#“you can fade in blissful peace and have one restful gentle happy final day” is very raw for a children's cartoon

[glimeres]

Centaurworld S01E08 - Welcome To The Bay - Rosalie Craig

[catnip--corpse]

When you are feeling sad

When life's become too bad

I can absorb your grief and numb it all away

You can fade in blissful peace

And have one restful, gentle, happy final day

[generallybarzy]

under twinkling lights.

an: christmas in april? sorry this took so long.. but here’s a little bit of established relationship and soft cute Christmas smut! Its been too long since we had something so sweet and smutty about our fav cute ass couple. It’s all sweet and soft and cute and then it gets filthy... the perfect dynamic, i want what they have. i was only inspired to finish this because of barzys hatty tonight haha, he deserves everything. I didn’t really spell check this yet, just needed to post finally!! Personally, I think its the hottest thing I've ever wrote. Lemme know!!! 💕

tagging: @softboybarzal​ @fallinallincurls​ @matbaerzal​ @npatrickz​ @canadianheaters​ @selenophileangel​ @deleausvp​ @colecaufields​ @hockeyhughes11​ @nazdaddy​ @barzysreputation​ @comphybiscuit​ @aboveaveragehockeyboys​ @ifiwasshawnmendesidslapmyself​ @petey-patty​ @starswin​ @heatherawoowoo​ ​

word count: 6.5k

You never believed you’d find someone to spend your life with. If anyone told you your holidays would one day be spent cuddling up with your boyfriend of almost two years in the apartment that you had just moved into together earlier that month, you would have told them they were wrong. Flat out wrong. Things as beautiful and destined as that only happened in movies, and you certainly weren’t lucky enough to get something like that. But, now, here you were.

And here was Mat.

Even after two years with Mat, there was still nothing better than spending the evening cuddled up with him on the couch. No matter how many fancy, expensive dinner dates he took you on at upscale restaurants in the city or how many helicopter rides you took together out in B.C. when he was showing you his home, or how much you loved hanging out with his friends and his family and his teammates, nothing was better than cuddles at home. As much time you spent together, you still felt as giddy and comfortable and safe and at-peace as that first time with him. Things didn't simmer down, that spark didn't fade away after a bit like you feared they would. But they became more subtle. You no longer had to ask him to come to the couch to cuddle, you no longer worried that maybe he wouldn't want to. It was a habit, at this point, to fall into his arms at the end of the day just the same as he did with you. You were each other’s safe havens, the place you laid your head to rest. You loved each other, and there was no place you’d rather be than together.

You’d spent the evening baking cookies, decorating the new tree, and wrapping his family member's Christmas gifts- a book his mom had been wanting, along with some of the cookies you'd made and various at-home spa items; hockey memorabilia and classic jerseys for his dad; and some new pieces of technology and the latest eye shadow palette that his sister had been wanting, along with some stupid jokes gifts that he wrapped in duct tape like the annoying older brother he was. Now, after the sunset bared its last light over the horizon and through your window, you lay together in bliss, with the tree twinkling its colorful lights across the room as you and Mat snuggled on the couch under a fluffy blanket, and everything felt right. 

"I don't know why we went through all that work to decorate the tree if we're not even spending Christmas here." Mat grumbled playfully, his head on your chest, partially hidden under the blanket. 

"Well," your face glowed in a smile as you remembered the flight out to Vancouver you had in a few days. Spending holidays with his family was always your favorite. Your family wasn’t the best, and it wasn’t too healthy to spend your holidays with them, but you always had Mat and his family. They were so welcoming, so kind, and for as many years now as you’d gone as Mat’s girlfriend, they had accepted you like family. "Because this is our home, Mat. It'd be wrong not to decorate it for the first time." 

"I don't need a tree for this to feel like home." 

“Aww, baby.”

“It’s true.” He pushed himself up onto his hands and knees above you on the couch, bringing his face level with yours. His warm breath hit your lips as he brushed his nose against yours, eyes slipping shut and grinning. “I love you. Always.”

“I love you always too.” 

"I'm so glad you're here. I'm so happy we live together, finally." 

"I'm glad we live together, too." 

Mat snuggled down into your neck, the locks of dark hair that had been growing out lately tickling your face. You reached up to brush them aside and curl your hand around the back of his head, cupping his head against you tenderly . His hair was getting so nice and long, and you knew he’d have to cut it soon, per the team's guidelines, but god, you were gonna cherish it now. 

"I actually have something for you, Maty."

"A Christmas present?" 

"Well, an early Christmas present." You smiled at the excited look on his boyish face as he leaned back, the lights from the tree highlighting the sparkle in his eye. "You can't open it at your parent's house, so we're gonna do it here instead."

"What is it?" 

"Try to figure it out." 

He sat up then, his eyes scanning the room for anything that might seem out of the ordinary, anything that might be hidden. He was looking for his present, and you had to hold back a laugh at the sight. 

"Maty…" 

"No, no, I'll find it."

"Babe…"

"I got this."

"Let me give you a hint, at least." You sat up with him and took his hand in yours and cupped it against your cheek, turning your head to the side to kiss his fingers. He smiled at the touch, melting back into you and tracing his thumb across your skin. 

"Alright, gimme the hint."

You pushed his hand down the smooth skin of your neck, the swell of your breasts, down the curve of your waist, and to the hem of his hoodie that swallowed you up. "It's right in front of you, baby." 

"For real?" The joy in his eyes was the same you saw the first time you told him you were ready to take that step, almost two years ago now. No matter how many times you were together, he was always just as excited.

“You say that as if we’ve never done this before.”

“It always feels like the first time.” 

You glowed and let go of his hand to reach up and cup his face between both of you. His words came so simply and without hesitation that you knew he was sincere. “Aw, Mat…”

“I’m serious.” 

“You’re so sweet tonight.”

“Maybe I just really want to lay some love on you.” He hitched his hands under your thighs and tugged you close, lying you back against the couch once again. His hands slid up the soft skin of your tummy and waist, dipping under your shirt momentarily, and causing your breath to hitch in your throat- his hands always managed to do that to you- as you breathed out the words against his lips. 

“Maybe I’m gonna let you.” 

With one last grin, his face dipped down to yours, locking your lips together in a familiar, electric dance. Soft, gentle lips moving against yours had never felt as good as with any other boyfriends as they do with Mat. His touch was intoxicating, made your mind wander and your heart race flushed your skin and shocked you to the core. Ever since the very first time his hand grazed against yours when he reached out to hold it for the first time, to the first time your bodies connected in passion under the covers, it felt the same. Like fire. Even two years later, he drove you insane, and all you wanted, and frequently achieved, was to drive him insane as well. In the best way possible. Mat broke apart from your lips momentarily to slip the hoodie over your head, revealing his gift. “Fuck…”

Right there, in front of his eyes, your breasts were covered only by a lacy crimson fabric, held together behind a pretty red bow. With each heavy breath of anticipation, your chest was heaving softly before his eyes, and he found himself hypnotized by the gentle rise and fall. 

“You like it?"

“Holy shit, you’re hot.” 

“So are you.” 

His eyes were wide, warm, and gentle, looking over you. He dragged his gaze away from your chest even though you could tell how hard it was, and shook his head. “Not as much as you.”

"Mmm", you took the liberty of taking his hands from where they had frozen beside you and placing them, big and warm, over your chest. "Go ahead, baby." 

"No, no, I wanna savor this first."

His mouth dipped down, soft hair tickling your neck as he nibbled at your chest, laying little love bites and kisses along the tender skin. He cupped your boobs and squeezed them around his face, humming in content. You couldn’t help but laugh as he buried his face against you, and you could feel his grin break out against your skin. “Having fun, baby?”

“Oh my god, yes. You’re gorgeous. So soft.” 

“Mmhm.” You sighed into his touch as he kissed his way back up your chest.

“Baby.” He spoke softly to get your attention, and your eyes opened lazily to see him, biting his lip and holding the delicate ribbon between two fingers. “Can I?”

“Please.” He gave a gentle tug, and with one last heave of your chest, the lacy bralette fell open, revealing one of Mat’s favorite parts of your body. 

“Fucking Christ.” 

“Bub, you can’t be swearing like that so close to Christmas.” 

“How do you expect me not to when you’re…. God, just so perfect…” You saw the way his eyes glazed over mid-sentence in the colorful lights of the tree, the way his jaw went slack as you arched your chest up towards him. He reached out, slowly, as if worried you were going to disappear if he moved too quickly, and when the large, rough hands curled around the side of your waist and slid up and down, you felt goosebumps pop up along your skin. 

“Your fingers are cold.”  

“But you love it.” He ran the pad of his thumb over your nipples, watching as they pebbled under his touch in the cold air. “So do I.” 

“Warm me up?”

“Always.”

He dipped his head down, his mouth hot and wet along the peaks and valleys of your chest, down your stomach.

His fingers traveled over the familiar layout of your body, colored in soft golden and red and green in the dancing Christmas lights, tracing each recognizable landmark with specific care- every memorized freckle and birthmark he had kissed since your first night together and every dimple in your skin that he cherished, every spot that had his fingerprints imprinted onto like memory foam after so many nights spent holding you tight with everything in him, as if you'd slip away. As if you'd want to. With each inch his hands followed, he found more, there was always more territory to be marked down, jotted down in his brain for future reference. He was always finding something new. Something more to use against you, to use against you in the best way possible, to push you further and further to that blissful end goal.

He made his way down, down, down, until his breath was hot over your lace-covered core, his hand gripping your hips tightly. Mat smiled as your hands found his hair, curling your fingers through a fistful of the dark locks before releasing and smoothing it back into place again. Mat's favorite thing about going down on you, besides the way it pleasured you, was the way your hands felt on his head, massaging and grabbing and twisting and pulling. It was heaven to him, letting you guide him around like that. 

“Can I take them off?” 

“Hmm.” As much as you wanted him to ravage you right there, with those soft, sultry eyes he was giving you, he was wearing far too many clothes. “You first.” 

Mat didn't say anything else before stripping out of his dark crew neck sweater and jumping up off the couch to kick his gray sweats down. His smile was contagious as your gaze dropped from his face, down his bare chest and the little chain you’d gotten him for your anniversary, down towards the tent in his boxers with a silly, excited grin. He laughed. "Not tired of seeing me yet?" 

"Never."

"You sure you’re not getting bored of my dick yet?"

"No, baby. Definitely not.” You grinned, the thought of spending the rest of your life with him bouncing around your mind. “Why? Are you getting bored of me?"

"No way." Mat leaned down to lace your fingers together and lock lips. "How could I?"

"How could I get tired of you, Maty?"

Mat hummed. He loved this little play, the little banter, the back and forth. He'd loved it since you first started dating, and he always would. He knew you loved him endlessly, but he played along. "I'm just a hockey player."

"No, you're my hockey player. My boyfriend. My pretty, pretty baby."

Mat settled back down between your legs with a warm smile. "Yeah, I am. So can I take these off now?" He hooked his fingers in the waistband of your panties. "C'mon, I know how much you love my tongue."

Your thighs squeezed around him at the words. “Fuck, please.”

“Anything for my baby.” 

You lifted your hips for him as he tugged the lacy fabric down your thighs with nimble fingers, stopping momentarily after they were off to just look at you. He let out a sigh, his eyes finding yours again with a soft look as you squirmed a bit beneath him- not because you were shy, no, you were long past that point in your relationship, but because you just needed him to do anything to you. Mat had spent the past two years helping you love and appreciate your body, and this, right here in this moment, was the perfect showcase of how much he helped- as he was gazing down at your naked body and the only thing you felt was just the absolute need and desire for his body to move against yours and his warmth to cover you up. No nerves. Only love, and need. 

“Shit, you’re gorgeous.” 

“I know.” 

The lack of hesitation in your reply had Mat bending over you and laughing. “That’s your response?”

“Yeah! I mean, you let me know. You make me feel so confident.”

“Mmhm, good, babygirl.” He scooted back down to lay his head against the soft, naked inside of your thigh gazing up at you through his eyelashes. “I always wanna make you feel good. Physically and mentally.” He turned to lay open-mouthed kisses against your thighs, and any thought of response you may have had dissolved completely as you leaned back and waited for him to do his magic. His hand reached up to cup your heat, just feeling you against his palm for a moment before swiping a long finger through your fold, smiling and raising his eyebrows at you. “Oh? Already so wet for me?” 

“Always, baby. You should know this by now.”

“Yeah?” He dipped his fingers at your opening teasingly and his head dipped down to connect his lips with your clit, kissing it gently and watching you squirm. “Ugh, I could fuck you right now if I was in a rush. But you know the foreplay is my favorite part.”

“I know. And you’re so good.” 

“Good.” 

He went silent then, his tongue wide and wet, licking a long stripe along your slick and gathering the wetness at your clit, giving it soft, kitten licks and wet kisses. He listened intently for every soft sigh that left your lips- music to his ears- and felt every tug on his hair when he flicked his tongue in small circles around that spot like he knew you loved. And the best part was that he knew. You didn’t understand how couples could get tired of each other after years. You didn’t understand how the excitement could flicker away or how they could get tired of each other’s bodies or minds. Never in your relationship with Mat have you felt as excited as now, two years in. The thought that he knew your body inside and out, maybe even better than you did, was just so overwhelming in the best possible way, and the longer you lay there, with Mat’s mouth on you, you couldn’t stop thinking that this is your man.   

Mat was lying flat against the long couch, his face between your thighs and his hands holding your legs open for him. His dark hair was a wild mess, and you could see the gentle movements of his lower back and ass and the back of his thighs illuminated golden in the lights, rolling lazily against the couch cushion- covered by a blanket, of course- to provide any friction for his sadly untouched cock. 

You hadn’t even noticed the noises dripping from your lips until Mat pulled back, and the lack of feeling his mouth against your core had you whining for him.

“Fuck, I’ll never get over you.” 

“Mmmmat.” You hummed his name, dragging out the “M” in the way you knew he loved.  

“Yeah, baby?” 

“Please keep touching me.” 

He sat up, between your thighs, knees digging into the couch, and his bare thighs and torso on display for you. You loved him, all of him, and all of his body. His legs, his abdomen, his chest, his arms… all of it was amazing. Perfect to look at and perfect to touch, to grab, to dig your nails into as he railed you. To ground yourself with. “Baby, you know I love eating you out. But I just gotta see you right now. And talk to you.” His big hand slid up the inside of your thigh, and your breath caught in your throat when he started rubbing soft, small circles against your clit. “So this position will have to do, okay? I promise I’ll spend all day before our flight eating your pussy.”

“I’ll remember that.” 

“I hope so. God, this fucking thing. Could eat it for days.” He pushed a single finger inside you, slow and steady, but enough to make you clench around him. His fingers were so much better than yours, just a little longer and a little thicker in a way that had you squirming for more. “So fucking tight and wet. So hot. I’m so lucky to have you.” His free hand left your hip, leaving nothing but cold, empty fingerprints on your skin, and rubbed against the bulge in his dark boxers. You could see how much he was aching, and you were determined to make it better. 

“Mat, c’mere.” 

“I’m knuckles deep in your pussy, babe, how much closer do you want me?” You laughed at him, rolling your hip down against said finger. How he could be so funny and sexy at the same time was beyond you.

“Lie down with me. I wanna touch you.” You held your arms out for him and scooted to the side, and he obliged quickly, lying on his side between you and the back of the couch and hooking your left leg over his right thigh. His hand dipped back down between your thighs, pressing into you before you could even catch your breath, feeling exhilarated at the much more intimate position. “Oh, fuck, Mat.” You reached out to him, willing and eager to reciprocate the feeling. He drew in a sharp breath at the way your hand rubbed over the thick bulge in his boxers, pulling the waistband down just enough to release him from his cotton prison.  

His cock jumped up against his lower belly, stiff and pink and needy for you and only you. Your hand, your mouth, and you could tell by the way Mat’s fingers paused inside you that he was anticipating the moment your fingers wrapped around his length. “Oh, that feels so good. Always does, baby.” And then, as you worked your hand against him, he pumped his long fingers inside you, bringing his other thumb to rub mercilessly at your clit. But still, even with the way he was fucking you on his hand, the most intense part of this moment was the way he held your gaze; the lust, the need, the twinkle of amusement in his hazel eyes at the sheer amazement that he got to do this with you; and the love- the pure, unadulterated love that soaked from his skin to yours, in every touch, in ever moment spent together, every kiss, and every time you laid together, bare and vulnerable, in the heat of passion, under the twinkling lights or in the dark, safe haven of your home to show each other how much you loved each other. His warm eyes glittered in the light, reflecting the gold and green and red lights from the Christmas tree that illuminated the room, and the city lights outside the window of your apartment lit up his body and highlighted every muscle. Your apartment, the one you own together, and the one you knew you were going to make countless memories in. His eyes glittered with love, with the question of “can you believe we still make each other feel so good?” and with the statement “I want to kiss you so bad right now”. Your hand pumped his length, pulling a soft moan from his lips, one that you had used to have to work so hard to hear. “I want to hear you, baby” You had used to say, practically begging him to let himself go as he bit his lip to hold back the moans. It had taken a bit of encouragement, but now he never held back with the sounds that left his pretty mouth. You lay there, vulnerable and exposed to each other, staring into each other’s eyes as with hands between each other's thighs, cheeks pink and hearts full of love as you helped each other climb to that climax. 

You broke eye contact first, laughing breathlessly and feeling your cheeks go hot under his gaze. Despite the lack of shame you felt in front of him, he could still get you so flustered and giggly. 

“What’s so funny, beautiful?” He asked between shaky breaths. 

“You’re so beautiful, Mat. Those moans are so pretty. I can’t believe it.”

“Yeah?” He smiled with another laugh. “I can feel how wet you are. It’s crazy.” He slipped the tip of a third finger into you, your hole aching and pulsing around them already. “Oh, fuck, I love your moans too.” And you could tell he did, as his hips jerked helplessly up into your hand. “Faster, baby.” 

“Only if you kiss me.” 

Without hesitation, he leaned over and his lips locked onto yours, needy and begging but oh, so willing to go slow and passionate. The hand that had been teasing your clit came up to grab at you face, squeezing a tit on the way up, and you reached a free hand out to tangle in his dark hair as you leaned in and continued to jerk him in your hand- up and down, and up and down, twisting around the head just like he liked. “I love you.” He whispered against your lips, breaking apart for only a moment to look down at you one more time in awe. “I love you so fucking much.” 

“I love you, Mat.” 

“Fuck, I love you.” His lips crashed back against yours again, his fingers plunging deeper inside you as he kissed his promise into your lips, the promise that he was there and he’d always be there. He was yours. And you were his. Simply that. The heel of his palm rubbed against your clit as he curled his fingers inside of you, hitting that wonderful spot and making fireworks twinkle behind your eyes. He groaned into your mouth as your hand curved over the head of his cock, palms getting slick with his pre-cum, and stroked back down to cup his balls gently. He let out a breathy laugh at the tender feeling. 

“Baby, look at me.” You cupped his cheeks between your hands and pulled him back when you began to feel your peak rising. He whined when your hand left his cock, aching and hard, and his fingers halted inside of you, cupping his palm against your heat.

“Oh, baby,” His eyes locked on you, making a show of how they were scanning up and down your body. “I’m looking.”

“I need you inside, right now.”

His bottom lip was sucked between his teeth and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head at the words. Even after so long, he still couldn’t handle hearing those words. His eyes fluttered shut. “Fuck, say less.” He rolled over you to sit upright on the couch, finally pushing his boxers all the way down his thighs and onto the floor. He gripped his cock in his hands and slid between your thighs, bending down over you to kiss your lips. “How do you want it?”

“Just like this.” Your hands fell to his hips and pulled him close. 

“Yeah?”

“Wanna see your face. Maybe it’s basic, but I love this position.”

