#a part of me will always ache for your touch - for your mere presence - for when i love i do so with my whole being and i dont ever let go

[xxsabitoxx]

Baby Me

Satoru x Fem!Reader

Warnings: fluff and nothing else.

A/N: too much is going on in the Gojo realm, both in the anime currently and the manga, so let’s take a minute to forget and ease the pain with some soft Toru~

Word count: 1.2k

His body is aching, every atom that makes up his being is begging for sleep. But that won’t stop Satoru from showering, not wanting to dirty your shared bed with his sweat. Or even worse, wake you up cause he smells of sweat and blood. So, Satoru drags his half-awake body through your shared apartment, stumbling into the bathroom unceremoniously and turning on the hot water. He was swaying on his feet by the time he got his ruined uniform off and into the hamper, eyes barely open as he stepped into the steam filled shower. 

Satoru wasn’t even sure how long he had stood under the current, blood and dirt running off of his body in rivets. It stuck out harshly against the white tiles of the shower floor, not that he could really care at that moment. He’d just feel bad if you had to clean it up in the morning. It wasn’t until someone’s presence entered the bathroom that Satoru snapped out of his daze just a bit. He would have noticed them sooner, but his guard was always down when it came to you. “Toru? Why didn’t you wake me up?” You mumble softly, shedding your clothing with the intention of getting in with him. 

“It’s nearly three in the morning, baby. You need your sleep.” Groggy and full of exhaustion, it made your heart ache a bit. “Nonsense, let me help you clean up.” Satoru smiled a bit, grimacing as even that proved to be a bit of a tiring task. “You’re too kind to me.” But you merely hushed him, stepping under the hot water and reaching for a loofa and his favourite soap. “I love you, Toru. There is no such thing as being too kind with you.” You dumped a generous amount of soap into the white loofa before sticking it under the water again. “Now let me wash you.” 

There were things far more intimate than sex, Satoru didn’t realize that until he started dating you. Moments like this, for example, where you so tenderly scrubbed his skin clean of every impurity he had. Standing naked together under the hot water, in the early hours of the morning, as if you were the only two people on earth. Satoru craved these moments just as much as he craved you. “None of this blood is your own.” You laughed softly, placing a kiss on his spine now it was clean. “I’d hope.” Was all he could muster, nearly falling asleep where he stood because your touch was so tender.

You laughed softly before placing another kiss, trailing them down his spine until you reached the base. Satoru shivered at the feeling, your hand holding his hip as you told him to turn around. He did as you asked, giving you a lazy smile as you began to scrub the front of his body with the loofa. “I’ll shampoo your hair next.” He simply nodded, eyes shutting as he let the hot water run down his back. You were careful as you moved, alternating pressure depending on what part of him you were scrubbing. You knew he was rather ticklish so you’d be more careful when scrubbing his abdomen. But you also knew he enjoyed the way the loofa felt on his sore arms when you scrubbed a little harder. 

Satoru could go on for hours about how he didn’t think he deserved this treatment. He couldn’t even begin to understand how he had gotten so lucky, fighting curses all night just to come home to his beautiful girlfriend would be enough. And yet, you pull yourself out of bed regardless of the hour and shower with him. You scrub his body until he is clean, wash his hair until his shoulders go slack from the feeling, dry him off with a fluffy towel and shower him in kisses. 

He wasn’t sure what he had done in a past life to get this lucky, but he thanked the stars every night for giving you to him. 

“You’re going to fall asleep while standing.” You set the loofa down, all finished after scrubbing his body clean. All Satoru did was hum in response, bending down to press his forehead into your shoulder. “Let me scrub your hair and then we can dry off and go to bed, my big, strong boy.” You teased as his arms wrapped around your middle, hugging you tight. “Toru~ let me wash your hair and we’ll be done.” He only hugged you tighter, with a sigh, you reached around him the best you could to grab his shampoo bottle. Still, he didn’t let go. 

You squeezed some of the contents on top of his head, laughing as he whined about it being cold before you started to massage the contents in. You smiled a little harder when he moved his head from your shoulder to nuzzle into your neck instead. At his height, you couldn’t understand how the position was even comfortable. Still, you scrubbed until his hair was full of sudsy bubbles. “Time to rinse.” You cooed softly, as if he was a small child. Reluctantly, Satoru straightened. With eyes still closed, he leaned back and rinsed his head. 

You took that time to quickly wash yourself, thankful you had put your hair up before getting in with him. “M’kay bub, time to get out.” His eyes opened a bit for that, nose scrunching at the use of “bub”, you found it cute. Within seconds the water was turned off and the steam began to subside, both of you stepping into the lights Satoru now deemed to be “too bright”. You babied him, wrapping him in a warm towel while you used another to ruffle his hair dry. Satoru gave a half hearted attempt to wrap you in a towel as well, but the man had begun to sway on his feet yet again, eyes fully closed as you dragged him out of the bathroom. 

“C’mon, lover boy, let’s get you dressed.” You giggled, watching his nose scrunch again but his eyes didn’t open. Satoru moved past you, dropping the towel and flopping onto the mattress. His groan of relief nearly shook the whole apartment. “Alright, clothes are a morning problem.” You concluded for him, dropping your own towel to crawl into bed beside him. You barely adjusted on the mattress before Satoru was moving to wrap you in a tight bear hug. “Cuddle me.” was all he said before promptly passing out, leaving you a bit surprised when his infinity didn’t immediately push you away.

“Huh… that's new.” 

Then again, you weren’t used to Satoru falling asleep before you. Perhaps he had learned of a way to keep it off while he slept, or maybe he had figured out a way to have it encompass both of you. Regardless, you couldn’t be bothered to dwell on the matter. You were quickly remembering that it was past three in the morning, your exhaustion was creeping up on you quickly. Now that Satoru was home and safe in your bed, you could sleep much easier. You moved the best you could in his embrace, throwing your leg over his hip and resting a hand on his side before giving up on getting any more wiggle room. “Night, Toru~” you sigh, melting into his arms. 

#jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #gojo satoru fluff #gojo fluff #satoru fluff #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru imagine #gojo satoru fanfic #jjk fanfic #jjk imagines #jujutsu kaisen imagines #gojo x y/n #satoru x reader

[sinkovia]

Selfish asshole

Simon “Ghost” Riley x Fem!Reader

Fluff w/ slight Angst

The bond between you and Ghost had always been deep, a connection that went beyond words. In the subtle gestures and the extra efforts, your love for him remained a secret. Ghost, perceptive as ever, saw the signs – the smiles, the looks, the special attention reserved just for him and he loved every bit of it. You always went the extra mile for him, making sure his mornings started with a cup of tea, ready by the time he came down from his barracks.

You stayed up late with him when he couldn't sleep, offering your comforting presence. You were always there for him, and he appreciated that more than words could express. Ghost cherished you, you were so beautiful in his eyes. He found comfort in the sound of your voice and the way you looked at him as if he were more than just a soldier.

Ghost couldn't help but feel a warmth in his heart every time you were around.

Yet, beneath the surface, a silent struggle unfolded within him. He recognized the love growing within your heart, mirroring the emotions he held but could never admit. The unspoken truth became a weight, and he made a painful decision to distance himself. In his eyes, you deserved more than what he believed he could offer.

Haunted by his past and perceiving himself as a mere shell, Ghost felt a duty to spare you from the darkness that clung to him. He became distant, withdrawing from the closeness you once shared, hoping you'd find happiness elsewhere. The short responses and a subtle coldness were his way of urging you to move on, to seek love with someone who could provide the life he thought you deserved.

It was a choice Ghost made out of love, even if it meant sacrificing his own feelings.

The change in Ghost's behavior was immediately noticeable. He started his days earlier, and the morning tea ritual you once shared slowly faded away.

As the days went by, the once vibrant connection between you two started to fade. The warmth in his eyes dimmed, and the shared moments that used to bring you joy now felt like distant memories. It was as if he had built an impenetrable wall around himself, shutting you out.

You found yourself at a loss, trying to comprehend what had gone wrong. Hurt and confusion crept into your heart as you grappled with the unexplained distance. You missed him more than words could explain. The ache grew, prompting you to confront him about it.

"Hey, do you think we can—" Your words hung in the air as he turned abruptly, walking away. Determined to have answers, you gently reached for his arm, concern etched on your face. But before you could express your worries, he snapped, his voice laced with irritation.

"Don't fucking touch me." He yanked his arm away, leaving you shocked by the sudden change. In all the time you'd known him, he had never raised his voice at you.

"Please just tell me what's wrong. Why are you pushing me away? Was it something I said?"

He glanced around, a momentary flicker of sadness crossing his eyes before the familiar cold mask returned. Towering over you, he stared into your eyes, contemplating something. The cold, dead expression dominated, and the words he spoke cut through your heart.

"You're always bothering me, following me around like a lost puppy! You never give me my fucking space!" Your lips parted, face etched in disbelief and pain.

“You don't mean that.” The words barely escaped in a whisper, your heart breaking.

“I do. Now leave me alone.”

His gaze softened as he saw your teary-eyed expression, regret clouding his eyes. The harsh words he yelled were filled with remorse, but he believed they were necessary lies to push you away. With your heart shattered, you turned and walked away, leaving Ghost alone with his regrets and self-imposed isolation. He hoped that the hurtful words would be enough for you to move on, to find someone better. As you hurried to your room, tears streaming down your face, you ran into Soap, further entangling your emotions in the web of confusion and pain.

"Bloody hell lass, are you okay?"

You broke down in the hallway, pouring your heart out to Soap about your feelings for Ghost and what he had said to you when you tried to talk to him. Anger fueled him, and he stormed away to find Ghost. Entering the rec room, he found him sitting alone on the couch. Ghost's eyes met Soap's as he was about to ask what he was doing, but Soap's knuckles collided with his jaw.

Soap, who knew Ghost felt the same way about you, couldn't fathom why he would say something hurtful to you.

"You're pathetic, Ghost, you know that?" he staggered back from the impact, shock evident in his wide eyes.

"You're a fucking coward." Soap's frustration echoed in his voice as he berated him for hurting your feelings when he knew you both loved each other. Ghost got up, towering over Soap, breathing quickening. He pushed passed him to walk away, but Soap spoke up again.

"You hate Y/n, admit it."

Ghost stopped dead in his tracks, turned, and walked up to Soap, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt.

"You don't know anything about how I feel. You have no idea how I feel about her. If I told her how I really felt, she would drop everything to be with me. She would sacrifice everything good in her life for me because that's the type of person she is. She's perfect, Soap, the best thing that has ever happened to me. She's too good for someone like me. I won't let myself ruin her. I refuse to let that happen."

You had been standing at the entrance of the rec room, hearing everything. Soap's gaze shifted to you, and Ghost quickly turned around. His eyes widened in shock as you walked up to him with anger in your eyes. Without hesitation, you raised your hand and slapped him across the face.

"You selfish asshole."

Both Ghost and Soap's eyes widened, not expecting such a reaction from you.

"Why can't you let yourself be happy for once in your life Ghost? I love you more than anything. I don't care if you think you're not good enough for me. You are enough. You are more than enough, Ghost. You make me so happy. Please just let me do the same for you."

Ghost opened his mouth to object, but you quickly put your finger up, shushing him.

"I'll be at Maggianos at 8pm tomorrow night. If you don't show then I'll have my answers and if you do then it's a date." with that you turned and walked out of the rec room.

The next evening, you were sitting in a booth by yourself waiting. You checked the time on your phone, It was 8:05. You wondered if he would show up. You gave him five more minutes and still, he had not come. You sigh and get up from the booth, as you were turning to leave you saw him standing there, flowers in hand and his mask off.

You smile as he walks up to you and hands you the flowers. "Your late"

"I know, I'm sorry"

Seated across from each other, you spent hours talking over dinner, sharing a romantic night. As the night grew late, you both returned to the base together. Walking you to your room, Ghost lingered, and you chatted for a few moments before bidding each other farewell. As he began to leave while you unlocked your door, he suddenly turned around, cupping your face and planting a soft kiss on your lips.

"I couldn't spend another second wondering what it felt like, I'm sorry," he whispered against your lips. Smiling, you responded by gently placing your hand behind his neck and pulling him into another soft kiss.

Pulling away, he smiled down at you, admiring your features. Despite not being religious, he thanked god for having someone as pure and perfect as you in his life. "Goodnight, Y/n."

"Goodnight, Ghost."

"Simon," he said, gazing down at you with a gaze full of love.

"Goodnight, Simon." The sound of his name coming from you made his heart swell, and he planted a kiss on your forehead before walking back to his room. Smiling, you entered yours, closing the door behind you.

You found yourself lying on your bed, basking in the afterglow of the evening. The room held a serene ambiance as you reflected on the moments you two shared.

Thoughts of how good your life had become flooded your mind, and a contented smile graced your face. The memory of the date lingered, and you couldn't help but replay the sweet moments, the laughter, and the connection you felt.

Your thoughts shifted to the warmth of Simon's lips, savoring the tender kisses exchanged. The sensation lingered, and you found yourself lost in the euphoria of the moment. As you lay there, the room filled with a sense of fulfillment, your heart swelled with gratitude for the happiness that had found its way into your life.

#call of duty #cod #cod fanfic #cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #cod mw3 #cod x reader #writers #call of duty modern warfare #cod community #cod simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley cod #simon riley x female reader #simon ghost x you #simon ghost riley x you #ghost angst #ghost fluff #simon ghost riley x reader #fluff #cod mwii #cod fluff #call of duty x reader #call of duty mw2 #call of duty fanfic

[jobean12-blog]

Heart of a Wolf

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader (Werewolf!Bucky)

Word Count: 746

Summary: Life without Bucky is unbearable but when he somehow returns to you, changed but the same, you hold on to all hope that it's more than just a dream.

