#in a way worth of the lord of chaos

[itsswritten]

Naughty little shadows | 1

Request: From anon “Maybe Az meeting his mate for the first time and his shadows are just flowing all around her?”

Pairing: azriel x reader

Word count: 2.5K

Summary: You and Azriel begin to navigate the new complexities of your mating bond, but you quickly realise how dangerous this could become. Is being mated to the Shadowsinger worth your safety?

A/n: This can be read as a one-shot, but I've now started writing a series for it! Enjoy <3 - L

The vibrant hues of Velaris stretched before Azriel, a tapestry of memories and moments woven into the very fabric of his home. The city, a testament to the resilience of its inhabitants, exuded a captivating energy. As he strolled through the bustling streets with his friends, a sense of peace settled over him.

The Rainbow, a haven of creativity, beckoned with its kaleidoscope of experiences, and that's where Feyre, in need of new art supplies, led the way. Various shops promised a journey through imagination, and Azriel found himself following behind Feyre and Rhys. Nesta and Cassian had slipped off to explore other stores, and Mor had opted to visit a new coffee shop, leaving Azriel third-wheeling with his High Lord and Lady.

The art supply shop they entered was a sanctuary of creativity. Brushes, each bristle seemingly crafted from the essence of petals and exotic hairs, gleamed with a touch of magic. Paints, swirling with the colours of distant galaxies, somehow encapsulated feelings, sounds, and smells, not just colours. The air hummed with an enchanting melody as Azriel's keen eyes observed the whimsical tools and supplies adorning the shelves.

At the counter, Feyre engaged with the older shop owner, inquiring about a particular paint she had been eagerly awaiting. As Azriel wandered through the store, his attention was captured by the myriad artworks hung on the walls.

The tranquillity was abruptly shattered by a sudden gasp and the clatter of falling art supplies from around the corner. Azriel, drawn from his thoughts, pivoted toward the commotion. As he turned the corner with his friends, he discovered you, the shop assistant, amidst an unexpected mess. A paint that resembled the feeling of a cosy evening covered you, the oranges and reds oozing down the front of your dungarees as the smell of firewood crackled from the paint. It was a mess, a pretty mess, Azriel thought as he gazed down at the stranger.

"Oh no!" you exclaimed, a mixture of concern and exasperation evident. Azriel quickly assessed the scene, finding something that had slipped his attention completely. His shadows. Clinging to you in a swirling dance of fascination.

"Oh, for cauldron's sake, why are you so clumsy?" The shop owner remarked with an eye roll, though the tone softened with familiarity.

"I promise it wasn't my fault this time" you muttered, your wide eyes gesturing toward the shadows that continued to swirl around your body. That’s when Azriel realised that it was his shadows that had caused the disruption, somehow creating the mess before him.

In the midst of the chaos, Feyre recognised you and called out your name. Meanwhile, Rhysand and Feyre exchanged glances, a silent communication of Azriel's misbehaving shadows. Azriel, realising the attention drawn to his unruly shadows, quickly reeled them in with a focused exertion of his will. With the shadows back under control, he moved swiftly to help you on your feet.

~~~

In the back of the art supply shop, you found yourself perched on a stool, cradling a cup of coffee. Feyre, armed with her magical prowess, had successfully banished the paint from your clothing and face, allowing you both a moment of reprieve in the small kitchen area. Rhysand had excused himself to explore the shop further, leaving you and Feyre to a moment for yourselves.

"I'm really sorry about the mess and the disruption," you apologised, a touch of embarrassment colouring your eyes.

Feyre chuckled, dismissing your concern with a wave of her hand. "No need to apologise, it wasn’t even your fault. It's been ages since I've seen you." She paused and, with a knowing glint in her eyes, added, "About Azriel’s shadows-"

As if summoned by his name, Azriel entered the back area, his shadows, typically obedient, were restless around you. They flickered and danced, some daring to slip past him in an attempt to reach out to you. Azriel, his stoic expression betraying a hint of frustration, spoke up, "I apologise for my shadows. They're usually more well-behaved."

You couldn't help but smile, shaking your head. "No need to apologise. They just startled me a bit." Pausing for a moment, you added with a genuine grin, "I actually find them rather lovely."

The admission caught Azriel off guard, a strange sensation pulling at his chest, accompanied by a noticeable warmth in his cheeks. Rhys, who had returned at just the right moment, found it hard to conceal a smirk at Azriel's uncharacteristic display of emotions.

In the quietude of the art supply shop, Feyre noticed the lull in conversation and seized the opportunity to introduce you formally.

"This is Y/N," Feyre began, her eyes sparkling with genuine admiration. "An incredible painter and maker. Y/N has a way of infusing magic into her paints, capturing feelings and visions within the colours. It's truly magical"

As you bowed your head slightly in acknowledgment, Feyre continued the introductions, "Y/N, meet Rhysand, my mate." Rhysand inclined his head with a warm smile. None of the Inner Circle needed real introductions; you were keenly aware of who they all were.

"And this is Azriel, our Shadowsinger," she added, turning your attention to the lean figure leaning against the door frame. Dressed in more casual attire, Azriel exuded an air of mystery. His rugged features, carved with precision, added to the allure of his presence. A cascade of midnight hair framed his face, partially hiding the shadows that lingered around him like ethereal companions. You almost forgot to breathe at his beauty.

His shadows, normally a well-behaved extension of himself, struggled to maintain composure around you. One shadow slipped past Azriel, swirling around your wrist and hand, the cool sensation dancing against your skin. As you held your hand up to admire the intricate dance, the shadows whirled between your fingers, creating an ethereal display.

"Wow, they're so beautiful," you whispered, a compliment that seemed to stir something within Azriel. More shadows gathered around you, caressing your face as a thank you for the kind words, eliciting a giggle from you. With wide eyes, an idea struck you, and you turned to Feyre with enthusiasm.

"Oh, Feyre, how amazing would it be to create a paint like these shadows?"

Feyre's eyes sparkled with inspiration as the idea of creating a paint to emulate the colours, shapes, and glimmers of Azriel's shadows excited her.

"Would you mind?" she asked Azriel, her excitement palpable. Still dumbfounded by the effect you were having on his shadows, Azriel was caught in a moment of bewilderment. Before he could form a response, you chimed in, "I'd only need to study them for a bit."

Feyre, unable to contain her enthusiasm, jumped in, pleading, "Oh, please, Azriel, you have to agree. This would be incredible!" The plea was unnecessary, for Azriel found himself intrigued by the idea. A moment alone with you, a chance to unravel the mystery of why his shadows were reacting this way — it was an opportunity he couldn't resist.

~~~ After the warm tones  of Velaris’ sky had dimmed and Feyre and Rhysand had taken their leave, Azriel remained. The anticipation buzzed between you and the shadowsinger as you invited him into the warmth of your workshop. The door shut behind him, the sign flipped to "closed," and you guided him through a magical haven that resembled both an artist's studio and a witch's potion kitchen.

The workshop exudes warmth, its walls painted in deep, rich tones absorbing and emanating the flickering light of candles scattered throughout. Shelves were brimming with paints, brushes, and mysterious ingredients, giving the space an enchanting but slightly chaotic charm. A fireplace crackled, casting dancing shadows on the cauldron bubbling with a mysterious liquid.

"Come sit," you warmly invited, patting a stool, and Azriel obliged. Pulling his wings tight within the tiny workshop. On the workshop table, a plate of pastries and a jug of homemade lemonade awaited him, a gesture of appreciation for the busy shadowsinger who had made time for this unusual venture. "Help yourself, I got them for you," you motioned to the treats. Azriel thanked you and gracefully picked up a pastry to try.

Seated across from him, you brought out a notebook with scrawls of your pretty but messy handwriting and splatters of paint marking the pages. Azriel thought it was interesting how your handwriting practically mirrored you, you were a pretty flurry of warmth. "I've already started making a list of the components I think I might need to make this, but it'll be good to compare while I do."

Azriel's demeanour, usually composed, shifted subtly. His shadows, kept in check but eager, itched to be released and touch you. As you flipped through the notebook, you discussed potential ingredients.

With a playful glint in your eyes, you turned your attention to Azriel's shadows, seeking permission with a simple, "Can I?" He nodded, granting you consent, and in response, the shadows were released from their leash. A soft giggle escaped your lips as they swirled around you once more, playfully entwining themselves in your hair. The sight brought a rare, soft smile to Azriel's lips; he had never seen his shadows behave in such a manner.

As you began to gather ingredients for the magical paint, Azriel decided to strike up a conversation. "Tell me about yourself," he inquired, with genuine curiosity in his voice. You multitasked effortlessly, studying the swirling shadows around you while crossing out ingredients on your list that didn't seem quite right.

You shared snippets of your life, your love for painting, and how you and Feyre met. Rhysand had originally commissioned the store to create a paint that reflected the colour of Feyre's essence, and so you had invited her into your workshop not too dissimilar to this encounter now to create it. Feyre was loyal in her custom, and from then on only bought paint from you.

Cedarwood, Nightshade, Shadowroot extract, and other whimsical ingredients found their way into the mixing bowl as you spoke. In the midst of your tasks, you glanced up at Azriel, a perplexed expression on your face. You looked rather lovely, Azriel had thought to himself. The same compliment that had left your lips about his shadows had found you instead, paint splatters covering your flushed cheeks.

"Hmm, there's something missing," you mused, examining the shadows closely. Then, your gaze shifted to Azriel as if the answer lay within him. "Of course," you gleamed, realisation dawning. "A touch of starlight." The unexpected description hung in the air, and Azriel couldn't help but feel a peculiar mix of surprise at being associated with something as ethereal as starlight.

"Really?" Azriel questioned, his surprise and insecurities slightly evident, and you nodded with a softness in your expression. "Your shadows may be dark and mysterious, but right there underneath, I can see it. Starlight." Were you speaking only of his shadows? The shadows were an extension of himself, you could feel that. And with every mix of the bowl you realised this paint was as much a reflection of Azriel as it was his little shadows.

Turning to a jar on the top shelf, you found yourself momentarily thwarted by the giant jar of starlight. It sat just out of reach, teasingly glimmering in its container. Azriel, sensing your struggle, stepped forward, his lean frame manoeuvring seamlessly. In an instant, he was behind you, body pressed gently against yours. His tall form easily reached the top shelf, his hand effortlessly capturing the jar of silver liquid.

The warmth of his proximity sent a subtle flush to your cheeks, a mixture of embarrassment and an unfamiliar exhilaration. Azriel, ever so composed, masked the primal stirrings deep within, letting a subtle cough leave his lips as he moved to your side.

As Azriel retrieved the jar, you turned to him, an embarrassed yet grateful smile playing on your lips. "Thank you," you murmured, your voice betraying a trace of the lingering intimacy. In response, Azriel nodded, his shadows seemingly dancing with the newfound intimacy their master had just received. 

With the iridescent honey-like fluid added, you took over the task of stirring, the hues in the concoction transforming into a mesmerising blend beneath your skilled hand. The shadows watched, their ethereal forms pulsating with the vibrant energy of the mixture. Once satisfied with the shade, you reached for a canvas and a paintbrush.

Delicately, you dipped the brush into the new mixture, and with a stroke, the canvas came alive. The vibrancy of shadows and light intertwined, creating an otherworldly dance on the page.

"Gosh..." you whispered, looking down in amazement at the colours beneath you. Azriel had looked up now, his shadows beginning to swirl around both of you. The air seemed to thin as a pull tugged at his chest. You were muttering that this was definitely going to become a new bestseller, but before you could finish your sentence, something pulled your gaze to him.

In the intimate space of the small workshop, his wings stood taut against his back. The ethereal appendages, dark and majestic, vibrated subtly as something began to ripple.

A snap-

A golden thread pulled between your chests, warmth spreading through your bodies. Azriel's hand clasped over his chest, while you stumbled back in awe.

The mating bond.

Azriel, who had longed for this connection for centuries, found himself staring into your eyes with a mixture of shock and awe. Was it really his turn? Now finally, after all this time. He finally had something that was his. Azriel couldn't help but feel a twinge of fear. Fear that you might not want this, might not want him. He watched you closely. Would you even want him as a mate?

You were a couple steps away from Azriel, hand on your heart as your chest heaved up and down. Never in your life had you thought you’d be blessed with something like this, something so special. And with Azriel of all people. Probably the most beautiful male you’d ever met. 

You could sense his hesitation, the bond snapping opening you up to an understanding of your mate and you could sense the fear underneath it all. You reached out gently, stepping forward taking his large hands into yours. Rubbing gently over the scars that covered them.

Azriel breathed at your touch. He hadn’t realised he’d stopped, bringing his forehead to rest down against yours. 

“You’re my mate” he said, almost in disbelief but the words coming out actualised them.

“I’m yours Azriel..” you whispered with slight embarrassment at the declaration. But it was true, you could feel it. You were happy to be completely all his.

“All mine” you felt his voice vibrate within you as he used the bond to communicate.

Suddenly, his shadows responded to the bond. They enveloped you, a flurry of ethereal tendrils fussing over you like protective sentinels. The shadows caressed your flushed, warm face, leaving gentle kisses in their wake.

It was as if his shadows had always known, right from the beginning of their encounter in that shop. Sensing something concealed beneath the surface, they could have patiently awaited the right circumstances that would have naturally unfolded with time. However, when a mere stumble proved to be the catalyst for a chain of events, it would have been a disservice to their master not to step in.

Naughty little shadows.

Next Part >>

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #acotar #acotar azriel #acotar series #acotar fanfiction #azriel spymaster #azriel shadowsinger

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Practice On Me — Part Six — Azriel x Reader

Note — Tumblr still isn’t allowing me to tag some of you. I’ll keep trying but if you haven’t already, make sure you check in settings that your username is able to be searched/tagged! Mwah 💕

Summary: Reader seeks comfort after the events in Fenlaros. Lines are crossed that can’t be uncrossed. Actions come with consequences.

Word Count: 6.9k

Warnings: Some violence. Things get fiiiilthy. 18+, NSFW, smut, minors dni.

It’s not clear who punches who first, because fists are flying left and right. The male in front of you lands a harsh hit on your cheek, the metal of a ring catching your skin, but there’s no chance to register the burst of pain, because you’re being shoved, and you’re shoving back, and your knuckles are pummelling into another male’s face while his friend sends a punch straight into your gut.

It’s that impact that winds you too much to move. You’re doubling over, trying to draw breath while the fight continues around you. The same male goes to hit you a second time.

But he doesn’t have a chance as Rhys comes lunging at him and knocks him to the floor. Your friend is as flawless with his fists as he is with steel. The Fenlaros male doesn’t stand a chance against him.

This is…this is bad. If you can somehow round your friends up and get out of there before it gets any worse, you may be able to escape the repercussions. A fight like this between two camps could carry a punishment anywhere from revoked privileges to an outright flogging. You’d really rather not face a disgruntled Lord of Windhaven upon your return.

Through the brawl, you’re searching for both Azriel and Cassian. You’ve lost sight of them both completely. And you know they can hold their own, that they’re some of the best fighters in all of Illyria, but the four of you are vastly outnumbered. Even the trio of your closest friends have limits, and being dogpiled by a group of males out for blood surely brings them close to theirs.

Someone grabs the back of your shirt, and with your breath having returned to you somewhat, you round on them, ready to defend yourself once more. However, it’s Cassian who looms over you, hair tousled and shirt wrinkled.

He yells at you over the noise, “This is getting out of hand! We need to get out of here!”

Thank gods he’s choosing to be sensible for once. You suppose even Cass knows when a fight is worth having.

“I’m trying to find Az!” You shout back. “I don’t know where he—”

“Kaeda already pulled him out. Let’s grab Rhys and go!”

Now is a really, really inappropriate time to feel jealous.

And yet jealous, you are.

And maybe even a little hurt, too. Did Az even try to find you before making an exit with Kaeda?

You banish the thoughts, allowing Cassian to wrench you through the people and mostly avoid getting hurt, besides the odd wayward fist that isn’t intended for you. The second he spots Rhys, still fighting with the male who winded you, he’s grabbing him firmly by the collar of his shirt and leaving no room for protest.

“We’re getting out of here before this turns really bloody.” He tells him loudly.

Rhys doesn’t put up a fight. He nods, straight on board with the exit strategy. His wild, alert gaze swivels to study you. “You’re alright?”

“Fine.” You nod. “Let’s go.”

It turns out the exit strategy is to just shove through hordes of people until you find a way out. Rhys is keeping hold of Cassian and you’re keeping hold of Rhys, and the three of you create an aggressive little train that wends through the chaos until cold air washes over you, and you’re spilling out onto the front path. You can hear the distant whoosh and thwack of the Fenlaros lot having no choice but to turn on each other.

“Y/N!”

You turn, just in time to see Az pushing away from a wall, Kaeda in tow. She carries a bloodied dish rag that she was clearly using to dab at his bust lip, but she falls back as Az strides over to you.

“I was looking for you everywhere.” He grabs your chin in his hand, turning your head to the side. “Your cheek is cut.”

You stare back at him, waiting for him to say something — something that even vaguely resembles an explanation as to why he started all of this.

“We should really get out of here—”

“Does it hurt?” He interrupts Rhysand’s interjection, his touch gentle despite the ferocity in his gaze. His thumb brushes over your cheek.

You’re too pissed off to care about his concern.

“I’ll live.” You snap, shoving him away from you. “Azriel, what the fuck?”

“My sentiments entirely.” Cass mumbles.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You continue. “You were the one who said coming here was nothing to be worried about, and then you start that? Have you totally lost your mind?”

“My sentiments entirely.” Rhys echoes.

A muscle in Azriel’s jaw ticks. He takes a step back, swallowing hard. “Sorry for being protective—”

“Possessive, more like—”

“It’s my fault.”

Both your heads snap round as Kaeda steps closer. She stares between you, wide-eyed. Doe-eyed. Looking like she stole the last slice of cake and has a litany of evidence stacked against her.

“He was being protective over me.” She says, and you freeze. She angles herself towards Azriel. “I shouldn’t have mentioned that Thedis and I have history. I don’t know why I did. I’m sorry, I—I didn’t think you’d react like that.”

Oh.

Oh.

That’s—that’s not what you thought was happening.

Clearly, you and Kaeda have two very different understandings of what went down.

You study Az closely, waiting for his reaction — to see if Kaeda is right, and it wasn’t you he was starting a fight over at all.

He stares at her like she’s spoken in a foreign tongue. He opens his mouth.

“Shit.” Kaeda swears suddenly, looking past him. “Shit, that’s my father.”

Each of you swivels around to see the colossal male striding down the path towards you, two slightly — very slightly — smaller males flanking either side of him. His long hair falls about his head in unruly waves, and there’s something ruggedly handsome about his face that kind of makes you want him to smother you with his ridiculously huge bicep. Everything about him is dark. His eyes and his beard and the whorls of Illyrian tattoos that cover the expanse of his neck.

This…this is a male who could snuff out a family of six just by looking in their direction. And his gaze zeroes in entirely on Azriel.

Cassian yanks you closer by the back of your shirt. “Let’s go—”

“He’s going to want to speak with you.” Kaeda turns to Azriel. “You’re the only shadowsinger around here. He knows who you are. He’s intrigued by your power.”

Az continues to watch his approach. And then he squares his shoulders. “Fine.” He doesn’t even glance your way as he says, “I’ll see the rest of you back in Windhaven.”

You don’t like this. Not one bit. Who knows what the male might do to Azriel? You want to say something, to protest—

But Kaeda links her arm through his, and you know there’s no point. This isn’t your fight.

“Don’t get yourself into even deeper shit.” Cassian says, lifting you into his arms.

Kaeda doesn’t seem worried. She rolls her eyes at that. “He’s not going to hurt him.”

You can’t help staring at her. She seems so sure, so unbothered. Not just by what her father might have in store, but by the entire situation. She seems almost…smug.

Az did start an entire fucking brawl over her, after all.

You can’t meet his gaze as you cling to Cassian. Too much has happened in a short space of time. It makes you feel…full. Uncomfortable. You need some space from Az to process what exactly just occurred.

And it seems like your wish will be granted. It’s clear, as he steps closer, that Kaeda’s father has no interest in the rest of you. His cat-like eyes follow a shadow that coils around your friend, and you could swear his lips want to smirk. Like there’s some inside joke the rest of you aren’t privy to.

“Go.” Azriel says, and neither Rhys nor Cass need telling twice. They don’t seem particularly concerned.

Your gaze snags on Az just as Cassian’s arms tighten around you, and he shoots into the skies with an unpleasantly steep climb. Rhys does the same.

And as Kaeda and Azriel become smaller the higher you go, you’re just able to glimpse Kaeda’s father stopping before him and shaking his hand. It’s then that you look away.

This isn’t for you to worry about. It’s—

It’s between him and Kaeda.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

The thing about flying — or, in your case, being flown — is that it’s invaluable for moments of pensiveness. There’s no better time to face your thoughts than when the clarity of the sky stretches all around you.

But that can also be really fucking dangerous. Because you think. And then you think some more. And then suddenly, you’re thinking about anything and everything all at once, thinking about ifs, buts, maybes, thinking yourself into a bad mood.

And that is precisely what you do.

You are pissed the fuck off.

So pissed off, you want to scream into the void, at the shifting landscape below. You’re pissed off with Azriel, with his actions, with your entire situation.

He has never been as stupid, as reckless, as he has been recently. Never did you think you’d see a day where Cassian was the more sensible of the two. You’re used to Az being the mediator, to always approaching situations with a rational mind.

And yet these days, he’s a ticking time bomb. You don’t know who he might have a problem with, and clearly you don’t know why, given that you so wrongly assumed his protectiveness — possessiveness — flared up over you.

Of course it was Kaeda. How stupid you are.

Lust is one hell of a blinding light.

Every few seconds, you tell yourself you’re not going to think about it. And then a few seconds after that, you’re straight back to that constant screech of AZRIELANDKAEDAAZRIELANDKAEDAAZRIELANDKAEDA.

If this is who he’s becoming because of her…you’re not sure that’s a good thing.