“Yeah. It’s simple, but so intimate. I like it too.” He paused and leaned back for a moment, looking down at his sweatpants on the floor for something. “Shit, ugh, I don’t have a condom here, hold on-” 

“No, no, no.” Before Mat could run off to the bedside drawer, you grabbed his hands in yours, pulling him back to you. His eyes went soft and cautious for a few moments. 

“No? Babe, shouldn’t we…” 

“We’ve had conversations about this, right? About doing it without?” Mat nodded, a little smile beginning to pull on his lips. “I’m still on the pill, and I know I remembered to take all of them recently, so we’re still pretty safe, if you want.” 

“Fuck, I want.” He settled back down between your knees. “Are you sure?”

“A hundred percent.” 

“Alright.” Mat chuckled in boyish excitement. He reached a hand down between your bodies to adjust himself, nudging the blunt head of his cock against your clit and rubbing his pre-cum along your slit, lining up with your tight entrance and sending sparks through your body. “God, my God, I can’t wait to come inside you. Feel you around me completely. See my cum on you.” One last time, he bent his body down over yours, his weight warm and heavy, the metal of his chain cool between your chests, and pressed his mouth to yours, breathing in your warmth. One of your hands curled around his waist, slid to the small of his back, just like he always did to you, and the other cupped the back of his neck, fingers curling into the hairs and playing with the chain around his neck and pulling him in closer to your face. He broke away slightly with a sigh against your lips, his forehead bumping against yours and his nose nudging yours in a familiar gesture. He didn’t need to say the words anymore, because his quiet affections were ones that you’ve known for a long time. 

His question was loud and clear, and your answer was just as obvious. 

Mat brought a forearm down next to your head to steady himself, stroking the pad of his thumb against your warm cheek as his hips finally pushed against yours. Hands tightened their grips on each other’s bodies, sliding across hot skin slicked with sweat, and a euphony of moans mingled together in the air at the initial feeling of finally being connected in such a primal way again. His hips were flush against your own, and the weight of his thick cock inside of you was heavy and intoxicating; you could feel his tight abdomen expanding and contracting with every heavy breath and shudder through his body. He let out a long string of moans, his head dipping down to nibble at your throat, and fuck, did you know what he meant. You were connected, everywhere- heart, skin, and mind. “Fuck, oh my God, baby, hot as ever.” 

“Oh, Maty…” 

“I’m gonna give you so much love, beautiful.”

“Please.” 

The first withdrawal of his hips from yours was painstakingly slow, and all you wanted was for him to plunge back in again and again and again. And he intended to do that, in time. Mat loved to take his time, but it didn’t take him long to fulfill his promise, sliding back against you, his cock hard and aching inside your wet cunt. He found a steady, easy pace rolling his hips into yours, each stroke like electricity through your body, long and languid, taking his time to draw your pleasure out, taking the time to feel your body around him. His knee dug into the couch hard, steadying himself and getting more traction so he could pull closer to your body, snapping his hips against yours with slaps that had you both gasping for air. 

“Oh fuck…” 

“Feels so good, Mat.”

“You’re fucking amazing.” He let out another high-pitched whine and arched your leg over his hip. “More?”

“More, faster, please baby.” 

His hips slapped against yours with a groan, his big hands holding behind your knees and opening you wide for him. He leaned back to take a good look at you, at the scene in front of him, trying to take in every image he possibly could. Because these were the best moments. Not only the sex- god, but the sex was good- but just being together, being close, being intimate and so so close, yet only craving to become closer and closer. “God, you’re so hot, babe. So tight, so wet, all for me, right?” When you couldn’t answer, too overwhelmed with the way he was pounding against you, he took it as a sign to keep running his mouth. God, you loved to listen to him talk. “So wet, all for me. Getting all turned on over this big cock inside you, yeah?” You nodded your head enthusiastically, pulling his body closer to yours. He followed without hesitation, down and down until your bodies were glued together and he was just pushing against you, his hips driving yours into the couch cushions. “All fucked up for my cock, are you? Fucking beautiful.” 

“It’s so good, Maty, baby, so big, fills me up so good.”

“I love you. I love you, (Y/N).”

“Oh my God, Maty, I love you.” 

His mouth locked onto yours, sealing your lips together and swallowing your moans down. Dark locks of his hair shielded your face and tickled your cheeks, and as soon as he inched away to take a deep, shaky breath, your eyes opened up. He steadied himself on strong arms, framing your face, his veins prominent, and you curled a small hand as far around his thick bicep as you could, watching in awe as his head jerked back, throwing his long hair off his forehead and squeezing his eyes shut as he concentrated on pounding against your dripping cunt. 

Slowly, his body peeled back off of yours, away, away, and he brought himself up to his knees in front of you. You let your eyes roll slip the long length of his torso, decorated with glittering reflections of gold and red and green, shining off the sheen of his sweat, and you looked from his thick neck, covered in your love-bites, down his chest, down the hard muscles of his abdomen and tummy, and down the V of his hips to the small patch of prickles that rubbed against your clit with every thrust. His thighs were spread open with your legs wrapped ever so gently around his hips, and his cock was stilled, aching inside of you. He shifted around on the couch momentarily, readjusting his knees on the cushions. “Ya know, we’d be a lot more comfortable in our bed than out here.” 

“But it’s so pretty out here. All the pretty twinkly lights on you…” 

“On me?” He laughed, “Look at yourself, babe. I’m fucking lucky.” 

His big hands traced down your cheeks, squeezed down your chest, curled down the curve of your waist and hips, before finally wrapping around the backs of your thighs and pulling you closer, hoisting your legs up, up, and over his shoulders and spreading you wide open in front of him. 

“Ooh, Mat…” You giggled a bit as he easily positioned you in the way he wanted, smirking down at you wickedly and rubbing his thumbs up and down the wet slick of your pussy. 

“Gonna make you fuckin’ come, babe, my god… you want that?”

“Yeah, yeah, please, Maty.” 

“Just a little bit longer, ‘kay?” He rolled his hips against yours again, starting up that steady pace again. His hands held your thighs open, lifting your legs up the length of his torso and locking them over his shoulders, and he never failed to make you seem tiny compared to him. You watched, mesmerized, as his abdomen tensed and hardened and spasmed as he tried to keep himself under control. 

“Please.”

“Little… longer.” 

With one more low moan, your boyfriend bent closer to you, his chain dangling in your face tauntingly as he got back to pounding away at you, heavy balls slapping against your ass with every erratic movement, his thrusts getting sloppier and sloppier and his breaths getting deeper. He was so goddamn close to that edge. He could tell you were getting there, too. You’d been on the edge ever since he started pounding you, but now, you were only a few feather light touches away from falling over that edge. And Mat was ready for it, he could barely hold his own seems together, he could barely think about anything except how rock hard he was and how your tits were bouncing so perfectly in rhythm with his hips, the way your eyes were rolling back and the way his cock felt inside you, fully covered in your slick, both your lower halves sticky messes. He was ready to fall apart completely, and ready to help you reach your own. “You look so fucking good taking my dick like this, babygirl. It’s so big, isn’t it? But you just take it so good, yeah? My good, good girl with her perfect fucking pussy, taking that cock so well.” He reached his fingers down to roll his thumb lazily against your clit, ever so gently, but enough to make you fall apart. Your eyes rolled back as you gasped out for him. 

“Please, M- Maaaat…” 

“Oh, you- you want it, don’t you?” Mat’s words were getting shaky, his sentences choppy. He was so close, so close his mind couldn’t comprehend anything beyond just fucking letting go. “Want your boyfriend’s hot cum filling you up, just flooding that- ugh, that tight little cunt, yeah? My balls emptied inside you? You want that nut so bad, you’re so desperate for it, huh? Tell me, baby. Tell me how you want the love of your life to just… fucking f- flood your pussy.”

“I want it, Mat, I want you to cum, baby.” 

His thrusts became erratic, his hand leaving bruises on your thigh and his thumb absolutely torturing your swollen, sensitive clit. He was getting desperate, too. “Where? Where do you want my big fucking load?”

“Cum inside, fuck, fuck, please, Maty-”

“Ohh, gonna fucking nut inside you, babygirl-”  

“I’m gonna cuuuum, Mat…” 

“Ohhhh, fuuuuuck, oh, oh (Y/N)...!” Mat let out a long, strangled moan, his voice shaking and whiny and breathless in exasperation. His hips stuttered and his thighs trembled beneath him as he nearly collapsed onto you, absolutely flooding your aching, spasming hole with his cum. Your mind went fuzzy and white when you finally felt his stitches come loose, and he finally emptied all of himself- all his hot, gooey warmth- inside of your throbbing cunt. And flood, he did. It felt like the thick ropes of cum were never ending, filling you to the brim, until finally, he was done, his eyes squeezed shut and hair falling into his eyes above you.

Forming sentences would be a miracle at this point, but you reached up to curl a finger around Mat’s chain and yank him down to your face, ushering him to collapse against your body. And he did, eyes glancing open for a moment and lips locking with yours, always thankful to be able to fall onto you after a hard day, after absolutely spending himself. He groaned against your lips and buried his face against your neck, panting against your skin and kissing your neck and breathing in your scent as your hand found it’s rightful place at the back of his neck.  After a few moments of stillness, he reached down lazily and let his cock slip out of you, both of you whining and the loss of contact, and you felt a familiar wetness on your tummy as his cum dribbled down the head of his spent cock to fall on your warm skin. 

You were silent, panting for a few minutes, just letting your heartbeats steady back to normal and your heads to recover from the dizzying orgasms. Then, a breathless chuckle vibrated through Mat’s chest and into you. “Merry fucking Christmas to us, right?” 

“I think that was the hottest thing we’ve ever done, Mat.” Mat hummed in agreement, squeezing you between his arms. “Now you see why we couldn’t do this at your parent’s place?”

“I mean… what’s stopping us?” 

“Mat, I know for a fact you can’t keep quiet enough to fuck in your parent’s house.”

“Says the one who was just screaming my name.”

“As if you weren’t moaning mine just as loud.”

“Hmm.” Mat laughed again at the banter, the playful back and forth, and rolled to the side, his back to the back of the couch, and pulled you against his side. “How do you feel, anyway? About… me coming inside? Still feel good about it? Wasn’t too much?”

“No way. I really… really enjoyed that. Everything about that. A lot.” 

“Mm, that’s good. So did I.” 

“But… I kiiiiiinda feel like we should clean up. It’s starting to feel… sticky, like, everywhere. And not a good sticky.” 

“Yeah, how about we take a bath together? A nice warm bath in the lights of the pretty Christmas lights you love so much? How’s that sound?”

“Sounds like heaven, Mat.”

So Mat scooped you up in his arms, his own legs weak and shaky after an unbelievable orgasm, and he pressed kisses against your cheeks as he carried you through your brand new home, lit in the pretty pinks and gold of the Christmas lights, stopping before the bathroom door only momentarily to ponder on the beginning of the rest of his forever with you. This truly might be the beginning of the best years of his life. The beginning of an even more serious relationship with you. He felt your fingers playing with the chain that still hung around his neck, the one the guys teased him about the charm on the end, but the one he always wore for you, and he glanced down, his eyes warm and contemplative as he searched yours. This. This was eternal love.

“I love you, babe. Always.” His heart felt dipped in syrup when you smiled up at him with that soul melting look. Yep. You’re it for me.

“I love you, bubs. Always.”

[elizabeethan]

Watch the Sunlight Fade: 7 / 17

Emma Swan finds out that her boyfriend has been hiding something from her: he’s in a gang and trying to get out. Reluctantly, she decides to support him, sticking it out with him until they have enough money to flee to Florida. All she has to do is wait and ignore that feeling in her gut that something is seriously wrong. With the help of a kind and handsome stranger, she just might make it out alive.

Or, alternate summary: I’m horrible at summaries, please just read it.

Something of a cross between a What Still Remains AU and a Sons of Anarchy AU.

A/N: We’re getting there! In this chapter we have hints, friends. Let me know what you think!!

Rated M

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~~~~

Killian’s intention was not to sleep with Emma Swan. His intention was to lift her from the couch, gently and easily as he’s done before, and carry her to bed, leaving her to sleep peacefully. He intended to leave her in his room, tucked in and comfortable, and then sleep in his guestroom, listening for signs of nightmares. 

 He did not intend to sleep beside Emma Swan. When she clung to the collar of his shirt, sleeping as he carried her to bed, he intended to uncurl her fingers, perhaps place a gentle kiss to her forehead, and leave her in the privacy of his bedroom. He did not intend to let her look of sleepy desperation-- of a quiet, hopeless need to be held-- sway him when she pulled him close to her, refusing to let him leave. He did not intend to give in to her so easily, curling up behind her and letting her nestle herself against his front. He didn’t intend for her to fall asleep so effortlessly, and to sleep so soundly through the night as he held her close to him. 

 He didn’t intend for any of this to happen, but when he wakes with the sun and feels her warmth pressed against him, he can’t say he minds. 

 The battle that has plagued him internally since the moment he laid eyes on her rages on with her soft, contented sigh, and he wonders what she must be thinking. He wonders what the few moments of gentle peace before she wakes must be like for her. How it must feel to be tricked so easily into feelings of safety in the arms of another, only to wake and be faced with the painful reality that, to the man who is supposed to love her, she is nothing more than a means to an end. It kills him to not know what the end could be. 

 She stirs, and he knows that the bliss he felt when he first woke is set to fade as reality sets in for her. When she nuzzles her cheek against his bicep, the one attached to his tingling hand, he knows she must still be trapped in a dream, thinking herself cuddling closer to her doting boyfriend. He would give anything for that to be true for her. 

With another gentle sigh, she wiggles a bit, her rear unfortunately enticing to his body despite his mind’s commands. “Good morning,” she says softly, her tone relaxed and, he thinks, almost playful. 

 He can’t help but to laugh just a bit, the sound forced out of his nostrils and blowing a lock of her hair off of her neck. “Good morning to you, too.”

 She hums, making no moves to get up despite the morning sun rising higher in the sky. Their time together is running out; Neal is due to be home today, and if she isn’t home when he arrives, he’s certain there will be hell to pay. 

 “Feels weird,” she remarks suddenly, her voice still quiet but more serious. 

 “What’s that, love?”

 “Being…” she shrugs. “Feeling comfortable, I guess. Safe. Even before all of this, I had to force myself to relax with Neal.”

 “And now?” he asks, his hand inadvertently sliding up the curve of her hip over her soft t-shirt. 

 She’s quiet for a moment before speaking up again. “It’s easy,” she sighs. “I know my life is going to shit, but I’ve never… I’ve never felt this relaxed.”

 He should’ve stopped himself from pressing a soft but firm kiss to the back of her neck, but he couldn’t if he tried. “I’m sure that’s not true,” he tries, but she shakes her head immediately. “No? Not even a happy childhood memory?”

 She stays quiet for far too long, hinting to him that he’s said the wrong thing. He barely knows her; he certainly doesn’t know enough to make assumptions about her childhood. She confirms this when she finally murmurs, “I’m not sure you know who you’re talking to.” Her tone is light, as if she’s trying to make a joke of it, but he can hear the pain laced through her words.

 “Perhaps I don’t,” he challenges boldly, voice strong and almost too powerful in the soft morning silence. “But I’d love to hear more about your beginnings.”

 Her stillness makes the blood sing through his veins, hot and painful in response to his anxiety, until she rolls over onto her other side, sliding away from him just enough so that she can look into his eyes. “You really mean that,” she says. It isn’t a question, more like a clarification. A statement used to prove the thought to herself in her own mind. He nods, wanting to drop his hand onto her cheek but holding back. 

 “Of course.”

 She closes her eyes, shying away from him, hiding the shining beams of light from his gaze for a moment before she opens them again and gives him a small smile. “I’m an orphan,” she whispers. Her wording takes him by surprise. She’s an adult, he overheard Neal telling Peter that she’s 25, but she still considers herself an orphan even now. “My parents… I don’t know. They abandoned me. I don’t know who they are. I spent years trying to find them and I never did.”

 “So you…” He sighs, biting his lip without meaning to mirror her. His hand is twitching at his side to touch her, to reach out and comfort her. “You spent some time in foster care, then?”

 “Care,” she scoffs. “I guess you can say that. I ran away a lot.”

 “Aye,” he nods. “If not for Liam, I’m sure I would’ve as well.”

 She looks at him so pleadingly, so deeply, her brows drawn tight together and her forest green eyes glowing in the light of the rising sun. “You were in foster care, too?”

 “I was,” he whispers. This time, he can’t stop himself from letting his fingers slide along the soft skin of her temple, brushing her hair away. He feels her relaxing into his touch, leaning into his hand and letting her eyes slip shut. “For a brief time, before Liam found our father. He was here with Gold; died shortly after we found him, but Liam had turned 18 so we stuck around with the club.” 

 Her eyes snap open, something he’d said alerting her senses. “You’ve been with them for a while then?”

 “About fifteen years now,” he confirms. 

 “So do you… I mean, they cared for you. You must have some kind of loyalty to them.”

 “No,” he answers immediately. “Fifteen years is a long time. Long enough for me to see the violent corruption that Peter and Neal seem to thrive on. They learned it from Gold, they tried to teach it to me, but Liam taught me the importance of good form.”

 Her movements are quick, and he can barely keep up as she scoots close to him and drops her head so that it’s resting against his chest, just below his chin. He doesn’t think before wrapping both arms around her, securing his hold on her and burying his head in her hair. It smells fruity and floral, and he doesn’t think he’ll get enough. 

 “I always thought I was good at reading people, with the exception of Neal,” she says, laughing softly. “And with you… I mean… I trust you, Killian.” 

 The relief that washes over him is nearly unbelievable, his desire to be here for her, to help her, too consuming. The confirmation that she trusts him steadies his heartbeat, calms his mind, soothes his soul. 

 “Emma,” he breathes, and at the sound of his voice, she pulls back and meets his eyes with her. “I promise I’ll get you out of this. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

 “I know,” she whispers. Her words wash warm air over his mouth and remind him just how close they are. He considers closing the gap between them when he sees her eyes fluttering, desperate to make her feel the same intensity that he feels. He craves the softness of her skin against his. He wants her. He thinks he may need her. Her eyes close and he watches her lips fall open just the slightest amount, her breathing evening out at the anticipation of his lips meeting hers. 

 But reality creeps back into the forefront of his mind, the danger that she’s in sure to increase if they should ever be found out. The half-confirmation that perhaps she wants him in the same way that he wants her is almost enough to hold him over. He’ll never put his own desires ahead of her safety, and he needs her to know that. 

 So he places his palm on her cheek and runs his thumb along the soft skin under her eye, thinking back to last night when her cheeks were tear and sweat stained after hours of emotional torment. “He’ll be back soon,” he finally whispers, and the way her face falls pains him. “I’m sorry,” he says, unsure why. 

 She opens her eyes and meets his gaze, seeming to understand as she takes a breath and nods. “Don’t be,” she smiles. “Thank you.”

 “For what?” he asks, unable to fathom what she could possibly be thanking him for. All he did was tell her of his past and nearly kiss her despite her being in a relationship. 

 “Everything,” she answers easily. “I’d be broken if you hadn’t come out and gotten me last night.”

 “I’ll always be here for you,” he vows, his palm cupping her cheek without having the excuse of moving her hair out of the way. 

 “I’m scared,” she whispers. Her voice is weak and small, barely audible over the sounds coming in from the open window. “When he gets home, he’s gonna want… I don’t want to…”

 “Emma,” he breathes, shaking his head. He’s horrified that they even need to have this conversation, but at the same time, he isn’t surprised. Growing up beside Cassidy, only a few years older than him, he knows how he was raised. The man has expectations of her, and that was made clear to Killian the other day when he dropped everything and barely had her hesitant consent before dragging her back to his bed. It’s wrong for him to have to offer her a way out of sleeping with him. She should be able to say no, she’s not in the mood, and that should be enough. But he knows that isn’t the case; he knows what will happen if she refuses. “Perhaps if you say you’re sick,” he finally offers.

