto him knowing he had a white father who never wanted him. Every day he woke up && wondered if he was going to see his mother when he came home from school. Where one wrong word and wrong glance could very well cost him life. Alastor had grown up learning how to live based on survival.

          The people he came into contact with were not nice, they prowled && circled him like vultures. Waiting for him to fail, so they could all charge and pick at the pieces he left behind. He vowed to himself he would never let that happen, no one would ever gain power over him. He would remain two steps ahead, he would keep his distance from everyone. Emotions && feelings only ever lead to one's descent. His mother was the only person he had ever loved, and that was more than enough for him. The only person who knew how to tame the rage he buried deep inside, the parts of himself that wanted to make all the ones who ever spat or tried to hurt them pay. A touch so gentle, so nurturing, those arms were the only place he had ever felt safe. Where he could let it all down and he could lay his head in her lap and listen to her sing softly as she ran her fingers through his hair and he drifted off to sleep. 

               POOR ALASTOR ╱ ONCE A TALL, VALIANT STAG now he cowered against the door in Angel's dressing room like a frightened little fawn. He felt like he was being preyed on in a whole new way, Angel was coming after his heart && for the first time he didn't know how to combat those feelings. The moment Angel had accidentally torn through his clothes, he had felt his back hit the door, his fingers clutching at the ripped fabric and he wished he could finish what Angel started. Use his claws to tear through his chest to rip out his heart and feed it to the buzzards. Toss the wretched thing so far away he never had to feel what he was feeling now. Which was perplexity, an ache that made his stomach feel sick and empty like he hadn't eaten anything in weeks. Much like his battered clothing, he felt like his entire identity was coming apart at the seams. Those stitches in his smile unraveled, leaving him in a state that wasn't his most pleasing. 

                      EVERYTHING, instinct was telling him to tuck his tail and run. Run far away from that delicate touch that brushed against his hands. The soft and concerned gaze in Angel's eyes only seemed to work their magic in drawing him in. He tells himself to run, he SHOULD run, but he doesn't. Instead, he finds himself powerless to do anything. This was a part of him he never wanted Angel to see, what he hid under a nice outfit && a wide smile. The horror of his death is displayed for Angel to see. Jagged and torn flesh, poorly pieced back together. Scars and teeth marks decorated nearly every inch of his skin, and he felt thankful Angel could only see his chest. 

                                      RUN, RUN JUST LEAVE. END IT. 

                       But Alastor didn't want to leave, that look on Angel's face taking him to a place he never thought he'd ever see in himself. Those emotions came washing over him like a wave, drowning him under the intense pressure. Thinking back to every moment they had shared up until now, those long talks on the roof, meeting in secret simply to have a conversation. How much Alastor had grown to deeply love and look forward to them. Oh, it would have been easier to break Angel's heart, it was harder to stay. He had never felt this way before, wanting to pull him into an embrace, to hold him. 

            OH MY DEAR YOU POOR THING, DON'T YOU KNOW LOVE IS THE DEATH OF DUTY?? 

        Alastor doesn't hide the shiver he gets when Angel touches him, tracing over the many scars on his chest. ❛ It's ugly ❜ he says finally, breaking through the silence like smashing through glass. Alastor can't bring himself to face him, his head turning away. ❛ Angel, this isn't going to work. ❜ You'll be the death of me.

TO  LOVE  SUCH  A  MAN  WAS  AKIN  TO  TASTING  A  PRAYER  ON  THE  BACK  OF  HIS  TONGUE,  with no god for the begging words to go to. it is as hopeless as it is romantic, as bloodied as it is sweet, as addicting as it is virulent, and angel dust wants to rot in the feeling of it all.  IT  OVERWHELMS  HIM,  suffocates him in sleepless nights and lingering questions.  hell  ⸺  a year ago, he would barely even be able to tell you the radio demon’s  name.  a year ago, he’d been  JUST  ANOTHER  FACE  at the hazbin hotel.  the personification of the shadows,  the mystery on the airways.      BUT  NOW  . . . 

NOW,   he could trace the outlines of the radio demon’s curious eyes with a purposeful and lovestruck stare, turning his gaze away when the other glanced in his direction.  he is a teenage boy wrapped in hot butterflies and hellfire.  he is burning in the same sin that had clutched his heart in a white - hot grip a hundred years ago, before death had claimed  ANTHONY BORRELLI  and visciously spat  ANGEL DUST  into the pit of eternal punishment.

