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chococolte · 1 month

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Your sagau zhongli is my fave! Devotion is soooo good he's so good!! If he were offered a reward, what would he ask for? He definitely deserves good things for being such a dedicated worshipper

word count. 1.6k

୨୧ — ꒰ cw. yandere, unhealthy relationships, possessive & obsessive thoughts/behaviors, sagau + cult au shit, religious themes, g/n reader.

୨୧ — ꒰ a/n. hi guys......... sorry i took so long to write this, and im so happy you like my characterization of him!!!! it means so much to me!!!

Your praise.

Zhongli has rarely ever wanted.

When he was young, still arrogant and born of war, Zhongli didn't want— he took. He had no need of envy or desire. What he could not have, he would get in time. Immortality comes with an infinite patience.

If he was still that god, flippant and self-important, maybe he would demand some sort of compensation. Some sort of recompense for past agony.

For as long as Zhongli's lived, he has never wanted; not in the way a mortal yearns for their lover, or the way a dog longs for its owner until it whines. Never in any way that mattered, never before he met you.

Zhongli has had eons to become used to the loneliness that so often encompasses him. And now, knowing that you breathe the same air as him, he's become rather acquainted with the ever consuming desire to nestle close to you, like ink caressing every pore of canvas.

His desire runs through him— barking and loud, rapid and frantic— but when faced with you, a whisper, whimpering in the dark crevices of his ribs. At times, he comes close to asking you to hold him, but decorum and propriety keep him in place, tight and tense.

Liyue was built knowing your gaze followed him. Its foundations set, earth molded, and its rivers bent, hoping they would be fit to your liking. His every breath spent chasing after your favor, desiring to be remade in your image, to be exactly what you want him to be. Afraid that, when finally met with you, you will not like what you see.

Zhongli has rarely ever wanted, and rarer still, has he ever feared.

It's a mortal's fear. The fear of their lord displeased with their harvest. A boyish fear, made up of desperation and the fear of disapproval; one he shouldn't feel, one he should feel no familiarity with. One he suspects many have felt when within his own presence.

When you ask him what he would like in return for all of his efforts— a reward, you say— Zhongli feels his breath seized from him.

Zhongli lived much of his early life against you. At every opportunity, he rebelled at what he thought was a cruel god. Imperious and charged with Guizhong’s death, he would have demanded answers.

For him to have lived while those he cared for perished without a moment's repose, for him to have survived every moment of cruel war when each breath was like a whip against his lungs— he deserved to know, if you were as real as Guizhong so staunchly believed, why he had lived in her place.

Yet, despite centuries of tempered rage, Zhongli has become content to live as nothing more than your servant.

He tells you he wants for nothing. That all he desires now is the simplicity of being beside you; the escape of your laughter, where there's no need to concern himself with anything other than you. He tells you he only wishes to know how to take care of you better, how to align himself with your tastes and desires.

"I insist," you say, and Zhongli realizes it's a command. His mouth turns dry, and every word settles on his tongue like heavy weights, dead and still.

You stare, and his breath hitches, his heart a swell in his chest. Zhongli thinks of every answer, how your reaction to any could either breathe life into him, or leave him broken. How, for a moment, he amuses himself with the idea of asking for your touch— the cusp of your palm on his cheek, your fingers against his spine; how he could ask, and how you might favor him enough to do so.

He then thinks of asking you for reassurance. For affirmation of forgiveness for the actions in his youth. To finally have the certainty that he hasn’t failed you, and maybe, the confirmation that you may care for him.

“Forgive me for my impropriety, Your Grace,” Zhongli begins, voice light and breathy. His hand rests on his chest, fighting the urge to dig into his skin, hoping to calm the pounding of his heart. “But… if I may, I was wondering if I had done right by you?”

You sit inertly in silence for a moment, and Zhongli wonders if it’s on purpose, some sort of punishment for daring to ask such a thing. You had no reason to reward him, and he had been blessed enough to hold your attention for longer than a moment. He had no right to ask for your thoughts, not so directly.

He thought he knew that. It was why he followed you, why he made sure your every request was completed to the highest standard. If you mentioned the taste of your tea being too bitter, or sweet, or that you’d rather he prepare something else for you entirely, he would rush to follow your word. Even if he had been the one to brew it, even if it was him who cultivated the leaves, even if he thought it would be to your liking.

All he needed was to be helpful. All he needed was you. Within you, was his salvation— within you, was love itself. Without you, the once great Lord of Geo was but a fragmented elemental wisp of energy, only ever calling your name.

A spike of adrenaline rushes through him, fear and anxiety denying any sense of hope. All he hears is the solitary sound of his heart in his ears.

“You have only ever done good by me.”

Zhongli’s heart lurches, heat rippling through his body. You say it like it's the most obvious thing in the world, and his mind feels dizzy at the implication. The ground sways, and his feet feel light.

“You deserve more than that, I think.” You step forward, and Zhongli is so lost within his own thoughts, he takes no notice of your sudden increase in proximity— but his breath still quickens, and red still coats the apples of his cheeks.

“Kneel,” you whisper, and though you say it so softly, it's as though the sky had been torn asunder with the speed he responds. Zhongli’s mind still feels far away, but he hears your orders as if spoken directly into his ear.

He drops to his knees, no care for whether he does so elegantly enough. All he can focus on is the weight of your gaze, and the way he's the only thing under it.

“Do you want me to praise you?” You trace his jawline with your finger, still speaking in a soft, unhurried tone. “Do you want me to tell you how much of a good boy you are?”

Zhongli inhales sharply, fighting every thought that screams at him to eagerly lean into your hand. He stares up at you, russet lashes fluttering and amber eyes swallowed by adoration and worship.

“Yes, Your Grace,” he whispers hoarsely.

Your thumb swipes over his lower lip, and a whine rises to the back of his throat.

“My good boy.” Zhongli’s entire body shudders, his chest heaving. A shaky breath escapes him. “You've been waiting to hear that for so long, haven't you?”

He whimpers, then nods in a way he hopes doesn’t come across as overeager— quickly bereft of any sense of propriety, or care for whether or not he’s making a fool of himself. All he can concern himself with is how close you are, how easily your scent renders him still, how quickly he borders on senseless.

You smile at that, and he bites his tongue to stop himself from whimpering.

“Do you want me to tell you how grateful I am?” Your fingers move across his neck, brushing against his Adam’s Apple, watching it bob as he gulps, trying to keep himself steady and not fall against you. “How you're my favorite?”

An ugly sound rips from Zhongli’s throat, and it's one he's instantly ashamed of. Every part of him feels bare in front of you, laid out messy and without decorum. The mask he’s worn for eons steadily breaks, and every one of his veins and bones scream out for your warmth.

The Lord of Geo wouldn’t have ever allowed himself to be so vulnerable. He never would have amused himself with the thought of pleading for anything, or kneeling and falling apart because he was treated softly— least of all, of being so desperate to know that you love him; that you favor him.

Zhongli, now without his Gnosis, is as mortal as the men he used to lord over. And perhaps it’s his newfound mortality that moves him to lean into your hand, frantically trying to meld your fingers against his skin until his flesh is like clay inlaid with your fingertips; hoping that you’ll rebuild him until he fits your desires, and tell him again that he’s proven to have done good by you.

Every thought is a prayer, another hymn, another psalm.

“Am I? Your favorite?”

His voice trembles, and breathes into a soft whisper. Zhongli doesn’t mean to sound so desperate— he doesn’t mean to be so greedy— but his soul has never felt so full before. His mind is so mired by your touch and voice that he doesn’t realize his lack of formality, or how he might come across as arrogant.

He wants only to think of you, and so he does. Nothing else matters.

“Yes.” You chuckle, and his heart speeds up at the sound, fervent. “Why would I want anyone else?”

Zhongli whines, and faintly, through the blur of fanaticism and worship, thinks that no matter what you asked of him, he would do it without hesitation.

#[🦇] — my writing #genshin impact #yandere genshin #genshin x reader #sagau #cult au #sagau zhongli #yandere zhongli #cult au zhongli #yandere zhongli x reader #yandere male #yandere male x reader #male yandere x reader #male yandere #yandere #self aware genshin au #self aware genshin #gender neutral reader

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ecstarry · 3 months

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Fic: Home

When Regulus first mentioned he was moving out of Sirius and Remus’ place, his brother insisted it wasn't necessary. But today, on his last day, Sirius couldn't hide his excitement about living alone with his boyfriend. Regulus was genuinely happy for them, though what bothered him most was leaving their cozy flat behind and getting used to a new living arrangement.

Moving out meant finding a new place and a new roommate. Regulus had enough money to live solo, but the thought of loneliness irked him more than anything. Sirius knew this, which is why an hour after Regulus announced his departure, he received a text from James Potter.

[Jamie] Come live with me

Regulus smirked at his phone. James had saved his contact with that nickname, hoping Regulus would feel guilty about being mean to him. He didn’t, but that didn't mean he wasn't growing fond of James.

[Regulus] Where are your manners, Potter? Shouldn’t you at least ask me out first?

[Jamie] You’re such a princess. I have a spare room and you need a place to live.

[Regulus] So you’re my knight in shining armor coming to my rescue then?

[Jamie] I mean, I do have the looks for it.

[Jamie] Just take the offer.

[Jamie] Don’t even try to say you don’t like my flat when I know for a FACT that you do.

[Regulus] Fine. You sure?

[Jamie] Positive, princess.

AAAAH IM SO EXCITED

Read the complete work here

Snippet of the fic based on the concept that @noasmirrorball shared

#this will be rated E so mind that #jegulus #marauders #james potter #regulus black #james x regulus #jegulus fanfiction #jegulus fanfic rec #gay dead wizards #fanfic #fanfic writer #sunseeker #starchaser #rab #jfp

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soulemissary · 2 years

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man. i've tried to tell her too that i don't want to be mothered or taken care of in the way that she is trying to do, because 1. she forces it on me and 2. her way of doing that is so frequently damaging to me that it is not helpful.

#wandertext ♡#i get uncomfortable being in the same room as her being treated like im her patient or some shit is even worse #not to mention them fucking hounding me abt my nic addiction. if y'all think that's the way to help people when they're struggling #then it is no surprise that you have no self awareness and have not come far in your own recovery.#the constant trauma projection onto me is incredibly taxing. it is not my responsibility to build myself in such a way #that i do not remind you of anyone. it is my responsibility to check my behavior and recognize when it's my actions that hurt them #or their perceptions of the situation.#it's not my job to fix your loneliness or self doubt. i have enough going on in my own day to day life #and i never agreed to be your in home therapist. now let me live for god's sake #i get into anger spirals whenever she says anything to me now and that's not healthy either. i'm not entirely sure what to do #i can't confront her bc the last time someone in this house confronted her about her behavior (albeit badly) she kicked them out lmfao #so i'm just kind of. dealing with being her emotional punching bag or whatever until we can move #it's not as bad as it used to be i suppose. but i wish i could just tell her we are roommates not family #and that bc of her behavior we're not friends either. we just live together that is the extent of our relationship

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edenfenixblogs · 7 months

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Thank Your Jewish Friends Trying to Educate You Right Now

If you’re a leftist, and you have had a Jewish friend reach out to you to try and tell you that you’ve said something alarming or harmful or antisemitic: listen to them, learn, and say thank you.

I am VERY lucky in that all the friends I’ve personally reached out to have taken the opportunity to learn and grow and adjust their behavior. I have never told them that they should not advocate for Palestine. I have told them I want to advocate for Palestine WITH them, but I need to feel safe in order to do so. I need to feel like the people I’m advocating with don’t want me and my loved ones dead. Thank HaShem that they have listened to me. From the bottom of my heart, my friends are a blessing.

