#Dread String of Fate: writing | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yxstxrdrxxm · 5 months

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SYNOPSIS: The wanderer never knew what it feels to finally have a forever home till he met you.

TW/S: Yandere behavior/tendencies, major character death/s, Wan finally learns something but its not the way you'd expect, hurt/no comfort, delusional thinking/mindset, denial is a river in Egypt and he is drowning in it, creative/abstract rep. of Wan's story + traveler! reader is more platonic than a romantic interest with him as a yandere.

NOTE: After college kicked my ass, I am finally back to writing fics. I'm not going to open requests just yet because my schedule is a little (read: very) wack. Also, I'm not used to writing Wanderer's personality/character so forgive me for any errors in advance. I also wanted to try my hand on writing platonic Wanderer, so I hope this is up to everyone's tastes (even if I wanted to NOT make him a platonic Wan and more like unrequited lol).

Wanderer was not a man that can be easily tamed or found.

No one knows how a man like himself can coexist in the world, but to some that knew him, they can summarize it to him being alive to spite the archons known to man. To others, though, it was more of fate playing with his already torn heart.

But to Wanderer himself? His answer is simple.

He's learned the horrors of Teyvat in the worst time possible.

He never held any fondness of those that toyed with his heart, and even more of how he felt with his thirst of bloodlust and anger. He recalled how his 'Mother' had left him— cutting the strings connecting him to her, and letting him suffer the effects without her guidance.

He remembered how his 'home' was her, and how he was simply banished from it. He was too fragile, thus, he never deserved her care; that was what he would tell himself every night, when his sleep is disrupted from the nightmares that plagued him.

In the second time he had a 'home', it was with Niwa and the clan. He considered it his forever home, for those who took him in treated him like he deserved it. He learned how things worked back then, and he understood just how nice it was to have people care.

He learned his second emotion after fear, the first he learned from his mother.

He learned satisfaction.

But things will never last, not when his second home had been ruined by Dottore. He could only watch as the chaos unfolded, with many of his companions dying. It was when he fled, seeking refuge by himself— for he thought that it was because of him that their lives had all been snuffed away.

The fear gnawed at him, its claws sinking into the puppet's fragile psyche and conscience. He found himself having worse nightmares after such an event, plagued with it to the point that he can hardly sleep a wink.

He was a puppet, so sleep wasn't really essential for him, just like breathing. But to him, it was his only comfort.

His solace to the cruel world.

His third home had been with the sickly child. He had never learned from his lesson with Niwa, but it didn't mean he gave up on hope back then. And with such a child that needed his attention, he vowed to protect him with his life if need be.

He still felt that comfort when he was with Niwa back then, but since it was with the kid, he dreaded losing him. He's lost so much, and he didn't want to think about losing the last person he cared for so soon.

Alas, fate was a cruel mistress. She did not spare him a glance, just like his Mother, for when he returned after getting those lavender melons in one winter night...

... The puppet wept at the sight of his lost companion, who died by the sickness.

He never recovered. But maybe it was a good thing, for he can no longer blame it on someone else but himself, or the circumstances he was in.

Because of this, he began to descend to a cruel rabbit hole. All he could think was how much he failed to care and nurture the people he was with, and how cruel they could be to leave him when they took everything from his sleeved heart.

He had given everything to them, all that made the weeping puppet... Himself.

But it seems like fate never wanted him to have an easy life. No, not when he was 'born'.

Losing his third home, he learned the bitter taste of anger. He learned how it felt so hot, so bitter, and he needed to quell it. Immediately.

Although the flames consumed the weeping puppet, in his heart of void, he could feel the pieces being mend with stitches. Being sewn up bit by bit with hatred, he made it his mission to never show his broken heart to anyone.

If he will be left by his companions for being too 'open', then he shall close it. He needn't endure the pain of losing his own home till the day he died.

The fourth home he had was within Snezhnaya's borders, back when he was taken in by Zandik— alias Il Dottore.

He has grown to be cruel to those that tried to get to him, and for the Doctor, he found it intriguing. A puppet made by the Archon of Electro, and yet... He was casted aside like he was nothing. Was there a reason for his existence, if not to be a waste?

Zandik sought to find the answer to it, but he was amused with how the puppet tried to act like he was the boss of him. That a harbinger with a higher position must fear the one who is lower than him— how laughable.

The first few months, the Tsaritsa had kept him as a way to keep the grunts in line. She had a vision, but seeing just how useful the vengeful puppet could be, she sought to tie him in her strings.

But she forgot that the puppet she's taking care of is a feisty one. One that has seen the horrors of the world, and his heart had been torn and mended with hatred.

So, she decided to let Zandik take care of him— make him easier to mend and break, should he find it to be necessary. It was her personal assignment to the Doctor, and one that he took without a single moment of hesitation.

And so, the change began.

The small, single tap of the rock disturbed the tranquil waters, and lightning seem to follow suit. It traveled across the bodies of the liquid, much like how the pain traveled to his limbs, making him cry and grit his teeth in agony.

The sparks of one man can only be alive for so long till it was snuffed, but to Zandik, he saw him as an everlasting, combusting fire. One made of lightning and snow, and sculpted to be of her likeness but riddled with flaws.

The Tsaritsa wanted a puppet, and so did the Shogun. The difference, however, is that one exploits a puppet's weakness for their mistaken strength, while the other abandons them should they lack the qualities needed for perfection.

As more of those changes began to take effect on him, so did those ripples in the tranquil waves grew stronger. Each one of those ripples served as a scar, one that he couldn't forget so easily, no matter how much he tampered with Irminsul.

Each time he felt that lightning strike him, pain would follow him, electrifying him and letting him adapt to the strikes as normal. Every time frost would gnaw deeper into the trenches, all he can do is hold himself steady while it ate at him.

The man made of tranquil waters, of waves that disturb them when it became too intense, had nothing been more than dust. In its wake was the culmination of lightning, of sparks flying and encased in a thick sheet of snow.

When Zandik showed the puppet's state, she found it amusing... And essential. To her, he now became a tool, and not a liability.

His original venture to find himself had long since been forgotten, only leaving with the thirst to seek answers of the world and do the goals that the Tsaritsa wants him to do.

He became the 6th Harbinger that day, and she was the second to bestow him the name he took by heart.

Scaramouche.

As the identity of the Balladeer slips into his fingertips, he wore it like it was made for him. At the time, it felt like... It was. It fits him better than those light robes of Kunikuzushi, the name that was bestowed by Niwa and his clan.

...

The name that held far too bitter thoughts and memories, and that was tied to karma that followed him.

Abandoning the robes and donning the skin of a Fatuu, the wandering man found himself another home: one that he himself knew— in his heart, at least— that wasn't for him.

It was more of a stationary, but truly, he wasn't going to complain.

In his service of the Balladeer, he has done many crimes that can put him under the radar of the court: he had the pleasure to commit mass murder should he find it necessary with his lackeys, manipulate them to do his bidding, and even punish them with the use of his Delusion if he felt that they were going too far.

Back then, all he had as a goal was to learn the truth behind his mere existence. However, what he received at the end was not that, but of the world.

It was, surprisingly enough, when he met... You.

He never found you as pleasant to be around. Just like those he's seen, he saw you as a nuisance— a bumbling buffoon, seeking for answers that will never come your way.

Alas, for the sake of his mission, he must treat you with regard. So, he began to feed your head with lies and false kindness, but your companion, that astrologist, knew what he was up to when she saw him.

Was it because of how he acted? Or was it because of her power?

Still, whatever it could've been, it was pointless for him to dig into. He only saw you and your companions as annoying, and even your goals were nothing but a bitter, laughable reminder of his ignorance as Kunikuzushi.

Truly, you are quite ignorant of the truth. Too ignorant for him to tolerate for even a single moment!

Although, in some part of him, he found it bitter to see your face twist in expressions best regarded to be... Saddening. Perhaps of agony, to be more precise. In some sense, he still cared, but it was difficult to tell why.

... Why did he cared, still? For even a stranger he'd never see again?

...

He didn't knew.

But for the time being, he made it his only vow to never see you. He never wished to see you in his waking lifetime, especially if you were to stop him in his main goal.

To achieve Godhood.

Being a God made by humans is not easy. In actuality, he would much rather not have to go through such a thing again in hindsight.

Still, in the height of his trainwreck of a journey, he decided to give it a try. He wanted to achieve what he had been working for, especially now that he had wrecked his own 'home' that she gave him.

The home she made for him was too fragile, and the body he was in was enough. For the puppet, he wanted nothing more than to ruin those that thought of using him— and what better way than to achieve it by playing the role of God?

Still, in the midst of trying to reach the impossible, he had to sacrifice everything.

He had to endure the worst of the worst: the pain of ice hitting him and causing splinters to his case, the claps of thunder sending him high sparks of agony, and even the fluids used to taint his once peaceful waters, making him into a bomb set to explode should one mishandle him.

It was the Doctor who had managed to get to him and mold him to how he likes it. This, he is also responsible of fixing him to fit the role he wants— a God.

The ones that worked under him, the scribes, all worshipped and revered him. They fed him all the knowledge one needed and more, causing him to develop a complex as big as the world in its entirety.

With the knowledge in his mind and power from the Gnosis, he could confidently say that he reached what any foolish, puny mortal couldn't: he became the archon of the nation of knowledge, snuffing out the two Archons's names and those that opposed him.

However, much like before, his heart remained the state that it was. Amidst the sudden surge of authority, it still felt empty. Hollow. Like a huge part of it is missing.

He thought the Gnosis will take care of that need, that it would be enough for him as he's got the means to an end. Whatever he desires, he will get it without much of a fuss.

... Right?

Well, he found out to be wrong. Very wrong.

To him, being a God isn't enough. He still had things he wanted to achieve as one, and he didn't like how some of them are impossible to attain.

Like removing an existing archon.

Though, maybe he shouldn't have his hopes up, especially when his time is limited when Buer entered the room with you.

Ah, right. He forgot about you— the traveler, who he met time and time again. First in the lands of freedom, then in the land of contracts, and even in the buildings of his first 'home'...

... And now you, who he contacted back when he was in his last stage to become a full fledged archon. One where he is prepared to commence another archon war among them.

Of course, you were not happy to see him. Buer must've told you what was going on, but he wasn't expecting to hear you cry out and try to reason with him.

...

How pathetic. Do you honestly think he'd listen? He'd rather have you killed by his own hands if you weren't so— so interesting to him.

And so the battle commenced.

You were the first to take the stand, and he noticed how quick you were to jump to conclusions. You spouted nonsense at how he couldn't do what he's doing right now, for (in your eyes), it is 'immoral' and 'killing a God to become one is impossible'.

Honestly, what do you even see to think of such a conclusion? He wondered if you ever truly saw the mask underneath their facades, with how you seem to defend the smallest immortal being without a single moment to think of her power.

Still, he couldn't help but humor you, so he let you do as you wished. He let you fight him even if it was pointless, thriving at the idea that you will wear yourself out by the end of it.

You'll lose your footing at some point with how pointless this battle is— that's something he's sure of.

However, as you two fought, he couldn't help but realize with how you two were two different people. Had you two met back then, back where he wasn't tainted by the sights of the world and retained his innocence... Would you two get along?

Would you ever see him the way you do now: with resentment, judgement, and maybe a hint of pity?

He didn't knew the answer to that. If anything, he could hardly know the answer to a possibility that wouldn't happen, and especially with the roads you two took that negated such a thing.

You took the road to the light— as blinding as it may be, you chose that for yourself to achieve your goals of searching for your kin.

He, however, took the road to the abyss— for the roads he took before forsook him, and he couldn't help but shut his eyes from the truth.

That was one thing that separated you both. And for him, it felt like a weight rested on his shoulders.

However, as you two fought for the right to take down the opposition, he could feel the weight rest on him. The longer that you two spent together, he could see flashes of his past memories—

—his time back then with his 'mother,

—the time he spent with Niwa and the clan,

—and even how he spent the rest of his few years with the kid.

Those memories were all but locked in the recesses of his heart, and for him, he couldn't help but recoil at each sight. It made him remember that he, too, is flawed.

It made him realize that he was, and always is, alone in his fight.

The last clang of metal hit steel, and for once, the unthinkable had happened.

He... Lost.

The body of his began to shut down, months and years spent on creating the perfect and ideal vessel laid nothing to waste. The battlefield had long been wasted and ruined, but he couldn't help but ignore it.

For his eyes rest upon you; the one who took him down, who made him remember who he was back then.

And the one aiding him to be rid of his 'heart'.

Looking back at that moment, he never understood your decision to let him go.

Did you knew what his past life had been? Or did you see him as a man that can still be salvaged, no matter the consequences it may bring?

Wanderer never understood that from you, and he knew that maybe, he never will.

Standing before your body before him, he could feel blood drip from his hands. You were too easy to use and manipulate sometimes, but maybe, just maybe... He had felt pity for you.

Was he rash to simply repeat his first mistake? Maybe. But then again, he has done much more atrocities than the world could ever remember.

You asked him what he saw home to be once, but what he answered was it being akin of a house of cards.

It is always meant to be taken down, no matter how strong it is.

Still, he couldn't help but sigh. He's learned so much from you, and yet all he gave you was pain. How pitiful of him, as he simply toyed with your hopes to have him change for the better.

Raising your head by the hair, his lips simply curved itself to a smile.

But maybe, just maybe, he could accept one last lesson from you. You helped him realize one thing, after all.

That he is able to grant you salvation, even when he is nothing but a sham.

Cradling your body, he let the touch of crimson taint the poisoned waters, his previous face and identity all but melted away by your touch. He was sick in the head, but you gave him a new skin to wear.

Yours will do, he thinks. So pretty yet so tainted because of him, one that he had no shame of using for his selfish desires.

He was a man undeserving of a place he called home. He's destined to be alone, especially due to his crimes that deserved it's death row.

But with you in his arms, even if you two were never lovers... He can wear your skin as his new identity. You did chose it for him, did you not?

It's only right for a 'friend' to honor one's memory by using their skin and blood, after all.

And Wanderer will do what it takes to honor your memory in the way he knew best.

"Even now, we're all alone. Just like what we're destined to be."

@.throw-letter-away | do not republish or repost my works anywhere | 2023

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yanderecrazysie · 3 months

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can you write a new part for sugawara's idealized scenario? i'm very curious about the 3rd part and i love your writing style. 💓🌸

Sure and thank you! I feel like this turned out pretty bad, but I did my best.