 “Yeah,” she agrees, then smiles genuinely at him and says, “I mean, I did throw up last night. I guess I’m not totally lying.”

 “Aye,” he grins, although it feels wrong to do so. “You’ll be alright. I’m not sure why, but for better or for worse, Neal needs you for something. He won’t harm you.”

 She sighs and drops her head back onto his chest, the weight of it comforting with each rise and fall of his lungs. “I wish I knew why,” she says softly into his shirt. “I mean, I'm nothing special. Why would he want me, of all people, to be here?” 

 A twinge of anger sparks within him again at her words, at her genuine belief that she’s nothing special. It reaffirms for him that she’s grown up all her life alone, believing that no one could possibly want her. That she couldn’t possibly mean anything to anyone. That the only person she thinks she means something to is an abusive, manipulative monster. It can’t be true, he wants to tell her. It isn’t true. He wants to assure her that, despite hardly knowing her, she means the world to him. But the last thing he wants to do is to scare her off, the prospect of helping her out of this with her comfort and autonomy in tact too important to pass up. He can’t put his own feelings above her. 

 “I wish you didn’t think like that,” he finally says, letting his hand find the back of her hair again. “You are special. You just don’t deserve whatever it is he has planned for you. You deserve to be happy and safe.” 

 When she shakes her head again, he vows silently, daring not to scare her with his sincerity, that he’ll spend every day for the rest of his life proving to her that she means something. 

 ~~~~

 Emma finds herself being very meticulous about her position in the apartment in preparation for Neal’s return. Killian’s suggestion that she fake an ailment was a good one, but now she has to make it believable enough to turn him off. 

 She has whiplash from the last few weeks, but from the last day especially. She can hardly believe that she’s in this position in the first place, the fact that she’s found herself suddenly thrown into the role of a gang member’s girlfriend utterly fantastical. A part of her still thinks this is a dream, and if she pinches herself hard enough, she’ll wake up in the arms of her loving boyfriend once again. 

 Truthfully, she can’t believe that she never noticed. The fact that he was able to trick her so believably, that he got around her firm defenses and her lie detector well enough to sneak into her life, is almost too painful to consider. How could he manipulate her so easily? Is she really that weak? It’s easier to rely on the belief that this is a horrible nightmare and that she’ll soon wake up and her life will go back to normal. It’s not like her life was anything special before, but at least she was living in blissful ignorance to the horrors she now faces. 

 Neal is not the man she thought he was, that much is definitive by now. Finding out that he’s the brother of the leader of The Lost Boys was a blow so detrimental to her that she almost broke. If Killian wasn’t there to pick up the pieces and glue her back together, she’s certain that she would still be a crumbling mess on the hallway floor. 

 The helpfulness of his presence is something that she will never be able to put into words. The fact that he was there for her when she needed him, when she needed to be held together and soothed and cared for, the fact that he knew just what she needed in that moment, is something she can never hope to repay. 

 She feels silly thinking like this, when just the other day she was promising herself that she would try harder with Neal. It’s as if the second she found out about his nefarious intentions, she forgot about him. The way she feels when she’s with Killian makes her fear the way she felt when she was with Neal. Everytime she and Neal were together, she had to force herself to relax, to calm down enough to enjoy his presence. She told herself that it was normal for her to feel that way, that the way she was raised predisposed her to feelings of discomfort in the presence of others. But when she curled up in Killian’s arms last night, it was the most natural thing in the world. It was like there was nowhere else she was meant to be. Like being with him is exactly where she needed to be in that moment. Now, thinking back to the way it felt to be held by him, she wants nothing more than to be back in his arms. 

 The anxious nausea returns when she hears his keys jamming into the lock, turning it slowly as the sickening anticipation increases. She takes a deep breath, settling herself into the couch and easily putting on her best sick face as he pushes the door open. She’s met with a wide, leering smile that makes her stomach churn more. 

 “Hey, baby,” he calls as he shuts the door, dropping his bag to the floor in a way that makes her wonder if he expects her to unpack it. It’s as if her sudden realization of his true intentions was a bucket of cold water being thrown over her head, and now she can see him for who he truly is. Each of his actions are selfish, his expectations of her entirely misogynistic and manipulative. 

 “Hi,” she says with a purposely weakened smile, her voice small. “Good trip?” 

 “Pretty good,” he confirms, walking towards the kitchen and retrieving a beer despite it being before noon. “We’ll probably have to go out again soon, but I'll stick around for a while.” 

 “That’s good,” she agrees, pulling the blanket up around her shoulders and nestling into the couch cushions. Despite her stress, she found that she slept better than ever last night, so it’s more work than she expected to pull off a look of exhaustion. “What do you do when you go?” she asks, hoping to get a bit of information out of him. 

 “Oh, this and that. Nothing you need to worry about.” She fights off the temptation to roll her eyes as he sits on the couch, narrowly missing her feet and seeming not to notice. “What are you doing?” 

 She shrugs. “I don't feel that good,” she explains. “I’ve been nauseous since last night.” 

 “You have?” he asks, his interest seeming to be piqued.

 “Yeah,” she nods weakly, shutting her eyes. “I even threw up last night.” 

 “Gross,” he says immediately, and her mind runs back to the image of Killian holding her hair for her. He cocks his head to the side in thought and says, “Huh.” 

 “What?” 

 “Nothing,” he shakes his head, taking another draw from his can. “Just interesting, that’s all.” 

 She laughs, the sound likely not entirely believable. “Interesting or gross?”  

 Neal turns to her, his eyes suddenly dark and hooded, his grip on his can obviously tightening. He shifts in his seat, turning his body so that his shirt rides up slightly, exposing the handle of his gun to her line of sight. “Does it matter?” 

 “No,” she replies quietly, her eyes meeting his in undeniable terror. She doesn’t have to work at making her voice sound small and timid; it happens naturally. “Sorry,” she says without thinking. 

 She notices that, in the time that he was gone, she felt a sense of strength. Having Killian reiterate to her that what she’s experiencing isn’t normal, isn’t acceptable, has put her in the mindset that she’s strong enough to get out of this. But with a single motion, a few short words, she's back under Neal’s thumb with no chance of escape. 

 “Great,” he smiles, his demeanor shifting back as he leans back into the couch. “We’re going out tonight. The Rabbit Hole.”

 She wants to argue, to remind him that she just told him she isn’t feeling well, but she fears his response and simply nods. “Okay,” she says softly, feeling like less than nothing to him. It isn’t the fact that she doesn’t feel well, because that’s not entirely true. Her nausea is a result of her stress. What bothers her is his willingness to ignore her claims. His ability to forget so easily. 

 She means nothing to him. 

 ~~~~

 The Rabbit Hole is busier than usual, and it occurs to Killian that Peter didn’t bother to enforce it’s closure this evening. The realization makes him wonder about the last time, the night that Emma was brought here and victimized for the first time. It makes him wonder about the disconnect in Peter’s mind that made him want to celebrate such an event. 

 Tonight, he sees several familiar faces. There’s Scarlett, who was drunk and tried to steal Rufio’s bike one night, earning himself an entirely unwanted role in the club working off his crime. There’s also Tink, Olivia, who got herself into a lifestyle in which she’s never been truly comfortable out of sheer desperation and poverty. There’s William Smee, who boasts an ability to allocate anything the club desires, if only to keep him safe from their rivals. 

 The bar is filled with people who are here because they have to be, having little choice in the matter. Each of them agreed to be here, agreed to Peter’s terms, but none of them have any way out. 

 There’s a pair of arms wrapping around his shoulders from behind, pulling him into a hug, and he knows exactly who it is without having to turn. A smile creeps across his mouth when she squeezes more firmly and then spins his chair, turning him to face her and giving him a bright smile. 

 “Evening, love,” he mumbles softly, giving her a gentle smile. 

 “Evening, KJ,” she returns. Elsa moves beside him and takes the stool to his left, holding up a hand to signal to the bartender that she’s ready to order. “Having a good night?”

 “Sure,” he shrugs, turning back to his drink. 

 With a snort, she shakes her head and shoves her shoulder against his. “What’s wrong?”

 “What makes you think something’s wrong?” 

 “You’re brooding. More ferociously than usual.”

 “I don’t brood,” he grumbles into his rum, taking a drag from it. 

 “Yeah,” she scoffs, “and I’m a natural blonde. Is this about your girlfriend?”

 He turns suddenly, staring her down and raising a brow. “I don’t have a bloody girlfriend.” 

 “Mhmm,” she hums sweetly. “A winter sangria, please,” she orders, and Killian rolls his eyes. 

 “It’s still summer, El.”

 “I know what I like. Now, talk to me. Emma’s been staring at you all night.”

 “No she hasn’t,” he argues into his glass. At least, he hopes she hasn’t. It wouldn’t be safe for her to be staring… 

 “Killian, please.”

 “She’s--” he starts in a moment of boldness, wanting to retreat almost immediately as he realizes where he is. He leans a bit closer to Elsa and practically whispers, “I think she’s in danger.”

 “Killian, they’re keeping her safe! As Neal’s girlfriend--”

 “She’s in danger from Neal. She had no idea… Elsa, she found out last night that he’s Peter's brother. She thought he was some lackey until Gold told her otherwise.”

 “Why would that mean she’s in danger?” she asks, accepting her drink before shifting back to her serious demeanor. 

 “Why would he lie? What could he want from her that he doesn’t think he could get if he were truthful?”

 “KJ…”

 “He told her they would leave. He said he would move them to Florida to live happily ever after. You know that’s not what that bastard has planned.”

 “Watch your tongue. Are you sure you’re not just looking for another reason to hate him like you do everyone?”

 “Who said I hate him?” 

 She lets out a groan, dramatically throwing her head back before taking a sip of her drink and then glaring at him. “I’m not sure what’s going on in that pretty head of yours, but you’ve got to cut it out. For better or worse, Emma is Neal’s, and you know that he’ll make sure you know that. Him and his brother. They’re in charge; they keep us safe, and all we owe in return is our loyalty.” 

 She’s right, of course, although perhaps not in the way she means. They are mad enough to go to extremes for arguably unwarranted reasons. If Liam diplomatically disagreeing with them was cause enough for his death in their eyes, he doesn’t want to imagine what would happen if they found out about him and Emma. 

 Not that there’s anything going on between them, of course. Despite his feelings for her, he isn’t daft enough to think that they’re being reciprocated. She simply needed comfort and he was available and willing to give it. She needs someone to care for her, someone who understands her and what she’s going through, and when all of this is over and she’s away from this abuse, she can move on like none of this ever happened. It’ll be like they never met, and if that’s what’s best for her, then so be it. 

 Still, the fact that she slept in his bed, in his arms, just last night is dangerous. If that information were to reach the wrong set of ears, he knows it’ll mean bad news for Emma. 

 “Alright,” he finally grumbles. Although he trusts Elsa, knows that she wouldn’t do anything that would mean trouble for him, he suddenly gets the feeling that she doesn’t understand what he’s going through afterall. Her phrasing is startling, and he’s starting to realize that it’s not the first time she’s spoken like this. She doesn’t know the extent of what happened to Liam, but she’s aligned to the club very faithfully. He was certain that their shared experience, their shared loss, would mean her unconditional empathy, but he can see now that that isn’t necessarily the case. 

 He fears that he-- and as a result, Emma-- may be more alone than he originally thought.

~~~~

~~~~

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[citrine-eyed-witcher]

Give You Peace

Word Count: 1.7k

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Reader

Summary: When he can’t sleep, Geralt turns to Reader (who is a healer) for relief. 

Warnings: None

A/N: So here’s my first work for The Witcher. I’ve only seen the show on Netflix, but I’m reading The Last Wish right now and I’m gonna try the game when I go home for the holidays. I do apologize if there are any errors or if Geralt seems out of character and would also greatly appreciate constructive criticism! 

Geralt has fought countless monsters in his many lifetimes, but the one that always seems to come back and haunt him is the insomnia. He’ll go for stretches of days or even a week or two at a time with minimal sleep. Sometimes he won’t be able to fall asleep at all, and that alone is worse than any wound or curse he’s endured. Such prolonged restlessness leaves him irritated and desperate, seeking any source of relief that the world has to offer, even if it means toying with darker forces. Any effort is worth the slightest bit of peace.

But there is one mercy that the universe has afforded to him, and that mercy is you. On the edge of a lake, there sits a stone cottage, covered in endless tangled vines of emerald ivy. A vast garden of herbs and spices thrives on the side of the house closest to the water, and just the scent of lavender in the air is enough for Geralt to begin to relax as he urges Roach down the narrow dirt path. Once he’s close enough, he dismounts the mare and ties her to the post just a few yards from the house, leaving her to rest and graze as she pleases for the night.

Geralt is silent as he enters the house, not wanting to frighten you in case you’re already asleep for the night. Through the window he can see the silver glow of the moon on the surface of the lake, and if he weren’t so tired, he’d stand to appreciate it longer. It’s not often that he has the chance to admire such beautiful scenery. He’s used to swamps and ruins and barren lands.

He takes a few steps in the direction of your bedroom, pushing the door open as soon as he can reach it. The witcher’s brows furrow in confusion, however, when in the soft light of the fire he finds that your bed is empty. He steps further into the room, his eyes searching for you, but he’s stopped in his tracks as the edge of a blade kisses his throat. Exhaustion delays his reaction time more than he’d like to admit, but as soon as his hand wraps around the wrist of his attacker, he lets out a breath. He knows it’s you before he sees you.

“I’ll have to admit, this isn’t my favorite way to be welcomed home,” he murmurs, voice low as he releases you. Geralt then turns, his golden eyes meeting your soft gaze. The dagger falls to the floor then, and he wastes no time in taking you into his arms.

“Geralt, you can’t scare me like that. I could have hurt you,” you reply, and he closes his eyes as you cradle his face in your hands.

His lips turn upward and he hums in amusement. “I’m confident that you wouldn’t let me die at your own hand,” he says. Geralt is quiet for a few long moments then, taking in a deep breath of your scent. There’s something so intoxicating about the combination of honeysuckle and lavender. Maybe because it’s so distinctly you that nothing else could ever hold in comparison.

“I thought you’d be asleep,” he whispers, his words slurring minutely in his exhaustion, and though he’s not aware of it, he leans more and more into your touch, letting you take more of his weight.

You frown slightly, brushing a few strands of hair from Geralt’s face and sighing softly at the dark circles under his eyes. “No, but you should be. When is the last time you slept, my love?,” you ask, expression twisting in concern as you speak. You’re well aware of the restlessness that Geralt faces all-too-often, but it still breaks your heart every time he comes to you in this state.

“It’s been days. Every time I close my eyes just...nothing,” he admits, shifting to rest his forehead against yours, and all the while his eyes remain closed. By now the exhaustion has settled deep into his bones, and he wants nothing more than to be able to finally get some rest.

You sigh softly, gently running your fingers through Geralt’s long, white hair. “How about a hot bath first and then we can sleep?,” you ask, knowing that some of the oils you usually put in the water might help him fall asleep.

Geralt hesitates for a moment. He hadn’t come to you to be an inconvenience, though he knows that you would never see a bath before bed as an inconvenience, especially if you thought it would help him. Finally though, he relents with a soft sigh. “Alright,” he murmurs.

You smile softly then, slowly separating from him so that you can go to heat up the water. While he waits, Geralt takes a seat on the edge of the bed, listening as you go around the house gathering the other things you need.

Before he knows it, Geralt is being pulled up from the bed and led back to the small bathing chamber in the next room. Soon, he’s undressed and sinking into the steaming water, and he leans back against the edge of the wooden tub, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath of lavender and chamomile. “You’re too good to me,” he tells you quietly.

“You say that as if you don’t deserve to be treated well, Geralt,” you reply softly, shaking your head. You then step into the tub with him, taking a clean cloth with you. He opens his eyes as you join him, grinning at the questioning look on your face.

“Let’s just call it a luxury seldom enjoyed,” he murmurs, reaching out for you and pulling you against his chest in the water, “but one that I could get used to.” He presses his lips to yours in a slow, longing kiss, caressing your face in a careful, gentle movement.  

“I can’t say I’d be opposed to having you around more often,” you whisper against his lips, threading a hand into his hair.

Geralt hums softly in response. “Witchers don’t take vacations,” he quips, resting his hands on your hips.

“Well then, I guess the next time you come in need of a healer, I’ll just have to take my time. Keep you here for a while longer just so we’re sure you’re alright,” you tease right back.

“You won’t hear any complaints from me,” he tells you.

“Good,” you say, capturing his lips in another kiss. “Not that you had a choice in the matter.”

—

Once you’re both clean, you climb out of the tub, drying off quickly before dressing in clean sets of nightclothes: you in your nightgown and Geralt in a pair of soft trousers. And while you go to find one last sleep remedy, Geralt stokes the fire in the bedroom, building it up enough that it will last the rest of the night without dying out.

You step back into the bedroom with a small vial in your hand, which you offer to Geralt as he stands to meet you. “What is this?,” he asks, taking the vial and holding it up to examine the dark liquid inside.

“Valerian. It’s what I use to put people to sleep when they’re in pain. It’ll do you some good,” you explain.

He raises an eyebrow, but pulls the small cork anyway. “Are you sure this isn’t part of your plan to keep me here forever?”

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “You’ll never suspect when I decide to do that. Trust me,” you reply, going right along with his teasing. You watch then as he takes the valerian in just a couple small sips, taking the vial from him when it’s empty. “Go lie down. I’ll be there in just a second,” you urge him, turning and leaving the room once more.

Geralt nods, more than willing to finally lie down after waiting so long for some decent sleep. He pulls back the covers, settling himself onto the mattress and sighing at the immediate comfort that it brings him. With the heat of the fire at his back, he’s finally able to truly rest for the first time in a long time. Already he can feel the valerian beginning to pull him under.

By the time you return to the bedroom, you can tell that Geralt is hardly coherent anymore. You let out a soft, contented sigh, climbing into bed next to him and pulling the quilt just over his hips. He hardly stirs at the movement, and you know then that you’ve been successful in giving him relief from the insomnia. You settle down next to him, gently caressing his face, though you’re surprised as his hand comes up to wrap lightly around your wrist.

Geralt opens his eyes just enough to see you lying there in front of him, and he hums lowly in content, pressing a kiss to the underside of your wrist. “Thank you,” he murmurs, fighting against the exhaustion that pulls him so strongly. It takes all of his will just to keep his eyes open.

“Shhhh. It was nothing,” you whisper, running your thumb along his cheekbone. Your expression softens at his gaze, at the unparalleled love and admiration held in his amber eyes.

“No…,” he trails off, his eyes slipping closed. “It was...more than that. You’re…,” he stops again, and you smile, thinking that he won’t even be able to finish his thought before he falls asleep. Your heart swells at the sight, happy to see that he can finally rest the way he needs to.

“...You’re my only peace…,” Geralt breathes out. And with that, what light grip he hand on your arm fades to nothing. And already you can see that he’s fallen into blissful slumber.

You let out a soft breath, eyes burning just slightly with the threat of tears at his admission. You place one last kiss on his temple before resting your head on the pillow next to his. “I love you, Geralt,” you whisper to him, closing your eyes and drifting off beside him just moments later.

[awkward-snake-girl]

Centaurworld Season One Song Lyric Starters

( Slightly modified for role playing. Feel free to change to fit your muse)

“You’re okay, you’re all right.”

“I’ll never ever leave your side.”

“I will stay, and I will fight with you.”

“I’ll stay here through the darkest night.”

“Hey, new friend, I’m glad you made it!”

“As long as you are with us, you are home.”

“It really sounds like where you’re from is overrated.”

“We have no sense of boundaries!”

“It’s the place where all your new friends are, girl!”

“I mean, technically, sure we were at war with a ruthless horde of invaiding warriors.”

“ I promise you will never find anywhere friendlier.”

“Why are you sitting around here doing the same old, same old?”

“ it takes a little boldness and a little bit of magic.

“I’d go on my own if only I had it.”

