#heartsick sigh

[ohyondermemphis]

would love to hear more about milk teeth! the premise sounds divine

Milk Teeth. Don't you just love that name? I remember thinking at the time that it was rotting, it was divine in it's ugliness. This is ugly and every bit as beautiful for it. There is a vibe I am very clearly going for in this.

First snippet -

He remembers soft ropes around his wrists and elbows, the fine bones of his shoulder blades tucked out like a bird without wings. He remembers fear and blackness, the creeping ozone of dark magic on his tongue and in his throat. The pain of penetration, not just of his body, but of his mind and his heart and the bitter pieces of his soul. These memories come in flashes, like pops of fireworks in a full dark sky. Disjointed, unreal. 

“It’s the brain's way of protecting you Harry, that’s-” She pauses, swallows, empathy in her eyes that drowns him. “That’s why you can’t remember.” Hermione is as calm as houses in the chair beside him, sensible to the very end. He wants to wrap himself in her warmth, wants to give her some kind of acknowledgement but the potions leave him tired, groggy. 

She was the only one he wanted to have called after waking up at St. Mungo's. 

They haven’t spoken for over a year. 

But he calls because she’s the only one left that could possibly pull him back from this ledge, because even though the last things they had said to each other were steeped in bitterness and disappointment, there had been no hate. He calls and she comes. 

They had shared no familiar bonds, other than the ones they had chosen to shackle themselves with. He has not spoken to Sirius yet, but Hermione tells him that his shadow is haunting the waiting room, pacing. Harry is frail, is fine, more than because he is still thankfully (that’s what he feels, even though he shouldn’t, he does) rounded with Tom Riddle’s child. 

Whatever spell Tom intended to use went unspoken, and in that desperation, that betrayal lay the loss of what Harry believed was a right world, better for having Tom Riddle in it. 

Second Snippet:

“Tom, I’m pregnant.” He looks at himself in the mirror, red shot green eyes and too curly hair. He runs his fingers through it, pushing it back. Watery smile. “I’m pregnant, Tom.” A finger floats across the reflection of the love bite in the mirror and his mind floats away for a second to hands and skin and teeth. 

He bites his lip. Rolls his eyes away, and takes a deep breath. In. Out. Looks in the mirror again, smiles at the blush on his cheeks. “I’m pregnant.” 

He puts a hand to his flat belly, soft and hesitant, unsure and unexpected.

[dreamerwriternstargazer]

[insanechayne]

~ ~ ~

[ninzied]

green things

alex kisses henry to make another guy jealous. that’s it. no other reason. based on a prompt for @onthewaytosomewhere. modern au. 1.9k.

“You’re quiet tonight,” Pez remarks, halfway through one of the worst house parties Alex has been to in his life. Seriously; he’s been to so many, and none of the others even compare. “Something on your mind?”

Yes. “No.” Alex takes a sip of his drink and goes casually back to not looking at Henry.

He’s kind of not really been okay-totally-watching-them all night, and it’s fine. It’s fine, because it doesn’t matter who Henry talks to, what matters is that he looks happy, and animated, and hasn’t stopped smiling.

He hasn’t stopped smiling all night.

“Hey, so, who’s the guy?” Alex asks.

Pez glances over. “Ah—yes, that’s a visiting prof in Henry’s department. Hazza talks about him quite a lot, actually.”

Alex grits his teeth so hard he’s surprised that none of them crack. “Does he.” He refrains from adding under his breath, Well, I’ve never heard of him.

“All the time, as a matter of fact,” Pez continues. He doesn’t even sound like he’s had to exaggerate. “And with good reason. It’s not even that he’s easy on the eyes, though there is that too. He’s already accomplished so much in the field despite being our age, from what I understand.”

“I see,” Alex says as neutrally as possible. He’s starting to see a lot from where he’s standing, actually, and he doesn’t like it. Like, at all.

Pez raises a perfectly shaped eyebrow at him. “Do I spy something green?”

“No,” Alex says quickly, too quickly this time. “Nope. Definitely not.”

“Well, if you say so.” Pez pops an hors d’oeuvre in his mouth and chews, surveying the room like it’s his own private theatre. Like he’s waiting for something. Like he has a vision. It’s both impressive and disconcerting to see.

As if on cue, someone comes up to Mister Accomplished and claps a hand on his stupid-broad shoulder, drawing his attention away. He flashes Henry a grin—one that’s way too white and with too many teeth, in Alex’s opinion—before walking off and leaving Henry alone in the corner.

Henry, who’s no longer smiling as he closes his eyes and sags at the shoulders. He tilts his glass back and drinks.

Well, fuck. Alex can’t even be glad anymore that the guy has just left because now he wants to punch him for it.

“Douchebag much?” he mutters under his breath.

“Oh, most excellent,” Pez is saying at the same time. “Couldn’t have planned the thing better myself.” He clears his throat, all business-like all of a sudden. “It appears that our poppet is in need of assistance. Are you up to the task, Alexander?”

“Wait.” But Alex finds himself getting pulled along by the sheer force of Pez’s will before he’s even finished speaking. “What task, exactly?”

Pez looks two seconds away from rubbing his hands together like some kind of cartoon villain. “Nothing like making a man jealous to finally spur him into action.”

Alex sputters; didn’t he just say that he wasn’t—? But then he catches the pointed look Pez gives Mister Accomplished again. Oh. That guy. Then: “Wait, that guy?”

“Nothing gets past you, does it,” says Pez.

Alex makes a wild gesture. “You want me to make that guy jealous. Fucking how?”

Pez lets out a long-suffering sigh. “The fact that I must spell it out for you really does explain a lot, actually.”

“A lot about what?”

“One kiss ought to do it, I think,” Pez muses, almost to himself.

Alex swallows. Flirting with Henry every day like he does is one thing. Harmless, mostly, unless you count feeling heartsick that Henry never looks at him the same way.

What Pez is suggesting, though, may be the thing that tips Alex fully over into heartbreak territory.

“I don’t, um.” He clears his throat and glances toward Henry, who’s gazing into his now-empty glass. “What makes you think he’ll be down with this plan?”

“Absolutely nothing, he would never. Which is why we must be quick about it.”

“But,” Alex starts to protest.

“Alex.” Pez says his name like he’s scolding a child who’s being too selfish. “Don’t you want to see Henry happy?”

“More than anything,” says Alex, too honestly. Fuck.

“Then trust me on this,” says Pez, in the voice of a person who’s not to be trusted at all, before opening his arms wide and beaming. “Hazza, darling.”

“Oh, thank God,” says Henry, glancing up as they approach. “I need another one of whatever this was.”

“I have a better idea,” Pez sing-songs, then looks askance at Alex. “Unless, of course, someone’s getting cold feet. I can always ask if dear old Hunter’s available, I think I saw him by the—”

“No, I’ll do it,” Alex says instantly. “I’ll take one for the team.”

“Yes, a big sacrifice on your part,” Pez murmurs, and Alex shoots him a sharp little glare. Henry scrunches his brow, looking between the two of them in something like concerned confusion.

“Alex? What’s going on?” he prompts carefully as Alex marches up to him, taking a breath. He’s determined to do this for Henry, no matter the cost to himself.

“All right. I’m ready,” Alex says solemnly. “Lay it on me, Fox.”

“Sorry,” says Henry, “I still have no idea what we’re talking about?”

“Babe,” and Alex takes Henry’s face in his hands, “Don’t even worry. I’m here to make all your dreams come true.”

Henry stands frozen as Alex presses their mouths firmly together. There’s a second that lasts half a lifetime in which Alex thinks he’s made a terrible mistake.

And then Henry’s lips soften—wow, fuck, they are really soft, actually—and then he’s kissing Alex back and so hard that Alex stagger-steps, almost knocking a chair over as he pulls Henry even closer.

He tries not to totally lose it when he feels Henry’s fingers thread through his hair, or the hitch in Henry’s breath when their lips part and their tongues meet.

It occurs to him that they probably shouldn’t be kissing like this while surrounded by all their work colleagues. Alex doesn’t really care. All he cares about is how devastated he’ll be once it’s over.

Henry is the first to pull back. He’s breathless and smiling, and Alex’s heart hurts like fucking hell but this is what he wanted, right? To see Henry this happy?

Alex puts his hands on Henry’s waist, which, fuck, he shouldn’t have done that; now he thinks he might never let go. His breath comes up short as he gasps into the space between them, “Is he watching?”

Henry blinks. His smile falters a little. “Is who watching, Alex?”

“The guy you were talking to. I was trying to make him jealous.” Alex can’t bring himself to see if he’s noticed. Alex thinks he would rather die than look away from Henry right now. All he wants is to kiss him again even though he probably shouldn’t. “Do you think it worked? Henry?”

Henry has gone very still in his arms. The expression on his face is glazed over, distant. “That’s why you kissed me? To make someone jealous?”

Fuck, they really should’ve talked about this first. Fuck. “Yeah?” Alex winces.

“That man specifically? I didn’t even know you two were acquainted.” Henry heaves out a breath, looking strangely like he might be sick. “So you—you like him, then?”

“What? No, of course I don’t like him. I don’t even know him,” says Alex. Henry isn’t making any sense. “I thought you liked him.” Unless…shit. Unless Henry just doesn’t want them both liking the same guy?

Henry just stares at him for a long time. He’s looking kind of like Alex is the one who’s lost it. “You what?” Henry says finally.

“I thought you liked him,” Alex repeats, but this time it comes out as more of a question.

“You thought I liked him,” Henry says for emphasis. “That man.” Like there’s some other guy Alex could possibly be talking about right now.

“Apparently,” says Alex. He realizes he’s clutched the sides of Henry’s shirt and wills his fingers to loosen a little. It feels like some kind of miracle that Henry hasn’t shoved him away yet. “And then you looked so sad when he went to talk to other people, and I thought, I don’t know, that I’d help? Pez said you talk about him all the time, so…” Wait. Wait a minute.

Henry breathes out. Something solidifies in his expression, like he’s just worked through a math problem of his own. “Hmm,” he says in a weirdly calm tone. “Did he, now.”

“Yeah,” Alex says slowly. “He…” What else was it that Pez had said? Nothing like making a man jealous to finally…

Wow. Okay. Well-played, Okonjo.

“I see.” Henry looks pointedly around for Pez, who’s conveniently nowhere in sight at the moment. “Percy didn’t also happen to mention the fact that the man’s an absolute bellend who’s been gatekeeping my department’s research funding? That I’m thus woefully obligated to kiss the ground he walks on at parties?”

