#i hope we’ll get to find out someday

[grapejuicestyless]

To Love, To Love, To Love

Harry Styles x fem!reader

Summery: You thought you were over him in every way possible, but you can never really kill feelings that strong.

His curls were soft between my fingers, knuckle deep in his hair, pulling out the tangles with each curl of my fingers.

He hummed appreciatively against my chest, his cheek pressed to my body, lips resting heavily between the valley of my breasts. I could feel each breath lingering on my skin, his lip balm smeared on my shirt, one he had bought for me the night before to match.

“They just threw away the entire plot line in the fourth movie, I don’t get it. It’s like everything that made the first three so good was completely ruined for the sake of some extra cash.” Harry mumbled tiredly, pointing at the tv with narrowed eyes.

“This company always does this, can you even be surprised? Every successful franchise always becomes a cash grab for them.”

Harry hummed, and the sound vibrated against my body. It was all so serene between us. A calm after a whirlwind of a few years.

Harry and I had been two wild dogs, chasing after each other’s tails, running in desperate circles yet we ran at the same pace, and we never figured out how to capture what we wanted.

So many nights had been spent crying over the boy, how my heart ached with affection for my best friend, how badly I needed him to want me. I began dressing better for him, and carrying around mints with the hope that maybe the next time I would see him, he would have me.

But I was a dog with a bird at his door, giving him something valuable to myself that it seemed he never wanted.

Harry did the same things. He’d been drowning in his love for his best friend for so long, aching pains in his bones from the waiting for me. He’d never wanted anything more, but the talking from strangers and advice from friends led us astray. How could the other love each other? How could our best friend develop feelings for us? It all seemed so impossible, and the tears drowned us until we flushed out, and our conversations ran dry.

Nobody tells you that even once you move on, those feelings never really leave. Even now, after years of silence that neither of us meant to keep, after we convinced ourselves we flushed away our devotion and joked about how blind we were, with his head on my chest now I feel especially warm in the familiar house.

You can fall out of love with people, but there will always be that lingering feeling of “what if.” A feeling that bubbles until the warmth returns and your situations draw you back into the storm like a riptide pulling you under. Part of me would always love Harry, only now I liked him much more to ever try and be in love with him again.

Silence is much worse than any rejection. The heartache of realizing you lost contact three months deep hurts much worse than any apology for not returning your feelings. It’s like a knife.

We’ve grown now, we’re older, we can control ourselves. We aren’t teenagers who run around kissing the people by the bars, we stay inside and don’t go looking for something that will someday find us. When I complain that I want to kiss someone, to be kissed, he raises his hand eagerly and smiles, declaring he wants to press his lips to mine. But it’s all a joke now, or that’s how I see it.

Maybe to him, it’s not. Maybe when we make jokes about being in love, about the songs he wrote for me in my wake and the tears I shed over him it’s because part of it is still true, maybe we just don’t believe it anymore. Harry once loved me just as hard and true as I once did for him. Though we may not be chasing after one another, I know that part of him still loves me too.

When we’re forty and single, we’ll get married, and we’ll laugh about how long it took us to get together, but for now he lays on my chest and makes fun of some old movies that seemed better when we were kids. He points out the bad green screen that we never caught when we were younger, and his laughter will echo through my bones.

And I’ll soak up every moment with him, because even if we never happened, at least I have him. At least we never became strangers.

[artist-issues]

I love the comments and defense of the original Snow White but some people are not taking the defensive position that I would take, all things considered.

I mean, asking the question “since when is it bad to wish for love?” is one thing, but then sometimes people follow it up with, “and that’s not all she wanted! That’s not her main goal!”

Okay I appreciate you but yes it was. Let’s just call it like it is. And then don’t back down. Hear me out.

The first thing you learn about Snow-White is from that pretty opening-fairy-tale-book page, where it points out two characters: the wicked and vain stepmother who is afraid of Snow White and dresses her in rags to cover up her beauty, and uses her as a scullery maid—and Snow White herself, who is…well, used as a scullery maid.

Treated as a servant, and actively hated by the only family she has. And she’s a child. She hasn’t been alive very long to experience anything other than hatred and jealousy toward herself.

She’s even talking to birds, and the fact that they’re clustered around her from beginning to end of that opening scene indicates that they’re very comfortable with her and she talks to them all the time—because they’re the only positive interaction she gets to have.

That’s the situation that Snow White is in. But the first thing you learn about who she is and what she wants comes when she wishes in the well. And what’s she wishing for?

Love. The one she loves. A specific, male figure, who will say nice things to her and find her. She wants him to come quick. Why?

How silly. How vapid and shallow of her. How weak and one-dimensional. Please, goodness, can’t someone update her to have some depth?

NO. She is a young woman who is not given any love and is treated like a horrible nuisance who must be covered up in dirt and rags. She has no friends except birds, who can’t talk back. She is actively hated by the closest person to her.

It’s a miracle she even knows the word “love” and has the strength of character to believe in it after the situation she’s grown up in.

The song very specifically says “I’m wishing…for the one I love…to find me…today. I’m hoping…and I’m dreaming of…the nice things…he’ll say.”

She wants to be loved because she isn’t loved. Geez, she wants someone to say nice things to her. She wants to give her own love because she doesn’t have anything but courtyard doves to befriend. Of course it’s her goal. Of course it’s her wish. What wish or goal could be higher? And what wish or goal could be more natural for a character in her situation?

And even more than that, what could be stronger than believing that it will happen? This character who’s been unloved and mistreated by everyone takes a Prince at his word when he says he’ll give her that love. He promises it, and she believes him.

She has every opportunity and right to be bitter, hardened, anti-social, self-absorbed (pre-Huntsman and Dwarfs, she could very easily believe that nobody else is going to watch out for her except herself) and jaded. But instead she has this pure faith, which it takes a lot to maintain when everything has been ripped away from you. She could’ve been totally swamped by doubt and bitterness.

I mean, she could worry that the Prince won’t be able to convince her Stepmother to let him marry her.

Then when she gets chased into the woods for her life, she could fret that the Prince wouldn’t know how to find her.

Heck, she could just forget about him, give up, and say, “this is my life now, I’m living with these seven dwarfs and we’ll take care of each other, I guess that’s the most I can hope for.”

But no. She has faith in his promise, and hangs on to her dream, and sings, with total assurance, “Someday My Prince Will Come.” I mean, she won’t even let a moment of panic in the woods go by without reprimanding herself for losing that faith, for a second.

Can any of you say the same? Can any of you imagine being that kind of person: the kind of person who unashamedly wants to love and be loved in return, and when everything is stripped away and every chance at that taken from you, you hang on and believe anyway? You stay positive and even joyful anyway? For love?

Come on. Defend that. Yes, her goal was “just” to be loved. And to love in return. The fear of having her life taken from her, the necessity (not the desire for) freedoms from that, was just an obstacle in the way of being loved. And this isn’t a movie about Snow White’s natural reaction to abuse. It’s about her strength of faith in love in SPITE of that abuse. The spotlight is on her strength, not her weakness, but it’s strength of faith in love.

Anyway.

If you believe that it’s good and fine for a girl’s whole goal and fondest dream is to be loved, then don’t stand with one foot in that camp and another in the camp that says “girls want more than just love.” No, what? Love is the best thing a girl can want. I’m not talking about “romance.” I’m not talking about sex. I’m talking about pure, self-sacrificial, kind love. It’s the best thing they can want, and Snow White is one of the only characters who does want it unashamedly, uncomplicated.

Just defend that. Don’t try to argue that the “Someday My Prince Will Come” Princess isn’t wholeheartedly after love. Makes it look like you don’t believe that’s as wonderful as it is.

[just-a-sewer-goblin]

Butcher!Simon x gn!reader Part 8 continuation of your little date, I hope you enjoy! Also haven't proofread it because I didn't want to make you all wait another week for it. Sorry. You're welcome to point out errors to me. English words were hard this time, sorry if some of it is redundant. Part 7 | COD Masterlist | Part 9

Simon watches you from the corner of his eyes while you two walk alongside each other through the park. You’re tossing a ball for Wraith and the guard dog basically turned into an overgrown puppy at the sight of the toy.

It’s gotten late and after you spent the entire afternoon in the Café talking, Wraith needed a walk. Instead of saying goodbye you invited Simon to tag along. That’s a win, right? It’s a big step. You voluntarily decided to spend more time with him and Simon can feel himself vibrate with excitement.

“So an ex-soldier. What exactly did you do?”, you ask him while you toss Wraith’s ball for the thousandth time. You turn your pretty face towards him and he meets your eyes, puts his hands into his pockets and slightly shrugs his shoulders.

“Spec Ops.”, is his simple answer and you furrow your brows.

“Spe- what?” The confusion in your voice is adorable and Simon balls his fists, stuffs them deeper into his pockets so he doesn’t do something stupid (like pull you in and kiss you breathless).

“Special Operations. We weren’t really deployed somewhere permanently, instead they sent us wherever we were needed. Lots of stuff I am not allowed to talk about.”, he explains and wonders if you’ll be scared of him again.

When he looks at you, your eyes are wide. “Oh.”, you mutter and seem to think hard. It grows quiet for a minute and a small smile finds its way onto Simon’s lips. You’re chewing your lips again, seemingly troubled and who the fuck allowed you to look so adorable doing that.

“What is it, sweetheart.”, he asks, his voice warm and soft. He really hopes you can’t hear the lovesick undertone.

“I don’t know what I’m allowed to ask.”, you explain and grin self-conscious. He wants to lick the awkwardness off your lips (whoa okay, he really needs to get his thoughts in check).

Instead of doing that like a total creep, he tells you: “You can ask whatever you want, sweetheart. We’ll see what I can answer.”

You nod and think again. So far you haven’t protested his continued use of petnames. He enjoys it, enjoys claiming you with words in a subtle way. The only thing he’d enjoy even more would be you claiming him back. With words, marks, a collar, anything as long as he gets to be yours.

By now you’re walking closely besides him, and every now and then your arms brush against each other. It sends a shock up his arm every time, makes his neck tingle and his jaw clench in an effort to hold back, to not overwhelm you. The last thing he wants is to fuck up with you. As much as he wants to hold you he’d rather endure torture again than make you uncomfortable by coming on too strong.

“Why did you retire?”, you finally ask. “You don’t have to answer if you’d rather not!”, you immediately add in the same breath and Simon chuckles a bit at that.

The way you’re glancing at him seems nervous. It’s oddly endearing, like you’re nervous of misstepping with him. He quite enjoys that look on your face. Making you nervous in a way that doesn’t stem from fear is weirdly thrilling and he wants to keep doing it (would you be nervous if he pushed you up against a tree? If he used his height to his advantage and had you at his mercy? Would you be nervous if you had him at your mercy? God, he wants to be at your mercy).

“’s alright, sweets. Had a mission that went south, can’t really go into details. After that they set us up with a comfortable new life and told us to start over.” He can see the curiousness plain as day in your eyes and he wants to kick the officials who’re keeping him from just telling you everything.

Maybe someday he’ll do it anyway. Fuck if anyone can dictate him what to talk about. He’ll definitely tell you someday. Once he’s yours and sure you won’t run from him for revealing his past.

You cock your head at that. “Can you tell me about your team?”, you ask instead of prying and he could kiss you for that alone (he’s not sure he could have denied you, had you asked with your sweet voice and big curious eyes).

He nods at you and your face practically lights up with a big smile at the opportunity to finally get more info. He’s tempted to tell you every single confidential thing he knows, just to see you light up like that again.

“The lads are all in town. We’re four. Johnny, the fucker, owns a bakery. Flirts with everyone that comes in. People dig the accent.”, he begins and you perk up.

“Accent? It’s not the Scottish one, is it? What was his name…”, you seem to wrack your brain for it. “Mac…. Mac���”

“MacTavish.”, Simon supplies and you beam at him.

“I know that guy! His bread is to die for.”, you claim and Simon can’t really tell you that he already knows you frequent his friends bakery (he might have seen you there when he went to visit Johnny at work; might have worked out the times you go to Johnny’s and visited him more often around that time).

“He seems really nice but…”, you trail off and when you don’t continue Simon gently nudges you with his elbow to go on (you don't seem bothered by the contact, and he's surprised by himself for daring to do that so casually), curious what you might have to say about Johnny. You hesitate.

“Go on, sweetheart.”, he urges gently.

 “… he kinda intimidates me.”, you finally admit and suddenly Simon is grinning like the cat that caught the canary. Johnny intimidates you. Who would have ever guessed.

Johnny, who only recently teased him that ‘the cutie’ would never warm up to him because of his scary mask, intimidates you. Yet scary Simon is the one you’re taking a stroll in the park with. He desperately wants to rub it in Johnny’s face.

“Don’t tell your friend about it, but I can’t ever seem to remember his name. My friends and I refer to him as MacFlurry.”, you add, blushing but grinning mischievously.

Simon stares at you for a second and he can see the smile slowly drop and the apology forming on your lips when he starts laughing. He clutches his ribs, doubling over. Oh he’s gonna have so much fun with this information.

After a few seconds your laughter joins his as you’re helplessly giggling along, his booming laughter infectious.

“That…”, he laughs. “That’s great. Fucking MacFlurry.” He practically wheezes in laughter. Shit, he wants to marry you. Right here, right now.

Your giggle is beautiful and slightly bashful. Simon wishes he could catch it in a jar so he might listen to the heavenly sound again and again.

Finally he catches his breath and straightens up a bit, his eyes are twinkling, creases all around them from smiling so widely. He wants to tug you in close and thank you for existing.

“You know, sweetheart, I could always introduce you to MacFlurry and the others. We’re meeting up this evening. Wanna tag along?”, he blurts out before he can reconsider and your eyes grow wide and alarmed.

