#'ray is a burden and he's on his own'

[1stthingsfirst]

Coming back to this post much later because I can't stop thinking about it.

For context: I have been the Mew and the Sand (aka grew up around addiction), have my own mental illnesses (not addiction), and have some training in trauma-informed care. If anyone has any questions about or issues with my wording, please don't hesitate to tell me!

I love seeing the parallels spelled out and I mostly agree, but I do think folks have romanticized Sand to fit a narrative that isn't fully supported by the text.

We know that Ray's mother's death was related to her alcoholism, Ray struggles with alcoholism, and he uses/abuses drugs. We also know that San makes and sells his own alcohol, he works in a bar, his mother runs a gogo bar, and his social life revolves around drinking. That's already not a great set-up.

Sand genuinely likes Ray and he's willing to go through more than Mew. That means a lot! However, I'd presume that much of the difference in their approaches stems from how long they've known Ray, not from Sand being an inherently better, more patient, or more understanding person. It's very easy to say that Mew treats Ray like he's a burden (and at times he does), but we also haven't seen the years of shared history. The years of Ray drinking too much and bringing drugs places he could get himself and his friends in trouble and Mew planning rides for Ray so he doesn't drive drunk.

I don't blame Ray! Well, except for drunk driving. Addiction is, in part:

not a moral or behavioral failing

a mental illness (Substance Use Disorder, per the DSM-5)

often comorbid with depression and PTSD (i'm not a psychologist but i think it's safe to assume Ray has one or both) (comorbidity often results in increased severity of symptoms and lower responsiveness to treatment)

partially hereditary

significantly more common among LGBTQ+ folks

even harder to accept when you're young and think you're just partying like other people your age, and

not your fault.

This doesn't mean that one's behavior and actions resulting from addiction are immune from criticism, but it does provide an explanation for that behavior and allows me to empathize better.

I do blame Mew and co. for regularly going to bars with a friend who they think drinks too much. I intentionally didn't say "who is an alcoholic" here because I'm unsure if they would say that. We just know Mew thinks Ray drinks too much/often, so I'm purposely being broad. However, I also don't blame Mew for being tired of Ray's behavior.

It's easy as an outsider to wonder why they're still friends. Why Mew isn't kinder or why he gets exasperated, especially knowing about Ray's struggles. But Mew has dealt with Ray's behavior for at least two years, and likely their entire friendship if we consider his initial response to Ray's suicidal phone call. It's not empathetic or trauma-informed, but it is human to be tired. It's exhausting to try to help someone who won't change. It can be exhausting just to witness.

There has been a lot of meta on Sand's role as caregiver and I truly believe that he may have a higher tolerance than Mew. That said, I can't help but wonder if Sand would act any differently if he had known Ray as long as Mew has. Compassion fatigue is real, and it's caused by repeated exposure. We're witnessing Mew's compassion fatigue. Sand has had much less exposure.

(Editing while this post is in the queue to clarify that, like how I said that addiction is an explanation but not an excuse for Ray's behavior, compassion fatigue is an explanation for Mew's behavior towards Ray, not an excuse. He should be more empathetic and considerate of Ray's feelings, but I get why he isn't. That's the point I was trying to make.)

Sand's approach to Ray is definitely kinder, less judgmental, and more mature than Mew's and his life experiences do make him better equipped to support Ray, but Sand also stumbles:

Sand does (try to) prevent Ray from driving drunk but I'd argue that's more about public safety than it is about Ray himself.

Even after Ray shares that his mom died due to alcoholism, they spend the night taking shots and eating edibles.

After the car accident, Sand doesn't say, "You need to stop drinking." He says, "You need to stop drinking until you're fully recovered." That is, Ray can drink, just not right away. Could it be Sand's way of trying to address Ray's alcoholism? Yes. Does it address Ray's alcoholism? No.

Folks talk a lot about how Ray needs to change his behavior and seek out help before he can be good for Sand. That's true. But Sand may also need to make changes before he can be good for Ray in the long term. Sand's current life/lifestyle is likely incompatible with Ray's sobriety. If we want them to be together and be good for each other, they both need to change.

something something mew keeps ray as the burden/problem he believes himself to be something something sand is trying to help him heal/protect him (x)

bonus - ray can't leave the past/trauma behind him to be happy because it has such a hold on him but maybe in the future

[kmuradesu]

.‘ENTITLED’.

husband!gojo x pregnantwife!reader (afab)

» summary: leaving the busy streets of Sendai city back to its outskirts, the two of you got a bus. there aren’t any seats available, and being pregnant meant being able to sit in the priority seats. looks like they’re taken.

» CW: pregnancy, exhaustion, mentions of jizz, bus ride, stubborn civilian, teeny-weeny angst if you squint, protective satoru, threats, all happy, no swears, not proofread!

» a/n: this has been sat incomplete in my drafts for a month, only until now I’ve motivated myself to finish it (lmao). I don’t know what it is, but I love pregnancy fics with jjk.

———————————————————————

After a slow-paced stroll through the bustling streets of Sendai City and a bunch of offers from Gojo telling you he’ll buy whatever you want, the lingering sense of exhaustion finally caught up with you.

You had managed to make it an hour and a half.

The beads of salty sweat were becoming more prominent over your glossed skin, your breath being lost easily but being hard to get back. The overly frequent back aches weren’t helping either, it was like this baby was already overweight inside of you.

You couldn’t help but feel embarrassed as your soft, now clammy, hand weaved with Gojo’s, the wedding bands glinting a perfect chrome against the sun’s humid rays. You didn’t want to become a burden, neither a random woman in the city known for sweating abnormal amounts of sweat. “I think the baby’s had enough, huh sweets?”

Your loose gaze lifted upwards to meet his, immediately feeling the cool radiating from his cerulean eyes. Strangely, through the navy lenses in his shades.

“..yeah, me too.” You breathed.

“Okayyy, let’s get the bus back - save you walking around with that watermelon inside you.” Purposefully, Satoru presented you and your bump a judgy look.

“..thanks.”

Rolling your peepers with sarcasm, you gently swung your hand with his back and forth.

“Hey, that’s what it looks like to me!”

“Well it’s your sperm, blame your own genes on the fact it’s fat!”

“WHAT?! FAT?! I’M NOT FAT. I’M A TALL SKINNY KING! AND SO WILL BE MY BABIES!” The man was very much offended, that open-mouth and crossed brow face he pulled was all you needed to know.

“..oh REALLY? WELLI KNOW FOR A FACT ITS NOT MY GENES CAUSING IT!”

And all the way to the bus station you continued on with your quarrel on who’s genes caused your bump to be so big already.

Both you were just kids in adult bodies.

——

After earning an unusual load of overcritical glances from passers-by, you finally reached the bus station where many people stood.

Looking around with concern, your brows gently furrowed, a little confusion clouding your mind. It was good that Satoru could read you like a book.. sometimes.

“It’s okay, they’ll let us go past.”

The white-haired man muttered into your ear, placing his hands on your clothed shoulders.

“What if they don’t?”

“Oh they will.”

The way he said those words made you feel something, like it was your hormones playing tricks on you.

And so soon enough after waiting for a couple minutes, you had a glimpse of the scheduled bus turning around the corner.

“C’mon then.”

Placing a hand on the flat of your bump you both moved forwards, attempting to shift to the front.

“Satoru, I—”

“Just go baby, they’ll move for a pregnant queen like you.” He reassured, eyeing the men who weren’t moving out the way at first. Like they should, the women knew to make way, all flashing you sweetened smiles as you passed them.

Eventually you had gotten to the front with a man standing in the lead. “See?” Gojo smirked, watching you tilt your head back to see his beautiful face.

“M’kay..”

——

The doors of the vehicle swung open with a but too much vigour it almost took out the poor man standing next to them.

After Gojo, being the most pampering partner ever, paid for the tickets, he ushered you forwards only to discern no available seats. Gojo would be more than happy to stand, but it was you he worried about since you were already breathless and weak to stand.

The priority was stocked up with disabled and the impaired too apart from one space.

However that man who clearly perceived you were carrying a baby, sat in the seat in front of your face - glancing at you as he did so.

How selfish. Is he not embarrassed?

“There’s no seats left Gojo, I can’t stand anymore.”

Subtly you whined, being a little irritated that you couldn’t sit down and would have to uncomfortably stand as his baby rearranged your organs.

“..hm. Let’s see.”

“Wait—”

He shuffled to the man.

“Heello. Excuse me, but my miss is pregnant. Would you mind sparing the seat?” Gojo politely asked, hanging on to the pole situated in the middle of the aisle.

“What? Err no, sorry.”

That man was not sorry at all. It made you cringe.

Gojo’s expression paused, pressing his pastel lips together in irritation. Why wouldn’t this man listen?

“May I ask why are you being so difficult?”

After hearing those words, you knew this was going to veer off sideways. Almost everyone’s eyes were glued to the scene unfolding, all looking up from the windows and screen to see two men ‘bickering’ it out.

“Difficult? What do you mean, I was here first.” It seemed like the man had issues already, as he started to flail his hands around.

“My wife is pregnant, if you didn’t hear the first time. You’re sat in a priority seat, which where she should be sitting. Are you disabled?”

He was getting defensive. It was crystal clear that the man was not disabled, nor pregnant at that matter.

“..um no? But that doesn’t mean anything. I’m not giving up my seat for some cripple.”

A cripple?!

That’s it, Satoru had had enough and was desperate to split this man in half. Not a single person could insult you because he would already be on them like a hawk.

Anyways, the fact that the nasty being had called you a cripple, couldn’t help but make you feel a little too much like a burden, and your gaze saddened.

“You’ve gone too far. No-one. Absolutely no-one, is to offend my wife like that. So, jackass, vanish any place other so she can sit.”

“Or else?—”

“There is no ‘or else’ fool. You’ve already screwed the wrong person, so I suggest you move. Don’t do something stupid.”

The man, looking quite intimated, eventually got up and sulked off past the two of you.

“Thanks.” Satoru fake smiled, stalking him ‘till he had gone else where, far away from you.

All this drama had made you forgot about the achy pain surfacing your body, which immediately flowed back as realisation hit you.

“..oof-” It had subconsciously left your lips, and it made Satoru’s brows cross.

“Here you go my love. Is it hurting?”

He concernedly asked, holding your velvet hands as you lowered your rear on the much-needed seat.

“I’ll be fine, just what I needed.” You smiled back at him, tucking a stray hair behind you ear as you breathed out.

“I’m glad. Some morons just think they are ‘entitled’.”

—————— thank you for reading! this is my original idea and have worked hard on this. so please no translating, copying, posting my work on a different platform, or modifying my work. all rights reserved - kmuradesu

[moonxknightx]

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ : IN SICKNESS AND IN CARE : :;

╰┈➤ ❝ [PAIRING] ❞ Logan Howlett x F!Reader

・❥・GENRE: Fluff :))

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆FANDOM: X-Men

ੈ✩‧₊˚ WARNINGS: Literally none!

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥SUMMARY: When you catch a cold and try to hide it to avoid being a burden, Logan quickly notices you're not your usual sunny self. Despite your protests, he steps in to take care of you, showing a softer side as he insists you don't have to carry everything alone. In Logan's gruff but tender way, you learn that even the strongest need someone to lean on sometimes.

Based on this request.

THE COOL AIR THAT DRIFTED THROUGH THE MANSION WAS A PLEASANT REPRIEVE FROM THE USUAL HEAT OF THE DAY, but for some reason, it didn’t quite feel the same. You rubbed your arms, a shiver crawling down your spine. Your normally sunny disposition felt dimmed, and no amount of fake smiles seemed to mask how off you were feeling. Logan had already given you a curious glance at breakfast when you didn’t chatter on about your plans for the day.

He wasn’t the kind of man to prod too much. That wasn’t his style. But as the day dragged on, and you avoided him during training, kept quiet during the team meeting, and all but disappeared into your room, it was becoming impossible for him to ignore.

The door to your shared room creaked open, and Logan stood in the doorway, watching as you sat curled up under the blanket on the bed, tissues scattered around you. Your cheeks were flushed, and your usually bright eyes were dim and watery.

“Alright,” Logan grumbled, his voice rough but gentle, “what’s going on with you?”

You sniffled, rubbing your nose with a tissue before looking up at him. “Nothing,” you mumbled, your voice sounding congested. “I’m fine, Logan.”

Logan stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. His boots thudded against the wooden floor as he moved closer. “You don’t look fine. You’ve been avoiding me all day, and now you’re holed up here lookin’ like death warmed over. What’s goin’ on?”

A heavy sigh escaped your lips as you let your head fall back against the pillow. You weren’t acting like yourself, and you knew it. Normally, you were the ray of sunshine in Logan’s life, always bright and cheerful, bringing a light into his otherwise gruff and hardened world. But today… today, you just couldn’t muster the energy. The weight of the cold was pressing down on you, and it felt as if every part of you was being drained of its usual warmth.

“I caught a cold,” you admitted reluctantly, your voice quieter than usual.

Logan narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned against the bedpost. “A cold?” he repeated, as if the idea was foreign to him. “Why the hell are you still workin’ if you’ve got a cold?”

You shifted uncomfortably, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself. “I didn’t want to be a burden.”

Logan’s eyebrows shot up in disbelief. “A burden? You think takin’ care of yourself makes you a burden?”

“I just didn’t want to make anyone worry,” you mumbled, feeling a little embarrassed now. “I know everyone’s busy, and you’ve got your own stuff to handle. I didn’t want to be a distraction.”

Logan let out a low growl, his frustration evident, but not at you. He pushed himself off the bedpost and came to sit beside you on the bed, his hand brushing some hair out of your face. The touch was surprisingly tender for someone with such a rough exterior.

“Darlin’,” he began, his tone softer now, “you ain’t a burden. Not to me. Not to anyone.” His calloused fingers trailed down your cheek, feeling the warmth of your fever. “You’re sick, and that’s all there is to it. You shouldn’t be pushin’ yourself like this.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but before you could say anything, Logan’s expression shifted, a mixture of concern and protectiveness flashing across his face.

“Don’t even try to tell me you’re fine,” he said, cutting you off before you could protest. “I know you. I’ve been around long enough to know when somethin’ ain’t right, and you ain’t yourself today. You’re burnin’ up, Sunshine.”

