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d1xonss · 6 months

Note

so ours babys a lil insecure bc of reader and his lil age gap he vents it to rick a little and since shes such a social butterfly literally talking and befriending everyone he gets upset and starts to think lowly of himself like theres younger men men who arent busy leading the community so they can spend all their time and affection on her blah blah he gets these crazy thoughts and she comforts him eases all his worries ):

Forever

✧ Pairing : Daryl Dixon x Reader

✧ Era : Season 6

✧ Pronouns : she/her

✧ Genre : Angst/Fluff

✧ Word Count : 3.1k

AN ~ Aww sad:(( but we love Reader comforting Daryl, it's one of my favorite things to write. And an age gap too?? I love it. Hope you enjoy!

“You’re ridiculous.” Rick spoke with a scoff.

Daryl’s eyes narrowed slightly at the man, not necessarily because of what he had claimed, but because it almost seemed like he hadn’t listened to him at all.

He already felt a little ashamed going to his friend in the first place to talk about how he was feeling, something the man rarely ever did. But that alone showed how desperate he seemed to be for any kind of advice, willing to put himself out there to express what had been going through his mind recently in hopes of some sort of reassurance.

He didn’t really know what had been going on with him recently, but ever since the group had made it to Alexandria, his insecurities slowly began to eat him alive. He started to take note of his appearance a little more, now that they actually had mirrors in the houses provided for them, seeing for himself how much older and tired he really was. It shouldn’t have bugged him as much as it did, but yet, it seemed to be all he thought about. And that constant loop of thoughts only traveled to another, thinking about how much living on the road seemed to age him, while the woman he was madly in love with stayed so young and beautiful.

She was absolutely perfect, not a single flaw, while he on the other hand had countless ones that he couldn’t seem to just get over and ignore. But that wasn’t the only aspect about her that seemed to cloud over his mind. She was quite the extrovert, making friends everywhere she turned as she was constantly radiating such a good and friendly energy. It even drew him in towards her from the start, falling victim to her charming personality. Though it wasn’t her kindness that made him a little more self conscious than before; it was the fact that a few younger men had obviously taken a liking to her natural sweetness ever since they moved here.

Now he knew that she would never cheat on him, the thought never even crossed her mind, but that still didn’t stop his jealousy from bubbling over to a point of no return. Wanting to beat the shit out of any guy who looked at her for just a little too long. He wasn’t blind by any means, and some of them had a hard time hiding the sneaky glances they were taking at his woman whilst she was just in her own little world.

Though the longer he seemed to stew over it for the months and months they had lived there, it made him start to wonder if maybe she would be better off with someone else. Someone a bit younger, more energetic, more outgoing. Someone that matched her personality better than he did. It was no secret that they were polar opposites, but he always imagined that they completed each other in a way, not even thinking twice about it. However, now that he had all the time in the world to think, it slowly started to consume him, thinking more about how he didn’t deserve her at all. But hell, maybe no one deserved her.

The man then seemed to snap out of his thoughts, scoffing toward Rick who was looking at him with a small smile, “Man, m’ bein serious.” he grumbled.

“So am I.” Rick shrugged, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he tilted his head a bit at him, “I really don’t think you have anything to worry about man. You two are always attached at the hip, she loves you…I think you might just be in your own head about it.”

He sighed heavily as he thought to himself for another moment, his thumbnail in his mouth as he contemplated why he was confiding in Rick in the first place. At this point he had it in his head that the man was just telling him what he wanted to hear. “I dunno…” he eventually muttered in response.

Rick only shook his head, “You shouldn’t be so focused on this. You’ve always known how nice she is, everyone loves her-”

“Man, that ain’t the problem. I already told ya that.” Daryl interrupted with irritation in his voice.

“I know…I know.” he assured, “I guess I just don’t see the connection of how you came up with the idea that she suddenly deserves someone “better.”

The archer shook his head with a light scoff, “Seein her talkin with those guys…something kinda just clicked that she should be with someone more fit for her…” he trailed off for a moment, before pathetically shrugging his shoulders again, “I dunno.”

Rick honestly couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Although, he could, he knew that Daryl sometimes got like this, thinking he didn’t deserve the things that he was given. But he never thought he would be standing here listening to him speak about how you would be better off with someone else. Anyone who even caught a glimpse of the two of you could easily see how in love you were with each other. He swore the sight could potentially make someone sick.

The man then cleared his throat, “Well…if you want to know what I think, I say you should talk to her.”

“Talk to her?”

Rick couldn’t help but laugh at how baffled he looked at the suggestion, “Yeah, talk to her. Besides, I think she’ll have a better chance at reassuring you about this than I will, she seems more fit for the role.” he joked.

But Daryl on the other hand scoffed, not exactly loving the idea, “This shit’s already embarrassing, why would I wanna bring it up to her? Didn’t even really wanna bring it up to you.”

“Thanks.” Rick said dryly before stepping closer to slap a hand on the man’s shoulder, “But just trust me on this, alright? You need to tell her how you’ve been feeling. Because if I know you at all, I know you want to keep this bottled up. But that’ll just make it worse and you know it.”

He was right. As much as Daryl hated to acknowledge it, he knew deep down he was right.

But that didn’t stop him from wanting to put it off every chance he got, pushing it into the back of his mind as he always seemed to do in hopes that it would just go away. Though he knew it wouldn’t, he couldn’t bring himself to want to think about it right now.

He went home later that night utterly defeated and clueless on how to even approach the topic in the first place. When the time dreadfully came around, how would he even bring it up? He was never good with words, especially when it came to something about how he was feeling. It was all just stupid and complicated in his mind, not knowing how to actually piece together the things he wanted her to know. But he knew he had to try.

The front door opened and shut with a small creak as he entered the house, kicking his dirty boots off to the side before he softly called out your name. But all was quiet, not a single sound of your voice calling back to him, to which he only assumed you were still out somewhere in the community. It wasn’t often you stayed out this late, but he silently knew that if someone needed the extra help, you would do it in a heartbeat.

The older man sighed deeply to himself before trudging up the stairs, wanting to get out of the filthy clothes he was trapped in before settling for the night, waiting for you to come home. He couldn’t ever really fall asleep without you there. He didn’t know if it was because he would always worry too much if you weren’t right beside him, or if he just physically needed your touch to relax, but it had to be somewhere in that ballpark. Perhaps both…definitely both.

He entered your shared bedroom with a tired huff, beginning to undo the buttons on his vest before folding it sloppily and setting it off to the side on the dresser. His hands then moved to peel off his dirty shirt that stuck to every part of his tanned skin, raising it over his head before throwing it in the hamper across the room to be washed. He ran his hands through his hair to get it out of his face as he crossed the space to get himself another pair of pants to sleep in, when suddenly his movements stopped short.

The tall, full length mirror that sat off in the corner quickly caught his attention as he saw just a brief glimpse of his reflection dancing behind the glass. He blinked a few times as he knew he shouldn’t look too close, knowing it was only going to add fuel to the already ongoing fire. But a part of him couldn’t help it, seeing as it was too late now that he had taken notice of a few new flaws he hadn’t spotted before. It was like some kind of sinkhole that he couldn’t escape from, looking over the things he hated the most about himself over and over again.

He slowly stepped closer toward the object even though he knew he shouldn’t, seeing himself a little more up close as the moonlight poured through the window just above him to illuminate his figure. His eyes scanned everything he could make out in the slight darkness, seeing the wrinkles that were now more prominent on his forehead. Seeing the dark circles under his eyes from the exhaustion and stress that had been weighing on him constantly. And seeing the scars that littered over his entire body.

“Daryl?”

The man nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of your soft voice from behind him, spinning around to see you standing in the doorway. Your eyes widened a little in surprise. Never had you recalled a single time where you had been able to catch him off guard, accidently sneak up on him enough to make his heart skip. He had always been aware of his surroundings, the man had the instincts of a goddamn cat. So to say you were surprised when he hovered about five feet in the air at your presence, would be an understatement.

You raised an eyebrow at him in slight concern, “You okay?” you asked softly as you approached him with hesitance.

Daryl’s stomach had plummeted to his ass, a heat rising in his cheeks from embarrassment as you caught him staring down at himself for a bit longer than usual. He swallowed thickly as he saw you walking further into the room, nodding a bit quickly, “Yeah…m’ fine.”

Though the way he spoke was far from convincing, his voice coming out a bit higher than usual, and the reassuring smile he tried to send your way being a little too forced for you not to realize. Your eyes narrowed toward him in slight suspicion as you came to stand right in front of him, taking in his appearance. There was something that was clearly circling his mind, you had noticed for far longer than he thought you did. But you always knew when there was something off about him.

You gently reached out to grab one of his hands in your own, “Come on…don’t lie to me.”

He sighed softly, knowing that he should just bite the bullet and tell you, but he couldn’t bring himself to just yet. “Just…just had a rough day. That’s all.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about.” you said with a slight shake of your head, watching as he furrowed his brows a little in question. “You’ve been acting off for weeks now, you really didn’t think I was going to notice?”

His eyes widened. Shit.

A small smirk formed on your lips as you clearly saw that you had caught him in a little white lie. It was written all over his face. You squeezed his hand in reassurance, “I’m not upset…I just want you to talk to me.”

He knew he couldn’t avoid it forever, especially after Rick gave him that little wake up call earlier to just rip the bandage off. But he hoped he could put it off for at least a few more days, wanting a little more time to prepare the things he wanted to express to you honestly. Though he could tell just by the way you were looking up at him, that you wanted answers, and he couldn’t just ignore what was standing right before him.

He sighed softly as he looked at the ground for a moment, before slowly nodding his head, “Alright…” he started, not even knowing where to take this. “Look…maybe…maybe this ain’t workin.” he blurted without thinking.

Your eyes widened a little, “What?”

Daryl’s eyes then grew as well realizing just how bad that sounded, quickly shaking his head, ��No, no, I- I mean…that ain’t how I meant for it to sound at all.” he reassured, before taking another moment to collect his racing thoughts. “I’ve been…thinkin recently and…I ain’t gettin any younger. Hell, I feel like I aged five extra years just from bein out on the damn road for so long.”

You nodded along slowly, not really seeing where this was heading, “So?”

He sighed softly, “So…I’ve been thinkin bout how…maybe…ya deserve to be with someone a little more fit for ya. Someone younger than me…someone who can give ya what I can’t.” he spoke almost regrettably, like he dreaded even saying those words out loud in the first place.

The truth was, he never wanted to let you go, that was a knowing fact that didn’t need to be proved. But at the same time, he didn’t want to hold you back from a chance at a better life. One that you so clearly deserved.

But your expression seemed to soften drastically, now hearing his explanation out loud, it all seemed to click in your head. Why he had been acting off for the longest time, it was because he was just thinking too much about something that meant absolutely nothing. When you first noticed his odd behavior, you automatically assumed you had done something wrong without realizing. But now hearing it out loud, hearing how hurt he sounded, all you wanted to do was hold him and never let him go. Wanting to reassure him for the rest of your lives if you had to that he was truly the only man you would ever want.

A small huff passed through your lips, “Sweetie…that’s what this is about?”

Daryl shrugged a little in response, “Well…yeah. I’ve seen ya makin friends with a lot of the people round here…it just crossed my mind that…maybe-”

“Stop.” you said gently as you moved even closer to him, reaching up to give his arms a gentle squeeze, “Don’t say another word.”

His gaze softened as he stared down at you, regret filling him completely as he saw just how his words had affected you.

“I love you…so much.” you whispered as your gripped his arms a little tighter, “I’m not looking at anyone else…I don’t want anyone else. No one else on this whole damn planet would be a better fit for me than you. I don’t need some younger guy. I’m not even friends with them, they only come talk to me if they have a question about something. And most of them aren’t very bright.” you said bluntly, earning a small chuckle from him. “I just wish you had told me about this sooner.”

He bit his lip a bit shamefully, “I know…m’ sorry. I just thought…ya might be better off-”

“I won’t.” you insisted, “You’re all I will ever need…you hear me?”

A small smile grew on his face upon hearing that, knowing that you meant every word. Though there was still another thing hovering over his mind. “Even though m’ an old man?” he asked half heartedly, though a part of him was still serious.

You rolled your eyes a bit, “Just because you’re older than me doesn’t make you an old man.” you laughed softly, “But if that’s something you’re really worried about…I promise to stick around even when you’re eighty.” you winked.

His lip quirked up a bit in amusement as he reached out to place his hands on your hips, gently tugging you closer, “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” you nodded, “You won’t get rid of me that easily.”

You then felt his thumbs start to rub soothingly along your hip bones, still a little unsure if this was truly what you wanted. To be with someone like him. “Ya promise?” he eventually asked.

You tilted your head a bit at him, “Come on…what do I have to do to convince you that I want this forever?”

The man was silent for a long moment as he thought to himself, absentmindedly still running his thumbs along your hips as he stared down at you. The truth was he didn’t really need anymore convincing than what you had already told him. Just by the small bit of reassurance you provided, he felt as though he was lighter, a weight being lifted from his shoulders knowing you were his. But still, he couldn’t imagine a more perfect time to make it even more official.

“Marry me.”

Your eyes widened a little in surprise, not expecting him to be so blunt let alone say those words to you at all. He never really struck you as someone who would want to get married at a time like this, but it’s not like you minded. As long as you were with him, that’s all that truly mattered to you.

Only now it felt as if the wind was knocked out of you, hearing him utter those words so clearly as if he meant it with his entire being. You couldn’t help but laugh a bit nervously, “Don’t joke about that, cause you know I will.”

He smiled down at you, shaking his head softly, “M’ serious.” he assured, raising one of his hands to run his thumb along your cheek, “Marry me.”

A lump began to form in your throat as you felt yourself get a little more emotional seeing how real this was becoming. Seeing how serious he was. He really wanted this.

“Okay.” you whispered with a small nod of your head.

His smile only grew, “Okay?”

You nodded a bit more frantically as a large smile broke out onto your face, “Yes…yes I’ll marry you.”

He chuckled, pure relief and happiness filling him completely as he picked you up in his arms, spinning you around lightly as you squealed in surprise. Though he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to seal the deal as he gently set you back down on your feet, kissing you deeply as he felt you hum into his mouth. A part of him almost couldn’t believe that you had agreed, wanting to truly be with him forever. But then again, with the way you looked at him, with the way you said yes with little to no hesitation at all, he knew. You were his forever.

~ Thanks for reading!

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princessbrunette · 6 months

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thinking about being that one young mother that had a baby when she turned 20, and now walks around with the cutest toddler on her hip that looks just like her.

when it all went down you were isolated, abandoned by most of your friends and family. people talked about you, because that’s just how things were in the obx— word spreads and people judge. but never jj maybank, jj knew what it was like to be judged for his situation.

he’d always thought you were cute, and always defended you to those who had cruel words to say about your life, even thought he hadn’t really talked to you much since high school.

after the storm, he offers to do your groceries for you and deliver them. it was the least he could do, as everyone had taken a hit and you were already struggling. he was chatty, and to a girl who felt alone that was the best thing he could be. he’d swing by, carry all the bags up to the sixth floor of your apartment building when the elevator wasn’t working because no one around was paying generator money. your baby girl was always happy to see him, a giant toothless grin spreading on her face when he’d walk in, clumsily dropping whatever toy she was teething on and waving her fat fist in the air as greeting.

you’d smile from the sidelines as he’d gasp, elated each and every time — bending at the knees right infront of her. “there she is, the cutest toddler in the whole world. what we playing with today, huh? is that hello kitty? you know you’re just like your momma.”

he was charming, and you’d soften at the way he was with her. which is how you ended up looping him in to help you with just about anything else when he offered. complaining about car trouble? he’s telling you that he’ll take a look and fix things up for you. if he walks in and sees you struggling with some ikea furniture on the floor, best believe he’s staying an extra hour or so to set it up for you. he even uses his mastery in acting and manipulation for you on the landlord when the slight mould problem on the bathroom wall still hasn’t been fixed. it was nothing to him, he wanted to help. more so, wanted to be around you.

his favourite way to help you came later on in your ‘friendship’, on nights where your baby was allowed to stay with her dad. you’d always hated those nights, too used to her being around, too worried about her. it took you everything to not pick up your phone and text your babydaddy for the fifth time that evening just to check everything was okay. to stay occupied, you text jj — invite him over on a whim.

he turns up with a toolbox, thinking there’s something he needs to fix but instead finds you pacing your kitchen with a glass of red wine. jj being jj, knows just what to do upon hearing your predicament. you needs to relax, take your mind off things for a bit — which is how he ends up with his arms wrapped around your legs, with you naked and slightly tipsy sat on his face. after letting you grind your slippery cunt on his mouth he’s rolling you onto your back to finish the job, knowing you just need someone to take control to get you out your head.

“just gotta relax for me, mama. ‘think some you time is very much needed huh? want you to turn that brain off for once, okay. just… trust someone. let papa do the thinkin’, yeah?” he soothes you as he holds your thighs open, hole drooling and clenching around nothing.

“always look a—after me, jj.” you’re a little emotional, one mewl from crying but he understands. you must’ve had no idea how badly you needed this.

“i know. always will, uh— if you’ll let me.” he pulls his lips from you for a second to look up at you sincerely, backwards hat still shoved on his head.

“yeah.” you whisper and he grins, adjusting the cap in question before heading back down.

“well alright then. let’s get this pretty thing cummin’, how ‘bout that?”

#jj maybank prompt #has you saved in his phone as pretty mommy #and when he gets more comfy around you he greets you with ‘there’s my fav milf’

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lovelettersfromluna · 10 months

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Wither

Summary: “you made flowers grow in my lungs and although they are beautiful I can’t fucking breath”

an: this one hurt, had sad music on LOOP the entire time.

Warnings: MDNI!!, 18+, SMUT, angst, Ellie doesn’t know how to communicate, reader is oblivious, mentions of marijuana, making out, dry humping, Ellie yells at reader, this one is a lil short sorry, lmk if I missed anything!!

You can read part 1 here!

Ellie was never the biggest fan of parties.

It’s pretty ironic that you and her ended up in a friend group that thrived off of shit like that. You guys were always out doing something stupid, or crashing a party to bum some weed off of someone.

But no matter how much she disliked parties, she wouldn’t ever pass one up with you.

Being with you outweighed any and all cons that came with parties.

She remembers it vividly. It was late, and the party had gone from a house full of buzzing college students to just a few people with some soft music playing in the background. Some were outside on the front porch, or in the backyard, leaving the living room to you and Ellie.

You were laying on the couch, your head resting on the arm of the chair while Ellie was sitting, your legs splayed over her lap, hands massaging your calf gently as she babysat the blunt perched between her lips for far too long.

You whined softly, looking over at her with glazed over eyes, your hand lazily reaching for the blunt between her lips.

“C’mon…you’re gonna smoke it all…” you huffed out, sitting up and scooting closer to your friend, promptly tugging the stick from between her mouth. She smirked, watching you as you took a drag from the blunt before you blew the smoke into the air, a soft sigh leaving your lips as you moved to rest your head against Ellie’s shoulder.

“These parties suck…just wanna be home with you…” she knew you were pouting just by the way the words fell off of your lips, all whiny and slurred. She gave your thigh a squeeze, the weed in her system making her feel much bolder had she’d been sober.

“I told you we should’ve stayed home…you don’t listen” she sighed softly as she recalled the way you were practically begging her to come with you to the party, knowing you would’ve been whining to her to take you home, just like you were now.

You huffed softly in annoyance, turning your head so that your face was pressed against the crook of her neck, your warm breath fanning across her skin and making her shiver, her mind far too hazy, body far too sensitive.

“Wanna go upstairs?” You asked her softly, voice barely above a whisper.

Ellie’s body froze up a bit at that, your words sounding far too much like something else, something that she’d dreamt about since she was old enough to even know about that kind of shit.

It sounds like you’re asking her to go upstairs, and fuck you.

And she knows that’s not what you meant. She knows that you just have this…way of speaking. It’s soft, and sultry, and you always pair it with that fucking giggle that literally makes her palms sweat and her stomach ache with butterflies so intense, she feels she might throw up, and it charms every fucking person you meet the second they lay eyes on you, and hear that sweet, dulcet tone fall from your pretty lips.

Ellie wished on every star that night that you actually meant it, and you weren’t just asking her if she wanted to crash at the house since you two were too high to go home, and it was too cold outside.

She couldn’t speak, of course she couldn’t speak, not when you asked her like that, so sweetly it makes her feel like her heart will burst right then and there.

So she simply nodded, giving your waist a gentle tap to single that she was right there with you. You squealed, tugging your bottom lip between your teeth as you quickly got up off her lap, and began dragging her up the stairs to an empty room for the two of you.

See? Every memory she had of you was like this, her following behind you, so eager and docile to follow your every move, your every command. If you asked Ellie to jump of a fucking bridge, she’d do it in a heart beat, no questions asked.

Where you went, Ellie followed.

She let out a dreamy sigh as she let you drag her to the bedroom, watching as you pushed between different people, slipped into dark hallways, all so you could find a room for the two of you before time ran out.

Ellie recalls the little noise of triumph that you let out when you found an empty room, quickly tugging her in and locking the door behind the both of you before you were passing by her to get into the bed.

She watched you, green eyes almost looking black with how blown out her pupils were. You always told Ellie that she reminded you of a cat when her eyes got like that, like those pretty brown cats with the emerald eyes? She never understood it, thinking that if anything she could be compared to a skinny, scraggly cat with fleas or something.

But nonetheless, she watched you. Watched as you crawled onto the bed after kicking off your sneakers, your movements almost animated with how perfect they were, free of any flaws. She watched the way your denim jeans stretched over your ass, your t-shirt hanging down around your hips, giving her a glimpse of your tits from behind, making her swallow thickly.

Ellie would never admit it, because she didn’t want anyone to think she was a pervert, but the amount of times she ogled at you had gotten out of hand.

You let out a soft huff when you turned around, your back falling against the bed as you stared up at the ceiling.

“I’m….Jesus Christ I am so fucking high, El…” you sighed out softly, a soft, dreamy giggle leaving your lips as your hand came up to rest over your eyes.

Ellie stood there like a statue, unable to even breath properly as she watched your t shirt pool at your waist, your soft skin peeking out above the waistband of your loose jeans.

God, she always loved that part of you.

It looked so soft, so inviting, eager to be touched, massaged, kissed…

Her lips yearned for your skin on her.

You hummed softly, moving your hand from your eyes and propping yourself up on your elbows. You watched Ellie with raised eyebrows, a soft giggle leaving your lips.

“You comin? Or are you gonna stand there all night and make me cuddle myself…” you pouted out, clearly teasing the girl.

Her cheeks burned red at your words, and it was enough to break her out of her trance of staring down at your body. She chuckled softly, her tattooed hand coming to rub the back of her neck awkwardly before she nodded, slowly walking over to the bed and kicking off her own shoes.

“Sorry…weeds got me fucked up…” she mumbled out softly, which earned a giggle from you.

“Mm…mhm…whatever, c’mere” you hummed softly, gripping her arm and tugging her up to you.

She remembers the way you spread your legs for her, tugging her between them to settle there, your warm body so inviting. She was scared to crush you, or to make you uncomfortable, but you seemingly didn’t give her a choice when you pulled her down to pressed her body against yours.

