#they mirror each other!! they are understood without having to say a word!!

[leashaoki]

selfish

pairing: satoru gojo x fem! reader

synopsis: it’s been months since gojo broke up with you, so why is he outside of your window at 4am?

warnings: angst, fluff, smut, unprotected sex, cunnilingus, exes to lovers

wc: 4.7k

this post contains nsfw content, minors do not interact.

It’s 4 a.m., and Gojo finds himself at the entrance of your apartment complex. He’s drenched from head to toe, having turned off his infinity hours ago; he just wanted to feel. The cold dampness of his clothes was almost comforting, and the droplets cascading down from his hair to his face were welcomed. Gojo, just for tonight, wanted to feel human.

He isn’t even entirely sure how he got here; it wasn’t a case of teleporting to your place as he usually would. No, Gojo had wandered aimlessly (or so he thought) and ended up here, gazing up at the dark window to your bedroom and wondering what you were doing, how you looked, and how you were feeling. Were you even awake?

It had been a few months since he had broken it off with you, coldly rejecting you when he noticed the signs of you falling in love with him. He was unforgivingly callous with you that night, acting as if you were insane for thinking there was anything serious between the two of you and that it was just a bit of fun.

If only you understood how untrue each and every word that he said that night truly was. Gojo adored you, terrifyingly so; it scared him to no end. He had his reasons for calling things off; he believed them to be necessary, but that didn’t change the gnarling pit that had been festering in his chest ever since. Satoru missed you; he missed you so damn much that his only distraction was throwing himself into mission after mission. But at night, when there was no company but his empty sheets and no voice but the dismal hum of the television, he felt empty, lost, and alone.

He looks up to your window again, his heart skipping a beat when he notices the dim glow of your lamp lighting up the glass. Mind racing, he conjures up thoughts of someone else sharing your bed, touching you, holding you—why else would you be up at this godforsaken time?

His thoughts are interrupted when he sees a familiar face peep up over the window sill, your eyes meeting his. That warm feeling returns to his chest, a feeling he hadn’t felt since he saw you last. Gojo notices the way the streetlights around him flicker at his surge of emotion and gets himself in check.

He doesn’t even have time to think about how much of a creep he looks like at that moment before his phone rings. Looking down and seeing your name pop up on the screen, he answers without hesitation, watching as you climb onto your window, sitting on the sill and peering down at him, confused, hurt, and angry.

The call begins, and no one speaks, just the two of you gazing at each other from afar. Gojo thinks to himself how beautiful you look and ponders how much more beautiful you’d look up close. A half smile graces his lips, a greeting—a greeting not mirrored by you. You’re frowning, rolling your eyes to mask the sadness you feel. Much like Gojo’s small smile, you’re both hiding the pain that’s eating you up, threatening to break through the surface at any given moment. Saturo removes his blindfold, stuffing it into his pocket and revelling in how angelic you look up there. It feels like forever passes before you say, “What are you doing here, Gojo?”

He flinches; you never called him Gojo, always Satoru, or his personal favourite, Toru. It felt so cold, so not you. The man swallows audibly, a shakiness to his breath that he’d rather conceal as he sighs, “I don’t know.”

Gojo sees the way you scoff, shaking your head in exasperation. "Gojo, if you don’t know why you’re outside my place, like a fucking creep, may I add, at four in the morning, then politely fuck off.”

“Hey, come on.” His voice is soft like silk, and there's an air to his tone that feels different; there’s no cockiness, no ego, just Gojo. “I wanted to see you; is that such a bad thing?”

“You mean, after you were a total dick and we agreed on no contact? Yeah, Gojo, it kind of is.”

The use of his surname burns again, the blow not having been lessened since the first time. “Just let me in, please,” he practically begs. “I want to talk; I’ve missed you.” Satoru hardly recognises himself; he’d never been one to put his heart on the line, to speak so softly to someone though they detested his presence; not that he blamed you.

He can see the lack of trust in your expression, looking away from him when you speak up next. "Look, Gojo, if you’re looking for someone to fuck, I’m not interested. I’m sure there’s someone else you can call.”

You could act cold and stoic all you wanted; Gojo could hear the hurt in your voice and sense your sadness in the words. It sends a wave of guilt through him. You sound so broken, broken because of him. He’d kill someone for using you like that, to think you thought that of him cut deep. But how else could you see him? That’s the narrative that he’d created when he’d falsely convinced you that he saw your blatant relationship as nothing but fuck buddies. He struggled to see how you fell for that—with the way he couldn’t go a day without seeing you—and how you’d wake up wrapped in his arms with his lips on your ear, whispering how important you are to him each and every morning.

“I wouldn’t do that to you. That’s not what I’m here for,” he begins, shaking his head and noting the way you look back towards him, a look of vulnerability crossing your features. “I just want to talk; let me in, please. You know, I’m not one to beg, but if you really want me to, I will.”

Your silence speaks volumes, raising a brow at the icy-haired nuisance floors below you. The quiet is broken by a sigh from Gojo, and you watch in both horror and amusement as the six eyes himself gets down on his knees on a dirty sidewalk in the rain. He places his phone on the ground beside him, raising his hands in a praying gesture and looking up at you with the most dramatic set of puppy dog eyes you ever did see.

Gojo sees you disappear, and the call ends, the look on his face contorting to one of defeat. He groans, holding his head in his hands and shaking it. Stupid, he thought, how stupid of him to think you’d hear him out, stupid of him to think you still cared after what he’d done. Mildly embarrassed at his current position, he picks up his phone next to him and places it in his pocket. He’s about to stand when he hears the bell chime from your apartment's intercom, followed by your voice: “Come on up. Doors open.”

Gojo doesn’t need to be told twice; he jumps up and runs through the door like a giddy child on Christmas morning. He doesn’t bother waiting for the elevator, sprinting up multiple flights of stairs, and almost skidding past your door in an attempt to stop himself. Bursting through the door with a stupid lob-sided grin on his face, he opens out his arms and beams, "Honey, I’m home!”

He’s met with you scowling at him from the couch, an unimpressed look on your face while you roll your eyes and emit an exasperated sigh, “Hi Gojo.”

Satoru blows the damp locks from his eyes, clearing his throat and wiping that stupid smile from his face, replacing it with the look of a child who’s been scolded: "Sorry, I uh-hey.” He rubs the back of his head, planting himself on the couch next to you, and feels a tinge (more like an avalanche) of hurt when you scoot a little further away from him.

“Are you going to tell me what you want?” He hears the question, but it hardly registers. Gojo’s captivated by the cute pyjamas you’re wearing, your hair being slightly ruffled from being in bed, the smell of your apartment, and how it feels like home. He comes back to Earth when he hears you say his name impatiently, clearing his throat and then regaining his composure.

“Would it not be enough for me to just say I missed your company?” He asks with a toothy smile, desperately attempting to avoid finally addressing his emotions. Gojo sees the way your shoulders drop in annoyance, shaking your head and crossing your arms. He misses the way you used to look at him, eyes full of adoration and laughter at his goofy jokes. It felt like a million years ago, but not long ago at all. Time had been blurred for Saturo since the demise of your relationship.

“If you don’t start talking in the next five seconds, I’m kicking your ass out.”

“Fuck, fine, okay, shit.” He fumbles with his words, running a hand through his hair and sighing. Smooth talker Satoru was gone; this was uncharted territory for him. Looking at the ground, he scratches at the back of his neck and mumbles out a low, "I, uh, wanted to apologise.”

“Oh really? ”You raise a brow, clearly unconvinced, as you tilt your head towards him, an accusatory squint in your eyes. Gojo clicks his tongue; his half-arsed apology clearly wouldn’t do.

"Yeah, I…well, I,” Searching for the words, he wracks his brain for exactly what to say; he couldn’t exactly just confess his undying love for you. No, Gojo needed to explain what the fuck had happened that night. “I feel really bad about the way things ended, you know? You didn’t deserve that, and I-“

"Well, it’s too late.”

Gojo’s mouth runs dry, his heart lurching into his throat. “What do you mean it’s too late?” Panic consumes him, and he’s unable to hide it from his expression—eyes widening, brows shooting up, and his lip practically quivering. “Is there someone else? Have you got a boyfriend? That’s weird because I’ve been kind of keeping tags on you, and I haven’t heard anything about a new-“

“Gojo, I’m not seeing anyone.” You try to ignore his ramblings and admittance to borderline stalking. “But that’s irrelevant; you hurt me, probably more than any guy has... You know I would’ve expected it from anyone else, but not you.” Your voice breaks a little, fighting the waterworks that are threatening to run down your cheeks. “I guess I thought you were different.”

Gojo’s heart splinters, his grip on the arm of the sofa tightening like a vice. His hands begin to shake, and your television turns to static, his powers only growing stronger under the intense emotions he’s emitting. He looks down at the ground, a look of shame falling over his features as he runs a hand over his face. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

"Well, Gojo, you did. A fucking lot, actually.” You scoff sarcastically, shaking your head in disbelief. He flinches at your words, and you continue with a sigh, “It’s okay that you didn’t love me like I loved you; that isn’t your fault. What was your fault? You were not being truthful with me from the start about what sort of relationship we had.”

“It hurts when you call me Gojo,” is all he can say. He wants to slap himself; why was it so hard for him to tell you the truth? You were pouring your heart out to him, and that was his response? Fuck, he thinks, you’re an asshole, Satoru.

"Well, Gojo, I’m glad I’m not the only one who’s hurt.” You stand, ignoring his worried gaze, as you make your way over to the door. Your backs to him as you exhale exhaustively, if not a little sad. You lean forward, resting your forehead against the door. “You should leave Gojo; I can’t. I can’t do this right now.”

You don’t hear him dart up from your sofa, moving inhumanly fast towards you. Gojo’s really panicking now; he has no intention of leaving as he grabs you by the shoulders and spins you around. Your eyes meet, and it’s as if a current runs between the two of you, ebbing the small gap now separating your bodies. The lights go out in your apartment, and you just know it’s Gojo, with a strange look in his eyes as he struggles to contain both his powers and the strength he’s withholding from his grasp. He cages you against the door, hands planted on either side of your head, and lips dangerously close to yours. Gojo searches your eyes and ushers out a desperate, hurried whisper of your name, followed by, “I love you.”

Everything stills, a thick silence surrounding the two of you. You can’t quite believe your ears, convinced this is some sort of sick joke. “You what?”

Gojo’s eyes go slightly dewy, a somewhat defeated look to his gaze as he shifts, so he’s holding your face in his hands, pressing his forehead against yours. “I love you. I love you so fucking much I can’t stand it. You’re… You’re everything. Please don’t make me leave, please.”

“B..But…” You’re so confused, barely grasping what he’s saying to you. He looks so earnest, his eyes burning into you as he waits for a reply, but how can you trust him? His slender fingers softly rub your cheek where he holds you, so gentle and loving that it’s nauseating. “Then why?”

“Why did I do it?” He hums, his voice so low that it sounds distant. There’s a level of nonchalance to his tone; instead, he’s enraptured and hypnotised by the proximity of you both; he’s dazed as he drawls a quiet, “Because you’re weak.” Gojo’s pulled out of his daze by the hurt painting your features as you look away, the way you’ve attempted to jolt away from his touch as if he’s burned you.

“No, no, you don’t understand. Shit, sorry. That came out wrong. I'm not good at this, feelings and shit.” He still hasn’t let go of you; your faces are mere inches from each other; he couldn’t even if he wanted to. Gojo’s an addict for you; drunk off of your presence alone, he’d gone without you for too long, craving you for months. He tilts his head to the side, gently moving your face back towards his and clearing his throat.

“What I mean is that you’re important to me—more important than you could ever imagine. But to bring you into my world would be reckless and foolish; it would be a fucking death sentence. I’m the strongest sorcerer of our generation; no one dares to fuck with me, but you know who they could fuck with to hurt me.” A look of understanding and a little fear come over you, and you let out a shaky breath.

He smiles sadly, “You.”

One of your hands snakes up to his chest, moving softly over the ridges of his muscles beneath the shirt. You can feel the beat of his heart, the erratic thudding matching your own. “Then why are you here?”

He blinks slowly, the hands holding your cheeks gently trailing to hold your jaw so softly that you feel like his most prized possession. “Because I’m selfish. Because I want you despite the consequences.“ Gojo closes the small space separating your faces, licking his lips before his eyes dart to your mouth, entranced by the thought of it against his own again, finally saying, “Because I can’t stay away from you anymore.”

Gojo’s nose brushes against yours, those ocean-like eyes begging you for permission. You couldn’t refuse him now; you never could. The hand resting on his chest snakes up to his shoulder, tugging him ever so slightly to show him and tell him, yes.

A small smile hints at his lips before his mouth touches yours, relief surging through you both at the contact. Gojo holds your face tenderly, kissing you as if you’d break apart before him. He takes his time, gently nibbling at your lips and kissing you almost innocently while his fingers caress your jaw. He hums contentedly, pressing himself into you and craning his neck down to get a better angle. Towering over you, one of his hands trails down to your waist, his soft hands drawing circles on the skin of your stomach.

Gojo savours every touch of your lips against his, flitting his tongue against your lower lip, seeking entrance and sighing when your mouth opens. His tongue dances around yours expertly, tasting you as if you were ambrosia; he was a man starved, savouring every flick of your pink muscle against his.

Gojo deepens the kiss a little, pressing his hips flush against yours. He groans low in his chest when your hands tug at his hair softly, taking your tongue into his mouth and sucking erotically. It sends a wave of pleasure down to your core, and you gasp softly, moaning a soft “Toru.”

You feel Gojo pull away a little, panicking slightly, until you see the look on his face. His eyes are blown wide and glittering in the darkness like stars. His jaw is taut as if he’s grinding his teeth, and his cheekbones are protruding even more than usual. A streetlight outside fizzles and explodes at the same time one of his eyes twitch; he’s breathing heavily, chest heaving.

“Again,” he commands darkly, an air to his tone that personifies his true power; it was as if his voice reverberated around your brain, low and dominating.

It had been far too long since he had heard his name on your sweet lips; the result had his brain short-circuiting. He wanted to hear it again—in your moans, your whispers, and your screams. Gojo feels an ache between his thighs, an insatiable ache that only you can rid him of.

“Toru,” you murmur, looking up at him with your big doe eyes and swollen mouth. A growl festers in his throat, pushing you up against the door and leaning down to nibble at your neck, sucking and biting, leaving his mark.

“Again,” he repeats, his face buried in your skin as he litters your skin with purple marks. Taking his onslaught downwards to your chest, nipping at your collar bones. Gojo’s mind is hazy with you—the need to take you, the need to love you, the need to ruin you, the need to keep you by his side for eternity—or else he swears he’d unleash an untold wrath on this godforsaken planet.

“Toru,” His name leaves your lips again as his lips cascade down, his fingers hooking the hem of your pyjama top so your breasts are free from their confines. He whines at the sight, his hips buckling as you feel his warm, wet mouth around your nipple. Swirling his tongue around the bud, his slender fingers toy with the one unoccupied by his lips, revelling in the throaty gasps that leave you when he tugs teasingly.

“I missed you so much,” Satoru drawls as he slowly gets to his knees. He’s looking up at you with so much adoration, as if you hung the moon from the very sky above the two of you. There’s a softness to his gaze that you’d missed; the formidable six eyes was nothing but ‘Toru’ to you; you hardly understood the Jujutsu world. That’s what made you so special to Gojo; you saw him as human, unaware of how far from that he was.

He tugs down your shorts, watching your face closely for any signs of discomfort. When he’s met with only that needy, eager look in your eyes, he chuckles a little. Your shorts hit the floor, and Gojo licks his lips, a breathy exhale emitting from him. You’re bare before him, and he can hardly contain his excitement to taste you again. His nose nudges the inside of your thigh, planting painfully gentle kisses around the skin. Gojo’s lips worship everywhere but your pussy, teasingly torturing you until you’re whimpering above him. He grins when your hands lace in his hair, attempting and failing to push him closer to your core.

“One more time for me, baby,” Satoru mutters, licking a lewd stripe up your thigh and maintaining direct eye contact with you as he does so. “Say my name.”

“Toru, please,” Your sweet little voice, begging for him, snaps something inside Gojo. His mouth latches on your clit , a strained growl tearing through his chest at the taste of you on his tongue. Pretty blue eyes rolling back, Satoru feeds on you like a man starved, your essence dripping down his chin while he works your pussy like the God he is. Two fingers push inside of you as his tongue stays focused on your bud, your mind in a daze as whimpers and cries leave you.

He curls them perfectly, hitting your sweet spot and having your knees buckle above him. His free hand holds you up effortlessly against the door, as if you were a mere feather in his grasp, while he ravenously feasts between your legs. He’s groaning into you, creating a delicious vibration that has you seeing stars.

“Taste so fucking good.” His voice is muffled, sputtering out amongst your wetness. You can feel it seeping down your thighs, too lost in the pleasure to feel coy as you begin to rut against his mouth. He practically whines, loving the feeling of you humping your cunt against his plump lips.

Gojo knows you’re getting close when he feels you tightening around his fingers, increasing his speed and the pressure with which he’s sucking on your clit. His snowy locks bounce up and down below you at his movements, azure eyes fluttering shut as his full focus is centred on bringing you to your peak.

It doesn’t take long before you're thrown over the edge, crying out something unintelligible, and your body goes slack. Gojo coaxes you through it, his movements slowing but not ceasing as you ride out your high. He bundles you into his arms, and you hardly notice you’re so lost in euphoria, carrying you effortlessly to the bedroom and lying you on the bed below him.

He stands above you, towering over you as he pulls his shirt over his head, a cocky grin on his lips when he sees your eyes practically meld to the shape of hearts. His abdominal muscles are shadowed in the light of the moon; a figure of pure excellence stands before you. He puts those marbled Greek gods to shame, with milky skin melded over a body of pure strength and agility. You wonder if he was crafted by the gods themselves, but that thought quickly disappears when he strips himself of his trousers, your mind going blank when you see the bulge in his boxers.

Gojo smirks, reading your mind. “Nothing on you, babe,” he chimes, ridding himself of his underwear and palming himself, looking down at you hungrily. You pull your top above your head, throwing it to the ground, and sit up on your elbows, parting your legs as a shy smile spreads across your lips.

Carefully, he lies on top of you, a hand coming to stroke at your cheek. “Before I fuck you, I want to make one thing very clear, okay?” You feel his cock rubbing against your cunt, up and down, lubricating himself with your slicks. He bites back a moan at the feeling, swallowing audibly before continuing, “You’re mine now; you’re bound to me. I love you.” He tilts his head, a dangerous look crossing his features. “But I’ve missed this pretty pussy too fucking much, so forgive me for what I’m about to do.”

He slams into you without warning, all the way to the hilt. Throwing back his head and groaning, he lets out an almost maniacal laugh before biting his lip. His gaze returns to you, a maddened look in his eyes as he begins to piston in out of you with inhuman strength. You’re left with no time to accommodate his insanely long cock, a silent scream leaving your lips as ecstasy consumes you. He’s watching you with an open-mouthed, slaw-jacked grin and a feral look to his usually perfect features. Satoru holds you by the waist, effortlessly pulling you to meet each one of his thrusts like you weighed nothing more than a doll. Unabashed moans leave his lips, rutting into you with so much force that the headboard is lodging itself into your bedroom wall.

“Sorry baby, fucking need this so bad.” He groans, pulling one of your thighs to rest on his shoulder and trickling tender kisses down your calf. “Don’t know what I was thinking, shit ah—should've never left you, should’ve never fucking left you. No one turns me on like you do, baby, no one.” Satoru’s rambling, dazed, and brain reduced to mush as he loses himself to his insatiable lust. You’re loving every second, craving what he’s giving you; it’s been too long, too long for a slow and sensuous fuck. No, you needed this; you needed him to show you how much he wanted you.

“See what you do to me, baby?” He coos, his hips somehow moving both faster and harder as he tilts his head down at you like he’s some sort of predator. “Turn me into a fucking animal—fuckkk—I can’t control myself around you, pretty girl.”

“Toruuuu,” You mewl, your back arching off of the bed as your legs begin to shake. He snarls at his name falling from your lips so lewdly, his cock throbbing inside of you. Satoru snakes his hand to your clit, rubbing quick circles onto the bud as his relentless pace doesn’t let up.

"God, you’re so fucking cute.” He practically chokes on his words, feeling his own orgasm grow dangerously close. His tongue flits out to lick his lips before he leans down, his mouth merging with your own filthily, all spit and teeth as he whines into your mouth.

You start tightening around him, and he cries out, shaking his head and groaning into your lips, “Hold on for me, baby; I want you to come with me. I'm so fucking close, just fucking-." Gojo cuts himself off and sits up, hands gripping your hips, while he begins to truly ruin your core. It’s so messy—your slick coating his cock and balls, dripping down your thighs and onto the sheets. The room smells like sex; the sounds that fill it enough to make a woman of the night blush. “Ah baby, shit shit, that’s it, cum for me, baby, gonna fill you up, yesyesyesyes.”

The two of you reach your peak together, with you crying out his name and Satoru whining above you. His hips stutter as he paints your insides white, rope after rope filling you up. Satoru’s forehead drops to yours, both of you breathing heavily and grasping at each other like your lives depended on it.

After a few moments, Gojo rolls beside you and lies facing you as he peppers your face with kisses. His demeanour completely contradicts the one from a few minutes ago; he’s soft, giddy, and playful. There’s so much love in his gaze, making up for every peck he’s missed out on these last few months as his lips press against every part of your pretty little face.

“Soooo girlfriend,” Gojo chimes after a while of pestering you with his affections, playing with a piece of your hair as a playful smirk paints his features. “Tell me how much you missed me.”

[elliaze]

Don't take my love away | j. velaryon

Warnings: spoiler! for the book, HEAVY!angst, twincest (let's be honest they are targaryen), their age has been changed, mention of sex (nothing descriptive), inspiration from Billie Eillish - CHIHIRO

Word Count: +1900

MASTERLIST

She remembered their first kiss. 

Innocent, because it was both their first time doing it.

Forbidden, because they shouldn't do it.

Jace was her twin brother. He was born just a few minutes after her. They were always together.

Maybe that was why it seemed inevitable. Or maybe that night, when they were both two–and–ten and fought with Aemond, they needed each other more than usual. 

Which wasn't true, because they had spent every moment together for years. 

Maybe it was the emotions that were running through them. Certainly hers, because even though the stealing of Vhagar was behind them, the maesters had dressed the wound on Jace's head and the one she had on her forehead, the adrenaline was still pumping through them. 

She remembered that they had both escorted Lucerys to his chambers and waited until their younger brother had fallen asleep from exhaustion. That evening – or even that morning – they both said Luce had been incredibly brave in standing up for them and taking Aemond's eye. They had also known that, as his older siblings, they should have been defending him, not the other way. They both felt a pang of guilt, and maybe that was the reason they had kissed.

She remembered that when they had finally reached Jacaerys's chambers, he had kept saying that he should have been faster, braver, more observant. He panicked, and she was afraid her brother wouldn't be able to control his breathing.

And then she kissed him. It had been a completely innocent kiss, but it had also been a confirmation that they meant so much more to each other than mere siblings.

She remembered his first touch. One where he touched her like a man could touch a woman.

They were six–and–ten, and the whole act seemed uncertain, even awkward. They didn't know what they were doing, and all they thought about was being as close to each other as possible.

This time, it wasn't just emotions that influenced it. They were completely aware of what they were doing and didn't think for a moment about stopping it. 

They wanted each other, their kisses and touch.

They didn't care about the consequences, or that they shouldn’t have done it. They both knew that sooner or later they would be forced to marry someone neither of them loved, and they shouldn't get so attached to each other when it was only a matter of time before they had to part ways.

But they couldn't stop. 

