#which is SUCH a waste but no time like the present ig | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

silverzoomies · 1 year

Text

Antithesis

james patrick march x reader smut

warnings: smut, slow burn-ish, oral sex, one-sided pining, devotion, body worship, hand jobs, slight choking, pet names, oneshot

word count: 7640

a/n: my apologies if james seems at all ooc here. i try my goddamn hardest to keep characters as close to their source material as possible. but, when it comes to self indulgent smut, sometimes you gotta pull a few strings!!! oh, and i'd also like to apologize for the long length of this fic. and for how abruptly it ends hdsghkjdshkgsg it's a mess, sorry !!

bonus note ig: in 1920's slang, a "goof" is an idiot. james basically thinks of you as naive and dumb here. sorry!

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March doesn’t dislike you. “Dislike” is much too strong a word.

No, he tolerates you. Dare he think it, he might even be somewhat…fond of you. The two of you were born nearly a hundred years apart. And so, as expected, you were the absolute antithesis of one another. March built himself from the ground up. He started with little to nothing. Carrying with him a background he so dreaded to recall. Childhood memories best left buried deep. Never to see the shining light of day again. March walked with a prestigious elegance. Something all but lost to the world in modern times, he thought. He was high-class. New money incarnate. Fancy, social affairs and aesthetic, art-deco decor were his most treasured hobbies. Amongst his other, more…contentious interests. And you. What were you?

Some little goof. You poor thing. Your story was quite the tragedy, really. Born almost one hundred years later to middle class stock. An entirely different world from the one in which March knew. Your arrival to the hotel Cortez was…unfortunate. You were the embodiment of innocence. Overly polite to a fault. Kind to the staff and the hotel’s mysterious residents. Never going out of your way to disturb a single soul. And you always made sure to apologize for the times you did.

And like all lives brought to the Cortez, yours ended there. A shame. A pity. Truly. What a waste. After you died, you drifted aimlessly for a while. Exploring every inch of the hotel you could. Bearing witness to the unspeakable horror that burned like scorching fire from inside. The hotel Cortez was nothing short of the infernal regions made earthly.

Even so, you weren’t the least bit fazed by this fact. Death changed you. It changed your moral perspective.

But you were missing something. A purpose. Every soul, lost adrift, needed purpose.

Liz knew all.

She knew everything about everyone. Including you. You’d sit at the bar, talking to her for hours on end. About your life. Liz’s life. The lives of the Cortez’s other, ghostly residents. She’d tell you of the hotel and its history. And you learned all there was to know. But in sharing your deepest thoughts, desires, and fears, you’d been a little too open. And Liz learned enough that, had a curious party asked about you? She could easily act as an informant.

You were a poor sap. Harboring a deep rooted, psychological need to please.

In death, you told Liz, you wanted nothing more than, simply…a person. Someone to dedicate yourself to entirely. Someone to love, to adore, to spend all of eternity caring for. Such an innocent desire, from such an unsullied soul.

You heard of him only in passing. James Patrick March.

You knew of his murderous atrocities. And you’d heard whispers of his bloodied history in hushed tones. Liz told you of everything March built, and what he’d become in the process.

March assumed you thought nothing of it. Nothing of him. Because at the Cortez, he was often that. Nothing more than a rumor. Only making himself present whenever necessary. Any other day? He remained a chilling, ghost story. And that’s all he’d been to you.

Until the two of you crossed paths, that is.

March was polite and courteous, as he always is. And the soulless, empty void of his dark eyes met yours. Pure, beautiful, and innocent. The two of you couldn’t have been more different from one another. You, his polar opposite. If he were the infernal reaches of hell itself, you were the luminous kingdom of heaven.

Whatever you felt for him, it must have been instantaneous.

Because suddenly, your sorrow dissipated. A lifetime of suffering and anguish faded away into thin air. And finally, you were free. Joyous. You, the little goof. Your demeanor somehow became all the more polite and inviting. Ironic, really. Considering…the source of your happiness was the very personification of evil itself.

You’d skip around the hotel with a spring in your step. Greeting everyone who passed you in the halls with a chipper, sunny disposition. Parading around in those loose-fitting clothes. Your skin decorated in ink reminiscent of your rather quirky interests. Appalling, if you were to ask him.

You were vexatious. And yet…

March found he appreciated your company.

You really were too sweet. Sickeningly so. Like cavity-inducing candy. Truly good at heart. There wasn’t a hateful, nefarious bone in your body. But you were deeply loyal to a fault. It was a weakness that kept you chained. It held you down. Never allowing you to reach your true potential. March could see it. He saw right through you, straight into your delicate soul. He saw your aura. Unsullied purity.

March learned all he could about you from Liz.

And once he had, he felt the need to test your unbroken clarity.

He showed you everything. Every secret. Every piece of gory history which revealed his past, his life’s purpose, his true intentions. The never-ending, torturous suffering he brought upon the innocent lives of the world. He confessed to you his killings. Even going into the dark, gritty details. March stared you down with an empty, far off look in his shady eyes. An uncanny gaze. And he expressed to you all his crazed, degenerate passions.

He expected you to react accordingly. Like any soul so pure and unblemished as yours should.

But death…

Death truly did change you. The hotel Cortez? It corrupted your moral code.

Perhaps he was mistaken. Maybe you weren’t as innocent as you often seemed.

You treated his passions like any other hobby. And you engaged in conversation about them casually. Beaming the brightest, most curious, smile. Your eyes glimmered with genuine interest and fascination. And March found he was more than happy to share that part of himself with you. Delighted to discuss his exploits with a newfound friend. A trusted friend.

He did long for someone to talk to…

And it was then, he realized. He knew. He was woefully fucked.

Because you. Naive, little goof that you were…

You’d found your purpose.

The one person whom you’d give your undying devotion, for forever and into eternity.

No one, not a single soul in the hotel had expected it. When you sat at the bar, sipping on your sweet sodas instead of anything alcoholic (ever the carefree babe, you were). You spoke of having ‘found’ your purpose. And there were smiles all around. “ Ooh’s ” and “ Aah’s ” exchanged through hushed gossip. Who could this person be, they asked themselves.

Imagine the residents’ surprise once they put two and two together.

Of all people. Him? Really? Were you mad as a hatter?

From then on, you followed March everywhere. Attached at his side like a leech. And though he considered you a dear friend, you weren’t much more to him than a loyal dog. You offered your help whenever you saw fit. And, somewhat reluctantly, he allowed it.

To his surprise, March found you respected his personal space. You’d disappear when he found your company too overwhelming. Sometimes, you were gone for days. Or even weeks. Off to explore the hotel again. Or to drift aimlessly as you did in the days before you’d found him. Uncertain as to what you should do in your lonesome. Sometimes, you’d listen to music. Clamorous racket of the modern era.

And eventually, always, you returned.

Sometimes, March found he missed your presence when you were gone.

And despite the admiration you carried for him, you valued March’s love for his dearest wife. The Countess. Often, you’d go so far as to listen to him drone on and on about her. And he could. If March were allowed the opportunity, he’d speak of her for centuries. He’d reminisce about his most cherished memories of her. His Elizabeth. Mrs. March. When March had his monthly dinners with his dearest, you felt it necessary to assist. You were insistent upon it, actually. Helping alongside Ms. Evers, you did what you could to make those nights as grand and romantic as possible. And when he banished Ms. Evers, you didn’t hesitate to take over entirely. Every one of those special nights, you were there to help him prepare.

Once the dinners themselves started, you’d run off. Leaving the pair undisturbed. And he wouldn’t see you again until the next morning.

One night, March sat across from the countess at the table. She glared at him with a half-lidded, miserable expression. But March missed this glare. Because he’d been busy watching you leave. He smiled, raising his glass to you. And you waved him off, wishing him luck, before closing the door.

At that very moment, he made a decision.

The next night came, and there he sat. Present at the dinner table again. Only, you were his cherished guest of the evening. Dinner lay before you both. Though, in death, you never ate. March watched with a grin as you sipped some champagne. You fluttered delicate lashes his way. Devotion leaking like tears from your eyes. A delighted smile played across your lips. One always present in his company, he found.

“Darling! I assume you’re wondering why it is I’ve called you here tonight, hm?” He posed the question rather excitedly.

Your pretty, doe eyes widened at that. You poor thing. Your cheeks burned in a flurry of rose red. Even in the dim, candle-lit light of the room. Even at a distance, across the table, March could see your blush clear as day. He smirked into his glass.

Never, in all the years since the two of you met, had he ever addressed you as darling.

The effect this seemed to have on you was very much apparent. He could see the shift in your expression. The way you’d fallen breathless under his cold-blooded gaze. March couldn’t help but find your obvious desire for him…amusing.

“Uhm…y-...yes. Well…sorta? I figured this was just another…casual, hang-out night for us!” Your quiet, timid voice spoke aloud.

March lowered his glass, and he hummed.

“Casual? I suppose one could consider this casual, if they’d prefer.” March said, “All the same, I’ve called you here because…I have a proposition for you!”

“Wh-uh…what kinda proposition, sir?”

“Let’s not dance around the matter any longer, dear. Simply put, I’m well aware.” He said.

Confusion overtook your delicate features, and your brows knitted together. March sat still in his seat with a knowing smirk. You tilted your head, bringing your own glass down to the table.

“I’m…confused. You’re aware of what, exactly?”

“Why, that you’re in love with me, of course.” March stated.

Your eyes widened further. March caught the awkward movement of one of your hands. It trembled where it lay on the table. And when you spoke again, you did so shyly. Your voice was as soft as the pink in your cheeks.

“A-Am I?” You dared to ask. As though he hadn't known all these years.

March’s knowing grin spread wider. A dark, domineering color washed over his eyes. And he fixed you with an intimidating look. One that could so easily kill, had you been anyone else. Even in death, you felt your stomach twist in fluttery knots at the sight. You dropped your bashful gaze to the table, too nervous to look him in the eye. You were being avoidant, March knew. And your denial only heightened his desire to bait you.

“I’m not stupid, old friend. For how long?” He asked.

“Since…” You swallowed nervously, shrinking in on yourself, “...the moment I saw you.”

March’s expression remained unchanged. His cold gaze unblinking.

“All this time?”

Taking a brave chance at looking him in the eye, you glanced upward. And you were met with that empty, black gaze. Pools of ink, much like an abyss, stared intensely at you. You didn’t need to say anything further. His suspicions were confirmed then. March’s brows pressed together in thought.

“I…see.” He said, and he brought his hand to his chin, “Well, in all those years? You’ve proven yourself undoubtedly loyal to me. You see, so often, when Ms. Evers was around. Though, I did care for her. She had these…maddening tendencies. She’d express her apparent distaste for my darling wife. And she was incredibly passive. Selfishly so.”

As March spoke, his tone shifted. Infected with a venomous sting, and unbridled hatred. His other hand, resting on the table, clenched into a fist.

“As you’re aware…Ms. Evers…she deceived me. In the name of love, was her excuse. Such a…disappointing betrayal.” March lingered on the statement for a moment longer.

He snapped himself out of his spiteful rage. Blinking, March perked up. And his handsome grin returned.

“But, you! You’re quite the opposite of her, aren’t you? Wouldn’t you say? Never once have you said an unkind word. You’ve always been so polite to my dearest Mrs. March. And so generous to me! I can't recall you ever acting selfishly. And for that, I must tell you, I am profoundly grateful. It's so dreadfully difficult to find someone you can trust these days.”

“O-Of course!” You nodded, speaking in a gentle tone, “I guess…I just don’t really care if you-uh…if you never feel the same way I do. Being by your side, sir…getting to see you every day…”

Dreamily, you sighed. Like a dame in a daze of infatuation. The sweetest smile graced your blushing face.

“To see that smile of yours. And those eyes…” You sighed once more, “To hear your heavenly voice…that’s enough for me.”

You allowed a little…indulgence to slip through your confessions. Admiration and adoration for March permeated within your every word. Looking at you, he could practically see with his own eyes the unconditional love scorching with a passionate fury in your eyes. He might’ve even felt for himself your amorous desire. It exuded like pheromones from your admittedly fetching body.

He almost found it…endearing.

March blinked, clearing his throat. He tugged at his collar.

