#☆ i cried writing this

[kzrosa-writes]

remnants of a lost love for a ghost | dottore x reader

prompt: after four hundred years, you are reunited with your past lover, except he wasn't the same person you used to know

notes: angst, no happy ending, mentions of blood and swords, mentions of death n killing each other, dottore is an emotional mess, aether is the traveler, more angst

a/n: this has been in my drafts for almost a month... i am proud to say i finally finished it! im such a softy for dottore so it was hard to write something so sad for him 😭💔

word count: 6k

Dottore had never been one to fall in love. He always had his priorities straight: his experiments, his role as the Second Fatui Harbinger, and his pursuit of knowledge. Everyone knew Dottore as the cold-hearted, cruel and apathetic Second Harbinger, a man who values the results of his atrocious, unethical experiments over the lives of humans.

Yet, he found himself frozen in place as he stood before you, the only person he had ever loved. You held yourself with grace and confidence, striding towards him from across the snowy lands of Snezhnaya. You held your sword firmly in your right hand, the tip of the metal grazing against the ground below you with each step you took. An old memory from his past, his lover during his time in the Sumeru Akademiya, was now standing right in front of his very eyes.

Y/N L/N... You were known as the prodigious traveller who fought alongside the legendary traveller Aether — you were the Fatui's most formidable enemy, and the very person that he was meant to fight and kill.

Dottore could feel his chest tighten at the sight of you. It had been over four centuries since he had last heard of or seen you after he had been expelled from the Akademiya for his immoral and unethical experiments. You still looked as beautiful as he remembered all those centuries ago, although much has changed about you. Your once-pristine skin was now decorated with scratches and battle scars, a reminder of the battles you had fought and a reminder of how you got to where you were now. You now adorned a black rose insignia on your waist, a mark that signified your affiliation with the Fatui's most formidable rival organisation.

However, what didn't change was the burning sparks of determination and resolution in your eyes. It was something he could never forget, no matter how many times he tried to forget about you. His eyes lingered all over your figure, his gaze landing on a flower in your hair. It was a Kalpalata Lotus, the very flower Dottore had gifted you during your days in the Akademiya. He still remembered the ebullient smile on your face, how effervescent you had been when he had gifted you the flower. He still remembered all the hours he had spent perfecting the preservation process, ensuring that the flower was perfect, just for you.

He had to hold himself back, to resist the tantalising urge to reach out to you and hold you in his arms again. Oh, how he missed the feel of your skin against his own, your warmth seeping into his heart like the old days. But things weren’t the same anymore. He had to remind himself that you weren’t the same person he used to know and that things have changed throughout the past few centuries. He held his breath, attempting to rein in his emotions.

"Y/N..." Dottore called out, his voice betraying the pain in his heart.

You took a few stops closer, your grip on your sword still firm. "Second Harbinger of Snezhnaya... Il Dottore."

He felt his heart shatter into pieces at the sound of your voice calling out to him by his Harbinger title, your tone cold and apathetic. He desperately wanted to break free from his emotions and the restraints of his title, to throw himself into your arms after all these years, but he couldn't.

With a firm step forward, Dottore spoke again, his voice trembling in the slightest. "Y/N... It has been so long. Do you... still remember me?”

The twitch of confusion in your eyes was more than inconspicuous to Dottore. He felt his heart ache with vigour at the lack of recognition from you. Have you forgotten about him? All those years you had spent together in the Akademiya... did they all mean nothing to you? Was his love for you all in vain?

"We... We used to go to the Akademiya together!" Dottore said, his voice cracking in the slightest. "Don't you... Don't you remember?”

At this point, Dottore was desperate for you to remember anything, even if it were the bad memories. It pained him to see how clueless and indifferent you were, how oblivious you were to the anguish and distress in front of you.

Your gaze hardened into one of apathy. "I don't remember attending the Akademiya with a psychopathic heretic."

As the words slipped right out of your mouth, your eyes widened with realisation, as if a memory had been unlocked from within.

“W-Wait.”

Dottore felt his heart being torn apart. He let out a bitter chuckle as he felt your words stabbing into his heart like a knife. Of course, you had remembered him as the heretic of the Akademiya, just as everyone else in the Akademiya had remembered him as the heretic who performed unethical, immoral and dangerous research and experiments, all in the name of science, and to satiate his naive curiosity.

Your breath was now caught in your throat, coming out in ragged and laboured exhales. You shook your head as if you were trying to deny the reality in front of you.

"N-No... This can't be..." The sword that was in your hands was now trembling with uncertainty. "...Zandik."

There it was: Zandik, his real name, one that meant 'heretic'. He couldn't hold back a bitter scoff at the sound of his old name, a name he had tried so desperately to forget, along with the painful memories of his past.

Despite those painful memories, he can never truly forget the memories and times he spent together with you. The memories of your shared time in the Akademiya were now playing like a montage in his head; the images and memories of laughing together, studying in the library together and working on projects, talking about your favourite academic theories and philosophies... He remembered how close the two of you were, how he could make you laugh easily, the lunch breaks you two spent together by the lush field in Sumeru, and the jokes you shared. He remembered the evenings you spent together by his side while picking flowers in the forest, the soft whispers of love and comfort shared with each other, or the stolen kisses in the dimly lit corridors of the Akademiya... how could he ever forget those memories? His heart longed for those days again, when life was much simpler and when all they had to stress about was deadlines.

Now that he was finally in front of you after all those years, he was unsure of what to do. Dottore was on the verge of breaking into tears, his heart swelling with longing and despair at the sight of your disbelief. With shaky hands, he slowly reached for his mask before hesitantly taking it off, revealing his crimson scarlet orbs — a sight you could never forget despite all the years that had passed.

He slowly took a step forward, trying his best not to scare you away. He had to be closer to you to convince himself that you were really there and not just a hallucination. He wanted to say so many things, mutter many apologies, beg for your forgiveness… but nothing could escape his lips.

It took all his willpower and strength not to succumb to his own desires and longing to reach out to you and break down. Rather, he just stood there, staring back at you with a mixture of hope and despair, two opposites of the same spectrum. He took a deep breath, bracing himself for what he was about to ask of you.

“Y/N… Do you… Do you still have any feelings for me..?”

Your eyes widened in shock, your breath hitching and your grip on your sword tightening more than ever from his unexpected question. You stood frozen in place, unable to move or respond. You had no idea how you were supposed to respond to such a question, especially after finding out that your very enemy and opponent… was the very man you used to love deeply with all your heart and soul. The Fatui Harbinger who had been trying to stop you… was your old lover.

“I-It's… It's been too long.. Zandik. We haven't seen each other… ever since you'd been expelled.”

He closed his eyes shut for a moment, recalling the painful and bitter memories of being expelled and thrown out of the Akademiya, shunned and mocked by everyone. He recalled the feeling of being torn apart, the day he lost everything… including you. It was a day he could never forget, regardless of how much he wanted to. He took a deep breath before opening his eyes, taking one more step further.

“Indeed… It’s been way too long…” He repeated your words, his voice close to a mumble.

He could almost feel how tense you were, how vulnerable and distraught you were. He knew that this was the best opportunity to strike, to end her, to get his mission over with. But no matter how much he screamed at himself to go through with the plan… he couldn't find it in him to do so. He couldn't help himself, he wanted — no, needed — to know your answer. He had to.

“Please, Y/N…” He swallowed anxiously, trying to rein in his emotions. “...Do you still feel anything for me?”

“Are you asking me this as Dottore… or Zandik?”

Dottore's body froze in shock, the question catching him completely off guard. And yet, it was probably the most sensible thing you could ask him. After all, it had been several centuries since you had last seen him. He had changed, and you had too. You knew him as two entirely different people, and he could understand that.

He took a moment to gather his thoughts, hesitantly slightly before replying, “I'm asking you this… as Zandik.”

He knew that this was risky, that his reputation and role as a Fatui Harbinger could be jeopardised by letting his guard down in front of the enemy, but he couldn't care less about the consequences.

You, on the other hand, felt your chest tighten at his words. Your throat was tight, feeling a lump preventing you from breathing properly. Your grip on your sword slowly loosened, your hands trembling ever so slightly.

“I… I do.”

That was it. His heart stopped in his chest at the sound of those two words, your confirmation. Such a simple response, yet it carries so much meaning. It carried all the dreams and fantasies he had always imagined for the past four centuries… It was everything he could have hoped for. And yet, a wave of overwhelming emotions crashed through him like a violent tide in a stormy sea. Just like raging waters, Dottore was suffering an internal maelstrom of relief, joy, hope and desperation. He couldn't believe it. Centuries of desperate longing, of missing you, of mourning your loss in his life… and you were finally here, right in front of him.

He could feel himself slowly moving towards you, his movements in deliberate and shaky steps. It was absolutely excruciating to be so close to you, yet so far. He couldn't help himself, he needed to hold you in his arms again.

But that all came crashing down when he saw you back away, watching you as your grip on your sword trembled with overwhelming shock.

“P-Please…” You begged, your eyes glistening with sorrow and anguish. “..D-Don't.”

He stopped in his tracks, watching you as you backed away. It broke his heart to see that reaction from you, to see how you were clearly struggling to cope with everything. But at the same time, he could hear the desperation in your voice, the plea for him to stay where he was. Somehow… that gave him a small, miniscule amount of hope. He knew that this wasn't going to be an easy conversation, that this would take a lot of courage and strength from the both of you… but he was willing to do it. Anything for you.

He took a deep breath, trying to study himself before speaking again, trying his best to stay grounded and not let his desperation and longing for you show too much.

“Say it again, Y/N. Say it again without any fear, any doubt or any hesitation. Say those words again, and I promise I won't take another step closer to you.” He said, his voice trembling with each word. “Please, Y/N… I need to hear you say it again.”

You exhale shakily, your grip on your sword slowly becoming firmer.

“I… I still love you, Zandik.” You clenched your fist wrapped around the hilt of your sword, your breathing still erratic. “...But you're not Zandik anymore, aren't you?”

His heart clenched when he heard your words, the flicker of hope slowly dying out. It was almost too good to be true. He almost had it, everything he truly wanted, and yet… he knew you were right. He wasn't the same man he used to be in the Akademiya.

“You're… correct.” His voice was soft, almost inaudible. “I'm not Zandik anymore.”

There was no denying it. He was an entirely different person now, and the moments and memories you had shared were too far in the past, so many centuries ago. And yet, the fact that you still felt something for him and confessed your love to him despite all those years apart… he couldn't deny that he still had hope. The fact that you still loved him after all this time, the fact that you hadn't let go of the love you had for him… that was all he cared about in this moment.

