#but I would be an awful stay at home spouse….

[doctorweebmd]

Honestly I am very good at being at home

[diejager]

I need one of the boys to drunkenly confess to the reader

Cw: getting shitfaced, drinking, alcohol, drunken confession, tell me if I missed any.

“I love you, darling,” he mumbled, his pretty Cupid bow curved into a pout, “You- hic! You know tha-t right?” 

You don’t know how it got to this, his words slurred and voice whiny, his pretty brown eyes dilated so wide that you would have thought he was crying if you didn’t smell the lingering taste of alcohol on his breath. It was supposed to be a short celebratory drink between colleagues before he was dropped home, curling into your arms and smothering you in peppering kisses, but it seemed like he threw away such caution out of the window and went wild with drinks, tequila perhaps. Your pretty boy was shitfaced. 

He slumped into you, leaning his entire weight on you when he crossed the threshold of your home, dragging his feet and mumbling sobbing confessions until the tip of his shoes kicked the curb and his knees gave up. You huffed with a slight strain, supporting him while you waved at Price, wishing him a safe drive after declining his help. All to save Kyle’s dignity after he spent hours whining and singing praises about you to his mates, gushing his deep and unconditional love for the spouse he had waiting at home. 

“I love you,” he moaned, nuzzling your skin, his nose brushing the bruised skin between your neck and shoulder, where he’d covered it with spotted kisses just last night, “Love you s-so much.”

You chuckled airily, shoulder shaking at his small confessions. Dragging him into the flat, his feet unsteadily moving behind him as he tried to walk, failing over and over again despite his persistence in walking beside you and smothering you in love. You found it endearing, his drunken confessions and sloppy kisses on your skin, his wandering hands trying to grasp at you on his shaky feet.

“I know, Kyle,” you smiled against his cheek, kissing the corner of his lips when you rounded the corner of the hall, “We’re married.”

Stumbling into bed, Kyle blinked blearily, staring down at you with an awed gleam. You could see stars dancing in his chocolate hues, wide and starry in such an knee-weakening adoration that made you fall further in love with the man you married months ago. You laughed at him, pushing him to the side and straddling his hips in a soft motion, easily switching your position with a man who was drunk out of his mind to forget you were married. 

“Yeah,” cradling his face between your face, you pressed your lips to his, a soft and tender kiss that made both of you sigh in contentment, “Yeah, we are.”

“My spouse,” he mumbled sleepily, his left hand rising to touch your face, his rough pads gently fluttering over your skin, “My beautiful spouse.”

Your diamond-tipped ring gleamed in moonlight, a brilliant beacon of your devotion to each other, a reminder of your shared vows. Where you go, I will go, and where you stay, I will stay; Where you die, I will die, and there I will be buried. May the Lord deal with me, be it ever so severely, if even death separates you and me.(1)

1: quote from Where You Go(I Will Go) by alittlepunkcock 

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[the-ace-with-spades]

Bradley and Natasha get platonically married a few years into service and confuse the crap out of everyone.

They do it for a multitude of convenient reasons - they've been friends since flight school, they both accidentally found out they're bi but leaning toward same-sex attraction more, and had been each other's cover any time someone would start to suspect something. It comes up after Bradley puts Natasha as his next of kin and pension beneficiary (in case of death) and Natasha is like, 'you know, people are going to start questioning why we're so close'

So they don't give people a reason for suspecting - they make it official before. Nat doesn't talk to her family anymore and also makes Bradley her next of kin, they get a tax rebate, their health insurance is cheaper, they can evoke spouse privilege and get prioritised for base locations, keeping together. Married couples qualify for better housing as well and no one questions if they get a two or three-bed house, because you know, they're young, maybe they're planning to have kids soon. No one can treaten them with a DADT because who is going to believe that they're gay if they're married to each other, they have enough space that they can bring whoever they're dating back home without feeling like they need to do everything in secret.

Maybe, you know, whenever they're both alone and feel like it, they have some platonic sex...

Sure, maybe they're a weird couple - not that affectionate, not that open, talk to each other more like bickering best friends than lovers, maybe years go by and they still have no kids, maybe Natasha kept her surname, etc etc but it all could be swiftly avoided. We tried for kids but it didn't work, don't mention it around Nat/Bradley, he/she still feels guilty. We're best friends first, spouses second. The surname swap is a stupid tradition anyways. PDA is awful to see so why would we do something we don't wanna see others do?

The only real downside is that they can't be deployed together anymore.

When Jake meets Bradley after he gets re-stationed, Natasha is on deployment. They get close and closer, there's some flirting going on, and Jake is like 90% sure Bradley is not straight and is somewhat interested in him.

Push comes to shove and Bradley and Jake get deployed together (while Nat comes back home) and things continue and Jake gets 99% sure because damn, Bradley is fucking brave with how open he is with flirting, given where they are.

Then something happens and Bradley has an accident while onboard the carrier and Jake is there in the treatment bay and their CO comes around and asks Bradley, "Do you want me to call your wife, Bradshaw?" and Jake's whole world gets swept from under his feet. Because, you know, he was this close to fucking a married man.

And the worst thing is when they come back ashore and he finds out who is Bradley's wife - because Jake and Nat knew each other pretty well in USNA and he's not going to come into the mess that is their marriage.

Scratch that - the worst thing is that he can see Bradley does love Nat and that Nat loves Bradley and he doesn't know if he should say something to either. (He just doesn't know they love each other platonically only.)

They do stay married, even after DADT gets revoked, just because they're used to it now, and because the benefits are good, and really, neither of them are dating anyone seriously enough to go through the hassle.

Jake only realizes when after the mission years later, he sees Phoenix and Halo making out at the Hard Deck and tells Bradley "I think your wife is cheating on you with a woman, Bradshaw" and Bradley is like, "Yes, that would make sense given that she is a lesbian and all that."

[mythicmanuscripts]

What do we think about the boys with a Stark Spouse who brings a lot of blankets and furs from home to add to the bed? Especially with Aemond slowly growing closer they first seek out their blankets for comfort meanwhile Aegon and Jayce are just face planting into them after a hard day.

Love your writing btw!

This idea is so fucking cute I adore this.

I've kept this answer SFW but we can absolutely continue this concept into NSFW themes so if anyone would like to read that or has their own thoughts on it, let me know!

-------------------------------------

AEGON:

So my immediate thought here was that you'd bring one of your blankets to your new shared quarters with Aegon. Even though you weren't actually staying there with him every night yet, you just wanted one of your comfort blankets there. Aegon immediately zeros in on it when he first enters the room and that's when your realise that he might have a thing for soft textures.

As you get closer, you have a servant put one of the blankets on the bed in his private quarters for him. When he spots it he literally just stands in his room crying for a little while until he composes himself enough to go looking for you and thank you.

Once you get closer, Aegon absolutely loves stealing all the blankets and nuzzling against them. You keep on adding more blankets thinking he can't possibly steal all of them and you keep on being proved wrong. Of course he can steal all of them.

And when Aegon discovers the absolutely incredible sensory experience of cuddling you naked with one of the blankets wrapped around you both? Well good luck because he's just found his sleeping position for the rest of his life.

JACE:

I don't know why, but I like the idea that Jace gets very cold very easily? Especially before falling asleep. And he's also very particular about fabrics and how they feel against his skin.

You learn both of these things before you marry him during the countless hours you spend chatting and getting to know one another, and so at some point during that time you gift Jace one of your favourite blankets. At first he tries to say he couldnt possibly accept this from you but then you promise him that he can put pack on your joint bed after the wedding and well... he blushes so hard he has to hide behind the blanket.

So anyway, yeah he loves them too. I also think he'd put blankets all around your chambers? There's always a blanket on your favourite reading chair or at your dressing table, just in case.

Also, because Jace is a gentleman at heart, he always ensures you're nice and warm before bed. Even if you've just wrecked him, he'll still double check you arent cold and that there isnt any part of you the blanket isnt covering. He takes is very personally if you get cold, absolutely not he must ensure you are always comfy.

AEMOND:

Aemond wouldnt even know about your blankets at first because he most certainly wouldnt even consider entering your private quarters for the longest time. Even when you get married, he's still very strict about only ever going to your shared quarters and having a servant summon you there.

As you get closer though, I think maybe he'd find himself outside your room? He didnt mean to, but he was so frustrated, (Sidenote: I think one of the first things Aemond realises when he meets you is that you just... get him? You never ever make him feel frustrated, you always understand him, he never has to explain himself to you or worry about you being confused when he tells you things). So one day when he really was considering just pushing Aegon off a balcony, he finds himself outside your quarters, like his subconscious knew he would only be able to relax in your presence.

You're surprised to see him, but you let him in of course. You pull him onto your bed, letting him cuddle up to you and discuss what's gotten him so worked up. Once he's sitting on the bed, he kinda just strokes the blankets in awe? He's never felt something so soft before, and when you notice his reaction you immensely grab another blanket and wrap it around him. He pulls it tighter over his shoulders and leans against you.

After that, Aemond comes over to your quarters every single night before bed. He'd lay in bed with you and discuss his day, hearing your advice and listening to you telling him about your day. Even when things get sexual, he still comes to your private quarters first and then goes with you to your shared chambers. You try to say he must just summon you to the shared chambers because then it would be much easier but he refuses.

The way I picture it is that Aemond's actual quarters and your assigned shared quarters would be near Aegon and Alicent's quarters? All the most important people are close together and very well guarded. Before your marriage to Aemond you stayed in one of the guest rooms that were on the other side of the keep. Aemond absolutely loves this, loves that he can come to you and be comfortable and he feels so much safer because his family is physically further away.

(One last sidenote: maybe you track down a floor or tower that hasn't been used for years in the keep and you get the servants to help you make it into a living space for you and Aemond? It's far far away from everyone else and the only people with keys are you and him)

[flametrashiraarchive]

Hey👋🏾 ! Can I request Shinjuro x Widowed Reader who lost her husband and child to a demon attack years ago and is now remarried to Shinjuro after after Ruka passed. And how Shinjuro deals with being in love with another partner while also being in love with his late wife still grieving her after all these years. Also I’d wonder how Kyojuro and Senjuro would take to having a new mom🤔.

Hey! Thank you so much for the prompt!

So, this story ran away with itself, but I think this had to be a longer piece because there are so many emotions at play here. I wrote this as if the events of Mugen Train never happened and Shinjuro never had that moment of clarity after Kyojuro's death. (Kyojuro will never die on my watch)

If you prefer, it's on AO3 here

Content warnings for: alcoholism, recovering from alcoholism, death of a spouse, death of a child, and Shinjuro just being awful at the beginning of the story. It is kind of a slow-burn but there is an explicit sex scene so minors DNI. 

A Rekindled Flame

Shinjuro Rengoku x F!Reader

Shinjuro curls his lip as you approach. "What do you want now?"

Your husband reeks of sake and stale sweat, his yukata falling open, exposing his broad chest and thick thighs to the neighbors as he sits on the porch. 

Enough is enough.

You hold your breath, "You know what I want. I've asked you every day since the day we got married; I want you to give up the drink and be a father to your sons. Kyojuro left for his mission brokenhearted."

"So?" 

"So… what if he doesn't come back?"

"Why should I care? He's a grown man. He can make his own damn mistakes."

"You're vile. You're shameful!" You were raising your voice to him now, which you never did. You would take shit from Shinjuro all day long, but when it came to the boys, you would defend them tooth and claw. Your fists coiled at your sides. "How dare you!"

Shinjuro's shock at hearing your raised voice buys you a second to snatch the sake bottle from the former flame hashira.

"Give that back!" He growls, trying to stand. He sways and stumbles back down. "I'm not finished."

You defiantly pour the alcohol onto the earth and hand him the empty bottle. "There. You're done."

He simply stares at you, too drunk to form a reaction. "You… my…"

You turn on your heel and walk back into the house, heading to your room. Throughout the year you've been married, you and Shinjuro have never once shared a bed. Not even on your wedding night. He'd barely even made it through the ceremony before he was passed out in a drunken stupor. If not for Kyojuro and Senjuro, you might have run away there and then. Your marriage is loveless by every definition.

"SENJURO!!" Your husband bellows through the house, looking for his youngest. You know exactly what for. He's too drunk to go and buy sake himself, so he'll send the lad to do it. You step out of your room and find Shinjuro staggering through the kitchen. "Where's the boy?"

"Not here." You weren't about to tell Shinjuro, but his youngest son was at the butterfly mansion, where he would stay until he was ready to come home. You've had enough. You have all had enough.

Shinjuro closes his eyes and his throat flexes. He's either holding back from yelling or vomiting or both. "When you see him, tell him I need more sake. Some hell bitch threw mine away." And then he stumbles off to his bedroom and slides the door shut. A few moments later you hear a thud, and then snoring. 

All things considered, it didn't go too badly. 

Before you finish your chores you head over to Ruka's shrine. It has been a decade since Shinjuro's first wife passed, and you know how much he's hurting. You've lived through it yourself. 

You had thought that having both lost your spouses, you would have been a compatible match and bonded over your shared loss, but Shinjuro had only ever reluctantly accepted you as his wife. You were more of a nanny and maid. 

"Ruka… I'm trying," you whisper as you kneel and light the incense. "I'll keep trying, for the boys and for him."

~

The next day, Shinjuro is in a foul mood as anticipated. He trudges from his room and instinctively heads to the porch before remembering the events of the previous day. 

"You owe me a bottle of sake," he grumbles, his voice deep and rough. 

"You owe me a year of my life. Let's just call it even." 

His thick black eyebrows furrow. "Where's Senjuro?"

"Gone."

"Gone where? There are chores to be done…"

You take a breath. "Senjuro left here yesterday morning. He's gone to stay with friends. Kyojuro and I thought it would be best." 

"What the hell is this? My whole good for nothing family turning against me?" He shakes his head, furious tears forming in his eyes. "Why did you take my son away?"

"I didn't send him, he wanted to go," you try to keep your voice firm but calm. Your heart is racing, and as much as you want to get the hell out too, you need to do this for Kyojuro and Senjuro. "Don't you see what you're doing to this family?"

Shinjuro scoffs. "You're the one breaking us apart. The boys are all I have!"

"Senjuro flinches when you walk into the room. Kyojuro works so hard every damn day to make you proud and all you ever do is drink and tell him he's worthless. I don't want to drive your family apart. I want to fix it. I need to fix it, because you have two wonderful sons who deserve the world. And all you're giving them is hell."

He stares at you. A tear runs down your cheek and you quickly wipe it away. He knows you lost your own son, that you blame yourself for failing to protect him from the demon who killed both him and your husband. If Kyojuro had gotten there just a second later, you would have died too. 

He steps toward you, muttering the first syllable of your name before he shakes his head. For a moment you could swear he almost showed you empathy. "So… what you're telling me is that I need to quit drinking, and then I'll get my boys back."

You nod. "I know how much you're hurting Shinjuro. I know Ruka was your world and you love her so much the pain is unbearable. But the drink isn't numbing it, is it? You're still hurting, and all the drink does is spread that pain to others." You take a step toward him and lay your hand on his forearm, gazing up at him with desperation in your eyes. "Let me help you, because you truly have such wonderful, kind sons, and they deserve a father. And you don't deserve to drink yourself to an early grave."

His jaw tightens and he looks away. "There's nothing left of me for you to save."

"That's not true." Your racing heart is breaking as you look into your husband's eyes and see there's no light in them at all. "Shinjuro, we'll get you back."

"It's impossible–"

"We're Rengokus. We do not give up. Please Shinjuro… let me help you and then… then I'll leave. You'll never have to see me again. But do this for your sons."

His eyes snap toward you. "Why would you leave?" 

"Because I know you don't love me. You never have, and that's fine." A bitter chuckle leaves your lips. "I don't love you either. Let's just do this one thing. If all we ever do is get you through this, I'll consider our marriage a success."

He stares at you for a moment before his gaze drops to the floor. "Alright. I'll do it. For the boys."

~

The first weeks are hell. 

The withdrawal keeps Shinjuro up at night. He shakes and sweats, throwing his guts up and snapping at you constantly. His irritability is worse than ever and you start to doubt either of you has the strength to keep doing this. 

Every night you pray at Ruka's shrine. It's a comfort to feel like you're both trying to help. The photograph of her gazes back at you with endless patience and grace, and you try your best to draw strength from the hope that she's watching your efforts.

You wash the sweat and vomit from his clothes, you brew tea to help his nausea and let him swear and grumble at you all he wants. But he doesn't touch a drop of sake. 

One morning, three weeks after his last drink, Shinjuro emerges from his bedroom and walks to the table where you're eating breakfast alone.

"Good morning," he says, his voice as deep and growly as ever but lately it's a little gentler. 

"How was last night?"

"Better…" he pulls in a breath and walks to the pot of rice gruel on the table, ladling out a bowl for himself.

"You're eating breakfast?" You've never seen him eat breakfast in the whole year you've been married. 

He nods. "Yeah… I'm hungry."

For the first time, your husband sits beside you and eats. He doesn't smell of sweat and sake anymore, he just smells like… Shinjuro. 

"I'm going to cut firewood today," he tells you as he eats. "I noticed we're getting low, with the boys being gone."

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Shinjuro has never done chores. "Oh, thank you."

"Don't thank me. I live here too. It's only fair I do my share." He finishes his breakfast and sets his bowl down. His eyes are downcast. "I'm sorry." 

Silence hangs between the two of you. 

You aren't sure how to respond. There are no words to describe the tangled web of feelings you have for the man. There's so much resentment and anger. But you're proud of him too, so very very proud. And truth be told, though your marriage exists in name only, you're attached to him. 

His hand rests on your shoulder, so big and heavy and oh-so warm. "I've been a terrible husband and an even worse father."

"Yes."

He bows his head. "I know words mean less than actions, but I will atone for what I've done and become worthy of the name Rengoku once more." He pulls in a long breath and turns to face you. "My wife… will–" He shakes his head, composes himself, and says firmly, "Can I hold you?"

His request takes you by surprise. "But you hate me."

"No," he shakes his head. "No, I've never hated you. How could I? I've watched you keep this home running while I've sat idle and useless. I've watched you be a mother to the boys and put up with the hell I dragged you through with grace and strength." His gold and crimson eyes are fixed on you. "You are a remarkable woman, the strongest I have ever known. And I know I'm unworthy of claiming the title of your husband, I'm beyond honored to call you my wife."

You can only stare. This man is so different from the one you've been married to this past year. "Shinjuro…" his name emerges as a whisper before your lips curve and you smile at him for perhaps the first time ever. 

Words are unnecessary as you lean into your husband's embrace and his strong arms wrap around you as he buries his face against your shoulder. 

And God, it shouldn't feel this good to finally feel appreciated and loved by him, but it does. You hold each other as if your embrace could heal the deepest wounds, bringing your hand up to softly stroke the back of his head and his wild fiery hair.

