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attic-club-sandwich · 1 year

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How They are Handling your Disappearance Pt. 3

MC Returns

Ahh you guys i'm so glad you are enjoying this little series! I wasn't expecting so many of you to like it! But as requested by many, here is part 3 where MC returns to the present day timeline and reunites with the 7 brothers. This is a bit of a lengthy one because like... we are home! It's a little less angsty, a little more happy this time haha. Anyways, please enjoy! Reblogs and feedback are appreciated as usual!

Read Part 1: Brothers

Read Part 2: Side Characters

Word count: 3,057

Rating: T, slightly suggestive.

Taglist: @amberrskiies @obey-me-posts @sassykattery @delphi-dreamin @bite-sized-devil @flemmingbamse @a-hidden-gem @otomefoxystar @siofrantic @todothedodo @ihatecorns @exrellian @vernith @sus0daddy

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rose divider by @/firefly-graphics

It feels like it has been forever since the day that you went missing, but the brothers never gave up their search. How could they when you were out there somewhere, possibly alone and scared? The thought of their little human wandering around the unknown gave them the motivation they needed to keep going. But after a long day of once again searching the Devildom up and down with no results, the brothers are settling down for the evening.

Lucifer

The Avatar of Pride is in his room getting ready for bed after a long day of searching for you.

His wings are terribly sore from flying all day, so he lays on his bed sprawled out on his stomach, allowing his feathery wings to stretch out behind him.

He rests his head in his arms, and sighs.

Yet another day of searching, but no results.

Suddenly, he begins to feel a familiar tingling sensation of magic in the air that brings goosebumps to his bare arms.

Before he had time to process what was happening, a flash of light filled his room, practically blinding him.

After a few seconds, the light dissipates and there you are, standing in its place.

Lucifer forgets all about his aching wings, and jumps up from the bed.

At first, he hesitates, terrified that you’ll disappear again at any moment.

“M-MC…? Is it really you…?”

His crimson eyes are wide as he takes in your appearance.

You appear the same, but he's confused by the horns that now rest on your head, as well as a few other demonic attributes.

Just where did you disappear to?

Your face scrunches up and your eyes fill with tears. “L-Luci… yes, it’s really me.”

Suddenly, his arms are around you, a million questions in his throat but unable to speak.

You whimper, taking in his scent. He smells freshly showered, the smell of his soap sending a wave of comfort crashing over you.

“Luci… I missed you so much…I’m so sorry…”

His shoulders begin to tremble and he tucks his face into the crook of your neck.

You feel wetness on your skin as he begins to cry.

Have you ever seen him cry before?

Just how much have they all suffered while I was gone?

Your arms wrap themselves around his neck and you squeeze your eyes shut.

You stand there in his arms, his wings wrapping themselves around the two of you protectively.

He will never let you go again.

After a few moments, he pulls away, staring into your eyes.

“MC, the days I've spent searching for you were endless… but never once did I give up. I’m very glad that I didn’t. Every second was worth my time.”

Suddenly his lips are on yours and you accept his kiss greedily.

Kissing him was the confirmation you needed that you were home.

“MC, please forgive me. You can tell me the details later, but right now I just need you. I need to know you are here and…real.”

He spins you around, guiding you to his bed so the back of your legs hit the edge, causing you to fall back.

He hovers over top of you, his crimson eyes full of love, adoration, and desire.

You giggle through your tears, placing a hand on his cheek. “I love you so much, Luci.”

He smiles, tucking a stray hair behind your ear.

“Words alone cannot express my love for you, little one.”

You give him a peck on the lips again. “We have a lot of time to make up for you know… where should we start?”

Lucifer gives you a mischievous grin. “I have just the thing in mind, darling. Something that has been long overdue.”

Mammon

Mammon returned to his bedroom shortly after arriving home.

He had to check on his ravens who were also out searching for you while they were gone.

His wings were sore as shit, and all he wanted to do was shower and go to bed.

But you are more important.

Throwing open his window, one of his ravens glides down to greet him.

“Damn, ya didn’t find anything did ya?”

The raven hangs its head sadly, and Mammon sighs.

“Thanks anyways, I appreciate the help.”

Suddenly the raven begins to flap its wings wildly, cawing at something behind him.

Mammon spins around, and his golden eyes widen in shock when he sees just who is appearing in the middle of his bedroom.

It was you, clear as day.

He’s speechless, unable to find the right words even though he’s been playing them on repeat in his head since the day you left.

“Mammon!” you shout with tears in your eyes. You begin to run towards him, but he meets you halfway, scooping you up into his arms and spinning you around.

He sets you down again, and hugs you snugly to his chest.

“MC…I… Shit. I-I missed ya so damn much…” he says with a shaky voice.

You inhale his scent as he hugs you, which smells of sweat and leather.

You’re home. He’s your Mammon. Finally…

“Mams, I’m so so sorry… I’ll explain everything I promise…”

He pulls you away from him, his golden blue gaze staring intensely at you.

“Damn right ya will! But for now…I don’t care..I just… I need ya so bad… I mean this can’t be real, right?”

You give him a small smile, taking his hand in yours.

“I’m real, Mammon. I promise.”

His tanned skin is flushed as he pulls you with him to sit on his bed, hoisting you up onto his lap.

He can’t hold back anymore as he plants a firm kiss to your lips.

You accept it eagerly.

Your tongues intertwine briefly before he pulls away, breathless.

“I love ya MC, I’m so sorry I couldn’t do a damn thing…”

You silence him with a kiss to the forehead.

“It’s not your fault, Mammon. Please don’t cry…”

He notices your own lip quivering, and let’s out an amused snort through his tears.

“Don’t you go cryin’ on me either!”

His long, slender fingers run through your hair and you sigh.

His lips are on yours once more, a low growl rumbling in his chest.

You can sense his overwhelming desire threatening to take over.

“Mammon’s got ya now, treasure. You’re safe with me. I’m never letting you go again.”

Leviathan

Throughout the search, Levi has been exploring every inch of the Devildom waters.

From seas to lakes, he still could find no trace of you.

Levi heads back to his room, a towel around his waist after Lucifer forced him to strip in the hallway so he didn’t track water through the house.

Once he’s dried off and dressed again, he sinks down in his gaming chair, sighing as his aching limbs are finally able to rest.

Tears welled up in his eyes, disappointed that he let everyone down again.

Especially you.

I’m so useless, he thinks.

A stray tear rolls down his cheek, and he wipes it away with his arm.

A flash of light appears before him, and it sends a tingling sensation up his body.

Wait a minute…that’s…!

His eyes are wide and his mouth gapes open as he looks up to see you standing there right in front of him.

“M-MC, I-Is it really y-you?!” Of course he’s a stuttering mess, but he can’t believe it.

He doesn’t know when he stood up, but suddenly you are slamming into him, wrapping your arms around his torso.

“Yes, Levi. It’s me.” you sob, burying your face into his chest.

Your voice has him melting in your grip.

He finally fully embraces you, burning his face into your hair.

Your scent is slightly different, and he can smell other demons on you.

This sends a wave of envy over him, but he ignores it. All he cares about is that you’re home.

He, however, smells of the sea.

“Levi, I'm so sorry… I promise I’ll explain. I just really need you right now. I’ve missed you so much…”

Leviathan only nods, his shoulders trembling from the sobs that are escaping him.

You stay standing there wrapped in his arms, gently rubbing circles on his back.

After some time, he calms down.

His eyes are red and puffy and his face is swollen. Your heart aches for him.

Suddenly, he grabs your hand, leading you over with him to his bathtub.

You climb in together, and you sit in his lap. His tail curls around you, holding you in place.

“M-MC…can I um, k-kiss you?” he asks, his tear stained cheeks becoming flushed.

You nod eagerly, and he places a soft, gentle kiss to your lips.

Your lips are the same as ever, soft and sweet.

Levi is overwhelmed with affection for you.

“I love you, I love you, I love you…” he mutters, rocking you gently in his lap.

He peppers your face with kisses and you giggle, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“I love you so much too, Levi. I’m so glad to be home…”

He rests his head on your shoulder, purple strands of his hair tickling your cheek.

“Please don’t leave me like that again, MC. I-I was so scared…”

The tremor in his voice causes fresh tears to form in the corner of your eyes.

“Never again, I’m staying right here with you.”

Satan

Satan steps over the pile of books on his floor before flopping down onto his bed.

His bedroom is in quite the disarray due to his last tantrum.

He can’t help that he’s just so damn frustrated!

They’ve practically searched the Devildom inside out, and still… nothing.

He huffs, crossing his arms over his chest as he stares out the window, tears threatening to spill down his cheeks.

He almost doesn’t notice the burst of light filling his bedroom.

The air was practically vibrating with magic when he spun his head around to see the silhouette of a figure in the blinding light.

He squints, trying his best to make out the form. Once the light dissipates, an unfamiliar feeling washes over him.

Satan thought he’s finally experienced every emotion in his lifetime of being in the Devildom.

But what he feels when he sees you standing there in his bedroom is indescribable.

He gasps, immediately jumping up from his bed and hurrying over to you.

Your eyes are locked on him, and he thought he noticed you flinch the moment he approached you.

“MC… are… you okay? Where in the Devildom have you been?”

His voice is soft, but it trembles slightly.

He doesn’t expect answers right away, of course.

Not when you are standing here in front of him for the first time in what feels like an eternity.

You nod, trying to wipe away your tears. “Satan… It’s me. I-I’m home.”

The sound of his name leaving your lips after so long pushes him over the edge.

He pulls you into his arms and he squeezes you tight, finally allowing his tears to fall.

“M-MC… I'm so glad you’re home safe… I was so worried about you…”

You relax against his chest, finally processing the fact that this wasn’t the past version of himself.

After a few moments, you sniff, pulling away from him to gaze into his eyes. You notice a scar on his cheek, still healing from a recent fight he must have had.

You gently trace your fingers over it, and he winces.

“I’m so sorry Satan…the pain that I must have caused you all…”

He shakes his head, glancing away.

“I’m just so relieved you are home, MC. I don’t believe that whatever happened was your fault.”

His fingers run through your hair and he kisses your forehead.

“Can I…kiss you?” you ask, your cheeks flushing slightly. Normally you wouldn’t ask, but it’s been awhile.

“Of course, kitten. But just know if you do, I may not be able to hold myself back from you much longer.”

You give him a smirk, and press your lips firmly to his.

To finally kiss your Satan once more.

He slips his tongue past your lips, and you groan.

When you pull away, his emerald eyes are shining with passion.

“Every book I read told me how to find you, but they never mentioned how to handle your return.”

He moves you to his bed with him so you are straddling his lap.

“But I don’t believe I need any instruction as to what comes next. I love you, MC. Please allow me to express the longing I’ve felt for you all this time.”

Asmodeus

Asmo had made his way to his room for the evening with the overwhelming urge to climb into his silk bed sheets.

But first he really wanted a bath. The thought of the warm water soothing his aching joints was very pleasant to him right now.

He had made his way into the bathroom to start the water, the noise of the faucet drowning out the sound coming from his bedroom.

Asmo thought he heard something, and he lifted his head to the door that connects from the bathroom to his room.

He thought his eyes were playing tricks on him.

Was that a flash of light just now? Is it storming?

He furrowed his brow in confusion, and stepped slowly over to peek through the door.

Nothing could have prepared him for what he saw.

There you were, standing right there in his bedroom.

Your eyes were wide and looking around, still processing where you had appeared.

Asmo gasps, forgetting about the bath and hurries over to you.

“M-MC?!” he shrieks, pulling you into the tightest hug he’s sure he’s ever given.

You begin to cry, tears falling down your cheeks and onto his shoulder.

“Shhh, MC. Don’t cry now, darling…” he coos, but his own tears are escaping him.

He holds you close as you cry together.

“Asmodeus…is… it really you? My Asmo?” you whimper.

He’s confused by what you mean, but he doesn’t question it for now.

“Of course my little lamb, it’s me. You’re home now…”

You sniff, pulling away from him slightly. “I’m so sorry Asmo, I swear I didn’t mean to leave you guys like that…”

Taking your hands in his, he shakes his head. “No no, hon, don’t blame yourself for this. I know there’s a very good reason, but you can explain later to all of us, okay?”

You nod, wiping your eyes.

“I was just about to get a bath. Would you care to join me, MC?”

The thought of taking a bath with Asmo right now feels…unreal.

You couldn’t believe you were finally home with him.

Smiling, he leads you into the bathroom.

First, he steps out of his robe, and your face flushes.

You’ll never get over how beautiful he is.

Then it’s your turn.

You shiver as he begins to undress you, his fingers brushing over your skin.

He smiles softly as he notices the goosebumps that begin to form on your body.

“I’ve missed this so much. Let me get a good look at you, darling.”

His eyes tear up again as his eyes travel over your body, still in disbelief that you were standing right there with him again after so long.

“I need all the time I can get with you right now before my brothers find out you’re home.”

He takes your hand and helps guide you into the bathtub.

You sigh as the warm water envelops you and he places you in between his legs with your back to him.