But I’ve seen an incredibly disheartening number of fellow Jews who have had the opposite experiences—being expelled from their queer communities and activist communities and book clubs and any space they once found community. This is horrid but it’s especially horrid for Jews. It’s a reminder that we are only accepted if we conform. We are only accepted if we accept abuse. Our presence is always tolerated, never wanted. Our views are not to be trusted. Our opinions are always suspect. Our motives are always sinister. Our acceptance is always conditional. And I think that hurts even more for us than you’d imagine, because our own spaces are no longer safe. We are already in diaspora. And now our synagogues and homes and other community buildings are being vandalized and attack. We are cut off from our own cultural community and now many of us are being cut off from our personal communities as well. It is a loneliness that most people outside of a diaspora will never know.

Im willing to bet that if you have/had a Jewish friend who you considered close but who seems to have disappeared from your life, it’s because you either didn’t reach out to them after 10/7 or you have failed to acknowledge the stochastic threat to Jews or the Jewish connection to Israel. Why is it important that you do this? Because we are your friends and loved ones. And when friends and loved ones tell you they are hurting, you should listen. When you say you care about someone, you should be willing to listen to them when they say you’re hurting them and then you should apologize. It is more hurtful than you can possibly imagine to watch people you thought cared about you decide to listen to people across the world who they have never met rather than simply have a conversation with a friend, because they assume that friend will dismiss the pain of Palestinians.

Many of you are assuming what your friends are feeling about Israel and Palestine, but you haven’t actually asked them. Many of you think that expressing sorrow for Israel or jews in the world, that means we cannot care about or want a better future for Palestine.

If you are lucky enough to have a friend who has tried to reach out to you, that means they are willing to forgive you for neglecting them in this time. They are willing to talk with you and try to explain their emotions in good faith. They want to find a way to advocate for progress with you. They want to keep you in their lives. They want you to understand our culture and history—not at the exclusion of anyone else’s culture and history—just at the inclusion of our own.

Because here’s the other thing: they won’t forget that you denied them understanding and respect and the benefit of the doubt. That’s not a threat. That’s a cultural feature of Judaism. We have famously long cultural memories. We remember the people and places we can trust and those who refused to give us peace and safety and basic kindness. We remember the people who targeted us, your friends and loved ones, simply because other Jews who we have never met behaved in ways you don’t understand and of which you don’t approve. You are blaming the sins of others on people you claim to love.

If someone is giving you the chance to undo the damage you have done on this, you should take it. And if you have expelled Jews from a space you once shared or failed to acknowledge their pain in this time—find them and apologize.

I am not Muslim, but I wouldn’t doubt that something similar is happening in Muslim spaces. Islamophobia and antisemitism are at terrifyingly high levels right now. And if you think you can’t support Jews without condemning Muslims or you can’t support Muslims without condemning Jews, you’re not only part of the problem—you’re the biggest part of the problem.

What we all need right now is unity, peace, solidarity, understanding, and education above all else.

#jumblr #antisemitism #leftist antisemitism #islamophobia #jewish muslim solidarity

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hotvintagepoll · 1 month

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LAST POLL OF ROUND 5

Propaganda

Sophia Loren (Marriage Italian Style, Houseboat)—Major Italian star, first actress to win an Oscar for a performance not in English (for Two Women (1960)) and later when Roberto Benigni won an Oscar in 1999 he jumped over the chairs towards the stage going "Sophia Sophia!!" because he was running towards Sophia Loren and said he cared more about her than the Oscar, that's the effect she had on people. She was big in the 60s already even though she gained a lot more notoriety after that. And I mean. Can we take a moment and just.

Mbissine Thérèse Diop (Black Girl)—She’s a Senegalese actress known for starring in Black Girl, one of the first African films to receive international attention/acclaim. So much of the movie relies on her ability to convey her character’s sense of isolation/loneliness, she’s so amazing, I really wish she had acted more. However, she just recently appeared in the film Cuties!

This is round 5 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Sophia Loren:

She has maxed out all her stats: beauty, elegance, sensuality, she's got it all. her mesmerizing eyes, her sensual mouth, her sharp face shape, her everything is so striking and unlike any other beauty in films. she was also voted the world most beautiful woman when she was freaking 65

im submitting her in honor of my dad bc she was the first celebrity crush of his he ever admitted to me and my sister :) and he was right. shes so pretty

OSCAR WINNER. Worked with some of the hottest leading men in Hollywood but remained faithful to her husband whom she had a loving marriage with till he died (even though Cary Grant almost tempted her once, it's complicated)

One of the most well-known sex symbols of the Golden Age of Hollywood, and unlike some unfortunate others, she seems to have been pretty well at peace with occupying that status. She made assertiveness and a tempestuous temper seem glamorous, and although she's famous for side-eying Jayne Manisfield's cleavage, honestly? She's one to talk.

Absolutely, drop-dead sexy, also a hard working, extraordinarily talented actress who didn't shy away from the less glamorous roles to gift us some gritty, memorable performances

Submitting this on behalf of my dad, who knows nothing of tumblr or this blog, but I remember being a kid watching Houseboat while my mom thirsted after Cary Grant, dad thirsted after Sophia Loren, and I was excited that they lived on a boat. Anyway, she's extremely beautiful and was an international star, doing a ton of movies in Italy before being recognized in the US.

JUST LOOK AT HER Y'ALL

Very smart and beautiful, the characters that she played (I mean those in the movies that I put in the previous question) are as strong and determined as her which I think adds to her hotness.

Global superstar and my late grandfather's long time movie star crush and for a man as quiet as he was, and as hopelessly devoted to his wife as he was, the fact that I know that means she was EXCEPTIONAL.

Big in the chest, snatched in the waist, pretty in the face 😳

Sexy, beautiful, deep. A real star.

Her performance in "Man of La Mancha" is just so very captivating. Dubbed as "the Italian Marilyn Monroe", she looks beautiful in any movie and at any age.

Forget the exotic sexpot of her Hollywood films and go back to her Italian career: sparking with Marcello Mastroianni as the woman who drives him mad and outwits all his fumbling attempts at macho posturing in their early films, and showing a tender side in their 1970s films. Sophia isn’t self-conscious about who she is or her beautiful body: she enjoys being herself and she wants us all to enjoy ourselves too.

She starred in films as a sexually emancipated persona and was one of the best known sex symbols of the time. She is a great cook and her filmography is immense.

On the misattributed quote that Sophia owed everything to spaghetti: 'Did you actually say the quote frequently attributed to you, "Everything you see I owe to spaghetti"?' "Non è vero! It's not true! It's such a silly thing. I owe it to spaghetti, no, no. Completely made up."

Mbissine Thérèse Diop:

#Mbissine Thérèse Diop #sophie loren #hotvintagepoll #fuck that old woman #ladies 5

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myouicieloz · 2 months

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Just Pretend

Im Nayeon x member!reader

Synopsis: flashback of the day it happened.

Warnings: angst. overdosing. hard use of drugs. self-harm. agressive behaviors.

Word count: 3.4k

Notes: -

Pt.1 | Pt.2 | Pt.3 | Pt.4 | Pt.5

Without them, you are worth nothing.

The manager’s words echoed in your head as you entered the apartment, dragging your feet in exhaustion.

He wasn’t wrong, as much as it hurt to admit. You were far from being the most popular member, often preferring to be in the back and step aside to give your bandmates the spotlight. You weren’t as good of a singer as Jihyo, delicate as Mina or as smooth of a dancer as Momo. You’d never be half as good as your bandmates were, no matter how much you practiced and worked to improve. You knew that, they knew that; it was a well-known fact, even though everyone refused to acknowledge out loud.

Were you ever going to be anything other than mediocre?

The thoughts were overwhelming, running through your head at high speed. You threw yourself in your massive bed, the pillow muffling your screams as you tried your best to suffocate, shrink and just disappear. You felt the tiredness up in your bones, the weight heavy and crushing down on your lungs until you were unable to breathe; all you could do was choke in your tears, grasping desperately for a comfort that would never be provided to you.

You were trying so hard. Every day, you did the best you could to keep speaking, breathing, working. Why did no one recognize that?

Why were your efforts never enough?

You screamed, yet no one came. No one heard; no one cared.

You’d once told your bandmates you didn’t mind living alone —you were used to it, after all. Being raised in a small family, it was only natural for you to seek a place for yourself after the girls decided to leave the dorms. You had opted for complete silence and privacy, just as you secretly wished after so many years of a chaotic dorm life with your bandmates.

As much you were thankful for the times you had shared: the late night talks, being spoiled by the older girls, or just hanging out together 24/7… you missed the loneliness your body had grown up with, being alone most of the day as a little girl while waiting for your parents to return home, from work.

That’s what you had told them: you didn’t mind living by yourself. It was quiet, organized, and nice, surely different from the life you’ve experienced as a trainee, but nothing you weren’t used to. You liked being able to relax, to be vulnerable without having to worry about being caught. This way, you didn’t have to think about being a burden to your bandmates, no matter how much they’d argue against it.

That’s how you’ve always seen yourself. As a burden, an unnecessary member, a selfish human being and most importantly, a horrible friend to your bandmates, who you loved to pieces. You’d never be worthy of them. Would never be half of all they were.

A failure. That’s the only thing you excelled at being.

Your mind, the thoughts… it was too much of a burden. You were— you’ve been exhausted for so long. If only the intensity of the memories, the hypothetic situations plotted in your mind would cease, even if just for a few seconds. Then you’d rest, finally, without them bothering and being an ache in your head. Silence, at last. You’d do anything to have it, no matter if the quietude was for a single minute.

After what seemed so long, your loud sobs faded to whimpers, and the banging in your head resumed to a fading headache. With that, you were able to think a little clearer, although still deeply hurt. Your mind went immediately to your unnies, seeking comfort. You knew they’d be more than eager to help you, doing everything in their power to make you feel better — however you simply couldn’t; it was almost like something physical; your stomach prickled, and you felt like throwing up every time you thought about bothering them, even more to talk about something as stupid as your feelings. No, you couldn’t. They were all also struggling, each with their own demons to battle. You’d never ask for help.

Even though you desperately needed it.

As you sat down on the bed, you thought about your oldest bandmate, Nayeon. Always so energetic, with her bunny smile and an infinite wish to have fun and enjoy her life. Picturing her big, loving eyes, you know just what to do to forget such heavy feelings that nested and suffocated your heart.

“I’m sorry, Y/nnie.” Nayeon’s voice sounded baffled through the phone, since she was clearly in a loud space. You recalled the oldest member talking about shooting for a magazine, but you didn’t quite remember the details. “Could you repeat yourself? What is it that you want, my dear?”

You took another long gulp of your mixed drink — it tasted awful, since you’ve never seemed to get the dosage of alcohol right, but you didn’t really care. All you wanted was to numb the pain and silence the thoughts, anyway. “That skirt of yours, unnie. The one you were wearing at Louis Vuitton’s fashion show? I also have a shooting later today, and I’d really, really like to wear it. Please?”

She took long to answer, and you weren’t sure if it was because she was busy or simply wondering what was happening to you. Once again, you hated yourself for disturbing her, but the desperation in your bones hurt enough that you’d do anything for it to stop.

“I don’t remember you having a solo shooting anytime soon, baby. It wasn’t mentioned in our monthly meetings, at the company. Who is it for? Tell me all about it, maknae. I want to know.” You could hear people calling her, throughout the line — but she was quick to silence them all, asking for a few more minutes of break. Nayeon’s smart, and knows you too well. She was aware something felt off: whether it was the heaviness in your tone, or how you were stuttering slightly, the words coming out unclear and hesitant.

You were prepared for it, though. You’ve rehearsed all of your words before dialing her number.

“It was a last-time arrangement.” You answered promptly, walking around in your apartment. “Manager-im said the company didn’t really want it, but they’ve let me do it today, finally. It’s for ELLE Korea.”