"I'm so proud of you," you say at last. "I know nothing has been easy these past ten years."

"It hasn't been for you either, and I've made it so much worse." He pulls back from the embrace and looks into your eyes. "I'm going to be the husband you deserve, if you'll have me. But don't answer yet. Let me earn it." 

He stands and takes your bowls to wash them. When he's done he silently heads outside and it isn't long before you hear the rhythmic thump of an ax hitting wood. 

You go about your daily routine, keeping the Rengoku homestead together as best as you can. You clean, maintain, fix, and finally cook.

When dinner is ready you head outside to tell Shinjuro, but the sight which greets you knocks the air from your lungs. 

He's still hard at work, his torso completely bare and his yukata gathered about his hips. His body is so big and burly, softened by age yet still so strong even though years have passed since he quit his hashira training. He's sweating and his cheeks and chest are flushed a warm shade of pink. He's slightly breathless. The golden sunset highlights every curve and muscle of his body. 

You just… stand… transfixed. 

Your body knows what it wants immediately.

He finally notices you standing on the porch and wipes his brow on his forearm. "Everything okay?"

"Mhm… yeah…" you nod as heat creeps across your cheeks and pools in the pit of your belly. "Dinner's ready."

He nods. "Almost done." 

The heat in your belly seeps lower as you watch him swing the ax again. 

You have to turn away. It has been years since you felt anything close to desire, and the sudden onslaught to your senses is more than you can handle. Heading inside, you splash cold water on your cheeks and add the noodles to the pot, ready to serve.

"Mmm…"

Your heart flutters as you hear Shinjuro's low hum of approval as he steps into the house a few minutes later. "Smells like miso."

"Miso ramen."

"My favorite!"

"I know." You chance looking around and instantly regret it. 

His yukata is back in place but he must have quickly washed up outside as his hair is wet and scraped up into a ponytail. And though he's clearly made an effort to be presentable, the fact remains that his yukata is hardly big enough to fully cover his chest. You can't tear your eyes from the hypnotic sight of water droplets sliding down over his skin.

"Oh~" you clear your throat and turn back to the pot, fixing two bowls of ramen. "It's a shame Kyojuro isn't back yet. He loves this dish."

"Kyojuro loves every dish," Shinjuro chuckles as he sits at the table. "Feeding him costs a fortune. But your ramen is very good." A pained sigh escapes him. "I do miss the boy. I expect he and I will have a difficult conversation upon his return. Difficult but necessary. And as for Senjuro, I can only hope he wishes to come back home."

You set the bowls on the table and sit beside him. "He will. He wants his father. And I've written to him telling him how well you're doing, though it may take a while for the letter to reach him, since Kyojuro has the kasugai crow on his mission." 

Shinjuro pauses with his spoon mid air. "You did that for us?"

You nod.

He reaches out and puts his hand on yours. "I would marry you again, you know. I know you probably can't say the same and I don't blame you for that one bit. But I would marry you without hesitation." 

His hand completely covers yours; large, firm, and warm. You rotate your wrist and turn your palm upward to interlock your fingers with his. 

"It hasn't been easy, Shinjuro, but I would do this a thousand times over to meet the version of you I see today." His stubble rasps against your palm as you reach out and affectionately cup his chin with your other hand, lifting it ever so slightly so he sits a little prouder. "I knew there was a good man beneath all those snarls." 

He chuckles and smiles at you fondly. "Thank you. Ah, I should probably shave, shouldn't I?"

"It's up to you, I quite like the stubble."

"Oh you do?" He raises a thick, dark eyebrow. "Then I'll keep it."

Your cheeks heat. You're flirting with your husband! He laughs softly and continues eating his ramen. 

"It's good. Thank you. You're an excellent cook and an even better wife."

When evening comes and it's time for you to go to bed, you stand together in the center of your house between the two doors.

"Goodnight, sweet wife," he says, squeezing your hand affectionately.

"Goodnight, husband who is trying very hard."

He laughs before he turns and heads to his room. 

~

From that point on, each day gets a little easier. You sit and eat meals with your husband and both spend the day working around your home. You become a team, a family. And every day he recovers more of himself. Every day he becomes the man his family deserves. 

When he's a month sober, you prepare a special dinner; a little banquet just for the two of you.

"Oh my!" His smile beams as he sees all your hard work. "My darling wife, you really are wonderful."

"Thank you." Your heart leaps as he leans in and gently kisses your cheek. 

"No, no, thank you." He chuckles and sits down to eat. He'll never admit it, but since he sobered up it's very apparent that Shinjuro absolutely shares the same voracious appetite as Kyojuro. "Mm… tasty."

You sit together, shoulder to shoulder as you eat, discussing the day and what still needs to be done around the house tomorrow. When he's finished eating you hand him a letter. "It's from Senjuro." 

His smile falters and he suddenly looks timid. His fingers are shaking as he opens the letter. You already know the contents, you know it's nothing but sweetness– of course it is, it's Senjuro– but you know how terrifying this must be for Shinjuro. 

You put your arm around his back as he reads and a few moments later you feel him start to shake as he grits his teeth and a sob bursts out of him.

"Senju–" he cries, bringing the letter to his lips and closing his eyes. "Oh my sweet boys. I miss them."

You pull him into an embrace,  wrapping your arms around him; one around his back, the other cradling his head to your chest as you press your lips to his hair. "It's okay. You're doing so well, Shinjuro. They'll be back soon and they'll be proud to call you their father."

He nods and wraps his arms around your waist, holding you as his tears subside and he composes himself. "You're right. They'll be back and they'll have a father they can be proud of." He keeps holding you, keeps resting his head against you. "Thank you. I can never thank you enough for what you've done for our family." 

"I would do it every day, a hundred times over." You kiss the top of his head, letting your lips linger in his hair. The scent of him is so comforting now, so you draw a deep breath.

He raises his head to look at you, smiling softly, and leaning in to  place a gentle, loving kiss on your cheek. 

His lips are soft in contrast to his stubble which rasps over your skin and stirs a cloud of butterflies in your belly. 

Your heart races as you close the space between you once more and kiss his cheek in return. Your kiss lands a little lower, a little closer to his lips.

He mirrors your gesture, exchanging another chaste kiss at the corner of your mouth. And another. And another.

The air between you grows thick and hot as those chaste kisses become loaded with a deeper need. And with every kiss your heart beats a little faster.

Your faces are just inches apart, his shallow breaths fluttering against your lips as the lids grow heavy over golden hued eyes. His gaze drifts to your lips. "Is it…okay if–?"

"Yes." 

He chuckles, brushing his fingertips against your jaw and gently clasping your chin to bring your lips to his. His kiss is soft and tender, his lips slowly and tentatively caressing yours, as if he's rediscovering a path he once knew so well. 

But once he finds the rhythm his kiss grows more intense, and a deep, desperate moan rolls through his chest and echoes in you. The moment his tongue slips against yours you're both gone; lost to the heat and the pleasant tingles shooting through your bodies.

He pulls back for a moment, checking in on you, but you quickly close the gap once more, kissing him with all the passion and adoration you've craved for so long.

Your fingers graze over his stubble as you cup his face between your hands.

"Oh, my wife," he whispers against your lips as he switches from deep, hungry kisses to feathery, gentle ones. "My sweet wife."

He presses his forehead to yours as he traces your lips with his fingertip, making you shiver. 

"I should have told you every day; you're so beautiful," his voice is low and quiet and just for you. "I want to spend the rest of my life cherishing you as you deserve." He places a soft kiss at the corner of your lips. "I never thought I'd feel this way again."

You can hardly breathe; his tenderness is lovely and overwhelming. "I know I'll never replace Ruka. I don't intend to, and I would never expect you to stop loving her."

"You're right, I'll always love her, but I love you too, and there's room for both of you in my heart." He tucks your hair back behind your ear and kisses your temple. "I would never expect you to stop loving your late first husband either. The ones we lose, they're a part of us, and they would want us to be happy." He caresses your cheek and it isn't until he wipes away your tears that you realize you've begun to cry. "Before she died, Ruka begged two things of me: to take care of our boys and to find love again. And you've made both her final wishes possible. Ruka was my first love, but you are my last."

Your heart squeezes at his words. You caress his stubbled cheek before leaning in and letting your kiss tell him everything you can't find the words to express. His lips are addictive, and every kiss fans heat through your body. When you pull away you gently suck his lower lip, pulling a deep, needy groan from him.

"Oh~" his eyes flutter closed. One of his hands is at the back of your neck, the other drifts down to your waist. "You're making me weak, wife."

You can't help but smile as you lean in again and kiss him even deeper. That you can reduce this big, strong former hashira to whimpers with just a kiss is more thrilling than you ever imagined.

His cheeks are a deep shade of pink as he gazes down at you. "We have a lot of time to make up. I want to take care of you. Tell me how to do that."

"Well, we never got a wedding night," you say as your heart pounds.

"You're right." He kisses you again, runs his fingers through your hair. It seems he can't get enough of the sensation of you. "Would you like me to make up for that tonight?"

Your throat is dry, your breath stilted as you nod. "Yes. Shinjuro, right now I want nothing more."

You can see in his eyes how much this means to him. And you feel it too. It's not just the physical pleasure, but the intimacy, the outlet, the emotional release. He carries you to his bedroom and sets you down on the bed, his lips curving into a genuine and grateful smile as he kneels between your knees and leans forward, pressing his body against yours and kissing you. 

It's been so long since you felt anything like this, and your body drinks it in. Before long you're kissing like teenagers, both flushed, your bodies heating. You wrap your legs around him, grinding your hips against his, seeking friction as his tongue strokes yours. 

He chuckles softly. "Easy, little spitfire. I said I'd take care of you and I want to do it thoroughly." His fingers make short work of your clothing, laying you bare as his breath catches in his throat. "Beautiful," he whispers, his voice thick with reverence as he gazes down at you.

He kisses your neck, your collarbone, your breasts, latching onto your nipples with a wanton moan. 

There's so much time to make up for, and he loves you. He desperately does. Never once during that year of lonely hell did you ever suspect that Shinjuro was a man who loves to fuck, but as he kisses his way down your belly and over your hips, he can't hide the curve of his lips or the gleam in his eyes. 

His stubble rasps against your inner thighs as he teases you with hot, hungry kisses, inching closer and closer to where you so desperately need him.

"Just relax," he tells you in that soft, growly voice as he lies between your legs, his lips just inches from your pussy. "Let your husband take care of you."

And God, he does just that. Shinjuro eats your pussy like it's his first meal in forever, licking, sucking, groaning as he devours you. He's experienced; he knows exactly what he's doing, and he's enthusiastic about it, wanting nothing more than your pleasure and your fingers tangled in his fiery hair.

He listens to your moans, he pays attention, figuring out what works for you. Hooking a large, warm hand behind your knee, he lifts your leg and puts it over his broad shoulder and seals his lips around your clit, softly sucking as his tongue flutters. He's spurred on by your cries, your gasps, the way your legs tremble.

"Shinjuro…I'm close." 

It's music to his ears. He doesn't stop, he keeps the same pressure, the same pace, letting your pleasure build and build until you fall apart, bucking against his skillful mouth as he laps up every drop of your essence. When your trembling subsides he gently and affectionately nuzzles your clit with the tip of his nose. 

"God." You lie there panting as he kisses your inner thighs once more. 

"Do you want more?" He asks, lifting your leg and trailing kisses down your calf.

"I never want it to end."

He laughs quietly, shifting his body so he can lie on top of you. You kiss him deeply, tasting yourself on his lips as you run your fingers over his back. His muscles flex and relax beneath your touch.

"Do you want me to fuck you?" He whispers in your ear. 

"Yes." There's so much desperation in your voice. 

A low, approving moan emerges from him before he rocks up onto his knees and stands to undress. His body is just as strong and burly as you remember and just the sight of him makes your breath catch. His cock is hard and standing straight out, curved slightly upward toward the tip, and thickly veined.

His eyes are soft as he looks down at you, but the shallow rise and fall of his chest tells you he's anything but calm.

Raising up, you sit on the bed and put your hands on his hips, pulling him toward you. He smiles and obeys your silent command, stepping closer to you to lay back down on top of you.

"I can't tell you how good it feels to know you want me," he whispers close to your ear. "My God, I have such a beautiful wife."

He trails kisses down your neck, pressing his lips to your throat as you run your fingers through his hair.

"You feel so good, Shinjuro."

"I want to make sure you're good and ready for me first." He reaches down between your legs, his fingers gliding over your overstimulated clit and down to your entrance. He gently pushes his finger inside, gasping at the wet warmth of your pussy squeezing him. "Ohh~ my girl, you're so wet already."

You're out of your mind with desire and pleasure as he finds the exact spot to curl his fingers against. "Shin… oh…"

"Hm? Is that good?" He adds another finger, circling your clit with his thumb and watching your every reaction. 

He fucks you with his fingers deep and slow, stretching you out in preparation, enamored with your whimpers and the way you moan his name.

Lowering his head, he takes your nipple into his mouth and laps at it with his tongue. "Are you going to cum for me again, my love?"

"Y-yes."

"Good girl, I know you've got at least one more for me." 

You're damn near feral as he keeps coaxing out your pleasure, that big, warm body of his pressing you down against the mattress. Your inner muscles flutter and clench around his fingers. 

"That's it, my love. There it is. Let's get this pretty pussy all wet and ready for me." 

Your orgasm tears through you and you cry out in pure bliss as he keeps on praising you in his deep, rough voice. 

"That's my girl. Oh you look so beautiful; so ready for me. You want it now, huh?" 

All you can do is nod. He chuckles and pulls out his fingers, bringing them to his mouth before he sucks them clean. "Mm~ I'm never going to get enough of your taste."

"Shinjuro," you moan as your hips involuntarily buck toward him. Your need surpasses all other sensation. You need to be fucked and you need it now. 

Shinjuro's lips curve into a grin. He strokes his cock between your folds, coating himself in your slick essence before he presses his tip to your entrance. 

"God, you're so big," you gasp as he pushes into you. Even with all his preparation there's still a little resistance. 

"Nice and easy, little spitfire," he grunts, his brow knitting together as he slides slowly deeper. "Ohh, you feel so damn good."

He buries his cock to the hilt inside you,  leaning forward so his chest is pressed to yours and he can rest his weight on his forearms as he caresses your face and strokes your hair sweetly while grinding his hips against yours.

"Look at you, my pretty wife, taking my cock so well."

As your passion grows, his vocabulary dwindles to nothing more than grunts and gasps. He rolls his hips, aiming to hit every pleasurable spot with each slow thrust. He's patient, savoring the sensation of you as he kisses every inch of your face.

His restraint starts to fray as you rock your hips beneath him, hinting that you want more. 

Those golden eyes of his flutter shut, and his lips part around a silent gasp. "If you keep that up I'm not going to last, my love."

You kiss him, deeply, your tongue dancing slowly with his as you keep on rocking your hips. As much as you want this to last forever, you want him to feel good too. Watching him start to lose his composure is a beautiful feeling.

He groans against your mouth. "Do you want to get on top?"

"Yes." 

He rolls you over and lies back, letting you align yourself properly to ride him. Putting one arm behind his head, he reaches out with the other and touches the base of his cock, sliding up until he touches your pussy, tracing the seam where your bodies meet, with a deep, approving moan. "So perfect." 

You place your hands on his belly for balance and start to roll your hips, taking him slow and steady, rocking forward so your breasts are just a few inches from his face. 

"Ohh~" He's in bits as you ride him, his cheeks flushed, his eyes heavy-lidded.

Ever-desperate to please you, he strokes your clit with the pad of his thumb, watching the way you move like he's bound by your spell.

As your pleasure grows you start to move faster, taking him harder and deeper until you're riding him with desperate abandon. 

Your backs arch in sync as the pleasure becomes too much to bear, as waves of pleasure wash over you and you fall apart, he cries out, gasping, thrusting his hips up into you as he finishes. 

And then you collapse, fucked-out and blissful in the arms of your husband. Finally, finally after all this time.

You both lie there gasping for air, exchanging soft laughter and gentle kisses.

"I love you, wife." He pulls you to him, wrapping his strong arms around you as if he intends to protect you from the world. 

And finally you speak the words you've longed to feel since the day you married him. "I love you too."

You mean it. You truly do.

For the first time in your marriage you and Shinjuro fall asleep holding each other. And that's how you sleep every night thereafter. 

~ 

~A year later~

"YOU'RE HOME!" Senjuro is only fifteen and probably only half Kyojuro's weight, but he barrels into his older brother with enough force to knock the man flying onto his ass. The boys' loud, contagious laughter rings through the house. 

"Careful! Careful!" Shinjuro chuckles, ruffling his youngest son's hair before helping the eldest up from the ground.

"Thank you father," Kyojuro beams as he dusts off his hashira uniform and places his hand flat on Senjuro's head, measuring his height against himself and widening his eyes when he finds Senjuro is at nose-height. "Goodness! When did you get so tall?! You must stop growing. I'll be the shortest in no time."

"Then I'll call you 'little brother' instead." Senjuro grins.

A laugh shakes Shinjuro's chest as he places his hand on his eldest son's shoulder. "You may be the shortest soon but I'm still proud of you. I'm proud of you both. I have fine boys." He smiles affectionately. "How was the mission?" 

"Successful." Kyojuro lifts his chin proudly. "We prevailed, and the demon's would-be victims are safe. He won't hurt anyone again."

A moment later, Kyojuro is damn near swept off his feet a second time as his father pulls him into a tight embrace.

You can't help but smile from the doorway before heading into the kitchen. It's late spring, the air is fresh and pleasant, and everybody's home. It's as good an excuse to prepare a feast as any. 

Getting to this point took some work. There were many tears and long conversations. But in the end the family has come together and emerged from the darkness stronger. The Rengoku house is once again filled with love and laughter.

Kyojuro walks into the kitchen and wraps his arms around you. He knows what you endured throughout his father's recovery, and he'll never stop showing you how grateful he is. 

"I'm so glad you're home," you say softly as you hug your stepson back. 

He pulls back and his smile is beaming. Both Kyo and Senju have their father's hair and eyes, but Kyojuro is the spitting image of Ruka; his presence just as calming and comforting as the picture on her shrine. 

"How is he?" he asks. 

"Your father?"

"No, no I can see he's well. I mean…" his eyes dart downward to your stomach. 

You laugh, "Oh, you're so certain you have a new little brother?" 

"I'm positive, there hasn't been a girl in our family as far back as records go. Could you imagine a little girl with these eyebrows??" He laughs loudly. 

There's nothing wrong with our eyebrows," Shinjuro interjects as he enters the kitchen too. "Now, if you don't mind, your stepmother and I have a feast to prepare. You and Senjuro have a lot of catching up to do, I'm sure."