Requested on Tumblr, Quotev, and Wattpad- so many people wanted this LOL

Part 1: here

Part 2: here

Title: Idealized (Part 3)

Pairings: Sugawara Koushi x Reader

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, murder, Sugawara’s gone mad, hasn’t he?

Summary: Sugawara Koushi seems to be completely perfect: good grades, talented athlete, responsible, and a total sweetheart. But, if he’s so perfect, why does your string of fate, that red string that warns you of the most dangerous person in your life, lead right to him?

AU Note: Some people have a “String of Fate” that, instead of symbolizing love like in soulmate AUs, leads straight to the most dangerous person in your life when you’re close enough to them. The string is invisible to everyone EXCEPT the person that would be in danger. Not everyone in the world has a string of fate but those that do have no idea in what way they will be in danger.

idealized

/adjective/

regarded or represented as perfect or better than in reality.

Sugawara’s voice was sugar sweet. So sweet that you almost forgot that he was calling you from your mother’s phone.

“What happened to my mother?” You demanded.

You could hear the satisfied smile in his tone as he said, “You’re finally talking to me.”

“Please,” you begged, “what did you do to her?”

You prayed that she was okay, that Sugawara had merely swiped her phone. Something deep inside you knew that wasn’t the case.

“She’s safe. For now,” Sugawara said, “I didn’t mean to go to such drastic measures, I swear. But I couldn’t think of anything else to get your attention. You avoid me like I’ve got the plague. Why don’t you treat others like that? Why is it only me?” His voice raised more and more with each word until he was shouting into the phone, voice choked with emotion.

“The red string of fate,” you admitted, trembling from head to toe, “I saw it connected to you and I didn’t want anything to do with that.”

There was no harm in telling the truth now, especially if it calmed him down. Sugawara certainly had stopped yelling, a silence stretching on from his end as he mulled over your words.

“I guess fate can’t be avoided,” Sugawara mused, “After all, it’s all led to this moment, hasn’t it?”

You gulped audibly, your throat feeling as dry as the desert. “Please just let my mom go. I’ll do anything…”

“Anything?” Sugawara asked, a hint of eagerness slipping into his voice, setting you on edge. Dread seemed to press down on your shoulders, causing you to fall heavily on your bed, trembling from head to toe. This can’t be good.

But did you have a choice? Was there anything you wouldn’t do to get your mom back? No, of course not.

“Anything,” you confirmed softly.

“We’re going to make a trade,” Sugawara replied, “Her freedom for yours.”

You closed your eyes, sucking in a shaky breath. How had it come to this? The teacher’s pet, the popular, handsome volleyball player… how could Mr. Perfect be this cruel? How could he break so many laws just to get his crush to talk to him?

The situation reminded you of Beauty and the Beast. Like Belle, you’d be giving up your freedom for your parent’s. You resolved right then that you’d never, ever fall for the beast, like Belle did. Until the day you died, if it came to that, you would hate him with every inch of your soul.

You felt tears prick your eyes. Until the day I die? You didn’t want to think about that, but wasn’t that what you were promising to him? Or, at least, until he got bored of you. Would that be worse or better? I can’t tell.

“Where are we meeting?” You asked.

Sugawara’s voice trembled with unrestrained excitement from the knowledge that he had won, “My house. Tell the police or anyone else and your mother dies.” He told you the address- a house not too far from yours.

“Okay…” you agreed, tears slipping down your face. You wiped furiously at them, refusing to admit weakness despite losing to him. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t see you crying, you were still angry at yourself for being so helpless.

You pulled out a jacket and slipped on your shoes, looking at each room in your house as though you had never seen them before. Your heart felt heavy in your chest. Would you really never return?

The sound of your front door closing behind you seemed so final. You couldn’t bring yourself to hurry, as if you walked slow enough you would never have to face Sugawara. The cold air nipped at your nose and ears but, for once, you appreciated it. Who knew when you’d be allowed to go outside again?

You arrived at Sugawara’s house much too quickly. It was strange how such an ordinary looking house could be dripping with malice. You trudged up to the door, forcing yourself to knock. The door flung open and your tormenter peeked out at you, a smile spreading across his face, making him look so innocent that you could almost forget what he had done.

Then, the red string materialized, tightening around your finger, and you were jolted back to reality. You fought the urge to turn tail and run. This is for Mom.

Sugawara beckoned you inside. If your front door closing had sounded final, it was nothing compared to his door and the click of a lock. You fought back tears, overwhelmed by the reality you’d found yourself in.

You followed him down a staircase into a basement, heart sinking as you were met with what looked like a jail cell. Sugawara opened the cage and you knew what you had to do, walking shakily into the cell and taking a seat on the surprisingly soft bed inside. With a scrape against the floor and a creak, the door shut behind you, iron bars surrounding you on three sides. He pulled out a key and locked you inside.

“Now my mom,” you tried to force your voice to remain steady, “You promised you’d let her go.”

Sugawara smiled rather regretfully, “About that. She’s seen my face and knows what I planned to do.”

Your entire body froze, a chill running down your spine. “You promised! My freedom for hers!”

“Well, freedom can mean many things,” Sugawara reasoned, “Like freedom from life, the earth, etc.”

“Please, I’ll do anything! I won’t fight you or anything, just don’t hurt her!”

Sugawara reached a hand through the iron bars, reaching for you. You shrank back into the corner, just out of reach. He frowned in response and retracted his arm.

“I already have everything I want.” Sugawara said softly. He gave you a small wave as he exited the room, leaving you to cower in your cell, tears rolling down your cheeks and helpless sobs escaping your mouth.

For a few minutes, there was silence, except for your hiccups and whimpers. Then…

BANG.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere haikyuu #haikyuu!!#yandere one shot #one shot #yandere sugawara #sugawara koushi

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crookedteethed · 3 months

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RADIO appearance (1) | e.m & s.h

Pairing: Rockstar!EddieMunson x Radiohost Fem Reader x BandManager!SteveHarrington

Summary: You're seemingly going nowhere at your job at Studio 66. You finally get your big break when your boss meets a terrible fate. Given the opportunity to become Mental in the Morning's newest radio host, you embark on a never before experience when you fall into a love triangle between Corroded Coffins, Eddie Munson, and his manager, Steve Harrington, all while trying not to lose yourself to your sudden fame. What will you choose?

Warnings: Cursing, Misogyny, Love Triangle, Sexual harassment in the workplace, eventual smut, Drug and alcohol use, slowburn, mentions of blood, Character death

Authors note: Wanted to give writing on Tumblr a try. Let me know how you like the story and thanks for reading.💗💗 Word count: 2,463

RADIO appearance ⭑ materiel list

Divider credits- @cafekitsune

Circa’ 1991

Spike Van Dyke was an idiot.

He was the type to ask you for the time, even though he had a shiny metal Rolex banded around his wrist, just to purely get on your nerves. Spike was the type of person to play obnoxious clown honks and buzzers on his morning radio show as hungover parents rushed their children off to school in their minivans or Subarus. Spike also was the person to ask you if you were "Mental in the Morning?!" And if you weren't, you would get sprayed with silly string and get kicked in the tush.

Spike didn't like me; well, he acted like he didn't like me. Said I had the type of looks that made a freight train take a dirt road, per se, compared to Candace "Candi" Jones.

Here comes the sad part. My family says it's sad, but I like to think otherwise: After being told I wasn't good enough, I didn't quit. Anyone with an ounce of self-respect in their bones and dignity in their gut would quit after being told they weren't good enough, but I stayed. I've been Spike's humbled assistant for four years now—not like he needed one, though.

Despite being obnoxious and sometimes rude, Spike was a low-maintenance guy. A day's work for me is grabbing him bottled water after he's choking on a fly, getting into his mouth from gawking at Candace.

"Metal fucking sucks." The sound of a crowd booing and then a loud tuba-sounding "Womp womp womp" plays in the background—radio imaging.

Now where was I? Spike Van Dyke was—is—an idiot.

The big and bright “ON AIR” sign lit up my face as I watched from outside Studio 66.

“Now Spike, you aren’t saying that because Corroded Coffin is coming to studio 66 tomorrow, right?” Candice said, a shit-eating grin plastered on her lips. He only kept Candice as the co-host of Mental in the Morning because she once flashed him her big silicon Double D tits at a wet tank top contest he was hosting.

“Oh, that’s a load of bullshit, Candi. And you wanna know why?” “Why?” “You wanna know why that’s bullshit, Candi? Because I hadn’t even heard of crowded coffee—” “Corroded Coffin.” “Until you just brought them up seconds ago.” Spike shrugs, leaning his back in his seat and swinging his feet in his chair because they barely touch the ground.

“I don’t know, Spike, you have a reputation for making your guests mad. Remember when you called Madonna a sellout?”

“She never denied it.”

“And when you called Steven Tyler a creep?”

"That one's true and we all know it."

"Ok, so let me get this straight: are YOU, Spike Van Dyke, going to play nice tomorrow for the Corroded Coffin boys?"

Spike shrugs again. "Depends, Candi, why don't you play one of crowded coffee—" "Corroded Coffin." "Eh.. yeah, why don't you play one of their songs? I'll have my conclusion at the end of the break."

"Welp, you heard it folks, whatever Spike wants, he gets. Here's "Hellmouth" from Corroded Coffin's sophomore album "Mutilation, Sickness, and a Little Death." Make sure you all stay tuned after the break, and also don't forget to stay—"Candice points to Spike, and in his dreadful, languid voice, he says: "Mental in the Morning."

At a click of a button, the dark and muddy strings of Corroded Coffin's "Hellmouth" ring through the speakers of studio 66; by the time the long interlude is over, I only hear a snippet of Munson's throaty singing before Candice and Spike come out of the studio.

The "ON AIR" sign is now turned off, but it's only until the break is over. "That was a good take, guys." I softly say as Candice and Spike leave the studio.

Y'know, when I was five, I dressed up as a brick wall for Halloween--I'd thought it'd be funny. Who knew I'd still be in the same costume fifteen years later? Spike walks straight past me, like the wall I am.

Candice does pay mind to me, leaning beside the same wall as I, looking at the short and stout Spike Van Dyke going straight to his favorite intern--Bonnie, I think her name is--just to mess with her for his shits and giggles.

"Should I start making apology gift baskets now?" I ask her.

She asks. "Maybe he'll have a change of heart this time? You know, I've noticed he hasn't been staring at my breast as much lately. I think that's a sign for something."

"A sign for what?" Now it was my turn to tsk. "That he's finally gone through the lobotomy he so desperately needs?"

I look up at her, and she's laughing. Candice wasn't that much taller than me, but her hot pink stilettos made me look like Stuart Little standing beside her. I join in on the laughter, too. But the joyous moment is cut short when we hear an "eek!" from the intern and see Spike pinching up the ends of her frilly white skirt.

"Poor girl." Candice says. "One day he's going to mess with the wrong person." Candice mutters.

Black and green sludge starts swishing in my body, and I think I will be sick. I watched the intern's skin become extremely pallid, and her eyes turned a shade of fear. Any other time, her skin would be pretty porcelain, like an antique doll you'll find in an upscale market, and her eyes would shine the brightest green.

"I hate to say it, but it's kind of like a rite of passage for the girls of Studio 66 to get hounded by Spike, right?" I hear Candice say from afar; she sees I'm gone when she looks over.

And out of the emergency exit and down three flights of stairs I go, I find myself in front of studio 66, looking out at the crowded streets of New York City, and thinking of Bonnie, the girl with porcelain skin, and Candice, the 5'8 glamazon.

A "Rite of Passage" it was. It wasn't a shocker when Spike liked you; he shows it. He's done it to many women prior before he's done it to Candice, and now he's doing it to Bonnie. Bonnie was just an intern today, but she'll be Spike's new assistant tomorrow. Why hadn't Spike taken a liking to me? Well, according to him, I'm "too boring." I’m simply plain and simple—old, boring Y/N.

I know it's wrong, but how else should I feel? It's not like I wanted to get filled up by Spike; that's disgusting, but if that meant I get to do something at my job or move up a position, then so be it.

Fuck. How would I do that when Spike doesn't even look at me?

Bonnie was about to be promoted while I was off somewhere, filling out yet another job application. Maybe I'll apply to Coney Island. At least then, I'll have the joyous laughter of children or exciting screams from amusement parkgoers to drown my sorrows.

"You have an expressive face." A voice says beside me. I look up at the stranger; his fluffy-looking hair draws my attention away from his face. The warm stink of nicotine fills my nostrils, and I feel the hairs on my body prick the fabric of my clothes. When I relaxed my face, I realized how scrunched tight I had it.

"Jesus, what kind of deep shit are you in, kid?" He asks. He says "kid" as if he and I didn't look remotely close in age.

"You got another one of those?" I say, pointing to the cigarette hanging out the corner of his mouth. Without hesitation, he goes into his left boot, pulling out a pack of Camels. I pull out a cigarette--his last one. When I have the cigarette in my mouth, he whips a white lighter with its blazing flames.

"Thanks." I say, my voice almost muffled. I nearly gag from the nicotine as I smoke it.

Cigarettes sucked. They only looked cool as an accessory--accompanied by a cup of coffee and some old French novel. Other times, cigarettes look fantastic when they're used by guys who stare at you so intensely, waiting to hear what you have to say.

"Um--" I freeze; his eyes roll down my body before meeting my eyes again. "It's rude to stare," I say, nerves starting to leave my body as the nicotine seeps in.

"It's rude to leave people hanging." He snaps back. "What's gotten you so pressed?"

I huff, "Spike Van Dyke, that's what."

He hums. "With a name like that, how couldn't he? Did his mother even love him?" I let out a nervous chuckle, somewhat wary about talking to the stranger, but he gave me his last cigarette, which meant he was ok?

"We're in the same boat, y'know?" he says, playing with the cigarette between his fingers.

"He'd hit on your girlfriend or something?" I cock my eyebrow, and I feel a smile form on my lips. "Say he did hit on your girlfriend, and you're here to kick his ass; you wouldn't say anything if I let you in without a badge?"

"No, I'm not here to kick his ass." He breathily laughs. "Your funny." He says. I wasn't joking. I deadpan.

"I'm Steve. Steve Harrington." He introduces.

Why does the name seem so familiar? I squint my eyes at him.

"Y/n. Y/n Y/l/n."

"So, I take it you work here." he points his thump to the building. "At Studio 66?"

"Not for long; I'll be working at Coney Island soon. I could get you tickets, perhaps?

He laughs again, and for the second time, I wasn't joking.

"Yeah, my band--the band I'm managing--you've might've heard of them? Corroded Coffin? I'm here for them."

Something in my brain snaps.