Nayeon hummed, and you could imagine her shoulders relaxing in her shooting’s dressing room.

She was falling right into your trap.

“Oh, wonderful.” She was probably smiling, her bunny teeth all in display, and the thought of that made you guiltier than ever. You were despicable, not worthy of her love at all. You needed punishment, to hurt and to— “I’m free in a few hours, then I was supposed to meet Momo for dinner. Maybe you could join us, my love? I’ll give you the skirt there, then. You’ve been so distant later, Y/n. Me and all the girls… we miss you.”

Her words forged a bulge in your throat, your defenses falling off instantly. You did your best to hold the hiccups that threatened to leave your lips, frail and insecure. Nayeon’s warmth always made you feel so small, cared for and comforted. Any words from her are enough for you to go running into her arms, crying and confessing all of your deepest fears to the oldest member.

It was an easy thing to do, in theory. But in reality, how hard it was to know you were surrounded by care, yet a thick wall prevented you from feeling the love you so desperately claimed for.

“C-can’t I just stop by your house and grab it, unnie? I’ll be quick and won’t make a mess, I p-promise.” You couldn’t tell her how much you were hurting. The words didn’t come out, they never did. You’ve tried to do so countless times.

They’d never know your troubles, your pain. And it was your fault.

Nayeon sighs, and you know she’s tired. You were exhausted, too.

Regardless of anything, though, you were still the maknae. The girls always granted all of your wishes.

“Sure, baby. I’ll message the doorman so he’ll let you in. You know the code, right?” She was respecting your time, giving you as much space as you needed, to heal from the demons she did not comprehend.

Again, you didn’t deserve her.

“I do.” You bit your lip, unsure of how to express yourself. After so long of keeping your soul hidden, it’s difficult to let the light shine through. “Thank you, unnie. I love you.”

She knew you weren't talking about her skirt.

“And I love you, my dear. We all do, very much.” You heard another muffled voice, sounding much more incisive, even though you couldn’t understand the words clearly. “I’ll talk to you later, ok? Call me whenever.”

You hung up, somehow feeling worse than before.

Nayeon’s apartment is a familiar scenery to you. It’s where your most precious memories live, from times when you weren’t so broken and scared. Tracing the walls with your fingers, you reminisced the best ones: weekly movie nights with the girls, the times when Momo baked you cookies because you were feeling down. Being alone in Nayeon’s lavish, grand place feels weird— almost wrong. As if you’re entering a dangerous part of your brain, one you kept carefully hidden because looking back at it hurt too much.

Have you always been like that? So dull and lost?

It’s winter, and Nayeon’s not home, so it’s only natural that the house is cold. However, you felt a different type of freezing feeling in your bones. One so strong it left you shivering, mouth colorless and fists closed, your long nails inflicting pain upon the palms of your hands so you’d focus the discomfort somewhere else, if not your entire body.

Her room, messy as always, brought enough comfort that you found yourself smiling; at least some things never changed. You went straight to her closet, although not for the excuse you’ve told your unnie. Her skirt was there, naturally — but you were looking for something entirely different.

Nayeon has always been energetic. She enjoyed socializing, partying, and, most importantly, having fun. You know it well.

Her personality was the reason she had the perfect distraction for you. At least for a few moments, the thoughts would cease. You’d no longer feel the heavy burden that was being alive. Silence, that’s all you wanted.

You already knew where to look. You’d caught her reaching out for it before attending Jennie’s birthday party. ‘Just to have a little fun, love.’ she had told you. In the last drawer on the left, behind layers of thick winter sweaters and scarfs, the drugs she’d use recreationally were carefully packed in a small metallic box, sparkling at your touch.

Your phone lit up, the familiar notification sounds distracting you from your task. You put your phone on DND, leaving it on one of Nayeon’s jewelry drawers as

your trembling hands held a small sealed package, filled with pills. You hated smoking — the smoke irritated your throat, and somehow you’d never gotten a high, so you found it awful. You despised the taste of alcohol too, often choosing not to drink during gatherings, which cooperated to your title of baby of the group.

Being naturally shy, and more reserved than the others — as well as the youngest, meant you’ve been protected your whole life. Whether it was your family, your members, or the staff, people have always been somehow gentle to you: giving you less revealing clothes, so you’d be comfortable, answering evasive questions in your place, giving you relationship advice and warnings in advance, protecting you from possible dispatch scandals… and most importantly, giving you the drug lecture. You’ve heard it countless times, about how drugs led to addiction and its side effects destroyed people’s lives, along with their loved ones.

But Nayeon used them, and you were sure the other girls were no saints, either. You were all grown women, aware of your actions. Besides, didn’t you deserve peace? You’ve asked Nayeon about what it felt like before, which was why you were sure it was just what you needed.

An escape, something to distract yourself from the rage and the pain, to have you relax for a bit. What were some substances to a body that was already filled with numbness? You just wanted it all to stop, to not feel so overwhelmed. You wanted to be a better idol, a better daughter, a better friend. But you knew that, for such thing to happen, you’d have to be born again; to be someone else.

You could never be anything but mediocre.

That was the reason, even though you were afraid, you still gathered some pills in your hands, looking at them with tears in your eyes. You struggled to breathe, and you lacked courage.

Even that you couldn’t do. A coward — no, you refused to be called that. With a deep sigh, you took a single one, at first.

I did nothing to ease your nerves. You were curious, and so desperately wanted the thoughts to stop, so you took another handful of them. You had never taken anything before, you had no idea how it worked. You expected something immediate, brief but strong, but instead, you just felt the usual numbness. Worse than that, you were starting to overthink about what such substances would do to you. Were you that useless that they didn’t work?

Instead of feeling light and bubbly, you simply felt like you had to throw up. Your entire body was prickling, and your long nails furiously scratched your skin in hopes I’d stop. There wasn’t enough air — as if you forgot how to breathe. It was a mechanic movement, and it terrified you, having to remember to recharge your lungs at every second. Despite the cold, your palms started sweating, and you felt sore and dizzy.

This wasn’t at all how you’d envisioned it. The thoughts were not gone, they’ve worsened, instead. They passed like flashes through your head, a million possible outcomes being presented to you through horrible insights, like you were a character living a thousand lives.

It terrified you. You didn’t want any of it anymore. It was all a terrible mistake.

After what felt like hours, you managed to get up from where you had been kneeling all this time. Balance had left your body, and you felt truly sorry for breaking one of the pretty vases that hung near the tv in your unnie’s room, as well as tearing down many little objects she had left dangling through her drawers. Leaning on anything you could see with your shitty vision, the ground moved like you were in a roller coaster.

You’d have to apologize for making her room even messier, later. Great; one more thing to feel guilty about.

Somehow, you managed to reach her on-suite bathroom. Your hands were now vigorously shivering, a clear message you were not well in the slightest. You needed it to stop, to do something, anything. Feeling heavy with regret, and desperation, you opened her mirror to reach out for your other option: Nayeon’s sleeping pills. Surely, sleeping through all this mess would make it pass quickly. You’d deal with all the consequences later. At the moment, you only needed to rest.

The medicine worked: you felt better instantly, no longer like you were going to throw up at any instant. Calming down, you were able to think clearly, although your heartbeat echoed loudly through the silent house. For the first time in weeks, you stared at yourself through the mirror.

The girl that started back scared you. Your hair lacked its usual thickness and shine. Your eyes were dull, lifeless, with heavy eyebags. And you were thin, so much your current clothes looked huge under yourself, as if they were someone else’s.

Maybe they were.

Those were your last thoughts before the world went pitch black. You lost control of your legs, and slowly felt your body getting closer to the ground. The world finally went silent, and it felt like you’d finally rest.

Nayeon knew something was wrong from the moment you called her.

Her nervousness only went further once the doorman confirmed to her that you had indeed gone to her apartment, but he hadn’t seen you leave ever since. In her heart, she already knew what was up.

Just refused to acknowledge it.

“Y/n?” Momo’s voice reverberated through the cold open area of her duplex’s first floor, not getting any response.

It’s okay. She told herself, trying to calm her heart, that felt like was going to fall from her chest. Y/n’s always been quiet. It’s okay. She’s okay.

Both women walked slowly to Nayeon’s master bedroom, looking at each other briefly before entering the room. The oldest gave Momo a faint nod before opening the door, unsure of what to expect.

Her room was normal, as much as it could be. It was a mess, naturally — her mess, but something felt.. off. There were a few things splashed on the ground that she was sure that were not her doing, and… her vase was broken?

What had Y/n done?

The lights of the closet were still on, so it was were she rushed, not looking back to see if Momo would follow. Truthfully, she hoped her friend and ex roommate didn’t.

She sighed in relief once she didn’t find the maknae in the room, but the scenery was not what she was prepared to see. Her drugs, the ones she’d hidden so carefully were all messy on the ground, in all the possible places.

It clicked, then. Your questions, the innocent curiosity whenever you’d mention about it… Nayeon suddenly felt so, so stupid. And deeply worried, too. She felt her rapid breathing as her shaky fingers shoved the drugs back to the drawer, a single question roaming like a silent scream inside her head.

Where was her baby maknae?

Nayeon didn’t have to wait long, though. A terrified scream followed her worried thoughts, confirming her deepest fears.

She didn’t want to look. Couldn’t master the courage to do so.

With her mouth dry, she forced herself to get up and follow Momo’s gasps. The sight presented to herself was one she was sure she’d see in her nightmares every day until she died.

It would haunt her forever.

Momo laid beside your fragile frame on the ground, vomit splashed in your shiny, porcelain ground. Nayeon didn’t mind that — she’s taken care of her members while they were passed out drunk many times, but what terrified was the way your body moved, limp yet frantic, a pool of white foam leaving your mouth while your eyes, while and lifeless, showed no signs of conscience.

She’s had a bad seizure. They doctors would explain to Nayeon, later.

It looked like hell on earth. Her baby, shaking so much there was blood on your head, hurt from the repetitive movements.

“U-unnie?” Momo’s voice faltered, her body covering half of the tragedy. It was selfish, but she was grateful for that. That she hadn’t seen it all. “Call the ambulance.” She was crying, Nayeon noticed, but she didn’t care. She couldn’t think, couldn’t move — she was useless, frozen, unable to do anything to help.

Momo’s hands went to your hands, trying to lock your arms in attempts of making you stop moving so aggressively and stop hurting yourself, even in your unconsciousness. “Unnie? Ambulance. NOW.”

Momo’s desperate tone is what brings Nayeon back from her trance. Her movements are mechanic, and she has no memory of the words she’d told the operator.

The only thing Nayeon truly remembers is holding Momo’s hands in the way to the hospital, as salty tears clouded her face. The paramedics screams were nothing in her ears, muffled by the loud banging inside her mind, with only one thing she was sure of.

She was to blame.