[plussizefantasia]

Unsure Hearts

Read Part One Here: Fluttering Hearts

Warnings: Reader gets grabbed, alcohol, I think that's it tbh

an: heyyyy... sorry I was MIA, lots of stuff going on I'll post an update about it soon. In the meantime enjoy part two of the Kili x reader fic from Flufftober. I think this will be a five-part fic including an epilogue and the next two parts are already underway. I've also got some requests ready to be edited and posted soon. Thank you for bearing with me, much love <3

Kili Durin x Human!Soulmate!reader

Word Count: 1.8K

Thorin was getting worried, Kili had become somewhat of a ghost story over the past month. He had assumed that his nephew was simply doing his duty. Kili had volunteered to be the envoy between Dale and Erebor for the discussions of armament and training. However, that treaty was signed a week ago, and said envoy position was no longer needed. So why in all of Arda was Kili still going to Dale every day? The young prince left as soon as he was finished with his daily tasks and didn’t return to the mountain until well after the sun had set. Thorin was not worried for his nephew's safety, after all, Kili was an excellent warrior and could take care of himself, no, Thorin was worried for Kili’s heart. 

Fili had also noticed his brother’s absence but the blonde prince had always been a bit more perceptive than his surly uncle. Fili had noticed that Kili was missing, but he also noticed that every time he returned to the mountain it was with the most dopey grin that he had ever seen. A grin that he recognized, for it had also graced his face a few months ago when he met his beloved Alma. Fili would bet his beard on it, Kili was in love.

You on the other hand were getting more and more annoyed each time the brown-haired dwarf walked through the front door. He was charming sure, and polite. But he stared. At you. The whole time he was there. And he was there a lot. His attempts to engage you in conversation were far and few between, the few times he was able to grab your attention away from the bustling building he became tongue-tied the moment your eyes landed on his.

Kili didn’t understand why he couldn’t say more than a few words to you without choking on his words. Your eyes had to hold some kind of spell within them. They enchanted him and left him bewitched every time he caught their gaze. It left him frustrated, he had never had this much trouble with women before, why were you so different? Deep down he knew though, you weren’t just any woman. He was afraid though, afraid that naming what you were to him out loud would make it real. And when it is real, it can hurt you. 

There weren’t very many stories on One’s where the love didn’t end up requited, either because it just simply never happened. Dwarves were incredibly stubborn creatures after all, and it was entirely possible that they just wore down their other half until some sort of connection formed. It was also possible that those unfortunate few who weren’t able to woo their other half died of broken hearts. The former was unlikely as Kili kept having to remind himself, he couldn’t die of a broken heart. Right?

He was determined tonight though, to find out definitively if the sparks he felt for you were just interest in the handsome woman from Bree, or if you truly were the other half of his soul. To do that though he would need to say more than a few words to you. The problem with that was that you seemed exceptionally busy tonight.

Busy you were, Brant had told you last night that he was going to be leaving today to go to visit family for some type of emergency. 

“If the place is still standing when I get back, we’ll talk more about it becoming yours someday.” He had said. You were hoping that that ‘someday’ was sooner rather than later. Brant was getting up there in years. Just last week he had hurt himself trying to lift one of the barrels of ale that had been shipped in from the Iron Hills. You had been taking on more and more of his old tasks and to be completely honest, it felt like you did the job of an owner anyway, just without all the benefits.

You weren’t going to let the man down though, even if it did mean rushing back and forth all night trying to keep up with demand all by yourself.

“Another! Y/N,” was yelled in front the back of the room. Roland was a boisterous man who got along with everyone, he was only a year or two older than you and was currently on his eighth pint of the night. He had a large countenance and seemed to fill up whatever space he occupied, he was handsome but the more and more he drank the less his looks mattered. Usually, this is the point in the night where he starts bordering more on unruly rather than fun-loving. Nevertheless, he was a paying customer and as long as he could still walk on his own out the doors, you weren’t going to say no to his money.

You grabbed another pint glass and poured one for him, balancing it and several other drinks on a tray. You steeled yourself with a deep breath before running back out into the fray. 

Walking close to the stool he was sat on you leaned slightly over him and placed his pint down on the counter beside him. He was engrossed in the conversation between the large group of men, something about the best way to skin a buck, you weren’t really listening. As you grabbed his empty glass to take back to the kitchen to be washed, his large hand encircled your wrist none too gently.

“A pint is a wonderful thing, but it is even more delicious when served by a beautiful lady,” He whispered into your ear. You grit your teeth and roughly pull your hand back. 

“Now, Roland, what have we said about touching things that don’t belong to you? Huh? Touch the wrong thing and you might just lose your hand.” You spit back at him. Cutting your eyes up at the mounted swords that rest above the fireplace only a few steps from where the two of you are. “I’d hate to have to clean those swords, they are sharp.” You look back into his eyes, satisfied with the fear that you see within them. You stand back up and place your tray back upon your shoulder. 

“Anything else I can get you gents?” You question the other men scattered about the space. Silence reigned over the air for a few moments. 

“Alrighty then.” 

A pint here, a glass of wine there, and two hot meals delivered later, your tray was empty and everyone in the place seemed momentarily satisfied. 

 Letting out a breath you lean up against the counter.

“What did you say to him?” A somewhat familiar voice pipes up beside you. You turn your head towards the voice. It's the dwarf prince, and you are once again struck with just how handsome he is. You are also struck with the familiar feeling of annoyance, of course, he picked now to talk to you. Just when you had finally afforded yourself a break.

“Hmm?” You raise a singular eyebrow at him. “Who?”

“That large and very drunk man in the back, I couldn’t hear what you said but I could see the look on his face. It was similar to my brother’s when our mother would scold him for forgetting his manners.”

“That’s not too far off actually, Roland over there got a little too comfortable and touched something that didn’t belong to him, I had to remind him of the rules.”

“And what exactly did he touch that was so forbidden?” The prince smirks and laughs.

You smirk back and lift a glass to your lips before uttering one single word, “Me.”

All of the laughter drained from Kili’s face, “He touched you?” His voice had gotten much lower, his eyes darkened right before you.

 You rolled your eyes. “I’m going to stop you right there Your Highness, I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I’ve been doing it for years. I don’t need some man, no matter how handsome he is coming to defend my honor every time I’m even remotely slighted. The trail of bodies will get far too long.” You stare into his eyes as you speak, putting all the righteous fury you’ve got stored inside into each word. 

Seconds tick by before he opens his mouth to speak again.

“You think I’m handsome?”

“I think that we have bigger problems if that is the only thing you got from that.” You took another sip.

“No, no, no I got the point, you don’t need a big strong man to come to your rescue. Lucky for you, I am not big.”

The laugh that sprung from the back of your throat caught you off guard, you slap a hand over your mouth in an impossible effort to catch it and shove it back inside. He was funny, he had never been funny before.

Kili liked your laugh even though it was closer to a snort than an actual laugh, and he would be foolish to ignore the way his heart picked up at the thought that he was the one who made you laugh.

“You- I- I have never heard of a dwarf who makes fun of themselves, in my limited experience your lot are very prideful.”

“Not as prideful as some other races, I should think.”

“No, you’re not nearly as prideful as the pointy-eared bastards who hole themselves up in that accursed forest.” Your words held a healthy amount of rage as well as teasing.

“I sense that there is a story there somewhere.” Kili raised an eyebrow, mimicking your face from earlier. He was desperately trying not to think about the fact that this was the longest conversation the two of you had had up to date.

“One that I’m going to need a lot more liquid courage before divulging, I’m afraid.”

“We can make that happen.” Kili wiggled his eyebrows and pointed at the bottles of liquor behind the bar that separated the two of you.

At that very moment, a shout from the rowdy bunch of men in the back rang out, calling for another round.

“Duty calls your highness, but perhaps I will tell you that story… another time.” You winked at him and grabbed for your tray again, beginning to load it up once more. If that is how conversations with the dwarf prince went all the time, you wouldn’t mind having them more often.  

You walked away before Kili could come up with a response, but he was more certain than he ever had been that your heart called to his. Why else would the very sight of you walking away feel like his heart was leaving too?

Read Part 3 here: Troubled Hearts

tags: @bunnybabe-babydoll @kokochanel111 @shiinata-library @oneiratxxia10

[obsessedwithhotmen]

⋆⁎✿ Finn ⇢ *- Taught To Please -* ⇠ Shelby ✿⁎⋆

⇾ (Peaky Blinders) Finn Shelby x fem!reader

⇾ Summary: essentially a part two for ‘Better than any other man’ where the reader teaches Finn how to please a woman.

⇾ Warnings: NSFW, oral (Female receiving) fingering,

⇾ Part One

It was safe to say that when Finn Shelby saw his brothers the next day, they had a few things to say about the rather dark bruises on their younger brothers neck. While Arthur assumed it had something to do with the whore that had been hired for him, Thomas knew it was something else, something that his brother wasn’t ready to share with the rest of his family, so he decided not to crack on to the young boy about it.

Although over the course of the week, the rest of the family began to question what the youngest member of the Shelby family was doing when he’d disappear without a trace.

So, as Finn was leaving after a long day of work, Thomas pulled him aside and into his office. “What is it Tom?” The younger boy asked, sitting down in the chair at the desk as his brother pulled out a cigarette, passing one over.

“We’ve all noticed the hickeys. Aunt Pol says you don’t return back home most nights. If it’s whores then I hope you’re being careful.” Tommy said, getting straight to the point.

Finn gulped, putting the cigarette to his lips and inhaling the smoke. “It’s not.” He said, shaking his head. “It’s not whores.” He confirmed.

Thomas raised a brow, sitting across from Finn. “Then who is it?”

“My girlfriend.” Finn answered.

Thomas nodded his head. “Your girlfriend… and who is that.” He inquired, wanting to make sure that Finn wasn’t putting himself in a bad place.

“I don’t want her to be apart of our business, Tommy.” Finn said, sitting up straight, attempting to appear confident.

“Very well, but expect that we will find out eventually. I’ll let the others know that a whore will no longer be necessary.” Thomas dismissed Finn, letting him finally leave, although he wasn’t planning on returning home.

Like normal, Finn showed up at your house, looking to stay the night. “Tommy knows about us, we’ll not about you. But he knows I have a girlfriend. The others I think are suspicious about it too.” Finn said as sat down beside you in front of the fire, enjoying the heat that the flames gave off.

“I know you said you don’t want them to know about me for safety reasons, but I don’t mind if you do want to tell them about me. It’d be nice to actually go out with you instead of meeting up in secret.” You tell your boyfriend, hoping he was willing to give it some thought and allow the two of you to go on proper dates together.

You watched him as his facial expressions shifted, as if he was lost in thought. “I know you’d like to go out, but it’s not my family that I’m worried about. It’s the threats towards us. I’ve already lost a brother because of it, and I can’t risk losing you too.” It wasn’t the response that you were looking for, but it also wasn’t something you could be upset with, after all he was right. His job was dangerous, a constant threat to those he cared for, and you could understand his fear for allowing people to know there are others out there that he cares deeply for. “I’m sorry.” He apologized, placing a hand on your thigh and lightly caressing your exposed skin.

“S’alright, Finny. I understand.” You smiled up at him, resting your head on his shoulders. “Hopefully someday we’ll be able to show the whole world that we’re together.” You mumbled, staring into the fire.

“Hopefully.” He repeated.

His hand had subconsciously shifted up, unaware of the state it put you in as his caressing drew closer and closer to your lower region.

You hadn’t noticed at first, that was until you felt the tingling sensation going straight to your core.

Suddenly, an idea popped into your head. You placed your hand on top of his, Finn thinking nothing of it until he felt you tug his hand further up your thigh. He glanced over at you, wondering what you were doing, when he noticed the hint of a smirk on your lips while you nudged him closer and closer. He didn’t say anything, opting for allowing you to do your thing while Finn silently observed.

When his hand disappeared beneath your skirt, and his fingers met your underwear, his breath hitched. “Y/n, what are you-”

He was cut off. “Remember when I said I would teach you about pleasuring me?” You asked, waiting for his nod of agreement. “Well… I was thinking we could do that today.” You suggested, shrugging your shoulders nonchalantly.

His eyes brows raised at your suggestion, head cocking to the side. “And what is it you want me to do?”

“You know what.” You replied, feeling a sudden warmth hit your face as you grew shy.

Finn, taking note of the change in demeanor, started to smirk. “No, actually. I’m not sure.” He teased, thumb softly rubbing as the skin of your thigh.

You let out a huff in defeat, “I want you to touch me,” you pouted. Finn said nothing more as he allowed for you to press his hand over your underwear, grinding into him, “please,” you begged, pulling your skirt up so he could see the positioning of his hand.

“Oh shit,” Finn cursed, watching as you pulled aside your underwear, “uhm- what do I do?” He asked, unsure of how to actually please a woman as that was never something that he brothers brought up.

“Just touch me,” you stated grabbing his hand, “right here,” his fingers came in contact with your clit sending a shockwave of electricity through your body, “and rub,” you added.

Slowly, he moved his finger around the small bud of your clit, watching the way that you physically reacted to the stimulation. “Faster!” You begged.

Finn picked up the pace.

His confidence grew alongside your moans, feeling encouraged by the sounds you made for him.

At one point, his fingers grew slippery from your wetness, causing his finger to accidentally slip into your hole, to which Finn pulled his hand away and apologized. “S’okay, Finny. Your meant to do that too…” once again you grabbed his hand, pushing all but one finger down and pushing it as your entrance.

His finger slipped into your wet hole with ease, feeling the warmth of your inside and wishing it was his dick instead.

He pumped his finger in and out, even as you grabbed his wrist and dug your nails into his skin. “Finn- I’m close!” You moaned, eyes rolling back.

You reached down to rub at your clit, letting your orgasm wash over you. Your legs shook as you attempted to keep them open, until your high ended and the sensitivity came, then you clamped your thighs around his arm, stopping him from moving any more.

“That seemed easy, I thought there was more to it,” Finn commented, pulling his hand away from your core, unsure what to do with the wetness on his fingers.

“There is more to it,” you replied, placing his finger into your mouth and sucking off the juices.

Finns eyes widened at your action, thinking of the very first time you gave him head, and then it hit him.

A smirk grew on his face as his eyes dropped down to your closed legs. His hands landed on your knees, shoving them apart to make room for himself.

You let out a squeak as he dragged you down the couch and closer towards him, this way you were laying down.