A small, tired smile tugged at the corners of your lips when he used his nickname for you. “I’ll be okay, Logan, really. I just need to sleep it off.”

He wasn’t buying it. Not one bit.

“You’re not gettin’ out of this one that easy,” he muttered, standing up and heading toward the bathroom. You could hear him rummaging around, muttering to himself about where the hell Hank kept the damn thermometer.

You groaned softly, sinking deeper into the covers. “Logan, I can take care of myself…”

“Yeah? Well, I’m takin’ care of you now, so deal with it,” he called back from the bathroom. Moments later, he returned with a damp washcloth and a thermometer. He pressed the washcloth to your forehead, the cool sensation soothing your feverish skin.

You squirmed slightly, feeling a little uncomfortable with all the attention. Logan wasn’t exactly the nurturing type—at least, not outwardly—but the way he was hovering over you made your heart swell. You knew he cared, but he rarely showed it in such an obvious way.

“Stop fussin’,” he grumbled as he stuck the thermometer under your tongue. “I ain’t lettin’ you fight this thing alone, so just stay put.”

The thermometer beeped, and Logan took a look at the reading, his jaw tightening. “You’re runnin’ a fever. You should’ve said somethin’ sooner.”

You shrugged weakly, the energy to argue completely gone. “I didn’t want to worry you.”

Logan sighed deeply, his gruff exterior softening for just a moment as he sat back down beside you. “You worry me more when you don’t say anythin’,” he admitted quietly.

His words caught you off guard, and you looked up at him through bleary eyes. Logan wasn’t one for emotional speeches, but there was a raw honesty in his voice that made your chest tighten.

“I can take care of myself, but I ain’t used to people takin’ care of me,” Logan continued, his voice low. “But you… you’re different. You’re the light in all this darkness, and if somethin’ happens to you… I don’t know what I’d do.”

You reached out, placing a hand on his arm, feeling the strength beneath his skin. “I’m not going anywhere, Logan,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.

He let out a soft, almost inaudible grunt before pulling the blanket up over you. “Damn right you’re not,” he muttered, his tone gruff but tender. “Now, rest. I’ll get you some soup or somethin’.”

As he stood up to leave, you grabbed his hand, stopping him in his tracks. “Logan… thank you.”

He gave you a small nod, his lips quirking into a faint smirk. “You’re welcome, Sunshine. Just remember, you ain’t gotta do everything on your own. You’ve got me now.”

With that, Logan left the room, and you closed your eyes, letting yourself sink into the warmth of the blankets. You hadn’t realized how heavy the weight of your exhaustion was until now, but with Logan by your side, you finally allowed yourself to rest, knowing he’d be there to take care of you.

And, for once, you were okay with that.

🏷️: @twinky-wink @fidgetingbee @astarions-girl-dinner @layladestiny8 @birdy-bat-writes @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @veru-boom @wolviesgirl @lanabobana @shybluebirdninja @corvusmorte @seamlessepiphany @allmyn1ghts @chronicallybubbly @lex-the-flex @evasmlp @whxtewolf @froggieeez

If you want to be added to the tag list, let me know!!🫶

[marcyvamp1re-blog]

ITS EVOLUTION, BABY !

pairings ⸺Yandere! Justice League! x Inmortal!Fem!reader.

couple of today! ⸺Yandere! Kal-El x Inmortal! Fem! Reader

This is a Headcanon!

sinopsis ⸺ You had seen it all. From the first whisper of life in the primordial oceans to the deafening buzz of the modern era. Every advancement, every innovation, a heavier burden on your shoulders. Nothing surprised you anymore; everything was predictable and monotonous, so you found refuge in a small apartment in the heart of Metropolis, away from the bustling human nonsense.

Until one day a flying bus crushed you.

warnings ⸺ Dark Themes, Dead, Religion, murdering, Disturbing Content, Unhealthy Obsession, Discrimination, War, Street Fights, Gaslight, Suicide, Violence, Blood, LGBT Content, Kidnapping, NSFW, Sexual Content, Mental Illness, Addiction, Torture, Corruption, Isolation, Trauma, Phobias, Paranoia, Manipulation.

A/N — Bah, just another story pulled from my imagination after dancing all afternoon to Pearl Jam songs while cleaning the house.

This land is mine, this land is free

I'll do what I want but irresponsibly

▪︎Your immortality is neither epic nor glorious. You were not born from the stars or from scientific labs. There was no cosmic ray, no magic potions, no caped heroes to save you. Your existence is simple, without ornamentation.

▪︎You are water.

▪︎Or, to be more precise, you were a microscopic being living in a drop of water attached to a wandering meteorite that roamed through the void, in the infinite silence of space, before arriving on Earth. In that tiny liquid bubble, you were happy, surrounded by other beings who knew neither pain nor time. Everything was calm.

▪︎Until one day, your home plummeted toward the planet you would come to know as Earth.

▪︎There your true evolution began.

▪︎Millions of years passed, and you witnessed it all. You observed the first spark of life in the primordial oceans, the giant reptiles crawling across the continents, and the hominids standing upright on two legs. With each evolutionary cycle, you adapted, but you always remained, indifferent to the passage of time. Nothing truly affected you… Until Martha appeared.

▪︎Martha was your youngest daughter, for now. At eighty years old, Martha was the only thing you had left in this world that no longer mattered to you. Time, that relentless enemy that did not touch you, was wreaking havoc on her. Wrinkles adorned her face, her hands trembled as she knitted. But she made you feel something you thought you had forgotten: humanity. Martha kept you anchored to a world that had become irrelevant to you.

▪︎You did not live in Metropolis with her because she had her own life, and you spent your time wandering to every corner of the earth. Aimless and without a home to sleep in.

▪︎But you decided to visit her when you learned from her husband that she was in the hospital. It wasn’t serious, but she was the most important thing you had, and even at eighty years old, she would still be your little sweet baby.

▪︎Your journey was calm; listening to rock bands and old songs relaxed you. Nothing could disturb your zen state.

▪︎But then came the bus. The fucking bus.

▪︎An empty bus flew out from a nearby building, a flash of blue and red, and chaos erupted in the streets. Superman, facing Lex Luthor, knocked a bus right onto you. One second of distraction and you were crushed, like a puppet torn to pieces.

▪︎Your blood spilled onto the pavement and the broken glass of your car, which was now nothing more than scrap metal.

▪︎Superman, the defender of justice, landed right next to your car, using his infrared vision to see your mangled body inside the vehicle.

▪︎His face filled with horror.

▪︎Why always an innocent person? A choked sob, his eyes full of remorse as he saw you, a pool of blood and broken bones.

▪︎It was not the first time he had a lapse, but it was the first time it cost a human and innocent life.

▪︎The worst part was that you were young, with a long life ahead of you, and his carelessness took that gift away. What would happen to your family when they found out? How would they feel knowing that Superman, the so-called greatest hero, couldn’t save you?

▪︎He was devastated.

▪︎Until, to his surprise, you got up. Your body began to regenerate, bones rejoining, skin closing over the wounds. Superman watched you in disbelief, his hands trembling.

▪︎“Can’t you really be more careful?” you said, your voice filled with exhaustion, brushing off the dust as if nothing had happened. The hero was left speechless. You were immortal.

▪︎That was where it all began.

A/N - And well, this is just a little Headcanon that might turn into a series (hopefully not, because it would be way too long)

I’ll upload more soon, as well as another DC Yandere series. I’ll also post a few updates to explain some things—no need to read them, but it would be app

P.S.: If you’re a reader of the Silly Little Bat series, don’t worry. I’ll upload chapter three soon.

Don’t forget, if you want to request something, the shop is open

Take a bath!

[fullscoreshenanigans]

Reading these popularity polls and feeling like I'm going lowkey insane

(WSJ Chapter 102 Popularity Poll, released September 7, 2018)

(Official Anime Site's 4th Anniversary Popularity Poll, conducted in August 2020)

(VIZ February 2021 Popularity Poll)

Anna being more popular in fanon that Don illustrates the phenomon of a fandom being willing to do one of their least favorite things (appreciate a female character) in order to avoid doing another one of their least favorite things (appreciate a character of color)

[peoniesnro]

Closure | One shot

Synopsis - You first crossed paths with him at a club, where he fucked you on the hood of a stranger’s car. The second time, Taehyung found you at the house of the girl he was seeing, and you let him take you in your shared bathroom, the lock barely holding. He became your anchor, and you became his sun and moon. Now, all you want is one more chance—to tell each other ‘I love you’.

Paring- Kim Taehyung × Reader

Genre - Well, I have no idea which genre this falls into.

Warnings - Public sex/ semi public sex/ grinding/ breast play/ nipple play/ unprotected sex(this is a fic)/penetrative sex/word 'slut' and 'whore'/ oral(male recieving)/ fingering/ handjob/ shower sex/ orgasm denials/edging/implied bondage/alcohol consumption/ smoking/ angst/ I don't know what else but huge SMUT warning and MDNI.

Word count - 11k

a/n - Well well, while I was peacefully raising my first born (In Another Universe), I got distracted by this song (Sweet music) and Kim Taehyung. So, I gave birth to this. Hope you'll enjoy!

Sequel

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s really bad when the whole world revolves around one person. When that one person is gone. The whole world crumbles. That’s what happened to Taehyung. His whole world fell down. Crumbled. Crushed. And he became a shell. Empty.

A soulless creature who wanders the earth. Nothing made him happy. Nothing made him laugh. Nothing gave his vacant eyes life. There was a time he wanted nothing but to be gone. It was his friends who kept him alive. They hold on to him. With an invisible string tied onto their hands. A single tug on that string, they came crashing like a storm. Even though that tug was barely there. Never allowed those unshed tears to consume Taehyung up. Made sure he is breathing. Sleeping. And everything in between. Taehyung became nothing but a burden on his friends’ shoulders.

He wanted to be something else, to be honest. Something else that wasn’t a soul-withered husk. Wanted the hollow feeling inside him to vanish. Wanted to feel something. Something other than the pain. Wanted to laugh. At least smile. Manage his life like a normal person would. Do something other than emptying bottle after bottle of alcohol. Feel his heart beats. But everything seemed impossible in his eyes. He would never be happy again. Never laugh again. He would always be the hollow shadow. Hiding from the world. Hiding from that ray of sunshine.

That’s what he thought. At least until this moment. The moment when he is lying in a stranger’s bed. In the darkness. Listening to water running. Imagining her under the shower. In this moment, he can feel his heart beats. Madly. Violently. He can feel him breathing peacefully. Brain quiet. Blissful. Basking in the aftermath of a good orgasm. He feels alive. For the first time in a year and a half. He feels alive.

.....................................

Sometimes, just sometimes, despite everything, Taehyung hates his friends. Like he hated Jungkook when he asked him to go out earlier tonight. He hated him for making him do something he didn’t want. For not letting him drown in his anguish. He simply wasn’t feeling it. To be in a crowded club. To buy drinks for a nameless woman he would meet. Get drunk with them. Dance while groping their slender curves. Only to feel nothing. Get high. To a point he would not remember his own name and end up sleeping with that woman. Regret everything in the following morning. Drown in guilt. He wasn’t feeling it. But Jungkook and Jimin always find their way.

“She’s fucking gone, Taehyung. Fucking gone. You need to move the fuck on.”

Taehyung hated Jungkook for saying that. Because in his mind, that wasn’t true.

“It’s been more than a year, Kim Taehyung. How are you still in denial. You’re going out tonight. It’s better to get wasted together than alone.”

Taehyung hated Jimin for saying that out loud. It can’t be that long.

In the end, somehow, they won. Taehyung found himself on one of the bar stools. Lost in a fog. No jokes, no laughter, reached his ears. He intended to keep it that way. Just listen to his friends laugh. Ignore their desperate attempts to make him laugh. Until the barman will ask them to move away. Stop crowding the bar. He didn’t intend to, however, turn around before barman asked them to do so. Didn’t expect to bump into someone. On top of everything, he certainly didn’t expect that someone on his way to change something in him. Change things for a third time. In a club. As before, in bygone echoes.

The moment her drink splashed on his shirt; Taehyung felt his heart beats. As if it was the first beat of a heart. The moment her panicked, doe eyes locked in his eyes, Taehyung felt his lung deflate. The pressure on them was gone. The moment she started apologising over and over again, Taehyung felt his entire body calm down. The pain subsided. The moment when she tried to wipe his wet shirt. The moment she touched him, Taehyung felt everything he had been wanting to feel. The electrifying, burning sensation. The sensation that made his head spin and breath hitch. But what sealed the deal was her words.

“I’m really sorry, sailor. Wasn’t looking where I was going.”

That’s exactly how you said it.

“Whatever you wish to buy me, sailor.”

.....................................

You stood in a crowded club. In a dark secluded corner. Watching two people on the dance floor. Drunk. High. Dancing. Grinding. You knew how this one would end. Had seen how each and every club session ended. In a bed with different woman each time. You wanted to stop him all those times. You couldn’t. No matter how hard you tried. So, you learned to move on with that. This day, however, when you watched Taehyung’s hand sneak under her crop top. Watched his lips pepper kisses on her neck, jaw and every inch of skin he could find. Watched his eyes getting darker and more hooded. You knew something was changed. Something was different.

You know it has changed.

.....................................

Now

All those time Taehyung ended up on some random woman’s bed, he regretted it immediately. In the very moment his high faded, he regretted everything. Made sure he disappear into his miserable life the as soon as he could. This day though, he isn’t regretting anything. He didn’t run away, and he doesn’t plan to. He is waiting patiently for her to join him again. Maybe it’s bad. Maybe he is wrong. He is doing something wrong, isn’t he?

He feels guilty to a certain extent. But this time it’s not entirely towards you. It’s partially toward her. Because despite everything, it’s the memory of you that made him follow her. She is not like you. Not completely at least. But it’s the same kind of aura. The kind of aura that made him follow. You and she both are like magnets. Magnets that pulled him. Like he was spell bounded. Made his heart skip beats. She made him lose himself in a reverie. Made him travel through time. To a day he felt same kind of spell bound sensation.

To the day he met you on a crowded club.

.....................................

