#because truly what is more cruel? to force some part of me to take on the responsibility for all the things i didnt want to do

[moonrisecoeur]

okay but like imagine a bully leon that's actually so subby when things get real…. like idk what it is but there's really something about guys that look kinda dom on the outside actually being really submissive on the inside… Imagine some kind of high school or even better, college AU where Leon's kind of an asshole to you first semester, and then you scheme with your friends to get revenge … just not the way he expected or smth, maybe at some cliche party you end up one on one with him and after some kind of heated confrontation you make your move, and even though his bully side tries to resist, his subby side pops out and he eventually gets reduced to a begging, sobbing mess. And you just mistreat him so well, he gets all clingy and pathetic by the end of it, all whiny, and you're almost rough with him, getting him so needy and then forcing him to apologize so much and beg, and acknowledge idk something like he was wrong, you're the best, etc, he needs you

I think this would work maybe with RE2 Leon the best, but RE4 leon possibly? There's really just something about RE2 leon being subby and RE2 leon being a really bratty bully type But yeah smth like brat taming with leon or something!! Maybe even spanking if he was that much of an asshole lmaoooo

(sorry if this sent twice i was having issues with tumblr)

this is a wonderful concept and all but be so for real my guy leon could not be a bully. especially re2 and re4. he’s too sweet and gentle to ada in re2 and ashley in re4 to ever truly bully someone.

buuuuuuuuut since u already got this idea so flushed out i might as well add to it!! sorry this isn’t as long as i’d like to to be i couldn’t really think of anything else to add!!

sub!bully!leon x slight mean dom!reader, no pronouns used, afab body parts mentioned.

leon likes your attention and feels like the only way he can get it is to be mean. the first time you both met, you didn’t realize he was trying to talk to you and just walked past him (with like earbuds in and stuff) and he was so heartbroken.

so every time he sees you in class he’ll be rude and abrasive, calling you insulting nicknames and stuff. he kinda likes the face you make when you get mad, the way your eyebrows furrow and your eyes stare sharply at him.

he’s also kinda mean to your friends because to him they’re an extension of you.

at this party, he’s been drinking, not too much because he’s cautious but enough to where he’s not completely sober. you as well.

you both start arguing when he bumps into you and knocks your drink out of your hand. he says a lot of cruel things that make your heart ache slightly. he’s so needlessly mean that you’re getting fed up with taking his shit.

you take a step closer to him, finally willing to do more than stand your ground, but actually fight back, “do you just want me to hate you that damn bad, leon? because you really seem to enjoy pissing me off.”

his body feels weak at your cold tone of voice. he’s suddenly not the evil, monstrous man that made fun of you, embarrassed you, called you names, talked down to you. he tries to keep up his front, but you see it cracking.

“i know you like it,” he says, “like it when i’m mean to you, don’t you? you want me to call you names and make fun of you, kinky bitch.”

you scoff, looking away from him. he couldn’t be more wrong.

“what? you think i’m wrong? prove it to me, prove that you don’t like me like this. show me that you’re worth anything more than being the dirt beneath my—”

“shut the fuck up, leon,” you groan as you come closer to him. it’s what he was afraid of, and god you’re so close to him… he’s worried he might explode from nerves. your hand presses against his chest as you push him away, and then suddenly, you’re up against him, he’s pressed against the wall, and your hand is back on his chest.

“uh, i.. i—” he says.

“what’s wrong? lost the ability to speak?” you ask him rhetorically, smirking, “you did get something right, i am a kinky bitch. just the wrong kind.”

“what?” he asks breathlessly. he looks like he’s about to pass out, face red, hands shaking. you would want to soothe him if he wasn’t such an asshole, “wrong kind?”

your hand on his chest drops to his crotch, groping him over his jeans, and he fucking whimpers. already. you come to the realization that leon kennedy, the bastard who’s been torturing you for months on end, is a fucking sub. good god.

“wait wait wait… hold on… i- what are you doing?”

your smirk grows, your breaths and sighs are satisfied, contented with holding him here, watching him stutter and whimper, “awh, i will admit. you’re much cuter when you’re not using that mouth to be rude. much, much prettier…”

his face is already red, his ears too. he looks messy, fragile, adorable.

“p-please,” his voice breaks, and you know you’ve won.

—

“stupid, stupid boy, thinks he can be mean to me? messed with the wrong girl,” you say, patronizingly soothing as you run your fingers through his hair, his cock buried inside of you as he hides his face in the crook of your neck and shoulder, “you should say sorry, baby, for what you did to me.”

“fuck, i- i’m sorry, okay? i’m sorry about what i said to you a- and your friends! i’m sorry!”

you scoff, “no, you know that’s not good enough, try harder. tell me how pathetic and dumb you are.”

he whines, his lips pressing against your neck sweetly as an apology, and as a way out of giving you a real one. he grasps onto your body like you’re his only anchor to stability and sanity.

you try to coax him out of his shyness and get him to tell you all the things you want him to say, “c’mon sweetheart, you gotta tell me. tell me how mean and degrading and cruel you were to me, just to be my stupid, obedient boy after i flipped it on you. the second i was a little mean to you, you completely gave in to me, didn’t you?”

“y-yeah, i… i’m sorry, i know i haven’t been- ah, good for you, but please let me be. give me a chance to be good, please. i can be good.”

you just laugh, clearly annoyed with him, “stupid fucking thing, thinks he can make me forgive him by begging to give him the grace he never gave me. you will have to earn your forgiveness, baby.”

he whines, “can i please fuck you? please? i’ll show you how good i can be, how good i can make you feel, i’ll so whatever you say i promise!!!”

“no, sweetheart, you’re going to sit still. you’re going to cry and weep and sob about how sorry you are, about how much better i am than you, how you don’t deserve me or my pussy, and how badly you need me to treat you like you’re nothing.”

#i’m sorry if this makes no sense #can u tell i have no experience being bullied 😭 i’m so sorrry to anyone who has #this concept isn’t really my vibe so i’m sorry if i didn’t do it justice :/ #sub leon kennedy #leon kennedy smut #resident evil smut #sub leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy resident evil #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy #resident evil

[savannahsdeath]

hiii I love your work! could you pretty please do some toxic ellie? :)

TOXIC!ELLIE WILLIAMS X READER

mdni please<3

summary: a miserable attempt to leave your toxic girlfriend

warnings: preferably 18+, just lots of toxic shit, manipulating, reader is crying

writers note: probably the only toxic post you'll see on my profile. honestly, i dont even know why i wrote this and im posting it just for the anon. i dont support any toxic behavior, cuz even a simple fanfic can bring some harm. dont read it if youre sensitive to such topics and if you decide to read it, dont romanticize it and dont blame me for any bad feelings you felt while reading - youre responsible for your own media consumption, im not forcing anyone to read. as i said, i just post it for the anon and also because i dont want it to just sit in my drafts (i dont have the guts to delete it). ugh its kinda long but i just want to make sure everyones safe, please take care🩷

you were sitting in your bed with your head buried between your knees for half an hour now, ignoring the buzzing of your phone. you caught her with another girl. you should cry and feel miserable, and all you could think of was; 'finally! finally a reason to leave her!!'. all you could feel was happiness.

but leaving her wasn't easy. you tried a few times before.

'maybe it'll be different this time', you hoped. but the way you kept receiving notifications from her said otherwise. 'maybe if i ignore her for a few more minutes, she'll let me go.'

you tried to put your phone down, but your hands won't let you. your thumbs kept reaching for the screen in a desperate, involuntary action. you were powerless to stop it. you knew you shouldn't respond. you know you should walk away, but you couldn't. every time she messaged you, your heart beated faster and your breathing quickened. you knew this isn't the best thing for you, but a part of you was still clinging to hope.

'enough, stop it.' you ordered to yourself.

you picked up your phone, deciding to call your friend. she'll make you remember all the cruel things ellie did and leaving her will be easier.

your hands were shaking and you were truly scared of what's going to happen. you hestitated for too long before clicking on your friend's profile and.. lost your chance.

ellie was calling you. she wasn't giving up and she was probably pissed off by now.

you sighed and whispered; 'sorry' to your future self, before answering the call.

"why aren't you answering to my texts, huh?" she asked in an accusatory tone, as if you were the one who did something wrong.

your breath hitched as you heard her voice. there's no going back now. "i'm sorry, ellie, it's over." you mumbled and shook your head in disbelief. 'i'm sorry'?? for what? where was your confidence?

she took it from you, just like she's going to take anything she wants.

"i'll pick you up in a few minutes." she announced and you felt tears starting to well up in your eyes.

great. so she's on her way here.

you took a deep breath to stop your voice from quivering. "i'm not going anywhere- not with you."

ellie laughed, thinking it's all a joke. "you're funny, honey. you know you come crawling back to me everytime." she replies calmly. "so get ready. i'm coming to pick you up, and then we can talk about this. like grown-ups."

ellie was good at controlling you. she'll say she's coming to pick you up, and you'll be waiting on your porch when she arrives. she had a firm grip on you and she knew it.

not this time.

"like grown-ups?" you nervously laughed. "you cheated on me. again."

ellie didn't get angry. she wasn't even surprised.

"don't overreact, babe." she replied in an irritated tone. "it's not like it was anything serious. it's just some random girl. i'm still with you. you should know that."

you were stunned by her cavalier attitude. she really thought it's no big deal.

"leave me alone." if there was even a little bit of toughness in your voice before, it all left. now, you were just simply begging her to stop. "please."

ellie's confidence and her nonchalant attitude was getting to you. you felt angry, but at the same time, you were starting to doubt yourself.

you wanted to hang up, but you couldn't. you just waited for her reaction, praying this'll be the end. but you knew everything depended on what ellie wants, and for her, only her own good mattered.

ellie chuckled. "oh, sweetheart. you think you can just break up with me over the phone? we're not even having a fight here. come on, be reasonable. let's just talk this through. i'll be there soon."

you proudly raised your chin, even though she couldn't see that. the tears ruined your confident facade anyway. "i locked the door."

she stayed silent for a moment, not expecting that from you. but she always had a plan b, and you realised that as soon as you heard her laugh. "i'll check that myself."

you heard her car arrive outside your house, and an instant wave of regret washed over you.

she knocked on the front door. "i'm here, love. open up." her voice was gentle, with an apologetic tone.

you knew it was all a ploy to get you to open the door. you knew this was just another manipulative tactic she was using, but it was starting to work.

"come on, be a smart girl." she continued in a sweet voice. "or we'll do this the hard way."

you cursed yourself for how weak you felt, even though it wasn't your fault.

"ellie, please..." you begged, with as much authority as you could muster, but your pleads still sounded weak.

"what's that, babe? are you crying?" she responded in a mocking tone.

you felt powerless to resist her. your stomach twisted in knots, but your fingers reached for the knob. your other hand quickly wiped away your tears, though there were some visible smudges left. you stared at the doorknob in your hand, fighting every instinct in your body to open it and let her in. but you knew she'll get her way, sooner or later. you just wanted to get this over with.

with a shaking hand, you opened the door. you saw that ellie was holding a set of keys - there was definitely one to your house too. she could just unlock the door, but she wanted to check if you'll listen to her. you didn't even want to think about what would happen if you didn't give up.

she walked inside like she owned the place, and she didn't even look at you. she knew she's got you wrapped around her finger.

"good girl." she said, with the same mocking tone.

ellie's eyes darted around the room, and she walked over to take a closer look at a framed photo of the two of you on your shelf. she smirked, letting out a sarcastic 'hmph, so cute'.

you stood there, defeated, as she walked past you and paced around your home. she made herself comfortable, as if she belongs there. you tried to keep a brave face, but she could see right through it.

she sat down and turned to you. "tell me, why we ended up here?" she asked, her voice was cold and unforgiving, but it also sounded curious. "why are you trying to leave me? aren't you happy?"

you felt your lips tremble, as you parted them to speak. "you know damn well what you did."

she stood up and walked up to you, standing right in your face and leaning a little to match your eye level. "fucked another girl? huh? is that it?" she stroked your cheek with the back of her fingers, mocking your pout.

you flinched away from her touch, but she grabbed your face with both hands and pulled you towards her.

"i just had some fun." she said calmly. "besides, you can't blame me for wanting something different. just trying to make up for what you lack." she caressed your face, tracing your lips. it was almost gentle, as if she wasn't even trying to hurt you. but her words cut deep. "now, stop acting like a baby." she let go of your face. "i'm trying to have a mature conversation with you."

the obedient, scared side of you wiped your tears away and straightened up without thinking, but everytime you closed your eyes - everytime you blinked - another wave of salty liquid streamed down your cheeks.

you sniffled and tried to keep it together, but your body was shaking and feeling dizzy. still, you stood your ground.

"please, ellie... i can't do this anymore." you begged in a shaky voice.

"sh, shhh..." ellie wrapped her hands around you, rubbing your hair in a soothing motion. "don't say dumb things. i already know you can't live without me. you know that too." she grabbed you by the shoulders and forced you to look at her for a second. "don't you?"

her embrace felt somehow comforting, not matching the poisoning effect of her words. you clinged onto her, hoping to get as much from this rare moment as possible.

but you knew, deep down, that this is just another manipulation tactic. you shouldn't fall for her games.

"there, there." she whispered to you. she held you even tighter, as if she was trying to absorb every ounce of energy you had left.

she pulled back and looked you straight in the eyes. "do you see what happens when you try to leave me, babe?"