Your hands went up to lace in her hair, massaging her scalp, twirling the strands between your fingers. She could feel the way your chest rose and fell with each slow, deep breath.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be as comfortable around anyone like I am with you…” your words were a bit muffled since her ear was pressed against your chest, but she could still make everything out, your words still making her heart flutter.

Ellie hated that you were able to do that. You could tell her the most minuscule thing, and it would make her swoon.

But those things had a tendency to get far too deep whenever you were high.

She didn’t answer, instead letting out a small hum of agreement, which made you giggle.

“M’serious…you’re like….my person” you explained, voice so soft and quiet.

You always spoke to Ellie like she was the only person in the world, like you and here were the last people on earth.

She let out a gentle sigh before she lifted her head from your chest, coming face to face with you. She loved when you were like this, you looked so fucking…soft, like you were the very thing that dreams were made of.

“You’re so pretty, El…” It was clear that Ellie wasn’t the talker of the two of you. She watched you as you brought your fingers up to brush Ellie’s hair from her face, gently combing through her fringe with the most gentle touch.

You bit back a smile, as if a sudden idea had popped into your head. It was something mischievous, something you knew you shouldn’t have been thinking of, Ellie knew that look like that back of her fucking hand.

Your fingers went down to trace her lips, the outline of them, the top, the bottom, your eyes glimmering with something that Ellie couldn’t quite make out. It was so dark in the room, the shitty bedside lamp making her angry that she couldn’t see you better.

“Would you kiss me if I asked you to?” Your words were above a whisper, eyes flickering a bit as you stared at her. She could practically see the stars twinkling in your pretty eyes, and you weren’t even nervous. You showed no signs of second guessing yourself or the question you asked her, so confident in what Ellie would respond with.

Ellie on the other hand? Felt her heart stop the second she heard you.

She’d laid in her bed so many times before, dreaming of what it would feel like to have your lips pressed on hers. Every time she kissed another girl, she imagined that it was you. It was shitty on her end, she knew that, but what was she supposed to do? She’d been in love with you since she was a fucking kid.

There was no way she couldn’t compare those girls to you.

And she knew this was a fleeting moment, because you were both high, and it was probably her one chance at feeling what your lips are like, even if it is just a stupid moment between two best friends.

She doesn’t hesitate in pushing her body further up yours, pressing her lips to yours.

Ellie can feel sparks. She can feel the world stop. The way your lips smile against hers, the way you’re fingers tangle up in her hair, it all feels like everything in the world stops, like there’s nothing, and no one that could ever ruin the moment.

It makes ellie feel like she’s the only girl in the world, and it only further proves to her that if she can’t have you, she’d rather die alone.

She can’t help herself from deepening the kiss, pushing her tongue into your mouth. You started to moan, and whine against her, and Ellie was sure she’d never heard anything so fucking perfect. She’s sure that when she dies, she’ll hear the exact same thing.

Her knee was wedged between her legs, and her core was pressed against your thigh. She started grinding down into you, and it earns the sweetest fucking moan from you, and it made Ellie’s head fucking spin.

She could feel her core weeping onto the fabric of her underwear, and if she weren’t so high she’d be nervous that it was seeping out onto her jeans. But she can’t bring herself to care, not when your hips are jerking up and meeting her movements.

“Ellie..” you moaned out softly, and it made Ellie groan into your mouth.

“Fuck…you sound so good…” she sighed against your lips.

You were just as eager as she was.

Her hands came down to your waist, slipping under your shirt and massaging your soft skin while her tongue worked on yours.

She could taste you, all of you. The sound of your tongues lapping together made her want to do more, go further, make you feel better.

But she could feel your tongue slow down, and the sound of your giggle brought her back to earth.

“Slow down, cowgirl…don’t start something you can’t finish…” you sighed out breathlessly as you broke the kiss, resting your forehead against hers as your hands continued toying with her hair.

This made Ellie frown, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion as she stared down at.

“What? But I…” she tried, unknowing of what she’d even say to try and get her lips back on yours.

“I know baby…but you’re…”

Ellie remembers the way your words died off, how far off your eyes looked, the sad little smile playing on your lips.

“If we’re doing this…I want it to be because you actually want me…not cause you’re high” you explained, brushing her fringe from her face as you gave her a half smile.

And Ellie almost keeled over and died right then and there.

Because ever since you two had gotten old enough, you had laid in bed and explained to Ellie time and time again, how you despised the people who got high and looked to you for sex.

And while that was far from what she was doing, it looked pretty bad on Ellie’s end, anyways.

“No! No God, I swear that’s not what I’m doing. I would never-“ Ellie was quickly cut off by you pressing your lips to hers, and it was pathetic, but the moan she let out when you did was pitiful, like she’d melted as soon as you gave in to her.

“I know that’s not what you’re doing…you could never hurt me that way….” You assured her.

She watched as you settled back into the pillows beneath you, a soft, dreamy smile splayed out on your lips as you stared up at, watching her as if she were the most precious thing to you.

“Just…want it to be special when we do it…that’s all” your words were above a whisperer, and it was one of the rare times that Ellie saw you like that. So shy, so quiet, as if you were keeping the greatest secret between you and her.

That was the second thing you’d promised to Ellie. First, it was the promise that you’d marry her, then it was that you’d promised to give yourself to her.

Ellie could practically feel the most stupid, goofiest smile spread across her lips when you said that, because unlike the first time this happened, she’s able to look into your eyes, and you weren’t falling asleep seconds after admitting it to her.

You giggled softly, giving her a nudge, forcing her to lay down next to you.

“Wipe that smirk off your face…c’mon…I’m tired” you hummed softly as you tugged the covers over both of your bodies and scooted closer to Ellie. You pushed her arms apart before promptly wrapping them around your body, and hooked your thigh across her hip, keeping you as close as possible.

You let out a soft sigh as you pressed your nose to Ellie’s neck before giving her skin a gentle kiss.

“Love you so much, El…always will…” you hummed softly against her.

And as always, you made Ellie’s heart swell. She waits until she hears your breathing even out, and she knows your asleep before she pressed a gentle kiss to your head.

Because despite the promises you’ve made, and the things you’ve said, Ellie has been in love with you for a long time, and she knows that you don’t know…

“I love you too…more than you’ll ever know..” She sighed softly before she closed her eyes, trying her best to get some sleep.

It was on that night, that Ellie knew you were it for her…

Ellie let out a sigh as she leaned over the open window of her apartment, looking out at the city, watching the people below.

She had a little white stick perched between her lips, cupping one of her hands around it as she lit the end of it before taking a deep drag and blowing it out.

Ellie didn’t always smoke, it was a habit she’d picked up recently.

Her lungs were fucked anyways, no point in trying to save them now.

She coughed, her lungs rattling. It was such an ugly sound, and it made Ellie frown every single time it came out of her body. She had bags under her eyes, her lips were chapped and she looked all around like she’d been through hell within the last year.

You. You were her hell.

And it made it so much worse, because as much as Ellie’s body and soul yearned for you, wanting nothing more than to just talk to you, to just be with you…

She couldn’t.

Because Ellie was avoiding you.

She felt her phone buzz in her pocket. She sighed, reaching behind her and grabbing it. A low groan left her lips when her eyes settled on the name at the bottom of her screen.

It was you.

Hey El, are you okay? Haven’t heard from you in a while

Miss you :’)

The texts make a shiver run down Ellie’s spine, because she can practically hear your voice when she reads them. It’s laced with that soft, pouty little voice that you do whenever you miss her, whenever you’ve gone too long without hearing from her.

It’s the same tone that’s written in every single one of your texts that she’d ignored since she received your wedding invitation.

There was a string of them in your messages with Ellie, all from your end. They start out innocent, making it clear that you were absolutely clueless to the amount of pain and suffering that Ellie had been through from the moment she got the letter in the mail.

And as Ellie continued ignoring you, the texts became more frequent, turning into you asking her if she got the letter, and if she wanted to come with you to try on wedding dresses, to you begging her to respond to you.

It killed Ellie every single time a text from you came through.

She ignored it all. Texts, calls, she was sure you’d even reached out to her father to try and get to her, which she made sure to tell Joel to not tell you about her condition under any circumstances.

Ellie groaned, shoving her phone into her back pocket as she took another drag of her cigarette, letting the thick smoke fill up her sore lungs, burning her up from the inside.

Maybe she picked it up because the pain from the smoke distracted her from the pain that the flowers brought. The cigarettes made sense to her, it was a little stick filled with chemicals and bad shit that she really shouldn’t have been smoking.

The disease however, didn’t make any sense to her.

Ellie hated things that she couldn’t understand.

She let out a sigh, taking one more long drag before she put the cigarette out in her ashtray, no point in babysitting the thing for any longer.

The only real escape from all this nonsense that Ellie had, was sleep. With sleep, came an avoidance of the world, and what it was that was going on with her life.

With sleep, came dreams, and with dreams….

Came you.

Ellie dreams were the only place where she could have you. It was the only place that she could live in a world where you wanted her back, where she didn’t have to live with sore lungs and a trash bin filled with wilted flowers.

Ellie’s dreams were the only thing she looked forward these days.

She was going to go to bed, so she could enter a world where none of this had happened.

A world where you, were hers.

Soon enough, Ellie was in bed, wrapped up in her warm sheets, staring up at her ceiling as she waited for her eyes to grow heavy.

But her phone buzzing stopped that from even starting to happen.

She groaned, turning over and grabbing her phone, expecting it to be something stupid like a spam text.

But it wasn’t. It was you.

Again.

And the text that she read over made Ellie’s eyes widen in her skull.

Can I come over? I feel like you’re mad at me or something

The words ‘can I come over’ in your terms meant that you were most definitely coming over whether Ellie said it was okay or not, so she began to panic.

She quickly opened the message and began to text you back.

You can’t come over. I have a cold

Not mad at you

It doesn’t take more than a few seconds for another message from you to come in.

Oh no!!

Should’ve said something. I could’ve taken care of you :(

Always so fucking selfless.

Your texts make Ellie’s heart tug, and she can practically feel another coughing fit coming on, a plethora of petals threatening to spill out and remind her of what she can’t have.

Another text comes in

Are you home? Can I call you?

Ellie knows she can’t run away from this one, not when she’s already responded, and she’s already knee deep into a conversation with you.

So she doesn’t respond, instead she presses your contact, and then presses the call button. She presses the phone to hear ear as she waits for you to answer.

And it doesn’t even ring two times before you’re answering. Ellie can almost see the way you eagerly press the green answer button on your phone, pressing the phone to your cheek.

“Hey…” Ellie rasps out, her voice hoarse from all the coughing she’d done. She barely recognizes the sound of her own voice.

“Ellie…” you sigh out her name, like it was the most reliving thing to hear the girls voice in so long.

The sound of her name rolling of your tongue makes Ellie smile like a stupid teenager talking to their crush for the first time.

“Hey bug…” Ellie sighed out softly, which earns the sweetest giggle from your end, the sound like music to Ellie’s years.

“Where have you been El…” you don’t waste time in getting to the nitty gritty, your voice dropping a bit, and Ellie knows you’re pouting wherever you are.

And maybe that’s what makes Ellie’s heart wither, because you sound so fucking devastated with the sudden disappearance of her, like you’re the one that’s been suffering, and not her. It makes Ellie feel like she’s ripped everything away everything that you’ve ever known and ever loved.

It sounds like you’re the one who’s suffering from an unrequited love.

“I um…been busy…sorry” it’s a sorry excuse that mumbles past her lips, and Ellie swears she can hear a gentle sniffle from your end of the phone.

“You haven’t even…you haven’t said anything about the wedding…are you even-“ you sob, and Ellie knows your fucking crying.

If it was on any other day, she would’ve cried with you. Her chin would’ve started wobbling, and her eyes would’ve welled up with tears and she would’ve sobbed over the phone with you, breaking down and telling you everything that she’s been through, that she loves you and she’s suffering without you.

But it isn’t just any other day…

And there’s something about you mentioning the wedding, that sets Ellie off.

“Im not coming to your wedding” she deadpans, the brunette filled with an overwhelming sense of anger at the mention of the ceremony.

“What, I….you’re not?” You whimper out softly.

But the sound doesn’t bring Ellie back to earth. If anything, it prompts her to go further.

“Other people have lives, okay? We can’t just all live in a fantasy world of weddings like you. I have shit to do, and I would’ve hoped that my lack of communication would’ve given you a clue, but clearly you’re too fucking dense to catch onto anything” she spits out.

Her words are hateful, and they fall from her tongue like venom dripping through the phone lines, burning you from the other end.

You simply whimper in response, your sniffles becoming more frequent, and Ellie knows she’s done it.

She’s made you fucking cry.

“Lose my fucking number, alright?” She spits out before she hangs up the phone, not leaving you any opportunity to respond, to fight back and question where the outburst came from.

Ellie knows where it came from. The sadness and sorrow that she’s held in her heart for so long was beginning to turn into anger, it was burning her, turning her into someone she never wanted to become, not with you.

She let it take over her, swallowing her up and spitting her out to become someone that was filled with hate, resentment towards you and your stupid fucking finance that wasn’t her.

She hated you for something you couldn’t control.

When she tosses her phone to the side, she begins coughing. It’s similar to the coughing fit she had the night she received your invitation, however it’s different. It’s dry, and it burns and it makes her eyes water, the tears she felt prickling at the back of her throat when she was screaming at you finally coming out.

And as she hunches over in her bed, gasping for air, fighting against the wicked cough that had plagued her for so many days and so many nights, the petals begin to come up.

When she finally comes to, and she looks down at the mess of petals on her bed, between her legs, she sees something she hasn’t seen throughout the entire duration of her illness.

The petals that came up, were different.

They were withered, wilted.

Ellie’s flowers, were beginning to die.

#ellie williams #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x you #ellie tlou #ellie x y/n #ellie the last of us #ellie x you

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milliesfishes · 3 months

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⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚𝓫𝓲𝓵𝓵𝔂 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓬𝓸𝓻𝔂𝓸 𝓸𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓲𝓻 𝓰𝓲𝓻𝓵’𝓼 𝓫𝓲𝓻𝓽𝓱𝓭𝓪𝔂˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

According to Billy, you should be celebrated every day, but on your birthday he made it extra special.

The influx of love you received from him daily was already wonderful, but he was absolutely devoted on the day you were born.

On the first birthday since the two of you got together, he woke you up with gentle kisses, his stubble scratching slightly on your skin, and you felt his fingers running through your hair before you opened your eyes.

When you did, he was smiling brightly, face hazy with what could only be described as pure love. “There she is. Happy birthday, m’ love.” He leaned down and kissed you softly.

You smiled, reaching for him. Billy let himself be pulled down into you, sliding his arms under your body and tucking you so your head was under your chin. “Shouldn’t you be at work already?”

“Nah, took the day off,” he murmured, kissing your hair. “Wanna spend it with m’ girl. ‘S the best day ‘f the year after all.”

Giggling in delight, you snuggled into him although it was nearly impossible to get any closer. He chuckled at your excitement, smoothing your hair. “Watcha wanna do today? Nothin’s off the table, sweetheart. We can cuddle in bed all day if that’s what m’ baby wants.”

“Wanna cuddle for awhile,” you said, and he grinned, pressing a smattering of kisses to your cheeks. “I don’t care what we do as long as I’m with you.”

Billy took your face in his hands, kissing your nose and then your lips. “My baby,” he cooed, swaddling you back up in his arms. “Gonna give ya so much lovin’ today.”

And he absolutely did. After a long stretch of cuddles, Billy got up to make you breakfast. But you didn’t want to let go of him, intent on spending the little time you had with him on him.

So he found himself stirring the eggs on the stove one handed with you wrapped around him, perched on his hip like a baby. He kept one hand on your back to steady you the whole time. It was impressive the way he kept hold of you. Billy wasn’t about to drop you for anything.

He put the eggs on one plate because he knew you’d be sitting in his lap, and of course he wasn’t about to deny you that on your day.

You get dressed after breakfast and Billy took you to your favorite spot by the river, letting you relax against his chest and tucking wildflowers haphazardly into your hair like a birthday crown.

It was so rare that the two of you got to just rest like this, and be with each other without some other circumstance making things difficult. You cherished every second with him you were gifted.

As the sun was setting, Billy shifted unassumingly. You didn’t think anything of it until you felt something cold against your collarbone. Looking down, you saw the prettiest silver necklace resting there. He was fastening the chain, rough fingers struggling with the little clasp. Once he finished, he pulled your hair out of the loop, kissing your temple.

You touched the charm, a little heart, and turned in his arms. “It’s beautiful Billy, thank you.”

His grin broadened when he saw your happy smile. “Happy birthday, sweet girl.”

Reaching over, you gently removed his hat, searching his eyes as you leaned in for a gentle kiss, his nose smushed into your cheek. “I love you,” you murmured against his lips. “I love you, I don’t deserve you.”

“You’re my baby,” he pulled back for a second, his hand on your cheek. “Ya deserve the world.”

It was no secret that Coriolanus spoiled you beyond belief.

You were shocked and flattered by his generosity, by how much he cared that you had pretty things. You, his darling, his love. He wanted you to have everything.

So when your birthday came around, you were treated as a goddess.

Waking up, you were surprised to find his warm body still in bed, holding you nice and close just how you’d fallen asleep.

You sit up and look at him incredulously as he opens his eyes. “I thought you’d be at work.”

“I’m the President, darling,” he murmured, voice thick with sleep. “I can take a day off to celebrate your birthday with you.”

That made you smile. You smoothed back his messy blond hair, curly in its un-gelled state. “You already give me so much. What more could you possibly do for a day like this?”

He leaned in and kissed you softly, his fingers on your chin. When he pulled back, he grinned lazily. “So much, darling. So much more.”

Sitting up, he nodded lazily at the walk-in closet. “Take a look.”

Confused, you stood and threw back the covers, knowing he was getting a nice view of your backside covered by your pretty little nightdress.

When you opened the door you saw the prettiest red dress hanging there casually. Touching the fabric, you gasped, looking back at him. “Oh, Coryo!”

Coriolanus was already out of bed, shamelessly shirtless, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing a kiss to your hair. “Do you like it?”

“I love it,” you turned around and kissed him fully, your fingers on his cheeks. He smiled, smoothing your hair back.

“Why don’t you put that on-“ he nodded at the dress. “And come down for breakfast? I have a few things in store for the day.”

Smiling curiously, you tilted your head. “What does that mean?”

He merely patted your hip and walked away, presumably to his own bedroom to get dressed.

Arriving downstairs to breakfast, you found your plate of fruit, but no Coriolanus. There was a note next to your setting.

Darling,

You’ve got a few places to go today after you finish your breakfast. Our driver will take you, and I’ll see you shortly.

Love,

Coryo

Pressing the note to your chest, you sighed happily. You should have known he’d go overboard for your birthday; he always did when he felt like there was a reason to celebrate you, which in his opinion was fairly often.

The first place ended up being the high end salon near your home. The manicurist said she already knew what you were going to get, and when you saw that first swipe of red paint, you smiled. That was Coriolanus, through and through.

Afterward you were ushered to a jewelry store. Then a boutique. And then you were getting your hair done, sleek and shiny. At each place the employees had a set of things or instructions, all of which served to make you feel more beautiful.

The jewelry store presented you with a paid for set of diamonds. The boutique did the same with yet another red dress, and a set of crimson lingerie that made you blush when you looked into the box.

At the end of the day, you were dripping in luxury, feeling as beautiful as you ever had. It was so like him to do this- to want to make you feel lovely on your special day.

The driver took you to a restaurant you’d only been to once before, a nice one. He helped you out of the car, and you went inside, only a little surprised when you saw Coriolanus sitting at a table in the middle of a very empty restraunt.

“Darling,” he greeted, standing up and taking your hands. He leaned in and kissed you gently. “You’re beautiful. Let me see.”

He held up your hands so he could see your nails, looking pleased. Then he spun you once so he could see the whole dress, in its full glory. “Gorgeous. Absolutely stunning.”

“Thank you for doing all this for me,” you said shyly, holding him by the lapels of his suit jacket.

“For my sweetheart? Anything,” he affirmed, leading you to sit.

It was a lovely dinner. Not only was the food excellent, but Coriolanus was so doting and adoring toward you. Your heart fluttered the whole night, relishing in the way he looked at you.

When the check was paid, he stood, offering you a hand and leading you out to the car on his arm.

Getting in after you, he slid his arm around your waist and pulled you close, kissing you hungrily. “Happy birthday, my love.”

You sighed into the kiss, melting in his arms as his lips glided tantalizingly against yours. He pulled back for a moment, looking down at your legs. “There’s one thing I forgot to check.”

One of Coriolanus’ big hands slid up the slit of your skirt and dragged it up to rest against your belly, revealing the deep red panties you were wearing. He smirked, satisfied. “Good.”

Your dress looked prettier as it was falling off you and pooling around your feet. He hoisted your knees to hook at his hips and laid you down on the bed, lavishing you in attention. Hot, slow kisses all down your body, between your legs, on your thighs…everywhere.

Coriolanus spoiled you, to be sure, but it wasn’t just in gifts.

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skellseerwriting · 1 month

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What is Love? (Baby Don’t Hurt Me)

Love Clueless!Morgie x GN!Reader Part 2/2

Thank you anon for the wonderful ask! I never would have come up with this on my own. Here’s part 2!

Part 1

Word Count: 1,834

Warnings: slight angst, happy ending, fluff, Morgie is happy, brief heart brokenness, physical affection, Morgie learns what love is

Summary: You decide to teach Morgie the five love languages. Unfortunately for the both of you, you are quickly falling in love. You, however, don’t think he knows what that means

Part 1: Quality time

After you had named off each love language, you needed to decide which one you wanted to start with.

Physical touch? Your face felt a little warm at the thought. Too soon for that.

Gift giving maybe? Probably too difficult right now since you barely knew Morgie. So maybe you could get to know him through quality time!

You did a little, internal, happy dance at the quick thinking. It was perfect. All it really was is hanging out and getting to know each other better. You could do that.

So after explaining that to Morgie, he simply stated “How do we do that? Just talk about things we like?”

“Yes, exactly. You’re getting the hang of it.” You gleamed. “Many friends become friends through shared interests; things they both like.”

“Oh.” Was all he said, then added. “Do we have to like the same things?”

You try not to let out a snort, and spectacularly fail.

“Of course not. That’d be boring!” He looked confused again.

“Okay, okay.” You said, prepared to explain things once again to him. “Imagine you walk into school, and everyone is wearing your clothes.” He frowns. “Now imagine instead of everyone going to class, they all ditch it just like you. They’re all hanging out in your usual spot.” His frown turned into a peeved expression.

“That’s annoying.”

“Exactly!” You tell him. “And when you go to lunch, everyone takes that favorite food of yours because they all like it, leaving none for you!”

He actually started growling at that, like a dog. You scooched back a little.

“They better not.” His lip curls up. “That chocolate tuna bread is mine.”

Your lips also curled up a bit, for an entirely different reason. This boy was so charming (not to be confused with the actual charming).

“See?” You pointed out. “That’s why it’s good that we all like different things. You’re learning already.” He nodded with a grin, finally understanding. Even though it was just one small step, it made you so happy that he seemed to be enjoying this.

You think you were going to really enjoy hanging out with him.

Part 2: Acts of Service

The next morning, when you told Morgie the next love language you’d be doing, he made a face.

“Service? Like helping out at an orphanage?” You suppressed a giggle.

