#sometimes they linger for years and years

[hyunebunx]

💝 with jisung 🤭

˖˙ ᰋ ── 💝- 'a sudden kiss to catch the partner off guard'

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. genre: fluff

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. a/n: manaa <33 i hope you enjoy this as much as i loved writing it <3 thank you sm for requesting!

It wasn’t a rare occurrence to drop by and find your boyfriend creating, brainstorming for another song while strumming his guitar or tapping a pen on the table to the rhythm created in his head. Inspiration struck at the oddest of times, not giving him a break no matter how spent or exhausted he was. And you had to understand – when the creative juices were flowing and he was in the zone, nothing and absolutely nobody mattered until he finished the song.

You find yourself in his room, sitting across from each other on the floor as you’re listening to your boyfriend go on and on about this new idea of his, strumming random chords on his guitar as he struggled to find a note he was satisfied with.

His fluffy brown hair bounces everywhere as he talks, glasses dropping a little too low on the bridge of his nose as he hasn’t raised his head from the instrument since you came in, half an hour ago.

“I’ve had this melody stuck in my head since yesterday but I can’t seem to get it out.” He hums, in hopes you might recognize it or help him somehow. He’s out of luck because truth be told, you stopped listening ten minutes ago.

You loved his creativity and passion but sometimes, like right now, you just needed his love and affection and Jisung has been too busy to notice.

“How about a snack?” You ask, standing up to which your joints thank you joyfully.

Jisung mumbles a quick ‘yes’, granting you his attention for a split second before he’s back to his guitar, hunched over in concentration.

The house is empty except for you two, with Jisung’s roommate, Minho, away on a family trip. You’d never thought you’d miss his loud and over the top laughter but now, when your boyfriend was barely paying you any attention, its absence pains you. You never realized how lively Minho kept things around here – you need to show your appreciation when he returns.

You linger longer than necessary in the kitchen, preparing snacks and drinks for the both of you before shuffling back to Jisung’s room, thankful the door was left ajar with how full your hands have gotten.

The moment you step inside, Jisung’s head snaps up with the most endearing smile stretched across his face, glasses a little bit crooked. “Baby! I got it! Hear me out, please!”

His happiness lights up the room in such a way that almost blinds you, his smile contagious and making it hard to resist the urge to smother him with your love. Jisung has never given you a warning, for if you got one, you might’ve prepared yourself better before falling head over heels in love with him. Though, you can never prepare for these things. Love sneaks up on you the moment it finds an opening, when your guard is down and the last thing you expect is being hit by cupid’s arrow, right in the heart.

Looking back, you don’t think you ever stood a chance. You were doomed from the start, when Han Jisung walked in the room you were in, a few years ago, laughing loudly with the previously mentioned roommate. Your heart has been his ever since, the sound reeling it in and never releasing it.

He’s babbling on, excited, as you set the plates down on his dresses, making your way towards him with a newfound purpose. When you lean down to get his attention, he tilts his head up with a dazzling smile, still talking and oh so unsuspecting of your next move.

Without warning, you peck his lips, causing the words to die on his tongue as he freezes, reflexively kissing back the second time your lips meet even if his brain hasn’t caught up yet.

“Sorry,” you whisper against his lips, his mouth agape in surprise as you stare right into his hazy eyes, “you looked too adorable, I couldn’t help myself.”

The loud sound of the guitar tumbling out of his grasp startles you, and you look down in concern while Jisung doesn’t even seem to notice, too enthralled to care. Your kisses always had that effect on him, and he’s sure they’ll continue to do so no matter how many years pass. You had him wrapped around your little finger after all, the victim of the spell your love cast on him the moment he set eyes on you.

“Ji?” You shake his shoulder lightly before crouching down to return his guitar. “The song, baby?”

“What song?” Is the first thing he manages to let out, clearing his throat as he finally comes to.

You giggle, and that’s all it takes Jisung to set the guitar aside and pull you to him by your waist, cushioning your fall as you collapse onto him before his lips are on yours again, kissing you passionately.

For a moment there, he forgot his own name. How was he supposed to remember whatever song he came up with when you used your evil powers to steal all of his attention? Though, he supposes you can’t steal something that’s always been rightfully yours…

[nina-ya]

A/N: i was a little sappy writing this one ngl idk I just love law so much LMAO Pairing: Law x reader CW: none, mild backstory spoilers if you squint WC: ~800 Other versions: Luffy Zoro Sanji Law (more to come) • masterlist • ko-fi • discord server •

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Loving Law is not easy. It’s not supposed to be. He’s all sharp edges haphazardly taped and glued together, just waiting to fall apart at a moments notice. Every glance feels calculated, like he’s already three steps ahead in some mental game of chess that only he knows the rules to. But once you become a part of his life, once you’ve proven that you deserve his trust and care, you’re under his protection in ways that you may never fully understand.

Loving Law is falling in love with the ocean at night. It’s unpredictable, dark, but there’s a certain beauty in the unknown that is him. He won’t admit it, but he will always catch you before you fall. Not because he’s trying to be a hero, but because losing anyone else is something he cannot quite handle. His love comes in the forms of subtle checks such as a quiet “don’t overexert yourself,” a lingering glance that asks if you are okay, or a warm coat tossed your wat in the middle of a cold night. He’s practical, pragmatic, but never indifferent. 

Loving Law is accepting that he doesn’t need to be saved, but sometimes he will let you stand beside him as the waves crash over him. He will let you in just enough to feel the weight that is constantly pushing down on him, but never so much that you think he’s burdening you. But you’re there to remind him that being strong doesn’t mean carrying everything on his own. 

Loving Law is loving someone who sees the world through a lens of strategy and survival. His love doesn’t come with flowery speeches or romantic gestures- it comes with an almost obsessive need to keep you alive. He ensures you have what you need and he never asks for thanks. He doesn’t need it. 

But then when you break through those hard walls he had built around his heart from loss after loss, you get to explore a much more vulnerable side to him. You get to learn about the despair that he has been put through, all of the rough battles he has fought to get to this point, everything that makes Law, well, Law. It’s not easy for him to do, and you can see this in the way he chooses each word carefully as if they may betray him. But when this does happen, you realize that there is a strength among the vulnerability, a wordless trust that comes from knowing that you wont use it against him.

And when he opens up, even if its just for a moment, you realize that he is not just giving you his trust, but he is giving you everything. Every piece of himself he thought was lost, every part of him that he thought was too broken to be loved, it’s all there, in the space between his words and the look in his eyes. And you couldn’t be more grateful to be the one he shares it with.

Loving Law is knowing that it may take some time to get through to him, but when you do, its more than perfect. There is a heightened intensity in the simplest of gestures such as the way his fingers graze over yours, the warmth of his hand resting at the small of your back, or the way that he presses his forehead against you staring into your eyes with a look that screams ‘i cherish you’ without having to utter a single word.

When his lips finally meet yours, its as if the whole world screeches to a halt. There is no rush, no frantic urgency, just a slow deliberate tenderness as if he is memorizing every inch of your mouth, the softness of your lips. The way he tilts your chin up, deepening the kiss with an inhale as if he needs to breathe you in. His hands are firm, one cupping your face while the other rests on your waist, keeping you close to him. His hands, calloused from years of battle, move with a surprising softness when he’s with you, as if he’s afraid of breaking something precious.

Loving Law is finding safety in vulnerability. It’s the knowledge that while he may keep the world at arms length, he lets you in piece by piece until he allows himself to be fragile in your presence. It’s the softness that only you see in him, the way his hands tremble slightly when they brush over your skin, the way his lips can express so much in the soft presses against yours, the promise that despite all the loss he has endured, he will never let you go.

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

Gold Rush

Dieter Bravo x Female Reader

Rating: Teen. Summary: It's the day after your husband left you, Dieter still remains, is his presence and support the reason why you feel okay? Warnings: pov switching, pining, fluff, comfort, marijuana use, champagne, drunken feelings, confessions using a taylor swift song, pizza Words: 5,330

A/N: Golden Girl and Dieter have not left my mind since I wrote them. I couldn't believe how much @almostfoxglove's gorgeous moodboard (see above) that she created with my prompts of "Dieter x adoration x gold" matched my ideas for the follow-up sooo I wrote it out. I hope you enjoy.

Previous Chapter Masterlist

***

You’re awoken by a grumbling snore and a solid heat pressed against your cheek. Your tired eyes blink open and are greeted by a faded wine stained heather gray chest. Dieter.

For a split second, there is confusion, a moment of panic flickers through you. Then it all comes back to you–the heartbreak of yesterday. 

The flood of emotions, the tears, Warren’s cold, unblinking blue eyes as he told you he’d fallen in love with someone else. No remorse. Just the simple truth, delivered in his same steady voice he’d use for his clients, as if your marriage now meant nothing. And then he was gone, walking out of the door you’d painted his favorite color green. Then, your shaking hands calling the only person you knew who would be there for you. Dieter. 

You don’t know if it was the exhaustion of your marriage ending or Dieter’s body against yours, but you haven’t slept that deeply in years. 

Now, you gently pull away, your gaze lingering on him as he sleeps. Fluffy, tousled hair fans across the pillow, his parted plush lips gently percolate out snores. The lines of stress and mischief that crease his face are much gentler and relaxed in his slumber. The sunlight peeking through the curtain casts a golden strip across his face that turns his skin amber and his dark hair almost hazel. 

You usually don’t allow yourself to stare at him like this, constantly fighting the pull you’ve always felt towards him, like an invisible string that keeps getting tangled and knotted. That night in the dive bar–years ago–kissing his whiskey soaked lips, feeling the deep rumble of laughter left against your lips when you finally pulled away. You could have had him then. 

But you didn’t. You were too enamored by his handsome blue-eyed friend. Warren. 

Warren, who said all the right thing, who made you believe everything you wanted to hear, even if half of it was lies. You feel so idiotic.

Dieter’s breathing is steady, his broad chest rises and falls keeping time with the soft hum of his snores. The gold hoop of his earring catches the light. You’ve been enamored with it since that first night you met him all those years ago. A forbidden ring held within his ear, you always wondered how it felt, to be able to freely touch him. Sometimes your hand would reach for it, before your eye would catch the glint of your wedding band. Forbidden, off limits, you’re kept by someone else. 

Now, no longer answering to anyone, you let your shocking newfound independence make you happy for once. It’s just you and him, lying in the middle of the bed you bought from Pottery Barn with your ex-mother-in-law, and for the first time you don’t feel guilty for looking at him. 

Slowly, almost reverently, your hand hovers over his ear, feeling the soft brush of his hair as you softly pass your finger over the metal ring, a connection to the feelings you’ve always had for him. You pull your hand away, too scared to let the emotions long-held for him take place in your heart. 

“Dee,” you croak, your voice is rough from sleep and all of the tears shed from yesterday. 

His eyelids flutter open, chocolate brown eyes blinking open, soft and unfocused before crinkling at the edges as a yawn stretches across his face. 

“Hey,” he murmurs, his voice low and groggy. The warm smile he gives you makes your broken heart begin mending itself right then and there. 

“It’s almost noon.”

He yawns again, his large hand brushing over his face as he props himself up. He slowly comes to life, a haze of sleep still lingering in his eyes. 

“Shit, almost noon huh?” his voice rasps deep from sleep. “You okay?”

A simple question, one that you’ve been asked so few times the past few years as your marriage has grown stagnant and lifeless. You nod, though not entirely sure of your answer. 

“I know it was a rough day,” he says, sympathy pouring out of his voice. “I-I’m glad you called me.” 

“I am too,” you whisper. 

Dieter shifts, propping himself up on one elbow, his gaze stays on you. “Warren’s an idiot,” the firmness of his voice surprises you. “He never deser–”

Right then the loud growl of your stomach interrupts. 

“When’s the last time you ate?” he asks, pulling away from you. 

“Uh, lunch yesterday?” It hadn’t even occurred that you’d gone that long without food.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t even think to see if you were hun–“

“It’s okay Dee,” you quickly reassure, “I don’t think I could’ve even eaten anything yesterday.”

He studies you for a second, his gaze softens. “Well, I make a mean bowl of cereal or I can order us breakfast if you want something more serious.” 

“Cereal’s good.”

He stretches and sits up. “Coming right up,” he says, standing and moving to the door. 

“You don’t know where anything is!” you call after him.

He pauses, turning back. “That’s never stopped me before,” he winks, causing butterflies to plume in your stomach, the kind you haven’t felt in ages. 

The clattering of cupboards being rifled through finally makes you extract yourself from bed. 

“Dee!” you shout as you walk down the hall, “I’ll grab everything!” 

You send a quick glimpse into the bedroom you used to share with Warren as you tie your robe tighter and head downstairs. 

The sun is glaring through the open curtains, yours and Dieter’s phones lay silent on the coffee table. Nobody knows. Warren said it was your decision over who you want to tell. How chivalrous. 

“Hey,” Dieter greets you with a smile, as he puts the milk on the counter. “I found the milk and spoons.” 

You shake your head, moving around him to pull two bowls out of the cupboard. 

“You put the coffee on at least, that’s most important,” you say, grabbing the box of cereal from the pantry. “All I have are Corn Flakes.” 

—

The domesticity of it all is not lost on him. Dieter sits next to you at the breakfast bar happily munching on his corn flakes covered in three tablespoons of sugar. 

He’s had this dream so many times before. Bright sunlight shining through the kitchen window above the sink that overlooks the garden you take so much pride in, coffee in the light blue mugs with the little birds you were so proud to find at the antique store off of La Cienega, the sound of you eating and just quietly existing next to him. He never wants to wake up. 