Your husband rolls his sleeves over his muscular forearms and gives you a wry smile as the boys head off, chattering between themselves. 

"We all love you, you know?" he says quietly as he begins chopping vegetables. "You brought this family back from the brink, and I can never thank you enough." 

"You thank me plenty."

"It's still not enough." 

He sets down the knife and stands behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and leaning around to place a dozen little kisses on your cheek. 

You laugh– as you do so often these days– and kiss your husband, proud to be his and proud to love him so openly. Because Shinjuro Rengoku is a man to be proud of. 

The end

[poem-i-wish-i-wrote]

heyy, what's up? I wanted to request some angst to fluff with charles where the reader and him have a big fight and the reader decides to go to a hotel and he finds her and apologizes and they go back to their house and spend a lot of time together. if there's anything you would like to change feel free to do so ☺️ love your writing btw 🩷

Heyy Anon. Thank you so much for the request. I tried my best to do it justice. i really hope you like it. And i'm sooo delighted to hear you like my writing. You have no idea how much that means to me. enjoy!

Also requests are open

Standing at the door like a ghost shaking from the rain

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x reader Warning: angst, lots of angst, Charles being dismissive and avoidant, mention of anxiety.

It’s been a horrible week for you at work. You felt so frustrated. You wish you could have talked to someone, but it feels like no ones ever around when it's you who needs some support.

Not even your boyfriend. It always seems like when you were having a bad week, Charles was having a worse one. And you end up not seeking comfort in him, because you don’t wanna be a burden. You don’t wanna add to his problems or concerns.

 Last week was the Austrian GP week, where Charles had a god awful result. He was very upset and stressed about it. You tried to comfort him as much as you could. But his quiet resentment hanged in the air like a ticking bomb. It just made you more anxious, it just made the week feel worse. And he was busy this whole week trying to improve his performance, always in training, always in meetings. You didn’t hold it against him. He needed to improve, he needed to work, you know that. 

But you hated how he acted when he came home. Avoiding talking to you, dismissing you when you tried to ask if he was okay and if he wanted to talk about it. Demeaning you with his actions. He would always be yelling at the phone. Acting bit aggressive while doing things. It was all putting you on edge.  But you said nothing. He was having a hard time, you couldn’t blame him right?

You were at one of Charles' friend's parties. Charles merely paid you any attention the whole evening. You didn’t know any of these people, and Charles didn’t introduce you to anyone unless someone asked about you. You felt very uncomfortable. It was an especially awful day. You almost decided not to come to the party today. You were home lying on your bed thinking how you will tell Charles you wanted to stay home tonight. But Charles barged into the room and asked “Why aren’t you getting ready? Fuck Y/n we can’t be late.” Somehow that expression of his made you not want you to engage in a conversation with him. 

So here you were standing uncomfortably, as your boyfriend was laughing with his friends and their spouses, completely ignoring you. You could feel yourself shaking a bit. You were anxious. Everything about his body language was making you feel worse.

By the time you got back home, the pent up emotions of the whole week got to you. You were throwing your jewelries on the dressing table. Slamming washroom and closet doors. You didn’t even look at Charles as you changed, freshened up and got ready to call it a night. Charles could sense you were mad. 

You were getting yourself a glass of water, aggressively putting down the jug when Charles walked into the kitchen. “Why are you so pissed off?”

“I’m not.” “Yes, you are. You're acting ridiculous,” You close your eyes trying not to pounce at the man in front of you in anger. “It’s nothing.”

“Why are you acting this way? You barely talked to my friends all night. You weren’t even willing to get ready for the party. That’s so insensitive of you!”

“Oh wow” you express with raised eyebrows. “I was being insensitive? What about you? How am I supposed to talk to your friends if you don’t even introduce me? You’ve been acting like an asshole all week. I’m trying to be there for you regardless, and you call me insensitive.”

“What do you mean I was being an asshole? You know I have had a hard week, if you can’t accept a little change in my mood, then how is this supposed to work between us?” “Please Charles, you know I can handle your change in moods, but you took it too far. You pay me no attention. You keep pushing me away. What am I supposed to do?” “Well if you supported me and my work then you would have found a way to be there for me”  That struck a nerve, and suddenly you were yelling everything you have been trying so hard to repress all week.

“Oh I don’t support your work?! You know what, Charles?? You're not the only one with a career. Other people have bad days too.  I don’t support you? I’ve been trying to comfort you all week. What have you done? Have you paid me any attention? Did you even notice how hard I’ve been struggling? My project fell through this morning. I’ve been having absolute shit time at work, but you don’t see me treating you with a bad attitude because of that” You yell. You were visibly shaking now. This was all getting too much.

“How am I supposed to know what goes on in your office?” he yells back. “It’s not about knowing. It’s about being there for each other! And you are never around for me anymore. I feel more alone when I’m with you.” “You are being fucking ridiculous. You can’t just put that all on me.” Charles states. You press your hands on your eyes in frustration.

“You know what. Yeah , I’m being ridiculous. And you have a race next week. Maybe I should just leave you to concentrate on your career. I can't stay here anymore." You say before leaving the kitchen and getting your purse and phone from your room.

“Y/n?! Y/n! Where are you going?” Charles follows you. You don’t say a word, you just put on your shoes and slam the door behind you. You get into your car and drive off, leaving Charles standing alone in your living room, thinking about how he just fucked up.

You were at a hotel now. It’s been 2 hours since you left the house. It was raining heavily outside. You were crying under the covers. Everything was crumbling, your career, your relationship. You felt so damn alone. You could feel your anxiety get worse by the minute. 

Suddenly you heard a knock on your hotel room door. A desperate knock. You just lay there hearing the sound. You couldn’t find the energy to get up. The knock continued. You finally got up and opened the door to find a very drenched Charles Leclerc in front of you. 

“What the fuck Charles? What Are you doing here?” You say. He was shaking from the cold. His hair all messed up, his damp hair on his face. He could see you were clearly “Y/n I’m so sorry. Please, please come back home.” He said, stepping closer to you. You backed away which broke his heart. “Y/n I’m so so sorry. You were right, I was an asshole. I was so caught up in myself, I didn't see what I was doing. I didn’t mean to ignore you. I’m so sorry I didn’t see how much my actions were affecting you. Sorry I didn’t see your struggles. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you.” At this point there were tears in your eyes again. You try to turn away but he grabs hold of your hand. 

“I’m so sorry Mon Cheri. I’m so sorry I hurt you this bad. Please come home to me. I’m never gonna do this again. Please give me one more chance to be there for you. I’ll never let you feel lonely ever again.” He pulled you close to his forehead resting against yours. You were fully crying. It seemed like he was going to cry too. “Please Y/n, please.” he whispered. You shouldn’t forgive him so easily. But You felt so awful right now, so weak. Your wrapped hands around him and buried your face in his chest. Not caring that he was fully damped from the rain. You were sobbing into his chest. He leaned into your shoulders whispering sorry into your skin as he held you tight against him. 

When you stopped crying he wiped away your tears and kissed you sweetly. “Let’s go back home, love.” He gathered your things for you before driving you home. Holding your hand the whole drive.

Back at home, he led you to the bed, holding you close to his chest as you two cuddled into each other. He kept saying sorry. And you just hold on to him tightly.

“Tell me what’s been bothering you at work,” he said while kissing your hair. “It’s nothing," you say. He lifts your face up towards him by your chin. “Don’t do that. Don’t hide from me. Tell me, I want to know.” You give him a sad smile at that.

You two lay there talking late in the night. You tell him about the difficulties you were facing, the project that fell through and how worried you were about that. He held you tightly while playing with your hair, listening to your every word and comforting you through the night until you fell asleep.

When he realized you were fully unconscious, He pressed his lips on your temple whispering, “I'm never going to let you feel lonely ever again.”

[merrybloomwrites]

I Hear Them Calling (Chapter 7)

Story Summary: Alpha Harry Styles and omega Y/N Y/L/N meet under less than ideal circumstances. Overtime their paths will cross and they will be drawn to one another in ways they never expected.

Chapter Summary: Y/N deals with going off her medications and being apart from Harry. They finally reconnect to spend the holidays together.

Previous Chapters: Prologue ; Chapter 1 ; Chapter 2 ; Chapter 3 ; Chapter 4 ; Chapter 5 ; Chapter 6

Word Count: 6k

CW: smut

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The first week without suppressants and soothers isn’t awful. There's just enough of the medication still in your system to keep you feeling somewhat normal. Plus, your nest, really your entire apartment, is still holding on to Harry’s scent.

You continue to sacrifice sleep so you can watch live streams of Harry’s shows. You’re pleasantly surprised to see “Canyon Moon” back on the set list. You can’t help but wonder if it has anything to do with you telling him that it’s your favorite song.

Those first days lull you into a false sense of security. Maybe letting your omega out, living as nature intended, won’t be the worst thing.

But after that first week, things start to take a turn. Your system is definitely cleared of the meds now. And Harry’s scent has faded from your nest and apartment. You sleep restlessly Tuesday night, and Wednesday morning is rough. Not only are the touch deprivation symptoms coming back, but now you’re exhausted on top of it. Part of you wants to open another bag of scented items that Harry gave you so you can fix your nest. But that would be silly since you’re traveling home this afternoon to be with your family for Thanksgiving.

Instead, you decide to pack one of those bags with you, so you have his scent if needed. You realize that you likely won’t, since being around your family tends to soothe your omega. While packs don’t really exist anymore there’s still an inherent connection to family members that simulates the connection of packmates.

Your cousins know you're an omega, and though no one ever explicitly talks about it, they take care of you in little ways. They subtly check on you, or they’ll create a makeshift nest of blankets so that you all can cuddle together during movie nights. Even though they’re betas, their presence, and their obvious love for you has always helped keep you balanced.

Plus, your oldest cousin now has two pups, one a toddler and one only a few months old. No one complains when you baby hog them, knowing that holding a pup is also very soothing for an omega.

Reenergized at the thought of seeing your family, you’re able to get out of bed and finish packing, making sure to include one unopened bag of Harry’s scented items just in case.

After finishing the last two projects you’re doing for work, you start the hour-long drive home. When you arrive, you’re greeted by your parents, aunt, uncle, and one of your cousins. They’ll all be staying at the house, while your other two out of town cousins, along with their spouses and the kids, rented an Airbnb nearby.

You and your cousin Kelly will be sharing your room. It’s not the first time, since you’re an only child and she’s the youngest of three so you were often put together during family trips. She’s a couple years younger, in her final year of college, but the two of you have always been close. She’s also a huge Harry Styles fan and you kind of can’t wait to spill the beans about your relationship with him.

It’s a chaotic afternoon as you all work on preparing the house to host everyone for the next few days. Everyone comes over for pizza dinner and it’s wonderful to be surrounded by so many people. There’s music playing, conversations flowing, and constant laughter. You sit and color with your cousin’s son and get some baby cuddles with her daughter. It’s a perfect night and takes your mind off your problems for the moment.

That night, you and Kelly are getting ready for bed when your phone buzzes. You quickly turn to grab it but she’s faster. You see the screen for a second and there’s definitely a text from Harry.

He’s saved in your phone as just “Harry”, so she doesn’t know exactly who you’re talking to, as evidenced by her immediately asking “Ooooh who’s Harry?”

“I’m going to tell you, but you cannot freak out, or tell anyone else yet, okay?” you reply.

She nods yes with a comically serious look on her face.

“Harry is Harry Styles.”

For a moment there is silence as she stares at you blankly. You’re startled when she suddenly shouts “WHAT?”

You jump before quickly shushing her, as you don’t want either of your parents to find out what you’re talking about.

“If you promise to stay quiet, I’ll tell you the whole story,” you state.

Kelly quickly sits down and mimes locking her lips shut, showing that she intends to listen. You sit on the bed across from her and dive in, starting from the first concert of his you went to, all the way until his visit last week. She listens intently, eyes wide in disbelief.

“So. Harry Styles is your boyfriend? And your alpha?” She says, and you nod to confirm. It sends butterflies through your belly, hearing someone else refer to Harry in that way. It’s been such a well-kept secret since the first interaction and it’s so nice to have someone close to you know all the details. It almost makes it more real somehow.

After answering all of Kelly’s questions she gets up to finish getting ready for bed. You pull up your phone to answer Harry’s text from earlier. He was reaching out to check on you and wish you a good night, and it warms your heart to know you’re on his mind even countries apart.

You sleep well that night and wake up feeling refreshed on Thanksgiving morning. After a quick breakfast and cup of tea you get down to business to help your mom prepare for dinner. The rest of your family arrives in the early afternoon and the party is soon in full swing.

The next morning is slow and lazy, everyone just hanging out and watching movies together. You all enjoy the Thanksgiving leftovers throughout the day, and by mid-afternoon you’ve brought out a few different games to play together. You’re feeling great, though you do with you could have your alpha by your side. That would make it truly perfect.

That night you and Kelly lay in bed watching a livestream of Harry’s show. The next morning everyone packs up to travel back home, including you.

Your apartment now feels extra lonely, so you quickly shower before building a new nest using the items Harry gave you. Since he doesn’t have a show, you Facetime for hours that afternoon. You tell him all about your visit home and fills you in on how his time in Mexico was.

You discuss when you can see each other again, a conversation which should make you happy, but instead becomes a bit stressful. While you want nothing more than to join Harry on tour, there’s still up to three weeks until your passport is definitely going to arrive. You’d never left the country before, never had plans to, and so you never really thought about getting one. If you could go back in time, you’d slap past you or being so unprepared.

“Christmas is more than three weeks away,” Harry says. “Would you consider coming to England for the holidays?”

“Like, with your family?” you inquire.

“I’d like for you to meet them,” he replies. “It’s going to be low-key this year. Just mum, Gemma, and Michal.”

“Okay. Yea, that sounds fun!” It does. Totally fun. Only fun. Not stressful at all to meet the family so soon.

“Do you think it’ll be a problem with your parents?”

“They’ve always wanted to spend the holidays on a vacation to South Carolina. Maybe I’ll make that my gift to them and then everyone will be happy,” you answer. It’s something you’ve wanted to do for them for years anyway and you finally have more than enough money in savings to make it happen.

“That sounds really nice,” he says. “How long do you think you can come for? I’d love to have you here for Christmas and New Years if possible.”

“I could do that. The next couple weeks will be busy at work, but it calms way down by Christmas. I’ll obviously have to work a bit while I’m there, but it shouldn’t be too bad.”

“Fantastic! I’ll get a potential itinerary over to you and you can let me know if it needs any changes.”

You talk a little longer before hanging up to go to sleep. You’re feeling better now knowing that you have plans to see him, even if you are disappointed that it’s still a month away.

And what an awful month it turns out to be. Harry does everything he can to be helpful, but there’s just not much he can do for touch deprivation from a distance. You talk on the phone as much as possible and the scented clothes he sent you are a true lifesaver. But every day becomes a struggle. The constant itch causes you to scratch your skin raw, no number of blankets can get you warm, and you’ve had to cut way down on exercise since it always leaves you dizzy.

You’re so exhausted that packing is a nearly full day chore, but the knowledge that you’ll see Harry in less than 48 hours is enough to motivate you to finish the task. You’re taking the red eye and landing in the morning the day before Christmas. Harry informed you a few days prior that he’ll be in London for a meeting when you land, and that Gemma will be picking you up. You’re disappointed that you won’t see him right away, but he promised he’ll be there in time for dinner.

Your normal travel anxiety is ten times worse than usual, partially due to it being your first international flight and partially due to the lack of suppressants and soothers that you’d relied on for years. Harry had insisted on purchasing you a first-class ticket, which you fought him on, saying it was unnecessary. But now that you’ve finished boarding, you’re grateful. You’re already overstimulated from being around so many people in the airport and it’s nice to have so much space during the flight.

You try to get some rest but for some reason you just cannot fall asleep. Instead, you listen to the podcasts you downloaded while curled up, face tucked into Harry’s sweater that you saved just for this trip.

The moment you land you get a text from Gemma that she’s on her way and will be there in half an hour, giving you time to collect your luggage and get to the pickup area. You’re too tired to be nervous about meeting your boyfriend’s sister for the first time, which is a true blessing at this moment.

You’re only waiting outside for a minute before you see her pull up. She hops out of the car to greet you with a hug and help you get your suitcase into the trunk.

She makes conversation throughout the drive, but can tell you’re exhausted and says, “Mums got some breakfast waiting at home and Harry’s room is ready for you, so you can get a nap before he gets back.”

She pulls up to the house a moment later and quickly grabs your bag before leading you inside.

“Mum!” she calls out as she opens the door. Moments later, Anne steps into the entryway and pulls you in for a hug, saying, “It’s so nice to finally meet you! Harry cannot stop talking about you.” You smile and blush at that and reply, “It’s nice to meet you as well. Thank you for having me.”

“Of course! We couldn’t be more excited that you’re joining us for the holidays! Now come, you must be starving.”

She leads you into the kitchen and the three of you sit together and have a late breakfast. They do most of the talking, which you appreciate.

After you’re done eating you try to clean up, but Anne stops you saying, “Leave everything, please, you’re our guest. You must be tired; Gemma can bring you up to Harry’s room so you can rest a bit.”

“That would be great, thank you so much,” you reply.

Gemma leads you upstairs, pointing out the bathroom before leading you to Harry’s bedroom. You’re immediately hit with his scent, so potent that for a second you think he must be there with you.

You quickly scan the room, taking in the decorations and all his books and belongings. It’s like a shrine of Harry, and you want to examine everything, but you’re truly exhausted. As soon as Gemma steps out you start getting ready for a nap. There’s a pile of clothes on the bed, a t-shirt and some pajama pants. They’re doused in Harry’s scent and without even thinking, you change into them.

The room starts to spin around you, and you immediately get into bed. The world goes black the second your head hits the pillow. 

Nearly two hours later Harry arrives home. He’s earlier than expected thanks to his afternoon meeting getting cancelled. You’re unaware of his return, still knocked out in his bed.

“Hi Mum, hey Gemma,” he says, walking into the living room where the two of them are watching a movie together.

“Harry! We didn’t expect you for quite a while, dear,” Anne replies.

“Last meeting was cancelled, apparently there’s a storm up north so half the team couldn’t make it. They’ll reschedule after the holidays. Is Y/N here?” As much as he enjoys talking with his family, he hasn’t seen you in over a month and doesn’t want to spend another minute away from you.

“Yea, she’s taking a nap in your room,” Gemma replies.

Harry sniffs the air before saying, “Hm, that’s odd,” and sniffing the air again.

“What is?”

“I can’t catch her scent.”

“She probably wore some strong scent blockers for the flight,” Anne reassures him, picking up on his shift from excited to worried.

“Probably,” he replies, but he’s not sold on that explanation. “I’m just gonna go up and check on her.”

