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pieroulette · 1 year

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ONE KISS IS ALL IT TAKES

summary: to escape from the miserable and never ending time loop, you are willing to do anything even if it means you would kiss the priest instead of your future husband.

genre: time-loop, modern au, mafia,

pairing: jungwon x fem! reader

warning: cursing, murder and murder attempts, death, poisoning,

word count: 7.3k

a/n: 'kissing the priest' prompt was inspired by a one-chapter manhwa called 'the obsessive second male lead had gone wild'. found it through yt reels 😂 and too bad it's just 1 chapter , haven't read it though so I just thought to make a story inspired by the prompt and add the rest of my own imagination :3

Your eyes fluttered open at the sun peeking through the windows of your room, the refreshing breeze passing through the soft materials of the curtain. Stretching your body, you felt the comforting feeling and so you laid your feet on the carpeted floor, and you looked up to see the maids coming through the open door. Some of them had plenty of white towels on their left arm, some were holding a black box on the palms of their hands and some had the lacy white gown — the one you had chosen for today, for your wedding day.

Upon seeing the material, your lips pulled up in the brightest smile and you couldn’t suppress it as you approached it, tracing your fingers on the gown.

Your chest rose and fell as you glanced outside the window in which plenty of people in maid attires, butlers, chefs, guards, waiters and waitresses — all of them doing their respective tasks. Soon the invited guests would come along with their little childrens, supportive friends, uncles and aunties, friends and relatives who would give their blessing.

"You look so breathtakingly beautiful, Miss (Name)." the young maid's eyes sparkled in amazement as she finished the last touch of your wedding dress, letting it fall to the floor in a graceful way. You nodded with an appreciative smile, spinning around to check on yourself.

Tap, tap, tap. The door swings open revealing the butler with the lazy but firm look on his face, "It's time."

You, a 20 year old young lady whose mother had abandoned you since her childhood, with only your father to look after you despite his alcoholic tendencies sometimes, he still tried his best to be a good father. At school, the petty kids often bully you for being motherless too, a dramatic pity story you can say that. But heck are you gonna let that define you? So you did all you could to climb up to the top with all you had and gain whatever you could to survive in this cruel world, a lady who had just embarked on her journey to start on her career, with the sole purpose to become an independent woman, swaying your pointy gorgeous heels to stray fuckboys away and indulge in your self-made millionaire ass because you wanted it and because you deserve it.

Which makes you wonder what you are doing here? What are you doing on this fat pretty wedding dress on the decorated flowery aisle?

Well, the same old cliche story; you met him, your lover in an unusual way, got stuck in a place together for almost an eternity, and the old sayings allegedly confirming ‘it only take 7 seconds to fall in love’ which actually only applies to your future husband because sweetie that's definitely not you, falling in love recklessly are bound to land you on a steepy slimy pretty cliff if you don't watch your steps. And so you landed a strong punch to his face when he tried to kiss you because who does he think he is? A hot male lead in a rom-com office drama? Oh please.

Well, maybe he does but in a different genre because he belongs in a mafia family which you found out an eternity later after a thousand dates and a thousand punches, and the rest was history — your life seems to be stuck with guns and knives from then on instead of hot independence but well money and exquisite heels still exists either way right?

And of course a hot young man, your one and only future husband, Park Sunghoon. The firstborn of the Park family, one of the wealthiest families in Seoul. However, as wealthy as they are, unlike any other family, they prefer to stay behind the shadows and let people take the spotlight but that was what makes them extremely mysterious and alluring.

But their son was far too different, at least in the way he carries himself around others.

It's far too obvious in how he looks and behaves so there won't be a problem to guess it because he gave it away too much, Sunghoon. Park Sunghoon, the firstborn of the Park Family. He never fails to mention that around people and especially, especially around you. A narcissist as you called him which he doesn’t mind, that goddamn hottie who exudes too much charms and confidence, because he believes that he's far too good for this world. Annoying but hot, and yet you still fell in love with him.

So, it's obvious by now that this wedding was not simple, nor anything you would call ‘normal’ since your future husband is none other than a mafia’s son. The people attending this seemingly simple wedding with grand decorations, are actually mafias and their minions in disguise, well at least some of them.

It no longer matters to you though that he belongs to a dangerous background, he was the only one that ever mattered for you from now on. His family was weirdly delighted over their son picking you, you actually thought you’d have to go through 14 chapters of your story to ever marry him but you were more grateful than ever that it didn’t have to go that far.

What a hassle, let's get over to the story already, folks. Flashbacks done!

You walked down the aisle ready to meet your future husband who was now waiting for you with a big wide smile adorning his face, ah there he was, handsome as ever — and then at the guests at your either side watching you as if you were the most beautiful woman in the entire world. The soft violin music echoing through the air, the pretty decorations surrounding you, the delicious smell of the cuisine waiting to be eaten after the wedding and the sweet fragrance lingering along with it.

It was the greatest feeling, only if it was actually your first time.

Yeah, you heard that right. This wasn't the first time you got married, in fact, it's the 56th time you walked down the aisle and went through the process over and over again. The happiness adorning on your face had fell into an uninterested look as you continued your way down the aisle, since it's nothing new — you could actually compare it to watching a TV show on repeat and the only difference was you're being forced on this fucking time-loop.

And you might wonder, how did this even happen in the first place? Well folks, it might be surprising so keep your lips shut right so a bee won't randomly fly into your pretty mouth.

10 years from now, you will face your death in a way you won't ever rest in peace. Why? Because you'll die at the hands of your beloved husband, Park Sunghoon. Yes you hear that right, your sweet loving husband who set up you to death in the cruellest way possible just so you would be really dead.

How sweet, right?

10 years into your marriage, your beloved husband was no longer the same. His loving touches, sweet words, honey-like smiles, gifts that he often bought for you no matter how simple or cheap it was because for the both of you, it doesn’t matter as long as love was wrapped inside it. He no longer does any of those anymore. At first, on the very first day he seemed distant, you thought he was only tired due to his ‘work’ but how wrong you were when that day wasn’t the last day he would treat you like that.

Somewhere on a typical rainy day in late February, you found him cheating behind your back, yes a shitty man indeed, even the dead would be ashamed to acknowledge him.

Where did it go wrong? You never knew. Did your story actually turn into a pathetic wife waiting to be mercilessly cast away from her husband as soon as his young mistress in her thick makeup and in her loud devilish heels appeared with a grand entrance?

It’s only 10 years, you couldn’t have looked that old for him to fall out of love from you that quick? Tch, even if you look old then it shouldn’t have mattered that much if he really did love you. Fuck. What a joke. Men are all the same, aren’t they?

So your beloved husband had murdered you through all those timelines in the cruelest way possible, all sorts of stuff he could ever think and some of them sometimes includes his shameless mistress. The pain was real, you felt it. When the first time everything resets back to the wedding day, it was only wise that you tried to cancel the wedding but to your dismay, you were forced to walk down the aisle in which you couldn't do anything but let things unfold once again.

Death, all over again. And along with those countless deaths, love for your beloved husband slowly dies along with it as well.

You had lost count to be honest, you've grown tired but you had no choice but to keep going on and try to change something so this time-loop could end for once and for all.

With the sound of your heels echoing along with the slow violin music, you observe everyone around you — the same scenery, yet somehow there's always something little different.

The bridesmaid who was checking her gown, the uncle who has took a shot of glass even before the wedding starts and now his face was flushed red, the couple in the farthest corner of the seat who had an obvious love quarrel — refusing to acknowledge each other until the wedding ends, the aunties from your future husband's side who has now favoured you a lot, relatives from your side who was gasping relentlessly over the lavish and grand decorations of the wedding, the adorable pair of children messing around with flower in the baskets despite how their parents tried everything to stop them and all you can say but don't have the time to, all of them were always there except that for every timeline — they were doing a complete different thing.

You could memorise it all, but it's all useless if none of what you did to escape the time-loop even works. You tried everything from sleeping late so you couldn't attend the wedding, from hitting the maids' head so they couldn't help you with your dress, to actually locking Sunghoon inside the basement — but all of it was deemed useless, since no matter what you do, you always find yourself walking down the aisle with the stupid bouquet in your hands and with everything as normal like you didn't do anything at all, it was as if you were teleported there no matter what you do.

And yet, 'giving up' is nowhere to be seen in your big fat ass dictionary.

Freeze, dance, waltz, screams, cheers, clink clanks, stinky mouth and the annoying violin music that you heard for the nth time — clenching the bouquet in your fists and with a big inhale, you halted your steps, everyone was confused as to why but before they can ask you anything.

You screamed like a maniac.

Everyone stood up on their feet, some with hands on their mouth, some hid behind their partners, some tried to approach you asking what's wrong and yet you thrashed around ruining the bouquet and throwing it on the ground as the flowery petals flew around in multiple directions.

If anything can be used to describe you right now, it would be a certified maniac psychopath future wife.

“H-honey? (Name)!? What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Sunghoon’s face contorts into disbelief as he tries to approach you but you shoved him away in the process.

Well you didn't care, extreme situations require extreme measures and your dignity is the very least thing you could think of since well none of these people would even remember what you did.

Screaming at the top of your lungs, hopping on your bare feet with your pretty shiny heels between your fingers, you prayed loudly inside your heart, "Please work! Just please let this work! I don't give a fuck if I got labeled as a psychopath, I would truly turn into a psychopath if I got stuck in this useless time loop again! Please! Please—"

"The groom and the bride may kiss now." Your eyes shoot open, looking down and up only to see your future son-of-a-bitch husband with his stupid smile after he said his stupid vows as he gave a stupid kiss on your hand.

Your eyebrows knitted together with your eyes uninterested as his lips gently crashed against yours, the same cheers from the guests as they threw flowery petals on the both of you.

And this is where the real deal starts.

The moment you and Sunghoon walk down the aisle, like always, it switches to the very part where you were forced to relive all the moments and memories on repeat. The giant-ass clock hanging on the manor shows 4:12pm, the same time where the 10 years of your life will be on repeat once again.

Cold, wet and dirty.

This time, your husband was nowhere to be seen. Most of the time, your death were often inside the manor and so you being here on a dark empty street in the middle of the woods, it's only safe to assume that the son of a bitch threw you off from his car. Great, now you gotta wait for death to consume you and you wonder what is it this time. Looking down, you noticed yourself wearing a dirty rag cloth with ripped holes on it, your hair frizzy and dry but smells rotten and musty, your skin having wound and rashes on it and somehow you felt a wave of weakness wash over your body.

Bitch, did that bastard just abuse you?

You couldn't have anymore thoughts as your body grew weak as time passed, letting itself devoured by the growing weakness, your head laid itself on the cold ground. Your sight blurred and teary as you looked up to the clear grey sky, foggy and cold.

Why the fuck you gotta be killed everytime? It's honestly tiring at this point.

With that, death consumes you.

—

The same maids. Same day. Same people. Fuck everyone.

The wedding day again, when is this going to ever end? Clenching the material of your gown in your fists, you've tried everything to prevent the wedding from ever happening. You've tried every single fucking thing to not marry him and yet it's still the same thing.

Sunghoon must’ve been God’s favourite. Tch.

Why did the deity even give you the chance to restart your life if you're only bound to go through the same outcome over and over again?

You're really tired, so fucking tired.

You walked down the aisle ready to meet that son of a bitch with that same stupid smile, you took a brief glance toward the guests at your sides with with that same look as if you were a damn goddess because yes hell you are. And the soft violin music echoing through the air, you damned wish at the deities that they could at least change that to a different instrument because it's ripping your ear drums off. The pretty decorations surrounding you, the delicious smell of the cuisine waiting to be eaten, which you never got the chance to eat unfortunately and the sweet fragrance making you wanna puke at this point.

Finally, you halted your steps, standing beside the mafia's son. Sigh. You gotta do something, but what? You've tried almost everything you could think of. Your face falls down as you try to think of something. Think, think. Is that all you got? You didn't work your ass off just to be this damn stupid. Think of something, think.

You hissed when the priest starts to talk nonsense about the stuff you heard over a dozen times already, your brain is about to burst at any moment like for Christ's sake.

"Just shut up!" You immediately covered your mouth with your hand, utterly shocked that you actually voiced it out. Murmurs were heard and you could feel their eyes boring your back, but it's not like you care. They won't even remember anyways.

"Sorry father—" Heh? You tilted your head, are you seeing things?

You blinked twice to get a better view at the priest in front of you, it was weird, something was unusually odd. Something was different from the set of timelines you've been through before.

The priest is different, last time you checked the priest was an old man in his 60s with his head all bald, back slouching and skin saggy, eyes drooping with no life inside it but this one..

This one was younger, his flowy black hair almost covering his eyes, his long eyelashes fluttering as he read through the pages and the faint blush on his cheek along with his tongue briefly licking his sweet red lips.

Your breath hitched as you took in the beauty of this young man in front of you. How could such a beautiful young man turn out to be a priest? This must be a joke, well why you're even surprised, life has utterly been treating you like a joke all this time.

So it won't be such a surprise if 'life' decided to switch the priest and throw a random hot man instead.

You were snapped out of your deep thought when your future husband called out for you with concern on his face, like bitch stop with that. You mumbled a sorry to the priest and everything went back to normal again.

Yea, as if. But why did the priest switched into a young man? Don't tell me the old man regressed into his younger version after so many timelines, bish please—

"Sunghoon, do you take (Name) for your lawful wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?"

Sunghoon's eyes crinkled with smiles, "I do."

You smiled as if you're not going to plunge a knife in my heart, Park Sunghoon-ssi.

The young priest then turns his attention towards you, "(Name), do you take Sunghoon for your lawful husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?

His adorable and innocent boba eyes as he waited for your response and yet, fuck. Now that you observed him more, he definitely looks hot. Shit, what's wrong with you?! You have to find a way to survive, not simp on a hot young priest!

Sunghoon cleared his throat, eyes lingering with concern and worry as he mouthed 'are you okay' to you, you briefly glanced at the guests over your shoulder and their eyes laid on you confused and impatience from Sunghoon's family, and your dad as well.

"(Name), do you take Sunghoon for your lawful husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?

"O-oh, I do. I do." you finally answered, stuttering as you cleared your throat. Yeah, I fucking do wanna leave this place as soon as I can.

The ceremonial wedding ring soon took place, with Sunghoon delighted to put the ring on your finger and you did the same, obviously with the disinterested look on your face.

"The groom and the bride may now kiss." The low and soft tone of the priest behind you was enough to take your attention away from the groom. Now that you thought of it, the kiss was the last thing to seal off the wedding and the next was the fast timeskip to 10 years and so, an idea pops in your head. It might sound crazy but you can't bear to live through the same timeline again, you're willing to take any risk if it meant to save your life.

Sunghoon places his hand on your neck and leans closer as he prepares to kiss you ‘again’, yea sike. You harshly shoved his face away with your hand in which his jaw dropped and eyes wide in response. “(Name)!?’

Pushing away the arms of your husband, you turned around to the direction of the young priest. You observed as his adorable boba eyes widened as you approached him with your hands lifting your gown so you could walk at ease.

One step, two steps.

You halted your steps in front of him, and you gasped as you took in his tall figure and his dark-colored eyes set on you. It might kill you, things might go wrong but you had no choice.

Confused, he asked, “M-miss?”

Without further hesitation, you wrapped your hands on his neck in which he was taken aback, mouthing a simple sentence you doubt he could even hear, I'm sorry father. Pulling him closer to you as you shut your eyes tight, crashing your lips into his.

Gasps and murmurs emit in the air as they watch the scene unfolding in front of them.