You feel his arms wrap themselves around you and you blush.“I’ve only been dreaming of this moment with you, MC.” Asmo murmurs, attaching his lips to your shoulder.

You whine as he continues to kiss up your neck.

“I love you so much, Asmo…”

He smiles into the crook of your neck as he holds you close.

“My dear, if anything came out of your disappearance, it’s how much I realized that I love you. Please, allow me to show you…”

Beelzebub and Belphegor

The twins were always together nowadays.

They were both getting ready for bed in their room after their long day, neither of them wanting to speak about the disappointing results of the search.

Belphie hugged his pillow to his chest as he climbed into bed beside Beel.

He was struggling to stay awake, but he had a peculiar feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Of course, being his twin, Beel felt it too. It wasn’t hunger, or anything like that… It was…

“Belphie do you feel…”

Before he could finish, a burst of light filled the room, temporarily blinding them both.

The sensation of magic through the air sent shivers down their spines.

Once the light dulled, they glanced up through squinted eyes to see… you.

Wait, is that really…?

Despite the dull ache in their bodies, they both jump up.

“MC!” their violet eyes are wide as they gape at you, still trying to decide if this was real or a cruel hallucination.

But you seem just as surprised as they are.

Suddenly, you feel yourself being pulled into a strong embrace.

Belphie is squeezed into the hug next to you, and you both glance up to see Beel with tears streaming down his cheeks.

“B-Beel… Belphie…I’ve missed you both so much…”

You sob, burying your face into Beel’s chest.

Belphie finally allows his tears to fall. I’m so lame, he thinks.

How dare you make him cry like this?

But he’s so happy. So relieved.

Beel begins to move you both towards his bed, placing you right between him and his brother.

You whimper as you feel their arms wrap around you.

The thought of being able to do this again with them never even crossed your mind.

You feel Beel nuzzle his face into your hair.

You smelled…different. But there was no denying your familiar scent and it made his mouth water.

Belphie yawned, burying his face into your shoulder.

“Beel and I had each other, but MC… you are our missing piece.”

His twin nodded, placing a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Belphie is right. It feels right again with you here in between us.”

Your heart was so full.

You smiled wide as you kissed both of their foreheads.

“My boys…I love you so much.”

As you laid together, they took turns littering you with kisses and whispering sweet nothings into your ear.

The feeling of their lips and their hands on your body has your head spinning, and you whisper their names between breathless gasps.

After sometime, Beel turned towards you, a glint of mischief in his eyes.

“I’m feeling a bit hungry…but for something different. How about you Belphie?”

Belphie immediately sensed where his twin was going and flashed him a smile back.

“I’m all of a sudden wide awake. What do you say you join us, MC? We want you to ourselves before we have to go back to sharing you.”

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poorly-drawn-mdzs · 1 year

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Master manipulator vs Master manipulator

[First] Prev <–-> Next

#poorly drawn mdzs #mdzs #xue yang #a-qing #The scenes with XY and A-Qing are so delightfully tense and anxiety inducing #They are both so deep in the mind games with each other. Convinced they have the leg up when in reality they do not know the full scope #Also is is just me or do XY and A-Qing give off the vibe of internet nemeses?#A-Qing coming in hard with 'Oh you think blind people cant do XYZ? Get canceled idiot'#Meanwhile XY is the kind to purposefully use leet speak in descriptive text to antagonize the screen reader population.#a teen girl and a 4-channer who found his way to tumblr would be awful to watch fight irl but the vibes are equivalent.#Meanwhile XXC is going on a nice little walk to pick grass. I love him so much actually.#through writing these notes I have also gone down the rabbit hole of trying to pinpoint Xue Yang's age. Hello? Is it actually not known?#The best resources I could find put him as 1-3 years younger then xxc and song lan #So? early twenties? late teens? Someone who has absorbed more mdzs knowledge...Please help #Oh no I'm even deeper in the rabbit hole now. What do you mean the ages are mostly just relative?#What do you mean cultivators can age differently (usually slower in xianxia)#Oh no oh no wwx doesn't have a golden core. I was too accurate in my homestuck AU re: lifespans. I want to go back.#(I love angst and am now marinating this thought in my little thinking chamber)

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marblemoovt · 1 year

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Waterfall - Guts/Reader

Masterlist

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 7.9k

Warnings: Smut, Fluff, A sprinkle of angst, AFAB Reader, Porn with a little bit of Plot, Oral Sex, Fingering, P in V Sex, Edging, Aftercare (Let me know if I'm missing any)

Summary:

Months after the eclipse, you're still grappling with it all. But at least you're not alone. You might as well get railed to ease the burden of living.

------

“I’m ok,” you repeat, smiling more easily now. His brows furrow and he rests his forehead against yours.

“I could have lost you,” he whispers, his eyes sheen in the light. You click your tongue and pinch his cheek. Guts scowls but doesn’t move away.

“But you didn’t. I’m right here. I’m standing right in front of you, so why do you keep looking back?” There’s a slight tremor in your tone. You unclench your fists, pushing him back to create some distance. There’s a brief flash of emotion across his face, but it dissipates with the heat simmering your blood. “I’m right here,” you whisper against the roar of the waterfall.

Note:

Hello! I know I disappeared for like, almost a year. No freak accidents or anything of the like. Life has just been busy and I have poor time management. But I missed writing, even though it did not miss me ;-; The writing gods did not bless me with inspiration for a long while, not to mention I have a stubborn habit of only having one wip at a time (I have multiple ideas, but I only work on one fic at a time).

In any case, I hope this brings joy to somebody. I am frankly tired from editing this monstrosity so I'll leave you to enjoy :)

Happy Reading! ヾ(•ω•`)o

Note: This does take place in the same universe as Love Triangle but this can be read as a stand-alone.

Water cascades down your body, beating into your skin. The temperature was freezing earlier, but now it’s numbed into a slight chill. You stare at the rock wall, trailing along the cracks and crevices that crater the surface. Sprinkles of minerals sparkle throughout, reflecting rainbows when the moonlight hits them just right.

The cold bite of metal stings into your shoulder, and you jerk away from the contact. Whirling around, you come face to face with Guts. He stares at his hand, clenching it into a fist before it drops to his side.

“You’re gonna freeze to death,” he says. You notice the gray towel peeking out behind his arm.

You drag your fingers through your hair, shaking off the water droplets. A few stray drops trickle down your chin, and Guts watches them drip along your collarbone. “I’ll be done soon,” you say. The phantom blood still sticks to your raw skin, the scent of iron lingering while your body becomes a collage of self-inflicted wounds. You scrubbed and scrubbed, but it’s not enough. Not even an entire ocean can wash away the atrocities you witnessed. But maybe that’s the burden of surviving the eclipse, for living when you were marked for death.

“You looked done 20 minutes ago. Skin’s gonna start peeling if you don’t stop,” he says. You look away from Guts and pick at the dead skin underneath your nails, grimacing at your wrinkled fingertips.

“I don’t feel done. I don’t think I ever will,” you admit in a hushed whisper. Guts doesn’t say anything, offering his hand for you to take. Accepting the gesture, you’re tugged into his chest. The soft towel gently pats your skin dry and tousles your wet hair. He pauses, eyes scanning your face. “I’m okay, as okay as one can be in our situation.” Your lips twitch into a small smile, but this seems to only frustrate him more.

Guts growls, his jaw clenched shut. “I’ll kill him.” There’s no room for questioning who ‘he’ is. You bring a hand up to cup his cheek, and his posture relaxes. Your thumb traces the bags underneath his eyes.

“I’m ok,” you repeat, smiling more easily now. His brows furrow and he rests his forehead against yours.

“I could have lost you,” he whispers, his eyes sheen in the light. You click your tongue and pinch his cheek. Guts scowls but doesn’t move away.

“But you didn��t. I’m right here. I’m standing right in front of you, so why do you keep looking back?” There’s a slight tremor in your tone. You unclench your fists, pushing him back to create some distance. There’s a brief flash of emotion across his face, but it dissipates with the heat simmering your blood. “I’m right here,” you whisper against the roar of the waterfall.

“I’m not…. ”He sighs and finally meets your gaze. “I’m not angry at you.” Guts fiddles with the towel in his hand. “I wasn’t strong enough to save you.” His touch drifts towards the bandages wrapping his torso.

You walk up to Guts, enveloping him in a hug. “Can we pretend for once that everything is ok? That spirits aren’t hunting us, and a bunch of Apostles won’t fuck up the world?” When he doesn’t respond, you look to see him staring at the ceiling. “Guts?”

“Clothes,” he stutters. “You’re not wearin’ any.” You look down at your naked body pressed against his.

“You weren’t shy earlier when you were drying me.” Leaning in further has the desired effect when you feel a bulge against your lower abdomen. “Looks like someone has no complaints,” you say with a smirk.

Guts groans and shudders when you roll your hips. He wraps an arm around your waist, palm splayed against the curve of your back. His hand slides to squeeze your ass, and he whispers into your ear, “Don’t provoke me.” It’s a similar tone to when he shouts orders on the battlefield. You take it as an invitation to tease him further. He notices the glint in your eyes and clicks his tongue. “Brat.”

You know he’s soft beneath that tough exterior. You can see it in how he brings you something warm to drink when it’s cold, how his hands naturally gravitate to your waist or the small of your back. Guts doesn’t like saying it, but you just know. Currently, he’s scolding you for being in the water too long. You won’t point it out, but he grabbed the softest towel to dry you.

“I love you,” you say. His hands freeze, and the lines on his face soften.

Guts sighs, “How can you be so lovely and infuriating at the same time?” He cups your cheek but quickly recoils upon noticing the gleam of metal contrasting against your skin.

You grab his wrist and press a kiss onto the palm of his prosthetic hand. “It’s one of my many talents,” you reply, pressing another kiss to his lips to prevent him from biting them.

“It’s strange,” Guts mumbles. Your other hand slides down his chest, trailing along his abs to the waistline of his pants. His breath hitches, and he nips your earlobe in retaliation. “Sometimes I still feel it when you touch that hand,” he says.

“Do you feel this?” You trace the outline of his growing erection, eventually rubbing your hand against the bulge in his trousers. He bucks his hips into your touch, and a low groan escapes from his lips. “Or what about this?” Slipping your hand beneath the fabric, you’re surprised by the lack of an additional layer. “Expecting something, are we?” You grin impishly at him, inching your fingers closer to his cock. Your skin is still cold from the water, and Guts is blazing beneath your touch.

“Not at”—you firmly grip his shaft and begin stroking languidly—”all,” he forces through gritted teeth. You can almost hear the creak of his jaw as it strains under pressure.

“So you weren’t expecting to find me still naked at the waterfall and indulge in some intimate acts?” You stop stroking to tease the head of his cock, running your thumb over the frenulum. Thick precum coats your hand, and you reluctantly pull away, but only to see the frustration grow on Guts’s face. “Then I guess there’s no need for me to continue.” You wade through the pool and use the waterfall to rinse your hand.

As you’re flicking off water droplets, a broad chest presses against your back, and thick arms wrap around your waist. The sudden force pushes you into the rock wall, your hands flying up out of instinct to lessen the impact. You turn your head to see Guts, completely bare, his clothes lying in a forgotten heap by the pool. That explains what’s twitching against your lower back. You grind slow, lazy circles against his stiff cock, grinning at how he trembles with the slightest rock of your hips.

“Stop,” he pleads, squeezing his arms to constrain your movements. It’s cute; he’s pretending to stop you, but his hold is too lax.

You hum and redirect one of his hands to your breasts, sighing at the contact. “If you really wanted me to stop, you wouldn’t be enthusiastically rutting like a dog in heat,” you say. As if to prove your point, a low whine pitches in the back of his throat when you press against him to hinder his movements.

“So maybe I don’t want to stop,” he admits. “Maybe I want to rough you up against the wall until you can’t walk the next day.” The imagery sends a gush of slickness between your thighs, and you rub them together to ease the ache.

“Then why don’t you?” You spin around to face him and hook one leg around his thigh, tugging his hips closer. The sharp exhale followed by a groan is music to your ears. Your arms drape over his shoulders, sinking your nails into his broad back. You have him trapped. Or is it the other way around? He could effortlessly pry you off, but his dark eyes hold no intention of letting you go. “I don’t break easily, you know,” you whisper against his lips, his breath fanning your face.

Guts bites his lips, fingers bruising your hips, marks he’ll kiss in the morning when you’re bedridden. “I—“

You cut him off, and his Adam’s apple bobs. “Let me make myself clear, Guts. I want you to fuck me.” His breath hitches, the click of his throat silenced by the rush of water. “Fuck me so damn hard I don’t remember a thing about this shitty world we live in.” You want to spend at least an hour free from the waking nightmare that plagues your daily life. Maybe this isn’t the best way, but it is the most pleasant.

You know you’ll go to bed and dream of crimson skies and shrill screams. A world where the tang of metal never leaves your mouth. Where rot and decay fester in your lungs, smothering you alongside the scent of burning flesh. And then you’ll wake up, touch your face to feel the wet streaks streaming down your cheeks. Guts will be sleeping beside you, faring no better in his dreams, relaxing only when you hold his hand and lay on his chest.