Finn got off the couch, kneeling down on the ground and hunching over so he could be eye level with your core, looking up at you to gather your reaction.

You ran a hand through his hair, nails softly dragging across his scalp, “you don’t have to if you don’t want to, usually men don’t like doing it,” you told him, but Finn was adamant in returning the favor.

He lightly kissed your thigh, trailing them up until his nose was almost touching your pussy, when he used his fingers to spread you apart, taking notice of the cum that had dripped out.

Finn thought back to how you started off giving him head, how you licked from the base of his cock to the tip, and kept that in mind. His tongue darted out, touching your hole and tasting your cum, before flattening it and licking up to your clit, feeling the little pearl flutter beneath his touch.

The way you gasped has Finn thinking he did something right with licking at your clit, so he kept at it.

He sucked and licked, listening and paying attention to your reaction with every little thing he did.

He could never grow tired of the noises you made.

Your legs were closed around his head, but Finn didn’t mind, nor did he try and open them, he just kept his focus on pleasuring you, and pleasuring you was what he was doing.

The hand you had in his hair was tugging softly, your hips gyrating against his mouth, “oh- Finn! Feels so good…” you moaned.

Due to your sensitivity from the previous orgasm, it wasn’t long before your orgasm happened once more.

You came on his tongue with no warning other than the rather high pitched moans and harder tugs to his curls. “Shit!” You cried, body shaking.

You were breathing heavily as Finn pulled away from your core, a daze expression on his face matched with a bright smile, happy to have made you cum twice without having to use his cock.

“Should have told me to do that sooner,” he joked, sitting up and leaning over you, placing a kiss against your lips, “you taste nice,” he said.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Please do.”

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

[hellspawn-enjoyer]

Another thing I need to rant about because I find it incredibly adorable is how these dorks have the nerve to have elements of a reincarnation romance in their romance together.  

What do I mean by this?

I mean having dialogue that lampshades that one feels like they’ve met before and the other feels like they’ll meet again. Karlach’s dialogue in her date night romance scene you get in Act 3. You and each companion get a different special response to asking her if being mysterious suits you.

This is her response for Astarion-

Karlach mentions feeling like there's something familiar about Astarion. The second picture is a common dialogue other characters can get, but it does add various meanings to her line specific to Astarion. Overall adding to their special connection and how they just sort of click when they first meet each other.

Feeling something familiar between them also plays nicely into them having similar woven parts in their unfortunate traumatic history. As well as them being a sort of mirror to each other. One that shows what they could've been, but also what they can still become since they can either improve or descend into becoming worse versions of themselves down the road.

This dialogue on its own is cute because of the fact it shows that she feels connected and understood by Astarion to the point that she feels they’ve been together for longer even though their time together at present is so short.

So the fact that Astarion has a similar feeling, but with her death makes it all the more gut-wrenching.

When Astarion tries to convince Karlach to go with him to Avernus to look for a way to fix her engine, if she declines Astarion will tearfully accept her decision but remain hopeful that somehow their paths will cross again. Basically, saying that maybe her death isn’t the end of their love, but instead the beginning.

So now we're getting into the whole Reincarnated/We’ll meet in another life romance trope. Obviously, you can roleplay this with any romance, but it just makes me particularly insane that it’s hinted a few times as a theme in their romance with special dialogue between the two of them. That they have a connection so deep to each other that they can feel it from another life.

Now, of course, I've got to talk about Ascended Astarion's dialogue if Karlach declines his offer to go with him to Avernus because it's interesting in it's own way as well. He essentially says the same thing to Karlach, but the way he says it comes across as being more confident that they'll meet again.

This, of course, can be read similarly with him planning to find her reincarnation and romancing her again or as Astarion willing to do some questionable things in order for them to be reunited with each other. You can see this as sweet, concerning, or both. All valid takeaways from this scene. Either way, he holds on to the feeling that their romance has only just begun and that they have something more awaiting them in the future.

Karlach's origin epilogue if she chooses to die on the docks also adds to this with Withers coming to her and saying that her death isn't the end of her story.

So even if you play their romance in a way that ends with her choosing to go out on her own terms their dialogue and this ending scene connects in a way that reinforces that they'll have a chance to meet again someday. Also implying that they're a fated pair, soulmates, romantic or platonic that have met before and will meet again, that just gets to me.

Overall another reason why I'll never be normal about these two and their relationship with each other! 😭

[satorulovebot]

THE GREAT WAR.

♱ genre. tragedy, WWI au, 18+

♱ summary. in the midst of world war I, satoru gojou drafted and sent off to the western front, leaving behind the love of his life with the promise of marrying her when he returned. he clings to the thoughts of a future with her and the letters she sends him in hopes of reuniting with her.

♱ pairings. satoru gojou, fem!reader

♱ word count. 8k

♱ tags/warnings. violence, suggestive content, major character death, profanity, mentions of drug use, weapon use, + more

♱ notes. this wasn't meant to be long or anything or fully fleshed out but i decided to share it anyways. i lowkey hate this but what can i say. i also made myself upset because of course i did. anyways likes and rb's always appreciated :)

December 1, 1917

My Dearest Love,

I hope my letter reaches you before we move further down the front and getting letters out becomes harder. I hope you’re sound asleep in our bed, enjoying dreamland with Charlie. 

I wanted to let you know that I think of you every day. I keep replaying our last night together in my mind. It was so precious, and I wish I could be there with you now. We talked about our future together. Even now, even here, I still dream of that future. It’s the only thing that keeps me going.

This war has shown me things I can’t forget, things I’ll never forget. I worry for Suguru too as he’s losing himself. Baby I can’t lie to you, it’s hard out here. If something happens to me and I don’t make it back, please remember how much I love you. I love you more than words can say. 

Please stay strong for me, my love. I’ll hold onto the hope that we’ll be together again someday.

With all my love,

Satoru

May 18, 1917

The radio crackles faintly as you twist the dial, trying to find the right station. The sound of distorted voices filled the small living room of your home. You are sitting on the worn couch that you and Satoru had spent countless nights on, talking about everything and nothing. Satoru sits beside you with his arm draped over your shoulders, his hand resting on your upper arm, fingers tracing slow, absentminded circles on your skin. It’s a small gesture, one that he’s done a thousand times before, but tonight it feels… different.

You finally find the station you’ve been looking for, and the voice on the radio comes through, clear and steady.

“…the President has announced that the United States will be joining the war in Europe. All eligible men between the ages of 21 and 30 are to be drafted into military service…”

You freeze at the words, like a winter chill had seeped into your bones. You feel a sharp, involuntary intake of breath, your hand tightening around the knob of the radio as if holding on to it will somehow keep the world from spinning out of control.

“They’re really doing it,” he murmurs.

You swallow hard, your mouth suddenly dry, and force yourself to speak. “We talked about this, but…” The words feel strange on your tongue as if they belong to someone else. “Hearing it…hearing it makes it real.”

Satoru nods, but he doesn’t say anything.

Finally, he speaks, his voice barely more than a whisper. “What are we going to do?”

The question hangs in the air, unanswered, because you don’t know the answer. How could you? You want to say something, anything, to reassure him, to reassure yourself, but the words would not come. Instead, you reach for his hand, lacing your fingers with his, holding on as tightly as you can, as if it might somehow keep the world from falling apart.

Satoru’s grip tightens around yours, and for a moment, you can feel the fear in him, the uncertainty. You’ve always known him as strong and always in control, but now, in this moment, he’s just as lost as you are.

“We’ll figure it out, baby. I promise,” He whispered.

Satoru pulls you closer, wrapping his arms around you as you buried your face in his chest. You breathed in the familiar scent of him, trying to memorize every detail as if it was the last time you would ever get to hold him like this. His lips press against the top of your head, a gentle, lingering kiss that speaks of promises made and promises that will be broken.

June 3, 1917

Tomorrow is the day that Satoru is set to leave for the Western front.

The golden light of the late afternoon filtered through the windows, casting long, melancholy shadows across the bedroom. It was a room you had filled with so many memories—laughter, love, late-night conversations that had lasted until the early hours of the morning. But now, the only thing that seemed to be there was a half-packed duffel bag lying open on the bed.

You stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame, watching as Satoru moved about the room gathering the the last couple of items he would need. He was quiet the entire time he packed his bags. You could see the way his shoulders were stiff and the subtle tremor in his hands as he reached for another piece of clothing.

Between the two of you, Satoru had always been the strong one. The one who could face anything with a smile, it was the thing that had drawn you to him in the first place.

“You don’t have to do this alone,” you said softly, your voice barely more than a whisper.

He paused at the sound of your voice, his hands hovering over the duffel bag. Slowly, he turned to face you, His eyes met yours, and in them, you saw the fear he was trying so hard to hide.

“I don’t know how to do this,” Satoru finally admitted, his voice rough, like it had been scraped raw from holding back so much. “I don’t know how to leave you.”

His confession broke something inside of you like a dam of emotions had finally been let loose. Before you knew it, you were across the room, wrapping your arms around him as tightly as you could, burying your face in his chest. His arms came around you instantly, pulling you close, holding on as if you were the only thing keeping him grounded.

“You don’t have to be strong all the time,” you whispered. “Not with me.”

“I’m scared,” he admitted, the words muffled against your hair. “I’m so scared, and I hate that I’m leaving you and Charlie like this.”

Your heart ached at his words. It was a side of him he rarely showed anyone, even you.  You pulled back just enough to look up at him, your hands cupping his face, your thumbs brushing away the tears that had begun to fall.

“I’m scared too.”

“Do you remember the first time we talked about the war?” Satoru asked suddenly.

You nodded, remembering the day that the news had broke about the conflict in Europe. It was just another story on the radio, something that had felt so far away. The two of you had been sitting in the same room, listening to the same radio, with your hands entwined talking about the life you wanted to build together.

“It felt like something that could never touch us. Like it was happening in another world, to people we’d never know.”

Satoru sighed, “And now, it’s all too real.”

When you looked up at him, you could see the same look in his eyes that you had seen when the draft letter first arrived.

You felt your tears start to fall as you reached up to touch his face, your fingers tracing the familiar lines of his features, trying to commit them to memory. “So do I,” you whispered, your voice choked with emotion. “But no matter what happens, I’ll be here when you come back. I’ll be waiting for you.”

​​Satoru closed his eyes, leaning into your touch. I’m going to miss you so much,” he murmured. “Every single day.”

You pulled him down into a kiss, slow and lingering, pouring all of your love, your fear, your hope into that one moment, trying to convey everything you couldn’t put into words. Satoru’s hands came up to cup your face, his lips moving against yours with a desperation that made your heart ache once more.

“I love you,” you could hear him say as he continued to latch his mouth onto yours. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

Without breaking the kiss, Satoru guided you towards the bed, his hands moving to your waist as he lifted you, laying you down gently on the mattress. The duffel bag was pushed to the side, forgotten for now, as he climbed on top of you, his body pressing down against yours, relishing the taste of his buttery lips on yours.

June 4, 1917

“Are you ready?” His voice broke the silence.

You turned to face him, your throat tight with the words you wanted to say but couldn’t find. Instead, you nodded, though nothing about you felt ready—least of all your heart.

Satoru approached you slowly as if he wasn’t sure how to comfort you without breaking down. His warm hand reached out and cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing away the tear you didn’t realize had fallen.

“You know I have to do this,” he said, his voice soft. “It’s my duty. I can’t—”

“Please don’t go,” you interrupted, the words spilling out before you could stop them. Your voice cracked, you were desperate to make him stay. You knew you were asking the impossible, that no matter how much you begged, he couldn’t stay. But the thought of losing him, of not knowing if he would ever come back, was too much to bear.

He pulled you into his arms, holding you close as if he could shield you from the reality you had both come to face.

“I wish I could stay,” he murmured against your hair. “More than anything, I wish I could stay here with you. But I have to go. I have to.”

You clung to him, your fingers gripping the fabric of his uniform as if you could keep him there, with you, if you just held on tight enough. “But what if you don’t come back? What if—”

“I will come back.” He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, the look almost pleading. “I promise you, baby, I will come back. And when I do, I’m going to marry you, and we’ll have that life we always talked about. We’ll have a family, a home...everything.”

“What if something happens?” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “What if—”

“Hey,” Satoru’s voice was gentle, and soothing, as he cupped your face in both hands, his thumbs brushing away the tears that were now streaming down your cheeks. “Nothing’s going to happen to me. I’ll be careful, I’ll keep my head down, and I’ll come back to you. I promise.”

His words were meant to comfort you, but they only made the pain worse. Because deep down, no matter how much he promised, there was no guarantee that he would come back. But you couldn’t bring yourself to say that. So instead, you nodded, forcing yourself to believe, if only for his sake. “Promise me you’ll write,” you said, your voice trembling. “Every chance you get.”

“I will,” he assured you, his eyes never leaving yours. “Every chance I get, I’ll write to you. And I want you to write to me too, okay? Tell me everything, don’t leave anything out. I want to know everything that’s going on with you, no matter how small it might seem.”

You nodded again, a small, shaky smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “I will. I promise.”

Satoru sighed, his breath warm against your skin as he pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead. “I have to go.”

You didn’t trust yourself to speak, so you just nodded, swallowing hard against the lump in your throat. Satoru gave you one last, long look as if trying to memorize every detail of your face before he finally turned and picked up his duffel bag.

You walked the man you love to the door, your steps were slow, each one feeling like a goodbye. When you reached the threshold, Satoru stopped, turning to face you one last time. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you whispered, your voice breaking.

He leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that was full of everything you couldn’t say—fear, hope, love, and the desperate need to hold on to this moment, to him, for as long as you could. When he finally pulled away, you could see the tears in his eyes, tears he was trying so hard to hold back.

“I’ll see you soon.”

And then he was gone, walking out the door and down the path that led to the street, where a car was waiting to take him to the docks. You stood in the doorway, watching as he walked away. When he reached the car, he turned back one last time, raising his hand in a small wave, a sad smile on his lips.

You raised your hand in return, your vision blurred by tears, your body shaking with the force of the sobs you were holding back. And then he was gone, the car driving away, taking him further and further from you, until he was just a speck on the horizon, and then nothing at all.

