#I am weak and I am broken and I must go | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mrdrwrites · 4 months

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Pairings: Oliver Quick X !fem reader

Summary: Oliver is upset because something happened at uni so seeks you for comfort. later in the night things get heated

CW: NSFW!! kissing, bad language, fluff that turns to smut, sub!Oliver dom!reader, handjob, blowjob, 69, pussy eating, praise, ma’am kink, orgasm denial

WC: 2k

warning: i am dyslexic so don't expect all words to be spelled correctly, also i don't autocapitalise my words

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

‘Oliver honey i’m home,’ i yell into the seemingly empty house, ‘Oliver?’

i make my way into the kitchen, setting down the shopping bags on the counter. i hear a sniffle from the living room and walk towards the noise.

‘Oliver baby, are you okay?’ i can’t see him but the shaking blob under the blankets on our sofa tell me he is under there.

i sit next to him and slowly move my hand to take the blanket off of him.

‘go away please y/n,’ his voice is low, broken, i don’t like it at all.

‘what’s wrong baby?’ i ask, hand still on the blanket.

he sniffles again and when he makes no effort to move i pull the blanket off of him completely. there he is, my Oliver, knees bent to his chest, his eyes red and puffy. It broke my heart to see him quivering and sniffling like that. My sweet, sweet boy. So small and broken yet still so beautiful. the whites of his Hiscobalt blue eyes had turned bloodshot, his lip quivering slightly.

‘what is wrong Oliver?’ i ask again, a few more tears escape his eyes.

‘it’s nothin’ i’m bein’ silly,’ his accent is particularly thick when he begins to talk, little voice broken.

‘Oliver, it’s okay,’ i assure him, cupping his face in my hands, ‘you can tell me.’

‘at uni,’ his voice breaks, ‘i was tryin’ to get to class an’ someone tripped me. im okay but my glasses broke.’

‘awh, baby,’ my hand moves to his hair, ‘it’s okay, we can get you some new ones.’

he finally looks at me. his face is tear stained and it breaks my heart a little.

‘really?’ he wipes his nose on the back of his sleeve, ‘you think so?’ my heart breaks a little at the sight of the man in front of me.

‘of course, we can book an appointment at the opticians tomorrow, how’s that sound?’ he gives me a weak smile, eyes still glassy.

‘okay,’ he leans forward and gives me a big hug, ‘thank you y/n,’ he speaks into my hair.

he pulls back and i give him a kiss on the lips.

‘i feel so silly,’ he wipes his eyes free of tears and chuckles to himself a little.

‘don’t. it’s okay to cry in front of me, you know this,’ i assure him.

‘thank you y/n,’ he mumbles, ‘for everything.’

‘don’t thank me silly,’ i get up, and go into the kitchen.

i unpack all the shopping and find Oliver asleep on the sofa, a movie playing on the tv.

i walk over to him and shake his shoulder a little, the time that is displayed on the living room clock reads 9:03pm, ‘Oliver baby, wake up.’

he opens his eyes a little and squints a little, ‘im awake.’

‘you coming to bed?’ i ask.

‘mhm, you coming too?’ he replies, eyes shining in the light.

‘of course,’ i smile down at him.

i go to our shared bedroom and get in bed, Oliver comes in a moment later. he undresses and slides into bed beside me and pulls me into him so he is spooning me.

‘goodnight my love,’ he whispers into my neck.

‘goodnight,’ i sigh contently.

an hour or two must pass before i’m awoken, Oliver is still asleep, his short breaths coming out rigid against my neck. his hips are rutting against the curve of my ass, his dick hard. he’s having a wet dream. little whines are coming from his parted lips. i open my legs a little, moving so his dick is between my thighs. i close them slowly, clenching slightly. he’s still sleeping when his pace picks up, pulling me closer to his chest. he’s fucking my thighs at a good pace, whimpering into my neck, still sleeping. i move my hand down to where the head of his cock pokes out from between my thighs and lay it flat. every thrust forward his tip is pushed against my hand. he gets louder at this and speeds up. humping my thighs like a deprived animal. i smirk to myself. i can tell when he gets close by the urgency of his thrusts. before he can cum however, i move my hand and open my legs. with nothing to rut against he lets out a huff of air. i wonder what he is dreaming about.

‘Oliver,’ i drag my hand up his arm that is tight around my waist, ‘Oliver baby wake up,’ i push my ass against him.

he jolts awake, pulling away from me ever so slightly.

‘Oliver?’ i question into the darkness.

‘mhm,’ he responds, tiredness creeping into his voice.

‘you horny?’ i know he gets shy when i’m vulgar.

‘shh,’ he scolds, knew it.

‘want me to take care of you baby,’ the hand on his arm reaches between my legs to stroke his dick.

he winces, ‘please.’

my hand comes off of his dick and turns on the lamp at the side of our bed. i sit up and turn to look at Oliver, his eyes are tired but his dick is rigid and swollen with need.

‘lay on your back for me,’ i pull the blanket off the both of us.

he obeys instantly and lays his head back on the pillows.

‘good boy,’ my hand travels down his chest towards his thighs.

when i get close to his erection he bucks his hips up, so needy.

i tut, ‘that how much you need me?’ i give his right thigh a light slap.

his eyes are now clouded with something other than tiredness.

‘yeah, just please,’ he whines, bucking his hips up again, ‘touch me.’

‘beg,’ i state simply, sitting back, legs crossed.

his eyes meet mine, then rake down my body. they falter slightly at the sight of my hard nipples but continue down til he just stares at my increasingly soaking pussy.

‘Oliver,’ i warn, ‘my eyes are up here.’

his eyes shoot to my own, cock throbbing a little.

‘beg.’ i say once again, reaching for his dick but stopping just before i touch him.

‘please y/n, please touch me. fuck, i need you so bad. make me feel good. i promise ill be a good boy. just touch me,’ he shudders when my palm comes in contact with his leaking tip.

‘such a good boy, Oliver,’ i praise, finally wrapping my hand around his cock.

he closes his eyes, whines and whimpers leaving him when i begin stroking him at a slow pace, he needs more, i know this. i dont give him it though, i want him to be a writhing mess by the time im finished with him. he moves his hips up when i get to the head of his dick on the fifth stroke. when he does so i take my hand away.

his eyes shoot open, ‘why did you stop?’ his cock pulses once again.

‘you get what i give you. don’t take more. do you understand?’ i look expectantly at him.

he nods, ‘i understand.’

‘so if you understand that why do you still move your hips when i’m touching you. am i not good enough? would you rather go back to sleep with an aching cock? huh? would you rather have me pressed against you all night, so close to slipping into my pussy, but knowing you can’t?’ i’m teasing him.

‘no ma’am, you’re more than enough. i just need you so bad. please touch me again,’ a streak of precum makes its way down his dick, pooling at his pelvic area.

i take a finger and follow the trail of precum up to his tip. he moans, loud, and throws his head back.

i wrap my hand around his aching erection once more and begin stroking him a little faster than i was before. i pick up my pace when tears fall from his eyes but stop when i can feel him tighten under me, knowing he is about to cum.

i bring my hand completely away and wait for him to recover before speaking, ‘we’re going to play the fast and slow game, okay baby? you think you can do that for me?’

he nods, ‘yes y/n, i can do it.’

‘good boy,’ i praise, ‘let’s get started then, start slow.’

his hand slowly begins pumping his cock, i watch him making sure his pace doesn’t slow down nor quicken.

after a few moments i speak up, ‘a little faster baby,’ he obeys.

the head of his cock had turned an angry red shade now, needing release.

‘go as fast as you can sweetheart,’ his hand moves fast, almost inhumanely so.

i see his orgasm approaching, ‘stop,’ i tease, his hand stops and moves away from his cock.

‘you’re doing so well baby. you’re listening so good,’ he’s panting and his cock leaks some more with each praise.

he gets calmed down again, ‘start fast baby,’ he does so.

his strokes are messy, he needs release and he needs it soon.

‘you think you can slow down a little for me baby, and only work on the bottom half of your dick?’ i ask, a plan formulated in my head.

he nods breathlessly, moving his hand down so he is going at a medium pace on the base of his cock. i lean over and take the top of him in my mouth.

he hisses, ‘fuck y/n. i’m going to cum.’

i pull my mouth away and slap his hand from his cock.

‘i’m going to suck your cock, you’re going to eat my pussy. is that understood?’ i plant my dripping pussy right over his face.

‘yes ma’am,’ he replies obediently and i lower myself onto him.

he licks and sucks on my clit like a starved man, i grind myself into his face and lean forward, taking his strained dick in my mouth. i take him into my mouth and hum around him, he thrusts his cock deep into my throat but i don’t scold him. with the way he is devouring my pussy i don’t want to stop him. he moans against my clit, hands on my hips, digging into them. he’s holding me down, almost as if he didn’t id pull away. i’m still working on his cock when i cum on his tongue, a moan escapes my lips, sending vibrations down his cock. he’s still sucking and licking on my pussy, sending me into overdrive. i take him deep in my mouth one more time before his nails dig into my hips and he jerks forward one more time, emptying himself into my mouth. i swallow everything and give him a few more sucks before pulling away from his dick with a pop.

‘you did so good baby,’ i say, trying to lift up from his mouth, his hands are still gripped into my hips and his mouth is still working on my pussy.

‘Oliver, let go or i’ll make you cum another three times,’ i warn.

he lets out a groan and lets me get off of his face. it’s all glossy in the dim light of the lamp and it makes me chuckle.

‘you look pretty,’ he comments, head tilting to the side.

‘you look slimy,’ i crinkle my nose.

he laughs but pulls me down into him, kissing me.

i can taste myself on him and i’d be surprised if he couldn’t taste himself. regardless of whether he could or not he continued kissing me like his life depended on it. only pulling away when he needed to breathe.

‘thank you for taking care of my y/n,’ he gives me another short kiss before getting up to wash his face in our bathroom.

i follow him a moment later to brush my teeth. we don’t speak til we are back in bed, facing each other.

‘you truly are my favourite thing in this entire world,’ he moves a strand of hair out of my face, ‘i love you so much.’

‘i love you too,’ i move closer and give him a long kiss, ‘goodnight baby.’

i turn around and turn the lamp off, Oliver moves closer to me and we fall asleep spooning once again. this time not waking up til morning.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

THANK YOU @lovandr FOR HELPING ME WRITE THE FIRST SECTION AND ALSO BEING THE PERSON WHO READS ALL MY STUFF BEFORE I POST. I LOVE YOU 😚😚

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clockwayswrites · 6 months

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A Broken Sort of Normal, Part 17

WC:1471 Masterpost CW: must distress continues

“Danny!”

Danny had just—

Somehow he had—

Danny is falling.

Wally makes it in time to catch him. He goes from blocks away to having Danny in his arms in an instant. Gently, so gently, he holds Danny and lowers them to the ground, next to the heart that Danny had ripped out of the leader’s chest.

“Wally,” Danny rasps. His voice is weaker than Wally has ever heard it. It’s like some twisted imitation of how Danny sounds when he wakes up in the morning, voice rough with the remnants of sleep. Danny is even smiling the same, soft smile.

“Medic!” Wally screams. Hands shaking, he clutches at Danny’s chest. He can feel Danny’s breath stuttering under his trembling fingers. “I need a medic!”

Danny’s fingers wrap weakly around Wally’s. They feel so cold.

Wally stuffs the sob back into his throat. “Thought I told you to stay safe.”

He did, too. Before they split up at the Watchtower to Zeta down to their respective locations, Wally had pulled Danny to the side and rested their foreheads together. He had told Danny this was a big one and that he needed Danny to stay safe before kissing him goodbye.

“Sorry,” Danny murmurs. His eyes are glassy now.

Wally doesn’t think Danny even sees him anymore.

This isn’t how it’s supposed to go. They’re supposed to get married. Buy one of those row houses Danny is always looking at. Have mornings and nights and years together. They’re supposed to have tomorrow.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay, babe,” Wally says, sniffling, trying desperately to smile for Danny. “I love you no matter what.”

“Love you too. Had to…”

Wally hushes him, softly, gently. He doesn’t want Danny to spend his last breaths on excuses. Wally leans down and presses their lips together.

Danny’s lips are so cold.

“I love you so much.”

Foreheads resting together, Wally twists his grip so that he can feel Danny’s pulse. The heartbeats are unsteady under his fingers. Unconsciously, Wally starts counting them as his mouth runs without his permission or thought, just affirmation after affirmation about how much he loves Danny. He doesn’t want Danny to die without feeling loved.

He doesn’t—

There’s a feeling, suddenly, like when a plane pressurizes or an elevator drops and both of their breaths stutter. Then it pops.

The world is lit in a green glow.

Danny arches with a gasp.

Wally clutches Danny protectively to his chest and looks up.

A glowing, slowly twisting orb of green floats above them. A wisp trails from Danny’s chest up to the mass. Above it, hands splayed on either side of the ball, is floating a woman with green skin, black hair, and red eyes that look at Danny with a hungry sort of malice that makes Wally want to lunge at her.

And then she starts laughing. The sound blends with the melodic noise as the coins on her outfit shake with her laughter. “Oh, Phantom. I was starting to think that you would actually manage.”

She reaches her hand over the orb, fingers sinking into it to pull herself forward. Danny jerks in Wally’s arms.

“Seven years. You made me wait seven years. I didn’t think you had it in you, Phantom. I was sure when you made that wish, that foolish, stupid, wonderful wish that you’d trip up within a week. But you didn’t! You made me wait seven years!” The ground shakes with her scream. She clears her throat and smooths down her outfit, making sure that the skirt lay right over her genie-like tail. “But it doesn’t matter. You did it now and all the others can stop hounding me for their slice of your power for helping with this plan. And of all things you did it for love. You always were weak, Phantom.”

“Who are you?” Wally snarls, trying to tuck Danny closer to him, as if it is possible to do so.

The woman looks down at Wally, arching a brow before her purple lips form into a razor sharp smirk. “I am Desiree and I should thank you. How does it feel, to know that you killed your lover?”

Wally’s heart skips a beat.

“That he’s dying in your arms because he couldn’t stand to lose you? That he's going to make you live with that pain instead? Don’t you wish that it could be different?”

Wally does. He doesn’t want to lose Danny. He doesn’t want the world to lose Danny. He wishes—

The air compresses again. Another pop. A flash of yellow light.

“Thought we were fighting aliens, not ghosts and djinn?” a tired British voice asks.

Wally twists around to see a battered, bloodied, and bruised Constantine and Zatanna standing on the edge of the crater.

“Help him!” screams Wally. His voice cracks around the plea.

The Dark team takes in the scene, eyes darting from Danny to the orb to the— to Desiree. John’s face darkens quickly. “Well that has to be fucking dealt with.”

“Oh, you’ll deal with me?” scoffs Desiree. “Do you know who I am? Do you know what I have?”

Desiree pulls herself across the orb again, sinking her clawed fingers into it. Danny twitches in Wally’s arms with each stab. The green seeps up from it like punctured air and wraps itself around Desiree’s neck.

“No matter, I can absorb some of his power now to deal with you rats!” Desiree screams. She plunges her arms into the orb. The green flashes blindingly bright. The wisps grow. The tendrils tighten.

Danny lets out a weak breath of air, like it was the last in his lungs.

“Constantine!” Wally begs.

The green light ripples and pulses. Wally looks up, trying to shield Danny from it. It’s like Desiree is drinking it in.

Constantine and Zatanna are talking. Wally can’t hear what they’re saying. He can’t hear Desiree laughing even though he knows she is. He can’t hear the chant Zatanna calls out. All Wally can hear is the fragile, rattling breaths from Danny.

When the breaths stop, it’s like Wally’s world goes silent.

And then it explodes in green.

Wally covers Danny’s body with his own, holding tight as the light and wind rips past them. When it settles, Wally pulls back. The djinn is gone.

Danny is silent.

“John, he’s not breathing!” Wally shouts.

“Zap him!” John shouts back. He’s scrambling down the edge of the crater, rushing into the cloud of green that’s settled in it. Wally loses sight of him. “Zap him!”

Wally’s never done that.

He’s never tried to call on the electricity outside of a battle. He’s only just gotten a handle on moderating its power. He can’t—

But Danny is dead in his arms. Breaths silent. Heart silent. Dead.

Wally’s hands tremble as he rests them over Danny’s chest and pushes the power that thrums under his skin, through his fingertips, and into Danny.

The word explodes in green again— like a lit match in a room full of gas.

Wally’s flung backwards, away from Danny, hitting something, someone, and they tumble together. Then John is helping Wally up. They rush through the scattered remnants of the green fog. Wally falls to his knees next to Danny.

Please please please—

And Danny breathes.

Sound comes back to Wally’s world.

There’s an echo in Danny’s ears. The ringing of it feels like it’s burrowing into his brain, like it’s vibrating through his very bones, like his heart is stuttering and jumping to try and match the awful sound. It makes Danny groan in pain.

Someone is talking to him. He can hear the words past the hum of the ringing but can’t understand them. He whines, arching up. His fingertips scramble at some soft material. Suddenly, there’s a weight pressing down on his shoulder.

“—still. You’re safe, but you’re hurt.”

“Wally,” Danny gasps. He tries to speak but he’s not sure most of the words make it past his lips. “Did Wally make a wish with Desiree? Please, no!”

The press of soft lips against his temple Danny would recognize anywhere. That’s Wally. Wally was still alive.

“It’s okay Danny. Desiree is gone. Constantine and Zatanna showed up. Apparently all the…” Wally sounds so wrecked that it makes Danny whine again. There’s another brush of those lips. “All the death magic being used alerted them. When she started to absorb the, um, your? Absorb the power, Constantine and Zatanna basically forced it into her all at once. It overwhelmed her and she, well, exploded.”

That sounds good. It is good she’s gone. Danny thinks he should be concerned about more, more that he needs to know, but Wally is alive. Somehow he is alive. The rest he can deal with later.

Danny makes a soft noise and slips back into the black.

---

AN: What, you didn't think I was actually going to kill Danny, did you? ^_~

One chapter (or two parts) left! Danny's got some explaining to do! And Wally has some important things to say too.

I no longer tag, but you can subscribe to the master post here.

#dp x dc #quick death #quick death ship #Danny/Wally #abson

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mcflymemes · 3 months

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PROMPTS FROM A COURT OF WINGS AND RUIN * assorted lines from the novel by sarah j. maas, adjust as necessary

only you can decide what breaks you. only you.

tonight, i want you to wear that crown to bed. only the crown.

i believe everything happens for a reason.

this could be a very bad idea.

we can make whatever rules we want.

leave a note... or tell me next time.

you have every right to question me.

i don't see you spouting poetry.

i missed you. every second. every breath.

you're my equal. and as much as that means we have each other's backs in public, it also means we grant each other the gift of honesty... of truth.

is there a purpose to your visit, or may i return to my book?

kindness can thrive even amongst cruelty.

it's a rare person to face who they are and not run from it... not be broken by it.

it's fine if you drink directly from it.

i wish i had been there to stop it. i should have been there to stop it.

my goal was bigger than revenge.

i belong to no one, but my heart belongs to you.

i hadn't realized i was a villain in your narrative.

there are many types of strength beyond the ability to wield a blade and end lives.

you are your own person, you make your own choices.

i'd like a word.

you are a better friend to me than i ever was to you.

i want to share this bed with you. i want you to hold me.

remember that you are a wolf, and you cannot be caged.

we're all a little broken in our own ways... in places no one might see.

i would have waited five hundred more years for you. a thousand years.

you are a warrior, and warriors know when to pick their fights.

they took what is ours. and we do not allow these crimes to go unpunished.

i believe that everything happened exactly the way it had to... so i could find you.

it is the family you make, not the one you are born into, that matters.

ready to be wicked?

one life may change the world.

i missed you, too.

this is war. we don't have the luxury of good ideas - only picking between the bad ones.

it is a new world, and we must decide how we are to end this old one and begin it anew.

i see all of you. and there is not one part that i do not love with everything i am.

it'll be dangerous.

i have no regrets in my life, but this.

i will find you in the next world, the next life.

what we think to be our greatest weakness can sometimes be our biggest strength.

i won't tell anyone unless you say so.

when you erupt, make sure it is felt across worlds.

you bow to no one.

leave this world a better place than how you found it.

you do not fear. you do not falter. you do not yield.

will you come with me on this adventure, and all the rest?

do not get distracted. do not linger.

it's already ended badly.

for someone who was just dead, you seem remarkably relaxed.

they're terribly cruel to me.

here's to family reunions.

i will fight with everything i have, too.

what time are we back in the training ring tomorrow?

daylight is a precious resource.

#mcflymemes #dramatic prompts #a court of wings and ruin #rp prompt #rp meme #rp memes #roleplay memes #roleplay prompt #rp starters #ask meme #ask memes #roleplay meme #roleplay inbox prompts #rp inbox meme #inbox prompt #inbox meme #sentence starter prompt #sentence starter #sentence starters

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bucca2 · 8 months

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Shrike pt. 1 - words hung above but never would form

definition. male shrikes are known for their habit of catching insects and small vertebrates and impaling them on thorns

König x high school sweetheart reader

2nd person, gender neutral reader for now but reader is afab and referred to as a girl, reader is Austrian/has lived in Austria and speaks German for most of the story, romance, pining, friends to lovers, reader's nickname is Thorn, König's first name is Alexander

4.8k words

tw: bullying, brief mention of cheating and domestic abuse (not explicit, mentions of violence, and not done by König), mention of terrorism, suicidal thoughts

[NEXT]

based on this post by @ceilidho, who gave me permission to write this! many thanks <3

this post is dedicated to @papaver-decervicatus, who I am so proud of for finishing chapter 4 of her fic cat/mouse/den (which I highly recommend) and eating NO glass in the process. her headcanons for König have had a huge influence on me, and while there are some differences between julius and alexander, I absolutely must thank Caedis for her wonderful portrayal of König.

and of course, to @danibee33, for fueling my König brainrot. without you, I probably would not have returned to writing <33

disclaimer, I am not Austrian, I do not speak German, so if there's anything that needs correcting, please do reach out!