Yeah, the world is fucked up, and so is your mental state. You might as well get railed to ease the burden of living.

But enough about later. What’s happening right now is important. And what’s happening right now is Guts pleading with his eyes to please you. He has one arm hooked underneath your leg to support it, the other still wrapped around your waist, hand dipping to cup your ass. He grinds his erection against your clit, and you bite your lip to hold back a moan.

Guts kisses behind your ear, sucking on the spot. Your blood thrums through your veins, buzzing with electricity. “Guess the waterfall will be useful,” he says.

“How so?” you hum, closing your eyes as he trails his lips along your jawline. You tilt your head back, and he peppers your exposed throat with kisses, playfully nipping but careful to avoid breaking the skin. A tingle shoots up from the base of your spine when his teeth scrape over your pulse, tongue laving over your racing heartbeat.

“Others won’t hear any of your screams.” He hoists you up, and your legs instinctively wrap around his waist. “I get to have you all to myself.” Your back thuds against the wall, the rough rock leaving a light sting on your skin. There’s a hunger in his eyes that threatens to devour you. He always gets that look when he’s determined to spoil you rotten.

You ignore the throbbing heat in your core, focusing on the slanted curve of his lips. “Ooh, confident are we?” you tease, dragging your nails across his back, grinning at the shudder it elicits.

“I’ve always been skillful with my hands,” he says, lowering your feet. At the shallow end of the pool, water laps at your knees. The chill heightens the burn of your skin, and the slickness between your thighs becomes impossible to ignore. Guts sinks down, kneeling in front of you, hands parting your legs gently. He tuts and gazes at you with mock scorn. “You cleaned up earlier, but now you’ve made a mess again.”

“And whose fault is that?” you reply, inhaling sharply when his fingers rub circles into your thighs.

He hums and plants a kiss on your kneecap, lips skirting up closer to the source of your dripping cunt. “A man should always take responsibility for his actions.” His warm breath is like a spark of flint on kindling. It starts a blazing heat that crawls up and pools in your stomach, spreading throughout your veins until your entire body is engulfed in flames.

A thin veil of fog blankets your mind. For a second, you almost forget how to breathe. He looks up at you from between your legs, tongue swiping across his bottom lip. He looks eager to taste you; it causes you to clench tightly, gripping around nothing but air. And you want him to fill you up, to replace the void the eclipse left behind after it tore almost everything from you.

Your body seizes up. A cool jet of air against your clit catches you off guard. Guts looks you in the eyes, trapping you in their dark depths. “If—at any time—you want me to stop, tell me,” he commands. His lips are pressed into a thin line, and he holds your gaze. He won’t continue unless you agree.

You wrack your brain together, drumming your fingers on the wall behind you to form a coherent thought. But all you can focus on is his warm breath against your skin, the burning ache in your core that beckons for his attention.

Guts sighs, drinking in your scent deeply. He licks his lips, and his fingers dig into your flesh. “I don’t want this to be like the other times,” he admits.

You stare at him quietly, observing the clarity in his eyes. This isn’t the first time you’ve sought each other’s company. After all, who better to seek comfort from than someone who’s been through the same traumatizing event? Overcome with grief and guilt, you found solace in the warmth of his body and vice versa. It wasn’t always sexual, but sometimes you crave the shelter of having no other thoughts besides pleasure. To know nothing else but pure bliss for a brief respite.

Guts mistakes your silence for rejection. “Let me cherish you,” he pleads. “Let me worship you the way you deserve.” And you recall dark nights of clashing teeth and tongues, scratches and bruises made just to feel something—anything. There’s still a tinge of purple around his collarbone, the imprint of your teeth long faded. The harsh lines on his face are nonexistent. His touch is light, revering.

You don’t think you’ve ever felt this important. Guts doesn’t treat you like glass. He looks like he would raze the entire world in flames for you, and all you need to do is ask. Cupping his chin in one hand, you stare into his earnest eyes. Guts pulls away to plant kisses along your knuckles. The corners of his mouth curl up at your sigh when he nips at your fingertips. It’s hard to describe this feeling. All the tension and worry in your body building up like a brick wall suddenly crumbles to dust.

And how can you say no when he looks so eager to please—to love you? A brief taste of copper coats your tongue, and you ignore the phantom claws dragging down your lower abdomen. You focus instead on Guts’s soft touches, the steady gurgle of water, and the moonlight filtering through the pockets of sky in the ceiling.

You are safe.

“Ok,” you whisper. Slowly, you spread your legs apart and cool your burning cheeks with the back of your hand. “Please touch me.”

Guts plants a kiss on your inner thigh, trailing upwards. He wants to drag this out and tease you until the anticipation has you dripping with need. With one calloused hand resting on your pubic mound, he licks a long stripe through your folds, groaning at your intoxicating taste. A jolt of pleasure crawls up your back before slamming into your core.

Your eyes nearly roll into the back of your head when he eats you out messily. Obscene slurps and groans bounce off the rock walls. Guts slings one of your legs over his shoulder and focuses on your clit, inserting two fingers into your dripping cunt. Spots of light dance across your vision when he crooks his fingers to stroke your sweet spot. It’s a wonder how you’re still standing.

Just as the band in your stomach goes taut, Guts pulls away. The pleasure building in your body drops and transforms into a sharp ache that has your body screaming for release.

“Your legs are trembling,” Guts points out.

You press harder against the wall and try to remember how to stand. “No, I’m not,” you say.

Guts hums and plants a kiss on your clit, the kind that fills your veins with lava and sets off the butterflies in your stomach. “You can be so damn stubborn.” He stands and carries you with ease, wading towards the edge.

“What are you doing?” you ask.

“Some underwater training,” Guts replies, refusing to elaborate further. He stops and sets you on the ground. The water reaches just below your chest in this position; the sudden coldness shocks your skin. It makes you hyper-aware of your sensitivity.

Gus parts your legs, and you lean back slightly, using your arms to support yourself from behind. His touch radiates familiarity, hands caressing all the spots that work you up. You lick your lips and part then to ask another question. “Wha—“

“Always wanted to see how long I could hold my breath,” Guts cuts you off, petting your clit gently. He gazes at you through hooded lids, a grin ghosting his lips. “They say the average is 3-5 minutes. Let’s set a new record.” His words send tingles throughout your body, and you clench at the thought.

“What do you mean?” you ask, distracted by the circles he’s drawing with his thumb. If you time it just right, you can buck your hips and have him stroke your swollen clit.

“Don’t worry about it.” And the next thing you know, his head’s underwater and his tongue is prodding at your entrance. Your fingers immediately thread his hair, tugging his scalp when his nose brushes against your clit.

The water and walls blur into blobs of colour, your heartbeat thundering in your eardrums. The throbbing between your thighs quickens, and that band in your stomach threatens to snap and give you whiplash. Guts brings a hand up close to your clit. You squeeze your eyes shut, dangling on the precipice of an orgasm.

He surfaces from the water. His shit-eating grin only widens when you vocalize your discontentment. A flick to your clit shortcircuits your brain with a jolt of pleasure, eliciting a scream from your lips. One of your hands slips, and suddenly the world is careening backwards—or is it forwards?

Strong arms wrap around your body, and suddenly you’re face to face with Guts instead of the ceiling. Water splashes and drenches both of you in the crossfire. You try to stand up, but Guts digs his fingers into your hips. Something warm brushes against your bare cunt.

This new position has you straddling Guts. Even the most minuscule movements cause some degree of friction. The look in his eyes tells you that he’s barely restraining himself. Since his hands hold your hips in place, you lean forward and attack his neck with bites and hickeys. Guts hisses and immediately stands up, hoisting you with him.

“Let’s move to land. Wouldn’t want you to drown,” he rasps, shuddering when you lick over his racing pulse.

“I can think of other ways to leave me breathless,” you whisper, lifting your head and baring your neck. The perfect place for his hands to wrap around.

“Another time. Right now, I want you to sit on my face,” he says, setting you on the ground. Your cunt throbs in response, and you crawl—a little too eagerly—into position. You stop mere centimetres from his face, hovering in your hesitation. Inklings of doubt blot your thoughts. What if you’re too heavy? What if you smother— “Too long,” he grunts, interrupting your inner monologue. Guts grips your thighs and pulls you down, wasting no time ravaging you with his tongue,

You suck in a breath, hips rocking at a steady rhythm. Your eyes nearly roll into the back of your head when his mouth latches around your clit and sucks greedily. He pulls away with a pop, the bottom half of his face glistening with your arousal. He licks his lips and groans, “Fuck, you taste amazing.”

“Less talking, more licking,” you say.

“What, no please?”

You don’t humour him with a response and take matters into your own hands. You lift your hips and grind against the ridge of his nose.

Guts swears under his breath, inhaling your intoxicating scent. “What am I going to do with you?” he groans.

You huff in frustration at the loss of stimulation. “What you should have done ages ago. Now shut up before I make you.”

Guts doesn’t move. “Not until you say please,” he says.

“You’re such a fucking tease,” you moan, wriggling your hips to no avail since his hands have barred you from moving any lower.

“I just want to hear you beg for it.” He spreads your lips and admires how wet you are. When you remain silent, he massages the area surrounding your clit. “No? Not gonna cave in?”

You narrow your eyes and scrape your nails against his broad chest. “Fuck, you.” It comes out through gritted teeth.

Guts chuckles. A low sound filled with mirth. “Oh, love. You wish.” His thumb probes your entrance, pulling out to slide along your slit. “I do have to praise you for holding out this long. It must feel unbearable.” And it does. Your skin is about to burst at the seams as the pleasure threatens to drive you mad. Never given enough to bring you over the edge, but just enough to stimulate the ache in your core—the desire to be filled.

“Not. At. All.”

Guts clucks his tongue, drawing circles around your swollen clit. “Liar.” He slowly pushes a finger into your cunt, adding another when he feels how wet you are. It doesn’t take long before the squelches reach your burning ears. His fingers curl and stroke that sensitive area on your walls. The pace is agonizingly slow, and it only deepens the ache. You bite down on your bottom lip, almost hard enough to draw blood.

Your body trembles when he plants a kiss on your clit. Ah, to hell with playing hard to get. You might die if he doesn’t give you an orgasm right now.

“Guts?” you groan, clenching when he pets your clit in response.

“Yes, my love?” He sounds so smug. You don’t even need to look to see the smirk on his face.

“…Please,” you whisper, hissing when he stops his ministrations.

“Didn’t catch what you said. Gonna need you to repeat that.” He slowly resumes his movements, rubbing his fingertips against your walls.

You grunt and try to focus, blinking to clear the fog in your brain. “Please. Fuck. Me.” You punctuate each word with a thrust of your hips. Guts’s fingers immediately retract, and you whine at the loss, only to throw your head back when he eats you out like a man starved.

His hands hold you in place, only allowing enough freedom to ride his face, which you do—greedily. He runs the flat of his tongue across your slit. Every so often he comments on how good you taste, normally ending with how he can never get enough. You don’t know. You don’t really care. He’s drawing patterns on your clit, each stroke bringing you closer to climax.

And you’re so close. You can almost feel it. Guts must sense it, too, because he focuses on your clit, hands locking you snugly against his face. With his unrelenting tongue, you cum with a scream. Your entire body buzzes with electricity, clit throbbing in time with your clenches. Guts doesn’t stop, and soon the pleasure borders on pain. It’s too much. You jerk away, but he keeps you trapped in his hold.

You can’t think anymore. You can only incoherently babble for him to let you go. And then it creeps up on you. The aftershocks of your last orgasm, combined with the continued stimulation, tighten that band in your stomach again. Tears sting the corner of your eyes, blurring your vision. It’s too much. You want it to stop.

But it feels so fucking good.

Guts swaps his tongue for his fingers, filling you up once more. Your back arches when he brushes over your g-spot. You mewl and beg him to do it again.

“One more time. Cum for me one more time,” he orders. And how can you say no when he uses that tone? Guts pays special attention to your previous request, fingers curling with practiced precision. “I want even the gods to hear you scream my name.”

He doesn’t need to convince you. Liquid heat pools in your stomach, bubbling like a pot about to boil over. His name is the first sound to leave your lips when you come undone. Guts is gentler this time; he draws out your orgasm slowly, careful not to overstimulate you. Your vision burns with tears as your body curls up before sagging bonelessly.

You heave a sigh and crawl to the side, shuddering when the cold air hits your sensitive skin With a content smile, you stare at Guts in a daze, fuzzy warmth blanketing your mind.

“Good?” he asks.

“Mhmm.” Your eyes drift to his erection; it twitches under your attention. Suddenly you’re aware of the heady scent of musk in the air. Licking your lips, you look back at Guts. He doesn’t say anything, but his pupils are blown. “Can I?” You inch closer to him, and he nods. You spread the precum leaking from the tip with your thumb. On an impulse, you lick the remainder off your finger, smirking when you hear his sharp intake of breath.