By the time Cassian is setting you down in front of the cottage, your mood is absolutely foul. You feel sobered by the situation. You may as well have not had a drop of alcohol at all.

Rhys doesn’t stick around. He tells you and Cass that he’s going to Velaris — he wants to explain what happened in Fenlaros to his father before the High Lord can hear it from anyone else. And so it’s just you and Cassian traipsing into the cottage, freezing cold and fed up that the night went how it did. Your stomach is starting to ache where the male punched you, the cut on your cheek starting to sting.

You head straight for the kitchen and begin turfing through the cabinets, looking for a half-empty bottle of whiskey or a snack or something. You slam each cabinet door closed, but it does nothing to alleviate your irritation.

Cassian lights a fire, his eyes watching you closely. Perhaps he can sense that something is brewing in your veins. And he’d be right about that — you’re just not sure what it is.

Finally, you sit up on the kitchen counter and settle on biting into a stale bread roll. It’s dry and tasteless, but it occupies your mouth and stops a scream from escaping.

“I want to clean that cut on your cheek.” Cass strides over to the kitchen, rolling the sleeves of his shirt up. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

Only in your heart. “No.” You lie.

He nods, and just like the other night, he begins gathering medical supplies. He’s getting good at this. You kind of want to tell him not to bother, to just let the cut sting, but you’re brooding too much to get the words out.

You swallow down your last, dry bite of bread, and you comment, “I knew going to Fenlaros was a fucking terrible idea.”

Cassian chuckles. There isn’t much that fazes him. “In hindsight, I don’t know what we were thinking.”

“With your cocks, probably.”

He quirks an eyebrow at you, and then his hands are on your knees, parting your legs so he can slot himself in between. You don’t protest; he’ll only start a mother hen routine and threaten to bring you to a healer instead.

He wets a rag and begins to gently dab the gash on your cheek. It hurts, but not enough. Not bad enough to drown out the thoughts of the night’s events. You go through them from start to finish, and you have to suck in a deep breath just to stop yourself from punching something.

Why had Kaeda suggested such a stupid fucking thing?

And okay, you can’t put the blame entirely on her; it’s mostly your jealousy that stokes your anger. You, Azriel, Cassian and Rhys are all fully autonomous adults. Any of you could have shot the idea down and refused to go.

But it just…it just sits funny with you, weird in your chest. Something about it feels…gross.

Again — probably your jealousy talking.

But the entire thing had been a shit show from start to finish. You should have known, from the self-loathing thoughts that were pelting you on the way there, that you should never have gone. And your failure to listen to your gut only worsens your mood.

“You push that brain to think any harder and it’ll explode.” Cassian murmurs, his warm breath fanning your face. “You can share, if you like. I may even be able to dredge up some wisdom to impart.”

You bite down on your lower lip. “Why would Kaeda’s father want to speak with Az?”

It surprises you that the question makes him smile. “I wouldn’t worry over that.” He says. “I imagine he’s more interested in speaking to Az because he’s fucking his daughter than because he came to a rival camp.”

You almost flinch at the words.

Of course, you know that by now, Azriel and Kaeda have probably taken that leap and slept together. But torturing yourself with your thoughts is different to hearing it said aloud, and by someone so close to Az, too.

It hurts. And you want to scratch away at the feeling. It might just be what tips you over.

Cass studies you for a moment, reading the change, the tightening, in your expression. He knows there’s something — but thank the gods he doesn’t know what.

He turns his attention to your hand — your knuckles must have split when you threw a couple of good punches — and he begins to clean it gently.

“Here I am again, eh? Playing healer. I should get myself an apron.”

He’s trying to make you laugh, but you can barely force your lips to twitch upwards. He drinks in your pathetic attempt with a sympathy that you can’t stand. And, sensing that humour isn’t going to be enough tonight, he tries a different approach.

“Talk to me, Y/N.” He pleads softly, dabbing gently at your hand. “Please…”

You frown. You’re thinking and feeling too many things at once to make sense of them. Running through the entire night over and over. You’re not sure which of those feelings will rear its ugly head when you try to speak.

But you open your mouth, and the words just spill out.

“I really fucking hated myself tonight.”

Cassian pauses momentarily. And then he continues his treatment to your wounds. “Y/N, fights break out every other hour—”

“No. Not because of the fight. It wasn’t that.” You swallow a lump down. “It was the flying.”

“…the flying?”

“Being carried by Rhys while the rest of you flew so freely. Knowing I’ll never be able to do that. I’m Illyrian, and yet I’m always going to be confined to the ground. I hated myself—”

“Y/N—”

“I really fucking hated myself, Cass. And to be confronted by that fact every damn time I take my shirt off…to see the fucking hideous remains of my wings—”

Your words are cut short when Cassian’s huge hands grab your face and force you to look at him. It stings the cut on your cheek, but he doesn’t seem to notice as he stares at you fiercely.

“No. Cut that out right now.” A muscle in his jaw moves. You’re looking back at a lesser-spotted serious Cassian. “There is no part of you — not one part — that comes even close to being hideous, scars or no scars. You’re brilliant. Inside and out. You’re fucking beautiful, and I love you, and I won’t have you hating yourself. Particularly not at the hands of your piece of shit father.”

For a moment, you’re so stunned by the impassioned speech that you don’t know what to say. Thanking him wouldn’t be enough. And you think you might want to cry, but tonight, crying wouldn’t be enough, either. Nor would screaming. You just…want to feel something different. Something good.

Something worth feeling.

You stare back at Cassian, and your throat bobs.

And it might be against your better judgement, but you cover his hands with yours, and you haul your mouth to his.

You can’t exactly explain it, but he has a mouth as rugged as his general appearance, something rough and untamed and just…Cassian. It’s exactly what you need in that moment. You kiss him as if you’ve kissed him a thousand times before.

You feel the moment’s hesitation on his end. It’s rare that anything is able to knock him silent, but this most certainly does. After a pause, he rips his mouth away from yours, and he stares at you, wide-eyed and flushed, reading your face as if in search of an answer to an unspoken question.

But his internal battle isn’t a long one. He seems satisfied with whatever conclusion he comes to. And then he’s surging forward and kissing you back, hard.

What follows is not slow nor tentative.

You and Cassian love each other dearly, but there are no illusions that this is anything but needed pleasure. He’s not reciprocating because he’s spent hours daydreaming about this, or because you mean more to him than any other female.

Cassian would fuck a tree if a stirred branch waved in his general direction.

And that is absolutely fine. That is exactly what you need.

He wrenches your legs further apart and yanks you to the very edge of the counter, just so he can get closer, kiss you harder. His hand snakes up the nape of your neck and bunches in your hair, strands of it tangling around his fingers, and he tips your head back, his mouth scorching hot and hungry on yours.

This is not something you’ve ever thought about, because he is just Cassian. He’s the male who pisses you off by leaving weapons lying around under couch cushions, who sings loudly at the top of his voice first thing in the morning, who fights like fighting is going out of fashion. Since the first day you’d met him, when his eleven-year-old self had looked you up and down and challenged you to an arm wrestle, he’s always just been Cassian.

You’ve always needed him in some impulsive, temperamental way — someone who keeps you on your toes, even if you complain about it sometimes. But now, you need him in a different way.

You part your mouth from his, just long enough to rip your shirt off and chuck it vaguely over his shoulder. Cass watches as you unclasp the bandeau that covers your breasts, and that’s being thrown away, too, and now your top half is naked, and Cassian is growling. It’s not even that he hasn’t seen these parts of you before, but you’d think it was the first ever time, going by the way his eyes darken, and a thousand sinful thoughts flit over his face.

“Fuck.” His voice is deeper. Both of his hands cup your breasts, and he kisses you again. “I love these.”

You smile, and you lock your legs around his waist, and you both groan as you yank him as close as he can get, and you’re grinding the centre of you over the bulge in his breeches. That, alone, feels too good — the length of him pushing through the barrier of your clothing. It’s not enough. You need more. You need him inside you.

Cass seems to echo the sentiment as he growls and finally yanks you fully off the counter. “No screwing around.” He says through gritted teeth. “I need to fuck you.”

His hands are at your breeches, and he’s ripping them open, and you’re so wet between your legs that you have to rub your thighs together, desperate for some kind of friction. Cassian notices, of course, and one side of his mouth tips up into a smirk.

“Turn around.”

You do.

You’re happy to be commanded. You don’t want to be in charge, don’t want to teach.

You want to be taken, and you want to be taught.

His rough hands shove your breeches all the way down, and then he’s seeing to his, ripping at the buttons and stays just enough to pull the hard length of him out. You turn your head to drink in the sight, but he doesn’t allow it.

He slams your front against that counter, and then he’s at your back, the head of his cock brushing against you as he murmurs into your ear, “How do you want it?”

You think your mouth might be watering. “Hard.”

“Hard?”

“Hard.”

“Brace yourself, then, sweetpea.” He grabs your hands, plants them firmly on the counter, calluses biting into your skin. His teeth graze the shell of your ear as he asks, “Are you ready for me?”

You couldn’t be more ready if you tried. You moan, pushing your ass back against him. His chuckle is felt through every inch of you.

He moves one hand down, drags it down your body, slots it between your legs. Your hips give a little jerk as he mops up some of your wetness with his fingers.

“Oh, yeah, you’re ready for me.” There’s a smirk in his voice. His fingers land on your clit, and he nips your ear again. “Good girl.”

You open your mouth — to say something, or to beg, you’re not sure. But there’s no chance.

The head of Cassian’s cock is guided to your entrance. You gasp at the mere feeling of it bumping against you, teasing the opening.

And then he fucking thrusts all the way in, hard enough that you slam once again against the counter. Medical supplies go flying onto the floor.

And gods, it feels too good.

There’s a tiny bite of pain, yes, but it’s pleasurable — more a feeling of fullness. He’s pushed all the way in to the hilt, and the guttural noise that leaves him might just be enough to make you come. It’s animalistic, the way he groans, almost a snarl.

“Hard?” He repeats, withdrawing slightly.

You gasp, your head tipping back. “Hard.”

“Thank the Mother.”

You yelp as his hand suddenly smacks against your ass cheek, and then he’s spreading you open and thrusting in again.

He is not gentle.

He is not soft or tentative or even kind.

This is how Cassian — the much-feared Illyrian — fucks.

And you like it, want it, need it. You push back against him to remind him he doesn’t need to be gentle. Forget about the fact that you’ve always known each other, that you have a fondness for each other.

Fuck me, you communicate silently. Ruin me, and make me forget who I am.

He growls, as if those very thoughts reached him mind-to-mind. And fuck you, he does.

You’re slammed again and again against the counter, hard enough to bruise and leave marks. His balls slap against your skin as he damn near rams into you at an unstoppable force. He’s grunting and snarling and panting. His hands suddenly clasp both of your arms, and he pulls them behind your back, holding onto them and thrusting faster.

“Fucking knew,” he growls, “that your cunt would feel like this. That you’d squeeze my cock like this.”

He slows just slightly — just enough to roll his hips and make sure you feel every single inch of him stroking the inside of you. The shout that leaves you doesn’t even sound like you.

“You like that, sweetpea?” He chuckles darkly. He pushes in to the hilt again, and you moan — a mistake that comes with a penalty. His hips still. “Give me your words, sweetheart. I want to know how much you need my cock.”

“Cassian.” You grit your teeth. “Fuck me.”

He withdraws. Slams into you again. And then the rhythm picks up, the pace fast and raw and unbeatable. Gripping onto your arms gives Cass the perfect leverage to take you exactly as you want him to take you, as he wants to take you. He can’t possibly go any faster, reach any deeper.

Heat coils in your lower belly. You meet every one of his thrusts by bucking against him, and it spurs your body on. You can feel something brilliant building beneath your skin and firing through your veins.

And when he lets go of one of your arms and dips his hand between your legs, his fingers immediately finding your clit, you’re not at all sure that you won’t just explode.

As you feel the head of his cock hit deep inside you, unable to go any further, as the pads of his fingers circle your clit, the noise that leaves you is unlike any other noise you’ve ever made. You’re vaguely aware of a sudden surge of wetness between your legs that drips down your thighs. Cassian made you squirt.

He half-laughs-half-groans, and his teeth nip your ear. “Sweetpea,” he bites out, “who knew you were such a filthy girl? Is this what I’ve been missing out on?”

You can’t speak — words fail you. You’re utterly incapable of doing anything but making your breathy little noises, your fractured moans, as Cassian pounds into you. His ministrations at your clit don’t even falter, even as he lets out a noise that hints at his own release being close.

“Come for me again.” Your wetness still drenches his hand, you know, but it’s not enough — he wants more. His finger presses down hard on your clit, and at the exact same moment, he lands a harsh kiss on your neck that turns into a suck. He slams into you so hard that you have to grip the counter to stop yourself being winded for the second time that night. And you erupt.

You hear the exact moment the walls of your cunt clamp around Cassian’s length. The noise he makes is one that you need to commit to memory, keep for a cold, lonely night when it’s just you and your hand. You’ve never heard anything like it. You never imagined he could make a sound like it.

“Oh, gods, yes,” He damn near whines. His hand is suddenly at your back, and he pushes you down, bends you over until your cheek is pressed to the countertop. He fastens that hand at your shoulder, the other at your hip, and then he’s on the homestretch. “Oh, fuck!”

He thrusts, and he thrusts, and he thrusts — and then he goes still, his cock exploding inside you.

He grunts through every spurt, his fingers biting into your skin. You’re not sure you can move as your cunt continues to contract around him, draining him of every last drop. The counter and Cassian’s hands are the only things holding you up. If he steps away now, your legs may just buckle and drag you to the floor.

So in contrast to the wicked noises you were both just making, near-silence sweeps in, broken only by you both gasping for breath. You close your eyes, your brow furrowing. Press your forehead against the surface you’re currently slumped over. You can’t remember how to…how to exist outside of pleasure.

You are well and truly fucked out.

You’re almost content to just stay there, gripping onto the counter for dear life. But then Cassian finally slides out of you, pulling his seed with him. It drips down your legs, into your underwear. A shudder leaves you.

“Shit, that was—” Cass breathes a laugh. “Gods. Why have we never done that before?”

You manage your own weak, sated chuckle, and finally try to stand up straight. “Because friends aren’t supposed to fuck friends senseless.”

“No,” he agrees. Pauses. “But, like…it doesn’t have to make things awkward, does it? We’re both adults. Capable of sharing pleasure and…and carrying on as normal…”

Oh, bless his heart.

Non-committal Cass is now worried that a casual rearranging of your organs might turn into you falling in love.

“It’s not going to be awkward, Cass.” You snort softly. “I’m just not sure I can move.”

He stares at you. And you stare at him.

The laughter hits you both at the same time. It’s laughter of both relief and release. An acknowledgement that you both feel a darn sight better now than you did when you first walked in. The night isn’t weighing on you so heavily, now.

Is that bad? Perhaps.

But you can fuck people, too. Why…why should you regret it?

“Here.” Tucking himself back into his breeches, Cassian yanks his shirt off, handing it to you. “You can use this to clean yourself up. I’ll run you a bath.”

He turns, but you’re stopping him with a hand on his arm. “I don’t want special treatment just because we fucked. Just…be normal.”

One eyebrow quirks up. “I planned to run you a bath after I cleaned your cheek. We just got a bit…sidetracked. I’m looking after you, Y/N — as your friend.”

You study his face. He’s open, sincere — not pitying. Good.

“Okay.” You tug your hand away. “Thank you.”

He dips his chin, and then he’s strolling away again. He stops at the bottom of the stairs, turning back to look at you.

“I love you.” He says. “Just…don’t ever doubt that.”

You’re not sure you ever could. He’s one of the few constants in your life.

You nod, suddenly not sure you can make eye contact. “I know. I love you, too.”

He, too, nods. And then he disappears, and you’re listening to his boots thudding against each step of the stairs.

You wipe yourself down, tug your breeches up. Slump back against the counter. Drag a hand over your face.

You kind of just want to sleep, be unconscious, before the weighty thoughts begin to shove their way in again.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

The summons comes early the next morning, before the sun has even arisen.

One of Lord Devlon’s cronies comes to pluck you and Cassian from the cottage, lead you to the Camp Lord’s study. Azriel is already there when you arrive.

You meet his gaze as you sit down, trying to look for some clue as to what might have occurred in Fenlaros after you’d left. All he seems interested in is checking you over, surveying you for what injuries you have as a result of the night before.

You’re not all too sure if your stomach is tender because of the punch you received to your gut, or because of how thoroughly Cassian fucked you against the kitchen counter.

 Probably best not to linger on that thought for too long.

You’re sandwiched between your two friends, waiting for Lord Devlon to actually grace you with his presence. Where Rhysand is, you can only imagine — probably dealing with his father’s wrath.

You glance down at a slight, sudden pressure you feel at your leg. Azriel presses his thigh into yours, and you lift your gaze to meet his.

“You’re not too hurt?” He speaks quietly.

You shake your head. “You?”

“I’m fine. All good, Cass?”

With his typical, swaggering nonchalance that will most certainly land him in deeper shit, Cass grins and stretches his arms above his head. “Just peachy.”

“Az.” You coax the shadowsinger’s gaze back to yours. “What happened with Kaeda’s father?”

Perhaps you’re being a tad dramatic, but you’d lain awake pretty much all night, brooding on the fact that you’d fucked Cass whilst Az was being subjected to the gods knew what. Your thoughts had snowballed into preparing you for Az to return beaten black and blue — or not return at all.

But he looks…fine. A little roughed up from the brawl, but otherwise fine.

He opens his mouth, leaning closer, and that’s when the door flies open.

The three of you stand up immediately. Tuck your hands behind your backs. Bow your heads.

Lord Devlon saunters into the room, kicking the door shut behind him. His footsteps are loud and purposed as he strides to his chair.

“Sit.” He says coldly.

You take your seats once more. The Lord’s eyes skate over the three of you for a pensive few moments, before settling entirely on you. It makes you uncomfortable.

“So.” He sits back. “Who wants to take a stab at why I’m not very happy this morning?”

The three of you keep your mouths clamped shut.

“I’ll give you a clue. It’s not so much to do with a piss-poor night’s sleep, as it is to do with the fact that three of my fucking soldiers,” his lip curls as he looks you up and down, “and their little plaything,snuck off to a rival camp and picked a fight.”

“She’s not our—”

“Did I give you permission to speak, Azriel?”

The ticking in Az’s jaw is slight, but it’s there, as he stares forward. “No, my lord.”

“Then keep your fucking mouth shut until I do.”

Your friend bows his head once more.

“Can any one of you explain why, exactly, you not only travelled to a rival camp without my orders, but why you then decided to stoke tensions between our two camps? Because, you know, that’s their territory. They were well within their rights to defend themselves and not one of them is being punished for it.”

None of you are sure whether he actually wants an answer. It’s best to just…keep your mouth shut.

“None of you have anything to say?” Devlon’s eyebrows flick up. “Fine. How about I offer you my theory? Because I’m seeing a running theme, here.”

You can feel his hard, intense stare bounce from Azriel, to you, to Cassian. Back and forth and back and forth.

But it always returns to you.

It might be in that moment that you realise there’s another layer to this, that you stupidly hadn’t considered. One that’s really going to get Devlon and his cronies grinding their teeth.

You’re female.

And it’s bad enough for males, his soldiers, to behave like this. But you? A mere, docile female? Someone who should be focused on housekeeping and finding someone to breed with?

A female stepping outside of her place is more or less considered a crime by Illyrians. And you don’t have a Camp Lord father to get you out of that very deep shit.

“It’s Y/N, isn’t it?” Lord Devlon addresses you. He knows your name. He’s a cat playing with a mouse.

You meet his gaze and nod. “Yes, my lord.”

“The blacksmith’s daughter.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Hm. The thing is, Y/N, I am here to raise armies. To oversee the training of their soldiers. As Camp Lord, that is my duty.”

You grit your teeth, bite your tongue. You hate the condescending tone that is so fucking typical of Illyrian males. It’s patronising. Offensive. He’s stating blatant facts and explaining them to you as though you are a child.

But you simply dip your chin in acknowledgment, because playing your part is the only way the three of you are getting out of here with a slap on the wrist.

“I cannot afford for my soldiers to be distracted from their training, or be seduced into making trouble for themselves.” The way he looks you up and down, in that moment, makes you feel oily. “I need my soldiers to be prepared. If war came tomorrow, do you honestly think I could send these two out onto a battlefield?”

These two. He says it with such dismissal, such contempt, that you find yourself balling your fists at your sides. He’s always singled your friends out, tried to break them. He may have to tolerate Rhysand — his father being the High Lord and all — but the tiny slither of acceptance he has for Rhys does not hold up for Azriel or Cassian. He sees them as useless. As nobodies. He’s waiting for them to lose their lives in training or combat so he can be rid of them for good.

It boils your blood.

Before you can stop yourself, your lip curls. “I think they’re two of the best soldiers in Illyria, and you’re damn well lucky to have them.”

Devlon sneers back at you. “I’m sure you would say that. If only to keep them in your bed.”

Beside you, the arms of Cassian’s chair creak as he squeezes them hard. “My Lord—”

“If either one of you speaks without my permission again, I will string you up by your balls. Understood?”

There’s a pause. And then both Cass and Az are sitting back in their seats. Offering quiet, affirmative responses.

“So.” Devlon focuses on you once more. Anger mottles his cheeks a reddish hue. “Considering every time these two land themselves in shit, you are at the centre of it, I see only one appropriate course of action. I will not have you leading them astray. Be it pointless fighting or the absolute colossal fuck up of last night, you are always the common denominator. That stops today. This instant.”

You stare at him. You’re not entirely sure what he’s getting at, but something lurches in your stomach. You swallow down a lump in your throat and grip hard onto your chair.

“As soldiers under my command,” Devlon’s eyes flit between Cassian and Azriel, “I forbid you — and Rhysand — from having any more involvement with her. You will not spend time with her. You will not speak to her in passing. You won’t even look at her. If I find out you do, you’ll regret it.”

All three of you shoot up in your seats, alarmed looks passing your faces. “You can’t do this.” You’re the first to spit.

