#they out there left right and center declaring their love for each and calling each other soulmates

[pierregazly]

tolerate it ꨄ lewis hamilton

lewis hamilton x fem!reader

warnings: age gap (no specific age, just mentioned), angst, no hea

this is just me projecting my sadness with this song onto one of the drivers, lewis being the best option. there's a chance i may do a part 2 to this eventually, but im pretty content with how it ended for now. i hope you enjoy!

It wasn’t always like this.  

There was a time when you didn’t wake up, clenching your eyes closed in the hopes that it would magically change the outcome once they opened.  

There was a time when you would wake up, Lewis nuzzling his chin into the space where your neck and shoulders collided, peppering the skin with little kisses in the hopes it would wake you from your slumber. 

There was a time when you didn’t have to hold your breath, when your eyes didn’t have to adjust to the lack of light in the room, just to get a small glimpse of the man you loved curled up next to you.  

It was hard to pinpoint the exact moment when it had all changed. Maybe it was at the beginning of the season, maybe it was before that. You couldn’t really be too sure. 

Now, you were lucky to catch a glimpse of him in the morning, lucky to even get the chance to move your eyes across his ink-coloured skin beside you. You were lucky to even get a kiss goodbye in the morning before he left, the sun barely up when he was leaving to go to training, or the factory, or God knows where.  

The words between the both of you were minimal nowadays, it was more like living with a roommate you saw occasionally instead of a lover that you were supposed to be sharing a life with.  

There was a time when Lewis would giggle as he read the words of his books to you in whatever animated voice he could come up with. There was a time when the art he created was a joint effort between the two of you; now, it felt like all he did was tolerate you. 

It was evident neither you, nor Lewis, wanted to touch on the topic. Both of you tiptoed around each other, not wanting to open the door that would push the storm in.  

There isn’t much time spent at the paddock anymore, your career becoming the main focus of your priorities. You still welcomed Lewis home after every Grand Prix, his favourite dinner’s packaged in the fridge, the linens cleaned, and his clothes prepped.  

A battle hero’s welcome, one could call it. 

He always politely thanked you, a gentle kiss to your forehead before he made his way to the office for the remainder of the night. There was a time when he would debrief with you after every race, watching highlight videos on the television while he explained what he did wrong, what he did right, where he could improve and where he got a little too cocky. Now he just did it alone, the door of his office tightly closed, no sound emitting from the room. 

Sugarcoating it to your friends and family was difficult. They understood Lewis’ career took center stage, but they couldn’t understand why he was never around when they came to your shared apartment, why it felt like his presence wasn’t even prominent in the home at all. 

There was no way to explain it, without sounding naïve, without sounding like you were just letting a relationship that was drowning, pull you down with it. 

Everyone suggested different reasons. The season wasn’t going in the way Lewis had hoped. Maybe his age is finally getting to him. Maybe he’s considering retirement and it’s bothering him. Maybe the age difference between the two of you is too much now.  

Maybe he’s fallen out of love. 

You knew the last one was a significant possibility. Lewis was a private person, but he showed his heart on his shoulder, especially at the beginning. Large declarations of love, obnoxious presents, at first, he wanted you to know that he was in love with you, constantly. 

There isn’t a time in the last four months that you can remember where Lewis demonstrated his love for you, quick ‘love you’s’ before the door slammed behind him, a random heart in the middle of the night when he’s halfway across the world; even those had slowly stopped. 

Nowadays he would hum silently when you told him you loved him, he would send a heart back if you sent one to him. He didn’t initiate anything, it just simply felt like he was tolerating it when you expressed your love for him. 

It wasn’t hard to remember the times when Lewis would tell you how much he loved you, how he would show it.  

He would curl up behind you in bed, the unmade sheets wrapped lazily around the two of you as he groaned into your neck, his hands resting around your middle as he eagerly cuddled up to you. 

You could always feel him mumbling words into your neck, but he would never tell you what he was saying. Lewis would just smile and press a tiny kiss to your lips, the kiss heating up as time went on, your bodies moving in sync as he demonstrated his love for you in every way he knew how. 

You weren’t a self-conscious person, you knew you had plenty to offer when it came to your relationship, and when it came to life in itself. You knew your love should be celebrated, celebrated in the way that Lewis used to celebrate it, the way he used to giggle as he wrapped his arms around you from behind, gently swaying to the music coming from his phone as you cooked together. 

You tried to push the negative thoughts away, the thoughts of leaving, of packing up your bags and leaving in the middle of the weekend while he was away. You considered it, time and time again. The suitcases staring at you from the closet, telling you to open them, pack them, and leave. 

Every weekend the temptation grew stronger and stronger. The urge to walk away, to preserve your dignity, sat heavy on your shoulders.  

Every time when you thought you had decided, thought you had made the decision to pull the dagger out and walk away; an invisible force pulled you back. Told you that the season was slowly coming to its end, that the old Lewis would come back to you when the season was up, he was just stressed out and things were hard. 

He never talked about his problems with you. He would debrief with you, sure. He would tell you about the problems in the race, but he would never tell you about his internal problems.  

It’s how you constantly justified his behaviour, and his actions... or lack thereof.  

Your mind always went back to those thoughts when you considered leaving. It always made you think about the fact that he was probably struggling, that he just wasn’t able to talk to you about it and that you leaving would probably make things worse. 

It was the invisible but obvious force, that, you knew. 

Lewis didn’t know about these thoughts. At least he never showed that he knew. The bags were always tucked away in the back of the closet when he returned home, like they were never sitting in front of the open door. Everything was back in their rightful place, as if the thought of leaving had never crossed your mind.  

One of your favourite moments with him happened just before the beginning of the season. You were cuddled up on the couch, the remnants of a ‘Game of Thrones’ episode playing on the television, Lewis’ hand gently creating shapes on the visible skin of your back.  

“Do you ever feel like you’re too old, or like... too wise for me? Like someone closer to your age would be better?” 

You felt him huff against your neck, a small laugh falling from his lips before he pressed a kiss to the spot his lips were before shaking his head. 

“Are you calling me old, my love?” 

Immediately shaking your head with a tiny laugh, you slapped his chest with a gleam in your eyes. “You know what I meant, Lew...” 

Rolling you over, he leaned over you as he pushed a lock of his own unruly hair behind his ear. “I rarely think about the fact you’re younger than me. It doesn’t affect the way in which I love you, half the time I forget that you’re younger than me. I definitely don’t think I’m wiser, that’s for sure. It’s pretty obvious who has all the wisdom between the two of us.” 

The night ended with you below him, the sheets rustling, as if all the love he had for you could be encaptured in the way his eyes connected with yours. You had never felt that kind of raw love before, had never felt like everything you had done had led to that exact moment. 

Trying to convince yourself that everything happening now was all in your mind was easy. The comments that your friends made, that maybe he didn’t love you anymore; was easy enough to ignore when you considered the fact that he did still reply to your messages, that he still came home every Sunday, that he still sometimes pressed a kiss to your forehead before leaving in the morning.  

But then sometimes you let your mind reel, and reel, and reel. Lewis was there, but was he really there? 

The conversation almost happened, after Spa. Lewis was exhausted coming into your shared apartment, his bags dropping down at the front door. You were wrapped up in one of his Mercedes sweaters, his racing number engraved on the sleeves; even if he was there physically and not mentally, you had still made him your everything, you had made him your mural, had dedicated the sky to him. 

The pictures on the walls still showed a love between the two of you that wasn’t obvious anymore. The picture of you wrapped around him after the end of the 2020 season. The pictures of the both of you cuddled around each other at his family Christmas, the collage of his nephews wrapped in your arms. There were hundreds of photos that showed how life used to be. 

Your mind came back to the present when Lewis crossed the path in front of you. 

Like always, he went to press a gentle kiss to the crown of your head, the exhaustion prevalent on his face. As he was walking towards his office, you felt the words bubble out of your mouth before you could control them. 

“Did you want to watch this with me? I feel like we haven’t really spent much time together lately.” 

The words stopped him in his tracks, you could practically see the wheels turning in his head as his body turned in your direction. It felt like his face was mocking you with its fake sympathy as he gently shook his head, his curls moving with the direction. 

“I’m just too tired. I have to go watch highlights in my office. Maybe later.” 

It was always ‘maybe later’, or ‘maybe tomorrow’, or ‘I’m sorry we can’t celebrate our anniversary this year, I just don’t have time this weekend, maybe next weekend’.  

It felt like you were begging him for a spot in his life, like you were an inconvenience that he didn’t want to put the effort into anymore. By now, you weren’t even begging for a line in the story, but a line in the footnotes of his life. A minuscule part, something that he couldn’t even try to give you.  

Lewis made it clear he felt bad after he bailed on your anniversary. He spent hundreds of dollars on you, basically begging you for forgiveness and emphasizing things would be different soon, he promised. 

He was right, things were different. Not in a good way. Maybe that was the point when things really started going downhill. It was still hard to pinpoint it. 

Making yourself scarce when Lewis was home was easy. Your friends were always looking for you to go for lunch, or dinner, or out for drinks. Spending your time at work was always an easy escape, allowing the never-ending flow of work to occupy your thoughts as you went above and beyond. 

If Lewis noticed that you were avoiding him, avoiding your home; he didn’t say anything. He never said anything. 

Spending the weekends at home was therapeutic, your arms wrapped in another one of Lewis’ oversized sweaters. The smell of his cologne wafting up your noise as you pressed the sleeve to your face, the unshed tears refusing to leave your eyes. You wouldn’t cry, not again. 

You knew you would cry, again. You always let the tears fall when you scrolled back up in your conversation with Lewis to when things first started, when he was animated, when he overshared, when he sent you photos of George, of Mick, when he forwarded you along videos of Roscoe when Roscoe was away with him.  

Back when your love was celebrated, when it didn’t feel like Lewis was just tolerating it, tolerating you, tolerating your love. 

Jealousy reared its ugly head every weekend as well. Whenever you saw an Instagram story, or a twitter post, whenever you saw that Lewis was out with his friends, or his team, or his crew. You knew it wasn’t fair to be jealous, that it wasn’t fair to compare yourself to the people that Lewis spent 5/7 days a week with, that it was hard for him to say ‘no’ to them. 

It didn’t change how much it hurt, how much it made your heart ache to know that you truly were something that could be put on the backburner. He was always out building other worlds, but where were you?  

Where were you every time he was out with his friends after a race? Where were you every time he was celebrating a win, or celebrating a pole in qualifying? Where were you every time he went live on Instagram? 

Where was his love for you when you sat looking at the suitcases in the closet, again? 

Gone. 

It was time to accept the truth, that his love for you was gone. That he didn’t celebrate his love for you like he once did, that he didn’t celebrate you, like he once did.  

He tolerated it, and he tolerated you. Tolerating something and celebrating it were too obviously different things. It had never been more evident. 

The bags didn’t stare at you anymore as they laid open on the bedroom floor, your clothes finding themselves folded and inside each of them, your portion of the closet emptying out as the bags grew heavier and heavier. The bags under your eyes growing darker alongside them. 

You couldn’t leave without saying anything to him, couldn’t allow him to come home to an empty home. It was obvious he didn’t deserve an explanation, and you didn’t plan on giving him one. But he deserved a goodbye.  

It was clear the presence of the suitcases registered in Lewis’ mind the moment his eyes found them as the front door closed. He immediately looked at you, the most emotion you’d seen in months shining in his eyes. 

“What’s going on?” 

The shake in his hands was visible as he asked the question, his own bags falling gently beside your own as he stared at you.  

“I can’t do this anymore. I can’t beg for a place in your life anymore, Lew. I’m sorry.” 

The resignation was evident in his eyes, but there was no fight in them as he sat on the couch opposite you. It almost hurt to know that he wasn’t going to argue, wasn’t going to ask you to stay, to not break free and leave the both of you in ruins. It almost hurt, but you knew it would be the case.  

“I’m sorry.” 

He didn’t try to stop you as you went towards your bags, he didn’t look up from his ink-stained hands as the click of the lock sounded. He didn’t try to say anything more as the suitcases rolled out the door. 

You didn’t see the tears gather in his eyes and then fall down his cheeks as the door closed behind you, the longing on his face as he debated with himself internally if he should run after you. Beg you to stay. It was so plain to see now, you were younger, and wiser, and he didn’t deserve you anymore. 

Lewis knew the truth. You deserved someone who would celebrate you, celebrate your love. Not someone who could only tolerate it when their own life was falling apart. He didn’t deserve you, not anymore.  

i really hope you guys liked this!! im really not too sure if i'll make a part 2, but if there's a lot of demand for one i will. thank you for all the love. also i read this like 4 times so if there's any mistakes im sorry lol

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[heaven-is-in-your-arms-series]

The Romance of Inao

The story of Inao originally comes from the Javanese and Malay Panji stories, centered around Prince Panji and Princess Kirana.

The stories have spread throughout SouthEast Asia and they have their own versions of the tales with different names for the characters.

I am going to focus on the Thai dance drama version where Prince Panji is called Inao.

Brace yourselves, this one is long and complicated and a lot of information is not easily available in English so it's not as complete as I would like it to be but here goes.

Inao is the son of the king of Kurepan

Bussaba/Kirana is the daughter of the king of Daha

At birth they are betrothed to each other

When Inao is 15, his grandmother passes away in the kingdom of Manya.

The kings of Kurepan and Daha send him to represent them at the funeral.

In Manya, Inao meets and falls in love with princess Jintara.

After the elaborate funeral celebrations are over, he wishes to stay in Manya with Jintara.

But his father orders him home and Inao leaves, after sending a lovelorn letter to Jintara.

At home in Kurepan, his father decides to speed up that marriage! (Clearly sensing trouble.)

But Inao refuses to go along with this plan and goes off hunting.

Having left the palace, he takes on a disguise, along with a few loyal followers and after an encounter with a bandit, he acquires two captured princesses.

They all head to Manya where the king happily welcomes him and Inao makes Jintara his wife.

Jintra, clearly drunk on love, decides to magnanimously invite the two princesses to be Inao’s concubines (polygmy was standard in this time.)

Inao’s father orders him to return home and marry Bussaba but Inao send’s word that he is no longer willing to go along with those plans.

The king of Daha felt slighted and angry and Bussaba too, felt shamed by Inao’s actions, although at this point, they had never actually met each other. (Can you guess what is going to happen?)

Rather recklessly, the king of Daha decides to marry her off to the next person that asks and the king of Joraka, famously ugly, promptly proposes, much to the King of Daha (and Bussaba’s) dismay. Unable to back out of his rash declaration, he reluctantly accepts the proposal.

But, plot twist, the king of Kamang Kuning ALSO wanted to marry Bussaba, because unlike Inao, he knew what she looked like and he was prepared to fight to have her.

Daha Vs Kamang Kuning

Fight!