A bitter saltiness greets your tastebuds, but it’s milder than you anticipated. You well up some saliva in your mouth and use it to lubricate your hand to begin stroking. Slow, firm pumps have him twitching against your palm.

“Faster, please,” he groans, jerking his hips upwards to match your strokes.

“Ooh, so you do know how to be polite,” you say as you tighten your grip and increase the pace. Guts’s chest rises and falls faster than before.

His face distorts in a mixture of disbelief and pleasure. “Shut the fuck up,” he grunts, nose scrunching.

You laugh and rub his thighs soothingly. “Just this once,” and you take as much of his length into your mouth as you can manage. Running your tongue across the underside of his cock, you widen your jaw to avoid scraping him with your teeth. Anything you can’t fit gets stroked by your hands. Glancing up, you notice him watching you with a tenderness that’s been rare as of late.

He’s been worrying and training almost to the point of obsession. You want to ease that ache in his chest and have him forget momentarily about all you’ve gone through together. Although, judging from how his eyes are starting to glaze over, your objective doesn’t seem that far away.

It started out small, but now the walls echo with his moans and breathy whines. Each sound is like a lightning bolt between your thighs, burning you with strikes of pleasure. You bring a hand down to play with your clit, hoping to ease the ache.

His cock pulsates in your mouth. His entire body starts shuddering, and you know he’s close. So you slow to a halt and chortle at his frustration. The look he gives you could wither the low-level spirits that hang around. Taking a breath, you inch slowly down to take more of his cock, chest brimming with pride at how his body immediately tenses.

“You’re going to kill me here, my love,” he groans, hips stuttering between pulling away and pushing further in.

You slide your mouth off his cock and lick your lips, massaging his balls with your hand. “I want to milk as much of your cum as I can and drink it all,” you say, rubbing your thumb against the tip. You feel a twitch against your fingers and smirk. “Seems like you’re on board with my plan.”

One of his large, warm hands is placed against your head, stroking your hair. You close your eyes and lean into his touch. “Not the only place I’d like to fill you up,” he says, and you can hear the grin in his tone.

“Are you sure you can last that long?” you ask, and his fingers cheekily tug on your hair. The gesture draws a chuckle from you. You open your eyes to see him full of amusement.

“You’re underestimating the stamina of a great swordsman,” he boasts.

You raise a brow. That’s a big claim. “Hm? Then why don’t you show me what your sword can do?” You straddle his hips, your drenched cunt seated against the shaft of his cock. It twitches against you, and you bring a hand down to tease the leaking tip.

“Change of plans?” Guts asks, tone wavering as you slowly pump his cock.

You hum, “I’m feeling a little impatient today.”

“What happened to milking me for all I’m worth?” The cockiness in his tone returns. “Going back now on those big claims?”

You chuckle and flick the head of his cock, watching Guts writhe in response. “You’re trying to rile me up, but it’s not working,” you say.

“Can you blame me? You’re irresistible when you get all fired up,” he says,

You line up the tip of his cock with your entrance, slowly sinking down until his entire length is inside you. “Sorry to disappoint, but the only one losing their cool today is you.”

You start bouncing your hips, finding a steady rhythm to keep. Angling your body, his cock drags against your walls in all the right places. Guts begins aiming his thrusts when he notices how you cry out each time he hits the mark.

Guts groans, face screwed tight in concentration. “You’re gonna squeeze me to death,” he moans.

You smirk, running your hands across his chest. “It took you this long to realize my intentions?”

He responds with an airy laugh. “You always were a damn good strategist.”

“And you’re living up to your title, General,” you say, feeling a twitch inside you. “Oh? You like it when I call you that, don’t you?”

Guts looks at you with a sheepish grin. “If I say I do, will you call me that more often?” he asks.

You hum, tracing his abs with your fingertips. “I’ll consider it, but it would have to be sparingly. Don’t want to inflate your ego too much,” you tease. A spank smarts your ass. The sting is quickly soothed by a gentle massage. You retaliate with slow, deep thrusts, grinning when Guts curses and loses his ability to form sentences.

His cock throbs inside you, swelling up in preparation for his release. Guts’s fingers are bruising your hips, and he’s rutting into you. Slamming yourself down, you remain seated.

“Fuck, I was so close,” he groans, cock twitching in your warm cunt.

“I know. That’s why I stopped,” you say.

Guts looks at you with betrayal. “You, my dear, are a cruel lover.”

You tsk and clench tightly around him. “I may be a bit mean, but never cruel.”

“If this isn’t cruelty, then wha—“

You cut him off with a roll of your hips, successfully speech-jamming him. “You’ll see,” you say.

You continue drawing out his release, bringing Guts near the edge only to wrench him away. You’ve lost count—not that you were even counting in the first place—of how many potential orgasms you’ve robbed him of. But from the sour gleam in his eyes, a few too many.

Any of his attempts to take over the pace are thwarted when you turn into an immovable object. The loss of friction is not deemed a worthwhile risk because Guts soon lets you have your way after only a few attempts.

“Good boy,” you purr, a chuckle tickling the back of your throat. “Look at you, getting turned on when so much as a compliment is awarded.” You drag your fingers down his chest, sloping along the defined ridges of his muscles. “It’s kind of cute,” you admit.

Guts watches you through hooded lids, mouth parting as incoherent pleas spill between his lips. You tsk and twist your lips into a mock frown. “Oh no. Did I wear you down already?” You cradle his face in your hand, brushing your thumb across his cheek. “I can feel you throbbing inside me. Do you want to cum?” you ask, receiving a shudder in response when you roll your hips.

“Mhmm,” he grunts, nodding in fervour. Guts runs his hands along your thighs, gently squeezing the soft flesh. “Please,” he adds politely.

You hum and slow your movements. “Do you deserve to?”

It’s borderline hilarious to watch the gears in his head turn. The vacant look in his eyes shifts as they widen. “I do,” he says, but the slight wobble in his tone is tinged with nerves.

You can’t stop the grin forming on your face and opt to kiss his damp forehead to hide it. “Relax,” you hush, “I’ll let you cum……

“…eventually.”

Guts groans and slides a hand between your thighs, fingers searching for your clit. You clench tightly around him when he taps it gently with his thumb. “Looks like the blood’s starting to rush back into the right head”—Guts slams his hips upwards, nearly winding you—“Ow, fuck! Ok, ok. No more jokes during sex.” You wince from your sore abdomen. “I’ll cut you a deal,” you pause to gain his attention. “If you make me orgasm within the next ten minutes, I’ll let you cum.”

“You can’t take back your word,” he grunts through gritted teeth. You squeal, arms flailing to wrap around his neck when he flips you onto the ground. There’s a pregnant pause as you stare into each other's eyes. Warm. There’s so much warmth in his gaze for you. “Beautiful,” he says, running his fingers along your face.

Your chest squeezes tight. You turn your head, feeling the cool stone floor press against your burning cheeks. “9 minutes,” you say. Guts clicks his tongue and lifts one of your legs over his shoulder. He angles his thrusts, ramming into the deepest parts of you. The inferno consuming your body melts your bones to liquid.

“With the sounds you’re making, it won’t be long,” he grunts. You clench tightly around him like a vice. Every well-aimed thrust sends your walls pulsating around his cock. The familiar tightening in your stomach takes hold and threatens to tear you asunder. “Fuck you look so good like this, I don’t think I can hold out much longer.”

You feel calloused fingers brush against your clit, and a bolt of electricity strikes the base of your spine. He chuckles at the way your body curls open like a flower, eager to meet the sun’s rays. When your hips raise to meet him halfway, who is he to deny you of more pleasure?

He brings a finger to his mouth, groaning at your lingering taste on his skin. Before you know it, the building pleasure threatens to burst. He rolls your clit between his fingers, applying constant pressure. Your eyes nearly roll into the back of your head.

How much time was left? Gods, you don’t remember anymore. All you can think about is how you’re a second away from release.

The intensity drops. Guts’s thrusts remain deep; his cock drags along your walls in a sweet, slow torture. The flames licking your body from the inside are dying, but the embers are stoked just enough to keep the fire going. “You wouldn’t dare,” you seethe between clenched teeth. The muscles in your jaw are almost as tense as the knot in your stomach.

“Who says I wouldn’t?” Guts remarks calmly. A slight chill creeps up your spine, and you begin to sweat for reasons other than physical exertion.

“But then you don’t get to cum,” you say, trying to build a counterargument to sway him. You were so close; you needed just a little more to get there. In all honesty, both of you knew that if he really wanted to, Guts could easily ignore the bet. But that would mean destroying the mutual trust you spent years building. And you know both of you would rather die than betray the other.

“You said within the next ten minutes, I still have two left.” He slaps your pubic mound lightly, fingers resting above your swollen clit. “It’s not like you specified a time, only a period. So it doesn’t matter if there’s only a second left as long as you cum before it’s over.”

You shudder. What have you done?

Guts begins mumbling to himself. Between the grunts and groans, you can just barely make out a decreasing string of numbers. He’s seriously counting down the seconds he has left before the bet is over??

You arch your back, fingers fisting the stone floor with nothing to ground you. “Fuck me,” you sigh, lifting your hips to feel his cock brush against that sensitive spot.

“Already am,” Guts rasps, wiping the sweat from your brow. “Any other requests?”

“Yeah, fuck me harder.”

He leans down to plant a kiss on your damp forehead. “As you wish.”

And fuck you harder he does. You swear you must be above the clouds with all the stars you see. The slap of flesh echoes in your ears, filled with strained grunts and moans. You like it when Guts is vocal; it makes you feel like you’re doing a good job. One of the quickest ways he can turn you on is by moaning your name, which he’s doing right now. His breathy sighs as your name slips out of his mouth repeatedly like a prayer… it drives you crazy.

There’s only one thought in your mind; it overtakes all the others. You’re on the brink of an orgasm, standing at the edge of a cliff as you wait for the final push. “M’ close,” you say. Your clit throbs, and you feel a tug in your navel as the pressure builds.

“Then let’s bring you closer.” He slowly increases the pace, and your nails claw his back, leaving scratches in their wake. “I want you to look at me when you come undone. Can you do that for me?” You nod, eyes nearly rolling into the back of your head when he rubs your clit. “Good.” His fingers maintain pace, and he consistently rams his cock against your g-spot.

Your body thrums with pleasure, ready to come undone at his command. Guts wraps a hand around your throat and squeezes gently. He wasn’t affecting your oxygen supply, but fuck did it do things to you. His thrusts become deeper, pounding into you at a steady rhythm.

That was all it took to shove you off the edge. Your walls spasm around his cock in a toe-curling orgasm. All you can focus on is the waves of mind-numbing pleasure crashing into you, the force of the undertow sweeping you away.

Guts continues to thrust, helping you ride out your orgasm. As you come down from your high, dizzy and lightheaded, you feel his cock swell inside you. He pulls out, pumping his cock as his warm seed spills onto your stomach.

You laugh a breathy chuckle, staring at the mess he made. “I think I need another bath,” you say.

Guts kisses the top of your head and says, “Then let’s get cleaned up.” He scoops an arm underneath your knees and wraps the other around your back.

“Guts!”

“Don’t worry. I won’t drop you,” he says, walking towards the pool. Wading in, he brings you to the stream of water. Already, the spray of droplets is freezing against your skin. You shudder and cling closer to Guts and the heat he radiates. “I’ll help you wash up,” and he lowers your legs, a hand still resting on the small of your back.

“I am capable of washing myself,” you say. Hopefully, the rising sun made the water at least slightly more tolerable. But from how it feels like your feet are encased in ice, you don’t have much hope.

Guts cups some water in his hands and pours it onto your shoulders. “I know you can, but I want to,” he says, kissing the side of your temple. “So stop being stubborn and let me help you.”

You roll your bottom lip between your teeth. “I don’t kn—“ Guts flicks water at your face with a smirk. You pause, your brain struggling to process what happened. “You!” Your eyes narrow into a glare.

Guts bolts, his laughter reverberating the cave walls. You run after him, but it’s difficult despite the water reaching only your calves. Guts is somehow brute forcing his way, but you adapt a weird mixture of hopping and running to catch up.

Once you’re within arm's length of Guts, you kick up the water, successfully splashing him. The smug grin on your face falters when he turns around with a mischievous glint in his eyes. He moves only a single step before your flight instincts take over.

Your heart is thumping against your chest, thundering in your ears. His fingertips brush against your spine, and you squeal, dodging to the side. Large splashes grow closer and closer. But they suddenly stop. And amid your confusion, you stop running.

Looking over your shoulder, you see no sign of Guts except a few ripples in the water where you expected him to be.

“Got ya!” Big, strong hands wrap around your waist, and the ground disappears beneath your feet. The world spins in a whirlwind of lights and cool shades of blue and purple. As your surroundings grind to a halt, warm arms pull you into an embrace. Your laughter is dampened by his hug, and you blink to quell the dizziness.

You stare into his eyes, watching black swallow brown. He brings a hand up to cup your cheek. “Shower?” you whisper, unwilling to break the stillness. If the universe would let you, you would spend every day like this with him. To wake and sleep together, sharing the mundane moments of life and experiencing the little pockets of joy as they occur. But that’s not the kind of world you live in— not if Griffith has anything to say about it.