You didn't move your lips against his. Heck, it would be awkward. But you tasted how his lips felt so plump and soft against yours, it tasted sweet. You swore your heart is about to burst, and your cheeks burning from the embarrassment of kissing a stranger and even more so, a priest. But you really had no choice but to try another way to escape from this miserable timeline.

"(Name), what the hell do you think you're doing!?" pushing yourself away from the priest whose face was blushing profusely, his boba eyes about to pop out anytime due to the kiss.

Forgive me, lord for kissing him.

"The fuck? What kind of woman are you bringing in to our family, Sunghoon?!"

Sunghoon ruffled through his hair in disappointment as he struggled to accept what he had just seen, but it didn't take long before reality dawned on him.

"(Name)? Just w-what kind of prank is this, honey?"

His pained expression might've done wonders to your heart if you were still in love with him but you were actually way more worried for the young priest now– wait?

This is odd. You thought as you observed everything before you, and then at the giant ass clock hanging on the manor. 4:13pm.

Your jaw dropped, eyes widening in fractions as you can't believe it, it can't be?!

You are free?! You turn to the young priest with your eyes blinking back your tears as you covered your mouth with your hand to suppress your scream of joy, you are really free! The priest, he's your saviour!

The priest’s eyebrows knitted together in immense confusion as to why you were so happy.

You rushed in to the priest's arms, surprising him for the nth time as, engulfing him with your big wide hug as you mumbled a thousand thank yous to him and the entire crowd especially your future husband watching the entire scene unfolding in front of their eyes, with their eyes about to pop and questions running through their mind as to why and what the actual fuck is going on with the bride's head?

"(Name)!" Your future mother-in-law yelled at the top of her lungs, making you flinch in surprise.

Well now that you thought of it, there's no more time-loop which means everyone here is bound to remember that you kissed the priest for your entire life, which you couldn't care any less but, how are you going to actually escape now?

—

The wedding ceremony was cancelled and the guests were sent back to their respective homes through chauffeur since well, this is a wealthy-ass mafia family we got here, folks.

And here you are standing in the center of the huge living room, still in your wedding dress and the young priest miserably forced on his knees by the guards standing on both his sides. The entire family, Sunghoon and even your dad, was also present as they all sat on the couch. It feels like you're in a serious high court right now, and you committed a treason.

You were forced to listen as Sunghoon's parents talked with your dad, disappointment and rage evident on their face as they tried to understand how and why you would do such a shameful deed on your wedding day. There, Sunghoon stood beside the couch where his parents sat, his head hanging low and his bangs covering his eyes.

Shit. Why are you feeling guilty at the man who's bound to betray you and murder you in the future? This is bullshit.

After much discussion, they decided to put the blame on the young priest instead, in which you protested, saying it was your fault but Sunghoon was adamant to save you and told you to stay quiet. “Just please shut it, (Name)!” he whisper-yelled, leaning closer to you, “Do you even know this bastard?”

You shook your head, “No, of course not!”

“The why did you fucking kiss him, like what’s going on with your damn head.” Sunghoon clenched his fist and sways it in annoyance.

Like freak, I kiss him because I don't want to get married at you.

“It was my f-fault! I must’ve have eaten something stupid that’s why I wasn’t aware-” you exclaimed, begging Sunghoon’s parents, “So please, please..”

You turned to look at the young priest whose head was hanging low and then back at Sunghoon’s parents, “Please don’t blame him for it!”

—

Darkness engulfed the entire sky, birds replaced with the cicada's cries, and the busy life of the street had just begun with the crowd going all over with their lives. While yours had finally started after getting rid of the time-loop, the young priest’s life was fated to end today as Sunghoon’s parents had ignored your pleas. Gritting your teeth as you sat in the guest's bedroom, you couldn’t possibly let this happen to him.

"Hey you, the master has ordered us to get rid of the priest." One of the guards standing in front of the cell nodded, opening the lock with the keys in his hand but in his peripheral view, he noticed something odd and so he looked up.

Blood splattered across the cell before he could see who did it, slowly falling onto his knees and the life from his eyes being sucked out. A loud thud. This alerts the rest of the guards and they immediately pulled out their gun.

And there a young man in a white suit, which is none other than the priest, slowly turns around to face the guards with fresh blood leaking down on his disinterested face. Wiping off the blood from his cheek with his sleeve, the dagger in his hand glints with the moonlight. He lazily gazed at the guards and then at the corpse beside him, his chest rose and fell in a breath of sigh — it was as if this was nothing new to him.

Clicking his tongue inside his cheek, he turned his attention back to the alerted guards in their defense form, "Let's just get over it as fast as we can, shall we?"

—

Heels echoing through the dark hallway, the young man walks as if he had no problem in the world, twirling the blood-stained dagger in his fingers. The moonlight from outside the window shines through the edges of his face stained with dry blood, his beautiful dark-colored eyes holding no soul and down to his exquisite white suit that was now painted red.

He halted his step to glance outside the window, the night was still young and it's only safe to assume that people are still awake. But it's no problem for him since he's going to send them to their sweet dreamland either way.

You shuffle around the hall outside your room, biting your nails and clicking your heels on repeat, you are in a serious dilemma as to how can you save the priest for the mistake you did? It's not even close to a mistake, because to save yourself, the price was his death — he's gonna die because of you.

"This won't do." You shook your head, lifting your gown so you can walk faster through the basement, "I have to save him."

A melodic whistle.

You halted your steps when you heard it, looking at the distance to see who it was but the dark hallway with only the lamps glowing on the carpeted floor was all you can see. Even the bright moonlight wasn't helping either, and yet the whistles were only getting closer and closer which made you step backwards in fear.

Is there even a ghost here?!

A silhouette appeared, unravelling a white piece of clothing and as you narrowed your eyes to gain a clearer view on the stranger, your breath hitched when you saw it; the white piece of clothing was none other than a white suit, a priest's attire, to be exact. And the attire was not as dazzling and pure as it used to look before for it has been tainted with red. It can't be?

The moonlight shone over the stranger's face and there you saw him, the young priest. Breath of relief washed over your entire being as you tried to approach him, "Hey– oh my god, are you okay?!"

But something weird, — the sinister aura that emits from the once-innocent looking priest and your blaring instincts stopped you as you halted your steps.

You froze.

Your suspicions were only confirmed when you saw the blood-stained dagger in the confines of his fingers, playfully twirling it as if it was a child's toy and his boba eyes that once caught your heart for a moment, had turned into a lifeless soul. Covering your mouth with your hand as your body shakes in fear, you stuttered, "W-who are you-"

"I'm very pleased to meet you once again, Miss (Name)." He gave you a warm smile which was a complete contrast to the blood leaking down on his cheek, "My name is Jungwon, and I was sent to assassinate you all at once."

The priest. That innocent and adorable young priest that blushes profusely when you kiss him, turned out to be a cold-blooded assassin?.. What the actual fuck is this.

Speechless, you struggled to make out words to say, "W-what?! What did I do?!"

"Nothing in particular, just a mistake you made which I understand wasn't your fault."

"No. No. No.” You raised your hands as if to stop him, “You must be getting your address wrong since I don’t remember where I made a mistake nor a crime! Bitch, I didn’t even kill a fly my entire life!”

"The entire Park family, including yours, must be eliminated before the sun rises. It's part of the contract and therefore I asked for you to comply, I'll make it painless and quick–"

"Oh shut up!" You screamed. This can't be true, you finally escaped from that all that time-loop, finally away from the claws of your murderous husband — all of that just to get murdered by an assassin in the end? "No but why me? Why my family? Kill him instead! We haven't even gotten married yet!"

"You're his wife and therefore you're-"

"I fucking kissed you not him! The wedding was never official!"

"Connection." Jungwon pauses as he cleans the blood from his dagger with the white towel laying on the furniture, "By the looks of it, you seem smart, you should've been well-informed that your life is no longer yours the moment you formed a connection with someone from a dangerous background."

Does he think you’re dumb? Of course you knew. But could they have at least the decency to not kill you on your wedding, especially on the day you finally escaped from the time loop?!

Shit. Shit. You gotta do something. Your eyes darting over to his back and in an instant, you raised your finger pointing behind his back.

"Look! There's a guard!" A pathetic attempt to turn his attention away from you but he didn't budge, only raising his eyebrow in confusion but were quickly replaced with amusement.

"Did you really assume I was that dumb? Are you really that dense?" Jungwon chuckles, shaking his head. "Well I guess it's safe to think so when a while back ago, you chose to kiss not your husband, but a priest."

Silence. Your face flushed red from the embarrassment, you knew it was embarrassing but the fact that he mentions makes it more embarrassing than it should.

Jungwon brushes his finger against his faint red lips, "That's a nice kiss, I have to admit." his words turned to whisper at the end, you frowned but didn't bother to ask. “Too bad, I’ll have to eliminate a pretty lady like you.”

“I don’t know if I can take that as a compliment?!” you panic, feet slowly stepping backwards as he start to close the distance between you. Your survival is your priority at this point.

“Like I said, it was your fault. You are the one who put yourself into the target list.” Jungwon sighed, twirling the dagger between his fingers, then a smile — a genuine one, adorned his face. “But don’t worry, I’ll make sure it doesn’t hurt.”

He sensed your hesitance, you were frozen with too much fear washing over your entire being. He knew that feeling very well, “I’ll give you a chance to run, my lady.”

Eh? Your eyes widened when those words left his mouth.

“In a count of 10 seconds,” He leans against the wall, stroking the dagger on his cheek as he slowly brings himself to look at you, eyes holding something genuine in it that you couldn’t comprehend what it is, “Run, my lady. And I will chase you after that.”

And that’s what you did, you ran for your life. Panting, chasing for breath as you turned to the left side of the hall, trying to search for someone or any of the guards. You could still heard him counting far from another hall, his voice echoing through the darkness — almost giving you chills.

Running for your life on your fat wedding dress, on your heels and through the dark hallways — a lame pathetic, indeed. But it’s not like you could change into another dress right now. You took a brief glance over your shoulder to see if he was there, and there he was chasing after you, you swore your face ran cold and pale, gasping for air as you shook your head in desperation. You can't die here!

A hand tugged your arms forcefully behind, pulling you to his chest but you screamed for your life, “No! No! Bitch, this is not fair, you should have given me 1 minute instead of 10 seconds!!”

You fell on your back after a dramatic attempt to kick his hands away that was tugging on your arms, he then hovered on you, pinning both your wrists on the ground. You observe as his bangs covering his dark iris that was once the adorable boba eyes, sweat leaking down his blood-stained cheek, and then his red sweet lips that you once tasted before-

Shit. Are you seriously simping to how hot this priest-turned-into-an-assassin is when you're at the brink of your death? Get hold on yourself, (Name)!

You tried to thrash around but to no avail, he was stronger and faster, ultimately succeeding in pinning you down with just one hand, leaving you to observe as he pulled his dagger and pointed it to your face. Shaking your head in desperation, tears streaming down your cheeks, you cried out begging him to let you go.

You notice the glint of hesitation in his dark colored eyes, a sense of hope forming in your heart upon seeing it, only for it to be broken with one sentence leaving his mouth, "Forgive me, my lady. It's my job and I have to complete the task given to me."

If only, if only, the time-loop still exists then you would've still survive. It's really pathetic that you faced death either way but you still wanna live, you still want to live. Think! is there a way for the time-loop restart again?

You gasped as he raised his dagger in the air, preparing to plunge it to your heart. At that point, everything moves into a slow motion as your rapid heartbeat echoes through your ear, your chest tight, fists clenching and your wrists aching with his tight grip around it.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make it quick.” Jungwon whispered as he prepared to plunge the dagger to the direction of your heart in full-force.

Heavy and rush footsteps approaching from the distance, "Hurry! The assassin is around here!"

Jungwon snapped his head to the direction where the voice came from, eyes widening in fractions as he's supposed to finish his mission in a silent and quick method, not invite the entire manor to watch like a damn spectator.

This is it. You took advantage of the situation by grabbing the dagger but to your surprise his firm was stronger as he turned his attention back at you, a smirk adorning his lips, "Not so fast, my lady." And with that, he successfully pulled the dagger away from your grip but you immediately took action by pulling your left knee, raising it up and using your entire energy to kick his chest with your heels which resulted in him falling harshly on his bottom and his head hitting the carpeted floor.

You stood up on your feet, panting as you gripped your gown up to give an easy way for your heels, and then you kicked the dagger away from his hand with your heels.

Groaning in pain, Jungwon hissed and spit the blood out. Eyes narrowing in annoyance as it shouldn't have been taking this way too long to kill a random weak girl.

He spitted the blood out, you froze as it caught your attention. Something was off. His blood-stained lips, wait. Wait. Hold on. This guy. His goddamn pretty face and his.. red lips, the same sweet taste. The wedding. Why did the time-loop disappear in the first place? It's because of the kiss! Yes, it was! But was it because of him? You had no idea. But if you do it again, would everything return back to the wedding ceremony?

But that would mean, that I'll have to kiss him again?!

"There he is!" The guard alerted the rest of his team, and one of them came Sunghoon whose face ran cold and dry as he saw the entire scene unfolding in front of him.

"(Name)!"

Shit. What's he doing here? But who fucking cares.

You immediately pulled Jungwon who was trying to grab the dagger again, to your chest and to his surprise, your face was inches away from him. Rapid heartbeat echoed through your ear as you inspected his dark-colored eyes, those freaking boba eyes and that eyelashes fluttering as he blinked in confusion. Both of you gulped at the intimate proximity, but you ignored it as you clenched his collar in your fists, he tilted his head, “Are you planning to kiss me again in front of your husband?”

Silence ensues between you both as chaos was approaching fast.

“No, I already told you, he’s not my husband.” You spat out, “And yes, mind me stealing one more kiss?”

Before Jungwon could react, you pulled him closer and crashed your lips into his. His eyes widening for the nth time while yours were shut tight, the same sweet taste from his lips mixing with yours once again. Breathing heavily as your lips were pressed together, and at that point you could feel the thud of his heartbeat.

—

Your eyes fluttered open at the sun peeking through the windows of your room, the refreshing breeze passing through the soft materials of the curtain. Wait?!

You immediately sat up, inspecting yourself if you had any injuries and to your relief, there was none. Did it actually work? You hurried to the window and looked around and saw that everything was repeating again just like a time-loop. So the kiss did work. Just who the hell is that guy? An assassin yes, but why the fuck a kiss can return the time-loop?! It might’ve just been luck. A luck that occurs twice.

Now there’s no way he would exist in this timeline for there must be something different, which means the priest has probably turned into an old man like it did before. But what’s that lingering disappointment in you? You should be happy, that freaking killer doesn’t exist now, he’s so much more dangerous than the time-loop itself.

Ruffling your hand through your hair, you sat back on the bed. A surge of happiness washed over you but a part of it was disappointment because that would mean you would have to repeat everything all over again.

Tap, tap, tap.

You don't even need to acknowledge the maids or the butler anymore, it was a routine at this point. But you can't give up, you've survive all those death up to this point so you can never give up. If you actually had the chance to overthrow the time loop before then you can do it again. Don't give up.

The entire scene on repeat for the 58th time as you walked down the aisle with your head hanging low, observing the bouquet with violet flowers in your hand and for once through all that timelines, you trace you finger over it and find it gorgeous. You knitted your eyebrows in confusion as the bouquet consists of white flowers before but you quickly ignored it as it's just a damn flowers, not that it matters anyway.

Finally halting your steps in front of your stupid future husband once again, you couldn't be bothered to look at his stupid smile because you fear you're going to punch this bouquet at his face. You didn't fail to notice his suit has changed into a white one, narrowing your eyes at the fact that the time-loop shitty thing manage to change everything but not your death.

Why did they even switch the priest to a younger one in the first place? Speaking of the devil, that goddamn pretty face.

