#the act of touching lips is meaningless all that matters is intent

[laudofthedeep]

thinking about the time in 6th grade when my classmates were like “would you kiss a boy for $200” and things like that, always the same gender as whoever was being addressed, price going down as people kept discussing. some of them were getting real bashful about it, which was probably part of the whole social game.

i, however, had no particular understanding of social cues nor sexual attraction to EITHER gender, so i flung myself into the conversation with a cry of “Cowards! id kiss one for $3!”

this, of course, led to the subsequent restraint of the nearest available victim, a call to my parents, and a plea deal that forced me to split my hard earned money with the unwilling party

[kckt88]

The Lost Dragon 2 - I'll Never Let You Go.

Summary:

A King loses his Queen.

Warnings - Death, Grief, Mourning.

AEMOND TARGARYEN x O.C -VAELYS TARGARYEN

Word Count: 5890

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8

"Vaelys, my love," Aemond began, his voice barely audible. "Please, don't leave me. I can't cope without you. You're my strength, my light. I don't know how to live in a world where you're not by my side."

He squeezed her hand gently, as if the mere act could tether her soul to this world. "I can't lose you," he continued, his sobs growing more pronounced. "I won't survive it. You're everything to me, Vaelys. My Queen, my heart. I don't know how to go on without you."

Aemond's tears fell onto her blanket, creating tiny, darkened spots on the fabric. He pressed his forehead onto her shoulder, his body shaking with the force of his sobs. "-I love you so much."

The room seemed to close in around him, the oppressive silence amplifying his grief. He could hear the distant murmurs of the Maesters, but their words were meaningless to him now. All that mattered was the woman lying in his arms, the woman who held his heart.

The realm could go to the seven hells, for all he cared.

As the night deepened, Aemond continued to whisper his desperate pleas, his voice raw with emotion. "You promised me a lifetime, Vaelys. Don't let this be the end. I can't do this without you. Please, come back to me. Please-"

Exhausted, he laid his head beside hers on the pillow, still holding her hand tightly, his tears mingling with the strands of her silver hair.

As dawn's light began to seep through the heavy curtains of the chamber, Vaelys stirred. Her eyes fluttered open, and she found Aemond still nestled beside her, his face etched with worry and exhaustion. His eye, though filled with sorrow, softened as he saw her wake. He leaned in, his breath catching in his throat.

"Vaelys," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion.

Vaelys managed a faint smile, her hand reaching up to touch his cheek. "Aemond," she said softly, her voice weak but filled with love. "My brave dragon. My heart."

Aemond clutched her hand, bringing it to his lips. "I'm afraid," he admitted, his voice breaking. "I don't know how to live without you."

Vaelys shook her head gently. "Aemond, my love, you have given me everything. Because of you, I've had a life filled with joy, with love. Our children-they are a testament to our bond. You've made me the happiest woman in the world."

Tears welled up in Aemond's eye again, but he listened intently, holding onto her every word.

"You are my twin flame," she continued, her voice growing steadier. "In you, I found my other half, my soulmate. We've faced so much together, and through it all, you've been my rock, my strength. I am so grateful for every moment we've shared."

Aemond's tears fell freely now, his heart aching with the intensity of his love for her. "Vaelys, I don't want to face the world without you. You are my everything."

Vaelys smiled, her eyes shining with affection and a deep, abiding love. "And you are mine, Aemond. Always remember that no matter what happens. Our love is eternal. It transcends time, and nothing can change that."

She took a shaky breath, her gaze never leaving his. "You have to be strong, for our children, for our legacy."

Aemond nodded, though his heart felt like it was breaking. "I will, Vaelys. I promise. But please, don't leave me-"

Vaelys cupped his face with her hand, her touch gentle and filled with tenderness. "I love you, Aemond. More than words can express. No matter where I am, a part of me will always be with you. In your heart, in our children's laughter, in the legacy we've built together."

She closed her eyes, her strength waning. "Thank you for loving me, for giving me a life filled with wonder and joy. I will always be with you, my love. Always."

Vaelys stirred, her eyes fluttering open to meet Aemond’s. She managed a faint smile, her hand weakly reaching up to touch his cheek. "My Aemond," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "My dragon."

Aemond leaned in closer, his heart aching. "Vaelys, I'm here," he said, his voice trembling. "I'm right here."

"I’m so tired, Aemond," she admitted, her voice frail and filled with exhaustion. "So very tired."

Aemond's tears began to fall, dropping onto the silken blankets that covered her. "I know, my love," he said, his voice breaking.

Vaelys looked at him with eyes full of love and sorrow. "I-I don’t want to leave you," she whispered, her voice quivering.

Aemond clutched her hand even tighter, his tears flowing freely now. "If you need to rest, Vaelys, you can," he said, though every word felt like a dagger to his heart. "If you need to go, it’s okay-“

Vaelys' eyes filled with tears as well, and she nodded weakly. "I love you, Aemond. More than anything in this world. You’ve given me a life filled with love and joy. I will always be with you, in your heart."

Aemond leaned down, pressing his forehead against hers. "And I will always love you, Vaelys. Forever and always."

Vaelys' hand slipped from his cheek, and her eyes closed as her strength finally waned. She took one last, shallow breath, her body relaxing in his arms. Aemond felt her go limp, a wrenching sob escaping his lips as he realized she was gone.

"Vaelys-" whispered Aemond, his voice breaking.

He held her close, his body shaking with the force of his grief. The room was silent, save for the crackling of the fire and the sound of Aemond's heartbroken sobs. In that moment, the world seemed to stop, and Aemond knew that nothing would ever be the same without his beloved Queen.

Aemond screams of heartbreak and anguish echoed throughout the Red Keep, a mournful sound that reached the ears of everyone within its walls. The guards outside the chamber exchanged solemn glances, their hearts heavy with the sorrow that filled the air. Servants paused in their duties, bowing their heads in silent respect for the King Consort's grief.

Aemond rocked back and forth, holding Vaelys tightly, as if his embrace alone could somehow bring her back. "I love you," he sobbed, his voice hoarse and desperate. "I love you more than anything. You were my everything, my heart, my soul. How am I supposed to go on without you?"

He pressed his forehead against hers, his body wracked with uncontrollable sobs. The room felt colder, emptier, as if the very essence of joy and life had been stripped away with her passing. "Vaelys, please," he whispered, his voice a broken plea. "-Not yet."

But there was no response, no gentle touch to soothe his pain, no loving words to ease his despair. Vaelys was gone, her spirit departed, leaving Aemond to face a world that felt unbearably dark and empty without her.

As his cries of grief continued to echo through the Red Keep, the people within its walls mourned alongside their king consort.

"Your Grace, please allow us to enter. We must tend to the Queen."

Aemond's response was immediate and fierce. "NO" he shouted, his voice raw with anguish. "No one is to enter. No one will touch her."

Maester Clarke exchanged a worried glance with the other servants and guards. "Your Grace," he tried again, his tone gentle but insistent, "-The Silent Sisters must be allowed to prepare her- It is tradition."

Aemond's grip on Vaelys tightened, his eye blazing with a mixture of sorrow and fury. "I won't let them take her," he said, his voice breaking. "I won't let anyone take her from me."

"Father," called Sovia softly, "Please. Let us in-let them help. Mother deserves the proper rites."

Aemond shook his head vehemently, tears streaming down his face. "No. I can't let her go. I can't bear it."

"Father, we understand your pain, but Mother wouldn't want this. She would want us to honour her properly,” said Daevyn.

"We must be strong, Father. For Mother. For each other. She would want us to carry on, to honour her memory with dignity” whispered Aemon.

Aemond's body shook with sobs as he held Vaelys closer. "I can't," he cried. "I can't say goodbye."

“We're here, Father," Rekara said softly. "We're all here to help-to get through this together. But you need to let them in."

“Father-“ uttered Jacaerys.

But Aemond would not be swayed. His grief had turned to rage, a tempest of emotions that threatened to consume him. "I won't listen to any of you!" he spat, his voice thick with anger. "I won't let anyone take her away from me!"

"Grandpa-it's Vhalarr. Can I come in?"

With a heavy sigh, he rose from his seat, his steps heavy as he approached the door.

Slowly, he opened it just a crack, his eye meeting Vhalarr's with a mixture of grief and gratitude.

Vhalarr stepped into the chamber, his heart aching at the sight of his grandfather's pain. He crossed the threshold, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

The room was silent save for the sound of their breathing, the weight of their grief hanging heavy in the air. Aemond stood before him, a broken figure bathed in shadows, his sorrow etched deep into the lines of his face.

Vhalarr approached him slowly, his footsteps echoing softly against the stone floor. "Grandpa," he said gently, his voice filled with compassion. "I'm here for you. Whatever you need, I'm here."

As Aemond turned to face him, his facade of strength crumbled, and he collapsed into Vhalarr's arms, his body wracked with sobs. Vhalarr caught him instinctively, holding him close as the weight of his grief threatened to crush him.

Aemond's cries echoed through the chamber, a raw and anguished sound that tore at Vhalarr's heart. He held his grandfather tightly, offering what little comfort he could, knowing that no words could ease the pain of losing someone so dear.

For what felt like an eternity, they remained locked in their embrace, the only sound the desperate sound of Aemond's weeping.

"Grandpa," Vhalarr said gently, his voice steady despite the turmoil in his heart. "I know this is hard, but we need to let the Silent Sisters in. They can help prepare Grandma for her final journey."

Aemond's body tensed at the mention of the Silent Sisters, his grief-fuelled resolve still strong. But Vhalarr held onto him tighter, refusing to let him push everyone away.

"They will treat her with the utmost respect, Grandpa," Vhalarr continued, his voice soft but firm.

Aemond remained silent for a long moment, his body trembling with silent sobs. Vhalarr could feel the weight of his grandfather's grief pressing down on him, threatening to drown them both.

Finally, with a shaky breath, Aemond nodded, his resistance crumbling in the face of Vhalarr's unwavering support. "Okay," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the echoes of his sorrow. "Let them in."

Vhalarr released a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding, relief flooding through him. With gentle hands, he helped Aemond to his feet, guiding him to the bed where Vaelys lay.

Together, they watched as the Silent Sisters entered the chamber, their movements graceful and reverent as they approached the bed.

But as they moved to lift Vaelys from the bed, Aemond's hand shot out, grasping the edge of the sheet with a fierce determination. "No," he said, his voice hoarse with emotion.

The Silent Sisters exchanged uneasy glances, "We must take her now, Your Grace," one of the sisters said gently, her voice filled with sympathy. "It is not proper for you to witness-"

But Aemond cut her off with a fierce shake of his head. "I don't care about propriety," he said, his voice trembling with emotion. "I won't leave her side. Not now, not ever."

Vhalarr stepped forward, placing a hand on his grandfather's shoulder, his eyes filled with understanding. "Grandpa," he said softly, "Please. Let them take her-“

But Aemond's gaze remained fixed on Vaelys' still form, his determination unwavering. "I won't leave her," he repeated, his voice barely a whisper. "I can't."

In the chambers of the Silent Sisters, Aemond stood with a heavy heart, watching as they prepared Vaelys' body. The air was heavy with silence, broken only by the soft rustle of fabric and the hushed whispers of the sisters as they went about their sacred task.

As they reached for the linens to wrap Vaelys' body, Aemond's hand shot out, his voice firm and resolute. "Stop," he said, his tone commanding yet filled with a quiet intensity. "I'll do it. I shall be the last to touch her"

The Silent Sisters hesitated, surprised by Aemond's sudden assertion. But they could see the determination in his eye, the love and reverence he held for his beloved wife.

With a nod of understanding, they stepped back, allowing Aemond to approach Vaelys' still form. He stood before her, his hands trembling slightly as he reached out to gently caress her cold cheek, his touch lingering with a tenderness born of a lifetime of love.

Leaning down, Aemond pressed a soft kiss to Vaelys' forehead, his lips lingering against her pale skin for a moment before he straightened, his resolve firm.

“I love you-“

With steady hands, he began to wrap her body in the white linens, his movements slow and deliberate. Each fold was a testament to the depth of his love, a silent vow to honour her memory with the utmost care and reverence.

As he worked, the Silent Sisters watched in silence, their hearts heavy with sympathy for the grieving King Consort.

But Aemond remained steadfast, his focus unwavering as he carefully completed the task. And when he was done, he stood back, his hands resting on the shrouded form of his beloved wife.

With tears streaming down his cheeks, Aemond looked upon Vaelys one last time, his heart heavy with grief yet filled with a quiet sense of peace.

With a choked sob, Aemond collapsed to his knees, his body wracked with the force of his grief. His cries echoed through the silent chamber, a haunting lament for the woman he had loved so deeply the woman who had been his everything.

Aemond felt a hand rest gently on his shoulder, a silent gesture of support and understanding. He looked up through tear-blurred eyes to see Vhalarr standing beside him, his own cheeks stained with tears.

"Grandpa," Vhalarr said softly, his voice thick with emotion. "You're not alone. I'm here with you."

Aemond lay curled up on the bed he had shared with Vaelys, her absence a palpable ache in the air. The scent of her lingered on the sheets, a haunting reminder of the love they had shared and the emptiness that now filled his heart.

Suddenly, the door swung open, flooding the room with light and the sound of hushed whispers. Aemond looked up, his eye bleary with tears, to see his children entering the room, their faces etched with sorrow and compassion.

Without a word, they climbed onto the bed, surrounding their father with their presence. One by one, they wrapped their arms around him, pulling him close in a silent embrace.

Aemond buried his face in the crook of Sovia's neck, his body shaking with silent sobs. Daevyn placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, his own tears mingling with his father's. Aemon and Rekara held onto him tightly, offering silent support, while Jacaerys leaned in close, his voice barely more than a whisper.

"We're here, Father," he said softly. "We're here for you."

Together, they lay on the bed, their bodies forming a protective circle around Aemond. They held him close, offering what little comfort they could as he grieved the loss of the woman who had been the heart of their family.

As the sombre toll of the bells echoed through the streets of King's Landing, the city mourned the passing of their beloved Queen. The people lined the cobblestone streets, their faces etched with sorrow as they watched the procession pass by.

Flower petals drifted through the air like tears, their vibrant colours a stark contrast to the grey skies above. The scent of roses and lilies mingled with the heavy weight of grief, filling the air with a bittersweet fragrance.

At the head of the procession, a grand carriage draped in black carried the shrouded form of Queen Vaelys.

But it was not the carriage that drew the attention of the crowd—it was the figure walking behind it, his head bowed, and his shoulders stooped with the weight of his sorrow.

Aemond had, refused to sit in a carriage or ride a horse. Instead, he walked behind his Queen, his steps slow and measured, his gaze fixed on the ground before him.

With each step, Aemond felt the weight of his grief pressing down on him, threatening to crush him beneath its relentless weight.

The people of King's Landing watched in silence as Aemond passed by, their hearts heavy with sympathy for the grieving King Consort.

But as they lined the streets, their silent presence spoke volumes, a testament to the love and respect they held for their Queen and the man who had loved her so fiercely. And as the funeral procession disappeared from view, Aemond walked on, his silent vigil a poignant tribute to the woman who had meant everything to him.

As the funeral procession wound its solemn path through the streets of King's Landing, the sky above was suddenly filled with the majestic form of Vermithor.

With each powerful beat of his wings, he soared through the air, his massive form casting a shadow over the grieving city below.

The mournful song of Vermithor echoed through the streets, a haunting melody that seemed to pierce the hearts of all who heard it. His sorrowful cries filled the air, a lament for the loss of his beloved rider.

As the funeral procession reached the grassy banks outside of King's Landing, Aemond stood with a heavy heart, his eyes fixed on the spot where Vaelys' body now lay. The air was heavy with grief, the solemnity of the moment weighing down on him like a leaden cloak.

With a deep breath, Aemond approached the pyre, his steps slow and deliberate. His heart pounded in his chest as he looked down at Vaelys' shrouded form.

In his shaking hands, he held a daisy chain-made by his youngest great granddaughter, a simple yet poignant symbol of the love they had shared. With trembling fingers, he placed it gently on her wrapped body, the delicate flowers a stark contrast to the starkness of death.

Closing his eye, Aemond bowed his head in silent prayer, his thoughts filled with memories of the woman he had loved so deeply. He whispered words of farewell, his voice barely more than a whisper, as tears streamed down his cheeks.

And then, as if in response to his grief, Vhagar descended from the sky with a thunderous roar. Her massive wings beat the air, stirring up clouds of dust and debris as she landed beside the pyre, the great dragon lowering her head low in a silent gesture of sorrow and respect for the passing of her rider’s love.

The time had come for him to give the command to Vhagar, to ignite the pyre and send his beloved Queen on her final journey.

But as he opened his mouth to speak, to utter the word that would set the flames alight, he found that the words wouldn't come. His throat felt tight, his tongue heavy with the weight of his sorrow. Try as he might, he couldn't bring himself to give the command.

A sense of panic washed over Aemond as he struggled to find his voice, his hands trembling at his sides.

But then, a gentle hand slipped into his own, grounding him in the present moment. Aemond looked up to see Sovia, standing beside him, her eyes filled with determination and strength.

Without a word, Sovia glanced towards Silverwing, who stood nearby, and in that moment, Aemond understood.

With her voice firm and unwavering, Sovia gave the command that Aemond could not. "Dracarys," she said, her voice carrying across the quiet clearing.

As the flames roared and danced before him, casting a flickering glow over the clearing, Aemond felt an overwhelming urge to step forward, to immerse himself in the searing heat of the dragon's fire. It was as if a voice whispered to him, urging him to join his beloved Queen in her final journey.

With a heavy heart, Aemond took a tentative step forward, his eye fixed on the blazing pyre before him. For a brief, fleeting instant, it seemed as though he would surrender himself to the flames, to the consuming embrace of fire and ash.

But then, as if sensing his intentions, the hands of his children closed around him, pulling him back. Their grip was firm and unwavering, their voices filled with concern and determination.

"Father, no!" Sovia cried out, her voice echoing through the clearing.

Aemond looked into the eyes of his children, his heart heavy with sorrow and gratitude. In that moment, he realized the depth of their love, the strength of their bond.

With a trembling breath, Aemond allowed himself to be pulled back from the flames, his steps faltering as he collapsed into the arms of his children.

Sovia stood at the forefront, her expression stoic yet resolute. Her mother's crown, a symbol of power and authority, was placed upon her head with great reverence, its weight a reminder of the responsibilities that now rested upon her shoulders.

Beside her stood her husband, Daevyn, his own expression solemn yet supportive. The crown of their father, now passed down to him, sat upon his head, a testament to the legacy of their family.

With a steady voice, the High Septon stepped forward, his words echoing through the clearing as he declared Sovia the new queen of the Seven Kingdoms. The crowd fell silent, their eyes fixed on the newly crowned queen and her king consort, their hearts heavy with the weight of the moment.

Sovia held herself with grace and dignity as she accepted her new role, her gaze unwavering as she surveyed the faces of her subjects. She knew that the road ahead would be fraught with challenges and trials, but she was determined to lead her people with wisdom and compassion, just as her mother had done before her.

Beside her, Daevyn stood tall and proud, his hand clasped tightly in hers as they faced the future together.

Alone in the dimly lit chambers of the Red Keep, Aemond sat in solitude, his heart heavy with grief and his mind consumed by memories of the woman he had loved with all his being.

The coronation of his children, Sovia and Daevyn, should have been a moment of great joy and celebration, a testament to the enduring strength of their family and the resilience of the realm.

But for Aemond, the thought of attending such an event was unbearable.

Instead, he remained hidden away in his chambers. He sat before the crackling fireplace, the warmth of the flames a stark contrast to the cold emptiness that filled his heart.

In his trembling hands, he clutched a robe that belonged to Vaelys. The fabric was soft and worn, the scent of her perfume lingering on it like a bittersweet reminder of the life they had shared together.

With each breath, Aemond drank in the familiar scent, allowing it to envelop him in a cocoon of memories and longing. He closed his eye, his mind drifting back to happier times, when laughter and love had filled the halls of the Red Keep, and Vaelys had been by his side, radiant and full of life.

But now she was gone, her absence a gaping hole in his heart that could never be filled. And though he knew he should attend the coronation of his children, to fulfil his duty as the previous King Consort, he could not bring himself to leave the safety of his chambers.

Eventually exhaustion overtook him. His eyelid growing heavy with the weight of his sorrow, and soon, he succumbed to the embrace of sleep.

In the quiet of the chamber, the flickering flames of the fireplace cast dancing shadows across the room, and Aemond drifted into a fitful slumber. His dreams were haunted by memories of Vaelys, her laughter echoing in the recesses of his mind, her gentle touch a fleeting sensation against his skin.

But as sleep began to loosen its grip on him, Aemond felt a gentle touch on his shoulder, pulling him back to consciousness. He stirred, his mind still clouded with the haze of sleep, and for a brief moment, he thought he heard Vaelys' voice calling his name.

"Vaelys?" he murmured, his voice thick with sleep as he reached out instinctively, expecting to find her warm embrace.

But instead, his hand met with empty air, and he blinked away the remnants of his dreams to find Sovia standing before him, her face etched with concern.

"Father," she said softly, her voice breaking through the fog of his mind. "It's me, Sovia."

Aemond's heart clenched with a sudden surge of grief as reality crashed over him like a tidal wave. He looked up at his daughter, his eyes brimming with tears, and in that moment, he saw the ghost of Vaelys reflected in her features.

"Sovia," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "I'm sorry. I thought-"

But Sovia reached out a hand, gently brushing away the tears that streaked his cheeks. "It's okay, Father," she said, her voice filled with compassion. "I understand."

And in that moment, Aemond felt his grief swallow him whole once more, consuming him with its overwhelming intensity. He buried his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs as the weight of his loss pressed down upon him like a leaden shroud.

Sovia knelt beside him, wrapping her arms around him in a comforting embrace, offering him solace in the midst of his pain. And as they sat together in the quiet of the chamber, father and daughter bound by their shared sorrow.

In the weeks that followed Vaelys' death, Aemond retreated further into the solitude of his grief, his heart heavy with the weight of his loss. The once vibrant halls of the Red Keep now felt empty and cold, their echoes a painful reminder of the woman who had brought light and warmth into his life.

Day after day, Aemond shut himself away in his chambers, seeking solace in the silence and solitude. He spent hours sitting before the fireplace, the flames casting flickering shadows across the room as he stared into the dancing embers, lost in memories of the past.

At times, he would take out parchment and quill, penning letters to Vaelys that he knew she would never read. He poured his heart out onto the page, his words a desperate plea to the heavens, a futile attempt to bridge the chasm that now separated them.

But no matter how many letters he wrote, no matter how many tears he shed, the ache of his loss remained unchanged, a gaping wound that refused to heal. And so, he would sit, lost in his thoughts, his heart heavy with the burden of his grief, praying to whoever was listening to just let him die, he had promised her-but this was one promise he couldn’t keep, he couldn’t exist without her-he didn’t want to exist without her.

Outside his window, the sky stretched endlessly overhead, a vast expanse of blue that seemed to mock him with its boundless freedom. Aemond would stare up at the heavens, his eyes tracing the path of the stars as they shimmered in the darkness, wondering if somewhere among them, Vaelys was watching over him.

But no matter how long he stared, no matter how hard he searched, he found no solace in the vastness of the sky. For his queen was gone, lost to him forever, and no amount of longing or despair could bring her back.

As Aemond lay in bed, enveloped in the silence of his chambers, he felt the weight of his grief pressing down on him like a suffocating blanket. The memories of Vaelys haunted him, her absence a constant ache in his heart that refused to fade.

And then, as if from the depths of his own longing, he heard her voice—a soft, melodic whisper that sent shivers down his spine. It was as if she were calling out to him from beyond the veil, a beckoning from a world he could not see.

For a moment, Aemond's heart soared with hope, his mind filled with the possibility of reunion with his beloved Queen. He closed his eyes, his breath catching in his throat as he reached out, as if to grasp hold of her ephemeral presence.

But then, a sense of peace washed over him, a calmness that seemed to settle deep within his soul. He realized then that he was ready, ready to let go of the pain and sorrow that had consumed him for so long.

With a sense of finality, Aemond closed his eye once more, surrendering himself to the embrace of the unknown. He felt as though something were reaching out for him, a gentle hand guiding him towards the light.

As Aemond slowly stirred from his slumber, he was met with a sensation unlike anything he had ever experienced before. Surrounding him was a blinding light, so intense that it seemed to sear through the darkness of his dreams and into the waking world.

Blinking against the brightness, Aemond raised a hand to shield his face, his heart pounding in his chest as he tried to make sense of his surroundings. Everything felt strange, yet familiar at the same time, he was in his chambers but as his vision began to adjust to the light, Aemond realized something even more astonishing—there was no pain. No dull ache that had plagued him for so long, no phantom twinge of the scar that had marred his face since childhood.

With trembling fingers, he reached up to touch his face, his breath catching in his throat as he realized what he had found. His left eye, the one that had been lost to him for so many years, was whole once more.

It was a sensation he had almost forgotten, the feeling of having two eyes instead of one.

He stood in front of the looking glass and was stunned at his youthful reflection staring back at him, over the years his hair hair grown grey and his face lined with wrinkles but here now-his hair was silver and his face smooth and sculpted.

What was going on?

As Aemond stood in the threshold of his chambers, the sound of laughter danced on the air, drawing him irresistibly forward. With each step he took, the laughter grew louder, filling him with a sense of warmth and joy.

And then, he stepped through the doorway and found himself standing in the midst of the gardens, bathed in the golden light of the sun. The warmth of its rays washed over him, chasing away the shadows of his grief and filling him with a sense of renewal.

Beneath his feet, the grass was soft and, tickling his bare skin as he walked. The scent of flowers hung heavy in the air, their delicate fragrance a symphony of colours and shapes that surrounded him on all sides.

And as he wandered through the garden, basking in the warmth of the sun and the gentle embrace of nature, Aemond felt a sense of peace settle over him.

Then he saw her, sitting amidst a bed of wildflowers, her hands deftly weaving daisy chains with a grace and ease that took his breath away.

She looked so beautiful, her youthful skin glowing in the warm sunlight, her smile radiant. Aemond's heart swelled with a mixture of joy and disbelief as he watched her, unable to tear his eyes away from the vision before him.

"Vaelys," he whispered, his voice trembling with awe and love.

She smiled, that same tender, loving smile that had always made his heart skip a beat.  “I’ve been waiting for you."

Aemond sank to his knees beside her and reached out, cupping her face in his hands, his fingers tracing the familiar contours of her features.

"I missed you so much," he said, his voice breaking with emotion.

Vaelys placed her hands over his, her touch grounding him in the reality of their reunion. "I missed you too, Aemond," she replied, her eyes glistening with tears. "But now we’re together again, and we have an eternity to share."

He leaned in, resting his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling in the still air of the garden.

Without a word, he pressed his lips to hers, the kiss soft and tender.

It was a kiss that spoke of love, longing, and the promise of forever. In that moment, Aemond knew he was home. His heart was whole once more, mended by the presence of the woman who had always been it's other half.

When they finally pulled apart, Vaelys smiled up at him, her eyes twinkling with mischief and affection. She patted the ground beside her, indicating for him to sit. "Come," she said, her voice as warm and inviting as the sunlit garden around them. "It's time you learned how to make daisy chains."

Aemond chuckled, feeling a lightness in his heart as he settled down beside her. Vaelys reached over and placed a pile of picked daisies in his lap, their delicate petals soft against his skin. She took one flower and began to demonstrate, her fingers nimble and sure as she wove the stems together.

"Watch closely," she instructed, her tone playful yet patient. "It's simple once you get the hang of it."

Aemond watched her intently, his eyes following the movement of her hands. He picked up a daisy and tried to mimic her actions, his larger hands fumbling slightly with the delicate stems. Vaelys laughed softly, her laughter a melody that filled the air with joy.

"Like this," she said, guiding his hands with hers. Together, they worked on the daisy chain, their fingers brushing against each other in a dance of love and connection.

As they wove the flowers together, Aemond felt an overwhelming sense of peace and contentment. Each daisy added to the chain was a symbol of their unbroken bond, a testament to the love that had transcended time and death.

"There you go," Vaelys said, holding up their finished creation. "See? You did it."

Aemond smiled, pride and happiness radiating from him. He took the daisy chain from her hands and gently placed it on her head, crowning her with the delicate flowers.

"Thank you," he whispered, his voice filled with gratitude and love. "For everything."

Vaelys reached up and touched the daisy chain, her eyes shining with tears of joy. "We're together now, Aemond," she said softly. "That's all that matters."

And as they sat in the sunlit garden, surrounded by the beauty of nature and the love they shared, Aemond knew that he had found his paradise. With Vaelys by his side, his heart was whole, and he was finally at peace.

[beommiya]

"Nope, I am not tired." Xuan smiled and finally got out of bed, looking forward to giving Kibum that massage and feeling his warm body under his touch. He too craved closeness, both physical and emotional, having been starved of this kind of a connection for a very long time. Sure, he had one night stands and people coming and going all the time, but everything felt empty and meaningless. Just a mere mean of satisfying his own physical desires and needs, nothing more, but too little to actually fill that emptiness inside him of actually having a real bond and connection that mattered.

Reaching the drawers once again, he starts looking inside one of them for the massage oils. He knew that he still had a few flavors that felt and smelt really good and now he wanted to find one that would suit Kibum. The boy reminded him of the warm summer sun or a summer breeze, giving him a sense of peace and serenity, so Xuan thought that what would suit him best would maybe be either cherries or strawberries, because above all, Kibum was a very sweet individual. "What would you like most? Cherry scent or strawberry scent? Both smell amazing, but I want to use the one you like the most." He raises up the two oil bottles, for Kibum to point at the one that suited best his preferences.

Eventually, once the choice is made, the young mob makes his way towards the bed and sits down besides Kibum, pulling the blanket off of him. Even if there were no naughty intentions in the act itself, a playful smirk played at Xuan's mouth's corners as he looked at Kibum. "Hold a grudge against you? Never my dear. And shouldn't I be the one asking that question?" He chuckles and leans in closer to Kibum. "And to answer your final question, yes, you can have both the massage and the cuddles and anything else your heart might desire, for that matter.~ But first, in order to give you the massage, I will have to take your shirt off. Will you let me?" Xuan waits for the answer, patiently.

Kibum never had one night stands. But he never experienced this type of need for closeness as well as attraction towards someone before either. Sure, Ian was a handsome man, but the trauma bond between them never allowed Kibum much space for the type of relationship his heart desired. It was one-sided, and it wasn't even a real thing but the fruit of his own imagination. The feeling was extremely new and exciting. He had no expectations from Xuan, though. He couldn't tell if Xuan wanted just a good time or more or if it was the whiskey in his system talking. Either way, Kibum wanted to experience what having a crush really felt like and enjoy it as much as Xuan allowed him to.

Curious eyes were on Xuan, and his actions at all times, mindlessly biting his lip when he presented Kibum his options. He pondered for a bit. He loved both just as much, but having both was not an option. "I think I will pick the cherry one. Do you like cherries?" Strawberry would have been too predictable, and cherry flavour was usually much stronger and more natural in scent than strawberry. Cherries also had an almost warm aroma, and it would suit the atmosphere between them better than the freshness of strawberries.