Guts leans forward to plant a kiss on your forehead. “Yeah, let’s get cleaned up.” He guides you back to the waterfall, fingers intertwined. You follow him without resistance. All the running around has warmed you up, but that only makes the water feel colder. Guts is careful as he washes you. “I know it’s cold, but you’re being so good for me,” he coos. His hands firmly glide across your skin. You feel him pause to trace the scars on your body, gently tracing the thin lines on your lower abdomen. His touch dips down between your thighs, and you part them.

He does nothing more than clean up the mess he made, but you’re still sensitive. Little tremors run through your body, the aftershocks of your ground-shaking orgasm. Guts surprises you with a kiss on your neck. You swear this man is trying to kill you with his affection. With the uncomfortable slickness gone, you lean against Guts and relish in him pampering you. If only you had brought more soap. You could have asked him to wash your hair.

“Done?” he asks, to which you nod. Guts picks you up again and carries you to dry land, where he dries you off with the towel again. “Arms up,” he commands. And before you know it, a shirt is pulled over your head. The fabric still smells like him. Smoke from a fire pit and the medicinal scent of herbs from his ointment. You glance over and watch him put on his pants. Your eyes trail along the scars on his body. Most of them have healed nicely, but they’ll always remain to remind you how close to death you were that night.

Your fingers absentmindedly rest against the area of your brand. Before you can slip into a spiral, Guts calls out your name. His brows are furrowed, and his eyes are focused on where your hand is. “I’ll be fine,” you insist. You’re unsure if he believes you, but he nods and doesn’t pry further.

Your eyes begin to droop, and a big yawn escapes your mouth. “I think it’s time to rest,” Guts says. Luckily, your sleeping arrangements aren’t too far. With Rickert’s help, Erica was able to find a larger bedroll for you and Guts to share. You never voiced the thought out loud, but you liked the closeness it forced. Something about sleeping in his arms brought you a sense of peace and security.

When he holds you at night, the nightmares leave you in peace. The screams quiet, and the stench of iron is replaced with cedar and smoke. The arms around your waist are tender. Guts is like a kiln; you’re dry clay—fragile at first but robust after exposure to his warmth.

“Why’re you looking at me like that?” Guts asks, petting your hair. You’re lying in bed, limbs tangled like vines wrapped around a tree.

The corners of your lips curl up. “Like what?”

Guts leans his forehead against yours. “Like I’m everything to you. That’s my job,” he says.

You’re smiling so much your cheeks ache. “I love you.”

Guts mirrors your smile. His hand slides down to cup your face. You can feel his breath tickle your skin. His eyes dart to your parted lips before closing the gap.

The kiss is slow and tender. Soft, pliable lips that leave you panting for air. Guts trails his mouth along your jawline, leaving a path of fire as he moves to the hollow of your throat.

You can’t help but let out a content sigh when he pays attention to the sensitive area. Your cheeks tingle at the thought of waking up and being greeted with a new mark. Guts plants one last kiss on your collarbone before drawing you closer to him.

“I love you so much,” he mumbles into your skin. You snuggle into him, wanting his scent to envelop you. His next words are so quiet you almost miss them. “Promise me you won’t leave, too.”

Your heart stutters in your chest. You look into his eyes and see a reflection of what you’ve become. His dark circles fare no better than yours, and that vengeful spark has dulled, having been weathered over time by grief.

You lost your friends and family, but so did he.

With the brand carved into your skin and the spirits waiting around every corner to devour you…. “You know I can’t promise you that,” you say, and you hate how your words feel like a punch to your own gut.

“Then lie to me and promise anyway,” he whispers, staring at you through glossy eyes.

You bite your lip but refuse to look away. Raising a hand to wipe his tears, you say, “I promise to stay for as long as I’m able.”

Guts nods, soothed by your response. “Rest. I’ll keep us safe.”

Us. The word sends your heart a flutter. You shift into a comfortable position and drift into darkness, dreaming of campfires and starry skies for once.

End Note:

It's like I can't decide whether I want the fic to be sad, happy, or horny. So why not all three?

I also decided to bite the bullet and get image dividers, because trying to get center formatting and having it stay consistent across platforms is tiring. Do they look ok? I got them from a Tumblr post by @/saradika if anyone wanted to know.

I have no idea when my next work will come out. I already have some fics queued up and knowing myself, I'll either speed right through them, or drag them out too long and lose interest lol

I'll see you guys at my next hyperfixation! (。・∀・)ノ

Reblogs are appreciated!

#guts x reader #guts x reader smut #berserk x reader #berserk fic #berserk #afab reader #otherwise gender neutral #no y/n #fluff and smut #Angst #But just a smidge #It helps season the fic #This sat in my drafts way too long #Why is writing smut so hard #Why can't I have some sort of divine oracle to enlighten me?#Time to yeet this into the void and never look back

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actual-changeling · 8 months

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the true weight of aziraphale's words only hits him days later, when the shock has worn off and the world no longer looks vivid-sharp and fragmented.

just like the old times, only even nicer, and back in the bookshop, hearing him say it for the first time, the heaven underneath it all had ripped him open. now, though, with heavy limbs and their respective speeches burned into his brain, syllable after syllable, it's the second part that re-opens those very same wounds.

was this not nice? he wants to ask him, the walls, fucking god herself—or scream, rather, he has grown rather fond of screaming—because he thought it had been, their life on earth. nice and soft and messy, full of arguments, yes, but also nights of laughter and shared heat. graveyard walks and afternoons in the park, eating at the ritz, feeding the ducks, basking in everything alive so they could feel alive, too.

crowley would have given him almost everything, followed him almost everywhere except the one place aziraphale wanted him to return to. after six thousand years, he had finally found the only thing crowley refused to give up—his freedom.

inch by inch, he had clawed his way out of hell and through more pain than he will ever be able to name, and the scars, the burn marks, the fresh air in his lungs are worth it, always have been and always will be. no longer an angel, never again, but not a demon either; he's been on his own side since the beginning.

crowley has thought of his existence as a shared one—theirs—but maybe, with his eyes opened and the truth bitter in his tongue, maybe they'd led two lives after all. one full of magic and fairy tales for aziraphale in which polishing away every spot and destroying every flaw would eventually create a perfect 'us'. he wanted to take him right back to the start, when mistakes didn't exist, when crowley didn't exist.

yet crowley, despite what he regularly told his plants, the mirror, himself, had never been chasing after something they did not have. love is just as flawed and messy as life, and he basks in traffic jams and cloudy days, in existing as his own person without any affiliation, occult, ethereal, or otherwise.

he had never wanted them to be perfect, just undeniably real. in the end, even that was too much to foolishly hope for, a lesson once learned branded into his skin anew:

ask and you shall lose.

#alex writes good omens #good omens #crowley #aziraphale #good omens season 2 #go2 #aziracrow #crowley x aziraphale #ineffable husbands #ineffable wives #ineffable spouses #ineffable divorce #the final fifteen #hey do you ever cry so hard your body stops being able to do so and then write trauma angst because you'll never guess what happened to me

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dangerdazee · 2 months

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descendants: rise of red one-shot, in which uliana is not as big and bad as her "friends" lead her to believe

Uliana walks in front, a couple feet ahead, and the other four villains follow behind. They whisper as they walk.

"Goblin pastry? That's her plan?" Hook crosses one arm over his chest, propping up the arm with a hook and letting it sit up by face.

"How were our ideas not worse than that?" Hades questions.

"I'd much rather eat a little pastry than burn to a crisp." Morgie raises his eyebrows and purses his lips.

"Maybe there's more to the plan than just the cupcake." Hook's attempt to give Uliana the benefit of the doubt is not well-received.

"It's Uliana. You know there's not." Hades smirks.

Maleficent smacks her boyfriend on the arm.

"Hey!"

"Don't say that." But Maleficent's laugh doesn't really match her words.

"What's all the talking back there?!" Uliana stops abruptly and whips around, her hair flying.

"Nothing." Maleficent, Hades, Hook, and Morgie say in unison.

As soon as Uliana turns back around and the group of five continue walking, the four in the back stifle laughs.

Uliana thinks she's big, bad, and scary. She thinks all of the people in her little entourage are terrified of her and bow to her.

She couldn't be more wrong.

Why she ever expected evil personified to not be playing a cruel joke on her is beyond them. But she's been falling for it, hook (no pun intended,) line, and sinker.

It was Maleficent's idea first. When the five of them began to form a solid group, Maleficent immediately noticed Uliana's insecurity and confidence issues.

A good friend would try to be supportive and helpful, but this is Maleficent. She saw it as an opportunity to have a good laugh.

One day, the facade will fall and Uliana will be humiliated and the outcome of this evil prank will bring them great joy. But, honestly, they find it just as fun and satisfying to laugh behind her back about it.

"Should we even be getting back at Princess Perky?" Hades throws his arm over Maleficent's shoulders as they continue walking and whispering.

"Why? Are you going all soft?"

"Gross, no. The flamingo thing was just really funny." Hades gives a sly smile.

Uliana stops as someone calls her name. It's a teacher, so she's more inclined to actually pay attention and go. She tells the others to go on and she'd meet them later.

As soon as Uliana is out of earshot, Maleficent pipes up again.

"We could always... sabotage." Maleficent's face reveals that she's thinking hard.

"Bridget?"

"No- How would that make sense?" Hook pats Morgie on the shoulder, taking a bit of the edge off of his correction. "No, she means we could sabotage Uli's plan."

"Exactly."

"How?" Morgie asks.

"I'm not entirely sure yet. But we have a few hours left to figure it out."

Hook glances over at Uliana, seeing her angry and frustrated as the teacher speaks to her. Hook can only assume that she's not doing well in a class.

"Look, look. Look how upset she is." Maleficent, Morgie, and Hades turn their attention that direction and chuckle along. "Never gets old."

It would be only a couple years later that Uliana realizes what's been going on.

The anger in her was only beaten out by humiliation.

Suddenly, all these people who she thought feared her were making her feel small. And weak. It was as if they grew ten feet tall.

All the strength and power she thought she possessed dwindled down to almost nothing.

Uliana felt like her whole life was a lie, while Maleficent, Hades, Hook, and Morgie all laughed and had a grand time. They reveled in the result of their game.

Part of Uliana wondered if she deserved it.

[ @ladyoftheesun here it is! might rewrite sometime to improve it, and i'll tag you again if i do unless you tell me not to! ]

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p1x1x · 2 months

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in a desperate conflict, with a ruthless enemy

#my art #arcaea #hikaritsu #uh. i got lazy but i still wanted the vibe #just a little .tension u know…#i wanna draw angst instead though but who knows when i’ll get to that #sorry for my fanart being all over the place—i got sucked into rhythm gaming…#quote is from “conflict” — siromaru + cranky… bc it fits and its in the game!#on the illness meter they somehow made me write something but im not sharing here… (not good anyway…)#but that’s very rare so. um these rhythm game lesbians hit a braincell Hard #they had some potential toxic yuri bits but the angst is great to me... i want them to be happy...#hikari #tairitsu

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from-the-clouds · 2 years

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moonlight on the river - joel miller x reader

masterlist | song inspo

summary: Joel has been many things to you. A dealer, a mentor, a friend, a lover. Lately, it’s the latter. Sometimes he’s none of those things, or a handful of them, or all of them at once. And it’s up to the both of you to decide in the moment which things are true. Takes place during episode one of the TV series. pairing: joel miller x f!reader words: 2.4k warnings: angst, fluff, good ol' fashioned hurt/comfort. depressive thoughts, reader sort of has a death wish, references to alcohol/drug abuse, death, loss of family members & loved ones. implied age gap, references to casual sex, heavy petting (no smut). a/n: it's been months since i posted a fic on here! some of my best work comes when it’s 2am, i’m emo and touch-deprived and i have an 8am appointment so i stay up until 5am to write. this was actually supposed to be fully a fluff piece but the angst queen had to strike.

You wish you could drown in the pile of blankets you’ve wrapped yourself in. Wish the couch would swallow you whole, like a whale, then drag you down to the deepest depths of the ocean and leave you there until you can’t hold your breath any longer, until the cold pricks the tips of your fingers and toes, until you succumb completely.

But in some ways, you’re already existing like that, in the sea-level equivalent of the Marianas Trench. One of those sea creatures that look not of this Earth, features warped – adapting, evolving, surviving, despite your environment’s best efforts to eradicate. Your mother had once shown them to you in her old textbooks and shown you the photos of anglerfish, frilled sharks, phantom jellyfish. The memory of your mother makes you wince, and you try to think of something else.

How anyone else around you managed to put on a brave face and make their way through each day was beyond your comprehension, even though you do it, too. They probably all feel the same way about it as you do, but no one talks about the collective trauma you’re all slogging through. No one has anything new to add, and it’s foolish to believe that anyone’s insight could somehow take the pain away. Even if you have a chance to tell your story, there is always someone who has it worse.

Get in line.