That cat boy. You remembered him, those adorable boba eyes that turned into a sinister look when he revealed his true self, his lush black hair covering almost his eyes and especially, his sweet red lips. You wonder where is he now– you must be a certified psychopath already since you are looking for an assassin who tried to murder you in the previous timeline. What a joke.

The priest went all over the wedding stuff again, and you frown as to why the voice sounds familiar and yet you ignore it, not really bothering at this point. Sigh.

"Jungwon, do you take (Name) for your lawful wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?"

Wait. What? You whipped your head at the priest and your jaw dropped with your eyes about to popped out, what the actual fuck is Sunghoon doing over there as a priest?! If he is there, then? Then?!

Turning your eyes to the groom, your future husband; those same hair, eyes, nose and lips. Innocence adorning his face with his eyes brimming with fondness as he looks at you, the same sweet red lips tugging up in a pretty smile.

What in the fucking time-loop is this?!

Wait. Does he remember? If Jungwon is the groom then he.. then he's the mafia's son now? Are you kidding me? The assassin sent to assassinate the entire Park family and especially you has now become their son?!

You're marrying the person who tried to assassinate you. Fuck-

Then as if something pulls him back into reality, his eyes brimming with fondness were replaced with confusion, “W-what?” Jungwon’s eyebrows were knitted in immense confusion as he looked at himself, raising his hands, turning it back and forth. And then back at you, who has the exact expression as him.

Silence.

“Why the fuck am I marrying you!?”

-> secondary blog: @llyzblog

#enha #enha imagines #enhypen #enhypen x reader #enha x reader #enhypen oneshots #enhypen scenarios #enha fanfic #yang jungwon

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ladykailitha · 1 year

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Can Anybody See Me? Part 17

Fuck, guys, I don’t even know what this story is even doing at this point. I’m on part 18 and it does NOT want to wrap up. Like at all. It wants to go on forever and I don’t know how to stop it. It MIGHT be 20 parts. It might be 50 at this point. Who the hell knows? Not this poor belabored author that’s for sure.

Anyway...so this part is a little on the sad side. We get more of Eddie’s backstory. And a little bit of bitchy Steve to lighten it up at the end.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16

It wasn’t until Steve was getting ready for school the next morning that he found he had left the comic at Eddie’s.

He was throwing homework in his bag when he realized it felt lighter than it should.

He unpacked it slowly and set everything out on his bed. He stood there looking at his stuff, hands on his hips for a moment before it dawned on him.

Shit.

The comic book. After he had finished all the pages he had painstakingly put them together in comic book form. He even designed the cover. Then took them to copying store and got it bound like a real comic book.

The kid at the shop was impressed with how well the pages were mapped out.

But it wasn’t in his stuff he had pulled from his bag. Which meant one thing. Eddie had it.

It was fine. No need to panic. He had written for Eddie. He was meant to read it.

So why was he freaking out?

Oh, only because Steve didn’t want him to read it until after the school play. Hell Steve’s nerves were already shot with the three additional performances Steve wasn’t planning on having to do. But adding Eddie knowing about the Upside Down? It made him vaguely ill.

Fuck what if he did throw up from nerves? He’d never done it before, but then again, he’d never performed in front other people before either. He was a literal mess.

He packed away all his things carefully and prayed to whatever supreme being that was out there for a merciful death on his way to school.

Eddie had stayed up the whole night reading Steve’s comic. Personally, he thought that the story was good, the characters were interesting and the monsters were frightening enough.

It wasn’t until he got the final page of the comic where Steve’s afterword was.

Unlike the rest of it where it was professionally done, the last page had a carefully glued on piece of paper. So this was clearly something that Steve didn’t want other people to see.

And Eddie would have respected that if it hadn’t been addressed to him directly.

“Eddie-

So there you have it. The start of my trauma. And yes this is only the start. The real story began with a missing boy and a cover up so large it frightens me. But that was never my story to tell. This is my story. This is where it truly began for me.

Well. That’s not quite true. It started with a girl and a swimming pool. A tragedy that should have been mine. But that night I was so intent on getting laid that I let it happen. Barb deserved better than me. She should have lived and I died.

I don’t know why I lived. Maybe it was because I was needed to protect those closest to me. That’s all I thought I was good for. Dying in a blaze of glory protecting those I hold most dear. And then I met you.

God, Eddie, you make me want to live. For the first time in my miserable existence I found people who like me for me. And not just because I was needed. To protect. To defend. To die. For them.

And then you came along and protected me. Defended me. I don’t think anyone has ever done that for me before.

Just do me one favor. Peel out this insert. Throw it away. Burn it. I don’t care. Just as long as you are the only one that sees it. I don’t want you in danger. But I needed you know this side of me.

The boy with the bat. The boy who never knew what love really was until he met you.

-Love Steve”

Eddie choked back tears and place a hand to his trembling lips. If Steve had really gone through all that. If even a fraction of it was true. Even if none of it was. That was still the most beautiful love letter he had ever seen. And it was addressed to him.

Shit.

Tears rolled down his face as he read the letter again and again. After the seventh or eighth read he finally did what Steve requested and peeled the letter out of the last page of the comic. He folded it carefully and crawled under his bed.

Buried underneath of the mess was a simple black lockbox. He set it gently on his bed and then went to his dresser. He slid out the bottom drawer and jiggled the bottom until a small key fell out onto the floor.

He picked the key up and sat on his bed. He unlocked the box and placed the key between his lips for safe keeping.

Inside the box were all the things Eddie didn’t want other people to see. The couple of birthday cards his dad had sent him from prison. His mom’s suicide note.

Not even Wayne had seen that one. No one knew but Eddie that she had taken her own life. He had seen her life insurance policy and knew it wouldn’t pay out if they thought it was intentional. So accidental overdose was what was on her death certificate.

Eddie had been her sole beneficiary and it was placed in trust until he turned twenty-one. He was going to use it fund the band and get the hell out of Hawkins. He just had to make that far.

The paperwork for the trust was in there too. Wayne had offered to hold on to it for him but at the time Eddie didn’t trust anyone and giving that up felt like too much.

His birth certificate was in here too. Well a copy of it anyway. Wayne had the original, but Eddie liked knowing he had a copy too. In case he needed to get away fast.

Also in here was a portion of the money he had made from dealing drugs. He told Reefer Rick, no meth and no cocaine. Mainly weed and mushrooms, with a small smattering of the harder drugs. He had set aside ten percent of his earnings as an emergency fund. In case he needed it.

The last thing that was in there was a picture of his mom. She’s sitting on the swings next to Eddie and smiling into the camera as Eddie laughs gleefully. Just out of frame was his dad who had been pushing him on the swing. It was the last moment of happiness Eddie had before Lawrence Munson got into selling and doing drugs. Had got his wife, Edie addicted. Before Larry had got himself arrested in Texas and Eddie was sent to go live with Wayne.

He placed the love letter on top and closed the box. He locked it back up and set everything to rights. He looked at the alarm clock and groaned when the bright red numbers glared back him. It was 4:57am.

Fuck.

Eddie was supposed to be up in an hour for school. Yeah. That wasn’t happening today. He flopped on the bed and threw his arms out. He thought about the comic and what was inside it. He remembered Steve telling him that he had changed it so unless you were there that day you wouldn’t recognize the events. But even with that it felt...well, it felt like he was being let in on secret if he was honest. A big one.

He looked over at the clock again and it was almost six. He sighed and got up. He grabbed the stuff he needed for his shower and ducked into the bathroom. The last thing he needed this morning was Wayne seeing him still in the clothes he wore the night before.

He showered quickly and got out before Wayne had even turned on the coffee pot. He was dressed and ready for school before the pot had finished brewing.

Wayne handed him a cup of coffee and raised an eyebrow at him.

“What do you want, old man?” Eddie groused. He wasn’t in the mood for small talk considering he was running on fumes.

“You were up all night reading that comic, weren’t you?” Wayne said and took a long sip of his coffee.

Eddie sighed. He should have known better than to think that Wayne wouldn’t catch him at it. After all this was the man who had been catching him reading books at three o’clock in the morning since he was twelve.

“It’s Steve’s.”

“I didn’t know he read comic books,” Wayne said almost an echo of what he said the night before.

“As in he wrote and drew it,” Eddie clarified.

Wayne’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s a pretty talented boy you got there, Eddie.”

Eddie blushed. “I know. This was the story he was originally going to tell for his art class. Seniors in ART 4 had to do an eight page comic book for their winter finale. Steve started doing this one, but the teacher flipped out and threatened to call his parents because it was ‘too scary’ or some other dumb shit.”

“So he completed it anyway and turned in something else?” Wayne supposed.

Eddie nodded. “He told me he was going to finish it so that I could read it.”

Wayne hummed. “Do you think he left it here on purpose? So that you would read it without having to physically hand it to you?”

Eddie tilted his head and looked up thoughtfully. He shook his head. “I don’t think so. I think Steve would have wanted to explain it to me.” He hung his head. “I shouldn’t have read it without that permission, but you know me.”

“I don’t think I would have been able to resist reading something that was meant for me either,” Wayne said, nodding.

Eddie drank the rest of his coffee and kissed his uncle on the cheek. “I’ll see you after school.”

“Bring that boy yours with you,” Wayne said. “I’m making my lasagna tonight, and I want him over for dinner.”

Eddie grinned. “You got it, old man.”

He was out the door and driving off before Wayne could even shake his head. Wayne loved that boy and if he was really lucky he would get another sweet boy out of this deal.

Steve was standing nervously at the door to the math hall because it was closest to the parking lot, chewing on his thumb nail. He knew he shouldn’t chew on his nails, but his nerves were shot to hell.

But the bell rang and there was still no sign of Eddie. So after a moment or so of indecision Steve gave up and went to class.

He spent this first class of the day fidgeting with his pencil, tapping against whatever surface was in reach. The desk, his book, his lips, his hand.

Finally the teacher had enough.

“Mr Harrington!” she barked.

Steve looked up at her in shock. “Yes, Miss Davis?”

“Do you have some hot date tonight that you’re nervous about or something?” she asked, folding her arms over her chest as she stared him down.

Steve looked at her blankly.

“Your pencil, Mr Harrington,” she explained tersely.

He looked down at the pencil. “No, Miss Davis. I didn’t even realize I was doing it. I’ll stop.”

Miss Davis pursed her lips. “See that you do.”

Steve tried finding less obvious ways to work through his nerves and then it hit him. He pulled out his drawing pad and began to doodle.

“Mr Harrington,” Miss Davis called out again some time later. “Would you please pay attention in my class?”

Steve blinked up at her. “You were talking about the Spanish forced colonization of South America, weren’t you?”

A couple of the kids in the class giggled.

Miss Davis turned red from the embarrassment. “Carry on.”

Steve gave her his lop-sided goofy grin.

Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21

Tag List: @shrimply-a-menace @strangersteddierthings @throwbackthrowaway @novelnovella @cursedfoxteeth @babyblender @garden-of-gay @anaibis @lifeisnotsobadonceyoustopcaring @swimmingbirdrunningrock @steve-the-hairrington @winterbuckwild @spectrum-spectre @matchingbatbites @thing-a-ling @fandemonium-takes-its-toll @artiststarme @sundead @nelotegreitic @gregre369 @butterflysandpeppermint @thedragonsaunt @kodaik97 @messrs-weasley @scarletzgo @deadlydodos @renaissan-vvitch @evix-syne666 @emly03 @justforthedead89 @ashwinmeird @huniibee @phantypurple @stevesbipanic @shucks-yuckyuck @lovelyscot @awkwardgravity1 @bookbinderbitch @reportinglivefromsoda @jinxjinn @chasinggeese @be-the-spark-bitch @kohlraedirectioner @cr0w-culture @xjessicafaithx @whimsicalwitchm @jaywhohasthegay @estrellami-1 @dangdirtydemons @howincrediblysapphicofyou @the-redthread

#My writing #stranger things #steddie #canon divergence #the boy with the bat #ladykailtiha writes

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mythicalartistx · 5 months

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Riku isn't initially to blame for Xion and Roxas' deaths

I've seen people blame him for the deaths of these two to point they even hate him but they don't take some things into account.

And I see the opposite where people say Oh it's okay because Sora is important and must come back, but that's not it either.

They don't take into account the state of mind that Riku is in.

Imagine this, you are not doing well mentally. All the events of KH1 happened, Riku hates himself and feels miserable. His best friend is sleeping to get his memories back and he's at his lowest point. He faced off with his darkness and has accepted that part of himself.

Riku has the knowledge that something has prevented Naminé from restoring Sora's memories completely. His own nobody and a replica to copy and absorb the nobody's abilities.

Riku studies them and watches what they do. He finds out the only way to bring Sora back is for Xion to go back into Sora. This is a tragic fate. He fights with Xion, he isn't doing well because of his best friend sleeping. He says things, I am the biggest nobody of them all; meaning he doesn't believe in himself, he doesn't like himself, and is just at a very low point.

Then DiZ or Ansem comes into the picture. He's a bad person. He doesn't care about nobodies. He thinks they all are bad people who can't feel. They shouldn't exist as he puts it. And it's just awful. He stated to Roxas that a nobody doesn't have a right to know. He believes they have no rights, no feelings, nor even human. He has a grudge against them.

And DiZ influences Riku. Riku isn't doing well and he tells him the ONLY way is for Roxas and Xion to go back to Sora and initially die. Riku and him made an alliance to help each other until Sora wakes up. So he keeps going to Xion but he doesn't kill her.

He doesn't tell her it's better if she's gone. He tells her what would happen. Riku gives her the option, come with me and I'll show you Sora and you can go back into him. He tells her she can stay with her friends and see where she really belongs and if it's right.

Riku sympathizes with her wanting to be with her friends as they need her.

Xion even asks him if he's mad she took his friend away. Riku tells her he's not mad at her but sad. And this shows he doesn't blame Xion or Roxas. He just misses his friend and relates to how Xion views her friends.

They keep running into each other and they talk. After Xion goes back she realizes her being there isn't right because it endangers Roxas. She realizes the Organization goal is not what she wants and that they using her and Roxas to kill the other.

And then when she and Roxas fight, she goes back into Sora when she dies.

Then Ansem/DiZ tells Riku he must kill Roxas too and fight him so believing it's the ONLY thing that can be done. Riku believes him. It's been almost a year since Sora was last awake, and he fights him.

However Riku didn't know Roxas wanted to meet Sora. He didn't know he was willing to go and could probably help him awaken without having to die.

The first fight he fails and hurts his wrist, the second fight he gives into the darkness because it's the only way he believes can awaken Sora.

In the intro of Kh2 DiZ speaks harshly of nobodies like Naminé and Axel. And asks Riku to destroy them as well. But Sora soons awakens and he decides not to. Riku feels compassion and remorse for the nobodies.

Riku being Riku someone who has found he can use darkness for good questions the words of DiZ. He sees that they deserve humanity and sympathizes with them. He doesn't think they should just get hurt for no reason.

In the novels, he expressed how he feels bad and wonders if there would have been a way to save Sora without Roxas (and Xion but he doesn't remember her 😢💔) dying.

Naminé Axel and Riku ends up working together to do things. And they express themselves questioning if they truly do have feelings and hearts or not.

And if anyone blame DiZ

But the point here is made, Riku feels bad for them and expresses guilt after he does that. His mind wasn't in the right place and was given advice by DiZ a scientist dude who done experiments on CHILDREN to study the heart. They did things to Experiment χ. Riku only believed it was the ONLY way and that's why he did it.

Riku did it, but within reason he felt remorse for them and is shown to feel more compassion and guilt towards nobodies.