Author's Note: Just needed to get this out and I love werewolf!bucky. Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you sweet Daisy🥰

Warnings: angsty beginning, mentions of grief, there is a lot of softness and love too

In the stillness of the night you lie awake. The shadows cast by the moon dance along the bare walls while the whispers of the wind linger. The darkness envelopes you, echoing the emptiness you feel inside. The only sound you hear is that of your own heartbeat, a slow and rhythmic reminder of what he left behind.

The world itself feels withdrawn and you’re left alone with the weight of your grief. Your tired mind plays tricks on you. The dimly lit corners of your perception hold illusions of color…blue like the ocean. Somewhere, deep down, you know these visions are mere remnants of your longing for a love lost.

The night, once shared in whispered promises and soft touches, has transformed into a vast void of emptiness and heartache. The profound silence is punctuated only by the ache you feel but you grasp at the fleeting solace found in the illusionary glimpses of his presence.

As the night deepens and your sorrow crushes you nearly to dust, you whisper his name, one last attempt, one last plea.

Silence.

But just as you close your eyes to succumb to the nightmare, the air thickens with an otherworldly energy, it’s presence felt in every corner of the room. It settles into your bones, warm and familiar.

The shadows stir, the darkness parting for something even stronger, something filled with a love and longing that transcends all else, even fear.

Your heart beats with new life and you search in the darkness, hope filling your soul.

“Bucky?”

“I have missed you more than life itself,” he whispers, emerging from the dark.

His eyes, though somehow more beautiful than before, still carry the same depth of emotion that connects your souls. His voice, a whisper that both resonates with the echoes of the past and the enchantment of the present, beckons you.

He extends his hand, a silent invitation that holds the promise of things you cannot begin to fathom but still somehow understand.

You rush to him, clinging to the softness of his skin and the hardness of muscle that ripples beneath. He captures you in his embrace, his hands wandering with a reverence over the curves he once cherished and finding new life in every touch.

“Bucky,” you cry, burying your face in his neck and combing your fingers through his long, dark hair.

His lips ghost along your jaw as he cups your chin and breathes you in.

“I have done everything to come back to you,” he murmurs before his lips brush yours. “And here you are. Waiting.”

“I’ve waited every night since,” you say softly.

His long fingers caress your skin and he draws your closer, pressing his lips to yours.

As the feel and taste of you consumes his senses he comes alive, his desire for you unbridled in its release.

Your name falls from his lips as his body begins to contort and shift. Fur grows like dark, silken threads, soft and lustrous in the moonlight. Bones groan and creak until he towers above you, his sharp teeth gleaming as his snout twitches with his deep breaths.

With a gasp you take an unsteady step back. He does nothing to hinder your retreat but you can see his long, sharp claws twitch at his sides.

“What happ…?” you start, choking on any other words.

With trembling lips you study him, some of your surprise and fear dissipating as he holds you captive with his gaze, one still familiar but filled with vulnerability and love.

“I made a choice,” he says, his voice a low rumble. “One I knew would bring me back to you.”

Your fingers reach out, delicate and unsure.

“Bucky.”

His whispered name holds finality and when your fingertips touch his fur your eyelashes flutter and your breath rushes out.

“Doll,” he breathes out, his own eyes closing as he gathers you against him, the tension in his body melting away.

The feeling of warmth and safety envelopes you and when you turn your face to his fur his scent is the same.

He bends over you, nuzzling your neck with his snout as he drags it along the delicate curve with a long inhale.

“Every night I’ve dreamed of having you in my arms again,” he hums against your skin.

Your fingers curl into his fur and you burrow closer.

“Please don’t let this be a dream,” you whisper. “If it is, I don’t want to wake up.”  

@hiddles-rose @randomfandompenguin @lizette50 @blackwidownat2814 @littleseasiren @kmc1989 @buckysdollforlife

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #werewolf!bucky #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n #werewolf!Bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky au #bucky #werewolf au #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan

[aajxs]

let me go , a.s

synopsis - the one where anakin betrays the jedi, and it's all for you.

pairings - anakin skywalker x fem!jedi!reader

warnings - obsessive anakin, mentions of murder, violence, ANGST, mentions of death, friends to ?, implied kidnapping

w/c - 1.2k

a/n - loosely based off of that one joe goldberg line 'theres not a line in the world that I wouldn't cross for you'. I'm most definitely gonna make a part two for this for my own enjoyment

part two , masterlist .

There were bodies. So many bodies. The bodies of people you had always considered family. The bodies of people you loved. The bodies of children. And the worst part about it all, was that you could only bring yourself to care about Anakin. Where was he in the midst of all this? Did you already step over his body?

You ached as you made your way through the Jedi temple, your ignited lightsaber heavy in your hands. The hum of the weapon was all you could hear as you walked, cautiously checking every inch of the place you had called home only days before.

Every once and awhile you would step over someone you had held conversations with before. Or someone you had sparred with as practice. It had been what felt like hours before you finally clicked your lightsaber onto your belt and gained the courage to check a body.

You didn't want to believe it at first, but you knew once you checked that most of these people were killed by a lightsaber. The burn marks were more evident on some than others. It couldn't have been a Sith Lord. Even a Sith knew better than to enter a place filled to the brim with Jedi.

As a Padawan, you were taught to always follow the code. But as you grew into an esteemed, well known Jedi, you soon realized that a lot of the rules were outdated and unreasonable. One rule that you never fully understood was the attachment rule.

The lot of you were taken from your families as children, some even babies, all for one simple reason. You could wield the force. You were forced to grow up with children you either had everything or nothing in common with.

You knew almost every single being that lie dead on the floors of this temple.

The tears that had once ran down your face had long dried up. Your number one priority in that moment was to find Anakin. Dead or not, you needed to know where he was.

You had just started to get up when you felt a presence behind you. You almost immediately unclipped your lightsaber and ignited it, successfully blocking the strong blow that would have killed you in mere seconds.

The color of your lightsaber and the blue of theirs familiarly clashed. "Anakin!" You exclaimed as you finally got a good look at the man under the cloak. The sound of your voice made him freeze and back away from you, "Oh, Anakin!" You breathily said as you clipped your lightsaber onto your belt and wrapped your arms around his neck, embracing him.

"Y/N.." He rasped, his arms tightly wrapping around you in a protective hold. "What happened, Ani?" You said, pulling away slightly to look into your best friends eyes. Anakin took in your features as if it was his first time seeing you in years. You were wearing your usual Jedi robes along with your cloak draped around your body, your eyes were glossy and your cheeks were stained with tears.

"Anakin, what happened?" You repeated, hoping to get an answer. It wasn't long before he started rambling. "We can finally be happy together. I'm powerful, more powerful than I've ever been, Y/N." Anakin said, a smile growing on his face as he pulled you to his chest once again. He rested his head on top of yours, "I can protect you. We can go far, far away, and never return." He said as he held you.

"Anakin— What are you talking about?" You questioned as you pulled away from the embrace once again. "Anakin our friends are dead, and you want to just run?" You said as Anakin cupped your face.

You wanted to melt into his touch, you wanted to cry in his arms, but this was not the Anakin you hugged goodbye days ago. This was not the Anakin you snuck out with as Padawans. And this most definitely was not the Anakin you loved.

The devilish look in his eyes and the smile on his lips answered all of your questions. Anakin killed these people. And he would kill you next. "What have you done?" You quietly said as you began to back away from the man in front of you. When he took a step forward you reached for your lightsaber, making his smile slowly drop.

"Don't- Don't do that, Y/N." He said, closing his eyes and shaking his head. There was nobody around you and Anakin, nobody breathing at least, and after he ruthlessly murdered all of these people— he doesn't want you to be afraid of him? You let out a shaky breath and watched as he gazed at you with an unfamiliar look.

"Tell me it wasn't you Anakin, tell me you didn't kill these people." You said, your trembling hand now centimeters away from your lightsaber. He took a step forward, you look a step back. "Y/N don't force me away, not now. Not after everything I did for us. For you." Anakin said breathily, holding both of his hands out in an attempt to show you he was harmless.

"For me? Wake up, Ani! These people are dead! You killed them all!" You cried as you backed away from him. "Please- please, you need to understand-" Anakin said, his eyes now glossed over. "I did this for you!" He pleaded as he took slow steps towards you.

You wouldn't understand why he did it even if he explained it to you word for word. You wouldn't understand the visions he's had of your death. The nightmares that have been haunting him for weeks on end. Anakin loved you far too much to let you die, and there were only so many ways he could prevent it from happening.

Killing off the Jedi was just one of them.

You stopped backing away from Anakin, and he stopped walking towards you. "Anakin you're not thinking straight," You started, "No- Y/N you're not listening!" He yelled, making you flinch. You were caught off guard at the sudden change in demeanor. "Y/N I killed these people to ensure your safety, I won't let the Jedi order get in the way of my love for you anymore!" Anakin said as he grabbed your wrist, falling to his knees in front of you.

He gazed up at you longingly, "Y/N, I love you, please stop running." He said quietly, "Please just- let's just leave! We can go far away, we can be happy together!" Anakin pleaded, making you slowly shake your head. "Anakin, I love you. I love you so much, but not like this." You cried as you brought your hands up to cup his face, his hand still tightly wrapped around your wrist.

"The Anakin I fell in love with wouldn't have killed all of these people. Not even for me." You said as you caressed his cheek, wiping his tears as your own fell down your face and onto your brown robe. "Y/N, please, I love you-" Anakin started as he leaned into your touch, "If you love me, you'll let me go." You muttered as you squatted down to Anakin's level.

"Y/N.. I'm afraid—" He began, hesitantly pausing. His eyes darted around for a moment before his glossy eyes locked with yours. "Afraid of what, Ani?" You questioned, "I'm afraid I can't do that." Anakin said monotonously before swiftly unclipping his lightsaber and harshly hitting you twice over the head with the hilt, effectively knocking you out.

"I'm sorry it had to be this way." Anakin muttered as you fell into him. "I love you."

© AAJXS

#( 📝 aajxs — written works . ) #anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker x female reader #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin x reader #star wars #star wars x reader #darth vader x reader #darth vader #Spotify

[blackcoffeeofmelancholy]

the brothers comfort you during a panic attack

words: 4121

warnings: depictions of anxiety and panic attacks

notes: I'm reuploading my previous work from my old blog, so I have everything in one place. I'm starting with the first piece I wrote for Obey Me. I have a part two with the dateables in my WIPs that I hope to finish one day.

As always, I apologize for any spelling or grammatical errors that may have gone unnoticed. Thank you to those who take the time to read and comment on my work; it’s greatly appreciated ♥

LUCIFER

Lucifer is troubled. Following lunch, you disappeared, currently absent from class. This is unlike you, his worry intensifying every minute you’re out of his sight. Yet he maintains his composure, resigning himself to scouring the academy grounds. Time passes at a torturous pace, his thoughts beginning to take a turn for the worse. He contemplates whether to involve his brothers and Lord Diavolo himself at this rate, however, the sound of his D.D.D diverts his attention. A wave of relief washes over him at the sight of your name lighting up his screen, chased by frustration at you, your silence, and himself for losing track of you so easily; he couldn’t bear living if anything happened to you under his watch. He expects this behavior from his brothers, not you. Though his heart sinks, the Avatar of Pride uncharacteristically overcome with guilt while he reads your message. Of course, you are not his brothers. He should not have doubted you.

Your texts are apprehensive, a weighty pause between them as you hesitate to lay bare the darkest depths of your soul. He approaches you cautiously, to avoid upsetting you further. Your words alone convey the sheer panic taking possession of you, the last of your strength used to press send. Outside he discovers you, huddled miserably in an isolated corner of the building, swathed in shadow. The desire to shelter you from the world burns within him, but your eyes widen fearfully in his presence, wounding his pride. Immediately, you apologize. Sorry you’re missing class, that you left without telling anyone, and upset him—especially when you’re aware of his busy schedule. You’re sorry for not having the courage to pull yourself together, succumbing to your anxiety, your shame palpable. The hand clutching your D.D.D is trembling, your chest heaving as you struggle to breathe. He aches for you, each tear shed hurting more than the last, your pain managing to touch the very core of his being and set him alight.

If anyone is sorry, it’s him, pride be damned. Kneeling in front of you, he assures you an apology isn’t necessary—your well-being is of great importance to him. He wants you to rely on him, grateful you confided in him despite your doubts. Hopefully, he can eventually put your mind at ease. His voice is low and soothing as he continues to console you, making sure you’re aware he’s not upset, and your feelings are valid. Although he’s not familiar with the inner workings of anxiety itself, he’s willing to listen, learning how to support you to the best of his ability—starting today, provided you’re comfortable accepting his offer. Initially, he prioritized your safety for the sake of the exchange program and Lord Diavolo’s wish to unite the three realms, now it’s merely out of adoration for you, his beloved. Once you’re ready, he’ll let you know you’re not alone. He’s never too busy on your behalf. 

Offering you his hand, a smile graces his features as you accept. Slowly, he helps you to your feet, steadying you against him. He notes the way you relax at his touch, shoulders sagging and head coming to rest on his chest. Only you exist at this moment, his gaze never leaving you, not even for a second. Standing in silence until your breathing settles and you regain your balance, he sees you through the height of your attack before escorting you back to the House of Lamentation. He’ll personally excuse you from the remainder of your classes, understanding you need a quiet place to recover. Classical music plays softly in the background of his room, and he’s content to have you in his embrace, drawing you onto his lap after you finish the tea he brewed to calm your nerves. Lucifer pays you special attention, massaging your tired body and kissing you tenderly, his breath fanning across your lips as he reminds you how special you truly are—brave, compassionate, and incredibly loved.