Exhausted as you are, you don’t sleep much. Most of your nights are spent at the precipice of unconsciousness, and you can never quite make it over the edge, the helicopters, radios, sporadic gunfire always manages to rouse you first. When you do manage to sleep, you’re plagued with nightmares. You prefer perpetual fatigue.

A knock at your door comes suddenly, and you start, sitting up quickly – but quietly – to not alert the unexpected guest that someone might be in the tiny studio you call home. It’s well after dark, which makes you doubt that whoever, or whatever is at the door, isn’t there for a friendly drop-in or a cup of tea, not that friendly drop-ins or cups of tea ever happened.

But before you grow too panicked, your name is muttered, accompanied by another impatient rap of knuckles against the hollow wood. It’s a familiar rasp, even-toned and calm, and your shoulders sag in relief before you abandon your post on the couch.

“Joel?” you ask softly, squinting in the dim light of the hallway through the crack in the door. He doesn’t look any different, though it’s been about a month since you’d last seen him. You’re not sure what to expect, but he’s the same as always, wearing a worn, tight denim shirt and fraying jeans. He looks tired, but you can’t recall a time when he doesn’t. Everyone looks tired all the time, it just only concerns you because it’s him.

Not waiting for an invite, he steps through the small opening you allot for him and into your place, wordlessly.

“What the fuck, Joel, it’s past curfew are you trying to get yourself killed?”

“I’ve done worse,” he says, dismissively, and yanks the door from your hand to close and lock it behind him.

You don’t argue with him. You rarely do – which you think is partly why he likes you – but especially now, you don’t have the energy. And when you do, he’s too stubborn to listen.

Joel has been many things to you. A dealer, a mentor, a friend, a lover. Lately, it’s the latter. Sometimes he’s none of those things, or a handful of them, or all of them at once. And it’s up to the both of you to decide in the moment which things are true.

So when he steps forward, crowding you backwards until your rear hits your kitchen countertop and you have nowhere to go, you don’t ask questions.

His hand cradles your chin, tilting it back to look into his sad eyes, and he kisses you. For a split second, it’s chaste, and you’re almost confused, until it’s suddenly not, and his grip on your jaw tightens, his lips parting. Joel stakes his claim, his free hand winding into your hair and pulling. You sigh, closing your eyes.

He moves both his hands to cup your ass through the flimsy athletic shorts you’re wearing, lifting your hips up and against him, making to carry you to the bed, or maybe even take you on the countertop – it could be one of those days. Everything he’s doing would normally light you on fire, and there’s a primal instinct that’s telling you you like it, but for some reason, you hesitate.

Joel senses it right away. You’re not sure how. And you don’t want him to. You’re prepared to submit, even though you feel numb everywhere, because you hope for the chance to feel something, anything other than what you’ve felt the last few days. He pauses, too, pulls back.

You expect to meet his eyes when you look up at him, but they are fixed on something else. Tugging on the collar of his shirt, you try to kiss him again, but he doesn’t budge, until you follow his eyes. An empty bottle of liquor sits on the bar behind you. Fuck.

“You’re drinking again.” It’s not a question.

“That was actually from yesterday,” you say, like it would make any difference. The remnants of a hangover have been tweaking your temples all day, biting the back of your eyes. It was half empty when I got it. It was just one night. I can have a couple drinks without getting out of control. Your brain cycles through several more excuses before you decide not to waste your breath.

“What did I tell you about this?” He reached behind you and lifted the bottle, holding it in front of your face like you hadn’t been able to see it clearly enough before.

“You should talk,” you don’t like being cruel, but you’re already desperate to end the discussion. He’s probably drunk or high right now, but it’s none of your business, and you’d given up trying to save him a long time ago.

You shift your weight to lower yourself off the counter and move away from him and the once-inviting warmth of his embrace. Joel doesn’t let you make it far, reaching out to grip your upper arm and tugging you back to face him with little-to-no effort on his part. His strength always startled you, even though it shouldn’t, considering his size. It also should’ve scared you, but the manhandling mostly just turned you on. Not enough that you were going to keep letting him lecture you.

“It’s different. You’re still so young.”

“What does that matter?”

He doesn’t have an answer.

You lift your chin, squaring up to him. “That’s what I thought.”

He puts his hand on hip and studies you carefully. Despite your attitude, you’ve never liked disappointing him. He’s the closest thing you have to a father, which you can recognize is an awfully fucked up way to feel about someone you regularly have sex with, but you lived in an awfully fucked up world.

There’s a wistfulness to Joel’s expression you’ve never seen before. He chooses to change the subject, and you’re thankful until what he says registers.

“I’m leaving town tomorrow night. You might not see me again.”

It takes a moment to process, but it hits you like a blow to the gut. So hard, you’re surprised you don’t stagger backwards with the force of it. Even when it settles, you know it hasn’t even sunk in all the way.

“Well…” you take a long, thoughtful pause, and offer the only thing that your brain can come up with, “....stay safe out there, then.”

“Yeah,” he runs his tongue over his teeth and squints at you. “You want to tell me what’s going on?”

Snorting, you know it’s important to remain as blase as possible so you don’t cry. Although, you don’t really cry anymore. Even when you want to, the tears never come. At some point, after watching every person you’ve ever cared for die in uniquely devastating ways, you must’ve reached your lifetime limit.

“I know you. Something’s up.”

No, you don’t! You want to scream, but that would be a lie. It’s been three years since you met, maybe one since your….arrangement, or whatever you’d call it, had begun.

How the two of you had become so close was a mystery even to you. It’s not like you were charming or charismatic, or willing to put up the innocent act. You didn’t try to inflate his ego, which most men loved. At first, you didn’t even really like him at all. That changed with time. Somewhere along the way, things just clicked.

“It’s nothing that no one has ever felt before,” you shrug. Joel has his fair….or rather unfair share of demons, and is the last person you want to complain to. Most of the time, he’s unflinchingly guarded, but he’s shared enough – secrets whispered in your ear while tangled in damp sheets, your hand on his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart – to make you wonder if you have it so bad. Focusing on a fixed point, a crack in the tiled floor, you avoid his eyes.

“Hey,” his voice pulls you back. “Don’t do that.”

“I’ll be okay,” you say. “I’m just having a d-a week.” A month, a year, a life. Reluctantly, you meet his gaze.

His face softens, his hand reaching to clasp with your own, thumb grazing across your palm. “Come here,” he murmurs. He pulls you against him tightly, tucking your head under his chin, his fingers weaving into your hair.

“You’re going to be alright. You’re a strong girl.” He’s too smart to believe that, you think. But it doesn’t stop you from pressing your lips against his sternum. His broad chest is sturdy, firm, and you close down your eyes.

Neither of you speak, and one of his hands begins to stroke your back in soothing circles. You stay wrapped in his arms for a long time. Long enough to think about how you might never get to do this again, and you suddenly want him in all the ways you never had him, and all the ways you had. Just one last time.

He presses a kiss to your temple. “I can tell you’re exhausted, baby. Let’s get you to bed.”

There’s no reason to protest, he’s right, so you let him lead you to the bed. You’re already in your pajamas, and he draws back the covers and tucks you underneath them carefully.

“You’re staying,” you say. It’s meant to be a question, but it comes out like command, and although you can’t stand the idea of pleading for it, would if you had to. You’re that desperate.

You hear the clunk of his boots landing on the floor, feel the dip of his weight on the opposite side of the bed.

“Of course,” he says softly, voice barely above a whisper as he slides underneath the covers.

Joel’s arm snakes around your waist, and you’re being pulled back against his chest. You wriggle to be closer, even though it’s not possible, his nose resting on the crown of your head, stroking your hair softly. He’s being so tender, so sweet, it makes you feel sick.

“What if I don’t want you to leave?” you turn your head slightly, so you can see him out of the corner of your eye. You want to be able to remember his face, in case you never see him again. He was handsome, you’d always thought that, even despite the years between you.

“It’s my brother. I don’t have much of a choice, baby.”

Joel had told you all about Tommy. You wished you could be resentful at his leaving to find his brother, but you knew you’d risk pretty much anything for the chance to see anyone in your family again.

You shake your head. “This…sucks.”

He offers a rare chuckle, one that vibrates through his chest and straight to the ache in your stomach that started when he told you he’d be leaving. “It does. I’m sorry.”

Joel sighs, his breath on the nape of your neck, and you shiver. “I’ll miss you.” It’s a simple truth you can hear in his voice without even needing to look in his eyes.

“I’ll miss you.” You reach for his hand.

You roll over to face him, his head propped on his opposite hand, looking down at you.

“You remember everything I taught you?” he asks. “Be smart, keep yourself safe.”

Joel had proven to be a pretty valuable resource when it came to survival skills. He’d taught you how to shoot a gun, to load and reload it, how to take it apart, clean it, and put it back together. You recalled the feeling of him leaning over your shoulder, adjusting your grip to shoot at a target. And even if most of his lessons in hand-to-hand combat resulted in him having his way with you on the kitchen floor – you didn’t mind it at all – you knew enough to defend yourself.

“I do,” you answer. “And I will.”

You think of all the time you’ve spent with him the past few years. How it has made things bearable. It’s likely the last time you’ll ever see him, and you know what you’re supposed to say. But for the life of you, you just can’t say it.

Instead, you lean in to kiss him, lazy and lingering, both your hands on the side of his face, palms pressed against the scruff of his beard. You pull away after awhile.

“Tell me about what it was like. Before all this.” When the outbreak began, you were just a child. It felt like a dream, your memory so fuzzy it was hard to recall anything except the worst parts.

Joel does, and you listen, captivated, though it’s not the first time you’ve heard it. For such a gruff man, he paints a pretty picture.

It’s easy to imagine what your life might be like if none of this had ever happened. It would have been better, infinitely better, for yourself, for Joel, for everyone. It would be better, but if it hadn’t happened, you wouldn’t have met him. For some reason, something about that doesn’t feel right.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #pedro pascal #tlou fanfic #tlou hbo #the last of us #fluff #angst #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x you #hi please read this and say nice things to me i worked really really hard on this #writing #fanfiction #joel miller imagine #joel miller tlou #joel miller the last of us #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst

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gt-daboss · 13 days

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Nightmares (Page 4)

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Secret poll underneath the readmore!!!

Trying out text bubbles for this one, LMK what you guys think, is it easier to read than just the plain text?

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maximumkillshot · 11 months

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"I Can't Lose You" Part 3

Warnings: This one is bad... Like bad bad. Uhm so please pay attention to these warnings. *Brings out a scroll with a solemn face.* Descriptions of Blood, Emergency medical procedure explainations, Shock, Grief, Chan gets shoved once, (IF YOU WANT NO SPOILERS AND KNOW YOU CAN HANDLE THE FIC CONTINUE) Child Loss, Descriptions of miscarriage.

Pairing: Bangchan x Reader

Characters: OC Doctor, Stray Kids, Reader

A/N: I know the cut is very high up but I needed to be sure that it wouldn't trigger someone would get triggered by the story. I am so sorry I am doing this to y'all. But here we are. Enjoy getting your heart ripped out? I guess. IF YOU WANT MORE TELL ME!

Also remember, this is a fan fic. All of the boys are so sweet IRL.

Stray Kids! Masterlist

Overall Masterlist

ALL WORK IS UNDER ME AND MY BLOG. DO NOT TRY TO REPUBLISH OR STEAL MY WORK, AS THAT IS COPYRIGHTED UNDER ME AND IS CONSIDERED COPYRIGHT INFRINGEMENT WHICH IS A PUNISHABLE OFFENSE.

ANY WORK THAT YOU SEE ON OTHER SITES THAT ARE MY WORKS PLEASE NOTIFY ME IMMEDIATELY.

Previously:

You looked at Bin and Han and begged them to stay. Both of them looked at the doctor and said that whatever was happening, they weren't leaving. The doctor could see that you really needed them and as long as they were not in the way, it didn’t matter whether they were here or not.

After the nerve block and the procedure, the doctor cleaned you up and draped a warm blanket over you, while the nurses hooked up a transfusion and closely monitored you. The doctor asked for Bin in the hall while Han went right back to your hand without the IV in it, so he could hold it properly.

Bin tried to ignore it during the procedure but the look that the doctor had on his face when he was doing the preliminary exam was haunting. Whatever he was called out here for… it wasn’t good.

NOW:

Once both Bin and the Doctor were in the hall and closed the sliding door separating you from the bustling main hallway, Bin got that feeling again. That sick feeling that something was wrong. The doctor looked like he was trying to stay professional.

It was then that Bin noticed the doctor's wedding ring. He wondered to himself if the doctor was like Bin. So deep in love that seeing anyone else doesn’t just feel blasphemous, but it’s so out of the question it’s nauseating. The doctor began.

“Are you her husband?” He asked.

“No…” Bin replied. He could feel the bile rising in his throat with that one question. He immediately thought, If I was this never would’ve happened.

“Are you family?” The doctor looked at him.

“Yes. Are they okay?” Bin looked at the doctor.