Finally, Xuan was there with him, and for a split second, the time stopped, especially when Xuan leaned in closer. He almost leaned up, giving into the desire of feeling Xuan's lips against his own, but right before doing it, he decided against it. No, rejection was something he could not be able to bear right now. He was mesmerised by his voice, his piercing eyes. Anything he desired? Those words made him consider that maybe rejection was not on the table right now. He was about to unbutton his own pajama top, but having Xuan actually do it for him sounded much better. "Yes, please... take my shirt off."

@phoenix-of-jade

[yunhoez]

Coincide

pairings: timeskip!suna rintaro x f!reader

genre: smut, FLUFF, tiny bit of angst like for 2 seconds, followed by more fluff

warnings: NSFW 18+, swearing, orgasm denial, public sex, breeding, "bunny", not proofread (its 3 am), I think that's it but pls let me know if I missed anything

a/n: this is really self indulgent, I had this thought in the shower and something about my trash ass ex seeing me happy with suna makes my brain go brrrrr. don't worry, I'm working on that in therapy :D anyways this is my first time writing smut, lol bye! hope y'all enjoy!!! <3

There’s no reason to attend a high school reunion with people you never liked nor thought of in years. Meaningless chatter mixed with the stench of beer, while the god awful fluorescent lights sting your eyes didn’t sound appealing to you. Yet here you are, standing against the wall of the poorly decorated banquet hall with a drink you’ve hardly touched. The “Welcome Class of 2017” banner in front of you, reminded you of just how little time has passed since you’ve seen these people. If it were up to you, you would’ve ignored the e-vite and binged a show you’ve seen 100 times already. However, your sweet boyfriend, Suna Rintaro, was so eager to see where you spent your teen years and the people who knew you way before he did. Not that they would have very many stories about you, considering how much you kept to yourself, but that didn’t stop Suna from RSVPing on your behalf.

“I fucking hate you.” you spat, taking a sip of your drink, wincing at the strength.

“I know.” suna smirked, handing you his beer and taking your drink for himself.

The both of you stood close together, watching people fein happiness at the sight of each other. What was the point in attending these events if not to show off how much better you’re doing to people who no longer matter to you, if they ever did that is. Suna nudged you lightly, motioning towards a group of people coming toward the two of you.

“Hey! I didn’t think you’d be here!”

“Yeah! Me neither!” you giggle, shooting a glare towards Suna who’s already grinning at you.

Suna knows you hate small talk, but something about seeing you perk up at the memories you’ve seemingly forgotten made him feel warm inside. Although you never wanted to admit it, you missed the people who made your teen years a little less terrible. Suna wrapped his arms around your waist, settling his chin onto your head, as the two of you listened to your friends reminisce about your antics.

“I’m telling you, this girl was in detention every single day!”

“Don’t act like you weren’t there with me!” you huffed, feeling Suna’s chest rumble with laughter. No one had ever taken much interest in your life, except for Suna. It was safe to say you had no idea how to react to his attentiveness when it came to you. You looked up at him, watching how he was soaking in the memories of you, that he didn’t get to witness. He smiles widely at the thought of you picking at your chicken sandwiches, only for you to eat the bread and call it lunch.

You notice the crinkle in his eyes, as he catches you in photos on the projector screen. You cover your face, a blush creeping onto your cheeks, as everyone awes at their younger selves. Suna grabs hold of your hands and pulls them down from your face, placing a kiss on your cheek.

“You know if I went to your school, I would’ve been afraid of you.”

“Says the one who looks bored out of his mind all the time.” you tease him, your gaze still fixed on the dimly lit screen.

“Guess we’re soulmates then.” he hums into your ear, tightening his grip around your waist.

The night went by smoothly, well as smooth as it can get when you’re surrounded by people who most definitely hated each other. Suna leads you to the bar, ordering a round of shots for the two of you.

“If we’re going to be here, we might as well take advantage of the open bar.” he grins, pouring salt onto your hand and handing you the tiny glass.

“I’m sure that’s the only reason so many people showed up.” you respond, licking the salt and downing the burning liquid. Suna brings a lime wedge to your lips, you suck on it lightly as he watches you intently. He brings it to his own mouth, draining the remainder of the juice before neatly folding it in a napkin.

“So what’s the story with those two over there?” he motions to the couple arguing a few feet from you.

“Them? They always do that, one minute they’re in love and the next they’re having a Twitter war.” you say, signaling the bartender for another round.

“Does that mean we’ll get to read some drama tonight?” Suna perks up, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. You giggle, clinking your glasses together and savoring the tequila running through you quicker than you expected.

“Already feeling it, pretty?”

“Pft. No, I’m just feelin’ fuzzy.”

Suna turns you to face him, his eyes starting to glaze over from the drinks. Everything around you feels hazy, but his touch is amplified as he taps on your lips to open. He wedges the lime into your mouth, gaze fixed on the way you swallow the tart juice and pucker your lips. Placing the fruit in his glass, he attaches his lips to yours, groaning at the mix of your sweetness and the sour taste of citrus. The lingering taste of tequila was replaced with his own, your body getting drunk off of him more so than the alcohol. He places his hand onto the small of your back, pressing you into him and eliminating any space between you two. A firm poke to your thigh was enough for you to have you moan softly into his mouth. He pulls away, a string of saliva connecting you two before snapping back onto his lips. He licks them, relishing in the haze of love and need he feels for you.

“Bathroom. Now.” he demands, throwing a wad of cash onto the bar and pulling you with him. A smile plastered on your lips as you follow close behind him, stumbling on your platforms.

The two of you stumble into the men’s bathroom, small giggles falling from your lips as Suna trips over his own foot before locking the door. You lift yourself up onto the counter, feeling the cold tile on your thighs and leaning against the mirror. Suna nudges your legs apart with his thigh, slipping in between them and running his hands up your short dress, peppering kisses along your neck.

“God, I love you.” he mumbles, pulling you closer to him and smashing his lips against yours. Your hands find their way to his hair, pulling at it slightly as he deepens the kiss and moans into your mouth. His grip on your ass tightens, before he makes his way between your legs. He lifts your dress and shoves your panties to the side, staring at the mess he’s caused.

“Always so wet for me, bunny.” he whispers into your core, placing a light kiss onto your clit. You whimper at the minimal contact and he grins, flattening his tongue and licking a stripe between your folds, savoring the taste he could never get enough of. “Fuck..” he moans, the cold metal of his ring clad fingers pumping into you slowly. The sinful moans of his name leave your mouth with no shame, the sound of him devouring you and your screams were sure to be heard from the hallway.

“Rin…” you moan out, your thighs tightening over his head as he continues to suck on your clit.

“You need me, baby?” he asks, looking up at you through his thick lashes. His honey eyes dripped with lust, as he moved his slick covered fingers to rub your clit. The small, tight circles cause your thighs to shake. “Answer me, pretty.”

“R-Rin… need you.” you stutter, feeling the familiar warmth in your stomach building up. You were so close, his fingers entering you once again and curling into your sweet spot. He grins at you, his face wet from your cunt, as he leans to press a kiss to your swollen lips. “Rin! I’m-”

“I know, baby. I got you.” he coos, going in and out of you faster. Just as you were about to reach your high, his fingers slip out of you. A mischievous grin plastered on his face, as he sucks on his fingers. You groan, covering your face and pressing your thighs together. “Ah… Ah…” He pushes your thighs apart with his body, unbuckling his belt and pulling himself out. “Thought you needed me?” He pouts, pumping himself slowly.

“I- Rin. Please, I was so close-” you whine, eyes pressed to his thick cock near your entrance.

“Spit on it.” you obey him, pursuing your lips to let the liquid fall onto his dick. He pumps himself, moaning and grabbing your face with his other hand. “Now tell me, pretty. What do you need?”

“Y-you.” you whisper, looking up at him with wide eyes as you unbutton his shirt. He places a sloppy kiss on your lips, breathing heavily when your cold hands replace his as you jerk him off. “Bend over for me.” His dark eyes watched you scramble off the counter, slipping your panties off and leaning over the sink. Your pretty face in the mirror looking back at him with pleading eyes as he rubs his cock against your cunt. He moans, pushing into you slowly, throwing his head back when he bottoms out. He stills, basking in the warmth of your plush walls.

“Fuck, Rin, move.” you huff, trying to relieve yourself.

“Am I not allowed to enjoy the moment?” he responds, gripping onto your hips tightly.

“Yeah, but- Fuck!” you moan at his sharp thrusts, a smile tugging at his lips as he pulls you back and forth on his dick. “Sorry, bunny. Couldn’t wait.” Your eyes roll into the back of your head, the steady pace of his thrusts driving you close to your peak once again. You reach your hand down to your clit, but Suna slaps your hand away. You look up at him in the mirror, his loving eyes boring into you, as he rubs at your clit in fast circles.

“Fuck, you’re taking me so well, baby.” he praises, his head falling back, letting his moans get louder the closer he gets. “Gonna cum in you, fill you up, and make you a pretty mama.”

“Fuck- Suna, don’t- WHAT THE FUCK?” you scream, feeling the fullness of his dick leave your dripping cunt.

“Who the fuck is Suna?” he giggles to himself, his dick grinding in between your folds at an agonizingly slow pace.

“Rin, c’mon- shit!” you bite your lip, your walls clenching around him as he kneads your ass.

“Good girl.” he coos, one hand on your hip and the other pulling your dress down to let your breast fall out. He moans, gripping at the soft flesh. “You gonna let me cum in you, baby?”

“Yes, fuck… don’t stop.” you hum, your brain starting to fog up as you near your release.

“S-shit, ‘M gonna.” he hisses, feeling your walls clench as you ride out your orgasm. Your fucked out expression and loud screams of his name was enough to have him spilling into you. He moans out your name, leaning over you and pressing a kiss to your shoulder, before pulling out and watching him spill out of you.

“You’re lucky I’m on the pill.” you pant, looking up at the mirror to him snapping a photo of the two of you. “Rin!”

“What? It’s a good memory!” he defends, taking several photos from different angles before lifting you up and setting you down on the counter. He shoves himself back into his pants, tucking his shirt and buckling belt before averting his attention to you. Your arms wrap around his neck as he kisses you softly, mumbling sweet words into your lips. He breaks away to dampen a towel, wiping you down as you scroll through the many pictures he took. A loud knock breaks the atmosphere, followed by annoyed screams.

“Have some fucking decency, some people need to use the bathroom!”

You both look at each other, laughing loudly before putting yourselves together. Suna adjusts his shirt, leaving the top buttons open and ruffling his hair. You slip into your underwear, smoothing out your dress and reapplying your lipstick. He gives your ass a light slap before opening the door and exiting, his eyes flicker between the couple outside. Suna’s lips twitch, realizing who the man leaning against the wall is. A smug expression spreads across his face, as he reaches his hand out for you.

“Sorry your sex life’s so boring.” he grins. You grasp his hand, walking out and nodding to the couple, recognizing the familiar set of eyes that you once adored.

“Sorry about that, bathroom's all yours.”

You squeeze Suna’s hand twice, a signal the two of you made up for when you’re feeling anxious. He quickly wraps his arm around your waist, pressing you into his side and placing a soft kiss onto your head. He hums quietly, leading the two of you out of the banquet hall and out to the garden. You stop at a bench, overlooking the city. The soft chirps of crickets and Suna’s intoxicating scent grounds you, a sense of relief washing over you.

“Fuck high school reunions, can’t believe you wanted to come here.” he jokes, pulling you onto his lap and holding you.

“Oh, shut up. You loved every minute of it.” you nuzzled into his chest.

“Particularly the bathroom part.” he hummed. “You okay?”

You sighed happily into his chest, nodding in response.

“So, tell me, what did the side bang do for you?”

“Shut the fuck up, Rintaro.” you hiss, getting up from his grasp, only for him to pull you back and attack your neck with kisses. Your laugh fills his ears, followed by your small fists punching his arm lightly in an attempt to get him to stop tickling you. A blush creeps onto his cheeks, the overwhelming feeling of love feels his body. He pauses his attack, your love laced insults about how irritating he could be was music to his ears. You’d never admit it to Suna, but you were glad he dragged you here. Seeing how his usual deadpan expression changed every time you were talked about made your heart swell. Maybe these things weren’t that bad, as long as he was by your side.

reblogs/likes appreciated <3

[comfortscripts]

Hi Hun!!

What would the the Marauders love languages be? I feel like they would all be so different

Honestly this question takes up more of my mind than I'd like to admit. And I added Regulus because everything is better with him.

James Potter

Love Language ¬ Acts of Service

It was rare that the Gryffindor Keeper slept in but with the up and coming final match, James was running on fumes until finally, they ran out. He always put everything into helping others and doing the best he could, even if that meant sacrificing his own health. But thankfully, he had you to make sure he feels better.

Shuffling around the Gryffindor table grabbing pastries and fruit to pile into the little container which was gradually overflowing. James needed his rest but he also needed food and knowing the busy boy, as soon as he woke up, he'd go running to Quidditch field.

Hearing the shushed sound of the door being gently closed, the sleeping wizard's eyes began to flutter open to recognise his surroundings. As his outstretched hand grasped his glasses, the clear sight in front of him made his heart swell.

There you sat, overflowing parcel of all his favourites clutched in your hands. With a shy smile and stunning eyes, the combination captured his soul. Feeling of love radiated off of you as you crawled up the bed towards the newly awoken boy with full intentions of keeping him in bed until every last pastry was gone.

James does so much for everyone but when you do something for him, he feels his heart explode with love.

Remus Lupin

Love Language ¬ Quality Time

As your head laid against his slowly rising chest, fingers trancing circles on his bare arm as it encased your body. Remus allowed your scent to fill his senses, calming the nerves in his body from the exhaustion they suffered last night.

Reciting the pages of William Wordsworth as the sore werewolf drank in your soft words, heartbeat falling in sync with the rhythm of the poetry. Tender words fell from your mouth, making Remus' mind wander as his heart grew in love.

All his life, he believed that no one would waste a second on a monster like him because why would they? Every month he became this blood thirsty predator who deserved worse than death and whilst the other days of the month he was just another teenager, he couldn't help but feel worthless. Until you came along.

Of course the Marauders helped him along with his little problem but you. You were the cure, gentle caresses as you bandaged up wounds, soft words to coax him back from his primal state and this. The time you spent so willingly with him after every full moon, every time he needed you. Never once complaining or leaving him stranded, you were always there to offer your time and in return, he offered you his entire being.

Sirius Black

Love Language ¬ Physical Touch

Harsh words and painful sentiments etched into the paper by the one person who was meant to love him unconditionally, his mother. Threats and insults absorbed into his being as his eyes welled up from the words, feeling the hatred seep into his skin.

The letter was ripped from his hands, only to be discarded in the blazing flames of the comforting fireplace. Within a matter of seconds, your arms wrapped around his body, completely engulfing his broken figure in your sturdy grip. Sobs racked from his body as he let himself be held by his lover, burying his head into your welcoming neck.

Minutes drifted into hours and still, there the two of you stayed. Your body and his tangled in a scene of comfort, fingertips tracing delicate patterns on his exposed skin as your other hand kindly stroked his luscious hair. The sobs became extinct as gentle hums of love and appreciation fell from his lips instead.

All those nights of meaningless hook-ups before you came along, all to try and fill that craving of touch. A craving you could satisfy with the simplest caress of his hand. Hands resting on his jaw, filling his desire for the touch he was neglected in his childhood.

Feeling your hand begin to stop and drift away from his body, a low mumble of disapproval escaped his lips. Shuffling deeper into your embrace, fighting any attempt to be untangled from you.

Lowering your hand back to its original placement, "I will hold you forever if you want me to"

Heart speeding up at your words, he placed a heartful kiss against your neck before muttering whispers of 'I love you'. He didn't need his mother's approval, all he needed was your loving touch.

Regulus Black

Love Language ¬ Words of Affirmation

Regulus hated nightmares. Regulus hated his family for putting him through the stuff nightmares are made of. Regulus hated how weak that fear made him.

But you loved Regulus and that mattered most.

Tossing and turning, tangling in the cotton sheets as he battled with the sleeping demons in his mind. You shook his body, forcing your words into his mind with hope of waking him up and getting him out. The darkness slowly faded as he awoke, tears beginning to well in his eyes at what he had just experienced. Adrenaline coming to a halt as his body convulses in hope of catching his breath.

"It was just a dream my love, nothing can hurt you here"

Running your fingers through his mop of curls in an attempt to soothe the panicked boy. As he blinked away the tears, his arms circled your figure to pull you close, almost using you as a tether to reality.

"They were all there. Telling me how to act, how to be better." Biting his lip in hope of reducing the quakes in his words, "I'm not good enough"

"Regulus Arcturus Black. Never say that!"

Pulling away from his lanky body, you laid your hands against his jaw, forcing your eyes to lock with his insecure ones.

"You, Reggie, are the best person I know. Everything you've been through but here you are having overcome it all. You are the most caring wizard I know and you hold more love in your little finger than anyone I know."

Placing a chaste kiss on his quivering lip before continuing.

"You are incredibly handsome"

Kiss

"You are probably the most powerful wizard I know"

Kiss

"The way you protect those you love is incomprehensible"

He brought you into his arms with such force, you felt the gasp pull from your throat as you collided with his firm chest. Hearing his pounding heart, knowing that instead of fear, it pumps with love.

As the two of you laid down on the tender bed, your whispers of compliments and affirmation lulled the Black boy into a peaceful sleep.

He would fight a million nightmares and challenge any demon to hear those words you speak for only a second more.

[yanderenightmare]

bitchy bratty catty pretty-girl who gives fuck-all, the school tries to straighten her ways by introducing her to a temporary captured shiggy, who is soooo fucking pissed off at this smug pretty bitch, going to track her down and make her pay!!!! >-< plez Mizz Nightmare

yandere kidnapper ! SHIGARAKI TOMURA

TIP-JAR

goodiebag WARNINGS: yandere, dubcon/noncon, abuse, profanity, bullying, anxiety, drugging, kidnapping, abduction

CUTTHROAT

“Wow! Right for the kill?! You’re real cutthroat.”

She wasn’t really surprised to hear that they’d caught him, and unlike many others she wasn’t surprised to hear that they’d be holding him on campus. She had full confidence in both the faculty, the promising Hero-course students, and UA’s security system, knowing damn well it could serve well as a prison not just for the students who went there, such as herself, but for the leader of the League of Villains as well.

To say she felt safe as she walked with Aizawa to meet him would be an understatement. She knew why the teacher had been tasked with taking her there, the intention being to scare her, give her a picture of what scum she would become if she continued down the path of fuck-all she was currently on. But, even though she wanted to rebel against taking any orders, she was feeling something far more superior than the will to fight back, something that trumped safety and laid waste to fear, she was feeling thrill. 

This would be a means to an end, a cure for boredom as well as a way to show once and for all that she was a hopeless cause, maybe then these obsessive heroes would leave her the fuck alone already.

“Wow, you’re really ugly! I mean, they warned me you were, but I could never’ve imagined it’d be this bad!”

She was jeering laughs at the lanky figure who towered over her, his hand wrapped tightly around her throat and his eyes spiraling in disbelief in process of understanding why what was found beneath his fingertips wasn’t turning to ash.

“Aren’t bad guys supposed to be sexy?” Her idiotic rambling only succeeded in confusing him more as she shrugged his seemingly useless normal hand away, walking to sit down on the floor, knowing it would be a while until Aizawa let her out again. “You know, to seduce and lure people into their ranks?” She looked over the meal tray he’d flipped out of her hand before seizing her throat, nothing sharp, no cutlery, no broken glass, just one measly apple. “I’m guessing you’re not in charge of recruiting. I mean… who would ever want to follow your ugly mug?”

She watched in anticipation of what remark he’d hurl her way. She’d heard he was bratty, she’d heard he was the one who could set her straight, divert her from this collision-course she’d set herself out on. Yet, his response was more than disappointing, not at all the tornado of a tantrum she had been preparing for. “You talk too much.” He didn’t even sound at all any provoked by her words, dismissing her as he slowly made to pick up the apple from the ground, checking to see if it was his quirk that was gone or if there was something else afoot, finding his answer in the ashes of the fruit.

“Come on.” She drawled, crossing her legs beneath her, keen eyes looking at him as he too sat back down to lean against the wall, looking only a fair bit of annoyed with her presence, as though she were a stain on his shirt, an inconvenience of some sorts. “You were gonna kill me!” She laughed, his red scrutinizing orbs looking to her with a sneer. “Without a thought, in cold blood, no remorse, even after I gave you food like the mutt you are, the least I can do is spit in your face!” 

He didn’t answer. Eyes still set on her where she sat planted without a single care, annoyed with how comfortable she looked, as though she were in her element, as though she was winning some sort of game, a game that wasn’t even about him as her eyes flittered to the black-glass of the window every now and again.

She clicked her tongue, beginning a new ramble. “Tell me, Shiggy.” She smiled, eyes wicked and gleaming and untamed. “That quirk of yours…”

She might have phrased it all like a question, but Shigaraki could hear it plain and simple, how her one goal was to mock him, poke at him until he burst, and not even for the sake of watching him burst, but for the sake of proving to whomever was on the other side of that glass that they couldn’t tame her. He didn’t need to know her entire story to see that much, how he was being used as a pawn to convert some meaningless pretty-girl.

“Can you control it? Or does everything you touch turn to ash no matter your desire?” It wouldn’t have been out of place if she’d licked her lips with how dripping with venom her words were. “It’s like the Midas touch, isn’t it?”

Her poetic phrasing of his deadly quirk had his eyes narrowing, but he hadn’t much time to think her wording over before she began a new escapade.

“Have you ever fucked anyone, Shiggy?” She didn’t even look at him as she asked, alerting him of what he already knew, how she had no interest in his answer, only his reaction, and the reaction his reaction would beckon from the people in the other room. 

She was trying to rile him up, prove how vicious she could be, prove how she hadn’t a single fuck to give. 

“I bet you’ve never truly touched anyone. How could you? I mean, first…” She laid down on her back with a careless roll, looking to the ceiling, ignoring him if it weren’t for the fact she was talking to him, or about him, or at him. “Who would ever want to fuck you? All those wrinkles and all those scars. You look like the onset of death.” She giggled, and he watched her tits bounce as though they were laughing at him too. “I cannot imagine anyone willingly wanting whatever you have to offer. And even if you force it on them, you’d be bound to fuck up with how much they’d struggle.” You’d think she carried a vendetta toward him, with how personal her attacks were, yet it was all given away with how little she was paying attention to him, as though she’d judged already whatever it was she found interesting and was now done with him. All she remained focused on was creating a show, to see how far she could take it before anyone came in to stop her, how much she could poke until something snapped, how much she could bend until something broke. “Just one slip of the hand and you’re left with your dick only halfway wet in a pile of dust.”

He didn’t know if she knew how correct her imagery was, he guessed she didn’t, he wanted to believe she’d show a bit more restraint then, a bit more unease, more respect. She acted as though she wasn’t trapped in a box with a notorious villain, seemingly unaware of her own stature as well as his. She was nothing but a school-girl and yet she felt comfortable enough in her safety to be lying on her back, flinging insult at the person she was locked in with.

“I don’t see how it could bother you for too long though.” Again, she had him intrigued. “I mean… pretty stupid bitches who’re only worth one fuck anyway can’t really be counted as a loss, can it?”

It was clear she didn’t view herself as one of said pretty stupid bitches, even though a pretty stupid bitch is exactly what she looked like in Shigaraki’s eyes. Perhaps that was her point exactly.

“Have you ever dusted someone who did count as a loss?” She rolled over, head propped up on her elbows, laying in her palms, her feet kicking the air behind her. “You ever fuck up so bad? Committed an irredeemable act? Something so unforgivable even you can’t forgive yourself?” Her eyes were set on him again now. “Do you think about it every day?” Her tone shifted then, to something sadistically sweet. “Does it hurt just as much now as it did then?” Her face split into a grin, eyes ablaze as she observed, searched for a breach in his composure. “What happened to mommy and daddy, Shiggy.” She singsonged, toying with him. “Were they your first victims? Did you cry? Do you still cry? Or did they deserve it?”

Her look was earnest, salacious until she rolled her eyes in boredom at his lack of response.

Sighing, she calmed back down, briefly. “I get it… You don’t want to play with me ‘cause you don’t think I’m a worthy player.” She scoffed as she looked to the side with a melodramatic drag. “You should check yourself. We keep you in a cage, give you food, have you on a leash and collar. You’re nothing but our pet!”

She giggled again, biting her tongue, gnawing on it between the rows of her teeth with her mouth open in a wide smile.

“You know… My quirk is called immunity, but it should really be called repellent.” She looked at her hands then, now kneeling in front of him. Her gaze split like lightning, snapping to look at him again, a catlike smirk pulling at the corner of her mouth. “You and I aren’t that different, are we?” It looked for a second as though she were about to stand up, but the movement fell short as she instead gave way to crawl closer to him, one elegant arm followed by the other, all with the grace of a huntress, a panther easing in for the kill. “In fact… I think I’d go as far and say we’re the exact same…” His eyes didn’t deceive him, this time she did lick her lips, only now her words weren’t dripping with venom, but with some other sickly-sweet nectar. “’Cause…where I never let anyone come close, you let ‘em come close… only for them to die!”

“That’s enough.” He must have closed his eyes the second he felt her breath fan over his face, because he’d missed the time the erasure hero had walked in. “This was a waste of time.” The dark-haired man groaned, disappointed.

“Aw, really?”

She wasn’t in front of him anymore, to his surprising disappointment, though her sweet smell still lingered about him pleasantly.

“And I was just getting to the fun part…” She walked to the threshold of the cell-door, not once indicating she’d turn around and take one final look at him. “Well, anyway… tootles, pet.”

Even as she insulted him, she did it twice over by not returning his gaze.

-

She was still sleeping, she noted as her mind, though still groggy and drowsed out, became lucid enough to start thinking. She was sleeping, yet the sleep felt unsafe, as though her alarm was bound to go off any second, firmly shaking her awake and telling her time was running out for her to get to school. And if she’d slept through the alarm, a teacher was soon to come fetch her. Yet, for now she remained halfway asleep, waiting for an alarm or a knock on the door unknowing of how it would never arrive.

He wasn’t sure if it was the drug that had perhaps made some of her senses dull under the impression, for… surely she should feel that her mouth was stuffed full and made to suck on a rag, surely she should feel that her wrists were tied together behind her back, and how her thighs and legs were secured together in a frog tie, the rough rope, scratchy in texture, and how it scraped against her soft doughy skin. Perhaps he didn’t tie them tight enough. It was hard to get a good grip without accidentally dusting the ropes, but he knew the struggle was worth it, seeing her now, in all her defenseless vulnerable rightful glory.

“Not so tough now…” He taunted at her small sleeping frame. Even with her clothes still on, he knew her naked body was only a mere touch away from him. How he could spread her open without her being able to kick, only wiggle for him, like a worm on a hook. No… that imagery is too ugly to be describing her, when she’s so far from ugly. She’s more like a butterfly trapped on a pin, wings fluttering hopelessly, reduced to nothing but beauty, nothing but a little doll for him to play with, tamper and poke fun at just like how she’d done back when he was captured at UA.

He decided pro putting the blindfold on her, perhaps the product of her bullying him in the cell, her jabs at his appearance subconsciously having gotten to him despite himself wanting to dust them off like he did with everything else. Her comments were sharp, and seemed to have the same type of immunity her body had, where his ego, much like himself, hadn’t the thickest of skin. Besides, she was… so painfully out of his league.

It hardly mattered though, now that he would regain all the control.

She laid on her stomach, face mushed against the mattress. He’d removed the pillows and comforter so she’d be placed like a centerpiece on his little operating table. She looked so harmless now, so sweet, especially tied up the way she was, and with those whimpering moans that were simmering to the surface, breaching her sleep, escorted by her wiggling, her delicious tempting little wiggling, begging for Shigaraki to come introduce himself, now with the turned tables.

“Did you really think I was just gonna let it slide?” Her wiggles came to an abrupt holt, breath caught in her throat, making her choke out a curt gasp through the thickness of her makeshift gag. “Did you think you were safe? Like you were simply spitting on a grave. No ghosts coming to haunt you.” She panicked once she felt the bed dip, four fingers sharp in their venture, sweeping up her back, settling around her neck, drawing out painful sudden studded goosebumps, spreading across her skin like wildfire in a field. “Silly little slut.” She squealed at the feel of his warm breath on her cheek, unable to move away, her head halfway buried in the soft mattress, teeth sinking into the cloth in her mouth when his tongue, wet with drool, large and flat, dragged up her already teary cheek. “Boo.”

Her ears were burning, so much blood gushing and rushing and pooling in her head like a storm, she barely registered him drawing back with that maniacal giggle, where with as trademark as it were, there was no doubt where she was or who she was with. Yet, she hadn’t the time to think about it, she hadn’t the time to regret or answer questions she hadn’t even the time to ask, because as her mind was cooking up chaotic whirlwinds of fear, crippling fear despite being crippled enough already, brutal fear that her gut feeling like acid festering and mind reeling in on itself in such vehemence she felt she might just faint, give out like a light in a blizzard, she was given no time before he was talking again, pushing her even further out on the edge she found herself, stepping on her fingers one by one, with no mercy as she dangled above jagged rock that were sure to spear her like an arrow through a dove.

“You were wrong, you know.” She felt his hands trace a careful set of four fingers down the fabric of her shirt, rubbing into her spine, further pushing the breath from out of her lungs. “I’ve fucked before.” He spoke casually, though peppered in between the notes of nonchalance was found the spiked flavors of spiteful mockery, like the mean girl on campus, like how she usually talks, like how she had spoken to him. “But, what I haven’t done is played with someone’s body the way I’m gonna play with yours.” He listened to her whimper, sobs surely to soon wrack through her body, uncontrollably and thoroughly, making her gasp and choke on nothing but air and fear. “I mean, it’s only fair.” She heard the shrug in his voice, that sarcastic sigh and lightheartedness. “You fuck with me, I fuck with you.” This time he growled and she swore she would piss herself with how scared she was.

He was going to kill her, she knew it, she could feel it crawling up and down her body as though mites were hidden in her clothes. She already sensed him peeling off her skin, flaying her with her screaming. And in those seconds, those hopeless seconds, she wished for death, for it to be quick, painless, like simply snuffing out a light. She nearly prayed, squeezing her eyes shut to pray to that God or Devil she never believed in, never needed as badly as she needed them now. She wished for her heart to give out, for the right vein to pop, for a lung to collapse, anything, just for her to be dead before he had the mind to torture her to death.

“Does that sound fun, pet.” And there she broke, waterworks in full effect, no longer simple silent tears but something that had built under pressure like boiling pot of water, bubbling, soon to be blubbering incoherent sobs out into her gag, all to his vengeful amusement.

He watched her for a moment, one longer than he’d probably intended, despite not having view of her eyes, watching the blindfold wet as her eyes leaked at the complete overwhelming loss of hope, lips sucking on the gag those tears that managed to escape and run down to salt her lips.