#sol writes #twice angst #twice x reader #twice imagines #im nayeon #nayeon angst #nayeon x reader

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savannahsdeath · 10 months

Note

hiii i love ur writing sm and i had a lil request what’s ur take on reader thinking ellie’s working late so she’s using a toy (🤭) and doesn’t hear ellie come in how’d ellie react in your opinion

thank you sm!!💞 also im so happy i got this req because i was thinking about writing something like that for a while now and literally WAITED for an opportunity

ELLIE WILLIAMS X READER

mdni please<3

warnings: 18+!! needy/desperate!reader, ellie is teasing and taunting af

writers note: send reqs send reqs pls!!!🩷

you couldn't live without ellie and she knew that, so she made sure to take good care of you. one day she had to stay in work for a little longer - she even said she might not be home at all. you trusted her but you couldn't hide your worry and jealousness of her co-workers. no matter how much that annoyed you, you didn't complain - as long as she has the money to put something in the fridge. she, in fact, had way more money - she promised to spoil you in the weekend, making up for the lost night. still, you had to keep yourself somehow satisfied. and that's how you end up in your shared bed, getting wet over a toy, which feels nothing like ellie, not in the slightest, but you still imagined it's her. her name in form of quiet whimpers was the only sound leaving your mouth. your underwear, rolled down to your knees, was stretching as your legs moved apart.

the silicone couldn't compare to the touch of your beloved ellie. it was lifeless. as you moved it against your core, your imagination carried you into thoughts of the real thing, her hands on you, her voice in your ear. but it was only a fantasy while she was away. a weak, animalistic noise left your mouth as you tried to fill the void she left. you tried to make it real, but the toy couldn't fill the emptiness.

and the moment you realized that, the moment your whimpers turned into soft cries - from both pleasure and loneliness - you heard her clearing her throat. you squeezed your thighs shut, hoping to hide as much as possible. your fear quickly turned into embarrasment as you started mumbling nervous; "fuck, ellie, i thought you- i was thinking- shit, you know..."

you were trying to make an excuse while she looked nothing but amused.

she stood there in the doorway, a mischievous smirk on her face. she slowly walked over to the bed, still smiling. "that's fucking pathetic." her voice was soft, but her taunting clear. you felt your face flush as you tried to explain yourself, but she didn't let you. "you're a mess." she said, her tone playful despite her words.

she crouched down to join you on the bed, smirking as you tried to make sense of the situation. "who uses a... toy?" she asked, her hands running up your legs, past the underwear, sitting low on your thighs. "i leave you alone for one day, and you start playing with this?" she continued, pushing it aside with her foot.

she parted your thighs, clicking her tongue at the sight. you wrapped your arms around your face to hide it, knowing it's too late anyway. no matter how awkward you felt, you wanted that. that's what you waited for, after all - her touch. real touch.

"awww, is someone embarrassed? look at me when i'm talking to you." she said in a teasing tone, gently pulling your arms away. she looked down at you, then at the small toy pushed out of the way on the bed. "i could help you get over this, you know. help you feel the real thing..." she whispered, her hands still running up and down your legs. suddenly, her smirk turned more playful. "but i'm so tired after a day full of work."

your face grew red as her teasing tone made the situation worse. the thought of her helping you forget about the toy in favor of the real thing made you weak, your arms sliding back down with her guidance. still, your eyes did everything they could to avoid her.

"please." you said between breaths before realizing you had to fight the urge to beg her.

the thought sent a thrill through you, adding to your embarrassment. she knew she had you in the palm of her hand, and she loved every moment of it. her hand smacked your cheek so lightly it was more like a pat, only for the impact to force your head to turn as she looked deep into your eyes. she kept her hand firmly gripped over your jaw as you tried to fight the urge to touch yourself out of desperation.

"why don't you play with the toy?" she whispered, making the mocking tone cut so much deeper. you knew what she was implying, but she knew you didn't have the guts to do it with her present. that's why you got embarrassed when she catched you and that's how you ended up like that in the first place. "do it." she said, forcing your hand towards yourself.

your eyes widened as you looked back at her, not expecting such a bold instruction to come from her mouth.

"please, el-s... i need you..." you begged, your legs clenching as you tried to resist.

you tried to fight the words, but they already escaped your mouth. your eyes searched hers for some kind of mercy, but you only got a smile in return.

your resistance only made her smirk grow wider, a slight shift in her stance putting her in control.

"told you i'm so, so tired." she said playfully, pretending to be exhausted.

she knew she didn't have to do much convincing to get her way, and your attempts at resisting were futile, if not cute. your body begged for release, and she knew it, but she pretended to consider your request.

"hmm..." she hummed, making a show of weighing the pros and cons. "not tired enough, yet..." she smiled and shifted her weight, pinning you down as one hand held your jaw, and the other gripped your hip. she brought her lips to your ear, whispering with a smirk: "you're going to have to beg harder than that."

you squirmed under her weight as her hand ran through your hair, her fingers teasing your head and bringing a soft, animalistic whine from you. your legs were spread wide, your underwear sliding to your ankles. her touch only made your desperation worse, making you forget all sense and allowing her control over the situation. as she noticed your devoid of words, she leaned back up to face you again and her smirk turned to a look of pure confidence, her eyes on yours.

"don't tell me you're satisfied with a toy." she sighed, her tone playful but her words cutting.

you whispered something so quietly, it wasn't really audible, but ellie knew what you're saying. and the fact that you weren't able to speak up louder was enough to make her more satisfied, than she would be if you'd simply say it.

"hmm..." she hummed as she shifted again, letting you see what her body looked like in this position. "maybe i can help you." she said in a teasing tone, slowly moving her hand back down to your hips. you tried to resist her, but she kept her grip tight as she moved to sit between your open legs. "such a shame my hands are so sore..." she sighed as she shifted in between your legs, leaning closer as her hand left your hips to explore.

she teased you with a brush of her fingers against your inner thigh, making you squirm and whine louder. your desperate pleas were music to her ears, as she kept her eyes on yours with a wide smirk, a glint of mischief in her eyes.

you could feel your legs grow weaker under her touch, and her words only added to the intensity of the situation. you wanted nothing more than to fill the void left by her absence, but your body and thoughts were being consumed by her presence.

"ellie- pleeease..." you whispered, your words strained, the begging coming out of you despite your efforts to resist. you wanted her to stop and to continue at the same time. you let your emotions take over, your mind clouded of everything but her touch.

she knew it. she knew she had you right where she wanted.

her hand lightly tapped your clit with each please, and by the fourth pat, she had you begging with your body too. your hips were trying to move towards her as if trying to get more of her touch. you couldn't resist, and she wouldn't let you anyway.

she leaned closer as your voice begged her for release. she could almost taste it, and she wanted nothing more than for your words to become actions. she finally placed a soggy kiss on your clit as you threw your head back, pressing it against the pillow. she started to stroke slowly up and down your wet slit before beginning to run her tongue over your swollen nub.

you quickly mumbled; "thankyouthankyou" and your eyes closed shut in satisfaction.

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x you #ellie x reader #ellie x y/n #ellie tlou #reqs open #ellie the last of us #wlw smut

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pixieskie · 5 months

Text

˖˚˳⊹"i really do love you.. im sorry"˖˚˳⊹

-warnings: Angst, depress!on, su!c!dal thoughts, detachment, scars, body dysmorphia, disassociation, not proofread, chubby reader. -chars mentioned: Scaramouche -wc: 0.6k -a/n: i dont even know what to say.. Um this is .. something.. enjoy?

masterlist

as someone who felt every emotion more intense than others, it also meant feeling more sad. it should've been fine but you simply couldn't feel happy.. you have friends and family but still felt so lonely..

“helloooo” scaramouche waved his hand infront of your face to get your attention.

Suddenly looking up, you see him frowning at you. “what’re you thinking so hard about.. do you not wanna watch the movie?”

“sorry.. i just spaced out” you said embarrassed.. “just continue the movie, ill pay attention this time”.. Scara simply muttered a small ‘fine’ and resumed it.

Scaramouche is your best friend, the one you share everything with. But.. he could never understand the depth of your emotions.. The void you feel inside.. The aching loneliness that consumes you at every moment.

“Yes lets go to the beach!! itll be perf....”

“ooh i just bought a new bikini…..”

“wont it be too sunny? ill get tanne….”

you drowned out their conversation and thought of excuses to skip… you had no other choice.. a bikini wouldn't cover your scars, stretch marks or tummy fat.. it would be on display for everyone to see your insecurities and then they'd hate you.

“guys im sorry but i have to study this weekend.. exams are close”

“again? but didnt you say the same last week…”

“oh come on! itll be so fun…”

“ugh she does the same everytime…”

Ofcourse they wouldn't understand.. They had the perfect body..

The words were blurred as you tried to read them.. Nothing made sense to you anymore.. Your exams were near and you have to study but the words together don't make sense anymore..

Sighing, you went to splash some water on your face to wake yourself up. Looking up into the mirror, you saw failure.. Someone who cant study.. Someone who wouldnt be able to make a living..

You sat back down at your desk.. You can study and change your future right? its just a book..

But.. you cant make yourself read the words anymore.. you felt so tired..

Why cant you also be like others?.. Everyone else is so successful and perfect.. They have good grades, perfect body and happy lives..

You sat on the edge of the roof.. This used to be your hang out spot with Scara but eventually you both stopped meeting there.

“where the fuc- YOURE HERE?” Scara dramatically sighed, huffing. “Ive been searching all over for you. Come on, ive made dinner.. you have to eat something”

You chucked softly at his caring nature and nodded silently.. “Scara?” he was about to leave but turned back to look at you “yeah?”

“I love you”

He chuckled in confusion “yeah yeah i get it, i love you too. no need to get all sentimental with me, its just dinner.”

You turned back to the sky once he left. He probably went to your kitchen to fill a plate for you..

You smiled at the thought. He was the best person you could've asked for..

And it hurts. He cared for you so much but you couldn't appreciate it..

Leaving never had to be this painful.. But a tear fell down and you closed your eyes, recounting your memories..

There were so many happy moments you never got to enjoy.. Sad moments you stayed numb.. And the huge gap in your memory.. and nobody knew how you felt because you never let them.

‘Im so tired… Im so tired..” You looked at your feet, dangling off the roof.. ‘i hate this .. i dont wanna do this.. but theres nothing else to be done’

You took a deep breath in.. “i really do love you.. im sorry”...

…..

tags: @rubywonu @stygianoir @unsavoy-melon @kashiiwi @babbledabble25

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circuscountdowns · 4 months

Text

Crude Timeline/Breakdown of my goofy Cult of the Lamb drawings if you’re interested:

The whole premise for this i guess au? Started during my first run, I already knew the game was about kill god become god, but Did Not know you could Marry the god youd betray??? Or indoctrinate him???. Like I didn't even choose the Marriage Doctrine cuz I'm like boo r u kidding me I'm choosing violent Battle Pit always. Which Lambert wouldn't know any of this in the beginning either but the big deciding factor is:

Lamb is going into it with the mindset of Kill All Gods for what they've done to the sheep (sorry my benefactor, ur included <3) Kratos style lets go, none spared.

That being said, they have a lot of devotion towards Death, I like to think the Sheep folk prayed to The One Below for quick passings knowing they're a huge sacrificial species, and because sheep with their huge herd mentality, the worship flowed heavily which is a threat therefore that plus prophecy equals Slaughter.

So with TOWW, they play along and genuinely mean they're serving death because they worshiped Death as a concept, a divine entity. They believe when they “kill” TOWW they'll still be “together” because Death is unkillable right (and the lamb would never have to be alone again right). Something new will be written thats the both of us as one.

So in between crusading Lamb and TOWW get closer (i am going to take your throne but that doesn't mean we can't have fun banter or that i don't really really enjoy ur compliments and attention ((because I love kittys…))) and that's when the comic about tanking happens.

But oh no! Through their journey Lamb discovers that TOWW is actually a Bishop, chained for a petty family squabble??? Has a name and it’s Narinder????

The revelation kinda breaks something in their head. it upsettingly humanizes the Bishops, trivializes the death of their people, and takes TOWW off the pedestal they'd placed him on. Uh ohhhh how does this change things i mean I'm still gonna kill all the gods but what does it mean to be a god is it just a crown whats going to happen to Narinder is it actually Narinder I like ?? (And i had a comic for this time planned but idk if ill get to it)

Meanwhile Narinders opinion on the Lamb has so far just been Wow im so proud, I chose good yay I'm gonna be free (why do I feel like I could be free from their devotion alone?) (why are they just like me fr?)

When Narinder is defeated and they have the choice, the lamb feels they betray both their people for not keeping their promise to kill all gods, but also their Faith and Narinder, v conflicting.