You admit, you’ve always had an affinity for protecting the weak.

When you were twelve, a bird slammed headlong into your bedroom window. The poor thing had avoided snapping its own neck but was certainly in no condition to fly. You’d bolted out of your childhood home to check on it, but by the time you arrived, a huge grey tomcat was prowling, sitting back on his haunches and ready to pounce. You generally liked cats, but this one was a mean old stray, and you’d always been frightened to go near him.

Without hesitation, you had shoved the cat aside, spitting and yowling, and taken the little bird into your hands.

It took a few days to nurse back to health, and you still remember the day you released it back into nature. It was worth the long scratch down your arm, pride swelling in your heart as it spread its wings and flew into a vivid blue sky. You remember it even now: a charming little gray bird, a streak of black coloring over its eyes. A shrike, your mother had identified it as.

People are no different than animals, sometimes. People can be cornered, battered, and bruised as well. You recognize the broken hunch of the bird you rescued in the boy sitting by himself at lunch time. His shoulders curl inwards with a desperate need to go unnoticed. You’ve seen him around: he’s not in any of your classes, but your classes always seem to end up in the same hallways, so you pass each other all the time.

He jumps a little as you slide into the seat next to him, shrinking away from you in a way that breaks your heart. “Hey.”

No response. You offer your name, but he seems reluctant to divulge his own.

“Is it okay if I sit here?”

He shrugs.

“Thanks. I don’t know anybody at this school, so it’s nice to have a friend.”

“…friend?” He has a nice voice, you think. Timid, but almost sweet.

“Well, if you’ll let me call you one.”

“…”

And so begins your friendship with König.

I was housed by your warmth Thus transformed By your grounded and giving And darkening scorn

You didn’t call him that in high school, of course. You wouldn’t know that name until much, much later. It takes a while to coax him out of his shell, cajoling him that you can’t call him “green-eyed boy” forever, to get his name.

“Alexander is a very good name,” you assure him, and he seems pleased. He’s still hesitant to speak to you at all, but that’s just fine by you. You’ve got plenty to talk about, anyway.

“You know, I read this book about Alexander the Great. There’s this crazy story about one of his battles at a city called Tyre. He was laying siege to it after a misunderstanding with their king…” you chatter on, unaware of the intense stare from the boy sitting next to you.

“…ordinarily, sieging an island is pretty difficult, but you won’t believe what he did,” you rattle on. “He—”

“He built his own bridge,” Alexander says, so quietly you almost don’t hear him at first. You look at him in surprise.

“Yes! You know this story already?”

“I read a lot about him.”

“Then why did you let me ramble on about it if you knew about it already?” You’re a little embarrassed, having felt proud of yourself for knowing niche facts about historical figures.

“I like listening to you talk.”

That shuts you up for a moment. Only for a moment though, before you start to laugh.

“What?” he asks, an edge creeping into his voice.

“Nothing! It’s just—usually people tell me the opposite,” you say. “People say I talk too much.”

“I don’t mind.” His eyes dart to your face before looking away again.

“That’s good to hear. But I hope you know this means you’re never getting rid of me now,” you tease, nudging him gently.

He doesn’t respond, but for a second, you could have sworn that a corner of his mouth had turned up into a smile.

Learning more about him is like trying to draw blood from a stone, but you do your best. He mentions sharing a room with a cousin. His oma makes the best comfort food. Sometimes his mother takes him into town to buy candy, but he has to hide it or his cousin will steal it. Not that he cares that much—he doesn’t have much of a sweet tooth, but his family doesn’t come from means, so it means a lot to him whenever his mother spares a few pennies to buy him a frivolity.

It's what he doesn’t say that tells you the most about him. The way he fidgets with his clothes when he’s nervous. The brief panic that shoots through him whenever you call his name before he relaxes when he realizes it’s just you. The way he shies away from people in the hallways, just to avoid any contact whatsoever.

The fact that he never talks about his father.

The way he curls into himself when he’s being bullied.

“You should be apologizing to me for being in my way right about now, freak,” Andreas taunts him. He’s knocked Alexander’s books to the ground, like some sort of cartoon caricature of a bully, and you’re fed up.

“Hey!” Without missing a beat, you slide yourself between Alexander and Andreas. You’ve recently hit a bit of a growth spurt, so you note with a bit of smugness that you’re at least an inch or two taller than Andreas. You’re also quite a bit taller than Alexander, you realize. The two of you are usually sitting when you talk, so you’ve never really noticed.

“Leave him alone!” You stand your ground even as Andreas fixes you with a withering glare.

“Ah, so you’re gonna let your big strong girlfriend fight your fights now, is that it?” Andreas sneers. Alexander stiffens behind you, and you decide right then and there that you’ve had enough of this nonsense.

“You’re the last person who should be bringing up girlfriends, Andreas,” you say, staring him down with a look that you hope is sufficiently intimidating. “Everybody knows Yulia broke up with you because you can’t get it up.” You don’t know Yulia. You don’t give enough of a shit about Andreas to follow the gossip about him. But by the way his cheeks get ruddy, you know you’ve struck a nerve. The handful of spectators your little confrontation has attracted snicker.

“You little bitch,” he snarls. You hear the gasp of the students surrounding you before you feel it. You put a hand to your rapidly reddening cheek.

The little twerp had slapped you.

“That’s what you get for getting in my way,” he says, with a smug little look that you want to wipe off his face.

You’re not a violent person. And honestly, you could have been expelled for what happens next. But you cast a quick glimpse behind you at Alexander on the ground, and something about the look in his eyes reminds you of that bird you rescued, and a quick and hot anger rises in you.

You punch Andreas.

With no wind-up, no warning, you break his nose, and he drops like a rock, howling and clutching at the blood pouring from his nostrils. A sick little giggle comes out of you as you watch, drowned out by the uproar of your little audience.

“What on earth is going on here?!” You hear a teacher roar, and the crowd quickly begins to scatter. Without hesitation, you pull Alexander up and escape before you can be subjected to the consequences of your actions.

“Boy, am I glad he didn’t put up more of a fight,” you say gleefully, high on adrenaline. “That could have gotten quite ugly.”

“I didn’t know you had that in you,” Alexander says when the two of you have gotten far away enough. The way he looks at you now is a little different—almost reverent.

“I didn’t know either!” you say. “I’ve never done that before!”

“Who knew such a pretty rose had such sharp thorns?” he mumbles to himself. Your eyes zip to him, and even he looks surprised at the words coming out of his mouth.

“A pretty rose?” you tease, nudging him on the arm. He flushes pink and turns away, but there’s a bit of a lopsided half-smile on his lips.

You’re not sure why, but the sight of it makes your skin tingle.

The first few years of high school are relatively uneventful outside of skirmishes with Alexander’s various tormentors. Your biggest regret is that you can’t always be there for him—sometimes you have to spend your free periods catching up on readings or speaking with teachers. But you’re always there for him afterwards, poison in your voice as you hatch plans to make his bullies’ lives miserable. The plans never go anywhere, but thinking about retribution always seems to make him perk up a little. And really, that’s all that matters to you.

It's silly, how long it took you to realize how much of a fixture he was in your life. There’s a street corner a few blocks from the school you always meet him at so the two of you can walk the rest of the way together. The few times you share classes, you’re always sitting together, exchanging notes and quietly judging your classmates together. And you always, always sit with him during lunch. Even when you start making other friends who surely would welcome you at their tables, you always return to the quiet green-eyed boy in the corner.

You tell yourself it’s because he’s lonely, and he needs the company. You tell yourself the rumors about the two of you are silly, the result of bored hormonal teenagers who can’t fathom being a genuine friend to someone of the opposite sex. You tell yourself it means nothing that your face feels warm whenever he smiles at you.

You never get the chance to figure out if it does mean anything. He gives you the bad news on the last day of classes before summer break.

“I…I see,” you say, trying to swallow past the lump in your throat. For once, you’re at a loss of what to say. His fingers twist around each other in his lap, the way they only do when he’s really anxious.

“Well, a fresh start is good, right?” You offer him a smile, but your heart’s not in it. Maybe you haven’t spent as much time with him as you used to back in first year—you’ve started to take more advanced classes, and you’ve been so swamped with homework and projects that sometimes hanging out with Alexander is put on the back burner. But you’d always taken comfort in knowing that he would always be there at mealtime. A steady presence in your life, as everything around you seems to be speeding towards a future you’re not quite ready for yet.

Now he’s leaving. You’d like to think your concern is for him—what’s to say his new school won’t also be rife with harassment? Will he be able to make new friends? Or will he be all alone at the lunch table again? But really, who are you trying to fool? The sudden heaviness in your chest is selfish. What are you going to do without him?

The roaring in your head stills as you feel his hand cover yours. You stare at it dumbly, unable to lift your head and look him in the eyes. Your gut feels like it’s flipping and twisting all over itself.

You lift your eyes to his. For one breathless, indescribable moment, you think he’s going to kiss you. You’re sure he’s going to kiss you. You lean closer to him, and you can feel his breath on your lips.

Your eyes slide shut.

A shout startles your eyes back open, and he jolts away from you. It’s your mother, calling that she’s here to pick you up. You let out a frustrated noise as you call back to her that you’re coming before turning back to him.

The moment is long gone, and your heart twinges with regret as he avoids meeting your gaze. “You’ll write to me, won’t you?” you say softly. “And we can still see each other?”

“Of course I will, rosethorn,” he says, with that shy little smile you love so much.

You don’t see him for another ten years.

I couldn't utter my love when it counted I couldn't whisper when you needed it shouted Ah, but I'm singing like a bird 'bout it now

It’s ironic, really. Saving birds. Saving boys. But the one person you can’t save is yourself.

Your life post-König is like the drop on a roller coaster, but with none of the thrill. High school flies by in a flurry of deadlines and mental breakdowns. It’s worth it when you get into a good university—at least, you thought so. In reality, there’s no work in Austria for someone with your degree. Your parents are older, well on their way towards retirement, so you find yourself unwilling to burden them. You’re lost, stuck, and so very alone.

And then you meet him.

Tall, handsome, a little older, with a blossoming career. In hindsight, how much of a perfect package he presented himself as was the earliest red flag. But when you’re young and behind on rent, anything better than that feels like a miracle.

You know better, really. You knew it the whole time. Getting married after knowing each other for 2 months isn’t as bad as it could be, but it’s still too quick for your comfort. But the eviction notice was on your door, and he was a perfect gentleman. What could go wrong, right?

Everything. He at least has the decency to keep up the façade for another month, but that’s the only credit you’ll ever give the man you’ve shackled yourself to. It becomes increasingly obvious that he only married you to have a live-in maid while he philanders around as he pleases. You try, oh god do you try, for five long, fruitless years. God, it’s so silly when you think about it. You liked him so much, it took you so long to realize he had never liked you in the first place. He’d scooped up the first desperate college grad he’d found, and thinking about it makes you want to hide from everyone you know.

Which you do: hiding from what few friends you do have, hiding from your parents, hiding from the part of your brain that screams that you’re wasting the best years of your life cleaning up after a grown man who won’t even touch you, much less fuck you. Your 20s are for drinking, one-night stands, and figuring out what the fuck the rest of your life is going to look like. There is plenty of drinking, but the rest of it, not so much.

You’re going to divorce him, you tell yourself in year six. Once you get a job, you’re out. But you’re no fresh grad anymore, and the 6-year gap in your resume isn’t helping matters. You spot a glimpse of light at the end of the tunnel when he tells you you’re moving: his company is offering him a higher paid position, and it’s in a bustling downtown area. Plenty of opportunity for you, right?

That’s when he starts hitting you.

You’re away from your parents, your friends, your home. You took English classes, but that won’t exactly help you in this equally European foreign country whose language you don’t speak. Now that you’re approaching your 30s, your husband seems to be rapidly realizing that his youth is also disappearing. His new job is more stressful, and most days he has no outlet for it other than taking it out on you.

Now you long for the days when he didn’t come home until you’d already fallen asleep.

And then the terror attacks begin, and your once-bustling city shuts down. More isolation. Even less hope. You stay at home all day, torn between hoping someone will get rid of your husband for you and the abject terror of being left all alone in a foreign country torn apart by violent partisans.

That’s when the despair really sets in: you’ve wasted over a decade in this awful, dead-end relationship. Sure, you’ve got a roof over your head and food in your stomach: you should feel grateful. But you don’t.

You start hoping the attacks will take you out instead.

I fled to the city with so much discounted Ah, but I'm flying like a bird to you now Back to the hedgerows where bodies are mounted

“There are mercenaries in town.”

You look up from your breakfast, lost in thought thinking about all the errands you have to run today. “Yeah?”

“About time we stopped relying on our corrupt fucking military,” he grumbles. “Maybe they’ll end this goddamn conflict once and for all.”

You don’t have much to say about that. What does it matter to you, anyway? The only conflict that matters to you lives at home, and you stopped trying to fight it a long time ago.

“The curfew’s a pain in the ass, though. You behave yourself, you hear me?” His sharp glare reminds you that he’s not saying this out of a concern for your safety: if you make trouble for him, you’ll pay for it later. You nod mutely.

Your morning goes by relatively uneventfully. You do the dishes, stare at the wall, sigh, stare at the wall some more. As much of a prison as this apartment is, you like it decently well when he’s not in it. Going outside and seeing the ravages of war all around you is anxiety-inducing. But you can’t put off buying groceries anymore.

The arrival of the mercenaries makes itself immediately apparent. The streets are somehow even emptier, and what people there are on the streets move quickly and cast suspicious glances at everyone else.

You were hoping not to interact with anybody, but your hopes are dashed when you see a checkpoint ahead, manned by soldiers in unfamiliar uniforms. Although most of them are wearing different gear, they still look more orderly and well-kept than the country’s own military. Murder must pay well.

You look around nervously, but there’s no alternate route here, and nobody local going through with you. You strongly consider going home, but you’d just have to do this all over again tomorrow.

You steel yourself with a deep breath.

“Identification?”

You show the mercenary your ID with trembling fingers, gripping your bag tightly and praying he doesn’t find your nervousness suspicious.

“Where are you headed?”

“Just—just down the street,” you say, wincing at your heavy German accent. Years upon years of living here and you still sound like a foreigner. “Getting food.” You’re so anxious you forget the word for “groceries” for a moment. You only know enough of the local language to get by, and you’re sure you must sound like a kindergartener.

The soldier raises an eyebrow at you. “You are German?”

“I…Austrian,” you answer hesitantly. Oh God, you hope there’s no issue with that. You’re not so much afraid of being detained as you are of getting home too late to make dinner.

“Interesting.” The soldier hands back your ID. “Our commander is Austrian, as well.”

You perk up a little bit at that. You’ve met a handful of German-speakers here, but not a single one of your countrymen.

Well. Aside from the one who came here with you.

“He should actually be arriving here any moment now. Big guy in a hood. You can’t miss him. They call him König.” As if on cue, a military grade vehicle pulls up to the checkpoint, military personnel stepping out. And then…

Your blood runs cold.

Nothing, nothing could have prepared you for the sight of the beast that steps out of the car. Even from a short distance, you can tell he’s a colossal size. Two metres tall, easily, wearing a dark hood that reminds you of a medieval executioner. And as if that weren’t intimidating enough, two red trails, like bloody tears, are bleached under his eyes. His eyes, which must have some sort of black paint around them, giving him the impression of being two eyes staring out at you from the pitch blackness of the hood.

Two piercing green eyes.

Trained directly on your face.

Staring in disbelief.

“I…need to return home. I’ve forgotten something.” All worries about appearing suspicious fly out the window as the enormous man in the hood hesitates for a moment before making his way towards you with alarming speed.

You all but fly back down the street, making a beeline for your building. Just a few moments ago, you were excited to meet the man. Now, the image of his eyes staring into yours fills you with a fear you can’t describe.

The next day you take a long detour to avoid the checkpoint. It’ll take you twice as long to get home this time, but it’s worth it. You can’t put the shopping off another day: the brand-new bruise on your arm throbs as a reminder. And you certainly don’t want to run into the hooded soldier again.

You get your shopping done without much fanfare. The old lady cashier, who usually looks at you from over her glasses with the stern look you’ve seen a lot of people around here level at foreigners, even pressed a piece of candy from behind the register into your hand. You’re pretty sure it’s just because she wanted to get rid of it, but it does wonders for your mood.

You’re busy plotting when to enjoy your little treat when you turn a corner and freeze.

He’s here. He’s there, standing in an alleyway near your building. Somehow even larger than you remember him yesterday, still wearing that awful hood.

Does he know where you live? You curse yourself for running straight home yesterday. He must have seen the direction you went in—or did he follow you? You attempt to quietly retreat and take another route home, but your shoe scuffs a paving stone. And like a hawk spotting its prey, his head darts towards you.

You book it.

“Wait!” calls a deep voice. Tears spring to your eyes as you hear heavy footsteps pursuing you. What have you done to deserve this? You’re no criminal. Your only crime is being a naïve dumbass in your twenties.

Your arm burns as you turn corner after corner, not bothering to take note of where you’re going. It’s no use, though: you can hear him gaining on you. Fuck, is this it? You can’t even fathom what he wants you for, and you don’t want to think about it either—

“Rosethorn!” You come to a screeching halt.

There’s only one person who has ever called you that.

You turn around, chest heaving with exertion, as the hooded soldier—König, the soldier said his name was—comes into view, approaching you slowly.

“It’s me,” he says, holding his hands out like he’s approaching a wounded animal. You’re not really sure what the point is, considering the gigantic knife he’s got strapped to his thigh is intimidating all on its own, but somehow it still puts you at ease.

“Alex...?” you whisper, hardly daring to believe it.

“Yes,” he says. His posture has changed from when you saw him at the checkpoint. He’s hunching over, trying to make himself smaller. It reminds you of that first day when you sat next to him at lunch.

It’s him.

You instantly drop all your bags and cling to him in a hug, tears spilling from your eyes. He’s so different: most obviously, he's so tall. He must have hit some growth spurt after he moved away, because he towers over you now. You can feel under all the gear that he’s put on serious muscle—not surprising for a soldier, of course. And when his arms fold themselves over you, you’re filled with a sense of safety you haven’t felt in a long time.

“What are you doing here?” you both ask at the same time. A giggle bubbles out of you as you watch his eyes crinkle in an obvious smile. God, his eyes are so green.

“I’m stationed here because of the conflict,” he says. “But what are you doing here? I contacted your parents, and they said you had moved here, but they didn’t say why.”

You’re not surprised. You’re still in contact with your parents, but you don’t talk about the elephant in your home. You know they would have helped you, if only you had asked for it, but you never have.

“I…it’s complicated,” you say, withdrawing from the hug. You stare at the ground, brushing away the wetness in your eyes.

“I have nothing urgent right now,” he says, staring at you intently.

You swallow past the lump in your throat. “I…got married,” you whisper.

Instantly, his body language changes, stiffening in shock. He takes a half-step away from you, which makes you want to cry all over again. This is awful. This is humiliating. You wish you could go back in time and shake some sense into yourself.

“I see,” he says in a strangled voice. “Congratulations.”

Despite your best efforts, the tears spill over again. “No, not congratulations,” you say. “It—”

It was the worst mistake of your life, you want to say, but you just can’t get the words out. He must notice you beginning to quake with fear, because he raises a hand to touch you gently on the arm—right on the bruise.

His stare hardens as he watches you flinch. “Rosethorn, what’s the matter?”

Everything, you want to say. I’m standing in an alleyway with my childhood crush, shaking like a leaf because a monster lives in my house, and I can’t get away from him.

With a feather-like touch surprising for a man with such large hands—he grew so much— he goes to push up your sleeve. You catch a glimpse of the bruise before you have to turn away again, shuddering. It’s ugly: black and green, and very clearly shaped like a human grip.

“I…bumped into a shelf,” you say lamely. You can’t bring yourself to rope him into your troubles. He’s a soldier now, for Pete’s sake. He has bigger problems.

You can’t read his expression due to the hood—but there’s a blazing anger in his eyes you remember all too well. The quiet fury you often saw in him so many years ago.

He must see in your expression that you don’t want to be questioned about it right now, and thankfully, he relents. With an ease in his movement that must stem from some newfound confidence, he reaches over and picks up your bags for you. “Let me carry these for you.”

It’s nice, to be taken care of for once.

Your mad dash took both of you quite far away from your building, so you have enough time for quite a nice little chat. You tell him about your time in university, he tells you what happened to him after he moved away. He’d jumped at the chance to enlist as soon as he turned 17, on the recommendation of an uncle who had spent time in the military. You laugh when he tells you that they wouldn’t let him be a sniper, a pout in his tone. You could have imagined him as a sniper back in high school, but he’s so large now it’s impossible not to notice him.

“The discipline was good for me,” he recounts. “I needed to grow a spine.”

“Don’t say that. You were just trying to get by in school, like everybody else.”

He shrugs. “I wanted to be like you.”

“Like me?” You ask incredulously.

“My rose with thorns,” he says, with a fondness that makes you blush. “Do you remember that day you punched that punk Andreas?”

“How could I forget? My fist hurt for days,” you say with a grin. “But I didn’t regret it for a second.”

He looks down at you—that’s new—with pride in his eyes. “I thought about you that day all throughout training,” he says. “You were my guardian angel.”

Your cheeks grow even warmer, and you feel like a teenager again. How can he still make you feel this way so easily after all this time? “He had a punchable face,” you say dismissively. “If not me, then it would have been someone else.”

You’re almost disappointed to arrive home. Only yesterday, home was your sanctuary. Now, it means being separated from the one person you trust fully in this country. You turn to him, almost bashful. “This is where I live."