He turns and heads upstairs, stopping in the bathroom quickly to wash his hands and splash some water on his face, before changing into a clean outfit he’d left in there earlier. He knows you’ve likely been bombarded with other scents during your travels and wants to make sure no strangers scents cling to him.

Once he’s sure he smells only of himself, he crosses the hall. He knocks on the door gently but enters slowly when he gets no reply. At first he thinks you’re sleeping. You look asleep, curled up in his blankets. But you don’t seem at rest.

Your breathing is rapid, not deep and even like it would be if you’re asleep. And he can hear the faint whimpers that indicate you’re distressed. He stands there for a moment, shocked at the state he found you in, but another whine from you kicks him into action.

He turns out of the room, shouting for Gemma to come upstairs. She runs up, hearing the edge of panic in her little brother’s voice.

“How long has Y/N been up here?” he asks, needing as much information as he can get.

“Maybe two hours. Why? What’s going on?”

“Did she seem like, upset at all? Or spacey or dizzy? Did she seem off in any way?”

“Not that I noticed. She was just really tired. Harry, what is it?”

“I think she dropped,” he replies.

It’s quiet for a moment before Gemma says, “You said she had to go off her medications right? And she’s been without her alpha for a month, so she has some intense touch deprivation. Plus, she’s exhausted from traveling to another country. Being in your space, which probably reeks of your scent, might have put her omega over the edge.”

Harry nods along, knowing his sister is probably right.

“I should’ve been with her. Gemma, I have no idea what type of drop this is! Maybe it’s a good one because she’s in my space, but she seems distressed.”

“Harry, take a breath. You know what you need to do right now. So calm down and be there for your omega. Would you feel better if mum and I left? Gave you guys some privacy?”

“I don’t want to kick you guys out.”

“Of course not. We have some last-minute shopping to do. We were just waiting until you came home. Go, take care of your girl. We’ll see you later. And call if you need anything, okay?”

“Okay. Thank you Gems,” he replies. Gemma walks downstairs and Harry takes a minute to calm himself. He knows that he needs his emotions in check to be able to help you. Just as he’s confident that his feelings won’t negatively affect you he hears the front door close, indicating that the two of you are now alone in the house.

He walks into the room and finds that you haven’t moved. He first crouches by the bed, leaning close in hopes that you’ll notice he’s there and he won’t startle you. There’s no change so he starts to emit calming pheromones. This seems to catch your attention, and Harry watches as you subconsciously seek him out.

Now that you seem to know that your alpha is there, he climbs into the bed with you. He does so slowly, watching your reaction the whole time. He gently shifts you to hold you against his chest and angles your face so that your nose is against his scent gland. He continues to let out the calming pheromones which seem to be working, as you’ve stopped whimpering.

Harry gives you some time to stay under, but he’s fairly sure this is a bad drop, so he starts to bring you out sooner than later.

“It’s time to come up, omega,” he says. “Can you come back to me? I’d really like to see you. Been waiting so long.”

It doesn’t work right away, but after a few minutes of Harry talking to you, the haze of the drop starts to fade. Finally, your eyes blink open and meet his.

“There you are,” he says, his voice relieved.

“Alpha?” you say, still dazed and confused. Your body feels heavy, and you don’t recognize your surroundings. Everything feels strange, but you know that you’re okay, now that your alpha is there.

“I’m here, omega. I’ve got you.” You’re immediately soothed by his presence, and by his words. Your brain finally clicks on, and you fully realize that you’re in Harry’s room, in his arms. You begin to shift, Harry reaching out to make sure you’re steady. He realizes what you’re trying to do and moves as well until you’re situated in a way that you can both scent each other at the same time.

You sigh as his nose brushes against your scent glad before doing the same to him. It isn’t long before your scents mix together to fill the room.

“Are you alright, love?” Harry asks.

“I’m good, now that you’re here,” you truthfully reply, blushing at your vulnerable statement.

“I’ve missed you, so much,” he says before moving to kiss you. His lips move lazily against yours, and you have to swallow back a whine at the feeling of him against you.

After a couple minutes he pulls back and says, “Mum and Gemma are out. What would you like to do next? Do you want to sleep a little more, or eat, or take a shower?”

You think about it for a moment and reply, “Can we take a bath?”

“We? Together?” he questions.

You blush and say, “I definitely want to wash all the travel grime off me, but I kind of don’t want to leave your side. It’s that’s okay with you.”

“It’s more than okay with me, as long as you’re comfortable.”

“I am,” you say with a shy smile.

You both get out of bed, and Harry collects towels and clean clothes for both of you. He then fills the tub, pulling his shirt off so he can test the water without his sleeve getting wet. Your heart starts to race as you realize that you’re both about to see each other naked for the first time. For some reason you’re grateful that it’s in this setting, rather than a sexual one. It lessens the nerves, knowing that there’s no expectations here.

He slides off his pants, leaving him in boxer briefs. You do the same, then throw your shirt off as well before you can overthink too much. You weren’t wearing a bra, meaning your chest is now exposed to Harry. He takes a deep breath before saying, “You’re beautiful.”

Harry quickly shuts the water off and turns back to you. “We can stay like this if you’d like? Keep our underpants on?”

You shake your head no and your hands go to the waistband of your panties.

“Together?” you ask.

“Together,” he replies, and follows your lead, slowly lowering his underwear until you’re both standing there, completely bare. You fight off the urge to cover your body and hear Harry quietly say, “Absolutely perfect.” This compliment gives you the courage to look up, and your eyes quickly scan over him, briefly stopping at his groin. Your breath stutters as you take in his impressive size, and his smirks when he notices.

“C’mon,” he says. “Let’s get in before the water cools.”

He has you get in first, keeping you steady so you don’t slip. He slides in behind you and gently pulls you, so your back is resting against his chest. You feel his groin brush your skin, and tense for a moment before relaxing. You’re surprisingly comfortable with the whole situation.

You both stay like that, silently relaxing and enjoying each other’s company. Eventually, Harry says, “Scooch forward, let me wash your hair.”

He does so, first shampooing, then putting in conditioner, being extremely gentle as he does so. He then grabs a shower puff and spreads some body wash on it, before giving you a look asking if it’s okay for him to clean your body. You nod yes, and he focuses on rubbing the soap over your limbs and torso. He makes a mental note of the scratch marks on your skin, and frowns at how bad your touch deprivation must have been to cause this. He hesitates with his hand resting on your thigh. You open your legs slightly, silently giving him permission to clean between them as well. A gasp escapes your mouth at the feeling, but it only lasts a moment before he’s done and moving away.

Harry quickly washes himself as well, and by the time you’re both soap free, the water has become uncomfortably cool. He gets out and dries off first before helping you again and wrapping you in a fluffy towel.

Once you’re dry you both get dressed and head downstairs to watch a movie together. That’s how Anne and Gemma find you when they arrive home an hour later.

After talking for a few minutes Harry checks the time and gets up, saying, “I should really get started on dinner.”

“Want any help?” Anne asks but he quickly shakes his head and says, “I’ve got it, you girls relax.”

You last five, maybe ten minutes before you’re making an excuse to join Harry in the kitchen.

“Hey, you,” he says when you walk into the room. “Miss me?” he asks jokingly.

You chuckle awkwardly, not wanting to admit that he’s right. It feels clingy, but you’re still shaking off the drop, and the touch deprivation, and being away from Harry is physically painful. He picks up on this and immediately stops what he’s doing to focus on you. He pulls you in for a hug and whispers, “I missed you too.”

You stay in the kitchen with him, helping chop veggies for the stir fry. As soon as it’s ready the four of you sit together at the table. The food is delicious, because of course Harry’s a good cook on top of his other talents. After dinner is done and cleaned up you’re all back at the table with mugs of tea.

Though it’s not exactly late, you find it hard to keep your eyes open. Harry immediately senses how sleepy you are, and the two of you say a quick goodnight to Anne and Gemma before heading upstairs. You brush your teeth side-by-side in the bathroom, feeling very domestic. He hands you some of his clothes to wear to bed.

“I did pack my own clothes you know,” you say while changing into the ones he gave you.

“I know, but you just look so cute in mine,” he replies, his eyes soft as he looks at you in a pair of his pajama pants and an oversized sweater.

The two of you get into bed and Harry opens his arms for you. After getting comfortable together you quickly fall into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.

Christmas eve, Christmas, and Boxing Day pass with lots of gifts exchanged, movies watched, games played, and meals shared. The rest of the week is both exciting and relaxing. You do a little work each morning before going on an adventure with Harry and then ending the day with a movie.

It’s wonderful getting to know Harry’s family and see where he grew up. People recognize him when you’re out in public, but it’s not like it would be in any big city. He’s not being swarmed by fans, but rather greeted by his neighbors who are excited to see him home for the holidays.

The two of you get invited to a New Years Eve party in London, and after debating for a bit you both decide to go, planning to leave early so you can ring in the New Year just the two of you.

You drive to the city early that day to settle into his home there and go out for a late lunch. His house is beautiful, and you’re stunned by how well decorated it is. You tell him this and can see the way he lights up with pride at your compliments. Somehow he doesn’t get spotted while you’re walking around London, so you guys get to enjoy an uninterrupted meal and a walk where he points out some of his favorite spots.

He senses you getting cold and immediately routes back to his house. You both shower and get ready for the party, dressing up more than you ever have together. You put on a sparkly green, long sleeve dress that falls to mid-thigh. This gets paired with your black heeled boots, opting for some comfort and protection in the footwear department. 

He’s wearing a pair of black slacks, and a silver top, buttoned halfway. The two of you spend a moment just staring at each other, completely at a loss for words. Harry’s first to regain his senses, saying, “You look absolutely stunning, omega.”

“Thank you alpha. You look very handsome,” you reply.

He walks closer, until his hands wrap around your waist, and he pulls you flush against him. You gasp at the sudden move, and he leans down to kiss you, his tongue slipping through your parted lips. For a few minutes you get lost in the feeling of him moving against you. Slick starts to leak into your panties, and the groan Harry let’s out tells you he can smell it. His hips roll harder against you for another moment before he pulls back. Both of you take deeps breaths, and you note how blown his pupils are.

You turn to walk back into the bedroom and Harry asks, “Where are you going?”

“I’ve gotta change my underwear,” you reply.

“Do you have to?”

“Yes, Harry,” you say through a laugh. “I can’t go to a party smelling like slick!”

“Sarah’s going to be the only other alpha there, I’m sure she won’t be bothered.”

“Harry, behave!”

“No promises on that.”

You roll your eyes playfully before walking away to clean yourself up. By the time you get back Harry has his coat on and is holding yours.

There’s still a hint of arousal in his scent and he says, “Are you sure we have to go? We could just stay here, get out of these clothes…” he trails off suggestively.

“Yes, we have to go. You already committed. We don’t, however, have to stay. So let’s go so we can make an appearance and then get back here and see what we can do about getting out of these clothes.”

Harry smiles at the confirmation that you’re on the same page as him. He helps you slip on your coat and the two of you leave the house.

Luckily the party is in his neighborhood so the two of you walk there. You’re greeted by Harry’s friends when you arrive, and immediately start to catch up with Mitch and Sarah. Harry never leaves your side, his arm always wrapped protectively around your waist. Some people may see this as a possessive alpha move, but to you it means safety and comfort.

You stay at the party for a couple hours before ducking out around 11PM. Harry continues to hold you close the whole walk back, and the air is definitely charged with a new tension. His scent has shifted slightly, a hint of spice added to his normal warm smells.

Once in the house you both calmly remove your coats and shoes, neither of you making the first move just yet. It’s like you want the tension to grow until you can’t stand it anymore. You take some initiative and walk upstairs to the bedroom with Harry following behind.

He finally breaks when you arrive in the bedroom, and he turns you to face him before crashing his lips to yours. You can’t hold back the whine of pleasure, and if the way he groans and tightens his grip on you is any indication, he’s a fan of the noise you make.

His hands start to move down your sides until they reach the bare skin of your legs. He starts to slide them back up, now going under your skirt as he moves to press kisses to your neck. You loop your arms over his shoulders and tilt your head to give him more room. Your skirt bunches as his hands make their way to the sides of your torso. In a show of strength, he lifts you up and lays you on the bed.

He crawls over you, and you reach up to unbutton the rest of his shirt and push it off. It’s your turn to slide your hands over his sides, loving the feeling of the smooth skin beneath your fingers. Harry places more kisses to your neck before moving down until he’s placing a kiss between your covered breasts.

You feel the slick coating your center, knowing your panties are absolutely ruined. Both of your scents are growing stronger, his becoming spicier while yours turns sweeter. It mixes together deliciously, and you could grow addicted to the smell.

“Can I take this off?” Harry asks, gripping the bottom of your dress in his hands.

“Yes,” you reply as you sit up slightly so he can pull it off of you. His breathing stops as most of your body is bared in front of him. His hand drifts towards your chest and he looks at you with a silent question. You nod, giving him permission to touch you. He doesn’t hesitate, and you moan as his large hands cup your breasts before his thumbs move across your nipples. You never knew just a simple touch could feel so good, but his hands are like magic.

He spends minutes focusing on your chest, first with his hands, then his mouth. You’re already a panting mess beneath him. When he pulls away your hands go to his waistband, fingertips sliding under just a tiny, teasing amount. Harry gets the message and quickly removes his pants, socks, and underwear. Your mouth waters at the sight in front of you.

He gets back on the bed and slides his hands to the last article of clothing covering your body. “Off, please” you say before he can even ask, getting tired of waiting and wanting nothing more than him inside of you.

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath as he pulls the material down and off your legs. The smell of your slick becomes more potent, and you swear you hear Harry literally grown as he breaths it in. He moves back up your body and his lips find yours in a needy kiss. His fingers find your entrance and you keen as one slowly pushes inside. You continue to make out and opens you up to ensure you’re ready for him. At the same time, you reach out to grab his hard cock, gently pumping a few times.

Harry pulls away and reaches into the bedside table drawer to pull out a condom. As he’s pulling it on you have a moment of nerves. You’re not a virgin, but it’s been a while. And you’ve never been with an alpha before, and you can see by looking at him that there’s definitely truth about alphas being gifted in the size department.

Sending your new hesitance, Harry says, “Hey, you ok?” You nod, but he doesn’t fully believe you, so he adds, “We don’t have to do this right now. We can stop, or keep doing what we were doing, we don’t need to go all the way.”

“I want to,” you answer. “I want this. I want you. I’ve just never been knotted, and I’m not sure I’m ready for that.”

He nods, expression serious, and says, “We can have sex without me knotting you. Is that what you’d like?”

“I’d like that. But will you feel, you know, satisfied?” The last thing you want is to get pleasure if he’s not getting to feel it with you.

“Trust me, I will be more than satisfied.”

“Okay.”

“Okay? Want to continue?”

“I do,” you confirm with a smile.

He leans down to press a gentle kiss to your lips. It’s soft, and sweet, a noticeable difference to the intense kisses from earlier. And it works to get rid of the last of your nerves. His hand moves back to your entrance, collecting some of the slick gathered there and coating his cock with it.

Harry continues to kiss you as he lines up and slowly presses inside of you. Once he’s fully inside he pulls back to look at you. Your eyes meet and there’s a moment of connection unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. Not only does your body feel full, but your heart does as well.

“Alpha,” you say breathlessly.

“My perfect omega,” he replies.

After giving you a moment to adjust to his size he starts to move. The thrusts are slow at first, but he picks up pace. He grabs your leg to wrap around his hip, and the change in angle has you seeing starts.

It only takes a few minutes before you feel the familiar tingle in your core, and a press of his fingers to your clit send you over the edge. He works you through your orgasm and then pulls out. He removes the condom and wraps his hand around his cock. It only takes a few strokes before his knot expands and he comes, his release coating your chest and belly.

Harry gets up and grabs a towel to clean both of you off. You both get under the covers, and he pulls you to lay on his chest. He checks the clock and sees that it is two minutes past midnight.

“Happy new year, omega,” he says.

“Happy new year, alpha,” you reply as you drift off to sleep, comforted by his arms and the smell of your combined scents.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN: Thank you so much for reading! Probably wrapping up this story in a couple of chapters, so let me know if there's anything you might want to see!

Taglist: @akkatz @pandeebearstyles @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite@theekyliepage@numafarawayglxy @booberry019-blog @hillzrry@ssareidbby @gem1712 @acesofspadess@houseofdilfs@shaquille-0atmeal-1@kissitnhekitchen @amateurduck @poguestyleskye@n0vaj3an@snwells@drunk-teens-doing-drugs ; @fdl305@creativelyeva@daphnesutton@selluequestrian@lovingfurypanda @stardream14 @tbsloneely@eversincehs1@boomitsallie1@rose-garden-dreamz @fictionalmensblog @buckybarnessimpp @ottawaoutlander @storyschanging @jerseygirlinca @stylesfever @alwayslovingharry

[t-art-c]

"This is not love, Scaramouche..."

CW: Domestic Abuse, Emotional Manipulation, Human Trafficking, Manhandling, Self-deprecation, Toxic Cycle, Implied Stalking, and Gaslighting

A/N: GUYS!! Just to remind that I do not condone the actions I write for my yandere oneshots. This is only explorations of how abuse or toxicity affects a person. There may be inaccuracies, but I always try to make it as accurate as possible and always give respect, especially towards victims.

-----

The words you uttered did nothing but make your husband rage. His eyes turned sharper, and his scowl even deeper. He tightened his grip over the whip he has been using to punish you yet again over something menial.

He would always say that it may be menial to you but it is detrimental to him. As the spouse of the Balladeer, Scaramouche, every action you make will be reflected to him. So, every action you do that is not to his taste meant that he married a slob, a whore and every insult under the Sun.

There was this one time when the Jester visited Scaramouche's manor. Your husband was not home at that moment so you decided to be proper host and offer tea to the harbinger.

The Jester had an overwhelming presence that made you shake. So when you were pouring him tea, you have accidentally spilled some over his white coat. With terrified eyes, you bowed your head to the ground and begged for your life.

Fortunately, he spared you and told you that he will have it washed when he leaves. Unfortunately, your husband witnessed the whole thing. He pulled you into an empty room and berated you over how you embarrassed him with your actions.

For the second time of that day, you apologized with your head down and just took all the insults he threw at you.

After taking all the abuse for years, you have finally had enough. You do not even care what would happen to you when you confront him.

Death?

Yes, you had nothing to lose anymore when all he ever did was take everything from you.

"What would you even know about love?"

He went there. In all honestly, you should not have been this surprised, but you can always count on your husband to know how to hurt you.

"More than you ever will..."

Saying it felt freeing. There is not an ounce of fear in your body, not even anger. You felt happy. Without raising your head, you know that he shaking in anger, maybe even grinding his teeth.

