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vsimp · 11 months

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bitter

pairing: kamisato ayato x f!reader

wc: 3k

genre: angst

summary: where you are in an arranged marriage with him and you rarely ever see him

warning: somewhat traditional housewife roles, negative thoughts

What a cruel fate it was, to fall in love with a man who neither loves or hates you.

To spend long, cold nights alone. A large, indifferent room divided by two separate futons.

You knew that your husband was a busy man. He worked all night, barely resting during the day, and every time you’ve caught glimpse of his office, there was always a huge mess laying around on his desk. But having been married to him for such a long time, you felt that the distance between you two grew longer and longer every day.

In the morning, you would greet him with the biggest smile you could muster. He would greet you back with the same gentle smile everyday. At this point, you knew what his real smile looked like. You don’t recall when the last time he’s ever given you one.

If Miss Ayaka and Thoma were busy, and you dined alone with your husband, the table would be silent. You didn’t know what to say, and he’d also be reading over papers while eating, so you were afraid to disturb him. If the two were present, or if there were any other guests, Ayato would be more active in the conversation, joking lightheartedly and appearing like he was actually enjoying himself.

This man did not treat you unkindly despite having these feelings that lurked in your chest. In fact, it was the opposite. He was a true gentleman every time you interacted with him. He would open the door for you while you two walked together. He would pull out the chair when you wanted to sit. He would hold your hand and escort you to any event, or if you were getting on/off a carriage.

But it was all superficial. It felt like he was forcing himself to do these actions for you. You couldn’t even tell what his intentions are for doing so. You couldn’t tell if he just disliked you, disliked this arranged marriage, or if he just wanted people to see what a loving husband he was, that everything was okay right now even though it really wasn’t.

From touchless nights to meaningless small talk, your heart ached at the thought of everything. You don’t ever recall the last time he’s kissed you on the lips in private. You don’t recall the last time he’s ever opened up to you about the depths of his heart, from the things that scared him the most, to the things that has made him truly happy.

And while you know that a relationship thrives off of communication, you couldn’t help but feel scared. You were scared that the man in front of you would grow even colder, shutting off the depths of his heart forever, pushing you away if you were to ever confront him. Maybe he’d even take it to an extreme and call off the marriage with you, telling you that he never loved you, as this was really only an arrangement between your two families. Maybe he was in love with someone else prior to this marriage, and he has only reserved his heart for them all of these years.

You have seen his darker sides. He doesn’t think that anyone has noticed, but you have. You were always watching him, after all.

A more mischievous side of him existed deep down in there, a certain sly foxiness that could even rival Guuji Yae herself. Sometimes, it would scare you to see that forced smile on his face as if what lingered in his mind were true thoughts darker than what he had initially led on.

But despite his flaws, despite the mask he constantly wore around, you loved him. You loved him so much it hurt. You loved how he cared for people despite them being complete strangers to him. You loved his gentle smile as he holds your hand so tenderly when you accidentally trip. How could a man be so kind, yet so cruel to your heart?

And even as you laid in bed most nights alone, shedding tears as if you were the dark side of the crystal moon longing for the light of the sun, you still loved him regardless.

You were in your futon all alone as of this moment, staring at the ceiling. The room was pitch black and silent, other than the occasional sounds of the residual droplets from the passing rain. Ayato would never let you rest in a room that was cold, so the temperature was heated comfortably, yet you couldn’t help but bundle yourself up under the covers even more.

It was cold without him. You didn’t even realize when the last time he had actually went to bed in this room you both allegedly shared.

But it didn’t matter anyways because his futon laid far away from yours.

Your own husband wouldn’t even come near you when you’re together in the same room. You didn’t know if he just wanted to be respectful as a formality between husband and wife, or if he is repulsed by being in the same vicinity as you, but it hurt regardless.

You sighed as you covered your face with the blanket, trying to get rid of these harboring thoughts. It was no use, no matter what you did, you couldn’t stop thinking about your relationship with him every single night. He is what plagues your mind at night, like a thorn lodged deep in a fingertip. It was only soon that you will be bleeding out your love for him.

How could you make a scene about all of this anyways? You've seen how hard he works. You knew that everything he did, it was for the sake of protecting his family and home. Who were you to complain about how busy he was? That was another reason why you continued to keep silent. You thought that your worries meant nothing compared to his own.

Your mind was racing a mile per minute, and you knew you weren't able to get any sleep like this. You got up and out of your futon as you decided to go for a stroll around the estate. The guards protected the outside and prevented from anybody from coming in. As long as you walked around inside, there should be no problem with you strolling the corridors, so long as you remained quiet.

Lighting up a candle, you started meandering through the halls, your footsteps nearly silent with no goal or destination in mind. You didn't even realize your feet had automatically taken you to the doors of his office, the same door that you have stared at many times, knowing that your husband was in there, but you had no reason or courage to open. You see the dimly lit light through the translucent paper sheets, and you knew that tonight was going to be another long night with no rest for him.

You sighed, not remembering the last time you had been in his office, and you were about to step away, but the door suddenly slides open rather violently. You flinch in shock because you didn’t expect for anything to happen, as he usually never notices your presence.

"Who is there?" He said in a serious tone, and you were finally greeted by the man who plagued your every thought and dreams. His hand laid on the hilt of his sword, almost as if he was ready to strike down any intruder who was lurking in the shadows. But instead of drawing his sword, he blinked a few times, realizing it was just you who stood there. He instantly let go of the sword and his expression relaxed a bit, although his eyebrows were furrowed slightly to show confusion. "Y/n? What are you doing here? It is almost 2am right now."

His presence stunned you for a second before you snapped out of the current awe-struck daze you were in. It had been quite a while since you've seen his face. He was rarely home anymore, but when he was, he would be holed up in his office. You only ever see him to greet him when he returned back home, and sometimes when he leaves, as he had a habit of sneaking out secretly every so often.

"Oh." You were flustered at this unexpected situation. "I had trouble sleeping, so I decided to go for a walk..."

"Is something troubling you?" He asked in concern. "If it is work-related with the household, then I know Ayaka would be happy to give you a hand.”

"It's not that..." You shook your head. You didn't want him to worry about you, so you tell him a small lie. "It's just one of those nights..."

"I see."

"Have you been faring well?" You then asked him.

He gave you a small, gentle smile, but you have seen this many times. It was one of the masks he wore when he wasn’t telling the truth.

"I've been doing alright," he replied. Anybody would've believed him, as he would never appear disheveled in front of anybody, but from the way his eyes had a slight dark tint underneath them and the mess that apparently was his desk with papers and pens strewn everywhere, you knew that he was far from so. "I was actually looking to take a break soon from my paperwork. Since you probably will be up for a little bit, would you care to join me?"

An invitation from him was rare, and you immediately jumped ship. You nodded. "Let me go prepare some tea."

"Oh, there's no need to do that."

"Nonsense," you gave him a reassuring smile, knowing what he was going to say. He was so considerate as always, not wanting to trouble you. "It will only be a few.”

You start to walk down the hall to head to the kitchen, but you were surprised to hear footsteps behind you. Before you knew it, Ayato was walking beside you, and you could hear your heart thumping in your chest.

"Ayato?" You questioned.

It was dim, as the candle was the only thing that lit the dark halls, so you can barely make out his expression.

"I'll tag along with you then." He said softly, as to not wake anybody else up. "It will be a good change of pace from being stuck in my office all night."

To you, he was so hard to read at times. If he was accompanying you, he surely must have his reasons, as he had never used any of his personal time on you before. He only accompanied you outside when he had a special meeting at an event that required for both spouses to arrive. Those were the only times when he was somewhat affectionate. That was why you were nervous when he decided to come along with you, thinking he had an ulterior motive like he usual does. But a small, small part of you hoped that it was something else; that he wanted to join you because he missed you and just wanted to idly chat.

You stepped into the kitchen and then lit a brighter lantern to illuminate the room using your own candle. But before you could do anything else, you watched as Ayato's hand pushed a portion of your hair aside. You couldn't help but feel your cheeks heat up at the action, your eyes making its way towards him now that you were able to see his face.

He wore a gentle smile on his face as he looked down at you tenderly. A rare expression indeed, you’ve only noted him to give this look to Ayaka. It made your heart hurt a little as it thumped away in your chest, feeling like you could soar to the moon and never come back.

"Your hair was getting close to the flames, so I didn't want it to burn,” he explained.

"Oh..." You didn't know what else you could say. "Thank you..."

With that, you started boiling the kettle of water, your body moving to find tea leaves. Ayato watches on without speaking a word, and you two drift into a somewhat lulling silence.

As you prepared your leaves, Ayato interrupted the silence no sooner than later.

“There’s another event that the Kanjou Commission is hosting,” he said. There it was. He needed you to attend another political event with him. You were once so naive to think that he would actually spend time with you just because he wanted to. You knew he hated small talk and would rather get straight to the point. “I was hoping you wouldn’t mind attending it with me.”

Of course you didn’t mind, if it meant that you would be spending more time with him. But even if you did expect for this, you were still disappointed.

“Sure. When will it be?”

“In two months. They’re hosting a party event to discuss upcoming financial plans for the winter.”

You nodded, your hands a little rougher than usual as you crushed up the dried tea leaves in the mortar. Usually you would hide your emotions well, but it definitely showed in the way you pounded at the leaves.

If Ayato had noticed your switch in moods, he didn’t say anything. Instead, he went over to the cabinet to grab two cups for the tea.

“I appreciate it. Let me know if there’s anything else I can do for you.”

Another blatant lie fueled only by courtesy. He always says this whenever you did a favor for him. If you were to truly ask for a favor, he would have Thoma somehow fulfill it, or he would say that he was too busy to do it himself, and that he would make it up later. He would send a gift, picked out by either Thoma or Ayaka of course, to later apologize for not fulfilling your promise.

And although it has only happened four or five times before you’d stop asking him for favors, knowing that he was too busy to fulfill them, it still left a bitter feeling within you.

You felt that it was selfish for you to feel this way. You knew that he had lost his parents at a young age, having to resume the role as the leader of the Yashiro Commission and head of the Kamisato Clan very early in life. You thought it wasn’t right for you to feel bitter about small things like this. Yet, as you glanced at the man in front of you, who barely looked at you and instead stared at the bright full moon outside, your heart ached at this solemn expression— one that loomed with fatigue and tiredness.

Maybe what you truly longed for was his happiness. Maybe you wanted to share that happiness with him, although you knew it would be a long shot. So long as he was the head of the Yashiro Commission, the leader of the Shuumatsuban, there will always be a distance between you two, as he prioritized things differently from any other typical person. Even though he was in the same room as you right now, as the moon peaked through the small window, the cicadas singing in the distance, he still looked as alone as ever. Like there was an unmeasurable length between you two, and you were too afraid to cross it, in fear that you would never be able to reach him.

The kettle soon starts to heat up, and you take it off the flame to start steeping the tea leaves. A few minutes of silence passed, and you wondered then if he was going to leave immediately after he finished his tea. It was still hot, so you had a couple more minutes left with him, right?

You poured the tea carefully in the cup and then proceeded to hand it over to him.

“It’s hot, so be careful.”

“Thank you,” he smiled at you and graciously accepted the tea. He picked it up to his lips, blowing it a few times as he inhaled the scent. “This smells like a different type of tea than the one you served at the event the other day.”

You remembered that event. You were attending a birthday party for an old couple who were close friends with the Kamisato’s. You brewed that tea with extra care, knowing that Ayato was going to drink it on that very occasion.

“It was truly delicious,” he complimented and you felt your heart soar at his words once more. “I know I never told you this, but it was one of my favorite hot teas.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” I smiled, making note to remember that information. “This one that I brewed helps with stress and calms the mind.”

He took a sip once the tea is cooled down a bit more. “I can see how this one can have that effect. It’s a very mild, but calming flavor. It’s a good choice for you to brew this, since it will probably help you sleep.”

Actually, you had brewed it for him, so that he wouldn’t stress so much, but you held your tongue back. Instead, you took a sip of the hot tea, trying to match his pace so that you both could finish at the same time.

“I hope you like it,” you said.

“I do enjoy it quite a bit,” he replied with a small smile on his face. “I will take it to my office and savor it. I appreciate you willing to spend time with me.”

“It’s my pleasure.”