“Oh?” Devlon cocks an eyebrow. “This is Camp Windhaven, is it not?”

“Yes, but—”

“I am Lord of Camp Windhaven, am I not?”

“Obviously—”

“Then I absolutely have the authority to give such orders, and thus, consider them given. Starting today, your involvement with my soldiers ends.”

“My Lord,” Azriel’s tone is pinched, panicked, “you don’t understand — she’s living with us right now. Her father kicked her out of his home. She has nowhere else to go.”

“Do you think I give a shit about her domestic situation, Shadowsinger?” The Lord snaps at him. “I’m here to oversee the training of Windhaven’s soldiers. Not to get involved in pointless family drama.”

“But where am I supposed to go?” You can’t help it — you slam your fist against the arm of your chair. “What am I supposed to do?”

“That isn’t my problem.” Devlon shrugs. He stands up, planting his hands on the desk between you. He leans over with a glower. “But you better run home with your tail between your legs and begin mending relations with your father, because if I detect that there’s even a hint of involvement with you and my soldiers, I will make you regret it, girl. Do not cross me.”

He tucks — no, slams — his chair under the table. It’s a dismissal. You’re not allowed to respond.

You’re silent, too stunned to think, speak, breathe, as Devlon strides to the door and rips it open.

“Get the fuck out, all three of you.” He orders, and you stand numbly from your chair. “You two,” he directs his attention to your friends, “I want your asses in the training ring immediately. Go.”

They don’t want to, you can tell. They hesitate, but ultimately, there’s no other choice. They have no authority. They’re mere soldiers in training. This is their career, their life’s work, on the line. They can’t meet your gaze as they file out of the door, and you don’t blame them.

“And you?” Devlon stops you as you try to follow, gripping onto your shoulder hard. He may as well pick you up by the scruff of your neck like a boisterous pup. “You’d better heed my warning, Y/N the blacksmith’s daughter.”

He shoves you out of the room. You throw your hands out before you slam into the wall.

“Stay. The fuck. Away.”

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[pennyellee]

𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐕𝐈𝐈𝐈

LACRIMOSA | MYG MAFIA YANDERE AU

pairings: mafia leader!yoongi x f!reader genre: mafia!au, yandere au, historical au

summary: Their interlocking gaze served as a butterfly effect on his heart, stirring it to the core. She, in turn, only dreams to find a way to escape. But perchance, over time she might forcefully learn to love the man who has taken so much from her.

Thus unfolds a twisted tale of love and loss, of hope and despair, of life and death. The music reverberated through the dimly-lit streets. Tears of sorrow, weeping symphony - reflects the hurt, the scars that linger deep within and the wounds that never healed. Lacrimosa.

chapter warnings (preview only): minors dni 18+ | mafia au, dark!yoongi, mafia!yoongi, yandere, incision wound, blood, suicide attempt, strong language, mentions of God, ...

beta read by @chaoticpuff17

word count: 583

disclaimer: this story is purely fictional, it does not depict real-life events or involve any actual members of BTS. This story will contain depictions of violence, blood shed, death, mentions of abuse, smoking, alcohol drinking, illegal activities, old social norms and traditions, which we do not condone.

author's note: well, yall, life is getting in my way, it's certainly keeping me from finishing this chapter, but it shouldn't be that long before I actually do. I wanted to drop a little preview before the sacred day I was born, which is tomorrow, 1-2-3 birthday depression. Enjoy the preview and stay tuned for the chapter. I'll be also answering some asks tomorrow, yes, i see them, and i love you all so so so so much, I just have very little of free time lately. See ya soon! lots of love, p. 𖦹 ☼ ⋆｡˚⋆ฺ ♡🫧

m.list CHAPTER I CHAPTER II CHAPTER III CHAPTER IV CHAPTER V CHAPTER VI CHAPTER VII CHAPTER VIII

Time seemed to slow as Yoongi lunged forward, reaching out to stop her, but it was too late. The blade sliced through her skin, leaving a trail of crimson in its wake.

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat as pain seared through her, her vision swimming with darkness. She felt Yoongi’s hands on her, his panicked voice calling out to her, but it was distant as if coming from a faraway place.

“Seokjin?!!” he shouted, his voice raw with desperation.

He cradled her in his arms, his hands trembling as he pressed against the wound, trying desperately to stem the flow of blood.

The sound of loud footsteps echoed in the corridor as others rushed forward to reach the doctor, their expressions a mix of horror and disbelief. But amidst the chaos, Y/N’s empty gaze remained fixed on Yoongi, her eyes still burning with flames.

“Stay with me, baby. Don’t leave me please.” Yoongi whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. He pressed his lips to her forehead, willing her to hold on, to fight for her life.

But as he looked down at her pale, lifeless face, he knew that the road ahead would be long and fraught with challenges. For now, all he could do was pray that she would survive, that she would find the strength to forgive him and that they would someday find their way back to each other.

“Please don’t take her away from me, my Lord.”

Yoongi prayed that it was not too late to save her from the darkness that threatened to consume them both.

One thing remained clear in Yoongi’s mind: he would do whatever it took to save her, to make amends for the pain he had caused, and to prove to her that his love was worth fighting for.

Yoongi’s voice cut through the turmoil, his words a desperate plea for forgiveness. He begged for her to forgive him, to give him another chance to make things right. No more secrets, no more lies. No more pain. He was willing to rebuild their relationship from the ground up, on a foundation of honesty and trust.

The metallic scent of blood mingled with the tang of fear, thickening the air with a palpable sense of impending doom. He ripped one of his sleeves a while ago, pressing the roughly crimpled fabric to the wound, praying that Seokjin was near. Or did anyone hear him scream frantically enough to relay the message?

“You can’t leave me, baby, please. I promise we’ll work everything through.”

He kissed and caressed her hair with his free hand which was covered with her blood. Tears blurred his vision as his hand trembled at the sight. A blood he never wished to shed.

“Please, Y/N, you have to forgive me.” The weight of his actions pressed down on him like a leaden blanket, suffocating him with the weight of his mistakes.

“Fucking goddammit Yoongi!”

—

Y/N set the plates on the table, pouring the hot water into a kettle of green tea as he joined her at the table. They exchanged smiles, the morning sun casting a warm glow over the kitchen and the windows providing a magnificent view of the sea.

“I’ve been thinking,-” she said with a smile on her face while she set the seaweed salad down in front of him. He hummed in response, reading today’s paper.

“About opening my practice.” He nodded, sipping his tea thoughtfully.

“Thought you wanted to wait until the babe arrives?”

.

.

.

.

𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐧

©pennyellee. please do not repost

Don't be a silent reader, comment, re-blog, heart, asks are more than welcome ♥

keep in mind - I'm not expert on chinese, korean and japanese culture, but I tried to research everything realistic I wanted to add to the story. Nonetheless, take it as a fiction.

PS: accounts highlighted in pink cannot be tagged, so if you want to be in the tag list, please make sure you have it allowed in your settings. 𖦹 ☼ ⋆｡˚⋆ฺ ♡

tag list: @beautifulcloudfestival - @honsoolgloss - @jingerbreadoutofstock - @moscow778 - @januara26 - @dinosolecito - @yoongislatinagff - @xyahrinx - @hi12345567 - @nochuel - @deltamoon666 - @bbkissme99 - @darkuni63 - @nansasa - @sazsazsaz - @missmin - @strxwbloody - @royallyjjk - @jaiuneamesolitaiire - @shadowyjellyfishfest - @bbgniecyy - @elayne321 - @seojunandsoju - @bun-27 - @whipwhoops - @wobblewobble822 - @whofan88 - @haneyyyyyy - @lostgirlinthewoodss - @secfir - @btspurplesky - @elleflying07 - @pamzn - @megseungmin - @selenophileforlife - @idkjustlovingbts @seonghwaexile

#bts #bts fic #yandere yoongi #yandere bts #soft yandere #mafia au #yandere seokjin #yoongi x reader #bts fanfic #hard yandere #yandere #yandere kpop #mafia bts #lacrimosa #myg angst #dark!yoongi #min yoongi x y/n #bts x you #yoongi smut #haegeum #suga x you #suga x y/n #suga x reader #historical au #bts historical au #bts yandere au #fic:lacrimosa

[imaginesandbandfiction]

Triad Part 1 — How You Met Cas and Az

A Cazriel x Reader Headcanon

Series Masterlist

A/N: This is a headcanon on steroids, haha! Kind of a prequel in the same universe as this one. I’ve got a few more in the works but feel free to shoot me an ask if you have any requests!

You met Cassian and Azriel when you were sent from your tiny border village to Velaris, hand-picked by Madja as one of her healer’s apprentices.

Cassian first; even through teeth gritted against pain, he’d been a shameless flirt.

“Wow, you’re really good with your hands,” he said, flashing a cheeky grin over his shoulder as you wrapped it in a bandage to keep it stable while his muscles finished healing.

You patched him up a few more times before meeting Az, but eventually the Shadowsinger showed up with a gash in his back, bisecting his wings.

It was clearly not an injury from active combat, nor did it seem like torture. It was a threat. Using power for power’s sake.

You’d made eye contact, and your eyes drooped at the corners like you knew not to mention it, but your concern needed to express itself somehow. Like your empathy for others was woven into your skin.

When you finished your apprenticeship, Rhysand offered you a job in his court as a field healer. Later, you’d learn it was Azriel who’d recommended you.

In hindsight, you should have seen it sooner. When Rhys needed a job done right, no questions asked, he sent his dream team. The general, the spy, and the healer.

You spent 5 decades convinced the connection between the three of you was purely platonic.

It was Azriel who started suspecting the mating bond first. He felt his shadows tugging him towards you like they’d already sniffed you out. They never listened properly around you unless someone was in mortal danger; preferring to lap at your feet like gentle waves. Sometimes, one would escape from his grasp and snake its way up your body and you’d giggle—it was over for him the first time heard it. So he kept quiet, either biding his time until the bond snapped and proved him right or left him doomed to an eternity of pining.

You were worth the risk.

Cassian, on the other hand, went straight to Rhys when he started suspecting. Just barged right into the High Lord’s study like he owned the place and draped himself over the armchair in the corner.

“What’s wrong, brother?” Rhys asked, secretly grateful for a distraction; he’d been doing paperwork all morning

“I just got done training with Y/N,” Cassian grumbled.

“Congratulations, or I’m sorry that happened?”

“I dunno, it’s been weird lately. Like my siphons aren’t working properly, or something. I can feel my magic flowing through my body when I’m around her and… it’s so fucking stupid, Rhys, but…” Cas trailed off, too afraid to say the words in case they weren’t true.

“You’re wondering if it could be the mating bond?” Cas buried his head in his hands and nodded. Rhys laughed at him. “Well, just from looking at you I think that it probably is, but I can take a look and see if your magic looks any different.”

“Do it.” There was no hesitation. He had to know.

Rhys slipped into Cassian’s mind and it was pure chaos. The red threads of his magic were tangled up with shimmering gold and deep violet.

Rhys pulls out and Cassian’s head snaps up, wide eyes locking on Rhys’s. Cas’s face lit up sight of the High Lord’s shit-eating smirk.

“Really?” he asked, letting the words escape atop a soft exhale.

“Congratulations, brother,” Rhys confirmed.

Cassian attempted to keep it a secret; he didn’t want to force you into anything you’re not ready for or cloud your judgement. But, Mother, he wanted to scream it from the top of Ramiel and let all of Prythian know that you’re his.

So one night, when he and Az were in Windhaven to check on Devlon, he spilled his secret over pints of ale in front of the fire at Rhys’s mother’s cottage.

“Wanna know a seeeeecret?” He slurred, lifting one finger off his glass to point at Az, squinting at the shadowsinger from across the room.

“You’re keeping a secret?” Az asked, one eyebrow raising alongside the corners of his lips. His expectations were low; most of the time, Cassian’s “secrets” were only secret to the male himself — he was usually the last to know.

But when Cassian leans forward and whispers, “Y/N’s my mate,” it takes all of Azriel’s hard-earned self control to keep his magic to himself. The bond was angry, wanted to lash out, but he forced an amused smile onto his lips and mumbled his congratulations into another sip of ale.

After that, Az tried so hard to keep his shadows under control. After all, he had only started suspecting his own bond a few weeks ago, and it’s not like he laid any claim to you, or anything, but… His magic seemed to think otherwise, and the longer he kept it contained, the harder it got to control.

And then the bond snapped while the three of you were on a mission together in the mortal lands. It didn’t snap for you, though, so they try to act normal around each other but it’s SO HARD, like their magic is butting them against each other. (It is, because they’re stupid).

Rhysand picked up on it as soon as you returned, the tension between the two of them that hadn’t been there when you left. Both men came to him with their concerns, and even though he suspected that there weren’t two separate bonds but one single thread of gold tying the three of you together, he kept quiet. He sat back, watching as their glares and muttered insults turned to heated arguments.

You were baffled at the abrupt change in their dynamic. You suspected it had something to do with a female, but that was none of your business. They’d eventually work out their differences; they were brothers, after all.

A part of you, deep down, felt burning, white-hot rage every time you thought about her, this nameless, faceless female. You bury the burn in work; whenever you’re not in the field, you pick up extra shifts with Madja, healing until you’re too exhausted to do anything but grab a sandwich from the cafe near your apartment and fall into bed. It’s the only way sleep comes without a fight.

It takes a few weeks for the pressure building between them to boil over; your shift is almost over when the two Illyrians show up, bruised and bloody. They stand in the doorway to your office, shoulders hunched and eyes downcast. Something in you snaps at the sight of them, that white-hot anger bursts into raging golden flames.

“What the fuck has gotten into you two lately?” You yell, crossing the small room in two long strides to poke a finger into each of their chests, reveling in the twin winces on their faces.

Cassian opens his mouth to speak but you glare at him to shut him up. “Actually, no, I don’t want to hear it. Whatever it is, you gotta figure that shit out because this is ridiculous.” You pause to take a deep breath before continuing. “The two of you have been so fucking annoying lately, I told Rhys not to send me back out with either of you until you pull your heads out of your asses.”

Like they were two halves of the same whole, their faces fell in unison. Warmth bloomed from your navel inwards, filling you with magic like molten caramel. The last thing you saw before you passed out were the apologies lurking behind their eyes, and then everything went black.

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acotar imagine #acotar headcanon #acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic #cassian x azriel x reader #azriel x cassian x reader #cassian x you #cassian x reader #azriel x you #azriel x reader #cassian headcanons #azriel headcanons #cazriel x reader #cazriel

[arbiterlexultionis]

Danny and the Spooks Pt2

This is a continuation of my other post Here

More specifically, this is where I’m dumping my ideas for it that involve crossovers, mostly with DC, as I know that stuff isn’t some peoples cuppa tea, and wanted to make sure it could be viewed and enjoyed by all.

So, I’ve come up with two ways for Danny and the spooks to mix with other fandoms. 1) Danny’s a known entity and (somewhat) trusted ally who is super protective/secretive about the tiny ass town he micromanages and 2) Danny and the ghost issues of Amity are more less unknowns and the hero’s of the verse show up only to be met with a (somewhat) functional crime fighting organization.

I’ll do the first version in this post and the second probably in a different post.

Phantom was one of the founding members of the league, and one of the most mysterious members at that. Although most of them had known about each other and occasionally worked together long before they came together officially 3 years ago to fend of Darkseid and found the league Phatom himself had come out of left field so to speak. Appearing with no warning in his bulky Hazmat suit and barely saying a word for most of the crisis, they didn’t really have any choice but to accept his help regardless of their (Batman’s) skepticism, and that decision to trust him payed out in the end as Phantom, despite being a complete unknown that could stay under the radar at that point, was apparently strong enough to give Supes and Wonder Woman a run for their money. They threw around a lot of theories about the guy, Superman seemed convince he was some type of alien while others thought he was a meta. Batman’s theory of choice was that he was a time traveler form the future with advanced nano technology, using cave paintings and historical records from across the globe that duplicated him as evidence. Aquaman and Dr. Fate think he’s some type of lord of order or God, with a capital G, because there was apparently some strikingly similar being who fought a Chaos deity to try and stop Atlantis from sinking.

But every attempt to actually investigate has ended “inconclusively”, as after Batman finally tracked down which town Phantom watched over he only got a few steps in before he got gently grabbed buy the cape and flew several states away like a misbehaving kitten getting grabbed by the scruff. Flash got the farthest in of anyone, sprinting in and getting about a block in before just appearing in Canada with sticky note attached to his forehead reading “Please stop stalking my grandson. :-) -CW.”

So when they were all in a meeting discussing where to keep the young justice team they were all surprised, to say the least, when Phantom offered to take them in and look after them Inside of Amity. Apparently(supposedly) the main reason he keeps everyone so far away from his town is because no one in the league has the experience and skill set necessary to properly combat his rouges, and gaining the experience and skill would probably include several mind control/body snatching/cloning/imposters/potential world endangering events and that just wouldn’t be worth the risk, especially with all of that resulting in their own rouges getting into contact with his, a recipe for one shitty weekend as he put it. But a little less than a week ago Luther used an intermediary to hire one of phantoms rouges to hunt Superman, which explains the bandage on Superman’s side. So now that the cats out of the bag Phantom want to make the kitty purr and prepare the rest of the heroics community for “the complete and utter nonsensical shenanaganery that he’s stuck dealing with” and The Team seems like a good opportunity for it.

I envision this whole meeting probably being told from Flash’s point of view, as he’s smart and goofy enough for some good humor and exposition but I guess it works for anyone. The Young Justice team wind up in mount justice while the main base of the Spooks, called the Grave or something else suitably on brand, is prepared just long enough to get bored and go rescue Superboy. Then the whole team and some of the justice league step foot into Amity for the first time, and then get a whole PowerPoint presentation explaining the town and its BS and are just Shook when they find out that Phantoms not some meta or alien or time traveling genius inventor but just some dead dude.

The team essentially gets fast tracked through the training for Spooks to make sure there up to snuff and begin patrolling and stuff. At first Superboy just can’t handle working in the R.I.P.D. and then he finds a ghost who whole shtick is “I need to punch shit”, which bridges the gap between the fighting he knows and the negotiations he doesn’t and helps him learn more about diplomacy and chill out, can’t decided if I want the ghost in question to be a boxer, sumo wrestler or really over the top westler.

As practice living a double life and going under cover they all have to get jobs and be Normal, but they all suck at being Normal. It just straight up doesn’t cross Superboy mind that normal people can’t use motorcycles to beat up convenience store robbers. At first he goes for the car, stops and goes wait a second that’s not something normal people can do and I’m Normal, so he picks up a Harley like “Yep, this is completely average amount of strength.”

Wally’s working in the kitchen of a restaurant and keeps accidentally using his super speed. Not enough to glow or spark, but more than enough for people to freak out. But he’s doing the work of 4 people which means management need 3 less people to pay so they just let him do his thing.

Robins such a gremlin that people think he’s straight up a child ghost very poorly disguising himself as a human child, using rafters and vents as short cuts with the justification “it’s not weird if they don’t see me do it” which makes it seem like he’s using invisibility, intangibility and teleportation to get around. He’s so quite when he walks that people come to the conclusion that he’s forgetting to walk and just floating places and/or trying to look like he’s walking like a Perfectly Normal Human Child but not actually making contact with the ground on accident.

All the locals see all this stuff and just go “Kids are kids, ghost, human or ecto-contaminated to hell and back.” And all make a group effort to hide them from the Fentons and GIW. The team, which is actively trying to investigate both groups, becomes convinced that the people they work for are in cahoots with the GIW and hiding their activities, but every time they switch jobs it takes like, a week for the GIW to get to them again(for them to go “oh poor children” and try and keep them safe).

It doesn’t help that the first friend they made in town is a scrawny little black haired blue eyed twink that they saw beat a mothafucka with another mothafucka in an alleyway on the first day of class, constantly pulls off what should be nearly impossible acts and disappears without a trace, further twisting their idea of what is within normal human limits. (They saw Danny fighting Skulker in human form at 3am in the Nasty burger parking lot because he was to lazy to shift forms, and they use the fact that the kid that can nonchalantly throw hands with a nine foot tall T9000 knock off as an excuse to get away with stuff. “Mr. I-fight-death-bots-with-my-bare-hands is the weakling at the bottom of the food chain, so me being able to do this it Normal. Probably.”)

Just a few ideas I had for this, will probably post more later. Drink some water and chill, peace out.

#danny fenton #danny phantom #danny phantom au #dp au #fic prompt #story prompt #writing prompt #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #dc x dp #dpxdc #dp crossover #full hazmat au

[leavemebetosleep]

do you have any good fluttercord fic recs?

OH BOY DO I. In no particular order (except of when I thought of them):

1: Non-Entity by Captain Wuzz: An AU in which, instead of being turned to stone, Discord was shot in the head with a magic arrow that takes away his sentience and magic for a 1,000 years. Fluttershy mistakes him for a wounded animal and brings him home. I loved it so much.

2: Chaotic Neutral by C-Puff: The magic is starting to fade from Equestria, and the Main 6 and Discord go on an adventure to find out why, and reverse it. A bit of AU, in the sense it was written before the show was done, so it diverts in some places because of that. Super sweet, and I love the character development here.

3: Time is Taller than Space is Wide by Dott. Can also be read on Ao3 if you prefer. Soulmate AU (?) fic with a Groundhog Day style twist. I rarely see fics play with the idea of what if Fluttershy and Discord's friendship had started when they first met, so this is fun.

4 & 5: Blank and it's sequel Reconnection by @geekcat. Can also be read on fanfic.net. AU in which, before Discord can choose friendship over ruling Equestria, Twilight remembers a "reformation" spell. He is stripped of his free will, and Fluttershy does her best to bring him back. If you don't like the idea of Twilight being a villain, you might not like this one, but I think her villain arc in this is done in a perfect way for her character. It's super heart wrenching in many places, but in a good way.