“That is a form of service.” You told him, clasping your hands together with your pointer fingers sticking out. “However it’s not necessarily service service. It’s helping someone out, no matter how small. Picking up someone’s pen for them when they drop it, for example.”

“Or holding the door open, right?” He said with a happy look and something knowing in his eyes.

“Exactly! Good job” You praised, not entirely understanding his implication with that. “So, today, I want you to be on the look out to help anyone in need.” He stuck out his lower lip.

“I thought this was just going to be between you and me.” He pouted. You tried to ignore the little stutter in your heart from thinking about Morgie only wanting to spend time with you. That’s not what he means, you thought, so stop it.

You hide your thoughts with a smile.

“Most of it will be, but it’s not something that can be done a bunch in one sitting. Plus we have school, so you won’t see me a whole bunch.”

After a moment, he goes “Can we eat lunch together”? That threw you for a loop. Together?

“Erm, what about your friends, Morgie?” You ask uncertainly. His eyes widened.

“Oh, I guess I didn’t think about that.”

“It’s fine. You can meet me here after school.”

You didn’t end up waiting until after school.

Squealing, you open the door to let Morgie in.

“Did you see her face!”

“Yeah, that was priceless!” He jeered, walking in with squeaky footsteps. “I didn’t realize she didn’t hear me right behind her. When she turned around…” he let out a loud laugh, shaking his sopping wet hair like a dog. You brought your arms up to cover your face.

“Easy! Don’t get me wet too!”

He didn’t listen, going on with “When she dropped all her stuff, I didn’t even see the fountain right behind me. I think the universe is trying to get back at me for being good!”

He slipped of his shoes, reaching for the towel you handed him. Your dorm was a lot closer, so the moment he got pushed from surprise into the fountain, you went to help him.

“Or maybe it’s to even out all the good luck I’ve been having.” He added, closing one eye.

“What good luck?”

“Meeting you!” He answered cheerfully. You felt yourself flush at that. He didn’t mean it like that, you reminded yourself again.

“Don’t worry,” he cut through your thoughts. “I’m not going to let that stop me from acts of service.”

“Thank goodness.” You in a joking tone. “You’re getting really good at this, Morgie.” He perked up at the compliment.

You’re getting too good, you thought sorrowfully, hoping this all didn’t end too soon. You would absolutely hate that.

Part 3: Gift Giving

Smiling giddily to yourself, you held the gift in your hand as you approached Morgie’s dorm. Not wanting to put too much pressure for gift giving, you decided that you two should just give each other one gift. You weren’t too worried, thinking he might like whatever you get him. But simultaneously worried he wouldn’t like it enough from you. Still, you were quite confident that what you currently held was quite nice, so you tried not to think about it.

After a knock and being let in, you gave yourself a moment to look around the room to see how it was decorated. Silken scarves of greens and gold shimmered across the walls and even on the ceiling. A couple of books were set on a shelf, one of which was titled Different Dog Sounds. You smiled and moved on, seeing a clothes rack with clothing not unlike what he was currently wearing. What could Morgie say: He liked nice clothes.

He sat at the end of his bed, and so did you after a moment of hesitation. You cleared your throat, then held up your offering.

“This is my gift to you. I hope you like it.” As he eyed the gift, you looked at him nervously. It was a silky scarf of gold color with black lines waving through it. He already wore thin scarfs like this, but you were positive he didn’t have one like it. What if he didn’t like-

“I love it!” He beamed, picking it up gently.

“I- you do?”

“Yeah!” He told you. “Would you put it on me?”

That was an unexpected request, but you did it anyway. Picking it back up from his hands, you brought it around his neck. His eyes were on yours, and that was hard to ignore to focus on your task. Then, you realized you weren’t sure how he usually tied his. After looking at him with uncertainty, he recognized the problem and took your hands into his own. Your breath hitched at the feeling of his warm fingers guiding yours where to move the scarf, creating a loop and pulling the other end through.

His gaze never left yours; doing it all from muscle memory. It was near impossible to not let your hands freeze up until it was finished. Looking at you a moment longer than you thought made sense, he reached behind himself to grab what you could only assume to be your gift.

“I hope you like it.” He whispered, still looking at you. You broke away first, seeing what he held in his outstretched palm. It was a tiny little snake made out of clay, with a wiggly line body painted green. It wasn’t the most professionally made by any means. But upon recognizing he made this for you, you found its weight worth in gold.

“It beautiful.” You said softly, noticing its asymmetrical black dot eyes.

He moved to set it in your hand as you reached out to grab it, only for it to miss its destination and tumble off the bed and straight onto the floor.

“No!” You both cried, immediately sliding off the bed. Morgie held up the little thing. It was now broken into two pieces, right through the middle.

Seeing tears starting to form in his eyes, you grabbed the half with the head and said lightly “Hey, we can share it.”

He let out a little sniffle. “Really?”

“Yeah.” You nodded. “I get half and you get half.”

He smiled at that wistfully. “Like a friendship necklace.”

“Mhm,” you smiled back. “Just like a friendship necklace.”

A small part of your heart thought about maybe more than just friends, but you dismissed your feelings once again. Morgie looked at lower half of the clay snake in amazement, and you couldn’t help but silently wish he would look at you that way.

Part 4: Words of Affirmation

“So… does it involve speaking?”

“Yep! You use words.”

“What… kind of words?”

You gave him a loving look. You didn’t know what it was about him sometimes being a little slow, but it was incredibly endearing. When he didn’t get it, he would look at you with a question in his eyes; relying on you to help him. You shouldn’t have enjoyed it as much as you did.

“Anything that is uplifting really, with more of a focus on compliments.”

His eyes lit up. “Oh, like telling you you’re cute?”

You did a double take at that. Flames licked at your cheeks as air slowly compressed out of your lungs.

“W-well yes.” You stuttered, clearing your throat. “But that kind of comment is usually used by people who are dating, or want to date said person.”

Morgie sat on that for a second, while also sitting on your bed. His lips were pressed into his mouth, suddenly lost in thought. Finally, he looked at you again with a grin.

“Okay.” Was all he said.

What was that about? You tried not to dwell on it, or on the fact that your statement technically implied he wanted to date you when you knew it wasn’t true.

“I think you’re clothes look really nice.” You complimented Morgie, hoping to distract yourself from him by distracting yourself with him.

“Really?” He perked up like a dog. “Thanks! I really like all the little things you collect.” He looked at the aforementioned items as he said so.

“Thank you. It’s pretty effortless actually, I just keep the things people give me.” You waved him off, trying not to let every little compliment turn you into a mess. His eyes still scanned the shelves on the wall, looking for something.

“Where’s the-“ He cut himself off as he spotted it. On the nightstand, right next to where you lay your head at night, was the half snake. Your face went ablaze again as you resisted the urge to grab it and hide it; he already saw it.

“You keep it next to you?” He said in such a quiet, happy tone that your heart melted. All you could manage was a tiny nod. He gazed at you with a look you recognized in others, but you knew that it didn’t count with him; he still didn’t understand the feeling.

“So,” he began lightly. “Is your receiving love language gift giving?” You nod again at him.

“And quality time. I really enjoy that.”

“Yeah, I think I caught onto that. You know, since you enjoy hanging at with me so much.” Was that a flirtatious remark?

He smiled at you innocently.

“Well for you… I’m not entirely sure since we’re still only on number four.”

“I think I like receiving words of affirmation.” He told you.

“Really?”

“Yeah, whenever you tell me how good I’m doing.” he said, averting his gaze. “It feels like there are happy bugs in my stomach.”

You didn’t know what to make of that.

“Well, what can I say?” You said. “It’s my giving language. Acts of service too.”

He nodded. “I think that’s why I’ve been struggling recently with my friends. None of them really give me affirmation, except for Uliana. But it’s usually because she needs me to do something.”

“So you think that’s her giving language.” you asked.

“Yeah, and for receiving I think it’s the same, along with acts of service. To bad it tends to be forceful. I love doing it anyways though.”

You both sat in silence for a moment, before he picked back up again.

“Hook’s is gift giving. He’ll steal food for us; sometimes little trinkets or apparel. Like the scarf I’m wearing right now.” He looked a little happy as he recalled the memory. “He doesn’t prefer gifts for himself though, since he can steal what he wants. I think that’s why he likes to throw his arm over mine and vice versa; he can’t steal affection.” His little smile began to grow. “Hades and Mali prefer quality time. Silence with the people they care about; giving and receiving. Hades also appreciates it when I help him out with stuff.” He took a pause with a breath, then looked at you. “I know they’re my friends, but I love them like family. That’s what it is, right? Your family is the people closest to you; who mean the most to you.”

And what about me, you wanted to ask. What do I mean to you?

“Whereas romantic feelings-“ He paused, uncertainty written all over his face. He leaned several inches into your personal space. He glanced down for a moment before whispering, “they’re the one you- the one you care most f-“

You jumped away and off the bed. Immediately you regretted the look of pain he adorned. You caused that.

But no, it couldn’t be. You refused to believe it. He was just confused, you told yourself, he still didn’t understand; despite what he was just saying.

He called your name.

“Yes?”

“Did I do something wrong?” His voice broke.

“No, Morgie, you did nothing wrong, I promise, I-“ You had to get out of here. You needed to get out of here.

You did just that.

And just like that, you were both brokenhearted.

Part 5: Physical Touch

You hadn’t seen each other for a few days after you had left your dorm. Or rather, you were doing everything in your power to avoid Morgie.

It hurt. It really did. Whenever you saw Morgie he looked just as bad, if not worse. But it must have been for a different reason. There’s no way it was because he also had feelings for you. There’s no way.

It was all for the best, you told yourself. You did what you could, he seemed to understand love enough on his own now; just not enough to know that what he felt towards you was love. That you were sure of.

But no matter how much you told yourself that, it never made the pain go away. It began to fester.

It creeped into your mind like a infection, flaring up at the thought of him. And you really did like thinking of him. It brought daggers to your chest. And when you left him that night, it was a particularly cold, jagged knife that plunged into your heart. It twisted itself before being yanked out, leaving an open wound with hot liquid pouring out of your eyes.

You wanted it to stop. You wanted him. But you knew it was all just a fantasy from the moment he first stepped into your dorm room.

After school ended for the day, you went back to your room to cry again, wondering when the tears would finally dry out.

You heard a knock at the door.

You ignored it.

Whoever it was knocked again even louder. And so you decided that confrontation was the best exterminator. But you didn’t expect to see the one who was so insistent on seeing you.

It was Morgie.

You went to close the door, but he placed his arm in the way.

“What do you want, Morgie.” You sighed, tired. Tired of having to deal with all these feelings. If love was so great, then why did it cause so much pain?

“I-“ he started, trying to get the words out of his mouth. His face looked so open; so vulnerable. “Can we finish our lessons?” He ended on a high pitch.

“What?”

“Our lessons,” he stated plainly, albeit nervously. “We never got to our last one.”

Why was he doing this? Could it be possible that he actually-

“And?” You cut off your own thoughts. “You seem to have learned enough.”

He seemed frozen. “I just-“ he sighed. “Look, can we do our last language? Then you’ll never have to see me again.”

Never again? That hurt to hear. But that’s what you wanted anyways right?

“Alright.” You told him, opening your door farther. He immediately walked in and went to sit with his legs folded on your bed. Huh, you had forgotten how used to that you both were.

Fanning away the intruding thoughts of the fun times you had together before it all went to moot, you went to join him.

“So,” you said dryly, sitting on your knees in a lounging position. “How do you plan to go about this.”

He said nothing. Moving silently, he unwrapped something from around his neck. After gingerly pressing whatever it was to the corner of your eye, you caught the metallic look to it. The rich yellow color. The black waves that reminded you too much of the tears he was actively drying.

“Like this.” He said softly, moving to dry the other eye. When had he become so affectionate? You placed your hand on his wrist to stop him. He let you.

“Morgie, what is this?”

His face looked slightly flushed.

“Physical Touch.” Was all he said, carefully removing your halting hand. He didn’t let go, however, as he continued to dry your tears. Instead, he laced your fingers together. And while a teeny tiny part of you wanted to pull away, the rest of you decided to lean into him.

“This is nice.” You murmured, forgetting why you avoided him in the first place.

“Yeah?” He responded, replacing the scarf with his open palm. His fingers caressed your eyelids with a feather-like touch not unlike what he had done to your little knickknacks a week ago. How had you ever lived without feeling the touch of this beautiful boy?

After a little while, you both resorted to a cozy embrace; arms around each other.

“Morgie?” You mumbled into his shoulder.

“Yeah?” He mumbled back adjacently. You pulled back to look him the the eyes, closer than you had ever been. You decided to tell him the truth.

“I’m sorry I ran out. I’m sorry I hurt you. The reason I did that was because I fell in love with you, and I didn’t want to take advantage of you because I didn’t think you could feel the same.”

All he did was give you an aloof, silly little smile.

“That’s great,” he said, touching your foreheads together. “Because I love you too.”

“Really?”

He nodded. “Really.”

“Well,” you smiled toothily. “There’s one form of physical touch that’s common for people who feel that way.”

He smiled back, understanding you perfectly.

“Well, what are you waiting for?”

You didn’t wait another second.

#rise of red #descendants 4 #descendants x reader #descendants rise of red #gender neutral reader #morgie le fay #descendants morgie #morgie x reader #morgie x gn reader #my work

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lovings4turn · 7 months

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જ⁀➴ 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐅𝐎𝐎𝐋 . . . (𝐆. 𝐑.)

— two things are definite: you like george, and george likes you. unfortunately, you two seem to be the only ones who don't see it.

+ part of my 'be my valentine' mixtape series ! love this song and i was so excited to use it for a george fic, so i hope you enjoy <3

“oh mate, you’re joking.”

“shut up!” george huffed, running the palm of his hand down his face in exasperation. “it was not that bad.”

he could defend himself all he liked, because in spite of that, george knew it really was.

this was possibly the third time this month that george had fumbled his chance to ask you out, and alex was beginning to grow tired of his friend’s constant pining and lingering stares.

“here’s what you’re gonna do,” alex said, his voice growing more serious as he looked george dead in the eyes. “you’re gonna ring y/n, and you’re gonna tell her you forgot something at her place. a shirt, socks, anything.”

"but i haven't?"

"not the point," alex groaned. "you're gonna tell her that, so you have an excuse to turn up there. this is your chance. don't be a stupid. tell her you think she's cool, that you like her, something to charm her."

george still wasn't convinced. his brows were pinched together as he ran over alex's plan in his mind, able to find a thousand different ways it could go wrong for him.

"right. and what happens when she realises that i haven't actually left anything there, and i just look like a massive twat for showing up?"

alex wasn't sure that he could take any more.

"mate, you can't just sit around and wait for some sort of fairy tale ending to come out of nowhere for you. at some point, you're just going to have to confess to her."

though he was being assertive, alex was still trying to be supportive, laying a hand on george's shoulder and delivering a friendly pat of encouragement.

"i can promise you she's probably thinking the exact same thing right now, anyways."

george scoffed, his answer hanging in the air unspoken. as if.

unbeknownst to george, alex was a lot closer to the truth than even he may have realised.

the events of the afternoon were playing on a loop in your mind as you tried to dissect every last piece of your interaction with george, from how he'd greeted you - a brief side hug and a smile - to how he'd said goodbye - a weak effort to get you to stay and a silly, yet endearing, wave.

was this your life now? driving yourself mad over even the smallest little details, all because of some stupid feelings?

when you'd first started developing somewhat of a crush on the mercedes driver, you made a promise to yourself that it would never become a thing. and you had kept that promise for roughly four months, until you made a huge error: revealing your feelings to someone else.

ever since you had let it slip to a friend that you actually quite liked george in ways that far surpassed the platonic label, you'd been - for lack of a better phrase - absolutely fucked.

now you had people to fuel your delusions, try to convince you that george had to feel the same way, and no, of course he wasn't just being polite when he offered you his jacket, you fool. outside interference and reassurance should have made you more confident in your feelings, maybe even push you to confess, but instead they'd had the opposite effect.

the weight of the word 'hopeless' in hopeless romantic had really started to resonate with you. though you weren't allowed to dwell on your misfortunes for too long.

some may have chalked it up to fate, some may have attributed it to a divine power wanting to laugh at a poor mortal, but whatever the reason, your phone rang with an incoming call from george.

the stupid candid photo you’d taken as a contact picture flashed up on your screen, and the automatic smile that painted your lips made you want to yell in frustration.

"y/n, hi!"

pathetic was the perfect word to describe you, thanks to how utterly gone you were for george, as the mere sound of your name leaving his lips was enough to make your heart jump.

"sorry, know i only saw you a few hours ago, but i just remembered that i think i left one of my mercedes shirts at yours when i was there the other day."

you didn't even think twice about it, why would you? george had left countless items at your place in the past, and he would leave more in the future.

"no problem. y'can always come by and get it, i'll try and grab it for you."

george's chest ached at how ready to help you were.

"yeah? you're a lifesaver, y/n, really. i'll set off now, should be there in about fifteen minutes."

brief 'see you later's were exchanged, and the moment you set your phone down onto the coffee table, your hunt began.

you didn't recall seeing one of george's shirts anywhere around, but previous mishaps had enlightened you to the fact that things could turn up anywhere. you'd thought that the shoes buried right underneath your bed were odd, until a sock turned up in your bread bin a few weeks later.

nothing was off limits anymore.

yet, somehow, no matter where you looked, you couldn't find the fucking shirt. frustration slowly nibbled at your mind, the sound of a knock being the only thing to break you from your frantic search.

an annoyingly attractive george russell greeted you when you swung open the front door.

in all of the years he'd known you, george thought this was the most adorable you'd looked.

your hair was in disarray, the strands unkempt as though you'd been running your hands through it over and over again. your face shone a little, and you were clearly a little out of breath, if the small, panting gasps you took were anything to go by.

your apartment was a mess, and george quickly realised that you'd turned your entire place practically upside down to try and find a shirt that wasn't even there in the first place.

guilt began to bubble up in his throat, and george hoped that, after today, it would all be worth it. he only had one chance, and he wasn't going to fuck it up.

before he could allow doubt to creep into his mind and sow seeds of regret, george lifted a hand to cup your jaw. the feeling of your soft skin against his palm elicited a gasp to slip from his mouth. the parting of his lips provided you with the perfect opportunity to meld your lips together in a chaste, sweet kiss.

feelings went unspoken, for now. time would grant you the chance to properly word every last affection you harboured for one another at a later date.

besides, george was a firm believer that actions spoke louder than words, and this kiss was living proof.

george forced himself to pull back, his forehead resting against your own, and he believed that to die like this would be a blessed fate. because you were definitely going to kill him when you found out the truth.

"i lied, by the way. there was no shirt," he mumbled, blue eyes meeting yours with a wince.

"you fucking dick."

#.° ༘🗝️⋆₊ becca’s drabbles #𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 becca's 'be my valentine' special #george russell #george russell x reader #george russell x you #f1 x reader #formula one x reader #f1 x you #formula one x you

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lanabuckybarnes · 23 days

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𝗪𝗲’𝗹𝗹 𝗠𝗲𝗲𝘁 𝗔𝗴𝗮𝗶𝗻 | 𝗣𝗿𝗼𝗹𝗼𝗴𝘂𝗲

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: Bucky Barnes x Baker Reader (F) 𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: War, Feelings, Mentions of PTSD, Mentions of Death — Any more let me know 𝗪𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗖𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 2.1K 𝗔𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿 𝗡𝗼𝘁𝗲: So, another potential series hehe. I felt like my long term boy deserved his own lil thing and I’ve been thinking of an idea like this. I’m not sure when I’ll update this series, hopefully as much as I can but updates will be here and there. 𝗧𝗮𝗴𝘀: @boybandbaby, @chimchoom, @moon-light1928, @noellez-best-life23, @samodivaa, @kulteule, @zunigabarnes — Let me know if you would liked to be tagged!!!

The diner is filled to the gunnels when Bucky arrives, papers in one hand, his hat sat askew on his head. She never noticed him at first, too busy jotting down the order of an elderly couple in the farthest booth.

Poppy was gorgeous, eyelashes batting against soft blushed cheeks, teeth peeking out beneath painted pink lips. She laughs at the charming older gentlemen’s words, some joke about the beans giving him wind last time. His wife bats him with her handkerchief, tossing a glare his way with some choice words. She doesn’t mind though. With a final rundown on their order, she gives them a time estimate and turns, stopping dead in her tracks at the sight of him.

“B-Bucky,” she stutters, kitten heels clicking slowly as she inches closer to him. His attire has her almost fearful, like cornered prey staring at bared canines. She’s almost wary of passing him to get to the counter, her eyes darting over the glass door searching for a way out. A way out of what? Bucky suspected it was the conversation they were about to have.

“You like it, doll?” He smiles, his lips wobbling unnaturally. She wasn’t stupid and Bucky wore his heart on his sleeve, he was scared yet put on a brave face.

“You…you look nice.” She responds, brushing past him. Even the fabric against her bare arms is foreign; it’s scratchy and stiff, nothing like the man she knew.

“You don’t like it.”

She hums, stacking empty glasses onto a circular tray. Bucky steps over, helping her like he usually would.

“It’s not that I don't like it…” she looks him up and down again. He does look rather handsome but that green colour is ingrained in her mind. She watches men Bucky’s age and younger come and go wearing the same uniform. Not many of them were returning on those massive ships parked up by the dock. At the thought of Bucky being one of the unlucky ones, tears pool at her waterline. She turns before he has the chance to see her so upset.

“Poppy,” he coos, a large hand falling onto the small of her back. “You and I both know what this means, I don't want to spend the last night in have with you wallowing over things that won't happen.”

Poppy’s head shoots up, eyes fogged in disbelief “last night?”

He nods solemnly, “I ship for England tomorrow.” He says softly, capturing her hand in his.

“Please come with me tonight, I want to spend my evening with you.”

She’d overheard Bucky speaking with Steve about a science fair he was excited to attend. It wasn’t exactly her cup of tea but if it were what Bucky wanted she would do it. She would do anything for him.

After her shift Poppy spent a small amount of time freshening up, mind still unrested since Bucky’s words at the diner. Just a few hours ago, at the start of her shift, tomorrow felt like it was taking its time. Now she felt the hours ticking by almost like minutes. Soon the sun would set and rise again on a new day, one where she would say goodbye to her one and only. Perhaps for the last time.

Bucky picked her up from her front door, arm bent at the elbow so she could loop her own around it. Steve followed not far behind, an oversized tan coat protecting his slender frame from the chill of the evening air. Speaking of which, it was something she had neglected to remember when she opted for the short-sleeved dress. Bucky drops her arm for a second, fiddling with the gleaming belt and buttons before shrugging it off his shoulders.

His hands come around but she stops them before they drape the coat over his shoulders. The thought of the fabric around her is nauseating, she didn't want anything to do with the omen of death, yet Bucky’s fond smile and twinkling ocean eyes have her feeling guilty for ever rejecting such an offer.

“Thank you.” She says sincerely, nuzzling her nose into the coat.

“Pleasures all mine princess…besides, you look good in my clothes.”

The way Bucky’s eyes rove down her body sends shivers down her spine and a hot flush to her cheeks. He kisses her gently, thumb soothing over her cheek, when he parts he chuckles.

“Oops”

“What?” She sputters, mind still fuzzy from the kiss. He had a tendency to do that to her.