“Yes…I trust your devotion knows no earthly bounds, my dear.” He said, bringing his hands together before him, “Which is why, I’d like to present to you…that proposition! I’m nothing, if not a man of mercy. And if anyone is more than deserving of my mercy, it’s you, old friend.” March pointed to you with a ring-clad finger. And curiously, you tilted your head. “If you recall…before my dearest passed? She and I often had those dinners together. One night a month! They were…so very special to me. Truly a gift. The only thing that kept me balanced in this endless, monotonous purgatory of my own design. …Such a treat it was…to share at least…one night with my beloved.”

“It must’ve been nice, sir. Especially after she passed? To have her around more often? I know that meant everything to you.”

“It did.” March smiled fondly. And yet, as quick as it came, his adoring smile fell.

A broken-hearted melancholy plagued his ghostly features.

“Though…our time together has…diminished these days. She avoids me anymore. Hasn’t spoken a word to me in…weeks. Do you know that, at last night’s dinner? She didn’t say a goddamn thing! And again, she’s run off in search of…the pleasures of other men…”

March stared off, his dead-eyed gaze dropping to the table.

“It’s a….barren feeling. The most desolate ache I’ve ever endured…” He confessed.

Sympathetic, little goof. You looked at him then with an expression of sympathy, and opened your mouth to speak. March interrupted you before you could even begin. The very, last thing he wanted was your pity. At the flip of a dime, March perked up once more. He clapped his hands together loudly, suddenly appearing chipper. Beaming a wide, uncannily sweet grin.

“But nevermind all that, darling! What I’m proposing…is of a similar nature. For you, if you’d like! If it’d satisfy your deepest, perverted desires? Then, for one night a month…I, James Patrick March, owner of the hotel Cortez and America’s most infamous executioner…am all yours!”

Your eyes flew open wide. Like a precious, vulnerable creature under the gaze of a vicious predator. And your darling face…it burned an even brighter shade of red. March’s smile crooked up into a smirk. Addicting it was…this influence he seemed to have over you. Precious thing.

“Wait…wh-...what??” You waved your hands, “Oh, no, no, no! I couldn’t ever ask that of you, sir! Please, really! Don’t even worry about it! I’m not-...I don’t have to have you in that way to survive our purgatory together!”

The silence that overtook the room was deafening. In the background, the ticking of an old clock rang on. Along with the distant, alluring melody of a gramophone. John McCormack. Roses of Picardy. March stood up after some time. And slowly, steadily, he made his way to you at the other end of the dining table. He approached you wordlessly, eyes like obsidian focused entirely on your own. Analyzing and observing. Once close enough, he reached a large hand out. His palm fell to your shoulder, squeezing you in a firm grip. Leaning in, March spoke in a low, gravelly tone.

“Are you suggesting that you’re…ungrateful? You do realize this is…a gracious gesture…coming from a man of my status…” He didn’t break eye contact with you for even a second. March’s grip on your shoulder tightened, “...don’t you, little one?"

Despite the menacing nature of his actions, you let your eyes so shamelessly trail up and down his fancily-dressed form. And March saw all of it. Every movement of your eyes. The motion of your throat as you swallowed. The not-so-subtle way you leaned into his touch. How your thighs pressed together as if to relieve some…personal tension.

He raised a brow. Curious.

Your eyes sparkled innocently up at him. And again, you fluttered those delicate lashes.

“I’m not ungrateful, sir! I’m so honored. I mean, obviously, I’m honored! But…” You scoffed, as if in disbelief, “But, me? I mean…come on… you ? With me??” With a soft huff of a laugh, you looked down at your lap, “But…I’m not…Mrs. March. I’m…nothin’ like her.”

March hummed a sound which suggested his pity for you.

“You’re right. You’re not…” He muttered in monotone, “You lack everything my dearest Elizabeth has. Her grace. Her ethereal elegance. She…is a creature of divinity.” March paused for a beat, “But you’ve no confidence nor class, I’m afraid. You’re more…a being of the mundane.”

Again, a sinister loathing invaded his gaze.

“But…unlike Ms. Evers…wretched, old bat…” He growled.

A wild grin spread across March’s lips, his teeth sinking into them. He brought his other hand to your chin, gently tilting it upward. Upon your face, he caught a broken-hearted frown.

“You, darling…” He hummed, “You have been blessed with certain…more pleasant qualities…”

His hand on your shoulder grazed a thumb across it. March let his eyes drop to your figure, as if to suggest something. And in that instant, you felt your lifeless heart skip a beat. As though your soul were springing to life again. Born anew.

“I…have?” You furrowed your brows, “So…what you’re sayin’ is…this is you settling? For someone lesser?”

March hummed again, considering your words. He pulled both hands from you.

“I prefer to think of it this way. In return for your undeniable devotion and loyalty throughout the tenure of our friendship. I’m giving you the opportunity to be with me. Consider it a reward, if you will. However you wish, my dear. One night a month, you can have me. Romantically. Physically. Intimately.”

“Uh…okay…wow! That’s-...that’s…very kind of you, sir.” You stared up at March with those doting eyes. Biting your lip, you hesitated to ask, “So…wh-...when would we-uhm…when would we start?” A pause, and you nervously stammered over your words, “I-if I were to-uh…accept your…generous proposition?”

Immediate eagerness. Exactly the response he’d suspected from someone as smitten as yourself. March leered down at you smugly, his eyes falling half-lidded

Desperate, little thing, weren’t you?

“Tonight, if you’d prefer! Or…any night of your choosing. Whatever you want, darling. I insist. This courtesy is entirely yours.” He suggested.

A moment of contemplative quiet passed as you thought it over. And March watched you like a hawk, patiently waiting. Though, he already knew exactly what you were going to say. Even before you’d made a decision. The rosy color blooming darker in your cheeks ultimately gave you away.

“T-Tonight then? If you’ll…have me.” You stammered, “I’m honored, sir.”

March wanted to laugh. To boast that he could read you all too well. But calmly, he nodded.

“Very well!”

He walked off then. March pulled at the fabric of his bowtie, tugging until it came completely undone. Following that motion, he shrugged his jacket off. Folding it neatly and setting it aside, he moved to unbutton the first, few buttons of his dress shirt. March disappeared into another room, out of sight. But you heard his familiar, smoky voice call out.

“Come!”

Hesitating, you stood from your seat at the table. And with tiny, careful steps, you followed the sound of March’s voice. In a vintage loveseat, you found him waiting. He sat with his chin in his hand, a cigarette burning between two fingers. His legs were spread open wide. And he patted his lap.

“Best not to waste anymore time, dear.”

“Wh-...What are we doin’?” You asked, looking down at your hands as you fiddled with them.

Poor dear. You were standing in the room so timidly. Looking innocent, and so very delicate. Like a frightened, fluffy, little deer. Easy game, for a hunter like March.

“Isn’t this what you want?” He took a drag of his cigarette, his tone low and vibrating. March spread his legs open further, “Don’t be bashful, now, little one. I’ll only bite if you ask it of me.”

You seemed hesitant. Fearful of making any sudden moves. But, with a facade of confidence March knew all too well you didn’t possess, you approached him. And you lowered yourself into his lap slowly, struggling to maintain eye contact. Eye contact was one of March’s many, gifted talents. And being such a shy dame, you could barely keep up. Once snug on his lap, you took time to admire March. Carefully, you trailed your hands down his chest. And you let your trembling fingers brush the fabrics of his perfectly tailored clothes. Clothes once deep-cleaned of blood-stains by the very maid he considered an abomination.

Your hands moved upwards, first tracing over the bloody slit in his neck. Before cupping his cheeks for only a moment. You brushed a small thumb over one of his dimples. March smiled at you, hardly invested in what you were doing. Allowing you to have your fun. You touched March with careful, delicate movements. Handling him as if he were your most precious, priceless treasure. You looked at him as though you couldn’t fathom the reality before you. As though being with him like this was a foggy, distant dream. One you’d never ask to wake from.

Daringly, you leaned in. And you let your cool breath ghost over his lips.

“A-Are you sure about this, sir?” You asked, timid as ever.

March appeared unbothered and uncaring. Yet, admittedly, he felt somewhat curious of your next move. How far could a shy, innocent thing like you take this…intimate interaction? March assumed you’d clock out after a bit of heavy petting. With an equanimous smirk, he nodded.

“Positively certain.” He muttered, “And please, while we’re together like this, darling? Do call me James. You can forgo the formalities.”

You blinked, amazed. Looking into his eyes with all the love and adulation in the ever-expanding cosmos. Marveling in his presence. Your nose brushed his, and you leaned even further in.

And you kissed him.

It was a clumsy, graceless kiss at first. But as you continued, you found your confidence. A heated flow enveloped your every movement. And for the first, few kisses, March didn’t reciprocate. He kept a hand at the armrest of the loveseat. His other occupied with that cigarette. He didn’t care to touch you yet. But as your kisses drew him in deeper, as you mewled little noises into his lips…March found himself giving in. One of his large hands found your hips, squeezing there first. Before moving to wrap his arm around your back. He pulled you in close. And you ran your hands up through his hair. Freeing those irresistible curls of his.

Finally, at long last, he kissed you back. And in that instant, you drank in the motions of a man far more cultivated and refined than you could ever hope to be. In a thousand lifetimes, you could never live up to his status. And yet, he kissed you anyway. If you could taste, his lips would’ve tasted of champagne and nicotine.

“Wow-” You breathlessly gasped into his lips.

A flash of fire burned in his lidded eyes, and he peered up at you. March let out a soft, vibrating chuckle.

“Eager are we, darling?”

“Uh…” Poor, little goof. Still so lost in your lovestruck daze, “I just-”

The urge to kiss March again proved far too much for you to resist. You leaned in again, capturing his skilled lips in another flurry of deep kisses. And when you pulled back, you shook your head. For a moment, you simply stared at March. Taking in his ghostly features. Admiring his handsome face, his black eyes, the curls of his hair.

“Thank you, si-uhm…James. Thank you. I…never imagined…you’d ever let me touch you. Let alone k-uhm…kiss you like this…”

He chuckled again, humming a deep noise in his chest. The sound sent a spark of something gratifying straight to your core.

“I told you, didn’t I? I am, after all, a man of mercy…”

You brought a hand up to his cheek, stroking it gently with soft fingers. March noticed that, whenever you touched him, you did so as if he were a timeless lover.

“You most certainly are…” Leaning forward, you pressed your lips to his forehead, “...so gracious.”

March hadn’t expected you to wiggle backwards. And where did you think you were going? Were you giving up already? Giving into your paranoid worries? You let yourself sink off his lap and onto your knees. Scooting your way across the carpet and in between his legs, you gazed up at March with those lovely, doe eyes.

“You know…I’d do anything for you, don’t you James?” You trailed your hands up to his trousers, your fingers fiddling with the buttons, “...is this alright?”

To say he was caught off guard by your boldness, would be one hell of an understatement. His innocent, pure-of-heart, little goof? Submitting to him on their knees so easily like this? How had he never suspected this of you? March’s empty eyes widened, watching you from above with a dark, predatory gaze.

“If it’s what you so desire, then…do continue. I’m not going to stop you. This is your night, little one. Don’t you remember?”

You stared at him for a moment longer, uncertain of yourself. Before finally working the buttons of his trousers open. Bringing a small hand through the slit in the fabric, you felt around. And your fingers brushed across-

An adorable gasp escaped your lips.

You…hadn’t expected him to be hard. If the surprised, embarrassed look on your face was anything to go by. Because surely, the James Patrick March himself couldn’t possibly be aroused over someone as mundane as you. Could he?

Sucking in a slow breath, you continued. Your fingers snuck their way through the softness of his undergarments. A bit of movement, and you pulled his thick cock free. At the sight of the twitching length, those sparkling eyes of yours lit up brightly. Beaming, as if mesmerized. You were practically drooling over his cock. And you’d barely touched it at all.

March’s breath hitched from above. He watched you attentively, focused on the movement of your small hand. It stroked and squeezed around the thickness of him. Somewhat skillfully, he’d have to admit. Almost as though you knew exactly what you were doing. How is it that here, touching him intimately, you weren’t the least bit clumsy?

You bravely tilted your head upward, meeting his darkening gaze.

“You said…I could do whatever I wanted?” You asked. Your tone had fallen considerably lower. It sounded seductive, even, “May I sing your praises, James?”