Even Sora was being a bit.... Judgmental towards them but that's due to Yen Sid 's influence as well— which is then changed through the end where he realizes they do care, have hearts, and seem to feel things. And in KH3, the organization deaths in that game he takes more seriously. He feels more for them.

The novels and manga show great details for these moments and Riku even calls Axel and Naminé his friends. Riku Axel and Naminé is a trio that I absolutely love.

But he still questions DiZ words if there could have been other alternative ways to awaken Sora and doesn't see that it's wrong they exist.

And because of all of this, no Riku isn't really to blame. He did do it, but there's meaning behind it. Riku let them have a choice and even afterwards he questions was it right and could there have been an alternate way. In general It's just bad circumstances and in all honesty DiZ is the one who kept saying how they shouldn't exist or feel anything.

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vtoriacore · 2 years

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✧ a deity without mercy

tw: religion (many references to christianity), mentions of death + torture

note: i’m late to the imposter sagau but i felt the need to write something angry and this came out lol, i hope it doesn’t completely flop 💀 i read too many fics where the reader ends up sad but i want them to fuck shit up and put a few people in their place so, here!

synopsis: as the creator, facing all injustice possible upon entering the realm of teyvat, you have had enough. the mercy they didn’t spare you was not going to be their saving grace; vengeance and retribution will be yours for their collective transgressions against the divine.

Three months. It had been three months since you entered the world of Teyvat. And not for a single day, not for a single hour, not for a single still moment had anyone offered you your well deserved salvation. No, your salvation would only come under one condition; no longer existing within this realm. But your thoughts strayed far from a peaceful exit; would this world fall apart in all its complexity with you? Would all those who wronged you feel the overwhelming guilt and despair pooling at their feet, ready to drown in the sea of false allegations and inhumane accusations they directed at you?

Would they feel the crushing realisation their oh so merciful god, one they had so cruelly treated, tried to exile, execute, exterminate- was the one responsible for the destruction of this once beautiful land, bathing it in rivers of crimson from the very civilians who didn't do it justice? Didn't do you justice?

Countless times had you thought about your own demise and about how it would manifest. Perhaps Childe would finally hunt you down without further prolonging this repetitive game of cat and mouse. Or maybe the Vigilant Yaksha, conqueror of demons and evidently gods alike, would once and for all finish his brutal endeavours with one final blow, each previous leaving you with a horrendous scar and a memory to match. Maybe even the mighty Raiden Shogun of Inzauma herself would strike twice. And yet here you sit, unable to feel anything but a shallow need for comfort, one that would extinguish that miserably dancing flame within you.

Although the more you thought about everything that had led you up to this point, the more the gnawing feeling of distributing divine retribution clawed at your mind. They all deserve it, every single one of them. Your stay has been nothing short of misery. And what comes around, must come back around. Not once, but twice.

'The Devil himself would cower at this treatment,' you mused. Dante knew nothing of inferno, religious scriptures from your previous world nothing of eternal hell, humans nothing of the true meaning of suffering.

Your blood boiled within you.

What right did they have to anoint you as the imposter threatening to harm their real god, much less with your own ethereal blood? Disgrace at the notion, sacrilege at the deed! Uncontrollable rage simmered within your body . All sinners and not a single saint in sight. There were no disciples walking this cursed land, none who could call themselves prophets, none who could claim themselves worshippers.

You stood. One step is all it took. You knew they would feel the rumble- feel the sickening cracks of the earth as it split in its wake, negating all who stand in its way. Your bones rattled within you, ears adjusting to the new level of noise as you felt your ear drums shatter at the sheer volume.

It was a type of pain that should have you falling to your knees and tearing your lungs apart from the bloodcurdling screams, scratching your throat until you can't even begin to think of breathing ever again. And yet, your body sustained it all. Every tremor threatening to splinter your bones. Every jolt of electricity crashing down onto the earth as the maroon hued sky roared with great tenacity. Every single expulsion of blistering heat coming from below the crust of the earth.

The screams of those who wronged you echoed in your head, and you couldn't deny the adrenaline inducing pleasure pulsing through your veins as months turned millennia of unbridled rage finally unleashed, gave way to events so irreversibly catastrophic you almost willed up some pity. But alas, you didn't have any to give. Not when they had none to spare.

You could only focus on those who tormented you the most, however. Nothing but satisfaction filled your being at every unnoticed - no, purposefully ignored plea for salvation. The very salvation they had the audacity to deny you.

"You have the nerve to beg for my forgiveness now?" your jarring voice roared over all else, and the silence following after only prodded you to carry on.

"The nerve to seek my help after all that you've subjected me to?" fists clenched, you marched through the chaos as the Inazuman landscape morphed from its once beautiful scenery filled with many hues of indigos and lilacs into a charred, barren terrain reeking of nothing but death. You should've felt regret over diminishing your own creation into nothing, and yet as the sky threatened to collapse under the pressure of your gaze, you only smiled.

"You have defiled my holy temple, and for each time you did so I will reduce more of Teyvat to rubble," you remembered the way they drew their spears, high into the air and ready to strike.

"I will pour blood out like water all over Teyvat," you recounted the shackles of self-doubt they dared place on your hands, feet dragging along the cold stone to an untimely demise you thought would come.

"And there will be no one to bury the dead!" you recalled the way their glares settled on your frame, hunched over and staining the grass around you crimson red.

'Help us, O our Lord, our saviour

for the glory of your name;

deliver us and forgive our sins . . .'

You did not try and supress the cackle emitting past your lips at the prayer, eyes lit aflame like the very scenery all around you, 'The irony! Oh, the irony!'

Have they ever forgiven the sins you haven't committed? Have they ever bathed your name in glory? Have they ever offered a respite from the struggles you faced because of them?

You will hold all their transgressions against them, and your mercy will not come in their desperate need of saving. Their words are meaningless, and you will make it known amongst their nations that you will avenge every drop of blood they had spilled on your body's behalf. Your divine body they had so disgracefully tarnished with their dirty hands.

"Heed my warning! I will pour out my wrath on the nations, that did not acknowledge me! On the kingdoms, that have forsaken my name! For you have devoured me, and destroyed me within!" your voice quavered with vehemence, "You have lost the right to refer to me as your Lord!"

"My very people, the sheep of my pasture! You have all contributed to the demise of my land, and your collective essence will be the payment for the debt you accumulated," the surge of emotion you felt failed to quell your aching from pure hatred heart as you looked on at the hell you brought from ground up.

"What you owe me far transcends life itself, and I will be granted what I am due," by the strength of your being, your ambition and your will, you will not preserve them for they are all condemned to forfeit their entirety.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin sagau #sagau cult au #sagau x reader #genshin sagau x reader #genshin imposter au #genshin x reader #xiao x reader #raiden shogun x reader #childe x reader

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bluebudgie · 1 year

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Re: character stories finding an end.

I promise I have characters who retire peacefully and live a long fulfilling life, but those are not the ones that rotate in my head for this topic.

under a cut because: death tw , suicide tw

I just like abrupt unceremonious endings I guess.

Neljje - Got absolutely no set timeframe for this but unless some unpredictable future plot twist gives me any reason to make major changes to his arc he will eventually get killed by chak. All the ley energy knowledge and wilderness survival skills in the world won't help you if you practically radiate the magic that is food for murderous insects several times your size. He has no regrets.

Lahpp - Again no set timeframe for this, but it's a simple truth that his body will sooner or later fail him; already at the current time he has long outlived his predicted life expectancy (the wonders of medicine). Despite making it so far, the thought of his illness "winning" against him freaks him out, and instead of making peace with the situation it only becomes worse the older he gets. He's abnormally scared of death. In morbid irony he would take his own life (a gun shot, likely) in a state of delusional panic just so he can "prove" (to who even?) he was the one in control until the very end. It goes without saying that he really wasn't.

Petthri - Unlike the other two this is one idea for a plausible conclusion to his story rather than a set in stone ending. I really don't know yet what will ultimately happen to him. But one ending I can definitely see is the one where he does actually snap. Tries to break out of the Inquest in an act of very, very tired despair; taking down several labs in the process. Stuff gets set on fire, things explode, it's a mess. He gets shot in a random corridor by unnamed Inquest security. And that's the end of it. If he goes out like this, this happens years before Lahpp's eventual death. (If it's any comfort, I can just as well see Petthri returning to Rata Sum in a far, far away future. I really don't know yet.)

Njálur - His is a special case in the sense that quite honestly narratively I think his story should have ended years ago. But I'm keeping him around because he's a playable character and I don't want to "close any doors" for potential future arcs. That said, this man's life is miserable. The court broke him. Genuinely, wholeheartedly fucked him up. As grim as it is, he hasn't gotten better in years and even though I personally disagree, he doesn't see any way he ever will. If he was part of a novel with a definite end he would have taken his exit long ago.

Lastly I actually have one character who has had his story conclude, and that's my old charr weaver. A pragmatic decision because I wanted to use his character slot for a new character, but ultimately fitting his existing story. He did succumb to chronic illness, but his was more of a bittersweet ending. He was prepared for it (as much as someone can be), he was among loved ones, and he lived a fulfilling life with no regrets. Now he's resting peacefully.

-- Addendum: Njálur and Lahpp deserve therapy tbh but alas I decided to let them be doomed by the narrative and that in itself is part of their character. Letting them find (mental) healing or redemption would obviously be the desirable outcome and it goes without saying that I believe that every person has a chance to get better and find happiness; but as for this fictional setting it'd betray the part they play in the story. Sucks for them ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

#budgie plays gw2

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teikasip · 2 months

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Lucifer's Abyss (Drabble)

Words - 727

Warnings: Allusions to s/h (both direct and indirect), mental spiraling, mentions of death, generally just depression being depression.

Dragging himself through the dark of the workshop, Lucifer found today's work remarkably more draining than yesterday's, though it was the same things every day. The same steps to existing. Awaken, refresh yourself and look alive, get to work. It didn't matter if he had food, water, coffee, whatever. He didn't necessarily need such things, his angelic genetics annihilating such human requirements, and could easily go days without such things, though it did have milder adverse affects over time... All that aside though, sitting down felt like he'd just been shoved by gravity, his shoulders slumped as he begrudgingly took in the parts and tools laid out before him, unorganized and untouched from yesterday evening. He didn't know what really caused it, but all of a sudden he'd grown so agitated, so overwhelmed. His skin had been too tight, his clothes uncomfortable, his ideas and actions all wrong. He'd retired to his bed early because he couldn't seem to do a single thing right after that point. It was mortifying to be unable to function like that, the embarrassment of being such a moronic and miserable individual keeping him in self-isolation. His self-imprisonment of insecurity and worries, his inability to be the king he was meant to be.

Sleeves rolled to his elbows showed soot coloured forearms and claws, smoky gradients blending it into his flesh above. Thin crackles and lines of gold interrupted the deep void of his forearms, scars from things he'd honestly mostly forgotten. He could fade them away at will, if he so desired, but that desire to punish his despair and fear had him aching to leave them there, a reminder of failures to force him to be better, in every possible way the word could apply. Better at being a ruler, a partner, a father. Failure after failure kept weighing his hands down, ceasing his creativity almost instantly as he frustratedly glowered at his workspace. He was ancient, he had no time for such childish creations, no matter the joy they gave him. He had more important and pressing matters to attend to, so why wasn't he? Why was he sitting here uselessly, glaring at his hands like if he wished hard enough they'd be someone else's? The ivory he once knew was long gone though, and he hated it. The evil he created inevitably got to him as well, his own sin forever corrupting him, molecule by molecule as the numbers in Hell grew. The shade crawling through his skin like venom, from his own fangs and bite.

It never stopped building up anyways, the rickety foundations of his reputation and pride were at the risk of cracking and crumbling, weak spots all over, just barely disguised to keep himself safe. The feeling bubbled up and up, threatening to spill over as he clenched his hands into fists, claws digging into calloused flesh, miniscule golden pinpricks welling up after a minute or two of such an action. He felt minutes from exploding, literally and metaphorically, and stood, sweeping everything off his workbench in a fit of rage, scowling and screeching as everything crashed, something even shattering as he panted and quivered. And just as quickly as he'd risen to 100, he dropped back down to 0, sinking to his knees, claws curled into his hair as he stared blankly at the mess of the room. Of course the most hated being in all of creation would only ever ruin the things he tried to love. He wasn't made to be loved and creative. He was meant to be hated and feared and cruel. And he couldn't even meet those low of requirements. How pathetic.

As he rose to his feet, he gave one last disdainful glare at the room, before he left, lights out and door slamming as he did. He didn't deserve a second chance at that after his behaviour. Such a child. He never learned, even after all this punishment and isolation, even after the exterminations. Every single creation and new thing he tried to follow the path of ended in pain and destruction of all he had dreamed of. Such lofty, hazy ideals should've been left behind in Heaven when he fell. He wouldn't have even fallen if he hadn't had such fantastical ideas, such extravagant thoughts, such whimsical dreams.

He should've just stayed in his place.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lucifer #Teikas Writing

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volturialice · 2 years

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How do you think Jasper handled his gift when they joined the Cullens?

I personally headcanon that Alice and Jasper made them aware of its existence, however Jasper refrained from using the 'active' part of it (influencing others) for a good while out of respect for the Cullen's personal boundries and because he wanted to avoid them thinking he 'made' them like him and Alice.

He was miserable during most of that time because of suddenly being around six vampires with very different emotional climates and feeling them all at the same time is not fun (yes, newborns, but they are mostly anger and thirst, so one ball of the same emotions while Emmett could totally be entertained seeing Rosalie and Edward fight, Esme could fear for the life of her new antique dresser and Alice could be bored because she saw the argument and its outcome already) but he did it anyway because he did not want to risk ruining Alice's dream of a belonging to that family.

Looking forward to reading youe thoughts!

love this question. innnteresting! I know @jessicanjpa has kind of the opposite take, that jasper was so paranoid he used his ability on the others without telling them about it for the first while.

I myself have honestly never thought about it, but I like both? I can see things going either way, depending on how well alice had managed to convince him of their safety at that point, whether he had taught her to fight yet, and various other factors.

I have to kinda disagree with that last paragraph—I don't think disparate emotions would feel as bad as uniform-but-overwhelmingly-negative ones. if anything, I would imagine it creates more equilibrium, closer to how a normal, non-pathokinetic person experiences a range of emotions over their day. I bet the emotions of the cullens, where any negativity is mostly limited to the ongoing edward vs rosalie rancor and (probably) some healthy general suspicion of jasper and alice as newcomers, would seem like a cakewalk after the years of violence and backstabbing in the vampire army, horrifying death throes of human prey, and even the awkward pity of peter and charlotte. jasper even says in eclipse that "this is a climate I enjoy." I'm sure it was an adjustment after hanging out with only alice for years, but it seems to me like a relatively easy one, especially considering alice is his #1 emotional connection and she must have been delirious with joy and excitement for that initial period.

but yes, I think you're right on the money that however the truth of jasper's gift came out, there would have to be a conversation about boundaries. I think rosalie in particular would be like absolutely NOT, don't you DARE influence my emotions. edward too—he's a self-admitted masochist, I think he would consider any kind of artificial mood-lifting to be Cheating And Cowardly—he thinks he deserves to suffer. esme and emmett wouldn't much care, especially once they got to know and trust jasper a bit. carlisle would be mainly concerned that jasper use his influence respectfully, and not for personal gain or long-term manipulation, and then pretty hands-off after those caveats.

in the books jasper seems to deploy his gift whenever however, with zero permission and total impunity (see: knocking bella fully unconscious with a pathokinetic crowbar to the head.) but to me that feels like yet another case of smeyer using something As The Plot Demands and not bothering to consider the full implications. she retconned jasper's gift into being "physical," she retconned him into having basically the power of invisibility in midnight sun...,it doesn't exactly smack of thoughtful worldbuilding and characterization to me. super fun and interesting to play around with for us fans, though!