Six years ago

Taehyung had never felt such kind of feeling. A feeling of content simply by looking at someone. He felt satisfied. It was as though his heart found a place to rest. Every moment stretched. The world blurred around him. You hadn’t even noticed him. Were just enjoying your company on a booth. You weren’t drunk. Taehyung could tell that you weren’t. Just tipsy. Tipsy enough to laugh loudly for whatever your friends said, which was probably not that funny.

Subjects involving women were never a problem for him. But that day, he almost didn’t make his move. If it wasn’t for Jimin and Jungkook, he would have never talked to you. It was a gentle push on his back that made him approach you. With clammy hands and a pounding heart. He was nervous. So nervous that his stomach hurt. Yet, the moment you caught him approaching. In the moment you smiled. A stellar collision occurred. Oh, how sweet your smile was. How he thought you were the type to be timid and innocent. He read you completely wrong. And he loved the surprise. Loved when you turned out be a vixen. His vixen.

Of course, he ended up buying you a ‘Sex on the Beach’, when you asked him to buy whatever he wanted. And you didn’t like it.

“Let me guess, you’ve never had to try now, have you?”

“Oh, no. I’ve had to try pretty hard sometimes. Can I buy you something else?”

“Nah, this is fine.”

When you said yes to dance. On the crowded dance floor, your body pressed against his, Taehyung was in a bliss. Every single movement of your body. Every time you brushed against him. He felt his blood boil. Rushing southward. Making his mouth dry. Heart hammering inside his ribcage. And you knew what you were doing. You knew you had him wrapped around your pinkie finger. You knew his brain is short-circuiting when you pressed your tits on to him. Hands curling around his neck. Mouth hovering over his. Breath mingling. He smelled the alcohol on you. It was intoxicating. The way your breasts peeked through your low neckline. The way they were pressing onto his chest was captivating. Made his dick twitch. Painful. And you allowed him to do whatever he wanted. Just stared into his eyes when he grabbed you by your hips. Pressed you onto his throbbing dick. You sighed blissfully. Almost like a moan. And Taehyung nearly came in his pants. You moved your body against him. Pressed your tummy onto his hardened member. Almost pressed your lips into his. And then pulled away. Smirked.

“Life isn’t this easy. You should try harder sailor.”

.....................................

Six years ago

When that awfully good-looking man approached you, you never in a million years thought you would seal the your fate with him. He looked the type to be able to make you cum more than once for the night. And disappear right afterward. And you were fine with it. Just wanted to get laid, and he was the catch of the night.

You had your ways with men. Rules you made for yourself. To maintain a sense of power on your mind. To not let men have you used, and left unsatisfied, not being able to cum at least for once. Rules for one-night stands.

Rule one: you always made them desperate. Men are easy. You don’t have to try hard. Just having pair of tits are enough. Taehyung seemed to be the same kind of man to go on his knees for a peek of your tits. Oh, how wrong you were. The moment you turned around, you expected him to follow you. That’s how the horny men you met in clubs acted. Desperate.

He didn’t. Neither followed you nor approached you again. You regretted it. Regretted not going with the flow and let him have his way with you. Kept sneaking glances toward him. And he took his sweet time. Enough time for you to down three more drinks. Enough time for you to reluctantly agree to joined someone else on the dance floor.

That’s when he nearly made the chairs fly in the air. Stormed to you. Grabbed you by the wrist. Pressed his lips to yours. Nothing was said. No questions were asked. Just came and kissed you. Hard. Bit into your lower lip. Made you moan. Took his chance by sneaking his tongue into your mouth. And you moaned again. Your own rules started to crumble. You kissed him back. Lapped your tongue against his. Ignored your friends’ incredulous looks. Ignored the betrayed look on your supposed one-night stand’s. Just allowed Taehyung to guide you back to the dance floor while still kissing you. You decided you won’t pull away until he did. Not even if you fell dead without being able to breathe. Fortunately, he did pull away. You didn’t die.

Pressed his forehead to yours. Breathing rapid. Snaked his hands around your waist. Pulled you onto him.

“Don’t play.”

“I wasn’t playing.”

“You can’t make me rock hard and walk away. And find another man.”

“I didn’t do anything to make you hard, Taehyung.”

“You exist.”

You lied. You did everything to make him hard. Played well to make him desperate. Even though it was subtle. Was so happy he came back. Your rules had been thrown out the window long ago. He made your heartbeat stop just with his words. Made your cunt drip by just kissing. But where’s the fun when you just give in? Were just curious to know his limits. It was fun teasing.

“Sorry I did that. Look like I must apologise.”

Pressed your palm onto his toned chest. Pushed him slightly away. Let your hand wander down. Through his toned chest and abs. Felt how he tightened his muscles under your touch. Stopped right at his belt. Watched his breath hitch. Anticipation firing in his eyes. You smiled wickedly at that. Let your hand go even further down, caressing -or rather grazing- his clothed cock with the back of your hand. Taehyung groaned. Grunted. Bucked his hips into your hand. Oh, he was desperate. Just had good restraint. You had good restraint too. You hoped to keep playing the game. Taehyung didn’t. Maybe he didn’t have good restraint. Before you knew it, he had turned you around. Your back against his chest. Groaned again. This time in your ear. And your walls crumbled, completely. You willingly handed the power over to him.

“Don’t play. I’m so fucking hard it hurts.”

“Yeah? What should I do about it?.”

“You little vixen. I asked you not to play.”

“I am most definitely not playing Kim Taehyung. What should I do about it?”

He never answered that question. Just dragged you away from the dance floor all of a sudden. You let him. It was you who were waiting in anticipation then. Couldn’t help the sly smile on your face. He was hard to read. He appeared to be nervous. Timid. Subby. But he was manhandling you. And you were allowing it. Allowing him to drag you to a booth. Not private. Just empty. As luck would have it, it was empty. Sat back while pulling you to straddle him. You had no idea what he was playing at. You’d done some exciting shits, from fucking in a bathroom stall to car sex. Public sex? You hadn’t. And you didn’t know if you liked it or not. Made you nervous.

“We are in public, Taehyung.”

“I know.”

“You know? What are you trying to...”

“You asked me what you should do about it? This.”

He placed his hands under your knees. Pulled. Made you properly sit on his lap. Your already soaked cunt, pressed right against his rock-hard dick. Grabbed from your hips and pressed you further down. Down onto his dick. You both moaned. But you moaned a little harder. Your skirt ridden up. Flimsy material of your lacy panties bushing against your soaked folds and his pants. You wanted them to be gone. Both your panties and his pants.

“Grind.”

“What?”

“You heard me. Grind on me.”

“But we are in public.”

“Don’t care vixen. You asked me what you should do- well, it’s your fault I’m painfully hard. So do something about it. Grind. Like a bitch in heat hm? Be good?”

Oh, how the man who practically stuttered when he first reached you has changed. You loved it. Who needs power after all? You had read him wrong. He wasn’t the type to be subby. He wasn’t going to play your game. You had two options. Either to back away or let him have his way. You simply chose the latter. You didn’t need power. Nodded. Started slowly moving your hips. Careful experimental rubs at first. He encouraged you. Bucked his hips upwards. Into your soaked cunt. Moaned. And the world around you disappeared. It was him who left on your world. Him only.

“Fuck like that. Keep going.”

“Wha.... What if someone sees us.”

“Let them. Let’s give them a show. Hm?”

Your blood was boiling. Cunt dripping. For the first time in your life, you allowed a man to play you. Like the way he wanted. And it was exhilarating. To let him handle you. Do things to you. Stopped trying to be smug and cocky. Became pliant. Found out that you like the idea of being seen. Moaned shamelessly to his words. He smirked. Bucked his hips more into you. Controlled your movements with his hands on your hips. And you did as he asked. Grind on him like a bitch in heat. Taehyung glanced towards where your cunt was dripping onto him. Moaned.

“Fuck baby... Like that... keep going. Look how you’re dripping. Make a mess baby. “

“I... I nee... need more.”

“Yeah? You need more? I’ll give you more. Just keep going huh? Be a good slut for me.”

You listened to a man for the first time in your life. Quickened your movements. Followed his gaze. Watched how you were staining on his pants. Made your head spin. Grabbed onto his shoulders for leverage. Pushed your cunt harder on him. Felt the knot on your tummy tightened. Couldn’t care anymore about being on public. Of someone catching you. It was so good. Not enough but so good. Taehyung looked into your eyes. His eyes were blown out with lust. Pressed a kiss on to your lips before removing his hands from your hips. Only to snaked it between your bodies and pressed two fingers on your clit. Over your panties. Started rubbing your clit softly.

“Shit you are so fucking hot. So fucking hot dripping on to me. On a club full of people. So hot rubbing your cute cunt on a stranger. Keep going princess...”

You nearly cried. The knot tightened and tightened. Kept grinding. Felt dizzy. Your cunt on fire. And right at the moment that knot was about to explode Taehyung’s hand left your sopping cunt. Grabbed onto your hips back and stilled you. Pressed you hard down. You whined so loud. Loud enough that you were sure so many people looked at you. It was intense how he robbed you of that orgasm. Intense enough that your thighs trembled.

“No.... I was... So.. so close.”

“I know”

“Why did you do that then?”

“Don’t want this to end. Want to keep you dripping for me as long as I can.”

A shiver ran through your spine. You stared into his eyes. They were beautiful, blown out with lust. Had no idea what came over you when you started kissing him madly. Pressing your lips into his harder. Sucking on his bottom lip and then on his tongue. Taehyung just let you had it. Encouraged you with moans and groans. Started bucking his hips again onto your sensitive pussy. In a minute you were back to grinding. Kissing. Staring into his deep dark eyes. His hands were everywhere. On your hips. Thighs. Back. Ass. And on your boobs. He squeezed them, hard enough you cried out. Circled your nipples through the dress.

“Can I pull this down. Wanna see your pretty tits.”

“Fuck Taehyung. What if....”

“No one’s looking. Please. Please fuck.”

He didn’t wait for your yes. Not that you planned to say no. He was irresistible. So, all you did was moan when he swiftly pulled your dress down with your lacy bra. Making your tits bounce in the air.

“Holy fuck. Fuck, you’re beautiful.”

Closed his eyes and groaned. Opened them again. A fire burning in them. It was the most hottest sight, the way he licked his lips before wrapping those wet lips around one of your nipples. Slapped the other tit. Made it bounce. Did it again, and then again and again. All while sucking on your other nipple hard. Teeth grazing. You were a crying mess. There were no restraints left in you. People could see you. Your naked chest, bouncing under his little slaps. You couldn’t care, however. Not when his hot tongue was swirling around your hardened buds. Not when his lips were sucking on your nipples like his life depended on it. Like you were his source of life. Not when he kept his eyes on your face all the time. He popped your nipple out of his mouth and put the other one in his mouth. Did the same thing to the free one. Made it bounce. Pulled away. Kissed your nipples like he was gone mad. Squeezed them together. Buried his face between them. Groaned into your skin. That made your hips rolled faster, bringing you to the edge again.

“I’m gonna cum. Taehyung I... I... please I need to cum.’

For the first time in your life, you asked permission before cumming. Begged from a man for your release. Good thing was that you loved every moment of it. And he stilled you again. You were devastated. Didn’t even realize you let the tears gathered on your eyes to rolled down. Wetting your cheeks. Taehyung watched you shatter. Hitched your bodice up again, covering your assaulted tits. Pressed his lips on to your collar bones. Peppered you with kisses. Patted your ass.

“C’mon move baby.”

“Where? Where are we going?”

“To make you cum. Want you to cum on my cock. As much as I love having you rub on me like a needy slut. I want to feel your cunt around me. And as much as I love giving people a show, you’re too pretty to be shown.”

Both of your intended destination was a bathroom stall. It was occupied with a long queue of patrons. No fucks were allowed there. And it felt like the end of the world for you. Never have been that turned on in your life. Taehyung was something else.

Fortunately, Taehyung looked like his world ended that moment too. Pressed few kisses to your lips needily before suggesting, leaving the club. That was the fastest yes you gave someone. Didn’t know where you were about to go when you exited the club. Not being able to take two steps without kissing. Didn’t know how your back ended up pressing against a car door. Kissing like it was the last time you would get to kiss someone. Just a mess of tongue and teeth. You were the first to pulled away first with a pop. Him chasing your mouth. Trail of saliva connecting your still wet lips.

“Shit I can’t wait anymore Taehyung. I fucking can’t.”

“Fuck don’t say that. I’ll fuck you here.”

“Then you should.”

You may have given the controller to him willingly. Still, you had some tricks to play the game, hidden up your sleeves. You pulled one of them. Hiked your dress up and pushed your panties aside. Kept staring into his lust-filled eyes. Circled your clit for a second before plunged two fingers inside your quivering, needy hole. Moaned intentionally loudly, making him curse. Pulled your fingers back and held them in front of his eyes, glistening with your arousal.

“See… so fucking wet. I’m dripping.”

“Shit! You needy slut.”

Taehyung grabbed your wrist. Pressed his entire body into yours and caged you between his radiant form and the car. Brought your fingers to his mouth. Wrapped his lips around your fingers. You didn’t know who moaned louder. You were uncontrollably rubbing your thighs together. Taehyung sucked your fingers clean. Let your hand go and cupped your cheeks with one of his hands. Kissed you again, generously allowing you to taste how sweet you were. Pulled away.

“You want to get fuck here? Out in the open? Are you sure?”

“Yes. Never been so sure Taehyung.”

“What my slut wants, she gets.”

It was only a surprised yelp that escaped your mouth when he yanked your figure on to the hood of that car. Hoisted you up on the hood. Buried his face on your neck. Peppering wet kissed across your honeyed skin. Tongue poking out. Teeth grazing. Sucking and indefinitely giving you some purple marks. Made your toes curl and cunt clenched.

“This isn’t your car, is it Taehyung?”

“No… No, fuck. I don’t know whose car this is. Do you care? Do we have to wait.”

“No no no. I don’t care. Keep going please.”

You wrapped your legs around his waist, bringing him impossibly close. Taehyung chuckled. Darkly. Peck your lips.

“You really are a slut. Aren’t you baby. A needy slut?”