"i am leaving you." you said with as much conviction as you could muster. "i'm serious this time."

but ellie just smiled, treating your words like a joke. "that's funny, honey. this is just another one of your little tantrums. you're just upset because you haven't gotten enough attention these days. but you don't want to lose me." she ran her hands along your cheeks and caressed your hair. "you'll come back to me. you'll come crawling back, just like always. because you can't live without me."

you instantly buried your face in her chest, as she started stroking your back.

she sighed. "are you finished?"

you felt ashamed. you failed, once again. you let her win.

you lifted your head up so you could see her expression. her smile was even more mocking and cruel now that you've given in to her.

"that's more like it, babe." she said with that same condescending tone. she pulled you in for another hug, as if nothing happened. "now, let's forget all about today, okay?" she whispered in your ear. "my pretty girl."

#reqs open #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x you #ellie x reader #ellie x y/n #ellie tlou #ellie the last of us #toxic!ellie #toxic!ellie williams x reader #toxic!ellie x reader #toxic!ellie williams #possesive!ellie

[save-the-villainous-cat]

The villain felt like throwing up. The lightheadedness messed up their perception of reality but instead of asking the hero to stop, they buried their hand in the hero’s hair, pulling gently.

Admittedly, the hero’s lips on the villain’s neck felt good, good enough to ignore the headache and incredible pain. The hero seemed to be too deep into it, acting instinctively instead of thinking about their actions too much. And the villain didn’t want to interrupt that.

As their breathing got heavier, they found themselves in a peculiar position; wishing the hero could do this more often. There was comfort in this pain, in fangs buried deep inside them and the knowledge that the hero needed them to survive. The fact that this was probably one of the few examples of being truly close to someone didn't really help.

Eventually, the hero stopped drinking and with one last lick, parted from the villain.

“You got some…” The villain pointed at the hero’s mouth where blood dropped down their lips and the hero — clean as they were — mumbled an “oh shit” and went over their lips with their tongue.

The villain on the other hand was about to pass out. They grabbed the hero’s wrist as their vision got white and searched for the next best chair to fall into. Thankfully, the couch wasn’t that far.

The sounds they made were embarrassing.

“Hey, are you okay?!” The villain only nodded absentmindedly as they tried to force some oxygen back into their system.

“Yeah, just…just donated blood a few days ago.”

“You what?!” The vampire’s hand was on the villain’s jaw immediately, pushing their chin up until their eyes met. The hero was definitely not pleased. “Then don’t ask me to bite you, please. Why on earth would you do this?”

“I’m sorry,” the villain mumbled. “I wanted you to eat enough.”

The hero shook their head, still evidently angry that the villain had offered their blood.

“Lay down.” The villain did so, still holding onto the hero’s fingers weakly. They didn’t know what they’d done wrong. Didn’t the hero want their blood anymore? Were they jealous that the villain had donated the blood? Did they hate them?

“Your body needs more time than a few days to recover from a donation.” They grabbed the villain’s wrist. “You can’t offer me blood when you’ve recently donated. Did you drink enough water?”

“Hmm.” The villain took in a deep breath. The hero was mad at them, weren’t they? Maybe their blood had tasted a little different? Could a donation do that?

Their head spun and their body turned against them. Pain sparked here and there, making it hard to concentrate.

“Look at me,” the hero said softly. The villain tried their best to focus on them and, unexpectedly, it took them a while. “Your health is more important than this.”

“I’m sorry,” the villain whispered again. The pain in their head was indescribable. A thousand needles breaking through their skull. At least the hero was satisfied — more or less. Every once in a while, they met up and the hero would drink their blood.

The villain’s blood type was Rhnull, the rarest blood type in the world. They didn’t know why but the hero preferred it, not only because of the blood type but also because it was the villain’s. They drank the villain’s blood only.

In return, the hero would turn a blind eye on a few of the villain’s plans. As long as civilians were unharmed.

It left the villain in a lethargic state every time the hero drank from them but that was honestly part of the thrill. It was pathetic, they knew that. Longing for touch, longing for something intimate. Sometimes, the villain suspected that they would take any type of love, any type of affection, even if it was cruel.

They stared at the hero.

They had never been cruel to the villain. Had never used them, had always given them apple juice and chocolate after. One time, the villain was ill and the hero hadn’t cared about the blood. They had only cared about the villain’s fever.

“Why do you prefer my blood?” The headache was really getting to them but they didn’t mind. With the hero’s hand on theirs, they felt invincible.

“Shush. Don’t ask questions, just relax.” The villain smiled. Despite the…absence of their clear thinking, they were rather clever when it came to the hero. They liked to think they knew them better than anyone else. That was just wishful thinking, though.

“You don’t want to answer, that’s fine,” they said.

“It’s not…it’s not that easy.” The hero probably preferred sweet blood and didn’t want to admit it. That was the only explanation the villain had.

But they weren’t sure if all blood types had different tastes.

“I’ll get you some chocolate,” the hero said. “You’re still awfully pale. I don’t like that.”

The back of their hand found the villain’s forehead, as if they were checking for a fever. The villain’s heart seemed to stop beating and their mind was going crazy. God, what was wrong with them today?

It probably was the scary amount of blood loss. They had really, really hoped that their body could handle this a little better. Because being stranded on the hero’s couch wasn’t really the goal.

The hero was almost out of the door but they turned around, looking directly at the villain.

“You’re staying over for the night. No debate, please.” All the blood they had left went to their cheeks. They could only stare at the hero. “Got it?”

The villain nodded and they weren’t sure why they were so excited.

Thank you to @epiclamer who organised everything and thank you to @avvail for the great prompt :)

#this villain doesn’t know anything about blood types #they’re both oblivious btw #writing snippet #heroxvillain prompt #heroxvillain snippet #heroes and villains #hero #villain #hero x villain #heroxvillain #an answer for an ask #request #surrenderanask #hero vampire #vampire x human #human x vampire

[elsa-fogen]

A part of me is like Velvette is definitely dead in your Breakfast AU but another wants her to be alive.

Warning this is kinda long.

Everyone at the hotel heard her screams but they are still shocked when she comes to the hotel she is barely able to understand her surroundings just curled into a ball shaking and crying mumbling “stop please no stop”.

Nothing they say can really get through her to her and I imagine Alastor just disappears soon after assigning her to marketing.

Velvette also looks more akin to a patchwork doll now her skin looking like it was sown back on just as harshly as it was taken off.

This is also sooo interesting because imagine the dynamics.

Vox and Val might not even know Velvette is still alive and still be falling apart at the seems but when they find out they are even more heart broken cause they can’t do anything. If only if they could go to that hotel. All the Vees want to do is to get Velvette back and protect her and fix her up so they can move past all of this but instead they have to watch while they see the Velvette they knew slowly fade farther away. Vox and Val would do almost anything to get Velvette back but know that in order to get her soul back a powerful deal would be needed that meant a huge loss in power. Was Velvette truly worth that much power? Their hearts said yes but they are too afraid to actually act.

Meanwhile the hotel guests are fucking flabbergasted surprised that Velvette is one alive and two that Alastor could do such a cruel thing.

To everyone except Nifty and Husk this is their first time seeing Alastors true cruelty and I think this could be a start of Charlie’s realization of Alastors true colors.

What she does then is kinda up to you.

Does Charlie work to take Alastor down unable to stand his cruelty or continue to work with Alastor as she thinks she needs him. Maybe she reaches out to her Dad to see if he can start to help with the Hotel more.

Maybe she slowly force Alastor to free her friends.

Omg and poor Velvette. Charlie and the others try soooo much to help but she just continues to spiral anytime she sees Alastor and knife and radio anything. Vel sometime gets close to her normal self and that hope for Charlie that maybe she can save Velvette too. The Hazbin gang does everything to try and fix Velvette up too but unfortunately they lack the resources. Vox would have had the money and power to fix Velvette’s body to be less jarring but they don’t have the ability to get good enough doctors at the hotel.

GROWLING AND CLAPPING MY HANDS NOW THIS IS DELICIOUS ANGST

The most interesting part of it all is that how Charlie would react to this all... [SPOILERS WERE CUT OUT AHAHAHHA]

i ALSO have some ideas on what 2/3 Vees can do to save Vel... oh this gonna be interesting!

ALSO!!! thing for this AU, i already thought about it in one other ask, but now it's canon: Alastor is at his full power and he never disappeared, he doesn't have that deal that holds him back, and he really helps the hotel because he bored, also i don't think he has some grand scheme to be played, he just silly little agent of chaos and destruction, true chaotic evil

#Breakfast | Hazbin AU #alastor the radio demon #hazbin alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor #the radio demon #radio demon #hazbin hotel velvette #hazbin velvette #velvette #sudden ask lol

[shiningqueen]

silk rope, soy candles / nsfw mihawk x afab!reader

Honestly, this has lived rent free in my brain for over a week. So please enjoy this self indulgent piece. Rating: NSFW / minors do not interact Pairing: Mihawk x afab!reader Contents: consensual light bondage, light sensory deprivation, waxplay, oral (fem receiving), fingering (fem receiving), biting, PiV intercourse, use of gendered pronouns (fem) and relevant parts. Notes: enthusiastic consent is important. also this is just as fay coded as my other works but none of you should be surprised.

The slide of soft braided rope bites into your wrists as you test the knots, muscles taut in the wake of another whole body shiver of cresting pleasure. You bite down on a throaty whine at the wet lave of a tongue circling your swollen bud. 

Your struggle does not go unnoticed, because the push-pull of euphoria is halted and lanced through by teeth stinging against your thigh. 

“What did I say?” The reprimand of your golden eyed lover is husked against your thigh, his stare is both warning and tease.

Your jaw tenses, “No freeing myself without permission,” but still your shoulders twist slightly against the bindings keeping your hands pinned behind your back. “You’re being cruel,” you accuse, muscles twitching from being denied release twice now.

Mihawk scoffs and slowly rises from where he knelt between your legs, palms like brands as they rest on your thighs and he hovers over you. “Cruel?” He echoes softly, expression predatory as he pushes you firmly to lay back on the bed.

You squirm from the uncomfortable press of your tethered hands into your lumbar, but Mihawk only applies more pressure to dig that discomfort deeper while coming to kneel between your spread thighs. There’s nothing to cover either of you, so there is no mistaking he is just as aroused as you are.

“I should loose these bonds if you’re just going to torture me,” you bite at him impatiently, and he knows you are fully capable of doing so easily. There was no restraint that could hold you - that you let him bind you was an act of trust.

He smirks at your indignation, “You won't,” tone silky as his hand skims up slowly from your navel, over your chest and clavicle before stopping briefly at your throat. Not to grasp you but merely lay his palm there, “but you do not grasp how cruel I can truly be, querida.” Mihawk hisses and in too quick of a motion, the warmth of his touch on your neck is gone - fingers knotting in your hair tightly and pulling to force your spine to curve off the bed.

He holds you taut, head tilted with eyes on the ceiling, so you can only feel how he grasps your hip in his other hand and drags the hot length of his cock through your wet, aching folds. 

The friction forces a moan out of you, frustrated yet simultaneously relieved from the throb pulsing in your core - but gods, the way Mihawk slowly ruts against you is blissful. 

“I can do this,” he emphasizes with a grunt, coating his length in your abundant slick and huffing from the pleasurable jolts the motion brings, “all night. Hold you down and only pursue my own relief.” The threat makes you squirm in his grasp but he holds fast, growling as he tugs on your hair painfully. 

“Behave and we both get what we want,” there’s a breathless quality to his voice despite himself, relishing in the way your hips grind up against his thrusts wantonly. The flex of your muscles beneath sweat beaded skin and the shaky keening sounds you make, even though you try to remain defiant under his control, delight him down to his marrow. 

You still think him cruel. How he leisurely strokes his length through your sex but refuses to bury himself inside you, where you desperately want him most, inner walls clenching around nothing. That gradual build up of pleasure but never close enough to the edge was exquisite torment.

“Please,” you whimper, trembling and Mihawk takes some pity on you by releasing the harsh grip on your hair, allowing you to slump down against the bed. You meet his hungry gaze with an equally heated look, “I’ll play nice for now,” you tease softly.

A chuckle rumbles in his chest as he drapes himself over you, caging you between his arms and nuzzling along your shoulder, lips grazing over the intricate lines of tattoos inked there. “Don’t be so impatient, starling,” he chides lowly and stifles any retort by slotting his mouth over yours. The kiss is deep and heady, tongue pushing past your lips to taste you and muffle your canting moans.

Mihawk’s languid thrusts continue whilst he kisses you, stoking the smoldering arousal in your belly, and it’s difficult to focus on anything else beyond the passionate claim of his mouth and the pulse in your core. Your hands clench beneath you, the longing to touch him was still present.

You’re too distracted to notice him reaching for something, until a strip of cloth is draped gently over your eyes and secured in place with a deft knot. Robbed of your sight, you fall still and exhale slowly to soothe the exciting twist of anxiety and anticipation running wild in your veins. Then Mihawk’s weight is lifted off you entirely and you protest the loss of him, stubbornly keeping your legs locked around his hips.

“You’re being so good for me, little bird,” Mihawk purrs approvingly while skimming his palms over your thighs, lust simmering under his skin as he admires you. This whole ordeal was an exercise in restraint, as every noise and encouraging movement from you wore away at his self control. He ached fiercely to have you but there was such a delicious appeal in drawing it out, luxuriating in the moment.

You thrum with titillation that becomes a euphoric spasm when fingers stroke along your inner thigh and then nimbly part your folds, gasping at the expert touch of digits at your clit. Circling, stroking, then dipping lower to sink into you. You clench tight around the intrusion and relish hearing Mihawk hiss under his breath, pushing his fingers deeper as he leans over you again.