“I hope you get some sleep soon, and try not to stay awake for too long,” your husband stated. “Please pardon me, I must return to my work.”

You forced out a smile in return, knowing that he had cut his time off with you short on purpose.

“Have a good night, Ayato.”

He gave a small nod as he walked out with the tea in his hand. You waited for the door to fully shut before you leaned on the counter with your back pressed to it.

He didn't even wait to finish the tea before he left. He just went straight to the point, pushing you aside as if your feelings had never mattered to him in the first place.

Your hands gripped the ceramic tea cup tightly. It felt like if you had held it tight enough, it would shatter and break, scalding your skin like the way your husband did just now.

Your tears dripped into the tea, the salty solution messing with the delicate taste of the drink as you sipped it, not wanting anything to go to waste. What was once a calming, smooth taste was now bitter.

So, so bitter.

It was another cruel, lonely night that awaited you.

#repost from this morning because I don’t see it listed when tagged #when u just started this blog and ur already soft shadowbanned #genshin impact #genshin #Kamisato Ayato #Kamisato Ayato x reader #Kamisato Ayato x reader angst #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact angst #Ayato x reader #Ayato x reader angst #genshin angst

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stardoomed-if · 10 days

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Stardoomed is an 18+ drama/romance interactive fiction novel set in Los Angeles. Focus on relationships and avoid falling into bad habits; the road to fame is more filled with pitfalls than you ever imagined.

When destiny leads you, a newcomer to the world of K-pop, to become the last member selected for the most anticipated new group, Next Gen, the journey to fame seems like a dream come true. But behind the bright lights and smiles on stage, dark secrets and overwhelming challenges lurk.

Each member of Next Gen faces their own demons as they struggle to stay afloat in a world that loves and hates them in equal measure, a world to which you now belong. You'll be drawn into a whirlwind of drama, romance, and friendship as you navigate the complexities of life as a new idol.

With the fate of the group and your own career at stake, you'll have to make tough decisions, face your deepest fears, and discover what it truly means to achieve greatness in a world where success can be as fleeting as a star.

Are you ready to live the dream?

CW: explicit language, sexual themes, discrimination (homophobia, transphobia, racism), substance abuse, non explicit violence.

✦ Play as a male, female, straight or queer, question your gender, and challenge the world for something you didn't choose.

✦ Full customization: personality, appearance, style, nationality, and just like in real life, be judged by how you look.

✦ Choose your role in the group, are you a dancer or a rapper? perhaps a talented singer? or maybe... nothing.

✦ Become part of one of the most promising K-pop groups of the decade.

✦ Face the true face of the industry.

✦ Succeed as an idol or pursue your true dream, be a painter, an actor, a CEO—the choice is yours.

✦ Fight against your projective mother to regain control of your life or give in to her whims for a bit of her affection.

✦ Embark on a forbidden romance with one of your three group mates or the company staff, either way, they'll fire you when they find out.

✦ Meaningful decisions. Here, everything matters, even your weight, unfortunately.

✦ Choose between your mental health or stardom.

✦ NIKO ROMANOV [male]; see more

One of the choreographers at HYPE. Contrasting with his rough appearance and full of tattoos, Niko is a kind and warm person who, although his smile never fades, carries the weight of his past with him.

"Leave it all behind."

✦ SONG HANNAH [female]; see more

A talented beauty blogger and one of the main makeup artists at HYPE. Cheerful, shy, introverted, and full of colors, Hannah is as beautiful on the inside as she is on the outside. It's a pity she doesn't think the same.

"There's always a reason to be grateful."

✦ DEVON DILLARD [non-binary]: see more

A music producer at HYPE, with a distinctive style and incomparable talent, they have broken barriers and more than a dozen hearts. A free soul is what they are, and all they want is to have fun. Although you are increasingly convinced that everything is a facade.

"I'm too sober for this shit."

✦ CHO JIHOON / JIWOO [mcs gender]: see more

The charming vocalist and center of Next Gen. Charismatic and with an incredible sense of fashion, they have risen and made a mark in the industry. However, fame has its price, and forgetting who they are was what they had to pay.

"I dress to impress me."

✦ NIRA [mcs gender]; see more

Perfectionist is an understatement. Leader of Next Gen and main dancer, Nira is as demanding as they are talented. Some call them a prodigy, and yet it has never been enough. Perfection doesn't exist; that's something they soon have to face.

"My only competition is my potential."

✦ DANIEL / DANIELLE HAN [mcs gender]; see more

As outgoing and affectionate as a Husky, Dani is the main rapper of Next Gen. A streamer and gamer turned idol, not a bad combination… right? Well, it seems that things aren't so fun with a contract involved.

"My life is full of exciting possibilities."

DEMO [TBD August-September] | COG FORUM TBA |

#interactive fiction #interactive novel #stardoomed if #current wip #choice of games #choicescript #if game #if wip #dashingdon #intro post #if #hosted games #interactive game #cog demo

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makingqueerhistory · 8 months

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Spooky Queer Books

Since spooky season is starting, I thought I would share a list of my favourite queer books that are great for this time of year.

Some of these links are affiliate links.

It Came from the Closet: Queer Reflections on Horror

Joe Vallese

Horror movies hold a complicated space in the hearts of the queer community: historically misogynist, and often homo- and transphobic, the genre has also been inadvertently feminist and open to subversive readings. Common tropes--such as the circumspect and resilient "final girl," body possession, costumed villains, secret identities, and things that lurk in the closet--spark moments of eerie familiarity and affective connection. Still, viewers often remain tasked with reading themselves into beloved films, seeking out characters and set pieces that speak to, mirror, and parallel the unique ways queerness encounters the world.It Came from the Closet features twenty-five essays by writers speaking to this relationship, through connections both empowering and oppressive. From Carmen Maria Machado on Jennifer's Body, Jude Ellison S. Doyle on In My Skin, Addie Tsai on Dead Ringers, and many more, these conversations convey the rich reciprocity between queerness and horror.

Into the Drowning Deep

Mira Grant

The ocean is home to many myths, But some are deadly... Seven years ago the Atargatis set off on a voyage to the Mariana Trench to film a mockumentary bringing to life ancient sea creatures of legend. It was lost at sea with all hands. Some have called it a hoax; others have called it a tragedy. Now a new crew has been assembled. But this time they're not out to entertain. Some seek to validate their life's work. Some seek the greatest hunt of all. Some seek the truth. But for the ambitious young scientist Victoria Stewart this is a voyage to uncover the fate of the sister she lost. Whatever the truth may be, it will only be found below the waves. But the secrets of the deep come with a price.

The Devouring Gray

C. L. Herman

After her sister's death, seventeen-year-old Violet Saunders finds herself dragged to Four Paths, New York. Violet may be a newcomer, but she soon learns her mother isn't: They belong to one of the revered founding families of the town, where stone bells hang above every doorway and danger lurks in the depths of the woods. Justin Hawthorne's bloodline has protected Four Paths for generations from the Gray--a lifeless dimension that imprisons a brutal monster. After Justin fails to inherit his family's powers, his mother is determined to keep this humiliation a secret. But Justin can't let go of the future he was promised and the town he swore to protect. Ever since Harper Carlisle lost her hand to an accident that left her stranded in the Gray for days, she has vowed revenge on the person who abandoned her: Justin Hawthorne. There are ripples of dissent in Four Paths, and Harper seizes an opportunity to take down the Hawthornes and change her destiny--to what extent, even she doesn't yet know. The Gray is growing stronger every day, and its victims are piling up. When Violet accidentally unleashes the monster, all three must band together with the other Founders to unearth the dark truths behind their families' abilities...before the Gray devours them all.

Tell Me I'm Worthless

Alison Rumfitt

Three years ago, Alice spent one night in an abandoned house with her friends, Ila and Hannah. Since then, Alice's life has spiraled. She lives a haunted existence, selling videos of herself for money, going to parties she hates, drinking herself to sleep. Memories of that night torment Alice, but when Ila asks her to return to the House, to go past the KEEP OUT sign and over the sick earth where teenagers dare each other to venture, Alice knows she must go. Together, Alice and Ila must face the horrors that happened there, must pull themselves apart from the inside out, put their differences aside, and try to rescue Hannah, whom the House has chosen to make its own. Cutting, disruptive, and darkly funny, Tell Me I'm Worthless is a vital work of trans fiction that examines the devastating effects of trauma and how fascism makes us destroy ourselves and each other.

#queer #lgbt #transgender #queer books #lgbt books #book recommendations #queer history

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silkjade · 1 year

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alhaitham x mermaid! reader (2)

⤀ warnings: fem!reader, no pronouns mentioned a/n: recommended to read the previous part first, since this is a direct continuation next ﾉ series masterlist ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𓇼

For the past three weeks since your last encounter, alhaitham returns to the cove as usual, only to be met with no one. On the fourth week, he finally spots you lounging on a large rock, moonbathing under the pale light. The thought that it’s no wonder sailors are so easily enraptured, flits across his mind as he wades towards your rock.

It’s a shame that the moment your eyes meet, you dive back into the sea, the clear waters darkened under the blanket of night. He calls out your name only once, betting on the assumption that you’re still lurking close by. Sighing, he continues.

“I apologize for last time. I’d like to take you up on your offer.”

“… if it still stands of course,” he adds quickly.

There’s a hint of hesitance that lines alhaitham’s words, which is unusual for one normally so confident. Even more so, you notice he isn’t wearing his headphones— not over his ears nor around his neck. How interesting… perhaps you will surface.

“No ‘soundproof earpieces’ tonight?”

“They’d never last in the underwater pressure, so I’d really prefer if they at least stay intact for use on land.”

“And what if I decide to drown you right now? You wouldn’t be able to resist my song.”

It’s true, he probably wouldn’t. But logically speaking, a mermaid who’s chosen to aid him in perfecting his linguistics (multiple times), likely wouldn’t pose a huge threat. On the other hand, he did possibly offend you during your last meeting. In addition, mermaids were notoriously known to be headstrong and fickle as the sea itself. If that were truly the case…

“Then that would be bad luck for me.”

Always so cool, always so calm. The back of your fingers graze past his ear, tempting fate.

“Aren’t you afraid?”

“No.”

To be honest, alhaitham isn’t sure if you’re somehow testing him, what with the way your voice comes out honey sweet to his ears. But his mind is clear and his resolve is strong. He just hopes it translates well to you, despite the slight waver in his hushed voice.

“I know what a kiss means to you humans…” you say, tracing your fingers down the side of his neck, stopping only to toy with the gem on his chest. It’s faint, but you can feel his heartbeat pick up. Blinking once, twice, you look up, holding his gaze, and repeat the question that had left a questionable mark on your correspondence. “Do you trust me?”

There’s no denying that alhaitham is a smart man; he’s learned from his mistake and knows how to answer this time around. Lifting your chin, he gently pulls you in and seals the distance between you with his lips. Your arms wrap around his neck, deepening the kiss, before sinking below the surface, effectively tugging him along, and sending him tumbling into the water with you.

The coldness of the ocean is worlds apart from the warm sumeru air. Alhaitham jerks away, expecting to feel the familiar sting in his nose, but it never comes and he finds himself breathing water like air. You grasp his hand, dragging him into a world unknown— at least to him. You will happily be his guide.

“Well come on. Enough floundering around, we’ve got lots to see.”

After a night of swimming, alhaitham is absolutely exhausted by the time the two of you make it back to the little cove. Even with the ability to breathe underwater, his human body is still no match for the strong currents of the depths.

“I’ve always wondered why you call yourself feeble, but I see it now,” you tease.

He really only has the energy for a halfhearted retort. “Come to sumeru city, and then we’ll see.”

…

It’s a long pause before either of you speak again. Only the rolling of tides breaks the silence in the night.

“Do you mean it?” you ask softly, glancing at your tail. The remaining water droplets glisten under the full moon; you’d have a pair of legs once completely dry. Some of your kind yearned for the world above, but you’ve never quite understood the appeal until now.

“Mmm..” It’s a half conscious hum before drifting off to sleep against the cavern walls.

Behind some rocks lay his usual belongings which he had left hidden earlier in the night. You drape his strange half-cape over his sleeping form, recalling how humans tend to get cold easily in the sea breeze, especially while wet.

“Hey, wake up. It’s noon.”

And so alhaitham opens his eyes to find your face hovering inches from his. Upon further inspection (and after blinking away the sleep from his eyes), he notices that not only has your tail been replaced with a pair of legs, but that you’re also… completely bare.