Mumbled. You didn’t answer that question. Only got to nod your head when he slipped his hand inside your already ridden up dress. Hooked his finger on your panties to push it aside. Grazed his fingers over your slicked slit. Made electric sensations run through your body. Kept looking at your fucked-up face when two of his slender fingers teased your hole. For a moment. And then he was pushing past your entrance, in a one swift go. A strangled cry left your throat, your own hand grabbing from his wrist. Your needy hole sucking up his fingers greedily. Started pumping those slender fingers into you without warning. Curled them a bit. You were beyond surprised that he hit the spot right there. He smirked when you reeled at his fingers. Added another. Stretched you wide.

“Fuck baby. You’re wet. So fucking wet. And tight. You gonna fucking kill me. You know. Fuck my fucking dick hurts.”

His voice was shaky when he mumbled against your lips. Hips bucking into your thigh for some kind of friction. That was your sign to do something about his pain. Felt bad that you were selfish. Flew toward his belt and unbuckled it in record time. Did the same with his fly. Slipped your hand inside his boxers, feeling his raging hard for the first time. His dick twitched when your fingers lightly grazed it. Curled your delicate fingers around his hot shaft. Made him moan, and wasn’t it the sweetest melody you’ve ever heard. His dick felt damn good on your hand. Twitched agian. So, you squeezed it.

“Harder. Squeeze it harder, princess. Holy fuck!! Like that.”

You obeyed his commands so unlike you. Squeezed his dick and pumped. Grazed your thumb over his tip. And he kept pumping his fingers inside you. You were no longer a part of the earth that day. The breeze didn’t make you realize you were out in the open. The sound of the music didn’t remind you that you were in the parking lot of a club. And you didn’t care about dripping onto someone else’s car hood. You were high. High on Taehyung. Never wanted to pleasure someone else that badly. Never wanted to have someone inside you that badly.

“Please Taehyung. Fuck me now hm?”

From there it didn’t take much more convincing or begging. Taehyung pulled his fingers out of your cunt, making you feel empty and wincing. You did the same. Let his hard cock go. Watched him fumble with his pants for second before he freed his hard dick out. Watched it spring out in the cold air, tip red and angry. Swollen and pre cum leaking. You gulped harshly. That was the most fucking beautiful dick you’ve ever seen. Made your mouth water.

“Fuck I want you in my mouth.”

“Yeah? You want my dick on your slutty mouth? I fucking love the idea baby. Love to see your lips wrapped around me. But my cock will fall down if I don’t fuck you right now.”

That was very dramatic, but you agreed. You felt like you were about to die. Nodded desperately. Spread your legs wide apart. For him and him only. Taehyung chuckled. Pumped himself. And that was a sight for sore eyes. Came closer to you. Only to halt his movement all of a sudden. His smile faltered while you watched.

“What? What is it?”

“A condom. I don’t have one.”

For a second time you felt like your world ended. It was incredulous how he came to a club searching for lay but didn’t have protection with him. Incredulous how that it was your intention, but you didn’t have one either. You gaped at each other. He shivered. Not from cold. Let his cock go so he could grab from your thighs. Looked like he was about to cry.

“Baby, I’m clean I promise. I’ll stop if you want but I’m clean. I really want you. It hurts princess.”

That was a damn risk to take. How did you ever trust a stranger? That could have been the end of your sex escapades. But his words lit a insatiable fire inside you, driving you crazy. So, you nodded, desperately. Making Taehyung sigh in relief.

“I’m clean too.”

That’s all it took him to spring into action. Pushed your thigh further back, hiking your dress up. Stared at your sopping cunt and your wet panties sticking into your core. Cursed. Asked you to push your panties aside and aligned his tip with you. Silently asked you if you were ready and with one nod from you, he entered you in one go. No slow penetrations but a hard thrust in that made you nearly scream. Seized your hips, pushed you even more into him. Stilled you, while his cock was buried deep inside you. Breathed into your mouth. Took a moment. Allowed you to feel how perfectly he slotted inside you. Your walls stretched apart. He had girth and length to made you fill to the brim. Made you feel how pleasurable to have him stretched you and how good it was to feel his dick twitch.

“Move please.”

Every second that passed, only added fuel to the fire inside you. Even when he was deep inside you, you wanted more. You bucked your hips onto his. Grind. Gave him the best puppy eyes you could muster, and he listened. To your desperate plea. Held on to your hips from one hand for leverage and made your thigh pushed onto you with the other. Gave an experimental roll of his hips. Got you reeling. Gave another and then another, until he was thrusting into you fast. Hard. Your toes curling and thighs shaking. His eyebrows pulled together in concentration. Mouth agape. Short quick breath nibbled your lips. He was intoxicating. And you were drunk on him. Each and every pleasurable thrust, each drag on your fluttering walls brought you to ecstasy. And the moment when he pushed his hand under your ass to pull you slightly up, the moment his tip hit you at that one spot, you allowed yourself to cry.

“Fuck, like that baby. Cry dumb on my cock. You fucking feel like heaven. You wanna cum? Touch your cute little clit for me baby. Make yourself cum. Cream my cock.”

Your hand reached to your clit between your bodies so fast. Started rubbing figure eights furiously. Drove yourself into insanity and dragged Taehyung with you to that. He picked up his phase. Fingers digging on to your thighs harsh that they left marks for weeks. You were sure it didn’t take you more than two fucking minutes to fall apart. His name was the only thing left on your tongue as you cried for him. Cried from the immense pleasure. Dragged your high for as long as you can. Stopped rubbing your clit when it became too much but Taehyung didn’t even slow down. Overwhelming you. Making your legs tremble. Making you whine and plead.

“Can’t stop. Fuck I can’t baby. Sorry, but you feel so damn fucking good. Fucking wet. I can’t stop. C’mon cum again. Cum for me like a good whore. One more time. Please..”

A new wave of arousals shot through you at his words. Made you drip more on his cock with your tummy fluttering. Held onto his shoulders for dear life and let him pound onto your abused cunt. Happily, allowed him to pull the neckline of your dress back, freeing your tits. Moaned when he started sucking and squeezing on them. Came apart for a second time while he started at your bouncing tits like he was enthralled. You were absolutely right to think he would be able to make you cum more than once. He made you cum twice and then thrice. You were a crying mess sprawled on some stranger’s car after falling apart for a third time. Taehyung was hanging on a thread himself. Covered in sweat. The hottest thing you’ve ever seen.

“I’m close baby. So close. Keep squeezing me like that. Like good girl huh? God, you’re fucking perfect.”

And he had a dirty mouth. You loved it. You loved every moment of it.

“Shit I’m gonna cum. Where? Where do you…. want…”

That was a question to which you should give a straight ‘pull out’. He was a stranger. You were already risking the STDs. That was the day you learned that people make stupid decisions when they are drunk and high. It doesn’t matter on what.

“Inside please. Want you to cum inside me.”

“Fucking hell!... You want a fucking stranger to cum inside you? Fuck. How much of a whore you could be?”

“Don’t care. Please Taehyung inside. Fill me up.”

“Fuck yes. Yes. Yes. Gonna fill you up. Fill you up with cum. And you gonna go home like that. My cum dripping down your thighs. Like the good slut you are.”

“Yes, fuck yes. I promise.”

Pathetic how you cried for a shot of cum. But was worth every minute of it when he finally broke apart. Shattered. Cursed out aloud. It was the pure ecstasy when you felt his hot cum spilled inside you. And it was heartbreaking how you wanted to hold onto him forever when he hid his face on your neck. Whining. His dick still throbbing inside you.

It was heartbreaking, that everything ended.

.....................................

Five years and seven months ago

Taehyung had never thought the best sex of his life would be on top of a stranger’s car. He never thought that fuck would mess him up so much that he couldn’t sleep for days. Never thought that a one-night stand would ruin him for anyone else. That he would have to fuck his fist to the memory of you for any kind of relief. On top of everything, he never thought he would ever see you again. But then he did. Unexpectedly. After five months. On his colleague slash the girl he was in a situation ship’s house. He was there with her to pick some documents up. Something she forgot.

He stood in the living room while she rummaged through her house. That’s when someone descended the stairs in such a hurry that they skipped a stair. Held on to the banister to save their neck. Eyes landed on him at the same time his landed on them, clutching the banister for dear life. You. You who was his best fuck for the life. You, in front of him again in a baggy white T-shirt and blue shorts. You who stared at him with an open mouth, just like he did. You both blinked at each other. Until his colleague slash situationship realized you were there. She looked at you and then at Taehyung and told the last thing he wanted to hear.

“Oh, meet my sister Taehyung. Say hi sis, this is Taehyung. The man I’ve told you. I think I left that in my room. Gimme a min Tae”

And she disappeared through a door to her right. Left you and him alone. He watched you regain your composure and got onto your feet again. Waited till you descended the stairs and approached him. You smiled at him. Your sweet smile. The sweetest. His heart stopped. The world blurred, like the first day he saw you.

“Well, hello Mr. Kim Taehyung.”

“Hello Vixen.”

Ever since then he found a reason to be at your place. He was a selfish little shit for doing that. To use your sister just to find a way to you. He knew he was giving your sister hope by visiting her almost every day. For so many dumb reasons. Yet, he couldn’t help it. Just one sneak at you made him want to dance. Made him feel alive. He felt like a stupid teenager. So, he kept being selfish. At first, you were surprised to see him for a second time at your place. Then day by day you realized why he was there. You were a smart girl after all. Proved to him that you were indeed a vixen. Stopped wearing those baggy T- shirts and replaced them with flimsy tank tops. Wore booty shorts instead of sweats. Wore see through blouses with no bras. Made his brain short circuit and dick throb at how your nipples peaked through. Treated him like your sister’s boyfriend. That annoyed him to no end. They weren’t in a relationship at all. But you knew how to torture his mind and body. With your occasional slutty smiles. With your body innocently and accidentally brushing against him here and there.

Still, he never made a move. Never grew the balls to stop playing his cowardly games. Simply was the biggest coward on the damn earth. Until that day you brought a man home. While he was lounging on your couch. With your sister. In a sour mood because you weren’t home. And then there you came, with someone else’s hand on your waist. Introduced him as a friend of yours. Invited him to your room. And Taehyung was burning. Burning with a fire that set by you. A fire that ate him inside out. He was seeing red because how jealous he was. He wanted to strangle that man. Wanted to fuck you in front of him. Couldn’t think of anything else other than what you might be up to in your room. A room he had never been to.

That’s when you came downstairs again. Your shower basket in your hand. Taehyung has been in your house long enough to know you share a one bathroom and it’s on the down floor. Knew you were about to take a shower. It made his sour mood worse. Didn’t want another man to see you in your damp hair. With your skin glistening after water freshened you.

He was only seeing blind red when he waited until your sister went to grab something. He was enthralled by the jealousy when he found himself striding to your bathroom. Knew the lock of the door was broken. Funny how your family has been screaming ‘I’m taking the bathroom’ before anyone of you used it. He stood there for a minute. Listening to the sound of water. Imagined you naked under that shower. That thought alone made his dick hard. Wasn’t thinking clearly when he pushed the door open. You didn’t notice nor did you hear anything until he was inside, closed the door behind him and walked up to the little shower box. Yanked the glass door open. That’s only you jumped at the sound, turned around startled. Eyes wide, and taking him in. Hands went to cover your chest.

“Fuck, Taehyung, what are you doing?”

You were innocently and genuinely surprised. Taehyung on the other hand was spell bounded. Enchanted by your naked little figure in front of him. Water cascading across your honey skin. Through your slender curves. He ogled at your breasts and the way they pushed higher with your hands. Fuck weren’t you gorgeous. The most beautiful thing he has ever seen. How he always regretted and blamed him for rushing things with you that night. For not being patient enough to take you to a private place and get you stark naked. For not being able to see you in all your glory. Sue him for ogling at you like that. But you were just perfect.

“Aren’t you a fucking pervert Kim Taehyung?”

When he looked at your face, he knew there was no malice in your words. There was a sly smile. Your sweet slutty smile.

“I am. I am a fucking pervert.”

He knew you enjoyed the snap of his limit. Knew you were happy that you made him follow you into the shower. Knew you expected him to act on his impulses under your tortures one day. You didn’t, however, expect him to be stormed into the shower box. Your eyes bulged out when he pushed you back on to the slippery wall tiles. The sound you let out when he pressed his lips onto yours made his tummy flutter. He didn’t care about his clothes getting wet. Didn’t care how he would explain this to anybody later. About your sister being there in the same house. It was only you in his eyes. Only you when he tasted you after so long. Your intoxicating taste. Your tongue lapped against him.

It happened all fast. The way he discarded his clothes. Started savoring every inch of your body with his hand and lips. You mumbled something about how you shouldn’t do that there. He simply didn’t listen. He was thinking with his raging boner. Made you go on your knees and choked on his dick. Eyes tearing up and gagging around him. Thrusted into your mouth and praised you for being a good slut. His slut. Pulled out from your mouth when his balls started to tighten.

“No don’t do that. Wanted you to cum in my mouth.”

“Next time, baby.”

“Next time?”

“Yes, next time. I promise.”

It was adorable how you whined for his cum. Even adorable how you, a little vixen, turned pliant under him. A whiny mess. Made his dick throb. He ignored your cautions of getting caught and being in your house, inside a closed door which wasn’t locked. Was so happy to think, that man you bought home was currently waiting for you while he hoisted you up. Pressed you against the wall and lined his throbbing dick at your sopping pussy. His brain was malfunctioning when he started to push inside you. This time he did it slowly. Painfully slow for both of you. It was euphoric how your walls fluttered around his girth. Was head spinning the feeling of your cute cunt struggle to take him.

He knew he was a goner when you started squeezing on him. When you started to beg for him to move. So, he did. You were irresistible. Thrusted into your quivering cunt with everything he got. Made you cum so hard on his dick. Picked up his phase when you cried out for him. Didn’t stop until you were trembling badly. Didn’t stop when your sister knocked on your door and you had to answer. Made sure you screamed his name when that friend of yours did the same and asked you what’s taking so long. Best part was you came at that moment, bringing him over the edge with you.

“Fuck like that slut. Cum on my cock while he listens”

“Taehyung god. Want you to cum inside me.”

“I will baby. I’ll make sure you’re always full of my cum now on.”

.....................................