The first thing he saw today was you, your voice was the first thing he heard. It’s not a dream, it’s really happening here, in this home you used to share with his best friend–or–who used to be his best friend. Warren probably doesn’t even know he’s here, that he was the one you chose to call and to be consoled by. Too oblivious and self obsessed to realize that all these years Dieter’s been secretly in love with his wife. How could he not fall for you? 

He glances towards you, wanting to tell you everything in his heart, only choosing the most obvious statement. “I’m here for you, you know that, right?”

“I know Dee, it means… a lot, but you don’t have to be here, I’m okay… really.”

“Trust me, I want to be here Sweets,” he knocks his shoulder against yours. It’s just about the only physical touch he can trust himself to make. He wants to hold you through all of this, keep your body as close to his as possible. Shield you, go to battle for you, be your soldier. All he can afford is a singular shoulder tap. 

“You’ve never given me reason to not,” you sigh. 

He never wants to let you down, never wants to make you feel like you’re less than deserving of the whole world. He just has to wait. Good things take time.

“What do you want to do today?” 

“Not sure. Definitely get out of this robe and into some actual clothes.”

He thanks his lucky stars, as much as he loves you in the fluffy robe, his heart can’t take the brief glimpses of your upper thigh or chest as the fabric swishes across your body. “Do you want me to grab your clothes for you?” 

“No, I-it’s gotta happen sooner than later… i-it’s weird, I know he just left me and everything, but–I don’t know Dee–it’s been not fun being me. Here, cooped up in this house just waiting for my husband to decide to like me and spend time with me. You know?” Your shoulders deflate, he gazes at your crestfallen side profile, still so beautiful even when you’re heartbroken.

You take a swig of coffee, he follows the lines of your delicate neck as you swallow the liquid down. Your skin is always so beautiful, but in this light, it transfixes him. “This is the fourth time he’s cheated on me.” 

He coughs at your confession. His brows rise in surprise, he never knew about the others. “I-I had no idea,” he murmurs. His heart drops, how fucking dare Warren.

“We didn’t let it be known, I couldn’t deal with–anybody knowing and them judging me. He’d come back, and swear he would change. Why do you think my wedding ring kept getting bigger and bigger? He’d get me something shinier every time he’d fuck someone else… like I’m some sort of crow wife.”

He snickers, you’re still the funniest girl he’s ever met, even when you’re talking about your piece of shit husband. 

“And now, NOW he's found the one. All those times I’d let him back, he told me I was the only one for him.” Tears sprout in your eyes. He thinks of all those years you’ve wasted, all those lies you believed, and now, you’re left just as empty as your cereal bowl. “I feel like a fool, he’s been cheating on me for almost a year with her. I just sat idly by, ignoring all of the cracks in the foundation, all of the same signs I had seen before, he’d call me crazy. I guess a person can only be gaslit for so long before they burn up. The house has been crumbling for the past few years, and I just kept thinking maybe it would change… and the cracks just got bigger until… he left. Now I’m left here trying to rebuild and trying to figure out what I did wrong.” 

“Nothing,” he says, his voice firmer than he intended. “You did nothing wrong. Warren’s always been the ‘take what I want when I want’ type. It’s him, not you.”

You solemnly nod, eyes staring unblinking at your spoon swirling in the milky white expanse of your empty cereal bowl. “And I just had to fall in love with him. I feel so foolish.” Your voice floats into his ears, flowing down to his heart squeezing the organ that pumps only for you. 

“Hey,” he whispers, “I’ve been best friends with him for almost thirty years. If you’re a fool, then I’m one too.” 

You look at him, his eyes meet yours. He offers you a small smile that you return with a nod. You’re sweeter than the cereal milk he just got done slurping out of his bowl.

“Well,” you sigh, tapping the counter and breaking the miniscule moment of understanding. “I can’t do any more of this sad stuff today. I can’t be miserable all day. II know what I want to do tonight.”

“Oh yeah?” he asks, raising a curious brow. 

“Yep. Drink,” you sigh. “Like, a lot.” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah. I want to forget, just for tonight… and then tomorrow I’ll have to deal with all of the bullshit.”

He doesn’t mention to you that the last time only the two of you drank together, his marriage to Anika had just ended. Now it’s a tradition. “I can help with that. Do you need me to go grab some booze?”

“Nope,” you hop off the barstool and pad over to the wine fridge. You bend over, he strangles his napkin when he gets a glimpse of your upper thighs before he looks away. Not right now. 

You pull a fancy looking bottle out of the fridge. “We were supposed to have this for our tenth anniversary. Some dumb expensive bottle of champagne he bought while we were on vacation in France.”

He grabs it from the counter top, eyebrows rising at the fancy label.

“Wow. Thirty-five year old Bollinger, huh? That’s the stuff the queen drinks.” “Of course you’d know that,” you tease, rolling your eyes as you put the champagne in the fridge. “I’m gonna clean up, hop into the shower and change. I don’t know if you want to head to your place and grab some clothes?”

He looks down at his stained shirt and pajama pants he’s been wearing since he woke up yesterday afternoon. He wasted no time in changing when he got the call from you. He could certainly also use a shower. 

“If you’re okay with me leaving for a bit,” he hesitates. 

“I am, really Dee,” you assure. “I’m going to head upstairs. Come over around five?”

“Five works,” he smiles. Hating the rush of nerves he feels of spending another night only with you. 

“You’re the best Dee,” you smile. 

He doesn’t know whether to shake Warren for leaving someone like you or thank him as he deposits his bowl in the sink and grabs his keys and phone. 

—

The master bedroom is just as it was left yesterday, besides the empty side of Warren’s closet and vanity. How kind of him to move out while you’re left crying on the couch. You were his wife for eight years. Over three thousand days of marriage. A mortgage, two cars, three credit cards with unspent reward points, multiple bank accounts. God, there’s so much to do. 

Not today. 

Today you’re going to push down these terrible feelings, today you’re going to focus on the future of what can be once you trudge through all of this. Today you’re going to spend the day taking care of yourself and then tonight, you’re going to get drunk with your friend Dieter. 

The gold frame on your bedside table catches your eye. Ah, your Australia trip last year, a surprise excursion from Warren. You’re pretty sure he was talking to her while the two of you explored the outback. You thought that trip was the beginning of something new and better for the two of you. It only took a week after your return home for him to start working late and having meetings in other states again. 

You love the frame that holds the picture of better days with Warren, you found it at an antique store Dieter told you about. You’ve always loved vintage decor, Warren always preferred brand new, he never liked the idea of “other people’s trash littering his home.” You open the back of the frame, pull out the photo, and crumble it in your hands before setting the empty frame back on the table. One day, it’ll hold a picture of true happiness—one day, there will be someone else to smile with.

You shed your robe and drop it in the hamper before standing in front of your mirror. You look the same, really. Only thing that might give away your husband left you are your eyes that sit a little redder and puffier and your naked ring finger. 

A glance at your phone shows a couple of missed texts and calls. Nothing important. Still no word from Warren. You feel foolish for expecting anything more from him. 

All the tears you shed yesterday suddenly feel ridiculous. All those tears fell for a man who could barely be grown enough to check on how you’re doing today. You’ve read of slow burns in romance novels, but what about a slow snuff? Where your marriage just gradually dies, suffocated by indifference, until Warren’s selfishness finally snuffed it out. There’s a sense of freedom now, like you no longer have to lie to yourself. Now you just have to figure out how to move on. 

You scroll to the playlist Dieter sent you a few weeks ago, smiling to yourself at the realization that as your marriage fizzled, your’s and Dieter’s friendship grew warmer. You turn the tap on as the first song plays. 

'Round your city, 'round the clock Everybody needs you No, you can't make everybody equal Although you got beaucoup family You don't even got nobody bein' honest with you

Frank Ocean. Your’s and Dieter’s shared favorite. Warren can’t stand him, of course. When Dieter got tickets to a Frank Ocean concert, Warren spent the night rolling his eyes while you and Dieter screamed lyrics, danced under the strobe lights, and passed a joint back and forth. Anika and Warren stood behind you both, glued to their phones, ruining what should’ve been an unforgettable night with their sulking.

You laugh out loud to yourself at your stupidity. Why did you stay?

The shower feels good and refreshing. You scrub your skin with your favorite body scrub and use your favorite conditioner you buy from the boutique next to your favorite cafe. It’s now up to you to take care of yourself and to show yourself love. Lord knows it’s pretty much been that way for the past year. 

Dieter’s playlist plays on. Every song on it you like, he never lets you down.

“You will remember When this is blown over And everything's all by the way When I grow older I will be there at your side to remind you How I still love you”

Your hands pause at the lyrics as you rub lotion across your skin. You wonder what Dieter’s thinking, what he’s thought this whole time, why he speaks to you the way he does. He’s always been such an open book, but ever since his divorce with Anika a few years ago, he’s been less readable. Your mind is crowded by the feelings you have for him, the way you liked waking up next to him this morning, the way you wish he’d never stop holding you. 

You remind yourself to go shopping for some new clothes, to fill the newly acquired empty space in your closet. You find the bright robe hanging in the back of your closet. A just-because-gift from Dieter because you mentioned it had all of your favorite colors. He texted you a photo of himself getting ready for an awards show, and you pointed out how much you loved it. He handed it to you the next time he saw you with a shy grin. You try to remember the last time Warren gave you a random gift as you wrap the soft cotton around your body. 

You admire yourself in the mirror remembering the way Dieter’s dark brown eyes lingered on you after you put it on. The small smile he blessed you with as he softly murmured “perfect.”

The clock reads 2:30. Just twenty-four hours ago Warren told you he’s no longer in love with you, that he had found someone else. You swallow the sadness, not today. 

For the first time in a long time, today you’re going to allow yourself to look forward to something–and somebody. Dieter will be here soon. 

—

He knocks on the side door three times before letting himself in. His usual Dieter entrance. 

“Sweets?” he calls out, his voice echoing through the house. 

“Hey!” you respond, quickly trudging down the steps. 

He almost drops the pizza box on the floor, along with his jaw when he sees you. 

“Great minds,” you smile looking down at his faded blue jeans–the same color as yours.

“Yeah,” he nods, “great minds.” He swears you’re his twin flame, except he burns even brighter for you. He hopes one day your heart will burn just as hot for him. 

“Prime Pizza?” you excitedly say spying the familiar box from your favorite pizza place. 

“Yep, also got you garlic knots,” he smiles, lifting a white takeout bag up. “And caesar salad. And vodka pasta.”

“Oh my gooooood,” you sing, grabbing the pre-rolled joint and lighter from the table. “You’re the best. Let’s eat outside.”

His heart feels like it’s going to leap out of his chest as he follows you through the french doors to your backyard. It’s a beautiful, warm evening. You’ve set the table already, the sun is just beginning to lower behind the mountains, bathing everything in golden and purple shades. 

He can’t take his eyes off of you as you light the joint and take a hit. He feels ridiculous relishing the fact that his lips will be where yours just were as you hand the joint to him. 

Music gently plays in the background and you hum along while opening the takeout boxes and filling your plate. 

“Oh my god, this looks so good,” you gush, smiling at him. “Thanks Dee.” 

Weed smoke, garlic, and laughter fill the air as the two of you share a meal.

He wishes to never wake from this dream. 

—

You always loved this neighborhood at night.  The winding hill overlooks downtown Los Angeles and all of its flickering traffic and brake light glory. Street lamps glow golden in the midnight haze. Dieter walks alongside you, keeping tempo with your steps growing clumsier the emptier your champagne bottle gets.

“God, it’s beautiful out,” you say, tilting your head back to gaze at the sky focusing on a singular star. You wonder what it sees as it looks down on you. Does it see the internal struggle within your heart? Your husband walked out on you yesterday, and you’ve already found solace in his best friend. Peace in the heart and mind of the best man at your wedding. 

“Ooh! Grass patch! Grass patch!” you suddenly shout, running over to the grassy area just off to the side of your neighbor’s home. “Come look at the stars with me!” 

Dieter follows, laying down beside you with a small huff. 

“I love doing this,” you say wistfully. “Like it’s so big, and we’re so small. You know?” 

“I do,” he says. “Someone in Antarctica has the same view we have. Isn’t that insane?”

“Yes!” you shout, knocking your knee against his and leaving it there. “Sometimes it’s so easy to get lost in the vastness of space.”

“It is…” he softly says.

You turn your head to find him not looking up at the stars, but right at you.

“Hi,” you giggle, a little nervous from the look in his eyes. 

“You’re– I think you’re–-” he grumbles and turns to look back at the sky shaking his head. “I wonder how many satellites are recording our conversation right now.” 

You follows his lead, turning back to the sky, wishing on a star that some day you’ll hear what Dieter really wanted to tell you.

—

He listens as you softly hum into the breezy night air. A pleasant smile is stretched across your face, your eyes sit a little hazier from the bottle of champagne that you’re holding by the neck. 

You stop, bobbling back and forth on your feet. He grabs your arms, steadying your wobbly form. You’re much drunker now thanks to your impromptu stargazing and drinking adventure in your neighbor’s yard. 

“You good?” he asks.

“Yes *hiccup* just–haven’t felt this free in awhile,” your body thuds against his chest. His heart goes into overdrive. “Like, GOD, it fucking sucks, but also like, fuck Warren, he didn’t deserve ME.”

He wants to tell you how much he agrees, he wants to pour his rapid beating heart out to you in the middle of this quiet neighborhood. He doesn’t, you’re going through enough, and he respects–nay–loves you far too much to divulge his years-long secret devotion to you. 

