#my heart is aching i just want them to grow old together so happy and still so in love ;-;

[blakeswritingimagines]

Dear Y/N

My dearest darling,

my heart flutters at the very thought of you. You are like a drug that has taken over my mind, body, and soul. I cannot stand to be apart from you, even for a moment. The very thought of you with someone else makes me want to vomit. You are mine, and mine alone. If I cannot have you, then no one can. I dream about you day and night, my darling. You are the last thing on my mind when I sleep, and you are the first thing I think of in the morning. The mere thought of you makes my heart skip a beat. I can't go a moment without thinking about you, and I dream of holding you in my arms forever.

Your smile is like the sun, my darling, and your laugh is like music to my ears. I would do anything, and I mean anything, to make you mine. I would kill for you, I would die for you, and I would sacrifice everything and everyone for you. I know I may seem obsessive, but I just can't help it. You are everything to me. You are like a drug to me, my love. I'm completely addicted to you. You have consumed my mind and body, and I'm powerless to resist you. I can't help but think about you all the time, everywhere I go. The thought of you with someone else drives me absolutely insane. I would do anything to keep you all to myself. You're mine. Your scent is intoxicating and addictive. I find myself wanting to be closer to you always just so I can smell the sweet perfume that I know belongs to you. I want to hold you close and bury my face in your hair, just to feel the way your body feels against mine.

I watch over you at all times, my precious darling. I know where you are at all times, and I keep a watchful eye on you. I would do anything for you, to keep you happy and safe. I would kill for you, my love. If anyone threatens your safety, just say the word and I will destroy them. My feelings for you are beyond intense. Every fiber of my being aches to be with you. I want to touch you, hold you, and make you mine. Your body is like a work of art, and I would do anything to possess you. I want to feel your skin against mine, and I want to know every inch of your body. I am obsessed with every little thing about you. I love the way you look, and the way you talk. I can tell when you're feeling even the slightest bit of sadness, and I want to fix it. I want to take all of your pain away. You are my everything. You are the air I breathe, the food I eat. You are my world, my darling.

I can't stand the thought of you with any other man. The very idea of it makes my blood boil. You are mine and mine alone, my darling. If anyone tries to take you away from me, I will not hesitate to put them six feet underground. I don't care who it is, no one will keep us apart. You are my obsession, my love, my everything. And I will stop at nothing to keep you by my side. I know everything about you, my darling. I know your fears, your desires, your dreams. I know every curve and freckle on your body. I know your favorite food, the music you listen to, the movies you watch. I know everything about you, and I love every part of what makes you who you are. I'm hopelessly obsessed with you, and I'd be lost without you. I think about what it would be like to spend the rest of my life with you. I picture us in a cozy apartment together, waking up next to you in bed every morning. I imagine us going on dates, watching movies, and cooking together. I imagine us growing old together, with grey hair and all, but every bit as in love as the first day we met. I can't imagine a life without you, my love, because you are my world.

I would give up everything for you, my love. My friends, my family, my life. You are the only thing that matters to me. If you were to ask me to jump off a cliff, I would do it without question, just to please you. You are the center of my universe, the sun that my world revolves around. I would do anything to make you happy, to see your beautiful smile. I'm always thinking about you, my love. My mind is constantly consumed by you, and there's nothing I can do to change it. I dream about our future together, how we'll live, where we'll go, when we'll get married. When I close my eyes, I see your face, your smile, your eyes. I hear your laugh, and I imagine myself holding you in my arms. You consume my every thought, my darling. I know it's unhealthy, my love, but I can't help myself. I'm addicted to you. Just the sound of your voice makes me shiver, and the sight of your face causes me to lose my breath. I ache to touch you, to hold you, to feel your skin against mine. You drive me absolutely insane, darling. And I love it.

I fantasize about you all the time, darling. I imagine what it would be like to be with you, to hold you in my arms, to feel your touch against my body. Just the thought of it drives me insane, and I ache with desire for you. My heart skips a beat just thinking about it. You are the only thing that matters in my world, darling. Everyone and everything else is meaningless without you. I am completely and utterly at your mercy, and I wouldn't want it any other way. I am completely and utterly devoted to you, and I'll do anything to make you happy. My entire purpose is to make you smile, to make you laugh, to make you feel loved. You are my world, my darling. I long for your touch, darling. I crave the feel of your skin, your hair, your lips. I long to feel your body against mine, to run my fingers through your hair, to kiss you until we're both dizzy. I dream about holding you in my arms, feeling your heart beat against mine. The sheer thought of you drives me insane, my love.

I can't concentrate on anything else, darling. You fill my thoughts, my dreams, my every moment. I find myself constantly checking my phone for your messages, and my heart leaps when I see your name pop up. I long for your attention, my love. Without you, I'm lost. You are my anchor, my guiding light, my everything. I need you, darling. I need to hear your voice, to hear you say my name. I need to see your smile, to feel your touch. I need you, as much as I need air to breathe, food to eat, and water to drink. I'm addicted to you, my darling. I need you like a drug, like a lifeline. Without you, I'm nothing. You are my reason for being, my purpose in life. Nothing else matters but you. You are my world, my darling. You are all I think about, all I dream about. I can't eat, I can't sleep, I can't concentrate on anything except you. I'm completely and utterly obsessed with you, my love. I can't get you out of my head, no matter how hard I try. You consume me, and I love it. I'm hopelessly devoted to you, my darling, and I'll do anything to make you happy.

In conclusion, my dearest darling, I am completely and utterly smitten by you. You are everything to me. I live for you, I breathe for you, I dream about you. You are my world, my purpose, my everything. Without you, I am lost. I am yours, body and soul. I love you more than words can say, and I hope that one day you'll feel the same for me.

Yours eternally, your devoted Jason.

[pininghermit]

Alucard with a Pregnant Reader

Pairing: Alucard x Fem Reader

Genre: Angst

AN: Feel free to sue me if you spot an grammatical error. College tuition is on me friends :))) (pls don't)

Part 2

"I am so scared," you whisper, your fingers tracing the curve of your taut belly. It's barely noticeable to anyone else, but you can feel the presence growing within you. The healer's words from this morning echo in your mind. Eight weeks. The child inside you is eight weeks old, a secret shared only by you and the kitchen walls.

The signs had been impossible to ignore – the missed period, the bouts of vertigo, the persistent waves of nausea, and that peculiar craving for grapes. Denial had no choice but to give way to the truth.

Your heart aches with uncertainty, but it's not just the unknown future that grips you; it's the thought of Alucard. The two of you hadn't discussed children before. It wasn't a topic that had ever found its way into your conversations. The idea of parenthood had never been part of your plans.

Alucard, with his scarred past and the haunting shadows that still lingered, was a picture of complexity. You knew he carried wounds that hadn't fully healed. The mere thought of this news, of this life growing within you, could be a cruel trigger. You stand in the hush of your kitchen, your voice timidly breaking the silence, as if testing the weight of your thoughts in the air. "I do not want to burden him or force him back into the memories he's barely managed to escape," you murmur to yourself, the words a fragile secret shared with the walls.

"I don't want to disrupt the fragile equilibrium we've found. I don't want to steal away the progress we've made together... but at the same time, I can't ignore this," your voice quivers, and a tear escapes your eye, tracing a glistening path down your cheek. The conflicting emotions swirl within you – the want for this unexpected life, this precious gift that belongs to you and Alucard, battles against your fears.

Shame and guilt intertwine with desperation, tugging at the corners of your conscience. Does your yearning for this child outweigh the love you hold for Alucard? How can you weigh one life against another, one desire against the fragile, hard-fought happiness you've found together?

So, on a stolen night when the moon hangs low in the sky and stars whisper amongst themselves tales of old, you lay next to Alucard. Moonlight trickles through the curtains, painting your surroundings in a gentle, silvery glow, creating a haven just for the two of you.

You lie beside Alucard, the sheets a soft cocoon around you both, and your head rests on your arm as you gaze at him. His fingers interlace with yours, tracing patterns on your palm, a touch that usually brings comfort but tonight, a tempest brews within you, hidden from his perceptive eyes.

Your fingers glide through his hair, each strand a cascade of silk between your touch. His head tilts into your caress, a gesture that conveys both ease and affection. "What is it?" His voice, like a whisper carried by the wind, brushes against your senses. The concern in his eyes pulls at your heartstrings. "You seem so distant, so burdened these past days," he observes, his gaze holding yours, unwavering and genuine. In that moment, words escape you, caught in the tangle of emotions that you've been wrestling with.

You take a steadying breath, your fingers never ceasing their gentle dance through his hair. "It's... just thoughts," you begin, your voice soft and tentative, "worries that have found a way to settle in my mind." His unwavering attention emboldens you to continue, "I've been trying to sort through them on my own."

His thumb brushes over your knuckles, a subtle reassurance that he's there, by your side. "You know you can tell me anything," he says, his tone a mixture of encouragement and gentle persistence. His genuine concern is a testament to the trust you both had built and it fills you with warmth even amidst the turmoil within.

With a sigh, you finally voice the storm that has been raging within you. "It's about... us, about the future," your words weave into the quiet of the night. "I... I've learned something that's left me torn." His patience anchors you, allowing the words to flow more freely.

You take a deep breath, your fingers entwining with his as you draw his hand closer. The closeness brings a soothing comfort as you shift nearer, your hand holding on to Adrian’s finds its resting place on your belly. His name, Adrian, escapes your lips like a whispered prayer, and then the confession tumbles forth, heavy with implications. "Adrian, I've discovered that... we're expecting a child."

Time seems to stand still as the words hang in the air, the weight of them etching a profound stillness between you. His eyes widen, a myriad of emotions flickering through their depths, unspoken words caught in his gaze. The universe seems to hold its breath, and in that suspended moment, you feel his fingers tighten around yours, his grip an anchor amidst the swirling sea of emotions.

Yet, the heartbeat of the universe quickens once more, and in the blink of an eye, he's at the door of your room. It's as if the warmth of his touch and the tenderness in his eyes have been replaced by a chilling breeze. His hand rests on the doorknob, the barrier between you both a tangible representation of the distance that has suddenly grown.

You're not one to be silenced by that distance. Your heart propels your words forward, a bridge you're determined to build across the expanse that has opened up between you. "I know that this was not planned," your voice carries across the room, each word infused with the weight of your emotions. "And I know that neither of us is prepared for this, for the path that has been placed before us."

The words tumble forth, the reservoir of your heart's yearnings finally breaking free. "This truth, Adrian, it's something we cannot ignore or deny. I won't force you into a role you're not ready for, and I won't ask you to become someone you're not. But..." Your voice trembles, the vulnerability stark in your admission. "I can't give up on this child. I can't turn away from this new life that's growing within me."

The days stretch on, a silent echo of the unanswered longing that fills your heart. One week turns into another, and before you know it, half a month has slipped through your fingers like sand. The cold reality settles over you like a shroud – Alucard's choice, unspoken yet glaringly obvious, has left you with a hollow ache.

Every corner of the castle seems to hold a memory, a whisper of the time when your paths were intertwined. But now, they are just that – memories. Your belongings, once scattered amidst the grandeur, now seem out of place, like fragments of a life that was meant to be but never was.

With each item you gather, with every trace of your presence that you erase, the weight of your new role bears down on you. The mother and the father – it's a title you never expected to hold alone, a responsibility thrust upon you by circumstances beyond your control.

It's a quiet determination that propels you forward, that steadies your trembling hands and dries the tears that threaten to fall. You assemble the remnants of your life, leaving behind a trail of an existence that was both vivid and fleeting.

The finality of it all is captured in the note you leave behind. The pen scratches against the paper, pouring out words that mirror the turmoil within your heart. You don't blame him, you don't accuse him – instead, you offer him a glimpse into your own battle-scarred emotions.

"Alucard,

Once, I held onto promises as unbreakable as the dawn, and believed the bonds we wove were unyielding against any tempest. Life, however, has a knack for steering us into uncharted territories, down alleys we could never foresee. I comprehend your decision, even if it rends at the very fabric of my being.

I can no longer evade the stark reality that lies before me, the weight of responsibilities now solely upon my shoulders. Our path has veered into unforeseen terrain, and I must summon the strength to navigate it in solitude. Our unborn child deserves nothing less.

Allow no shadows of blame to cloud your thoughts. I hold no such sentiment in my heart. It is my fervent wish that with time, wounds may mend and we shall each find our own way forward. Always shall I carry the flame of our love, and the vows we whispered beneath the stars.

With a heart both burdened and unwavering,

[Y/N]"

Amidst the whirlwind of agony, your midwife's voice breaks through, insistent yet comforting. You strain to make sense of her words, every fiber of your being consumed by the all-encompassing pain of contractions. She seems to peer into your very soul, searching for an answer. "What do you wish for?" she asks again, her eyes locked onto yours as if seeking a secret.

Summoning the last dregs of your strength, you manage to reply, the words escaping your lips in a strained murmur, "Gahhh I think uuh a girl." The curt response is all you can muster amidst the ordeal.

Your fingers clutch at the sheets beneath you, your knuckles white from the intensity of your grip. The contraction slowly releases its hold, and as the wave of torment subsides, you gasp for air, trying to steady your trembling body. The seconds feel like eternity, every moment stretched to its limit.

"How long?" you croak, your voice raw from hours of relentless struggle. You've lost all sense of time, each passing second an eternity of pain.

"A couple more. We need a bit more dilation. Hang on, my dear," your midwife's voice is a soothing balm, her touch gentle yet firm. She rearranges the pillows behind you, adjusting your position to aid the process. It's a small gesture, but it carries the weight of empathy and understanding.