“I smudged your makeup,” his thumb and forefinger hook her chin, tilting her head into the dim street light. The apology thick on his tongue is dispelled by a huffing Steve, piercing blue eyes honing in on Bucky from over Poppy’s shoulder.

Right. Science fair first. Unfortunately.

The salted waves batter against the battleship grey ship, lathering its port side in white. Despite the rising sun glimmering atop the rolls of blue there is a chill to the air, one that bites at the creamy skin of Bucky’s nose tinting it a rouge shade.

“Sergeant Mayflower.” A voice calls out from the longboat, like a fog horn over the rumble of men murmuring their prayers and promises before setting foot onto the boat with seemingly no return. Bucky’s heart lurches every time the stout Captain barks out a name, his voice billowing out in a misty form.

He isn’t ready to go, no one is, as soon as their names are called they know where they’re off to, they know what they must do — it doesn’t matter what the papers say when every time a ship comes to collect it also drops off. Mountains of bodies wrapped only in sheets to protect the eyes of their innocent families, for the ones still alive? Death may have been an easier fate.

The men he’s exchanged a few words with today each hold that same dull look in their eyes, fear that’d been hidden deep below the surface to appear strong. Another name called, the crowd of men let out a small sigh but nothing could cover a woman’s wail from behind them.

“My boy!!” The greying lady sinks to the floor, clutching her equally as shaken husband. The young recruit, barely eighteen turns, huge helmet swivelling atop his head. He’s too small for war, he reminds Bucky of Steve. After much fuss from his mother, the boy's fate is sealed as he steps onto that ship, becoming lost in the sea of green and brown.

He feels sick, a lump of fear and sadness claws at his trachea as he thinks of who also stands not even a foot away; He clings to a small hand, squeezing it tightly. Poppy squeezes back.

“Sergeant Barnes.”

His world closes in on itself, his heart stopping its rapid pace in an instant.

“Bucky.” Poppy’s voice brings him back again. Her hands rest on either side of his cold cheeks, thumbs brushing at tears he didn’t know he’d spilt. He topples into her arms, pulling her up off her feet till he could feel the thump of her heart over his jacket. His name sounds over the crowd again but he is lost in the glossy sea of her eyes.

“I will come back.” He asserts, a warm promise against her full lips.

“I know.” She whispers, voice hoarse.

“I will.” He seals his words with his lip on hers, giving her love that his words could not portray. He would come back to her, he had to. He had no one else but her.

“Save a drink for me,” he forces a smile onto his face, cupping her cheek.

“Whiskey?” She laughs brokenly, using her free hand to swipe away her tears.

“Always.”

With a final squeeze, he lets go, sifting through the crowd of wide-eyed men. His foot sets onto the plank resting on the docks when he looks back — she’s there, putting on a brave face for him. He waves mouthing his love for her. She does the same before turning on her heel and leaving him.

The streets of New York blared with life, not unlike 70 years ago but the sounds had changed. Sirens wailed a few blocks away, plane engines whirred above the looming skyscrapers. All of it both comforted and overwhelmed Bucky.

He brushes past a mob of tourists taking photos of the iconic yellow taxis, his eyes flicker back down to his phone. The address Tony had sent him wasn’t too far now, a sharp left and a jog across the busy road, eyes peeled for cops trying to stop his jaywalking, and he was at a cute building.

The outside stood out, sage walls and frames bold against the bland shops surrounding it. A worn welcome mat rested beneath his feet, a remanence of little flowers on a hill in the corners. The door squeaked lightly on its hinges as he entered, and above him, a bell tinged alerting the minimal patrons of a new customer - not that they cared, their noses in books.

They were all elderly, or rather, his age. A man with thin grey hair and a hunched form tucked himself away into the farthest booth from the windows, a coffee steaming on the table and his weathered copy of ‘Jane Eyre’ clutched between bending fingers. Peculiar read for a man of his age but who was Bucky to judge when he’d also found himself enamoured by the text.

Two elderly ladies sit nearby too, crumbs of a sweet dessert on their plate and gossiping amongst themselves. He makes his way up to the counter, gazing freely at the freshly baked muffins and cookies. His mouth waters at the scent coming from the kitchen, mind fluttering back to the times he’d find himself baking goods with Poppy; flour in his hair and melted chocolate over his cheeks and around his lips.

Why was he thinking of her now? It had been a long time since Poppy had entered his mind. Before he has the time to wallow in the old fuzzy memories a voice calls out.

“Stark!” You bum the back door open, pale green boxes piled so high it was impossible to see making you rely on muscle memory only. The boxes hit the counter with a dull thud and you let out s breath of relief, the last thing you wanted to do was remake those cinnamon buns.

“You must be here for these.” You smile politely at the man in front of you but he stands rigid. You aren’t the best at reading people but you can tell he’s alarmed; brows arched high and eyes wide, his chest heaves with pants as though he’s run a marathon but he isn’t sweating. In fact, his skin is pale, ghost-like against the black leather coat he wears.

Whatever comes to Bucky’s mind as a response doesn’t make it out of his mouth. He’s shocked, feet bolted to the floor.

Poppy. His mind screams. The girl in front of him was Poppy. His eyes roamed over your face, from the twinkle in your eyes to the slope of your nose, the cut of your lips - you looked just like her, even down to the way you smiled. His fingers itched by his sides, nerve endings begging to reach out and caress your cheek like he’d wanted ever since becoming Bucky again.

For a long time after his therapy at Wakanda, everything in his body longed for the love of his life. He knew it was impossible, she was surely dead by now. Yet she—you stood there, staring at him with an awkward tug to your lips. Shit! He’d been staring too long.

“H-hello?” You begin to question yourself under his piercing eyes. Was he here for the order? Was he even here? Come to think of it were you even here? You did have that close shave with the car earlier on…

The man before you clears his throat, shock schooled from his face impressively - he now looks bored rather than terrified. “This is all his?”

“Yep,” you shake your head, smiling so wide your cheeks burn.

“Ok, good…well thank you.” He offers you an awkward smile of his own, his arms reaching out to pick up the boxes with ease. He turns without a word, using his fingers to open the door just enough to kick it open with his foot.

You watch him through the windows as he darts off in a blur of black. When your mind finally clears you still, cursing under your breath. He never paid.

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hellfireclubmember · 1 year

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No More Yarn

summary?: this is all fluff. like all the interactions r fluff and everyone is annoying about ur crush on steve. i'm bad at writing summaries, so basically, u crochet gifts for everyone and then realize ur gift to steve might b a mistake but it turns out to b perfect.

warning(s): not thoroughly checked. Swearing

paring(s): steve harrington x reader

w/c: 2.1k

The smell of your favorite pine-scented candle and Nancy’s nail polish intertwined and flowed together through the air in your room. Music played through the speakers of your sound system, though you weren't sure what it was since the night's music selection was up to Robin. She liked to use girls' night to introduce you and Nancy to new music, trying her darnedest to get you both out of the habit of listening to the same three albums on your rotation. She wanted these hangouts to be fun but enlightening.

"How are the gifts turning out?" Robin asked from her position on the floor. She was on her back with her hand on Nancy's lap.

Your eyes darted from the crochet hook in your hand to the ball of yarn in front of you. The ball of black yarn that had started out quite large was now a fourth of its original size. You were very proud of yourself for going through it so quickly. Of course, you struggled a little with the first few gifts. Your right hand cramped up horribly when you were crocheting Dustin's gloves. But after Max's scarf, it had become almost robotic. The repetitive motion was now muscle memory.

"I'm actually almost done." You looped yarn over the hook. "I'm working on Steve's, and his is the last one."

"You should take your time on that one." Nancy mumbled while brushing black glitter over Robin's nails. "Have to make Steve's extra special."

The looping came to a stop. "I don't know what you're talking about. Why would I make Steve's extra special? You guys are all my friends."

Robin and Nancy shared a knowing look. You never admitted it to them directly, but they knew your feelings for Steve were far more than platonic. Robin had known longer than anyone. She'd watched you pine over Steve since freshman year of high school. She never thought anything of it, everyone had some sort of infatuation with King Steve, so it was no surprise that even her best friend was not immune to the charm that is Steve 'the hair' Harrington. She figured the spell would wear off rather quickly. Adolescent crushes are nothing if not fleeting, and she was sort of right.

The intense crush was nothing but a soft, fizzy feeling in your chest by the end of junior year. You thought everything was over once Steve graduated, but then you spent the summer working at Scoops Ahoy with him and Robin. With every work shift, you could feel the familiar flutter of butterflies in your stomach. The small ruins of the short-lived crush were soon a flourishing oasis.

And anyone that saw you interact could immediately see how pathetically in love you were with Steve. Again, nothing had ever been admitted. As much as Robin, Nancy, Max, and Eleven pestered, and sometimes downright bullied you about it, you never broke.

Same goes for Steve, no matter the amount of annoying whining and questioning he received from the rest of the peanut gallery. If he did like you, that was his business, and he knew the second he opened his mouth to any of the many children he lugged around, it would be everybody's business. They're not ones to keep a secret for too long.

"Yeah, you're right. So what are you making your friend Steve anyway?" Nancy closed the bottle of polish and hopped onto your bed.

"A beanie." You lifted your almost finished work up for her to inspect. It was simple, just something to keep him warm since it had begun to get cold out already.

"You're giving Steve Harrington a hat?" Robin questioned, looking far too confused.

Yeah, I mean, it’s getting really cold, and I want you all to be warm." You began looping yarn into itself again. You didn’t see anything wrong with any of the gifts you were making for your friends.

"(y/n), come on. Steve wearing a hat?" Robin sat on your bed next to you. "When have you ever seen Steve doing anything to mess up his hair?" She was being realistic. Steve was always careful not to ruin his hair. Even at Scoops, he would get written up for not wearing his sailor’s hat all the time. He always said his charm heavily relied on his hair.

You paused. "Oh, no." You put your crochet hook down. "You're right; he's going to hate it. He's going to think I don't know him at all." You shook your head. "I should've just made him a scarf."

"He's not going to hate it." Nancy pinched Robin in the arm while you were looking down at your work. "He'll love whatever you give him, okay? Don't worry about it." She wasn't fully convinced. Nancy knew he wouldn't hate it; she knew Steve would love that you made him anything at all. She just wasn't too sure he would actually wear it.

It had been a few days since you finished everyone's gifts. You planned on handing them out the second you were finished, but you were too busy driving around town trying to find more yarn. You wanted to make Steve a scarf so you didn't have to give him the most unthoughtful gift ever, but the only yarn left at the craft store was some ugly puke green and neon orange. You were convinced Mrs. Thistle was behind the shortage of yarn. The last time you saw her, she was knitting a blanket on her porch, all smug.

You were all in Steve's backyard, sitting around the crackling bonfire. It was a nice night to be out, even with the low temperature. The sky was almost bright with all the glittering stars. Will was teaching El how to roast a marshmallow, and you were trying not to freak out before handing everyone their gifts.

"Alright, everyone! (y/n) has something for all of us." Nancy clapped her hands to get everyone's attention. She was already wearing the scarf you crocheted for her, and Robin the sweater. You gave Dustin his gloves when you picked him up. So, there were only a few left.

You stood up and started handing out the crocheted goods. "If you don't like what I give you, well, sucks. There is apparently no more yarn in Indiana."

"Woah, (y/n). Thanks. This is fucking awesome!" Eddie immediately put on his scarf. He posed and modeled it for everyone, earning some laughs and some boos from the crowd. Dustin went as far as to throw a marshmallow at him, which Eddie grabbed from the ground and tried to shove into the younger boy's mouth.

You sat down next to Steve, his gift sitting at the bottom of the gift bag, taunting you. "Is there anything in there for me?" He leaned over to look into the bag, and you quickly grabbed it.

"Of course." You looked around and locked eyes with Robin. She gave you an encouraging thumbs-up. She was feeling pretty guilty for making you so nervous in the first place. "I really hope you like it. You can tell me if you don't; I won't be upset at all. I mean it, not even a little. Whenever Mrs. Thistle stops monopolizing all the yarn, I can..."

“Hey,” Steve put his hand over yours and squeezed. “Of course, I’m gonna like it.” One look into those pretty brown eyes, and you're jelly in his perfect hands. It should make you feel pathetic, but it doesn’t. Nothing you felt for Steve could ever make you feel pathetic.

Without hesitation, you handed him the small, forest green gift bag. With bated breath, you watched as he opened it and reached inside for the plush hat. Robin and Nancy were both watching intently, ready to kill Steve at even the slightest hint of dissatisfaction. But there wasn't any. Once he had the beanie in his hands, he smiled.

“Are you kidding? This is perfect.” He put the hat on his beautiful hair, absolutely no second thoughts about messing it up. Steve was just happy to get anything you spent time making. He thought about you hunched over, working hard with balls of yarn all around you. There was no world out there where he cared more about his hair than he did about you.

“Is Steve Harrington wearing a hat on his beautiful locks? That can’t be Steve, right Dustin? Maybe a clone?” Eddie put his hand on the younger boy’s shoulder. “An enchanter from a different time disguised as our little Stevie.”

Mike shot up and stared at Steve. That dumb, confused look taking over him like he’s trying to solve one of life’s great mysteries.

“Shut up, freak.” A second marshmallow flung at Eddie’s head. This time he caught it midair, looking very impressed with his skills. He shucked into his mouth, and with the mouthful of sweetness said. “Yeah, that’s our Steve.”

Just like that, everyone was back to their own conversations. The whole interaction forgotten. Steve, however, turned his attention back to you, the beanie on his head.

“I love it. But you know that would make this even better?” He grabbed the hat off his head, once-neat hair, wild. The kind of wild that was still weirdly perfect, like each strand had been purposefully placed. Your hand itched with the need to run your fingers through it. “Maybe you could add your initials for me.”

Heat immediately traveled up your neck and rested on your face, burning at your cheeks. The chilly, Indiana air did nothing to help. “You… um… you want me to sew my initials on your hat?”

“Yeah.” He gave you that lopsided smile you liked. His eyes focused on you. At the rate things were going, it felt like your heart would just give out in front of all your friends. Steve had always been flirty with you. He was in love with you, and he knew that as a fact. So, he couldn’t help the pet names and the lingering touches. And you didn’t make it any easier, giving him gifts you spent time hand-making for him.

“Oh.” There was a beat of silence as you tried to steady your racing heart. “Right. Yeah, I can do that.” You turned your head forward. You caught sight of Robin and Nancy, both sitting on the edge of their seats. You rolled your eyes so hard your head hurt for a minute. You knew you had to prepare yourself for all the harassment you would have to endure later.

“And maybe when you do, I could wear it on our first date.” He leaned forward. He wanted to get a good look at your face. “How about ice skating?”

Before you could even think up a response, there was a loud bang. "Oh my god! Finally!" It was Robin. She had jumped up so quickly her chair fell out from under her and onto the tiled ground of Steve's backyard.

"Jeez, Robin. What the hell?" Max clutched her chest, her glare now fixed on the older girl.

"Steve finally made a move, everyone!" Robin yelled out to her audience. Her arms were outstretched as if she ran a marathon and came out in first place. She wore the smuggest look you had ever seen on anyone. "Our boy has done it. All it took was what? Like a year and a half?" She turned to Nancy for confirmation.

"Yeah, just about." The curly-haired girl nodded.

"Oh wow, Steve." Dustin stood up and took big steps around the bonfire to get to you both. He patted Steve on the back. "Congratulations. We were all trying to get you to at least admit your feelings to us."

"But you jumped a whole step and went for it." Lucas spoke up from his lounge chair. "Good on you, dude."

"Alright, all of you, and I mean this in the most disrespectful way possible, fuck off." Steve gave a glare to each of your friends, all personalized for the receiver.

"Wow, one confession and now he's all big and bad." Mike whispered to Dustin. They just shook their heads disappointedly. Everyone else tried their best to look like they weren't listening, like they were all extremely invested in their own conversations. But the constant side-eye gave them all away. For a group that kept the biggest secret from all of humanity, they sure sucked at eavesdropping.

The pretty boy sitting next to you didn't care if they were listening or not. He continued as if they weren't. There was no way he was going to let anything get in the way of finally having enough confidence to ask out the one girl he has had serious feelings for since Nance.

When he turned his head to look back at you, you leaned forward and gently kissed his lips. It was quick. So quick, he could almost swear he dreamt it up if it weren't for the wolf whistles and cheering heard all around him.

"I'd love to go anywhere with you, Stevie."

The cheering stopped. "Alright, we get it. You guys are just making me sick now." Eddie yelled out. Soon after, there were about five marshmallows in the air, all aimed at Eddie's head.

taglist: @slashersluttt @slurmp69 @sadbitchfangirll @actual-mom-steve-harrington @stylesyourmine @pennyllanne @johnricharddeacy

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve x reader #stranger things s4 #stranger things #stranger things x reader #joe keery

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lenaariewrld · 4 months

Text

C.05 — the concert thing (w)

ON THE AIR — childe x reader smau

| SYNOPSIS;; Teyvat University’s popular radio personality, Y/n L/n, has only one gripe with her life. Her classmate, neighbour, and all-around nuisance in her life, Tartaglia. Their rivalry extends just past academics and, to her horror, into her work. He becomes the music director and co-host for her radio show, working alongside her most nights and forcing himself even deeper into her life. But is he really trying to just be friends, or is there an ulterior motive to his actions?

| WC: 2.6k

previous! ~ masterlist ! ~ next!

You and Ganyu stand on the sidewalk as Cyno parks his car and pays for the spot –estimating the amount of time the three of you will be there– while the both of you lean against each other casually. You had snatched one of Cyno’s jackets before leaving the house and now used it to cover you and Ganyu, your arms snaked around her shoulders and your chin on her hair. The air outside was slightly chilly with the wind, but still warm from the summer heat. At least it wasn’t balmy and humid anymore. For that, you were grateful. The pleasant moments ends when Cyno joins the two of you, looping one of his arms each with you and leading the way to the bar.

A small line was already forming when the three of you walked closer, full of excited young adults ready to have a memorable night or anxiously waiting to see Childe and his band perform. You recognize a few of the people in the line, waving to classmates or to people who greet you with an excitable call of your name. This bar was pretty popular for university students, so you aren’t surprised that people who also know about your show are here. You’re just surprised about the overlap between yours and Childe’s audience. As Cyno skirts his way to the front, you overhear a couple conversations. You don’t resist the urge to roll your eyes when you hear a couple girls whispering about him and how attractive they find him.

It was annoying, but you knew the man had charm. That you couldn’t necessarily deny.

It just didn’t work on you.

With a flash of Cyno’s student ID and the newspaper’s lanyard he wore, all three of you get accepted into the bar. Immediately, you and Ganyu beeline it to find an empty table far enough away from the stage to avoid anyone from that group recognizing your presence. Cyno goes to get drinks, meanwhile. The first thing you noticed upon setting your bag down and tucking your friend’s jacket over your legs was the atmosphere. The bar was crowded, expected for a Friday night.

The lights are dimmed enough to add a sense of intimacy between people’s conversations and to provide contrast to the bright stage lights that have been set up on the far end of the bar, directly opposite from the bar where some very worn-looking bartenders dash left and right to make a million drinks. You pity them, hoping they get tipped well enough to deal with this particular chaos.

A couple minutes pass before Cyno returns, three drinks delicately balanced in his hands. A virgin drink for Ganyu, and two colorful (and probably very boozy) cocktails for the two of you. You clink your glass with him. “So, what all do you need for this paper?” You ask, willing to help where you can since you had nothing better to do. Even if you were dragged here.

“A couple pictures of the performance, some comments from the band members, and maybe a video to replay while I’m writing later so I don’t leave out any details.” The white-haired man tells you, counting off on his fingers. You sip from the little bendy straw in your glass, humming thoughtfully. “I was hoping I could catch Thoma afterwards and get something from him since he’s the only one I know–”

“And can tolerate?” You finish with a cheeky grin. Cyno nods, a smile pulling at his lips as well. You chuckle and lean your elbows on the table. “Me and Ganyu can record the set if you want to focus on everything else,” You offer.

Ganyu reaches over and gently takes the strawberry set on the rim of your glass. “We have a pretty good spot to watch, so if we record it, you definitely won’t miss anything,” She adds, matter-of-factly before eating the red fruit. You nod along, sliding the toothpick of fruits from Cyno’s drink her way as well.

“Thanks, guys,” He smiles, appreciative of your combined efforts to make this night go as quickly as possible. He turns his head as the lights on stage brighten. “They’re starting. I’m gonna go find a good vantage spot,” With that, your friend dismisses himself and disappears in the crowd as Childe and his bandmates shuffle onto stage. They’re loud and over the top, but they draw everyone in as they find their spots and introduce themselves. Admittedly, they even draw your attention in.

“Thank you all for coming to see us! And for those who didn’t, but may be interested; we are Vapriize,” Childe says into the mic, his hands adjusting his grip on the bass in his hands. The lead singer, a short little blue-haired guy named Scara, clears his throat and begins speaking next but you stopped paying attention by that point. Soon enough, they start to play and the music fills the bar.

You listen as Ganyu sets up her phone and begins recording, making sure to hold it high enough to see the entire stage of people’s heads. Oddly enough, as you listen, you find yourself enjoying the songs as the set progresses. It’s not the typical kind of grungy “I fuck girls and I know I’m hot” kind of music you expected.

Though it is a pop-rock type of instrumental, the lyrics imply a heavy heartbreak, with the lead singer passionately pleading whoever the song is about to give any crumb of attention, even if its just listening to the song, rather than leaving point blank. It was a raw desperation you knew well, something that resonated in your chest. The next couple songs are similar, lamenting how though the past relationship is over, the lead singer still finds pieces of her in every aspect of his life. Or about how apparent he’s made her effect on him and now without her absence it’s like he’s transparent. It sits uncomfortably in your gut, the way you relate to the songs, making your stomach sink further to your feet.

You down your drink and dismiss yourself to get another one, tapping Ganyu’s shoulder to alert her you’ll be right back. More music plays. You find yourself humming along once you sit down again, your well-manicured nails tapping on your cocktail glass, your chin propped on your hand, and your body swaying slightly to the music. At some point, Ganyu finds your hand and laces your fingers together, keeping the both of you grounded through the haze of the bar. During a quiet moment, she leans over to check on you.

“Are you enjoying this even a little bit?” She asks, raising her brows just slightly, a tiny wrinkle in between them. You smile and reach out to smooth it away.

“Maybe a little bit, but it’s hard not to be with you guys around,” You admit with a shrug. Cyno briefly shows up to your table once the set ends nearly an hour later, dropping off his camera and notepad.

“Gotta piss,” Is his only explanation before he darts off to the bathrooms. You laugh. Reaching over, you slide his possessions closer to you, taking care not to spill anything on the paper of your friend’s notepad. You glance over what he’s written so far, but you’re stumped by the chaos of his notes and the jumbled lines on the paper. It looks like nonsense, but you know Cyno’s process is one that works. You’ve read his completed works in the newspaper everytime a new issue comes out.

You tense as an all-too-familiar voice greets you. “Well, I didn’t expect to see you here… and dressed so pretty.” Childe slides into the third unoccupied seat at the little table, his chin propping onto his hand in a mirror of your position. You frown, crossing your arms instead. “Is it for me?” He continues, cocking his head to the side and raises his brow, his eyes darting over you. You make a gagging noise and dramatically turn away to cover your mouth.