HELL  ALONE  WAS  NOT  ANGEL’S  ETERNAL  PUNISHMENT.   perhaps he would’ve been able to deal with another century of flames and neon lights, bodysuits and too - high skirts.   NO   -   true hell was adoring what was not meant to be adored.  waiting for the love to pass like a bad high  /  WATCHING  IT  NEVER  LEAVE  YOUR  SYSTEM.  true hell was seeing an audience of hundreds,  waiting  for  your  performance,  and only being able to search the crowd with anxious eyes until your gaze locked onto  HIS.     (  angel  could  see  him  in  the  back  of  the  room,  like  he’s  intent  on  not  being  seen  at  all,  and  it  makes  him  want  to  tear  himself  apart  for  all  to  see   /    LOOK  AT  ME  NOW,  LOOK  WHAT  YOU’VE  DONE  TO  ME  !   )

a week without conversation, without as much as an explanation, and alastor was back in his dressing room when the show was over. perhaps a part of angel was wishing he’d  SAY  SOMETHING.  the lovesick heat that burned heavy in his stomach turned into an inferno of almost  BIBLICAL  RAGE. 

❝  what - 'ya think 'ya can just act like nothin' happened? what the fuck did i do to'ya to piss 'ya off so much, huh ? fuckin' -    ❞

he’s walking away  -   THE  BASTARD -   and it doesn’t take much for angel to reach forward and grab ahold of the front of alastor’s shirt, nails digging into the fabric in a vain attempt to pull him right back.  instead, the fabric tears, leaving a gaping hole in the radio demon’s chest, revealing  BARE,  GRAY  SKIN  in its place. 

ANGEL  FELT  THE  AIR  LEAVE  HIS  LUNGS  ALL  AT  ONCE.   beneath the place where the fabric once was, alastor’s skin was adorned with a multitude of  dark  markings  ;  jagged scars that lined his bony chest without any particular pattern to them.  these  are  the  marks  of  a   life  not  lived  in  many  dawns.   the etchings of gnashing teeth, of wicked claws, of a story untold by the overlord’s tongue.  he is quick to cover the space of skin with his shaking hands,  but before he can turn to leave, angel’s grapping his wrist and pulling him right back like he doesn’t fear the consequences of doing so.

AND  THEY  ARE  CLOSE  /  FAR  TOO  CLOSE.   he’s almost hesitant to reach forward and touch him.   (  HOW  UNLIKE  YOU,  ANGEL  DUST,  AFRAID  TO  MEET  YOUR  SKIN  WITH  ANOTHER’S  -   )     angel moves with the gentle slowness that he would use while reaching for a frightened animal, carefully moving closer, closer, until his fingertips are pulling alastor’s hands from his chest, staring. 

he does not think as he traces his fingers over the lines of alastor’s scarred body, like he is following the pathways of a map. softly, he rests his hands over the places where the pain goes to rot.

[beardedmrbean]

An Asian American journalist in Seattle claims he was fired from his local news station after being accused online of promoting "white supremacist propaganda" for covering a Proud Boys protest on his personal Twitter account. Jonathan Choe, a journalist for more than 20 years, said ABC affiliate KOMO News fired him for live-tweeting about the march, which took place in the Washington state capital of Olympia on March 19. In a tell-all Medium post, Choe said he recapped March 19’s protest with a photo montage that included “natural sound,” a reporting technique also known as “NAT Pkg” or “natural sound package.” This mode of storytelling includes all the elements of a regular news package except the reporter’s voice, giving viewers a more sensory experience of involvement.

Choe’s final tweet, however, later drew online accusations that he was spreading “white supremacist propaganda.” As it turned out, it had picked up parts of a controversial song. “One of my videos picked up music blasting from a speaker strapped over the shoulder of one of the protesters. I could not make out the words and had never heard this song in my life,” Choe wrote. “Hours later, the critics started pouncing on this final tweet, accusing me of intentionally creating ‘white supremacist propaganda.’ Several people even claimed I went out of my way to rip this music off a CD and lay it under the photos. That is untrue. I wanted to simply capture a moment in time, with authentic visuals and sounds.”

Choe said he later learned that the song is called “We’ll Have Our Home Again” and is often played at white nationalist rallies. In hindsight, he said he wished he provided more context, but his news director allegedly ordered him to “take down all my social media” related to the march before he could respond.

Choe said his boss also told him “not to speak to any outside media.” The next day, he was sacked, he said. The veteran journalist began his post by declaring that he is “not a neo-Nazi, fascist or white supremacist.” Such accusations were “comical at best,” he said, as a “proud Asian American journalist who’s faced years of discrimination for my race and ethnicity.”

Choe also stressed his awareness about Proud Boys being labeled as an “extremist hate group” and some of its members being prosecuted for their involvement in the Capitol insurrection on Jan. 6, 2021. But this is exactly why he wanted to be an “observer” at the Proud Boys rally, he said. “I wasn’t taking sides. I wasn’t saying anything was good or bad. In fact, none of the marchers would talk to me on the record because they ‘didn’t trust the mainstream media,’” Choe recalled. “So I just started following the march route.” Aside from “some middle fingers and heckling from those who opposed the rally,” Choe described the day as ending “peacefully and without incident.” He then pointed out that his problem only arises “when any group or side tries to silence me for simply trying to show what’s happening.” “I’ve been a journalist now for more than 20 years. If there was a Ku Klux Klan rally and cross burning at Seattle Center in downtown, I would be the first person there to cover the event. “My job is to present all sides, not just the one that aligns with my values or worldview,” he added. Despite the odds he has faced, Choe, who was recently targeted with threatening tweets from alleged Antifa members, vowed to continue to stay in the media. “I am not done serving the good people of Seattle. Stay tuned,” he tweeted on Friday. NextShark has reached out to KOMO News for comment.