Dottore could feel his heart clench and palpitate, his chest tightening with a mixture of love, hope, guilt and desperation. He missed you so much; he missed everything about you, from your voice to your touch to your scent. He missed the times he'd spent with his arms wrapped around you in the forest as you basked in the glory of nature during your midnight rendezvous in your favourite spot of the forest, enjoying each other's presence and warmth in the cold, chilly night air. All he wanted was to hear you say those words again. Those three words, so simple and so short yet carrying such a heavy meaning. All he wanted was to hear that it was him you loved, and not just his former self.

“Please… tell me again. Tell me that you still love me, and not Zandik. I need to hear you say it.” His voice was close to an anguished whisper, a desperate plea. “I need to know that it's me that you feel something for… and not just a memory of someone that no longer exists.”

“I… I can't do that.”

Dottore could feel his heart slowly break apart from your words. A part of him had been hoping, foolishly hoping, that even after all these years, after all the atrocities he had committed as a naive scholar and a Harbinger, you would still feel some sort of affection for him. He couldn't bring himself to speak, his heart swelling with pain and desperation.

“...Why…?”

His words came out as a broken whisper as he felt the resolve and hope in his heart slowly fade away. You still loved Zandik, the old him, the person he used to be all those centuries ago. But somehow, there had still been a part of him that had foolishly hoped that your feelings for him would still be the same after all this time. He was terrified, absolutely petrified, of your answer. He knew that your answer might break him for good, but he had to know the truth.

“I still love you, Zandik… I really still do.” You said softly, your voice was wavering with pain and sincerity.

Dottore could feel his heart swelling with hope and longing, his mind racing with anticipation. Perhaps, just somehow, he hoped that you were willing to embrace his new identity.

Your hands were trembling terribly to the point you dropped your sword, the hilt of the blade knocking onto your foot. You felt your chest tighten and the air in your lungs slowly getting sucked out, holding back an anguished cry. Your lips were wobbling and your eyes were watery, beady crystals threatening to spill loose. Despite this, you managed to voice out in a choked whisper.

“Because… you're no longer the man I used to love.”

He knew he had been foolish to hope that maybe, just maybe, you would be able to accept him and embrace his new identity. But there it was, the confirmation he desperately looked for. Your words shattered his heart into pieces, ripping his soul apart with no way of mending it. He had the confirmation he was looking for about how you felt about him, that what you felt was just love for a man that ceased to exist.

“...And you cannot love the man I am now?”

Dottore’s voice was raw, weak and almost pleading. There was a hint of desperation in his words, as if he was praying that there could be an actual chance that you could still feel something for him, regardless of who he was now. That tiny sliver of hope that ached in the remnants of his shattered heart still flickered and burned passionately. But deep down, he knew you wouldn't, he knew that it wasn't possible. And yet, he still chose to ask that question, a question that could crush his soul further.

“I-I… I don't know.”

A bitter scoff broke the dreadful silence that loomed in the air. He knew what your answer was. He knew deep down that you would never, and could never love the person he was now, no matter how hard you tried. He knew that you loved a ghost, someone who no longer existed in this cruel world. He let out another sharp laugh, a laugh filled with bitterness and harshness.

“Of course. Of course you can't. I would expect you to love someone… like me.”

He closed his eyes for a moment. It was all he could do to keep his composure without showing you the immense pain he was feeling inside. He had been too foolish to hope that there was even the slightest possibility for you to love him, even if it was just a few sparks of affection, despite the person he had become.

You wanted to say something, to retaliate and to tell him otherwise… but you couldn't. Nothing could escape from your lips. You stood there, trembling and shaking, as a single bead of water escaped your lids. You clenched your fist, forcing yourself to not break down. Especially not… not in front of Il Dottore, the Second Fatui Harbinger… and the person you were meant to end.

“...I-I don't know how am I supposed to kill you now.”

Dottore's eyes widened slightly at your words, noticing how your voice was shaky and uncertain. He could see that you were struggling to maintain your composure, how your eyes were watery as if you were on the verge of tears.

“...And why? What's… holding you back?” Dottore took a step closer, his eyes locked onto yours, his chest aching with pain, and a small flicker of hope.” “Why are you so hesitant to kill me?”

You took a step back, more tears spilling. “Stop.” Your voice was shaky, coming out almost as a plea. “Don't move closer, please.”

The sound of your voice saying those words, so desperate and so shaky, caused his chest to ache and tighten further. He stopped in his tracks, watching you keenly as you struggled to hold back your tears. Dottore swallowed hard, trying to pull himself together.

“Why?” He prodded, still staying in place. “Why can't I come closer to you?”

His voice wobbled slightly, his chest aching with a strange mixture of pain and hope. He wanted to be closer to you, to hold you in his arms as he basked in your presence, but he didn't dare to make a move, not while he could see the look of uncertainty in your eyes.

“I…” You swallowed anxiously, uncertainty written all over your face. “...I can't do this, Zandik.”

Dottore winced at the sound of his old, former name, yet a small part of him ached to hear it again. He wanted to hear you say his name, the name he went by now. He wanted you to know him, not the ghost of a man who had long disappeared from this world. He took another shaky breath, trying to keep his voice steady as he spoke.

“Please… don't call me that…”

You clenched your fists, shaking away the tears that stained your face. Your expressions changed from despair to one of apathy, the sparks in your eyes slowly dying down before being extinguished.

“I can't do this… Dottore.”

Your tone was cold and harsh, devoid of any remaining emotion left inside of you.

Dottore's heart twisted inside his chest at the sudden change in your mood and tone, the use of his Harbinger name sounding almost… resentful. It was almost as if you had shut down every single emotion from your body all at once. He watched as you swiftly picked up your sword from the ground, your grip tightening on the hilt. He had no doubt that if he were to come any closer towards you, you'd attempt to slice off his head without a moment of hesitation.

Dottore didn't speak. Instead, he watched you silently as his chest ached from the complete change in demeanour. He couldn't help but miss the moments before, the glimpse of your vulnerability, and the flicker of emotions in your eyes. But now… you were everything but that.

“What do you intend to do now…?” Dottore asked, his voice hesitant. He knew that he was only digging himself a deeper grave, but he could stop himself from trying his luck further and further.

Your fingers trembled as you held the hilt of your blade, your voice soft and uncertain. “...I don't know.”

Dottore could hear the uncertainty in your voice, your inner turmoil evident. That almost let him fill his heart with hope again. Almost. But that cold, harsh tone and the apathy in your expressions held him back. He hated it. He absolutely loathed it. Dottore took a small step forward, ignoring the way your body tensed at his actions.

“What does that mean..?” His voice dropped to a low whisper. He knew he was pushing his luck, but he was desperate for anything.

“I… I can't bring myself to draw my sword onto you.”

Dottore’s eyes widened slightly at your reply, his heart warming up for a small flicker of hope. You couldn't bring yourself to draw your sword on him… perhaps there was still a chance. He took another step forward, the distance slowly closing between you two.

“...Is that so?”

“Don't move any closer.” You said — rather, you commanded. Your voice was firmer and louder, any sign of hesitation completely vanished. You raised your sword in the slightest out of instinct, but something was holding you back.

Dottore watched warily as you lifted your sword, noticing your hesitation. He took another small step forward, trying to keep his emotions in check. “And why should I stop…?”

“Please, Dottore.” You begged, desperation evident in your voice. “Don't.”

He stayed in his place, keenly observing your conflicted expressions. “Why not, Y/N?”

He knew he was pushing it, but he couldn't care less about anything else at this moment. All he wanted was you, to have you back in his life again, to have you in his arms. But your next words hit him hard, the cold and harsh reality of the situation slapping him like a hard brick.

“I'm supposed to kill you, Dottore.”

Dottore grimaced slightly, your words cutting through him like a knife to the heart. Of course, he knew this. He was fully aware that they were still enemies regardless of their past, and that they both had a duty to fulfil. But to hear you say it so coldly, so bluntly… It still hurts.

He let out a soft chuckle, one filled with resignation. “...That's right. You're… You're supposed to.”

Despite knowing this, he couldn't stop himself. You were his enemy, the very person he was supposed to kill. He had to end your life, to take away your soul from this world, and you would have to do the same. Regardless, he still yearned for you, for what you used to share. The thought of you trying to slice his head off pained him immensely, causing his thoughts to swim in an endless sea of despair.

“Then… What is stopping you?” He prodded further, taking another step forward. He was now only a few inches away from you, and he didn't miss the way you flinched fearfully at the proximity.

“I… I can't.” You finally managed to speak, your voice a choked whisper. Your grip on your sword tightened to the point your knuckles were stained white. Apathy and indifference were painted all over your face, your eyes lacking their usual spark.

Dottore stayed silent, his heart and mind racing frantically. Hearing your hesitance rekindled the sparks of his hope in his heart that had been hastily extinguished, with hopes that they would flicker and burn into a bright fire of passion. You said you couldn't kill him, but why? Why couldn't you do it? That gave him hope. Your hesitance gave him the hope he had desperately prayed for, the hope that you still had some feelings for him despite everything.

“...Why not? Why can't you kill me?”

“Don't test your luck, Harbinger of Snezhnaya.”

Your voice came out in a harsh, yet firm command, your eyes showing a flicker of anger. Your emotions were all swirled up together, and you were unable to discern between how you truly felt.

Dottore chuckled faintly, a weak grin on his face. He knew you were close to snapping, but he had to try. He had to see how much he could push you before you broke before him, and he had to do everything he could just for a chance.

“Test my luck? No need. I already know you still care for me.” His voice was firm as he took another step forward to him, your shoes touching.

You took a step backwards, your breath hitching as you clutched onto your sword.

“Stop it.”

“Why should I? After all, you're hesitating to kill me. You care, don't you? I know you still care, Y/N.”

He watched as your eyes twitched slightly, as if you were in an inner state of turmoil. He knew you, he knew you were torn between your duty to eliminate him as his enemy and your lingering feelings for him. He knew he should stop… but he couldn't.

He walked closer towards you, his gaze firm as he locked eyes with you. “You're frustrated, aren't you? You want to fulfil your duty and hurt me… but you can't bring yourself to do it, can you?”

You gritted your teeth, taking more steps backwards. Dottore could hear the soft scraping of metal from your blade as you dragged it against the floor, your eyes staring back at him with a sharp, intimidating glare.