He sets the bags down like they’re made of fine china, and he’s standing so close you almost stop breathing. The air is charged, the same way it felt that night when you almost kissed. You watch him as he watches you.

“Can I see you again?” he asks, breaking the silence.

“Of course,” you say, and the sparkle in his eye dazzles you.

You watch him leave until you can’t see him anymore. And for once, you enter your home with a light heart.

Remember me, love When I'm reborn As the shrike to your sharp And glorious thorn

if you'd like to be added to the taglist, just drop a reply! feedback is always appreciated, and my inbox is open, so please feel free to drop me an ask! I will 100% write little scenarios/headcanons about this couple because I have so many thoughts and ideas for them lol

I anticipate about 2-3 parts for this, maybe with König pov in the next part? he doesn't come across this way in this part, because it's from Thorn's perspective, but he is a very nasty boy indeed. also, I know putting lyrics in the middle of a fic is so passé, but I can't help myself. it's hozier! indulge me. also this isn't beta read so I really hope it doesn't suck

#bucca writes #könig #könig x reader #könig cod #könig mw2 #call of duty #cod mw2 #cod x reader #cod #mw2 #konig #konig cod #konig x reader #fic:shrike

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lottie150209 · 3 months

Text

TASK FORCE 141 x afab femreader, MDNI!!!

Tags: simon riley x reader, ghost x reader, call of duty, cod mw2, simon ghost riley, cod x reader, cod smut, kyle gaz garrick mw2, kyle gaz garrick x reader, gaz mw2, gaz cod, call of duty smut, john price, price cod, john price smut, soap mactavish, john soap mactavish, soap cod, soap smut

cw: topics of you cheating on Simon, slight non consent from Price, fingering, oral sex (reader receiving), four men on one woman, slight degradation, humiliation topics, choking kink, underwear sniffing/ licking kink, orgasm denial, aggressive attitude, breast play, teasing.

A/N: Sorry i’ve been gone so long I’ve kind of found it hard to find the effort to write!! I have some more ideas coming though and slowly but surely i’m pushing through this. Apologies if this short story may seem a little rushed in places or confusing, I just felt I had to get it done and dusted so I probably isn’t the greatest thing ever!! I hope you enjoy though !! 🎀

You woke up on a dark wooden floor, skin burning from the cold and in nothing but your frilly pink knickers. Your back, brushed against the rough material of an old sofa and the smell of an unfamiliar place filled your nostrils.

Your head is pounding to the same hungover beat of the clubs music last night and finally, you open your eyes. Vision clearing up at the sight of a used condom sprawled out under a clear topped, oak-wooden coffee table.

Where the hell am I? Who’s apartment am I in?

Last night you and your boyfriend Simon had gotten into a heated argument over something minor. As minutes turned into hours of you two going forwards and backwards insulting each other you decided to leave. Slamming your apartment door and heading towards a club your friends were at. Which was now obviously a horrible decision.

A few drinks down and you were completely blacked out, needing something to release your anger, and from the sight of the shrivel up, cum covered latex, it was clear to anyone you found just that. You blinked blindly at the floor, trying to piece together everything and the reality of the situation hit you harshly.

Did I seriously fucking cheat on Simon?

Bile formed in your throat and a dark unsettling channeled through your stomach: watering your eyes and filling disgust and discomfort within yourself. Your nose stung with tears that threatened to spill but before you could even act, a dark figure hovered from above you. It’s shadow grabbing your phone from the table in-front of you.

Reflexively you shot up, taking your weak arms and covering your bare chest as you turn to face the figure, your mouth falling dry as a familiar set of dark eyes scanned your face.

Simon stood there dressed in his military uniform, mask on with his phone in one hand and yours in the other. His expression was unreadable but from what you can figure he must be immensely pissed. The door behind him had clearly been broken into and as you open your mouth to speak his phone beeps, signifying his and your phones are in the same location.

“Simon, Look! I’m so sorry! I don’t even know what happened!” You spat out, standing up to reach your inside out t-shirt and pulling it over your head. Everything felt faded and distorted like you were stuck in a nightmare. The silence between you two was a murderous storm of emotion and raindrops of tears began to fall onto your cheeks. Simon however didn’t utter a word, his face unreadable behind his mask. It was like he didn’t care about anything and you weren’t sure if that was a good thing or a horrible one.

It was like looking through a dead man’s eyes and for once you truly understood the meaning of “Ghost”.

“Please Simon Please! Let’s just go home and talk about it? I’m so sorry! I was drunk and out of my mind! I’m so fucking sorry Simon!” But nothing made him budge. He just kept staring at you, dark brown eyes that would visually kiss down the soft skin of your body, now showing no emotion, no affection and no care. Your words changed nothing about this situation but you knew that even before opening your mouth. No matter how much you plead and cry, nothing could be done. You seriously fucked up.

“Get your shit together. We’re fucking leavin’. ” He growled out, crimson coating every word as he turned his head to look at my scattered clothes. You didn’t question him and you instantly did as he said-fumbling for the rest of your things, slipping on shoes and wasting no time to grabbing your bag. He watched you as you did this, like he was silently judging every move you made.

As if you were a new person to him, a stranger he’d only just met.

After you dressed yourself, the two of you left the stranger’s apartment instantly. No goodbyes or apologies, leaving the poor unknown man alone in his shower. Footsteps followed you out onto the sidewalk and you slipped into Simons car. His aroma filled the air and eloped with the guilt and pain in your stomach.

Why was I so stupid? How could I have done that to him?

“Simon..” You started but you couldn’t finish. His eyes that were once watching the road now settled on your face. You shook your head almost confirming to yourself you couldn’t say anything else; his blank expression rose to the road again. The ride was silent and hurtful, the pain in your gut a knife stabbing you over and over with every slight bump in the road.

The car came to a holt as he parked outside. Without a word you leaped out and stomped up the moss covered stairs before slamming your front door open and barging inside.

It didn’t make any sense why he brought you home, surely he wouldn’t want to be anywhere near me. He realised what I did right? Why didn’t he just leave me?

Simons hesitant footsteps followed behind you as he shut the door gently and walked over to you. Something else was off with him. It wasn’t the first time he’d been mad at you but this time was fucking terrifying. His patiently calm body language and slow speed contradicted his furious demeanour and it goosebumps coated your arms.

Trying to keep it in but obviously failing you broke down in-front of him. Confused cries and helpless sobs cascades through your body and you felt the pain in almost every organ: your lungs, your stomach and heart. This is ridiculous, i’m not the one that should be hurting here.

Your hands started to shake, your vision blurring as tears uncontrollably fell. ‘Stop crying.’ you shouted at yourself it was no use. Your emotions spiralled out of control.

Simons hand cupped one of your cheeks, the rough and scarred skin on his fingers wiping tears away. You were reluctant to keep him so close to you after how badly you hurt him, but you didn’t want to risk making the situation any worse. It made no sense but you couldn’t help but sink into his warm palm. A kiss was planted against the same cheek he rubbed and Simons still dead eyes glared daggers into your sorrowful ones.

“Have a sleep on the couch. I’ll be back later.” He said in an almost whisper before walking out of the house, shutting the door and leaving you alone. For a moment your mind fell blank and weakly fell down on the couch.

A sharp pain in your neck that you didn’t feel before now ached and you realised how uncomfortably you slept before on that wooden floor. Your legs also ached but you decided not to focus on that since that could’ve been from last night and you wanted to forget it all. Even if it was absolutely impossible to you could at least try.

What should I do? What the fuck is even happening?

Still your hands trembled as more and more tears fell from your face, you took a deep breath. You’re crying because of something you’ve done- it was pathetic.

You had absolutely no right to cry, you hurt Simon and now there’s nothing you could do. His words hung around your head and suddenly your eyes felt heavy. He did want you to sleep so it was for the best you did that right? Even if it’s just for ten minutes. Plus it would probably help my head clear and we could tackle this issue later. Together.

Shutting your damp eyes, your head hit the fluffy cushion on the sofa and you felt yourself drift off to sleep, thinking of Simon and regretting everything you’ve done. Hopefully when you wake up, he had cleared his mind a little, Hopefully when you wake up, he’ll take you back into his loving arms and hug you and tell you ‘It’s okay, we all make mistakes, doll.’ But you could only hope.

When your eyes opened, it didn’t take long for you to register it had been a bit more than just ten minutes. The apartment lights were still off from earlier and the sun from outside had set already, casting an orange hue through the windows. Your head ached from all the crying earlier and you suddenly remembered the situation you are in.

Holy fuck, I need to talk to Simon.

But before you could begin to get up off of the sofa your eyes flicked to your right. Catching a glance at the three random men staring at you.

Your throat ran dry and a shriek like gasp fell from your partially dry lips. One of them was sat on the other sofa, horizontal from you. His hair dark and in a sort of mohawk style, his face had a little bit of stubble on his chin and his eyes flashed away from yours back to the others.

Another guys sat sprawled out on the armchair. His gaze was much harsher and more intense than the others. It was like he was trying to see through you, like he was some king looking down on his dainty little servant. His breathing was visible and you took in how his chest rose and fell shakily.

And for the final guy, he stood between the couch and chair in-front of you. His arms folded across his broad chest and the faint remains of a smirk glued to his handsome face. He looked younger than the other too and you swallowed the saliva that was stuck in your throat. Pondering on what to say to them but a voice cut you off.

“So the cheat has finally chosen to wake up?” The man in the chair said, a deep chuckle slipping out matching the smugness in his eyes. You scanned their bodies again going by each and every one of them and finally it clicked who they were. They were Simons teammates. Simon had been begging for you to meet them, to introduce his only love to the people he trusted with his life. And now they are here, calling you a cheater. What a great first impression. Fighting the yawn that was yearning to leave your lips, you locked eyes with the man who was sat on your sofa.

“Simon isn’t here.. So you may as well come back tomorrow and check.” You muttered. Simon had told you earlier he’d be back and since they had clearly sat down to wait for him you figured he wasn’t home yet. You’d be lucky if he returned home at all actually. The overwhelming guilt from earlier flooded back through you, overpowering your thoughts yet again. You knew the sleep would make you forget temporarily but it was almost harder to swallow down your emotions for a second time. The guy that was sat on the chair stood up, clenching his knees with a deep sigh. He began to walk over to you, hunching over and his size intimidated you slightly; he was taller than you thought. Oceanic eyes pierced through yours, awakening some sort of emotion that made your stomach rattle uneasily.

Where is Simon? I hope he comes home soon.

“Let us introduce ourselves..” His dark gravelly voice spoke and his lip lifted up in a smirk as he itches closer to my face. “I’m Price, that’s Soap over there on that settee and that’s Gaz..” His head nodded in the various directions as he mentioned each name. You felt as your eyes indecisively flicked between each of them before focusing on the white ceiling like some nervous child. Price exhaled in amusement before turning to glance at the others and giving a short nod.

“You see my lovey, our boy Simon means an awful lot to us..” He began. His voice smooth however the huskiness added texture, like a mix of sandpaper and silk. Burning eyes left yours for a second and his blue pupils latched onto your lips. “And when he gets agitated with a girl,” Soap and Gaz walked towards us swiftly. Gaz positioned himself on Prices left while Soap took the right, finishing his friends sentence with a thick Scottish accent. “So do we.”

Slowly, you let your eyes shut for a minute, gut summersaulting and face a burning mess. Not only had you utterly ruined the relationship between you and Simon, you had now upset his friends. Although you knew it was horrible to think like that, but a part of you felt more intimidated by the fact his friends were angry with you. Simon had limits, he had boundaries that you was aware of. But this was the first time you’d met them. You had no idea what they could do to you and how far they’d take things. You sat there as the three men towered above you, with three pairs of eyes staring back at you. They wouldn’t do anything too bad, right?

“And when we get agitated, we don’t play nice. Do we?” His face turned to his sides directing the questions at the two by his sides. My heart throbbed all around my body in right places and wrong ones and a sense of dread fell down into my stomach. Simon was bound to pissed with you- absolutely furious even and here his friends are. Talking like this with you, in that tone. It could just be an innocent little encounter of them threatening me to not hurt Simon again.

But the way his voice teased out every word made it hard to believe that. You gulped thickly at what they could be insinuating, your head racing wildly with thoughts that you shouldn’t be having.

Your mouth widened to protest but Price cut me off, turning to the guy on his left, giving him a look as the other smirked. His legs danced on the spot to the left and right before he was facing me again, his hand rubbing his chin, fingers massaging his jaw. Your eyes furrowed and locked onto him. He was thinking about something, but what? And just like the universe was listening to your queries, he dove for my chin. Holding it up hard with his index finger and stroking your lips with his thumb. You could smell the tobacco on his breath as his eyes were locked onto your lips, staring deeply.

He scanned each and every little crack and he rubbed the flesh smiling to himself. His sight drifted back to you.

“You’re lips are stunning girl,” Almost on que, Soap came from behind him and hovered over you, threading his fingers through the waistband of your bottoms and dragging them down. What the hell? Your lips parted and Prices thumb fell slightly however before you could shrug him off his whole other hand covered your mouth, innocent blue eyes darkened and began to look more grey as a sinister half-smirk half-snarl forced upon his lips.

“I wanna see the other lips too.” Your breathing hitched and the fear on your face must have been visible as Gaz let out a laugh and Soap began threading your feet out of your bottoms. The heat on your cheeks had travelled down into your stomach and you just knew your eyes faltered for a moment. All thoughts dissipated when reality slipped back for a second. Simon, you had already hurt him. Imagine if he finds out about this, about his close friends stripping you down and teasing you. About his cheating lying slut of a woman had snuck behind his back and taken on not one but three of them. You couldn’t let his happen, You had to stop this.

Prices hand grabbed hold of your clothed sex, smirking in delight as the slick stuck to your panties, warmed his fingers. A hum left his lips while a gasped moan left yours. The same thumb from before circled your clothed clit, the one place that made you vulnerable. Soap and Gaz had both inched back forward, closing you in like a little box. Your focus glued on Prices actions. He was so clearly experienced, finding the clit so fast and circling it at the right speed. Not too slow but not fast. Your eyes fell shut again as it began to feel good, the sound of his voice opening them a little while later.

“Simon told me all about this little thing,” He pressed his finger into your clit almost like a button, the pressure was hard and for such a sensitive part of your body you whined.

“He told us all about how you like it. The way you don’t like going to fast and how slow is good but you don’t want it too take too long and spoil the moment. He spoke to us about how wet this little girl gets when being tended too. We all thought he was joking but fuck.” His apples adam bobbed in his throat as he swallowed the saliva stored up in his throat. The hunger in his eyes enough to make a man’s stomach growl. He was starving.

“Gaz, get her knickers off. I need to have a taste.” You twitched down there and your eyeballs nearly jumped out of their sockets. The thin fabric of your underwear slipping down your thighs before you could even process what he said. Prices breathing hitched as he locked eyes with your pussy. Unable to look at him out of embarrassment you lifted your eyes back to Gaz to catch what him and Soap were doing.

Soaps hands crashed together as my now screwed up underwear few from Gaz to Soap like it was some basketball. ‘How lovely’ you thought. Shockingly though, Soap caught it with no ease, shaking it out and holding it from the top to get a better look. Prices finger touched against your bare pussy and he held it there for a few seconds, his eyes watching as you looked at Soap no doubt.

Soft blue eyes, unlike Prices store into yours as he brought your panties to his face and placed the damped crotch to his nose. Taking a slow and long sniff and savouring your erotic scent. For a moment you swore you watched his eyes roll back and a twitch come from the bulge in his military uniform. His tongue quickly gushed out his mouth, licking a line from where you’d worn them, tasting my flavourful nectar and grunting. You looked away too embarrassed at this point and a groan fell from his mouth.

“Little beamer tastes great Cap, go on ‘ave a taste.” Your cheeks flared hotter and you tried to squeeze your thighs together preventing him but he caught you before. Spreading you wide open and putting you on display. All of their eyes were locked onto your aching slit and you felt the heat burn down your neck. Beard hairs tickled your inner thighs and a warm tongue swiped down you. Shivering you felt how wet and smooth his tongue was on your clit and he began to worship you, taking the focus away from your embarrassment to your pleasure. His lips slapped against your flaps and you cursed yourself mentally, knowing you was probably soaking his beard. You squeezed your eyes shut and let yourself relax as you soaked in deeper and deeper. He ate you like a mad man and you were lost in lust.

It felt like hours before you began to get close and the thought of what the other two were doing crossed your mind. You looked up to find both Soap and Gaz shirtless, their scars and scratches visible and showing off, making there already sexy body even hotter. Price began to growl into you and you let out a cry feeling close. Your pussy throbbed harder and harder and you felt it in your throat. You couldn’t stop your legs as they began to shake. You were going to cum, you were about to fucking cum. But then it all faded.

Price drug his tongue away, a clear string of spit, cum or whatever joint his beard to you. His breath was heavy and his delicate and gentle fingers from before fell down giving you a gentle slap on the clit. What, why? All he did was look down on you and he ripped off his military gauntlets and vest taking off the top below. Three half naked muscular men staring from infront of you while you sat there panting, pussy on show and drunk on the pleasure they were giving you. For a punishment, this wasn’t a hell of a lot bad. Your eyebrows furrowed as you locked your eyes back on Price.

“Why? Why did you do that? I was close.” Your tone spat out like a spoiled brat but he just smirked gesturing his arms to the two other gentlemen stood there. You had to hold yourself back from moaning as you realised what he was signifying.

“I wouldn’t dream of taking all the fun now, would I?” Soap and Gaz stepped forward, the same starving expression plastered on their face as Prices. The couch bobbed down as Soaps weight fell next to you and he leant over, tearing off your T-shirt, revealing your bare breasts. He must’ve been surprised you weren’t wearing a bra but he clearly wasn’t complaining. Snatching your left nipple in between his teeth and squeezing the other one harshly. Gaz on the other hand, knelt down between your legs but instead of tasting you, he slowly dragged his finger up and down between your folds.

“Has she been good enough Sir? Does she deserve my fingers?” He asked Price or so you assumed, Price just let out a laugh and Gaz licked his lips slowly eyeing up how we you were. Admiring as your clear juices lubricated his fingers.

“You’re absolutely soaking, my love. My finger would slip in like butter.” You whimpered as them dirty words left his lips. You needed either his mouth on you or his fingers deep inside, the pleasure was getting too much for you. You were too far gone now to back out.

You squeezed your mouth shut, lips quivering as you felt his finger prod your tight entrance. You cried out a loud moan as his finger rammed into you hard and started fucking you slowly.

Tears welled up in your drunken eyes as he abused your g spot over and over again and although it felt good, you didn’t feel your stomach knot or feel yourself get close again; It wouldn’t give you the orgasmic feeling you were chasing after. You were being used and after some time it began to burn a little. Through your shakes and sobs, Soaps teeth sunk into your breasts again, leaving hickeys on your soft skin. The roughness from the two men leaving you flustered. They were completely different from Price, they were savage. You winced and closed your eyes, the pain more prominent than the pleasure. Footsteps walked over to Gaz who was still between your thighs and Price placed his two hands on his shoulders.

“Slower Gaz, take your time and work her.” Gaz looked up at Price nodding and then he worked his fingers into you slowly, taking note at how your back arched and trembled at the feeling.

Fuck this was good. You found myself muttering words, a few pleases there and many yeses, it was embarrassing but you couldn’t even think. His hands continued to penetrate you slowly and softly, not harsh and not fast and it felt heavenly. His other hand slid onto your bladder and he weighted a bit of pressure onto it, making his fingers feel deeper and deeper inside. Your stomach twisted and you needed more. You wanted one of their cocks deep inside you but you were Simon’s.

You couldn’t be wanting that, You shouldn’t even be doing this. You’ve cheated on him once before and now, with his friends? You thought about stopping it but there was something about the way they tended to you that refrained me from that. The way they moved and caressed your body; you couldn’t pull away just yet. You needed to cum and you would wait here until they let you.

Fingers pumped into you faster as Gaz sped up matching your shaking breaths and moans. Every now and then he’d curl his fingers into you and cackle at how your legs shook before he ripped them out teasing you. Every muscle in your body felt tense and he worked you until the familiar feeing swarmed deep in your stomach. You found yourself slowly grinding against his fingers, desperate for that sensation to explode inside you and all three of them exchanged looks. Of course you were embarrassed but fuck it, in that moment you couldn’t help but be taken away by your wishes. The feeling inside you started to amplify and your whole body ran hot and suddenly you were coming to the edge. Your breathing stoped as you held your breath unconsciously but instead of exhaling as you came, you found yourself being chocked.

Thick, familiar fingers tightened the grip on your throat as you felt your orgasm travel through you. You couldn’t breathe, what the hell was he doing? And then you froze. The three men were still in front of you. Gaz had his fingers inside you and on your bladder, Soap was busy playing with your tits and Price was admiring your pretty, lewd face as his hands clenched around Gaz.

“Pull your fingers out Gaz.” Simon demanded, hands still squeezing your throat from behind the sofa. His voice melted into your ears like hot honey and your cum gushed out of your hole and coated the fingers inside. With a smirk, Gaz yanked them out and licked them clean, standing up and walking over to Price as they reached for their shirts. What?

Your head felt dizzy and just like earlier things went back to making no sense. Did Simon just walk in? You scanned the men’s faces again but they weren’t alarmed or worried, they were fine. Simon let go of you partially, his hands rubbing soothing circles down your back. The sweat on your forehead shone in the sunset and you turned around to face Simon in attempt explain but he cut you off, passionately kissing you. His tongue tickled against your lips and he pulled away with a demeaning smirk on his face, chocolate eyes drowning deeply in yours.

“If you wanted another man to toy with, jus’ let me know, yeah? I don’t mind if you want to switch things up for a bit. Just make sure it’s one of these fine gents.” You blinked and scanned his face to see if he was being sarcastic or trying to see if you’d take the bate but there was nothing but honesty. He planted another solemn kiss on your cheek and let out a chuckle, rubbing your turning to his teammates who were now fully dressed.