“So pretty, aren’t you?” He accused, giving her barefoot a squeeze, making her wiggle with what mobility the bonds allowed her, looking handicapped, as though he’d disintegrated both her arms and legs when he’d simply tied them up where they would be stored safely and out of the way until he deemed it okay for her to use them again, where until then… she’d remain his little immobile toy. “Pretty little girl, all tied up.” He giggled, both amused and pleased, leaning down to tug those locks of hair that had curtained her face behind her ear, making the thin wisps at the back of her neck bristle in alarm. “All alone with the big bad ugly villain.” He bit it out with a smirk, and she swore she felt venom drop where he spit the words on her face. “Pretty girl… dressed in such pretty things.” He mused, tugging on the fabric of her silk pajama shirt, his other hand stroking a thumb over himself and his caged member, the beast behind the boxer, the one she was still so completely unaware of. “To hide her rotten core.”

He snickered some more at the notice of how ticklish she was, or perhaps it wasn’t as much a reflex but rather a violent display of her fear, how she kicked, or tried to kick her legs, once his hand with its lanky slender fingers danced a pattern on the sole of her foot.

“They won’t be of much help to you now…”

It’s was a cute display, seeing her struggle in an attempt to swat away his spidering hand, endearing, had him drooling he realized, but didn’t bother to wipe his chin, instead giving into the urge he had to touch what was so temptingly sprawled out before him.

“I bet you think of these as your armor, don’t you?”

All five of his fingers touched down on her shirt, and soon there was no shirt left to separate his dry course fingers from her warm skin. He nearly let out a gasp as he watched how she stayed in place, having not become a pyramid of ash. Her beautiful body still right there, warm glowing skin still touchable, more touchable than anything else.

“Keeping you safe from prying eyes and hands… Not my hands though.”

He could excuse how he hesitated on the fact of him wanting to enjoy himself, wretchedly and thoroughly, gorging in every moment he was gonna make her scream, but… he knew that wasn’t the reason… he was… and he hated to admit it, but… nervous. He had this gorgeous creature trapped and under his thumb and he was nervous? No matter how terrified she was and immobilized it was like she still had the power, just like she had in that prison cell.

Perhaps it was due to the fact that he’d thought about her everyday he was trapped in there. She had said she would see him later yet she never once, not once, came a second time. Why would she lie? Just to fuck with him some more? One last and lasting punch in the face? He had dreamed of it. How many times had he fantasized about doing every possible nasty thing in the book to her, teach her a lesson, make her beg, make her kneel, make her bow before him? But now, having her right there, this frail little girl who wouldn’t have the strength to fight him even without the tight rope holding her down, this little girl who despite being just that had him enthralled for months, still just as hellbent, enslaved, spellbound to make her pay… but that wasn’t it either… making her pay was only half of it, maybe even less… what he wanted, what he truly wanted, was to prove to her that he could have her wrapped around his finger despite being what ugly freak she’d made him out to be, that despite being ugly, he could have a pretty-girl like her melting.

He gave fully into his wishes then, her shorts gone with a touch, leaving her in a precious pair of cotton boxers. A sigh of reverence left him, a shudder running through him. He was expecting red lace or something exotic, something vain and narcissistic meant to enhance or simply show off just how pretty she was. He figured that was what she’d dress in, something sexy, because she had the full body that one believes go hand in hand with hot lingerie, yet… she’d chosen comfort. And why wouldn’t she? When she could make it look like the hottest item his eyes ever had the privilege of seeing.

“Fuck…” He drawled, now with a wanton whine, his hand giving himself a squeeze as his cock was beginning to strain uncomfortably inside the confines of his boxers. “Just look at you…”

He only barely dared touch her, not just out of fear of her disappearing like anything else would, but because he didn’t at all feel as though he had the right to put his hands on something so beautiful.

“You shouldn’t be allowed to wear clothes.” He stated, still in awe. “Not when they cover up this perfect body.”

She screamed into her gag as he grabbed around her waist, pulling her pliable little body up into a kneeling position, then pulling and arranging some further to have her in the same position, just over his slap this time, with his bulging cock rubbing through the fabric of his briefs up into her still clothed sex, though with both cloths a thin material she felt the abrasive ticklish friction begin to stir something in her lower abdomen despite her fear and no regard to her disgust. And now, provided with the full view of her delectable little frame, her precious tits sprung free and strutting towards him with how her arms were bent in their confinement behind her back, and perky by both the cold wind of his breath and the goosebump-giving anxiety, leveled with his face, looking eager to receive his mouth, perfect nipples for him to suck on, gnaw between the rows of his teeth.

“These perfect tits…” He licked his lips, hands kneading one mound greedily as the other held her steady. “And this…” He placed all five fingers on the fabric of her panties, turning them to ash, all five staying to touch the delicate skin of her sex, feeling her quake, such a good replacement to feeling someone disintegrate. He groaned out a curse, body sagging, slouching at the sight of her exposed bare little private, he hunched over in awe as he ran his fingers through to disappear in the slit of her precious pussy. “This perfect little pussy.”

She wiggled on his digits with a squealing whimpering sob, so alive and warm and soft he could cry with how safe he was beginning to feel, without the fear of touching just a bit too much getting in the way. Although he was feeling the slight sensation of inferiority in the light of her perfection, or maybe even because of it, he decided he’d give a little scare, perhaps as a means of tipping or evening the scales.

“You know, pretty girl…” His other hand, the one not currently preoccupied with cupping her pussy, brutally brazen for the first time, spread its fingers to stroke the dome of her ass, before curling like claws to grab a fist-full of the ample flesh, making her jump and lose balance, resulting in falling flush against his chest all with a muffled cry. Her face mushed against his collar, her wet reddened nose painting tears onto his throat, such a strange type of comfort against his scars. “I’ve never slapped anyone?” He could feel her heartbeat and how it hammered like a race-horse on the track. “Or, no, I’ve slapped plenty, but a slap from me means death, usually.” His hand ascended, wrapping around her throat, all five fingers with hungry-pressured fingertips, guiding her back off his chest to sit properly, though leaning to bite her earlobe, all to feel her rub down on his aching cock some more. “But I slap you and it means pretty marks and pretty screams, doesn’t it?”

He laughed, knowing full well that he wasn’t going to hurt her, or at least not as badly as he had given reason to think.

“Such a fucking pretty girl, aren’t you?” He trailed a path of wet open-mouthed kisses down her neck and between her breasts, gripping her waist as she recoiled back. “With pretty tits.” Breath labored, or hefty with greed and desire. “Pretty girl with a pretty pussy.” He squeezed her sides, as though getting ready to make a ragdoll of her again, pulling her into the desired position. “Let me taste you.”

Her heart hammered like a hammer hitting an anvil, as she was placed on her back, hands crushed beneath her, uncomfortably wrenching in their bonds. Her mind, stuck in its prospect, hadn’t pieced it together, despite having been stripped naked, she still hadn’t given it a thought, hadn’t dared give it a thought, but his comment made the realization coat thickly, drape her and the pressure seemed too much for her mind to take, plummeting into a free-fall. He wasn’t just going to kill her, he was going to rape her first.

Thighs easily pried open for him to settle in between, scooting back on the bed so he could lie down, lower half humping the mattress desperately, imagining having her wrapped around him, but all in good time. She shook more than writhed, seizurely beneath him, with her blushed pussy a beautiful slit so ripe for the taking, quivering at the warming breath he whispered upon the tender flesh. With his hands wrapped around each their ankle he pushed her thighs and legs up and out of the way as to not have her knee him in the head while he feasted.

He listened to her struggling to breathe, her stomach rising and falling sporadically with her sobs, untuned and painful and begging for any kindness he had to spare, he was going to give her exactly that. Kindness.

His chapped lips felt so good it was cruel, abrasive and inescapably delicious, welcomed yet unwelcome by the bucking of her hips as she squealed into her gag, falling prey to more and more hopelessness. His tongue came second, warm and wet and long and strong, sliding in between her folds only to swipe up and flick off at her clit, forcing a shudder to run all the way through her core into the tips of her toes, mind reeling.

“So cute.” He noted the sensitivity with a mocking jeer, the sound simmering on her skin. “I bet a pretty girl like you’ve never been fucked by a guy like me before.” Then his teeth were the ones to make an impact, grazing over her budding clit with how it reached out in search for stimulation, having its wish granted in such a sense forcing her toes to curl. “Come on my ugly face, pretty-girl.” She really couldn’t resist with how his words were tickling on that sensitive spot, and how intent on finding and following that spot that had her coming on done and abusing it, playing with it with his tongue and chapped lips, switching between such smooth soft yet forceful pressure and bristled rough chaffed contact, making her spasm, wanting so desperately to tug her arms loose to push his incessant face off, because she wouldn’t be able to resist it, she was going to come and make an humiliating mess on his tongue just like he wanted, the knot was going to snap and she would be screaming from the force of it.

He smirked with the taste of her essence on his tongue, giving her a couple more torturous kitty-licks that had her brutally recoiling by the oversensitivity he was abusing. It served well as an ego-boost as he was suddenly feeling the urge to take her blindfold off, make her gaze upon who had her wrapped around his finger. What more, he wanted to remove her gag, hear what she had to say to defend herself, what pathetic please she would come with to try and prevent him from going any further.

His mouth sloshed its way up her stomach, hands touching and grabbing and groping with greedy fingers onto anything and everything they got ahold of, feeling up her smooth skin and soft flesh, before having made their way to grab at the blindfold. Her eyes were petrified, blinking rapidly, especially every time his clothed cock bumped into her bare pussy, leaving strings of spit and fine silken cum to hang from between where she parted with the cotton of his pants.

She was thoroughly out of it, delirious, fear-ridden and numbed with pleasure, cotton yet swivel-eyed as he fought to be her focus. He pulled the gag out of her mouth too, wiping his chin before turning the fabric to ash, eyes looking her over all the while.

His tongue rolled over his lips. “Such a pretty face.” He gathered her face between his fingers, blunt fingertips pushing into squishy bloated cheeks. “Even prettier with those tears you fucking crybaby.” It will never get old, the feeling of nothing happening still under all his five fingers. “Even better with my handprint, don’t you think?” It was funny how she didn’t seem to pick up anything of what he was saying. “Or covered in my cum.” Her brows had scrunched so hopelessly close together, whimpers upon sniffles and whiny mewling and hiccupping panting, so pathetic and precious. “So fucking pretty.” He groaned, giving his lips a second wetting with his tongue. “Kiss me, pretty-girl.” He scrunched her lips together some more, leaving her incapable of refusing.

She tasted herself on his tongue, choking on the sweetness as he forced it like a slug down her throat. Her own tongue submissive in nature, staying beneath and out of the way of his. It was a series varying from needy whimpering moans and growls that followed from his throat, poured into her receiving mouth, giving nothing but weak whines in return. His one free hand, the other one still holding a firm grip onto her chin and cheeks, continued in its hungry exploration, grabbing with an almost childlike curious freedom, leaving painful marks in their wake, having her yelp against his willful lips, which smirk grew upon every inch of reaction she fed him, until pulling away in a haze, panting, with a new little wish he was going to have her be the star of.

“Let me fuck that pretty face.”

She hadn’t the time, nor the mind, to form any protest, reduced to mere whimpering as he pulled her back into a kneeling position, conjoined thighs and legs folded beneath and supporting her ass, still with her arms tied snuggly and unbudgingly behind her back, made to watch him fiddle with the band to his sweats, pulling them below his hips and falling to his thighs, displaying his surprisingly clean boxers and not so surprising hardness. Cock throbbing within its confines, fighting desperately to come free. His hand pulling his boxers down and, cock springing loose, slapping against his abdomen, standing long and hard, tip blushed red and angry, a bead of pre-cum spilling sweetly from his slit.

“Open up, lick it up.”

She’d been lost in taking in the sheer size of him, girth thick and threatening, looking bigger than what she could wrap her hand around, her stomach twisting in tension and unease. Too caught up in imagine it ripping her apart than realizing how he was going to fit it into her mouth first.

Her eyes widened upon the thought, lips slightly apart in horror, bottom-lip quivering. “Come on, pretty-girl.” One hand tugged on his shaft, the other gripped her face, protruding nails to sink into her jaw, prying her mouth father apart to accommodate his size.

She whined at the taste of him, arms struggling behind her back, knees shuffling wider apart to support herself as he pushed on further, fingernails still digging into her soft cheeks, making her lips pucker into a soft welcoming oval. He liked the way her brows furrowed into that beautiful look of plead that had his balls aching where they hung, soon to be pressed up against her soft skin, smothering her chin. He also enjoyed how her whimpers had turned to delicious little vibrations of his cock, drumming alongside his length, such pretty friction.

“Come on, take all of me.” He licked his lips as he urged, other hand coming to caress the back of her skull, gathering her pretty locks between his fingers, abandoning all regard to how she should be turning to nothing but dust molecules instead of being a nice warm soft wet pleasure hole for him. His usually small scrutinizing scarlet eyes turning moon-wide with lustful frenzy. Voice ragged as he clawed at her scalp to obey him, no thought to her whining in protest. “You can do better.” His tip met with the back of her throat and her whine turned more desperate, nearly a scream, but he couldn’t care, not with the memory of her talking to him like he was some pussy-bitch, he was going to show her who the bitch and who the boss was. “Such a pretty little thing with such a nasty filthy ugly fucking mouth.” He spit through grit teeth, begging to fuck the back of her throat, having her gagging on him, hopeless in search for breath. “A mouth like that is only good for one thing.” He gave a few more painfully deep ruts, having her eyes roll back at the loss of breath, before ripping loose again. “Same goes for that pussy.”

“No, no.” She scrambled on the bed, trying to get away, trying to rip free, so hopeless he should have felt bad, but couldn’t bring himself to the feeling as he sat there and laughed, eyes wild, dick prospering, hand pumping his length to the sight of her.

He followed her pathetic struggling little shame, climbing on top of her. The panic swallowed her again, forcing a overwhelmed rush of sobs to come spluttering and blubbering and screaming from her little shape caught beneath him. “Such a little slut.” His fingers were at once groping her pussy, diving between her folds to rub her slit and clit. “Still so wet, are you excited?” She turned her head away as she struggled, eyes squeezed shut. “Aw, pretending it’s not me.” He snickered. “Good luck.”

Offended, he decided against making it pleasant for her, thinking she deserved as little sympathy from him as she had showed him, but his brutal actions slowed at the feel of the pressure around his finger when he’d pushed it inside her.

“So tight.” He stated, shocked as he tried swirling the digit inside, to feel the walls giving little wiggle-room to do so. She winced as he hooked, a heavy breathy shrill type of wince, as though he was pulling a knife from her gut.

He left the finger there, much to her discomfort.

“That comment…” He started, working her tightness as much as he could, still with only one finger. “When we first met.” His other hand gathered her face again, forcing her to look at him as he leaned down, resting his forehead on hers, wanting to see those eyes as he got confirmation on his suspicion. “You said you push people away… that you were a… repellant.” Her breathing hitched as she sniveled like a little girl who scraped her knee. “Did that count for this as well?”

He hadn’t yet let the smile stretch on his face, but the chiding smirk started to grow as the answer was clearly displayed all over her face and by the telltale feeling his finger shoved inside her way too tight hole told him.

“Aww, is the pretty little girl a virgin?” He gave her no inch of regret, even with the fact clear as day. Having worked her tightness well enough to cram another bony-knuckled finger inside her, making her cry out. “Don’t worry, that pretty pussy is in good hands.”

She owed him, this way they would be even. Besides, he wasn’t making it completely miserable for her either. Her face might be telling one story of torment, but her drooling pussy was telling him something utterly different. Perhaps it was due to her amateur ability to hold on, but she was soon creaming all over his fingers, body spasming in tired bliss, eyes fluttering for a moment or two, trying to grasp what the fuck was happening. It was adorable.

“I think my little slut is ready.”

She murmured a sigh, energy spent on crying and struggling and coming twice already, all she could do was moan when his cockhead broke through her tight little weeping hole. He had to moan as well at the snug hug her pussy squeezed and seized him with, biting roughly into his bottom lip, tooth snaggling in the dip of his scar. Brows raised in bliss, scrunched in an eruption, as he sunk deeper and deeper into her tight convulsing cunt, preciously clutching around him, fluttering upon the fulfilling snug fit that had her toes cramping in their curled state, eyes zoning out, unable to focus, mouth blubbering and chewing on incoherent sentences, only capable on slurring out muddled moans and wet gasps as he fucked slowly into, lolling his hips forward carefully, holding onto the mouthwatering feeling of her warmth around him.

He pushed his thumb into her clit, which had her back arching and moan ripped from her throat before she settled down into the mattress again, welcoming the stimulation where she was crippled to preventit. “Your pretty pussy loves being taken by my disgusting cock, doesn’t it?” She could only hum and croon in reply, as he hit the very back, pushing into her cervix with a rather soft nudge, having her result to sucking on her bottom-lip, purring whines like a little kitten taking pleasure from their master. “I hear it in your pretty moans.”

He was no longer biting out the word pretty as though it were a curse or venom on his tongue. It sounded more like praise than anything, something akin to awe, pride even, smug for having it all under his thumb, burying his cock inside the word, for being the one to have reduced such a pretty thing to such a pretty mess, all for him, all by him, making her all his.

She made a shuddering gasp, moaning into his mouth as he leaned down. “Oh, is the pretty girl gonna cum all over my disgusting cock.” He cooed, all five fingers placed on her cheek when cupping it to have those gorgeous opium-blown eyes look at him when she came undone, for him to find such dangerous satisfaction in seeing her conquered beneath him, finding it to be the last push to send him off his own edge as well. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum in that pretty pussy.”

He made to have that final bone-crushing kiss, faces mushed together in a sloppy mess of wet slippery tongues and drool, moaning and groaning, inhaling each-other.

Reduced to mere gasping and panting. Cock, having for the first time felt the fulfilling pleasure of blowing inside the warm comfort of a precious goddess, feeling her gush and come all over him in the near split-second, feeling her clench and tighten around him like a vice, robbing and ringing and milking him for every drop he was worth. He gave some more pumps, pushing deep within her, felt a shudder run down the underside of his cock, overstimulated and satisfied for the first time.

Still coming down from his high, he made to take in her shape and state.

He hadn’t really fantasized she’d be so pliant after being fucked, but looking at her now, he couldn’t imagine her any other way, anything more right then her glossy sweat-slicked body spasming in aftershocks of her orgasms, laid so preciously snug against his chest, thighs visibly shaking with still small feeble stuttering moans slipping from her lips in blubbers. He wasn’t too far from the same state himself, having had only barely the mind before exhaustion rendered his limbs too heavy for moving, to untie the knots and rearrange them into something more comfortable. He decided tying her wrists together in front of her to be better, legs free but too tired and dumbed-out to struggle.

He looked at her drowsy state with a smile, betting he could make such a grateful little pet out of her, and if not, then scramble her mind through so many cruel methods, and make do with a brainless toy instead. But, looking down at that blissed-out hopeless look on her face and that dainty defenseless body he’d manipulated and forced to its knees, he couldn’t really see how any cruel methods would be needed.

It seemed to him that all she needed was cock, a couple of orgasms forced from her pent-up body, a little relief. The little brat was just a bit grouchy and grumpy because she hadn’t had her pussy played with. He could relate, he also gets frustrated when not getting his dick wet for a while. She was just begging for someone to come handle her and that’s all there was to it. Just look at her now, so sweet and spent, lying in his arms.

Come to think of it, he knew for a fact that he wouldn’t be needing to apply any harsh treatments in taming her, she just needed to be tied up and made to feel just how good being taken care of feels until she accepted it willingly. And if and when she decides on being bratty, he’ll have plenty of methods of shutting that trap right up, or in making her scream.

TIP-JAR

[yandere-wishes]

MONSTERS

👹 Yandere Ryomen Sukuna x Reader

👹Summary: Monsters aren’t born they're made, but Sukuna stumbles across the rare exception...

👹Warning: dehumanization, mention of gore, blood, slight dub-con mentioned in passing, death, past trauma, and abuse

👹 Edited: By the lovely @tealyjade-libran !

👹 Wordcount: 2,480

👹Alternative Tittle : If Roxanne ( from the Police song) lived in ancient Japan.

👹First Jujutsu kaisen fic! I hope you guys like it, please let me know your thoughts! Likes and reblogs appreciated!

Monsters were made. 

Slowly created as once blazing ideals, withered and died under harsh strokes of reality. Stitched together with broken promises and the ashes of rotting memories. 

Monsters were made

whisked into a role they once dreaded, once feared. Beaten into the role of the villain, the reprobate, the sinner. 

If anyone ever asked Sukuna when was the exact moment he turned his back on the laws of "good" and "evil", shedding his human skin to regrow a pelt of hate and destruction,

He would simply answer, "Never".

Because skin is skin no matter how much it decays. Even if the epidermis turns into a rotting orange shade, littered with eyeballs and teeth that shouldn't grow there.Even if the blood from all those he's slain has finally stained his dermis, tainting it in a permanent crimson that all the waters of Lake Biwa could never wash off. Even if his hypodermis is no longer made of fatty tissue but rather spiritual energy sucked from the atmosphere. It's still skin, the same old skin he was born with.

Sukuna had never shed his skin, he'd only perfected it, enhanced it, molded it into its perfect form, until he was no longer held back by foolish human limitations.

He'd never been "reborn" only recreated; only perfected. 

Spike, talon and teeth covered arms sprouting from oozing, bleeding scars, charred over by begriming infections that burned worse than the strikes he'd endured as a child. Knuckles and bones cracking over and over and over again until they grew as solid as the rocks that were thrown at him when he was all too little to understand the malice behind the insults and threats. Breaking until they could break no more, until they'd become strong enough to split a boulder with a mere flick.

There had come a time when he'd given up licking his wounds, leaving them to be kissed by the mold-covered worms who left an urticating sensation he'd soon come to associate with victory. Rotting flesh growing covered in thick layers of black tar tattoos that hid every cut he'd endured when he'd once been too weak. 

Monsters were created from quarter truths buried neck-deep in fables that snipped like red-eyed scorpions. 

Until the blood dancing through their veins was as black as the void they now called home. 

Sukuna knew the exact moment he realized he was a monster. The day he realized he liked the crunch of skulls beneath his feet, the pitiful spark in mortified eyes staring at the heavens for a scrap of mercy. Mangled mouths barely held together by fractured jaw bones, uttering prayers and pleas that died in the scorching air. 

Sukuna knew he was an abnormality, patched together by broken heirlooms and shattered family traditions. Sitting on a throne made from skulls of those who thought they could ever kill him. 

You can't kill a monster, for you can not kill that which was never born. 

You can't slay something made from good intentions with malevolent methods, something so vile that it might actually be pure. At the end of the day, no monster really admits that it is a monster, a nightmare that should have never existed. 

Yet...

Tattered hearts and cruel orbs are never quite enough. No monster is complete until they dive off that last edge, plummet into the sea of nothingness, and finally, finally break their souls on the spiked soil. Monsters, spirits, curses any malicious being that had been mended together like a half-done ragdoll was not complete until they truly let go. Until they erased all the former humanity that they had been born with. Until their eyes reflected nothing, no emotions, no malice, no want, no need. Just the absolute emptiness. 

The void in all its glory.

that was the symbol, the true markings of a real monstrosity. The void that took over their existence, that had replaced every inch of their former self. Only then could it be said that you were above all other beings, the true perfection of this world. 

There are worse things created than monsters, things that are made from nothing and everything. Things above "Yin" and "Yang". Things that have no scrap of humanity, monstrosity, or anything in them.

Things that are just empty.

So maybe -just maybe- that's why when Sukuna's rotting orange eyes landed on the epitome of emptiness, a...girl, whose face was sculpted to disreflect emotions and intents. Someone who was the void of darkness itself. The true personification of nothingness. 

His heart -for the first time in countless centuries- began to throb.

a truly dead face swarmed by a sea of buzzing ants, chasing their routine happiness. Smiles of delight and carelessness carved on their aging faces with sunlight knives and the melody of golden coins. The lust for life leaking from every pore of their bodies. 

With every face being a carbon copy of each other it was no wonder yours stood out.

There was a silver chain of attraction, dragging Sukuna towards the village girl. Not love, never love, the king of curses was beyond certain, that neither you nor he could feel such a honey-laced sensation. It was more like....something. Something paranormal, inexpiable. Some magnetic force outside of everything's control. 

It was easy enough to explain why he liked you. Why you stood out from the other insects of this middle-of-nowhere-village. 

You had dark matter for blood and dead seas for brains. 

Your eyes radiated an endless abyss. Making others shy away from your lifeless gaze. Scared to look into the void in fear that it may respond. 

You were a thrown away doll,

A living dead,

A dying star,

You were the daughter of the number zero,

The monster that had no maker nor mother. 

Something not born nor created. 

Just an entity that roamed the earth, with no desire nor hope, no wish nor dream. Not leaving, not dying, just existing in the space between today and tomorrow. 

There'd been no need for pleasantries, for hiding behind ghostly tree branches and frozen windows. There'd been no need to kill or ravage for you. No competition to eliminate, because no one ever came near you. Humans don't like what they can't explain, Sukuna knew that all too well. 

Sukuna watched from a close enough distance to almost touch. Lingering around like a phantom begging to be noticed. Orbs trailing over you, but never approaching. Until one day he'd just stood still. Waited for you to turn your head just a fraction to the left, just to see him in all his menacing terror. To finally notice the clawing, crawling sensation that had been creeping up your spine like a hoard of spiders. 

And when your dead eyes did finally land on him. Sukuna could swear that his breath hitched in his throat for the first time in his seemingly endless life.

You weren't human. Humans didn't have hollow faces or marbles for lips. 

You weren't a curse. Curses didn't lack venom dripping from their souls.

You were something better than a monster. You were the divinity of monstrosity, the void itself. Black holes for eyes, answerless paradoxes for hands, and an endless maze where your torso should have been. 

 Exploding suns danced around you, burning, burning, till they died out, leaving behind no trace that they once lit up the universe. 

The space after the end, that's what you were.

Perfect, to Sukuna you were perfect.

You hadn't run, hadn't screamed, hadn't even bothered to talk. You didn't care about him, couldn't care about him. That's what made him want you, made his mouth salivate with the thought of your flesh between his teeth. 

That night the world stood still, as Sukuna's claws penetrated your flesh like twirling needles. You were as light as a feather. You weighed nothing, were nothing. All so easy to pluck and throw about. You never made a noise when your body collided with the bamboo walls, just letting gravity and Sukuna play a twisted ball game with your lump of a body.

You hadn't protested when he violated you. As his lips bit every inch of your body raw. For some unearthly reason that even the gods couldn't understand, would never want to understand, you had found the Curse's violent actions rather...adoring. Taking every slap and slash with the earnest pride of a small child getting praised for a day of relentless chores. letting the dawn-tinted-haired monster adorn your body in blue and purple jewels. It felt right, in a  pathetically, nauseating, twisted way...it just felt right.

 It was disastrous, sure, but it was right. Like two universes crashing. Destroying each other with every kiss and every bruise. 

But...

For the first time in your meaningless life, you had truly understood what "happiness" felt like. 

For the first time in his endless life, Sukuna had truly understood what "intimacy" felt like.

///

Was it wrong to kiss you? For a fraction of a second Sukuna hesitated, blood tinged lips hovering millimeters away from your own stone-set ones. The moon's cursed rays acting like an unnoticed barrier, keeping two things out of each other's grasp. His lips curled back revealing two rows of knife-like teeth. The last resort, a final hope that you'd run away, that you'd act somewhat normal. The king of curses, the evil among men, didn't mind your lack of regularity. He didn't mind how you leaned into every bitter strike, every painful display of fading affection . He adored how you merely giggled as he slashed open your uncharged skin, creating slits for your blood to spill through, onto his waiting tongue. He admired your lifelessness, the way you radiated death. 

Oh, how you filled him with a startling aftershock every time he touched you. Every time his tongue lapped at your bleeding skin he'd feel the sort of electric shocks that came after the storms had passed. Your body had no shape, it molded to his touch, turning his favorite shades of red, with just a little pressure. 

But sometimes, in fleeting, endless seconds. He wished he had a name for what you two were. You weren't his per se, you could never be his. Being his would indicate that he cared about you, or heck even loved you and that could never be true. The king of curses did not love, nor care. He merely tolerated you; you fascinated him, that's all. 

It had been many moons since he first found you in that no-name village. Months upon months since you'd been by his side. You'd watched as he'd destroyed cities, helped him even. Eyes never shedding a single tear. Mouth never uttering a single protest. 

The two of you had become the best, the King of curses and the Queen of nothingness. With the dying speed of laboring bees, Sukuna had carved himself inside of you. Twisted emptiness into flower-covered destruction. Into molten gold lava. 

Leaving you with wounds that were stuck in a cycle of healing and opening. Until they began to harden like his. Until the need for spilled blood lingered on your tongue like the burn of boiled tea. Until under your nails were coated in a decaying crust of dried blood. Sukuna hadn't turned you into a monster, he'd simply showed you the powers that came with your apathy. With a heart as torn and cold as yours, it was a shame to let it go to waste. 

"You're not half bad," his tone is never approving. It's always laced with a strictness that keeps you nailed into place. His words are oxymorons sounding like praise, but once you peel back the lather layers they're just taunts in disguise. 

You don't answer, words die on your tongue as quickly as they are born. Sukuna can't even remember what your voice sounds like outside of small whispers in heat filled nights. 

 However, to the two of you, things like that didn't matter. Your lack of being even semi-alive and Sukuna's endless abuse had become a norm for the two of you. Where else were a two-faced monster and a lifeless girl going to find love anyway? 

Sukuna was all you had, all you ever had. You'd die for him, kill for him, turn into anything for him. Because he gave you life. 

A purpose to life, made out of raging fires and endless screams. A life fabricated from the pain and suffering of others. That was what the king of curses had given you, all wrapped in a human skin parchment. Maybe that's why all logic withered away the first night he kissed you, maybe from the first second that you sensed his presence you had finally gained a reason to be alive. 

///

Whoever said the end of the world was beautiful? Whoever said the final days would be bright and glowing and pure? 

It's just a blaze of stray flames and red crystal droplets that may or may not be your blood. Funny, Sukuna had always thought that your blood would be as black as the moonless sky, not a mundane red like everyone else's. He'd expected a grander death from you. Some sort of black hole opening to swallow the world whole. Not just another corpse motionless in a pool of their own blood. 

Although he's not one to talk. His own 'death' is lingering on the horizon. Sukuna's head tilts back looking for the flashing jujutsu sorcerers. 

"S-sukun-a..." 

He smirks, fangs sticking out at odd angles. Your voice is sweet, for the first time in forever he'd even dare say it held some semblance of emotion. 

What that emotion is, he doubts he knows or even really cares. He'd long since stopped trying to identify all those "feelings" and their associated names. 

His orange eyes lock with your fading orbs, one last time. No, not the last time, just the final time in this lifetime. He's sure he's going to see you again. In any other life, Sukuna knows he'll be able to recognize you despite whatever flesh suit you'd be wearing. 

"Shh little one," he's halfway gone before he finishes his sentence, leaving you to relish in his memory in your final moments. "We'll see each other once more, someday in another life..."