“Yeah,” he chuckles. “Fuck Warren.” 

“Fuck Warren!” you giggle. “God that feels good.”

“FUCK WARREEEEENNNNN!” you shout, your voice echoing off the canyon walls. 

“Whoa, whoa, okay okay, it’s too late; let’s not wake up the neighbors, pretty girl.” 

His throat closes at the slip. Panic grips his body. 

You take a swig of your champagne. 

“Pretty?” you turn in his arms. “You think that— I”m pretty?” 

Your beautiful face and those eyes of yours, the same he thinks about waking up to, is lit by the full moon, glistening in the nighttime glow. You’re so gorgeous. 

“Always have, Golden Girl,” he sees the line drawn and he steps over it. He’s famous for not listening, for saying it fuck it to the plainly written out rules. “You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.” 

Your throat lets out an unbelieving laugh. “D’awww, Dee thinks I’m pretttttyyyyyyyyy,” you sing-song, swaying in his arms. 

“Alright now, you’re pretty far gone. Let’s get you home, pretty.”

“Dieter Bravo finds me pretty. I’d say Warren’s going to be sooooo mad, but FUCK WARREN!” Another battle cry against your husband echoes across the neighborhood. 

“Shhhhh,” he wraps his arms around you tighter, turning you to walk back up the road to your home. 

His arms stay around you the whole walk up the hill back to your house. He can smell the sweet scent of your honey shampoo. Your back is molded to his front and yet, the lust for you doesn’t course through his veins like it normally does. There’s something else. Adoration, longing, yearning. His need for your heart overshadows his want for your body. Your footsteps commingle with his in the quiet Los Angeles night. 

Your house comes into view, the white picket fence surrounds the colonial two story that you fell in love with. “Dee! It’s a Jimmy Stewart house!” you excitedly shouted when he pulled into the driveway after you and Warren got the keys. He was so happy for you, and yet so jealous of Warren. Now he walks you up the walkway to your door. Now he punches the code in on the keypad and lets you in. Now he catches your arm as you almost trip over the rug. Now he holds you close as you giggle against his chest. Too drunk and bubbly, he wishes he could keep you this happy. 

“Dee?” you tilt your head up to look at him.

“Yeah?” his eyes meet your bleary eyes. 

“Is it okay that I’m this happy right now?” your voice drops, the shame in it slurs it even more. 

“Any emotion you have at this exact moment is okay,” he reassures with a smile. 

Your body jumps against his with a hiccup. “Oh my god, I’m so drunk!” you giggle.

“You are. You need some food and a glass of water.” 

He’s only allowed himself a couple sips tonight, not wanting to get plastered and not be there to take care of you in case you need him. He can’t remember the last time he didn’t say no to a drink. 

He settles you on the couch before heading to the kitchen to find you some sustenance to soak up your drunkenness. 

Saltines, you always have saltines. You swear that cheddar cheese on saltines is the greatest food ever, he loves how passionate you are about such a ridiculous opinion. He fills the biggest glass with water from the fridge before adding a couple cubes of ice, he knows how much you love your ice water. He likes taking care of you, he likes trying his damnedest to make you feel better. He wishes he could take care of you every single day and prove to you just how special you are. 

He almost drops the glass of water and sleeve of crackers when he walks into your living room. 

You’re perched on a small island of carpet surrounded by records strewn across the floor. He was gone for only three minutes and you’ve already emptied two entire shelves. 

—

You’re holding a single LP in your hands and staring down at it. Track three. The song that makes you think of Dieter. 

“Can I play you a song?” you look up, your bloodshot eyes gaze determinedly at him. 

The record player sizzles and crackles an ambient hum while awaiting his answer.

“Of course,” he says, walking over and lightly tapping a trail of records out of the way with his foot.

You tilt your head up and nod, before turning and putting the record on the turntable. Your hands tremble as you lower the needle into the groove for the track you want him to hear. 

“It makes me think of… you,” you whisper as the song begins. 

Gleaming Twinkling Eyes like sinking ships On waters so inviting I almost jump in

He settles across from you, cross legged, joining you on your island in the sea of scattered vinyl. Just you and Dee in the middle of your living room. It was only twenty-four hours ago he held you as you mourned the loss of your marriage. 

Now, he sits quietly, elbows resting on his knees with his chin resting on his thumbs, listening to the song. The song that makes you think of him. 

Everybody wants you Everybody wonders what it would be like to love you Walk past, quick brush

You’re too brave, the champagne has given you too much permission to bring up those long held desires for your husband’s best friend. If you had chosen him that night in that dive bar, would everything be different today? 

His eyes are closed, oblivious to the turmoil that storms within your heart. 

What must it be like To grow up that beautiful? With your hair falling into place like dominoes My mind turns your life into folklore I can't dare to dream about you anymore

He slowly nods along to the beat, the golden earring in his ear catches your eye again. Your fingers pulsate, the bare ring finger on your left hand allows you the permission. He’ll feel it now, he’ll understand, he’ll know of your desires. 

You reach out, your shaky hand makes contact with his soft hair, and the earring. His eyes open wide and shocked at your touch. 

Gleaming Twinkling Eyes like sinking ships On waters so inviting I almost jump in

“Oh, Sweets,” he whispers as the record crackles in between songs. His hand captures yours, pressing it against his head. “I–it’s—you know–”

“I know,” tears well in your eyes, “but I’ve known.” 

He thickly gulps, swallowing down the words you long to hear him say. Instead, he moves your hand to rest against his heart.

“You are every–he never deserved you and I’m sorry I didn’t say it any sooner. I’m a coward–but–I’m going to do better for you. It’s— you have so much going on. I will be here for you, but I can’t do that to you… not now.”

“What if I want it? What if I’ve wanted it since… we met?” 

He smirks. “I want it too–but not like this–not so soon.”

Your head drops, suddenly you feel quite sober. Embarrassment will do that. 

“Sweets,” he whispers. “Look at me. You’re my Golden Girl. You have been. Always.”

Your eyes stare into his, his glassy brown eyes reflect yours, tears welling at the edge.

“That's the blank, unholy surprise of it. You're the golden girl, Sweets. Full of life and warmth and delight.”

He gently pulls you closer, settling you on his lap, wrapping his arms around you. 

“Of course you’d use my favorite movie to make me feel better,” you say, settling your head against his broad chest.

“I’ll do anything to make you feel better, Golden Girl.”

He holds you, gently rocking back and forth to the music until the record ends. 

That night, you sleep in that same guest room bed, wrapped in Dieter’s strong arms, protected from the spiral of negativity you’ll soon wake up to. 

[tealottie]

What are your headcanons about Della?

I have so many, but tbh my favorite headcanons have to do with her having PTSD - so i can't promise this will be a fun post

MASTERLIST OF DELLA HEADCANONS BELOW:

Appearance:

Scars from the Moon

One across her beak on left side

Scars on her arms and legs

Other markings

Stretch marks especially on her tummy and butt

A few stretch marks on her chest and thighs

Freckles on her beak (because she had triplets and ducks IRL sometimes get freckles after pregnancy)

Other

Chubby pear shape

DD cup size

Squishy belly

Big eyes

Fluffy unkempt feathers (she's bad at preening)

Thin hair (also bad at taking care of it)

Short beak

Queer Headcanons:

Homoromantic

Bisexual

Prefers to just call herself a lesbian

Ciswoman (doesn't mind they/them pronouns and probably finds it entertaining if she's referred to as he/him)

Supports all of her queer babies

She also does not actively seek out romance, but she isn't offput by the idea entirely

Mental Health and Neurodiverse Headcanons:

PTSD

Hates being alone at any given moment and had to ask Donald if she could room with him in the houseboat for a few months

Genuinely cannot look at her reflection and will be needing exposure therapy

Does not like the feeling of movement underwater because it reminds her of the moon's gravity

Terrified that she'll never be fully capable of being a mom because of the 10 years she missed

Cringes at any moon or space themed items now - sometimes triggers her on a bad day or if she looks at them for too long

Her hair being too long is a trigger for her, so she always keeps it shoulder length or above

She ALWAYS feels cold even if her body temperature is normal and sometimes it drives her crazy

Lots of nightmares about what-ifs - what if it was my kids instead of me, what if it was my brother instead of me, what if i didnt have oxychew, what if i never met the Moonlanders, etc etc etc

The taste of black licorice will genuinely send her spiraling, and because it lingers - it wrecks her for days (she hates similar flavors such as rootbeer)

Finds a lot of joy in warm places so she now loves to be out in the sun

Had a period of time where she wasn't really talking with Penumbra because of the severity of her triggers/ptsd

Both finds peace in dead silence, but it also brings her back to the moon as well - she has a very complex relationship with isolation

Prefers silver over gold (even though she doesn't wear jewelry, she likes silver on others and silver on things such as zippers and buttons)

Spent quite a few years terrified of flying after the horror of her own trauma set in, but it threw her into a big depression since piloting is her passion

Hates taking care of her stump because she doesn't like taking her prosthetic leg off - she sees it as her own, so she hates taking it off even though she knows she needs to when sleeping or showering

She has a hard time looking at her stump and scars because on one hand; sick as hell battle wounds, but on the other; damn was that the worst time in my entire life

Depression and Anxiety

Even before crashlanding on the moon, she dealt with depression and social anxiety

She has a bit of a hard time keeping her room tidy and taking care of herself, but she's phenomenal at putting other people first

Feels as though she's not attractive enough

Wants to be a ray of sunshine in other peoples' lives

She's very scared that she won't be enough for people and therefore she must put 110% into everything she does for others

ADHD and Autism

Her sensory issues tend to directly conflict with her PTSD issues - like she hates silence because of the moon, but sometimes she gets overstimulated by noise and needs the silence or alone time

She does not sleep until her body physically passes out because the change in activity is hard for her to deal with

Goes insane if she feels understimulated because her brain begins to shut down and she dissociates

Many, many stims (sometimes doubles as grounding with PTSD): bouncing her leg, various hand motions, feeling the fabric of her clothes, physical affection with her loved ones, playing with the tightness of her prosthetic (loosening and then tightening it over and over), shaking her head to feel her hair around her shoulders (and solidifying that what she's feeling is earth gravity)

Really hard time understanding social cues that makes her come across as rather ditzy

Special interest in aircraft technology and was a top student at her flight school

Love/Hate relationship with reading because if she enjoys what she's reading she gets invested, but if she's understimulated, the words jumble together in her mind

Not good at math for a similar reason

Fish are a huge sensory nightmare for her; the scales, the smell, the taste, etc

Is generally pretty sensory-seeking, but has a few Hard Nos on textures (such as slimy scales)

Other:

I headcanon Della having compulsive sexual behavior disorder, and her libido especially spiked after being on the moon for 10 years, and it makes her feel really gross at times

Due to said hypersexuality, she gets intrusive thoughts that piss her off

Because of the moon not really having a clear indicator of night and day, Della lost her circadian rhythm and struggles with a Hell combination of non-24 and ADHD insomnia

The lack of general sleep makes it hard for her to lose weight and so she's insecure about that

Physical Disabilities:

Because she was on the moon for so long, the zero gravity and lack of proper breathable oxygen took a huge toll on her, physically

She developed really bad asthma and will likely be recovering from it for the rest of her life

Her lungs can only intake so much oxygen at a time, so she also struggles with shortness of breath

Upon returning to earth, her body was really broken down from the cold atmosphere - causing her to not be able to regulate her body temperature properly

Her bones were weakened upon arrival, so she has to spend years recovering physically from it

Her stump is irritated a lot because she doesn't like taking care of it properly

She owns crutches for when she needs to take breaks from her prosthetic just because of the discomfort when wearing it

She is not afraid to hit Donald with a crutch BTW

IF THERE ARE ANY OTHER SPECIFIC HEADCANONS THAT YOU ARE CURIOUS ABOUT, SHOOT ME AN ASK! <3

[milkbobatyun]

till death do us part

pairing: jiaoqiu x gn!reader

genre: fluff, angst

summary: your dream was to be a healer, his was just to follow you, so how did it end up this way?

word count: 1.1k

a/n: wrote this before 2.5 was released (because i loved him the moment i saw his release) , this is just my own headcanon about why jiaoqiu "withdrew from medicine with a broken heart", hope yall enjoy (,, . ̫. ,,)

for as long as you could remember, a certain, teasing pink furred foxian stuck to your side like a burr. he followed you everywhere, like a shadow, though the jiaoqiu then would protest otherwise. he was your protector, he would huff, cheeks puffed out in indignation.

sometimes, jiaoqiu led you through the warbling creeks and rustling bushes, on a mission to help you find herbs. other times, you led him by the hand, playing general and soldier in the streets. the locals knew, if they wanted to find either of you, spotting the other half of the duo would often lead them to the person they wanted.

your childhood aspiration was to practise medicine and become the best healer, while his was more simple-minded. he just wanted to follow you, to be with you.

“to the ends of the planet?” young jiaoqiu’s head wobbled forwards and back fervently in agreement. “but what if i die?” hearing those words, jiaoqiu’s busy hands froze, eyes growing comically large, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. his soft ears flattened against his head in displeasure, sticky fingers reaching out to pinch your baby fat. “no! stop thinking like that!” he chided.

your tinkling laughter hugged his fluffy ears. “im just kidding, no need to look so worried.” you dismissed easily, turning back to sorting your herbs. 

jiaoqiu’s nose crinkled as he looked down at the pile of bitter-smelling herbs, before his shoulders slumped in despair. they all looked the same, how was he ever going to learn them all?

seeing his face, you quietly chuckled into your hand. 