#asks #meta #jalice #jasper hale #alice cullen #long post //#anyone else have thoughts?

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jmagnabo92 · 2 years

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The Worst Memory

For Sirius and Harry Saturday.

Part of the Harry and Sirius Bonding fic. Potentially Part 19.

Harry’s reaction to Snape’s Worst Memory is initially very angry, but luckily, Sirius does get to talk him through it.

***

Given all of the craziness happening at Hogwarts, Sirius had come to expect the daily calls from Harry, particularly on Mondays since they were the worst day of the week for Harry due to Umbridge, Snape, Trelawney, and then, those stupid occlumency lesson with Snape, where he basically abuses his power over Harry. Sirius had contemplated trying to teach Harry, himself, but he’s never been particularly good at it, and he wouldn’t be able to explain why Harry’s suddenly not attending Snape’s lessons without mentioning the mirror.

So, Mondays are the worst.

“Pads!” an angry Harry yells.

It’s much earlier than he expects, and he’s surprised when Harry appears in the mirror looking extremely angry.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you, what?” Sirius asks, surprised. Harry’s never been so abrupt and angry with him.

“Why didn’t you tell me that you and dad used to bully Snape and that’s why he makes it his mission in life to my life miserable?”

Sirius is in complete shock. “I – we – what?”

“Yeah! I saw it all. There was the DADA O.W.L and…” Harry continues to explain the entire scene, Sirius remembers it well.

It had been merely two weeks after the incident with the Willow. Snape had been following them around for ages, trying to get them expelled and Sirius had done something foolish, telling him that if he really knew anything then already know that to get passed the willow, all he had to do was press the knot. Snape had used magic to stop Sirius from chasing after him once the answer was out and they’d both been lucky that James had come by a few minutes later and able to save him. Although Remus had been angry with Sirius, James had been far more angry with Snape. Furious that Snape had finally found a way to prove his ‘theory’ and that he’d blatantly been trying to get Remus killed and Sirius expelled, the fact he existed was enough to go after Snape whenever he could. It had been years of back and forth before that, but that incident and the incident after the DADA O.W.L had been the culmination of everything.

Once Harry finishes the explanation of what he’d seen, Sirius says, “It’s not what it seemed like. He wasn’t our victim – we didn’t bully him …”

“Dad only went after him because you said you were bored, and the reason was that he exists! How could you –”

“Harry, listen, it’s a long story, but that was just one moment – we trying to get back at him for the Willow incident…”

“You mean the incident where you tried to feed him to Lupin on the Full Moon?” Harry snarls, obviously very upset. “Maybe he was right about that, too – maybe all along you were just attacking him for no reason –”

“No, Harry! That’s not it at all – there were so many things and reasons, he was following us around, trying to get us expelled –”

“And you didn’t deserve that? Mum said that you go around bullying people just for fun –”

“It wasn’t like that. We did throw hexes, but it was in retaliation for the mini-death eater’s own behavior. We’d never attack innocents.”

“Snape was looking pretty innocent to me.”

“He wasn’t – I told you that he was into the dark arts and following after us, really, it wasn’t one-sided – he gave as good as he got.”

Harry looks furious. “Sounds like you’re just making up excuses.”

Before Sirius could even reply back, the mirror goes blank. Obviously, Harry had had enough. Sirius vaguely tries to call him back only to see nothing, but his own reflection.

***

Sirius knows that things are a bit difficult between him and Harry even since Harry had seen the memory of what happened after the DADA OWL. It’s true that Sirius hadn’t particularly cared for Snape ever since they met, and there had been extenuating circumstances to the events in the memory, but Sirius’ attempts to explain had sounded like excuses to Harry, who had ended the call a week ago, abruptly.

Sirius hadn’t heard from his kid since, and he worries that Harry’s struggling with many things on his own now because he refuses to talk to Sirius over something that happened twenty years ago.

The worst part was not being able to call Harry on the mirror because he couldn’t risk someone finding out about the mirror, which results in a very stressed out Sirius sitting in Harry’s room, wishing more than anything that his kid would just call him.

He doesn’t like being on the outs with his kid. Not when he knows that Harry’s suffering on his own at the school.

“You okay?” a voice asks from the doorway. It’s Remus, who’s been trying to be around more lately – Sirius senses that he’s feeling guilty about his lack of support for Harry or Sirius.

“I’m fine,” Sirius lies.

“You’re not,” Remus counters.

Sirius doesn’t bother to answer, prompting Remus to speak, again.

“Did you know that Snape refused to teach Harry occlumency anymore?”

Sirius looks up at him, “How’d you know that?”

“Snape was on a tear during the meeting tonight, which you didn’t bother to attend.”

“Why would I? No one bothers to listen to me.”

“Because you’re a member of the Order and you’re required to be there, especially since your godson is the topic of conversation. What the hell happened?” Remus demands.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Sirius states, plainly. “It’s not the Order’s business and if they really cared about the things that Harry’s been through or him at all – they wouldn’t have put him in a situation with Snape where he had no power to defend himself and give Snape all sorts of things to use against him. It’s no wonder that Harry chose to peek into the pensieve – it was only fair.”

Remus frowns, “He looked at Snape’s memories?”

“That is the only thing you took away from that?” Sirius demands. “It doesn’t matter what Harry did, it matters what utter bollocks that Snape’s been throwing his way! For years, he’s treated Harry like hell because he hates James and he’s spent weeks on end invading Harry’s thoughts and memories and laughing at the hell he’s been through. On top of which, he taunts him in class and has straight up destroyed Harry’s work on multiple occasions – it was okay that he finally got curious enough to see what Snape is hiding when he had the chance. It’s not like Harry was offered the same chance to protect himself from Snape. And he didn’t even teach anything – Harry’s situation has gotten worse and now he won’t even talk to me because of a mistake James and I made twenty years ago!”

Sirius is so frustrated that he doesn’t care if he’s being loud or outing the communication with Harry. He doesn’t care about anything anymore. His kid won’t talk to him, the order doesn’t listen to him, and he’s at his wit’s end over the situation.

Remus appears to see that Sirius obviously needs to talk about the situation and sits across from him on the bed. “I know that Snape has been unfair to Harry – I do, but it’s best that he learns occlumency and that you tell him that he’s got to put all that aside because Snape’s important for the war.”

Astounded, Sirius looks at him with unfettered loathing. “Leave this room right now.”

“Sirius –”

“Now, Remus! I already told you once – I don’t want to hear you say that my kid is somehow at fault for the situation with Snape. It is not his fault that he’s my kid, it’s not his fault that he’s James’ kid. Snape is his teacher and has been practically torturing him in classes for years – since the day they met. It’s not fair to put this situation on him.”

“I know it’s not fair, but we have to cater to Snape –”

“No, we don’t,” Sirius states, sternly. “Harry has been through unfettered hell in the last few years, and he deserves better than to be forced to cater to Snape. Whenever he does decide to talk to me, again, I’m going to tell him that. Because he deserves better than this and until you decide to put Harry’s needs and feelings first, I don’t want to talk to you.”

“So, you don’t want to talk about how stressed you’ve been about the memory Harry witnessed after all?”

“Not with you – not if you’re going to beat up on Harry and somehow think that he should be responsible for fixing things with Snape when none of this is his fault.”

“I’m sorry,” Remus states. “I am just trying to be –”

“Pragmatic? The peacemaker?” Sirius asks. He doesn’t wait for a response before continuing, “Well, I’m not the mood for it.”

“Okay – okay, well, I’ll stop, but I do think that you should talk about it – whatever happened.”

Sirius sighs. He did need to talk about it. If only because he was going crazy worrying about Harry’s reaction. “He saw that memory of the DADA OWL, and he was very upset… rightfully so. He had a lot of questions.”

“And he has the mirror to talk to you, so…”

“He – er – he told me what he saw and wanted to know why I never told him that his father was a bully…”

“Did you explain that he wasn’t? That there were extenuating circumstances?” Remus asks, already ready to defend James, which is okay because it’s true. “That any seemingly undue hexing of Snape or anyone else was for an underlying reason like finding out that they’d attacked Muggleborn first years or a returning the favor situation?”

The situation with Snape was never as cut and dry as it seemed in that memory, and Remus, more than anyone, would understand that. He’d defend James when he wouldn’t defend Sirius.

“I tried to explain, but he thought I was excusing the situation and ended the call – I haven’t heard from him since.” Sirius shakes his head. “It’s killing me that he won’t talk to me – that he thinks that James is so awful when he was an amazing man and I… I just never wanted him to think badly of the man that saved me from ending up like the rest of my family. The man who loved everyone that wasn’t into the dark arts or baby death eater scene. The man who risked everything for those he loved. The man who – he just he deserves better than for his son to remember him by his worst moment – not the moment he risked his life to save the man who set up me and you up so he could kill you and blame me, not the moment he gave me a home and made me a Potter, not the moment that he tried to protect and help Harry in the graveyard, not the moment that he tried to fight Voldemort without a wand – No. Instead, he’s remembered for his worst possible moment and it’s not just fair.”

“Maybe not,” Harry says.

The sound of Harry’s voice from the mirror jars Sirius from looking at Remus to looking down at his kid.

“Harry! Oh, Harry, how long have you –”

“Long enough. I heard you say my name and I figured… Can we talk? Alone?”

Sirius glances up at Remus, who nods, “Of course.”

Once Remus is gone, Sirius focuses on Harry again.

“I’m sorry – I didn’t – I didn’t mean to cause you grief or drive you crazy, Pads.”

“That’s – it’s fine. I just – I understood why you were upset, I just hoped that you’d – you know – come back to me sooner, but you’re here now and – and I’m just glad you want to talk.”

“I do – I – it wasn’t fair to not listen to you. I was just so angry that I didn’t really want to listen. And it sounds like there really was more to the story and all I did by not listening to you was punish us both.”

“You needed time – I understand,” Sirius assures him. “It’s hard to have your image of your dad not be so perfect all of a sudden. I know Snape has said some awful things to you, but you refused to listen to him and now, you’re rightfully questioning all that.”

“I am – I just, I don’t understand, he didn’t seem to be doing anything wrong.”

“Not in that particular moment, no. It’s a long story, but things built up to that moment…”

“Well, then, I’d like to hear the story – how’d it get that way?��

Sirius nods. He’d known this was coming. “Alright, well, you see, Snape was always into the Dark Arts. He had a thing against muggles from the get-go and there was a moment on the express where James laughed at his interest in Slytherin – made a joke about leaving which wasn’t true because his mother was a Slytherin – and –”

“She was?” Harry questions. “I thought the family were all Gryffindors?”

Sirius feels a pang at the idea that Harry doesn’t know his own family history and sighs, “No, she – she was in Slytherin. James grew up joking around about the house he’d be in and had this idea of being just like his dad – so it was always ‘if I’m not like dad, I’ll come home’ – it’s obvious he wouldn’t have. Anyway, Snape took offense, made a comment about Gryffindors and then they left when we gave him the name ‘Snivellus’. We were eleven – it was stupid. It could’ve ended there.”

“But it didn’t?”

“Nah, he made it his mission to get us kicked out of school.”

“Sounds like Malfoy and me.”

“From what you told me – it was a lot like that. He’d do something – we’d do something. We knew he was part of a junior death eater gang – something I mentioned last year. He was into the dark arts, believed their philosophy. He wasn’t fond of muggles or muggleborns – except Lily…”

“Mum? I – I – you never…”

Sirius clears his throat. “Yes, well, it – it’s difficult. As I told you at Christmas, your mum and I were close even without your dad around, and she struggled with not only her sister and that situation, but the fact that Snape was her friend. He was the one that told her she had magic and they were close. She kept trying to make excuses for him when he’d get caught up with his little Slytherin gang hurting muggleborns and it – sort of ostracized her. Many in Gryffindor, particularly muggleborns, struggled even wanting to be associated with her because she got leeway that they didn’t due to Snape. She was … stubborn… like you.”

“Stubborn like my mum? That’s new,” Harry smiles, sadly.

“Yeah, and she tried so hard to hold onto him, even when it seemed like a lost cause. The older we got, the worse it got and that was part of the problem. As she pulled away, he became more and more obsessed with us. He thought if he proved that we weren’t all that great that she’d be closer to him again.”

Harry’s eyebrows furrow. “They didn’t seem like they were friends at all for that to work.”

Sirius laughs, “They were and they weren’t. It depended on the day. They certainly knew how to drive each other crazy. The situation we (as in James and I) had with Snape certainly contributed to the back and forth-ness of it all. Since the beginning of it all – it was back and forth. He didn’t like whenever he’d see Lily with us so he’d cause trouble and we’d retaliate. Sometimes, we’d start something as if we could prove to her how awful he was. By the time we got to third year, we all knew about Remus and Snape figured that he had the golden opportunity to get us expelled, by outing Remus. So he plotted against us – found a way to make it work only it backfired…”

“When you tried to feed him to a werewolf?”

“I didn’t do that. It was more complicated…” Sirius quickly explains what happened with it just coming out as it had and finishes, “…so it wasn’t like I just trapped him down there or something.”

Harry nods. “Makes sense. So – that event that I saw… it wasn’t because he existed at all…”

“No, James just couldn’t say the truth, unfortunately. Too many people.”

“And mum – she didn’t really hate him?”

Sirius chuckles, softly. “Of course not – she was just angry that day. Like you, she felt the need to step in for the underdog, which she always thought was Snape because aside from a few friends, no one really liked him. Not like James and I, anyway.”

Harry nods. “He did seem pretty popular. You both were – with the girls anyway.”

Sirius smiles, “Yeah, too bad I’m not into girls. Your dad got lucky though – found the best one.”

It’s quiet for a minute before Harry speaks, again. “I’m sorry again for not being willing to listen. I feel better now, but it was miserable this week.”

“It was pretty miserable for me, too,” Sirius admits. “But I love you, kid, and I want you to be able to talk to me about anything else that you want to talk about, okay.”

Harry nods. “Thanks, I love you, too. But – er – right now, I’m kind of exhausted. I have been so upset and focused on what I saw…”

“I understand. Why don’t you get some sleep? We can talk tomorrow.”

“Sounds good. Night.”

“Night, kid.”

#Sirius Black #Harry James Potter #sirius and harry saturday #Sirius and Harry #Mirror Talks #James Potter (discussed)#Lily Potter (discussed)#Remus Lupin

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dwarfseatrocks · 2 years

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Angles and Debils

For this setting, we don’t have the framework ordinarily assumed for most D&D settings. This does prevent some published stories from being run in it (such as Descent into Avernus), but that’s fine. If my players want to do that, we don’t have to make another setting to play it in, we can just do it as the books says. Anyways, where does that leave some of the key supernatural figures if we don’t have these?

Angels - Almost always played out in the Abrahamic framework of divine goodness versus infernal evil, even if there is none of the set-up to it. Instead, our angels will be morally neutral. They take the place of daimones in Greek religion, being intermediates between the immortal gods and the mortal humans. In a sense they are minor gods. Not worshiped, but still possessing immense power. Each angel serves either a god or a specific purpose. Borrowing from the real world, Iris (the messenger of the gods in the Iliad), would be an angel in this context. She is a semi-divine being that works for the gods. Some may not work directly for a god. They might just do something they need to on their own.

Angels are not inherently good or bad. The line between angel and devil is therefore blurry. In general, devils are punishers who carry out the dirty work for a god. Of course, the exception to this are the "destroying angels". The line between angel and god can also be blurry. Angels are minor gods, so they could be the children of greater gods who don't receive worship. They could marry gods and be elevated.