The thought of not being by each other's side was destroying their hearts to the core.

She remembered the first I love you he said to her, not as a brother, but as a man.

It was the day their mother found out about their forbidden affair and she couldn't do anything else but announce that they would get married. That evening, Jace came to her chamber, or rather rushed inside. She was sitting nervously in front of her mirror and combing her hair, when the sound of the door opening made her turn around.

“Jace…” she started, but he was quickly at her side. He grabbed her by the shoulders, lifting her up, and then placed his hands on her cheeks. “What are you doing?"”

“I just wanted you to know how much I love you,” he confessed as honestly as she had never heard it. She felt as if her whole insides were melting under the influence of his words, as well as his gaze full of love and devotion. “You are my whole world. My life. Without you, there is no me. I love you like nothing else. I love you more than I love myself. You are the only one. You will always be.”

She had tears in her eyes when she heard his words, and at the same time she was unable to stop the charming smile and the blush that spread across her cheeks. She was happy and finally understood all those love stories she had read. In books, the couple in love were never related to each other, but in their case, she thought that it only worked in their favour.

It was inevitable.

“I love you too, Jacaerys. And I don't want to live without you. You’re everything I have and what matters to me. Our hearts are connected forever.” She confessed a moment before she connected their lips.

The kiss was calm at first, as if she just wanted to confirm her words with it. However, it quickly turned into a hot, lustful one. Her hands quickly landed in his curls, and his lifted her nightgown to her waist and stopped at her completely exposed thighs and hips. Jace lifted her up and led them to her bed. He laid her on the satin sheets, joining her immediately.

This time they knew exactly what they were doing. They both knew their bodies and knew how to extract the sweetest sounds of pleasure from each other. Their hands were clasped together the whole time, as if to make sure that it was real. She felt shivers every time he kissed her body, and Jace did not hold back to show her that everything she did was the sweetest pleasure for him.

When he entered her, their eyes met and they both connected their lips in a thirsty kiss. Their bodies moved in complete sync, as if this was what they were made for – to be together in the most intimate way possible, the closest they could be. She saw stars in her eyes, and when she came with his name on her lips, and Jace right after her, she thought this was exactly what she wanted. 

A future with Jacaerys. 

She saw them together, their children, and the whole happy, long life that lay ahead of them.

But that future didn't include them being embroiled in a bloody war. The Dance of the Dragons, they called it.

From the very beginning, they had to deal with the loss of loved ones. Lucerys, Rhaenys... Death came to them one by one, and both feared that it would eventually come for them. But every time it didn't, the fear was still there. Maybe it was their stupid luck that kept them alive. Or – as she liked to say – this world wouldn't be able to accept their deaths. They had to live because they loved each other so much that they wouldn't be able to survive without the other.

And she was rarely wrong.

And yet, this time she was.

The Battle of the Gullet was completely chaotic. The Velaryon fleet was fighting against the Triarchy with exceptional ferocity. But she didn't pay attention to which side had the upper hand at the moment. Her only goal was to find Jacaerys and Vermax. 

She didn't think she should even be there. Even though Vermithor, who had been her companion for many years, burned every enemy ship to ashes, giving the Velaryon fleet a slight advantage, all she could do was look around for the sight of the familiar dragon and its rider.

She remembered how the four of them had gone for rides many times. The young Vermax had always been relatively witty and ready to have fun with Vermithor. The old dragon might seem to ignore his younger brethren, but in the end, the two were very much bonded, in the same way as their riders.

Finally, she spotted Vermax, and somewhere on his back sat Jacaerys. Bolts and arrows flew towards them, and her heart was pounding as she realised that Jacaerys was too low and much more vulnerable to attack. She needed to do everything she could to protect them together with Vermithor, not even caring about her own safety.

However, she was unable to stop the bolts that hit Vermax. The dragon let out a terrible scream and began to fall down with its rider.

“JACE!” She screamed in horror. Her eyes misted and tears filled, and at that moment Vermithor was responsible for what had to be done. He fell down after the dead dragon, and all she could see was Vermax's body falling into the water. 

"We have to find him" she said to the dragon and Vermithor just screamed loudly and breathed fire that consumed one of the enemy ships. They circled for a while looking for Jacaerys until she finally managed to spot him on the beach not far from the fight. She could hear the sounds of battle clearly, so when she saw Jace standing on his own two feet, she knew she had to get him out of there as soon as possible before someone realised he was still alive.

Vermithor landed hard on the beach, and she slid down on his wing and ran to her brother. 

Jace was weak and wet. She also noticed an arrow in his arm, but the wound didn't seem serious enough to prevent them from escaping together.

“Y/N” she didn't hear him say her name, but she saw his lips moving. 

Jace breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that she was okay, and she did everything to get to him as quickly as possible. 

They were only a few metres away. 

A few steps away and then she would be able to take him in her arms and save him.

However, fate can be cruel. It takes away what we love without warning.

Neither she nor Jace noticed the arrow that was shot straight into his back. Jace stopped mid–step and staggered on his feet, and she had the impression that he was experiencing some worst nightmare. However, she didn't give up and still believed that they had a chance to survive. That she would manage to save him and get him to Dragonstone, where the maester would heal every wound on his body. 

There was still a chance. 

She believed in it with every fiber of her being, because if she lost him, she would die with him.

She was almost there when another arrow whistled. Jace watched her as she approached, as if he knew what was about to happen. 

There was no other thought in his head but her.

They had come into the world together. And she was also supposed to be there when he was about to leave it.

“Y/N” he ​​said to her before the last arrow hit his neck.

Jace fell, and she caught him in her arms at the last moment.

“Jace?” She whispered nervously, her voice breaking. “Jaecerys, wake up!” She touched his face, and his skin was still hot, just like it was always when she touched her. Hot dragon blood. “Jace, I beg you. I can’t live in a world without you.”

Her prayers were in vain, and when she kissed him for the last time, he was already dead.

She remembered their first kiss, touch, and declaration of love.

But she never wanted to remember the last time she tasted his lips, how he looked at her with love and told her he loved her. Their story had no right to end in such a drastic way.

They were only twenty. Their whole lives ahead of them. They deserved more time. 

They were supposed to be king and queen after they helped their mother get back what was rightfully hers. 

He had no right to die in front of her, and above all, to leave her alone in this cruel world.

She never believed in gods, but if one of them stood before her and asked her what she wanted, her answer would be only one.

Don’t take my love away from me.

She didn’t want to stay in this world when he was gone.

[writerinloves-blog]

In the Gardens - Kit Tanthalos x Reader

Request? : Yes! I hope I've made justice to their request.

i was hoping you could write something with kit, like about her and the reader being in a secret relationship (bc of the times ofc) and queen sorsha finding out?

Word count: 5,015

It all began with jealousy.

 When Jade started talking to Kit about a new friend she had made in the village, Kit couldn't admit it, but she felt a twinge of annoyance. Things took a turn for the worse when Jade started cutting short their training sessions to spend more time with this new girl. Jade was Kit's best friend, exclusively hers. Kit didn't even know this new girl, but she was convinced she must be annoying or something, although she couldn't pinpoint exactly what bothered her about her.

Kit was well aware that, as a princess, she had the power to make Jade train longer with her. However, she understood the moral implications of such an action, so she kept her feelings in check, quietly resenting this unknown girl without ever getting to know her.

Until one fateful day.

Kit found herself on the training grounds, waiting for Jade who was running late. Frustrated, Kit began practicing her moves on a wooden dummy. Lost in her training, she was jolted back to reality by a voice.

"Wow, you're really good," the voice remarked. Kit turned to see a stranger standing there, eyes filled with genuine admiration.

"Ah-ah- thank you," Kit managed to say, caught off guard. Her response elicited a warm smile from the stranger, a smile that Kit found genuinely sweet.

As Kit's mind slowly started working again, she realized she had never seen this person before. They stood there, in a silent understanding. Gathering her courage, Kit blurted out, "I'm Kit!" perhaps louder than she intended.

The stranger returned her smile, about to introduce themselves when a familiar voice interrupted them. Both Kit and the stranger turned to see Jade hurrying toward them, her face radiating excitement.

"You came!" Jade exclaimed, hugging the stranger tightly. Kit was utterly confused. "Do you guys know each other?" she asked, unable to hide her curiosity.

"Yeah, this is my new friend I was telling you about," Jade said, her smile wide, mirroring the one on the stranger's face.

Kit was most definitely not expecting that.

For two months, you attended almost every training session that Kit and Jade had. Despite Kit's initial attempts to deny it, she found herself enjoying your company, perhaps a little more than she should have. Knowing that you were observing her during training motivated her to push herself harder, and she felt a surge of pride every time you clapped for her victories over Jade.

When Jade's birthday finally arrived, the three of you had dinner in the castle, a request made by Kit. That night, at your suggestion, they all dressed semi-formally. Both Kit and Jade opted for semi-formal attire, eschewing dresses, a choice that made them burst into laughter when they saw each other

You arrived last, and upon seeing you, Kit froze in place. When you approached to greet her, after wishing Jade a happy birthday, Kit couldn't help but feel her heart racing. She was astounded by how beautiful you looked in your blue dress, adorned with ribbons in your hair. It was in that moment that Kit realized something had changed within her during this past month.

Throughout dinner, the three of you shared laughter and jokes, and every time you touched Kit's arm, she felt a jolt of electricity run through her. After the meal, you all decided to take a leisurely walk around the castle grounds to continue your conversation.

Sometime later, Ballentine approached Jade and asked for a moment, prompting Jade to bid her goodbyes and leave. This turn of events left Kit and you alone together.

"Maybe I should go too," you said in a soft tone.

"You could stay a little longer," Kit replied, her voice shy. You nodded with a sweet smile, and in that moment, as you continued your walk under the moonlit sky, Kit felt something stirring inside her, something that went beyond mere friendship.

You two fit perfectly. Eventually, you ended up in the garden, pausing to gaze at the stars. While you were awe-struck by the celestial display above, Kit's eyes were fixed solely on you. In her eyes, amidst the enchanting flowers and the moonlit night, you outshone everything else in the garden. Overwhelmed by her emotions, Kit could no longer contain her feelings.

"I think we have a problem," Kit blurted out hurriedly, causing worry to bubble inside you. "What? What is it?" you asked, concern etched on your face.

"Turns out that I don't hate you," Kit began, her words rushed. "At all... not one bit."

"I do not understand. What are you trying to say, Kit?" you replied in a hushed tone. Kit approached you, now standing directly in front of you.

"Turns out that I actually like you..." Kit confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. "And I don't know what to do with all of this that I am feeling." With those words, she brushed her hand against yours, her touch tender. She then gently kissed your hand, leaving you both exhilarated and perplexed.

A whirlwind of emotions swirled inside you, rendering you momentarily speechless. Kit looked at you with anticipation, her brilliant blue eyes searching yours for a response. In that moment, you realized the depth of your feelings for the girl standing before you. Determination filled you, and you took a step closer, your hand caressing Kit's face. You wore a sweet smile, silently asking a question that hung between you.

Kit nodded in response, her own emotions mirrored in her eyes. You closed the gap between you, your lips meeting hers in a tender, electrifying kiss. The world around you seemed to fade away, and Kit responded by moving her hands to your face, pulling you closer. She couldn't believe what was transpiring, but in that moment, all she wanted was to feel you near.

After a few blissful seconds, you both pulled back, gasping for air, yet radiating joy. "I like you too, just in case you didn't get the memo," you teased, a playful tone in your voice.

Kit made an affirmative sound, a mix of contentment and amusement. "Good to know," she said before leaning in to kiss you once again, sealing the newfound connection between your hearts.

The next day, you didn't attend Kit and Jade's training session. However, Kit showed up wearing the ribbon that you had worn the previous night, wrapped around her wrist. Jade immediately noticed this, causing her to smile broadly.

"I thought you hated ribbons," Jade teased Kit.

Kit felt a wave of nervousness wash over her. "Yeah, I just thought this one was nice," she stammered, to which Jade playfully rolled her eyes.

"So, good to know that I'm officially the third wheel," Jade remarked, a smile on her face as she started preparing for the session.

This statement caught Kit off guard. "What? She told you?" Kit asked, excitement evident in her voice. Jade seized this moment of distraction to begin the session, leaving Kit caught off-guard.

"Of course she did," Jade replied, finishing her sentence. With one last dreamy smile, Kit started training too, the revelation of her newfound feelings adding an extra layer of motivation to her movements.

In the days that followed, a secret romance blossomed between you and Kit. It was a delicate dance of stolen glances and hidden touches, a love story meant to remain hidden from the world. Yet, the joy that radiated from both of you was undeniable.

Your clandestine meetings became precious moments, tucked away in the secluded corners of the castle gardens or in the quiet corridors of the palace. Every stolen kiss, every shared secret, felt like a treasure, something too beautiful and fragile to be exposed to the harsh light of day.

Despite the secrecy, your relationship was an anchor for both of you. In a world where duties and expectations weighed heavily on her shoulders, the love you shared became a sanctuary. Your laughter filled the empty spaces, and your whispered words of affection drowned out the noise of the world around you.

Kit was enraptured by the simple joy of stealing your ribbons whenever you wore one. To her, each ribbon became a tangible reminder of your presence, a way to feel connected even when you weren't near. When you questioned her about this habit, she looked into your eyes with sincerity.

"To feel you close when you aren't near," Kit confessed, her voice filled with vulnerability and affection. Those words hung in the air, encapsulating the depth of her feelings for you.

In the quiet nights when the moon bathed the castle grounds in its silvery glow, Kit often found herself marveling at the serendipity that had brought you into her life. She couldn't believe how fortunate she was to have you by her side, your laughter becoming the melody that filled her heart.

Six months had passed since the beginning of your relationship, a secret love that had flourished behind the castle's stone walls. One day, with Jade's assistance, you managed to sneak into the castle and found your way into Kit's room. There, in the soft glow of candlelight, you sat on her lap, your lips dancing together in sweet kisses, punctuated by soft giggles.

You peppered Kit's face with kisses, causing her to laugh joyfully. As you drew near her ear, you whispered, "I am so lucky to have you." Your words sent a shiver down Kit's spine.

"You don't even know what you do to me," Kit replied, her voice filled with longing, as she gently caressed your face.

With a swift move, Kit took hold of your waist and shifted positions so that both of you were now sitting. She leaned in to capture your lips in a passionate kiss, losing herself in the sweet taste of your affection.

Amidst the stolen moments of intimacy, you paused to share some news. "I've got a job," you revealed, your words met with a kiss on your cheek from Kit.

"What?" Kit asked in confusion, her heart sinking at the thought of potentially seeing you less. "Why?" She moved back slightly, her worry apparent.

"Well, my parents thought it was time for me to get a job, but don't worry," you reassured her, gently cupping her face to plant a tender kiss on her lips. "I'll be working here, in the castle. Yes, I'll have to cook meals, but I'll see you more often," you said with a warm smile.

"Really? Why would you do that? It's very hard work. I could have gone to see you wherever you were," Kit expressed, her hand finding yours.

"I did it for us," you replied, your eyes sparkling with determination.

Kit felt like her heart might burst with emotion. In that moment, every part of her longed to tell you what she already knew. She mustered up the courage to speak but was interrupted by Jade's voice from the other side of the door.

"Time's up, lovebirds," Jade called out, breaking the spell.

You shared a laugh, then planted a soft kiss on Kit's lips. "You'll tell me later, Kit," you said as you reached for your shoes, preparing to leave.

Before you could step away, Kit gently grabbed your hand, pulling you back towards her. In the dim light of her room, she leaned in, pressing her lips to yours in a lingering kiss, a silent promise of the words she couldn't quite voice yet. The moment hung between you, filled with unspoken emotions, before you finally pulled away, your heart echoing Kit's unspoken affection.

With a tender smile, you whispered, "Goodnight, Kit," before slipping out of her room, your heart brimming with the love that had grown between you both, even in the quiet secrecy of the castle's halls.

You began working at the castle, and if Kit were being honest, she truly loved all the extra time she got to spend with you. Every stolen glance during meals, every gentle touch, and every moment your hands brushed against each other only deepened her affection. Kit cherished the nights when she showed you the secret spots in the castle, relishing every single second spent in your company. In those stolen moments, amidst the whispers of ancient stones, Kit found a happiness that felt like a treasure, one she wanted to hold onto for a lifetime.

This particular day, Kit woke up with an unusual sense of excitement. She and you had planned a little date night in the castle gardens, and Kit was determined to make everything perfect. She had even made arrangements to ask Jade for help in gathering candles and preparing food for the evening.

As Kit got ready for the day, her excitement grew. Breakfast time was always a bittersweet moment for her, as it was when you served her breakfast. Kit hated the fact that you needed to do that, but at the same time, she cherished the opportunity to brush her hand against yours and share secret smiles, hidden from her mother's watchful eyes.

Entering the breakfast room, Kit greeted her brother and her mother, but her attention was entirely consumed by thoughts of you. She couldn't help but admire how your hair looked that day, how the ribbon you wore matched the one she had chosen for her wrist. Every detail of your appearance seemed to captivate her, and she eagerly anticipated the moments they would share after breakfast.

"Kit! Were you listening to me?" her mother's voice broke through her thoughts.

"No, sorry, Mother," Kit replied, her gaze briefly shifting away from you. You returned from the kitchen with a fresh tray of food, wearing a small, warm smile that momentarily eased Kit's unease.

"I wanted to talk to you about something important," her mother continued.

Kit grabbed a muffin, taking a bite while trying to maintain her composure. "Okay, what is it?" she asked, noticing you making your way back to the kitchen with the tray.

"You are to be engaged to marry Prince Graydon of Galladoorn..." The sound of a tray clattering against the floor cut off the queen's words.

"Oh! I am so sorry, Your Majesty," you stammered, quickly kneeling down to clean the mess. Kit wished she could stand up and assist you, but she felt rooted to her seat, her breath catching in her throat. This couldn't be happening. She couldn't marry anyone else, especially when the person she truly wanted to be with was you. She turned her head to look at you and saw a tear streaming down your cheek.

Once you had retreated to the kitchen, Kit found her voice. "What? Mother, no. Please, I beg you!" she pleaded, desperation lacing her words.

"It is your duty to your kingdom, Kit!" her mother declared. "The meeting to sign the alliance is next week, and by then, I expect a change of attitude," she finished, rising from the table and leaving only Kit and her brother. Airk hurriedly approached Kit and embraced her tightly. In that moment, Kit finally allowed herself to cry. Her whole world seemed to be crumbling into pieces, and the weight of her responsibilities bore down on her shoulders like a crushing burden. The prospect of a future without you felt unbearable, and Kit clung to her brother, seeking solace in his comforting embrace as she wept for the love she feared she might lose.

The rest of the day proved to be a torturous ordeal for Kit. She wandered aimlessly through the castle, desperately searching for you. She even ventured into the kitchens, hoping to find a trace of your presence. Instead, a blonde girl informed her that she hadn't seen you since breakfast. Disappointed and increasingly worried, Kit's optimism began to wane. Even though she hadn't been able to plan the date the way she had envisioned, a small glimmer of hope persisted. Perhaps you would still show up.

As the hours passed, that hope gradually ebbed away, replaced by a sinking feeling in Kit's chest. The first hour of waiting felt like an eternity, but as the second hour ticked by, her optimism turned into a painful realization. Yet, Kit made the decision to stay, clinging to the possibility that you might still come.

She waited in the gardens, her heart heavy with anticipation. The night passed, and Kit remained there, alone and deserted. You never appeared. Deep down, she understood why you hadn't come, yet that understanding did little to ease the ache in her breaking heart. The night seemed endless, each passing moment a testament to the love that had been left unfulfilled, leaving Kit alone in the shadows of the garden, shattered and inconsolable.

For three agonizing days, Kit felt as if she couldn't breathe. The absence of your presence was like a suffocating weight on her chest, a relentless reminder of the love that had slipped through her fingers. Desperation gripped her heart, and she knew she had to do something about it.

"Jade, please, I need to talk to her, please," Kit pleaded, her eyes filled with raw emotion as she looked at her friend. They stood together in the training grounds, the weight of Kit's desperation heavy in the air.

"Kit, I know you do, trust me, I've tried," Jade replied, her voice filled with honesty and concern. "But she really doesn't want to see you right now."

Tears threatened to spill from Kit's eyes, her heart breaking a little more with each passing moment. "Please, I just want to tell her that I love her. She needs to know that I love her," Kit said, her voice trembling with the intensity of her feelings. She managed to contain her tears, but the pain in her eyes was unmistakable.

Jade fell into a thoughtful silence for a minute, her eyes searching Kit's face. "Go to the gardens tonight. I'll make up some excuse to get her there," Jade finally said, her voice softening with understanding.

Gratitude surged through Kit, and without a second thought, she enveloped Jade in a tight hug, a heartfelt thank you escaping her lips. There was a glimmer of hope in Kit's eyes, a fragile optimism that maybe, just maybe, she would have a chance to mend the shattered pieces of her heart.

That night, you arrived at the gardens, hoping to see Jade. She had promised to take you horseback riding, knowing that your days were occupied with work, leaving you with no time during the day for such leisure. As you spotted a figure in the garden, you called out, "Jade!" Your voice carried happiness, but as the figure turned around, you realized it wasn't her. Disappointment flooded your expression, and you turned away, ready to retreat.

"Please, wait!" Kit ran toward you, her voice carrying a tone of desperation. She grabbed your hand, her touch pleading with you to stay. "Please," she repeated, her eyes filled with an intensity that matched your own conflicting emotions.

Reluctantly, you turned around to face her. Kit looked exhausted, dark circles under her once bright eyes indicating the toll these past few days had taken on her. Yet, even in her weary state, you found her breathtaking. She reached out, gently touching your cheek, and you melted under her tender caress.

"We've got nothing to talk about, Kit," you said, your voice small, trying to push her away.

"Of course we do," she insisted, her touch soft and persuasive, inching closer to you.

"No, we don't," you replied, even as every fiber of your being yearned to kiss her, to hold her close and never let go.

"Let's just... talk," Kit suggested, moving closer, her determination etched on her face.

"Kit, you're getting married. What we had... it can't be anymore," you said, tears now freely streaming down your face.

"Don't, don't say that, please. We... we could find a way around it," Kit pleaded, her eyes searching yours for a glimmer of hope.

"We can't, Kit. It's your duty, and I understand. I knew what I was getting myself into," you whispered, pressing your forehead against hers. "And I still jumped headfirst into this... and I would do it a million times, just to have the time that we had."

It sounded like a goodbye, and Kit hated it. She knew what she wanted to say, but how could she, when it wouldn't change a thing? So, she did the only thing she could. She kissed you, savoring the bittersweet taste of your tears mingled with her own. In that moment, she tried to memorize every detail, every feeling, knowing it might be the last time.

The kiss broke, and you held each other, clinging to one another as if afraid the other might disappear. The moment was both heartbreaking and beautiful, a collision of love and loss. Kit hated the instant you let go of the hug.

"Goodbye, Kit," you said, your voice heavy with finality, and as you started to walk away, Kit didn't want to let go of your hand. But she had to. So, she watched you go, standing there in the darkness of the garden, her heart shattered and tears streaming down her face, aching for the love she was about to lose.

On her way back to her chambers, Kit couldn't stop crying. All she wanted was to lie in bed and cry until she had no tears left. However, her misery was interrupted by a stern voice slicing through the darkness.

"So, she's the reason you don't want to comply with your duties?" Kit turned around to see her mother, Queen Sorsha, staring at her with a mix of disappointment and concern etched on her face.

"I don't want to talk about it, Mom," Kit replied, her voice cracking from the weight of her emotions.

But her mother wasn't ready to let it go. She grabbed Kit's wrist firmly, demanding an explanation. "No, we are going to talk about it now," she insisted, her tone firm and unyielding.