6: Our Fair Lady of the Chaos Lord, also by GeekCat Can also be read on fanfic.net. Fairy tale inspired AU in which Fluttershy is a princess who's father is pressuring her to marry noble knight Sir Big Mac. Wanting to be sure he's a good person, she makes a deal with the Chaos Lord, letting herself be "kidnapped" so she can test his character. You can guess who she falls for instead. Honestly I've enjoyed all of GeekCat's fics, so they're getting an extra mention. Check out the rest of their fluttercord fics if you like any of these.

7: The Draconequus with the Dragon Tattoo by A M Shark This is a major case of, strange premise, kick ass results. Basically an AU based off Girl with the Dragon Tattoo by Steig Larsson, with Discord as Lisbeth, and Fluttershy as an amalgamation of Mikael and several other characters, but focusing more on the murder mystery aspect of that book, and less on the...everything else. If you're familiar with GwtDT, don't worry, there's no rape scenes. Again, it's more about the murder mystery part. If you're not familiar with GwtDT, then don't worry again, because you don't need to know the original to enjoy it. It's just Discord and Fluttershy playing detective and solving a murder together. It has two sequels, but I haven't read them yet, and it didn't feel right to rec something I haven't read.

8: The Corpse Bride by Bad Horse. Dark fic. No relation to the Burton movie. Fluttershy dies in a tragic accident, and Discord brings her back from the dead as his zombie wife. Her friends (sans Pinkie) are horrified. Has a fantastic twist ending. If you like some of the darker stuff, def worth a read.

Bonus: Comic rec: The Last Adventure by Eveeka. Taking place after the final defeat of Tirek, Cozy, and Chrysalis, Discord gets into a depressive funk after shouldering the hatred from Ponyville citizens for his latest actions, but also because his friends seem to never be available anymore. He starts to think maybe Equestria would be better off without him, as he can't seem to exist with out making everyone miserable, and decides to hide away in the Everfree forest. Fluttershy, worried when he doesn't show up for tea, asks her friends for help, only to discover there's a monster running lose there he and the rest of Equestria might be in danger from. This fic has two endings, so keep reading even when it seems like it's over. You've got one more ending left. This one nearly made me cry.

#fluttercord #fanfic recs

[thecreaturecodex]

Demon Lord, Orcus

Image © TSR Inc, by Todd Lockwood.

[Sponsored by @tar-baphon. Orcus is one of the iconic D&D villains, and through the SRD and plausible deniability (he's a Roman god!), he's in Pathfinder as well. In Pathfinder, he is deliberately not a power player, and my flavor text takes that already metatextual decision and runs hog wild with it.

A note on the art: I feel like Orcus is emblematic of when D&D was seen as dangerous, and this piece absolutely feels like it should be the cover of a Black Sabbath album. It's no surprise that I was fascinated with the anti-D&D strain of the Satanic Panic when I was a kid. Also, although there has been some course correction in the 5e era, there's a trend with Orcus in a lot of art, including his official Pathfinder depiction, of making Orcus buff. Let Orcus be fat!]

Demon Lord, Orcus CR 28 CE Outsider (extraplanar) This humanoid is a corpulent giant with skin mottled like a decaying corpse. He has great black bat-wings growing from his shoulders, hooves for feet, and the head of a goat. He clutches a short staff, tipped with an oversized human skull.

Orcus, Prince of Undeath CE male demon lord of death, necromancy and wrath Domains  Chaos, Death, Evil, Magic Subdomains Demon, Divine, Murder, Undead Favored Weapon heavy mace Unholy Symbol a goat’s head with curving horns Worshipers liches, necromancers, sapient undead Minions boneclaws, deathdrinkers, demons, other undead For information on his Obedience and boons for his worshipers, see Book of the Damned

Orcus is one of the most powerful demon lords in the Universe. But not on Golarion. On that world, his is one of a number of undead cults, and not nearly the most popular. Orcus has a clear hierarchy to what undead he considers truly worthy, with those created from contagion seen as inferior to accident, and those inferior to those who intentionally seek out undeath. His most dedicated worshippers on Golarion are liches, some of whom have learned the secret of crafting a phylactery by teasing apart the Prince of Undeath’s wisdom from his threats. The followers of many other undead-focused religions, particularly vampires and ghouls, see Orcus as pretentious and unworthy of dedication, although few are foolish enough to directly oppose him.

Orcus himself knows that his star has fallen. In his extensive research into planar lore, Orcus has learned that he was once the most feared being in another universe, who went on a killing spree that left several gods dead and an entire race of lawful outsiders duped into being his pawns. That Orcus cannot accomplish this level of power in this version of reality vexes and frustrates him, and he takes his rage out on his minions as much as he does his foes.

Orcus is a genius tactician, although his temper sometimes gets the better of him. He enjoys combat as a distraction from his cosmic-level sulk, and as a way of expressing his power over others. He typically opens combat with a time stop to summon allies and cast defensive spells on himself, and then unleashes a potent death effect as soon as the duration expires. Against creatures that can resist his negative energy and poison, he uses dispelling magic. On more than one occasion, Orcus has beaten a cocky archmage to a pulp by centering an antimagic field on himself and wading into combat.

Orcus in the Great Game Orcus’ response to the brewing theomachy between Mormo and Lamashtu is cautious optimism. He desires more power in the Abyss, and Lamashtu could open the door for him to seize it. Kabriri and Zura are at the top of Orcus’ hit list, but views a direct assault on them as currently too risky to be worth the effort. If one of them were to make a move against Lamashtu and be punished for it, or if they were struck down in the scramble for power following Lamashtu’s (theoretical) demotion or demise, Orcus would happily swoop in to finish them off.  And if Mormo is capable of legitimately slaying a god, Orcus will be very keen to study her techniques.

Wand of Orcus (major artifact) The Wand of Orcus is the Prince of Undeath’s scepter of office, and it never leaves his side. Lesser versions have appeared in the Material Plane, often created by Orcus or one of his high-level clerics. The real Wand of Orcus is a Huge +5 anarchic, unholy heavy mace. In the hands of a demon, it grants a +4 profane bonus to Armor Class. The first time the Wand of Orcus strikes a living creature in a round, that creature is subject to a slay living spell (DC 30). Weight 24 lbs.; CL 25th

Demon Lord, Orcus        CR 28 XP 4,915,200 CE Huge outsider (chaos, demon, evil, extraplanar) Init +11; Senses arcane sight, darkvision 120 ft., detect good, detect law, Perception +48, true seeing Aura frightful presence (120 ft., DC 36), undead obedience (120 ft., Will DC 36), unholy (DC 28)

Defense AC 47, touch 23, flat-footed 40(-2 size, +7 Dex, +4 deflection, +4 profane, +24 natural) hp 709(33d10+528); regeneration 30 (deific or mythic) Fort +31, Ref +29, Will +34 DR 20/cold iron, epic and good; Immune ability damage, ability drain, charm, compulsion, death effects, electricity, energy drain, petrification and poison; Resist acid 30, cold 30, fire 30; SR 39 Defensive Abilities Abyssal resurrection, freedom of movement, negative energy affinity

Offense Speed 40 ft., fly 60 ft. (average) Melee Wand of Orcus +51/+46/+41/+36 (3d6+20 plus 2d6 chaos and 2d6 evil/19-20), claw +44 (1d8+7), sting (2d4+7 plus poison), gore (2d6+7) or 2 claws +46 (1d8+15), sting +46 (2d4+15 plus poison), gore +46 (2d6+15) Space 15 ft.; Reach 15 ft. Special Attacks epic spellcasting, powerful charge (gore, 4d6+22) Spell-like Abilities CL 28th, concentration +38 (+42 casting defensively) Constant—arcane sight, detect good, detect law, freedom of movement, true seeing, unholy aura (DC 28, self only) At will—animate dead*, astral projection, blasphemy* (DC 27), circle of death* (DC 28), create undead, enervation*, greater dispel magic, greater teleport, plane shift* (DC 25), telekinesis* (DC 25), unholy blight* (DC 24) 3/day—control undead (DC 29), create greater undead, energy drain (DC 31), finger of death* (DC 29), quickened greater dispel magic, quickened harm*, summon demons or undead, symbol of death (DC 30) 1/day—power word kill*, time stop*, true resurrection, wail of the banshee (DC 31) * Orcus can use the mythic version of this spell-like ability in his domain Spells Prepared CL 20th, concentration +32 (+36 casting defensively) 9th—energy drain (DC 33), etherealness, mage’s disjunction* (D, DC 31), overwhelming presence (DC 31), soul bind (DC 33), wail of the banshee (DC 33) 8th —cloak of chaos (DC 30), fire storm* (DC 30), greater spell immunity, horrid wilting (DC 32), orb of the void* (DC 32), protection from spells (D), unholy aura (DC 30) 7th —control weather, destruction (DC 31), greater scrying (DC 29, x2), repulsion, spell turning (D), waves of exhaustion 6th —antilife shell, antimagic field (D), banshee blast (DC 30), blade barrier* (DC 28), geas/quest, harm* (DC 30), mass bull’s strength 5th —dispel good (DC 27), flame strike (DC 27), greater command (DC 27), mass ghostbane dirge (DC 27), righteous might, suffocation (D, DC 29), vampiric shadow shield 4th —contagion (DC 28), death ward (D), divine power (x2), rest eternal, sending (x2)*, tongues 3rd —bestow curse (x2, DC 27), prayer*, protection from energy, rage (D, DC 25), ray of exhaustion, vampiric touch*, water breathing 2nd —bear’s endurance (x2), death knell (D, DC 26), desecrate, owl’s wisdom (x2), resist energy, spiritual weapon* 1st —bane (DC 25), divine favor (x2), entropic shield, identify (D), ray of enfeeblement* (DC 25), sanctuary (DC 23), shield of faith* 0th—bleed (DC 24), detect magic, light, read magic *—Orcus may use the mythic version of this spell in his Abyssal domain

Statistics Str 40, Dex 25, Con 42, Int 30, Wis 35, Cha 31 Base Atk +33; CMB +50; CMD 71 Feats Combat Casting, Combat Reflexes, Craft Magic Arms and Armor, Craft Rod, Craft Wondrous Item, Flyby Attack, Greater Spell Focus (necromancy), Greater Spell Penetration, Improved Critical (heavy mace), Improved Initiative, Hover, Multiattack, Mythic Spell Lore (B), Power Attack, Quicken SLA (greater dispel magic, harm), Spell Focus (necromancy), Spell Penetration Skills Bluff +46, Craft (alchemy, weaponsmithing) +46, Fly +36, Intimidate +43, Knowledge (arcana, planes, religion) +46, Knowledge (dungeoneering, history) +43, Perception +48, Sense Motive +48, Spellcraft +46, Stealth +35, Survival +45, Use Magic Device +46 Languages Abyssal, Common, Draconic, Infernal, Necril, telepathy 300 ft. SQ demon lord traits, master of death

Ecology Environment any land or underground (Abyss) Organization unique Treasure triple standard (Wand of Orcus, other treasure)

Special Abilities Aura of Undead Obedience (Su) Any undead creature within 120 feet that attempts to make a hostile action against Orcus must succeed a DC 36 Will save or be unable to take that action, wasting it. The save DC is Charisma based. Epic Spellcasting (Ex) Orcus gains Mythic Spell Lore as a bonus feat. Once per day, he can use one of his spell-like abilities or spells as if it was a mythic spell without spending a use of mythic power. This allows him to use a mythic spell or spell-like ability outside of his Abyssal domain, but he cannot augment that spell or spell-like ability by spending additional uses of mythic power. Master of Death (Ex) Orcus applies his Spell Focus and Greater Spell Focus (necromancy) feats to his spell-like abilities. Death effects created by Orcus, including the Wand of Orcus in his hands, ignore immunity to death effects except for those granted by creature type, or from deific or mythic sources. Poison (Ex) Sting—injury; save Fort DC 42; duration 1/round for 4 rounds; damage 1d6 Str and 1d6 Con; cure 2 consecutive saves. A creature reduced to 0 Str by Orcus’ poison cannot breathe and begins to suffocate. The save DC is Constitution based. Spells Orcus can cast spells as a 20th level cleric, and can prepare necromancy spells from the sorcerer/wizard list as if they were cleric spells. He gets access to domain slots, and can fill them with spells from any of his domains or subdomains. He can also spontaneously cast inflict spells as an evil cleric can. Summon Demons and Undead (Sp) When Orcus summons demons, he can also summon undead creatures.

#orcus #demon #demon lord #pathfinder rpg #pathfinder 1e #D&D #satanic panic #todd lockwood #undead #outsider #necromancer #sponsored post #demigod

[ethical-cain-vinnel]

NO NUT NOVEMBER WITH RORY CHARACTERS

Pairing(s): Gabriel (2014) x GN! reader, Euronymous x GN! reader, and Jack Thurlow x GN! reader

Tags/Warnings: Pure smut, penetrated reader but no mentions of which hole (so it works for anyone), sub reader for euro and jack but soft dom reader for gabe, slight varg vikernes slander cause as fine as emory is i hate the actual varg, kinda boring sorry :(

Notes: This is a collab with @icarus-star who is absolutely amazing! He’s writing for Danny Cooper, Chris Kenton, and Possum and you can find his fic here! Also, for the Euronymous part I am STRICTLY going off of Rory’s portrayal in the movie Lords of Chaos. I hope they’re not too ooc i really tried to make them accurate

GABRIEL

Okay so I have always felt that Gabe is on the asexual spectrum, specifically demisexual and/or aceflux

In other words, I think that he has little to no sexual attraction to someone he hasn’t formed a bond with. For the aceflux part, I think that he has some periods of times where he feels no sexual attraction at all and has a very low sex drive and other times where he has to go at it at least 3 times a day (and obviously times where he’s in between the two)

So, some years are easier than others and sometimes he can go for months without having to jerk off or have sex but I’m going to be talking about a month where he has a pretty high sex drive

I feel like he doesn’t often participate, but one year, you wanted to try it with him and he agreed

It is TORTURE FOR HIM

Poor boy is so pent up because in the last few weeks of October, his sex drive started to get higher again :(

Within the first few days, he’s so whiney and pent up and all he wants to do is hold your hand and kiss you as you two make love

I think for this year’s no nut november, he lasts a week MAYBE two before hes whining and telling you that you won

He’s so teary when he finally gets inside you and he cums almost as soon as you start moving

He needs you to take control because he gets fucked dumb so quickly

Overall, he doesn’t last long but the sex afterward makes it worth it

EURONYMOUS/ØYSTEIN AARSETH

He usually doesn’t care about no nut november, but stupid varg brought it up to the rest of the inner circle so now they’re all doing it.

On Halloween, he fucks you until you’re both overstimulated and passed out to hopefully make this easier for you both

He goes into it pretty cocky, thinking he’ll win the prize that the inner circle decided on

And he does pretty well

Until midway into week 2

Euro has a VERY high sex drive. Like at least 5-6 times a week but thats on a bad week

He could barely sleep in the same bed as you, your scent instantly making him pop a boner

He NEEDED to feel you again and by tuesday of the 3rd week, hes shoving you on the bed and tearing your clothes off

He fucks you so hard that you can’t walk for a few days and he has to either carry you everywhere or bring it to you

He’s pounding into you and saying the nastiest shit

He’s so mean about it but the aftercare is way better than normal

JACK THURLOW

I know that his fans (me included tbh) loves to make him out as a sex fiend but honestly, I think he has a pretty average sex drive

Out of the three characters I picked, he’s the one making it to the end

He’s only doing this cause he’s curious to see if it does anything (cough cough make him more emotional so he can write kick ass poems cough cough)

He lets you cock warm him on the last night of november

“Quit moving. Only an hour left. Be good”

Once it’s December first, you know you’ll need to call out for work in the morning.

He fucks you at his desk before taking you to the bed

He fucks you until he’s shooting blanks, and even then, he keeps going for 1-2 more rounds

The last week was really hard on him but he didn’t realize until he was back inside you

I genuinely think that he became more insufferable and aggravated without realizing it at the 2 ½ week mark

He takes care of you reaaallll well for the next couple days hehe

#rory culkin x reader #rory culkin #rory culkin x reader smut #jack thurlow #jack thurlow x reader #jack thurlow x reader smut #gabriel x reader #gabriel #gabriel (2014) #gabriel (2014) x reader #no nut november #euronymous x reader #euronymous x reader smut #euronymous #øystein aarseth #oystein aarseth #øystein aarseth x reader #lords of chaos #lords of chaos smut

[acoraxia]

Do you think about the way that Sun Wukong in the show views Qi Xiaotian as the most wonderful thing in the world?

Do you think about the stages of self-love that must go through his head as he watches Qi Xiaotian, a fogged up mirror of himself, cry ever so freely and get pulled into a group of people who and adore him and how he watches him grow brilliantly like a star slowly staging itself into a sun?

Do you think Sun Wukong, Victorious Fighting Buddha, a pillar of heroism and hope and inspiration, sees this young version of himself in Xiaotian and thinks, I adore you, I love you, I think you are the most wonderful thing, and I will never let you become what I am, ever, and thus lets him have stability and joy and hope and never brings him down because he could never have that for himself when he was younger? Because he was forced to find enlightenment as a punishment for an action of chaos he did not pursue out of selfish desire to become the number one being in the world to rule over everything—but as a way to appease a man and warrior and general who thought he was perfect and ran him down until he was nothing more than an angry caged demon under a mountain?

Do you think about how everyone abandons Wukong and Wukong abandons Xiaotian through and through but never with selfish desire? Never does he leave with the idea of, Lords, I need to get away from him, he’s too much, I can’t handle him, but with the thought of a worried love that plagues him even as he smashes through his very core memories of punishment and isolation? How he would break Heaven and Earth for this young adult who looks at him as if he is the greatest person in the world? How he adores Qi Xiaotian, this foolish, hyperactive, eager and beloved version of himself—how he adores this kid because he sees a way for him to diverge from the same paths he took when he was younger and how he never once feared him for who he was?

Do you think about how Sun Wukong—someone who Only values people by how much they’re worth—smiles at Qi Xiaotian and asks if he’s alright and covers him with his whole body and holds back all of his power… because he adores his apprentice and he would never do anything to hurt him?

Do you think Sun Wukong knew he was capable of feeling such love?

#lego monkie kid #woof loupen #qi xiaotian #sun wukong #peacherines #HECCKINGNCKDNDKD #OUGHHHHXJDJDK #I AM JUST SITTING HERE MAN #ITS 12:55AM GM HI IM RHY AND IM THINKING SM ABOUT THIS

[moonpetrichors-blog]

Dating Lo’ak Includes...

Tags: Lo’ak x Reader, Heacanons, Fluff, Dating, Avatar 2, Gn!Reader, More Slight Angst LMAO

Warnings: None

What dating Lo’ak would include.

Look I was crushing on Lo’ak for like the entire movie, of course if Neteyam is getting relationship headcanons so will my boy Lo’ak ‼

* ˚ ✦ Read below the cut

╭┈─────── ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-╰┈➤ ❝ [25/12/22] ❞  

Lord he is so cute.

Like Neteyam, he has a very sweet and caring personality, and shows his affection for you through quality time and physical touch.

Just like his dad, he’s got such a cocky and sarcastic mouth on him LMAO

That shit makes you SWOON

Before you even started dating Lo’ak, he was so stubborn about not confessing and simply expected to keep it to himself.

He’s very clumsy with himself though, and sucks at keeping his feelings hidden

It was only a matter of time before you realized what was going on 💀

You honestly find it endearing how nervous and ungraceful he is around you

It’s very easy to probe reactions out of him, so half your conversations are either playful banter or teasing

He’s pretty reckless so sometimes when you go on dates it’s not the most safe or well thought out plan...💀

The majority of decisions in your relationship is honestly based off of impulsive choices. Dude can’t be methodical for his LIFE

He’s disobedient and will literally do the opposite of what you tell him to do just so you guys can play fight LMFAO

Now, we all know how Lo’ak feels like the odd one out in his family.

He makes bad choices, gets into trouble, and overall feels like he’s second best to his older brother.

So of course, his recalcitrant attitude is a way he builds walls around himself.

But honestly? This attitude we know and love is probably a façade.

Deep down, all he wants to do is prove his worth and be helpful, but all it does it backfire on him.

He’s been hurt time and time again, seeing himself as an outcast and a failure.

As his significant other, you make him feel appreciated and valued, because you see him for who he really is and love him as he is.

For once, Lo’ak doesn’t feel like an outsider. He feels like he doesn’t have to prove himself with you.

Despite this, Lo’ak is still an independent lover and enjoys his alone time.

He has a difficult time relying on other people, and the fact that he’s let you in this much means a lot.

I can see him playing both sides of the relationship. Some days he’ll take the initiative, and other times he just wants to be held by you.

Dude THRIVES in chaos. If you’re disobedient too? Y’all are reckless idiots together.

Is also an overprotective lover. Absolutely will not hesitate to beat the shit out of someone who tries to talk badly upon your name.

It doesn’t matter if you’re being directly harassed or trash talked behind your back, trust that Lo’ak will be ready to punt some bitches into next week.

Imagine patching him up after punch fights omg??? I just KNOW he loves it when you run your hands over his knuckles and kiss them better.

Please comfort my boy on his appearance :((

He’s got a sarcastic and unwavering personality, yes, but don’t doubt the fact that he can get insecure about how he looks sometimes.

Part of the reason why he loves when you kiss his knuckles is because you remind him every part of him is loveable; even the human bits.

You make the darkest parts of himself feel seen; and he will always be thankful he has someone like you that embraces all of him.

#↳˳☁️;; ❝ headcanons ᵕ̈ ೫˚∗: #avatar #avatar 2 #avatar headcanons #avatar 2 headcanons #headcanons #lo'ak #lo'ak sully #lo'ak imagine #lo'ak x reader #lo'ak fanfiction #gender neutral reader #lo'ak x you #i love my men emo #fluff #slight angst #again #i love lo'ak

[kit-williams]

Chaos Tulio: Superbeast

This is a Loyalty swap for Tulio. Not based off of any fan heresies a lot more work goes into those and I'm not willing to build from the ground up an alternate Horus Heresy. However all of the boys (Except Tyberos and other actual 40k characters) will be getting a Loyalty swap. There will also be a "Falling to Chaos" version for the Loyalists and (tentatively) a "Rising to Redemption" for the Traitors.