“silly goose!” you teased. “you dont need to study medicine if you find it so hard.”

jiaoqiu pouted, feigning sadness at your teasing, tail drooping sadly towards the floor, a frown surfacing on his face. 

he only hoped that there wouldn’t come a day that he would regret not taking up medicine.

the wintery cold lingered in the air, jiaoqiu’s sensitive nose picked up the hints of the scent. time had flown by quickly, his initially small and pudgy figure shooting up to an unfair height, his face sharpening, growing into those classic foxian features. it was down right injustice really, how such a man had a wonderful and pleasing face as his.

though you didn’t realise it, your own height had lengthened too. if you asked jiaoqiu, you looked as striking as your youth, if not even more. every time he saw you, his heart would beat quicker. your touch sending sparks flying on his skin, the warmth lingered after your hand was long gone.

jiaoqiu could only thank the aeons that his ears were not the colour of a tomato, though he doubts his soft cheeks could say the same. whenever he saw you, a cloud of red dusted his cheeks.

the loud, red firecrackers boomed in the courtyard of the yaoqing. cheers of joy and sobs of relief echoed behind.

today was the graduation of the yaoqing healers. after so many years of hard work in the pollen and dust filled cabinets of the yaoqing medicine storage, you were glad to be out of the stuffy old place. 

though jiaoqiu didn’t outwardly express his joy like you, his secretive smile and curved eyes told enough of his happiness. he was proud of you, fearlessly taking on every challenge learning medicine had thrown at you and creating your own solutions.

when you eagerly ran up to him, he engulfed you in his warm embrace, one tooth-achingly sweet grin from you cracking jiaoqiu’s mask, a suppressed grin of amusement and adoration surfacing from beneath. with your signature clap and handshake, the two of you made your way home, you skipping along the path, while jiaoqiu sauntered behind you, listening to your cheerful chatter.

how did it end up this way? it was supposed to be a routine round…

you were merely assigned to patch up wounded soldiers. so how was it that you were now bloodied, clinging to that thinning thread of life?

the rain poured down, a witness to the tears of jiaoqiu. his arms cradled your fragile body close to his chest, his warmth a campfire that roared against the encroaching cold.

the droplets slapped across your cheeks, a harsh reminder that you were clinging onto the edge of consciousness. the world was a blur of rain and darkness. you were vaguely aware of a warmth pressing against your cheek. you peeled open your tired eyes, trying to gain a sense of where you were. last you remembered, the encampment had been attacked.

“jiaoqiu?” you whispered out feebly, the words barely escaping your lips, which were slowly turning blue. “im cold. i feel so cold… i think im bleeding somewhere, it hurts...” you nestle in towards jiaoqiu’s warmth, seeking warmth as the cold seeped deeper into your bones. “you’re warm…” you trail off, the chattering of your teeth drowning out the rest of your words. your thoughts began to fade away, slowly bleeding out, like the blood from your wound.

how did it end up this way?

jiaoqiu’s trembling fingertips frantically tapped against your cheek, eyes wide with fear and desperation, in an effort to keep you awake.

you blinked up weakly at jiaoqiu, focusing your energy on staying awake. “jiaoqiu?” you meekly called out. “you look better when you smile, smile for me…please?” you pleaded quietly.

through the raindrops and tears that coated his face, jiaoqiu tried to smile, the corners of his lips twitching into a sad smile. seeing him give you a feeble grin, your face mirrored his, a shallow smile etched on your face.

‘if only i knew how to stop the bleeding…if only i learned, instead of giving up halfway, maybe i could be more use.’ jiaoqiu thought bitterly to himself, scorning his own stupidity.

with an effort, your shaking hand reached up towards jiaoqiu’s face, cradling his cheek. “dont be sad, smile for me. thank you for being with me.” you whispered.

“please dont leave me.” jiaoqiu pleaded, his voice cracking with sadness. “we still have so much to do. you’re gonna be ok.” jiaoqiu chanted the last 5 words like a mantra, a prayer that the aeons turned a deaf ear to.

the surrounding din of the world faded away, your life playing back before your eyes. you thought of all the moments you had shared with this sly foxian, wishing for just one more day, nay, even a second and you would be satisfied. but jiaoqiu was here, holding onto you and that was enough.

a final sighing breath slipped from your lips, your eyes losing their spark. your hand fell away from his cheek, head lolling to the side. in death, you were serene, a faint smile on your face—an angel taken too soon.

the rain fell harder, as though the heavens themselves were mourning your death, while jiaoqiu bowed his head, tears cascading like a waterfall of sorrow.

taglist (open): @yeonjunsfox

∧,,,∧ ( ̳• · • ̳)  © curated with love by milkbobayun 2024 / づ ♡

[morose-melodies]

Before Pantalone became a harbinger, he was a servant. Before breaking his way into the gates of wealth, he was nothing more than just another face. But to noble-born you, he was the love of your life. You two would even sneak kisses behind the tall doors of your manor, and the windows to your room had always been left open for him.

Ultimately though, you could not stay together. The bourgeoisie loving the proletariat? Unheard of. The mere thought of it could bring a bitter taste to an aristocrat’s tongue. And that’s exactly what happened with your father once he found out. He immediately fired young Pantalone, and due to your father’s status, he was able to make sure Pantalone would never find a job within nobility again. And you too were thoroughly punished.

The last time you saw him, he was shivering due to the Snezhnayan frost, and you were cozied up in your huge fur coat within the walls of your carriage. You wished for nothing more than to swap places with him.

It’s been years since then, your family’s gone bankrupt, and you’ve all been shunned from nobility. But the Northland bank business has been booming, and there’s a familiar face within the snow that surrounds the bank. You would’ve never thought that it was your Pantalone.

The next time you’d see him, was when you had been shivering because of the cold. All your furs, jewelry, and clothes had been stripped from you to pay for your father’s debt. But now, Pantalone had been wearing a stylish fur coat, seemingly commissioned just for him. You two could only stare at each other. You were in disbelief, whilst he seemed less shocked, more pitying than anything.

You couldn’t believe that the once young, naive, doe-eyed boy that used to stare at you like you’d hung the stars has now aged into the older, cynical, slit-eyed man that now stares at you and your family like you’re a bunch of wild dogs. He offers to help you out of your.. predicament; his hand stuck out for you to grab. And like the ever-trusting person you are, still believing that the boy you once knew was the same, had hopped at the opportunity to take his hand. Unfortunately for you though, he’d only offered to help you. (Didn't expect this to be so long T_T rushed towards the end tho cus i got eepy)

I AM SO IN LOVE W UR WRITING

THIS IS SUch a good scenario tyty

things have gotten better since then.

well, that's how it seemed anyway. you could understand why he didn't want to help your family, and though you wanted them to be just as happy as you were, there was nothing you could do about it.

you had begged him to help your family for a while but he never budged - he didn't see the problem with not helping them. they had never done anything for him, they did nothing to deserve his help, but you deserved it.

things seemed too good to be true with pantalone - his manor was beautiful, the house staff were nice and he had a beautiful garden that conveniently had your favorite flowers.

things seemed too good to be true.

your closet was filled with clothing that seemed oddly familiar, oddly reminiscent of the old clothing you once wore, clothes that fit oddly well. your shampoo smelt just like the one you once had. rings pantalone had bought you without any prior knowledge of your measurements fit very well. and each night, just before falling asleep, you could hear your favorite song playing throughout the manor.

things seemed too good to be true.

and things were too good to be true. it had never crossed your mind that pantalone had been overly kind, it never crossed your mind that perhaps pantalone had an ulterior motive.

because why would you ever assume such a thing of him?? he had only ever been a sweetheart to you, in the past and present but... it had been a lingering thought in your mind these past few days due to a few... odd encounters with pantalone.

you would catch pantalone staring or he would stare a few seconds too long, his touches lingered longer than they ought to, and sometimes odd things would slip, such as him mumbling about how 'he couldn't imagine being without you again' and how serious he sounded or when he asked about your relationship with the gardener, saying the two of you had been oddly close and how he'd 'hate to have to fire him' since he was such a diligent worker.

pantalone had changed.

but, perhaps, from the beginning, he was different; perhaps from the beginning, he had an ulterior motive in mind.

[elysiaheaven]

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑 𝐋𝐈𝐋𝐘-(𝐒𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐥)-𝐉𝐢𝐚𝐨𝐪𝐢𝐮 𝐱 𝐅.𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫-(The Fox's Wedding Sequel!)

@kianasflowers Banner credit!

Mentions of Gorey descriptions! Beheading descriptions

Dear Mei,

I realized that the village I'm in needs my help, I just remembered everything. Sorry for not replying for.. a couple of years?

I hope everyone is fine and well! It's a long story how I ended like this. But, I hope I will be able to see you again.

I really want to meet all but I can't! I have to save these people so, Maybe I'll die.

My location is the Xianzhou Luofu, If you want to meet me. You can! But I don't know how I'll be by the time you come or this letter.

Maybe dead, a corpse.

Or Alive, Helping people.

I hope that man who calls himself god wouldn't win...

Hey Mei, Will you get me some new kimono and a seed of the sakura tree? If I died. Place it beside my grave.

If I live...

Present day

The days in Yaoqing were quiet but heavy, filled with both healing and the lingering shadows of your shared trauma. You and Jiaoqiu spent much of your time indoors, a small, humble home nestled in a quiet corner of the village. The walls that held you both felt both like a sanctuary and a cage, protecting you from the outside world while reminding you of the isolation brought by your injuries.

You struggled with your mobility, the pain in your neck and feet making every step a reminder of the glass shards and the torment you had endured. Walking was a challenge; sometimes, even the simplest movement felt like an insurmountable task. And Jiaoqiu—his blindness had taken away much of his independence, and though he tried to adjust, it was clear the world felt different to him now, unfamiliar and unforgiving.

Cooking had become a trial for both of you. You would attempt to stand by the stove, wincing as you leaned against the counter, trying to prepare a simple meal. But even that was difficult. Your body protested with every movement, and Jiaoqiu—once so self-sufficient—was now struggling to eat due to the severity of his internal wounds. Spicy food, which he had once enjoyed, now caused him immense discomfort, his body rejecting the heat as it tried to heal.

There were moments of despair, moments where you both felt as though the weight of your past was too much to bear. The nights were particularly hard for Jiaoqiu, plagued by vivid nightmares that left him trembling and drenched in sweat. You would wake to the sound of his ragged breaths, his body tense with the horrors that played out in his mind.

Jiaoqiu stirred in his sleep, his body tense as the nightmare took hold. His breathing quickened, his chest rising and falling unevenly, trapped in the throes of a memory turned twisted and nightmarish.

In his dream, the air was thick with the smell of blood, the sound of clashing metal, and the sight of Hoolay standing before him, blade in hand. Jiaoqiu was bound, unable to move, his limbs frozen as he watched helplessly. You stood on the ground before Hoolay, your body bloodied, your neck exposed—ready for the final blow.

"No…" Jiaoqiu gasped, his voice hoarse, barely able to form the words. His throat tightened, his heart pounding against his ribs, desperate to stop what was about to happen.

But the scene continued, cruel and unrelenting. Hoolay's lips curled into a sneer, eyes dark and unfeeling as he raised the blade high above your head.

"Don't do it!" Jiaoqiu screamed, his voice breaking. But Hoolay only laughed, cold and merciless, the sound echoing in the empty space.

You turned to face Jiaoqiu, your eyes wide, filled with a strange, unsettling calm. Blood dripped from your wounds, your body trembling, but your lips twisted into a smile—a horrifying, broken smile.

"You did this," you whispered, your voice filled with a mix of sorrow and accusation. "It's your fault I died, Jiaoqiu."

He shook his head, eyes wide with terror. "No… No, I didn't mean for this to happen!"

But you only laughed, a haunting, echoing sound that filled the air. "Of course, you did. You were too weak to save me. You let this happen."

Tears streamed down his face as he struggled against the invisible bonds, desperate to reach you, to stop what was happening. "I tried! I tried to save you!"

Your smile widened, grotesque and unnatural, your eyes hollow, as if all the life had been drained from them. "Too late," you hissed, your voice turning sharp, venomous. "You always fail, don't you?"

Hoolay’s blade descended swiftly, and you didn’t flinch. You just stood there, still smiling as the sharp edge came down, slicing through your neck with sickening precision. The sound of flesh tearing and bone cracking filled Jiaoqiu’s ears, louder than anything he had ever heard before.

"NOOO!" Jiaoqiu screamed, his voice raw, his throat burning as the world spun around him. He couldn't bear to watch, but he couldn’t look away.

Your head rolled from your shoulders, hitting the ground with a heavy thud. Your body crumpled, lifeless, the blood pooling around you, a stark contrast to the eerie smile still lingering on your severed face.

Jiaoqiu sobbed, shaking uncontrollably, as Hoolay’s mocking laughter rang out. "Look at her," Hoolay taunted, kicking your head towards Jiaoqiu's feet. "Look at what you let happen."

Jiaoqiu was paralyzed, his mind broken, the sight of your dismembered form seared into his brain. Your head lay inches from him, eyes still open, still staring at him with that unnerving smile.

"I’ll never leave you," your voice whispered, even though your mouth didn’t move. "I’ll haunt you forever… You deserve this, Jiaoqiu. This is what you made me."

Jiaoqiu screamed again, his heart tearing apart as your words echoed endlessly in his mind. "I'm sorry… I'm sorry…"

But in the nightmare, there was no escape. Hoolay stepped closer, blade dripping with your blood, his grin widening. "You failed her once," he sneered, "and now you’ll keep failing. Over, and over, and over again."