“What are you—”

Immediately, he turns his head away, choking on his words as a heated blush tints his face. With the reveal that you did in fact know the human implications of a kiss, he’s sure you also know what you’re currently doing as well. But for now… he swiftly gets up, tossing his cape in your direction. He’ll have to make a stop at port ormos to buy you some real clothing later.

It’s amusing, how a man so collected falters in the face of intimacy. With a sly grin, you cover your naked figure, though it quickly fades when you see him packing to leave the privacy of the cavern.

“H-hey help me up!”

“Oh? Feeling feeble, are we?”

a/n2: help i'm so invested in this au i'm probably going to do a third part, so send me an ask or just reply below if you'd like to be added to the series taglist ! thank you for reading ♡

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kuroosdarling · 10 months

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LIKE A VIRGIN — ༉‧₊˚.

ft gojo satoru !

꒰ CONTENTS ꒱ : MDNI. f!reader. unprotected sex, fingering, lots of praise, creampie, aftercare — WC : 2.4k

꒰ SYNOPSIS ꒱ : after years of pining after each other, the moment has finally come. gojo was never one to be shy about having sex but it turns out being intimate was a whole different thing.

꒰ NOTES ꒱ : i promise that one day i’ll cut back on writing lovesick characters but sadly today is not that day hehe enjoy ! <3

reblogs and interactions are always appreciated ! (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ

loving satoru is holding the notion that while you may be star crossed lovers, the cosmos severely underestimated how much love he held for you.

instead of crossing paths, he collided into you, changing the scope of your world with a simple introduction that had the universe questioning why it even bothered to try to keep you two apart in the first place.

time has passed since then but that connection has always remained, the two of you circling around each other in a dance of fate. all it takes is for one of you to leap, and since gojo never did — it was up to you.

so you leapt.

and it was a wondrous blur, the planet aligning for this singular event that had all the stars on the edge of their seats. it all brought you to this moment, mouth crashing together in a hurried flurry, setting your body ablaze.

whispers of endearment flood out of your mouth and into his head, leaving it reeling in its wake. you could tell a part of him was still missing, lurking in the shadows, too scared to come out just yet.

it didn’t bother you at first, not when his lips never left yours — nibbling your bottom lip anytime you tried to break for air.

but the damned blindfold still hung around his face, covering the eyes you so desperately want to see. he didn’t actively have his infinity on but the distance between you could’ve fooled you.

annoyance started to flicker within you, twirling around with the unabridged want and causing the fire to spread. you finally pull away from his kiss, leaving you breathless.

but he kept on, kissing down your neck and not even sparing a glance at you. but who could tell with the dark blue fabric wrapped around his head. a part of you envied it for a second, craving that level of closeness it shares with its holder.

there was a moment of hesitance, one so short that if you weren’t so hyper focused on him, you would’ve missed it. at first, you shook it off, opting to help him out by unsnapping your bra and sliding it off.

the second the fabric hit the floor, gojo pounced, shoving his face between your tits before enveloping one of your nipples in his mouth. you mewl at the sensation which only has him sucking a little harder before he switches to the other side.

“gojo.” you coo, trying to pull him back up so you can properly look at him. but he kept kissing your chest, leaving little marks that you’ll carry with you for the days to come.

you watch as his hands tremble slightly, the way his breathing was uneven. all of it could’ve been chalked up to the heated moment, but something told you that wasn’t the case.

“gojo. why are you acting like this? you’re not a virgin, are you?” you tease him despite knowing he’s not. a foolish attempt to cover up the insecurity on why he felt the need to keep a barrier up with you.

the words didn’t come out as gracefully as you wanted but you’d figure he’d rip your clothes off by now, flip you over, and start fucking into you like he did with the other women he used to bring over. but he could barely look at you. and it annoyed you.

“no but-“ a pause. “you kind of make me feel like one, though.” he said honestly. there wasn’t his usual overly playful lilt in his voice. instead, it was coated with something a little more serious — more raw.

“what? how?” you try to pivot so you can look at him, but he keeps you in place.

“because it’s you. the other women i’ve slept with have never made it past that, it was always just sex. but you? it’s so different, so new.”

“gojo, i-“

“please, call me satoru.” he continues placing kisses along your neck, running his lips back and forth until he was sure he covered every inch with his affection. “i’ve wanted you for so long, since the day i met you.”

“satoru,” you start, but your breath hitches as his hand starts gliding down your body, hiking your skirt up as it trails back up.

“and you just had to wear this skirt tonight.” he almost groaned into your neck, his fingers trailing up your thigh. everything felt so suffocating, like if he didn’t kiss you right then and there, you’d never recover. “always drove me so crazy because all i wanted to do was flip it up and sink my dick into you.”

“well there’s nothing stopping you now.” you tease.

and that’s all it took to flip the switch.

finally, he was a man of action, pulling back and hastily removing his blindfold so he’d let you look into his beautiful eyes. the normally bright blue color was quickly descending into a dark abyss, his pupils looking wider than you’d ever seen them — almost a little crazed.

the moment your eyes met his, you felt all the walls crashing down into a pile of rubble at your feet. the explosion was instantaneous as the sparkled ones met yours, holding nothing but a swirl of love and lust. utter devotion that he was ready to pour into you.

“been waiting for this for too long.” the words rushed out of him in a slight whine as he leaned in, melding his lips against yours in a filthy kiss that had you instantly hooking your leg around his waist.

his hands pushed you further into the bed, before it trailed up your leg to keep it in place. his clothed cock started grinding up against your core and it was already all too consuming. his fingers trailed up your legs before dancing along your inner thigh. the movement tickling you but gojo isn’t letting up from the kiss.

he pulls back for a second, his slightly sweaty forehead leaning on yours as he looks down to where his hand grazes along your cunt. your hips buck up at the sensation. gojo’s glossy lips slightly part as he rips your panties down your legs.

before you can call out in protest, he’s sliding one lengthy, lithe finger in your already sopping pussy. his focus goes back to your face as you let out a mewl, already humping his hand for more.

“you want more?” he asks, whispering against your lips. he feels your breath swirl with his but he won’t connect with you — not until he has an answer. you can only nod, moving your hips faster. “how much can you take?”

“all of it-“ your mind is already fading fast, pleasure crawling up your body with each thrust gojo’s finger gives you.

he adds a second finger and it’s all it took to have you unravel around him, clawing at his hair — his back, your hands roaming all over him to find purchase as you squeeze around his digits. he watches in awe, mesmerized by how beautiful you are.

with a slight pop, his fingers slide out of you and directly into his mouth. he groans unashamedly at the taste, eyes fluttering shut as if it would help him savor it a little more.

you move to get up, to get closer to him but he lightly pushes you back on the bed, opting to grab your ankles and hike you closer to the edge.

“i hope you weren’t lying earlier when you said you could take it all.” he unzips his pants, pulling out his leaky cock, precum already drooling off the sides. he gives it a few pumps, showcasing how long he is, relishing in the small gulp you give out. “because you’re about to get it all.”

your fingers weave themselves into the sheets as if it will ground you from the way gojo was trying to split you in half with his cock. with a soft groan, he eases the tip in. slowly pushing in, inch by inch.

even though he’s taking it slow, his whole body is screaming at him to hurry up. hell, even your body was suggesting it as you greedily sucked him in.

but it was so much better this way. the way your moans and his groans meshed together in the air paired with your warm, tight walls pull him in, had him wanting to savor this moment for as long as he could.

besides, if he pushed in like he wanted to, he’d probably cum on the spot. and since you already made a teasing comment about him being a virgin earlier — he decided it was best to hold back right now.

but then he bottomed out and he’s never heard a sweeter cry fall from anyone’s lips. tearing his eyes away from where you two were now fully connected, he trailed back up to your blissed out face.

“satoru-“ you coo up at him, reaching your arms up to touch him. “move, please.”

once your arms entangle themselves around his neck, he pulls back out. another whine fell from your mouth and had him driving back into you, thrusting like his life depended on it.

after years of repressing his feelings, of acting like he didn’t care about you even though he was pretty sure you were the reason the earth spun — he finally got to be with you. finally felt like he was good enough to have you like this, let alone touch you.

and the way you sang for him had him chasing a high he doesn’t think he’ll ever reach with anyone else. you were it for him and this just further proved that point.

“yeah, fuck, just like that.” he grunts your name by your ear, slipping closer to your body as he desperately keeps pushing into you. he needed to hear you say it, needed that validation to keep him going. “you look so pretty when you take this dick. who’s — shit — who’s fucking you so good, huh?”

“you!” you cry out, digging your fingers in his back. “you are-“

“you're so good for me, feel s’good around me, fucking made for me.” he keeps babbling as his fingers quickly reach down to twirl around your neglected nub, causing you to cry out his name again. the sound was heavenly and he never thought he’d have a chance to hear an angel sing, but here he was — blessed as can be. “this pussy is so good, best i’ve ever had. want it to be all mine.”

“it is! it’s all yours, satoru!” you hiccup, his thrusts paired with the way he was playing with your clit was sending you into overdrive. he let out a moan as you clenched around him.

burying his face in your neck, he starts to leave little love bites, sucking and licking your neck to his hearts content. he felt the familiar white hot sensation rush shoot through his body, but he’d be damned if he came before you.

“gonna cum for me, baby? need to feel you cum on my cock.” he encouraged you. “need to see your pretty face as you do it, too.”

his pretty eyes were trained on your face, and it was all too much for you. he watched as your eyes roll to the back of your head, your lips calling out his name. the way your cunt squeezed his cock had him gasping out for air.

his hips stuttered as you kept pulsing around him, trying his best to fuck you through your orgasm before he inevitably finished. your legs locked behind him, pushing him in deeper — if that was even possible.

he moaned out your name as his thighs trembled, pushing his hips flush against yours as he felt himself pump all of his cum into you. after a few final, weak thrusts, he stills inside of you. he was absolutely spent but used the last bit of his energy to caress your face, tucking his finger under your chin and bringing you in for a sweet kiss.

“there’s no one quite like you, is there?” he whispered against your lips like it was a secret he was confirming with himself. “how’re you feeling?”

“i’m good.” you almost slur, blissed out from the pleasure that was still easing itself throughout your body. he pressed his lips on your forehead before sitting up a bit.

“i’ll be back in a minute, sweet thing.” he kisses your head again for good measure as he grabs a towel from the bathroom. his eyes trail over to the tub he had in there and an idea popped into his head. he’s never done this kind of thing before, but for you? he’d do anything.

starting up the bath, he adds different oils and soaps into it. lavender wafted through his nose and once he was satisfied with the water temperature, he came back for you.

“ready for your bath?” he murmurs, scooping you up in his arms.

“you drew a bath?” you question, shock evident in all of your features. he just laughs, bringing you into the bathroom. he eases you in before getting in behind you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close.

“only the best for my best girl, right?” he presses a kiss against your ear before nuzzling into your neck. you let out a content hum, leaning back into his arms.

there was a quiet beat, a moment where the two of you could just enjoy the closeness together as you came down from your highs. gojo cant tell if it’s his proximity to you or the soothing scent of lavender infiltrating his mind, but it has him wanting to say those three little words he’s never said to anyone — reserving it just for you in a moment like this.

“i love you.” the words tumble out of his mouth and into your ear. he can almost feel you shiver as you take in what he just said. he didn’t feel any fear, he knew you’d say it back.

and for something he ran from his whole life, it’s never felt easier. his world shifting on his axis as you return those three words to him, finally capturing his heart and never letting him go.

#⁺. ʚ now streaming:#gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujustu kaisen smut

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soulofapatrick · 4 months

Text

I Choose You - Aaron Hotchner x female reader

Summary: What if Foyet makes Hotch choose between you and Haley during Season 5 Episode 9

Words: 1.5K

Warnings: angst; injury; kidnapping; near-death

Notes: Would you like a hospital part two?

Y/N’s POV

Foyet's voice, dripping with malice, reverberates through the room, sending icy tendrils of fear snaking down my spine. I can feel the weight of his words pressing down on us like a suffocating blanket, a cruel reminder of the nightmare we're trapped in. "You have to choose, Aaron," Foyet's words hang heavy in the air, each syllable laced with malice. "Choose who lives and who dies."