Finally, when you couldn’t stand it any longer, you sank to the floor, your body shaking with sobs that you could no longer hold back. You cried for what felt like an eternity with Charlie at your side, your tears soaking into the wood beneath you, your cries echoing in the empty house. 

When you finally had no tears left, when your body was too exhausted to cry anymore, you lay there, curled up on the floor, clutching the memory of Satoru close to your heart, the only thing you had left of him.

“I’ll be waiting for you,” you whispered into the silence, your voice hoarse from crying. “No matter how long it takes, I’ll be here when you come back.”

September 7, 1917

My Dearest Satoru,

I hope this letter finds you safe and well. I wish more than anything that I could be there with you, to hold your hand and tell you that everything will be okay. But since I can’t, I’m sending you all the love I have, wrapped up in these words.

Life here is quiet without you. The days seem longer, and the nights feel emptier, but I’m doing my best to keep busy. I’ve been tending to our plants you always loved, you won’t believe how much they’ve grown! The roses have bloomed beautifully this year, and I think of you every time I see them. I imagine you coming home and us standing together in the kitchen, just like we used to, with Charlie at our feet.

Speaking of Charlie, he’s been such a comfort to me in your absence. He’s still the same playful pup, always chasing his tail and trying to catch the birds that come too close. But I think he misses you just as much as I do. Sometimes, he will sit by the door, staring out as if he is waiting for you to walk through it. I take him on long walks, and every time we pass by the places we used to go together, he pulls at the leash, looking around as if he expects to see you there. I can’t help but smile and cry a little at the same time. He’s such a good dog, Satoru, and I know he’ll be so happy to see you when you come home.

I dream about the day you’ll come home, the day we’ll finally be together again. I dream of the life we’ll have, the family we’ll build, all the things we talked about before you left. And until that day comes, I’ll be here, waiting for you, loving you with everything I have. I’ll keep writing to you, and I hope that these letters bring you some comfort, some reminder of the life waiting for you here.

Please take care of yourself, Satoru. Stay safe, stay strong, and know that I’m counting down the days until you return. I love you more than words can say, and I’m so proud of you. Come back to us soon.

With all my love,

Y/N

October 12, 1917

The train clacked along the tracks, the noise doing little to soothe the nerves of the men inside. Satoru was sat by the window, his thoughts a thousand miles away.

Satoru’s hand slipped into his pocket, fingers closing around the worn edges of a small, creased photograph. He pulled it out, his eyes softening as he looked at the image of the woman who had captured his heart. Your eyes held all the warmth of a summer day, and your smile—oh, that smile—was the beacon that guided him. He could almost hear your voice, talking about the latest gossip or news.

As the train jolted along the tracks, Satoru’s thoughts drifted back to the last time he had seen you, the way you had clung to him, the way your tears soaked his uniform as you begged him not to go.

A soft voice broke through his reverie, pulling him back to the present. “Is that your wife?”

Satoru glanced up to see the soldier sitting next to him, a young man barely out of his teens, with wide, innocent eyes. He was looking at the photograph in Satoru’s hand with curiosity.

Satoru managed a small, bittersweet smile, his thumb brushing over the face of the woman in the photograph. “No,” he replied softly. “We never got the chance to marry.”

The young soldier’s brows furrowed slightly in confusion. “Why not? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Satoru sighed, leaning back against the hard, uncomfortable seat. His gaze drifted back to the photograph. “I was going to,” he began, his voice distant as he spoke, almost as if he were talking more to himself than to the young soldier beside him. “We talked about it, even picked out a date... But then the war came, and everything changed. I didn’t want to leave her, but there wasn’t enough time.”

He paused, his eyes clouding with the memories of that fateful day. The tears in your eyes as you pleaded with him to stay to marry you. But he had refused, not because he didn’t want to, but because he couldn’t bear the thought of leaving you a widow, of making you wait for a man who might never come back. It had been the hardest decision of his life, and now, as he sat on this train bound for the front lines, he wondered if he had made the right one.

“She must be something special,” he said quietly.

“She is,” Satoru replied, his voice softening as he thought of you. “She’s everything. The strongest, most loving person I’ve ever known. She’s the reason I’m doing this, the reason I’m still standing.”

He fell silent, his mind drifting back to the countless nights the two of you had spent talking about your future. You had dreamed of growing old together, maybe moving out to the countryside and live in a little house.

“What’s her name?” the young soldier asked, his voice pulling Satoru back from his thoughts.

“Y/N,” Satoru said softly, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he spoke your name. “She’s waiting for me to come back.”

“You’ll make it back to her. I know you will.”

Satoru nodded, though deep down, he wasn’t so sure. 

The train jerked to a stop, the shrill whistle signaling their arrival at the next station. The soldiers began to stand, gathering their gear as they prepared to disembark. Satoru carefully folded the photograph and slipped it back into his pocket, close to his heart, where it belonged.

​​As he stepped off the train, the cold air hit him like a slap in the face. The station was a bleak and desolate place filled with soldiers. Satoru pulled his coat tighter around him, his eyes scanning the crowd, searching for something, anything, that would remind him of home.

But there was nothing.

He glanced back at the train, at the young soldier who had spoken to him. Their eyes met for a brief moment, then the young soldier raised his hand and, in a small almost hesitant wave said, “Take care of yourself!”

Satoru nodded, though he couldn’t bring himself to say the words in return. He turned and began walking, the weight of his rifle heavy on his shoulder.

The journey to the front lines was grueling, to put it lightly. It was something that tested the physical and mental limits of every man in the company. The landscape was a reflection of the war: the fields now lay barren, scarred by craters and the remnants of past battles. Trees stood like charred skeletons against the gray sky, their branches reaching out like twisted fingers. It was a place that seemed to exist outside of time, where the seasons had no hold.

Satoru walked near the front of the column, though his thoughts were universes away. He had stopped trying to make sense of the war around him, instead, his mind clung to the thought of his girlfriend and his home. Every so often, his hand would drift to his pocket, where the photograph of his beloved remained safely tucked away. It was his anchor, the one thing that kept him grounded in a world that seemed to have lost all meaning.

Throughout the journey, there were brief breaks from the march. Moments where men could catch their breath and rest their sore legs. During these breaks, the sliders would drop to the ground wherever they could find space. Some lit cigarettes, the tiny glowing embers flickering in the dim light, while others simply stared into the distance.

Satoru usually found a spot a little apart from the others, leaning against the trunk of a withered tree or sitting on a flat rock. Once on a break, the company rested by the narrow road that cut through a ruined village. Satoru found himself staring at the crumbling remains of a church. The steeple had collapsed, the once-proud structure now reduced to a pile of rubble. A few scattered graves dotted the ground nearby, their markers leaning at odd angles as if they, too, had given up the fight against the ravages of war.

He was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of voices approaching from down the road. Another company was making its way toward them, the soldiers’ weary faces reflecting the same one that Satoru saw on his men. 

Satoru glanced around, his gaze sweeping over the unfamiliar faces. Most of the men looked just as worn and weary as his own comrades, their uniforms stained with mud. But then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a figure that made him pause, his heart skipping a beat. 

It couldn’t be—but it was.

Suguru Getou stood a little apart from the rest of his company, his back against the remnants of a low stone wall. He was staring off into the distance, seemingly unaware of the world around him, lost in thoughts that Satoru could only guess at. His face was thinner than Satoru remembered, his features more drawn, but there was no mistaking those sharp, dark eyes, or the way his long, black hair fell in loose strands around his face.

For a moment, Satoru was frozen in place. He hadn’t seen Suguru since before the war before they had been sent away from their families and to different parts of the front. Suguru had been sent to the front lines before Satoru did and Satoru had often wondered if he was even still alive, if he had somehow managed to survive on the front lines. 

Now, seeing him here, in the flesh, was both a shock and a relief.

“Suguru,” Satoru called out, his voice breaking the silence between them.

Suguru’s head snapped up, his eyes narrowing as they focused on Satoru. For a moment, there was no recognition in his gaze, just the cold, hard stare of a soldier who had seen too much. But then something shifted in Suguru’s expression, and his eyes softened, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Satoru, you bastard,” Suguru replied, pushing himself away from the wall and making his way over to where Satoru stood. There was a moment of hesitation as if they weren’t quite sure how to greet each other after all this time, but then Satoru reached out and clapped a hand on Suguru’s shoulder.

“Still alive, huh?”

“Barely. It’s good to see you, Satoru.”

“And you,” Satoru said.

Suguru’s gaze then drifted to the photograph clutched in Satoru’s hand. “Is that her?” he asked quietly, nodding toward the picture.

Satoru followed his gaze, his expression softening as he looked down at the image of the woman he loved. “Yeah,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “She’s the one keeping me sane out here.”

Suguru nodded, his expression unreadable as he looked at the photograph. “You’re lucky, you know,” he said after a moment. “Not everyone has someone to go home to.”

“And you? How are you holding up?”

Suguru shrugged. “I’m still here,” he said simply. “That’s all that matters, right?”

Satoru wanted to say something, to offer some kind of comfort or reassurance, but the words wouldn’t come. What could he say that would make any of this easier? What could he offer that would ease the burden they both carried?

After a while, the call to move out came, and the soldiers began to gather their gear, preparing to resume their march to the front lines.

“Take care of yourself, Suguru.”

“And you, Satoru,” Suguru replied, his expression softening for just a moment. “We’ll see each other again. We have to.”

As the two companies parted ways, Satoru glanced back one last time, watching as Suguru’s figure grew smaller and smaller in the distance. He slipped the photograph back into his pocket, his fingers lingering on it for just a moment too long.

December 1, 1917

The trenches were a whole other world themselves. They were a labyrinth of mud, blood, and despair that stretched across the landscape like a festering wound. Satoru had been there for weeks now, but time had lost all meaning. Day and night blurred together into an endless cycle of fear and exhaustion. The air was thick with the stench of death and decay, a sickly smell that clung to everything, seeping into the very pores of his skin. 

Satoru had never imagined that war could be like this. He had heard stories, of course—everyone had—but nothing could have prepared him for the reality of life in the trenches. The constant threat of death, the gnawing hunger—it was a living nightmare, a hell on earth from which there was no escape.

He had lost count of how many men had fallen, their bodies left to rot in the no man's land between the trenches. Friends, comrades, men he had shared laughs and meals with—they were all gone now, their lives snuffed out in an instant by a stray bullet or a well-placed shell. And with each death, a piece of Satoru died with them, his heart growing harder, his soul more numb.

At first, he tried to keep up the letters, pouring his thoughts and fears into the carefully penned words he sent back to you. He had written about the camaraderie among the men, the small moments of joy they found amid the horror, and the hope that one day, this war would end and they would be together again. He had clung to that hope, letting it buoy him up when the darkness threatened to swallow him whole.

But as the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, the words had become harder and harder to find. What could he possibly say to her now, after all he had seen, after all he had done? How could he put into words the horrors that haunted his every waking moment, the nightmares that chased him even in the few moments of sleep he managed to get?

He had started a dozen letters, each one more difficult than the last. He would sit in the dim light of the trench, his hands trembling as he tried to hold the pen steady, the paper before him smudged with dirt and blood. But the words wouldn’t come. Every time he tried to write, the memories would flood back—images of shattered bodies, of men screaming in pain, of the deafening roar of the guns that never seemed to stop. And then he would see your face, smiling up at him from the photograph he kept tucked inside his jacket, and the guilt would crash over him like a wave, drowning him in its icy grip.

How could he write to her about any of this? How could he tell her about the nightmares that kept him awake at night, the fear that gnawed at his insides like a rabid dog? How could he explain that he wasn’t the same man who had left her behind all those months ago, that the war had changed him in ways he could never have imagined?

Satoru had never felt so alone.

The men around him were suffering just as he was, but there was a wall between them now, an invisible barrier that kept him apart from the others. They still laughed, still shared stories and jokes to pass the time, but Satoru found himself withdrawing more and more, retreating into the silence of his own mind. He couldn’t bring himself to join in their conversations, couldn’t find the strength to pretend that everything was okay when nothing was okay.

It was during one of these quiet moments, when the guns had fallen that Satoru found himself staring at the photograph again. He traced the outline of your face with his thumb, the edges of the picture worn and frayed from being handled so often. You looked so happy, so full of life—everything that he wasn’t anymore. He wondered if she would even recognize him when this was all over if he ever made it out of this hell alive.

The thought made his chest tighten, a sharp pain stabbing through his heart. What if he didn’t make it back? What if this was where his story ended, in a cold, muddy trench on the other side of the world? Would she remember him as the man he used to be, or would she forget him altogether, moving on with her life as if he had never existed?

He shoved the photograph back into his pocket, the thoughts too painful to bear. He needed to write to her, to tell her how much he loved her, how much he missed her, but the words refused to come. The pen felt heavy in his hand, the paper staring back at him like an accusation.

The sound of footsteps approaching pulled him from his thoughts, and he looked up to see one of the other soldiers, a young man named Thomas, standing over him. Thomas had joined their company a few weeks ago, fresh-faced and full of energy, but the war had already taken its toll on him. His eyes were sunken, his cheeks hollow, and there was a haunted look in his gaze that Satoru recognized all too well.

“Hey,” Thomas said, his voice rough from disuse. “You alright, Satoru?”

Satoru nodded, though he didn’t trust himself to speak. He knew that if he opened his mouth, the words that would spill out would be anything but alright.

Thomas glanced down at the paper in Satoru’s lap, the empty lines stark against the dirty page. “Having trouble writing?”

Satoru sighed, running a hand through his tangled hair. “Yeah,” he admitted. “I don’t know what to say anymore.”

“It’s hard,” he said quietly. “Hard to find the words when everything around you is…” He trailed off, gesturing vaguely at the trench, at the world beyond it. “But maybe it doesn’t have to be about all this,” he continued after a moment. “Maybe just…tell her you miss her. Tell her you’re thinking about her. Sometimes, that’s enough.”

“I don’t know if I can,” Satoru whispered.

Thomas crouched down beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You can,” he said firmly. “You have to. For her. For you.”