A few seconds pass, but nothing happened. There was only an uncomfortable silence surrounding the both of you.

"You do, don't you?"

He walked closer and made you look at him in the eyes.

"But that's what I love about you."

He slapped you hard to the point you fell to your side. The wounds you have gotten prior from his previous punishment throbbed and started bleeding again.

Tears started to form from the corner of your eyes. You held the cheek he slapped and smiled bitterly.

"As I said again, this putrid thing you force on me will never be love."

You stood up from the ground and stared at your husband.

"Every single day, I have to tell myself that what we have is just something other couples go through. But I know deep down, it's wrong, and abnormal."

You walked closer to him and softly held his hands.

"What did I do to deserve this?"

Scaramouche's face softened. He tenderly held your bruised cheek and placed a kiss on it.

"You deserve everything. My love, my wrath, my loneliness, my happiness, every single one of it."

-----

Love truly is a fascinating thing.

How cruel of your husband to choose you to be the receiver of his putrid love. A man who will forever stay young while you grow older and inevitably leave him all alone again.

Maybe, that is why he shows you all of himself. He knows that one day you will not be there by his side to give him comfort. Even if the comfort he feels from you might be just like warmth from an already extinguished bonfire.

You did love this awful husband of yours once upon a time. But now, you do not know what to feel for him. Anger? Sadness? Regret for even meeting him one faithful day?

In a rare occasion where he will allow you to explore the outside world again with him by your side, you have always thought of running away. It will be futile as he is much more stronger and faster than you could ever be. But if you do hypothetically escape, where will you go?

You were a nobody, prior your life with Scaramouche. Not even one person ever knew of your existence. Just some orphan who was able to survive the unforgiving world by stealing from other people. That is until you messed with the wrong person and was taken to a human trafficking ring.

Other orphans like you from the ring had their names taken away. Nobodies who did not bother to care for each other, because caring for someone in a dangerous place meant weakness that can be taken advantage of.

When The Balladeer suddenly visited the ring, you were ecstatic.

Finally, there might be a chance for freedom for you from this wretched place. Finally, a place far better than this one.

You did everything you could to make him notice you. Made yourself look pitiful in hopes that he would glance and choose you.

But, he never did. Instead he chose a young boy from beside you.

"I'll take this one. And make it quick."

"Certainly, my Lord!"

It did not work. Of course, it would not work. Who in their right mind would choose someone as weak as you. The Balladeer probably already have a specific person in his mind.

You were not able to stop the tears from coming out your eyes.

It was probably the most pathetic you have ever felt. Not even once have you cried when you were beaten and starved by your captors. But you just know yourself that you will never be able to escape this place.

This place will be your resting place.

"Hm... I'll take this one too."

In your self-wallowing, you did not even notice that the Balladeer is standing right in front of your cage. Only then you noticed when you were roughly grabbed by the arm and dragged away by his men.

The boy he picked was nowhere to be seen.

In your shock, you can not even verbalize how thankful you are of him. So, you just cried again.

"Again with the crying. I order you to stop that or I'll be sending you back in that hellhole."

You dried your eyes quickly from his threat, in fear that he will make true of his promise. However, the dirt from the shirt you have been wearing since you were taken stung your eyes, which caused you to tear up more.

"Tch. You can't even follow orders properly."

You started to tremble from the glare he sent your way.

"I apologize, my Lord! T-the dirt from my shirt just stung my eyes that's all. I hope you can forgive my mistake!"

Just before he says something, you have arrived at a wooden carriage. Inside, you can see the boy from before curled at the furthest corner. The man gripping your arm let go of it and ordered you to get in.

After that initial interaction with the Balladeer, you have seen him until a year later.

-----

You loved Scaramouche with all your heart. He is probably the only person your heart will ever know to love. Even after everything, your husband will always be the one you adore.

The pathetic, worthless you who will always crawl back to him after every punishment. Seeking his love and forgiveness.

After all, who else would be able to withstand his overbearing, opressive love?

"I will always love you..."

The way you said it was bitter, but accepting.

Your husband only stared as he pulled your head to lay on his shoulder. The scent of his sakura cologne filling your senses. He held you tight as if he was afraid to lose you.

"You know I will never leave you..."

You hugged him as you contemplate about the life you have lived.

"Hm... I will not let you even if you tried."

A laugh went out of your mouth at his response towards you. Your shoulders were shaking as you cried.

-----

It has been a long time since you last saw the Balladeer. It took you some time to fully adapt to your new environment. As a new orphan recruit of the Fatui, you were given a new name by your coworkers.

Pavel.

They told you it meant "small". Which you guess is understandable since you are the shortest of all the recruits. It does not mean you are happy with it.

Work in the Fatui can sometimes be very boring or hectic. It is currently in its hectic stage since you have received news of the Balladeer visiting to check on how things are going.

"Pavel! Can you help me with auditing?"

Lev.

He was the boy you were with when the two of you were bought by the Balladeer. Just like how you were given a nonsensical name, Lev was also a victim of it. Your coworkers said that Lev meant "lion", as they are always reminded of a lion when they see the boy.

Over the course of a year, the two of you have grown closer to the point of seeing each other as family. Although, you two are close, not once have the two of you ever shared about your lives prior the Fatui.

"Alright, which part should I help you with?"

The boy gave you a thankful look. He then handed you another notepad to write into and pointed over a pile of papers on a table not far from him.

"Just those. Don't worry, I already finished most of it. I just want to take a quick break. My head is killing me."

You gave him a pat in the head and let out a sigh.

"Remember to visit the clinic."

He let out a laugh and exited the room.

You proceeded to audit the pile of papers. It was quite peaceful, even if there a bustle of people just outside of the room. Everyone is working hard to await the arrival of their Habinger.

It has been a while since you last saw the Balladeer. No other interactions happened between the two of you after being forced in the carriage.

He probably got his hands full the moment we arrived at Snezhnaya. Even with his youthful face, he is still a cutthroat harbinger.

"To think there's someone lurking in this room"

You jumped from your spot as you heard a voice just behind you. You turned around and saw the person everyone has been preparing for to arrive.

"L-lord Scaramouche!"

You kneeled one leg on the ground as you greeted the Balladeer with respect.

"Rise."

You stood up and maintained yourself to not anger him. Knowing his temperament from what your coworkers have told you, he is not to be messed with.

"What are you currently doing?"

You showed him your notepad.

"I am currently auditing some papers right now, my Lord."

He let out a sound of acknowledgement as he waved his hand.

"Follow me."

Without wasting a second, you walked in front of him and opened the door, then went behind him to follow.

The two of you walked in silence as the people around you stopped what they were doing and kneeled towards their Lord.

"We welcome you, Lord Scaramouche!"

The Balladeer waved his hand and everyone piped down. He spoke of an event that every single Fatui member must attend to. A festival that let those with family to go back home and spend time with them.

Everyone was excited and have started talking amongst themselves after the Balladeer has explained the situation.

The two of you walked back to the room where the two of you met and saw Lev already working on the audit.

"Lord Scaramouche!"

He kneeled and bowed his head.

"Are you the one who was supposed to be auditing?"

The boy gulped from the inquiry.

"Yes, my Lord. I have asked Pavel to cover for me for a while as a I go visit the clinic to get some medications."

The Balladeer glared down at him.

"I order you to never do that again. Do the job given to you, even if you're sick. I don't care what excuses you have."

"A-affirmative, my Lord..."

After all of that, you have never seen Lev again. You were taken by the Balladeer and have started working directly under him.

Your old coworkers who you thought you were close with never interacted with you again. Every time you try to talk to them, they will make an excuse to run away from you.

It made you feel disappointed as you feel alone once again.

-----

"Do you really think my love for you is disgusting?"

Scaramouche's hug constricted you body against him. It is getting more difficult to breathe.

"Yes. It's so disgusting that it makes me want to puke."

Perhaps you have a death wish, but you know yourself that your husband would never let you die until he has his fill of you.

"How brave of you to be truthful to me. But I guess that's what I love about you. Only you will I ever allow to insult me like this."

His grip on you became even more tighter as he place his head on the junction of your neck and shoulder.

A disgusted part of you tells you to push him away, but then there is that lovesick part of you that feels comforted in the pain of his hug. The dichotomy between your emotions leaves you breathless.

He knows how to play with your heart. Maybe he already knew how much he has wrapped you around his finger. He might as well have actually tied invisible strings around your joints like a puppet.

It sometimes makes you feel confused of what you should be even doing. Since everything you have ever done seems to have only inconvenienced him.

"Love is supposed to make me feel safe in your company, Scaramouche. Not once have you ever tried to make me feel safe."

You started to comb his hair with your fingers.

"But for some reason, I feel even more safe knowing that you hurt me. All the insults and the pain you have forsaken me with, I openly accepted"

Scaramouche rubbed your back as he kept his silence.

"We are so different from each other. Yet, we are unfortunately perfect together."

-----

It has been a month since you started working for the Balladeer. He never called you by the name that was given to you by your former coworkers. For some odd reason, he asked for your real name.

"My real name is (Name), my Lord."

It was the name left to you by your mother before abandoning you in the streets as a child. You never had much use of it as nobody would ask a dirty rat like yourself for it.

"(Name)..."

The way the Balladeer whispered your name sent shivers down your spine. Your cheeks started to have a rosy hue from how he kept repeating it under his breath.

It made you feel strange as this is not a befitting behavior from a subordinate.

"If you do not mind me asking, my Lord?"

He stared at you

"Speak."

You clasped your hands together as you finally asked your question.

"May I visit a friend of mine for my day off this coming Saturday?"

The air around suddenly became heavy.

"No, you can not. After all, there's nobody waiting for you anymore."

Even in such an icy environment, sweat started to fall from your forehead.

"Pardon?"

The Balladeer let out a chuckle as he placed his cheek in his hand."

"I have eyes everywhere. What do you think happened to him?"

Without even answering him, you bolted out of his office and ran through the cold weather. You were determined to see the answer for yourself and hope to whichever archon is listening to you to this one time to grant you goodwill.

Your lungs started burning from how much you are inhaling the cold air. But it never even made you stop running as you finally reached the apartment complex specifically built for Fatui agents.

Since the you and Lev came together, they made it so to make the two of you roommates. It was a fairly average room for two, but since you two are always at work, it is kept quite boring. Only Lev's action figures are strewn over the place.

You opened the door with the key you have kept in your person.

"LEV?!"

There was no reply to your call. Only silence and an equally empty room with no warmth. Lev's action figures were nowhere to be seen.

"I guess no one's home."

Is there truly no archon who will ever listen to you? Is this why back in the human trafficking ring, nobody formed friendships with each other?

"Since you've already seen your answer, let's head back."

With nothing else to do in an empty room, you followed the Balladeer back to his office.

The silence in the office was deafening as he signed the papers you have handed to him. Only the noise of his pen scratching the paper surrounds the both of you.

"What if I tell you that I'm meant to be a god? Would you worship me?"

You stared at him.

"If that is what you want from me, my Lord. Then yes, I will worship you."

He blinked at you.

"What a fascinating answer. However, it's not what I'm looking for. And here you wonder why the gods don't listen to the likes of you."

What else does he want from you then?

-----

"I finally have what is rightfully mine. That annoying fox and that dumb traveler made it all too easy."

Scaramouche is currently bandaging the wounds he has inflicted on you while recounting the story of obtaining the electro gnosis. To be frank, you could care less of what he thinks as you do not like gods.

"What's your plan now?"

He glared at you as if you have just asked the stupidest of quesitons.

"Become a god, what else?"

You laughed.

"How boring."

Your husband dropped your arm and stood up from the bed. He carried with him the first-aid kit back to the bathroom. You laid down your bed and await his return.

When he went back, he made you pull the blanket over the two of you.

"I'll not be back for a few weeks. Even if I don't want to, I have to since only that bastard the Doctor can do something about it."

You frowned at him.

"The Doctor is dubious at best. Are you really sure?"

Scaramouche pulled the blanket over the two of you to shut you up.

He may be hundreds of years old, he can never stop being a brat. But you guess, that is one of the few things you find endearing about him. Even if there are more bad things than good things you can see about him, your heart will always beat for him and him only.

You hope this endeavor of his is finally the thing the ends him.

"Even to the end, I will never be apart from you. For you are the only one I have left to lose."

[starryknight-tarot]

18+ 𝓣𝓱𝓮𝓲𝓻 𝓯𝓪𝓷𝓽𝓪𝓼𝓲𝓮𝓼 𝓪𝓫𝓸𝓾𝓽 𝔂𝓸𝓾

pile 1 -- > pile 2

pile 3 -- > pile 4 my masterlist<3 . paid readings

Hi beautiful souls!✨ I am back with my first +18 reading which means if you are younger than 18 please do not interact with this reading as it is not for you. I will be looking into your person's fantasies about you. This could be a crush, partner, future spouse, fwb, whatever you have in mind. Remember to meditate, take a deep breath and pick whatever pile calls to you the most. Make sure to take what resonates and leave what doesn't. Lastly, I would like to thank you for all your love and support on my readings. It means a lot ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა

Pile 1

Cards: Four of Cups, Page of Wands rx, Two of Wands, The Emperor, The Tower, Nine of Cups, Ace of Cups rx, The Fool rx Back of the deck: Two of Cups

Pile 1, your person has to restrain themselves from you. I am getting that your person has been crushing on your for a very long time but they feel too nervous to approach you with a love offering. I keep hearing this could be your best friend or a close friend but this may not be for everyone. But your person has A LOT of unattended feelings towards you that is getting harder and harder (wink wonk) to hold back. This person has a lot of passion towards you and really wants to rip your clothes off I keep hearing. If you let them, they would show you a good time. For some reason your person feels scared to really tell you how they feel cause they are afraid you are gonna reject them. But I feel like they may distance themselves because they can't control themselves around you. They may get an erection or wet when they are around you. They want to make sure your pleasure comes first. This person likes to give head. This person wants to be the best fuck you've ever had. I keep hearing they wanna kiss you all over your body, so this person definitely is into body worshiping. I heard they wanna show you how beautiful you are (aw). This might come through with gentle words in your ear as they wreak you. If you are into roles, your person seems like either soft dom or a service sub, making sure you're ok and they would have AMAZING aftercare. I am getting pretty vanilla vibes but it would be very passionate sex with a lot of emotion and love. I am hearing they would pour all their love for you in bed. Your person would love to see you in lingerie, especially lighter colors. They may want to fuck with the lingerie on. I am getting that your person may get jealous if anyone else were to see you like that so they would wanna keep things in the bedroom or around the house if nobody else was home, I'm hearing specially the washing machine. But they would make the room super comfortable with candles, dim lights, and rose petals on fancy occasions. Ok listen this may sound spooky but they wanna watch you sleep, I don't think in a creepy way, I think in a very loving way like would just be so happy to have you. Your person really wants to take action on this connection but they are a little too anxious and in their head to take action. You will probably be the one to move this relationship forward.

Advice Cards:

Expect good things to come to you Issues of balance are at hand You are moving beyond your old form. Congratulations! Keep the faith. Stay intentioned. Your perseverance will pay off. Take good care of yourself, especially your heart. Put your tasks and goals in order

Channeled Songs:

Pile 2 Cards: Six of Swords, Death, Five of Wands rx, Three of Pentacles rx, Knight of Cups rx, Temperance, Ace of Swords, Page of Pentacles Back of the deck: The Magician

I feel like by just making eye contact with this person, you can bring them to their knees. Your person could be your ex but I am hearing more of a past fling or maybe just an old crush of yours that you might not have seen for a while. very specific lol. This person regrets not asking you out or waiting too long to make a move. They want to make up for lost time. In the bedroom (͠≖ ͜ʖ͠≖). They have a lot of confidence that they can make you feel really good. They wanna make you orgasm multiple times. If they have a dick, they have a big dick or like the perfect dick for you. If not I am hearing they may have large labia or a big strap on. This person wants to try every position with you but I am getting that they prefer cowgirl and doggy cause they wanna see your body. Your whole body is a huge turn on for them. Your person wants to whisper things like "Nobody else can make you feel this good" and "You're all mine". Very possessive energy but I'm not getting in a toxic way. They may be a little jealous of someone around you Pile 2. Your person wants to try all the toys with you. They imagine coming home with a bag of toys and trying all of them to see which ones make you feel the best. I also heard they are into punishments, they really like handcuffs specifically. But I think they also really like to give you praise when you do good, I am hearing "You are doing so well baby". I feel like you may think this person sleeps around and has a lot of experience but they either have a lot less than you have imagined or are a virgin. I feel like we are getting pretty dominant energy but I think this person is more of a switch and would love for you to take control of them. I heard mark them all over their body to show people they belong to you. They would love that so much. Your person has very kinky energy but they may also like sex passionate, slow and sensual. A lot of eye contact and hand holding. Your person may not like to have a one night stand or a friends with benefits relationship. I am getting that they would only make these moves if you were together. This pile seems to be the most fun and less serious when it comes to sex.