Jiaoqiu's hands clutched at his head, unable to bear the torment. "Please… stop…"

But the nightmare only deepened. Hoolay raised the blade once more, aiming it toward Jiaoqiu this time, his voice cold and final. "It's time for you to join her."

It’s your fault. You let her die.

In the nightmare, your voice echoed, twisted and unnatural, as you stood over him. Headless, your body loomed, holding your severed head in one hand. The blood dripped slowly, pooling beneath you, and your lips—still smiling—moved, whispering something too familiar.

“Jiaoqiu." your voice rasped. “They’ll stuff us both in the secret box… of the goldfish.”

Jiaoqiu’s heart pounded violently in his chest. The words made no sense, but the terror they filled him with was overwhelming. You stepped closer, head dangling from your fingers as if it were nothing more than a toy. The smile on your lips widened, grotesque, and your dead eyes locked onto his.

“They’ll put us together," you continued, "inside that box. You and me… forever.”

Jiaoqiu couldn’t move, couldn’t scream. His body felt frozen, paralyzed by fear. His hands trembled, desperately trying to claw himself out of the nightmare, but it was useless. You bent down, pressing your headless body against his, your cold, bloodstained hands grabbing him, holding him tight.

“We’re going together,” you hissed, your breath cold against his skin. “Inside the box… together.”

He screamed, finally breaking through the silence, but it didn’t stop. Your grip tightened, your bloody fingers digging into his skin, pulling him into the darkness.

Suddenly, the world seemed to collapse. Your body went limp, falling to the floor in a heap of broken limbs. And then, with a chilling whisper, your head rolled toward him, your mouth still moving as it spoke: “It’s a nightmare, Jiaoqiu… Wake up!”

The words jolted him, and Jiaoqiu woke with a gasp, his breath ragged and uneven. His body felt heavy, drenched in cold sweat, his heart still hammering against his ribs. He blinked, expecting to see the comforting glow of light in the room—expecting to see you beside him.

But there was nothing.

Only darkness.

For a moment, Jiaoqiu’s heart stopped. He blinked again, harder this time, trying to adjust his eyes to the blackness that surrounded him. But no matter how many times he tried, no light came. It hit him then, like a punch to the chest: the Tumbledust poison. The nightmare had faded, but the reality remained.

He was blind.

The room felt suffocating, the weight of the darkness pressing in on him, as if the nightmare hadn’t fully let go. Jiaoqiu's breath came quicker, panic rising in his throat. He reached out, his trembling hands searching the bed, the space beside him where you should be. But all he found was emptiness.

“Where… where are you?” he whispered, his voice shaking, as his fingers frantically felt the sheets, the pillow, the empty space. His hands moved faster, desperate to find you, to feel your warmth. But there was nothing.

Jiaoqiu’s mind raced. You were there, he thought. You were right there.

But all he could feel was the cold emptiness of the bed, the sheets crumpled beneath his fingers, his touch finding no trace of you. Fear crept up his spine, his chest tightening with every second that passed.

“Where are you?” he whispered again, louder this time, his voice tinged with desperation. His hands moved in every direction, reaching for the space around him, the nightstand, the floor, anything that could prove you were still here.

Jiaoqiu’s breathing quickened, and panic clawed at his throat as his hands frantically searched the bed. His voice trembled, his desperation rising. "Where are you?" he whispered, louder this time, his heart pounding in the oppressive silence. His mind was spinning, trapped in the darkness, unable to find you, unable to escape the terror gripping him.

Just as he was on the verge of screaming, of losing himself completely to the fear, he felt it—arms wrapping around him from behind, warm and gentle. The familiar scent of you washed over him, grounding him in the present.

“It’s okay,” you whispered softly into his ear, your voice calm and soothing. “I’m right here.”

Jiaoqiu froze, the tension in his body slowly ebbing away as your warmth enveloped him. He exhaled a shaky breath, his heart still racing but slowing, his panic easing.

“I couldn’t sleep,” you continued, your voice a soft murmur. “So I stepped out for a bit. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

He was still trembling, still uncertain if this was real or another nightmare. The darkness made everything uncertain. He mumbled, barely able to form words. “Come… kiss me. So I know it’s really you.”

You shifted, moving in front of him, and your lips brushed his—soft, familiar, real. Jiaoqiu exhaled in relief, his body relaxing against you. He clung to you as if you were his lifeline, his grip tight and desperate.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered against your lips. “I didn’t mean to… I didn’t mean to doubt you. I… I was so scared.”

You smiled softly, stroking his cheek. “It’s fine,” you whispered, kissing his forehead gently. “It’s okay. I’m here now. You’re safe.”

You cradled Jiaoqiu, feeling his breathing slow and deepen as sleep finally claimed him, you tried to follow him into that same restful darkness. But something was wrong. Even in the silence of the night, whispers crept into your ears, soft at first, but growing louder with each passing moment. The voices of countless souls, pleading, moaning, begging for peace.

Their cries sent a chill down your spine. You squeezed your eyes shut, holding Jiaoqiu tighter, as if his warmth could shield you from the cold weight of their voices.

"Help us… free us… give us peace…"

The words wrapped around your mind, echoing endlessly. You could feel the souls crowding around you, unseen but close, their desperation pressing in on you from all sides. Your heart raced as you gritted your teeth, willing the whispers to stop, but they only grew more insistent.

You buried your face against Jiaoqiu, your grip tightening, as though if you held on tightly enough, they wouldn’t be able to touch you. His steady breathing was the only thing anchoring you to this reality. But the voices wouldn’t stop. They wanted something. They needed something from you.

You tried to block them out, tried to convince yourself that it was all in your head. But the feeling of their presence was too strong, too real. Your hands trembled as you clung to Jiaoqiu, your breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps.

"Release us…"

Your eyes shot open, the darkness around you feeling suddenly alive, shifting and moving with the weight of the spirits. You didn’t dare look. You couldn’t. The fear was too overwhelming, too paralyzing. The souls weren’t leaving you alone. They were here—right here.

Your teeth ground together painfully as you forced your eyes shut again, but the whispers slipped into your mind like cold fingers, clawing at your thoughts. You held back a sob, trying to breathe through the terror.

Jiaoqiu stirred slightly in his sleep, but he didn’t wake, his exhaustion keeping him under. You envied him. You wanted to escape into the same peaceful darkness, but the souls wouldn’t let you. Their demands grew louder, their voices overlapping into a cacophony that threatened to drown out everything else.

You gripped Jiaoqiu so tightly now that your arms ached, your body tense and shaking. You could feel the tears welling up behind your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. Not here. Not now.

But sleep would not come for you. The souls kept you trapped, their whispers pulling you deeper into fear, into the knowledge that you couldn’t help them. You couldn’t even help yourself.

And so you lay there, eyes closed, teeth clenched, shivering in the darkness, too afraid to sleep, too terrified to let go.

[caplanbuckybarnes]

Loved You Then, Love You Now (Jason Todd)

Summary: he's always loved you.

Warnings: fluff

WC: 660ish

Read on AO3!

--

The streets of Gotham were quieter than usual. You and Jason strolled side by side, hands stuffed into your jacket pockets to fend off the evening chill. It had been years since you two were kids, running around the old neighborhood, getting into trouble, and chasing after your dreams. But even now, nothing had really changed between you—well, almost nothing.

"You remember when we used to come here?" you asked, looking up at the park where you and Jason had spent countless afternoons, swinging from the rusted playground equipment and daring each other to climb trees.

Jason smirked, glancing over at the worn metal slide. "Yeah, I used to push you off that slide all the time."

You bumped your shoulder against his playfully. "You were such a brat."

Jason chuckled, the sound deep but soft. "Still am, depending on who you ask."

The two of you walked in silence for a bit, memories floating in the air between you. It was nice, just being with him like this. No Red Hood, no danger—just Jason, the boy you’d grown up with, your best friend.

But lately, things felt... different. You’d catch him looking at you longer than usual, and sometimes, his hand would brush yours like he was about to hold it but thought better of it. The tension between you both had grown unspoken, something unsaid lingering in the air.

Finally, you decided to break the quiet. "Jay," you began, your voice soft, "I've been thinking."

"Uh oh," Jason teased, but there was a seriousness in his eyes as he looked at you. "What's on your mind?"

You stopped walking and turned to face him fully, the weight of the words you were about to say pressing down on you. "Do you ever think about... what we could have been?"

Jason’s expression shifted, a mix of surprise and something unreadable flashing in his eyes. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," you hesitated, biting your lip, "we’ve been through everything together—school, growing up, even losing you for a bit—" You swallowed the lump in your throat. "I’ve always felt like there’s something more between us, and maybe we’ve just been too scared to admit it."

Jason looked away for a moment, his jaw clenching like he was fighting something back. Then, he turned his piercing blue gaze back to you, his voice lower and gentler than you'd ever heard. "I’ve loved you since we were kids."

Your heart skipped a beat. "What?"

Jason took a step closer, his hand reaching up to gently cup your cheek. "I’ve loved you since we were kids," he repeated, his thumb brushing softly against your skin. "I just never thought I deserved you. Not with everything that’s happened. But I can’t hide it anymore."

Tears pricked at your eyes, but you blinked them back, too overwhelmed by the confession to speak. He loved you. He always had.

You let out a soft laugh, almost disbelieving. "Why didn’t you say anything sooner?"

Jason smiled, that crooked, charming grin that never failed to make your heart flutter. "I was waiting for the right moment. But I guess there's no ‘right moment’ in Gotham, huh?"

You shook your head, grinning through the tears threatening to spill. "No, there isn’t."

And then, before either of you could say anything else, Jason leaned in and pressed his lips to yours. The kiss was sweet, soft, and so full of the love that had been building for years. It felt like coming home.

When you finally pulled away, Jason rested his forehead against yours, a rare, genuine smile on his face. "Always thought I’d have to fight some villain for you," he joked softly. "Turns out, the real battle was just telling you how I feel."

You laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him close. "Well, I’m glad you finally won, Jay."

Jason held you tighter, whispering into your ear, "I’m never letting you go."

-

tags!

EVERYTHING PERM: @nekoannie-chan @kjs-s @notyourtypicalrose @mistressofallthingsgeeky

DCEU PERM TAGS: @other-fandom-reblogs

[fgumi]

ꕥ maybe this time; — taesan one shot, wc: 1.7k, genre: angst, fluff

the schoolyard is filled with the usual noise of after-class chatter, but taesan hears none of it. his focus is solely on her—the girl with the easy smile and the kind eyes that always seem to be looking somewhere else. she’s sitting on the low stone wall, surrounded by friends, her laughter ringing out like a melody he can’t quite reach. he stands a few feet away, hidden in the crowd, blending in as he always does. it’s safer that way, quieter, less painful. but today, there’s a dull ache in his chest, sharper than usual, reminding him of all the times he’s let the moment pass.

they’ve been in the same class for years, sharing the same space but never really meeting. taesan knows her name, her favorite subjects, and the way she twists her hair when she’s nervous. he knows she loves the first snow of winter and that she always picks strawberries out of her lunch. he knows these things, but she doesn’t know him—not really. not beyond the occasional smile in the hallway or a polite nod when their paths cross.

he’s told himself it’s fine, that admiring her from a distance is enough. but today, something’s different. maybe it’s the way the sun is setting, casting a warm glow on her face, or how she throws her head back in laughter, carefree and radiant. maybe it’s the way his friends nudge him, teasingly whispering that he should finally make a move. whatever it is, taesan feels the urge to cross the invisible line he’s drawn for himself. his heart pounds, loud and insistent, urging him to take a step, just one.

but fear is a stubborn thing. he’s too aware of his flaws—too quiet, too awkward, too much of everything he wishes he wasn’t. she’s surrounded by people who fit seamlessly into her world, and taesan feels like an outsider looking in. he watches as she glances his way, just for a second, her gaze brushing past him like he’s invisible. it’s a tiny moment, a fleeting glance, but it’s enough to send his hopes crashing down.

he turns on his heel, biting back the frustration that wells up inside him. why is it so hard to just say something? anything? he imagines a thousand scenarios in his head—what he would say if he weren’t so scared, how she might smile back, how they could walk home together talking about nothing and everything. but reality is cruel, and those daydreams crumble under the weight of his insecurities.

taesan stops at the school gate, leaning against the cold metal as he watches her from a distance. the shadows are growing longer, the sun dipping lower, and with it, the last threads of his courage unravel. he shoves his hands deeper into his pockets, feeling the sting of another missed chance.

maybe next time, he tells himself. maybe tomorrow, or the day after that. but deep down, he knows that the next time might be just as elusive, just as unreachable as today.

the sky darkens, and taesan walks away, the sound of her laughter fading into the background. he doesn’t look back, but the memory of her stays with him, lingering like a half-finished song.

the laughter of your friends fills the space around you, light and carefree, but your mind drifts elsewhere. there’s a familiar weight on your shoulders today, a sense of something just out of reach. you glance around, your gaze sweeping over the schoolyard, half-listening to the conversation but not really hearing it. it’s then that you catch sight of him—taesan, standing alone near the school gate. he’s always been quiet, blending into the background, and you wonder, not for the first time, what’s on his mind.

you’ve seen him around, of course. the quiet boy with soft eyes who always seems to be on the periphery. he’s in your classes, sometimes sitting just a few desks away, scribbling in his notebook or staring out the window, lost in his thoughts. you’ve never spoken much, just polite exchanges here and there, but there’s something about him that draws your attention, something you can’t quite put your finger on.