“Follow the colors.”

“Together, we’ll go into the unknown.”

“Say goodbye to the old.”

“One careful step at a time.”

“Please watch yourselves as you go.”

“We are all just fragile things, soft and small.

“The outside can harm you, reject you, but just stay close and I will protect you.”

“Oh, I never feared the drums of war!”

“I crushed the skulls and I want more!”

“While you’re hiding in the fringes, I’ll go out and I’ll get my vengeance!”

“You can fight for yourselves, you’re all right by yourselves.”

“Cause you know, only you can protect you.”

“Don’t think, just trust.”

“What if I forget your face?”

“Do we still remember what is gone?”

“You and I are fragile things.”

“When you break something of someone’s,It’s an opportunity to make a new friend.”

“What are you looking at? Nothing is happening here!”

“These are frustration tears.”

“I’m not sad, I am fine!”

“I am a strong, strong girl!”

“I’m a soldier. And you know a worthy soldier, never cries…”

“Those war tactics you know? They got no utility. Not in this world.”

“Open your heart and your mind, and that is the key.”

“Our eyes have gazed upon desire, hope, and greed.”

“We give not what you want, but what you need.”

“You might believe you know your truth. But truth can often be lies.”

“Hide, all you little ones.”

“Rush now, into the middle of nowhere, singing and laughter will die.”

“When his kingdom comes, darkness is nigh.”

“Quiet, crawl to the in-between.”

“Silent, secretive feeling of fearsome hatred that reaches the skies.”

“Deep down in the depths, a shadow lumbers.”

“It’s hidin’ time.”

“ I’d like to show you my collection.”

“But what I’m missing here is you.”

“I even stole this guitar!”

“I steals so I can feels.”

“Life is a miracle, but life’s a little strange.”

“We don’t really care for interlopers.”

“Cause when you fall from grace, It’s a long way down.”

“I didn’t wanna share this. Oh my gosh, I’m so embarrassed!”

“Well, hello there, So Embarrassed! My name’s (name).”

“Say, I’ve got a joke about paper that’s tear-ible!”

“Where do you keep the skeletons locked up? In a rib cage!”

“Who wins the thing that we do every day?”

“We strike poses on the runway.”

“I’ve been practicing the piano.”

“And we do this every day.”

“I don’t know him.”

“See, the Competition Is for youthful souls.”

“Folks like you cannot compete, because you’re too old.

“Who is she?”

“This girl is super fancy.”

“She sings, she struts, she dances.”

“(Name), are these heels getting higher?”

“Okay. Which one of you catty jerks tripped me?”

“She is strong, but she hides her fears inside.”

“She is flawed, but she’s learning.”

“You might be waiting quite some time.”

“There’s so many games for you to play!”

“Hello, hello, it’s nice to meet you!”

“Oh, why don’t we talk about the bay?”

“ If you’re feeling blue, I’ve got the place for you.”

“I promise I’ll consume all of your pain.”

“I know sadness when I see it, and I’m here so you don’t feel that way again.”

“I see you’re eyeing my constant crying.”

“It’s not easy doing what I do.”

“You can fade in blissful peace and have one restful, gentle happy final day.”

“I want to help the suffering beings I keep seeing everywhere.”

“She’s the ghost of the girl I used to know.

“My reflection has become an unfamiliar someone.”

“Love still finds us, family finds us, even if we can’t make out their faces.

“And a warrior from a different world can find love so far from home.”

“When I look back upon the story of my life I find I’m not a hero, I’m the best supporting actor...”

“My life, it was no fairy tale.”

“I’m the hero of my story now.”

“This will take just a minute, this will only take second of your time!”

“We haven’t technically said goodbye yet…”

“‘Cause teapots are a thing everybody needs, right?”

“Just thought you ought to know that some of us have not accepted you’re leaving.”

“Let me just enjoy this moment.”

“Despite the changes, I would know you anywhere.”

“All I wanna do is hold you close again.”

“Love is a blaze, it shines through the dark.”

“Sometimes the ones we love the most have the worst things to hide.

“Nothing good is meant to stay.”

[conaionaru]

Sigurd Snake-in-the-eye Oneshot

Such a lovely bride

Even covered in dirt and messy hair, she was breathtaking. Grinning at him from her spot under him, soft chuckles leaving her lips. "You didn't have to trip me."

"Why? I like seeing you like this." He teased back and kissed her cute little nose, snorting when she crunched it up. She threw him off and looked up at the hill that they tumbled down.

She wanted to be chased, and as the nice guy he was, he agreed. It wasn't his fault they fell down the hill, really. He tripped on a root, and if he should fall, so shall she. Sigurd would do anything to spoil Korra rotten. He was a prince, a son of Ragnar Lothbrok. All those riches and fame would finally be for something good.

"You are staring again." She teased with raised eyebrows.

"I made you another song." Sigurd pulled his oud out, but she dragged him over to the sand and the lake. Pulling off her shoes, Korra ran into the water, not caring if her skirts got wet.

Watching her twirl in the cool water was like watching a Nymph or a faerie. Sigurd could watch her for hours if it didn't look so creepy. Ever since he first saw her, he felt a pull towards Korra.

At fifteen, she stumbled into him from behind, dressed in her brother's clothes, carrying a basket of fish. Instead of apologizing as other girls would have, she called him rude and stuck her tongue out. He could still hear his brother's laughing at his starstruck expression and his stupid smile whenever he thought of her. But it was all worth it when he brought her flowers, and she giggled for the first time.

It was like the loveliest melody, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't create one as lovely as hers. So Sigurd vowed to hear it every day from now on. And no matter what Ubbe said about fading love, Sigurd was sure he would marry that girl. No matter how wild and untamed she might be.

"Well? Aren't you going to play for me?" She asked, looking at him over her shoulder with her cute grin that was a mix between teasing and challenging. So he picked up his oud and played the song that he wrote just for her. It took him a fortnight to make it perfect, and the smile that she flashed him was worth it. But the kiss on his lips when she crawled out of the water was even better.

Laying side by side and watching the clouds pass by as they held hands was bliss. The peacefulness was a nice change to the usual chaos of his family. "That one looks like a goat."

"No, it doesn't."

"Yes, it does. It has the same beard like you." Sigurd looked at her strangely while she cackled at her own joke. Rolling over, he hovered over her and tickled her side till she trashed under him and begged for mercy.

"Stoooop. Siguuuurd! Stop it! I command you!"

He chuckled and looked into her blue eyes with a silly smile. "Who are you to command a son of Ragnar Lothbrok, huh?"

She rolled her eyes and brushed his shaggy hair behind his ear. "Korra, the fisherman's daughter. I have been called the most beautiful woman out there. I think it a lie, but he insisted."

"Pesty, isn't he?" He leaned closer till their lips brushed against each other, blue eyes meeting green.

"It's lovable, really." They locked lips in a sweet kiss and laid back down, this time Korra rested on his chest in silence. Sleepily drifting off till the sun went down and they had to return home.

Returning to the Great hall to dine with his family was like a punishment after the moments he spent with Korra. Ivar parading Margrethe around like a won prize was laughable. Especially after the thing, the slave confessed to him.

"It makes me so happy you are with a woman," Aslaug told her youngest and then turned to her other children.  "The rest of you should already be married. Ubbe, you should have children."

"I probably already have." They all chuckled, but Aslaug wasn't amused by them.

"Just because you are the sons of a king does not mean you can be irresponsible. It's important to find a woman and settle down."

He couldn't help but scoff, glaring at his mother. "I thought I had found a woman. But you forbid me from asking for her hand."

"You don't have to love the woman. As a king's son, you can have as many women as you like... But you need one to breed with."

"Why bind some other woman to me when I already have one that could give me children if I just asked her."

Aslaug shook her head and waved him off. "Korra is not wife material."

"Why not?"

"Because she is crazy." Ivar laughed.

Sigurd's gaze snapped over at him. "Shut your mouth, Boneless!"

"She runs around dressed as a man and talks to herself. She is always dirty and has no manners, brother. I am just saying that she is not good for you."

"What do you know of women, Ivar, huh? If it weren't for Ubbe, you would have never seen one naked. Besides the mother, of course. No other woman would ever love you. And she doesn't even love you; she pities you. We all do. Sometimes we wish she just left you to the wolves."

"Sigurd, that is enough! I know your feelings for this girl. But she does not befit a prince. If you really care for her, I will find her a good match that fits her more. A nice boy who will treat her nicely."

"Kora doesn't want to marry anyone! Especially not a stranger that you chose for her! She would throw herself off a cliff before marrying him!"

"That's a shame then. She would've made such a lovely bride."

"What a shame she's fucked in the head," Ivar said, and the next moment, Sigurd threw himself on top of him, and a fight broke out.

He met Korra at the hour of the wolf. Her standing there with her hair messy from sleep, covered with a shawl for extra warmth. He pulled his fur cloak around her shoulders and flattened down her hair. "What happened to your face?"

"I fought with Ivar."

"So, the usual. What was it this time? Did he wreck your hairbrush? Mess with your oud?" She teased and danced closer to him, but it did nothing to lift his mood.

He sighed and took her hands in his, looking at her with soft eyes. "It was about you. Mother is pushing us into marriage, and when I suggested you, he said some things."

Korra smiled at him and nodded, tears gathering in her eyes. "He called me crazy, didn't he?"

Sigurd tried to lie to her, but he just couldn't when she looked so heartbroken. "Don't lie, Sigurd. Everyone says so. And maybe he is right. I mean, I am sure your mother doesn't approve either."

"It doesn't matter what mother or any of them think! We can run away and marry in secret. We could get a little cottage far away from all the eyes and responsibilities, with little goats and a lake nearby."

Korra shook her head and smiled at him sadly. "You know that would never work. Father was right; it wouldn't last."

"It won't if you just give up, Korra! Just say yes, and I will take you away from here! I will make you the happiest bride in all of Norway. Just say, yes!"

"No." With a tearful smile, she dropped his hand and walked away, trying her hardest not to look back and fall into his arms. She wanted to tell him yes so badly. But he was a Ragnarsson and a prince. It wasn't right to keep him all to herself and abandon all the glory that awaited him in the future.

After the proposal, she accepted Aslaug's suitor and let their mothers plan her wedding to a man she never met before. Her heart longed for her sweet Sigurd and his songs and kisses and hugs. He grew angry and fought with his brothers more than before.

No matter how many times he tried to seek her out and talk to her, she avoided him like the plague and concentrated on her upcoming wedding. After both Ragnar and Aslaug died and Ubbe married Margrethe, she though Sigurd would focus on getting revenge on the Saxons.

But he was always so fiercely loyal to her. So when she saw him standing there on her wedding day, it broke her heart once more. It was like a cruel riddle - who was more hurt? Her with her unhappy marriage or him all alone and angry.

Her new husband wasn't ugly or cruel. He was sweet and kind, patient above all else. But he wasn't the one she wanted.

"I swear." He said confidently, smiling down at her encouragingly to repeat the words.

"I swear." She echoed with a shake of her head, letting her new husband kiss her. Her eyes subtly drifted to Sigurd's retreating frame in the distance. Tears trailed down her cheeks, but she told him that they were from happiness.

She was a married woman now, her husband, a respectable merchant. Rich but not too much and gentle. Korra expected to forget about everything and live a happy life with many kids. A year into her marriage and Ubbe returned to Kattegat with his brother Sigurd. When she saw him get off the boat, her heart leaped, and she fought back a smile. Her husband, of course, ignored it, too focused on his work to notice her.

In the night, the hour of the wolf especially, she found Sigurd in their usual spot. He looked at her with sad eyes and tried to leave her alone. But something in her screamed out for her to stop him, so she did. "Why did you two come home alone? What happened to your brothers?"

"We fought."

"So, the usual." She smiled shyly as he laughed and nodded. The awkwardness all gone, as if they never split apart.

"This one was more serious. Nearly got an axe to the chest."

"What?" Korra shrieked out and pulled his tunic back to see the damage. True to his word, a thin scar on his chest was a bit above his heart. She stared at him awestruck, worried for his life. How close she was to losing him. Even though he was no longer hers.

"I am fine. I swear." She teared up and pulled back, cradling her hands close to her heart, still feeling his warmth by her. "How are you?"

"Married life is a bliss. He is very nice and kind. Patient and everything your mother promised he would be. We never hunger or fight... I should be happy and content..."

"But?"

"But... I am so lonely."  She sobbed out and looked back at him to see the same expression on his face. "They were all right, Sigurd. I am no wife material. I am so void and empty while he tries so hard. He wants children, and all I can do is nod along with like some broken little pathetic creature."

He strode over to her and pulled her into his arms, whispering into her ear how much he loved her and how perfect she was. For the first time in a year, she felt happy. Despite the tears and guilt she felt, she finally felt whole and content. Maybe it was wrong of her to do this; she was a worried woman now. Had a reputation to protect and a man to be true to. And yet she kissed him and liked it. She fell for Sigurd when she was just a child, and never would she stop loving him. She fell, and so did he.

[sevenstarsinning]

I’m sorry but like can I get angsty raditz smut please I can’t find a single good fanfic whatsoever and I’m so :(

Breaking a Saiyan bond was painful. There was a reason you had never heard much about it and you finally understood why. That pain went deep, like it completely rewired your entire being and all you could do was mourn the loss of your former self and the mate you would never have again.

Raditz was that mate. You could see the inevitable demise of your relationship for months before it actually happened. You were always so different and it was great in many ways but terrible in other more detrimental ways. You were never the kind of mate he really wanted and by the time it became obvious, it was too late.

Day after day you avoided stepping outside of your house unless it was absolutely necessary. Being around what was left of your fellow Saiyans was uncomfortable because they knew. A broken bond among their ranks didn’t fly under the radar, it was a big deal because two warriors were lost and the race was nearing extinction since the demise of Planet Vegeta.

You didn’t have to see Raditz to know he was completely miserable. Both of you were headstrong enough to weather the storm until you got used to the pain or it faded. Until then, fighting was out of the question and you knew there were more than a few Saiyans that weren’t happy about Raditz taking a step back.

By day five of yet another round of isolation, you were going stir-crazy. There was a constant struggle between staying in isolation to suffer in peace or leaving to rejoin civilization.

You opened the front door and nearly walked right into a wall of Saiyan. Raditz clutched your arms to steady you even though your balance wasn’t off enough to justify it. Just the feeling of his large hands on you took some of the ache away in an instant. His scent wafted by from a gentle breeze outside and eased it even more.

“How are you?” He asked, lacking his usual air of confidence. You stepped away and out of his grasp, close quarters were clouding your judgment.

“How do you think I am?” You moved back towards the kitchen to put a little more space between you.

“Miserable, like me,” he answered, taking you by surprise. He stepped into your house and closed the door. Seeing his long hair again brought memories flooding back of the nights you ran your fingers through it while he rested his head in your lap.

“So what if I am? It doesn’t change anything.” You crossed your arms and tried to push your feelings away. That was the only way you would make it through the conversation without doing something stupid.

“Can we at least talk about this?” He began moving towards you, invading the bubble of personal space you were relying on to keep you in check.

“I think we covered everything last time.”

“When you pointed out everything wrong with our relationship or the yelling after that? You said things I would kill anyone else for even thinking,” he chided.

“I pointed out the truth and you’re the one that started with the insults. Don’t dish them out if you can’t take them in return,” you shot back, anger rising to the surface.

“You know, for someone that denies her warrior nature, you can be vicious.” He grinned and stepped closer.

“Don’t,” you said as you moved to the right towards the living room.

“Don’t what? Point out the truth?” He taunted and took another step closer.

“This is one of the reasons we broke up, Raditz! I’m never going to be the Saiyan you want me to be. I don’t want to fight and conquer like you do!” You shouted, losing control of your anger.

“You should’ve told me that before we bonded!” He closed the gap and towered over you but you weren’t about to cower.

“This is the exact point I tried to make! You never cared about me! Only what I could provide you, someone to breed and watch your back in battle.” You were seconds from doing one of the stupid things you were trying to avoid.

“Is it so wrong that I want my mate to fight alongside me and bear my children?” He gritted his teeth and clenched his fists.

“It is when the other person doesn’t want it and you refuse to see it! Get it through your fucking head, I will never be what you want!” You screamed back.

He pushed you against the nearest wall and rested his forearm just under your neck to hold you there. You could’ve easily broken away and he knew that, he expected it, but you weren’t giving in.

“Did you really expect me to be happy when I found out you had no intention of conquering planets with the rest of us?” He growled very close to your face.

“I thought you would at least be understanding but I once again overestimated a Saiyan’s ability to care about anything other than fighting and conquering,” you said in a low voice, already exhausted from the fight. Despite the verbal sparring, you felt better than you had since before the breakup. Just having him close, even though you were screaming at each other, was enough.

“That’s all I care about, huh?” He laughed and shook his head, “I came here and told you I’m miserable without you. Do you really think swallowing my pride comes easy?”

Before you could answer, he leaned in and kissed you hard. You pushed against his chest with all of your strength and sent him staggering backwards.

“You don’t get to come in my fucking house and do that anymore!” You yelled before wiping your mouth on the back of your hand.

“Watch me, sweetheart,” he sneered before charging forward.

The first kiss cracked the wall you put up to keep your feelings at bay, the second sent it crumbling to the ground at his feet.

You jumped into his arms and he slammed you back against the wall before his lips came crashing into yours again. He ripped at your clothes and went straight for your neck, biting hard enough to mark you.

The familiarity of his teeth on your neck put a temporary block on the memory of your breakup.

Raditz wrapped his arms around you and walked down the hallway, kissing you along the way.

"It's taking too long, fuck me right here," you pleaded, grinding against his cock. He pushed your back against the wall again and reached down to pull his cock out. The tip grazed your clit as he moved it up and down your cunt before shoving it inside of you.

Your breath caught in your throat from the initial shock. Months had passed since you last felt his cock dragging against your walls while it stretched you.

"I missed this," he grunted. His tail wrapped around your thigh while yours wrapped around his.

Grabbing a handful of his hair, you jerked his head back. "Shut up and fuck me."

"Keep talking like that," he said before slamming into you hard and fast.

"Fuck me harder or I'll go find a stronger Saiyan to do it right," you panted and slapped his face.

He stepped away from the wall and grabbed your ass, lifting you up and down his cock. You let him take full control and felt every last inch of his cock deep within you.

He finally made it to your bedroom and fell back on the bed with you in his arms. You knew exactly what he wanted and wasted no time giving in. Placing your palms on his muscular chest, you bent forward, lifting your hips and bringing them back down with force. His cock hit even deeper and you couldn't help the loud moan that escaped your lips.

You rode him hard and felt your release building rapidly. Everything felt perfect but you knew it was just an illusion. As soon as you came down from the high of being with him again, reality would slap you across the face.

Raditz flipped you to your back and hovered above you, thrusting relentlessly until you came undone. You clenched hard around his cock as you came, moaning his name while your body trembled.

He wasn’t far behind and came deep within you before you fully recovered. He leaned down and kissed slowly from your shoulder to your neck and over to your mouth. You got lost in him for another minute before the blissful haze lifted.

He collapsed on the bed next to you and stared up at the ceiling. You could tell before he even opened his mouth that something else was weighing heavily on his mind.

“Prince Vegeta wants me to go to a planet called Earth to find my brother.”

Silence fell over the room while you processed what he said. It was normal for Saiyans to travel long distances in search of new planets to take but the way he said it made you think there was more to it. There was an edge to his voice that wasn’t there before.

“Do you not want to find your brother?” You turned to face him and fought the urge to scoot closer and drape his massive arm over you.

“I do, but it might take longer than usual and we’re not coming back here. Not right away, at least,” he revealed, glancing in your direction to see your reaction to the news.

“Why are you telling me?”

“Tell me not to go. I’ll stay here so we can fix this.” He turned on his side with a hopeful gleam in his eyes.

You sat up and tried to think with a clear head but it was impossible with him around. The mattress shifted behind you and his hand moved slowly up your back. You took a deep breath and went with the first decision that came to your mind.