“I’ve got to say Simon, you’ve caught yourself a good lass.” Soap said with a chuckle, looking down at me with some remaining hunger. Prices turned to face us too, his nonchalant expression turned into another seductive grin. Simon just smiled to himself and looked back down at you. Your confused but relieved expression warming his heart and hardening his cock and he couldn’t look away.

“I know, she’s fuckin’ fun to please, ain’t ya?”

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #call of duty #cod mw2 #simon ghost riley #cod x reader #cod smut #kyle gaz garrick mw2 #kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz mw2 #gaz cod #call of duty smut #john price #price cod #john price smut #soap mactavish #john soap mactavish #soap cod #soap smut

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jiminjamms · 3 months

Text

sex therapy :: 26. together

chapter tags/warnings: a very broken marriage. heavy angst. at least i am not gege. mai and maki and megumi as an iconic trio. infidelity/adultery. family drama. strong language. corruption.

word count: 4.8k

notes: thank you for the overwhelming reception from the last chapter! work has been consuming my life, sadly, which is why this chapter took longer than i anticipated. gr. in this upcoming piece, though, my main focuses are the character development in y/n as well as explanations from toji himself. enjoy! likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated. xoxo

fic masterlist | 01. 02. 03. 04. 05. 06. 07. 08. 09. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33.

A large, warm hand massaged the delicate stretch between your thumb and forefinger.

Gently. Leisurely. Daintily.

Vanilla and cinnamon notes entered your lungs with every inhale, a velvetiness akin to everything you imagined clouds to be like if brushing against your cheek, the comforting sensations bringing back nostalgic memories from the carefree times your heart longed to return to.

Was this Heaven? you wondered in this dark and dreamy daze.

You would not mind staying in this state eternally if that meant the promise of peace and quiet forever.

A voice, not from yourself, dispersed your thoughts.

“Suguru, what are the chances she won’t ever wake up?”

Wake up?

Oh, so you were just asleep.

“Shut up, Sukuna,” another person quipped, this tone more leveled and coarser than the last. “Don’t say shit like that.”

The first person, who must be Sukuna then, chuckled lowly to himself. “Oh, who would’ve thought? Choso is having a soft spot?” he marveled with great interest, “Since when did you care so much about—”

But a third voice interrupted the banter. “She’s awake.”

After a long struggle, your eyes fluttered open to see a crowd gathered around you. Immediately beside you was Suguru Geto. He had been the one nestling your hand, but he practically didn’t look like himself with the concern etched into his brow, replacing the cheerfulness in his typical visage. Behind him stood Sukuna and Choso. The former grinned with fierce satisfaction, while the latter…scowled at you?

To be fair, Choso always scowled at you.

“Good evening, gorgeous.” Geto greeted with a melancholic smile, giving you another squeeze, firm and encouraging. Like a true gentleman, he helped you sit upright, his other hand reaching over your head to brush aside some stray strands by your forehead. “Are you feeling okay?”

Exhaustion, meanwhile, rattled you to the bone.

You were weak, your movements fragile, almost like you were a fawn in her first hours of life. You blinked rapidly while taking in the new environment, only to quickly recognize the gray and cream colors in your surroundings. Back at Toji’s apartment was where you found yourself, with the familiar spiced floral scents from the flickering candle nearby confirming that this was the master bedroom.

Given the dull throb by your temples, you frowned.

“What—?” your voice came out as a hoarse rasp. “What happened?”

The trio traded looks at each other with communicative eyes.

In the end, Choso tucked his hands into his front pocket and took the initiative to speak.

“You were in the Zenin residence with Mai and Maki, remember?” No, not really.“Got into an argument with your husband. Started having a panic attack. Collapsed. Puked.”

Oh…

Recollections from your last conscious moments flooded your head like a tsunami: the screaming, the crying, and the fighting. Loud, angry, bitter fighting.

Fighting for your dignity. Fighting for your heart. Fighting for your life. Goodness gracious. As much as the memories sucked all life from you, you instead felt completely…numb.

After all, you had already been dead on the inside. You were too worn out, both physically and emotionally, to react. Everything that you had to go through since your wedding had brought you to your wit’s end, and this recent altercation with Naoya Zenin was truly the icing on the cake.

When you caught sight of yourself in a nearby mirror, you could hardly recognize yourself. Your expression, glum. Your lips, chafed, Your face, pallor. Absent of any other color than an ashen hue.

“How…did I get here?”

“Mai and Maki got worried and called Toji, who told them to bring you here,” Sukuna answered this time. “You’re lucky the girls reacted fast, else we would have sent you to an emergency room. Suguru even stopped his shift at his clinic to watch over you.”

“I—,” you sighed, lost for words and dropping your tired gaze to the floor. Dealing with inner turmoil to this degree was more than what any sane person could handle. All efforts towards your happiness were in vain anyway, as the cosmos conspired to make your existence one neverending nightmare. Everyone else had their ambitions and shit to deal with, but here you were as an absolute nuisance to the people who should not be otherwise pestered, and you were ashamed for the unnecessary trouble that you had caused. “Gosh, this is embarrassing.”

“We are so sorry!”

Unexpectedly, the apology came from a girl’s voice, and you had to turn around to see three familiar teenagers by the bedroom door.

Just last week, you would never have imagined ever seeing Mai, Maki, and Megumi together. Yet, here you were, watching the twins and their—technically speaking—nephew (cute) standing side-by-side, twiddling their thumbs in their nervous corner (also cute).

Flustered and prepared for admonishment, Mai bowed her head at a slight angle as she hurriedly explained, “We don’t…We don’t mean to put you in an awkward position. We just didn’t know what to do. Maki and I were worried when you fell to the floor and started throwing up. We…We should’ve asked for your permission on who to call for help. But we didn’t know who else to phone, so we ended up dialing Toji. Now, we’ve put you in a weird spot and that is all our fault—”

“Do not apologize. That was the right thing to do.” The comment came from yet another person, and when Sukuna and Choso stepped to the side, who you saw at the room’s furthest end was none other than Toji Fushiguro himself.

He had taken a seat all the way by the wall, with one leg thrust over the other in a relaxed but kingly sort of manner. With his sleeves rolled up, his forearms bled to his wrists with ink, and the emeralds in his sharp gaze gleamed as he stared pointedly in your direction.

Of everyone in the room, his countenance appeared the most composed, but you could feelhim reading through the emotions present on your face. He inclined forward, resting his elbow on his knee and his chin on his palm.

When he noticed the slightest shift in your posture too, the tiny scar by his lips flexed along with a smile.

“So, you’ve figured me out, hm?”

Easily, you could sense all seven pairs of eyes in the room (the four therapists plus the three teens) landing on you. The sudden attention rendered you nervous. Even if you chose silence as your response, the entire room, the entire planet, and perhaps even the entire galaxy could speculate your answer through your expression alone.

After a long while, you breathed out, “You didn’t tell me that you were a Zenin.”

The elephant in the room had to be addressed obviously, and you were not shy to confront the situation head-on.

While you did not intend to sound accusatory, your tone came off as such anyway. How could you not, when you had essentially been misled for weeks? Sure, Toji probably did not want to be badmouthing the Zenins to the very person (you) who had been recently married into the family. But, by withholding the fact that he and your husband were cousins, Toji had created much unnecessary anguish including the current limbo that your marriage was in right now.

Meanwhile, that same man pressed his nails into his chin in contemplation.

“I am not a Zenin, though,” he eventually corrected in a domineering voice, all austere in his throne. “At least, not any longer. I took my first wife’s last name years ago. I go by Fushiguro now.” Curt, direct, and pithy. Toji wasted not a syllable. “Everything worked out though, I guess. Naobito cut me off from the Zenin clan earlier this year. Gave me ten billion yen and told me to get lost, so I did.”

Toji always kept his private matters to himself, but with everything that he had gone through, you were struck by his poise, as if being expelled from such an influential household had been a high-school breakup he had gotten over long ago.

Nonetheless, you wondered if he missed that other life, and you brought your knees toward your chest.

“So,” how should you put this, “you’re not upset?”

Toji scoffed immediately.

“Upset?” A bitter grin spread off his lips. “Why would I be upset? That household is a trash dump. All my life, there were no choices for me to make when my uncles and granduncles decided everything already,” and he began counting with his fingers, “my teachers, my classes, my extracurriculars, my friends. Everything. I was only a puppet to bring honor to the family name, bring in money for the company.”

Listening to his sonorous voice, you rested your cheek onto a knee.

"I see."

His story was depressing, and from conversations with in-laws such as Mai and Maki, you knew that he was not lying, either. Coming from nobility as well, you were also aware of the pressures that came with the people who boasted their 'old-money' statuses, but the Zenin household had always been notorious for being miserable.

Toji had said so before in a prior discussion, how ‘family isn’t family for something like the Zenins’ because both politics and business took precedence.

Then, he went on.

“Some people would kill to have my problems, but I did not want that life, you know? Around the time I started college, I decided that I wanted to make judgments for myself and be my own distinct entity, but that made people upset. Privileged. Entitled. Ungrateful. Whatever. My family members called me many things as a young adult when they figured I did not want to be their pawn for my whole life, with the only person who understood me for many years being my best friend in university.”

Megumi’s mom.

Toji nearly appeared to be an altogether different person whenever he spoke about his first wife. The chartreuse in his eyes would stir with both sorrow and fond reminiscence as he thought about the Mrs. Fushiguro you would never get to meet, his closest confidant whom he lost to the cruel separation brought by life versus death. She must have been someone whom he valued a lot—a person who completely transformed him—as Toji had discarded his last name (which was Zenin, of all things) for hers.

‘He truly loved my mom,’ Megumi explained before. 'He had given up everything.’

Thus, fate could truly be unfair.

The loss and pain Toji must have endured, a topic Megumi had alluded to in his discussion with you before.

Not to mention, the expectations, frustration, and suffocation that came from the clan's elders, too. Experiencing the intense atmosphere in the Zenin household firsthand allowed you to empathize with him. Given the stark differences between him and your lawful husband, there was no wonder Toji did not wish to deal with his older relatives' high-strung conventions.

But, if he had been suffering so much…

“Why did you care so much for what your family thought?” you asked, disregarding the look that the three teenagers by the door exchanged with each other. “Toji, you went to university in the United States. You had a wife and son at a young age. You went from a business background to a licensed therapist, so why did you not—”

“Leaving is difficult when you’re the family heir and the corporation’s CEO.”

The expression that you then returned was blank.

Huh?

His words triggered something in your head, so you repeated after him.

“Leaving is difficult when,” and your voice trailed off, “when…you…are the heir and CEO.”

Heir. CEO.

Zenin.

Toji.

Naoya.

But Toji’s older.

‘Naoya got into a huge dispute with him earlier this year.’

Sheer realization slapped you hard across your face. No way.

“Toji,” you began after letting the revelation sink into you a while later, but your voice barely eeked above a mumble, “so you were once the successor to the Zenin household and company?"

The man in question did not respond, but the silent affirmation from the six other onlookers was an answer in itself.

Yes.

In hindsight, you wanted to say you had always seen the possibility. Still, you never fully registered this until now: the thoughtfulness in his strategy, the sophistication in his speech, the charisma in his leadership.

Previously, Toji had impressed you with how much he knew about the Zenin Corporation’s market share in the Asia-Pacific or the firm’s outsized influence on the international stage. Yet, most (including yourself) would not guess that someone like Toji Fushiguro—your tattooed and brawny sex therapist (plus single dad)—had once been heralded as the indisputable inheritor to the proud lineage and conglomerate.

That had been your mistake.

Toji was more than what people made him out to be, which reminded you to never assume anything superficially about someone—a remark he had once made. For good reason, because he had been referring to himself all along.

You could almost visualize Toji Fushiguro as the seasoned executive he had once been in light of this new information: his black strands slicked into a side part, his charcoal blazer freshly pressed, his leather oxfords newly polished.

Maybe because he was more mature or maybe because he was simply older, but Toji appeared more fitting for the important roles in the Zenin household compared to the man presently poised for succession.

Consequently, you must also ask, “Then, how did Naoya end up in your seat?”

Sukuna and Megumi shared a glance.

Choso grimaced, and Suguru kissed his teeth.

Meanwhile, Toji ran a lone finger down his jaw, following the lines from a tattoo.

“Let me give you some context, sweetheart,” he offered, now brushing his chin as he spoke. “For the last—let’s say—few hundred years, the oldest male in each generation became the leader in the Zenin clan. Is the rule stupid? Yes. Should there be more criteria in evaluating a potential heir aside from birth order? Also yes. But nothing has stopped this before because the Zenins, as you know by now, are a family built on antiquity and tradition. So, when I was born as the oldest male in my generation and Naoya had come in second place...”

Toji did not have to finish his sentence for you to figure out the rest.

Despite the demands that came along with being the next family head, Toji must have been esteemed as nothing short of a crown price among the Japanese elite, with seniors in the Zenin household utilizing all their resources to prepare the once young and starry-eyed boy for taking over such an influential role. Naturally, his enviable position would spark jealousy, even from those whom Toji deemed related to by birth.

Including his very own younger first cousin.

Toji frowned in exasperation.

“Your husband is one childish and jealous brat, but Naoya Zenin has been like that for as long as I have known him. To claim the heir and CEO titles, he acquired the trust from myself and my colleagues by working with us in sex therapy, only to stab us all in the back. He’s a liar. A total manipulator.”

And, from personal experiences, you knew that those words could not be more true.

At this point, Toji sank his handsome face into his immense palm.

“Well, now Naoya Zenin has everything he wants but is still an incompetent asshole. The whole enterprise is hanging by a thread. The entire clan cannot fucking stand him. What’s crazy is that his father Naobito is not doing anything about this, and I cannot tell if that is because the old man is giving his son free passes or because he has finally gotten senile. With Naoya's pettiness, though, the father-son duo have done everything to erase my name from the family, even going as far as to dismiss the executives that I brought onto the management team to undo my legacy.”

When Toji glanced up to cast his gaze forward, you then suddenly understood that the three other men in the room were more than just his fellow board-licensed colleagues.

You recalled Toji’s words in the Teyvat meeting room.

‘I recruited these guys right when they completed their undergraduate degrees, around the time I just opened my therapy office,’ and the puzzle pieces clicked into place from the realization that sex therapy had not been the only thing that Toji had worked with them on—Sukuna, Choso, and Suguru had been executives at the Zenin Corporation reporting to Toji, too. ‘We’ve been working together since, for the past four years.’

Discerning these revelations from your expressions, Toji added in confirmation.

“I had selected these three to oversee the Zenin Corporation’s operations with me,” he said, and you remembered the same conversation in which the men discussed their University of Tokyo studies while Toji listed their previous roles. Sukuna, Economics. “Sukuna, Director of Investments and Real Estate.” Choso, Mechanical Engineering. “Choso, Chief Engineer and Supply Chain Manager.” Suguru, Biology. “Suguru, Healthcare and Innovation Administrator.”

Arguably the most consequential divisions in a conglomerate that spanned numerous sectors, with each department bringing in yen by the billions every year.

‘These guys have treated me like family more than my blood-related kin have.’

Learning this about the four therapists added to your fascination.

For you, the discovery was like uncovering a hidden treasure trove. To imagine everything that the four—as one cohesive unit—had gone through together at the top of the corporate ladder: scrutiny from the media and stakeholders, impromptu meetings that demanded make-or-break decisions, and immediate responses to industry trends and regulations.

Only for them to be cast aside by no one other than your husband.

In the end, this all made sense.

Now, you understood why the therapists were once incredibly demeaning and belligerent toward you. How could they possibly sympathize with the woman married to the man who had taken virtually everything from them?

Heck, if you were in their shoes and had no further context, you would hate yourself, too.

Only now were you hearing their perspectives, and you were grateful that—compared to several weeks before—they trusted you enough to open up.

At last, all you could do was sigh and mutter, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

Sukuna shot back without hesitation, which stunned you given how he had been the one who mocked you the most. Yet, a scintilla of kindness flared in his fiery eyes, so you continued with your tone softer and quieter.

“I feel terrible.” Such vulnerability in front of so many people at once went beyond your comfort zone. “For the unfairness Naoya had brought upon you all, and how I…I can’t change anything. I can’t do anything. All I am is…useless.”

“No, you are powerful,” Suguru interjected this time. “Your husband relies on your public image to keep scrutiny off him. He needs you. He’s been demoralizing you for months because he knows the ball will always be in your court, and never his.”

His words made you stop.

“You truly think so?” you asked.

“Yes.”

Choso, who replied, seemed honest.

He was honest.

He might throw you off from how aloof and stoic his attractive face would appear, but Choso was not a liar.

Bringing your feet off the bed, you slowly swung your feet.

“I…am surprised you all even want to talk to me.”

Toji tugged at his dress shirt’s collar and flashed his ink-covered muscles underneath. “What makes you think that?”

His pointed question made you realize how much Naoya had been fucking with your mind, blaming and villainizing you at every chance, thus devolving you into a spineless worm feeling remorse for every little thing.

Shrugging, you tossed your gaze to the side.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “You could have avenged yourself by now. I am Naoya’s wife and Naobito’s daughter-in-law. There had been a thousand chances for you to do something horrible to me: to hurt me, blackmail me, spread dirty rumors about me, but…you haven’t.”

“Why would I do that?” Toji replied instantly and candidly. Rather than appearing offended by your judgments, he started giving you that look again whenever he had his therapist hat on—the one where he would tilt his head at a slight angle to gauge the sentiments painted across your face. “I could have chosen to be bitter and vengeful for the rest of my life, but I am grateful for what I have. Why let a toxic bunch impact my life? I already told you how that household is an absolute fucking hell. I'm glad I have found an out. At the very least, my son would not have to deal with the crap from my young adult years because you know who is the oldest male in the generation after mine?”

Megumi.

All gazes now fell upon the younger Fushiguro, who tried to casually shrug the attention off.

Who cares if I was second-in-line to leading perhaps the most prestigious family in Japan? his nonchalance wanted to convey, but his ears turned pink anyway.

Toji continued, “Then, of course, there are some people whom I care about a lot.” Using his head, he gestured to the twins. “These girls are the best aunts to my son that I, as a father, could ever ask for. They’re only one year older than Megumi, but Mai and Maki used to go on playdates with him on the weekends, walk him to school every morning, and cook him breakfasts over the holidays. The twins even helped my son take his first steps. There is this one photo we have in the library—I don’t know if you have gotten a chance before to see it. But there’s Mai and Maki, each holding one of Megumi’s little hands back in his chubby toddler days and—”

“Dad!” a very flustered and irritated teenage boy finally had to say. “This is not the time to talk about that picture!”

Next to him, a proud Mai and Maki coo and tease their grouchy nephew, poking at his puffed-up cheeks and ruffling his uncombed hair.

“Aw, is someone a little embarrassed?”

Smiling at the little banter from the trio, Toji did not let them distract him from his conversation with you. “What I’m trying to get at is…life’s too short not to enjoy the happy sides of it,” but his eyes glazed with rue nevertheless, “Now is the perfect time to focus on your well-being. Take a look around this room. A lot of people want to see you leading a fulfilling life, Y/N. A fulfilling life for yourself, not for anyone else. Not for me, not for anyone in this room, and certainly not for your husband. Nothing—and I mean absolutely nothing—should hold you back from pursuing your health and happiness.”

While you assumed that your best times were over, Toji reminded you those good days can be brought back with the right attitude. He had a point. Why should you allow your marriage to hinder you from connecting with people whom you care about, working towards the passions that brought you purpose, and feeling the love that you deserve?

Instead, you should seek every sunrise and sunset as an opportunity to live better and without regrets.

As you ruminated on this different mindset, a sudden knock from the door cut your thoughts short.

Who…

Like you, most others looked around blankly, but Toji ordered from his seat, “Let him in.”

Mai, who stood closest to the entryway, obeyed.

Once she unlocked the door, the room fell silent save for the footsteps of the man walking in, his soles creating soft echoes on the linoleum floor. Overhead, pale lights revealed the lines etched on his exhausted face, the worry that sat heavily on his chest.

“Mister Daisuke,” someone eventually acknowledged out of respect.

Your father did not hear the greeting as he searched the room, his sullen gaze darting from face to face until he found you. His shoulders fell from his overwhelming relief. Still in a suit after a long workday, he stumbled forward feebly.

“You’re alright,” he whispered between steps, scarcely audible.

He crouched toward the floor once he approached you, and when Suguru transferred your hands into your father’s, you noticed the unstoppable quiver from the latter even as you gripped him tightly in an attempt to stop the tremor.

His skin was tough, weathered by his additional decades in life. But, in his palms, you found the familiar tenderness that had comforted you since you were a little girl and, in his gaze, you noticed the sadness only found in the despair of a heartbroken parent.

“Thank goodness, you are okay,” and before everyone, tears slipped past his eyes, “I was terrified. I was so scared. When Toji called to tell me you had thrown up and collapsed, do you know how afraid I was?”

You glanced over at the said therapist, reminding yourself that—if Toji had been the CEO before Naoya—he must have worked very closely with your COO father up until recently. For your father to know exactly where you were and walk in with this expression suggested that the former colleagues had had a lengthy conversation about your circumstances. A part of you wanted to be angry. Why drag your father into this worry? But a larger part of you had always wanted to reveal to him the wretched months that had gone by and longed for his support.

And now, he was here.

The older man took a shuddering breath and brought his fingers to your cheek, holding and cradling you like he would never get to do this again.

“I can’t lose you,” he lamented. “I have lost enough in my life already. I cannot lose you, too. I just can’t. Why have you not told me the truth? If you were not happy with Naoya, why have you not told me sooner? Did you think I would place my loyalty to the company over my own child? I feel so guilty and broken to hear about what you have been going through.”

Frankly, you felt just as broken, too.