“What's wrong?” He taunted. “Why are you backing away from me?”

Finally, you felt your self-control snap. Every vulnerable emotion you had pent up inside of you completely dried up, leaving only anger and resentment.

You drew your blade to his throat, your stance firm. Your eyes were cold and devoid, as if you were a completely different person.

“Stop it, Harbinger of Snezhnaya.”

Dottore let out a soft exhale, his eyes widening slightly as he felt the cold tip of your blade prodding at his throat, a reminder of the situation and predicament you both were in. The deadly look in your eyes caused him to wince slightly, dreading how different you became after everything. You radiated a dangerous aura, absolutely merciless and angry.

“...And what if I don't?”

He felt the tremor of the blade on his neck, a clear sign of your uncertainty. He knew he was walking on thin ice, but he knew he was close. Just a little bit more…

“I could end your very life right now, Dottore.”

Your words were firm and sharp, like a cold blade close to piercing him. You felt a bitter taste in your mouth every time you spoke his Harbinger name, a constant reminder that he wasn't the same person he used to be. He wasn't the naive scholar of the Akademiya, but the merciless, cold-hearted Second Fatui Harbinger, although he seemed anything but that in that moment.

“Come on… Why are you hesitating?” Dottore continued to taunt you, trying to gauge a reaction out of you. “I'm your enemy. You're supposed to kill me.”

You clenched your jaw, pressing the tip of the blade further onto his throat. You watched as tiny beads of red liquid trickled down his neck, his shirt stained with his own blood.

He hissed sharply as he felt the cold edge of the blade press onto his skin. He knew that he was crossing the line, but he was too far gone now. All he could do now was gamble everything away. From now on, it was all or nothing.

“...Then why aren't you doing it?”

Deep inside, he was starting to wonder if you would go through with it. You had everything set up: the blade against his throat, him in a vulnerable state, and authority over him. But in his heart, he still had hope. Dottore still had hope in you, that you would spare him and slowly accept how things were.

His hope and happiness were ephemeral, shattering and crashing almost as fast as it was formed when you bit back a sharp cry and shut your eyes as you slashed your sword on his shoulder. You dropped the blade, hand trembling from the aftershock.

Dottore had expected this, but he didn't expect the sharp sting that suddenly flared in his shoulder, causing him to gasp in agony. He exhaled sharply, his anticipation replaced with a wave of pain and hurt.

He gritted his teeth as he tried to ignore the stinging pain in his shoulders, letting out a shaky chuckle. “There… You did it, Y/N. You've injured me… So why haven't you killed me yet?”

“God damn it, will you stop?!”

Your sudden scream was sharp and piercing, catching Dottore off guard with your outburst. You clenched your jaw in anger, trying to maintain your composure. You kicked your sword that you had dropped away.

You exhaled sharply as you turned around. You slowly walked away from him, before turning back to face him once more.

“...Don't make me regret killing you… when I had the chance.”

Your words and tone were bitter and harsh, filled with resentment and apathy. You looked at him for the very last time, looked at the ghost of a man you once loved, and looked at ‘Zandik’ for the very last time before walking away. You held your breath, trying to bite back the tears that were desperately threatening to spill.

Dottore was shocked by your sudden words, taken aback by your bitter and harsh tone. He watched as you turned away, walking further away from him. Each step you took felt like a stab through his heart, bleeding with his agony and despair. The sight of you walking away hurt more than the deep scar you left on his shoulder.

He wanted to call you back, to stop you from leaving, but he knew any attempts would be futile. He tried to obviate the need to call out to you, to reach out and stop you from leaving, but his heart swelled with sorrow and regret. Instead, he stood there, watching you walk further and further away, leaving him with a feeling of emptiness and hopelessness.

He felt like his heart was being torn apart, ripped and shredded into pieces. He could see in your eyes that you still cared for him, even if it was just a little. He was thankful, truly thankful, that you had spared his life… but he knew that this decision of yours would forever haunt him until the days of his passing.

He struggled to keep his emotions buried away, to hide them away. But seeing you walk away like that… he felt a drop of water drip down his chin, followed by another. Soon enough, an incessant stream of tears cascaded down his cheeks, dampening his shirt. He felt his shirt being ensanguined with his own blood, the wound caused by your blade crying out with tears of blood.

With that, all his defences slipped away as he dropped to his knees, his vision blurred and his eyes watery. It was absolutely agonising, almost soul-crushing, to accept that you had walked away and left him for good. Dottore felt his body and soul overwhelmed with the feeling of helplessness and sadness, almost unbearable. He had lost you, his everything, and he had no one to blame for it… but himself.

He sat on the ground, his body shaking with silent sobs as he allowed himself to break down and lose himself in agony and despair. He had never felt this way before, completely alone and utterly heartbroken… it was killing him inside. He had lost you, the only person he genuinely cared about, the very person he had been trying to keep himself alive for, the only person… he truly loved.

Amid his breakdown, he happened to catch a glimpse of a silver-blue object on the ground, lying just a few meters away from a shiny metal on the ground, presumably your blade that you had discarded. Clearing his blurry vision, he gazed at the object, and his heart broke and shattered further.

It was the preserved Kalpalata Lotus he had gifted you.

Dottore froze, his eyes widening in disbelief as he saw the Kalpalata Lotus lying on the ground near your discarded sword. He felt another wave of overwhelming pain and heartbreak wash over him, his heart clenching further at the sight of the flower. It was a painful and gut-wrenching reminder that he had truly lost you.

He crawled on the ground, picking up the flower in his trembling hands, holding it delicately as if it was something precious and fragile — which it was. Dottore slowly lifted the flower to eye level, studying it as if he were trying to ingrain it into his memory. He noted the smallest, little details about the flower — the blue petals, the silver veins and its delicate shape. It was all too familiar, all too painful, all too much.

A fresh wave of tears spilt down his cheeks as he held onto the flower like it was his lifeline, the only thing anchoring him from this pain, the only thing keeping him from completely falling apart.

Dottore clutched onto the flower in his hand, the memories of you flooding his mind like a violent stream, each one more painful than the last. The thought of never seeing you again, never talking to you again, never holding you again… it was too much for him to bear.

Dottore knew that he was destined to fall like this. He wasn't the strong, cold-hearted, and merciless Second Fatui Harbinger right now. Instead, he was the young, naive scholar from the Akademiya again. The man you used to love… the person you loved with your whole heart and soul. Right now, he was Zandik, not Il Dottore. In this moment, he was the heartbroken, young boy who had experienced the pain of losing the very person he loved all over again, just like four hundred years ago.

— masterlist ・ navi ・ request rules

[foldingfittedsheets]

Mattresses, unbeknownst to many, are a lot like cars. Every year new ones roll out, they’re always tweaking and innovating and you’ll never find the same one you loved decades ago when buying a new one.

Where I sold mattresses had a three month return or exchange program for this reason. New beds take a while to break in, and they’re a big expense. Your body is used to the old one. So we made sure people were loving it. If a bed got returned we’d take it back, sanitize and clean it, then sell it again on clearance.

To sell these we always had to disclose what clearance meant to customers, and they had to sign that they knew what they were getting. (FYI, not every company is as… forthright about the used bed situation)

In clearance we had beds that were floor models, we had returns, and more rarely we had old models whose line had been discontinued. These clearance beds were always final sale, so a bed could only be sold twice.

Now, the manager at the store I was working at had realized a vital fact. Clearance beds in the warehouse didn’t sell, especially old models that salespeople weren’t familiar with. And even more especially in odd sizes, like twin extra longs. So he set up a split king on the showroom floor to exhibit clearance beds, pulling all those forgotten twin extra longs out onto the showroom.

Almost all of these were brand new discontinued models. Beds I’d never learned in training were exhumed to be displayed. The manufacturers had moved on to new lines and they’d been left behind. Why would he take such in interest in selling old stock, you might wonder? Because we made double commission on the sales margin of clearance beds, and if we’d had a bed long enough they dropped the cost in the system so it was a fucking cash cow to sell these. Even with huge discounts the commissions were wonderful so it was a win win.

When I got started I was jazzed about this program, I was so on board to sell weird old brand new beds and make a ton of money. I had a wonderful older couple come in, looking for a split king adjustable set. This was a white whale sale.

The current clearance models on the floor were a latex mattress that was brand new despite being of an age to start first grade, and a tempurpedic floor model. The couple laid down and it was like magic. They each loved the bed they’d laid down on. They wanted to buy the whole shebang.

I. Was. Thrilled. I told them about the clearance program and what that meant, and they weren’t bothered in the least. I wrote up the sale then dashed into the back, fizzing with excitement to tell my manager what I’d done.

“You sold the death bed?!” He asked in delight.

I pulled up short, my smile freezing in place. “What…?”

“Didn’t you check the notes?”

I hesitated for a long beat then slowly shook my head. You see, dear reader, all beds had a personal history. Every clearance bed had logs written up by the person who took the return, as well as warehouse crew after sanitizing. It helped us know what to expect when selling them. “Wasn’t it just a floor model? You said it was a floor model…”

He slowly shook his head. I checked the notes.

It turned out, it had been sold as a floor model. The first time. But the company had made an exception and taken it back as a return two months later. Why? Because it’s owner had passed away.

I stared at the computer in horror and my manager shrugged. “They signed the clearance form. Technically it was a floor model.”

“We know for a fact that a man died in that bed!”

“What they don’t know can’t haunt them,” he said philosophically.

The man came back a week later for more sheets, utterly delighted to tell me how well they were sleeping. I clamped my teeth down around the secret of the deathbed, choosing to let them love their new bed without the stigma. Only one person would be haunted by that deathbed, and it was me.

[fairydrowning]

Quote to Owner / Somewhere, There's a Party by Holly Warburton / "The Prophet" Book by Khalil Gibran / Quote to Owner / Spirit Hold by Holly Warburton / "Freak" Book by Jonathan Harnisch

[sttoru]

satoru hates seeing you cry, yet there’s also something beautiful about it. the fact that you’ve chosen to be vulnerable around him makes him feel protective over you. he wants to hold and cherish you until he can’t anymore.

“it’s fine, baby . . . let it out. ‘m right here,” he coos, wiping your tears away with the pad of his thumb on your right cheek. his lips catch a taste of the salty drops on the opposite side.

you’re gorgeous—always have been and will keep being—but you’re even more so when you’re holding onto him like your life depends on it. satoru’s hand rubs your back up and down, his other massaging your nape.

it may sound bad, but he’s secretly hoping that the moment continues forever. your pretty eyes sparkling with tears are a sight to behold, as well as your pouty lips. he wants to kiss your worries away and show you that he’ll love you no matter what.