It had been a miracle that she agreed to deliver your child when none other did. The world is never kind to a single mother. Wiping away the sweat on your forehead, the woman looks at you with pity in her eyes. "Your girl will be fortunate to have a mother such as you," the kindness of her words leaves you more vulnerable than you already are.

"And when she finally arrives," the midwife continues, her hands cradling your tear-stained face, "you will teach her to be as brave as her mother." After all the months of your pain, your guilt, and heartache you for the first time feel loved.

A brief interlude of tranquility is shattered by the onset of another brutal contraction, the pain washing over you like a tidal wave. Your body tenses, your breath catching as you grit your teeth against the intensity. The midwife's voice, steady and guiding, pierces through the haze. "Come on now, time to push," she declares, positioned at the foot of the bed, her poised stance is a beacon of strength.

"Push, push," her words merge with the searing ache, becoming a distant echo as you steel yourself for what lies ahead. Your fingers, once tangled in the sheets, suddenly lose their grip, rising to cradle your belly. Yet, before they can fully reach their destination, they're enveloped by larger, familiar hands.

Adrian. His presence is a jolt of solace amid the chaos. The memory of those hands, those strong and steady hands, floods your senses. They fit yours perfectly.

In that moment, he draws closer, his body aligning with yours. He positions himself behind you, he places a kiss on your grossly sweaty forehead.

There are no grand proclamations, no elaborate vows. Instead, it's the tangible proof of his presence that speaks volumes. It's a testament that, despite the shadows that have haunted his past, he has chosen you, and the life you've created together. His child.

Your breath comes uneven but despite that you hear his heart beat. It beats louder than ever, even louder than the time you managed to jump scare him.

Your screams end with shrill cries filling the room. She was here, your daughter. She was here with her father and mother.

[ato-catto]

Goku x fem reader

Old friends, new flames.

Implied smut/sensual/kissing/lust

You had been listing your shopping through your head and doing a few calculations when you suddenly hit something very warm and hard. Your basket flew out of your hand and the contents clattered to the ground, multiple vegetables and cans rolling in every direction.

Swearing under your breath and apologising to the person you crashed into, you began picking up the apples that had been sent rolling when a big strong hand covered yours, and you looked down, seeing a familiar shaped shadow of hair.

"Goku!?" Your eyes widened as your eyes flicked up to meet his big, friendly dark eyes.

He cocked his head. "Do I know you?"

Of course he would have forgotten you. Your days staying at Kame House were long behind you, having taken up residence in a busy village years before after you could no longer put up with Roshis ways.

"It's me, Y/N." You smiled. You couldn't have changed that much in a decade, surely?

You watched as the realisation dawned over his face, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. "Oh! Y/N! I didn't even recognise you!"

You barely had recognised him in such casual clothing, the only obvious thing making him Goku was his wild wave of black hair that waved slightly in the breeze. His orange gi had been replaced by beige jeans with a matching jacket, a white vest adorning his muscular chest beneath. His jacket sleeves were rolled to his elbows and his hands were caked in dirt- he looked the perfect part of a farmer.

You had heard in passing from Bulma that he had taken up farming, and continued to do so after Chichi kicked him out.

Goku continued to help you pick up your groceries, gathering them into his burly arms.

"How've you been, Y/N?" He beamed, his smile all sunshine and rainbows. It was terribly infectious, making a smile grow on your lips too.

"I've been alright. I've decided to give up fighting and just live a quiet life here in the village."

He looked slightly dissapointed by that, but he quickly realised it wasn't his place to judge. You looked happy- and that's all that mattered.

You still looked as radiant as the days back at Kame House when you all lived together. You had filled out slightly, matured a little in the face- but it had all made you so much more pretty looking.

Once your basket was refilled, Goku and you chitchatted, catching up on the last decade or so of lost time.

When the talk turned to his family, the shine waited from his eyes. "Ah, yeah." He sighed, resting an arm against his tractor. "Chichi finally snapped after Gohan left to live with Videl. She needed me to be around more, and earn more zeni, but I couldn't balance those things with my training." He scratched the back of his neck with a near shameful look on his face.

You lay a sympathetic hand on his shoulder and gave him a comforting look.

"In sorry Goku. Perhaps she just doesn't understand you passion."

Truly, you have never really liked Chichi's treatment of Goku. You had been present when she coerced him into marriage, and nearby when she had berated him for training to save the planet. She had her good moments, and she was a very good housewife, but they was she spoke to him made your heart ache. He was so gentle, so soft, and a little behind the moment at times- he didn't deserve to be treated in any other way but loving and understanding.

He was not human.

He was never going to be a human man, nor behave like one.

Gokus eyes strayed away, telling you he didn't want apart of this conversation anymore. You saw him let his mind go blank before that infectious smile crept back onto his lips. "Want a ride home in the tractor?" He asked with a certain childish excitement that didn't quite fit his muscles.

You grinned, happy to have the twenty minute walk home taken off your back. You hopped into the tractor beside him, fitting snuggly between his thigh and the edge of the plastic seat. The tractor rumbled to life and Goku pushed it into gear. You clung to his arm, worried that the bumps in the dirt would bounce you off.

Now that you had a more hands on approach to his well toned figure, you realised just how cut he was.

The muscles under his jacket tensed when he turned the wheel and your cheeks raised pink.

He had grown stronger and taller since you last saw him, but he was still the same old Goku. You wondered quietly while peering up with him if he had surpassed super Saiyan. He had grown into manhood nicely, even fathering two sons, so perhaps he had also grown into his Saiyan heritage?

Your thoughts were cut off when he turned to meet your eyes, both of you staring at eachother in awkward silence as the tractor trundled along.

His eyes stared blankly into yours, blinking. You stared back, caught offguard by his handsome face.

"Uuh-" he pulled a comical face. You cracked a grin and snorted.

"Oh you're still as silly as ever, Goku." You elbowed him, making his confusion morph into amusement.

"You were the one starin' at me!" He protested, leaning back in the chair, letting the tractor continue down the lane.

"I was just thinking." You hummed, adjusting the basket in your lap.

"Thinkin' about what?" He tilted his head.

"How powerful you've gotten. Did you ever surpass super Saiyan?"

His eyes lit up at the thought of his all time favourite subject, and the fact that you were taking interest in it. "I sure did! Far beyond that, infact!" He pulled over the tractor and engaged the breaks. He hopped down to the dirt road and stepped a few paces back into the empty feild beside them.

"Watch!"

You indeed did watch as he began to roar, powering up into Super Saiyan- then... Super Saiyan again?

"Uh. So you're a super Saiyan? Well done?"

Goku, with now piercing blue eyes and golden hair chuckled darkly. His voice always seemed to drop a few octaves when he transformed. "No, this is Super Saiyan two."

You frown, interested, but confused. "It looks exactly the same."

He gave you a rather mischievous grin that made your heart flop unexpectedly. "Alright, what about this!"

Five minutes of watching him scream and his muscles tensing was enough to drive you to a very sudden conclusion.

You were attracted to the man. Your old friend and sparring partner was making you blush.

It was an odd revelation to have but it was quickly brushed aside by a browless rapunzel of a man.

Goku had transformed once again, the energy around him crackling dangerously. His hair was down to his ankles now, and his eyebrows had vanished into supposed thin air. You went wide eyed.

"Wow!" You gaped. "What do you call that form?"

Goku smirked, his voice gruff. "Super Saiyan Three."

You shut your mouth and the disbelief was replaced with amusement. "That... that's a very creative name-." You snorted. Goku pouted, and deformed entirely.

"I have another form-" he began.

"Save it for my place." You laughed, your ears ringing and skin prickling from the energy he had dispelled. He hopped right back into the tractor beside you like the power he had just displayed was nothing at all.

Once you had guided him to your home, he parked the tractor beside your front door and hopped down, offering you a hand which you took, gladly. Something about this gesture made you feel safer than usual. Your hands were tiny in his, and he felt strong beside you.

The man was a literal pillar of Hope. In many ways.

He had saved the earth more times than anyone knew. And perhaps you loved him for that.

Inviting him in for tea was a given, and he obliged with a cheery smile. He sat awkwardly at your dining table, the chairs being a little too delicate for his heavy frame.

"Would you like juice or tea?" You asked, setting your basket on the side and running the tap.

Goku adjusted himself in the chair, his jeans uncomfortably tight. They werent like his gi. They didn't give room for his legs or junk like the loose material did. "I'll have a tea please." He beamed over his shoulder but once he turned back his frown furrowed and he grunted at the annoyance of his tight jeans. He tried to stretch them out, popping a quick squat.

You turned in confusion when you heard a might RRRRIP. And Goku stood before you with a rip in his jeans, flashing blue and white stripy cotton boxers.

"Waaaaugh!" He cried, beginning to freak out. "My pants! I was tryna' stretch 'em!!"

You covered your mouth and stifled a laugh, your eyes wide. "Oh gosh, Goku. You've wrecked your jeans entirely."

He pouted. "I know-"

He tried his best to pull the edges back together, but without a needle and threat that wasn't going to do any good.

You suggested taking them off. You had some XXL tracksuit pants laying around (that you wore for comfort reasons- the baggier the better) which you offered to him.

"Gee, thanks." He beamed, undoing his belt and slipping them down over his muscular legs. You turned back to the sink, not needing your pounding heart to make itself evident on your face.

Tossing the shredded jeans aside, he took a long breath as if he could breathe again. He borrowed the grey joggers and slipped them on, now just in your pants and the tank top. He looked... gloriously casual.

Your eyes lingered on him a little longer than they should of when he came to the counter to collect his tea cup. The grey joggers curved around him in all the right places, leaving little to the imagination in the crotch department. You found yourself salivating, your imagination running wild as to what was underneath.

Goku had been watching you. Your eyes seemed to glaze over in thought as your cheeks turned pink. He wondered what you were thinking about.

His eyes locked on yours caught you offguard once again, snapping you out of your less than pure train of thought. "Oh! Sorry-" you glanced away.

"Is something on your mind?" He asked, leaning on the counter beside you, shadowing you in the wake of his tall physique. His eyes were gentle and curious, and his hair shadowed his face.

"Not really." You bluffed. "Just thinking about what I forgot at the market!"

Goku blinked. "I can go back and grab whatever you need?" He suggested.

"No, no! It's fine." You blurted, trying to find a reasons in your mind to complete your lie. "I can get them tomorrow-"

Goku frowned slightly and leant forward, his face getting extremely close to yours. "You're lyin'." He accused gently, searching your eyes. "Why would you be blushin' about some forgotten groceries?"

Uh oh. You were completely caught- even if he didn't know the true intent of your zoning out, he had the gist of it.

Playing dumb was your only way out.

"I was blushing? I must have gotten too much sun while I was outside."

Goku wasn't having it. He had sunburn before. It doesn't appear and dissapear at a moments notice.

He didn't exactly appreciate being lied to, but that didn't mean he couldn't try to mince the truth out of you sooner or later. Goku always had a knack for weeding things out of people. Even Vegeta, the Prince of all Brick Walls.

"You don't have to lie to me, Y/N." He pressed, caging you against the kitchen side between his arms. He gave you an intense look- which from your perspective somehow looked both slightly threatening and comical.

"I- I am not lying." You back up until your back is pressed hard against the kitchen counter.

Goku only pressed closer, his nose touching yours as his eyes tried to penetrate your soul. You couldn't breathe. He was so close you could feel his warm breath on your cheek.

Was this some form of intimidation? You wouldn't admit regardless..

"Goku- I-" Everything was too intense. The air about you both changed. You glanced down at his mouth and back up to his eyes, your gut stirring.

Goku, admittedly had been attracted to you since the moment you smacked into him in the village. And now he had put himself in a predicament where he was so close he could taste you. Now it was his turn to go red. His breath hitched when your eyes moved to his lips.

"Y/N-" he begun, but the words stuck in his throat.

When you woke up this morning you didn't expect your afternoon to turn into the Saiyan pushing his lips to yours in an almost desperate fashion, pulling you up to place you on the counter so he didn't have to crane down. His big hands cupped your face and his heart beat hard against his ribs.

Perhaps he was just desperate after the separation. Or maybe it was something that had laid dormant in his stomach over the last decade- but his kisses became desperate and something manifested in him that even you hadn't seen before.

The tender, funny, gentle man had turned into a whimpering, handsy mess. Beating your passion by tenfold; you were nervous but eager but the Saiyan was in full swing, palming your curves and battling his tongue against yours.

And winning.

"Sah-" he breathed as he pulled away, a string of saliva still connecting the two of you. You looked up at him, your eyes lidded, and cheeks warm.

"What was that for..?" You whisper, hands still balled in his vest against his chest.

Goku barely looks lucid, his eyes clouded over and lidded. "Huh-?"

He must've needed the female touch after being alone for so long, working the fields. All that testosterone must have worked its way up to his power-addled brain and made him desperate for attention.

You swipe your thumb over his bottom lip, wiping the saliva away. "Goku.. Snap out of it."

He blinks a few times, and he's back to normal, smiling and dusting himself off, moving back and away from you. "Ah, sorry! Don't know what came over me!"

You frown. "Uh.. its alright."

He scratched the back of his neck and giggles. "You tasted like donuts- Its made me kinda hungry!"

You had donuts for lunch, but that was besides the point. "Goku, you just made out with me. You don't do that for no reason."