[duskamethyst]

deception.

a/n: if you ask me why i did this, the answer is i don’t know.

word count: 4.6k

genre: smut, nsfw, angst, quirkless AU

warnings: daddy kink, degradation, edging, age gap, implied cheating, reader is a little delusional

pairing: sugardaddy!bakugou x f!reader

summary: where you fall in love with your own sugar daddy and you finally confess to him.

pretending to be in love with old men for a couple of hours can be exhausting and it might seem like a nonideal way to get money, but desperate times call for desperate measures. you’ve met plenty of these people, who have too much money they could spend. some are just lonely; in need of company from a young, pretty girl and some just want to have fun despite having their wives and kids at home. they come and go, and you couldn’t care less about what happens to them after your encounter, as long as you get your money’s worth. 

but never have you ever thought that you’d be so attached to one. maybe entertaining sugar daddies isn’t that tiring when they’re really attractive (it’s natural to like good looking people, can anyone blame you?). he’s truly a sight for sore eyes and you often wonder how he possesses so much stamina in bed. bakugou makes you feel some kind of way, it’s wrong, but with more time you spend with him, you can’t help but to actually fall in love with the guy. he makes you feel antsy and you often find yourself waiting for his texts, either the dirty ones or the ones that expresses his anticipation to see you again soon.

it’s not like he doesn’t do the same thing as the others; buys you things you know you can’t afford, spends his money on fancy dinners and continues to spend the rest of the night with you at random five stars hotels after. the difference is, you actually somewhat enjoy being around him as his spoiled little princess and you find yourself to gladly do anything for him like the time you let him fuck you raw because he wanted to. 

for a man his age, bakugou is well maintained. you love to lay your head down on his huge chest and rake your nails on his broad back, eliciting deep grunts of pleasure from the man in return. he looks appetizing; toned abs and a happy trail that leads to his trimmed pubes and down to his massive cock. if it isn’t for the fine lines on his face and the white streaks on his hair, you wouldn’t think he’d be reaching 50. 

you don’t know if you should even feel jealous of his wife. if you were born years earlier, would he choose you instead? the thought of him being with someone else and vowed to be together for the rest of their lives makes you want to puke. bakugou must’ve realized that it was a mistake too. if he still loves her, why would he have his cock sink inside you? if he really loves her, why are you the one he tells that to instead? 

“daddy loves you. daddy loves fucking your tight cunt. baby, you feel so fuckin’ good– so fuckin’ good for daddy. love you too– fuck.”

you can already picture the image of him on top of you as you replay those same words like a broken record player inside your head; lips part slightly in heavy pants, vermillion irises overfill with lechery as he fucks you senseless.

daddy loves you. he loves you and you're more than certain that you love him. not for his money, not for the stuff he indulges you with but only for himself. 

you want him. you want him to make you all his. you want him to be able to see you freely and not sneaking behind someone else’s back. you want to sit pretty as you wait for him to come back home from work every day, all wet and ready to please him. he loves you, and that’s what he deserves after a stressful day. 

as soon as you get inside the room and kick off your heels, a strong pair of hands grab you by the thighs and easily lift you up. you wrap your legs around his waist in an instant, dropping your bag to the floor unceremoniously before circling your arms around his neck as he draws you in a passionate, hungry kiss. a battle of dominance has always been nonexistent when it comes to bakugou, he naturally holds everything in the palm of his hand and both of you like it that way.

his lips never stray away from yours, not even when he walks towards the bed with you clinging onto his strong physique while his hands squeeze firmly on the flesh of your bum before he breaks away, but only to throw you on the soft mattress. you prop up on your side, looking up at him innocently and pleadingly with doe eyes that you know would never fail to stir up something primal inside him. his gaze drinks in every inch of you; the heave of your chest, the curve of your ass and overall your smaller frame that lies submissively in front of him. 

“look at you. such a fucking doll.” he takes off his slim fit suit, throwing the coat carelessly on the ground before loosening up his tie until it unfolds completely. “you like the dress? it’s shorter than i imagined, can’t help but to notice how the other guys kept on checking you out.”

you nod your head, pressing your thighs together as you notice how his lustful eyes linger a little too long on your ass that’s barely hiding under the hem of your mini dress. “yes, because daddy bought it for me.”

“damn right he did.” he smirks, unfastening about three buttons of his dress shirt. “ass up.”

you hurriedly roll on your stomach, planting your cheek on the mattress and arching your back perfectly as you lift your ass in the air. you feel the bed dipping from your back before a calloused hand caresses your thigh and trails up to your cheeks slowly, appreciating the smooth and youthful skin before he gets to ruin it.