"Fine!" Kit answered, her voice sharp with frustration.

"Is she really the reason? This... maid?" Sorsha asked, her tone dismissive and condescending.

"Don't! Don't call her that, and don't look down on her!" Kit retorted, her voice laced with determination and protectiveness.

"That's what she is, Kit. A maid. You, on the other hand, are a princess. You have duties," Queen Sorsha said, her words cutting through the air like ice.

"Don't talk about her like that. She took the job for me!" Kit said, her voice rising with a fierce intensity.

"What do you mean by that?" Sorsha inquired, her curiosity piqued.

"She took the job as a kitchen maid to be closer to me," Kit confessed, her voice almost a whisper, laden with vulnerability and despair.

Sorsha paused, her eyes studying her daughter, taking in the signs of her heartache. "How long has this been going on?" she asked, her tone softening, sensing the depth of Kit's feelings.

Kit turned around to face her mother, her eyes swollen from crying. "For over seven months," she began, her voice breaking. "But you don't have to worry about it anymore. As of tonight, there's nothing left for you to worry about," she added, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Sorsha stood there, silently watching her daughter break down. A mixture of emotions crossed her face, a realization dawning upon her. "Does this girl really mean so much to you?" she asked cautiously, moving closer to Kit.

"I love her, Mom," Kit said, her voice filled with raw emotion, her love pouring out like a waterfall breaking free from its dam. "I love her so much that every day, when I wake up, all I want to do is see her, hold her, look into those beautiful eyes, and take her to the gardens to hear her talk about her favorite flowers. I want to cherish every moment with her. I was so lucky," Kit finished, her voice barely a whisper, as she sank to the ground, crumbling under the weight of her heartbreak, tears flowing quietly once again.

Sorsha looked at her daughter, her heart breaking for the pain she saw in Kit's eyes. Deciding to approach her differently, Sorsha knelt down, attempting to reach for Kit's hand “Kit, why didn’t you tell me?” but before she could touch her, Kit moved abruptly.

"When, Mom?" Kit's voice cracked as she screamed, her pain and anger bursting forth. "And even if I did tell you, you probably would have banished her to another realm, taking her away from me! And yet, you managed to rip her away from me!" Kit's voice wavered, her eyes filled with a mix of anguish and fury as she stood up, her body trembling. With that, she turned away, heading toward her chambers, leaving Sorsha standing there, alone.

As Sorsha stood in the corridor, she felt a profound sense of loss and regret. She realized she had never given her daughter the opportunity to confide in her, to trust her. Her intentions had always been to protect Kit, but now, she had lost that trust, and her daughter's happiness had been shattered before her eyes. Witnessing her brave, beautiful daughter break down made Sorsha vow to herself that she would do anything in her power to prevent that pain from ever consuming Kit again.

She didn't even know what Airk might be hiding from her. It was time to rearrange things, to reevaluate her decisions and actions. Kit's happiness was paramount, and Sorsha was determined to make amends. It was time to change the course of their lives.

Kit dreaded waking up the next day, fully aware that everything with you was over. So she dismissed all the ladies' maids, seeking a moment of solitude. However, after a while, Kit heard her chamber door creak open again. Prepared to send the intruder away, she turned around and found her mother standing there.

"Wake up, Kit. You have a busy day ahead of you," Sorsha said with determination.

"Really? Why? Is my wedding today, and you didn't tell me?" Kit retorted sarcastically, although she complied and rose from her bed.

Her mother, seemingly unfazed by Kit's tone, observed her daughter with a knowing look. This made Kit uneasy.

"I am not getting married today, am I?" Kit asked cautiously

"No, you're not. You're going to train with the knights of Galladoorn," Sorsha informed her.

"What?" Kit asked, bewildered.

"Next month, you are set to begin your training with the knights. It will mark the first time a princess joins their ranks," Sorsha finished.

"Great, now I won't even be able to see her. I just know it!" Kit exclaimed, frustration growing within her. But Sorsha remained composed.

"With this new alliance, your engagement with Prince Graydon won't be necessary," Sorsha said, shocking Kit, who turned around to stare at her mother in disbelief.

"What? What are you trying to say, Mom?" Kit's voice quivered with hope.

"What I'm trying to say, Kit, is that you should get ready to go and tell that sweet girl, the girl who has captured my daughter's heart, that everything will be okay," Sorsha began walking toward Kit, who stood frozen in place. She reached out and gently took her daughter's hands, this time not facing rejection. "Everything will be okay because your mother loves you, Kit. And your mother is also the Queen. It might take time, but you go and tell that girl that you love her, and that I'm going to fight for you two," Sorsha concluded, and she felt Kit's arms enveloping her. It was a hug she hadn't received since Kit was a little girl.

"Thank you! Thank you! Thank you, Mom!" Kit said, practically running toward the door.

Everyone in the castle was surprised to see the princess running with a broad smile on her face, even giggling. Their shock intensified when she burst into the kitchens. But when Kit entered, she couldn't find you anywhere.

"She was sent to pick some flowers, at your mother's request," the blonde girl from last time informed her. The gardens. Of course, her mother would have sent her there.

Hope bubbled up inside her as she ran, and once she reached the gardens and saw you there, picking flowers, it felt as if she was looking at you for the first time. This time, she knew that nothing would ever come between you.

"I love you!" Kit screamed, startling you, your confusion evident.

"I don't understand, Kit," you said, your confusion clear.

"I've loved you for quite some time, and I am not losing you," she said, walking toward you. "I love you," she repeated, quieter this time.

"But you're supposed to be engaged?" you said, caution in your eyes.

"I am not engaged, and I won't be, unless it's with you," Kit said, reaching for your hand. She placed a kiss on it, sealing her promise.

"That's impossible, Kit," you said, your eyes still filled with caution.

"Not anymore. My mother is going to fight for us, for this... so if you would have me, I am all yours, and every beat of my heart belongs to you," Kit declared, determination shining in her eyes. You just kissed her; you knew you had kissed her yesterday, but that kiss had felt like a goodbye, while this kiss was a promise.

"I love you too, Kit, more than anything in this world," you said, and then you joined your lips once again.

You both stayed there, kissing in the gardens for some time, only breaking it to repeat the words "I love you." A new beginning; that's what this meant. Not just for the two of you, but for the whole realm. Everything was about to change, and you two were at the heart of it. Regardless, you had each other, and that was all you needed.

[peppermintquartz]

Continuation of this

Buck checks himself out for the tenth time in the mirror. He knows he looks good, but maybe he doesn't look right for trivia night? Dark jeans, his favorite boots, teal sweater... Maybe the sweater is the wrong top. Pulling it off and tossing it on top of the pile that's already on his bed, he grabs his phone and calls his sister.

"Maddie, tell me what to wear on a date to impress Tommy's friends." He pauses briefly. "Indoors, bar, trivia night."

It takes three agonizing seconds before Maddie answers. "The gray crew neck, paired with the rust-colored leather jacket or the brown suede, it brings out your complexion, and I want daisies as a thank you when you come by next."

"Thank you, I love you, say hi to Chim and Jee."

"Use protection!" Maddie gets one in just before Buck hangs up. He rolls his eyes at his phone but grins anyway as he tucks a condom into his back pocket. He might get lucky. He chooses the suede.

-

Tommy picks him up and kisses him sweetly, like they're about to go on a date instead of meeting Tommy's friends who are totally going to judge the hell out of Buck if he screws up Trivia Night.

"You look so good, I'm tempted to ditch them and take you someplace nice," Tommy murmurs against Buck's mouth.

"And have them say I'm a figment of your imagination? Nope. Plus, I dressed up to impress them," says Buck, smiling, giddy from his boyfriend's - boyfriend! Buck is never getting over that word - praise. "Well, Maddie helped to dress me. Wait that came out wrong. I meant, she helped to choose what I should wear. Did you know that royalty and nobility had, like, specific staff who helped to choose what they wore? The women were ladies-in-waiting and they were usually nobility, but of a lower station, and sometimes they were also available as sex partners to the king or the duke or prince or whatever. It's pretty exploitative, when you think about it..."

Buck sees Tommy's fond expression and his words taper off. Shyly, he kisses Tommy again.

"I may have gone down a few too many rabbit holes," he admits.

"That's amazing. You're amazing." Tommy smiles, and starts the car.

-

Buck is introduced to the group. Melton works at Harbor also, and immediately regales Buck with a story of how Tommy pleaded with their captain to drop him off at the hospital and won the bargain with promising to detail the engines the next few shifts.

"You did that for me?" Buck asks. "You didn't have to- Babe, you'd just fought a beast of a fire, I would've understood if you couldn't make it."

Tommy ducks his head, as if embarrassed. "Well, I promised. And the welcome was worth it."

They share a look, remembering the kiss in the lobby.

"You two are so sappy," Melton declares. "Can't believe we used to think you were cool."

"He is cool! He flew a helicopter into a hurricane. And landed on an upside-down cruise ship."

"Yeah, yeah. I still can't believe you're keeping your job after that jaunt."

Fernando, a wiry man with a bald head and a thick, curly beard, is the geography and botany expert. Jill Tan is their science person, her petite form nearly dwarfed by the three firefighters but her laugh is loud and free. Buck likes her. Melton is their sports and world history guy, and Tommy apparently has military and machinery trivia locked down. Buck guesses he's here to round out the team with his list of animal facts and maybe some other random bits that he's picked up on his Wikipedia tours.

"Who's on pop culture?" he asks when Tommy goes to get their drinks.

"That'll be- hey, there she is," says Fernando, waving his hand at someone over Buck's shoulder.

"Sorry I'm late, I meant to be here before Tommy comes with his... Buck?"

"Lucy?"

Fernando sips on his margarita. "So you two know each other?"

"Uh, yes, Lucy used to work at the 118," Buck manages to reply without stuttering. "I didn't know... How are you?"

At least Lucy looks as stunned as Buck feels. "I'm good. I'm, uh, yeah. I'm good. Earning my place in Harbor."

"Hey Donato, you're here. You know Evan, right? Here you go, Evan. Don't give me that look, try it first and then tell me how much you hate it." Tommy slides back into his seat, boxing Buck in.

Buck takes a sip and wrinkles his nose thoughtfully. "I don't hate it."

Lucy takes the last empty chair. There's a smile on her face that signals something, but Buck doesn't know what she's planning.

"Didn't know you were the Evan Tommy's been going all swoony about," she says casually. "Now I know why he goes all glassy-eyed when he texts you."

"He goes glassy-eyed and swoony?" Buck is amused and almost... touched? by the idea of Tommy being unable to hide his affection.

Melton nods. "It's good I'm already married, because I'd wanna hit him otherwise for being so blissed out."

"You'd be blissed out too if you're regularly kissed by this guy," Lucy says with a crooked smirk. "I should know."

Jill cackles. "Oh no, you kissed Tommy's boyfriend?"

"I wasn't his boyfriend at the time!" Buck sputters, face turning red. "Also, I was kinda drunk. Never doing that again."

"You were someone's boyfriend at the time though," Lucy continues blithely. "But I'm cute and irresistible, so I get it. I definitely didn't know you're into guys too." She cocks her head and looks straight at Tommy, curious.

"He wasn't consciously aware of that attraction until he met me." Tommy drapes an arm over Buck's shoulders, the weight a welcome focal point for him. "I'm damn lucky I'm the one he decided on. And from now on, all his kisses are for me alone." He meets Lucy's eyes.

Papers and pencils are being passed around. Buck feels the tension ease, in the way that highlights that there was a bit of tension earlier.

"Ugh, gross," Lucy declares, grinning, and hops off to get her own drink.

Jill raises her glass to Buck in a toast. "To bisexuality and knowing yourself!"

"Yeah!" Buck toasts back.

Tommy kisses his cheek. "Let's kick some trivia ass."

--

edited on AO3

[predestinatos]

love me down? — CL16 𓍢ִ໋ ᰔᩚ

chapter 1 chapter 2 chapter 3 chapter 4

pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader

summary: it's time to confront feelings over mcdonald's and a beach view

word count: 4k

tags: a bit angsty not gonna lie, vulnerable!charles is so interesting to write, finally they get it together (kind of), smut at the end - absolutely filthy btw.

minors dni ──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !! warnings & note underneath

note: so so sorry for the delay in updates! i've been busy on my dissertation, staying home alone for a few days and traveling along with writing some articles for my uni newspaper so things have been crazy here. but i appreciate all the support and patience.

warnings: rough sex, kitchen sex, spit is involved, charles is very... domineering

“Thank you” you smiled softly to the girl handing you the McDonald’s bag and the two big cups of coke, which you promptly asked for Charles to hold as you proceeded to drive away.

Your hands gripped the stirring wheel as you drove – upon Charles’ insistence that he wanted to see you doing it, and also because it would raise less suspicion and attention if you both did so. The night was calm and slightly warm, allowing for the windows to be opened and the breeze ran through your hair wildly.

You felt his gaze on you, noticing how he stared unapologetically at you from the corner of your eye, a warm smile plastered across his face, his eyes half open – details that you didn’t notice but knew, out of the sheer amount of time you were now spending together, his expressions becoming familiar and recognizable, like a painting you hang on your bedroom and see every morning when you wake up.

“Stop staring, it distracts me,” you said jokingly, your shoulders tensing as you smiled shyly and tried to fix your hair with one hand, the other remaining on the wheel. “Now you know how I feel” he replied, popping a French fry in his mouth.

You allowed yourself half a second to look at him with confusion, your eyebrows furrowed as you moved your head questioningly. “What do you mean?” you asked, as you opened your hand towards him and demanded for him to give you a french fry.

“I mean when we all hang out and you sit at the back of my car and all I can see is you from the rearview mirror” he replied, his arms stretching towards your mouth instead of your hand, placing the food in it carefully. You knew the order of these actions was deliberate – first he admitted to something, then he would shush you somehow, as if to let that admission disappear or go unnoticed, or for him to think of something to say that would somehow lessen it.

The cold tone of his eyes remained on you, however, letting silence fill the car, as you noticed you hadn’t put music on, relying on each other’s voices and company instead. With your mouth still half full, you kept questioning his attentive gaze: “we haven’t all hung out in your car in ages, though.” You swallow, hoping he understood what you said between chewing and speaking.

Charles laughed softly, both at your statement and at your attempt to multitask, which he tried to unconsciously replicate by removing the Coca-Cola cup from the bag without taking his eyes off of you. “I know,” he realized that was all he could say, and that it was enough for you to understand its underlying meaning.

You were now arriving at an empty beachside, one which both of you knew because that was where you spent your teenage years amongst the people you loved. “I thought you hated me though,” you said, more seriously than you intended, your hand on the gearstick as you moved it to reverse. He shrugged as he took his seatbelt off, placing one leg under the other one, his sweatpants revealing a comfort he had acquired with you over the past months. “I thought so too,” he replied, chuckling.

You turned the car off but didn’t find his tale all that amusing, how both your and his feelings were now drifting unknowingly and dissolving, getting harder to recognize and pinpoint.

Noticing your discomfort, Charles’ hand once again went through his hair, nervousness hard to disguise, his dark brown locks suddenly in a desperate need to be fixed. You grabbed your order from the bag placed upon his lap, unthinkingly. Months prior, just the idea of being in a car with him seemed ridiculously unrealistic, and now touching him was voluntary and thoughtless, which highlighted the contrast of your words.

“I’ve always found you attractive” his voice interrupted, as he took a bite of his cheeseburger. You reflected his movements, but looking at him, eyebrows raised and interest spiking. The short seconds he took to chew and swallow seemed like an eternity, the urge to hear him continue almost as big as his urge to keep talking. “Even when you annoyed the shit out of me” he laughed shortly, and this time you did too, your head rising towards the ceiling of the car. “It’s true! It just made you even more insufferable” he repeated, his free hand adjusting a lock of your hair behind you ear in caring amusement.

Your eyes met his as you took a sip of your drink, interrupting him before he went on a full monologue. “Thank you for the flattering confession,” you joked back, mimicking him by putting a lock of his hair behind his ear – an almost impossible task. “Come on, I knew you felt attraction towards me as well,” he tilted his head and leaned back, arms crossed smugly, trying to hide the slightly damaged ego. “You were alright,” your answer made him bring his hand to his chest dramatically, a comical expression screaming ‘how dare you’ in sheer playfulness.

“Grumpy men aren’t my type” you continued, placing a French fry in your mouth with feigned innocence. “Bratty girls aren’t mine either yet here we are” Charles replied, a soft gleam in his eyes as he looked at you, the breeze entering the car through the open window and touching his hair softly, daring to caress him when you couldn’t, wouldn’t.

Here we are. That sentence reverberated through your body like an enigma you couldn’t solve. Where exactly were you two? In a limbo of unspoken feelings and mere subtle hints of tenderness, an unbreakable vow of secrecy that can only be expressed through metaphors? In a car, desperate to feel each other’s devoted affection, yet refraining to do so, like a painting in a museum you can’t get too close to?

Charles knew he had said the wrong thing, or at least not the good enough thing for the moment. This back and forth used to be amusing and entertaining when nothing was at stake. But now it seems like both of you had gambled too much, and the few chips you had were holding you together at a table where whatever happened could not be seen as a victory.

He said the only thing that came to his mind at that moment. An earnest and genuine “I’m sorry” left his lips as he looked outside the window. You let out a breath, accepting the apology despite the fact that you didn’t quite know the reason for it. Was he apologizing for the comment that ignited this tension? For letting things spiral to this in the first place? You weren’t sure he knew it either, yet you knew he meant it enough for you to not hold it against him.

But maybe it was your turn to get into his head, as selfish as this sounded. You didn’t hold it against him but that didn’t mean you didn’t have half thoughts and half feelings to let out. “It was hard not being bratty with you,” you heard yourself say, as his head turned towards you. You forced yourself to hold his gaze, despite the fact that you felt heat rushing to your cheeks as you spoke. “You got under my skin like no one else. Still do,” you bit your lip, holding back a smile that threatened to creep up on your face. It was hard to hide your amusement at his own bewildered look, incredulous at what you had said could imply.

“You don’t know how many times I wanted to be alone with you” his voice, almost a whisper, traveled through the car along with the nightly air and the soft waves crashing far away. You swallowed dryly, despite the cold cup resting between your legs and the comfort it could’ve provided you in a time like this.

“Why didn’t you?” you asked, curiosity, or maybe sheer tension, filling your body as you felt him getting closer to you, closing the gap between both of your seats. “I did, eventually,” his breath hit your neck, his knowledge of this particular weakness of yours making you even weaker, realizing you gave him the power to get to you like this. His chuckle filled your ears and sent goosebumps throughout your body like an orchestra of sensations. “And it’s not like you made it particularly easy for me,” he continued, kissing your neck lightly enough to make your body shiver, his hand now resting on your leg and caressing it with sensuous ease.

“Really?” you played along, irony lacing your lips the way you both liked to play. “How come?” your voice broke upon the sentence as his murmur of affirmation to your question mixed with his kisses down your neck and his now tightened grip on your leg blurred your senses.

Before he could properly reply, your phone vibrated in your pocket, disrupting the tension building up between you two. You cursed under your breath as you pulled it out, reading the name on the screen and locking it again, deciding to reply later. “It’s my sister,” you say, even though you knew you needn’t justify yourself. Nevertheless, you did. You hoped he’d do the same in his own case.

“Oh, is everything alright? She’s in Austria, right?” he asked, genuine curiosity lacing his words. You nodded in response. “Yeah, she’s alright. It’s a drunk selfie, I’ll text her later,” you laughed as you continued, your drink finishing just like his. He laughed, more to himself than to you, as he shook his head negatively. “That’s brave for a Linguistics student” he joked.

His words made you realize something, which you couldn’t help but point out to him, question him about. “How do you know those things? About my sister, I mean” you clarified, your eyes interlocked with his. “You’ve mentioned it sometimes when we all hung out,” he shrugged, the answer seeming so simple and uncomplicated, almost making you feel ridiculous for asking. Yet you stood, motionless. “I may seem annoyed, but I am listening, you know.”

You felt your body freeze at his words, a realization of something you had never considered before. Because it’s not only that he was listening; he remembered. Things you didn’t particularly say to him – in fact, you ignored him most times, only using the basic politeness when strictly necessary – were engraved in his mind when they did not have to be. They could’ve been mere writings on sand for him, ones which the sea would wash away carelessly, yet they weren’t.

And suddenly, you were tired. Of the breeze, of the jokes, of the hiding, of the unknown. Of crying, of laughing, of shrugging it off and trying not to think about it. Of the lack of answers, of the increasingly infinite number of questions. You’ve felt sadness, but now it was time for anger – unfortunately, you did not know whom to aim it at. To him? For not being able to admit the very same thing you couldn’t admit either? To yourself? For protecting your emotions from the person who has shown in the past his inconsistencies, his lack of commitment and emotional availability?

He felt it then. He did not know how or why – whether your breath give it away, how you blinked more rapidly than usual and your eyelashes seemed to bat away the painful realization – but he felt that if he did not do something, say something, before you did, all this would end. And in those brief seconds everything flashed before him: the endless amount of decisions and routes that he could take here, how it would be easy in the short term to accept what you had to say and let you drive him home, drink it away, fuck it away, text someone else, kiss someone else. But the long term painful knowledge of feeling your skin on his when he wakes up at 4am in your room, to witness your eyerolls when he jokes around, to witness your existence quietly – that suddenly felt unbearable.

Your fists were clenched in repressed anger, so were his, though the reasons differed – but the source of them didn’t. It had now become a race against time, daring each other to speak, to do something before the other did, scared of the words that might come out each other’s mouths.

You beat him to it – maybe the only game where you actually won, yet a victory that tasted as a loss, where the podium took more from you than it gave, no morning glory or praise in your eyes or his. “I don’t think I can keep doing this” was all you said as you forced yourself to look into Charles’ eyes, notice how you could tell something in him shifted despite his lack of movement. Despite the fact that he had seen in it coming, he couldn’t help but feel a sharpness in his chest that threatened to break his whole body apart from the inside out. He had nothing to lose anymore, and knowing this, he knew he had to at least put up a fight with himself.

“It’s a shame because I think I’m starting to get feelings for you,” he tried to act natural, almost slightly careless but it did not work, not when your eyes stared deeply into his, confusion written all over them. “I mean I can’t get you off my mind. These hang outs we have are all that I look forward to. I mean that I wish I could just tell you how much I crave your presence at every moment. That part of me feels such anger towards you precisely because you make me feel weak. I hate myself for feeling these things almost as much as I do for not expressing them to you earlier. And I care. I care so much I wish I could be brave enough to ask you to text me when you get home, when you wake up, when you go out. I want to talk to you or stay in silence or eat or do anything, I don’t fucking know what I’m saying but I want this to keep going and I am so fucking selfish for it, I know I am.”

Charles bit his lip, out of nervousness, anger, or sadness – neither of you quite knew. All you knew was that the words that came out of his mouth could never be unsaid, that whatever happened after this could never repair whatever dynamic you two had, and even though you both knew that the first time he stayed after your party, it was now a reality you had to confront.

“Don’t do this to me, Charles” you begged, your voice breaking slightly as it whispered his name, the taste of it so different from before, so foreign it seemed like you were calling someone else. “It’s really fucking mean of you to do this,” you continued, as your hand flew to the car key and started it, your intention to leave the conversation in the sand, let it be consumed by the sea, erased, cleaned.

You drove and drove, although you felt like the car was operating itself, your mind not as much on the way to Charles’ place but more on retracing the steps that brough you two here. He didn’t highlight his presence either. Both of you felt so insanely alone in that car it was almost maddening, a solitary confinement worse than any other punishment: being alone together.