MAMMON

Mammon mourns his loss, wondering how he let them gain the upper hand; admittedly, a foolish mistake on his part. He dreads breaking the news to Lucifer, and the resentment that shows on his brothers' faces once he confesses does little to ease his mind. Still, he worries about your reaction most of all, knowing his stupidity has put you in a precarious position. In that moment he believes their words—only a greedy scumbag like himself dares to place his human’s happiness on the line. Although certain of his win at the time, he should consider how his actions affect you more often; otherwise, how can he claim he’s the Great Mammon? His confidence is his downfall in the end. Now you’ll suffer along with him. Yet you feign optimism, attempting to soothe everything over despite your innocence. His guilt only grows, a heavy weight on his shoulders; one he deserves.

Three days of waiting on and performing for large crowds at The Fall proves hectic for everyone. He can tell you’re struggling beneath the facade of a composed and hospitable server, going above and beyond to ensure the patrons leave satisfied. You even lend him and his brothers a hand, coming to their rescue on multiple occasions; it should be him making it as easy on you as possible. His concern for you runs deep, no matter how hard he tries to maintain his usual air of indifference, but you have the nerve to reassure him—it’s meant to be the opposite, dammit. Each night he goes out of his way to check on you, frustrated that you continue to dance around the subject. He can see the exhaustion on your face, hear the slight tremor in your voice, the toll his stupid decision is taking on you, and it stings. You comfort him, even when he’s undeserving, so why won’t you allow him to hold you and kiss the pain away? Not that he’s asked. You should realize by now you can rely on him, right?

Watching you suffer in silence tortures him. He can’t deny it regardless of his best efforts to make light of the situation. You barely eat or spend time outside your room, saying you’re tired, which isn’t a lie—working is exhausting, no doubt about it—but he understands you well enough to notice the subtle signs of your anxiety, your smile unable to trick him into believing otherwise. Perhaps you find him as insufferable as his brothers do, or worse, and don’t want to see his face after what he’s done. That doesn’t stop him from showing up at your door, hoping he can offer some form of comfort no matter how small. However, you keep up appearances, supporting the seven of them during the longest weekend of their lives. You work hard too, his chest swelling with pride as he watches you care for his brothers and customers alike. How can you like an idiot like him? You’re selfless and loving, looking past his flaws to see what lay beneath his sin. His human. His angel. He wants—no needs—you to be okay.

The last day comes and goes in a blur. Finally, he can toss these ridiculous clothes and rabbit ears in the trash and never perform that dance again. Better yet, you’re free of his burden, though the guilt remains. He can’t relax until he’s positive you’re okay and know he’s genuinely sorry. Standing outside your room, he tries to muster up the courage to open his heart to you—apologies are not his strong suit—when he hears you crying. They’re small, muffled sobs that manage to shake him to his core and make his blood run cold. He should knock, but he can’t control himself, throwing the door open without hesitation and rushing to your side. The sight of your tears is almost too much to bear, and he draws you into his embrace, face heating up at his own moment of vulnerability, but this is about you, not him. He can be strong for you too, telling you everything’s going to be okay, that the Great Mammon is here to help.

After his stupidity, you tell him you were afraid to bother him. He can hardly suppress the shock at your confession, the sadness in your eyes breaking his heart. You wanted to make sure it went smoothly for his sake? You suffered through hell alone because you chose to put his feelings first? Crazy. Though he thanks you, not completely ashamed to admit he’s touched. However, he tells you that you don’t have to put aside your feelings for his benefit; he prefers to be by your side than know you’re having a rough time on your own. He is your first. Taking the initiative, he asks what he can do to make it up to you, no matter how big or small the request is because he’ll do it in a heartbeat. You opt to stay in his arms, burying your face into his chest, and he wipes away your remaining tears, being as gentle as he possibly can. He can feel how tense your body is, your skin flushed, and it takes a while until you stop shaking. It’s moments like these he’ll tell you how much you mean to him—that he loves you—and he wants you to come to him for everything. He’ll hold you, taking your hand in his, and kiss you with all the adoration in the world because you’re incredibly important to him. Mammon can attest to that.

LEVIATHAN

Leviathan invites you to his room to play video games, a daily routine the two of you have comfortably fallen into. He loves gaming with you, though on occasion you opt to watch instead, thoroughly enthralled by whatever is on the screen. Miraculously, you enjoy listening to him ramble—whether it’s about the game he’s playing, anime he’s watching, or TSL among other things—genuinely showing interest in his passions; he’s incapable of expressing how truly grateful he is for your company. His heart nearly bursts whenever you compliment him on his gaming prowess, encourage him during a particularly intense battle, or merely tell him how you enjoy hanging out. How did a gross otaku like him get so incredibly lucky? He can hardly believe you love him of all demons. The thought alone sounds crazy. 

Unable to contain his excitement, he awaits your arrival that night, ensuring everything is perfect when he hears a knock on the door. However, his smile fades the moment he lays eyes on you, mind beginning to race as he wonders why you look so miserable, your gaze trained on your hands. Before he can speak, you apologize, dissolving into tears while you return the game he let you borrow. You’re stuttering, completely breathless, and he can barely hear you confess to accidentally corrupting his data in your panic. In fact, he loses track of the number of times you choke out an apology. He treasures his games, his collection extensive, but he cherishes you most of all. The loss is a minor annoyance, nothing that lessens the feelings he harbors for you. Although difficult, he overcomes his insecurities to show you it’s okay—you’re loved.

Not only are you sad, but you’re also terrified, a part of him wanting to destroy the game itself if it means you never have to experience the pain that torments you now. Regarding you carefully, afraid to make matters worse, he reassures you that he’s not upset—far from it, honestly—and that he cares about you more than any game. No stranger to your panic attacks, he reaches out to take your hand in his, hoping you find comfort in what he has to offer. And when you finally glance up, hope shining in your tear-filled eyes, he can’t help but wrap you in his arms. A warmth spreads across his face, heart pounding in his ears, but he knows you need him, allowing his body to relax around yours.

Holding you against him, he tells you everything’s all right, stuttering out how he loves you and, most importantly, wants to you to feel better. Your arms circle around his waist, causing his heart to jump into his throat, but he only pulls you closer. You’re his Henry, and what friend is he if you can’t rely on him? Leviathan is understanding, wanting you to come to him for support at your most vulnerable. Now he puts his knowledge to the test, easing you into his room with continuous words of affirmation. You always know how to console him at his lowest, and he hopes he can return the favor. If anyone deserves to feel loved it’s you, who brought joy into his otherwise bleak world, and he’ll sit with you every day and night if you need him to. 

SATAN

Satan knows he shouldn’t be awake, though he finds it difficult to satiate his curiosity as he peruses the books lining his shelves. He barely registers the sound of his D.D.D, reluctant to put the book aside to see who’s messaging him at this ungodly hour; Asmodeus most likely. His tune changes after he sees your name lighting up his screen, his annoyance replaced by worry. He knows you struggle, especially at night, but he can tell you’re hesitant to reach out. Nevertheless, you gradually begin to confide in him, his patience limitless if you’re concerned, and he feels a sense of relief that you choose to trust him at your most vulnerable instead of suffering on your own. Pouring over every book he can locate on anxiety, he studies it religiously, engraining each page into his memory. Not by giving unsolicited advice—he doesn’t want to make that mistake twice—but by comforting you the best he can, even if it simply means staying by your side, waiting for the panic to pass.

A second later, he appears at your door, gaze softening as your eyes meet. In the darkness of your room, he can tell how exhausted you are. You apologize for bothering him, particularly this late, but he dismisses you with a shake of his head and a reassuring smile, sitting beside you on the bed. It saddens him that you feel the need to, but he’s familiar enough with anxiety by now that he understands how much of a manipulative monster it truly is; if only he can destroy it with his own two hands, strangling the life out of it so it no longer taints that innocent soul of yours. To watch you struggle fills him with a rage that he forces deep within himself, fully aware anger isn’t the answer no matter how great his desire to protect you is. So, he cups your face in his hands, your skin warm beneath his fingers as he strokes your flushed cheeks and presses your foreheads together. 

Focus on him, he tells you, the steady rhythm of his breathing, and his voice while he whispers words of love and encouragement. He never tires of letting you know how beautiful and strong you are, that he’s always here for you and loves you—all of you. You unravel in his arms, opening your heart up to him, and he listens intently, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips the moment you look uncertain. You’re not a burden, he promises, hoping one day you’ll believe it yourself, but he’ll remind you every chance he gets; forever if he must. It’s worth it in the end when you relax against him and smile, kissing him in return. Slowly, the anxiety leaves your body, Satan grateful that the waves of panic have receded enough to let you rest your weary mind. He remains next to you, pulling you down to lay your head on his chest and closing your hand in his, entwining your fingers. He’s content here with you, watching you fall asleep and chasing away the nightmares.

ASMODEUS

Asmodeus loves shopping, but he loves shopping with you most of all. The day is bright with you by his side, and he can’t help but buy you clothes and matching accessories to bring out your inherent charm. Your potential is endless, and he gushes over how gorgeous you are, unable to contain his excitement when your eyes light up in return. He can hardly control himself around you, gaze fixated on your every movement and heart racing each time you flash him one of the sweetest smiles he’s ever seen; your very soul seeming to shine through and blind him. Nothing prepares him for the love he feels for you, but he considers it a welcome surprise, his desire to grow closer to you intensifying day after day. You captivate him, the Avatar of Lust of all demons. What an exciting turn of events!

Of course, he attracts attention wherever he goes, posing for pictures with adoring fans and basking in the compliments constantly thrown his way; nothing new, but he enjoys it, nonetheless. Who can resist the allure of his very presence? However, anger wells within him at the sight of you being shoved to the side, falling to the ground, and lost to the crowd that has gathered. Their words of flattery fall on deaf ears as he rushes to you, throwing a heated glance at the lowly demon who dared to touch his darling human. He desires nothing more than to punish them for such an injustice, but the fear in your eyes tells him otherwise. By the time he scoops you up into his arms you’re trembling from head to toe, and he can feel your heart pounding against him. A part of him places the blame on himself, an unfamiliar feeling, but he chooses to ignore it for now, focusing on getting you home in your worsening state.

In the peace and quiet of his room, he sits you on the bed, wrapping you in his arms as he affectionately runs his fingers through your hair. He can tell you’re upset—in an absolute state of panic by the looks of it—and all he can do is hold you through it, quietly asking what you need and willing to answer your every beck and call if it means that adorable smile graces your features once more. For a moment he considers seeking out Lucifer, worried something has gone terribly wrong, but thankfully you find your voice, mumbling into his chest about anxiety and panic attacks, that you’ll be fine—eventually—and are sorry for ruining your date. He doesn’t understand completely, though he knows you need him, promising to stay by your side for as long as you want. Kissing your cheek, he assures you there’s no need to apologize to him, your safety more important than anything else; the demon who laid his hands on you won’t go unpunished either.

Admitting a bath helps calm you down, he prepares one for you, steam rising from the surface and the heady scent of roses filling the air. Together you slip into the water, enveloped by its warmth, and he hums in contentment as you lean into him, his arms coming to rest around your waist. He watches you carefully, making sure you’re able to relax and preparing himself in case you call on him; he’ll do anything for you if it brings you the happiness you deserve. Your eyes flutter close, Asmodeus showering you with delicate kisses, comforted by the fact your breathing has leveled out and you appear a lot calmer than before. The day didn’t go as planned, and he hopes to make it up to you, vowing that no one else will hurt you on his watch. He loves himself, he loves his brothers, but loves you most of all.

BEELZEBUB

Beelzebub notices you haven’t touched your dinner and is beyond happy the moment you offer your plate to him. Yet he can’t bring himself to enjoy the food in front of him while you excuse yourself from the table, eyes downcast and voice quiet, the usual smile gone from your face and leaving behind an emptiness that rivals his own hunger. His mouth waters at the thought of seconds, but his concern for you grows, and he decides to follow you without question, disregarding the ravenous growl of his stomach. He catches you in the hallway, calling out your name. You turn to him, his brow furrowing in unease at the sight of your tears and the slight tremble of your lip. It hurts him to see you in obvious distress, and he earnestly offers his support.

The only sound is that of your sobbing. He desperately wishes to hold you tightly and rid you of your pain. However, he falters, studying you. Your gaze is trained on the floor, shoulders stiff with tension, and the color drains from your cheeks. When you speak, he’s surprised by how helpless you sound and the fact you’re trying to reassure him, putting his needs above your own although you’re struggling to hold yourself together. Fear flickers across your features at the echo of the brothers’ voices traveling down the hall, and he mumbles out an apology as he carefully lifts you into his arms, cradling you to his chest. 

Before the others can round the corner, he hurries around the corner and slips into your room, determined to protect his vulnerable human. He notices you relax against him, your fingers curling into his shirt, and he can’t help but want to keep you close, relieved after you lean in closer to wrap your arms around his neck. Stroking your hair, he allows you to cry, his patience and love for you endless. Eventually, you mutter an embarrassed apology, thanking him profusely, but he’s merely relieved you’re beginning to feel a bit better, reassuring you that you can always depend on him. 

Listening to you intently, he never breaks eye contact. You open up to him about your anxiety, his stomach twisting as you describe what you call a panic attack and how it wrecks you both mentally and physically. Beelzebub knows he has a lot to learn, but he expresses interest in understanding anxiety and, most importantly, how he can help you, so you don’t suffer alone. For the rest of the night, he keeps you company and eases you through the remainder of your attack, giving you plenty of hugs and rubbing your back in soothing circles until you no longer shake, and your heartbeat returns to its usual pace.

BELPHEGOR

Belphegor enjoys the time you spend together, especially when the two of you are alone. He asks you to accompany him in the attic, and it’s not long before he curls around you, falling into a peaceful sleep as he listens to the steady beat of your heart. However, when he awakes it’s to the sound of your soft cries in the dark, which fill him with a fear he can’t seem to shake. Without hesitation he’s at your side, sitting up to softly place a hand on your shoulder and ask you what’s wrong. The sadness in your eyes as you glance up at him, tears staining your cheeks, tugs at his heartstrings. He can’t bear to see you upset.