“you’re going to be okay, mhm?” satoru mumbles as he places a kiss against your forehead. once he sees you nod and look up at him, a warm smile instantly forms on his glossy lips, “so fuckin’ pretty. keep lookin’ at me like that.”

of course, who or what ever made you cry will be held accountable one way or another, but your boyfriend doesn’t mind comforting you for a bit longer.

just to admire you.

[baeshijima]

being married to duke!blade is a feat inconceivable to many.

overseeing the northern region where monster outbreaks are high and temperatures are low, he is feared by many for not only his undeniable battle prowess, but also his cold and dismissive demeanour. from all the stories and rumours passed down from those who battled alongside the duke, it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say his mere presence alone is sufficient enough to take on an entire army.

but despite his infamous personality, the young duke had made rounds within high society when he first showed his face. he was handsome, having that rugged appearance expected of a blood-soaked warrior residing on the battlefied, yet beautiful with a haunting allure — those crimson-marigold eyes of his can simultaneously bewitch an unassuming victim and bring the most prideful of monarchs down to their knees.

and, as expected of someone with such descriptors, many of the nobility found themselves drawn to him in spite of the rumours which clung to his very being. noble ladies wished to be the first he ever danced with, while many families seeked to gain even a morsel of his power through arranged marriages. relentless as they were, none succeeded in swaying the stone-cold duke.

and stone-cold he was upon your first meeting, albeit in… less than fortunate circumstances.

having meandered around the foresty northern borders not too far from where your family estate is, you certainly were not expecting to stumble across a rotting corpse smack-dab in the middle of your path! okay, well, rotting may not be the most suitable term, but the slumped body, battered and bruised and bloodied, you accidentally kicked was very much a corpse.

you had contemplated leaving the body there but, upon seeing a bloodied insignia of an all-too familiar ducal household, you decided you wanted to live a little longer. of course, this led to you lugging a slumped, muscle-packed warrior of a man all the way to where your estate was, heaving and huffing with your body trembling under the weight.

(to say you were just about ready to collapse when the family knights spotted your emerging figure was no understatement!)

whisked away into a guest room near your own, your parents called for the family doctor immediately. when the blood was cleaned and his wounds were wrapped, the sight of his injuries mending themselves was sure to be a sight you would never be able to rid your mind of. it was a strange but intriguing phenomenon to see his skin stitched anew, that horrid sight of him collapsed in the forestry almost like that of a dream.

your father immediately sent word to the duke’s estate to notify them of the circumstances. in the meanwhile, the man of the hour was unconscious for three days. seeing as how you were the one to find him, you took it upon yourself to help look after his well-being. changing his bandages, regularly wiping the accumulating sweat with a freshly damp cloth, ensuring the room is well-ventilated — you did the lot!

(sometimes you would stare at his resting face, wondering just how much more handsome he would be with his eyes open; only to retract that sentiment when recalling the tales about how his eyes could burn a man alive. exaggerated or not, he is still a dangerous individual you would rather not further entangle yourself with.)

with his people having retrieved their master from your care, promises of hefty compensation for taking care of their lord ringing in your ears, you were ready to sweep the whole ordeal under the rug and never get yourself involved with a man like him again! after all, he is the fearful duke responsible for your region, while you’re just another noble within his domain.

so, naturally, when you first heard of your soon-to-be marriage, you thought your parents did something to offend him and were sending you as a sacrifice meant to appease his wrath.

because, well, why else would the very same duke infamous for having zero interest in romantic and political marriages be sending a letter for your hand in marriage of his own accord? being unconscious the entirety of the time made him unable to see you, let alone know your family, so of course that meant his staff had filled him in on what happened. but why would he initiate this proposal without even knowing who you are first???

(did you get a say in this? no. would you have refused? yes. did your parents care about you and your well-being? aside from their apologetic gazes at your slack-jawed reaction and somewhat rational reasoning of “his grace may have an infamous reputation, but he is not a cruel ruler nor man,” you would like to deny the parental affection they have given you thus far in favour of objecting the claim.)

well, no matter. there was little time to prepare for his arrival to your estate, as the letter stated he would be arriving to escort you himself.

after much fuss over your clothing and luggage, the day arrived; you were going to see him again, except this time, he would see you as well.

a regal carriage entered the estate’s gates. the door swung open. a black gloved hand was the first to appear, followed by a ducked head of long navy hair, a familiar figure donning a freshly pressed suit and black overcoat, and finally — finally — a pair of burning crimson-marigold met your own gaze.

you weren’t sure if it was the adrenaline of your fight or flight response kicking in or the butterflies which ruptured within you that caused your heart rate to increase, but you found yourself unable to tear your gaze away from him.

he stopped in front of you, the features you once saw up close felt more complete than ever with the addition of his eyes open.

and thus, with your palm settled atop his outstretched gloved one, your fate was sealed.

(man. was this the compensation the staff were saying to you as they left…?)

that was two years ago.

savage. cold-blooded. inhumane. brute. monster. these were some of the ways in which duke blade was described. the man who currently sits on the edge of the bed watching you dress his wounds, however, is much different than the public opinion.

ever since exchanging vows at the altar and slipping sacred rings of matrimony onto each other’s fingers, you have come to know many sides of blade you never thought possible.

and while he rarely spoke in the beginning, his actions spoke louder than any voice could ever hope to measure up to. and, eventually, he became more vocal in regards to his feelings for you, just as you have with yours upon witnessing firsthand his true character.

from his battle-haggard, near manic state when on the verge of succumbing to the curse before falling into your healing embrace, to his tender fleeting touches and ever-adoring affection repressed within his gaze when in the presence of others, you have seen it all.

the process of getting to know and understand the intricacies of his life is almost like unravelling layers upon layers of thin bandage wrapped tightly around a gaping wound, hoping to block out the vulnerabilities which could be exposed. it was rocky at first, you being in an unfamiliar environment while he had his own inner battles to deal with first and foremost, but time carved its path for the two of you to partake in talks lasting late into the night, a subtle fondness growing more pronounced as familiarity grew alongside it.

and, of course, the time he returned from a subjugation battle-worn and mind having been overriden with mania. it was the first you’d seen him in such a loss of control. knights were rushing to subdue him while the servants desperately tried to usher your bewildered form some place safe, as though this had been a common occurrence well before you came into the picture. that hadn’t gone as planned, however, as the moment blade’s heaving figure locked eyes with you, a state of chaos ensued the moment he broke through the wall of knights with ease and appeared in front of you. no time was wasted when he lunged, a panic chorus of cries following suit as you remained rooted in place.

while you would never forget the blown-out, near-animalistic look in his eyes as he drew closer at an impossible speed, the gentle — almost reverent — manner in which he embraced you then, rigid body instantly relaxing against you, would forever be the turning point of your relationship, as well as a long-cherished memory of his first true feelings.

a dull sensation poking the space between your brows snaps you out of your thoughts. “stop frowning. i’ll be fine like always.”

your hands pause in their ministrations, hovering over his bare torso where you finished tying up a bandage. a blink and a sigh, another swab of disinfectant is in your hands working at the wound on his bicep.

“but that doesn’t mean i like seeing you return to me wounded,” you mutter bitterly, blatantly ignoring his stare. “i know you can take care of yourself, what with that regenerative ability of yours, but i still worry over you. you can still feel the pain, after all, and not to mention that curse—”

a swift tug forward abruptly cuts you off, your words fizzling on the tip of your tongue as a familiar warmth encases you in its entirety. instinctively, your hands grip onto his shoulders, the coarse material of bandages not unfamiliar to your touch, while blade’s hands are splayed across the expanse of your back as he holds you against his seated form.

his nose nudges along the slope of your neck, the shape of your jaw, the contours of your face, a trail of soft kisses leaving searing imprints in its wake.

a deep breath, a ticklish sensation, a thrumming heartbeat.

and when he rests his forehead against your own, crimson-marigold eyes dyed with devotion and seeping ardour, you think the world will be okay.

(even if it were to burst into flames and be reduced to ash, if it means you would be by this man’s side for a little longer, you think it will be okay.)

[torsamors]

On Seatbelts and Sunsets - Hanif Abdurraqib

[buckiverse]

Missing You Always

based on the steal a moment phone call!!

☆--- paring: sylus x reader

☆--- summary: Your marriage to Sylus has been a challenging one because of your long distant status. Sylus is determined to remind you that distance can't diminish what you share. He reassures not only your mind but also your body, reminding you why you're meant for each other.

☆--- word count: 4.5k

☆--- warnings: mdni, slight angst, there's comfort don't worry, soft!dom sylus, you take a bath together, oral sex, fingering, doggy, back shots, bit of background story, sylus is an eater ok..., (he eats your cum), size kink if you squint, no protection is used (wrap it before you tap it)

☆--- a/n: i had to get this one out quick because rafayel is quickly taking over my brain ngl.

Just a couple of months before, you married Sylus. He has certainly lived up to (and well beyond) your expectations. While he is the perfect loving husband, your current situation is less than favorable. You knew what you agreed to in this marriage, and you knew the first few years would be difficult, but it did not stop you from feeling a pang in your chest when you arrived home, and your lovely husband was not there because, well, he is still in the N109 Zone. 

You walked into the front door of your shared home with Sylus, but then again, was it? He is never here during the week. You had both discussed it plenty in the early stages of your relationship, but that did not make the adjustment any easier now that you had moved back to Linkon. Being a hunter was difficult for you, mind, body, and spirit. 

Despite your feelings, you fought to hold on until the weekend. You knew Sylus was coming home to you soon. After work tomorrow, you would go home, and your lover would be waiting for you. That thought made you smile. 

You strolled into your home through the grand entryway, maneuvering through it to find the living area. Walking through the arch, you looked above your head to see the chandelier suspended above the coffee table. Turning your head, you observed the ceiling-to-floor windows, admiring the sunset. 

Your imagination took over, the thought of walking in tomorrow, noticing the lit fireplace, candles throughout the room, and the signature scent of vanilla being carried throughout the room. You’d know without a doubt that he was home. Your gaze would be drawn to the kitchen where Sylus would be standing. Maybe he got a gift for you, he usually does, something that reminded him of you during your signature five days apart.