"You're Corroded Coffin's manager." I state that's why his name was so familiar. "You're the one we talked to about the interview."

He nods. "Yep." he drags. "That's me."

"I didn't expect you to be so..."

Good-looking? The good-looking that would make you instantly popular--taking it back to my high school days. Most of the managers I've met in the past have been the Spike Van Dyke type, y'know, bald and plump with deceitful eyes and a deceitful chin and wandering hands.

"Preppy? Not the type to manage a band who sings about war, destruction, doom and misery?"

"Took the words right out of my mouth."

"I'm reminded of it every day." He says, now leaning on the cold brick wall, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his dark blue bomber jacket.

"Your interview isn't until tomorrow." I say.

"Yeah, but I'm here to talk to Spike, that guys an idiot."

As if that still needed to be established.

"I bet you won't say that to his face." I dare.

With a smirk on his lips and a sparkle in his eyes, he took me up on the challenge.

Spike took Steve's comment well, I think.

"Ok, so what do you want me to do?" Spike shrugged.

"All I'm saying is, Corroded Coffin won't do the interview if you're going to be a..."

Steve's eyes met mine. I look at him wide-eyed and boggled, sitting on the edge of my seat beside Spike's desk. Steve jitters a bit, switching all his weight from one foot to another.

"An asshole."

I would've preferred the word "dickhead" instead, but "asshole" is close enough.

"But "asshole" is my brand. If you or Corroded Coffin don't like it, I'm glad to not have you all on my show."

"Should I remind you that we were the ones to get a voicemail from you guys? You're the one that wants us here. My group will be damned if you think we're going to let you disrespect us." To convey his authority, Steve places both hands on his hips. A smirk creeps onto my lips.

Spike squints his eyes, gnawing his teeth. "Who sent you here?" He asks. "Was it that hotshot—what's his name? I forget." Spike snaps his fingers. "Munson."

Steve scoffs. "I'm here on the behalf of all of Corroded Coffin."

Spike rolls his eyes and says: "Y'know Munson has a "bad" reputation himself. I'd seen his little stunt he pulled with Rush the Radio a few weeks back."

As if it were him involved in the horrendous event, Steve mutters a "Jesus Christ" and runs his fingers through his bouncy hair.

"I mean, who gets mad like that over one little question? My poor guy Rush is still paying for the damages that little shithead caused."

It was Steve's turn to squint his eyes and gnaw at his teeth.

"You all should be grateful that another radio host wants to have the spawns of Satan on their show." Spike continues.

With a few nibbles of his fingertips and a long, harsh stare, Steve concluded:

"Let's agree to disagree. If you don't act like such an asshole, my guys won't either." Steve says.

"Harrington, I think we have a deal." I had a crawling suspicion that Spike had his fingers crossed behind his back.

Steve and Spike shook on it, thus the ending of their little spat. It was not climactic enough, but indeed, it was entertaining. Spike gets my name wrong when telling me to walk Steve out.

"Problem solved?" Steve says, seemingly trying to convince himself and me that "the problem" was resolved. When really, that was only the tip of the iceberg.

Steve gives me a piece of paper with his personal number on it; his fingertips touch mine in a subtle exchange. I feel a sting of heat that twinges my body; I blame the August searing heat. Steve says to call him if anything significant happens between now and tomorrow, though I highly doubt it.

I watched Steve walk down the pavement and turn the corner to 13th Street. I feel a small smile creep onto my lips, holding the piece of paper with his number on it close to my chest.

When I return to Studio 66, my smile fades when I watch everyone scatter around in a frenzy. My eyes follow the pattern of warm blood that puddles to my ankles. The trail of blood seems never-ending, but that myth is busted when my eyes land on a good as dead(?) Spike Van Dyke.

His eyes were stapled shut, followed by a few staples around his dome and neck. My eyes followed the body that hovered over him. Bonnie—the porcelain skin—intern, hovers over Spike's unconscious body, a stapler in her hand.

#Eddie munson x reader #Steve harrington x reader #love triangle #90s #stranger things #x reader #steddie fic #rockstar eddie munson #radio host #corroded coffin

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an-au-blog · 4 months

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I need to get this ball rolling and to write this au idea out anywhere so pllleeease indulge me and listen to me try to put a spin on Shuggy soulmate au.

Setting: a world in which soulmates are connected by a string of fate that shows only for a short second when two peoples hands touch, doesn’t even have to be romantical, but if you are connected to someone with that string it means your souls are interwoven in some way. Shanks and Buggy share such a string. In the beginning they both believed they were more along the lines of „platonic complete opposite soulmates who’s differences and conflicts drive each other to become their best selfs“ but after Laugh Tale they both realized that at least the „platonic“ part was complete Bull and they become a couple.

The inevitable happens. Rogers excecution, Buggy feeling betrayed by Shanks decision, breakup in the rain, but Shanks still holds out Buggy will come and join him again soon. Then one night Shanks wakes up with a feeling of absolute heart wrecking despair washing over him and at first he thinks he had another nightmare about Rogers execution, but then he realizes that he’s in physical pain, his heart is actually aching and a deep sadness envelopes him as he scream sobs and curls in on himself. Buggy has cut his string.

Years later. They meet again at Marineford and things proceed mostly normal. Shanks doesn’t hold a grudge against Buggy, doesn’t even mention it, doesn’t even confront Buggy about it, he still feels deeply for his soulmate and he never managed to cut his string, because he couldn’t bring himself to do it, but he knows Buggy has moved on. And Buggy is pissed as expected about Shanks being so nice and friendly and “Oh the map? You’re still angry about that?” And GODS he wishes Shanks would be at least a little bit pissed… and part of him is glad he isn’t.

… because thing is, Buggy didn’t cut his string either. Oh he tried alright, and it was as awful and painful as it was for Shanks, an immense physical pain combined with the worst sadness and loneliness he ever felt in his life and that’s saying something coming fresh of his father figures execution. But through the sobbing and heaving he suddenly realizes with dread that the string has reattached himself to him. He once again curses that damn fruit That bereft him not only of his ability to swim but also to cut of the person he never wants to be hurt by ever again in his life. But he can’t. But Shanks thinks he did. And the least he can do after hurting his soulmate this badly, doing the one thing that everyone tells you not to do another human being because the pain is so immense, is to never let Shanks know that he couldn’t cut it.

I'm not even joking when I say that literally half an hour before seeing this ask, I was thinking about red sting soulmates Shuggy omfg get iut of my head ahhagah

Anon imma name you just so whenever you write/post this pleaaaase send me the link! I'm naming you Meltan because anon, this melted me this is amazing :')

The thread hurts like cutting off a part of one's body. Some say it's even worse. Shanks had experienced that already, but it was fueled by the urge to protect. He lost his arm for Luffy and that was fine by him. He still feels bad that he regretted it for a split second because he thought that that was the hand that had Buggy's string on it. If he just prayed to anyone and anything that he never had to choose between the two.

Ever since they realized their bind was more than just platonic, the string felt a bit more lively. "Lively" probably wasn't the best word to call it, but it seemed somewhat vibrant. Shanks took pride in it and in the little time they had together before their breakup, he'd take any chance to touch Buggy and look at the thing that connected them for life. Even if they parted, he thought, they would still fate connecting them and pulling them together.

I'd like to think that Shanks knew, that Buggy's parts always came back to him. But he's under the assumption that Buggy's string isn't on him anymore, so it hurts even more because that would mean Buggy didn't feel their connection as a part of himself.

Shanks sometimes still felt the string but he thought that it was like a phantom limb syndrome. He had one arm less anyway, and he would still feel like it was there, but the string felt more tangible. He assumed it was because it was cut off more recently.

(Dare I improvise that- ) Buggy, when they meet again, started wearing long gloves and long sleeves again. He didn't want to risk Shanks knowing. One late night, Shanks gave him a big hug and for a millisecond their skin brushed. Buggy jumped back in a moment of shock. He felt it. And if he felt it, then Shanks also felt it. It was like a warmth after being in the cold for more than a decade. It felt like the first drops of water after wandering a desert for too long. Shanks maybe tries to tell him what he felt but Buggy denies everything and makes jokes of the sort of "Shanks are you drunk again?" "Haha, okay buddy, time to go to bed now" or just tires to make an excuse to leave. In any case, he rushes to shut the door behind himself because he knew he was going to crumple. He leans against the door and slides down, face in his hands, cursing himself for letting himself feel what he's been trying to stay absent for so so long...

Why did he need months of rehabilitation every time he saw Shanks again. Why did being sober hurt this much...

#AAAAAA anon/meltan I'm begging you please send me if you ever post this pleaaaaaase I'm crying #shuggy #shanks x buggy #buggy x shanks #soulmate au #answers #op

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icee133 · 1 month

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Hello! This is part 3 of my ongoing Marionette series. This part is a bit longer than the other 2 but I felt it was necessary given the scene and all. Hope you guys like this one too. Sorry for any writing errors 👻

If you would like to be added to taglist let me know!

The Marionette

Part One, Part Two, Part Three🤍

Word count for this part: 2029. Enjoy! 👻👻

Synapsis:

A new overlord has manifested in hell seemingly overnight. One that overpowered many if not all of the current overlords in all the right ways. Will this overlord use her powers for good to help the members of the hotel? Will she fall in love with a man and end up in a loving gentle relationship? Or will she get her heart broken and turn against them all, burning each bridge she meticulously made.

The Marionette is a heart wrenching fic with many turns you won't see coming. Stay tuned for each of the episodes as they are released.

¯⁠\⁠_⁠ʘ⁠‿⁠ʘ⁠_⁠/⁠¯¯⁠\⁠_⁠ʘ⁠‿⁠ʘ⁠_⁠/⁠¯¯⁠\⁠_⁠ʘ⁠‿⁠ʘ⁠_⁠/⁠¯¯⁠\⁠_⁠ʘ⁠‿⁠ʘ⁠_⁠/⁠¯¯⁠\⁠_⁠ʘ⁠‿⁠ʘ⁠_⁠/⁠¯

The loud knocking had startled the group a bit, but Charlie immediately shot out of her seat rushing to the door hoping this time it was the guests they were expecting. She took a deep breath as she placed her hand on the door handle then quickly swung the door open. She then realized she was face to face with one of the cat demons from earlier that afternoon. “Hello again darling, I’m Kai we met earlier during our unfortunate run in with some rather rude demons.” Kai said while smiling, holding out his hand. “Of course! I’m glad you guys could make it” Charlie said shaking his hand then stepping aside to allow the 3 cat demons inside. Once they had passed she spotted the red eyed overlord at the back of the group looking at her almost as if she thought this was a threat. Charlie simply gave her as genuine of a smile she could hoping that would sedate her wariness for the time being. She understood why the overlord wouldn’t trust being there after all she is the princess of hell and the hotel housed another overlord.

The marionette walked into the hotel allowing the princess to shut the door behind her. Ultimately sealing her fate that whatever happened here wouldn’t be seen by outsiders. The 3 boys walked towards the main area upon seeing the group of hotel demons sitting on the couches. Figuring this was probably the best area to walk towards and trying to seem as not awkward as they could. As much as they knew they were failing at that. “Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel!” Charlie said excitedly to the group of new demons that had been looking around the living area in almost an awe. “This place looks amazing!” Kai said loudly. He was always the one who was most comfortable with messing around with new people. Though the other 2 tended to stay quiet until introductions were in order. The Marionette stood in place in between Tsu and Alex with Kai wandering around the room looking at decorations. It was a rather silent meeting as no one was talking. They seemed to all be sizing each other up wondering what exactly the others were trying to gain from this meeting.

Until a certain red haired demon appeared out of the shadows. “Welcome, the names Alastor, pleasure to be meeting you, quite a pleasure.” Alastor had broken the silence that they all had been dreading and quite comfortably at that. “Good afternoon, I’m the marionette, and these are my boys. Tsu, Alex, and Kai” she said while gesturing to each of the boys next to her then the one wandering around. “Do forgive that one. He is rather curious, sometimes annoyingly so.” She said pointing at Kai who was at ease while sniffing a curtain. “Oh it’s no worries, new place and all I’m sure they’d love to explore a bit” Cherri said while chuckling lightly. Almost as if she was pointing out their rather obvious cat-like instinct. “Ha Ha” Alex said dryly unimpressed by her dumb allegations. “Be nice” was then harshly spoken out cutting through the air like a string snapping after being pulled too tight. Alex’s ears flattened to his head as he turned slightly away from the overlord whose eyes were a glowing red. “It's alright no worries” Cherri said lightly. “Well I suppose we should introduce ourselves as well” Charlie said with a skip in her voice. “As you know I’m Charlie, and this is my girlfriend Vaggie” she said pulling a shorter demon with long white hair alongside her. “It’s a pleasure” Nette said, shaking the demon's hand. “This is Angel, Husk, Cherri, and Nifty” she said gesturing to each of the hotel members seated on the couches. “Good to be meeting all of you” Nette said. Finding a new hope that she might avoid having to meet the king of hell himself as she did not see him anywhere.

That hope was short-lived once a shorter male demon with blonde hair and red cheeks, wearing white while adorning a hat decorated with a gold snake and a bright red apple stepped into the room. Carrying himself with a sense of power and pride holding a cane with an apple on the top of it. Nette immediately realized this was the man she had hoped to avoid meeting and in that realization missed him crossing the room to be directly in front of her and Charlie. Coming back to reality she had completely missed what he had said to her. Only offering him a small smile as to not embarrass herself anymore. She then realized the king of hell was taller than her. Yes this short demon was taller than Nette. How she wished she didn’t have to slightly look up at him. After all having to constantly look way up at her boys she didn’t think many people would be shorter than her, but oh how she hoped she’d have something over him. “It’s good to meet you sir” Alex said seemingly taking over the conversation smoothly. He had to have heard what the king said. “Charmed” Lucifer said, not taking his eyes off the overlord in the center. “Likewise” Nette responded calmly hoping it would cover her mistake of missing what he had said to her first.

After introductions were completed Charlie ushered the group to sit down on the couch wanting to speak with them about a proposition she had thought of. Of course, she had mentioned it to Vaggie in their time waiting for the overlord to arrive at the hotel, but despite her girlfriend’s hesitation to the matter she still thought it would be best to see if they would be willing to hear her out. After all, it might be for the best to attempt to get another overlord on their side to help out with the hotel. Not only would it provide more security, but it would also allow for the word to spread about an overlord joining the hotel in hopes to attract more sinners to give the hotel a chance. Charlie then realized she had begun to get a bit nervous as Angel began offering snacks to the boys. Catching Kai’s attention leading him to striking up a conversation with the grumpy cat bartender and the pink spider demon. Marionette on the other hand was keeping a watchful eye on the princess as well as the king himself. Wanting to make sure this wasn’t going to be some kind of ambush. She had always known not to trust demons especially when they were ‘pretending to be nice’ and offering things to them almost eagerly. It made her think there was some kind of catch to this whole arrangement. But alas she would keep that thought to herself and make sure she saw this through. After all, the king of hell could very well wipe each of them from existence if he so pleased, but he hadn’t. Meaning he values what his daughter thinks of him. So at least there was that for now.