Then you feel heat, a thick droplet of wax landing just above your navel. Even if you had known it would come eventually, it was still a surprise and the flush of new sensation has you tensing. 

In that very brief lapse of contact between you and him, Mihawk had lit a candle and held it steady in his right hand as the flame danced and softened the wax. He kept it aloft while his left worked between your legs, mindful not to let any accidental droplets fall on your flesh after the first. 

“Is it good, amor? Not too hot?” He asks sincerely, stilling the thrust of his fingers to give you a moment to breathe and process.

“I like it,” you assure him quietly, “keep going.” All your senses had grown more acute being sightless, every touch and sound amplified to provocative degrees. The wax had been a vexing combination of not-quite pain and ticklish pleasure.

With your encouragement, Mihawk resumes the gradual movement of his left hand, middle and ring fingers stroking the slick inner muscles of your center, working you up again from that temporary lull. 

It does not take long for you to be gasping and moaning from his ministrations, subtle tremors in your shoulders as you strain against the ropes again. Mihawk doesn't admonish you even if he notices, focusing instead on slowly dripping wax over your soft stomach. He marvels at the way you twitch as the wax lands, sometimes paired with a breathy giggle, how it oozes a few centimeters before cooling entirely; relishes the hitch in your voice each time. It’s viscerally sensual and it makes his arousal all the more poignant.

“Look at you, my pretty songbird,” he croons, voice thick with want as he grinds the heel of his palm against your clit, near grinning as you cry out from a particularly intense jolt of pleasure.

Your teeth lock against another moan as the hot wax beads along your torso and the heady promise of your climax builds, jerking your hips erratically with the pace of Mihawk’s digits. You whine and stutter around his name, uttering broken pleas that he doesnt stop. 

That he does not for a third time's a blessing; you don’t notice that he stops dripping wax when the rushing tide of orgasm breaks over you. A burst of heat and convulsing muscles, arching off the bed with a strangled shout that ebbs into whimpering for how the high slowly ebbs.

Mihawk is almost beside himself with ardent lust, unraveling you in this way that is so vulnerable and tactile is intoxicating. He withdraws from you, fingers coated in your slick and hums approvingly as he licks them clean. The candle, long snuffed out, is set aside and for a moment he traces the patterns of dried wax on your skin as you lay prone.

“Now you may unbind yourself, florecita.” 

Such sweet relief granted to you! Even in your haze, you nimbly loosen your wrists from the soft rope and pull your arms out from beneath you, stretching out languorously over the blankets. The blindfold is removed too just in time to catch Mihawk as he crawls over you, eagerly you reach to embrace him with a fey-like smile tugging at your mouth. You shift your legs to accommodate him settling between them and purr at the hot press of his cock against your inner thigh.

“Next time, I will drip wax on you, while you’re tied up.” You remark playfully, tracing your fingers along the sharp lines of his facial hair.

He rumbles with mirth, the vibration felt deep in your own chest as he presses flush to you, “As you wish, mi vida,” lips tickling at your throat as he wastes no time in rocking his hips forward to enter you. Breath luffed hot and damp over you as he sheathes himself to the hilt quickly, grinding deep and firm to enjoy the wet clench of you around him.

You gasp at being filled so abruptly and shiver, feeling him at every nerve, hooking one of your legs around him for leverage as you match his tempo. Now there is no reason to be slow or careful, you tangle hands into his black hair and pull him into an impatient, ravenous kiss. The groan that vibrates in Mihawk’s throat is nothing short of carnal.

The rhythm builds and the kiss gets messy, open mouths and teeth nipping between grunts and stifled moans. There’s no breath or thought for words, Mihawk chasing his end after having denied himself for so long in the pursuit of yours. He sinks his teeth into the meat of your shoulder with a snarl, the slap of skin on skin briefly drowned beneath your voice rising several octaves in rapturous abandon.

You dig and drag your nails over him, panting hoarsely as air is punched out of your lungs with every thrust, shoulder aching from the bruise forming under his mouth. The pain is only a complement to the pleasure of having him.

Mihawk huffs as he curls over you, hips stuttering as he reaches his limit, trembling from the force of his own climax as he sinks into you with finality. Every thick pulse is timed with a deep roll of his pelvis until the whiteout of orgasm fades and he’s prying his teeth from your shoulder. The indents left behind are kissed tenderly in fatigued apology.

You both sigh and settle, skin to skin and allowing each other’s hearts to ease into steadier patterns. It’s quiet moments of calming touches and featherlight kisses until Mihawk pulls away from your embrace to sit up. 

“Stay,” he says coolly, “I’ll draw us a bath.”

You’re happy to obey, boneless and drowsy on the bed. He collects you shortly thereafter, cradling you in his arms as he carries you to wash and relax in steaming waters. 

You curl against his chest in the bath, dozy like a spoiled cat and softly hum one of his favorite songs as the night wanes on in serenity.

#|lumi's tidbits| #|mine| #one piece scenario #one piece fanfiction #mihawk x reader #dracule mihawk x reader #mihawk x you #dracule mihawk x you

[minsimagines]

stars, part. i

pairing; pro hero!midoriya x f!reader

word count; 2,5k

parts; one, two 

warnings; a little angsty, friends to lovers, mentions of loneliness, mentions of sexual innuendos, reader is pining for his attention, misunderstanding trope. let me know if there are more. 

+ next part will be smut lol. something about soft, big, buff, aged up deku makes me so aaaaghhhh. my requests are open &lt;3

you are invisible. no one sees you. no one wants to see you, because you are simply surrounded by heroes — you’re not truly part of their world.

 you are just you. you’re always where you need to be when you’re needed, you take the messages you need to take, you bring the coffees you’re told to bring, you sit tight in your little cubicle outside of the secretary’s office. 

you are just an assistant of a secretary of someone else’s office, a tiny puzzle piece in the massive labyrinth that made up the world of agencies — especially the one that housed the most popular heroes. a spectator to their grandeur, even if you know all the heroes would be running havoc if not for the likes of the agencies.

you are overlooked.

but he sees you. 

calm, kind pro hero deku who holds the doors for you if you both enter any room in the agency at the same time. curious, shy deku who always greets you with a smile, asking if you’ve slept well. 

big, buff pro hero deku who blushes when he catches you sneaking a glance at him.

he, unlike you, cannot move through the world without being perceived. everyone sees him. he is broad as he is tall, he is powerful, he is handsome, he is a favorite. 

to you — who is nothing but a tiny pillar that could easily be replaced in the agency’s structure — earning the attention of deku meant feeling special. if he noticed you, then there must be something utterly wonderful about you, perhaps something that you don’t even see for yourself. 

unfortunately, you are not the only one who finds his attention rewarding — he is well known, well loved, and people want him. good intentions or not, he is not for you to claim. his friendship with you, at best, is superficial. it is nothing but a bystanders' hope for sudden glory in an otherwise mundane life.

you’ve never wanted to be a hero, and you still don’t, but by the stars, what it would be like if it meant you could be closer to him. him who has become the good in every ‘good morning’. 

nature is cruel in many ways, but none of the reasons have affected you in such a way as this. to be so close to such a star, such wonder and warmth, destined to melt as you reach for it. the more you looked, the brighter it got, and most times the forces at work made you to look away. 

however, as cruel as you found nature to be, it would surprise you by being even crueler.

one day, he didn’t look your way anymore when he felt you looking. you could see he felt your eyes on him, he perked up slightly as though someone called his name, but he would turn the other way. 

he never appeared where you were to hold the doors, your roads seemed to never cross anymore, and if they did then he quietly held it open without looking at you.

he didn’t say much when he walked past your desk. you’d taken to being the one who initiated the ‘good mornings’, and he would reply, but it was in the same way of the others — distant. 

so  you reached away from the glare of the star. you stepped back, you let him be, you looked away. 

your good mornings returned to being simply mornings. 

it hurt more than you wanted to admit. humiliating how some grand hero you didn’t even know intimately had become such a life line. of course, being a lifeline was his job, but you had tucked him away within yourself, buried the tone of his voice in your chest, constantly reminding yourself that you were no longer alone when he was willing to look your way.

how empty and sour your life must be to let a pro hero’s common humility fill the void within you. 

but it stung worse than any paper cut, and you no longer found comfort in being invisible. you wanted to be seen. you wanted him to see you. 

there’s something about sadness and loneliness that will eventually push you to new limits; willing or not.

that’s how you find yourself standing in front of him, looking up at him, meeting his confused, slightly uncomfortable stare with your own horrified and determined glare. 

he’s big. bigger than your memory would allow you to remember. broad shoulders, strong arms, big chest — it almost throws your thoughts away from the objective.

“good morning,” you press as you corner him. 

his lips part slightly, and you look at them. they look soft. pink. you quickly look back up to his eyes. it’s a mistake — you see him looking at your lips as well. 

the confusion and discomfort in his eyes are gone, replaced by some kind of heaviness as they watch your mouth. you can’t read it. however, it makes you draw a silent but sharp inhale, some form of warmth and confirmation lingering in the space of that breath. confirmation of what, you can’t understand in those quick moments, but something in the way he towers over you, the way he seems to almost want to cage you away from the world, sends a shiver across your skin, littering you in goosebumps. 

this feeling makes it seem freezing cold to stand straight without touching something, and he suddenly looks awfully inviting with his skin tight hero suit. 

you swallow thickly as his eyes find yours again, snapping out of his trance. your mouth feels extra wet now, thinking of how his hands might feel against your body.

“good morning,” he says, and his voice is hoarse, as though there’s emotion lodged in his throat. 

you don’t allow yourself to think too far into it, even if the back of your mind latches onto every bit of information it can haul out of his stiff body language. 

“is it?” you ask slowly, brows furrowing softly. 

“is it… what?”

“a good morning?”

“i…” he trails off, brows lowered as his eyes shift between both your eyes and your lips in a dizzying triangle. “i suppose?” it’s low, it’s a whisper, and it’s as uncertain as the blurry memory of a dream.

“did i do something wrong?” you blurt, overcome with a haste, a bravery that dies as quickly as it blazed up. you blush, swallowing thickly. 

he’s silent for a long moment. 

strong, powerful pro hero deku, who seems but a shadow of the kind champion he had seemed weeks prior. 

“i have to go,” he mumbles, and he doesn’t look you in the eyes as he says it. he glances away, tightens his fists and walks away. 

you almost fall forward, tentative, threatening to topple over as soon as he is not next to you. he did not see you worthy of even looking you in the eyes for his avoidance. your mind is as tentative as your body, and you feel yourself tilting over the edge of something. a coldness waits for you at the bottom of whatever cliff this is.

—

you’ve barely been within the walls of your home for ten minutes, shaking off your soaking wet coat and shoes, standing exhausted in your hallway with only pajama shorts and a tank top on, when rushed and harsh knocks come on the door. you startle and hitch a scream, turning to look at the entrance to your home. 

stalking silently over to the keyhole, you peek through it. 

your gaze stutters as you pull away, heart dropping into the pit of your stomach, suddenly more than a little afraid of what you may have initiated. 

he is outside of your door. 

bright, shining pro hero deku is outside you home. 

was he here to deliver the final blow? to let you know you are not to show up at work again? to let you know you have overstepped his boundaries, that he doesn’t want anything to do with you? 

you open the door as though it may fall of its hinges if you’re not careful, tempted to hide behind it like a child caught up too late because he looks just like the stories of beautiful, tragic heroes of the greek mythologies, and you couldn’t have wished to look upon a more pleasant sight on your doorstep, even if it is cruel. nature seems incessant on making your life painful now.

he’s wearing civilian clothing. breathing hard. a t-shirt, gray sweatpants, all wet from the rain, running his fingers through his dripping green-ish hair as he tilts his head back slightly as he notices you’re opening the door. you’re tempted to both run into him and away from him all at once, turned inside out and bare, and so you just stand as still as you possibly can. perhaps it’ll make you truly invisible. 

you’re overwhelmed by the way he absolutely and undoubtedly sees you. 

heavy-lidded, he lets his eyes take you in, in your entirety, as if he has held himself back from doing so for the longest of time. as though he has to hold himself back from pouncing on you. 

in a stupor, you step aside, a silent way to say he may step into your home. you’re not even sure he will fit inside your home, but you’re hospitable. he dips his head slightly as he enters, and the movement is so natural that your worry for his size subsides — you see he’s accustomed to being too tall, too large for things. 

too large a star to fit in your little universe. 

his arm brushes against you as he passes you, and you clench your teeth. he did that on purpose, is the thought that curses through your mind. you shake your head to yourself as you follow him into the living area of the apartment. 

“would have cleaned up if i… knew someone was coming,” you mutter, uncomfortable as a wet sock. which you still had on. 

he turns to you, and you regret not turning on all the lights in the apartment. he’s backlit by the soft glow from the little lamp in the corner of the room, looking even larger, even more imposing, and somewhat even more alluring.

he’s here to fire you, and he decides to do it while looking at you as though he finds you beautiful — how cruel does nature intend to get? he’s in your space, both in mind and body, crowding you in your small living room. it’s not even a living room, truly, it’s a tiny kitchen and a small patch of open space for a couch and a tv. it fits you, but he is too bright in here. 

“you deserve an explanation,” he begins, the words seeming heavy. he’s still soaked, still so out of place, and you struggle to remember what you deserve an explanation for. 

“i really didn’t realize i’d been so awful, until you said something,” he sighed, running his hand through his hair again. he has to stop that soon, because your sensitive, touch-starved mind grows more dizzy with each move of those arms. 

you don’t reply, don’t know what there is to say to that. you’re slowly understanding that he’s not there to fire you, but you don’t know if this route is any better. he’s here to tell you he knows about your crush, and to let you down. 