“I miss him,” you said aloud reluctantly. A sigh escaped your lips, and your hands covered your eyes, leaving you feeling the somber silence around you.

A few beats of silence were interrupted by Sylus’s signature ringtone. Pulling you from your mind, you shifted quickly, searching for your phone. Making your way to your work bag, you pull the phone out of the front pocket before swiping “accept” on Sylus’s phone call. 

Sylus: "You have no idea how much I’ve missed this—just hearing your voice, sweetie. It’s been way too long. Feels like forever since I’ve had you all to myself." You: "I know, baby. I’ve missed you too. Every night, I go to bed wishing you were here." Sylus: "Soon, though. Tomorrow, it’s all about us. You and me, finally. I’ve been counting down the days." You: "Me too. I remember the last time we were together…our little movie night… I loved it so much." Sylus: "Yeah? Well, tomorrow, I plan to make it even better. We’ve got catching up, and I’m not just talking about our dinner date, sweetie. I’ve been thinking about you non-stop. I miss touching you, holding you… just being with you." You: "I can’t wait. I’ve been thinking about it all week. Just the thought of being with you makes everything feel right." Sylus: "Good. Because tomorrow, the second I walk through that door, I’m not letting you go. No distractions, no interruptions, just you and me. How’s that sound?" You: "Sounds perfect. I’ve been dying to just… be with you again. Really be with you." Sylus: "Good. ‘Cause I plan to remind you how much I’ve missed you in every way."

☆---

"Hey, Sy! Are you almost here yet?" Your voice carried a hint of strain as you focused on dinner preparations. You had cubed some steak, and the hot grease sizzled and popped back at you while you basted the meat with a rich butter-garlic mixture, ensuring each piece absorbed the flavorful glaze.

“Yes, Kitten. I should be there in a few minutes, but check the door; there's a gift for you outside.”

“Oh! Okay, I didn't know. I’ll go look.” You disconnected the call with Sylus and went to the front door of your house. You saw an absurdly large box waiting for you as you opened the door. You maneuvered the box inside, wanting to open it. You grabbed your knife, tearing through the tape on the top. Once opened, you saw the little white note inside waiting for you. 

“For our date.” The simple cursive of the letter made you raise an eyebrow till you bent down and opened the box. You found face masks, bath bombs, moisturizers, oils, candles, and anything you could have desired.

“Ah, so he planned a self-care night. How cute!” Then you heard the door creak open, causing you to turn around. You dropped the items swiftly back in the box, overwhelmed with emotion.  

“I’m home, my love,” he said sweetly. A large smile instantly plastered your face at the sight of him, and you ran into his arms. You could admit that while you were growing used to your hyper-independence, you missed him. His scent, his touch, his presence. How your days to weeks apart made your heart grow fonder was amazing.

You ran to him, jumping in his arms. He caught you quickly as you gave him a tight hug. “I missed you,” you whispered into his ear, pressing soft kisses to his ear lobe. He shuddered at the feeling of your kiss, his eyes falling closed. You pulled your head back to look into his eyes. The heat of your soft kisses ran through him as he opened his eyes to meet yours. He placed his forehead flush against yours, a smile appearing on his face. His hands tightened his hold on you. 

“Oh, sweetie, you don’t want to know how much I wished I could come to you this past week,” Sylus said, his eyes dropping to your lips. Holding you with just one arm, his right hand caressed your face. Your face flushed a bit. The look in his eyes said even more than his words. His thumb brushed your bottom lip, “I missed this,” he said, kissing you languidly, almost like you were frozen in time. “And this,” his hand moved, tilting your chin upwards and to the side, pressing a taught kiss to your jaw. “This,” he tilted his head and kissed your neck slowly, starting where your jaw meets your neck, down to where your collarbone begins, before his teeth found your skin, nibbling on it gently. 

A rough breath came from your lips. The feeling of his lips and teeth on you always felt amazing. “Sylusss, let’s finish dinner. I smell it burning,” you said, smelling the cube steak slowly turning into burnt steak.  

He kissed you once more and nibbled on the skin by your collarbone. “Okay, we wouldn’t want dinner to burn now, would we?” he laughed, placing you on your feet. You turned around and made your way to the kitchen, still feeling flustered by how he kissed you moments ago. 

Sylus followed closely behind, his presence warm and comforting. You carefully plated the meal—tender, butter-basted (slightly burnt) steak cubes, roasted vegetables, and creamy mashed potatoes. The rich aroma filled the kitchen, the perfect mix of savory and satisfying.

"Smells amazing, sweetie," Sylus murmured as he leaned against the counter, watching you with that familiar, teasing grin.

You handed him his plate, the warmth of the food almost matching the heat between you two. Together, you carried the plates to the couch, where the night would begin. The soft lighting in your house casts a cozy glow, setting the perfect mood for the evening ahead.

"Dinner and a show?" he teased, settling beside you, his eyes lingering on yours.

You laughed softly. "Something like that. Let’s just say… we won’t leave this couch for a while."

Sylus raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "I like the sound of that."

You both dug into the meal, the flavors rich and comforting, but the real excitement lingered between each bite, the anticipation building for the rest of the date.

The movie you chose to accompany your dinner was a sad romantic comedy. It may not have been the best choice because now you are trying to keep tears from falling from your eyes. You wanted to enjoy your time with Sylus, not cry over nothing.

But you couldn’t help yourself. The movie discusses a couple struggling to navigate their careers. They got pulled in different directions and did not end up together… It was eerie; it was too reminiscent of your current insecurities.

You turned your head, looking at Sylus, who was already turned towards you. His brows furrowed in concern. “What’s going on in that pretty little mind of yours, hmm?” he said, bringing his hand to rest on your cheek as he slowly stroked your face. 

His tenderness and compassion for you were mind-blowing. His never-ending patience was world-shattering. A tear fell from your eye, wetting his hand. “Is this going to work? I don’t want to end up like them, Sylus.” You finally met his fierce eyes, forcing yourself to hold contact as you shared your insecurity with him.

“Listen, this isn’t forever. It's hard now, but it is temporary. I will make sure of that, " he said, his voice strained at the sight of your tears. He pulled you forward to hug him, and his embrace instantly comforted you. “I promise,” he whispered into your ear, placing the softest kiss on your earlobe. 

You pulled back ever so slightly to look him in the eyes. “I trust you, Sylus,” you said, sniffling and wiping your face. He smiled at you slightly, and your admission meant much more to him than you’d ever know. 

“Let’s continue our date. I found those face masks you’ve been texting me,” he offered. “I saw! Where’d you even find those,” you exclaimed and lightly hit his chest. You both laughed together, feeling a bit lighter now.

You shifted to your shared bathroom, which had quite an industrial feel. The walls were covered with deep blue tiles, and the floor was a patterned blue tile, which beautifully complemented the gold and brown accents throughout the room. Walking on your bare feet, the tiles felt cold under your feet, chilling your whole body and giving you goosebumps. 

Sylus followed behind you closely. The brown box rested in his large hands as he placed it on the wide granite counter. He unpacked the box, pulling out the candles, face masks, oils/lotions, and bath items. 

You walked behind him, grabbing the candles and placing them around the large bathroom. The scent of a sweet candle promptly filled the air, spreading through the room. You turned off the warm lights, allowing the candles to be your light source. 

Further setting your space for the date, you turned on some smooth jazz—something you and Sylus would appreciate. Playing instruments was not an easy feat, as you would know after your multiple failed attempts at playing the piano. 

Walking back into the bathroom connected to your primary suite, you saw that Sylus had begun to draw bath water for you two. His hand was wading in and out of the water, monitoring the temperature. You just watched as he worked. He had fresh roses in a plastic bag on the floor next to him. He picked them up, removing the petals. The red roses filled the white bathtub, some resting atop the beautiful bubble bath he made for you two.

“Do you need help getting ready for the bath?” He said suddenly, turning his head to look at you, a slight grin on your face.

“I could use some help,” you said playfully, a pout forming on your cocked head. 

Sylus stopped the bath water and was now ready for you two to share. He made his way over to you and stood tall before you. You lifted your arms, and he moved to lift your t-shirt above your head, tossing it somewhere in the bedroom, leaving you in a lacy black bra. You watched his eyes shift downward to your chest before looking you in the eyes. He laughed a bit, knowing you caught him looking.

“Your turn, Sy,” you said.

“Whatever you say, Sweetie,” he replied playfully. He lifted his arms above his head, knowing damn well he was too tall for you to pull the shirt above his head. So, instead, he moved to his knees, making it easier for you. You reached down, pulling his casual shirt over his head, leaving him shirtless, on his knees for you. Your eyes widened a bit at the sight. You’d never get over this.

“Now, these must go,” Sylus said. He was hooking his large fingers into the waistband of your black leggings and panties. He pulled them down slowly, leaving you in just a bra before him. “Always so beautiful for me,” he said, desire filled his eyes. 

He reluctantly stood to his feet, standing at full height as he moved to unclasp your bra. “May I?” He whispered tenderly against the shell of your ear. 

“Of course, baby,” you said softly. You heard the click of the bra behind you, your breasts falling as they left the support of the bra. 

Sylus stepped back, looking over your nude body. 

You flushed at his gaze, lifting your arms to cover your body. “The bath is getting cold,” you said, suddenly feeling shy in front of your husband.

“Let’s get in, sweetie,” Sylus said with a grin, swiftly slipping off his sweatpants and briefs. He lowered himself into the bath, the water rippling as he settled in, leaving space for you to join him.

You stepped into the hot bath, the warmth enveloping your legs as the water sloshed with your added weight. Steadying your hands on the tub's edge, you guided yourself in, sinking fully until your back rested against Sylus’s broad chest. The hot water worked wonders on your tense muscles, soothing the stress from both your bodies.

The demands of your careers, the physical toll of your work as a hunter, and the mental strain of being apart all faded away at this moment. This was exactly what you both needed: to be close and together.

Closing your eyes, you leaned your head to the side, resting it on Sylus’s strong bicep. You lost yourself in the feeling of him, ignoring the soft glow of candles and the distant music. None of it mattered as much as the sensation of his body against yours. You could feel the rise and fall of his chest, the hard lines of his abs, the strength in his thighs. Your fingers traced the vein from his bicep to his forearm, grounding you in the moment.

The warmth of his skin against yours was everything—comforting, intimate. You were both aware of his cock pressed against your ass, but for now, you both ignored it, savoring the quiet closeness. In this shared silence, nothing else mattered.