He pressed his lips into a line. "It.. felt right in the moment. Its a mistake, I'm sorry." The joy in his eyes seemed to flicker away. "Was that a bad thing to do?"

It was a sin to do that to you and never do it again.

It left you wanting so much more, rooting your young adulthood crush from the pits if your stomach.

"Of course not. I liked it."

"Oh."

He had liked it too- it was evident from the way he still kept glancing at your lips and licking his own.

"Oh?" You pressed.

"I did too. I just kinda expected you to be mad at me, s'all."

You brushed a stray hair from his eyes. "I could never be mad at you, Goku."

He responded well to tender words, his pupils going wide and his mouth coming in for another, more calculated, kiss. He had grown used to angry women and playful yet hard slaps- this gentleness from you was new and enticing.

Your hands ghosted up his sides, resting your fingers in the hem of the joggers. Goku's hands held the back of your neck, stabilising your head while he probed your mouth with his ever curious tongue.

Your teeth found his bottom lip and gently nipped on it, making him mewl deeply, his eyes cracking open a slit to make contact with yours. His brows quirked into a sensual frown, biting you back with equal verve. His hands found the bend of your back, shifting you round and placing you flat against the wall of the kitchen. Resting one hand on the wall beside your head and the other playing with the hem of your cami, fingers sliding under the material and brushing against the skin of your stomach.

His mouth found your jaw, then neck, the shoulder, brushing the spaghetti strap put of the way so he had access to all your skin there. You tilted your head back until it thudded against the wall, blissed by the feeling of his lips and teeth on your skin.

Goku smelt of earth and grass before a rainstorm, a beautiful combination that suited him perfectly.

When he finally pulled away again, making you worried that he would distance himself for the second time, your fists clutching his vest.

He chuckled, ruffling your hair. "Don't worry, I'm not gonna walk away. I just wanted to ask you something." His eyes sparkled with something you couldn't quite read, but made it made your stomach flop about like a fish.

"Oh? What is it?"

His hands found your jaw and he tilts your face up.

"Can we take this to the bedroom?"

[hobivore]

Taste

Lee Felix x reader (f)

Genre: smut (minors DNI)

WC: 1k

Warnings: slight dom/sub dynamics if you squint (dom!felix), dirty talk, fingering, oral (f receiving), messy childhood friends to lovers

A/N: This is a reupload from my old sideblog linoguistics, so you might've seen this on tumblr before! The prompt (as requested by @minisugakoobies) for this drabble is "I want to taste you."

© hobivore Reposts, translations and modifications are not allowed. All events and characters are fictional and for entertainment purposes only.

SKZ masterlist | Ask box

“We’re so happy you could make it, Felix. It’s been too long.”

Felix smiles at your father, bright, his response—something about the years flying by—lost to your ears as he draws figure eights on your thigh underneath the table, the pads of his fingers burning through the fabric of your trousers. 

If he were anyone else, your parents might’ve read more into the stolen glances you’ve been sending each other all evening. But this is Felix, the boy you grew up with; your best friend since kindergarten, who’d been at your side for as long as you can remember. Primary school, high school, college, even your first real job that didn’t involve working odd hours at the university’s library: Felix has been there through it all. 

Felix, who’d kissed your mum on the cheek when you arrived, giggling as she told him how much he’s grown, even though he stopped growing years ago. 

And it’d been that same Felix who had dragged you upstairs to bring his luggage to the guest bedroom, pressing you up against the door upon entering, hungry, down onto your knees, thrusting into your mouth while holding your wrists pinned above your head until your dad’s voice called out for dinner. 

It’s impossible to concentrate on dessert when your best friend’s hand inches up your thigh slowly, torturous—the situation made even worse as he bends over, his breath ghosting the shell of your ear.

“Your mum’s cheesecake is just as good as I remember.” He chuckles when you rub your thighs together, voice dropping even lower as he continues, “but I want to taste you.”

It doesn’t take long for the two of you to hurry upstairs—concerned parents brushing off your offer to help clean up, insisting you should rest after such a long exhausting flight—and you let him lead you into your old bedroom, heart pounding against your ribcage, panties sticking to your skin uncomfortably. 

He notices, of course—peeling them off your body with a reproachful tut, spreading your thighs with his hands as his face hovers inches above you. “This wet already? From just a bit of teasing?”

You come up to your elbows, impatient, head lolling back when he spreads your folds with two fingers and blows hot air on your slick core, grinning at your choked-off response.

“Lix—please, come on,” you whine, pent-up frustration from the hours of teasing bubbling to the surface again, body aching for his touch. 

He spits on your pussy, watching the dollop of saliva drip down, his index finger catching it before circling around your entrance, making you bite the inside of your cheek to avoid a moan from spilling past your lips. 

“What do you want?” Felix asks.

“Just—I need something, please, your fingers, your cock—” you ramble as he continues his motions, hating how such a simple touch muddles up your thoughts. Your hips move on their own volition in search of more friction, but Felix holds them down with a forearm wrapped around your thigh. 

He laughs, his breath tickling your skin again, making you shiver. “I don’t know, baby,” he murmurs. “Do you think you deserve it? You’re so greedy.” 

His finger is still circling your entrance and you clench around nothing, arousal leaking onto his hand. “And desperate,” he adds at the sight, grinning. “Maybe,” he continues, heavy-lidded eyes finding yours, “I’ll make you come on my tongue, then let you ride my cock—make you fuck yourself through it.” 

Your core aches at his words and Felix brings his hand up in front of his face, licking his fingers clean before pinning your thighs to the bed. Burning hotly, you squirm in his grip as he takes in the sight of you. His gaze trails over your body, pretty lips curling into an amused smile. “If you can do it—I don’t think you’ll be able to, after I’m done,” he contemplates. “I’ve barely touched you and you’re already a mess.” 

He’s not wrong, of course—but his words are just the right amount of condescending to make you grit your teeth, head coming up again, eyes narrowing. “I can do it.”

“We’ll see,” Felix smiles, all teeth and crinkled eyes, before dipping his head down. He quickly settles into a rhythm that has you writhing against the sheets, his tongue playing with your clit, teasing you until you’re at the brink of release only to pull back again. 

It’s wet and messy—slick noises fill up the room when he adds two fingers, and you push your own into your mouth, sucking on them, not wanting anyone else but Felix to hear the soft whimpers uttered under your breath. 

Your thighs are slippery with arousal and spit, dripping onto the sheets below, still the same—now faded—floral motif your mother bought all those years ago. Your cheeks heat at the thought of what they’ve seen; countless nights spent with Felix, hiding from the world, stolen kisses between breathless gasps. 

“For old times’ sake,” he says every time he undresses you, and each time you lie to yourself, thinking this night will be the last. 

But what’s a little bit of fun between friends? 

It’s another lie—sloppy, open-mouthed love bites down your neck, sharp teeth grazing your skin. Felix knows every curve and dip of your body, mastered proficiency through tracing it with his tongue. 

The right amount of pressure, now three fingers stretching you, his lips around your clit as he sucks, harshly, humming when he feels your thighs starting to shake. 

“Fuck—don’t stop, don’t stop,” you urge him on, and you can see your own hunger reflected in his eyes. Their intensity is almost unbearable.

Have I ever let you down? 

Never.

You come with a sob, tugging on his hair when the pleasure fades into the pinpricks of overstimulation. Felix crawls his way up on the bed until his body is next to yours and flops onto his back, a big grin still plastered onto his glistening face. He licks his lips, hand lazily stroking his cock, inviting. 

“Come on then, angel. Show me what you’ve got.”

Thank you for reading! If you liked this story please reblog, leave a comment, tell a friend, send me a pigeon, launch a mars rover. Your encouragement fuels my inner writer cryptid 👾

[linkito]

hello. my eye is still twitching but GOD the most recent rambles and rp bits that ange posted made my heart ACHE for scar. he's being so completely and totally overlooked here by multiple other hermits (like his own pain and trauma don't matter) and uuughhhghhghhghhg. anyway poking you to talk more about scar's thoughts and feelings throughout that all IF you would so like (so i can sob and weep and cry and continue to distract myself from work)

Oh gosh, it's bad honestly.

Because Scar knows where his heart is at, he knows he'd never do anything purposely cruel to Grian. But he can't speak for Grian's intentions. The Hermits are concerned that Grian is seeking out self-destruction with their antics and well... Scar just doesn't know.

The safest option for him is to simply wait it out. They put a pause to the rougher side of things, and honestly, that's fine! Scar could continue their relationship like this and he would still be happy. But...is it really their decision? Or are they letting other people think for them? People who don't know their experiences. People who don't know what it means, why they do these things in the first place.

But Scar feels like he has to keep these thoughts to himself. It feels impossible to remove his own desires from the equation if he speaks up, and he wants this to ultimately be Grian's choice.

(But keeping quiet means letting the Hermits have all the influence.)

He also feels like he's being held to a higher standard than is fair because of his seemingly violent nature. He has to appear more put-together and tame when he's around the Hermits. He has to hold back the claws, the teeth, the growling, and even his wings because they simply serve as reminders of his battered and ghastly nature.

And isn't it a little ironic to be hiding wings again? Somewhere where they're supposed to be safe to be themselves?

Grian's trauma results in him being withdrawn and skittish. People see that and pity him, which is a whole mess of its own, of course, but... Scar's trauma resulted in him growing defensive and on edge, ready to fight when normally he'd flee. ...It's harder to empathize with.

The Hermits don't realize what it is the two of them had to do to survive. All they see are sharp edges that they think need to be sanded down.

When the sleepover comes around, Scar practices a simple mantra: soft little kitten paws. Keep his claws retracted. Be gentle and charismatic-- all the aspects of the old Scar that the Hermits want him to be. He wears a dress shirt and a cozy-looking sweater vest. He gets a fresh haircut and combs it back. He uses his cane both because he's anxious and needs the crutch, but also because he hopes it makes him appear more harmless.

... and yet things still go wrong.

have a doodle for reading this far </3

[kattythingz]

Where is he? / Where is the man with whom you’ll spend your life?

Penelopeeeeee... Penelopee.... And ED AS PENELOPE, SIKE. I did say my original epic au stemmed from this root concept >:D! (Ft. Nina as Telemachus, obviously.) This au has been a terrible brainworm since before the Ocean Saga, but the Wisdom Saga broke into my house personally and kicked the shit out of me with that Man of the House reprise. I think I blacked out between then and drawing this.

Rip to all the edling animatics I'd make to Epic if only I had the skills, starting from Man of the House. Sigh 😔

Bonus Ed & Nina scene under the cut~

The Emperor of Xing has been gone nearly a decade now.

At eleven years old, the heiress to the throne, Nina, begins to grow anxious of the suitors inviting themselves into the palace, all to win her father’s heart. All for naught, however, as Ed only has eyes for the distant sea; frozen at the window, he watches every new ship that docks at the bay.

Always hoping it’s Ling’s ship. Always deflating when it’s not.

One such day, Nina’s watching the sea with Ed, this time standing properly at the dock with the breeze in their hair. When the last of the ships have docked, none to Ed’s hope, Nina asks with a small voice whether Ed will marry any of the suitors.

Ed turns surprised eyes to her. “Why would you ask that?” he asks genuinely.

“Because…” Nina starts, wringing her hands anxiously. “You married Papa to be happy together, right? So… so, if you want to be happy again…”

She stops when Ed laughs. “Nina, marrying one of those suitors definitely won’t make me happy. I was never even interested in marriage when I met Ling, you know? I wouldn’t marry one of those guys in comparison if they begged me on their knees and punched themselves.”

Nina giggles at the image, and Ed ruffles her hair with a grin.

“I know it’s hard,” he continues, “but don’t worry yourself about those guys. They’re my problem to deal with.”

“But... the other day... I heard one of them say…” She bites her lip. “I heard them joke about killing you. To—to take your crown…”

Ed knows what she means. They joked about cutting off his head in his sleep to slide Ling’s crown from his neck. He heard them too. 

He schools his revolted reaction even now still, letting out a sigh before kneeling at Nina’s level. She doesn’t fight it when he tugs her into a comforting hug.

“Then they’ll be sorely disappointed when they fail. I’ll stay regent until the day your father gets home... or the day I die waiting for him.” Ed smiles sadly to himself with the last words, and Nina starts at them too.

He doesn’t give her a chance to protest before pulling back to look her in the eye and smile properly.

“And, if that ever happens,” he tells her, “then they still won’t get their kicks, because this kingdom will just have a beautiful queen instead.”

Nina’s eyes go big. Ed sobers in comparison, looking solemn as he holds her eye. “I won’t lie to you; those suitors will try to poison you with a lot of thoughts. They’ll tell you Xing has never had a queen before, or that you aren’t Ling and I’s blood. But all of it’s bullshit. Even if Xing’s never had a queen before, you are the rightful blood to the throne. Ling and I made sure of that when we first adopted you, when we fed you our combined blood in proper ceremony.”

Nina pulls a face, and Ed lets out a laugh. “Yeah, it’s pretty gross. But the process does hold meaning, especially here. It means you are Ling and I’s blood. And anyone who says otherwise clearly has some cultural history to catch up with.”

“But... I don’t want to be queen,” Nina says lowly, looking down at her hands. “I... I know I will be. But you’re the king now. And then it’ll be Papa when he gets back. I don’t…” 

I don't want either of you to die yet.

She doesn’t say it, but Ed hears it all the same, and his heart aches for her. 

He nudges her chin to meet his eye again, expression softer. “I know. Trust me, doll, I know. This is all still a far ways into the future. But I want you to think about it, so you’re not unprepared. Alright?”