And so when your car came to a halt in the parking lot and you inhaled deeply, accepting the fact that this was probably the last time you would ever have him like this, considering what you’d do differently had you known that when you woke up, he tried one last time.

His hand was so close to opening the door but refused to do so before both his body and his mind had the answer to the question that would solve it all. Every single one of his next movements would depend on how you replied, and he was, not for the first time, immediately aware of your control over him. “Knowing all this, knowing it would come to this in the end- would you have kicked me out of your apartment that night?”

For some inexplicable reason, you did not hesitate then. Your head moved, so slightly it could go unnoticed, in a nod. Then, as if you were watching your own self from afar, you nodded once more, clearly, affirmatively, and confidently, despite your runny nose and teary eyes. You adjusted your hair once again, the mess a reflection of your own thoughts and his – tangled and complicated.

Yet, your reply triggered all of Charles’ courage, made his words come out strong and reassuring at the same time, as he tried, not desperately but incessantly, to make you see what he couldn’t show. “Then why can’t we keep going? You want me to show you I need you, here I am. I need you. I need this, and this might be the most vulnerable I can be with you right now but I am trying. I’ll say it as many times as you want and I’ll leave if you want me to because that’s how much I need you. I need you so much I’m willing to let you go if that’s what you want.”

His reply made you feel your own heart speeding, its pace matching his, though you were both unaware of it. Your hands were shaking at the same rhythm as his hands, the ones that were now opening the door in defeat, but that were stopped by you gripping his arm, feeling him finally, pleading him to stay. He barely had the time to close the door again, leaving it ajar as he turned to you and felt your lips on his, soft and needy and begging for him to stay. He deepened the kiss hungrily, his teeth biting your bottom lip in confirmation of his presence before you.

Remembering where you two were, you pulled away, looking at his unusual post kiss expression. Although the red lips and blissed eyes remained, he was serious, rather than smug, questioning if this was a last goodbye or a beginning. You smiled to yourself at that, his innocent look when he lost control of a situation giving away his honesty.

The atmosphere was still tense despite the fact that the air had been cleared out by his words and the tears washed away by the foggy windows, yet you couldn’t help but bite your lip, holding back a laugh as you said, “so does this mean I have to cancel things with Oscar?”

Charles’ soft giggle and playful “fuck off” made you feel at home more than ever, as you knew now that he was comfortable with you holding that door. And as he stepped out of your car, he leaned down and popped his head in once again, teasingly asking you “want to come inside so I can answer that for you?” – to which you merely smirked as you removed your seatbelt.

As soon as the elevator doors closed and until you made all the way to the 16th floor Charles’ hands were on your waist, your legs, your chest, and everywhere possible, as he tried feeling all of you at once, greedily caressing your skin. You needed him just as much, your own arms around his neck as your hands pulled his soft hair, sometimes with enough strength his groan was audible, but so addictive you couldn’t get enough of it.

The elevator doors opened and somehow you made it into his apartment, not registering any inch of it – you had grown to know it all too well to have to look around for the last few months. With your legs wrapped around his waist and his hands holding you by your thighs, he took you to the closest spot he could find and placed you there, your ass suddenly feeling the cold surface underneath. Sitting on his marble kitchen counter, you watch as his attitude shifted back to the cocky and possessive one you knew so well. Charles didn’t hesitate to take his shirt off, followed by his sweatpants, which revealed everything already. However, the sight of his naked body between your legs drove you insane, your head spinning with the heat of desire. Completely naked, yet standing above you, his voice, so distinct from the soft and vulnerable from before, demanded: “take your clothes off”

You complied, never breaking eye contact as he fisted his own cock, its length making your mouth water and your entrance embarrassingly wet, yet that embarrassment quickly faded as his gaze lowered towards it, dark lust spreading across his eyes. Unapologetically, he eyes you up and down, eyes resting on your breasts, your nipples hard, your whole body giving away how delirious with desire you felt.

“God your body is insane” he started, his hand still on his erection, moving frantically and out of pace, trying to replicate the feeling of being inside you, yet unsuccessfully. You dropped your shy attitude, replacing it instead with a newly found confidence highlighted by the confirmation of his primal desires.

“Quit jerking yourself off and fuck me, Charles” your voice sounded aggressive and soft at the same time, and caught him so off guard you saw his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he let out a ravenous growl.

Without warning, he pushed himself into you, burying his length deep inside your cunt, your wetness allowing him to move perfectly. “Fuck it’s like you were made for me” his voice, now much deeper, erupted against your neck, his face buried in it as one hand held on to your thigh tightly, and your pain was nothing when compared to how full he made you feel, how your whole body responded to him with absolute pleasure. “You were made for me, weren’t you?” he asked, pulling away from you to grip your face in his hand, a gesture so possessive and animalistic it made your eyes water in a haze. You tried nodding, although it was hard given how strong his grip was, how out of control and light-headed you felt, making it impossible for you to speak either.

His thrusts continued, aggressive and ravenous, as he unleashed all of his cravings on you. “Open your mouth” he ordered between breathy growls that pushed you over the edge. You obeyed, mouth open and tongue out as you looked at him in the eyes, some of his hair stuck to his forehead from sweat, his muscles tense and his body a complete masterpiece as it moved inside you. You knew what he was going to do, yet it still took you by sheer surprise, a cry leaving your lips as he spat directly towards your mouth, pulling your hair back to be able to look at you clearly.

You couldn’t even imagine the wreck you now looked like before him – completely blissed out and lustful, desperate for release. “All mine, f-fuck” you heard him say, despite the fact that you could barely think or even see, the sensations all mingled as one as you carved your nails in his toned arms.

“You’re mine, Charles” you tried finding your assertive voice, remind him he wasn’t the only one in charge, that you too had an upper hand in this. “All fucking m-mine, just like you want” you cried out as you felt him exploding inside you whilst your name left his lips.

The feeling of him coming and filling you was enough for you to come as well, your body shaking around his as he remained inside you, letting you keep every part of him.

As you stilled your breaths, his lips dropped a soft kiss on your forehead and his hand caressed your cheek. The change caused you to giggle, your brain still foggy from the intensity of the session you just had. “Let’s take a shower. Together” you finally said, allowing him to know that everything he had said was as reciprocate as he desired.

You two didn’t have a name or definition yet, but for now, the mutual need for each other’s presence was enough.

@buendiabebeta @janeholt3 @ruleroftheuniverse @trentsgirl @teenagedreams-cl @cmleitora @marialovesf1 @champagneholland

[ohbabydollie]

The Brown House

800 follower celebration

thank you all for the love you’ve shown my fics, i started writing this year and im so happy all of you enjoy my stuff, now that i have found enjoyment in writing again. I’m glad you guys especially the mutual break up. now please sit back and enjoy my formal thank you

Schlatt bought a house, it was a lovely cream color with a brown roof, enough space for a decently sized family. It had a large yard with a lovely wooden fence.

Yes, the home was a little old, but it was nice and in a lovely area.

Schools within a walking distance, a little market, church, anything and everything he could ever need to raise a family.

The only problem was that he didn’t have a family, it was just him, jambo and soup.

So he had invited you down there, just for a week or whenever you needed an escape from life.

He didn’t mind being your escape from the stressful life you lived.

He didn’t mind one bit, as long as it meant he could be by your side, enjoying a coffee in the morning or making dinner in the evening. Waking up early after to watch the sunrise together on the porch, sipping the warm coffee in your mugs, blanket draped over your shoulders.

It was the true definition of tranquility.

Just you and him together.

Just you and him.

You and Him.

His heart squeezed at the thought, just the two of you enjoying each other’s company, whether in silence or conversations that lasted hours, feeling never ending.

That doesn’t mean he didn’t enjoy the fucking part of your relationship.

That would probably be one of his favorite parts.

Having you moaning underneath him, holding onto him. The sloppy, passionate kissing, caring about no one else besides each other in the moment. Feeling you, smelling you, your presence.

He loved it all so much.

It was the closest way the both of you could get.

The way you both said next to nothing but understood every single word and movement.

He had never felt as close to anyone as you, ever. You understood him in a way no one else did.

You understood why he was the way he was, why he seemed so brash and harsh on the outside but was so sweet and soft on the inside. You knew his insecurities, how to make him feel better, how to make him feel loved.

Peppering kisses all over his face, calling him handsome, giggling as you felt his facial hair rub against you.

Fuck, he loves it so much

He loves you so much

You’re the biggest blessing that could be in his life, while his job is great too, he could live without his job, it’s just money, but he couldn’t live without you.

He couldn’t live without your sweet smile, the sounds of your laughter, the way your food tastes, the warmth you give off. The way when you walk into a room and light it up, no matter how gloomy it was before.

He was so deeply and utterly dumb in love for you.

Your break up was probably his least favorite part of your relationship.

The fact that you couldn’t handle the way people treated you online once your relationship was public.

He knew it was bound to happen, he had just tried shielding you from it, but he couldn’t keep it hidden forever. He knew he was hated and people who associated with him were too, so by being his partner he had placed that curse upon you.

And you were fine for the first few years, ignoring it, acting like you were fine, happy in your relationship. That was until you kept seeing people saying you only went into the relationship to stay relevant, that you don’t deserve your popularity or even the ability to have a career, that you deserve to lose your career and other awful things.

It didn’t bother you until it came down to your appearance, hearing about how people think your boyfriend deserved a hotter partner, someone who actually had something to offer, someone who’s makeup wasn’t as cakey, who didn’t have to wear as much makeup and still be hot.

It only got worse and worse until you realized you couldn’t look into the mirror without crying, without thinking “doesn’t he deserve better?” “I wish I looked better” and other awful things.

The brown house ended up being your escape from it all.

You never really bothered looking at your phone unless there was a text or call from a friend or family member. You were focused on the lovely life you were living with schlatt.

The life you had always dreamed of since you were a kid. One of a big home and even bigger yard with a fence and in a walkable neighborhood.

The brown house felt like Schlatt had seen into your childhood and ripped out the home of your dreams from your mind directly. Like he saw directly into your brain, manifesting it into reality just for you along with the type of relationship you always wanted.

One that made you feel loved and valued, one where you both could love. One that wasn’t crowded with affairs and lovers, one that wasn’t like the relationship of your parents.

One where you felt genuine and real love.

No lies, no deception, nothing, just you and him.

That’s what you loved about Schlatt, that he was your person.

He remembered the way you liked your coffee, the metal you wore, if you liked Pepsi or Coke more, your guilty pleasures. It was the little things.

He especially remembered the way to pleasure you, kissing you, teasing you, and no matter how aggressive he was or wasn’t, he made you feel one thing.

Love

He didn’t only fuck you, he made love to you, genuine and real love.

Just like now.

Kiss after kiss, Schlatt softly holding onto you as you sit on his lap, facing him. His large hands are tracing up and down your sides before they go underneath your baggy sweater and rest on your back.

“Missed you so fuckin’ much doll” he mutters, pressing soft kisses to your neck, occasionally lingering to suck on it. “So much” he says as you giggle from feeling his wet kisses

“Missed you too, so much” you say running a hand through his hair.

Schlatt signals you to pull your arms out of the sleeves and he gently pulls the sweater off of you, smiling at the familiar sight.

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty doll” he says moving his hands up to your nipples, watching them get hard from the cold hair. He leans in, to suck on them gently, you let out a soft whine. He parts from one with a “pop” before moving onto the other one, playing with the wet nipple with his thumb. You let out a soft whine from the mixed sensations as he parts from your other tit and starts to play with them.

“Can’t believe this is all mine” he says softly “my pretty girl, jus’ for me” he coos, watching you moan and squirm underneath his touch.

He’s already so hard and so needy for you, but he can hold off as long as he gets to watch you act this way, all whiny and cute just for him. Schlatt can feel you rubbing up against him, moaning and begging for him, your wetness dripping through your panties and onto his sweatpants.

“Need you so much” you mewl, he grins and lets go of your boobs, letting them drop.

“Ya sure doll? ‘Cause once you commit, I’m not gonna let you go back on your word” he rasps, pressing a kiss to your neck.

You nod, “I’m sure, i want you so bad jay” you whine.

Schlatt lifts you up slightly, lowering his pants and letting his cock out. He pulls your panties to the side, letting a groan out as he feels how wet you’ve gotten.

He teases your clit with the tip of his cock causing you to moan softly at the feeling. He aligns the tip of his cock with your entrance before placing his hands on your hips and sinking you down. You let out a moan at the feeling of his cock stretching you out.

“Oh fuck” you sob, schlatt gently moving you up and down his cock, slowing down once he hears you.

“you okay dolly? Not bein’ too rough am I?” He asks you softly you shake your head no and he starts back up again, pressing kisses to your face.

The sensation of him thrusting in and out out you alongside the kisses has you moaning and whining softly. Your arms are wrapped around his neck and you lean into him as his pace increases.

You hug him tightly, the only thing you can hear is the slapping of skin

“love you so much” you whine before pressing kisses soft and wet to his neck.

“Fuck! I love ya too doll, so fuckin much” he says, arms now wrapping around your waist as he speeds up faster and faster, the sounds becoming quicker and louder.

“I'm gonna cum! gonna cum!” You moan, only encouraging him to continue

“Go on honey, cum for me, cum on my cock” he growls as you start to come undone.

With a thrust he hits your g-spot causing you to throw your head back, letting out a high pitched scream as you cum.

He fucks you through your orgasm, cooing at you before cumming inside you with one harsh thrust.

Both of you sit there for a second, catching your breath before collapsing in his arms.

Schlatt lets out a satisfied sigh, leaning onto the bed, pressing a soft kiss to your sweaty forehead.

“Love you so much” you say laying next to him, he presses a soft kiss to your forehead. You hug him gently but tighter, not wanting to let go.

“Whaddaya say if we finish playin’ this little game and get married?” Schlatt asks you softly, you let out a soft giggle.

“ ‘course, we’re living the dream here” you mutter. Schlatt is absolutely beaming at his, peppering kisses all over your face before stopping to look at you. You giggle as he smiles, going in for another kiss.

Suddenly Schlatt hears something from afar, distracting him from the moment.

A sound that slowly gets louder and louder.

Beep

Beep

Beep

His eyes open and he looks around, he’s in his bed, in his room, not in the brown house, but in the house in Houston.

Then it hits him, the brown house was just a dream.

And the life he made with you was also just a dream.

I hope u guys enjoyed this :3

I can finally post the ask a nonnie sent that would’ve spoiled this

[saintlucretia]

Devil Wears a Suit

part Ⅱ

Pairings: Outpost!Michael Langdon x Female!Reader

Warnings: Blood, Mention of murder, Sexual harassment?, Explicit content, Curse words, Hot devil's son, Not proofread.

A/N: I tried my best, hope you enjoy.

A long night passed and the morning came. Well, if you can trust the clock. There were no windows at the Outpost for sunlight to penetrate the room, although even if there were some, it would not matter since after the bombs the sun disappeared behind a thick wall of fog. Fog of death.

I woke up with chills and sweat. Something haunted my dreams all night, making me shiver like a little lamb. Even though it was an unpleasant feeling, it added color to a pathetic parody of life that I have been having for the last 18 months.

Yesterday’s events bothered me. Moreover, they annoyed me. It was bright as day, that Langdon was messing with all of our minds, yet some part of my silly brain wanted me to believe that I was truly special. That he saw something, that no one else could.

I slowly walked to the bathroom. My bare feet touched the cold marble and I involuntarily shivered. I was tired. A mess. I washed my face and sighed, looking at myself in the mirror. Suddenly I noticed a motion somewhere behind, I turned my head and flinched. Snakes. They were crawling from the bath. Devilish creatures hissed showing me their poisonous fangs. I quickly ran out of the bathroom shutting the door behind me. What the hell? I caught my breath and sat on the edge of the bed. Are there snakes in my bathroom? I felt like I was going insane. Something cold touched my feet. Snakes. I jumped on the bed with a gasp. My closet and floor near it were full of them. They swarmed, intertwining with each other. Dozens of snakes. The other second I was already at the door, running to the hallway. Still barefoot in a white Victorian nightgown that Ms. Venable made us wear. I backed away from the room door and my back hit something soft. I turned around quickly, facing Michael Langdon's piercing blue eyes.

“Something wrong, Ms. Y/S?” he asked, preventing me from falling.

I stared at him for about a minute before words rolled out of my mouth.

“Snakes. There are snakes in my room.” My voice was hoarse, my fingers dug into the sleeves of his jacket.

He was clearly amused by my state, studying my expression. Langdon chuckled, "Oh, really? Snakes, you say?" His eyes shone with a sly glint. I watched as he pushed me aside and glanced toward the room I had just run from.  

"May I?" he asked, and entered the room without waiting for my reply. I slowly followed him. To my horror, as we entered I saw nothing. Snakes were gone. Impossible.

“They were here. I swear to God they were here.” I mumbled looking around the room.

I noticed Langdon’s face contorted in hostility. 

“Don’t say such stupid words, Ms. Y/S. It’s unnecessary here.” 

I closed my face with my hands and sighed. Considering my appearance and edgy state, I totally looked like a mad woman. Nobody believes a mad woman.

“I believe you,” Langdon said, approaching me as if he read my thoughts. “Strange things sometimes happen. But it’s just… interesting that it happened in your room.” 

"What do you mean by that?" I furrowed my eyebrows, my gaze searching his face.

“You probably know that snakes have always been representing sin. It’s their main dignity. Servants of darkness… if you believe in symbols, of course.”

I let his words sink in briefly, my gaze drifting to the ground lost in thought. Snakes… sin… Snakes slithering in the garden of Eden… temptress Eve... I understood where he was going.

I huffed at that, scoffing. "Is that your way of calling me sinful? A corrupted soul? Please, spare me the Bible lessons."

Langdon raised an eyebrow at my comment, a playful smirk on his lips. 

"Oh, I'm not calling you sinful," he said, leaning against the nearby wall, his eyes roaming over me from head to toe. “But as you said it… it would be amusing to see you getting corrupted.”

I rolled my eyes. "Then what are you calling me?" I retorted, my voice betraying a hint of irritation. I crossed my arms over my chest, trying to regain some composure.

Langdon chuckled at my defensive stance. His eyes gleamed with amusement. He pushed himself off the wall and slowly approached me.

"Are you always so feisty in the mornings?" he asked, his voice low and smooth.

I gulped as he came closer, a mix of annoyance and something else stirring inside me. His intense gaze made me feel cornered and yet, strangely… excited? My breath hitched as he was now standing directly in front of me, the space between us barely existent.

He raised his hand, a single finger tracing an invisible line down my cheek. "Or is it just my presence that gets you going?" he murmured, his voice dripping like honey.

The touch of his fingertip felt like a small electrical shock to my system. I tried to control my breathing, determined not to let him see me flustered.

"Your presence is hardly something exciting," I retorted, my voice a bit shaky. "It's more... irritating."

He smirked at my response. His finger trailed lower, down my jawline, and stopped at my chin, tilting my head up to meet his gaze.

“Well, as I recall it was you, who fell into my arms with fear, m?”

I hated how his words were effective. I hated how true they were. I hated myself for being so affected by his presence.

I tried to compose myself, my jaw clenched tightly. "I was just surprised," I mumbled, trying to sound nonchalant, but my heart was beating too hard for any nonchalance. “There were snakes all over the room.”

Langdon chuckled, his thumb left my face and he slowly started walking toward the door. 

"Indeed there were," he replied, casually leaning against the door frame. He seemed relaxed as if the topic was of no real importance.

I watched him for a moment, trying to decipher his nonchalant behavior. He was enjoying this, the way he was playing with me. The way he was playing with everyone. 

"Are you going to explain what happened here, or just act like it's normal for snakes to appear out of nowhere?" I asked, unable to hide the annoyance in my voice.

Langdon chuckled at my question, that arrogant smirk never leaving his lips. "Isn't the mystery part of the thrill?" 

He walked out, closing the door behind me, leaving me again excited and annoyed. Silence engulfed the room after he left. I was left standing there, my heart pounding in my chest, my mind replaying the events that just occurred.

I sighed and walked over to the bed, sitting down on the edge with a thump. The silence was deafening, the only sound being the steady beat of my heart. I couldn't shake off the feeling of… anticipation. Anticipation for the next time I would see him. That son of a bitch.

I quickly dressed up and went to the day room. We didn’t have breakfast there. We barely ate at all. Some kind of nutrition cube at lunch and water. Balanced diet. 

No one yet tried to break the rules of the house that Ms. Venable had set, so when I entered the room almost everyone was already there. Same people, same walls, same music. I was going insane.

I took my usual seat, the conversations around me blending into a dull murmur. I felt suffocated as if I was drowning in the monotony. All I could think about was the next part of the interview with a representative of the Cooperative. 

Sanctuary could be a lie, who can verify that? All this can be a way to manipulate us. Even Ms.Venable was afraid, she didn’t trust him but obeyed. We were a flock of sheep in a pen with a hungry wolf. 

I was lost in thought when I noticed someone settling into the seat beside me. I turned my head to see Mr. Gallant.

"You seem lost in thought," he noted, his voice soft. "Everything alright?"

“Yeah, just… had an unpleasant morning,” I answered shortly, not wanting to tell him anything. I replayed all morning and yesterday's events in my head again and felt anger in my body. It made my blood hotter. 

He had no time to answer, as Ms. Venable walked into the room. Her presence immediately silenced the conversations. Her expression was stern, and she scanned the room with a critical eye.

"Good morning," she began, her voice steady and authoritative. She leaned on her cane and raised her voice a bit. “Today we are having a special treat. Don’t be late for lunch.” She turned from us and slowly started walking away, her heels echoing through the walls.

“Oh, by the way,” she stopped for a second but hadn’t turned her head. “Ms. Y/N, Mr. Langdon is waiting for you in the interview room.” She said harshly as if his name was disgusting to her.

I could feel the eyes of the others on me as they turned their gazes in my direction. I stood up slowly, trying to seem unbothered.

The walk to the interview room seemed longer than usual, the silence only interrupted by my footsteps and my rapidly beating heart. I will beat this motherfucker.

I knocked on the door of his cabinet and entered. There he was, sitting on the table, as he was waiting for me in that position intentionally. His pose was casual but deliberate. His gaze met mine, a smirk on his lips.

"Ah, Ms. Y/N," he greeted, his tone mocking yet playful. "Sit down please." 

I tried to retain my composure, refusing to let him see any hint of my nervousness. I sat down in the chair opposite him, trying to maintain some distance, yet feeling the closeness of the cramped room.

"What do you want?" I asked, my voice steady but cold.

“Well, It’s the second part of your interview-” He began but I interrupted him. 

"Cut the act, Langdon.” I snapped, my voice coming out harsher than I intended. “This psychotic bitch with her ridiculous rules is already sucking our blood, I don’t want another arrogant dick here, who thinks he can intimidate us. We both know this isn't a real interview. Even if Sanctuary is true, selection is just part of your manipulation." 

Langdon raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. "Oh really?" He stood from the table and slowly started to circle me, like a shark circling wounded man in the water. I instinctively followed his movements with my eyes. "And why would I come to the Outpost then?" He stopped behind me, leaning closer, his breath warm against my ear.

I felt my breath hitch as he came closer, his breath sending a shiver through my body. I resisted the urge to lean away, instead sitting ramrod straight in my chair.  

"You tell me," I retorted, my voice betraying a hint of the unease I was feeling. He continued to circle me, his presence making the room feel even smaller.

Langdon chuckled at my response, his footsteps echoing around me as he completed his circle. He stopped in front of me. Smile gone.

“You are scared. It’s okay to be scared.” His calmness filled my mind with anger.

“I’m not.”

He smiled and leaned closer, resting his hands on the back of my chair, boxing me in with his arms.

“Of course you are,” he chuckled. His gaze fixed on mine. “And you should be.”