March had never heard you speak in that tone before. He hadn't realized you were even capable.

Wordlessly, he nodded. You gave a few more firm strokes of his cock, leaning in to kiss the tip gently. And as the soft wetness of your lips brushed it, you hummed. Reveling in every second you had March like this. Even in such a filthy, perverted position. With the head of his leaking cock at your lips. Your eyes glimmered, acting as windows. And your complete devotion for him shined through like the light of the sun. Holding eye contact (when did you get so good at that?), you generously peppered his cock in mouthy, wet kisses.

“Just let me worship you, James…” You sighed, dragging your free hand down one of his thighs. Your nails drew lines into the fabric, “Let me appreciate you. That’s…really the only thing I could ever ask for.”

He kept watching you, occasionally taking long drags from his cigarette. March found himself in awe of your boldness and honesty. Though, if there was one thing he knew about you for certain. You were always honest with him. Turning your attention to his aching cock, you pushed the head past your lips. You lapped up the bead of precum leaking from the tip, mewling in pure delight. Suckling for a few beats too short, you pulled away by an inch.

“You…are the most gorgeous thing I have ever seen. Did you know that, James? Have I ever told you? I could stare at you all day. Every day. Forever, if you let me. You’ve got the most stunning, beautiful, brown eyes…”

You paused in the midst of your praises to push the tip of his cock past your lips again. Letting your tongue dance around it, you stroked the remaining length with your hand. And just when he thought you might give him more, you pulled away.

“You can’t imagine how thrilling it is to have those ferocious eyes looking down on me right now. Oh, and I absolutely adore your smile. How full your lips are. Kissing them was like a gift of temptation, straight from the depths of hell. And I am in no way deserving of such a thing…”

March was steadily beginning to lose his composure. That calm, unbothered demeanor of his teetered on the edge. Threatening to fall with every cutesy noise you made, and every flick of your tongue. With each confession of your deepest admirations, he felt himself breaking. March knew you loved him. He knew you found purpose in serving him. And yet, somehow, he hadn’t been aware of the extent at which your worship of him ran. He took another drag of his cigarette. March’s free hand found your hair, and his oversized palm settled there. He didn’t yet tug, but merely braced himself.

“No modern man dresses nearly as elegantly as you do. Those men at those high-class fashion shows? The ones they have here? They can’t even begin to compare. It’s almost intimidating…how refined and elegant you truly are.”

You halted your confessions, only to take the entire length of his twitching cock into your mouth. Moaning around it, you sucked hard. Letting your tongue drag along the underside, across pulsing veins. You pulled off all over again. And March’s grip in your hair tightened only slightly. You continued to stroke his cock, spreading the wetness your tongue left behind.

“You’re so intimidating. So good at striking fear into those around you. But, god…it only makes me more attracted to you. You’re intoxicating. I can’t get enough of you…”

Breaking eye contact, you focused on his cock. You stopped to admire the heavy weight of him on your tongue. And you had the nerve to giggle with the innocence of a dame in church. March remained speechless. He stared you down as you took his full length into your mouth again. Your praises fell short for a bit. Instead, you were fixated on pleasuring him with more enthusiasm. Your movements slowly grew rapid. But as you edged him further, you popped off. You nuzzled his soaked, aching cock with your cheek. And once more, you giggled. It was infuriating.

“I wish you could hear your voice. Fuck…your voice. Your accent. It’s to die for!” The smile you gave him radiated purity, and you bit your swollen lip between your teeth, “You’re to die for. Y’know? I’d die for you. Over and over again.”

Dragging your tongue up and down his cock, you peppered it in more, loving kisses. And you fluttered those pretty lashes.

“As many times as you wanted me to. If I could die by your hands, James, I would. If it’d make you happy? If cutting my throat and watching the life drain from my eyes would satisfy you…”

March’s grip in your hair tightened even further, clenching around your soft locks.

Who knew his little goof could be such a shameless sycophant? Groveling over his deviant passions.

He was growing immensly impatient. You’d carried on this little charade of praises for far too long. When you lowered your mouth over his cock, March guided you. With the rough hold he had on your head, he forced you down. The action caught you by surprise. As the tip of his cock pressed into the back of your throat, you gagged, squeezing around the head. And a pleased grunt erupted off March’s tongue, cigarette smoke rising from his lips. Reaching over the arm of the loveseat, he put the cigarette out in an ashtray. And while doing so, March kept his half-lidded eyes, dark as burning coals, on you. His throbbing length filled your throat, and you took all of it. Every inch. You squeezed his thigh hard with a hand, letting your fingernails dig into the fabric of his trousers. As you clawed at his thigh for purchase, a wicked grin spread across his face. Salty tears stung your pretty eyes. They poured down your flushed cheeks completely out of your control. An embarrassing display. March’s breathing picked up in pace. He jerked you backwards, pulling you off his cock by your hair. Generously, he allowed you a moment to catch your breath. Not that you needed it, really. Being dead and all. Smirking down at you, he sank his teeth into his lip. And upon his pale cheeks, you caught the slightest hint of a pink hue.

You’d never once seen March blush on account of something you did.

“Y-You were…you were saying, darling?” March, usually so well spoken, stumbled over his words.

With a smile, you returned to your previous motions. Dragging your tongue lazily up and down his cock, you stroked him with a hand.

“U-Uhm…” That timid nature of yours returned. Perhaps on account of his manhandling? But you fought to shake it off, “Y’know somethin’ else I love about you, James? That look in your eye. I can’t even describe it. When you’re feelin’ bloodthirsty? When you’re thinkin’ about unleashin’ hell? You look divine like that.”

His gaze turned colder then. March’s fingers dug fingernails further into your skull. And the gesture was near painful. He didn’t seem to care, even when you hissed in response to the sting. Your puffy lips and mouth were drenched in drool. And your hair! His rough handling left it frazzled and wild. You looked an absolute mess of yourself. And in any other circumstance, March would’ve found it repulsive. At this moment, however…

“That…storm in your eyes. The passion that rages on once you’ve taken the life of another. There’s somethin’ so…irresistible about it. Makes me wish I could’ve dropped on my knees and worshiped you like this sooner.” You covered his cock in those mouthy, sloppy kisses, “I just want to submit myself to you, James. Let you have all of me.”

“Really now? Is that how you feel, little one? Truly? ” He spoke suddenly, catching you by surprise.

His fingers curled harshly into your hair, and he pulled you back in a rough, swift motion.

“Enough of this.” March said, “I realize, I said before, this was your night. And you should be the one calling the shots, with me at your leniency. However, since you seem to want my attention so desperately, darling. You’re going to listen to me now.”

You stared up at him with a wide-eyed, sinless gaze. And you didn't dare to say a single word. Good then.

“On the floor. And strip yourself bare for me, would you?” He commanded.

You let yourself fall backwards. And with the motion, March’s grip in your hair loosened. He let go, keeping his eyes on you, as you scooted back along the carpeted floor. The rough surface burned the skin of your elbows. But in death, it didn’t matter. Come tomorrow, you'd be left with not a single mark. Zero evidence of the night's events. Hastily, you shed your clothes. Your fingers trembled with every movement. March followed, standing slowly from his seat. He watched as you laid yourself naked and bare before him. And he pulled down his suspenders. His pants followed, leaving him in those soft undergarments. March hadn’t yet removed his dress shirt, and he didn’t bother to now.

He dropped to his knees on the floor, crawling over you with an animalistic gaze in his eyes. Immediately upon reaching you, he kissed you deeply. Drinking down every surprised noise you made in response. Your noises. Those mewls and squeals. He wanted to hear more. He had to hear more.

March wasn’t the fondest of missionary. But that devotion, that love, that worship bleeding profusely from your eyes. He didn’t want to miss a single moment of it. March found he needed to look at you. To watch you. His hands trailed down your body, touching you with precise grace. Each touch started with a delicate brush of his fingertips, steadily growing rougher. And there you were, pleasured by the hands of a murderer with almost a hundred years of practice behind him.

As he looked you over with those dark eyes, he could see you slipping so easily into madness. Submitting to him, an eternal ghost of pure malevolence.

And you were pushed even further over the brink once March buried two, long fingers in your cunt. All without a single warning. No preparation. He shoved his digits deep, watching you with a devious smirk. You breathlessly moaned, and your slick walls squeezed around his fingers. March knew every angle at which to twist and press his digits. Only to spur more of those lovely noises out of you.

His long, dexterous fingers pulled themselves from your cunt, and you longed for more. You ached for him, whining pitiful, little protests. And your desperate desire was soon satiated.

In one, rough motion, March forced his cock through your folds. He buried himself deep in a single thrust, growling a rough noise in response to your screams. Instinctively, you wrapped your legs around him. And you pulled March closer, inching him impossibly deeper.

He hadn’t been this…intimate with another person in…what felt like a millenia. Having his cock buried to the hilt in the tight plush of your cunt…it was enough to make him lose it. March had to take a moment to gather himself. Before he began harshly drilling you into the floor. And the rug underneath you burned painfully against your skin. Though, in this position, you couldn’t help but find the sensation extremely gratifying.

Your screams were all the encouragement he needed. And you begged him to fuck you harder. To vent all his pent up anger and fury using your fragile body as his aid. March gazed down at you, his eyes carrying a near sinister edge. The pace at which he fucked you grew vigorous and unrelenting. A jolt of pleasure shot through your core suddenly, as March pressed his deft fingers to your clit. Rubbing slick, generous circles against the sensitive bud, he soaked in the sight of you falling apart underneath him. Your precious moans were like music to his ears. March cooed quiet praises in a rugged voice, encouraging you to give in. To succumb to the sweet allure of release. He knew you needed it desperately. All the pent up desire you'd carried for him for so long must have felt torturous. A man of mercy, he was. He couldn't allow you to suffer like that any longer. Not after all you'd done for him. After having been so loyal.

He felt your release, as it hit you like a rushing wave. Your walls constricted around his cock in a tight pull, and your entire body trembled. Those delightful screams of yours were more than likely heard across every floor of the hotel. But March's mind was much too hazy with pleasure to care. He wanted the world to hear you. For you to let them all know just who it was you'd submitted yourself to entirely. And as you came down from your high, sobbing soft cries. You met his eyes. Tears rained down your cheeks, and you shivered under his cold gaze. How vulnerable you looked...

One of March’s large, veiny hands found your neck. He squeezed with so much strength that, had you been alive; he easily would’ve cut off your circulation. However, in death, the ache that came with asphyxiation felt like euphoria. Under the pressure of his fingers and hands, you were ascending to the stars. Or, rather…considering you were getting mercilessly fucked by a devilish being such as March? Perhaps a more accurate comparison would be: March was dragging you violently down to an all too pleasurable circle of hell itself.

His cock hit your cervix with a few more, harsh thrusts of his hips. And you were left to suffer the ache of overstimulation. As he squeezed your neck hard enough to leave bruises, and tight enough to kill any living person. March reached his peak. A thick warmth burst from his cock, overflowing you from deep inside. His release filled you up until it leaked from your folds. Purity and innocence sullied. You were his little goof now.

You probably expected March to pull out, now that you received exactly what you wanted. Surely, March would move away from you. Only to clean up, redress himself, and go about his business. Keeping his distance until the next month came. And…he thought he’d have done the same. March didn’t care for you on a deep level of any kind. A loyal dog. That’s all you were. A follower. Indeed. A naive, not-so-innocent, little goof. Who also, just so happened to be completely and utterly in love with him.

And March was not at all enchanted by your obsessive devotion. Why would he be? There was only one woman for him. His dearest wife. His Elizabeth. Mrs. March. If anything, you were simply a means of distraction. Easy company in light of his most lonesome days. His old friend. You weren’t graceful. You weren’t classy. You were, at your core, his polar opposite. Of course. Yes. In the euphoric haze of post-orgasmic bliss, he'd almost forgotten.

But even so…

March found he couldn’t pull himself from you. For a few moments longer, he kept his softening cock buried inside your slick walls. There he rested, on his knees, staring down at you from above. His gaze was much less blackened. Instead, replaced with a warm brown. Leaning forward, March buried his flushed face in your shoulder. He nibbled the gentle skin of your collarbone, breathing out his exhaustion.