The King of Daha was obliged to ask Kurepan for help (which must have sucked) and Inao was ordered to go to Daha and help the king sort out this mess since it was all his fault for backing out of the betrothal.

Jintara does not want Inao to go, fearing the worst but Inao decides that this is one summons that he cannot ignore. Perhaps a twinge of guilt at work there too. He promises to return though. (do you think he will?)

(now in SOME versions, an alternative situation occurs where poor Jintara is tricked away and murdered and Inao goes mad with grief for a time before finally regaining his senses when his original intended comes to save him. In this version poor Jintara is usually a commoner and so, sadly, easily got rid of.)

Inao rides in to the rescue and kills the king of Kamang Kuning.

Entering the palace of Daha to celebrate, he finally comes face to face with Bussaba.

(I like to imagine a Bollywood slo-mo moment here, where a mysterious wind blows Bussaba’s hair back from her face, as their eyes meet and a song starts to play.)

He instantly falls in love and realises what a MISTAKE he’s made. (It’s really all your own fault Inao. Minimal sympathy right now.)

I particularly enjoy the accounts where he is standing by Siyatra (Bussaba’s brother) when he spots her and he is so overcome with passion that he repeatedly kisses her brother, mistaking him for her. (Ok, Inao, you tell yourself that.)

The King of Joraka was ALSO on the way to help Daha but he arrived too late to be of any assistance. (Ugly and useless!)

Inao was now desperate to prevent Joraka’s marriage to Bussaba and the king of Daha was sympathetic but he had already given his word. (Unlike some, he doesn’t renege on a promise.)

Beach holiday filler episode time!

Ok, not really but the king of Daha and his wives and followers decide they simply must climb the mountain Wilismara to make offerings and worship to the Buddha image there.

Madewi, the king's second wife, suggests that Bussaba go and ask the image about her fate. Using lighted candles to decipher the Buddha’s message.

She lit three candles, one for Joraka on the left, herself in the middle and Inao on the right.

Bussaba asks the sacred image to extinguish the candle of the person who is not her soulmate.

Inao had secretly followed her and overheard this conversation and he plays a trick, pretending his voice is that of the god’s and persuading Bussaba and Madewi that Inao is her true soulmate.

He sends his follower Prasanta to drive out the bats and extinguish the candles and the darkness he finds and embraces Bussaba.

Madwei is furious about this (Bussaba less so,) and she argues with Inao who has the audacity to claim that he never refused Bussaba. (I think your dad has a letter suggesting otherwise buddy.)

Inao reluctantly hands Bussaba back to Madewi but asks Bussaba for a piece of cloth from her clothes, to hold when he is missing her. (smooth.)

What comes next is a cycle of adventures where the lovers are separated and have to search for each other before they are eventually reunited in a happy ending but they are not all told in the Lakhon Nai dance drama.

In many versions, Bussaba has to temporarily take on the disguise of a man and she has an active role in trying to help rescue Inao.

In a Javanese version, a demon takes her place and pretends to be the princess, called Candra Kirana in this story and the real princess appears at the court, disguised as a man to win back her man.

[librathefangirl]

Meliodas & Zeldris; Actions and Words

Okay, so working on my new demon bros video today got me thinking a lot about Meliodas and Zeldris' regrets about each other and their relationship. Meliodas' regrets seem to be about his actions while Zeldris' seem to focus on his words. Actually, when you think about it, a lot of things regarding their relationship seem to be centered around actions for Meliodas and words for Zeldris.

Like, for starters, let's look at moments where the brothers expressed wishes regarding each other.

Meliodas talks about wanting to save Zeldris and Gelda; his little brother means a lot to him and he wants to, through his own actions make sure that Zeldris is safe. Zeldris on the other hand, he wanted to just talk with his brother; about simple everyday things, hunting and drinking and the women they loved.

Which leads us the topic of regrets. Throughout the last season we get Meliodas expressing his regrets about Zeldris.

What Meliodas expresses regrets about is not being there for Zeldris, not being able to help him and abandoning him; in other words, his actions. This is also, as seen in the flashback, what hurts Zeldris most, his brother leaving him; his action.

So, what about Zeldris? Well, we don't get him speaking openly about his regrets in the same way Meliodas does. On the other hand, we get more instances of what Zeldris does that hurts Meliodas the most.

The one time Zeldris really vocalizes his regrets it's about how he wished he had talked more with Meliodas, instead of letting their father scare him silent. Even back in their first scene together and all the way up to the Cursed by Light movie, we get Zeldris using his words against Meliodas to purposely hurt him.

I say purposely because I genuinely believe that is what Zeldris does, just look at these examples. The first time in 3,000 years that they meet, Zeldris meets Meliodas' casual approach with a callous reminder of the bad blood between them. In the flashback, when faced with Meliodas turning his back to the demons, Zeldris lashes out with his words, declaring that he no longer consider Meliodas his brother. When they meet in the movie, their relationship is at a better point than it has been since Meliodas' betrayal, yet, when Meliodas references their brotherly bond and tries to relate to him, Zeldris once again says he doesn't see him as a brother. This visibly hurts Meliodas because that is what Zeldris meant to do, to keep a distance to Meliodas and the hurt Zeldris himself felt when Meliodas left. Even if Zeldris wished he had talked to Meliodas more before, now when he has the chance, he's still scared to let him back in, so he lashes out with his words - because he knows that it works.

Then, at the end of it all, what do Meliodas and Zeldris do to actually reach out, to show their love and mend that bond?

Meliodas still relies on his actions. He goes to fight the Demon King to save Zeldris; he would even have done it alone if it hadn't been for Elizabeth insisting on coming with and the curse being active. Then in Cursed by Light, when Zeldris tells him he has no right to fight for the demons, Meliodas decides to do it just for Zeldris; facing off against an unknown foe because he wants to help his brother.

And Zeldris? He uses his words. He tells Meliodas to come to the Demon Realm again. Then, before leaving, he calls him brother, just like he used to, just like he has made a point of not doing time and time again. Because Meliodas is his brother and he loves him.

tl;dr Meliodas and Zeldris expresses their regrets and love for each other differently, Meliodas does this through his actions while Zeldris relies on his words.

Thanks for coming to my TED Talk accidental after midnight essay!

[i-am-bitterly-jittery]

Pray To Me A Little Longer (pt 2.1/3)

yeah, I'm splitting chapter 2 into two parts, the whole point of posting on tumblr (for me) is to be able to post things before they're ready for AO3, besides, it makes perfect sense as its own chapter

Part 1 • Part 2.2 Part 3 Devotion

Word count: 1788

Rating: Teen

Pairings: Moceit, future qpr Intrulogince (Remus/Logan, Logan/Roman)

Warnings: murder (comical), mythology-esc hijinks, animal death (by other animals, sentient animals? sentient animals killing non-sentient animals for food)

~~~START~~~

Long ago, near the dawn of humanity, Thomas, King of all Gods, had a Son: Patton, Prince of Gods, Flame of the Earth. He grew tall and fair, and when He had grown old enough to come into His own, Thomas had a second Son. 

Romulus was a rascal of a God, full of wild energy and teasing jests. Many a God privately expressed Their regret that Thomas had had a second Son, though never would They say a word against Him in the presence of His Father. Still though, Thomas knew His second Son was a handful, and when He had a third, He sent Him to be raised in Logos, where His most trusted priestesses and nymphs would keep Him out of trouble. 

One day, Patton came to His Father with a snake draped around His neck. The serpent spoke mostly riddles and lies, but still, the God of Truth professed His love for the creature and begged His Father to grant him the divinity His own Children had been blessed with. Thomas agreed, saying that if the snake would stay with Patton until the solstice in one month’s time, then the two should be wed, and the snake would be blessed to remain at Patton’s side forever more. The serpent happily acquiesced. 

The serpent’s loyalty in that month was surely tested as Romulus teased the poor creature cruelly, calling him ugly and attempting to pry scales from his tail. Patton had always tried to show His Brother patience and kindness, but this disrespect of His lover was something He could not stand for. He cursed at His Brother, and bid Him not come to the wedding at all unless it was to beg on His knees for the serpent’s forgiveness. Romulus was not cowed and declared that the snake would just as likely leave His Brother after receiving divinity as not before storming off in a huff. 

Thomas made His second Son apologize at the wedding, but nothing could stop the God of Ego from laughing when it was revealed that His Brother’s Husband’s name was Janus. 

Janus continued to accept every jab, every aggression, every abuse from Romulus with a sly smile on His face. At every turn He held His Husband back from losing His temper at His Brother. Then, during the Festival of the Eclipse, as the moon passed in front of the sun, plunging the world into darkness, the God of Secrets pulled out an axe and cleaved His Brother-in-law in twain. 

From the right half of Romulus’s body grew Roman, God of Romance, Music, Theater, and Literature, and from the left half grew Remus, God of Sex, Sculpture, Painting, and Weaving. The sun and the moon, separated once more. 

The other Gods, while now more mistrustful of Janus — though none would say so, lest they face the unrestrained wrath of either Janus or His Husband — were pleased with this change. 

After that, almost all of Romulus’s temples were added on to so that Roman and Remus each had their own shrine and new temples were built, leaving out Romulus’s shrine altogether, though they did still have a common shrine where priestesses and disciples alike could pray to both Gods at once. 

Despite the fact that it had stood abandoned for years, the Lykos temple — which lay in the middle of the woods of the same name — was Roman’s favorite temple. It had been the spiritual center of Romulus’s cult during His time, and even now, it was still the home of Romulus’s sacred wolf pack. 

Running with the wolf pack was one of Roman’s favorite things to do. He loved the dirt beneath His paws, the wind running through His white fur, and the feeling of taking down prey with His sharp teeth. 

But most of all, He loved getting to take a break from being a God; wolves didn’t care about Gods, wolves cared about their pack, and their hunt. And of course, when Roman decided to take time to run with the pack, for a night at least, Remus came too — it was just as much His pack as it was Roman’s. 

So Roman and Remus ran with the wolf pack through Lykos. 

Roman prowled forward slowly, carefully, the deer He was stalking had no idea of its danger. It was a large stag, with mighty antlers and its fair share of battle scars; a kill like that would feed the pack well — Roman and Remus did not need to eat such mortal fodder, but there was something incredibly satisfying about it. 

Roman was almost close enough to pounce when Remus came thundering up behind Him. The stag, having obviously heard the ruckus, took off running. 

“REMUS!” Roman barked unhappily, but Remus just laughed as he continued after the stag. 

Roman shook His head. Wolves were not pursuit predators, but of course, Remus could hunt however He liked. 

A howl went up in the opposite direction than Remus had gone, signifying that another member of the pack had made a kill and was inviting the rest of the pack to indulge with them. Roman continued the howl, but did not move to join them — he preferred meat slayed by his own teeth and claws. 

A few minutes later, He heard Remus howl His victory over the stag. He heard a few other wolves moving in Remus’s direction to share His kill with Him, but still, Roman continued to search for His own prey. Preferably, He’d find something before Remus decided to ‘help’ Him again. 

A rabbit ran across His path, but it was small, and Roman was not interested in so weak a challenge. He crept on until he found a doe drinking from a stream. She was not as big as the stag, but she would do. 

Roman stalked closer, keeping a careful ear out for signs of Remus’s less-than-graceful approach. Just as Roman was about to pounce, the doe seemed to catch wind of Him, she tried to take off running just as the stag had, but it was too late, and Roman quickly took her down. She struggled a little, but as Roman tore at her throat, her struggles lessened until finally, she was still. 

Roman howled out His own kill, and relished the answering howls that came back. A mother wolf appeared then with her two cubs, and Roman graciously allowed them first pick. 

As the mother and cubs ate, Roman noticed for the first time that there seemed to be quite a few birds in the trees. Birds were normal, as far as Roman could tell, there were birds everywhere, but He had never noticed so many diurnal birds out at night before. 

Scavengers, perhaps, except that even when the mother and cubs moved away from the felled doe to allow Roman His fill, the birds made no move to approach the carcass. 

Roman tore chunks of savory meat from the doe, and as no other wolves had appeared to share in His kill, He ate until a sharp feeling, almost like that of an axe, struck Him — it was not a physical blow, but it still managed to knock some of the wind out of him. 

The birds seemed to sense the change too, as they suddenly all at once took to the skies, cawing and clamoring as they went. Roman was too stunned to pay them much mind — someone had entered His temple. 

Another God had the audacity to enter one of Roman and Remus’s temples uninvited. 

“The nerve of some people,” Remus sniffed, jogging through the woods until He was at Roman’s side. “Don’t Gods have any manners?”

Roman rolled his eyes at the question. Remus had a habit of entering other Gods’ temples to annoy Them — He was lucky that Janus seemed to like Him, otherwise Patton might have smote Him long ago. His favorite target was the God of Wisdom, but so far, said God had yet to rise to the challenge, though if He thought ignoring Remus would work, perhaps He was not as wise as He ought to be. 

It was hard to pinpoint which temple the intruder was in since, as far as Roman knew, They were in Romulus’s shrine. If this God had gone into one of Roman’s shrines, or one of Their common shrines, then He would be able to find Them, but as it stood, all He knew was that there was a God in one of Their temples somewhere. Not the most helpful lead. 

“Well?” Remus asked, having had waited for Roman to collect His thoughts while He scratched His own mangy fur against a tree. He did not care as much about intruders. 

“They’re somewhere,” Roman concluded, unhelpfully. 

“Great! Well I vote that we don’t worry about it. Maybe it’s Janny, vandalizing one of Romulus’s statues for fun!” Remus shrugged His shoulders as well as a wolf could do. 

“Maybe,” Roman agreed tentatively. Janus’s feud with Romulus seemed to have ended with His forced mitosis, but perhaps the God of Lies had felt the need to blow off some steam. 

Roman tried to shake off the odd feeling of having a God in Their temple and continue the hunt with the rest of the pack, but that feeling was always there, in the back of his mind. When at last the pack had eaten their share and stretched their legs, the two Gods accompanied them back to the temple where they denned. 

They had been intending to leave after that, but intriguingly, They found a God, asleep, beneath Romulus’s citrus tree. 

Roman had never seen this God before, and he knew most of the rest of His fellow Gods very well. That wasn’t to say that there weren’t Gods that Roman didn’t know, just that it was uncommon. 

Remus sniffed the other God curiously. “Why’s he dressed like a human?” He asked, wrinkling His nose, which came across as more of a snarl on His wolf muzzle. 

“That’s what you’re focused on?” Roman yipped. “Why is He in Our temple? And why is He sleeping here?”

“Probably explains the birds at least,” Remus shrugged once more, before seemingly making up His mind and curling up on the intruding God’s left. 

Birds? Roman wondered before suddenly remembering the crows. The birds had come with the God, though why, Roman didn’t know — it wasn’t like peacocks followed Him around. 

“Why are you sleeping with Him anyway?” Roman demanded. 

“Warm.” Was Remus’s only answer. 

Roman sniffed suspiciously at the other God for another moment before He was forced to admit, Remus looked comfortable and He was jealous. He curled up on the God’s other side, and He had to admit, it was comfortable. 