The warmth of the bath pulled you into a sense of calm, but the steady rise and fall of Sylus’s chest beneath you stirred something more. You could not ignore how his hands started to drift, one moving slowly up your arm, the other settling on your waist, his finger tracing gentle circles on your skin. A quiet hum of satisfaction escaped your lips as you shifted slightly, pressing your back more firmly against him.

“You feel incredible, sweetie,” Sylus murmured into your ear, his deep voice sending a shiver through you despite the warmth of the water.

The light touch of his lips grazed your shoulder, and you felt a surge of heat build inside you. His lips lingered, pressing soft, teasing kisses along your neck, his breath hot against your skin. 

You tilted your head back to give him better access, your heart quickening as his touch became firmer, more deliberate. The tension between you that had been quietly building suddenly felt undeniable. His hand slid down to your thigh, squeezing gently, and you felt a low moan escape your lips.

"Sylus..." you whispered, your voice breathless, your body instinctively pressing against him. His cock, which you both had been ignoring, now became impossible to dismiss.

He growled softly, lips still brushing your neck. "I’ve missed this," Sylus whispered, his lips brushing your ear, voice deep and full of desire. "But I think it's time we take this somewhere... a little more open."

Without waiting for an answer, he shifted beneath you, his strong arms lifting you out of the water as easily as if you weighed nothing. Water dripped from your skin, splashing back into the tub as he stood, holding you effortlessly in his arms.

"Sylus!" you gasped, gripping his shoulders as he carried you with that familiar, confident grin. He didn’t speak and just gave you a knowing look, his eyes dark with intent.

He walked you over to the bathroom counter, the cool surface contrasting the heat radiating from your body. Gently but firmly, Sylus sat you down, your wet skin making contact with the smooth countertop, the chill making you gasp.

Before you could fully adjust to your new position, he dropped to his knees in front of you, his hands tugging you forward, positioning you exactly how he wanted. His gaze locked onto yours as he parted your plush thighs, his breath hot against your skin.

"I told you, sweetie," he growled, eyes filled with desire. "Your wish is my command."

Your eyes widened at the sight of him on his knees before you. You were breathless, waiting for his next move.

Sylus’s fingers slotted between your folds, moving to spread them open for him. Your pussy was already so wet, and his fingers were soaked in your slick just from opening you up. He pressed a firm kiss against your pretty little clit. His kiss was slow, testing your reaction. Your hips bucked from his kiss. He could tell you’ve grown needy for him. 

“It seems I'm not taking good care of my wife.” His intense gaze reached yours. His mouth opened, allowing his hot tongue to make contact with your sensitive clit. 

A moan fell from your lips. You were quickly feeling overwhelmed. The cold counter, your wet skin, his tongue, his eye contact. You couldn’t help but close your eyes. There was too much going on. 

His tongue expertly flicked your clit, and he was messily making out with your cunt. He decided he would spell his name on it. He loved reminding you who you belonged to after your time apart. He moved his index finger, choosing to work your hole while pleasing your clit. His finger stroked your entrance back and forth, dipping inside a bit more each time he made a pass. You moved your hands to grip under your legs, bracing yourself. Your head bent back, resting against the large mirror in the bathroom. 

He shifted his expert tongue, closing his lips around your clit. Nibbling on your clit lightly, dragging your attention back to him. It’s almost like he was punishing you for looking away from him. 

“Eyes on me, Kitten,” Sylus said, his words sending vibrations straight into your clit, as he pushed his larger finger into you. Beginning to stroke your insides, he found that little sensitive button inside you, pressing it firmly, causing you to squirm beneath him, growing heat in your belly. You could feel the heat going to your face at the sight before you. 

Sylus wanted—needed all of you, but more than anything, he needed your attention. He has to know that you share his desire.

“Yes,” you said breathlessly. You fought to keep your eye on him, even as your pleasure began to build up inside you. The heat of his mouth, his fingers pumping into you expertly, just felt so good.

During the days you spent apart, you counted the hours away. The feeling of his tongue on yours, his body against yours, nothing could compare to what you share with Sylus. The spots are the only ones he knows and can only dare to explore. He blew your mind every time. 

You shifted one of your hands to grip his white hair. It slotted between your fingers so easily when you tugged it like that. A groan released from his mouth, vibrating your cunt. 

“I– oh fuck,” you said suddenly as your hips began to spasm hard against his beautiful face. Your hips lifted at the intensity of the pleasure running through you.

“I know. Come for me, darling,” He purred into you. He kept his mouth on you as you rode out your high. You rode his face, spreading your juices all over him.

Sylus smirked at you. His face was covered in your arousal as you slowly released your grip on his hair. A lazy smile appeared on your face as he stood to kiss you, his hand reaching out, cupping your face sweetly. He kissed you slowly, saving this moment with you. The way he pressed against you sent warmth through your veins. 

Reluctantly parting his lips from yours, he lifted you off your ass onto your feet.

“Turn around for me, Kitten,” he commanded you sweetly. And you complied, turning around and facing the large mirror before you in the bathroom. You bent over on the counter, the cold granite causing your nipples to harden against it. You rested on your forearms, making eye contact with Sylus in the mirror. He licked his lips, collecting your remaining arousal on his tongue.

And he held that with you, not daring to look away. He took his cock in his hands, his girth heavy in his hands, and he guided himself to your cunt. Gauging your reaction, he rubbed his cock against your slit, and you squirmed a bit, still sensitive from your earlier orgasm. 

He pushed into you slowly, agonizingly slow. Your eyes were a bit teary as you bit your lip, watching him tease you. You could feel the burn of him stretching you out. It’d been so long since he fucked you. “don’t tease,” you whined, your lips pouting slightly. You turned back, looking at him directly. “I need you,” you said, your body burning with need.

He kissed you roughly, tilting your head a bit to allow him better access to your lips. At the same time, he sheathed himself fully inside you. A desperate moan fell from your lips, and you tilted your head forward, watching him in the mirror. He took on a slow, deep pace at first, dragging his hips back before pounding back into you. 

His hands found your lower back, gripping your flesh, bracing himself as he pounded into you. The intensity of his thrusts caused your body to create friction against the counter. Your breast, your stomach, his hands on your backside. It just felt so good.

He thrust into you repeatedly, and you heard the slap of his heavy erection pounding into you. The slap of his balls hit your clit repeatedly as he kept his rhythm. Breaking his eye contact with you, Sylus's eyes trained on where he was pounding into you. Every time he pulled out, your cunt dragged him back in. Begging for him not to pull away. You kept gripping down on him.

He watched as your juices mixed, the white film appearing around the base of his cock. A sly smile appeared on his lips, sending the desire coursing through his veins. He closed his eyes, focusing on how you felt around him. Your gummy walls sucked him in, asking for him to stay. You kept gripping his cock so well you couldn’t possibly understand what you were doing to him. He could feel every little time you twitched, gripped him, sucked down on him. And the sounds coming from your pretty little mouth were egging him on. Begging him to come in your pretty pussy, and he couldn’t resist much longer. 

You felt yourself involuntarily grip down on Sylus again, and you turned your head to look at him directly, his pretty face, the flush on his cheeks. He was driving you crazy, too. He kept hitting that sensitive spot inside you, his heavy balls slapping your clit over and over. You couldn’t help but grip down on him again. You watched his eyebrows furrow as he slightly opened his eyes to look at yours. His eyes squinted as pleasure began to take over his body. 

“You feel so good,” he gritted out, his flushed face apparent as you looked at him more closely. The sight is so erotic, a moan released from your lips. You could feel your wetness all over him. Your cunt was dripping at the sight before you. 

He began to keel over you. Resting a bit on your back as his thrusts became more sloppy. He laid on top of you completely, “You’ll take my come, won’t you, baby?” he whispered in your ear. 

“Y–yes,” you moaned out. His eyes closed as he rutted into you over and over as his ropes of come filled you. 

Your hands gripped the counter, steadying yourself until his thrusts slowed up a bit. He was losing his pace and becoming sloppy as he finished riding his high.

His breathing was uneven as he rested his weight on your backside. “You’re always so good for me, Kitten,” he said breathlessly.

He pulled out slowly, trying to keep his seed in you before he got on his knees, and your eyebrows hit your hairline in shock.

“Can’t let this escape now, can we?” Sylus said, slight amusement in his voice as he used his fingers to push his release back inside you before he stood up and licked his two fingers clean. He was looking into your eyes using the mirror.

“Sylus!” you exclaimed at the sight. He’d never done that before. It's a true sight to behold.

“We taste so good together, sweetie,” he remarked casually, causing heat to go to your face as you watched him leave the room.

He returned with a soft towel, wetting the cloth in the sink, furthest from you, so as not to re-wet your now dry skin. 

He came back over and wiped your excess shared fluids from your cunt, leaving you slightly damp from the wetness of the towel.

At that, you rolled over, sitting on the counter, before tenderly kissing Sylus on his taut lips. “Thank you,” you whispered to him. He’s always so attentive, you thought. He pressed himself flush against you before wrapping your legs around his waist. 

“Let’s lay down now,” he said, picking you up. 

You giggled at that. “Yes, let’s,” you said with a large smile. You missed this.

☆---

I feel like Sylus and Raf are the most fun to write for. Their stories always have so much banter idk. THIS IS NOT ZAYNE SHADE, that's my man fr.

[cubedmango]

they do this the entire way home

[syea-say]

The finale of a never-ending masquerade.

AQ 4.2 spoilers.

[amirasainz]

Hey can you make one where Lewis and Readers mom are in a relationship and Reader kind of grows up with Lewis ad her stepdad. Over time she stops calling him Lewis and instead calls him Dad.

Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!

-xoxo babygirl 💜

The greatest title of them all

The sound of laughter echoed through the house as Marry stood in the kitchen, stirring a pot of soup. It was a cozy Saturday afternoon, with the warm sun casting a soft glow through the windows. In the living room, a ballet video played on the TV. It was a recording of Yn’s recent performance, and even though it wasn’t perfect in her eyes, she loved watching herself dance, especially with her mom and Lew nearby.

“Mom, can we watch it again?” Yn’s voice, small and tentative, broke through the quiet.

Marry looked up with a warm smile. “Of course, sweetie. Go ahead.” She set down the spoon and wiped her hands on a dish towel.

Lewis, who had been sitting on the couch, looked over at Yn. His heart swelled with affection every time she called him by his name—‘Lew’—a title he hadn’t even dreamed of when they first met. It wasn’t always this way. In the beginning, Yn was shy, cautious of him, unsure of his place in their home. But now, as she was snuggled up with him on the couch, her tiny frame leaning into his side, Lewis felt like the luckiest man in the world.