today, though, he looks different—tense, like he’s carrying a secret too heavy to keep. you watch as he hesitates, his shoulders stiff, hands shoved deep into his pockets. he seems on the verge of doing something, but then he turns away, his expression shuttered and distant. you don’t know why, but the sight of him walking away stirs something inside you, a flicker of disappointment you weren’t expecting.

you wonder what he was thinking, standing there alone while everyone else was caught up in the moment. you want to call out to him, ask him if he’s okay or maybe just say hi, but the words stick in your throat. it feels silly, reaching out when you’ve barely exchanged more than a few words before. but still, you can’t help but feel like you’ve missed something important, something that passed between you in a heartbeat without either of you saying a word.

the sun is setting, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, and you know you should be focusing on your friends, on the carefree chatter and the plans for the weekend. but your gaze keeps drifting back to the spot where taesan stood, now empty and shadowed. you wonder if he ever feels as out of place as you do sometimes, if he’s ever caught between wanting to be seen and fearing what might happen if he is.

for a brief moment, you imagine calling out to him. maybe you could catch up, ask him why he looked so lost, or just walk home together in the fading light. but the moment slips away, and you let it, too unsure of what you’d even say. instead, you turn back to your friends, forcing a smile as if nothing’s changed.

but you know something has. you can’t quite shake the feeling that there was something unsaid between you and taesan, something that could have been different if either of you had the courage to speak. you steal one last glance toward the gate, hoping he’ll turn around, but he’s already gone, swallowed up by the city streets.

maybe next time, you think to yourself. maybe next time, you’ll say something before it’s too late.

the sun dips below the horizon, and you try to forget the quiet boy with the faraway look in his eyes. but as you walk home, you find yourself wishing that, just once, he would come back. that maybe, this time, neither of you would walk away.

years pass...

the engagement party is lively, a swirl of laughter, clinking glasses, and old friends reuniting. taesan didn’t plan on coming; he never liked these kinds of gatherings, but something compelled him tonight. as he navigates through the room, feeling slightly out of place, his eyes catch a familiar figure near the corner.

it’s you. the sight of you sends a rush of emotions through him—memories of school, missed chances, and all the times he watched you from afar but never said a word. you’re standing with a group of friends, your laughter a soft melody that cuts through the noise. for a moment, taesan hesitates. it’s been years, and so much has changed, but something deeper than nostalgia pushes him forward.

you notice him just as he approaches, the surprise clear in your eyes. “taesan?” you say, your voice tinged with disbelief and warmth.

he nods, smiling in that soft, familiar way. “yeah, it’s been a long time.”

“i didn’t expect to see you here,” you admit, still processing the unexpected reunion.

“yeah, me neither,” he says, a hint of nervous laughter in his voice. “i almost didn’t come.”

there’s a brief, shared silence, filled with the weight of years and all the things left unsaid. but then, as if no time has passed, the conversation starts to flow. you talk about the mutual friend whose engagement you’re celebrating, the twists and turns your lives have taken, and the quiet nostalgia of school days that feel both close and distant. it’s easy, effortless, and taesan finds himself smiling more than he has in a long time.

as the evening drifts on, the two of you gravitate away from the crowd, finding a quiet spot on the balcony. the city sprawls out before you, a sea of twinkling lights and distant sounds. taesan leans against the railing, stealing glances at you when he thinks you’re not looking.

“you know,” he finally says, breaking the comfortable quiet, “i always wanted to talk to you back then, but i never had the guts.”

you turn to face him, surprised but not entirely. “i noticed you too,” you confess, a small smile tugging at your lips. “i always wondered why you never said anything.”

he chuckles softly, shaking his head. “i guess i was scared. scared of what you’d think. scared of not being enough.”

there’s a vulnerability in his words that pulls at something deep inside you, a sense of recognition that goes beyond just old high school memories. you’ve always wondered about him—the quiet boy with the faraway look in his eyes, the one who never quite stepped out of the shadows. and now, standing here with him, it feels like a missing piece of your past is finally falling into place.

“why didn’t we do this sooner?” you ask, half-serious, half-joking, but the question hangs between you, heavy with what could have been.

taesan meets your gaze, his eyes filled with a quiet determination that wasn’t there before. “i don’t know,” he admits, voice low but certain. “but i’m glad we’re doing it now.”

he reaches out, his hand brushing against yours, and you don’t pull away. the touch is gentle, yet it carries all the weight of your shared history, all the missed moments that led you to this one. you intertwine your fingers, feeling the warmth of his skin, and suddenly, the years of distance between you don’t seem to matter anymore.

the city lights dance around you, and for the first time in a long time, everything feels right. taesan’s arm slips around your shoulders, pulling you closer, and you lean into him, content in the quiet certainty of his presence. the past is behind you, and the future feels wide open, filled with all the possibilities you were too afraid to reach for before.

this time, there’s no hesitation, no fear. just the quiet promise of a new beginning, shared between two hearts that finally found their way back to each other.

disclaimer: this, in no way, reflects the idol. this is purely fiction. a/n: "maybe this time" has been stuck in my head more than usual... ✧ comments and reblogs are appreciated! ✧ give my other works a read too!

taglist: @en-dream ｡･ﾟﾟ･ @onedoornet

[grimmweepers]

— ☆ 𝐌𝐈𝐃𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐃𝐀𝐇𝐋𝐈𝐀

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: whenever summer comes around, especially when dahlias bloom, everything begins to remind you of your late lover

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: alhaitham x gn!reader. sfw. angst. modern!au (could be read as canon tbh), character death mention (alhaitham), hurt/slight comfort, very bittersweet, previously established relationship, unresolved grief, reminiscing, heavy summer and flower themes 0.8k wc. masterlist | byf/dni

a/n: this is my submission for the @pixelcafe-network's Challenge Friday that we do every few weeks. this time the prompt was "goodbye, my summer love". as I deal with some personal grief rn, writing this was a nice way to cope, and doing a very angsty take was kind of fun. the title of this drabble was named after the perfume 'Midnight Dahlia' by Korres but the plot is my own

reblogs and interactions are always appreciated ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Summer days were always long and languid.

Once, they felt like a letter from a lover, but now they remain a capsule of something lost. Alhaitham always said that when being bathed by the sun, time truly slowed down; if you listened carefully, you could hear the world hum under its breath. 

Alhaitham said a lot of things, which was ironic because back then, you and everyone who knew him, had always teased him for being the quieter type. 

But the truth was you never fully understood ‘quiet’ until he was gone.

It was during the height of summer when he’d bring you dahlias. With his endless knowledge of everything that lived and breathed, you quickly learned the meanings — purple for dignity, yellow for joy, white for purity. His mixed bundles were his way of telling you that, to him, you were all of the above.

Dignified. Joyful. Filled with the purest form of love. 

They weren’t always your favourite but over time, you had grown to love them because they reminded you of him. Since the day he left you, it took you longer than you wanted to admit to stop weeping every time you saw one.

Still, you made the effort to bring some home whenever they were in season. It was akin to pretending that he was not truly gone but just somewhere else for a while.

As the last day of summer transitioned, you sat on the porch, watching the sky deepen into the hours before dawn. The dahlias in the vase beside you were wilting, petals curling as if bracing for the inevitable chill of autumn. Your chest tightened, knowing what that meant.

People used hourglasses to measure time. You had flowers.

You brushed the fragile petals with your fingertips, and for a fleeting moment, you were taken to a time when your world was whole.

It was a late evening when you and Alhaitham sat in silence, surrounded by the last blooms of the season. He had been reading, and you simply watched him, content with the quietness. Amused, he rose from his spot to pluck a single dahlia from the garden and tucked it behind your ear. You were baffled, he noticed in your face, but you relaxed when you were met with his eyes. They were honest and made your skin grow hot. They were worth a room full of gold.

It had been years since Alhaitham passed. The grief dulled but it never left, lingering like a curse that could not be broken. You tried to move forward but summer always brought him back.

Something as simple as a stroll on the beach was enough to tug at your heart because the sand bore one less set of footprints, the warmth of the sun graced one less body, and sometimes when the sea breeze came, you felt the echo of his presence behind you as if you were still walking, hand in hand. 

But it was the dahlias that hurt the most. They mostly bloomed in the heat and every summer, they seemed to grow just for you, as if Alhaitham was sending them as a reminder. 

Closing your eyes, memories came flooding in like waves, threatening to pull you under into the past. You remembered how his hand brushed against you the day he made you his and your fingers involuntarily twitched at the thought. In his bedroom, the air was thick with the scent of earth and flowers, and sunlight spilled lazy shadows onto the wooden floors through his sheer curtains. Your lips quivered because you never forgot how it made you feel when he leaned in and kissed you. You could still taste the sea salt on your lips.

Time stretched endlessly that day but time caught up with everyone, eventually.

You exhaled a shaky breath, your jaw was trembling.

Summer always ruined you.

Grief, no matter how much time passed, always weaved its way back in. Saying goodbye to him never felt final. He lingered in the corners of your heart, in warm afternoons, in the bloom of the dahlias.

When a cool breeze brought you back to the present, you felt the world shake. You opened your eyes just in time to see one of the petals lift from its stem and float away. It danced through the air, weightless and alone, waiting to disappear into the night. You watched it until it was out of sight, lost to the starless sky.

“Goodbye, Alhaitham,” you whispered. You even thought you smiled a little, too. 

For the first week of autumn, you returned to the porch, waiting for a hint of rain and watching for any sign of encroaching storm clouds. You breathed in and out. It was time for the axe to fall.

Goodbye, Alhaitham.

The dahlias will come again next summer, and with them, so would your memories of him. 

© 2024 grimmweepers — do not repost, copy, translate, modify my work on any platform.

networks: @houseofsolisoccasum @nereidsrealm

dividers by @/adornedwithlight

[katanablue]

OPEN you say?

Iiiiif inspiration strikes maybe a desperate and whiny bay!Leo during mating season? 😩 he deserves to be a little whiny and cranky sometimes. And like... you just keep getting interrupted

Ifnotthatsokayyoucanignorethis. loveyourstuffkaybye

RIP IM SORRY THIS IS LIKE 80 YEARS LATE

Warnings: fem reader, sex obvi, anal, mentions of ass eating, Leo is mean for half a second

. . . . . ╰──╮꒰💙꒱ ╭──╯ . . . . .

Three times.

Three times you and Leo have been interrupted from getting busy with each other, from letting him release all these pent up frustrations and desires, letting him mark you up and claim you as his because once again that time has come.

Mating season.

By now you’ve learned to recognize the symptoms, a few years of being together have you in tune with his isms. He’s more fidgety, focusing harder to keep with his mediation and he always lingers closer to you with a protective hand on some part of your body.

So naturally, as the good partner you are, you let him indulge.

Obviously he cautioned you that things would be… rough. That the last thing he wanted to do was to hurt you and ignore you if you were asking him to stop.

But after a very long detailed talk coupled with some research, you felt ready.

You started slow with him; handjobs escalated to blowjobs, oral performed on you went up to 69-ing with you on top until eventually you worked your way to having sex.

And some selfish part of you loved when it was Leo’s mating season because it always left you feeling like a fucked out pile of goo.

It was hard at first finding the time and space to help him out but you figured it out with time; whether it was in his room late at night or at your apartment.

But this time, the universe seemed to be against you both.

Twice you got disturbed by his brothers, claiming they needed to go for patrol to check out some suspicious activity and last time it was Splinter who wanted Leo to join him for meditation.

But even that couldn’t cool the leader in blue’s blood.

Leo was getting desperate at this point and you were too, but in your case you could easily take care of your problems yourself. Leo, however? Needed you. His hand didn’t do it justice. He climaxed but it never felt good, not like how it would feel if it was by your doing. He needed your pleasure to help him achieve that maximum euphoria.

Leo was ready to kick everyone out the Lair at this point but luckily he didn’t need to; his brothers were out doing their own things and Splinter was relaxing at home which meant Leo could slip away to yours.

Which is how you ending up like this; Leo rutting against your ass, cock so slick and slippery as it rubbed in between your cheeks with him panting and whining directly in your ear.

“Gonna make it feel so good. So good, my love.”

Mating season was the only time he did this, claiming that your pussy (while amazing) wasn’t enough. He had prepped you with two of his thick fingers, his fat tongue licking and slurping your hole because while he was clouded with lust, he wasn’t so far gone that he’d forget to help you.

You both were practically dripping by the time he shoves his leaking cock into your ass, arousal pooling beneath you on the sheets and creating sticky strings between your folds. Leo nips your throat and trails up to your ear and cheek, his breath hot and showering you in goosebumpss

“Gonna fill this pretty ass with my cum. That’s what you want right? To be filled?”

You can only mewl from the utter filth that flows from his lips, clutching pathetically at the pillow near your head when he pushes his cock in.

This is the only time he’s gentle, when it’s giving you a moment to adjust, and when it’s over it’s a whole different aura.

He practically molds to your back, his plastron rough and slightly uncomfortable against your sweaty skin but you don’t care. He fucks you hard and deep, whimpering and grunting because he’s finally getting what he’s been chasing after since the start of the season.

Of course it couldn’t be completely perfect.

A phone starts going off, the ringtone obnoxious and loud as it echoes through your room. And Leo growls, legitimately growls out of frustration and anger at another disturbance.

“L-Leo—“

“Don’t. Don’t you fucking dare.”

He puts a hand in between your shoulder blades and holds you down while continuing to piston himself into you, watching the way his fat cock disappears into you, how your ass bounces with every hit.