“You should go,” you paused and his hand came to an abrupt stop midway up your back, “we”ll try to work on this when you get back. Go find your brother.”

[hanmajoerin]

Polished, but pulled straight from the 2015 vault. Please excuse slightly dated versions of Rinne and Sakura, I wrote this prior to the end of the series.

Summary: Ever since she could see ghosts, Sakura wasn’t afraid of death. Maybe she was afraid of dying, but not what happened afterwards; then she met Rinne, and it was suddenly too hard to be afraid of dying, too.

II AO3 II Fanfiction.Net II

Overtime

The last time Rinne wore that expression was five minutes after Sakura wheeled her life—three suitcases, two purses, and one overstuffed backpack—into the center of his studio apartment. Sakura was practically wheezing as she said, "I want to live with you, Rinne." It was more of a demand than a request, and once she could stand without having to brace her knees, Sakura shrugged her purses and backpack right into the apartment's entryway.

She refused to let Rinne tell her no, a word that appeared to be resting on the edge of his open mouth. She supposed that it shouldn’t have surprised her though when his response finally came. “You deserve more than this.”

Rinne wasn’t necessarily wrong. The place he and Rokumon called home was maybe three steps above Sankai High’s rundown clubhouse. There was a clunky A/C unit that was barely used, a musty aroma that clung to some of Tamako’s old furniture, and a dingy light that hung in the center of the studio apartment’s main room. It was a far cry from a dream home, but Sakura wasn’t looking for that. She’d been looking for him. Sweating through her skin during the summer and shivering regardless of how many sweaters she piled on during the winter didn’t seem all that bad if she and Rinne could continue passing on souls together. That’s why, even after all of this time, she stood by her response to him. “It’s enough.”

Earlier today Sakura stood next to Rinne at her own funeral; it was a bit weird to watch since she felt very much alive, but she stayed in place, hand clamped onto Rinne's shoulder. The shinigami wore an indifferent expression although he stood as rigid as a wooden plank. Death and finding peace were everyday occurrences for both of them she hadn't meant to change, but it was likely all he was thinking about. He was nodding his head, playing along, but she bet he was figuring out how much time was left. Sakura wondered if she should recycle her words from over sixty years ago, but didn’t. Call it intuition, but she figured that the phrase, “it’s enough,” wouldn't have the same effect now. "I'm right here," was all she decided to say whenever his voice strained while talking to her relatives and friends.

After the funeral, Rinne remained in one of her father's black suits, and because he didn't look a day over thirty-five, it continued to fit better than any glove. The dress shoes he wore were weathered, faded. They belonged to Rinne’s grandfather. The outsoles were thin yet Sakura heard each step he took in the afterlife; it was as if they were somehow tangled in the dirt, and he needed to drag himself forward.

They just made it to the street vendors bordering the Entry of Contentedness when it hit Sakura. A new kind of silence was stretching between them that felt out of place, or rather, dated. The two spent most of their lives together, so now was the oddest time to feel like high schoolers again. That's why Sakura hooked her arm around the familiar folds of the haori of the underworld. Her hand easily slid down to Rinne’s. With all its sunken skin and protruding veins, Sakura often wondered if it was weird for her hand to sit in his. Rinne never mentioned anything, even when she was alive. He offered her a gentle albeit forced smile.

"I remember the last few times I was here," Sakura confessed, sounding surprisingly chipper as she took in all the new old faces. "Back when I ripped your haori sleeve, everyone kept asking me if I had any unfinished business and they were so happy that I forgot I had to return it. I think I really understand them now, though."

Rinne offered her another crooked smile, one that was nowhere near as genuine as his salesman’s smile. "That's because it's easy to get swept up in the atmosphere of this area."

"Are you happy now?" Sakura inquired, not bothering to listen to his response. She was lucky, dying an old woman. Although she tended to walk slower, she could walk ten times faster than the stroll Rinne took her on. She wasn’t the one with the attachments. "I wonder what Ageha will do once she realizes I'm gone," Sakura said, staring at the string of red lanterns lining the strip.

"She's still trying to take my old man down; probably won't be back for a while..."

Sakura nodded, watching as one of the elderly men tried catching a goldfish. "That boot-camp her parents sent her to really helped. I never thought she'd learn to pass on souls like you... it definitely made things easier for Oboro."

"Yeah," Rinne hummed and Sakura squeezed his hand. "Jumonji's going to throw an entire briefcase of holy ash at me when I tell him you made it to the wheel," he mumbled, finally looking down at Sakura. His eyes shined like glass. He chuckled alongside her.

"Don’t forget to respond to his new year's letter when you get home," Sakura chided.

In their senior year of high school, Tsubasa transferred again. He promised he'd be back to date Sakura, but once he finally found his exorcism niche, that promise was too difficult to keep. Instead of returning, Tsubasa wrote Sakura a letter every year. After a while, he finally stopped signing them with "Love."

Was it even possible for Sakura to feel more warmth now? She was a content spirit, but the sight of Rinne scoffing and wearing such a nostalgic expression somehow made her feel lighter. "Isn't Tsubasa more tolerable than Matsugo though?" They hadn't seen him since college.

"Sakura Mamiya!" Rinne blurted out, throwing her arm away from his. Sakura couldn’t help but laugh; she hadn’t been called that in decades.

"At least Shoma didn't turn out too bad, right?" The overambitious shinigami inherited his family fortune but still had a lot to learn when it came to pacifying spirits. Rinne helped him out from time to time. "Oh, do you remember when my mother passed? She was so shocked that you offered to lead her to the Wheel of Reincarnation and even more surprised that I could see her."

"Yeah, and your dad tried to kill me when he died; he almost turned into an evil spirit," Rinne added. "Would've been better if he did. At least then I would've gotten a better reward..."

Sakura sighed and stared at the sky above them. It was a mesh of bright colors. Pinks and yellows, soft reds and blues. Whirlpools twirled above them like ballet dancers. Maybe if she didn't know what would happen next, she would've gazed upwards stiffly like her husband. "Did Auntie Tamako tell you how I'll come back?" She asked, leaning against his shoulder as they arrived at the Sanzu River.

Countless adorable boats eased downstream, shinigami and black cats guiding spirits like employees of a theme park. Death and peace, everyday occurrences. Ends followed by new beginnings, an inevitable process. Rinne swept Sakura up bridal style and she leaned her head against his heart. There was no peace to be experienced by listening to it, but Sakura shouldn’t have expected to find comfort in him. They flew over the Sanzu River and Rinne hummed in agreement to Sakura’s question. "You'll be a calico."

And then they arrived at the line, and she was set down. Sakura stared at the stupefied, blissful faces around them. They encouraged her to shed the oncoming urges to memorize every feature on Rinne's face. Sakura Rokudo’s last ties.

"I've had so much fun in this life, and it's all because of you."

The way his shoulders tensed and his mouth quivered when she said stuff like that always made her laugh. "R-really?"

Sakura nodded vigorously, moving in time with the line of souls waiting to step onto the Wheel of Reincarnation. "Yup. Promise you'll find me again so we can make new memories in my next life."

"Alright..." Rinne agreed as a blush blew across the bridge of his nose. "I'll do it."

Rinne lifted her by the waist onto one of the translucent red tiles, planting her square in the center. When Sakura was settled, he interlocked their fingers. "Great," she began, not fighting the pull the wheel had on their grip. "Now I truly have no attachments."

Rinne’s feet lifted off the ground, keeping their hands level. He ignored the idle chatter surrounding them, attempting to mirror Sakura’s carefree attitude. She may have been ready, but he wasn’t. "Excuse me, Sir," a pig-masked worker interrupted, tugging on the bottom of his haori. Maybe it was the spot where the man tugged, but it brought Rinne back to when Sakura used to tug on the sleeve of his office blazer. She’d remind him that, “The only person we should be pacifying until 6:30PM is the manager," as countless spirits wandered through the surrounding cubicles. The memories from their working days seemed so small in light of where they were now and he didn't know what to do. "Shinigami are not permitted beyond this point, please step back onto the platform."

"Right. Sorry," Rinne mumbled, slowly lowering himself until Sakura's hand slid too easily out of his.

She shrunk before his eyes, her spirit becoming more translucent the higher up she went. It took every scrap of courage Rinne had to keep focused. He searched Sakura’s entire face for the moments when they were in high school and he walked a tightrope with their relationship. Her backpack was gone, her uniform was gone, and she hadn't put her hair in braids after their coworker Yumi made fun of her for it, but maybe—just maybe— he'd be able to go back. The years were there after all, lined up along the lines of her face.

"Goodbye,” Sakura said, although he couldn’t really hear her. She waved to him. She asked him to find her. It was a naïve request; humans never lived the same life twice.

"Goodbye, Sakura," Rinne whispered, waving back at his most treasured person as she rounded the top, lost in the Wheel of Reincarnation’s magnificent reds and golds.

-X-

Rinne told Rokumon that he'd return home after guiding Sakura to the Wheel of Reincarnation, but his entire body sagged like a sodden, rotten log. It would be too hard to look at anyone without feeling as if he were troubling them.

"Granny," Rinne stated loudly, sliding the door open and walking into Tamako's house. It was the only place he could stand to be. She was the only one who would understand.

Like clockwork, Tamako materialized to twist her knuckles against Rinne's temples. He was still standing in the genkan. "How many times do I have to tell you not to—Rinne!"

She probably hadn't expected his forehead to fly from her knuckles to her shoulder. Or for the momentum to send them toppling into the hallway. "Rinne?" She asked, raising a brow at the chipped, worn dress shoes his toes dangled over. His back and shoulders rose and fell without rhythm and he wrapped his arms around her but the action brought no comfort. Tamako pushed him back, and Rinne wished she would have let him stay hidden. His eyes glistened as he took deep breaths. "What kind of shinigami are you—crying over something as common as death?"

"I'm a human, kind of thing."

[strawbewwysamurai]

What tomorrow means to you

Characters: Denjiro, Kozuki Hiyori

Wordcount: 1898

Summary:   The dawn was perhaps Denjiro’s favorite time of day.

It was an entirely peaceful time. Not only in the sense that very few souls were even awake at this hour, no, but that did contribute. Where he currently resided, it wasn’t all too far from the hustle and bustle of the city of the Flower Capital, but it was far enough that the sounds of it couldn’t be heard in the slightest. Leaving only the sounds of the local wildlife, and later on, nearby villagers and farmworkers working contently the only noises in this corner of the country.

It was also peaceful, because Denjiro hadn’t gotten to experience such quiet bliss in such a long time.

Post source should have ao3 link !

—

There was snow falling outside. 

It wasn’t heavy though- just a light dusting floating slowly down in the cool air of morning. It was early, enough for just a few stars to remain faintly in the sky above, twinkling faintly among the ever changing colors above. The deep blues and purples of the night had already mostly faded away, making way for the warm oranges and pink of morning that the sun brought with it as it began to rise out over the horizon at the break of the dawn. 

It was winter in the land of Wano, and the rays coming off of the sun reflected off of the ice and snow that had already fallen and formed late into the night, covering the ground and foliage around with frost that sparkled slightly in the light. It added a faint feeling of magic to the morning- the kind that you couldn’t even begin to explain- only experience for yourself or with whoever you might be with in the silence of the morning, enjoying it as wholly as you could before it faded away silently as day overtook it. 

The dawn was perhaps Denjiro’s favorite time of day. 

It was an entirely peaceful time. Not only in the sense that very few souls were even awake at this hour, no, but that did contribute. Where he currently resided, it wasn’t all too far from the hustle and bustle of the city of the Flower Capital, but it was far enough that the sounds of it couldn’t be heard in the slightest. Leaving only the sounds of the local wildlife, and later on, nearby villagers and farmworkers working contently the only noises in this corner of the country. 

It was also peaceful, because Denjiro hadn’t gotten to experience such quiet bliss in such a long time.

He remembered back to years ago, a lifetime away when he was just a thief and conman, roaming the country and not staying in one place for very long. That usually meant he spent his nights camped outside somewhere, up a tree along the thick branches lying quietly as he watched the sunset, or on the ground spread out in a field as he gazed up at the stars sparkling gently above him before he drifted off to sleep that night. 

He exhaled slowly, his breath in plumes against the chill of the air around him.

It had been a quiet time then, especially when contrasted to back before, when he was even younger. The early days when he was just a kid hustling shady adults on the streets- an orphan with no house or home to go back to in a physical sense, for the longest time.

The only places he had ever called home back then, was either anywhere Kin’emon was- or later, Oden castle itself.

Those… had been some wonderfully happy years.

Throughout everything that had happened thereafter- the anger and the grief that changed his appearance unrecognizably, but not the kindness in his heart- the fighting, the deals made with the men he hated more than anything else in the world, the grovelling and false cruelty… all of it. Throughout everything he had gone through over the decades to where he had been recently, he had thought of nothing but those years that he held so dearly even in the moments he had been experiencing them. Through every frustration, every doubt about the future that was coming, every bad day that tried to doubt the need to even see what the next would be like-

He closed his eyes slowly, holding them tightly shut for just a moment, before letting them open again to gaze at the sunrise in front of him, taking a deep breath as he did. 

He wasn’t going to think about the hurt for today.

Today felt like it wanted to be a happy day. He would let it. 

The sun had risen even higher, bathing the landscape surrounding him with the warm light of dawn. Some of the birds with nests nearby finally awakening and filling the morning air with the sounds of their sweet singing,and Denjiro was half tempted to hum along with them, to a song he couldn’t possibly know, when he heard gentle movement happening from behind him. 

Listening carefully to it instead of the bird song, he heard faint movement from inside the house- the sounds of someone stepping lightly towards the door that led out to the balcony he was standing on- before the door slid quietly and someone stepped out behind him. 

“You’re awake quite early.”

He smiled to himself, small and content as he closed his eyes gently for just a moment. Oh, how happy that voice had made him feel over all these years. 

“I could say the very same to you too, little princess.”

He opened his eyes slowly when he felt her move across the balcony and over next to him, leaning on the railing as he was as she laughed softly and looked up at him with eyes still dusted with sleep, bedhead still leaving her hair in loose tangles around her head. She reached out a hand and swept a finger affectionately down his arm warmly. 

“Can’t sleep, I take it?”

He turned to look down at her- the little girl he’d protected every moment he’d known her, and raised as his own after she had stumbled into his care after everything that happened so long ago. The fact of the latter showed- the little mischievous gleam she always had in her eyes, not just that of her father’s, but because of all the mostly harmless tricks he had taught her over the years. 

His expression matched her own sweet and soft one, as he let out a content sigh. 

“Mmm… I slept wonderfully last night, actually.” 

“Oh, so you’re wide awake then?”

“It would seem so.” He chuckled, turning his head back up to face the sunrise before him. He breathed in before he spoke softly again. 

“I am a bit thankful, really. It means I get to enjoy such a gorgeous view for a while.”

There was a peaceful silence between them then, as he watched the sky slowly cool from the warm hues it had carried seemingly moments ago, changing slowly into the blue it would remain for the rest of the day until evening, so long as a storm didn’t roll in unexpectedly. He didn’t expect one to, though. Not with the lack of signs that nodded towards a storm, and how vivid the sky was turning out to be for the day.

Though, as Hiyori turned to watch with him, it occurred to him that he hadn’t yet asked her what she was doing up so early herself. A question appropriate for the girl he knew who would always sleep in if given the chance to in the past.

He glanced down at her.

“Would you be awake for the same reason?”

She laughed, shaking her head. “No, I was just awake, and thought I would get to the laundry for the day before everyone else woke up so they wouldn’t have to worry about it. You know how Kin gets when it comes to chores.”

Denjiro rolled his eyes. “Oh yes, but of course. The man either had to do everything all by himself as rapidly as he can before he burns out, or make everyone work together the very moment they’re awake to get everything done. Quite a wonderful way to be woken in the morning, I might add.”

They smiled at each other at that, breaking down into quietly held back giggles before turning to look out towards the sunrise again. The memory of Kin’emon running around the house with a broom, bonking each vassal with the brush end until they woke up, screeching about the list of chores they had for the morning and exactly how long each should take if they all worked together playing over in their minds. The memory was distant, especially for Hiyori, having been so young when such events occurred, but it still felt like happiness when thought back on. How could they not giggle- the intense expressions Kin’emon was always wearing, and the yelling from Kawamatsu as his hat got knocked off by Kin’emon brandishing the broom like a sword…

It had felt like happiness, to say the least.

When Hiyori looked up at Denjiro silently again, all she could see painted across his face was an expression she could only describe as quiet bliss, not just from the memory of their family being such a lovable mess, but from the dawn in front of him. Something so simple as a sunrise- happening every single day without fail as long as you looked for it- had placed that expression upon his face. She blinked, before smiling just a little bit wider to herself.

She’d only seen him so happy, so content and relaxed, when she was just a small child. 

Denjiro’s eyes flickered down to meet hers a moment later, and she failed to look away quickly enough for him to not notice her staring up at him. He just let out a soft hum, a warm sound against the bite of the air around them, as he reached a hand over to flick a finger gently down her nose before sitting back from the railing. 

“Come on then, my lady. Let’s get going back inside before you catch a cold.”

She pouted- puffing out her cheeks at the latter remark. “I’m fine for a while longer, you know.” 

Nevertheless, she followed him at his side as he laughed and reached down to give her hair a gentle ruffle, surely adding a few extra tangles to her bed head that she probably wouldn’t even notice.

“Sure you are, but I don’t want Kawamatsu getting on my case if you end up with the sniffles later on, my lady.” 

She crossed her arms over her chest with a fake little ‘hmph’, but didn’t stop following next to him for even a second. They stepped back towards the inside of the house, and away from the balcony as Denjiro cast one more little glance over his shoulder to the remains of the sunrise behind him.

It truly was one of a kind, changing and disappearing slowly as the sun rose higher and brought with it the dawn. By now he could begin to hear the faint movements of the nearby villages and houses stirring to life as the people within them began to awaken and begin their days. From the livestock and animals calling out to be fed by their owners, to the faint squeaking of garden gates and wagon wheels as people began to work or prepare breakfast. All their little sounds were filling the air.

Yes, the dawn itself was fleeting. But with it, it brought opportunity. Chances to spend with the ones you loved, doing the things you loved even if just for a little while. To share laughter and smiles just existing next to someone who you held so closely to your heart, like he was so lucky to be able to even throughout all these years.

He smiled to himself as he stepped tenderly back inside, a moment behind Hiyori. 

For once… he actually couldn’t wait to see what tomorrow would look like.

[makomori]

TWO | FAMILIARITY (Brand New Story)

Ushijima Wakatoshi x OC

Nishimura Yua has to take her nephew to his first rep practice with the Tohoku Tigers at Shiratorizawa Academy. Ushijima Wakatoshi is filling in for the assistant coach on said team.

She's recovering from a nasty breakup and he's reeling from a stunning finals loss against the Jackals.

Yua's drawn to his composure and honesty.

Wakatoshi finds her warmth and tenacity intriguing.

It's the start of a Brand New Story; can they heal from past hurts and endure new challenges in order to help each other trust and love again?

CHAPTERS

ONE | NEW TERRITORY

Length: 2.8k words

Yua's well-earned vacation starts with breakfast at her favourite cousin's house. But her habit of being early brings her face-to-face with a certain left-handed wing spiker. 

If you don't like where you are, change it. | Jim Rohn

SATURDAY, 7:33 A.M.

I could get used to this.

Nishimura Yua fully intended to go into Tetsuya’s house to have breakfast. But she was currently leaning against the roof of her car, chin resting comfortably between her hands. The sun was out, a light, crisp breeze swept through the ends of her long, ink-black hair. And the temperature was steady at a cool, but comfortable fourteen degrees Celsius. All signs to the start of a good vacation.

Oh, I could definitely get used to this.