~~~END~~~

I’m sick and I would like some serotonin pls 🥺

Docs did not like how I was spelling “axe” to the point where I needed to google axe to make sure I was right. I don’t know what it wanted from me smh

General taglist:

@royalty-of-all-things-snuggly @pixelated-pineapple @arsonic-knight @misunderstood-shadowling

[technicallycleverdetective]

For the kissy thing: Jance & 23? ☺️

Thank you very much for the prompt, my friend :) I hope you enjoy.

23…in relief.

Jan’s name appears on his phone and he sighs, more relieved than anything. Jan is always late to everything. It’s a well-known fact and not something to resent him over. Everyone else’s timekeeping just changes a little to accommodate him. Nevertheless, twenty minutes is a reasonable amount of time to wait. Forty-five minutes is starting to stretch the limits of patience and Nace was starting to get concerned.

“It’s Jan,” he announces to the room.

“Finally! Tell him he better have a good excuse this time,” Kris orders. Nace picks up the call.

“Hello,” he says cheerfully.

“Hi.”

He can tell at once that something isn’t right. “Are you okay, love?”

“Sorry I’m late.”

“Don’t worry about it, it’s fine.” Kris gives him a look to indicate his disagreement. “Are you on the way?”

“Don’t be worried,” Jan says, which instantly worries him. “But I’m in the hospital.”

“What? What’s happened? Are you okay?”

“I got hit by a car. It was only a bump,” Jan adds quickly. “They made me come and get checked though.”

“Of course they did. What hospital are you in? We’re on the way.”

“He’s in a hospital?” Bojan yelps.

“University Medical Center. And seriously, Nace, don’t worry. I’m fine.”

There’s no point in saying that of course he’s going to worry. “Alright, I’ll try not to.”

As soon as he hangs up, he’s swamped with questions. “He was hit by a car, he’s in the hospital, I don’t know if he’s hurt or not, but he’s awake and talking at least. Let’s go.”

Jan is clearly not in a critical condition and there’s no reason to be unduly fearful, but nevertheless Jure takes over driving duties, and the front desk staff look very alarmed at the sight of four men barging through their doors and trying to talk over each other in search of their missing friend. They are directed to the end of a long corridor, around a corner and a little further to find the room with four beds where Jan is sitting, apparently unharmed except for the sling on his left arm.

Nace reaches him first and hugs him carefully, mindful of the sling, and is swiftly followed by the other four.

“Are you okay?”

Jan shakes his head. “I broke my arm.”

“Shit,” Kris stares at the sling. “Anything else?”

“What else is worse? I can’t fucking do anything for six weeks? What am I meant to do?”

Kris and Bojan have a silent conversation.

“We’ll rally around,” Kris declares. “We can make a rota to make sure one of us is always staying over to help out, if you want us to. We’ve handled illness and injury before.”

“Not like this! I can’t hold a guitar.”

“We’ll find a session musician,” Bojan says calmly. This doesn’t please Jan, who lets out a disgusted groan and buries his face in Nace’s shoulder.

“Does it hurt?” he asks.

“No,” Jan’s muffled voice replies. “That’s the thing, it doesn’t hurt at all, but the X-ray said there’s a fracture.”

“Mr Jan Peteh?”

They all look towards the door as a nurse walks in, stops short at the sight of them and then looks around. “I’m sorry, I must have the wrong room.”

She doubles back, looks at a chart outside the door and then comes back in. “Are you Mr Jan Peteh?”

“Yes.”

Her confusion does not vanish. “Were you brought in because you fell down the stairs?”

“I was hit by a car.”

“Hold on.” She walks out again. The guys look at each other and Kris tentatively takes a step back.

“Maybe I’ll go see what that’s about.”

He returns a minute later, just ahead of the nurse. “Hello again, I’m terribly sorry. I think your X-ray has been mixed up with someone else’s. You’re the Jan Peteh who was struck by a vehicle, correct?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Yes, your X-ray came back totally fine. You should have been discharged an hour ago.”

“Really? What about the other guy?”

“We need to call him back immediately. I’ll go and find someone to cut that bandage off you and then you can go home.”

She marches out briskly.

“What kind of incompetence-?” Kris begins, but the rest of his sentence is cut off by Jan gripping Nace by the collar and pulling him in for an enthusiastic hug.

“I haven’t broken my arm,” he says excitedly.

“No, you haven’t.”

“I can still play!”

Nace smiles and wraps his arms around him, kissing his temple and lingering for a bit longer over the warm skin, just as a reminder that Jan is here and safe.

[iznsfw]

I must confess to you, fellow WIZ*One l, that I was one of those who wished to see the group disbanded. It isn't because I didn't love them anymore. Rather, it really hurt me to see their well-earned efforts being invalidated by those haters. I believe they only want to make us happy and yet, I for one cannot even do ONE DAMN THING to shield them from trouble since I cannot even approach them.

It really hurt me to see them part ways but still, I'm happy now that they're being recognized in their respective careers.

I wish that someday, when everything's okay, they can do a comeback. WIZ*One out.

I understand your point of view.

People love to invalidate IZ*ONE, especially on social media. I don't bother much with haters because come on, it's useless, but because I love the girls, I felt angry whenever people said their success was just because of a survival show. And when people said that the members were untalented and were only popular because of their visuals, which is insanely untrue.

While IZ*ONE are all beautiful, they each have their own talents that contribute to the authenticity of the group:

Yena, Yujin, Chaeyeon, and Eunbi are the aces of the group, and;

there's Ssamyul with their insane vocals.

Wonyoung's iconic lines and power as a center alongside Minju and Sakura are what draw people into the group.

Hitomi and Nako are the most stable vocal-wise and brought their knowledge of dancing to their Japanese groups after dizbandment.

Hyewon brings a lot to the group with her strong variety show personality and soft vocals that carry IZ*ONE's harmonies.

IZ*ONE went through a lot, too. Due to the pandemic, WIZ*ONEs weren't able to physically be there for them. Hyekkura always got hated on because they had zero lines and because they're falsely untalented. I was glad that they got to show off their voices (Hyem's solo, and Sakura's rap in Ssera.) People were hating on the "rigged" members even though the court declared that the girls were victims in the situation, too. Some creeps were sexualizing Yujin and Wonyoung even when they were minors. The best we could do was be their fans and report the pedos, and we did what we could, so don't feel bad.

I think they were held back in IZ*ONE, although they were excellent as twelve, so seeing them shine on their own makes me both proud and nostalgic. They're being recognized more and more. Eunbi's being called the best post-IZ soloist with her amazing discography. Yena and Yuri got their first win and are venturing into comebacks. Chaeyeon's song KNOCK is charting well. Minju and Hyewon getting modeling and acting deals left and right. Nako's on the path to becoming an actress, too, and Hitomi's shining as AKB's center. Annyeongz and Ssamkkura are now more popular than ever in their new groups and get to be the unnies like they wanted. I'm beyond proud of them and will support them forever.

I can only wish for a reunion, but I'll also support them if they wish to continue on their own paths because I love the girls.

So, I understand what you're saying and can agree with some. Let's all support the girls forever.

iz, out.

P.S. Sorry for the long post. I just love the girls so much.

[alyosiuscreightonward]

Dear Diary. It’s been a few days now since I last spoke. Had to spend time with the family and do that whole St Patty’s Day thing. Yeah, I had some Guinness. So rich. So good, but I didn’t finish it. I felt my addiction issues were knocking on my door and so I just stopped and left the remainder on the table.

Lots of talking about life and all the advice that was given by them did me no good because they weren’t actually going to step up. Yeah, I’d like to move but who’s going to make that happen…? Y’all chipping in…? You know what else? A good therapist can cost how much for a fifty minute session? Yeah.

I did have a moment or two but I just started to breathe and it took a lot to calm down and center myself. Sigh. I spoke to a good friend and she said, “Better living through pharmacology.” True. When she said that, I remember that Nembutal and Carbatrol and a few others…🫣…that was the kind of pharmacology I liked. Quaaludes… The good old daze. Yeppers.

Meanwhile I knew that the universe was talking to me. I absolutely knew that something was wrong. I couldn’t put my finger on it. I was talking to another friend and on February 16th, she said that hospice care was being set up for another old friend who we used to run the streets with and that’s all I’m saying about that. Anyway, during this time, I did it again, I reached out to my friends and got little or nothing back from them. Damn it. “What got me all riled up?!” I thought, Jesus H Fucking Christ!!! You said that at any time I needed you, you’d be there and you weren’t. Just stop. Don’t.

I’m not that stupid. Life gets in the way. Look Motherfucker, I’ve been (warning you since…) actually waiting for you since…and I know that you’ve got shit going on and I just stay over here. I just started my meds and I have to go with the flow and see exactly how they are working out. I am quite well aware of how much we love each other and how hard we work on being friends and that’s really hard work. The cliché is right there, it’s either “…I sold my soul to the company store…” or “…that’s the sound of the men working on the…” and I also know quite well that “…we’ve been close but people grow and they sometimes grow apart…” and also we do reconnect and it’s a beautiful thing that we need to cherish. I have a great meme that talks about how checking in on someone is a glorious moment. I say hold it tight and enjoy the moment. Have it so close that you can close your eyes and replay that exact scene over in your mind for years to come.

The message I received was that on Thursday, March 16th was the funeral and it was really very messy. Oh, honey child. I do declare. Hot shitty boo boo mess. Let’s start with Exxon Valdez and now East Palestine. Yeah pretty much. When I heard that I knew all about “…how many good friends I’ve already lost, how many dark roads I’ve been down and how that can make a person blind…” I personally don’t want to be that person. I know that I’m needy and I want to say, PAY ATTENTION TO ME!!! Listen to me you Swinging Richard, anger and resentment will suck you dry. A soul crusher.

Also I know very well that I can be like a vacuum and I can literally suck the joy out of you. Also I can be a great friend who can help by distracting you from things for just a second and you like it. I do make every attempt to be a good friend. Call me day or night and if I’m there, I’ll get in my car and do my best to come to your emotional rescue. However I will always reach out to you first and ask you if you’re available to talk and allow me to vent and not cry about, in retrospect, absolutely nothing. I rarely just call you out of the blue.

Though when I heard about the funeral, the first thing that came to mind was that I’ve made plans to get together with some friends from high school. It took some planning to make it happen but it’s on. I also know that I can and I will continue to teach you how to be vicious, caustic and acidic. You think that your pussy has teeth? Bitch please. After I’m done, you’re already chewing on your ankle in the bear trap trying to get away from me. My tongue is so sharp it can and will clip the hedges. No need for a weed whacker, just let me at it. Well within that grey area, I can easily love you like nobody else. If for one second you think your family or friends are going to love you like I love you, then you’re sadly mistaken. Trust. I’m like that Trollope, Goldilocks, I can give some, I can give you the best of my heart or I can give you a tear in the time continuum where you never existed.

Then again you may not ever know how much I beat myself up for being a douche canoe. I have destroyed a few people and their lives. One guy was supposed to love me but he was a whore and he fucked and got sucked by men and women. If it had an orifice, he’d probably put in there. I promptly went on a rampage and the guilt I felt afterwards, I ended up on a 72 hour watch in a hospital. Then there was another guy who I had loved but I knew he was not for me and I thought we had that understanding. I had helped him out by telling 5-0 that I felt that there assistance would not be prudent at that moment because he could be charged with something like solicitation and I was not going to allow that to happen. Anyway, we spent some time together and I told him that I loved him and he apparently took it the wrong way. I turned on him. Absolutely no remorse. Again, the guilt I felt. I went down and almost died. I sincerely tortured myself. Sigh. In the past few years, I learned he was alive and doing well. The mutual friend said that he had no use for me and could not care any less than he already did not care if I was dead or alive. Plus I’ve fucked up shit and then it hit me: NEXT??!! NEXT??!!

Now that the tables are empty as are the chairs, we must take a moment and be there. Fuck me. Empty chairs. Empty tables. Don’t. Just learn the difference between friends for the road and friends for the heart. Dude. At the same time, you should also consider that there are so many people who fall into the category of being a friend for a reason, a season or a lifetime and I then think about the first woman who I loved. I still love her but I learned a very hard lesson and I’m better for it. I randomly text my first boyfriend because I can. We’re good now.

I really don’t care about your excuses. If you’re going to be a good friend then do it.

[lostthebucky]

Excuse me I've been following this blog for probably years for mcu content and now you're saying you've got a cql/shl side blog??? Please tell me what it is, I've been obsessed with both these shows for months :D

I do!!!! Sorry for the slow reply, I was finishing shl and I am in Mourning (the easter egg ending is Not Enough).

My cql/shl sideblog is @flaxbutterfly

I reblogged one cql post and realised it would not be enough and I needed a blog just for that because my god I love them so much. As much as I enjoy marvel, they haven’t done much that has interested me recently so I’m mostly on this blog to make memes when I have time lol. 

Me watching cql/shl tho

The characters?  👌 👌 👌 👌 👌 👌 The worlds and stories??  👌 👌 👌 (even if I had no idea what was going on for half of shl lmao). Please feel free to come talk to me at any time about them!! I have many feelings

[takingstockofwhatmattersmost]

This has been a LONG time coming...but here is another collab with Madi (torrentialmonsoon)!! I'm beyond excited to write her my bestie again...shoot, just excited to write anything again! I love her, I love writing with her and being able to get back here to share is feeling good! We hope you all like too! You get to guess who wrote what...it's a thing we do.

she declared her arrival with thunderous songs, blowing ballads left, right, and center.

every note pre-planned, every chorus practiced, each raindrop hitting my arid skin and parched lips.

she never calls before arriving, she always comes unannounced,

my torrential june monsoon.

i'll let her take me with her. i'll let her take me home.

he was soaked to the bone she was soaked as well his arrival... ...her coming

with an audacious entrance lightning and thunder billowing clouds oversaturated universal colors...purples, blacks, and blues

the melody of pitter-patter, echoes, and swaying trees to the rhythm he and she ~ dancing they ~ remembering moments

in these torrential june monsoons

out of practice yet still they know how to ...consume

[angelasscribbles]

Bad Romance Chapter 2: Complicated and Complex

Series: Bad Romance

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairings: Multiple

Rating: NSFW 🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋

Warnings: Smutty, Lemony, Awful, Toxic Relationships with lots of cheating. This is a hot mess express; no one is happy, everyone is in love with the wrong person, every relationship depicted herein is generally and massively fucked up. You’ve been warned.

My other stuff: Master List.

Riley lay in bed, naked, covers on the floor. She was venting out loud about Liam, but apparently, her companion was ready for round two.