“good. lift your head up.”

it’s never your position to question. carefully, you do as told by lifting yourself up on your hands and knees. you can discern the shifting of his body from behind and by your side as you look ahead and face the curtains before your sight is abruptly seized by darkness.

the silky material biting your lids suggests that he has wrapped his tie around your head, purposely blindfolding you to amplify your other senses as your sight is consumed with pitch black. bakugou pushes your head down with his hand, keeping you on your knees and lets you stay in the position while he takes off his dress shirt.  

“you’re gonna be a good girl for daddy.” he states more than questions, hiking up the hem of your dress to your waist to feed him with an unobstructed view of the damp patch adhering on your flimsy panties. bakugou presses his thumb on the splotch and his eyes flick over to your quivering body. “gonna let daddy use his tongue to fuck you?”

“please, daddy.” you whine, bucking your hips closer to ease the ache with his touch but is greeted with a sharp smack across your skin instead. 

“so impatient,” he tuts, rubbing the red print gently. “you’re just a horny little girl, aren’t you? can’t live without daddy’s dick inside her cunt.”

“just you– only yours.” 

“you know just what to say, don’t you?” his voice husky and rasp, complimenting the conceited smirk on his lips as he spoke. you learn that bakugou is actually a man that is easy to please, only if you know how to stroke his ego and as simple as that, his intimidating persona would be long gone. 

cold air brushes against your wet folds once he strips off your panties. he lifts up both knees to get you out from the garment and crumple it into a ball with his hand before bringing it in front of your face. 

“open.” you obey and open your mouth, allowing him to gag you with the cloth and quickly filling your senses with a mixture of lace and your own scent. “so good for me.”

bakugou moves back to his initial position, smearing his fingers against your puffy folds with your slick. he circles your clit teasingly and slowly, resulting in you to squirm while your hands find purchase on the sheets beneath you. 

“stop squirming around or i’m not gonna eat you.” he warns as his ministrations come to a halt to observe your compliance before he continues. for a man that is impatient himself, it’s quite hard to take his sweet time teasing you. maybe with the fact that you’re so querulous, a surge of power and pride rushes through him and his willpower tells him not to lose his machismo too quickly.

a satisfying grin tugs on the corner of his lips while he watches you struggle to follow his order and his thumb presses tight circles on your swollen clit to draw out sweet, muffled whines. once he notices your legs begin to tense and toes to curl, he pulls away. 

“you can’t cum yet.” he licks up the slick from his fingers clean before settling his head in front of your rear. an anticipative knot swells in your lower stomach as you feel hot plumes of breath prickling against your puffy folds before he spreads them open with his fingers. with how much your senses have spiked up, you can feel your pussy dripping with so much arousal and you know damn well that bakugou can see it too. 

“you’re nothing but a dirty little slut, aren’t you?” he coos, sounding both demeaning and amused as he rubs your lips, sending more waves of sensation on the bundle of nerves. “my dirty little slut.”

bakugou doesn’t expect you to answer but as soon as his warm tongue takes the first lap of your slick, a loud squeal rips from your throat. his large hands rest on your hips as he tilts his head to reach your clit, toying and teasing by using the tip of his tongue while his own plump lips and stubble graze against your slit.

you’re quick to turn into a sobbing mess, unheedful of the saliva trickling from the corner of your mouth when you’re aware that it won’t take too long until you’d eventually break. just as the stimulation is becoming more overbearing, his hands clench on your supple flesh tighter in a silent command that tells you it’s not time to cum yet. 

after he’s satisfied with abusing the bud, he drags down his tongue and pumps inside your quivering hole, causing you to jolt in a delighted surprise. from the loud, lewd squelching sounds of your own fluid mixing with his spit, you can only picture the way he looks right now; face buried between your ass cheeks, nose deep in your cunt while his tongue works miraculously around your walls. 

even the image beyond the abyss itself makes you more delirious. 

“c-can’t–” you break into a muffled cry as your hips bucks into his mouth without conscious control. another harsh slap is what you receive, but you can’t seem to care when a thick fog of desire is already clouding your brain; making the pain and pleasure to become one divine fusion. 

bakugou’s blows don't stop with how much you’re grinding so earnestly on his face. your skin burns from the cruel attention, yet your cunt just keeps on seeping with slick that trickles down to his chin and drips down on the sheets beneath you. 

“you’re such a fucking pain slut.” he growls, hot breath fanning your greedy cunt and making the pressure even tighter in your stomach. “not yet.” his tongue is anything but languid; swirling hastily as it explores your little hole as far as he can reach. it’s obscene. the way that the muscle glides so smoothly.. the warmth, the moisture– 

next thing you know, your eyes are already rolled to the back of your eyelids as your body tenses while waves of gratification crash down throughout your entire being.