“Could be import—ant!” You cry but deep down you know it’s no use. Once he’s sunk himself into your warmth, there’s no stopping him until he’s done.

“There is nothing more important than me fucking you until you’re broken. Do you understand me?” The way his voice gets so raspy and gravelly has your pussy clenching around nothing and for a moment you wish he had something pounding you there too. You weakly nod your head, saliva falling off your tongue.

“Y-yes sir.”

He cums shortly after, moaning harshly with stuttered movements when he fills your ass up. He pulls out with a wet pop, parting your cheeks and watching the way he seeps out from your hole.

“Gonna fuck your pussy now. Is that okay? It’s okay right?”

Before you can even croak out your ‘yes’, he’s already halfway in, once again giving you that small window to adjust before he picks up the pace.

The phone rings again and Leo whines out of annoyance, shifting his hands to grab onto your arms to haul you up into a better position. It makes your mouth drop open, tits shaking with every slap and your legs quiver violently.

“Mm you’re so perfect for me, my perfect hole.”

He holds you tight against his plastron, one hand snaking to your throat while the other goes to start rubbing your clit. Your thighs nearly clamp shut but he keeps them open, fucking you impossibly faster.

The phone rings and rings and rings, until eventually it stops. For a few seconds it’s just Leo fucking you with reckless abandonment, whispering pathetically in your ear about how good you feel and how he can’t wait to fuck you again.

And again.

And again.

Yeah, mating season Leo might be your one of your favorite Leo’s.

[fictionadventurer]

Top five time travel movies/books! :D

See, the trouble is that while I love time travel as a concept, I haven't actually explored the genre that much. I haven't watched/read most of the time travel stories out there, sometimes because I just haven't gotten to it, other times because I'm very picky about content, other times because most of the time travel stories I run across are either "we're a bureaucratic agency dedicated to policing time travel" or "oh, no, what if we change history?" or "I fell in love with a hunky Highlander", none of which are the parts of time travel stories that interest me.

The most accurate version of this list would be a list of Doctor Who episodes (and maybe some Star Trek ones), but you specified movies and books, which is going to make this a much more difficult list to create.

The Day of the Doctor: Haha, I cheated, because Day of the Doctor was released in theaters, which makes it a movie! (So I can use it as a stand-in for all the Doctor Who episodes that are my favorite time travel stories). Thankfully, it's a fantastic time travel story and one of my favorites. It's a genius blend of both "stable timeline" and "changeable timeline" mechanics. Three different interweaving timelines. References to A Christmas Carol. Changing major events in the show's past without changing the timeline that resulted from them at all. A rejection once and for all of the "ends justify the means" mindset that had lingered over the reboot for too long. A masterpiece.

A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens: It's the classic Christmas story for a reason--and one of those reasons is the time travel. Going with Scrooge across decades of his own life and watching him undergo character development from that is a great use of time travel. (And there happens to be a great Doctor Who version, too!)

Star Trek: First Contact: It's fun when you get characters traveling from the future to a different time that's also in the future. Love all the worldbuilding details of these characters interacting with their past/our fictional future, and it's a pretty good story.

Shadowhand by Anne Elisabeth Stengl: The Tales of Goldstone Wood series has a structure unlike any I've ever seen in fantasy, and this book is the reason. The first three books in the series are in chronological order. The next two books are prequels that take place like a thousand years earlier. This book, the sixth, involves characters from the later time period time-traveling to meet characters from the earlier time period, and getting swept up in a legend that they've known since childhood. I remember very little about the book beyond that, but it's such a cool concept (with an unforgettable ending moment) that I have to put it on the list.

Love Strikes Twice: It's one of the very rare Hallmark movies that's actually a decent movie by normal movie standards, so I have to give it credit. Instead of the usual boring time travel plot of "oh no, what if we change history?", we get someone who's trying to change history, who does change history, and it's a good thing. The time travel mechanics surrounding that make no sense, but who cares? It's a fun story with an engaging cast, legitimately funny jokes, a sweet romance, and a solid plot.

[privategurlsblog]

What’s Done is Done - A.T

Not suitable for minors. 18+!!!!

Warnings: PIV, he’s innocent, you’re a minx. pretty standard. cheating.

PLOT: You & Alex get assigned to the same halls in University. They say you shouldn’t shit where you eat, you must not have got the memo.

🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤

You watched out the window with your ice lolly at hand, a curious expression on your face. The boy that had caught your attention had a cigarette in his hand and his lip caught between his teeth. The woman beside him barely resembled him but you could tell merely from her fussing that she was his mother. Their muted conversation intrigued you. While her mouth moved at one hundred miles per hour, his barely moved at all.

His nerves were palpable even through the thick double glazing of the window you were stood at. Made evident mostly by his shifty gaze and the fact that he couldn't keep still, moving from one foot to the other without barely a second passing. Surely his feet couldn't get tired that quickly?

A few bags sat at his feet, not nearly as much as you'd lugged up to the flat yesterday afternoon when you'd arrived. Your eyes scanned over the items that were showing, spotting a guitar case. You nearly rolled your eyes, the thought of hearing the harrowing sound of inexperienced fingers against those strings sent a shiver down your spine. If he ever interrupted your sleep with it, he'd soon learn his year would be full of misery.

Your peering was cut short though when he suddenly glanced up. His eyes were large, nervous and yet somehow still intense. You didn't break your gaze, even as they lingered over you curiously. Instead you lifted your fingers, a smirk growing on your lips as you offered a waggle of your fingers.

He looked awkward, body tensed and a civil smile with his lips pulled inward before he offered one back. So awkward that you had to refrain a laugh.

"Look at this cutie outside," you called over to one of your flat mates, a girl called Lucy you had fast made friends with after a night out drinking.

She practically ran over, intrigued herself as she caught sight of him stood there. He'd be the only boy, there was only four people in this accommodation. The other girl had already stated she had a boyfriend she stayed with most nights. The poor lad has no idea what he's in for.

"Awww," she cooed, waving at him which he returned once again, just as awkwardly, "he looks so nervous bless him."

"I'm sure it'll be hell living with three girls," you rolled your eyes, your sarcasm making Lucy chuckle.

You both moved away from the window and sat at the table, discussing the freshers event that would be on tonight. Before long you heard the sound of the door opening, paired with a soft northern voice that sounded like an old lady, maybe old was harsh, but she didn't sound young.

Followed soon after by a soft spoken, younger sounding tone - also northern. It must be the lad from outside. You and your flat mate widened your eyes at each other, smirks growing on your lips as you rushed to the kitchen door to peer round it, watching him struggle with a large box as he entered into his room behind his mother.

Your eyes travelled the length of his body; short but not too short, lean but not too skinny that he'd snap, nice little perky arse. He definitely needs some tips on fashion though, judging by the ugly loose jeans barely hanging on his hips and the atrocious electric blue Harrington jacket he had on. His shoes looked like they'd been washed in a pile of shit and he walked like he was edging towards horror itself when he entered the room. But cute, a cute face at least.

It was hours until he left his room, his mother had left sometime around noon and the sky had already started darkening before he escaped his solace. You and Lucy sat in the kitchen, playing a game of beer pong in preparation for the night ahead. You were both dolled up to the nines, with green on as you were off to a traffic light party and both hoping to pull.

The boy walked in and stopped short in the doorway when he caught sight of the two of you, his eyes widening to an extent that he looked quite frankly, mad. A beat of silence passed where you all exchanged looks, a giggle bubbling on your lips as tension filled the space, all awkward and uncomfortable.

"Hello," Lucy smiled, her voice gentle as if she was approaching a toddler. He gazed at her in wonder, the shock being replaced with something soft as the tiniest of smiles took place on his lips.

"Hi," he muttered, his voice cracking halfway through the one syllable word. You remained silent, watching the exchange with your chest burning from how much you wanted to laugh. But you weren't that mean.

"I'm Lucy," Lucy shook his hand like it was a formal business meeting.

"Alex," he replied, his voice practically slurred. He appeared to be rather soft spoken, though he straightened his stance trying to feign confidence.

"Nice to meet you Alex, can I call you Al?" Lucy was speaking to him like he was a specimen from out of space and it was making you really struggle to hold in your laughter. A weird sound left your lips which made his eyes quickly avert to you.

"Yeah, um....they call me that, back home anyways," Alex mutters, his eyes flickering between the two of you.

"This is Y/N," Lucy thins her eyes at you, your eyes full of mischief, "she's unserious."

"Welcome to the flat Al," you emphasised his name with a little wink, "how exciting for you being surrounded by girlies."

Alex blushed, it spread across his cheeks and neck within seconds and his eyes grew shifty, darting to the floor rapidly like looking at you might be trouble. Perhaps he's right, you're certainly a riot and he'll soon figure that out. But you'll give him time to make his assumptions first.

Lucy chuckles, "wanna play beer pong? Are you coming to the party tonight?"

Alex shook his head, "um, wanted to settle in first, you know....get things sorted."

"Boring!" you announced, slamming your drink down and he visibly jumped, his heart might as well have been pounding out of the cheap speaker beside you, it was that loud, "join us Al! Please, we could do with a ref. This bellend keeps cheating."

Lucy quickly protests and Alex has no time to as you guys drag him into your game. Suddenly he's got a drink at hand, fruity wine as if he's one of the girls.

Once your heads are clouded enough, the game is forgotten and you all start dancing. Well, all is a little bit of an overstatement, Alex sits on the settee watching on with his back straight like he's sat amongst the queens of England.

But you drag him up, pulling him to his feet as his blush deepens even more, though he's practically been growing red all night. At least he'll fit in with the vibe at the party later.

"Come on Al, why don't you loosen up?" you chuckled as he stood still beside you. Lucy had gone to make you all drinks, chuckling at you as you teased him much like you'd been doing all night long.

"I'm not much of a dancer," he groaned, his hands plastered to his sides as you turned your back, pressing your arse against him as you rolled your body to 'Promiscuous Girl'.

"Then I'll dance, just hold my hips, like this," you grabbed his hands and moved them to your hips. His grip was loose, his fingers trembling. You could feel his heart racing against your back as you pressed harder against him, still dancing to the music.

You found it incredibly endearing how nervous he was, it was practically seeping through your skin, making your own belly flip. He was cute, and yeah a bit good looking but you weren't looking for anything serious. You're not particularly fussed about the rule of not shitting where you eat, as long as you're satisfied at the end of it.

You sung along at the top of your lungs, pressing into him more and more as your hips swayed. Alex was having an incredibly hard time not getting turned on by you, to be fair to him it could've been anyone, but it was you. And you were fit. He'd thought it since he'd seen you at the window with your puffy lips wrapped around a fruit pastel ice lolly, waggling your fingers at him with a glint in your eye he could see even from several feet away.

And now here you were, grinding on him like it was the most casual ordeal ever, holding his hands captive against your side. Though he wasn't exactly trying to pull them away.

"Going for a wee!" Lucy shouts, but neither of you seem to care as Alex's hips start moving against yours, the instinct overtaking his mind. The lust has began seeping into it anyway, clouding his judgement as your hands drop from his, yet his never drop from your hips.

"See, I think you're doing a great job," you say, glancing over your shoulder at him. Your eyes are hazy with amusement, your smirk barely being contained even as you took your lip between your teeth.

Alex suddenly became very aware of how good looking you were, the warmth of your body seeping through his own, opening up a burning fire in the pit of his belly. And with that, came the rise of his cock. He felt it pressing against his jeans, the heat of his arousal overwhelming him enough to quickly pull away from you.

"Sorry....I....my girlfriend wouldn't like it," Alex quickly mumbles out but you hardly seem to care as you twirl around. His hand comes trawling through his hair, feeling the dampness from how much he's been sweating over you.

The sudden reminder of his girlfriend, probably sat in her bedroom crying over him leaving, is like a bucket of ice water being thrown over him. Something tugs at his heart, yearning, guilt, despair....whatever it is, it's not enjoyable and he's desperate to get out of here. Desperate to come back to before he does something stupid, something he'd never usually dream of doing.

"Ooo Alex you better put on some red then before the traffic light party!"

Lucy comes parading back into the room, breaking the lust filled fog that was clouding it prior to her arrival. You're over having the time of your life, barely recognising any tension in light of your excitement.

"I'm not going," he insists, his eyes fixed on you still, your hips specifically in the criminally short skirt you had on that stretched over your pert little arse, "I'm gonna go call her. Have fun though."

"Thanks Al!" you shouted behind you, "have fun tossing yourself off!"

He blushed again, shaking his head as Lucy, already cut, started cackling at your quip. He's never moved so fast in his life leaving that room, trying desperately to get back to the solace of his room where he could regather himself.

It turned out the traffic light party was boring. While Lucy had found her fix straight away, you were looking around with a sour face at your options or lack there of. None of the boys were doing it for you, your haziness was fading alongside your excitement. As Lucy informed you she was going back to her fix's place for a shag, you decided to go home.

The door crashed behind you and shook the entire flat, the sound echoing down the empty corridor where the ugly, piercing blue lights came to life above you. Your eyes flickered to the doors in front of you, grazing over your own, annoyance flickering through you as you realise you'd left the light on.

But then your eyes carry on to the next door, where you see the light spilling out of the gap under Alex's door. Now that you think about it, you already found your fix earlier.

A smirk grows on your lips as you toss your handbag to the side, moving swiftly towards his door where you rap your knuckles on it slowly. You hear some shuffling before it swings open to reveal him, still in the ugly outfit from earlier, with tired eyes and messy hair.

