atriums
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After the harrowing events of Mystic Falls, the Mikaelsons set their sights on the tangled web of New Orleans. The city had once been their seat of power until they were forced to abandon it to fire and blood. The supernatural factions they’d established have long since fallen apart:
Vampires rule with an iron fist. Witches cannot perform magic without fear of death. Werewolves have been cursed to the shadowy swamps of the bayou where they are further away from humanity than they’ve ever been before.
But the city’s complicated web won’t be unraveled so easily, and none will be spared from wrath’s rapture. Not even the unborn miracle baby you carry.
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- Part 2 of Apotheosis / Alkaline
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Slip through the marigolds and please our damaged souls.
Written for a friend. In which I do entirely too much world building as a build up to R76 murderfucking as vampires.
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A Portrait's Symphony by atriums
Fandoms: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
21 Dec 2016
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After over a decade of being just another band, Knights of Ren has finally gotten their big break in the metal scene. However, after the abrupt departure of their co-founder and vocalist, Jessika Pava, the band's activities are on hold until they can find a replacement. Enter Rey, a mononymous YouTube artist with a sizable amount of followers, a cute smile, and an uncanny vocal talent that may be exactly what Knights of Ren need...
08/22/2022: This fic has officially been discontinued. I've struggled for the past 6 years to try to pick it back up again, but so much of this fic reflected the relationship I was in at the time. When I made the choice to move on from that relationship for my health, this was a casualty of that. I apologize sincerely for those that enjoyed this fic and hoped I'd return to it some day.
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The beginning of their unconventional relationship was not what Jongdae expected when he agreed to smoke up with Yixing.
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Once, Miyu thought shogi was the only thing she needed to master.
And then she meets Uchiha Itachi, and she's thrown head-first into an entirely different game.
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- English
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- 407,045
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- 63/?
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Bookmarked by atriums
28 Mar 2026
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Simon has spent his entire life learning the architecture of cages. How to stitch his rage shut. How to swallow the hunger until it sits heavy and cold in his gut.
Then you walk into his orbit. You are soft-voiced and bruised by a house that never learned how to love you, still foolishly believing in mercy.
He tells himself you’re off-limits. You are too fragile, and he is a weapon waiting to misfire.
But obsession is a quiet, creeping thing. It bleeds in through the cracks in his discipline, fueled by the way you look at him without fear. He knows he is cracked glass held together by duty and duct tape. He knows that loving you is an act of violence in itself.
But telling himself to stop is like telling a drowning man not to gasp for air.
He is starving, and you are the only thing that feeds the void. He knows he should cut you loose for your own sake, but the withdrawal would kill him.
So he stays.
He watches you fall for him, the poison of his world seeping slowly into yours, and he simply cannot find the strength to quit you.- Language:
- English
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- 26/?
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Bookmarked by atriums
18 Jan 2026
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⋆⁺₊⋆ 𓃹 ⋆⁺₊⋆
A dark, hooded figure emerged from the dense snowstorm, growing far too tall as it approached. You shuffled back weakly in the bloodstained snow and winced as you jostled the trap clamped on your boot.
“What is this?” the man’s voice rumbled, muffled behind his mask. “You are…not what I expected to catch today.” He crouched and cupped your cheek reverently, as if you were a tiny creature whose delicate bones would snap at a too-rough touch.
You flinched at first — but he was warm, so warm.
“You are very far from home, aren’t you, Kleines Häschen?” he mused, honeyed words drawn out slowly as you relaxed into his palm. “Come, let me tend to your wound. Rest by my fire, just for a little while.”
The man scooped you up from the snow, unresisting. Sleep whispered sweet temptation as you were cradled to his chest, lulled by the blood loss and his steady steps. You gave in to the beckoning darkness, and allowed your heavy lids to close, like he said—
just for a little while.
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Bookmarked by atriums
24 Nov 2025
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Heliophilia: one attracted or adapted to sunlight
Bookmarked by atriums
28 Oct 2025
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You were raised to be good. In a town that worshiped silence and called desire a sin, you learned to swallow every longing whole. The preacher’s daughter: pure, obedient, untouched.
Then came John Price. Thirty-seven. A retired solider with calloused hands and eyes that made you forget how to pray.
He promised no salvation; only euphoria, ruin, and the kind of heaven you weren’t supposed to crave so much.
Bookmarked by atriums
22 Oct 2025