“He’s not going to let me out the marriage contract, fucking bastard!” She railed while his lips trailed down her naked body. “He says he loves me, but I don’t even believe him.”

He lifted his head to tell her, “I love you, Riley.”

She sank a hand into his soft, russet brown hair as his mouth resumed its trek downward. She continued her tirade without acknowledging his declaration. “He just wants to control me. He only cares about what he wants, not what I want!”

“I care what you want. I’d do anything for you.”

“Yeah? Then do that thing I like.” She told him.

He smiled at her, happy there was something he could do to please her. Of course he knew exactly what she meant. He paid attention to everything about her, he was attuned to her every mood. He pushed her legs apart.

Her phone rang, she grabbed it off the nightstand, “Fuck, it’s Liam.”

“Don’t answer it.” He begged her.

“He’ll just keep calling. Be quiet, he can’t know you’re here.” She told him then hit the talk button, “What?” She stifled a gasp of pleasure as she felt his mouth make contact with her center. She squirmed a little.

“Where are you?” Liam demanded. Though he tried for a stern tone, she caught the undercurrent of anxiety.

“Why does that concern you?” She asked in satisfied tone. She liked having the upper hand. Her free hand was still tangled in her lover’s hair, and she bucked her hips ever so slightly up into him as she gripped her phone in the other.

“Because you are the future queen of Cordonia, you can’t just disappear! You’re not at home in Valtoria and you’re certainly not here at the palace. Imagine my surprise when I came back to our room last night and-“

“I told you last night that I don’t want to marry you!” She yelled as his tongue picked up the pace and her hand tightened in his hair.

“Riley. I just need to know where you are. That you’re ok. That you’re coming back. Please tell me that you haven’t left the damn country at least.” He was pleading now. That was better.

She was quite for a moment, not just to make him stew, but because she was having trouble keeping her voice even.

“Riley. Please. I’m sorry.” The beseeching note in Liam’s voice only served to ramp up her desire as her lover’s tongue lapped at her, pushing her closer to the edge.

“What are you sorry for Liam? Tell me. In detail.” She breathed as her body arched up into the other man’s mouth. She hit the mute button and tossed the phone onto the bed next to her so she could sink both hands into his hair as the orgasm pulsed through her body. “Oh fuuuckkk yes!”

He placed a hand on each of her thighs as he continued to lick her until she shoved his head away. She forced her breathing to return to normal as she picked the phone back up.

“….so please just tell me where you are. I know you’re not with Drake.”

She unmuted and said, “Fine. I’m at Ramsford.”

“Ramsford!? Why- You’re fucking Max again, aren’t you?”

“Of course not!” She said, voice full of indignation, “I just needed some stuff I left here and to get away and clear my head for a night or two. Max isn’t even home right now for your information.”

Max’s blue eyes peered at her as he tried to snuggle next to her and she pushed him away again, holding up a finger to tell him to wait.

“Fine, I believe you.” Liam’s voice was strained, he most certainly did not believe her. “When are you coming back?”

“Tomorrow. Probably. How do you know I’m not with Drake?”

“Because when I went to check, Kiara was in his room.”

“You’re lying!” She sat straight up in the bed, fury spiking through her.

“Why would I lie about that?” He asked her smugly.

“You know exactly why.”

“Maybe it’s time for you to accept the fact that he doesn’t fucking love you. I love you! Drake doesn’t love women, he uses them, it’s what he’s always done. It’s just how he is. He’ll never appreciate you the way I do. Just come home and I’ll prove it to you.”

He was wrong, she knew he was wrong. Drake did love her! He told her so! Liam was lying. Wasn’t he? Maybe she should get back home, remind him that he was hers! Fucking Kiara.

“Fine. I’ll be home soon.” She hit the end button and sat there fuming, staring at the phone screen debating calling Drake. God damn Liam, he had filled her up with pain and anger and he wasn’t there to take care of it the way he usually did. Now what?

“Is everything ok, Ri?” A soft voice asked.

She almost jumped at the sound; she had forgotten he was there. Her eyes snapped over to his then raked down his still naked body. A seductive smile spread across her face. “It will be. Come over here, Max, I need you inside me right now.”

He moved quickly and happily into her embrace and gently slid himself into her. Her fingers dug into his back as her eyes fluttered shut and she turned her head to the side, imagining it was Drake moving on top of her.

Meanwhile, downstairs…..

“She…she just shows up whenever the fuck she feels like it! Every time she makes a colossal mess out of her own life she just blows in here like a fucking hurricane and destroys my brother’s! Then she blows on out, usually with no warning at all, leaving me to pick up the pieces!” Bertrand was pacing back and forth across the sitting room furiously. “Why…why does he keep letting her do this to him?”

Savannah arched an eyebrow at him, “Tell me how you really feel Bert.”

“I….I just hate it! He’s so clearly head over heels in love with her and half the time, she doesn’t seem to notice he even exists! The other half…well, that might be worse. She gives him just enough to keep him hanging on.” He threw his hands up in exasperation.

“I know.” Savannah sighed, “I hate her, I really hate her!”

There was such venom in her voice that Bertrand stopped pacing to turn and stare at her. Then understanding dawned on him, “Oh, Sav, of course you do. She does the same thing to your brother. You must hate how she toys with Drake as much as I hate what she does to Max.”

Savannah looked up at her husband in surprise, “Oh….uh…yeah…yes, my brother, I hate how she treats Drake, exactly.” She hated how Max looked at Riley with love and adoration in his eyes because she wanted him to look at her that way.

She had been in love with Max since she was eight years old. One night, two years ago, she finally got up the courage to do something about it. At the season ending Beaumont bash, she got shit faced drunk and snuck into what she thought was Max’s room. Between the alcohol and the pitch darkness, she didn’t realize her mistake until the next morning.

She would have buried the memory and moved on with her life, but a month later she discovered she was pregnant. So here she was married to fucking Bertrand. And Max had still never once looked in her direction.

Back Upstairs……

The sex was mind blowing, it always was. Mostly because she had taught him exactly how she liked to be touched. The first time she had fucked him, on the plane on the way to Cordonia, it has been apparent that he didn’t know what the hell he was doing. So she had taken upon herself to fix that.

She had spent a good part of the social season teaching him all kinds of things. Everyone thought he always went to her room to wake her up at the butt crack of dawn, when the truth was, he had spent the night in there more often than not. He was now an expert on her body and how to evoke pleasure from her specifically. And he asked for very little in return.

“Don’t go. Stay.” He reached for her as she rolled out of bed.

“Sorry, Max, can’t. I have something I need to take care of.” She wanted to beat the shit of Kiara, and Drake. How fucking could he? He was supposed to be hers! She headed for the shower to wash the smell of sex off herself.

An hour later Max stood in the doorway and watched her pull out of the driveway. When the taillights were out of sight, he sighed and walked back inside trying to avoid Bertrand and Savannah.

He knew they disapproved but they just didn’t understand. He knew she was going to marry Liam, but she didn’t want to. The thing with Drake…well, she was a complicated and complex woman. He was the only one that understood her. She’d see that someday.

[mysterioushogwartsrequests]

Hello! Can I request an imagine with Draco and a Slytherin! Reader where they both are totally in love with each other and maybe one day in class Draco is being particularly needy/frustrated one day and she’s his partner and sees he’s super hard and she teases him but when class is over he asks the reader to give him a blowjob because he loves her mouth and he’s just so whiny and he later spoils the hell out of his girl at Hogsmeade!

This is literally SOOOO LONG!! I don’t know why I wrote so much, but I just really wanted to include all that stuff, lol. My excuse for the length is that I hit a 1,000 followers about two days ago so this is the celebratory piece! 

This goes without saying, but this piece contains a lot of sexual content so please do not read if you are underage or uncomfortable with said topics. I also wrote this in a different perspective because I wanted to try it out so I hope you enjoy!

Warning: SMUT, Oral (Male Receiving)

Title: Princess

                                                 ϟ ϟ ϟ

It was a warm summer’s day, close to the start of the new term. These past few weeks at Malfoy Manor had been tense and Draco often found himself rather stressed . A large part of him felt guilty for leaving his mother at home in the presence of Lord Voldemort, but another part of him felt grateful to be out of his sight. Finally, he could escape the Dark Lord’s watchful eyes, but he could not escape the plan set for him to complete.

Draco’s eyebrows knitted together as he squinted towards the merchandise wall inside Twilfitt and Tattings. Even when he was not around, Draco could still sense the Dark Lord’s influence and the constant reminder of the outcome if he were to fail. However, as he thought of better ways to mend the vanishing cabinet, something caught his attention.  

“Draco darling,” You called to him, stepping out of the changing room with a small smile on your face. Draco’s eyes widened in an instant, a lump forming in his throat as he examined the champagne dress clinging to your body. It was a delicate number with thin, spaghetti strap sleeves attached to the cowl-neck gown, the silk fabric shimmering softly as you stepped onto the podium.  

With a content hum, Draco pushed himself off the wall, his grey eyes locked with yours in the shop mirror as he walked towards you. He rested his hand against your waist, his fingers tenderly sliding down to feel the smooth silk against them, “You look ravishing,” he whispered against your ear, pressing a kiss against the shell of it before stepping back to get a better view of you.  

You smiled satisfyingly, taking a moment to admire the all-black ensemble he wore and how it slimmed him down in all the right places. He stood in a black turtleneck and a fitted suit jacket, his left hand in the pocket of his slacks while the thumb of the other swiped over his bottom lip. A string of questions crossed through Draco’s mind, “When would you wear this?” he thought, tapping his finger against his chin.  

Surely, there was no surprise ball this year, he would’ve heard by now. “Would you wear it on a date?” he questioned, imagining a scenario where the two of you ate dinner at a fancy restaurant, illuminated by just candlelight. “Even better,” Draco trailed off, his eyes lingering over your arse as you admired yourself in the mirror, looking over your shoulder to see the diamond detail that connected the open back, “What would such an expensive piece of clothing look like on his dormitory floor?”  

Draco recalled the conversation he shared with his mother a week prior, where she had counseled him after a particularly difficult day. Narcissa Malfoy had an interesting way of comforting her son. Of course, she sat and listened to him, holding him as he cried, a mixture of guilt and failure coursing through her veins as she fought against the Dark Lord’s plans for her beloved son. The next day, however, she entered Draco’s room with a smile and presented a brand-new wardrobe for him as a start of term gift.  

Pulling himself away from his thoughts, Draco gave a gentle smile and looked up at you, instantly meeting your hopeful eyes.  

“Oh, those eyes” 

“I’m not sure if I should get it,” You admitted, your bottom lip jutting out in a pout as you hopped off the podium and halted in front of the platinum-haired boy. Closing his eyes, Draco took a deep breath, captivated by the intoxicating smell of vanilla radiating off your body. An exquisite aroma, packaged in a —hand-blown— glass perfume bottle with delicate golden leaves painted onto it, finished off with your initials carved at the bottom of it.  

Another one of Draco’s thoughtful gifts.  

“And why is that?” asked Draco, his hand resting against the side of your neck, his thumb rubbing small circles against your jaw. The dress was cut just right, the tight, draped bodice granted him a wonderful view of your breasts, but he looked away to halt the tightening of his pants.  

“I’ve got no occasion for a dress like this,” declared a slightly defeated (Y/N), taking another glance in the mirror, “Well, we’ve still got the goodbye dinner with your parents” You recalled, running your hands down your hips, unintentionally catching Draco’s attention as he remembered the family dinner he had forgotten about. 

“That settles it then,” announced Draco in a chipper tone, “I’ll buy the dress,” he grinned, stepping towards his girlfriend, but halting by the display of diamond accessories. With a glance over the merchandise, he pointed at a necklace set with a pair of earrings, receiving praises from the shopkeeper. Taking the necklace from the older wizard, Draco walked over to (Y/N), “turn around,” he uttered and you happily obliged, watching him as he placed the delicate piece around your neck.  

“Draco-” you began to protest, but he only pressed a kiss against your cheek, clasping the necklace and letting his fingers linger at the back of your neck. The necklace was a breathtaking, diamond necklace with seven glittering emeralds spread evenly across the center.  

“The bracelet and earrings will do nicely as well,” Draco said, nodding his head in approval and signaling for the shopkeeper to begin ringing them up. You opened your mouth to protest again, but Draco placed his finger against your lips, “I believe you recall what I’ve told you, hm?” he teased, raising a questioning eyebrow as (Y/N) nodded, fighting back a smile, “Then, let Daddy spoil you, Princess.”  

There was no denying the power Draco’s tone held over you. His words shot straight between your legs, the feeling of his lips pressed against the side of your neck making you fall against him, finally becoming aware of his erection now pressed against your thigh. 

“Let's finish up so we can go back to the Manor,” you proposed, shifting your thigh ever so slightly to provide him with some much-needed friction. Draco bit his lip and gave a stiff nod, stepping away from you before you could tease him further.  

“Go change,” he ordered, the cocky smirk returning to his lips, “You’ve got five minutes.” Running back towards the dressing room, you peeled off the dress and stepped into your usual clothes, practically sprinting out of it once finished. After a hasty checkout, the two of you exited the shop hand-in-hand, the bag containing your gifts swinging in Draco’s other hand.

                                                             ϟ ϟ ϟ

This school year proved to be the most difficult one yet. N.E.W.T.s we’re now less than a year away and it was never too soon to begin revising. You, however, found it quite difficult to focus on school these last few days. Despite his constant reassurances that he was all right, (Y/N) found some of Draco’s recent behavior quite odd. This strange feeling first arose the week you stayed at Malfoy Manor, where the four of them sat cautiously at a table with Draco’s aunt, Bellatrix Lestrange. You had always had a good relationship with Draco’s relatives, but it was clear to you something was occurring under wraps, something Draco did not want you to know about. Noting his hesitation whenever you brought up the subject, you decided against prying any more information out of him and returned to your studies. Your dedication to academic achievement, much to your surprise, did not go unnoticed by the new Potions Master at Hogwarts, who had heard all about you and Miss Hermione Granger, the two top students of the sixth year.  

Horace Slughorn was a portly, older man, but very gifted with potions and an excellent Professor. Upon arrival, he sought out some of the school’s most promising students and invited them to his office for an elegant dinner. One morning, during breakfast, your owl dropped the intricately decorated envelope right in front of your plate. You had no chance to conceal the envelope from your curious boyfriend, the same one that had tried, without succeeding, to get invited to said dinner.  

However, to your surprise, Draco was not upset. Instead, he pressed a gentle kiss against your temple and muttered the words, “You deserve it, baby girl.” The pet name sends chills down your spine, a smile playing at your lip as his hand rests upon your knee, the cold metal of his rings easing any sort of tension in your body. His left hand rested against your jawline, his slender fingers twiddling with the pearl earring, admiring the small ruby motif encrusted right above the hanging pearl.  