My heart lurches in my chest as I steal a glance at Haley beside me. Her once composed demeanour now shattered, tears glisten in her eyes like unshed diamonds, silent witnesses to the terror that grips us all. But beneath the fear, there's a silent plea, a desperate prayer for mercy that hangs unspoken in the air.

I reach out to Haley, my hand trembling with the weight of unspoken words, but she refuses to meet my gaze. Her eyes remain fixed on Hotch, her ex-husband, her silent cries echoing in the deafening silence of the room. I can feel the weight of her accusation, the unspoken blame that hangs heavy between us like a shadow. I want to comfort her, to offer her some shred of solace in this sea of darkness, but my words catch in my throat, suffocated by the overwhelming sense of helplessness that threatens to consume us all.

Hotch's new partner, that's what I am. A constant reminder of the life he left behind, the choices he made. And now, in this moment of unspeakable terror, those choices loom large, casting a long shadow over our fractured lives. The pain and terror on her face makes me act before I can think about it, jumping to my feet and punching Foyet as hard as I can, hearing a cracking that I’m not sure is me or him. He stumbles back and Haley is crying out in fear.

The gunshot that follows is deafening, the sound echoing through the room like a thunderclap. My head cracks against the floor, Haley screams and I can hear a muffled sound come through the phone before pain explodes in my shoulder, a searing agony that steals the air from my lungs. Everything around me blurs as waves of nausea wash over me, threatening to pull me under. I bite down hard on my lip to stile a cry, refusing to give Foyet the satisfaction of hearing me scream.

Through the haze of pain, I can hear the sharp intake of breaths from the phone, the panicked shouts echoing in my head. But, amidst the chaos, amidst the pain, one thought pierces through the fog in my mind - Jack. I have to protect Jack at all costs. He’s upstairs, vulnerable and unaware of the danger lurking downstairs.

With every ounce of determination I can muster, I push myself to my feet, the room spinning around me like a dervish of shadows and pain. Each step is a battle against the agony that courses through my wounded shoulder, threatening to pull me under with its relentless grip. But I refuse to yield. Jack needs me.

Stumbling and swaying like a ship caught in a tempest, I make my way towards the stairs, each movement a Herculean effort against the overwhelming tide of pain. The world distorts and blurs around me, the edges of my vision swimming in a sea of darkness and light. But I press on, driven by a single, unyielding purpose - to protect Jack at all costs. He's my beacon in the storm, my reason to endure, and I will not falter in my duty to keep him safe.

The stairs loom before me like a mountain to be conquered, each step a monumental struggle against the forces that seek to drag me down. And then, in a cruel twist of fate, my strength fails me, and I stumble, my body crashing against the unforgiving carpet below. Pain explodes in a symphony of agony, a chorus of screams that reverberates through the empty halls of my mind. Blood pools beneath me, staining the carpet crimson with its silent accusation.

But amidst the chaos, amidst the pain, there is a beacon of hope - Jack. With trembling hands, I crawl towards the wardrobe, my heart pounding in my chest at the sight of his small form nestled within its confines.

Relief washes over me like a tidal wave as I gather him into my arms, his warmth a balm against the cold embrace of fear that threatens to consume us both. In that moment, holding him close, everything feels right, as if the world has finally found its balance once more. But the illusion is shattered all too soon, replaced by the harsh reality of our situation. I look into Jack's eyes, so innocent and trusting, and feel a pang of guilt twist in the depths of my soul.

I have to ask him to do the unthinkable, to press his small jumper against the bleeding wound on my shoulder, to stay as quiet as possible and pray that help arrives before it's too late. With trembling hands, I reach out to Jack, my fingers trembling as I gently clamp my hand over his small mouth, a silent plea for his silence in the face of danger. Another gunshot reverberates through the house, its echo a chilling reminder of the horrors that lurk below. My heart sinks as Jack has just lost a parent and he doesn’t even know it.

“Don’t make a sound.” I whisper, my voice slurred with pain and exhaustion, the words a desperate prayer in the darkness that threatens to consume us both.

Jack's eyes are wide with fear, but there's a determination there too, a flicker of strength that belies his tender years. Despite the terror that grips him, he nods, his small hand instinctively pressing the jumper harder against my bleeding wound, as if trying to stem the tide of blood that threatens to spill forth.

As I begin to fade in and out of consciousness, the world around me blurs into a hazy labyrinth of pain and uncertainty. My hand slips from Jack's mouth, the warmth of his breath fading into the chill of the night as I teeter on the edge of oblivion. The darkness threatens to swallow me whole, its tendrils reaching out with icy fingers to drag me into the abyss.

I reagin consciousness momentarily, hearing Jack’s voice, small yet resolute as it pierces through the darkness like a beacon of hope, calling out for his dad and the members of the team he can remember the names of, a desperate plea.

And then, blessed oblivion claims me again, pulling me into its embrace with gentle hands and whispered promises of respite.

As consciousness gradually returns, it feels like emerging from the depths of a murky sea, the world slowly coming into focus around me. Sirens wail in a cacophony of urgency, their shrill cries cutting through the air like a clarion call to salvation. They rhythmic hum of the ambulance’s wheels against the road lulls me into a strange sense of calm, a respite from the chaos that has consumed me.

The pain in my shoulder, once a searing inferno threatening to consume me whole, now simmers beneath the surface like embers in the night, dulled by the merciful touch of oblivion.

And then, as if guided by some unseen hand, my gaze falls upon the one constant in this tumultuous storm - the hand clasped in mine. It's warm and steady, a silent reassurance amidst the chaos that surrounds us. Following the line of the hand with bleary eyes, I find myself locking gazes with Hotch, his presence a beacon of strength in the darkness that threatens to consume us. His eyes, filled with worry and relief, speak volumes without uttering a single word, a silent testament to the bond that binds us together.

“I’ve got you. You’re going to be okay.” He soothes despite being covered in blood himself. His other hand is shooting my hair off my face and I wanna snuggle into it but he’s covered in blood.

“Haley?” I ask, remembering the second gunshot and Hotch’s face flickers for a second before he squeezes my hand, bringing it up to his lips and kisses the back of it gently. It’s all I need to know that the muffled sound I heard through the phone after the gunshot was Hotch choosing.

A choked sob leaving my throat and Hotch presses a chaste kiss to my forehead, mumbling softly, “Rest, the others will meet us at the hospital.”

“Hotch.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“You chose me...”

“I chose you.”

Criminal Minds Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 21st Dec 2023

@guacam011y

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tomriddleslove · 3 months

Text

Blood on Love’s altar.

✩Tom Riddle x Reader

Summary: Tom Riddle did not know he could grieve. But now? He’d give up everything to not feel it.

Warnings: Mentions of Death, Suicide, Self Mutilation (brief)

A/N: 🙂

Song: Dove - Antihoney

Antent - hope to see you again

“You ought to put that away before Professor Dumbledore sees.”

The very first words you spoke to Tom.

First year, 2 weeks into school. It was a Thursday afternoon, to be precise. It was during a transfiguration lesson. Tom had managed to nab a copy of Markov’s ‘A Guide to the Dark Arts’. It was a forbidden book, but one that had greatly intrigued him. He held it under the table, reading.

You nudged him and when he sent you a scowl you did not look away, rather speaking those very words.

“You ought to put that away before Professor Dumbledore sees.”

He just about manages to snap the book shut and shove it into his bag when Dumbledore walks past, the eclectic man giving the pair of you a once over before moving to the next desk.

The second time he spoke to you was in the library a few days later.

“Still sticking your nose in the restricted section?” You pry, sliding up behind him as he startles. He turns to face you, a look of annoyance on his face as he speaks.

"And what business is it of yours?" he retorted, his eyes narrowing.

“You’ve already quite the reputation. Lurking in the restricted section should taint that, no?” You hum.

Infuriating. Nosy. Intransigent.

-•-

“Morning Riddle.” You quip as you walk into potions, taking a seat next to him.

Second year, 3rd day back.

He looks at you but says no more, internally cursing you.

You work on a strengthening solution and accidentally drop a jar of bat spleens onto Tom’s bag.

He debates getting back at you for it, but he doesn’t.

Clumsy. Persistent. Agitating.

-•-

Third year, same scene, same setting.

"Still poking your nose where it doesn't belong?" you tease, sidling up to him with a mischievous grin.

Tom's annoyance flares, but there's a flicker of something else in his eyes, a begrudging amusement perhaps. "You never learn, do you?" he mutters, though there's less bite in his tone this time.

You laugh, the sound echoing through the potions classroom. "Where's the fun in following the rules?" you reply, settling into the seat beside him.

Tom's lips twitch into an almost imperceptible smile before he turns his attention back to the brewing cauldron. Your laugh isn’t awful, he supposes.

-•-

Fourth Year, Charms. The sun was particularly nice that day. It casts a lovely glow on your face.

Professor Trinfort announced a partner project, pairing students for a collaborative spellcasting assignment. As fate would have it, you found yourself paired with Tom Riddle.

You exchange a glance, nudging him lightly. "Looks like it's you and me," you say with a faint smile.

Tom nods, his expression less guarded than before. "Seems that way," he replies, his tone less curt than usual.

As the two of you work together, you notice a subtle shift in Tom's demeanour. He's more open to your suggestions and more willing to listen to your ideas. There’s a newfound ease between you, and you don’t say anything for fear of disturbing it. Tom has left one of his books on his desk again. Professor Trinfort was walking past and you quickly grabbed the book, hiding it underneath your bag. Tom notices and looks at you with an unreadable expression for a second.

Nosy. Irritating. Perhaps not too bad, though.

-•-

5th year. You’re not there. Your absence is noticeable in the first week. It’s suffocating in the second.

Tom finds himself searching for you in the corridors, and he cannot help but feel as though something is missing. He values the quiet he now has during lessons, but it’s not as rewarding as he thought it would be. There’s a nagging feeling in him that he can’t quite shake.

He learns very quickly that you’d been attacked on the first day of term and had been in the hospital wing for quite a while. He visits you whilst you’re sleeping. He stares at your weakened form, not moving. It’s odd, seeing you in such a state.

You wake the next morning to news of the perpetrators being withdrawn from school after they all woke up missing fingers. You somehow know who it is.

Tom does not visit you till you are asleep. When he does, he places your book by your bedside. He doesn’t let himself stay for too long, berating his foolishness as he leaves.

-•-

6th Year. Tensions are running high after the death of Myrtle Warren. You’re all to face your boggarts, and Tom notices how apprehensive you are. You chew at your bottom lip, leg bouncing up and down relentlessly.

He places his hand over your thigh, focusing ahead as you turn to look at him.

“It’s agitating.” He mutters, and he can tell how ridiculous it sounds. You suppress a smile and turn back to the front.

He can tell you’re a bit shaken up from the lesson, so he offers to study with you in the library during the evening. He meets you after dinner, spotting you in the far corner.

You’re wearing a black corduroy skirt—a white vest with lace trimmings and a baggy green cardigan. You’ve pinned your hair back with your wand, the end of your quill pressed to your lips as you work. You’re rather beautiful, he notices. He takes a seat next to you, ignoring the smile you beam as you work together.

Hours have passed and he hasn’t noticed, enjoying your company. He feels a weight on his shoulder and turns, realising you’ve fallen asleep. He huffs in annoyance but he does not move, a hand coming up to remove your glasses from your face as he carefully sets them down on the table. You wake up in your bed, your books neatly placed on your desk. You must have come back at some point, you think to yourself.

-•-

“Hey,” You hum, plopping down next to Tom on the frosty glass near the black lake.

“Morning.” He responds, not looking up from his book as he acknowledges you. You reach into your satchel, producing a small thermos flask. You transfigure a pebble into a cup and pour a glass of steaming cinnamon tea for Tom.

As you hand him the cup of cinnamon tea, Tom finally looks up from his book, a faint hint of surprise crossing his features at the unexpected gesture. He accepts the tea with a nod of thanks, taking a sip before setting it down beside him.

"Thank you," he says quietly, his voice softer than usual, a hint of warmth in his tone that catches you off guard.

You smile in response, a gentle warmth spreading through you at the sight of his rare display of gratitude. "You're welcome," you reply, “Cinnamon tea is my favourite comfort drink.” You add, and Tom finds himself storing that piece of information in the ever-growing folder in his brain labelled ‘you.’