Advice Cards: You need to make the first move It is important to ask for help This challenge is intended to promote your growth Deep, deep down, something needs attention Seek to understand from a place of connection rather than separation Have a closer look at your family situation

Channeled Songs:

Pile 3 Cards: Two of Wands, Two of Swords rx, Justice rx, Seven of Swords rx, Knight of Pentacles rx, The Hermit, Ten of Pentacles, Ace of Pentacles, The Emperor Back of the deck: Three of Wands

Your person has a lot of emotions for you Pile 3. I am getting this could be someone you had a falling out with or had a big fight with. Although I am getting that this fight will end almost as quickly as it started. But your person wants to keep up the energy. This fight has got your person all hot and bothered and now they wanna let it out. They are very into makeup sex, they may feel like makeup sex is slightly better than regular sex. I am hearing "I won't leave a single part of your body untouched" and "You won't be able to move when I am done with you". All piles have been pretty dominate but I think your person has been the most dominate out of all the piles. Your person wants to go all night Pile 3. They want the neighbours to know who you belong to. They like to have very rough sex, multiple rounds. They wanna grab you everywhere. Your person like foreplay a lot less than the act itself. Your person is really into receiving head, pulling your hair while they contain moans but fail. I am getting your person is very vocal in bed. Your person may like both of you getting off by yourself while they tell you want to do. This could be a long distance relationship. For some of you they may like to watch as you get fucked by someone else, telling both of you want to do. Your person may like to choke you (safely) while they ruin you. They want to claim you, they may have a breeding kink. They imagine coming inside of you and making you hold it inside while you go out. "If you can hold it all, you will reward you when we get home". If you are a woman, they want to see you pregnant. That really turns them on. I feel like they would be really rough and aggressive in bed but if you use a safe word or show any discomfort, they will turn dom mode off and immediately take care of you. Consent and safe sex are really important to them. I am hearing that sex with them is something to gossip about. That would really fuel their ego. I feel like people may not expect that from them. They make look skinny or weak but is actually super muscular. They could also be shorter in height. I feel like your person's dirty secret is that they want you to overpower them and degrade them. Advice Cards:

Keep your faith. Stay intentioned. Your perseverance will pay off You are intuitively gifted. Trust your guidance You have more power than you think Align body, mind, and spirit. Know that you are whole You are divinely protected. Remind yourself how safe you are Make your presence felt

Channeled Songs:

Pile 4 Cards: Queen of Pentacles rx, Seven of Cups, Four of Swords, Four of Wands rx, The Hierophant, Four of Cups, Three of Wands Back of the deck: King of Cups

I think you were your person's sexual awakening Pile 4. They also could have been raised in a very religious household that looked down on sex and discouraged them to learn about anything sexual. Before they met you, they may have thought they were asexual or that they won't be able to find anyone but as soon as they found you something awaken in them. They were flooded with millions of emotions. You are the first person that ever made them feel these kinds of feelings. Now they want to catch up on what they missed with you. They want to try everything with you and see what makes both of you feel the best. Your person may want you to guide them through sex and teach them how to please you. Sex to your person seems very sacred and special, only with someone they completely trust and feel a connection with. I feel like your person would be into tantric sex, connecting with you on a spiritual level. I am hearing for some of you this person is your soulmate or twin flame. Your person imagines you screaming their name as they please you. It turns them on so much when you praise them and tell them that they are doing good. I really feel like your person wants to be dominate and please you but always end up crumbling under your touch. I am getting that you could easily make your person cum in their pants with just a few touches. They imagine you teasing them for how flustered they get and punishing them. They want to go all night, no breaks, they can't get enough. They have missed out on this for so long they want to make up for it. Your person may be really shy normally but is a total freak in bed. They are begging and pleading for you to touch them but you refuse them to mess with them. But when you finally give in, it's so passionate and hot oof. Your person wants to pour their heart out for you. It's always the quiet ones I heard lol. I also just heard step on me. I am seeing they want you to wear all leather and spank them. My goodness lol. They also imagine pleasing you while you sleep and waking you up with sex (consensually ofc). Your person craves your attention and touch.

Advice Cards:

Something you've planted is coming to harvest. Results are forthcoming! Be aware of your inner messages It is time to unclutter your body, mind, and spirit The issue at hand is about reflection. What is the mirror showing you? Relax and feel good. You deserve more joy! It is time to take appropriate action

Channeled Songs:

Thanks for tuning in₊‧.°.⋆🫧•˚₊‧⋆.

[everylastbird]

I've been thinking of a soulmates style au wherein hualian discover they are soulmates after XL saves HC as a child.

In this AU meeting your soulmate is incredibly rare and very auspicious, so even though HC is a commoner he is recognized as XL's future spouse and taken into the care of the royal family, but sequestered away from XL to maintain decorum. They see each other now and again, and interact during events and gatherings, but otherwise are kept separated. HC is delighted and pines and generally dreams of the day he gets to officially marry XL and be his wife.

(I like to personally use the term 'wife' in danmei specifically to mean 'the spouse that marries into the home of the other', so as he is marrying into XL's home, he would be the bride in this scenario.)

XL ascends, as in canon. Unlike in canon, when a soulmate ascends, so too does your soulmate, and HC ascends with XL.

XL also descends and falls from godhood, as in canon. Ever so magnanimous, JW ~kindly~ allows HC to stay in heaven upon XL's request, as HC didn't break any rules. HC is, however, bound to the heavens, unable to descend to seek out XL.

Centuries pass, and HC becomes known as a God of constancy, faithfulness, and marriage. He is regarded with both awe and pity. Poor HC, who remains loyal to a faithless god of misfortune. Isn't it incredible, how much he is willing and able to endure to uphold the sanctity of his marriage vows? He has a large faction of worshippers, mostly brides and wives in arranged, unhappy marriages, who pray to him for strength.

Few, if any, remember that Xianle fell before HC had the chance to marry XL. That all this time he has remained steadfast and true to his fiancé, rather than his husband. The gods that do look upon him with scorn and judgment. No one expects him to remain loyal to the likes of XL, so who does he think he is putting on this show for?

It doesn't matter what those gods, or even what his worshippers think of him, however. HC is loyal to XL out of love, and devotion. He is not suffering out of obligation. His only pain is that felt by his fiancé, and the pain of separation forced upon him.

And despite what the gods and his worshippers assume, he is not a long-suffering bride who sits and pines for his beloved. While he yearns for the day he can reunite with XL, HC spends his time playing the long-con. After all, is the keeping of house and home not one of the primary roles of any good wife? And the heavens are so steeped in filth. Certainly not worthy of his husband to be.

As for XL, he strives and toils to regain his godhood under the weight of his lost worshippers and the scorn of the gods who once praised him.

More than that, he worries, often, about HC, and his misplaced loyalty. Every now and then XL hears another tale of HC's endless, unshakeable loyalty, but with those tales also come stories of that devotion being nothing more than a shackle. Nothing is ever said of HC's love for his husband, or HC's happiness, only his impressive endurance in the face of obligation to a worthless husband. XL fears that HC is little more than a long suffering would-be bride, held back by XL's mistakes and the fate that bound them together without either of their say.

So XL does his best to regain his godhood, so that he may re-enter heaven and finally free HC from himself for good.

When, after 800 years, XL finally ascends once again, nothing is as he had expected it to be. There is a crowd, but no one is casting judgment or disparaging him. Instead, it seems as though he has ascended amidst the start of a lavish celebration.

As XL stands amidst a sea of joyful revelry, a procession slowly makes its way towards him, and at its end, a bridal sedan.

When the sedan stops before him and a hand moves aside its curtain, XL reaches out to grasp it without thinking. Gently, he leads the bride off of the sedan and onto solid ground.

XL looks up at a veil of opaque crimson silk. He cannot see the face behind it, does not even know, after all this time, what HC would even look like... But in this moment he knows, unquestionably, that this is not just any bride, but his bride.

Part of XL recalls that one of his main reasons to rise to godhood again was to let HC go, to finally allow him freedom from the weight of being tethered to someone like XL. And yet, any thoughts of breaking his vows to HC dry up in his mouth. He has thought of so many ways to say it, so many ways to cut HC loose of him without bringing HC any more pain, but he cannot bring himself to say any of them.

The hand in his grasp turns, and laces their fingers together. His bride's hand is strong, XL observes as though from a distance, unflinching and sure.

"Hello, gege," HC says. His voice is deeper than XL remembers, richer and more vibrant than anything he has experienced for decades, if not centuries. 

"Ah, San Lang, I'm sorry, " he manages to force out through his shock. His laugh is pitchy and uneven even to his own ears. "I'm afraid I'm not quite prepared...!"

"It's okay, gege." A thumb carasses his knuckles tenderly, and XL's throat tightens. "I already have everything ready for us."

[dragonnan]

May Prompts 2024

May 10: "Choice"

What had that busybody old neighbor of hers called this? May December romance; that was it – with Martha decidedly in the winter category, grey tips and all. Oh, it certainly wasn’t anything actually romantic. At her age! And not with one, who’d scarcely looked out of short pants, the first time Martha had spotted him outside the club with that awful Jefferies person. She’d seen far too many, like him, given her husband’s line of business. She had nearly sighed and looked past this one, as well, except...

It was those eyes that had done it. Not stirring her to passion, goodness no. But that way he'd looked through her skin, all young and ancient, and saw the self she'd hidden under bright scarves and foundation; thick enough to hide the darkest bruise.

William, he'd called himself. Too skinny. That had been her first thought followed by “too young”... to be on his own and sleeping rough and buying drugs from those terrible dealers, who hadn't even the decency to offer clean needles, much less clean product. She'd, quite quickly, made the choice that he couldn't stay there and had arranged to provide a room above the club. It wasn't very quiet, sadly, but it was clean, off the street, and relatively safe. Little chance of harassment, from dangerous types, with David and Brass standing watch outside the doors below.

And maybe... maybe it was that posh voice... reminding her so much of the home that she hadn't seen in sixteen years.

The first time Martha had seen William cast aside that child-like aura had been after another one of Frank’s rages. He’d held a tissue against her split cheek and told her not to worry – that he’d take care of things. Far from soothing her his statement had frightened her. She knew Frank was involved in a good deal of terrible business. She also knew that he’d been married once before and that his previous spouse had died. Martha was a smart woman and hadn’t needed to be led to water to know there were bodies beneath the surface.

So, when Sherlock had gone out that evening – and remained out all night – Martha had been terrified.

However, when he’d returned, the following morning, several Miami police had been with him. It would be weeks before she’d gotten the entire story from him – enough time for the investigation to complete and to assure that she truly hadn’t known anything.

By the end of the trial, Frank had been extradited to Texas, where he would face the death penalty. Martha had divorced him and she had sold off the business and all of Frank’s assets.

It was William's testimony which had ensured the death penalty at the trial held months later – a period of time in which Martha had gone though tremendous life changes. In addition to selling the club, she she had also sold their massive home, and had purchased a smaller beach house in Ponte Vedra. William had gone with her to assist her in her move. She had invited him to stay on for a while, as her first boarder. Well, she hadn't felt right about leaving him on his own. He'd seemed the type to get into trouble without someone to look out for him.

The day they’d moved in, William had given her a small wrapped package. “A housewarming gift”, he’d said. Inside had been a necklace. It was gold, with a delicate, fleur de le pendant, and tiny amethyst stones.

“Oh, William, it’s lovely!”

“I nicked it from Frank’s safe the night they arrested him.” he’d said – then chuckled when she’d scoffed and slapped his arm.

When had things changed between them? Martha supposed the better question would be if they had ever changed – truly – or had always been that way from the start. First impressions aside there had been no great sea change; no sudden transition from barely acquaintances to motherly guardian. Her life with Frank had never allowed for even the concept of children. The conversation, in their early days of marriage, had been clipped short and final. But now, with William... It should have felt odd – thinking of him like a child when he was, at least technically, a grown man. But there was no shaking the affection she felt for the boy. They would sit for hours, at the beach, as the waves rolled up the sand and the sky went deep blue to hazy pink and orange. His long, skinny, fingers would gather beneath his chin and he would seem to be seeing nothing at all while she would page though a book or simply watch the people go by.

In the evenings she often enjoyed cooking – though she wasn’t his maid and insisted on his participation if he wanted to eat. And, oh, what a precious, awkward creature, he’d been. Once, she'd been preparing dinner, spaghetti, when he'd leaned over her shoulder with that endless, cat-like, curiosity of his. She'd batted him away with her fingers and he'd dodged backward – only to trip over one of the kitchen chairs and land on the linoleum in a tangle. He’d spent the rest of the evening locked away in the spare bedroom; obviously embarrassed. It hadn’t been until the following morning when, sheepishly, he’d emerged in time to help with breakfast.

Ah, but it couldn't have gone on forever and, far too soon, it was time for him to move on.

One evening, some months on, she'd been washing their few dishes from dinner. While rinsing soap suds from the plates, William had glided, silently, into the room. Without a word, he’d taken up station at her side to dry. It had only required minutes to wash up; after which they had simply remained there, watching the neighbor’s children playing outside her kitchen window. Finally he'd said, in a voice so small and sad, “I don’t want to go home.”

Martha had hugged him and he had clung to her, tightly, without saying anything more.

A week later he had been gone. She'd insisted he keep her contact information. He'd assured her it wouldn't be “deleted” though she'd stopped trying to understand his odd word choices long ago.

She'd watched him board his plane; bag filled with his favorite pastries, she'd insisted on preparing for him, while feeling so much like a mum sending her only child off to college.

She would not see him again for nearly a decade.

One morning, out of the blue, she'd received a call from a man introducing himself as “Sherlock Holmes' brother”. The reason behind her silence had been quickly deduced by him (as if she'd need anything more than that little eccentricity to confirm this man as family). In a stiff voice, he'd followed with, “you know him as William.”

He was needing a place to stay. This “Mycroft” would, of course, cover the majority of the cost.

Martha had told him he could very well keep his money. She would not allow another man to have a single quid to hold over her head.

And, of course, he could rent from her.

Of course he could.

She couldn't wait to see him.

When the movers had brought Will- Sherlock’s things to the flat, she had been delighted to discover he wouldn’t be moving in alone.

She had a good feeling about it. A very good feeling indeed.

She knew – had known from the first, really – that the best choice she had ever made was to take in that young, frightened boy, all those years ago.

With fresh excitement, that had not caught her so keenly in a decade, Martha grabbed her hoover and headed up the seventeen steps to the flat above. It was time to get ready, after all.

William was coming home.

Comment on AO3

[spoiled-fawn]

CoD Western AU and Mail Order Spouse Trope

Howdy!

Welcome to my version of a Wild West AU & Mail-Order Spouse Trope. Introduction of the reader scenario will be down below and a little digital art will be added in to show our lovely options of spouses. This is Gender Neutral.

This was my first Au and trope project I’ve worked on. While I learn and decide how I want to upload this, I hope everyone enjoys or just gets a kick out of this!

Introduction & Backstory

Your life wasn’t awful, per se, but sometimes you wonder if you say that to yourself to cope with what you’ve been through. Simply put, you were your family's breadwinner, caretaker, and damage controller. You were poor-ish, where you had to use scraps of fabrics to make your clothes, but yet your father could always afford a bottle to be in his hand, and your mother out on the porch smoking whatever she needed that day to cope and try to be a mom and wife.

Coat of many colors indeed.

You worked, and you have worked from a young age to continuously support your family as you didn't have a choice if you wanted to keep the roof over your head. Although, you were thankful that your mother was adamant you went to the schoolhouse and got at least a good amount of education.

After attending school for a few years until puberty, you were in the working class; your job as a domestic servant included the taste of farmhand, tailoring, and working to cann fruits that were grown on the farm. After a long shift on the warm and humid spring day, you walked back home to hear your father yelling as usual but stopped when you heard your name being spoken.

“As soon as we sell that damn nuisance, we’ll be rolling in dough. I can’t believe that damn bastard politician wants our kin. Said once he’s back from his campaign up north he’ll come meet ‘em.” He laughs before taking another swig of his drink, your mother laughing along with him as she has a lit pipe in the house for the first time in a long time.

Now, you to truly understand the depravity of this; the seriousness of her celebrating with a lit drug inside the house.

Your stomach drops, nausea rolling over you at the thought of them selling you off to the old and decrepit wealthy politician for marriage to get money. Money that they’ll blow through, having never learned to control their vices turned addictions.

A cold sweat breaks out on you as you swallow down the urge to expel the minimal amount of food in your worn-out body, and promptly turn around and walk back into town.

Walking the dark streets, you navigate quietly and hide behind the shadows of the night with only a few dimly lit light posts flickering their oil flame light. While walking the edge of the closed shops, you see a dirty newspaper thrown on the ground and almost step over it until a small headline catches your eye.

“FRONTIER MEN, LOOKING FOR CAPABLE SPOUSE”

Your eyes scan quickly over the matrimony company advertising for men located in the frontier lands, each searching for promising spouses and wanting to marry soon. You read over the information, seeing that the listed men below are located in newly booming towns out west, a few even located in mining towns or having their own company.

Your body zings with a chill of adrenaline at the thought of diving head first into chance and change, but you knew something much better could be awaiting you…

Should you do it?

looking around, the humid and small town looks back at you as you enter a hardened state of mind; What would become if you stayed here? The disgusting politician's new toy just to break? Your parents are already planning on how to drain their funds dry within a month of letting their addictions take over? You don't have friends, your boss is the closest thing to one just because you spend hours each and every day working.

Yeah.

You're gonna fucking do it.

Taking a seat, your eyes quickly scan down the page of advertisements, looking over the small blurbs of descriptions offered. The correspondence cost would be 10 cents, meaning you have one chance to get his attention and get the new life you need.

Simon Riley Biography, Meeting Simon,

John Price Biography, Meeting John

Kyle Garrick Biography, Meeting Kyle

John MacTavish Biography, Meeting Johnny

Phillip Graves Biography, Meeting Phillip

Alejandro Vargas Biography, Meeting Alejandro

[discount-shades]

Contract Spouse Epilogue

Epilogue: The Future

A/N: My crazy month of June is finally settling down and I hope to start my Western!Daggers fic in the next week.

Pairing: Jake Seresin/Reader (nicknamed Pip)

Warning:  none 

Length: 1600ish

Summary: They have to tell Sami. 

Previous     Masterlist     Main Masterlist

Jake ripped up the divorce papers that day on the beach. Frantically tearing them into smaller and smaller pieces. You had scolded him when he threw the papers in the air, laughing and kissing as you gathered the garbage up, splashing in the waves to keep the litter from going out to sea. Eventually Jake had to go in to work so you had driven home with a lightness you hadn't felt before. 

You kept the knowledge of your new relationship to yourselves, beyond Jake’s ‘you were right’ text to Javy. Your relationship was a weird combination of the newness of a honeymoon period and the comfort that comes from knowing, and being known, by a partner. 

If you were in the kitchen Jake would sneak up behind you and wrap his arms around your waist, peppering kisses down your neck and shoulder. You snuggled on the couch while watching TV in the evenings with Jake’s thumb slipping under your shirt and gently running over the skin of your back trailing goosebumps in its wake. All of your clothes were moved into the master bedroom closet and every night you slept wrapped in his arms.  

The only issue was Sami. You didn't know how to tell your best friend that you were in love with her brother and that you were not coming back to Austin. It was too big of news to share over a text or a phone call. It was the kind of news you share in person. She and Matt were coming out to visit in a month and every day you agonized over telling her. 

You pace the living room. “Worst case scenario she is pissed and never talks to either of us again.” Jake sighs and looks up from the book he is studying for some Navy qualification. 

Why does it have to be the worst case scenario?” he asks. “Best case scenario is that she is happy for us and gives her blessing.”

“If I expect the worst case scenario then I won't be disappointed when things don’t go my way.” You grimace and stare at your hands. “I learned pretty early that expecting good things only leads to disappointment.”

Jake marks his place in his book and tosses it on the coffee table. “Come here,” he urges, opening his arms to you and you walk over to the couch before flopping on top of him. You relax into his arms as he runs his hands up and down your back. “It’s going to be ok,” he says, “it was her idea we married in the first place so she has no one to blame but herself.” 

You snort in laughter before answering seriously. “I just don’t want her to feel like I’m choosing you and that she is going to lose me as a friend.” 

“If anything she is going to be pissed you kept the fact you loved me for years a secret.” 

“Jaaaakke!” You groan and bury your face into his chest. “You are not helping and I regret telling you that!”

“No take backs.” You can hear the smile in his voice and in truth you are happy you told him. His look of awe and excitement when you told him was worth it. Like he was having trouble believing that someone could love him so much. “Ok, on the first night they get here I will take Matt out for beers and you can tell Sami. Deal?”