Also Psychi in this story has descriptions due to the more... graphic nature of this one to lessen any ick someone might feel about a reader insert

Word count: 3542

Tag List @bispecsual @egrets-not-regrets @moodymisty @bleedingichorhearts

@liar-anubiass-blog @thevoidscreams @barn-anon @sculptorofcrimson

Thank you to @squishyowl for the dividers

tw: sex ahoy, dubious consent, will also tag as noncon as well, yandere, Tulio is his own warning

Readers Discretion is Advised

The traitor realm of Ultramar was the largest holding of traitors outside of the eye of terror. Controlled by the fallen Primarch Robute Guilliman; it fell overnight following the charismatic leader that was the primarch of the 13th legion. The realm was a beautiful hell... a hell where they knew exactly how much worth you had in you the moment you were brought into their clutches. For a thing of Chaos... even the Chaos was calculated and planned for... for the Primarch hated surprises.

Tyranids were a surprise that the Lord of Ultramar despised and thus he dedicated several thousand of his sons to dealing with it and the profane rituals to insure that they could protect the realm of Ultramar. Profane rituals blessed these sons of Ultramar as to defeat their seemingly endless xenos foe... they chose to become like their foes. To become the beasts.

Lieutenant Tulio Sydo had secured a large victory for his Primarch, at the cost of thousands of his men, a few warp drives, and his fellow Lieutenant... the Hive Fleet barreling towards Macragge was no more... the splinters of the hive fleet would be hunted down but for now he was told to recuperate... to relax... to partake in revelry... as his worship of the four was far too lopsided according to the chaplain... the youngest deserved his worship.

The room smelt of sweat and sex as concubines bodies moved against mutated flesh. The four armed and eight eyed Lieutenant was watching the depravity... they couldn't be too rough given theses were the modified concubines... surely someone's seed would take. His lounged as his digigrade legs were spread open, his cheek rested on one of his hands, another held a goblet of wine, a third resting near a weapon, and his fourth hand laced through the blonde hair of his once favorite concubine as she took his cock in her mouth. He was fused to his armor in certain locations... his thighs, the tops of his hands and arms, and from the nose up was now twisted with a large singular horn coming from his forehead.

He could smell her... his black tongue lazily swiped over his needle like teeth. His eyes closer to the back of his head could watch her... his Psychoula. Comparing her to the concubines they looked far prettier... healthier... with a glow to their skin. His eyes darted to the symbol of the Prince on his former favorite's tongue just working her best to please him. Psychi feared him... he could see it in the way tears gathered in the corners of her eyes... those plain brown things. How thin her dirty brown hair was but oh what a rich chocolate brown it could be when cleaned. He had the pleasure of seeing her look good once... once again when his favorite was failing to make him feel alive.

Slaanesh wasn't his favorite of the four... Khorne was his main patron and it was hard to drag him back to the center of worship that being so high up in his father's good graces required. So Tulio had to... excessively indulge in Slaanesh to balance out his souls humors. Yet this... neglected looking thing drove him to feel such licentiousness desires. His eyes, the ones that could see her, focused on her as he churned his hips. Hand gripping the hair tighter as he closed those still green eyes of his just picturing those sad looking brown ones looking up at him.

He grew to dislike his erstwhile concubine when she had caught sight of her, of course ignorant of his interest in the feeble little thing, and simply upturned her nose to the poor little thing. But, her mouth was a good replacement until he could get those pale lips to wrap around his own cock one day soon. Oh yes orgy first then rewards for his men as they had all chosen their desired pitiful creature to have as theirs and theirs alone and he could tell they all were watching, or trying to not watch, nervously. He sees her tense as he catches her eyes dart over and notice how he looks at her and what is going on between his legs. Tulio can't help but grin as he lets out a groan letting the whore between his legs drink it up.

"Brother Cyrus." Tulio started as he was being cleaned off. His second also appeared to be boredly watching the festivities but really Tulio knew his eyes were focused on some one armed black haired waif. Such a tiny looking frail thing... Tulio might have been tempted to lust over such a cute looking thing but his Psychi caught his eyes first.

"Yes Lieutenant?" He replied with a bored sigh.

"You want a go at this?" He gestures to the concubine in his lap who looks at him confused. Cyrus looked over clearly uninterested before Tulio purred out, "Might make sure you don't... break your little waif... if you get some of that eager passion out. Whole point of this orgy really... don't need any of my closest men sobbing about breaking their new toy."

They ignored the concubine trying to get an answer to beg for her master's affection and Tulio could have ignored her but he looked down at her boredly, "You were always on loan to me my dear. I just tend to get possessive of my things." He says grabbing her chin and pushing her lips together, "However, I'm about to get a tight new toy..." He says before brother Cyrus grabs her and drags her into a side room.

The wine ran down his throat so smoothly cleaning away the acidic feeling from gorging himself earlier. He looked at the empty goblet holding it to the side and just gently rolling his hand as he watched his timid little Psychoula come over to fill the glass. Her cheeks flushed from the debased acts and the pleasured moans... perhaps glances from the women to entice them to join in and enjoy.

"What do think about this my dear?" He trilled to her watching confusion crawl across her pretty face slowly like a body divided below the waist... refusing to die and dragging it out like intestines across the ground.

He watched her mouth open slightly a few time as her eyes darted around trying hard to look away but knowing that she had to maintain eye contact with him. "I... I... its... it's not exactly... my first choice?" She tried her best not to stutter and if it was anyone else he would be offended at the lack of respect given to him. Tulio knows he'll teach her better manners she's just not use to his divinely gifted aura yet. Few mortals could manage to not be intimidated or struck with fear the first few times meeting him.

"Oh?" He cooed to her moving to him now lounging on his side giving her his attention. The saliva clinging to his cock has dried off and he was eager to replace it with something else. One of his hands began a languid stroke, "What brings you such hesitations Psychoula?" Tulio did his best not to have a predatory grin as he could see the other rewards looking at her with pity and fear as they tried to ignore the mewling and moaning throng in the center of the room.

His eyes dilated for a moment watching her pink little tongue wet her dried and chapped lips. His eyes wandered down to the front of her stolla where the fabric revealed the tattooed symbol of the Ultramarine's on her collarbone like all slaves. "It... it looks rather violent." She just says uncomfortably, he could tell she wanted to beg to be dismissed but she was trapped.

"Oh it is. But," He pauses taking a drink, "they are modified to handle such carnal appetites. Only the prettiest things can become like them..." Tulio leans in watching her start to shake but like a good girl she doesn't move, "I think you're pretty enough to become one." He whispers into her ear pulling back to watch her stiffen with fear. Those tears gathering in the corners of her eyes as she whimpers just biting on her bottom lip resisting the urge to beg for mercy.

Tulio stops playing with himself and sets his goblet down as his clawed hands grab her feeling the barest of resistance as he pulls her into his lap. This lower set of arms pulls on the low quality fabric apart causing her to start crying as everything below her waist was now revealed... he could feel how boney she was. One upper hand retrieved his gobelt... the other upper hand worked on throwing the last bits of her ruined stolla away... one lower arm was groping her ass, his cock twitching with excitement, as his other worked her breasts.

"You're so small zoi mou." He stated as her breasts were small from lack of food... lack of nutrition... oh they wouldn't do. Two of his hands rushed down and grabbed her ass with a smack causing her to yelp as he felt up the slightly boney thing, his cock leaking again with excitement at her being in his grasp and his hands felt up her body. "This won't do at all." He said tutting softly as he grabbed her chin. He loved to watch her cry... it stirred something noble feeling in his chest. She was a soft and frail thing that needed someone to protect her and he was going to be that one to do so.

"You'll fatten up soon enough and have breasts as enviable as any of the other concubines getting ravaged here." He made her look at one of the women face down on the floor with a pleasured look on her face as cum oozed down her thighs while one of the battle brothers was roughly rutting with her. She was too speechless only making whines of pleasure... he could smell the shameful arousal from Psychi... "Fat breasts for me to grope and hold," he whispers in her ear, "fattened hips for me to grab and feel my balls clap against." He turned to have her look at him, "You want to be in that position, dont you?"

He watched her shake her head and just chuckled, "I can smell you." He poked her nose like some amused child and not a being of twisted transhuman dread and the simple dread of the profane gifts he has gotten. He pushes her against his cock and she jerks in his grip.

"Please you're too big my lord please! Mercy!" She finally sobs and Tulio shivers, one of his hands gathering up his cum on some fingers.

"Hmm you're right... how about we change that." He leans her back slightly pouring the far too rich wine into her mouth. She lets out a sputtering noise as his cum covered finger pushed into her. She pushed the goblet away and coughed as the red wine stained her skin and wetting her hair as Tulio worked his finger in and out of her at a fast beat smearing just a light coating of his thick cum into her unprepared sex.

She felt her body relax and react to the way his finger moved in and out of her quickly and filled her with a thickness akin to a cock. Tulio's barbed tail twisted and coiled around itself in its own way to express its master's twisted glee. "Yes," he dulcetly crooned, "be a good girl and relax for me." A clawed hand moved over her stomach... claws gently tapping against those visible lower ribs of hers. Tulio loved the way she cried... the pitiful expression she wore just stroked something in him. Tulio felt that same sentimental twinge itch in the back of his mind... was this what loyalists felt over their charges?

He drags out a gasping moan as his index joins his middle finger. He pulls her dirty hair free of the frazzled braid and watches it spool out over the lounging chair. His eyes all focus on her... drinking in the full picture of her pleasure... his hands dance over her body. He held a memory covetously close to his wicked hearts... having seen her smile. Having seen her express a pure spark of joy even in hell. Her smile made such a frail looking creature like herself look radiant and glowing.

She whimpered under his ministrations as she writhed on the large lounging chair unable to stop squirming. Her eyes screwed shut as she was torturously close... Tulio leaned in as his long thin black tongue glided out of his mouth like some predatory beast and it moved into her... finding her clitoris... she squealed as she orgasamed and she tasted like he was expecting... unhealthily... but he wasn't a fully selfish lover... she'd taste like dark chocolate to him one day... that delightful bitter and salty combination mixed with an essence uniquely her's.

He knows she should have asked if there was anything else he needed... but his answer would have been a yes. His hooves touched the stone floor as he grabbed her by her upper arm and dragged her to another room, her legs seemingly failing her. She caught those pitying looks from the others but they would soon have to worry once the concubines were sent away with cum filled cunts. The sexual frenzy of his brothers would end soon... but he was going to indulge in his reward first.

Pressing her hands against the wall in the second room he rocks his cock against her back as he takes his time letting his eyes meander and wander over her body... again far too thin for his liking... he'd find out what fruits and sweets she'd like and help her indulge... oh he certainly was feeling the high that others got from the Prince of Pleasure. She was surly placed in his path by him to keep Tulio from giving it all to Khorne... just as the Weaver of Fate kept his mind sharp... and the loving Grandfather kept him hearty and hale... he would return to balance with his now continued indulgence of his dear Psychoula.

He tossed the empty metal goblet away as all of his hands moved over her body, two hands grabbing and squeezing her breasts on the edge of being too much for her body he could feel her try to flinch away but she was very much well trained... hardly flinching away at all. "I'll enjoy breaking you in... have you begging for my cock again."

She whimpered choosing to remain silent... Tulio clicked his tongue feeling a bit ignored. The way her eyes widened in horror as his palm talon shot out and punched a hole into the metal wall. How her body trembled against his as Tulio leaned in whispering, "I expect you to answer when I tell you something zoi mou. I'm being oh so very nice," He hissed into the shell of her ear, his hands on her breasts shifting to let his nails dig into her oh so frail flesh... "I could rip your flesh right off your body." That got a sob out of her, "Answer honestly my dear..."

He savored with sick delight as her mouth opened and closed as tears were flowing down her cheeks like rain. "Please just don't make it painful." She managed to squeak out of her without sobbing.

"Awww, zoi mou, is that what you're worried about?" He said grabbing her chin and having her look up at him. Of course, she'd be pain adverse for their first time together... perhaps they would work up to that... or not... Tulio just wanted her to be begging for his cock. To see her smile at him with a coy lustful grin in his bed as she wiggled her ass and bare sex to him just wanting to fill her. "I will do my best to make this a moment you want again." He kissed her temple.

She could feel the pointed head of his cock force its way between her prepared folds... it started out thin but got thicker towards the base. She pressed her forehead against the wall, forced to the tips of her toes as Tulio sunk inch after inch into her. Tulio on the other was clenching his jaw trying his best to not just break her and rip her apart for his first time with her. He had to be gentle...

His eyes snapped open, he didn't realize he closed them all, he licked the inside of his mouth as he adjusted his hips and began the slow thrust in and out of her divine sex. It's how he didn't burn himself out... he savored each time he had sex keeping them far enough apart that it made it feel so wonderful and new... he probably would be indulging so much more often if this is what was waiting for him.

Psychi whimpered as he picked her up, hands still on her breasts on the edge of being so painful. The way he wrapped his arms around her... she could feel him starting to squeeze... more and more. Her moans became less and less sure as the distraction of the sex was waning and the impending dread returned.

Tulio tilted her back and started to squeeze causing her to thrash around him, her walls fluttering around his cock causing him to groan as those tears rolled down her cheeks, "Lord Sydo! Lord Sydo please!" She screamed fearfully as she has seen what an Astartes can do to normal human flesh...

"Tulio." He hissed, "Call me Tulio... moan that out for me!"

"Tulio! Tulio!" She screams trying to moan but she just sobs as she can feel the pressure against her body... she was going to die.

"You say my name so sonorously how I am compelled to listen." He trills to her before tossing her naked body onto the bed in the room . He watches her try to recover but he is upon her swiftly and he plunged his cock back deep into her as once again she feels it dance on the edge of painful but Psychi can't help but moan slightly.

Tulio has been a kind lover... as he is certain she has orgasmed at least 4 times since he started giving her attention. The soft whimpers as his cock gently grinds against her cervix... perhaps he lied a little promising that this time wouldn't hurt... it would hurt a bit... one of his upper arms traps her in a headlock, he watches those eyes look at him with fear.

He promises zoi mou! Just let him breed you right now! You will come to love this! He thinks deliriously as his body suddenly floods with the right cocktail of chemicals and neurons firing. The tip of his cock pushes against the very back of her being... Psychi feels something move inside of her before she feel the pressure and she starts to just scream as it hurts. She claws at those ceremite ridges on his arm holding her, she's thrashing as she feels something move inside of her as Tulio's profane biology goes to work flooding his system with hormones as he lets out a soft groan as he finally releases inside of her.

I can't breathe! Is Psychi's last thought as it's too much for her... the racing of her heart... the painful pressure... his arm around her. She cannot hear the bellowed order from Tulio then the screaming from the "gift" mortals. No she gets no closure... as it all... fade... to ... black.

For the first time in her miserable short life... everything feels quiet... everything feels safe. She can feel sleep languidly pulling away from her but whatever she is on is soft. A gentle clean breeze kisses her cheeks and she can feel a gentle warmth on her skin that feels so comforting like a babe's blanket. She does her best to ignore the gentle light that dances across her eyelids occasionally.

She lets out a contented sigh and feels like all of that hardship... it was all a dream and she was finally dead. Something rustles behind her and a warm voice... strong... assured of itself... but it whispers to her, "Welcome Home." The voice says before gentle kisses are pressed against the back of her neck coaxing her back into the deep slumber. Home... what a funny word to here but if this was home... then she never wanted to leave.

Tulio Sydo Lieutenant of the Tyrannic division of the Traitor Primarch Robute Guilliman's Ultramarine legion... sighed contently watching his new wife, consort, concubine, possession. Return to her sleep as they were back in the Ultramar system and he was back home. He once more pressed kisses to the back of her neck as he thought how she would be modified soon... for now he would just enjoy finally having his zoi mou all to himself. His tail lazily swayed behind him as he closed those grass green eyes of his and trilled contently.

#oc: Tulio #oc: Psychi #Loyalty Swap #warhammer 40k #yandere space marine #space marine #yandere ultramarine #ultramarine #traitor astartes #traitor ultramarine #tw: dubcon #tw: dubious consent #tw: noncon #tw: yandere

[i-am-dulaman]

petition for that long rant on revolutions here, i really enjoyed the way you laid out your facts and explained the first rant and am not too good at reading theory myself (i am still trying tho) thanks!!

Okay okay so the problem with revolutions is they get messy. Real messy. You get counter-revolutionaries, moderates, extremists, loyalists, and everything in between. One revolution turns into 5, and even if your side wins, its almost guaranteed to have been tainted some way or another along the way.

Take the first french revolution. It started as civil unrest, the estates general initially called for reform of the french state into a constitutional monarchy similar to Britain. Even king louis XVI was in support of this. But extremists wanting a republic and counter-revolutionaries wanting absolute monarchy clashed and things became more and more chaotic and violent. Eventually the extremists won, the jacobin reign of terror ensued, and 10s of thousands of people were executed. Now don't get me wrong, i am all for executing monarchs and feudal lords, but look what happened a few years later; Napoleon used the political instability to declare himself emperor, a few more years later his empire had crumbled, and the monarchy was back with Louis XVIII.

Or take the 1979 iranian revolution. It started as protests against pahlavi, who was an authoritarian head of state and an American pawn. As the protests turned into civil resistance and guerilla warfare it took on many different forms. There were secularists vs islamic extremists. There were democrats vs theocrats vs monarchists. Etc. Through all the chaos, Khomeini seized power, held a fake referendum, and declared himself supreme leader and enforced many strict laws, particularly on women who previously had close to equal rights. Many of the millions of women involved in the revolution later said they felt bettayed by the end result.

Or the Russian Revolution. It started as protests, military strikes, and civil unrest during WW1 directed at the tsar. He stepped down in 1917 and handed power over to the Duma, the russian parliament. This new provisionary government initially had the support of soviet councils, including socialist groups like the menshiviks. But they made the major mistake of deciding to continue the war. Lenins bolsheviks were originally a very tiny group on the fringes of russian politics, but they were the loudest supporters of peace, so they gained support and organised militias into an army and thus began the russian civil war. Lenin won and followed through on his promise to end the war against germany, but its a bit ironic that they fought a civil war, that killed about 10 million people, just to end another war.

Im not saying any of these results were either bad or good. They all have nuance and its all subjective. But the point i am trying to make is that they get messy. The initial goals will always be twisted.

France wanted a constitutional monarchy, they got an autocratic emporer.

Iran wanted democracy and an end to American influence, and well they ended american influence alright but also got a totalitarian theocrat.

Russia wanted an end to world war 1 and got one of the bloodiest civil wars in history.

I cant think of a single revolution in history that achieved the goals it set out to achieve.

But again, im not saying this is necessarily a bad thing, just a warning against revolutionary rhetoric and criticisms of reformism. Sometimes revolution is the only option, when you're faced with an authoritarian government diametrically opposed to change, then a revolution may be worth the risk. But it is a risk.

But if you live in a democracy, claiming revolution is the only way is actively choosing both bloodshed and the risk of things going horribly wrong over the choice of peaceful reform.

So when i go online in some leftist spaces and see people claiming revolution in America or UK or wherever is the only way out of capitalism I cant help but feel angry.

I know our democracy is flawed, and reform is slow and can even go backwards, but we owe it to all the people who would die in a revolution to try reform first.

I know socialist reform is especially hard in our flawed democracy where capitalists own the media, but if we can't convince enough people to vote for socialist reform what hope do we have of convincing enough people to join a socialist revolution. Socialism is supposed to be for the people, but how can you claim your revolution is for the people if you can't even get the support of the people?

So what I'm trying to say is; if youre one of those leftists that are sitting around waiting for the glorious revolution, doing nothing but posting rhetoric online - at least try doing something else while you wait. Join your labour union, recruit your coworkers, get involved in your local socialist parties, call your local representatives (city council, senator, governor, member of parliament, whatever) and make your opinions known, push them further left, and keep pushing.

#thank you anon this waa fun #also when i say i cant think of any revolution in history that achieved its goals #im not counting wars of independence #i know americans call the american war of independence the revolutionary war but its not a revolution l #(for reference - the first rant that anon mentions is a reblog a couple days ago about the communist manifesto)

[bangtangalicious]

placebo (m) | pjm (2)

pairing: jimin x reader, jungkook x reader, namjoon x reader (later)

summary: a microchip signals to you when you find someone compatible to be your soulmate. yours is the opposite of you in every way, and he doesn't even believe in soulmates

genre: 18+ romance, smut, angst, soulmate!au, dystopian backdrop, love triangle, romeo-juliet, opposites attract, grumpy-sunshine, fate versus destiny

premise: the soulmate initiative was a state program to promote healthy relationships. all citizens have a chip which signals to them when they find someone who meets their compatibility threshold. park jimin is a member of the resistance that aims to dismantle the state, as well as programs like this which rob free will. determined to love him no matter your differences, you fight for him despite the danger it puts both you and him in

wc: 8.5k || series masterlist | part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

warnings: multiple & explicit smut scenes, lots of kissing good lord, penetrative sex, rough sex, love-making, emotional sex, public sex, oral (f rec), fingering, fondling, fluffy aftercare, jungkook sorta just walks in on you while showering so theres that, physical fighting (not mc), blackmail, a is for angst, crying, mention of family deaths, use of cigarettes, lying, jimin might be a tiny bit toxic if you squint

taglist: @tornparts @loona15 @effielumiere @agustdreamsblog @jnghs @dragons-flare @xiusmarshmallow @ratherbefangirling @infires-imagines @aretha170 @dvalitaes @kookiejeonie @ddaeng-angmoh @idk123906 @medievalpink5 @cuteipat @jimin-neverout @uarmyhore @natalie-rdr @secradee @tea4sykes @yawnkive

Indulgence. The ironic meeting spot of the resistance within the isolated Red District of the city. Neon lights flickering across inebriated eyes—eyes that dreamed of justice but currently were mesmerized by the dancers, embodying grace and allure, fluid movements, enticing glances, bodies telling tales of desire. Here they would congregate, removed from the prying eyes of society.

