#and you all know what custom pattern it would have

[phaideis-chimeras]

Chimeras

Tags: Just silly, fluffy fluff; Castorice & Mydei (platonically); set very shortly after Mydei first joined the Chrysos Heirs

Word count: 1.2k

Notes: I recently discovered the 3.0 livestream chimera animation by Mydei and I've been obsessed with it ever since... I like to think it was Cas who inspired him to start drawing himself and his friends as chimeras like that 🥹 Also in my mind this is how their friendship first started

Castorice is hunched over at a desk, sighing. She never would have agreed to help lady Aglaea with paperwork if she had known just how boring it would be.

She keeps shifting in her seat, as if that's going to make the papers in front of her any more interesting, but it's not helping.

Her thoughts constantly slip away elsewhere and she absentmindedly starts scribbling into her notebook. Making adjustments to her recent design of her very own chimera-sona seems much more entertaining than boring paperwork right now. Maybe she’ll draw for just a little bit to refocus and then she can return to-

"What's this?" A deep voice behind her suddenly asks. Castorice jumps, turning around only to find Mydei standing behind her, glancing over her shoulder. The newest addition to the Chrysos Heirs seems to have a talent for appearing out of nowhere when she least expects it.

She quickly scrambles to try and cover the drawing with her arms, but stops when he gives her a questioning look. She sighs. It's too late, he's already seen it. This is bad.

"Lord Mydei, you startled me," she laughs nervously. "I didn't expect you here. You really snuck up on me."

Mydei tilts his head and gives her a confused look. "I knocked and announced myself when I entered. Are there any Okhema customs for entering a room I don't know about?"

Castorice's face falls a little.

“No, no, you're fine… It seems I just didn't notice. My apologies.”

She was so engulfed in her scribbles that she didn't even hear him. She really shouldn't be slacking off with her work like this, lest she'll get in trouble.

Luckily, Mydei seems much more interested in her drawings than the fact she clearly should be doing paperwork instead.

"This looks cute," he notes, pointing at the drawing peeking out from underneath Castorice's arm. "What is it?"

She sighs in defeat. There's no use in trying to hide it from him, so she removes her arm, letting him view the full page. "It's a chimera," she explains.

Mydei inspects the drawing, slowly nodding. "Is it one from around here? I don't believe I have ever seen that fur pattern before..." He seems to be mentally going through all the chimeras he's met. She'll have no choice but to explain it to him now, otherwise he might actually go looking for the mysterious chimera that looks like this.

Castorice clears her throat and tries to avert her eyes. "It's not one of the chimeras around here," she says, before very quietly adding "It's actually... My chimera-sona." She feels the heat rise into her cheeks. She wants to sink into the ground immediately.

Mydei blinks at her a few times. "What's that?"

There's only few conversation topics more embarrassing than explaining what a chimera-sona is to someone else... But Castorice has brought this upon herself.

"It's when you imagine yourself... As a chimera," she explains. "This... This one is supposed to be me." She's met with silence. Oh, this is horrible. This is one of the first interactions she has with Mydei in private and she can already feel herself messing up.

"I know, it's quite silly-"

"That is brilliant," Mydei cuts in. He glances between the paper and Castorice, his eyes widening. "Its fur has your hair colour!" He seems amazed at the realization. "It really does look like you!"

Castorice let's out an awkward chuckle. "That's very nice of you to say-"

Mydei pulls over a chair and sits down across from her, leaning in just a little to talk to her. "Could you show me how to make my own?"

Castorice looks at him in astonishment. He must be joking, right?

Although, judging by their past interactions, Mydei doesn't seem like the type to make jokes like that. He's usually very direct with what he's saying, not really one for sarcasm.

That makes her feel a little better. At least that means he genuinely likes it, then. Maybe this whole situation isn't as bad as she first thought.

"Well," she says, quickly flipping through her sketchbook until she finds the correct page. "I actually... Tried to draw all of you as chimeras already." She pushes her sketchbook over to him. She usually never lets anyone else look at it, but in this case, it should be okay. Mydei doesn't appear to have any bad intentions.

He takes it and looks at the drawing with amazement. "They really look like everyone... Aglaea with golden horns, Tribbie with a flower..." He lets out a small chuckle. "And that one is clearly the deliverer." He points at the chimera Castorice drew for Phainon with an amused twinkle in his eyes, smiling at it for a few moments before moving on.

"And that one must be me!" He closely inspects the small orange chimera. Castorice hadn't been too sure what to do with Mydei's chimera design yet, so she wasn't sure if he'd be distinguished enough. She had planned to get to know him a little better first before expanding on his design. But judging by the look of amazement on Mydei's face, the design seems to be good enough already.

There's a small smile on his face. "Cute."

Castorice feels an instant sense of relief. "So you like it?"

He looks back up at her. "It looks adorable."

He hesitates for a moment, before adding "Could you teach me how to draw these myself?"

Castorice can't recall ever having seen Mydei show this much enthusiasm about something outside of sparring. She didn't think he'd enjoy something like this at all… But maybe this can serve as a good bonding moment.

She smiles. "Of course, just grab a pen and I'll show you step by step."

He quickly takes one of the nearby pencils and eagerly looks at Castorice, awaiting her instructions.

He seems so excited, Castorice can't help but let out a small giggle.

Mydei gives her a questioning look.

She laughs. "I'm so sorry, lord Mydei... I didn't mean to laugh at you, I just think it's very sweet how excited you are about this. I never expected you to be the type to care about something cute and silly like a chimera-sona."

It's Mydei's turn to be embarrassed now, a tint of red immediately blooming across his cheeks. He clears his throat.

"I just think they look nice... And the chimeras are very cute… I like the idea of imagining what we would look like if we were one of them."

Castorice chuckles. "I know, I understand. It's not a bad thing, really. I just wasn't expecting it, but I think it's great. And I'll be more than happy to teach you.”

To Castorice's surprise, Mydei is quite talented at drawing. He's able to draw not only his, but everyone's chimera-sonas in no time.

“These look amazing, lord Mydei,” she says, taking in all his little scribbles.  “You're really great at this.”

She points at a particularly expressionate version of Tribbie that immediately catches her eye. “This one looks just like lady Tribbie. You captured her perfectly.” She laughs.

Mydei lets out a low chuckle along with her. “This is really fun,” he finally says with a small smile. “Thank you for teaching me.”

Castorice smiles back. “Thank you for allowing me to witness this side of you. I'll gladly draw with you whenever you like.”

[coupleofdays]

Hey Tron fans, do you know about Disc Golf? And do you know that it can be played at night, with the targets lit up by LED lights, and the discs also glowing?

I'm just sayin', this reminds me of something.

[noxcorvid]

help im getting mod ideas beyond my skill level

[dexaroth]

i cant believe the day but i finally got a full tower pc. bought it already built and at a considerable discount of some 320 dollars off. its fucking huge and theres so many things going on inside... i was initially planning on choosing the parts myself but finding the graphics card was so hard and everyone else convinced me to just buy it built and honestly? good. id probably have fucked this up so badly by myself

i cant use it yet bc i took too long to buy the monitor that was also on sale and now its regular price -_- tho i managed to find a discount used one for now. well see how that goes since ill get it tomorrow. i tested it on out living room tv and it had some kaspersky thingy open and like thats so cute. i hope they left some treats in the browsing history for me to search through before i wipe it clean

[mactiir]

in HEMA (aka historical european fencing), much of the sport is done with fencing masks on, so identifying your clubmates during sparring or tourneys is just based on gear. you know, what color their jacket and pants are, what patches they have on it, how is their mask painted. If someone borrows someone else's jacket it's legitimately jarring, like having someone with an entirely different body type and way of moving stealing your friend's face.

Once i read about historical fishermen in the north sea and how they each had a specific hat pattern that their buddies would use to identity them while they were bundled up. It was so much part of their identity that they were often buried wearing those hats. The gear is like your name, a visual identifier of YOU when you do not have a face.

anyway, back when I was buying gear i got my pants in ELECTRIC blue. I figured i was gonna get a black or grey jacket. but HEMA gear is kind of expensive because it's all custom- or handmade, so instead of spending $400 on a new jacket I picked up one secondhand for like 20. Except the only jacket that fit me was bright, SCARLET red. And I already had my expensive, new, custom, BLUE pants. I look like a damn rocket pop or like, a mixed Icee. I was like, shit! I should switch my jacket before i become the rocket pop guy!!!

Long story short, not only am I now the rocket pop guy, the color scheme has bled into my entire wardrobe. Every-fucking-thing I own is red and blue. I look like a french revolutionary. I look like a founding father in a school play. I have become a northern fisherman in my stripey hat. Now, even if I DO get a new jacket, I feel like I GOTTA buy it in red, yk? Otherwise they won't recognize me. Maybe I won't recognize me. I'm the rocket pop guy!!!

[himasgod]

can I request the overblot boys (hcs) with a fem reader who has curly hair. but when she went to twst she didn't get any products (Crowley would NOT give us shit) so she didn't do her curls until she got products and got to do her routine again and actually wear her curls for the first time in NRC

(if u don't do multiple ppl then can I js get Vil with this)

OVERBLOTS X READER

Where you have curly hair and you start to do your curls properly

Vil definitely noticed when your curls weren't defined, but he assumed it was a stylistic choice or a wash-and-go day.

When you walk into the hall with your curls fully revived and styled, he slowly raises an eyebrow.

"Oh? Darling, is that your natural curl pattern?"

When you tell him you finally got your products and could do your routine again, he's intrigued, and a little horrified that you had to go without proper haircare.

"Ugh. Typical of that insufferable man. No understanding of maintenance. None."

Vil goes into mentor mode.

"What's your curl type? 3A? 3C? Do you use heat? What's your drying method?"

He's already sketching a custom hair regimen in his mind.

He pulls a few strings and suddenly you have access to top-tier products from Pomefiore’s exclusive inventory.

You try to refuse, but he won't let you settle for “bargain-bin conditioner.”

"You were already beautiful, but now you're radiant. Your curls frame your face like a crown, and I expect you to treat them as such."

He'll teach you how to preserve them overnight, how to pineapple your hair, and even offer to silk-wrap your pillow if you stay over at Pomefiore.

Jamil has sharp eyes—you know he noticed your hair before, but he didn't comment.

He probably assumed the frizz or undefined curls were just how your hair always looked… until one day you walk into Scarabia with your full routine done, curls defined.

"… You did something different. Not that I was watching—I mean, I wasn't—well, I was, but not like—"

sighs internally

He's flustered.

It's cute.

You explain the whole “no products until now” thing and he’s immediately sympathetic.

"That's rough. Honestly, not surprised Crowley wouldn't think to provide that."

He offers to help you track down specific ingredients or oils if you want to DIY your routine—Scarabia’s got access to spices and natural oils you could definitely use.

He won't admit it directly, but your curls? Devastating to him.

He likes the way they bounce when you laugh and how your silhouette changes in the sunlight.

Occasionally brushes your curls out of your face without saying a word.

Kalim bursts in like: “You look AMAZING today!!”

Jamil mutters under his breath: “She looks amazing every day…”

Riddle is baffled the first time he sees you with your curls.

“You look… different today,” he says, trying to maintain composure.

He is staring. He does not mean to stare. But he is staring.

You explain it's your natural hair texture and that you couldn't do your curly hair routine before now because you didn't have the products.

"That is unacceptable. As a dorm leader, I demand that Crowley provide proper grooming necessities for all students. I'll write him an official complaint."

Once he realizes that this is how your hair looks when it's healthy and cared for, he starts complimenting it—awkwardly, but sweetly.

"Your curls suit you… No, I mean they frame your face well. Er, aesthetically pleasing… That's what I meant."

He secretly memorizes what products you tell like and restores them without you.

Leona notices the change immediately.

One afternoon, you walk into the botanical garden with your curls out and his eyes visibly track you from head to toe.

"Damn. That's what your hair actually looks like?"

He is shook.

He asks if he can touch it. Not in a weird way—he's just genuinely fascinated.

He's never seen curls like yours before and he's very tactile, so he'll run his fingers through a curl and let it bounce back, amused.

"You've been hiding this the whole time? Tch. Waste."

When you tell him you couldn't do your curls because you didn't have products, he gets pissed.

"That damn Crowley. Of course he'd dump a herbivore in here without even the bare minimum."

He will absolutely have stuff delivered from Sunset Savanna (or just swipe from someone's shipment).

Compliments your curls like it's no big deal.

"You look hot. Curls work for you. Keep it that way."

Refuses to admit he's been glancing at you more than usual.

Azul pretends he didn't notice the drastic change, but his reaction gives him away.

"Welcome to the Lou—uh, I mean—Yuu. You look… different. Not bad. I mean—good. You look good. Yes. That."

You explain the situation about not having curly hair products and its entire meaning shifts.

"I see. How inconsiderate of the Headmage not to equip you with proper grooming tools."

Azul offers to source imported hair products for you at a discounted rate. (You say no—he tries again.)

When he realizes how important this is to you, he tries a different approach: "For you, I could offer them for free. Consider it… good PR."

Lowkey develops a huge weakness for your curls.

He will deny it if Floyd teases him about it, but he definitely stars longer than he should when you play with them.

Secretly imagines you in a mermaid form with curls flowing in water like seafoam.

He doesn't even realize how romantic that is until later.

Idia is on his tablet as usual when you walk into Ignihyde, bouncing hair, curls finally in their full glory.

He looks up once—and then goes completely red.