“So the reason we wanted to speak with you was because Alastor had said you were rather new here, and that he hadn’t seen you before. We were wondering -of course only if you wanted to we wouldn’t wanna force you into anything- if you would be willing to help out with the hotel?- again only if you want to we’re not really into the whole forcing people to do things here… hahaha” Vaggie had tapped Charlie on the shoulder signaling she had been rambling. “We don’t do deals.” Nette spoke harshly. “Especially with demons whom we just met and have had no prior engagement with.” Alex added onto his mama's statement. “Oh no no no we’re not asking to make any kind of deal” Charlie rambled off quickly. Nette gave her a rather puzzled look. As she could see the string connected from Charlie’s wrist to the radio demon standing just behind the couch. “From my understanding we were asked to visit due to the unfortunate damage that was done to the side of the building unintentionally caused by our incident earlier. We came here only to deal with that. Apologies if we gave the impression that we wanted anything else.” “Of course, I understand we only wanted to pitch our idea to you guys about the hotel to see if you would be willing to help us out. Is all it was” Charlie said. “I understand, no hard feelings then. Please allow me to repair the side of the building as that was our original objective. Then I would be happy to hear you out about what exactly it is you are doing here.” Nette gave a small smile. She wanted to at least get the thing they came here to do out of the way, so if anything went sideways she wouldn’t feel as though she owed the princess anything. “Of course, I’ll show you the damage” The princess responded then began standing up from her place on the couch. “I can fix it entirely without any issues Charlie” Lucifer said pointedly at his daughter. “Yes I fail to see why we should make our guest fix something on the building that was a rather unfortunate accident.” Alastor chimed in. “Allow us to take care of it, feel free to discuss what you will in the meantime” Lucifer said, standing up from the couch. “I hardly think that’s a fair trade. After all the damage was caused due to a miscalculation on my part during a battle I was involved in. Perhaps it would be best if I was the one who tended to the damage.” Nette said, rising to her feet. All 3 of her boys doing so as well taking a few steps forwards to be just in front of her. “After all I doubt you guys can fix it faster than mama can” Kai said looking at the 2 men trying to stop Nette from doing what they had asked of her to begin with.

All 5 of the men were looking at each other as they were seemingly trying to size up their opponents. Comparing power levels to each other using this as the deciding factor on who would win if they fought. This seems to be the common thought behind each of their eyes. It was only when nette saw the radio demon’s eyes glow a brighter red and one of the boys go to take a step towards him that she snapped out “Sit the fuck down” all 3 of her boys dropping to the floor instantly. The hotel members looked at her with shock as her voice had changed to one that they hadn’t ever heard (Not even earlier when she was fighting the attacking overlord). No, this voice was one of anger. Like a broken voice box in an old doll. Threatening and terrifying yet soothingly smooth all at the same time. They then saw a blue colored collar and chain connected to each of the boys' necks wrapping around them completely. Additionally they noticed strings wrapped around and hanging down from their wrists. Upon seeing the boys one black eye during introductions earlier they knew they must have a contract with the blue themed overlord. But this collar certainly didn’t look like a usual soul contract collar. One that usually was simply adorned with a latch and chain, no this was much more entangled into them. The string seemingly tied their very existence to hers, as if she could control them down to their very core. Down to even the movements of their limbs. This revelation caused both the radio demon and the king of hell to be even more confused- yet similarly intrigued- by the overlord that stood in front of them. How did she have this much power? Where did it come from? And how did she manage to take charge of someone else’s soul? They had so many questions but knew it would be nearly impossible to even attempt to get any of them answered. But they sure were going to try.

Taglist:

@popamolly

#alastor #angel dust #charlie morningstar #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin husker #hazbin lucifer #huskerdust #lucifer morningstar #hazbin angeldust #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer #marionette

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getossluttywaist · 1 month

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String of fate - Geto Suguru

"According to legend, this thread emanating from the heart doesn’t end at the tip of the finger. It continues in the form of an invisible red string, which ’’flows’’ out of your pinkie and goes on to intertwine with the red strings of other people — connecting your heart with theirs. People who are connected are destined to meet"

A Geto Suguru fanfiction - AU where Geto never started the cult and the main character has the power to control the string of fate.

Hi everyone! i essentially was thinking of a power for an OC and come up this the string of fate idea and one thing lead to another and i wrote this :') this is my first time writing like this so if you have any feed back please let me know!! I will probably turn this into a fanfic ~k

The world stopped moving; she felt the little red string that had always been tied to her pinky loosen. She stopped focusing on the enemy she was currently battling, frantically searching for him. She looked down at the string, grabbing it desperately, she pulled other strings to her body to travel to him, her instincts to go to him taking over her.

The ringing in her ears drowned out the yelling, the screams for help, the sound of death. She knew the enemy would follow; she knew they would catch up to her. If she lost him, there would be no point in fighting anymore. The string she gripped in her hand, lead to her lover. She hoped that the tighter she held onto him, onto his string, his fate would stay the same. She saw his figure from afar, he was fighting one of the sorcerers. She could feel his string becoming shorter, she could feel his fate changing.

She hurried her speed, pulling at different strings to try and decrease the distance between them. “It’s not fast enough,” she cried in desperation to make the strings move her faster, causing her voice to become weak. Her vision was becoming distorted as tears began to fill her eyes. She held onto her tears, she refused to let them fall, refusing to accept what was happening.

She let out a desperate scream, a plea to him, to the gods above, to anyone as she watched the sorcerer deliver her lover's new fate to him. She watched as he stumbled, holding his side. The world started to move slowly as she watched the events unfold before her. Dread began washing over her body, her eyes were locked onto him out of fear that if she looked away for a single moment he would disappear.

As she rushed to him, her focus on him caused her to crash into rubble causing her to stumble, she let out a curse under her breath as she tried to increase the speed of the strings attached to her. He looked up at her, watching her rush to him. He smiled softly at her; he was speaking to her but she was still too far to hear.

She pulled on his fate, trying to change it, trying to save him. She could feel the string loosening around its previous place on her pinky, she was loosing her grip on the string, no matter what she did the string became weaker, it became shorter. The proof of the love they shared, her hopes, her dreams, the reason she was fighting, was slipping from her grasp.

She detached herself from the strings and rushed to guide him as he fell to the ground, his clothing was saturated in blood, the air carried an overpowering metallic scent to her nose. She was running out of time. She couldn’t think straight; the fear of losing him was consuming her thoughts.

“I need to heal him; I can heal him,” her voice trembled and broke. She was clinging onto any bit of hope, any delusion where he could be saved, unable to accept the sight before her. She placed her hands on his wound to hold pressure, trying to stop the bleeding. She began looking around, using whatever strength she had left, trying to summon another fate string for him; she frantically searched for a string that didn’t end. she touched every possible fate string, flashes of the inevitable destroyed any hope that remained, they all ended the same.

“No, no, no, no, no, there has to be one that doesn’t end!“ she yelled, panic was consuming her. She searched other strings to add to the shortening one, looking for anyone or anything that could heal him.

She could see all of the possible deaths of a person; she could protect a persons fate string; she could have prevented this; she could have saved him. Why didn’t she stay with him? Why did she let her guard down? Why didn’t she see this fate? Every thought of how she failed him was ripping her apart. The guilt was added to the regret and despair that filled her, beginning to overflow.

As she looked at his wound she noticed the blood was starting to slow; false hope started to fill in her heart. “The bleeding, it’s slowing down!“ she had some foolish hope that if she could convince herself he was okay, that he would be. But the amount of blood that had poured from his body gave her the harsh reality she desperately wished was just a trick.

He placed his hands on hers, giving then a gentle tap; her focus was back on the man below her. His face was pale, his eyes were dull and sunken in, a stark contrast to the face that she had seen just hours ago. She longed to see his eyes sparkle as he laughed; she longed to see his smile one last time.

“I’m happy you’re the last person I got to see,“ His voice was weak, his breathing was shallow, he could barely bring his hand to her cheek as he rubbed his thumb over her lips gently. He smiled at her lovingly, his eyes scanned her face taking in every freckle, every blemish every curve, making sure to engrave it into his memory.

She let out a desperate laugh, at his words. “If I hide my face will that make you stay?” As she spoke, her voice broke; a sob escaped her; her question made him let out a soft breath of amusement.

“Please don’t leave me, I need you.” She pleaded, the sadness she felt was filling her lungs, She couldn’t breathe; She was drowning. He was all she had left; he was supposed to be there forever. The string that connected the two started to unravel and fade, flashing images of what would have been, in her mind; breaking her heart even more.

“Promise me you will find me in our next life?” His voice had grown softer, the pain of speaking evident in his face.

“Only if you promise to wait for me,” her bottom lip trembled as his eyes filled with tears, he was scared but he would never admit it; she knew him well enough to know that. She watched through tear filled eyes as he lifted his arm holding out his pinky.

She placed the finger that once had their future wrapped around it, in his, sealing their new fate. They both watched as a new red string appeared on her finger, neatly tied in a Knot.

His wound had stopped bleeding.

She brought her hand to hold his up as she felt his hand become limp. She leaned into his touch letting the pain consume her; she felt as if her chest was being torn open, like her head was being held underwater. He had taken her heart with him, she didn’t stop it. Her heart, her soul belonged with him.

She looked at the little red string that was tied to her pinky, in the place where the string that once connected the two lovers had been; a reminder of their promise. Her heart sank as she watched another string shortened; she felt a mixture of despair and relief as her fate changed.

#geto suguru #jjk #jjk geto #suguru #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fanfic #jjk au #geto x reader #jujutsu geto #kenjaku #fanfic #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jjk fanfiction

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greenhorn-art · 7 months

Text

It Starts with a Dream by Autumn_Rain @ciaolongbao

Fandom: 全职高手 | The King's Avatar

Rating: General Audiences

Category: Gen

Words: 6 566

In a collaboration with Make-a-Wish Foundation, the Glory Professional Alliance hosts an event in Shanghai so that the children could meet their idols and heroes. It was a normal publicity stunt and charity event until it stopped being one. Trust Ye Xiu to always derail the Alliance's plans, but this time no one could blame him, or Han Wenqing, for that matter. Who would expect them to be so good with kids?

About the book:

FONTS: Crimson [Google Fonts], Roboto [Google Fonts], and Georgia

IMAGES: Equalizer background from Rawpixel (ID: 3119862); Gamepad icon (Image# 5358929) by pictranoosa on The Noun Project; Heavenly Domain image from The King’s Avatar Wikia.

MATERIALS: 20lb 96 bright 8½”×11”multiuse paper; 0.057" chipboard; Ruby red Iris Bookcloth; Neenah bright white 8½”×11” 65lb cardstock; 30/3 waxed linen thread; wheat paste (1:4 flour to water).

PROGRAMS USED: typeset in Affinity Publisher 2; cover designed with Affinity Designer 2 and Affinity Photo 2; imposed with Renegade's Community Imposer (settings: Quarto, snug against binding edge, signatures of 2 sheets).

Textblock printed with laser printer, covers printed with inkjet printer.

BINDING: Quarto size (quarter-letter, 4.25"x5.5"), sewn board binding with French-link stitch and breakaway spine.

Trying New Things 2: Electric Bugaloo!

Though it's not my first time making a quarto size book, it's my first sewn board binding and my first breakaway spine. Will not be my last. (I'm fact, as I'm writing this I've already bound another QZGS fic using this method!)

Much like Coptic, the sewn board binding technique bypasses the exact things I dread about making a case bound book: making the cover and casing in. Haven't gotten the hang of spines or hinges yet. Or pasting down the endpapers when casing in. (Art imitating life: my books aren't straight and neither am I lol)

Drumming things on (use of minimal glue, only on edges where necessary) is a lot less stressful and means there is less moisture to worry about. However I have my doubts about the structural integrity and longevity of sewn board binding when compared to case binding. With minimal glueing there's less holding it together, and the particular method of covering the boards means that they're partially exposed, in all their onion-y glory (by which I mean 🧅layers✨).

Onto the design:

The endpapers are an image of Glory's heavenly domain, acquired from The King's Avatar Wikia (I just cropped out the pro teams' logos, then resized and cropped to fit.)

The covers were designed as one image so that the contents will flow and connect from one cover to the other.

A major theme of this story, I felt, was connection: the kids are meeting their heroes; HWQ and YX stun everyone by connecting so well with the kids, playing with them, encouraging them, and inspiring them; YX opens up about his backstory and reveals a similar dream to a kid; that same kid going on to become a pro with New Excellent Era.

To pull some quotes from the story: "Everything started with a dream between friends… but now that dream will end with a legacy", "after all, you're never going to be walking alone. Glory has never been mean to be played alone", YX "[continued] inspiring new generations of gamers long after he had retired."

Following that theme of connection, the controllers on the covers are physically connected with a pinkish-red wire. For that I went with a red string of fate, thinking along the lines of fate and a love of Glory. The wire is also in the shape of a cancer awareness ribbon on the front cover (hence why the red is skewed pink).

The black and white controllers are like Player 1 & 2, and they're connected. To each other, to Glory.

I traced the gamepad icon with the pen tool in Affinity Designer, creating filled in curves of each component, for ease of recolouring and resizing without losing quality.

An equalizer background image, stretched and with low opacity, adds texture to the cover. It also reminded me of pixels from holograms. (The idea of the pros and kids' game playing out on stage with massive holograms really stuck with me).

I also wanted to directly reference Make-a-Wish in the cover design, so I looked up which font they use in the logo/branding. Search results turned up Georgia being used in relation to the brand, so I exclusively used that font on the covers. And added a little star above the 'i' in 'with', like in 'Wish' for the Make-a-Wish logo.

(also first attempt at nail art. Armed with a toothpick, I made Ye Xiu from The King's Avatar themed nails! 😾Sullen Kitten; 🌶️Unrivalled Super Hottie; ☂️Myriad Manifestations Umbrella; 🍁One Autumn Leaf; 😊Happy)

#Autumn_Rain #It Starts with a Dream #the king's avatar #qzgs #tka #fanfiction #bookbinding

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tumblingxelian · 2 months

Text

Wednesday Fanfic Concept Compellation:

This is a compellation of all my Wednesday fanfic ideas I likely will not have the time or energy to write but wanted a record of:

Wednesday Fanfic Concept - Rivals and Roommates to Lovers With her parents fast approaching for a string of "Family Therapy Sessions" and with the looing promise of their intervention in her nonexistent love life, Wednesday is forced to take drastic action.