In fact, seeing and hearing your father weep like this shattered you. As devoted as your father was, his front never failed to be unwavering and strong. Even when your mother’s death left a significant hole in his heart, he bit back his grief. Scars from your mother’s untimely death scarred his heart, wounds that never healed and would stay with him until his last breath, but he rarely expressed his suppressed sorrow.

All for your sake. Because you were his one and only daughter, his one and only child.

So now, for him to see you in such a sorry state was crushing his whole world that had become you.

“Dad.” You helped him wipe his tears away, just like how he had always done for you. “I didn’t want to make you disappointed. I didn’t want to make you sad. I…I just wanted to protect you.”

“No,” he responded firmly. How could a loving father accept the possibility that his daughter would even think about placing him before herself? “Protect yourself first.”

You looked up when you sensed two more approaching individuals and found Mai and Maki with doleful smiles.

“We still have something to return to you, Y/N.”

In your left palm, each girl pressed one ring—the first which promised a future forever and the second which symbolized an infinite unity.

You stared at the jewelry as your chest remembered the waves of happiness, excitement, hope, confusion, betrayal, and pain.

So, so much pain.

Your father, who would not miss the solemn undertones in your gaze, squeezed your hands in his.

“My dear daughter,” he started, and you could tell he could no longer bear to see you suffer any longer, “what are you planning to do?”

Your throat turned dry.

Any possibility seemed like a viable solution, a means for a desperate escape.

For months, you should have prepared yourself for this very question, but now that you were confronted with this reality for the first time, you did not know what to say.

You had clutched onto the false hope for your troubled marriage to be sorted out. Escaping your dreary matrimony had once been too far-fetched of an option given an impending cold war between your families, which you would never wish upon the stars to happen. Therefore, even as you found yourself stuck on a stifling dead end, you did not exactly prepare for the next steps for the occasion you found Naoya Zenin’s mistreatment too much to bear.

However, times have changed.

Your allies and enemies have changed.

Most of all, you have changed.

Therefore, with all the universe’s possibilities at your fingertips, one particular option stuck out.

“I’m going to file for a divorce.”

last chapter || next chapter

end notes: So many things. To see us freak out at the idea of a divorce during the beginning of the fic, up to now, where we suggested the option out of our volution. Also, the much-needed heart-to-heart conversation between Toji and us, and how that really shows a slow maturation in our relationship with him (and everyone else)! Let me know what you think, and see you next chapter!

taglist: @dissociatingdiva @httpsplanetmarsdotcom @nemoyr @huangfairy @shadowarchon @203steph @agentdedf1sh @cloudybabes @lynn-writes-things @illicitwriter @7oji @kikuchimi @chaoticjojofan @musicisme333 @kumocchin @s-guru @mwahilovemylife @hey-gurls69 @cloudsinthecosmos @moon-mumu-moon @kazscara @skilerfrostfairy @funicidals @nico707 @proteovaldez @tsukiyohanayome @marimoares @qirbys @puffaloxx @sakanoshitaa @arizzu @kissditrio @lewd-bunny14 @mistyheart @szired @supsii @yvy1s @tokyometronetwork @downtown-roponggi @the-cosmos-network

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fandomobbsessedb · 2 months

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Alastor x F!Overlord!Reader

AN: this is the result of the first poll I posted, Alastor won so here we are!

I’ve kinda broken this into two bits in this one shot, there’s a warning farther down if you want to keep within the ideas of “headcannon” but farther below I have the start of a story, I got a bit carried away and am too far gone to delete it.

⚠️Warnings: mentions of blood, death, weapons, smoking, maybe 1 instance of cannibalism ( but its more in the sense of revenge rather than a canabalistic reader) (idk man it’s hell if your triggered don’t read 😭) this is really long already so I might just break it up or continue it to make a part 2. I have a LOOOOOOT of references in here to so many things, if you guys can pick up on them leave a comment and I’ll tag list you in my next fic if you want! Or don’t I honestly couldn’t care less it’s just for fun :p

Reader is referred to with afab terms.

Pt2-

================================

• In your life you tried to stay on “the right” path. Your parents raised you right, you tried your hardest to be nice, and where always on your best behavior, but after getting the short end of the stick for too long you kinda… loose it.

• You ended up in hell after a night out partying with some of your most valued clients, when you went to drive yourself home the heel of your stiletto got stuck under the gas pedal, as you tried to pull it out you took your eyes off the road and 💥 BAM 💥 you where hit by a large grocer truck.

•Opening your eyes to a red wasteland, the bright flash of lights and the smell of brimstone flood your senses. Looking down to try and gather your bearings you notice your whole body wasn’t (skn/tn) anymore… it was marble grey?

“Where… where am I?” I mumbled under my breath, trying to gather my surroundings, a bright flashing catches my eyes, a gigantic neon sign in the sky gives me my anwser…

“Welcome to Hell!!!”

“Hell…. I’M DEAD?!!!!” I groaned out through barred teeth and stood to my feet, looking around I saw definite signs, this was Hell alright. A blood red sky, fires everywhere, little sinners running around stabbing and shooting one another.

“ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME, ALL MY WORK, MY SHOPPING EMPIRE, MY CLOSET, MY AWARDS, MY EVERYTHING, RAAAAAAHHH!!!” In my anger I grabbed the nearest sinner and threw them to the ground, putting my foot between their shoulder blades and grabbing their arms.

“You’re gonna tell me right now, what the hell is going on, WHY AM I DEAD AND HERE-” I shouted in their ear, seeing blood come out… oh shit I probably burst their ear drum… oh well, I’ve done that plenty of times to my assistants.

“D-d-do you mean, like in hell, or or just this area?” They questioned nervously. To be fair they were a scrawny little thing…

“What in the-“ I paused to look around, then referred back to this little shit “actually HELL are you talking about?”

“W-w-well, you must, *gulp* you must be new here, huh?” It asked with a weary smile and a weak little laugh, probably trying to ease the tension. “Well, down… down here, we uh, we have overlords who- who rule certain areas, we’re in Ms.Leefolt’s t-t-t-territory right now, I mean, our king Lucifer, Lucifer and Lilith Morningstar rule all of hell…”

“Well, that certainly is… intresting.” I smirk and stand up, releasing his arms but not letting my foot off his back. “So these, overlords… are they appointed by your king, or born into or something?” I question with a sharp red nail in between my teeth, thinking…

“No, no ma’am just, just anyone who’s ballsy enough to, to, take over enough territory and have enough demons- sell them their souls in exchange for something. Umm- if it’s not too much of a bother, could you let me go… I- I can feel my ribs crushing under me…” it started wheezing out and trying to get a hand under its chest to place a barrier between their chest and the ground.

“Hm, well if that’s all true, I can’t let some little thing like you going around gossiping about me.” I growled looking down at this freak… pressing my heel into his spine harder.

“No! No please, I won’t say a thing I promise!! Just let me go, please… pleas-“

SPLAT-

“Whoops, my bad, I slipped.” I reasoned, pulling my now bloody leg out of his torso.

“Ohh, eeeeeew eweweweweweweeew, I’ve got bits of his, ugh, lung on my heels.” Flicking away the bits of organ from my shoes, I take a breath and another look around but this time in a planning sense. Overlords huh, well, I’ll just have to see how much this ‘miss leefolt’ likes the taste of arsenic, I wonder when the last time she had a homemade pie was….

• So of course to establish some dominance in my new living arrangement, I gutted that bitch from the inside out. I took her territory, her power, her souls, even her manor. When I went to her office to kill her I found the deed to her house and all the contracts of sinners who gave her their souls in a pretty shittily hidden safe.

• I mean, I had to work so hard to build my life up just for a stupid grocer to end it all, so this is fine… right?

• The years go by and the world changes, you became one of the most powerful and influential overlords in hell, re-establishing your power once held on earth to a business in hell. Rosie and Velvet quickly becoming your closest friends, Velvet in a more business sense and Rosie being your go to gossip gal. Both of you having elegant and refined tastes. You and Husk became friends over talking shit in a casino one night, and remained friends after his downfall. He talks to you about this, radio demon, from time to time but you haven’t heard much of him

Little do you know he knows almost everything about you~

• Your walking around Cannibal Town one day waiting for Rosie to finish a meeting, watching children run around and little carts selling all kinds of body related snacks.

I lost a bit of my sense of surrounding and almost tripped on a kid running around with his friend throwing a head back and fourth.

"Jerermy! Stop playing with your lunch and apologize to that nice lady you almost ran into."

"Sorry miss, I didn't mean too." He said looking down at the head ashamedly, then offering me a piece of the cheek. "Would you like some of this face? It's really good." He looked up at me with an excited look. "Oh thank you, but I'm waiting for lunch with my friend, I'll go to the butcher and get some though, it looks really good." I smiled my pointy teeth at him, patted his head and motioned him back to his mother, she waved to me and I nodded my head back, thinking it was time for Rosie to be done by now.

"My my, with your reputation of anger issues I would assume you would tear that poor child into bits upon realization." A staticky voice spoke behind me, tilting my head back but not my body as I don't know who it is. I look him up and down, his outfit and cane/staff thingy give off quite the powerful impression. "My, mhm, reputation?" I pester raising my eyebrow.

"Ah-hahahaha, My name's Alastor, its quite a pleasure to finally meet you in person." He introduced reaching for the back of my hand to place a kiss. Him saying his name reminded me, I too finally recognized the name. "Oh, Rosie has told me much about you." The radio demon, his names been brought up many times around cannibal town since he frequented their shops and small town locals.

"Oh yes, Rosie is one of my dearest friends" He replied linking our elbows and started walking towards the shop. "Mine as well, she is quite the darling, so let me ask you now, where you just standing there when I got to the park, or where you going to follow me in silence since I left the emporium~" He didn't stutter in his step but my revelation made the air feel a bit more, weary on his side. Reaching into my hand purse I grabbed my lipstick and hand mirror and paused my walk to apply a touch more. Looking just past my lips in the reflection I saw his eyes in the back corner snap to my down, then back up to my eyes with a tight smile. "Well, are you coming? I know Rosie hates to be kept waiting." I snapped it shut and outreached my elbow waiting for him to link his so that we could start the traverse back to Rosie's.

• After our little group luncheon with Rosie, Alastor and you didn't verbally indicate that you were closer in any sense. But physically you swayed like two tree's. Brushing branches back and fourth with the breeze, restless and apart yet labeled as "together"

• You started doing weekly business deals, him acquiring land and souls for you, and all he asked in returns is he uses that land and those souls as he pleases. Which honestly isn't a lot. When he pulls people or their shadows to come help at the hotel- their mostly your people but he always sends them back to whence they came.

• He likes to pretend he doesn't necessarily care for being around you, however he's always looking for time you two can be together, or even thinking of each other. On his radio show he'll mention new shopping, eating, entertainment locations on your turf. He knows you listen when your able to. Sometimes he uses his power to let his station be the only one playing where ever you are. In the car, in a shopping store, you could be sitting in the bathroom and it would get to the point where you can hear it from the vents. Making you roll your eyes and finish your business so you could get to your office to listen to the radio.

• Truth be told... you where falling to his whims as well. Alastor didn't necessarily have "territory" but many places in one area he had influence in and quite often frequented. When you had rips or damage to your very expensive very delicacy clothing you would walk with him to the seamstress, and afterwards you would often get tea or lunch together. Maybe he knows a good diner or two and ya’ll will sit there and eat, then get a milkshake (mostly bc you wanted one, he just indulges to make you happy though he doesn’t care for the cold sweet taste) and drink it through two straws, awwwwwwwwwwwwe!!

• When either of you knew of prestigious events happening around you invite the other to be your plus one. You go shop together to find outfits for the occasion. You started attending overlord meetings together, with yourself sat on the opposite side of Rosie, sending each other glances and touches under the table whenever Rosie wasn't looking or walked away for a brief moment. At the events you stay close together and often stand away from the crowd, whispering and gossiping together, allowing yourself a to drink silly, little do you know how well he can hold his liquor and often will be the one making sure YOU get home. Sometimes you wake up still dressed, like the gentleman he is, and sometimes you’ll wake up in some red pajama set…. Like the gentleman he is, he’s not gonna let you sleep in an uncomfortable outfit. But he’s respectful about it.

• He often send subliminal messages through your radio to help you fall asleep, to push you to coming to see him, to maybe just stay in your town if he knew something really bad was going on outside. His favorite to do is when your falling asleep he’ll play the calmest songs from his time to comfort you as you drift off.

• When he officially asked to court you he compared you to the beautiful crimson of the sky, saying your cheeks where more bright and delightful to gaze at then the morning sky, when it was particularly bright. All kinds of poetic gestures, sending crows to your windows, sending your gifts of bodies with knives in them, and the knives had small notes left for you on some quote from a book you like. Now how he knows those are your favorite books are beyond you…. you don’t talk about your books much but, maybe he’s seen you reading it at some random point in time? Who knows, not you.

• He’s all in all not a bad partner, of course when you want to go out he usually goes along with what you want to do but if there’s something he refuses to do, his claws are sinking into your arms to keep you from dragging him to do it.

• His smile is genuine around you and you adore when he lets you pet his ears~ he’s not that intimate early on in the relationship but when your just sitting on a couch or watching the sun set from somewhere and you just reach over and pet his ears, he is putty in your hands, physically he keeps his compose fairly well but inside he’s willing to do anything to keep you touching his ears, telling himself he would sell YOU his soul if it meant you wouldn’t stop, petting his ears and helping him groom his antlers, don’t even get me started on the tail… oh wait he’s already got something going on with that… well darn… hopefully you will keep accepting his caring actions rather than push them away.

——-STOP reading here if you don’t want to get into the more “story line” of this idea, if you want more of a story KEEP READING——-

• One night some sinner had gotten into your liquor stash and drank himself ditzy, you chased him into an ally way, looking to end his fucking life. Most of those where gifts from clients that most likely had aphrodisiacs and at the time where trying to get down your pants, but he drank from one of the few special bottles Alastor had gifted you and you went ballistic. You ended up catching him and killing him, and taking a tip from Rosie and ripped some of his limbs off, letting yourself indulge in the taste of warm, liquor filled blood. When you came too you realized you didn't know where you had chased him. Now covered in blood, liquor, rain, mud and whatever mess you stepped in on your way over. Seeing the iluminating lights of the sign for the Hazbin Hotel, your only thought was to try and get to Alastor.

*knock knock knock*

*creeeeeeeeeeeeeeek*

"Oh! Oh my gosh, hi! Come in Come in. " An ecstatic girl ushered you inside, making a towel appear seemingly out of nowhere and helping you dry off. "I'm Charlie, whats your name?"

"Oh, how rude of me" I respond trying to shake off my chills, my nose starts to get a bit runny. "Uhm I'm Y/N, I don't mean to sound intrusive- uh is Alastor here?" I ask hesitantly, not wanting to just barge in but after the night I've had I wasn't in too much of a mood for pleasantries.

"Oh yes! Here, why don't you sit at the bar, have some tea or water or something and I'll run up to his radio tower." She sat me down at a bar stool and walked away. The bartender was turned around already whipping me up something.

"So he's got you wrapped up here huh?" I inquired with a smirk, resting my hands under my chin and trying to keep a little composure. His wings ruffled a little bit before he reached for my favorite hell made brand of brandy, my cotten candy brandy, I'm not one for sweets but I love the zing it gives you. The kind where you loose your vision for a good 7 seconds.

"You haven't usually been one to be a stranger, what gives?" Husk asked turning around handing me my drink and a bowl of pretzels.

"Well when I saw you weren't at your usual gambling tables I didn't think to question it, thought you where maybe getting more chips... ooooor hooking up in the chip room.... ooooor selling even MORE of your soul, if that's even possible, maybe like your wings or your feathers or, like your body as a human shield in the next extermination, never thought you'd be here slinging drinks." I shrugged swirling my drinks around the glass before taking a sip.

Before he could respond he took a bit of a step back and growled really low and deep in his throat.

"Ah yes well he owed me a favor and since I took an investment in this hotel I needed a little work on it done." Alastor came up behind me with a warm towel wrapping it around my shoulders as the one Charlie gave me was wrapped around my waist keeping my legs warm... unfortunatly the sinner got caught at a bad time, I was in the middle of 'me time' before bed and was in my good silk nighty. Glad I walked to my office with my fuzzy robe and ballet slippers. I feel really warm and fuzzy, my heads all….. comfy now… is that static coming from Alast-

"Oh deerest your all wet, would you like to come up and I can help you clean up." He asked you shaking the towel on your shoulders helping you sit up. "Oh yes please" you responded looking at him with sad tired eyes.

-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-

I took a sip of the warm tea Alastor had made me and laid back in the bath, taking it all in. I WAS just planning a quiet evening in at home, maybe snack on some treats I got in the Gluttony ring, watch some hells soap operas. Now I’m here, in my beau’s bathroom, relaxing… maybe I can convince him to let me up to his radio tower to listen to his late night show live, oh that would be fun. I wonder what it looks like up there? I’ve only ever seen his actual town house… a little ways away from town-

*CRASH *

“What the fuck?!” I sat up so fast I almost slipped, sitting on my butt… in the tub…. Shit did he spike my tea?

“Alastor? Is everything okay?” I asked loudly. Standing up carefully keeping three points of contact with the tub and the floor. I reached for a different robe he had given me, a soft red fluffy one, with (what I hope is faux ) fur along the collar and wrists.

Walking towards the bathroom door very carefully I cautiously reached for the shiny silver handle. Telling myself it’s okay but feeling a sense of dread in the pit of my stomach, and the handle was the top of the pit…

“Alastor?” I called out again, once more not getting an answer, bringing my hands to my mouth when I heard a large thump out there, trying to keeping my composure… oh what the hell they know I’m here already. I went to turn the handle what the door got pushed in, had I been able to see what happened I would’ve seen Alastor in his demonic form and it probably would’ve scared the actual shit outta me… but NOPE

I went to open the door when it got pushed open and a bright blue flash covered all of my vision and made me feel… kinda tried… but I’m awake, almost like I’m not in my body… it’s… really hard……. To keep my….. keep my eyes …………………………….………open…….

• You collapsed to the floor slowly breathing, in a trance, feeling some sharper claws pick you up bridal style, if you weren’t so dazed out you would see Alastor frozen in time… like a paused TV… unable to get to you, or subdue your captor. You still had enough conscience to hear a muffled voice talking to a phone~

“Yeah we got her… foil chains worke—“

“Get her ba-“

“…. Longer you take the quicker……….. flasher wears-“

• Last thing you could remember hearing before completing falling out was a radio scramble in your brain, the sound going from a hollow scraggly to a tight scraggle- like turning the tv in between stations………

:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:

AN: WELLLLL WHAT DID YA THINK???? Did you skip to down here or did you read the WHOLE thing. I really hope ya’ll like this, I’m so excited to make part 2, and maybe 3 or 4 depending on how far this goes.

Thank you to anyone who reads this and interacts in any way shape or form!!! Even if it’s just reading :) HOPE YOU HAVE A GOOD DAY AND REMEMBER

REALITY IS AN ILLUSION, THE UNIVERSE IS A HOLOGRAM BUY GOLD BYYYYYYEEEEEE

#headcannons #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin husk #hazbin hotel rosie #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel angst #hazbin hotel oneshots #short story #part 2?

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cissyenthusiast010155 · 26 days

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Take Me Back to Shore ~Broken!Wifey!Larissa Weems xComforting!Wifey!Alcina Dimitrescu(AlrissaAU)

Summary— AU where Larissa and Alcina are wives, in a long distance relationship where Larissa works to run Nevermore in Vermont and Alcina runs Castle Dimitrescu in Eastern Europe. They see each other as much as possible, but the distance starts to really take a toll on Larissa… Luckily, Alcina is there to comfort her wife.

Mommy… Master List

Requests & Prompt-List

Warnings: little angst, happy ending fluff, implied panic attack, anxiety, self-conscious, insecurity, crying, burn out, long distance relationships, comforting, loving wives, happy ending, etc.

Enjoy (;

Larissa sighed deeply as her bright screen strained her eyes to the point of incompetence. With a groan she shut her laptop, looking out her office window, she realized how late it was. The woman felt a pang of guilt as she pulled out her phone and hit the first contact on the screen. The phone dialed. The blonde hadn’t talked to her wife all week and it was Friday.

She had just been so busy, this time of year her workload tripled, the end of the school year coming near, or at least it felt like it. Running a school was not a feat for the weak. Plus, Larissa didn’t want to bug her partner too much, she knew that Alcina led a life of her own, and had her own responsibilities as well. The woman was pulled out of her thoughts by a familiar voice on speaker.

“My love?”

“Darling, Hello…!”

She heard Alcina expel a sigh across the phone.

“It is lovely to hear your voice, Draga Mea. I’ve had the longest day. How was your week?”

Larissa couldn’t help but wonder if she had interrupted the woman while doing something if she was so busy. Her mind nagged her, wondering if Alcina had even thought about her, missed her this past week. The two women only saw each other on the weekends or on breaks, due to the nature of their jobs.

The two of them had met each other while vacationing in Geneva. They had immediately hit it off, spending all of their time together by the end of the week. When the heavenly vacation eventually came to an end, Larissa and Alcina had to part ways, each going back home. But they vowed to keep in contact. Over the years, they chatted over the phone and would visit one another as much as they could. Five years later, they were married. But this long distance was starting to chip away at Larissa. Larissa groaned.

“Long. What about yours? I do hope I’m not interrupting anything…” The blonde breathed out.

“Oh Draga, I am sorry. And nonsense, you never interrupt. I am sure my day was nothing compared to yours. How close are you to being done? Will you be coming home tonight?” Alcina insisted.