His hair flares up in pink flames and he nearly drops his tablet.

"Is that… a new skin of yours?!"

You explain the curl care thing and the lack of products, and he just stares at you, like,

“They let you suffer like, without item drops?? That's current villain behavior.”

He goes into researching curly hair routines and Amazon-equivalents in Twisted Wonderland.

Next thing you know, there's a care package outside your door

Every time you wear your curls out, he turns into a stammering mess who can't look you in the eye.

Worships the curls but cannot verbalize it.

Ortho ends up saying it for him:

"Big Brother says you look great! Especially when your hair spirals like this!"

Malleus is so used to be excluded that when you come with your curls defined and radiant, he thinks it must be some kind of costume he wasn't informed about.

"Child of man… your hair is… glowing today"

You explain it's just your natural curls and that you couldn't do your routine before now because of the lack of products.

"So you had to wait to reveal your true hair form. Hm… I understand. Many dragons shed their scales to grow stronger."

He absolutely romanticizes your curls

“They remind me of the curling mist over Briar Valley’s hills at dawn… Spiraling, elegant~”

He offers to send servants to fetch “whatever oils or enchanted waters” you require.

You try to explain it's just gel and leave-in conditioner, but he insists on going above and beyond.

Touches a curl with curiosity.

“So soft…”

(he says it in awe, not creepily, promise.)

He's not shy about admiring you.

He will walk beside you proudly, staring at your curls as they blow in the wind, a tiny smile playing on his lips.

[zoe-oneesama]

The Kwamis! Some of these came easier than others, but since Angelic Layer has no magic involved, all the kwamis became human~ They won't be very prevalent, they're mostly here to fill in background character roles - shop clerks, MCs Tournament Directors, fans - so they won't have a whole lot of speaking roles (aside from, you know, the MCs who're there to commentate on the fights lol). But I thought I'd give them all a nice nod in the story somewhere.

As expected, Tikki and Plagg are the main MCs. Marinette and Adrien's fights will be going on concurrently so Tikki will be commentating Marinette's fights while Plagg commentates on Adrien's. They'll have the most dialogue of the kwamis, so I do want them to have unique ways of discussing what they're seeing.

Pollen will be working directly for the Bourgeois'. As a VIP with a direct relationship with the international director of Angelic Layer, Chloe has her own private practice layer in her home and Pollen is in charge of it's upkeep and maintenance. She matches Armand the Bulter's levels of competence.

Trixx is a Rena Rouge mega fan. They've been following Alya's blog for as long as they can remember and are mega stoked that Alya moved to their city. When Alya starts to doubt herself, it's Trixx's voice that can be heard cheering her on to not give up.

Nooroo and Duusu are servants in the Agreste Estate. Unknown to Adrien, they are fully aware of his sneaking around to play and the two do what they can to make excuses and deflect Nathalie when Adrien isn't where he's supposed to be. They're rooting him on from the shadows!

Wayzz is the adult son of Marianne and Fu. He brings them to Angelic Layer fights against his will because the two really enjoy them. The two seem to be really invested in Ladybug and Chat Noir's career (and the behind the scenes shenanigans that they secretly spy on).

Longg is Kagami's bodyguard. Like Nooroo and Duusu, they are fully aware of what Kagami is doing behind her mother's back and feigns ignorance when Kagami pulls something..."sneaky" to get to a fight secretly.

Here's where we get into some existing jobs from the show:

Orikko and Kaalki are the "Layer Hot Girls (and boy)". lol I just thought it was funny that Angelic Layer even has them.

Mullo is the sales clerk at the Princess Piffle store (the store where you can buy your Angel and all the accessories). All of them lol. Mullo and her many many sisters who look just like her.

Barkk and Fluff take similar but still different roles (the uniforms are ALMOST the same but there are some tiny differences). So Barkk is the receptionist at the Practice Ring (literally you pay to reserve a mini-layer to practice on) while Fluff is the waitress/cashier at the cafeteria at the Tournament Center.

(and back to making shit up lol)

Daizzi is a nurse where Rose goes to the hospital and she has segmental localized vitiligo. Rose is particularly close to Daizzi since she helps Rose make her donations to the hospital.

Sass is the backstage directory, aka, the guy who makes things run. He has an earpiece that has the same diamond pattern as his pants on it! The anime does show one person who helps backstage, but I wanted to have a little fun with Sass's look and tie in to him being "in charge" of the kwamis.

Ziggy works at Socqueline's family art supply shop, which is frequented by Angelic Layer players who are on a bit of a budget. They love talking with the customers about their angels, though mostly the design part.

Stompp is Ivan's foster mother and Roarr his foster sister (Stompp's bio-daughter). I actually didn't think of what kind of job this outfit would be good for, but I think she'd make a good security guard - usually working at rock concerts, which she bonds with Ivan over, but she's also been hired for Angelic Layer tournaments. Sometimes sore losers get a little...violent.

Roarr falls in love with Juleka's Angel Purple Tigress immediately thanks to her pre-existing love of tigers in general. She's even bold enough to proclaim her love to Juleka herself!

Xuppu is Ondine's sibling and a fan of King Monkey, though they'll go out of their way to make fun of Kim himself. Secretly, they're very invested in Kim's career and get very upset on his behalf when he loses.

[astrolook]

🏠Mundane Natal Astrology: Planets in Houses as Daily Behavior 🛋️

Note: These are all my personal observations and patterns I've noticed over the years. Take what resonates with you more and leave the rest. Lemme know in the comments if it hits home! A single placement or aspect isn't enough to conclude and the whole chart has to be analyzed!

Venus in 1st -> These natives always check the mirror before leaving any room. Can mimic others' tone and body language naturally. Can be photogenic. Would feel “off” if they don’t like their look that day. Usually better treated in public or in customer service than their friends.

Mars in 2nd -> Seriously, these natives works better when they’re a little pissed off or under pressure. They dislike it when people touch them (even their peers/ family) or move their belongings without permission. Can get impatient waiting for paychecks or deliveries. Less likely to share their food with others. Less likely to lend things easily to others. They would rather throw it away.

Sun in 3rd -> Corrects the grammar usage of others. Takes pride in “knowing things” before others like news, facts, trivia, and movies. Repeats jokes louder if no one laughed the first time. Gives people nicknames instantly and uses them like they’ve been friends for years. These natives have at least one go-to story they’ve told a dozen times with perfect delivery. Will correct others' proNunCiaTion under their breath if it’s wrong.

Moon in 4th -> Cooks or cleans when emotionally overwhelmed like resetting their furniture or wardrobe. These natives have playlists they loop hard when they're doing chores. Hate when people sit in their “spot” at home, even if it’s just the end of the couch. They’ll randomly hum the same song a family member was just thinking about or say the same thing at the same time without meaning to.

Saturn in 5th -> These natives avoid karaoke, dancing, or anything that makes them look silly in public. Natives would abandon their hobby if they weren't immediately good at it. Plays to win even in board games. They get visibly annoyed if their friends don't take a game seriously. They won't get along with overly playful people. For example: If they're playing Monopoly with their friends, they make sure people are followin' the rules exactly.

Mercury in 6th -> These natives Google symptoms immediately, even if it's just a headache or stomach pain. They might keep a diary/ notepad to note things down like phone numbers, addresses, etc. These natives are very good at finding small errors/ mistakes others make. They're always the one who catches the professor’s typo or the boss’s small mistake in a document. Has strong opinions about pens, mobile phones, and gadgets. Makes their own cheat sheets just for peace of mind, even when they don’t use them.

Jupiter in 7th -> These natives would give long answers or more than one answer to a simple question or during arguments. They can't stand narrow-minded people or people who are pessimistic. These natives somehow end up talking to strangers in checkout lines or elevators. Overshares if they like someone. More likely to buy expensive gifts or things that are way too big to show their love. One can expect a sink full of dishes after they make a quick meal.

Uranus in 8th -> These natives can get obsessed with documentaries about cults, serial killers, aliens/ UFOs, or bizarre crimes. They use words like, "Not to sound crazy/ weird but....." at least once a week. Out of boredom, these natives would look up people’s net worth, criminal records, or family history just out of curiosity. Would never share their password for streaming, even with their own family, and are less likely to have joint accounts with their spouse. Watches absurd things, UFO stuff, occult documentaries, etc, while eating dinner.

Neptune in 9th -> These natives zone out in classrooms, meetings, etc. These natives can develop a "weird connection" to a place/ country they never visited b4 and would think they had a past life there. For example, someone living in California feels a connection to Egypt. More likely to fall for fake quotes, toxic positivity, MLMs, or inspirational videos when young. Will impulsively sign up for a class or course because the title felt “right,” then drop out within weeks.

Pluto in 10th -> These natives delete or hide old posts, or photos that don’t “match” who they are now. Keeps a tight grip on what personal info people know about them. More likely to keep their phone brightness low in public. More likely to browse incognito, even for normal things. They always sit where they can see the whole room and their backs never face the door. They delete chats/ messages after reading them if they feel unnecessary or too revealing.

Saturn Rx in 11th -> These natives might hesitate to post on social media. Canel plans last-minute. Feels uncomfortable around people who are super loud, overly fun, or touchy in friend settings. Seriously, they will take the long way home just to avoid walking by a group of people they kind of know. They stare at textboxes for long minutes before deciding not to reply at all.

Jupiter Rx in 12th -> These natives hoard screenshots of quotes, threads, or spiritual advice they never look at again. These are the kind of people who start writing a journal, write 3 deep pages, then forget it in a drawer for 6 months. Also, they zone out while doing dishes and imagine writing a book they’ll never start. Would say they’re “not religious” but low-key gets spooked if at night after watching a horror movie or prays to God just in case a ghost shows up.

Uranus Rx in 1st -> These natives adjust their expression in mirrors to see which version looks most “acceptable” for today. They sit in corners or far edges of rooms instinctively. When shopping, these natives avoid busy aisles or wait for people to move instead of squeezing past, as they don’t like being “in the way.” Can repeat outfits even if they have a lot to wear. Buys one random item in bulk “just in case.”

💌For readings, check out my pinned post for pricing! ✨💌🪐

[gghostwriter]

Have Your Cake

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: Spencer notices a change in you that he tries to address Trope: Comfort; Established relationship w.c: 1.8k Trigger warnings: tackles eating disorder and body dysmorphia a/n: this is a really hard topic I personally felt the need to write about (in a way to comfort myself.) Its very personal as I used my past eating disorder here so if its something you’re not comfortable with, please go skip ahead to another fic. Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated! 💗 masterlist

Spencer wrapped the front ends of his coat tighter on his slender body. It did little to no good fending off the cool seasonal air of an October night. His scuffled loafers squeaking from his shuffling feet. 

The line at your favorite bakery was unsurprisingly long on a Tuesday evening. Every night, the shop sells their remaining pastries at a discount To lure innocent commuters, tired from a long day of pushing papers. He usually wasn’t one to give in to the notion of ‘treating yourself’—unless counting out his big spendings on first editions written in its original language.

He gave the cashier a slight smile before listing off his purchase, one slice of their decadent strawberry shortcake and another of their vanilla bean sponge cake—both your favorites. And both an integral part of his perfectly thought of scheme to solve a riddle.

Your mystery.

In simple layman’s terms, they were bribery of some sort.

“Thank you,” he muttered under his breath, side stepping his way out from the throng of customers holding their own trays of pastries and back into the cold October air.

He blamed himself for not noticing the change in patterns early on. His attention otherwise preoccupied by the trauma from his time in prison and the stares that vary from judgement to pity that come from officers outside of the BAU.

No longer was he the shining, new prodigy once hailed to be, now he was just damaged goods. His downfall from grace was an adjustment.

His mind was another matter, all together—could no longer detect subtle shifts in behavior as fast as he used to.

Yes, there was really no one else to blame but himself.

As his long strides covered the way home, the moon shining down on the empty streets, Spencer thought back to the moment when he finally noticed you eating less and less.

———

You pulled down the cuffs of Spencer’s Caltech sweater, leaving only the tips of your fingers peeking through. Everything about it made you self-conscious. How it drapes down your shoulders differently from before. How it wraps around your body, sending shivers down your spine. And how it leaves the lower half of your plush thighs exposed for anyone to see—anyone to judge. 

You hated it.

You hated how hyper aware a single comment from a distant relative made you feel.

**

A voice from a distance called out your name causing you to look around the aisles of grocery and come face to face with an aunt, twice removed from your father’s side. 

“It is you!” She leaned in to kiss your cheek. Her choice of perfume, a sickly sweet artificial scent of oranges, wafting on your nose.

It made you want to gag.

A fake smile donned your face. “Oh, hi Auntie. What a surprise to see you back in Virginia.”

“Oh, I just flew in for my husband’s sister’s birthday. You know how we are, always booked and busy with events,” she waved her hand, the ostentatious diamond ring on her finger catching the light. “I haven’t seen you since you graduated college. You look so different now—more and more like your mother.”

“Thanks, I always did look like her,” you awkwardly laughed.

Her eyes traveled down to your feet and back up again, a tight grin on her face. It made her look vicious, condescending, causing you to catch your breath as she uttered the words that would repeat in your head like a commercial slogan you can’t get away from.

“But you were much prettier when you were thinner—” her eyebrow raised, cataloguing the items in your cart. “Might want to cut down on the carbs a little bit, sweetie.”

She poked a wound inside of you that never seemed to fully heal.