“She lost a lot of blood, through something called a hemorrhage. It’s a rare complication especially this early on. She wouldn’t have made it if this happened at home. But it’s under control now.” the doctor said. He seemed to be trying to be as sympathetic as possible, making the next question sting more.

“Okay, and the baby?” Bin asked as he was trying to hold on to the possibility, some shred of hope that you and the baby were okay. He didn’t want the answer to be…

“I’m sorry.” The doctor slowly shook his head as he bowed his head slightly. The doctor looked guilty, like this was the worst part of his job, not being able to save someone.

“How? Why?” Bin asked as it felt like his heart twisted. He didn’t know how you were going to get through this. He knew you too well. He knew that the pain you were about to feel, the emotional pain, would spell your demise... Bin couldn’t wouldn’t let that happen.

“There is a cause-and-effect relationship that stress, extreme traumatic stress, like what you described, can cause a mis--” “Please don’t finish that word.” Bin pleaded with tears in his eyes. That word. He’s never hated a word in his life, until now. A word like that, even the word Death is kinder. To die you need to have lived in the first place, breathe air, feel emotions, like happiness, fear, love… None of those things happened for your child, through no fault of their mother. The same woman he’s staring at, the very same woman he always stared at.

“The fact that she went through the shock as well as the prolonged stress after that shock, and didn’t have any previous symptoms of that happening prior to that, rules out all of the other options.” he paused and looked at his ring. Bin could tell what he was thinking, the doctor’s jaw tight, I could never dream of doing that, then continued, “You know her better than I do. Will she need something to calm her down?”

“Yes… but I don’t think she’ll accept it.” Bin looked back at you and Han. You looked so out of it. Like you were and were not there simultaneously. He has never seen you like this. From what he could see it looked like Han was doing his best to distract you. He was playing with your fingers as he joked.

It was convincing enough to relax you, but Bin knew better. His eyes are always so expressive, if he's genuinely relaxed, his eyes show it. Bin could tell that Han was many things at this point in time, and worry free was not one of them.

“Would you like to tell her?” the doctor asked. That question made Bin think a little bit. If he did tell you, he didn't know if you'd believe him. It's easier to ignore reality when the person breaking the news isn't a doctor. You'd accept it if it came from the doctor.

“She’ll believe it if you say it… Just have the medicine on standby. Also, what do we do to help her? What’s next?” He asked.

“Well like I said her bleeding was extensive... I want to keep her for at least a full 24 hours, in case the bleeding starts again. I’ll also arrange for her to meet with the OBGYN during that time as well, to make sure we got all of the tissue out, that way there’s no chance of another hemorrhage or infection. Sounds like a plan?” The doctor asked.

“Yes… thank you." Bin took a deep breath before he went in, the doctor trailing behind him.

The doctor closed the sliding door as Bin looked at you, then at Han briefly. He lowered the guardrail and made eye contact with Han, who mirrored his actions shortly after.

“Mrs. Y/L/N” the doctor began but you cut him off.

“My baby. Please tell me my baby’s okay… please,” the urgency written on your face.

Han's eyes were set on Changbin. The minute you asked that question, Bin lowered his head, jaw tight, and tears were already beginning to form. When Bin looked at Han, he already knew.

The doctor looked at you and said “I...I’m so sorry.”

Your face showed nothing but confusion… you had just gotten the first ultrasound. You had it done a week ago. No, you saw your baby.

“Y/N” Bin asked gently. He saw the look on your face, and it killed him. Seeing your brain reach for any other outcome other than the one right in your face. He tucked some stray strands of hair behind your ear as he watched and waited for the understanding to reach your face, it didn’t.

“No, it can’t be, I just got the ultrasound done. No,” you replied.

Han and Bin looked at each other. Han's eyebrows dipped, as he processed and tried to brace for impact. Bin on the other hand, was willing himself to take a step back, knowing that you needed to hear this. It had to get through, that's the only way you could start healing.

The doctor looked solemn as he said, “Mrs. Y/L/N I could tell that you were and still are contracting. The reason why your body is doing it, from what I can discern, is because your body went through extreme stress and emotional trauma, when that happens this early, your body rejects the pregnancy. That does not mean that this is your fault, it's the opposite. It’s completely out of your control.”

Bin could see the cogs turning in your brain as you slowly started shaking your head. Reality starting to seep in. Bin wished that you didn't have to go through this. That you got the fairytale ending without the heartbreak. That you didn't have to face the death of your own child. That pain, anguish, and suffering.

The doctor continued, “There is an even rarer condition in which the body rejecting the pregnancy ends in a condition called a hemorrhage. It’s a technical term for excessive bleeding, in this case, it happened because your body is trying to expel the tissues in your cervix. Because it was so sudden, your cervix didn’t have time to open. When I examined you, you weren’t even at half a centimeter dilation, and all of that tissue was trying to be expelled. That was why I had to do that procedure, to get the tissue out so bleeding could be minimized. I’m so sorry… but you had a miscarriage.”

Once that word was said the scream that you let out was something that Han nor Bin have ever heard in their lives. It was soul-crushing. Both of them could hear your heart breaking, shattered on the ground. Bin and Han wanted nothing more than to pick up those pieces and fix it. They knew that they couldn't, this is a hurt they can't fix.

Han held you as you screamed, begged, pleaded… You looked at Bin. “Bin please, look at me. Please tell me it's not true… Please you don’t lie to me, I know you'll tell the truth pleeease.”

Bin looked at you, “I can’t tell you it’s not true. I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry.” The look of devastation on his face only sealed the fact. Bin has never lied to you so why would he start now? Especially with something as serious as whether or not you had a miscarriage.

The look that painted his face, brows upturned as his eye contact was nothing short of empathetic. You could tell he wanted to lie.

He wanted it to be false, that it was just some freak minor bleeding… that the baby was okay…he wanted it so badly… but you can't want something into existence.

That realization hit you in a split second as the monitors that were connected to you, measuring vitals, started going off. You could feel nothing but pain. The involuntary gnawing, pulling pain. The blood, the cold from lack of blood in your body…The physical agony was nothing compared to what you felt in that split second.

Your heart rate was literally too fast for you to register, pain surging through you as comprehension slammed into you like a tsunami. The baby is gone. Your baby. Your heart rate was through the roof and the doctor went to your IV.

“Y/N I’m going to give you something to calm you down okay? Your heart can’t take this stress, it’ll give out.” The doctor pushed the medication.

“I want my baby…Bin I want my baby… Han please, my baby.” You sobbed as you held on to Han.

All Bin could do was say, “I know you do, I’m so sorry. I’m here. I’m sorry.”

Han got on the gurney with you and cradled you. He cried with you. Prayed that it was just a nightmare. Han looked to Bin, only to find him trying to fight the tears that were falling down his face. Bin's soul was hurting for you, bargaining with whatever powers out there, to give himself up for you and your child. He knew it was irrational but if he could've, he would've.

As soon as the medicine kicked in your breathing started to slow. You still whimpered and cringed as you felt your body bearing down, still shaking slightly and cold to the touch. Han draped his jacket over you, resting you against his chest, singing to you, to calm you.

Every once in a while reality would crash into you again, you’d reach for Bin. You knew why you did, he was always there. He always understood you on a deeper level. Sometimes he knew what you needed when you didn’t even know you needed it.

Eventually he pulled up a chair and laid his head on his forearm, hand in yours and close to his lips. as he gently rubbed circles into your hand with his thumb. As soon as you’d squeeze that hand he’d squeeze back as he nuzzled into your hand. His way of letting you know that yes, this is the reality, but he is still here. Wordlessly, endlessly, he’d be here. Sometimes you’d comb your fingers through his hair, the feeling somewhat comforting.

You were so tired it went down to your bones. Sometimes only mustering a long blink at the pain. Eventually your vitals started looking good enough to transport.

The doctor came in with solemn reverence, like he was intruding on a funeral.“Y/N, we’re going to keep you overnight at the least, you’re going to have a visit from the OBGYN in the morning, okay? We have your bed ready so soon someone’s going to come to transport you.”

You just looked up at the doctor and nodded, “T-thank you” you hiccupped, “Hannie and Binnie are staying with me.”

“I’ve already put a cot in the room for them. I wish I could’ve done more,” he said with a sad smile. Bin got up and shook his hand, thanking him.

As soon as the transport nurses came to get you Bin said “I’ll see you in a bit. I just need to do something really quick.” you nodded and Bin kissed your forehead. He had to go back to the house. He didn’t know why immediately, just that he had to.

He was on autopilot the entire ride to the house, except for the red lights. He didn’t need to be strong at those lights. He’d scream where no one could hear him. Letting the pain out as images of you flashed. Smiling, then flashing to the scream you let out. Laughing, then sobbing in that hospital gurney. Cooking with him, to crying on Han.

His screams were from mourning, pain, and frustration. He mourned the baby and you. The pain for you, the pain of realizing all of the things that you won’t experience. The frustration of not being able to see it before. To protect you, guard you. He wanted to rip something… someone… apart. There. That was the impulse that drove him back to the house.

At the last red light, he breathed deep, not even wanting to. He used whatever force that was left over as he screamed one last time. Everything he did, your child would never experience. Every scream echoed, redoubling the anguish he had for the both of you. Culminating into this, silence as he turned the corner to the house.

To his surprise, all of the other member’s cars were still at the house when he pulled up. When he parked, he looked at the clock on his dashboard, it was 2 a.m. Had it been 6 hours already?

He felt his adrenaline kick up as he opened the door. He found everyone still wide awake, waiting for answers, but one look at Bin and they gathered what they needed.

Chan walked into the room from the kitchen and his jaw dropped upon seeing him.

“Bin…what happened?” Felix asked gently, hand’s slightly raised, as if approaching a wild animal. The aura on Bin wasn’t his aloof, goofy, self, it was the opposite; dark, threatening, dangerous. Bin’s eyes were trained on Chan, the closer he got, the more Bin felt his resolve slipping… Chan looked at him up and down, concern and horror written on his face. It was only then that Bin noticed he was covered in your blood.

His resolved snapped at that realization, upper lip ticking into a repressed snarl as he breathed “I’m… going to kill you.” He made a B-line to Chan. Felix, Minho, and Jeongin had to hold him back.

Once Bin realized he couldn’t get to Chan, he screamed, “Was it worth it?! HUH?!!” His veins were popping out under his skin as he struggled to get free, “Was it?! Tell me! You hurt and nearly killed the only person I’ve ever loved. She’s dead inside now, all thanks to you!” More flashes accompanied that sentence, him picking you up and watching you go limp, eyes fluttering.

Felix looked at Bin and said, “What?... Hyung..” Felix's voice trailed off, trying to process what he heard. Felix knew that if he heard Bin correctly…he couldn’t even complete that thought.

Bin’s eyes snapped to Felix and he relaxed to the point where all three let go.

“The doctor said that because of the severe stress and emotional trauma she endured her body rejected the pregnancy.” He bum-rushed Chan and slammed him against the wall, while everyone was either in shock or processing. Felix was the first and only one to try to get Bin off Chan. Changbin was just too strong for the younger man, he ignored Felix as he tried wordlessly to pry Bin away from Chan.

Bin continued staring into Chan's eyes, “The miscarriage was so sudden, in fact, that she hemorrhaged and almost bled to death because her cervix couldn’t open on its own in time. They had to scrape the tissue out just to stop it from killing her! And she looked at me to see if it was really true because I don’t LIE to her. Then they had to sedate her because her heart was going to give out when she realized that it was true.”

At this point Bin tightened his grip on Chan, “You are lucky that she asked for me to stay with her… If not I would kill you, right here. You are going to stay AWAY until or even IF she ever wants to see you again. I mean it Chan, if you come near her, I will end you. It’s not a threat, it’s a promise.” With that, he dropped Chan and went to the washroom. He washed off as much blood as he could and went to his room to change into spare clothes. He wanted to destroy everything in his room. His keepsakes, his picture frames of the boys all together. There was only one picture frame that he did smash to dust before he left his room… the one of himself and Chan, on Chan’s wedding day. He picked up his bloody clothes, stalked back out to Chan, and threw the clothing at him.

He was shaking with rage as he said, “To YOU… this could’ve been a game or a thrill, fucking with her heart. But THAT!” he pointed to the clothing, “that is the reality. A child is dead, your child and it almost killed Y/N too. Next time you want to contact her, look at what you did to both of them while you do it.”

Before Chan could say anything Bin was slamming the door shut behind him with such force that the wall itself vibrated. Right as he made it to his car Felix ran to him. “Can I go with you?” he asked.

“I’m not leaving the hospital for the whole night, you know that, right?”

Felix nodded and got into the passenger seat. The whole ride over Felix couldn’t help but to stare at Bin. He has never seen him like this. So enraged that he was three seconds away from crushing Chris’ windpipe.

He also noted how Bin didn’t seem to know that he was covered in blood until Chris looked at him. Even now he could see Bin’s grip on the steering wheel was so strong his knuckles were white. He didn’t know exactly what happened in those four hours they weren’t given updates, and Felix knows just by seeing Bin, he never wants to find out.

As soon as Bin entered your hospital room he heard you say “Binnie?”