After indoctrination, Narinder does his typical Isolation, depression, and Lamb mourns what they'd had. In their loneliness, they stop allowing their cultists to die for long. They do all Narinders quests, and when it comes to the resurrection he's like Haha I remember why I liked you. But also he can exploit this. That's the time of the Resurrection comic.

He tries to micromanage from there, if he can't be the god being worshiped rn he's going to control the god. Starts off with whispering insecurities of Your cultists will find a way to leave you, be firmer. Gods should do this, have this, they'll leave if you don't. Lamb knows what he's doing and mostly humors him to keep him around but over time they've just both started to build a proper relationship again. He successfully ironically becomes their right hand.

This goes on for a sec before Mystic Seller knocks on da door like Hello do your joobbbb. And thats a kick enough to get Lamb out of their misery shit to really consider their original plan of killing gods and what exactly they want Death to Mean. (Comes to a conclusion that death is a peace that has to be earned. Through living.)

Bringing Leshy back brings a rift and arguments between Narinder and Lamb. That's when the Narinder Confessional comic happens and he lets out just how hurt he was by Lambs betrayal (cuz that seems to be all anyone ever does to him lol except for his sons)

So as a sort of reconciliation! Lamb brings back Aym and Baal. Yay! That's that comic, where Narinder tries to say it doesn't affect him so Lamb forces them to be together. Aym and Ball stay in the cult for a good while as Lamb works to free Heket, but Narinder is still super giving Lamb the cold shoulder. When Heket is indoctrinated Narinder gets angry again that he has no say on the matter.

Lamb starts sneaking off to sit in the confessional booth at night and it gets Narinders attention. He follows them in and hears them speak about essentially their motivations and beliefs described earlier. I have a half finished comic of this to partner with Narinder’s confessional, with Lamb’s being more down to earth and kinda just explanatory of the whole timeline but who knows if ill finish it tbh

Narinder reassesses his feelings for Lamb after that.

Right after Lamb's confessional would be when the Baal and AYm comic happens, and Narinder asks for his last request of going on a mission, fully committing to living a life.

Cue big ambiguous gap of time where Lamb gets the other siblings, yada yada healing and dealing. Shamura in the pillory comic happens, the bishops are Not happy about it, but Shamura's only locked up for a night.

Probably takes a hundred or two years for the siblings being comfortable enough around each other and theres a lot less venom being spat out. Idk gods grudges be lasting forever sometimes. Eventually They can start having family game nights, cue that comic. Everyones tired of the shit Lamb and Narinders got going on.

Lamb still thinks Narinder doesnt have romantic feelings for them. Best friends til the end me and my god, never mind the tense flirting. Lamb does that with everyone. (cursed with flirty asexual disease) For Narinder its that he shouldnt have to say anything everyone should just know that the Lamb is his. Straight up if Lamb asked him, do you love me hed say yes in every sense, but though he is aware of how he feels and would be honest on approach, an immortal relationship/marriage?? It is a lot to ask of the lamb, that has to be a decision they make. Hes content as is.

but No Way could Lamb ask that without a safety net. So when Lamb realizes Oh its like. romantic jealousy? Interesting lets see how far i can push it, announces they will be choosing a spouse (due to a wager lost they reason, depending on who asks) (the siblings who know of Shamura’s deal, watch in mild amusement at how absolutely wired this gets their brother. No one helps him.) fine for narinder If they get married thats up to them but hes gonna make sure theyre worthy of his vessel first. Marriage is just a title compared to what he and the Lamb have.

Cue comic i have planned that is Such a funny idea to me but im not liking how its turning out so who knows. But they get married yay!

Some years later kudaai has offered to make the lamb their own weapon. They go on a little trip to the spot they were sacrificed, now very overgrown and forgotten, and find their chains to make their weapons.

far future comic

many many many years later Lamb death comic.

that’s it for now. I’ll add more if ideas come but this is context if you’d like. Feel free to ask questions, I’m rotating these fellas in my head

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loversj0y · 11 months

Text

saving face

pairing: siren x gn!reader (villain wilbur soot from tommyinnits clinic for supervillains)

tws: okay so, im going to be REALLY thorough because there is some dark content throughout so kidnapping, chloroform use, drug use (power enhancers), reader gets called sweetheart at one point, violence, injuries, torture, major head injuries, alcohol, alcohol is poured on reader, mental manipulation (attempts at it), blood, broken nose, siren tells someone to claw their eye out, mentions of a fractured skull and concussion

notes: big major thank u to @medlarwrites for this idea!!!! ive been obsessing over siren since i read clinic and had to write something abt him. im not in love with the start of the fic bc i had a very different direction at first but!!! dont care i like how it ended up!! so :3

medlars original prompt: “anyways lemme leave you a siren!wilbur who finds our his bestfriend from college got kidnapped because they suspect she's associated with siren and so want to get information about his identity from them :)”

word count: 5.5k!

taglist: @l0veb0mb1ng / @core-queen / @zooone

When you were in college, you had a rather… peculiar best friend. Maybe you should’ve cared a bit more about the moral consequences of what he did, but honestly, it was college. Your best friend was one of the most well-known supervillains, Siren.

That wasn’t how you met him, though. You met him as Wilbur Soot, the guy who sat next to you in your Literature class, who often forgot his pens. You had a small crush on him, so you made a habit of always bringing an extra pen for him. You became quick friends after, bonding over mutual hatred for the professor’s teaching style, as well as sharing an onslaught of opinions.

You didn’t mean to find out about his identity, it was a complete accident. You and him had this mutual agreement that if something was going on (life troubles, finals stress, etc.), you have free permission to come over for some company. If the other person wasn’t there, you would just wait until they got home. It was a good system that kept both of you from getting too lonely, especially you. He lived at home, but you lived in a dodgy apartment by yourself. He would always make an effort to show up any time he had anything he wanted to talk about, mostly to keep you from feeling too alone. One night, the loneliness had gotten pretty rough, so you decided to go to Wilbur’s house. You two had given each other spare keys a long while back, and it wasn’t the first time you’d done this, so you were quick to unlock the door and head into his room to wait for him to come home. When the door did finally open, it wasn’t Wilbur who walked through.

You immediately jumped, backing up a bit as you saw Siren walk in. Once he’d processed that you were there, he cursed under his breath, trying to console you while quickly pulling off his blindfold. You watched as he went from Siren to Wilbur in a matter of seconds, your head swirling with confusion. You two had a very long conversation that night, while you helped him clean up a scratch along his arm.

After college, you didn’t see Wilbur as much anymore. You worked a lot, and he worked quite a bit too. You two still saw each other, just not as often.

You saw Siren much more often, though. Since Wilbur knew where your walk home from work was, he would always make an effort to be there and walk you home at night once a week if he could. Sometimes he would only watch you from the rooftops, other times when it was a bit darker and there were fewer people out, he would walk with you, chatting about anything he could think of. Over time, what once had been a small crush blossomed into genuine love for your best friend.

It was nice, a really good system. Kept you and him talking, even when your busy schedules tended to keep you from each other. However, for as good of a system as it is, it also had some apparent downsides.

Like your current situation.

You didn’t know exactly where you were.

The last thing you remembered was leaving work. You locked up the small bookstore you worked at and began your walk home when you felt a hand wrap around you, pressing a cloth against your mouth. Whoever it was ended up being too strong for you to fight against, and it was only a few minutes before the chloroform reached your brain, knocking you out quickly. In terms of kidnappings, it was fairly tame, at the very least.

It took a while to wake up, your consciousness floating in and out a few times, allowing you to get small glimpses of conversations.

“Try and get ‘em to talk. Just being friends with Siren doesn’t mean they’re strong. We can break them, even if it takes some… stepping in.”

A bit of a horrifying thing to hear post-kidnapping, but even if it wasn’t on purpose, it at least got your guard up a bit.

When you woke up, you spent a few minutes looking around and familiarising yourself with your surroundings. You were in some shitty warehouse. Which, honestly, cliche, and how many abandoned warehouses did this city have? Large, brown-stained windows lined the top of the walls, allowing for a bit of light to pour in. There were garage-type doors every few feet, but most of them had large padlocks, except for one the furthest away from you.

Your hands and feet were tied onto the chair, one hand behind handcuffed while the other hand and your legs were attached with zip ties.

Escape was not going to be easy, but you knew a bit of fighting, Wilbur having taught you how to protect yourself. You finally looked over to the middle of the room.

It took you a while to recognize the guy who’d kidnapped you. You did know him, though, only because of the things that Siren had told you. Schlatt, previously known as Gunmetal, an ex-hero. His power was the ability to strengthen his body to a metal-like level, making him incredibly hard to take down. The Syndicate considered approaching him for membership, but he was… unstable. He got discharged by the Hero Committee after his increased strength led to the destruction of an apartment building. There weren’t any villains around to pin it on, either, and there were too many witnesses. It had also been discovered that he’d been utilizing power enhancers, which were supposed to be outlawed, in order to extend his abilities and allow him to strengthen multiple parts of his body at once.

If what Wilbur had told you in his frustrated rants was true, Schlatt wanted to take over the Syndicate. He’d attacked them numerous times, always aiming to kill, and he’d taken a particular interest in finding out Siren’s identity.

You sat up a bit, preparing yourself for whatever bullshit he was about to spew at you.

Wilbur caught onto something being wrong a few hours after you’d been taken. He had gone on a minor heist with Techno, and things ran… suspiciously well. No hero intervention for the majority of the heist, until Flame showed up towards the end. Blade handled most of the fighting for him, while Siren took care of their escape. It was when they finally escaped that he noticed something odd. He and Techno passed by your apartment, and he knew your habits well enough to know that you would not be asleep this early. Despite that, the lights in your apartment were off. A bit of searching later, and he was quick to notice your disappearance. When he arrived back home, he was quick to enlist Tubbo to see if they could get a ping on your last known location. Your phone wasn’t anywhere to be found, so he hoped he could at least figure out where you had been. Normally, he would pace to try and distract himself, but when it came to you, there was no use. He immediately headed out, trying to find any sign of you and waiting for a response from Tubbo.

“Good mornin’ sweetheart,” Schlatt chuckled, standing in front of a table in front of your chair. He had two briefcases set out in front of him, “Don’t worry. I ain’t gonna hurt you.” There was an implied ‘yet’ at the end of that sentence. You got a good look at him. He wore a pressed suit, and an airsoft mask – equipped specially with two ram horns on the sides, his signature look. His knuckles were wrapped with red athletic tape, at least you’d hoped it was originally red.

“Then what the fuck do you want with me? It’s hard to believe you aren’t going to hurt me when you kidnapped me off the street.”

“I just need a bit of information, that’s all.”

You scoffed, “Really? So you just fucking kidnap me?”

“It’s effective, is it not?” He chuckled, leaning forward, “Do you have any powers?”

You rolled your eyes, “Cut the shitty small talk. Why am I here?”

“To answer my fucking questions.”

You looked down at your arm, noting a small cuff wrapped around it, “If I tell you, will you take the stupid power dampener off?”

He snorted, “Don’t act dumb.”

“Oh, good, then I’m not telling you.” You did have a power. It was part of why Wilbur felt comfortable being around you. You were also a mind manipulator, but you couldn’t get people to actually do things for you. You could just easily see through their words and arguments. Which meant that you could get them to believe you were telling the truth as well, which would be a bloody good thing to be able to utilize right about now.

“Fine, be like that.” He held up a photo, “So, if you won’t tell me your power, maybe you’ll tell me why Siren has had such a close eye on you?” You looked at the photo closer, being able to clearly make out Siren walking you home.

“He’s just a nice dude. Wants to walk me home sometimes,” you shrugged, trying to act nonchalantly, “I don’t know much about him if that’s what you’re wondering.”

He snorted, “Yeah, like I’d believe that.” He pulled out a folder, spreading out numerous photos of you and Siren, hanging out and eating together in your apartment.

“Have you been fucking stalking me, you absolute creep?”