You thought you were better, all those years of talking to your therapist and changing your relationship with food for the better made you believe those dark days were behind you. But those spitting phrases veiled as words of care from a family member amplified the doubts once buried in the recesses of your mind.

“I’ll keep that in mind. It was great seeing you, Auntie.”

**

The jiggling of keys brought you back to the present.

“Love, I’m home!”

You called back from the kitchen, finishing up plating tonight’s dinner—a fresh serving of Chicken Alfredo to share. “In here, Spence!”

With a saccharine smile on his tired but beautiful face, he wrapped his arms around your shoulder for a loving hug. His pillowy lips leaving trails of kisses from your temples, to your nose, to your cheeks, and finally landing on your awaiting lips. 

You giggled at his antics. “I missed you today.”

“I missed you too,” another peck on the lips. “Dinner looks amazing. Thank you for cooking.”

“It’s no problem at all, you know how much I like to cook for you.”

He brought up a mystery package to showcase, eyes tracking every minuscule change on your face. “And I brought us some dessert! Your favorites from the bakery.” 

The smile on your face threatened to drop. “That’s—that’s great!”

———

You felt Spencer’s eyes on you all throughout dinner. One of the disadvantages of dating a man who earns his living by understanding human behavior and its changes—triggers, as he would like to call it, is never having the leisure of keeping a secret.

He means well, you‘d like to believe so, but that didn’t change the fact he knew something was bothering you. 

It made you feel like a riddle he wanted to solve. It made you want to scream and cry.

The only reprieve you could get was within the little confines of your shared bathroom, water beating down your back muffling the sobs that escaped from your tightly pressed lips.

Everything felt too much. 

The devil voices in your head listing off the calories each spoonful contains. The mathematical equation of how long you’d need to exercise to lose every unnecessary bite eaten over dinner. And the facade of keeping everything together—everything perfect.

You picked off the sides of your nails, already raw and starting to bleed. 

Maybe you shouldn’t eat breakfast and lunch tomorrow. Maybe you should walk the 15 minute commute from here to the office. It would take 30 minutes but that’s additional exerc—

“Love, is everything alright?” Spencer asked behind the locked bathroom door. 

You turned, turning off the shower, before hurriedly toweling off the droplets all over your hair and body. “Yes, I’m—I’m almost done!”

Swiveling around the dry area, you realized you forgot to bring in a change of clothes beyond a clean pair of underwear.

You sighed to yourself as you wrapped the towel around your chest. Still feeling uncomfortable and oddly naked even then. 

“Spence, there’s still some hot water left—are you okay?” You ask, having found him sitting on the edge of the bed with a distinct frown on his face. 

He stood up. Hands on your waist, shuffling both your bodies closer to one corner of bedroom.“It’s just—you know how much I deeply care for you, right?”

You slowly answered. “Yes, of course. I deeply care for you too.”

“So I have to ask, are you alright? Really alright?”

“Wha—what do you mean? Of course, I am—I’m completely fine,” you vehemently denied. The lump on your throat making you sound hysterical, even in your ears. If you couldn’t fool yourself, what chances were there that Spencer was fooled—none.

“I’ve noticed you’ve been eating smaller portions lately and you didn’t even take a bite of the cakes I brought home. You’ve also been going to the gym daily, instead of your usual five times a week. And you’ve started wearing my clothes more—not that it’s a problem. I love seeing you in my clothes but you’ve started to prefer baggy silhouettes rather than your usuals. It’s like you’re hiding your body. Are you sure you’re alright? You can tell me anything, I won’t judge.” 

It was the soft tone in his voice mixed with his doe, teary eyes that caused you to break under pressure. Your shoulders shook as sobs that you’ve kept bottled up rose to the surface. It was a wave of emotions that battered through your dam of facade. 

“I hate how I look—I hate that I gained weight,” you cried out. “I hate how a relative pointed it out and how her words won’t leave my mind. I hate it, Spence. I loathe it all—the voices in my head whispering how I should keep track of every meal I eat in a notebook like I did before. Telling me to never go beyond a 800 calories per day, to workout two hours a day twice! It’s just—” you took a deep breath, vision blurring from tears. “—so exhausting and please, make it stop.”

Spencer hugged you tight to his chest, as if wanting to merge you two as one to take away all your pain and sorrow. Your hands creasing his white button down with a grip so tight. 

For a second, it felt liberating to let it all out. But the fleeting emotion had passed, leaving you with only shame from your admittance.

“I’m so sorry you feel that way,” he detangled himself, enough to stare into your eyes. “Love, can I show you something?”

You nodded. He slowly turned you around, back against his chest, to face the full length mirror tucked in the corner. His eyes never leaving yours as his calloused fingers reached up to the tucked ends of the towel wrapped around your body. He tilted his head, asking for your permission to which you slowly nodded.

Your naked body was in full view. Your nails digging onto your palm as you catalogued every minuscule flaw there is—the additional flesh around your stomach and sides and your hips no longer as thin as they were before.

“Do you know what I see?” He softly asked.

You bit your lip before shutting your eyes close, unable to take what was right in front of you. “Me and how I gained weight?”

He placed a kiss on your temple. “No. I see a beautiful adult woman who has curves in all the right places—”

He laid a kiss on your cheek. “I see the love of my life in her full loving glory—”

He kissed the side of your neck. “I see my future wife who loves herself and all the changes that aging and our slowing metabolism entails—”

He placed one last kiss on your shoulder. “—I see you, and I love every piece of you. And I hope you love every part as much as I do.”

Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated!

[writinginatree]

Latenight Confessions

Relationship(s): Xaden Riorson/reader

Summary: A quiet night with your best friend unexpectedly leads to a long overdue heart to heart about the wounds of the past and repressed feelings.

Warnings: Mentions of blood and injury, some angst, I made up some stuff regarding the Tyrrish custom behind Xaden's scars, Iron Flame spoilers. Set pre-canon.

Based on this request.

"Move over," you huff, poking your finger at Xaden's side.

He bats your hand away, not giving you an inch of space. "If I moved over any further, I'd be falling out of bed."

Ugh. That's the problem with these damn beds — they very clearly are not meant for more than one person. You could cry thinking of how big and comfortable your beds back home in Aretia had been, so much better suited for sleepovers. Especially Xaden's — there'd been enough space in it to easily fit not only Xaden and you, but also Bodhi and Garrick on the occasion that all four of you were having a sleepover. All of you are much bigger now than you were back then, of course, but these days it's just Xaden and you, anyway. You would kill to be lying in his bed in Aretia right now.

"Then put your elbow somewhere else," you say, nudging the offending body part with your own. "Feels like you're trying to dig a hole through my ribcage."

Lying on his stomach with a map of the Continent before him, Xaden is bracing his weight on his underarms in a way that has his relic-covered elbow pointed at you like a weapon.

"You were the one who insisted it would be more comfortable to do the planning in bed," he reminds you, but does you the favor of retracting his elbow, poking it into the mattress instead as he props his chin on his hand.

You roll over, throwing an arm across Xaden's back and resting your chin on his shoulder to glance at the map too, though at this point, you've already memorized all possible routes. "It would be, if the bed wasn't so damn narrow. Do you think we'll get bigger ones when we're second-years? I heard they have bigger rooms, at least."

"Probably," he answers distractedly, still focused on the problem of the next dagger delivery. "If we can make it through the rest of this year without being found out. Would you stop trying to stab me with your chin?"

"Sorry."

You turn your head so your cheek lies flat against his shoulder blade instead, and close your eyes. If you aren't careful, you'll fall asleep like this; it's getting late, and Xaden is so warm and comfortable. Your fingers absentmindedly trace patterns on his lower back. His shirt has ridden up a little, his bare skin even softer and warmer under your hand. You slide it higher up his back — your hands are always a little cold, and despite how he likes to complain about it, you know Xaden doesn't really mind you warming them on him.

But when you feel the scars beneath your fingers, you freeze.

They're thin, barely raised — if you didn't know they're there, you probably couldn't even feel them. But you know. Oh, how you know. You will never forget the day he got them, will carry the guilt of what they'd forced you to do for the rest of your life. That day had left scars on both of you, though only Xaden's are physical, partially disguised by the relic Sgaeyl had gifted him, but still visible to anyone who knows to look. Your own only exist on the inside, a matching scar to marr your soul for every one etched into your beloved best friend's back.

It's a miracle that after everything, the both of you are still as close as you'd been as children. The apostasy and everything it made you do irrevocably changed both of you, but somehow, your friendship had prevailed. If anything, you're closer than ever now that you're finally reunited after the near-unbearable years in separate foster homes.

Things are the same between you as they had always been, but at the same time, they aren't. You're both older, harder, weighed down by responsibility. Gone are the days of chasing through the mountains surrounding Aretia on horseback, of stealing cake from the kitchens and huddling in Riorson House's library on rainy days until the scribe in charge chased you out for leaving chocolate smudges on the precious books. Now, it's dragons you ride, venin-killing daggers you steal, and the potential consequences of getting caught are no longer a mere scolding or being grounded, but death. The love you feel for Xaden — going far beyond platonic affection — had already been blossoming before his father's rebellion tore you apart, but the guilt mixing with it is another of the many subtle differences to before.

Xaden shifts slightly, like he felt you stiffen and wants to look at you over his shoulder to say something, but then seems to think better of it. The two of you never speak of his scars, of what happened that day. Every time you skirt the topic, guilt clogs your throat and prevents you from saying everything you so desperately want him to know.

You force your body to relax, and gently trace your finger up and down the scar it rests on.

The placement of each cut is so ingrained in you that you don't even have to see Xaden's back to know which one this is and who it represents. Every name is burned into your memory as permanently as the scars on Xaden's skin. The marked one he had taken responsibility of with this particular scar is dead, shoved off the parapet half a year ago. You never actually met him, can't even put a face to the name. Maybe that's for the better. The knowledge of every marked one lost hurts enough as it is, and knowing them personally only makes it worse. Terror seizes you every time you think of the marked ones you already lost this year, and of all the others that will follow you into this death trap of a school next year, and the year after, and the one after that and—

You turn your head, pressing your face deeper into Xaden's shirt and inhaling the comfort of his scent. Don't think about it. You cannot let yourself think about all those innocent lives, can't let yourself question how many — if any — of you will make it out of Basgiath alive. You have a weapons drop to plan, that's what you should focus on.

"When are we sneaking down to the forge again?" you ask, Xaden's shoulder muffling the words so they're barely intelligible.

Though each of you has a small bag of daggers stashed away already, it's not enough for a full shipment. You need to take as many as you can without leadership's notice, or it won't be worth the risk of the long flight.

"I was thinking we should wait for the weekend," Xaden answers, leaving the sentence hanging in a way that tells you he'll welcome your input if you have any concerns or better suggestions.

"Sounds good."

Minutes pass in comfortable silence as he continues to pore over the map. You're about to doze off when Xaden groans, rubbing a hand over his face in frustration.

"That meeting place is shit," he curses. "No matter what route we take, we'll have to fly fucking slalom to avoid all the outposts on the way."

You lift your head. "Can't you tell them to meet us somewhere else? I don't see why we should always let them decide these things."

"Because they're the ones out there on the front, and know where we can meet without Navarrian patrols coming across us."

"Still. They're making things difficult for us on purpose, and you know it, too. They want our help, not the other way around, so why are we letting them act all high and mighty?"

"You know it's not that easy," Xaden says, twisting his neck to glance back at you. "This alliance is more fragile than ever now that I've called off the arrangement with Cat."

You grimace at the mention of the Poromish heiress. If there has ever been a more unpleasant person, you haven't met them. Words can't describe how relieved you were when Xaden decided to call off the betrothal his father had arranged — and not purely out of selfish reasons. While you definitely prefer having your best friend to yourself, his own mental health was the more important concern. It would not have been good for him being stuck with someone like that, someone he neither likes nor gets along with, who only sees him as a trophy because of a title he no longer holds.

"Which you had every right to do," you remind him. Really, Tecarus had done you a favor by refusing to hand over that luminary, finally giving Xaden an excuse to get out of the betrothal he never wanted, without feeling guilty for the problems his refusal would cause. "And I repeat: They need us, not the other way around. I'm not saying they should grovel and beg for our help, but is it really too much to ask for that they be a little more accommodating about when and where we meet to deliver the daggers they want?"

Xaden folds his arms, resting his head on top of them. "Politics just are nonsensical like that," he grumbles into the mattress. "What are you suggesting we do about it?"

It's your turn to groan. "I don't know! You know I'm no good at politics and all that diplomatic shit. That's your field of expertise."

The sound he makes in response is half scoff, half laugh. "We're both terrible at this."

"True," you admit. "But we make up for it with enthusiasm."

At that, he barks a laugh, brief but real, and you allow yourself a small smile of victory. It's much too seldom that you get to hear him genuinely laugh these days.

"Is that what we're calling it now? Enthusiasm?" The amusement lingers in his tone.

"Well, what would you call it?"

"Determination? Ruthlessness? The will to survive?"

"We're doing more than survive," you say. "If that were all, we wouldn't be out there smuggling those daggers past the border."

What you're doing isn't exactly the peak of self-preservation. You might very well end up getting caught and executed like your parents, but it's worth the risk to carry on their legacy.

"True." With a sigh, Xaden folds up the map, hangs his arm over the edge of the bed, and throws it to the floor. "Let's go to sleep. We can figure out what to do about the drop-off tomorrow."