Honestly, he could melt every time you call him that.

“I’m back…” he chuckled slightly… “And I brought some sunshine with me…”

The minute he looked into your eyes, you smiled just a little. That was progress. He kissed your forehead as Felix looked you over.

Felix is like your little brother, so the minute you saw him and he saw you, you both started crying. Han got off the bed knowing Lix would want to be with you for a bit, for both of your sakes.

This gave Han and Bin time to talk out in the hall.

“How’re her contractions?” Bin asked.

“They’re slower but still strong. The doctor says that it’ll be strong for at least 5 to 10 hours.” Han reported.

“And you? How’re you doing?” Bin asked. He knows Han has anxiety, seeing all of this and being as strong as he’s been is not easy.

“I’m… Out of all people, Bin.” Han shook his head. Han has known Chan the longest and he would’ve never expected him to do this.

“I know”

“Please tell me you didn’t hit him.” Han said.

“Nah… She needs me more than I need to beat him to a pulp… I don’t think he’ll be bothering her anymore though.” That’s at least what Bin hopes. Everything is so raw. A little over 8 hours before this you were at a restaurant to celebrate your 3rd anniversary. Now everything was all wrong, a nightmare incarnate and no one can wake up from reality.

“Hyung… She can’t go back to that house.” Han said as he took a deep breath.

“I know. All I know is that we'll do what she’s comfortable with.”

“Agreed…Bin?” Han asked.

“Yeah?”

“It should’ve been you with her. From the beginning.” Han looked to Bin, a look of understanding and empathy for Bin. Han could always see the way Bin looked at you when no one else was looking. Everything you said would be committed to his memory, even the smallest things like which brand of sesame oil you like best for your bulgogi marinade.

“I know. That doesn’t mean that I can’t be here for her from now on.”

Han just smiled and both of them went back into the room.

********************************************************************

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twstbookclub · 4 months

Text

Fleeting Dreams and Paper Rings

Summary: Silver's eyes always remained on you. His memories of you were filled with sunflowers, the warm afternoon sun, and paper rings. His hand always sought yours, and the thin band of gold on your ring finger stirred his heart more than anything else. POV: 2nd Person Pronouns: Gender-neutral Admin/Writer: Cressa🦋 Tags: Romance, Angst, No happy ending, sorry folks, Childhood Love, Unrequited Feelings, Silver Being Too Understanding, Diasomnia Found Family Cameo, Mentioned Vil and Neige, Mentioned Event from Book 5 (no major spoilers), Silver's POV Word Count: 2, 085 The way I struggled thinking of angst for this guy. Fluff is easy with him, but angst? Book 7 is already giving this boy a struggle, and I'm already teetering on the edge of the cliff with this. I'm not sure if this is any good, but I hope yall enjoy it at least. Silver is literally giving fairytale, woodland prince vibes. I'm going to drown this man in fairytale energy, even if it's the last thing I do.

“Silver, c’mere!” Your giggles echoed across a field of sunflowers. The young boy, whose hair glimmered like his namesake, waded through the yellow blooms with a curious look. Silver aurora eyes stared at your smile, stretched from one ear to the other.

Small, chubby hands reached out to place something soft on top of Silver’s head. It also tickled and pricked his forehead. The warm, summer air rustled his silver locks, and his own tiny hands clutched the ring of flowers that adorned his hair. Gentle fingers touched the petals of the sunflowers woven among the stems. A few leaves poked his skin, but he didn’t mind.

“Yay! It looks pretty on you,” you told him with a giggle. Silver watched you clasp your hands behind your back, as you looked at him with a bright beam. “I asked Lilia to teach me how to make flower crowns. Do you like it?”

His cheeks grew warm, not hot to the touch yet enough to color his pale skin. He imagined that knowing look in his father’s eyes. It was an innocent request, most likely born from a wish to make a beautiful gift. As young as the child was, Silver was already aware of his father’s mischievous tendencies.

Without lingering on the thought, he nodded and murmured, “I like it. Thank you…”

The edges of your eyes crinkled, hiding behind the chub of your cheeks. A laugh rang in the silent field of flowers, and Silver was reminded of the tinkling noises of the diurnal fae. You clapped your hands and tugged him to sit down with you. Another story sat at the tip of your tongue, just waiting to be shared with the boy you met in the forest one day. Somehow, you two became inseparable afterwards.

As the sunflowers swayed in the wind, carrying its fragrance and heralding the beginning of summer, the little boy thought your smile was the prettiest thing he had ever seen.

“Silver!”

Gone was the chub in your cheeks, yet your smile remained. Ten-year-old you and Silver sat in his father’s study: trinkets, books, and scrolls bearing untold tales of travel and war within its cabin walls. Scraps of colorful paper, either torn or crumpled or both, littered the mahogany table. Silver noticed that the bright sunlight that illuminated the room glowed with a soft orange now.

“Yes?” He asked, turning to you, only to be met with another wide smile and an excited gleam in your eyes. A paper ring sat in between your thumb and index finger. It was shoddy, obviously the work of a child, but you showed it to him as if it was gold that you unearthed yourself.

“I finally made one!” You cheered, before you beckoned him to give his hand to you. Silver did so without a complaint, and you slid the paper ring on one of his fingers. His heart skipped a beat as your fingers brushed his. He silently prayed that you didn’t hear his breath hitch in his throat. The silence seemed to make him more conscious of his own breathing and heart and everything.

Silver couldn’t help but notice that you put the ring on his left finger, right next to his pinky. He vaguely remembered his father telling him about an ancient belief; how a vein in this finger ran directly to the heart. He didn’t understand it, but his young mind interpreted it as the finger being related to the organ in some way.

“Mommy and daddy both have rings on this finger,” you explained without a falter in your smile. “They said you give someone you really love a ring here. Something about marrying the person you want to be with for life.”

As you looked into his eyes, your smile grew wider, if that was possible. Silver owlishly blinked, listening to your every word amidst the confusing warmth in his chest. His heart thudded, beating loud in his ears. He stared at you without so much as a twitch in his expression, despite what he currently felt.

“Let’s get married when we’re older! I want to have more fun and happy days with you for the rest of my life!”

You cradled Silver’s hand as if it was glass, fragile and valuable. It reminded him of the time when you held a glass of apple juice that Lilia had given you once. Silver felt as if the words would spill out of his mouth, anyway.

“Okay,” he answered softly. The wind could have drowned out his voice, but it rang clear in the quiet study. “I promise. We’ll get married when we’re older.”

You cheered, giggling and laughing and clutching Silver’s hand. Even if it was made of paper, he treasured the ring like a diamond that sparkled under the sun. Even if these were words being exchanged by naive and ignorant children, he held the promise close to his heart.

That day, Silver kept the ring in an empty cookie tin next to the flower crown. Time had not been kind to the gift from his early childhood. The sunflowers have long wilted, and the stems browned and became brittle. The petals and leaves crumbled under a feather-light touch.

Still, the silver-haired boy smiled and kept his treasures next to his bed.

“Silver,” you whispered, standing close to the tall teenager. Your arm brushed against his, while you avoided bumping into the scores of people that flocked Main Street. “It’s really crowded this year, huh?”

Night Raven College opened its gates to the public for the school festival, particularly for the Vocal and Dance Championship—VDC, for short. Silver invited you to the same event last year, and you enjoyed the variety of snacks and games offered by the students. You two even managed to get tickets for VDC then. He thought of inviting you to this year’s school festival. Although, he didn’t expect the surge of visitors this time.

“I’m sorry.” Silver gave you an apologetic smile as he tugged you by the arm. You were pulled away from some squealing and tittering girls that rushed through the crowd. They were screaming about VDC tickets, Vil, and Neige. Fangirls, Silver presumed.

“I didn’t anticipate that this year’s VDC would garner this much attention. Forgive me,” he apologized with a furrow of his brows and a quirk of his lips. His heart skipped a beat when you shook your head and grinned at him.

You never failed to make Silver’s heart do flips and cartwheels with that smile of yours.

“It’s fine,” you hummed and tugged his sleeve with a sheepish smile now, “but… Can you hold my hand, please? I don’t want to lose you in this crowd.”

Silver didn’t hesitate. His hand slid from your arm to your own hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. With a gentle squeeze, he answered, “Of course. Let’s go, then. I still have so much to show you, and we should search for Father while we’re at it.”

“Can we get cotton candy or ice cream on the way? Maybe both?”

You squeezed his hand in return, and that was all Silver needed. Heart fluttering and gaze softening at the sight of you, he pulled you along the street—as if you two were toddlers walking in the sunflower field again.

“Silver,” you called his name in a breathless whisper. Dressed in white silk that dripped with gold, you stood in front of your childhood friend with teary eyes and a wobbly smile. Your hands squeezed his, calloused from years of training under his father’s swordsmanship. His heart stuttered, and his breath hitched at the faint crack in your voice.

Before Silver knew it, you two moved beyond your teenage years. Time took away the awkward slouch of your shoulders and the lopsided quirk of your lips. The years had been kind to you, gracing you with a confident smile that made your face glow softly. Although, that confidence was replaced with something akin to heartfelt pride and joy at the moment.

“Yes?” He whispered in return, soft and warm and fragile. He squeezed your hands back, as if afraid to let you go. Another giggle. Another smile, one that reminded him of the days when you two were simply naive children. The familiar skip of his heartbeat merely softened the smile on Silver’s face.

“Thank you,” you gripped his hands as your lips quivered more and tears gathered in your eyes, “for everything.”

Silver’s heart twinged, before he reached out to wipe your tears away with a thumb. He never let go of your hand the entire time.

Love was sitting in a field of sunflowers and making flower crowns with clumsy, chubby hands in the summer. Love was making paper rings and exchanging promises of marriage in the cabin Silver and his father shared. Love was the taste of cotton candy and ice cream during a festival filled with fireworks and songs.

Love was watching an unrequited love give what was once yours to another—accepting it with a saccharine smile and a bittersweet sting in the heart.

“Of course.” The words easily rolled off Silver’s tongue, like dew sliding off a rose petal. He saw your smile widen, stretching from one ear to the other. Streaks of sunlight illuminated your dressing room, marble and glass encased in the golden glow of morning. Your eyes sparkled like jewels under the light, which reminded him of the diamond-studded band that once sat on your left ring finger.

Silver couldn’t help but let the memory of your paper ring overlap with the engagement ring from Kalim, one of his closest friends.

Before he could say anything else, a chorus of voices called for your name. Both of you turned towards the door where Lilia, Malleus, and Sebek waited. The youngest of the fae had pinched eyebrows and a scowl marring his features. Meanwhile, smiles brightened Lilia’s and Malleus’ faces. The latter appeared happier than the one who was getting married, most likely due to the invitation.

“It’s about to start,” Lilia reminded you with crossed arms and a tilt of his head. Sebek followed with a shrill, “Silver, stop dawdling around! You’re going to bring shame to Lord Malleus and Master Lilia for delaying the celebration!”

“Now, now, Sebek,” Malleus hummed with eyes narrowed in glee and a hand on his chin, “this is a union between Silver’s two friends, after all. Let him spend a few more minutes giving his well-wishes to one of them.”

Lilia tittered, while Sebek relented with a disgruntled, “Of course, Lord Malleus.”

You laughed, the jovial sound bouncing around the marble walls. Silver gawked, drinking in the curve of your smile and the unbridled joy in your eyes. With another squeeze and a tearful goodbye, you left the dressing room with a swish of fabric. Silver let your hands slip from his grasp with a single thought.

He didn’t have the heart to take your happiness away. He couldn’t. He can’t.

His father’s words and the retreating footsteps were all white noise to him. The silver-haired man stared at the empty space you once occupied. Magenta highlights and black locks swayed as Lilia took your place with a few steps.

A hint of worry shone in those raspberry red eyes, usually brimming with affection for Silver. They still did—they always will. Lilia tilted his head back to look into his son’s eyes, glazed over with a myriad of emotions.

How could a father watch his son crumble where he stood, crushed by the weight of his feelings and loyalty for his friends? Lilia lived a long life—witnessed and experienced more than the average person, whether human or fae—but nothing compared to witnessing his child’s despair.

“Come now,” Lilia whispered with a hand clapping Silver’s shoulder, “you’re the best man, son. You must take your place before the wedding begins.”

“I know, Father,” Silver choked the words out and pressed the heel of his palm over his eye. He took a deep, shuddering breath. Lilia squeezed his shoulder, before he offered a handkerchief from his coat pocket.

With a trembling hand, Silver accepted the square cloth with a quiet, “Thank you. Just… give me some time to recompose myself.”

Choked sobs disturbed the joyous air of a grand, long-awaited ceremony. In the silence of the dressing room, minutes before the beginning of a new chapter for two lovers, a father witnessed the bitter end of his son’s story with his childhood love.

#silver x reader #twst silver x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #someone just end me right now why is it so hard to write sad stuff for silver #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #malleus draconia #sebek zigvolt #lilia vanrouge #angst #romance #writing #unrequited feelings #twst fanfic #AdminCressa🦋#CressaWrites🦋

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