"Just woke up?" you mutter, letting your eyes travel the length of his body. God, he's cute. So shy, so timid. You love yourself a little peach like that.

"No," he swallows as you glance behind him into his room, bare of anything except a photo frame on his desk, not that you can see what the picture contains but judging by his earlier declaration, you have some sort of idea.

"The party was boring, thanks for asking," you swan in like you own the place, walking effortlessly in heels that are tall enough to make Alex wince. He watches you glance around his room, a smile gracing your lips at the plaid bedsheets and the welcome pack his mum clearly made him.

"Wanna hang out?" you turn, facing him, catching him off guard as he shrugs in return, his heart already racing far ahead of his incomprehensible mind, "we're living together, we should get to know each other."

And that you do.

Alex sits on the bed and you perch beside him, fiddling with a teddy bear he's had for years after you'd dutifully teased him for it. You talk all about where you're from, your parents, siblings, your course at uni. You ask him a little bit about himself but he's less willing to give and so you take the lead, feeling the alcohol wear off completely by the time you finish.

Alex sits with his back against the wall, legs stretched out in front of him. He's an attentive listener, an eye contact king which you find a contradiction to how he comes across in his vibe. You decide he's not completely timid, but perhaps just gentle, impassive. You're intrigued, let's just say that.

"You're fit Alex," you said, your face unmoving from its casualness despite saying something that was dripping in confidence. Alex went silent, the air stilling around you both as he gazed at you with wide eyes, trying to conjure up a way to approach this.

You shifted, deciding to bite the bullet. His body is practically screaming for you, the blush and bulge clear indications that he thinks the exact same. You get it, he loves his girlfriend from college. But this is uni. She's in the past, and you're in the next room.

Alex watched you with caution, his hands already gripping the sheets like he was sucking power through his palms to leave, though he didn't move another muscle.

You suddenly moved, shifting your thigh over his. He remained wordless, watching you do it and you smirked as you fell into place in his lap, your crotches aligning as well as your faces.

You could smell the lingering scent of wine off his breath, the cheap cologne coming off his body, a little old smelling since he'd probably put it on this morning. He'd shed that horrific jacket, thank God, and was clad in a T-shirt that fit him snugly, hugging his taut body. You felt jealous of the fabric. You wanted in on a piece of him.

"Do you think I'm pretty?"

Your whisper fell across his face and his eyes fluttered closed. Already, he could feel himself getting hard. All you'd done is sit on his lap, he was yet to say or do anything. You were yet to move in it. And he was already hard? Christ, he's pathetic.

"Al? Do you?"

"Mhm," he mumbled, half arsed, opening his eyes to find you gazing curiously into his, your lips upturning at his compliment.

"Do you wanna fuck me?"

"I have a girlfriend," he defended himself which seemed counterintuitive when you were sat in his lap like this.

Your lips ghosted over his as you leant forward, and what was even better was that you could feel him prodding you. The high flush on his cheekbones and his expanded pupils proved his arousal all the more, and you were amused if anything.

"Where is she then?" you said against his lips, your whisper breathing something sordid into him. His eyes fluttered closed, long eyelashes tickling his cheeks as he attempted to control himself. His fists twined with the sheets beside him, his slumped body felt heavy and uncontrollable.

You shifted the slightest bit with all the intent to tease him, his breath hitched and his eyes shot open as the pleasure from the pressure on his crotch shot through him.

"I-I'm not a cheat," his hands come to rest of your hips and yet don't stop you when you shift again, the touch featherlight, completely unsure. It makes your lips quirk up, a devilish smile on them that doesn't aid his problem.

"You're not doing anything are you?" you shrug, moving your hips again. He mewls this time, head slamming back against the wall with a hard smack, the skin of his neck flushed a deep red as he tries to swallow the lust.

"Y/N...." his voice trails off into a groan when you roll your hips again, harder this time, his zipper digging into your panties and making you moan lightly, "I....fuck....you need to stop."

"You have the power," you whisper, pecking his lips, taking his bottom lip between your teeth and nibbling on the supple flesh. They swell under your own lips, the blood rushing around his body as the words linger in the air, the lies in them hanging over you both.

"Do you want me to fuck you?" you whisper, stroking your tongue across his bottom lip, soothing your own teeth marks indenting his skin.

"Christ....fuck," Alex splutters the words out as you grind harder, pushing your chest flush against his, the feel of your boobs pressing into him making him lose all sense of self for a second as he looks down at your impressive cleavage, eyes widening like a kid in a candy shop.

"No....no, I can't do this," Alex groans, his neck elongating as he presses his head against the wall. You pout, but hear him out, stopping your movements.

"Okay," you shrug, going to move off him. He watches your body move, before he knows it his hand has reached out to touch your thigh. It's not that much indication but you look round nonetheless, catching sight of his desperate gaze. He doesn't want to admit it, but he wants you. And he's begging you to take from him, what he can't offer.

"How about we don't talk?" you resume your movements, watching the relief seep into his gaze as you start rocking against him again.

"Then it's not really happening, is it?"

"Mhm...." Alex agrees through thinned lips, eyes still lingering on your boobs, your nipples hardened through the fabric of your slutty top. He'd love to rip it off but he wouldn't want to break the rules.

You shuffle back so you're sat on his thighs, cupping his bulge under your small palm. He looks well endowed judging by the press of him against his jeans, you're practically salivating as you start to rub your hand up and down the fabric.

"Fuck," he whines, hips shifting upwards, chasing your touch. He flushes red at his own desperation, his own roughness even though he'd tried to say no. It was so obvious he hadn’t meant it.

You fiddle with his zip, eyes fixed on him checking with him if it's okay and he gives the slightest nod - nearly enough for you to miss if you weren't watching him so intently.

He whines again when you undo his button, your fingers rubbing against the damp spot where his cock is pressed to his boxers. Even the slightest friction has him thrashing and you chuckle, pushing his hips down and fixing him with a warning glare, full of teasing.

"Shhhh," you look into his eyes, your movements easy for you despite the fact you're not even looking. He feels the pressure relieve against his cock when you finally undo the zip and button, but still it's pressed against his boxers, straining the fabric.

Alex doesn't stop you. He doesn't want to, if he's honest. He should, he knows he should. But he can't help but indulge in how you're going about this, making him feel helpless, already taking the blame for something he's equally as guilty for.

You pull him out of his boxers in a swift motion, a slight wince forms on his face when he slaps against his belly, the cool air making his red hot skin twitch. Neither of you look towards it, you shift on him, your movements subtle, almost unnoticeable. He can't hear a thing outside of his beating heart, echoing through his ears. He can't feel a thing except your hands aligning him, and then the inevitable feel of your wet heat as you sink down onto him with a slight gasp.

"Fuck."

His mutter was so quiet, you almost didn't catch it. But you certainly caught the way his eyes rolled back, how his grip on the sheets tightened and the sheen of him under the yellow tinted lights.

You started to ride him, your hands taking solace on his shoulders as you bounced curtly on his cock. Alex had a hard time pretending it wasn't happening, his lip caught between his teeth biting down hard enough for blood to escape into his mouth, the metallic taste a mere afterthought.

His eyes followed you, up and down, and back again, watching the way your head fell back and a moan left your lips as you made yourself feel good. His hands stayed at his side; he was unmoving almost like a statue or a toy for you to use. And it was so hot. He felt guilty for even endorsing it but his cock wasn't lying, you were worth standing for. And he'd be your toy any day.

The pleasure wrapped around him like a warm blanket, his skin prickling with it, starting to sweat from trying to hold back. You were moaning like crazy, your nails digging into his shoulders, eyes rolled into the back of your head. Your sounds reverberated through him and increased his pleasure tenfold, the pressure in his lower stomach starting to coil tight despite the fact it had only been minutes since you'd first sunk onto him.

"Boys like you always have big cocks huh?" you drawled, looking down at him with a sultry gaze, your pupils swallowing your irises whole. Your hair hung over your eyes, making you look sinister but in the best way. Momentarily, he held your gaze and pretended this wasn't wrong, a groan bubbling between his lips.

You bounced harder, overwhelming him completely as his eyes rolled back and he struggled to cope. He felt himself pulsing, his belly tightening enough for it to hurt. As you looked down on him, you realised that he wasn't going to last much longer, the twitchiness of his body said it all, his deep heavy breaths a clear indication of how much he was struggling.

"If you carry on," Alex hissed through his teeth, voice ragged with the promise of his release, "I'm gonna cum."

"Shhh, I don't need to know," you whisper, your fingers curving against his face to silence him, "this isn't happening, remember?"

Alex groaned, his head smacking the wall again and his legs twitching. The pleasure was almost too much, the way you've muted the situation somehow amplifying it by a tenfold.

He couldn't hold on any longer. His head rolled back, the pleasure overriding his ability to speak or move as you overwhelmed him with it, speeding up your hips as you felt him twitch. His eyes squeezed shut and his cheeks flushed an even deeper shade of red as his cock twitched, his release spurting inside of you.

His groans were cute, echoing through the room so quietly as if they were shy. And perhaps they were just as much as he was, refusing to look at you, his eyes squeezed shut as his hips jolted up again and again.

When you felt his body go slack beneath you, you quickly jumped off him, pulling your panties up before his eyes had even opened. He was like a puddle in the middle of his bed, his eyes drowsy looking, his mouth slack, lips swollen. He looked a sight for sore eyes but now that you were done with him, you were healed.

"What's her name?" you leant against his desk, a little dangerous smirk on your lips.

"Huh?" he sat up a bit, trying to regain his composure. You were acting so casual he nearly rubbed his eyes as if that might bring him back to a reality where you hadn't just rode his cock. Where you weren't stood there with his cum staining your panties.

"Your girlfriend, what's her name?"

"Natasha."

"Hm," you giggled, your hand running over his desk until it led up to the cute framed picture he had of himself and the girl, "cute."

"Look I....that shouldn't have happened," Alex finally regains his ability to speak, his voice timid and yet the alarm in it was prominent. You looked around with a quirked brow, wondering where this insistence was when you were riding him minutes prior.

He stood on shaky legs, tucking himself back into his jeans, the blush growing a deeper shade of red on his cheeks as he zipped himself up. The shame was written all over his face and his poor tensed body looked extremely hard done by. But you didn't care, he could well have stopped you and he didn't.

"It's done now," you shrug, "I'm not telling."

"I think you should go," Alex couldn't stand how casual you were being. His heart was racing beneath his chest and he had to sit on the edge of the bed and hold his head in his hands, his gaze well away from you to try and form a coherent thought.

You weren't really bothered. He was cute but you've had your fix. With a gentle sigh, you turn in your pep and head for his door.

"Bye cutie," you looked round briefly to find him leant on his thighs, head in hands. Oh well, what's done is done.

🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩

A/N: this has been lingering in my drafts for a few days. I promise at some point I’ll write something other than fetus Al LOL (I love him sm). found this so cute 🥲 what’s wrong with me

[wandercatt]

september 24, 2024

i’m still in the same town, though life looks different now—a better neighborhood, a better life. every day i pass by the place where i was abandoned, left to figure it all out on my own at sixteen. the streets are the same, cracked and uneven. a few buildings have changed just enough to hide their age, but beneath it all, the weight of the past still lingers in the air. and i still recognize the faces—the ones that never left, the ones trapped in the same routines.

sometimes i wonder what it would feel like to run into my younger self. to spot that long-haired, scrawny kid stumbling through the streets, hungry, confused—lost in every way a sixteen-year-old shouldn't be. i can almost see him now, drifting like a ghost, eyes hollow and searching for something, anything, that could make it all bearable.

it’s been five years since i clawed my way out of that life, but some days, it feels like i’m still stuck there. the pain never quite fades. it’s woven into my bones, a constant reminder of the kid i used to be. i’ve built something better now, something i never thought i’d have, but there are nights when i still wish i could send my voice echoing back through time. just to tell him it’s going to be okay.

i want to grab him by the shoulders and make him see: that we're ok now, we live in a two-storey apartment now, where friends laugh in the living room and there’s no more rain leaking through the ceiling. that i've got a perfectly working air conditioning that hums softly, and a fridge full of all the things he used to dream of, more than enough to fill the gnawing hunger that haunted him. i don’t flinch at knocks on the door anymore; it’s not the lineman coming to cut off the electricity. and i don’t have to walk miles just to get from one place to the next, hell i'd give him the keys if i could.

if only he could see it. if only i could reach him.

we turned out okay, kid. i owe it to you for hanging on, for not giving in, for resisting the noose; you held on when the world gave you nothing to hold onto. you kept us alive, and because of that—we’re here. we’re okay.

we turned out okay, buddy.

[chainslobber]

Isn't it funny how Eri's whole plotline was that she had to learn how to smile?

Isn't it funny how she was with Pops for a while who could've given her anything she wanted and she still wasn't happy?

Isn't it funny how we never saw Kai smile--not once--in the entirety of his character development? And people are going 'well at least Pops gave him a home-"

Kinda seems like he was a piece of shit, just saying.

[uncanny-tranny]

One thing I really enjoy about transition is when the changes in hormones slow down...

It feels like I am a house settling, shifting ever-so-slightly, and becoming one with this new foundation.

I don't have a "typical" body, but so do the other guys in my family. I look like them now. I've been told I looked like my father when he was a teenager, and I feel as though I am in the mentality I need to be in.

So many people are excited when they get all these new changes all at once, and then they might become disappointed when their second puberty starts to slow down, but I find I am the opposite. I am so much more at peace than I was before, and that's saying something when I was at peace a month into my changes.