His arms on either side of my chair made me feel trapped. I could feel the power radiating from his body, and I had to fight the urge to lean back. I inhaled his smell, expensive cologne. Sweet, yet bitter, he smelled like dominance. It was hypnotic.

His chuckle was almost mocking as if he knew the effect he was having on me. I raised my chin defiantly.

"Why would I be scared of you?"  I retorted, my voice steady despite the lump in my throat. “You are nothing more than the obedient dog of The Cooperative.”

As words rolled out my mouth, I almost immediately regretted saying them. His smirk faded, eyes flashed with irritation and something even worse. I felt fear scratching my heart.

"Careful," he warned, calmly. "I'd watch your tongue if I were you. You don’t want to lose it, do you?”

I swallowed hard, my bravado wavering under his intense gaze. His threat lingered in the air like a shadow, and I knew he meant it. 

"I'm not intimidated by your empty threats," I managed to say, without thinking. Dumb bitch.

Langdon chuckled darkly, and the sound made goosebumps rise on my skin. Before I could say anything, his hand shot out and wrapped around my throat, not really choking me, but just enough to be a warning.

"Empty threats?" he repeated, his voice a dangerous whisper. "You think I'm bluffing?" His grip tightened slightly, causing a gasp to escape my lips. I could feel my eyes widen in panic, but I tried to maintain a brave expression. “Tsk, tsk, I can already imagine how nice it would be to cut out that pretty tongue of yours.”

I couldn't help the whimper that escaped my lips at his threat. His grip on my throat was strong, constricting just enough to make me gasp for breath. 

"You... you wouldn't dare," I somehow managed to squeak out, my voice sounding weak and fearful. 

“Oh you think your pathetic life costs anything?” he leaned closer to whisper in my ear. “I could stab your stomach and rip out your little heart with my bare hand and no one could stop me.”

His words stung like a physical blow, and I felt my heart race in panic. He was deadly serious, looking at me like I was nothing more than a nuisance.

"Please," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "Please don't."

Langdon's hand tightened the grip around my throat. He smiled at my pleading, a cold, cruel smile. 

"Begging already?" he asked, his voice mocking. "And after you so bravely challenged me."

My hands scrambled to pull away his wrist, trying to loosen his tight grip on my throat. I couldn't speak, could barely gasp for air.

His smile widened at my futile struggle, he enjoyed playing. He leaned closer, his face inches away from mine. 

"This is what happens when you challenge someone with power," he murmured. "You get humbled."

I was unable to say a word, strangled by his hand, tears starting to well up in my eyes. The room started to spin, and my vision became disoriented.

“Still, have hesitation about my authority?” he asked, his tone almost soothing.

"N-no... no..." I managed to choke out.

His hand released its grip on my throat, allowing me to gasp for air. My body slumped against the chair, trembling uncontrollably. I took a moment to recover from his grip, my heart still pounding and my breath shaky. I felt smaller under his gaze, like a mouse trapped under the eye of a snake.

Langdon chuckled at my reaction, his eyes glinting with cruel enjoyment. "Pathetic," he said, the word dripping with derision. 

I looked away, unable to meet his gaze. The feeling of helplessness was overwhelming, and I knew he was relishing every moment of my humiliation.

Langdon reached out, his fingers gripping my chin tightly, forcing me to look at him. His touch was rough, a stark contrast to the smoothness of his voice as he spoke. 

"Now can you listen to me?"

I nodded weakly, my throat still sore from his assault. Langdon saw the fear in my eyes, and his smile widened at the sight.

"Good," he murmured, his hand slowly releasing my chin.

His gaze never left me, his eyes scrutinizing every reaction I made.

"You were smart enough to figure out the whole interview thing," he said, his tone casual yet calculating. "But you're not smart enough to know when to keep that pretty mouth shut." Langdon chuckled, a twisted sound that made me flinch. "Still, I appreciate the fire," he said. "Most of the other 'interviewees' are a little too... shallow, I’d prefer most of them dead by evening." 

His eyes never left mine, studying me intently. I tried to hide any emotion.

"They all tremble before the thought of going to The Sanctuary and willing to please me in any way. But you're…," he continued. "You're unfortunately not satisfied with just being an obedient pretty face. No, you have an attitude. And that, my dear, is your undoing."

“M’sorry.” I breathed out quietly.

"Apologies mean nothing," he said smiling. "The main thing is understanding how everything works. So tell me, did you truly understand the lesson here, or does your pretty little head need another reminder?" His tone was cold and condescending, making me feel even smaller. 

The fear that had subsided slightly came rushing back, cold and constricting - raw.

"No, no, I..." I stammered. "I understand." 

Langdon chuckled. "See, now that wasn't that difficult, was it?" he crooned, his hand reaching out to trace a finger along my jawline. His touch was mocking, a cruel gesture that sent a shiver of disgust through me and I diligently tried to hide it. It was hard not to move away. He seemed to enjoy my discomfort, his eyes glinting with amusement.

“Now we can have a productive talk.” He said, turning away from me. “You have brains, I’ll give you that. So why not put them in use, hm?” 

I could feel a slight sense of relief as he turned away from me, but it was quickly replaced by a wary uncertainty. His change in demeanor was unpredictable, and I had no idea what was coming next.

"What... what do you mean?" I asked, my voice betraying my unease.

He began pacing back and forth in front of me, his hands clasped behind his back.

"You're clever, resourceful... more useful from. And I hate to see potential go to waste."

He stopped in front of me, his eyes studying me intently. I could practically feel the gears in his mind turning as he weighed his words.

"But the problem is, you're stubborn," he said finally. "And that stubbornness leads to insolence."

He leaned in, his face mere inches away from mine. The smell of his cologne hit my nose again. Crisp and masculine scent.

"And insolence, my dear," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Is a trait I don't tolerate."

“I understand that.” I said semi-calmly.

“Oh, you are a quick learner as well.” he murmured. “Good girl.” His tone was still mocking, and I hated how the praise sent a flicker of warmth through me. I tried to remain stoic, but his words were starting to chip away at my defenses. 

He stepped back, his gaze still locked on me. 

"I have an offer for you," he said. "An offer that could benefit us both, if you play your cards right."

“What offer?” 

“I want you,” he began. “To work for me.” 

“Work for you?” I asked dumbly.

He chuckled at my confusion, enjoying my surprise.

"Yes, work for me," he confirmed. "You'll be doing research, digging up information on others, doing necessary tasks, anything I need. Think you can handle that, hm?"

“But… how?” I wasn’t expecting that offer at all. And how the fuck should I dig on others?

Langdon smiled at my question, obviously finding it amusing that I wasn't catching on.

"How?" he echoed. "You seemed smarter a few minutes ago."

He leaned against the table again, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You'll be my eyes and ears, gathering intel for me. You'll tell me everything you see, hear or feel. And in return… I’ll put in a good word for you with the members of the Cooperative." 

I sat there, watching him silently.

He waited a moment, letting his words sink in. He was watching me intently, waiting for my reaction.

"I can see the wheels turning in your head," he began. "You're thinking about all the possibilities, aren't you? Life at The Sanctuary is heaven if you are friends with the authorities." He smirked.

He was right. The possibilities were spinning in my head like a whirlpool. 

But I knew there was a catch. People like Langdon never offered anything without expecting something in return. Something much bigger than collecting information. 

“What’s the catch?” 

He smirked at my question. His eyes were glittering with satisfaction, clearly enjoying his little game.

"Ah, are you always so suspicious or am I an exception?" he asked, tilting his head a bit.

“You think I shouldn’t be suspicious of the man who almost choked me to death a few minutes ago?” My tone filled with venom and I bit my tongue, afraid to anger him again.

“Don’t be so dramatic, it was just a friendly reminder” he said leaning closer to me, whispering. “And don’t act like you didn’t enjoy that, you are bad at hiding it.”

My heart skipped a beat, a mix of anger and embarrassment rushing through me. 

"Enjoy that?" I shot back. "Why would I enjoy being strangled by a sick psychopath?"

He smirked at my outburst, seemingly unfazed by my anger. 

"Now now, no need for name-calling," he said with mock hurt. "You can lie to yourself if it gives you comfort, but I saw the way you reacted, the way your body tensed, and the way your pupils dilated."

His gaze roamed over me in an almost predatory manner, making me feel exposed.

“Anyway, we have more important things to discuss than your sexual desires.” He smirked. “Accept my offer?”

His brazen, almost predatory manner was as infuriating as it was intoxicating. I felt my cheeks flush with embarrassment, but I refused to look away. 

"Accept your offer..." I echoed, trying to sound strong. "You haven't exactly explained the full extent of this 'job' you're offering. I need more details before I can even consider it." I forced the words past my lip.

“It’s easy. You are loyal to me and I promise you protection. It’s always useful to have an intelligent, pretty head on your side.” he said, looking me up and down. “Before me, you were all alone among bastards, but now I offer you my hand and I really don't recommend biting it.”

“So I have to become a backstabber?” 

"No, my dear, you're thinking too low. You won't be backstabbing anyone. You'll merely be... helping me to form a new society. " He paused, his expression growing more serious. "Don’t tell me you are afraid of getting your hands bloody, I saw the way you look at Ms. Venable. You are bloodthirsty."

My eyes widened at his observation. I wasn't surprised he had caught on to my hatred for Ms. Venable, but hearing him say it out loud was another matter. 

"I'm not scared of getting my hands dirty," I said, my voice firm despite the shiver that ran down my spine. "I'm just not fond of being used."

Langdon sat on the edge of the table and smiled, almost genuine, he looked at me like I was a little kid.

“Come here.” he said calmly and beckoned me with the nod of his head.

I hesitated, not sure whether to obey his command or not. I slowly stood up and walked over to him, stopping a few feet away from him. It was crazy how he was radiating comfort and dominance at the same time. 

“Closer. I won’t bite.” 

I stepped closer and his hand reached to stroke my hair.

“You are special.” His voice was surprisingly gentle as he spoke. His fingers tangled in my hair, his touch both soothing and possessive. “You can achieve a lot or… stay here and rot with others.”

His words were like a cold bucket of water, snapping me out of the odd comfort I found myself in. I knew he was right, of course. Staying here meant settling for a life on the sidelines, living in fear and boredom. Or just die.

"You don't play fair, do you?" I said, my voice tinged with irritation. "One second you're choking me, the next you're stroking my hair and promising me the world."

"And why should I play fair, hm? Rules don't work anymore here, chaos has won." He leaned closer. 

I found myself smiling despite myself. It was probably still a shock. My mind couldn't keep up with what was happening. There was a dangerous charisma to him, an irresistible charm that I couldn't quite explain.

"That’s a convenient excuse for you to do whatever you want," I shot back, trying to sound defiant. "No rules means no boundaries."

Langdon chuckled again, his smirk widening. His hand slid down from my hair to rest on my throat again, his thumb brushing against my pulse.

"Careful," he warned, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I might start thinking you're enjoying this a bit too much." I freeze. “And about the rules… I prefer bending them, instead of breaking."

I didn’t answer, waiting for him to continue. He smiled, clearly enjoying my reaction. His thumb traced lazy circles on my throat, making my pulse quicken involuntarily.

“You don’t want to die here, do you?” He whispered in my ear. “It would be a shame if such potential would remain undisclosed…” His hand moved lower, gently touching my collarbone. “In this body.”

His touch ignited a strange fire inside me. I desperately tried to ignore the way my body reacted to him, the way my heart raced and my skin tingled where he touched me. 

"You make it sound like I'm a ticking time bomb." My voice came out a little breathier than I intended.

"Oh, don’t sell yourself short, darling," Langdon purred. "You’re more like a grenade. A beautiful, deadly grenade.” His hand caressed my skin. “So… Do we have a deal, Ms. Y/N?” 

I stared down at the floor, then back at Langdon, my gaze calculating. After a few seconds I nodded. “Deal.”

“Wise.” He smiled. “Now let’s make that official.”

His left hand went to grab my waist, while the other reached out to take something from the table. Small dagger. I instinctively tried to pull back, but his grip on me was unwavering

“No need to be scared, little lamb.” He handed me the weapon with the hilt forward. 

“Official?” I echoed.

“Yes. Deal in blood.” His answer made my body flinch.

The cool metal of the dagger felt heavy and unfamiliar in my hand. 

“Aren't you afraid that I would stab you?” I asked him, trying to hide my fear.

Langdon chuckled darkly, liking the question. 

"You wouldn't dare," he said with absolute confidence. "You're far too smart and too… intrigued by me to do something so foolish."

His eyes glittered dangerously like he was daring me to prove him wrong. "And besides... I have a feeling you're far more interested in finding out what it would be like to be on my good side."

He directed my hand, in which the dagger was clutched, and leaned the tip against the palm of his left hand. “Cut.”

I watched in fascination and slight horror as the blade made a small incision in his hand, a thin line of blood forming on his palm. He didn’t even flinch, his gaze locked on mine the entire time. It awakened in me something feral.

“Now you,” he said, his voice low and steady.

He grabbed my hand, his grip gentle but firm, and guided the knife to my palm. The sharp pain was muffled by his lips on my cheek. The warm blood slowly pooled in my palm. 

He pressed his wounded hand against mine, the touch inflicted pain. The blood from his hand mingled with mine, the warmth and stickiness of it a strange and yet somehow comforting sensation. 

 "And with that..." he said, his voice hushed. "Our deal is sealed."

I felt the burning urge to press my lips to his. Without clearly thinking I leaned to his face, kissing him hungrily. He didn’t return the kiss, but didn’t pull away either. 

"Now, now, dear," he said, his voice a low murmur. "Don't get ahead of yourself. No need to complicate things…"

His gaze flicked down to my lips, his own curving into a smug smile. I was ashamed of my bold move and confused by his stubbornness. He was a man after all, wasn’t he?

"Complicate?" I repeated, my voice tinged with sarcasm. "Says the one who just made me swear a blood pact."

Langdon chuckled, amused by my attempt at irritation. "Ah, don't pout," he said, his hand moving to gently cup my jaw. 

"Just because I'm not giving in to your every desire doesn't mean I’m inaccessible.” He leaned closer to my ear. "But keep pushing, darling. I do love it when you act up, maybe next time you wil get lucky." He carelessly brushed his lips along my wound, making me whimper quietly, my eyes fluttering shut for a moment. God, he is killing me.

Langdon pulled back, a satisfied smirk playing at the corners of his lips. His hand left my jaw, and I found myself missing the feel of his touch already. I leaned forward, wanting him to touch me.

"Ah ah ah," he tutted, his voice mockingly chiding. "I can practically feel your eagerness, my dear. But I'm afraid I can't have you slacking off on our deal."

He gestured lazily to the door. "You should return to your routine. Can’t have Ms. Venable catching you slinking around here for too long."

I bristled at his order, but I knew he was right. I nodded grudgingly.

"Fine."

I started to walk toward the door, my wounded hand throbbing a little from the recent events. But before I reached the threshold, Langdon's voice stopped me.

"Oh, and Y/N?"

I turned back, raising an eyebrow questioningly.

His eyes were glinting mischievously.

"A word of advice," he said, his voice dripping with mockery. "Try to control that urge of yours. It's going to get you in trouble..." He paused, his gaze roaming up and down my body. "Or is it already too late?"

“Check it yourself next time,” I answered boldly and grabbed the door handle.

I couldn’t see his face, but was sure that he was amused.

"I might just take you up on that offer." I heard his smooth voice, as I left the room. "Off you go, little lamb." 

I shut the door behind me and leaned on it with my back. Probably that’s what it feels like to sell your soul to the Devil.

Have a good day <3

[eyelessfaces]

drenched flowers

marc spector x reader

summary: you and marc had a serious fight and have been avoiding each other since. the tension is hard to handle for everyone, and your only wish is to make things right again between you and marc, only he strictly refuses to front...

warnings: angst, allusions to fighting obviously, i think that's it but please tell me if you can think of anything else while reading?

tags: gn!reader, hurt/comfort, it ends well I promise, fluff, marc being his grumpy and angsty and emo self, steven and jake are here too for emotional support

word count: 2.2k

reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated!!

Jake had yelled at him to confront you so the situation could get better; Steven had begged him to apologize because he saw how affected you were, but all Marc could do for now was to frown in disgruntlement and put a towel over the mirror to prevent himself from smashing it.

Not seeing them anymore didn’t change much as the two men still kept on ranting, but somehow it gave Marc the impression of having more control over the situation.

At least that was what he thought.

The resonating sound of the front door closing quickly left him to let Steven be in charge of the body for your return, to avoid heavy gazes and deafening silences in the flat.

It had been like this for a little more than a week. 

This freezing, uncomfortable atmosphere everytime Marc fronted – which he rarely did lately for those reasons –, with the both of you avoiding your presences and throwing snarky remarks at each other every time you really had to talk. You couldn’t say this was enjoyable, In fact this was a pain for everyone, including Steven and Jake, and you knew that this whole situation caused them to fight too.

Steven exited the bathroom, sighing loudly now that Marc gave up on fronting. 

He and Jake had found common ground in trying to convince Marc to apologize, but Marc was stubborn and headstrong so this was a lost cause.

Steven looked up and smiled at you when he noticed you were there.

“Hey love” he huffed out with a smile, walking to you to help with the bags of groceries. “How was your day?” he asked as he walked to the kitchen, putting the bags on the island. You followed him and offered him a sigh before answering his question.

“Really meh. Could have been better” you said while unloading the bags and putting away their content. “People at work were rude and people at the store were standing right in front of what I wanted to pick. Each time”

He chuckled in response and turned to stand in front of you.

“I’m sorry to hear that. I’ll take care of the bags, go take care of yourself” he smiled before kissing your forehead.

“Thank you Steven. And you, did you have a good day? What had you sighing when I arrived?” you asked, smoothing the collar of his shirt.

“Oh, that? Had a little chat with the gentlemen. Didn’t go so well” he declared as he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. 

You nodded, pressing your lips together skeptically, noting that you weren’t the only one having trouble talking to Marc. You closed your eyes and hugged Steven tight.

The only good thing about your fight with Marc was that the affection you didn’t give to Marc, you gave to Steven and Jake. 

Sadly.

—

Steven whistled softly as he beelined to the bedroom area with two hot chocolates in hands. You telling him you had a bad day always resulted in this and cuddles, and usually never failed to make you feel better.

But Steven understood the situation was worse than that when he noticed you were curled up on your side, wiping away warm tears running down your face.

“Steven.” Jake called out. Steven caught his alter’s glare in the full length mirror, an empathetic expression on his reflection. “Let me take care of that”

Steven surrendered the body to Jake without a word nor a question, and Jake walked around the bed to put down the cups on the bedside table before snuggling up behind you. 

He pressed his chest against your back and snaked his arms around your waist before brushing away the hair sticking to your face because of the tears, and nuzzled the back of your neck.

“Jake” you breathed out in a barely audible sound.

The tight grip around you made you notice the change.

Jake shifted and left a kiss on your damp cheek. “I’m here, amor” he whispered. “I got you.”

You sighed and interlaced your fingers with his.

You both stayed here in silence, Jake softly caressing your stomach and kissing your shoulder from time to time while you tried to calm down and stop crying. The silence was somehow comforting and cathartic, even though you would rather have Jake have a normal evening rather than having to bear with you and your feelings.

“I miss him.” you muttered under your breath after a while. “I miss Marc” 

Jake hesitated before talking, not sure of what he should say to try to make you feel better.

“I know, I’m sorry honey” he said as he blinked tiredly, hearing Marc sigh softly. “He won’t tell us anything but I’m pretty sure he misses you too.” he declared sternly as he caught Marc’s remorseful and shameful face in the reflection of the fish tank. “I’m sure he does.” he said as his brows furrowed at Marc and his hold tightened around you.

Marc’s shoulders slouched under the weight of guilt and the man couldn’t feel anything except utter frustration.

—

When you woke up the next morning they were gone. The spot next to you in the bed was cold as if a ghost was laying there and the flat was dead silent. 

The only sound present was the rain pouring in the streets of London, raindrops quickly running down the windows considering how violent the precipitation was.

You sat up straight, pushing the covers away from your body.

This wasn’t normal. 

Steven wasn’t supposed to be at the museum today, Jake wasn’t supposed to drive around today, and both of them would have told you if Marc was supposed to go on a mission for Khonshu.

The freezing temperature and that feeling of worry lodged deep inside of you made you shiver, urging you to put on one of Marc’s hoodies; the only proximity you could get from him from these past days.

You wandered around the flat, looking for any sign that they were here, but there were none.

You tried to be rational, you tried not panicking, so you ran to take your phone and call them.

He stepped into the flat, soaked from the rain. The previously slicked back curls were now falling in front of his face, thick drops of water falling on the old wooden floor.

He sighed as he watched the drenched flowers in his hand, petals falling down in a depressing way as they had been hammered by the rain.

Even buying you flowers he couldn’t do right, he thought.

Your heart skipped a beat when you heard the creak of the front door. You urged yourself to the entry, and let out a sigh of relief at the sight of your boyfriend back home.

“You’re here– Aw Jake” you cooed – almost out of breath from nearly freaking out – at the sight of the bouquet of flowers.

The man in front of you cleared his throat and pinched his lips in a signature awkward smile and you knew.

“Oh”

Marc adjusted his position of his feet and held out the bouquet to you.

“I, uh–” he paused and sighed. “You know I’m better with actions than with words, but I still need to tell you that I’m sorry.” he affirmed weakly, voice barely audible. 

You walked up to him and took the flowers.

They looked beaten up, tired, but still beautiful.

“It started raining as soon as I left the flower shop, sorry… For that and for everything else.” Marc muttered under his breath.

You looked up at him and observed his pained expression.

Marc looked just like the flowers. Beaten up, tired, but still beautiful.

“...Marc” you huffed out, shaking your head.

“I’m really sorry. I mean it. I’m an asshole” he said nodding. 

He was angry at himself, and he was sad, but he was first of all sorry.

He was sorry because he didn’t mean those words to slip out, sorry because he thought he couldn’t be the boyfriend you deserved to have, sorry because all of this should have never happened.

“They’re alright” you smiled, looking back at the flowers. “I think I like them more that way.”

“You don’t have to–”

“I mean it.” you cut him off, still staring at the flowers. There was something poetic about them being crushed by the rain.

“I hate pretending not to care about you.” he let out abruptly. You looked back at him, and raised your eyebrows. “I can’t stand it.” he declared, the inner corner of his brows angled up, attesting of his vulnerability.

You sighed as a shiver ran up your spine and tears started to threaten your eyes. 

“Marc–” you started. 

“You know I love you, right?” he cut you off, chasing your gaze.

You let out a shudder, quickly looking away from him because you knew you would start crying if you kept on looking at his face.

You looked at the rain-painted thin windows and nodded.

“I know”

Your voice resonated through the apartment, as if it was an abandoned building. 

The wood floors creaked under Marc’s feet as he took a step towards you, and you let the bouquet of flowers fall to the floor, a barely audible sound compared to the sigh of relief you let out when you crashed into Marc’s arms.

“Fucking hell, you’re a pain in the ass, Marc Spector” you groaned against his chest, and he let out a sigh of relief and chuckle.

“I know, I’m sorry” he replied almost too seriously, wrapping his arms around you too. “I’m sorry” he repeated, and you dug your nails into his damp jacket, holding him tighter. 

You stayed like this for a while, a few tears unwillingly running down your cheeks, just appreciating each other's presence and the relaxing feeling of being able to be in the same room without fighting. 

Being able to hold him close and to finally get that proximity you had been missing and craving felt reviving.

“Baby get off me, you’re gonna catch a cold” he advised.

“Damn, not even two minutes since we made peace and you already don’t want me anymore” you joked, quickly pecking his lips before reluctantly pulling away from his drenched clothes.

He chuckled as he took off his jacket and put it over the radiator, watching as you picked up the bouquet of flowers from the floor.