-•-

7th Year. Tom is elected Head Boy. You’re a bit upset you didn’t get Head Girl, but you suppose you weren’t that extraordinary. Tom feels otherwise.

You still got awarded prefect and found yourself paired on patrols with Tom.

“Seems like the universe is set on keeping us together. You finally warming up to me Tom?” You tease, grinning lopsidedly as you both roam down the dark, empty hallways. He meets your gaze with a small smile of his own, a rare display of warmth that sends a flutter of excitement through you. "Perhaps," he replies cryptically, though the glint in his eyes betrays a hint of fondness that you can't help but return.

You continue to walk in silence for a bit more till you (stupidly) have an idea. Upon digging around in your pocket you find a Gorpin’s exploding powered parcels, a tiny thing about the size of an acorn that exploded colourful powder when thrown. With a small grin, you call Tom’s name, tossing the parcel at him. He turns around and meets your gaze for a second before he’s enveloped in a cloud of pastel blue.

You laugh at the sight, clutching your stomach as a string of giggles escape your lips. As the cloud slowly clears, a flicker of uncertainty crosses your mind, a sudden fear that perhaps you've overstepped some invisible boundary. Your smile fades, replaced by a furrow of worry as you open your mouth to apologize.

But before you can utter a word, something unexpected happens. Tom's lips quirk up into a small smile, and he’s chasing after you.

“Tom!” You laugh, the sweet sound echoing through the halls as you begin running away from him.

His laughter joins yours, his footsteps getting closer and closer as you turn a corner. Your lungs burn, laughter bubbling from within you when you’re suddenly swept upwards, two strong arms wrapping around your midsection.

“Got you. Gonna make you pay for this.” Tom says, an uncharacteristic smirk on his face as he practically hauls you over his shoulder.

“Wait, Tom!” You protest, a yelp escaping your lips as he begins running with you in his arms.

Your protests are ignored as you enter the prefect's bathroom, and the second his intentions are clear you laugh, whilst pleading. He shifts his hold on you so you're being carried almost bridal style, and he raises a brow as he looks down at you.

“Wait, Tom. It doesn’t have to be like this.” You plead, trying to free yourself from his gasp. A smile tugs at his lips as he hums, seeming to retreat for a second. But he then holds you tighter, and in two swift steps jumps straight into the baths (which was more like a pool), sending you both into the water. A small shriek escapes your lips, and as you resurface from the water, laughing and sputtering, you shoot Tom a mock-complaining look. "Tom, you're incorrigible," you exclaim, your laughter bubbling up between your words.

Tom chuckles, the sound resonating in the spacious bathroom as he treads water beside you. For a moment, his gaze lingers on you, admiring you.

"You're quite something, you know that?" he says softly, the words carrying a warmth that sends a shiver down your spine.

Before you can respond, he closes the distance between you, his lips meeting yours in a kiss. You all but melt into the kiss, a hand coming up to cup his face, resting in his drenched black curls as you sigh into his mouth.

“Tom…” You murmur.

He’s never heard a more beautiful sound.

It’s nearing a month till your final exams and you haven’t seen Tom for a few days. You venture up to his dorm, knocking on his door.

“Tom?” You call out softly, leaning against the door. “It’s me.”

There’s silence for a second, and then the door unlocks.

As the door creaks open, you find Tom sitting on his bed, looking pale and dishevelled. He coughs weakly, his gaze meeting yours with a hint of surprise before he quickly looks away.

"Hey," you say softly, stepping into the room and closing the door behind you. "I heard you've been under the weather. Thought I'd come to check on you."

Tom nods, his expression unreadable as he shifts uncomfortably on the bed. "Yeah, just a bit under the weather," he mutters, his voice hoarse.

You frown, concern creasing your brow as you move closer to him. "You should be resting," you say gently, reaching out to feel his forehead for signs of fever.

Tom flinches slightly at your touch, but he doesn't pull away. Instead, he meets your gaze with a hint of vulnerability in his eyes. "I know," he admits quietly, "but I hate feeling like this. It's... frustrating."

You nod in understanding, your heart aching at the sight of him looking so uncharacteristically vulnerable. "I brought you some cinnamon tea," you say, pulling a thermos flask and a few biscuits from your bag. "Thought it might help."

Tom's lips quirk up into a small smile at your thoughtful gesture, a hint of gratitude shining through his usual stoicism. "Thank you," he murmurs, his voice softer than usual.

You smile back, and Tom shuffles over to give you some space. You take a seat next to him, crossing your legs as you pour him a cup of tea. You blow on the tea to cool it slightly, taking an experimental sip to ensure it’s not too hot. When you're satisfied with the temperature, you hand the cup over to Tom. He twists it around to make sure his lips touch the same part of the cup yours did. It faintly tastes of cherry lip balm.

You don’t notice the gesture.

You lean back against the headboard, legs outstretched in front of you as you stare up at his ceiling.

“You should go. You’ll get sick.” Tom murmurs, his voice laced with an uncharacteristic apprehension that has you smiling.

“It’s fine.” You smile. You shuffle down slightly and very carefully place your head on Tom’s chest.

He tenses for a second but relaxes soon after. His hand hesitates for a moment before tentatively coming to rest on your shoulder, his touch light and cautious as if unsure of whether he's allowed to show such vulnerability.

"You don't have to stay," he murmurs softly, his voice barely above a whisper, but you can hear the underlying plea in his words.

You shake your head, a small smile playing on your lips as you nestle closer to him. "I want to," you reply simply, the warmth of his body seeping into yours, banishing the chill of the room.

“You shouldn’t.” He repeats, and his words are undoubtedly laced with an underlying meaning that should warn you.

But if you realise that, he certainly can’t tell. You simply close your eyes and speak.

“I’ve never been the best at listening, have I?”

-•-

Exams are over, and graduation day arrives. Tom feels a conflicting mix of emotions swirling within him, and he hates the fact he’s grappling with things he shouldn’t be worried about. On one hand, there's a sense of relief that he won't have to worry about dragging you into the complexities of his life any longer. The thought of you being free from the burdens and dangers that often accompany his endeavours brings him a measure of solace.

Yet, at the same time, there's a pang of sadness that ebbs away at him when realizes that this may be the last time he'll see you. The prospect of saying goodbye, of parting ways, suddenly becomes unthinkable, and he feels a little sick.

As he scans the crowd of graduates, his gaze eventually lands on you, a soft smile gracing your lips as you chat animatedly with your friends. For a fleeting moment, he considers approaching you and saying goodbye properly, but the fear of attachment holds him back.

Instead, he watches from a distance, silently wishing you well. As the ceremony draws to a close and the graduates begin to disperse, he turns to leave, only praying you’ll never have to see him again.

But just as he's about to turn away, you catch his eye, a knowing smile playing on your lips as you make your way over to him. "Hey, Tom," you say softly, your voice filled with warmth and affection.

Tom's heart skips a beat at the sight of you, his resolve wavering in the face of your unwavering presence. "Hey," he replies, his voice barely above a whisper.

You smile up at him, a glimmer of mischief dancing in your eyes. "Trying to run away? You know, you won't get rid of me that easily," you tease lightly, reaching out to gently squeeze his hand.

Tom's lips twitch into a small smile, a flicker of hope betraying his rationale at your words. "I certainly hope not," he murmurs, his voice barely audible over the din of the crowd.

You lean up on your tip toes, pressing a light kiss to his cheek. You pull back and a small laugh escapes your lips, rubbing the faint lipstick mark it left.

Nosy. Irritating. Beautiful.

Tom doesn’t see you for a year after that.

A hesitant knock at the door of your dingy little flat nearing 1:00 am has you alert, and slightly on edge. You reach for your wand, carefully treading towards the door so as to not alert a potential intruder of your presence. You peer through the peephole, and you feel as though your world stops when you see Tom outside.

Hastily undoing the wards and spells that enchant your flat, you unlock the door and Tom all but collapses into your arms.

He reeks of dark magic, and you know. You’ve always known, really. What other mind could be so sadistically brilliant, who else would be able to crumble the Romanian Ministry of magic in a mere week?

You pull Tom into your flat, closing the door behind him as you guide him to the nearest chair. He looks drained, his usually sharp features drawn and weary. Blood stains his clothes, tension evident on his face.

You set to work immediately, inspecting the various wounds all over his body as you frantically recite healing spells, rummaging through a small leather trunk filled with an assortment of vials.

Tom observes you through half lidded eyes that threaten to permanently shut.

He always knew you’d become a healer. He had known since that day you came into his dorm and took care of him when he was ill. He had known since that day you had found an injured crow lying by the side of the greenhouse and nursed it back to full health in a mere hour.

You preserved lives, he took them.

“Up.” You murmur, pulling the hem of his shirt. He obliges, pulling his lead-like arms up as you unbutton his shirt and pull it off. You frown at the scars that mar Tom's chest and he wants to laugh.

Don’t stress over me, sweetheart. It’d be better off for you if I were dead.

He no longer flinches at your touch as you trail your hands down his chest, murmuring spells that alleviate the ache. You're exhausted by the time you're done, slinging Tom’s arm over your shoulder as you help him walk over to your bed.

He settles onto the bed with a heavy sigh, his body sinking into the mattress as if it's the first time he's allowed himself to truly relax in ages. You gently place your blanket atop of him, your brow furrowed as you take a seat at the edge of your bed.

You brush a strand of hair away from his forehead, his eyes drifting shut as exhaustion finally overtakes him. You watch over him for a while longer, lingering by his bedside as he slips into a fitful sleep.

You can't help but wonder how things came to this. How the boy you once knew, the one who had captured your heart with his sharp wit and brilliant mind, had become so lost.

You slide into your bed beside him and turn over, your back facing his. You let your eyes shut and find yourself falling asleep.

You wake up in the morning, and you know before you even turn around. Your bed was empty, barely a trace of warmth left. You had to be sure you didn’t dream last night's events, padding into the kitchen as you yawn.

A singular cup of warm cinnamon tea is there. You smile softly as you take the cup.

You didn’t see him for another two years after that. The news got worse and worse. Attacks were often and many. People were scared to leave the house.

Just when you've almost given up hope of ever seeing him again, there's a knock at your door in the dead of night. You're startled awake, heart pounding as you stumble out of bed and rush to answer it.

As you swing the door open, you're met with the sight of Tom standing there, looking worse for wear. His clothes are torn, his face bruised and bloodied, and it feels like a scene all too familiar.

Without a word, you reach out and slap him across the face, the sound echoing in the silence of the night.

Tom's startled reaction is almost comical, his hand flying up to his cheek as he recoils from the force of the blow. He stares at you in shock, his eyes wide with disbelief as he tries to process what just happened.

You glare at him, your fists clenched at your sides as you let out a string of curses, venting all the frustration and anger that has been building up inside you for years.

"You can't just waltz in and out of my life whenever you please," you spit out, your voice trembling with emotion. "You can't just show up here, covered in blood and bruises, and expect me to drop everything and help you."

Tom opens his mouth to speak, but you cut him off with a sharp gesture, your eyes blazing with determination.

"But you know what the worst part is?" you continue, your voice dropping to a whisper. "The worst part is that no matter how angry I am, no matter how much I want to hate you, I can't. Because despite everything, I still fucking care about you! I sit there, and I read the news, and every day I pray it’s not your death I’m seeing. Do you know how fucked up that is?"

For a moment, there's silence between you, the weight of your words hanging heavy in the air.

"I know," he murmurs, his voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart.

Before you can say anything else, he pulls you into a kiss, his lips pressing against yours with a desperation that takes your breath away.

You melt into the kiss, your anger melting away as you wrap your arms around him, pulling him closer. Despite everything, you know that you can't stay away.

For better or for worse, you're his weakness, and he's yours.

He pulls back and you have to resist the urge to dissolve into tears, bottom lip wavering as he pulls you into his chest.

“Don’t you dare leave. Don’t you dare fucking leave.” You tremble into his chest, and his heart pangs at your plea as he speaks.

“I won’t.”

He stuck to his word. He hated you for it. But he hated himself more. Because every second he stayed, was only binding you more and more to your demise. He was killing you, he knew it would happen, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to leave.

You erode his being, taking away everything that he was sure he was certain of. There were many times he would contemplate simply killing you, ridding himself of this foolish weakness that was causing him so much turmoil. A single look at you and Tom knew that there would be little to no meaning for immortality if you weren’t to be there beside him.