It was hard to describe spring in Sendai. “Beautiful" wasn’t enough to describe how beautiful the city really was. She had as few weeks off until the renovations at Peak 1’s new event management office were finished. A picnic in Mikamine was definitely in order; Amaya would join her in a heartbeat. Or they take a trip to Shiroishi with the kids. Yua loved how quiet it was along the riverside.

After everything that happened in Tokyo, she needed peace in her life right now.

Yua shook her head; it was too early for her mind wander into unsavoury places. Tetsu asked her to grab some eggs because he was making her favourite— scrambled eggs with furikake and rice. Her stomach groaned loudly at the thought, so she locked her car, snatched her bags, and quickly made her way to her cousin’s compact, but welcoming suburban home. As soon as she let herself in, the familiar sounds of fish being grilled, and the warm scent of rice threatened to overwhelm her senses.

“Ojama shimasu!” She called out as she hastily put on a pair of slippers. Tetsu had always been an excellent home cook, and she was happy that she’d get to eat his cooking more often. She wished Amaya could’ve joined them, but she was on a business trip and wouldn’t be back until Monday.

“You’re late,” her cousin teased when he saw her come in. He was still sporting his Dragonball pjs, but his shift at Sendai City Hospital didn’t start until nine, and it was just past seven-thirty now. “I was just about to send out a search party.” He was trying not to laugh because he knew that she always arrived at least a half hour early for anything.

“Well, I was gonna break the door down at seven, but I feel like you would’ve given me shit about it,” Yua huffed as she handed him the eggs. While he deftly cracked a few into a new pan, she moved to the counter to start chopping vegetables. But Tetsu’s right hand shot out and protectively covered the chopping board and its contents.

Before she could protest, he pointed at the dinner table and scolded, “You’re on vacation and I’m treating you to breakfast. Now, sit.”

Yua gaped at him for a few seconds. As one of the Event Directors at Peak 1, she was usually the one giving out instructions, not taking them. But Tetsu was right. She was on vacation, and she made Tetsu promise to remind her to relax.

But that was easier said because she was used to always having a hand in things, even if it was something as simple as helping with breakfast. Kazuki, as a joke, said she was a control freak when they first met. Ironically, it ended up being one of the main reasons they broke up a month ago. This was one of the few times she saw one of her greatest strengths as something negative.

And she still didn’t know how to feel about it.

A gentle nudge from Tetsu brought her back to reality. “You’ll need a good breakfast to deal with the twins later. Natsuko and Sayuri don’t know you’re babysitting, so they’re gonna freak out when they come back from their sleepover.”

Yua pulled out a chair and made herself comfortable. No point in dwelling on past mistakes now. “They’re growing up so fast,” she whined. “I can’t believe they’re eleven now. And Rui’s starting high school in two years!” She sometimes forgot that Tetsu was thirty-six, eight years older than her. He had always been fitness nut, and still somehow managed to be a dad and full-time nurse.

Her cousin laughed and flipped the now-scrambled eggs in the air with ease. “I can’t believe it either. I saw more white hairs pop up the other day, but Amaya says they make me look distinguished.” Yua’s eyes flicked to the back of his head and was surprised when she saw silver peppering his black, low fade. Silver also made an appearance in the beard lining his defined jaw.

“You’re getting old,” Yua ribbed, taking satisfaction at the dark scowl he shot back at her. “Good thing I stopped by Ishiiya last night. These should make you feel much better.” She pulled a tray of chocolate rolls out of her bag and presented them triumphantly on the table.

“Fuck, you got the large ones, too,” Tetsu groaned. “Hide those. I don’t stand a chance against the kids if they find them.”

“Don’t worry,” Yua soothed. “These are just for you and Amaya. I bought apple and custard buns for the little monsters.”

Tetsu’s relieved sigh brought a smile to her face. If he was still fighting over sweets with his kids, he wouldn’t feel old until they were grown and had kids of their own. Ten minutes later, breakfast was ready. In addition to the grilled fish, furikake, and rice, Tetsu had made sunomono and ensured a generous amount of nori was right beside her.

“Itadakimasu!”

The endless gurgling in Yua’s stomach was finally soothed a few plates later. Despite not seeing each other for nearly a year, the two of them spoke and laughed as if they’d seen each other the day before. Tetsu was an only child and lived just a few streets away when they were in Osaki, so he immediately took on the big brother role when she was born.

When he was in high school, he was never embarrassed when she came around and always made time for her, even when he was with his friends. A big part of why she volunteered to move to Sendai and help set up the new office was because Tetsu and Amaya lived only a short drive from her apartment. Plus, her parents and childhood home were now less than an hour’s drive north. It felt so good to be close to home and to people who loved her.

“Thanks again for taking Rui to his first practice with the Tigers. He’s been talking about it nonstop for the last few weeks.”

Yua popped another nori piece into her mouth. “Oh, hush. You know I’d do anything for you and Amaya. And I love Rui-kun to pieces.” They had helped her out countless times in the last few years, so this was the least she could do for them. “I still can’t believe it’s hosted by the Shiratorizawa Academy. Tak is so proud of him.”

“I’m pretty sure Saitou-sensei coached Tak while he was at Shiratorizawa,” Tetsu said with a wide grin. “He said that Rui has the potential to become a great outside wing spiker.”

“Looks like you have a baby ace on your hands,” Yua laughed. Rui was currently at Chidoriyama Junior High. But if he was already noticed by a coach at Shiratorizawa, the chances of him getting into the academy had already increased.

“Rui’s had his eyes set on Shiratorizawa ever since he saw Tak play,” Tetsu chuckled. He started to gather the empty plates and didn’t protest when Yua moved to help. The look she gave him left no room for argument. “I’d be scared shitless for their entrance exams, but Rui’s way smarter than I ever was at his age.”

“Tak said they were brutal but making the volleyball team was worth it.” It was the first time she’d seen her younger brother want something so badly and put in all he had to achieve it. He took that work ethic with him when he graduated and now, he was the starting middle blocker on the men’s team at Waseda University in Tokyo. She knew that Rui could go down that same path if he worked hard and continued to love the game.

“Ugh, tell me again why I decided to switch with Ryo-kun and take the early shift?” Tetsu yawned and tried to sit back down, but Yua pulled him up and shooed him toward the stairs.

“Because you have three lovely children, a beautiful wife, and freeloading cousin to feed, that’s why!”

“The freeloading cousin can afford to feed herself,” he snickered as he grudgingly started up the stairs.

“Nuh uh! I just went through a breakup; everyone should be feeding me.”

~

“Yua-chan? Yua-chan, wake up!”

Yua groaned and wondered who was ruining the best nap she’d ever taken in her life. Maybe it was just a dream. She tried to chase the blissful weightless of sleep, but it quickly fled her grasp. Her eyes blinked open and she saw a Rui standing over her, a toothy grin on his youthful face. He looked almost exactly like Tetsu with angles defining his features, but his eyes were soft like Amaya’s. She returned his grin and sat up from the bed in the spare room, working the odd kinks from her neck slowly.

Rui was wearing his red Chidoriyama tracksuit, and a yellow and blue volleyball was tucked under his right arm. Suddenly, Yua remembered why she was at Tetsu’s house in the first place.

“Rui-kun, what time is it?” She asked, her breath hitching in her throat. Had she overslept? That was one of her greatest fears. Damn, she forgot to set an extra alarm—

“It’s 11:25. I was gonna wake up you earlier, but it looked like you were having a good nap.” The laughter in his voice was evident, but he also sympathized with her because he felt the same after a long practice.

Yua heaved a sigh of relief. Thank goodness. She’d feel terrible if Rui were late to his first practice because of something she did. “You’re right, I was having a good nap. But thank you for letting me sleep.”

“Kaa-san always lets me sleep after practice,” Rui replied, taking a seat beside her. “She says it’ll help me grow.”

“I guess she’s right because you’re taller than me already,” Yua teased. It looks like he’d grown almost two inches since the last time she saw him.

“Well, you’re not that tall anyway, Yua-chan.” The laughter was back in his voice. He was definitely Tetsu’s son.

“You’re sounding more like your dad every day,” She pouted as she ruffled his thick black hair. “He always gave me a hard time about my height.”

Rui was so happy when he heard that Yua-chan moved to Sendai. He never got to see her because Tokyo was far, even by train. She and Tak-kun had always treated him and his sisters like siblings and they took them to the best places whenever they did come to visit.

Yua checked her phone. 11:28. Shiratorizawa was only twenty minutes away by car. It was early, but she wondered if Rui wanted to go early to check things out and get a head start on warming up. The coaches and managers were usually there to set everything up, anyway.

“Rui-kun, I know it’s early, but do you want to leave n—”

Her nephew cut her off by jumping to his feet. “I’ve got my bags by the door already!” Before she could answer, he hurried to the door and down the stairs. She smiled. Tetsu wasn’t exaggerating when he said Rui was excited for practice.

Half an hour later, they pulled into Shiratorizawa Academy. Yua had forgotten how big the place actually was. But she had visited enough to remember how to get to the office and the main gymnasium. She was worried that the office assistant wouldn’t let them in, but fortunately, one of the coaches had already arrived and was setting everything ready for practice.

Yua could feel Rui’s excitement build with each hurried step they took towards the main The grip on her hand grew firmer as the sharp, repetitive thud of a volleyball hitting the wall reached their ears. His pace quickened and she matched it so her shoulder wouldn’t be ripped out of its socket.

“Someone’s doing a wall spikes drill!” He all but squealed just before he dragged her through the doors. “Coach Hayate made us do that yesterday!”

Yua grinned at his energy; it reminded her of Tak when he started playing. “Tak hated that drill until he learned how to snap his wrist down properly,” she chuckled. “He almost drove mom crazy because he’d practice outside against the kitchen for hours.”

But Rui had barely heard her. He had tossed his duffel onto the floor and begun rummaging through it quickly, muttering something she couldn’t quite hear. Not wanting to disturb him, Yua checked her watch. 11:58. Practice didn’t start until 1, and she still hoped that they weren’t imposing by being this early.

Punctuality was a hard habit to break since being an event planner repeatedly taught her that there was no such thing as “too early”. She had witnessed several events almost derail despite everyone arriving early and trying to account for any surprises. It never hurt to be on the slightly paranoid side.

Yua quickly found the source of the steady THUD, THUD-THUD, they heard on the way in. At the back of the spacious gym, a man was diligently performing a wall spikes drill just like Rui had said. He wore black shorts and a white, long-sleeved shirt. Yua could tell that he was tall, but that was no surprise as most players were close to six feet and over.

What did surprise her was his technique. Even from this distance, she noted that his movements were effortless and precise; habits that could only be honed through hours and hours of practice. As the ball bounced toward the man, he cranked his left arm back and paused for a breath before a hard and fast overhead swing sent the ball hurling back to the wall to start the endless cycle again. Yua wasn’t a player by any means, but she knew enough about volleyball to understand this man’s skill was something special.

No doubt he was a wing spiker.

That surprised Yua even more. There were very few lefties in any sport, and she only knew of one volleyball player who made a name for himself playing southpaw. As she eyed him more closely, she thought his features and bearing seemed familiar, but she wouldn’t be able to discover more until he turned around.

She saw the net, posts, and antennas laying haphazardly on the ground nearby; he must have started to set up for practice before deciding to warm up instead. Besides, it was easier to set up with two people. He’d most likely accept her offer to help if she extended it.

As Yua considered more options, she was reminded about how much she missed going to Tak’s games. The Waseda campus was only a twenty-minute train ride from her apartment, but she could barely find time for even herself in the last six months because of the back-to-back events she had to plan and execute for Peak 1. Anything social had to take the unfortunate backseat. She always made sure to watch replays of his games, though. It made her heart clench every time she thought about it, because she was his biggest fan other than mom and dad.

Yua shook her head, opting not to give her guilt a chance to creep in. There was enough of that to deal with in her other relationships. She crossed her arms and went into planning mode. Eyeing the man again, it was safe to say that he was either the head coach or, at least, an assistant coach. Ideally, the net had to be up and level before the rest of players and coaching staff arrived, so he’d definitely benefit if she offered to help him.

Plus, she could introduce Rui and ask if he’d be willing to pepper with him or practice a drill before everything started. Yes, that could work. It was a win-win situation. Tetsu probably knew the other coach’s name, but she forgot to ask him before he left this morning. Ah! She turned back to Rui, hoping that he’d be able to help, but her brow furrowed when she saw him gaping at the man on the other side of the gym.

“Rui-kun?” He instinctively reached for her and she closed her hand over his, hoping to provide him with some reassurance.

“Yua-chan…” His normally strong voice was timid, so she could barely hear it above the ball’s constant thudding.

“Sweetheart, what’s the matter?”

He swallowed, trying to find his voice again. He turned to her, his brown eyes blown wide with awe and realization.

“T-that’s Ushijima Wakatoshi."

[little-writings]

Jumin Week: Day 6 {Future}

Old and grey, you and Jumin spend the day together and wonder what could possibly come next in your lives.

Word Count: 2,556

Hello! I’m sorry I haven’t posted for every day, this week (Not Jumin week but just this general week) has been maybe the most stressful of my life? Probably not, but I’ve barely had any good days these past couple months so maybe it’s just wearing down on me. But regardless, I truly hope you enjoy this prompt and you yourself have a terrific day! Thank you, dearies <3

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Jumin woke in the morning with a yawn, the old familiar aches creeping in like the aged engravings of wood. 

The spot in the bed beside him was sunken but empty, the bedsheets spilling over onto his side with the familiar, albeit faded smell of your perfume. It brought a smile to his face, his crow’s feet growing worse every day because of you and your innate talent of brightening his days. 

He rose from the bed and his bones rattled in that curious way his father once warned him of. 

But funnily enough, Jumin hadn’t felt the years go by.

He remembered all the birthdays, the celebrations, and even the downs alongside the ups. 

Yet like a flowing breeze, it never weighed down upon him -- the loss of his youth never frightened Jumin. If anything a part of him had always looked forward to it. 

After all, it meant Jumin grew old with you. 

You both watched your hair fade to grey and wrinkles settle along your face in the nights full of quiet laughter where you’d draw along the outlines like one would with their palms. 

Jumin found you outside on the balcony you’d transformed into a garden years ago. The sky overhead was almost cloudy but patches of sunlight still broke through, a stream of such light spilling onto you in a splash of warmth. 

Jumin knelt down next to you, pressing a tender kiss to the side of your head. 

“Good morning love.” He hummed, his voice low and crackling, far less smooth than it once was but far softer and kinder in turn. 

You smiled and leaned into him, wisps of your grey hair winding ever so delicately with his fingers as he wrapped an arm around you, easing you close. Even now, years, decades, since you met, you remained tethered at the hip. 

“Good morning!” You beamed, your cheeks rosy and bright. “Did you get the tea I left you in the kitchen? I just made it. It’s your favorite, lavender!” 

“No, I must have missed it,” Jumin remarked. “I’d be more than happy to go get it if you’d join me.” 

“And what of the flowers?” 

“Surely they can withstand an hour on their own. I can have someone come up and care for them if you’d like.” 

You paused and an amused tinge washed over your smile. “I suppose they could...” Your shoulders dropped with a sigh. “I don’t even know why I started this garden somedays.” 

Jumin chuckled and rose to his feet, helping you up in return -- neither of you nearly as nimble as you once were. 

“Well, if it’s any consolation, I quite like your garden.” He glanced back at their blooming petals, a myriad of shapes, sizes, and colors. “I especially like your forget-me-nots.” 

“I would never not plant them!” As you both stepped inside you took a seat by the dining table and fiddled with your ring, the engravings weathered still just as true as the day you put it on your finger. “They were our wedding flowers.” 

“Exactly.” He took the still steaming cup of tea in his hands, his palms warming at the very touch. He took a sip and it warmed his entire body in an instant. “Do you want anything, dear?” 

“Oh no, I had honey and lemon earlier!” You sat back. “I watched the sunrise.” 

“Why didn’t you wake me? You know I would’ve loved to join you.” 

“You looked so peaceful!” You laughed and any symphony paled in comparison. “You used to so rarely get a full night’s rest -- I think you really needed retirement -- time for yourself... everyone needs it.” 

“I didn’t have anything to retire for, once.” He stood beside you, setting a hand on your shoulder and squeezing it tenderly. 

“You and Elizabeth 3rd could’ve gone on a wonderful vacation together.” You chimed. “I think she would’ve liked that.” 

That sweet, darling cat with fur as white as snow and eyes like a crystalline sky had passed away years ago but lingered ever so present as though she never entirely left. Jumin still kept her collar hidden away in his coat pocket -- like she may appear missing the little chime of her bell. 

She was family, as much as anyone else, but at least she left in her sleep, peacefully cuddled between the two of you, purring so loud and so sweet. That was all you could’ve asked for. However, you weren’t afraid to admit that tears still brimmed at the edge of your eyes thinking of it. 

“It was a shame she never liked the leash.” Jumin simpered. “But without you, I don’t think our family would’ve ever been entirely complete.” 

“Well don’t you worry,” You patted his hand and tipped your head up to give a grin as youthful as the day you met. “I’m not going anywhere.” 

Jumin softened -- but weakened all the same. 

How much longer could you truly keep that promise? 

When you were younger that statement was so easy to say -- there was no sort of inevitability weighing down on your hearts. You married, you had a family, and you were utterly and absolutely blissful. None of that had changed. 

But each and every day, Jumin woke up a tad bit more afraid that you wouldn’t be there beside him -- you’d be no more -- and all over again Jumin would be alone. 

The world became dark and cramped at the very idea -- it was a world that he didn’t belong in -- a world foreign to-

“Jumin,” You squeezed his palm, snapping him back to reality. “I’m still here. I’m okay, and so are you.” 

Jumin remembered to let out the breath caught in his throat and a weight lifted from his body he hadn’t even recognized -- like cinderblocks tethered to his ankles being unbound. He was here and now. 

“R-Right... of course -- I’m sorry,” He folded his lips sheepishly, trying to undo the knot in his brow. “What would you like to do today?” 

You stood up and wrapped a gentle hand around his cheek, your husband melting into the touch as if it were easier than blinking. 

“I think a walk would be good.” 

You always said that when Jumin needed to clear his mind. 

The streets had become quieter as the years passed by. Perhaps all the honking horns and antsy tires dulled in his ears, but it no longer popped and crackled along the streets like it once did. 

Jumin didn’t mind it -- if anything, it gave him more of a chance to notice other things. The people, their conversations, the sky, the shops, and you. 

You chattered about all sorts of things and Jumin adored every minute of it. The second he chimed in you’d watch with wide eyes larger than dinner plates and Jumin couldn’t even finish without a smile stretching from ear to ear. 

“You should’ve been a comedian you know,” You said as they dawdled, the clouds now having parted to reveal a sunny and warm afternoon. “I would’ve gone to every show.” 

“Why do you say that?” 

“I love your jokes. I loved it when you’d call me just to tell me one you’d think of in a meeting.” You bit back a snort. “There was one -- it was my favorite -- about cats... shopping...?” 

Jumin was a tad bit embarassed that the joke came to him almost immediately. “Why don’t cats like shopping online...?”

 “They prefer... prefer a... a cat-alouge!” Like a firework, you lit up. Jumin’s heart swelled at the sound of your laughter, overwhelming anything else around you in a sea of warmth and wonder. Nothing else mattered. “Ah -- that’s it!” 

Jumin tipped his head to the side, smirking. “I don’t think my father would’ve approved of the career choice.” 

“He would’ve come with me to every show,” You mused. “I’d drag him if I had to!” 

“I sure you would’ve. I could always come out of retirement if you’d like.” 

“I only want you to do what you want.” You ruffled his hair, curly strands falling over his face. “But I would help you write your routines.” 

“Mmhm,” You shared a fond kiss and the faintest taste of tea still hung on your lips, sweet and warming. “As tempting as that sounds, I think I’ll stay right here.”

“I think that works just fine.” 