“cumming on daddy’s tongue without permission.” he tsks, giving one last spank before standing up at the edge of the bed as he burns the image of your quivering body into the back of his head, adorned by the red imprint of his hand on your pliant skin. “turn around.” 

without a spare moment to gather yourself, you get up on wobbly legs and arms, carefully turn around like a fawn taking its first baby steps and rebuild your senses at the same time to estimate where he currently stands until he tells you to stop. 

your eyes squint as they adjust to the subdued room, finally able to see faint light again after bakugou takes off the tie around your head. you look up to the older man, only to be pierced by a pair of carmine orbs and a disgruntled look on his face.

“you know what you did wrong.” a thin string of drool latches onto the panties when he pulls it out from your mouth to observe the drenched fabric between his thumb and pointer finger. “looks like you had a great time.” you can see how it’s embarrassingly soaked, but not as embarrassing as the amount of slick glistening around his lips and chin that he doesn’t even bother to wipe off.

“’m sorry, daddy.” you whisper hoarsely through dry throat while giving him your most remorseful look. it would’ve deceived him if he didn’t know any better, but receiving punishments is something he knows you’d enjoy.

the slight upturn at the corner of his lips etches into a lazy grin as he unfastens his belt and takes off his pants along with his briefs to release his erected cock– now standing proudly in front of your face. 

“what do you have to do now?” he hums, tapping the flushed tip on your lips as if moisturizing the parched skin with his leaking precum. 

“m-make daddy proud.” you shamelessly steal a taste, flattening your tongue out so he can rub it on your palate. 

“can’t fuckin’ understand you– cock hungry slut.” he chuckles with mirth, one hand tucking your hair behind each ear as his gaze softens for a moment. “but that’s why i fuckin’ love you.”

your lashes flutter as you stare up at him, heart blooming like flowers on a fresh start of spring after a harsh, cold winter as the words he uttered loops inside your head. with a content hum, you close your eyes and wrap your lips around his cock, eliciting a hiss from the male once engulfed in the warmth of your mouth. 

“shit, i haven’t even told you to suck me yet.” his own eyes follow suit, throwing his head back as his own hand finds home on top of your head. your eagerness makes it hard for him to stay mad. if he was younger he would’ve been a little irritated if someone tried to take control, but maybe aging really did something and made your whims seem more tolerable for him. but what he loves most is seeing you struggle to fit his fat cock; whether it’s by your mouth or your pussy.

“just like that,” his voice drops an octave, watching most of his length disappear inside your mouth while your tongue runs against his veins. “fuckin’ look at me when you’re suckin’.”

you submissively comply to his command, meeting those sharp eyes you adore beneath the tousled mess of his blond and white hair. 

“you love daddy’s cock?” he doesn’t intend to give you a second to answer before he continues,  “then you wouldn’t mind chokin’ on it, don’t ya?” 

you moan in response just as he expected and he snorts through his nose. “of course you don’t.”

bakugou brings your head closer, shoving down his cock your throat before he starts to snap his hips. a chorus of curses pass his lips, taut muscles relaxing as he drowns in euphoria. drool soon starts to dribble from the corner of your lips and your jaw starts to ache, yet you’re still insistent on accommodating his cock– using your tongue when you could until he’s exploding with a mouthful of oaths.

“such a good girl.” he grunts, holding your head firmly with tension in his fingers as he stares down at you with knitted brows. “feels good havin’ dick in your mouth? hm?”

“hmm–” you moan in concur, the vibration almost drives him mad and it’s evident through the twitch you feel against your hollowed cheeks. with an exasperated groan, he pulls out his cock from your mouth and pumps it in his fist. 

“take it off and lie down. now.” his words thrum through you in a burst of heat. you swiftly discard the dress and rest on your back, spreading your legs in front of him in anticipation before he proceeds to climb on the bed. you shudder when he spits on your cunt before smothering his cock against the slit and down to your entrance to give extra lubrication. 

a deep, inarticulate sound rips from his throat, one that conveys pleasure as he sheathes his cock inside you. he can feel your walls sucking him in so welcomingly and squeezing him so tight that he thought he might cum then and there.

“that’s fuckin’ tight.” he girts out, pushing through the walls until he has bottomed out. with each hand on the sides of your head, his large and shredded build looms on top of you and keeps your smaller frame caged underneath. 

“daddy– s-so big.” you extend your arms to cling around his neck, looking up at him with a lust addled gaze. 

“i know you can handle me, sweetheart.” he smirks conceitedly and starts to roll his hips, dragging every ridge and vein against your walls through each thrust. your toes curl when he goes deeper and your nails dig into his back, leaving crimson trails as they rake.

“l-love you, daddy.” the words slip past your lips so naturally in flawless manifestation of your genuine feelings towards him. 

you observe how his lips stretch into a simper, fiery and lustrous eyes staring back at you before he replies, “love you too, ba– fuck–” 

bakugou feels you clench around him impossibly tighter and he leans down to kiss you, forcing you to swallow down his moans as he ruts inside you harder and faster.

“baby– that’s right. daddy fuckin’ loves you.” his low and resonant voice fills your ears, pleasure pulling taut in your lower stomach as the pressure begins to build up rapidly for your second orgasm. “–and he loves this tight cunt.”