Jimin pushed open the heavy door, hit with the aromatic blend of perfume, whiskey, and sweat. An intoxicating haze. Across the room, Jin and the others sat, cigarettes lit and glasses clinking. A celebration of sorts—Jimin wondered why. They never invited him here. Frankly, he never cared to come either. It was a liability. Jimin was one of the few resistance members that continued to possess the state-mandated microchip. Him arriving in person to a banned establishment such as a strip club, put the entire area on the state’s radar.

Nevertheless, Jin texted him to come. So he obeyed.

“There he is” Jin greeted him from the comfort of the leather-clad booth. The light chatter diminishing as the others acknowledged him. Jimin took a seat, Jin handing him the cigarette right away.

As the smoke caressed his senses, a fleeting calm washed over him, a momentary escape from the chaos of the world. The world around him seemed to dim, and his mind went straight to you. How it felt so right to have your body hugged up against him when he rode you home. Your lips hovering over his neck, your scent, all of you overwhelming all of him. Speeding way beyond the limit at the edge of the night. No one to find you, no one to interfere.

In that moment the two of you were not soulmates. You were two people, high on the danger, adrenaline, and glimpse of a new beginning. You were alive.

Jimin’s lips curled in a subtle smile. The others could never know. He couldn’t imagine what they would do to you, if they knew. Jimin’s mere presence around you was a danger. The risk he took seeing you was worth it, for the thrill. But he knew better than to push his luck.

“Who’s got you smiling like that?” Across the table, Min Yoongi—a high ranked member who was like a mentor to his brother, teased. Jimin shrugged, tapping the ashtray. He wondered if any of them had felt the kind of high he had with you. Heart racing, fingers trembling, blood hot with desire.

“Jimin went to see his soulmate”

He blinked. Jin’s smile was wide—cocky. The whole table looked around in shock, exchanging looks of concern.

“Hyung what the hell” Jimin muttered under his breath. He didn’t know how Jin found out, probably had him followed. Fuck, he knew he shouldn’t have done it. He should have cut all contact with you the second he found out.

But he was too curious. Too drawn to your sweet taste that left scars on his lips. Was that selfish?

“Look,” Jin cleared his throat, “We’ve had come concerns about your commitment to the cause” Listening patiently, Jimin took another sharp inhale, letting the smoke dissipate through his lips. “You have an opportunity to prove your loyalty. Are you willing to do so?”

Willing. What a joke—Jimin mused. Technically, the resistance would never force actions on any of its members. But Jimin was a puppet and the strings of the fight for freedom chained him.

“Jimin’s soulmate also happens to be a scientist. Working on experiments for the Soulmate Initiative itself”

Jimin’s fists clenched, tempted like many other times to give Jin a solid punch to the face. A waitress approached the table. “Sir, this young woman was looking for you” She motioned to the entrance where you stood. Uncomfortable, scanning the foreign space.

Jimin exhaled, breath full of smoke, coughing out in shock. What the fuck were you doing here?

“Ah, she’s pretty, Jimin. If she were mine I’d probably buy into the soulmate crap just for a taste, although I’m assuming that’s what you’ve been doing huh” Jin teased. Jimin kicked his shin, not appreciating his flirty tone.

Setting down his cigarette, he immediately stood. Passing back an annoyed glare at Jin who simply chuckled.

Without a word he pulled you outside into the cold. The wind was crisp still—his leather jacket shielding him from it. And you were drowning in your puffy coat, knitted hat covering up to your eyelids.

Cute.

“Miss me already, doctor?” Jimin teased, trying his best to figure out why the hell you would have come here, and moreover how you would have known about this place.

You tugged at your sleeves, nose scrunching as you searched for words. He stared into your eyes. Your pretty, fucking gorgeous eyes that transfixed him like hypnosis. Eyes that said so much so loud, and yet he was dying to hear them. Jimin tried to fight it, the way every fiber of him was screaming to kiss you, fists clenching as he held himself back.

And then you bit your lip. So subtly, out of habit. But you did. And fuck.

Fuck.

Jimin lost it. He smashed his lips against yours. The taste he swore he was addicted to. Craving your lips, gasping, breathing you in. Hands cupping your face, forehead tilted against yours—he kissed you like your touch was all he needed to survive.

Maybe it was.

“Get off of me” You shoved him away. Jimin stared at you, stunned. “Asshole”

“Y/n—what?” He reached for your hand, but you pulled it away. Had he done something? His mind whirred, scanning through your entire evening. Every word he said, every move he made. He loved every second—and he thought you had too.

“Fuck you Jimin. I lost my job because of what you did” You gripped his jacket.

What the hell is she talking about? Jimin’s eyes softened. “You lost your job?”

His brows furrowed in confusion, until Jin’s words came echoing back. An opportunity to prove yourself.

They were testing him.

“You stole the data from the lab, didn’t you?”

Jimin’s nails dug into his palm as he took a deep breath.

“Yeah.” His response curt. He watched as tears began to spill from your eyes. His throat felt tight, chest pounding with regret.

“Why?”

“You know why, doctor”

“Did today mean nothing to you?” Your voice was small. Jimin stepped back, hand running through his hair. Lying to you felt wrong, but he had to do it. He had to lie to you. He had to destroy this before it began.

“Look, I don’t want to be in a relationship with you” The words left his mouth before he could stop them. The hurt in your eyes broke him a little. “I only went to see you because I had a job to do. I tricked you. That’s who I am”

This was for the best. So why did it feel so fucking horrible?

You shook your head furiously, “You’re lying”

“If you had a mind of your own, you wouldn’t even want to be in a relationship with someone like me anyway. That’s how I know it’s bullshit. They’re controlling you”

“No” You were stubborn, “No, I know you feel it too”

Jimin wanted to break. Shatter into a million pieces and get whisked away by the wind. His heart ached, bliss was only a truth away.

“Of course I fucking feel it, there’s a chip in my fucking neck telling me to” Jimin snapped, grabbing your waist, “And god does it feel good. So fucking good, I want to kiss you so fucking bad whenever I see you. But that’s all it is. I’m not in love with you Y/n—I can’t be”

You stepped away from him, evidently shaking. Jimin felt awful—sick to his core. Each tear streaming down your face was a bullet to his heart. A punch to the face. He wished the ground would swallow him whole. This was his fault—he shouldn’t have entertained you, not for a second. You should hate him, and he knew you probably wouldn’t because of the damn microchip. Which was the most frustrating part.

“Y/n are you done?”

Jimin turned to see Jungkook pull up in a small electric car. His glasses were foggy, hair a shaggy mess over his long coat.

“Glasses. Always a pleasure”

“Shut the fuck up man” Jungkook parked the car, stepping out to rush past him, taking you into his arms. Jimin crossed his arms over his chest, watching as Jungkook wiped your tears away before leading you into the car.

You turned back, one last time. He wondered if you could read his eyes. If you could, he was screaming out to you.

Fists balled up in fury, he stormed back inside the club. Jin stood by the window, amused by the whole ordeal. Slow applause filled his ringing ears as Jin approached him, patting him on his back.

“Well done. Almost wasn’t sure you had it in you”

Jimin had enough. He felt disgusting. Venom through his veins as his throat felt heavy with guilt. He was sick and tired of Jin. Sick and tired of the resistance dictating his every move. Holding their money over his head—he could be fine on his own. He could go off, get a job somewhere and fend for himself. Maybe he could get a scholarship to keep studying, he would never know. Under the guise of his brother’s wishes, how much was he expected to sacrifice?

With a surge of adrenaline, he lunged forward, fists clenched, aiming towards his Jin’s jaw. The music stopped. People gathered around, watching intently. Jimin’s eyes fuming with rage.

“You forget who the fuck I am?” Jimin sneered, “You’re out of line.”

Jin chuckled darkly, touching his bruise before standing back upright. “Oh come on, you don’t actually care about her. You barely know the bitch” Jimin swung at him again, but Jin dodged him move, forearm intercepting to twist him back. Jimin proceeded to kick back into his gut.

“Call her a bitch again, see what happens.” Jin landed on the floor, grunting as Jimin towered over him, “Get her her fucking job back Jin”

Jin wasn’t backing down. He punched Jimin back, the clash of their fists echoed through the silent room. Blow after blow exchanged, the impact reverberating through their bodies, fueling their determination.

“Where the fuck would you go?” Jin laughed between strikes, “She will never forgive you now. I you both a favor”

Jin dodged another swift punch, retaliating with a swift kick to his Jimin’s abdomen. Jimin staggered backward, but quickly regained his footing, launching himself back at him.

“You can’t love her Jimin, even if you wanted to” Jin rammed Jimin against the wall, trapping his throat with his elbow. Attempting to reason with him. “A part of you would always wonder. I know you kid. You have a duty to your brother”

“You’re the reason my brother is dead” Jimin hissed, trying to push Jin off but to no avail. They stood, chests heaving, their eyes locked with an intense spite.

“Okay enough” Yoongi interrupted, rolling his eyes. He held Jimin’s shoulder before nodding to Jin to let him go. “Jin, please get the poor girl her job back. That’s an order. And Jimin, the resistance core will be in touch about a character review. Stay away from the scientist—you know the rules”

You—

At some point it began to rain. Standing still, cold droplets seeping through your coat made you shiver. A welcome sensation, numbing the pain in your chest.

Jungkook unlocked your apartment before pulling you into his chest. You sobbed into him as he pressed his lips on top of your head.

"You poor thing, let’s get you into the shower"

He was sweet, handing you towels, laying out a pair of dry clothes for you. The hot vapor of the shower forcing you relax, forcing you to wipe away the tears on your cheeks. You slid to the floor, the shower pouring down on your back. Hot water scalding against your head. Hugging your knees to your chest.

You hear the shower door slide open, not reacting as your voice dried into soft sobs. Jungkook hovered over you, clothes getting wet at the edge of the water. Instead of focusing on the fact that you were completely naked, soaking wet in front of him, he looked into your eyes. Worried.

Finally, he crawled into the tiny space, sitting down by your side. His large hands caressing your hunched shoulders. You met his gaze. Grateful for him, as always.

God why couldn't it have been him? Such a perfect piece to your missing puzzle. His hair began to curl up in front of his eyes, dewy as he shook the water away. He was so close. So warm. Lips so soft, so near.

He smiled, and you could tell his thoughts mirrored yours. Eyes scanning over your face, your body, before he looked away. A disappointment in his eyes.

"I told you he was no good" Jungkook muttered, a hint of bitterness.

Closing your eyes, you focused on the way the water flowed over your head, down onto your eyelids, dripping off onto your face. Your boss, Dr. Jung had texted you—the data was missing. All of it, your years of work grinding through your degree. Jimin had stolen all of it. Inviting himself into your lab under the guise of wanting to give you a chance. It was a lie. You could barely fathom that soulmates could lie to one another. Let alone hurt them so deeply. Your fingers trembled, pressed between your knees.

“If I had been his type.” You confessed, laughing slightly, “Or somehow better, then he might have believed just a little bit that we were actually meant to be together, and maybe this wouldn’t have happened. Maybe he wouldn’t have betrayed me”

“Bullshit” Jungkook said quietly, “It’s not you. It’s how he was raised”

You knew he was right. Ever logical, Jungkook never entertained pointless theory. He looked at the facts—and the fact was that you finally met your soulmate. And he was part of the resistance, a group built around free will. Something they claim the state denies through programs such as the Soulmate Initiative.

“Y/n” Jungkook interrupted your thoughts, “Have you ever considered that Jimin just may not want a soulmate at all?”

You stared at Jungkook. Picking at your nails nervously as you considered his question. There were no laws that forced soulmates to be together. It was usually the case that they simply chose to do so. It was logical, to you. Be with the person you are compatible with—the person who can love you and make you happy. Complete you like no one else can. You thought back to your “date” with him. The way you felt so incredibly safe with him. The amazing adrenaline rush you felt holding onto him for dear life as he raced on his motorcycle. The look in his eyes after he kissed you.

Those were facts. That was real.

“When I first saw Jimin and knew, I found myself wishing I hadn’t looked” You placed your hand over Jungkook’s.

Jungkook stared blankly at the floor. Body tensing at your words.

“Well” Turning off the shower, he stared at you, at your body. “I never looked anywhere but at you” Frozen in place, his throat tight, cheeks blushing.

You stared at him, bewildered.

His fingers trapped your jaw, before allowing his lips to slide onto yours. You groaned into his mouth, as his other hand rested on your thigh. Gripping at your skin.

As your lips touched, a surge of conflicting emotions coursed through your veins. For years this was all you wanted. Him—just like this. Wanting you just as bad. Time stood still as your mouths delicately met, exploring each other, evoking a rush of feeling. Of comfort.

But what it felt like with Jimin was different. Something you couldn’t quite make sense of. Logic was misaligned, but Jimin felt incredible to kiss. His smile made you giddy with happiness.

As Jungkook pulled away, a mixture of confusion and clarity settled upon you. You missed Jimin, despite it all. Your heart may not be ready to forgive, but you weren’t ready to give up either. There had to be more to the story. You simply refused to believe your soulmate would ever put you in harms way.

“Forget about him” Jungkook urged almost knowingly, voice trying desperately to push out your infiltrative thoughts. His nose tracing yours, “Just forget him”

He slid his lips onto yours again, this time with more intensity. You could feel without a doubt that he wanted you. As you fell back onto the cold shower floor, Jungkook’s hand cushioning your head. His eyes locked shut—but yours wide open.

You groaned in surprise, attempting to push his large frame away. He got the hint, lifting you back up.

“Let me stay with you tonight” Jungkook pleaded, grabbing a towel and wrapping it over your shoulders. “So you don’t have to be alone”

You couldn’t say no. It hurt too much.

You woke up in Jungkook’s arms, his hands on your stomach, and your back against his chest. Carefully you tried to move your legs which were wedged between his.

He groaned, feeling you move. Tightening his hold and pulling you back to him. You felt your breath escape you as Jungkook’s prominent boner pressed into your thigh. You were a scientist. A biologist—so you knew these things were perfectly normal. But you couldn’t help the way your stomach erupted into butterflies.

“Morning,” Jungkook reached out, stretching cutely. “That was the best sleep I’ve gotten in a while” He confessed, nuzzling against your neck. “You sleep okay?”

Your heart hammered in your chest. He was being incredibly sweet-addictively so, and you wanted to give in.

“Yeah I did, thanks” You leaned into his touch, his lips warm and sloppy against your nape. You couldn’t help the soft moan leaving your lips as his hands slid over your stomach. Threatening to go higher.

“You smell so good” He muttered lazily. A small smile painted your lips. Your phone began to vibrate. Checking the screen, you raised your eyebrows.

“Dr. Jung?”

“Y/n, it seems as though the data were returned,” He sounded annoyed, per usual, “You must have some great connections because I’ve been ordered to re-employ you, but best believe if you bring another stranger into my lab again—”

“Oh, uh. N-Never, sir”

The man hung up. You blinked slowly, processing. “I got my job back”

Jungkook’s smile widened, “That’s great—”

“Jimin did this,” You stood up urgently, interrupting Jungkook, “I have to find him”

“Y/n” Jungkook grabbed your arm before you could run off. “He doesn’t want you. He made that clear”

You shook your head, “I can’t give up. I deserve love, and so does he”

Jimin—

The resistance core was furious once they caught wind of Jimin’s actions. He was to be put in front of the resistance core council to debate his allegiance. Jimin couldn’t care less. Perhaps this was the escape—you were the escape, the chance he needed to get out and find his own destiny. Course, you were gone. You wouldn’t be able to forgive him, hell, Jimin wouldn’t want you to.

You were probably with Jungkook. He wondered if you liked Jungkook back since he clearly liked you. Maybe he comforted you. Maybe the two of you slept together.

Jimin wanted to vomit.

“Jimin” The council head spoke after some silence, reviewing the documented complaints, “We believe in free will. If you don’t want to support us, the cause that your brother gave so much to, to avenge the death of your family, that is your prerogative. However if you intend to stay with us, you must agree to never make contact with The Scientist ever again”

Nodding, Jimin gulped. He figured as much.

“We realize the pull of the Soulmate Initiative is tough to resist. And we do want you to be happy. So if you really do want to be with The Scientist, you can do so if she leaves her job and is willing to cooperate with us”

He couldn’t do that to you. No way.

Jimin had to decide. Jin was right, if he left he didn’t have anywhere to go. Not a penny to his own name. He did want to see change. At least here, he was able to make an impact. Here, his existence had some meaning.

“I won’t contact her again. I am grateful for the council’s mercy”

On his bike, he had no direction. No sense of where he was going—but he drove on. Fast, dangerously swerving the roads. He couldn’t talk to you, but he could check up on you at least. No, that would be far too painful.

Tears built in his eyes, clouding his vision. Bringing his motorcycle to a stop on the edge of the highway, he cried. A child denied a toy, he cried because he missed you. Because his body wanted you and he had to deny it. Deny you. Everything stripped away from him—his family, brother and now you. Was there a point to any of it?

“Are you alright?” A car halted—large white SUV, clearly indicating a state official. The window was tainted black, bulletproof. As it rolled down, Jimin could see a pair of eyes. It was a man. He looked vaguely familiar.

“Yeah, I’m good”

He rode to campus, soul void. Studying was a proven distraction to his hopeless reality. After all, he couldn’t afford to sulk around. He had to keep moving. As he walked towards the law library, he saw you. You saw him. The two of you frozen in time.

Until you were running. Running to him with your arms open and he caught you, swinging you up with the momentum, hand behind your head as he hugged you into him. Nirvana. Instinct, taking in all you were—your scent, the heat from your body—until he realized he was touching you and pushed you away.

“I got my job back” You were elated, brimming with excitement. Jimin wanted to kiss every inch of your smiling face. A warm feeling erupting from your happiness.

“Glad to hear it, doctor” He remained stoic, nevertheless. He needed you to give up. Needed you to get away.

“You care about me, you did this”

Jimin sighed. Why did his soulmate have to be the most stubborn woman on the fucking planet—he didn’t know.

“I don’t care about you”

“Stop fighting me” You pleaded, grabbing his shoulders and shaking them. “Look I’m sure you had your reasons for doing what you did. We can move past this”

“I already told you I don’t want this”

You stepped forward, face inched away from his, a fiery determination in your eyes.

“Really?” You tilted your face, squinting at him. Jimin nodded, eyebrows raised.

You stroked his face, just as he had done to you many times. He was stiff, taken aback by your forwardness. Without thinking, you pushed yourself onto your toes so you could melt into a kiss. You knew he could feel it, down to his bones—nothing was more right in the world than when you were in his arms, lips on his. No moral compass could keep you apart in those moments, Jimin was merely a servant, a fool bending to your magnetism and he would give up everything in an instant to feel like this forever.

His lips parted, letting you slip your tongue in. Widening your jaw to deepen the kiss. Tender in his actions, taming his need. Savoring every second.

Tears rolled down his face. If this was the last time he’d ever see you, he wanted it all. Forehead pressed against yours, his eyes flickered from your eyes to your lips, breathing barely inches away. Panting. Heart pounding.

“I can’t” You could feel his words, spoken upon your lips. Tone serious. No teasing, no flirting, just straight. “They won’t let me”

He stared at you a beat longer. Before grabbing your wrist, dragging you behind the library to an alleyway near the dumpsters. He pressed you against the wall, gripping your waist firmly.

He dove into your neck, fluttering kisses all over. Fingers trailing up your sides to where he grabbed your wrists, stretching them to either side of you. Movement urgent, frantic—you were his kryptonite, and he was unraveling at the seams.

Your fingers intertwined with his, as he nipped at your jaw. Breathing heavily, you attempted to call out his name but no voice came. Instead a soft moan. His fingers tightened around yours as he pulled away, staring into your eyes.

Silence. Only the sounds of both of you desperately trying to catch your breath. Flushed and bewildered.

“You should leave” Jimin’s voice was coarse. Deeper than usual, “Go”

He didn’t move. Neither did you. You challenged him, gaze unwavering. Waiting to see what he would do next.

It was as if something inside of him snapped. Something feral, raw, suppressed. Instantly he released your hands, fumbling to unbutton your pants. He yanked them down just enough before doing so to himself. Fingers softly gliding over your folds, barely teasing. He grabbed your hips, lifting you up against the wall before yanking your panties aside. Biting his lip, focused. You watched, gripping onto his shoulders for dear life, as his cock teased your entrance.

“Tell me to stop” He growled. “Tell me right fucking now doctor”

You shook your head, sliding your hand to his jaw. Blinking you stared into his lust shot eyes, eyelids fluttering, hazy with desire.

He sank into you slowly, letting out a low groan into your neck. Hands holding you steady, he was patient. Despite the heated urgency of his actions. There was not a thought in his head. Not a thought in yours. Nothing but raw need as he felt your hot walls tighten around him.

Jimin’s nose traced yours as he began to move in and out. Bouncing you up against the wall while your hands ran through his hair, scratching at him. Grabbing fistfuls and tugging his head back. He was so deep, so full inside you. The drag of his cock against your walls had you seeing stars. Rolling your eyes back, you wanted to scream.

“Ssh, be quiet for me doctor” Jimin kissed your lips playfully, lingering as he continued to fuck into you. He rolled his hips, pushing you up with every thrust, fingers digging into the bottom of your ass.

He let you onto your feet, pulling out so he could turn you around. Your hands up against the wall, his wrapped around your chest, shamelessly grabbing at you over your coat. It wasn’t enough. He wanted to feel you. Unzipping the damned thing he tossed it aside, enveloping you to keep you from the cold.

Finally his hands could slip under your sweater, pushing it up to the tops of your chest, tits sensitive to his touch. Hooking his jaw over your shoulder he watched as he squeezed your breasts, caressing them fondly.

Jimin pressed his lips against your collar, digging in his teeth. Keeping a hand on your chest, he slid back into you from behind, this time immediately rocking his hips steady into you. You arced your back, reaching back to grab his hair again. The slippery echoes of your cunt getting louder as his thrusts intensified.

Pressing you up even closer to the wall, he let one hand dive in front of you, fingers gliding over your clit. His touch was gentle, reaching exactly where you needed him to. And he could tell. Smiling against the back of your head as he felt you beginning to tremble. Wetness seeping as his cock nudged in further, finger rapidly circling your clit right there. Pushing you closer and closer to your edge.