He knew Thomas was right—he had to find the strength to write to her, to keep that connection alive, no matter how difficult it was. Because if he lost that, if he let the war take that from him too, there would be nothing left.

With a deep breath, Satoru picked up the pen again, his hand still trembling. He stared at the blank page for a long moment, his thoughts a jumble of emotions and memories, before finally, the words began to flow.

They weren’t perfect, and they certainly didn’t capture everything he was feeling, but they were honest. He wrote about how much he missed her, how he thought of her every day, and how the memory of her smile was the only thing keeping him sane. He told her about the men he was serving with, about the small moments of kindness and he told her that no matter how dark things got, he would find his way back to her.

By the time he finished, his hand was aching, and the paper was smudged with dirt and sweat, but the weight on his chest had lifted just a little. It wasn’t much, but it was enough.

The war had taken so much from him, had stripped him of his innocence, his peace of mind, and so many of the men he had called friends. But it hadn’t taken her. Not yet.

And as long as he had her, as long as there was still a chance that he could hold her in his arms again, he would keep fighting. He would keep going, one day at a time, one step at a time, until this nightmare was over.

Because he had to believe that there was still a future out there, a future where the two of them could be together, away from the mud and the blood and the death. A future where they could build the life they had dreamed of, where he could make good on all the promises he had whispered to her in the dark.

Satoru clutched the letter to his chest for a moment, closing his eyes and letting himself imagine that future—a small house, a warm fire, your laughter filling the air. It was a dream, maybe a foolish one, but it was all he had left to hold on to.

When he finally opened his eyes, the trench seemed a little less dark, the air a little less suffocating. And for the first time in what felt like forever, Satoru allowed himself to believe that he would make it through this, that he would survive this war and return to the woman he loved.

December 25, 1917

My Dearest Satoru,

Merry Christmas, my love. I wish I could say that it feels like the holiday season here, but without you by my side, it all seems so different. The tree in the living room is smaller this year, just a simple little thing I picked up from the market. I decorated it with the old ornaments we’ve collected over the years, though they don’t shine as brightly without you here to admire them.

Charlie and I spent the day together. He’s grown so much since you last saw him, you wouldn’t believe it! He still waits by the door every evening, his ears perked up like he’s expecting you to walk through any moment. I think he misses you almost as much as I do. We went for a long walk this morning, just the two of us. The air was crisp and cold, and there was a light dusting of snow on the ground. It reminded me of the first Christmas we spent together when you insisted on making snow angels and pulling me into that ridiculous snowball fight. I laughed so hard that day, and I haven’t laughed quite the same way since you left.

I cooked a small dinner tonight—nothing fancy, just some of your favorite dishes. I set a place for you at the table, even though I knew you wouldn’t be there to fill it. I like to think that, wherever you are, you can feel the warmth of home and know that you’re always in my thoughts. The house is quiet now, almost too quiet. I find myself talking to you sometimes, as if you were still here with me, sitting in your favorite chair with that mischievous smile of yours. I can almost hear your voice, teasing me, comforting me, telling me that everything will be alright.

But it’s hard, Satoru. It’s so hard being here without you, especially on days like this when the world seems so full of love and joy, and all I can think about is how much I miss you. I try to be strong, for you, for us, but there are moments when the loneliness is overwhelming. I lie awake at night, staring at the ceiling, wondering where you are if you’re safe if you’re thinking of me as much as I’m thinking of you.

I know I shouldn’t burden you with my worries, especially when you’re facing so much over there. But I promised you that I would always be honest with you, and the truth is my love, I miss you more than words can say. I miss your laughter, your touch, the way you would pull me close when the world felt too big and frightening. I miss the sound of your voice, the warmth of your arms around me, the simple comfort of knowing that you were near.

I don’t know what this Christmas is like for you, if you’ve had a moment of peace, or if the war continues to rage on, even on this holy day. But I want you to know that I’m here, waiting for you, loving you with all my heart.

Until that day comes, I’ll hold on to the memories we’ve made, and I’ll keep you in my heart, always. I’ll keep sending you my love, in every letter, in every thought, in every prayer. And I’ll be here, waiting for the day when you come home to me.

Merry Christmas, Satoru. I love you more than words could ever express.

Yours always and forever,

Y/N

January 1918

The flickering light of the oil lamp cast shadows on the rough, earthen walls of the trench as Satoru unfolded the letter with trembling hands. The cold bit at his fingers, but the warmth of her words was all he felt. He leaned back against the wooden planks, his breath visible in the frigid air, and began to re

He could almost see her, sitting by the small tree, Charlie at her feet, the house filled with the scent of pine and home-cooked food. The image was so vivid that he could hear the crackle of the fire, feel the softness of your hand in his, and taste the warmth of the cocoa you always made too sweet.

When he finished the letter, he folded it carefully, placing it back into the envelope before tucking it into his jacket, close to his heart. He closed his eyes and rested his head against the wall, trying to hold on to the image of her, of home, for just a little longer.

"Someday," he whispered to himself, "I’ll go back to you."

But that "someday" felt so far away.

Satoru was exhausted. He was so exhausted. And despite the cold and the ever-present danger, Satoru found himself drifting off to sleep. He dreamed of you and Charlie, of a small house and a garden, a real one, and maybe a little one.

But that dream was shattered all too quickly.

The ground shook violently, and Satoru was yanked from his sleep by the deafening roar of artillery fire. The once-peaceful night had erupted into chaos. He scrambled to his feet, the world around him a blur of noise and confusion. Mud and debris rained down as shells exploded nearby, turning the trench into a hellscape of smoke and fire.

"Satoru! Get up!" A voice yelled from somewhere in the darkness, but it was nearly drowned out by the barrage.

His heart raced as he grabbed his rifle, instincts taking over. The letter, the warmth of her words, the image of her waiting for him—all of it was shoved to the back of his mind as survival became his only focus. He could barely see through the smoke, but he knew what was coming.

"Over the top! They’re coming!"

Satoru fought desperately alongside his comrades. The world had become a blur of smoke, fire, and the metallic scent of blood. He barely felt the cold anymore—only the burning need to survive, to push through the horror and get back to the life he had left behind.

But even as he fired his rifle, the enemy pushing ever closer, a gnawing fear settled deep in his chest. It wasn’t the fear of dying, though that was always there, lurking beneath the surface. It was the fear of breaking his promise to her, of never seeing her again, never holding her in his arms, never telling her one last time how much he loved her.

Suddenly, a blinding light flashed to his right—a mortar shell exploding far too close. The force of it threw him to the ground, his head slamming against the hard earth. Everything went dark for a moment, and when he opened his eyes, the world was spinning. He could barely hear over the ringing in his ears, his vision blurry as he struggled to push himself up.

But before he could regain his bearings, he felt a sharp pain in his side, followed by a searing heat that spread across his body. He looked down, his hand coming away sticky with blood. Panic surged through him as he realized the wound was deep, too deep.

"Satoru!" someone shouted, but it felt distant as if it were coming from another world.

He tried to move, tried to fight, but his body wouldn’t respond. His strength was draining away, the edges of his vision darkening as the pain grew overwhelming. He reached for the photo in his pocket, fumbling with weak fingers until he could pull it out. The edges were crumpled, dirtied from being carried with him through every battle, but her face was still there, smiling up at him.

"I’m sorry baby…" he whispered, his voice barely audible over the sounds of battle. He wasn’t sure if the words were meant for her or himself, but they were all he could manage.

As he lay there, the sounds of war fading into the background, another soldier—a younger man from his company—dropped to his knees beside Satoru. The man was injured, blood seeping from a wound in his leg, but his focus was entirely on Satoru.

"No… no, no, no," the soldier muttered, his voice choked with panic. He saw the wound, saw the blood, and knew there was nothing he could do. "Satoru, stay with me, please!"

Satoru’s grip on the photo loosened, and the young soldier gently took it from him, his hands shaking. He saw the woman in the picture, the one Satoru had talked about so often, and his heart sank. "Is… is this her?"

Satoru nodded weakly, the effort taking everything he had left. He tried to speak, to say her name, to tell the soldier to take care of her, but the words wouldn’t come. His chest felt tight, every breath a struggle.

"Don’t worry, I’ll… I’ll make sure she knows," the soldier promised, though his voice cracked with the weight of it. He fumbled with Satoru’s jacket, pulling out the dog tags, and pressed them into his own pocket, along with the photo. "I’ll tell her… everything."

Satoru’s vision darkened further, the world slipping away from him. All he could see was her face, all he could think about was the future they had dreamed of. But that future was fading, slipping through his fingers like sand.

"I’m sorry," he whispered one last time before the darkness took him completely.

Weeks passed, though they felt like an eternity. The war continued on, but Satoru’s company was eventually pulled back from the front lines, many of them injured, exhausted, or worse. The young soldier who had taken Satoru’s photo was among those who were discharged, his leg injury severe enough to send him home. But the physical pain was nothing compared to the weight he carried in his heart.

When the company finally reached the docks, it was a scene of bittersweet reunions. Families and loved ones gathered, waiting anxiously for a glimpse of their soldiers. You were among them, your heart pounding in your chest as you scanned the crowd, searching desperately for Satoru’s familiar face.

But you couldn’t find him.

The minutes dragged on, and panic began to set in. Where was he? Had something happened? You tried to reassure yourself, telling yourself that he would appear any moment, that he was just delayed, that everything was fine.

Then you saw a man hobbling toward you on crutches, his face pale and drawn. You recongnized the man as in the letters Satoru had described him as a friend, a comrade. But where was Satoru? Why wasn’t he with him?

Your breath caught in your throat as the soldier stopped in front of you, his eyes filled with a sorrow that made your blood run cold. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the crumpled photograph, the one you had given to Satoru before he left. And then, with trembling hands, he held out Satoru’s dog tags.

"I’m so sorry," the soldier said, his voice barely more than a whisper. "He… he didn’t make it."

The world around you seemed to crumble, the ground shifting beneath your feet as the words sank in. You stared at the photo, and the dog tags, unable to comprehend what he was saying. It couldn’t be true. Satoru had promised you. He had promised he would come back.

"No…" The word fell from your lips, your voice breaking as tears welled up in your eyes. "No, he… he promised…"

The soldier reached out, placing a hand on your shoulder, but the gesture did nothing to comfort you. "He loved you so much," he said softly, his own eyes filling with tears. "He… he talked about you all the time. Right up until…"

You didn’t let him finish. The pain in your chest was too much to bear, and the sobs broke free, your body shaking as you clutched the photograph to your chest. The world around you blurred, the sounds of the docks fading away as all you could think about was him—his smile, his laugh, the way he had held you that last night before he left.

He was gone. Satoru was gone.

The soldier stayed with you, his own heart breaking as he watched you fall to your knees, your cries of grief echoing through the crowd. But there was nothing he could do, nothing anyone could do to ease the pain of your loss.

And so the war took one more life, one more love story cut short by the horrors of battle. The future you had dreamed of, the life you had planned, was gone—lost in the mud and blood of a distant country.

All that remained were memories and the cold, hard reality that he would never come home to you.

© satorulovebot 2024 please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my work.

[sebbianas]

Dear RAB,

Sirius just left home and runaway to the Potters. At first we were mad, we destroyed his room for a bit but when we calmed down and saw pictures of him with his friends family we realized we were never able to make him smile or laugh like that. We were an extension of the darkness that pulled him down, to save him we needed to let him go. No matter how hard that must be for us.

He’ll be happy and someday we’ll learn to be happy as well.

It’s late and I’m writing this letter because its the only letter that seems to calm me. I’ve written and trashed every letter to Pandora, Evan, Dorcas, and even Barty, I couldn’t seem to find the words to tell them, to make them understand. So, I’m writing this to you, years from now I hope you’ll find this letter and truly understand how hopeless and miserable I feel. I pray you don’t feel the same still.

It makes me wonder, how are things now? How are you? Are you happy? Are you safe? Are you alive? I don’t really feel like being alive right now. I need to know if its still worth it.

I’m holding out, I’m not giving up. So when you see this, when things are better, greater, happier for you, you’ll remember to thank me.

Hoping for better things,

15 year old RAB

Regulus hurriedly wiped the tears that was freely flowing on his cheeks, he’s not sure if he’s crying for 15 year old Regulus or crying over how dramatic he was at that age.

“Everything okay, love?” James called out. Regulus turned his head and found the love of his life standing by the door, face softened with concern. Concern rooted in love and affection Regulus never thought he’ll get.

Regulus sniffed and smiled, “Everything is great, James. I have a great life.”

Thank you for not giving up, 15 year old Regulus.

[storm-angel989]

I thought of another cute request! Val’s wife and the other vees reactions to Val having a migraine and still trying to go to work

Hi Friend,

Love this request! Think OTO Val’s wife and storyline. We’ll call this OTO fluff. 

<3 Mandy

I wonder if my wife knows that the lights make noise?

A sharp hum, a buzz most can tune out- myself included, most days. Unfortunately, as I laid in bed the sharp pangs pulsing through my brain made it more than clear today wasn’t one of those days. 

I shut my eyes tighter and tried to review the days schedule in between pangs of pain. Two new models, six contracts, four shoots and Angel Dust…Angel Dust was owed his dues. Even if my saint of a wife tried to take my place in the studio for the day, as she had done successfully in the past, she couldn’t. This was my contract, and I needed to fulfill the terms personally. 

I heard the shower turn off and tried to hide the pain as I forced myself to sit up. Five minutes. I had five minutes at most to pull myself together before she walked out of that bathroom, took one look at my face and the back to beg argument would begin. I had to divert the best I could. 

Painstakingly, I pulled myself out of bed and slid on my glasses. I quickly grabbed my clothes from where she had laid my outfit out the night before and dressed as quickly as I could. I made my way over to the bathroom door. Three sharp, painful knocks before I spoke.  

“Baby? There is an emergency in the studio.  I have to go right to work. I’m sorry, mi amore. Breakfast will have to wait.”

Without waiting for a response, I hustled out the door and made my way down to my studio. As with every other due date, Angel Dust was sprawled out on the stage, eager to receive payment. 