He sits up, ignoring your yelp of protest at being dislodged from your comfortable spot on his shoulder. Before you can complain, he pulls off his shirt, carelessly throwing it at his desk chair. The way his muscles flex with the casual movement could make anyone drool, and your brain completely shuts down at the sight. All you can do is stare. It's not like you haven't seen him shirtless before, but being in his bed with him while he's half naked feels decidedly different than seeing him bare-chested while sparring or going for a swim.

Luckily, he doesn't seem to detect anything improper in your gaze, probably interpreting your stare as one of bewilderment. "What? I only sleep with a shirt on in winter."

"It's barely spring," you sputter.

"It's getting warmer."

"So is this what I can expect every night from now until it's autumn again?"

Xaden and you spend the night in each other's room so often that half the quadrant is convinced you're a couple, and the other half thinks you're fucking. While you certainly wouldn't say no to either option, neither is the case. Your sleeping arrangement is strictly platonic — a mere matter of practicality. The fact that both of you suffer from insomnia and sleep better in the other's company aside, it allows you more private time to scheme.

But Amari give you strength — if he's going to be shirtless every night from now on, it's going to take even more effort than before to hide your attraction.

"Yes." His brows knit. "Do you have a problem with that?"

"Well, no—"

"Good. Then scoot over, or I'll lie down on top of you."

Gods, he just had to put that image in your head, didn't he? Even though he certainly didn't mean it like that, you have half a mind to stay where you are, just to see if he makes true on the threat.

You're not sure your heart would survive that, though, so you roll over to lie against the wall, making just enough space for Xaden to squeeze into bed beside you. Clad in a short-sleeved shirt yourself, his bare skin meets your own as your arms press against each other.

It's a relief when Xaden smothers the mage lights, darkness hiding any signs of how flustered you are.

You've barely settled down when something slithers around your waist, winding up and around your shoulders, down around your hips. If you weren't so used to it by now, you might have yelped. The first time it had happened, you'd actually screamed.

Now, you just smile into your pillow. "Xaden," you whisper. "You're doing it again."

"What?"

"Your shadows."

"Shit. I'm sorry."

The shadows retreat, and you almost regret saying anything. But Xaden desperately wants to learn control over his signet as quickly as he can, and pointing out when he wields without meaning to is part of helping him with that.

The scraps of moonlight flowing in through the half-open curtains are just bright enough to make out the flat look Xaden gives you. "I've only had my signet for like a month, Y/N. I can't control it yet."

"I don't mind," you say. In fact, you quite like being wrapped in his shadows; it makes you feel secure somehow. "Though I gotta admit I am curious. Why does that always happen?"

"I know, that's not what I meant. I'm just wondering why the shadows always do this. I get the whole shadows rising and writhing around when you're agitated-thing, but when they wrap around me like this there never seems to be any trigger, and I've never seen it happen with anyone else."

Xaden is silent for so long you think he's not going to answer. Finally he says, "You're important to me. I think... I think the magic can sense that. I think it wants to protect you."

"Aww," you coo, "so your shadows like me! I like you too, shadows."

Xaden rolls his eyes. "Can you not? They aren't alive or anything. More like... an extension of me. They're drawn to you because I'm—"

He abruptly falls silent, like he said more than he meant to.

"Because you're what?"

"Nothing. Go to sleep."

Xaden turns, putting his back to you — his bare back, the covers only pulled up to his waist. Even though it's too dark to really make out the scars, you can't help but stare at where you know they're scattered across the expanse of his skin. Without thinking, you lift a trembling hand, pressing your palm flat over the scar right between his shoulder blades — the scar that represents you, cut there by your own hand.

You remember the horror of carving it into his skin like it was yesterday; how the general had rattled down name after name with no emotion, no pity. When she reached your name on her list, there had been no acknowledgement of the fact that it was your own life Xaden was to take responsibility for next, only that cold stare, a silent order to keep going and make the next cut. You weren't so foolish to think she hadn't realized — you might not have been anyone important, not like Xaden, who was taking lead in the face of your parents' failure, but there was no doubt she knew your name.

You never learned why it was that out of all the separatist kids, it had been you she had sent for that day, whether you'd been chosen for the task deliberately or at random. She'd needed a Tyr to do it, someone familiar enough with the custom to perform it, but why you? Had the general known how close you and Xaden were, and sent for you out of malice, knowing how much it would hurt you? Or was it merely because you genuinely were best suited to the task — your father had been one of Fen's most valued advisors, your mother a priestess; as a result, you were more well-versed in customs like this than most other teenagers, and since you had wanted to become a healer, you knew how to best make the cuts and treat them afterwards to minimize the risk of infection.

You prefer to think it had been the latter, if only because you hate to think you gave the general what she wanted when you burst into silent tears after the first cut. Better to belive she hadn't cared, hadn't chosen you as a form of punishment for sins neither you nor Xaden had committed. She couldn't have been entirely heartless, or she wouldn't have made that deal with Xaden when she could have just as easily let you all burn beside your parents.

As cruel as it seemed, that deal had been the only way of survival — not just for you and Xaden, but for all one hundred and seven of the rebellion leaders' children, most of them much younger than yourselves. When your horrified gaze had collided with Xaden's, he merely nodded, stoic and brave even at seventeen, resigned to carry that burden for the rest of you. Both of you knew there was no other choice.

And so you'd done as ordered, kneeling on the cold stone floor behind Xaden, the ritual knife a terrible, sacred weight in your hand. General Sorrengail perched on the edge of her desk with her list of underage traitors to be claimed for the Riders Quadrant, and when she read out the first name on that long, long list, you had willed your hands to stop shaking and took the knife to your best friend's back.

Again and again you lowered the blade to his unblemished skin, willing your voice not to waver as you spoke the ceremonial words with every cut. One hundred and seven times you repeated those sacred Tyrrish words that would burden him with the responsibility for the person represented by each cut, and one hundred and seven times Xaden answered with the traditional reply, each repetition the same except for the names. His voice was tight with pain, but not once did he allow himself to flinch or cry out.

You kept your free hand at the base of his spine, hoping the gesture could provide a fraction of comfort as the endless litany went on and on. The tears you couldn't hold back mixed with the blood trickling down Xaden's back, but you kept the despair from your voice, refusing to upset him with it. This was painful enough for him as it was, much worse than it was for you.

When it was finally done, the general gave you five minutes to bandage Xaden's wounds, and dismissed the both of you without another word. You didn't get any chance to speak to him again before you were all carted off to be fostered with various Navarrian nobles, could only pray the wounds would heal well, that Xaden would be treated decently and granted access to an actual healer wherever he ended up.

Thinking back on it all, tears well in your eyes even now. Reminding yourself that Xaden's wounds have healed just fine, that he is fine and back at your side, you swallow the tears. You press your forehead against Xaden's back, brushing a kiss to the scar he took for you.

Goosebumps rise on his skin, and another shadow manifests, which settles around your waist like an arm holding you close.

Your fingers wander over the scars, appreciating every single one. Here is the one that represents Bodhi, there Garrick and Soleil and Eya, there Xaden's foster brother Liam, whom you can't wait to meet someday. So many lives, so much responsibility weighing on Xaden's shoulders. So much pain, carved there by your own hand.

A single tear escapes your eye, running sideways down your face to drip onto the mattress.

You never even got the chance to apologize for what you'd been forced to do, never got to tell Xaden how sorry you are for the pain he had to endure. Now would be as good a time as any to remedy that, but as usual, the words refuse to come out.

The guilt envelopes you like a shroud, so palpable Xaden seems to sense it.

"It wasn't your fault, you know," he murmurs. "You just did what you had to, for all our sakes."

Gods, he knows you so well, always knows what you want to say and do before you do it. It can be annoying sometimes, but more often it just makes you feel seen — loved — and is incredibly helpful when the words get stuck, like now.

The shadow around your waist pulls you closer, putting your front flush against Xaden's back. You wonder if he wielded subconsciously again, or if it was on purpose this time, but it feels wrong to ask about that during such a vulnerable moment. Instead, you wordlessly drape your arm over his side. Your hand brushes against his, and Xaden clasps it tightly in his.

Pressing another kiss to his scarred back, you manage to whisper, "I just can't forget that it was me who gave these to you. Who hurt you."

"It wasn't your fault," he repeats, and brings your hand to his mouth to kiss your palm — the very palm in which you'd held the blade that cut all those wounds into his back.

Another tear streaks down your face. You already knew it hadn't been your fault, knew Xaden didn't blame you, but actually hearing him say it cracks something open in your emotional defenses, a wound half-healed and festering.

"I'm glad it was you," Xaden confesses in a broken whisper. "I know that's a horrible thing to say, to think, because I know how much it haunts you, but having you there, having you be the one to make those cuts, made it more bearable somehow."

You squeeze his hand, hold him tighter, well aware how hard it is for him to be vulnerable like this, what a monumental proof of his trust in you this conversation is.

"In that case I'm glad I was the one to do it, too," you whisper against his skin, heart aching with all the love you feel for him. "I'm just sorry you were forced to take on that burden at all."

"I would do it again."

"I know."

For a few minutes, the two of you lie in silence. Xaden lets himself be held, and doesn't let go of your hand, either. Your tears dry, something like peace settling into the cracks of your heart. You will never forget that day, probably won't ever be able to think of it without hurting, but knowing your presence made it easier for Xaden to receive those cuts takes the edge off your guilt. You hadn't even realized how very heavily it weighed on you, never realized how much lighter getting if off your chest would make you feel.

"I never thanked you," Xaden says after a while.

"For what?"

If he wants to thank you for performing those cuts, you're going to fucking bite him.

Your tone must have given away your incredulity, because Xaden chuckles. "Don't go biting my head off. I just meant for facing all this together with me. For always being by my side. I couldn't have done all this without you."

"You don't have to thank me for that, silly," you huff, nudging your head against his back. "By your side is where I belong."

Xaden lifts your hand again, this time kissing the back of it. "Yes. It is."

Heat creeps up your cheeks, your traitorous heart speeding up. You tell yourself he didn't mean it like that, even if it sure sounded like it. Wishful thinking, nothing more.

Though now that you think about it... Earlier, when you asked about how strangely attached to you his shadows seem, it almost sounded like he meant to say it was because he felt that way. And the way he said his magic wants to protect you... It doesn't necessarily mean anything, could be totally platonic — but it doesn't feel platonic.

With another squeeze of your hand, Xaden lets go and turns to lie on his back. You stay on your side, resting your head on the pillow of muscles between his shoulder and chest as his arm wraps around you, replacing the shadow around your waist. His bare skin is incredibly warm and soft under your fingers, a feeling you can't get enough of as you trace the lines of his abs.

"What were you going to say earlier, Xaden?" you whisper. Maybe the answer won't be what you're foolishly hoping for, but either way, you want to know.

He takes a deep breath, like he's steeling himself for something, and whispers back even more quietly than you, "That the shadows seem attracted to you because I am."

Your fingers still, splaying flat on his stomach. Holy shit. Xaden is attracted to you. Xaden is attracted to you. Completely stunned by the admission, you realize that though you were hoping for it, you didn't believe it could happen, never thought about what you would do if he did like you that way.

His grip on your waist has tightened, the only indication he might be as nervous to have this conversation as you are.

Slowly, you shift your head to look up at him. Your wide eyes meet his, Xaden's gaze intense and piercing even in the dark.

With his signet, he can probably make out a lot more of your expression than you of his.

You should say something, ask what exactly he means by attracted, just to be sure, or tell him you feel the same. But you're still processing his words, what they might mean. Everything you dreamed of but never thought you could actually get, suddenly a real possibility.

Those perfect lips of his quirk up in a lazy grin. "You want to kiss me so bad right now, don't you?"

Ugh, it's so typical of him to notice that and get cocky, even when he should be squirming as he waits for an answer to his confession. Worse, you can't even bring yourself to be annoyed by it, or pretend he's wrong, because gods, you do want to know what his mouth would feel like on yours, what he tastes like.

"Yes," you breathe. "Have wanted to for years, actually. I just— worried it'd make things awkward between us, since I didn't know how you'd react."

Xaden shakes his head, the grin turning into a gentle smile as he cups your cheek. "You really thought that after everything we've been through together that could drive a wedge between us?"

"Silly, I know. I was just so scared it would change things between us, and I figured you'd probably never feel the same—"

"I've loved you since we were children," Xaden softly interrupts. "I wasn't supposed to, so I never said anything, but I did."

"Oh." Shaking the shock of his words, you smile at Xaden. "We're both idiots, aren't we?"

"Seems like it. And for the record, this will change things." Before you can panic about what he means by that, he elaborates, "I intend to make up for all the time I could have been kissing you already, and the next person who has the audacity to flirt with you is getting their jaw broken."

You chuckle, relief and love flooding you in a cocktail more potent than any drug. "I love you, Xaden. More than words can describe."

"I love you too," Xaden says, nudging your face toward his own.

Then his mouth is on yours, and every coherent thought drains from your head. The taste of minty toothpaste is still heavy on his tongue, his lips impossibly soft. You've dreamed of this for years, but nothing you ever imagined can compare to the reality of kissing him. You're instantly addicted.

He releases you, both of you slightly out of breath, and rests his forehead against yours.

"Mine," he whispers, and this time there can be no doubt the shadows snaking around your limbs are intentional.

"Yours," you whisper back, wrapping your legs around the closer one of his, one hand on his shoulder, the other draped over his waist.