“Not you, but Siren. You just happened to be there. And I wanna know why.”

“What? You’re mad that a citizen can show compassion to a villain?” You scoffed, “Boo-hoo, poor Schlatt, must be such a sad life you have.”

He growled, and you grinned at how easy it was to get under his skin, even without your power. “I couldn’t give less of a shit about that. I want to know why he’s trying to recruit new Syndicate members.”

You laughed, “God, you could not have worse of a grasp on the situation. He’s just a nice guy. Came to my bookstore once, offered to walk me home, and we became friends. Is it impossible for villains to have friends?”

“Supervillains don’t have friends. Not without an agenda.”

“What about their healer? He’s a friend, isn’t he?”

“He works for them. He doesn’t count.”

“Well, I clearly don’t work for them. So just leave me alone, why don’t you?”

“Okay, I will let you go. If you tell me one thing.”

Oh, here came the stupid request. “Oh? Let me guess? You want me to tell you Siren’s real name.”

“Obviously.”

“Do you really think he’s that stupid? To let a random civilian he met know his name?”

“No. But I know you’re not just a random civilian he met. Because these photos date back years.”

You tensed a bit, trying to hide any clear facial reaction, “And?”

“And, no one who doesn’t work with him would stick around that long, unless there was something keeping them there. So, you obviously know who he is.”

“Oh, obviously?” You tried to will down the blush on your cheeks. “Is it really that obvious? You don’t know anything about me, and you clearly don’t know anything about Siren.”

“So tell me what I don’t know.”

You rolled your eyes, “I’m not falling for that, dipshit. If you want information on Siren, you’ve got the wrong person.”

“Yeah, except that can’t be true. I know you have a power you’ve been hiding, and we know that Siren has spent a highly significant amount of time with you, longer than he ever did their healer. And, we have photos of you with him and other Syndicate members at your apartment. So we know you know his identity. But we can figure out other ways to make you talk.”

“Wow, so you’re adding misuse of power against a civilian to your list of crimes? That combined with the kidnapping, not to mention the murder and the numerous times you’ve hurt civilians and destroyed their homes, oh and getting discharged as a Hero?”

That got under his skin, “I have no problem adding torture onto that list.”

“So much for being a hero then.”

His fists curled up, and he slammed it down on the table, “ex-hero, for a reason.” He walked closer, crouching down to be eye-level with you. “So then, you’re really trying to tell me that the numerous dates you’ve gone on with Siren just don’t mean anything?”

“We- They weren’t dates!” Your face flushed dark red, “We’re just friends!” You blatantly tried to ignore the fact that you’d been in love with him for years.

“Your face is telling a different story,” he smirked, “Is he hot under the mask? Or maybe you just like a man with power?”

You moved back from his hand, jaw tensing, as he tried to cup your jaw, “Hm, well, if you aren’t saying anything willingly, I can make you talk.”

He stood again, walking over to the second briefcase, opening it to where you couldn’t see the contents. You didn’t know if you wanted to. “Plus, this is all just a distraction.” He lifted your phone, turning it on, “They’ll be here soon enough. I won’t need you then, I can take down the Syndicate myself.”

A shiver went down your spine, and you prayed that Wilbur hadn’t noticed your absence.

Tubbo was able to find you pretty quickly. Just when he’d thought your phone was too far for a proper ping, he got one with an exact location that he quickly relayed to Siren. Siren was on it almost immediately, but he wasn’t going in alone. He didn’t know who took you, so he was going to be prepared. By enlisting most of the Syndicate to join him. He made it to the location first, but he knew better than to jump in early, especially since he was one of the least physical fighters. He did some surveying, though, spotting a few guards in suits. Suits were the tell of Schlatt, and he mentally cursed the team members for not getting there as fast as he’d wished. He knew Schlatt could be violent, unpredictable, and hot-headed.

The rest of the Syndicate arrived, and Nemesis and Thanatos made quick work of taking down the guards. Which meant it was time to take down Schlatt.

You’d lost track of time. Schlatt had some interesting methods for getting you to talk. Most of them involve hitting you, his ability making it easy to hurt you, if the broken nose and cut lip were anything to go by. But a lot of it was mental. Using taunting words to try and get under your skin.

“It’s going to be so funny when you’re little boyfriend comes here,” he snickered, grabbing your jaw to make you look up at him, “It’ll be even better to make you watch him die.”

He almost seemed drunk the more and more he continued, “Or, maybe, I could hurt him more. Make him watch me kill you slowly. Or,” he chuckled, but the laughter quickly turned maniacal, “I’ll let him kill you. I’ll make him use that shitty fucking voice of his to kill you.”

You snorted, and he raised an eyebrow, “Something about that funny to you?”

You looked up at him, spitting blood out of your mouth, “His voice is real nice, actually. Much better than yours.” You were playing with fire, but you needed to buy time to get him hopefully exhausted enough to give you a chance to escape.

He smacked you, a loud crack reverberating and echoing throughout the warehouse.

“You piece of shit,” he rolled his eyes, moving away from you. He grabbed a water bottle, downing half of it easily. You watched cautiously, becoming all too aware of how thirsty you were.

“What? You want some or something?” He chuckled, walking back over to you, “Be my fucking guest,” he poured the water over your head. You tilted your head back and drank some of it down. Once you’d gotten some of it in your mouth, though, you quickly realized that it was not, in fact, water but instead vodka. You coughed once you realized, spitting out as much as you could.

He laughed as you hissed in pain, the alcohol stinging the wounds he’d left. He went to throw another retort at you, but before he could, the door slammed open.

Just as Schlatt predicted, the entire Syndicate was there. You sat up, watching as Schlatt moved back to his briefcase and pull out a syringe.

“Siren, run!” You yelled, thrashing and trying to draw attention to yourself, “All of you! Run! It’s a trap-”

You weren’t able to finish your sentence as Schlatt stormed over, grabbing you by the hair. “Oh, Jesus, just shut up with your whining,” he rolled his eyes, hitting your temple harshly, sending the chair to the ground and you with it. The ground rushed up to meet you, and the darkness of unconsciousness was quick to follow.

Siren was pissed. Blade quickly began to advance on Schlatt, but Wilbur was faster. It was stupid, he knew he was being stupid to rush in like this, but he was angry. He watched as Schlatt quickly injected himself with something, some odd shimmering yellow liquid, and in seconds, his body started glowing the same yellow. Power enhancers, Wilbur’s mind supplied. He cursed, hanging back to allow Blade to hit first. Zephyrus flew overhead, getting behind Schlatt to prevent him from running. As much as Wilbur wanted to fight, he needed to make sure you were okay.

He rushed over, grabbing a knife from the table that he prayed hadn’t been used on you. The first thing he did when he approached you was check your pulse, thanking anything that would listen that your pulse was still coming through. He cut the ties easily, then he moved onto the power dampener, trying to pry the thing off. He had no clue where the key for it was, but he didn’t have time to waste looking for it. He started breaking it off when he was tugged back, Schlatt having grabbed the back of his collar. He slammed Siren against the wall, grinning at him.

“For a world-class supervillain, you’d think you’d be smarter,” he chuckled, leaning his knee against Siren’s back and pinning him there. He pushed all of his power into his knee, strengthening and solidifying the metal against Wilbur’s back. “You know how easy it was for me to track them down? You made them an easy target, Siren. You’re the reason they’re here,” he pushed his knee further into his back.

“Let me go,” Siren ordered but to no avail.

Schlatt started laughing louder, “What, you think I’m an idiot? You thought I wouldn’t prepare my mask for you?”

Fuck.

Siren didn’t have to fret much longer, though. Blade came up behind Schlatt, driving a sword through his shoulder. He’d put too much power into his knee, leaving the rest of him vulnerable.

The rest of the takedown was easy. They were planning on taking Schlatt in, hopefully, to use as a bargaining chip against the Hero Committee since he was wanted by them. Once Zephyrus had him subdued, Nemesis and Thanatos grabbed his things and started heading back. Siren lingered with Zephyrus, Jester, Blade, and Ender (who’d only shown up to help take anyone who needed healing to Apollo). Siren walked over, ripping Schlatt’s mask off.

Schlatt was still spilling curses and threats against them, but he’d quieted for a moment as Wilbur pulled his mask off, eyes adjusting to the light. Wilbur threw the mask behind him, and a sinister grin spread over his face.

“We need him alive, Siren,” Blade reminded him.

He groaned, huffing softly, “Fine.” He hummed, tilting his head.

“Claw your left eye out, then knock yourself out.”

Wilbur didn’t stay to watch the aftermath, but he heard the groans and screams of pain from Schlatt as he walked back over to you. Ender was waiting next to you, double-checking for any serious wounds.

Wilbur got the rest of the power dampener off, throwing it to the side. He carefully lifted you, making sure to be mindful of your head.

Ender gave him a concerned look, "It looks bad, but they should be okay."

“No, not should be.” Siren snapped his head towards Ender, shaking his head, “I need them to be okay. Bring us to Apollo.”

Ender nodded, placing a hand on Siren’s shoulder. In seconds, they disappeared in a flurry of purple particles, appearing now in Apollo’s clinic in the Syndicate building.

Tommy was sitting by the desk, playing on his DS. He perked up quickly when he heard Ender teleport in, looking up and seeing Siren cradling you. Siren moved forward, placing you down on the doctor’s mat in the center of the room.

Tommy quickly walked over, “Jesus, man, what the fuck happened?” He placed his hands near your head, warmth emitting over them as he began healing you.

“Schlatt happened. But he won’t be a problem anymore,” Wilbur huffed, tearing off his blindfold and coat, draping them over a chair. He paced around the room as Tommy worked on healing.

“You’re going to burn a hole in the floor,” Tommy huffed.

“I couldn’t care less, Toms. They weren’t supposed to be involved with any of this, I’ve fucked it up again, I-I put them in danger,” Wilbur ran a hand through his hair.

Tommy straightened, pulling his hands away as he finished healing, “Don’t start with your self-deprecating shit, man. They know you’re Siren. They’ve stuck around, and they always knew this could happen. You’re not to blame.”

“But I-”

“You weren’t the one who kidnapped them. It’s not your fault,” Tommy sighed, grabbing a glass of water.

Wilbur nodded, walking up to you, still unconscious, “They- they’ll be fine, right? They’ll be okay?”

Tommy took a sip of his water, nodding, “Yeah. Head injury was the worst of it, but it should be all healed up now. They might be a bit foggy when they wake up, though.”

“When will they wake up?”

Tommy shrugged, “Should be soon. Probably an hour or two. Can’t give you an exact time. You should get them somewhere more comfortable before they’re up, though.”

Wilbur nodded, carefully picking you back up, “Thanks, Tommy.”

“You don’t have to thank me, man, it’s my job.”

Wilbur rolled his eyes, “I want to thank you, dickhead. Now, go to sleep, child.”

“I am n-” Wilbur cut off Tommy’s response by closing the door to Tommy’s clinic behind him. He called Techno, and within a few minutes, Wilbur was being driven home with you still resting in his arms.

“They’re going to be fine, you know that.”

“I know they will be, but they never should’ve been there in the first place. They never asked for this.” Wilbur sighed.

“Oh, please.” Techno snorted, “You tried to scare them away way back when. You even used your ability to try and convince them to not want to be around you.”

“Yeah, but that’s not the same. They turned down the offer to join the Syndicate, which meant they never should’ve been involved with this stuff.”

“Maybe you should ask again,” Techno shrugged. “Even if they don’t want to fight, we could use someone to help out with questioning people. Their ability would work pretty well for that.”

“Techno, I just said they shouldn’t have been involved with this stuff.” Wilbur sighed.

“All I’m saying is if they do become a member, it would be a lot easier to keep them safe. Less loose ends that we can’t keep our eyes on.”