He chuckled a hushed, but maniacal noise. The vibrations of which tickled your bruised skin. Not to worry, those bruises wouldn’t be there tomorrow. Some possessive part of him wished they would be, though. March raised his head up, looking down into your eyes with a soft, more than satisfied smirk. The curls of his hair fell even more loose upon his head. And once more, he leaned in, only to brush his nose against yours.

“You know…” He mumbled in a croaky whisper. You felt him slowly, gently thrust his hips forward, “...the night is still young, little one. And there’s so much more the two of us could do together…should you be interested...”

His lips met yours in a kiss far too intimate for a casual session of coitus. And you kissed him nervously back, as though you weren’t allowed to indulge yourself. That familiar sense of naivety and purity claimed you all over again. And for whatever reason, it made March want to kiss you more. To envelop you entirely, all his own. His old friend. His little goof. Poor, not-so-innocent sap.

Maybe he was...a little fond of you.

Only a little.

#james patrick march x reader #james patrick march x y/n #james patrick march x you #jpm x reader #jpm x y/n #jpm x you #smut #american horror story #ahs

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mazeinthemiroh · 1 year

Note

Hello, I love your writing! I saw your SKZ as ex bfs, I was wondering if you'd do an Ateez as ex bfs?

ateez as ex boyfriends

genre: headcanon; angst, hurt

word count: 1.5k

warnings: angstyyyy, hongjoong's one hurts the most imo but they're all pretty heartbreaking so have fun ig 🫠

hongjoong

the bitter one

he's not toxic in any way, but he just feels a lot of resentment about the whole situation

why be in a relationship for so long if it was just bound to fail?

he would feel like he has wasted precious time. but, most importantly, he would feel like it would be his fault

where did he go wrong? could he have somehow managed to salvage this relationship? be more attentive, perhaps?

there are so many questions that swirl around in his head. they distract him from his work for a while, which makes him more exasperated because now he's wasting more time and energy thinking about something he can't even change!

he can't help be feel emotionally frustrated

has cried multiple times in the studio when he's by himself, mainly because you used to accompany him late at night when everyone had gone. now he's by himself...

and if he finds out his ex has started dating someone else, he thinks he's officially hit rock bottom

seonghwa

the wistful one

seonghwa has the tendency to reflect and reminisce on the good times

and in this case, he ends up hurting his own feelings a lot more

because focusing on the past makes you less appreciative of the present and what he has now

but it's hard to focus on the present when the past was... so good

his brain is constantly filled with all the good times he had with you. every date you went on, every present you got him; when you smiled every time he complimented you; the way you laughed at his dorky jokes; the way you indulged all his hobbies and interest, watching his favourite movies and even building legos with him.

and now you're not in his life at all. so how, just how could he possibly focus on the present when everything that happened once before was like pure magic

he's in an impossible situation, and all he feels like doing is crying whilst thinking of you

there is a massive gap in his heart where you should be

yunho

the one who jokes around

so i feel like this will solely depend on what type of breakup you guys have had

if it's a seriously bad breakup involving arguments, crying and overall angst, he's not going to joke around about it. he will most likely be quite sensitive about it actually, and not want anyone to mention it

but if it's a mutual breakup, or you guys have just found that your difference has brought you apart and it's best to go your separate ways, something like that, then he will cope with the breakup much better

he's not one to be negative. he thinks, in this situation: if it's not meant to be, then it's not meant to be! no good being sad all the time when you could move on and try to think of the positives

will make jokes about the breakup or different aspects of the relationship - not to shun or disrespect you in any way, just to make light of it

if you're still in his friendship circle, he will definitely do this in front of you, in hopes you would join in and make fun of how you both used to be

it's one of his ways of coping and if you can join in with his jokes, then it's much, much easier for him

yeosang

the self-contained one

he keeps to himself about the matter

none of the members seems to know how he feels after the break-up - not even wooyoung, who continuously shows concern and wants him to confide in him!

but yeosang stays quiet. he just wants to forget about the whole ordeal and feels that talking about it will make it worse

which of course makes the others worry about him more so it kind of works at his disadvantage anyway

the members look out for him regardless of his choice, keeping a close eye on him to see if he's okay

but he doesn't act anything out of the ordinary. on the contrary, he is quite his normal self

however, he seeks to be alone. and when he is alone, he tends to get lost in his thoughts... which almost always makes him cry because all his thoughts go back to you

it's a vicious circle and he knows deep down he should talk to someone about his feelings

and he eventually does, most likely going to wooyoung or seonghwa, because he trusts their advice and knows he can vent to them safely, without any judgement

san

the one that doesn't give up

in the early parts of the breakup, san was, understandably, an emotional mess

his heart was hurting tremendously because of the thought of not being with you, and losing the special relationship you guys had. it ruins him. its something he wouldn't even dare to imagine - and now it's his reality

he really doesn't know what to do with himself

weeks would elapse with san slowly trying to heal himself of this heartbreak

but then, as he's staring at his reflection in the mirror - the bloodshot eyes filled with tears once again - his eyebrows arch downwards. this isn't what he wants. no. this wasn't going to happen. not if he had anything to say about it

he was going to try and win you back

if this meant putting on a grand gesture, gatsby style, in order to get your attention? he'll do it. if this meant making you jealous by pretending to be interested in someone else? he'll do it. he'll fight all that he can if he has to

if you knew anything about san, it is that he is very determined. very stubborn. he is not one to give up. not without a fight

mingi

the hoarder

well...

mingi is gonna be sad for a long time, let me tell you that.

and he doesn't admit it but it's plain as day

he can keep denying it to his friends, his family, the other members, etc... but it's so obvious that he is hurting inside and he's really fooling no one

and if it wasn't the glazed look in his eyes that gave him away, it was his hoarding of your stuff

the necklace you left in his room now permanently sits around his neck, the pretty metal falling close to his heart, where you still were

your hoodie he would wrap around himself as if it were you around him

and even sleep with it, the smell a comforting reminder of being once loved by you, even if that was not the case anymore

he knows it's not healthy to not let go, but how could he?

it was too soon for him, way too soon

so for now, he will indulge in these comforts for as long as he has to. he doesn't care how long it takes for him to get over you.

wooyoung

the one in denial

he refuses to admit that he misses you

hell, sometimes he refuses to admit he even loved or cared about you. which of course, is the biggest lie he's ever told

on the outside, it seemed that wooyoung had moved on quickly. perhaps too quickly, some would say...

because of this, the members would check up on him more often after the breakup, but he always shrugged them off.

"i'm fine" he'd say with a small grin "one partner out of the way, i guess. and i've got a long line of more still to come!"

he would say that he's excited about being single again so he can enjoy getting attention. all the attention he had before he started dating you

he likes having his freedom back

confirmed bachelor ✅

but deep down he is hurting. deep down he knows that no one will ever be able to take your place.

and he tries to fill that void and forget and deny but he can't sustain that. oh no; he wants you back.

jongho

the content one

he's quite similar to yunho in the sense that his response to the breakup will solely rely on the situation

but in most situations, he's quite a calm ex. doesn't do anything too crazy. of course, he's sad the relationship didn't work for the both of you, though. and there are aspects of the relationship he would miss a lot

but he would be grateful for the experience and what you have taught him about himself, along the way

alexa, play thank u, next by ariana grande

no, but seriously, he takes his experience from your relationship as something to learn from before entering his next relationship, you know?

he will evaluate what he had done wrong or what he could've done better, stuff like that...

so overall, he recovers from the breakup quite positively. out of all the members, he's the most emotionally stable coming out of a relationship.

ateez taglist: @a-wandering-stay, @xlovehwa, @yeosangsbiceps, @anyamaris, @acciocriativity, @hawaiian-angel, @chammak-challokys

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plscallmeeren · 8 months

Text

H A T E S E X

Hermione J. Granger x Male Reader

Request: nope and it worries me

Summary: Hermione kisses Ron (and cheats on you) to make you jealous and she has it coming... this is filthy shit it's kinda a drabble I originally wrote for kinktober on here so that explains it ig

Warnings: swearing; top!reader; bottom!Hermione; fingering (her receiving); degradation; vip; mentions of cheating; unprotected sex; tiny bit of bondage; yelling, fighting

Word Count: 1.2K+

Prompts used: Hate / Angry Sex | Degradation

"It's not my fault you're so fucking proud!"

"What, so you just thought 'hey! Why not kiss another guy right in front of me'? What the hell is wrong with you?"

"No, what's wrong with you! Since I became a hero after the war, everyone is pining over me. Everyone! You hear me?"

"Oh, you're so arrogant," you scoffed, shaking your head.

"Well, maybe I am! But I chose you. You out of everyone else I could've had. So why won't you even have sex with me? It's been over a month!"

"Are you seriously trying to guilt-trip me right now?"

She didn't answer. You stood across from each other, panting slightly, glaring, the door to your shared dorm room locked and sound-proofed so that no one would overhear your heated debate.

"Fine. I'm not good enough for you, obviously. So... I guess you'll have to grace someone else with your presence. Maybe even Ronald Weasley." The oncoming silence was deadly calm, and you heard her every breath, maybe even her heartbeat.

You headed to the door - heavy steps - falling like boulders just to make sure she realised how badly she had fucked up.

And she knew it. You could see it in her every weary glance towards your heading, every nervous twitch, every licking of her moist lips.

Presently, she jumped ahead of you, looking up with defiance in her eyes.

"Get out of my way," you growled, but not making any gesture to use force.

"No."

"Hermione." She shivered at the low rasp of her name - cold and dangerous.

"Make me."

You crashed your lips down to hers at the common phrase, gripping the sides of her face to hold her steady as she was pressed against the door.

You eventually let go of her, saw her yearn for more, realise you had led her away from your exit plan. Just as you were about to open it and quickly escape, she grabbed ahold of your tie, which spun around, tightening around your neck.

"What, you're gonna choke me now? Hide the evidence that someone dumped you?"

"Maybe. If you're not careful."

You slowly turned around, gaze like fire on Hermione's pale skin. She trembled but hardly noticed.

In one swift movement the tie was pulled over your head and you had an iron grip on her wrists, pressing her front into your own as you tied them with said tie. She gazed up at you with a strange sort of admiration.

"I'm leaving. I'm gonna talk to McGonnagle. I won't be coming back."

She cried out a pathetic 'no, please don't', and for some reason that had you dead in your tracks at the open door.

"Why shouldn't I, darling?"

"Because I love you."

"No, you don't."

"I do. Please. Just... one more time to convince you? Maybe you've forgotten how good I am...?"

You turned again, and noticed with a pang of despair that you had turned too often already. Yet it was dull and buried near the back of your mind and you couldn't find it in you to care.

"Yeah? You always wanted me to be rougher, right?" You approached her, looking down at her as you shoved her harshly down onto the bed. Her lips parted and her eyes were dark. You scoffed. "Well, slut... that won't be a problem no more."

She whimpered delightfully and next thing you knew you were on top of her, ravaging her with your lips in a frenzied manner you never had before. Her back arched as she writhed at your open-mouthed antics, panting heavily as you ripped off one article of clothing and another, holding no regard for the clothes you might have damaged.

You spread her legs roughly once you had rid her of tights and skirt and panties, wasting no time on romantics. She squirmed even more when you pushed four fingers into her cunt - no time to retaliate, no time to adjust - more fingers than ever before.

She whined pathetically, moan after moan slurring from her pretty little mouth pornographically at the painful pleasure you were dealing her pussy while you bit and sucked at her tits in a primitive fashion. Your thumb rubbed over her clit in quick circles as your other hand groped her left breast with little regard for the pressure it was practicing.

You came up for air, placing your knees on her thighs so she would stop writhing to a point where it was hard for your digits to pound into her. "Is this what you wanted, bitch? This what your little cunt was so needy for that it went and fucked Weasley? Well, this is what you get for letting another guy fuck you. You'll never get these fingers again, so cherish them."

Hermione was practically screaming, a never-ending wail of ecstasy pooling at her lips while her eyes watered, only interrupted by the occasional 'please, daddy' or 'it's all for you, baby'.

Her hair was tangled, mascara smudged from the odd tear, lips wide open, back arched, legs shaking, inner thighs slick with her own pre-cum.