"Enid, Barclay, I have need of one or both of your assistance in a little deception for the duration of my parents extended visit."

Wednesday Fanfic Concept - The Traumatized Time Traveler Enid watches as her new roommate stares her down, glassy eyes wide as she offers her hand, the words "Wednesday Friday Addams," Escaping her mouth in an almost pained whisper.

Smiling brightly she grasps it, not too firmly given Wednesday looks like she might be bowled over by a stiff breeze and she cheerily greets her.

"I'm so glad you're here Wednesday, I'm Enid asiménio oíko Sinclair."

Her gaze flickered to the adults and she could only wonder…

Why were they giving Wednesday such shocked stares?

The Nevermore Affair When Wednesday Addams was forced to attend Nevermore Academy she was confident about two things.

1: She would be escaping in short order. 2: She would in no way follow her mothers matrimonial footsteps.

Which begs the question of how she managed to find herself engaged twice over within the first twenty four hours!?

Worse still, it is to the two most vexing people at Nevermore, Enid Sinclair and Bianca Barclay.

The Worlds most unhinged road trip! If Wednesday had to choose between listening to her parents passionate declarations of love, at best, or a road trip with Tanaka and Divina to free Enid from boot camp and Bianca from her mother she would choose the lesser of two evils and hit the road.

Wenclair - Fake Courting, Politics and Assassins Oh My! Wednesday does not wish to return home just yet to be coddled and cooed over by her parents. So when Enid dreads her mothers attempts at matchmaking now that she has transformed the Seer concocts an ingenious plan to both irritate Esther Sinclair, ward off Enid's unwanted suitors and give herself some space.

Unfortunately she did not account on Outcast politics. let alone Esther Sinclair endorsing their false relationship for her own schemes. It seems Enid was right to worry there were factors she had not considered.

Wednesday Fanfic Concept - Soulmate Struggles Wednesday has always loathed the idea of a Soulmates. Emotions of warm nostalgia and love forced on her for a stranger by the whims of fate? IF she ever meets the people whose marks match hers she will ensure she doe snot become a slave to passion as her parents did!

Bianca had always feared meeting her Soulmates. Already terrified of the power she had over the minds of others she could think of nothing kinder than to reject them as harshly as possible.

Enid had always longed too meet her soulmates, hoping to find two kindred spirits who could perhaps love her without conditions or demands.

Too bad for the three of them what they got was each other.

Wednesday Fanfic Concept - Mothers When Enid slipped away from her mother and the horrifying thought of Conversion Therapy she did not expect to stumble on a conversation between Bianca and her own mother, let alone one so terrifying.

Bianca did not expect to spend Parents day trying to escape her mothers grasp. Let alone trying to do so in the Nightshades catacombs with Enid Sinclair at her side.

With any luck their mothers will kill each other or give up the search, but then, when have they ever been lucky?

Wednesday Fanfic Concept - Duo Detectives! Enid does not trust Tyler, not in the least. So when Wednesday skips away to get a ride for him she doubles back to make sure the girl won't be ambushed in the parking lot or something.

Instead she finds herself pursuing Tyler into the woods and witnesses his trust nature and the death of Rowan

Wednesday, now armed with a secondary witness and ally is determined to fin out the truth behind Rowan's death, the prophecy and most of all…

Why Principle Weems and Sheriff Galpin are coordinating to cover up Tyler's murders?

Wednesday Fanfic Concept - Nevermore Never Worry Wednesday finds her efforts to escape Nevermore consantly frustrated by everything from annoying people to her own proclivities.

It is vexing, but at least nothing more serious is going on that might lure her into staying long term; even if she is finding some tolerable people.

Wednesday Fanfic Concept - Shadow Wolf Wednesday does not notice the rainbow lights or the bright pastels of the dorm room. Let alone the fact half the window is etched in greys blacks and white or that half the room is already laid out for her arrival.

No, her gaze is locked solely on the figure awaiting her inside it.

"I'm Enid Sinclair, welcome to Nevermore, Wednesday."

The voice is gentle but firm and she keeps her distance and no one else seems to notice anything amiss, but Wednesday does.

Because in place of a head, or face, or any human features is the visage of bleeding wolf, thrashing and snarling in fury, blood dripping down its savage maw, glowing eyes gazing into her own.

Wednesday Addams has no idea what Enid Sinclair is, or why no one else can see it, but she intends to find out. If the shadowed wolf doesn't devour her first.

#Wednesday #wednesday addams #wednesday netflix #Enid Sinclair #enid x wednesday #bianca barclay #Bianca x Wednesday #Bianca x Enid #Text post #Enid/Wednesday/Bianca #Yoko Tanaka #Divina (Wednesday)#Fanfic concepts #My work #I have some other ideas but more vague #Like Tyler kidnapping Wednesday on the first night but THing managing to signa for help #So he has to leave her injured in a tree & fake a car crash she is found by Enid & Bianca #Thornhill has some of her blood stolen and stored but isn't sure if the storage will work #They help Wednesday solve the case as she is on bed rest for some time

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throneofsapphics · 8 months

Note

Manon x reader x Asterin (angst) please 🤸‍♀️

think for yourself.

(part two)

Manon x Reader x Asterin

Summary: “I don’t care how you feel about this.” The white haired witch said through gritted teeth, those gold eyes seeming to burn a brand into you.

“When have you ever cared?” Your voice was quiet and you went against all common sense, turning your back to walk towards the kitchen area. “Leave.”

Word Count: ~1.4k

Warnings: angst, slight injury, blood

A/N: angst is my favorite thing to write. I'm so sorry. also not proofread very well

It was late at night, in the small cabin you lived in, a few miles from the nearest village, perfectly secluded. The safest way for you to live. When you made trips into town, they welcomed you with open arms - mostly because of the herbs and goods you would barter or sell, but you did have a few friends there. Nobody there knows exactly where you live, nor did you invite anyone over, and you always took different routes home, shaking any who tried to follow. Even if that meant you would double the amount of time it took you to get back. Paranoia is good. It’s kept you alive. However, any common sense seemed to fall away for two witches. Who’d thankfully captured your heart instead of tearing it out.

I haven’t seen your kind for some time.” A smooth and cold voice purred from behind you. Rarely could anyone sneak up on you, not with the senses from your Fae heritage. You slowly turned to face them. To of them. Witches. One with white-blonde hair and a predatory look in her eyes stalked towards you, the other fell into step a pace behind her, matching each other in pace and stride. Instead of the urge to flee, a small voice told you to stay. So you did, with that immortal stillness. Fleeing would give them a chase, something they undoubtedly would enjoy.

You didn’t flinch as iron nails snapped out, or as one dug under your chin, tilting your face upwards. You met the burnt-gold eyes with a defiant gaze. “I don’t remember them being quite so pretty,” the other commented, and you could hear the amusement but didn’t dare take your eyes off the witch in front of you. The nails snapped back, and the two walked away without another word.

The cabin had one bedroom, a living and kitchen area, and an outhouse. A few hens cluck around outside, along with a particularly nasty rooster you caught Manon eyeing once in a while. Like it would be her next meal.

You laid, stretched across the couch with your head in Asterin’s lap, her fingers running through your hair, and Manon sat not too far away, in a worn down but cozy red armchair you’d come to associate as hers.

A tension filled the room, both of the witches seeming on edge, and you couldn’t figure out why. Finally, you sighed and sat up, ignoring Asterin’s huff of protest and angling yourself so you could easily see both of them. “What is it?” you asked.

“We’re leaving.” Manon said bluntly, and Asterin winced.

“When?” You replied, fighting the dread that crept inside you. The left frequently, but something about this felt different. Off.

“One week.”

Your heart dropped, eyes starting to burn slightly but Manon wouldn’t react to your tears, she never did. Asterin, on the other hand, would. To anyone else, except maybe the rest of the thirteen, she would seem just as unflinching, the perfect mask of stone obedience. But, the corners of her lips turned down ever so slightly. Guilt, you could sense her guilt. If they were telling you this early …

You cleared your throat, “how long?”

“We don’t know.” Asterin said softly.

“Can I ask what you’ll be doing?”

“You can always ask,” she teased, but it fell short. She and Manon exchanged a glance, and Asterin continued - to your surprise. “The King has been breeding Wyvern’s. He needs riders for his aerial cavalry.”

The world froze around you. You felt fate tightening its strings, twisting around your heart. Ironteeth witches as aerial cavalry for the king's army. That same army who … but they didn’t know about that, or they never would’ve told you.

“Are you going to say anything?” Manon snapped, your silence annoying her. She didn’t like being ignored.

“Why?” You looked back and forth between the two of them.

“When we are done, when we’ve served” Manon said the word with disgust, “him, we will keep the wyverns and reclaim the wastes.”

The wastes. The homeland both of them had been dreaming of for longer than you were alive. But serving him? The King had already conquered Erilea, committed various genocides, banished magic, and had an entire continent under his thumb. What more is he planning to do? Manon, herself, would never make the choice to serve a king, to follow his orders, meaning it had to have come from her grandmother. The High Witch of the Blackbeak clan. You tried to swallow your anger, you really did, but the words came out before your filter could catch up.

“Is this how you’re going to spend the rest of your life, following your grandmothers every order, whoring yourself out to that King?” Before you could blink, both were on their feet. Manon’s iron nails dug harshly into your skin, and you felt the warm slick of blood starting to drip down your neck as she dragged you to your feet.

“I should kill you.” Manon snarled, cold fury in her eyes. You’d insulted her, hit right where it would hurt. Good. Asterin laid a hand on her cousin's shoulder, but her eyes were cold too.

“Do it,” you snarled right back, “your never master would order you to anyway.”

Asterin barely yanked Manon back in time, scratches that would scar left blood dripping down your neck. “Be careful what you say next,” she warned as Manon shook off her grip. Seconds ago, Manon may have killed you but you could tell she wouldn’t now.

“I don’t care how you feel about this.” The white haired witch said through gritted teeth, those gold eyes seeming to burn a brand into you.

“When have you ever cared?” Your voice was quiet and you went against all common sense, turning your back to walk towards the kitchen area. “Leave.”

Two sets of footsteps left, the door creaked open and slammed shut, and hushed arguments sounded outside your door. Too quiet for you to hear. One set came back in as the heavy oak door creaked, but closed quietly this time.

“She does care,” Asterin said softly, her arms wrapping around your waist to pull your back to her chest. Despite the anger still bubbling in you, you melted back into her, resting your head against her shoulder. “She’ll be back in a few days,” she murmured, not expecting a reply from you.

She let you lay in her arms until late that night, content to enjoy each others embrace, as if she knew what would happen next.

Manon stormed towards your cabin, intent on doing something. She wouldn’t apologize, but didn’t want to leave on those terms, with your words in her mind. Whoring yourself out. Your new master. If you were anyone else, you would’ve been dead before the second curse had been uttered.

Asterin followed closely behind her. They knew something was off as soon as they arrived. It felt stale. The hens and that gods-damned rooster were nowhere to be seen. She slammed through the door and the place was empty. You hadn’t been there in a few days. A quick scan told her everything essential to you was gone.

She whirled on Asterin. “Did you know?” Her second shook her head, her emotions flooding through her eyes.

A small note on the table. Manon’s stomach dropped seeing it. She didn’t want to, but she had to read it. Instinct told her the note was meant mostly for her, even without a name on it.,

I love you. If you ever loved, cared for, or respected me, you’ll leave me alone. I hope you learn to think for yourself one day.

Discolored spots and splotched ink littered the page. You cried while writing it. Manon dropped it like it burned her, and stalked out the cabin without a look back.

Asterin read it one. Twice. Three times, and memorized it before destroying it. She took one last look around, trying to memorize every detail, before letting out a long breath and following Manon.

The battle was over, and Manon still felt empty. A gaping hole left in her soul. Twelve pieces of her were missing. But, footsteps sounded behind her, and she prepared to snarl at whoever might be disturbing her. She was surprised when Abraxos didn’t react beyond curiosity. Manon knew that scent. Intimately. She whirled around to see you. Alive.

“So you did learn to think for yourself.”

#manon x reader #manon blackbeak x reader #asterin x reader #asterin blackbeak x reader #asterin blackbeak x y/n #manon x y/n #manon blackbeak x yn #throne of glass fic #throne of glass imagine #angst and comfort if you squint a lot #ending isn't really happy #not proofread #not poly I know they're cousins

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channoticedmeuwu · 11 months

Text

𝐘𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐉𝐔𝐍 ; 𝐀 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄

p — YEONJUN × FEM!READER | g — slice of life, coming of age, slight fluff &/or angst | w — none ¿?

a/n — got emo, needed a change of usual writing environment

he's the boy you've always known you've wanted. from the moment you saw him til the moment you left him, you know he was the one. love with yeonjun was nothing like you've ever felt before. it was bittersweet, it was a rush, it was a race. but it was also a slow paced rhythm, a soft melody, a drag of the soft fingers against the warmth of skin.

there was nothing you'd find more comfortable than familiarity. and yeonjun grew from the unrecognizable to the irresistible, like a child experiencing rainfall for the first time, or a new experience proving to be nothing but something you'd think to yourself like, "oh, I could get used to this."

yeonjun was nothing but a star in your night of constellations; a mere spec of dust that would appear in anyone else's life and leave just like that. but again, like stars, your worlds would come crashing into each other as he would kiss you, and the sequin of your skies would dissolve as he gazed at you with his ever-so loving eyes.

yeonjun's eyes would turn lighter in the presence of sunlight, and he'd smile as he'd run his fingers through your hair lazily, reminiscing about moments spent together. it wasn't uncommon for yeonjun to love you so tenderly, like you were the sun his planets would orbit.

but the orbit came to an end, and you still remember the look in his eyes as you kissed him goodbye for the final time. instead of the red string of fate, tied around your wrists was the grey thread of dread as you'd hold hands, and something began to fade in your worlds—like all stars were beginning to fall.

yeonjun was, yet again, just a star in your night of constellations. so you'd hug yourself and remind yourself that “getting used” to yeonjun was just a matter of growing up. and you were going to continue your life without him, like a closed chapter you desperately wanted to reopen, if it wasn't for your greater good.

so it caught you off guard when you'd face yeonjun years later, the same glint in his eyes of a slightly matured face, the same smile of a sharper jaw. yeonjun was more reserved, but even he knew that there was something brighter about the color of the string attaching your hands. and he saw the way you looked at him like he was the night to your day.

swift glances and stolen kisses behind alleyways, you never fail to leave yeonjun breathless. and your smile grew tender as you'd see the boy, sheepish smiles as he told you jokes and pink cheeks as your hands would brush again, and again, and again.

yeonjun grew comfortable with your familiarity. and there he was again, middle of the night at your doorstep, out of breath and drunk on the missed feeling of your skin against his and his lips against yours, desperately craving you back. and with a tumble of his words, he'd heave a sigh as his eyes bore into your skin.