“i was at the gym when it all clicked,” he takes a deep breath, holding a hand out, seeming almost embarrassed as he gestures to himself. “hence the… appearance.”

you frown deeply. 

“what?” you clear your throat. “did you… come here straight from the gym?” 

“i felt so fucking bad,” his brows furrow, lowering towards his eyes as he takes a step forward, crowding you again. “i couldn’t stand thinking you thought you’d done something wrong so i just-” he trails off, eyes flickering about your face. “i dropped everything and came straight here.”

your brows shot up. “you drove here before you’d even finished? what—but, why-”

“i ran.”

you blanch. “you ran.”

“i thought i was doing you a favor by giving you some personal space,” he murmurs. 

“wait, what? why would you think i needed personal space?”

“i didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. you always seemed to keep to yourself. i just… felt as though i was being too forward.”

you gaze at him. his concern is real, shining in the otherwise heavy look in his eyes. you timidly reach for his hand in a hope to soothe the concern from him. “deku, that's not it at all. you... you weren’t being forward enough.” 

the confession is a whisper, and you’re a blushing mess. you feel braver now, somehow. possibly because he was wrong and you were wrong, and now you’re both desperate to fix this. 

the crease on his brow deepens slightly as he stills, watching you. the tension slowly wanes from his brows as he looks down toward the hand in his. 

you’re tempted to pull away, overcome with a feeling of overstepping something, but he runs his thumb over yours, sensing your unease. his hand is warm, rough, such a contrast to yours. you know what that one hand alone is capable of — it’s breathtaking how soft his grip on you is. 

“what do you mean?” 

“i mean that i-” you sigh, feeling naked, “i felt worse when you ignored me.” 

it’s a heavy word, and you see him wince slightly in the way his brows twitch downward, but it’s the only word that fits. except for, perhaps, avoiding. which would have stung as bad to him anyway. 

“so you… don’t mind?”

“deku, i—”

“izuku,” he rights you, and you feel a flutter in the pit of your stomach at the way he commands it. 

“izuku,” you echo in a whisper, skin feeling all too tight across your body. “you talking to me was the highlight of my day. these last few weeks are what made me upset.”

“fuck,” he curls his lips in distate as he reaches up to cup your cheek. “i’m sorry. i’m really fucking sorry.”

“don’t,” you shake your head softly, swallowing thickly, feeling as though you might dissipate into a puddle under the heat of his touch on your face. he’s searching your eyes but you’re lost in the smell of his skin as your thighs press together. 

“i… came because i wanted to make it up to you,” he mutters, and your eyes flutter. even imagining one of the greatest heroes of them all has sought you out to do good by you. 

his eyes are half-lidded, dazed by some kind of darkness that isn’t so unfamiliar in such an intimate setting. he’s watching you patiently, as though waiting for you to give him permission to make a move.

you catch onto his sexual innuendo. it all becomes clear as crystal to you in the following moments and realization is earth shattering when it hits you. 

midoriya izuku, who is not as shy as he seems, wants to fuck you. 

#my writing #bnha x reader #bnha #mha #mha x reader #izuku midoriya #izuku x reader #mha izuku #bnha izuku #bnha fanfiction #mha fanfiction #izuku x you #bnha deku #mha deku #deku x reader

[lurkingshan]

I've had all the different Love for Love's Sake interpretations rotating in my brain and kind of picking and choosing what I want to take from each of them, which is a very cool thing we can do with this show because it supports many different reads. I think for me I have landed on a few core ideas that I am stewing on the most:

Is Myungha in control of the game?

One thing I'm feeling pretty solid about is that my preferred interpretation is one where Myungha's consciousness is in control of the game. @jemmo and @biochemjess and @wen-kexing-apologist all offered up some thoughts about this that resonated with me and give me a framework that helps me make sense of the game glitches and server errors as manifestations of Myungha's emotional overwhelm and inability to accept love, rather than a creator forcing cruel choices and punishments on him. I like that idea a lot.

The initial assumption the show invites us to make is that the game world was created by the author based on his own novel, but I don't think that idea holds up as the show goes along. Because if this world we're in was truly based on the novel, I would expect we'd have seen some of it. Instead, we get a world that is populated by Myungha's own significant people--those he loved, those he lost, those he regretted--and no real hints about the novel world we're supposedly in. We never met the novel leads, for instance, or learned that Myungha had pre-existing knowledge of any other characters besides Yeowoon. So that tracks better with Myungha simply pulling his blorbo, the character he identified with most, into this afterlife world he created for himself.

Are Yeowoon and the romance "real" within this world of the show?

Which leads me to the next thing I'm stewing on. Is Yeowoon "real" in any meaningful sense within this universe? Is their relationship? Because functionally, Yeowoon is a mirror of Myungha and a stand in for his own self within the game world. Making Yeowoon happy becomes making Myungha happy. Loving Yeowoon is a form of self love for Myungha. One could argue that because the afterlife feels real to Myungha, it becomes real, and therefore everything that happens counts. But @troubled-mind mentioned in her post that she can't really latch onto the love story in this show because the reality is that Myungha has died and this afterlife is "wishful thinking." As an atheist, that resonates with me, and I think it's perhaps why I was not quite as emotionally moved by the romance ending as some of y'all seem to have been. Don't get me wrong, I thought it was beautiful. But I did not experience this as a happy ending to a love story in the way that some did. More than anything, I think I take it as a final bit of closure, that Myungha was able leave in peace having found some measure of love for himself in his final moments. I don't know that I am sold on the idea this means he is living a whole second life with Yeowoon.

So then, who is the author?

I have also been thinking a lot about who exactly this author is and how he's involved in this game world. @bengiyo suggested that he was someone who loved Myungha in life and created this world out of his own grief, and @twig-tea had suggested to me even before the show ended that the author was trying to help Myungha through the game. I see a logic to these reads, but I can't say either particularly resonated for me, in part because of what I mentioned above re: the cruelty of the game world if the errors are not self-inflicted by Myungha. @crapyouknowme suggested that the author is in fact a manifestation of the star Myungha wished upon, a loving presence that came to him because he yearned for it. I kind of like that idea personally, that this is another form of self-love Myungha willed into existence for himself. @dropthedemiurge wrote that in the end it seems all the text messages of love and yearning were from the author, and I do tend to agree. So under this interpretation, the author appears to Myungha and sends messages of love and guides him back into this game world with Yeowoon because Myungha wills these things for himself. I like that idea that Myungha is ultimately still the one in control of how he chooses to leave the world.

I think ultimately for me, I am arriving at seeing this story as less of a romance and more of a journey to self love and closure at the end of life. I do think there is a hopeful tone to the ending despite how dark the realities of Myungha's story are, and for me that hope is primarily based in his ability to love himself on his way out of this life.

#yes i am still thinking about this and no i do not intend to stop #love for love's sake #korean bl #kdrama #shan shouts into the void

[whatsaudreythinkingabout]

yellowfang thoughts

the more i think about it, the more i realize how much of a deeply, deeply tragic character yellowfang is. everyone talks about how much she fucking sucks after she becomes a starclan cat, and they’re absolutely correct; she goes from the cool grouchy grandma to a complete fucking hypocrite. and for the longest time i thought this was completely OOC for her, but it recently hit me over the head that it might not be. to say that this change in character was intentional would be giving the erins WAY too much credit knowing who they are, but the more you think about her life and what she went through, the more it makes sense in a twisted sort of way.

starclan forced her into a life she never wanted. she wants to train as a warrior, but she is cursed with the power to feel other cats’ physical pain and badgered into becoming a medicine cat by sagewhisker until she gives in. she falls in love with raggedstar, but as as soon as things go south for her he offers no support. when she dares to go against the destiny that was laid out for her, when she continues to meet with him and becomes pregnant by him, starclan punishes her; not just by having two of her kits die, but by condemning the surviving kit to become a tyrant and a child murderer. he turns against his parents; he kills his father and frames his mother for his own crimes not knowing who she truly is, and yellowfang is forced to watch this all unfold from a distance, unable to tell her son the truth and wondering how things could be different if he knew. and finally, for the good of the clans, she has no other choice but to rip out his eyes and then poison him. her own son, the kit she herself bore, dead at her own claws. a cruel twist of fate for a cat who never wanted any of this, who just wanted her own life.

so by the time she gets to starclan, her experiences have changed her. so many innocent lives were lost and the clans were nearly destroyed because she disobeyed, because she went against their will. she even forgives sagewhisker for being so shitty to her because now she’s convinced that she was the one in the wrong and her mentor, a messenger for starclan, was acting in her best interests all along. she’s become so thoroughly traumatized by everything she went through that she decides she cannot let another cat experience what she experienced. now that she’s a part of starclan, she has the power to prevent something like this from ever happening again. but that’s just the thing. she’s a part of starclan. she’s a part of the system now; the very same system that screwed her over. and the system chews people up and spits them out until they become just another cog in the machine. so instead of going to the root of the problem and questioning the level of influence starclan has over living cats, she not only perpetuates the cycle but becomes an active participant in it.

and because firestar is the son she should have had, she sets her sights on his descendants.

she cannot prevent leafpool from bearing kits, as these kits have their own destiny they must fulfill. so she tells leafpool she must give up her kits, just as she had to. she lies to squirrelflight that she will never have kits of her own and that the three are her only chance to be a mother so that she will take them in. when they arrive in starclan moons later, she and others have the audacity to judge whether they are worthy to join their ranks or should be damned to the dark forest for their actions when they not only did exactly what they were told to do, but did the same things that she did and still went to starclan for (though to give her some credit, she is at least more sympathetic than the other judges and even defends them; perhaps out of guilt?). she allows ashfur into starclan on the basis that he “loved too much,” because her relationship with raggedstar warped her view of what healthy love should look like. she forces the kin of firestar’s kin—namely, jayfeather and dovewing—into destinies they want no part of; they’ll learn to love it, just like she did.

and she thinks she’s doing the right thing. she’s learned the hard way that going against starclan will only lead to more suffering. she’s convinced that she’s helping them, that by acting this way she will be able to prevent them from making the same mistakes that she made. but she cannot see that she is only inflicting on other cats the exact same suffering that starclan inflicted on her.

and if that isn’t tragic, i don’t know what is

#warriors #warrior cats #yellowfang #erin hunter #brokenstar #raggedstar #squirrelflight #leafpool #ashfur #jayfeather #dovewing #sagewhisker #starclan #audrey thoughts #headcanon

[acourtofthought]

"wicked slashing scar"

"brutal scar"

"brutally scarred face"

"cruel beauty"

You know, SJM made no mention of Elain's beauty in ACOTAR outside of her desire to still look lovely despite poverty.

It wasn't until ACOMAF, once she realized Elucien would be mates, that she noted Elain's looks were a defining feature of hers.

And by then, we had already been made aware that Lucien had some insecurities regarding his scar:

While Elain and Lucien are extremely similar in personality and personal beliefs, the most important reasons for making them mates, I kind of love that SJM took her most scarred character (because a fake eye and scar running down the length of his face, not to mention the scars he has from when Tamlin was forced to whip him, are pretty intense and the first thing someone notices when looking at Lucien) and paired him with someone whose beauty was first described as "soft and lovely" then "devastatingly beautiful" after being made.

Something about that contrast (her soft and lovely beauty with his cruel beauty) gives me the feels.

It's not a contrast that forces them to give up the parts of themselves that matter, for example, Elain being troubled by cruelty but ending up with someone who is extremely violent, but a contrast that shows how appearances are only skin deep.

Personally I really dislike the idea of "the prettiest" Archeron with the "prettiest" batboy because it seems extremely shallow. Like someone expecting that two people must be together because they were rated "most attractive guy and girl" in the yearbook (is that still a thing? It used to be) and that's the vibe I get when Feyre thinks of how handsome Elain and Az would be. The only reasons she could picture them together was because they'd share "peace and quiet" and both possessed certain physical attributes. That is definitely not enough to build a relationship on.

Make no mistake, Lucien is handsome but his is not that of an air brushed perfection and there will always be a stigma that comes along with those who first meet him. Curiosity, shock, maybe a bit of fear.

And it's something I'm sure he's already dealt with many times over, cataloging the very many reactions others have the moment they set eyes on him, their constant stares.

Jesminda knew Lucien before Amarantha forever scarred him and while I think the majority of his closing himself off from emotional connection had to do with loyalty to her, I do think we'll find that he doubts whether anyone else could even want to be with him, knowing that he's basically the only fae around with facial imperfections. Many characters have voiced how attractive he is however once an insecurity takes root, it's difficult to weed out.

Sure Ianthe wanted him but that was for own self serving purposes, a way to get ahead.

So if Elucien were to end up together, it would be powerful for them both.

Everyone is under the impression that Elain is a bit shallow and is only concerned with looking her best, Nesta even remembers her mother saying Elain would marry for "beauty" and love and that she did not dream beyond her "pretty dresses".

So falling for a male who, while truly handsome, has some very major imperfections (which make him all the more perfect to us Lucien stans), would show that Elain cares more about what is inside. Because Lucien is pretty perfect in that department.

And with Lucien's insecurities about his face, imagine what it would feel like to know that the most beautiful female he'd ever seen was the one who chose him regardless of his perceived "imperfections". That she wanted him just as he was.

Not that that would be his reason for wanting her, just as it wasn't Rhys's reason for wanting Feyre. However it would definitely be the cherry on top of it all.