"I'm gonna cum inside you, sweetheart," you purred, leaning down to her ear, "and I'm not gonna let you get pregnant, because you don't deserve my baby."

She whined loudly, clenching her walks around your fingers. You loved the difference between you and her. Hermione, entirely naked, vulnerable, powerless, while you still stood fully clothed and relatively well-kept apart from the missing tie and dripping fingers currently stretching the inside of a woman's cunt.

With one final guttural moan, she came around you just as you pulled out your dick and replaced your fingers with it, stretching her even wider at her climax. You fulfilled your promise, not leaving her pussy as you both panted heavily.

"Will you please stay? That was amazing," she whispered, almost out of breath.

"You don't deserve it. I'll be here in an hour or two with the potion equivalent of the morning-after pill and maybe, if you're lucky, I'll fuck you again. But that won't mean you deserve a second of it, love."

You finally pulled out of her, sticking your fingers into her mouth for a second to let her lick you clean before pulling up the zip of your pants and walking out the door.

She struggled against the tie still bound around her wrists. You had never left her after sex without looking after her extensively. You certainly would never have left her in this uncomfortable position for an unknown amount of time.

But Hermione found she didn't particularly mind waiting an hour or so here to see if you would return and make her cum again.

No, not at all.

#fanfic #fanfiction #new chapter #romance #harry potter #hermione granger #hermione x reader #male reader #smut #harry potter smut #harry potter fanfiction #degradative #angry smut #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry

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sanaxo-o · 1 month

Text

We can’t be friends (Kevin Moon)

Warnings/genre: ah well lovers to strangers, misunderstandings, angst, hurt comfort at the end ig? Not proofread so let me know if there should be any corrections. Plz let me know if more warnings or anything should be here.

Word count: 1,340

Sana: I am back (only for a while lmao) and I present you my first ever Kevin Moon fic which I am slightly proud about. I had to write on we can’t be friends because yes. Like the song is just so SHSHSHDJD it’d be a crime if I did not do anything considering I am known (I like to believe that) for my fics which are inspired by songs. My all time favourite beta reader izzy is not available so no proofread because yas 👏. And a huge thanks to @mosviqu bar for making the banner despite it getting on her nerves. Love you loads mwah.

Tagging: @mosviqu @kimsohn @cloverdaisies

@o-onikix @quaissants @deoboyznet

🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸

Date: March 30th 2024

Sitting in the corner of the room you stare at all the people mingling with each other, laughing and giggling as if everything is normal and going oh so well in their lives when in fact it’s crumbling apart.

Taking a sip of the beer which was almost over you look around the room once again when your eyes meet his, staring at you from across the room.

You could feel your heart beating again, the way it started beating loudly made you scared, not because you feared him but because you feared yourself.

You swore to yourself that you had moved on from him. After everything you both went through, you thought it’s better if you stayed just as friends but you yourself knew that you both cannot be friends.

Every passing second of the day made you loathe him more, not because he was your ex but because he just decided to give up on your relationship just like that when you decided it was the end.

Keeping the can of bear on the nearest table you found you grabbed your coat and walked away from there. Not being able to sit there and act as if everything was alright when it in fact was not. You knew it was not, he knew it was not.

Date: March 20th 2024

Sitting on the bed you hold the necklace in your hand as you take in a deep breath. You hated arguing with him, in fact you hated when you would snap at each other simply because you both would bottle up your feelings.

The countless misunderstandings you both went through meant nothing at this point when your whole relationship is tearing apart like this.

“What’s the point?” You hear Kevin mumble briefly as he sits up from his lying position and places his head in his hands.

You could feel your heart breaking when you heard his voice for the first time ever since the argument you both had in the living.

You muster up the courage and strength to speak as you let out the words which were oh so irritating for someone in his shoes because of the obliviousness “What do you mean?”

You close your eyes when you hear Kevin let out a scoff, “You know what I mean, this is not working out. Whatever we have going on, none of it is working out. We can pretend that it’s all fine but deep down you know nothing is. Let’s stop wasting each other's time and just..end it.” Kevin says that as he stands up from the bed and grabs his coat to walk out of the room.

“Can we still be friends?” You ask him, halting in his steps Kevin turns around and lets out a small sigh when he sees your expectant eyes which were now filled with tears threatening to fall down and roll down your cheeks.

“We can’t be friends..” he says as he leaves the room and slams the door of your house shut.

You sit there in silence as you look around the room, on this very bed you celebrated your 20th birthday with him.

“We can’t be friends, but I’d just like to pretend…” you mumble to yourself as you bring your legs to your chest and let your tears fall down.

Date: March 30th 2024

Time: 12:47 PM

Walking down the street you hug yourself closer as you look up at the sky, it was empty which made you smile but it had no feelings.

You stop walking when you hear footsteps behind you, turning your head you could feel your face stiffening when you see Kevin running in your direction.

“Are you going back home?” He says once he is in front of you. Giving him a single nod you start walking again, not being able to stare at him for another second.

Walking in silence you stare at the ground while kicking the stones on the sidewalk. Taking in a deep breath you look up at Kevin who was walking beside you.

In his words he just wanted to make sure you reached home safely. Hence, the reason he decided to accompany you.

“Do you regret it?” You ask suddenly. You notice Kevin stopping in his tracks for a moment only to walk again as he tries to act nonchalant.

“Regret what?” He asks softly as he looks down at you, his eyes looking like daydreams. You still remember how you always felt seen and heard at night.

For you night is when you can finally be yourself, you don’t have to hide yourself anymore.

“Us breaking up…”

Letting out a deep breath Kevin looks at you with a small smile as he holds your hand guides you towards the end of the footpath to sit down on the ground.

“We needed to put an end to our story Y/N…I did not want to continue feeding on the monstrous fire which was increasing day by day. It’s difficult, yeah…but that’s the best for us.” He says softly as he holds your hands in hid for comfort.

“It’s hard. Really hard. I don’t know how you’re acting all fine..” you tell him as you pull your hand away from him.

“I am not fine if that’s what you’re wondering. I tell myself countless times to just wait for you to come back but then I was the one who broke up with you. I wish we could still be friends but I cannot get myself to do it. I cannot pretend to be your friend when I know I want more than that.” He says as he lets out a small sob.

“I can wait for you. I can wait for your love, I can do that..” you say as you try to stop yourself from crying over this again.

Shaking his head he lets your hand go as he stands up and helps you stand up.

“Can I just say one thing?” You say softly, your words coming out slurred as the alcohol starts getting to you. Giving you a small nod he helps you walk towards your house, “Know that you made me the happiest person when we were together. I couldn’t ask for more than what we had…it feels like you left me hanging by myself but I know I would have to move on and let this story die.”

You say everything in one go as you cough and hiccup. You notice Kevin opening his mouth to speak again but you stop him by putting your finger up telling him that you want to continue and that you’re not done yet, “For now, it’s only me but…but I’d like to pretend that we’re still friends, okay?” You say as you look at him with your expectant eyes.

“Okay…whatever you say..” he says softly as he looks down at your shining eyes which were staring back up at him. “Maybe that’s all you need to move on from me..” he says, mostly to himself but you catch onto it but he doubts you’d remember all this in the morning tomorrow.

Reaching your door steps he helps you stand straight as he looks through your bag to find your keys.

“You keep on clinging to your papers and pens, yeah?” You say softly in a joking manner as you enter the house and slam the door shut on his face.

Letting out a small chuckle Kevin looks at your door as he takes a step back, stuffing his hands in his pockets he takes a one last look at your door and walks away.

That’s an end to a story then, something which was bittersweet. There are some moments he wishes he could forget all together but most of them are the ones he cherishes the most and that’s what matters to him.

You guys maybe strangers to each other now but the time you both spent as lovers was some of the most valuable ones.

🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸

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loveemagicpeace · 6 months

Note

what do u think of this combo in a relationship?

guy: aries rising & sun aqua moon pisces venus cap mars

girl: pisecs rising sag sun cap moon sco venus & mars

I am going to be honest. I don't think this guy can be very committed in relationship maybe commitment issues can be present because of Capricorn Venus a lot of people who have Capital Venus can have commitment issues or they have hard time trusting people. But he has Cap Mars that can be very committed and can be very down to the earth know what they want because Mars is your reactions and your decisions and how you do things how you on react things. But maybe he can be prone to give up quickly because he don't like wasting time. Also he can have a lot of focus on himself and can be very independent person because of Aries Rising and all the other signs so he can be pretty much oriented in the career work and stuff that includes him. Also he has venus conj mars- which means that as a person he is very picky in love (that when he wants something he have to get it and it have to be exactly as he imagined). Many times he may have a specific style that he likes. Also he can be emotional because of Pisces Moon and can show his emotions very openly and very nice but depends on the house.

Your Asc conj his moon- this can feel like a romantic movie come to life because there is a deeper connection and nothing is superficial. Moon feels understood and the Ascendant feels validated by them.

You moon conj his venus & mars- moon conj mars- u two can quickly quarrel and conflict can quickly arise. Love-hate relationship. Moon conj venus- very nice aspect! U two enjoy each other's company and feel at home when the other is around. Plus, this synastry match creates a strong foundation of friendship underneath all the romance.

This is my link to readings—>

Also u can follow me on ig-bekylibra☺️

#astrology #energy #zodiac signs #synastry houses

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sleepingstarrynightz · 2 years

Text

Dinner With a Stranger - T.N ❥

Part 2 ❁

Summary: Theo looked for you, a whole month after your first encounter. Basically it's just him being hopeless.

Genre: Fluff

Mentions: food, cute stuff ig but not smut...yet ;)

This has taken me forever omgggg i am so sorry i hope whoever reads it likes it though! I will most likely be writing a part 3 much longer and with more detail. I still don't know how i feel about this one lol.

---

Theo was not a patient person, maybe because of the fact that there weren't many occasions in which he needed to be. But for four weeks now he tested himself every Wednesday at 9pm. The routine was always the same, he'd show up at the coffee shop and order a random pastry but always the same drink, he sat in a table meant for two with a book in hand that was always different even if he couldn't read a single page while he waited with anticipation in the hopes that this time you would show up.

Every Wednesday, Theodore waited for three hours to see if you would show up. One hour before 10 and one hour after, giving you that window of time to present yourself.

For four weeks he sat patiently and for four weeks you did not show yourself.

It was foolish really, he thought. To wait for four weeks for a girl he only met once, hoping she might remember him enough, care enough about anything he said, and try to find him. That thought was pathetic though and he felt like an idiot every time he left.

You didn't show but every week, Wednesday would return and so would his hope. Today, of course was Wednesday and he was once again in his best outfit, ready to make the best impression he possibly could in the now unlikely scenario that you may show up.

Everyone noticed that he would try harder to look better on Wednesday and the way he looked disappointed at night when he got home. They noticed that his mood would change for a few days and then Wednesday he was himself again.

A knock came to his door, stopping his nervous pacing. "Come in."

Blonde hair showed itself and in came Daphne. "Hey Theo. You're leaving again?" She asked, still standing by the door.

"Not sure yet."

"It's not my business, I know that but why do you go out every Wednesday only to leave yourself returning worse than when you left?" Nobody knew where he went or why he did it.

"You're right Daph, it is none of your business." He smiled sarcastically.

"Look, there's no need to be rude, I'm just worried about you is all. We all are." She snapped while trying her best to remain calm.

"Did you have another reason for coming here?" He sighed.

"Come out with us tonight instead, I think it would be good for you. Whatever it is, is clearly not worth it." He didn't say anything.

"Is he coming?" Lorenzo's voice interrupted from behind the door.

"Are you coming?" Daphne asked hopefully.

He did not go, he thought one last final chance would be enough, this one would be a sign because it had been a month. Yes, he felt like a weirdo, and he was a bit annoyed with himself, but this was truly the last time, he promised himself.

But as he met with the familiar street, he didn't find it in him to go inside. It was past nine now and he had been wandering the streets, they were usually quieter here. He stood across the street from the cafe and people came and went but none of them were you, and none of them were going to be you he finally understood.

He gave it one last glance before checking the time only to realize how quickly the time had passed. It was well after 10 now and he had yet again wasted more time for some stranger he only met once.

He couldn't say he knew you.