Ah. “He…did not,” Alex allows. “So, just to be clear, you don’t? Like him?”

“Christ, no,” Henry says firmly, and Alex feels something light in his chest flutter and try to take flight.

“Anyway,” Henry goes on, looking all sober now for some reason, “I ought to apologize on Pez’s behalf. He really was only trying to help, in his way. He knows how I feel about—well.” He flushes. “And I’m sorry, too, for kissing you like that. I was under a very different impression as to what it, um. Actually meant.”

“Yeah, hold up.” Alex straightens. “You kissed me back.” Henry looks cautiously on as Alex starts smiling and can’t seem to stop. “You had no idea and you still kissed me back.”

Henry goes a shade pinker each time Alex says the words. “Yes, well,” Henry says faintly. “I believe what you said was something about making all my dreams come true? Which I did take at face value.”

Alex tightens his hold on Henry again. Definitely not letting him go after that. “Henry,” he says. “You’re my fucking dream, are you kidding?”

“I—” Henry gazes at him. His smile is soft with something like wonder. “You’re serious?”

“How do you think Pez got to me?” Alex wants to know. “Do you have any idea how jealous I was of that guy when I thought you were into him?”

“Mm.” Henry tilts his head. “Yet you kissed me fully believing that it would, what, drive him so mad that he’d throw himself into my arms?”

“I did.” Alex takes both of Henry’s hands into his. “I want you. Henry. But I think I want you so much that the only thing I want more is for you to be happy.”

Henry’s eyes are bright and so very, very blue. “And if I told you that they’re one and the same?”

Alex is smiling so hard that it hurts. He never wants to stop feeling like this. “Then I guess that guy can be jealous all he wants,” Alex shrugs, bringing Henry’s hands up to his shoulders. “Because he can’t have your arms now, they’re mine.”

“Noted,” says Henry, mock-seriously. “Anything else you wish to claim while you’re at it?”

“Actually,” says Alex, “yeah, just so we’re clear,” and he pulls Henry back in for a kiss.

[fbfh]

we all know leo is probs a switch. but how do u think he would he do with sub reader??

YO. rip all of us because SHAKING SQUAKING WRITHING MOANING.

Leo with a subby s/o is like an unexpected paradise for him. he literally is such a simp. he's such a munch that his brain short circuits around you. he would let you toss him around like a rag doll. but when he finally shoots his shot and makes a move on you, the moment he sees your eyes go all fuzzy and your brain melt when he touches your face with his big warm hands that smell like metal and firewood??? when he watches your eyes flutter shut and you let out this soft little sigh???? Leo goes fucking ballistic. he can't believe it. he cannot believe that the gorgeous breathtaking angel on earth he's been heartsick over is sighing because he touched your face. he needs a minute to recover from that. then he gets curious. he starts teasing you a little, he starts making eyes at you and watching you flush and get all nervous. he starts touching you casually, an arm around your shoulder, a hand on your waist or your thigh, he starts playing with the waistband of your shorts to see how you react. and every single time it's better than anything he could have possibly concocted in his brilliant little mind. when he kisses you he has to hold you so you don't fall over. tbh it just makes him want to kiss you more. anytime he tries to ask you why you get all dizzy and fuzzy when he kisses you or touches you, tries to work out why your brain melts for him the same way he tries to work out problems in his engineering designs. he tries to figure out the way your pretty mind works, what makes you tick, what it is that makes your cheeks flush and gets you flustered like you do. but every time he does, he's already been kissing you and touching you and paying so much rapt attention to you that you can't form a coherent thought, much less express one. that's when it clicks. that's when he realizes that he's the thing that makes you like this. when I tell you this realization makes him burst into flames it's not an exaggeration. he did not think he could get anymore into you, but here Leo finds himself, pinning you against walls and touching and kissing you all slow, teasing you with his hands and his quippy little comments muttered into your ear more into you than he's ever been. he can't keep his hands off you after that and you don't want him to. by now you know that he knows the power he has over you. and he's still so tender and emotionally intimate and soft and playful with you. and GOD does it drive you wild. he fucks you slow and soft, drawing out orgasm after orgasm from you, knowing just what to do, and he kisses you all over until you feel like you can't breathe. he's so warm, so attentive, and he cannot shut up. he talks you through every single one. every. single. one. he teases you and praises you and gets you so wound up for him, he bites your ear and sucks hickeys into your neck and encourages you to make those pretty noises for him, to drag your nails down his back and pull his hair. and it's bliss. there are no words. and yet, just like it always does with Leo, somehow things get better. after you're both so fucked out that he's been shooting blanks, when you finally collapse into each others arms, you cling to him so tight. you bury your face in his neck and wrap your arms around him. you wish you could crawl into his skin. you breathe in his scent, listen to his blood thrumming through his body and Leo realizes that no matter what you are not going to get tired of him. you actually just like him so much that it's never going to be enough to satisfy you. and he pulls you close in his buff arms and rubs your back and kisses your head. he plays with your hair or taps little morse code messages into your skin, he talks to you, he hums songs, singing pretty spanish lyrics under his breath. and he can tell just by looking at you that you've never felt more at peace. you feel safe with him. you want him. and he is never ever going to disappoint.

[jordie-gvf]

heartsick slumber, Jake Kiszka

pic creds to @jakeforsakeher on twitter

title creds to @tripthelightfatality

creds to @ourlovegrows and @positivegvfthings

warnings : angst, cursing, accusations of cheating, cigarette smoking, use of Y/N, mentions of being drunk, slight issues with body image, allusions to sex, i think thats it, please let me know if i missed any!

word count : 2.1k+

thank you guys for being patient with me! i appreciate it more than you know

Whenever you got home from work, you would go upstairs and take a bath to decompress from the day. 

When you got home, Jake's car wasn't in the driveway, you figured he was still at the studio. You put your purse and lunch bag down onto the counter and went upstairs to relax. You shimmied off your outside clothes and headed to your bathroom. 

Your favorite part of your new home was the bathtub. You turned the faucet almost all the way to the left and grabbed your candles and bubbles. As the tub was filling, you grabbed a book from your bedroom. 

You lit the candles and added the bubbles. You put your hair up into a claw clip and settled into the bath. You had your phone next to you on the bathtub just in case Jake called you.

You opened your book and relaxed backward into the tub. You read for about thirty minutes before you start to feel hungry. You went to get up from the water when your phone vibrated next to you. You had a text from your best friend, Kylie.

Kylie Girl ❣️

Girl, you need to go look at Instagram, now.

You started panicking and immediately checked your Instagram. You opened the app to see pictures of Jake with a woman who looked completely opposite of you. She was skinnier, prettier, skinnier. 

The closer you looked, the more upset you got. He had his arm around her, kissing the side of her head. You checked the tags and zoomed in, making sure it was Jake, sure enough, it was. You found her name was Naomi.

You got out of the tub and got dressed in some simple shorts and tee. You locked your phone and went downstairs to start cooking dinner. 

You were halfway done cooking when Jake walked into the house, guitar case in hand. “Hey, Baby. How was work?” he asked you.

“Fine,” you replied, in a monotonous tone, not wanting to talk to him that much. 

“Okay,” he dragged out, not believing you. He walked into his home studio and put his guitar case down. He came back out to help you with dinner. 

“Can I do anything to help?”

“No, I can do it.”

“Baby, let me help you.”

“Jake, I’m fine.”

He put his hands up in surrender and walked into the living room to let you finish dinner. You made the finishing touches on dinner and called him into the kitchen. He put his guitar down on the couch and walked over to the dining room table. 

“Mm, you made my favorite,” Jake said, pulling out his chair and taking a seat. You grabbed him a beer from the fridge as well as a chilled glass for him.

You made honey glazed salmon, coconut fried rice and garlic parmesan knots. You served Jake his dinner and brought him a fork before you sat down. He said thank you and you decided to keep quiet.

“Okay, what’s wrong with you? You've barely talked to me.” 

You shook your head and pursed your lips, “Nothing’s wrong with me, I’m fine.”

He sighed at your response and proceeded to eat dinner. You picked at your food, nothing going past your lips. Once Jake was finished, you grabbed the plates and continued to the sink. You put the dishes in the sink and grabbed all the pots and pans for you to wash. 

You started the water and started washing everything before Jake came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist. He reached in front of you and turned the water off and said, “The dishes can wait, let's go make some noise.”

You scoffed and turned the water back on. “Go make noise with Naomi,” you said, coldly. He froze and removed his hands from your waist. “Seriously? That's what this is about?! Are you seriously not talking to me over this? She’s a friend from high school. I haven't seen her in a long time.”

“I’m staying at Kylie and Dave’s. I don't want to see you right now,” you firmly told him, silently telling him that there was no negotiating in you staying home tonight.

“Fine. Fine! Walk away from your problems and put your head in the sand!”

You turned your back to him and quickly went up the stairs to your bedroom. You locked the door and called Kylie, asking her if you could come over.

She picked up after two rings, “Hey, Y/N. You okay, baby?”

“Can I come over? I can’t look at him right now.”

“Of course you can, I’ll get the guest bedroom set up.” 

“Thank you,” you said through tears, gasping for breath. 

You promptly hung up and packed enough clothing for the next five days. You walked into the bathroom and grabbed all your toiletries and everything you needed. You put your shoes on and grabbed your car keys, ready to peel out of the driveway.

You clutched your phone to your chest and all but ran down the stairs and straight to the garage. Jake wasn't in the kitchen, but all the dishes were done and everything was put away. You heard the strum of his beloved girlfriend coming from his music room. 

Before you left, you grabbed a piece of paper and left him a note,

I’m at Kylie’s. Don’t bother texting or showing up. I’ll be home soon.

You had been gone for about 10 minutes before you started getting phone calls from Jake. You answered the phone after the 17th call, tired of hearing the constant ringing. 

“Where are you?”

“There’s a note.”

“Y/N, where are you.”

“McDonalds. Bye,” you hung up the phone, and sipped your Dr. Pepper. You texted Kylie and told her that you were on the way and that you got her an oreo McFlurry for letting you stay with her. 

When you got to Kylie’s house, Dave greeted you at your car and gave you a big hug, letting you know that you would be all right. 

Kylie came out shortly after him and brought you inside while Dave grabbed your stuff. She had her arms wrapped around your shoulders and put you down on the couch. He brought your stuff into the guest bedroom and went to their bedroom to give you and Kylie some space to talk.