Your smile is so wide your cheeks are already starting to ache. You're half convinced you must have fallen asleep planning the dagger drop-off and this is all a dream. It's just too good to be true. But gods, if this is a dream, you never want to wake up.

Xaden traces his thumb along your bottom lip. "What are you thinking?"

"Just wondering if this is really happening. If it's a dream, I'll be pissed when I wake up."

"Good thing it's not a dream, then," he chuckles. "You're grumpy enough in the mornings as it is."

"Oh, shut it! I bet I'd be considerably less grumpy if you wake me up with a kiss."

With a smirk, Xaden lifts his brows at you. "Is that so? I think I'll have to test that theory."

"Mhh, please do."

[d0rothydraws]

After a night out things get heated and Sylus can't control himself, revealing a new side of him.

content: f!reader, monster cock, porn without plot, public sex, multiple orgasms, Inappropriate use of Evol, after care, just a lot of smut idk

w/c: 3.7k

Ao3: Here

a/n: This took so long i'm so sorry works been wearing me out so much I haven't been able to post much. I hope this satisfies all the monster fuckers that wanted this from my one post.

Tonight had been.. A lot. You and Sylus were at a dinner banquet. Apparently a very important man was hosting the event and Sylus was looking for information about something. You didn’t really know or ask. You don’t really ask many questions these days. Sylus had custom fit you one of the most beautiful dresses you had ever seen. It was made of the softest silk, the neckline was low yet tasteful, showing enough to catch some looks but not enough to feel exposed. The skirt had a high slit that went to the top of your hip, exposing your leg once in a while. As you walked, the long skirt looked like it was flowing around you like water. You wore matching blood red heels that looked like they were carved out of ruby. The light catching them in a mesmerizing way. Your hair was done in a way where it framed your face, pulled in an updo that bounced slightly every time you took a step. And on your neck was a crow pendant embedded with a ruby. 

To say it simply, you looked beautiful. Elegant. 

And Sylus couldn’t keep his eyes, or hands, off of you.

As you walked, his hand was draped around your waist, hand on your hip. Or his hand was on your lower back, or when you sat his hand was on your thigh, fingers drawing patterns that sent a chill down your spine. He looked at you from the corner of his eye, meeting yours once in a while. You almost could feel the hot breath that left him when this happened, exhaling every time as if he was trying to control himself. 

You couldn’t lie, it felt good to see him like this. It wasn’t like he didn’t know what you would look like in the dress, it was custom fit, custom designed just for you. He had seen it on you before. And yet when anyone looked over at you, giving you just the smallest bit of attention, you felt his hand tighten, body pulled closer. Your hip flush against his. You could feel heat radiating from his body.

Part of you wondered if he was going to end up dragging you into the bathroom. A couple times you thought he was considering it, especially as his hand moved to the inside of your thigh halfway through the banquet. His rough fingers trailed higher, brushing against your panties. He leaned over whispering in your ear, his voice thick as honey. 

“You look delicious.” His words sent a shiver through your body as your hand tightened on the fork you were holding. You looked around, everyone was talking about something you didn't understand. Nobody knew what was happening under the table. And in a bold decision, you parted your thighs just a little bit more. Moving your hips to press against the fingers that were tracing your folds through your panties. You heard his breath catch, his hand pausing for only a second, Sylus’ lips returned to your ear. 

“Try not to squirm too much, kitten. I’m not sure how much longer I can hold back.” He said as his fingers dipped under the fabric, calloused fingers grazing the sensitive skin. You took a bite of food to hide a moan, your face red as a shaky breath left your lipsticked lips. You wanted nothing more than to ride his hand. To throw all caution to the wind and thrust your hips against his fingers until you were clenching and twitching around him, begging for more. 

And suddenly, his hand was gone. Your disappointment must have been audible because he chuckled, bringing his finger to his lips. Swiftly he liked them as if he was licking off a stray drop of sauce that fell onto his hand. You caught the look in his eye as his right eye started glowing slightly. Glancing down you seen the red and black tendrils of his power snake its way around your leg. It felt warm and you tried to not shiver or make a sound as you felt the weight of it move between your thighs. Your panties pushed to the side and as a reflex you tried to close your legs. The tendrils pushed your legs back open gently, like a pair of hands and as you felt the warmth against your core, you couldn’t stop yourself from reaching a hand out, putting it on Sylus’ thigh, nails pressing into the thick meat. 

It felt as if it was Sylus himself between your thighs, just a different version. The feeling was like a warm tongue licking at you, lapping up every bit that you provided as you tried your damndest to not moan, or at least, too loud. You never felt anything like this before. You almost forgot you were in public until you heard his voice in your ear again. 

“Quiet, kitten. You’ll get caught.” His voice was low, strained. A rush of adrenaline flooded your veins as you choked back a whine. The energy pushed inside you, curling exactly where you needed it. Licking your sensitive, throbbing clit. Your hand on his thigh tightened, nails digging in more making him give a low groan deep in his throat. 

“Sylus-” You said, trying to be quiet, but the sound was choked out. Your breathing was heavy, face red and eyes were starting to get glossy. “I can’t. P-please, I-” You let out a choked gasp, louder than you wanted as your orgasm rushed through you. You clenched around the thick mass of energy inside you as you panted, blushing so dark that you probably matched your dress. A few people turned to look, eyebrows raised in curiosity as they saw your out of breath expression. 

“We will be taking our leave now.” Sylus said, the energy around your lower half dissolved as if it never happened. Your legs felt numb as you tried to steady your thoughts, your heart pounding and blood rushing. Your body moved on its own as Sylus stood, as if being willed by him to follow. You had no complaints about this, your anticipation was as high as ever to get him alone. His hand was firm on your lower back giving you much needed support as you walked to the car.

The drive home was quiet but the tension was thick. His body was tense as he pulled into the driveway and before you could even open the door, the red-black tendrils of energy embraced you again. Your body was moved by a force you couldn’t fight even if you wanted to. A thrill ran through your body. He had never used his Evol on you like this before. 

You were placed in the middle of the bedroom, Sylus following you through the door as his eye glowed. His hands in his pockets as he looked at you with a hunger you never saw from him before. You let out a slow breath, feeling the energy dissolve into the air as he towered over you, a hand moving to your chin. 

“Sweetie, you almost made me lose control, looking like that in public. It’s dangerous, you know.” He said, fingers trailing your skin as his other hand trailed down the curve of your waist, admiring the figure hidden under the dress he picked out. 

“I guess you could say I had a good stylist.” You said with a half laugh, he chuckled, a low sound that warmed your core. His hand moved behind your neck, fingers making quick work of the tie that held the light dress on your body. With a flick of his fingers, the fabric fell to the floor around your feet. Your hand moved to his chest, trailing up to wrap around his tie. 

The tension broke as you pulled him down into a rough kiss, one of his hands curled in your hair while the other moved to your hip. He guided you as you felt the bed hit the back of your legs, one of his legs coming to rest on the edge of the bed as you fell back. His kiss was hot, hungry. Teeth bite your lip, tongues pushing against each other as your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer. He took your hand from his tie, his fingers wrapping around yours as he pinned it above your head. 

“Do you trust me?” He breathed in your ear as he pulled back, panting softly. You could feel the hardness of his cock against your thigh, straining his pants. You arched your hips up to apply some pressure, making him groan. You knew there was only one answer to his question.  

“Yes.” 

The grip on your hand tightened as it was pushed harder into the soft mattress, his other hand moved to your face bringing your lips to his as he kissed you. Slow, deep. Different from the kiss you just had. You felt hot breath on your cheek as he breathed out through his nose asif he was holding his breath waiting for your answer. In turn, the kiss took your own breath away as you pulled back, your lips slightly red from how he bit your lip as you pulled back. His fingers traced the outline of your lower lip as his eyes stared down at you, red orbs swirling.

“Darling,” His voice made a low sound as his eyes looked into you. A serious look that brought you back to reality for a moment. He didn’t give you that look often.  “I’m not sure if I'll be able to hold back tonight.” Sylus sounded just as breathless as you felt. “If you need me to stop at any point, tell me. Promise me.” He said, the hand on your cheek gently tracing the skin under his fingers. “I don’t want to hurt you.” Your heart fluttered as you looked up at him. Your cheeks flushed as you took a deep breath, processing his words. 

You two had a safe word. It was well established when you started becoming physical. There was one time you did have to use it, not because of anything horrible but you weren’t in the right mindset for what he had planned that night. So instead of putting yourself through it, knowing that he wouldn’t want you to do that, you said it. He stopped instantly followed by a warm bath, snacks, and your favorite show. 

“I promise.” You breathed, looking into his eyes as he stared down at you. There was something that you couldn’t tell, that you never had seen before. “I trust you, Sylus.” You whispered, bringing your free hand to pull him into a slow kiss that matched the last one. You put your whole soul into that kiss, as if hoping he would understand just how much you cared for him. How without a thought you would put your life in his hands, knowing damn well that he would do the same for you. 

As the kiss continued, the energy began to change. Once soft and gentle was becoming something more. His lips were hot, hungry as he straddled your hips. His clothed cock grinded against your thigh making your body twitch and shiver with need. His hand on your face became rougher, holding your jaw firmly as his kiss devoured you. He pulled away with a soft growl, licking his lips. 

“You’re like a drug to me.” Sylus said as his hands moved to pull at his clothes, buttons unfastening to reveal his chest. Your mouth started to salivate at the sight.  Your hands moved up to help him, guiding your palms over the surface of his skin. Sylus let out a low sound, watching you as you made your way to his belt. He didn’t stop you as you undid the fasten. The sound of metal was loud in the room as it fell from its hold as Sylus pulled the belt and tossed it on the floor. 

His lips were on you again. Hungry, hot. You felt your breath be taken from your lungs as your hands were pinned above your head. His tongue pushing into your mouth, devouring you whole. He pulled away with a low growl, looking down at you, his eyes dark and his lips red from the kiss and the stain of your lipstick. 

“Roll over kitten.” Sylus purred as he let go of your hands and instantly you followed his direction. You felt the slick of your arousal as you moved, making your need even more known to you as you turned. Now with your ass to him, arched as your cheek laid against the pillow. You felt his fingers wrap under the lace of your panties, pulling them down to your knees. You looked over to him, your view obstructed but still managed to match his eyes. 

No words needed to be said, both of you needed the same exact thing and he wasn’t in a mood to tease you, at least not at the moment. His hands worked on his pants, letting them fall to the floor as he stood off of the bed, his boxers following. Your mouth watered, moaning into the pillow at the sight of him. Hard, dripping. His hand wrapped around his cock, pumping slowly as his thumb brushed against the angry red head. You felt your pussy clench as if trying to draw him in. He was beautiful. He didn’t even look human. No human could be this beautiful. 

As he climbed back onto the bed he wasted no time in positioning himself. He kissed your back, one hand on himself to adjust while the other was on your ass, sinking into the soft flesh. He kissed your back again before speaking into your ear, his voice was rough, deep.

“Remember our promise?” He whispered, his voice strained. Reminding you that you would use the safe word if you needed. You felt his tip slide against you, eager for the final confirmation. You nodded into the pillow, shifting your hips as you grinded against him. He groaned, the hand on your ass getting rougher as he held you still. 

He began to push into you slowly. You felt your body stretch to accommodate him, your moan loud as your body felt like electricity was pulsing through your veins at the feeling. Fuck he always felt so good. So thick, so heavy inside you. Your eyes rolled as he bottomed out his hands gently rubbing your back, your ass, the back of your thighs. He waited a moment, his breath strained as he tried to contain himself. But as he started to thrust it was a lost cause. 

You cried out moaning as he pulled out, thrusting back in. Your body shook as you felt him fuck you, his thrusts started to get faster the louder you moaned as if the sound of your cries edged him on, which was very much the case. You tightened around him, gasping as you felt his hand coming to rub against your clit, his rough thumb brushing the sensitive skin. 

“You sound so beautiful darling. Let me hear how you sound as you cum on my cock.” He purred in his ear. His voice sounded.. Different. Deeper somehow, more primal, needy. It drove you wild. You moaned gasping as you moved your body against him, fucking yourself on his cock while he pressed his thumb against you. You felt the sensation take over your body as Sylus hit that spot inside you that made you cry out and see stars. Your orgasm flowed through you as your pussy fluttered and clenched around him, pushing him to the brink as he filled you with his hot cum. 

You caught your breath, your forehead sticky with sweat as you felt your body tremble from the release. Sylus on the other hand, was still inside you. Cock hard, twitching as if he didn't just cum inside you. His hands gripped your hips, his lips moving to your back as he kissed your sweaty skin. You could hear his heart pounding, as fast as ever. 

“I’m not done with you yet, sweetie. That was a warmup.” He said as he started to thrust again, slowly at first. Your body shivered and moaned at the sudden movement, sensitive from your orgasm as he stated to fuck you. You felt his cum inside you, being fucked deeper. You blushed gasping, your head spinning with pleasure. 

As he fucked you, you swore his hands on your hips felt larger. His nails were digging into your skin as if they were talons. Not cutting into you, but more noticeable than before. You gasped, your mouth opening against the pillow, eyes widening as you whimpered. 

“Sylus!” You cried out as you felt your pussy stretch more than before. You felt his cock, which was already big and thick, get even bigger. The girth stretching you out more to the point your legs were shaking. You felt him hit places inside you you didn't even know existed. You felt tears fall from your eyes, sure it hurt a little but god you never felt so good in your life. You felt his tongue lick up your spine, long, thick. His mouth moved to your ear, sharp teeth nipping the skin. You could hear your heart pound. What was he? How did he become… like this? 