His footsteps felt loud as he walked away, just wanting to be home now, but he heard the faint call of his name. Convincing himself it was his imagination, but your voice rang in his ear again. "Theo." You shouted, a bit out of breath and he finally turned around, his heart racing.

"y/n." He finally said as you stood in front of him, your name felt nice on his tongue, it was the first time he had said it out loud in a month. "You're out quite late, are you alright?" He asked, trying to focus on the concern he held for you before his excitement. The concern felt more like a cover up of his excitement.

"Yeah, what a coincidence right?" You chuckled awkwardly.

No. He thought.

"I'm alright though, thanks for asking." You smiled brightly, up at him. You glanced down at the time on your watch and then back up at him. "Want to get some food?" You asked uncomfortably, like you were scared he might say no, completely unaware that he would never even consider denying you. He had waited a month for this.

"I'd love to."

You mumbled a quick 'great', turning on your heel in the opposite direction from which you came from. "I know this nice restaurant; it stays open till very late. It's not too far from here." He followed you quietly. "Sorry I screamed at you like an insane person, it took me 3 minutes to find the courage to call to you." You admitted, and instantly regretted.

"So, you had been stalking me 3 minutes prior?" He asked, stopping in his tracks. You stopped with him and tried to collect yourself. "I'm only joking, I'm flattered." He chuckled.

You laughed, but silently cursed yourself for what you had said. You did sugarcoat when you said 3 minutes and wonder what he would have said if you had told him, it had actually been 10 minutes of you walking back and forth in the street behind him, thinking of a million ways to start a conversation.

"Uh...you know...I'm glad I ran into you today." You admitted just as you approached the restaurant.

He was glad the silence of the world was gone, and the sound of many conversations drowned out the quick beating of his heart. It meant he could play the part of a nonchalant boy again, so you wouldn't be scared away. "Whys that?"

There were many ways to answer, and you chose the vaguest response you could. "Just because." You shrugged with a smile. "A table for two please."

---

"So, Theo. We've hung out twice and I've yet to find out your last name. Is it a mystery?"

He smirked. "It's Nott." He bit back a laugh.

"So, what is it?" You raised an eyebrow as he let out a small giggle, at his own joke.

"No, it's literally Nott. Theodore Nott." He smiled at you.

You rolled your eyes at him but couldn't help the smile. "Ah, I like it. Common and unique all at the same time." You spoke.

"And yours?" He asked still smiling.

"Y/l/n."

He hummed in response and smiled at you, ready to speak until his eyes landed on the people behind you and went wide eyed. He did try to look away, hoping they wouldn't notice him, but he knew it would be impossible.

Lorenzo laughed loudly with Blaise until he spotted Theo. "Nott! Hi!" He waved and you turned to look behind you then back at Theo who had a hand on his head, lowering it to cover his mouth. There was a small smile hiding, one of embarrassment it seemed.

"Guys look its Theo!" Blaise teased, clearly noticing Theo's annoyance.

They walked towards the two of you and then Daphne appeared behind them along with Pansy. They stood in front of your table and suddenly you felt a bit uncomfortable. The restaurant had the occasional noisy chatter but not like this.

"So, this is where you disappear to every Wednesday." Lorenzo winked at Theo and you eyed him suspiciously before Pansy caught your attention which he was grateful for.

"You look a bit familiar." She said staring at you.

"I do?" You questioned.

She shrugged. "Maybe. But I'm also kind of tipsy." She let out a small giggle.

"You alright Theo?" Daphne intervened, with a much more harsh tone. It seemed like she was angry at him but it wouldn't have made much sense if she had been.

"Great, yeah." Theo said trying his best not to pay much attention to her.

Blaise coughed awkwardly. "Are you guys almost done?"

"Um..." He hummed, looking at you, noticing your discomfort. "Almost yeah." He replied.

Lorenzo reached for the great that the two of you had barely touched, in the middle of the table. "Great! We can all go out then! Invite her over, we can hang out." He said in between bites.

"Right...these two are my roommates." Theo said pointing to Blaise and Lorenzo.

There was a feeling he got when you smiled up at his friends, it was genuine despite how nervous you obviously were. "It's nice to meet you guys, I'm y/n." You replied.

"I'm Pansy, that's Daphne, Blaise, and Lorenzo." Pansy said stretching her hand out for you to take, which you gladly did.

You eyed them all quickly before looking back at Theo who was already looking at you. He might have thought it to be fate the way your heart jumped at the same time as his, had. You would have hoped it was. "Well, I don't want to bother so I will let you continue with your plans." You tried to say mostly to him, but it was practically impossible to do so.

"Okay!" Daphne finally smiled.

Whilst at the same time Lorenzo spoke, drowning out what the blonde had said but Theo knew you had heard her. "No, it's not a bother at all. If anything, it would be nice, Theo is barely around these days." Lorenzo said much more sternly now.

Your eyes searched Theo's again, looking for the right response, a help in a choice to make. "You don't have to if you're not comfortable with it, but it would be nice." Nobody had ever heard Theo be so gentle with anyone and it made them wonder.

The phone flashed on your lap and your heart jumped out of your chest. Glancing down at it, to see it read...

Ex: "Hey, I just wanted to make sure you're okay. I miss you."

Theo made a noise catching Daphne's attention, to look away from your lap.

"Okay. Yeah, I'll come. If it's really okay." You smiled and he thought that if he wasn't already sitting his legs would have given out.

"Of course, it's okay!" Pansy exclaimed already helping you get all your stuff ready.

"Of course." Theo whispered like he didn't know what to say, which he didn't. It made him a little mad at himself, at the way he lost the confidence he had the first night.

Theo's heart skipped a beat when he realized the restaurant wasn't the end. He had waited a month for you, for this, for a stranger he had only met once.

---- t a g s ----

@siriuslydestiny @pink-hufflepuff

#theo nott #theodore nott #theodore nott fluff #theo nott x reader #theodore nott x y/n

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nanamishorecumslut · 4 months

Text

The other woman

description: You and nanami are in an arranged marriage, but he doesn't love you. As for you, you do love him. Love him so much that you let him cheat on you. After some years you are miserable and unhappy, all of this is just hell. But what can you do? You love so much.

warnings: cheating nanami x fem reader!, angst, sadness, broken heart, that bitch from the bakery, bad writing, delusion(maybe), from cuquett to emo, not proofread, lana lyrics, arranged marriage(?) (some are warning some are not okey?)

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

reader pov

Some people say that finding love is like the lottery. If you get lucky you'll win. And even if you don't win there's going to be a price. That's just how life works, some people win, but at what cost? They find their person, that human that makes them feel like paradise and are overall loved in every way. Sometimes your person belongs to someone else and not you.

I remember like it was yesterday, the day my parents presented me to Nanami Kento. That day our arranged marriage began, flowers, different cake flavors, dresses and so many things only I could ever imagine. Through this process Nanami seems to be interested, excited even, but one day that would all change. I remember how he looked at the girl from the bakery, it was like love at first site. After that day Nanami insisted on going more. I didn't mind because my heart was throbbing with love. Love that has developed in a very short amount of time.

Some time after the wedding Nanami spent less time at home and when he was at home we didn't cross eyes. I later discovered that he was cheating, and the girl? Well it was the girl from the bakery. I was destroyed, heart broken. I love Nanami, but he did not love me. Every song I heard, the flower from the garden, even the strawberry reminded me of him. I can't leave him. I love him so much that it hurts, so what did I do? I never confronted the cheating which I regret.

For years the only thing Nanami ever did was leaving the house with a small good bye, and at night he'll come back just to eat and sleep. I tried making conversation but it was worthless. Our time in bed was as bad. The only time we ever had sex was on our wedding night. That was the only time we ever did such an act, and he made sure to let me know that it was the only time he'll do it. I asked him why and he told me that he didn't want to do it,not with me at least.

At some point Nanami didn't even bother to go home. I was there, lonely, with no one by my side. Maybe loving him was never enough. Today some paper was on my door, it was divorce paper. I knew this day was coming, so why am I so sad, heart broken. All of this hurt me so bad but why did it feel like true love? Nanami was never home so why did I love him so much?

Love can be tricky if you don't know how to love. I hate myself for wasting so many years. Maybe I didn't love Nanami, maybe I just love the fantasy I created in my own head about this marriage. Was I even married? If only I'd known about all of this, possibly my life wouldn't be this miserable.

____________________________________________

an: damn this is sad even for me likeeeee. Also I refuse to be aesthetic cuss Im not like other gorls. Okey no I just want some of my humor in my post ya know?. This is my second time writing something and I think Im getting the hang of it (no Im not but ig I'II learn or smth)

#nanami kento #heart been broke so many times #jjk #nanami x reader #sad #i love nanami but i was feeling angsti #sorry to the bakery girl for calling her a bitch #i love lana del rey #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu nanami #jjk nanami #dislexia #second post #this is bad #emo #humor

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addcests · 2 months

Text

a family is you, and you, and :: ch5 - ao3 mirror

pairing the addcest is there if you believe

words 5475

rating [T]

summary "Hey, Dominator, where's Psyker?" It's an innocent question, at first. And then it rings, rings, rings through Dominator's mind constantly, like an incessant nagging that he doesn't want to quite acknowledge presently. Not yet. So he doesn't. "He's out." It's not a complete lie, anyway. --- If you'd ask each Add what family meant, they'd have similarly different answers. A contradiction in and of itself—a testament to the very conception of their existence. Yet, there lies one thing wholly similar; a conviction all three share: they'd fight for their family. And now they must.

note woo boy that sure was a ride when i said things wouldn't happen ig i kind of lied sorry! LMAO but! at least i made up for this chapter with this whoping 5.4k words! anyway, the first scene was really fun to write... ! <3 i love giving dom hope also can't wait to snatch it from him! <333 and trouble in paradise... if it's not one thing with these adds it's another smh :/ but! all will be well! eventually, maybe, hopefully! thanks for reading <3

There were two truths when it came to the Diabolic Esper.

One: he does not sleep.

When the power of time control dangles along your fingertips, one sort of abates the need for sleep.

“Slipped my mind,” he'll too cheerfully, too dismissively answer Psyker or Mastermind as he slithers past their disapproving and worried looks.

It is pretty commonplace, after all, around the Add household to forego sleep in pursuit of one’s goals.

And yet, like the very laws of time he defies, Esper, who does not sleep, slept. Very deeply, at that.

—the other, second truth: Esper did not dream, because while others were blessed with lulling dreams, he was cursed to have nightmares in return. Perhaps it is the nature of his psyche, twisted and tormented as it was, or it is a side effect of something as unnatural as time traveling all these years, or maybe it is the few pockets of sleep he manages to nestle in once every blue moon. Maybe it is all of it or maybe it is none of those reasons at all.

And yet, regardless of the reasons, if any, Esper, who does not dream, dreams.

Reasons aside, all Esper knows is that once he opens his eyes he can see that he is currently standing in a vast field, surrounded by an explosion of breathtaking anemones.

Mother's flower.

It was such a gorgeous landscape. No matter which direction he chooses, there is nothing but a stretch of anemones, pure and white.

A beautiful innocence flooded with white and as gorgeous as far as the eye could see.

Esper bends at the knee, reaching to pluck a handful into his grasp. He holds them tenderly, with loving care and is immediately overwhelmed by its scent: a deep earth-like woodsy smell, tinged with a hint of something citrus-like. Inhaling and closing his eyes, even in this dream, he could never forget the times he would enter Mother's study and catch a hint of these flowers lingering on her clothes, or on her hair, or on her hands. From holding the flowers alone, the scent became stronger, almost overpowering all his other senses.

For Esper, it is a comfort and core memory, he feels as if he could just close his eyes…

Indeed, his eyes grow heavy, and soon, he drops to both knees, barely keeping upright. And yet, despite this sudden sap of strength, the flowers were a calming lull…

“Mother…”

A shard reflecting Grace drifts into view.

He begins to sag further still, placing a palm on the ground to keep himself upright, trembling and again struggling to breathe…

He didn't have time to waste here… ! He couldn't afford to sleep. He had to go. He had to go now. He had to get to mother now, right now! Nownownow—

More white shards appeared, all with Grace.