“Alright.”

Ed’s eyes lift when Nina nods meekly. He stands up again, holding out his hand for her to grab, and she does so immediately with a squeeze. “That’s my girl. That’s enough depressing talks today. Since it’s still early, why don’t we hit the kitchens to... surprise the suitors a little?”

Nina catches onto his mischievous intent easily—truly his daughter—and giggles. “What kind of surprise today?”

“Hmmm... you had a pretty good idea with their wine last time, didn’t you?”

Nina’s excited little gasp is well worth the trouble from the suitors that morning.

[christmascheeseballs]

Till Death Do Us Part - An Arthur Morgan x OC Story *Part One*

Content Warnings – Kidnapping, Death Threats, Micah Bell, Unplanned Pregnancy, Trauma, Angst, Character Deaths, Eventual Happy Ending (not in this part)

Word Count – 1.3k

Part One - 1.3k words (17th July 2024)

Part Two - 1.7k words (17th July 2024)

Part Three - 1.2k words (19th July 2024)

Authors Note – Some of you may have seen my desperate search for the fic I read years ago along a similar storyline to this. Despite constant searching, I never found it and am genuinely starting to think that it came to me in a dream. So here I am, writing a fic yet again. This will be my first fic since the days of Marvel One-shots over on Wattpad back in 2019, so sorry if I’m rusty!! This’ll either be 2 or 3 parts, should all be published within a week or so 😊

Also, can anyone let me know how to write masterlists/link fics? So that I can do the whole ‘part one here, part two here’ thing?

A quick introduction to the OC of this fic – Florence ‘Flo’ Morgan – 26 years old (1899, 34 in 1907). Married to Athur Morgan since the summer of 1896, and a part of the Van Der Linde Gang since 1885, as Florence Nelson, at 12 years of age. After spending her childhood growing up alongside young Arthur Morgan and John Marston, with Dutch and Hosea as her mentors and honorary parents, her and Arthur eventually became sweet on each other, choosing to court from 1890, learning that they were the loves of each others lives.

-x-

“Flo, please, go. I’m sorry” whispered Arthur, the both of you hidden just outside of the entrance to Beaver Hollow. A single tear slid down his cheek as he held your shaking hands, his cerulean eyes glistening with pure heartbreak.

You both knew the truth – the gang was well and truly at an end. It had been an unbelievable 19 years since you’d first found your place in this family of misfits, but the time had come. To make matters worse, you knew that you were to be continuing with life alone. Your husband, the sweet, strong, seemingly invincible man, was dying. And you knew it. He never told you, but he should have known by now that after 3 years of marriage, and even longer as simply clueless soulmates, you knew him better than he knew himself.

At your silence, Arthur gently pushed you towards your horse. A loyal mare, a sweet grey thoroughbred named Darcy. She had been a part of the gang since you and Arthur first developed your relationship, almost 10 years ago now. Sensing your wrecked emotions, she gently nuzzled the back of your neck, seemingly knowing exactly what Arthur was expecting you to do, and preparing herself for the long and emotionally draining ride ahead of her.

“Arthur, please. Let me come with you. We can do this together”, you sniffle, grabbing desperately at his hands once again. Even though you knew exactly what reality held for you, you still plead for a second chance, a glimmer of hope inside you that together, you could beat Micah and Dutch, and live out your happily ever after. In your heart, you knew that would never happen, so even going forward with the love of your life to inevitably die together would suffice your aching soul. Sure, it wasn’t the way you wanted it to go, but at least you’d be sticking to the promise of ‘till death do us part’.

“I’m sorry sweetheart, I really am. But you know I can’t let you come. I need you to be safe”, he responded, holding onto your hands, squeezing them gently. “You have to be safe”. Taking your waist gently, Arthur lifted you into Darcy’s saddle, his arms as strong as ever for you, despite his developing weakness. He always found strength for you. You had no regrets in this relationship, or life in general, not really. But you wish Arthur could’ve brought himself to tell you the truth about his illness. You suppose he’d rather that you believe that he’d died in the inevitable fight against Micah and Dutch, not succumbing to a fatal illness. It was a pride thing, you guessed.

Holding back a sob, you settle in your saddle, your feet sliding instinctively into your stirrups. Arthur takes your hands once again, shaking palms sliding into yours, and stares into your eyes. His face says a thousand words, but instant he mutters four simple ones. And they mean so much more than usual.

“I love you, Florence.”

You lean down for a final kiss, pressing your forehead against his, trying to put the last 9 years of love and devotion into this last moment together. A sudden rustle from within the now mostly derelict camp makes Arthur break out of his trance, quickly bringing him back to reality. He reluctantly pulls himself away from you, giving you a final look and a bittersweet smile.

Arthur gives Darcy a final pat, thanking her for her years of loyalty to the both of you, and you gently spur her forward, encouraging her away from the camp, away from the danger, and away from the love of your life. As she falls into a gentle canter, you look behind you one last time, giving Arthur a wistful look as he turns around, readying himself for the oncoming fight.

2 months later

The last 8 weeks of your life had truly been the most traumatic time. But the morning you had just experienced made the whole thing a lot more real.

After the loss of your husband, you had managed to reunite with John, Abigail, and the others. While you were far from safe, it definitely felt a lot more relaxed than the past few months you had gone through. Although you were on the run from the law on a daily basis, you finally had managed to rid yourself of the constant fear of the gang literally killing each other. The remaining portion of the gang had managed to set up a small camp just north of Ambarino, in the state of Oregon. Constantly on the look out of people following you, it was far from relaxing, but felt like a paradise in comparison. If only Arthur was there to see it, you couldn’t help but think.

However, a new fear had come to head. Whilst you originally put the lack of your monthly bleeding down to stress, new symptoms had caused Abigail to start giving you knowing looks. Looks that you didn’t even understand, to begin with. But after a serious conversation, your condition was clear. Pregnancy. With the man who you became a widow to 2 months ago. Due to be born to a life of running, at least until the extensive bounty was off your head. The worst case scenario.

Curse your mind. Your overactive brain couldn’t help to focus on one small light in this dark, dark time. You were getting a part of him back. What if they had his eyes? His laugh? His dry sense of humor? His intense way of caring and loving for anyone that mattered?

If this didn’t make you feel guilty, you didn’t know what would. How could you be finding joy in this time? Knowing that your child would be doomed, and yet still feeling a sense of happiness in it? Knowing that you were to live a life of single parenthood, knowing that your Arthur would never get to even know that his child was ever even a thing?

While your future was terrifying, the chance of having a part of your love back healed a small part of you.

1 month later

As your stomach slowly began to swell, the inevitable change in your life started to dwell on you. Yet still, the only person to know the truth was Abigail. Dear, pure Abigail. You don’t think you could’ve done any of this without her. Her knowing looks and careful tone was all you needed to come to terms with your condition. Speaking of, you knew she was looking for you, knowing that the impossible conversation was long overdue.

As you sat by the edge of your measly lakeside camp in North Western Oregon, gently stroking your tiny bump, you heard Abigail heading towards you, turning to see her striding in your direction with purpose set in her face. “Florence, you ready?” she murmured as she sat down next to you, digging her heels into the sand as she turned to watch you intently.

“Ready as I’ll ever be, I suppose”, you sigh, the weight of the world sitting heavily on your shoulders. “What’s the plan?”

Whilst the plan was simple, it was far from ideal. In short, you’d leave. Find a little homestead in the west, with the money Arthur left for you, as far from West Elizabeth and the surrounding areas as possible, and settle down. When the baby has come, move somewhere more temperate, more permanent, and just make your life work. A heartbreaking, lonely life, but the only one that would work.

The second part of the plan was the part that broke you more. When leaving, you’d tell nobody. Abigail would act none the wiser, and not even John, your brother since a child, would know of your situation. Not Sadie, not Charles, not anyone. A life where you were doomed to merely exist as a mother, until luck eventually found its way to you. If that ever was to happen.

You had a week until the end of your life as you knew it.

-x-

Thank you so much for reading, please like, reblog and comment for part 2 <3

[genesis-quoi]

Everyone please please please do yourself a favor and check out @suzienightsky's Phantom Ruby Illusion Tails AU, I am literally gnawing on the walls it's so good. This recent comic crumpled my brain like a soda can so enjoy this unhinged piece based off of it and its dialogue. ^.^

If you get there before I do, comin for to carry me home~

Stillness shatters against the soothing warble of an old friend.

Shards of sound so desperately sought after skewer him before he thinks better of opening his eyes, and soon after they burn in the blue crackling of electricity that blurs away at the outer corners of his vision like the stars he hadn’t seen in months. 

He wants to wipe his eyes but can’t, for the fear of bringing his electrified restraints close to his face again, of which the last attempt had him seeing things that weren’t there, and left him forever wondering if he’d ever be able to trust them like he once did.  

Tell all our friends I’m comin too~

He ends up weeping openly. This is a voice he trusts, even as everything else fails him. 

“Tails!” He cried, but it’s hollow and hoarse and pathetic how little he had to say now that his days and nights blurred together in the miserable swirl of longing. 

“T-Tails-!” 

His pleas were underscored by the droning buzz of electricity that echoed off the metal and a melody so familiar that everything else gets carried away easily in the gentle fondness that came with it, in and out of the bars of his cell like the call of home. 

A long forgotten and bespoke spark ignites within him, brought to life by Tails’ apparent easiness, in spite of the situation. 

He remembers teaching him that song what felt like a lifetime ago…back when he was barely taller than enough than his legs that he refused to let go of. 

It was a tad silly, he thought in retrospect, though Tails took to it so long as he kept his own promises to be back before the tune was finished. 

As they grew, it fell by the wayside for quite a bit, though the assurances it was meant to symbolize lived on in the ways they always tried to protect each other from situations like these. 

He really shouldn’t be so happy that Tails is putting himself in danger like this, but hearing his voice after nothing but the thrum of machinery and his own screaming was a balm on his aching heart. 

It’s him-it was really-

“Comin for carry me home~”

A silhouette approaches the bars from the darkness, and as it does so, he notices that it glows with that same loathsome tint he can’t escape even in sleep-

It’s just another trick. 

Another illusion meant to torment him-

“Here you are!” It called to him, though he doesn’t turn around. Maybe it will just go away on its own. 

“You were right, you know…things are a lot less scary now.” 

It hums the rest of the chorus sweetly, oblivious to the way each note pulverizes him and he feels mangled like he’s gotten caught within the mundane backdrop of pistons and gears. 

“Who sent you this time?” He snaps before long, and the last note out of its lips sours and shrivels into silence. 

Nevertheless, with a deep sigh that sounded more like static off an old TV than a transfer of air, its next words are no less chipper. 

“You did…didn’t you? You wanted me here-”

“I don’t want ‘you’ here. I want YOU you-the real you-!”

“Sonic, don’t you recognize me? I’m sorry I took so long…really! I tried, honest…but you promised we’d be friends no matter what…didn’t you?” 

Its voice quavers in that heartbreakingly agonizing way it used to, back when he would have to field this question at least twice a day. 

He can’t help himself.

Against his better judgment, he looks up and stares into the slightly damp eyes of the doppelganger parading around in his little brother’s skin, as if it had the audacity to be upset when it couldn’t even be bothered enough to try to be someone he missed.

“It’s me…you still love me, right?”  

The pounding in his head grows as his mind splits itself apart. For once he wondered if it would all stop hurting so much if he just went along with it and gave in because he’s been here eight lifetimes as far as he knows. One of them might as well have a shred of comfort in it, even if he knows it’s all that’s left. 

But the other, more stubborn part angrily refuses to give up, because if he never gets out of here he’d at least have done right by his real little brother, who’s out there somewhere probably moving mountains for him.  

Tails is a fighter. They should be arguing right now about things they already know are implicit, just to hear it out loud again how much they meant to each other. It wasn’t like Tails to cave, to crumble, he just wasn’t that docile toddler anymore. 

And yet…

“If it’s you…the real you…you’d’ve sprung me out of this place already.”

He glares at the faded red phantom of his brother with all the malice he can muster, and while its grin never falters, the rest of its form seems to slowly crack around it.

“What if,” a line splits directly down and fractures from its ear to an eye, “the only way we could be together was if i joined you?”

“No!” 

He tried to be intimidating, but as if his subconscious thought it looked enough like Tails to warrant the innate softening being around him usually did, it sounded less like a demand and more like a blatant plea to get him to stop eating stuff off the ground.

“You’re not real! You aren’t real! You’re just like the rest of them, just go back to where you came from and leave me alone!”

That was supposed to have been the end of it. Maybe he’d disappear after calling him pathetic, or maybe Infinite would appear again, least likely Eggman strolling by to gloat despite his obvious failure to trick him this time…

But nothing happens.

Another growing crack creeps up one of its tails and it looked pained as it watched, cradling it in its hands in a futile attempt to stop it.

“You always said it didn’t matter what I looked like.” While the words are despondent, there’s definitely an off-putting hint of anger buried within it that captures his attention.

“But now that I’m like this…?” It stopped, suddenly trying to hide all the cracks that marred his…its little body like scars in that way that was too uncanny to be replicated-

“I used to think maybe you were just like the rest of them too, y’know. You were supposed to prove me wrong.”

There’s years of pain and sadness compressed into his admission that terrifies him-makes him think that maybe he does have it wrong and Tails is really here-that maybe he’s had unspeakable things done to him too and he’s only making it worse by turning his brother away just because he’s also had parts of himself taken away that would’ve made the choice easier. 