“Deal.” you say grudgingly. 

— — — 

“Ok, spit it out.” Sami snaps at you from where she is sitting on the couch. “You have been so weird since we got here. I know you have something to tell me.”

You sigh and set the glass of wine you were slowly sipping down. True to his word Jake had taken Matt out for beers on their first evening in town and you and Sami were sharing a bottle of wine and catching up. So far Sami had done all the talking and most of the drinking. 

“I’m not moving back to Austin.” You can see the disappointment on her face. You press your hands between your knees, squeezing them together  

“Does your job want you to stay out here?” Sami is staring at you intently and you squirm under her gaze. “Are you getting a place?”

“No.” You take a deep breath, struggling to overcome a decade of keeping your feelings for Jake a secret. “I’m going to stay here with Jake.”

At that her face falls. “Sweetie, I know you love Jake, but if he hasn’t figured out that you are perfect for him after these months of living together he never will.” She leans forward at your shocked expression, taking your hands in hers. “I love him, but my brother is an idiot and you deserve to be happy and not pining after him. You need to move on, and I don’t think living here with him is going to help.”

You let out a startled laugh, unsure of what to do or say. Of all the things you expected, this was not one of them. “You knew?”

“Yeah, I could tell, you always light up when you talk to him and you get what I like to call your ‘Jake smile’” She shifts so she is sitting beside you, arm around your shoulders and you rest your heads together. “And for what it’s worth I think you guys would be great together, he doesn’t know what he’s missing.” 

“Jake loves me,” you tell her and she sighs. 

“You deserve someone in love with you,” she says. 

“I know,” you pause before mustering your courage, “that’s Jake.” Sami pulls back and stares at you. “We talked. And he realized he is in love with me and we are going to be a real couple.” 

“Jake admitted his feelings?!” Sami says incredulously. “He’s denied he’s had any since our dad got sick!” 

You give her a little lopsided grin. ”He’s always had feelings, he just never wanted to burden you with them.”

“You two are going to be a couple? For real?!” At your nod Sami squeals and pulls you into a hug that is closer to a headlock. 

“You’re not mad?” Your voice is muffled by her arms as she holds you close. 

“No! Why would I be mad? You will finally be my sister for real!” 

“I don’t know, I was just worried how you would respond.” You pull back and look her in the eye. “You will still be my best friend.” 

“Damn straight, I’m still your best friend.” The confidence in her answer makes you giggle. “And we have to plan some kind of vow renewal. You both deserve a real wedding, with a dress and a ring and everything.” 

You glance down at the ring on your finger. You had always loved it for its simplicity. Nothing flashy, just a constant reminder that someone cared about you, that you weren’t alone. Even before you and Jake had confessed your feelings that day on the beach the ring had been a reminder that you had people in your life who loved you and wanted you to be ok. “Maybe not the ring,” you tell her, “I’ve kinda grown attached to this one.”

“Jake picked that ring out.” You glance up at Sami’s words.

“I always thought you picked it, it’s one I would have picked for myself.”

“I was trying to get him to get you something flashy, mostly so I could try on all the big diamond rings at the jewelers. The teller was kinda irritated.” She grins at the memory. “Jake was ignoring me and he picked that one out because he said it was something that you would wear.” 

You gaze down at the ring, loving it even more knowing that Jake picked it for you. “I’m definitely keeping the ring.” Your thoughts are interrupted by another squeal from Sami as she pulls you into another hug. 

“I’m just so happy for you both!” You laugh and hug her back. The anxiety you had felt over telling her just fades away and you let out a sigh of relief. Sami was the closest thing you had to family and having her blessing meant everything. “You need to tell me everything!”

“Everything?” You ask with raised eyebrows. You laugh at the look she sends you. 

“Within reason of what a sister wants to know.” 

— — —

When Jake and Matt get home hours later you and Sami are giggling on the couch. He sends you a questioning look and you nod and gin as he leans over to plant a kiss on your lips. 

“I fucking knew it!” Matt exclaims triumphantly as he sits down next to Sami, “I told you it would happen!”

She pats his hand in a mollifying way. “Yes dear, you are very insightful.”

Jake sits next to you and you immediately melt into his side. His body heat is bleeding into yours as your muscles relax. 

“Treat her right, Jake!” Sami declares with a grin. “Because if you don’t, Pip gets me in the divorce.”

“That threat doesn't work the way you think it does.” He laughs and catches the pillow Sami throws at his head. “How come she doesn’t get the ‘treat me right’ talk?”

Sam just rolls her eyes at him and sighs. “It’s Pip, she treats you better than you deserve.” You roll your eyes at her and shake your head. Out of the corner of your eye you can see Jake nodding and you look up at him. His green eyes are soft as he gazes back at you with a half grin making his dimple pop. 

“I’m lucky I’ve got you to keep me out of trouble.” You grin up at him as he leans down and gives you a soft kiss, promising the future. 

[b0rtney]

you want homosexuals in every conceivable scenario?

Boy oh boy do i have the substack for u: mine!

NO PLEASE LEMME TELL U THE STORIES BEFORE U LEAVE--

Current is Cinnamon Muffins. TLDR: Six queer boys in a homophobic tiny town in Iowa are trying to survive winter break dodging awful parents, social stigma, and mental health crises.

Next up is How to Get Away with Marriage. TLDR: Guy with awful, religious parents marries guy who is living paycheck to paycheck so they can both get all their younger sisters out of their shitty situations (but they fall in love ofc).

Longer desc of these plus the stories coming in the next months are below the cut! (Genres include fantasy, sci-fi, dystopian, mystery/thriller, coming-of-age)

Cinnamon Muffins centers on Taylor Macready, a homeless senior in high school holed up in a sleeping bag under a bridge after his parents kicked him out. He's fully ready to just accept death when it starts snowing on him while he's stargazing, but social outcast Wes Post is taking his nightly walk in a new direction and stumbles (literally) on his longtime crush, Taylor. Dragging Taylor home, Wes's parents prove themselves the only reasonable parents in this book by setting Taylor up on their pullout couch and nursing him back to health. Then Wes, whose closest school relationships include the kids who bully him for his anxiety-related speech impediment, has to get in touch with Taylor's friends to let them know the situation. Meanwhile, the mean girls of Swisher High School are starting a campaign to get homosexuality banned at school. Administratively, it gets nowhere, but it inspires several small-minded shitwads to take matters into their own hands. While Taylor is used to getting into fights, Wes isn't, but he'll have to sink or swim, because the teachers are not paid enough to care what happens in the hallways during lunchtime.

How to Get Away with Marriage opens with Luke Providence, son of a devoutly Baptist family in Nebraska, proposing to Patrick Demden, son of a recently-deceased alcoholic mechanic. The wealthy Providence parents have a longstanding agreement that once their children get married, they will receive a trust of $100,000 to use on the down-payment of a house and to start a life with their spouse. Patrick's younger sister tutors Luke's younger sister, but Patrick's sister is 16. This age gap doesn't matter much to the Providence parents, but it matters a lot to Luke, so he strikes a deal with Patrick: tell the parents he'll marry the sister, legally marry the brother, everyone gets to move to Colorado and escape abusive religious parents and crushing poverty. He needn't have done something so elaborate, Patrick would have married him for any reason at all. But the secret doesn't stay secret forever, and the Providence parents eventually come knocking, trying to recollect their children and their money.

Future stories I'll keep shorter, but feel free to ask about them either in the replies or my askbox and I'll elaborate!

Assassin x Demon King will be getting books 2 and 3! ADK is about an assassin and the king he was supposed to kill, both of whom have quit their jobs and started trying to save as many people as the assassin killed before he dies of a slow-acting poison in twelve months. Books 2 and 3 will have things getting awfully tragic and somewhat more horny than before! (No smut will make it into the print versions of these, that will remain on my substack alone)

How to Find Your Friends After the End of the World is a fantasy inspired by the isekai anime genre. Five friends in their 20s are on earth as it is wracked by a violent battle between the Heroine of the Gods and her Nemesis, and then, suddenly, they aren't. Earth has been destroyed and they are now on a new planet, in new (non-human) bodies, strewn across continents! On their new wrists, they have tattoos with each others' names, plus one (or two) new ones: their soulmates. Court politics and wastelands of monsters await them as they try desperately to reach each other, and their soulmates try desperately to reach them.

HtFYF will also have a prequel, focusing on the events that led to earth's destruction, and the battle between the Heroine of the Gods, a young woman, and her Nemesis, who seems to know more about the gods than she says. Why do the gods keep choosing such young heroes? What has the Nemesis done to put the world in such peril? Will the Heroine get to graduate on time despite the sleep she's been missing!?

The following do not yet have titles, but are fully fleshed out works ready to be thrown onto Substack:

A trilogy of eleven teens assisting in the fight against an agency that traffics, tortures, and then sells children with preternatural powers and abilities, and an exploration of the trauma those kids emerge with.

A murder mystery where a woman's sister dies, the police rule it suicide, and the woman enlists the help of a rumored contract killer to help her solve the murder-- but why does this rumored murderer-for-hire seem to know so much about her sister's death? And who was truly responsible?

A campy novel about a woman who graduates college, goes back to her hometown, and finds her highschool crush is still there, still single, and has since come out as gay. Of course, the only solution is to co-adopt an at-risk child from a neighbor.

This post will remain pinned on my profile, but for the next few days I'm having a sale on my substack tiers-- 20% off! That makes the cost to you just $8 per month to get a chapter every other day. 15 chapters for $8; that's a steal!

[pursuitseternal]

Give young Astarion “Everything” in this nsfw, loss of innocence update to “Our Blood is Thicker”💞🗡️

Astarion xF!OC (Cordehlia) |E| 3.8K to lose their virginity

Summary: flashback dream to their last night together, their first time together, and the gift they give one another of everything…

CW: losing virginity, outdoor sex, flashback angst, present day wet dreams, and elven recall returning.

Previous Ch | Ao3 link | Masterlist

Chapter 12: Everything

💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞

“Astarion!” Cordehlia called, leaping off her couch in her antechamber and flying into his outstretched arms. He strode in, so comfortable and welcome in his intended’s home. Cutting a fine figure in his doublet of blue and burgundy. The colors Cordehlia always said brought out his violet eyes. He stopped quick as she saw him, waiting and braced to hold her the moment the door to her chamber opened.

He only gave that low, lingering chuckle as he spun them both around. “My darling,” he caressed her ear, planting a kiss on her smile, always so big to see him.

Even five years later since their betrothal. She was just as happy, nay, happier now, than the day he said she would be his.

He breathed, a self-satisfied smirk on his full and handsome face. Releasing her from his arms, he clutched her hands, both in his. Those fingers so smooth and tender and refined. Like the silks and satins she wore. “I just received word…”

“I just got…” she said at the same time.

“You go, my lady,” he faked a gentlemanly bow, pressing her fingers to his lips. “I shall wait with my news.”

“My dress, it has arrived, all the way from Baldur’s Gate. I think even your parents will approve of it. I can’t wait for you to see it, the stitching, the colors, the jewels, it’ll be perfect for our wedding…”

His eyes narrowed, brows softened. Guilt and regret twisting his face in ways he could not hide. Not that he had ever really been good at masking his strongest feelings.

“What’s wrong, Astarion?” Cordehlia held her breath until it burned.

“I… just received word…” his long, pale fingers held a neatly rolled scroll, red wax seal already slit and message already read. “They want me to start my studies to be a magistrate…”

“No…” she shook her red braids so hard, one fell. “I thought they didn’t accept you.” Her smooth voice choked.

“Mother and Father called in a few favors…” he kept his eyes on her face. “This will be good for me, for us. The chance to forge my own way, to make a name for myself out of their shadow. To gain connections and power and perspective so I’ll be twice the High Lord they are once they…”

“Good, cause you sound just like them,” she spat, folding her arms. “And you come bursting in here like that’s astounding news. Like I’ll be happy.”

His hands grabbed for her again, and despite the frown on her beautiful face, she let him. “Don’t you see, I’m doing this for you too. First, my beautiful betrothed, then my wife, the spouse of the most powerful Magistrate in the greatest city in Faerûn, and finally, High Lord and Lady of our people,” he gave one of his sultry, velvety smirks. “There won’t be a soul who wouldn’t kneel at your feet then, my love.”

She stayed rigid before him, those sweetened words teasing at more brilliant hopes and dreams than she dared to envision. “Astarion,” she warned.

“Just think, my darling, you’re in awe of one beautiful gown from the City,” he purred, bringing her closer into his arms again. “Now imagine a whole trousseau, a whole wardrobe brimming with the same or finer clothes for you, one for every day of the year…”

She stepped closer without truly realizing it. Or resisting it. Stopping only once they were belly to belly, hip to hip again. “Perhaps,” she breathed, her tone softening again.

“You would be the talk of the Patiars, the envy of all, my beautiful bride on the arm of the most powerful Magistrate, a title I finally deserve, deciding life and death, freedom and punishment…” his hands stole over her smooth, silken skirts, pressing her pelvis against his, pressure on the sweet curve of her ass in his hands until she could feel his growing arousal.

His desire for her, and for the future he had long dreamed of. It made him… hungry.

“I suppose my gown will hang waiting happily to be joined by other such finery. It’ll only take you a small matter of time to complete your studies and begin, I do not doubt,” she smiled again. Smaller and fainter, but brimming with pride in him.

“No doubt,” Astarion flashed his toothy smile back at her. “But…” he paused, growing still again. “…I leave in the morning.”

Her fingers clawed into the thick fabric at his elbows. “What?” she snipped.

“Term has already started, I can’t delay any longer,” he replied so matter of factly, her stomach sank to her toes.

“So, you’ve come to say… goodbye,” she breathed, face falling into despair before she buried her face into his chest.

His hand swept into the mess of braids on her head, petting through them softly. “We have tonight,” was all he could say, trying hard not to make his voice waver as it was wanting to as well.

She sniffled, hiding her slightly swollen eyes from his sight. Not that he had never seen her cry before, but… tonight felt different. Solemn. Significant.

“Well,” she swallowed, suddenly feeling very warm, very close to his body. “I don’t want to waste a minute of it then getting your clothes all wet.”

That rakish grin curled his lips. “Not with tears, anyway…”

Cordehlia choked on a laugh. “Maybe… we do something… special,” she barely spoke above a whisper. “Maybe… just maybe…”

“What do you have in mind?” he purred, hands sweeping over her back, down her ass to hold her by her hips against him again.

“You sneak into the larder, grab us a feast,” she flicked half a smile in his face. “I’ll take care of the rest. Meet me back here in five minutes.”

“So short a time,” he face screwed in humor.

“I said we won’t waste a minute of it.”

And she disappeared through the door to her inner chambers.

Astarion hurried on light and silent feet. He knew every inch of her house, the fastest ways in and out, the way to the pantry least likely to be seen. And just where the General kept all the good stuff. He grabbed a cloth, stuffing it with dried sausages and cheese, fruits and finally a bottle of Ithbank to share. Enough to sustain them… if they were about to do what he thought.

What he hoped. And indeed, it would certainly be… something.

His heart pounded, hands, usually so skilled, fumbled to tie the cloth into a sack without dropping a thing. Peeking around the corner, he slunk quicker and quieter than he ever had.

Despite the way his cock had grown stiff down one of his trouser legs at the mere thought of what this… something… might be.

He beat her back to her chambers. Setting down his parcel, he took a moment to… adjust himself. Swallowing the groan that came out as he pulled his length against his belly instead, he had to wipe his hand from how much he was already leaking. “Gods,” he cursed to himself.

“Something the matter?” she softly called from behind. He turned slowly, breath catching and eyes wide as he saw her. And he giggled. Her arms were full, blankets and flint box and a bundle of kindling weighing her down. But underneath, she wore that dress…

“You look so… beautiful,” he breathed, and he rushed to her to relieve her of those goods.

So soft as he brushed against her sleeves, the palest green of spring, studded with little pearls and gems bright and small like the stars. Thread, silver like her eyes, wove in patterns all about her body, like little clusters of constellations in the sky.

Cordehlia blushed as he met her gaze, her look was eager, excited, and… nervous, he thought.

“By the looks of things, we are going camping, roughing it, sleeping in the dirt?” he taunted mischievously, arching one of his rakish brows.

“Well,” she purred, clutching the blankets against her breasts and grabbing the pack of food he prepared before heading to the door, “I wouldn’t dream of giving you this… gift under my Father’s roof…”

Astarion groaned, hiding its source by shifting the weight of the kindling and flint box in his arms. But really it was the way her words sent the sharpest, hottest pang right to his groin. And he prayed to every one of the gods he wasn’t leaking into the cream of his tunic before he got to remove it at this rate.

Swallowing he followed her silently, recovering what senses he could as he trailed behind her hem. Once they slipped from the kitchen door, he took a breath of cooling summer air. “So, my darling, where are you absconding with me?” he crooned over her shoulder as they made their way through the gardens towards the trees.

“Not totally sure… maybe just a little patch of nowhere, just for us…”

Not as if she didn’t know every mossy bed in the trees around their homes, as if they hadn’t already stolen kisses and pleasured each other under almost every tree’s boughs in their five years together. As if the grasses hadn’t all been flattened by one or both of their backs as the other sucked or licked their lover in the moonlight…

But such thoughts were not helping the increasingly damp stick inside his trouser’s waistband.

She cut sharply to the left, deeper into the forest, just as he thought she would. Her favorite little spot, a gentle stream nearby, ready access to waters for when they would have to clean up after themselves. This time, he let his heavy-breathed sigh sound for her to hear.

Cordehlia turned, a knowing and desirous smirk on her full and pink lips. The moss here was extra lush, and she quickly began spreading her blankets around in a neat little bed. “Why don’t you start us a fire to keep warm?” she grinned, starting to lay out the provisions he had snatch.

He had never stacked wood or struck a flint faster in his life. Once the fire had taken hold, he wiped his hands together and turned. She stood bathed in starlight and flickering flames, her back to him, hair parted over one shoulder, her eyes soft and beckoning.

A silent ask for him to help her disrobe.

“Oh, my love,” he breathed, closing in on her, hands clasped at her bare shoulders where her gown already began to slide down her ivory skin. He lingered his lips against her neck, pulling her back and rear to brace against his stomach. His hips gave an unbidden roll against her ass. “What will it be then…?” his voice dripping with his desire as his fingers quickly tugged lace after binding lace from the stitching down her back. “My tongue between your legs?” he purred, a heavy sigh making her shoulders rise and fall beneath another tender kiss from him. “Your pretty, pink lips sucking my cock?”

This time she moaned, helping ease her dress from her arms and over her hips. Step by step, she turned to face him, kicking her dress out of her way. “I thought I said something special, something I haven’t done with you before, but… I’d like to…”

He wrapped his arms around her bare back. “You don’t have to, you know,” he said, steadily gazing in her eyes. “I would hate to leave you tomorrow with… regrets.”