That wasn’t true, Larissa interrupted all the time. She had called Alcina five times last week, that’s why she hadn’t called once before today this week. She felt like a burden. Alcina kept such a busy life, running her castle and village, Larissa never wanted to interfere with that. She felt that every call or text she made was a price to pay, a toll taken on her soul. Nevertheless, Alcina insisted that Larissa was a priority. It hadn’t always felt this way. Maybe it had just been a long week…

Spending extended time away from the love of her life never did Larissa any good. It was easy for the blonde to get inside her head and let her thoughts spiral her into a slippery slope of depression and anxiety. Larissa dragged her mind from the depths of the sea back to the shore, back to Alcina. She let out a pitiful sigh.

“Not done, no. Not even close… There is simply too much to do. Might have to stay the weekend to get it all done…” The blonde mumbled, bringing her hands to cover her face in shame of the words coming out of her mouth

“Oh ‘Rissa Mea… Please come home. Work from here if you must. You’ve been all on your own for so long, I can hear it in your voice.” Her raven haired wife cooed lovingly.

Larissa squeezed her head. She felt so conflicted, so overwhelmed. Should she go home? She had heard her wife’s plea for her to return, and part of her believed it. But another part of her mind was screaming at her that she didn’t deserve it, that Alcina was saying these things out of pity. Alcina didn’t want her. She could only stand to spend as little time with her as possible. She was a mere impediment, a nuisance in her wife’s life.

Larissa suddenly smacked herself in the head. She had to get these thoughts out, she couldn’t think properly. It was too overwhelming. She cringed to herself, gnawing at her teeth as she curled into a ball in her chair at her desk in her office. Alone, as always. She had remained quiet for too long. She had given herself away and now it was Alcina’s problem to deal with.

“ ‘Rissa? Draga? My love, please talk to me.” Alcina pleaded, concern and care lacing her entire tone of voice.

Larissa couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think. I’m not wanted. I’m worthless. I’m useless. No one wants me. Her mind broadcasted those phrases over and over again, on a merciless loop. She was hyperventilating, shaking in her chair. Tears began to stream down her face. Her nails clawed at her skin, just wanting to feel something, anything rather than the pain radiating throughout her entire being. She was going to drown, she was being dragged back to the depths of the sea. But Alcina was her anchor.

“Take deep breaths for me, Draga Mea. Deep breaths. Find some peppermint and some water. Let us talk through it.” Alcina calmly instructed her wife.

Larissa nodded shakily, slowly untangling herself and doing as she was told. Once she popped a peppermint in her mouth, had a few sips of water, and did some deep breathing with Alcina, she sat back down with some sniffles. Alcina then proceeded to talk Larissa through it, debunking all of the blonde’s anxious thoughts with loving ease, until the blonde was calm and reassured that she was indeed loved, wanted, and worthy.

“I… I’m sorry” the blonde stammered after a period of silence.

“Nonsense, my love. Now, please come home. This week has obviously affected you more than you know or care to admit, and you have no one to take care of you over there. Come home and be with me.”

Larissa nodded and stifled a little, as a little tear of love escaped her right eye.

“I will, Alci, I promise. Thank you, I love you so much” the blonde breathed out.