With your arrival home came a rush of refreshing, cold air. The day was spent settled on the sofa with a book settled between the two of you. Jumin found himself enthralled with stories since he’d gained the time to actually read them outside the late hours of the night. Though, since you joined him, the two of you typically spent until those late hours of the night talking about the stories. 

It was nice to finally have someone to talk to. 

You brought that thought to his head often. 

Yet as the evening trickled in with its colors of orange, yellow, and red, you rose from your spot beside him and stretched your weary limbs. 

“I need to go check on the flowers. Will you be alright?” 

Jumin chuckled. “Yes, of course, love.” 

He watched you leave and listened to the sound of the door opening and closing with a faint tug of his heart. He knew it was silly, but he already missed you. 

Goodness, how ridiculous he felt. How much worse would this be when you couldn’t come back? Not because you wouldn’t but because you couldn’t.

What would Jumin do when there was no longer you to wake up to?

Who would he look for in the mornings? Who would he spill all his thoughts and questions to? Whose smile and laughter could possibly even begin to light up his days like yours?

Who could Jumin ever possibly love in the unfathomably unmeasurable way he loved you? 

Who could he spend his days with... if not with you? 

What would even be the point of those days anymore? Without you, the world felt cold and unnerving -- like those craggy old spaces in Jumin’s mind full of tangles and twists that sent chills up his spine and lumps in his throat. He’d already lost so much -- the one thing he couldn’t stand -- couldn’t make it through -- was losing you. 

Jumin’s vision blurred and a tear dropped fell to the page of the story still clasped in his hands. 

He blinked slowly, suddenly a single instinct blazing through him as he scrambled for his phone, calling you.

Jumin could remember the restless nights he called you when you’d first joined the RFA. The way he spilled open his heart like the cracking walls of a dam, and how you listened -- ever so patient, and ever so kind. 

He just wanted to hear your voice -- that was all. Just for a moment and he’d be fine. Wouldn’t he?

You answered. 

“Jumin? Honey, why are you calling me? I’m just on the balcony, silly!” 

“Love...” Jumin sat down, his leg thumping against the floor, restless. His voice threatened to break and grew softer by the second. “Could you promise me something?” 

“What is it?” 

“When... when one of us has to pass -- let it be me.” Jumin pinched the bridge of his nose with a shaky sigh. “I-I’m not ready to be without you. I don’t think I could do it.” 

You didn’t speak, and Jumin thought he might shatter. 

“Come outside.” You murmured. “Could you?” 

“Ah... of course.” 

The evening air was cool with the faintest tinge of stars creeping over the grand roofs of the skyscrapers. Perhaps were it any other situation Jumin would’ve stargazed with you until you were dozing off with yawns and heavy lids, but now all inside of him was a deep, black pit of fears breaking through in full force. 

You gestured to him to a pair of seats overlooking the balcony, ornate and aged -- just like the two of you. He sat down across from you, your hand settling on his knee before he could begin tapping. 

“Jumin, what’s going on...?”

“Are you telling me you haven’t thought of it?” He furrowed his brow. “Not even once?” 

“Of course I have. We’re not young anymore -- and no one can avoid death,” You answered gently. “But I don’t think it does us any good to be afraid of passing on.” 

You spoke gingerly, leaning close. “We don’t know what happens after all this. Who’s to say we won’t start all over again? Just a different life and a different place? Or maybe there’s an afterlife. Maybe there’s nothing at all.” 

“I don’t understand.” 

“Whatever it is -- wherever we end up -- we’ll find each other again.” 

“Darling, you know I don’t believe in fate-” 

“And who said it was going to be because of fate?” You scoffed, smirking. “I will do whatever I can to find you no matter where we are!” 

Jumin raised his head, eyes widening in surprise. 

You puffed out your cheeks indignantly, stubborn as always, but your words still wavering with overwhelming emotion. “I swore to you when we married that I would be with you forevermore. That doesn’t stop because of something as silly as dying!”

You took in a sharp breath, and a few tears broken from your eyes, pouring down your cheeks, Jumin immediately reaching out to wipe them away. 

“As long as you love me, I will stay -- I’ll find a way to you,” You took his hand as it lingered on your cheek and held it close, clinging. “I’m just as scared but-” 

“As long as there’s a chance, we’ll do everything we can to find each other again,” Jumin shifted to lean over you, pressing a kiss into your hair. 

“And I’ll never stop loving you, so I suppose we’re stuck together.” He tipped his forehead against your own, your eyes puffy and gleaming with affection.

“I don’t want anyone else.” 

Jumin embraced you and his arms wound around you like vines vying for sunlight -- so fervent and so desperate like it were all he ever wanted. Neither of you were ever quite sure when you’d let go -- and neither of you cared. 

You weren’t young and youthful as you once were -- your skin was wrought with wrinkles and your hair was greyer than dust but your love hadn’t changed, not a bit. That adoration was still just as enduring and unending as ever -- and it would be, whether in this life or the next it would prevail. 

You just had to find each other. 

And neither you or Jumin would ever stop searching. 

[imagine-loki]

Return

TITLE: Return CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter Two AUTHOR: theterrifyingtermite ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine that, at the end of Endgame, Loki comes back. Only one problem: this isn’t your Loki… RATING: T NOTES/WARNINGS: Trigger warning: Loki is not very nice in this part. Leading lady is dragged about a bit and treated pretty harshly on a mental standpoint - and caused physical pain through that avenue. The fact that this is not okay is addressed later on in the fic.

(and yes - I know the majority of this is totally based on a Star Wars force ability but my creativity only goes so far, so forgive me lol)

Chapter Two:

“Loki?” came her repeated whisper, bridging the length of the room.

Still he stared at her, jaw working; teeth clenched.

It was then that her gaze began to travel down his body; her eyes automatically drinking in the sight of him. He had overturned a lamp, and his boots had shuffled around the rug until it lay rumpled.

But it was him.

And yet, it wasn’t the man she remembered.

His hair was shorter and curling up at the ends. His hands, unusually bare for his state of formal attire, were raw and red. His robes were scorched, torn; dirtied. His face had a sharp edge to it, and his eyes…

…they looked like the memories he had shown her.

Another heartbeat, and her eyes widened. “You’re younger-” she breathed, shifting back a step.

A mistake. The air took on a near electric rumble.

She should have stopped then.

Her mouth kept moving.

“-you look like you did right after New York.”

Another mistake. His eyes narrowed, and he was across the room in a flash, fully the hunter chasing down skittish prey, even as she tried to dart away. He grabbed her by the arms and shook her.

“Who are you?”

Danger emanated from his being; she found herself wilting under the pressure of it.

“I- I was; I mean, we were – “

“How do you know me?” His voice had raised to a shout, fingers digging bruises into her; his words going deeper.

She choked down a sob, forcing herself to meet his eyes. “We were friends. You loved me; you proposed-.”

“Liar,” he spat at her, interrupting her, teeth bared in an expression akin to a snarling wolf.

Her heart shattered; she wondered if he could see it in her eyes.

“I’m telling you the truth. I found you after an accident. You never told me what happened,” a laugh flung itself from her, before her eyes welled anew. “You came back to visit me time and time again, and then, well…”

He scoffed at that and released her arms, one hand coming up to grasp her throat, pulling her up on her toes. “Give me one good reason not to be rid of you now.”

“Look for yourself. Memory walk. I know you can,” she gasped out as his fingers tightened.

His gaze sharpened to a deadly point. She was barely able to keep her eyes on his, yet she knew she must.

The man before her was not the man she had known. She knew that now. But he was still Loki. He was – even if he was younger, harder, and more hurt than she had ever known him to be.

And that allowed a bolt of fear to suddenly race through her. 

“Please don’t hurt me,” she whispered, her heart pounding.

“As if it matters,” was what he snapped at her, a dangerous glint in his eye. Then the grip at her neck shifted to the back of her head to hold her in place as the gates of her mind flew open.

She closed her eyes.

___

There was their first meeting. Of a broken man on a sidewalk; of begrudging assistance and hysterics. Of fairs and boots and saving her; loving her; choosing to come back time and time again; holding her–

Of regular days. Living, walking; just being together. Teaching him how to cook. Teaching him how to bake. Laughing and groaning and frustration and joy. Peace. Simple happiness.

Nutella and fishes.

So ridiculous; so simple. They had been so happy.

In another world, this easy delight was unable to be recognized.

Promises; protection – and then peace at heart. Something so dear growing to something so precious.

___

It was nothing like before. He had done this with her many times before, to share his own life when words failed him; to know what she meant on an internal level. This thought was crowding the images through which Loki was blazing a tunnel. And yet, there was nothing she could do. He ignored her. She felt as if she were floating away from her body.

Pieces of their life; of herself were being pulled, torn, and shoved away heedlessly.

Nothing was overlooked.

Was this what it felt like to die?

___

I haven’t been honest with you, he had whispered to her one day.

They had been curled up on her sofa, some mindlessly silly film playing quietly.

It had been a year ago. There was snow and cold, and safety being so near to him.

She had hitched a shoulder up in a shrug, tilting her head back to look up at him. He had kept his eyes forward, refusing to meet her gaze. Reaching up and brushing a hand against his face hadn’t helped.

That touch; that familiar feeling of him coursed through her until it was roughly passed over.

There was a quiet fear in his eyes. A bracing for rejection.

He told her that he was King of Asgard; that he had been King of Asgard for some time, and that’s why he had not been able to see her as frequently.

It meant something. It suggested something deeper; something darker than she had wanted to believe him capable of.

And yet.

Would he tell her the story one day? With a smile, and a gentle poke to his nose, the question was asked.

In another world, there had only ever been one person to care for him as he was.

He had blinked, bemused, before slowly agreeing. The hesitance slipped away when she had curled up closer; had laced her fingers through his own.

After pulling her close and burying his face in her shoulder, he had sighed, and a film of contentment colored over the details of the rest of the evening that had faded away.

___

Her hands were grasping at something familiar. 

His body, that she knew at once through her touch.

And then, the blur was eased, and she found herself pulled into that perfect day.

Not this one, she begged internally, feeling the words towards the invading presence of his mind. Not now.

He didn’t listen.

___

It had been some time since she had seen him. Past his due time. Yet, as promised, he had come. He had come, swung her around the kitchen and laughed with her. Then he had pulled out a blindfold and rumbled in her ear about a surprise.

She had nodded.

He had covered her eyes, wrapped her up again into his arms, and whirled them away to some distant place.

When she was allowed to see again, all that was before her was verdant. The brightest green grass and trees ever known. There was an estate in the distance, past a field of wheat and tall grass, but he pulled her in the opposite direction.

Where are we? She had laughed, stumbling after him and his long legs, barely able to speak for joy.

Over the ocean, he had grinned over his shoulder, pulling her down a path and along a stream.

Eventually they had come around a corner, and he had briefly squeezed her hand before slowing to a walk. She was still giggling; he was still smiling brightly. Come this way, he had murmured, leading her down a little side way she hadn’t noticed before they darted up it.

They reached an arbor: a perfectly sculpted globe of tightly woven vines. Loki tugged her inside it, spinning her around again by her hands; dizzying them both.

When she was breathless once more, he pulled her against him, lowering his mouth to hers for one agonizingly blissful moment. How she had loved him. Oh, she loved him so dearly still.

In another world that thought; that feeling was met by a flinch before being rushed over.

Then he was gazing at her, eyes suddenly cautious, and his voice shaking. Things were changing on Asgard. She had been so patient; so willing to understand. Only a little more time, and then…

And then…

She could stay with him. In all decorum, naturally. Did she know what that meant?

A smile. A gentle prodding.

A faltering. A question.

An easy answer.

A ring.

And then she saw very little of the rest of the memory, but the feeling of his jacket under her shoulders; of his body burning hot against her own; of knowing she was so very safe and cherished in his arms.

___

This world he had pulled her into had different rules.

Somewhere; somehow, she could hear their child screaming.

___

And then there was the rest of the night; of waking up at first light to find him still there. Of the whispers of his speedy return.

Two weeks. Maybe three. Then never again.

A lingering kiss.

A smiled goodbye.

Crossed-out days on a calendar.

An apology to her boss; a vague redirection.

A bag organized.

Waiting.

Waiting…

In another world, no one had ever waited for him before.

…waiting…

___

And then a flare of light; of power – and Loki was flung from her mind and from her body.

She was barely conscious of sliding to the carpet and collapsing in a heap.

All she knew was her child had calmed; satisfaction from within overwhelmed her before she fainted. ___

When she was able to open her eyes, it was with a greater effort than the last time she had been in this position.

She groaned, head swimming; memories jumbled together. So many sights and feelings had flown through her at once. It was as if the last few years of her life had been lived at once. Every joy and every pain – they had all been torn through; devoured.

The baby was moving harder and faster than ever before this moment. It felt as if raw energy was exuding from her womb; withdrawing bit by bit with every passing breath. Loki was crouched on the other side of the room, staring at her, his own chest heaving.

 “What was that?” came as a hiss through her daze.

Squinting, she dragged herself up to a sitting position, one arm cradling his – their – her child, and tried to glare back.

It was useless through the blur of tears and pain bludgeoning the inside of her head.

“That was all of us,” she gasped out finally, reaching the other hand up to rub at her eyes.

He had started to deny it and mention something else when his voice broke, and she dropped her eyes as well.

His gaze was focused in on the ring still on her hand, and he stood up instinctively, darting over to where she sat. Even as his hands grasped at hers; even as several denials were cried, she was helpless as Loki pulled her fingers out of a fist and wrenched the ring off her finger.

He moved away from her immediately, tucking the hand clutching the ring against himself, as she reached out after him, tears welling up faster and harder.

“That’s all I have left,” she cried out, watching in desperation as he snatched up the Tesseract once more, no doubt willing it to pull him away.

A sneer she had seen so many times, but never directed towards herself curled up his lip, and his eyes sharpened as he glared at her and then pointedly looked down.

“You have more than enough already,” was the tight response.

And then, in a swirl of light, he was gone.

[cloudyyoonji]

Night Changes.

Hwang Hyunjin x Reader 

BASED ON ANON REQUEST

Summary: He was your summer, your autumn, your winter, and your spring.  

Genre: Fluff with lots of angst. A fluffy ending!

____________________________

The summer was full of so many good memories. You both lived so dearly in each moment, reveling in the endless concerts and road trips. You were both like the wild Fae, dancing and dancing into the night with no one but each-other by your sides.

So as the leaves turned brown and dancing became afternoon strolls, you readied yourself for a blissful winter, one full of hot food and comforting nights.

Autumn bought new experiences, new ideas even. Hyunjins birthday had seemed to come quite fast, and you weren’t sure what to get him. Something meaningful perhaps? This led you to enslave Minho as your personal shopping assistant.

As you step outside, Minho at your side, the air is cool, the breeze carrying the leaves down the street in a tornado-like hustle. Padded jackets on and laces done tight, you push through into the day, cheeks left slightly red and stinging when you arrive at a small jewelry shop not too far away from the dorms.

“I think he’d like a bracelet, you know. Actually, he’ll like anything that comes from you.”

You glare up at the male, flat look on your features. “It has to be perfect, you know that. That’s why I need you to help me.”

The boy smiles, rolling his eyes before pointing to the bracelet you were looking at. “I know for a fact he’ll like that bracelet Y/N.”

You examine the bracelet carefully in your hands. “You really think so? It’s not too boring of a gift?”

Minho leans down to catch your eye, a gentle smile on his features. “Get the bracelet. He’ll love it.”

Smiling brightly, you turn to the cashier, asking her if you can purchase the bracelet.

You’re to caught up in your thoughts to notice Minho turning around, phone pressed to his ear, but when he suddenly grabs your arm as soon as the bag touches your fingertips, you know somethings wrong.

“Pull your hood up. Paparazzi know we’re here.”

And with his words, your tugging at your hood, the boy doing the same.

Both sprinting out of the shop, you try your best to ignore the flashes and focus yourself on getting to the car to get out of this flurry of people.

Breathing a sigh of relief, both of you are quick to get into the car. The sound of camera flashes almost nonexistent over the sound of the engine as you speed back to the dorms.

“Shit that was close.” Minho pants, looking back at the group of people who seem to be fading out of sight entirely. 

You nod in agreement, too puffed to even speak. The bag is held tightly in your fingers, safe from total damnation.

Minho gesture to the bag. “Are you going to hide that somewhere?”

You nod, a quick smile playing on your lips. “In the laundry, right on the top shelf where I keep the extra washing powder. He’ll never look there.”

The boy smiles, nodding. “That’s a good place indeed. He’ll never find that.”

Only a few days later, your winter coat seems to hold a different meaning, one that disguised your true intentions. You’re keen to get home, the long day of shift work at the local coffee shop making your back sore and your feet desperate for just even a second of a break. Your punching in the code to your apartment fast, craving the warmth of your heater in this cold weather.

But your shuffling feet come to a halt when you see a disgruntled Hyunjin in the living room, now standing as you’ve entered.

The silence is eerie, too eerie. It’s as if a string between you two had broken, but neither of you knows what string it is as work at desperately trying to repair it.

He’d seen it, the photos of you and Minho, more malicious then you’d expected. The news article depicts your search for the right birthday present as a secret date, a secret date with Minho.

And just like that, the leaves fade from a yellow-orange to a crumpled brown, stems bare as they face on the winter to come. 

Talking turned to screaming in one falling leaf, so much doubt anxiety just adding fuel to the fire as you fight about one photo, one photo that has been read so completely wrong it makes you sick.

As the words come flying, it is clear there can be no take backs once they leave your mouths.

And just like that, autumn becomes winter in only a few short minutes.

The temperature in your house not only dips but as does the communication with Hyunjin; frozen, damaged and dying.

It only got colder.

The air around you is cold, thick with rain that seems to turn to ice the moment it hits your skin. Much like the water below you.

Gongdong bridge is nice this time of the night, one of your favorite spots in the whole of Seoul. A spot that made you unconditionally happy. There was just something about the way the skyline met with Han River that made it so beautiful and fascinating.

But yet again, the water below seemed to reflect your missing half in the water below.

Pushing through the rain, you step closer to the railing, eyes falling to the rippling water below. The wind seeps into your bones, but you barely feel it over your eerie emptiness.

The rivers reflection of the night sky makes it appear as if an everlasting galaxy is laid across its surface. It almost looks peaceful; unsettlingly perfect. But beneath the surface is black, something much sinister than darkness itself, but somehow more comforting than the black abyss.  

And the creatures in the river, were they sleeping? Were the fish sheltered under rocks or plants lying dormant until the first rays of sun hit the water? Or were they darting around, as awake as you are now?

You lean further over the rail, desperate to catch even a glimpse of the scaley creatures below. Are you awake? Are you here with me at this ungodly hour of the night?

"Y/N?"

The voice gives you a heart attack, body turning in the direction of the voice before your mind can even register. 

Felix is walking towards you, fingers flexed over his phone. There's something a little off about his appearance; it being more tattered than it usually was - hair wet and tousled by the wind and clothes soaked by the pouring rain. The boy takes deep breathes, suggesting that perhaps he'd been running. But in this weather?

"Y/N, we've been looking for you."

"We?" You question, eyes narrowing in on the boy.

"Yes, we. Hyunjin too," He swallows, hand reaching out from his pocket to gesture at you. "Just please move away from the railing, it's making me nervous."

So you push back, standing your ground a few feet from Felix, trying not to let the boy see how shocked you are.

Felix takes out his phone, pressing it to his ear to give a few short replies to the person on the other line.

"Yeah, I've found her... Gongdong Bridge... Okay, I'll do that... Be there soon."

He steps forward, phone now tucked into his pocket, and freehand raised to grab your arm. "I'm taking you back to the dorms."

You immediately recoil, pushing your wrist out from his grip, stepping back. Fresh tears roll down your cheeks, eyes filled with more to come.

The rain couldn't mask everything. Especially not your pain.

Shaking your head, you look up at the boy who seems just as shocked as you were. 

"You're not taking me anywhere."