❤️

#elucien #pro elucien #elucien supremacy #anti e/riel #elucien bond #lucien vanserra #pro lucien vanserra

[thesensteawitch]

How Will You Find Love?🔔💘🔔💘🔔💘🔔💘

Pick A Pile Reading

🩵(Left to Right- Pile 1, Pile 2, Pile 3)🩵

Hello, Senstea Souls!

Welcome to another collective tarot reading. This reading will talk about when and how you will find love. Remember love doesn't need to be romantic in the reading, it can be platonic too.🩷

For private readings refer to the links mentioned below:

Booking Form

My Rate Card

Pile 1

Hello, my beautiful pile 1. You will find love through selfless service. Perhaps while helping others. Currently, I see that your heart chakra is blocked. You feel lack. Healing must begin before you find love. You'll gain love through communities. When you free yourself from the idea of love that you have in your mind, you'll find love. When you focus less on the idea and work towards spreading love or embodying love, you'll experience what love truly means. You cannot give with an empty cup and for your cup to be filled with compassion you are being called by the universe to relieve the past hurts and negativity stuck in your energy centers. You are hurting yourself by looking for love in all the wrong places. If you look closely you'll find yourself to be loved beyond measure. I heard someone say that if God created tiny creatures with so much care then he must have had a beautiful idea and so much love in his hands while creating you. You too are created with love and with purpose. It's a blessing to be human and be able to express emotions. I also feel that you are being called to know your limits when it comes to giving to others. You need to know how much to give and when to stop. As you heal others you'll heal a part of yourself too. Start doing something about your emotions. Don't sit and let the tears roll out for nothing. With every teardrop create something new. Channel your emotions towards creation. Let go of the narratives that you have been repeating to yourself for months. As you release the toxic energy you'll get closer to finding and experiencing love. A new cycle is beginning in your life as something old is dying. If you need a personal reading on your situation then feel free to DM me.

Pile 2

Hello, my dear pile 2. Before jumping into finding love you need to contemplate what kind of love are you truly looking for. You can't have whatever is being served to you. Think and be firm about what you truly want from love and stick to the idea. Soon you'll see that you'll be attracting the right kind of people. The kind of people you thought did not even exist will enter your life. So don't settle for less. Be firm but don't forget your soft side either. Weigh the scales before you allow anybody in your life. As the year begins you'll see people knocking on your door. It's up to you to whom to let in. You're not blind to the truth and can peak through people's true intentions. Make use of that ability. Even if for some time you end up alone. Because either way you are going to attract the tribe that matches your vibe. How about you take care of your vibe? There's also a warning here. In the quest for finding the right person don't forget that we are all humans with flaws. So do not expect anybody to be perfect. Don't put too much burden on others to behave the way you want them to. Instead, observe how they behave and judge them based on that. Don't try to change anyone. Your words will hold power over people. Make sure you use the right kind of words and don't roam around bruising people with them. You may take your past hurt to be the motivation behind your current attitude. Don't be cruel. Don't spoil the relationships that you are left with. You can't keep crying over spilled water forever. Nor you can let your hurtful emotions be the driving force behind your current personality. Love is kind and gentle. Remember that. Love is neither fantasy nor a foul play. The more you are hard on yourself the more you'll be hard on others too. Take care of your attitude and you'll see love knocking at your door very soon. If you need a personal reading on your situation then feel free to DM me.

Pile 3

Hello, my beautiful pile 3. I see that Universe is offering you love in some way but you are not seeing it. It's exactly when you feel you have nothing left or you're not loved enough you'll find love. But you need to be optimistic to truly look at it. Sometimes our perception blinds us to what we are receiving. I feel some of you are also loners. But it doesn't matter when it comes to manifesting love. You seem to be looking for love for a very long time now. It seems like if there's a rulebook on love you have read them all. You may give people advice based on what you have learned through books. Love is right in front of you, you are neglecting to see it. For some of you, I see that the person you like likes you back. You both may have similar qualities. You both mirror each other in the best possible way. If you guys communicate then your communication is intellectually stimulating. I feel it's just sometimes you don't know what is the right thing to say. You both are so logical that you forget to speak through your heart. I see a lot of people. For some of you, there may be third-party involvement. Hmm...I think you need to communicate before committing. Either you are confused between two people or the other person is. The situation doesn't look good. Justice will be served no matter what. The truth will come out. Hearts will be broken. But eventually, everything will settle down. It's time to communicate with honesty and through heart. Love is complicated in your book. I hope everything ends well for you, pile 3. You need to set strong boundaries. I hope your situation gets better. If you need a personal reading on your situation then feel free to DM me.

#love reading #love tarot reading #pick a pile reading #pick a pile tarot #pick a pile #tarot reader #tarot reading #tarotblr #tarot cards #free tarot reading #message for the collective #tarotcommunity #tarot readings #love tarot free #love tarot spread #relationship reading #book reading #card reading

[khaosrealms]

howdy! if you're up for it could you do some headcanons or lil scenes for Nitara with a fae fem s/o? thinking a sort of trickster, illusion faery. maybe helps lure hapless victims to feed her beloved and such.

TUATH DÉ FOLA. / NITARA X FAE! READER

a/n: i am ALWAYS up for nitara imagines! i will be combining aspects of the ask you had spent after this one-- one genderfluid, playful and devoted fae coming right up!

- At first, you had been a choice of victim for Nitara. Another blood bag to add to the list of the many, many mouths she needed to feed back at Vaeternus. A strong, healthy body flowing with life force she could sample and return with pride. But something had stopped in her tracks as she stalked you; your own action, your own hunt. Watching as you began to lure a young traveler out from the common roads. Coaxing him into the dark forests, pulling him away from any semblance of escape. When Nitara reveals herself to you, there’s a gleam to her eye. A proposal.

- At first, it truly is simply business. Your ability to lure in hapless victims, Nitara's brutal service to her people. One way or another, you both got what you wanted-- and you made a good team, complementing one another's personal goals and desires. She was captivating. Her gore, her hunger, her dedication to her people; and as much as you didn't believe it was possible, you eventually realized you'd begun to fall for Nitara.

- Your vampiress, your Vaeternan, your Nitara. So willing you are to do her bidding, so willing she is to reward you. To kiss your lips and cover them in the blood of her feed. To wrap you in her wings and carry you high in the air, always ready to catch you, always testing how far she can take you. Wrapped around her clawed fingertip; completely and utterly devoted to her. And she loves it, every part of it. The worship, the exaltation. She loves that despite all the lengths she must take to help the people of her realm— you are there, smiling, wishing nothing more than to be of service to her.

“Come back home with me. Come to Vaeternus.” Nitara’s fingers always find their way across your skin. She likes the sound of it, nails dragged across warm, beating flesh; and she likes that it makes your skin prickle with anticipation. Her eyes set on your’s; searching for an answer in those mischievous hues. “And what will you give me in return, hm?” Always needing an offering, tricky fae. But Nitara does not hush your odd way— she only smiles, the sharp ends of her teeth poking out from between her lips. “Me.” Everything you could have ever wanted. “Is that enough for you?”

- Of course it’s enough for you. And though she’s far from returning home, her mission a great plethora of bodies away from completion, the promise of possibility is enough. You are bound to Nitara. In all your playful, cruel ways— they belong to her. Even as she takes to the deliberation of a sorcerer named Quan Chi, you remain by Nitara’s side. Even if it’s evil, even if it’s against everything the world could possibly consider moral; it does not matter. Because she is there. Because the taste of her lips, drenched in red hot blood, is as sweet as dark cherries against your own.

#mortal kombat x reader #nitara x reader #nitara x fae! reader #mk1 #mk1 headcanons #khaosrealms #shakes the bars of my cage #i gotta stop releasing stuff @ 5 am #i’m going CRAZY #thank u so much again for the request! #i love my vampire wife ♥️

[bookish-whore]

'Til Death

Rhysand x Reader

Words: 2.8k

Warnings: arranged marriage, mostly fluff, themes of emotional/psychological abuse

A/N: Welcome to Day Three!!! Today we have the first part of what I think will become a cute little slow burn/strangers to lovers/forced proximity fic. this is based on a request one of you lovely anons sent in and I hope you like it!

My Masterlist -> Here

Join my Taglist -> Here

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

I never imagined myself getting married.

As a child I detested the idea. In fact, I remember a conversation with my parents about how I would rather renounce my titles and claims to my fortune than be forced to be a bride.

It all happened so quickly I didn’t even have time to truly process that today was the day. As I stared in the mirror at myself in this ridiculous white dress, I couldn’t help but feel as though my freedom was slipping away with each passing minute. I wiped a stray tear from the corner of my eye when the door opened without warning and a blonde female entered the room, she was stunning, one of the most beautiful females I had seen. She wore a form fitting red dress, her blonde hair cascading down her back in loose curls.

“Hello, its y/n right? You look absolutely beautiful” the female remarked

“Umm…yes” I said tentatively “who are you?”

“Oh! My apologies I didn’t think about how strange this would be for you. My name is Morrigan, Mor for short and I am Rhysands cousin. I know this isn’t the best circumstance for us to meet under, but I have something for you…from Rhys.”

“For me?” I asked, she extended her hand and there was a letter with my name on the front and a black seal with the night court emblem on the back. I turned it over in my hands analyzing the elegant script that I deduced belonged to my future husband.

“This is all just so…overwhelming” I admitted

“Trust me, I get it probably on a level many others don’t. I just came because Rhys thought it might help your nerves to get to know him a little before the ceremony. He managed to delay a few more hours on account of some fake emergency.”

“I’ll be just outside the door waiting for your answer.” She said quickly turning and leaving the room, closing the heavy door as softly as she could manage.

I made my way to the couch in the dressing room and sat carefully, trying not to wrinkle my dress. I broke the seal, removing the letter. I was surprised to find he had such elegant handwriting

Y/n, I’m sure an arranged marriage to a complete stranger was not what you had envisioned for your wedding day (on that we can both agree) My cousin has no doubt used her eccentric flare to get you to read this and I hope that you will join me for a drink before we do this, while not what we planned I hope that we can make the best of this situation. -Rhysand

I appreciated the effort, and I had to admit I was curious about my soon-to-be-husband. Before I could lose my nerve and overthink his gesture I stood, opening the door to find Mor exactly where she said.

“Let’s go for a drink” I said

“Seems like the rational thing to do” she replied with a smile, extending her arm for me to take and she led me through the halls of this manor to what I presumed was the roof.

As Mor opened the door I was struck with this feeling, I was nervous to meet him, I mean I knew him by his reputation but had never met the High Lord of the Night Court. If the stories were to be believed he was menacing, cruel, and evil but the man who wrote that note didn’t seem like any of those things.

“Good luck” Mor whispered as she closed the door leaving me alone with him up here

His back was turned as I approached him, but I took in his height, he was easily one of the taller males I had met. His hair was an interesting shade of black, almost like a raven’s feathers and he wore a well-fitted black suit.

I halted behind him and smoothed out my dress. I should try and make a good impression after all, and I cleared my throat to garner his attention. He turned and I was immediately struck by his eyes. They were such a unique shade of violet; it was unlike anything I had ever seen before and as his eyes met mine all thoughts exited my head as I looked into his eyes, I mean really looked, I noticed that from a distance they looked violet but up close it was like a galaxy like the night sky itself, there were flecks of silver, blue, and violet within his irises and I couldn’t help but wonder what he made of me.

“Hi” I said, giving him an awkward wave “I’m y/n, I’m sure the long white dress is a dead giveaway”

“It’s a pleasure” he said “I’m Rhysand, but my family calls me Rhys and I would like you to do so as well if you feel comfortable with that”

I nodded my answer

“So, what’s your drink of choice?” he asked

“I’ll take whatever you’re having” I said eying the glass of amber liquid he held in his hand

“A woman of refined tastes” he teased “I think we’ll get along fine”

He poured me a glass and motioned for me to sit, I didn’t enjoy being ordered around but I was intrigued by what he would say, what he would do given the situation.

“I can tell you’re nervous” he said taking a sip from his glass “Why?” he asked

“Why wouldn’t I be? I mean I am about to get married to a man who I hardly know”

“What exactly would you like to know?” he asked

“Well, for starters where will we be living?”

“In my townhouse, in Velaris” he answered simply

“What will my duties entail?”

“You aren’t my property y/n, you’ll be free to do whatever you wish. If you want to be a part of official court conversations, you will be as my equal worthy of the respect my court gives me or if you want to shop and live a life of leisure you are free do so as well. The choice is yours”

I took a sip of my drink, relishing in the slight burn as the liquid slid down my throat. Freedom. I would be free.

“And what about my wifely…duties” I asked, “what about children, your heirs?”

“I would never take someone into my bed unwillingly. Yes, you will be my wife but you aren’t some brood mare meant only for childbearing. Should you wish for a child, I’m sure we can work it out and should you never want children then so be it. We are going to be equals y/n, on that I swear.”

I felt much more at ease with that, he was offering me a life, he was offering me freedom, freedom to make myself something and to decide what I wanted for my life. It was something I hadn’t had.

For most of my life my parents had spent their time priming me to become the perfect wife. I learned to perform house duties like cooking, baking, sewing. I was taught history, and arithmetic and once I turned 16 my lessons transitioned to the ways to pleasure and please a man. Once they felt I was suitable for a match, they began making connections. I’m not entirely sure how they landed on Rhysand, or how they got him to agree to a marriage, but I assumed it had something to do with their control on spices and mining resources.

But now.