Wilbur bit his lip, nodding with realization, “True. I- yeah. I’ll ask them.”

“Plus, with how in love with them you are, it won’t be long before something like this happens again.”

“I- What?” Wilbur spluttered, eyes widening, “How-?”

“How do I know that? Wilbur, it’s insanely obvious,” Techno laughed, “I have no clue how they don’t know.”

“They won’t know. And you won’t tell them.” Wilbur hissed out.

“Mmhm, okay, sure. Pretty big wimp move for a supervillain.”

Wilbur groaned but didn’t respond past that.

The rest of the car ride was quiet, Wilbur gently playing with your hair gently. He routinely moved a hand to check your pulse, just as a reminder that you were fine and alive and here with him.

He carried you out of the car once Techno pulled up, heading straight to his room. He laid you down gently, placing your head on his lap.

The world seemed fuzzy when you came to. You were too comfortable to open your eyes at first, shifting slightly and letting out a soft groan. Your joints felt sore and stiff, but your face felt even weirder. Your face felt warm but like all of your muscles were new and had never been used before. You scrunched your nose, slowly opening your eyes and letting them get used to the environment around you.

You recognized the room instantly and relaxed as the memories started flooding back to you. The kidnapping, Schlatt, getting knocked out. You heard humming, looking up to see Wilbur leaning against the wall, humming with his eyes closed. He was fidgeting with his fingers and biting at his lip.

You slowly shifted to look up at him fully, “Hey.” Your voice was groggier than you’d expected.

He looked down quickly, “You’re up,” he smiled, “Hi.”

“Did everything go well? With Schlatt?”

He laughed, shaking his head, “God, you just woke up from getting knocked out and tortured, and the first thing you ask is if the fight went well?” He moved a hand to your hair gently, “Are you okay?”

“Well, yeah,” you shrugged, “I feel fine, just a bit tired, I guess. I feel like I’m supposed to feel worse.”

“Tommy healed you,” he supplied.

You sat up slowly, and he carefully placed a hand on your back, keeping it there until you’d gotten in a better position. “He didn’t have to do that. I would’ve been fine.”

“You would’ve had a concussion and a fracture in your skull.”

“That’s not the worst thing in the world.” You joked and gave him a lopsided grin, and he shook his head, chuckling.

He pulled you into a tight hug, “I’m so fucking glad you’re okay.”

You hugged him back, burying your face against him gently, “I would’ve been fine.”

You were lying. You were not fine, actually. As strong as you acted, you couldn’t deny the slight shake that lay in your hands as you thought about that warehouse and the overwhelming fear the image of that mask in your head put in you.

You could’ve used your ability to make Wilbur believe you. You didn’t honestly have the energy to do so.

“You don’t have to be fine,” he whispered, rubbing your back gently, “I know how terrifying it must’ve been. But it’s okay, you’re safe now.”

Your fists balled up the fabric of his sweater, and the tears started falling soon after. He rubbed your back as you cried, the waves of fear and stress finally coming out. You could only hold it together for so long, and Wilbur would always be there when you finally broke.

By the time you calmed down, you were left with soft gasps of breath and holding Wilbur like a lifeboat. He leaned over to his nightstand, handing you a glass of water. After a moment’s hesitation, he placed a gentle kiss on your forehead.

You drank slowly, not wanting to overwhelm yourself. Wilbur’s kiss didn’t exactly help, but physical affection wasn’t something new to either of you.

As if he knew exactly what you were thinking, he wrapped his arms around you gently, leaning his face against your shoulder. You leaned into his touch, letting your eyes close for a moment.

“He was stalking me. Well, he was stalking you, but he had photos from years ago of us. Of Siren walking me home. Of Blade at my apartment. Of Zephyrus in my living room.”

Wilbur tensed, keeping you a bit closer. “I’m so sorry.” He whispered, “I-I never should’ve let you get involved with the Syndicate stuff, I was so stupid to think something like this wouldn’t happen.”

“Wilbur, you never let me get involved. In fact, you were the one pushing me from getting involved. I chose this. I knew something like this could happen, and I chose to stick by you.”

“You’re not a member of the Syndicate, though. I know you can protect yourself, but I don’t want to be the reas-”

“Wilbur.” You hissed out. “If you even for a moment insist again that this is your fault, I will use my ability to make you believe that the best way to sleep is by falling out the window.” He bit his tongue from responding, nodding. “I didn’t turn down the Syndicate offer because I thought it would keep me safe.” You reached for his hand, taking it and squeezing it tightly. You didn’t know if it was your foggy mental state that made the idea of confessing your feelings so appealing or if it was just the residual fear in your system, but you didn’t care regardless.

“Why did you turn it down, then?” Wilbur asked softly.

“I turned down the Syndicate offer because I was worried about working with you.” You sighed, “It’s hard to focus around you, Wilbur.”

“Me? I don’t understand, we’ve been best friends for years, why would..?”

“That’s the problem. It’s hard to focus around you because I am constantly wishing that you would love me back.”

You held your breath once the words left your mouth. Wilbur pulled away from you, and you felt your heart drop.

“Do you mean that?” He asked softly, moving to sit in front of you.

You nodded, unable to respond further in fear of the tears resurfacing.

Wilbur reached a hand out, pausing and hesitating for a moment. He continued though, gently cupping your cheek.

“Can I kiss you?”

Your eyes widened. “Only if you mean it.”

He smiled softly, leaning forward and kissing you hard. You wrapped your arms around his neck, holding him close as you kissed him back, putting all the passion behind it that you’d wanted to for years.

When he pulled away, you rested your forehead against his, catching your breath slowly. He smiled, fingers lightly tracing your arms.

“So… about joining the Syndicate then,” you started.

He laughed, pulling away to grin at you, “You don’t have to decide anything tonight. But it would be really nice. You probably wouldn’t be on the front lines, but we’d love to have you. Plus, we’d be able to see each other a lot more.” He grinned.

You smiled, “Well, I’ll give you a formal answer in the morning. But as for an informal one, I’d fucking love it.”

He grinned, holding you close once more. You ran your hands up and down his back gently, and he hissed in pain when you reached the midpoint of his back. You pulled away.

“Will? You alright?”

He gave a thumbs up, and you smirked, “Say it out loud.”

He groaned, “I am alright. I am perfectly fine.” You could feel the pressure of his words in your head, and they almost sounded distorted. A clear lie.

“Let me see your back.” You smiled, and he groaned.

“You know how much I hate that I can’t lie to you?” He huffed, turning and pulling his sweater up.

“I know, I know,” you took a good look at his back, frowning at the dark bruise on his back, “Wilbur, you have a huge bruise. Are your ribs okay? It looks like some might be cracked.”

“They feel fine,” he shrugged. The pressure returned to your head, and this time you could feel a sensation of burning below your hands. A big lie, then.

“...I’m texting Tommy.”

“No, do not!”

You already had your phone out, texting Tommy to ask for him to come as soon as possible, both for Wilbur and so you could thank him for healing you.

“Too late,” you smiled, and Wilbur huffed, pulling his sweater back down.

He wrapped an arm around you again, kissing the top of your head, “You’re lucky I love you, Aletheia.”

“I am,” you smiled softly. There was no pressure or warm sensation. He did love you. He meant it. “Alethia? God of… truth, right?”

He nodded, “It’s Techno’s codename for you. He chose it out months ago.”

You smiled fondly, “Cool. Has a nice ring to it.”

He nodded, “I agree. And for what it’s worth, I’m lucky too.” He smiled, and you gave him a gentle kiss.

“We’re both lucky. Maybe our duo name could be Tyche.”

“Oh, god, I’m going to have to deal with so many more Greek mythology references with you in the Syndicate, aren’t I?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

#mar writes #wilbur soot #wilbur soot x reader #mcyt x reader #dsmp x reader #lovejoy #wilbur x reader #medlar :3 #siren wilbur soot #tommyinnits clinic for supervillains #siren x reader #sirenbur #siren wilbur soot x reader #clinic!wilbur #clinic wilbur soot

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liveontelevision · 3 months

Text

The Truth | Slow-burn Lucifer x Reader

Ok, i'm high, and it's late, so im posting this here without an ending just to let some people see this. Im wondering if anyone would be interested in a multi part series with this premise? It'll have its romance and fluff and smut, but i feel like theres alot to disect from this.

Unedited.

Heaven has been, and will continue to be, difficult with this redemption project. It took years for them to set up any sort of communication system with Charlie to even tell her when Sinners were redeemed. And even then, the best they could offer was a large counter hanging across the marquee outside the hotel. It simply said Redeemed Souls scribbled across the top and essientally would *ding!* every time a soul would ascend. There was no warning. Residents would simply disappear; all their belongings were left behind, and it happened while asleep or when demons died. Instead of resurrecting like all wayward sinners do, they would simply.. not. It would get gruesome at times, seeing a demon die and simply not get back up.

Still, the numbers grew. After the hotel was proven to work, sinners were essientally packing the rooms. And when more demons were redeemed, Charlie would take notes on their progess and apply it to future excersises. It was finally a thriving business! Charlie did it.

You had heard of the hotel's success a few months after the counter was installed and would occasionally walk by to see the number go up. It felt like you were trying to convince yourself to just go in, but something, maybe doubt, would always stop you. Your life was similar to an average sinner (drugs, sex, alcohol), but even those who have done worse were going to Heaven.

What was stopping you?

For once, the streets actually looked barren. Of course, it still had enough flow for regular business. Not everyone was buying into the redemption thing, but it definitely couldn't compare to the bustling streets you were used to. This made you uneasy. Friends and local business owners, you became aquintances with disappeared suddenly. It was deathly quiet. Discomfort aside, how could you possibly be upset about sinners becoming sparce?

You gave in. Almost all your hellbound friends were gone. If they could do it, so could you. Maybe that was another reason sinners attended the hotel; sheer loneliness.

You packed up the little belongings you had and approached the hotel after avoiding it for the past few months. The number was in the thousands at this point. Why did that make you so uneasy? Pushing those feelings aside, you entered the hotel and were met with dozens of friendly faces. The lobby had become a giant bustling hub with a bar, and there were some classroom type areas down a hall, you assumed for activities. Lively jazz music was playing softly throughout the area, echoeing against the ivory walls adorning red banners. It seemed like some kind of conference was being held here, but this was just how the hotel looked at its peak.

You were quickly ushered to a front desk, an imp checking you in and handing you a folder filled with paperwork and pamphlets.

After being shown to your room on one of the higher floors, assuming the rooms below were all filled, you were met with the sweet aroma of freshly baked apples. It seemed to come directly from your room, but peeking inside, you noticed there was no sign of even a personal kitchen. Before you could even ask, the imp who led you to your room ran through their scripted introduction.

"Your room number is 5 and is located on the 67th floor if you missed it. If you get lost, just make sure you head as far as you can go down the corridor to the left. It's closer to Lucifer's office than Alastor's studio, so keep that in mind as well. The room was personalized to your liking the moment you checked in, so all you need to do is unpack your belongings."

The imp droaned on, clearly exhuasted from saying these directions to every sinner that comes through.

"Any questions -"

"Well, I-"

"Can be answered in the lobby."

Your quizzative appearance drooped to an irrated one. You barely processed anything they said as you stepped into the room, feeling such a nostalgic warmth. The apple scent from before had dulled to a more comfortable level, and the room was filled to the brim with an aesethic that you would dream of having when you were alive. Suns and moons decorated the walls through hanging pieces, tapestries, and beaded artwork. The lights were always dimmed, and your bed was plush with an absurd amount of decorative pillows. Your desk doubled as a vanity with adjustable lights just in case, and your bathroom was large. Already stocked with your favorite soaps, oils, and washes, you suddenly had the urge to take a bath. You decided against it, just taking in the heavenly room. Maybe that was a part of the whole process, pure comfort.