Five years ago

Ever since that day, he kept his promise toward you.

Next time, I promise

There were so many next times. How you didn’t get caught by your sister was a miracle. Only that your friend was gone by the time you left the bathroom. You snuck clothes for Taehyung that day. Even managed to keep him for the night. And he stopped coming to your place with your sister. Instead, popped up on your porch after few days with orchid. You snorted so hard at that. He pouted so hard at that. You felt your heart swell. Had no other options but kiss that pout away. You sneaked him inside. Every night from that day. To your attic room.

That’s how he slowly became an inseparable part of your life. From your endless sex to cuddles on the bed. From your sneaky outings to just sitting on your windowsill. In the middle of the night. Smoking cigarettes with your window open. Just to let the smoke go out so your mom won’t find out. Sharing the same cigarette and laughing about his silly jokes. Getting your lives startled out of your bodies whenever a knock came on your door. Throwing the cigarette out of the window and waving the smoke out. Pushing a grinning Taehyung under your bed and sit on you bed very non-suspiciously when your mom or sister poked their head inside your room. You lived a teenage life with him when you both were adults.

Made endless excuses every time you spend a day at his place. Invited him over to yours whenever you were home alone. Made him read books with you. He never liked it. Preferred to gape at your face more.

“You don’t have to read if you don’t want to.”

“Yeah?”

“Of course, Tae. You can do anything you want.”

“Let’s fuck, then.”

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

“You always take control over me. I kind of like it. But, still Tae, I prefer to have some control in my life sometimes. Like this. So, no. No fucking.”

“Oh c’mon, take the control then.”

“You should be more careful when you speak Tae Tae.”

“I know what I’m saying. Take the control vixen. Tie me up to your bed.”

And you did. Got revenge for all the time he edged you. Edged him until tears rolled down his cheeks. Kept his cock warm inside you for hours. Knew he would take revenge one day, but you lived in those moments. With him. Lived an exhilarating life until you met the first boulders together. Getting caught by your sister being the first. Walked up to him after a huge fight at your house. Knocked on his door to say you should stop your fuck buddy relationship. Almost left him there when he yelled.

“I love you. I fucking love you stupid vixen. You can’t just walk away.”

Those were the most beautiful words you’ve ever heard in your life. You had frozen when he shouted at your back. Had gaped into his face when he ran to you and turned you to face him.

“I know you love me too”

“Don’t be so sure sailor.”

You weren’t feeling cocky that day. Your throat was dry like you ate sand. And he didn’t grin at your words like other days. Watched you with a stern face. Made you realize there will be no sun rising in your world without him.

“Yes. Yes, fuck. I love you too. I fucking love you too…”

And he grinned. Kissed the life out of you. Told you he will walk with you to end of the world. Cheeky. You said so. He didn’t care. And he did walk with you. He walked with you when you cried over unanswered emails from hundreds of book publishers. He walked with you until you finally resolved things with your sister. He walked with you when you eventually received an answer from a little publishing group. He walked with you when you finally published a book. He was there with you each and every step.

You went from strangers at a club to buying a house together. His friends became your friends. Yours became his. You slotted together like puzzle pieces. Fought and cried over silly matters. And then one of you pouted so hard until the other forgave. Slow danced in the living room and threw your own little musical shows. Him just wearing a towel and you in your bathrobe. Hair dryer was your mic, and he was your only admirer. So was you for him. You lived in those moments. With him. Through every up and down. You loved him. You still do. Dearly.

.....................................

One and a half year ago

He and you fought. Not always but sometimes, like all the other couples do. But ever since you started your new job at a new publishing agency, you have fought a little more. The reason was your agent. Kim Namjoon. Taehyung always despised him. Maybe he wasn’t fair. But the guy always had heart eyes when he looked at you. Taehyung was still obsessed with you after all those times. He was freaking jealous to see Namjoon all over you. And you knew that too. Knew Namjoon wasn’t just being a friend. Still, you wanted your job. Taehyung understood. Understood that it was your dream, knew you loved him more than your own world. And even with that his jealousy side sometime won.

That’s what happened that day. When you were about to leave for a meeting with Kim Namjoon. Taehyung was frustrated. Devastated. And he regretted it immediately after you left. Regretted that he called you an attention seeking slut and asked you to do whatever the fuck you wanted.

Why the fuck you can’t understand what I’m… No. Guess what (….), go fucking ahead and do whatever fuck you want. You’re nothing but an attention seeking slut…

You weren’t. You was nothing but his entire world. His sun and moon. His little princess. The most lovable, kindest, and gentle person on the world. You were that high spirited bubble that made his world colorful in the darkest of night. He never said that to you, however. Instead, he called you an attention seeking slut. And when he wanted to say sorry and take everything back. It was too late. He never got to tell you that.

The moment he received that call from an unknown number, his only chance to tell you that you were his world was robbed from him. A single phone call was all it took to let him know that he will never be able to tell you those things that were left unsaid. The phone call that changed his life, and informed him that they were regretting it to tell him, the car his girlfriend was travelling is crashed. Crushed by a truck. And they were so sorry that you didn’t make it. Taehyung yelled at that person from the top of his lungs. Cursed them for playing funny games with him. Denied it over and over again. Until he couldn’t. In the end he couldn’t. He never got to tell you that you were his sun and moon. You weren’t there anymore.

.....................................

One and a half year ago

It was all a vague memory. The way your heart shattered at his words. The way you shouted back at him. The way you left your home. It all felt like a dream. So did your conversation with Namjoon. All of his questions regarding why you were crying. Hell, you didn’t know you were crying. You shrugged those questions away. But Namjoon was stubborn. Kept asking you questions until you broke into a loud cry that caught his complete attention. His attention, which should have been on the road, instead of on you. You didn’t remember when and where that damn truck appeared but when you noticed and screamed, it was all too late.

You woke up, however. Yes, you did. While it felt like your head spinning. Even with everything, you woke up, only to find your own body lying in the crashed debris of a car. It took you a little while to understand that you were dead. To understand that it was all too late. To remember that you left Taehyung behind. That you stormed out of your home that evening after fighting with him. It was all too late when you turned around and started running toward your house. Too late when you reached your home that Taehyung was already a sobbing wreck on the floor. With Jimin and Jungkook. His head hidden in Jungkook’s chest. He was fucking wailing. Wailing uncontrollably into his friend’s chest. Both of his friends were crying too but Taehyung was struggling to breathe.

“Fuck it was my fault Jungkook-ah. I drove her away... I…I...”

The rest was muffled in Jungkook’s chest.

“Holy fuck, no man. It wasn’t you. No. You didn’t do anything. It was no one’s fault.”

You watched Jungkook sob into Taehyung’s hair. Watched Jimin trap Taehyung between him and Jungkook.

“She would hate herself if she heard you say that. Don’t fucking say that. It wasn’t you. She knows it wasn’t you Tae. She knows.”

Yes. You knew. Yes, Jimin was right that you hated yourself that moment. It wasn’t him. Only if you had listened to him and stayed home. You wanted to console him. Touch him. Kiss him. Say that it’s all okay and there’s no reason to cry. Made him hide his face in your chest like you always did when he was sad. You tried. You tried with all your will. But nothing worked. Nobody bat an eye toward you. Nobody felt you. Heard you. No matter how hard you tried to touch Taehyung. It was all too late. And the last thing you said to him was, that he was a jealous, possessive prick.

You are fucking jealous Taehyung. Fucking jealous I’m making it, don’t you. You fucking jealousy, possessive prick. Guess what? Yes, I’m an attention seeking slut, and I’ll gain all the attention of the world.

Those weren’t true. He wasn’t someone like that. He was your sunshine. The boy who brought flowers for you. For a girl who never received flowers in her life. He never was jealous. Not with you. He was your pillar to hang on to. The only person who believed in you like a moth would follow flame. You wanted to tell that to him. But it was all too late. He didn’t hear you.

.....................................

Now

Ever since that cursed day, you followed Taehyung around. To every place you could. Watched him break apart. Shattering into a million pieces. Watched him die day by day. From crying onto his pillow to stop showing his emotions at all. Watched him become an empty husk. Hollow. And you died all over again with him. You thought all pains would end with death. And there you were burning on a fire that never went off. Shared that hell with Taehyung. Felt helpless when you couldn’t make him eat. Help him sleep. You were a nothing more than a reader of an anguished book. Helpless. Your heart broke each moment passed. Still, all you could do was watch and cry.

Watched him bring women home. Watched him go to their homes. Hell, you followed him even there. Cried your eyes out. It was a tortures mix between seeing him suffer and seeing him with someone else. You were selfish after all. Selfish enough that you couldn’t leave him. Couldn’t leave him in his misery.

Until now, the day everything changed.

You watch him stare at the bathroom door, waiting for her to come. You are in pain. So much pain.

.....................................

Now

Taehyung had waited countless times on your bed until you joined him after your shower. On the days he was too lazy to join you. Even after spending more than three years with you, he always felt giddy when you entered the room just in a towel. Just like how he feels now. To see her enter the room. Just in a towel. It feels wrong because he came here because she reminded him of you. The same kind of aura that pulled him up. It feels wrong because he is comparing her to you. He expects her to be you. She isn’t you. Even though she smiles at him fondly like you always did.

“Stay the night here, sailor?” She mumbles as she throws a T-shirt over her head. Taehyung’s heart stops for a beat again.

Stay here tonight sailor. I’ll find a way to sneak you in.

That’s exactly what you said after he fucked you that day in your family house bathroom.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” She asks again when he doesn’t reply. Climbs onto the bed next to him. Peers at his eyes. Smiles with her eyes. “You should smile more. Like this.” She smiles at him. Pokes at his ribs. Nuzzles his cheek with her nose. “C’mon sailor. It doesn’t cost you to smile.” Wines in complaint and Taehyung can’t help but softly chuckle.

“There you go. You’re fucking beautiful when you laugh.” She says as she keeps poking at his ribs.

“I want to be handsome. Not beautiful.”

“You’re most definitely handsome. Smile some more. Laugh.” She bites onto his cheek. The smile ghosted on his lips breaks into a grin. And then into a laugh. He can’t help it when it naturally comes within his chest. And she laughs too. Aloud.

For the first time after one-and-a-half years Taehyung laughs. Like how he used to do. Like himself. Like he did with you. And she laughs like you. Not in the same way but in the kind of way that makes him relax. In a way that makes his darkest night colorful. She is a rainbow, and you were a sun. She is not you but that’s okay. She can give him hope again. Hope and purpose to live. He can hang onto her. He can laugh.

……

He watches her chest rise and fall while she is sleeping. Looks at her peaceful face.

She’s fucking gone Taehyung. Fucking gone. You need to move the fuck on.

It’s been more than a year Kim Taehyung.

Yes, his friends were right. You were gone. You aren’t coming back. No matter how long he waits. He can’t die. Not anymore. He wants to live. For you. For him. To remember you till the day he dies. To cherish your memory with him. To see what the life will hold for him. He will tell her about you one day. He will heal. Move on. Not forgetting you. No, he can’t do that. You will always be his sun and moon. But he will learn to love again. Learn to live. And he will let go of you.

It hurts. Hurts to think that he will need to finally let go of you. To finally accept that you were gone. Without giving him a chance to let you know how much he loves you. All he wanted was one chance. Just one to tell you that he loves you. To hear you say it back. To apologise. Hold you and kiss you dearly. Tell you that you were his sun and moon. He can’t. He will never have that one opportunity. It’s time he should let you go.

“You are free, my vixen. You can go. I love you but it’s time for you to go.” He mumbles into nothing before closing his eyes. Peaceful for the first time.

.....................................

Now

It hurts. It hurts like hell to hear him say that. To hear him ask you to leave. You don’t want to. The sun will not rise in a world without him. Even though this is neither living nor dying you want to hang onto him. Even though this is an endless pain you want to be with him. Even though you can’t make him happy or laugh, can’t make him live, you want to be there for him.

“That’s your closure (….) You need to move on now.” The sudden voice doesn’t startle you. Not when you are so accustomed to that presence next you. For a year and a half. You turn to look at him.

“What do you mean?” Your voice trembling.

“You couldn’t move on because he held on to you. You were stuck here because you didn’t have your closure to move on. You were stuck to him because he was hanging on to you. You couldn’t leave him when he was suffering. But he is going to be okay.” Namjoon’s voice is soothing. Like always.

“That’s not true. I was here because I wanted to. Because I love him. Because he loves me.” You shake your head in dissent.

“Yes, you both love each other. But sometimes it isn’t enough. You can’t make a difference in his life (….), like you couldn’t all this time. You need to let him live his life. I’m sorry I killed you. I’m sorry I dragged you into this place-”

“It wasn’t your fault, Namjoon. It was nobody’s fault.” At first, you resented him so much. Blamed him for everything. For the pain Taehyung was feeling. But it wasn’t him. You know it wasn’t him.

“Yeah, but I don’t know…. You died (…). He is still alive. Let him live that life. This is your time to move on.” Namjoon looks at you. You can’t make his features in the dark.

It was at your own funeral, sitting on a dark corner, watching Taehyung breaking apart, when you first saw Namjoon. Neither of you made it. And you forgot him until that day. You yelled at him. Accused him for being at fault. Yet, he never left. All those times you watched Taehyung, he was watching you. You knew he loved you more than a friend when you were alive. You knew Taehyung was right. But it wasn’t as if you would choose someone over Kim Taehyung. Not even that person is Kim Namjoon. You are bounded to Taehyung even after your death. Still, you feel gratification towards Namjoon.

“Why didn’t you go Namjoon? Why then, you are here? If I was simply stuck here until Tae gives me my closure. What are you doing here?”

He smiles at you. His dimple smile.

“Maybe you are my closure. You just gave me my closure.”

It wasn’t your fault, Namjoon. It was nobody’s fault.

You gave him his closure. You watch him. He smiles again. It makes sense now. You turn your head to Taehyung, walk over to the bed where he is sleeping with another woman. There’s nothing you can do. You are dead. He is not. You want him to live. A life he will remember. A life where he would always laugh. You need to let him live. There’s pang in your chest. Nothing unfamiliar, that pang was always there.