Tom would disappear for days on end, and you’d hear about an attack shortly after. He’d always come back. You turned a blind eye to his actions, ignoring the furious accusations of corpses that lay there in your name.

Truthfully, you could stop him. You knew that you could turn him in, and he wouldn’t dare lay a hand on you. But you didn’t, and so by association every person he killed had their blood on your hands too.

You had been called by Tom at the crack of dawn one morning. His voice echoed through your head, waking you from your slumber.

Clifford close. House 17.

You apparate without second thought, your eyes widening as you take in the scene.

Tom is standing there, covered in blood that you’re sure is not his. You turn around and spot another person, a frail old man who can barely look up.

The frail old man's plea is cut short as a burst of green light erupts from Tom's wand, ending his life in an instant. You watch in horror as the life drains from the man's eyes, a sickening realization settling in the pit of your stomach.

Tom turns to you, his eyes gleaming with a dark intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. Without a word, he turns his wand to you, muttering something that knocks you straight out.

He knows that making you a Horcrux is a drastic and irreversible decision, one that will bind your soul to his for eternity. But at the same time, he can't bear the thought of losing you.

The idea of immortality without you by his side is unbearable, and he knows that making you a Horcrux is the only way to ensure that you'll always be together. It's a selfish decision, born out of desperation and fear of losing the one person who has come to mean everything to him.

A sense of self-loathing creeps in. He knows that making you a Horcrux will condemn you to a life of despair, but he can't shake the feeling that he has no other choice.

When you awaken, you find yourself back in your apartment, the events of the previous moments feeling like a distant nightmare. Tom is sitting beside you, his expression unreadable as he watches you stir.

"Are you alright?" he asks, his voice filled with concern.

You blink in confusion, trying to make sense of what just happened. You recall the sight of the old man dying before you and slap a hand over your mouth, stumbling out of bed as you rush towards the bathroom. You collapse over the toilet bowl, retching. Your eyes sting, and you don’t hear Tom coming in until you feel a comforting hand on your back, one holding your hair up.

“Get the fuck off me.” You snap, pushing him away with a weak shove as you cough.

Tom steps back, his brows furrowing in concern. "What happened?" he asks, his voice tinged with worry.

You whirl around to face him, your anger boiling over as you shout, "You killed a man in front of me!"

He takes a step towards you, his voice cool and collected. "You must have been imagining things," he asserts, his tone firm and unwavering. "We were home all night yesterday."

Your hands tremble with anger and disbelief as you glare at him, tears blurring your vision. "You're lying!" you sob, your voice cracking with emotion. "You're making me seem crazy!"

Tom's gaze narrows slightly, a flicker of irritation crossing his features. "I assure you, I am not," he retorts, his voice tinged with impatience. "If you don't believe me, use Legilimency on me. Check for yourself."

You close your eyes, muttering legilimens under your breath. You probe into his mind, and he doesn’t keep his guard up.

In Tom's mind, you see a vividly detailed memory of him being home all night. He sits with you by the fireplace, a glass of whiskey in hand, engrossed in a book. You drink with him, a drunken giggle escaping your lips as you kiss him.

As you pull away from his mind, a sense of dread washes over you. The memory he showed you is so convincing, so detailed, that you find yourself doubting your own recollection of events.

You come back to this reality, blinking as you suck in deep breaths.

Tom's expression softens slightly, a hint of sympathy in his eyes as he reaches out to gently touch your shoulder. "It's alright," he murmurs reassuringly. "You had quite a bit to drink last night. You're probably just tired."

You nod, though you can’t rid yourself of the nagging feeling within you. Slowly sitting up, you follow Tom back to your bedroom. You lay back down in bed with him, convincing yourself it was a nightmare.

The second you close your eyes, the man calls out to you.

It’s very real.

In the following months, the cycle of Tom's disappearances and reappearances continues, each time leaving you more drained than before. You watch helplessly as he delves deeper into darkness, his actions becoming increasingly erratic and unpredictable.

You're alone in your apartment when it happens, a sudden surge of overwhelming emotions washing over you. You double over in pain, clutching your head as a vision flashes before your eyes.

In the vision, you see Tom, his face contorted in rage as he inflicts unspeakable torture upon an innocent victim. The scene is so vivid, so horrifying, that you can barely believe what you're seeing.

Gasping for breath, you stumble back, your heart racing as you try to make sense of the vision. You feel sick, your mind reeling as you stumble back into one of the chairs.

Tom returns in the evening, and you cannot bear looking at him.

You wash the blood off his hands. He could have used a cleaning spell, but he prefers for you to do it instead. To face the reality of what you’ve chosen. To wash the blood off his hands knowing it could have been yours.

You do not ask him about the vision, because you want to delude yourself into the comfortable reality that it was merely a nightmare of sorts.

‘Those only occur during sleep’ a voice points out in your head. You choose to ignore it.

Egged on by confusion and fear, you begin reading. Researching. A mirror image of Tom, hiding dark books from his sight as you read.

You bring it up one day.

You stand in the kitchen, brewing some tea as you speak.

“Is it possible to make a Horcrux out of a human?”

Tom's eyes widen in alarm, a flicker of apprehension crossing his features before he quickly masks it with a calm facade. "Why would you ask such a thing?" he replies, his voice steady despite the unease that lingers in the air.

You don't miss the subtle shift in his demeanour, the way his gaze flits away from yours for just a moment before returning.

You shrug nonchalantly, feigning innocence as you pour the tea into a pair of mugs. "Just curious," you say casually, though your heart pounds in your chest.

Tom watches you closely, his expression unreadable as he takes a sip of his tea. "It's not something that should concern you," he says finally, his tone firm.

"But is it possible?" you press, your voice tinged with determination.

Tom's jaw clenches, his gaze hardening as he meets your eyes. "Yes," he admits reluctantly, his voice barely above a whisper. "But it's a dark and dangerous magic, not something to be trifled with."

You nod slowly, your mind whirling with possibilities. "I see," you murmur, though you're already formulating a plan in your head.

You reach for one of the barely touched knives nestled in the drawer you had open and without second thought stab it straight through your hand.

Tom immediately drops the cup he holds, rushing over to you.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” He exclaims, eyes wide with disbelief as he stares down at the gruesome sight.

You grit your teeth, a pained sob escaping your lips as you yank the knife back out, and Tom’s heart is pounding at the sight of your blood dripping onto his hands.

“[Name], please. Stop-“ He pleads, stammering as he tries to staunch the bleeding.

You watch in disbelief as your skin begins to heal itself together, an almost grotesque sight. It seals together, and in no less than a minute it’s completely healed, not a scar in sight.

Your stomach fills with dread, eyes widened in betrayal as you look up at Tom. His gaze meets yours, guilt riddled in his eyes as you snatch your hand away.

"Fuck," you shout, your voice filled with a mix of pain and fury. Tears stream down your face as you struggle to process the revelation. "You... you made me a fucking Horcrux?!"

Tom's face pales, his own emotions mirroring the turmoil within you. He takes a step forward,

"I... I didn't mean for this to happen," he stammers, his voice laced with desperation. "I never wanted to hurt you."

But your rage consumes you, and you lash out at him, your voice filled with venom. "You ruined me, you fucking monster!" you scream, your words echoing through the room. "How could you do this to me? How could you use me like this?"

Tears mix with your words as you continue to berate him, your emotions spiralling out of control. You feel a searing pain deep within your chest, reaching out to shove him.

“I’m sorry. I thought it would work out! You’ll be immortal! Can’t you see it’s-“ He starts, and you snap.

"Sorry won't fix this!" you cry out, your voice breaking. "You've destroyed me, Tom. I can never be whole again."

He doesn’t know what to say, remaining silent as he tries to reach out to you.

“Get out!” You scream, reaching for your glass as you throw it in Tom’s direction. It smashes against the wall behind him, but he can’t look away from you.

He ruined you. He really did.

"Get the fuck out!" you scream, your voice filled with venom. You grab whatever is within reach and hurl it in his direction. Books, vases, anything that can cause damage. Each object crashes against the walls, shattering into countless pieces.

Tom has never felt like crying before, but this might be the first time he does. He turns and leaves, for he can’t bear to face what he’s done to you.

He was weak, after all.

You sink to the ground, your body racking with sobs as you hide your face in your hands.

What a cruel thing it was. Even if you wanted to, you could never permanently rid yourself of Tom.

You claw at your chest, as though you can just pull the fragment of Tom’s soul that was bound with yours.

You feel trapped, imprisoned within your own body. Your heart aches with a profound sadness, knowing that you were both beyond redemption. If only you hadn’t warned him that day if only you weren’t selected as a prefect, if only you didn’t try to save him.

Tom hasn’t heard from you for weeks. He doesn’t dare intrude either, no. He had already done enough damage.

The date is permanently engraved in his mind.

August the 17th. 7:03 pm.

He feels a searing pain in his chest. His hand comes up to clutch his heart as a pained groan escapes his lips. He can’t see for a second, his vision blurred.

Every breath is a struggle as he clutches his chest, his heart pounding against his ribcage.

The realization hits him like a tidal wave.

A Horcrux must have been destroyed. He only had two to date.

One was the ring engraved with his family sybil, which he wore on his hand.

The other?

Fear grips him, a fear he has never known before.

No. No. No. No. No. No.

He all but stumbles upwards, his mind focusing on one image as he apparates without a second thought. He appears at the door of your flat and doesn’t entertain the idea of knocking, bursting through the door with such force it splinters.

“[Name]?” He calls out, his voice a desperate plea as he searches through the eerily quiet apartment.

His heart pounds in his chest, his breaths shallow and rapid as he calls out your name, his voice laced with desperation and urgency.

"[Name]?" he repeats, the sound of his voice echoing through the silent space. There is a sense of foreboding, a heaviness in the air as he navigates the chaos, his eyes scanning every corner, every shadow.

His footsteps are quick and purposeful as he moves from room to room, his senses heightened, attuned to any flicker of your presence.

Finally, his gaze lands on a small table, and there, amidst the disarray, he sees a letter addressed to him. His heart skips a beat as he snatches it up, but within the depths of his mind, he knows what the contents of the letter will read.

Tom.

You by no doubt will know by now. I must preface by saying that I hate you. I will never ever forgive you for what you’ve done to me.

I remember with frightening clarity the day we had both first met. You were quite rude, but you backed down slightly when I had covered for you. It was then that I knew you must have not had very good people around you in your upbringing, for you were very reserved.

Despite all that, despite the fact that it was a very clear warning not to get entangled with you, I still did.

Year after year, I persisted. I could tell when you got annoyed, yet I did not give up. I was determined to know who Tom Riddle was.

I knew I loved you the day you had stayed with me after that boggart lesson. It’s rather silly, it was quite possibly the bare minimum someone could have done. But coming from you? Merlin, it was essentially the same as being gifted the moon.

I was not oblivious to what you were doing. Even from a young age, I knew of your plans, of your intentions. I suppose in a sense you’re not to blame, for I chose to love you willingly.

I only wish you had trusted me. You may have loved me, but you never trusted me. If you did, you’d have known my soul was already yours. I was bound to you indefinitely, there was no chance I wouldn’t have loved you.

I wanted love, you wanted devotion. They aren’t the same, my love. Devotion would have been me following you to the ends of the earth if you asked without question. Love would have been me not wanting to, but knowing I’d travel further to save you should you need it.

I would have given the world for you, Tom. I just wish you had let me do it on my own accord.

I love you. I always will. I always have. If there is a heaven though, I hope we never meet again.

Do not be afraid to be human. You, out of despair, and fear, and greed, drove everyone away from you. You cannot mourn a loss that you perpetuated. We are all human, flawed and imperfect. You are too. You may try to avoid it, you can split your soul and continue killing, but you’re only deflecting the truth.

I hope in my death you will meet your own. Mortality is a beautiful thing, Tom.

Do not postpone it. Existence has no better gift.

- [Name.]

-•-

It’s rather cruel how he can recall the entirety of your life in mere minutes. It doesn’t feel right, for the only time Tom truly lived was when he was with you. A lifetime, an eternity.

A mere recollection as he stands at your grave.

The rain is harsh, unforgiving. It seeps into his skin though he’s grateful, for some feeling was better than none.

He thought he would be immune to grief. It wasn’t that bad of a thing.

He can’t recall a day he hasn’t thought about you.