(Y/N) leaned her cheek against his palm, setting the invitation down on the dining hall table, “Are you sure, Darling?” you questioned, taking the time to rest your hand over his, “I might not be able to fit it into my schedule...” you admitted, thoughts of Draco’s mysterious disappearances crossing your mind. Bringing your hand up to his mouth, Draco pressed a soft kiss against the back of it before leaning to press one against your lips.  

“I think,” he started, a sparkle of mischief in his eyes, “You should go show them what the brightest, most caring, and, without a doubt, sexiest girl in Slytherin House has to offer” Draco praised, giving your thigh a small squeeze before dipping to steal another kiss from you, “How does that sound?” He asked sweetly, showering you with yet another kiss, this one against your forehead.  

It was no secret that Draco Malfoy and (Y/N) (L/N) were truly and undeniably in love. Often, the corridors were filled with the incessant whispers of jealous girls who longed for Draco’s attention, but he paid no attention to them. The Slytherin Prince only had eyes for you, the only constant ray of sunshine in his life. Whenever he looked at you, he reminded himself of his vow to keep you completely satisfied, and the only reward he wanted was seeing that gorgeous smile on your face. You were everything to him. You were the only one who knew about his previous family troubles, the one who would hold him when he cried during the late hours of the evening. The one who would fix his tie the second it seemed out of place, the one who would rub his shoulders whenever you noticed him bent over his assignments.  

He would do everything and anything to ensure you felt like the luckiest girl in the world because he knew you, out of all people, deserved it the most.  

”You make an excellent point, Mr. Malfoy,” You grinned, nodding your head in agreement, and flinging your arms around his shoulders. A soft smile crept up Draco’s lips as his arms wrapped around your waist, holding you tightly against his chest and placing a kiss at the top of your head.  

“Don’t I always?” teased Draco, running his fingers through your hair as the other students exited the Great Hall and made their way towards the classes. Rolling your eyes at his response, you placed your hand against his cheek, stealing a kiss from him this time and rising from your seat.  

“We should go,” you announced, stretching your hand out for him to grab, which he happily obliged, rising from the bench and escorting you to your classroom.  

                                          ϟ ϟ ϟ

 A week had passed since Slughorn’s dinner party, the memory of the evening still fresh in Draco’s mind as he tapped his fingers against the wooden desk. Needless to say, he was not particularly pleased with the events of last Saturday. One of Slughorn’s guests had taken quite the liking to you, practically undressing you with his eyes during breakfast hours, something Draco found incredibly disrespectful. He recalled the way Cormac McLaggen eyed you this morning when you bent over to kiss your boyfriend goodbye, skipping out of the Great Hall without a care in the world.  

Draco clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white as his eyebrows knitted together, sparks of frustration igniting within him. Not only was McLaggen ogling you like you were his last meal, but he was also casually brushing up beside you in the corridors, shooting Draco arrogant smirks when they locked eyes.  

Oh, how he would love to jinx that insufferable look off his face. Yeah, that’ll show him.  

He should have been paying attention to Professor Flitwick discussing the proper hand movement for the Gouging Spell, but the thoughts of McLaggen badgering you when he was not around boiled his blood. In hindsight, it was a good thing he was neglecting this lesson because the prospect of gouging a large hole through Cormac seemed very appealing. 

You were particularly busy this week and did not have a lot of time to spend with Draco. Sure, the two of you bid your usual goodnights in the Slytherin common room, but your studying had kept you away from Draco. Due to this, Draco Malfoy was left very touch starved and found himself daydreaming of your earlier rendezvous around the castle.  

Draco turned his head towards you, his face relaxing at once as he watched you diligently taking notes, as usual. You had your bottom lip between your teeth, gnawing it softly as your quill scratched against the parchment. With a content sigh, he admired your concentration and wondered how a person could be that gorgeous. He was, truly, the luckiest man in the world when it came to you.  

He supposed that one could not blame McLaggen for falling for you- I mean, who wouldn’t? Any person would be swept off their feet if you entered the room wearing those silk dresses you were oh so fond of. Draco glanced down at those pretty, pink lips of yours, his eyes practically rolling to the back of his head as you parted them, tongue swiping over your upper lip as you added the final details to your diagram.  

Biting his lip, Draco forced his attention towards Professor Flitwick, but it was already too late. The thoughts of you, sprawled across his bed at Malfoy Manor were enough to replace his earlier frustrations with feelings of lust.  

“Stop,” thought Draco, closing his eyes to contain his feelings, but it was no use. Your lips made an “O” shape when you finally grasped the Charms concepts, making goosebumps appear on Draco’s skin as he shuddered.  

What he would do to have you begging for him right now.  

His pants grew considerably tighter and he couldn’t help but feel grateful towards the school uniforms. The robe he was wearing did a decent job at hiding his current problem, but he knew it would be noticeable when he stood. However, that did not stop him from hearing the way you called his name in the back of his head.  

“Please, Draco...”

“Fuck,” cursed Draco under his breath, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, a slight touch of pink dusting his cheeks. Unable to keep his eyes away, Draco looked back towards you, scanning the soft skin of your neck, and noting how awfully bare it looked. With his self-restraint wavering, he subtly slid down the bench you shared and rested his hand on your knee, something he did quite often. However, you did not question him until you felt his lips against your neck and a hand wrapped tightly around your thigh. Turning your head to face him, you were surprised to see him with his hand over his mouth, his eyes averted from yours as his fingers danced against the smooth skin of your inner thigh.  

“Draco,” you cooed, but the only response you received was a rather harsh nip at your neck, “Draco, someone will see…”  

“I don’t care,” Draco snarled against your ear, “I need this bloody class to be over…” He murmured in a much softer tone, his hand rubbing circles against your thigh and inching closer to your clothed heat. But once you turned to scold him, you noticed the dark, red blush that painted his cheeks and felt his hot breath fanning against your face.  

“Are you alright?” you asked cautiously, innocently rubbing your thumb against his thigh, but that only made Draco twitch in his seat, and his reaction suddenly lit the bulb over your head. Your lips curled into a smirk as your hand moved closer to the bulge on Draco’s pants, turning your attention towards the front of the class as you continued your movements.  

Luckily, the two of you sat at the farthest end of the Charms classroom, away from any overly inquisitive eyes. You were certain nobody would notice, if Draco kept his cool, the two of you would be in the clear.  

“Couldn’t even wait till class was over?” You tutted, delicately tracing your fingers over his crotch, and smirking as he shifted in his seat, “Be careful, I don’t want us to get caught.” You added, firmly cupping his erection through his slacks, a wide grin spreading across your face as he doubled down and hid his face behind a book he propped up. It was honestly quite surprising to see Draco this way. Usually, he would be the one teasing you to no end, but you were currently in control and that was enough to light the fire of your arousal.  

“D-Don’t stop,” Draco pleaded under his breath, biting down on his thumb to hold back a moan as your palm worked to release the built-up tension. Encouraged by his dick twitching underneath your hand, you quickened your pace and watched as he parted his lips, struggling to keep any sound from coming out. As his breathing grew more ragged, you felt his abdominal muscles tense up against your touch, indicating that his release would wash over him soon.  

Fighting to keep the small sense of composure he had left, Draco gripped (Y/N)’s wrist and halted her movements. It took him a minute to catch his breath, but when he did, he spoke in a low whisper, “Wait...” His eyes never met yours because if he looked into those beautiful eyes of yours, he would not be able to control himself. And although the prospect of taking you over the desk seemed quite promising, he did not fancy the idea of letting the rest of the student body see you bent over in such a vulnerable state.  

That was only for him, of course.  

“What’s wrong, Darling?” You teased letting your fingers trace over his crotch again, but he only clicked his tongue at you. Draco knew you too well, he knew you were only trying to rile him up again, but he could not let that happen, not right now. With adrenaline coursing through your body, you leaned towards Draco and let your breath fan against his neck before licking a stripe behind his ear, “Didn’t want to come all over those expensive slacks of yours, hm?” You murmured, gently nipping his earlobe, and taking his momentary lapse of strength to palm his erection once more.  

Draco gritted his teeth once again, pulling your hand away from his pants, “I said wait,” he growled, his lust-clouded eyes finally meeting yours, “You do know how to follow instructions, don’t you?” He asked in a much harsher, more desperate tone.  

“Depends on who’s giving them.” You replied sarcastically, placing your free hand on his knee with a smirk.  

However, Draco did not get a chance to shoot his response back at you. Once the bell signaling the end of class rang, he shot up off his seat and gathered both your belongings before taking your hand and hastily pulling you out of the classroom. A few students stared as the two of you rushed down the hall, blushing in embarrassment as you stumbled after Draco.

His hand gripped yours tightly, leading you towards the Prefects’ bathroom, and stuttering out the password once the two of you arrived. Flinging your book bags across the floor, Draco turned and stalked towards you making you step back until your back hit something solid.

“Think you’re funny, are you?” sneered Draco, pinning you against one of the cubicles, his thigh pressed firmly between your legs and his right forearm braced beside your head. Replicating your earlier movements, Draco dragged his tongue underneath your ear before taking the lobe between his teeth, making you gasp. “Why don’t we put that filthy mouth of yours to better use?” He cooed, blowing a puff of air against your ear, and admiring it as it turned red.  

With a sudden burst of confidence, you gripped his robes and pulled his face towards yours, breaths mingling together, “I think,” You muttered, leaning your lips close to his, “That’s the best idea you’ve had all day…” Looking up at his half-lidded eyes, you crashed your lips against Draco’s, fingers immediately tangling themselves in his hair. Draco returned your kiss eagerly, his hands cupping your arse underneath your skirt and pulling your body flush against his.  

You could feel Draco growing more impatient by the minute. His hands were grabbing desperately at your skin, squeezing every inch of bare flesh he could feel. Longing to have you closer to him, Draco slipped his hand underneath your thigh and hooked it over his hip, fingers gripping hard enough to bruise. Your back arched off the wall, hips grinding against Draco’s as your tongues laced together in a heated kiss. Tugging at your tie, Draco reached to unbutton your blouse and pulled it open, exposing your bra-clad breasts.  

He pressed his lips against the base of your neck, biting and sucking encouraged by your moans beside his ear. One of his hands held your thigh firmly while the other kneaded your left breast, pulling the fabric of your bra down and taking your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. You gasped harshly, bucking into him, and digging your fingers into his hair, messing up the parts that remained previously neat. Draco rolled his erection against your soaked panties, smiling down at your face as his hands kneaded your clothed breasts, “So pretty,” he murmured, captivated by your flushed face and the shameful sounds passing through your lips.  

Your hands reached up to grab his face, pulling him down for another kiss. This time, using the momentum to switch your positions so Draco’s back hit the stall door, earning a small moan of surprise from him. Grinning up at him, you pressed your lips against his neck and slid your hand down the front of his body, cupping him firmly as you sucked the sensitive skin. 

Draco let out gasping breaths as you moved your hand, his fingers digging into your waist, “On your knees,” commanded Draco, trying to regain some sort of control over the situation. You obliged happily, dropping down to your knees and lazily running your fingers over his thighs before reaching up for his belt. After fiddling with the buckle, you took your time sliding Draco’s slacks down, purposely neglecting his throbbing dick hidden in his underwear.  

“Don’t be a tease,” snapped Draco, gripping your chin harshly, “Suck,” He commanded firmly, releasing you as you pulled down his boxer briefs. Draco’s thick length snapped up towards his lower abs, almost slapping you in the face when it sprung out of its constraints. Almost drooling at the glorious sight of his cock, you took it in your hand, running your thumb over the pre-cum leaking out of the reddened tip. Draco bucked his hips forwards, hissing at the light touch, and looking down at your concentrated expression as you slowly pumped your hand.  

Lolling your tongue out dramatically, you leaned forwards and gave the tip a kitten lick, earning a frustrated groan from Draco. Satisfied with his discomfort, you gave the swollen tip another kiss before taking his length fully into your mouth. He let out a strangled gasp in response, his eyes squeezed shut as you enthusiastically licked up his length. Sealing off your lips, much like a vacuum seal, you bobbed your head up and down his shaft, tongue swirling around it as Draco trembled underneath you, his hand over his mouth attempting to stifle the sounds coming out of it.  

Draco looked down at you, unable to control the string of low moans and grunts spewing from his lips. The sight of your plump lips stretching around his cock made him lose the few ounces of coherent thoughts he had left in his mind. Draco let out another strangled moan, throwing his head back against the stall door as you swirl your tongue around his shaft and use your hand to pump the base of his cock. His hand flew to the back of your head when you moved to take all of him in your mouth, your nose brushing the trimmed tufts of hair as you choked around him, the contraction of your throat making him groan out your name.  

With another husky moan, Draco balled your hair up into a ponytail and used it as leverage to thrust into your mouth. “Yes, yes,” whimpered Draco, his face flushed red and his breath caught in his throat, “Just like that, (Y/N)” he hissed, his grey eyes flickering down and meeting yours, making his roll back again as he pulled his lip between his teeth. Your fingernails dug into the back of his thighs, squeezing them tighter as he quickened his pace. You moaned around his dick, the vibrations sending a violent quake through his body as he face-fucked you, his climax only moments away.  

“Ah, you take my cock so well, Princess” groaned Draco, his pace stuttering, “You’re so bloody gorgeous” He sighed, his fingers delving tightly into your hair as you continued to swirl your tongue around the shaft, relaxing your jaw to let the tip of his penis hit the back of your throat.  

The sounds coming from Draco’s mouth had you soaking wet and yearning to feel his load shoot down your throat. Determined to finish him off, you moved your hand to fondle his balls, moaning with satisfaction as his cock pulsated in your mouth. His breaths grew ragged and the only sounds coming from him were small whimpers and grunts. You looked up at him through your eyelashes, his platinum blonde hair fell messily over his eyes, which were currently screwed shut as his face twisted with pleasure.   

Draco’s eyes fluttered open, meeting your eager ones for a second time, but it was too much. Cursing loudly, Draco’s pace grew sloppier and rougher, his body trembling as you fondled his balls once again.  

“(Y/N)!” He cried out as you gagged around him, thick ropes of cum coating the inside of your mouth as he came, hard. You struggled to swallow his heavy load, but you were adamant on taking every last drop, just how he liked it. Draco gasped as he caught his breath, his hand still in your hair as he gave your mouth two final shallow thrusts, pulling out as you licked him clean.  

With his chest heaving, Draco delicately placed his hand against your cheek and slid his thumb over your swollen lips. You press a chaste kiss against the pad of his thumb, the corners of your mouth curling up into a loving smile. He brought you back up to your feet, capturing your lips in a kiss that was all tongue before pulling away with a satisfied smile on his face.  

“You’re quite chipper now, aren’t you?” You teased, hitting him playfully on the shoulder as he pulled his slacks up, tucking his shirt back into his pants and shooting you a wink.  