Once he realizes you’re having a panic attack, he’s attentive to your needs, cradling you in his arms as you cry into his chest. You confided in him about your struggles with anxiety after you fell to pieces in front of him months ago. A part of him understands, the loss of Lilith haunting him throughout the years and instilling a similar feeling of unease within him, especially when his nightmares seem to blur the line between reality and the painful memories of his past. You always came to his rescue and now it’s his turn to comfort you in your time of need. Sleep can wait.

With you in his embrace, he brings you down to relax against the pillows, pulling the blanket around your shivering form. You rest your head on his shoulder, and he gently brushes the remaining tears from your face, whispering words of love and reassurance. He listens to you when you’re comfortable enough to talk, the slight tremble of your voice causing him to draw you closer and press a kiss to your forehead. Belphegor tells you he’s here for you—forever—and although he’s still learning about anxiety and finding the best ways to comfort you during an attack, he wants you to depend on him no matter what; even if that means you wake him up in the middle of the night. He won’t rest until he knows you’re okay, and you’re peacefully sleeping in his arms.

#obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #lucifer #mammon #leviathan #satan #asmodeus #beelzebub #belphegor #obey me x reader #obey me x you #obey me x mc #reader insert #noelle writes

[madamecalypso]

So I decided to make this a series named "The deer 🦌 and the Crow 🐦‍⬛"

I already have a plot in mind to be honest but most will just be memories with Alastor versus the present for now.

So without further ado here's part 2....

Vulnerability

You hated this time of the year. You could even say you despise it to be honest. Being a sinner with wings has its disadvantages.

And one of them is...molting. But you thank Lucifer for its clockwork arrival, always weeks before the annual extermination. Due to this, you always hide by yourself to ensure that everything will go well and your co-residents will not worry. You hate making them worry as this usually brings unwanted memories to the surface.

You gently spread out your ebony wings as you made a nest in the middle of the grand room. The lights outside shinning on you. You sigh sadly as you motion for your right wing closer to you and start plucking the old and detached feathers.

This marks the first year that he went and left you. The first year that the Radio Demon vanished from Pentagram city without a trace. The first year when he was not here to help you.

You remembered the first time he helped you, you were so shy to let Alastor touch your wings. Yet he insisted after berating you for not sharing this need after the years of your friendship.

"A service worthy to ensure your perfection mon corbeau....you really should let me service you sometimes"

As he worked on your wings he would often tell what he was when alive but never the cause of his death. He oftentimes would share the story Rosie spoke to him, how nifty is doing nowadays or how Husk got irritated with one of his demands.

You would listen to his stories with no distractions. Absorbing everything like a sponge. You love hearing him speak and you never tire hearing it. His voice was really made for radio. Without the usual filter he uses, you can hear the raw and true voice of Alastor. The one he reserved just for you.

You also remembered that this may also be the day that you realized that you are falling in love with the Radio Demon.

His touch was always soft when it comes to your wings, quite different on how he handled other sinners or Overlords whenever he brought carnage. You would always smile whenever he meticulously checked each feather to ensure their integrity. There are times that he would also slap your hand away whenever you try to help.

"You are so good with this Al....I hope you will always do this for me every year"

You whispered one day thinking he would not hear. But he did as his smile widened.

"Mon corbeau...this is nothing I would be willing to do to keep you beside me"

You also remember the kiss. The kiss on your forehead he always leaves when he's done. The same kiss that evokes emotions and longing for him. The same kiss that you often wish he would leave on your lips instead. The gentle gesture he would leave after everything was said and done.

But everything is just a memory now. He's no longer here. He left you alone. His promises are broken. His words are now merely an echo.

You are starting to understand that you became dependent with him from the years you were together. The pain of him leaving is still fresh on you. He was the one who saved you after all, the one who guided you for all those years. The one who you thought would never leave.

You still have the note he left. The note has become a symbol of your broken devotion. You clutch the note every time your heart aches. Every time you miss Alastor’s presence. Every time you miss his voice, his teasing, his playful words, the gentle kindness he offers but has hidden it's lies and deceit.

As your tears start to fall, your mind starts to wander once more why he left you. Till now everyone was surprised by his disappearance.

"Querida por qué lloras? You know I hate tears in those beautiful eyes"

You immediately wiped your tears as you looked behind you. It was Valentino with a worried expression on his face, one that you don't often see. His sleek masculine form dressed in an overflowing red coat started walking towards you after seeing the fallen feathers.

"Val..I told you to not come here" you muttered annoyed but the moth demon only walked closer and sat beside you.

"Vox and Velvette are worried about you birdie...and they know that you would only hide from them." Valentino lit his cigarette catching a drag, red smoke blows from his mouth before offering it to you, which you gently took.

"It's time for my feathers to shed and I needed space to think as well" You answered as your tears fell again, annoyance with him gone.

Pink eyes started to narrow on your form as he wrapped his arms around you. "You should know that you're no longer alone amorcita, we are here. Vox would lose a circuit if he found you like this"

"I'm glad that Vox cared for me after he left, I thought he was just enduring my presence before. And Velvette's addition still brings happiness to me but sometimes I think I'm just slowing you guys" You sadly spoke as you looked at Valentino.

"That's where you're wrong dearest..how many times must I prove it to you?" A third and familiar voice spoke behind you. Vox having entered the room walked closer to also sit on your other side.

"You may have lost that pompous ass but you gained us..someone far superior, someone who would never leave you" he boasted which caused you and Valentino to roll your eyes. "You don't slow us dearest...you empower us. We just need to build the confidence that you had before"

"But Voxxy is right amor, so dry your eyes...a gem like you should never cry"

You gently smiled and you nodded before Valentino kissed your left cheek and started to move behind you to look at your wings. "From now on we will be the one to care for you"

Vox on the other hand touches your face as he leans for a kiss. Each kiss he brings is always a new sensation to you. He's soft and sensual which makes your heart flutter. He gently broke the kiss for a quick second as a wide grin stretches on his face before he leans in again. His talon-like fingers gently slide down the side of your face to your neck.

You don't know what kind of relationship you all have, but they are willing to provide the care that you yearn for. The affection that you once wished was given by Alastor.

Valentino on the other hand was busy attending to your wings with a mischievous smile on his face.

The Vees will build an empire that's for sure. They will spread their power and authority and change the status quo. They will do all of that and more since that's what you deserve.

He anticipates how you would grow with them beside you. You are already an enigma while still under the servitude for the Radio Demon. Now that you're a free bird, you'll transform. He couldn't wait to see you flourish, their dearest gem... a valuable creature tossed away by her master.

And whoever will try to take you away will die by their hands.

Can't wait to expand this story. Gosh, I don't even know how to use Tumblr.

But I'll learn one step at a time.

Will post what the reader looks like soon...

Kisses darling!..

#alastor x oc #alastor x reader #alastor #hazbin hotel #vox x reader #hasbin alastor #hazbin hotel vox #valentino #im not sorry #im not crying you are #Spotify

[shadowseductress]

《Wandering Hearts》

Part-IV

Varsha

The intensity of his stare, his unruly curls framing his face, one hand pressing against the door while the other pins mine above my head, his body inches from mine, and his words tinged with alcohol – it all makes me want to simultaneously admire and loathe him for being absurdly attractive and irresistibly alluring, leaving me with nothing but the fact that "The moon's outside." Yet, he counters smoothly, "It's right here," cupping my face in his hands, and softly declares, "All mine."

"Ah, Vivan," I exhale softly. Vivan's touch trails along my lips, his thumb leaving a tingling sensation. "I love hearing my name from your lips," he murmurs, his eyes smoldering with desire. "I ache to hear you moan my name with pleasure, those tempting pink lips of yours." His touch is both gentle and commanding, leaving me yearning for more, even as I retort, "Oh, spare me," I retort, my tone laced with irritation. "I can't stand the sound of your name, and it's frustrating that you seem to despise me for no reason." Vivan's grip tightens slightly as he speaks, directing my gaze towards him. "Rhea, I've been drawn to you since the moment I first saw you," he confesses, his voice tinged with longing. "But your hostility twists my concern into something resembling hatred." His words, coupled with his touch, stir emotions within me that I struggle to comprehend. "You always picked fights, never letting me spend time with my friends," I accuse, my frustration evident. "Yet we always ended up partnered in every project, leaving me to bear the workload because you never cared enough." Vivan's hand trails down to my neck as he sighs, his gaze intense. "Oh Rhea, those people aren't your friends," he insists, his voice gentle yet firm. "They merely use you for your kindness, your helpfulness, and, of course, your beauty." His admission catches me off guard, and I retaliate, "But you made me feel so isolated, so lonely on campus that I sought solace in the library." As my words hit him, he withdraws his hand, leaving me yearning for its warmth. "Rhea, I'm sorry," he murmurs, remorse evident in his tone. "I sensed your hatred, yet I remained by your side, I stayed in the library, hoping to bring you coffee or snacks whenever you seemed tired. But I was afraid you'd notice me following you and stop coming altogether, so I watched from afar. Do you still hate me?"

He did all that for me, unnoticed. His confession overwhelms me, and I struggle to respond. As I grapple with his words, I find myself focusing solely on him, my every thought consumed by his presence. Standing on tiptoe, I press my lips against his, the intensity of my feelings reflected in my words. "I hate you," I whisper, my breath mingling with his. "I hate you so much that sometimes I can't think of anything else."

#varsha #spilled writing #spilled ink #wandering hearts #dark romanticism #dark romance #short story #dark academia #dark academia couples #writers on tumblr

[myfandomprompts]

𝐀𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 | 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐖𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐀𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐌𝐞 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟕

Warning: Slight explicitness Masterlist (Part 6 - Part 8)

Summary: You find your old habits in the Red Keep, although war times are making your life quite difficult as Aemond possesses the most fire power.

A/N: This story will be spoiler free of the Dance for now on, as I have not read the books.

You woke up with the news. Aemond and Aegon were to fly off to war within the day, to join the army that had been sent in advance to the Riverlands where the Black Queen tried to surround the Crownlands.

So you were up early, having dressed up alone and your feet leading you to the training grounds, an old habit you had while growing up in King's Landing. You would always venture to where Aemond was at the time, eager to see him spar, excelling at him as he grew stronger and fiercer. It had been a pleasure of yours once. 

And today did not disappoint.

At last you saw him, and this for the first time since your arrival from Storm's End, his silver hair flowing around him as he swung his sword at three men he kept yelling at, evidently very upset. You wondered what made him so angry as you watched him strike blow after blow, a way of externalising his anger, you thought. But seeing him like this, chest heaving as he got the upper hand on his opponents, was enticing, and you couldn't help but think about the night you spent with him at Storm’s End.

Since this night, your sleeps have been restless, overcome by dreams of his touch, the sensations he gave your skin, and by the way he made you see stars, only to wake up in your bed alone and feel empty again. You realised that you missed his presence dearly. During those sleepless nights, you had even tried to reproduce what he so easily managed to do to you back in the stormy chambers, but it wasn't enough. He was. So you grew more frustrated as the days passed, unable to focus on a mere task. And now he was there.

From your position on the balcony above the training ground, you thought yourself far enough not to draw attention to you, but you ended up being quite wrong.

Aemond, like attracted to something he couldn't see, had raised his gaze up toward you and froze on the spot for a while, giving one of his opponent’s the opportunity to strike. Aemond managed to block the blow swiftly at the last moment and send the man on the ground with a grunt.

You swallowed nervously as you now saw him throw his sword away and take great strides toward you, locking his eye with yours as he reached the stairs. Seconds after that, he was facing you, his gaze so murderous that you felt forced to take a few steps back. 

He came very close to your body as murmurs started to rise from the fighting pit at the Prince's sudden departure. Now inches from you, his wide eye frantically searching yours, your throat felt dry, unable to say a single word.

"I've been looking for you, my Lady. Sent for you. But no responses," he said, tone dangerously low. "Do you find it funny in some way? Hiding from me like you did?"

You found this unfair. Not being able to see him was not entirely your fault, as you did go to your usual places around the castle, without mentioning your father's refusal and the fact that Aemond was rather busy in meetings and war preparation. But you were certainly not ready to say that to him, as his body currently screamed for violence, his breathing still heavy from his fight.

"I did not know where to find you, my Prince," you lied. "And no urgency led me to seek an audience with you of late," you managed to say without a flicker in your voice.

This was less of a lie, but you couldn't exactly reveal that you were aching for his presence every single day you walked on this earth. And most concerningly, every single night.

Aemond inhaled sharply at your answer. It was like you had slapped him, and you had no choice but to stand your ground as he took a step closer.

"And what of my urgency? Are you telling me that you are indifferent to it?" he whispered, his breath on your cheek.

Flashes of him between your parted legs and your own failed attempts during your lonely nights came through your mind and you closed your eyes briefly to chase the image. He didn't miss the shiver that roamed your entire body and when you opened your eyes again, you saw his devilish grin appear.

"Ah... Here we are," he said mischievously, and you were sure that something in your eyes shifted, the sign of both your shame and desire.

You sensed a presence near you and you remembered that you were not alone. Two nobles had walked past you on the balcony, glaring at the both of you. Aemond seemed to remember himself as well as he reluctantly put distance between you, waited for them to disappear and gently pushed at your waist.

"Walk with me," he commanded, looking around at the crowd below in the training ground as if he desired nothing but to annihilate all of them.

So you followed, walking side by side at a respectful distance until you reached the gardens at the seaside. The walk was silent, Aemond looking straight ahead, tensed, and you felt compelled to talk, at least to ease the evident tension.