“Are you sure about the soup? You don’t need any help?” he asked, his voice gentle, watching her stir the pot. He didn’t want to pull her away from her task, but he also wanted her to know he was there if she needed him.

She chuckled softly. “I’m good, honey. Just enjoy your time with Yn. I’ll be right here.”

And he did enjoy it. Every single moment. Because Yn had become his little girl in so many ways, and he had become the father figure she never thought she needed.

---

Two years ago, when he first started dating Marry, things had been complicated. Yn was only five at the time, and she didn’t know how to process the idea of another man being in the house. Her dad had left when she was three, and for the past two years, her only family was her mom.

At first, she had called him “Lewis.” It had been strange for her, especially when he would show up to spend time with Marry. But over time, he began to do little things for Yn, making sure she felt included, loved, and heard.

Lewis had been there for her first ballet recital, sitting proudly in the front row with a bouquet of flowers, cheering her on just like a real dad would. He didn’t need to be asked—he wanted to be there.

“Good job, sweetheart!” he had shouted excitedly when she took her final bow.

Yn had smiled shyly, but the connection between them had deepened after that day. It wasn’t just that he showed up—it was that he cared. When she wanted to go to the waterpark for her birthday, Lewis had taken her. He had watched her face light up as she slid down the water slides and played in the wave pool.

At night, when they sat down to watch movies, he’d let her pick the movie—even if it was a Barbie movie she watched for the hundredth time. It didn’t matter to him. What mattered was the smile on her face.

“Let’s have a picnic, just the three of us!” Lewis had suggested one Saturday afternoon. He laid out a blanket in the living room, and they ate sandwiches, laughing as Roscoe tried to steal a piece of ham.

But more than the big moments, it was the small ones that cemented his place in Yn’s heart.

The nights he spent waiting for her to fall asleep on the couch so they could decorate her room together.

Or when they baked cookies in the kitchen, and Lewis taught her how to mix the dough just right, making a mess and laughing the entire time.

That's when 'Lewis' turned into 'Lew'.

Sometimes, it was the quiet moments that meant the most and change everything. Like the night Yn came to him after a bad dream.

---

The night had been quiet, the house wrapped in a blanket of calm. Marry was asleep beside Lewis, but a small sound stirred him from his slumber. He heard it again—soft, a hesitant knock.

“Mom?” Yn’s voice was faint.

Lewis heart leaped in his chest. He turned toward her voice. “Hey, Yn, you okay?”

Yn’s small figure appeared in the doorway, her face tight with worry. Her eyes, wide with fear, met his. “Lew… I had a bad dream,” she said, her voice cracking slightly.

Marry stirred in bed but didn’t fully wake up. Lew gently pulled back the covers, his heart aching at the sight of Yn standing there, so small and vulnerable.

“Come here, sweetheart,” he whispered, patting the empty spot beside him.

Yn climbed into the bed, curling up next to him. Her head rested on his chest as he wrapped an arm around her protectively.

“You’re safe here, okay?” Lewis whispered, his fingers running through her soft hair. “Bad dreams don’t stand a chance when you’re with me. I’ll keep you safe.”

“Thanks, Lew,” she mumbled, already beginning to relax in his arms.

He smiled down at her. And then, in that moment, something he never expected to hear passed her lips. “Dad?”

Lew’s heart skipped a beat. He held his breath, unsure of whether he had heard her right.

“I’m here, baby,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m right here.”

It didn’t take long for Yn to fall back asleep, her hand still gripping his, but from that night on, everything had changed. The way Yn looked at him, the way she started calling him Dad instead of Lew, felt like the most sacred gift he could ever receive. It wasn’t just a title. It was the confirmation of the bond they had formed together.

He had been there for her, in every way a father could be—attending her recitals, helping her with homework, making her laugh, teaching her how to ride a bike, taking care of her when she was sick. But it wasn’t until that night, when she whispered ‘Dad’ into the quiet of the night, that he knew he had become something much more than just her mom’s boyfriend.

---

As the days passed, the bond between Lew and Yn deepened. They were inseparable—Yn seeking comfort in him when the world felt a little too big and scary. When her dad stopped picking up the phone calls, when she felt abandoned, Lewis was there. He was her constant, her rock.

One evening, as they sat down to dinner, Yn hesitated, her little hands resting on the table, fiddling nervously with her napkin. She looked up at Lewis, her eyes big with a question she wasn’t sure how to ask.

Lew met her gaze with a smile, noticing her uncertainty. “What’s on your mind, kiddo?”

Yn bit her lip, then asked softly, “Do you think my papa will ever come back?”

The question hit Lewis hard, but he knew better than to lie to her. “I don’t know, sweetheart,” he said quietly. “But what I do know is that I’m here for you. Always.”

Yn nodded, her shoulders relaxing a little as she reached out and took his hand. “I’m glad you’re here, Dad.”

That was all Lewis needed to hear. He squeezed her hand, his heart full.

“I’ll always be here, baby,” he promised, leaning in to kiss the top of her head. “And no matter what happens, you’ll never be alone.”

Yn smiled, her trust in him unwavering. For her, Lewis was more than just a stepdad. He was her dad, the man who loved her, protected her, and gave her a sense of security that she had never known.

And for Lewis, there was no greater joy than knowing he had earned that place in her heart. He would always cherish the title of ‘Dad’—because it meant more than anything he could have ever imagined.

As they sat there, together at the dinner table, the sound of Marry’s laughter filled the room. And in that moment, Lewis knew that this—this family—was exactly where he belonged.

[everwalldigan]

The friendliest of reminders that Bruce cried in his room for an hour when Jason was taken away by cps

“Alfred has never known the man to act so helpless… so defeated” if anyone needs me I’ll be crying in the corner

[donut251155]

Kou's death

He died as the selfless idiot he is, but most of the fandom is missing a part. I've seen so many people talk about Teru and Akane seeing his dead body down the well, but nobody who said this:

He looks comforted by the lightning, some kind of wicked comfort.

"My brother's lightning…" he doesn't look like he feels betrayed, at all.

He was trying to kill Nene, one of his best friends, and he never would've been able to forgive himself if he succeeded. He's glad his BROTHER stopped him, that he was the one to wipe him away from the living world, even tho it was an accident

He finally understands what Hanako and Mitsuba meant by saying they want HIM, someone they trust, to exorcise them. It's hard to imagine as a living person, but as a dangerous supernatural it's as clear as day

What was Kou's best departure, was Teru's worst goodbye

[delusionsofgrandeur13]

pt. 2

you just saw your ex boyfriend, dick grayson, for the first time since he broke up with you.

you ran into him on the street.

no, like, literally ran into him.

you were walking your mom’s dog for her, a german shepherd she got when you moved out. she’d aptly named him trouble. despite his name, trouble was usually a mellow guy, even if he was huge. walking him was just another thing you were doing to try and ignore the thoughts constantly pounding out a beat in your head.

oh, dick would think this is funny! that’s dick’s favorite color, i should buy it! dick and i should go there on our next date!

and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on and-

anyways, you were definitely trying to keep yourself busy.

any time a memory popped up in your brain of him—

laughing at your jokes, holding you close while you fell asleep, kissing your neck while he thrust into you

—you’d empty the dishwasher, paint your nails, (any color but blue) turn on reality tv, read a book, stuff your face, whatever.

anything to stop fucking thinking about him and his stupid blue eyes and his dumb smile.

you’d been been watching the news, sprawled across the couch. just the regular gotham news: don’t use main street, mr. freeze’s ray iced out the pavement. the iceberg lounge had been raided by the police for the third time this month. the justice league defeated yet another extraterrestrial threat to humanity, blah, blah, blah. you weren’t really watching. the news program ended, and the next one started. a gotham gossip show. they were doing a special segment on the wayne family.

of course they fucking were. even your tv was conspiring against you. you had to resist the urge to chuck the remote at it.

you turned it off instead, heading to your room to get ready for a run.

(running for exercise or running from your thoughts?)

your mom had asked you to take trouble right before you’d walked out the door, and so you grabbed him and his leash and headed out. you’d forgotten the bags for his poop, but you didn’t think you would be out that long, so you just kept on going.

you were wearing the leggings dick had bought you, ones he joked should be a specific blue color. you hadn’t understood then, but you more than understood now. it was warmer, and so you just had on an old sports bra on top, and some converse.

you were not the athletic type. that was dick. probably still was. you wouldn’t really know.

you hadn’t talked since it happened, like three or four weeks ago.

time had become a little fuzzy. your mom said you could stay with her as long as you needed, but you were starting to get the itch to move out.

nothing against your mom, it’s just hard to sob really loudly into a pint of ice cream when she’s there.

and she keeps trying to wash the one shirt of dick’s you still have. you know, fully well, how dumb it is, (and a little gross) but you’re still wearing his shirt every night to bed. and maybe it’s all in your head, but it still smells like him. you aren’t ready to wash it. besides, now that you’re sleeping by yourself, you’re pretty sure it’s helping you fall asleep. something that was hard to do the first few nights without your big warm boyfriend next to you in bed.

it probably isn’t good for you, to keep wearing his shirt.

you’d had your hand between your thighs more than once late at night thinking about being enveloped in his scent. your nights were haunted with thoughts of his body over yours, his phantom voice in your ear. calling you angel, asking you if this was heaven, like the last time you’d had sex.

it definitely isn’t good for you.

but neither is life without dick grayson.

you try not to dwell on the fact that dick had given you a sort of non-reason for the breakup. sure, it got lonely sometimes, or you got anxious for your masked boyfriend, so you cried. so what if your patience wore thin after a few too many “i’m sorry, angel, i can’t make it this time”-s.

you were human!

but you’d never, never once complained about his absence or his commitments to his family.

never.

he’d just assumed you were silently suffering and it really irked you if you thought about it for too long. you still weren’t sure if you were mad at him or sad, or whatever. it felt like your brain couldn’t decide on an emotion so you just got twelve at once. but what you did know for sure was that he was 110% worth it to you. you just wish he’d realize that. see that. instead of just the times you were a little emotionally strung out. your ex boyfriend was too willing to sacrifice his own mental health for the sake of yours and you were sick of it. but you didn’t know if you had the courage to say that to him. or even see him, after the way this breakup had hit you.

your friends had managed to get you out of the house, a few times now.