Now I had the opportunity to be more than a wife. He said I would be his equal. I felt the faint fluttering of butterflies in my stomach at the thought. I would outrank my parents; I would no longer be under their control and the thought had me practically running to the altar to say ‘I do’

“y/n?” Rhysand pressed “are you alright”

“Absolutely, I’m just thinking”

“Can I ask about what?”

“About my future”

“It’s a lot to think about” he agreed, finishing his glass

I downed the rest of the liquid in my glass “What time is it?” I asked

“Half-past seven” he said checking his watch “I should probably go back downstairs, make sure everything is in order”

“I didn’t get a chance to thank you…for all of this” I said

“Well, for starters you can follow through with your end of this deal and promise not to leave me up at the altar alone” he joked

I smiled, he really had a great sense of humor and I think we could even become friends.

“I wouldn’t dare embarrass a high lord like that” I teased back

“I’ll see you down there.” He said standing as he made his way to the door “I’ll be the one standing in the aisle”

“And I’ll be the one in the white dress” he nodded as the door closed leaving me alone on the roof.

I took some deep breaths before going back to my dressing room.

-----

I had to admit that it was beautiful. It was simple.

While being an arrangement, I still wanted my close friends and family present, it was a big day after all and I would only be doing this once. The setting was small and intimate, two rows on either side of the aisle and a simple arch where Rhys stood with the High Priestess.

When I made it down the aisle, Rhys took my hands in his, and the high priestess began the ceremony, I focused on the words being spoken in the old language. The priestess asked me to repeat after her:

“I take you, Rhysand, as my husband; to stand strong and equal by my side. by destiny we are aligned. W-We will face challenges together and find st-strength in our union. By the Sun, Moon, & Stars.”

The priestess nodded as she continued, and I repeated after her.

“May we always be as happy as we are today. May the mother give us knowledge on our way to come. May she bless us with strength and courage, and may she grant us safety, family, and prosperity.”

As if sensing my anxiety, Rhys squeezed my hand, the small gesture grounded me as Rhysand repeated the same vows. We then moved to the hand-cord portion. The priestess projected her voice to us and our guests.

“You were asked to choose ribbons in 3 colors to be woven together as a tangible symbol of the values and virtues that you hold dear in your lives and in your union. You chose red, symbolic of fire and passion, so that your love may always be bright, warm, and passionate. Green, representative of delicate leaves, symbolic of growth, so your love may be fruitful and vibrant, and your happiness abundant. And black, to represent wisdom, success, and strength.”

As she spoke, she wrapped the ribbons around out joined hands, tucking the ends into each other and placing her hands on top to offer the final blessing.

“These are the hands that will passionately love you and cherish you through the years, for a lifetime of happiness. These are the hands that will countless times wipe the tears from your eyes, tears of sorrow and tears of joy. These are the hands that will comfort you in illness and hold you when fear or grief racks your mind. These are the hands that will hold you tight as you struggle through difficult times. These are the hands that will give you support and encourage you to chase your dreams. Together, everything you wish for can be realized.”

She looked between us and our joined hands as she spoke the next part

“This cord of three braided ribbons symbolizes so much. It is your life, your love, and the eternal connection that the two of you have found with one another. The true bonds of this handfasting are not formed by these ribbons, or even by the knot connecting them. They are formed instead by your vows, by your pledge, your souls, and your two hearts, now bound together as one. May your hands be forever clasped in friendship, and your hearts joined forever in love… by the power vested in me by the cauldron and the mother, I declare you husband and wife. You may kiss.”

Before I had time to panic about kissing him his mouth was on mine. It was a quick but firm kiss purely out of necessity.

And just like that we were married.

We decided to make our rounds and say hello to all of our guests before leaving. Rhysand walked us to his group of friends, I hadn’t officially met them yet, but I’m sure that would come once he whisked me away to the night court. They clapped him on the back and gave him wide smiles, even though our situation was unusual they seemed to support him. They had such an easy familiarity. They just seemed to understand each other.

I stood there pondering my circumstances, in truth, I was excited to be on my own, even if that meant being attached to Rhysand. I would be in a new home, a new place, and away from my parents. I had never even been away on my own and now I would be saying goodbye to them for the foreseeable future. Perhaps I would find my own friends, my own family and that thought electrified me.

The last people to talk to before we departed were my parents.

It was a brief meeting of polite conversation, I didn’t dare show my excitement to be free of them. I spoke only when absolutely necessary but with each passing minute I became more anxious to leave. As if sensing my rising nerves, Rhys pulled me to his side and spoke excusing us.

“It was a pleasure to meet you both” Rhysand said shaking my father’s hand and giving my mother a nod “but it’s getting late and we should be going we have quite a ways to travel tonight”

They both nodded in understanding and my mother, always one for the optics, pulled me into a final embrace and held me tight, taking the opportunity to whisper in my ear “Remember your lessons, don’t disappoint us”

I pulled away taking one last look at them before Rhysand grabbed me around the waist, winnowing us away.

-----

We arrived at the townhouse.

It was much cozier than I had imagined. Rhys gave me a tour starting in the foyer which was decorated with a red carpet, with wood-paneled walls and art on each wall. There were two rooms: on the left a sitting room with a black marble fireplace, lots of comfortable, but worn furniture, and bookshelves built into every wall. On the right was a dining room with a long, cherrywood table big enough for ten people. Down the hallway ahead there are a few more doors, which led to the kitchen.

Rhys led me up the wide oak staircase to a hall punctuated with chandeliers of swirled, colored glass that illuminated the bedroom doors and led me down the hall stopping outside a green door.

“This will be your room” he said as he opened the door motioning me to enter.

It was quite beautiful. It was dark out but I could tell that the room faced the back of the townhouse, the large windows peered over the stone fountain in the center of the garden. I took in the décor, everything in the room was a dark, rich, wood and soft white, with touches of subtle sage. The bed was in the center of the far wall and was a massive cloud like thing, adorned in quilts and duvets of cream and ivory with accent pillows in various shades of green.

There was also an attached bathing room made of white marble, with a toilet, a claw-foot tub, and more windows that overlooked the garden wall and a thick line of cypress trees that bordered the property.

“This is incredible” I said as we made our way back to the entrance of my bedroom.

“I want this to feel like your home, this is your space so feel free to make whatever changes you like.” He said

“Rhys- I really don’t know what to say…thank you”

“No thanks necessary. I think we can help each other here.” Before I could ask him to elaborate, he continued “You should get some rest, it’s been a taxing day for the both of us.”

With that he stepped out of the room “Goodnight y/n” he said as he closed the door behind him.

As I looked around the room. my room I suppose. I couldn’t help but think that this morning I thought my circumstances would be much different.

But now?

I think I’m going to like it here.

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

Tune back in tomorrow for Day Four ❤️

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

Taglist (all fics) ->

@cherryjain17 @we-were-beautiful @moonfawnx @cityofidek @daily-dose-of-sass @marvelouslyem @moonlightazriel @frieddesigninspiringquotesslime @indaybella99 @gray08 @dreamsofivy @gorgeouslysent @viradeity @kennedy-brooke @maddistyles17 @thewarriormoon @pixiestix13 @lucyysthings @a-frog-with-a-laptop @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @purplevitagen @devilsfoodcake22 @lillithathecat @baby-is-crying

#acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic #acotar series #rhysand x reader #rhysand x y/n #rhysand fluff #rhys #rhys x reader #rhys x y/n #bat boys #mor acotar

[sunflwryu]

warning: yandere, threats | not requested

promise

there’s tears in your eyes, and you’re clearly scared of the man behind you, but...why? why must you say such things to him, again and again?

“please, jake, leave me alone...”

those are the words that are coming from your lips, each one an invisible slice to his heart, but the fearful expression on your face begs to differ, almost repairing the damage as soon as it's been dealt with an invisible hope that it's not you who means the things you're saying. almost. it hurt a lot coming from you, when you never ever treated him so coldly like this, you never let anything separate the two of you, who'd been best friends since you were children.

"...why? what happened? we were doing just fine, and then you stopped talking to me when you started dating him..." he protests.

said man sighs, shaking his head. "don't go manipulating my darling like that about me..." his voice is dangerous, low, serious and sharp like a knife's edge. he narrows his eyes, and there's something dangerous in them that makes jake feel like he should run away. it's all the more reason to take you away, to keep you away from whoever this boyfriend of yours was, wherever he appeared from, because he'd never seen him until today. before he can protest, the man turns his gaze towards you, his hand moving behind your back as he whispers to you in a low voice, and jake doesn't miss how you stiffen immediately, your lips parting slightly in a silent gasp of surprise. "...go on, tell him everything you told me."

you shakily take a deep breath, then another one as your eyes laser in on him. he feels the rush of doom surging through him, and it feels horrible, like someone just read his execution sentence then and there.

"i know you don't hate me like you said you did, okay?" jake tries before you can open your mouth to speak, the words tumbling out of his own desperately, hoping his words can reach you, reach past whatever hold that man has on you. you look so sad, like this is hurting you just as much as it's hurting him, your eyes filled with a pain he wants to understand and help you with. "i know you're being forced some way, somehow because of him...i'll respect your decision if that's what you truly feel, but please...if you need help, i'll help you, i'll do anything, that's what we promised to each other when we were little, so please—"

"just fucking leave me alone! god, you're so fucking annoying! always following me around, always trying to text me and talk to me when i'm busy!" you cut him off abruptly, loudly, cursing at him like he's a lifelong enemy of yours, making his eyes widen with betrayal and shock and sadness. "i hate you so fucking much! why didn't you listen the first time?!"

surely, you'll just laugh and say it was just some cruel joke you pulled on him even if you weren't the type, that this was all a dream, but it's not, and you're glaring at him with venom in your gaze.

jake swallows, hard. if you wanted to hurt him, you certainly did, and he looks at you with his puppy eyes, hoping you'll just...you'll do something and come to him like he's always told you. but you do nothing, and the man behind you also just stares at him, and he feels like he doesn't belong, like he never did. you shattered his heart in one go, and what hurts the most is knowing that you know how fragile he is, how fragile his feelings are, how highly and deeply he holds you in his heart. sure, you didn't know of his love for you, but...you're important to him, and he thought he was too.

"i...i'm going to go..." he barely gets out awkwardly with an indescribable pain in his voice before he turns heel and runs off out of the alley, the sound of his footsteps fading quickly.

you just stand there, jake's betrayed expression burned into your mind and making you taste guilt, shame, and disgust with yourself. you try not to cry, clenching your fists so hard that your nails almost dig into your palms, your eyes glued to the asphalt, trying to pick out the rocks in your vision so you don't close your eyes and see that pained face your now former best friend had made. your lips tremble, mouth dry with the terror that runs through your bones now that you're alone with your boyfriend.

“you did so well, darling...” jay puts something in his pocket, making you release the breath of relief you've been holding onto for this entire time. he grabs your hand enthusiastically, unraveling your fist and interlocking your fingers with his quickly as he squeezes it too tightly, making you wince from the slight shot of pain that rushes through your arm. “...i’ll keep my promise since you kept yours, okay? i won’t kill him, i won’t do anything to him...as long as he doesn’t try anything else.” his lips land on your cheek softly, an action you would think lovely if it was a few weeks ago when you first met him, but you know better. you know.

you nod silently, hesitantly leaning over to give him a kiss on the cheek as well. “yes...t-thank you.” your voice is timid and trembles with fear, something you know your boyfriend enjoys from the way his eyes sparkle with amusement when he hears you stutter.

he smiles at your return of affection, dimpled smile so unfitting for the person he really is underneath the honeyed lies, the sweet words he used to lure you in to this inescapable "love" of his. he drags you forward with your clasped hands so you both can get out of the darkness of the alley too, to his car parked just around the corner, your expression faltering a little from the slight spike of pain on your mid-back, but you ignore it and press on, not wanting to give way to anyone who might be watching what just happened in there, not wanting to cause a scene, because you know what would happen after that. you swallow hard at what you've just done as your feet follow his, barely catching up from the exhaustion that plagues your body. you're so tired of keeping up, of playing along, of promises.

you just hope you've said enough, done enough to ward jake far, far away from this monster, away from you, the one who the monster fell in love with; after all, jay always follows up on what he likes to call "promises", but they're really threats in what he gleefully pretends is a clever disguise.

you'd know, the small knife wound on your back from just a few minutes ago says so clearer than anything else.

note: haven't wrote for enha in a while! my favorite song by them at the moment is fever, i play it sometimes when i'm getting ready in the morning and i just dance along to it lol. anyway, i finally have a masterlist with at least one fic for each member, and that's enhypen! i thought txt would be first since they only have 5 members but i guess not. this is for @appleofthemoon ♥ i know you're jay-biased(?) so this one's for you. thank you for always supporting me, apple! i haven't written a lot lately because it's just been work, 1-2 hours of me time, and then back to sleep again, and with writing, i need time to develop all my ideas in my head before i actually write a fic. still, i hope you all enjoyed this, and thank you for reading!

enhypen masterlist | main masterlist | by @sunflwryu

#yandere enhypen #yandere enha #enha yandere #enhypen yandere #jay park #park jongseong #park jay #enhypen jay #enha jay #jay enha #jay enhypen #enhypen #enha #enha imagines #enhypen imagines #enha fanfic #enhypen fanfic #enhypen fanfiction #yandere kpop #yandere jay #yandere jongseong

[laughingsour]

The (Laugh?) Sad Tale of Joy Boy

(Spoilers ahead, don’t read if you haven’t caught up with the manga)

This analysis came about from me remembering the ending of Wind Waker and the line from Amphibia’s true colors: “That’s the thing about friends isn’t it? The more you love ‘em the more it hurts when they go”

I don’t think a lot of people have caught on to the truly heartbreaking irony in the title of Joy Boy. That, despite his cheery name, his story did NOT have a happy ending.