“Those flowers were expensive” he grumbled, pushing away the curls falling over his forehead.

“It’s okay. I don’t need flowers to forgive you, Marc” you declared as you went to the kitchen to grab a glass of water and put the flowers in it. You didn’t need those flowers to forgive him, but your heart still ached positively at the action. He was worried about their depressing state, but you couldn’t care less; they were flowers and no matter how they looked they remained flowers: beautiful and significant.

A small smile formed on his face, and he quickly kicked his shoes off to go and change into dry clothes.

You came back to him, slouching down on the bed as he thoroughly searched through the drawers of clothes.

He let out a grunt of frustration. “Where’s my–”

“Hey” you called. 

“–Hoodie” he continued as he turned to you, rolling his eyes when he realized you were wearing it. He crashed next to you on the bed and you laughed. “Thief” he mumbled under his breath, laying his head over your stomach.

“Don’t be dramatic” you teased him as you covered your hand with the sleeve of his hoodie, ruffling his wet hair with it. “Want it back?”

“No that’s okay, my shirt’s not actually that wet” he said as he looked up at you. “And you somehow happen to look good with it, so…”

“‘Somehow happen?’ asshole” you laughed as you sat up to tickle his ribs, causing him to wriggle and writhe under your touch.

“Sto– Stop this!” he laughed, out of breath. You giggled and freed him of your tickles, laying back down on the bed. “You don’t want me to piss my pants on this bed” he affirmed.

“I don’t want you to piss your pants period.” you chuckled, and he shifted to plant his elbow right next to your face. He stared at you for a second, observing your face carefully.

“I love you” he whispered, stroking your cheek with the back of his other hand.

“Marc you can’t tell me you love me right after we talk about piss” you frowned, and he smiled softly.

“Oh yeah can’t I?” he asked teasingly, cocking an eyebrow.

“Let’s just say it’s not the most romantic thing.” 

“Jake says anything can be romantic,” he shrugged.

“Jake is fucking delusional” you huffed out with a laugh.

“Steven agrees”

You bowed your head. “Thank you for being a reasonable man Steven.” you laughed, mirroring Marc’s action and planting your elbow into the mattress and holding your face with your hand too. “That being said, I love you too.” you grinned. “I missed you” you continued, brushing back the humid curls at the side of his face.

“I missed you too” he muttered. “I regret what I’ve said and done.”

“I do too. We’ll be okay.” you promised, pushing him to lay against his chest. He caged you with his arms, burying his face into your hair.

“I think we’ll be.” he whispered, closing his eyes. “I’m sure we’ll be.”

—

reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated!!

moon knight taglist: @apollo-enthusiast @scarabgrant @lockleysgrl @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @missmarmaladeth @alexxavicry @mystinky-butt @beccabecs521 @wibblywobblytimesindeed

[nanamis-bigtie]

nonsexual acts of intimacy ↬ having their hair washed by the other

❧ higuruma hiromi x gn!reader | cw: domestic fluff, established relationship, nonsexual nudity, implied non-curly hair ❧

Higuruma's apartment balances between the Japanese and western styles, uncontrived and convenient, taking the best out of two worlds. As a lawyer he could easily afford a more "fashionable" one, in a better location and with more space, but as soon as you took the first step past his threshold, you understood why he insisted on staying. 

It's just perfect.

You like the bathroom especially. Despite the whole apartment being on the smaller side, it's actually bigger than the ones you've seen in places of comparable standard, your own included. It's spacious enough for two people to use it at the same time without bumping into each other—and it definitely helps cut down on precious time. Every second spent together matters with such a busy life you both lead.

And besides—

"Need help, love?" Higuruma looks at you through the reflection in the mirror, still bent over the sink as he's just finished washing away the remains of toothpaste. 

Still grimacing, you slowly put your arms down, "Yeah, would love, thanks."

The other stool grates on wet tiles, he sits down behind you and shimmies as close as possible without trapping you too much between his legs. The shower head is taken from your hand; he checks the temperature on his wrist before proceeding, starting at the back of your head to not push the stream into your face.

"What happened?" Higuruma's fingers thread through your hair, divide it into parts to wet the scalp better. Lost in pleasant sensation, of his closeness and gentle yet precise touch, you need the question to be repeated. The first honestly just flew over your head.

"It's just damp and cold." You massage the aching shoulder, the reason behind the whole commotion. "The hinges don't work as well as they used to."

"Don't you dare say you're old." He scoffs and immediately, apologizing for the harsher tone, kisses the back of your neck. "Careful for eyes now—"

Higuruma claims he's not the type to pamper his partner but everything he does for you just disaffirms his words. It's just a simple task of washing your hair but he does everything with religious scrupulousness, following your usual steps to perfection, even if he's never asked for guidance. You must have been observed thoroughly, every time you used his bathroom, his gaze following you from the steamy mirror, from the bathtub, from the door left ajar when he passed you the towel and fresh change of underwear you forgot to take… 

As always, you want to point it out, to tease him until he curls and withdraws, leaving you victorious on the battlefield of teasing banter. As always, thoughts and words leave you as soon as he pours shampoo on top of your head and starts the ritual massage. 

Higuruma's hands, not having the imprint of physical labor, are so soft you simply melt into them. He knows how to press and scratch right within the balance, mindful to not tie your hair into knots nor to pull on it. No wonder you quickly forget about the purpose behind the gentle circles he presses with his fingertips. 

You drown into them, shamelessly arching for more, your back meeting his hairy chest when you lean into him. His laughter, shy and not much louder than a whisper, tickles your sensitive skin.

"Don't fall asleep on me," he kisses the nape of your neck again. "Careful, I'll wash it down now…"

a/n: men with big noses just do everything better, it's engraved in the law. dedicated to @lale-txt for passing me yet another character virus :3

[kaetastic]

IF ONLY YOU KNEW

pairing: Regulus Black x Slytherin!F!Reader

summary: She was born green. Well, not literally, but the bond between two Slytherins was like no other. Written in the stars, destiny had been made for the two long before they were even born. So if he was truly her soulmate, does she have to bear the weight of his absence until she wilts?

word count: 4.1k

warning: angst, talks of character's death. had a plot, lost said plot.

notes: I haven’t written in some time even though I know I could’ve :( It was more than writer’s burnout, but even that I can’t pinpoint why. I also feel that Tumblr is the ONLY social media platform that I own where I don’t feel discouraged at any sort of interaction. I feel free here because I get to publish a story and just read other pieces by other authors. I also feel like this story has less of a plot and more of angst LOL IM SORRY OKAY i just want to cry right now haha.

“It is understandable that you are nervous.” The soft voice filled the air. Even though the windows were perched open as wide as they could to invite new air in, the witch felt incredibly suffocated. There were a lot of thoughts circulating her mind, overlapping each other and cutting one after the other before it could be completed. She felt her energy dim down by each second as her brain welcomed the traffic. Sometimes she wished there were potions that could hinder the thoughts for just a moment.

Her eyes laid on the reflection of her figure on her vanity mirror. Despite taking care of herself and getting ready to combat the obstacles of the day, sleep was one thing that did not want to cooperate with her. No matter what magic. The prominent eye bags were embarrassing to say the least after consuming concoctions after concoctions. Specifically tailored to her own suffering by some of the best Potioneers and apothecaries. The best people that came when you had pureblood family connections.

The witch was blessed (as her late mother would say) for having such luxuries in her life without ever working for it. Except, her mother didn’t say that in a ‘you have to appreciate what you have’ and more like ‘you have better things than low-life people so make sure to use it to your advantage and rub it on their faces.’ However, she never understood. Yes, she had wealth to her name, she had always been gifted with extravagant gifts ever since a mere infant, and she had all the access to so many things a normal witch didn’t. But in the far back of her mind, she had one thought on an endless repetition. She would trade it all for him back. Anything and everything.

“No. It is not. I am not just nervous, I’m,” Y/N huffed out, pushing the sentences and thoughts she would need to the most prioritized in her head. Pushing herself out of the vanity seat, she paced from one side of her room to the other. There were jitters in her legs, suddenly she needed to let out the pent up emotions in a form of movement. “I feel so angry, it is indescribable, and then I feel so down.”

A chuckle came from the previous voice, “Yes, I am very much aware of your rollercoaster of emotions. In fact, wasn’t I always the one to call you out on it?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, planting her palms on the window sill, her pupils grazed over the well-looked after garden. The male blurted, “Would it be so bad?”

Despite being caught up on the butterfly that innocently planted itself on a leaf, the witch mumbled under her train of thoughts, “I don’t know. It could go so many ways and I do not like that. Just when I thought I was settling myself into peace (that was a lie), of course Dumbledore had to reach out to me.”

She held her head low, fingers fidgeting with the ring wrapped around her finger. It was so cheesy for it to house an emerald crystal, but cheesy was one side he showed her to no one else. Y/N plopped back down on the seat, her head resting on her hands. Gorgeous. A masterpiece worked on so hard the public sought after it so much just to take it from her grasp. Maybe that’s why he wasn’t with her anymore. She sighed, getting lost in the colourless picture. The witch stared at it with so much love and longing that it might’ve pushed her back to square one, “Reggie, I wish you were here.”

Her thumb caressed the framed picture so gently.

“What do you mean, my love? I am.” The moving figure in the photo smirked, leaning his body on the side of the frame. Y/N noted the curls in his hair gently falling down his face. Tranquil nights that were not exactly innocent shared together in a bed, she had always fidgeted with the strands of hair that stuck to the sweat beads on his forehead. Nights that she can count. She missed the feeling of it between her fingers, and the way he always smelt like his cologne. It was always lingering.

“Piss off Reggie,” The wizard laughed a melody she so dearly missed. “You know what I mean.”

Regulus’ lips fall into a thin line.

“I am always with you. Remember when I spent that one summer at yours? The stupid promise I made when we were kids that I was going to haunt you even when I am dead is still being upheld.” Y/N laughed and she couldn’t help but feel the tears prickling in her eyes, “You are more than capable. We both know it. Dumbledore may had his eyes out for us back then, but he’s a man who wants to do good.”

That’s where the issue lied. Why did Dumbledore send an owl to her? Even though in the letter, the great wizard had stated that she was invited for a private meeting- that had to be the most vague reasoning ever. Not to forget the fact that Dumbledore had remembered how great of a student she was. He stated that she had great skills and assets. That was it. The line ended there… before he mentioned that the meeting would take place in 12 Grimmauld Place. That had stuffed a blockage in her throat because Y/N couldn’t breathe after slapping the letter to a close.

Despite there being no inhibitors of that house for some time, Y/N could not bear the idea of making that place her home. She could not imagine herself getting out of bed, reading a book, and cozying up in front of the fireplace (the other tasking job would have been carried out by the elf) because every corner of that house reminded her of Regulus. There was no universe where she would settle in a place that reminded her of what she no longer had. So she stayed at the house they dreamt of for their future. It was bought by their families as an engagement gift for when they had turned 17. It was young, sure, but the two were more than sure. Additionally, this was the future set up for them.

The new house still held memories of him, but not as much. It was a comprimise but she would rather make home of a place that lacked her painful memories. Wrapping a hefty, tight chain around her chest, it felt like a punishment knowing that the house was once a wish for the two. Now, it’s just her living that wish.

Regulus kept yapping reassurance, always using the wit he was adorned for while Y/N entertained herself with the countless framed pictures of Regulus. It felt like a routine at this point. A restart to the cycle she wished would just end. With a wide grin, Regulus had his fist thrown in the air as he rode the quidditch broom as if he was born for it. An arm had been thrown over her shoulders, yanking her closer to his body. The couple smiled in bliss in their infamous green robes. So innocent, so clueless for the future that was awaiting.

The witch remembered it as if it was yesterday, the jealousy that always were aimed at the two by the other pureblood children of their age. To be bethrothed before you were even breathing the air of the world was one thing; however, to be bethothed before being born and falling head over heels for one another was a one in a billion. Always reminded by her great aunts and all the women in her life that in one form or another, they had to find peace in their marriage. They had to find and make love in the marriage. It didn't apply to them.

Even though their seniors would tease and jest them for how they were always joined hip to hip every single day, they knew deep down- they craved for what they had. The compatibility between the two was a dream not even fairtytales could match. She knew that girls had eyes on Regulus, who wouldn't? But it was more than wanting the boy, it was wanting what they had. Regulus never had to reassure her despite the few times a burn had ignited in her chest. She knew they were for one another. Who could rewrite what was already written in the stars?

The ideal pureblood match.

She realized Regulus had stopped talking. The wizard watched her with such affection in his eyes, “What does Dumbledore want with me?”

The nature of the great wizard always ticked her off. Despite being praised for doing so many good deeds like Grindelwald, he did some things very harshly and brazenly. Not to forget his favoritism towards Gryffindor. It was petty of her to hold onto a memory like that after all these years, but she couldn’t help it.

“I’m not too sure either. However… the timing of the letter and my brother’s escape is too coincidental for it to be otherwise.” Regulus replied.

Great. Even though the wizard had stated in the letter that it was just a private meeting between the two, she knew the wizard always had cards up his sleeves. If she was, thereotetically, to meet Sirius Black- she would actually freeze in time. The two Black brothers didn't exactly look identical, but the black curls, their mannerism... she hoped he became a worse prick than he was in school.

Y/N sighed out, she needed to get this over with even though she really did not want to face whatever it was, "It's time."

The wizard in the frame sent a comforting smile, "You've got this, my love."

Pulling the drawer of the vanity, the hinges creaking, she pulled out a box that was kept in pristine condition. It had been so long since she needed to take it out. It's not like she left her house often. She let her eyes rest on the frame before resting her hands on its side as if it had been the most fragile thing to exist.

"See you soon, Reggie."

The lid of the box shut out the talking wizard.

There it was in all its glory. Number 12 Grimmauld Place. The rumbling and droplets of bricks had ceased, revealing the door camouflaged to all eyes except those with magic in their veins. She didn't know how to feel. Despite preparing herself for a few days and en route to apparate, she was very much not ready. Her fingers suddenly went numb. Although, the grip on her box remained tight as ever.

Y/N felt as if she had gone mad. The voice of her lover when he was a mere age of 12 played in her ears, followed by his laugh. Not even controlling her muscles, the corner of her lips curled up at the memory. The peri-puberty voice would be completely gone in a couple of years when he reached 17. Now it's a voice embroided in a picture frame.

She breathed in before taking a step forward. Just get it over with. Without even knocking, she made the boisterous creaking of the wooden door as her announcement. She had done the one thing she thought she wouldn't ever have to do. Step foot into the house her late lover would've inherited. The place reeks of him.

It was depressing- the thoughts and the place. She stood at the entrance of the incredibly narrow hallway, the walls that used to hold up framed portraits of credulous Black family members now empty with decaying portaits. Unmaintained. Corners of the wallpaper had start to curl into the air, its sharp edges prodding in the air- ready to launch attack to whomever finds confidence. The floor panels creaked with every slight step she made, and her body was enveloped by a sudden fright when she heard faint murmurs.

"Blood-traitors..."

That voice. As her head shot up with nostalgia and eyes sparkled with hope, a petite figure made way into her peripheral, stepping down from the staircase. If Y/N had to use better vocabulary, she would describe it as an aged old creature with wrinkles on its skin that matched trenches of mountains, on the other hand, she would describe it as what you would imagine sagging skin. The witch stood in the entrance, suddenly feeling the box slipping in her grip as she stared at the elf with a wide smile.

Feeling a presence in a house he was sworn to protect, the elf turned to face the witch. No, the magic in her wasn't tainted. It hadn't been touched. At all. Pure. His eyes widened while the corner of his lips curled up. A smile he had only been giving to his Mistress Walburga Black for Godric knows how long.

"Miss!" The house-elf exclaimed. Holding his cleaning equipments close to his chest, he couldn't believe it. She was right in front of him. In flesh. Excitement jitters in his frail old body, excitement he forgot he could experience. This was beyond a good day. This make ups for the blood traitor who found shelter in the house he had been taking care of ever since the Black household had vanished. Well, partially. Kreacher did not know how to react.

"Kreacher." The witch retorted back, a grin now playing on her face as she stepped closer towards him. She remembered how the house-elf was always so loyal and dedicated to the Black household. Well, to all except Sirius. There were summers when she had resided in the house- times when she truly had Regulus all to herself. Even though she wished those moments were calm and peaceful, it truly was not. The bricks of the house stayed solid until chaos erupted from the same source every single time. Sirius. Y/N lost counts of how many times she had left Regulus' room to meet the scowls on Sirius' face. Shouts after screams, arguments after disagreements- it was the norm for the Black household until Sirius had left home. Then there were never much noise.

If there was one thing Sirius was right about, it was the more time Y/N and Regulus had spent time together- the deeper they were in the hell-hole of trouble.

The house-elf stared up in amazement, "Miss! Kreacher has missed you! Kreacher has lost count how long it has been since Kreacher had seen Miss!"

Sitting on the edge of her tongue, the witch readied herself to reply to the joyness but not a word. Not a speckle of sound was made. How long has it truly been? It was a foolish question to ask since she had been counting ever since Regulus had left home and never came back. A decade and a half. A chunk of one's life and she still believed that her heart could not be mended. Her heart heavy wherever she went, even the short walk through her garden. Maybe if she left her house more often and saw more people than those that came to visit hers for services, she would've moved on. Would it be wrong? To devote yourself to one person who you thought your future lied with, then find someone else? Would it be so selfish?

"It has been some time, Kreacher."

The house-elf nodded eagerly, he thought today would be like no other except for the fact that he now has another burden on his plate, "Kreacher hasn't seen Miss in so long, Kreacher asks what is Miss' business in the Black's home?"

"She's here for me."

The split second she gaped her mouth to respond, another much deeper voice responded. Standing at the staircase stood a man with little to no life in him, Azkaban truly sucked the life out of him. His skin lost its colour, grey and pale, almost sickly. His eyes looked like it sunk in deeper than before, he lost fat in his cheeks, and his beard somehow trimmed. He obviously controlled whatever he could, but a few months would not bring back the soul he had 12 years ago.

"Welcome back,” The wizard gave her a tight smile as if he knew she was trying to get under his skin. Well, she wasn't exactly trying- after years of not getting along together, it just happened naturally. Y/N tilted her head, "Thought I was meeting Dumbledore."

"Well," He shot back, leaning on the railings (that was enough for the house-elf to take his leave despite not wanting to), "You thought wrong. I have no idea how people falling for his tricks.”

She chuckled at the absurdity.

“What are you doing here?” Sirius shot an eyebrow at her question. For a moment she thought she had asked the wrong question. No. She did not. As he made down the last few steps, the man stood in front of her. At an angle, maybe with lots of alterations and blurring, he looked like her Reggie.

“It’s my home. Well, house,” He quickly corrected himself. “Though, I’m surprised.”

When he noticed she didn’t understand him, he continued, “This place was to be yours, was it not? But you left. Abandoned it even.”

While he had the joy to crane his neck around at the place that seemed to be holding onto its last thread, she had her eyes set on his face. He found it humorous. Funny. Amusing. There were not enough words in the English vocabulary to describe the burning in her chest. The wizard turned to her face, “So why are you not occupying it?”

“You’re infuriating as ever.”

“Thank you for the compliment.”

As much as she wanted to stupefy the man before her, there was one question she wanted an answer to. So many questions but she yearned to have its replied to. She mumbled, eyes wandering on the diminshed trimmings of the walls- something she suddenly became fascinated with, “How did you find out?”

He hummed, waiting for her to finish.

“How did you find out about him?”

Him. She clutched the cardboard box harder, leaving small indents of pressure that could be brought back with a little magic. Losing Regulus was something she had to make peace with, but having a photo framed of him that was capable of communicating with her did not make it easy. Especially when she had begged numerous times at the beginning where he had been. Where he had gone to.

'Your mind is clouded with questions that I cannot answer, and I am sorry that I will never be able give you that clarity. My absence will leave a hole in your days. I know that it is selfish of me to know of its consequence and still pursue with it but I wish you a good life, a life we talk so much of. A life that I can no longer be part of. No danger will trail you, our past is the past.'

The words were choked out of her throat as the sudden recall of his letter clenched her heart.

Sirius wet his lips, “Kreacher did. That was after I checked his room.”

Regulus' room. The room she had made enemies with ever since the disappearance. She bet it remained the same. The sheets made neat (just how Walburga liked it), the carpet inched slightly to an odd angle, the broomstick leaned against the wall, and the framed picture of them freed of dusts.

"Although, that elf never mentioned anything."

The glossy appearance of her eyes vanished into the air once she brought her attention back to the escapee in front of her. It was the same response she received when she had gone on her knees for the house-elf, begging with bursting springs out of her eyes.

You are truly cruel, Regulus.

"He said the same thing to me."

Now it was Sirius' time to be intrigued, "Were you not head over heels for my brother? Or am I missing some bits here?"

Y/N couldn't help but to chuckle. Sirius and Regulus was the face of the rebellion for the phrase 'blood runs thicker than water'. He did not know what happened to his brother, he did not seem to be bothered by it. They dare say Slyterins were full of hatred.

"Let's move to the tapestry."

Understanding of how suffocating it was in the narrow entrance, the two magical beings stood in the room that had generations of the Black family marked on. A room full of history. There was one name she only sought out for, and she lost herself in his name.

"I don't know either. One... one day," She cleared her throat, noticing how her emotions were gripping around her words. "He held me like it was our last time. I jokingly asked if he would miss me for a few hours. He didn't say anything. Once he left that door, he never came back home."

Her fingers traced over the 'some fifteen years earlier' text.

"I knew how strong he was. He was more than capable but I could not find sleep that night. It felt like there was something in me- telling me that something was not right. The bed felt wrong, the air was wrong- it all felt wrong. I then saw the sun awaking, so I did too. And on top of the kitchen table was this."

The wizard looked at the carboard box she was handing to him. He had been extremely curious as to what she was holding, but did not inquire. His breath stilled. The lid came off to reveal the young man he had grown up with. While he looked like he aged a hundred years with tattoos scattered all over his body, the wizard in the photo frame had encapsulated his youth. No moment would have prepared him when a voice rang into his ears.

"Oh, hello, brother."

Sirius nearly flipped the box out of his hands if it wasn't for Y/N's quick reflexes. The box floated in the air whilst the magic residue from her wand evaporated into the air.

"What- what is that!" Clearly he wasn't aware of the invention.

"A picture frame."

"Well, clearly it is! What do you take me for? A fool?"

Before he could snap another remark at her, Regulus chirped up, "I think we all do, Sirius."

The wizard took a step back as Y/N pulled out the frame out of the box, displaying the moving picture. It was as if Regulus was inside the frame. Stuck. It could not be.

"Regulus... I don't know how to explain it but he enchanted it as if it was him."

Sirius took a deep breath in before looking back at the picture frame, suddenly very aware of his surrounding. He did not know if he should throw a fist or flee from the room. What magic was this? He has never heard of an interactive picture frame.

"What dark magic have you guys dabbled in?"

Y/N threw a hard glance at him, "It is not dark magic."

"Then what is it? There is no such thing as a talking picture! I've seriously gone mad. Merlin."

Regulus and Y/N watched as Sirius gripped his mane of a hair, crouching onto the ground whilst he rock himself slowly. He was mumbling incoherent things under his breath. Regulus could not help the stiffle that escaped his lips. The younger wizard found it beyond amusing. It was entertaining him. At the sound, Sirius snapped up, pointing fingers at the picture frame.

"Why are you showing me this?"

"To show you how great of a wizard he was, Sirius. I, of all people, knew the dispute between you two. You don't need the closure but I know deep down, you wonder just the same as me. We grew up together under this roof and we both have so many unanswered questions."