“ah– daddy! p-please make me cum–” you start to babble, too lost in pleasure and your legs find themselves wrapping around bakugou’s waist to keep him closer and deeper.

“don’t you fucking dare cum yet.” he snarls before lifting himself up to keep his hands on the headboard in front of him and instantly blocking your view of the room. not that you mind when you’ve already set your eyes on him the whole time. 

“no matter how many times i’ve fucked you–” he pulls out almost completely before ramming in again, making you squeal.  “you still feel so fucking good.”

your hands reach to cup his face gently, your lips parted and wet, eyes glazed with adoration and an overflowing want for him. “all for you.” 

he chuckles quietly to himself. who knew that he would find himself burying his cock in some dumb college girl? with her heart filled eyes that tell him he’s some kind of a savior or the last man on earth. whether it’s all superficial or not, he thinks you’re pretty damn good at it.

“you sure make it hard for daddy not to love you.” he scoffs. you let out a needy whine when he pulls out and your hole convulses, instantly missing the way his cock stretches you out and makes you feel full. 

but it’s not for long when your vision suddenly keels as he flips you over to lie down on your stomach. bakugou easily hoists up your hips and pushes down your back to force you into a perfect arch before he sinks his throbbing cock inside your sloppy cunt without warning. 

“nghh– daddy–!” you cry as bakugou pounds into you with a menacing pace and hits you at the right places at the same time. 

“yeah? you like it when daddy uses you like the little slut you are?” he grabs a fistful of your hair, jerking your head up. “like you’re nothing but my little cocksleeve?”

“yesyesyes– daddy–! s-so deep– can’t!” your strength begins to drain out and you don’t know how much longer you can hold yourself  before he allows you to cum.

“you can– fuck– you’re clamping down on me.” he growls, one hand on your hips forming crescent shapes on your skin with his fingers.

your jaw has fallen slack, mouth gaping in breathless whimpers as you let bakugou abuse your little cunny while your own hands are balling into fists that your knuckles turn white. the air is filled with the sound of skin slapping against each other, mingling with his heavy pants.

“you’re really– hah– milking this fat cock.” his own rhythm turns sporadic, skin burning red with every second he prolongs his desire.

“please– daddy–” you let out a feeble moan and your legs begin to tremble as a result of the unbearable pressure tightening in your lower stomach. your pussy is already leaking with so much slick and it’s making a filthy mess on the bed. 

“you’re ready to cum for daddy?” he fucks you harder with deep strokes, knocking the breath from your lungs each time he presses into you. 

“pleasepleaseplease–” tears prickle from the corner of your eyes as the coil in your stomach threatens to snap.

“cum.” 

the word left his lips in a pure command and you break down instantly with a loud cry. a huge wash of pleasure winds its way through every nerve and your pussy gushes and clenches around his cock. 

“that’s it. good girl.” a deep growl rumbles in his chest as he observes every twitch of pleasure he has brought into you. 

“th-thank you, daddy.” you mumble, still deeply doused in ecstasy.

bakugou finally releases his harsh grip and your head plops down on the soft pillow while he pulls out and pumps his cock in his own fist, coated with your own arousal before he splurts thick ropes of cum all over your cheeks and watches as it trickles down to your cunt. 

after a brief moment of catching his breath, bakugou reaches for the nearest tissue box and helps to clean off the mess you both made. you let your exhausted body fall onto the mattress and he throws the used tissues away before leaning back on the headboard next to you, still panting and trying to get down from his high. 

“you okay?” he breaks the silence, flicking his gaze towards you and rubs your head gently in hopes to soothe the pain he caused from pulling your hair so roughly. 

you hum, seeking for solace from his touch as he pulls the blanket up to cover your bodies and reaches for his phone on the nightstand with his other hand. you silently observe him as he looks at his phone, probably reading and scrolling through emails or texts like he’d usually do after having you wrecked. 

“love you, daddy.” you suddenly squeak, yet bakugou doesn’t tear his eyes from the screen and it leaves you unsure if he heard you or not. 

“hm.” his response is indifferent and your stomach churns into an unpleasant feeling; one you don’t appreciate at all. 

“daddy.” you swallow past the lump in your throat. “i said i love you.”

bakugou clicks his tongue and your heart shatters slightly at the sound, thinking that you probably just annoyed him, “yeah, i heard you.”

“bakugou.” you suddenly snap and the hand on top of your head stills. you don’t know where the courage to call him by his name comes from, but you want to convey your sobriety over the current situation and for what you’re about to say next. cold shivers run down your spine once his attention diverges towards you and he raises a questioning brow, ushering you to speak. 

“i-i love you–” you gulp, taking a deep breath. “like, i’m in love with you.” 

his stare is impassive and there’s an uncomfortable silence weighing the air between the two of you. your cheeks begin to warm up with humiliation and a part of you dreads with regret. you aren’t sure how long the deafening silence lasted before you see a twitch at the corner of his lips. 