“Wow kitten, you took me so well.” Sylus purred. He wasn’t even moving yet and you were a whimpering crying mess. “I bet you love being stretched out on my cock like this, don’t you? I’m not even moving and it feels like you’re about to cum again.” He teased as you felt a rough, larger than normal thumb brush against your clit. “Careful, if you do, you might boost my ego. I could get addicted to this.”

Your head spun as you whimpered and moaned. You couldn’t see him. Even if you tried to turn, he was pressed against your back. But he wasn’t wrong. You were close. So agonizingly close that when he touched his thumb to that damn spot between your legs it was instant. You cried out, clenching around him and he hissed at the feeling. His cock twitched inside you as he felt you cum on his cock from nothing more than just being inside you. Filling you up completely. Stretching you to your limit to the point you weren’t sure if you’d be able to walk later. 

“Good girl. You’ve been such a good girl for me, haven’t you?” Sylus purred into your ear as he started to move. Your eyes widened as you cried out, hands clawing at the bedsheets as you felt how massive he truly had become now that he started moving. Your legs shook as you struggled to keep yourself propped up on your knees. His hands came to grab your hips as you whimpered and moaned mindlessly into the pillow. His hands felt so big, so strong. He had always been strong but this was different, otherworldly. He held you exactly how and where he wanted you as he began to fuck into you. Your body bounced and shook as if you were a ragdoll. 

“That’s it, sweetie, just like that. You’re a perfect little slut for me, aren’t you. Taking anything I give you, no matter how big. You’ll stretch your tight little pussy for me, won’t you?” Sylus growled in your ear and you gasped, eyes rolling back at his words. You couldn’t control the sounds coming from your lips, or the drool that spilled out onto the silk pillowcase. You couldn’t stop the loud needy whimper at the things he said to you. His nails pressed into your soft flesh as he continued to ravish you. 

His thrusts started to get unsteady as he panted, one hand groping your ass as the other curled into your hair, turning your face for him to kiss you. His long tongue forced its way into your mouth, his teeth were sharper but it felt more like fangs now that you could feel him better. You opened your eyes for a second, catching a glimpse to see that he looked normal. As he pulled away and opened his eyes though, you noticed how both eyes were glowing red. It looked like orbs of the red mist of his Evol flowing inside his eyes. It was beautiful. If you weren’t getting your brains fucked out you would have more time to appreciate it. 

The hand returned between your thighs, drawing circles against your sensitive nub. As he felt you twitch and whimper, his hand continued until he pulled another orgasm out of you. Your scream was muffled by the pillow but the sound made him take in a sharp breath. Even when he was like this, the sounds you made affected him more than you could ever know. You felt as his cock twitched, his thrusted uneven before he came inside you. The feeling was different than before. It was thicker and it felt like there was more than usual. You gasped, moaning as you felt him thrust a few more times, the thick globs of cum running down your thighs. 

Slowly, you felt him begin to pull out. Your body was too weak and tired to turn around and look at him but that was the last thing on your mind right now. You didn’t care what form he took. He was still yours. And you were still his. You felt him shift around you, his arms pulling you into his chest as he kissed your head. The smell of him flooded your senses as a sense of calm you never felt before came over you. 

His hands were so gentle as he carefully checked for marks and scratches. You felt a warm cloth on your thighs. A cold bottle of water pressed to your lips. You opened your mouth and the bottle tipped so gently. His hands were still on you, gently touching and caressing you. As you opened your eyes gently you saw the oh so familiar black and red mist surrounding you. Cleaning you, giving you water. You felt a kiss on the top of your head as Sylus pulled you closer. 

“Relax, kitten. You’ll need to recover. I’ll take care of everything.”

~•~•~•~

some people on my post asked to be tagged or really seemed to want this so here u guys go i hope you dont mind the tag

@lunacielooo @in-too-deepspace @sefynarose

[marlynnofmany]

Spice in Space

“Of course your food is a biohazard,” Zhee said while the security scanner approved our delivery.

“The label’s just a precaution,” I said. “Pretty sure this is mostly pepper.”

“Right, yes, the food flavoring that gives your meals the flavor of fire.” Zhee tilted his head, bug eyes looking at everything at once while managing to roll sarcastically. “Not a hazard at all.”

“I don’t mean the really spicy kind,” I said as the box slid out of the scanning machine. “Just the regular spices to sprinkle over eggs and whatnot.”

Zhee picked up the box in his pincher arms. “Right, because eating fire-flavored unhatched creatures is a perfectly normal thing to do.”

I laughed and followed him out into the spaceport. “It is where I’m from!”

“Absolute maniacs, all of you,” Zhee declared with a flick of his antennae. “Now where is that food stall? The briefing said it would be tiny.”

“Tiny and close,” I agreed, looking around. Once past the security checkpoint, this place was a riot of booths and pedestrians with an artsy wave pattern on the ceiling that seemed to dampen the sound. It wasn’t as loud as most spaceports I’d been in.

“I see a directory,” Zhee said. “Let’s just check that.”

“Wait, there it is!” I pointed to a little kiosk between full-sized restaurants. It only held enough room for tubs of ingredients, a gigantic hot plate, and the guy currently scraping food around on it with flair. The sign said “Earth Fry.”

“Of course,” Zhee said, moving toward it. “I should have just looked for the fire.”

As we maneuvered through the crowd of Strongarms, Mesmers, and miscellaneous others, the guy tossed the food with his spatula, caught it deftly in a takeout box, and handed it to the customer waiting at the side: another human. No surprise there. By the time we arrived, he was ready to greet us.

“Hello! Can I interest you in some Earth Fry?”

Zhee held up the sealed package. “We have Earth ingredients for you. Apparently they are hazardous.”

“Oh! Yes, thank you! That’ll be the hot sauce and other stuff.” He took the box and found a flat surface to put it on, then accepted the payment tablet I held out for him. “Thanks for being so fast. Somebody got a bit clumsy during the lunch rush and knocked over a few things. Paid for ‘em, but I can’t get all of these local.” He signed for the delivery while I tried to place his accent. Australian?

“Luckily we were just coming from a trade hub,” I said. “This stuff is straight from Earth.”

“Excellent. It’s been a while since I was home, and you can’t beat the real thing for spices.” He handed the tablet back.

“Very true,” I agreed. “Where are you from?”

“Melbourne,” he said while I congratulated myself on guessing right. “Still getting used to how little any of that matters out here. To the average offworlder, Earth is one place with one type of person.”

“And we’re all lunatics who eat poison, right?” I agreed with a sly glance at Zhee.

He spread his pinchers. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

“Hey now, the garlic is only poisonous to some creatures from Earth,” the guy said, pointing to an airtight tub. “And the onions. If you want the real toxins, the alcohol stores are that way.”

Zhee looked at the ceiling. “It’s like you all have a death wish. Or take pleasure in hurting yourselves.”

“Some of the pain tastes good?” I said with a wave toward the hot sauces.

At the same time, the guy said, “There’s a reason they call us space orcs.”

I laughed. “Do they still? I wouldn’t think enough people even know what an orc is.”

To my surprise, Zhee recited, “Mythological creature from your planet, famed for strength, durability, and lack of foresight. Rumors do go around.”

“I suppose that’s one way to put it,” I said.

“Nobody thinks that’s funnier than my family,” said the Australian. “I get no end of jokes about it. Especially from my mom’s side — she’s from the US, and thinks we all say ‘space’ funny.”

“Does she?” I asked. “Interesting word to focus on.”

“Right? She insists that it sounds like ‘spice,’ and I just don’t see what she’s on about. But!” He held up a finger and fiddled with his collar. “That did lead to my favorite shirt.” With a dramatic sweep of his overshirt, he bared a bright red T-shirt that said “Spice Orc.”

I burst out laughing. “That’s fantastic!”

“Mom was pretty proud of herself for this one,” he said. “Gave it to me for my last birthday.”

Zhee declared, “Appropriate. Entirely in character for your species.”

“And we even brought you spice!” I laughed.

“That you did!” he said, resettling his clothes. “Care to try some? The shredded beef dish is particularly tasty.”

I looked at Zhee, then turned back without waiting for a response. “We’ve got a couple minutes. I’d love some. With extra garlic, please!”

“Coming right up!” He spun his tongs like a gunfighter, and began tossing ingredients onto the hot plate where they sizzled madly.