“Aw, Daddy,” he purred as I stepped onto the platform. His arms wrapped around my neck. “What do you say we have a little fun this time, eah?”

I tensed up. Ignoring the aching in my head, I pushed him onto the bed in one fell swoop.

“Oh yes, Daddy,” he moaned greedily. “I’ve been a naughty, naughty boy, I…”

“Shut. Up.” I growled as I pressed my lips to the base of his throat. “Your contract doesn’t say a fucking thing about you enjoying the process.” 

Three minutes later I stood up and strode across the stage,  leaving Angel behind in a haze of high and pain. I didn’t like what our contract demanded, but we were bound by it either way. At least I could abate my anger by making sure the drugs came with a miz of pain and pleasure. My hope was that someday, somehow the pain would overtake the pleasure and he would beg for an out. 

As if I would be so lucky.

I slammed the door of my office shut, hit the light switch and in the dark, barely made it to the garbage can beside my desk before emptying my stomach of its contents. The act of payment started making me nauseous the day I met my reader, but combined with the pulsing pain in my head, it was unbearable. Gone was the thought of making it through the day- hell, I wasn’t sure I’d make it back upstairs. I picked up my phone and squinting, I hit the speed dial for my Vox. 

“Vox, I’m..fuck, can you grab my migraine medication from the nurse and bring it to my office?” 

The buzz of a dial tone was his only response. I put my head down on my desk and in minutes, the door creaked open, letting in a silver of light. I let out a groan and covered my closed eyes with my free hand. 

“I find it incredibly ironic that a moth demons gets migraines, arn’t you supposed to be attracted to light?” Vox’s voice floated through the darkness.

“Quit teasing him,” another voice snapped. “Val, love, cover your eyes.” 

I held back a groan. “Vox, I called you. Honey, you need to be…”

“Checking up on my husband, who clearly can’t take care of himself,” Reader said softly,  

I felt her hand against his forehead, and her cool hand  slipped under mine and over eyes. Inadvertently, I leaned into the comfort her palm offered and let out a soft moan of relief. 

“Vox is gonna turn the light on. You’re going to slowly open your eyes, stand up and we’ll get you upstairs,” Reader continued. 

“I need my…” I began. 

“The studio is empty and Vox has your medication. Now shut up and do what I say,” she interrupted sharply. 

I heard Vox chuckle and I closed my eyes as tightly as I could.  Even under the protection of my wife’s hand, the light that slipped through stung my head like a thousand yellowjackets. 

“She’s pretty feisty when she wants to be, eah, Val? Lights on.” Vox said lightly. “Come on, let’s get you to bed.” 

I barely remembered making it back to my bedroom. The sharp pinch of an IV needle, an ice pack and several hours later, the pounding slowly began to fade. Softly, I mentioned to my wife the relief I finally felt. 

“You’re a fool for going into work today, you hear me? A fool. Even my father, the toughest of the commanding angels….” 

I leaned up and cut her off with a kiss. She stopped scolding instantly and leaned into me. 

“Bebita. I love you,” I said softly.

She rolled her eyes but kissed my forehead. “I love your stubborn ass too. Next time, make a better decision.”

[salty-croissants]

Could you write headcanons fluffy/romantic of rayman or Ramon please and thank you

Thank you so much for the request , it’s actually my first one :D

Hope this turned out well ! 

I ended up splitting up the headcanons given how different both personalities are , hope that’s okay ! 

Details : use of gender neutral reader ; 

established relationships ; 

some swear words are present in Ramon’s part , but other than that no warnings are needed

Rayman 🧡

Given the fact that Rayman has felt incredibly lonely pretty much his whole life , as soon as you showed him genuine kindness and interest in him without focusing on his fame he immediately took a liking to you : 

despite his seemingly very smooth demeanor , he was actually very nervous about confessing his eventual feelings for you , terrified of being rejected yet again … 

But that wasn’t the case , and let me tell you , Rayman will forever treasure the moment you told him those 4 words he was so afraid of never hearing from anyone in his life . 

He wants to know everything you like , and by everything I mean absolutely everything : 

Rayman loves to listen to you gushing about your passions and hobbies , and if you ever need something specific you will find it on your desk with an almost unnatural quickness …

< Wh - are those the acrylics I mentioned just a few minutes ago ? > 

< They sure are ! I also made sure to get you all the colors I could get my hands on , now you’ll have no trouble finishing your piece . > 

 < Ray , thank you so much ! You shouldn’t have … > 

< Anything for you , honey ~ > 

Whenever the two of you go out on a date , Rayman definitely doesn’t waste the opportunity to bring you to the most amazing ( and low key expensive ) places in the city , and this especially happened during your first dates : he really , really wanted to leave a good impression on you , though if you tell him that you’d rather spend time with him in a more quiet place he definitely won’t be unhappy to hang out either at his lounge or at your place … 

He wants you to be comfortable with him at all times .

I like to think that Rayman loves to receive kisses on his nose : whenever you walk by him and surprise him with one , this man will positively melt … 

You will definitely earn a cuddling session for when he’s done with his shows . 

He loves to hold your hand whenever you go outside , also as a way to show everyone around that this lovely person is with him , JUST him .

Some might see this as a bit excessive , but regardless of how long you two have been together Rayman is deep down still worried that he might not be good enough and that you might leave him someday , so if you reassure him on this you will definitely make him happy …

< You know I won’t ever leave you , right Ray ? You’re the only one for me , this won’t ever change . > 

< Heh … I know y/n … thank you . > 

Ramon 🖤

Now that he knows that he’s been used by Eden all these years , Ramon’s once cheerful demeanor has definitely changed a lot … but his love for you didn’t : 

the fact that you’re choosing to stay by his side despite the dangers that you two might have to face just makes his adoration for you grow even more , and he wants to make sure that no one will dare to hurt his sweetheart .

He might need to be comforted more often … 

Ramon feels horrible about letting all those terrible things Eden did just slip by him , so when the guilt becomes too much he just walks over to you and buries his face in your chest , your genuinely loving words and the sound of your heartbeat giving him a peace that nothing else is able to make him feel .

< You couldn’t have known , love … if Eden tricked you , it’s not something you can blame yourself for . We’ll figure this out , I promise . > 

< … thank you y/n … I … really needed this . > 

< Don’t mention it , Ram . >

If you’re feeling cold , no matter how many degrees it is outside and how much you protest , Ramon will cover you up with his coat .

< Stop it ! It’s freezing out here , you can’t just - > 

< I can … and I will . > 

< Uh , I don’t think so ! 

Here , give me a second … 

There , we can just share it , no reason for you to be cold . > 

< I … 

Pfft … I love you so much y/n . > 

< I love you too , Ram ~ > 

If you ever do get actually hurt by someone ? 

Ohh boy , whoever did it is in trouble … 

Ramon is going to track them down no matter how long it takes , and you better believe he’ll blow so many holes in them that not even their corpse will be remotely recognizable .

< N-no ! PLEASE HAVE MERCY !!! > 

< Heh … should’ve thought about that before putting your hands on y/n , you FUCKING BASTARD ! > 

After he’s done with making the person resign from life , Ramon is going to immediately come back to you to stay by your side if you’ve been badly wounded , constantly apologizing for not being able to keep you safe and also telling you to never ever do something that dangerous again . 

Ramon loves you so much , he just doesn’t know what he’d do with himself if you were gone …

Ramon has grown to become even more physically affectionate than before , and whenever the two of you have are alone for a moment he will just hold you in his arms , giving you loving kisses while whispering sweet nothings in your ear , his deep voice rarely failing to make you blush …

< y/n , you’re so beautiful … I never want to lose you , you’re the one thing keeping me sane in this goddamn hellhole … you’re my everything … > 

He keeps this to himself , but the reason Ramon does this is also because he isn’t even sure if the two of you are going to survive your mission of getting rid of all the oppressors of hybrids in the city .

He wants his moments with you to be engraved in his memory , because if everything were to fall apart the next day he would at least remember his beloved before the end …

You’re his very own ray of hope , after all . 

[caxde]

Ok, today is my birthday I just woke up and thought it would be a good idea to finally ask for the drable of bright eyes that I thought of Eddie having a campaign with the boys and girls and also Y/N but Lua wakes up and see them so she wants to play too so Y/N sits her in their lap and let's her play with her.

I love your work and you are one of my favourite authors 💙💖💙

omg!! happy (late) birthday babe!! hope it was a good one <33 thank you so much for the request and for reading and for being here haha, hope i made it justice <33

bright eyes universe drabble (2.3k)

“What would even be my name?” You tell him, almost in a tired wimp, your head hurting slightly. 

“Princess the Bard” He teases back, his head tilting to the right, his hair shaking in that hypnotic matter he knew you liked. 

“If everybody keeps calling me princess, you’ll have to come up with a new nickname.” You point back, looking over your shoulder so you can see the way his eyes plead back, while he follows you to the kitchen. 

“I can try a few…” He tries once again, he lets his body rest against his kitchen counter, waits for you to place your empty plate down on the sink, the soft ‘clinck’ sound links with his fingers graceing your waist. He grabs you softly, taking his time to first caress that little spot, before one of his fingers finds his way in one of your belt loops, pushing you to him from there. “Just, please? I don’t want you to go yet, and the few ones we’ve played you’ve been amazing…”

With just the way your eyes softened, darkened and then closed he knew he had been successful. He was biting back that stupid grin that made you smile in defeat every time you saw it. 

“Ugh… fine…” He had it on his face as soon as you gave in. Maybe out of excitement, maybe because you were hugging him once again. 

“C’mon, we’ll set the table then.” He gleamed, you just tried to muffle a laugh against his chest, enjoying the way his arms wrapped around you. 

He grabbed your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours, he was the one that had a joyful cheerful aura now, excited that you’d stay longer, even better, playing with him. 

He had been talking about you finally joining him for a short, small one-shot campaign ever since he had caught you and Dustin going over the basics of the game. These last few days, though to be honest it had been two weeks, you and him had found a small window of time to be together, and you had spent it building your character, playing a few scenarios, making out before you left and painting. It had been fun, heavenly even, but you told him that it was because it was just the two of you, that you were a bit nervous about actually playing with his friends. He told you that they were just kids, but you made him remember that they were actually teenagers, which is a whole different situation, and that if you were to be their teacher someday, it would be weird. He laughed it off, brushed your hair out of your face and whispered “That’s kinnda hot” You punched him in his chest in a jokingly manner, but he reassured you, as he always did. 

You were nervously -perhaps a tint of anxiety on your movements could be seen- playing with the die on your hand. You sat down next to him, even if that spot was usually occupied with Dustin, he agreed to let you there, knowing just how excited Eddie was, and clocking your nervousness. 

“You guys ready to play some D&D?” Eddie asked, his hands moviming excitedly through the air. 

They all cheered. You looked at them, Mike was gleaming, Will was excitedly nodding, Lucas was drinking some soda, his mouth still smiling, and Dustin looked at you. He mouthed a you’re ready. 

That’s all you really needed for now. 

Consequently, Lua was having trouble remaining asleep. 

She was tossing and turning in her little bed, the quiet voices that left the living room seemed more appealing to her. She knew her dad had some friends over, and that she had to get some sleep, but she wanted to be near to him, and he wasn’t in his bed. 

So she did what every kid would have done. 

She got up, not minding her knotted hair, or the way her sleeping shirt was a bit too big on her. 

She tumbled around her room, opening the door that was left ajar as best as she could, trying to not make a sound. She kept walking following the sound of the warm voices that were gathered around the table. Her eyes finally opened up, and she smiled as soon as she saw you sitting next to her dad. 

She reached out, pulling your trousers down so you’d look at her. 

“Hi bud, what are you doing up?” You asked her, you reached down, she glowed as soon as he heard your voice, as bright and as soft as ever. 

“Can’t sleep.” She muttered, her hand scratching her eye, a little pout on her lips. 

You looked up at Eddie, and you saw the way his heart melted, and how he was starting to feel guilty about talking as loud as he had. 

“You wanna sit with me?” You asked her, opening your arms so she’ll decide on her own. 

You didn’t have to wait long. She threw herself on your arms, waiting for you to pull her up. You placed her down on your lap, your fingers gracing her hair, placing it a bit more neatly. Eddie’s heart was about to burst. 

The full table went quiet. 

They weren’t used to such an intimate moment of Eddie’s life. 

The little scene looked straight from a movie scene, a soft look shared between the both of you, while Lua just melted in your arms a bit more, pushing into you softly. 

“Can we continue?” Mike asked, the usual urgency in his voice remained the same. 

“Jesus.” Will whispered, the heels of his hands reaching for his forehead. 

“What?” 

“You really have the emotional range of a teaspoon sometimes, you know?” Lucas added, looking back at his friend, a look in his face that let you know this was something deeper than your little moment. 

“Okay, sorry.” Eddie muttered, a little smile to her little girl before he continued. “Your king has just experienced an assassination attempt, the guards have captured some suspects down in the dungeons. Princess, you said you wanted to do something?”  

Blood flew straight to her cheeks as soon as the attention was all on you. Lua decided to start playing with your fingers, as if she knew that doing that would help. 

“I have seen Sir.Deeptrut on the battleground, right?” Your eyebrows raised as you were talking, a confirmation on Eddie’s face let you know you were right. “And he’s one of the suspects… Could I go down to the dungeons and try to talk to him?” 

“You’ll have to make a persuasion check as soon as you get down there, just a heads up.” Will advised you. He had a calm voice, and was always trying to help. You could see just how much he cared, not only about the game, but about everyone that was sitting around the table. 

“Why?” You shook your head, your hair tickling Lua’s cheek, making her giggle. Eddie’s lips curved upwards, he felt himself falling in deeper and faster. 

“The guards.” Dustin pointed out, looking deep into you. “Unless you use disguise self, they’ll know it’s you, and they probably won’t let you pass. They just tried to uh…” He peered over at Lua, not really wanting to say that word, you just nodded. 

“I want them to know it’s me though…” You said back, the kids looked at you, each one of them with a weirder look on their face. “Trust me.” 