"I've visited Helaena recently, and the children," you announced. "They grew up fast, I even found them to be looking up to their father as they demanded his attention quite sweetly."

At this moment you thought about telling him the reasons you had left all of these months ago to Dragonstone, on false pretences, that now you believed him. You wanted to apologise about not trusting him, in not thinking the twins weren't his, and that it was why you had abandoned him. But you found it unwise at the moment, watching his jaw clench at the mention of Aegon.

"Am I to understand that you saw my brother of late?" he asked.

"Yes I did," you replied, happy to make him say something, anything. "He even showed interest in my stay in the Storm's Lands."

You didn't know why you would say that to him but it seemed to have an unexpected effect.

"I don't want you to be near Aegon again," he deadpanned.

"I beg your pardon? I can't possibly promise you th-"

"Since he became King, he tends to be rather discourteous and forgets himself easily. Even more so than before. It would be unfortunate if I was to be labelled a Kingslayer as well as a Kinslayer."

At this moment you understood that he had chosen to own it. The death of Lucerys. Even though you knew of the guilt he had confessed to you at Storm’s End, here in King's Landing, this incident was viewed as the inevitable consequences of Aemond's short temper and cause of the ongoing conflict. The realisation made you pity him. You never imagined how much Aemond was concealing to the court, to his family.

But for the moment, you sent frantic looks around you, concerned at anyone who could have heard him.

"Aemond! Don't say things like that!" you scolded, glancing around as you entered a more secluded area, and you were surprised to discover an amused look on his face, apparently finding your panicked state quite funny.

"Always so careful," his smile grew wider as he pulled you further into the ivy-covered ruins you were in and before you knew it, his lips had crashed on yours, one hand cupping your cheek and the other on your waist, the kiss surprisingly soft considering the many moods he demonstrated since he left the training grounds.

You put your hands on his chest as you gasped for air, looking up at him.

"We shouldn't do that... Not right before you are to leave me, flying straight into battle." You gave him a desperate look. He only sighed and started to play with your necklace.

"It'll only be for several hours," he told you. "Vhagar is the mightiest dragon there is, I will be back before you know it."

"But I'll still worry. This is only the beginning and none of us has seen war yet. So many things can go wrong and I cannot stand the thought of you not coming back," you admitted, unsure of why you were so honest at this moment. You felt one of his fingers graze your cheek.

"Then trust me. Have faith in Vhagar, have faith in me," he said with watchful eyes. "No harm will come to me as I promised no harm will come to you."

You nodded weakly, wanting so dearly to believe him as he put his forehead against yours softly.

"And I find your worry rather appealing my Lady," he continued, amusement filling his voice again. "Is it that you are so enthralled with me that you don't want me to leave your side?" he said jokingly, but you didn't enjoy it as much as him, images of Cassandra flashing through your mind, the woman that ought to be at his side one day.

"Do not jest about that Aemond please," you answered, but he was half listening, taking hold of your hips and bringing you closer in a swift movement.

"And as for this..." he said before pulling you into a kiss once more, his hand taking hold of your chin softly. "I would do it at any moment, even if I'm flying into battle, as you put it."

His confidence made you forget the thought of Cassandra and you were soon lost in his gaze, the lilac of his eye casting a sort of longing you’ve never seen in Aemond before. But the moment passed as he kissed your forehead in goodbyes and turned away, watching him leave the gardens, believing that it was not, indeed, the last time you saw him.

You spent the afternoon between the library and your father's office, until you decided that you should do something about the stress your body was suffering from. Vhagar and Sunfyre had gone since noon, and dread was now your constant companion. So you decided to visit someone who would share your anguish, and went to Helaena's.

On your way there, you heard muffled crying coming from another corridor. Following the noise, you found a boy, no more than ten years of age, crouching on the floor, head in his hand, hiccups escaping him as he cried.

"There my child, why are you crying?" you said as you extended your hand to his shoulder tenderly, making him look up at you.

"It's- my doll," he stuttered through sobs. "Another boy hid it because he thought it was funny, and when I went to look for it I-, I got lost."

"What is your name?" you asked, smiling sweetly at him. He reminded you of your brother, even if he seemed much younger than him.

"Hugo," he replied. "I am Hugo Vance of Atranta."

"Well Hugo, do not worry, I've lived here most of my life and I know my way around better than the maids. We will find your doll and you'll be returning to your family in no time, agreed?"

Your warm smile seems to soothe him as he looked at you like you were the saviour he was looking for. He nodded, stood up and took your hand as you led him through a well-known hiding place where you used to hide Aegon's belongings with Aemond when he was insufferable to him as a child. You were sure that the hiding spot was still quite popular among the next generation.

And you were right. The doll was found and Hugo, in his happiness, talked all the way to the guest wing where he resided. He thanked you and gave you a warm goodbye before disappearing.

Thanks to him, you had managed to take Aemond off your mind, but it came back quickly as you walked towards the Queen's apartments once again, only to find them quite crowded.

Helaena welcomed you warmly, happy to see you, while intendants and maids were faring around the room, the twins playing with the nurses on the ground. You went to sit next to your friend to greet her, only then noticing the Dowager Queen, Alicent Hightower, looking out of the window, clearly anxious and waiting for her sons to return. You tried not to acknowledge her as the intendants kept bothering her with matters you had no interest in, staying near Helaena the whole time and attempting to escape the uneasiness you both felt considering the circumstances. It worked quite well until you felt the presence of the older Queen coming to sit across from you.

During your childhood, Queen Alicent seemed quite happy with the friendship you had with her children, surely content that they were spending time with others rather than with Rhaenyra's children. But it has been years since she smiled at you, her newly found religious faith and duties making her more and more distant. And now you felt troubled as she gave you side glances that you found it difficult to ignore.

"Do you pray, Lady Y/N?" she asked you, surprisingly taking interest in you.

"I do your Grace. Especially now," you answered simply.

"It is a hard time indeed, my sons are out there fighting, and all that we women can do is pray for their safe return and hope that what we have accomplished is enough," she said religiously. "Is it not quite unfair to be limited by our position when we surely could do much more?"

You nodded, rather agreeing with her, but staying silent before the Queen's strong gaze, however, until an intendant came and requested her attention.

"Your Grace, we have received the list of items requested by Lord Baratheon, regarding the wedding of his daughter to Prince Aemond." he said, presenting a piece of parchment. "You are asked to review it before we may begin preparation soon."

Alicent sighed and took the paper, but you didn't miss the way she glanced at you, analysing your reaction. You let nothing appear as your heart began to beat faster in your chest.

Soon, Aemond will be married to a pretty black-haired girl, and there was nothing you could do about it, more than you already had against your own accord in fact. The thought made you so infuriated that at this moment you feared the Queen would see, but nothing happened.

You wondered if she had got wind of the rumours that emanated from Storm's Land about you and her son, if she believed them. But you said nothing else of all of the afternoon, avoiding the Queen's gaze before retiring to your chambers for the night, more lost at your feelings than you thought you would ever be.

Whatever feelings you were harbouring for him, for the man who would soon marry to a woman who will give him sons, they were meaningless. You would not stand to be the girl who was infatuated with a married man, to your childhood friend, you owed it to the realm. However, the pain you felt in your heart at the realisation told you that you were incapable to suppress those feelings any more, you were in too deep, years of affections now shifting into more and hitting you like waves. Escaping, like you did all of those months ago with Dragonstone, would not work. Nothing would work. So you were doomed to suffer in silence, and keep your head high as you would watch him being pulled away from you.

It was the next day, after an agitated night filled with dreams of Aemond falling in battle that you learned of his return.

You were having tea with other ladies of the court when your father entered and informed you of the dragons' return. You stood up immediately in relief and excitement but the tensed feature of your lord father made you stop: Aegon had been injured, and was now under the close care of his family and the maesters. It appeared that the Greens' army had been victorious, however, but all that mattered to you is the relief you felt at their return.

But you didn't see Aemond for another whole day, only hearing rumours of Aegon being out of danger as he slowly recovered, but you grew more frustrated as no new information reached you. You didn't even have the details of his predicament, only that he could not make any public appearances of yet.

Another day passed, and you became more upset, unable to admit to yourself why. Aemond surely was not prevented from making public appearances, and yet he was nowhere to be seen.

One night you saw Vhagar flying around the castle briefly and disappearing behind a cliff along the coast. You wondered if Aemond was with her at that moment. It didn't soothe you in the slightest.

On the third day, you heard that a feast was to be held, in honour of the recent victory in the Riverlands and to the renewed health of the King. You were apprehensive for the festivities to take place.

"If I may, my Lady!"

You were on your way to the Weirwood Tree when you heard someone call you. When you turned you saw a young man walking toward you, tall, black-haired and green-eyed. He was easy on the eyes, you thought as he levelled with you in the corridor.

"My name is Addam, Addam Vance," he said as he bowed slightly. "I am glad to finally meet you, as I heard much about you. I believe you have met my brother."

You stayed silent, taken aback by the sudden encounter.

"Hugo," he continued as you said nothing. "You helped him find his doll?" he smiled.

"Oh yes! My apologies." You now saw the resemblance between the two brothers and were relieved that the one before you did not take your silence as ill-mannered. "He is a sweet boy, I could not have let him in this state," you assured warmly.

"Of course, I did not doubt your kind character when he told me that "a beautiful nice maiden" had helped him during my absence," he said with a grin. You felt your cheeks warm up a little at that. He kept on.

"My apologies but, even as I know of your virtues, I do not know your name," he said kindly.

"Oh, I am Y/N, Y/N of House Lydden," you bowed gracefully as you introduced yourself, and he stared at you, not missing a beat of your movement. When you straightened up again, you were curious.

"You said you were absent. Were you in the Riverlands perhaps?" you asked, titling your head to the side.

"I was, my Lady. My father in his loyalty and that of my House, came to fight for the King, and so did I. We've only just returned this morning after days of march."

"By the gods you must be exhausted!' you exclaimed. "I am glad you returned unharmed, my Lord. I'm sure you are looking forward to the victory feast tomorrow as well."

"It will be rewarding for sure, but only a brief distraction, as the war is not over unfortunately. I fear that all of this could have been avoided, but here we are, our only solace is in hoping that all that bloodshed will soon be over." He stated wisely. You smiled, agreeing with him, impressed by his maturity.

Seconds passed where neither of you spoke, only gazing at each other before Addam eventually broke the silence.

"I will leave you be my Lady, as I do not wish to keep you with boring stories of war," he shyly laughed as he took your hand and kissed the back of it. "But I hope to cross your path again soon."

And he left. You did not know what it was, but there was a shift in the atmosphere you did not notice until he was gone. You breathed and resumed your walk, thinking about House Vance.

Aemond finally landed, Vhagar roaring under him as she lowered her wings on the ground.

It has been days since the battle in the Riverlands and yet he did not have a moment of peace. Upon his return and due to Aegon's injury, it was decided that watching the ship movements between the Gullet and King's Landing was of the utmost importance. And because he was the only one able to fly now, he had been sent above the Bay, surveilling the waters and soaring through the sky. The few times he was back in the Red Keep, it was only for his mother to drown him under matters he did not care about, her worried state always growing more and more now that Aegon was injured. As much as he liked his mother and the war councils, he wished that he could all send them to hell and do as he liked, as he was the only one that could, in his mind, do what it takes to win this war, the only one capable.

But Aemond understood the meaning of duty, and like his mother, understood that he was to do his best to protect his family and the realm.

 So he indulged them, even agreeing to this ridiculous marriage arrangement. If ever the Baratheons were stupid enough to stand along the side the Blacks, Aemond would have burned Storm's End right away, and be done with it. But it was not the way his family planned things. Instead he would wed, in exchange for loyalty. If there was one thing Aemond was familiar with, it was sacrifice, having experienced it first hand when he was ten. But as more time passed, the more he told himself that this marriage was the last thing he wanted. 

Because it would mean that he could not have you completely.

-0- Part 8

@let-love-bleeds-red @crazylokonugget @jeyramarie @ephemeralninon @mrswhitethornbelikov @dudfahsn @missusnora @queenofterrasen418 @honeytrapsblogp-graham @heathclifftragedyy @discowizard88 @ivartheblessed @xceafh @bubbletae7 @omgkatherine97 @tzipora-art @signyvenetia

#saemond x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond kinslayer #aemond x oc #aemond x female original character #aemond x original character #aemond x you #house targaryen #hotd #house of the dragon #aemond #vhagar #possessive behaviour #ywawm

[hisui-dreamer]

embers of love's flames

Pairing: Jade Leech x gn!reader

Synopsis: His love burned for you, but you never wavered in yours.

Tags: fluff, slight yandere jade, reader has hair, bot proofread

Word count: 784

Notes: jade brainrot overtook me during shower thoughts ahaha. This fic was largely inspired by Shinunoga E-Wa by Fujii Kaze (⁠~⁠‾⁠▿⁠‾⁠)⁠~

Floyd's sister fic here ✧ Masterlist

The dark room flickered to life as candlelight danced across the walls, casting a warm and golden glow that seemed to defy the darkness. It was a sanctuary of shadows and light, where time seemed to stand still, and the outside world faded into insignificance. Jade was lying in the cocoon of your duvet, with you sound asleep in his arms.

He was in love, completely and irrevocably.

The mere thought of being without you was like a starless night, a vast expanse of darkness stretching endlessly. It was as if the sun had vanished from the sky, leaving behind a void that chilled him to the bone. Your warmth against his skin was his lifeline, a flame that kept him alive in the midst of the cold and desolation.

The once emotionless and methodical thinker was consumed by an overwhelming love that he was powerless to resist. He could do nothing but yield to this love, to devote himself entirely to you, body, mind and soul.

Your presence was a symphony of sensations, a melody that played in his heart with each beat. The touch of your skin against his reminded him of the fireworks he watched when he snuck to the surface, magnificent flowers of flames igniting sparks of longing and desire that set his soul ablaze. Your soft breathing was a lullaby that soothed his restless soul, a rhythm that lulled him into a sense of peace and contentment.