Nothing but red. Red heat building inside of you, toes curling, lungs clenching—you couldn’t breathe. His body so close, the warmth against the cold air. You bucked forward, body spasming, twitching all over. He didn’t waver, he kept going, finger working you through your orgasm. Biting back moans as you tightened around his cock. Your wetness seeping through, soaking him.

Cursing, he pulled out, afraid he was going to lose himself in the sweet sensation of you. Turning you back around he pulled your thighs apart, sliding his cock against your clit, causing you to wince.

“Fuck, come here” He gritted, pulling you into another kiss. His hand tugging at his cock. He spilled into his palm, letting out a deep moan.

Finding steadiness, he cleaned himself up, zipping up his pants as you did the same. Grabbing your coat from the ground, he handed it to you.

As he was doing so, you noticed the bruises on his skin.

“Jimin—are you hurt?” You touched him again, causing him to flinch. “When did this happen?”

“Don’t” He warned. “Just go”

“Can I at least bandage you—my place isn’t too far from here, come on okay” You grabbed his wrist, tugging him along. Jimin stood firm in his ground.

“Why can’t you fuck off”

You turned back at him, “Fine, let me do this and then you can go—I won’t bother you again”

Jimin looked at you skeptically, but chose to go along regardless. He followed you through campus, the snow beginning to melt away—spring was nearing. He could see tiny flower buds on bushes, birds chirping in the distance. Your apartment was cozy. A smaller building, you were on the top floor. Frazzled, you fumbled with your keys to get in, and Jimin was hardly surprised to see the haphazard shape your place was in—textbooks, papers everywhere. 

“Sorry about the mess”

Jimin was a neat freak himself. Nevertheless, he swallowed his irks and let you lead him into your bedroom. He scanned the walls, aside from some nerdy science posters there wasn’t much there. He noticed your shelf of romance novels, as well as a copy of Dr. Kim Namjoon’s memoir.

You pulled off his jacket, then his shirt. His toned muscles littered with purple. The bruises causing your eyes to widen. Jimin couldn’t help but smirk. They weren’t watching anymore—no harm in teasing you a little.

“Like what you see doc?”

You blushed, meeting his eyes before immediately returning to your task. “No—I mean, yeah you look great. Not your bruises—those don’t look good at all, but here let me just—” You found a first aid kit under your bed. Grabbing some gauze and alcohol, you began to tend to his wounds. He watched as you kneeled in front of him, focus lasered onto the task at hand.

Jimin grabbed your jaw suddenly, overwhelmed by your tender care. Pulling your face to his. You blinked at him, stunned as he kissed you softly. Humming against your mouth. More relaxed, at ease, as if he had all the time in the world.

“Jimin let me—mmpfh” He didn’t let you finish. He didn’t want to hear another word. Pulling you into his lap, he slid your own coat to the floor. Not leaving your lips for a second.

“No” You squealed, giggling slightly. “No more until you let me clean your wounds”

Jimin pouted, looking to you with puppy eyes. “But you’re my doctor aren’t you—and this makes me feel good”

“I thought you wanted to leave” You taunted him right back. He grinned, enjoying the way you were pushing him.

“I’m not in a rush” His eyes darkened, tugging at your bottom lip with his teeth.

“You don’t ever have to leave, you know” You offered. “They can’t hurt you here”

Jimin raised his eyebrows, “The resistance you mean? Why are you gonna take them all on your own?” He nudged you playfully. You shrugged.

“I could use my evil science powers”

Jimin laughed. Laughed in a way he hadn’t in a long time. Why did he want to leave so badly—why did he have to push you away? Could he dare to hope that you two could survive anything—it seemed unrealistic. Cliché. But here he was, dumb in love with you despite his best efforts.

Wait what.

Jimin gulped, growing serious all of a sudden as he continued to stare at you. You rose from his lap, a goofy smile on your face as you packed up the first aid kit.

“You said they won’t let you…were you talking about the resistance? Will they not let you be with me? Because I’m your soulmate” He watched as you wandered into your kitchen.

“It’s not because you’re my soulmate. It’s your job” Jimin responded, “But I also don’t believe in this soulmate stuff, which you know”

“Well clearly you do when it helps you get laid” You joked. He knew you were joking, but it wasn’t funny to him. His physical attraction to you was feverish, and it concerned him that he might be taking advantage of you. Getting benefits of a commitment he was unwilling to make. You returned, noticing his serious aura. “Jimin—it’s fine. You told me you don’t want me, anything that happened after was my choice”

You don’t want me. Of course he wanted you. How could he not want you—you were perfect. You were suffocatingly stubborn, clingy, messy and absolutely clueless but you were perfect. And you would fight to the ends of the earth for what you believed in, while Jimin wasn’t sure if he believed in anything anymore.  

“I’d never ask you to leave your job. But they own me, Y/n. I really can’t do anything about it. I didn’t even steal your data. They did, and they made me take the fall for it so that you’d hate me and leave me alone”

“I will leave you alone Jimin, if I think that’s what you actually want” You held his hand firmly, “But I have a tough time thinking that’s true”

Jimin looked at you. The glimmer of hope in your eyes. “Even if they allowed it, that doesn’t change the fact that we’re inherently not compatible”

“We are compatible. We’re soulmates. You do what you have to do for the resistance, I won’t interfere and I would never sell you out”

“What if my job forces me to damage something you believe in though?”

You sighed deeply. Jimin could tell you didn’t know the answer. Despair began to weigh down on you both, how unlucky must you be to have been matched to someone like him. He wanted to be the man you deserved, but he wasn’t. Plain and simple.

“I like you, Jimin” You confessed instead. “I think you’re great. I want you. You’re in my dreams, I can’t not think about you. Even when Jungkook kissed me I,”

Jimin’s grip on your hand loosened. “Jungkook kissed you?”

“It didn’t mean anything! He was just trying to comfort me, I think”

He put his hands up in defense, “I’m not upset with you doctor—I get it. He’s cute”

You made a face, “You make fun of him”

Jimin winked, “You can be lame and cute at the same time. You are”

“You think I’m lame?”

“I think you’re a nerd” He confessed, matter of factly. You punched him playfully before sliding your lips onto his. He pulled you against his chest, holding you tenderly. “Prettiest fucking nerd, but nerd nonetheless”

You giggled against his lips. He kissed you again and again, smiling in between and it was everything. Jimin couldn’t even fathom that you were real. A real person in his arms making him so happy—elated about the future in a way he was sure he’d never been before. You were everything. The start of everything.

Falling onto his back, you climbed over him, lips not parting for even a moment. His hands gripping at the hem of your sweater before you allowed him to pull it over your head. He admired you, lips swollen in nothing but your baby blue sports bra.

He let his fingers trail over the fabric, drawing light circles and watching the way you twitched under him. You gasped, unconsciously rolling your hips against him. The look on your face was priceless, biting down on your lip hard as you tried to tame down your sensitivity. Adorable, how you thought Jimin couldn’t tell. That he couldn’t read your body like the back of his hand. Finally you grabbed his wrists, stopping his movements so that you could pull off your bra. Your breasts popping out—Jimin lay dumbfounded, eyes glued to your body.

You looked at him, shy. Jimin exhaled shakily, unsure how to capture his amazement. He wanted to touch—so fucking bad. You rose carefully, sliding down you trousers until you were left in your panties. Then those dropped to the floor.

“Fucking hell doctor, you’re gonna give me a heart attack” He stood up, unzipping his own pants where his bulge was painful, burning between his legs. Kicking the garments aside, his hands hovered over your waist—barely touching. Waiting for your signal.

“You’re beautiful”

Jimin’s ears burned at your words, blush across his face. You looked at him with awe. His heart fluttered, realizing he had never really been complimented on his looks before, merely his ability to fight.

“Can I touch you?” His voice was raspy, barley audible. Lust seized every fiber of him. “Please let me fucking touch you”

You nodded, and Jimin wasted not one more second grabbing your hips, sliding his hands to your ass where he squeezed you as his lips locked with yours.

Laying you down on the bed, his lips trailed every inch of your skin from your toes, up your calves, down your thighs. Loving the way you twitched and moaned at his every move. Riling you up, he wanted to see you fall apart under him. His fingers found your clit again, palm rolling under your folds. You grinded on his wrist, fingers helplessly clutching the sheets beneath you.

Dropping to his knees, he spread your thighs, admiring your glistening folds. You bucked your hips as he traced them—trying desperately to shut your legs but he overpowered you.

“Jimin I’ve never—I don’t know if that’s such a good” He shushed you sweetly, looking deep into your eyes. Kissing the insides of your thigh, he worked he way to your pussy. Slow, patient, kissing the edge of your folds as you squealed.

“It’s okay baby, I want to” He promised, and you believed him. His hand caressing your thigh to ease the tension before he slipped in his tongue. Eyes not leaving yours for a second. It was incredibly intimate. He seemed to consume you, in a white-hot blaze of adoration. You reached for him, sitting up to grab a fistful of his hair. The pull turned him on even more, his tongue flicking faster, eating you out for all you were worth.

“Jimin” You panted, “Ohh fuck” He continued to fuck his tongue inside of you, drinking up your essence. His wet tongue hot, deep in your core where you could feel his every move—driving you crazy. Your eyes dazed, frazzled beyond belief. Lips parted as your eyes rolled back with pleasure.

Coming up for air, he licked his lips, savoring your taste. You stared at him with blasted eyes as he crawled up to your face so he could kiss you again.

“Thank you” Jimin chuckled at your words.

“You don’t have to thank me, baby. It’s my fucking pleasure”

“Should I do you?”

He shook his head. If he didn’t pound his cock inside you right now, he swore he was going to implode.

“Open up for me baby, yeah?” He lined his cock up with your soaked cunt. Slowly, inch by inch he began to slide in. You bit down on your lips hard, until blood trickled out. Jimin licked it right up, tongue teasing your lips before sliding into your mouth. He bottomed out, lips glued to yours, groaning into you. Propped up on his forearms, he gave you a moment to adjust. He felt so good—shafted deep inside you. You clenched around him obscenely tight, he was seeing stars. You were a dizzy hurricane, and he wanted to be swept up by you. Destroyed until there was nothing left.

“You feel so good” He buried his face into your neck, “Fuck baby, so fucking good for me. You feel okay baby? Can I move?”

“Y-yeah” At your green light, Jimin carefully pulled out. Back in, tight thrusts beginning to pick up in pace. Dotting your face with kisses between each one. He swore he was losing consciousness, vision blurred with desperation—craving of you. Heart pounding as pleasure wiped through his nerves.

Hooking your leg over his shoulder, he adjusted his angle, hitting you even deeper. Your cunt coating him, the sound and smell of sex driving Jimin feral. His hands grabbing your breasts, wanting you to be stimulated—to feel as good as he was.

“Fuck baby, I don’t ever want to leave” His mind was void. Reason out the door as he spewed nonsense. “I’ll leave it all for you baby, leave it all for this fucking cunt—oh God”

“Don’t leave” You responded, disoriented by his pace. “Don’t ever leave me”

“I won’t baby, fuck, I’m never leaving” He kissed you firmly, letting your leg fall to the side. He stared into your eyes, foreheads touching as he drove his cock in deep. “You like it baby? You want my big fucking cock, yeah?”

You nodded furiously as he taunted you. The pout in your lips sending him overboard. “Fuck baby I’m gonna cum so fucking hard—you’re so fucking hot, my pretty girl—where do you want me? Want me to cum on your face?”

“Please” You gasped as he pulled out, tugging his cock as he kneeled tall over you, letting his cum squirt down onto your eyelids. He groaned, taken by the sensation and by how sexy you looked covered in his cum like that. Ropes of cum streaming out as his hips bucked, hot pleasure seizing him.

“Fuckk” He collapsed onto you, burying his face into your chest. Rolling onto your sides, you caressed his head against you. He looked up at you, nothing but fondness in his eyes. Wiping the cum off of you with his discarded t-shirt.

The two of you lay in silence, simply adoring one another. Jimin pulled you into his arms, grabbing your comforter so the two of you could slide under. He stroked your back softly, fingers trailing up and down your spine. Naked legs tangling. Fitting against each other like a puzzle. He kissed your forehead as you buried your face into his chest.

“You okay?” He asked after some time, massaging your shoulders gently. You peered up at him, content and blissed.

“This is really nice” You whispered, trying to hide your smile. Jimin held your chin steady, preventing you from turning away.

“You’re so cute” He muttered, landing another peck to your lips. It never got old, he swore he could kiss you forever. “I—”

He stiffened, unsure if he was ready to say it. It was too soon, and he still lacked the answers of how the two of you could possibly work, and you must have known because you simply chuckled.

“I know. Me too”

You—

The lab had always been your safe space. The comfort of the chunky white lab coats, latex-free gloves and goggles. Your protection. Your serenity. As you went about your trials, Jungkook sat at the bench next to yours, typing away at his computer.

“What are you working on?” The silence was too loud. Things felt awkward with Jungkook. You knew you couldn’t tell him you hooked up with Jimin. Even though, in your eyes, you did the right thing. Your first time with Jimin was rushed. Unexpected. But so was he. In the most flawed way, he was somehow perfect. You knew he was scared of what he felt. Scared to question what he believed, but in that moment all he wanted was you and he was sure to let you know that. Second time was bliss. And you were so excited to go home to him. Excited for every amazing night to come. You wanted to tell Jungkook everything, but wasn’t sure he would appreciate knowing the intimate details of your love life.

“I’m finding your compatibility results”

You swerved, “What?” Kicking your chair so it rolled next to Jungkook’s. You scanned his screen, seeing him type in some code. “How?”

“I have my ways” He assured you, “I just want to get to the bottom of this, you deserve better”

“Jungkook, that might not be necessary anymore actually because…”

“Here!” Your attention redirected to his screen. He clicked on a file, opening a scanned proposal. Scrolling through, he finally found your name. “Y/n L/n, age, birthday, la da da” Humming, he searched the data for a clue.

“Well?” You tapped your fingers against the desk.

“Uh” Jungkook gulped, “Interesting.”

“What? What is it?”

Jungkook looked at you, almost as though he were debating what to say next. “Y/n, do you really love him?”

“We’re getting there” He raised his eyebrows, “I mean, we—are making progress”

Jungkook read between your words. Shutting his laptop, he sighed. “Nevermind”

“Jungkook—what the fuck did it say?”

“Jimin isn’t listed as your soulmate. You don’t have anyone listed”

Your throat felt dry. “What?”

“You were in the placebo cohort”

You stared at him. The placebo cohort. Meaning—what?

“I’m sorry, Y/n”

“No there’s some other explanation” You shook your head, “Jimin and I had a rough start but. He’s kind. Dedicated. He’s had a rough go of it—I don’t know his story but I can just tell. He’s insightful, and isn’t afraid to challenge me. He understands me too, even in this short time. He’s sweet. And he wants me just as bad as I want him”

“Do you even hear yourself right now?” Jungkook looked appalled, “You’re delusional, Y/n. He said he didn’t want you, explicitly. He’s lied to you many times,”

“The chip doesn’t alter our emotions, it only gives us the signal. I know what I feel Jungkook—it has to be him”

“Placebo cohort’s get the signal, but the compatibility test wasn’t actually run so it’s signaling that some random person you’re not actually compatible with is your soulmate. To see if the computability part actually matters, or if simply thinking someone is your soulmate is enough”

It couldn’t be. You felt nauseous, as though everything around you was spinning. Time and time again Jimin had told you to back off. That what you were feeling wasn’t real when you believed so strongly it was. Nothing about it made sense.

Suddenly Jimin’s flaws glared at you—he was in the resistance, fighting against the very peace you upheld. He was a violent person. He hung out with shady people in banned places. He broke rules which you followed no matter what. He smoked. He rode a motorcycle. He didn’t believe you were his soulmate—and you weren’t.

But you loved him.

And he, probably, loved you too.

Was the placebo effect real then? Did you fall in love just because you thought you were supposed to? If you never had the signal—never had the chip—would you have been able to look past your differences, and find what you did?

He had only just begun to believe. This would crush him.

“You have to tell him” Jungkook echoed your thoughts. You frowned, he was clearly deriving some joy from the fact that he was right about Jimin.

“Does this mean someone else out there is actually my soulmate? More compatible with me than Jimin?”

“Most likely” Jungkook confirmed, “Only way to know is to reset your chip. And only Dr. Kim himself can do that”

You turned to your calendar. The conference was only a few days away. What were you supposed to tell Jimin in the meanwhile? Should you avoid seeing him? Should you ignore this and just love him anyway?

“I-I gotta go” You scrambled to gather your things. Rushing to take a bus home, you barged into your apartment. Eyes wide as you noticed the entire place had been cleaned up. Nose twitching to the scent of something cooking—something delicious.

Jimin smiled warmly upon seeing you. You had left before he woke up, leaving him sound asleep with a kiss on the cheek.  

“Morning doctor” He continued to go about his cooking. He looked adorable, sleepy hair and shirtless, cracking eggs into a pan. You wanted to cover him with kisses, “Hope you don’t mind, just thought I’d whip up some food. Aren’t you supposed to be at the lab?”

“I, yeah I uh”

“Oh taste this” Jimin took a spoon of some sauce he had made and quickly made his way over to you. Slipping the spoon in your mouth, your eyes widened as flavor burst in your mouth.

“Jimin” You mumbled as he took the spoon out, stealing a quick kiss. “Fuck that’s so spicy Jimin”

“Not your thing, doctor?” He pouted, “Damn, I love spicy food”

Your heart dropped. He’s not your soulmate. You’re not compatible.

He seemed to notice your unusual behavior.

“Hey baby, it’s okay. It’s just food preferences, not the end of the world”

“Jimin, we’re” You cleared your throat. “We’re not—”

“Oh, are you upset that I’m still here? Don’t worry I have class in the afternoon, I’ll be out of your way” Grabbing your hands he pulled you into a hug. Swaying your body left to right, you wanted to melt.

“Jimin” Your voice was breaking. Tears welling in your eyes.

“I know we don’t have everything figured out baby” He hummed against you. Pressing his lips on top of your head, “But for once, I think, I believe it’ll work out”

You broke.

Shattered into tears. You couldn’t possibly do this to him, not after everything you already put him through. How the hell were you supposed to tell the man you’d chased relentlessly that you weren’t supposed to be together?

“Baby,” Jimin held your face in his hands, searching with concern “Y/n, what’s wrong?”

You couldn’t breathe. Sobs blocking your air. Chest tight.

“Hey, easy baby” Jimin held your hand, guiding you to sit down on your bed. He knelt down by your side. Pressing his lips onto your knuckles. Across your wrist.

The odds were unlikely. But there was a slim chance that despite being a placebo match, he may actually still somehow be compatible with you. He may still be your real soulmate. You should wait until you knew for sure. 

“I’m okay, sorry I just, got emotional” You wiped your tears away, chuckling. Jimin didn’t look like he quite believed you, but decided not to push it.

“Don’t apologize, doctor” He kissed your knee, “As long as you’re okay”

“Jimin”

“Yeah baby?”

“No matter what happens,” You sniffled, “I believe in you”

Jimin chuckled, stroking your face, “Babe what has gotten into you? Did Jungkook say something—I can beat that fucker to a pulp if he did, I am a vigilante after all”

You smiled. Because the man in front of you was dazzling. Despite the fights. Despite your differences. If this wasn’t true love, you weren’t sure you wanted whatever that was. This was all you needed. He was all you needed.

Which is why you owed it to him to be honest.

“We’re not actually soulmates”

Jimin simply blinked.

“It was a placebo, where the chip signals but we aren’t actually compatible. So the basis for everything we felt—or everything we think we feel, was a lie”

Silence. So haunting and so obscenely loud, you weren’t sure you’d survive it.

series masterlist | part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

a/n: HOPE YOU ENJOYED <3 i tried lmao, but plsssssss let me know what you think ive never written anything like this and wanna know what your reactions are!!! ask questions, give me your theories, any and all of it! <3 have a wonderful day cuties~

#bts smut #bts fics #bts fanfic #jimin fic #jungkook fic #jimin x reader #jungkook x reader #park jimin x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jimin smut #park jimin smut #jimin x reader smut #jimin fanfic #bts series #bts angst #bts romance #jimin angst #bts soulmate au #jimin fics #bts jimin fics #jungkook fics #namjoon x reader #namjoon fic #jimin ff #jungkook ff #namjoon ff #jimin fic recs #bts fic rec #bts fic

[brothebro]

Any dp/dc fic recs?

of course! Honestly, i love so many of them and I'll try to include as many as i can in my list here! The Undead Lockpicking series by Milaley: In which Danny has a lockpicking youtube channel and he lockpicks the Watchtower. Hilarious, excellent 10/10

The Bat Trap by Threee: Honestly a good ol twin switcheroo with many funny moments but also a lot of delicious angst! (a Damian & Danny twins au) Just, chef's kiss!

GLXY:PSSNGR by socraticat: Danny takes the place of his alternate universe self who lives with vlad in Gotham after vlad killed his parents. Muchas angst, lots of worldbuilding and fantastic action!

A second life by Die_Erlkonigin6083:Kid Danny who has memories from a past life and currently is Dick Grayson's clone baby (and a bunch of others but mostly Dick's) Adorable 100/10 recommend>

lex luthor's ascent from supervillainy to fatherhood by halfagone (milkywxy): Epic. Dad!Lex and and dimensional travel son!Danny. Sweet and super well-executed Cass/Danny. 10/10 i need to catch up with the latest chappies but it's so freaking good I am aaaaaa

Rooftop Express by EmeraldsAndAmethyst: Danny/Jason. Awesome af. Crime lord Jason ftw! Danny is a (supernatural)delivery boy and professional enigma in Gotham

Our Empty Graves by suomifae: Hazmat Suit, no one knows au! Danny/Jason in which Danny finds himself helping out in Jason's gang. Very cool story building, ideas and execution. Im literally screaming in every chapter. so so good!

bloodlines by halfagone (milkywxy): Danny is Diana's and Bruce's son. He of course doesn't know that. There's a prophesy involved that says Danny will end the world, Diana finds out accidentally about it and finds out she has a son (memory wipe shenanigans) and GOSH. There's so much awesome stuff happening and it's a pleasure to see them piece together the facts. 10/10 Diana rocks

Summons by DizzlyPuzzled: Ghost king Danny in which because he's underage his father gets summoned in his stead. Bruce would very much like to know why he keeps getting yote through summoning circles. Just the right amount of funny, family fluff and angst.