“You slowly walk down to the dungeons, and at first you realize the small amount of light that creeps in, even if it is a sunny day outside, it feels like midnight down here. The smell of dust and mould hits your nostrils quick. Before you can even move deeper in to find the one you want to talk to, a guard stops you.” Eddie describes it in a beautiful manner, his voice and tone pulling you in deeply, believing every single word, a picture fully painted. 

“I demand to speak with Sir.Deeptrut.” You say, in a loud focused voice, avoiding his eyes. 

“I’m sorry, your highness. Sir.Deeptrut was accused with an assassination attempt against your father, I would blame you if you came here to uh… finish the job but… I’m afraid I can’t let you in.” He changed his accent to an English one, it made you smile a bit more, discovering something you didn’t know Eddie was capable of doing. 

Lua looked up, shocked that her dad could sound like that, not understanding how, Eddie tried to hide his laugh with a little wave at her. 

“I just wanna talk to him… please?” You try again. 

“Give me a persuasion check.” Eddie used his menacing voice, the one that indicated an important decision. 

“Lua?” You asked her, her eyes looking up at you. “You wanna help me roll?” You opened your hand, letting her reach for one of the die. You looked as she grabbed it and threw it on the little wooden box Eddie had left you. “Good job bud!” You praised her as soon as you saw the 19 on the die. 

“Jesus, yeah, that’ll do.” Eddie said as soon as he saw the number. Lua chuckled when she saw how happy that had made the two of you. “Princess… He’s a dangerous man.” He used that accent again, the whole table waiting for what your plan is. 

“What’s your name?” You narrowed your eyes as you snapped back, your whole attitude changing. 

“I’m Liam your highness.”

“Great, so I’ll tell my father that a guard named Liam wouldn’t let me even talk to the man I’m betrothed to.” All of the table opened their mouths in amusement. 

“What?” Mike snapped, the first one to do so. 

“Betrothed?” Lucas panicked, given he was the one playing the king. 

“Just, trust me!” You repeat yourself, even if everyone was looking at you as if you were crazy. 

“He just steps back, with his hands in the air, giving you full access to Sir.Deeptrut” Eddie describes in pure amused shock at the chaos you were creating. 

“I walk in, and I’m gonna Disguise Self to turn into one of his um… friends?” You half ask as you stifle a laugh. “So he’ll think that me coming as princess was a trick to get in.” You keep explaining your plan. “And then I’ll just get down and try to like, act as if I’m trying to break him free. And say uh… There’s still time for me to finish this, tell me where you got the poison dagger and I’ll finish it myself.” 

The whole table felt silent, not really expecting you to do that. 

“Oh…God.” Eddie’s face got red, not sure if he found it hot because it had been you doing it, or because it was one hell of a play. “I uh… Shii-ut” He saved himself from cursing as soon as he saw Lua looking up at him with curious eyes. “That’ll be a deception check.” He adds, still bamboozled. 

“Lua, you wanna roll again?” You ask her, two dice this time were layed in the palm of your hand. “I’ve got advantage right?” 

“Why?” 

“Disguise Self, she’s got the actor feet.” Dustin explains in a sort of automotive tone, not really quite believing such a move had come out of you. 

“You do.” Eddie confirmed as he nodded, a sense of pride emanating from him. 

“C’mon Lua, you’ve got it.” You cheered her as she let the die hit the wooden box. “That’s so good dude!” You praised her once again, a soft kiss left on her cheek as her laughter could be heard. “That’ll be a 24.” 

“I… I don’t know where you can get another one, I just… If the primogen of the church got me one, I’m sure he can get you another one, but be wary, that family’s got something odd.” 

“You don’t say.” You add in a teasing tone, before raising your eyebrows again, a move that let Eddie know you were about to do something outlandish again. “I want to drop the disguise self and call for the guards. Explain to them how he just confessed and that they have to arrest the primogen.” 

“You… you do that.” Eddie finally breaks, as the whole table erupts in panicked laughter and shock that your outlandish plan had worked. “And you see how he just goes ballistic, his full body trying to free himself from the chains as he just yells nonsense in a repetitive manner as he realises just how much you have fooled him.” 

“I just wanna reach over to him, close enough to his ear and whisper to him uh… I hope your God hears you now.”

“You have to come play with us more often.” Will says in shock, while Mike just stays there next to him, in shock not really believing you actually did that. 

“Lua, you want to go to bed?” You weren’t paying that much attention to the table, nor why it was that impressive. You were more worried about Lua and her head falling as she started falling asleep. “I’ll take her to bed, I’ll come in a minute.” You tell everyone, but mostly Eddie. 

He watches you closely, the way your hands hold her with such a delicate manner, the care and sensibility you have in your movements. He reaches for your hand, right before you leave, his thumb caressing the back of your hand in an affectionate touch. You step in a bit closer to him, he stands up so he can leave a short kiss on his daughter’s forehead, right before whispering thank you, a fast kiss on your lips as his dimples appear on his cheeks.  He saw you walk into his room, and even if he was supposed to concentrate on the game, he could only think the same thing i never want to see her go.

[tsvwords]

A thin, winnowing trail of pilgrims, frail and small against the endless landscape, stumbling and tripping as we make our way higher and higher into the mountains.​

We look absurd and hopeless out here, in our stolen gas masks and suits, dragging sleds packed with stolen supplies. We keep getting smaller, and smaller. And soon we’ll be lost to you.

I’m there at the very back, the first to be left behind - because there’s something dark and hungry inside me that must not be allowed to live on beyond me.

If we get far enough, there’ll be a time when I get to watch them walk away. A time when the god that’s inside me tears an upwards path through organs, bone and skin, sinking its black roots into the poisoned ground.

It will hurt, when I become what I become. But my feet will be planted in the ground, and my face will be turned and smiling through broken teeth towards the ones who come after me.

For now we walk on together, tripping over one another, every footstep its own kind of failure. ​We walk on, with a rough and tarnished hope, and a tangled, ruined love. 

We hope that against all odds, we will find more than just another lonely ending in the darkness.

We hope that those who come after us will make it further than we could.

We hope you find the missives that have been left for you. We hope you can make sense of them. We hope you find them flawed, inadequate, yearning.

We hope someday you’ll find a way to follow us.

— Chapter 45: Of Love, And Gods' Defeat.

[dragongirl028]

Onyx Equinox: All Hope is NOT Lost!

So for those of you who don't know, Anna Lencioni (the wife of Onyx Equinox creator and Executive Producer, Sofia Alexander) has begun to regularly host live streams on Twitch every Tuesday and Thursday afternoon to chat with fans while animating segments of her upcoming Indie series Enceladus V. Who should walk in and join for a little while on the latest stream, but Sofia herself (shocker)!

Not just that, but the two divulged on some super juicy, super hopeful information regarding the future of Onyx Equinox, and, let me say, folks: All hope is NOT lost on this series! There's a chance we'll be getting more information, and possibly even more seasons, in MUCH due time. Here's every detail I noted down from the stream relating to the future of Onyx Equinox (SPOILER WARNING (duh)!!!):

• Sofia wanted to explore K’in in a more nuanced way in season 2; he was going to have a lot of growth in that season, since he finds out Yun never wanted to be an ulama player, and was pressured into it by his twin brother • “I think you should come onto my stream and tell everyone what would’ve happened in season 2… we gotta schedule that one… we might have to do an English and Spanish simulcast.” - Anna • Ship-hinting/queer characters/more LGBTQ+ representation in Onyx Equinox: Yes, yes, and yes. More info will be given in the exposition stream • Gustavo “would probably work for free” on future seasons • “Crunchyroll doesn’t give a SINGLE fuck.” High Guardian Spice's OST was released, and Crunchyroll didn’t care about that • Gustavo technically owns Onyx Equinox’s OST, he’ll likely be the one to release it, once he’s less busy

• If properly finished, Onyx Equinox would have three seasons AND a movie; the movie would be pretty much an origin story, focusing on Tezcatlipoca and Quetzalcoatl vs. Cipactli • Crunchyroll DID ask Sofia to write a season 2, but then the merger with Sony happened, and, well, we know what happened from there... • Coyolxāuhqui was going to be in season 2 as a “major fan” of Mictecacihuatl, and [Micteca] was going to be on “the good side… one of the heroes, so-to-speak.” • “There is a contract. I think Sofi has rights [to Onyx Equinox] in her version, but we haven’t explored it yet, and I think we need to.” • “I have become a little bit selfish about sharing more [about Onyx Equinox and the characters], because I feel like the industry already sucked me dry… eventually, I’ll be healed enough to say ‘Yeah, let’s give it another try, and fight for this.’ I feel that if Onyx is meant to be told, it’ll be told, even if it takes a little bit.” - Sofia • Final words of the stream: “We’ll keep you updated on the Onyx Equinox exposition stream!”

So, yes! As Miracle Max from The Princess Bride has said, Onyx Equinox is "only mostly dead". Will we need to wait while for more information and content? Absolutely. Will it be worth it? AB-SO-LUTE-LY! The Gods have heard us, folks! Onyx Equinox someday, will be back!

[warden-melli]

I remember how excited I was for X and Y to come out. I’d dreamed of a 3d pokemon game for as long as I could remember, and the hype leading up to those games being released was some of the best of any pokemon game ever. Fairy type, sylveon, character customisation and we all got to play it together for the first time. My favourite Pokémon of all time, Mewtwo, got TWO new forms via the most exciting feature I’d seen a Pokémon game add at that point, mega evolution! I couldn’t have been more excited

I saved for months and bought my 3ds (which I still have and use to this day. It’s pink a colour chosen specifically to be Sylveon themed) and went to the midnight launch. I picked my starter (A chespin I named Rook. Yes, I still have him too) and set off. X and Y was the game that got me into shiny hunting (chain fishing and the friend safari lol), and the meta. It was the first game I ever found pokerus, and it was so much fun relearning Pokémon types after the fairy shake up. Pokemon amie, the ghost girl, and whatever Sycamore and Lysandre had going on, I loved these games so much. They were even the first Pokemon games I got to use my new name in after coming out.

I played the game together with my friend, and as embarrassing as it is I actually cried at the end when Az was reunited with Floette. I remember feeling so overwhelmed (in a good way) during the end credits. I swear I’m the only pokemon fan who was glad that they never distributed Az’s Floette (even though it was found in the code) because I couldn’t stand the thought of the two being separated again

Tbh I even wonder if I’d have gotten so attached to Melli if not for X an Y and my fondness for Az. When I first saw him Melli’s hair reminded me a bit of Az’s, and with his height and flower theme I couldn’t help but think of Az more, and then I just kept finding more connections between the two. I may never have really paid much attention to him if not for Az, and that’s so funny to think about

I always felt like X and Y’s story wasn’t finished, and for years I’ve hoped they’d someday finish or expand on its story. There was so much left unexplained (ghost girl, letter, Zygarde) and I’ve spent a ton of time thinking about it over the years. I really hope that some of these questions finally get answers, and that just maybe we’ll get to spend some more time with King Az again. Up until now I thought it was me reaching or wishful thinking, but Kalos legends is real and it’s really happening and I’m so excited I haven’t stopped shaking since the announcement

[wordsonamission]

hi! can I request Icemav 7 of 14 for the kiss prompts please?

Thanks so much! Sorry for the delay, these ran away with me and got a lot longer than I had originally planned. I hope you like what I ended up writing!

7 – Forehead against forehead

Ice usually found these sorts of places vaguely claustrophobic. A bit rich, coming from someone who made a career out of living with thousands in a floating sardine can, but there was a difference between carrier living and the way that a club’s atmosphere affected every one of his senses. The throb of the music’s bass reverberated in his stomach, the strobing lights gave him a headache, and the endless crush of bodies touching and sweating and writhing together was sensory overload hell.

He retreated out to the patio. His fingers itched to reach for the pack of cigarettes that he no longer carried. A promise was a promise, and he couldn’t go back on a pinkie promise to someone as doe eyed as seven-year-old Bradley Bradshaw. The boy was right, it was a dangerous and disgusting habit, but Ice had always needed something to fiddle between his fingers and the nicotine took a nice edge off of situations like this. Thankfully there were only a couple of smokers on the patio to tempt him with the scent.

“Wolf said I’d find you out here.”

Ice rolled his eyes but didn’t turn. He hoped the night sky would hide the flush on his cheeks that bloomed every time Maverick tucked himself into Ice’s personal space so confidently.

“There’s a bit too much going on in there,” Ice admitted finally. “And it’s not like I want to watch Wolf and Wood go at it in public like that. They have no decency.”

Maverick snorted. “That’s fair. But they’re really happy.” Ice pretended not to hear the wistfulness in his tone.

 “Of all of us, I’m surprised that they’re the first to get out,” Ice said as Maverick stayed silent.

“Wood said he didn’t think he’d pass the sight test anymore.” Mav’s voice was down to nearly a whisper. “But while I guess that could be true, it’s gonna be a lot easier for both of them if they aren’t living with threat of dishonorable discharge dangling over their head every day.”

Ice wet his suddenly dry lips. Now he was the one scanning to make sure they weren’t being overheard. The four other people on the patio weren’t paying any attention, three were chatting with each other and the fourth was heading back inside. Still, his jaw ticked. “There’s always risk.”

“They can actually live together,” Maverick breathed, watching Ice’s face closely.

Ice squirmed under the attention, twisting his lips downward bitterly. “Just because they’re out of the military, that doesn’t mean they’re safe. You know that as well as I do.”

“Still,” Maverick shrugged, “it’s a chance.” He wet his lips, looking up at Ice through his lashes. “D’you think we’ll ever get a chance?”

Ice’s heart lurched. The words were right on the tip of his tongue – no, they wouldn’t ever get to live the way they wanted. Unless a lot of things changed about society, their love would always have to be a dirty little secret, the ticking time bomb that threatened their security and happiness. But Maverick was a dreamer and lived so fearlessly. He was more uncomfortable living a lie than he was afraid of the consequences of being caught. Ice envied his courage and didn’t have the strength to deny his hopes.

“I don’t know, Mav. Maybe someday.”