“can we try again?”

txt — masterlist

main taglist (hmu to get added!) — @koishua @navyhyuck @allegxdly @daystiny @kdyism @neotism @bluejaem @radiorenjun @sleepylixie @oifelixcmerebrou @mrkcore @imdamnconfused @sicluvz @abhirami20 @tyongishs @emvrd @brxght-world

I’d appreciate if you’d give me a little feedback on the drabble if you read, whether it’s an ask, a reply or in the tags of the rb! Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed!

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kusagrasskusa · 1 year

Note

Hi there! so i have read your request rules and i have no idea if i can find if they are opened or closed but if they’re closed, please do not take this!

Raiden finding his S/O dead after a argument. Not a suicide, just a murder. I’m about to go all out on these details. 😭

So S/O and Raiden got into a argument about his safety and what not and they separate for a few hours (not break up, just avoiding.) He noticed how the house they shared got a bit to quiet. He went to go and find her, but found her dead on the living room floor dead with a tranquilizer (filled with poison) in her neck. I know my request is crappy and probably makes no sense whats so ever. 💔 But if this is not crappy to you, you can write it! But if your request are closed, you don’t have to. Also, no happy endings for NOBODY. 😍

But thats all for my request. Ty for your time!

Ohhh I like this!! Thank you so much for your request! I love it whenever people give me a scenario with details, it makes it easier for me to write and not worry about if the requester will like it 😂❤️ But fr though, happy endings are no bueno… life just isn’t gonna be a happy place, especially if you’re named Y/N 😈 or in this case, Raiden too

Also I found this sexy piece of art from u/all-men-die on r/MortalKombat!! All credit goes to them! And also, Raiden has hair in this hehe.. sorry not sorry 😋❤️

And I’ll update my Request Rules after I post this!

Raiden finding S/O dead after an arguement

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎ ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎ ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

Shinnok had been given a fate worse than death and his blood may fall to Raiden’s hands. He was no longer the thunder god Y/N had married- no, he was someone else entirely. Y/N was a human but it didn’t take a genius to learn of Shinnok’s amulets’ doing to her husband as suddenly his mercy had disappeared overnight a while ago. Ever since then it had been a weight on her shoulders; this was a man who killed those who he believed to be a threat to his ideologies unlike the man who had once advocated to protect Earthrealm at all costs, and murder was only needed in certain cases. A genocide against all his foes was something Y/N couldn’t sleep at night to the thought of. Who had her husband became?

Y/N was biting her lip in thought, leaning over her kitchen counter. Her eyes were blank as she daydreamed, and her focus only broke whenever her husband had suddenly walked in through the front door. It was a little house she lived in near the sky temple that was provided by her dear husband, though now, it almost felt like a prison. “Raiden?” She called out instinctively as she turned her head towards the front door. The lightning god himself and stepped in, removing his conical sedge hat and sighing.

“Hello, dear,” he replied with a tired voice. Y/N was easily the mother type whenever it came towards caring for her husband, and simply hearing that string of tiredness made her anxious. She quickly made her way over to her husband as his hair dropped down and a little tangled, making her frown. “I have something important to discuss with you.” Y/N wrapped her arms around her husband with a feeling of dread in her stomach, but nodded softly.

She knew her husband had something bad to say, but never this.

“Raiden, how could you!” Y/N seethed, her eyebrows furrowed and her eyes wide with rage. “Why in the heavens would you be so irrational? Do you ever think about yourself in those moments?”

Raiden’s emotionless stare was enough to tell her he wasn’t at all feeling guilty for this actions. “Shinnok was the greatest threat to Earthrealm. I would have thought you to be more reasonable,” he replied in a serious tone, “had I not put an end to him, you may never know what evils he would bestow upon Earthrealm again.”

Sickening; Y/N felt like vomiting just then. Raiden had come home from torturing Shinnok and then beheading him. Yes, the Elder God was a cruel creature however how could Raiden act on such torture? Whether one agrees that Shinnok deserved it or not must understand the one who enacted on this was someone who would have never done something like this just a little bit before now. “This isn’t you, Raiden,” she hissed, standing up from the couch. “Will you subject anyone who defies you to such torture? A fate worst than death? Had you ever considered the effect of your actions? Had you ever considered the effects on you?”

Zzzz-CRACK the lightning went, appearing from no where. Y/N gasped and fell from her seat. Raiden stood up off of the couch, towering over her. “Y/N, I don’t suppose you are defending him, are you?” Lightening trailed off of his body in a threatening manner, which she would have thought attractive if she wasn’t at the victim of it. Her moment of fear quickly passed as she shot up off the ground. The lightning quickly disappeared as if quickly realized his mistake.

“Raiden, until you are thinking more clearly, I want you away from me. It’s for your own safety, and it seems I must think of my own when I’m around you as well.”

The look in his eyes were obvious that he was sorry. Though the words didn’t come out since he knew the way his wife would get- she wouldn’t accept it until she feels better. He nodded his head and began to walk down the hall and into their shared bedroom, leaving Y/N to look out at him as he walked. She felt a pain in her chest when she watched him leave but… what just happened? Who was that man who had just threatened her just then? It couldn’t have been the same god she fell in love with.

She let out a little gasp as she spun around, having heard the door open. Did Raiden walk around her without her noticing and tried to leave?

No, he had been in the bedroom for at least a few minutes at this point. He laid in their bed, hands on his head, as he processed what was going on. “Dearest, I hope you’ll understand one day,” he mumbled, “but please forgive me. I had stepped out of line and made you feel threatened.” He spoke as if he were praying to her for her forgiveness which he sort of was. Why, she’s the (now) immortal wife of the lightning god. She’s close enough, is she not?

And to a mortal praying to their god, him praying to his dearest wife is something just as dear if not more. He promised eternity’s worth of protection and love yet he had almost broken the first promise. How could he make up for it? As he sensed the amulet’s energy off of him, he sighed, “perhaps it has darkening my judgement… No, this is it. I shall no longer let this evil cloud the better of my mind.” He seethed through his teeth as guilt began to wallow inside it. Dammit, what had he done?

However, the deafening silence as minutes and minutes to half an hour has passed made it a little hard to think. “That is it,” he decided, getting up out of bed, “no more fighting until they call me to it.” He smiled softly, combing his hair with his fingers as he walked out of the bedroom. Actually, during one of his thought processes, he decided to change out of his regular gear and put on a special outfit his dear Y/N made for him during one of his trips. It was soft, warm and had obviously had the perfect loving touch of his wife and so he felt like it would perhaps appease her to see him have it. As he stepped out into the living room, he looked around- no one.

“Y/N?” He called out softly, furrowing his eyebrows. He made his way around the couch, calling out, “Dear, I know I have upset you, but-… Y/N?” He voice was the most unstable anyone had ever heard of the pronounce lord, however whenever he saw his wife laying on her back, wide eyed, and mouth gapped on the floor, he was more distraught than he had ever been in his entire immortal life.

“Y/N!!!” Running to her side, he lifted her head up as his breathing hitched and grew unstable. He felt like he was being choked. Beneath her hair was a tranquilizer filled with a foggy substance, and he yanked out and threw it across the room. His fingers ran over her pulse as he checked, praying- praying the fucking gods above for the sanctity of this situation. “Y/N please! How could i have let this happen?” He cried upon no pulse. He urgently picked her up in his arms and teleported to the SS base where Johnny and Cassie were per usual- and upon his arrival, they were quick to hear of his presence.

Y/N had quickly been taken into their poison control and as Raiden stood by her side and learned there was nothing they could do to being her back, it was so clear to see how the color had drained off of him.

“That is all?” He asked distaughtly, his eyes not even being able to focus on anything. “There is nothing to be done?”

Raiden obviously knew the answers. He had been around and seen it happen for millions of years but this mortal- this woman- was something that had exceeded all his expirences and knowledge together. He never knew he could love someone as much as this woman who now lay lifeless with a bag over her. This is what he remembers warning his brother about before entering Earthrealm. He remembers warning him of the dangers of falling in love or getting too close. Yet in the end, he had tasted the feeling love brings and had felt incredible loss his mind was not capable of comprehending.

Now, he no longer had a reason to care for those who inflict pain on Earthrealm and their inhabitants.

And with how he let his wife die, he no longer cares for himself either.

#mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat #mk x reader #reader insert #mk mortal kombat #mortal kombat x #mk10 #mk11 #mkx mortal kombat x #raiden x you #raiden x y/n #raiden x reader #mk raiden #mortal kombat raiden #sad :(

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embe95 · 1 year

Text

Can we continue, please?

Synopsis: "Can we keep learning the choreography, please?" It was a bad idea then, it's still a bad idea now. But sure, why not?

First time writing smut, very strange feeling publishing it. Oh well, it was a fun challenge. CW below the cut! This is sort of a part two to Teach me, please, but can totally be read separately.

Word count: around 4500 (mhmmmmmm okay, how?)

This story includes an AFAB reader, a pet name (angel), oral (f and m receiving), sex without condom (nope, do not do it), just two very horny people aaaand let me know if I missed something.

ˆˆˆˆˆˆˆˆˆˆˆˆˆˆˆˆˆˆˆˆˆˆˆˆˆˆˆˆˆˆˆˆˆˆˆˆˆˆˆˆˆˆˆ

It wasn't like she was some horny little kitten who couldn't stay professional, but the what if's just wouldn't stop bombarding her. Their impact was so hard her eyelids kept bouncing.

His tongue running along her jawline, hands caressing her sides and then gripping her like a vice, hard and greedy. The anguished, starved breaths, the beautiful black hair dripping with sweat. He would've fucked her so hard. His tongue would've been magic between her lips and legs. He would feel just... so good.

No sleep tonight then... oh well. Maybe not being able to see straight would help her steer clear of Hyunjin's eyes.

Morning crept in through the windows, and Y/N crawled out of bed with a string of sighs and curses. I'll be fine, let's just get to work. There are eight of them, it's not like we'll be alone.

A few miles away, an equally disheveled man sat on his floor, staring at the light climbing on the wall of his room in the very spot he'd inhabited for he didn't know how long. The thought of skipping practice rarely crossed his mind, if ever, but maybe, just maybe, today of all days he'd suddenly come down with a cold or headache and wouldn't be able to make it. How could he hide what they'd done, what he wanted to do again, from his brothers, the ones who knew him best? They'd see right through him.

And what would he even wear? The t-shirt he'd worn on that fateful night still smelled like Y/N, the scent overtook him as he brought it close to his nose. It wasn't unwashed on purpose, he just hadn't gotten around to it. It's heavenly...

She would feel so good around me, taking me. She'd taste amazing, I'm sure of it.

Hyunjin groaned at the thought, equally frustrated and turned on.

They wouldn't be angry, they'd be worried, for Y/N as well as him. Worried for both their jobs, mostly hers, and Chan would be nervous because of the rule-breaking in general. They'd understand, but what if they'd ask her to not work with them anymore? They'd tell him they'll help him get over it.

The thought made Hyunjin's forehead tighten. What if he didn't want to get over it? Who were they to decide for him?

The sunlight was harsh on her eyes, sunglasses would've been a life saver. Unfortunately, the only ones in sight were worn by the one person Y/N had been dreading and craving to see. Y/N's feet paused. So did Hyunjin's.

So. pretty... Stop it. Just get inside.

They collided by the main entrance, coming face to face from opposite directions as their daily routes dictated.

"Annyeong-haseyo," Hyunjin said stiffly with a polite nod.

"Annyeong-haseyo."

The politeness level was unnecessary, but simultaneously it served as an indicator to both of what the tone would be today.

Minho joined them in the elevator, pushing the doors open with a toned-down version of his irritated look due to the fact that his pleas to hold. The. Fucking. Door were totally ignored by the two inside.

"Ah, kure," he mumbled along with some curse words.

"Mian-heyo," Y/N stuttered softly. Minho's gaze eased up and he nodded before asking Hyunjin about lunch plans in Korean. Minho and Jeongin were the shyest when it came to using English around her, but they could communicate well enough. Minho always beamed when she spoke Korean.

Chan, Felix, Seungmin, Changbin and Jeongin had already arrived, the room was alive with excitement and warmth. Hyunjin's hand ghosted the lower back of the beautiful woman he wanted to bend over a table as they entered, impressed with how he controlled himself yet terrified of what situations the day would bring. Jisung ran in as the clock struck nine, hair a mess and his hoodie on backwards.

The practice went well, the day glided by with a few hiccups. The fear of the members finding out made their choreographer jumpier than usual, which in turn resulted in silly mistakes she would repeat in her mind well into her deathbed. Confusing left and right, and mixing up Felix and Chan and Minho and Jisung more than once gave way to every shade of red to paint her cheeks and ears.

Hyunjin's shirt lifted while doing a jump and she nearly had an aneurysm.

Hyunjin fared slightly better, but found himself stopping and staring so often he now felt his own dance style morphing into hers, that's how intently he followed her nuances and accents. His blood froze every time he noticed her nervousness, but then it melted and rushed down when he remembered she'd rolled that particular way against him during their private practice.

"Hey, you alright?" Chan patted Y/N's shoulder affectionately. Kind as always. "You did good, okay? The choreo is perfect. Thanks for hearing us out with the chorus."

"Of course!" Y/N sighed while packing her bag. "I love getting your input, it makes sense to me on every level."

The leader grinned but then furrowed his brows as their gazes met.

"You okay?"

A mumble didn't seem to suffice like she was used to when it came to "work friends". The furrowed brows climbed high.

"Just tired, I'm alright. Sorry for messing up so much."

"Naur, you're good, don't worry. We all have those days."

She lifted her almost-empty bottle to her lips.

"Hyunjin's having one of them, too."

The cough attack caused by the water in her windpipe made everyone fix their eyes on her. Hyunjin's first instinct was to cradle her face to check if she was okay, it was fortunate the whole group reacted so his little ”ya” went unnoticed.