“I love you too, Draga Mea. See you soon.” her raven haired wife hummed

All Larissa had to do was reach out; Alcina would always be there for her.

~~~

Alcina Dimitrescu Masterlist

Larissa Weems Masterlist

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mysicklove-main · 9 months

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Uzui Tengen is known for his dramatics. You knew that when you first decided to marry him, and have grown used to it with the years. His flashy appearance and bold words don't even phase you now. That's just who he is and who you came to love.

Until he gets sick. The dramatics pick up to a whole level you've never thought could occur. Of course if other people saw him that we're not you, or his other wives, he would pretend to be fine, grinning and showing off. But he would never let his lovers off the hook like that, it would be not flashy at all.

“I think it's time I say my final goodbye.”

You roll your eyes, placing a damp towel on his forehead. He coughs, and honestly you can't tell if it's fake or not, but you hold out a cup for him to drink a water out of. When he doesn't move, you sigh and press it to his lips, watching with amusement at the way he gulps it down. “Your fever is bound to break soon, maybe if you stopped complaining and rest, you'll feel better.”

He glances at you when you pull the cup away, a small pout on his face. “Hurts so bad, I must be dying. I feel so weak," His voice is horse, and his body is unusually warm.

You can't help but want to dote on him at his words. He's got to be acting just a bit, but he truly does sound broken. But before you could comfort him he says, “Is this how you feel like all the time? This weak?”

You sigh, pinching your brows, but you can't help the smile that creeps on your face. He's so ridiculous, but at least he keeps you on your toes. In his sickly state or not. “Really?”

“Just joking. I know you aren't this weak.” You can see it in his eyes that he wants to boast about his strength again, but your watchful eyes shut it down. You adore how powerful your husband is, but you weren't Suma who fangirls every time he spoke about himself (Of course you did love that side of Suma as well, it was cute seeing her so excited).

You roll your eyes again but smile at him, and adjust the bedsheets, pulling them higher up on his chest. He let's out a throaty complaint, but doesn't fight it. “Hey, where are the others? Can't bare to see me this pathetic?”

“No, “god” of the dramatics.” He frowns at the mock nickname. “You scared the daylights out of Suma, who actually thinks you're going to die. Hinatsura is comforting her outside. And you know Makio, she isn't the one to be near when someone is sick.”

He hums, closing his eyes for the first time in the past hour with a content smile on his face. “So I get you all to myself, huh?”

You grin, puffing up his pillow again before sitting in the chair next to him. “Guess you can say that. Until your fever breaks at least.”

“Nurse Y/N,” He sighs, breathlessly with a grin on his face. His eyes are still shut and by the looks of it he is imagining something lewd.

You shut it down immediately. “No. I'm not a nurse. I'm an assassin.”

He ignores your words. “Why arent you wearing the cute outfit. I'm sickly, please treat me nurse!”

“I'm leaving,” You deadpan, but before you can stand up a hand flies to your wrist. He tilts his head toward you with a small apologetic smile. His cheeks are flushed from the fever and his neck is slightly beaded with sweat.

“Sorry. I'm done, I'm done, promise. Just stay with me? Honestly, I am a little scared about how week I feel." The tone of his voice is solemn, and his hands slightly tremble on your wrist. You grab onto it and set it back down on the bed, and grab the cloth to dab the beads of sweat on his neck.

It's been ages since he has gotten sick. The last time probably in his early teens, so you aren't too surprised he is uncomfortable, but it was surprising for him to admit something like this. “Scared” is not in his vocabulary, or at least he preaches.

So you take pity on him, and smile at him. “Of course, Lord Tengen. Close your eyes and rest, I'll be here when you wake up, promise.”

He glances at you for a final time, and closes his eyes. “Thanks, Nurse Y/N.”

You shake your head slowly, and take in his appearance. Even in his sweaty, weak state he wears his signature smug grin that you've grown to love. You can't be too mad at him.

#another one #i wonder if u guys like when i write drabbles #they r so fun #anyways tags #tengen x reader #uzui x reader #tengen uzui #uzui fluff #tengen fluff #tengen uzui x reader #kny fluff #kny x reader #uzui drabbles #tengen drabbles #x reader #reader insert #kny fanfic #tengen kny #mello.writes

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vulpisnocturna · 7 months

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Bloodstained Rubies - Chapter II - Captivity

Chapter I

Read on AO3

Warnings: captivity, coercion, violence (not against reader), psychological manipulation, Yandere Chrollo

Word count: 6k

Your mouth felt pasty and dry, and your temples were throbbing, head spinning and arms and legs weak, as though numbed by keeping them in one position too long. You didn’t remember going to sleep the night before.

Shit, had you forgotten to set an alarm? Were you late for work?

You opened your eyes, blinking in the dim sunlight. Sunlight...?

Fuck. If there was sunlight, it meant you were definitely late. You stood up, still groggy from sleep, your head spinning, but when you went to pull the duvet up, the bed in front of you looked different. Nothing like yours. You looked around: it was a large bedroom, with a stone fireplace and a rust-coloured loveseat in front of it, a walk-in closet with the sliding door left ajar, a large bay window covered by sage green curtains-

You did a double take. Sitting on an armchair next to the window, a book on his lap, sat a man staring at you.

No, not any man. Chrollo.

You stumbled back, shards of the night before rising to the surface of your mind. He had- broken in, and drugged you, and God, where were you? What had he done to you? You took a step back, your heartbeat deafening in your ears, fingertips trembling, gut-twisting panic taking a hold of you as you looked around, glancing at the door.

You had to get out, had to leave, had to escape-

‘Calm down, darling’ came his unruffled, soft voice, and you stared at him, continuing to walk backwards, keeping your eyes on him. Anything- Anything to hit him with-

‘W-where am I? What did you do to me?’ you stammered, voice shaking as you glanced around you. Lamp. You could hit him with the lamp. Or maybe the vase on the dresser?

‘This is our apartment for the time being, my love’ he said, calmly closing the book he was holding and setting it down on the coffee table next to him, ‘you will notice you are wearing the clothes you were wearing yesterday night, all except your shoes. I did not undress you, nor did I act in any untoward way. Now, please, take a seat’

Darling? My love? Our?

You shuddered. He was completely insane. He had kidnapped you. Kidnapped you and locked you God knew where.

Your chest felt tight, and air was not reaching your lungs. Your legs were weak, and you couldn’t help but flinch when he stood up, calmly walking towards you. He had a weird cross tattoo on his forehead, which you assumed had been covered by the cloth when you had met him. Was he a Satanist?

Your brain was swarmed with visions of him using you for some kind of twisted ritual, strapping you an altar and using a butcher’s knife to carve you open in some gory sacrifice.

‘Stay right there! Don’t take another step!’ you yelled, voice deranged with terror, and Chrollo tilted his head at you as you picked up the cylindrical glass vase and held it like a bat.

‘I understand you must have your misgivings about me, darling-‘ he started, but you didn’t want to hear anything he had to say, any of his perverse pet names and delusions.

‘Shut the fuck up! Not another word’ you shouted, retreating towards the door. A muscle in his jaw twitched, and his eyes darkened, his fingers flexing at his side as he took another few steps towards you.

You bolted to the door, slamming it behind you and running down the corridor, catching sight of what you thought might be the front door next to the living room. You couldn’t hear his footsteps, and you didn’t turn around, pulling on the doorknob. Locked. The keys. Keys. There, in the bowl on the accent table next to you. You grabbed them, fingers shaking as you tried one of the two and frantically turned it, pulling on the handle again. It didn’t open. You tried the other one. Nothing.

You turned around, screaming when you found him staring at you a few feet away. You threw the vase at him, and his hand moved so quickly you barely even saw it, shattering the vase mid-air, making the glass rain next to him. You screamed, flattening yourself against the door, eyes wide and sawed breaths tearing through you.

Glass crunched under his boots, and you went to punch him when he got too close, but he was much faster. Before you knew it, he had picked you up and flung you over his shoulder. You hit his back and flailed around, uncaring if he dropped you, but it was like hitting a wall.

‘If you are set on continuing with this futile behaviour, I will have to restrain you, dearest’ he said calmly, coldly, as he carried you to the bedroom again. You screamed your lungs out, yelping when he tossed you on the bed and climbed over you. You swung blindly, thrashing around, throwing yourself away from him. He dragged you back by your leg, catching your arms and pinning them down above your head with one hand, his other one pinning your leg with such strength that you could not move a muscle. He put his leg over your other one, effectively cutting out all movement.

‘Are you finished?’ he asked, and you started screaming, calling for help, and you saw his lips tighten as he grabbed something from his pocket. His forehead cloth. He stuffed it in your mouth, leaning over to open the drawer of the nightstand. Rope. It was rope. You let out muffled grunts, writhing underneath him, but he tied your wrists to the headboard anyway. He pinned your legs down, taking another rope and tying your ankles to the foot of the bed.

Chrollo let out a sigh, impassively staring at you before he got up and lifted the armchair, setting it down next to the bed and sitting on it.

‘This would not have been necessary if you behaved. I advised you this would be the case, but I can see you want to be a brat. Very well then. One way or another, you will listen to me’ he said, and you stared at him with a mixture of hatred and terror, which he did not seem perturbed by.

‘My full name is Chrollo Lucilfer’ he said, looking at you, resting his elbows on his knees. You stared back, though your eyes were much harsher than his.

Chrollo Lucilfer. Assuming it was his family name was ludicrous. You wouldn’t be surprised if he actually did not even have parents and had just spawned from Satan himself.

‘I am not looking to kill or harm you in any way. In fact, it is quite the opposite. You see, I have nothing but the deepest devotion for you. I first caught a glimpse of you at that library you always used to visit on Saturdays a month ago, and came to realise you were the most captivating woman I had ever met. Your life was truly heart-rending, my love. Stuck in a miserable job undeserving of your talents and intellect, living in a dingy, unsafe neighbourhood, with mindless, mediocre acquaintances and no one to care for you or protect you... I had to intervene. You see, you are so oblivious, darling. This world is a very dangerous one for someone like you; you cannot hope to defend yourself. I had to take you with me, so that I could protect you. I would never be able to live with myself if something happened to you’ he said, his voice sickeningly soft, his big grey eyes making a mockery of fondness.

Something had happened to you. He had happened to you. And what were you going to do? What was there to do? He seemed... too strong. Maybe he wasn’t human, and he actually was Lucifer himself.

‘Now, I understand you may think me unfair for taking you from your life, but let me reassure you: your life with me will far exceed the quality of your previous one. Anything you want- except, of course, to run from me or see past acquaintances, I will give you. Whether it be food, books, paintings, jewellery... ask, and providing it will be my pleasure. You won’t have to live month to month, money will never be an issue for you ever again. Of course, I will also offer you any and all kind of affection and companionship your heart desires. I will take interest in your interests, and it would please me immensely if you did the same with mine. I can appreciate that this is a sudden change and we skipped some steps in our relationship, therefore, I will not force myself on you- unless, of course, you want me to. I can be patient, darling, because when we finally make love, I want it to be unforgettable’ he said, his voice slightly breathy as he uttered the last sentences.

You squirmed, biting hard around the cloth that smelled just like him, hoping your eyes would do the talking for you. Insane. He was crazy if he thought you would ever want him- anywhere near you. You would find a way out. If he thought he could make you into his meek little prisoner, he was sorely mistaken.

‘Do not glare at me like that, my love. It only makes you look more ravishing. Especially in such a compromising position- relax; I will not attempt to take you now. You are far too shaken as of now. Alas, there are also some rules to this new life, because I cannot trust you yet. First of all, do not attempt to run from me. I will find you, and when I do, the results will not be pretty. I will not physically harm you, but your acquaintances... well, I do not have any issues with paying them a visit. Secondly, I will be sleeping in this bed, and so will you. It’s an obvious step in our relationship, and I want to be able to hold you at night. My third rule is that were you to ask anyone for help, they would have to be disposed of. I would not be pleased’ he sighed, and you gulped, looking at him. Was he... a murderer? Would he kill your friends, your family?

‘My occupation will require us to move often, but I will make it as comfortable as possible for you. You don’t have to do anything. And I want to reiterate that I don’t expect you to be my maid. You are my woman, and you don’t have to clean or cook unless you feel like you want to. Of course, I would love it if you cooked a meal for us, but I can care after myself and you. Oh, and one last thing. I think it is quite clear now, but do not attempt to attack me. You won’t be able to injure me, and you will end up in this unfortunate position again. The time I will leave you like this will depend on how displeased I am with your attempt’ he said, running a hand through his hair and getting up.

Your eyes followed him, and you tried to process the delusional rant he’d gone on, but you struggled to think anyone could be so fucked up. He was... obsessed with you? Wanted you to be his girlfriend?

‘Now. It’s been more than twenty-two hours since I visited you at your house. You need to eat. I’m going to make you something quickly’ he said, walking out of the room, leaving you gagged and tied up on the bed.

Crazy. He was completely crazy. What if you had to go to the bathroom? And did he really think you were going to eat anything he gave you?

You were actually surprised to see him come back only ten minutes later holding a plate with a ham and cheese toastie. You eyed it suspiciously as he sat on the armchair and placed it on the nightstand, undoing the bindings on your hands. He removed your gag, and you coughed, wiping your lips and glowering at him.

‘Don’t do anything foolish, darling’ he said, taking the plate and putting it on your lap, staring at you intently as you gingerly took one half in your hands. You glanced at him. Like hell you trusted that.

You put it down, slamming it on the nightstand even though you were starving, not having eaten since lunch on Sunday.

‘It’s a normal sandwich. Eat it’ he said, smiling passively at you. A fake smile. You bristled.

‘Fuck you’ you hissed, but his smile did not waver.

‘Alright. You are suspicious of me, that is fair enough. Mhm. Wait here, darling’ he said, getting up and leaving the room once more.

Yeah, as if.

You went to undo the rope binding your feet, but found that from the neck down, you were completely paralysed. Nothing you did made you move. What had he done? You hadn’t eaten nor drank anything he’d given you. You could move just fine a second ago.

You were starting to panic when he came back and your body started working again, though you still felt weird.

He sat down, holding a knife and a pomegranate. Your brow furrowed, and you stared at him as he placed a bowl on his thigh and started cutting the pomegranate into sections.

‘If you cannot trust me to prepare a meal for you, at least have some fruit. Here, I am showing you the entire process. The knife doesn’t touch the fruit, it cuts into the surface of it. You can eat it with your hands, so you can be sure that you wouldn’t run into any issues. Is that enough for you?’ he asked, cutting the pomegranate into quarters like it was made of butter and splitting it apart with his hands, tapping the knife on the back to make the seeds fall into the bowl. You watched the whole process like a hawk, and he did not put anything on the seeds, nor did he touch them with his knife.

That should mean it was safe, right?

He discarded the shell of the pomegranate on the plate where the sandwich lay untouched, handing you the bowl. You stared at it, and then back at him, but he had already pulled out a book and opened it, flicking through the pages.

You narrowed your eyes, taking up a few seeds and eating them. They tasted so sweet. You wouldn’t tell him that, but pomegranates were one of your favourite fruits. It was one of those things where you liked them a lot, and yet, the hassle of peeling them always persuaded you not to have them.

‘Let me tell you a story, darling. It’s about Nen; I imagine you are not familiar with the term. Every human being possesses aura, but only a few of them can actually use it. I won’t make it complicated, but when aura is released and utilised, it can enhance physical attributes such as strength, speed, endurance, resistance and so on. When one masters Nen, they can develop abilities. There’s all kinds of fascinating abilities, but one must stay within the grounds of one’s own Nen category. Those are Enhancement, Transmutation, Conjuration, Emission, Manipulation and Specialisation. All of those grant different powers, such as Enhancers being able, for example, to make their blows much stronger and Conjurers being able to use objects they craft in their own mind. All of those, except for Specialists’ he said, going on a long-winded explanation that you wanted to not care about, but it was so odd and outlandish that you just had to listen.

Was he talking about superpowers? And that was real? Though it would explain the inhuman speed and strength he had...

You were almost finished with the pomegranate, and you were ashamed to say you wanted more, even though you would not ask.

‘I am a Specialist. That means I do not fit into any of the other categories, and my power is simply not clear-cut. Specialists have wildly diverging abilities, and mine is called Bandit’s Secret. Can you see this book I’m holding?’ he said, holding up the weird handprint book he had in his hands. Now that you thought about it, there was a sort of light around his hand, like a hazy shroud covering it.

‘You can, can’t you? That’s because I just forced you to release your aura, darling. When I went to get that pomegranate, I used one of my Nen abilities to paralyse your body. That triggered the release of your Nen. With Bandit’s Secret, I can steal other people’s Nen abilities and make them mine’ he said, flicking through the book. You stared at him, nonplussed.

So he had asshole superpowers. What a shock.

You couldn’t see what he could possibly mean to achieve by releasing your aura or whatever. You finished your pomegranate and put the bowl down on the nightstand.

‘’I happen to have an ability called Apple of the Gods. I stole it just for you, my dear. Are you familiar with the myth of Hades and Persephone? Legend goes that Hades happened to fall in love with Persephone, Demeter’s daughter and the goddess of spring, and he abducted her, taking her to the Underworld with him. There, Persephone happened to eat one of the pomegranates that grew there, and was thus trapped in Hades’ kingdom because she had eaten the food of the Underworld. She was subsequently allowed to spend six months with her mother, which is when spring and summer would return to the world of the living, and though she had been taken by Hades, with time, she came to love him and find joy in his companionship’ he said, smiling softly at you with those eerie grey eyes. Your terrified gaze lowered to your red stained fingers, to the shell of the pomegranate you had just eaten.

No, he was just being delusional. This was another tale of obsession to justify his actions to himself. It wasn’t real. It wasn’t possible.

‘This ability allows me to form a bond with any individual who willingly eats food I have offered them. With this bond, I can instantly tell where they are, at all times. So long as the target eats the food, and I reveal to them the workings of my ability, the bond will snap in place. Truly, darling, you are my Persephone. We cannot be separated’ he said, giving you that placid smile that made your head spin.

No, no, no.

It wasn’t real. It wasn’t- you would just throw up. Yes, you would vomit it. You jammed two fingers in your throat, pushing.

‘Oh, no you don’t’ you heard, and you were pinned down to the bed again, your hand pried from your mouth and slammed against the mattress. You yelped in pain, and the grip eased ever so slightly, still way too steely for you to even move.

‘Darling, darling... you are such a brat’ he crooned, dipping his head to press his lips on your cheek. You let out a strangled scream, turning your head, squirming underneath him as he kissed your jaw.

‘There. I’ll have to tie you up again, sweetheart. Just for a few hours, hm? And if you keep screaming, I’ll have to make you sleep again. You don’t want that, do you?’ he said softly, tying your wrists to the headboard again and lifting his head. Your eyes filled with tears, and you let out a strangled sob as teardrops trickled down your temples, dampening your hair.

‘Shh, shh, my love. It pains me to have to do this too, but with the way you’re behaving, how can I expect you to stay by my side? You’ll see it’s all worth it soon. I’ll make you so happy’ he shushed you, his thumb wiping your temples, his soft lips pressing again on your cheek, on your forehead.

Two days earlier, you would’ve felt butterflies in your stomach if he did that. Now, all you felt was revulsion, fear and hatred.

He gracefully got up, smiling down at you.

‘I have business to attend to. Be a good girl and wait for me to come back. If you don’t try to get out of those knots, I will untie you when I return’ he said, walking over to the wardrobe and getting another cloth, this time a white one, and wrapping it around his forehead.

He walked away, closing the bedroom door behind him and leaving you to let out your anguish.

Chrollo let out a soft sigh, smiling to himself as he parked the car in front of the house he had visited a mere week earlier. It had taken him an hour and a half to drive there, which meant it was almost midnight now. You didn’t need to know what he was doing. But he had held on to his resentment for long enough, and it need be dealt with.

A dull, mediocre detached house in a suburban neighbourhood equally average greeted him. He made quick work of picking the lock, slipping inside and smiling slightly as he eyed the landing in front of the door. Ahh. How should he do it? Quickly, as to not waste time and go back to his darling straightaway? Or slowly and painfully, as punishment for coveting you?

He walked up the stairs, following the sound of quiet snoring to a small, messy bedroom that smelled stuffy. He grabbed the man’s arm, throwing him into the corridor, where he landed against the wall, the sound of crunching like a symphony to his ears.

Too much strength, Chrollo thought, astounded by how weak civilians were. If he didn’t control his strength, he would die straightaway. After all, judging by his wailing and writhing, he must have broken a few vertebrae.

‘Stop screaming or I will take your tongue’ he said calmly, and the man looked at him, convulsing on the floor, sweat beading his reddened face. He was pleased to see he was cognisant and his legs were in a cast, and even more to see him tremble. He conjured his book, flicking through the pages. Indoor Fish, perhaps? No, not enough pain. Maybe he should have called Feitan.

‘Who... are you?’ the man gurgled, and Chrollo turned to him, still flicking through his book in search of the perfect ability.

‘A week ago, you had lunch with a woman and revealed to her you had wanted her for yourself in the past. You and I both know you still desire her. How could you not? She is truly delightful. However, that woman happens to belong to me. I saw the messages you sent her after that. Telling her you couldn’t help but wish you’d told her sooner. And just this morning, you wrote to her that you missed her, and asked her to go on a date with you. That is unacceptable. Thinking of you coveting her, imagining touching her with your filthy hands... it truly is unbearable. Therefore, I’m afraid I will have to kill you’ he said, going back to his Indoor Fish. After all, it was perfect to truly punish his mind for its filthy thoughts.

‘You’re insane! What- what have you done with her?’ the man stammered, and Chrollo sighed, his fish appearing around him.

‘That is none of your concern. All you need to know is that I can offer her what her heart desires. You, with your weakness and meagre intellect, your lack of insight into her and paltry excuse of affection... you could never be enough for her. I can protect her, cherish her, give her anything. And she is already mine’ he said, and watched as his fish ate part of his hand with impassive interest.

‘What’s happening?’ he screeched, looking at his hand, and Chrollo glanced at him, the corners of his lips tugging upward slightly.

‘Oh, my apologies. You cannot see Nen. There are two fish swarming you now. They are carnivorous creatures who enjoy the taste of human flesh. Whilst they feast on your body, you will not bleed nor will you feel any pain. Though your sanity may not survive the experience, your body will, until they disappear’ he explained, leaning against the doorframe of the bedroom, ‘see? Right about now, I believe one of them is about to take a bite of your calf. Fascinating, is it not?’

‘Please, let me live... I won’t think about her anymore- I won’t, you can have her!’ he started to cry, crawling on the ground. Chrollo lifted his chin, looking down at the maggot in front of him. How you could stand being around such a pitiful creature was beyond him. Perhaps, you had never had better. But you and Chrollo were perfect pieces of a puzzle, completing each other. You had made his heart beat again, given him long-forgotten emotions and breathed life into his soul. Now, he must also devote himself to you and repay the debt whilst keeping you with him. He knew you would help him find himself.

‘So this is the extent of your devotion to her. Pathetic. Is this what you call love?’ he asked, turning him on his stomach with his foot. One of the fish devoured his legs, and he looked at him, sobbing.

‘I don’t- love her... please, spare me... why can’t I feel anything? Where are... my legs?’ he asked dumbly. Chrollo clucked his tongue, already growing bored. He missed you. Perhaps he should cut this short.

‘Are you not listening to me, Hans? I think I have explained in detail what’s happening to you. Tell me, if I told you that the price for your life would be my beloved’s, the woman you claimed to love, would you allow me to kill her for you to live?’ he asked, turning the light on in the bedroom and going over to the nightstand, where a photo of you and Hans smiling was the centrepiece. Chrollo took it out of the frame, ripping Hans out of it and smiling at your smiling face. One day, he knew you’d smile like that for him.

‘Yes! Yes, anything! Kill her, let me live- I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die’ sobbed Hans, and Chrollo sneered, mildly disgusted. He had seen humans curse their own kin under torture, but to think that it would take so little, and without any pain as well...

How could you have ever enjoyed his company? When he had no loyalty whatsoever? He took his phone out, texting Feitan. He should be close by, as he had asked him to be that morning.

‘How distasteful. Truly, Hans, you are making me feel glad I took her from people such as you. Apologies, I am just going to answer a quick call’ he said, answering the phone call.

‘What’s the job, Danchō?’ Feitan’s voice rang in his ear, and Chrollo smiled, twirling the picture of you in his fingers.

‘Hello, Feitan. I have a present for you. How long do you think you can keep someone alive after they have lost their legs and a hand? Oh, and their tongue, though I cauterised that one’ he asked, changing his power to his fire conjuring ability, carefully heating up his Ben’s Knife just as the fish disappeared and Hans started screaming and convulsing, staring at him with wide, terrified eyes. Chrollo pried his jaw open, cutting his tongue with the hot knife and cleaning the blood on his shirt before he ripped the sheets into bandages.

‘If you stop the bleeding, they can last a few hours’ said Feitan on the line, and Chrollo tied the tourniquet around Hans’ thighs and wrist, gagging him for good measure. He’d heard enough out of him anyway.

‘Alright. I’ll send you the address. Be quick’ he said, ending the call and stepping over the puddle of blood on the linoleum to walk into the bathroom and wash his hands.

‘Don’t worry, Hans. My friend should be here in a few minutes. In the meantime, try to stay alive, won’t you?’ he said, closing Bandit’s Secret and letting it disappear.

‘Personally, I am particularly fond of her smile. That she would smile at you, laugh at any tawdry joke that you may come up with... it is quite irritating. I’m sure you don’t understand. Your love for her is a mere façade, is it not? Does it make you feel better about yourself to associate with someone far superior than you are? Though even she must have found you lacking. I’m now quite certain it was only her kindness that allowed her to nurture a friendship with you’ he mused, thinking you must truly be cantankerous by now. Poor girl, he’d left you tied up for hours now. He would be home soon, though. He could not wait to fall asleep next to you.

It took Feitan only ten minutes to arrive, and when he did, Chrollo called to him to come upstairs, where he lifted an eyebrow, looking down at Hans.

‘Who is he?’ he asked, and Chrollo smiled at him, straightening up and starting to descend the stairs.

‘Someone who was in my way. Do what you want with him. Text me when he dies. That’s all’ he said, closing the front door behind him and getting in his car.

When he got home, he was pleased to see you had made no attempts to free yourself, and your eyes were overflowing with rage and only a hint of fear when he walked in, though they were raw and puffy. Ahh, you were filled with so much more fire than your friend was. He was truly undeserving of you.

‘Let me undo these, darling. You must be so sore’ he said, undoing the bindings and cradling you in his arms, kissing the top of your hair, inhaling the sweet, floral scent of it as you thrashed in his hold.

‘There. You’ll behave now, won’t you? Let me make you some food. You must be starving. Please, feel free to use the bathroom whilst I’m in the kitchen. But don’t try to lock yourself in there to hide from me. If you do, I’ll have to take away the lock’ he said, smiling at you. You pressed your pretty lips together, saying nothing as you pushed him away and walked over to the bathroom, slamming the door behind you.

Chrollo sighed, getting up and walking over to the kitchen, opening the fridge and cutting up some vegetables. He was happy to hear the bathroom door open a mere ten minutes after he left you in the bedroom, and you appeared in front of him not long after.

‘Hello, darling. I am making stir fry noodles, I know you like that. Don’t worry, I have no reason to poison them. I’ll even eat some from your plate to prove it. And as far as it concerns the pomegranate earlier, it’s been digested already, so throwing up is useless, and so is refusing this food. If you do refuse it, I will have no choice but to force feed you. Your choice’ he said, watching you seethe with a placid smile. Now that he had taken care of your pathetic friend and was back with you, he was feeling much better.

‘I hate you’ you said hoarsely, and Chrollo pushed the vegetables in the pan, washing the knife and putting it back in the drawer that he locked with Nen.

‘For now’ he replied smoothly, starting to heat up the vegetables and grabbing a packet of egg noodles from the fridge.

‘I’ll always hate you’ you continued, balling up your small, delicate hands into fists as you stood in front of the breakfast bar. Chrollo gave you a sly smirk.

‘We’ll see, dearest’ he said simply, grabbing chopsticks and plates and setting them at the table. He poured you a glass of water from the tap, putting it on the table.

‘Please, sit. It will be ready in a few minutes’ he said, watching as you swallowed and eyed the water greedily, deciding to choose your battles wisely and sit down, avidly gulping down the tall glass of water he had poured you.

Chrollo smiled, filling up a jug with more water and setting it in front of you. You drank again, and he went back to put the noodles in the pan, grabbing some chopsticks and stirring them.

When it was ready, he put a generous amount in your plate, and the rest in his, setting down the pan and sitting down.

‘So, what will it be, darling?’ he asked, watching with great interest as your shoulders hunched and quivered just before you glowered at him.

‘Stop calling me that. I’m not your darling, or any of the sick pet names you’re throwing at me’ you snarled, and Chrollo tilted his head, starting to eat.

‘Well, actually, you are my darling. You are the dearest person to me, my beloved, and my love. Therefore, whether you agree with my usage of them or not, they are true, accurate representations of my feelings. Besides, watching your reaction to them is quite endearing. Your anger is quite sweet, darling’ he drawled, relishing in teasing you, seeing that cute expression on your face when your eyebrows lowered and your mouth twisted into an angry pout.

Getting a reaction out of you was all he wanted, whatever it was. He was a patient man, he could wait for your smiles and soft eyes. For now, he was amused by how much they burnt with rage. It was fascinating to see someone so emotional, so affected by anything he might say or do.

‘Will you eat, or will I have to make you?’ he pressed after a few seconds, and he thought you might break the chopsticks from the tight hold you had on them, but you did start to eat. Satisfied, Chrollo went back to his meal.

‘I’m going to get you some clothes and books tomorrow. For now, you can wear one of the outfits I got from your house. Unless, of course, you don’t want to. I’m not opposed to you wearing nothing. Quite the opposite, actually’ he continued, riling you up, watching you take the bait so, so easily.

‘Fuck you’ you snarled again. It was impressive how quickly you had discarded your fear of him in favour of boldness. It was thrilling to have someone outside of the Spider who wasn’t afraid of him.

‘If you insist, darling’ he taunted with a smirk, letting out a soft laugh at your sneer.

Despite your misgivings, you finished all your food, and Chrollo got up, putting the plates in the dishwasher and going over to you. You immediately got up, putting the table between your bodies.

‘I have left toiletries for you in the bathroom. Let me get you a change of clothes, my love’ he said, walking over to the bedroom and stepping into the closet, retrieving a clean change of clothes from the things he’d taken from your house. Sadly, he had only found one set of pyjamas he liked: it was a black T-shirt and matching black shorts, which would no doubt make your legs look amazing. He could hardly wait.