Your absence left an ache in his chest that was intolerable, and he couldn't imagine his life without them. He found himself willing to sacrifice anything and everything for your love; he would be willing to give up all of his meals of the day just to never be apart from you again. Indeed, the hunger would gnaw at his stomach, but he believed you would be nothing compared to the hunger he felt for you. Your love had become a hunger that consumed him, a thirst that could only be quenched by your presence.

Like a wildfire, burning passionately and uncontrollably, it devoured everything in its path as his heart engulfed in flames of ardent desire. It was as if you were the only source of warmth, and he would fiercely guard this fire, never letting it dim or falter, and would do anything to keep it burning forever.

He couldn’t help but become possessive over you, unable to the thought of anyone else coming between you and him, of anyone else laying claim to the heart that he held so dearly. He yearned to always be near you, to have your undivided attention, and to ensure that you were exclusively his. His love was a tightly wound rope that wouldn't let go, constantly pulling and tugging. Perhaps it was his predatory instincts, but he couldn't help but hold on to you with a vice-like grip, afraid that if he let you loose for even a second you might slip away from his grasp and never return. He craved to wrap you in his embrace forever, to keep you close to him, and to make you feel loved and cherished every single second.

“Mmmh…” you mumbled in your sleep as you reached out for him, breaking him out of his train of thought.

He sighed fondly, lifting his hand out of the warm blanket to brush your hair out of your face. Despite all his faults, you never feared him, not even at his worst. Instead of dread, you embraced his quirks, his possessiveness, his violent tendencies, his obsession with mushrooms, all as a part of who he was. You didn't shy away from his intense love, but rather reciprocated it with equal fervour, revelling in the depth of your connection.

Gazing at your sleeping form, he was filled with a sense of awe and wonder. How could he have been so fortunate to have you in his life? You had become his all, and he would cherish and adore you with all his everything, for you had captured his soul in a love that was both profound and irreplaceable. The thought of being without you was unbearable, like a world without light, a symphony without harmony, a life without meaning.

“Goodnight, my love,” he whispered, before pressing his lips against your forehead with a feather-light touch, savouring the moment as if it were a fragile, precious jewel. “I wish you the sweetest dreams.”

He was willing to change, to be better, and to show you the love and care you deserved. He wanted to be the one who would give you the most everlasting love of all, and he was willing to do whatever it took to make that happen.

Floyd's sister fic here ✧ Masterlist

if you liked this post, don't forget to reblog!

#twstnexus #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland jade #twisted wonderland jade leech #jade leech #jade leech x reader

[moonlit-midnight]

Ocean Dreams and Serene Waves | Part 1

Characters: Jade Leech.

Genre: Platonic Fluff, Friendship, Angst.

Summary: Like the sea waves find the shoreline, you found each other. 

Warnings: 

GN!Reader. Mention of memory loss due to an accident.

This will be 2 parts. I’m struggling to think of a proper ending.

—

For as long as Jade Leech could remember, his childhood best friend was a sickly person, often in and out of the hospital. 

Despite your condition, you didn’t let it stop you from living your best life.

You were full of life, and charmingly bright like the breathtaking shy breath of the warm sun. 

You were energetic and always brimming with excitement, not caring what form it took as long as it made your heart beat.

Every time you got discharged, Jade would eagerly wait for you by the beach nearby your family’s summerhouse where you first met, arms stretched out like wings to welcome you in his embrace.

You would excitedly run to him, giving him the tightest hugs.

Peals of soft laughter would spill out of his lips when both of you fall backwards into the sandy ground.

Your strong hold on him was a reassurance that you were here with him, breathing and truly alive.

Jade’s head rested on your lap. You were sitting close to the shore, watching the gentle waves touching your feet while your best friend was admiring the glorious rising of the sun.

“Hey Jade, how are you holding up when I’m not around? I bet you feel lonely.” you said in a teasing tone, sun-lit eyes peering down at the young merman.

“Lonely? Not at all. I have my brother to keep me company.” He glanced at you, sharp teeth bared in a playful grin.

“Rascal.” you tousled his teal hair causing him to laugh. “Can you sit for a moment? I have something for you.”

Jade sat up instantly, curiously eyeing the item you fished out from your pocket. In your palm sat a silver necklace paired with a star shaped aquamarine pendant, the gemstone he grew fond of because it was your favorite.

Leaning closer, you cautiously placed it around his neck.

“My mom helped me make this. So you can always have me around.”

“I love it.” He whispered in awe, toying with the pendant. “Thank you. I promise I’ll treasure this beautiful gift.”

You hummed and smiled in return.

“We'll always have each other, won’t we, Jade?”

“Yes, always.”

★ —

Ever since you started your life at NRC, you often woke up from a dream of someone holding you under the deep blue sea.

Was it a real memory or merely a whimsical dream, you weren’t sure.

Despite the dreams being vivid, the stranger’s face always appeared blurred.

The only distinct feature you could glimpse was his piercing heterochromic eyes which was shockingly similar to Jade Leech, the vice housewarden of your dorm.

“Are you feeling unwell?” Jade brushed a thumb over your tear-streaked face.

You shivered at the contact. It was a light touch which felt strangely familiar. 

“God, I don’t know why I am crying, but I’m okay.” you stuttered, wiping your tears with the sleeve of your hoodie. “It’s just, I think I came here a lot with someone dear to me. I feel that I was so happy here, but I can’t remember it.”

It was a weekend, late at night when Jade took you to the seaside to unwind after he noticed how distressed you’ve been lately. It was the same beach that you used to go to together once upon a time.

It was a calm night as the two of you walked quietly along the shore. 

Your attention shifted from the merman beside you to the shining sea water, the starlit sky reflected dazzlingly on the surface.

Your tears came so suddenly because everything felt familiar. The peaceful place, the pleasant atmosphere and Jade’s soothing presence.

It made your heart ache.

You were sure that you experienced this feeling over and over in the past.

However, no matter how hard you tried picturing them in your mind, the images always appeared hazy and out of reach like a faded dream.

#🌸hannah’s musings #twst #twisted wonderland #jade leech #jade leech x reader #twst x jade #twst jade leech #jade leech fluff #twst fluff #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst writing #twst imagines #twst scenarios #twst fanfic #twst fanfiction #jade x reader #disney twst #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland fanfic

[mostlysignssomeportents]

RIP, Roger Wood, genius assemblage sculptor

Last week, my dear old friend Roger Wood died, very suddenly, of cancer. He was 80. Roger was a brilliant sculptor, a Canadian veteran navy gunner, and gay. He was my neighbour for a decade. I miss him already.

Roger and I both lived in an old WWI munitions factory in Toronto, which had been turned into 15 illegal live-work studios with 20-foot ceilings which leaked, massive south-facing windows (which leaked), and a warm and collegial vibe of weirdos and artists.

Roger was a self-taught sculptor, a mad collector of all sorts of junk: scrap metal, old toys, discarded electronics, decorative items. He tore these apart, painted and mutated them, and turned them into whimsical assemblages.

Many of these were built around clocks; often with a small feather attached to the second-hand that quivered as it revolved around and around the clockface. Roger was making things that could be called “steampunk” before the term existed — and once he learned it, he embraced it.

In those years, I was working very long hours on the early web, but I was often and easily sidetracked at Roger’s studio, where I’d sit and smoke cigarettes with him and hear navy stories (his time with the big guns had left him somewhat deaf) or just tour his beautiful new pieces.

Roger, too, had an incredible work ethic. He told the Toronto Star’s Barbara Turnbull, “Even on Sunday mornings, when good citizens are off to church, I’m off to the local flea market, always scrounging different bits and pieces.”

https://www.thestar.com/life/2007/10/13/timepieces_of_art.html

And he was content: “But I survive, so why complain? I think mere survival as an artist in Canada propels me into the top 10 per cent of the ranks in this country.”

Turnbull really captured Roger’s studio when she wrote: “But it’s the overwhelming number of storage containers, loosely labelled and filled with the items he uses for his fanciful designs that makes the jaw drop: picture lamp bulbs, lamp parts, wooden balls, drawer pulls, buttons, clock springs, gears and faces, dials, jewellery, candlesticks, shoemaker moulds, picture frames, musical instrument parts, vacuum tubes from old radios, gas lamp parts, typewriter keys, bottle caps, old gauges, camera lenses and nameplates.”

Roger loaned me dozens of his largest, most impressive pieces for my wedding, where he was resplendent in a hall that was filled with his sculptures. I was living in the UK at the time, and shortly after, high Toronto rents pushed Roger out of the city and to Hamilton. I saw him again a few years later when he came to an event of mine in Hamilton and we had dinner.

But then he moved back east, to Nova Scotia, where, he emailed me, he built the studio he’d always dreamt of. I didn’t see him after that, though we corresponded some. Mostly, I felt in touch with Roger because I’ve got so many of his sculptures in my home, including the diptych he gave us as a wedding gift.

Knowing Roger is gone has left an ache in my heart. He deserved to be so much better known, and better treated by the cities he graced with his art and his presence. He was a sweet, kind, talented, funny man and it showed in his art.

In Roger’s obituary in the Globe and Mail, his family says, “Donations to the Charity of Your Choice or support an artist, buy an original piece of art.” Support the artists in your life, folks, and cherish them. Goodbye, Roger. I was very lucky to count you a friend.

Here are some of my photos of Roger, his studio and his work:

https://www.flickr.com/search/?user_id=37996580417%40N01&sort=date-taken-desc&text=klockwerks&view_all=1

#pluralistic

[gay4tiddies]

Painted Hearts

Part 5

This is part four of a Jinx x female reader series, in which the reader ends up in the Arcane universe and winds up getting involved with the plot. Starting just around where series main plot begins

It often feels like a person cheats time in the hours between closing one’s eyes and opening them come morning. This void of space can be filled with dreams, some of which you may or may not recall, some of which may have been reoccurring since you were young enough to recall them. Dreams can be joyfully lucid, crushingly depressing, often times they exist as a vault of unexpressed, unpredictable, and unprecedented emotions.

Today your dream was foggy, vision distorted as you’re stumbling down a seemingly endless tunnel. There’s a figure ahead, you can’t imagine their identity, but you cannot help but chase after them.

Luminous, vivid blue was a colour that you saw only at night, hidden under the lids of your eyes. A stark, bare colour that seemingly filled you with only the most overwhelming emotions. You always remember these dreams - whether your entire dream was stained monochrome blue or even if you catch but a mere flicker of the captivating colour. You’d always awaken, heart racing, gripped with frustration as you fail, continuously, to envision that unmistakeable forget-me-not blue.

Perhaps it was for this reason that you chase the figure so desperately, the familiar braids flowing behind her, dancing almost tauntingly at the very tips of your outstretched fingers.

Only when your hands clasp empty air does she finally still. You could have sworn she spoke, her voice indistinguishable, smothered and muffled by the fog.

Your mind wanders aimlessly as your gaze settles fixedly upon the intricate designs mapping her back, pondering why this person was running from you, lightly tracing the swirling clouds. Her skin was icy to the touch, yet you felt an indescribable, content warmth settle around you both.

Twin braids swing rhythmically as she turns, ghosting her own fingers over your bare skin, before gazing unflinchingly into your eyes.

Oh.

Oh.

Eyes of an unmistakable, addictive colour mirrored your bewildered stare. Immediately, you were enraptured by the bliss of her presence - immensely, overwhelming smitten with this intoxicating stranger. Her touch littered your arms, collarbone, neck, every brush somehow hitting you like static. Yet gradually the air around you felt smothering, suffocating. As if those sparks of static had set your body alight.

You take an unsteady step backwards; her hands fall to her sides; her caress has left you smouldering. The fog surrounding you now felt like thick, painful smoke, swallowing your breath in a ghastly cloud.

Her expression was one of desperation as she reaches out towards your retreating figure, now acidic pink eyes pleading for your return. But you don’t want to burn with her, you don’t want to go up in flames, melding together into twisted effigy.

You wrench yourself away, staggering into a sprint.

Yet it was as if you were running through quicksand, limbs moving in slow-motion, never gaining so much as an inch of ground.

Airy laughter grazed your ears as you felt lithe limbs embrace you, torso pressing flush against your back, warm breath ghosting your neck as she purred sweet, possessive nothings into your skin.

It was almost comforting, that groggy, sinking feeling her clasp now had upon you – like a warm cup of chamomile laced with a lethal dose of nightshade.

A slow, soothing way to die.

Awaking to the familiar bite of cold air, you cringe into the warmth of whatever material is covering you. Even worse, everything ached, you expected that this was how someone would feel after ascending a mountain - whilst carrying a sack of bricks in tow. You didn’t want to open your eyes and acknowledge this fucked up situation you’ve found yourself caught in, however you force yourself into consciousness.

Immediately you’re fully awake.

It only takes a couple of seconds for you to register that you’re suspended in mid-air, having been sleeping far too comfortably upon a make-shift hammock. Rope netting, of which you recall being hung around the fan blades, has been hastily wrapped in thick swathes of dark fabric, the same slightly rough material you’re covered in. There’s at least a thirty metre drop beneath you, of which you are not going to risk, leaving you unable to so much as attempt to escape.

Of course, she’d have made sure you had no means of escape - it’s not like she’s going to trust you, even after your embarrassingly desperate pleads to survive.

You call out awkwardly, to which there is no response. Assuming you’re alone, you exhale and fall back into the swinging bed. Whilst it might be a way of keeping you from running off, it was strangely accommodating. Although, the sheets most definitely weren’t actual bed covers, maybe curtains or merely raw fabric, and smelt slightly floral. Below you could see a few lights illuminating the workspace, the occasional splashes of neon colour reflecting off the florescent glare. It was just as you had seen in Arcane, eerily exact.