“No it’s not. It’s for myself,” Your voice is cold as you speak to him, your glare biting. You refuse to break eye contact or back down. You were never one to be intimidated, and much less one to be so easily swooned by cheap words and bad pick-up lines. It helped when you also despised the person they came from. And you hate Childe. You hate his stupid smug face, and his perfectly tousled hair with the little blonde streak in the front. You hate the mischievous glint in his deep blue eyes, or the creases at the corners when he smiles. And you hate the way his voice purrs your name, slipping from his tongue like honey while he sidles ever so closer to your body.

“Mm, why are you here, Y/n?” He asks, watching the way you chug your second drink of the night, avoiding any chance to continue the conversation. “I thought you wanted nothing to do with me?” His voice is teasing, irritatingly so, but it’s also… softer. You notice his eyes darting around your face, some look in his eyes that for once isn’t mischief or malice. But one you definitely can’t place. You also notice he’s not looking over the rest of your body anymore, caring less about the revealing cut of your dress than the way your expression morphs.

He noticed you frowned less deeply when you were tipsy, your cheeks flushed all pink and your eyes blinking slowly. You looked more like an angry cat than anything. You looked… cute.

When you clear your throat, you notice Childe seem to break out of whatever trance he was in, his shoulders squaring a little more. “My friend needs to be here for his newspaper and I’m offering moral support.”

“Newspaper? Are they writing something about us?~” He hums.

“It’s not like it’s by choice. Your band is about as interesting to see as a flea circus,” You retort, chuckling into your cocktail as you take another dangerous gulp. The liquor burns your throat but it soothes the urge to gag whenever Tartaglia so much as opens his mouth.

“We’re plenty interesting,” Childe pretends to pout dramatically, tilting his head to the side like a wounded puppy. You’d find it charming how easily he could switch if it weren’t for the fact he used this ability to get on every single one of your nerves. “I saw you enjoying yourself for a few of our songs, even you little boytoy was bopping around,” He casts a glance around the bar.

“He’s not my boytoy,” You scoff, “Just because I have a friend who’s a guy doesn’t mean either of us wants to sleep together. Some of us are capable of viewing women as people, unlike you,” You spit the words as you turn your head away, hoping and praying Cyno finds you again so you can shoo Childe off for good.

“I can see plenty of women as people. Just not demons like you,” He laughs as if sharing a funny joke.

“Shut up, you ass,” You huff, moving to get up. Your cocktail no longer does the trick of helping you forget who you’re talking to or why it was so irritating to be around him. Childe moves to grab your wrist.

“Hey, hey, I’m not trying to hurt your feelings–”

“You have no effect on my feelings, Tartaglia,” You spit, teeth bared. “Let me go. I’m tired of talking to an un-empathetic loser,”

“You don’t have to be a bitch, you were the one who made the first joke,” Childe retorts, but he does as you say and lets go of your wrist, but now you were getting annoyed, your hands on your hips as you scoff yet again. His audacity was really something to behold.

“You’re the asshole who tried to force a conversation with me, don’t act like a saint,”

“I’m being friendly, Y/n,” He defends. You throw your hands up, exasperated at the excuse he doesn’t entirely seem to believe either. He’s stood up just like you are at this point, the both of you sizing each other up despite the fact that he easily clears you in height and strength.

“You’re being a fuckboy,” You seethe through gritted teeth, your eyes narrowed. Ganyu grabs bother bag and Cyno’s stuff from the chairs, urging you to evacuate the situation though you don’t entirely hear her, too focused on the annoying ginger right in front of you.

“Fuck you, Y/n,”

“Fuck you, too,” You declare, snatching your things off the table and taking Ganyu’s hand. “Let’s go,” You tell her and storm off without another word to the man. You’re still fuming as every second passes, carving your way through the crowd of people and towards the exit. You can find Cyno later, or even send him a text about where you are. For now, you just needed to get out of there.

You hated that you were worked up. But even worse, you hated that you felt a pang of disappointment in your chest, the conversation between you and Tartaglia having felt pretty naturally before you both exploded. God, that fact alone only made you more angry.

As soon as the fresh night air hits your face, you slow down and turn to Ganyu. “I’m sorry for… that,” You tell her, guilt evident on your face. She squeezes your hand.

“It’s not your fault, he came out of nowhere,” She assures, the both of you walking down the sidewalk to a less populated spot right outside the bar. You lean against the gritty brick and dig around in your purse for your lighter and pack, handing Ganyu your phone so she can text Cyno about where the two of you are.

After retrieving and lighting your cigarette, you place everything neatly back in your bag, inhaling deeply through the stick of nicotine. You manage to get a few drags in before the door to the bar bursts open, Cyno emerging with a tall, relaxed blonde following behind him. You recognize Thoma from the couple of time you had visited the newspaper staff a couple years ago, back when you had been trying out different things for your major. He looked better now. Well-built, more sure of himself. He waves to you and Ganyu as the two men approach, forming a loose group circle.

“How are you? What happened?” Cyno asked, eyeing the cigarette between your pointer and middle finger. You hold it out for him to take, letting him take a drag while you explained how Childe had come up to you and Ganyu and the conversation that had happened. “Dick,” Cyno mutters around the cig, blowing the smoke away from any of your faces before handing it back to you. “Sorry, I know he’s sorta your friend,” He then apologises to Thoma.

“Oh, I know he can be an ass, though,” Thoma waves his hand dismissively, chuckling as he shoves his hands in his pockets. You chuckle, giving him a nod of respect.

You, Cyno, and Ganyu all catch up with Thoma as you relax again and finish your little vice. The conversation remains light-hearted and easy, none of you daring to breach any uncomfortable topics while the night was so nice and peaceful. The buzzing of bugs in your ears and the fuzzy feeling of the nicotine and liquor in your system helping to calm you down. By the time you all call it a night, you feel less shitty.

“Goodnight, take care of yourself,” You say as you hug Thoma, squeezing him tight. He hugs you back, echoing a similar sentiment before you both part. The others give their own goodbyes and your two groups split off. Cyno leads you and Ganyu back to his car, taking back his things from the blue-haired woman with a grateful hum before climbing in and driving you all home.

You’re not sure what to make of this night but one thing is certain. You definitely, certainly, without a doubt, hate Childe. And co-hosting with him was going to be hell.

———

A/Ns: we getting into it!! i looooove writing banter (and getting to see the enemies are maybe-not-so-enemy's)!! as always, likes/reblogs/comments are appreciated in any form, and don't forget to get rest and take care of yourself <33

TAGLIST: @popiizpops

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ghoularaki · 7 months

Text

baby's breath | 3

↠ summary: Merely by coincidence, Erwin, your father's former friend had crossed paths with you again after nearly a decade. He offered solace once finding out you were struggling with not just school, but your home life as well. His home he shared with another one of your father's friends, Levi, became a sanctuary. Though, the more you came over for study sessions, the more they wiggled themselves into your private life. And like baby's breath, they weeded themselves in so deep you couldn't uproot them.

↠ word count: 3,824

↠ pairing: levi ackerman x reader x erwin smith

↠ genre/warnings: angst, smut, modern au, DARK CONTENT, yandere, noncon/dubcon, daddy kink, forced infantilism, pet play, age gap, death threats, human trafficking, bdsm

When Erwin came home elated Levi knew to be cautious. The larger man rarely got excited over anything really. For years, the two had dabbled in the darker side of business. After so long, it’s hard to really say what started it and why they do what they do.

Levi had grown up on the streets and seen the horrors the world had to offer. A dog eat dog type mentality had stuck with him. If he wanted to point fingers, he could place the blame on his uncle for getting him looped in a sex trafficking ring. He wasn’t proud of what he did: alluring women and men alike to damned them to a life of suffering, but the guilt dissipated.

He got paid good money to step on the backs of others. A man could only handle filth for so long. Levi was able to leave the depths of hell and crawl his way to normal civilization. Within two years he could afford his own home on the outskirts of the city.

Erwin was nothing like Levi. He didn’t join the ring out of desperation, but out of curiosity. A deep hunger grew to see how far he could take it. Watch how he could puppeteer a human’s life and reduce them to smaller bits of themselves.

At the time Erwin had gotten his first job as a professor. They met on pure coincidence as Levi was under the guise of a janitor to scope out new recruits. Again, Levi couldn’t remember how the topic of conversation came up of his real profession, but Erwin's eyes flickered with a sadistic twinge. Erwin wanted to help. He knew his charm and how to convince any man to follow him blindly would be beneficiary. He did have a way with words afterall.

And apparently so as Levi let him into his world.

Within almost a decade the two had created their own ring separate from Levi’s uncle. To this day it flourished. Money was never an issue on top of Erwin’s income as a professor.

So when Erwin came bursting through the front doors with a wide grin on his face Levi was perplexed. The large man never got this happy over a new recruit. A sick apathy mixed with pleasure usually present on his visage, never a smile.

“I found her,” Erwin said, hanging his coat on the rack.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You know how I wanted a personal pet—”

Levi groaned, “I thought we dropped this.”

“Let me finish,” Erwin continued while toeing off his shoes, “This isn’t some girl I’m picking off the street. I used to know her as a child and she’s just… God, she’s perfect, Levi. I tested it out since I took her out for coffee and she was so obedient. She’s hesitant at first, but with a little push, she was so good.”

Crossing his arms, Levi listened to Erwin rant, skeptical. “So what do you want to do?”

Erwin turned sheepish, “I invited her over for tomorrow.”

“You can’t just spring this shit on me,” Levi pinched the middle of his eyebrows in exasperation. Erwin had a problem of bringing home strays.

“She’s different, trust me.”

“We will see about that.”

~*~

The next day when you came over, Levi had no clue what to make of you. You were not what he was expecting. He didn’t think you would be so young. Maybe in your late twenties or even thirties, but not a young woman still an undergrad. Also you were not any bit obedient as Erwin made you out to be.

You had a mouth on you and loved to give Levi an attitude. Your nonchalant questioning of when he answered the door instead of Erwin sunk deep into the man. A want to bend you over his knee itched and burned under his skin. Erwin definitely did this on purpose. He knew how much Levi loved to play with his food.

Though, a tiny part of him softened when he saw your love for tea. You also didn’t question his odd way of holding his cup. Curious eyes glanced before going back to the topic at hand. Erwin diligently helped you with your homework as you soaked up his words. You had no clue this was a trial run.

And you unknowingly passed.

The more time you spent with them, the more Levi wanted to pick you apart and study you. You were an unbearably independent person. Any help offered besides Erwin’s assigned tutoring was met with a multitude of refusals. Even when the secret came out that you were homeless surfaced, you still didn’t want to live in their—well Levi’s—extravagant home.

Your disregard for them offering you a life of comfort was even off putting to Levi. But he had to admit, if twenty-two year old Levi had someone open their luxury home to him, he would be suspicious. This only furthered his interest.

But time withers even the hardest of stone to sand. Over the course of a few months, Erwin had slithered his way into every part of your life like mold. Any foundation you had Erwin engrained himself deep into the grout. A type of spore you couldn’t scrub out.

Levi had taken a backseat to Erwin’s process. This is what the two men usually did when luring victims in. The shorter man would scope out new prey while Erwin hooked them in with promises of riches and to be Erwin’s new lover. You were different. Whether this was to your benefit or misfortune twisted in Levi’s head. He wasn’t stupid to the type of men him and Erwin were. You were bound to crumble in their hands. For your sake, he hoped Erwin wouldn’t get bored as fast.

Though, he was still tempted. He tested the waters by trapping you against the counter. How could he not with how much you poked and prodded him? The mouth on you encapsulated him in a way no other person had. Usually backtalk infuriated Levi to the point of violence, but the need to hurt you was something some would argue was far darker.

So when he easily pinned your leg to the counter and your pathetic attempt to break free, planted the seed Erwin wanted to engrain in him from the beginning. Sure the man chewed him out later that day since you almost opened the door, but he only met him with typical apathy. You were bound to find out eventually and frankly, Levi was too old for this game of cat and mouse.

The tension never left the home. He was sure you thought you were to blame, but the bubble waiting to burst was between the men of the household. Erwin didn’t want to scare you and have you flee, though the sentiment flew right out the window when he hit you.

Levi just about fought Erwin when he slapped you so hard blood poured from your pretty face. He squashed down the want, and coddled Erwin as he babbled and stared at his own hand in contempt. Grabbing a washcloth, Levi rubbed away the red staining his fingers.

“She will come back. Be patient.”

Erwin had a far away look in his eyes as they slid to Levi, “I don’t need patience.”

Levi pinched his brows in confusion. The man was being cryptic again. His confusion was quickly answered when over a month later, you stomped your way to the door. Pounding on the sheet of wood like a mad woman, Levi rubbed away the migraine forming.

Anger radiated around you. Levi didn’t know much of what Erwin did to get you crawling back, but it wasn’t good. You were spitting fire as you barrelled into the home. Levi didn’t have the energy to scold you. All he was aware of that day was D-day. No matter what, you were to be theirs.

The argument escalated and Levi’s questions were finally answered. He didn’t think Erwin was batshit enough to completely cut you off from everything. Impressed by his strategy once again, Levi stood back watching it all unfold. He honestly wanted Erwin and you to argue more, but when Erwin nodded to him Levi heeled.

Wrapping his arm around your throat and suffocating you was unnecessary, but he enjoyed feeling you struggle under him. How you clawed for oxygen. Humans are so fascinating and their primal instincts to survive. Levi wanted to instill at least a little bit of fear in you. No matter how much hot shit you think you are, he will always be stronger.

Your body fell limp in his arms. As he moved his arms to carry you, Erwin detached Levi from you. He wrapped his own limbs around your form in a princess carry. Levi followed behind when you were taken into the room designed just for you. Erwin’s pace reflected giddiness. He had been waiting for this day for years. A little baby doll for him to play with.

Levi went ahead of the lumbering man to open the door for him. Gently, Erwin rested you on the soft, carpeted floor. He had no idea when you would awaken and he didn’t want you to be startled by the crate. Plus, the crate was more Levi’s idea than his.

You had slept through the whole rest of the day and through the night much to Levi’s surprise. Anxiety radiated off of Erwin as he prepared for work.

“Call me if she wakes up.”

“No shit,” Levi answered, in the middle of finishing up Erwin’s lunch.

Neatly packing the food in a bag, he handed the food to him. Erwin’s eyes bounced to the hallway where your sleeping body resides. Levi ushered Erwin out and he obeyed.

With a sigh, he closed and locked the door. To be completely honest with himself, Levi was also growing anxious. Normally the toxin would wear off by now as it was seven in the morning. But, he did give a higher dosage than usual. He had no clue how much you would’ve struggled. Pacifying his own fears, he reassured himself you would be awake by this afternoon.

Walking into the bedroom, your body hadn’t moved an inch from where Erwin placed you on the floor. An itch built up from under his nails at the thought of the filth accumulating. You hadn’t bathed since early yesterday and were in the same clothes. Knowing the scratch won’t go away until you were properly cleaned, Levi bent down and took you to the bathroom.

Washing and dressing you was easy, but felt strange. Levi felt as if he was cleaning a doll instead of an adult. You were so lifeless, limp. Pushing the thought away, he went through your pants and found your phone along with your keys. The little metal piece reminded him your car was still in their yard. Pocketing the keys, his attention went to your phone.

His thumb pressed the side button and your phone activated. The soft glow illuminated his face as he spied your lockscreen. It was an old photo of you and what he assumed were your siblings. What a melancholy image. You clearly missed your family, but had no way back to them. Sliding up he was met with your four digit passcode.

After a couple tries, Levi cracked it with ease. Face buried in your phone, he closed the door behind him and crossed into the main part of the home. Levi instantly went into your messages. You didn’t have many contacts, most were either for work or college. The only active chats were between you, Levi and Erwin.

He moved on to your camera roll as he grabbed his own keys. They clicked together like tiny bells. Turning his attention to the door, he locked it with an audible click and moved to his truck. His curiosity would have to wait as he couldn’t drive and look at your phone at the same time. Pocketing the device, he got in his truck and twisted the ignition on. The black truck rumbled to life and sputtered a bit.

Twisting his body to see out the back window, he drove the car until it was right in front of yours. Jumping out, he grabbed a chain and hook. Attaching the car to your car, Levi grumbled under his breath at their stupidity. Leaving your car in the driveway for this long was an idiotic move. He only wished the neighbors weren’t paying too close attention. They were far away anyway and minded their business. But the problem was driving out in public. The best time would be at night, but the longer the car was here, the more suspicions would fall on them.

Slinking back into the driver’s seat, Levi planned to simply take only backroads. No one really drove in this part of the city anyway. His body shook from side to side driving down the bumpy, gravel roads. The tiny rocks crunched under his tires.

About an hour out Levi met with the lake he visited time and time again. The lake was secluded and not marked by any national park. Deep in the outskirts no one cared to know about. Childhood memories whispered in the air. Pulling up, his truck sunk a little from the soft ground. The area was more of a swamp than anything. The mud would welcome your car in its suffocating embrace.

Hopping out of his truck, Levi clicked his tongue at the wet earth seeping into his boots. Pulling out your key, your car beeped as he unlocked it. He opened the door and twisted your car on. Rolling down the windows half way, he then bent over to switch the gear into drive. Quickly, he ducked out of the car and watched as it drove into the lake. The water slowly swallowed the vehicle. Levi stood there until the car dropped deep, deep into the waters.

Satisfied, he went into the back of his truck and lifted up a shovel and started upturning the mud to get rid of the tire tracks along with his foot prints. Throwing the shovel in the bed, he climbed into his truck and drive back home.

By the time, he arrived back it was ten o’clock and you showed no signs of being awake. So Levi waited and waited, observing your resting form. He drank up how your chest gently rose and fell in tandem. You were so fragile and easy to break. If he so wished, he could crack open your chest and see what made you, well, you.

His finger traced down your chin to the middle of your throat and down to your sternum. He pressed down on the bone until a whine left your chest. Levi tilted his head at the sound, wanting to evoke more whimpers but he knew Erwin would be pissed if he bruised his little girl.

The day wasted away as Levi departed from the bedroom, and went to clean the house and get started on dinner. A tingle went down Levi’s spine, beckoning him to check on you. His instinct was right as he watched you struggle to take in the stimuli and hardly able to move.

When you registered Levi was also in the room, he didn’t expect you to freak out the way you did. Not to the extent of pissing yourself. A sick mix of desire and disgust filled him. He despised the mess flowing out from you, but Levi drank up how humiliation wafted off your form.

Erwin came in just in time. While the egregious man set off to wash you of your embarrassment, Levi went to work to scrub the carpet. Down the hall, he heard Erwin’s gruff voice bark out, but chose to ignore it. Erwin was a big boy and didn’t need Levi to come to the rescue. Plus, he wanted to test how long Erwin could tame his anger.

Once he was done, he made his way into the bathroom. He noticed the door was locked. Taking the key from his pocket, he unlocked the door and put the keys back. Levi caught how your eyes honed in on the set of keys. What a sneaky brat.

He also noticed Erwin’s swollen nose and your now avoidant gaze. Erwin tried to shy away but Levi quickly grabbed his face. It was rare for Erwin to be bested. You were surely going to be a problem if you are leaving this hulking, brilliant man a babbling fool.

Dinner went how he expected. You were reluctant to drop out of college. He couldn’t blame you as your disappearance would be a ticket to your freedom, but they had to be thorough. Your already poor attendance only worked in their favor.

Annoyance built up in Levi at Erwin’s slip up, but he decided it was time for you to go back to bed. You must be exhausted despite sleeping almost two full days away. He could tell you were borderlining on hysterics once more.

Picking you up, he carried you back to the bathroom with pure intentions. Though, you still squirmed for whatever reason. Placing you down, he prepared the toothbrush. You hadn’t brushed your teeth in two days and that itch crawled back under his skin.

As he commanded you to open your mouth, Levi thought nothing of your contemplating glare. Pain shot up from his hand and down his arm.

“Shit!”

You bit him. You actually fucking bit him.

If his rationale wasn’t screaming at him, he could have killed you in that moment. A festering anger boiled as he slapped you back in return. The smile on your face stayed on despite it.

Blood dripped down his arm as he dragged you back into the bedroom. Even though the comment you made was a snide one, you were right. He would have to go to the doctor to get the wound checked out. The bite was deep and the blood had not stopped.

With Erwin’s promise to handle you until he came back, Levi set off to go to the urgent care. Walking by the bathroom, he grabbed a clean hand towel and wrapped his hand within the cloth. Stomping his way out the house, he slammed the door closed and went into his truck.

You were such a little fucking shit. You were in for it once he got back and he wasn’t going to hold back. Fuck what Erwin said. The only way you were going to listen was through harsh punishment. Pain was the best motivator.

Grumbling the whole way, Levi drove swiftly to urgent care. He didn’t care to deal with the annoyance and even longer wait line at the ER. Clutching onto his still bleeding, throbbing hand, he walked through the glass door with some difficulty. You were dead fucking meat when he got back home.

“How can I help you today, Sir?” An eldery woman with a monotone voice behind the counter asked. The clacking of her acrylics against the rickety keyboard grated Levi’s ears.

He held up his hand, “I got bit by a dog.”

“Oh my!” The woman gasped. She reached over with a clipboard and handed it to Levi, “Try to fill this out as best as you can and a doctor should be right with you.”

Levi nodded his head and went over to the vacant chairs. Surprisingly there was only two other people within the waiting area. Grabbing the pen, he wrote with ease despite you injuring his dominant hand. After years of fending for his life he taught himself how to be ambidextrous.

Almost half an hour passed when Levi’s name was finally called. The bleeding finally stopped, but he was sure he would need stitches. The nurse that called him was a tall man with dirty blonde hair. He wasn’t anything significant in any way.

“It’s just right down here.”

He led Levi down the sterile, blaring white halls. The doorknob unlatched with a mechanical crunch. The nurse continued, “So what are you in for?”

Levi walked himself to the examination table and shuffled himself on top of it. “I got bit by a dog,” he repeated.

The nurse’s face grimaced at the thought of the pain, “Yikes, let me take a quick look and then I will grab Dr. Zoe.”

He held out his hand for the nurse to unwind the stained towel. Levi barely flinched when the rough material was tugged from the skin it latched onto. The nurse cradled his hand and tilted the wound towards him.

His face pulled into one of confusion before schooling it, “The dog got you real good, huh?”

“You can say that.”

Clearing his throat, he let go of Levi’s hand, “Well, I’m going to get the doctor now. Try to keep your hand elevated above your shoulder to help stop the bleeding and the swelling.”

With that, the nurse left the room and Levi to his own devices. Boredom quickly ate up at his mind. Little could be done in the room and he didn’t care for playing on his phone. A part itched to explore your phone, but he broke it earlier today on a whim to scare you further.

So he sat there counting the minutes go by until another thirty minutes dragged on. Finally a knock was heard on the door.

“Come in.”

The doctor poked their head in with a goofy grin. “Why, hello! I’m Dr. Zoe.”

Levi grunted in response. He despised pleasantries.

The smile didn’t fall once and kept on, “So I heard you got a nasty bite. Have you cleaned it or taken any medicine at all?”

“No.”

Dr. Zoe went up to Levi and directed his hand towards them. Peeling back the cloth like the nurse did, their face pinched at the wound. “Sir, are you sure this is a dog bite?”

Levi’s expression pulled back in irritation, “How the fuck would I not be sure? I was there when the fucker bit me.”