Soaked to the bone, your words make you shiver, light cardigan doing nothing in keeping you warm.

"Y/N please." "No," Now you're physically shaking, tears rolling with the rain. "I will not go with you. I won't see him, I won't."

"Y/N."

This time it's not Felix, but someone else from behind you. Turning quickly, your eyes are wide and glassy; vulnerable.

It's like he was untouched by the winter, eyes still holding the same glimmer as they did in the summer, just the way you remembered them to be. Clouds of breath swirl around him, damp hair catching ever so slightly in the breeze of the winter that seemed it would never end.

As he shifts to hold out his hand to you, you immediately back up, pulling not just your soaked cardigan closer to you, but your guards too.

But when you notice him tug at the sleeve of his own coat, revealing a glint of silver that seems to hit you straight in the chest.

The boy scans your features for a moment, looking down at the bracelet he now cradles with his other hand.

"Minho gave it to me on my birthday. He said it was from you.”

You say nothing, eyes wide and unblinking as you stare at the item you’d come to hate, despise.

“Well,” he sighs, “I say gave, but he actually threw it at me.

Hyunjins arms drop back to his sides, hands slipping into the pockets of his coat. “He had every right to.”

Finally, you two make eye contact. It’s everything you remember, the brown bringing back so many fond memories of late night cuddles and peaceful mornings. You find yourself melting into the summer a little, losing touch of the winter you’re in, the reality you’re in.

“I had no right to say what I did to you. To Minho too.”

The words make you break, another stray tear lost to the rain.

“You know,” Hyunjin shifts his gaze to the watery horizon, now barely visible in the dark. “He told me everything a few days after it happened. How it was a surprise for me, how he felt nothing towards you, everything you said to me that night in your apartment. I was stupid, stupid enough to ignore you-”

His voice breaks off with a crack, eyes desperately searching for something lost in the distance before coming to rest on you, his lost treasure.

“You’re stupid Hyunjin.” You finally speak, eyes scanning his, your eyes as cold as the river below you both.

“I know!” He cries, “I know I am! I let the most precious thing I ever had slip out of my fingers. I loved you Y/N, I still do love you!”

“You have no idea how hard these few weeks have been” you monotone, eyes glazed over; frozen with tears. “Hwang Hyunjin we both said some terrible things.”

His gaze is now on his feet, the rain barely masking the tears rolling down his cheeks.

“But I’ve missed you too much.”

Eyes wide, his gaze snaps to you as you almost subconsciously walk towards him, attracted like a magnet.

Standing in front of each other, you can practically see just how the winter has affected him; eyes red-rimmed, breathing labored, cheeks wet with a mixture of rain and tears.

Throwing your arms around the boy, you can’t but help let out a sigh of familiarity at how it feels, how well you just fit together.

In an instance, the ice melts away. Spring ignites your senses, waking them from the harsh winter as warmth spreads up your veins, through your bloodstream.

Pulling back you see the same warmth in his eyes as they held in the summer, gleaming with a softness only you knew. His jacket around your shoulders is as warm as you remembered, hands tangled and afraid to let go.

“Will you come back? To the dorms?”

“Of course.” You smile, heart full.

The spring has bloomed at last.

[there-must-be-a-lock]

Marked (Part 16)

Dean x Reader

Word Count: 1780

Warnings: None.

A/N: Big thanks to @indecisive20something for the sweet message, which was exactly the push I needed to start on this again. 

I tried not to think about it, because I knew once I started I wouldn’t be able to stop. My heartbeat rattled around in my rib cage in time with the constant loop of What do I want? What do I want? What do I want? running through my head. That was a dangerous question, with answers that twisted around and knotted together and tightened in my chest until I couldn’t breathe.

Work was busy enough that I could manage not to drown in the questions, and then I collapsed into bed and slept like the dead when I got home. So far, so good.

I woke up to a text from Dean.

Still want to get together this afternoon?

Sure. I’m done at 4.

I moved through my day like a robot, like I wasn’t fully present in my own body, everything jerky and automatic. The noise and the smells and the customers trying to get my attention were too much, too loud, interrupting the careful blankness I was clinging to.

I stepped out into the back alley for my fifteen, leaning heavily against the brick wall, and looked up at the grey sky, wishing I could see the stars. My phone vibrated.

I’ll come pick you up, okay?

Okay. See you soon.

I closed my eyes and tried to breathe evenly.

——-

The humid spring air drags at my skin, tugging at my fingers when I stick my hand out the open window and let it ride the pressure of the wind. Dean’s drumming absently on the steering wheel, singing along just a little bit off-key. I turn up the volume. His grin is blinding.

“Let’s just… go somewhere,” I say impulsively, and he’s already nodding.

“Where?”

“I’ve never seen the Pacific.”

The sun is setting as we drive up State Route 1. The light catches pink and orange on the tiny ripples of distant waves, bright gold on Dean’s eyelashes, and he looks like he’s glowing when he smiles. I’m not sure I’ll ever get enough of those smiles.

We park somewhere and hop out of the car, kick off our shoes, set them on Baby’s hood and stumble hand in hand toward the shore. The loose sand is warm under our feet, shifting and sliding with each step. I almost trip, but Dean’s got me, safe and sure, tugging me back to upright with one strong hand.

I shriek when the cold surf hits my toes. The water gurgles in and hisses away, steady, endless. The hems of our jeans are soaked already, but we don’t mind.

When the last rays of sun have faded and the salty breeze starts to nip at my bare skin, Dean wraps me in his flannel and we sit on the hood of the car, sharing the last of the road snacks for our own familiar version of a picnic dinner.

I’d joked, earlier, about driving forever, but the truth is that I want to be home. I miss our bed, the soft blankets that smell like Dean, and I miss the library, and I miss Sam, and all the other mundane bits of our life together. So Dean pulls back onto the highway and we head east, and I fall asleep curled in the passenger seat, the next best thing to home.

I love waking up with Dean, the way he holds me in his sleep, pressed firmly to my back with his arm curled protectively around me, his breath tickling the nape of my neck. I take it in for a few minutes, still and silent, until he starts to stir, his thumb stroking over my collarbone and his nose nuzzling my ear. I hear the happy little noise he makes when he remembers we’re both naked, and even though I’m sore and sated from last night, I wiggle back against him, breath catching when he starts to press gentle kisses to the curve of my shoulder.

I roll over lazily, molding myself to his chest, and kiss him properly. He’s smiling against my lips. When I look at him, he’s looking back through half-closed eyes, sleepy and sweet and soft, the Dean that only I get to see. I love him, love him in a way that makes my heart swell and puts stars in my eyes and brings every other stupid cliche to life. I love him so much I can barely breathe sometimes.

Bonham jumps up on the bed by our feet, whining happily. She’s always so excited to start the day that her entire body vibrates with the wagging of her tail. She wriggles in between us, trying to give Dean his morning face-licking, and even though Dean’s grumbling and swatting at her, he’s smiling with such fondness that I giggle.

“For someone who swore he’d never have a dog…” I start, but Bonham lunges at my face instead while Dean laughs.

“Okay, Bonnie, let’s go,” he says, trying his best to sound annoyed. Bonham waits by the door, ears raised, while Dean fumbles with his pants. I admire the muscles in his shoulders as he pulls on a shirt, half-tempted to drag him back into bed and map the freckles with my tongue.

Sam’s got my favorite mug waiting by the time I shuffle into the kitchen, and there’s a fresh pot of coffee, still steaming hot. Cup in hand, I move through the familiar steps of our morning routine, filling Bonham’s water dish and scooping food into her bowl, ducking under Sam’s arm to swipe a piece of bacon from the pile waiting on a paper towel.

When the jangling of dog tags announces Dean’s return, everything’s ready. I slide Dean’s plate across the table and he gives me a sleepy-eyed smile, already reaching for his fork.

“Love you,” he says fervently, when I pass him his coffee.

“Love you more,” I respond, and I kiss his cheek before settling down in my own chair. Sam heaves a long-suffering sigh, but he’s smiling.

“What’s the plan for the day?” Sam asks.

Dean’s too busy shoveling eggs into his mouth to talk, so I answer: “Checking out that venue I told you about. The one by the lake.”

“Can’t we just elope?” Dean says, around a mouthful, and I roll my eyes affectionately.

“Careful, one of these days I’ll get sick of making floral decisions and actually take you up on that,” I tease. Dean’s the one who wants to go traditional, always has been; if it were up to me, we’d have gotten married in the woods the day he proposed, with nobody but the birds and the stream to witness it.

Sure enough, he huffs and makes some excuse about not disappointing my mother, and Sam and I exchange a knowing look across the table.

Dean’s hand finds mine on the table. He squeezes gently, interlacing our fingers, and I pick up my coffee left-handed, reluctant to let go.

I couldn’t care less about the wedding, about flowers or catering, about whether he’ll wear a tux or his rattiest old flannel, but as far as I’m concerned, the rest of our lives can’t come soon enough.

There’s someone calling my name, I realize. It’s distant and faint, echoing, and I feel a flutter of panic in my rib cage. It’s Dean’s voice, and there’s a harsh edge of fear there that cuts through the warmth in my chest. The taste of bacon is fading, giving way to something metallic and choking. Sam and Dean’s faces are dissolving in front of me, blurring and fading, and when I try to squeeze Dean’s hand again it’s not there.

It’s just not there, and I try to hold on, try not to let it slip away, but it’s no good.

——-

Something in my arm was stinging, biting through the confusion, and I blinked down at it, registering a syringe at my feet. Dean’s face in front of me was pale and scared, but as I watched, the terror turned slowly to relief.

“Oh, thank Christ, holy fuck,” he was saying, rubbing a hand over his eyes, and he sat back, shoulders sagging.

“Do you know where you are?” Sam said gently, and I looked around. I recognized the bunker, the main room, but I realized with a sharp chill of fear that I had no memory of getting there. Part of me was still trapped in the dream, still warm and safe and comfortable, and I wanted to close my eyes and go back, bury myself in that world where everything was exactly as it should be.

“You were attacked,” Dean was saying. The heels of his hands were still pressed to his eyes like he couldn’t bear to look at me.

I scanned through a foggy series of memories, coming up with the alleyway, the sound of footsteps, and then nothing.

“By a djinn,” Sam said, and I stared at him silently.

“They feed on humans,” Dean said gruffly. “They poison you, make you see things… when I showed up to meet you, they said you hadn’t come back from your break.”

“You found me?” I asked. My voice was faint and shaking. He nodded.

My head was spinning. I fought back a sudden surge of nausea.

“Those things I saw,” I stammered. They’d seemed so real, so fucking real I would’ve sworn I could feel every callus on Dean’s fingers, and part of me was straining to hear the tip-tapping of paws and the jangle of a dog collar in the hallway.

“They’re mind readers,” Sam said matter-of-factly. “They can see what you want, more than anything, and they make you think you have it while they keep you sedated.”

I closed my eyes and choked back a sob. My cheeks were burning with embarrassment, knowing that Sam and Dean were witnessing this ridiculous display, but the tears wouldn’t stop.

They can see what you want, more than anything...

It had been a fucking hallucination, all of it, the warmth and the comfort and the dog and the ring, but it had felt so real and so right, and I squeezed my eyes shut tight and wished, more than anything, that I could fall back into that stupid domestic fantasy where I’d finally, finally, felt at peace.

The worst part? I didn’t have to ask myself what I wanted, not any more, not when the answer had played out around me, 3D and high-def and undeniable… but now that I knew, I was faced with the sickening realization that what I wanted was impossible.

That perfect blissful quiet life was nothing more than a dream. Reality was still a fucking mess.

.

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Next part is HERE. 

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If you enjoyed this, please reblog or leave a note HERE. 

[diveronarpg]

In fair Verona, our tale begins with HARRIET D’ANGELO, who is THIRTY-FIVE years old. She is often called HERMIONE and is NEUTRAL. She uses SHE/HER pronouns.

TW: DEATH

When a PRINCESS is born, we all know how the story goes. She grows up in a castle that reaches up to the peaks of Heaven, with all that she desires at the tip of a bejeweled finger and the entirety of the world posed outside a gold-plated window; conquered and left for the taking. The princess embraces it all as she leads a happy, star-streaked childhood – but then she flourishes into cynical adulthood, and happiness becomes nothing more than a myth. Her castle in the skies turns into a prison buried within the depths of the earth, and the world outside her window becomes nothing more than an unattainable dream. And then the rest of her journey fades into a haze of rebellion and rage – because it can’t possibly end any other way, could it? Stories like these are abound in cities like Verona. You can almost see their scripts written over blood-soaked cobblestones and drawn across dusty, boarded up windows. And so, it’s only natural for one to FORESEE this story and claim to know how it unfolds without even sparing its text a glance. But there could be no greater mistake when it comes to the story of Harriet D’Angelo for it is not one that speaks of princesses and dragons and noble heroes. It simply speaks of a girl who loved and lost and LIVED to tell her own tale.

Harriet wasn’t born a princess, and she didn’t grow up in a castle – but she certainly came close. The D’Angelo family was not in the ruling class towards which the likes of the Du Ponts and the Vernons belonged, but it was esteemed in its own right. And so, Harriet received the BLISSFUL upbringing that could be expected for any child born onto the glamorous, gleaming pedestal of aristocracy. She received the greatest education, dressed in the finest silks, and hovered within the brightest social circles. However, while some would fill themselves up with such blessings until they reached the pinnacle of gluttony, Harriet merely took what was enough and looked no further. She possessed an uncanny sense of HUMILITY, despite being born to a mother who hungered for influence and a father who thrived on the opinions of others. Her eyes never sharpened with disdain as she looked up at her superiors, and her nose never wrinkled with disgust as she looked down at her lessers, either. Her sights were limited to what was before her; her heart tethered to the bright, sunlit slice of the world she found with her family – because for all their faults and flaws, they loved each other, and to Harriet, that was more than enough.

Even when that love was tested beyond its bearings, it was still ENOUGH for her, although it took her a tremendous amount of time and patience to reconcile with that belief. After all, no amount of faith could prepare anyone for the prospect of being shackled by the very people through which they sought freedom and safety – and that was exactly what happened on the dreary day when her parents made her an unprecedented, unwanted, offer of betrothal. It was from an established young man who, in her mother’s words, had hymns sung to his name around every corner of the city – but not even that description was quite as appalling as the story he spun. A chance encounter had apparently set him on Harriet’s unwitting path, and indeed, just like that, he wished for her be his. It was at that point that Harriet decidedly shut her ears to the rest of her mother’s honeyed words, eyes brimming with enraged tears and lips clamping shut against the protests that struggled to break free. But then her mother began to speak of how impactful such a marriage would be for their family name, holding Harriet’s hand in a feather-light grip as her lips curved with a smile that sparked stars into her eyes and dug the tenuous doubt into Harriet’s mind that perhaps this was indeed a venture worthy of her SACRIFICE. Her mother would have moved on to ensure her that she was under no obligation to do this – but before her tongue could even roll around the words, Harriet said yes. Even then, she would have still said yes. Even if asked to jump off a precipice and give her life away for her family’s sake, she would have still said yes. LOYALTY was as rigid and firm in her blood as a pillar of steel, and if anything stood true to Harriet, it was that.

Her marriage only lasted a handful of months, and when it finally sputtered away, it left behind a waning, war-torn GHOST of who Harriet had once been. The man she had gifted herself to turned out to be nothing more than a cruel, conniving monster who took away her life and then dared to take away the one thing that would have brought it back; feeding her lies of redemption and change upon the adoption of their child, only to walk away and leave her in the dust mere months later. Her son was the breath of life her heart had starved for, and it was in the wake of his blessed arrival into her life that Harriet found the will and the strength to gather her ashes and RISE from them. Years passed in blessed peace that she and her son joyously shared – right before it was ripped from them; right before he was ripped from her. The twist of fate couldn’t have been more random, or more cruel. Another vicious link had erupted in the chain of war harnessed by undeserving Capulet and Montague hands, and her son fell victim to it. A casualty was the exact wording in the tabloids, but there was no describing the loss or the AGONY that it brought forth. Once again, she crumbled; only this time, Harriet had to learn how to pick herself up. This time, she let herself soak up in the ashes in the hopes they would leave the scar on her heart even a little bit faded by the time she was back on her feet. This time, she taught herself how to stand alone, and how to seize that loneliness and turn it into strength. Now, she has risen, and rather than wait and pray, she has stolen a slice of peace and made it hers. And even with her heart torn in two, even with her happiness incomplete and unfulfilled, she was determined to protect what little of it she’s managed to earn. In Verona, the cost of PEACE is bloody and heavy, but make no mistake; she is willing to PAY it.

ODIN BELLO & MATTHIAS WARREN: Demons. Othello and Malcolm. Two accursed names that have haunted and tormented her from the moment they poked out of the retelling of her son’s death like twin blades. Out of the drawling, monotone slew of the police officer’s words and straight into the core of her gnashing heart. Harriet doesn’t wish to find them, but she knows that her path will inevitably collide with theirs. After all, no two strings of fate ever went untangled when pulled by the hands of tragedy – especially in a city like Verona. But just as her story is not one that centers around a princess-turned-queen, it is not one that is driven by a force of vengeance, either. She doesn’t seek to harm them or punish them—but that doesn’t mean she isn’t seeking to condemn them with every untarnished inch of her heart.

DELILAH BELLO: Reflection. She’s heard the scathing whispers tacked onto Delilah Bello’s name, and the dreary tale that follows in its wake. It’s one that undeniably parallels her own, with the only difference being that Harriet was leashed by the chain of devotion while Delilah was caught in the snare of love. But in the end, is there truly that much of a difference between the two? Harriet isn’t too keen on figuring that out, but she is intrigued by Delilah’s story and the struggle she must find in her ceaseless attempts to regain control of its narrative. Perhaps it will help Harriet regain control of hers. Perhaps it will help her learn that such is a goal that she should have aspired for many years and losses ago.

SANTINO GALLO: Lost soul. The vision of the man struck her heart the moment she laid eyes on him, although at the beginning, it was merely due to the pitiful state in which she found him. Huddled up in a dark alleyway, one hand pressed against his stomach and the other gnarling against the grimy pavement as he retched. Her immediate impression was that he was a drunken fool who wasn’t worth the waste of her time, but despite the thought, something kept Harriet’s feet rooted to the ground. Perhaps it was mistaken judgement or perhaps it was something far more intrinsic than that, but she decided to help him. Took him home, laid him on his couch, brushed his sweat-slicked hair from his forehead with a gentle hand, then bid him farewell with a glass of water and one last wondering glance. Somehow, Santino was able to track her down later on and demanded that she let him repay her for what she did—and strangely enough, she let him. Something about Santino tinges her tongue with the bitter taste of loss; sears her mind with the weighted question of whether or not her son would have wound up on a similar path of condemnation had his life not been cruelly ripped away. She seeks only an answer from Santino, but she might be in for a lot more than she bargained for.

MONA CHEN: Kindred spirit. Mona Chen is the last person she would have expected to befriend in the years following her son’s death. Before then, yes, Harriet would have been compelled to unravel the mysteries enshrouding the renowned Lady of Whispers—but now, the fire of her curiosity has been doused by the icy blades of mourning, and thus she should have avoided Mona at all costs. After all, her son’s precious life was ripped away at the hands of ruling figures such as Mona. But as much as it sometimes feels like a betrayal to that crucial missing piece of her heart, the sentiment only lessens with each day that she spends in Mona’s company. She’s a woman who keeps her cards close to her chest, but in turn, Harriet has no cards of her own—and perhaps that is why Mona’s let her in as much as she has. There is a lot that eludes her about the infamous woman, no matter how close they’ve grown over the years, but that speck of distance, while it may be significant to others, is of no consequence to Harriet. She shares a kinship with Mona that she hasn’t found with anyone else, and that’s all that matters to her.

Harriet is portrayed by JENNA TALACKOVA and was written by JEN. She is currently TAKEN by EMMA K.