Zhee just grumbled and looked put-upon, but didn’t object. I planned to make a big deal of enjoying the tasty fire-and-poison meal on our walk back to the ship.

~~~

These are the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book.

Shared early on Patreon! There’s even a free tier to get them on the same day as the rest of the world.

The sequel novel is in progress (and will include characters from these stories. I hadn’t thought all of them up when I wrote the first book, but they’re too much fun to leave out of the second).

[matsunoluvr]

୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ how I think the boys from love and deepspace would give a first kiss :3

warnings: suggestive content (obviously?), writing might be out of character, spoilers in general, i get carried away explaining everything because i'm afraid of being accused of mischaracterisation

[story spoiler] first kiss = first kiss where mc is a hunter/the timeline in game

authors notes: i have favourites and it will show CLEARLY in my writing… sorry (not sorry no1 rafayel stan) and i am a yapper

characters: rafayel, xavier, zayne and sylus

link to my master list here!!

more below the cut :3

sorry rafayel... but i feel like he's the most unskilled at kisses because - hear me out - you're his very first kiss. lemurians as a species seem to value bonds and loyalty, and as the literal sea god he wasn't able to nor wanted to just hook up or mess around - he's looking for devotion!!!

(okay, we ignore the kiss in forgotten sea myth story because like come on there was literally no romance mc was drowning)

definitely waits a while before kissing you, rayafel really takes his time to fall into place. after all, he needs to make sure his beloved bride/groom is well and truly his!!!

the type to wait for the ‘right moment’ - but doesn’t force or stage it ykwim? like the time comes naturally - e.g. watching the sunset, or you’re leaning close to him whilst he’s painting

he’s a romantic 100% like there’s a reason his 'floral promise' card was (imo) way fluffier compared to the others - like xavier's was tender-ish but rafayel was fucking melting

he's a sweet talker I just know it.

that charm he uses on his clients? he doesn't want to nor will he manipulate you with it but you know he's going to ramp up the charm to tease you a little

definitely knows his effect on you and uses it to his full advantage (cough cough fiery undercurrents secret times) like whispering in your ear, making excuses to touch you or get close to you

(i think he’d be more 'traditional' because of lemurian customs - the whole bonding + [forgotten sea spoilers] the sea god ceremony where the mc must devote themselves to rafayel displaying a strong level of devotion)

SUCH A GENTLE KISSER OMG like compared to his almost bratty and childish personality he’s a gentleman when it comes to kisses (also because he's kind of unsure what to do...)

the type to tuck strand of your hair behind your ear, fiddle with it a little maybe twirl it around his finger before trailing a finger along your jawline... i can see him like massaging your ear too? idk how to describe it he's a handsy man

first kiss was definitely more sweet than passionate ugawhriulgs he's such a cutie

right after the first kiss i think he’d be pretty affectionate, rather than bratty/tsundere since for him to kiss someone i believe he’d really need to love them (and therefore is more open to being vulnerable)

affectionate as in saying something cheesy probably, commenting on how you tasted or another one of his poetic, artistic quotes (dw raf we love it)

wouldn't be satisfied with just one after that, i can see him going in for a more passionate second and even a third (i mean look at his 'floral promise' memory OR 'fiery undercurrents') in the same few minutes

these follow up kisses would probably be longer and way less chaste, hands moving from tilting your chin up to your waist ahahahahahuwfa

you'd have to show him the appeal of tongue if that's your thing because he's seen it before but never really saw what was nice about it

"But... you're just drinking each other's saliva?" "Rafayel that's hot-"

definitely relived the moment in his head hundreds of times after that night - and you bet your ass he painted a piece inspired from your first kiss with him

any kisses after that i feel like they would follow this default pattern;

if he initiated the kiss i think he’d be more cocky and teasing, especially if he surprised you with one and he sees your flustered face

“Didn’t expect that huh, cutie?”

if you surprised him, however, get ready for typical rafayel childish behaviour, blushing and averting his eyes, covering his mouth with the back of his hand and a pout

“Hey- what was that for!!” Σ（・□・；）

either way rafayel is the worlds silliest man and would cave into literally anything with just a few kisses from you

ALSO KISS HIS COLLAR BONES AND YOU'VE GOT A WHOLE NEW SCENARIO TO UNFOLD

oh i just have a feeling this man is devouring you because puh-LEASEE?? sir we aren't forgetting your 'tender night' card i know that night was anything but tender

xavier is the definition of pent-up desire because this man has been waiting a LONG time and he's not going to be able to hold back very well

(taking heavy inspiration from his '21 days' memory because with his reaction it kind of feels like his first kiss with mc... but tbh i don't know much about xavi)

he's definitely not shy when it comes down to it, yeah he gets flustered if he thinks about it because of course imagining kissing the person he's pined over for centuries is going to fluster the shit out of him but he doesn't shy away form the idea or avoid the topic in conversation

i feel like he'd bring it up casually - like in the 'partner go go' event (aka heartbreaker-chasing-rhythm-game event) he was so insistent on the 'kissing page'

mc was like "apparently you can solve arguments with a kiss" and this mf straight up said "we can argue then" this man is STARVED

i feel like you'd need to initiate the kiss or give him very clear signs you'd be okay with a kiss for it to happen, i don't know why i just feel like he's that type of person

the first kiss is deep despite him trying his best to hold back - you can just feel his desire and longing oozing out of him and he's definitely on fucking cloud nine

xavier's holding your face and stroking his thumb along your cheek and god damn he's good at kissing where the fuck did he learn this from?

the type to break the kiss and then fucking bulldoze into the next one and my god his restraints have broken and he's actually kissing you as if it's the last thing he's able to do on earth

100% a tongue user he's biting at your bottom lip before slipping it in the sly minx

after the kiss he's more flustered than he expected to be - kissing the love of his life (literally) sends him into a flurry of emotions he's never really experienced before

given how possessive xavier is i wouldn't be surprised if halfway through making out he managed to leave a hickey or two in very. visible. places.

he isn't even pretending to feel guilty in the slightest, a smug grin as he shrugs out a half-assed apology.

"Sorry, I guess you'll have to try hide it. Or don't, that would be easier."

if you leave any marks on him he's not leaving you along that night. forget sleeping you two are recreating 'tender night' ALL night.

but seriously, if you leave hickeys over his neck (his canonical sensitive area and where he feels vulnerable) he's going to go crazy because what do you mean you want everyone to know he's yours??? what do you mean you want him as much as he wants you??

tldr; xavier is unusually talented with his mouth and is desperate to prove it to you.

i accidentally wrote way more for xavier than i expected i even cut out some bits holy crap maybe i’m more into xavi than i thought

oh no... zayne you beautiful man i am so sorry... (here comes the one character i have no idea how to characterise + no clue about his lore zayne fans pls bear with me)

okay - zayne looks like a gentleman and i'm sure he very much is even in intimate moments, but i cannot get rid of the idea that his first kiss w you was lowk spicyyyyy

like OH MY GOD I JUST WATCHED SNOWY SERENITY RN I FUCKIGN KNEW IT

that man was pouncing on you in a hospital bed, dishevelled, and kissing you deep my god like the type of kiss that literally as you forgetting where you are

i feel like zayne would be the one to initiate the kiss, again no idea why maybe i'm falling into the dominant zayne agenda

you're probably surprised when he kisses you because he's usually so composed, the 'cold unfeeling' dr zayne - then suddenly he's panting and pushing himself on top of you (consensually of course), pinning you down and going to town.

when he kisses you i don't think he's much of a lip biter, but if you bite his lips or lick at him or anything he's not opposed, as long as your lips are on his and vice versa

after the first kiss he's going straight into another one, his patience has thinned to the point of snapping and now he just needs you.

his hands what does he do with his hands? i'm thinking the typical otome face hold, gentle grasp juxtaposing his fervent kisses LOL

now, why does he kiss you?? how does this all build up? unfortunately all i can think of to match this scenario is something angsty or something along the lines of zayne has fucking had it and all he wants is you

"I need you... please."

this is the type of kiss where he wants to drown in you, breathe you in and just smother his being into yours to forget and erase whatever else is happening/happened

if he's kissing you and pinning you down and you bring up your hand to interlock fingers with him - your warm hands against his cool hands? wow his kissing is all of a sudden even more passionate.

after the little make out session he's going to go all mushy on you, physical affection of an embrace something uncharacteristic of him to match his dishevelled state

in kisses after the first i like the idea that he checks your pulse mid make-out and just silently smirks/chuckles when he notices it's faster and more erratic than usual

"Why are you nervous, this isn't our first time."

he also has this sneaky habit of whispering incredibly close to your ear, the reason why i choose to point this out it because i feel like sometimes he uses his evol to his advantage to like, breathe out cool air on your neck/ear and likes to watch you shiver

the ultimate dominant figure if you try to kiss him first and take control he somehow manages to overcome you and take the lead without using his strength, just good ol' sweet talking and technique

congratulations, you managed to snatch a kiss from the renown leader sylus!!!

i can see why people would think he's promiscuous or a fuck-boy because honestly i see it, but imo just because he is more flirtatious, assertive and... responsive (try tapping his... crotch... in the café LOL) does NOT = play boy

to me it just shows that - unlike the other LIs - sylus is just more forward with his approach, he has that devil-may-care like feel to him ykwim?

"Do I like you? What type of question is that, isn't it obvious? Or do I need to show you?" is much different to "Hey baby girl lemme rock your world tnite xx"

but just because he's got a 'fuck-all' attitude doesn't mean he fucks around with random people, he's 1. got standards and 2. living in the n109 zone?? do you THINK he can afford to let random people close just to fuck???

that being said i don't think he's a kiss virgin, just very selective and honest man when it comes to love and physical intimacy

now, when i say he isn't a fuckboy, that doesn't mean i don't believe in cocky-smugass-know-it-all sylus - he kisses well. and with PASSION. and probably the worst part is that he knows it.

first kiss with sylus? i can't imagine him making a large fuss about it like rafayel, nor it having to be some "i'm-at-deaths-door-and-need-to-kiss-you-atleast-once" situation like zayne, but no matter where or when you two share a first kiss he is making sure you remember

that being said, there was definitely a LOT of romantic and sexual tension between you and sylus for at least weeks before the kiss, i mean the air was thick with suggestive glances and denial

i think you two'd have to already be in close proximity which is very easy to achieve with sylus (touchiest man award goes to him) for the first kiss to initiate

he's grabbing your waist, or your face, makings sure your eyes are on. him. as you two kiss. watching with delight no matter what reactions you have, he admires you through surprised and flustered to confident and defiant

rather than a tender first kiss it’s probably a full blown make out session, just desire and lust flooding out of the both of you after having built up for over a month.

assertive does not mean he's going to force a kiss on you to clear this up, more that he likes to take the initiative and take control as you two kiss <3

yeah he's into biting (wow what a big shock) - likes biting your ear, or neck, or bottom lip, one time he tried nipping at your tongue too.

you can bite him back, he likes it.

"Hah, looks like someone is baring their claws tonight..." he’s really into that whole cat thing huh.

what does mr sylus do with his hands? waist, hips, ass, around your neck, pulling your face in by squeezing your cheeks, fingers threading through the hair on the back of your head, you name it he does it. again, i think sylus is a touchy man.

he doesn't mind if you try to take control, just dont expect to be successful. different to zayne - as in he will overcome your control with his evol and strength…

inappropriate use of his evol has occurred (he ‘tied’ you up and made out with you (CONSENSUALLY))

after his affinity 15 (i think) memory i can just tell he’s freaky with it bruhhh so yeah handcuffs are probably something he indulges in

if you’re persistent or physically overcome sylus you might get rewarded with a resigned, more submissive sylus

the idea or sight of someone man handling/overcoming his strength really sets him off.. i mean have you seen “no defence zone”?? but you’re really going to need to work to get him to this stage, and he’s going to have to love you

“No one’s ever seen me like this, lying on my back and begging for you.”

secretly finds out through you that he enjoys being dominated (BRAT SYLUS FOR 2024) so climb on top of him and kiss him until he’s blushing and panting hahahahahaha

tldr: sylus isn’t a fuck-boy but he sure kisses like one

AN; as an ao3 writer may say, no beta we die like caleb i wrote half of this when i was half asleep LMAOO anyways i hope this was okay please dont attack me BYE

[yvvxs]

Physical Touch...‎ ‎

‎ ‎↪ ft. argenti. arlan. aventurine. blade. boothill. caelus. dan heng & imbibitor lunae. dr ratio. gallagher. gepard. jing yuan. luka. luocha. sampo. sunday. welt.

Argenti brushing your hair, making sure to gently undo any knots found in it. He would help you clean up any dirt from your skin and clothes, making sure you looked even more beautiful than you already were. You were his beloved, and he'd make sure to make you feel like it was so all the time through soft moments just like these.

Being in the infirmary with Arlan, who bandages up any wounds you got. He places soft kisses over small band-aids or bigger scars, making sure to help you feel better. He wouldn't want to let you hurt any longer than you already did. He promises that it'll be all better with him by your side.

Aventurine would hold you close to himself as you both roam the casino. Winning every single game he played, as always. Letting every other patron there know that you were the only one allowed to be so close to the luckiest man in the building. No one would be able to catch his heart just as you have with him as he places a kiss on your forehead, silently reminding you with a smile.

In between missions, Blade would hold you close to his chest, wrapping his arms around you and rubbing soothing patterns into your back. Elio hadn't assigned him to the next thing in the script yet, so he still had time to be with you, to give you some attention before he has to set off for whatever dangers he'd be going through next.

Despite not being able to feel much, Boothill gives you so much love. An arm wrapped around your waist, tight hugs which brings you closer to himself. Whenever he feels like he wants to feel your touch, he just nuzzles his face into you, chuckling gently with a smirk on his face. Knowing you're too good for someone like him.

Caelus clinging onto you while the Crew watches a horror movie together in the Astral Express. He yelps at the smallest thing, holding you close to himself for dear life. Despite going through life-threatening things, he still was a little scaredy-cat underneath all of that, your little raccoon boyfriend would never change, not like you'd want him to.

Laying your head on Dan Heng's shoulder as he types out something on the Data Bank after your last mission. All of you were tired from what you had experienced, but he diligently writes more information for everybody. Also, gently caressing Imbibitor Lunae's horns, placing soft kisses on them as his tail wraps around your hips, silently trying to pull you closer to himself.

Bathing with Dr. Ratio, he thoroughly washes your body, touching you in places only he can. The bubbly sensation relaxing the two of you as you clean up together. Enjoying the soft, alone time, just for the both of you. With no other people to pry or disturb either of you.

Gallagher guiding your hands as you two work at the Dreamjolt Hostelry. Making sure to help you find the correct ingredients to serve to your different customers. Handing you something he was previously using, your fingers grazing over one another's and feeling the small and short touches that you two share every now and then.

Sitting in the Silvermane Restricted Zone with Gepard, as he lets you bandage his wounds he got from the battles with the Fragmentum. He wasn't fully invincible, and him getting hurt would be inevitable. He knew that his job was dangerous, but letting you at least know he was okay, and that you can make him feel better would make himself feel better.

Jing Yuan letting you sit on his lap as he works. His work was usually boring most of the time, but when you were there with him, it made it so much more interesting. He nuzzled into your neck every now and then, smirking against your skin as he inhaled your scent. He could never get sick of these times with you, and no one could take you away from him, not even the Master Diviner.

Cuddles with Luka after he wins his last match at the Fight Club. It's his little reward from you that he always looked forward to. Even if he did lose, which we all know would barely actually happen, he would always be spoiled like this. He would always love having your warmth and comfort after hard work put into his fights.

Luocha's fingers intertwined with yours as the two of you go through the Luofu together. He wasn't anyone else other than your lover when he was with you, and he'd make sure you know it. Kisses on the back of your hand or playing with your hair when the two of you were alone, or even when there was a man secretly watching from behind the scenes.

Holding Sampo's face in your hands as you gently scold him for conning another person. He just wanted to get money for you, but that didn't mean he had to get it through means like this. You remind him not to do that again, though we both know that he would do it again, all for you.

You were the only one who was loved enough by Sunday to be able to touch his soft wings, other than his own sister. He would let you clean them up, touch them up and even preen any loose feathers that stuck out from the rest. Normally, he'd do it himself, but if it made you happy to help, then he'd let you do what you want.