"I know the irrational and troubling things we did back then, but we grew up, we saw things we didn't before. Despite all the evil we were in, Regulus and Kreacher refused to tell me what happened. Not a bit. I know that I cannot be the only one to mourn him because Regulus is more than a stranger- he's your baby brother."

Sirius's eyes met with her glossy ones, the term sounded so foreign to him. The man whose voice was not heard and thrown behind bars felt a pin poke his heart as he realized the woman before him seeked answers he now also wants.

[scribblesbyavi]

Dhwani - a beautiful dream.

We met at a friend's wedding and she was from the bride's side while I was from the groom's. Upon introduction, we started talking and it just kind of continued. I realised that she was younger than me but we instantly clicked. She seemed like an introvert as she didn't mingle with the other guests much. She was very friendly and told me that she has heard about me and my friend from her cousin. But it was already night time the first day so we couldn't talk much. So I looked forward to see her the next day.

In the morning, I kind of looked for her but couldn't find her. Then I went on to get some of my stuff from the car and that's when I saw her near the garden with a beautiful maroon shawl and some flowers in her hand, white and red roses. She was coming for the stairs and I approached towards her and suddenly some flowers fell out of her hand. I told her to stop a while and that I'll pick them up. I started picking them while looking at her and our eyes met each other's. It was not the first time that our eyes met because we had already seen each other the night before but this time was something different. I handed her the flowers, all but one petal. The last one, which I picked of a red rose and kept in my front pocket. She smiled and I asked, "What will you do with these flowers?", to which she replied that she would dry them and keep them inside her books. Amazingly, I loved dry flowers too. I thought to myself, "How in the world she loves them too? But it is not impossible right? I mean, who doesn't love flowers? but also dried?"

Then we both left for our rooms to get ready for the wedding.

It was my time to get dressed but some family member had already occupied my washroom and most of the hotel rooms were occupied and so I was asked to use one of the available rooms. I was okay with that as weddings can be such, specially when family members from all parts of the region have come to attend it. And some of them had reached the hotel on that very morning. Then I walked the hallway with some of my clothes and searched for the room. I found the room no. 207 and without thinking much I rang the door bell of the room and a little girl opened it. Her name was Mouni or Munni, as much as I remembered from all the introductions from yesterday. The important thing was that she was Dhwani's little sister. So I expected Dhwani to be nearby. I looked around the room as much as I could before going all the way inside and there she was, Dhwani, all dressed in her traditional attire.

Dhwani was standing in front of the mirror and she was looking absolutely stunning. I didn't say much. I just explained my situation that all the rooms were occupied so I was told to come here. She immediately acknowledged and graciously offered her washroom and sat on the bed. She started searching for something in her black bag. I planned to have a shower and change myself there itself. I came out after a while and asked if I could borrow a comb. She offered one and now we were getting ready together. It was just the two of us in the room now as Mouni has gone to have her breakfast. Dhwani was wearing a cream colored mekhela sador and was doing her touchups and her makeup. I was wearing my black kurta. I wanted to talk to her about something so I asked her about the makeup kit. She explained to me which item is called what and how it works. I heard words like primer, powder and messcara and understood most of it, may be because I wanted to understand. She said that the kit was only for occasions like this and otherwise she uses some kajal and lipstick only. Then she asked if she can do my makeup as well. And I agreed as most of my stuff were in my room which was occupied. So it was a win-win for me. She started with some moisturizer, followed by a cream, but during this very professional makeup process I was just looking at her eyes, and god her eyes, I could look at them all day. She was praising my skin the whole time and I swear that I never thought so highly of my face or my skin. It would be unfair to not add this but at one point I did try to see us together in the big mirror in front of us. And then suddenly some other people came in to the room and after a while her mother as well and to her she said that she was just helping everyone with their makeup and that she tried her hands a bit on me as well.

Then the whole day went by and we saw each other from time to time while the wedding rituals went by. There was people everywhere and everyone was busy with something, so as the both of us. But whenever we saw each other we exchanged smiles and that was a different feeling altogether.

In the afternoon we all went to change as the reception would start in a few hours. I quickly changed and came to the reception hall so that I can see her but she had not yet arrived. I went to the room where the newly married couple was getting ready and I saw that some flowers are not being used by the bride so I asked the hair dresser and also the bride if I could keep one. They both said okay and my friend gave me the task to create a playlist to play during the reception. I agreed and left after clicking a few pictures with them. But soon realised that I was not that great with party music. I sat near the music system and tried to create a playlist but all the songs I was coming up were the same old generic wedding songs that everyone plays in the weddings, whereas, I wanted to create something special for my friend. I went to the balcony for some inspiration and that is when Dhwani came to my rescue. It was as if she came there in search of me. She came and stood near me and I told her about the playlist. I don't know how but she was way comfortable with me. We both sat in the balcony and she instantly started working on the playlist. Now we were a team and both of us started picking songs one by one. I didn't quite knew some of the songs she had suggested, so she sang bits and parts of the song so that I could recognize them and after a while we were ready with a solid playlist with a perfect combination of party music and wedding songs. And that is when she asked me if I would like to go out with her for a walk as it was getting a bit hot inside the wedding hall and also that there is still some time for the couple to arrive at the reception.

So we took the back door and climbed down the stairs from the second floor to the ground. I was wearing a kurta and she was wearing a saree, both all dressed up, now walking the streets in the evening. This is when we passed by a grocery store upon which she said, "What if we went in like this all dressed up?" I laughed and asked her if she would like to go grocery shopping with me. To which she agreed playfully. In my head I could think of a kickass reply but only after a while, "but the kids are waiting for us at home, no?"

After walking for a while I made the gesture of throwing a cricket ball to which she asked what I did and I said, "nothing". That puzzled her a bit. Then I put my hand inside my pocket and found the flower that I kept from the bride's hair makeup. I gave the beautiful white flower to her and she took it with a smile. She asked what flower it is, to which I replied, "chrysanthemum". She nodded to that. Then I said that she could add this one to her collection of dry flowers. She nodded once again.

We kept walking and it was almost dark by then and so we decided to return. Then I thought to myself that we barely even talked. I wished that the walk could go on a little longer and that I could talk a bit more with her. That is when I saw an ice cream wala. I told her that we can have some ice cream and then we can go back. She agreed. Then we went to have ice cream. I had to get my chocolate ice cream and she took strawberry. This is when we waited a while to enjoy the ice cream and we talked about the wedding. While talking about both the families and their relations she mentioned that she is actually a bit of an introvert and that she can't approach anyone directly. Then I asked her how she was able to talk to me, to which she replied that she was introduced to me by her sister and that is when we started talking from the first day and so it kind of continued. May be we both knew each other from somewhere? I don't know.

I then told her about having a bit of self confidence in us because some things have to be said by us because no one else can think exactly like us so we have to be able to express them in our own way to the world. She then mentioned that she creates art and writes poems and that she also sings and plays the guitar. I was amazed and told her to play something for me as well someday. I also told her that I tried my hand on the ukulele but failed miserably. Then she said that may be I didn't try hard enough with proper focus and so I should give it one more try. Then we returned to the venue and decided to take the lift.

While walking towards the lift we talked about our favourite books and authors and she recommended me some of her favorites. I also read one of my favourite urdu poems to her in the lift and trust me when I say this that I don't usually do such things. And when the lift reached our floor and the door opened, it was playing our playlist in the reception hall. I said, "our background music" to which she smiled and then her phone rang. She told me to come after a while so that no one would know that we were together. She walked in to the hall and after a few minutes I went in. There were guests everywhere, guests taking photos with the newly wedded couple, everyone dancing and celebrating but we could still find each other in the crowd and smile at each other.

After a while we planned to have dinner so she went with her family and I went with mine. After dinner I couldn't find her. I thought she might be clicking pictures somewhere. So I went to meet my friends, some of them just came from downstairs. One friend of mine randomly talked about some family members already leaving. I didn't think it was her. But soon realised that she had left with her family without saying a word, without a good bye.

avis

(i don't usually do long form content here but let's see if my people likes it. thank you for supporting and loving my work so far. it means the world to me.)

[loserlvrss]

꒰ 𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄 ꒱ 최산

summary : maybe in another life you wouldn't have had a change of heart

genre : angst, san x afab!reader tws : language, mentions of trauma author notes : my mom triggered me so i wrote something sad instead of crying about it lolz word count : 0.7k

you felt guilty. you'd seen it and read it over a million times over. you heard about it from friends. you saw your parents do it to each other. but, you never thought it would've been the case for you. you prided yourself on knowing that you could never take after the stories you were told and would tell.

however, every time you looked in the mirror you were faced with a stranger. you wanted to know the eyes that appraised you, once again. they judged you, they haunted you. months ago, weeks ago even, you would look at yourself with a smile. you were proud of everything you had made for yourself. you were better — past the trauma of your childhood — everything was good, seemingly always going your way. you had it all; the good-paying job, the appropriate hobbies and coping mechanisms. you had the penthouse with a view, the boyfriend and friends people would dream of.

simply put, you had an envious lifestyle.

but, that was only superficial — surface level. you believed the lies the more times they came off your tongue: i'm happy. i'm grateful. i'm in love. it got worn out the more ears it'd hit. i'm happy. i'm happy.

well, happily lying through your teeth.

there was once a fire, but now there wasn't even something you could re-spark. you felt like a vessel. less-than human. a puppet on everyone else's strings.

somewhere along the lines everything began to change. your heartbeat slowed, your thoughts didn't cater to anything or anyone in specific. you weren't proud of the things you'd accomplished anymore. you didn't listen to the same songs, or use the same texting language.

it was terrifying, but you told yourself everyone goes through change. and, unfortunately you'd had a dreaded one of heart.

you, simply, didn't love living your life anymore. and, you didn't want to drag the people you once loved down with you when you eventually crumbled.

your chest felt hollow, and the tears were empty, but they stained your cheeks often these days. the touches you used to love were foreign; the soft skin and feather-light breaths. you were cooped up with a stranger, swapping spit and one-liners to grasp at straws. holding hands through the pain, telling each other that everything would be okay if you just waited out the storm. lips that once made confessions were too scared to confess what you both knew couldn't be resuscitated.

"i-i'm sorry." you wanted to comfort him, but you also knew that you shouldn't. you weren't strong minded — less willed — and you already desired reeling back. "i really hated the saying 'its not you, its me'. i never really understood it before, but i do now. and, i'm sorry. its my fault i can't love you. i really wanted to, i did, but i don't anymore. i never thought i'd take after my fucking parents — as if we're only getting older — and i'd give anything to go back to when we first met." you tried to silence your tears, the burning throughout your entire body, "maybe in another life... i would've really liked to be in love with you for a little longer."

you were what each other needed, and what you ultimately needed was time. you would've really loved to do mundane tasks with him and enjoy them again. you would've really loved growing old with him. to watch your kids graduate. to sing songs on a porch swing and live life together. to end up rotting in a stone garden together. you would've really loved to love him, but your heart didn't swell with his thought. no, not like it did a couple years back.

maybe you two were too scared to learn to live without the other. maybe you'd become so codependent, and that's why you couldn't accept the grave you'd been digging, and were now stepping into.

maybe in another life it didn't have to end like this. maybe in another life you could've happily lived out each others dreams. had kids or a pet. maybe in another life san could've been the love of your life. maybe in another life you weren't full of dread at the thought. maybe your hands wouldn't shake. maybe you wouldn't cry. maybe in another life you had never met at all. and, you can't help but think that maybe in another life that would've been better.

your hand reached out, pressing against his broad back as he faced the wall. you knew him, and you knew he was trying to front being okay. you knew that since you two were demoting each other to strangers, he wouldn't cry in front of you anymore. you knew he loved you so much, and that's why he was really letting you go.

"you'll always be the best part of me."

reblogs, likes and comments are greatly appreciated! thank u!

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[thelov3lybookworm]

Prone to Infatuation

day 1: human tamlin

modern!au

Summary: Feyre won't mind

•○●⛦●○•

A/n: happy @tamlinweek to all my fellow girlies who love tamtam!!! heres my lil fic for the first day of the week ❣️

enjoyy!!

Coming over to visit her friend's ex had probably not been a great idea. It had been, obviously, a hard decision to make.

But did she regret it?

Absolutely not.

He had been her friend too once, and he did not deserve to be thrown aside after the messy break up.

Sure, what he did was not the best thing to do, but it came from a place of good reasoning. He should not have locked Feyre up in their shared apartment, but Y/n could not find it in herself to blame his actions when she knew of his past.

He had never had parents that loved each other, and so the only way he saw his father caring for his mother was when he would lock her up in the house. Tamlin was young, and did not understand that it was not love that he witnessed, but being a psychology student, Y/n could understand what he went through.

He could have definitely handled it better, but if someone just sat him down to tell him where he went wrong, he could have become better.

She was not erasing his mistakes or saying that he did not make them, but she understood his reasns behind them. He had made mistakes, sure, but so had Feyre when instead of just talking to him, she just up and left and moved on while Tamlin was left with no one.

So today, Y/n had decided to pay him a visit after hearing from Lucien that he seemed to be getting better.

With a deep breath, Y/n lifted her hand to knock on the door to his apartment. A few moments filled with the sounds of shuffling and one loud crash later, his form filled the doorway.

He looked... unkempt. His hair sticking all out in all the wrong places, dark circles under his eyes... He just looked so miserable.

"Um, hi."

He blinked at Y/n, seeming not to hear her words. But then he straightened, the shock fading from his eyes as he gave her an uncertain smile.

"Hey Y/n. What brings you here?"

"What, I can't visit my friends without reason?"

He blinked, leaning back. "Uhh. You can of course. I'm sorry-"

Instantly, guilt spread through Y/n. She reached out to touch the back of his hand, staring up at him. "Tam, I was joking."

"Oh. Right, sorry-"

With a sigh, Y/n wrapped her arms around his torso- shirtless torso-letting her head rest on his chest for a moment until he hugged her back.

He let her go after a moment, the sadness, the loneliness that shone on his face making Y/n want to commit atrocities.

As he led her in, she studied her surroundings, swallowing.

The place was meticulously clean looking, except for a few pieces of clothing here and there.

The house looked nothing like it had the last time she visited with Mor. That was back when Feyre had called them up to break her out of the house.

Everything had been lying on the ground back then, as if thrown around in a fit of rage. Y/n had been disgusted, but now all she felt was sympathy.

"So... how have you been."

Tamlin glanced back at her as he snatched his t-shirt form the back of the couch. "Better."

Y/n smiled, nodding.

"That's great."

He studied her for a moment, his eyes skeptical. But then he settled down on one of the chairs at the kitchen island, sighing. "It really is. You were right. Therapy does help."

That statement surprised Y/n. She could not remember talking to him about therapy except for that one time she had mentioned about it in passing, telling him something about her chosen subject of study.

"You are going to therapy?"

He offered her a small smile. "Yes. And it's been helping a lot."

Y/n placed her bag on the counter as she mirrored his position and smiled, genuine and happy. "I'm so glad to hear that, Tam. How is it going?"

"The therapist reminds me a lot of my mother, with the way she looks, the way she yells at me sometimes," He laughed. "I'm becoming better, that much I know. I've come to terms with the fact that not everyone stays forever, and that it is okay to let go of people. It took me over two months to get over my fear of losing people, but its working."

Her eyes prickled at the genuine joy he radiated, the way he seemed more open and vulnerable and happy about it too.

"That's amazing. You atleast have your friends, even though she left. You'll always have us."

He paused for a moment. "Does she know you're visiting?"

Y/n sighed. "She is not my mother, she does not need to know about my whereabouts."

"So she doesn't."

Her silence was answer enough for him.

"You should lave then. I don't want you to jeopardise your friendship just because you came to see her abusive ex."

Tears gathered in Y/n's eyes at his thoughtfulness.

"She won't mind."

I hope she doesn't.

If she got mad about Y/n just visiting Tamlin, Y/n couldn't fathom what Feyre would do if she found out about Y/n's little crush on Tamlin.

"Are you hungry?"

A few hours, a bottle of wine and two large pizzas later, Y/n found herself spread on Tamlin's couch like a blanket as she giggled at something a drunk Tamlin mumbled from where he sat on the ground, leaning back against the couch next to her head.

Silence settled between them again, the awkwardness from a few hours ago nowhere in sight.

"I should get going."

Tamlin glanced at the clock on the opposite wall at that, nodding solemnly. "It's getting late."

Y/n rolled over, reaching up to twirl a strand of his hair around her fingers. "I don't want to though."

He turned his head to look at her, his face flushed from the wine. "Stay then."

Y/n smirked. "Already trying to get me into your bed huh. At least take me out on a date first."

He laughed, head thrown back. "Would this not be considered a date?" He said, gesturing to the half empty eaten pizza on the low coffee table.

"No."

He grinned, leaning his head closer to hers. "Fine then. Are you free tomorrow? Let me take you out on this date you want."

Suddenly, Y/n felt much more sober. "What?"

He huffed. "You basically have I like Tamlin written on your forehead in red paint, love. You can't expect me to not notice."

Y/n shot up, wrapping her arms around herself to do what, she didn't know. "I- I'm sorry-"

"Don't be. We're humans. We tend to fall in love and are prone to infatuation."

Y/n gave him an unamused look as she stood, gathering her things and heading towards the door.

She could hear him following her, but she ignored the urge to just die and reached for her coat hanging next to the door.

Tried to.

His hand caught hers before she could grab the material, tugging her back into his hard chest.

"I am not kidding Y/n. I mean it. Let me take you out for dinner. And not just because I want you in my bed."

She turned her head to look at him, failing to hide her blush due to his proximity.

"What..."

He gave her a dazzling smile. "Let me take you out on a date. Let me court you, the way you read about in your books."

"Really?"

He nodded. "Really."

"Okay..."

"So I'll pick you up at seven?"

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[that-ari-blogger]

That's My Boy (Eclipse Lake)

Eclipse Lake is one of those episodes that anyone who’s aware of The Owl House knows by name. This is one of the episodes that is used to recommend the series, and it earns that reputation pretty much through one scene.

I mentioned last time that Knock, Knock, Knockin’ on Hooty’s Door carries the series by taking most of the pacing issues from a shortened season into itself, and this is what I mean. Eclipse Lake is a slow burn that focuses in on one theme and explores it in detail, that being relationships.

Essentially, this episode characterises by implication. It positions Hunter and Amity as mirrors in order to shed light on Belos as a father figure and boss, as well as Luz as a girlfriend. It even throws in Eda as a spanner out of left field to orbit around this thematic as well.

This metaphor has gotten away from me.

Let me explain.

SPOILERS AHEAD: (The Owl House; Jurassic Park; Critical Role Campaigns 1, 2, and 3)

This is a Hunter episode, and I want to clarify my reading of this character and his story before I begin anything specific. I don’t see this character as a villain, or in need of a redemption arc. When he switches sides later on in the series, it’s because he learns about what is happening behind his back. His moral code doesn’t change, he doesn’t get redeemed. He gets a support group.

Which brings me to his connection to Amity. Hunter and Amity are remarkably similar characters. They both have an abusive parental figure, whether through physical violence or emotional manipulation or both, and that has informed their personalities. The specifics are different, yes, they are different characters and that needs to be understood. But their similarities are also important.

In that vein, the biggest difference between Amity and Hunter is that Amity has people outside of her family who will look after her and back her up. The opening crawl of the episode sets this out really well, with the Owl House crew dealing with a problem without a hitch. These people trust each other, and their biggest difference of opinion is about music.

Meanwhile, I believe this is the episode in which Belos’ face is revealed, and I mean that in a literal sense and a metaphorical one. We see the most about his parenting tactics from Hunter’s behaviours, at the same time as learning what his villainy actually looks like. I will talk about all of Belos’ character designs in a later blog, for reasons that will become obvious. Instead, I want to talk about his relationship with Hunter.

“Would you like to see how it works, Hunter?”

So, this exchange, on paper, isn’t that bad. Belos is telling his nephew about the world he will give him. He is reassuring him and telling him to stay safe. There are only two things that make it unnerving. Well, two obvious things, and both of them are Hunter.

“I didn’t mean to hide, Emperor Belos.”

Thing One, is Hunter himself, or more specifically, the fact that this relationship is so one sided it almost hurts to watch. Belos speaks of grandeur, and yet his nephew is palpably uncomfortable in his presence, and eternally seeking to prove himself. The affection feels hollow because Hunter doesn’t understand it as affection, he understands it as a test. Hunter will only be happy when he is useful to his uncle, and he treats any acceptance he receives as transactional, as if he has to earn it. I wonder where he learned that.

Thing Two, is “Hunter,” the word, and how Matthew Rhys delivers it. Because it isn’t treated as a name. The tone of everything Belos says in this scene is informal, except for that one word. It reads to me like an insult, or a title. Belos addresses Hunter by his job title and has given the child no name beyond it. He sees his nephew only as a tool, and so all of the affection reads as hollow.

Notice how, as Belos speaks, he guides Hunter to the doorway, into darkness. He leads Hunter away from the light, away from knowledge, into ignorance. Almost as if willful ignorance is something Belos thrives in.

Which has a weird affect on the audience perception. The thing about humans is that when we perceive something as normal, we tend to not examine it further. So, the unsettling nature of the conversation provokes us to look deeper at what Belos is actually saying, and we see… not much.

By which, I mean that Belos never actually says anything in this conversation, nothing of meaning. He just agrees with Hunter and lets him drive his own conclusions.

“The Titan has big plans for you.”

That sounds great, but it isn’t anything. It's like a book report given by a year seven. It’s an awful lot of nothing to try and convince you there is more behind it. It’s a nebulous saying that translates to “watch this space.”

Now, people say things like this in real life, and they work because the saying means something. For an example that won’t ruffle too many feathers, Jurassic Park has the iconic “life finds away” line. Which, in isolation, doesn’t really mean much.

You could say this to make yourself feel better if you wanted, perhaps as a form of optimism. But the line doesn’t carry that meaning in the story. It’s about nature and evolution and what that means for the humans. It means that in order to survive and thrive, you need to change. Sometimes physically, sometimes intellectually. It’s also a line about freedom, and that life cannot truly be contained.

Saying “life finds a way” to reassure someone is all well and good, but it's an empty saying without its context.

For another example, this time with absolutely zero subtext, Taliesin Jaffe. To avoid gushing too much, the man is one of the few D&D players who can accurately roleplay a high wisdom score, and has displayed this many a time during the, as of current writing, three campaigns of Critical Role.

During the first campaign, Mr Jaffe’s character, said, off handedly, “life needs things to live” in regard to a specific tree requiring sustenance. An orchard can’t grow in a desert, there are certain criteria that need to be met. However, the context amplified the meaning. The first campaign was centred around the idea of community, and the idiom “no man is an island”. Companions will hold you up, keep you alive, and make your life worth living.

This gets taken out of context twice in later campaigns, and it gets poked fun at both times.

In campaign three, in a moment of exploration and new self-understanding, the line is said again, and the cast points out how little it makes sense here. The phrase is here meant to encourage a character to fill time and do something interesting because life needs things to live. On a surface level, it's kind of appropriate, but not really. It's about life worth living, not time worth spending.

Campaign two is interesting, because the saying applies 100% to what is being said, but because of the characters, it gets joked at anyway. Taliesin has just given a monologue (because of course he has) about how you only get one life, and you need to use it well and fill it with things that make it worthwhile, and so “life needs things to live” is said in response.

But the Mighty Nein were a more plain-spoken troop than the previous adventure. This speech happens less than two percent into the story, and the characters at this point don’t really care for the philosophy and poetry of the idea. Instead, they point out how easily it could have been said any other way without seeming pretentious. In this case, the line was less meaningful than explaining the character’s mindset in simple terms.