You watch Taehyung breathe peacefully as he sleeps. After a long time, he is not thrashing. Not crying in his sleep. Doesn’t mumble your name. He is peaceful. You can move on now. He let you go. Tears start rolling on your cheeks. There are so many things that left unsaid. You never got to tell him that how he made you feel alive. That he is the most selfless person you met. That you felt how much he loved you by just the way he looked at you. You didn’t get that chance.

“I never got to tell him sorry Namjoon. Sorry for saying those things to him. Never got to apologize for anything. I don’t want him to think that I hated him. Because I didn’t. I loved him, I love him. I…”

“Trust me he knows (…). He knows you loved him. He knows you love him.”

You don’t believe Namjoon. But what other options do you have. You can’t say sorry to him.

He never blamed you. Not even for leaving him. He is fucking selfless. There are things still unresolved but then why you must go now. You still have to apologize.

You feel Namjoon’s hands wrapped around your trembling figure. From behind.

“You need to go because he knows. He knows you never meant them. He freed you (…)” That was an answer for an unasked question.

Taehyung freed you. You need to free him too. Live him his life. You watch him for another moment. Nod. He knows. You know he knows.

You step forward. A little bit closer to the edge of the bed. Namjoon follows you. Hands never leaving you. You desperately want to feel Taehyung one more time. Just feel his warmth. Desperately want one more day. You wish you had one more day to tell him he was your life line. One more day to tell him you love him. Just for one more time. To hear him say those words back.

I love you. I fucking love you stupid vixen.

“I love you, Kim Taehyung. I always did and always will. I’m sorry I called you those things, but you know that I didn’t mean them don’t you sailor? I didn’t. I should have let you know that you were my anchor. I’m sorry that I left…. Sorry for every fight, every harsh word....” You want to say so much more but words get tangle in your throat. You want to apologise for every time you couldn’t be what he needed. But the words keep sticking to your tongue. Only the ache of what’s unsaid left in you. So, you simply repeat that you love him for a one last time.

You lean down, freeing yourself from Namjoons hands. Stare at the breath-taking face of your lover. Past lover. His flawless skin. The little moles. Sharp jaw. Perfect cupid bow. The man you love. You want them engraved in your memory. What if you forget them? What if you forget how beautiful he is? So, you stare, stare and stare. Until you feel Namjoon’s hand softly graze your shoulder.

You nod, just to let Namjoon know that you’re ready. You’ll let your baby go. Just need one more minute. You use that minute to say you love him once again. Even though he can’t hear. You use that minute to place an invisible kiss to his forehead, like you always did. Even though he can’t feel.

Straighten up. Turn around and take Namjoon’s hand. Let him walk you out. Walking away feels like chains are breaking. The chains that kept you tied up to Taehyung. Weight is lifting but it isn’t relieving. Your story with Kim Taehyung is ending. For real this time.

You don’t know what’s wait for you in other side. You will face that anyway. You will let the sweet boy with starts in his eyes live. You will let the boy who brought you flowers everyday even after you died, bring those flowers for some one else. You will let the boy with his adorable boxy grin laughs, like he did with you. You will leave him behind. To live his life. Even if it means leaving the love that still blinds you.

THE END.

[soulofapatrick]

Kiss Me Tired - Percy Jackson x Female Reader

Summary: you can't sleep so go to find your best friend - Percy

Words: 1.9k

warnings: none

Y/N’s POV

I find myself tossing and turning, the sheets tangling around my restless limbs, as elusive sleep evades me once again. The Apollo cabin is quiet, the soft hum of night almost suffocating in its stillness. Moonbeams trickle through the window, casting gentle patterns of the wooden floors. 

Grateful for being on the bottom bunk tonight, I slide from under the covers with practiced ease. The gentle thud as my feet meet the floor barely makes a sound, but each step feels amplified in the silence of the sleeping cabin. Slipping on a pair of shoes without lacing them up, I make my way to the door, my heart pounding louder than the muted thuds of my footsteps. The door creaks slightly as I ease it open, wincing at the noise before exhaling a relieved breath as it swings shut behind me. 

Staying close to the comforting cover of shadows, I weave my way through the lingering clusters of campers, their hushed conversations mixing with the rustling of leaves in the night breeze. The children of Nemesis and Nyx, silhouetted against the faint glow of the campfire, seem engrossed in their own whispered discussions, oblivious to my presence as I navigate the edges of their gathering.

I skirt the edges of the Poseidon Cabin, a refuge I’ve often visited, and slip inside, grateful for the cover of darkness. The familiar scent of saltwater and adventure lingers in the air. The cabin is eerily quiet, echoing with the absence of Percy—the solitary presence that usually defines it. 

My steps echo softly against the wooden floor as I venture further in. The moonlight filters through the windows, causing elongated shadows that dance across the cabin’s interior. Percy’s empty bed confirms his absence, leaving the cabin strangely deserted. 

Curiosity propels me deeper into the cabin, my gaze landing on the backdoor open, leading to the pontoons. The moon’s silvery trail illuminates the pathway to the water’s edge, inviting and ethereal. The realisation settles in—Percy, the sole child of Poseidon, often seeks solace by the lake, where the water sings the tales of his father’s realm. 

The sight before me steal a breath I hadn’t realised I was holding. Percy sits there, silhouetted against the shimmering reflection of the moon on the water, a portrait of quiet strength and contemplation. His unruly hair catches glimmers of moonlight, creating an otherworldly halo around him. 

As I draw nearer, the tranquility that envelopes him seems almost tangible. The lake mirrors the night sky, stars dancing on its surface, and Percy, the living embodiment of that serene beauty, captures my attention entirely. 

He turns at the faint rustle of my approach, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his pretty lips. His sea-green eyes, illuminated by the moon’s gentle glow, hold a depth that echoes the mysteries of the ocean. It’s mesmerising, the way he seems both a part of the night and a beacon within it. 

Percy’s messy black hair catches the moonlight in a way that makes it seem like constellations have woven themselves into the strands, each unruly wave a testament to the untamed spirit he embodies. His lightly tanned skin, kissed by the sun’s rays and caressed by the gentle breeze, holds a warmth that feels inviting even in the cool night air. 

As I settle next to him, a comfortable ease settles between us. Percy shifts slightly, adjusting his position, and I follow suit, instinctively resting my head on his shoulder. It feels oddly natural, as if this silent language of unspoken understanding has been written int he stars all along. The coolness of the night dissipates against the warmth of his presence. His shoulder, solid and reassuring beneath my head, carries the weigh of both the wards burdens and its beauty. 

His sea-green eyes, s deep and enigmatic, gaze out into the horizon, the mysteries of the universe reflecting in their depths. The seven expression on his face speaks volumes, as if he’s a silent guardian, watching over the secrets of the night.  The gentle breeze whispers secrets to the night, and I feels Percy’s arm, strong and comforting, wrap around my waist, pulling me a fraction closer to him. It’s a gesture of silent understanding, an unspoken invitation to share the weight of ur silent night-time musings. 

“Why can’t you sleep, Mouse?” Percy’s voice, soft and inquisitive, breaks the tranquil silence with my stupid nickname he made for me. His concern is palpable, yet I hesitate to divulge the true reason behind my sexlessness, my heart pounding against the confession I’m afraid to voice. 

I shift slightly, trying to evade the truth, the words catching in my throat as I struggle to articulate the turmoil within, “Just… thoughts, I guess. You know how it is.” 

But it’s a hollow response, a mere veil covering the truth that simmers beneath the surface. The mere thought of Percy and Annabeth together as a couple, a union so celebrated and cherished among demigods, twists a knot in my stomach, a painful reminder of my unspoken feelings for him. 

The fear of vulnerability and the ache of unrequited affection hold me captive in a silence that feels suffocating. I can’t bring myself to admit the ache his closeness evokes, the ache that surges every time I see them together, facing the world as a pair that everyone wants to see. The perfect couple. 

A grumble of protest escapes my lips, as I know he sees through my lie as he stays silent, a frustrated sound that I can’t seem to contain. I turn my face, burying it in the comforting crook of his neck, hoping to hide the turmoil that threatens to spill over. His chest rumbles with a soft laughter, a sound that’s both comforting and teasing, pulling me out of my momentary retreat. 

Before I realise it, his finger hooks gently under my chin, lifting my face to meet to gaze. The concern etched into his expression melts away any remaining resistance, coaxing me to open up even as my heart clenches with the vulnerability of it all. 

“Hey,” He murmurs softly, his sea-green eyes searching mine, an unspoken invitation tp share whatever weighs on my mind. 

I swallow hard, the lump in my throat refusing to dissipate. The urge to confess tugs at my heartstrings, a silent plea to unburden the ache that gnaws at me. But the words romain elusive, trapped behind a barrier of fear and insecurity. 

My heart hammers against my chest as his thumb traces a gentle path across my cheek, leaving a trail of warmth that seeps into the cracks of my guarded emotions. I meet his gaze, sea-green eyes holding mine in a silent conversation that speaks volumes. 

I feel myself drawn to him, my eyes inadvertently tracing the curve of his lips. The soft moonlight casts an ethereal glow on his features, highlighting the contours of his face in a way that feels almost surreal. 

As my gaze lingers on his lips, a surge of emotions—longing, fear, and a yearning for something more—swirl within me. Self-control wavers as my heart takes over, propelled by an undeniable urge to bridge the gap between us. 

Without warning, without calculation, I lean forward, closing the space between us. My lips meet his in a moment that feels both suspended in time and yet over too soon. It’s a soft, tentative touch, a leap of faith and vulnerability woven into the tender connection.

 For a heartbeat, the world stills around us, the air crackling with the unspoken truth of our shared emotions. The warmth of his lips against mine like a revelation, a stolen moment that lingers as a testament to the unspoken desires I’ve kept hidden. But, just as quickly as it happens, the weight of the moment hits me, the reality crashing down like a tidal wave. I pull away, breathless and wide-eyed, my heart thundering in my chest, uncertainty clouding my thoughts. 

“Perce… Fuck, I’m sorry, I-“ 

Before I can finish my stammered apology, the words tumbling out in a jumble of regret and confusion, Percy’s gentle touch silences my anxious ramblings. He leans in, cutting off my faltering speech with a soft yet determined press of his lips against mine. It’s a kiss that carries a subtle urgency, a reassurance woven into the tender connection that leaves me breathless and wide-eyed. 

His lips, warm and inviting, mould against mine in a way that feels both familiar and utterly new. There’s a tenderness to his touch, a silent promise of understanding and acceptance that sends a shiver down my spine. His kiss tastes like the promise of untold stories, of shared secrets whispered in the stillness of the night. 

My heart leaps in my chest, responding to his gentle yet confident touch. I reciprocate, tentatively at first, before letting myself be swept away by the overwhelming rush of emotions. My hands, initially hovering uncertainly in the space between us, find their place, one resting against his chest and the other timidly finds its way to his cheek, relishing the warmth and softness of his skin. 

His hands, strong yet tender, find their place at the small of my back, pulling me closer in an embrace that feels both reassuring and exhilarating. The closeness of our bodies, the shared warmth between us, creates a cocoon of intimacy that blurs the boundaries of friendship and something more. 

The moment lingers, suspended in a haze of shared emotions, before Percy breaks the kiss, his breath mingling with mine as he gently pulls me onto his lap. My knees rest on either side of his hips, a sudden rush of adrenaline mingling with the warmth of our closeness. Then, he guides me down, our bodies molding together in a dance of longing and unspoken desires. His hands, firm yet gentle, cup my face, his thumbs brushing against my cheeks as he leans in for another kiss.

This time, there's a hunger in his touch, a raw passion that ignites between us. Our lips meet again in a union fuelled by the unspoken confessions of our hearts. It's a kiss that speaks volumes, a dance of lips and tongues that express the emotions we've kept buried for so long. His fervour is matched by mine as I respond eagerly, the longing I've harboured finally finding an outlet in this shared intimacy. The taste of his kiss is electrifying, a rush of emotions that consumes every inch of my being.

My hands find their place on his shoulders, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, drawing him closer in a silent plea for more. Our bodies meld together, the heat of our closeness building an unspoken intensity that blurs the lines between friendship and an uncharted territory of passion.

In the soft moonlight, our embrace becomes a symphony of desire and longing, each movement a testament to the unspoken connection we've discovered. And as we lose ourselves in this intoxicating moment, the boundaries of what we were and what we might become blur in the heat of our shared passion.

“Come on sweetheart,” Percy finally pulls away, “You can sleep here tonight.” 

Riordanverse Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 21st Dec 2023

[worldume]

“wait! didn’t you hear..? ume-chan’s in a really bad mood..!”

“haah..?” sakura’s lip curled in an ugly expression— you know, that one he usually makes when he’s annoyed or not pleased by something? suo told him that if he makes it enough, it’ll get stuck and he won’t have to worry about making such expressions anymore. “why. but what does it even matter?”

“it’s just a bit odd to see, right..?” nirei whispered, leaning over with a look of curiosity on his face as he reaches for the little carton of white milk at the table. “i wonder what’s going on..”

“umemiya is typically so outgoing that it’s almost kind of sickening.” suo’s voice is as soothing as ever, offering a closed eyed smile as if he didn’t say something that could be considered mildly insulting— sugishita was asleep a couple desks behind luckily enough. “i’m sure whatever it is might be pretty serious.”

“oh! ume-chan and (name) are fighting.” kiryu chimes in, his white earbud now in hand. “you didn’t see in the group chat? it’s all the talk this morning~ ♪”

“really? figures we didn’t see! sakura overslept this morning and we had to shake him awake.” nirei said in a matter of fact kind of tone— suo nodded with a smile.

“don’t blame me!” sakura barks, looking away with the nastiest little pout on his face. “i’m here, aren’t i?”

“trouble in paradise, hm? ume seems experienced enough to handle a bump or two.. but maybe he did something to really make (name) mad? i can’t imagine what though, they’re both like rays of sunshine.”

“sakura..? why are you blushing?”