He handed them to you as you stood near the bedroom door, possibly wanting to avoid losing sight of him. How sweet, he thought.

‘I’m not wearing that’ you hissed, grimacing at the shorts he’d handed you.

‘You prefer just wearing the shirt? Let me take these back, then’ he said, taking the shorts from you, but your eyes widened and you pulled on them, snatching them from his hand, making him chuckle.

‘Just as I thought. Don’t worry, I won’t walk in the bathroom as you change. Your privacy in there is yours, so long as you do not decide to hide there’ he said, and you chewed on your bottom lip, cautiously closing the bathroom door behind you.

He took the opportunity to change and brush his teeth in the main bathroom, going back to the bedroom to see you standing in front of the window. He sighed, his eyes raking down your lovely figure, taking in the length of your legs and thighs. He wanted to run his hands on your soft skin, kiss them, grip them until you whimpered...

Chrollo closed the bedroom door with Nen once again, not wanting you to avoid him any longer. He’d missed you, wanted you for too long to lose any more precious moments. He walked over to you, catching you when you tried dodging him and stepping away.

‘Darling, it’s time for bed now. Remember, I said we’d sleep together. You don’t have to worry, I won’t touch you inappropriately’ he said, lifting you up when you started to try to wrench yourself from him and carrying you over to the bed. He flung the covers away, lying down with you, holding you to him. Your little punches and kicks felt like nothing against him, and he smiled, wrapping his arms around you more tightly, revelling in the warmth and feel of your body even as you yelled and cursed at him.

‘Darling, if you don’t stop yelling, I’ll kiss you’ he said, and you shut up immediately, making him chuckle. Though you continued hitting him.

Chrollo patiently waited until you were done with your futile attempt, and after about fifteen minutes, you were panting, your blows nothing more than taps now.

‘There. I hope it’s out of your system now’ he said, turning you to spoon you. You squirmed weakly, but it did not last long. Soon, exhaustion caught up with you, and you fell asleep.

Chrollo left your side to pull the blanket over the both of you, draping an arm around your waist and kissing your shoulder, stroking your hair gently.

‘Tomorrow will be easier for you, my love. And you will seek out my embrace in no time, I can assure you’ he said softly, closing his eyes and letting himself feel at peace with you. As it was meant to be.

Chapter III

#hunter x hunter #chrollo #chrollo lucilfer #chrollo x reader #yandere chrollo #hxh chrollo #chrollo hunter x hunter #chrollo x y/n #chrollo x you #yandere chrollo x reader #yandere hxh #hxh x reader

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multi-fandom-imagine · 6 months

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Hi! So at the end of Loki how he becomes part of the multiverse tree and everything resets. but what if the reader still remembers Loki so she goes to look for him and try to give him a happy ending.

It's so sad because Loki should have a happy ending and seeing what happens in the finale of the show I would like to see him not end up alone.🥺

A/n: I WILL GIVE LOKI HIS HAPPY ENDING, p.S…Wanda is also alive cause I said so. So yea obviously I changed a lotttt of things.

Side note: was gonna make Sylvie switch places for Loki’s but I didn’t want to be called stupid 😂. But if you want it as an alt end then I’ll write it.

You didn’t understand, you couldn’t understand why people couldn’t remember him. Why? Mobius,Sylvie, not one of them remembered Loki.

You refused to believe this, he couldn’t be gone, you had to do something, you had to fix this. Ignoring Mobius calling out your name, you were determined to find him, you will save Loki and you had to go to the one person that would help, the one person that could help.

Wanda

Your heart hammered as you came upon the home, the same little house you had found for the woman, one reality where she can finally be happy. You just hoped she would remember her love. You hoped that what ever Loki had done hadn’t reset this life.

Taking a deep breath, you made your way to the door. Your hand knocking on the door though relief flooded your body when the woman said your name, her head tilted to the side.

“You remember me?! Oh thank god…Wanda I need your help?”

Wrinkling her nose Wanda stepped side letting you come into her home. “Why wouldn’t I remember….what’s wrong?”

Patting your lips you ran you nervously bit your lip as you started explain everything to your friend. “And now he’s stuck in the Loom and nobody remembers him but us and he’s alone and I can’t.” Shaking your head you grasped the edge of your shirt. “Please Wanda! You’re the only one that can help me.”

Wanda hated seeing you like this, you were one of the kindest people she knew. You were the only one that helped her, the believed in her. Glancing over her shoulder, she nodded her head as she grasped your hand gently. “Of course, let’s just find a place that’s not my front yard.”

Giving one last look at her family she tugged you to her car. While she knew what this would mean, she was grateful for your friendship.

•

Stepping through the portal, you glanced over your shoulder spotting the woman struggling to keep it open. “It’s okay Wanda you can let go.”

Tears sliding down her cheeks, Brooke gave you a weak smile. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too, and thank you.” Turning away from the closing portal you took a deep breath taking a glance at your surroundings. Did he really subject himself to this? It felt so lonely here, so isolated.

You didn’t care if people will forget you, it didn’t matter because you would have Loki, he wouldn’t be alone anymore.

A smile formed on your lips as you spotted the man sitting on a thorn. The once heart broken look on his face was replaced with a look of disbelief, your name spilling from his lips.

“It’s can’t, this must be a cruel joke.” This bad to be some illusion, something is mind made up to push back the loneliness he felt.

Giving him a teasing smile you stepped forward kneeling down in front of him. Your hands grasping his gently. “I’m not very good at jokes but I can assure you that I am very real.”

Clutching your hand tightly he was afraid that if he let go than you’d just vanish. “You must go back you can’t-.”

Placing your hand on his cheek, you let your thumb glide across his skin. “Well, it’s a bit to late for that now.” You then pressed a kiss to the corner of his lips then smiled resting your head against his feeling Loki draw you in close. “So now you’re going to have to put up with me.”

“Thank you.” Loki whispered holding you tight, hr might be stuck protecting all the time lines but at least he wasn’t alone anymore.

At least he had you.

#drabbles #drabble #marvel #marvel x reader #marvel x you #marvel x y/n #loki x reader #loki x you #loki x y/n #marvel mcu #mcu #mcu x reader #mcu x you #mcu x y/n #Loki x

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spectres-fulcrum · 1 year

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I am in love with Brimsley and Reynolds from Queen Charlotte and how their love grapples with the duty and secrets that forces an ocean between Buckingham and Kew and George unknowingly makes Reynolds have to go on the defense against his lover. And this is the way it has to be-

Reynolds swore to protect George and his secrets. That's his duty- to his death.

But he can't tell George his. That his heart pines for someone in Buckingham House as well. Because then the king will feel guilty for breaking another sets of hearts.

And they are close, he and George. He can soothe quite fits with a comforting hand as an anchor.

And he can't even hint to Brimsley that the crown is weak. So he has to throw up walls-make jabs he doesn't mean. To protect. To hurt the queen's household because that is what he must to do protect the king's.

Brimsley had sworn to do the same for the queen. If positions were reversed, he would. But that makes it no easier.

Not when a few nights ago they probably laid together, Brimsley talking excitedly about running a united household together and how easy things would be for them and Reynolds knew-he wasn't moving from Kew. There was to be no joined household.

Could hear the somber wedding march in his mind as he tried to soak in this happiness. Knowing the illusion would be broken soon but he had to play his part to the last.

And if it requires him to break Brimsley's heart, well, he signed up to protect the queen to the last too.

And how their secret meetings aren't stolen moments at night- but at dawn, a reminder that each day dawns with an ocean between the couples. It's such a twist to what dawn normally represents.

I just love Brimsley and Reynolds and Charlotte and George and their royal/professional selves and who they just are and how those eight people exist in their gilded cage of love and secrets and duty.

#brimsley #brimsley x reynolds #reynolds #george iii #queen charlotte a bridgerton story #bridgerton #I am obsessed

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 year

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Drawn Together 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, obsession, intimidation, and other dark elements.

Character: Steve Rogers

Summary: You get a tattoo on an impulse to break your routine, but you walk away with something else as permanent as the ink.

I saw this and had to

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You are not a rebel. You are clean cut. You live within very precise boundaries. Minimizing every part of yourself to evade notice. Rules are not meant to be broken, despite that old cliche.

That is until that day. It's foolish, you know it. That voice in the back of your head repeats your foreboding. You know you can't go back. There isn't a magic eraser for this one.

Shut up.

You're over it. Over yourself. Over your boring life. You've never done one fun thing for just yourself. It's always been what has to be done. What must be done. You're thirty years old and you don't even know if you understand the concept of 'fun'.

You sit on the leather bench. Nervous and shaky as hell. There's still time to change your mind. You can take your deposit and go, with clean untainted skin.

No! You're not going to chicken out this time. You want one memory that doesn't end in you tucking tail and running.

"Do you like the sketch?" Sam, your assigned artist asks.

You glance over at him as he pulls on a pair of black gloves, his gun laid out and sterilised. You peek at the open sketchbook, the drawing of a simple red poppy outlined in black with a thick spiraled green stem. Nothing too big or extravagant, easy to hide. If your mother or father ever saw that, you would be excommunicated.

"I love it," your voice quavers and you clear your throat, "I'm sorry, I'm just a little anxious."

"That's fine. First time, right?"

"Uh, yeah, I don't even have piercings," you give a brittle chuckle, "I'm not really the adventurous type."

"I'm sure you are in your own way," he grins, a look that calms you. "So, we still set on ankle?"

"Um, yeah, I think that's good."

"As good a starting place as any. Glad I talked you off the ribs. Those are tender."

"Just an idea," you breathe, "I don't know much about these things."

"Not to worry, you're in good hands," he winks, "you can just relax," he rolls his stool to the foot of the bench, "and pop your leg up here."

"Right," you gulp down another chest full of air and follow his direction, "that's it?"

"And keep still. Tell me if you need a break. The pains a bit much at times so don't be afraid to speak up."

"Okay, sounds good," you try to settle in but your blood feels thick and your vision speckles with silver. Oh god, you're really going to do this.

"Don't hold your breath," he says, "really, I don't like my canvases passing out."

"Sorry."

"It's okay, you want something to drink before we start?"

"No, I'm good."

"Awesome," he says and grabs his gun, double checking the tip before moving back to your ankle. "Alright, I'll count down so you're not too surprised."

"Thanks," you fold your hands over your stomach as he positions your leg and bends forward.

He counts from three and you focus on not moving at the first stab of pain. Don't be a weak bitch. You grit your teeth and let out your breath as the gun buzzes loudly. The pain keeps a steady sear in your skin but you slowly get used to the sensation.

As he works, your eyes wander along the dark red walls and the artwork hanging all around. Tattoos in colour and black and white. The schematics of a tattoo gun. A falcon crest wrought in brass.

You hear the door open and the smoky voice of the other artist, Nat greets the newcomer you can't see past the pillar. The response is a deep, rocky timbre. You can only imagine the inked up brute behind it.

"Always with the notes," you hear a paper crinkle, "I'm the artist here, Rogers."

"Hey, I'm an artist too," the man counters lightly.

You peek over as the redhead woman appears on the other side of the pillar and guides her client through to her open workspace. An open curtain drapes against the wall at the other end of the shop. She sets down the page and tuts as she looks it over.

The man slides off a pair of dark sunglasses, black lenses with golden frames. He slips them into the pocket of his denim jacket and tugs at the sleeves. Their actions seem to be routine and you can see why. His arms are covered from wrist to shoulder in ink, a few smaller tattoos on his knuckles. Now you really feel out of place.

"Sam, what's up?" The other client calls over as he hangs the denim on the coat rack.

"What's it look like, Steve?" Sam says, his eyes not leaving your ankle.

You take in the interaction silently. You're a stranger among the usuals. The poser getting their taste of artificial danger. Your ankle tweaks and you smother a grunt between your teeth. The noise catches the blue eyes of the man, Steve.

You quickly avert your eyes back to Sam and knot your fingers together. Steve's shadow moves away. The artist at your bench hardly seems bothered but gives a shake of his head.

"You want the curtain?" Natasha asks as she approaches the black drapes.

"Nah, you know I don't care."

Your eyes flick up as the man peels off his tank top. Wow. You blink rapidly and make yourself act normal.

He lowers himself onto the leather seat as Natasha takes out her tools and starts sterilising. You once more force your attention back to Sam's careful work. It's going to take a while.

"You good?" He asks as he glances over, lifting the gun from your skin.

"Great," you murmur in an airy voice.

"Still nervous?"

"No, actually, kinda excited," you try not to speak too loud, overly mindful of the other client in the shop.

"Good," he hunches again and you suck in as he put the needle back to your skin. "So, what do you do? When you're not getting sick tats, that is?"

"Um, I, er, I teach. Music lessons."

"Music, huh? You seem like… the drummer type."

"Piano," you correct him, "I can carry a beat–" you pause to check the pain in your voice, "but I mostly teach piano."

"Classy," he remarks, "so, a poppy, any particular meaning to that?"

"Er, no, uh," you rub your neck nervously but make yourself quit moving, "it's my favourite flower."

"Pretty sombre fave but I get it," he remarks.

"Yeah, I guess…"

Your attention is drawn at the soft slap of skin and the rattle of metal. You look up as Steve retracts his hand and Natasha points at him with a sharp nail, "this is a sterile workspace."

He chuckles at her irritation and shows his palms before he sits back. He rolls his shoulders as he leans casually and twiddle his fingers against his jeans. Once more, your eyes meet and his mouth slants slightly. You gulp and look down again.

"So, any ideas for a second piece?" Sam asks.

"I think I'm gonna stick with one."

"Not gonna get a full bouquet?" He wonders.

"Not yet."

"Better get cozy, Rogers," Natasha says.

You look up as she sprays shaving foam onto his chest.

"You know this is my second home," he teases as he relaxes and she spreads the cream.

"Don't remind me," she grumbles as she takes a razor.

You tear away from your distraction once more. Gosh, it is painful. You don't know how people end up like him. Your tiny little flower will be more than enough for you.

You close your eyes and groan. Sam rests his hand on your calf. He squeezes as he pauses again.

"Need a break."

"No, keep going," you puff out.

You grip the side of the leather bench and bite down. You've always been a big baby. You bat away the gloss of tears threatening to confirm that and take another breath.

The subtle creak of leather pulls your gaze back across the room. Steve leans slightly around to see you past Nat as she shaves one side of his chest. You grimace and hide beneath your lashes.

Why is he looking at you like that? It must be amusing, someone like you in a place like that. Now you know this is definitely a mistake.

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #drabble #dark drabble #dark!drabble #drabble series #mcu #marvel #captain america #sam wilson #natasha romanov #au #tattoo au

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whumpback-wail · 6 months

Text

02 - What’s Real?

Trial by Fire (Wriothesley x Reader) - TW/CW in masterlist

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She could hear the commotion from all the way in her cell. (y/n) stirred from inside the cage she was kept in, too weak to move. Seems like another dream, it's always the same one lately, as if her subconscious still kept the hope alive when her conscious mind gave up a long time ago.

(y/n) cracked her heavy eyelids open, her eyes adjusting to the darkness rather quickly, considering the amount of time she had spent there. She no longer felt cold, her shivering had stopped a long time ago.

Wriothesley and his men would come through the door any moment now, and would pick her up and get her out of there, and she would wake up right as the sunlight hit her skin. She was all too familiar with the dream that had repeatedly occurred, bringing her hopes up only to shatter again when her eyes opened and she was still in the darkness of her cell-

Footsteps.

The door slammed open, making (y/n) flinch, her heart sank when she noticed that the silhouette at the door seemed to have a lab coat on.

Not a dream, get up.

(y/n) could feel herself start to hyperventilate, tears forming. What is he going to do now? She has nothing left, she was declared a failure already and left for dead. Wasn’t the beating last night enough?

No more, please-

The lab coat-clad figure stopped in front of her and nudged her with his foot, sending jolts of pain all over her body. “I’m afraid our time together must come to an end.” Arderne looked down at her and knelt, brushing hair away from her face, making her flinch in disgust.

“I would escape myself and let you go or die alone, whatever, but you know too much, and I'm not risking it.”

(y/n) felt him put his hand over her nose and mouth, squeezing them both shut. Her eyes widened, her air supply was cut off. Hwr body seemed to move on its own, trying to tear his hands away, to claw his face, but she was too weak. It had been so long since they last fed her..

The darkness at the corners of her eyes started closing in and soon everything was black.

“Goodbye 1102” was the last thing she heard.

(y/n) felt like she was drifting through the darkness, the pains and aches in her body numbed by the cold. At least she wasn’t in pain. In moments like these during her captivity were when her mind drifts. Coming back to the memories of her fiancé, the bright happy days felt so far out of reach, almost like a fabricated memory. Pain has been her reality for a while, she didn’t know how much longer she could endure it.

The darkness stretched before her as she continued to sink through its comforts. She could vaguely hear someone talking, a deep voice, slurred and muddled. She didn’t want to wake up, not anymore. If this is it then she wanted to go while it’s peaceful.

Suddenly a sharp pain burst from her chest, startling her. Involuntarily she could feel herself being tugged back to reality, and in her dazed state, she felt herself cough hard.

What’s going on? I can’t do this anymore, it hurts. Please, make it stop-

In her panicked haze, (y/n) almost missed the feeling of arms around her, and a very strong chest.

No… No no no no they sent someone this strong, how am i supposed to take another beating? I can’t-

I can’t.

Please no more.

She tried in vain to push and get away from him, but he held her firmly and effortlessly.

(y/n) felt herself losing consciousness again, her whole body felt like jelly.

Please… Just let me die.

• • •

She was back again in the comfort of the dark.

(y/n) wondered if she’s actually dead now. Perhaps her body couldn’t take it anymore? Eitherway, she no longer felt pain, so that’s a plus.

Her thoughts drift to Wriothesley, as it always does whenever she gets a moment of respite. She remembered the way his canines flash every time he gave her the grin he only reserved for her. How is he? Will I ever see him again?

The regret felt like broken glass was coursing through her veins. (y/n) wished she could cry, but her heart felt numb, as if devoid of emotions.

I want to see him.

I just need to see him one last time.

I need to say my goodbyes and tell him it’s okay to move on.

I need to tell him I love him, and that I'm sorry.

With every thought, she felt the pain intensify, more and more until she felt the familiar tugging, as if her body was pulling her back to the surface of consciousness. And the closer she came to the surface.

It hurts.

Her eyes shot open.

The first thing that greeted her once her eyes focused was the ceiling. The darkness of the room indicated that the lights were off, with the soft light coming from the small crack underneath a door providing minimal light for her to see. Panic rose inside her as her ears picked up the beeping noises coming from her right, it seemed to increase in frequency as her heart started racing faster. A hospital room. Arderne.

What made him decide to take her back? She thought she was labelled a failed subject already?

Trying not to panic, (y/n) winced as she sat up slowly, and looked around the room. She could make out a figure, a mountain of a person, bundled up under blankets. The person seemed fast asleep on the couch at the corner of the room.

She tried to control her breathing, get her heart rate down.

(y/n) knew she would be punished if she woke this person up, and she didn’t want to take another beating, not with this person, they look so big. Memories of her beating flashed behind her eyes.

A flurry of fists.

Hard boots.

In her panic, she did not notice the figure starting to stir.

Wriothesley blinked, and shot up to his feet the moment he noticed her heart monitor going wild.

“(y/n), you’re awake?” he rushed to her side.

But that only seemed to make her panic more, she’s hyperventilating at this point, the heart monitor beeps kept increasing in frequency.

“I-I’m sorry.” (y/n) flinched away from him, “I didn’t mean to wake you, please. I’m sorry.”

“What- (y/n), it’s me, you’re safe now-” he raised his hand to soothe her, but the sudden motion seemed to set her off. She cried out and raised her arm to shield herself. The heart monitor started ringing. Alerting the medical staff outside.

“Please don’t hurt me, I’m sorry, I’m sorry-”

Wriothesley wanted to murder the people who did this.

"(y/n), sshhh, listen to my voice, you're safe now. It's me, Wriothesley. Whatever you think you're seeing is not real-"

Right then the room door opened and medical staff rushed in with a crash cart. With a quick glance around the room assessing the situation, the nurse immediately knew what was going on.

“Sir, I need you to step back. We’ll help.” She said as she and several more nurses went closer to the bed to sedate (y/n).

“I’m sorry!” (y/n) was back in the facility again. The experiment chambers, the injections. The pain

So much pain.

She can’t take that again. Not again.

Nurses held down her arms and legs as (y/n) started to thrash and cry. No more. Please.

Wriothesley could only watch, helpless, as he sank back to the couch. He watched (y/n)’s thrashing slowly stop, and her heart rate going down as her eyes slowly flutter shut. Her mouth kept repeating apologies and pleas to not hurt her.

He couldn’t do anything.

[<<< previous chapter] • [masterlist] • [next chapter >>>]

(˶╥︿╥)ﾉ ……(ó﹏ò｡)

A/N:

And that concludes chapter 2! What do you think of the story so far?

Why do I enjoy the emotional anguish hnghh. I wanna comfort Wrio so bad but seeing him go through all the angst is... satisfying? Its weird. Anw new chapter coming in a week-ish, and you'll see a but more of what (y/n) went through during her captivity.

Until then, I'm trying to focus on finding (art) commission clients, November has been like a dry river. I hope I find clients soon :")

Oh and Arderne is an NPC in Meropide, a doctor, I just uhh… borrowed his character to be the villain (sorry Arderne)

Taglist (I couldn't tag some of you (red colour), how do I solve this?): @almosteggs @quuela @tempest1art @yamanaka13-blog @arseneumbra @kimmeaahh @cottonfluffs @randomidk-123 @applejayee @keigo-hawks-takami-simp @mechanicalbeat1 @aribae14 @bforbiblio

#wriothesley x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact angst #whump #anime whump #whump community #whump writing #wriothesley #wriothesley x reader angst #genshin impact fanfic #wriothesley angst

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prince-kallisto · 6 months

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Crowley: A False Prophet and the Unholy Trinity

HEAR ME OUT, HEAR ME OUT. @overly-niche-twst makes amazing and funny memes, but as you all should know, even the memes aren’t immune from my theories. But the connection of Crowley and the “false prophet” hit me like a train. A false prophet? In a game where the religious symbolism runs rampant? And when digging into research, I was SHOOK at what I learned. I swear this is the worst rabbit hole I’ve ever gone through because of a MEME 😭

In Biblical lore, a prophet is someone who receives a divine message from a supernatural source and must share the message with the rest of humanity. This message is often referred to as a “prophecy.”

I’ve talked about Levan potentially having prophetic powers on here several times, but as a little recap, Lilia seems to hint at Levan’s uncanny foresight. Either he’s just an incredible master strategist, or Levan has powerful magic (perhaps Unique Magic, or just really good at astrology) related to seeing the future. For example, he SOMEHOW knew that Lilia and Malleus would attend NRC 500 years in the future, and taught Lilia and the other Fae a common language with humans in hopes of reuniting the Fae and humans in the future, like at NRC.

What makes me feel certain about this theory is that ravens in Greek mythology were related to Prophecy, because they were believed to be the bird of Apollo, the Greek god of prophecy. And Levan seems to be twisted from Diavolo, Maleficent’s Raven (unconfirmed but seems likely with info so far)

Technically, if the gift of prophecy was Levan’s UNIQUE Magic, it could count as a “supernatural” source, right? And if he taught and guiding the Fae with the information he saw from the future, Levan could technically be considered a prophet.

But what is a false prophet, and why do I believe Crowley is one?

(Disclaimer, I am not religious myself and am using Biblical texts from a purely analytical perspective. If you know better on this topic, want to add something/correct me, please let me know! Sorry for putting so many links here too haha, there’s just too much to talk about in one post!)

A false prophet is someone who falsely claims the gift of prophecy, or is speaking from the supernatural source of evil, typically the Devil. According to Biblical lore, the false prophet will present themselves as benevolent (Crowley “I am so kind” is that you) and weak, but have great power and evil. What I found very interesting was this line from the Bible:

“Beware of false prophets, who come to you in sheep's clothing but inwardly are ravenous wolves.”

I’ve made theories regarding Crowley’s true nature many, many times before. My moots tease me for using this Rook screenshot so many times, but I genuinely believe Rook understands Crowley’s character.

Anyway, the TRUE enemy is one who watches from the periphery with a smile…something that Crowley always does. Always watching, but never seemingly acting. He lets everyone’s guard down by being useless, unreliable, and ridiculous, but he definitely has something up his sleeve. In Biblical lore, the wolf is considered a malevolent predator who feeds on the innocent. Like young and impressionable students, perhaps? I think it’s very interesting that Crowley refers to students as his eggs or chicks, like children that he’s “raising.” But a baby bird is one of the many symbols of innocence, and Yana Toboso herself has cryptically said how the repeated egg theme in TWST is a representation of how “Eggs are a good symbol of things that can never go back to how they were, once they have been broken.”

But what about the False Prophet? Well, I’ve recently made an analysis on how Crowley encourages the Overblots in every single book. As a little recap, he’s the one who suggests the magic duel against Riddle in Book 1, the Hall of Fame to Leona in Book 2, signs a contract with Azul in Book 3, abandons Yuu and also stirs Jamil’s hatred by making Kalim housewarden in Book 4, etc etc. He’s constantly leading these students astray in a very subtle manner. But I think he needs the Overblots to happen so Yuu can save them, so he can get the Overblot Crystals.

Additionally, Lilia mentions how historical narrative have been “twisted” to suit someone’s agenda. And judging from how everyone thinks the Disney Villains were sources of good to look up to, the manipulation from Crowley may be more literal than we think.

And if Crowley is leading these people astray for a greater purpose/higher power, this technically makes him a False Prophet. It goes even deeper when you consider his cryptic words throughout the books, as if he is seeing the future. He knows where the students are when they’re talking about important things, he knows when STYX will break in…and as I mentioned, ravens are connected to the gift of prophecy.

And guess what? The False Prophet, according to Christian lore, is part of the Unholy Trinity. TWST has a slyly repeats the theme of three, and which can noticed in NRC’s logo that may represent the past, present, and future. BUT THATS NOT WHY I WAS FREAKING OUT-

Because what does the Unholy Trinity consist of?

The DRAGON

The ANTICHRIST

And the FALSE PROPHET

In a previous theory examining religious symbolism with Meleanor and the Virgin Mary, I also concluded that Malleus Draconia is a representation of the Antichrist, especially because of the star imagery in TWST. Meleanor even refers to him as an “evil star” that would curse humanity.

But now I’m doubting this- I think I had it all wrong. Not about Meleanor being the Virgin Mary, but about who represents the Antichrist. But let me go over what the implications of the Unholy Trinity means first.

Edit: actually I never claimed Malleus was the antichrist at all in that post LMAO, I confused myself with the different names for Lucifer/Devil/Satan 😭😭😭 so technically I was right all along with claiming that Malleus is Lucifer in that post��🤪🤪🤪 I won’t edit out this mistake to avoid confusion in the reblogs

The Antichrist and the False Prophet are referred to as the “first and second beast,” who obey the DRAGON. But the Antichrist, aka the First Beast/Beast of the Sea, is described as “emerging from the abyss”

MALLEUS’ TITLE IS LITERALLY THE RULER OF THE ABYSS. IM GONNA- BABXBSB

Edit: I’d like to add that the Bible describes this Abyss as an unfathomably deep, dark, and boundless place, often compared to the ocean and chaos. And recently in Book 7, Silver almost succumbed to the darkness…where there was no light, no people, nothing except darkness and blot. That is TWST’s version of the Abyss, and Malleus is the ruler of it! This religious symbolism has to be intentional

I think the Antichrist actually GRIM. A supreme representation of evil thats said that appear at the END OF THE WORLD/APOCALYPSE. And if we recall the prologue, we see Grim in a horrible monster form in a shattered Mirror Chamber. An amalgamation from the Overblot Crystals, which is literally the condensed version of the Overblot, a representation of purely negative emotions.

And based on what text describes the First Beast as, he has “seven heads, appearance of a leopard, feet of a bear, and a mouth of a lion. The dragon gave him his power, his throne, and great authority.”

What’s even more interesting is that there’s an “Angel of the Abyss” known as Abaddon. His description intrigued me, as “king of a plague of locusts resembling horses with crowned human faces, women's hair, lions' teeth, wings, iron breast-plates, and a tail with a scorpion's stinger” Since this character is up to interpretation, some religious scholars say this character is the Antichrist. Again, it’s a wild amalgamation of features that sound like Grim.

The Second Beast/Beast of the Earth, aka the False Prophet, is said to rise from the earth (a metaphor for Hell perhaps) and force the world to worship the antichrist. That’s one of the definitions of the false prophet, as one who seeks to lure humanity astray alongside the Devil. Is this some crazy foreshadowing for what Crowley will do in the future?!

And once again using Biblical texts, this second beast “spoke like a dragon,” referring to his arrogance and connection to the Devil. It reminds me of Levan’s title as Ryūgan Duke Levan,” or 竜眼公レヴァーン , aka “Dragon-Eyed”

Anyway. Back to the Dragon, it’s also referred to as the Serpent. Serpents in biblical lore are incredibly important- but are also very symbolic in TWST. I’ve made an post analyzing the serpents in NRC’s logo before, but as a recap, they’re also one of the symbols of rebirth in TWST. I’d like to add that snakes also considered symbols of Wisdom, which is fitting for “Sages Island.” Some religious scholars also consider the lying serpent in the Garden of Eden to be the “first false prophet.”

But the Ancient Serpent specifically represents the “Devil/Satan/the Dragon.”

The reason why I’m doubting Meleanor being the “Dragon” in this Unholy Trinity is because the Dragon attacks the WOMAN OF THE APOCALYPSE, AKA THE VIRGIN MARY 🏃‍♂️🏃‍♂️🏃‍♂️ IS MY MELEANOR THEORY COMING TRUE?!? ( I’m just being delulu but please humor me)

But what’s even more interesting is that again in Revelations, it’s said an Angel with a “key to the Abyss and a chain” locks up the Ancient Serpent for 1000 years. Hm?? Malleus literally said that everyone would sleep for 1000 years in his Overblot. What’s interesting about the Angel is that he has the key to the ABYSS…is this Angel meant to be Silver?!? Silver, who has a glowing ring protecting him from the darkness, and heavily connected to a magical sword??? So he the Angel with the “key” to the Abyss, aka Malleus?

So if Crowley is the false prophet…there’s a high chance he’s behind the Overblots. And remember: the False Prophet will force the world to worship the Antichrist. Is this to foreshadow how Crowley will make the Twisted Wonderland world fall because of Grim?

So let me recap what I think this means:

The Dragon- Malleus

The Antichrist- Grim

The False Prophet- Crowley

The Angel- Silver

The Virgin Mary- Meleanor

And you know what, let’s just throwing in the idea that Yuu is the Lamb that opens the Seven Seals, which marks the beginning of the apocalypse, and the Seven Angels/Trumpets are the Overblotters, WHY NOT. A theory to elaborate on for another day…perhaps it will be a series connecting the biblical apocalypse to TWST?

🏃‍♂️🏃‍♂️🏃‍♂️ANYWAY IF THE UNHOLY TRINITY THING IS INTENTIONAL IM GONNA SPONTANEOUSLY COMBUST

To Joy, I got really carried away with this theory, apologies if it sounds confusing, I did NOT mean it to go this far 😭😭😭 but I swear, that was a muse moment, your meme made ALL my brain cells connect for once and I feel like I’ve unearthed something important 🫡

Of course, let me just say that these parallels are not perfect (e.g Malleus being the Dragon despite Meleanor being the Virgin Mary) and some of these characters may better fit other Biblical figures better 🫡 But since I’m focusing on the Apocalypse part, I think that is idea is working, and I’d really like to delve deeper into research!

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