Letting yourself relax, your mind wanders for some time until you hear the distinct sound of a door opening and wet boots trekking across the fan beneath you.

Peeking over the edge of the hammock, you find the figure of a forlorn looking pyromaniac. Her arms are wrapped around herself, clothes positively drenched. You can assume that the scene in which Silco evil-baptises her has just occurred. As if feeling your gaze on her, she glances upwards, eyes immediately finding yours. A manic grin twists her previously solemn features as she waves her arms around excitedly.

“Mornin’ toots- missed me much?”

You were about to reply, negatively, however she didn’t stop to hear your response.

“Y’know how cold underground water is? It’s freaking freezing! How was I supposed to know to bring a warm change of clothes - if all I got was some foreboding message to meet Silco at the lake??”

She was pacing back and forth, a visible trail of water puddling across her path. Stopping occasionally, she’d throw her hands in the air or harshly whisper into the air beside her.

“Oh yeah- don’t worry about the specifics of how I know Silco. He’s sort of like my adoptive old man, also still a very dangerous drug lord – but I haven’t told him about you yet… So, make sure not to get us caught glowstick, cuz he might actually kill you ahaha…” She’d trail off, leaving you debating your own safety.

You still can’t seem to get a word of response in, as she continues to chatter mindlessly to (presumably) you as she walks around the fan blades. At some point she’d begun to strip off her wet clothes, talking nonchalantly in the process. You turn your gaze away from the near nude woman in embarrassment as she walks in and out of sight, twisting various levers as she goes. Hearing a metallic squeak alongside the sound of a tap running, you faintly recall seeing a bathtub in the series setting. How Jinx manages to get hot water up here, you cannot imagine - although she’s certainly smart enough to have fixed that up for herself.

Laying back, your hands cover your face as you groan in frustration, listening to the idle chatter for what seems like hours before you hear her leave the water.

“Y’know that lake water was dirty too- l swear Silco forgets I’m a girl sometimes. Like, I might be a slightlymanic, gun-wielding terrorist- but I’m still a woman who likes to stay outta dirty water and smell clean!”

You feel faint amusement at this, listening to her rant to you as a frustrated daughter of a single parent. It was so strangely mundane, enough to feel at ease with.

“I’m surprised he doesn’t understand, seeing how much hair you have.” You exclaim genuinely.

“Precisely!” She cries out, “I feel like I’m talking to a brick wall when I bring up anything- anything… feminine with him!”

A smile plays at the corner of your lips.

“Anyhow- Let’s get ya down from there.”

Your stomach momentarily drops as you feel the hammock jerk downwards; your knuckles turning white as you immediately grip the netting.

“Whoops! Sorry ‘bout that toots, may or may not have over-oiled this lever last night.”

You bite back a catty remark, choosing not to snap at the woman lowering you from a fatal drop.

The netting stops descending after a short time, suspended a few metres from the blade, in alignment with the faded green sofa. Taking this as an invitation, you clumsily clamber off the make-shift-bed and onto the sofa below, sitting awkwardly as the blue-haired captor waltzes back from wherever she’d been. A stained, somewhat wet towel is then dropped on the cushioned surface beside you, to which you wrinkle your nose at in slight disgust.

Jinx now stands over you dressed in her usual attire, bar her shoes, hair roughly styled into wet braids. You note that her usual fringe is absent, imagining that it appears when her hair dries, and braids loosen. You can smell something faintly floral and sweet in the air near her.

“That” she points at the abandoned towel, “is for you.”

Halting your observations, you raise an eyebrow in question.

“Look- ya kinda smell toots, like you’ve been rendezvousing in sewers kind of smell. There’s a tub over there, so use it before you stink up my workshop.”

You can feel your cheeks heat up in angry embarrassment at the blunt comment, now feeling incredibly self-conscious under her gaze.

“Fine.” You huff, snatching the towel up as you tread briskly towards the forementioned tub.

You’re met with a faint surprise, now seeing that Jinx had stacked a flimsy wall of wooden crates around the bath to allow you for some form of privacy. For at least this you are grateful, shimmying past the wall and into the small enclosure.

The bath itself is hideously stained; splashes of vibrant colours overlap into off-putting, dirty greys that disappear under the sheen of soapy bubbles. You dread to know what colour the water is beneath the foam, nevertheless, you strip and hesitantly slide into the warm bathwater. Beside the tub is a small, wooden table, on which sits an array of seemingly random bottles, jars, and flasks filled with hell knows what. You can only eye the label-less jars with the necessary suspicion they deserve.

“I forgot to tell ya-“ You startle as a blue head peers over the wall, hurriedly ducking under the colourful bubbles. “don’t go using any of those greyish greenish liquids - they’re definitely not for cleaning.” Jinx proceeds to then throw her arms in the air, mimicking an explosion sound to accompany it. This is then followed by a muffled, amused snicker.

What’s the point of putting together a privacy wall if she was just going to evade it anyway?

You furrow your brows, exhaling shakily in attempt to keep your wits about you. “Right, cheers for that - Can you please leave me to bathe alone now?”

She pauses, shadowed eyes briefly narrowing before shrugging dismissively, disappearing behind the crates. You sigh in relief, sitting upright to separate the green and grey liquids from the huddle of glassware. For further safety you discard all yellow and blue liquids too. Ultimately, they result in green too - right?

Finally, you take a hesitant sniff of a pinkish bottle, a clear liquid that smelt refreshingly non-toxic. Honey and begonia, a scent you now recognise Jinx having smelt of earlier. At this you deem it safest to use, going through plenty of the soapy liquid to scrub through the layers of grime you’d accumulated over the last twenty-four hours or so. You certainly smell far better, even if of begonias. These particular plants bloom into awfully pretty flowers; however, in the past a bouquet of begonias was sent as a warning to beware of bad omens. How eerily fitting.

Quick to leave the lukewarm water, you eye the somewhat cold, damp towel hesitantly before roughly drying yourself off with it. Beside it lays a neat pile of heavy-duty, practical clothes, seemingly a mix-and-match of your choice. The colours consisted of surprisingly neutral earth tones, material decidedly layered and of an almost military or dystopian style. Yet the beneath, the inner linings were decorated with familiar, neon drawings. It would almost seem sweet, yet you sense that there is most definitely an underlying meaning – perhaps in how these signature doodles can be seen to mark a certain ownership over what Jinx would deem as her property. A constant reminder that you’re not here to live as her roomie, but as her personal project.

But at the same time…

Trailing your hands over the material, you can’t help it as your lips tilt into a gleeful smirk.

These clothes are fucking cool, apocalypse-core type of hot.

Strangely satisfied, you push a few crates to the side, sliding through the make-shift room and into open space, immediately coming face-to-face with consequence of your bad karma.

Had she been standing there this whole time? You’re tempted to ask her; the feeling of discomfort having been growing in your gut since the moment she’d opened her mouth. But perhaps accusing the manic, schizophrenic pyromaniac of flaunting her disturbing behaviour isn’t a bright idea.

Meanwhile, the said pyromaniac merely looks you up and down, nods and then proceeds to scamper off towards her central workshop, to which you slowly trail after her.

Perhaps it’s because she’s never really hung out with anyone her own age?

It hits you – this might just be the first time she’s ever allowed anyone in her sanctum besides Silco, yet alone having someone living here with her.

So not only are you a living project, but going through some sort of deadly social experiment on the side?

Mothertrucker dude.

If the current situation wasn’t so decidedly inhumane it would almost be attractive, the whole being pinned down and then non-consensually having your blood drained to keep yourself alive thing. You hiss as a deceivingly delicate hand holds your arms down, not too gently inserting a needle into your wrist.

“Blimey toots, you sure writhe around for someone who volunteered for this.”

You shoot her a scathing glare, to which she grins snidely, pinching your cheeks with an eerie fondness of a sort.

“Ouch, that look could do with some ice.”

“Well perhaps if you hadn’t pounced on me out of nowhere then the whole experience would have been a whole lot less like I was being mugged.”

She rolls her eyes, chuckling as she releases your limbs, climbing off of you.

“Look, I thought that ya wouldn’t be up for it unless I made it more fun!”

“…Fun?”

“Mhm.”

You groan frustratedly at the sheer inability to communicate that this woman possessed. You hadn’t even been given time to dry your hair before she’d jumped you. And now here you are, left wired up to some sort of make-shift trima machine, slowly filling sandwich bags up with your bioluminescent blood. Just to further help the situation, you can clearly see a few test tubes of your blood already sitting at Jinx’s workstation. Paired with the scattering of bruising pinpricks left in your alternate wrist, it’s pretty clear that she isn’t so much as trying to hide the fact that she’d already been draining you.

This must be what it feels like to wake up in a motel submerged in an ice bath with one of your kidneys missing.

Not to mention how utterly boring the task that had been forced upon you is, all you can do is glare at the woman slouched over a table, clearly completely fixated on perfecting the Hextech crystal. Music blares from the vinyl beside her, deafening any of your attempts to catch her attention.

And then it felt like you were watching through a screen again, blue sparks erupting from the workstation. You simply can’t take your eyes off of Jinx, braids dancing around her rhythmically, an expression of prideful extasy cast over her features. Shimmering specks drifting mesmerizingly from every direction.

The piercing sound of glass shattering snaps you out of your trance, almost as if reality was slapping you around the face as a reminder that you too are present in this situation. Surprised, Jinx skids to an imminent stop, leaping from her chair instinctively as broken viles of your blood seep over her desk and dissolve into the spiralling crystal. The result was immediate, as another wave of raw, galvanised magic bursts from the device, a pulse powerful enough to send the flimsy device attached to you flying into your chair. With a strangled yelp from you, the needle is haphazardly torn from your arm, and almost like a swarm of bees, the sparks descend upon you.

Static, all you can seem to disconcert are sharp, electrical pinches. Neither painful nor discomforting, they felt strangely natural. Warily cracking open your eyes, you’re met with a surge of light, of which you can barely squint through. Lifting your bare arm up, you’re quick to observe the sparks seemingly multiplying at the touch of your bare skin. A figure soon enters your field of vision, hands clasping her own face in giddy excitement.

“Oh toots, you’re blue- like literally glowing iridescent!” She swoons, gushing over your newfound condition in fascination. You feel the all-too-familiar bite of nails digging into your skin, already kneeling besides you to trace the map of glowing veins exposed across your arm.

“Wow, I didn’t even notice.” You drawl sarcastically, already feeling the threat of an approaching migraine. It would be so hideously cliché of you to faint twice. Must be these god-awful lights, and the god-awful company.

Snickering, Jinx glances up, gappy front teeth biting over her lower lip.

“You’re practically a power up… An enhancer- D’ya know what this means?”

“…That I’m lucky to not suffer from epilepsy?”

She giggles, gripping your chin tightly as she leans in, eyes never once leaving your own.

“It means you’re one hell of a valuable asset Glowstick.”

Ughgffg sorry for how long this took, I had writers block and a gazillion hugeass assignment deadlines to meet this last term. Made a longer chapter to make up for the wait tho so hope you guys enjoyed aha

The style of clothes I was portraying are seen in Hamcus clothing. The designer of the brand Tuff Leung shows absolute individuality in his designs, the concept of which focuses not so much on clothes as on characters from sci-fi movies and video games. Each collection is dedicated and presented as a separate race, which is already unique.

Tag list: aglist: @imaginewriting @jarofmace​ @amelies-a-simp​ @earning-my-love @i4cosmic @lewwz @keijustbeingsimp @xxmadxlovexx @daughterofposeidon1342018​ @pinkroulette​ @pinkrose1422​ @screechcat​

#jinx #arcane #jinx arcane #jinx supremacy #wlw #jinx x fem reader #arcane x female reader #fem reader #female reader #fanfic #jinx x female reader #jinx x reader #Lol #League of Legends #au #alternative universe au #wlw fanfic #lesbian reader #get jinx therapy #league of lesbians #vi arcane #slico arcane

[saintmachina]

Something Jesus/Magdalene? ❤️

"Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth! For your love is better than wine." Song of Solomon 1:2.

The first time she kisses him, she only has padding her coin purse and filling her belly in mind. He's just a mark, a prospective client, a wide-eyed man from Galilee with softly curling black hair and a strong nose and a full mouth that God must have crafted for kissing, and so she leans down to press her lips to his as she does her dance to the tambourine.

He stiffens and then softens beneath her touch, his lips parting, his tongue darting out to taste the tang of carmine and sweat on her lips. She is shocked by the tenderness of his touch. She is not used to being handled like she is valuable, like she is worth more than her bedding price, and she freezes when his hand comes up to thread through her hair. The band plays on, but she doesn't move as he kisses her, kisses her like this is their wedding day, like she is precious and rare.

For a moment, she glimpses eternity.

Later, when he tells her he is an itinerant teacher, she laughs at him. What sort of occupation is that for a man? She asks, offering him a plate of olives and labneh.

I am a fisher, he says, covering her hand with his own, and a carpenter, and an orator, when the mood strikes. I am about my Father's business, most days.

And the other days? She asks.

He smiles at her, his dark eyes twinkling. She can see the expanse of the night sky in those eyes.

On the other days, I am merely a man.

A lonely man? She asks, thinking of her bed in the inn upstairs, of the way she wants to show him with her body how much his kindness has meant to her. She does not even care that his feet are unwashed, that his hair is tangled. She wants him, more than she's wanted any man in recent memory, wants him in a way so ferocious that it frightens her. She wants him the way starving men want bread, the way religious men ache to be in the presence of the holy.

Perhaps, she thinks, he is the holy.

A man who surrounds himself with devotees and yet seeks true companionship, he says, as though they are the only two people in the room. A man who wishes he could be cared for the way he cares for others, sometimes.