Pain flashed across Maverick’s face but he hid it well. He nodded to himself as much as to Ice, dropping his gaze to the concrete. He kicked at a couple of cigarette butts with the toe of his boot and hunched his shoulders as if he was suddenly cold.

Grumbling a curse, Ice stepped forward and grabbed Maverick’s elbow. Mav startled, off-balance, and looked up in shock. Ice knocked their foreheads together gently, lingering a bit too long as warmth seeped between their skin. The contact was as sweet as any kiss and carried just as much heady promise. Maverick inhaled on a shuddering breath and clutched at Ice’s sleeve to hold him close.

“I hope so,” Ice confessed, his voice raw and ragged. “God, I hope so.”

Ice bunted his jaw against Maverick’s temple before he stepped away. One last point of searing contact. If anyone had been watching them closely, they might have seen how Ice’s lips briefly connected with Maverick’s hairline. Or they might have seen how Maverick squeezed Ice’s arm before releasing his white-knuckle grip. But no one was paying attention, so they were safe for another day.

14 – Kissing under the stars

 The waves rushed in and out over the sand, their ebb and flow as predictable and soothing as a cat’s purr. Maverick lost himself to the sound and let himself float. Everything hurt, despite the painkillers he had been forced to take, lest he be forced to endure the wrath of Ice’s infamous Disappointed Eyebrow. The meds gave him a floaty head and slowed his reflexes in exchange for turning down the brightness of the agony along his spine.

The canvas beach lounger next to him creaked. Ice made as few concessions to his age as possible, but conceding that it was easier to stand up from an actual chair than directly from the sand was one of them. He retaliated by keeping one foot off of the lounger, his toes buried in the sand, as he turned the pages of his book.

“Light's going,” Maverick said into the comfortable quiet between them. The sunset was faded to its final orange and pink blush. He watched as the color danced across the water’s surface. Maybe the pills were stronger than he thought.

Ice hummed thoughtfully but didn’t look up. Maverick knew from experience that he could read with very little light. And no, that was not the reason for his glasses, though they’d had that argument before. Maverick didn’t want to hear about how white pages reflected light and knew that Ice wouldn’t bear any repeating of the electronic reader discussion, so he just laughed and watched the water glitter while listening to Ice’s steady breathing.

There had been a while when it didn’t seem like they’d get to have these quiet moments ever again. Cancer was a bitch, treatment for it was somehow worse, and Maverick couldn’t help but throw himself into dangerous situations just to feel some sort of control. But now Ice was firmly into remission and Maverick was home. He tried not to think about the fact that they would both be retired within the year. Ice had earned the rest and the proper send-off. It was Maverick who didn’t feel ready.

Time slipped away like the grains is sand that he carded between his fingers. The temperature dropped precipitously without the sun, reminding him that it was November. Even sunny San Diego conceded that it was best to spend a few months of the year with cooler weather. Maverick found the edge of coolness exhilarating, but the night air would make Ice cough.

Ice, in tune to Maverick’s moods as usual, sighed and put down his book. His face tipped up to the sky, watching as a few stars poked through the purply dark of the urban night sky.

 “Light pollution ruins the view,” Ice grumbled.

“We should spend some time at the hangar,” Maverick agreed. “You’d love the sky out there.”

Ice hummed again. Maverick laughed softly. Dragging a beach creature like Ice that far away from water always took some extra special coaxing.

Maverick pushed up off the sand and straddled Ice’s lap, pressing his sandy palms against Ice’s cheeks. Ice raised an eyebrow and smirked but didn’t complain. His hands rose automatically to Maverick’s hips, absently sneaking up under his shirt to press on bare skin.

 “Wanna head in?”

 Ice shook his head. “The view’s too pretty to leave yet,” he purred, smirk deepening as Maverick blushed. More than thirty years together and his flattery still went straight to Maverick’s heart.

“Surely you don’t mean this,” Maverick said, gesturing to his face. “I’ve been called out for being an old man more in the last couple of weeks than I’ve heard in the last couple of years. It’s starting to get to my head.”

“You’re not old, you’re experienced. Those hotshot children haven’t lived long enough to know the difference.”

Maverick grinned. “Look at you. Mr. Iceman, gone all soft and sweet.” He rubbed his sandy thumbs into Ice’s stubble, just to make him complain about the itch.

“Still incorrigible, I see,” Ice snorted. He seized the back of Maverick’s neck and drew him down to kiss. Maverick leaned into the embrace, relishing their easy give and take. Ice kissed confidently and touched Maverick in exactly the right way to have them both panting in no time.

“We’d better go in,” Maverick said regretfully, “or someone’s gonna complain.”

 “Who?” asked Ice, gesturing to the empty beach. “It’s just us.”

“It’s getting cold. And we have much more comfortable furniture in the house.”

 “That’s true.” Ice pretended to consider the options with all the gravity of his four-star status. “I suppose the suggestion has merit.”

The only warning Maverick got was a playful glimmer in Ice’s eyes before he pinched Maverick’s waist, making him squawk and fall off of Ice’s lap back into the sand.

“I can’t believe you actually did that!” Maverick complained, feigning displeasure. Ice just laughed, heaving himself out of the chair.

“The fastest way to get you moving is to give you the right motivation,” Ice deadpanned gravely. “Now come on, let’s take this discussion inside.”

Maverick leered and made a great show of snapping his beach towel against Ice’s butt in retaliation, even though he knew that the heavy put-upon sigh was going to be the only response he got. Sobering fast, his step faltered as he followed Ice up the beach with their stuff to the house.

Their house, where they shared the same bed every night. Friends visited them there openly and the address was listed on their Navy paperwork. It was no secret that they were in love and that they were married.  There were some benefits to the passage of time, and Maverick would take some aches and pains if it meant that he no longer had to hide how much he loved Ice.

[spicyclover]

Delilah | Part two

Summary: “ Hey there, Delilah                                                                                        I know times are gettin' hard                                                                                  But just believe me, girl                                                                                Someday I'll pay the bills with this guitar                                                                 We'll have it good                                                                                                We'll have the life we knew we would                                                                      My word is good “

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

Hope you’ll enjoy this part. Let me know in the comments section! 

I'm open to requests.

Thank you, and Enjoy! :)

Lots of love, xxx Spicy Clover

You kiss her head and close the door getting back to the living room. Paola returned to her apartment, and you sat by the door, wondering what to do. 

You’ve had an exhausting week. The lack of sleep and the anxiety of seeing him again is eating away at you. You have nightmares. Each time the same. You are in front of his house six years earlier, begging him to let you in. The rain is falling, and you are wet. Your tears mingle with the rain, and you’re exhausted from banging on his door. You end up collapsing on the ground, curling up on yourself. The dream keeps repeating itself, and you wake up with a start every time the door opens.

Your eyes widen, and you struggle to find your breath. You frantically search around you without knowing exactly what you are looking for. You are hot. The sheets are soaked with sweat, and you sigh by passing your hand on your face. It can’t last any longer. You look at the time on the dial on your bedside table and blow more, knowing it’s just four in the morning. “So much for your sleep.” You take your phone and look at the messages you received. Your mother sent you a mem of a cat, and you smile tenderly, noticing the resemblance with Cato. Speaking of which, he enters the room discreetly and rests at the edge of the bed. "Of course, he heard me." You look at him briefly before he turns to the door.

It is not possible, this cat. No matter what time he asks for food. You whisper it is not time, and he shakes his disgruntled tail. You keep watching the news and your networks. You follow the F1 closely and pass their story one after the other. The Spanish Grand Prix is fast approaching. Delilah always dreams of going there and seeing the cars in real life. You look at the time again, and already two hours are gone. You decide to get up and start the routine.

The hours go by, and the idea is always in your head. Why not go? There is no harm. What could happen? That you meet him, that he recognizes you, that he sees Delilah, that he ignores you and ignores her at the same time and that your daughter’s little heart is broken again... Out of the question! You are on the bus back, and your mind is lost in your contacts. You are in his name. You never managed to get his number off your phone or his nickname simultaneously. Your thumbs overlook his name without touching him. Your brain hesitates, but your body seems to want to decide for itself.

The bus stops suddenly, and you press the call button. Panic invades you, and you look at your phone with big eyes. You get it near your ear.

"Sorry, the number you’re trying to reach is no longer available."

He changed his number. Surprisingly, your heart is tightening. You’ve invaded with vomiting. He changed his number. That asshole changed his number. You know it’s not necessarily your fault, but you can’t help but think about it. He didn’t even send you a message to warn you. Tears come up, but you refuse to let them down. He doesn’t deserve your tears. He abandoned you. He... he broke your heart.

You put your keys in the lock and the ball in your belly. What are you going to do now? Delilah will never recover. She wanted you to contact him so she could see him at least once. You don’t want to break that hope in her. It’s so hard. Not having her father present for her is already so hard. Not having two signatures in her school notebook. Not being related to his father’s side. Not having him at her dance shows. Not having him for her birthdays.

You open the door with a heavy heart and a full head. Delilah sits quietly in the living room and draws. She is so wise. You thank Paola, and you sit next to her.

"Delilah, cariño, escúchame." You say, caressing her long hair. "Sé que realmente quieres conocer a tu padre y yo..." Delilah, baby, listen to me. I know you really want to meet your dad, and I..."

"¿Te pusiste en contacto con él?" She asks, starry eyes.  "¿Quiere verme? ¿Dijo qué? ¿Cuándo lo vemos?" She gets increasingly excited, and you feel bad breaking her dream. Did you contact him? He wants to see me? He said what? When do we see him?

You don’t know why or how. But the lie that came out of your mouth sealed your destiny.

"Sí, e incluso dijo que lo vamos a visitar en Madrid. Vamos a pasar algún tiempo con la abuela y el abuelo." You want to bang your head against a wall. Why couldn’t you admit to your daughter that her father didn’t warn you about his number change? It wasn’t hard to say you couldn’t get in touch with him, and he didn’t want to see her… Yes, and he even said we’ll visit him in Madrid. We’re going to spend some time with Grandma and Grandpa.

You got yourself in a mess.

The end of the month is here, and you get on the train to your parents' country house. You haven’t been there in five years and for good reason. Last time you were here, you were so pregnant with your daughter. Your mother begged you for weeks to come home and spend a few days trying to reconcile your relationship with your father, but he wouldn’t listen and went fishing all the time you were there.

You walked in the fields with your mother to try to get her out. You laughed when you saw Blanca in the distance. You quickly turned around to avoid her, and your mother followed you. You heard her call you, but you ignored her. Fortunately, your oversized coat hid your belly, and you could leave without further incident. You took a train ticket that night to avoid another incident, and you’re saying goodbye to your mother and hometown with big tears. A few days later, when you arrived in Fuengirola, you gave birth. You texted him to tell him she was born, but you never got an answer. So you didn’t insist, and you gave up.

The landscapes pass by, and you get to fall from the night in the small village. Delilah is asleep, and you take her off the train thanking the nice Samaritan who helped you get your bags out of the vehicle. You then found your mother waiting at the entrance of the station. She greets you with open arms and embraces tenderly the forehead of Delilah, who sleeps in your arms. You thank her kindly for taking your bags, and you head to the car. The headlights are on, and you’re surprised to see your dad sitting in the driver’s seat, but you don’t say anything. You don’t know how to react by getting closer to the car. He comes out and approaches you. No words are exchanged, but you know he forgave you. He hugs you and kisses your temple before he takes Delilah and puts her in the car seat.

The ride is quiet, and you end up falling asleep at the noise of the road. Two hours of the car are between the city center and the house. This dream-free sleep does you good, and you recover the energy that left you that last month. The vehicle is parked, and you wake up. Your eyes are looking at the garden where you spent all your childhood and the house that saw you grow up. Six years have passed. You cannot believe it. Delilah wakes up beside you, and you smile tenderly. The energy took her, and she began to admire everything around her. She greets her grandpa and grandmother warmly before running around the garden laughing. 

The first few days go well. Your parents get to know your daughter, and you gradually regain your strength. You’re happy to find your father. After so many years, you’re pleased to be able to hug him and watch your favourite show together again. You took a stroll through the city and its surroundings. Delilah got a nice bike, and your father has been teaching her to do it for a few days. You talk to your mother, and you miss your complicity.

You spend a lot of time biking and enjoying nature. It changes the urban landscapes that you’re used to seeing. Delilah is riding a pony for the first time and doesn’t want to let it go. She eats pony, laughs pony, plays pony, and wants a pony.

You regret that your mother had this idea, but seeing Delilah so happy does you good. Maybe she will forget her father...You spoke with your parents about Delilah’s desire to meet her dad. To be able to see him. You talked about your fears and the hard years you’ve been through alone. Your father feels guilty that he couldn’t put his ego aside so that you could stay close to them, but you reassure him that you don’t regret anything. Seeing your daughter smile daily is worth all the trouble in the world.

You’re talking about going to a Grand Prix to find him, but you don’t want to. You’re completely lost and don’t know what to do about it. You talk about a good part of the evening, and it’s only once the big clock in the living room announces midnight that your parents decide to go to bed. You just sit out in the open, taking advantage of the summer breeze to think better. It’s already mid-July. You can’t believe that time is moving so fast. You return to your room a few minutes later with a restless but relaxed mind.

The next day, you are at the village market, and you market the various vegetables and fruit you see at the best prices. Delilah smells each product and displays a satisfied head every time the smell is sweet. The traders laugh at her adorable face and even offer her fruit for free. Delilah walks through the different stands making her little game to get as many items as possible. You sneer tenderly with your mother when you notice your daughter’s ploy.

Watch her from the corner of your eye. Her little hat with strawberries strapped to her head helps you spot her in the crowd. She is at the honey stand. You thank the seller, who hands you your bag filled with good vegetables and turns around to find your daughter. You see her talking to a stranger. You frown as you approach. If there’s one thing you don’t want her to do, it’s talk to strangers.

“Delilah, come on. Let’s go. We’re done shopping for today.” She turns to you, and the stranger raises his head. Your heart misses a beat. It’s not possible. What’s he doing there. The eyes of the unknown also open.

~~

Let me know if you would like a part three in the comments!

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