“Wait, Tails-!” He shouted, far too late. It’s gone again, and it’s all his fault he’s got nothing but the shadows to talk to now.

Until he turned back around.

“Hi Sonic!” 

He nearly falls backwards onto the metal in surprise when he hears the high-pitched bleating of a dusty old computer struggling to start up.

“Tails…?”

The kid is behind him now. Inside his cell. 

“Yes?”

And while he should be irritated at having allowed himself to be even momentarily swayed, it-he…still looked far too similar to his little brother to the effect that he doesn’t have the heart or the energy for this anymore. 

“You’re…not really him…” He tried gently, deflated.  

If he was lucky, the phantom would take after the real Tails and understand his approach.

His brother could take his licks and a bomb to the face with pride and come out of it no worse for wear, only to crumble away into nothing every single time his own careful fingers would softly brush against his wounds.

“What do you mean?” The phantom illusion of Tails beams and it stands in stark, unsettling contrast to the darkness that surrounds them, like he doesn’t understand and doesn’t want to. 

“Of course I’m him!”

He appears to be completely indifferent to the way his voice distorts around the lie. 

“I missed you more than anything-!” The phantom grabs at his hands and the electric cuffs sear into his skin at the agitation the static brings.

It felt like pins and needles everywhere else, and not in a normal way he gets to laugh it off when it’s convenient. 

It’s chilling. And terrifying in a way he can’t explain.

“Sonic…?” Tails seems hurt that he pulled away, and tries toward him a second time as if to redeem himself. “It’s me…remember…? It’s okay to be scared, but…it’s just me…”

“No…” His heart races and he can’t hear himself thinking…normally this wouldn’t be a problem for him if he could just get away but there’s nowhere to run and he can’t, even if there was-

“It’s just me…let me help you-”

The phantom bounds towards him with outstretched arms and the world starts to close in and everything bleeds red…everything, from the walls to the bars to the stars that aren’t there to the streaks running down the phantom’s cheeks-

“Please…?” 

He tries to steady himself on the metal that jutted from the wall, but as soon as he sits he’s crashed into atop the makeshift bed and what felt like a current of lightning erupts through his entire body as the illusion engulfs him in an embrace that’s something akin to running face first into an electric fence. 

His thoughts dissolve quickly into a loud screaming chorus of pain and discomfort as the phantom sensation of his little brother burrowing into him continues. 

Much as it hurts he missed it so much he’d burn forever if it meant he never forgot what it was like.

The illusion’s words become little more than a steady thrum that reverberate through him and remind him that he’s still alive. 

“You’d never replace me, right? You promised you’d stay, always. I’m here now. Everything is going to be okay again…” 

He doesn’t remember losing consciousness, yet he comes to so pleasantly he’d been momentarily thankful that it was all a dream.

But the only thing that illuminates his thoughts in the darkness is a persistent glow, reflections of things that were never there lending credence to his loneliness…

And a song he knew all the words to, once. 

Sometimes I’m up, sometimes I’m down~

The phantom illusion kicks his small legs off the side of the bunk to keep time, smiling broadly in a way that made him queasy when he’d noticed he was alert again.

Comin for to carry me home~

His song punctuates itself midway through with a series of light-hearted giggles as if they were around a campfire, either unaware or unbothered completely by the sight of the oppressive prison they were confined to. 

“I waited for you!”  

There’s a deep gouge in his face, just below one of his cheeks that keeps him from grinning any wider. 

“...why…?” It’s all his addled mind can produce. 

Tails’ eyes flitted to the ceiling, almost as if wistful despite the grimy nothingness of the view he’d picked over time and time again out of boredom.

“You’re gonna be here forever,” he nearly whispers, and despite the severity of the statement it’s laden with no emotion whatsoever, “that’s why I’m here…to keep you company.”

The phantom of his little brother continues to hum softly as he stares, admiring the cracks in the darkened corners of the cell. 

Now he’s more than annoyed…he’s scared beyond anything that his nightmares were finally becoming reality the less defined reality became. 

He’d watched Tails die too many times for this to be the new normal. 

Who’s idea was this? It’s far too ‘potentially altruistic’ a plan to have been Eggman’s design, and Infinite usually tormented him in other ways…maybe he’s finally lost it in here. 

While he certainly doesn’t plan on being here forever, he absolutely prefers the company over nothing, though not necessarily all of his alternatives. 

For all he knows, it’s already been forever. 

And if this is all that’s left, then…

Maybe he would hang onto home just a little longer. 

[elmundodeflor]

Come here, sit down. I have something important to tell you. A message that could save both our lives.

You’ll have two kids, Gabi and Falco, by the time you’re a little over forty. Well, no, it’s not like you’re gonna be a parent. At least, not in the sense that you’re probably thinking. But you’ll care for them. A lot more than you’ll ever want to admit. You’ll brew them your best tea, tell them bedtime stories about giants from a foreign land.

Gabi, the girl, she’s hotheaded, and reminds you of that time you saw firecrackers on a Marley festival. She gets angry at the world often, but she’s kind. And smart. And has a heart that has so many broken, empty spaces, she can take everyone else in; no questions asked.

Falco would never hurt a fly. He has this soft, warm gaze in his eyes that never deceives, never hides. They both look after me, us, though they’re just that— two children of war. Gabi carries my wheelchair, now holds the cups the same way we do. Falco tells her to shush whenever his instincts warn him, she’s making me talk too much.

I don’t know, I guess all this was to say: don’t listen to me. Ignore everything that you’ve ever been told. You’re not guilty of any of these wounds. It was never fair of you to take so much ache in such a tiny, fragile frame.

When I talk to myself, I’m not talking to you, did you realize? When I feel this huge pull at my chest, it’s like a part of me is breaking yours apart, as well.

I apologize, Levi.

I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.

It’s understandable, that you run behind closed doors if you hear my footsteps. That my words make you tremble, and you go search for mom under the covers. You’re scared of me. I’m your nightmare. A ghost that paces in the darkness and looms in the corners of your sweet, sweet innocence.

Every punch I received, every slash that left my skin burnt open, it made you bleed. Every time I doubted myself, my own will to fight, I shrunk you. I made you smaller.

I turned into a monster. You search for me in the shadows, in the closet, under the bed. I’m everywhere. I’m all of them. I’m all those who hurt you, when all you needed was a pair of arms to stitch you back together.

I’m worse than the sum of every enemy. Titans, the nobles, the underground thugs who tore you to shreds. They were on the outside. But me, Levi— this pain—, it lives within us. It’s buried so deep, that it stings, and it makes every scrap of us sink to our very core.

I’m sorry. I am. Don’t listen to me, okay? When I talk to myself, every choice that I regret, it’s not about you. It was never about you.

Even so, though, why do I feel this way, then? Why is it that, every time I wanna hurt myself, I can hear you shout? Why is it that, whenever I put pressure on my shoulders, I can see your hands clinging at my sleeves?

I’m here, you’re there. So close, yet so far. And even at that, what I wanted to say is that there’s still hope.

There's still hope for the both of us.

I’m your monster, right? So, if you turn the lights up… remember? I disappear.

I can still recall every last bit you. Tender, naïve, hopeful, happy. So, turn the lights up, you little Levi. I want to look up in the mirror and find you there, looking back at me. I want you to take control. To take over the two of us.

Your voice is softer than mine, it has always been. Your voice can speckle the small, ordinary things in life with threads of marvel. It can create worlds, where days are ever-sunny and the air smells of herbs and tea.

Your voice will bring us home. I’m sure. Your voice will fill it with warmth seeping from its windows. I’ve been a monster too long, little Levi, but you’re still there somewhere. So, scream. Scream as loud as you can. Grow all the huge and all the brave that I could never be, for the sake of us both.

Or be tiny. Be tiny, and precious, and never let this sappy old grump rob you of your wide-eyed gaze.

And don’t believe a word I say.

And do what Gabi and Falco do for me. When I’m too weak to walk, they let me rest my hands on their shoulders. When I’m tired, or grey, or sick, they climb to my bed and tell me stories about kids who fought dragons and saved their loved ones. They’re my adults. They clean my shelves, they comb my hair, they heal this crumpled soul of mine.

You see? Maybe I’m not the adult that you’d wished me to be. I don’t always treat ourselves with kindness. I don’t always forgive ourselves for what we’ve done. So please, please, please, take care of me now. Be my adult, if only for a little while. I’m tired, and grey, and sick. And I need you. I need you like I need Gabi and Falco. I need you like I need mom.

And I’m sorry.

I apologize, Levi.

I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.

But for right now, it’s you who has to show me that there’s still hope in this cruel, yet beautiful world.

That there’s still hope for the both of us.

[sunflowervoltwentyeight]

Happy 28th! Here's my June 2023 fic rec, organized in the order I read them. Enjoy!

Sun Means The Sky'll Be Blue by pearlydewdrops / @moonhusbands (91k)

As the only singleton under thirty attending his cousin's five-day wedding, Harry is desperate to find a date, or at least a reason to get people's questions about his love life off his back. So when Louis, Harry's old uni roommate and fellow wedding attendee waltzes back into his life, Harry seizes the opportunity, pretending Louis is his ex-boyfriend and that it's a sore subject not to be mentioned.

If it's a little bit closer to the truth than Harry would like, well, he's a master at living in denial.

So cue a mess of trudged-up feelings, past misunderstandings, a rekindled summer romance and a whole lot of sexually-charged bickering.

Becoming Us by sweariwouldnt (59k)

Married at First Sight is a television show in which hopefuls looking for The One are matched by experts deeming them to be the perfect match. The twist? They meet each other for the first time at the altar. When they exchange their 'I do's'. And get married for real.

One Harry and Louis find each other at the altar. They have five weeks to make or break the set-up marriage.

Say You'll Remember by whisperdlullaby (93k)

au. louis and harry are best mates that are only half aware that they're also soulmates. alternatively, louis goes to university and harry travels the world, and they always manage to find their way back to each other.

takes place over nine years, in which they love and hurt, make mistakes and learn, and above all, grow.

Heading For Limbo by kingsofeverything / @kingsofeverything (100k)

Childhood best friends who’ve fallen in and out of touch with each other since Louis’ family moved away when they were thirteen, Harry and Louis find their paths crossing again and again. Each time, no matter how many miles apart or how many years it’s been, it’s as if no time has passed. They fall back into their easy friendship, until life intervenes and sends them on their separate ways once more.

When Harry discovers some life-changing things about himself, Louis is there for him, however he needs. But it’s all temporary because Louis has plans that will move his life from New York all the way to L.A. and the distance isn’t the only thing between them.

The pieces of their twice broken hearts are scattered from the Atlantic to the Pacific.

Flash Forward to Forever by akatomlinson / @mason-conaway (73k)

Louis narrows his eyes, wanting more than anything to tell Liam to go fuck himself, but he can’t be sure, is the thing. As much as he knows for a fact that he would never date someone like Harry Styles, he has months missing from his memory. And it’s scary to think that, in that time, everything he’s come to know about himself could have changed so drastically.

Or the one where Louis loses his memory and Harry just about loses his mind trying to win him back (or something)

Sent by the Sun by etherealbliss / @givesuethemoon (53k)

“I know,” Louis mutters, ghosting his mouth over Harry’s pulse point, “that if you’d stop wasting your time with him, if you’d just let me… I could show you so many things. I could change everything for you. There are ways in which you could be seduced that you haven’t even dreamed of, angel.”

At that, Harry breaks.

 In 1970s Los Angeles, Harry is a groupie who aches to feel alive. Louis is the lead singer of a rock band who aches to know him.

Halfway Home by itsmotivatingcara / @itsmotivatingcara (103k)

Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson were improbable childhood friends, much to Harry's dismay. They were thrown together each summer when Harry was forced to visit Louis' grandfathers' ranch in Black Hills, South Dakota. With each passing year their friendship blossomed into something more. When trail rides turned to stolen kisses, and tragedies turned to confessions, until they could no longer deny the inevitable draw they felt for one another.

Though life and their future plans soon set them on different paths.

Ten years later, Louis is the proud owner of Halfway Home Wildlife Refuge. Harry returns to the ranch to escape the perils of his past in London, and though their memories still haunt Louis, he won't let that deter him from his goals. However, someone has been keeping a close eye on the refuge, and possibly Louis specifically, and Harry's return may have unleashed more that just old passions. There's a hunter lurking in the Hills, someone who's decided they've bided their time long enough.

Not That Gone Series by abrighteryellow / @a-brighter-yellow

Hello My Name is Harry (2k) Louis’s 20-year high school reunion takes a turn when a celebrity classmate – who also happens to be Louis’s long unrequited crush – unexpectedly shows up. A famous/not-famous AU inspired by Chris Evans.

Not That Gone (60k)

Around four in the afternoon on day two, Harry was dropping kisses on Louis' chest and heading downwards when he abruptly stopped. “I can move back here,” he said, propping himself up on the mattress with his hands. Louis' eyes popped open and he looked up at him, totally lost. “What?” “For a while,” Harry continued, the idea taking hold. “Hang out with my mom. Work on my script. Be with you.” Louis had already resigned himself to the fact that this weekend was a crack in the space-time continuum that would soon close, sending him and Harry back to their respective, very different lives. It would be a memory that would keep him warm when he was an old, old man – that time one of People’s 50 Most Beautiful had kept him on his hands and knees for two days straight. He wasn’t so stupid as to hope for more. “You’re crazy,” Louis scoffed. Harry’s eyes shone. “Am I?” A few weeks after Louis and Harry, *ahem*, reconnect at their high school reunion, Harry temporarily moves back home. Louis isn't sure he has the emotional fortitude for a prolonged fling with the man of the dreams. For Ten Minutes Straight (1k) Louis has a ritual for when Harry's away – and a good reason for keeping it private.