“shut the hell up!”

hiragi knew something was off that morning when umemiya walked onto the rooftop later than he usually does. he’s usually there earlier before anyone else. and today his radiant smile nowhere to be found and instead of his typical exuberant, over-the-top greetings, he offered a half-hearted nod before quickly taking a seat at one of the benches under the awning. weird, hiragi thought. very weird, and even more so that he hadn’t checked on his garden before doing anything else. hiragi notices the little things about his friend like how ume’s eyes seemed dim, as if weighed down by a burden— unusually into his phone. ume looked up and asked him for a favor.

when lunchtime came it was tsubakino who knew something was off when umemiya barely touched his lunch. he was normally the life of the party— ushering others to get their fill all while stuff his own face with mini sausages and spoonfuls of omurice. but umemiya’s silence was deafening at the table and it was painfully obvious that others were trying to overcompensate for the silence that’s usually filled in. umemiya’s absentmindedly pushing food around his plate, he’ll take a bite here and there— but again, he’s oddly engrossed in his phone. the rest of the members exchanged worried glances, this wasn’t like ume-chan at all.

poor sugishita. he’s stressed out— no, on the verge of having a complete meltdown by the time bofurin meets for an afternoon assembly. ume-chan has barely even said a hundred words today and he knows because he’s counted! sugi noticed how reserved ume seemed when he asked sugishita to take care of his gardening that day. he would have done that anyway, but the occasion just seemed.. strange. but ume never liked to assume anyone would anyone favors without being asked. hiragi’s making all the announcements at the assembly today, sugi noticed— and ume stood off to the side, arms crossed over his chest with a hardened but distant look on his face.

that evening sakura really got a taste of it for himself when he went looking for ume and couldn’t find at his usual spots. irritation is what sakura felt. not because he couldn’t find him, but because sakura was actually.. feeling.. some sort of.. interest or excitement about talking with ume! his brow twitched in agitation, fists balled up with a furious blush on his nose bridge and cheeks when he asked around. no one’s seen ume but sakura ends up stumbling upon him when entering a quiet little cafe he likes to go to at the end of town.

“ah. i said today, didn’t i.” ume knows, but it just completely slipped his mind. he told sakura he wantedto speak to him today. “i’m sorry, sakura. i’ve been thinking about a lot.”

“..whatever, don’t apologize..” sakura looked away, brows furrowed into a frown as he tried his best to hide the pink tint on his cheeks— a few seconds go by and he gets a glance in. oh yeah, this guy’s really fucked up about something. come to think out it, he looks like he didn’t sleep last night.

“what would you do if someone you loved didn’t want to speak to you?” the question is so sudden and catches the sweet boy beside him completely off guard.

“haaaaaah?!”

“i forgot you’re shy about these things.” a halfhearted chuckle escaped ume’s lips. “(name) and i.. we had a.. disagreement last night— she’s upset with me to say the least.”

“i don’t know much about.. girls or whatever but i do know when girls say they’re ‘fine’ or they ‘don’t want to talk to you’— means the opposite.” sakura mumbles— he’s talking but he’s busying himself with anything to try to avoid ume’s eyes, so he’s taken a sudden interest in the sugar holder. “she probably just wants to spend more time with you.. someone who cares a lot about someone else wouldn’t just say don’t talk to them unless they’re tryin’ to run ‘nd hide from the issue.”

so, that’s exactly what ume did when he found himself at your door step an hour later with all your favorite things: flowers, sweets, and a some hot takeout. when you opened the door you were greeted with his warm smile— an apologetic expression on his pretty features.

and when he asked to come in, you said yes.

© all content belongs to worldume 2024. do not, translate, modify or repost to any other platforms.

[merbear25]

Hello! Glad to see requests are open! Seeing that may I get a small thing for Zoro, Law and Mihawk. I've been having the idea of a devil fruit user reader falling into the water and needing rescuing (I'm very aware Law is also a devil fruit user but that just gives extra angst does it not). Hurt/comfort of course

Hello! Thanks for sending this in. I decided to change it a little for Law's, but I hope you like it anyway 💜💜

Even with precautions set in place, the sea was where the unexpected could happen. Whether a storm, sea monster, or battle taking place, the threat of the water was something you could never escape. Luckily, those closest to you were always prepared to protect.

CW: SFW, gn!reader, can be read as platonic or romantic, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, headcanons/scenarios, reader is a devil fruit user

If you went overboard… (Zoro, Law, Mihawk)

Zoro: He’d always been protective over those closest to him, so you were no exception. Though never overbearing, he still kept an eye on you. During times of peril, he kept you in arm's length as often as he could. You were capable—strong in your own right. However, there were dangers that automatically made you far more vulnerable. 

That day’s waters were vicious. The waves cascading over the railings gave no sign of the storm letting up. One wrong step was all it took to send you hurtling overboard. A shriek that pierced even during the hurricane-like winds sent the other hearts onboard plummeting.

Their cries for you weren’t accompanied by Zoro’s, but his action traveled faster than their worried calls. Before your limp body had the chance to sink much lower than the surface, he was there, diving in after you.

He was never short of prepared. Even when taking one of many naps, being aware of his surroundings never faltered. 

A watchful eye on everything and everyone, his friends being the ones calling for actions guided by the heart.

He wasn’t one to hound others on things they were already aware of. The unexpected should be expected, and that meant there’d be times when you were made vulnerable and in need of help, just like all the others.

Law: The sea gave no pardons to anyone. Your devil fruit abilities came with a burden that at times felt more like a curse. The calm waters the Polar Tang was cutting through turned dark as the daytime sky transformed into night. With night came more blind spots because of the abyss inevitably closing in.

A sudden wack against the side sent some of the crew members to the floor. Books flew off the shelves and the alarm sounded through the metal rooms. Red lights that blinked in urgency left split seconds of total darkness in your room. Another slam caused you to trip and miss the door handle.

Water started spouting through the cracks, and with each attack against the submarine the cracks grew in size. Your cries for help were quickly silenced by the rising water. The cold ocean held you in a tight embrace against your bedroom floor, yet offering no comfort. An immediate drop outside your room jolted you awake.

It would come as second nature. No thought, just action. You were one of the few who he considered close to him.

Rescuing you, no matter how often, came with some lectures, though. Even if it wasn’t entirely your fault, he mostly did it as a way of expressing his fear of losing someone he cared about again.

Thorough check-ups after such shocks to the system were given, even if you protested saying you were just fine.

Mihawk: Holding the title of the greatest swordsman marked him and anyone close to him as a target. The bullseye seen by the world was drifting casually through the seas, catching the rays of that day’s sun. The rippling water from an approaching ship didn’t even cause him to open his eyes. He was still enjoying the warmth of the sun, but with the supposed enemy drawing nearer, he was left with no choice but to give them even a fraction of his attention.

The captain baited Mihawk, wanting to see the swordsman’s raw power for himself, even if that meant putting his crew’s lives in jeopardy. However, Mihawk wasn’t known for being temperamental, which many of these hecklers seemed to forget. A smooth swing of his sword and their ships sank to pits of the ocean floor.

When a shot was fired at you, the bullet was sliced in mid air. Though you hung around someone whose composure didn’t break, you flinched enough for the both of you. A motion back one step too far was all it took for you to lose your footing and slip into the shackles bound to you by the devil fruit. His challengers were swatted like the pests they were before he dove in after you.

Even his lectures were articulated like advice, which you accepted without protest.

He’d insist on giving you training to help you control these impulses, albeit natural, were life threatening in the wrong situations.

That being said, he obviously knew that once you were overboard, you required his full attention. He simply wanted to offer you assistance to prevent this from happening more frequently.

[navybrat817]

Could use a cuddle with Bucky. 😭

Me, too, nonnie.

Open Your Eyes

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: You aren't ready to face the day.

Word Count: Over 700

Warnings: Slight angst, comfort, insecurities, doubt, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: For @flashfictionfridayofficial 's prompt: Open Your Eyes. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

It was difficult to rise and meet the day. Heavy were the burdens and challenges that awaited you. As much as the rays of sunshine beckoned for you to get up as the warmth touched your face, you refused to budge. Staying in bed was comforting. Easier. 

If sleep gave life to your dreams, why face reality?

Why did you have to get up?

“Open your eyes.”

You wished you could explain why it hurt to do so. Why it felt like you might break if you tried. You wanted some sort of relief. Answers to questions you hadn't begun to ask. You wanted to regain some sense of control and not feel like the build up inside of you would explode. 

Would it be so wrong to let it out?

“Please,” the gentle voice urged, patiently waiting. 

A man who would wait forever for you if you asked.

A pair of blue eyes bore into yours when you finally complied with his command. His loving gaze lifted some of the weight that settled in your chest. His smile alleviated it more, making it easier to take your next breath. He was one of the reasons why facing reality was better than any dream.

“There she is,” he whispered, cupping your cheek as you blinked the remaining sleep away. “Hey.”

“Hey, Bucky,” you whispered back, leaning into his touch before he brought his hand to your waist and pulled you closer. “You’re here.”

You half expected him to be on the floor with a pillow and sheet. Sleep wasn't easy for him to come by, especially on the nights when nightmares plagued him. He tossed and turned and had a hard time getting back to sleep when he abruptly woke up. The last thing he wanted to do was disturb your slumber. 

But you did your best to ease him through by being there. You took care of him. And some days he took care of you. Give and take. That’s what relationships should be. 

“I’ll always be here when you wake up,” he said when your eyes misted over. He pulled you closer, a look of desperation crossing his face when he saw your tears. “Are you okay?”

Words died on your tongue as you opened your mouth. You wanted to tell him you didn't know why today felt so heavy, but his presence made it better. You wished you could explain why you were pulling apart at the seams, but that his touch helped stitch you back together. He helped you without trying. 

When you were wide awake later, you’d remind him of how much you appreciated him. 

“I don't know,” you answered. 

He let out a breath. It was an answer he usually gave you, not the other way around. “Come here.”

He pressed a kiss on the top of your head when you laid it against his chest. You held him like this from time to time. You’d urge him to listen to the beat of your heart as you ran your fingers through his hair. It calmed him. 

Like the steady beat of his heart calmed you. 

But fear crept in like a slow poison when he gave you no reason to feel that way. It infected your confidence and securities with doubt. What if you were too much for him? What if he chose to walk away? Falling in love could feel terrifying when you didn't know where you’d land. 

As if he sensed your insecurity, he placed another kiss to the top of your head and renewed your faith that you’d be there to catch each other. 

“I love you and I’m thankful I have you by my side,” Bucky said, further affirming that he wouldn't give up on you for any reason. 

Just like you’d never give up on him. 

“I love you and I’m thankful for you, too,” you said, a tear sliding down your cheek before you hid your face in his chest. “But can we stay like this a bit longer? I know we need to get up, but I’m not quite ready.”

“We can stay here as long as you’d like,” Bucky promised. 

And when you were ready, you'd face the day together. 

Love and thanks for reading. ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[eudemonia13]

Light in the darkness

Solomon x Reader

Light angst. W.C. 1099 Solomon thinks about his adorable aprentice as they rest beside him.

He saw light in you, passed the glimmer of sunlight on your skin as you bathed in the warm rays of your home world, passed the brilliance of neon signs and late night artificial rainbows that painted your eyes a stunning palette of colour, shades he would chase in his dreams as his subconscious processed yet another memory of you.

An abstract keepsake that he would hold onto as long as he lived. When he had long forgotten the grassy fields, the taste of salt and sugar, when the last drop of his blood had dried. When the death of the world and the collapse of the sun had claimed the last slivers of light, he would remember you.

Tucked away with all the other parts of you he held dear. His thoughts were a kaleidoscope of you. The movements, the laughter, the rhythm of your heart beating. Everything stored away in the most precious archives of his mind.

No, he saw it there in the darkest nights of the Devildom.

Bright and soft as the dawn, light that emanated from you like the warmth from your skin as he rested in your arms. It enveloped him and cast the shadows in his mind into slumber.

He loved you, he loved you in ways that felt like sparks and fire. A firework, piercing the darkness with a violence that could only be human. So fleeting, and yet you burned yourself into the entire realm's consciousness like an afterimage, trails of fading sparks that still glowed as they rained from high. A fraction of time that outshone the dim embers of eternity.

He used to sparkle, he used to glow. And he still did, the hunger in the demon’s eyes told him as much. The subtle glances the angels passed behind his back when he was once allowed entry into the Celestial realm told him as much. There was still enough left in him to want, to covet and bide their time over as turn after turn of the games they played went on.

Solomon smiled, a reflex that had rooted into him and pulled the corners of his lips into an unreadable neutrality, a defence given to him by the slow erosion of millenia uncounted. Hard learned lessons like waves rolling the sharpest rocks into smooth, flawless stones, he had lost that earnest part of him to the oceans long ago.

What he felt, the vulnerability and timid honesty of his feelings even here when he was alone with his thoughts, was too intimidating to show without a mask. So he smiled to himself in the darkness of his room.

He used to sparkle, like you did now.

Still warm, still forgiving even as beings far beyond your reach played over you like a prize, like a bet. Like you weren’t human. Still bright, still shining.

He pulled you closer, tucking his head against your shoulder as you slept, chest falling in gentle crests, like waves rolling over him with every rise and fall. Time had no hold on him, not here. Not with you.

His dearest, his confidant, his…

What was he to you? Surely, he meant at least something to you. But in a room of flushed faces, of hands reaching out to you… How close was he to your light?

A Prince, strong and unmoving to the little problems that once battered him in his youth. He was safe, he was luxury and adventure and lightheartedness, still after everything in his long, long life. Passion and elegance… And knowing you would always come second to the inevitable need of his people.

A Demon, as capable, as beautiful and loyal as he was prideful. Having made his place in the Devildom from what was once scorn and misery, but now stood as one of the most powerful and respected Devildom Elite? Who offered you seduction, and complete ownership over his heart and soul? At least… So long as you could withstand his heart being locked behind the burden of pride, and obligations that could never be put off for more than a night before he would be buried by paperwork yet again.

And his brothers, demons of high regard all their own. But he hardly needed to slander any of them to highlight their glaringly obvious shortfalls.

An Angel, kind and devoted, cunning and artful in everything he does. He was warm, and soft like spring rain, dewy and beautiful and calming to even your soul itself. He would give every part of himself to you and not ask for anything more than your happiness. And yet he was forever shadowed by the choices he had made, and had not made, and the knowledge of what would come from those fateful decisions… But truly, what could he say against Simeon? That he was bad with technology and he was afraid of the terrifying and confusing future ahead of him? Solomon knew that what his friend offered you could hardly be painted as ‘bad’ in even the harshest light.