We already know that the 20 kings (and Imu, most likely) won 800 years ago and destroyed most of what Joy Boy and his allies and friends accomplished.

This not only means that the many races of the world were doomed to persecution and racism by humans but it also means that the technology of the world was regressed to the point that they can only begin to catch up after 800 years (and largely because the man responsible is said to be 500 years ahead of his time) and the people don’t even know what they have lost.

Think about it, in the Jaya arc Robin examines a skull from the fallen galleon and deduces that they medically relieved him of a tumor by making a hole in the skull, without anesthesia. It’s a forgotten practice by the present time, but it still proves that medicine had to evolve to resort to less gruesome methods. And in the East Blue they mentioned that scurvy was only recently fully understood. None of these things are an issue for us because of current medical knowledge.

Of course not every technological advancement is good and some of them have actually caused horrific results both in the One piece world and real life. But people have an unfortunate tendency to take for granted the good things science has given us.

Back to the original topic though, if the Ancient Kingdom had won the One piece world would be unrecognizable to the one we’ve come to known. We don’t know how much for the better, but the 20 kings were very much afraid that such a world could have existed and of a man who‘s implied to have had a pretty innocent dream

When someone who doesn’t make sense to the rest of the world appears there’s two things that can happen with them. Either the world destroys them and who they are at their core, or the world is forced to change to make sense of them.

Joy Boy was definitely one such person in the past like Luffy is in the present. But unlike Luffy, when met with the violent nature of the world, he couldn’t beat it because of some cruel twist of fate. (Or perhaps betrayal? I think Imu knew the first Joy Boy or they wouldn’t keep the frozen straw hat).

Even if (when) Luffy wins and fulfills the original Joy Boy’s dream, the original Joy Boy didn’t, no matter how hard he tried.

But the 20 king were still unable to destroy who Joy Boy was at his core: a dreamer. The very reason that he had friends who loved him. And because of that, Joy Boy had to dream even further than thought posible and imagine that someone else would appear in the future who was like him. Surprise, surprise, that came true.

But he still died without fulfilling his promise. And he and his friends, like all people eventually do one way or another, had to part ways.

But no matter how much Joy Boy may think he failed his friends, they love him no matter what and believe in him. And go on to make sure Joy Boy’s dream of a new person like him appearing comes true. (And adopt the name D. as one of their methods?)

Even so, Joy Boy himself lost and his loss is felt by all who knew him because he is no longer there. Which isn’t the same as the memory of a person. Luffy may be the heir of Joy Boy, but he isn’t Nika (or whatever his real name was).

Imagine if Brook didn’t have the Revive fruit. Laboon would have kept waiting for someone who wouldn’t come back; and even if Luffy gave him a new reason to keep waiting, it still would be a very different person than the perverted-dad (skull?) joke telling-musical gentleman that Laboon knew, wouldn’t it? In this regard Brook is luckier than Joy Boy was.

That always was one of the most horrible things about the World Government, thinking people are expendable. They are not. Galley-La couldn’t make a new Going Merry even if they had the original blueprints because the crew that sailed her would notice small things that are not there anymore.

Although his memory and dreams for a new Dawn in the world are very much alive, the fact he lost so long ago after giving it his all cannot be undone. Similarly the 800 years of abuse the Government, the Celestial Dragons and Imu have inflicted cannot be undone either and many people who dreamed to see themselves free did not live to see it happen.

Is it any wonder then that a piece of the Rio Poneglyph, one of the only means of the Ancient Kingdom to communicate and perhaps the most crucial historical document in the One Piece world, is an apology letter from Joy Boy?

His dream will come true after all in such a way that will be mind-boggling to the point of it being funny, no matter what the world has thrown his way, which may be why Roger laughed.

What I mean to say is that I’m sure Joy Boy’s story will be extraordinarily tragic and yet triumphant somehow. And in line with who Luffy is, he’s not unbreakable.

But he’s not finished yet.

#One Piece #joy boy #op spoilers #gear 5 luffy #egghead arc #Luffy #Imu #sun god nika #op brook #As King Daphnes said “This is the only world your ancestors were able to leave you” #“Please…forgive us” #op theory #ohara #gol d. roger #one piece analysis

[delimeful]

carry them home (5)

warnings: magical oaths, mentions of past harm/captivity, miscommunication/lack of communication, PTSD, food scarcity, cliffhanger

-

From a very young age, Janus’s life had been nomadic in nature. He had traversed all kinds of terrain, with all kinds of people, in all kinds of conditions. Whether fleeing or pursuing, when it came to travel, he was confident in his experience.

The gaggle of children he was currently stuck with were decidedly not expert travelers.

They clearly all had some level of skill in surviving on their own; being what they were, they wouldn’t have gotten this far without knowing that much.

Most changelings did. Naivety didn’t tend to linger long in those that were hunted simply for existing, especially as beings that didn’t truly belong to one realm or the other.

The wisdom required to hide from an Iron Guard member and the knowledge required to set up a functioning campsite were two very different skills, however, and Janus’s current accommodations proved as much.

The sun was setting, and the children had essentially come to a stop where they were and planted themselves in various nooks and crannies, getting comfortable in the cold, damp woods the way only fae could.

Janus, as one of those pitiful creatures that was more vulnerable to the elements, was left decidedly less comfortable.

To the surprise of precisely no one, he hadn’t managed to convince Vee to allow him to unbind his hands, or even have his bound hands held in front of him, rather than behind.

In fact, he was fairly certain he’d ended their first day’s trek with double the restrictions he’d started with.

“Be quiet, you’re too loud. Are you trying to wake the whole forest?”

“Stop lurking. Stay ahead of me— not that ahead!”

“Don’t talk to him. Actually? Don’t even look at him.”

The most galling part was that most of the orders weren’t even fueled by malice. They seemed more compulsive than anything else, following a strange sort of logic: everything he did was suspect in Vee’s eyes, and so everything he did had to be restricted.

Such measures might have seemed reasonable to the twitchiest changeling he’d ever had the displeasure of meeting, but they were horrible for Janus’s burgeoning headache. The more rules he had to keep track of, the more likely it was that he would accidentally slip and earn himself a jolt of nerve-burning pain.

Particularly after Vee had snapped, red-faced, for Janus to stop making faces whenever the group’s progress was stalled by yet another bout of bickering.

Talk about cruel and inhumane. His mocking expressions were a key part of his personality, thank you very much.

All in all, it was a welcome change when Logan approached to take his own turn guarding the hostage. Janus had to work to not shift too visibly when the change in watchers took effect, the low buzz of pain from so many overlapping orders sloughing off his shoulders like shedding a heavy cloak.

It wasn’t anywhere near debilitating, but he hadn’t missed the sensation, and was glad to avoid it as much as possible.

Vee had slouched off resentfully, but Logan was still standing there, surveying him with a curious frown. His wings were folded neatly against his back even though there was nobody present to keep the secret of them from.

“How may I be of service,” Janus asked, wrangling his tone into something only slightly sardonic through pure force of will.

A small, familiar voice in the back of his mind suggested that maybe he could just ask them not to use so many overlapping commands at once. He ignored it as thoroughly as he did all ideas that might involve unnecessary vulnerability, and resisted the urge to smile sarcastically only because he didn’t want his ability to emote revoked again so soon.

“How did you break my charmspeak?” Logan asked, voice kept low enough not to disturb the others.

(Not that it seemed necessary. The only one within hearing distance was Patton, who was already sound asleep, going by the gurgly snoring. Vee had sulked off to the nearby shadows, and the two nature sprites had, oddly enough, vanished the moment they’d decided to stop for the night.)

Janus raised an eyebrow, thankfully painlessly. “Subverting magical compulsion is something I’ve trained extensively in.”

Of course, that ‘training’ wasn’t generally willing, but that was beside the point.

“Why?” Logan asked, not even seeming to realize that he was leaning in slightly.

“I like to be prepared,” Janus lied, because none of them had thought to order that he be truthful. It was a common flaw with fae and fae-adjacent– bald-faced lying was an abstract idea to them, rather than an automatic instinct the way it was for Janus.

The answer didn’t seem to satisfy the siren, going by his frustrated scowl and the ruffled feathers Janus could spy along the curve of his wings. They seemed oddly ragged, for someone as precise as Logan.

“It wasn’t your magic at fault,” Janus added, throwing the kid a bone. “All magic has loopholes. You must know that much, or you wouldn’t have taken the precaution of binding my hands.”

He wriggled his fingers in example, a mostly pointless gesture since his hands were hidden, wedged between the tree he leaned against and the rest of his body. “Speaking of, I don’t suppose you’d be willing to give me a little more freedom of motion? I have sworn my harmlessness under blood oath.”

Logan straightened up slightly, expression flattening back out. “It would be inadvisable to leave you unbound to exploit any more loopholes,” he replied tartly.

“If you keep turning my helpful advice against me, I’m going to stop giving it,” Janus told him, and then rode out a wave of sharp oath-induced discomfort before sourly adding, “That was a joke. Far be it from me to stop giving you advice. Loopholes are one thing, but an oathbreaker, I am not.”

“We’ll see.” Logan had returned to the curious frown; Janus must have reacted a bit more to the oath’s sting than he’d thought. What a shame, for the infamous Silvertongue’s poker face to falter from something as banal as disuse.

The words slipped out, sharper than he’d meant them to: “I’m sure we will. Now, are you finished, or is sleeping another basic privilege that you plan to strip from me?”

A flicker of panic shuddered through him, an automatic reflex from years of paying the price for sass. It was never a good idea to insult their pride and give them ideas in the same breath, especially not while under oath.

Logan, however, only stepped back slightly, feathery ear tufts flicking as he cleared his throat. “Right, of course. We can speak more while traveling.”

“Of course.” Janus managed a stiff nod, still half-braced for retaliation as he tried to drag his mind back into the present. There was no reason for them to lash out in such a way, particularly since depriving Janus of sleep would only lessen his use to them.

(There had been no real reason for them to do it back then, either. Amusement and ego were reason enough, for some.)

It took him far too long to recover, even after Logan had awkwardly retreated to a nearby perch and turned his attention to keeping watch. He felt a burst of frustration as he leaned his head back against the tree trunk and forced his eyes shut.

He’d truly grown too soft, if hardships as simple as these had him in such disarray.

–

The next few days passed in a similar manner, his metaphorical leash swapped between Vee and Logan with just enough irregularity to keep him tense, though he doubted it was on purpose.

He liked to believe he knew the difference between psychological tactics designed to unsettle and the improvised planning skills of a tween, anyways. Even if his shoulders had firmly transitioned from aching to numb by this point.

It wasn’t like they had much of a reference for human durability, even as changelings. There was a big difference between living with humans and living as a human, after all. Janus was mostly just impressed they’d remembered to feed him.

Vee, of all people, had been invaluable in that regard. Patton seemed confused about the logistics of raw versus cooked meat, Ro barely understood what it meant for something to be ‘inedible’, and Remus was actively and blatantly trying to poison him. Eating seemed to be an afterthought to Logan, to the point that Vee was likely the only reason he hadn’t wasted away.

That wasn’t to say meals were pleasant. Vee provided him with the bare minimum as though daring him to say something about it, a challenge that Janus wisely refrained from rising to. The lack of complaint only seemed to make the kid angrier, though, so there was no winning.

He wasn’t allowed to forage for ingredients, despite the fact that his oath wouldn’t have let him attempt to poison them if he’d wanted to, so it was only natural that the issue of rations would come up sooner rather than later.

“There should be a town nearby. I have enough coin to buy provisions, and could likely barter for anything else we might need,” he mentioned, already anticipating the wall of suspicion his words would be met with.

“As if you could be trusted to wander around a human town,” Vee snapped. “Do you think we’re stupid?”

“Of course not.” Janus barely held back an eyeroll. “I’m simply beginning to wonder if you actually understand how a blood oath works.”

“You–!”

“It’s an unnecessary risk,” Logan cut in, effectively ending the discussion. “We’re getting by fine as it is.”

Humans needed to eat more regularly than most fae, which meant that Janus didn’t particularly agree with that assessment of the situation, but he wasn’t about to say as much. The only one who seemed to know anything specific about human needs was Vee, who had already made it quite clear that he didn’t care to fulfill Janus’s.

Janus set his jaw, and didn't contradict him.

So be it. It was only for a little while. He’d endured much worse for much longer.

Things proceeded like that for another few days, with Logan plotting out a new and improved course towards the mountains and Vee herding the other changelings away from Janus like an agitated sheepdog at every opportunity.

They might have continued like that for weeks, held fast to an uneasy, meaningless truce all the way until the end of the oath period, if Logan hadn’t fallen ill.

#sanders sides fic #ts janus #ts virgil #ts logan #ts roman #ts remus #ts patton #carry them home #cth #my writing #writing

[loki-cees-all]

Chapter 4 - Looking Through the Rust and Rotten Dust {TLTGYA - Post-TVA!Loki x OFC Longfic}

Previous Chapter / TLTGYA Masterlist / A03 Link / Next Chapter

Pairing : Post-TVA!Loki x Oliviette (OFC)

Chapter Summary : Oliviette attempts to escape on her own, and she finds out just how difficult that’s going to be. 

Chapter W/c : 2.8k words

Chapter Tags / Content : Angst, some mild violence.

Author's Note : Again, sorry this chapter is a bit late! That S2 finale really messed me up emotionally. Anyway! Happy reading!