[momrryficfest]

Seeing as prompt submissions are right around the corner for the next round of the Momrry Fic Fest, we have decided to post a roundup of last year’s fics. Happy reading! We’ll be back sooner than you think. 🤍🕊️✨

With A Little Kindness by jacaranda_bloom / @jacaranda-bloom

The man lays his hand on Harry’s forearm and Harry looks up as the stranger leans in. “I just wanted to say,” he whispers. “Can I cover your bill? I’m a big believer in paying it forward and I can see you’re struggling. It’s none of my business, of course, but I’d really like to help.”

OR the one where Harry is a struggling single parent who doesn’t have time for relationships and Louis is a generous stranger who is unlucky in love, until fate decides to step in and bring them together.

Let Go of a Prayer by abaddxns / @momrryrights

On nights like these, will he be left to tend to the baby while Louis tidies up his mess in the kitchen, or will he be cooking and cleaning while Louis busies himself with the baby? Or babies? Can’t forget Jay’s track record with twins. And if they are graced with multiples or are able to get pregnant more than once, will their first be old enough by the time their little sibling comes along to help do the nightly tidying, or will he and Louis be juggling two under-fives at once?

In which Harry and Louis are happily married creatives who have been actively dancing around the subject of having children for years, but when Harry's itch for having a baby starts to become unbearable, starting a proper conversation on the matter seems impossible.

A Chance? by onlylearsfool / @suesheroll

A meet-awkward involving puking babies and kind handsome strangers. Harry’s heart doesn’t stand a chance against a stranger just asking for one.

in the shallow water, you can swim around me (i won't mind) by enbyharry / @non-binharry

“What’s got you all worked up this morning, princess?”

Louis tickles up Harry's ribs and Harry squirms, slapping his hands away.

"Your little footie players are in here giving their mummy hell this morning." Harry explains. “I could barely sleep so I had a little bath. I thought it was only fair that you give me a hand to lotion myself up.”

“And just where do you want me to rub you down, my love?” Louis asks, an amused lilt to his question. Harry knows that Louis had already figured out exactly what he was really getting at, too embarrassed to flat out say he was horny at 8 o’clock on a Thursday morning. Harry’s libido was going haywire in his final trimester, and while Louis was never going to refuse pulling his cock out to give his baby exactly what he wanted, Harry felt undignified over the reality that he could barely function these days if he didn’t do something first to relieve the aching pressure building just beneath the surface.

“Hmm,” Harry says, tapping his chin, “I think I want you to start… here.”

Most Ardently in Love by softfonds / @softfonds

A glimpse into the newlywed life of the Tomlinsons of Donwell Abbey, complete with a happy surprise.

Where Love Grows by Neondiamond / @neondiamond

When his husband leaves without warning only weeks after the birth of their first child, a struggling Harry is forced to move in with a work colleague and raise his newborn in the desolate, dreary outskirts of London. There, within the walls of a shitty apartment complex, he meets Louis Tomlinson, fellow struggling parent and hopeless romantic.

Don't Go Wasting Your Emotions by princelyharry / @princelyharry

Harry Styles is a feisty, independent man who has been a single parent all his life and doesn’t need any man to fulfill his dreams.

That may change when his twenty-one-year-old daughter, Isabella, suddenly invites her three potential fathers to the island so that one of them can give her away on her wedding day.

As it turns out, Harry doesn’t really know who Isabella's father is.

(or Mamma Mia au)

All I Need by tommokat / @tommokat

Harry’s been dating Louis for a magical three months, but before they can go any further, he has a big secret to reveal.

Enchanted by brightgolden / @brightgolden

“My close friends usually call me H,” Harry mumbles suddenly after Louis wraps up his story.

That’s unexpected. “Are you telling me I’m your close friend now?” Louis quips, squinting his eyes at Harry.

OR

Where Louis finally meets his neighbour. After a few conversations, he begins to realise he is too weak to resist the charms of the new mother and his six month old daughter.

honey, that's alright by enbyharry / @non-binharry

Harry giggles as he reveals what he’s hiding behind his back, shaking the glass jar in front of Louis’ face as the nugs rattle around, flipping from side to side. He feels like a teenager, giddy anticipation to partake in something he shouldn’t be doing, making it all the more thrilling.

"Will you join me?" he asks sweetly, knowing Louis can never deny him.

or

The one where Harry is one hot mama who likes to get high.

All I Want Is You by daffodilsforlou / @polaroidlouis

“It’s been ages,” Harry whispers. The curls tickling the top of Louis’ ear, though a bit higher than he remembers, are familiar enough that any potential awkwardness between them dissolves.

“I know,” Louis chuckles. Although if he closes his eyes - and he does - he can almost pretend it hasn’t been that long.

Until there’s a small, high pitched voice pulling Harry apart.

“Mommy?”

harry has a kid from a previous relationship. he and kit come to stay with louis for a while.

[sombrashe]

Home

this is a repost because my original blog was deleted

relationship(s) graves x reader

content afab gender neutral reader, chubby reader, mentions of deceased parents, childhood friends to lovers, buried feelings, cunnilingus, multiple orgasms

Growing up living next to Phillip you knew he would be whatever he set his mind to. At the age of 16, it was joining the Army. When you found out you are hurt, he promised to stay here with you. Deep down you knew it was just a silly little promise you told each other when you are kids but it still hurt.

What hurt even worse was the fight you two had before he left. You had been sleeping with each other for a few months before he enlisted. You two had a yelling match when he wanted to take things more seriously and you wanted to continue what you are. You are scared to commit, fearful of what would happen if he never came home one night.

You stopped talking shortly after.

Years passed and you continued to remember growing up next to Graves. The man who you thought you would grow old with.

Instead, you sat in your childhood home, your parents had left it for you when they passed. Your knees are pulled to your chest when there was a knock at the door.

Three quick taps

You smiled as another memory popped into your head. One where you both made a knock that the other would always remember. There was no way it was Graves, it was such a common knock. It was probably just another cookie platter or a package.

You opened the door. In front of you was the boy, now a man, from your memories.

"Phillip?" Your voice is small and filled with shock. Last you heard he had moved west when he joined some private militia company. You can't remember the name.

"So you're the reason the lights are one, I thought your parents are awake."

You frown and feel a twinge of despair in your heart.

"They're dead Phillip."

You don’t want to be so blunt but, there was no way he didn't know. Despite your lack of communication your fathers served together so he continued to be involved in your parents lives.

"You spent more time with my parents in letters than I did in person."

You feel a bitter burning in your throat as you look away. Tears welling in your eyes.

"I'm so sorry sugar, I had no clue. Honest."

His hand was on your arms gently rubbing them. You want to push him off just as much as you want to fall into him. You compromise by your eyes betraying you and breaking their watery seal. He gathers you into his arms and walks you inside as he clicks the door shut with his foot. Being this close to him brought every feeling you had buried for so many years coming out in bursts. Happiness, Anger, Lust, and Confusion are the biggest competitors in your heart.

Your eyes start to dry as he gently rubs his thumb across the back of your neck. The movement brings you to another memory from your first injury. You had been learning how to skateboard when a simple trick failed you. You raised your board using only your feet, to which the board landed correctly but your ankle did not. Phillip had been on you in an instant with his thumb gently stroking the back of your neck as he held you close to his chest. The action was how you found out you had feelings for him.

Being this close to him awakens another memory, one which has you squeezing your legs together. Heat slowly rises to your cheeks. You try to push away and he lets you go only for a moment. You look at each other as his calloused hands cup your face. You want to push him away; tell him that whatever you two had was over, tell him that you got over him, tell him to fuck off.

"Tell me you want this.. me, tell me you want me." His voice is strained and if you could look down you'd know why.

You can either lie and demand he leaves or you can give in, the painful ache between your thighs choosing for you.

"I need you."

The moment the words left your mouth his lips are crashing against yours. Teeth are scraped and tongues explore each other's mouth. You have no idea how long the kiss was, your hands tangled in the front of his shirt until your fingers ached. Finally, he pulls away, his pupils blown wide.

"Phillip." You breath, "Phillip, I need you."

He grins at your pleas.

"Tell me what you want."

His accent always seemed thicker when he was like this, moments away from being buried in you.

"I want you to touch me, in every way. I just need to feel your skin on mine."

He reaches for you. Your shirt being raised and thrown off behind you. He cups your breasts in his hands, the fabric of your bra scratching his skin softly. You feel heat rush to the apples of your cheeks, watching him intently. Finally, he frees one from its confinement. It looks awkward from your angle but, to him it is the best thing he's ever seen.

"Even better than my dreams."

You blink up at him, "You dream about me?"

Your words come out strangled as he starts to brush the pad of his finger gently against your hardening nipple. The feeling going straight to your core.

"Every night."

You can tell when he was lying, he will look at your eyebrows when he did instead of into your eyes. You shiver at the insight.

He decides his access to your breasts isn't enough as he reaches behind to unhook your bra. It slides off your arms and you drop it beside you. He leans down, replacing his finger with a gentle swipe from his tongue. You take a sharp breath in.

"Do you still like that? Want me to give you some of that attention I know you've been craving."

You nod and he continues. His lips wrap themselves around your nipple while his fingers found your other one. You run your fingers through his hair as you grind against the air. It was just like you remembered it except electrified. When he pulls away a small strand of spit connects his lips with you and you feel heat rush through your body.

"You think I could feel you? Finger you until you beg for my cock?"

His filthy mouth is exactly as you remembered.

"Yes... Phillip, yes."

You reach down and pull open your button. After your zipper is loared he helps you fully remove your jeans.

"You're gonna need some support, sugar."

He moves you against the door and rubs two of his fingers against the front of your underwear. Your cunt is hot against his fingers. Gently pressing against the fabric he can faintly hear the squish of the slick stain fabric pressing against your soaking cunt. His fingers gathers some of your wetness.

"You're soaked for me. So mad over a fight from so long ago and yet here you are. Your cunt begging to be fucked. Bet you can't wait to have my fingers stuffed inside of you."

You bite down on his bicep and he grunts. Not removing you even as blood gathers and drips down his arm. He pushes your panties to the side and slides three of his fingers inside of you. Slowly he starts to move them. His fingers fit perfectly as he curles them inside of you.

"Phillip... fuck, I love you."

Graves never thought he'd hear anyone say that to him, especially not now with everything he's done. His heart is beating so fast he isn't sure if it is adrenaline or the nerves he was confident he left behind with you as a teenager. With your arms wrapped around him so sweetly as you mumble praises against his rough shirt. He swears he can see a future with you, something he's only ever dreamt of.

"Say that again sugar, please?"

He wants to know which response he would get, another "love you" or some random praise you've been throwing around about his fingers.

"I love you so much. Fuck, please, I'm so close."

His stomach flips and his eyes waver, he needs to make you feel as good as your words left him.

He has to.

This is his new mission. The issues he had back in Las Almas with Task Force 141 and Los Vaqueros are nothing more than a string in the back of his mind. You are his focus right now and he will do anything if it means you say those three words to him over and over.

His fingers flex inside of you, the tips rake against your heated walls. You are dripping for him, your slick is coating his fingers and smearing against your clit. He thrust his fingers, in and out - in and out, as you gasp and shake beneath him. You are the perfect size against him, your face buried in his chest while he has the perfect view of your ass moving with his thrusts. Soon you are coming undone, orgasming as you clench and unclench around his still-moving fingers. Broken mumbles part from your puffy lips, the word love the only one he can make out.

Pulling his fingers from your warm heat he lifts your head. You look so content. You had that post-orgasm smile that always got him heated plastered across your face. He moves his fingers from your chin against your lips. You decide to give him a show. Griping his wrist you slowly lick from the palm of his hand to the tip of his middle. You then took his finger into your mouth hollowing your cheeks as you suck every drop off. You finish each finger before pulling away.

Your smile returned and you swear you can see yourself burned in his reflection with how hard he watches you. He pulls you in for another rough kiss. Your lips against his, your naked core grinds against his jeans. Your brain feels foggy as you rub against the rough fabric. He stops the kiss and pulls away enough to watch your body press against his knee. You look so gorgeous like this, chasing your high using his body. But the way his cock strains in his pants has him pausing your movements.

"Need to be inside you baby, tell me how much you want my cock."

You happily oblige.

"I need your cock Phillip, I need you to fuck me so badly. Need you to fill me up and make me yours."

He groans, eagerly tossing his shirt and dropping his jeans onto the floor. You reach forward to help him pull off his underwear. You salivate at the sight of his cock bouncing against his abdomen. You want nothing more than for it to be in your mouth but you are both so eager. You step as he moves you, your back is now to him and you face the hallway leading to your room. His fingers dance across your side, dipping between your folds. Your body feels so hot against his touch and it takes everything in him not to take you right here in the foyer.

“Take me to your bedroom sugar, wanna fuck you nice and slow until the neighbors are pounding on the door.”

You grab his hand and pull him along as you walk down the short hallway and back into your childhood room. He happily watches as your body moves with each step. Your thighs rub against one another, smearing your slick.

Your old room had been turned into a guest room in your absence so it wasn't the same as he remembered. It doesn't matter to him though, new layout for new memories.