His four eyes lock on the approaching sorcerers. He finds it humorous how desperate they look. How alive and ready they seem, such a stark contrast to your ever lifeless face and dead eyes, it repulses him. 

"Or maybe in one of the circles of hell." 

The flames encircling his fingers remind him of the heat your body radiated in the dead of night. The crack from bones hum as they meet his knuckles, flash memories of your days wasted together doing nothing and everything. 

The two of you will meet once more, he's sure of it. After all...

Monsters never die. 

How could something that was never even born in the first place, ever die?

[kaisa-ryo]

Attention deficit (pt. 1)

jujutsu kaisen

Characters: Itadori Yuji, Satoru Gojo, Megumi Fushiguro, Inumaki Toge, Sukuna Ryōmen, Nanami Kento, Suguru Geto

Warning: English isn't my native language!

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*

Itadori Yuji

Itadori in this situation acts, oddly enough, completely primitive. The less attention he sees from you, the more he tries to get him back. In other circumstances, this might even seem exaggerated, but here and now this is the most critical moment. What does he do? Yes, everything in a row: drops the book, turns its pages, rummages in the bag, humming softly to himself, and so on ... And all this continues until it comes to stroking the hips and lightly squeezing one palm, while the other rewrites the abstract ...

- I miss the old y/n. - he gives out with sadness in his eyes.

At this moment, the game of interest begins: you feel how simultaneously there is a feeling of spontaneous and purposeful manipulation, how you are gently and imperceptibly pushed towards the long-awaited goal.

In such a situation, one could easily succumb, but you, resisting this, answer:

- Yuji, I'm very busy right now.

It would seem that a strong guy fights curses, trains with the strongest shamans, but with ordinary words it is so easy to break.

It's hard for you to realize that right now he is depressed because of you. It's unusual to see a sad Yuji almost always smiling and making others do the same. Especially you.

And so you compromise, intertwining your fingers, frowning slightly and pretending to listen to something inside yourself ... After that, Yuji remains in this position for a long time, as if afraid to frighten you off, because now such closeness between you is too valuable to miss out.

Satoru Gojo

It turns out that sometimes even acting like a fool doesn't help you pay attention to Gojo. First, the way you constantly focus on the same thing, so that the words in your speech get confused, takes on a comic character, and he comes to the idea that, for no reason, for no reason, you decided that work is more important to you than himself. Then you stop paying attention to him altogether. You no longer look at him from under your brows, do not frown at the idiotic jokes with which he is trying to distract you, as it was yesterday. Satoru notices that you are much smaller. He is puzzled and even confused. Finally, it occurs to him that you just have nothing to do, and comes up with the craziest idea to entertain you.

- What are you doing? - a voice of a man sounded nearby, who had been watching you with interest for some time.

There was no answer. However, it is not surprising.

- Okay, okay, you don't have to answer... - He looked away.

This was his usual technique. After asking several meaningless questions, he suddenly fell silent, as if giving you the opportunity to think over the answer properly, and he himself imperceptibly removed, leaving you in complete confusion. But this time, due to the circumstances, the technique had to be slightly changed.

In the next moment, he was already pressing you to him and, taking advantage of this, with his other hand began to explore the curves of your body. The reaction was as if you were doused with boiling water or doused with cold water.

- What are you doing? - You asked in a trembling voice.

- Checking to see if you got fat after we lost sex. - still clinging to you, he answered. You were taken aback and began to push him away from you.

- I have not grown fat, let me go! You barked, feeling his arms tighten. - Let go! Fool! Let go!

Hands rested on your back, and he began to rock you slowly, stretching the moment when you finally stop resisting.

- It's okay, y/n. You just need to calm down. - he whispered, not hearing your words.

There is a mess in my head, the goal of your resistance has fled somewhere, and you start desperately hugging the man while he grins at the fact that he managed to do what he wanted.

Megumi Fushiguro

Megumi is not one of those who will behave like a child, attracting attention to herself when you do not even know the reason for her loss. He will speak to you as soon as he notices it.

- Do you want to talk about it?

You rub your eyes with fatigue, but you shouldn't ignore Fushiguro's question, because it concerns the two of you. No matter how serious his intentions are, he will always be there to remind you that you can talk to him about what worries you.

- I... will hardly give any good advice, but I will try to make it easier for you after the conversation. Megumi continues after a minute of your silence.

Even such a seemingly small detail as being able to talk to someone else significantly reduces stress and other not-so-good emotions. And the guy knows it.

- You can always count on my help. - already with a drop of confidence he says, and it's like the touch of a soft, pleasant hand on your shoulder. Of course, he does this primarily because he is worried, but this is only a secret cover for the fact that he is upset that you turned away from him, without noticing the real reason.

"Fushiguro, if I do this, I don't know... I... will feel like this..." The words elude you. It’s hard to even think about what you’ll say next.

The guy spreads his arms to give you room to hug and apologize, but you just put your head on his shoulder. You don't want to talk about anything else. The chest against which your head is pressed turns into a pillow. And then a quiet voice is heard:

- I'm not mad at you. You can stay here as long as you like.

But here you won't need anything as long as Fushiguro is around.

Inumaki Toge

Not surprisingly, the first thought that comes to him is "it's all because of the damned speech."

Does he talk to you too little? Maybe he is too quiet and invisible for you? Perhaps you are afraid that someday he will take control of you? From such questions echoing in my head, my jaws come together and a lump appears in my throat. But the worst thing is that Toge begins to doubt his right to meet with you, because he cannot even talk to you with dignity, as a person to a person. Even your sweet persistence, which sometimes breaks through the boundaries of ordinary attempts to turn the conversation back on track, does not help. As a result, when it comes to your attention deficit, he begins to think that all this time you did not notice him, as if he was one of those whom you forgot on the first day.

- Okaka? - the young man has been trying to attract your attention with his eyes for a long time, but it seems that even words cannot help.

- Sorry, Toge. I'm not in the mood today...

The guy was actually a perfectionist and would rather have your smile shine every day. I wish he could turn back time right now, scroll to the moment when something went wrong and fix it at any cost.

Inumaki tucked a lock of your hair behind his ear to see your face behind it. He knew you had flawless skin and plump, sensual lips. He would admire your face for hours.

The next second, the blond rested his head on your lap, looking into your eyes. You liked such cute things from him. They weren't vulgar or inappropriate. They were what she needed.

You smile faintly and stroke the hair on the back of his head, touching his cheek with your fingertips.

Sukuna Ryōmen

This is the case when Sukuna uses passive aggression. Slightly wrong, some small sign of ignorance - his speech turns into direct pressure on your relationship with him. He can really hurt you a lot if you don't appreciate his efforts to make you even a little happier. Most often they are small and insignificant, the kind that anyone would do, but for the King of Curses, this is really something grandiose. And since he has many ways to destroy your relationship, if you think he made a mistake, remember how it hurts him.

- Will you ignore me again? - Sukun asked with imperious anger, the last pieces of despair were dying in his soul. - And where is your mercy? If I have become disgusting to you, why do you continue to need me?

There was nothing to answer. It was not pride that tormented him at all, but an ever-deeper regret that with your equanimity you just caused another outbreak of rage in him. Most of all, the thought that you, perhaps, does not even notice it, and your eyes clouded with pain glide over something that is very dear to him, terrified him.

The dead silence continued, and my chest ached more and more. Then there was a soft groan:

- Y/n, I love you.

Tears ran down your cheeks, but did not brush them away with my hand. You knew it wasn't going to help. Bitter emotions generated by the word "love" are not able to be burned out on the face, like the sun on clay. You can't stop feeling. And all the same, looking at you was as painful as seeing your motionless glazed gaze.

He hugged you from the back as soon as he felt that you were repenting. Like the time you forgave him for calling you your own. He had strong hands - you can be sure. He was very gentle. You felt less pain. Maybe in the future it will be difficult for him to remember this, but now he tightly squeezed you in his arms and was so affectionate that you wanted him to never let you go.

Nanami Kento

He begins to suspect that something is wrong very early. First, morning kisses disappeared somewhere before leaving for work, then sincere conversations at the table, and then completely short meetings with glances. Moreover, the last remnants of intimacy are gone. Nanami began to think that something had happened to you. He always tried to protect you from any problems. And so you found yourself right in front of him, so closed and detached, he could not so easily take away the comfort and peace that he had been creating for so long and skillfully. And first of all, of course, he will lend you a helping hand to make it easier for you as quickly as possible.

A perplexed look will appear from under dark eyelashes after a man touches your forehead with his palm. It seems that the whole thing is not about health.

- You don't have a fever. He began.

- I know, thanks.

But Kento was clearly hinting at something.

- So what's up? - then you know what Nanami means. But she said nothing.

- Y/n, I do not want to impose anything on you, I just need to know what is happening to you so that our relationship with you does not suddenly go downhill.

The man took your hand and brought it to his lips. Nanami felt that if he said something now, he would commit tactlessness. And so he was silent, waiting for your answer.

- Sorry... - Tears began to burn my eyes. - I am very, very ashamed. I... it's just hard for me now, but it will pass by itself. I'm sure.

You pressed as tightly as possible to the man, hugged him and buried your face in the chest. He put his hand on your head encouragingly. I already didn't care about the problem as a whole. Now for you there was only what you felt - his soft stroking, the smell of a strong male body, warmth and care, and there was nothing but that.

Suguru Geto

He will take it calmly, without intention. But she won't ignore it. Often he will offer tea or something else, just to get at least one word out of you, in an attempt to bring you into conversation. He will not touch you without asking, because he knows about the value of personal space. And yet, for a while, it can fiddle with spontaneous statements in order to simply take away the soul and break a long silence.

- I see your day is going well... - Geto smiles with restraint. - Lots of news for me?

Guessing that he is once again trying to create a dialogue between you was almost nothing. But you are, of course, silent.

- I see. - Suguru sits down next to you, as close to your side as possible, not giving a damn if you don't like it.

- Maybe I offended you in some way? - he continues. - Or are you just not too open in your thoughts?

- Nothing. It's okay. - you throw.

- But it seems to me that no. - he takes your hand in his, as if trying to make you smile. “I think you have something to tell me, don’t you? He raises his eyebrows, expecting your reaction. Instead of answering, you grimace with a shrug. Suguru repeats the question:

- So what happened? Why don't you want to share your thoughts with me?

- What would you like? You ask. - Would you be happy to know that there is a perfect girl with great manners, beautiful and intelligent, whom you deserve?

To be honest, Suguru did not expect such an answer. You can see that he is a little dumbfounded, but quickly comes to his senses. And then he starts laughing - so sweet and sincere that you start to feel embarrassed and blush with shame.

- And I was already expecting something more terrible. He laughs. - Okay, be it your way. I'm not a particularly sentimental person. I do not know what to say.

- Tell me you feel terribly in love. - grabbing his wrist, you say.

The brunette makes a startled face again. But you do not retreat - you hold him for a few more seconds, forcing him to surrender. - Only from the bottom of my heart ...

- Y/n, I feel terribly in love with you and will never fall in love again next time. So? He asked, grinning.

Wiping away the tears of happiness, you hugged him without words, while he, hugging you with one hand, exhaled with relief.

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*

[peakascum]

On the Edge of Eden

@slither-in-a-half​ hope you like this love! 

Click for song inspo! Moodboard?

His eyes traced your figure in a manner that could only be interpreted as boyish. His ears turned red, voice stammering with a little treble at the end, and his feet moved as if he were a newborn foal. He lacked confidence, his posture told you so- but could you blame the kid? You carried yourself with a graceful stance as if each wave and step were predetermined with consciousness and care. You were the talk of the gala, the name that slipped during tea time, the whispers that made it to the dirtiest corners of Small Heath. The youngest of the family, as was he. Common ground, he thought.

His feet carried him across the room, arms missing his aunt’s fingers by an inch and his brother’s angry whispers for him to stay put. They wouldn't care in a second, they would go back to their champagne and pretend that new money could buy them class and a new identity. He didn't think so or even care, not really; in fact, he didn't even try to hide his brummie accent or pretend to know which fork to use during dinner, even John struggled with that. 

Your eyes had been trained on him for a while, being there to catch his missteps and the occasional excessive laugh he’d hand out before the punchline was delivered. You too were conditioned to laugh at such jokes. At the meaningless banter that resonated through parties between nobles and esteemed families who had always looked down upon new money, like the Shelbys, which set the tone for your dislike towards your kin. Your mother groomed you to be a proper lady, bred to breed the finest that England had to offer in order to purify your name and- what else? How vain. 

The littlest Shelby had stammered his way through the entirety of the gala and held improper posture, which would only, and exclusively, be rectified when you tossed a wink or a silly face in his direction. It entirely went by his family’s head, but you did receive a proper kick to the shin from yours. It was just silly banter and perhaps a tad entertaining, much to his dismay, not in a way that would embarrass him completely, but just enough to taint his cheeks and further earn a glare from his siblings. 

The sillines, although flustered him, spoke volumes as to who hid beneath the expensive jewels and stoic expression. A girl, just a girl, who was anything but proper in the most intriguing and tasteful way. And it was in that utter lack of propriety that ignited a fire in his new dress shoes and sent him treading in your direction. 

He swiped two glasses from a nearby table and situated himself beside you. With a confident smirk he thrusted the glass in your direction, only slightly coating the floor beneath you, “A lady such as yourself shouldn't be drinking alone.” 

“A lady wasn’t, you just offered me a glass.” Your brow quirked in his direction.

“Y-yes, you seemed- thirsty. Had two in hand and you, glassless, appeared- uh-“

Your grin widened and brows shot up to your hairline, “-Unsatisfied?”

“I was going to suggest bored, but unsatisfied works too.”

 You giggled and took the glass from his hand, fingers grazing his smooth ones. You wondered just then how they would feel against your body and craved the touch of his fingertips, even just the the single caress of the tips, to edge across your face, to underline the blemishes that made up your young skin and maybe even leave a mark or two if they pressed hard enough against your hips. 

“For someone who seems to have it all, ‘unsatisfied’ is an odd word to use.”

“How so?”

“You're dripping in diamonds and you seem to walk as if you’d ‘ave a gun to your head.” He said it mindlessly, unbothered even, by the mere thought that you would immediately leave after such a remark. That’s why he detested these things. Upper class women seemed to be put off by talks of guns and mud. 

“Correct,” you hummed, “or a stick right up my arse.” His eyes darted to your face and then everywhere else to see if they heard. You just scanned the room. “My blood is blue and I shit diamonds, Mr. Shelby, doesn't mean I’m happy, or content, or-“

“-or satisfied.” He finished for you, staring intently at your profile. A small smile etched itself on your lips, “Or satisfied.”

“I’m Finn,” he said thrusting his hand in your direction, “Mr. Shelby is my brother.”

“Which one?”

“All- but really the one who does seem to have a whole tree branch up his arse.” This earned a whole hearted laugh from you, prompting a small chuckle from him. He made you laugh, genuinely. You turned in his direction and took his suspended hand in yours, and shook his hand with all the seriousness you could muster. 

“Well Finnegan Shelby it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Now, how about we drop this act, ditch the snobs and you show me how Small Heath does it.”

You welcomed the cold slapping of the wind as you would a warm hug. For a second, stillness and crickets. For a second, wires turned in question as to where should you go from here. Glancing towards his moonlit face you let out a heavy breath and hastily took your heals off, making you a couple of inches shorter than you already were. Finn offered you his arm for balance as the other clutched a whisky bottle he managed to snatch from the bar. With heals in hand, you raced through the filled and into the night. 

The skip in your step created a soothing rhythm with the howling wind, a melody you could get used to, one you prayed would come as often as life would allow it.

You lay on the ground surrounded by ramsons that had just started to bloom as Finn sat by your side, bending down ever so slightly to better view your features. Your hands nervously touched the diamond clad necklace that adorned your neck as you felt his eyes scan yours. For a girl whose entire life was spent under attentive eyes, his were the only ones to bring a jolt to your chest and an exuberant vitality to your entire being. 

“Watchful eyes you’ve got there.” His gaze shifted a little, as they did whenever you caught him watching.

“I can’t help myself.”

You cocked your head to the side and eyed him steadily, “Are you staring at my diamonds, Shelby? How pretty they shine under this light?”

“Shining rocks got nothing on you, love.”

“How flattering.” You scoffed. 

“You sound offended.”

“I despise lies, half truths. Men think that’s all that women want to hear. And some do, some eat it up and out of their hands as if they could never eat from their own.”

“You seem to take great interest in other’s concerns,” he said as you shook your head, “in matters and thoughts that imply your worth”

“I care not! I- I do not. It’s just a pity women are eyed like cattle and assumed to be foolish and of fallen grace!” You said, now agitated. Finn fancied the dark glow that came from your eyes, knowing he hit a nerve. You sat upright unlocking the necklace’s  hatch at the back of your neck. The rocks hit the limestone floor with a small thud no louder than that of a bird’s wings, and created a shimmering glare that adorned your face like small, expensive teardrops. 

“Your fit won’t change my mind if that’s what you're aiming at,” he provoked. You stood up with furrowed brows and hastily undid the back of your dress. His posture remained stoic but eyes widened in concern of your hurried movements. 

“What’s the matter Finn, aren’t women more rabid than men?” You chuckled as the dress slid  under the curve of your breasts, past your belly, and further pooled by your shoeless feet. Finn visibly gulped at the sight of your body in the delicate, silk slip. You stood proudly like a painting, a muse, waiting to be challenged and admired for his eyes, and only his. 

His head turned towards the house, which was only a dot in the mere distance, swallowed by music and acres of field. You stepped towards him towering over his sitting frame, took his hands in yours and placed them on your thighs, just below the seam of the slip. His cheeks turned a deep crimson that reminded you of the red pygmies that swam in the pond near your feet. “Suddenly at a loss for words, Shelby?”

He got up clumsily and towered over your body. Hands blended together in a pool of questions that should not and could not be answered with words, but with the mere touch of light grazes against his skin. How did he ever muster the courage to approach such a creature full of such beauty, whose aggressive approach to life had to be masked by the authoritarian glare of wealth and class. 

He knew where this was headed by your hurried kisses and the race of both hands. He halted your movements causing you to peer at him in a daze. “It’s not a race Y/N,” he said in a hushed manner.

“What’s the difference? You want me, you'll have me, and then leave,” you spat. 

“I want you, I’ll have you, and I’ll be back for more of you,” he paused to kiss your swollen lips, “for this,” he traced his lips over her breasts, “for more nights,” lips trailed to your belly, “no champagne, no diamonds. Just give up control, for once.” 

Your head tilted back as he nuzzled his head between your legs. His hands grazed the curves of your thighs while the wind nipped at your cheeks and flowers tickled your shins. The stars winked as the sky seemed to open up, all witnessing the spectacle that was just commencing. An exciting origin to an undoubtedly sublime love story. 

His soft fingers gripped your leg as he swung it over his shoulder, just as you imagined when you first accepted the glass in your empty glassless ones. 

Your sighs of pleasure mixed with his groans as he savored your juices, drinking you up like expensive cabernet. His tongue grazing the inside of your walls, kissing and nipping your bundle of pleasure, humming at your whines and muttering small praises full of lust and adoration. A garden of sinful pleasure built for the two.

*BONUS SCENE*

In the distance Tommy and Arthur stepped out into the balcony to get some air, the room suddenly seeming stuffed with snobs and meaningless conversation. They shared a cigarette and nursed their drinks, for a moment appreciating the quietness that spring brought every year. As Tommy dragged on about titles and politics, Arthur fixed his eyes in the distance, squinting and questioning if his mind was finally going mad. 

“Tom?” He stuttered. His brother held a hand up, “I know it’s the same shit with Mosely. Like a fuckin’ riddle-“

“Tom,” Arthur interrupted again, eyes widening as he stared at the distance. 

“No, it is! But if we ever catch-“

“Jesus fuck Tom, shut the hell up ‘bout the coppers and the bloody earls!” He said agitated. Tommy swirled his head to look at his brother’s rigid body. Arthur pointed into the distance, “There, Tom. There. By the tree, over the pond.”

Tommy followed his finger, having to squint his eyes to see the clear image.

“Fucken’ hell is that-“

“Fucken’ Finn!” Arthur cackled, choking on his own spit in the process. 

Tommy’s jaw slacked in complete and utter shock, “This fuckin’ kid I swear to God,” he muttered under his breath. Brow furrowing as his eyes scanned the property, suddenly worried that his brother’s laughter would attract attention to the scene that unfolded before them in the mere distance. “All right, all right Arthur- fuck,” he said as a small smirk formed on his stoic face. 

“Tom I can’t breath, I mean this is-“ Arthur howled, “this is almost fuckin’ biblical!”

“Arthur shh, okay okay just don’t-“

“Fuckin’ Adam and Eve shit Tom!”

[ri-ahhh]

take it back

Y’all seem to love a friends w benefits trope and I was heavily inspired by this gif that I couldn’t reblog cuz I’d probably get flagged but it looks a lot like gray if you put your mind to it. Anyways, it’s 5 AM and I can’t go back to sleep, so this is just a little something I’m typing out in the dark.

warnings: smut, might make you feel some type of way if ur a lonely bitch like me

***

There are certain rules you have to follow when you become someone’s fuckbuddy. Sometimes they’re unspoken, sometimes they’re laid out; either way, they exist, and the cardinal sin of breaking them can be worse than the act that makes those rules necessary in the first place.

It’s late — that’s well within the confines of the rules. You had hit him up a while ago, around midnight, unable to sleep and in desperate need of physical touch. A distraction from racing thoughts and an escape from the stress of the day.

The fact that it was Grayson you decided to hit up is where things maybe start to get dicey with the proverbial referee in the game of friends with benefits. Mostly because he’s becoming your one and only, the other boys on your hookup list fading from your mind when you’re faced with the opportunity to get some meaningless but satisfying sex. No one fucks you like he does, makes you cum like he does. Makes you feel like he does.

The two of you have a connection, but the dumb bitch in you is too prominent to let you consciously acknowledge it. You’re not interested in a relationship right now, no matter how good his dick is, or how warm your chest gets when you’re around him.

Or, even, how hard he makes you cum. Every time. Like earlier, after he had let himself in to your apartment, he had made the familiar trek down the dark hallway to your room, slipped into your bed, and immediately snuck his hand in your panties while he simultaneously greeted you with a warm, heavy kiss.

That was acceptable, because he was already well on his way to making you cream in your underwear; the relieved sigh you released against his lips and the overwhelming sense of comfort of having him in your bed was decidedly not. Fuckbuddies aren’t supposed to like having someone in their own beds beyond getting the job done that they came there to do.

Given the hour, you hadn’t expected him to remove his hand in favor of eating you out, but he had. Slipped your panties off and slid right down the bed until he was between your legs and his mouth blanketed your sex with expert dexterity. Your whimpers and moans were too soft and intimate as he slid a hand beneath his sweatshirt that you’re wearing, squeezing a breast and tugging on the nipple while his other kneaded the quivering muscles of your inner thigh. But he was watching you so intently, with so much care that it felt wrong to be any louder or more wanton — or worse, hold back any noises at all.

When you cum on his mouth with a cry of his name, Grayson licks you clean before standing off the bed to get naked. For a moment, you allow yourself the pleasure of admiring him as he does so in the ultra-dim light of the room coming from your bedside lamp, then work at getting your own top over your head. And just like that, it’s back to following the rules: undressing yourselves rather than one another.

Now, with your legs thrown over his broad shoulders, your hands clutching desperately at his bulging biceps as he flicks his hips into yours so perfectly, you’re back to feeling some type of way. You’re locked into the trance of his eyes, and he yours; the tip of his dick hits so deep you don’t even know where the two of you are separate beings anymore. If you could be one with this man forever, you would.

That deserves a yellow card, for sure, but it’s potentially passable as a heat of the moment, I’m-getting-that-good-d thought.

“So big,” you can’t help but praise breathlessly, reaching up and threading your fingers through the damp hair at the back of his head. He thrusts harder, but maintains that excruciatingly steady pace that has your eyes rolling back and your toes curling in the air. You moan gutturaly and focus your gaze back on his flushed face. “Feels so fucking good, baby.”

Somewhere in another universe, your alter ego is throwing a red card for that violation.

It’s worth it, though, when his eyes blacken and he ducks down to kiss you roughly, his tongue sweeping into your mouth. You suck on it with another moan, which morphs into high-pitched gasps and whimpers with how his shift has changed the position. He’s even deeper now, his sweaty skin pressed against yours so everything is hotter, both physically and emotionally.

Grayson tucks his head by your ear, his rosy, swollen lips grazing the shell of it as he whispers to you with a maddeningly gentle, easy voice.

Low and raspy —“Pussy so tight. Dripping wet all over my cock just for me, huh? Who else gets you this fuckin wet, sweetheart?”

Uh oh. Now you’re both thrown out of the game.

Still, your pussy clenches around his dick at his words, and both of you groan loud in each other’s ears. “Just you, Gray,” you manage. He speeds up at your affirmation, and you tug hard on his hair while your other hand drags red tracks across his sculpted back. “Oh my... fuck, baby, please.”

He works for you, panting and gasping and grunting until he gets you there with just his dick and you’re seizing up all around him. Your pussy flutters madly, cumming so hard that it drives him over the edge himself before he can even think about pulling out. The warm spurts of his cum filling you up only serve to prolong your seemingly never-ending orgasm.

Grayson moans and lowers down to his elbows so he can cup your cheeks in his hands, drawing you to him for a deep, passionate kiss that both has your head in the clouds and grounds you suddenly. The waves coursing through your body are waning, and you have enough clarity to pull away from his lips with a small smile. He grins back, and follows your lead when you push back on his collarbone gently.

Your legs, sore and slightly crampy now that your mind isn’t so distracted, drop back to the bed with a satisfied sigh from your lips. You take a minute to gather yourself and Grayson catches his breath next to you. He takes your hand in his while the two of you stare at the ceiling together, before you leave him with a squeeze to his fingers to use the bathroom.

You re-enter the bedroom to find him partially dressed, sitting on the edge of your bed staring blankly at a pile of clean clothes you’ve yet to hang up in your closet. He’s got his shirt in one hand, his phone in the other, and he smiles at you when he notices you.

“What are you doing?” you ask, climbing back onto your bed and slipping under the sheets with a little smile. He’s close enough that you can reach over and tickle your nails against the smooth skin of his ribs.

He flinches and you giggle. His fingers capture yours and bring them to his lips, where he presses a sweet kiss to them. “Waiting for you.”

You hum, your breath catching in your throat in the next moment when he starts leaning down, his intention clear on his handsome face.

Despite yourself, you let him kiss you. It’s nice and soft and comforting and confusing.

He pulls back, staring at you with eyes that have gone that green-hazel that you love so much post-coitus. His thumb caresses your jaw, your still-flushed cheek, and he waits for you to respond.

“What was that?” you question, wrapping your petite hand around his forearm gently. You need something to hold on to, to keep you focused and in the moment.

Grayson hesitates. “I can’t give you a kiss goodbye?”

“You’re not supposed to.” You’re voice has dropped to a whisper without you even realizing it, and you sink your teeth into your lower lip to ground you even more. “Take it back.”

He just stares at you, and you try not to be affected by the hurt you see flash behind his pretty eyes. Try and fail, as his fingertips move from your neck to your lips, sweeping across them softly before pressing his fingers to his own mouth.

“There,” he says quietly, rising from the bed with a small, sad smile. “Undone.”

You watch him walk out of your room with no further conversation.

Sleep escapes you even more so than before you asked him to come over. And by the light of morning, you pick up your phone once again, coming to the conclusion that some rules are meant to be broken for the right person.

[rachellelie]

A Romantica Surprise

A Junjou Romantica fanfic for @romanticaweek Enjoy! :) Feel free to read on A03 as well. (There's a bonus chapter over there!)

It was winter, and a light snowfall was softly flurrying to the ground. It was around Usagi’s birthday in March, and the snow was letting up now; spring was almost around the corner. The couple stood waiting for the Ferris wheel, a way to end the ‘date’ that Misak had been forced to take Usagi on. To be fair, when he had asked what the man wanted for his birthday the response, of course, was ‘You.’ Misaki figured if that was gonna be the response…he would oblige. He tried not to shudder at the thought, the conversation went something like:

“Fine! Since you only seem to want me, then I will do one thing of your choosing. Whatever you want!”

Usagi arched an eyebrow at that, “Oh?” He smirked. “You sure you can handle that?”

Which of course was followed by a stunned pause and some sputtering then, “Have at it! Do your worst!” Misaki exclaimed, doing his best to ignore the wave of heat that washed over his face.

Usagi stepped closer to him. “Well in that case. The one thing I want you to do is…” Misaki braced himself, “Love me.” Usagi pointed at himself.

“What?” Misaki deadpanned, “But I already-mmph!” He was cut off as Usagi’s lips touched his, the sudden kiss deepened and he felt strong arms wrapping around him, as cold hands brushed through his hair; his face.

It was a blur after that; consisting of a flurry of clothes, skin, kissing, and touching. Lots of touching.

Eventually, they had settled on going on a date to celebrate instead.

They were at the end of the date now, and they were ending it with the Ferris Wheel. Usagi seemed to like it, Misaki had learned. Though he couldn't quite fathom why… it's not like he had confessed his love to him on it once upon a time or anything…

Anyway, now they stood at the base and the wheel came to a stop for them. As they walked on Misaki could feel a hand on the small of his back, and there was a slight warmth of air that grazed his ear as a low voice sounded, “Watch your step.” He could hear the smile in his voice.

Now, they sat across from each other as the wheel started to slowly turn and lift them up in the air. Misaki had been on many dates now with Usagi since they met, a few of them had involved the Ferris Wheel. But this time was different. And Misaki was nervous. It had been a few years now since his brother had found out about their relationship. Since he had slowly come to accept it much thanks to the help of his wife.

It had been awkward at first, going on double dates where his brother's eyes would dart between the two of them, and he would tense whenever they showed any sign of affection towards one another. Gradually, he had come to relax about them a bit more.

Then there was the case of Usagi’s family. His obsessive brother, defiant father, and unhinged mother. They hadn’t exactly crossed that bridge quite yet when it came to sorting out that complex family dynamic. But there was still some growth there as well, which had become apparent when Misaki had sought them out a few weeks ago to discuss his…intentions.

***

“You asked to meet, Takahashi-kun?” Usagi’s father sat across from Misaki, one leg crossed over the other in their family living room. Usagi’s mother sat in a chair beside him, sipping her tea, eyes level on Misaki. Misaki sat up straight, and stared straight at her, hands clenched on top of his legs as he tried to hide how nervous he was.

“Um. Yes. Sir.” He still couldn't quite believe what he was about to say to both of them. Usagi’s father sat back, relaxing into himself as he eyed Misaki up and down, assessing.

“And how is my son faring these days?” His lover’s father asked. To which Misaki started to respond, “Usagi-Ah, Akihiko is...fine?” He squeaked. Usagi’s father had a slight smile at that, and cradled a finger to his temple, “I actually meant Haruhiko. I understand he still has...an admiration for you.” Misaki narrowed his eyes at that, unsure if he was being made fun of or not. “I...wouldn’t know.” He tried to keep his voice even. “But I think he may have...met someone?” He ventured, unsure of how much to say. There had been a period of time when someway, somehow Haruhiko had started to date Aikwawa, Usagi's editor, or so it seemed. Not that Misaki had anything to do with that...(*shameless self-plug here* see my fanfic regarding this couple here)

“I see.” Usagi’s father smiled, and Akihiko?” He finally asked.