“I think I would regret it more if I didn’t give you my…” she paused and blushed and turned to hide her sheepish smile against her shoulder. “My everything. Especially if we will be parted for a time.”

Astarion let his held breath ease slowly, his belly clenching at her coyness, his cock throbbing at her words. “Well, then, my love,” he stroked the breadth of his palm down her supple curves and rounded hips, “your… maidenhead is a gift I have been waiting for, and one I will cherish forever.”

“Cut the silken words, Ancunìn, and disrobe,” she giggled. She turned and thrust her chin at him, that same taunting, defiant smirk on her face he recalled from their youth.

“With pleasure,” he leered back at her, those deep violet eyes locked into her stare as his fingers flew through his clasps and buttons. He watched her chest rise and fall, her own gaze sinking down his front the more of his chest came into view.

She breathed his name the second those long fingers started to free his cock, already the thick pink head prodding out of his waistband.

“Cordehlia,” he returned the amorous tone. One hand tugged off his trousers and kicked off his boots. The other wound into the back of her head, pulling her panting lips slowly to caress his own.

He nearly tripped on his own pants, hurrying to get freed. Especially once those smooth, gentle hands of hers wrapped around his cock and softly palmed his balls. All at once. Tugging up, she steadied him with a laugh that tickled down his throat. “Easy, Astarion,” she whispered into his mouth, “we have all night, remember?”

“One we will never forget…” he growled, his voice so thick, it even surprised himself. They melted as one into the blankets, the scent of her skin and woodsmoke filling his every breath. Her body seemed to cradle him, wrapping him in her arms, clenching his middle with her thighs. That ivory skin even smoother than the Baldurian silks she stripped off just for him.

He wanted to taste her every lick, inhale her every breath, wanted to watched her every reaction to his touch all at once. His mind raced, years of waiting to finally join like this, and he couldn’t help but wish he had read more… done more to ready himself.

But her hands were already pulling him over her hips, her mouth already panting greedily for air as she bucked against him. This embrace was nothing new, he knew the press of her body, the warmth of her mouth and the grip of her hand. He was ready for more. She was ready to give him more.

Everything.

He stole his hand between her thighs, catching her drenched folds, wetter than ever as he parted them. But this time, after a few languorous circles of his thumb over her clit, he delved two long fingers inside her.

Her pulse raged, her muscles clenched taught at the welcome intrusion. They had played little games in their passion, just the brush of his cock against her entrance, just a shallow dip into its heat and warmth once or twice each time before she would squeal nervously.

But not tonight. He groaned to feel her shifting inside, around his fingers, hotter as he sank them deeper, as he withdrew them to thrust them back in a little faster.

As he joined a third finger to stretch that virginal thightness just a bit more before he…

“Gods,” he groaned, resting his head for a moment on the pillow of one breast.

“How does it... feel?” she sighed, her own voice shaking almost inaudibly as he kept a slow and steady pump of his touch.

“Perfect,” he groaned. “Tight and perfect…”

“And all yours,” she breathed and laughed. Her fingers gripped into his ass, urging him closer, so close his cock pressed into those seeping folds. He coated his length in her slick, holding his breath as he guided his own drenched head against her entrance.

He paused, looking into her face, her eyes half-shut, her teeth biting her lower lip, sight glued to watching the small space where they would join. “Please, Astarion,” she moaned, a slight buck of her hips, “I’m ready.”

He gave a slight nod, a gentle kiss into her panting belly, and then rolled his hips. Slowly, her wet and heat swallowed him. The pressure of her core on his head making his breath hitch in his throat, gripping him so tightly, he stopped. Glancing up, he drank in the blush on her cheeks and neck, the way her face squinted in that twist he had seen every time she came undone.

Cordehlia groaned, breath rapid. “Mmm, just a moment…”

He pulled back an inch, slowly sliding in more… and more. His thighs shook, his hips and body craving to fuck deeper, to bury himself to his balls and thrust until he felt nothing but her warmth and wet and pressure was his whole world.

Her hands braced on his shoulders. “Slowly,” she panted, hips screwing beneath him, wriggling for release. “But don’t you stop,” she moaned.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he managed to reply, sliding back easily once more. Half-way in, and he pushed against that pressure that resisted on his head one last time.

Until it eased.

Until she sighed, arching her back, wrapping her legs. “There now,” she panted, trying to steady her voice as if she wasn’t being split apart by his cock. “All mine… all yours…”

Until morning… She pushed the thought from her wandering mind. Easy to do as he hung his head between her breasts and began to gently roll his hips once. And again.

His throat shook each time, little growls as he dragged inside her, back and forth. His breath was hot on her skin, shaking and unmeasured. As if he had been running uphill, but instead he gave little undulations of his hips that sent her careening toward pleasure so quickly through the stretching pain, that fire in her nerves as his cock split her thighs impossibly wide just to fit him inside.

He restrained himself, she could tell, fighting hard to control every little roll of his body between her thighs, every rock of his hips and slide of his belly across hers. Every thought in her mind focused on matching his movements, letting her muscles heat and open and relax to be finally so completely filled.

To ride one another so naturally, fit perfectly, pleasurably.

Arms wrapped around his neck, leveraging her strength as she arched when he hit some spot inside her channel. The cry from her lips made him pause, eyes wide at first in terror, easing to a smile and low laugh as he noticed how her own lips hung slack in a grin. Totally enthralled and consumed.

It was enough to throw him over the edge. But first….

He lowered his mouth, catching her nipple in his lips to give her a long, teeth-dragging suck.

“Ah…” she gasped and quirked and bucked as her whole body shook beneath him. Around him.

Every spasm of her channel squeezed him, sucked him harder than her mouth. Divine pressure that he fucked against, all control, all restraint gone. His own breaths deafened his ears, his own body riding into the ground beneath her, the pulse of his cock against her walls as he finally reached his climax. Too much to control now.

He groaned so loudly, chest collapsing on hers as he spilled into her, groaning and shaking and sweating until every last drop of cum emptied at last.

Still so hot and tight and wet. She sighed, grieving that splitting pressure the moment he pulled away. But he clung to her tightly, face buried in the crook of her neck, inhaling the sweet scent of meadow grass and sweet flowers that covers her skin. He managed to purse his lips on her collarbone for a kiss between dry pants. “I never want to do that with anyone else… not in this lifetime or the next,” he rasped, and he could feel her smile bloom across her face.

“Me neither,” she whispered a reply into the soft silver curls near her face. “But I do want to do it again… now…”

He barely lifted his head, that cunning, desirous smirk canting his handsome features. “Let a man get a drink first, insatiable vixen that you are…”

Astarion jolted awake, the thick air of the Cursed lands still in his nose. Not sweet meadow and woodsmoke. His back was ridged with scars, not nail marks from her clinging to him. His stomach growled in perpetual hunger for blood, not just the aching throb that did still exist between his legs.

But somethings were just like his dream… or was it his memory… was it her memory?

Cordehlia still laid beside him, their skin pressed against one another as they rested in trance. And then, there was the stick of his cum that covered his stomach and thighs.

Cum from his sleep, from his dream of their first time.

Silver eyes batted open, a smile on her face until she looked at his embarrassed grimace. “Oh, Astarion…” she cajoled softly, “did you… did you see my dream too?”

“What do you think?” he tried not to snap, hand trying to hide the way his erection still seeped his seed onto his belly. “That was… our first time…”

“Mmhmm, and I’m ever so glad it wasn’t our last,” she purred, flashing him that same little smirk of seduction before she stuck out her tongue, licking that trickle of cum from where it hung midair from his slit. He groaned, so close to needing more than that to find his release if he wasn’t careful. But Cordhelia gave him another sly little glance as she got up. “Let me help you get cleaned up, my love.” She went for the basin and a rag, wringing out the water before kneeling at his side.

The mighty vampire was still too mortified to watch, to take his arm from where it hid his face in the crook of his elbow. “I can’t believe I just did that…. Last time this happened was the last morning you had snuck into my rooms in the manor… how you had to borrow my cloak that morning to hide yourself as you snuck back after dawn since we got so carried away that morning after…” he waved his dexterous hand over his hips, “…this.”

“Astarion Ancunìn,” Cordehlia froze, rag mid-swipe over his balls, “are you… remembering?”

It smacked him from the inside. The perfect recollection of that morning, covered in his own cum, burning off his morning lust with her lips sucking him clean until he came again…

“Yes,” he replied, lifting his arm and sitting upright. “Yes, I am remembering…”

A sad, relieved, joyous smile danced over her lips. She fell on his body, trapping his face between her palms. Kissing him until he couldn’t catch a breath between her lips, not that he needed one to survive.

Not in the same way he needed her to survive now.

But he had one last little memory. “You never did give me that cloak back, did you?” he chuckled low in his throat, feeling her answering smile.

“Guess I can’t lie now that you are remembering…” she teased, keeping his face so close to hers, she never wanted to let go.

“No, you can’t, my love. You can’t…”

[restinslices]

Mortality

Jesper Fahey x Spouse (no gender specified) Word count: 2150 Summary: You and Jesper aged differently. You aged as any Otkazat’sya did. Jesper on the other hand is Grisha and ages much slower. As your mortality gets closer and closer, you and Jesper have a much needed talk. Wrote this on my phone at midnight😀

People could say a lot of negative things about Jesper Fahey. 

He was a shit gambler, a flirt, a drunk, he didn't think, he could be selfish at times, he could give you a headache with one sentence, among other things that could make anyone go in the opposite direction. 

But it was impossible to say he wasn't loving. Jesper held onto people and treated everyone like family, even when there were conflicts. There were plenty of times when you and Jesper would have a disagreement, yet he still looked at you like he'd both die and kill for you. Jesper could sometimes make promises he'd easily break for the right price. The promises he made to you though? There was no card game, no shiny gun, no heist, no amount of cash that could make him turn on you. 

Jesper supposed that's how he got himself to where he was now and honestly? He wasn't sure he liked it. 

Was it selfish to say apart of him wished you two never became something more or maybe that he never met you? Was it selfish to look at your aging body and wish he walked away and stayed away after The Ice Court heist? Maybe. He wasn't sure he cared though. 

Aging gave him a tap on the shoulder, but aging slammed into you. That didn't mean you were unattractive in his eyes, it just meant your body felt the stings of aging. Bad knees, hips, shoulder pains, wrinkles, all that was normal and expected. Jesper practically looked the same as he did when you two met. You were closer to death but he felt like the true ghost; forever stuck in a single moment. No changes to himself, only to his environment and the people around him. 

Or maybe even a time loop, but only for himself. Everyone else was free and moved on. Not him though. 

Jesper didn't realize he was staring until you said something, 

“A penny for your thoughts?”. 

“What?”

“You're staring”

“Oh” Jesper said with realization, “an accident”. Partially true. 

He smoothed out the blankets in front of him to distract himself but that worked as well as anyone would imagine. Your face was imprinted on his mind, and although Jesper could've just laid down and went straight to sleep, he knew it'd be all he'd see when he closed his eyes. 

Jesper heard you close and set your book down, then felt your eyes on him. 

“What're you doing?”

“Smoothing these blankets. They're quite wrinkly”

“Why?”

“Why? Why does anyone do anything?”

You sighed, “why won't you look at me?”

“I'm getting rid of the wrinkles on this blanket like I said”

“Because you can't get rid of mine?”. Jesper's hands stopped moving and he finally looked at you and another wave of sorrow hit him. Why did your inevitable death hit him so hard? 

Maybe it was because you were the last one left. 

Kaz, Inej, Wylan, Matthias, they were all gone by now. Matthias’ death was the first hit he received since his mom passed and as time went on the rest of his family, even if not by blood, passed on. Sure, he had Nina but Nina’s home was Ravka. Nina was more often busy than not and she was not the fondest of Kerch. Many times you suggested moving to Ravka for a “change of scenery”. He knew the truth though. You wanted him to get used to living somewhere else so he could be closer to Nina and not alone. You were the last consistent thing attached to his younger life and by some twist of fate, he'd be doomed to outlive majority of the people he met. He wondered if he did something awful in a past life to deserve this. 

“You've gone quiet again Jes”

He shook his head. “I don't know what to say”

“Too much on your brain? Don't know how to get it out?”. He assumed you took his silence as an answer because next you said “just say whatever, even if it doesn't make sense”. 

He took a deep breath then. It's not like you two hasn't talked about this before, but it was usually a small conversation that he'd slip his way out of with some dumb excuse. 

“I have something to do”. “I'm tired”. “Let's go eat”. “I have to go write a letter”. The list went on and on. This time though he couldn't think of an excuse and with limited time, he knew he had to speak to your living body now instead of a tombstone. 

“I don't think I'm ready to do this without you”

“Do what?”

“Live”. It came out breathy and quiet. He could tell he had upset you by how deep your frown was. Or maybe that was another sign of aging. He couldn't tell. 

“I can't do it”. 

“Yes you can”

“I can't”

“Jesper Fahey you can break into a Fjerdan Ice Court, escape, survive months at sea with Kaz Brekker, go toe to toe with every gang in Ketterdam and you still use the words 'I can't’?”. In any other circumstance he would've laughed and made some comment about how amazing he is. He didn't this time though. Nothing really felt enjoyable or funny anymore. Not when you could have some attack at any moment and be gone. 

“You're beautiful,” he said. “Absolutely stunning. I don't think I've ever seen anything as beautiful as you”

“There's the stars and sea yet I’m the most beautiful thing you've seen?”. 

He nodded. “Absolutely”. 

“Is that why you're with me then? My charming looks?”

“You could look like all things wrong with the world and I'd still want you”

“Jesper the poet? I think I like it”. Your fragile hand held his and your eyes locked onto his. “You can live without me-”

“I can't”. The tears he had been fighting so hard to keep away finally slipped. He didn't bother wiping them away, too scared to let go of your hand. “I wanna be able to but I can't”

“Why?”. 

“Why?”, he  repeated. “I just can't”. 

Your thumb rubbing over his hand soothed him for a moment, but only a moment. That calmness died when you spoke again. 

“If this is hard for you, you can go. You don't have to see me like this”

“Where would I go?”, he asked with furrowed brows and a mix of hurt and confusion etched on his face. 

You shrugged. “Ravka maybe? Make it your new home-”

“My home is here. With you”

“You'll have to find a new one when I go”. 

His hand slipped from yours, frustration building in his chest. It all sounded so easy but it was only easy because you were the one dying. You wouldn't have to feel another part of you ripped away. You wouldn't feel anything anymore. He would. 

He'd think about it almost everyday and a hole would form in his chest and pull him into this thick fog and within this fog he'd hear the future. He'd hear a heart monitor go flat. He'd hear your breathing become shallow before it eventually stopped. He'd hear his own crying. Yet you would come along and act as if everything was alright. You'd be calm and fine while he was breaking on the inside. 

“Jesper Fahey, I am going to die and there's nothing you can do about it”. 

“What?”

“Jesper Fahey, I am going to die and there's nothing you can do about it”. 

“Stop”. 

But you didn't stop. You repeated it again and again and he thought he must've been hallucinating and finally reached his breaking point. He covered his ears but you grabbed his hands and intertwined your fingers with his. You opened your mouth but he cut you off with a broken voice. 

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because you don't understand you can't control this”

“I understand fully” he said quickly. “That's the whole problem. Can you stop being calm and show some sort of emotion for once?”

“What do you want me to do? To cry? To think about it and stress myself to a migraine like you do everyday?”. He hated how you looked at him then; with pity. It felt like with one foot in the grave, you'd always use the other to stay near him and soothe him and it made him feel selfish. “You wanna know how I feel?”. He didn't answer but you continued anyway. “I am terrified of death. Faith exists to calm us of this fear but honestly, I'm still scared. I don't know what's next. I don't know how it'll feel. I don't know if I'll see a light or if I'll be in darkness. I don't know how I'll go out and I don't know how it'll feel to take my last breath. I'm terrified but worrying about it everyday? That's not living. I'll be on my deathbed slipping away and all I'll think about is how I should've lived more”

“You are so stressed about me dying but honestly Jes? You're just making yourself live through the inevitable every single day. We should be loving each other now more than ever when we have the time. We're gonna get to my final moments and we'll both have regrets, the only difference is you'll have to live with yours”. 

Jesper couldn't help but let tears fall from his eyes. He knew you were right and that he should be holding you close during this time, but he couldn't help but listen to the tiny voice in his head that drove him insane everyday. Everyday was a reminder that for some unknown reason, he'd live much longer. Years would pass and he'd forget your face and always have to look at pictures or letters to remember you. One day he'd even forget your voice. How long would that take? 10 years? 20? 30? 

The more he thought, the more his breathing became erratic and his vision blurred. Blinking away tears didn't work. They'd just come back. You guided his head to your shoulder before your hand found its way to his back to rub circles on it. Jesper wasn't known to cry, but he cried. Hard. And you let him. When his breathing returned to normal, it wasn't because he was no longer sad. It was because he was exhausted. His eyes and nose had gone red by now and his face felt incredibly sore. 

When he quieted down, you spoke again. “I want to love you while I still can but if you don't want to see what'll eventually happen… I’m… I'm willing to let you go”. It was hard for you to say. He could tell because of how quiet it came out. Were you willing to? Probably. Did you want to? Absolutely not. He didn't need to ask or look at you to know. 

Jesper had a big choice to make. He stayed, spent the rest of your life with you and eventually buried you or he could leave and try to get a jumpstart at a new life. He wouldn't see age continue to eat at you and when your time came, he wouldn't be there. He'd be leaving you alone. He probably wouldn't know exactly when you died. Years would pass and he'd just guess that you were gone. 

Jesper was ashamed of how long it took him to make a decision. Leaving seemed so good. The pain of watching you continue to grow old would be no more, but then he'd be left with another pain; the pain of never seeing you again. Of knowing he abandoned you when all you wanted was to hold him close. You had no family and no notable friends besides him and Nina now. You'd probably be found and with no one to identify you, who knew what would become of your body in Kerch. A body with no name. And he'd become a body with no home. 

“I'm not going anywhere”. He finally lifted his head up to look at you and although he still felt that pang in his heart, he didn't look away and try to avoid your gaze. He just looked at you, mapping every detail of your face so he could look back and remember just how beautiful you were when you're gone. 

“I am so going to miss you”

“Of course you will” you said with a small smile and you finally got a chuckle out of him, even if it was small. 

You didn't have forever. You both knew you were on limited time and one day you'd be apart, but you both promised to love and cherish the time you still had together and maybe, just maybe, you'd see each other in the next life when the sun finally set on the both of you. 

I am feral for this man in the most wholesome way possible. Legit just wanna hold his hand and hear him talk about dumb shit.