“So, what happened?” She asked you, wanting all the details

“When you texted me, I was in the tub. I looked at instagram and did some snooping and eventually found out that it was him. When he came home, I knew he knew something was wrong with me. I didn't even touch dinner and when I went to do the dishes, he wanted to go upstairs,” you took a second to calm down, getting sad at the thought of leaving him by himself. As much as you hated leaving him, you couldn’t fathom looking at him right now. 

You continued, “I told him to go be with Naomi and that’s when it got heated. I never thought he would do this to me, not once. We love each other, whenever we get into arguments, we work it out. I’ve never left the house like this, he can’t sleep without me next to him.”

She grasped you tightly and kissed your head. “Go get some sleep, my love. We can talk about this in the morning.”

Dave came back downstairs and put his hands around your shoulders and told you, “Everything is set up for you, take your time.”

Kylie let go of you and helped you up off the couch to get you upstairs and asleep. You knew where their guest bedroom was, so you told Kylie to sit back down, that you could get up there yourself. 

You crested the top of the stairs and jetted for the guest bedroom. You opened the door to see the bed beautifully made, the pillows were propped up, and Dave had on Gilmore Girls for you. 

You sighed and lazily walked over to the bed, dropping your phone onto the bedside table and smushing your face into the soft pillow. 

You woke up the smell of pancakes being cooked. You checked the time, 11:03 AM. You got up out of the warm bed and trudged down the stairs. You saw Kylie at the kitchen table and Dave at the stove, flipping pancakes. 

Kylie smiled at you as you walked into the kitchen. “Here, I made you a cup of coffee. Brown sugar and milk.” You smiled at her and gladly took the cup of coffee, sipping gently on the warm liquid. 

You heard a knock on the door. Kylie popped her head up and said, “Don’t worry, I called in backup. It's Trysta.” You smiled at her kind gesture of inviting one of your best friends over. 

Kylie answered the door and in came your best friend, kindly smiling at you. “Hey baby girl, how are ya,” she asked. You gave her a light and quick smile, “utterly terrible. How are you?” 

She chuckled and said, “Dealing with drunks in my bar, had someone get on the bartop and moon everyone.” You laughed in response to her night. 

“How wonderful. I found out my boyfriend cheated on me, so that's how my night went.”

She gave you a downward smile and drank her coffee. You reluctantly turned on your phone, expecting to see a shitload of messages. 

“Oh Y/N, I never told you. Jake came in last night and drank. We had to get the bouncer to tell him to leave. We called him an Uber, I couldn't let him drive like that.” Trysta told you. 

“Thank you for not letting him drive. He say anything to you?”

“Yeah, that it wasn't true. That she was just a girl from high school. Honey, I really don't think he did it. You know what they say, the truth comes out when you're drunk.”

You nodded in agreement, sipping your coffee and eating your pancakes. “I should probably go see him, knock some sense into him.” 

Kylie perked up, “Are you sure you're ready for that? It might be a little hard on you.”

“Yeah, I'm ready. I was ready to go back as soon as I left. I know he can't sleep without me. Let me finish and I'll be out of your hair.” 

Trysta gathered her things and left a kiss on your forehead and left. After you ate, Kylie packed your stuff while you showered and put everything in your car. 

When you got to the house, you saw the familiar white jeep truck and an orange tesla in your driveway. You grabbed all your stuff from your trunk and made your way into the garage. Once you stepped foot into the kitchen, you heard Jake and his brothers on the back porch talking.

“You know you have to tell her, right?” You heard Josh say. 

“Tell her what? That I dated Naomi for two months in high school is now a lesbian and I definitely didn't cheat on her?” Jake exclaimed, throwing his hands up before taking a drag of Sams cigarette.

You stayed in the kitchen and listened to their conversation before pulling your pack of reds out of your purse and walking to the back porch. “Hi Jake. Boys, give us a minute?” 

Sam and Josh quickly nodded, Sam handing you his lighter, because he knows you always ask for his. You smiled at him quickly as he walked into the house, closing the back door. You motioned for Jake to sit with you on the bed swing. 

He followed suit as you laid down with your reds and pulled out a cigarette. Jake quickly grabs it from you, as per Jake, “I'll never make you hold your own cigarettes.”

You smiled at him, even though you were upset, he was still your polite Jake. He opted not to smoke with you, due to him and Sam smoking earlier.

He started first, “You know I never cheated on you. I wouldn't dream of it. I could never see you with another man. I'm the only one who knows how you like your tea. Your coffee order. You like to do puzzles before bed. You shampoo your hair twice, then brush it. You love watching movies with Josh. You can't sleep until I'm in bed with you. You love making love under the stars, and no one else would know that you love getting your tits sucked while you ride me. No one else knows you like I do.”

“I know you didn't, I heard you. I'm sorry for being such a bitch.”

“Youre sorry? Plum, you didn't do anything wrong. I should have explained it to you as soon as I got home. I’m sorry, sugar plum.” 

You grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him in for a big kiss. By now, you were finished with your cigarette. Once you stopped, you smirked at him and said, “Still up for making some noise?” 

“Always.”

taglist : @indigofallingsky @hellowgoodbye @ourlovegrows @gretnavannfleet @feilores @haileygvf @tripthelightfatality

[adiduck]

WIP Game - Ice Gets Divorced Snippet

Okayyyyy next up we have Ice Gets Divorced. Snippet of my progress on this one is below. Warning for alcohol: Ice is, what's the word? Ah, right. Wasted.

He lets his mind wander a bit—sliding along all the work he hasn’t done today, as he sat in a room with two lawyers and Sarah and attempted to separate their lives after over a decade of marriage. The lawyers keep saying they’re moving quickly, that it’s so nice to see such an amicable divorce, that actually things are going really smoothly, but all Ice feels is tired and heartsick. Sarah didn’t look much better today. It’s tax season, so she’s got to be run off her feet. Ice doesn’t know if it’s his place to ask about that anymore, offer to help. And he’s back to the divorce. He sighs, and takes another swig of vodka. He wonders what Mav’s doing tonight. Mav’s been a rock—for them both, Ice thinks, though he can’t confirm that. He showed up at Ice’s hotel that first night with a case of beer and dinner, made sure Ice wasn’t alone as he tried to process what the fuck just happened. He’s watched the kids during after work meetings with the attorneys, sent Ice more than a few house listings that Ice hasn’t had time to look at, and has definitely been playing ball with his COs more than normal. Probably to give Ice a break. Ice smiles to himself, reluctantly fond. He hasn’t seen Mav in days, really. He hasn’t seen anyone but his staff and the lawyers and… well, today, Sarah. Ice grits his teeth through the sudden wave of loneliness, the silence of the room looming up and around him, threatening to choke him. Suddenly, sickeningly, he feels like he might be the only person left in the world. Abruptly, if he doesn’t talk to a person in the next minute, he is very aware that he is going to scream. He doesn’t quite register the decision to pick up the hotel phone and dial a number until the phone is already ringing in his hands. “‘Lo,” says a warm, familiar tenor, groggy with sleep. “Is someone fuckin’ dying?” “Mav,” Ice says, and sort of slumps into the arm of the couch, ridiculously relieved for no goddamn reason at all. “Mav, this hotel is fucking depressing as shit.” “...Ice?” Mav asks, sounding incredulous. “Yeah,” Ice says, because who the fuck else could it be. “Are you drunk?” Ice thinks about it. “Yes,” he decides.

[pear1escence]

Flower in fall

David ‘Hesh’ Walker x Fem!Reader - 18+

Angst - Smut Now….I’m not proof reading this so if there are typos and inconsistencies I apologise but I’m not straining my brain any more for today bleh

—

You’ve always been someone more engaged in your thoughts than whatever goes on around you. On some days, the days pass by in a blur of nothing while you’re stuck twisting the same events over in your mind. What you could’ve done differently. Where you could have been right now.

Maybe if you hadn’t spontaneously walked into that bar on that particular night, you’d never have met him. Maybe you wouldn’t be so heartsick right now, so unsure of what to do. You think about how entirely devastated you felt by that hospital bed where the man you loved lay, unconscious, frail, his sun-kissed skin uncharacteristically pale. You sniff out the memory before it breaks you further.

There’s the buzzing of your phone on the coffee table as it lights up. You ignore it, as you’ve ignored it every other time someone’s called these past couple hours. You can’t talk to David right now. There’s a heaviness that sits deep in your guts that won’t let you. Scared of the inevitable heartbreak a relationship with him brings, the fear that ripples through you whenever he leaves, of the possibility you might never see him alive again. It wasn’t something you’d taken seriously, truly considered, not before Elias had called you on that god-forsaken, unassuming evening, his voice uncharacteristically shaky as he’d informed you of the critical state of his oldest son.

You hate yourself for it, how you’re causing him pain when you could easily avoid to. But you don’t pick up the phone, and a couple more minutes pass before it stills again.

—

Your spine is curled up by the headboard of the bed you share. The blinds stop the sunlight from trickling in, allows you to escape into what feels like a different dimension, secluded and completely isolated from the rest of the world.

You jolt at the sound of floorboards creaking under heavy footsteps, the sound of your name echoing through the walls, alerting you of David’s presence. There’s a knock on the door before it opens and he steps in. You hide your face like a child, unable to face him, your head buried in between your knees as your arms wrap around them tighter.

David calls your name, louder when you don’t respond. He sighs and steps closer, sitting on the corner of the bed, and you shift your face to the side. He looks tired. Sad. The corners of his mouth pulled into a near pout, and you’re not sure what he’s thinking right now. “I called.”

You stare back at him, sitting up straighter and covering your mouth with the hems of your shirt. “Why didn’t you answer?” He doesn’t even sound angry, just confused, there’s a devastation in his voice that kills you. There’s a gap of silence, several minutes passing before you answer. “I don’t know. I’m sorry.” You croak, your nose stinging.

“You can’t just…ignore me like this, as if I don’t exist, as if I don’t mean anything to you?” He frowns, standing up, crossing his arms and looking at you expectantly. Waiting for an answer you won’t give. He shakes his head, making his way into the bathroom, his shoulders slumped in defeat.

-

The sounds of bedsheets rustling and the bed frame creaking wakes you, but the comforting hug of David’s arms wrapping around you doesn’t come. You sneak a glance over your shoulder at the man lying on the other side of the bed, his arm bent at the elbow, a hand placed under his head as he stares up at the ceiling.

His torso is bare, the scar on his stomach in display. The bullet that pierced through his flesh, lodged itself so deep it almost claimed his life.