“you gotta be kidding me.” he snickers, shaking his head in disbelief. 

you rise up on your side and your eyes waver with confusion as you look at him. “b-but you said you love me too. you do, r-right?”

he scoffs, mostly galled by the fact that he’s actually having this conversation with you– a dumb college girl, but he doesn’t expect much either. “why the hell would i be in love with you? did i knock your head?”

getting straight to the point is one of bakugou’s nature; his bluntness is like a sharp knife that stabs you in the heart. 

“but you said–”

“why do you think i only said it when i had my cock buried inside your cunt?”

and it twists painfully. 

“forget about it. go to sleep.” he nonchalantly replies and returns back to his phone, brushing off the wounded look that’s written all over your face.

you feel humiliated, angered and disregarded. given that you were always spoiled, you can’t stand having your feelings unreciprocated and rejection is one of the things you aren’t familiar with.

“why? because you have a wife? you don’t even love her–”

you flinch when you hear the loud thud of bakugou slamming his phone down on the bed, but it’s not as fearsome as the malicious glare he’s shooting at you. “don’t you fucking say that. i don’t wanna hear that, especially coming from a dumb whore like you.”

harsh reality gives you a massive slap in the face. 

your heart is hammering against your chest and your vision begins to blur as tears well up in your eyes, threatening to spill out. you feel like you want to scream at him but the words you want to say only get caught in your throat. bakugou notices how you’re about to burst but he only rolls his eyes, expressing his vexation. 

“god,” he sighs exasperatedly and gets off from the bed to pick up his clothes from the floor. “the last thing i need is another fucking nuisance.”

“w-where are you going?” you croak as you watch him put on his clothes. 

bakugou turns to your direction and snarls, “what does it look like? leaving.” 

the pain in your chest becomes harder to bear, fat tears start to roll down your cheeks and when you try to reach for him, he coldly shoves your hand away. you saw how furious he could be through his phone calls but you were never on the receiving end; always the one who calmed him down and let him use you as a way to take out his frustrations on. now you’re nothing different than the rest of the people in his life, or maybe you were just too stupid to realize that you were never any different before too. 

“just leave when it’s time to check out. you’d know at least that much.” he scoffs as he walks to the door and twists the doorknob before turning back to you for what it seems would be the last time. 

“and don’t even think of finding me again.”

duskamethyst © 2020 • do not modify, translate or repost anywhere.

[anakinisvaderisanakin]

Impasse - A Vaderdala Oneshot

“You forget something, Lord Vader.”

Vader flinched, the voice as clear as a bell yet as foreign as the icy vacuum of space. He found himself frozen in place, the bulk of his hefty frame suddenly unbearable. Inside his chest, he felt the searing fingers of remorse and the scalding flames of rage warring for control. 

Against better judgment, he shifted to turn around. Against better judgment, he let down his guard and ignored unclipping his lightsaber. He knew the face he would find before he saw it, but he was still not prepared for the wave of emotion that spilled forth as he came face to face with his own ghosts. This one, he had expected long dead and buried.

“Padmé,” he gasped, but the voice that came out was blunt and deep and void of affection.

Still, the shock bled through. Padmé was as beautiful as the day he’d last seen her. Eyes fierce and determined, dark hair coming loose from her neatly tied bun. Her face was set in a scowl, blaster drawn and aiming straight for the chest panel on Vader’s chest as if it were a marked target meant for practice and precision fire. The air had shifted, the tension thick and heavy and oppressive as they stared each other down. No, more accurately Padmé’s intense, fiery glare was bearing down on Vader. Vader felt his anger dissipate the moment he met that stare; the ice cold regret and guilt crippling him inside out as it won the impasse.

“You said you had come to destroy the Rebellion. I am the last leader standing here. I alone. Will you destroy me now?” Padmé hissed through a clenched jaw, cheeks flushed but her hands steady.

Vader was familiar with the vow he had made, but now it seemed an impossible lie. Before his mind’s eye, he had envisioned old men and snot nosed kids. Politicians and traitors and cowards, incapable of accepting the Emperor’s grand design and his expert vision. The future was bright, the Sith had reclaimed their natural state in the circle of life - atop the ladder. Only fools and children would oppose such an evident supply of unlimited power. Yet, Padmé seemed to care for none of these things. Time had not slowed her down, it had not thawed the ice built in her heart - the ice Vader himself had put there.

“Well?” she pressed, voice tight, calm and collected.

The words escaped before Vader had any chance to rein himself in. Perhaps he never intended to.

“No.”

“No?” she repeated, as if mocking him but her expression revealed surprise and disbelief.

“Aren’t you here to execute your Rebel traitors?”

Vader said nothing, instead he reached for the saber strapped to his belt. He watched Padmé tense, watched her shoulder come up and the finger on the trigger twitch. In what might have been a gesture of surrender, he simply tossed his weapon between them. The gesture was barely a flick of his wrist, but it sent the hilt skidding across the smooth floors until it came to an premeditated gentle stop at Padmé’s feet. She glanced down to regard the token, an unreadable tinge of something somber gleaming in her eyes for a split second. When she looked back up, Vader had not moved. He stood with his hands at his sides, the bombardment outside the underground bunker shaking its hull; straining the already flickering lights.