18+ Only - Minors DNI

✦ ─── ⊹ ─── • ° • ─ ☽ ─ • ° • ─── ⊹ ─── ✦

As Loki retreated to the shadows once again, Oliviette felt a wave of confusion wash over her. She hadn’t been expecting things to escalate so quickly, or that the walls he’d put up would be so strong. Apparently it was going to take much more than bread and hope to tear them down. 

But would anything be able to do that? Whatever happened to him, whether it was his fault or not, must have been truly horrifying. Ultimately, he was right though - Oliviette knew nothing about him, and she probably didn’t have enough time to figure him out, to really understand what he was hiding from. 

Like how he could have survived for so long without food, or how he could have snuck into the dungeon without the guards knowing. It almost seemed impossible, unless the guards really weren’t paying attention…Or maybe Loki was lying. Maybe he was dangerous. Maybe he did deserve to be there…

Even still, she couldn’t shake the feeling that he wasn’t a monster - he was just supremely heartbroken about something. And it must have been agonizing for him to leave the shadows, even for that short period of time, and almost immediately she’d pushed him to retreat again. Maybe she should have answered truthfully about why the guards were feeding her, or at least why she thought they were feeding her. And if they knew who she was, and took her anyway, then there was no telling what else they were going to do to her.

Oliviette replayed the conversation over and over as she forced herself to finish the remaining porridge on the tray. It was cold and mushy, disgusting and cruel, and the very definition of unappetizing. The question of Loki placed every spoonful, and Oliviette struggled to keep her mind focused as she choked down every bite; because the more she thought about what it was going to take to get out of there, the more strength she knew she was going to need. 

And Loki clearly didn’t want any part in breaking out, so porridge and determination was all she had. It was up to her to make her own escape, as difficult as that was going to be with one good arm. It would be so much easier to do this with a partner, but Oliviette was already used to taking care of herself. Besides, if Loki could sneak in to the dungeon, then she could probably sneak out of it; and with a belly full of food and a relatively still dungeon, it was now or never. 

Quietly moving the tray to the side, Oliviette shifted her position on the floor and carefully lifted the cloak over her head. The cold dungeon air was sharp and biting, but she was sure she’d warm up once she started running, and right now she needed her arm stabilized. 

Across the cell, she could hear Loki groaning and stirring; he must have fallen asleep again, having another nightmare. Oliviette paused, waiting to see if he would startle awake again, but his nightmares continued. Again, she wondered what could have happened to force this outcome upon him, to make him believe that nightmares were more comfortable than reality, to make him resist leaving them behind when they could just as easily be brought with him. 

But she knew she couldn’t force him to do anything. It wasn’t fair, but if it was Tereth’s will for Loki to stay, and for her to leave, then so be it. 

Steeling her jaw, she clumsily wrapped the cloth underneath her damaged arm, pulling one end around her back and over the opposite shoulder. Oliviette kept the arm close to her torso as she manipulated the cloak around her neck. Tying the two ends together to form a sling was difficult, but she managed to get it done with one hand and her teeth. 

Oliviette grimaced as she carefully pushed herself to standing. She was still dizzy and weak from the initial blows when she was first taken; and while the sling wasn’t perfect, it would at least keep her arm stable long enough to focus on other, more important tasks at hand. 

Loki groaned again in his sleep, louder this time, and Oliviette froze, praying the he wouldn’t cry out again and alert any nearby guards. She thought about waking him up, but as far as she knew, consciousness never came easy for him. It was best to just leave him be. 

Shuffling quietly across the stone floor, Oliviette peaked through the steel bars to look up and down the hallway. It was empty, no signs of any masked guards, and it was quiet - nothing save for water droplets and fear hanging heavy in the air to let her know that she was still alive, and to insist that she kept moving forward. 

She recited a silent prayer to Tereth and took a deep breath to steady herself, and then carefully lifted her dagger between the steel bars and turned her wrist, using the blade to try to free the locking bolt from its sheath. Her movements were slow and clumsy with her non-dominant hand, and at some point the bolt had warped inside the sheath, making it almost impossible to unlock easily. 

Oliviette groaned in frustration, pressing herself against the bars and flexing her muscles as she stretched and contorted her arm, but the knife slipped across the steel over and over again. Tears flooded her eyes as she struggled, and every sound in the dungeon made her heart lurch into her throat. 

What if the guards heard her trying and failing to get out? What if one of them turned down the hallway at that exact moment? What would they do to her then? She couldn’t let herself think about it, but she also couldn’t stop herself from panicking. 

Tereth, please! Please help me get out of here! 

The knife slipped again, and she prayed as hard as she could, using every ounce of faith still buried deep in her soul. This couldn’t be where she would meet her end, not when she had just broken free - 

At long last, the bolt popped out of its sheath with a loud, echoing clank. Oliviette gasped in relief, and a nervous smile graced her features. Her skin prickled with goosebumps as the door to her salvation finally unlocked and cleared the way for her. 

But she hesitated to push it all the way open; unlocking the door hadn’t been the hard part, not really. What was going to come next? Make her way through the dungeon, avoid being found by the masked guards, and somehow find her way back home? 

Even after all of this, she still wasn’t sure that was where she wanted to be. To go back home with her tail tucked between her legs - Oliviette could already hear the taunts from her sister, the judgment from her father, the sheer misery that awaited her back home - and that was only if she was able to get out of here alive. 

Maybe it would be better to wait for rescue instead. Surely they would have reported her missing at the castle by now; but then again, her father may have simply accepted her absence without question. As far as they knew, nothing had gone awry on her journey - she had always talked about leaving, and she had packed a bag and taken her staff with her. 

Oliviette cursed silently as she remembered her staff, the prized weapon bestowed upon her when she came of age. The one she’d trained, and was extremely proficient with, for years - using her now damaged arm, of course. The guards must have stashed it somewhere, along with her other personal effects, things she’d need to survive on the unknown journey back home…if that’s where she was going. 

Wrapping her fingers around the bars of the door, Oliviette cautiously pushed it open, careful to avoid the creaking of its hinges and not let its mass get away from her too quickly. Her mind reeled with terrifying possibilities as she stepped out into the empty hallway, glancing left and right as she weighed her options. 

The guards always came from the right, so she’d take her chances on the left. 

Oliviette pulled the door closed after her, slowly and quietly. As she looked back into the cell, towards the shadows where the broken man lay suffering, she wondered what he’d do if he knew the door was unlocked. Would he follow her then, or was something more powerful than steel and stone keeping him trapped in there? 

She decided against re-locking the door, instead just positioning the bolt above its sheath without pushing it all the way back down; it would still appear engaged from down the hallway, and maybe Loki would be able to see his chance for freedom while still inside the cell. 

Oliviette hoped he’d see it, and she prayed that he’d take that chance. 

The hallways of the dungeon were a labyrinth of rot and decay, coldness and death, darkness and uncertainty. It was quiet, not a soul moving or crying out, and Oliviette felt like she was moving through a dream. The only sounds were her boots against the stone floor, and her shuddering breath moving in and out. 

As she passed by neighboring cells, she paused to look inside. They were just as dirty and rotten as the one she was kept in, filled with darkness and various shadows that either could be a person, or at least used to be. Oliviette thought about how they wound up there, if they were taken in the same manner she was, and how none of this was fair to any of them. 

“Hello? Is someone there?” she murmured quietly, unsure of the reaction she would get or if anyone was even alive in there, but she couldn’t just move on if there was a chance someone else could be saved. There was no response, and Oliviette gripped her dagger tightly as she carried on. 

Eventually, she came upon a staircase, rising up into the unknown darkness. No lanterns illuminated the space, and the threat of doom lead the way. She briefly turned back towards the way she came, wishing she wasn’t doing this alone; but she was, and so she did. 

Oliviette took the steps cautiously, one at a time, following them upwards as the staircase twisted in its elevation. Her heart pounded in her chest, and her lips parted to gather any extra oxygen they could get. Her eyes were wide, pupils surely blown with fear in the pitch blackness, and she tried her best to will away the blood rushing in her eardrums; she desperately needed to be able to hear clearly, to know if someone was approaching before the guards even knew she was out of her cell. 

On the final turn, the shadows began to recede and carefully-considered lantern light kissed the stone floors and walls. It was brighter up here, and relatively cleaner, but it was still a dungeon, still devoid of any warmth or peace. There still weren’t any windows, and there was no way of telling if this level was above ground, or still below it. 

The hallway before her was wide and long, with doors to the right and to the left. Not barred doors - proper doors, as if whomever resided up here was because it was their choice. Because they wanted to be here, because they believed in what they were doing here. 

Oliviette swallowed hard and stepped cautiously to the first open door, peeking her head inside with a shuddered breath. There was nobody inside, nor was there much to speak of in terms of furnishings - just two cots on either side of the room, and a large desk covered with scrolls and writing utensils in the middle. 

She stepped towards the desk warily, her eyes narrowing as she examined the notes and plans scribbled furiously on the papers. Most of the words were indecipherable, but one word repeated over and over on the sheets : Anathema. 

Oliviette had no idea who or what that meant, but the name didn’t sound comforting. She returned the papers to the desk when a large wooden trunk caught her eye, and she quickly crouched down to pull it open. She rifled through it one-handed, hoping she’d find something that belonged to her. 

But there was nothing save for old tunics, thick wool socks, and several faded drawings of a mysterious woman. It was hard to make out who the figure was, but she was ethereal - almost coming to life on the paper itself in shades of washed-out sapphire ink. She had long, flowing hair and her arms were drawn extended from her sides: one set of fingers curled elegantly around the neck of a stringed instrument, and the other tangled playfully in her hair. 

The woman’s smile was electric and taunting, almost disingenuous if you looked from the wrong angle, and dangling around her neck was a gem, so familiar to Oliviette that she had to do a second, and then a third, take. Who was this woman? Was she somehow in charge of this place? 

“How did you get out of your cell?” 

The muffled voice was calm and collected, but it startled Oliviette all the same. She jumped up and turned towards the man in a crimson mask, holding the dagger out as she backed away. “Just stay away from me. I don’t want any trouble, I just want to go home!” 

The masked man chuckled and tilted his head. “No trouble? Then you definitely should have stayed in your cell, and your castle…” 

He practically spit out that last word, his voice full of disdain and mockery as he stood in front of the doorway, blocking the only exit to the room. His posture was relaxed, but that just made him that much more intimidating. 

Oliviette’s back pressed against the wall, her fingers squeezed nervously around the hilt of her dagger as the man started to slowly approach. 

“If you know who I am, then you know how much trouble you’ll be in once I’m rescued!” she threatened, hoping she sounded convincing. 

The man didn’t even hesitate as he continued stepping forward, undeterred by her threats. “That’s precious - but don’t fret. We’ve already accounted for all that…” 

Oliviette’s heart dropped. She wasn’t sure if she was going to be able to fight with her small blade, or her non-dominant hand. She quickly scanned the room for anything she could use to help her escape, and her eyes landed on a lantern dangling above one of the cots. 

 “Please, I’m begging you, you don’t have to do this. We can forget this whole thing…” she begged, stalling for time as she inched along the perimeter of the wall and adjusted her damaged arm inside the sling, preparing herself to use it if necessary. 

“Oh, Oliviette,” the masked man laughed again as he brought his boot to the desk and pushed it out of the way. “What is gone…may never return…” 

That could have been a threat or a promise, and so Oliviette immediately yanked her good arm from her cloak and lunged for the lantern. The man followed after, reaching out to grab her shirt and pull her away. 

Oliviette cried out in pain as she swung as hard as she could, and the lantern glass shattered as it collided with the masked man’s head. He went down hard, pulling her down with him to crash violently against the cot below, and then to the stone floor. 

She landed on her shoulder, the already broken one, and cried out again as her nerve endings fired off burning signals of searing agony. Tears stung her eyes, but she didn’t have time to focus on the injury, too busy instead trying to scramble back to her feet. 

The masked man was still out cold, and Oliviette groaned as she switched the dagger to her dominant hand, moving closer to stand over the masked man, hesitating. She’d never killed anyone before; she’d never needed to. She wasn’t even sure if she could do something so permanent, something that might haunt her forever if she somehow managed to survive this. 

He lay unmoving on the ground, unaware of what was about to happen to him. It should have been an easy thing to do, right? He was going to kill her eventually; they all were, after torturing her first. No one think twice about this course of action, and yet, she still hesitated. 

Oliviette hadn’t left home for this. She wanted new experiences and happy adventures and to find herself - but not with a dagger in her hand, and not locked in a dungeon, deep underground and surrounded by masked guards that worshiped whomever Anathema was, and probably tortured and killed for. 

She crouched down, pressing her dagger against the man’s throat as he lay flat on his back, and a tear rolled down Oliviette’s cheek. Just as she let out a deep breath and started to press, two sets of hands grabbed her arms to violently pull her back. 

“No! No - ” Oliviette shouted just as a blunt object collided with her skull, and she went limp.

✦ ─── ⊹ ─── • ° • ─ ☽ ─ • ° • ─── ⊹ ─── ✦

Click here to be added to my Loki fic tag list! 💚

Previous Chapter / TLTGYA Masterlist / A03 Link / Next Chapter

#loki x original female character #loki #loki fanfiction #loki angst #loki laufeyson #loki x ofc #loki imagine #loki smut #slow burn #mutual pining #loki x oc #tva loki #loki fanfic #loki odinson #loki fic #loki mcu #marvel #imagine #fanfic #smut #fluff #angst #loki imagines #loki fluff #hurt/comfort #loki hurt/comfort #loki mutual pining #loki x reader #TLTGYA