You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to even out your breathing, calm the storming beats of your heart. “David,” you whisper, shuffling a little closer to him. His gaze falls on you, and you continue. Explain how scared you’ve felt for him, ever since his accident. How scared you are of it happening again, only he might not survive. How scared you are of losing him.

Your cheeks are wet with tears once you’ve aired everything out. You choke on your silent sobs when the familiar warmth of his envelops you as David takes you into his arms, sitting up with his back against the headboard. His hand finds the back of your head, guiding you into the crook of his neck, stroking your hair as his chin rests on your head. You cling onto him as if he could disappear from your hands at any moment, he wraps a burly arm around your back, the two of you coming together like pieces of a puzzle.

You stay like that for a while, neither of you uttering a single word.

You take a final, deep breath before shifting your face to the side, supported on his shoulder. He’s crying, you notice. Pretty green eyes shining with tears that spill over. He doesn’t make any efforts to hide it, lets you take his face into your hands, press kisses onto his skin and wipe the tears away with your thumbs. “I love you.” He whispers, “And I won’t leave you. We’re okay.” It’s a promise you can’t doubt, for your own sake and for his. His hand weaves itself into your hair, pushes your lips against his.

“Love you too,” you murmur against him, kissing him gently, your tongue moving against his, licking into his mouth. It sparks up a desire for him, your hips grinding down involuntarily, in need of relief from the storm of sadness that’s been building up for days now.

He groans into your mouth, his hands meeting your hips, creeping underneath your shirt up to your bare breasts, kneading the sensitive flesh and pinching a nipple between his thumb and pointer before he pulls the shirt over your head, leaving you bare except for a pair of plain cotton panties.

His hands return to your hips as he leans back against the headboard, his hands kneading at the plump skin of your ass, taking in the view of your naked body. “Never get enough of seeing you like this.” he places a kiss on the sensitive skin of your neck, taking in the comforting scent of your skin.

“David,” you whine, raking your nails through the hairy expanse of his chest, all the way down to his flannel pjs, “please?��� He hums, his fingers finding their way into your panties and tracing your achingly wet slit, spreading your arousal all over your cunt. “This what you needed, baby?” He hums, nipping at your neck. Two thick fingers push into your poor, aching pussy, gently curling up against a spot that makes you whine, grind down against his fingers for more.

Your hand finds the bulge of his cock, palming him through his pants, his hand faltering in movement for a second as he groans, his brows knotting together, a look of desperation in his eyes that mirrors your own. You find the hem of his pants, tugging them down along with his boxers to access what you needed. His breath hitches, eyes meeting your own through his lashes, as your fingers skim along the length of his cock, wrapping around his tip and pressing around him softly.

He moves with you, his thumb finding your clit and drawing lazy circles as you stroke his cock in slow, languid motions. It’s a gentle pleasure, intimate like the loving revelations you whisper to each other, warm like the crook of his neck you bite into to stifle the whimpers of pleasure that spill out of your mouth, ones he thankfully makes no effort to conceal.

“I needa feel you, pretty girl,” he whispers, placing kisses that follow your cheekbone till he’s connecting them with your lips, his tongue moulding with yours when you obediently open your mouth. His fingers slip out of you to dig into your hips, push you closer to him, your arousal coating his cock as he runs his shaft between your lips, his hot breath on your mouth.

“Look at me, baby,” he groans, a desperate, yearning sound as he pushes into you, the thickness of his cock sending a tinge of pain through you as he stretches out the poor walls of your cunt. His arm wraps around your waist, keeping you close to him as your eyes meet his, “there’s my girl.” He hums, nipping at your lower lip before he gives you another kiss.

You curse at the delicious feeling of being stuffed full of his cock, his tip rubbing against a spot that sends sparks of pleasure through your thighs as you grind down on his thighs slowly. He’s got you wrapped tightly against him, his heavy breaths hot in your neck, craned to the side as you rest your head on his shoulder. You’re content to let your pleasure built up slowly, the slow circles of your hips pulling pretty groans out of him. His groin is hot, sticky with the pool of your joint arousal, and you’d be overwhelmed if you didn’t have his arms around you, grounding you to the moment.

It’s a feeling similar to the good weed highs, an overdrive of hot, sticky love, dizzying, your emotions heightened, completely focused on him. The slow lift of his hips, that needy look in his eyes. You’re still in awe of him sometimes, in awe of this bear of a man you’re wrapped up with, who feels so deeply, loves so sweet. “I love you.” You mutter into his skin, for the hundredth time.

He hums, a breathy chuckle leaving those pretty, pinkish lips. “Love you too.” His arms loosen around you, hands squeezing at your thighs, lifting you up on his cock and lowering you again with ease. The warmth at your core feels like pure, molten pleasure, and his heavy groans turn pathetic with desperation, pouring into you as his lips lock with yours again. You lift yourself up on your knees, just barely hovering over him but allowing him to fuck into you, your nails digging into his shoulders as he pistons into you. There’s something nearly animalistic in the way he’s practically rutting into you, chasing his release, the heat in your core pouring down your thighs in shocks of pleasure as your orgasm washes over you in mind-numbing waves.

Through the rush of your heartbeat, pounding through your eardrums with the aftershocks of your orgasm, you barely register the groans that spill out of him, the squeeze of his arms around you as he clamps you down onto him one final time, his cock buried deep inside of you as his seed spills into your aching pussy. The slow grind of his hips, his heavy breaths, continuous whispers of ‘I love you’ into the skin of your neck.

-

The aftermath of sex with Hesh you always look forward to. The damp towel between your legs as he cleans you up so that you can sleep comfortably, an ice-cold glass of water, the stroke of his hand on your hair, lulling you to sleep as you get to lie there lazily, knowing that even in this chaotic mess of a world you’ll always feel at home in his loving arms.

[radio-ghost-cooks]

imagine, if you will, Graves taking you on a fancy vacation

tags: Graves x gn!reader, vacation, shadow!reader, use of petnames ("sweetheart", "baby", "cowboy"), WTNV reference, just really fluffy

please imagine Graves dipping into Shepard's funds to take the Shadows on vacation. Shepard can spare a couple hundred thousand to give them all a few days off (that's how Graves justified it, at least).

it's this place in the Maldives. it floats! it takes a couple of seaplane trips to get everyone out there, but once everyone arrives? the whole place is packed with your teammates. a paradise packed with Shadows.

somehow, Graves managed to get a private beach house just for you and him. you feel a little badly for the Shadows who had to cram themselves into another house for it to happen, but knowing them they probably don't really care. that's the fun thing. you all love each other (everyone just knows that you and Graves love each other a Little Bit More than the others).

it's a taste of the high life for everyone. living in the lap of luxury for a few days. for you, most of it is spent cuddled up with Graves despite the heat.

"you're comfy," Graves hummed, nuzzling into your chest. "yes, and you're hot. literally," you had grunted, snickering a little under your breath, "Phil, sweetheart, it's nearly 90 degrees out here, and you wanna cuddle?" all he did was sigh contentedly and mumble, "you know ya' love it." you really couldn't say he was wrong as you wrapped your arms around him and drifted off a little with him.

the best part of the beach house was the fact that there wasn't a roof over the bedroom. it let all the cool night air fill the house and the sounds of waves around you lulled you both to sleep each night.

Graves brought his knees to his chest and smiled as he looked up at the sky hanging overhead. "what was that thing you always quote again, baby?" he murmured, completely entranced. "what," you asked, "'mostly void, partially star?' do i say it that much?" "kinda, yeah," he admitted with a soft laugh. "m'not complaining though. s' pretty." you gave him a cheeky smile and purred, "not as pretty as you, cowboy." he just shoved his hand into your face and snorted, pushing you back a bit. "oh god, 'cowboy.' are ya' really gonna start callin' me that now?"

it's so oddly domestic that it makes you both a little heartsick. you've known each other a while, but you still feel so overwhelmingly in love. that dumb, sappy puppy love that neither of you got to have when you were younger.

honestly, you could spend the rest of your life just like that. you, and Graves, and your massive number of idiot kids who are also your soldiers.

[ikea09]

"Come on, grandfather !" An 8 year old Telemachus cried as he ran up the road to laertes's hut.

He stopped and waved impatiently for the dawdling old man.

Surely he could go faster than this ?

"I'm coming, boy, slow down" laertes yelled.

Suddenly, the man collapsed.

Telemachus ran down to his side as fast as possible.

Laertes lay on his side.

Telemachus shook him, desperately hoping he was ok.

"Telemachus....." the old man wheezed at last, getting up on his knees.

"Yes?"

"Am I a good actor?" Laertes smiled.

Telemachus mouth hung wide and he pushed laertes's shoulders.

"That was cruel grandfather, you really scared me"

"Ok ok I'm sorry child. I won't do it again"

He patted telemachus cheek.

"Help me up and we'll walk together, hm"

Telemachus huffed, then got up, lended laertes a hand and yanked him up.

He gripped his hand all the way to the orchard outside the hut.

"The apples are ripe, shall we pick some then ? We'll make a nice pie~." laertes asked.

Telemachus nodded.

Laertes went off to fetch the ladders. Telemachus ran inside to grab the baskets.

The picking was easy and the apples looked amazingly juicy. They had managed to collect 3 baskets of them and Laertes chose 5 for their pie. The rest he stored away.

The baking was fun though it ended with both of them being covered in flour.

They sat at laertes table and he cut a slice for each of them. Taking a spoon, he carved off a chunk of telemachus' slice and fed him it, with a hand beneath his chin.

"It makes it taste better" he whispered.

Telemachus happily accepted.

Laertes took and fed him another chunk but found he couldn't take the spoon out of telemachus's mouth. The boy was holding the spoon fast between his teeth.

He chuckled.

"This is revenge, isn’t it" laertes sighed.

The boy only smiled. He looked positively dopey with the spoon hanging out of his mouth, Laertes thought.

Laertes pulled on the spoon a little harder and telemachus had to let it go.

"Aww , I really thought I could hold it" Telemachus whined

"Tsk. Tsk. The adult wins again." Laertes smiled cheekily as he tapped telemachus's head with the spoon.

12 years later...

It had been 2 days since the suitor slaughter.

Telemachus had been dying to talk to his grandfather ever since eumaus told him of how laertes had taken his disappearance.