Laying down with Welt on the couch in the Astral Express' Parlor Car, cuddling with him after a long day of missions at your current stop. He would brush his fingers through your hair. Your head on his chest, his other arm wrapped loosely around your body. Resting for the next day that would be full of exciting adventures for the two of you.

Masterlist || Do not repost nor feed to AI. Reblogs & Comments are much appreciated.

[mayakern]

I honestly don’t know how to write this; I have spent all week attempting to figure out what to say.

Last Monday I was informed by our factory that our merchandiser and direct point of contact with the factory passed away unexpectedly two weeks ago. She was someone who I have spent a great deal of time speaking to ever since we switched factories two years ago. She helped us realize designs for new products, sent us samples of garments extremely quickly and kept track of all our orders. She went to bat for us if something went wrong with our print shop or if I was unhappy with how a garment pattern was interpreted by their team. As their first American client and a brand that focuses on size inclusion, something that is not typical of their other clients, she handled a lot of crazy requests from us without blinking and she was dedicated to ensuring that both us and our customers were happy. We talked nearly every day, and though it was work related she was one of the kindest people I have had the pleasure interacting with daily.

She was beyond dedicated to her work and to working with us. Turkey has an 11-hour time difference from me in California, which means when she was emailing me at 2pm in the afternoon it was 1am there. You can sure bet that I extended her the same courtesy and tried my best to answer her emails at night too, even when I would rather just be sleeping.

It was also clear just how much she loved her job, and now much she loved you guys. She had been silently watching our social media since we first started working with them. She got just as excited as we did on launch days and would often email me unprompted about how she was glad people were leaving such positive comments and reviews. She read your feedback when no one ever asked her to do that or even expected it of her. She did it because she really, really cared.

Even though she was miles away and we never met in person, she was like a coworker to me and the loss of her is like losing someone on our team.

The Maya Kern team, as a whole, has been dealing with a lot lately. I personally just moved (which took far longer than we expected) and Maya and Devin are gearing up to move back to Minneapolis pretty soon. With the loss of our merchandizer, it has taken the wind out of my sails a little bit. I was trying to push through, even though I am exhausted, and carry out the photo shoot for our new products this weekend, but it has become clear that my body just can’t handle it. My arthritis has finally told me to stop moving, so unfortunately, we are going to have to reschedule the shoot for later on.

We are doing everything we can to make sure our next product drop on the 21st still happens. But as of right now, due to this sudden loss, the garments haven’t even shipped from the factory yet and I am not optimistic that they will clear customs and get checked into the fulfillment center in time for the launch. This means the drop is likely going to be pushed back to December 5th and instead of a full photo shoot, we will probably have to settle for taking quick photos of everyone at home, and likely with our phones. 

We work really hard to deliver not just garments we believe in, but also pictures of said garments on bodies that our customers can relate to, and unfortunately I just do not think that is possible this time. As always, we really appreciate your patience and understanding during what has been a very difficult time for us.

Ash

Chief Operations Officer

[satellite-evans]

right where you left me

Pairing: Max Verstappen x ex girlfriend!reader

Summary: You're still where Max left you.

Word count: 2.8k+

Warnings: angst, based on the Taylor Swift song

A/N:

Hi everyone, this is the first fic that I’m posting for the folkmore series, I am so excited!!! Can’t wait to hear what you guys think <3

English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, talks, vents, recommendations or just simple questions are always welcome.

Happy reading xxx

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.

The restaurant still smells the same. The warm scent of buttered bread, the faint tang of expensive wine in the air, the subtle undertone of aged wood and candle wax melting into soft pools of gold. It’s been months—years, maybe—since the night Max walked out, yet the place feels untouched, frozen in time. Just like you.

You sit at the same table, your fingers brushing against the linen napkin, tracing invisible patterns on the surface. The same table where his laughter once curled in the air, where his hands would have reached for yours without thinking. Your glass of water remains half-full, just as it was that night. Untouched. Forgotten. A relic of a moment that still lingers in the corners of your mind like an echo you can’t quite silence.

The candlelight flickers, its glow catching the delicate ring you still wear on your right hand—the one he gave you as a promise before he decided promises were too heavy to keep. You twist it absentmindedly, the metal cool against your skin, a contrast to the warmth of memory.

Outside, the city hums with life. Cars glide past, their headlights flashing like distant stars. The murmur of strangers, the clinking of glasses, the occasional burst of laughter—all of it moves forward, untethered to the past. But here, at this table, in this restaurant where time seems to hold its breath, you sit in the hollow space he left behind.

And for the first time in a long while, you wonder if he ever comes here, too. If he ever stops just outside the door, hand hesitating on the handle, breathing in the familiar scent and remembering. Or if, like the promises he made, he’s let it all go.

“Are you ready to order?”

The waiter’s voice pulls you from your trance, gently but firmly, like a hand on your shoulder bringing you back to the present. You blink, your gaze shifting from the flickering candlelight to the young man standing beside your table, his notepad poised, his expression polite but unreadable.

You only shake your head, offering a tight smile. “Not yet,” you murmur, though you already know the answer.

He doesn’t question it. He never does. Maybe by now, he recognizes you—not just as another customer, but as a fixture of this place. The girl who always sits alone. The girl who never changes her order. The girl who lingers too long over a half-full glass of water, as if she’s waiting for it to fill itself. The girl who still waits for someone who isn’t coming back.

Does he wonder? Does he piece together the story in his mind, constructing quiet theories about why you return to the same spot, why your fingers still play absentmindedly with a ring that should’ve lost its meaning by now? Is he used to people like you—the ones who haunt old memories like ghosts who refuse to be laid to rest?

Or does he just think that you’re a girl frozen in time, that time went on for everyone else but that you wouldn’t know?

A girl that just can’t move on.

He nods, stepping away without another word, leaving you alone once more. Alone with the past. Alone with the quiet hum of the restaurant around you, the soft clatter of silverware, the muted conversations that blur together into white noise.

You exhale, glancing toward the empty chair across from you. It remains untouched, just as it was that night. Just as it has been every night since.

You wonder if Max ever thinks about this place. If he ever remembers the way your fingers used to trace lazy patterns over his knuckles while he rambled about race strategy, his voice animated, his eyes alight with passion. If he recalls how you’d bite your lip to keep from laughing when he confidently—yet disastrously—mispronounced the names of the wines on the menu, only to scowl at you in mock offense when you corrected him. If he ever sits in a quiet moment, caught off guard by a passing scent or a familiar song playing in the background, and suddenly, inexplicably, thinks of you.

If he feels even the slightest pang of nostalgia when he hears your name.

If he even knows that you come to this restaurant, even though you felt the most heart crushing pain here.

That he left you no choice but to stay here forever.

Or if he’s forgotten all of it. All of you.

You hadn’t meant to check, but old habits die hard. One second, your mind was wandering, and the next, your fingers were already scrolling, moving with a muscle memory you wished you didn’t have. Before your brain could stop them. Before your heart could brace itself.

And suddenly, there it was, a picture trending on Twitter.

Max Verstappen & Kelly Piquet expecting their first child together!

The words seem to blur for a moment, your vision tunneling, breath catching somewhere in your throat. And then, below the headline, a photo.

You wanted to say that it was irony or even faith that you found out that he was expecting a baby with another woman in the same restaurant where he would whispered sweet words about how he wanted to be father to your children so badly, but you don’t believe in faith anymore. This restaurant was just destined to haunt you forever.

At least he looks happy.

Happier than you remember. Happier than he ever was with you.

Your grip tightens on your phone, but your body remains still, frozen in place. The sounds of the restaurant fade into static, the clinking glasses and quiet laughter around you suddenly feeling like background noise to a scene you no longer belong in.

You exhale slowly, pressing your lips together as you force yourself to look away from the screen, as if that might erase the image from your mind. As if that might make it hurt less.

But it doesn’t.

The ring on your finger feels heavier. It presses into your skin like an anchor, pulling you back to a past you can’t escape, a past you’re still tethered to. You blink rapidly at the screen, hoping, praying, that the words will change. That maybe this is some cruel joke, some mistake, but they don’t. The image doesn’t blur. It’s real. It’s him.

Another picture.

Christmas. They’re spending it together.

A perfect family. The kind you used to imagine when you’d sit together, planning for the future, talking about how one day, maybe, you’d have a house full of children and laughter.

The cruelest part is how ordinary it all looks. A picture-perfect moment, the kind you once dreamed of having with him, now shared with someone else. A life you are no longer a part of.

It’s funny, really. How time moves forward for everyone but you. How the world shifts, the seasons change, new memories replace the old ones. Love finds new homes. But you? You’re still here, frozen in place, gathering dust like an abandoned photograph tucked away in a forgotten drawer, one that’s too painful to even look at anymore.

You can’t help yourself but eread the headline over and over again and look at the pictures of them spending Christmas together, as if the repetition might somehow make it easier to swallow. Your heart clenches, a familiar ache spreading through your chest. The kind of ache that never really goes away. The kind of ache that lingers, festers, and refuses to fade no matter how much time passes.

You want to scream, to throw your phone across the room, to erase the image, the words, the entire situation from existence. But you don’t. You sit still, paralyzed, watching the truth unfold in front of you, as if you’re witnessing something that’s no longer your story but someone else’s.

And maybe it is. Maybe it always was.

You think about the night he told you. The memory lingers, every detail sharp as if it just happened yesterday. The dim candlelight flickered between you, casting warm, uneven shadows on the table, making his eyes look darker than usual. Your hair was pinned up, just the way he liked it, because all you wanted was to be enough for him, to be loved and cherished by him just the way you loved him. You remember the way he fidgeted with the water glass in his hands, the way his fingers trembled slightly, betraying the calmness his voice tried to convey. He didn’t even drink from it, just held it there like it was something to anchor him. And you? You could feel it before he even spoke. The knot in your stomach, tight and twisting, the way your heart seemed to freeze in place, like it already knew what was coming before your brain would allow it to acknowledge the truth.

"I met someone."

The words barely make sense. They hang in the air between you, impossible to grasp. For a moment, it feels like the world tilts on its axis, like reality itself has cracked and this is some sort of cruel dream you’ll wake up from.

You almost laugh, bitter and disbelieving, because it doesn’t sound real. It doesn’t sound like Max. Not the Max who once whispered forever into your hair, promising you a future where nothing could tear you apart. Not the Max who swore he couldn’t imagine a life without you, who said your names together like they belonged in the same sentence, forever linked. But the words still come, and somehow, despite everything, they are his.

The restaurant around you starts to fade away, the sounds dulling to a distant hum, muffled like you’re underwater, as if the world is pulling away from you, inch by inch. Your heart races, but your body feels oddly disconnected from it all, like you're watching someone else’s life unfold before you, helpless to stop it. You take a shallow breath, but it doesn’t reach the depths of your chest, and the weight of the moment settles in there like a stone you can’t dislodge.

"What?" Your voice barely makes it past your lips, a fragile whisper, so quiet that for a second you think he won’t even hear you. But he does.

His gaze drops to the table, his eyes avoiding yours, as if he can’t bear to see you crumble, as if he’s already sorry for what he knows he’s about to do. His voice is quieter now, almost too soft to catch. "I didn’t mean for it to happen."

You shake your head, disbelief clouding your thoughts. Your hands curl into fists in your lap, nails digging painfully into your palms, trying to hold on to something, anything. The ring on your finger suddenly feels like it’s choking the life out of you. "But it did."

The words escape from your throat like shards of glass, sharp and cold, biting as they land between you. He swallows hard, and you wonder if he’s doing it to hold back tears, or if it’s just the weight of what he’s about to say.

“She has a daughter,” he adds, his voice thick, but the words hit you like a slap, sharp and unforgiving. You feel your mascara run as your eyes sting with the hot, unfamiliar ache of betrayal. But you don’t wipe the tears away. You don’t move. You just sit there, paralyzed, staring at him, waiting for him to say something—anything—that could take it all back. That could prove this isn’t real. That could remind you of the love you thought was enough.

“She’s not mine,” he continues, his voice wavering, like he’s trying to make it sound better, like he’s trying to convince you this is somehow okay. “But I love her like she is.”

The words hang in the air, thick and suffocating. A sudden, cold numbness spreads across your chest, a pain that feels both sharp and hollow. The space between you and him stretches, filling with the things he can’t say.

“And her mother?” You force the words out, each one heavier than the last.

His silence is loud enough to drown out everything else—the clinking of silverware, the murmur of conversations from nearby tables, the soft jazz music playing in the background. Everything around you fades into the background until all that’s left is him and you, caught in the unbearable weight of what he won’t say.

When he finally speaks again, his voice barely rises above a whisper, like he’s afraid of the truth. “I love her too.”

And just like that, it’s over. The last thread of hope you had been clinging to snaps, leaving you floating in a place where nothing makes sense anymore. The ring on your finger burns, searing into your skin, but you don’t take it off. Not yet. You can’t. Because somehow, it’s the only thing left of him, of the person you thought you knew, of the future that is no longer yours.

You know where he is now. He’s winning. He’s thriving. The world sees him on podiums, champagne in hand, his new life already unfolding in the bright lights. He’s standing beside someone else now, someone who doesn’t carry the weight of the past, someone who fills the space you left behind with ease. The world loves him, adores him. And you? You’re still at the restaurant, in the ruins of what he left behind, trapped in a love story that never got its happy ending, a story that no longer belongs to you.

You press your phone to your chest, as if it could somehow stop the ache from spreading. As if holding onto the past will make the present hurt less. But it doesn’t. The weight of the truth is suffocating, a heavy fog that settles over your heart, and you realize, with painful clarity, that you were never meant to be a part of his forever. You were never meant to last.

The whispers around you grow louder, piercing through the fog of your thoughts, and it doesn’t take much to understand why. You hear his name before you see him, and when you finally do, it feels like the ground beneath you tilts ever so slightly.

Max.

He looks different—sharper, somehow. More defined, more polished by the world that shaped him after you. His eyes sweep over the restaurant, and you wonder if they’ll stop on you, if he’ll look at you and see something from the past, something worth acknowledging. But no.

He’s here’s. At the restaurant. With her.

He really brought her here.

Kelly is beside him, her laughter effortless, untouched by the weight of history, the burden of old wounds. She leans into him, her hand resting gently on her stomach, a soft smile playing on her lips as she looks up at him with the kind of love you used to think was meant for you. She doesn’t know what it’s like to sit in this seat, to watch someone walk away, to feel the years stretch endlessly before you as you wonder if they ever think about you.

Max’s gaze flicks across the room, and for just a split second, it lands on you. It’s so brief that you almost convince yourself it didn’t happen. But it did. His steps falter for a fraction of a second, his fingers tightening around Kelly’s hand before he looks away, as if something inside him is trying to hold onto a memory that’s already slipping through his fingers.

And that’s it. No smile. No apology. No acknowledgment. Just a glance, a flash of something unspoken, and then—nothing.

You knew that he didn’t care about you but, facing with that reality hurt you more than you thought. Here you were, coming to the same place a man hurt you because you loved him so much, only for the same man to come too because he didn’t love you at all.

What a shame.

Maybe it is true. Maybe you really are unawarely frozen in time. Maybe that would explain why you still feel the same pain now as on the day he left you.

You swallow hard, blinking away the burning in your eyes. The candle on the table flickers, casting long shadows that seem to stretch endlessly across the walls. The world outside moves forward, time marching on relentlessly, but you remain frozen in place, clutching onto the past like it’s the only thing that hasn’t slipped away.

The moment passes, and Max moves on, just like he always does.

But you? You’re still right where he left you.