His heartbeat accelerates as his thoughts begin to race and race as he continues to struggle, and continues to panic, the shards of Grace swirling erratically around him now. No longer could he focus on the flowers that seemed like an anchor at first, keeping him afloat. What he once thought was his anchor grounding him, it was now dragging him down and he was sinking, sinking…

—and then it all happened so fast.

Everything that occurs next is within mere seconds, yet for one who bends time, all of it at once felt so ironically slow. Amidst the storm of his racing thoughts, a sharp cut of white noise sliced a line through his whirlwind of dread. There was nothing left but an eerie, silent emptiness in his mind for but a nano second, leaving him with no choice but to suddenly hyperfocus on his other senses and surroundings and arrive at the conclusion that he was not alone.

He was being watched all this time.

Though he demands his wretched body to move, he falls limp in place instead; and then, he could hear everything. He was quite keenly aware of the familiar sound of cracking, as if something was bending and breaking.

One final, ear shattering crack—then, from a near distance there was an explosive color of pulsing purple and pink hues, followed by the very space he was occupying fissuring until it cracked, cracked and shattered into fragments, exploding once more. The impact and blasts were so forceful, knocking him back so hard that his ears began to ring, rendering him all but dizzy.

When the ringing finally stops, Esper groans and tries to sit up and finds that he can't; a weight is crushing his chest, preventing him from doing so. Disoriented, he can do little other than fight to force his eyes open, realizing that he's also paralyzed beyond just being held down.

Due to this realization—the comforting aura into terrifying dread—he also confirms he was attacked with—

“—Paranoia,” drawls a mellow, flat voice, “and so, you're still alive…”

As someone well traveled, he's not surprised at all when he finally gathers his bearings and he is met with a face that’s his. But what does surprise him is that it's not a face of his that he recognizes. In that sense, he knows Psyker and Mastermind's face. There are also Psych and Arc's faces, when they were younger. But something already eliminated the fact that it could be either of them: the one, lone black sclera. And this face was much younger, nestled in a distinct cat hoodie, deep and dark purples and not the lightly tinged-purple white he was familiar with during his times as Time Tracer. But something even beyond his attire was quite… different; off, even. “You're not Time, and yet… what an interesting form.”

“And you're here,” he replies back, uninterested.

Esper hacks and coughs, cursing the lingering effects of Paranoia that leave him immobilized still and the foot pressing firm on his chest, pinning him in place. Unable to do much of anything else, a certain gleam catches his eye, from a shard orbiting near this person with his face. The shard is a pearlescent color, pure and white, much like the anemones he's currently crushing. It turns and catches the light, reflecting Grace's face once again.

So, this was this… Add's doing, he'd lulled and trapped him here, but how?

Finally, the offender lifts his foot from Esper’s chest and turns his back carelessly on him, arms outstretched, “This form, this is what you—what we always wanted, wasn't it, Esper?” He tilts his head back, glancing over his shoulder, “For Mother?”

A bright purple begins to shine underneath the other male.

These are their last words as Esper opens up and extends the space directly underneath them, binding him in place as he teleports a safe distance away immediately at the end of Void Field's cast, clenching at and massaging his chest. He takes the moment to steady and stabilize his breath once more.

This Add does little more than flinch under the restraints of the energy of space and then he laughs.

And laughs again, a horrid and annoyingly subdued little thing that only pisses him off.

“So meaningless…”

Esper stands defensive, watching as this shorter Add approaches him, step by unenthused step, long coat tails fluttering behind him in the void. His hand aches, closes and opens, then closes into a fist again as he feels his dynamo nearby. “Speak your purpose or else.”

“I am, yet you won't listen.”

Before Esper could probe himself anymore, he reacts with just enough speed to catch one of those ever-floating shards that his other self just flung at full force towards his face. The shard reflects Mother's serene expression, hand tucking back a strand of hair, frozen in time. Recognizing this, his hold on the shard turns tight-fisted, to the point that he is able to feel the glass dig past the protective barrier of his gloves. Esper is sure if he holds it any tighter, he’d draw blood. He probably does. His grip still tight, he throws a glare to his other self, silently demanding an explanation.

“That's what you wanted, right? Mother?” Again, he prods with the same question, voice indistinct, bearing no emotion that Esper could pick at. “But, ah, that's right, you can't have her.” Making himself comfortable, he kicks back on one of his Dynamo (one that Esper does not recognize), sitting with one leg dangling in the air. Leisurely, he gestures to one of his other fragmented shards as if they had all the time in the world. Droopy eyes regard him for a moment, like he's studying him, trying to figure which piece in the puzzle he'll unlock next, and then he resumes. “Then, maybe this one instead. You'll surely want this more?”

Esper, however, is too distracted to even begin to break down that hard calculating gaze. Again, another shard is sent his way, though it's nudged less aggressively towards Esper this time. When he catches this one, his eyes widen at the reflection as the name tumbles from his lips without his permission, “D-Dominator… ?” As if guilty, for some inexplicable reason, Esper's shocked gaze turns towards this other Add.

In this entire encounter thus far, not a single emotion ran across his other self's face. Until now. It was barely there, but Esper parses the flicker of this Add's lips tugged ever so slightly down as contempt.

“What do you want with Dominator—”

“I'm asking the questions here.” Barely there electricity sparked in agitation from his left eye as he stands once more, striding leisurely towards Esper. He paces until he's directly in front of Esper, about a foot apart and then looks down at Esper’s hands, holding both shards. “Your hands are full.”

Holding both Mother's and Dominator's shards indeed, he looks down to them too and then to him once more. “And?”

Again, this other him laughs. “‘And!’ he says…..” Though lacking its usual manic energy, that was definitely his laugh. This time, he laughs so hard, he throws his head back, hand covering his face, shoulders trembling and shaking his small form. “Of course, I was always so greedy.” Using both hands, he gestures for one shard nearby. This one is bigger. Slowly, it floats into both his hands and he spins it around to face Esper, not quite handing it over to him just yet.

This shard, unlike the other still image ones, is animated: it shows Mastermind brushing Esper's hair tenderly as he sleeps and Psyker, right by his side, hand on Mastermind's shoulder as he watches him sleep also.

As if subconsciously, he immediately moves towards it, expecting to take hold of it like he did the others. But he hardly even makes the complete gesture to reach out for it until it's snatched abruptly and precisely from his space.

“I said your hands are full.”

Eyes wide now, Esper still makes to grab for them both when this other Add floats back and away just as easily on his dynamo. No longer willing to entertain whatever his double wants, he then demands, “Give them to me.”

“Choose.”

Panic pricks at his skin, desperate to have them both back. He yells, “They're mine—!”

Ah, and that was clearly the wrong thing to say—this Add—this person wearing his face, chuckles low and short, clipped. And then he charges faster than he could blink. Panic sets in again for another reason: imminent danger. Esper realizes he has so little time to react. He makes to move, to dodge, to teleport back, but within the supposed safety of the time-rip of his portal, this Add is easily here as well. For the split second Esper has time to think, this answers all of his questions about this encounter. This other Add then quite literally rips him from his own portal, sending him flying, anemones disturbed from their roots, kicking up in the air around him. The two shards, Mother and Dominator, fall from his hands in this scuffle too. When he blinks open his eyes again, he finds himself straining them close and struggling to keep lidded eyes open as he feels a familiar pair of hands wrapped at his throat, pressing hard.

“If they're yours,” an equally familiar voice rasps, much unlike the voice from the smaller one; this one is full of energy, life, determination—crazed and obsessed, snarls back at him, “then give me back what's mine.”

This Add stops pressing long enough for Esper to gasp in a greedy breath of air and out of surprise at the sight before him, “You—from that dream… ! You’re not that child anymore. Who—”

Long, almost tendril like flowing hair (that he had mistaken for Mastermind at that time in the dream), two pair of matching dark depths staring down at him, a form that seems to struggle to manifest yet stubbornly decides to anyway—paradoxical in nature—a shape that towers over him (obviously no longer that child form), especially at this height advantage, and those shards that float by his side have turned from their sincere soft, innocent white but to his usual, signature demented, dark deep pinks.

“You may address me as Paradox,” he grins down at Esper, deranged, flashing him a smile full of threatening teeth. “And you, Esper,” he coos, and then taunts harshly, barking his words at him, “what did you expect?!” A deranged little laugh, colored with disbelief and admonishment escapes past his lips. “Did you expect me to coddle you? After all this time, you still can't pick right and yet,” he narrows his eyes as his grip around Esper’s throat tightens with each following enunciation, “you. Demand. So. Much!” A pair of black sclera narrows dangerously now, all prior amusement fleeing from his face as he glares deep and heavy and full of scorn. He’s so close, his breath tickles his younger self. It’s but a breath’s whisper, yet it is so loud with its dangerous undertone made plain, “I don't coddle failures. So, choose.”

Esper, without much choice, chooses to choke and gasp around the fingers pressing insistently to his throat.

“You want Mother, yet here you are in the future, fiddling where you don't belong. And what of your present? What of them? Are they not precious to you? Will you leave them behind?”

It was one thing to be lectured by someone wearing his face, it was another to have to die pathetically at his hands like this. With that in mind and his remaining energy, he finally manages to summon a couple of Dynamo to fly to his side and rush at Paradox, who was too absorbed in his ministrations and thus easily disengaged and knocked away. His other Dynamo flies to his side protectively; Esper, on one knee, wisely uses this time to regain air into his greedy lungs once more.

With Paradox thrown aside somewhere, and Esper no longer feeling on the verge of passing out from a lack of air, the shard with Mastermind and Psyker that Paradox dropped catches his gaze once more. He can barely make out their conversation, but it was faint. It sounds like they were talking about dinner. Well, Psyker was. But Mastermind was bargaining with him about dessert instead. That sounded so like them. In spite of being literally attacked by, whom he now has enough data and obvious logic to assume is, his future self and almost choked to death, Esper finds comfort in these two's consistent yet easy presence.

The shard that held their mother was inanimate till this point. That is, until he hears a voice coming from it.

”Edward, the present is precious for being the present.”

Still, he turns his gaze towards her, brows knitted with the pain of knowing that she was all alone in the end. He just wanted to save her—even if he knew better… ! He just wanted his mother…

The grief stabs at his heart and he clutches at his chest, as if to ease the pain of it all.

Likewise, the same from Dominator's shard. He, too, hears his voice.

”You know, you shouldn't even be here.”

He holds his hand out for Dominator, deep down wishing Dominator hadn't said that to him back then so many visits ago. He didn't want to leave Dominator alone either! He was in pain and lonely, and Esper was drawn to him… how could he leave him alone?

The grief of his actions and inactions pile on, as well as his failures, and he falls to his knees of his own volition, hands to his ears as if that would make everything just.

Stop.

”Do ya think… Esper would mind a chocolate and vanilla cake this time ‘round?”

”He'll love anything if it's made by you, Psyk.”

Paradox, retaining his true form, stands towering over Esper’s slouched stance, glaring as Esper grips at his hair in a crazed frustration. “This should not be hard. No matter what you want, there's only one answer. Anything else is meaningless! That is the most basic of basics. That is the goal.” He then says with as much disgust as he can muster, “That was our goal. Now, choose or I will make you choose.”

Time ticks slowly in this unnatural black backdrop, filled with the most beautiful flowers.

It goes unnoticed by Esper, burdened with his choices.

Paradox, seeing this, knows his next decision before Esper can even think.

As promised and much like before, Esper is not left with a choice really, as he finds the shard containing Mastermind and Psyker at his throat by Paradox's hands. Later, he will remember how he felt the shard dig at his throat, no mark left but a ghost of pain irritating the scar at his neck.

A whirl of anemone encircles them in a violent gust, accompanied by the same woodsy scent drowning out all and overwhelming all his senses as his eyelids, heavy, fall shut for the last time.

He hears one last warning:

“You should have never left them.”

And then—nothing.

===== → loading … loading … loading … :\\ destination … standby … … … =====

“... wha, Esper!? Quick, Mastermind… he’s awake!”

“... it’s been three days! How is he—is he… ?”

===== → loading … loading … loading … :// destination … unknown … … … =====

“I wonder,” Dominator murmurs to himself, toying with Esper's miniature dynamo replica as it sits safely on its designated desk, “how he fares…”

If Dominator is being honest with himself (and these days that is not often), he finds that his mind drifts to Esper lately. After all, it's been a month, maybe two? Who was he to keep track of time? Though he always knew he was prone to night terrors and the such, that expression Esper left with that day struck Dominator hard and would remain seared in his memories for days if not weeks.