Your hands press against his chest and you lean up for a kiss. He starts to move in but, pauses before reaching your lips. You pout and look him in the eyes.

"You think I could record this, sugar? I haven't seen you in so long and my dreams aren't doing it for me anymore."

Your throat dries at his request. What little moisture you have in your mouth you make up for it in between your legs. He watches your face and unlike him, every emotion could be read.

“You don't have to say yes, darlin’.”

You shake your head, your voice coming out with a husk you didn't realize you had. “No, I mean I do. Yes… you can.”

Your mind races as you think.

“Alright,” he places a hand on your cheek and gestures with his head towards the bed. “Why don't you go lay down and cover up until we're ready.”

He leaves the room and comes back a moment later with your pile of clothes. Placing them down at the end of the bed he goes through his jeans pockets until he finds his phone. It's bulky and it looks like it won't be able to record anything more than two pixels.

“Phillip, that phone looks terrible, how is it going to record anything?”

He looks down at his phone with a small frown.

“Insulting my phone when I'm trying to get ready to blow your mind. Don't worry though, sugar, this bad boy packs quite a punch.”

You purse your lips at his response, doubt still seeps through you. You watch him as he drags the bedside table towards the end of the bed, placing it at an angle. The lamp is unplugged as he uses it for decoration to keep his phone in place. A small book is placed discreetly below the camera to make sure it won’t slip even a little.

“It's on.”

He smiles and places his hands on his hips looking over at you. You smile back at him, your earlier nerves coming back as your heart hammers in your ears. He walks up to you and blocks the camera, placing a sweet kiss against your lips.

“You want me to move?”

You look from his eyes in the direction of the phone and after taking a deep breath you agree. He steps aside and you stare blankly at the camera, not quite sure what to do.

“Why don't you give future me a little show? Something I can watch over and over again.”

He tries to guide you, giving you a few more ideas before you slip the blanket you are hiding underneath down to pile on your lap. Nervously looking over at him you remove the blanket from your lap and pile it to your side. He watches intently as you spread your knees open just enough to feel exposed. You know it isn't nearly enough to show anything but your nerves are overwhelming. You haven't shown anyone yourself in years, a few flings here and there but no one had made you feel the way Phillip did tonight.

"Need you to spread your legs more than that sweetheart, the camera isn't picking up your tight cunt."

You let your head fall back in time with your legs. You hear the pop of your lips parting and it has your breath quickening. You reach out a hand to part your lips. Not looking at the camera makes the process so much easier. You place cautious featherlight touches to your clit. Your breath picks up as your light touches turn into you penetrating your wet heat. The slick sounds of your earlier orgasm amplify your pleasure. Phillip allows you to continue pleasuring yourself, him being off to the side enough to not get picked up by the camera.

“F- fuck.. Phillip.’

Your words are like honey, they seep into his brain and straight to his cock. He gently takes it in his hand and languidly stroks it. He watches as you try to push yourself over the edge, your annoyance etched on your face. Your face is pressed against the sheets as your eyebrows furrow. Your teeth grit as your fingers make a mess of lewd sounds.

“Still can't get yourself off? Even after all these years of practice?” His voice is teasing but, watching you struggle to reach your orgasm has him finally entering the frame.

“Need some help, sugar?’

You grunt, unable to answer him. Your breathing is shallow as you force the hand that was rubbing at your clit to reach out for him. Your hand which is buried deep inside your heat is removed by his bigger ones.

“Let me.”

You gasps out as you felt his warm tongue press itself against your throbbing clit. Your eyes open as you look down at him, your face in perfect view of his phone. You've had partners after Phillip but, they never took the time to make sure you got off, let alone on their tongue.

“Oh god.”

You gasp as you tangle your fingers in his hair. His hair is soft and slightly damp. His tongue works your clit while two of his fingers prod your entrance. your breathing hitches when he finally sunk them inside.

“Fuck sugar, your body makes the best sounds for me.”

You whimper as he scissors open your entrance. He wraps his lips around your clit and gives an experimental suck. This has you reeling. Your back arches and you let out the lewdest moan.

He loves that sound.

Making quick work he sucks on your clit at varying speeds. It doesn't take long for you to reach your second orgasm of the night. Reaching down you yank on his hair as he continues to work his fingers.

“Ph... illip.”

Your words stop him as he pulls away. He kisses up your body, his lips wet with your orgasm and you shiver. He finally reaches your face and he has that grin on his face that he used to get when he was about to fuck you. You place a gentle kiss on his scar before moving to his lips.

“You gonna fuck me now like you promised, Phillip? Give me all the attention you can spare?”

Your voice sounds tired and he thinks about ending the night here and letting you rest. But the way your lips hug his cock as you grind against him has him reaching between you two. Shifting you so you are sideways and facing the camera better he hovers over one of your legs while the other is hooked over his shoulder. You bite your lip trying to hide your face but he leans down stretching your leg painfully. You gasp and try to push him away.

“Keep your face towards the camera, sugar and I won't have to stretch you out again.”

You let out a sigh as he adjusts himself back into position. Taking his cock he rubs it against your entrance and bumps it against your clit a few times before slowly pushing it inside your tight heat. You let out soft moans at the same time. His aching cock throbbing inside of you.

“God darlin’ you feel so good wrapped around my cock like this.”

You rest your cheek on your arm as you fist your hair.

“Baby fuck, I missed you so much.”

He bites his lip as he thrusts, starting slow but the ache spurs him to slam into you. Your body bounces with every thrust to the point your free hand has to grab at your breasts to keep them still.

Invading your senses is everything Phillip. The smell of him lingers on your skin. Biting into the softness you swear you can taste him and you ache for his lips on yours. The sound of his whimpers above you. His sweet sounds bleeding their way into the etching of your mind. The dresser mirror shows you his upper half. His face twists as he watches your every move. You try hard to get a clear picture, something to remember when you're alone thinking about him. The force of his thrusts have your eyesight going in and out of focus.

The moment his finger touches your clit you're gone. You fall completely silent as your third and final orgasm rips through your body. No one has ever made you feel like this before and it was disorienting. White hot pleasure pours out of your cunt soaking his cock as he continues his sloppy thrusts. He comes soon after filling you up with stickiness, his voice breaks with a whine of your name. He leans over you, your leg falling limply beside him.

“Fuck I missed you, I love you, sugar.”

Your eyes close and you twitch slightly under his touch. You listen as he gets up. The scraping of the table being moved back to its position in the room followed by silence.

“Phillip?”

You finally pry your exhausted eyes open to see him grabbing his clothes. Your heart sinks.

“Are you leaving?” You ask sitting up, the blanket from earlier is soon wrapped around your body as anger seeps into your cheeks.

“I thought you didn't want me to stay, you never said anything.”

“That's because you fucked me so hard I'm surprised my brain is still attached to my spinal cord!”

He blinks at you and you watch as red dusts the tip of his ears. “Really? So you want me to stay?”

You nod and reach out for him. He crosses the room and grabs at you. He pulls you against his chest. A layer of sweat covers you both as you snuggle into him.

“You're still mad at me for leavin’, sugar?”

“Very.” You say half heartily as you close your eyes.

“It's gonna take more than one night to sway me, but so far you have a bright future of begging for my forgiveness.”

He chuckles softly as your snores slowly start to fill his ears.

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header made by me :3

[safetycar-restart]

I'm back after a while.. Can we talk about Charles' experiences with his past dom? Because I love doing it in angsty way

Charles always just wanted to be a little happy giggly sub. I feel like he would be so talkative! He wants to share his every thought and thing that happen during the day. He would always talk, his mouth wouldn't close for mere second. But his dom was so annoyed because of this? Especially when Charles started talking during sex. But poor bub just couldn't help it, he wanted to share his every feeling with his dom, he wanted to be a good boy.

Maybe it even got to the point where Charles was gagged. Because he just couldn't not talk, so his dom made him do it. And Charles didn't like it one bit, but he didn't object because he was supposed to be good, right? And when his dom noticed that it worked and Charles stopped talking, he started gagging him on the daily. Just because. And he didn't care that Charles wasn't comfortable and his jaw ached. That the spit running down his chin disgusted him. Because in that 'relationship' Charles wasn't important.

So when he started dating you, at first he was a little scared to talk too much. But he was clearly CRAVING. You noticed it (of course you did), so every time you came home you asked him to tell you about his day. And he was just so happy that he could do that!!! That he was talking and you were listening to him! No disinterest, no 'shut ups' and most important no gags.

I think that it took him a while to start talking during sex. Maybe at first that were just little questions? Asking for permission or if everything is all right? But after some time he understood that you would never punish him for talking, so he started growing more and more confident. You also started initiating conversations when you had sex. Like one day you asked Charles how was his day and he just started telling you everything!! And that day you created a monster. Because it has since become Charles' favorite way of telling you about his day.

You would come back home, eat together and after that, the first thing Charles would do would be dragging you to the bedroom. And then he'd tell you every detail of his day, sitting on your lap, in your arms, riding the strap. Or maybe not even riding it. Just sitting on top of you and warming it. And that would be all it takes to make Charles the happiest subby in the world

- 🪸

No stop this is just too good oh my god. The past experience au with Charles is one of my favourites and this? This is incredible. I love this so so so much. (Calling all Charles anons, we need more of this).

So firstly, of course he wants to share everything with his Dom!! To Charles, the bond between a Dom and a sub goes far beyond just a scene? He wants to tell his Dom everything and be told everything in return. He’s a good boy!! And good boys should always share their thoughts and feelings.

Except his old Dom hated it? At first they seemed to not mind it, but then they started rolling their eyes and not paying attention, eventually just telling him to shut up.

It always hurt so bad, because why… why doesn’t his Dom want to hear about his day? Why doesn’t his Dom want to know if he’s had a good or bad day?

He tries to speak less, tries to only tell his Dom the most important parts. But it hurts so much?

Like he’ll be doing media duties and the team will make him do something ridiculous with Carlos. Instantly he thinks about how he can’t wait to tell his Dom about this, but then his little heart breaks when he remembers his Dom won’t want to hear about it.

Eventually his Dom gets tired of hearing anything from Charles at all, so they gag him. At first it’s just during a scene, and Charles hates it. He wants to talk!! He wants to giggle and tell his Dom that something tickles and ask his Dom if he’s being good and he able to tell them if something is wrong. But now he can’t? Now he can’t talk at all?

But… but his Dom seems happy? For once he’s actually making his Dom happy? Maybe his Dom even compliments how quiet he is, and Charles just feels his heart sore because finally, finally he’s been good.

He can stand the ache in his jaw and the spit down his chin if his Dom is happy with him.

His heart breaks when he has to wear a gag outside of scenes. Maybe it starts when Charles has had a terrible day, so bad that he dares to ask for some cuddles and his Dom says that he can have cuddles, but only if he wears a gag.

Charles always thought cuddles were a chance to catch up??? He thought you cuddled and talked about your days and giggled together. But no. His Dom won’t let him do any of that.

But then he meets you, and he gets to know you and starts dating you and holy fuck he wants to tell you everything! He wants to relay every bit of his day to you.

It’s heartbreaking to you to see how Charles will get all excited and start babbling and then suddenly cut himself up, mumbling apologies for being so loud and then retreating back into himself. It’s even more heartbreaking to see how his entire face lights up when you tell him that you want to hear more.

You will never understand how someone could ever have made Charles feel like he couldn’t talk? He’s really the sweetest little thing out there? He gets so excited so quickly!! And he LOVES sharing his life with you. How could anyone have turned him down?

The moment that really makes Charles so so happy is when you offer to share something from your day? He’s just told you about his gym session, and then you ask him if he wants to hear about what happened at work? He nods so quickly it’s comical, smiling so wide because yes!!! Yes he does!! He would love to hear about your day!! Please tell him EVERYTHING!!!

A little routine quickly forms and he loves it so so much. He comes home and you make him some tea and then he gets to sit on the couch with you, drinking his tea and telling you about his day and it’s everything to him. It’s genuinely the best part of his day.

Often it ends up turning into a scene of some sort? Because of course he dives into your arms when his tea is finished, feeling so happy and small and subby cause he’s catching up with his Dom!!!

Of focuses he’s gonna get hard and wriggly, cause he feels so good and so happy.

He used to get all shy about that, because his old dom used to hate when he got needy and horny like that. But you kiss his forehead and ask if he wants a nice handjob while he carries on telling you about his day.

The poor thing starts crying on the spot when you offer that, because he… he can do that? He’s allowed? He’s allowed to babble about his day AND get his cock played with? All while sitting on your lap?

Formal scenes are a whole other story though, because his old Dom was always so much stricter with scenes. He was only supposed to talk when spoken to, and even then it had to be only one word answers.

Of course he was absolutely terrible at this, hence the gag.

When you started scening with him, he said that gags were a hard limit. He didn’t want gags. Never again. So of course you don’t even consider gags when evening with him.

He tries so hard to stay quiet. He really does!! But he can’t help it. You ask him such sweet questions and talk to him so nicely and make him feel so so safe.

How is he supposed to only give a one word answer when you kiss his forehead and call him beautiful before asking if he’s feeling good? How can he possibly just say yes?

He struggles the most when you tie him? His old Dom only uses leather restraints on him, so it was a very quick and easy procedure to restrain him.

But you use rope? And you take your time to tie him, weaving intricate patterns on his skin that leave him feeling all soft and floaty. The actual tying takes time, and he adores it so much? You let the rope tickle his skin and softly stroke his cock and kiss every inch of skin you can and Charles is in absolute heaven.