"For many years, poor man, heartsick for his son, he'd always keep an eye on the farm and take his meals with the hired hands whenever he felt the urge to. Now, from the day you sailed to pylos, not a sip or a bite he's touched, they say, not as he did before, and his eyes are shut to all the farmyard labours. Huddled over, groaning in grief and tears, he wasted away- the man's all skin and bones"

Telemachus's heart broke to hear that but he had more important things to focus on.

He only told eumaus to send a slave girl to tell laertes of his arrival. He and odysseus had visited yesterday but he and laertes couldn't have a full conversation since the suitor's families arrived, looking for revenge. Afterwards, odysseus and telemachus had gone home.

So on he walked to laertes's hut.

He found the old man sitting slumped outside his house on a bench.

He kneeled in front of him and gently shook his shoulder.

"Grandfather? It's me, telemachus."

Laertes looked up at him.

"Telemachus?"

"Yes"

Laertes lifted his hand toward telemachus's face

and pinched his cheek, hard.

"AH!"

Laertes finally let go and Telemachus rubbed his cheek

"What was that fo-"

"HOW COULD YOU BOY? how could you leave us like that, scaring us all half to death? You could've drowned or been assassinated and , and-"

Telemachus could only look down in shame, rubbing his bruising cheek, his eyes becoming watery.

A hand clutched the back of his head and tucked his face into Laertes's shoulder.

"And i'm so glad your safe... " he whispered shakily.

Telemachus wrapped his arms around his grandfather. He felt his tears land on his head as laertes kissed his hair.

"I'm sorry grandfather.."

"Shh sh, don't apologise. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have lost my temper"

Telemachus eyed the apples in the orchard.

"Well, you could make it up to me with a pie."

"..alright, child"

Picking the apples and baking the pie went by quickly.

Laertes cut a slice, took a spoon and carved off a chunk.

He lifted it to telemachus's face and...

hesitated.

Telemachus was an adult, 20 years old. He had killed people. He couldn't treat him like a child.

And that hurt. It hurt to know the sweet, little boy he fed pie wasn't there anymore. He sighed. He would just have to get over it. He lowered his spoon and looked away.

Telemachus noticed and smiled

before opening his mouth, giving Laertes this last little mercy. He always was his grandfather's sweet boy.

And he always would be.

Laertes chuckled, slipping the spoon into telemachus's mouth.

Only to find he couldn't take it out.

Telemachus had bitten down on it and now held it between his teeth. He had that dopey, foolish grin again. Laertes tried to pull it out but telemachus's strength had grown in the last 12 years and he held on. Laertes tried again in their little tug-of- war but telemachus just jerked his head aside

and sent the poor man flying to the floor. He looked on, startled.

Laertes grabbed the table edge and hauled himself up. Telemachus finally conceded the spoon before Laertes got thrown again.

Laertes smiled and , for the sake of completion, tapped telemachus's head with the spoon.

At that, telemachus pouted and gave laertes big, watery eyes.

"Grandfather, why do you abuse me so? First you bruise my cheek with your cruel pinch and now you strike my head? What have I done wrong?"

"Your just trying to guilt me into giving you a second slice, aren't you."

"Is it working?"

"...yes"

[ohyondermemphis]

WIP Game

Rules: In a new post, post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it! And then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

Thank you @vashhanamichi and @alissiawrites for tagging me (and pulling me out of hibernation)!

I’m tagging @zombu7, @penmanner, @luxvespertine and anyone else who wants to do it!

the great war - part of the threaten me with a good time, ABO tomarrymort arranged marriage (oooh please ask me for a snippet)

milk teeth - domesticated tomarrymort, ABO again, pregnant Harry figures out his dedicated husband isn't quite what he suspects

heat lightening - tomarrymort ABO pregnant Harry, rosemary's baby vibes this is becoming an alarming trend

i put a spell on you - both female tomarrymort, violently obsessed Tomasina/Voldemort gets triggered when Draco tells her he's going to ask Harry to marry him

that christmas one - will never finish, rom-com come back together under christmas lights tomarry (soft, softest)

dark room, honey - poly Regulus/female Harry/Tom Riddle - no surprise incest, hate sex, anger and depression.

just not home - Sirius/female Harry/Voldemort - surprise, you're fucking your goddaughter

bring down the government - Albus POV - Voldemort's rise to power using the face and charm of Tom Riddle

promises me i'm as safe as houses - Tomarry, blatant sexual attraction and adventure between a reluctant hero Tom and the mouthy oracle he rescues when asked by his mentor

hell is round the corner - Tomarrymort - monsterfucking

Listen, I grew up in the era of song lyric titles and it shows. HA just looked at the top again, wow, I still cannot follow instructions.

It's too many - that's why I can't write shit.

[ivystoryweaver]

Spectre

A Moon Knight Halloween Love Story

Event #7: Angel Heart

prev | Fic Masterlist | My Masterlist | next

Event #7 Summary: Halloween is a magical time, where mysterious things happen.

Pairing this chapter: Steven Grant x f!reader (alters mentioned)

Word count: 3k

Content: angst, fluff-adjacent, the yearning, dealing with death and COD, Steven is so very Steven, not beta'd

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

PREVIOUSLY on "Spectre"...

You acted out of pure spectral instinct.

The sight of your partner "taking arms", or suiting up in his defense against you...It absolutely shattered you.

You thought you heard your name called, but it was galaxies away. The sound faded and all that was left was the Dark.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Steven was spooked.

After encountering what could only be described as a malevolent spirit in the form of his girlfriend, there was no way he would sleep a wink. Your pain had somehow devolved into rage, bursting out of you.

“A proper haunting,” he gasped, his Mr. Knight suit dissolving after you disappeared. 

What was happening to you?

Unable to calm down at home, he ventured into town again, his feet shuffling desperately along the sidewalk, crunching dead leaves as he hurried away from the haunting. 

“Don’t know what I’m doing,” he muttered, hands clutched tightly to the center of his chest.

Soon enough, Steven found himself staring into the darkened window of what was the "Mystic Delights and Other Charming Novelties," desperately seeking answers. The shop was gone. Ms. Marjorie was gone. You were gone.

"You blokes are awfully quiet," he said to his alters, feeling so alone and heartsick at the thought of your torment. 

You were murdered? How could it be possible? How could they not know? You were young enough that an autopsy was performed to determine cause of death, but the coroner assured them that your heart simply stopped, and you died of natural causes.

That was unbearable enough- a life so young, with unlimited potential. A moderately successful children’s book author, beloved by the small town you inhabited, and a loving partner. Why had a life been snuffed out so needlessly?

Now they had an answer: someone took your life - stole it from you. But the answer brought no peace - only anguish. You died because someone hurt you.

Steven knew this discovery was most assuredly what had catapulted him to the front, and sent Marc spiraling. 

One glaring question burned in his heart, above all others: why were you here? Was there some way they could help you find rest? Anything Steven could do for you, even in death, he would move heaven and earth - he would return to the sands of the Duat if he could help you.

With a weary sigh, he scuffed his foot on the sidewalk, giving one final glance to the Mystic Delights window. Walking around aimlessly wouldn’t solve anything. He would have to face what waited for him at home.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

What waited for Steven was a huge mess. He couldn’t handle cleaning it up tonight, so he made sure you weren’t in the bedroom before sleeping on the couch.

The next morning, he showered early and cleaned all the broken glass from the bedroom. He disposed of the broken lamp and changed the bedding. He wasn’t sure how to help you or Marc (or himself of Jake, frankly), but this, he could do. 

The idea of work was daunting, but he decided to show up to the library anyway. He stopped at Triple B’s for breakfast. He passed the old storefront where Mystic Delights wasn’t. Not one damn thing made sense to him, but Steven had been playing catch up most of his life. One foot in front of the other. Keep calm and carry on - all that. 

On the way home, he spontaneously decided to get a new fish. Everything was shit at the moment, so why the hell not? Walking his new finned friend back to Elm Street, he half hoped/half expected to witness the rustle of bedroom curtains in the window. 

Standing in front of your bungalow, he sighed, his eyes traveling over the bright blue - ahem, cornflower blue front door. An autumn breeze swirled, tossing dead leaves carelessly about and sending a chill through Steven’s thin jacket. 

“Come on, little friend,” Steven declared, holding up the clear plastic bag with a golden finned pal darting around inside. “You have to meet someone. An absolute angel. And you’ll have some company in your tank too.”

Once inside, Steven decided to introduce the new fishy into a fish bowl before adding him to the larger aquarium with the other three fish. Besides, he wanted to show it to you.

Yes, Steven was going to treat you with as much love and normalcy as he could muster. Maybe then you would feel comfortable enough to come back.

Trepidation built with each stair climbed. He hesitantly pushed open the door to your bedroom with bated breath, expecting to find the room empty. Deep in his heart, however, he hoped to find you sitting there on the edge of the bed, as you were last night.

Just as he thought, you were absent.  He checked the bathroom, to be certain, but, as usual, he was completely alone.  With a heavy sigh, he set the new fish in his bowl down on the nightstand and sank down on the bed.

“Wish you were here, my darling,” he sweetly uttered, glancing around the room. “It’s okay that you’re not. I only hope you’re somewhere good.” He nodded toward the fish bowl. “Brought us home a new friend. Thought it might be nice.”

He tried not to take your absence personally, but it was clearly he who’d encountered you the least. You’d spent substantial time with Jake and even more so with Marc. What was he doing wrong? 

“Just gonna leave Mr. Fishy right here while I grab something to eat,” Steven declared, pushing off the bed, his shoulders sagging in disappointment. “That way, you won’t be alone if you come back and I’m not here.”

An hour passed before Steven climbed the stairs. Honestly, he didn’t want to walk into an empty room again. Having remembered Mr. Fishy would be waiting for him and needing some company, he braved the climb, wishing with all his soul he could see you again.

Halloween is a magical time, where mysterious things happen.

So when Steven found you sitting on the bed, leaning toward the night table, talking animatedly to Mr. Fishy, a piece of his wounded heart instantly healed. He spoke your name, soft and sweet, his heart bursting with love and longing.

“Steven,” you breathed, floating off the bed, holding up your hands defensively. “Don’t go. I-I won’t hurt you. I didn’t mean to, before. I’m sorry, I - "

“‘S’alright, darling,” he soothed, nodding encouragingly. “Didn’t mean to upset you. I was just surprised to find out…” He trailed off, figuring mentioning your murder was the wrong way to go.

Having spent more time in the darkness, you came back to yourself, to this room, before  remembering the pure, unbridled rage that had burst out of you. 