Mary can barely breathe. She feels like she's teetering on the precipice of the rest of the her life, like this strange preacher is the key to her future.

This is what she was made for, she decides. This is the deliverance she has been seeking.

Mary kisses him on the corner of his mouth. He tastes like manual labor and sea salt and something darker, sweeter, hidden, She could spend her entire life trying to riddle out that secret, and never get bored.

Then let us begin this communion of care, she says, letting down her hair. She's always been vain about her hair, but she's happy to surrender it to his service. She kneels at his side and retrieves a bowl of water, dipping the dark tendrils before dragging them across his cracked, abused feet. Mary kneels for no man, not even when they pay her for the privledge, but this feels natural, easy. Right.

He watches her with a strange gleam in his eyes, then bends down and presses a kiss to her forehead. The place where he's kissed her tingles, as though there's power in the touch.

I think I have been waiting my entire life to meet you, he says.

Check out my other Jesus/Magdalene ficlet here!

#i am very neutral on the theory that mary magdalene was a sex worker and I realize that this might not have been the case #but I found it compelling tonight so I worked with it #millennial gospel #answered asks #theology #mary magdalene #bible fanfiction #writing

[lesbianwriter]

Can you write part three for a civilian who tries to run away? Pretty please? <3

Well, since you said pretty please…

Part One | Part Two

“I’m going to work.” Civilian timidly walked to the front door; her hand at the knob when Villain spoke up.

“Alright. Have a nice day.” Villain looked away.  

Civilian exhaled and smoothed her rumpled outfit. Everything was out of place without Villain. Her wife always kissed her on the cheek before work and helped clean up wrinkles in her outfit, but she was standing at the door and Villain was sitting on the couch, far away. 

She turned the knob, stealing another glance at Villain from a distance, and prepared to leave.

“Wait!” Villain said, rushing into the foyer with a lunchbox. “You left your lunch on the counter…here.”

“Oh. Thanks.” Civilian took it as if Villain was a hot stovetop. She looked at her lips, then her gaze darted to the floor. There was too much happening to even think about it.

Villain’s heart continued to break into more pieces. Civilian was uncomfortable by her mere presence, and though she couldn’t blame her for that, it made her sad thinking about a time when it was the opposite. When Civilian wouldn’t leave without a kiss; when Villain would gently tease her about how messy she was without her help whirl she helped Civilian look presentable. 

She held back a sad comment about how it used to be and just said: “I hope you have a good day.”

“…yeah.” Civilian clutched the knob harder.

—

—

Work was not good. The minute Civilian was alone in the back, she broke down in tears, her face hidden in her hands and she slumped forward like a wilted flower. 

“Aw, Civilian, what’s wrong?” Coworker asked. She took off her apron and sat beside Civilian on the bench.

“I…I got in a fight with Villain.” She hesitated.

“You two are perfect for each other, so a fight is only natural as long as it’s healthy. What happened? How bad was it?” Coworker continued. 

Civilian sobbed into her hands. “She was hiding a secret from me and she’s trying so hard to make up for it and give me space but I don’t know if I can love her the same as before!”

“A secret? Did she have an affair?”

“No—not that. Villain didn’t…she wouldn’t do that—it’s personal, but I just don’t know what to do. I want to love her but I don’t know if I can.” 

“Well, I don’t know much about relationships, but if it gets worse I’ll always be here to listen if you need somebody to lend an ear. Okay?”

—

—

“You forgot your lunchbox again.” Villain held it out. Civilian fidgeted with the hem of her jacket, her eyes lowered. 

“Yesterday was terrible,” she admitted.

“I’m sor—“

“Because you didn’t kiss me. You need to kiss me to make the day good.” Civilian finished.

Something in Villain snapped in half. With teary eyes, she pressed a loving kiss to her cheek. Maybe it would work. Perhaps they could fix this—together. Villain could have that beautiful, fairytale ending she dreamed of having. 

She pulled away for a breath and tucked a strand of hair behind Civilian’s ear. “You need to brush your hair if you don’t want it to be messy.”

“Never.” The other breathed softly, half in relief and half in fear as she felt her lover pull away. The hands on her arms were capable of so much harm—but Villain was so careful to keep her touch as light as a feather. As if she were handling a fragile bust of a goddess. 

Villain noticed the small flinch Civilian gave as her fingers left her skin. Her hope flickered; it was understandable for Civilian to be scared of her touch, her hands had been covered in the blood of heroes and good men too many times to count, but knowing the rational reaction didn’t ease her aching. Love was never rational. 

“Can we talk after I get back from work?” Civilian asked, taking a tentative step closer. 

“Of course.”

#villain x civilian #civilian x villain #wlw #writing snippet #heroes and villains #my writing #slightly angsty #fluff at the end

[tae-v-eat]

Jung Hoseok

Imagine 16+

Summary: Ceo, Hoseok and Y/N, his secretary fuck out the sexual tension between one another in the bedroom.

TW: cussing, explicit language, sex content, spanking, choking, mention of kinks, degradation.

Hyung Series: Part 2

Member: Jung Hoseok

Date Finished: January 16, 2022

( MY WORK! DO NOT STEAL! )

I thought he was done, but without giving me time to catch my breath his tongue met my collarbone. The sudden motion caused me to moan; the combination of wetness from his tongue and heat from his body was enough to Subdue me into submission.

As he skillfully left a trail, slowly, from my collarbone all the way to my ear I became addicted. "Why so quiet, mama," He paused licking my neck. "Let daddy hear you." He said looking down at me.

He was standing very close to my back, and every time he breathed out I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck rise. My entire body was enticed, and I couldn't help but wither like a wilted flower in his presence. My legs couldn't hold out anymore and whatever little self-control I had -walking in here- has long vanished.

It was as if the mere touch from him caused my body to disobey, my strained outcry for self-control was ignored as my mind began to shut down. Giving him total control over me. I told myself I didn't want this, and that he was the enemy, and yet…here I am. Standing inside his room, my back leaned against his chest, while he outlined my body slowly with his hands. I know I shouldn't, but I couldn't resist turning around to face him.

He smirked down at me, his brown eyes filled with lust. As I carefully eyed his tongue sweep over his bottom lip, the muscle moistening them, I shuddered. A burning sensation overwhelmed the muscle between my legs.

He leaned forward brushing his hand softly against my cheek before whispering in my ear. "Jump for me, Jagiya.(baby)” I gasped but happily obeyed. Jumping into his arms, he caught me and proceeded to wrap my legs around his waist. He walked over to the bed, roughly throwing me down. He smirked, I could feel my aching, secondary, lips gasping. No…they were begging to be pleased. My mouth lay slightly open as I watched him slowly pull the suit from his body. He stood before me in nothing but his boxers, and a dissatisfied look crossed his face.

"Do you enjoy wearing such slutty clothes?" He asked while crawling on top of me. A sly grin danced onto my lips, eyes dancing with mischief. “It was never for my enjoyment?” His breath hitched, and he glared at me. My words affected him more than he’d admit. His eyes took on a siren-like stare. They were different from his usual cute innocent doe eyes. These had a more intoxicating look to them. Dangerous, yet irresistible. Nothing but hunger could be seen swirling around his irises.

He gently began tracing my every curve and lump with his hands before ripping off my tight-fitted dress. A small gasp left my mouth as the room’s temperature dropped a couple of degrees, causing goosebumps to form along my arms. I began to squirm as the insecurities I pushed deep down forced their way to the surface. It wasn’t until I saw the eager look on his face that I was able to loosen up.

He hungrily latched onto my left breast causing a small moan to escape my lips. He continued licking, swirling, and biting my right nipple. At the same time, he fondled my left breast’s nipple making sure to squeeze and pinch enough to earn multiple grunts and whimpers from me. Releasing my boob from the wet punishment, it made a "pop" sound before he decided on continuing his assault on the left. The strong muscle swirls around my nipple. He was always so skilled in the bedroom. His free hand slowly glides along your stomach, inching closer to your thighs. His fingers tease you, gently rubbing up and down your hip bone. He made no effort to continue lower.

The slow sensual swirls he drew along my hip caused me to involuntarily thrust my body into his. You gulp, wanting him to pleasure you in your sweet spot. Your hands find their way to his brown locks, tugging them lightly when you feel his teeth skim your swollen nipple. Grinning up at me with an expression of mischief, he seemed to be in a joking mood as he began roaming slowly over my lace panties. Removing his hands each time I whimpered. A look of lust gleamed in his eyes as I began eagerly thrusting my hips into his, trying to receive the release, I so desperately craved. He smirked, “ You’re awfully needy. Such a responsive slut you are for me.” He spoke completely removing himself from the bed. Confused I sat up, my elbows holding me up while I looked at him with glazed eyes. He stood at the foot of the bed, watching me. His eyes roamed over every inch of my over-simulated body with a grin. “You’re such a panting mess, darling. I love a responsive slut.” He growled out, his eyes making contact with mine. Nothing but pure adulterer lust swam in his irises. Ripping his gaze from me he immediately eyed my exposed warmth. With his tongue sliding across his lips, he smirked before crawling back on the bed toward me.

He bent down leaning toward my wet center. He grinned up at me, a puzzled look etched onto my face. He was so unpredictable, I could never tell what he was going to do. As my head fell back a prolonged moan left my mouth, I finally understood the meaning behind the grin.

He nipped at the dampening material, that was my red lace underwear. He sucked up the leaking juices that ran down my thigh and traced the inside of my thigh with his tongue causing me to moan. I could no longer control the hums of pleasure that he was causing me. I whimpered and moaned his name, the sounds, to him being fuel, as his pace got faster and sloppier. He had complete and total control over my body and I did not care. It was too good to care.

“I can’t get enough of you. Your scent Is beyond tempting and you smell so appetizing.” Slender fingers circled my clit invoking a shrew of moans from me. He kept his eyes on me as he continued to finger my womanhood with calculated and sensual swipes. “Hoseok plea-” I gasped, the words quickly leaving my mind. The air knocked out of me as he swiftly thrust two of his fingers into my hole. Nothing seemed to matter but the quick fingers my lover provided me. I was a moaning mess for him and on the verge of tears. He adjusted his position to where he was hovering above me all while maintaining his fingers deep within me.

He lowered his face, licking my tears away and glancing at me with such love. Even with him being aggressive with my body, he always made sure to keep a little bit of compassion. It made my heart beat against my rib cage. There was no doubt, I was utterly enthralled by this man. My thoughts were interrupted, the sudden wave of release shaking my entire body, coming around his fingers with a shrew of shrieking moans, as I called out his name over and over. A satisfied smile formed on Hoseok’s face as he planted a slow and passionate kiss along my plump lips. Releasing me I smiled up at him. “That’s it darling. I want the entire apartment complex to know that you belong to me.”

You’re too busy trying to breathe that you don’t notice him take off his boxers. His manhood sprang free, eager to please my pussy. When I regain sense I look up to see him rubbing himself while staring deep into my eyes. “Are you ready Jagiya?” To tell you the truth, I wasn’t prepared, but I knew I’d take him regardless. And with steeled nerved I held his gaze as I nodded, giving my consent. A smirk graced his lips as he swiftly grabbed my ankles and pulled me toward the end of the bed. Slowly, he crawled over to me on the bed. He held my gaze, making sure that I actually wanted this, before aligning himself with my folds. “Breathe in,” I did as he said and at the same time felt him thrust inside me. My walls contracted around him, causing him to throw his head back and let out a guttural moan.

FIN

#cussing #imagines #18+ only #mature #bts smut #jhope x reader #jung hoseok #bts jhope

[mutluyum11]

you…

i’m a complex human being

contradictory is my seed

i thought there couldn’t be

a bigger confusion in its existency.

but then of course, our lives intervened.

you came as no surprise,

nothing of a facade i hadn’t seen

yet slowly you unveiled most parts of me,

i always kept concealed beneath .

repudiating were my words

tricky to read was my expression

to vigorously test your mind,

but captivating were your eyes

with each response you would voice

as you left my essence

shockingly, in complete rejoice.

deliberately went our journey

prudently caressing our profound souls.

until the pace became unbearable

as we ached wanting more.

the need was unrecognizable

strange even in its own kind,

therefore the pain infuriated

attacking the poor, “dim light”.

needles pecked my wary heart

quite again it came as no surprise,

but this time a well enraged from within

and it couldn’t find a way to stop.

my judgment was a haze

i reconcile that to be best,

for your presence was so troubling

but your absence even more of a stress.

hence, i would rather lose my mind

on how tacky your breath sounded

than to never smell again

your odor, strong and enchanted.

the cold eventually swept by

in between blossoming leaves

lingered your voice on how you missed

my acquaintance in the midst .

frankly, it was almost all i needed

to spark the courage and depart

of the grand awaited affirmation:

you were engraved in my heart

on extents no friend should overcome.

resentment abruptly arose

once your hands came too close

people who weren’t deserving

of your brilliant conferring.

although utter disbelief berated me

on why my feelings came in the loose,

your touch grew more than thrilling

and your voice kept me seduced.

my name swirling in your mouth

was a torment to endure

knowing chances of acting upon

were a sheer impossibility.

now that we’re alone

conversing deeper than we ever have,

how can motions of powerful assertion

curve later into seeming refutation?

what ludicrous creatures are we

to interact in parallel means?

how could we have trespassed so far

to yield each others needs?

my internal struggle to confess

your ownership to my many thoughts,

failing on being forthright

they twist in abstracts manners

are paraphrased in even more so.

and quite shamelessly

you reciprocate the confusion

the almost madness.

oh this delirium regarding you!

your bewilderment and mine

are immensely endorsing, consuming.

breathless in anticipation i reside

to have the mystery solved and restored

of what these feelings of yours are,

but most importantly

wether this mere “friendship”

is to ever go up aboard

#poetry #poem #poems #book #books #writing #writer #amateurwriting #him