“Yes, actually,” He retorted, his usual smirk appearing on his lips, “And why is that?” You asked, taking the time to button your own shirt, blushing as Draco stalked towards you. He placed his hand on the side of your neck, pulling down your collar to admire the angry, red marks that decorated it.  

With a small huff, he dipped down and sucked on the spot below your jaw, your knees buckling and hands gripping his shoulders as he bit down. Once he was satisfied with his handiwork, Draco pulled away, smirking at the mark that would surely be visible for days.  

“Because I’m the only one who gets to have you like this,” admitted Draco, pulling you into a hug and resting his chin atop your head, “Can’t wait until I catch McLoser drooling over you, I’ll make sure to remind him who he’s dealing with.”  

You laughed at Draco’s declaration, your arms tightening around him as you embraced, “Are you ready for lunch then? He could already be there” You teased, pressing a kiss against his nose, and pulling away to pick up your bag from the bathroom floor. Draco chuckled as you skipped back towards him, giving your behind a playful smack as you walked past him, “Don’t run off thinking I won’t return the favor,” stated Draco salaciously, catching your hand and pulling you back before you could exit the bathroom.  

You looked up at him with a curious expression, “Is that so?” You questioned with a grin, walking towards him, and placing your hand on his chest, “Is it something I should look forward to?” You asked, tilting your head to the side innocently.  

Draco laughed, raising his hand to cup your cheek, “Come to my room tonight at eleven, wearing that pretty little dress from Twilfitt and Tattings,” muttered Draco, his lips close to yours once again, “I’ll make it worth your while,” he winked, his fingers dipping underneath your skirt to swipe over your clothed core.  

Shivering under his touch, you blushed embarrassingly as he examined the slick now coating his finger, “All for me, Princess?” He teased, contently licking his finger clean and grabbing his own book bag, “Actually, I was thinking about McLaggen” you quipped, stepping out of the Prefect’s bathroom with a bounce in your step which Draco followed after, his eyebrows furrowed as he flanked you. 

“Careful, Love” warned Draco with a hum, his hand sliding into yours as you walked, “or I’ll have to teach that naughty mouth of yours another lesson.”

                                               ϟ ϟ ϟ

 Your four-year anniversary drew nearer, and you found yourself worried about Draco’s behavior yet again. He grew increasingly distant as the term progressed and you could not help but worry, despite his constant reassurances, stating there was nothing to worry about. This, again, left you feeling frustrated. You and Draco started dating during your third year and it had taken a while to break down his walls to understand him, but now it seemed like some of that progress was overturned. 

However, when he was around, he always made the effort to shower you with affection and ensure you were being taken care of. Draco knew your habits better than anything, he knew you would be questioning his behavior and launching your own investigations to find the underlying cause of it, but he could not let you interfere. He was already under fire for having ‘distractions’ and had promised the Dark Lord nothing would come in the way of his success.  

To keep you safe, you had to be left in the dark. It wounded Draco to see that distraught expression on your face when he came into the common room past midnight, sometimes even asleep, curled up on the couch waiting for him to return. He felt guilty for putting you through all this, but it was necessary for your safety and nothing was more important than protecting you.  

His nights were constantly haunted by horrifying images of you injured or worse, dead in his arms after some terrible mistake he made. These thoughts were constantly wearing him down, but he could not tell you, it was just too risky to involve you in this situation. This stressful internal struggle encouraged Draco to show you how much you meant to him.  

He wanted you to know that you were, truly, the most important person in his life.  

“Draco,” You whined with your hands over your eyes as Draco led you through the empty streets of Hogsmeade, “Can’t I just open my eyes? I’ve been to Hogsmeade plenty of times” you reminded him, but he only chuckled beside you, holding you by the waist as you walked.  

“I’m trying to surprise you,” Draco stated, rolling his eyes, “So why don’t you stop complaining and follow me.” He declared, pressing a kiss against your cheek, and leading you towards the clothing shops in the village. Draco halted in front of a large store window, looking up at the dress and envisioning you in them with a proud grin.  

“Alright,” he started, grabbing the hands that covered your face, “Ready?” He murmured, pressing a kiss against her fingertips as you nodded. Counting to three, Draco pulled your hands away from your face and stepped out of your view, letting you take in the sight before you.  

In front of you stood a tall mannequin wearing a floor-length shimmering, emerald green gown with small silver detailing the bust, “Wow” you muttered breathlessly, leaning closer to the window to get a better look of the design. The mannequin turned 180 degrees, giving her a better view of the open back and long train that followed the dress.  

“Do you like it?” Draco asked, looking down at his ring with a content smile on his face. 

Your eyes scanned over the glittering, diamond pendant necklace complete with matching water drop earrings, “It’s gorgeous,” you replied, looking over at your boyfriend with a puzzled expression, “Why do I get the feeling you’re up to something?” You asked, quirking your eyebrow at him as he laughed.  

“You know me well, Darling” Draco admitted sheepishly, leading you towards the door of the stop and holding it open, “I just thought, since you’ve been attending Slughorn’s dinner parties, that you would need some more evening outfits to show off,” He stated proudly, his hand against the small of your back as he gestured you towards the changing rooms.  

“Draco, I couldn’t possibly! You bought me one at the start of term!” You protested, grabbing his hands but part of you knew his mind was already made up. 

“You’re right,” He agreed with a nod, placing his hand against your cheek, “And I’m going to buy you four more today,” He stated nonchalantly, looking back at the four sets of the dresses brought over by the shopkeeper, “You better get started,” he urged, taking a seat on the ottoman in front of the dressing room.  

With a loving smile, you captured Draco’s lips in a kiss, “I love you” You said, squeezing his hand as he returned your smile.  

“And I love you most,” He replied, pressing a kiss against your forehead, and urging towards the dressing room, “Come on, I want to see how stunning you look in those.” Giggling, you ran into the changing room, winking back at Draco before sliding the curtain close and getting into the first dress.  

Several hours later, you and Draco exited the shop with four bags containing various dresses, jewelry pieces, and, even, a brand-new suit. After one final stop at Honeydukes, the two of you made your way towards the castle, treasuring the time you spent together and the memories you created while doing so.

[blahkugo]

𝟑 ༒ 𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔲 𝔰𝔥𝔞𝔩𝔱 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔱𝔞𝔨𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔫𝔞𝔪𝔢 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔶 𝔩𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔦𝔫 𝔳𝔞𝔦𝔫

⤷ dirty valentine m.list

⤷ complete hq m.list

tōru oikawa — dirty talk

a/n: tōru “steal ur bitch” oikawa. i apologize for yet another cucking fic (no i don’t) <3 thank you to @theygottheircages for that last line ( ˘ ³˘)♡

wc: 1.4k

cw: adultery, degradation, slapping, oinks being a bastard

Your fall from heaven began with a glance. It was nothing more than an accident, a stare held one second too long to be anything other than romantic. But the moment you laid eyes on him—batted fluffy lashes up towards this divine bringer of light—you knew it was much too late to avoid being blinded.

He feeds you the apple in slices.

A smirk, the graze of his knuckles on your bare skin, an effortless tick of his jaw that keeps you pondering for days to come; Oikawa is a master manipulator. It’s so sweet, so innocent, when he swipes a thumb across your cheek to retrieve a lost eyelash, but those same fingers send shivers down your spine.

It was manageable—harmless fun, even. Your relationship suffered naught from the temptations, because, if anything, it made you more eager for Issei. The little traipses with temptation only urged you to kiss your fiancée harder, to love more passionately, to grip him with a ferocity each and every time he held you in that unwavering grasp of his.

But the snip was inevitable, wings torn off in a haze of lust and immorality.

You should have seen it coming, should have bitten the hand that fed you. Because once that wretched apple was gone, he had nothing more to give you. But you asked for more, practically begged for the precarious situation you now find yourself in—Ambrosia-soaked fingertips pressed against your eager tongue.

“You’re slobbering all over me,” he smirks, pressing deeper, “it’s disgusting.” The Devil has a way of making the crudest remarks sound regal, alluring and utterly irresistible even as he promises eternal damnation.

You mewl around his digits, pleading for the mercy of sweet release; Oikawa only laughs, nudging your legs apart with his free hand and diving straight for your pretty lace panties. He doesn’t have to check to know you’re drenched, a patch of slick soaking through the skimpy article and trailing your thighs. Any lesser reaction would be a disservice to his sanctity.

“What should I do with you?” He questions, expectant, though his fingers remain lodged inside your mouth. A knuckle curls and unfurls against your clothed slit—teasing, maddening. “Hm?”

“Fuck me,” your words are garbled around him, “please.”

The plea doesn’t sway him, finger still lazily circling your bud. He seems to be contemplating his next move, deciding how to debauch you further. Your room feels small, held captive by the dizzying scent of pink pepper and rum—his cologne.

Oikawa has never been an entity that sits by the sidelines. No, like water in any container, wherever he is he fills with himself. He is too grand not to be the center of attention, too illustrious to ignore. You can swear up and down that you were already much too enamored to take heed of his presence, but it’d be a lie all the same.

“Don’t get all dazed on me now,” he snaps, slapping at your clit. The whine that leaves you should be illegal, a high-pitched huff of air that makes you sound depraved. “Why should I bother with Mattsun’s leftovers?” He tilts his head ever-so slightly, soft brunette locks tousling with the movement. It’s an action wholly unsuitable for someone so wretched.

The mention of your poor, sweet fiancé sends a rush of guilt through you—at the weight of what you’re about to take part in. Leftovers. That’s all you are to the Devil before you, all you’ll ever be. And yet, the shame brings with it a new wave of heat to your core.

As humiliating as it may be, you have no choice but to heed the warning. You may have been able to refuse him, had you been stronger, more sound in your principles. But too much of your soul belongs to him already, too many nights spent yearning and aching for this very moment.

That’s why—with a trembling voice, body ablaze with greed—you begin your oblation,

“Tōru.” You attempt to call as sweetly as possible, stretching his name even as your voice remains muffled around his digits. Though his face stays steady, arrogant smirk sitting proudly, you swear you feel a slight twitch in his fingers. “Need you inside me,” a pout, paired with a soft graze of his bare bicep, “m’so wet for you, p-please.”

It’s enough to set him off.

Oikawa doesn’t bother stretching you out; whether it’s because he’s well aware how most of your nights with Issei end—panting beneath the sheets—or because he simply doesn’t care to, you’re unsure. But instead of nudging his fingers into you, he simply sinks his cock in, fast and heavy, digits of his left hand still hooked onto your pliant tongue.

“Oh, fuck,” he hisses sharply, “how are you this fucking tight?” Tears cloud your vision, your lower half bursting with pain as you instinctually attempt to scramble away, but Tōru’s free hand now rests at your waist, clutching you tightly against him.

“Tōru!” The tears flow freely down your cheeks now. “Shlow– ah, slow down!” Even as you cry out, you know the words are meaningless. Every twinge of pain makes you drool, every slap of heavy balls against your slit urges you to wrap your legs around his middle and pull him closer. It seems Oikawa knows it, too.

“Cute.” It’s his favorite word for you, a compliment that used to make your eyes grow wide and your skin prickle with pride. Now, it sounds like nothing more than a sneer—praise for a favorite pet.

Despite your pleas, the pace Oikawa sets is relentless. When he finally frees your mouth, it’s only to slather slick fingers across your face. There’s a tap at your cheek—once, twice—the palm of his hand slapping softly before gripping at your jaw. He bends to meet the shell of your ear, nipping at it with sharp canines before whispering,

“Mattsun told us all about how much you love to play the good girl.” You draw a sharp breath, but Tōru only snickers. “It ‘hurts so bad,’ right?” A sharp thrust, a mewl from you. “I’d play along,” he grunts when your nails dig into his back, “but I want to see that look on your face.”

There’s a throbbing now, a wrench in your gut that has nothing to do with how hard Oikawa pounds into you. Issei—sweet and doting, the perfect man to settle down with—has shared your most intimate moments with this bastard? It’s wrong, to criticize an angel’s minor sin while (quite literally) in bed with the devil, but you can’t help the hurt.

“There’s that face,” he declares proudly, lips quirking into a sly smile. “Now, I want to hear it. Why are you panting like a bitch in heat?” His fingers press bruises into your waist. “Why are you pulling me closer?” Sweat drips off your bodies, the heat and humidity clouding your brain. “You beg and you cry, but really, you love being fucked like this.” When your eyes roll back, he slaps your cheek once more. “Don’t you?”

The fingers at your waist move all at once, grazing your thighs before circling rapidly at your bundle of nerves. You don’t think you can speak, want nothing more than to deny the goading, but the pleasure makes your head foggy and your tongue loose.

“I-I do! I do!” The irony of the those two words—of the fact that you’ll be whispering them to your beloved in only a few days, isn’t lost on you. “Fuck- Tōru, I love being f-fucked like this.”

“Atta girl!” Oikawa laughs louder now, a bellowing that rumbles his chest, sweat-soaked skin strained tightly against your own.

You once thought yourself Eve, led awry by the temptations of a fallen angel. You thought yourself holy and misplaced in your naive trust of the figure before you. But what of Lilith? What of the demoness, the woman disgraced long before the Devil could dishevel her?

“Now, why don’t we call up Mattsun and let him know just how much of a slut you are?”

Angels of a feather fall together.

[theyreonlynoodlesmike]

When you have time I would really like a mad Thomas fic where he proposes to the reader 🥺 thanks for opening requests again!!

"I have a fic idea with mad thomas it's a bit messy but bear with me, so being the pastors daughter, hannahs older sister and thomas being absolutely infatuated with you but the good pastors daughter with the town drunk is obviously big no no. Can you craft something from this :D sorry it's bit a messy" - anon

Combining these requests!! I hope you guys enjoy :))

Marry Me (Mad Thomas x Miller!Reader)

Warnings: tooth rotting fluff with sinister undertones if you squint, Thomas is in love, kissing, traditional puritan values, Thomas is Thomas, drinking mention

Word Count: 1.4k

You found Thomas outside the church, stumbling and slurring, and you watched how he fell. You paused. In all your life, you'd seen Thomas drunker than anyone else. But, you'd never seen him fall.

You nearly dropped your lantern as you ran over to him, kneeling besides him and setting it down. You hovered your hands over him, panic washing over you as you fumbled over what you were supposed to do.

You could never understand why Thomas was always chasing at the end of your coat-tails. Why he followed you around town, waited for you outside the church.

He should've known better, really. You were pastor Miller's daughter. His eldest daughter. You couldn't even begin to entertain romance, especially with Mad Thomas. That's what he was known around the town. You had to set an example, make good of the Miller name. But, Thomas seemed to think that it didn't matter that you were the pastors daughter and that he was the town drunk. And, slowly, he was starting to convince you of the same thing.

He'd follow you around the settlement, walking backwards so he could look at you as he walked. He'd try to win you over with compliments or bible verses, maybe even a few flowers he'd picked if he was feeling particularly sentimental. You gave him a polite smile to each of them, nothing more. Nothing your mother would glare at you for. The others even began to make jokes, declaring him love drunk and teasing you whenever he called after you.