“I will not fight you,” said Vader finally, as if that would be enough to soothe the woman’s stubborn spirits.

She furrowed her brow, the corner of her lips curling into a half sneer of disgust. It stung, and Vader might have recoiled from that alone had he not been the man he was. Changed, remolded and retooled. His heart had been ripped out once, and still Padmé’s presence willed its withered carcass to beat and blossom. At the same time, she tore it to shreds once more with the disdain her face held for him. He sensed it inside her, swirling and expanding into a palpable loathing. It cloaked her, surrounded her like a cloud. It reeked of pain, sorrow, and betrayal.

“You don’t know me. If you won’t fight, I will,” she said, every word calculated and sincere.

“‘Aggressive negotiations’.”

It was merely a statement, but its meaning rang true. Padmé straightened up, eyes suddenly wide as a ghost of horrified recognition filtered past her defenses. it was gone in the blink of an eye, but the colour that had drained from her already pale face was harder to conceal.

“Who told you?” she snarled, shifting the aim of her blaster towards Vader’s heart - knowing it would do no harm, but the gesture hit him like a slap across the face either way.

She was questioning how he had learned about her and The Jedi. Anakin Skywalker, her husband. Perhaps she had her sneaking suspicions, she must. But her aura betrayed none of it, it remained outraged and unsettled and adamant in her quest.

“You did.”

Padmé opened her mouth to deliver another scathing retort, but she snapped it close again. A tremor passed her slight frame, and it did not go unnoticed. Her resolve was faltering and waning, the lie she had convinced herself to believe no less a stretch of the imagination than the mental gymnastics Vader himself had been performing for the past four years. Ever since Mustafar, ever since he lost everything. Now, that very everything lost stood before him. Now, she was once more within his reach.

“I’m sorry. I tried,” he heard himself say, a feeble apology not nearly sufficient to excuse the heinous acts he had committed.

The voice was still not his own, but the words were earnest. Padmé lowered her blaster in slow, jerky motions but her eyes were transfixed on his. At the very least, Vader felt their gaze burn straight into his soul; into the furnace of his heart that had frozen over a million times. 

“You’re safe.”

It was a ridiculous profession, Padmé’s very existence as part of the Rebellion was a death sentence. But she was alive, she was well and healthy and stable and here. She had not died. He had failed her, but she had lived. He took one step towards her, feeling just as wary and insecure as she looked. She blinked rapidly, shaking her head in a tiny micromovement. She mouthed something, but there was no sound accompanying the motion. Vader understood her fear, yet it pained him to no end. He was unrecognizable, locked within this jettblack prison of durasteel, cybernetics and synth flesh. There was so little left of his physical body, and even less of the man Padmé had once loved.

“It can’t be…” she whispered, hoarse as the tendons at the sides of her neck strained.

Vader felt the urge to cry, an urge so overpowering. An urge that had not found him since Mustafar, since the fall of the Jedi and the Republic. He had no tears to cry, no measure to shed tears by. His retinas, his tear ducts were long since eaten away by flames and embers. Still, his eyes stung. A warmth pressed behind them, a heaviness bearing down on his chest like a fist squeezing the air out of his lungs. Lungs he no longer had.

“Do what you must. I am not afraid to die.”

Padmé’s eyes widened, mouth falling open as realization dawned upon her. She understood. Vader expected her to back away, expected her to cry, to yell, to fire. Anything. Instead, she stood stone faced. As frail as porcelain, yet as sturdy as the brightest star in the Galaxy. Now, she took a step towards him. Then another. Closing the gap, inch by inch, foot by foot. She tipped her head back, never once drawing her eyes from the opaque crimson lenses of Vader’s eyes that substituted eyes. They served for the damaged, half blind eyes hidden behind.

“What have they done to you?” Padmé’s resolute voice murmured; full of compassion and love, emotions that seemed to have sprung out of the ether.

Yet, what she really meant was; what have you done to yourself?

Vader did not falter as she stopped but a breath away. Her trembling, slender fingers reached for his face plate. Her tiny hand brushed over the mouthpiece, running over the sharp angles and the netted grill. A breath was forced through it, with a loud hiss and the smell of sanitizer and bacta fluids followed it. Padmé’s eyes were round, warm, and mournful. They were glassy, her cheeks flushed but it was Vader who wished more than ever that he might shed a tear. If she were to strike him down, he deserved it. He would allow it. He would let her.

“Anakin.”

It was not a question. She knew, it was evident in the pitiful, feeble smile of shock and relief alike that grazed her lips. It was gone in an instant, but it had said enough. So used to denouncing his name, denouncing himself and all he was and had been - Vader found himself unable to deflect her. She was right. He had been wrong for so long, choosing to live in darkness and denial. No more.

“Yes.”

Anakin meant it.

****

Have a short Vaderdala AU.