“Whoa there!” Dr. Zoe laughed, “No need to be so aggressive, gotta be thorough, you know?”

Levi didn’t respond and simply glared at them.

Coughing to fill the tension, they continued, “Well the wound isn’t deep enough to warrant stitches. We still need to clean it and give you antibiotics. If the wound doesn’t clear up or show signs of getting better in two weeks please come back. Also remember to finish the whole prescription to avoid complications.”

Levi nodded his headd and let the doctor dress the wound, reminding him to change the dressing frequently.

He was half paying attention, lost in his own mind of how to properly punish you while he waited for the bite to heal. For his own sake, the short man prayed you lasted longer than two weeks.

#yandere x reader #yandere levi #yandere levi x reader #yandere erwin #erwin x reader #levi x reader #yandere aot #aot smut #yandere male #yandere

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slashers-and-rats · 1 year

Note

You know those kandi bracelets? Slashers being gifted these bracelets. I saw someone write about this once and it hasn’t left my brain since

rat chat: dude i love those bracelets!! if they didn’t distract me so much i’d wear them more often.

Slashers Receiving Kandi Bracelets from GN!Reader

featured slashers: billy lenz, jason vorhees, micheal myers

Billy Lenz :

i think this would be one of billy’s favourite gifts ever!!

you’d give him something chunky, with blue and green beads and little kitty charms, and maybe some squishy rubber bobbles thrown on too. for awhile, he’d just roll it around in his palms and not even wear it. he’d just feel up the textures and listen to the way it jingled in his hands. it’s really a stim thing for him, i think he’d really enjoy using it to fidget with.

he’s feral, he’d chew on it too. you’d catch him wearing the bracelet, gnawing on it without even thinking about it. whenever he’s focused on something, or you aren’t in the mood to be his chew toy, he’d use the bracelet instead.

he’d never take it off. it’s his now, why would he? plus YOU gave it to him. that makes it even more special. no, he’d always wear it, and when he doesn’t have it on, it would be tucked away into a pocket. he keeps it as close to him as possible.

billy would wanna make new ones too. it would become a little activity for you both to bond over. you’d buy cool beads and pieces, and bring them home, and watch him sort through them all and find the stuff he likes. and then you would make a bracelet for him, and he’d make a matching one for you.

he’d want you two to match. you’d have the same bracelet except in your favourite colours, or maybe with your initials on them. if you managed to get him out of the house, he’d make you wear it, so people knew you were all his.

Jason Vorhees :

jason would definitely see it as a craft for you two to do together. you’d bring up one day that you missed making friendship bracelets at summer camp, and that you’d bought all the stuff to make some. you two would sit for a bit, and once you’ve finished the one you made for him, he’d wear it everywhere.

jason loves seeing you happy he’s wearing it. that’s his favourite part. whenever he’s outside, cutting wood for your fire pit, and you see the big shiny beading sparkling in the sun, you get so excited. and he sees it. he’ll be watching from the corner of his eye, smiling underneath his mask, all proud that he’s making you so smily.

jason would tie it to his belt loop if he couldn’t wear it. maybe he’s working with power tools or the like, and can’t have loose things hanging off of his arms, so he’d connect it to his pants. he wants to keep it on him, since it’s a nice little reminder of you.

you catch him playing with it a lot. his bracelet has red and black beads, and charms that look like little hearts. you’d have put his initials on it too, and it took you awhile to make it fit his thick wrist right. you’d only make him one or two, since bracelets weren’t really his thing, but he’d appreciate them nevertheless.

he has more fun making them for you, actually. you’d have dozens from him. while you were out doing errands or work, he’d be at home making you little bracelets in his free time. you’d come home and they’d be lined up, all decorated in your favourite colours and charms. he just likes making you things, i think.

Micheal Myers :

very confused by the concept at first. micheal isn’t the biggest on jewellery, obviously, and tends to keep pretty plain in what he wears. when you suddenly give him something so chunky and bright, he’s a little off put.

at first, he doesn’t wear it. he’s not trying to insult you at all. you can see it in the breast pocket of his jumpsuit, and he always makes sure to take it out and put it on the nightstand beside the bed before he takes his things off for the night. he cherishes it, since it’s from you, but it’s harder for him to get used to.

once you make a matching bracelet, and start wearing it around so that he notices, he starts wearing it much more often. he never mentions it either. you just see him one day wearing it with you, and when you try to say something, he just covers your mouth and continues whatever he’s doing. he gets flustered when he’s called out on his sweeter actions.

the one you make for you both is navy blue and white, and has little skulls and knives hanging off of it. the beads spell out “y/n + micheal” in sparkly bubble letters. that’s his favourite part. he never really got that sweet teenage romance phase, so getting to do silly little things like this make his heart flutter.

i think he’d also use it as a fidget thing. i think when he’s anxious, maybe out running errands without his mask, he’d be rubbing at the charms in his pocket to keep himself calm. he’d like having a little reminder of you close to him, since you make him feel safe.

#slasher x reader #billy lenz #billy lenz x reader #ask #jason vorhees x reader #jason vorhees #micheal myers #micheal myers x reader #slashers

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idyllcy · 7 months

Text

if I told you that I love you, you could be mine

word count: 15.7k

warnings: non-explicit smut, death and heavy themes, historical au

summary: whether in curse or in blessing, in life or in death, he is your knight before anything else, and your orders are absolute, even if it means losing you

🕛.

You die too early the first time Cael serves you.

He finds that the two of you are stuck in some time loop, some loop in which every time you wake up at the stroke of nine on the night you had suffered a concussion, and you stare at your hand, a new carving on your upper thigh, a groan slipping past your lips as he watches you make way to the mirror and pull your night dress up to count. The first time it happens, you only see one tick on your upper thigh, and you turn to look at Cael, confused, eyes wide.

"What... year is it?"

Cael, the ever-faithful servant, gives you the year.

The first time it happened, you clawed at your hair and cried.

The first time it happened, Cael did not tell you that he had returned with you. He had simply watched as you scribbled down everything that happens in the future, and he had nodded when you had told him to guard outside the door rather than inside. He is your faithful knight. His sole purpose is to live to serve you— so if you regress and want him outside of the room from now on, he will regress with you. He will serve you until blood bleeds through his fingers and his soul shatters into pieces through the regression. Until the sun burns out from exhaustion and leaves not a trace of the planet left, he will serve you.

So, he follows you on your journey, he watches as you flirt with the king, lips curled into a sweet smile as you link arms with him, the passion that bled past your skin burning into his, an impression that left everyone who had ever interacted with you speechless. It was simply how you were. You had the aura that would win thousands, and you knew it. So, he stands there on the side, simply content with being with you at every moment. You indulge in the king, smile charming him, and your engagement approaches. He does not get the luxury of being the one you choose, but he gets the honor of being by your side and escorting you down the aisle to the king.

Even if he is too old for you, and even if the king is almost a decade above your age, Cael hands your hand to the king with a nod. He believes that you are making the correct choice. You are making the correct choice to pick the king, and you will live to see a long, long life. You will have children and rule over the empire with dignity and grace, and he will stand by your side through it all as your personal knight.

Your first death comes too fast.

First, there is the announcement of your pregnancy. You are told that you will bear a son to the king, and the two of you are elated. The village streets are decorated with ornaments that would cost a fortune at the celebration of a royal prince, and you are elated, your smile crinkling even the corner of your eyes with a joy that he could only call euphoric. As your personal knight, he guards the chambers of you and the king at night, fighting off any intruders that the king himself was not fast enough for. There are little assassins, he finds. The people of the empire are relatively content with the fact that you are to bear a son.

You decorate the coming prince's bedroom, his cradle and bed all dressed with pretty hues that you pick out personally, and Cael nods at you as you ask him which one would suit the baby more. He tells you both— if your child is to take after you, the prince would look beautiful. You laugh at him, lips stretched into a wide smile as you smack him playfully. You smack him in a way that is unbefitting of the queen of the empire, but in a way that Cael has grown used to since the beginning of his service to you, a way that Cael knows is only reserved for him.

As your due date arrives, he stays by your side alongside the king, offering you a hand when you struggle to do simple tasks, nodding at the maids as he makes your favorite dish. You eat it with the same vigor that he is used to, and he cracks the smallest of smiles as you finish his dish and ask for seconds. The king laughs, wiping your mouth with a smile, simply glad that you are eating again after your pregnancy sickness.

Then, your water breaks.

It is at night, and Cael calls for a maid as the king holds onto your hand, and he watches the midwife as she rushes in with a group of maids. Your legs are spread, and you are told to push, your screaming too graphic for even Cael's ears. He grimaces, wishing nothing more than for you to finish, and no one notices as a maid slips in with water prepared for you, pressing it to your lips with an uncanny amount of panic in her eyes as you swallow, eyes murky and your head spinning. Cael senses something is wrong, grabbing the maid's arm as she tries to slip out with the water, eyes harsh as he tells her anyone who enters may not leave. You push for longer, what seems like hours, and the baby finally arrives.

Then, the world falls silent.

You go quiet, assumed to have passed out, and the next three seconds are awful.

The midwife pats the baby's back. Nothing.

The king presses two fingers to your nose. Nothing.

A maid presses her ear to your heart. Nothing.

and Cael's jaw hardens as his grip around the maid's wrist tightens, nails drawing blood as a bruise forms on her skin and she thrashes in his grip. She screams and wails for him to let go, and Cael stares right past her eyes into her soul, an unbelievable amount of anger present on his face as he looks at the king for permission to draw blood. You are gone. Your son is a stillborn. He can not take orders from anyone except for the king. Perhaps it is a lingering sense of loyalty, but as the king nods, he draws his blade and kills.

He can not bring you back no matter how many times he stabs the maid. You are gone.

So, even as his uniform is bloodied and the king commands for him to stop, he does not, sanity long gone as you had been. He steps up to the stillborn still in the arms of the midwife, pulling off his gloves to brush his finger over the cheek of your child, his roughened hands jagged against the cheek of your baby, a frown so thoroughly embedded on his face that he fears it would burn his soul.

He then steps to your body, lowering himself onto one knee as he takes your hand and presses it to his forehead, his eyes closed as his heart clenches and organs sour. You are gone.

"Knight Cael." The king speaks up, eerily calm for some reason. "You are hereby—"

In the distance, bells chime, and Cael stares at your fingers as it reminds him of something.

Oh. Right.

It meant time was up.

🕐.

The second time Cael serves you, he finds himself back in your room, and you pull up your nightgown to stare at the second tick on your upper thigh, the color of a fresh wound on your skin. Your eyes widen as you curse aloud, and Cael looks up at you, expression unchanging, but in some strange way, he is relieved that you are still alive and cursing. It simply means you are back. In a way, it calms him to see you look manic on your bed.

"I'm back." You croak. "Is it because I was killed?"

Cael has learned to ignore your mutterings. It does wonders for him, he believes. You are unbothered when you think he is simply not listening.

"Cael." You whimper. "What day is it?"

He tells you the date.

You curse, falling back into your blankets, eyes closed. Again. You are here again, and Cael has to watch you suffer through it again. You have to weave your way through high society and win the heart of the king again. You groan at the thought, but you possess the knowledge of a past life to aid you this time.

The king falls for you earlier this time. He cherishes you even more than the past, and Cael watches as you are adorned with gems that the you in your past life thought yourself to be undeserving of. He watches as you adorn a ring with a gem twice the size of the one in your past, and watches as you celebrate a wedding far grander than he's ever seen before. You accept that this is what you have to do in order to reach the end, and this time, Cael makes sure not to let anyone into the room, and you deliver the baby safely. Both you and the child live this time. Cael lets out a sigh in relief when you smile at him, beckoning him over when the maids finish washing the baby and the king goes to fetch his kingdom papers.

"Isn't he cute?" You mumble, eyes gentle as you stare at the child. "I didn't get to meet him last time."

Cael nods, pulling his clean glove off to press the baby's palm, the young one's fingers wrapping around his as he smiles. "He resembles you."

"You can barely tell." You huff. "He's so young."

The child grows up slowly but loved by all. The maids and royals spoil him rotten, and Cael brings the young prince around to tour the palace. Everything goes well. Everything goes so well. It is almost as if the two of you will reach an end. It does not need to be with Cael. It simply needs to end, and the two of you will return to the dust of the earth, and your consciousness will stop looping. That is all Cael asks for. He may repeat it again and again, but in order to put you out of your misery, you would have to fulfill your planned end.

You do not.

The second time Cael serves you, you die to the blade of a loved one.

You watch as the conquering army fights with the royal army at the border, and Cael watches from next to you as the king is stabbed through the heart. You blink lifelessly as your husband falls, and you turn to Cael. Perhaps this isn't your end either. Cael asks if you would like for him to eliminate them all, but you know this is not the right ending. You were never meant to marry the king nor bear a child for him. So, you watch as the palace gates are broken through and the maids scream for mercy.

Cael presses a brick on the wall, and you follow him into the walls of the castle.

There is only one person who would be able to find you here.

The two of you make way down the passage of stairs, and you stop halfway to ditch the heels you had forced yourself to grow used to. Cael watches as you step after him, heels ditched on the stairs, descending into the lower grounds of the castle, a place where they rested the prisons. Perhaps it was not safe, but to you, anything was better than dying at the hands of the man in power during the rebellion. Though, you are not granted that mercy when you reach the bottom of the staircase.

Cael's hand rests on the hilt of his sword, ready to draw blood at any chance, and the leader of the rebellion looks up at you, eyes cold. You back down at him, eyes weary as he orders you to confess to the sins you do not have. Cael is offered a way out, but he has sworn his life to you, so he follows when you are captured and dragged to the dungeons to be publically executed. You do not know how this happened. You simply sit in the dungeon, waiting for your moment. Cael sits in the same cell, head resting against the wall as the guards who feed him each day practically shove the food down his throat.

Then, the day of your execution comes. He is paraded out after you, and he stands behind you as you confess to no crime. You are a clean slate. The flaws of the noblemen were pushed onto you to frame you as a scapegoat and as you are lowered to the guillotine and asked if you have any last words, you stare your son dead in the eye as you curse him to an eternal damnation, cursing that there would be no future with him. You curse him to live in a world in which he is forever to haunt the walls of the palace and never be born.

Cael knows what look you have in your eyes.

You are beheaded, and your head is tossed into a basket. Cael is lowered by the hair to the same guillotine, his eyes staring into your closed ones in the basket as he is asked if he too has any final words. Cael stares your son in the eye and then closes his eyes, only remarking the shame that he decided to believe his friends over the ones of the very one who brought him into the world. Your son curses him for being your loyal dog, and Cael refutes by smiling and mentioning that at least you had been faithful to him to the very end rather than pin the blame on him.

The sound of the blade cutting through the air is not the last thing Cael hears.

It is the sound of distant bells.

Time's up.

🕑.

The third time you regress, Cael watches as you lock yourself in your room for days on end.

Your son killed you. The very child you had birthed and raised with the most love in the world had killed you. You died while your son sneered at you in contempt because he believed you were the reason his expedition to the north had failed, so he decided to dethrone you. It is inhumane of him, and it tore you to shreds, Cael finds. He brings you your food— the only one bold enough to ignore you as you throw vases and pillows at him, and he brings the food to your lips, promising you that it will be fine.

You emerge from your room two months later.

By that time, there are more than enough rumors circulating about your descent into madness, but you pay them no mind. You finish the paperwork for your residence, and get back on with your life, grumbling as you make your very late debut into high society. Cael follows you around as you finish your tasks, and he escorts you down the stairs at your ballroom fitting for only the best of the best.

It is there that you catch the eye of the crown prince.

So, Cael stands by your side and you greet and smile at the prince. Surely if the king was the wrong choice, then the crown prince was the right option. Your son had betrayed you for him, after all. You accept the crown prince as your first dance, and from then on, Cael watches the same thing happen in the past. You get engaged, get married, and settle into a calm day-to-day life that is supposed to go on uninterrupted.

This is the end, Cael believes.

You are finished.

But that is never the case.

The crown prince lets you know one night in bed that he wishes to take over the kingdom, and you watch as he recruits the crown prince, and you watch as the royal palace you once resided in is reduced to nothing but dust. You watch as the queen is beheaded before your eyes, and Cael covers your vision, watching as you grab your own neck unconsciously. The sound of the blade slicing their heads off cleanly, and you grimace, reaching for Cael's hand as their heads are spiked and displayed in the center of the city.

The crown prince becomes the king, and the previous king's child is disposed of after the new king rises to power. You watch as the queen's child is killed in cold blood, and you wonder if that was the fate of yours. Instead, you listen to your husband's requests, the blood spilled during the revolution staining his hands as he presses them on your skin, and with each time he kisses you, you are reminded of the screams of the innocent as he burned down their villages.

Yet, you stay with him.

You do not know what makes you stay with him. Cael does not understand why you stay with your husband, but neither of you speaks up. So, even when Cael is ordered to relocate away from you, the two of you simply turn to the king and disagree. You voice your disagreement, and the king raises his brow at you incredulously, scoffing. He tells you that he was looking for a reason to replace you with a foreign princess anyway to solidify his position, and this was the perfect excuse. Is there any in the land who was so bold as to speak up against the king? Suddenly, everything makes sense. This man had been looking for an excuse to get rid of you, but because of your lack of flaws, he was unable to grant himself the divorce he wanted so badly.

"I will leave." You sigh. "We may get divorced at the temple."

Rather, the king draws his sword and stabs through your chest, and you cough out blood, red staining your lips and his sword as Cael catches your dead body before you can fall. You hiss out a curse at the new king and an order for him to die, and Cael lets your body to the ground slowly, stepping over it as he draws his sword. Your orders are absolute, and if he would die executing them, then so be it. He has no will to fulfill other than the will of his master. You are dead now, so even if he were to die carrying out your final will, he would simply meet in your next regression.

Cael stabs his sword through your ex-husband, and he watches as the king falls with tears in his eyes at the sight of your corpse, his throat punctured so only the sound of a whisper breaks past his lips. Cael watches as he crawls on the ground as though he were some maggot, trying to reach for you, and it makes Cael sick to his stomach. You deserve someone. You deserve someone who would not die before you, give you a son who kills you, or kills you because he is unable to handle the throne perfectly. You do not deserve all of this. The king dies next to you, and as the guards rush in to point their swords at Cael, bells sound in the distance.

Time's up.

🕒.

The fourth time you regress, you wake up and stare at the fourth tick on your skin, and you tell Cael that you're going to plan a rebellion.

Cael does not refute you. After all, if marrying neither sovereign of the nation was not the correct route, then surely putting yourself on the throne was the right. So, he works closely with you as you conspire with the crown prince, acting as an aide and watching the world burn to the ground. You take the lives of all of your past lovers and theirs, and you sit on a throne stained with the blood of your past lives and theirs. You are where you are supposed to be. You want to believe that you are where you are supposed to be. It makes you crinkle and crack, but you want it to be over.

It is not.

You are worked to no end with no real allies as a result of how you disposed of those who would dispose of you, and it is you alone in a palace that is far too large for you. Cael takes over the royal guards, and he lingers by you only when he is not training the others, but it is not enough. You do not have allies in an empty palace far too large for two, and it eats away at you slowly because of a lack of people. It is lonely. You are lonely. You have finally killed the ones who have ruined your life, but you are not free.

Cael watches you as you welcome the magic tower's embassies.

They are welcomed to a tea room, and you sit down with the embassies as they tell you the purpose of their visit. It is marriage. The empty seat of the king consort next to you is empty, and in order to stabilize the kingdom, you would need an heir. It gives you a headache, Cael can tell. He finishes with your tea, and you take it from him with a frown, sighing.

"Well, who do you suppose should be my husband?"

They recommend one of the tower mages. It would be beneficial for the child to possess magic abilities, and you meet them, the mage smiling at you gently. He is sweet, Cael finds. You are treated like glass and porcelain and spoiled to the ends of the earth, and for a second, Cael thinks you will be fine this timeline. You will not die like the previous times. You will get to live a long and healthy life with a doting husband, and the kingdom will slowly revitalize itself. That is all Cael asks for. No more marks on your skin, no more tallies on your thigh, no more cycles for the both of you.

You get married after establishing your new husband's status, and the nation cheers at the celebration, newspapers flying out and selling out about it, and you bear an heir, a young boy for the throne. You live a long and happy life with your husband. Cael watches as you age and your son ages, and he watches as you send people off before your son is by your bedside and on the throne. He possesses magical abilities that could only be borne to parents who both have the ability to create, and it amazes Cael when the young prince lights up the empty palace walls with a simple flick of his fingers.

Perhaps you know how to do magic. After all, you had never been taught or learned how to.

"Do you think you could break my curse?" You squeeze your son's hand while at tea, humming.

"I could not." Your son whispers. "It is a curse that we have examined and found it is too hard to break. It would need to be someone like the first archmage."

"Then will I be cursed to live like this forever? Is there really no ending for me in sight?" You mumble. Cael helps the two of you pour more tea, and your son shakes his head.

"I can not. I am sorry." He pauses. "In your next life, perhaps seek out the archmage instead of father. That might be of help."

"I see." You mutter. "Thank you for being born my son."

"Thank you for loving me." Your son squeezes your hand affectionately.

You are sent off with people who love you. The mages live longer than humans, and even upon your dying breath, your husband presses his forehead to your fingers, muttering gentle spells to keep the pain from getting too close to your heart. You die of age— something Cael now sees as a luxury for you. So, he sits by your bedside with the rest of your family, heart clenching in his chest as you thank him for his service. He does not have long either. He will be following you shortly after, but you do not know that. But for the time being, he kneels by the side of your bed.

You run your hand through his hair one last time, and he leans into your touch one last time.

He can not covet the things he does not own. It is not for his owning. You are not something that could be coveted by a mere knight like him. He is the object coveted and owned by you. To you, he is nothing more than a mere tool and perhaps a dear knight. To him, even on your deathbed, he is below you on his knees, resting his head on the edge of the plush in order for you to be affectionate with him one last time. That is all he craves, and that is all he knows. He will never be the one you pick, simply because he does not have the knowledge to break your curse as the others do.

You close your eyes as he stands up, and he closes his eyes with you. "I will see you back in your room, master."

A maid is sent out to announce the death of the queen, and in the distance, the same bells as before chime.

Time's up.

🕓.

The fifth time you regress, you head straight for the magic tower.

Though you are clumsy and unlearned, they let you in simply for the magic affinity you have accumulated through your many deaths. You take in the words of your son whom you will never meet again, and you pass the entrance exam when they discover your magical ability is beyond comprehension. Even if you are not an immediate mage, you will be a subject of study. Cael enters after you, leaving behind his sword and title of Lord, fingers cool against the orb as it proclaims him to share the same amount of magical ability.

"I did not know you had magical properties." Your lips quirk up slightly at the same color.

"Wherever the master goes, I will go." He mumbles, nodding at the mage. "It is my duty as your knight to protect you."

"Which includes secretly hiding an insane amount of magical ability from me?"

"It never arose in our conversations." Cael smiles. "Let us go."

You study hard, working closely with the higher-ranking mages to crack the situation of your curse. It is observed and studied, but ultimately, nothing comes up in the magical index. You read through some of the books on it in your free time, but the vast majority of your days are taken up by fleshing out your research and doing studies. Cael has more free time, fingers flipping through the books as he looks for the content of your supposed curse.

Perhaps it was a blessing, but it is not his place to say.

If his master believes it is a curse, then it is a curse.