One thing I'd like to borrow from various Abrahamic folklores is that angels are immaterial. They have no physical body; they're closer to spirits. The functions they serve are often more supernatural than material after all: polishing the chariot of the sun, delivering prophetic dreams, whispering inspiration into people's ears. They only take a material shape when necessary. Almost all of them have wings, not because they need them to fly, but because they are symbolic of their purpose as messengers and servants to the gods. They represent their ability to traverse great distances. Humans will not see them. The only way an angel can/will be seen is if they wish to reveal themselves, or someone uses an ointment of revealing on their eyes (taking the place of the ethereal oil).

Devils - The counterpart to angels. As said before, there is no divine war between fiends and angels, or demons and devils. Taking cues from Egyptian and Mesopotamian religions, devils are the servants of the gods. Gods are not inherently loving, they will send plagues and disasters against humans that deserve them. These are the devils. They exist to punish and ruin. This is where the division between angels and devils is located. Devils will preform malevolent actions against malevolent characters as a supernatural or moral punishment. To reflect this, they have frightening or disturbing appearances. This is, to an extent, what we see as well in the earliest Abrahamic stories. There, Satan (or the many satanas) worked in the pocket of God to test and punish human beings. In the story of Job, Satan was sent to test the titular character by making his life miserable, to see if he would remain faithful to God. No mention of Hell, being ripped from Heaven, or being eternally excluded from His love is mentioned.

Being the counterparts to angels, they take some cues from them. They are similarly immaterial at most times, but when needed, or summoned, they will become physical entities, at the risk of death or damage. Devils are summoned a lot more than angels. This is probably due to their independence; angels work as the right hand of a god, but devils work a little more on their own. As spirits they may travel great distances and be privy to knowledge mortals could not possess.

Where do devil lords come in to this? Archdevils tend to take names like Beelzebub, Dispater, and Geryon. Which are the names of gods, or god-adjacent entities. In that case, these beings are gods themselves, but ones that people do not worship. At least anymore. Gods are part and parcel of societies, and so they evolve with them. A god like Baal might take the position of king of gods one century, but be forgotten the next. Rather than become lost and forgotten, the older generation of god sitting in their ruined temples forever, they may take the opportunity to evolve in a nastier direction. They maintain relevancy at the cost of being feared rather than worshiped. Archdevils are worshiped in a sense, but it's to divert their attention rather than attract it. Saying their names may be a taboo, as it may make them aware of you. In this case, the Greek Hades would be an Archdevil. Aside from this though, they are still gods, and may even rub shoulders with them.

Demons - If angels and devils represent the tools of the gods, what about demons? Demons are the miscellaneous pile. They are closer to giants and titans than devils; being primordial agents that exist in opposition to the gods and humanity. They are comparable to the Hindu/Vedic rakshasa, who are also lumped into the title of demon.

What especially separates demons is their diversity. They range from forming enormous armies to antisocial, able to bring fights to the lands of the gods to little more than a supernatural bedbug (see: succubi). They all simply want to do harm to the gods and humans. One would think they would find themselves allied with the giants, but this is not the case. Demons are beings of envy. They want and want and want, but they will not share. The demons want to usurp the current world order for one where they occupy the space of the gods. Demon Lords take the place of gods, but are not necessarily connected with them. They get their titles by being the biggest bullies and pushing their way to the top.

Because of their nature, demons are very physical creatures. They are born, they age, and they eventually die (though it takes thousands of years for this to happen). They need to eat and excrete, but what exactly this is depends on the demon in question. Vrock can subside on corpses alone, but hezrou are closer to humans in their dietary range. They aren’t natural creatures that evolved to be this way, but are also not spirits in the sense angels and devils are. To fulfill these requirements, demons live in physical spaces. These are usually subterranean otherworlds inaccessible to humans. Ordinarily. Heroes can, of course, do whatever they fuck they want.

#d&d #dnd #dungeons and dungeons #setting #world #world building #angel #angels #devils #demons #fiends

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senrrrra · 3 months

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Massive stupid narc rant under cut!!! I'm experiencing Narcissistic collapse. (Katie pls pls pls don't read I told Nathan I wouldn't say anything)

I've been having a fucking crash for a week now or something. It's been fucking hell. I wake up and I'm sad and miserable and want to break and destroy something or just everything. There's this pit in my stomach I can't get rid of.

Then I wonder, "oh, can I fix this? Can I help it at all?" and foolishly google it, hoping among all the horrible articles about how much I suck and how manipulative and abusive I must be there might be something good. But all that does is make me think about how my best friend reads all this shit, firmly believed it, and wants fucking nothing to do with me and is probably happy I'm gone. After almost 2 years, knowing me so well and me genuinely thinking we were friends, he decided I'm actually just shit and can't be trusted because he learnt something about me. He'd probably be happy if I fucking dropped dead! Then I wouldn't be a "threat to Nathan's safety".

I want to fucking sprint 300 miles in the other direction, go to the nearest town, get a job and change my name. I want to disappear. By being around Nathan, I'm causing these issues. People thinking I'm hurting him just by being a narcissist and existing around him. I can't say or do anything without having somebody be like "oh I feel bad for him/I'm worried for him, being stuck with a narcissist as a husband".

The options are to hide my NPD from everybody and hope new friends don't find out. If they find out, they'll be like oh I've been lied to and manipulated this whole time and I'll lose somebody else I've gotten close to.

Other option is to be upfront and immediately scare people off and feel so fucking unloved and hated. Having people en masse telling me I'm worth less than mud (something that was said to me when I was banned from a server for saying I was a narcissist) would do absolutely miracles for my mental health I'm sure!!!

I'm a fucking day away from shooting myself dead and I'm not even fucking joking. I'm so miserable. I could just wander out of the house one day and Nathan would never find me again. Oh, but then I'm in my head like "you're being abusive, manipulative, you're threatening suicide and you're an abusive fucking narcissist" and I'm stuck in this fucking CYCLE.

I'm suicidal because I feel so fucking hated and rejected by everybody but this suicidal ideation makes me feel even worse about being a narcissist, which makes the suicidal thoughts worse. Nobody can fucking help me. There's no resources on how to help me. Only on how to protect yourself from a narcissist's crash. Because we're going to abuse and fucking kill you, I guess.

I just want to kill myself, that's it. I feel so horrible. I feel like I shouldn't fucking front ever again. I don't deserve to exist or even fucking breathe. I hope I get stabbed to death on my way home. I hope a train runs the bus over on my way to work. I hope my chest pain is actually serious and causes my heart to stop. I hope our house catches on fire while Nathan's at work (and all of his belongings are okay, I'm the only thing damaged and killed). I hope I just stop living. Please. The fucking universe won't let me have peace or mercy for a SECOND.

I'm hated by my family, friends, partners. All my life. My whole life. People are afraid of me because of BPD and now for NPD, I'm hated. I'm treated as this horrible fucking monster with no remorse or care. I must be hurting Nathan in some way. I've become so hyper vigilant of how I act with him because I'm so scared I'm actually narc abusing him and have no fucking clue. I genuinely don't even want to be friends with him at all anymore because I can't fucking handle this. I don't want to cause more problems with his friends. I don't want to cause problems with his potential future friends. I'm so afraid of making life terrible for those closest to me.

My family made me think I made life horrible and terrible for them just by existing. I cost too much, I cried too much, I talked too much, I laughed too much, I did everything too much. I made everything so difficult for them. My friends made me feel this way. My partners made me feel this way. I'm the common denominator. I must actually be this horrible.

Fuck I should actually just die, huh? I'm really stuck like this forever. It's only a matter of time before everything goes horribly wrong and I'm the common denominator again. I shouldn't be around anybody.

#cw suicide #tw suicide #suicide #idk ill just kill myself brutally watch out #katie don't look pls #pls pls #you probably wont even see this but if you do please dont look #i have to get this out of me #i feel so fucking trapped and hurt and nobody will care #i want my best friend back #i fucking miss him so much and its been like 5 days

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annoyingwritingartneck · 10 months

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~And it’s hard to be at a party when i feel like an open wound

The girl who loved me first told me, i was too easy to love, too lovable yet i never loved her. She reminded me every day how they’d come and go, love me and leave me but I would not hold on to them, if only their memories. I think I don’t love them because i don’t love myself, i never have, i don’t know what it feels like, every day i look at the mirror all i see is the girl i have wanted dead since forever. I don’t know why. I don’t know why i cannot love. I leave myself with scars. I remember going to funerals and watching people cry of love but i never did, i always wanted to, i wanted to cry out of love for someone, but every time someone who loved me went away i felt, well, important. I believe i was supposed to love my dad but i never could, i see a man of flaws, flaws aging and tampering his own thoughts filling him up with guilt for his flaws and i see a parent i want to forgive and to some extent i have because i understand, i understand how he regrets everything, how he wishes he was different the way i do, but it’s not enough, it’s not enough because i hurt people the way he hurt me, he left me with a part i wish i could bury away and not a soul would know, they are not memories, they are dreams, they are the parts of me that lived vicariously when I saw those imperfect dads with the daughters they love, when the perfect little daughters i grew with told me how their dad loved them enough.

I never feel alive. Never. Never. I feel the parts of my soul are scattered, my mind wanders, and i cannot ever be complete. And maybe that’s why i believe no one can complete me, no soul will ever be my half. They gave so many signs and i never saw one of them, i turned a blind eye to all of them because i am a disgrace to love, i am miserable and broken, i don’t let them look at me too much because they might see a mark, a scar i have never seen, a mark that might be too ugly or too old. And i don’t let them close, i never tell them things, because i know how they’d want to know more, how they’d like to know more so they would want to complete me, how they would tell me they could mend my destroyed soul, and they would like to tell me how they could complete me and i wish they could, how i wish that was true and how i wish i could let people stay when they want to stay but i have this excruciating habit of pushing them away, of telling them i don’t need them maybe because i believe if i did tell them that i need them they’d be willing to stay and i don’t think i have any reason to stay with myself and i will never believe they do either, i want to kill myself at the end of each day and that doesn’t mean i am not grateful for this life, i am, i might be one of the most loved, gifted child but i don’t deserve it i can’t love any of it back, not the love, not the talents.

I don’t see a future with myself and i don’t know if anyone could. Every element in this world has its own way of reminding me, they could be my death and i wonder if that would be my death. I don’t cry either, i don’t cry when people go away, i only cry when i think of my dad how i wish i had him, how i wish i had a man to love me, a man i could look up to, how i wish i had pictures with my dad, how i wish i had memories. I know i am loved and i know I’ll be loved but i wish i could love, i wish i was strong enough to love, i wish parts of me that are scattered would come back to me and give me the strength to want to live and love. I am tired now, too tired. I believed i write to escape but i live to write now, i wish to exist in all i want to escape from and how sad is that. I want to be happy. Just happy. I want to see beauty and love in myself the way i see it in others and i want to complete myself the way they believe they can complete me. so to all that dead and gone I promise to find my way to you.

-Jess

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goth-mothered · 1 year

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@diicktective || Gory Starter ! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.

TW For: Death / Murder / Torture, Blood & Gore, Potentially Disturbing Descriptions, vomit mentions & Body horror elements.

It was hard being the Devil’s favorite - she’d promised her soul at a time in her existence before she could understand the implications of exactly what she was asking for. She may have promised her soul, but Old Nick was always a step ahead of their game -- some centuries, he toyed with her very sanity. He was under no real obligation to deliver her darling Gomez to her and there was little she could do about it; fighting with the Dark One was pointless. She had been informed no less than 3 weeks ago by her Lord that the Addams bloodline wouldn’t make its appearance again for a century. She promptly lost her senses. ( It was a fair trade really, given that she had endured the lion’s share of misfortune and tragedy and it was bound to snap eventually -- not unlike the miserable slob beneath her’s ligaments and tendons as she worked over him with spell craft & dagger. ) The death wails and rattles her prey was emitting, ought to have summoned even the heaviest of sleepers, perhaps even the dead - but, the silencing charm Morticia had cast upon them rendered all his suffering and complaints useless. She smiled, a sweet expression if it hadn’t been accompanied by the severing of artery and vein. A cranberry colored spray pulsed - catching her in the face, across her neck, up her arms and rolling down again to her finger tips. All of this, was of course, child’s play for one so educated in the dark arts.

The air they were breathing felt thick, almost suffocating: the air of the damned and dying. She may have imagined it, but there was sudden tinge of suffer and fire, only for a moment and she knew the maker was laughing and mocking her ... urging her to to continue her bloody carnage.

She slid the knife into the tender spot between rib meat and bone, making a lateral incision until she could slide her hands easily into his chest cavity. She took a moment to keep going, mesmerized by the way his flesh fluttered with each thrust closer to his heart. For a brief moment, her eyes met her terrified victim’s and she nearly ceased her frenzied attack. What had he really done that deserved this villainy ? Proffered to her some ill-time affection ? Some blasphemous morsels of tenderness she was too hard-edged & vile to receive meaningfully ?

Her hands ached under the ferocity of each blow and she could feel the communal dead who tarried about between worlds, now waiting for her to send this poor bloodied creature to their arms so they too could lay siege to his soul. His limbs were bent at unnatural angles, some bones protruding or completely removed & laid in a neat reverent pile beside him. The places they were missing sagged under the remaining weight of flesh and fat. He couldn’t reach his chest to push her hand away, ( as if that would do any good anyway ! ), her brow raised watching his attempts, though the new configuration of his tendons made purposeful movement impossible and clumsy. “ Plea - “

His pleading had fallen on deaf ears. Out of pure frustration, Morticia flicked the blade into his mouth - slicing the muscle giving his frayed and hoarse vocal chords release. She plucked his tongue from between his lips and tossed it behind her, shivering at the wet slap it made against the ground. As her hands found purchase on his coeur de coeurs. Her lip quivered, the voice in her head screaming his innocence while the whispers of the dead drove her on still. ‘ Deliver him to us. Deliver him to us. Deliver him to us ! ‘ they demanded, driving the sane thoughts of mercy & innocence well and away from her rationality. She was beyond it, simply an instrument doing what well-honed instruments did ... their fucking job. Her hands clutched around the slippery organ and he gave one final groan of relief as his life was allowed to vacate his husk of a body. Morticia herself sat back on her haunches and stared at the leaking crimson muscle. After a crazed moment of self reflection on the nature of beasts, humanity, and what really set them apart - she took a large bite from it. Warm blood coated her tongue, the acrid taste of charred copper, iron & salt filled her senses. That char ... the maker was still laughing at her grief. She suddenly felt very nauseous, dropped the heart, pitched forward onto the heels of her hands & finally, retched. Thick black bile came up, flecked with still slick organ meat and Tish found herself rolling into a fetal position on her side. Curling up, she felt the hot tears burning her cheeks and eyes, letting out a wail of her own fit to splinter the dead’s ears & wedge the gap of reality, ( between the living and dead ), open a hair more than before.

To the normal denizens of this world, the call was unheard - no louder than a whisper on the wind. To those more in-tune with the going-ons; beneath the layers of grime, the veneer this world offered to the weak-minded and ignorant, her call was as plain and loud as the squall of evening traffic on the city streets.

#( This is long and I am sorry for that ! )#†• Thank You For Getting The Mail Thing ! •† ( Morticia Replies. )

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diamondcitydarlin · 2 years

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ok but ofmd and the way that it depicts following heteronormativity and societal expectation blindly as a cautionary tale

Stede ultimately leaves and abandons Ed because of the unresolved guilt he feels about having left his family (it has to have been a bad thing because it goes against the societal rules, right?) but the real push is in that final confrontation with Chauncey.