Misaki took a sharp breath, “Listen, sir. I...understand you may have some...hesitative feelings towards me.”

He raised an eyebrow, “Oh?”

“Yes and I...wanted to meet you with you to talk about er, how um...” he gulped, “how serious I am. About your son. Usa-Akihiko. About...me...and him and er, our um...relationship?” His voice went up an octave on the last word, and he could feel the wave of heat that washed over his face.

“And how serious are you?” He leaned forward, suddenly interested. Usagi’s mother sipped her tea.

“Um, well, I...have....intentions...in mind, I suppose.”

“You. Suppose?”

“No, I...I mean...I’m sure. I want...there’s something I would like to ask you-regarding my…intentions…and, I hope you...I just wish for your...support. Not just for me, but for…your son....as well. For both of us. Our relationship. I...I’m sorry,” he breathed, hanging his head, “I...I’m not like your son. I’m not very good with words.” He looked down at his lap, clenching his fists, and let a beat of silence fall between them.

No matter how strongly you feel in your heart, if you don't convey it to the other person, it's meaningless. Usagi’s father's old words washed over him, and he felt his resolve harden.

Finally, he looked up, determination in his eyes, “However-” Usagi’s mother lifted her gaze and met his eyes, throwing him off.

He gulped as her gaze pierced through him but he carried on. “However,” he said trying to get his footing once more, “I...only wish for you to hear me out. I have....intentions...for our-my....relationship with your son. And wish to ask him something in the future, and I only ask that you hear me out and offer me-us…your...support and…” he sucked in a breath, “I ask for your blessing.” The parents looked at each other before looking back at him. Misaki waited with bated breath for their response.

***

“Did you hear me?” Misaki jumped slightly as he was brought back to the present. Remembering his conversation with Usagi’s parents from earlier hadn’t helped; only made him more nervous.

“What?” He asked, to which Usagi cocked his head to the side and eyed him up and down.

“Are you feeling all right? You’re acting...strange. Which is unusual, since you normally say that about me.” He leaned forward, a look of concern on his face as he reached a hand up to Misaki's forehead. Misaki knocked it aside, but not before he felt a wave of cold against his forehead, helping to calm his nerves.

“I’m fine,” he insisted, as a wave of warmth flowed throughout his body from the aftermath of being touched. He looked away, out the window of the Ferris Wheel, trying to avoid looking at Usagi’s eyes. He tried to breathe, in and out and in and out. He could do this...he could do this..he could do this...

“My father called me the other day.” Oh, no. “Said the strangest thing. Something about you going over to meet with my parents? Voluntarily? Why on Earth-”

“It was nothing!” Misaki blurted, trying to catch him off track. How much had his father told him? “I mean...um..what...what else did he say, exactly?” He asked, trying to assess the answer.

Usagi shrugged, “Just that, really. That you met with them, had a heart to heart and...” he leaned back and gave a soft smile, causing Misaki’s heart to flutter. His gaze never wavered as he stared at Misaki as if he was the only thing that mattered in the world, “said he...wanted me to be happy.” He looked away, out the window at the snow that was gently falling towards the sparkling streetlights down below.

Misaki's eyes widened at that, heart jack-rabbiting in his chest. Did that mean...what he thought it meant? “Oh,” he said, unable to help himself at the realization. A feeling of relief washed over him then and he knew. He knew he could do what he brought Usagi here for...and that everything was going to be all right. He knew that from his father saying just those simple words to his son, that he was finally being accepted by him.

“Um, listen, Usagi-san,” he started. Then stopped. He could do this…he could do this. “I…there’s something I…have been wanting to ask you….for um, a while now…” He trailed off, his voice breaking. Face flushed, he stared down at his lap and clenched his hands into fists in front of him.

Usagi tilted his head to the side, “Oh?” He arched an eyebrow and gave a small smile.

Outside the snow started to fall and he experienced a sense of déjà vu. Memories flickered in his mind. It had been snowing like this on another fateful night, underneath a streetlamp. When he wished to be important to a special someone and had not yet known the reality of a wish that was beginning to coming true. He remembered then, another memory washing over him, the warm tug of a scarf being placed around his neck and looking up to a loving face while being called small before stepping onto the wheel. And those three simple words that he had uttered in an even and calm tone. The smile on Usagi’s face as he stared out the window, much like he was doing now. And the feel of a heartbeat traveling between the warmth of their hands clasped together.

He had been calm then, when he had admitted his true feelings for the first time. He could be calm now.

He tried again, staring ahead at his lover, mustering up all of his courage to ask his lover an important question.

“Usagi-will you-”

“What’s with that?” He cut him off, looking pointedly…downwards. “What’s got you so excited, all of a sudden? Is this your way of confessing to me? That what you actually want right now is my-”

Misaki blushed and his eyes widened in surprise and he looked down again, before blurting out and cutting him off, “That's just something in my pocket! I swear! It’s not like that!” He looked down, “I er umm you see this is…”

Usagi laughed and cocked his head to the side, “Oh? If I didn’t know any better I’d think that you were just about to ask me….” He paused, his eyes lit up with amusement, and he brought a finger to his chin, thinking.“Oh, ho, tell me, Misaki, is that a ring in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?”

Silence.

Misaki’s face quickly became cherry red.

Then, he gulped and reached into his pocket, pulling out a small black box.

Usagi’s eyes widened in surprise. All amusement from them vanished.

“This is um er well…”

He sighed.

“What I wanted to say was….I know I’m not very good at words like you are or saying the right thing sometimes. But I just want…to…stay by your side. Forever. And there is…one thing I can say. To hopefully...make that happen. So…um.” He sat up straighter and looked straight ahead. “U-Usagi-san. I…I love you. And want to stay with you, forever. So. Will you-will you marry me?”

He shut his eyes tightly and held out the box, opening it to show the ring inside.

He waited. The only sound was the slight creaking of the wheel cart, that had now stopped at the highest point on the wheel. (Misaki had bribed the worker to give their cart extra time at the very top while he proposed).

Slowly he opened one eye, then the other. He looked at him, waiting for his response.

First, it was shock. That’s what crossed Usagi’s face. Then, it slowly changed to a calm and adoring expression.

Misaki's heart flip-flopped in his chest.

“Pfft,” He covered his smile with his hand, looking away to hide his outburst.

“Hey! Are you making fun of me?”

“I would never! I just never expected this. You’re always surprising me. That's why I love you, Misaki. Loving you is my everything.”

“Is-is that a yes?”

“Do you even have to ask?”

Well, yeah. Misaki thought to himself, That was sort of the point.

Usagi leaned forward and took Misaki’s hand in his. Usagi’s hands were warm now, for once, and Misaki felt Usagi's thumb brush over the back of his hand, sending a wave of pleasure through him.

“All, all right then.” Misaki smiled sheepishly, looking away before he burst from embarrassment. “I-here,” He pulled away, grabbing the ring from the box and holding it out for Usagi to take. Usagi smiled and shook his head.

“Put it on me,” He simply stated, flicking his wrist forward, holding out his hand. Misaki paused, then sighed. Misaki knelt down to one knee in front of Usagi and slowly slid the ring onto Usagi's ring finger.

Engraved on the front of the band were two teddy bear heads (resembling Suzuki-san), along with a heart that was in the middle and overlapping them. Words had been engraved on the inside as well. They read, “this year, next year, the year after, and all the years after that.”

As Misaki finished sliding the ring completely on his finger, Usagi leaned forward and reached a hand up around the back of Misaki’s neck, pulling him to him, and kissed him as Misaki kneeled down in front of him. Usagi felt him tense in surprise, then relax into it as he had slowly started doing the more he got used to it over the years. He deepened the kiss, and Misaki let him. Finally, they pulled away and Usagi brought his forehead to his, hands holding the side of Misaki’s face, his thumbs caressing his cheeks. Misaki glanced up at him from underneath his eyelashes.

And how he smiled.

[plumoh]

[Yuumori] tethering touch

Rating: G

Word count: 1846

Summary: “Sherlock's soft and long fingers don't shake in the slightest when he touches William's hair, brushing aside uneven bangs that were covering the scar of his eye.” A touch, no words, and trust. / pre-chapter 57.

Note: AO3 link. The fic is set right before chapter 57, during the timeskip, and was written before the release of chapter 62.

The window is open.

A carriage drives at a brisk pace and causes someone to hurl half-shouted insults at it, probably due to its close proximity to the sidewalk. A dog barks, terrified, while its owner murmurs reassurances. The cries of children running around and playing games travel from one street to another, clear and innocent.

The wind blows gently against the thin curtains; the weather is nice, a good day to take a walk and enjoy tea outside to relax.

The second chair at the table scrapes on the wooden floor, and Sherlock winces as he lets himself drop into it without grace. He at least had the forethought to put his mug of coffee on the table beforehand; William wouldn’t have cleaned the stains for the third time in as many days.

“It’s too early for chairs to make that much noise,” Sherlock mutters.

“Perhaps yanking on a chair without lifting it from the floor isn’t the right way to sit,” William says, the corner of his lips curling upwards.

Sherlock shrugs, his face giving no hint of a change in behavior in the foreseeable future. William thinks he can manage watching chairs being poorly treated for a while longer, since a month or two are meaningless compared to three years of cohabitation.

“Did you leave the window open all night?” William asks, glancing at the slightly damp ledge that got rained on during the night.

“I smoked too much last night, I figured it wouldn’t be pleasant to walk into the living room with that stench in the morning.”

It tugs at William’s heart, a gentle grip that can turn forceful any time. No matter how long he spends observing Sherlock, no matter what truths and secrets they’ve told each other, one way or another William finds himself always, always surprised at small gestures and reasonings that make up Sherlock’s strange character. He’s grown over these past three years—they both have, though not everyone would be satisfied with whom they’ve become, most likely. But they are the only judges of themselves, uncaring of the opinion of others.

But it is unlike Sherlock to forget something as basic as opening the window when he smokes. William stares at him, searching for a sign of discomfort or doubt that wasn’t apparent the night before. There is a small crease between Sherlock’s brows, pinching his face into an expression of both focus and concern that hardly belongs on these cocky features allowing nobody to think he’s hesitant.

William brings his cup of tea to his lips, carefully, biding his time.

“I was under the impression your habits have improved, and that you have been smoking less in the last few months,” William says. “Did you get enough sleep this week? We could re-institute our nightly games of chess, if it helps you relax.”

Sherlock, mirroring William in a deliberate and casual gesture, sips his coffee and stays silent. His gaze never leaves William’s, assessing and critical, like he’s expecting to be teared open from the inside out if he lets too many emotions slip through his fake calmness. William smiles at the thought behind his cup.

"Of course, I don't believe that losing to me every night would give you the desired effect. Your brilliant mind needs rest, too."

"You have a way with words that makes me wonder if I should be amazed or frustrated, Liam."

Sherlock puts down his mug and sighs deeply, throwing his head back and staring at the ceiling. William places his cup on its saucer, and gets up. He pushes back his chair like he's handling something precious, his gaze focused on where his feet are and what his hands are gripping to avoid stumbling, then he makes his way around the table to stand next to Sherlock. Sherlock cuts a glance at him, half-sprawled on his chair and half-stiff with unnecessary worry.

"I'm not saying this lightly, when I suggest you should let your mind rest," William says in a low voice. "You are filling your head with cumbersome thoughts that have no reason to exist in the first place."

William doesn’t understand why the air is so heavy with doubt this morning, so stifling when they’ve agreed on the plan a long time ago already. Being overwhelmed with the panicked need to back down at the last second before the act is not an option permitted in the life they’ve chosen to live; they go through with their decisions and succeed. Failure is rarely brought onto the table, because they can’t afford to fail.

Sherlock’s body relaxes ever the slightest upon hearing William’s words.

“You’re right,” Sherlock whispers. “I just have to act like I always do.”

William smiles. “I’m sure three years aren’t long enough for you to forget how to act around your brother and the MI6. You’re still the same.”

Wild, unpredictable and straightforward Sherlock Holmes—a person that slips through people’s fingers when they think they have him in their palms, someone that uses flamboyant methods to get out of unpleasant situations. His words are sharp and awkward in their honesty, grazing at skins without the intention of hurting, but he’s too earnest. William is nothing like Sherlock at all, from their opposite dressing styles to their obvious different way of thinking, and yet.

And yet, William shares half of his mind with Sherlock, and Sherlock listens to him.

William slides a hand on Sherlock’s shoulder, feathery-like touch leaving behind trails of phantom strokes. He smoothes a wrinkle here, dusts off a spot there, then pulls lightly on the shirt’s collar, prying it open easily without a tie holding it together. The underlying message doesn't go unnoticed, judging by Sherlock's soft laugh. When he looks at Sherlock’s face, William finds hawk eyes watching him with rapt attention, scrutinizing him like he’s harboring all the unresolved wonders of the world.

“Well, mostly the same,” Sherlock points out with a grin. “My tie’s in the bedroom. I’ll get it later.”

“You will make a lasting impression, I’m sure.”

“Yes, reappearing three years later with a tie strangling me will do that.”

A laugh escapes William’s throat, and Sherlock keeps looking at him like he will never tire of watching the blooming of roses. Sherlock shouldn't make this kind of expression; he should know better than to let such naked feelings dance on his face and in his eyes, hiding none of the bizarre, fiery affection he's nurtured over the years for William. It's a dangerous train of thought that William lets fester in a corner of his mind without doing much about it—maybe when it fully takes root and can't be plucked off anymore, then William will acknowledge it and will no longer run away.

Sherlock wrenches his gaze away and glances at the table. William follows his movements and watches him pick up the abandoned black eyepatch next to the tea pot, pinching it gently by the thin strap.

There are no words exchanged. William withdraws his hand from Sherlock's collar, and Sherlock rises on his feet with a smile. His soft and long fingers don't shake in the slightest when he touches William's hair, brushing aside uneven bangs that were covering the scar of his eye. The scar is an ugly thing, a mess of tissue and discolored skin surrounding the hole where his eye should be, but they've never been one to flinch at the physical manifestations of the cruel trials of life. There is warmth oozing from this gesture, as quick as it is intense. The two of them are not people who are used to the touch of others, preferring the cold and grounding sensation of a weapon held in their hands. In spite of it, William closes his good eye.

It's permission as much as it is curiosity. How long will they keep doing this, allowing small acts of service and reveling in the peace they bring, without ever addressing the meaning behind them? William isn't one to let anyone stand so close to him, at a distance where any threat is invisible and any counter-attack is ill-timed. Sherlock could grab him by the sides of his head and hurt him, and William wouldn't be able to stop him. In another world, where their shared future is written in stone, it could have happened. They could have been facing each other like this, silent as a tomb, following the script of a justice punishing all criminals equally, one of them delivering it and the other accepting it.

But it isn't that harsh and implacable reality. In the world they live in, William feels the eyepatch placed over his eye, the two ends of the strap traveling behind his head to be tied together. Never once does he stop sensing the warmth of Sherlock and his hands. They are close enough they can hear each other's heartbeat; one second passes, then two, and then three, and Sherlock's fingers are still in William's hair. A careful and tender pressure, a steady touch he savors.

"I could do this with my eyes closed," Sherlock says quietly.

He slowly, slowly extracts his fingers from William's hair and lets one hand linger on his cheek. William opens his eye, already knowing what he'd find staring back at him. Sherlock has always been unable to hide his emotions, even in his touch.

"That's good to know," William replies just as calmly. "You can be my two eyes, as well."

"I'm anything you want me to be, anyway."

Sometimes, Sherlock's words are so honest they are hard to parse. Abrasive, frank and sincere—how did such a man end up with someone like William? He caught him, and he's not letting go.

"You are too trusting," William settles on saying.

Sherlock grins. "I trust you as much as you trust me, Liam. Don't forget that."

"That is assuming you know how far my trust in you extends."

"That's because I do know. You haven't left yet."

William chuckles. Bold words coming from a shameless person.

"I suppose I haven't, no," William agrees.

William lifts a hand, and in turn, he cards his fingers through Sherlock's hair, much longer than it was when they first met. He makes it more presentable, less wild, smoothly. Sherlock's eyes are locked on his, like he has nowhere else to look.

Small acts of service that punctuate their shared life, charged with significance they cherish without uttering a word.

"Finish breakfast and go retrieve your tie, Sherly. It's almost time for you to go," William tells him.

"Yeah, yeah, I'll do that. You should get ready too."

They came back to England and are continuing their fight. It leaves no room for hesitation.

William drops his hand. Sherlock does too and smiles at him, and if it were yet another universe, where he isn't a coward, William would have kissed him.

But not yet—this isn't the right time yet. The way they look after each other is enough, for now, and William will protect it, until they are ready.

[puckinginsane]

What Am I?

Jamie Benn one shot

Warningsish : Smuttyish language. A curse? I think just one. 

Words : 7.8K 

I really hope y’all like it. I worked really hard on this.

🎵 Tell me, have you seen a sunset Turn into a sunrise? Kiss right through the night? 'Cause we should try that sometime Hold you 'til the mornin' And if I said I'm fallin' Would you just reply "I know you are, but what am I?"🎵

I usually don't go to bars or clubs with the intent of picking up a guy. Sometimes it happens, but most of the time I'm there to have a good time with my friends and get a little tipsy. Not tonight. Tonight I am here to get drunk and to get laid. It's one of those nights where the only way I'm going to escape life for a while is to get hammered and make bad decisions. Lately life has given me one punch in the gut after the other so I need a win.

I've already spotted my target. I've been watching him on and off for the last 45 minutes. He's tall, tatted, handsome. Built like an ox but hasn't said much all night. The guys he's with have all the energy and he's the observer. We've locked eyes a few times throughout the night but he'd always just look away. I'm not sure it's me he even saw. It's a bit busy in here tonight.

I watch as his friends try to convince him to go to the club with them but he insists they go on without him. He's nursing the rest of his beer so if I'm going to make a move it's gotta be now. I push any thoughts of doubt out of my mind. I need to just go for it. No more waiting for something to happen. If I want it to happen I’m going to have to make it happen myself. And what I want is for him to take me home and make me forget all of my problems, something I thought the alcohol was going to do but it’s done a shitty job so far.

I sit on the open stool next to him and lean on my elbow on the bar. "You should have gone with them. They look like fun."

He looks at me with a raised eyebrow, intensity in his eyes, then just looks down at the bar and shakes his head. "I'm not interested in the fun they're looking for tonight."

I inch closer to him. "What kind of fun are you looking for? I'm looking for some fun myself." I place my hand delicately on his forearm, not sure of how he's going to react to it. He flexes under my touch but doesn't pull away. "Some anonymous fun just for tonight. To escape life for a while." I give him my best I want to fuck you eyes and hope he feels the same way about me. 

"I'm looking for the kind where I finish this beer and head home."

"That doesn't sound very fun at all, unless you're taking me with you."

"That is the fun I'm trying to avoid."

"Shame." I drink the last bit of my drink and call the bartender over. I'm not going to be taking no for an answer tonight and he's the one I want, I need, to take my mind off of everything. I order us a few rounds of shots. "You need something stronger." I hope he doesn't reject me. My experience with men is that most of the time they can't resist shots with an attractive woman, no matter how hard they want to fight it. 

To my surprise, he picks up the shot glass and looks me dead in the eyes as he takes it. Suddenly it's about fifty degrees hotter in here and I think you could hear my heart beating from across the bar. "Aren't you going to have yours?" He has a cheeky tone in his voice, knowing that my panties have disintegrated into nothing simply by the way he's looking at me.

I almost forgot. I can barely remember my own name as he continues to look at me with those eyes. "Of course." I take my shot while keeping eye contact with him, the same as he did with me. "Another?"

"Why do you want to escape so badly?"

"Rough week, month, year. I just wanna feel good tonight, for once." Does he really want to know? I want to skip the life stories and get right to being naked. 

He picks up a shot glass and hands it to me before picking one up for himself. "I hear that."

We do a few more shots and I'm trying to study him, but I can't get a read on him. I can't tell if this is going somewhere or if he just wants to get drunk with me and leave. He's not exactly flirting, but he's not rejecting my advances either. He's a bit mysterious how he sits there not saying much with his mouth, but saying everything with his eyes. He needs this as much as I do, whatever this turns out to be. I can tell.

“We can continue to do this or we can get out of here for some fun. I know you want fun. Why deny yourself? Let’s get out of here.”

He stares me down, pursing his lips together. Is he actually thinking or does he just want to watch me squirm? “One more drink then I’ll get us an Uber.”

“You’re serious?” I was almost expecting for him to turn me down again.

“I’m serious. You wore me down.”

“Don’t act like I’m forcing you.”

“You are.” The ends of his mouth curl up into a smirk.

He wants to act all innocent but he’s got a bad side to him and it comes through more and more as the night goes on. He’s not fooling me. We each have one more drink before closing out the tab and heading outside to wait for our Uber. I am still surprised that we are about to go back to his place. I’m not nervous. I thought I’d be nervous. I look up at him and he’s staring at his phone, jaw clenched. I can’t help thinking about all of the things I want to do with him. I can’t wait to kiss those pillowy lips of his. 

He leans in close to talk to me. “He’s almost here.” He awkwardly places his hand on my back, almost wrapping his arm around me but changing his mind halfway through. I feel him relax a few seconds later. The last thing I want is for him to feel awkward around me. The whole point of leaving together is to feel good and have some meaningless sex.

When we get in the car I lean up against him and to my surprise he doesn’t tense up when I do. It’s nice. The one thing I notice is that he is so warm. He must be nice to snuggle up against on a cold day. That is something I definitely should not be thinking about right now. This is going to be a one night stand. Anonymous sex. One and done. A no sleepover situation. The walk of shame. All of those cliché phrases that means I will never see him or think about him again.

The ride is quiet, but not awkward. The alcohol is really starting to hit me, now that we’ve left the bar. I can feel myself smiling like a dopey idiot. I’ve accomplished what I set out to do tonight. I just hope it’s worth it. I hope that it does help me escape the way I need it to.

“You’re quiet all of a sudden,” he mutters in my ear, sending chills down my spine, making me wish this guy would drive 50 miles per hour faster than he is right now.

“I’m good. You good?”

“I’m great.”

I breathe a sigh of relief. “Good.” 

For some reason this doesn’t feel like I’m about to go home with some random guy and have sloppy drunk sex. My limited experience has been that we are all over each other from the bar to wherever we’re going. Kissing, touching, flirting. There’s really been none of that here. I wonder if I’m making a mistake, that I was too eager, that I’m going to be left wanting more.

I quickly learn that not only are we not on the same page, but that he’s also full of surprises when the car pulls up to Top Golf and stops, not his house, where I thought we were going. We get out of the car. I can’t believe I thought he was taking me home with him. I should have known. I should have listened to my instincts. Maybe I should have been more specific.

“You know this isn’t the kind of fun I was talking about, right?”

“It’s not?”

I have no idea if he’s being serious or if he’s messing with me. “No. It’s not.”

“Oops. We might as well go in, we’re here.”

“This is really what you want to do?”

“You want fun. This is fun.”

“If you say so.”

He places both hands on my shoulders. “I promise you’ll have a good time.”

"Allriiiiiight. I'm counting on you."

"Mini golf or driving range?"

I can't believe he's serious. "I'm feeling adventurous tonight so driving range. I've never done it before."

He grins. "This should be interesting."

We head inside, choose a bay, order drinks and food, and get started on whatever is happening right now. At this point I'm just going with the flow.

He sits down in front of the scoring screen. "We have to put our names in for the scoring. What's yours? I'll put them in."

"This is supposed to be anonymous fun."

He rolls his eyes. "Fine. Nicknames?"

"Perfect."

"What should I put for you?"

"My friends call me Bunny."

"That's cute. Bunny it is."

I watch as he enters my name, then his. "Why are you Chubbs?"

"Just a nickname that stuck. Why are you Bunny?"

"Because I have endless energy. I go go go."

He raises an eyebrow and looks back over his shoulder at me. "Not other reasons?"

I smile. “There might be.”

He smirks before standing up. “The clubs are over there. We each are going to get ten turns to hit the targets. The harder the target, the more points you get.”

“Wait. Hold up. I thought I was just gonna be hitting a bunch of balls. There’s points involved?”

“Yeah. It’s a game. It’s just for fun, though.”

“Alright.”

“You take your club, wave it over here like this, and a ball will pop out.” He shrugs. “Then you just hit it. Don’t let go of the club, though.”

“I won’t. What do you think I am?”

He gets all in my face. “Drunk.” He belly laughs and I can’t help laughing too. “Do you want me to show you how to hold the club, how to swing well?”

“As tempting as that offer is I think I can handle it. Thank you.” I start to step up to take my turn, but then look back at him. “If you get that close to me, touch me, then golf is the last thing I’m going to want to do.”

"Don't you wanna go hard and deep, though?" Putting purposeful emphasis on hard and deep, obviously to drive me crazy..

Unexpected. I almost drop my club “Ok, yeah, let’s just get out of here.”

“Go. Hit the ball. It’ll make you feel better.”

He's actually torturing me now. And enjoying it. How can he flirt like that and act like it's nothing? I normally hate games, but I like this game he's playing. One look from him and I am a puddle of goo. Each word out of his mouth is carefully selected and has a purpose. He knows exactly what he's doing and it only makes me want him more.

The waitress comes over and drops off our drinks and food so I take a long sip of my drink before going back to the tee to take my shot. I try to focus on the ball as I can feel his eyes burning a hole in me. I don’t dare look at him because I will lose my concentration. I’ve only ever played mini golf and never actually driven a ball before so this should be interesting. I will be happy with any kind of contact with the ball.

I’ve seen this done a billion times, ok maybe not that much, but enough for it not to be impossible to do. Sure, I’m feeling a little loose but it’s not like I’m trying to perform brain surgery. All I have to do is hit the ball out there somewhere. I grip the club the way I think I should and I swing back and hit the ball. It is not graceful and I barely touch it and the ball weakly goes off to the side. How embarrassing.

He stands up and walks towards me. "What was that?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. Not everyone can be professional golfers like you apparently are."

"I'm not, but my two year old niece has a better swing than that."

"I'm in heels and I'm drunk."

"Excuses. I’m drunk too."

"I don't know you well enough to have to take this abuse from you, you know."

"You should take your heels off "

"If you wanted me to get undressed, you should have just taken me back to your place."

“It’ll be way easier but go ahead and be stubborn if you want.”

I take my heels off and my feet feel a hundred percent better. I also feel significantly shorter standing in front of him now. "Now I can be Tiger Woods."

He laughs. "I wouldn't go that far. At least better than a two year old I hope."

“Let’s see what you got, Chubbs.” I sit down and lean back on the couch and watch as he grabs a club and steps up to the machine. He is one beautiful sight of a man. 

“Watch closely.”

“Believe me, I am, there is nothing that could make me take my eyes off of you.”

He bashfully smiles and looks at the ground before moving his ball to where he wants it. He explains to me how and why he grips the club the way that he is, tells me the proper way to swing the club, what to do with my hips, everything I need to know to do better in my next turn. He hits the ball and looks way more graceful than I did. There’s a satisfying tink sound when the club hits the ball. It lands close to the target but doesn’t hit it. He mutters under his breath at himself. How could he be angry at that? To me it looked perfect. He turns towards me. “You think you got it now?” 

“I think so.”

I feel a lot more sturdy without my heels on. I am feeling more confident in myself this time. I am going to crush this ball. I try to remember everything he was saying to me but it was hard to concentrate on the words when there are so many other things to focus on. His perfectly kissable lips, those dark brown eyes that I just can't get enough of, the nicest ass I've ever seen on a man or a woman. I could go on. I take a swing and this time I can feel the contact with the ball. It goes flying and I jump up and down. "I did it! I did it!" I could not be more proud of myself.

He darts up from the chair. "That was great! Way to go, Bunny!" He holds his hand up for a high five and I smack it. "Felt good, didn't it?" He hugs me.

"Felt really good." I look up at him smiling and he's looking down at me. "This feels good too."

He smiles and licks his lower lip. "You're gonna be harder competition than I thought."

“You said it’s just for fun.”

“Mhmm. Winning is fun.” He nudges me a few times with the cutest smile on his face. I can’t help giggling. I love that he’s starting to let go and be happy. He looked so sad in the bar and here he seems to be in his element.

I pick up the menu. “I’m going to order myself a drink. Want one?”

“Don’t you think you should go easy on the drinks?”

“I’ll be fiiiiiine. It’ll just be one. Maybe two. Want one? Oh my god orange dream sounds amazing. I’m ordering two and you can have one if you want.”

He grins. “We’ll see.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll pay for them.”

“Nonsense. Order whatever you want. I got it.”

“You sure? I don’t mind. I’m not trying to play games or anything.”

“I’m sure. I wanted to come here and I’d never let a woman pay. It was nice of you to offer, though.”

“Ok. If you change your mind let me know.”

He steps up to his ball and hits it so, so far. “I won’t.” He smiles. “Your turn.”

I get up and grab my club. "If the waitress comes by can you order those two orange dreams for me?"

"Yeah. I can. Still think you should go easy."

"They water the drinks down at these places. I'll be fine. It's cute that you're so worried, though.”

“You’re cute.” He says it low and bashful and has made himself blush, but he has the most adorable smile on his face that he couldn’t fight even though he is trying his hardest.

I think I’m blushing too. I wasn’t expecting that. I wasn’t sure he was even into me. “Thanks.” I can’t fight this dumb smile on my face either. He’s got me all flustered now. The first time I swing at the ball I miss it entirely. “Fuck!” I look back to see that he’s busy ordering from the waitress and didn’t see my epic fail so I play it off and go again like it was my first time. I try to concentrate on the ball but I can’t help looking back and watching him. He’s so damn attractive that it hurts not to be close to him. I actually connect with my second attempt and I actually hit one of the targets. I wasn’t even trying. “I hit it! Did you see? I hit the target!”

He looks up on the screen and sees the score. “Sweet! I saw! I ordered drinks and some more food. Are you cool with nachos and chips and guac?”

“I am very ok with those things. Thank you.”

He walks very close to me on the way to take his shot and stops while he’s right next to me and leans down. “I saw you miss, by the way.” 

“Maybe I need you to show me how to swing after all.”

“I thought you couldn’t handle it.” He’s still talking directly into my ear, which is making me weak in the knees.

“I want it anyway.”

“Too bad it’s my turn.” He leans against me for a second before walking away. I watch that perfect ass walk all the way to the tee. I’ve decided that watching him play is way more fun than getting up there and making a fool out of myself every time.

I step up to take my turn. “I’d like that help now, if you’re still offering.”

He smiles. “Yeah, I’m still offering.” He starts to position himself behind me and just as he is about to get right up against me and hold onto my hands his phone rings. He mutters several curses under his breath and steps back. “It’s my brother. I gotta take this. I won’t be long. Just go ahead and take your turn.”

I sigh. Of course his brother would call. He was close enough for me to feel the heat off of his body and the anticipation of his hands on me has gotten my heart racing. I don’t want to go. I want to wait, but I don’t want to seem desperate so I take my turn and it’s ok. I am not going to be a golf master any time soon.