A ding draws him from his fleeting fanciful thoughts and he blinks slowly. “Ah, Dynamo? Apocalypse?” He lifts his chin from his palm and turns his gaze upon the floating windows nearby, “Are we stable this time?”

A month or two, give or take, led to much success on his end, a lot of progress, and then frustration. His main goal was to see how far he could influence the reach of some of his Installs, particularly with the help of Force Field. There were promising results and so far, he's been able to maintain a much larger radius but at the cost of efficiency. As of the last experiment, the radius envelops the entire Add household, which has been his biggest success yet.

He walks over to the biggest display, some sort of feed showing the fluctuations of the Force Field. Casting such a wide reach strained Dominator but at least so far, from what Apocalypse was relaying, the potential was there to move into the next phase—

A sudden system warning blares through the lab, the shrill sound of it causing Dominator to flinch at the unsightly sound, a hand covering his ear. It then hits him what that warning was for exactly. Immediately, he whirls around to his Dynamo, then back to the screens as he asks, “Wait, the field!? It's being attacked?”

No sooner than the words left his mouth, Dominator feels a far off rumble in the far left wing of the household. There was some seconds before there was nothing, and then an even louder bang. “Dynamo, what is that!?” Growling to himself, his fingers flies quickly along his keyboard to navigate through the various cameras they had set up, but even soon that was rendered useless—this thing, whatever it was, blew out all of them. Was it physical? Or some sort of arcane magic? “Apocalypse, quickly, I—”

The loudest, earth shattering boom Dominator had heard yet, rattled the entire household, strong enough to knock him to his feet, as well as other items in his lab. Signature purple waves of energy and electricity, seemingly from his projects, or his own Dynamo gone haywire, slither and explode in the room. Hissing rather from the shock of it all than any pain, Dominator, finally losing his composure, frantically yells out, “Can I please get confirmation on what is happening? It has been far too long without an answer for this to be acceptable!” He steadies himself to his feet, gripping the edge of a countertop for support. Again, he tries to summon Apocalypse, who he had lost in the frenzy of this commotion. And he finally appears but not as he expects, “Holographic form? Tsk, any injuries? Scan and report—” Are you alright? goes unsaid. “Where is your location?” Already, on pop-up windows, he can see Apocalypse’s vitals. Health was fine. Alongside that, Apocalypse had used some energy in preparation to retaliate the attack but there was no visible damage or signs of a scuffle.

Apocalypse does not get to report anything more to Dominator, the connection drops, and instead the warning from earlier is flashing red now insistently on multiple windows, demanding his attention, overriding other screens. Was this a systematic or network attack? But, no… it was very much physical. Scans already showed signs this was not some random earthquake or natural occurring event, but a direct and deliberate attempt on the house—or perhaps, it was the Force Field?

Finally, he expands the warning screens and reads. The warnings were not just for the attack itself. In disbelief he mutters, “Impossible, it's completely… destroyed?”

Finally, some beats later, his cube partner flies into sight, fretting with meows over his creator.

Dominator pays him little heed. He is fine after all! Dusting himself off, he hops right back into the fray of chaos and begins scrolling between windows, though soon he could no longer avoid his meows any longer when it becomes insistent and even louder. “Oh, for the love of Elrios, what is it now, Apocalypse? If you need to be looked at, I shall put you in queue and—” He stops, whatever words he had dies on his lips as he looks over his shoulder to see Apocalypse circling frantically over both Psyker and Esper's mini dynamo displays on the orderly countertop some paces away. Despite nearly everything else toppling over, the replicas remained unharmed. In fact, they looked even better than before from a mere cursory glance. “Is that…” He stops, frozen, as if afraid to approach when he is hit again with the realization that, “—P-Psyker…?” He falls unceremoniously to his knees, eyes wide in disbelief as he watches Psyker's replica whirl to life, static energy and electricity rippling in small waves along its device, no longer dim.

Psyker's replica was online once more.

“B-But… how can that be?” His voice, rough from commandeering and shout-outs, now soft, barely a whisper, tinged with fear, sadness, longing… but most of all, something he was afraid to feel: hope.

Apocalypse requests the aid of two of Dominator's Dynamo to bring both replicas to the fallen Dominator.

Gently, he accepts them, staring at them as if a bare touch alone would shatter whatever miracle was happening here. He didn't need to do anything beyond observing them to tell they were online, but with both in each hand, he could feel the familiar signature of their energies, pulsing and radiating, and full of life… ! Looking at Esper's replica mini, his was much more vibrant than ever before too. Even more so than when Dominator scanned Esper and fed the replica his energy from the repairs a couple months ago. Could Esper finally be back… with Psyker?

As if sensing the possibilities whirling through his mind, Dynamo already ran calculations: “No portals via the Diabolic Esper have been recorded within the last… … …fifty three days, twelve hours, three minutes, and fourteen seconds and counting.” But what of the obvious energy blasts? The very ones that rattled the house to its core and dispersed here in the lab? Surely those were theirs… ! “Percentage of Diabolic Esper's energies: 64.21%. Percentage of Lunatic Psyker's energies: 75.89%.”

“How can that be? Not even 90%? It is either Esper and Psyker or it is not!”

“... recalculating. … … Pending results … complete: entities are not Diabolic Esper and Lunatic Psyker.”

Frustrated, he fists a handful of hair, growling to himself. This made zero sense at all. Did his lousy automations and network receive interference of some kind from those psionic blasts? His eyes screw shut, heart racing as he forces himself to calm down, to focus, to relax. To prioritize.

Exhale, start again.

Focused, he opens his eyes, a light that was not there in ages, now brightening his gaze. “One thing at a time, Dynamo.” Magenta hues fall to the warning screens popping up as the system continues to crash, unable to read or feed data about his Force Field that is seemingly in disarray. “Let's… repair this, no, we shall fix it. Sturdy and stabilize it, we will need to increase energy and output now if we are having random attacks. No more risks from this. Then, we shall take stock of everything else, check for faulty devices and other miscellaneous damages, and then…”

He opens his eyes again, a wary stare falling towards the replicas in his hand, whirling with energy and vibrancy unlike anything he's ever seen before.

“I suppose my mysterious benefactors that powered their replicas can wait, for now.”

===== → loading … loading … loading … :\\ destination … standby … … … =====

“Amazing, maybe you two should pair up more often on our excursions and dungeon dives after all. Who knows what you two could accomplish if you'd work together more.”

The two being one, Lunatic Psyker, vying for the chance of sport, having been restless for ages now because of two, Diabolic Esper finally rising from his coma like slumber, recovered as if nothing had happened.

Together the pair were testing out some custom made simulation-obstacle course that Mastermind blue printed and Psyker built. (Esper was working on some schematic of interactive rotations, or some such mechanism, but well… sleeping and traveling from home does put a quick halt to that progress.) Given that Mastermind refused to let Esper out of sight—i.e, house arrest, and that they all agreed to testing and observing Esper for the coming days—this was the next best choice for everyone.

“Hah, just admit you rather see the results than make the results yourself.”

“I've two perfect consenting subjects to do so for me, it is simply more efficient this way,” Mastermind shoots Psyker’s obvious bait down, dismissing him with a wave of his hand. He does have the nerve to smirk at him though, tacking on an afterthought, “Besides, admit you're enjoying yourself.”

“Well,” Psyker says in between sips of water, “Won't deny that. ‘s pretty exhilarating to have Esper’s portals boost my super sonic speed like that.”

“Of course,” Mastermind hums easily, attention split as he tinkers with a couple of nasod chips.

Psyker ungracefully plops himself beside the scientist, jostling him and his makeshift workstation. “And what's all this?”

“Psyker, stop moving! And where is Esper? So help me El if you tell me you lost him—”

Right on cue, a portal opens up, and at the same time, one of the nasod chips Mastermind holds lights up as soon as Esper hops from the portal, Mastermind makes to dodge him.

Well, he tries, anyway.

Esper lands perfectly in between the two, squishing his way demandingly into Mastermind's space as well. “Yes, what has you so occupied that you're ignoring vitals and our battle results?”

For a moment, Mastermind flushes brightly, ears red now that a pair of eyes are looking to him eagerly for answers. Nervously, he glances away, laughing mostly to himself to ease his nerves from the sudden attention. “Well, this? It's really nothing—”

“Doesn't look like nothing to us.” Esper tries to reach out for one of the nasod chips in Mastermind's hands.

“Yea, it lit up and everythin’ when Esper came over. Hmm, is it tracking his movements or somethin’?” Psyker inquires, grabbing Esper's mischievous, wandering hand, ignoring his whines and pouts.

Again, Mastermind does all he can to avoid their piercing gazes. Well, he supposes, if they don't find out now, they'll find out some other way, wouldn't they? Instead of explaining, Mastermind reaches across the inquisitive portal hopper, taking Psyker's hand into his hand.

Now it's Psyker's turn to blush. “W-Wha’! Hey!?”

“Oh, be quiet!” Mastermind barks back, fighting his own blush because of Psyker's blush. Calming down, he nods to Psyker's hand, “Make a fist, use some energy. You know, like I see you do sometimes without realizing it.”

“Did ya hafta grab my hand just for that… !?”

Esper snickers.

Mastermind is so red, but mercifully, the other two say nothing else.

As instructed, Psyker looks down at his hand, makes a fist, opens it, makes a fist, until small crackles of electricity and energy circuit around his nasod glove.

As soon as it does, the other nasod chip reacts to Psyker.

Before either can say anything, Mastermind digs into his jacket's pocket, and pulls out two perfectly replicated miniatures of Esper and Psyker's dynamo. “Each chip, linked specifically to you both, are suppose to go into this… and, well…” He trails off, because he doesn't want to really admit what this is for.

Fortunately, they don't know why but unfortunately, they rather prod at its existence.

“Mastermind, this is such an elementary little toy.” Esper flops his weight on Mastermind's shoulder, teasing, “Is this really more important than me?”

“What—No, o-of course not! It just—”

“Seriously, I feel like you made blueprints for somethin’ like this ages ago, when we were still just tracers,” Psyker adds on, his free hand gesturing at a short height as if indicating when they were that tall back then. “Why the interest in such a thing now?”

Even though he is clearly teasing, Mastermind inwardly flinches at Psyker's insight. He scoffs mentally, annoyed that the brawler was always analyzing him, always seeing right through him. Fortunately, or unfortunately, for him, Esper interrupts his inner thoughts by yanking him up from his seat, his project falling and Mastermind wailing to Psyker to catch it.

Thankfully, he does so.

“Well, if it's not more important than me,” Esper purrs, nuzzling at Mastermind who is desperately trying to avoid this suddenly affectionate time-manipulating cat’s snuggles, “come on, let's take a turn together.” Offhandedly, Esper comments loudly that he now understands why Psyker is always nagging Mastermind about staying in his lab and ignoring everything for his research. “No buts!”

Fondly, Psyker watches the two go off. Or, well, he watches Esper drag a whining Mastermind, pleading for the brawler to save him from Esper. He chuckles as they disappear off towards the start of the obstacle course.

Then, his attention drops down to Mastermind's little project, blinking at the nasod chip linked to Esper lighting up. They must have started the obstacle course, then. He watches it for a few more seconds, and shakes his head. Idly, he wonders if Esper had did that on purpose, tugging Mastermind away like that. That devious schemer is always up to something. Though as his eyes fall to the nasod chips blinking, he supposes that Mastermind is always up to something nowadays too.

He laments that Mastermind obviously can't trust him enough to open up.

When did their connection and trust become so terse and fragile?

Psyker, jumping from his thoughts, heaves a big sigh, and then puts on a smile, racing over to the section that they're at. “Oi! You two hurry up already!” He pumps his fist in the air. “Let's do a run with all of us together! It'll be fun! One who hits the least targets is on cleaning duty!”

#my fanfiction #diabolic esper #mastermind (elsword)#lunatic psyker (elsword)#dominator (elsword)#and someone else i can't tag bc of spoilers :'D #anyway i initially struggled really hard with the first scene but then i blacked out and came to something p darn okay if i say so myself #i hope u all like it...... (trembling)

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