“Oh, no…no, you didn’t do anything wrong. I…” You trailed off, your gaze dropping as your shoulders sagged. “I don’t know what’s happening to me, or if it even matters now that I’m gone. I just know I scared you. I could have really hurt you.”

“I don’t know,” Steven cheekily replied, hoping to lighten the mood, his eyes sparkling animatedly. “I’m tougher than I look.”

It didn’t exactly work. Shaking your head, you eased closer to him, the depths of your eyes sunken and sad. “You put on the suit to defend yourself.” Instead of arguing, he gave you a chance to say your piece. 

“Steven…I know it can’t be good that I’m here. It will only hurt you if I’m…haunting you.”

Dark eyebrows shifted curiously as he held your gaze. “Well…Mr. Fishy isn’t afraid of you, so I don’t see why I should be. You’ve known me a lot longer, after all.” He flashed you a grin. 

You smiled in spite of yourself, glancing at the fish bowl. “You named him Mr. Fishy?”

“Temporarily,” he laughed, his eyes twinkling with a bit of mischief. “I thought we might name him together. What do you think?” 

The hint of relief you felt only a moment ago slipped away from you. “Are you sure you want my opinion? Won’t that be like…an upsetting reminder?”

He frowned, confused.

“Of what? Getting another chance to see you, and talk to you?” Steven challenged. 

When you didn’t answer, he took a seat on the bed, near Mr. Fishy. Staring at the fish bowl for a few moments, he thought carefully about what he would say next. It meant everything to him that you not return to the dark, if he could help it.

“We died too, you know,” he softly uttered, tracing the fish bowl with his fingertip. “Marc and me. And Jake - he was trapped there, all by himself. And it was scary.” His warm brown eyes found yours. “And temporary.” He patted the spot beside him on the bed, beckoning you closer. 

You complied, easing down beside him, your skin tingling with anticipation. Only you didn’t have skin. 

“Can’t imagine what it’s been like for you, my love,” Steven whispered, staring sweetly into your eyes. “I know it’s hard, and lonely. I’m sorry. So sorry.

“Don’t know if it makes any difference at all, but…I’m here.” He reached for your hand, but, as always, swiped right through where you should be.

Marc did it all the time, but this was new with Steven. He gasped as his fingers tried to trace the vapor of you.

“Amazing, innit?” He whispered, his eyes wide with awe. “Here but not here.”

You exhaled shakily. “Yeah…”

Clearing his throat, Steven withdrew his hand, hoping not to upset you. “Can you feel that, love? Or only see it, like I can?”

At that moment, you could have sworn you had a heart, because something inside of you was thudding.  The air rushed out of lungs that weren't present and your non-existent cheeks burned with raw desire.  You sat beside him, the honesty of your feelings for him evident in the flutter of your bright eyes.  You moistened your lips, preparing to speak, but distracted by the feelings bursting inside.

You felt so real, you were certain Steven could pull you into his arms, hold you close and press his lips to yours. 

“I…feel,” you stuttered out breathlessly. “I feel things. Inside.” Motioning to your slightly translucent form, you realized how odd you sounded. So you shrugged. “Steven,” you whispered, scooting closer to him on the bed. “I feel my heart racing. I feel…warm.” The tiniest hint of a smile curled the edges of your pretty mouth. “When I’m with you, I feel warm.”

Gazing at you adoringly, his deep brown eyes melted you on the spot.

You swallowed.

“With Marc, I feel…solid. Steady. Substantial,” Your forehead wrinkled as you tried to explain. “With Jake, I’m bright. I feel like I sparkle.”

He nodded encouragingly, sweetly - just so…Steven.

Which made you remember, “I’ve missed you so much. I didn’t know why you couldn’t see me.”

“I wondered that too, but…” he trailed off, wishing he could trace his fingers over your cheek, the way he loved to do. “Maybe it wasn’t the right time. And now, we’re here, together - "

“But that’s just it,” you desperately interjected, floating off the bed, toward the window. 

“I’m not with you. I mean, we’re not really together. I can’t be with you. I’m gone and…and you’re alive, and the more I’m here, the more I want the one thing I can never have.” Squeezing your fists in frustration, you remembered that you shouldn’t get riled up. The goal was to not terrorize the love of your life. 

A few quiet moments passed, until you could somehow sense him behind you.  Turning your head slightly, you realized he was actually standing there. You imagined that if you could feel each other, he would wrap his arms around you protectively.  

““I wish I could hold you,”” he whispered beside your ear.  The sound was so sensual, it permeated your senses, sending shivers where your spine should be. Your eyes drifted shut as you basked in his presence, certain you could sense him somehow.  

Steven called your name, but your gaze was fixed on the darkened window glass. Your own, ghostly form reflected itself back to you, and Steven hovered behind you. The sight soothed you somehow.

“You can tell me what you want, my love,” he whispered, and you could swear you felt his warm breath on your cheek. “What do you want? If you could have anything. Don’t…bottle it up inside.”

You gasped out, emotions brimming inside your chest, but you could not cry. How would you ever have guessed you would miss crying?

“Steven...” you breathed out, squeezing your eyes shut. “I can’t.”

“You can,” he encouraged. “Tell me what you want.” 

““I wish I could show you…how much I love you.””

Turning around, you stared into his eyes, shining with love and concern for you. “I…I want to touch you.” Laying your hand alongside his cheek, you attempted to caress the handsome contours of his face, sighing wistfully. “I want a lot of things. But mostly that.”

He nodded sympathetically, his dark eyebrows shifting back and forth like a puppy. “I want that too.”

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

You and Steven decided to name Mr. Fishy after one of your book characters: Jeremiah. 

“Bit of a distinguished name, yeah?” Steven teased, pulling a soft white t-shirt over his head, driving you crazy as the shirt’s collar raked over his freshly washed curls.

Jeremiah was swimming happily in the fish bowl and you already felt a bit attached to the little guy.

Warmth and utter devotion bloomed in your chest at the gesture. Steven bought you a fish? You were gone and still he wanted to cheer you up, to make you feel as if you belonged. Such an angel.

You studied his face closely, truly feeling a little lighter after your confession about wanting to touch him. 

““Will you lie down with me?”” You ventured.

Steven’s face lit up with a warm, inviting smile that caused you to smile in return. ““Yeah, I’d like that.””

Lying on his side, Steven faced you, mirroring his pose, your bodies “touching” at the slightly bent knees, arms and foreheads.  

““Tell me something wonderful. How does the town look this October?”

“Spooky as ever,” Steven answered, choosing not to bring up the mysterious Mystic Delights shop again.

“Describe it to me,” you insisted, wishing to think of only good things. “And don’t leave out a single detail.”

Steven was more than happy to describe, in excruciating detail, every cobweb or jack-o-lantern on every front porch or storefront, even tossing in a few classic Steven puns, which made you giggle.

“I love that - the sound of your laugh,” he told you. “Best sound in the world.”

““You make me happy,”” you shrugged. As happy as a ghost could be, you supposed. 

You were so close, talking the night away, falling more desperately in love with every moment shared.  Dawn approached near and Steven was drifting.

“Help me stay awake,”” he murmured, nuzzling his cheek cutely into the pillow.

““Um, okay, how?””

““I dunno. Sing really loud.”

You giggled again, tracing your fingers over his mouth, craving contact, but knowing it would not come. “”It's okay if you fall asleep.””

““But - "

““Shhh, baby...”” You “ruffled” his hair.  Somehow it felt good to him. “”I don’t know how it will be for you if I disappear again. It's better if you fall asleep and wake up later.””

“”I don't want to let you go,”” he pouted, his words adorably slurred. 

““It's okay. Shhh...”” you hummed softly in his ear, something low and sensual, yet calmingly innocent.  Steven felt more relaxed than he ever had in his life, as if your voice was pure magic.  “”Sleep. I love you.””

“Mmm,” he drowsily hummed. “Wish I could love you back to life.”

That line zinged right through your body. You could swear those words alone restarted your heart.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Steven slept. 

You watched over him, drinking in his beauty, basking in his love. 

Damn, you sounded like a cheesy fanfic writer. Weren’t you an accomplished author while you were alive?

At any rate, you found a modicum of peace watching his long lashes kiss his cheeks. So peaceful, in fact, that you felt your own eyes growing…heavy.

Maybe the darkness was pulling you back. But this felt different. You felt…weary. As if you needed rest. Just a moment…

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

You became aware of yourself differently this time.

It wasn’t like emerging from the Dark Place. It was as if you never left, and spent all night in bed with Steven.

You felt warm. 

But not theoretically warm. You actually felt a wave of human warmth in your body. 

Your…body.

Something was different.

The first thing you actually felt was breath in your throat. You exhaled in a rush. Your eyes darted around, attempting to help you get your bearings.

But they were hindered by a gritty, burning sensation. You blinked. Skin eased down, reflexively to cover your orbs, relieving the sting with fresh moisture.

Your lips parted in a gasp…only your mouth felt cottony. You found it difficult to swallow at first.

Thirst.

Instinctually, you reached up with your fingers to touch your lips…and your fingertips made contact. 

Releasing a trembling breath, you whimpered as breath - real, heated puffs of air tickled your skin.

Your skin.

Fingertips traced parched lips, far too dry, yet moisture gathered. You realized then that your cheeks were wet.

Squeezing your eyes shut, fresh tears spilled down, blurring your vision. Reaching up reflexively, you swiped them away.

That’s when your hand collided with soft white cotton.

A thousand sensations electrified your body at once.

The clean, earthy smell of their body wash. The scent of fabric softener on their t-shirt. The way your tears left marks - slightly darker than the fabric. 

The sensation of cotton against your fingers. So soft.

And then you dragged your fingertips down past the sleeve’s hem to his skin.

Warmth met your skin - your flesh met his.

next

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

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[writeforfandoms]

Puppy Love 4

Find my CoD masterlist

The flirting is finally going somewhere!! Sorry not sorry these two are too cute.

Also we are now half-way through this fic!

Warnings: Swearing, cuteness overload, fluff.

Word count: 1.3k

John was still awake when he got a text at 1:30 in the morning. He was surprised to see it was from you, but he opened it quickly, half-fearing the worst. 

Instead, he found a video. Curious, he pressed play. 

Warbling puppy howls met his ears, along with muffled laughter. Another dog barked once and set the puppies off again. John's shoulders shook with the effort to not laugh. 

The next text came through, reading simply: I told you they're all menaces.

John smirked as he typed his reply. It is a very good thing they're cute. 

It is. 

Wait, did I wake you up? I'm so sorry! 