Then, under Cael's radar, you find yourself grow closer and closer to the archmage, somehow breaking past his rude facade. Cael does not ask if you did it purely for survival reasons or for personal gain, but he is happy for you. You will be cursed to repeat the cycle again after the two of you pass, and it does not hurt for you to continue finding romance and loving people. It is simply the truest way you live— loving others and being loved back.

Love is a luxury for the both of you. You both know that.

So, as you spend your days with the archmage and Cael finds himself further and further away, he worries about your safety at times. You may be strong and consistently have a magic lining that prevents you from being stabbed, but it is still worrying. So, he moves all of his books to your shared room, flipping through them and completely tuning you out when you're making out with that archmage of yours.

At one point, Cael realizes that whatever circle has been drawn on you is not a curse.

So, he changes sections to blessings, something that would have been revered as the ultimate gift of the universe. You are immortal and able to live again and again. It is a cruel cycle, but it is immortality in a sense. Cael flips through the pages of the book as he leaves you be, confident that the archmage would be able to protect you when he is not there.

He narrows it down to the last books in the archive, and he has tea with you, another mage pouring the tea for the three of you. Cael feels there is something off about the maid, but he doesn't speak up. There is no need to worry over trivial things. You are not the archmage nor someone who is desired to be disposed of. It could have been simple jealousy.

He supposes it's both of you's fault for forgetting how jealous women could end up.

You press the tea to your lips, listening to Cael as he tells you the details of what he's discovered about your curse so far. You press the tea to your lips, sensing something about is off, so you put away with drinking it. You listen to Cael as he tells you it's a blessing rather than a curse, and perhaps the only way to undo it was to undo the blessing itself.

"I see." You pause. "So it is a blessing?"

"According to earlier works." Cael hums, tea pressed to his lips. "...what a waste of good tea."

"I know, right? Well, did you figure out which book has it? I'll just steal it in my next life."

"You're letting yourself die to the poison?"

"I will, after you call for the archmage."

Cael gets up to call for him, mentioning that you were the one looking for him, and the archmage steps into the tearoom, lips pressed to your cheek as you take a sip of the poisoned tea, spitting out blood and dying in his arms dramatically. The scene amuses Cael, his lips curled upward in amusement, and he watches as the archmage directs his anger of your death onto Cael, and the silver-haired man holds both of his hands up, pointing at the maid who had been trying to run away, unable to unlock the spell put on the doors by Cael.

He watches as the archmage kills her on the spot, blinking twice and then laughing.

In the distance, bells chime as the archmage reaches for Cael's neck.

Time's up.

🕔.

The first thing you say when the two of you return to your bedroom on the sixth time you regress should be confusing to Cael, but it makes him laugh more than anything.

"Damn. I really wish I got to see him go ballistic."

Cael laughs. It is a laughter that breaks past his chest into his stomach, his whole body shaking as he tries his best not to make a sound that would make him come off as suspicious. Instead, you raise a brow at Cael in amusement, lips curled upwards as you laugh with him, something in your eyes telling him that you knew. Neither of you addresses it, but you both know. It is funny to no extent, but it is hysterical for the both of you. There is an endless cycle in the world, and the two of you are cursed to live it forever.

You do not bother going to the magic tower. Instead, you simply steal the book Cael was reading and read through it instead. You will return it when you finish it, you swear. In this life, you do not pick, you wait. Romance is not a necessity to you anymore it is not your problem, you swear. So, even as you lock yourself in your room with Cael to try and trace the magic circle back, try to undo the curse that has been placed on you in your day-to-day life, it is impossible.

Then, a marriage proposal makes way to your door.

You are to be wed to a minor duke in order to strengthen their status in high society, and you look at it, really wondering if you should be getting married when all you were doing in your day-to-day life was fighting for your life and trying to remove the seal from your skin. Cael helps you, his magic affinity visibly larger than yours, his magic carving into the spell as the two of you try to undo it before your supposed prospective marriage partner arrives at the mansion. His magic is cool against your skin, now that you think about it.

"Madam? The junior duke has arrived." A maid knocks at the door.

Cael helps you up, and you greet the man.

"You are the one to be engaged with me?"

"Yes. I believe." You hum. "What made you decide upon my house of all?"

"You are... alone." He swallows. "Perhaps you need protection, though your knight is a grandmaster."

"From?"

"The other nobles."

It is a poor excuse to marry into your house to covet your wealth, Cael finds. You hold the wealth of two of the richest families in the kingdom, so it would be normal to want to marry you for such, but you are not stupid. You smile coyly, pretending to frown. There is no one in the nation that could be wiser than you. Perhaps that is what makes Cael's heart twist and turn with some twisted sort of wanting. He is the only one who has gone through everything with you— whether it be through your death or your suicide. Perhaps that is what makes him think the nobleman is not enough for you.

Yet, you accept it anyway, curious to see if his household's history could help with your curse.

Your wedding is comparably plain to the man from your previous life, and you spend your days in the new library, flipping through old books with Cael as the two of you sit at the tables and ladders, still minimal knowledge known about the curse. The maids whisper about your infidelity with Cael as he glares them down, but your husband pays them no mind. You find that it is much quieter than it has ever been. Considering your husband's status as second-born, you do not need to do things that a typical duchess would need to.

Yet, both you and Cael know the story that is to come.

"My older brother died." Your husband tells you. You blink at him and nod, attending the funeral as both you and Cael find that it was a poisoning. The human mind is greedy, the two of you suppose.

"Are you going to divorce me for the woman at the reception?"

"You've been having an affair with your knight for years and I have turned an eye. I shall simply bring her in as a mistress."

"There will be a divorce or no mistress." You speak. "Pick."

"Then her." He clenches his teeth. "Had I known you were to be this selfish, I would have not married you."

"You only married me for my wealth." You turn to leave, and Cael steps forward as your husband tries to pierce a sword through your body. His sword goes flying as Cael saves you in time, the magic spell on your body activating at the action.

"Witch!" Your husband screams.

"You know, Cael." You pause to think. "I kind of want to burn the mansion down."

"Whatever my master wants," Cael turns around to kneel, "master gets."

The mansion erupts into flames as your husband screams, the maids rushing out with what they could in the chaos, and you watch as the flame starts burning your skin.

"You should go." You mumble. "Go live."

"I can not." Cael whispers, smoke filling his lungs as the two of you lay down in the ashes of the mansion. "For wherever you go, I will go. Wherever you dwell, I will dwell. I am yours to use and to keep. Without you, there is no me."

"So you follow me back each time I pass?"

Cael wraps an arm around you as you use the last of your strength to curl next to him.

"I'll see you in my room."

"I will meet you there, master."

In the distance, merged with the roaring flames, the same bells as always chime.

Time's up. For both of you, this time.

🕕.

The seventh time you regress, Cael is leaning over you, his hands caging you into the frame of your bed, hair falling off his shoulders as he stares down at you. You blink back up at him, waiting for someone to say something. This is new. Usually, when you return, Cael is at your door staring at you. He stares down at you, and neither of you move for the silence that haunts the two of you.

"So?" You raise a brow. "What is the meaning of this?"

"I was going to see if you would hit me." Cael sits back up, getting off of you. "What will you be doing this life?"

"Do you think I could just rot in bed for the rest of my life?" You yawn. "Do nothing."

"You could try something new."

"Like living as a commoner..." You pause. "First world problem."

"Yes." Cael hums. "That would be a little... inappropriate."

"Yes." You pause. "Perhaps I could just not pursue romance."

"You know that will not happen." Cael pauses. "Perhaps a new man?"

"Perhaps my old husband." You close your eyes. "I miss my son."

You do not find your old husband. You find a friend, heart ringing in your ears as you smile at her, the two of you running around the field of grass as Cael watches over you. The sun burns in her eyes as you take her hand in yours, the wind in your hair as you press your forehead to hers. She is as dazzling as the stars in the sky could dream to be, and the world is as sweet as divine nectar when you are with her. The world bends and cries according to her will, and you find that you are no different than the other people who love her.

Cael cooks dinner for the two of you in your friend's home, kitchen utensils clattering as he uses his magic to manage everything at once. The two of you stay hushed up and whisper stories to each other under the stars, and the three of you have dinner together in your friend's little room. There is not much told to you about your new friend. You know she is sweet and gentle like the bumblebees are with the flowers, loving like the grass and morning dew, free like the birds are in the air. She is everything that you once wanted to be, and her existence meant the world to you.

Cael sees that you see a fragment of yourself that you've lost over your lives in her.

"What would you do if you could do anything?" You whisper to her in your shared room, the stars twinkling outside as Cael leans against the door on the other side.

"You're funny." Your friend laughs. "I would spend every moment of my life pressing my fingers onto your skin and loving you until there is nothing left."

"Really?" You mumble.

"You?"

"I would..." You drift off, and Cael knows you have closed your eyes to avoid your friend's. "I... I don't know. Perhaps I would spend every moment of my life as your best friend."

Your friend laughs, music to your ears, and you smile at her foolishly.

"The moon is gorgeous."

"It sure is." You hum.

You are not allowed to have good things. Cael watches as your friend wakes up one day coughing blood out of her lungs, and as a doctor is called in, Cael watches as your heart breaks and your eyes go wide. You are the fault. You are causing her decline in life because of your magic affinity. You are destroying her and eating her alive. You, her best friend, her soulmate, are eating her alive. You are destroying the very thing you love because you love it.

"I'm sorry." Your voice cracks, terrified of stepping close to her. You stand at the door, head hung as she sits in bed.

"It's alright. Please—"

"I can't." You mumble. "I won't let myself."

"I am fine." Your friend insists. "I would rather spend the last of my days being with you than letting the guilt of eating me inside out destroy you. If it is you, then I would be more than willing to pass out of love."

You step closer to her, kneeling on the ground as you lean into her touch.

"Besides, I find this ending to be much better than being recollected by the family who had abandoned me to be married off for connections." She laughs, lips curled upwards.

"Do you think I could find you in my next life?" You close your eyes. "Are we soulmates in every life like this?"

"We are not even soulmates in this one." She whispers. "You may not see it, but your soulmate is not me."

"Then I shall make it you." You close your eyes. "I shall claw my way past fate and destroy the books and tear the quill that decides our fates and carve our names in the book of life."

"That is not possible." Your friend laughs, illness visible in the way she is thinning. "Perhaps we will meet again in your next life. Do not bear the guilt of destroying me because you loved me. It is a beautiful thing‚ to be loved."

"It is a terrible thing, to destroy the one whom you love." You whisper, taking her hand as you help her settle into the pillows. "I will not subject you to such a death in your next life."

"I pray that we will meet again. Whether it is in a fleeting moment or a long escape into the field, I pray that we will love as genuinely as this again."

She closes her eyes.

Cael plans the funeral. You are too struck with grief to do anything, and he borrows your name to help bury your friend in the same field of flowers the two of you ran through. The two of you bury her in a field of flowers, your shoulders shaking from the intensity of your tears, heartbreak everywhere on your skin as you come to terms with the loss of your soulmate, your soulmate whom the world had been so cruel as to tear from your fingers and bury her in the same earth that everyone was borne from. No amount of magic could have saved her, you know. Yet, you blame yourself anyway, the guilt of everything clawing at your skin and destroying you. it is a cycle that Cael recognizes from your first two regressions.

"Bury me with her." You growl, lunging for her coffin as it is lowered into the ground, and Cael holds you back, his own heart twisting painfully in his chest. "LET ME GO. I COMMAND YOU, LET ME BE BURIED WITH HER! I WANT MY SOULMATE BACK—"

Cael releases you, and you continue to thrash in his grasp as you sob into the earth by her grave, the two of you sitting there until you catch a cold and are forced to return to her home. You have a raging fever, the lack of will to live eating you alive, and Cael nurses you slowly and patiently, concern trickling out of his skin with each bite of congee you eat, and you whimper, heartbroken as you sit up in her bed and stare out the window.

"I wish to return." You mumble. "Cael, kill me."

Cael's fingers twitch. He can not disobey you, but he can not obey you either. He does not want to obey you. Yet, bound by his oath, he draws his sword. He stares into your eyes. You weep for someone who had become so significant in your life in such little time. You did not weep for your first nor second nor any of the lovers you have had in the past, yet you weep for the girl who had been your soulmate. Cael was not your soulmate. It did not matter what he felt for you. At the end of the day, you are not his as he is yours.

"Please do not do this to me." He whispers, voice breaking.

"Kill me. Now." You whisper.

"How would you like it?"

"Kill me the same way my soulmate died." You hiss out. "Curse me until this wretched body of mine is worth nothing but dust just like hers."

Cael lets out a breath, dropping his sword as he laces his fingers with yours.

As you turn thinner and thinner, as his magic eats away yours the same way you ate away your soulmate's, he understands why you were so struck with grief.

"I love you." He croaks, watching as you close your eyes.

In the distance, the same wretched bells that have rung every single one of your deaths clang.

Time is up.

🕖.

Cael slumps against the wall as the two of you return for the eighth time. He sits on the ground, and you lay in your bed, and there is a heavy silence that hangs in the air. Nothing is worth anything. Everything is worth nothing. Cael had killed his master per your orders, and you had killed yourself for the love of your life. The two of you do not know what to do.

"Knight." You speak up first, voice filled with a lack of spirit that Cael had found terrifying.

"Yes, master?"

"Bed me."

Cael pauses, blinking at you, unsure if he had heard you correctly.

"Do not make me repeat it twice." You hiss out. "Bed me."

"Perhaps you have gone insane." He unclasps the sword from his belt, wedging it between the boards as he climbs on top of you. "Master. Why would you ask a mere knight as I to bed you?"

"Bed me." You hiss. "Make me forget that I am stuck in a wretched cycle and cursed to destroy everything I love. Carve your fingers into my skin so that I may remember that in this world there is only you and I and no other. I am not to fall for anyone else. Even when I do, there is no ending."

"Is that not cruel to your servant? You do not love even me."

"You are my knight. You are mine to use." You swallow thickly. You do not believe your own words, but Cael does not pry. So, he lifts you into his arms, fingers gentle as he unbuttons your nightgown, fingers cold against your back, helping you slide out of it as he rests his head in the crook of your neck for a moment.

"What may I do?"

"Whatever you must do to make me forget." You lift your hips, and he unbuttons his top, swallowing slowly as he slides his hand up your thigh, tapping twice. You watch as he swallows thickly, his fingers tugging at the waistband of your panties, dropping them on top of your ditched nightgown. You stretch as your now exposed bottom half brushes him slightly, and he freezes in place, eyes focused on your pelvis as he closes his eyes to get rid of the discomfort. His feelings. He has to put his feelings aside. It does not matter. His feelings must be put aside. You are his master, and his only job is to serve you to his uttermost.

So, he lifts your leg, pressing a kiss to your ankle as he pulls your hips to meet his, his fingers, brushing your clit to test the waters, resting your calf on his shoulder as he slides a finger in, curling it slightly as you arch your back. His fingers make a mess of you, one finger becoming two, his heart racing in his chest as you whimper and dig your nails into the sheets. It is not enough, Cael knows, but it is also only the beginning. His skin would paint every cell of your body with his, taint your purity with some twisted impurity that belonged to him. Until his darkness would swallow your light whole, there would be nothing left.

And even when your head is relaxed to the side and he has prepared you for him, he longs for nothing short of the entirety of you. He longs for himself to be engulfed in your light, until the darkness that was tainting your soul was completely absorbed by him, until there is nothing left of your curse but fragments of memories that you would get to take to your grave. He longs for you to become a star in the sky as you have always dreamed, as you had told your stargazing husband so many lives ago.

Cael will forever be a knight to you. So, even when he is buried to the hilt inside of you, his size too big for you as you whimper for him to halt, even when he brushes your hair to the side and presses a kiss to your skin, he is simply a knight to you. He is a servant who will serve you until his dying breath, a breath that will never come simply because of his existence. Through his sword, his life was in your hands, his skin engrained with your name, and if his master wished to return to the dust of the earth, then so be it.

He will forever be a knight, but even with the sight of you blissed out at his antics underneath him, he loves you. His heart burns and bursts and rots for yours, his soul flickering and engulfing everything that comes his way except for you. To him, you are everything at once, the only reason for him to be of worth. You are the one who has given him a purpose, and he is in love with you foolishly and stupidly, but it is not something that can be reciprocated. You do not love him back. You call others your soulmate and your husband, but never him. To you, he is just a knight for your use.

"I love you." He croaks, desperation and longing staining your skin alongside his fingers, his nails digging into the plush of your waist as your head is thrown back in ecstasy, head muddled in the clouds at your servant's antics. You can not hear him, but it does not stop him as he continues thrusting into you, a mess of bodily fluids sullying the sheets, his nails digging into your skin as his hair slides off his shoulders on one side from his movements. His movements become agitated as you clench around him for the nth time, eyes rolling so far back your skull that perhaps someone fears that your eyes will get stuck. Yet, he makes no means to stop, not until you are crying his name and begging him to stop.

Your nails move to his forearms at some point, and his eyes roll back as you tighten around him like a vice, grip strong as his name falls off your lips in broken syllables, begging him for another release, and who was he to deny you?

At some point, the sun sets, and you are fast asleep, your exhaustion engrained in the silk of your sheets, and Cael wipes you down with a rag from the maids, the servants unsurprised at your antics. He forgets how much you had used him in your first life. Though, that remains to be a past that he would not touch upon. You still did not love him, so he supposes there has not been much of a change.

"Cael?" You mumble, shifting as he wipes your face.

"Yes, master?"

"Water." You mumble, and Cael lifts you to have you drink, and you press your lips to the cup, puffy from Cael's own. "Thank you."

You rest up again, and Cael finds you dead in the morning when he wakes up, your breathing gone.

It was not a poison nor a murder— it was simply that your body had given up in bliss.

In the distance, Cael thinks the chimes sound like wedding bells.

Though, time is up once more.

🕗.

The ninth time you regress, you tell Cael to stay put.

"We shall separate this time." You speak.

Cael listens, sending you off in the dead of the night as he returns to the magic tower to continue his reading. The archmage is weary of his magical abilities, but he makes no move, his fingers flipping through the pages as he does his research at the same time, sending you letters with his magic. You do not write back, but he knows you receive them. Perhaps you are with your soulmate again. It is not his worry. His master had commanded him to leave, so he did.

Your curse is engraved in the forbidden archives of the magic tower. He is granted permission after his research reaches a point, and the archmage hands him the key to further his research. Cael spends his days sitting in there, reading through a man's diary— a man who bore the same curse as you did. He flips to the final page, and the indication of the man's death makes Cael pause. Nothing had changed. Rather, the mage had mentioned unsealing the curse through many lifetimes, before eventually passing away of old age. The indication of no other books meant that this man was back to dust.

Cael studies the magic left behind, trying on objects, watching as everyday objects created to not break down broke down. To reverse a blessing meant to create a curse to counter it, Cael finds.

It is intriguing.

It would take a while, and it had taken the mage hundreds of regressions to figure out both the spell and the execution, but Cael would not let that happen. You will pass in next next handful of lives, he promises you that much. So, he engrains the contents of the book in his mind, requesting to be let out of the magic tower so that he may find you. You are still his master, after all. You had told him to separate from you, but not to leave you forever. The archmage grants him that much, and Cael sets way to find you.

You are in a forest.

The evergreen trees surround your little cottage, a small flame burning inside at your fireplace while you have left to forage for the day's food. Cael is glad he has at least found you, standing outside your door as he waits for your return. Even if he had to wait an eternity, he could afford it. So, he continues flipping through the book he has replicated, only pausing when the sound of footsteps echoes in the wind into his ears.

"Cael." You stop. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to test out a hypothesis." He smiles. "To let you return to dust."

"Is it really that easy?" You laugh, opening the door to let him in. "Shall we have dinner together?"

He nods, unclasping his robe as he steps next to you to help with the food. You do not use magic while he does, and he helps you cut while you manage the heat of the flame, and neither of you speak. It can wait. There is no need to exchange words in such a hurry when you are so close. Whether it be in this reincarnation or the next, Cael would stand next to you. He has stood next to you for the past eight, after all.

"Do you still remember your first life?"

"Before my regression?" You hand Cael a peeled potato.

"Yes." Cael hums, magic working as it peels itself. "Before any of this."

You pause, staring down at the rest of the potatoes you need to wash. "...yes."

"We used to cook like this." Cael hums, having you sit down as he finishes with the rest of the veggies. "And the maids would yell at you for tainting your gentle hands, but we still snuck out in the middle of the night to do it anyway."

You hum slowly. "I suppose so."

"Did you enjoy that life?"

"I did not." You mumble. "It was a life where I was raised for the sole purpose of being somebody's bride, only to not be proposed to at all because of the cruel rumors the maids spread."

Cael hums, putting the lid on the pot and setting a spell on the pot to alert him when it is finished.

"I quite enjoyed it." He smiles. "I have enjoyed every life I have spent next to you. I believe that is the word."

"You've changed quite a bit." You hum, tapping the table as you rest your cheek in your palm. "You have grown much more emotional."

"Is that such a bad thing?"

You pause. "No. It is quite... interesting. I am glad you have been beside me for all of these lives."

"Do you miss the children you once had?"

"Sometimes." You pause. "But it is quite alright. After all, one had killed me, and the other had wished for nothing but my own wishes. I do not miss anyone else."

"Not even Naledi?"

You freeze at the name of your best friend, grimacing. "I watch her in the fields."

"I noticed you live close to there." Cael nods, pulling out the utensils from the cabinets, handing a set to you. "Is she faring well?"

"Very much so." You hum. "Though, she had moved away a while ago. She has married, I suppose."

"Was it a carriage that came?"

"It was the crest of the magic symbol."

"Ah." Cael pauses. "Perhaps it was..." Cael does not want to finish the sentence.

"I am aware, that my ex-husband has married her. Though, I cannot call him that in this life." You hum. "You?"

"I have buried myself in the archives. The forbidden ones, to be exact. I have found your curse."

"Will undoing mine undo yours?"

"It does not matter." Cael shakes his head. "As your servant, my only job is to grant your wills."

"I see." You look up at the pot as the magic sparks. "Do you cook in the tower?"

"We have a chef." Cael unlids the pot, and he flicks his finger at your bowl, the ceramic floating up as he fills it with the soup. "Have you been cooking?"

"Yes." You mumble. "It is rusty after so many eons of not cooking, but it is food."

"Perhaps you could hire me as a chef as well." He smiles. "Shall I undo the spell right now?"

"You're planning on killing us both this time, huh?" You frown at the soup.

"I am not. I simply must return to the tower by nightfall."

"Ah. I apologize for making you wait."

"It is normal for a servant to wait for their master, no?" Cael gets down on one knee next to you, taking your hand in his as he traces a small symbol on your skin. "Though, this means you will live a shorter and shorter life in each regression."

"That is fine." You whisper. "I can live for hundreds of years, after all."

"Very well." He completes the circle as it glows some wretched purple, and Cael stares up at you, setting sun in your hair as he smiles. "I shall see you back in your bedroom?"

"Will you not stay to eat?"

"The sun is setting." He presses his lips to the back of your hand. "Eat well, master."

You nod as he disappears, a gust of ice leaving with him.

Cael does not live long after that. He assumes you had made a mistake with one of your plants, and when he heads to his quarters for the night, he hears the chime of bells in the clouds.

Ah, his time is up once more.

🕘.