It’s so hard to stay quiet then, because he feels so so good and he so badly wants to share that? He wants to tell you how much he loves this, how happy he is, how good the rope feels.

And when you ask him questions, whispering into his ear that you think he looks beautiful and wanting to know if he agrees, he can’t stay quiet!! He can’t!! He’s practically bursting with love and happiness and he must share it!!!

Of course you realise how Charles clearly thinks that he can’t talk to you during scenes, and that breaks your heart because no matter how many times you say he can, he’s still uncertain about it.

Which is why you decide to let him sit on your strap and chat about his day.

You try it after a race weekend where you don’t attend the race? So you haven’t seen him in a few days and so must has happened and he must tell you!!

He’s still very uncertain though, not wanting to bother you with all the details of his weekend. But then again, he does want to!! He wants to tell you everything!!

So he gets home and of course you give him kisses and cuddles, welcoming him back and making him feel so so happy.

You ask if he’d like to ride your strap, he’s overjoyed at that suggestion. It’s been far too long since he got fucked and that’s one of his favorite positions (well actually every position is his favourite position).

So you stretch him out, making sure to lightly run your nails over his thighs because it makes him giggle, and then you sit on the bed, your back against the headboard and help him slowly lower himself down.

Once he’s got the whole strap inside, he stops. He doesn’t try to move, if anything he kinda deflated? He just cuddles into your neck, holding you tight and relaxing cause he feels so nice!!! So full and safe and close so his Dom.

You run your hands up and down his back, turning your head to kiss his hear and smiling when it makes him squeak. Then you ask him if he wants to tell you about his race weekend.

He pulls away, brows furrowed, “Now?” he asks.

You nod. And then he just smiles and dives back in your arms because yes!! Yes he does!!!

He sits on your strap and tells you all about his weekend, babbling away without a care in the world cause he’s so safe here.

Once he’s told you everything he wants to, you flip him over and fuck him nice and hard.

Then for aftercare, when he’s all fucked out and cuddled against your chest, you tell him about your weekend.

[shoutascoffeepot]

Letters Left Unsent - Hawks

My dearest,

I am not sure when I had become so sentimental. When I started growing all those feelings. When it all started, what happened, it all seems like a blur. And whatever the reason behind this memory loss, I am not sure.

There is only a few things I am sure of, though: That I must protect you, no matter what it takes. That is my utmost priority. Protecting civilians comes second now. As controversial as it may be. Or perhaps it is one and the same priority, since you are technically a civilian. Yet to me you always were an angel, a blessing, a person above all that had given me so fucking much.

So much.

I couldn’t ever love you enough, even when it’s killing me with how much I ache, yearn, how much I want nothing less but to show you how overflowing my affections are for you.

Often times I find myself wondering, you were always my home, I somehow always knew. As you saw every part of me, saw through everything, every little thing that I thought would make me ugly, undesirable, frightening, disgusting, you took every flaw and still loved me. Do you still love me? Or have you been drifting away?

You were always my home, you will always be my home. I can never think low of you or love you any less. But I wonder. Am I your home still? Am I still your man? Am I your safe haven too? Or was it all one sided?

It is one thing to find your best friend in your partner, but it is a whole other thing when you meet the person that shows you how to live. Not just breathe and work and be a mere safety tool, as I once was.

This all sounds like I am trying to imitate a british man, heh…

But it is true, all of it.

If I never survived to grow old with you, and see our little nuggets grow and become great, as I know they will be, whatever their aspirations are, not because I am their father but because you are their mother..

If I never got to see them grow, please, I beg of you don’t ever let them forget the love I hold for them, for all of you, how proud I am no matter what happens. I will always haunt you all with the same love and support. The same you, yourself have given during our time together.

And if I do survive to share those moments, to truly share a lifetime so full, it would be an honor, and I would be so grateful for you to let me be the man who stays at your side, to be the man who holds your heart and fills it with love, to give you a happy home.

There is not one moment that passes that I don’t feel this love in a form of ache in my chest, like my organs swell and tears prick my eyes. You showed me love, and allowed me to love you. And I’d be damned if I let it flee away from me. I’d be damned if I let my dream flee away from me.

Sincerely, your Keigo x

[thefairylights]

I haven’t had a day off since last Tuesday and it’s messing with me. Part 3 of my modern Loustat series (because I guess it’s a series now? I had no intention to do this!) will be posted this Tuesday. So, two days from now.

I just wanted to share a rough drafted part because why not? Honestly. It’s sugary sweet fluff but this is the beginning and because I am me, there will be plenty of hurt comfort angst and possible tears (probably from Lestat) later on.

Anyyyywayyyyyyy.

Here’s some fluff. Happy new year.

The snow crunches beneath his boots, and Louis glances up, feeling childish delight in the sight of snow falling down from above him. It steals a smile from him, small and mainly at the corner of his left lip, but it is a smile nonetheless.

Paris is cold and shaken like a snow globe, its lights twinkling all around as decorations from the recent holidays remain to illuminate their surroundings. It’s like a movie, like a hallmark card, like a cozy chapter of a well loved novel. The shimmering icicles twined around tree branches are like diamonds reflecting in the city lights. It’s magical, ethereal, and like a piece of art come to life.

Lestat’s leather gloved hand slides against his, their fingers threading mindlessly, and Louis looks at his companion instead of the winter wonderland around them.

“Am I to be jealous of even snow?” Lestat teases with a smile of his own. His is full blown, gracing his beautiful face, as his eyes, nearly grey now to reflect the weather, light up with delight. “The snow has taken a smile I thought was mine and mine alone.”

Louis scoffs, shakes his head at Lestat and gives his hand a reaffirming squeeze. “You can be so ridiculous,” he scolds. “To compare snow to you? Really? Lestat, you are well over two hundred! Time to grow up!”

Lestat fervently shakes his head, clearly intent upon sticking to this act of his. “That’s my smile, Louis. I’m hurt. Aching. Truly, my heart may have very well finally split from the pain! My chest burns!”

Louis throws his head back and laughs so loudly, the sound echoing all around. There’s no one around on the street, as it is too late and cold and humans are all inside and warm in their beds while the vampires roam.

Cobblestone streets in old Paris. Lestat’s promise is kept. Louis’ just as warm, but all in his chest and the hand Lestat holds. He’s warm and in love and excited to be here, to see Paris this time in better spirits, in a new beginning.

Theirs. It is theirs. It’s all theirs to experience together. It’s Lestat, guiding Louis to places he’s visited in his past, gracefully turning corners and side streets to reach their many destinations. And there are so many! So many places Lestat excitedly shows to Louis, shares with him on this cold winter’s night.

“Wait,” Louis calls out before Lestat can drag him away to somewhere else. “Come here, please.”

Trembling like an overexcited puppy, gives Louis a heartbreaking pout, one that begs to be kissed away. So, he does. Louis leans in, holds onto Lestat’s cashmere scarf between them and kisses him.

“Your nose is ice cold,” Louis whispers against Lestat’s lips. “Like a puppy.”

He laughs as Lestat makes a noise of indignation at such a thing. He laughs and drifts away, lets their hands fall away from one another. Louis laughs, his spirits to high he wonders if this will be the night he finally gains the ability to fly. He swears he could! He swears there is so much joy inside of him that it can very well lift him right from the ground!

“A puppy?” Lestat asks, feigning offense more than feeling it. Louis can tell and the happiness between them grows.

He’s so in love. Louis’ head spins and he’s tingling and sighing, overwhelmed and wanting.

He’s always wanting.

“Need I remind you that I am an esteemed wolf killer?”Lestat asks, lunging to catch Louis before he slips away again. He’s successful, grasping Louis by the elbows, and Louis is grinning ear to ear about it.

“It wouldn’t feel right to say your nose is cold like a wolf!” Louis laughs. He can’t stop laughing! It’s delightful. It’s refreshing. It’s been such a long time since he’s been as elated as he feels right now. “I don’t even know if a wolf has a cold nose. I know about dogs! Besides, you could be compared to something worse? What about a beaver? A mole? A … turtle?”

“Louis,” Lestat grumbles. One, two, three steps, and the toes of their boots touch. “My darling Louis, I am Lestat. I need not be compared to anyone or anything!”

“You are Lestat,” Louis agrees, “and your nose is ice cold and I don’t want it near mine. Keep back, Monsieur Rockstar.”

Lestat chuckles at that, lets Louis’ elbows go in favor is sliding his arms around his waist instead. It’s better, closer, and Louis hums when their chests press together.

The harmonized beat of their hearts forever sends Louis into a heavenly daze. It’s ever present, more now than ever before with the freedom they have found to love one another without secrets and limits.

“Are you excited about seeing my show tomorrow evening?” Lestat asks softly. “I’ll sing for you, Louis. Will you be in the crowd or to my left backstage?”

“Leave it to surprise,” Louis replies. “It’s more fun if you do.”

“I’ll still sing for you, to you,” Lestat says devotedly. “It would be wrong if I did not. My eternal muse. My Louis.”

[kittttycakes]

[blurb] a life in your shape

summary: Hob reflects on a life that could have been, but immortality is not hereditary. 

contents: Morpheus x reader x Hob Gadling, reader x Hob Gadling-centric, she/her reader, third person POV, no use of Y/N, angst (past child loss for both Dream and Hob), 0.9k

notes: written for promptober 2022 “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile,” which I did add to and shift slightly for my own purposes, because this scene wouldn’t leave me alone. just three more left of these, now!

It is the first truly warm day of summer, and Hob has given in and dragged a few tables from storage out in front of The New Inn, giving patrons room to sit out and enjoy the sun, if they so choose. It’s worth a few broken and missing glasses for the increase in foot traffic, no matter how often he complains about it later.

Being busier than usual and down both of the regular servers until the evening means that instead of staying in their flat and working her way through her ever growing reading list, she is also in the pub, running drinks out and empty glasses in. The tops of her shoulders are slightly pink from the sun, and by the end of the summer, the collection of freckles over her cheeks will have darkened and multiplied. Hob is keeping a vague eye on her from behind the bar, not because he worries about her but because she is magnetic: she draws his eye in much the same way that Dream always has. When they are both in a room together, his attention is equally divided; he is lucky that they have begun to stay together when in the same place. Dream prefers a more intimate meeting with less noise and less eyes on the three of them, when he has his choice, although he does stop by rather more than Hob initially expected, and he vaguely hopes he might see him today. 

The windows are open, and he hears the sound of her voice, raised in exclamation, if not her actual words. It wouldn’t be Dream dropping by; although she’s always pleased to see him, she is less effusive in public than she might be in private, for what Hob considers to be obvious reasons, when he considers that most people they encounter already know the two of them are currently engaged. A colleague, perhaps, or a friend from university. He can hear the rise and fall of her voice through the crowd; they must be at the table nearest the front window.

Hob passes by the window after distributing some luridly pink cocktails to a group of young people and glances outside. She is still in conversation with someone - a friend he doesn’t recognize, possibly from her school days - gesturing with one hand as she tells a story. Her other hand is occupied, holding a baby of perhaps six months old, propped against her hip as though she’s done it a dozen times before. The friend in front of her has a stroller parked beside her and is digging through a shoulder bag for some lost item in the depths of it. 

Something in his heart catches and he wants to look away, but doesn’t manage in time. She looks over at the pub, catches his eye in the window, and smiles, as happy to see him as she always is, whether they’ve been apart for minutes, hours, or days. He smiles back, waves slightly, and moves away from the window, nursing a small, dull ache that has never truly gone away. It flares in unexpected moments: seeing a toddler in the park, watching a child hold their mother’s hand while crossing the street, in the sulk of a teenager at the grocery store, but especially here, watching her hold something they cannot have for their own. Immortality, as he well knows, is not hereditary.

Hob, not usually one to wallow, indulges himself for a moment as he brings clean glasses up to the bar, imagines what it might be like: a baby with her eyes, held close to his chest; waiting with arms outstretched for those first steps; baby shoes and toys in the living room and blankets to swaddle at night. It isn’t possible, and he isn’t sure if it’s something he actually wants or just something he misses. He allows himself a moment, and no more, and goes back to work.

By the time the evening crowd begins to roll in, the usual servers have clocked in, along with two additional bartenders, and Hob is able to collect her from outside and gently steer her upstairs for some much needed rest. He collapses on to the couch, pulling her down beside him.

“Good day?” she asks, propping her feet on the coffee table.

“Long day,” he says, arm over his eyes.

She hums, leans over to kiss his cheek softly. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile like that before today. When you saw me, out the window.”

“Smile like what?” he asks, moving his arm and looking at her.

“Like something hurt.” She reaches up, brushes a loose strand of hair back. “Do you want to talk about it?” She has always been perceptive, especially when it comes to him, and she can easily recall conversations they’ve had, about the future, about family, both before and after she knew about who he was, and his eyes looked the same then as they did that afternoon.

He considers it for a moment. She would listen, if he wanted to talk, would allow him to invoke old names, long unspoken. She would not understand that unique loss but she would empathize, and sometimes, that is enough. Today, it is not.

Hob kisses her temple. “Not right now, love.” He wraps his arm around her, holds her close. Later, he will meet with Dream in a version of The White Horse that exists now only in their shared memory of it. He will drink the better part of a bottle of truly exceptional wine that, strictly speaking, never existed in the waking world, and Dream will let him. Although he may rarely choose to allude to his own, similar loss, he will let Hob speak freely for as long or as little as he likes. Dream will understand, and that will be enough.