If You Give a Bat a Burger by Cielle_Noire: BOI I HAVE NO WORDS. the plot in this is thiccc and juicy and delicious and the mystery is the cherry on top! Danny lives in Gotham, does some ghostly sigil stuff around to protect Gothamites from bad ghosts, it backfires, we don't know why. Red duck candles are involved. The Batkids are chaos. and im here eating popcorn because it's all super entertaining to watch unfold. 100/10 jessica's duck candle

Friendly neighborhood vigilante by Elizabehta_Beilschmidt: Jazz/Jason THE FIC. honestly one of the best Anger Management fics i've ever read. Love the way Communication between partners is portrayed here and how they overcome the hurdles despite the shitshow that is both their lives (affectionate). 10/10 would read again

Danny Fenton: Dead and Loving It by HyperKid: You need an ao3 account for this one, go go go go make one because it's super worth it! Jason/Danny. They meet at the graveyard, your honour! They actively mess with Bruce and the rest of the Batkids! Gala Shenanigans! What else can i say? Go read!

Worm Off the String by TourettesDog: I am licherally dying of laughter. Peak comedy. Danny/Tim ft little baby man Danny who Tim thinks is Danny's weird af pet. Honestly, so GOOD. 100/10 comedy gold.

Press Heart to Subscribe by Die_Erlkonigin6083: A Danny/Damian fic in which Danny is a streamer and Damian watches his stream. Super cute, well executed, 100/10 sweetness scale

Imprint by Hashtag_DriveBy: Babes i dunno what to tell you. I've done fanart of this fic. De-aged baby Danny and DadHood. Human-ish Fright Knight and Excellent friend Roy. Guys seriously. SO SO SO SO GOOD. 100/10 I wanna see the kid reveal to the batfam and am vibrating out of existence imagining scenarios. - There are more but I can't possibly list them all in one go, I'll make another fic rec list later 💙

#dpxdc #dcxdp #fic recs #bro's asks

[explicitred]

I like to make a request about baby male y/n. The chaos it will have imagine them panicking when baby y/n suddenly cries 😂

I'M A BABY NOW???

Genshin Impact x Male Reader

note: It's been a while since I've written a post or fanfic that includes headcanons primarily. Who should I write for headcanons?

Suddenly turning into a baby, the Teyvat world feels responsible to care for you no matter who they are (not like they didn't in the first place)

Male Y/N: ...

Everyone: ...

POOF

Baby Male Y/N: cries

Teyvat: panicks

Reporter: Hello, it's a sunny day with clear weather. We have breaking news of a full war between all 7 nations, with a baby crying being the cause. Apparently, all nations are fighting over who can quell the baby, and who can love them more.

Here's a "story" or more of a fanfic if you're interested lol:

-It was a lovely morning in Mondstadt. The flowers were blooming, people were singing, and many drank to their content in the taverns (Diona would like to have a word with you).

-However, what was about to happen in Dragonspine was another story.

(In Albedo's Dragonspine lab)

Albedo: Please drink this, Y/N.

Y/N: What.

Albedo: I assure you, nothing bad will come after drinking this potion. I'll also compensate you and treat you to dinner.

Y/N: ...

You take the potion from his hand and drink it, tasting the bitter liquid.

(Top 10 worst mistakes of my life lol

okay but was the dinner worth it though?)

Y/N: Uhhh, I don't feel so good Albedo.

Albedo: (Oops.)

POOF

A white gas suddenly engulfs your figure, making a comical "poof" sound.

Oh. Why do I have such short arms? And why is Albedo so tall now?

Albedo looked down on you, eyes twinkling out of your cuteness.

(Angel's Share, 6:21AM)

Diluc sighed as he saw Kaeya cuddling you ferociously.

Kaeya grinned mischievously as he stared at Diluc, "No need to be so jealous Diluc, Y/N's so cute as a baby I can't help cuddling them!"

Diluc deadpanned, "You cling to their older version's arm and cuddle them. And you also say the same thing that you can't help cuddling them, to their older self too."

Of course, Diluc wouldn't admit it to Kaeya, but he too wanted to cuddle your baby self too.

(Angel's Share, 10:28AM)

'I'm so bored,' You thought, watching the citizens of Mondstadt drink wine, laughing and chatting with one another up above, a level higher than them.

'Who the heck leaves a baby in a tavern unsupervised-'

(Mondstadt's Plaza, 12AM)

A bard with black and green hair in braids sang to his content, receiving applause from his audience who watched eagerly.

"Look Y/N! I got a lot of mora today!" Venti's hands, full of mora, were shoved towards you.

"Ehe~ I don't know if you understand me since you're now a baby, but when you're back to your older self, let's go on a secret date~! I worked hard to get all this mora for us, you know?" The bard grinned, his eyes sparkling in anticipation.

You nodded, pinching his cheeks.

Venti's smile widened, as he giggled and covered his mouth with his hand (got him giggling, blushing, kicking his feet, and twirling his hair like a school girl who has a crush LMAO), as mora clattered to the ground without the support of one of his hands.

(Angel's Share, 3:09PM)

The tavern was quiet for once. The silence was expected as the tavern was closed.

A loud cry erupted from you out of nowhere.

You didn't know how to stop your wailing, or why crying suddenly came out of you.

For some reason, even people all the way from Sumeru and Inazuma felt panicked at your crying, without even knowing you were.

The door to the tavern suddenly got kicked down, as Fatui Harbingers swarmed in.

A ginger-haired man grabbed you gently but hurriedly, rushing out of the tavern.

You propped your head on his shoulder, seeing Diluc giving "retribution" to the Fatui.

(Liyue, 4PM)

'At least they give me good food, lol'

Arlecchino entered the tent, immediately kneeling, presenting more food for you.

"Lord Y/N, I bring you more delicacies to enjoy. I hope it is to your liking."

yum.

(Liyue, 5PM)

Pantalone's face remained happy, as he counted his mora on the table.

"When we heard you got turned into a baby and were in Mondstadt, all the Fatui immediately rushed to Mondstadt." He spoke, patting your head.

'Oh. No wonder the amount of Fatui outside the tent is like 1M+. 😐😶’

(Liyue, 6PM)

Childe smiled as he glanced at you, continuing to try and entertain you with his hydro vision.

The ginger then looked back at his fishing rod, feeling a pull.

Tartaglia quickly pulled the fish towards him, the fish suddenly hitting him in the face from the speed.

You made a smug face at him, totally predicting what was going to happen. (don't ask, we're just smart like that lol)

(The Border of Liyue to Mondstadt, 7PM)

You frowned as the figure who held you walked away from the Fatui Harbingers, bringing you back to Mondstadt.

'Dang, I should've ate more.'

(Dawn Winery, 11PM)

Diluc walked into his bedroom, his hair in a high ponytail, carrying you.

He then tugged at the hair tie holding his hair, letting his hair down.

Slowly, he put you onto the bed and climbed into the covers, his hand reaching for you.

Silence, replaced by heartbeats, could be heard as you were pressed to his chest.

Slowly, your eyes closed as a dream invaded your mind.

note: I kinda forgot to add the crying lol

so the crying is a bit out of place (in the story), oops

#explictred #genshin impact #genshin imagines #male reader #diluc x y/n #diluc ragnvindr #diluc genshin impact #genshin impact diluc #diluc x you #diluc x male reader #genshin diluc x reader #diluc ragnivindr x reader #kaeya x male reader #genshin impact kaeya #kaeya x you #kaeya genshin x reader #kaeya x reader #albedo x male reader #albedo x reader #albedo x y/n #genshin albedo x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact x male reader #childe #arlecchino #fatui harbingers x reader #fatui x reader #childe x reader #childe x male reader

[iridiss]

Returning to an old friend, my Cult of the Lamb x Night in the Woods crossover AU to expand on the concept of the relationships between the Bishops and their Witnesses. And also to finally give these characters proper designs! Under the cut is a helluva lot of writing elaborating on these 4’s history with their respective Bishops and their designs.

I’ve played around with the ideas of either having the Witnesses be anthropomorphic in their Eldritch Forms, matching the Follower designs and giving them the same level of autonomy as their minds possess, or to make them more beast-like, closer resembling Leshy/Heket/Shamura’s Eldritch Forms in their wildness, and closer resembling the animals they are. But in the end, I could tell that some characters, like Angus and Beatrice, would be better off beast-like, like a giant hulking bear made of trees and foliage and flowers that tries to crush you, or a crocodilian, Lovecraftian deep-sea “sea monster” that tries to snap you up from the watery depths, additionally as a small nod to the giant animals in Mae’s dreams (the bear and the crocodile.) But characters like Greggory and Lori especially would be more on the slightly anthropomorphic side in their Eldritch forms, with Gregg resembling a large and bloodied hound, and Lori being a mouse with too many eyes and too many slithering tails (as an additional reference to the Rat King or something Eldritch). Lori is still small, even smaller than Mae, but armors herself with a coat of spiders, who are a fundamental part of her attacking style. We’ve got an ancient Forest Lord, a brown bear that’s become one with the trees, a Bloodhound, a Lovecraftian sea monster from the dark Hadal Depths, and a rat that’s become one with the spiders in the attic.

As for their history with their Bishops, let me tell you a story of 4 parts.

——

The Gods were never kind to Angus.

Leshy’s rule was one of chaos, and Angus must’ve been the most orderly and logical person in the entire cult. Leshy believed in raw strength alone, and as a big brown bear, Angus guesses he had potential enough to be “worthy.” What a joke that was. He was the pawn of a child, breaking whatever Leshy threw a fit over. Being an incredibly prideful leader, Leshy made his own rule that none of his Witnesses could see better than him after Narinder’s betrayal robbed him of his eyes. So per Old Faith law, Angus’s sight was removed, completely. He learned to adapt to the viciousness of the wilderness, relying on his other senses to survive and keep himself in Leshy’s good graces. He grew more at home in the woods than he’d ever been before, he memorized how to make flower crowns and weave crafts out of grass. Over the decades, moss grew amongst his fur and dark branches from his head, with Camellia flowers woven into his fur. He may have been afraid of Leshy at first, when he was younger, but now he had grown to be nothing but tired. This was the way things were, this was the irrefutable demand of the universe and the beings that ruled his every breath. He was nothing more than a measly ant. There was no point in fighting it, when Leshy could strike him dead at a moments notice. “This is the way it must be,” he would say to his victims before their inevitable execution, “there is no other option.”

And then another option came in guns blazing, screaming and mowing down the Old Faith like a hurricane on acid. Almost overnight, Leshy was dead, Angus had been beaten, stripped of his power, and thrown into someplace new. Everything had changed.

At first this was every drop worth freaking out over, but…here, the night was serene, the mortals happy and oblivious of any harm, all the screaming had gone away. It was so quiet here.

The truth is, Angus was a gentle giant who’d much rather study the stars than go on bloody crusades. Mae’s new way took some getting used to, but it was worth it. He was cautious at first, not exactly cynical, but he would have been unsurprised the moment “a catch” manifested. He was slow to adjust, having lived his whole life still in one place. But in time, he realized the depths of the scars he bore from Leshy’s destructive rule, everything Leshy had done to him and forced him to do when all he cared for was soft flower petals and damp grass after summer rain. He had his quiet place now. He was finally free.

Helping him get through it, and understanding in his own unique way, was this little obnoxious coyote that Angus…vaguely remembered to be Heket’s Witness? He seemed sweet, sincere, fuzzy, a bit loud, but he understood. Maybe he’d be better off staying here for a while, with Mae, Gregg, all these happy little mortals, and whoever else comes along.

Greggory Lee had a purely militaristic bond with his General, the Goddess Heket. He was her best soldier, her hunting dog. He tracked down the heretics and runaways, and once he found them, he put an end to them, just as Heket commanded. Like a bloodhound to a rabbit, he was loyal. Except, Gregg will always be Gregg, so whenever he was under the impression that Heket was busy or not specifically watching him, he would go to town with whatever chaotic fun he wanted to have that day, consequences be damned. If she was all shout-y serious military business, then he was a wildfire let loose the second her grip loosened. And to a degree he was never fully aware of, his wild antics supported her empire with the sheer fear they instilled on the mortal civilians. At any time, War’s bloodhound could come raging through the village, pillaging whatever he thought was shiny or cool, blowing up whatever was combustible, setting fire to huts and ignorantly letting it spread, and if you opposed the Witness of War himself, you might just get eaten. The chaos was humbling. Gregg was never fully aware of the extent of the damage he caused, it was all good fun for him. That was the job, that was what he was made for, fun. He never quite saw their faces, just ran in, had a good laugh, and left. He was so bored, he might as well do something with his time.

It took a pretty extreme event in order to force him to see the full picture. His first ever doubts started to sink in during the great sheep extinction. The Old Faith had received a prophecy from Shamura: Death was coming. Their only hope to survive would be to kill every last sheep and ram on the continent. Only thing is, there was no way to make this not personal. To track down every last one, to get in their face, make eye contact, see their final moments, hear the screams up-close, feel the bodies go limp in the vulnerable snare of your own bloodied teeth. Becoming the very real version of a child’s worst nightmare, the bogey monster out to get them, was unavoidable. Gregg was…never quite the same, after that.

He was the first to fully and openly accept the death of the Old Faith, immediately embracing the new rule of—well, not exactly The One Who Waits, but Mae was pretty cool. He liked her. As a follower, Gregg is still a bit disaster-prone in the commune, occasionally setting things on fire on accident, but it always sends him into a panic that promptly cleans up whatever mess he makes. He’s a bit of a handful, but he’s incredibly loyal to Mae. He’s doing everything he can to be a good person now.

He had no bond with his Bishop. The only connection he had to the Old Faith was one he’d deeply regret for the rest of his life. Mae on the other hand, all she ever asked of him was to live happily and peacefully in a commune, she never asked him to massacre thousands of innocent souls for something as petty as a rule, or a God’s ego. Death to the Old Faith, he says. Why should he care?

Out of every Witness, Beatrice would have been with her God the longest. Her memories of a mortal childhood had grown fuzzy and distant. Beatrice devoted her whole life and future to Kallamar, giving up everything she had just for him. To her, devotion wasn’t something you did out of joy and love and reverence for your God, devotion was knowing how to survive. This was the way of life, and she would see to it that every last order was followed through with shining marks and perfection. And wherever Kallamar’s cowardice slacked, she would pick up the weight, she would carry his entire Kingdom on her two shoulders alone. This was survival, this was life, this was truth, this was wisdom, this was responsibility, this was reaching the top and staying the best of the best, the Queen of fear and order dictating the helm of an entire Empire crushed under her foot. When this was the brutal truth of reality and life, why would you waste time thinking about a happy merry-go-rainbows imaginary life, when you should be doing your job? She needed this. This was everything.

And then the Gods began to fall. Leshy had died. The ball had dropped. She didn’t know it was possible for a God to die, but sure, Leshy was of the weaker kingdoms. She should have seen it coming a mile away that the youngest runt of the Gods would eventually be snuffed out. But Mae kept going, and then Heket fell. The Goddess of War and Wrath, defeated.

Kallamar’s fears grew worse. The target fell on his back next, and Beatrice knew that sniveling coward couldn’t take the blow. She prepared herself to fight, her time had come, it was her throne to take. She was ready, but for some reason, she was trembling.

And then Kallamar was killed. The other shoe dropped.

Everything that Beatrice had been repressing for decades, maybe even centuries, came back to hit her in the face with a baseball bat. Mae had destroyed everything, and now the responsibility of bringing back the Old Faith and killing an unstoppable force had fallen on her shoulders, with everything else. The Land of the Old Faith was in crumbling disarray, and she desperately tried to fix it and put it back together in the 42 hours (or less) she had left to live. This was nothing more than a deranged little child, a single cat. She could beat her. She could fix it, she could fix everything—

She lost.

Something Beatrice was only able to realize after every last drop of responsibility withered away was just how exhausted she was. She was worn thin, hanging by a string that was tearing. When that string was finally cut, she could freefall, right into the comfort of a safe little idyllic, bright and merry, imaginary commune.

“What the fuck.” Was the first thing she said when she saw it.

You couldn’t just get rid of the Old Faith, you couldn’t just rewrite all of reality itself. Mae was only one woman, how could she possibly have stopped all this? But she did, and she had the insanity to keep going. What the absolute fuck. And worse yet, Mae had spared her life! She had the audacity to kill her captor and “set her free,” she had the audacity to break everything she’d ever known, thinking you could just let go?! This was unheard of!

But then again, Bea hadn’t taken a nap in decades. Actually, she wasn’t sure if she’d ever slept in the past century. She hadn’t ever experienced the peace and fun of dreaming. And now she had a schedule entirely of free time, whether she liked it or not. Beatrice…took a very long time to warm up to Mae. And it took even longer for the shock to fade, to stop feeling weird about this new, free place she was put in. Before Mae, she was overworked, slowly losing herself down the rabbit hole leading to a very dark place. And as time went on, she could finally see herself again, and as she looked at the other Witnesses playing in the grass and making gay little flower crowns, she realized what she could have become if she continued to silently, secretly fall apart. She…could be happy now. Maybe. She’d have to find out if that was even possible…

She also had to admit it was incredibly satisfying to see Narinder, the last God, doing janitorial work while she could sit back and sip on her pina colada made of Darkwood berries. If only she could have seen Kallamar finally do his job while she took a much-needed break.

Lori Meyers was a young, mortal mouse, always the outcast amongst her peers and village-mates. She preferred to keep to herself, hidden far away in the dark that was comfortable, that was predictable, that was beautiful. She found things like bugs, gore, guts, the night, horror—especially spiders, she loved spiders— she found them to be so cool, but for some reason, no one else did. And that made her the weird one. Growing up, all of these things that she was told by her peers deeply got to her, making her quick to become quite anxious before she’d ever share a cool looking bug with someone she liked, because it never turned out well. She wanted to be fine, isolated all by herself in her dimly-lit caves infested with spiders, earwigs and centipedes, she was the only person she ever needed—but even still, she always wanted to have someone to talk to. She would kill to have someone that would hear her talk about how centipedes and millipedes have these super epic pores that shoot out hydrogen cyanide gas that poisons their prey- or- or how cool and exceptional it is that jumping spiders have the brain power to effectively use the scientific method by constantly studying their environment and learning from their mistakes!

And like a miracle of the Gods, she did find someone.

Shamura and Lori likely had the most positive relationship out of all the Bishops and their Witnesses. Lori was scared of them at first—and that never truly goes away, when you’re dealing with a mighty Deity of the Old Faith. But when she spoke, they listened, and in response, they showed her new things to study. When she posed curiosity in unknown species of insect and creature, they would lift her up into the treetops with their colossal, claw-like legs and show her the truth. Shamura cultivated her mind, gave her all the resources and books she needed to learn and grow and become the true scholar her peers could never be. She learned fast, she had a quick wit, and a love for learning all that Shamura’s realm shined best in, and thus she quickly seated herself, obliviously, as the best heir to their throne.

An apprentice to follow in their shadow, a student for only the greatest of minds. The only thing is, she was so young…some way or another, she would have to grow up into a monster. A killer, an executioner, a judge. That would be where the doubt set in for Lori. She only wanted to learn, she never wanted things to come to this, but when not only your God but your closest friend gives you an order…

Lori was devastated with Shamura’s defeat. Her only ally was dead, she was alone again, and to make everything worse, she was the very last line of defense meant to stop Narinder from taking over the world. On one hand, she felt very small, and still very much a child, but on the other hand, she was full of rage and covered in millions of tiny spiders that could feel her grief as much as she. She still ended up losing, reluctantly succumbing to The Witness of Death and becoming a follower. She clung the most to Beatrice in the cult, as the best person who could understand her, but also as someone who tolerated her ramblings. It took her a while to warm up to Mae, and to fully understand the necessity of Shamura’s death. That would come with time and years of gradual reflection as she grew up in Mae’s cult.

The lesson that Lori would teach Mae about the Gods would be two things, one directly from Lori, and one indirectly from her. One would be how much Lori would challenge her faith in TOWW without ever truly dissenting, acting as a mirror for what TOWW’s horrors might look like. The other would be Mae looking at how Shamura kidnapped this child, isolated her from her family and parents, and raised her to be a murderer against her will, and how much indoctrination and manipulation goes into a cult just to make someone still fully believe in their leader even well after they’ve been seriously hurt by them. Lori was a more complicated case than Angus or even Gregg, but she still had her scars. And if Lori had been tricked by the Gods, had Mae been tricked as well? To what degree did TOWW suffer the same flaws as his siblings, to what degree was Mae a gullible child in the hands of a master manipulator, to what degree was this right? Was serving these Gods even worth it? What if she only did what she wanted? What if she just wanted to be happy? What if she was like all four witnesses before her, what if she threw her bat away and rejected this Old God’s offer? Sure, she was small, sure, she was an insect screaming against a mountain, but damn it, they only wanted to be happy. Mae, Angus, Gregg, Beatrice, Lori, all of them.

But this time, she could do something about it. She was the God-Killer. She could make it whatever she wanted, and Narinder would be a fool if He thought she wasn’t going down without a fight.

#COTL x NITW crossover AU #cult of the lamb #night in the woods #writing #story #fanfic #cult of the lamb x night in the woods crossover au #cotl shamura #cotl Heket #cotl Leshy #cotl Kallamar #NITW gregg #NITW angus #NITW mae #nitw bea #NITW Beatrice #Greggory Lee #angus delaney #beatrice santello #Lori meyers #nitw lori #cotl old faith #art #digital art #artwork #artists on tumblr #character design #sketch #tw spiders #arachnophobia