And, while you were growing secretly fond of the man, you could never tell a soul about that. You never uttered a whisper of the growing feelings for him, even to your sister.

You simply tucked the few flowers away, pressing them between the pages of your books for no one to find. You accepted his compliments, but never returned them. And, while you never told him to go away or invited him to walk with you, you secretly hoped that he would keep you company. It was almost a ritual at this point for him to walk you home after you finished cleaning the church for the night.

"Thomas?" You whispered, your hands hovering over his chest. You watched as his head moved a bit, but his eyes didn't open. You could see the slow rise and fall of his chest, so most of your anxiety dissipated. Carefully, you reached to touch his chest and give it a small shake. "Thomas?" You asked again, but he didn't move. Finally, you reached to touch his cheek, and he moved then.

His hand came up, gripping your wrist out of what seemed like instinct, and his eyes flicked open. But, when you came into view, you could see him relax. His grip on your wrist loosened, and, instead, he moved to hold it against his face. You could feel his stubble underneath your hand as he moved to press his lips against your palm, an action that was so bold it shocked you. You felt as thought the feeling of his lips has seared into your skin, and you were too surprised to even pull away. You shook your head, moving to brush your hand back over his cheek as you asked,

"Are you alright?" You asked him, moving to lean over him slightly. You ignored how it felt to brush your fingertips against his cheek, to have his warm hand covering the back of yours. He blinked slowly as his eyes opened, turning once more back to you. You could tell, even if it was hard, that Thomas was far drunker than usual. So much so that it seemed even difficult for him to find his words. "Is your head alright?" You asked, reaching to brush his hair from his face with your other hand.

You watched how his eyes fluttered closed for a moment, before he was reaching out to grip your skirt. You watched as he pulled himself up, as much as he could, before he practically fell into your lap. You'd lifted your hands, watched in pure shock, before you had him adjusting to find the most comfortable spot in your lap. His hands left a smear of dirt where he gripped your skirt, and, while you knew it could be washed out, you knew your reputation would never recover if anyone found the pair of you like this.

You were outside the church. Not even inside it. You were practically in the center of town, and Thomas seemed fine with making himself this familiar. It brought a heat to your cheeks, one that the lantern didn't illuminate thankfully. Your hands hovered for a moment, before you settled one on his shoulder and brushed the other over his cheek. It was a bold touch, one that you had no excuse for now. How would you explain this? Thomas cut off any of those thoughts with a quiet slur of,

"For where your treasure is, your heart will be also..." And you could only barely recognize it as scripture. You brushed his hair behind his ear, wondering why you weren't pushing him off. Why you weren't leaving him to find his way back to the outhouse. You didn't catch his whisper of, "You're my treasure." And you had to ask,

"Hm?" As you leaned down a bit. He blinked, tilting his head up. While his eyes were usually clouded, tonight they seemed so clear. You watched him as he said,

"Marry me." And you stared at him. You couldn't have heard him right. You furrowed your brows, asking a soft,

"What was that?" And you watched how a grin grew on his face. A grin that you recognized. He tried to push himself up, before he gave up and settled back into the softness of your lap.

"Marry me." He said again, and this time he moved to wrap his arms around your legs. He was growing over you like a pair of vines, it seemed. The more you let him stay, the more he wanted to wrap himself around you. You supposed he'd done the same over your heart. You couldn't believe- You couldn't believe that he was serious, that he was even asking. Still, it pained you to say,

"Thomas," You paused for a moment. "You- We can't. You'd have to ask for my father's blessing and he'd never-" It nearly choked you up to say it. He'd never agree. Not only would he have to give you his blessing, but he'd have to officiate it. You couldn't even imagine it, both your father and Thomas waiting for you at the altar. Thomas, however, looked up at you with a brightness in his eye. This time when he pushed himself up, he succeeded. He was leaning on one arm, and so close to you that it made your eyes widen.

"And why not?" And you gave him an exasperated look. You held your hands out in front of you, listing off the reasons you knew the pair of you could never be together.

"You- You have no farm, no home, no trade. You couldn't support me. You- Your gluttony with the drink is more than enough reason. He'd never-" And you didn't really even think he was listening. He was staring at your lips as they moved, before Thomas finally cut off your rambles. He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to your lips and holding you by the side of your neck. You made a small noise, your surprise caught in your throat. It was only a short kiss, one that barely lasted a second. And, still, it silenced your words and made your heart thunder in your chest.

"I'll get a farm, a home, a trade. I can't promise I'll get rid of the drink, but I'd rather have you as my vice instead." And you shouldn't be swooning. You shouldn't be finding his words romantic. But, his fingers were caressing the side of your neck, and you almost found yourself tilting your head closer. As if you wanted him to kiss you again. It made your lips burn, and your heart was practically exploding in your chest. All of your feelings, every ounce that you'd repressed, seemed to come pouring out at once. "Marry me." He said once more, and he leaned forward to press his forehead against yours. And, you bit your lip before you said,

"Convince my father, and I will." And the simple admittance, the simple confirmation that his feelings were returned made it feel as if an elephant had stepped off his chest. He smiled for a moment, before he whispered,

"I'll take care of your father, I promise." Before he leaned in to kiss you again.

[thebadgerclan]

Countless Compliments

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova x reader

Summary: At one of the King’s many balls, you receive countless compliments...

A/N: Not requested, but enjoy Aleksander simping over his wife

Heads turned, as they always did, as you and Aleksander entered the ballroom.  Normally, Aleksander dreaded these balls; the idle small talk with dignitaries vying for his favor, pretending to care about whatever the King was saying, but when you were with him, he found himself actually enjoying himself.  With you, his gorgeous wife, on his arm, Aleksander felt like a king, like there was nothing he couldn’t do.

“Come, love,” he said, leading you towards the raised diases where the King and Queen sat on their ornate thrones.  “Let’s greet the royals.”  You nodded, letting your husband steer you towards the King and Queen.  Both of you bowed low before the rulers, rising after a few seconds.  “Moi tsar, Moya tsarista,” Aleksander said.  “My wife and I thank you for your invitation this evening.  We are honored to attend.”  King Alexander smiled, and Queen Tatiana nodded.  “Of course, my boy, of course!  We’re happy to have you!”  

“You look lovely this evening, Y/N,” Queen Tatiana said, and you dipped into a curtsey.  “Thank you, Moya tsaritsa.  Your words are very kind.”  Your husband and the king chatted aimlessly for a few moments while you simply stood at his side, observing the ballroom.  “Well, don’t let me keep you from all the fun!” the King declared.  “Go!  Enjoy yourselves!”  “Thank you, Moi tsar.  Moya tsaritsa.”  You and Aleksander bowed again, and he offered you his arm again, which you took with a smile.

Aleksander summoned a waiter, taking a flute of champagne for both of you, toasting your glass.  “To my beautiful wife,” he said, a smile on his face.  “May she someday know how much I adore and worship her.”  He sipped his glass, and you raised your own.  “To my handsome husband.  May he continue to be my strength and stay and to know how I love him.”  You sipped your drink, and Aleksander kissed your forehead.  “I love you, Y/N.  My wife, my darling, how I love you.”

He kissed your forehead again, before tipping your chin upward to press a sweet kiss to your lips.  Aleksander didn’t care if anyone saw the two of you, in fact, he said let them.  If foreign ambassadors, royal courtiers, his own soldiers, saw him kissing his wife, then good for them.  He was a man in love, and he wasn’t afraid to let the world know.  When he pulled back, you were blushing, and he sipped his champagne.  

“Moi soverennyi,” the Kerch ambassador said as he approached.  “Moya soverennyi.”   “Ambassador, how lovely to see you,” Aleksander greeted, extending his hand for him to shake.  “And you, sir, and you.  And might I say, Y/N, you look simply radiant this evening.”  You blushed again, and Aleksander positively beamed.  “She does, doesn’t she,” he said, heart swelling with pride.  “Thank you, Ambassador,” you said, shaking his hand as well.  “Your, what is it you call them?  Oh yes, keftas!  Your kefta is beautiful, is it silk?”

You swished your hips, the inky black silk with Y/G/C embroidery shifting like water.  “It is, and thank you.”  You heard the musicians present begin to warm up, and the Ambassador cleared his throat.  “I was wondering if I could offer you a dance, Moya soverennyi?”  You glanced at Aleksander, whose heart nearly burst from his chest.  He would never stop you from dancing with whomever you liked, but the simple fact that you cared what he thought made him feel warm.

He nodded, a kind smile on his face, and you stepped forward.  “I’d be delighted, Ambassador.”  You took his offered hand and let him lead you onto the dance floor.  Aleksander watched as you and the Ambassador danced, his hand remaining in the center of your back, never moving upwards or downwards, the picture of a gentleman.  He sipped his drink, the smile he wore never fading.  He watched the swish of your kefta, the way your eyes lit up when you laughed at something the Ambassador said, and how you gracefully spun about the room.

When the song ended, the Ambassador offered his arm and led you back to your husband, bowing slightly.  “Thank you for the dance, Moya soverennyi.  You are quite a skilled dancer.”  “Thank you, Ambassador,” you said, smiling kindly.  “I shall leave you to the festivities.  Moi soverennyi, Moya soverennyi.”  He bowed once more and took his leave, leaving you with your husband.  “I do hope you still want to dance with me, my love,” Aleksander teased as the musicians began playing again.  

“But of course, husband dearest.”  You grinned as Aleksander led you back onto the dance floor, resting his right hand on your hip, his left hand taking yours.  He twirled and spun you about the room, eyes never leaving your face, smitten as he always was with your beauty.  This dance was a rather fast paced one, and when you were done, you were both out of breath, and Aleksander fetched you both a glass of water.  

While your husband stepped away, a pair of courtiers approached you.  “We just wanted to offer our compliments, Moya soverennyi,” one said.  “You look beautiful this evening as always.”  Aleksander had returned, unnoticed by the courtiers.  “I must say, you are so very lucky to have a husband such as General Kirigan.”  “I assure you, he said, making the courtiers jump.  “I am the lucky one, to have Y/N as my wife.”  The young girls, clearly new members of Tatiana’s court, skittered away, and Aleksander laughed.

The rest of the evening passed in a similar fashion; dancing, conversing with dignitaries, ambassadors, and courtiers, and countless compliments to your beauty, your kefta, your dancing, essentially everything about you.  And with each compliment, Aleksander only gazed at you with the utmost love and adoration.  He was enamored with you, completely and entirely in love with you.  Anyone who had eyes could see that their general was head over heels in love with his wife and how much he treasured her.

Around midnight, when the party was dwindling, long after the King and Queen had left, Aleksander wrapped an arm around your shoulders.  “Are you ready to retire, love?”  You nodded, jaw dropping in a yawn.  Your husband steered you from the ballroom and into the courtyard connecting the Grand and Little Palaces.  The night was warm, a light breeze playing with your hair and the hem of your kefta.  “Did you have a good time tonight, darling?”  “I did,” you answered, leaning your head on Aleksander’s shoulder.  “You?”  “I had a great time.  Now let’s get you up to bed.”  “Hmm,” you hummed.  “Alright.”  Aleksander smiled as he led you back to the Little Palace, pressing a kiss to your temple.  

[bokutosworld]

a piece of you in me | hq boys in love

characters: kageyama, tsukishima, kenma, akaashi, kita!   

wc: 1.5k words, fluff!!! 

prompt: "i am a mosaic of everyone i've ever loved, even for a heartbeat." 

-> the little things that remind them of you and how your love has made them feel complete

---

KAGEYAMA TOBIO: He picks up on your favorite expressions and phrases, and slowly incorporates them in his life and makes them his own. He doesn't even realize it, that he's already scrunching his nose like you do when you see something you don't like. Or that when he's thinking hard about something, he's tilting his head in the way that you do. There are also subtle changes in the way he reacts when Hinata messes up his spikes -- less shouting and more helpful explaining of how his partner could improve. And when the team sees this, they are dumbstruck and left thinking how you were a good influence to him.

"What do you think of this, Tobio?" You summon your boyfriend to help you decide on which dress to buy. He immediately walks over to you, putting a hand on your waist as he settles by your side and gives a look over to the clothing item. He hums as he tilts his head, eyes narrowing as he imagines how it would like on you.  

As the two of you were too engrossed on choosing what to buy, an old saleslady passes by the aisle and smiles at the scene in front of her. She watches as Kageyama takes dresses from the racks and takes you in front of a mirror to help you see which looks better. She takes note of how the two of you act so in sync, how his actions complement yours. But what the lady is most amazed about is how the two of you come to the same exact decision at the same time. It was a refreshing sight to see a young couple going along so well, that the old lady can't help but think that you two were meant to be.

TSUKISHIMA KEI: He remembers how on your very first date at that summer festival, you didn't hold back on trying the different kinds of food and snacks. You left quite the impression on him, so much so that after years of being together, you are the first person that pops up in his mind when he's trying a new restaurant with his family or friends. It's like second nature to him to scan the menu, looking for dishes that you would like and making a mental note to take you to that particular place.  

The waiter arrived at your table, placing the plate of stacked pancakes right at the center. At this point, you and Tsukishima were starving after spending almost twenty minutes in waiting. He excitedly brought you out to brunch, sharing how much you'll like the breakfast menu at this new restaurant. And he wasn't wrong.

Your jaw almost dropped, seeing the most scrumptious stack of chocolate pancakes. It was topped with the most luscious pieces of strawberries and covered with maple syrup that was slowly drizzling down the plate. You were quick to take shots of your order from different angles. When you were finally satisfied with the photos, you look up to see Tsukishima extending his hand and offering you a piece of pancake which you gladly accepted. Your eyes went wide, glancing at your boyfriend who had his hand tucked under his cheek and gazing at you lovingly. He says, "I knew you’d like it."

KOZUME KENMA: He knows how much of a cinephile you are. Whenever the two of you are watching movies over at his apartment, you never fail to share one random fact about the film that was currently playing. He adores how you are updated with the latest movies in production or those that are soon to be released. That's why he's developed a habit to always check the movie times in the nearest theater, monitoring it to see if the film you have been raving about is finally showing. The boys often extend an invitation to him for movie nights but they're aware that there's no else he'd rather watch together with than you.

It was the third time this week that you stayed behind at work for overtime. Any other day would be fine, but Kenma thought that you deserved an early time off on a weekend. Seeing that he had free time, he decides to surprise you with a trip to the movies. It so happened that earlier in the morning, he chanced upon the movie releases and saw that a sequel to your favorite movie was showing.

When he shows up at your office, he sees your worn out figure hunched over the desk. He had to stop himself from physically dragging you out of the building, opting to wake you and drop the tickets he bought in your lap.