He ends his phone call rather quickly, but not before our food and drinks get brought to us. I sit down and wait for him to join me before digging in. "Sorry about that."

"Don't be. Family's important."

He nods. "Yeah. Very."

"Is….. everything ok?"

"Yup. He just got out of work and wanted to talk. I'll catch up with him later."

"Or tomorrow."

He blushes. "We'll see."

We eat our food and have our drinks before he takes his next shot. For this being an anonymous night we sure are learning a lot about each other and having great conversation. No names, though, we have both agreed that it would be more fun that way. We are going to stick with Bunny and Chubbs. I am having one of the best nights of my life. This has been so unexpected and fun and taking my mind off of everything that’s been getting me down lately. Chubbs might just be my new hero.

“I was wrong about those drinks, they were not as watered down as I thought they’d be. I’m cool, though. Ice cold.”

He chuckles. “Is that so?”

“It’s soooo so.”

“Alright then, ice queen, I believe it’s my turn.”

“Kick that ball’s ass, Chubbs!”

“I will. Just for you, Bunny.”

I get all giddy when he says my name, well, my nickname. I’ll never look at it the same way again. My friends call me it as a goof almost, but to him that’s who I am. I didn’t think I could have this much fun with a stranger. Talking with him at the bar, I would have never thought this is how my night would end up. I really thought I was going to be leaving alone. He has a cocky swagger as he walks up to take his turn. He looks back at me before he goes, perhaps to make sure that I’m watching him.

I never thought I would ever have this much fun doing anything golf related. I am going to have to come back here with my friends. Chubbs and I continue on with our game and of course he gets more points than me. That was never a question. Golf is obviously something he loves and this was my first time and it doesn’t help that I’m drunk. I wonder if I would do any better while sober. I’ll have to find out at some point.

As our number of rounds start to wind down I start to wonder what comes next. I want to keep hanging out with him. My initial intentions are still there, maybe even stronger than before. I wonder if he will want to continue the night or just go home. We have been flirting the whole time, but I still can’t get a great read on him when it comes to his intentions.

He shakes my hand. “Good game.” He looks at the floor and then all around. “There’s other things we can do here if you want.” 

I smile. He wants to keep hanging out, that’s a good sign. I really want to get him alone, though. “Did you wanna get out of here? We can go to my place or your place...if that’s something you want to do.”

“Your place is good.”

My whole face lights up. I was kind of expecting him to turn me down. “It is?”

“Yeah.” 

I immediately take my phone out and open Uber to get us a ride to my place. “We should wait outside.”

“In a hurry?” he asks in that asmused at himself tone that I’ve gotten used to. He loves to tease. It’s annoying how much I like it.

“Maybe a little.” I start to walk away.

“You’re gonna leave your shoes here?”

I stop and turn around. He has the biggest grin on his face. I am so happy I amuse him so much. “Oops.” I put them back on. “Now we can go.” He is close behind me, not touching, but close enough that it feels like he is.

It feels as if life is going in slow motion as I watch the little car on the Uber app inch through the map on its way to us. I wasn’t sure this moment was actually going to happen and I really don’t want to give him time to change his mind. No matter what happens when we get to my place doesn’t matter anymore. I just don’t want this night to end. I’m not ready to say goodbye forever to him just yet.

“You’re impatient.” I can hear the amusement in his voice as he looks over my shoulder at my screen.

“I always watch the map.”

“You like to be in control.”

I shrug. “Depends.”

He leans in close. “I do.”

I feel that in all of the right places and it takes everything in me not to jump on him right here and now. “Where is this fucking car?” 

He points at my screen. “Right there.” I look at him in almost disbelief. Who is this man and why is he drawing me in like this? His shoulders shake as he chuckles to himself.

I bite my lower lip. He’s charming without even trying. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to kiss anyone so badly in my entire life. The car pulls up in front of us. “And here it is.”

The vibe in this Uber is way different than the vibe in the Uber on the way here. I can tell he wants me. His body language is the polar opposite. On the way here he was so tense and standoffish, now he is more relaxed and he couldn’t be closer to me. Our legs rub up against each other and I smile. Any contact with him sends electricity through my veins. He very confidently places his hand on my thigh and leaves it there. He wouldn't dare think about touching me on the way here. I rub his hand with mine, then move it back to my lap.

I continue to watch the map as we get on our way, purely out of habit. “Should be there in about fifteen minutes,” I mutter to him, as if I don’t want the driver to hear me. I have no idea why. It’s not like he doesn’t know. I rest my head on his arm. I guess I’m feeling more comfortable too, no longer worried about scaring him away. He agreed to come home with me and we both know where this is headed. I feel the weight of his head on mine and can't help smiling. It's been entirely too long since I've been this close to anyone. It feels nice. It doesn't matter that I don't know his name, this is exactly what I needed.

When we get up to my door I have a bit of a difficult time finding my keys in my purse. I can feel his eyes burning a hole in the side of my face as I continue to struggle. I finally grab them and fumble with them as I try to get my key in the lock.

He chuckles. “Are you sure you live here?”

“Yes I live here. I’m just…” I finally get the key in the keyhole.

“Drunk.”

“I got it in, didn’t I?” I open the door and we step in. “Here we are.”

He looks around. “This is nice. Bigger than I thought it would be.”

“It’s a great space. I lucked out on getting it. There were a few people interested. Do you want the grand tour?”

“Sure.”

I take him all around my place, unsure if he actually wants to know about any of this stuff. I walk through as fast as I can so I don’t bore him to death. Of course I save my bedroom for the end of the tour, that’s the most important room.

"This is my bedroom, ya know, where the magic happens."

"Magic, eh? Full of yourself."

"I practice my card tricks in here. What are youuuuu referring to?"

"You can do card tricks? Show me."

I laugh entirely too hard. Of course he called me on my bluff. "I can't! I don't know any." I go into a fit of giggles. “I was just joking. Ever hear of one?”

He smiles. "You're so drunk."

"Takes one to know one, bud." I poke his chest and he watches my finger as I do it. “Besides, I’m not that drunk anymore.”

“Still pretty drunk.”

“I blame all of those extra Top Golf drinks.”

“You mean the ones I told you to go easy on?”

“Mhmm. Yup. Those would be the ones.”

He takes a quick look around. “Cozy.”

“Maybe you’ll find out just how cozy later.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Later?”

“Yeah, I saved the best for last. Wanna see the roof?”

“You’re not going to push me off, are you?”

I laugh. “Nah. Too messy.”

The rooftop terrace is the main reason why I bought this condo. Situations like this is why I wanted a rooftop terrace. I bring a good looking guy home and get to say the line, wanna go up to the roof? And the roof is actually the best part of the whole place. It’s private, cozy, romantic, and all mine. I keep telling myself I am going to start a garden up here, but it’s probably never going to happen.

“I only moved in a month ago so I haven’t finished decorating up here.” Right now all I have is seating and a few tables. Some are single seats and some can seat two or more people.

“You should put an outdoor chess table over there.”

“A chess table? On no. You’re a nerd, aren’t you? I brought a nerd home with me. What have I done? How did this happen?”

"Takes one to know one." He smiles, so proud of himself.

“Ha. Ha. Ha. So funny. A game isn’t a bad idea, but not chess.” We sit down on one of the couches. For outdoor furniture, it is pretty comfortable.

“This is pretty nice. Do you spend a lot of time up here?”

“Yeah, most of my time. I love being outside and I could do a lot of things on my iPad. I want to get a fire pit, I just haven’t decided on which one yet. It’s gonna be awesome.”

“If you can’t have a backyard this is the next best thing, for sure.”

"Yeah. I want a house eventually, but this will do for now. I love it."

Something in the corner catches his eye and I follow his eyes to try to figure out what he's so fascinated with. "What's in there?"

I finally realize he's looking at the cabinet. "Oh! Come with me. I'll show you." I love showing off everything I've bought for up here. I think my friends are a little sick of it so I'm glad I have someone new to show. I open the cabinet to reveal all of the goodies I have stored in there. "I may have gone a little crazy. There's the hammock. I don't like to have it out all of the time since it takes up so much room. I have extra blankets and pillows for when I wanna get snuggled up out here so I don't have to go back inside to get any."

"Smart."

"Thank you. I have these little heaters for when it gets cold, and I plan to get one of those tall ones eventually. A broom and some other boring stuff and that's about it."

"Looks like you're prepared for any situation."

"I try to be. It's also a bit of laziness because once I'm out here I don't want to have to go in and out to get stuff."

"And yet you don't have a fridge or cooler out here."

"It's a work in progress. It's on the list, believe me. I still have a lot of plans for this place. It’s my chance at a fresh start.”

“Seems like a good place to start to me.”

I nod. “I hope so.”

"So, who are you trying to forget tonight?"

"I never said it was a who."

"It's always a who."

"Who is your who then?"

He shakes his head. "Mmmno. I asked you first."

"It's a lot of different things, not just a guy."

"But there is a guy."

"Was a guy. What about you?"

"No guy for me."

"Who's the girl, smartass?"

"I never said I was trying to forget anyone."

"But you are. That's why you're here."

"I'm here because you're persistent."

"Is that all?"

"That's all."

I could bring up the fact he has a tattoo on his bicep that's a heart with KT in the middle, but I don't want to scare him off. He obviously doesn't want to talk about it. I've made it this far, it's better to just drop it and move on.

I take a deep breath. "We were in bed one night. Nothing crazy or unusual. We were just on our phones, about to go to sleep. He turns to me and says 'remember when we were happy?' which confused the hell out of me because I thought we were happy. I thought things were perfect. Looking back on it now I know they weren't perfect but they seemed like it at the time. I was happy, though. I didn't need perfect. I just needed us. I still...I miss him?" I figure if I open up maybe he will too.

"You don't sound sure."

"Maybe I just miss what we had. That's never coming back whether we're together or not. He wasn't happy and there was nothing I could do to change that."

"And you think tonight is gonna help."

"It has already."

He grins. "Told you."

"You know what? I'm tired of your smug and cocky attitude."

"No you're not."

"Yes I am." I go to playfully push him but he grabs my wrists and stops me.

"You're blushing." I try to pull away but he's got a good grip on me. Not hurting me, but way stronger than I am. "Not so fast."

I'm too drunk to even attempt to hide the giddy smile on my face. He smiles back at me with those dimples and crinkle eyes that I've been falling for all night. "It'll be way more fun if you let go."

He hesitates but then slowly lets go and I try to tickle him but he stops me again. "What are you doing?" He's amused. He continues smiling and stumbles a bit.

I laugh as I try to hold him up, as if I'm doing anything. If he were to actually fall we'd both be on the floor. "You ok there, wobbles?"

He looks me in the eyes and sways a little bit. "Fine."

"Are you gonna tell me about your who?"

He shakes his head. "No." He runs his fingers through my hair. We haven't broken eye contact this whole time. All I want is for him to kiss me, although I could look into his eyes all night and be perfectly fine with that.

He slowly leans in and kisses me. I'm a little in shock at first. I was beginning to think it wasn't going to happen. He holds onto the back of my head and I kiss him back. I never want it to end. We deepen the kiss and it becomes more passionate. It’s very intimate for two people who just met, who don’t even know each other’s names. We become more and more desperate for each other and our hands begin to wander and explore each other’s bodies.

He runs his hands up and down my back, his fingertips just graze my ass and start to wander back up. I almost whimper and his hands stray further and further away from my ass. I want him to grab it, push me up against a wall, and have his way with me. I slip my hands under his shirt to touch the skin on his back. I am craving skin contact and need to touch more. He’s taking his time with his hands exploring my body and normally I would get impatient and want to get right to the action, but kissing him and feeling his hands all over me is a new form of heaven I didn’t know existed.

He finally caresses my ass as he moves from my lips to my neck and I swear my pants evaporate from the heat my body is generating. His hands mirror mine and go under my shirt and it’s electricity through my veins when he makes contact. I kiss around his ear. “Just take it off,” I say, almost in a whisper, in his ear.

He kisses up my neck and to my ear as he messes with my bra. I’d be impressed if he could unclasp it like this. “Can people see us?”

“I don’t know, but we can go inside if you want.” His ass has been calling my name all night so I take this opportunity to grab it and it’s so much nicer than I thought. I don’t move my hands, I am going to be touching this all damn night.

He makes a noise in my ear and nibbles on my earlobe. It seems as if he’s enjoying it as much as I am. “Yes. Inside. Now.” 

I smile and kiss him nice and long before grabbing his hand and taking him inside. Somehow he had gotten my bra unclasped so I take it off from under my shirt and leave it on the chair in my office, which is what leads out to the roof. Before we get any further he stops us, holds onto my hips, and kisses me. His lips are perfect and I wish I could kiss him all night. I know I’m drunk so I’m trying not to be a drunken, sloppy mess about it. I want him to want to kiss me all night as well.

We get to my bedroom and he kicks his sneakers off right away, then he takes his hat off and places it on my dresser. His hair flops down into his face and he runs his fingers through it to push it back on his head and out of his eyes. How have I spent all of this time with him and not known that he has the greatest hair known to man. It’s like porn. It just falls right back into his face. I run my fingers through it for him this time and he smiles as he leans down to kiss me again. He hovers in front of my lips, just out of reach, and rubs his nose along mine. The tease. I palm him through his jeans and he bucks his hips towards my hand. I don’t mind taking our time, but I am not going to be teased. I fucking want him and want him right now. 

When I set out tonight I was hoping to have some sloppy, drunk, meaningless sex. I did not expect to meet a guy, go out on a date, take him back to my place, and have some of the best sex of my life but that is exactly what has happened. I thought it needed to be anonymous and a one night thing and I’d never have to see him again, but how can I let this guy walk out of my life forever after tonight? I can’t. I have a feeling he feels the same way. I hope he does anyway. As we lie in my bed catching our breath I wonder if these same thoughts are going through his head. It’s still so hard to read him. All I know is that he definitely had as good of a time as I did. 

"You should stay. There’s a great view of the sunrise from the roof." This is going against everything I thought tonight was going to be, not like the rest of it has gone to plan. I don't even know what's happening anymore. "Unless you have somewhere to be in the morning."

"Nowhere to be. I can stay." His voice is soft. I don't think he's believing tonight was real either.

“I can get a blanket from the cabinet. They’re nice and fluffy.”

“Do you want to go back up there now? It’s a nice night.”

“Are you sick of seeing me naked already? Alright, I get the hint.” I nudge him and laugh. We probably should get out of bed, though, I don’t want to get too used to him being here.

He laughs and nudges me back. “If we stay here longer I’ll wind up falling asleep and I’ll miss it.”

“You’re right.” I sit up and he runs his hand up and down my back. I can’t help smiling. “I’m gonna put sweats and a shirt on if that’s ok with you.”

“Whatever you want.”

We clean ourselves up in my bathroom before getting dressed. I grab some water from my fridge before we head outside just in case we get thirsty. It’s the perfect night to stay up and watch the sunrise. It’s not too cold, there really isn’t any kind of breeze even. The sky is clear so if I didn’t live in the middle of a big city I bet we’d see a sky full of stars. He sits on the couch and I get a blanket from the cabinet. I hate to admit that I am really looking forward to snuggling with him. I sit next to him and we get all cuddled up under the blanket.

We talk a little bit about my other plans for the deck and he tells me about his first apartment he lived in when he moved to Dallas. I love talking to him, nothing is awkward. The conversation is flowing and I feel like we have a nice connection. No matter what happens after he leaves tonight, this has been pretty special. We might also be doing a little bit of kissing in between talking and that doesn’t hurt either.

“I do have a who.” We hadn’t spoken in a few minutes but it wasn’t an awkward silence. It was a silence that let us enjoy the night sky and gave us time to think about what’s gone on tonight so far.

“You don’t have to tell me.”

“It’s ok. I want to.” He sighs and pulls me closer to him and mindlessly traces circles on my arm. “We were starting to grow apart. We had our own careers, our own goals. We did the long distance thing for a while but it wasn’t working out so we took a break. I think it hit me way harder than it hit her and I probably should have taken that as a sign that it was time to move on, but I didn’t. We tried again but it just wasn’t the same. It was hard to admit but it just wasn’t working anymore.”

“That sucks. You think you’re with the person you’re going to spend the rest of your life with and then you gotta start all over again.”

“I wasn’t looking to just yet. I don’t know what I want right now.”

“You don’t have to know yet.”

“I know.”

“I don’t know what I want either. Tonight was not something I regularly do.”

“Same goes for me.”

“The one night stand part or the taking a random stranger on a date part?”

He grins, showing those irresistible dimples. “Both.”

“Well, it was a pretty great night, so thank you.”

“You came up to me and wouldn’t give up so I should be thanking you too.”

“You thanked me a few times already.”

He blushes and buries his face in my hair. “That was fun.”

“I told you.” 

He belly laughs and pulls my head to rest on his shoulder. We still have a little while until the sun rises but we find ways to occupy ourselves until then. When I first saw this rooftop deck this is exactly what I imagined I’d be doing on it, I just never thought it would actually come true. I couldn’t have asked for a better night escaping all of my problems. I know they’ll be there to deal with tomorrow, but it was great to escape them for one night. I hope I helped him escape for a little while too. 

By the time the sun starts to rise we are both sober and struggling to stay awake, but we manage to see the whole thing and it does not disappoint. The sky is covered with yellow and orange as the sun says good morning. I am happy I asked him to stay and that he agreed to. I always feel that when I start my day off with a beautiful sunrise, that it’s going to be a good day. I would normally take a picture of it, but I’m too busy watching him be in awe. I never knew that when I bought this place that I would have the best view in the city.

I sigh, knowing that he’s probably going to be leaving soon and not knowing what the future holds for us. I could offer to make breakfast. He said he didn’t have anywhere to be today. I think I’m too tired to move, though. We do have to sleep at some point. I could ask him to come back inside and sleep the day away with me but I think that’s a little too ambitious. I try to study his face and get some kind of idea what he’s thinking. I see joy in his eyes so maybe there’s a chance.

He looks at me smiling. “This is amazing. I’m glad I stayed.”

“Me too.”

“I don’t want to overstay my welcome. I am exhausted and should probably go home and get some sleep.”

My heart sinks a little. “I’d offer to drive you but I’d never make it back. I’m pretty tired myself.”

“I’ll take an Uber.”

We stand up and I fold up my blanket and put it back in the cabinet. “I’ll walk you to the door.”

“Thanks.”

We make it to the door and I decide that I’m going to let this be what it was supposed to be, a one night thing. Although, it’s pretty much killing me that I don’t even know his name. I should not have made that stupid rule. He hugs me before opening the door. I hug him back and don’t want to let go, but I know I have to so I do. 

It’s a struggle to keep my eyes open at this point but I look up at him just to get one last look before he goes. “I know we agreed no names, but I would really like to know yours.”

He shrugs. “That’s what next time is for.”

[mytwilightimagines13]

Amnesia (Book Two)(Part Ten)(Alec Volturi)

The Trial

As the pause lengthened, Edward's breath speed up. "Edward?" Carlisle asked, low and anxious. ‘'They're not sure how to proceed. They're weighing options, choosing key targets - me, of course, you, Eleazar, Tanya. Marcus is reading the strength of our ties to each other, looking for weak points. The Romanians' presence irritates them. They're worried about the faces they don't recognize - Zafrina and Senna in particular - and the wolves, naturally. He is debating whether Maeryn’s gift could break Bella’s shield, or atleast crack it enough for Alec and Jane’s gift to slip through, just as it did with Renate’s shield.” A few gasps filled the air and they looked at Bella, who also looked concerned. “ However, they've never been outnumbered before. That's what stopped them." "Outnumbered?" Tanya whispered incredulously. "They don't count their witnesses," Edward breathed. "They are nonentities, meaningless to the guard. Aro just enjoys an audience." "Should I speak?" Carlisle asked. Edward hesitated, then nodded. "This is the only chance you'll get." Carlisle squared his shoulders and paced several steps ahead of our defensive line. He spread his arms, holding his palms up as if in greeting. "Aro, my old friend. It's been centuries." The white clearing was dead silent for a long moment. The strain mounted as the seconds ticked by. And then Aro stepped forward out of the center of the Volturi formation. Renate moved with him as if the tips of her fingers were sewn to his robe. For the first time, the Volturi ranks reacted. A muttered grumble rolled through the line, eyebrows lowered into scowls, lips curled back from teeth. Even Maeryn felt her lips curl back from her teeth, however, Alec squeezed her hand and pulled her slightly closer to him, calming her down. A few of the guard leaned forward into a crouch. Aro held one hand up toward them. "Peace." He walked just a few paces more, then cocked his head to one side. His milky eyes glinted with curiosity. "Fair words, Carlisle," he breathed in his thin, wispy voice. "They seem out of place, considering the army you've assembled to kill me, and to kill my dear ones." Carlisle shook his head and stretched his right hand forward as if there were not still almost a hundred yards between them. "You have but to touch my hand to know that was never my intent." Aro's shrewd eyes narrowed. "But how can your intent possibly matter, dear Carlisle, in the face of what you have done?" He frowned, and a shadow of sadness crossed his features - whether it was genuine or not, I could not tell. "I have not committed the crime you are here to punish me for." "Then step aside and let us punish those responsible. Truly, Carlisle, nothing would please me more than to preserve your life today." "No one has broken the law, Aro. Let me explain." Again, Carlisle offered his hand. Before Aro could answer, Caius drifted swiftly forward to Aro's side. "So many pointless rules, so many unnecessary laws you create for yourself, Carlisle," the white-haired ancient hissed. "How is it possible that you defend the breaking of one that truly matters?" Maeryn agreed, who did they think they were anyway? "The law is not broken. If you would listen - " "We see the child, Carlisle," Caius snarled. "Do not treat us as fools." "She is not an immortal. She is not a vampire. I can easily prove this with just a few moments - " Caius cut him off. "If she is not one of the forbidden, then why have you massed a battalion to protect her?" "Witnesses, Caius, just as you have brought." Carlisle gestured to the angry horde at the edge of the woods; some of them growled in response. "Any one of these friends can tell you the truth about the child. Or you could just look at her, Caius. See the flush of human blood in her cheeks." "Artifice!" Caius snapped. "Where is the informer? Let her come forward!" He craned his neck around until he spotted Irina lingering behind the wives. "You! Come!" Irina stared at him uncomprehendingly, her face like that of someone who has not entirely awakened from a hideous nightmare.

Impatiently, Caius snapped his fingers. One of the wives' huge bodyguards moved to Irina's side and prodded her roughly in the back. Irina blinked twice and then walked slowly toward Caius in a daze. She stopped several yards short, her eyes still on her sisters. Caius closed the distance between them and slapped her across the face. It couldn't have hurt, but there was something terribly degrading about the action. It was like watching someone kick a dog. Tanya and Kate hissed in synchronization. Irina's body went rigid and her eyes finally focused on Caius. He pointed one clawed finger at Renesmee, where she clung to Bella’s back, her fingers still tangled in the wolf’s fur. A growl rumbled through its chest. "This is the child you saw?" Caius demanded. "The one that was obviously more than human?" Irina peered at the foes, examining Renesmee for the first time since entering the clearing. Her head tilted to the side, confusion crossed her features. "Well?" Caius snarled. "I... I'm not sure," she said, her tone perplexed. Caius's hand twitched as if he wanted to slap her again. "What do you mean?" he said in a steely whisper. "She's not the same, but I think it's the same child. What I mean is, she's changed. This child is bigger than the one I saw, but - " Caius's furious gasp crackled through his suddenly bared teeth, and Irina broke off without finishing. Aro flitted to Caius's side and put a restraining hand on his shoulder. "Be composed, brother. We have time to sort this out. No need to be hasty." With a sullen expression, Caius turned his back on Irina. "Now, sweetling," Aro said in a warm, sugary murmur. "Show me what you're trying to say." He held his hand out to the bewildered vampire. Uncertainly, Irina took his hand. He held hers for only five seconds. "You see, Caius?" he said. "It's a simple matter to get what we need." Caius didn't answer him. From the corner of his eye, Aro glanced once at his audience, his mob, and then turned back to Carlisle. "And so we have a mystery on our hands, it seems. It would appear the child has grown. Yet Irina's first memory was clearly that of an immortal child. Curious." "That's exactly what I'm trying to explain," Carlisle said, and from the change in his voice, Maeryn could guess at his relief. This was the pause they had pinned all their precious hopes on. However, it was pathetic to even begin with. Carlisle held out his hand again. Aro hesitated for a moment. "I would rather have the explanation from someone more central to the story, my friend. Am I wrong to assume that this breach was not of your making?" "There was no breach." "Be that as it may, I will have every facet of the truth." Aro's feathery voice hardened. "And the best way to get that is to have the evidence directly from your talented son." He inclined his head in Edward's direction. "As the child clings to his newborn mate, I'm assuming Edward is involved." Edward turned to quickly kiss Bella’s forehead and Renesmee's, not meeting her eyes. Then he strode across the snowy field, clapping Carlisle on the shoulder as he passed. A low whimper cloud be heard from behind the first row of foes - Esme's terror breaking through. Good. Be afraid. They all should be. Jane smiled as Edward crossed the midpoint in the distance between the two sides, when he was closer to the Volturi than he was to the foes. That smug little smile did it for Bella. Her fury peaked and her muscles tightened, and she acted automatically. She threw her shield with all the force in her mind, flung it across the impossible expanse of the field like a javelin. Her breath rushed out in a huff with the exertion. The shield blew out from her in a bubble of sheer energy, a mushroom cloud of liquid steel. It pulsed like a living thing. This was the moment Maeryn had waited for. Alec squeezed her hand one more time before releasing it, letting her use her power. Maeryn removed her hands from under her dark, grey cloak  and she concentrated on the barely visible bubble Bella was creating, trying to protect Edward. Maeryn slowly closed

her hand, feeling her gift sifting through her fingers. Her shield was strong, but slowly small cracks started to form, yet it took all that Maeryn had to keep these cracks open. Bella looked worried, but soon that look of worry turned into a glare. Jane had also noticed the cracks and tried to use her gift on Bella. A frustrating growl escaped her lips and Maeryn knew why. Bella had a second shield, a shield Maeryn couldn’t break. At least not yet. Maeryn dropped her hands and the shield repaired itself, though it was weaker than before. Barely a second had passed. Edward was still walking to Aro. Edward stopped a few steps away from Aro, Edward's chin came up arrogantly, and he held his hand out to Aro as if he were conferring a great honor.  Maeryn growled lowly, warning him. However, Aro seemed only delighted with his attitude, but his delight was not universal. Renate fluttered nervously in Aro’s shadow. Caius's scowl was so deep it looked like his papery, translucent skin would crease permanently. Little Jane showed her teeth, and beside her Alec's eyes narrowed in concentration. Maeryn growled lowly, warning him. They all were ready to act at a second's notice. Aro closed the distance without pause - and really, what did he have to fear? The hulking shadows of the lighter gray cloaks - the brawny fighters like Felix - were but a few yards away. Jane and her burning gift could throw Edward on the ground, writhing in agony. Alec could blind and deafen him before he could take a step in Aro's direction. And Maeryn could turn him to dust in a matter of seconds. Making it look like he had never existed at all. And ontop of that, she had just found out she was able to crack Bella’s shield, allowing at least Alec’s gift to slip through. With an untroubled smile, Aro took Edward's hand. His eyes snapped shut at once, and then his shoulders hunched under the onslaught of information. Every secret thought, every strategy, every insight - everything Edward had heard in the minds around him during the last month - was now Aro's. Bella hissed with frustration, and the shield roiled with her irritation, shifting its shape and contracting around their side. "Easy, Bella," Zafrina whispered to her. Aro continued to concentrate on Edward's memories. Edward's head bowed, too, the muscles in his neck locking tight as he read back again everything that Aro took from him, and Aro's response to it all. This two-way but unequal conversation continued long enough that even the guard grew uneasy. Low murmurs ran through the line until Caius barked a sharp order for silence. Jane was edging forward like she couldn't help herself, and Renata's face was rigid with distress. Aro straightened, his eyes flashing open, their expression awed and wary. He did not release Edward's hand. Edward's muscles loosened ever so slightly. "You see?" Edward asked, his velvet voice calm. "Yes, I see, indeed," Aro agreed, and amazingly, he sounded almost amused. "I doubt whether any two among gods or mortals have ever seen quite so clearly." The disciplined faces of the guard showed disbelief. "You have given me much to ponder, young friend," Aro continued. "Much more than I expected." Still he did not release Edward's hand, and Edward's tense stance was that of one who listens. Edward didn't answer. "May I meet her?" Aro asked - almost pleaded - with sudden eager interest. "I never dreamed of the existence of such a thing in all my centuries. What an addition to our histories!" "What is this about, Aro?" Caius snapped before Edward could answer. Maeryn felt the same. She was curious, but she was even more bloodthirsty. She wanted nothing more than to crush Isabella Cullen. The only vampire known to stand against her mate’s gift. "Something you've never dreamed of, my practical friend. Take a moment to ponder, for the justice we intended to deliver no longer applies." Caius hissed in surprise at his words. "Peace, brother," Aro cautioned soothingly. This would have been good news for the Cullens, if not for the double tone the message was delivered with. 

"Will you introduce me to your daughter?" Aro asked Edward again. Caius was not the only one who hissed at this new revelation. Edward nodded reluctantly. Aro still gripped Edward's hand, and he now answered a question that the rest of the vampires had not heard. "I think a compromise on this one point is certainly acceptable, under the circumstance. We will meet in the middle." Aro released his hand. Edward turned back toward us, and Aro joined him, throwing one arm casually over Edward's shoulder like they were the best of friends - all the while maintaining contact with Edward's skin. They began to cross the field back to our side. The entire guard fell into step behind them. Aro raised a hand negligently without looking at them. "Hold, my dear ones. Truly, they mean us no harm if we are peaceable." The guard reacted to this more openly than before, with snarls and hisses of protest, but held their position. Renate, clinging closer to Aro than ever, whimpered in anxiety. "Master," she whispered. "Don't fret, my love," he responded. "All is well." "Perhaps you should bring a few members of your guard with us," Edward suggested. "It will make them more comfortable." Aro nodded as if this was a wise observation he should have thought of himself. He snapped his fingers twice. "Felix, Demetri." The two vampires were at his side instantaneously. Both were tall and dark-haired, Demetri hard and lean as the blade of a sword, Felix hulking and menacing as an iron-spiked cudgel. The five of them stopped in the middle of the snowy field. "Bella," Edward called. "Bring Renesmee... and a few friends." Bella nodded slowly. "Jacob? Emmett?" she asked quietly. Both nodded. Emmett grinned. I crossed the field with them flanking me. Another rumble could be heard from the guard as they saw her choices  - clearly, they did not trust the werewolf. Maeryn glared at the wolf, unsure if her Master was safe. She wanted to come along and protect him, just as he took her into his protection when she was changed and her world changed, yet she couldn’t. She had to obey the commands. Aro lifted his hand, waving away their protest again. "Interesting company you keep," Demetri murmured to Edward. Edward didn't respond, but a low growl slipped through Jacob's teeth. They stopped a few yards from Aro. Edward ducked under Aro's arm and quickly joined them, taking Bella’s hand. For a moment they faced each other in silence. Then Felix greeted Bella in a low aside. "Hello again, Bella." He grinned cockily while still tracking Jacob's every twitch with his peripheral vision. Bella smiled wryly at the mountainous vampire. "Hey, Felix." Felix chuckled. "You look good. Immortality suits you." "Thanks so much." "You're welcome. It's too bad ..." He let his comment trail off into silence, Maeryn rolled her eyes. Only he would flirt with the enemy at its peaking point. But she knew how he would end the phrase: It's too bad were going to kill you in a sec. And yes, yes they would. Preferable Maeryn killing Bella specifically.  "Yes, too bad, isn't it?" she murmured arrogantly. Felix winked. “Promise me one thing?” Maeryn whispered ever so quietly to Alec and Jane, whom both looked at her questionably. “Safe Bella for me?” she replied with a sadistic yet perfect smile. The twins returned the smile. “It will be our pleasure.” Jane replied while Alec quickly kissed Maeryn’s forehead before the three vampire’s returned their attention back to the scene playing infront of their eyes, waiting for the command to attack and kill.  Aro had paid no attention to their exchange. He leaned his head to one side, fascinated. "I hear her strange heart," he murmured with an almost musical lilt to his words. "I smell her strange scent." Then his hazy eyes shifted to Bella. "In truth, young Bella, immortality does become you most extraordinarily," he said. "It is as if you were designed for this life." Bella nodded once in acknowledgment of his flattery. "You liked my gift?" he asked, eyeing the pendant she wore. "It's beautiful, and very, very generous of you.