John chuckled softly at the back to back texts, shaking his head. I was still awake, don't worry. You didn't wake me. 

John! It's very late, why are you still up? Sleep is a good thing, I promise. 

His lips curled in a smile, warm and fond. He was briefly grateful nobody was around to see it. I know. I'm going to sleep soon. Just trying to finish up some work.

It was a few minutes before you replied, this time with another video. John pressed play, hoping for something entertaining. 

He was not disappointed. The video started peeking around a corner, where Sasha stood barely visible on one side of the baby gate. She barked once, wagging her tail, and a chorus of little puppy barks and howls responded to her. 

"Sasha," you groaned on camera. "You're such a brat, I swear. Go on, go to my room. Go. Shoo." 

Sasha bolted past you at full speed, skidding on the floor and hitting the wall before making it around the corner. The video followed her progress until you sighed. 

"One of these days, John, I swear, I'm going to be down one dog." The video ended, and John had to put one hand over his mouth to get his snickering under control. 

Then he had an idea. He sat up a little and took a picture of the edge of his desk, his lamp, and the clock on the bare wall beyond that. He sent the picture to you with a simple caption: Trade you.

You need pictures on that wall, it's so boring. Also, go to bed. Your paperwork will not rise from your desk to strangle you in the middle of the night, I promise. 

John gave up, standing and letting out a huff of laughter. "Whatever you say, sweetheart," he murmured to his phone. But he did send a reply. You get some sleep too. 

He locked his office and walked back to his room, rubbing a hand over his face. He didn't even realize he was still smiling until he was back in his room and caught sight of himself in the little mirror he used for shaving. Shaking his head at his own damn self, he got ready for bed. 

But he did check his phone one final time before turning off the lights. 

Sleep well, John.

–

Today was pickup day. You were excited for the families taking home a puppy, but also just a little bit heartsick. You'd miss the little furballs. 

Half the pups were gone already. You'd sent each one off with their last shots from you, paperwork, and well wishes. Three more were still coming. 

Including Kyle and John. You couldn't deny that your heart fluttered a little at the thought of seeing John again. 

The knock on your door sent Sasha barking, and the puppies followed her example. You chuffed a laugh and jogged to the door, peeking out before pulling it open. 

"Hi!" 

"Hi." Kyle grinned. "Is he ready?"

"Just about. Come on in." You held the door open wide for them both. "I just have to give him one last booster shot, and your paperwork, and he'll be ready to go." 

You led the way back to the family room, picking up Kyle's puppy and handing him over. "Here you go." 

"Hello Cupid," Kyle murmured, cuddling the pup close to his chest. "Hello cutie boy. Yes, you're gonna be my sweet boy, huh?" 

John snorted and muttered something about "softie", but you grinned. You knew better. He was totally soft on those puppies, too. 

It took you only a moment to get the booster shot ready, and you injected it quickly and easily. The puppy was so distracted with his new owner that he didn't even notice. 

"Nicely done." John smiled at you. 

The warmth of that smile and that approval curled through you, and you ducked your head a little. "It's not too hard with these guys, they're so distractible." You peeled the sticker off the booster and stuck it onto the paperwork. "This has his bloodline information. There's a sheet in here with the puppy records too - shots and such. And if you want to register him, that paperwork is in here too." 

"Very organized." Kyle didn't relinquish his puppy, though. 

"Yes, well, I've put together six of these already, I better be organized about it by now," you agreed, laughing. "Obviously you have my number, and you're always welcome to text or call me with questions or concerns." 

"Brilliant." Kyle smiled, rubbing his puppy's head. "Thank you." 

"It's my pleasure." You smiled and reached over, tweaking the pup's ear. "I know he's going to a good home." 

"Probably be spoiled rotten," John muttered. 

"Oi!" Kyle spluttered. "I'm not planning to spoil him that much!" 

"Soap."

Kyle paused. "Fair." 

"Soap?" You looked between the two, confused. 

"A coworker. His nickname is Soap." John answered, still amused. 

"I don't think I want to know." You chuckled, shaking your head. "Although I'd love to see, someday." 

"Bet we can arrange that, eh, Captain?" Kyle shot John a look that you couldn't quite decipher. 

"Gaz." John made a motion with his hand, and Kyle nodded once. 

"You still have three pick ups?" Kyle was very unsubtle, but you rolled with it. 

"Two more, they're both coming tomorrow." You smiled down at the little puppy with the yellow collar. "At the moment, she's staying with me." 

"Maybe we can arrange play dates, then." Kyle shot a sly look to John that you had the feeling you weren't supposed to see. 

You chuckled. "Maybe," you agreed. "That would be good for both of them." 

"We'll make it happen." Kyle grinned. "Any last bits of advice?"

You shrugged. "Start training early and you'll have no problems. Probably." 

Kyle chuckled. "Right. Thanks." 

You walked them to the door (after making sure John had the paperwork). Letting the puppies go was always bittersweet, but this time… well. You'd come to look forward to seeing these two. You were upset at the loss of potential with them as much as you were the puppy. 

Kyle walked back to the car but John lingered on the door step, looking around. You paused next to him. 

"Did you have any more trouble?" He asked, looking back at you. 

You shook your head. "No. No trouble." 

"That's good." He stroked one hand over his mutton chops, eyes sharp and fixed on you. "Now that your business with Gaz is concluded… can I take you to coffee sometime? Or tea?"

You smiled, slow and hopeful, heart beating fast. "I'd like that," you agreed, risking taking a step closer to put your hand on his arm. "Very much."

"Good." He smiled, turning to face you fully. "Let me know when is good for you. My schedule can be a bit… chaotic." 

"Will do." You squeezed his arm gently. "I look forward to seeing you again, John." 

He pressed forward, a brief, bristly kiss landing on your cheek before he turned and strode to the car. Kyle waved to you out the window, puppy situated in his lap, and you waved back. 

Maybe, just maybe, this wasn't an ending, but a new beginning.

[stray-kaz]

Twice Wounded : a Mal Oretsev x f!reader oneshot

Summary: You think that what you and Mal have is purely physical and are ready to call it off, until he proves to you otherwise.

Warnings: A bit of 18+. Mostly fluffy angst. Injury and blood. Mal being heroic.

Index: lapushka: Ravkan/Russian for honey, darling, etc.

A/N: I LOVE this. This is one of my favourite things I’ve written.

Sweat slicked and panting, you half shoved Mal off you while you simultaneously rolled away from under him. You turned away as he draped himself over you, kissing a line of stars up the nape of your neck. You shivered and closed your eyes, leaning over to grab the shirt you had discarded earlier and pull it on over your head. His deep voice rumbled in your ear.

“Are you okay, lapushka?”

You curled your hands into fists against your stomach at the sound of that tender word rolling off his tongue, so effortlessly sweet after the hay roll he had just given you. You nodded, but your neck was stiff and he knew you, knew your body, well enough to know that you were lying to him.

You felt him ease back and turned slightly to see him, see that his face had become inscrutable, the shield erected so you couldn’t see the truth of him. But you had been doing that since the start, so why should it bother you?

“Did I hurt you?”

The question came quiet, dark and low, an anxious thread woven through it. And it was then you knew he wasn’t mad, he was afraid he had harmed you in the course of the lovemaking, and that couldn’t be further from the truth. You were just heartsick and tired of lying, to yourself and him.

You knelt on the mattress and held his face between your hands.

“No” you said softly. “You never hurt me, Malyen. I am safe with you.”

His shoulders relaxed and he lay back down, brown eyes focused on your face.

“Then what is it?” he asked, trying to hide a yawn. “Come back to me.”

Heartstrings tugging you back to him inexorably, as always, you slipped back into your trousers before leaning down over him, one hand on his shoulder for balance, and kissing him deeply, surprising him. He grunted and slid a hand up into your hair, twisting it around his fingers and anchoring his palm to the back of your skull. His mouth worked under yours until you felt the same needy ache as before stoke up between your legs, and you made yourself pull away, lips already swollen.

Mal looked up at you, eyes dark and wide, knowing and wanting.

“So” he murmured. “Same time next week, dove?”

You startled, your eyes flashing to his at the use of yet another endearment. Same time next week. Same time, same bed, same man with the boyish grin and chocolate eyes. Chocolate contraband. Same foolish heart beating in your chest.

“Yes, I’ll be here” you told him eventually, and looked away from the grin he offered, his arms now propped behind his head.

“And I’ll be waiting.”

You stood and found your socks and boots, choosing to leave his room before pulling them on, unable to stand for one more moment in his company.

Once fully dressed, you leaned back against the wall, ignoring the curious eyes of an inn servant hustling past you in the corridor. She knew you; in a seaside town this small, it was hard not to. It was also difficult to conceal your own private business from all others, and so most everyone knew about the tall, handsome privateer in the turquoise frock coat who visited with you once every week, without fail, and had done for the last year.

You sighed then pushed away from the wall, head down, your feet leading you to the nearest exit without you needing to look.

As soon as you walked in through your own front door, your mother’s front door, she glanced up toward you, hopeful expression on her face.

“This time?” she asked, gaze flicking down to your hands and the still flat pockets of your trousers.

“No, Ma” you muttered. “He doesn’t pay me.”

She scoffed and went back to her sewing.

“Well, he should” she retorted, ignoring your bruised expression and quiet eyes. “We all know who he is, daughter. The notorious Sturmhond. He has money enough, and more, to pay you for his visits.”

You walked away, thought of slamming your bedroom door, then thought better of it, closing it with a quiet click and collapsing facedown on your bed to dry the tears on your cheeks.

The moment Mal’s boots hit the deck of the flying ship, Tolya was waiting, arms folded across his chest. Mal just looked back at him and waited, knowing what was to come next.

“Have you told her yet?”

“No.”

“Why not, Captain?”

The title was dripping with sarcasm and a little disdain. Mal sighed and scrubbed a hand over his hair, spiking his palm.

“Because it isn’t the right time” he said.

Tolya scoffed.

“You do know how weak that sounds, right? We have been flying here, from wherever we were first, every seven days for fifty two weeks. Your woman has even had a birthday in that time, for which you bought her a very expensive pearl bracelet. Not stole, bought. Not to mention the books you bring her every visit.”

“I didn’t bring her any books this time” Mal mumbled begrudgingly. “And she’s not my woman.”

Tolya shook his head, clicking his tongue in disagreement.

“Whatever you say, Malyen. But I do not believe you.”