In a previous post I talked about how both Chauncey and Nigel Badminton are so obsessed with their hatred of Stede because of how loyally they both follow the societal rules of masculinity and conformity, how important those roles and designations are to them, and the frustration that forms towards Stede because he has literally never followed any of these 'rules' and seemingly continues to be far happier than any of the rest of them. Look at him there, picking flowers! Enjoying it!! WE'RE NOT ALLOWED TO DO THAT WTF (actually this was more specifically Nigel's thing, but Chauncey clearly had some bitterness about this as well that was mainly fueled by his brother's death)

So, because Stede does not and never has followed the rules, and not only that but seems to have such an effect on people as to encourage them not to follow rules either (read: express their individuality and true selves), it stands to reason in both the Badminton's minds and Stede's that there would eventually be a punishment for that; going against societal expectation couldn't possibly result in anything beneficial, after all. This is all just him being selfish and indulgent.

Stede Bonnet isn't doing anything good. He couldn't be. To accept otherwise would mean to accept that the rules that keep the Badminton brothers 'safe' in their corner of the world, and Izzy as well in a more pirate-y sense, don't actually exist and everything they've been taught is real...isn't real. That's their whole worldview, gone, and all three of these men are in far too fragile states to even begin accepting something like that. ('he's from my world, not yours' these designations are very important to them)

So therefore, Stede must be destroying things and lives with these selfish, rebellious actions; his family, both Badminton twins, the dread pirate Blackbeard himself.

And you know what fuck it, they're not wrong. Stede is destroying things; or rather, he's deconstructing them.

He, Mary and their children never knew true happiness until Stede chose to deconstruct and redefine their lives into something other than the societal expectation. With him out having adventures and them free to live as they choose with his money and land, they're all happier than they've probably ever been before. It's only when Stede comes back and tries to re-conform them to roles that only ever made them miserable do things really begin to go to shit. That's only fixed by he and Mary finally accepting that they aren't what society wants them to be, never have been, and who cares, who needs it? They've defined their unique family situation in a way that makes sense for them.

Stede deconstructed Blackbeard too. He knew him as Ed first and pretty much exclusively, he convinced Ed that he actually does deserve nice things and affection and safety and he can do so without the protective barrier the persona of Blackbeard has always afforded him. Ed hasn't been allowed to believe what Stede so effortlessly shows him.

Because Blackbeard plays an important role in society too, odd though it may sound. Chauncey says it himself when he chastises Stede for bringing 'history's greatest pirate to ruin' and is ultimately fine with allowing Ed to go free; if Chauncey is the good guy and hero in his own story, Blackbeard is the necessary villain, the worthy opponent that he must always have vicious and bloodthirsty to justify his own place in the world. I mean...without villains, who needs heroes? And without that clear designation of who is 'good' and who is 'bad', people might start second-guessing his own integrity.

And of course, Izzy needs Blackbeard too for similar reasons, a lot of which I believe is tied up in the ways he represses his sexuality, the ways he actually allows himself to experience his own sexuality so that it doesn't emasculate him. He needs Blackbeard calling him filthy names and throwing him around and feeding him his own toes; he needs a stronger, dominating masculine personality to take control. (This is a completely valid desire for someone to have btw, I'm not trying to say its inherently toxic AT ALL, just in Izzy's case I think it's tied up in some things)

I don't think it's even that Izzy doesn't like Ed, that more emotional, goofy side of him. Ed just...scares him, and not in a safe, sexy way. It's too much emotion and vulnerability on display than Izzy can even bear to recognize in himself so. No, that won't do at all, he's got to stuff Ed into a drawer and lock it tight. So to speak. But also maybe literally who knows.

And the Badminton brothers ultimately fall on their own swords. The metaphor is literal. Or gun- you get it. Stede had no part, no real blame in what happens to them, but he's been conditioned to shoulder the blame of anything that happens as a result of deviance from the norm.

(I need to write another post about my theory on Nigel's repression / toxic crush on Stede too bc that's fun and fucked up lol)

So I guess that's why I loved that Mary described Stede in the end as "finally free". For all intents and purposes the old Stede Bonnet we knew is dead now. As difficult to watch as most of his return home was, it was a necessary final step in his personal growth to see the true results of his own actions and not just those he's been gaslit into believing all his life so that he continues to play the role designated to him.

Stede Bonnet can now go forward in his story confident in the knowledge that yes, he does destroy things. He breaks chains and cycles of abuse and toxicity. He encourages others to want more for themselves and from the world they've been given, regardless of what the status quo deems they deserve.

#ofmd #stede bonnet #stede bonnet appreciation hours #blackstede #blackbonnet #edward teach #izzy hands #dizzy izzy iggy the spewer

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everafterkeiji · 3 years

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Hi can i request a hcs for itadori,megumi and gojo react to their s/o death?.

Please Feel free to ignore this request if its triggering or u don't feel like writing it! Thank you<3

i love angst requests so it's really okay with me! thank you so much for requesting (ngl i did cry thinking abt yuji) and i hope u have a lovely day even if this was incredibly sad

𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇

PAIRINGS: JJK BOYS x gn!reader

CHARACTERS: Itadori Yuji, Megumi Fushiguro, & Gojo Satoru

WORD COUNT: 2.7K

WARNINGS: heavy angst, character death, mentions of blood and panic attacks, as well wounds and bruises. mentions of Shibuya arc/implied location in Shibuya during that arc.

⟡ 𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐈 eyes dared to erase the sight ahead of him, his body was frozen—every sense began to fail for its purpose and nothing else was responsive except for the shout of your name that echoes through the battle field, the level of immensity to his voice that covers his throat with pain as every pace towards you was a step leading to a waste of a second that terrifies him the more his being tugged away by his own fears.

Dropping to his knees, he was numb to the sensation of the ache overwhelming his legs while he craddles you in his arms as every part of him shook with uncertainty, his hands didn't have the courage to hold you with as much as strength as he should've.

"..Y/N?" He whispers, a croak to his voice as if it was barely alive with droplets created from his sorrow began to trail down your cheek whilst your blood paints his hand in a hue he never expected to come from you. His mind was in the midst of being empty to a havoc that wanted to deny every rage in his system so he could love you even if he could tell how your chest wasn't rising the way it was supposed to do.

"Love?" Yuji calls out one more time as your eyes flutter subtly, signalling him not even an assurance for your state. His hand falls to your cheek, not caring if he couldn't hold you weakly because what matters more is that you held onto him. He painfully leans his forehead on yours, a loud sob escaping him with a struggle to catch up with his breath.

"Don't let me go, don't ever leave me, I beg of you, God!" He shouts as the gods grow concerned of the boy whose heart was wrecked to every piece as the sky began to cry with him. "Save them— God— Please! Stop taking everyone that I love and let me come with them." He begs, as he pulls you more as if the distance could've helped him better because even when you were close to him, he knew you were already at the farthest place that he couldn't reach. All that could be heard from him were screams where he forfeited ever begging for your life when everyone around seems to follow in your path.

"I'm so sorry, my love." Itadori confesses, arms tight around your figure as every beat of his heart began to die with you when all the seconds that he seemed to waste without you by his side began to haunt him. If he had gotten there sooner, maybe then he could've reminded you one more time that you were the energy—the surviving light in his life for him to exist without being told of his faith.

"I love you—so much so please remember that even when you're away." He couldn't even explain how his words manage to fall in such a manner, he could've sworn a second ago he only wanted to let time freeze so he could deny the view of your lifeless body that he miserably failed to save from the hands of death.

"I promise you, in the end, I'll be with you soon, Y/N." Itadori places a delicate kiss to your forehead, having no courage to leave the contact of your skin to his as his eyes went with the rain that poured over the two of you. He intertwines one of his hands with yours, shivering at the temperature he faces but with the other hand, he rests it on his cheek. Maybe if you looked at him now, you'd want him to smile because if you were the source of his reason to exist, Yuji's smile was the one to let your hearts worries disappear but sadly, the source has been removed from him and nothing else in the world could ever bring the joy in his smile no more.

"All I've ever wanted to do was to love you, so I hope you're willing to wait because when I see you.. I'm gonna embrace you with everything I've got," He then kisses the hand intertwined to his before he achingly pull his hand away and the regret closing on him but he had no other choice.

"And love you again and again, Y/N. Always and.. forever—like what we promised." Yuji, as torturous it was to let you go, he sets your hand that was on his cheek to your chest just like he did with the other before he ends his goodbye with a lasting kiss to your cheek.

"Stop crying, Yuji! C'mon smile for me, will you? I didn't come here to see you all gloomy."

And with the remaining memories left for him, it began to be the weak strings for his heart to compose itself because if he knows one thing that you hated, it was the sight of him crying.

So he smiles, the everlasting wish of yours being granted even if his body was corrupting as the love of his life enters a new realm where forever was possible for the both of you.

"We'll meet again, my love."

As he stood up, he hesitates to turn his back on you but once he does, the sun never looked the same to him ever again.

⟡ 𝐌𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐌𝐈 encounters a feeling that he's been through before—a course of emotions that has his body in a tight hold but now, it seems the hold on him was deadlier than the first time. Your name had left his lips, draining him of his exhaustion to run to you before you could fall, every fiber in his body was holding on to his fear. He didn't need to feel the ache in his legs that were covered in wounds because his mission was for you to perfectly land in his arms even if he had to risk getting more injuries.

His heart began to pace in frantic pace when he catches you, there wasn't a split second of joy that entered him just because he made it in time. Instead, his eyes widen in trauma at the sight of your dull eyes that looked above to the heavens sky.

"Hey—hey!" He shouts, trembling hands feeling every bit of your skin and ends with it down to your cheek. "Talk to me—anything, please!" Megumi pleads as a drop of your blood that came from your forehead started to flow onto his skin. He gulps with his breathing unable to coordinate with him as his head frenetically looks up, any sign of help could've been the better reach but they were just in the mere corner of a building in Shibuya.

"Y/N? Please say something." He whispers, furiously wiping his tears while he despises the warmth of your blood that paints his hands. "C'mon please, let me hear your voice one last time." He sobs on your shoulder, embracing you with every corrupting piece of his heart, looking for a beat from your rather cold ones. His hands go to your hair, caressing it so lightly that he felt it resembled glass from how careful he was. Your head was buried in his neck, eyes barely awake for him to ever find that heartbeat.

"I love you, did you hear me?" Megumi says, gulping in the grief. "Say it back to me like you always did, please?" He doesn't know that begging would've been his lasting choice—maybe someone up above would take some time to listen to his pleads and eventually bring the life to his lovers body once again for you to say you love him back a thousand times more.

"Hug me one more time, will you? You told me you loved to do that." He desperately wishes your arms could just return to the place he loved, wrapped around his neck as his hands were to be on your waist or to your cheek with a smile to your lips. Unfortunately, your arms were covered in their own bruises—latched with dark purple hues and tints of red from the debris of buildings and cursed spirits.

"We have to go, Megumi!" One of the sorcerers shout, he didn't even have the time to decipher who it belonged to but he sniffles, reaching for his phone typing a quick message to the others to be able to take you out of this place with somewhere more deserving of a beauty that has passed.

"I'm not going to say goodbye because I know you'll always be with me, right Y/N?" He takes your hands, placing it on your chest on top of each other as his tear lands on your temple. He softly wipes it away before he kisses your forehead, closing his eyes shut at his misery.

"I wish I could've saved you. I really wish I did." He sobs, forehead in tact with yours but he seems to receive a sensation to his body at the wind that came his way.

"You've saved me the minute you met me, my love." You wish you could've whispered to him but he took it as the wind was the only embrace he'll ever get now.

"And you saved me too." Panda walks in to this horrid scene as he feels the sympathy rush to him. Megumi looks up at him with the liveliness dying along with you as your lover delicately holds your cheek one last time before kissing you on your temple muttering one more time,

"I love you always."

Standing up was the second hardest thing he had to do because turning his back to you came at first as his knees threatened to fall but alas, he has to do continue on because that's what you would've wanted right?

"I love you, Megumi. I'll be here waiting for you."

And the upcoming battles for him to face were laced with rage and the never ending bitterness that love seemed to haunt him with.

⟡ 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎's phone rang as while he stops to stare at the caller. It was odd for him to receive a phone call from Megumi at this hour but he supposed it was probably for some guidance since they were sent to a mission. Being aware of their location, he didn't hesitate to transport as fast as he could to get there but there's this calling to him how it wasn't bound to be what he expected.

Panting heavily, Megumi ran with life on the line as he carried you in his arms without the ability to pace your breathing the same as his.

"GOJO-SENSEI!" He shouts with every power in his lungs the second Gojo had appeared, who stood stunned at the boy who was approaching him with a familiar figure.

"Y/N?" Satoru says, uncertain of what he just saw but when Megumi reached him, out of his breath as Nobara and Itadori followed behind him. His student places you in your lovers arm as he kneels down with a hand to your chest, alarmed at how your heartbeat was nowhere near notice. Fushiguro could see the worry in the mans eyes as he bites his lip in sympathy before telling the two to spare a moment for the so called strongest sorcerer who was now on his knees for only one person.

"We saw them being followed by a cursed spirit but they led Y/N to a trap." Megumi briefly explains as Gojo could only spare him a nod as your eyes would flutter once a while as the three students let them be.

"I warned you, didn't I?" He says, a low whisper as your hand weakly reach for his blindfold while Gojo's own rhythm of a heartbeat began to ache. Once he felt how you raised it with a cough of blood spoiling his uniform as his expression grow more frantic with every second.

"Hey there, pretty. You mind staying with me for a little longer?" He asked as if your ears were as attentive as it were before when his eyes stared back at your dazed ones. You didn't respond which was troubling him, what more was that your hand immediately dropped to your chest when he finally looked at you. A shakey sigh leaves Gojo while he rose, ready to fly you anywhere as long as you promised to stay.

"A little more please, can you do that for me?" He begs of you but instead, your head fell unconsciously in his arms with the threat of your eyes to close before he could ever look at you again, not too mention the flow of blood that came from your stomach that didn't seem to stop. He hasn't had the confidence to look at your body before because the fear on Megumi's face made him certain of how the damage had been rough on you. Up this close, he can see two massive wounds to your lower body as well as scratches on your forearms with some bruises on your wrist, hinting how their grasp on you was too strong compared to someone who was powerless.

The hue of his eyes appear to be less saturated than before and for the first time in the life of the honored sorcerer, his heart was irreparable and no amount of technique can reverse the way love his love for you had been the fault for your end.

Unknown to his own senses, his tears fall to your cheek as he pulls you closer like an embrace that didn't bring him his usual amount of comfort.

"Satoru, stop messing around!" You said as he spun you around, tight arms around his neck as he flew in the air, not bothering to listen to your protests of putting you down.

"I won't let you go, how could I ever do that to you?" He assures you, with his own arms tied to your waist with a bright smile on his face.

"And if I fall?" You asked him, glancing at the heights below you but Gojo only tucks a piece of hair behind your ear as you looked at him with the sun in your eyes since two lovers were up in the sky to reach for the clouds.

"I'll be there to save you."

But where was he when you fell from the skyscrapers?

"You hate me, I'm sure." He says biting his lip in agony as he buries his head to your chest, silent sobs and unsteady breaths coming from the sorcerer.

"I love you so much." Satoru breathlessly said. The head that was once on your chest began to move away when he heard nothing more than the silence that came from your heart. They were out to get you, how stupid was he to let you out of his sight just for a second? Maybe then he could've danced with you one more time, up in the sky for the two of you to conquer the heights of being in love.

"I'm so sorry, darling." He then kisses the side of your lip as his feet met in contact with the floor as the rest of the Jujutsu tech as Shoko lets out a saddened sigh.

"Wait for me okay? I'm not done loving you yet." He whispers to you one last time while he hands you over to Shoko as Megumi spares him a glance to notice how wretched his mentor looked.