Thank you. I probably should have sent a note." Aro laughed delightedly. "It's just a little something I had lying around. I thought it might complement your new face, and so it does." A little hiss could be heard  from the center of the Volturi line. Jane had curled her lips in annoyance. It hadn’t pleased her one bit that Master Aro had given Bella such a precious gift, and neither did it please Maeryn. Aro cleared his throat to reclaim my attention. "May I greet your daughter, lovely Bella?" he asked sweetly. Bella walked two slow steps forward.  Aro met them, his face beaming. "But she's exquisite," he murmured. "So like you and Edward." And then louder, "Hello, Renesmee." Renesmee looked at Bella quickly. She nodded. "Hello, Aro," she answered formally in her high, ringing voice. Aro's eyes were bemused. "What is it?" Caius hissed from behind. He seemed infuriated by the need to ask. "Half mortal, half immortal," Aro announced to him and the rest of the guard without turning his enthralled gaze from Renesmee. "Conceived so, and carried by this newborn while she was still human." "Impossible," Caius scoffed. "Do you think they've fooled me, then, brother?" Aro's expression was greatly amused, but Caius flinched. "Is the heartbeat you hear a trickery as well?" Caius scowled, looking as chagrined as if Aro's gentle questions had been blows. "Calmly and carefully, brother," Aro cautioned, still smiling at Renesmee. "I know well how you love your justice, but there is no justice in acting against this unique little one for her parentage. And so much to learn, so much to learn! I know you don't have my enthusiasm for collecting histories, but be tolerant with me, brother, as I add a chapter that stuns me with its improbability. We came expecting only justice and the sadness of false friends, but look what we have gained instead! A new, bright knowledge of ourselves, our possibilities." He held out his hand to Renesmee in invitation. But this was not what she wanted. She leaned away from Bella, stretching upward, to touch her fingertips to Aro's face. His smile widened, and he sighed in satisfaction. "Brilliant," he whispered. Renesmee relaxed back into Bella’s arms, her little face very serious. "Please?" she asked him. His smile turned gentle. "Of course I have no desire to harm your loved ones, precious Renesmee." Aro's voice was so comforting and affectionate. But Maeryn smiled, knowing better. And then she could heard Edward's teeth grind together and, far behind the foes, Maggie's outraged hiss at the lie. So they aren’t as thick as they seem, Maeryn thought. "I wonder," Aro said thoughtfully, seeming unaware of the reaction to his previous words. His eyes moved unexpectedly to Jacob, and instead of the disgust the other Volturi viewed the giant wolf with, Aro's eyes were filled with a longing. "It doesn't work that way," Edward said, the careful neutrality gone from his suddenly harsh tone. "Just an errant thought," Aro said, appraising Jacob openly, and then his eyes moved slowly across the two lines of werewolves behind him. Whatever Renesmee had shown him, it made the wolves suddenly interesting to him. "They don't belong to us, Aro. They don't follow our commands that way. They're here because they want to be." Jacob growled menacingly. "They seem quite attached to you, though," Aro said. "And your young mate and your... family. Loyal" His voice caressed the word softly. "They're committed to protecting human life, Aro. That makes them able to coexist with us, but hardly with you. Unless you're rethinking your lifestyle." Aro laughed merrily. "Just an errant thought," he repeated. "You well know how that is. We none of us can entirely control our subconscious desires." Edward grimaced. "I do know how that is. And I also know the difference between that kind of thought and the kind with a purpose behind it. It could never work, Aro." Jacob's vast head turned in Edward's direction, and a faint whine slipped from between his teeth. "He's intrigued with the idea of... guard dogs," Edward murmured back.

There was one second of dead silence, and then the sound of the furious snarls ripping from the entire pack filled the giant clearing. Maeryn felt the same. She would not be able to stand the smell everyday that these mutts dragged along with them. And she certainly does not like their attitude. However, that would soon be sorted out anyway. There was a sharp bark of command - from a huge, black wold, - and the complaint broke off into ominous quiet. "I suppose that answers that question," Aro said, laughing again. "This lot has picked its side." Edward hissed and leaned forward. Bella clutched at his arm, wondering what could be in Aro's thoughts that would make him react so violently, while Felix and Demetri slipped into crouches in synchronization. Aro waved them off again. They all returned to their former posture, Edward included. "So much to discuss," Aro said, his tone suddenly that of an inundated businessman. "So much to decide. If you and your furry protector will excuse me, my dear Cullens, I must confer with my brothers."

[yandere-sins]

Pretty

Yantober List! Feel free to participate at any point :3

And back I am, I do plan to get all posts I’ve been sitting on fast now, but I only finished one today ;; I have everyone else’s posts scheduled and also will try to post the new incoming posts on the same day from now on though! Sorry for posting so much, my algorithm will never recover lol! But thanks to everyone for sticking around ♥

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Rhys never used his phone as he waited for you to get changed in a clothing store. Simply, because he’d hate to miss the moment, you’d come out, and there was no one more important he could be texting right now than you were behind that curtain. Even if you didn’t act in any special way, for him, it was a little personal show when you’d finally come out and present yourself. Another shirt he’d take off you later, another thing that made you prettier than you already were.

Despite not demanding that he buys you stuff, you had a knack for finding beautiful accessories and clothes even if the two of you were just browsing shelves of window shopping from outside. At least, when you put the things on, they were beautiful on you. No matter how hideous it might seem on a mannequin, the instant you formed it into your outfit, it became beautiful. That was just your talent.

Or perhaps, it was just in Rhys’s eyes.

Nevertheless, you were a pretty person inside out. There were no nasty habits he would call anything but cute, and you didn’t wear things he found scandalous. You even partnered with him sometimes, and he loved how adorable you looked wearing his clothes, even if it was just an old shirt for sleeping. Everything just suited you well, and he couldn’t be prouder to show you off in the streets, you two looking like you sprung out of a fashion magazine.

But those were not the only pretty things about you. There was also your voice, your laugh, the way you hummed in the kitchen and sighed. He could tell if you were okay or not whenever your voice would break in the middle of a sentence, and Rhys couldn’t stop laughing when you did, entirely thrilled by the sound. That’s how beautiful your voice was.

Then your ideas. Of course, not everything you said was a useful connection of words. Still, they never were any less pretty or meaningless because of that. Even if it was just an anecdote about your mother eating cucumbers, he always loved hearing about it. And something even more beautiful was the spark in your eyes as he listened to you, feeling confirmed in your thoughts with Rhys giving you all of his attention.

There was nothing that Rhys could find that wasn’t absolutely stunning in his eyes. From the wrinkles when you smiled, to the streaks of red on your body when he touched you. Sometimes, he liked to apply them just out of fun, rather than any intentions. He’d watch your skin turn red, and then the marks disappearing again slowly. Watching you always was a better idea than the TV or other people nearby.

Nothing in this world could ever captivate him as much as you did, and he wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

When he pushed his face into your shoulder as you finally came out in your new, breathtaking garment, he hugged you tightly, taking in your smell and the way your chest heaved with every breath. Your heartbeat was the prettiest in the whole world, and the sweetest sound ringing in his ears. Even if you weren’t that close, if he felt desperate enough, he could imagine the sound of it, calming himself down with the thought alone. That’s how much he adored it.

If Rhys could, he would have written you a song about how much he loved you, or perhaps, poetry. Maybe paint a picture? Sadly, with his task of learning to fit into the society around him, he never picked up an actual hobby. Nothing he couldn’t discard after a few weeks again. There was no guitar he could play, and no text to recite.

But what he could do is imagining you and the future you two would have.

He could imagine the pretty house you’d own, with a pretty garden, and a pretty pool in it. The stainless steel kitchen, the smell of freshly cooked dinner, the feeling of your favorite colored bedsheets after a shower. A fridge full of food, a pet in your lap as you read a book. The way he’d kiss your pretty head when finding you after his shower, and the way you’d stretch out your neck to meet his lips with yours.

Grinning to himself, he couldn’t help the excitement about your future wedding, everybody so jealous of the perfect pair standing in front of the altar. The honeymoon he’d whisk you away on, just you two alone on an island with no one there to bother you as you consumed your love all the way for seemingly endless days straight, sounded mouth-watering already. Completed with its perfect peacefulness and the pretty sunsets you’d be able to see.

Rhys also thought of all the times after that, that you’d be alone after. All the times spent doing mundane house tasks together, the passionate and the tender nights you’d spend. Perhaps… a family? He kind of liked that idea, even if he wanted to keep you to himself for as long as possible, one day, it might be nice if you and he could bring a child into your family one way or another. Share the love between you two with someone who needed it.

But until then, he’d keep all of these pretty thoughts in his head, only for his heart to consume and pound like crazy every time they came up. When he released you from his hug, he gave your backside a teasing slap, watching as you grew adorably flustered and hopped back into the changing room. But not without giving him another sweet glare, the people around hushing their voices over that gesture. Though, this all didn’t matter, as long as you were all Rhys could focus on.

You, the love of his life. The person he’d spent all these years with, and claim the future together.

His pretty little thing.

Continue

[matchamorphosis]

𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝𝐲

𝒃𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒈𝒊𝒄 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒔, 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆. - 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒐𝒏𝒆, 𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒐 + 𝒋𝒖𝒍𝒊𝒆𝒕

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 || Once Upon a Time in the shiny pearly gates of an elite residential community not long ago, lived our dear sweet [y/n] Beaudelaire. a revengeful Juliet, a woeful princess within the lavish parts of these aristocratic folk. what will happen when she meets again with her once Romeo now fiend in the lovely auspicious event of her graduation party? especially when she’s out for his head.   

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 || alternate universe AU tutor//counselor!ari levinson × [black//woc]fem!reader + bryce langely × [black//woc]fem!reader

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 || angst + smut 

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 || 9.7K

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 || +18 nsfw, daddy!kink, student-tutor relationship, age gape: reader is twenty two and ari is thirty seven: don’t like, don’t read, dark elements, sexual past // intentions // flashbacks + mentions lose of virginity + future manipulation//blackmail + somewhat dark/upsetting content + alcohol mention + emotional denial

𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬 || valley of the dolls by marina . teachers pet by melanie martinez . imagine by ariana grande

𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞 || romeo + juliet  ☆ 𝓈𝒽𝒶𝓀𝑒𝓈𝓅𝑒𝒶𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓃 𝓉𝓇𝒶𝑔𝑒𝒹𝓎 𝓈𝑒𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓈 ☆

𝐰. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 || hello my dearests! chapter two will come soon! ♡ anyways, enjoy reading cherubs!

   THE BRONZE BELLS RING BACK AND FORTH FROM THE TOWER ABOVE, MARKING THE HOUR OF FIVE O’CLOCK.

   shuffling of waitresses and waiters bustle as they seamlessly welcome, seat and serve the arriving guests as they begin to enter the dining room. not breaking or huffing a single sweat as they carry the trays of prepared dishes while ice buckets of champagne and brandy dance around the golden framed accommodation.

   patrons young and old in fine silks and tailored stitches of embroidery situate themselves on the seats at the lengthen dining table. the seating arrangements that were made don’t crowd the banquet hall too much yet still very much wide that you only see eye level with the many persons right and left of you. 

   sharp smiles and provoking laughter, along with articulate chatter and conversations are not too loud yet not too quiet for anyone who had the nerve to add on nor the audacity to step in. devious hushed giggles and cruelly clever remarks still being heard, the affluent demons situate themselves comfortably before the grand feast.

   entertained by the mulled wine and glorious halcyon strokes of the Rococo paintings that ordain the burgundy upper fortifications. soft classical music soaks through while they breath in the malodorous rich phlox air, sitting blissfully. a rays of candlelight chandeliers and the whimsically painted ceiling of the golden cumulus clouds pierced through almighty arch angels shine above their privileged heads. glimmering in the sunlight swimming the room as the servers begin re-pouring the sparkling alcohol in their half empty glasses. 

   being settled in the middle of the table, our dear sweet princess- sits tracing the outline of her wine glass with a single finger. 

   the slight high pitch hum sends her deep in the labyrinth of her thoughts as she internally chants to remind herself who she is. more so the individual figure she is manifesting, someone who will give her strength through this tear dropping moment.  

   though here she is, green as the frog prince tale her neglecting father read to her to sleep when she was a child- she couldn’t help but not shed the ugly ivy shade. 

   for only the scene in front of her would make dutiful damsels cry in their lace handkerchiefs and shining knights in silver armor woe in pity- it gave all the more reason to.

   bare elbow resting on the table, it holds up her clenched fist. holding up her chin while she leans upset on forced straight shoulders. glossy nude lips pursed, sharp eyes puncture through the white cloth of the finely dressed table. once again restraining herself not to pout or let a sign of disgust crowd her face to make her emotions and thoughts obvious. 

   [y/n] [l/n] will prevail through this- well, until she starts to hear a giggle, and then a hushed whisper. 

   biting down on the inside of her cheek to ease the need of wanting to snap a snarky comment between the two individuals. for whom are speaking in front of her rather carelessly (for the fact that one of the which- his date or so you found out much earlier “fiancé” was excusable but it didn’t keep you from wanting to rip the woman’s tongue out) she simply rethinks her situation away from her prior knowledge and sit to a solid conclusion.

   it seems as though you’ve been replaced

   if it were possible, the tips of your ears tint up in a blistering crimson red as smoke curls, like a teapot screeching as the water was boiling over. although you don’t let that scream out nor the tears you’re keeping within. instead, slender brows arch and scrunch in their artful cynical manner. 

   your inflicting conscious attempts to cool down the bubbling boiling cauldron of vexes in the pit of your belly that you want to spite the man across. yet you’re unsure whether it’s because you feel like vomiting or because the scene in front of you is pushing a new level of internal disgust in yourself. 

   strange how you put yourself up with this in the first place is a whole heart mystery  

   listening in and out of your beloved friends conversations- centering around typical topics such as boys, books and bucks. [y/n] sits rather contemptible. 

   [y/n] doesn’t want to deal with the suffocating thick air of strained smiles, faux compliments, and forced giggles and chuckles. 

   all do nothing but rot her Dior perfumed presence the tragic princess is illed from this life.

   facing too many cold greedy touches to her bare highlighted shoulders and too many fabricated comments twined with vicious sarcasm and shaded in fifty shades of irony. it was all too much to handle, even when their pockets were dripping in gold and bundles of cash it was all a façade. apprehending the reflection of pure hatred in the rich folks split red irises, it has all been seen and taken accounted of hundreds of nonchalant times. 

   all fail to make you shiver, all fail to make you resign

   [y/n] doesn’t know how long she’s going to have to sit and look pretty, not for herself no but for an image. 

   all for the sake of her fashion designer mother, who urged her to have a gala for her high performance and decree. how can you say no to your own mother? even after all the vicious Hell she puts you through, she got you here. mistaking your own emotional withdrawal for strength at her cruel hands, she crafted her own perfect daughter. 

   one who showed no weakness, who gave no mercy

   despite this, she feels herself crumbling

   [y/n] doesn’t feel like talking or thinking about the silly and irrelevant ideals and prospects that don’t involve her sitting on his lap. 

   straddling the strong warmth of his thighs while your inner ones grind against his searing loins. wanting to act on the fine lines of either choking him or kissing him to death as your jeweled fingers play with the buttons of his expansive crisp white. 

   head full of toxic odium inflections you want to slash against the gentleman across it doesn’t mix right knowing you wish to be that women sitting next to him. the one who receives the cheeky whispers, who gets to feel his tongue when you two kiss. 

   instead, you ease the desire by taking a quick unnoticed swing of the moonshine in your silver flask. placing the vile thing back in your pearl Gucci clutch you grasp the item close to the ribs of your abdomen- quickly popping a mint in your mouth to mask the telling breath. keeping touch with your breathing, the shiny diamond ring on the woman’s finger almost made you choke the first time you saw it. 

   your heart nearly stopping dead in your chest when it sparkled and the hand that was twined with it was wrapped in another that also displayed the gold band. it threw you off completely and wrecked havoc on your heart and mind that you had to excuse yourself to cry in the bathroom. 

   now, your tears are nearly spent. the sight of dreaded thing only boils along with the other bittersweet things you find meaningless when it dealt with the gentlemen.

   the gentlemen across the dinging table, that broke too much of your heart and took too many pieces.

   [y/n] doesn’t want to look or hear the heart shattering display of affection that is proceeding right in front of her eyes. 

   knowing there was a certain unintentional catch to performing your celebrating gala you weren’t exactly sure what the decoy was. all until the deliberate provocative maneuvers were performed by the enemy himself. 

   that enemy, the gentlemen across from you, is puffing a thick Cuban cigar. not cowering against your bellicose gaze nor shudder of the battle cry that rings in the deep pools of your irises. he should know better not to play such a shrewd egocentric game when you’ve been playing it for years. 

   however the battlefield is empty, but you want war 

   you want it so bad it’s clouding your judgement, clouding every rational thought that brings you to reasonability. 

   if he wishes to avoid this matter let him be labeled as a wise coward. if he wishes to take you to battle then let him burn in the crossfire of his deserved loss

   you’ve had the experience of driving your victims in circles- questioning themselves on their own apprehensions and relation predictions. 

   it was fun driving them over the lines of their morals and boundaries. it was even more fun to sit in the passengers seat as you insisted for them to not hit the breaks and for-long the steering wheel. telling them they had no worries as they drove over the cliffs edge. yet in the end they always hit the breaks and they always begged for you to forgive them for it. 

   no one had the will to do so, no one could satisfy your hunger

   the deed at the moment- the childish yet very humorous game is more so a chore now if you were to admit. no longer a stringed merriment of imperious interest to drive your morphine high. on the other hand you aren’t going to ignore the piercing glance which soul purpose is to make you stare back. 

   the constant idyllic remarks that relentlessly grab your unwanted attention make him somewhat smirk as you notice it from the corner of you eye. the cocky grin almost willing you to shove that monarch title of yours in his face. slowly making him wish as you keeps his glare on you that you’d step off your throne and accuse him of revolt against the crown. 

   anything to make him hear your voice again

   the finger of your right hand that was still tracing the wine glass halts as you grab the chalice within your clawed hold. tapping the glass slowly with your shimmery white acrylics, all you see is red. 

   red, red, blistering red   

   [y/n] Beaudelaire is furious 

   if anyone truly knew her they would notice that she is indeed too quiet. that the way she purses her lips is a comprehensible threat that friends, classmates, and acquaintances are regretfully familiar with. 

   cause they all know, that once [y/n] Beaudelaire is simmering with the acrimony of the Gods there will be vengeance to uphold. and sooner than later she will be redeemed, even if it means a dead body being buried or burned she will get away with it.

   such wrathful repayment will have you second guessing your every daily decision, it will always come when you least expect it. although it will come (she sincerely promises) on a silver platter. polished and delivered by Karma herself that would make the War God Ares shiver and cower in fear and leave Athena in wonders on your foreshadowing strategies.  

   there are three golden rules you should know when you come across [y/n] Beaudelaire || never lie to her, never double-cross her, never get in her way

   you would think these simple laws would be easy to understand, follow and obey on the account that they’ve been written like a syllabus within the minds of her subjects- 

   then you are sadly mistaken

   there isn’t one event where an act of treason or mutiny were to be made against you, questioning your position of authority. you’ve known from the beginning that if you were constructing the building blocks of your kingdom a judicial system was to be constructed and laws were to be proclaimed. 

   even the rich have rules to follow in their own golden gate communities, you had your rules. it is no secret to everyone that the polished anarchy and shining throne that your seated on is built on the shameful secrets and corrupt deeds of your subjects. like a contract these vain money slicked cheats didn’t read the fine print. 

   the confidential information of the lieges were made as, somewhat clauses in contrary with whatever business you had to deal with or against them 

   everyone wished you the best of luck just as everyone wanted your throne, secretly wanting to burn you alive at the stake.  

  putting into perspective if they had burned you alive, taken the death enveloped in Holy fire nothing would change for their benefit. the anarchy, the high socially affluent class would crumple under new management. even the rich have rules to follow in their own golden gate communities, you had your rules.

   the crown, throne and kingdom was all for you 

   not because it was a birth right passed down, but because the socially illusioned world created didn’t exist for you created a system that only you understood how to control. 

   you worked hard to have the social and financial suitors of both potential allies not just in your own state but from all around. from the Beverly Hills to the Upper East Side there are people watching over you. nobody wished to mess with you although they loved the idea of it, you knew of people that are even powerful than anyone in this room it was frightening. 

   teaching yourself to be socially assertive and wiser in making decisions whenever it came to making ties and bonds. a trait these close minded sheep in wolfs clothing couldn’t buy with their mommy's and daddy's plastic.

   their silver spoon lives have been fed with opulent lies one mouthful at a time

   the princess thinks, amusing herself she can’t help but smirk rather wickedly down at the light amber liquid in her crystal glass. it keeps her distracted from the brute man across, knowing exactly what’s conjuring in that pretty mind of yours.

   coming off as innocent to the careless eye but if you knew [y/n] Beaudelaire nothing about the young lady is entirely innocent, at least not anymore. not as innocent as people loved and cherished, an element those poor simple fools took for fucking granted.

   it could all have been ruined from the gentlemen in front of her, her cruel parents, fabricated friends and crushed dreams. but she used to remember herself as the sweet heartfelt cherub that’s casted into the thundering storm. a storm she cannot escape from, how can someone escape from the troubles of their own mind? 

   sure she was naïve then, oblivious of the ways of the affluent world around her. so uncertain and troubled, always so quiet with her nose in a book and always first to raise her hand when her teachers asked a question. a stuttering mess whenever a handsome boy would speak to her, even when it was but the simplest things. 

   she remembers those days. when she wouldn’t let herself be seen out without satin hair ribbons that matched her plaid skirts, blazers and stockings. simple trademarks being her black glossy heeled flats, powdered sugar bubblegum, lip-smacking strawberry chapstick, and the tender playfulness of her blooming body.

   [y/n] Beaudelaire used to be pure- or whatever fucked up term that would describe a girl with no social experience. 

   now she’s considered an enigma. as many of her classmates and peers believe- a mystery, a paradox. 

   she was loyal, yet somewhat detached. platonic yet sensual, heartwarming yet tear wrenching. no one truly knows or understands her, nor wishes to. maybe the gentlemen some time ago wished but not anymore, the princess deems.

   the elegant dining hall that accompanies the Beaudelaire family fitted fifty five guests. all from her graduating class, extended family, business affiliates and close courtiers bustled with energy as the food is beginning to be served. 

   conversations ending and picking up quickly in between mouthfuls of buttered bread rolls and sips of ancient wine. the steaming rotisserie chickens and roasted lamb shoulders sit on plates of roasted vegetables next to the multiple wooden baskets of rolls. ivory bowls of rice pea soup and dishes of white and red sauced pastas are placed in commendation with trays of salads in front of each sitting guests.  

   looking down at the ivory china, the pea soup was the last possible thing [y/n] wanted to consume and the flirtatious comments that were happening in front of her only added to the fire that was tearing inside of her. 

   thinking otherwise, he was getting back at her from her actions earlier, he was equally as jealous as her

   [y/n] looks outside through the tall glass apertures, streaming in golden light the crowd of conversations and chatter going to the back of her mind. to help her recollect upon the events that happened earlier that day. 

   it’s a sunny breezy June day for the graduating class of Bradford for they had just arrived at the Osborne manor for lunch from the gardens of the Beaudelaire estate. considering it is the first week of summer break, long until she and her classmates are back to their books starting their third year of university. 

   they’ve decided instead of staying inside the fine Beaudelaire music room rehearsing their song for Madame Hautecourts (Bradfords founder) arrival next week, they’d rather spent it on the Beaudelaire estate. 

   surrounded by blooming flower beds, marble fountains and ivory statues. remotely unattended from any pressure bearing adults, it was heaven. enjoying the sound of buzzing bees and humming hummingbirds and the sight of elegant doves bathing in the birdbaths, their senior year was finally over and they were finally done with their studies.

   the rich white teethed teens drank fizzy bourbon sodas, smoked cigars and played cards as a celebration. smiled with nefarious charm as they told, listened and laughed along detention stories and parent-teacher mishaps that have happened throughout their high school years. 

   it was their right to enjoy their summer break as shameless young adults committing prohibited acts. they were legal enough to break the law, but wealthy enough to get away with it

   a golden ethereal moment [y/n] relished, yet couldn’t help but feel the peering stare of someone on her.

   in shock she met the eyes of a figure that was staring down at her on the second story balcony of the mansion. immediately upon seeing the heavenly cerulean blue of his fierce glare caught her off guard completely, for she has never set sight of them in person in forever. 

   unaware from his return over seas all together she surely did not invite the man yet here he stands. head up looking down on you with those ocean hues as if disappointed with the clutch of moonshine in your grasps and the lips of a drunk boy at your neck. 

   ignoring the large group of adults chatting upon the carved ivory balcony. talking with champagne flutes in hand while cigarettes sit fuming in between their dazzling ring fingers, not caring for their children below as they commit their sins. 

   the gentlemen’s- Ari Levinson’s sharp glare was still present and it viscously dripped in distain. maybe baring the same shock you were feeling- that someone had their hands and lips on his property. knowing that tell, he did indeed notice you’re holding onto this boys hand that he will later find out is your boyfriend, Bryce Langely. 

   yes, the older man heard it right from your mothers lips - boyfriend. 

   it was a little bit, a morsel of karma that you unraveled against him. having gotten over Ari, your traitor of a Romeo you now savor in the violent delights of being a woeful Juliet. even when you sometimes feared over your newly found beau, you would overshadowed that creeping chill to spite that man who shattered your heart.

   it came with its heartbreaking disadvantages but had abundances of limitless sinful privileges. obtaining a title that doesn’t include you ruining someone's will to live or playing a mind-fuck emotional waste game surely was your guilty pleasure. 

   granting all this, we all have learned from past mistakes- from past tragedies- that these violent delights that taste so virtuously divine, have their merciless violent ends. 

   this night will have its violent end and your wicked gaze told it all as it cascaded with Ari’s. so revengeful it was saddening, he thought as he exhaled the cloud of cigar smoke. feeling his fist tighten when the school boy of a boyfriend slipped his skinny fingers under the white satin of your slip dress. the beating in his chest increasing when you smirked, bite your lips on not the bastard but him. 

   breaking the stare wanting not to stare back, she straightens herself under the sun rays trying not to let him spoil the mood. instead of averting your eyes to the older man, you hold Bryce's bicep; lying your head on his shoulder. 

   the icy glare Ari returns was enough for you to wonder, were you going to regret doing this? 

   you’ve broken a vow, but that thought makes you bite your tongue hard in this falsehood. he broke his first, he promised he’d never leave you and he did. the pain its just as bad as you feel the metallic taste in your mouth. 

   I don’t belong to him, not anymore.

   glancing your attention back up to the floral balcony you see that your Romeo has disappeared and serves him right. but where are you the audience touching up on this elicit affair? 

   well, ladies and gentlemen, let us start from the beginning...

   it all started with a kiss. 

   a magical night that was the grand premier of [y/n’s] latest play, Romeo and Juliet.

   you were the leading actress playing Shakespeare's unfortunate Juliet. the prima donna of the stage, the blazing star in everyone’s hearts that snowy February night. 

   [y/n] was nineteen, open to the ways of the world and at the time your Romeo was a much older man. but in the heat of the moment- 

   when the dazzling stage lights shone down on her and the audience cheered in a standing ovation as the single roses and bundles of baby breaths were thrown at her feet. as you took your bow, the chorus of the angels above song for the romantic tragedy of a teenage tale to be your reality. 

   seeing your Romeo, your Ari, grinning proudly from the side lines throwing a red rose at the hem of your gown - your heart pounded in this truth/

   the romantically tragic tale was surely real when he snuck into her dressing room. 

   a bouquet of red roses in his hands asking her if she would like to take a stroll with him. when their eyes danced and fingers laced within each other as they walked towards the candlelit park. covering her with his own black trench coat over her revealing costume when the cold winds of January seared their cheeks. their lips met each other under a streetlamp as snow began to powder above them.

   that kiss was the tipping domino that shattered their flirty student-tutor relationship into a secret scandalous affair. the visits between them only began after that, both Ari and [y/n] always either announced a date with a letter informing them or a surprise visit.

   one of her favorite surprises, especially when it came to Ari- has been engraved in her memories for eons to come.

   maybe it wasn’t as sweet and virtuous as [y/n] Beaudelaire dreamed of and remembered, but how can it not be when she felt like she was in heaven.

   how could something be sin when it feels holy at the first touch?

   it might be the endeavor of the Devil cause she still feels the temptation of his large warm hands. groping and grasping the powder blue lace of her nightie that wrapped the smooth skin of her waist on that warm pink honeysuckle June night.

   a naughty moan erupted from her and a deep groan against him.     [y/n] could taste the bitterly addicting taste of honeyed whiskey on his dazzling smile and couldn’t help at all but to pull onto his loose velvet tie. shamelessly whining and urging him to come closer as she unbuttoned his shirt, roaming her hands on his sculptured muscled chest.  

   reality has withered into a forgotten thought for dear sweet [y/n] Beaudelaire. although they both know an important figure as Mr. Levinson shouldn’t have been in her room. let alone cup the petal soft cheeks of [y/n] Beaudelaire as he kissed her harder, dancing his tongue with hers.  

      desire, desire, desire...

   how she had desired - longed to feel his strong arms around her waist, his satin locks through her fingers, his muscled golden skinned everything against her. a thought struck her - what if her father and mother were to walk in any second?

   both home early from their business trips? simple, all hell would break loose- figuratively and literally, although how could this not make her swoon more. 

   the danger and chaos incited the princess, she felt like a precious Juliet.

   yet [y/n] couldn’t stop at the threat, couldn’t help the mesmerizing feeling of her plump warm lips against his sweet tasting ones. how he was her first kiss conflicted with the older man, it seemed she had much more experience than she was letting on.

   danger and pleasure mix well, especially when Ari Levinson was pumping his throbbing hard cock into the tight virgin hole of [y/n] Beaudelaire. gripping the religious brooch of his golden chain in the palm of her hand, he continued to pump deep in and out of her. symphonies of moans and sighs adorned their blissful bubble waiting and urging to be popped.

   whispering praises and soothing the dear girl as hot tears streamed from her eyes. kissing her temple telling her how well she did and how he loved her. 

   all while the droplets of blood curled with the puddle of nectar underneath their locked connection, soaking her rumpled Egyptian cotton sheets. his tempered hands gently caressed the curves of her summer ripe body, sucking her rose budded breasts and licking her honey slicked core. 

   the magical spell that she was under, the thrilling sin enfolding as he held the key to her own wrecking. how it felt so fucking goddamn right to straddle his lap and allow him to leave the dark cherry wine lovebites on her neck. ravishing in the sinfully divine reflections in his eyes, she flourished on their next encounter.      

   being this an unvarnished truth, it wasn’t just a kiss as you all know now. but the intensity, the pure desire radiating them both that full moon night as they ‘made love’ questioned dear [y/n] Beaudelaire whether or not it was an event she would regret for the rest of her days.

   conflicts her presently as she stares down on her food, not allowing the elements of the present to interfere to connect to that corrupt heaven.