“I’ll take that into consideration” Mal muttered as he shouldered past Tolya and made his way belowdecks to his study.

He looked around him at the wall mounted bookshelves, books pressed cover to cover all around the room. All for you.

Mal sank down in the chair behind his desk and groaned, pressing his face into his hands. He hadn’t thought he would ever be able to fall in love after Alina. But that was fate, destiny. This, with you, was a shout across the void, an answering call, and the choice to jump.

Next time, he would wear his wounded heart on his turquoise sleeve and say the words aloud.

Next time.

Next time, Mal grew increasingly frustrated as every person in your town he asked for your whereabouts gave him the same pat answer: you were unwell, and so not to be disturbed, not even to deliver a message. He walked the streets, searching for your familiar face and ignoring the hopeful looks of a few other young women eager for his attention.

You saw him as he strode past your house, on the other side of a narrow curtained window, coat flicking at his ankles like the tail of an angry cat, head on a constant swivel as he looked for you.

You pulled your gaze from him and instead looked down at the pearl bracelet clutched in your hand. It gleamed pearlescent and gold against your skin. It would have cost him no small amount. Maybe it was some sort of payment for your...service? Was that what you did? Did you service the sky pirate Sturmhond, Sankta Alina’s lost love?

You dropped the bracelet on the windowsill and turned away, reaching up to dash furious tears from your cheeks.

You wanted to grab him by his strong shoulders and shake him until he saw you, truly. Until he knew that all those afternoons and mornings under, on top of, beside him, were more than sweat, bliss and time wasted for you.

You wanted to go hoarse from telling him he was loved by you.

You wanted him to say it back.

You wanted him to mean it.

But you had lied to him, persuaded your town to lie to him, and he wouldn’t be back again. You were sure of it.

In spite of all his instincts screaming at him not to bother, Mal returned to your town another week later, but this time, he came as himself, bright coat conspicuously absent and replaced by his old grey greatcoat, warm and familiar to him. Collar turned up to shield his neck from the worst of the chill wind, he again marched through the streets, wary of the eyes that watched him.

“Where are you, lapushka?” he muttered to himself.

In all his hours in this place, he had never been to the beach. The flying ship could wet or dry dock, and he always dry docked it when he visited you.

Mal turned on his heel and moved quickly in the direction of the sea breeze, salt tasted on the air. Maybe his tracker instinct was gone, but he knew you and something told him he was right.

And the second the thick soles of his boots sank into the gritty sand dune, he saw you. The wind tore at your hair, whipping it across your face, but you were determined to read, your shoulders hunched to protect the pages of the book, making him smile. There were a few young Grisha a ways down the beach, practicing. Inferni, from the looks of the fire lashing to and fro between them.

He called your name, but the wind ran away with it, so he trudged over the shifting sands to reach you. Halfway to you, a flicker caught his eye, a flicker that turned into a flame. Mal dodged, his experience with Grisha leading the movement, and it swished past him. Past him to you.

He felt his stomach twist, hard and painful, and he started to run, stumbling on the sand, the fire spreading over your shoulder reflected in his dark eyes, your screams of fear and pain stinging his ears. He finally reached you, almost sick from the sight of the fire eaten meat of your shoulder, Grisha fire burning hotter than ordinary fire.

“No!” he gasped.

No, dove, no.

Mal lifted you bodily off the sand and waded into the sea with you, fell to his knees in the waves so that the cold water would wash over your shoulder, cleansing your burnt flesh. You were limp against him, dead weight, your pulse thready where he pressed two fingers to it. Your eyelids fluttered and you moaned in pain as sea salt entered the wound, abrasive and unkind.

“Malyen?” you murmured, barely moving your lips.

Your fingers curled in the front of his coat, head rolling to his shoulder.

“It’s me, dove. I’ve got you. You’re gonna be fine. I’ve got you.”

“Why do you call me dove?” you asked, voice a whisper so quiet he had to bend his head to hear.

A flicker of a smile touched his lips.

“Because you fly to me every time, lapushka. My little dove.”

You closed your eyes with a sigh and he grasped your jaw in one big hand, squeezing and shaking gently.

“No, no, no, no, no” he pleaded. “Not you, too.”

He looked wildly over his shoulder in the direction of the Grisha, now watching with hands to their mouths and eyes wide.

“Healer!” Mal roared. “Is there a healer here?”

One of the girls nodded and took off, and he lurched to his feet in the water with you in his arms, and followed.

You woke hours later, time gone missing, in a familiar bed that wasn’t yours and bundled inside a huge greatcoat that definitely wasn’t yours. The room was dim, only a little light allowed in through a crack in the curtains, but you could see a bulky shadow slumped in a chair near the door. You swallowed, your mouth dry as dust.

“Mal?” you croaked, testing your voice.

He jerked awake and was beside you in seconds, warm, strong hands running over your body, from your head to your knees. You closed your eyes. It had only been two weeks, but you’d missed him.

“Are you okay? How do you feel?” he gasped out, his touch lingering on your waist underneath his coat. “A healer came, but there’s a scar. I’m so sorry, dove.”

You were not deaf to the pain in his voice. You sat up and reached out, your hands coming into contact with warm, bare skin, and when you looked down at yourself, you saw that you were also wearing his shirt, buttoned haphazardly up your torso. But instead of shying away from him, you explored further, trailing your fingers over his chest, and he pressed himself into your hands. You splayed your hand over the thick scar that branded his heart, reminiscent of his death.

"I've missed you" you admitted, glancing up into his eyes through the shadows.

His dark eyebrows came together and he frowned.

"Then where were you? And don't tell me you were unwell, because I know that's bull. I waited for you. I searched for you."

You sighed.

"I know. I saw you."

His eyes widened and he turned his head away, wounded.

"Malyen Oretsev" you said softly.

He turned back, but he looked at you with fresh pain. You took a deep breath before beginning.

"I thought you only wanted the physical side of a relationship" you explained, speaking slow and clear. "And I couldn't do that anymore, so I lied to you and asked everyone else to as well."

There was a sweet furrow in his forehead that you wanted to smooth away with your lips.

"What does that mean?" Mal asked, his hands in his lap.

"It means I love you, but I want all of you, not just a few hours snatched once a week."

He stared at you, blinking slowly.

"Do you honestly think I've been dragging this big rig home to you once a week for a whole year just for sex?" he demanded, a slow smile kindling in his eyes and at the corners of his beautiful mouth.

You blinked, shocked by his choice of words.

"Home?" you repeated, quiet.

Mal nodded.

"Yes, you beautiful idiot. Home."

"I'm your home?" you asked, beginning to tremble.

In answer, he surged forward to kiss you, the rasp of his day old stubble on your skin and his rope roughened hands cupping your face. And then he was all you knew and the residual ache in your shoulder faded as he pressed you down into the mattress and sailed you home.

I am PROUD of this. Please comment/reblog.

[peachesyeo]

obsession ── hunter foreign part one

💌 parings: king!hunter x demigod!fem!reader 💌 genre: yandere, oneshot 💌 contains: non-consesual touching, mentions of greek mythology. lowercase intended. 💌 word count: 0.6k words.

:̗̀➛ 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐧𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 + 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 :̗̀➛ 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭? :̗̀➛ 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞? :̗̀➛ 𝐣𝐨𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭? (for all works)

to the next part?

you are the daughter of the greek god asclepius, as well as the great-granddaughter of the greek godness demeter. you are known for your beauty, as well as your healing skills, to which the queen of your kingdom appointed you as the holy saintness. you were happy too, residing in the temple to heal and help those in need.

soon, your name was known everywhere. people from other kingdoms will come and visit you, to see you. you would oblige and heal them, living up to your name of "saintness".

however, todays visitor is different. you fiddled with your thumbs as you paced around your room, remembering what the queen had informed you.

the new king of the rising kingdom is planning to visit today, and he had requested to meet you. the queen was unsure of his intentions, as that new king had taken over several other smaller kingdoms around yours.

"if you don't do well... he might also wage war against us, saintness. and if he do, given his strong army, our kingdom might fall. so please, as the queen, i pray for your meeting to go well."

you sighed, and jumped at the loud knock on the door to your room. "come in," you said, as your attendant entered, looking worried.

"the king has arrived."

you inclined your head and hurried over to the guest chamber, where a slim figure was waiting. you could see the king looking out of the balcony, and you took a deep breath, before walking in.

"please to meet you, your majesty."

the king turned, his dark eyes boring into yours. you held your breath.

he looked too young. too young to be a king with a brutal reputation around. you were surprised at how innocent he look, as he smiled warmly at you.

"my honour, saintness."

"my queen said that you wish to meet me." you warned yourself to not be distracted by the soft voice of the king. "what can i do for you, your majesty?"

the king's lips thinned, and he seemed to be a little unhappy. "please, call me hunter."

your eyes widened in surprise, but you quickly regained composure. "i'm afraid that against the-""i'll give you permission, saintness. call me hunter."

"h-hunter." he smiled when you called his name. "what can i do for you?"

"i've came here for one thing, saintness." he stood a little closer to you, and you moved backwards, wary of him. he's lips turned downwards at your action, and his voice a little colder. "to cure my heartsickness."

you swallowed silently. the air was tensed, and you back hit the pillar behind you. the king lowered his head, his hands on either side of you, trapping you.

"and you're the cure, saintness."

without warning, soldiers marched in. you hear the screams of your attendants and you pushed hunter off you, but he grabbed your wrist and forced you to go back to him. he wrapped an arm around your wrist, whispering in your ear.

"it's you or your country, saintness. be my queen."

tears gathered at your eyes as you watch your attendants being dragged into the room. they knelt in front of you and hunter, too scared to speak. your body shuddered, and you nodded, wanting to save your attendants.

he chuckled, letting go of you and signalling to the soldiers. they quickly departed, and hunter grabbed your hand, putting a ring on your finger.

"tha seperiméno, agápi mou."

your eyes widened.

this king, is a descendant of a god. you stared at the black ring on your finger, and at the helmet and skull carved onto it.

a son of the god hades.

➳ pernament taglist: @wonwooz1 @kwanienies @yeodeulz @enhacracy @leyittara @lonewolfjinji @sousydive @joshuahongnumbers @devilzliaison

[dollypopup]

enough of pen hot and bothered over thirst trap colin. i want this woman making heart eyes at him as he hoovers crumbs off his shirt. just full blown weirdo. watches as he turns to whoever else is looking at him going 'these are my crumbs! get your own!' and she's just sighing all heartsick like 'isn't he dreamy?'