He threw himself further into the dark arts. He became more prominent, more ruthless. Many thought he was simply becoming more powerful.

Tom only hoped that in his efforts someone would find a way to end him. He threw himself into the most haphazard situations with the hope that a spell would misfire, that he would make an enemy of someone who would be able to kill him.

His eyes flicker up to the tree that grows above your grave. It was perhaps the first and only time he had cultivated a living thing.

Cinnamomum verum.

His fingers trace the inscription on the stone. Your laughs are buried deep within the recesses of his mind. They echo everytime he steps foot into your apartment.

It had been 6 years since you were found dead. He hasn’t touched a single thing. He sees life in your unmade bed, in the plants that he has an elf tend to. He keeps your necklace on him at all time, rolling the small pendant between his fingers when he finds himself thinking of you.

He forgoes tending to his own wounds. If it killed him then so be it.

There is not a day that goes by when he doesn’t read your letter.

Losing you was beyond losing a piece of his soul.

It was losing everything.

#slytherin #slytherin boys #tom riddle #harry potter #draco malfoy #lorenzo berkshire #slytherin boys fic #theodore nott #blaise zabini #pansy parkinson #tom riddle x you #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle angst #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle fic

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pen-and-umbra · 1 month

Text

FFVII Rebirth introduces something never extensively explored in the original game or in the compilation of Final Fantasy VII: Sephiroth's anger towards Professor Gast’s experiment and the contempt he came to harbor towards ShinRA as an organization.

(Herein lurk spoilers.)

While the latter is something the fans have glimpsed on and off throughout previous installments, the second part of the Remake amplifies it ever so more. What began as admitting that the company had fabricated his legend and expressing a desire to live a normal life in Ever Crisis gradually transforms into a lack of clarity regarding his reasons for fighting in Before Crisis (as prompted by Elfe), followed by an open disgust towards Hojo's and Hollander's experiments when confronted with Mako pod entities during the hunt for Genesis. Sephiroth and Zack's ordeal during Crisis Core events appears to undercut his willingness to stay, as he famously considers leaving the corporation right before embarking on the ill-fated Nibelheim expedition.

FFVIIRb picks off where we left off, painting a more complete picture of Sephiroth's dissatisfaction with ShinRA overall. Interestingly, one of the discarded sequences from the original game featured Sephiroth hinting at his lack of affection for his employer as early as the truck ride.

Narratively, the sequence spans the gap between OG and Crisis Core's departure cutscene, implying that Sephiroth used the time on the road to reflect on his current and future connection with ShinRA. His companion, however, does not appear to understand why he is bringing the topic up. What distinguishes Rebirth is the suggestion that Sephiroth came to view the entire ShinRA system as a problem, rather than just a few rotten apples. He no longer singles out Hojo, but rather the entire ShinRA branch, indicating that something's wrong with the system. When "Cloud" casually inquires about the problem with the Nibelheim reactor, Sephiroth responds that it is "people who run it," adding that this particular site is controlled by the Research and Development department. In addition, in response to "Cloud's" fair comment regrading the lack of transparency in company's operation, he rather sarcastically suggests to bring the issue with the President, thus implicitly conveying the futility of the endeavor.

When the party encounters Mako pod residents, one can detect genuine rage in his voice. While Sephiroth had previously shown bitterness for the test subjects during CC, it was tinged with disgust/pity rather than wrath. And once again, I’m grateful to Tyler Hoechlin for broadening his range in this particular segment.

"Cloud's" reaction to the contents of the pods, however, came off a little weird. The confusion appears out of place, because Zack had seen it all before — he had been there to watch the aftermath of Hollander's work; is it really odd that ShinRA's chief R&D scientist spearheaded the entire thing? Perhaps, unlike Sephiroth, Zack treated it as a rotten-apple issue, rather than a systemic issue. Or maybe this is an example of Cloud being an unreliable narrator, having conflated his own experience with that of Zack, which also explains Zack being sort of too green for the First Class throughout the Nibelheim portion of the game.

The shift in Sephiroth's perspective, from singling out Hojo's misdeeds to viewing ShinRA's itself as a systemic problem, is further highlighted during the mansion segment. This is no longer a strictly Hollander or Hojo issue. Human experimentation formed the fundamental core of what ShinRA is now, and those were approved from the very top. As Sephiroth puts it with barely concealed disgust, as soon as the company realized what had fallen into their hands, they became ambitious.

The wording also strikes a contrast to how he used to refer to the company in the past; as such, when Angeal deserts, Sephiroth states that Angeal has betrayed “US”, which points at both his personal connection to the person and the fact that Sephiroth likely saw himself as part of ShinRA circle. In the library, however, he distances himself by referring to the company as THEM, thus no longer perceiving himself as a part of it.

More important still is the rage he expresses when quoting excerpts from Gast's notes. The anger is new, never before seen touch. Sephiroth has been portrayed in the moment differently throughout earlier installments — dejected, perhaps overwhelmed, but never angry enough to snarl and nearly flip the table.

And it's wonderful. It's authentic, and it makes sense. It makes you question how much of that rage has been bottled up, compartmentalized, and never fully processed throughout the years. That rage should have existed, but was suppressed by ShinRA, before becoming internalized and sealed.

The scene is extremely on point on another level as well. As the flash of rage passes, and Sephiroth looks away, hiding eyes behind bangs — a gesture previously briefly appearing in Crisis Core.

One could interpret the body language as being ashamed and unwilling to show his composure cracking. Even in this state he KNOWS he wasn't supposed to let anyone see hurt or anger, wasn't supposed to lose cool. The "wonder child" and the "poster boy" is not to be seen as something other than “efficacious” and “collected”. The habit of suppressing displays of emotion or physical/psychological ailment had apparently become a part of himself. It doesn't take a lot of imagination to deduce why the habit persists. The internalized compulsion to live up to the expectations placed on him by ShinRA and the myth it imposed on his character, as well as the internalized imperative not to reveal to someone like Hojo — anyone— the extent to which their acts or words affect him. There's also another layer to this shame — one of being an artificial creation, but that's for another write up.

The anger towards Gast differs greatly from the way Sephiroth went “Why didn't you tell me?” in previous iterations of the Nibelheim incident. In retrospect, Gast's supervision of the project, involvement in Sephiroth's life, and unexpected departure seem like a betrayal. Gast had not only abandoned Sephiroth, who had likely come to see him as a salient figure in his youth, but had also been lying to him all along, until finally discarding him, as Sephiroth might believe. Gast therefore falls from grace, becoming yet another person who misled, attempted to exploit, and eventually abandoned him to deal with the consequences on his own.

#sephiroth #ff7 rebirth #ffvii rebirth #final fantasy vii rebirth #ff7 #ffvii #final fantasy 7 #ff7 remake #ffvii remake #ff7 crisis core #final fantasy vii #ffvii@luv fandoms

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dewdropdinosaur · 25 days

Text

Not Your Mother's

LUCIFER X READER

Summary: Lucifer and Alastor hate each other, no suprise. But what happens when Alastor threatens one of the only things Lucifer loves?

Warnings: Cussing, Violence. Rating: PG-13

For the dearest, @adeptusxiaohere, who read 'Our Mom' and thought of a different interpretation to Alastor's veiled threats!

This one is a bit longer, around 1.5k words.

See Masterlist for Request Status

In the bustling chaos of the Hazbin Hotel, where demons sought refuge and redemption, there existed a peculiar dynamic between two prominent figures: Lucifer and Alastor. Their disdain for each other was as notorious as the flames of Hell itself, an open secret whispered among the denizens of the hotel. Their clashes were legendary, echoing through the halls with the thunderous force of opposing titans. Yet, amidst their perpetual animosity, there was one figure who held a special place in both their hearts - a shining oasis of warmth and kindness, Y/N. Y/N's nurturing nature had endeared her to all, earning her the title of "mother", “mom”, “momma”, and even “abuela” among the residents of the hotel.

Of course, Lucifer found himself drawn to Y/N in ways he couldn't quite comprehend. Her compassion sparked something dormant within him, a longing for solace in the midst of his eternal torment. And so, they found solace in each other's company, their unlikely bond blossoming amidst the chaos of their surroundings.

However, Lucifer's newfound happiness did not sit well with Alastor. Beneath his jovial facade lurked a mad streak, his own rival taking something that he himself had provided to the Hotel. He owned Y/N's soul, how dare that insolent fallen angel touch something that he had rightfully won. Alastor, ever the enigmatic presence, watched their burgeoning relationship with a mixture of disdain and concern. To him, Lucifer was a rival not just for Y/N but for the very soul of the hotel itself. She provided something that even the Radio Demon could admit was special, reminding him of his own mother in a way; not that he would ever admit it. As Lucifer and Y/N's love blossomed, Alastor's facade began to crack. He masked his disdain with veiled threats, cloaked in the guise of protecting Y/N from Lucifer's supposed dark intentions. But with each passing day, his resentment festered, threatening to consume him whole.

Then, one fateful evening, in a moment of unchecked rage, Alastor's carefully constructed facade shattered. Per normal, the fit began as the two men challenged each other again.

The atmosphere in the Hazbin Hotel crackled with tension as Lucifer and Alastor found themselves locked in yet another heated exchange. Their words were barbed, their insults cutting like knives as they circled each other with predatory intent.

"You're nothing but a pathetic excuse for a demon, Alastor," Lucifer spat, his voice dripping with disdain. "A mere puppet with delusions of grandeur."

Alastor's grin widened, his eyes gleaming with malice. "And you, Lucifer, are nothing but a fallen angel clinging to the remnants of your former glory," he retorted, his tone laced with venom. "A pitiful relic of a bygone era."

Their words stung, each barb sinking deeper into wounds long festering. But Lucifer, never one to back down from a challenge, pushed the boundaries even further.

"At least I'm not hiding behind a mask, pretending to be something I'm not," he sneered, a cruel smirk twisting his lips. "Unlike you, Alastor, I have the courage to face the truth. That you are weak and worth no note of attention or fear."

Alastor chuckled, stepping forward and placing a hand on Y/N’s shoulder, leaning down so his head was right next to her head as he looked toward Lucifer. "You dare insult me, Lucifer?" Alastor growled, his voice dripping with jovial menace. "You dare to mock me while you hide behind the skirts of this pathetic mortal? Let’s see how you like things being taken from you just as you took from me."

The line struck a nerve within Lucifer, who lost all resolve at the threatening of his loved one. Throwing a punch, it barely nicked Alastor’s head who slunk awya in the shadows.

“Oh now, this is what I have been waiting for!” Slinking and dodging every punch and attack thrown his way, Alastor contininued to mock the King of Hell until Lucifer finally landed a punch and broke Alastor’s monocle.

Y/N's heart pounded in her chest as she struggled to comprehend the sudden turn of events. She had always been a beacon of peace and understanding, a guiding light in the darkest of times. But now, she found herself caught in the crossfire of a battle she had no part in. Having been caught in the wake of blasts, her body now was bruised and bloodied.

"Alastor, please," she pleaded, her voice trembling with emotion. "This isn't like you. We're all friends here. Can't we find a way to resolve this without resorting to violence?"

But her words fell on deaf ears as Alastor's rage consumed him whole at viewing the piece of broken glass. With a snarl of contempt, he turned his back on Y/N, his focus squarely fixed on Lucifer.

"This isn't over, Lucifer," he growled, his voice a low, menacing rumble. "Not by a long shot."

And with that ominous warning hanging in the air, Alastor summoned shadows, leaving behind a trail of destruction in his wake. As the echoes of his departure faded into silence, Y/N was left to pick up the pieces, her heart heavy with sorrow and regret. For in the world of demons and sinners, even the purest of souls could find themselves tainted by the darkness that lurked within.

The hotel trembled with the weight of Lucifer's wrath as he beheld the sight of Y/N, crumpled and wounded at Alastor's feet. In that moment, all pretense of civility vanished, replaced by a primal fury that consumed him whole.

With each blow exchanged between the two adversaries, Y/N's heart ached with a sorrow deeper than any physical wound. She had never imagined that their feud would escalate to such a destructive extent, nor had she ever anticipated becoming collateral damage in their battle of wills.

Through bleary eyes, Y/N watched as Lucifer and Alastor grappled with one another, their movements a blur of fury and desperation. Each punch landed with bone-crushing force, echoing through the hall like thunder in a storm-torn sky.