   “promise me you’ll never forget this, forget me,” out of breath, you shushed in his ear and he stopped sucking the skin of her collarbones and gripping her rear entirely.

   angling his face to meet hers, he examines his artwork- her ruby lips now pouty, being overworked from crashing his lips to hers. the blooming hickies covering her neck, collarbones, and breasts like springtime poppies. 

   the sweaty bare sunkissed skin of her naked body underneath him and her leaking honey cascading with his salty brim coats both their inner thighs is nothing but aerial piety.

   noting the tears that glazed your eyes- the dear girl has never felt so defenseless, so vulnerable to heartbreak in her life. two droplet streams slip from her eyes and Ari’s heart weeps. 

   his precious princess being teary eyed will not do, not if he could help it.

   lifting her on his lap, he raises his warm hands to cup her cheeks. wiping the tears with his thumbs, erasing their short lived existence before softly pressing his lips to hers. keeping his hands in place as she grips the silky hair that drops onto the back of his neck.

   “how could I ever forget you? my angel, you are purely unforgettable. never ever forget it,” he hushes as he glides his thumb against her lips and onto her cheekbone. 

   he releases one hand to dig into his trouser pockets and reveals a shimmering piece that sparkles and shines in the moonlight, a heart locket. “when you wear this, i’ll know that your heart belongs to me. that I am worthy to have a place in your heart.” he glides his fingers around her throat, moving her hair to the side as he clicks the gold in place. 

   looking down on the locket, her fingers wrapping it close. “even without this pendent, my heart will always belong to you.”

   beaming at the sight of you in his gift his heart is off to the races. you belong amongst the lavish pearl, blush pink and fanciful moonshine strokes of Lawrence Alma-Tadema’s signature paintings. the posh gold necklace rests securely around your lower neck and the promising pendant tips a luscious glossy glow upon her breasts.

     she truly is art, to be seen and adored by everyone but only touched and worshiped by him/

   “tell me daddy, please tell me i’m yours,” you sighed heavily, bust along with the locket lifting against Ari’s chest as you move her face even closer to his.

   “no doll, daddy’s yours.” her giggle, a classical melody to his ears as she kisses him again sweetly. 

   he returns more passionately but stops immediately for the ding dong of the old grandfather clock announces the twelfth hour of the night, surprising as well as startling the girl.     “it’s getting late, I can’t stay for long.” he quietly hushes, his voice slightly raspy causing [y/n’s] inner demons lustfully scream but she pouts and carps.

        he’s leaving so soon, always so soon.

    “don’t frown, pretty girl. we had to stop at some point.” he smirks as he picks up his shirt from the floor, buttoning it up swiftly. 

   getting up from your bed to find his belt from under it, he walks by the blue lace he stripped you of much earlier in the night. fitting the leather with his belt loops he zips up his pants, looking to the small table aside your bed he see’s his tie missing among your things. 

   judging from the small giggle that escapes your cheeky smirk he turns to you and opens an outreached hand. the tie as he predicted is in your hands, yet you keep it clenched against your chest looking at him as if you aren’t keeping anything from him. 

   though with the raise of an eyebrow and the other hand of his that softly yet firmly grabbing your jaw makes you question yourself if this trickery was a good idea, “It isn’t kind to take daddy's things, princess,” 

   the comment leaves your smirk dropping and a pout to form. 

   Ari always kills your teasing games with gentle kindness, always had the patience for your devious fairy like temper. his authorized stance was a killjoy but he held the discipline you lacked that helped balance your relationship. 

   rolling your eyes you give him his tie, which he takes after giving a subtle kiss to your knuckles. “good girl,” your core clenches at those words. 

   Ari has the right mixture of dominance and softness that made the cocoons in your stomach break free. the fluttering butterflies of lust flying to your heart and heading down to soak your already sore core.

   hungry hands wander his muscled body, feeling and drinking everything in. playful eyes saunter down and lock on the front gaping tent of his pants. catching were your eyes lock on Ari smirks to himself, his dirty little girl. 

   he knows exactly what you’re thinking, purely naughty you are.

    “my eyes are up here, angel,” and with that remark your eyes snap to his eager blue and you feel your face heating up.

   the delicious ache between your legs from the previous adrenaline filled thrusts and pumps of Ari’s hips smashing into yours is like a VCR tape on repeat in your mind. leaving you bashfully smiling and shivering in cordial delight as you feel his white syrup drip from your puffy crux.

   biting your bottom lip, however you aren’t at all shy to sit up over your plush pink comforter and grab his shirt needily. averting his eyes on you as you cup his bearded cheek. your eyes turn to wet glass and Ari is scared you might shatter into tears again, but your angelic smile makes him think otherwise and your holy wicked giggles do most for his growing erection. 

   the very things you do to him, he will never be able to explain in words.

   “promise i’ll see you again, Ari. promise me we’ll have more nights like this,” lips ghosting over his purposely. 

   those same wandering hands slide over his chest slowly, working down exploring the front of his pants. rubbing the tent with rapacious fingertips he moans under your touch. if this feeling of intimacy was a type of bait they’re both now hooked.

   “undoubtedly princess,” he keenly moans as he leans into your spit slicked lips yet you pull away giggling. “oh no, you don’t.” he suddenly grabs your waist and lifts you up from the cream sheets of your four poster bed. carrying you bridal style as he twirls you around your pale pink bedroom.

   wrapping your arms around his neck you burst into a fit of hushed giggles, Ari smiles to himself. 

   such a darling princess, he thinks again, his darling princess

   setting her back down on her bed he tucks her in and pecks her nose, caressing her lovebiten gold lace adorned neck. “my dove, i’ll see you tomorrow. for now is best you sleep.” he whispers breath warm against your lips he pulls away. turning his body to reach the secret doorway until-

   “must you go? please stay, please,” you sit up, holding his face in your hands as he looks down at you. 

   tinges of sadness and tones of sleepiness shade deep in your eyes and Ari feels his heartstrings vibrating. how could he even think of letting you sleep alone? wouldn’t be a justified thing for him to take your purity, make love to you and leave you bare and cold all alone. 

   eyes shined bright as you looked up at him, so sweet and angelic and waiting for his response. he was unsure, of course his heart sang that he wanted to stay. yet questioned himself as to why he let himself corrupt your angel kin, why he allowed himself to fall in love with you. dreamt every night for you to warm the empty cold spot on his bed. 

   dreamt of making you his. 

   the killing absence is a tell. 

   Ari wants to stay, oh how he wants to stay.   

   although he is scared, terrified- that once he lays on your bed with the comfort of your warm sleeping body against his, he won’t ever be able leave. 

   terrified that all conscious awareness of knowing this love is forbidden will be erased cause he won’t care. as long as he feels your heart beat against his when he shuts his eyelids. terrified that this may be all a dream and he’ll wake up in his bed alone with you not by his side. 

   you can notice the troubling hesitation, even when his eyes are on you his mind is somewhere else. wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull him down on you until his clothed body is pressed softly against your bare one. until your eyelashes flutter against each other, until your lips feel each others breath.

   “please, stay,” your whisper soft and airy, your face as well as the pendent ravishing in complete beauty and elegance.

   you are truly his, and he will never let you go

   with that he doesn’t answer because he’s taking off his clothes again till he is bare and vulnerable just like you. picking up your sheets he slips next to you. “come, my dove,” he hushes and you shuffle against the sheets to lay on him. 

   each of your legs on the opposite of his sides, your naked breasts pressed against his warm lifting chest. damp face still parallel to his he sees a tear leak from your eye and hear a small sniffle.

   “what’s wrong?” hand at the back of your neck he pulls you closer. 

   “w-what happens if they find out about us? what happens i-if they tear us apart?” whimpering your voice breaks in between sobs.

   Ari cups your cheeks while he shakes his head, as if what your saying is impossible and hopeless. both you star-crossed lovers should know- 

   by the fate of the tragic stars above was this night destined to come. 

  “never. never would they be able to tear me away from you. [y/n] look at me, I would never let that happen,” his whispered voice euphoric as he holds the sides of your face.

   hushed sobs escaped your mouth, Ari wipes your tears with his rough palms. hugging you close until you calm down and your small hiccups can be heard. a small smile begins to unfold between the two of you and Ari folds a piece of your hair behind your ear. 

   you’re so beautiful when your bare and on top of him, it’s almost godly. 

   starry face, body and soul is just begging to be worshiped, he does worship you. “even if they try and succeed, they would be at a loss. For my heart would still belong to you, forever and always.” by that, your lips stretch in a tragic smile. 

   “forever and always,” you sigh as your lips meet his in a wistful kiss.

   lips passionate against yours, hands in his wild hair and legs intertwined you both fall in the black hole of desire again. both of you know that this was destined to happen, that they was no way to avoid or prevent this. 

        your heart his and his heart yours,          both eternal and forever blooming.

   when you two are finally spent and sore in the most wonderful of ways, you lie on your sides. facing each other by enjoying each others presence, tracing and retaining every freckle, scar and birthmark with caressing fingertips. grabbing the red lace ribbon that was initially in your hair, you tie it around Ari’s wrist. 

   tired eyes going dreamy, he lays to his side smiling and watching as you wrap and finish the lace with a bow. 

   “it isn’t much, but if- on the account, that they do tear us apart. please know that I will wait for you. always.” hushing, your bodies glow in the loves rays of the pale lavender moonlight present.  

   pulling you to his chest, your face finds the crook of his neck and breath in his natural scent. “and I to you,” he says kissing the top of your hair, wrapping his arms guarding you in the most comforting way.

    “Goodnight good night, my Romeo,”  

        parting  is  such  sweet  sorrow -

    “Goodnight good night, my Juliet,” 

        that I shall say good night till it be morrow.

   you remember after the night was more love and happiness you don’t know you could ever feel. in your opinion that morning the following day was like a perfect reverie. 

   Ari and you were woken up from their lovesick slumber by the sing song of the morning birds and the vivid yellow sun rays. giggled and admired the memory of last night as he pressed butterfly kisses over your hipbones and belly. 

   wearing nothing but Ari’s cream button up and him in his briefs they had a French breakfast out on the brick terrace barefoot surrounded by Persian buttercups and marigolds. 

   afterwords they took a bubble wash in her clawfoot bathtub and put on some clothes, smelling fresh of rose water and milky dove soap. walking down the staircase as he had to leave, you kissed him goodbye but he reassured you that he will be back that same night to see you again. 

   however with unfortunate timing, your parents returned that afternoon from their separate business trips. with greater outcomes than they both have expected, news of their return and latest success most likely cautioned Ari. he is one of her father’s most close old friends and obvious of his return he did not come to the celebrating lunch that same day which dishearten [y/n] but she knew that he would come around.

   and he did, time and time again through the end of your first year of college and following into the middle your second year. that is, until he stopped and disappeared from her completely when the summer season went by. 

   the day you thought would be a nice idea to stop by the private elite college to see Ari. you were surprised to find that everything in his office to find everything of his gone except a letter on the desk with your name on it. you’ve examined the empty room around you, the framed degrees on the wall and boxes of filing papers vanished. 

   the office clerk had informed you that he was here when you arrived, seeming to suspicious you told her that you were meeting him for ‘counseling purposes’. 

   now siting in his chair by his desk you opened the letter with shaky hands, prepared yourself to either be completely devastated or perplexed. slipping the letter out and forced yourself to take a deep breath as you focus on the cursive black ink.

         My Dearest Dove,

         I beg hat you won’t be disappointed. won’t be mad or even put this on yourself, it kills me to see you cry. 

         I didn’t have the heart to tell you this sooner and with that I dread itself though I will be back in a couple of months. 

         Know that the sun will blaze and the moon will shine and the planets will orbit into oblivion. 

         For my love for you was gifted by the stars and with that I beg of you to do the most and wait.  

   it was soiled with a teardrop as you finished reading the last words. the letter left a sore pain in her heart that was laced with amorous longing. leaving his office with the letter in hand, salty melancholy tears on your tongue and a prolonging ballad hum in your tender voice. 

   you didn’t blame him for taking a job opportunity over seas as you later found out but it hurt knowing he didn’t tell you of this earlier. so you did what he asked you to do, to wait for him.

   the lovely burning hours of wasting through your summer retreat daydreaming of your runaway Romeo to return turned into days. then with greatest unfortune days into weeks, and weeks into months till now it has been a solid year without a single phone call, letter, or personal appearance.

   until now that he sits across from you.

   the sheer heart shattering thought rattled in her mind that last summer day and with that tears threaten to glaze and drop from her mascara lashes at this moment. 

   our princess, our Juliet already accepted that it was an incident… 

   incident be damned.

   the man is no ordinary man but a public figure. Mr. Levinson could not risk his professional career to a scandal. thinking you probably weren’t worth the risk in his eyes, you’re blinded by the truth of how utterly wrong you are. 

   everyone knows that he has worked and had an extensive history with the justice department in the earlier years of his life. eventually in some time in his life settled as a criminal behavioral specialist teaching a division of B.A.U students at Harvard.

   when people young and old see him, they see a hardworking risk-taking man who risked his life for our country and to help many others in need. on the other hand when girls [y/n] age see him they see dollar signs, because of course the man had the opportunity to retire, but saw fit that the rank of superior director of future agents would be a better use of his time.

   for just that fact alone is the true reason for his previous failed marriage, how and why it came to an end. Hell even you knew that he was divorced, you would see and notice the picture frames of a little girl that was always placed on his desk. whenever you tried to say or ask anything about it he always changed the topic, seeming empty and broken. you knew that the little girl was Ari’s daughter, you just didn’t want to push the subject but he would soon open up to you later on.

   part time however, Mr. Levinson was an advocate as well as counselor for Ivy Leagues. the very first the two of you met was the day he was gathering and advising students for college preparatory programs and collecting college applications. 

   when you stepped inside the counselors office, and took a deep inhale of the incense soaking the air. the soft eye contact he given as you chanted about your aspirations and ambitions. the way he held your hand when you started to speak on your mental and social troubles. telling you that you were safe to speak your mind on any topic. 

   once you left his office that day, you felt the singing sensation of wanting to see him again. memorize his face so its like an oracle for your mind to fantasize, remember his smooth voice till you can hear it in your dreams. an unforeseen crush was formed and with that you started finding new ways of seeing him, which meant more visits to the counselor office. 

   you wanted to talk to him more, speaking on topics that didn’t revolve around your sweet cynical ordeals but for but for him to get a taste of your sweet cynical- well you get the picture.

   you wanted to get to him to touch you. so shy touching your hand and shoulder from time to time realizing he was getting much more comfortable around you then what was appropriate for him as a counselor. 

   you wanted to get him to kiss you. during that prophetical freshman year of university when the Shakespearean performance commenced you did get that kiss. 

   if you were being truly honest with yourself, you don’t at all regret it. 

   you truly don’t.

   he was your counselor, he was somewhat of a tutor at times but it wasn’t at all professional when they had been continuously flirting and teasing each other. an affair fueled on both sides as you two tried on riling the other person up until they had no clue what happened when your hands found each others. 

   it was nerve racking trying to convince yourself that you were just using him so he’ll pull some strings to get you an even closer advantage into Harvard than you already had. 

   Ari knew [y/n] was younger- but the intelligence, sophistication, and charm that you were gifted he couldn’t help but fall head over heels.

   it was wrong, a disgusting thing to do he thought and thought. but with your consent and the love you gave back to him made those thoughts stop. he was under loves heavy burden and oh did he sink stepping forth into your siren like song. 

   Mr. Levinson was never a man to settle when he could do so much more, even when the man was ensured with millions of dollars the government owned him in his missions adding onto his current affluent job the man was indeed wealthy.

   you’d have to be in order to be around such prosperous bluebloods, where old money and power come hand in hand. these upper class folk think they rule the world and by him being a respected figure, people laid countless loyalties to him.

   it isn’t fucking fair.

   how could he still sit there, thinking he helped you when he took the sharpened sword of your trust and loyalty to only just stab you with it. through your already browbeaten and broken heart you gave with shaking hands and pitiful eyes.

   where you carried the broken pieces of her heart where ever you went, like a pathetic souvenir of some sort that you bragged for some reason. you were and are so emotionless, so deprived of such that you mistaken it as strength. so desperate that Ari Levinson himself helped stitch and glued back together.

   all that to just shatter it within his grasp, letting the ambrosial blood gush on his hands and wipe it all over your fucking face.  

   so rather then turning into the broken clueless little girl you outgrew, you instead picked up the bleeding smithereens and put them together yourself. with the will of an iron fist the burning sensation of your blood, sweat and tears you forced yourself up. swearing you will never fall to a defeat like this again. 

   yet this won’t excuse your thoughts, you swore that you will only exchange the same treatment back to him when the opportunity occurred. 

   and now is the perfect time, as he sits at your will to find and make amends.

   a spiraling storm begins to unravel within the mind of [y/n] Beaudeliare, she will not be silenced from her treacherous heartache. she will see to it that she will have that man begging on his knees for forgiveness, and maybe set him on fire if it suits her liking.

   snapping out of her day dream [y/n] couldn’t help but not sneak a quick look at him, I mean he is across the table. 

   peering from the setting sun she looks to him and she wishes she hasn’t. the face she fantasizes of at night yet curses in her daydreams holds the apple of her eye and she feels Cupids skilled golden arrow rip through your heart once again.

   soft toffee hair parts on top his shoulder blades, dark sultry beard slightly trimmed going in stark contrast against his white pressed dress shirt. wondering eyes lingered onto his wrinkle free collar to see the three top buttons loose revealing his golden Star of David chain and a trail of dark chest hair. 

   the woman next to him was indeed beautiful and held more mature features than her. if anyone were to see these two sitting together they’d assume they were together but think twice to see that the man is Ari Levinson and he is already married to his job then be shocked again when they find he’s engaged. you believe the woman's name is Miss. - soon to be Mrs - Liz Earl, but dismiss it every time she introduces herself. 

   asking her to repeat her name saying it always slips your mind, pretending she didn’t exist when she tried to speak to you. thus on the account of you responding you tried to make her question whether or not you liked or despised her.

   it wasn’t right at all to be this petty and you know it. you aren’t acting like yourself by taking your pain and convicting it on the poor women. although you can’t deny the connection she has with Ari that makes your blood pound with resentment. you especially cannot deny that you haven’t seen him wrap his arm around her waist or chuckle along to whatever she had to say or kiss her while they lit their thick cigars. with that you rolled your eyes at your sincerity even though you were wrong doing so. 

   Ari would catch you within his actions and your vicious feedback. he wasn’t blind to your raging sorrow and he wasn’t petty enough to actually comment back at you or play in the game you were initiating. 

   but he hates to see you this way

   is he the only one who sees the tears in your eyes?     the falseness in your smile and remarks?     the ache in the way you try so hard to present yourself that everyone seems to fall for?     what is he suppose to do?

   Ari can’t exactly grab your face and kiss you for the whole world to see but he wants to, he can’t avoid you any longer. desperately trying so hard to move on, even now that another women is holding his hand and kissing him he still personally wishes it was you. longing to see you again from the very beginning of his voyage he sees you now, heartbroken and patience gone to waste. 

   the very last thing he wanted for you, a deed he should have never put on you. even though you hate his existence, Ari wishes for you to simply look at him. 

   not look at him behind his back or when he didn’t know you were staring, he wants to meet your irises to his. you’ve been driving him in circles as you planned, all he wants is to hear you sweet voice yet he can’t get over your arrogance. 

   your self righteousness that made him fall for you in the first place

   on the other hand, his presence was enough to make you shift and either burst into a mess of tears or throw a fucking bitch fit. although you will not show any sign of torment, not a single weak manifestation. especially not for the man that treated someone of your worth as a shameful sin when he worshiped you behind closed doors.

   “Miss. Beaudelaire,” a deep voice rang and you turned your head to the mayor sitting on the right of your father.

   “it’s wonderful to hear that you’ve been doing so well in your classes. the Beaudelaire residency endures their traditional status.” Mr. Waldeyer Hartz exclaims, peering at you from across the long table which catches everyone’s ears.

   a gleaming smile is revealed and you pull your bottom lip in between your teeth, they will be in for a surprise.

   [y/n] can’t help but enjoy the attention, she hasn’t worked years of college hell as President of the Student Body and claimed Valedictorian while crushing any competition to not enjoy time in the spotlight.

   from the corner of her eye she catches Ari clapping, bringing a chorus of clapping from all others. the gesture leaves you bashfully smile and when your eyes meet his the beat of your heart flutters in that dear nostalgic way. 

   a strong proud smile displayed on his face that lights up his eyes in some magical way. the lovely gesture only you got to see, cause it is only meant for you and only you.

   though that divine thought once warm and sensational leaves you empty and cold. you aren’t the women in his life no more, thinking again you weren’t even his to begin with.

   how can someone be loved and be claimed as such when they are buried like a dirty shameful secret?  

   you’ve grown up at the receiving end of heartbreak. whether it’s the cruel torment you’ve received from your classmates from your early school years. your parents toxic high expectations and standards they whipped you up to fulfill. to simply feeling broken when you keep disappointing yourself realizing you haven't gotten over your treacherous Romeo. 

   your Ari.

   it’s too late to head back now.

   you’ve put to time, effort and power into getting yourself here. it will not be shot down for a cry of remorse and validation. you will never put yourself forth in that again. 

   “actually, Mr. Hartz. there have been some alterations.” you say, chest empty and heart cold.  

   “you say? do tell!” Mr. Hartz cheers, while the guests peer their eyes on you from the sudden attention.

    “i’m not attending Harvard anymore for my last year. in fact i’m transferring to Princeton, right father,” you say and your father smiles at you nodding his head. 

   “those individual service programs and essays did work well in the end, and not to mention Mr. Levinson’s considerate word and recommendation letters. it was quite simple to please the Princeton officials,” you smile, teeth gleaming and eyes bright.

    “you hear that Levinson! your star pupil will be competing against you in the big leagues now!” Mr. Hartz exclaims, cackling and erupting in boisterous laughter along with her father and a couple other of his close friends.

   she doesn’t even spare Ari a glance but she imagines the rage and offence on his confused face. unsure as to what happened but he traces back to the hours and hours of you and him together- 

   were you merely just using him? 

   the gentlemen's clapping stops and he looks at you again. you’re completely ravishing as the cheers continue and you start making your mini speech but its all hazy in the back of his mind.

   is this some sort of back biting trap you set out for him to fall for or has he been clueless this whole time thinking you really felt for him?  

   he may have left you, but it was for your own good

   how could he stay by your side just to ruin your life knowing that the love you two share will never be accepted? how could he have stayed when the love he feels for you tears at his heart? knowing he can never truly have you?

   breaking his vows and promises to you of course, but if this all was a sort of plan of yours. so, has he done the right thing at all for leaving you? 

   yes and no. its all so complicated even when the answer is in front him, drinking her strawberry rose from her crystal glass. 

   he still loves you, if it was possible its a galaxy stronger than before. its ripping his lungs and heartstrings wanting to know- urging to know if you feel the same.

   “an Ivy League image is to be bestowed upon you young lady. keep up the good work and don’t disappoint us.” your father says and you wince, knowing it isn’t as sweet as he spoke. 

   with that everyone goes back to their own silly privileged conversations as the dessert course starts to be served. 

   the smell of chocolate, fresh strawberries and lemony puffed pastry fills the room. plates of powdered berry oven cakes come in varies colors and sizes. trays of dark chocolate covered strawberries and white chocolate red velvet croissants replace the empty dinner dishes.

   “oh, [y/n] you have met up with my grandson have you?” Ogden Osborne, the principle of Bradford adds nonchalantly. 

   sipping from his wine glass gesturing to the shiny blond young man no more than a seat away from her. “he just so happened to transfer for Princeton himself and I believe you will both have some classes together. am I right Bryce, my boy!” he chuckles and the young man laughs lightly giving her a flirty smile.

   as if on que, Maya Langely - who has been siting to your left excuses herself from the table to chat with Finn Earl who you recently found out is Liz Earl's son. switching seats with Bryce Langely, you find yourself staring face to face with the shiny blond with the bottled green eyes.

   “hello [y/n/n]. it’s been a while, hasn’t it?” Bryce smiles fondly, a bit too sweet as he reveals his wolfish smile. sitting closer to you, gibing you a rather tight hug yet his hands slip under the table to grip your ass roughly.

   the eyes of her father and mother and Mr. Osborne don’t notice this yet Ari grits his teeth in a seething sneer.

   Ari knows boys like these, he knows they treat everything of the opposite sex as a chess piece. a challenge in their selfish and heartless games. does his Juliet know Bryce flirts with everything with a beating pulse while she isn’t around? 

   apparently not. little naïve [y/n] kissed her devious demon for a boyfriend after settling in the dining room when Ari himself stumbled upon hearing her blond beau. hidden away in a coat closet making out between some girls legs as he went to find a room to smoke in.

   “it has, hasn’t it? a whole year! it’s your fault you’ve moved away and haven’t kept in contact with me!” you joke and he laughs and gleams that boyish smile that makes all the schoolgirls blush, gripping your ass tighter. 

   [y/n] and Bryce always play this game, pretending to not know each other. though they were childhood best friends they’ve grown apart due to well, growing out of each other. realizing they had different likes and interests as all childhood friends do. 

   even throughout high school they both never associated with each other, they weren’t within the same social circles and they sure didn’t have the same friends. with this you’d imagine they never get along yet with two horny and danger seeking teenagers anything is possible.

   you won’t ignore the sexual eagerness in his eyes that is overlooked by plenty but you don’t care for him. you do not care for Bryce because your legs lift from underneath the table to slip under Ari’s one pants leg. 

   caressing the leg with the front of your ivory Prada heels making Ari’s gaze shoot to you when he was in midst conversation with Liz. staring at the dessert options you don’t return the stare but continue with your footwork.

   guests begin to grab what desserts catch their eyes and you place a mini raspberry dome cake on your plate. cutting your fork into the lemon cake and taking it into your mouth, the whipped cream and raspberry jam covers your lips. licking them coyly, Ari’s stare is nothing but punishing. 

   it brings you back to all the times you purposely acted up to just have his attention. always succeeded you did as he would whisper dirty things in your ears about what he was going to do once the two of you were alone. at this moment you’re proud to know it still works like a charm once you feel his warm hand clenching your ankle.

   ignoring the warning glare you chat with Bryce, joking and teasing the rest of dessert despite your fear of him creeping up your spine. occasionally, just to piss Ari off- you’d whisper and giggle sweet nothings in Bryce's ear whilst caressing your bare foot against your suffering Romeos hardening manhood. 

   leaving both you and Bryce smiley and giggly like schoolchildren and Ari sexually affronted trying desperately to hold in a moan.

   smirking, feeling accomplished when Ari starts to sweat and hide the growing pleasure from the woman next to him. she asks if he feels alright, Ari’s respond is short of nothing but murmurs and a grunt while he shifts in his seat. keeping the small sly smile, you remove your foot all together to just place it back, rubbing his now solid cock. dipping a single finger in the cakes syrupy sweetness of jam and cream, taking your coated finger you take it in your mouth. 

   [y/n] could feel the burning eyes of Ari against her but you pull out your signature doe eyes. letting a slight pout come into the equation, Ari feels his heart melt and he wants to yank your foot when you start rubbing harder. maybe steal you away, pull you close in the dark corner of a secluded empty room and return the teasing favor. 

   wanting to do so he can’t even shift, your motions building up inside him he feels like he’s going to bust in his pants any second. so he then removes your foot giving you the coldest glare that even makes you stop. excusing himself from the table, alarming his fiancé but you roll your eyes at this action. Ari’s expecting you to follow him. 

   how fucking typical for the man who still thinks he owns you. you will not follow him, you won’t hop along. you aren’t his clueless bunny no more.

   sudden clanking is erupted from across the table, to see sight of her dearest uncle clanking his pudding spoon against his wine glass catching everyone’s attention.

   “everyone attention! i’d like to make a toast. this year has indeed been hard for us all, but when you look upon the reckoning there we see the clearing of a new resolution. it amazes me to this day that we see the youth taking charge of their futures, and I am utmost proud of my youngest niece. [y/n/n] Beaudelaire for carrying on our bloodlines legacy and continuing to bring honor upon us. ‘here here!’ for our dearest princess [y/n/n]!”

    “here here!” the table cheers, raising their glasses of wine and champagne towards the dear princess, smiling and praising for your victory.

   seeing sight of her father and mother smiling proudly at her, all their business friends and affiliations congratulate you once again. friends giggling, pecking your cheeks in swift hugs and your male classmates holler praises and throwing flirtatious winks. 

   the table continuously cheers and Bryce presses a kiss to your cheeks while you take a sip of your glass of white wine. yet you feel disheartened.

   all this time you have thought you’d be sharing this moment with Ari. despite its what you’ve wanted, you feel melancholy and abruptly bitter. 

   this isn’t right, this doesn’t feel right whatsoever. 

   for how have you planned this to emotionally collapse on you when it was meant to make you feel better? how have you been focusing on yourself and loving yourself to only wish to be in the arms of the man who hurt you the most? 

   is this how that unfortunate Capulet girl felt?     having no escape from the raging love she felt for a person she couldn’t have? 

   growing up, [y/n] knew that the storybooks on her bedroom shelves told no lies, the magical tales bared no falsehoods. being the innocent small girl she was, wishing upon stars by her windowsill when she couldn’t go to sleep you prayed for a prince to save you. 

   that night, the stars knew all your downhearted disputes, your troubling sorrows as you wept every single one to them. have they truly listened to you that North Star night ago, have they believed you? 

   the wise astral beings above know all and see all but are they working in your favor? 

    I reassure you this ladies and gentlemen, no matter how tragic or wicked the stars may be - they don’t act without purpose.

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˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ my storybook || aka my masterlist!