”You good?” Chan quizzed after gently patting her upper back with an open palm. Y/N croaked a small confirmation that she was indeed fine, but one peek at Hyunjin made her want to dig a hole through the floor. Although, logical thinking would dictate that him being put off wouldn’t be the worst thing.

There was no logical thinking present in the grey matter in her skull, however, which was further proved when she replied ”yes” when Hyunjin quietly asked if she wanted to stay behind with him.

I have to prove to myself that I can do this. He’s my friend, and my colleague… I have to be able to do this. I just have to.

"Can we continue the choreography, please?” Mr. Hwang’s sweet accent spoke as the door closed behind Felix. The members didn’t think much of either of the diligent dance lovers continuing practice, though Minho had scolded them both for not coming to eat.

”Yeah, sure!” she over-enthusiastically enunciated before awkwardly tiptoeing her way to the speaker. Without much thought, she put on her warm up playlist and returned to the centre, beginning a movement, some movement, any movement.

This is a bad idea. Once again, it is a bad idea.

The air in the room weighed them both down, the tension floating from floor to ceiling felt like a humid fog.

There were lines that they had already crossed, but both knew they still very much existed. Stomping all over them made them no less bright and blazing, the "TABOO" and "STOP" signs would've made any sensible pair not make the decision they made that fateful day.

If I kiss her now, who would know? Grab her waist and flip her around, take her hand and pull her to the dressing rooms. Hyunjin stared at her back, the gorgeous curve of her hips, the strong thighs that made her bounce as she danced. If she'd let me... god, I wish she'd let me.

"Hyunjin, are you okay?"

He hadn't noticed she had paused to stare at him through the mirror. His black hair moved slightly as he nodded, most of it decorating his neck and forehead tightly. Everything was turning intentional, even more so than before. He considered each motion, each blink, each clench of his jaw and each slow swallow. Maybe she'd notice.

She did.

But dancing is enough, it has to be enough.

"Yes, I'm good. All warmed up."

"Okay," Y/N nodded. ”Let’s begin.”

"Should we do the magnet-"

"No!"

The man jumped.

"Sorry! I, uh, think we should just continue the choreography." She did her best to soften her gaze while still keeping her distance. Those eyes were an endless, very forbidden adventure she wasn't allowed to venture on, no matter how big the craving nestled in her chest was. He saw her consoling look and accepted it, disappointed but understanding of the position they were in. Just two steps and he'd be close enough to touch her. To better dance with her, of course.

The contrast between what they had to do and what they wanted to do was the most irritating thing on the planet, but there was no getting around it. It was like their eyes were locked together, senses heightened, intents clear, but a wall of glass separated them. Like they could touch but they'd always burn each other, like some deities somewhere had decided to use them as puppets in some sick game or test of human character and the nature of lust. Burning had never felt so desirable. Each time Y/N directed Hyunjin's hands somewhere to touch her, her body jerked, battling whether to flinch away or moan.

And yet, somehow, they managed to keep going, both determined to stay close and prove they could do so without taking it further. The day turned to evening, the building emptying while the two ignored the clock completely.

"Good, a little to the left. Then five, six and seven and eight," she counted, moved and he followed. Arms up, arms down, arms around one another. "Yeah, then slide them down and spread your fingers," she continued, teacher mode once again activated which was a blessing in the moment. She was almost blind and deaf to Hyunjin's reactions because her entire focus was on getting the steps and placements correctly. "Ye- Not that low."

"Sorry."

"There you go. Then one, two and three, I'll arch down."

Hyunjin's eyes opened to the max as he felt her strong back muscles tense against his hands, her lower abdomen pressed against his sweats and that appetizing neck framed by her collarbones stretching so far his view through the mirror was perfect.

"Aaaand four," she slid back up expertly. The pause when their eyes met sucked Y/N out of her professional settings.

Look away... just look away. JESUS, DO IT NOW.

"And then?" Hyunjin cleared his throat.

"I... You hop back, left then right hitting five and, on six throw both hands down as if you've just washed them- there you go, yeah. And I'll head to the floor."

Her knees collided with the floor skillfully, followed by her bending down onto her back. Hyunjin followed her as she instructed, and when the time came for him to pull her up and their skin connected, fingers tangling, they both felt something shift, very similar to last time. A crossroads, so dangerous and inviting.

"Then I..." Y/N whispered, moving a trembling hand up his torso as she slowly stood, the other still entwined with his long, slender digits. Hyunjin remembered this part, having watched his hyung do it. He was waiting for it, praying for it.

"Please, don't stop," he pleaded in a whisper, mouth next to her ear, shivering from anticipation. "I want you."

"Hyunjin-"

"I'll protect you."

His hands slid to her hips, pulling her closer, emphasized by a beat from the song. He was so hard against her thigh she had to swallow to keep the saliva from escaping the corners of her mouth.

"What if-"

"I promise."

"Wasn't dancing together supposed to be enough?" Y/N's voice was breathless, the question floated in the millimeter of air still between them. It could have been teasing, a taunt, an incredulous exclamation, a plea, a reminder. Instead, it worked as something of a final spark for the powder keg that was their otherworldly attraction towards one another.

"Is it?"

They stared, both coming to a decision simultaneously.

Fuck it.

The first touch was primal, just like the first time their lips had come into contact. The pace seemed like they were trying to make up for every second they hadn't been kissing. They were trying to suck out each other's breath, to reach whatever it was that made the other so irresistible. One step at a time, clumsy and stumbling, a stark contrast to what could've been expected of two professional dancers, they traveled to the only soft piece of furniture in the room.

"Christ," Y/N sighed contently as Hyunjin began grinding his hips against her core after her figure was spread on the couch, on the very spot she'd stopped this very event just a week prior. This time she wouldn't be the one to stop it.

He spoke something in Korean and she could only pray it was something beautiful. The only word she understood was "woman".

Hyunjin was incredulous, how did he get this lucky? A woman like this, so sexy, talented and strong was suddenly underneath him, allowing him to touch her. He hoped she understood how much he wanted this, how much he appreciated this, the fact she was jeopardizing something important just to give him this moment even though he couldn't express it. He felt perfect, complete drowning in this moment in all its forbidden nature. This time he wouldn't stop unless she asked him to.

"Jin," she whispered, the memory of his reaction to the nickname crystal clear in her head. It was now even greater, if possible. He moaned deeply before thanking her by sliding his tongue into her mouth.

"Again," he panted, grinding against her with more intensity.

She repeated the syllable earnestly, happy to give him anything he wanted. "Jin, please."

"What, angel?"

Her already melted self turned into a flattered puddle right there and then. Angel? Hyunjin's hands roamed her torso, and his left finally found her chest. He felt her nipples prick through the shirt and smirked, pleased with the content sigh that escaped her mouth.

"Off," he mumbled against her neck. She obliged, maneuvering the fabric over her head as smoothly as she could with the little space he let her have. Each moment his lips weren't on her skin felt like a waste, so he followed the route her shirt traveled eagerly, cock throbbing and fingers eager. She was gorgeous, athletic, and her black sports bra had a zipper in the front, one she slowly opened for his viewing pleasure. Her breasts remained hidden beneath the fabric until Hyunjin reached them, hungrily planting kisses as his long digits moved to finally see her fully. The awe he felt was unmatched.

Thank you, thank you, thank you. Just for me, only for me. My angel. Just us, finally alone.

He froze before looking up at the corner of the room. The little black sphere stared back at him.

”Come, angel,” he spoke with haste, taking both her hands and guiding her to stand. He stood in front of her, back to the surveillance camera, taking advantage of their height difference to protect her. She was dumbfounded by the interruption and annoyed at the sudden lack of intimacy, feeling like a child whose candy had been stolen. The situation was risky enough, why the sudden panic? Had he changed his mind?

”Hyunjin, what is it?” her voice bounced as he pulled her toward the door. He flinched when the nickname he’d just received disappeared, but there was time to get it back.

Just somewhere more private.

Hyunjin had looked for privacy before, whether it was to just be alone, to cry, to handle himself when he got a hard on. He found it ages ago.

There was a blind spot in the locker room, right by the showers. He’d make it work, he’d shared it before. Not like this though, never like this. Y/N seemed to have understood the problem and let him lead her without any follow-up questions, anything to cut this delay as short as possible. Going to either of their homes would take too long, not to mention being spotted was out of the question. Going home would create a risk of second-guessing or worse, make things more romantic and personal.

Let's just fuck once and get it out of our system.

"Here is safe."

"Good."

Y/N leaned against the wall and pulled Hyunjin to her, making a right hassle of kissing him with passion while trying to finally, finally get his shirt off and get to see his toned torso. Her flailing died down when the clothing hit the floor.

The only light in the room came from the window on the wall left of them. It created a delicate play of shadow and light on Hyunjin's features, and he noticed the same artwork painting her.

I want to paint her.

"You are beautiful," she mumbled, running her fingers across his abs. He remained serious and put her chin between his thumb and index finger. The simple motion made her clench around nothing. It was turning romantic. He was obviously romantic.

"You are an angel," he sighed before leaning in for a deep kiss. Slowly but confidently he let his right hand slide down to cup her heat. She whimpered. "So pretty. Perfect."

The way he pronounced the words, the way he began applying pressure, the way he was staring into her, it was all so much. They moaned into each other as Y/N decided to return the favour by stroking his length through his sweats. It only lasted a moment before Hyunjin had to stop her, hand flying to her wrist. He didn't know how to explain the reason properly in English though he desperately wanted to. He wanted to last, but with the way he was throbbing and the way even the lightest touches from his angel felt like heaven... he wouldn't. He needed time.

"Too much," he whispered, lips still touching hers as they moved. His gaze lifted.

"Can I...taste you before... I fuck you?"

Good god, that mouth. How can I say no?

"Yes, Jin."

His tongue was on her clit in less than a minute, her sweats now pooled at her feet along with her thong. His hands were secured around her thick thighs, holding on with so much excitement she felt his desire through each spot where their skin was connected.

"Fuck, Jin! Yes, please, don't stop... please, FUCK!"

He slid two fingers inside, curling them gently against her g-spot.

My angel tastes so perfect.

His residency between her legs was one he never wanted to leave, while her lips were ambrosia, her juices were like nectar, a concoction unlike anything he'd ever tasted. The only reason he'd leave was because he promised to fuck her afterwards. Another sensation he was sure would be worth the wait after longing for this moment with her for weeks on end.

She tangled her fingers in his silky, sweaty black locks and tugged, emphasizing her moans and twitching thighs.

He sped up his fingers, lips latching onto her clit fully, sucking hard.

How the fuck is he so good at every fucking thi-

"Jinnie, god- fuck! YES! Keep going keep going keep- please, oh- oh god-I-I'm cumming!"

He looked up at her with so much adoration she was about to lose consciousness, praying for her brain to keep this image forever. He gently licked her folds, digits slowing down to help her ride out the orgasm. His intentions were also selfish, because he wanted to keep devouring her and relish the flavour as long as he could.

"Thank you," she sighed and smiled while stroking his hair. He climbed to his feet. The tent in his sweats was as prominent as ever.

"My turn," Y/N kept smiling as she switched their positions by taking his shoulders and gently pushing his fit figure against the wall. As much as she craved to have him inside her, the opportunity to taste him was too tempting to pass. Since they were only going to do this once, they might as well do everything possible. And it felt fair, the orgasm he just gave her was earth-shattering.

It took the black-haired man a moment to register what she was referring to, but as she began descending to her knees the intent became crystal clear.

Hyunjin stopped her and lifted her back up, slamming his lips to her neck.

"No, thank you... I need you."

Realization hit, disappointment sneaking in.

"But I don't have-"

"It's okay."

He stared at her. Y/N's arms slid around his neck and pulled him close.

"Are you going to fuck me now?" she moaned, earning a growl from him before he flipped them back around, continuing the dance. Y/N's hands flew to pull down Hyunjin's pants to help him shimmy out of them. She took a moment to admire him, finally seeing him fully, so fit and lean, dance-molded muscles all warm and flexed. His cock was impressive, slightly curved and thick.

"Yes, angel. I am. Are you ready for me?"

He lifted her with ease, the surprising show of strength raising her anticipation through the roof. Lined with her entrance, cock twitching and ready, Hyunjin looked into her eyes.

"I adore you, angel."

He slammed into her. The world exploded.

He fucked up into her with a strong, persistent pace.

"Yes, Jin, fuck... y-you feel so. good."

Please, don't ever let this end. If this is the first and only time, please let it last forever.

"Angel...fuck- so warm..."

And then the word just slipped out. He wasn't sure what he meant, what he wanted, was it his possessive side taking control. But in that moment nothing else mattered, not his work, who might find out, nothing. Having sex with her cleared his brain of all else.

"Mine... mine...."

"Yes, Jinnie- ah... fuck- all yours..."

It just slipped out. She didn't even pause with her reply. Fucking him just felt so good, the most perfect form of escapism she'd ever encountered. Screw everything else. Her second orgasm of the night was flooding in fast.

”Cum, angel. Do it.”

Hyunjin felt her pussy clenching around him and began pistoling into her. He was determined to get her to come again. Maybe this wouldn't have to be the first and last time.

"C-Cumming... fuck-"

"Touch yourself."

As soon as she pinched her clit between her fingers, she came completely undone around her forbidden lover's length happily, without a care in the world.

"God, that was... woah..."

Their foreheads were pressed together, sweat acting like glue. Hyunjin's eyes were wide and full of lust, mesmerizing and dangerous as ever. A siren. Her pussy fluttered around him, and he felt his climax was close. She knew it too and saw her opportunity.

She shoved him backward gently, feeling empty when he slipped out but she had no time to waste on those thoughts while on this mission. Her knees hit the floor and she took his length into her eager mouth quickly. The mix of his pre-cum with her own juices coated her tongue.

The moan that echoed in the room was melodical. Hyunjin's hands hit the wall, and as soon as his cock hit the back of his angel's throat he came. Hard. Korean curses fell from his mouth.

Thank you, thank you, thank you.

There was a moment of panic that he'd made her uncomfortable because he gave no warning. He couldn't believe his eyes or his luck when he watched her swallow every single drop, happily licking her lips and looking up at him.

Okay, now I can die happily.

Two sweaty, satisfied dancers got dressed in the dark room, chuckling every now and again due to nerves and disbelief. Reality was hitting them. What if someone heard? What if someone was still here? What if they'd added new cameras? What if they can't keep working together? What if the members find out? What if this was a mistake?

Why did the mistake feel so good?

"Dancing is enough, huh?" Y/N huffed when they sat side by side against the wall.