"Come on." You stick your hand out to Cael in your tenth regression. "The curse."

Cael listens, kneeling at the side of your bed, fingers gentle against your skin as he traces a different circle on your skin, glowing a dark purple as he stares up at you, sealing the magic with a gentle press of his lips to the back of your hand. "Anything else you require, master?"

"Since I am passing soon, I suppose I should do something I have not done before."

"How about becoming a knight?" Cael blurts, eyes widening at his own brashness. "Ah, my apologies. It is a hard—"

"Where do I sign up?" You pause. "No. Take me to your headquarters as grandmaster. I would like to try it."

"You will need training first, master."

"I have wielded a sword in my past life. Let me attempt." You barter.

Cael gives in, sending you to the door of the academy, heading to the principal himself. His return is easy, and he is returned his sword from his days on the battlefield, watching as you have to defeat the rest of the knights who have been training for eons to possibly enter the academy. He nods at his past comrades as he settles down next to them, and he listens to them speak on each one as he watches you.

You are clumsy, but your experience leading a revolution does not go unseen.

"She fights like someone who has seen war." One of Cael's coworkers leans in. "Is she the one who you were bought by?"

"Yes." Cael hums. "Her background is a little murky to even me, but I am surprised at her talent."

He is not. He has seen you kill people without hesitation in order to become queen of the kingdom, and he has seen you bash a man's skull in with a dulled axe. If there is a death out there, then you would bring even that to its knees. You look up at one point to wave at Cael, to which he only grants you a small smile.

You pass the examinations, body strong enough to handle only the minimum, but enough to handle it nonetheless.

You move through the ranks quickly, and Cael no longer gets to see you as often as before, busy with training his own group of students. He finds it is easier to form bonds this time around. His many lives have taught him to read people with eerie accuracy, but his many lives have also taught him how to feel something. He takes his students out on trips to train in the grass and gives time to relax. They are allowed to feel something rather than obey his every word. It angers some of the other generals, but it does not affect him. Perhaps this is what people with power get to live like.

His students are still the top in the academy, after all. Though, it would be a lie to say he does not miss you.

He finds that some of the students in your group are too busy flirting with you to focus properly. You swat them all down, and Cael finally gets to witness this in action, his lips curled upwards as he meets eyes with you while someone has you pinned against the walls. You do not want him to do anything, so he leans against the other wall quietly, watching as you turn the guy down.

"One chance. Come on. Do you really think you're still at top value after turning so many men down?" He sneers. "If you don't accept me—"

You kick him in his groin, knocking him to the ground as you step on his chest, staring down at you with a glare. "Say that again, you shitty piece of scum?!"

"You're not at top value—"

"Knights." Cael speaks up this time, looking at you and then at the guy underneath you. "Is something wrong?"

"She's hurting me!" The guy decides to play the victim, and you scoff.

"Cael—"

"Grandmaster." Cael corrects, nodding.

"Grandmaster Cael." You deadpan. "He damaged my honor by insulting my name, and I was simply paying him back."

"I was telling the truth! No man wants a woman as brash—"

"Do not speak out of turn." Cael waves his hand for you to take your foot off of the man's chest, and he watches as the man scrambles off. "It is a shame. I was willing to give him a chance to explain himself."

"Men like that only prey on me because they think I'm an easy target."

"How have you been?" Cael speaks up, watching as you dust off your uniform.

"It has been alright." You hum. "It is nice not to be treated and revered because of my status. But it is also a pain in the ass to be harassed by the men in my class."

"Would you like to join mine?"

"And get told that you go easy on me? No thank you."

"We will die in war this time around." Cael lowers his voice, glancing around. "You and I both know that."

"Yes, for the honor of the imperial palace, we will be sacrificed in war." You pause. "What if we win?"

"Then that will be something else." Cael pauses. "Then we will be left with no crown prince."

You purse your lips. "Right."

"We will see when we get there." Cael hums. "Good luck with training."

"There is not much in terms of luck." You sigh. "Thank you."

Just like your past lives, the rebellion takes place. Your unit and Cael's are sent to the frontlines, and Cael hands each child a silver tag with their name on it, hidden in the depths of their pockets to be used for identification. It is something he has lived to see once, and it is something that he will live to see a second time. He will lose people, and it will affect him this time.

Though, even in times of war, Cael finds that people tend to get bolder.

"General Cael..." A girl is pushed in front of him by her friends, and he raises a brow.

"Yes, knight?"

"It is a time of war... so I thought I would," She swallows, and Cael knows what comes next. "I like you. I've liked you for a long time."

"I cannot accept these feelings." Cael sighs. "I am far too old for you, and we are at a time of war. It would be cruel to accept them. You will find that they are fleeting emotions in the future."

"I know." She smiles. "There is a rumor that you have a crush on your master."

Cael freezes in place before shaking his head. "She does not love me."

"But you did not deny that you love her."

"Yes." Cael trails off. "Feelings are bound to bloom after spending so long together, after all."

The girl dies on the battlefield, and Cael creates a flower out of his magic, leaving it in place of her sword as he returns to the barracks for the night. The loss of his students is not easy, he learns. It had been different when he could not feel, but now that he is sitting in the very seat that his mentors had been in, he finds that the loss of one soul after the other is never easy.

You open the entrance to his tent as he is preparing to rest.

"Grandmaster." You whisper.

"Master." He mumbles back. "What brings you here?"

You ditch your jacket, straddling him on the edge of his bed as his hands stay by his side.

"Cael." You whisper. "Kiss me."

"That is hardly appropriate for me to do as a general, knight." Still, he makes no move to push you off of him.

"Tomorrow at dawn, the crown prince will ambush my camp." You whisper. "My general has evacuated the vast majority of the people, but I will be one of the knights to stay behind. I have located the quarters of my ex-husband, so you must kill him so that I may kill the crown prince tomorrow."

"We can not guarantee a win even with such."

"Once the leaders of the rebellion pass away, those who were on the fence will inevitably leave now that they have no morale." You whisper, slipping a folded paper. "This. This will be the plan. I have not run it by my general, but you are the general of this other camp. Please, Cael. I have no other but you."

"And if you pass?" He closes his eyes. "We can not guarantee anything if you die."

"I will not die. I have cast magic this time." You whisper.

Cael hums. "Very well. Good job."

"So, general? Can I get a small reward?"

Cael reaches up for your cheek, pressing his lips to yours briefly before letting go. "If we win, I can guarantee something better."

You grin at him, laughing as you disappear with the wind.

Cael's army sets out in the early hours of the morning, and Cael makes haste to simply kill your ex-husband, and he finds it appalling that the man in the tent is not your second, but your fourth. It makes his blood boil, and he scoffs. Your second husband had not killed you because he wanted to. He had killed you because your fourth husband had gained enough power to destroy anyone who fought him's life. So, for your past lives and for his peace of mind, he kills them both, blood staining his white gloves and clothes as he emerges from the tent, both of their severed heads in his hand.

The rest of his army clears and captures the camp, and a letter makes way to him as he reads of your success in killing the crown prince.

The war is won.

He returns to the king and accepts his second title as grandmaster, granted the land that he has received from the deceased duke. Perhaps he would have been scolded for killing instead of capturing, but it was disposed of. Cael watches as your general is honored as well, unconsciously looking into the crowd of soldiers to look for you. You are not there. Perhaps you had not wanted to see your first husband again, but it was not an issue. Wherever you go, he will find you.

He finds you underneath a tree, a pill in your hand as Cael emerges from the trees.

"Master." He kneels by your side, holding out his hand for the poison. "What brings you here all alone?"

"I was thinking of resetting." You hum.

"What about your prize?" Cael raises a brow.

"I can collect that in my bedroom."

"Then, at least grant me the honor of passing with you." He lodges the poison between his teeth and lips, leaning in as you press your lips to his. He bites down on the pill, poison sinking into your mouth as the two of you die kissing.

There are no bells for Cael this time around.

🕙.

In the eleventh regression, you find yourself spread open for Cael once more, tears in the corner of your eyes from overstimulation, lower stomach in knots as your eyes roll back in utter bliss. You are in heaven, you believe. You have won a war in your past life, killed the man who had ruined your life, and now you are coming undone on your knight's fingers as he draws another magic circle on your skin, lips pressed to your skin as you shake underneath him.

"Master," He whispers, humming. "won't you look at me?"

"You're like a spoiled dog." You gasp, arching your back as he curls his fingers in you.

"I promised you a reward." Cael hums. "You wanted it. I am simply fulfilling my master's orders."

You get your reward, skin crawling with goosebumps by the time he's done, a mess in your sheets as he lifts you up to place you in the bath. The maids stay outside of the bath as he washes you up, and your sheets are changed in the short time that you are in the warmth of your bath. Cael washes off after you leave, and he leaves the maids to change you as he sinks into the water, exhaling slowly. He is your knight to be used, and unless you order him to, he will not be your lover.

He dresses himself, stepping next to you as you stare out the window, some sick form of longing visible in his skin, snaking around his neck as it suffocates him, his eyes on the plush of your visible flesh, no better than the men in the streets. So, he tears his eyes from the warmth of your body, staring ahead as you wonder aloud what you should do in this life. You do not wish to be part of the rebellion again, but you do not wish to rot away either. You must accomplish something, anything.

"How about visiting the next empire over?"

You pause. "Can I start a war there?"

Cael would like to tell you no, but you have the beauty to, so he can not lie.

"I'm going to start a war in this life." You pull him down for a gentle kiss, his eyes going wide as you call for the maids to prepare for your journey. There was a banquet going on in the next empire over, and perhaps you could see Naledi again. So, you pack your bags as the two of you send note of your visit, and Cael watches as you are welcomed by the emperor himself, a smile on your lips as you greet him. He does not know if you were joking or not, but perhaps it is not worth it.

"Do not do it, master." Cael mumbles.

"I won't." You hum. "Maybe I should become a pirate."

You do not, and you spend the rest of the year in the empire, watching as your past kingdom falls to ruin, and you purchase a small home in this empire, only attending banquets with the same dress you had brought, never spending too much nor doing too much. You are waiting for someone. You are waiting for Naledi, Cael finds. Even now, you can not let go of her.

"Perhaps the next banquet," He prepares to escort you home, but you stay, eyes glued on the door as you meet the new emperor. The new empress walks in, and you let out a sigh of relief at the sight of Naledi.

The two of you greet them with a bow, and there is some form of closure you receive from seeing that Naledi is doing much better without you around. There is no way for her to know that it is you, but there is also no way for her to remember. You will bear the memories of your relationship forever, heart ringing in your ears as she leaves, your eyes never leaving her figure.

"Did you get it?"

"Let us return home." You smile. "We can find a new place to visit."

"How about the sea?"

"Sounds fun." You grin, the two of you packing your things and paying for the ship's ticket. It is supposed to take you to a new place, and though the world is a large place, there is a sense that it will be discovered soon. Though, perhaps not in this life. As Cael is holding onto you and covering you both in an orb of ice so that you may float, the rest of the ship goes under, and you cling onto Cael, laughing as you lean back into the ice, the magic forcing its way out of the water to say afloat on such a bad storm.

The two of you end up in a boat made of ice, and the two of you drift on the water.

"Which one of us will die of starvation first?"

"You." Cael leans back into the boat. "I can live without sustenance."

"You and your immortality." You grumble. "What will happen to you once I finally return to dust?"

"I shall continue serving your bloodline." He smiles. "And then when your soul returns, I will search for you."

"That's kind of sad, you know." You close your eyes. "You should go explore."

"And become immortal? Like a legend?" Cael holds his arms open as you snuggle close to him. You are losing body heat.

"Yeah. That way, if I ever return, I will know who you are."

"You do not even love me." Cael mumbles sadly.

"Not yet." You close your eyes. "See you in my bedroom.

The bells in the distance chime, and Cael stares out as his vision fades to white.

Time's up again.

🕚.

In your twelfth regression, you rot in bed for the first ten days.

"Is there anything else you would like to do?" Cael tilts his head at you as the curtains to your room are pulled open by the maids.

"No." You close your eyes. "I have already done so much."

Cael watches as the maid leaves, and he reaches for your hand, gesture practiced, carving another magic circle into the back of your hand. You let him, eyes closed as you rest in the warmth of your bed.

"You need to exercise, you know." He nags gently, eyes soft on your hand as he finishes, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand, then turning it around to kiss the palm. "Come on."

He dares to violate your personal space now. He should not have this leniency, but you offer it to him. He can only take it for granted. You have only one more cycle to live through. Perhaps he will wait a day or a thousand or centuries before he can see you again, but he would rather cherish every moment that he gets to spend with you. He is a spoiled dog, now that he looks at it.

"Master," He sets your hand down, holding onto your fingertips.

"Yes?"

"What should this poor knight do without you?" He whispers, squeezing your fingertips. "When you are to pass?"

"Be a little selfish, perhaps." You hum. "Is there something you wish to do with me?"

Cael's ears turn red. He can not be selfish to this extent. He can not. He... he can't be...

"Shall we get married?" Cael looks up at you sheepishly.

You sit up, accidentally hitting your forehead on Cael's, his fingers rubbing it with a gentle frown as you pout.

"You want to get married to me?"

"We can live in the nice little cottage you had in your tenth life." He whispers. "And we can wear matching rings."

"Will you grant me a quick death in my next life, then? So that I may return to dust?"

"Of course." He whispers. "Anything that the master wants, the master will get."

"Then yes." You pause. "Though, make sure the proposal is at least grander than any of my previous ones."

"It will he hard to outdo the king, no?" He hums affectionately.

"I'm sure you can do it, my knight." You grin.

You regain your will to move around shortly after that. The two of you board to explore the continent you both passed away looking to visit, and you have fun, brow raised as Cael helps you off the ship, the two of you settling down in a hostel and wandering around the streets. You find that it is not much different from when you had gone around town with Naledi. Though, the food here is much more fragrant, spices dancing on your tongue as you have them, eyes lit up.

"Good?" Cael takes the food from you, finishing it as you look for something new to try.

"mhm," You hum. "You?"

"It is alright."

"Here." You take the food back, and finish it in a bite, licking your lips. "I'd get you some soup, but they don't seem to have lighter foods here."

"That's quite alright." Cael mumbles. "So? Was there something you wanted specifically?"

"Oh, there it is!" You hand the woman two coins as she pulls out drinks from the ice, and you hand one to Cael. "I think you'll like this one."

"Yeah?" He takes a sip, pausing as he raises a brow. "It's good."

"That's good." You pull at his wrist, pressing your lips to the straw, taking a sip. "Alright. I just wanted a sip. Do you want skewers? I think that's what they're called."

"I'm good." He follows after you, straw pressed to his lips as you look around and stare at the small trinkets. Cael wonders how he's going to propose to you. Perhaps he could make a grand ring, but it would not be worth much. If he buys something mass-produced, then he would be an awful lover. Though, he glances at the store tucked behind one of the shops, snapping his fingers to cast a self-defense spell on you as he heads in. That ring.

He needs to get that ring for you.

The purchase goes smoothly, his words sweet as he tells the jeweler that it is for his lover, his eyes gentle as he snaps his fingers, bag of gold manifesting with his magic. The jeweler blinks at the money handed to her, and she shakes her head profusely. Cael takes the ring and the box, waving at the jeweler as he makes his way back to you, stepping next to you as you show him the soup you've just obtained. You feed it to his lips, and he smiles, laugh on his lips as he hums, the drink you bought him empty now.

"Was it really that good?"

"Yes." He hums. "Shall we get going?"

Time flies. You finish your little trip and pack to leave, luggage heavier than before, yawning as you step around to get ready to leave. The boxes are packed up as both you and Cael push them to the ship, and he laughs, lips curled upward as he hums.

"What do you think about going back on our own boat?"

You blink. "A... like last time we were stranded?"

"It will be better this time." He promises, lips curled upwards gently. "I will learn wind magic for my master's next life."

You laugh at him, cheeks warm with a life that Cael had not seen in forever. So, he brushes the fallen lash on your cheek as he stares down at you, he finds himself laughing, breeze by the port in his hair as he looks up at you, eyes gentle and warm, brimming with affection as he smiles, corner of his eyes crinkling as you stare up at him.

"Master." He speaks. "Will you go on my boat with me?"

You hum, smile mirroring his. "Yeah."

The two of you stay out at sea for a while, and at some point, the boat stops moving. There is plenty of food the two of you have brought, so you do not worry about starvation, but you can't help but feel that it is so strange to see Cael be so upfront about his emotions for you. You suppose it was inevitable that he would fall for you, but you were surprised that it had taken him such a long time to be selfish to this extent. Perhaps it is the looming worry that you will be gone by your next life.

So, when the boat disappears into a floating platform of ice, you jump in your seat, staring at Cael as the ice hardens under your feet. You stare down and then back up at him, confused, head tilted to the side as you let him step close to you, his fingers gentle on your face as he brushes your hair, lips curling upwards as he kneels, and it gives you the same sense of deja vu you got from knighting him so many years ago. Yet, this kneeling is for a different purpose, you find.

"In this life and your last, in your sickness and my death, will you do the honors of letting me be the one to cherish and hold you close?" He pauses. "Whether it is as your knight or as your beloved. Whether it is as a penpal or your chef, and whether it is as your curser or blesser, will you let me cherish you until you return to the dust of the earth and know nothing better?"

The sea breeze ruffles your hair as you look down at him, cheeks and ears flushed, warmth creeping up your neck as you find yourself breathless, and Cael waits as your mouth forms words, baring all your teeth in your smile as you give him your answer.

"Would any master say no in this case?"

Cael fishes out the ring, sliding it on your fingers as you stare at it.

"It's so pretty." You mumble, staring in awe, barely noticing the way the ice platform has returned to a boat. "When did you buy it?"

"That is a secret I will be keeping from you," He grins, finger pressed to his lips as you pout.

"Aren't my words absolute?" You pretend to frown.

"Not when it is my proposal." He hums. "Let me cherish you this life so you may pass quickly in your next one."

"Alright." You hum, closing your eyes as Cael holds you close. "Can you kill me with poison in my next life?"

"You would like to be poisoned?"

"It would be fitting as I died that way in my first life, would it not?" You pause. "Perhaps something to grant me a quick death. Maybe to pass in my sleep would be nice."

"Alright." Cael whispers, pressing your fingers to his lips, bottom lip brushing over your ring. "Where would you like the wedding?"

"Do you think the king would let us get married in the glass chapel?"

"It does not hurt to ask."

You get married to Cael, his hair done up as purple flowers decorate the venue, your lips curled upward as a smile that forces your eyes to crinkle sits on your face, an eternity past spent with him, and the short eternity future to be spent with him. You get to live a long life next to him, your skin turning wrinkly and old with age and Cael staying the same, but his eyes and touch ever fond with the same gentleness that has never changed even now that you are no longer at your prime.

You wave goodbye to your kids, and Cael sends them off with a nod.

"Phew, I'll have to see you in my bedroom soon." You frown, staring in the mirror. "I can feel my death approaching."

"Do you believe we are soulmates, dear?" Cael sits next to you by your bedside, and you smile.

"Perhaps." You close your eyes, sighing. "Maybe Naledi knew all along."

"Perhaps." He closes his eyes with you, and in the distance, the same bells that chimed on your wedding chime again.

Time is up at last.

🕛.

"Would you like to do anything before you pass?" Cael is the first to speak in your final regression.

Perhaps thirteen is an unlucky number, but it is not his problem. He slides your sleeve up as he carves one final circle into your skin, and your chest glows a dark purple, symbolizing the completion of the curse. You stare at your hand, then at Cael, lips curled into a sweet smile. You reach for him, wrapping your arms around him wordlessly as Cael hums into your skin, the vibrations soothing against your flesh.

"Cael."

"Yes, master?"

"Call me dear." You hum. "Ah, I would like to be buried with my ring from our past life."

"I shall do that." He nods. "Would you like to repeat our past life?"

"I do not mind it." You hum. "Though, it would be nice to have children earlier. I do not believe I will live as long as I did in my past life."

"Of course." He presses his forehead to yours, humming. "Let us get married earlier as well."

Cael finds the ring in the same place as before, handing the clerk the same amount of gold, a smile on his face as he returns from his vacation, offering you a pretty bouquet of flowers similar to the ones at your wedding, the ring attached to the center rose, and you laugh, cheeks warm with affection as he slides the ring back on your finger. There is no wedding this time around, just a simple registration and wedding gown, the same white and violet flowers in your hair and his suit, his lips pressed to your ring as the two of you spend the night together as you had in the past.

Cael looks into magic to control pain, and you find that it is so much more soothing to deliver a child with your husband's icy hands on your back. It is almost as if he had learned it so that there would be as little pain as possible this time around. You find that it may be annoying, but knowing what each of your children would be like was much better than expected. Their fingers cling onto yours as you watch them grow up, your body aging faster than your past life, your children only young adults when you turn old and frail.

So, when you call them all to your room, Cael still next to you and brushing his fingers over the back of your hand; you laugh.

"I'm passing soon." You hum. "It is a shame, but I will not be able to see my grandchildren this time around. Perhaps Cael might, but it seems that..."

"It is fine." Your eldest pauses to stare at Cael. "Father will be free once you pass. He will find you again."

"Like he always told us he would." Your second chuckles. "Though, we may not be alive to see you."

"I'll miss you." Your youngest steps next to your bed, taking your other hand. "We will miss you, mother."

"I will miss you all as well, but..."

"But you will be put to rest." Cael nods. "There will no longer be a repeat of the past, and you will no longer be forced to live in a world where you are cursed to return again and again."

"Yes." You smile. "Now, shoo. I wish to have a word with your father."

"Stay in the tearoom. I shall discuss burial when she passes."

Your children exit the door, your eldest looking back one last time. It is strange to see such a young man smiling at an old woman so affectionately. One might mistake him for your grandchild, but it would not be the case. He may not have gotten much affection from his father, but it was evident that Cael loved at least you with his whole heart. Perhaps he will look at someone with the same amount of affection in his eyes one day.

"So?" Cael raises a brow, holding your hand to his cheek as you hum. "Where would you like to be buried?"

"In Naledi's flower field that we purchased off her hands." You close your eyes. "Please tend to the flowers each time you return from your travels."

"Of course." He closes his eyes as you close yours. "I love you, dear."

"I love you too, Cael." You hum. "My beloved."

This time, there are no bells to chime nor time that has run out.

Cael tells your children about where you wish to be buried, and your children comply, gathering for a small funeral as they bury you in the dirt where you had wished to return, and Cael finds himself hugging his children for the first in a long time. It is hard to lose you, he knows, but he is aware that you will return sometime soon. Your soul will wander back into the people who are close to him, and even if you will not recognize him, he would protect you until the very end. Thus, as he sends his children off one by one, handing the family seal to his eldest with a gentle kiss to his forehead, he hums the same lullaby that they had grown up listening to.

"Come visit. The residence's walls are always open." His eldest looks up at him through tear-stained lashes, and Cael nods.

Once all of your children are gone, Cael removes his sword and places a bouquet of preserved flowers on your grave, tightening his coat as the winter snow falls, your frail body buried back into the earth, returning to the dust that it was made of.

And though you are gone now, Cael will find you again as he always has.

After all, you are his master, his lover, and his object of affection. just as he is your knight and beloved.

#☾.nsfw #yexuan x reader #cael x reader #lovebrush chronicles x reader #☾.fics #lovebrush chronicles #reader insert #for all time #for all time x reader

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