You had so many questions about the redemption process. After plopping down at your smooth wood desk, you began to look through the thick pile of paperwork that you'd been holding this whole time. Inside, it held your room key, 67th Floor, Room #5. You pocketed that in the meantime, flipping through a pamphlet provided. "Wayward sinners, welcome! Explore the history of Hell and the redemption process! Keep in touch with demonic friends as you ascend! Be Better!" The bright text made your eyes squint, quickly scanning it before setting that aside. It's something you've seen on the streets before, nothing new. You finally look at some of the paperwork. There were rules, like no weapons or drugs, avoiding flings, etc. Then there were policies.. your room was searched on occasion with consent. If you were found to be a frequent drug user, you had a daily limit for drinks at the bar. Those made you cringe. It's a bit controlling, but for a greater cause, I guess.

Then, you reached the bolded text Redemption.

It had almost no details about what Heaven was actually like, but there were rules. Lots of rules. These papers were almost glowing, and it looked like they were written in golden ink. These must have been provided by Heaven. They warned that "the divine light will choose you when it finds you worthy" and "you won't need any belongings in Heaven" and a specific section that made you shiver.

"Heaven is a place for winners. Once you've joined the angels, all memories from Hell will become void. Memories from Hell could bring distraught and discomfort to previously residing angels."

Who would want this? What have you gotten yourself into?

•••••

There were mandatory meetings you would begrudgingly go to. There were other demons in a similar state and others who were running to attend every activity possible. They must not have read the paperwork, too frantic to be saved. Or were they okay with it? You shake your head, honestly trying to forget those readings any chance you get. A lot of the New Resident meetings were basically warnings that this is a place of rehabilitation. You'll be put through scenarios similar to A.A. or interventions. You'll have control over your privacy, but "we at the hotel are determined to get you to heaven!" So, they'll occasionally do random check ins and such.

After one of your beginner trust exercises, you roamed the halls, peaking in occasionally to see what others were doing. There were activities like yoga, crafts, therapy sessions, it was.. great..

You'd see the founders around. They were speakers at larger conferences, Charlie, Vaggie, and Alastor were far too busy to attend every exercise with this number of residents. There were optional lecture areas, one of them being The History of Hazbin Hotel. After attending from pure curiousity and boredom, you got a good understanding of who all the founders were and their role in the system. There was a nice section on the first 2 souls accepted to heaven. Sir Pentious, previously a murderous death machine inventor and operator, and Angel Dust, previously a drug addicted, porn star.

They wrote it to make them seem worse than they were when they first arrived, probably to make redemption seem more achievable. It made you cringe. You listened on, hearing about Charlie's uprising and her childhood. And her father.

You read the same storybook that Charlie would use to ease her nerves in the past. Lucifer, who was banished to hell, forced to see the wicked and evil outcome of free will. Lucifer, who lost the will the dream. Why would this man want to send his people to such a horrid place? Thinking back on it, you did notice that he wasn't really involved in any activities or was even seen around the hotel. Even Charlie, you'd cross on rare occasions in the halls. She had truly become a beautiful and powerful demon, you'd think, reminiscing on the choatic news broadcast she was on that you watched years ago.

You developed a sort of dissonance for Lucifer. Sure, he was the most powerful being in Hell and physically rebuilt this hotel and its success, but he didn't make sense. It seemed like he hated heaven. How could he not? He was banished from his home by his own brothers, just for loving and dreaming. And he wants to send people right to their door? It just baffled you. Very slowly, it became an obsession. What was his deal? You learned about his life through meetings and lectures, pamphlets, and even material from the infinite library they provided. Your desk was quick to become a mess of books and notepads you'd use. You rarely left your room, making sure to avoid any activities that involved "making friends." That sounded so stupid to you. You'll make friends with demons, then assend just to forget them? You couldn't have been the only demon questioning this whole situation, so why were sinners even here? You spiraled. This whole operation was beginning to make your head spin.

•••

Time went on, and while your mental state was improving, it still didn't break your hyperfixation on where this hotel could've gone wrong. It used to be small and friendly, some sinners would stay, some would give up, and some ascended without them even knowing. But now, it was a bonified operation. Something had to happen in the meantime to change its course so drastically. And you wanted to find out.

On average, sinners were in the hotel anywhere from 6 months to 2 years. A year has passed since you arrived, and while you kicked any addictioms you had, you weren't one to participate in many activities. This obsession drove you mad, clouding any thoughts of redemption you might've had. You had even been appointed a therapist for one on one sessions, which you would go to begrudgingly. You'd spin tails about your life and make it seem like a nostalgic bliss that you wanted to return to, buttering it up for this stranger in front of you. That gave them enough of a distraction to keep them from questioning your research. After this painfully long year, seeing hundreds come and go, you realized you had to go to the top. It seemed like the King of Hell may be the only one who might understand you. In a desperate attempt to get any comfort in your overthinking, you'd talk to other sinners about your thoughts, but they rarely gave you the time of day, like you were a babbling maniac. Because you were a babbling maniac.

But Lucifer? He has to understand. There has to be a reason he's not openly participating in the hotel. But he's here, right down your hall even. It was never as easy as walking up to his office and just questioning him, no matter how often you tried. It was either locked, or you could hear voices from inside. When the door was open, the office was spotless, and no one was inside. This was around meal times, breakfast most often and late into the night. Sometimes, you go inside to snoop and hope that maybe he'd walk in on you and you'd be forced into a conversation before he'd eventually kicked you out. That never happened.

It was a late night for you. There was a gala going on in the lobby, celebrating the 10th reunion of the hotel's renovation or something like that. Of course you didn't go, you were too busy hunched over the paperwork sprawled across your bed. It was a compilation of policies from the papers you got on your first day, random notebook pages and scribbles, and some photos collected from a variety of magazines. You'd essentially given up trying to look presentable. Your hair always tied sloppily out of your face and mainly wearing oversized sweatshirts and shorts that would disappear under the flow of your sweaters. You paced across your room. Every time you stopped to look at your work, you'd become riled up and continued to walk in circles.

"None of it makes sense! What the actual Fuck is wrong with Hell??" You spoke out loud, stopping in your tracks to look at your weakened state in the mirror on your vanity. Suddenly, tears began to run down your cheeks before you could even feel yourself choke up.

"What's wrong with me..?"

You looked back down to your bed and let out a growl, swiping all the papers off your bed in a frenzy. Random papers floated around you, frustration collecting in your body as a headache. You rubbed your temples with a sigh before taking a walk outside the room. You went to a vending machine that was provided on each floor, that had essientally anything you could want as a midnight snack. Along with some other necessities, you used some cash to get painkillers and a bag of gummy candy. Sauntering back to your room, you noticed a trail of your research peaking out your open door. You must've left it open in a hurry. You followed those papers that definitely weren't there before, to see a figure standing in front of your bed, some of the papers in hand. Your stomach dropped, just the sight of someone seeing your vulnerability made you flush.

"H-Hey! I left my door open, but that doesn't mean you can.. just -" your voice trailed off, catching red glowing eyes in your dimly lit room. It was fucking Lucifer. He blinked, his demon red eyes returning to a soft yellow. You had no idea how to react to this sudden encounter, scanning anything in the room to change the subject.

"Your Highness! Right, uh.. Good evening.. sir..? Erm.. How can I help you..?" You attempted to talk to him like you hadnt been secretly wanting this for months. After you managed to finally make eye contact with him, you noticed it; he was crying. Both of you squint at the sudden brightness hitting you, as you turn on your overhead light.

Thick, wet tears fell from his incredibly tired eyes. He looked like a mess. He wore what would've been an incredibly formal and modern tuxedo get up, but was soiled by his stature. His blazer had fallen off his shoulders, revealing a half tucked, wrinkled, black dress shirt that clashed with his porcelain skin. His shirt was unbottoned a good deal, and the tie loosely dangled undone. His face was worse. His eyes were incredibly heavy, those tears still trailing from his eyes to the bottom of his chin. The golden locks that looked so quaffed on magazine covers were a mess as well, strands falling loosely across his eye line. You noticed a soft pink across his entire face and a slight sway to his stance. Once you approached him a little closer, the smell of alcohol immediately hit you. This angel was plastered.

You look at the papers in his hand. One held a very aggressively scribbled picture of his face from a magazine, and the other held an antonized page from the handbook you received on day one. Just from those papers alone, you could understand your motivations. The redemption policy was scrutinized and scribbled over with phrases, "What does this have to do with redemption?" "What happens to your memories?" "Who's really running things?"

On the picture of Lucifer, a large red phrase across the front;

"How could he let this happen?"

You wince, immediately recognizing what information he's taken in.

"You're right.. Fuck, you're right. How did i let things get this far? What would Charlie think if she- Damn it!" He was muttering under his breath, not understanding his intentions.

"I'm sorry, it's such a mess in here, i wasnt expecting guests." You stop yourself, using defensive sarcasm probably wasnt the best move here. "Uh.. you can- um.. here.. " you fumble around your things and finally clear off your desk chair, beckoning the king to sit. He stumbles, his bottom hitting the seat with a thud as it begins to roll back from the force. You let out a nervous chuckle, beginning to neatly pile up the papers on your bed until you had a place to sit, facing him from the edge of your bed." I'm.. sorry, that you saw all this.. it's just crazy.. shit.. I'll get rid of it." You apologized like a kid who got caught stealing. Lucifer slowly blinked his eyes before wiping his tears with the cuff of his shirt, sniffling quietly.

You quickly reached past him to take a nearby tissue box and plop it in his lap. You sat silently, his ragging breath and sniffles filling the quietness of the room. He collected himself enough to process what you had said. "Oh! No, nono need to. Not any of my business what you do in.. your own.. room.." he looked around and cleared his throat before realizing the irony in his words. "I apologize, i shouldnt be in a random sinners room at this hour. I'll be on my way." He spoke as clearly as he could, being drunk and sobbing only moments ago. He stumbled to stand as he attempts to dust off his already askewed suit. He turns his back to you, beginning to leave.

"No! Shit- I - excuse me.. Mr.. Lucifer.. Sir..." You quickly stand and reach your arm out in his direction. He turns on his heels, acting as regal as he could, considering the situation. "This.. mess... this is.. all I've been thinking about since i came here... this hotel..? Is a fucking prison! How can heaven be so stubborn that they have to bring their rules and policies down to Hell? I dont understand how you could -" Your voice became increasingly aggressive as you realize you were about to scold him for your theories. You begin to shrink into yourself, believing this powerful being would kill you on the spot for such disobedience.

Lucifer was looking at you, dumbfound, at the intense passion you were imitting from your words. He realized how much you were cowering in his presence, and the feeling was extra reminiscent of his time in heaven. People above him, glaring upon his dreams with disgust and him not having anything to say. He shook his head and placed a hand on your shoulder. He did his best to send a smile your way, but he wasn't sure how that worked out in his state. "You're right. This hotel has become a god damn nightmare. I wish i could say more, but it's been a looong night." He drawls out his words before using the hand on your shoulder to keep his balance. You took his arm and hesitantly wrapped it around your shoulder, attempting to brace him up as you walk towards his office. It wasnt that far, just right down the hall, it shouldnt be an issue as long as no one sees you." Mmy name is Lucifer- oh, oh! This here, this is my room." He eargly pokes his finger at his obviously labeled door. "Okay Lucifer, think you'll be okay from here?" You try to talk with confidence, while you process that the king of hell is using you to stay on his feet. He nods and opens the door, stepping in with a sigh of relief. He spins around on his feet to face you from the doorframe.

"Be here tomorrow. At lunch. I'll tell you everything." His voice was stern and clear, and you couldn't tell if that was from the alcohol or not. He sways away and grins his toothy grin, saying, "Good night!" He shuts the door before you have a chance to respond. Could that have been drunken babbling? If it wasn't.. what does he know?

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