Hyunjin laughed. His eyes landed on her slender fingers that rested close to his. He wanted to hold her hand, hold her.

"Angel," he whispered and tentatively placed his index finger on hers. She snapped her eyes down, hesitated for a moment and then joined their hands.

They sat like that for a good while, both coming down and trying to make sense of what just happened.

What now?

They repeated the same route as last time; left the room together only to part at the front entrance with a courteous smile.

She felt like breaking the pavement and digging a hole to crawl into when they separated just to stop this tsunami of questions and emotions. While she loved her job and wanted to hold on to it, she also wanted to hold onto Hyunjin. Romantic, hot, talented, strong, sex-god Hyunjin. That felt so easy, the only consequence was her feeling satisfied after two orgasms. Well, that she knew of. Now she'd have to spend her days scared of getting the call to meet with the executive or something.

But there was no going back, no way to cancel what had been done. They had sex. And she did want to do it again if possible, no matter how stupid and reckless it was. How can two people be so balanced with one another? There was no fight for dominance, only shared desire and need. Just like when they danced together. It was unlike anything she'd ever felt, the connection, the adoration, the shared respect. If they'd keep going she'd love to introduce him to her submissive side. But that was the perfect first time. And last. Right.

His career shouldn't be jeopardized because she wanted sex. She shouldn't jeopardize her own either.

However, the addiction had started, beginning with the gateway make out session before plunging straight into the harder, stronger fix. Could they be alright, knowing what could be? Alright having shared this one time, just holding on to the memory of it?

Hyunjin turned to look at her as she walked away. His angel. Would he ever be allowed to call her that again? He couldn't risk her job. There was a confidence in him that his career would be fine, maybe he’s get a slap on the wrist. This wasn't unheard of within the company nor big enough to get him fired. He was worried for her. She loved to dance, she was brilliant at it, the members enjoyed their collaboration as did the other groups.

But what just happened was amazing. Addictive. If she asked, he'd leap at the chance to keep going. Hell, the way he was feeling he'd do anything for her. But the ball was in her corner now. She decides. And he'll be fine with whatever she decides. No matter how much it hurts.

Y/N sat on her bed, staring at the light disappearing from her room as the sun set.

A few miles away, Hyunjin did the same.

They still hadn't finished the choreography. Maybe tomorrow?

#stray kids hyunjin #stray kids #skz #stray kids fanfic #hwang hyunjin #hwang hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin imagines #stray kids imagines #hyunjin smut #skz smut #stray kids smut #stray kids x reader #stray kids oneshot #hyunjin

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radiokathryn-if · 6 months

Text

ALL ROs asks

Facts About the ROs! [ here ]

ROs sexualities! [ here ]

ROs fashion/style +pictures! [ here ]

ROs and spooning! [ here ]

RO love languages! [ here ]

Do the ROs believe in love at first sight? What do they look for in a relationship? [ here ]

ROs temper? [ here ]

ROs and flirting [ here ]

ROs and experience──sexual and romantic! [ here ]

Angst levels of each Romance? [ here ]

ROs and blushing! [ here ]

ROs opinions of the MC? [ here ]

ROs when MC is disassociating and reaches out to touch them/grab their hand? [ here ]

Crushing ROs/ ROs in love. [ here ]

ROs and jealousy! [ here ]

ROs react, in relationship stage, to MC accidentally introducing them as their spouse? [ here ]

How possessive are the ROs? [ here ]

What do the ROs kiss like? [ here ]

ROs ideal date? [ here ]

ROs and marriage/kids? [ here ]

are the ROs a thighs/boobs/ass person? [ here ]

ROs favourite insults/curse words! [ here ]

ROs react to an MC arguing with tension with Nate? [ here ]

What the ROs want to hear/dread to hear/need to hear? [ here ]

ROs react to seeing that Nate's latest Conquest Jewellery is something of MCs. [ here ]

ROs favourite take aways? [ here ]

ROs favourite season? [ here ]

ROs as "You Came"/"You Called" [ here ]

ROs and an MC who can sing+write songs! [ here ]

ROs and MBTI types [ here ]

ROs and the Red String Of Fate +a lil tangent from me [ here ]

RO political views? [ here ]

ROs as the seven deadly sins! [ here ]

ROs as the seven heavenly virtues! [ here ]

What the ROs look for in a partner? [ here ]

Crushing!stage MC 'proposes' with a ring pop! [ here ]

ROs as weather, aesthetically [ here ]

ROs dark triad scores [ here ]

ROs with a low self esteem MC [ here ]

ROs favourite type of cookie? [ here ]

How resistant are the ROs to MCs puppy eyes? [ here ]

NSFW! ROs preferences in bed+ROs kinks [ here ]

ROs playing Monopoly +my ramblings about the game [ here ]

#radio kathryn if #all ros

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umbra-borealis · 2 months

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Elements of Chaos Chapter 1 - The first 2K words!

This is the first 2000 or so words from a draft I'm chipping away at, the very beginning of Elements of Chaos. I apologize for the lengthy build up but hey, I did say this was a long haul project! By the way, this is my first time writing something. My first language is dutch, not english, and to top that off I also have ADHD so this isn't exactly a walk in the park. At the moment I'm not exactly looking for people picking apart my grammar, syntax etc. because I have folks I can ask for advice on that. Be nice, thank you! CW: Minor mention of blood

How would you define Chaos?

Would you say it's the unpredictable nature of life itself? How a single drop of water will never take the same route down twice? Does it stand for a time of stress and turmoil? Is it this nebulous state we all find ourselves living in or is there an opposite? An element that binds it, understands it, tames it? And if there is, what would that be called? Order? Control? The fabled ‘red string of fate’ that strings us along, having already decided who sinks and who swims?

Perhaps none of these things matter in the end. After all most of us will go through the motions without ever really having the time or the energy to ponder the way of the world, not to mention the universe around us. Perhaps as we experience our lives our opinion will change and so will our answers, forever having the truth feel just out of reach, so close yet so far away. Then perhaps it’s better to stay in the moment and act accordingly, forever left to wonder if you did so by yourself, or if that too was a pre-written event scripted to happen from the moment you were born. They say ignorance is bliss but is it really? Are we truly free? Are you comfortable floating down a pre-determined river or did any of this make make you long for the endless open ocean?

So then tell me...

“Whose side are you on!?”

A voice screamed into the darkness, birds and other small fauna jumping, flying and running off into all directions. The full moon cast her dim glow upon the land below. Her image reflected on the surface of the water as it warped and twisted with the waves. A once beautiful lake surrounded by plains, hills and even a forest off in the distance had become the main stage for a grizzly scene. The immaculate green of the grass had been tainted with the deep red hue of blood, entire patches and trails uprooted making the field appear scarred and bleeding. There’s a tension in the air so dense, so charged with dread and danger that not only those present here and now but those from miles away could sense it. A shift in the atmosphere so severe it couldn’t be compared to an approaching thunderstorm or the early signs of an earthquake. The voice that had posed the question rather aggressively now snarled and with a wave of its owner’s hand the water from the lake behind him rose up, curling forward and threatening to come crashing down on whoever happened to be a bit too close to shore yet at it’s highest peak it stopped.

The silhouette of a hedgehog now stood out against the glistening backdrop of water, the light of the moon seemingly amplified by the reflective surface. He held his hand up above is head, palm open as if about to strike something or someone but instead he just stood there, still as a statue. His eyes pierced straight into those of his attackers, nailing them to their places only a few feet away from him. Heavily armored in white, high-tech protective gear from head to toe and with weapons drawn they kept their aim at the outlaw’s head and chest with possibly a few skilled, or cocky, marksmen planning to switch to the legs should he decide to turn tail and run. Unfortunately for them he had no intention to run.

“I’ll ask you again, nicely, whose side are you on? Because that insignia on your armor says mine, but those guns sure don’t. So what’s it gonna be boys?”

The lone hedgehog’s voice was full of rage though masked by the smug tone he was infamous for. A crack here and there gave away the layer of fatigue building below the surface though and he wasn’t too keen on giving it any more room to breathe or the consequences could be dire. A minute passed though to everyone present it felt like an eternity and when he was given no answer his hand twitched.

“What about you?”

One of the armed ‘knights’ as they liked to call themselves spoke up. A ballsy move sure but perhaps humoring the hedgehog’s ego would be their best chance of survival right now.

“You know what you did! You know why we’re here! At least tell us why!”

Icy blue eyes narrowed at the poor bastard who dared raise his voice at the outlaw whose arm had frozen in place one more. The audacity one had to have to make bold claims like that were one thing and he wasn’t sure whether to laugh or get even angrier than he already was, but to ask a man for a reason for something he has no memory of doing? Now that hit him funny.

“Ooooh but of course. Dad croaked and suddenly that’s my fault. For all the funding he put into your dinky little excuse of an ‘elite force’ you guys suck at your jobs. You really think if I had anything to do with it I wouldn’t take all of the credit?”

It was true and the Knights knew it. Their adversary was a known critic of the king, of his father but if he had anything to do with the act of regicide that shocked their nation mere days ago it would be him who would celebrate with a beer and mourn the fact he can’t dance on his grave. No, instead the former prince had kept his head down. It was so unlike him to do so it didn’t make him any less suspicious to some, but to those who really knew the young man it just didn’t add up. Why would a prince who had fallen from grace, stripped of all his titles and possessions and forced to live on the streets of his home city suddenly appear humbled by the whole experience? After all he had spent all of those years on the streets devoted to dismantling the monarchy with all of the knowledge he held on his own family. Murder was not part of the plan though, it would’ve been too easy and too simple. It would mean giving his deadbeat father an easy get-out-of-jail-free card which he didn’t deserve. No, the former prince wouldn’t have gone so far as to use a prototype warp ring despite all of it’s potential consequences if it had been him who did the honors. He would’ve accepted jail, or even execution with that same smug grin and proudly proclaim he did his kingdom, his people, a massive favor.

It mattered little now, the deed was done and the culprit was out there. The former prince wasn’t necessarily a suspect, just damage control. If this really was a coup on the throne by some outside force it made complete sense to him that he too would be a target. As the last heir currently known to be alive, even if bound to the throne only by blood, he posed a threat to whatever or whoever is behind all of this. The hedgehog had heard enough and made his choice, he would drown them all in the depths of the abyss if it meant his freedom, it being a punishment for their insubordination would just be a nice bonus. One wave of his outstretched claws and this whole mess would be washed away--

Just as his hand twitched he heard it, they all did. A deep rumbling, rumbling that grew louder as the ground shook, throwing everyone off balance. Instead of a focused tidal wave the water crashed down on everyone, merely causing confusion and panic. Rather than his attackers being dragged down into the water they would merely get their armor soaked and their vision temporarily obscured. The captain yelled out an order to fire at will and fire they did, forcing the stumbling hedgehog to bolt out of the line of fire. With the ground still shaking it was as hard for him to run as it for them to aim but he still had to try for getting hit with a bolt from their plasma rays would mean getting a hole burnt right through him. He’d never been more grateful for a boulder than he was now as he skidded across the wet grass and came to a stop behind it, crouching and making himself as small as possible. With a moment to think of a next move something stood out to him about this mysterious earthquake. An earthquake normally affects a large area, the lake water should be rippling but it barely even stirred. The rumbling and the distant yelling of the knights was like an awful white noise ringing in his ears, vague orders were being barked to find their target despite the chaos and he was running out of time. The outlaw weighed his options which were to either bolt and run or to stay and wait as something told him this seemingly sudden and highly unnatural earthquake might be the answer to his predicament. Each excruciating second he remained frozen in place, unable to make a decision and with adrenaline surging his heightened senses picked up on the detail that told his intuition to stay. The rumbling of the ground moved. It’s intensity shifted as it seemingly came from beyond the lake, passing underneath the hedgehog and made it’s way to where the team of elite knights were still trying to gather their bearings. Whatever was heading their way could’ve very well heard the noise and commotion and felt drawn to investigate, or worse, it felt threatened. He didn’t dare to take a peek and instead hoped he would hear an opening instead.

And an opening sure did come.

The ground below the captain himself split apart and before he could aim his weapon down or take a step back a blur of gold came right for the visor of his protective helmet that obscured his identity. The frightened yelp finally made the hedgehog move to take a peek at what was going on, too curious for his own good. The mystery gold object would become lodged in the captain’s visor before it could damage anything vital but the person attached to the pair of golden claws that struck him wasn’t finished. They popped out of the ground almost as easily as a fish leaping out of the water and the gap they came out of closed in just a second, giving the unknown assailant solid ground to stand on. They were big, not just tall, BIG, a solid red silhouette illuminated by violet geometric markings on their head and face which emitted a soft glow. Their enraged growl almost sounding like the earthquake from before as they turned to spin the poor canine still stuck to the golden claws that adorned the figure’s balled up fists, dragging him along and off his feet before flinging him up into the air. The rest of the knights were too frightened to move, let alone snap out of it enough to start firing at their new target and they watched their ‘fearsome’ leader make contact with the dirt like a sack of potatoes.

All of their heads snapped back to fix their gaze on the red stranger who cracked their knuckles and roared something unintelligible before charging straight at them. The silence of the awe struck knights broken by gunfire and angry war cries. Curious how bringing hand to hand combat to a gunfight would fare for the stranger the hedgehog stared intently. They moved like a well oiled machine, disarming those that clung to their weapon for dear life, snapping their guns in half like they were twigs, straight up butting their head against the metallic helmets if their hands were occupied and while the knights crumpled they seemed completely unaffected. As the battle raged on the lone hedgehog figured now was his chance to turn tail and run but as he turned his back on the battlefield a hand slipped over his muzzle, covering his mouth and muffling the yelp of surprise that followed. Blue eyes met an emerald green pair as yet another stranger held up his index finger to his own muzzle, the universal signal to tell someone to be quiet. As the loner took another good look it appeared he was no longer the only hedgehog here as this new stranger was a deep, vibrant blue all over. He could practically disappear against the night sky if it wasn’t for the short peachy fur covering his muzzle, arms and chest. Before he could get a better look the blue stranger whispered.

“Can you run?”

Whether this person was friend or foe would have to wait. For now the outlaw would take his chance and nodded.

“Then run with me and don’t look back. He’ll be fine. Trust me.”

That voice. If he didn’t know better this blue stranger sounded so much like him though he lacked the signature gravelly sound. While his thoughts raced the blue hedgehog removed his hand from the outlaw’s muzzle and firmly grasped his hand instead to help him to his feet and start running into the darkness.

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic au #sonic alternate universe #scourge the hedgehog #knuckles the echidna #chaos elements au #cw blood

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