"What is this," you question him. The knobs in your head were turning and soon, it finally clicks that this was the movie that you've been waiting for. "Oh god, is it premiering tonight? How did you know?" He answers you by throwing your coat to your table, and telling you to hurry before you miss the movie.

He was helping you wrap the scarf around your neck, his hands finding its way to cup your cheeks. "I figured you'd forget since you had a busy week. So, I wanted to reward you." He presses a kiss to your forehead, "I'm proud of you. Let's go."

AKAASHI KEIJI: Since you started having sleepovers together, his apartment feels emptier without you. Like how you've etched your way in his life, you've managed to leave a mark in his home. It's in the way that your scent lingers in his pillowcases, the way you've positioned your toothbrush next to his. He's even started looking forward to mornings because you always make him coffee in the way he likes it. He's starting to think that you seem to know you way around his own house better than he does -- but he's not complaining. It's only got him imagining what the future would like, living with you.

You discard the grocery bags you were holding atop the kitchen counter of Keiji's apartment. Over a phone call earlier, he mentioned that he would be going home late and you thought it would be nice to cook him some dinner that he can enjoy when he returns. You thought about what you were going to prepare and decided that a good bowl of katsudon would lift his spirits after a tiring day at work.

When Keiji arrives home, he catches a whiff of something good coming from the kitchen. It wasn't unusual for him to return and see you at his place - in fact, he'd love it more if he could always come home to you. When he spots you working your magic in the kitchen, he feels himself fall for you over again. He couldn't help himself as he was now walking over to you and wraps his arms around you. You jump at the sudden contact, but relax when you feel him hum, "You're a wonderful sight to come home too. Move in with me already, please."  

KITA SHINSUKE: The moment you walked into his life, it's like a garden of flowers bloomed inside his heart. He discovers that there's a certain beauty in the different kinds of flora, especially with how they each carry a special meaning. And since falling in love with you, he can't help but have his thoughts drift to you when he's passing by a flower shop. He can't stop the way his feet carry him inside, allowing him to browse and leaving with a bouquet in hand. It doesn't matter whether you're celebrating an anniversary or not -- he'll manage to have you fall head over heels for him again when he surprises you with flowers. 

Like any other day, you found Shinsuke waiting for you at the lobby of your office building. He was seating with his legs crossed, his eyes focused on the video that was playing on his phone. Your heart soars with how he looked exceptionally handsome tonight and you find yourself wondering how lucky you were to be with him.

He notices you from afar and waves toward your way, standing and waiting for you to come to his open arms. You smile and almost run to him, falling to his embrace and immediately getting the comfort you've been craving since the morning. He gently kisses the top of your head and declares, "Good work today."

"Thank you, Shinsuke," you break away and return his loving gaze with one of yours. He turns his back for a moment, and when he faces you once more, you see a bouquet of beautiful flowers in his hands. You take them in your hands, feeling your heart beating fast, "Oh, babe. You didn't have to."

"I know, but I want to. They're gerberas, and do you know what they mean?" When you shake your head to say no, he chuckles and brings one hand to cup your cheek as he says his next words. "Beauty. And loyal love. So you know I'll always be here waiting for you."

[nalledimessi]

Chapter fourteen: Reunion

After dealing with my writers block and some sad days I finally was able to finish the chapter that you’re about to read. I hope you like and enjoy it, because we’re only one chapter left and this story would reach his end or it’s just the beginning (?)

Well anyway, I want to give special thanks for all the persons that request to be tag on this story, without you this couldn’t have been possible, but they’re 2 persons that probably deserve an extra thanks. Annie @imgoingtofreakoutnow you give me that push and confidence to publish this story and without that push I wouldn’t have go outside my shell and thanks to Alina @jumpingmanatee you were always there to give me that extra push that I need to continue!

Please don’t forget to love, comment and reblog, so someone else would be able to read it! Thanks to you this story was possible.

· Warnings: A very loooong chapter, cursing words, angst and threats.

· Tag´s list: @valsworldofcreativity @avala-moon @r13mar @drwho-ess @mizelophsun11 @helenasingers @janonymus0 @jayyeahthatsme @jumpingmanatee

If you haven’t read the previous chapters click below!

< Chapter thirteen: Promises.

He walk back to his car, his right hand over the top tapping it with his fingers while his left hand finding his way to his trousers’ pocket. Blinking a few times, breathing deeply. He knows he’s running out of time and out of medical centers since he arrived to Lebanon, Kansas and still no single clue of your whereabouts.

"Where are you my love?” he voice out.

His mind fill with thoughts of yourself and his unborn child until his sideway glance shift complete to a dark blonde hair man around 6’1” wearing a plaid shirt over a t-shirt with jeans and boots entering the previous medical center he exit a few moments back.

"Dean Winchester" he assert recognizing your older brother, a trace of hope in his voice. He start walking in order to comforting him but stop noticing the two men discussing not far away from him.

“We should get him now and then obligated him to take us to the child!” one of the men shout making Elijah concentrate on the conversation.

“He’s a Winchester, he would die before taking us to his family” he declare seriously “and the only way that we would get revenge it’s if we take the child away from them, no other way”

Elijah features changing to his vampire self, making him emit a low grow “I won’t allowed it” he whisper as a promise to himself, to you and to your child but before he could make any movement, Dean carrying a bag was walking in direction where the two vampires were waiting for him.

His phone start ringing making him throw the bag over the pilot’s window and answering while opening the car door “What?” he answer rudely.

“She is in labor Dean, you better get here now!” Sam voice could be hear even without using his hearing.

“Shit” he enter the car, starting the engine “I’m on my way” to then end the call and starting his way back to the bunker.

The words echoing in his head she is in labor, fear and happiness invade him making him forget from his surrenders until the start of a new engine take him back, watching Dean’s car been followed by the two vampires threatening taking his child away from him, from you, in an instant with the help of his speed, consequences be dammed, he start the engine of his car and start the chase of both cars.

His sight shifting between the road ahead and the rear mirror, focus on the car not far away from him, he accelerate an make a sharp turn to the left while making an U-turn to stop and be front to front with the car following him.

He open the door to exit the car while hiding his gun on his back, watching the car stop while two men get down “Damn” he cursed.

“I’m sorry guys, my car stop working all the sudden” pointing back to the impala “can you help me move it to the side?” he ask them walking in their direction, moving his hand to take his gun.

But before anyone made a move Elijah appear behind both of the vampires, a stake in each hand, the vampire on his right turn around just in time to see how the stake was press into his heart while the one on the left side oblivion to his presence until was too late, both of them falling to the ground.

He start to bottom his trench coat looking directly at the hunter in front of him “You must be Dean Winchester, I’m Elijah Mikaelson” looking down to the vampires “I would have like to meet you under different circumstances but I need you to take me to your sister, now” he demand.

Dean look shift between the dead vampires in the concrete and back to Elijah and immediately point his gun to him “I don’t fucking care who the hell are you, I would die before I take you with her” holding his stand.

“It seems been stubborn it’s a Winchester trait” he declared with a smile on his lips before appearing next to Dean to lower his gun with his hand over it “I don’t mean any harm for you or your family, all the contrary Mr. Winchester”

Dean step aside from him the fast he could pointing his gun again “You see, I don’t trust vampires. Which means I don’t trust you”

“You can shoot, but those bullets won’t work on me” he assured him.

“But I’m sure they would hurt as hell” he add when his phone start to sound “Shit”

“Please,” Elijah offer raising his hand as surrender “answer the phone, it could be about Y/N”

Still with gun in one hand pointing to Elijah he was able to pick up his phone “What Sam?!”

“Where the hell are you? She refuse to start pushing until we’re with her!” he yell, panic and concern in his voice.

“She can be so damn stubborn sometimes” he reproach earning a chuckle from Elijah “I may have something better than us” he advised “I´m on my way” he clarified before handing the phone “we don’t have much time and probably she would kick my ass when she found out but I can live with it” saving his gun on the back “answer me this do you really love her, I’m not talking about a teenager love or anything like that but I mean real…?” he start rambling.

“Since the first moment I laid my eyes on her” he admit cutting his rambling “I would die for her and if she ask me to leave, I would do it. Even if that means not knowing my own child” he respond sincerely.

Dean nod at his answer believing him “Good-,” giving half turn in direction of the impala “we’ll have a talk later, but for now let’s go or she won’t give birth to the shrimp”

He nod to then vamp speed to his BMW and follow Dean’s impala, finally to meet you and realizing faith and hope was other trait of the Winchesters.

“Thank God, you’re finally here” Sam exclaim on the lower floor of the bunker “we better get going”

Going down the stairs as fast he could “I got some complications on my way back, but I think the right to be there it’s for Elijah” he said turning around to see no one behind him “where the hell he is?” he question.

“It seems you need to invite me in Mr. Winchester” he said calm on the doorway of the bunker, as close the invisible barrier allowed him to be.

Dean roll his eyes and went back to the doorway “How I do that? I just said Elijah, you can come in?” he question unaware of what to do exactly.

He smile and step inside the bunker, the invisible barrier gone “Where she is?”

“Down the hallway to the second hall to the right” Sam rush to explain on the lower floor, watching him nod to then disappear in that direction.

“That was fast” Dean mention once he was on the lower floor next to Sam.

“Y/N you would need to start pushing on the next contraction” Judy told you between your legs.

“Not until they’re here” you shout, your eyes close and breathing in and out, the way they teach you at the prenatal classes.

You feel a hand in yours, but not any hand, Elijah’s hand, you breathe deeply and his scent hit you, how cruel was your mind right now, you thought, if he only could be here “You’re so stubborn as the date I meet you”

You finally open your eyes at the hearing of his voice and saw him with his impeccable suit and coat “Elijah” he smile at the sound of his name on your lips.

Oh how he desire to kiss you right now but decide to lend to kiss your forehead instead “You need to start pushing, my love” resting his forehead in your temple.

Your eyes start to pour tears while your free hand settle on the back of his head, pulling him more to you “I’m glad you’re here, I’m sorry Elijah, I’m really sorry ” you reveal, tears falling your cheeks.

He deposit a tender kiss in your cheek “I’m here now, I’m here now”

“You need to push on the next contraction” Judy interrupt letting you both know.

And as indication of it, you bend due the contraction, tighten your hold on Elijah’s hand “Push, my love” Elijah encourage you, supporting your weight on his hand on your back.

“I see his head” Judy exclaim excited “Y/N keep pushing” Judy shout again.

As soon Judy came out of the room, she found the 3 concern and quite men´s waiting for any new, Castiel with his hands on the pockets of his trench coat, sight lose in thought and emotionless, Sam lending partially to the wall supporting himself with his legs, hands on the front intertwine and his sight settle on the floor, while Dean was on the middle side of them one of his hands on the middle of his chest while supporting his right arm and passing his hand to his mouth.

“Boys” she call them “meet your nephew Mirakel Robert” she said walking to them and then settle him on Dean’s arms.

“Hey shrimp” he barely could speak.

“How is our sister, Judy?” Sam rush to question her.

“She is resting, Elijah give her a little of his blood and would stay with her until she wakes up, while this baby to take his first bath” she turn to see Dean “do you think you can help?”

“Yeah” he answer without looking at her and starting to walk slowly to the bathroom.

Judy rest a hand on Sam reassuring him “She would be fine” before following Dean.

Your eyes blinking a few times while you sight focus on Elijah reading a grimoire, seated on the sofa next to your bed. “How are you feeling?” he question without looking at you while changing the page on the grimoire.

Getting up to a seated position, your back resting against the backboard of the bed “Tired but nothing hurts” you respond.

“Benefits of vampire blood” crossing his gaze with yours, “It’s true?” was the first question that he pronounce, setting in your lap the grimoire with Sam investigation “He’s my son?” the world rolling on his tongue softly and easy.

“Yes, we conceived it thanks to the spell” placing you hand over the grimoire to then watch him nod “but you already knew that” you exclaim shocked at the small but proud smile on his lips “how and why ask me if you already knew it?”

“I found your secret compartment with the pregnancy test, Freya confirmed it” he clarified for you “and because I needed to hear it from you” his right hand searching on the inside left pocket of his suit “I think this belong to your brother” extending in his hand the echography Dean lost.

“Keep it” you suggest “after all-,” you raised your sight to him “it end where it was supposed to be since the beginning”

“Very well,” saving it where was previously, above his heart “about our son, I would like to…”

“You won’t take him away from me” you shout before he could even complete the sentence.

“Do you truly believe that I pass this month’s trying to find you, just to take our child away from you?” he question you, standing at the side of the bed now.

“I don’t know what to believe or think anymore Elijah” you respond, avoiding eye contact with him “you will always choose your family avoid all”

He open his mouth and close it suddenly out of words, shocked that you would believe he would take him away from you, but she was right in one thing, he would always choose his family.

“I would never would take him away from you, he’s much safe with you here than on the compound” he remark taking a seat next to you on the bed to then place his hand over yours still lay atop the grimoire “and you’re certain right-,” he raised his gaze to see yours “I will always choose my family…”

A knock interrupt him before he could finish again, you took your hand below his, making him stand taking the grimoire and place it on the nightstand giving his back to Dean.

“Someone is been really fussy” he mention rocking the baby in his arms while walking to your side “Probably because he hear both of you fighting” he add looking between you and Elijah before settle him on your arms.

The whining stopping as soon he was cuddle at your side “spoiled brat” he exposed, kissing the baby forehead and yours before leaving the room.

You admired him for a few minutes to then lift your side to see the same similar face looking directly at him, “Elijah” you call him softly to get his attention, making him lift his sight to you “I want you to meet your son, Mirakel” you said while gently set him on his arms “beignet, this is your father, Elijah Mikaelson” caressing his soft check.

Elijah held him without saying a word, but wasn’t necessary at all, his expression saying more than enough for you, he reflects happiness and proud on the small smile on his lips, love and devotion on his now crystal eyes and fear and possible a little bit of panic, not at all common on him, while tighten his jaw.

“It’s a Norway name and its means…” you start to explain.

“Miracle” he finish for you, still focus on the now sound sleep baby, he lean to kiss his forehead “Mirakel, my son” he express proudly “in front of your mother, my soulmate and the love of my life, I vow to you that I will always protect you, that you two would be my priority from now on and as long as I live because both of you´re my family” he lift his sight to see you “and I vow to you my love, even if your answer it’s no, I would stand by your side, together or apart, always and forever.”

“No?” you ask confused.

“Y/N, would you marry me?” he finally ask, showing you between his fingers the ring you left behind the day you left “I can get you a new one if you may like” he propose nervous.

You denied with your head, overlapping his hand with yours and leaning to kiss him but stopping a few inches away from his lips “You better keep your word this time Mikaelson or I will kick your ass” you teased him a bright smile on your face.

He laugh at your statement “I know you will, my love. I know you will” to then close the distance between you too and finally kiss you.

Chapter fifteen: Always & Forever.>