Summoning every ounce of strength within her battered body, Y/N pushed herself upright, determination burning in her eyes despite the agony that coursed through her veins. With shaky steps, she stumbled towards Lucifer and Alastor, her voice a hoarse whisper in the din of battle.

"Stop," she pleaded, her words barely audible above the din. "Please, stop..."

For a fleeting moment, the chaos seemed to abate as Lucifer and Alastor turned their gaze towards her, their expressions a mixture of shock and guilt. Y/N refused to back down. With a steely resolve born of love and compassion, she stepped between the warring demons, her outstretched arms a barrier against the violence that threatened to consume them all.

"Enough" she declared, her voice ringing with a clarity that cut through the chaos like a beacon in the darkness.

Both men let go of their death grips on each other and looked at the battered woman.

“Go to your rooms.”

“But ducky–”

“I said go to your room Lucifer, you too Al. I don’t want to see you till morning. Then this place better be cleaned spotless!”

Both men slunk away, as Y/N sighed, viewing the mess of the lobby around her. Plopping down on the nearest couch, Y/N drug her hands over her face.

“Shit, did hot momma just put the Radio Demon and the King of Hell in time out?”

“Angel, shut your fucking mouth.”

“You could always find ways to shut it up, Whiskers.”

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7-wonders · 6 months

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whenever the fates called morpheus love or dear it just gives me this image of morpheus coming to meet reader at their volunteer job at an old peoples home and all the elderly ladies giggling and calling him such a handsome man and why if they were a few decades younger they'd have him for themselves you're standing in the background not knowing how to reply to any of that

(This was like pulling teeth. When will my ability to write return from war?)

There are many little quirks when it comes to being in a relationship with a primordial, all-powerful being such as Dream of the Endless. One such instance is that time does not run the same for an Endless as it does for a human. Morpheus can lose minutes, hours, days to his duties between one blink and the next.

The Dreaming, that fantastical kingdom that your lover rules over, runs on the same logic. You can spend what feels like an hour in the Dreaming, only for it to be an entire day later in the Waking. Likewise, weeks in the Dreaming can be merely an hour in the Waking. It's disconcerting to creatures that have lived far longer than you.

All of this is to say that your meetings often don't have a specific date or time when they're in the Waking, simply because Morpheus doesn't know. He tries, though it's difficult: clocks do not work in the Dreaming, and Matthew is too important a raven to be constantly flying to the Waking to check the time so that Morpheus can "run off" (Matthew's words) with you. You've actually started to look forward to the spontaneity—it helps that he usually gets lucky and catches you when you're home or alone and don't have to worry about explaining how he just randomly appeared out of thin air.

Though it's rare, him coming to the Waking to see you and you being in public has happened before. This time, he shows up when you're just finishing up at the retirement home you volunteer at a couple times a month—you're in charge of what's supposed to be a crossword puzzles group, but what is mainly just a gossip group.

Most mortals aren't able to see Morpheus when he doesn't want to be seen. You're not most mortals, however, and you've gotten pretty damn good at sensing when he's around, which is why you're the only one that notices him lurking in the corner closest to the door.

"Hi," you mouth, trying and failing to hide your grin as you give him a discreet wave.

Your excitement must be palpable, because the women quickly pick up on it and thus catch sight of a tall, dark, and handsome stranger across the room. Ethel, the boldest of the group by far, grabs your arm and yanks you down to her level. "Is that the boyfriend?"

"Yes, that's the boyfriend."

They all know about the boyfriend because you've gushed about your beloved to this little group more than a few times. How can you not, though? Especially when you're surrounded by those who enjoy living vicariously through you and thus cajole you into sharing such stories about your love life.

"She thought he was fake, y'know," Ida informs you.

"Did not!" Ethel retorts. "I was just curious because you never showed us any pictures!"

"I've told you before that Morpheus is a little camera-shy." You don't actually know if that's the case or not; you just haven't yet figured out how to ask the anthropomorphic personification of dreams and nightmares if he wants to take a cute couple's selfie.

"Morpheus! Oh, how exotic." The little group titters, thrilled at having learned his name.

The man (-shaped being) of the hour has moved, placing a hand on your lower back so as to not frighten you when he suddenly stands next to you. You smile up at him and are greeted with the smallest of smiles in return while the sounds of your seniors oohing and aahing fade into mere background noise. Surroundings tend to become meaningless when you see Morpheus; all that matters then is you and he.

Morpheus is the one to remind you that you have an audience when he turns his attention upon said audience. He bows his head politely and says, "I greet you, ladies."

As you expected, they go absolutely nuts when they hear his voice.

"Oh my!" Ida blushes.

Ethel beams. "Aren't you a handsome one!"

"Why, if I were a few decades younger..." Shirley, who has absolutely no filter whatsoever, winks at Morpheus.

You sputter, your eyes wide and blood rushing to your cheeks. "Shirley!"

"What? I have eyes!"

While you're ready to hide your face in your hands and die (maybe you should see if Death has a cell phone), Morpheus simply hums in amusement. "You are very kind."

"And you are a sweetheart."

"Okay, that does it for me today," you interrupt. It's not a lie; you were literally saying your goodbyes and on your way out before Morpheus arrived! "I'll see you guys in a couple of weeks."

"You bring Morpheus around any time, alright?"

You can't get out of there fast enough, and Morpheus lets you practically drag him towards the parking lot. Once you're out in the fresh air (and away from any of the windows that your favorite gals could be spying from), you bury your head in Morpheus's shoulder and groan.

"I'm sorry. That was so embarrassing," you lament.

"Why? They were...sweet, if not a little overt in their affections."

You lift your head up to meet his eyes. "That's why it was embarrassing, my love."

"You are very clearly dear to them. They simply want to see you happy."

"I'm assuming you know that with your super special dream magic?"

"Daydreams and hopes are quite loud, starlight." He smirks because you know damn well just how loud some daydreams can be (specifically yours when you're thinking about Morpheus) before pressing his lips to your forehead.

"Well, you're certainly in their good graces now. They've been so nosy since they found out I'm seeing someone."

"So I lived up to their expectations, then?"

Now it's your turn to smirk. "Baby, you were beyond their wildest dreams."

#dream of the endless #dream of the endless x reader #morpheus #morpheus x reader #the sandman

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bladiegfs · 1 year

Text

but we're not like that

➵ brief scenarios of them pining for you but refusing to pursue you for their own reasons (ft. dan heng, jing yuan, blade, gepard)

➵ warning(s) applicable: none

➵ wc: 1.3k

➵ mild angst debut? hell yeah!!!

Dan Heng fell for you hard. But there was the danger of the shadow of his past lurking behind him, the walking danger who insists that Dan Heng must pay— this much, he knew well. And so, he made it a mission to try and kill the blooming romance between the two of you.

Oh, he wasn’t quite as dense as you thought him to be. He knew your true feelings, noticed all the little signs. He noted the way your eyes lingered on him for a beat longer, the way your hands would sometimes brush against his as you stand side-by-side, the way a soft smile is on your lips as you look at him.

Nothing progressed past that, however. Maybe something was holding you back, too. Friendly conversations remained friendly as you stay at the archives until the late hours, chatting about whatever topic you two fancied. And sometimes, there’d be a pause after shared laughter— you’d look at him with a certain expression, one that makes his heart squeeze in his chest.

But he’d break the atmosphere, clearing his throat or harping on about another topic. He’d try his absolute best at hiding his emotions, at making sure that none of his deep feelings showed obviously. But whenever you gave him that smile, spoke in that soft, teasing tone, when you laughed… for a moment, he allows himself to imagine the possibilities. He wonders, what will it be like to hold your hand? To be able to kiss you? To simply be with you?

But he snaps out of it quickly. There was no point in pondering on the ‘what if’s. After all… it’s better this way.

To be admired by Jing Yuan is to be admired from afar.

While the general may seem like the type of person to pursue who he wants without a second thought, but he wasn’t one to carelessly take chances. He’d closely watch how you act when you’re around him— do you seem happy? Do you appear to enjoy his company?

When it all hits him and he realizes that you do share his feelings, a certain air of tension lay between the two of you. Suddenly, those ‘friendly’ touches don’t seem so innocent anymore, and the little smile ever-present on your face reveals itself to only be ever-present within his presence. The time for those afternoon naps he yearned for had turned into a time for him to pen you letters or to look forward to your visit.

Little by little, the space between the two of your vanishes, and flickers of what seems to be romance spark. There’d be an occasional shared look filled with intent and emotions— then you both look away, pretending nothing happened.

A part of him found it amusing. To think that you’d shamelessly pat his head, run your hands through his hair, sometimes even chide him for his love of slacking, and yet you’d quickly look away when he truly looks at you. He sees through you; there is that certain light in your eyes whenever you’d look at him, he hears the pleased tone in your voice, sees the way you’d glance at his lips every now and then.

But there is time for the fun to end. To involve yourself with someone so heavily involved in a dangerous position– to someone within a rank wherein death is ‘fate’– was less than appealing for Jing Yuan to think of.

The general is called ‘preventive’ rather than ‘corrective.’ Don’t expect his approach towards you to be any different— his enemies are long dead, and his friends have been scattered in the winds. To connect with another person is to risk a repeat of that and… that’s not one he’s willing to take.

At first, Blade did not know what the twisting feeling in his stomach meant whenever he’d see you smiling, laughing, or… doing anything, really. He figured that maybe, what he was feeling was disgust toward you. How else would he explain that feeling of what seems to be unease settling in his stomach?

Since then, he’s made a conscious effort to avoid you. He’s already an elusive person as he is, so it shouldn’t prove too difficult. Yet somehow, he keeps on making his way back to you— a day that was supposed to be spent away from you ends with him eating dinner in a seat across from you. He’d sneak glances at you with a displeased expression, eyebrows furrowed in thought.

He truly could not stand the mystery of it. Why was it you? What issue does he take in your happiness that it makes his stomach turn? How come the slightest of your touches makes his chest ache?

After a while, he realizes that it was a silly thing that people called ‘love.’ The force that is said to be able to move mountains, to change worlds, to bring about war and ruin, peace and order.

Funny how he doesn’t feel any stronger— he feels the exact opposite when he’s around you. He feels weak. As though led on by the horns, he unwittingly follows every whim of yours. That bright expression of yours only works to make him bend to your will. Should you ask for the stars themselves, he may damn well reach for them and hand them over to you.

But there can only be so much that he can do before he realizes how this whole ordeal only gets in the way of his goals. There is only one purpose for this life of his. And as he breaks himself into fragments at the cost of attaining this goal, he believes that you deserve more than just his pieces.

Gepard knew it from the very moment he felt the telltale skipping of his heart and the redness rushing to his cheeks. He’s heard of it from songs, read it from books, and seen it in movies before.

You could say he’s well-acquainted with love. How could he not be, when everyone makes such a big fuss about it? There are tales of having to break up public fights started in the name of it— jilted lovers coming after their ‘replacements’, disgruntled and jealous lovers getting physical the moment another person flirts with their partner, and many others. Of course, it’s up to guards to break up such fights; as the captain, he hears of it by the end of the day, and all he could do is sigh.

But if he shall speak as a Landau noble, he could say that he expects love to come to him, too. After all, it is expected for him to continue the line. Many would joke that it wouldn’t be difficult for it to come to him, anyway— sooner or later, a special someone will fall head over heels for his earnest demeanor combined with his appealing looks.

In both cases, he sees love as something linked to duty— the duty to fulfill his oath to protect the people of Belobog, and the duty to keep the noble line alive. What he doesn’t know, however, is that this love that came over him is one that makes him forget about said duties, even if just for a moment.

He feels terrible yet happy about it. He’s found himself taking extra care of the flowers he’s keeping, hoping he could someday give you some of the best ones. He’s humming some love songs under his breath as he prepares for the day, as he does his routine check, and as he comes home from fighting the beings of the Fragmentum.

But reality crept in: even with all these feelings residing in his heart, he couldn’t pursue you. There was the glaring reality of the brutal life of being the captain of the Silvermane Guards— a horrible reality that he would never dare subject you to. There are endless threats to peace and battles that yield uncertain results.

He could not do that to you— he couldn’t subject you to those worries. He’d rather have you keep that smile on your face.

#maddie's corner!#honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #dan heng x reader #jing yuan x reader #blade x reader #gepard x reader #! ballad

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