"I have some things to do." Gojo announces, withstanding the grief to plot revenge to the ones who took you away from him as the rest didn't bother to object knowing there was no possible way to stop a man who had lost the love of his life in revenging your death. He disappears in a split second as the rest of the students didn't notice the tears that kept flowing from the person they look up to.

How can he be the strongest when he failed to protect his only weakness?

Until then, Gojo Satoru could only look at the sky to remember you since his infinity that he swore was to be spent with you died in his arms along with his lover.

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bizarrebaby · 3 years

Text

Untouched

Pairing: Pero Tovar/Virgin!Reader

Work Count: 3.2k

Summary: You and Pero spend your first night together, which is your first night with anyone.

Warnings: you guys have penis in vagina sex. Some descriptions/mentions of violence, reference to painful loss of virginity, but we all know Pero’s too good to do that to you

You were a walking contradiction. Nothing was more confusing or intriguing to Pero Tovar than how you managed to exist in these times.

When he’d been introduced to you (it was generous to call it an introduction, seeing as Tovar more or less refused to acknowledge you at the time) he saw you the way he saw most everyone: an annoyance at best, a punishment from god at worst. When he glanced at you, he saw just a little thing, a girl who ought to be at home, out of her depths.

He first beheld your beauty through a veil of bloodshed. On the battlefield you had no equal. People throughout his travels often equated grace to beauty, but in observing you, Pero found that simply wasn’t so. You did not dance with the blade, like twirled silk. What you did was not akin to dancing. It was heavy and destructive, you took to you enemies with the crushing force of a mortar and pestle. You wielded the heavy and challenging kanabo, the force of which caved armor and shattered bones, man and beast alike. When you swung the heavy bat, you looked as a healer pounding medicine. The force itself was destructive, but it was delivered with the righteousness of someone who was preserving life.

You could not always use the kanabo, and you most certainly could not spar with it, for your opponents would be crippled by even a sporting blow. So Tovar sometimes saw your prowess with the sword, the staff, anything nearby. You made many an arrogant man eat their words.

Now, when he was to imagine a beautiful woman, he did not think of flowing locks and fair skin wrapped in silks. He saw sword-cut hair, an oversized tunic, the loosening laces on leather armor.

And beyond the fighting, you did not often make with revelry. Tense in the company of most others in your band of mercenaries, you kept away when they became excited. When you approached him, scowling as he wolfed down his food alone, he dreaded having to endure niceties, persuasions, and prattel from you, and had already decided to be as disagreeable as possible. To his utter surprise, you said nothing to him at all as you kept a couple of meters distance and ate your own meal. You did so day after day, and at first he had been paranoid that this was some plot at inching your way closer, that one day you would ruin this silence and reveal your true intentions. Until one night, Tovar found himself doing something unthinkable: initiating conversation. Or at least, speaking unprompted.

“You do not chatter like the others,” he stated almost mindlessly, not knowing what he was expecting by saying so.

“I try not to talk when I have nothing to say,” you admitted. You looked towards him, half illuminated by the distant, flickering fire.

He found himself studying every detail of your face from the corner of his eye. It was terrifying, for once wanting to observe and actually caring if he was noticed doing so.

“And,” you continued quietly, “they say you do not like to be disturbed.” That was a very kind way of rephrasing how he was often spoken of. In all likelihood, what you were actually told was probably more along the lines of ‘he’s a mean, miserable bastard who doesn’t like anyone’. Tovar didn’t know how he felt about your twisting such words into something that sounded… reasonable.

Understood.

“I don’t like being disturbed either.”

Now, when he was to imagine a beautiful woman, he did not think of lip rouge and silent, unnoticed steps, or curled, dark lashes, of coquettish smirks. He thought of a split lip, and the uneven pace of worn leather kicking at stray pebbles, of tired eyes rubbed with the back of the hand after looking into the fire too long, of the struggle to hold back a wide-mouthed yawn.

Through a few well placed miracles and the incessant meddling of others (William) the two of you had ended up together. And this was when Pero discovered what a contradiction you were.

You knew death in every facet… except for la petite mort.

While other girls snuck off with their paramours in experimental forays of intimacy, you were studying the blade, the staff, the bow, the kusarigama. Raised by a father and uncles who loved you, but did not know how to raise a young lady. Only how to raise a fighter.

When you didn’t scare off any potential suitors, they certainly did.

While younger than Pero, you were still fully grown, and had yet to even kiss a man until Pero had claimed your lips in a passionate fury on the night of his confession.

Pero did not fancy himself a teacher, he saw himself as a taker, one with no patience for uncertainties and incompetence. But for you, he would be anything. And regardless of what he was, what you deserved was a gentle touch. Subtle, comforting, patient, and understanding.

All words that had never been used to describe him.

Over time, the kisses grew deeper, the touches flirted further beneath the clothes, until the night came where he held you against him in his bed, eyes begging for more as you looked to him for guidance. Never had he been so frightened at the thought of bedding a woman. He was a scoundrel with hands only fit for killing, and he was terrified of hurting you somehow.

But he’d be damned if anyone else took this honor.

With every piece of clothing he stripped your body of, you looked at him with such trust. He felt your heart beating in his rough palms, like the flutter of a bird’s wings. Never before had he been responsible for something so pure, so delicate. His relations before you were intimacies he had paid for in coin, encounters that didn’t require any gentleness on his part, where he cared little about any pleasure or pain besides his own. If he were to do one thing in his life with tact and delicacy, it would be this, he promised himself.

“Tell me again, hermosa, how many before me have seen this beautiful body?”

“N-none. You’re the first, Pero.”

He hums in satisfaction, running his hands up your stomach to cup your breasts. His thumbs stroke over the hardening peaks, causing a hitch in your breath as you shudder.

“Oh, mi conejita, so sensitive,” he descends, taking a nipple in his mouth and sucking almost harshly for just a moment before pulling away, admiring how your breast shines with his spit. You squeak out a shaking moan. “I wonder if you’re this sensitive everywhere else? Don’t tell me. I’ll find out myself.”

You feel your cheeks heat at his words, feeling the urge to curl in on yourself and hide. But Pero keeps you bare to him as he lavishes eager attention on your breasts, enjoying the whines half-caught in your throat. By the time your nipples are perked and wet from Pero’s hot mouth, your blush has spread down to your collar. He pulls away slightly, gently guiding you to lay down. He takes your thighs in his strong hands and spreads them further apart. His thumbs spread your lips so get a good look at your pink, silky hole twitching with a need you’ve never known before.

Your breath hitches as one of his fingers traces along your sensitive lips, brushing against your clit briefly before beginning to sink into you slowly. He rocks it back and forth gently while admiring the rise and fall of your chest, the way your eyelids flutter as you go between wanting to watch and being too bashful to. His thumb gently strokes your clit as he works to ease in another finger, and you tense harshly at the new intrusion. He leans down to press a few reassuring kisses against your neck.

“Relax, querida. Let me in.” He whispers, moving his lips to your mouth in an effort to distract you as he coaxes you open. His cock was heavy and hard against the laces of his trousers. You would see it soon, but Pero doesn’t want to overwhelm you. Not yet, anyways.

You breathe deeply in an attempt to relax your muscles as Pero’s fingers reach farther than yours ever could, and it feels as if he holds all of your bodily feelings in the palm of his hand. He continues to coo endearments against your neck to comfort you.

“Bueno, bueno… you’ve gotten nice and wet for me, cariño, so good for me,” a smirk spreads across his face as he feels you tighten with his words. “Oh, you like it when I talk, niña?” He teases, increasing the pace as he pumps his fingers in and out of you, the tight circles he’s rubbing into your clit on the verge of driving you mad.

He parts from your neck to take a look at your face in pleasure, and finds himself enraptured by the slight furrow of your brows and the way your eyelids flutter when he strokes the right part of your insides. Your quiet huffing and mewling, combined with the way your cunt is gripping at his fingers, has him more riled up than he’d like to admit.

“Pero, I-I I think I’m gonna cum,” you whine, looking at him with pleading eyes. He bristles with pride as your hips move to meet the palm of his hand while chasing the pleasure he gives you.

“Cum then, muñeca. Cum for me.”

The coil in your belly winds so tightly it snaps, and white hot pleasure floods your system. Pero groans as you cream on his fingers, feeling his cock throb harshly for the umpteenth time tonight. A tremor wracks your body as the mercenary continues rocking his fingers gently to help you ride out your climax. When they withdraw, he doesn’t hesitate to lick them clean, much to your embarrassment. The sight of his tongue against your slick on his hand gives you… ideas. Ideas that will have to wait until another night, maybe.

He leans down to plant a chaste kiss to your lips before bringing you to sit up. He wants to see what else you’ve never done. Wants to know how curious you are.

Pero places one of your hands (which feel so small in his) against the tent in his pants, encouraging you to explore his body the way you’ve so graciously allowed him to explore yours. His tunic is already off, but of course, you’ve seen men shirtless before. His cock feels hot and hard through his trousers, and the apprehension is probably clear on your flustered face, but Tovar finds this entire situation incredibly arousing.

He’s no stranger to sex, but most of his previous sexual encounters had been paid for and, thusly, were with experienced (and sometimes jaded) partners. Though the size of his cock may have impressed a few, it had never been the first they’d seen, touched, or taken. This was different.

His eyes never leave your face as you bite your lip, occasionally looking to him for approval as you move to undo the laces on his trousers. His eyes are lidded and dark with desire, and a smile crosses his face, a little more genuine than the usual smirks he throws in your direction.

“Go on,” he urges, more gently than he knew himself capable. You finally slip down his waistband and smallclothes, and his cock lands heavy against his stomach as he reclines just slightly. You try to contain your startled gasp, attempting to seem less like the blushing virgin you clearly are. The way your lips part ever so slightly as you examine his red, leaking cock with nervous interest sends the mercenary reeling.

Pero almost takes your hesitance as fear, which he’s determined to quell, before you finally reach your hands out to run them along the hard length, drawing a ragged groan from him.

For a moment, Pero feels the strongest compulsion to take charge of you. To guide your head down and order you to get his cock nice and wet before he takes you, to see tears prick at your eyes while you struggle to take his cock in your little mouth.

But, somewhat regrettably, he remembers his first time with a woman well. He remembers the nerves burning against his skin like a thousand needles, the fear of performing well and doing things he’d never even imagined doing. He can only imagine that fear to be tenfold for a girl. You’ve spent years in the company of brash mercenaries, uncouth enough that they brag of their rough, bruising conquests. He knows the type. And what women you do meet often speak of intimacy with dread, or reflect on the pain of their first times.

You are one of the few things in Pero Tovar’s life that he has ever really cared for. And his greatest wish is to make you feel cared for. He has never known patience. But for you, he shall have it in spades. You’ll have plenty of time to play rough later. Or never, if that’s what you want.

Not to mention, he’s just about as hard as he’s ever been in his entire life, and he doubts he would last in your mouth, not with the passionate stare you’re giving him. You have, after all, always been a quick learner when it came to the sword. The way you start experimentally moving your hands along his cock confirm this, as he sighs in pleasure from the light pressure you’re giving him.

“This the first cock you’ve seen up close, hermosa?” you nod, and that teasing smile is once again set on his face. “What do you think of it?”

Your eyes widen just slightly at the question. He takes one of your hands and spits in it before letting you continue to stroke his cock, still patiently awaiting an answer.

“Are they all… like this?” Pero has a feeling he knows what you mean, but he wants you to say it.

“Like what, preciosa?”

“Big.”

He chuckles quietly before cupping your chin in his hand and bringing you towards him for another bout of fervent kisses. In these moments, and most others, he looks at you and sees everything he’s ever wanted. He presses his forehead to yours when he finally parts from your lips.

“No, amor, not all,” he pauses in thought, somewhat uncharacteristically. “Are you worried?”

“...Yes.” The mercenary appreciates your honesty. For your entire life, you have had to be brave. He doesn’t want you to have to be brave with him. He’s never been trusted with something as precious as you. He calls your name with the same softness he feels for you.

“I will never hurt you,” he promises. “And…” his need causes him to struggle with the next part. He’s still not used to being sensitive, not used to caring so much. “We do not have to do this.”

Pero can see the fire ignite in your eyes, that same passion he sees when you get up right after being knocked down.

“I want to, Pero, I want to. Will you take care of me?” his eyes have their own fire now. He guides you down onto your back once again and leans over you. His cock leaks against the soft skin of your belly as he kisses up your neck, sucking in marks as he goes.

“Forever,” he swears.

Pero hoists himself up to look into your eyes as his cock catches at your entrance for the first time. He pushes himself in just barely, giving you a little more each time as he shallowly rocks into you. He watches, feeling lovestruck, as your breasts rise and fall with each short breath you take as he eases himself deeper into your heat.

When Pero Tovar met you, he didn’t exactly respect you, but he wouldn’t have called you soft. You proved quickly that you were a better warrior than most men he’d met, and despite the roughness and inconveniences of mercenary life, you didn’t complain. In those early days, he’d have scarcely called you a woman at all.

But here you were beneath him, soft and warm, and everything he’d never imagined he could be trusted with. Long ago you reached your hands into his hardened chest, with all of its armor, and gripped his heart with all of the hope and reverence of a devout finding comfort in a rosary. The vice of your wet cunt on his cock was an extension of that. An inescapable binding that he had no desire to leave.

“You feel so good, querida, so tight and perfect against my cock.”

And so you pant, looking cherubic against the sheets with your splayed hair and flushed cheeks, lips plumped from Pero’s incessant kissing. The wet noises coming from between the two of you are obscene, and you love it.

“So good for me, amor, taking everything I have to give you.”

He wouldn’t last long. Not waiting as long as he has, not with you looking, sounding, and feeling the way you do. His thrusts aren’t punishing, but they sure as hell aren’t gentle, as he can only restrain himself from wrecking you for so long. And from the way he’s hitting that place inside that makes you sing, you won’t last either.

“Pero, I’m gonna— mmm I’m gonna cum again!” You keen, calling him back from his animalistic fervor. Pero stares into your eyes with a fire roaring behind his gaze.

“I want you to soak my cock, hermosa. Cum. Give me your pleasure, let me make you mine!”

“God— oh, fuck, I love you—“ you pant as he feels you clench deliciously around him. Any hope he had of holding on has fled now.

“Mi amor, let me cum in you, please, querida—“

“Please, do it Pero,”

You can feel the skin of his hips slap against yours as he pistons himself in and out of you, babbling about how beautiful you are and how good you feel until he can’t stand it anymore.

“Te amo, te amo, te amo!” He growls, ceasing his hips as he fills you with everything he has. You jolt at the sensation before relaxing again, his hot cum painting your walls. His elbows stop him from collapsing right onto you, but he can feel your breasts brush against his chest with every breath the both of you take.

He basks in this moment for a while longer before pulling himself out gently, resolving to clean the both of you properly later. Pero lets himself fall beside you in bed, still breathing a little heavily.

“Come here, querida.”

Pero stares at the ceiling as your weight comes to rest against his chest, warm in ways he cannot describe. The arm around you tightens, as if he wishes to pull you further into him.

“Are you… do you feel alright, mi amor? I didn’t hurt you?”

“Never, Pero. I feel wonderful. Was it ok? For you, I mean. I know I’m… you’re probably not used to being with someone so inexperienced,” you trail off, feeling palpably insecure. He gently puts his hand beneath your chin to coax you into looking up at him from his chest.

“You don’t have to be anything more than what you are to be perfect for me, amor.”

Taglist:

Pedro Pascal: @auty-ren

From the preview post: @josepedropascal @tintinwrites @computeringturtle @kiwi-the-first

#nsft #writing #drabble #the great wall #pero tovar #pero x reader #pero tovar x reader #tovar x reader #tovar the great wall #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader

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