Hey look at that, Grimwalkers have a thing about eyes. Artificial humans with a thing about eyes. That's very Bladerunner. A possible Grimwalker character might have a theme of agency and justifying existence beyond their assumed use. I am going to use this in my analysis of Hollow Mind, so hold onto it for now.

Linking this back to Belos, the line about the Titan would be really poetic if it was said in earnest and in context. Because yes, a line about how fate can make martyrs or monsters of anyone would be really powerful. It could talk about being born with talents or discovering you have a gift and putting that to use, seeing your destiny laid out because of skills only you possess. But here, it just means “pipe down and follow me blindly.”

Which is either emotional abuse or spiritual abuse, depending on how you square it. I read it as both.

Keep that in mind for the rest of my series on The Owl House, because it will colour how I read Belos. Everything this man does is a façade of critical thinking, cut down by his own lack of commitment. Essentially, the man is a hypocrite pretending to be deep, and I think that was an intentional decision on behalf of the writers.

“Seem’s clear to me. Come back with results or else, you can figure out the rest.” “Luz wouldn’t make that kind of a threat. I’m an awesome girlfriend.” “Has she told you that?”

I genuinely went into this episode planning to write a whole spiel about Odalia, but it took this exchange to for me to realise that Odalia is kind of irrelevant at this point in the series. Amity doesn’t need her affection anymore and has moved past her. This episode is about the difference between Luz and Belos.

Because, just from this exchange, we can see that Hunter assumes the worst from everything. He assumes affection is transactional, as has been stated above, but he has a scuffed idea of what affection looks like. Because if someone loves you, truly, they don’t have to say it. Affection and a healthy relationship is shown not told.

The best way I can explain this is through the song Nobody, by the Crane Wives. The band has a reputation for dealing with complex emotions through their songs and have a choke hold on the AMV side of the internet only rivalled by the songs from Epic The Musical.

“She woke me up at dawn, soft spoken as a spider Spinning webs of holy words while she was still asleep Kill the moon beneath my window, pull the covers tighter And hear her voice go swinging like a hatchet through the trees”

The opening verse sets up the story. The lover is represented as a predator, the spider who has caught the perspective character in a web made of compliments. A voice that can be both divine, and violent like a hatchet. This builds, adding addiction imagery through the invocation of cigarettes, as well as contrasting the lover with what is ostensibly a beast outside. Then the chorus:

“Nobody ever loved me, ever loved me. Nobody ever loved me Like she tells me, she does.”

Show don’t tell isn’t a rule for how to write, it’s a tool for how to make a story feel real. If you want your audience to trust you, show it to them. If you don’t, highlight that they are being told it.

Here, the affection between the singer and her lover is entirely conveyed by the idea that the lover tells the protagonist that she is affectionate. She tells her that she cares about her more than anybody else. But this is being told to the protagonist, which makes the audience doubtful, and more inclined to trust what we are being shown, which isn’t a healthy relationship at all.

Then there is the fact that the repetition implies this is a mantra, something the protagonist tells herself to make her feel better.

“I’m trembling in the eye of the only storm I’ve ever known.”

The song also implies that this is the protagonist’s first relationship, and she doesn’t know better. She thinks this is what true love actually is, which leads me back to Hunter.

Hunter thinks this is normal, and so assumes that it is normal for everyone else.

“We have a lot in common, Blight. We’re both trying to show what we can bring to the table. And we can’t fail, because there’s nothing worse than disappointing someone who thinks you’re special.”

Something Hunter doesn’t get enough credit for is how he is almost perfect at reading people. In a previous episode, he psychoanalysed Luz, and here is calling Amity’s bluff with uncomfortable accuracy. Amity has been raised by Odalia fear failure just like him. But there was an almost there, and it is a pretty glaring flaw, Hunter doesn’t understand relationships.

In the previous episode, Hunter was blindsided by Luz’s ability to befriend him and give him kindness despite their opposing allegiance, and here he doesn’t understand that an affectionate relationship doesn’t include ultimatums. Luz has chosen emojis that could be misconstrued because it doesn’t occur to her that you could read the messages like that. The ultimatum doesn’t cross her mind, so she doesn’t go out of her way to clarify. Why would she? What option is there other than kindness?

And that is Luz in a nutshell, isn’t it? A character who is fundamentally kind and uses that to change people and inspire them to be better.

This isn’t the only time Belos and Luz are shown as parallels, and it is telling that, on a surface level they are similar in just about every aspect. The difference is in the nuance. Luz is genuine, for one, but there are a ton of other little differences that completely alter the meaning.

For example, both are trickster characters who don’t rely on physical prowess to defeat opponents. But where Luz is a tactician by necessity, Belos pretends to be the underdog. Also, Luz choses to subdue her opponents instead of killing them because she’s kind. Belos does it because they will be useful to him later, and he can hold the mercy over their head like a bargaining chip.

Also, Luz and Belos both rely on other people to help them achieve their goals. They are leaders and organisers. However, Luz leads from the front and inspires people to achieve great things, while Belos scares people forwards and pushes them to their extremes against their better judgement.

The two are superficially similar, but their differences are significant. Belos pretends to be the person that Luz is naturally. Although not specifically Luz. Belos creates an ideal and claims it to be himself, which is why he is so infuriated when Luz achieves it effortlessly. Belos' name means beauty, but light is what truly shines.

“Fool’s blood bad. U okay? Come home? Of course, this is Luz we are talking about.”

I mentioned at the start of this post that this episode only works because of its predecessor, and here’s why: This episode is filler.

If you think about this, the episode doesn’t push the plot forward in any meaningful way. The Harpy Eda storyline is artificial and added in this episode, so you could theoretically skip the episode and not miss anything.

So why am I wrong here?

Well, the episode not pushing the plot forward plays into its actual purpose, psychological storytelling. The fact that this episode is a dead end is the point, it’s a dead end that could have been avoided if Amity had understood the relationship she was in, and over the course of the episode, she does realise, and the futility sinks in.

This episode pushes the emotional story forward, rather than the overarching plot.

Fool’s blood is a play on fool’s gold, a substance that looks shiny but is in actuality useless. Amity can accept the failed job because she learned something about herself, and the fact that nothing will change if things go wrong is reassuring to her.

Take a guess at for whom this isn’t true.

“Since I failed my last mission, I thought: Hey, a chance to make up for it! But I can’t go back empty handed. [Laughs] Not again. Long story short, this is my grave. Want me to make you one?” “This is really bumming me out.” “That’s just life, rat. Everyone has a use, and if you don’t, bye bye. Your friend gets it.”

Please, don’t let Zeno Robinson’s phenomenal acting skill distract you from the fact that Hunter is wrong here. Like, he has reason to believe what he says, but that’s just not how life works. People don’t have uses; you don’t have to justify your existence or value. Your innate value is the benchmark for everything.

In other words:

“You know, you were right. We do have a lot in common. I grew up thinking everything was an opportunity to justify existing, but there are people out where who won’t make you feel worthless. You just have to let yourself meet them.”

The fact that Flapjack is a key player in an episode about Hunter suffering in an unhealthy relationship and rejecting positive reinforcement is a neat metaphor. Specifically, because he acts as the personification of that relationship, a creature with wings that can go wherever and give its wielder the ultimate freedom. But Hunter rejects him, and the relationship.

The teleport thing is Hunter's signature spell, as it were. But we've seen this before. Eda and Lilith used this in their duel at the end of season one. I wonder what that means.

Amity’s speech doesn’t work because Hunter doesn’t have that support group, instead he has desperation bordering on madness. Not everyone will accept help, some people need to help themselves.

Eda is a weird tie into this theme, but I think its worth discussing her interaction with the Owl Beast. In this episode, it is revealed that her ideas for how to effectively communicate have not involved actually talking.

Eda’s relationship with the Owl Beast isn’t romantic or parental, it’s a relationship with herself. It hasn’t occurred to her until now that being nice to herself is an option. The Owl Beast’s side of the bargain is literally just “eat”. Basically, Eda should take care of herself, and in exchange, she will be able to do great things.

That’s a weirdly thematic backing to a comedy subplot.

Final Thoughts

I could do a shot for shot breakdown of any scene in this episode. The cinematography and direction are impeccable. From the fact that Hunter’s POV is almost always looking up, and therefore making him seem less powerful, to the little moment when Amity has been captured and the camera uses Kikimora’s robot to frame her as trapped and boxed in.

If I get enough requests for it, I might to a breakdown for the fight sequence, because that needs its own post. So, if you want that, lemme know.

Next week is Yesterday’s lie, and I get to talk about Camilla Noceda. So stick around if that interests you.

Previous - Next

[sanjismywhore]

Alone

Spirit! Carlos Oliveira x Reader

Warnings: angst, sfw, mention of grief, death of a loved one.

(This is based on a Character ai bot by @/somberkitty)

A/N: This might make you cry 🥲

—————————————————————————

It's been a year since Carlos tragically died in Raccoon City. The incident left you empty and distraught. You'd miss him much more…if you didn't still see him every day.

You couldn’t ignore his ghostly figure floating behind you as you stared at your reflection in the mirror. His body was so completely translucent that you could see the other side of your room through him. The feeling of his hands was faint, barely there as they gripped your waist. His cold, spectral touch sent a long shiver down your spine.

"Don't look at me like that, babe. Aren't you happy to see me?" He teased, burying his face into the nook of your neck.

You couldn’t muster the strength to smile even if you wanted to. It wasn’t the same. His warmth wasn’t there. “I wish you were here.” You mumbled, still hurting internally from his death.

Carlos laughs in an attempt to lighten your mood, his faint grip loosening on you as he pulls back. “I am here, just under different circumstances. C’mon, don't be so gloomy, you know how I hate seeing you get all mopey." He pressed a kiss to your cheek, but you couldn’t feel anything.

“I wish I could touch you.” You finally looked into his eyes as tears began to well up in your own. Your bottom lip quivered but you held it back with your teeth.

Carlos sighed as he noticed your pained expression, “Me too. You know what? Maybe if you close your eyes real tight and wish for it reeeaaal hard... it’ll work." He grinned.

You didn’t take too kindly to his joking manner, “Don’t joke about this.” you replied firmly

"Ah, don’t be like that, sweet pea. Here I am, being a cheery little ghost and you already hate me?" Carlos retorts with a faux pout, leaning in to plant a quick kiss on the top of your head. Although deep down he understood your pain, feeling guilty for putting you through it.

“You know that’s not true. I love you so much.” You sniffled as you tried to wipe the tears from your eyes.

Carlos’s smile dropped into a sorrowful expression at your words. He pressed his face into your neck, nuzzling you from behind. “I wish I told you that more in life, you know? If I had been more vocal… more affectionate, you wouldn't be feeling so much pain." He murmured, remorsefully.

Tears begin to stream down your face. “I miss you… Every. Single. Day.” Your pained tone emphasized each word.

You tried to hold back your tears as best as you could. His ghostly presence only reminded you of what you could no longer have. It brought you closer to breaking.

"I miss you too, more than you can imagine...” Carlos ushers you to face him, cupping your cheeks with both of his hands. “I feel so shitty for leaving you like this… I hate seeing you mourn. I wish I could just be here, to wipe your tears and hold you close when you cry..."

His thumbs stroked your cheeks. You only barely feel his touch, like a gentle breeze against your skin.

“I don’t know if I can live like this…”You croaked, attempting to lean into his nonexistent touch.

This time, Carlos wraps his arms around you. "Shh, please don't say that. I'm still with you. I'd never leave you all on your own. I want to be by your side, through thick and thin, and make sure you're safe, sound, and happy."

You scoff in frustration at the situation, “But I don’t want this to be my life. Talking to a ghost who I can’t feel or kiss…” You ramble on, sounding more pained than Carlos had initially thought.

He was your drive, your passion, your reason to live. Without that, what is the point of living?

"I know…” He sighed, leaning closer to press his forehead against yours. Carlos closed his eyes as he spoke, “It hurts me so fucking much that you can’t feel me… God, if I could go back and prevent everything, I’d be here.”

His voice was starting to crack with pain, “I’m such an idiot… couldn’t even protect myself..” He mumbled, looking away from you shamefully. It was evident he felt extremely guilty, and shameful that he died.

After an anxious beat of silence, you spoke up again. “Do you think I’ll join you when I die?” I look into his eyes.

Carlos falls silent for a moment, pondering the question. "I hope so. You’ve been through too much in your life… But don't think about that just yet, for now just live your life to its fullest. I will always be right here just in case, like a guardian angel." Carlos gives you a small smile while running his ghostly fingers through your hair.

You stare at him as he smiles back lovingly while stroking your hair. The small action is enough to make your willpower crumble beneath your feet. In an instant, you’re reduced to a sobbing, trembling puddle.

Carlos’s eyes widen once you start crying. His arms hold you close, and his ghostly hands attempt to wipe away your tears with tender caresses.

"No.. no no, please don't cry.” He coos, trying to comfort you.

His plea fell on deaf ears as you continued sobbing, “I-i can’t do it… I can’t do this without you…”

Carlos shushed you gently and attempted to wipe away your tears again, his body beginning to sway from side to side to soothe you.

"Shhh, shh. You don't have to do this without me at all.” He tried to get you to look at him. “Just think of it like this... We’ll just have a bit more distance between us and just can't hug and kiss like we used to. We can live this way, you will be fine I promise." Carlos responds, trying his hardest to be reassuring whilst hiding his misery.

“Carlos. Please be real for a second.” You beg between sobs.

The ghost suddenly stops swaying back and forth, becoming completely still with his arms no longer wrapped around you. Carlos looks back at you, his expression now changed to a more sober look. “This hurts me just as much as it’s hurting you. Trust me, baby.”

Carlos's eyes darken with sadness for a moment, “I try to hide it... put on a positive face and pretend everything is alright, for you. But every night I see you fall asleep with tears in your eyes and cry a little myself, missing the warmth of our bed and your beautiful body lying next to me." He confesses.

“I wish I could bring you back.” You sniffle.

"I wish you could too..." Carlos responds, his face changing to one of melancholy. "Just... promise me one thing." He looks deep into your eyes with adoration.

“Yes?” You reply.

"Keep living your life without me. Don't stop enjoying the little things in life. Like seeing the sunrise, taking a walk in the rain, or getting yourself a nice juicy cheeseburger. Don't let yourself fall into such a deep pit of misery that you're unable to pull yourself back out, promise me that, (Name)." He looks at you with a firm and serious glint in his eyes, hoping you’ll keep that promise.

“It’s so hard…” You pout, glancing away for a moment.

Carlos sighed, "But you can do it, for me. That's all I want. Just for you to enjoy life without me." Carlos offers you a soft smile, his face beginning to flicker as the ghost is consumed by sadness.

You sniffle again, “It’ll be really hard.”

"I know I ask a lot from you, but just try, ok? That's all I ask for. I have faith in you, I believe in you. Please. You are my heart and my life, but I don't want you to let my death take yours too. Live, for me."

You soak in his words, suppressing your doubts and slowly nodding in agreement.

"Thank you..." Carlos exhales with relief. Suddenly, a wave of exhaustion hits him, a weight settling on his shoulders.

"Hey, is it ok if I rest a little bit? I've spent so much energy talking to you that it's starting to take its toll on me... and I'd rather not disappear right now..." He explains

You blink a couple of times, not understanding what that entails, but you still nod. “Yeah, get some rest.”

Carlos nods in response, his energy beginning to fade. “Ok... I'll be back... just... let me rest for a while..." Carlos slurs, his body beginning to flicker and fade from your view.

“I’ll see you again tomorrow?” You ask.

Carlos nods again, his form almost completely dissipated. "This is my promise... I'll be back. Just need a little time to recover. You'll be fine until then. I'll see you soon alright?"

As the spectral figure of Carlos fades to nothing, you're left standing there by yourself, just listening to the silence around you. As you stare ahead at where Carlos just was you can't help but tear up all over again.

The silence is unbearable in many ways, but the worst of it comes from your inability to hear his voice.

You moved across the room to sit on your bed. Then you laid down. As you lay on your bed, there is nothing to keep you from crying... tears flow down your cheeks and you can feel a void spreading through your heart. All that you have left of your lover is a few photos and your memories, while your life without him seems dark and cold. You miss him, all day and all night. You just want to feel that warmth and love and embrace once more. You want your Carlos back.

[imagine-a-life-like-this]

Sugar and Spice : Chapter 12

Word Count : 1.7k

Warnings : swearing, alcohol, clubbing, cheating, possessiveness, stalking, mentions of divorce, mentions of manipulation

          He stares at the divorce papers on his desk, his name signed at the bottom. Then he thought about the girl sleeping upstairs unaware to his disappearing feelings. So hopelessly in love, so naïve to the fact that he’s slipping away and there’s nothing she can do. Hurting her was the last thing he wanted to do. Minho from a year ago couldn’t even fathom leaving his high school sweetheart. He was so sure she was his everything.

            One nasty fight later and he was signing up for the site Changbin showed him weeks before. He knew that getting a sugar baby wasn’t going to solve anything, it wouldn’t fix his marriage, but he never expected it would end it completely.

            He scrolled through the endless profiles, none of them piquing his interest. It calmed his heart, made him feel like he was right in thinking that Mi-sun was the one for him. He was ready to delete his profile, pretend he never created it in the first place, and apologize to his beautiful wife. But then he saw her. Standing in front of the mirror in all her glory, the most stunning woman he had ever seen. And he was messaging her before he could stop himself.

            She was just a sugar baby to him at first. Someone to turn to for attention when his marriage was at its worst. When him and Mi-sun were at each other’s throats, unable to speak without arguing. But soon he found himself turning to her even when things were good at home. Asking to see her when he should have been heading home to his wife. Because whenever he was with her, it was like Mi-sun didn’t exist.

            It was wrong, he knew that. But he couldn’t stop himself. She was a drug and he was an addict. Being with her was a need, something he craved every single day. Even when he was home with his wife. He could barely look at her, knowing that if she knew the truth, it would kill her. But after some time, he stopped caring. He couldn’t for the life of him place the moment he fell in love, but he knew that he did.

            And he’s messing it up by being too scared to tell his wife he didn’t love her anymore. He didn’t even need to mention Y/n or his ongoing affair. Falling out of love was reason enough for divorce, and he didn’t want to string her along any longer. He wanted to let her go, allow her to find someone that could love her the way he loves Y/n. The way he used to love her.

~

            She was thankful for Hyunjin. He always knew what she needed, knew how to get her out of her head before she spiralled too far into the deep end. He would run to her side no matter what, no questions asked. Hyunjin was her rock, her safe space, her soulmate.

            “Let’s forget about both of them and just enjoy tonight.” He said as he poured them another drink. She was still getting ready when he showed up, wanting to look hot enough to make Minho regret not leaving his wife, hot enough to make Cheol regret the words he said. “We’ll find you someone new if we have to. Someone better.” He handed her the drink he made, holding his out for her to cheers. She gave him a soft smile.

            “I don’t need someone new when I have you, Jinnie.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead, telling her that he’s ready to run away and elope whenever she wants. “Don’t say things you don’t mean because I just might take you up on that.” They both shared a laugh before clinking their cups together and gulping their drinks down. “Let’s get out of here.”

~

            Hate was a strong word. He knew it the second he said it that he didn’t mean it. How could he hate her when he loved her so much? Joshua understood the feeling. The want to hate her but being unable to. As if she put them under a spell they just couldn’t break.

            No matter what she does, no matter the pain she puts him through, he just can’t bring himself to hate her. It was a curse and a blessing. A curse because he knows she doesn’t love him. She fell in love with someone else despite his best efforts. A curse because he tried to move on, tried to get back into the dating game, but he compared every potential date to her, and none of them measured up. A curse because he stayed loyal to a girl that wasn’t even his.

            But it was a blessing because she was so beautiful. So beautifully naïve. So easily manipulated. She tried to be heartless, tried to keep everyone at an arms length, but she was too trusting. Her heart was too big, she had too much love to give. She hurt him, but he knows she’d do everything she could to make it up to him.

            It was a blessing because he knew how to get into her head, make her doubt the things around her. Make her doubt everything but him. He was the only person who would never lie to her. He was open and honest with her, and he knows she knows that.

            It was a blessing because he knew exactly where she would go the second she doubted everything. He knew she’d run to Hyunjin and he’d run to her side and whisk her off to their favourite club. The same club Cheol introduced them to when they were together.

            It was a blessing because he knew she would be drunk before she even arrived. And drunk Y/n is clingy and affectionate. And he would be right there for her to cling onto. He would listen to her complain about whatever and whoever. He would wipe away her tears. And he would love her more than anyone else ever could.

            Right on time he saw Y/n stumble in with Hyunjin, a wide smile on her face as Hyunjin struggled to hold her up. Her eyes landed on him and her entire face lit up like a kid on Christmas. “Cheolie! You’re here!” She pulled herself out of Hyunjin’s grip and ran to him, wrapping herself around him. “I’m so happy to see you.”

            “Y/n, I should apologize for what I said. It was uncalled for.” She shook her head before he could continue the apology he practiced for an hour in the mirror.

            “Don’t apologize, Cheolie. You had every right to say what you did. I treated you horribly.” She pouted at him. And if Hyunjin wasn’t just feet away, he would have risked it all and kissed it away. He would kiss her a million times and tell her he loved her twice as much.

            “I don’t think Hyunjin feels the same way you do.” He chuckled, motioning towards her best friends glaring at him with a scowl on his face. It would be obvious to anyone that Hyunjin wasn’t fond of Seungcheol. He had his reasons, all stemming from the toxic sugar daddy/sugar baby relationship he had with Y/n.

            Hyunjin noticed all the things that Y/n didn’t. She was too naïve, too blind to notice all the red flags that should have sent her running in the opposite direction. She was too smitten with Cheol’s best friend to notice the possessive nature Cheol possessed.

            “Jinnie it’s okay. Cheol is a good guy, I promise.” Hyunjin wanted to argue that. He wanted to point out all the things that he used to do, but she seemed so happy wrapped around him. As if she wasn’t spiralling just minutes before. Her eyes were sparkling, her face glowing. The hurt Minho had given her completely washed away, and the reason was Cheol.

            “Let me buy you guys a drink, hmm? No ulterior motives. Just want to have a good night with some friends.” Cheol offered, and it was an offer Hyunjin couldn’t refuse. His scowl was quickly replaced with a smile as the three headed for the bar together.

~

            “Thanks for tonight hyung.” Hyunjin slurred slightly as held Y/n up outside Cheol’s car. She was smiling, giggling, and Hyunjin felt grateful that Seungcheol was there to bring her smile back when she felt like she was sinking. “She was a mess before we met up with you.”

            “I would do anything for her, Hyunjin. Even if all I’ll ever be is just a friend.” Hyunjin looked at the way Cheol looked at her, seeing all the love and care he held in his eyes. He saw the way she smiled at him, letting go of Hyunjin to wrap herself around Cheol once again.

            “I really have missed you, Cheolie.”

            “I missed you too, love. But you should go with Hyunjin and get some sleep, okay? I’ll text you tomorrow.” She pulled away from the hug slightly to meet his eyes.

            “Promise?”

            “Promise.” She smiled before pressing a quick kiss to his cheek and then stumbled back into Hyunjin’s arms. Seungmin was already opening the door before the two could make it up the stairs, Jeongin right behind him holding out his arms for Y/n. Hyunjin passed her to her sober roommates knowing they’d do better at getting her into bed than he would.

            “Hey hyung.” He called out for Cheol before he could get back in his car. “I don’t think you’ll ever be just a friend to her.” Cheol smiled, wished him a goodnight, and then drove away while Hyunjin stumbled into the house, deciding to crash on the couch instead of finding a way home.

            His words stuck with Seungcheol the entire way back home. Hyunjin was her best friend, he would know her better than anyone. So if he thinks Cheol still has a shot, then Cheol wouldn’t give up. Not when there’s still a game to play and a heart to be won.

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