you’d gotten almost too drunk every time, escaping your friends and going outside to get some air. this time, you saw a guy that looked just enough like dick, and it’d all been too much. so you got out of there. you sat yourself down on the curb, looking up at the hazy rooftops. you were always looking up. always.

and since the break up, you’d noticed the vigilantes of your city more often. maybe there was more criminal activity. maybe you were just paying more attention than you used to.

you’d seen spoiler and orphan, pounding the pavement behind you to run after some seedy looking guy holding a briefcase. you think spoiler tried to high five you on the way past, but there was no way. you wrote it off as your memory embellishing things.

you were pretty sure red hood had nodded at you before disappearing down a fire escape on the other side of the building.

your mom had recently gotten a delivery of security cameras for her house. but she hadn’t ordered them. the shipping address had only the address of some warehouse on the dock, the name just, ‘R.R.’ you’d set the cameras up, but you and your mom both were still baffled about it.

and here, sitting on the curb, you were staring at what looked like a dark figure crouched on the rooftop opposite. they’d been there when you’d entered the club, too.

you squinted, trying to make out shoulders and suit colors, when they stood up, and the light bounced off his shiny cowl.

fucking batman?

you shook your head, trying to shake your drunk brain like an etch-a-sketch. there was actually no way.

a smaller figure, one you hadn’t seen behind the shape of batman (!?) pulled a weapon, a gleaming silver sword, and pointed it at you. your head spun. batman (there was no way) shook his head at robin. he sheathed his sword, throwing his hands up in what looked like annoyance. you blinked, and they were gone.

you weren’t really sure if it had happened or not. you’d been trying not to think too hard about the fact that you still hadn’t seen nightwing. you’d really been trying.

so instead, you were walking your mom’s dog.

trouble had, in fact, pooped, and you were frantically looking around for something to pick it up with. gotham was already shitty enough without the addition of, well, literal shit. the streets were busy, but not crowded, and someone down the block whistled for a cab, catching your attention. you turned, and at the same time, trouble jerked your arm, pulling you backwards into someone walking on the sidewalk. the stranger made a choked sound.

“trouble??”

your heart stopped. you held your breath, turning around.

trouble was at attention, looking up at your ex-boyfriend with his head cocked.

dick’s eyes were wide. his hair shorter than you remember. he leaned down to scratch trouble behind the ears, his biceps and shoulder muscles in hard relief. are you dreaming? you didn’t recognize the shirt he had on, but he was wearing your favorite jeans of his, and his matching converse. your mouth felt like a desert.

trouble trails around the two of you, the leash long. he loves your ex-boyfriend, you know he won’t go anywhere.

“did you cut your hair?” you take a step forward. dick does too.

“i-” he clears his throat. “i did. do you like it?” he shifts his eyes, his cheeks bright pink.

you make a show of looking it over. he turns his head so you can see it from all angles. like he always did when he got a haircut.

your chest hurts.

you nod approvingly, flashing him a weak smile.

“it looks really nice. you’re very-” your face heats as you stop yourself. “it looks very handsome.”

that’s an understatement. you would’ve climbed him like a tree the minute he’d come home looking like that. the way his biceps were bulging out of his shirt sleeves could not be good for his circulation. it was great for yours, your heart was beating a mile a minute.

dick smiles down at you, stepping forward again.

“thanks.” he looks down, taking in your outfit. “nice leggings, ang-” he’s cut off when trouble spots a squirrel and darts, barking wildly. the problem is, trouble had been walking his leashed self around you and dick.

you’re now chest to chest with your ex boyfriend in the middle of a sidewalk, tied to him by rope. you vaguely hear trouble whine at the way his collar bit into his neck from the leash pulling taut. you didn’t even have the time to process the fact that he had almost called you angel. which was probably a good thing.

you’re breathing heavily, while dick doesn’t seem to be breathing at all.

he’s put his arms around you on instinct, and you hate the way you feel like you’re home. a shiver runs up your spine at the sudden closeness, and dick peers down at you through half-lids. your mouth dries up again. you suddenly feel indignant.

“you are not allowed to breakup with me and then show up and look at me like that!” you hiss at him.

you would throw up your hands in exasperation if they weren’t basically pinned to dick’s body. a smile breaks across his face, his bright blue eyes telling you everything you need to know. he stares at you, studying you. you wonder if he can feel how hard your heart is beating.

“alfred taught me a new recipe.” he blurts, his hand clutching at your back.

he’s adorable. but you school your face and raise an eyebrow at him.

“..oookay?”

dick blushes, his face sheepish. “i could make it for you, if you wanted.”

“what i want is an apology.” you look him up and down.

your ex boyfriend grimaces, squeezing his eyes shut. “understandable.”

“on your hands and knees. i think this is one of those begging-for-my-forgiveness type situations, don’t you think?”

dick nods, a strand of hair falling across his forehead. his eyes flash.

“you don’t have to worry about getting me on my knees.”

one heartbeat pounds behind your ribs, the other one between your legs. you huff out a weird sort of nervous laugh.

“oh, i’m not joking.” his lips curve up in a smile, one you know very well. he obviously plans to make up on lost time.

you forgot how charming he was. you have to practically force yourself to breathe. you’d do anything to have the real thing over his old t-shirt. you give yourself a mental shake.

he can flirt all he wants, but what about your heart? you look up at him, and his face softens, his pupils huge.

“can you get us untangled?”

dick nods, whistling for trouble. he frees an arm and grabs trouble’s collar, guiding him back around so the leash falls to the sidewalk. you step back, taking a deep breath. you’re cold at the sudden loss of his body heat. it’s a harsh reminder of reality. you grab trouble’s leash, having him sit. you look at your ex boyfriend.

“thanks.” you take another deep breath. “can you promise me something, though?”

he nods, his face serious. “anything. anything at all.”

“promise you won’t break my heart again?” you hold out your pinky finger.

dick coughs, surprised at your words. he looks down, taking a shaky breath. he’s in disbelief, he’s ecstatic, he’s on top of the world, he…has a lot of apologizing to do.

when he looks back up to offer up his own pinky, his eyes are shining. the sight makes your heart melt. you take his finger in yours, beaming up at him.

he gives you a soft smile in return. “i promise.”

you take your hand back, feeling the most hopeful you have in a month.

a breeze picks up, and the whiff you get reminds you of your earlier predicament. you look down. dick looks down too.

shit. literally.

you forgot about the fact that trouble had used the sidewalk as a toilet.

“is that trouble’s?” he asks.

you nod, making a face. “i forgot the poop bags.”

“rookie mistake.” dick shakes his head, smiling. you look him up and down, and then turn, walking back the way you came.

“text me about that recipe!” you lift your hand in a wave.

“but-..uh, the shit?” he calls after you.

“that’s alllll you, baby!” you yell back, practically skipping away. you feel like you’re floating.

[plistommy]

Eddie thought Steve wouldn’t want to bottom since he’s only ever been with girls before, so he’d be more comfortable being the one on the top.

And Eddie was totally fine with that.

But then when the moment came, both of them naked and making out on top of Eddie’s bed after a long day without seeing each other, Steve had nervously rushed out the question.

Or more like the plea.

A plea of Eddie fucking Steve.

And Eddie?

He had been so close to start screaming out of pure joy as he dove into to give Steve a deep kiss, making the younger boy melt under him.

”I would love to fuck you, sweetheart. I can’t think of anything better.”

Steve had blushed so prettily under him, big eyes filled with lust as Eddie had kissed his neck, leaving marks there before he moved down Steve’s body to between his long and spread legs.

He had opened Steve slowly with his fingers, made him a trembling and moaning mess as Eddie kept his dark eyes on him. He wouldn’t dare to look away, not when Steve was so beautiful.

When he had his cockhead against Steve’s hole, he leaned down and gave Steve a long and deep kiss, swallowing all of the boy's moans as he finally pushed in.

They held hands as Eddie fucked Steve. Moaned and whined together when Eddie thrusted deep inside Steve, making the younger boy cry out as he felt overwhelmingly full by Eddie’s cock.

”You’re perfect, Steve. So gorgeous.”

Steve had whined for his name and arched his back as he came all over their sweaty bodies.

Eddie had tucked his arms under Steve’s shoulders and held him close to his body as he chased for his own release, whispering praises against Steve’s lips.

When he came too, moaning and kissing Steve, he couldn’t believe how lucky he was.

”Just…. Wow. Eddie, you’re… wow.”

Eddie let out a breathless laugh as he leaned back a little, looking down at Steve and his messed up hair.

”Yeah?”

”Uh-huh.” Steve nodded, smiling up at him, ”I’ve never felt this good.”

Eddie kissed Steve’s cheek and chin, giving soft and teasing nips as Steve giggled under his weight, legs still wrapped around Eddie’s hips.

”So, a success?” Eddie grins, feeling really good and so freaking happy that he gets to have Steve like this.

Steve snorts and pushes Eddie’s hair back so his bangs are out of his face, leaving his forehead visible that Steve wants to kiss. And he does, making Eddie grin even more as his necklace dangles between their bodies.

”Yeah. Definitely a success.”

[fryologyy]

wander over yonder sketchdump!

[ohimsummer]

teen! satoru as a loner in school, before he became friends with you and suguru and shoko. when some classmate came up to him all giggly and a little nervous, eyes darting around the room for whatever reason, but satoru doesn’t care because he’s so excited.

no one ever approaches him first unless it’s to poke fun at him with some unfunny joke or backhanded compliment that completely wipes the smile off his face. so the idea of someone coming up to actually be friends with him has his heart pounding, it’s all so new!

satoru tells them all about himself. all his favorite hobbies and interests and shows—digimon of course being a common theme. sure, he’s a nerd, but his new friend doesn’t seem to mind, quietly nodding along with a wide grin as satoru rambles on and on and on with a sharp glimmer in his eyes.

it all feels so nice, having someone to talk to and who actually listens. someone who isn’t clearly zoning out on him or telling him that he’s talking too much. it’s only the one classmate, none of the others have started making an effort to befriend him. but this one did and satoru is hopeful because it’s a start.

both his heart and hopes are crushed when he’s walking the halls, just about to round the corner when he overhears some information about himself. something personal that he’s told no one else, except one person: his beloved “friend”.

satoru can feel the tears coming as he peeps around the corner, and he sees the original classmate, the one who approached him, laughing in a group of other students. mimicking his voice and mocking his interests, complaining that he talks so much about things that are so boring, that he’s annoying, that he’s clingy.

and that they “wish someone else had taken the dare”.