Was that cruel of him? To weave his words and sharpen his tongue against those he has come to think of as friends? Even in the seclusion of his mind, could he take that from you? Could he appear just a little bit better, here, where none could hear him?

Solomon, the wise. Solomon, the witty sorcerer. Solomon, protector of Humanity. Solomon, who loved you with all his heart. Who had protected you when you were nothing but a defenceless human thrown to the wolves of the Devildom that first year of the exchange program. Solomon, who had risked the fate of the human realm just so that you may not hate him for the awful choice that must be made. Who had put the fate of everything he had devoted his immortal life to protecting, into your hands knowing full well that you might not choose what he would.

Solomon, who looked at you and saw everything he loved, everything he had sworn to protect and cherish deep in his heart where nothing could take it from him again.

Solomon, who loved you knowing he would lose you too.

And Solomon, the manipulative, the wolf in sheep's clothing, the untrustworthy sham of a sorcerer who used and conned anyone he could benefit from. Solomon, the human who had lost his humanity. Solomon, the liar. Solomon, the demon.

He wondered, silently. Wordlessly as his hands shook with the slightest tremble as he pulled you against him even tighter. His Light, his Truth… His Protector.

Who was he to you?

[queenpiranhadon]

Hello! You commented on my post about my dream request so here it goes...

Pro Hero! Dynamite is dating Underground Pro Hero! Y/N. He doesn't know she's a hero, doesn’t even know she has a quirk. She has a "job" where she can travel a lot; a model for Mitsuki & Masura (they know, because parent instincts). Anyway, YN gets sent on a lot of missions with Pro Hero! Deku since he's one of the few who likes working with everybody. Dynamite sees how close they are and is seething, and end ups turning it into a huge fight.

(i woke up at this point but pls make it comfort if you can)

thank you in advance!!🫶🏾🫶🏾

A/N: Idk if this is what you wanted but I loved this prompt so much!! Big thanks to @zanarkandskylines for beta reading and editing this I owe you so much 😭 Here's my masterlist!

Warning(s): f!reader, Katsuki and reader are dating. and they live together, reader is an underground pro hero with a pre-established quirk, mentions of blood, Katsuki thinks reader is cheating on him with Deku, angst to fluff, characters might be a little ooc, mentions of passing out, reader cries a lot, Katsuki does too, Katsuki almost kicks reader out, cursing, Katsuki calls reader princess.

Pairing: Pro Hero! Bakugou Katsuki x Underground Pro Hero! Reader

•─────•°•❀•°•──── ɢᴏᴏᴅɴɪɢʜᴛ ────•°•☁︎•°•────•

Shit. 

Pain flares up in your abdomen as you try not to think about the blood gushing out of your side, as the taste of iron lines your taste buds, making you want to vomit. 

You were on a mission with your close friend and pro hero, Deku, who you consider a friend till the end after endless mission assignments together. Your quirk, Rays, allowed you to control the lighting of any setting you were in- even if it were bright outside, you could plunge anything within a 100-mile radius into complete darkness if you chose to do. Along with that, you could illuminate anything within the same distance in the middle of the night. Your eyes would change colors while your quirk was active, growing lighter and darker with the lighting around you- a feature that allowed you to be hired as a model for Jiyū, a clothing company owned by renowned clothing designers, Mitsuki and Masaru Bakugou. They joked that that lighting always favored you during photoshoots, capturing your eyes in such an alluring way that it was almost like you were the one who made the clothing look exceptional. They’d often drop hints that you would, in fact, be a perfect fit for their hotheaded son. You’d laugh at their insistence, waving off their jokes. They never would guess the reason behind your choice of career path, especially as a secret pro hero. 

You were an underground Pro Hero by the name of Sola – specializing in espionage and stealth, a major asset to Pro Hero Deku as you balanced his brute force with elegance and mobility. You loved your job, not ever having to need to be prominent on the Hero charts and found your reward through the knowledge that you were helping others. It was silly, you thought, to sneak around with a secret identity like all the books you read, unlike the Pro Heroes you knew that basked in attention. And even though you didn’t need people fawning over you 24/7, you still had one issue with all the secrecy. 

That being your boyfriend, Katsuki Bakugou.  

You loved him with your entire heart, and more, as he did you. The both of you got together a few months after the explosive blonde had graduated from UA, your relationship blowing up the tabloids with a bang as he climbed the hero rankings. 

You trusted him with your life, and he trusted you with his heart, and yet you couldn’t tell him about your job as an underground pro hero.  

This was one of the reasons why.  

You hid behind a pillar in the abandoned warehouse you had caught a drug network alongside Pro Hero Deku. The both of you were tracking the pricks for months, coming home late every night with a new excuse to tell Katsuki. You knew it would burden him with worry, choosing to keep your secret hero identity just that - a secret, even from Katsuki. He couldn't worry about you when he had his own job as a Pro Hero to worry about.  

Not to mention he wasn’t exactly on the best terms with the greenette you worked with constantly. 

The fight ensued, you heard Deku’s grunts and the cracks of bones, no doubt his One for All in usage. You manipulated the light around him, effectively blinding your opponents while giving your partner the advantage of sight.  

You were losing blood at a rapid pace, head becoming fuzzy as your body slumps to the floor, giving into the exhaustion from overuse of your quirk. 

The last thing you heard before the world turned black was Deku’s triumphant call for you, reporting that all the villains were restrained.  

When you woke up, you were in Izuku’s apartment, head hazy and your temples throbbed like they were being stabbed repeatedly by blunt needles.  

You got up without a word, thanking Izuku for his hospitality before leaving to go home, brushing off his concerns and walking out his front door.  

Anxiety gnawed at you on the taxi ride home, subconsciously fiddling with your shirt to make sure your bandages weren’t visible, and praying to whatever deity was watching over you that Katsuki wouldn’t notice.  

You reached your apartment complex, taking a deep breath and settling for a somewhat content look, before inserting your keys into the lock and opening the door, basking in the familiar warmth of your shared home. 

Spotting Katsuki at the kitchen stove, you creep up to him and wrap your arms around his waist, to which he stiffens, but you don’t think much of it as you tighten your arms around him.  

“I’m home!” You sing, smushing your cheek against him but he says nothing.  

Worry works its way through your mind, wondering why he wasn’t responding, until his gruff voice snaps you back into focus. 

“Where were you.” he says, phrasing it like a statement, not a question.  

Your heart drops into the pit of your stomach- does he know? Did Izuku tell him?  

Wh-what?” A nervous laugh escapes you. Had you been caught? “I told you, I was in the US -” 

“Cut the bullshit.” he snaps, and you let go of him – you can physically feel your heart snap in two. “Where. were. you."

“I...” you trail off, the words caught in your throat, willing the tears that threatened to spill not to fall.  

You both stand there, wordless, staring at his eyes, full of pain.  

“You never even loved me, did you?” he says, voice cracking full of emotion, your eyes widening.  

“Katsuki no- I" You try to explain, but he cuts you off, the pounding in your head returning with the new rush of emotions.  

“Just stop. Please. Leave and never come back.” He spits out, tears finally dripping down his face. “Go fucking be happy with shitty Deku because obviously he’s a better fucking boyfriend than me.”

He thought you were cheating on him. Those late nights coming home, prolonged trips without explanation- god you were so stupid.  

You rush towards him, mind racing as you try to explain, try to fix things. You couldn’t lose him, you couldn’t- it would destroy you in ways unimaginable.  

And yet, he pushed you away forcefully, making you cry out in pain as he contacts your wound in your side.  

He almost stops breathing when he sees the blood, your blood, on his hands.  

You panic, and he grabs you by the shoulders, lifting your shirt up to reveal the bandage wrapped around your torso that the blood managed to seep through.  

“Kats-” 

“Who fucking hurt you.” he growls, low and feral- all resentment from the previous conversation melting away with the realization that you weren’t with Deku – or at least in the way he thought.  

“I’m an Underground Pro Hero.” You whisper, a desperate attempt to mask your feelings as you curl into yourself. You can’t risk looking up at Katsuki and seeing his reaction. 

“You what- fuck, you have a quirk?!” He looks at you, eyes wide.  

You nod hesitantly, his vermilion stare meeting your own, attempting to assess what else you could be hiding from him. 

“I wasn’t allowed to tell you- the Commision wouldn’t let me, I wanted to tell you so bad Katsuki, but I knew you had so much on your plate, and I didn’t want to bother you, and-” you break down, Katsuki cutting you off as he encircles you in his arms, consoling you silently, letting your distraught form melt into his embrace.  

Heaving sobs turned into choking cries, which dwindled into sniffles that lead to silence. You’d drifted off, cried yourself into a sleepy daze while he carefully cradled you in the kitchen. His own guilt ate away at him- he understood your situation, the Commission was as unsympathetic to a hero’s situation as the League was to anything. But it still hurt, that stupid Deku knew about your status as a Pro Hero before he did. He shook his head, dispersing his feelings. He hated himself for his words, for assuming the worst and thinking you were capable of doing something so low. Running his fingertips over your bandages gingerly, a pang of worry struck through him. He wiped the tears off his face, and then yours, lifting your sleeping form and headed for your bedroom. 

Right now, he needed to take care of you.  

Changing you out of your clothes, he settles you into one of your favorite worn out shirts of his, tucking you into bed before getting ready to sleep himself. 

He joins you in bed, heaving a shaky breath after everything, wrapping his arms around you, one hand placed on the back of your head and the other on the small of your back, holding you against his chest like you were made of porcelain - too scared to let you go, but scared of breaking you, too.  

“Goodnight, princess.”

[yandere-wishes]

A thought for you, Diluc meeting his darling when they were knights together when they were younger but when his dad dies and he leaves but only comes back to see his darling is now a high ranking offical and he panics, what if she gets hurt? She isn’t cut out for this sort of thing. So now he is torn, he can’t let her get hurt but it’s not like he can just pull her out of the knights, can he?

He plays hero in the dark.

Maybe cause the dark obscures beauty and beauty is the last thing he needs right now.

Maybe he's a bit too scared to see too clearly.

Besides everything looks better in the dark.

Diluc doesn't thrive in order, he prefers solitude. The quiet of the estate away from town. The calm of the tavern during closing hours.

The solitude is safe.

Away from fickle lovers and family secrets.

He sees you in the dead of day. Standing outside the tavern with your brigade. Dressed in that loathsome armor with the sun's rays bouncing off the silver metal.

Gleaming.

Bright.

A beacon of hope in every way.

Diluc swallows his anger, his astound. There really shouldn't be room for surprise, it was to be expected. You had trained with him, fought alongside him. Captain is the lowest rank you should have by now

Still, you are not ready for such duty, such burdens.

You must taste experience, bite it, and let the crumbs mar the corners of your lips. You can not simply know by hearing tales of others' endeavors. They are as pointlessly purposeful as the stars. Distant lights you can never understand.

And Diluc refuses to see you as anything more than the little girl who'd drag him to the lake to hunt turtles.

Jejune in every way.

Diluc is not careless, he is not reckless.

The young boy who used to rush headfirst into everything be it battles or turtle hunts, died the same night his father did. The man born of his ashes, is scrupulous, vigilant. He calculates every mistake before attacking.

He lets you see him in the dark. Masked vigilante stalking the streets while you do your patrols. He leads you through the streets, weaving through the nooks and crannies of the cramped port city.

He wonders if this is how the turtles by the lake felt all so many years ago.

"Halt" You're voice holds authority now, no longer airy and melodic. It makes him discomfited.

He leaps past the high walls of the city, disappearing amongst the threes. He sees you cease at the threshold of the bridge. Defeat painted across your tender lips.

The game has ended.

At least for tonight.

He plays hero in the dark.

Dancing as he blocks your attacks.

Metal sings metal as sword and claymore clash.

The nostalgia seeps through no matter how hard he struggles, the familiar hyms of weapons clashing. Your taut frown of concentration. He's drowning in his crush again.

But is such a fickle thing really capable of throttling a man such as he?

Maybe this is truly love?

It's a sparse moment. He's too caught up in you, how tall you've gotten, how astute your stance has become. You've grown. But he still hears your sweet voice ringing across the north winds.

He doesn't notice the hilt of your sword until it's pounded against his skull. Since when have you learned such dirty tricks? His head buzzes on impact, the mask clashing violently on the ground.

The night is still.

But the beating of his heart is far too loud.

"Dily?

You're sword falls, face torn between shock and laughter. "You're the Darknight hero?"

He doesn't answer right away. He lets you laugh and ponder. Lets you come up with your own answers. He's about to interject. Throw some comment about being on opposite sides. But you beat him to the punchline. "Well, I guess I still got to take you in..."

"That's unfortunate, I can't say I'm particularly fond of being arrested by a Favonius knight."

"Captain" You correct and the pride flashing across your face makes him burn in anger. No, no you're not.

You approach him, carless and intrepid. Plucky steps as you reach for the cuffs on your belt. Diluc can't help but roll his eyes. Really? Has being made a captain taught you nothing?

Shouldn't you be more jaded? Wry of any potential threats.

Well, he guesses it must be hard to think of the boy who talks to his pet turtle as a threat.

The blaze from his vision washes over you, painting the night into a faux dawn. The fire melts through your body, peeling the flesh of your arm.

The Darknight hero stands tall amidst the inferno. Eyes aflame with the delicate sight of you.

Diluc licks the embers from his fingers as you cradle your burnt hand.

He didn't mean to do this, but he needs to stun you, he needs you to submit. Gingerly he picks you up, cradling your body close. He can't wait to get you home and burn away that dreaded armor. To dress you in soft silks and precious jewels.

"You're really not cut out for this knight thing. But it's fine I'll keep you safe"

He's only met with soft whimpers as he scales the back walls and dashes towards the winery.

Diluc plays hero in the dark.

And he still believes that.

Even as he opens the door to his mansion.

With you sobbing from pain in his arms.

He is a hero.

And heroes are meant to keep people safe.

Especially helpless little girls who try to play knight.

[nothingbutsweetwords]

ɴᴏʙᴏᴅʏ'ꜱ ꜱᴏɴ, ɴᴏʙᴏᴅʏ'ꜱ ᴅᴀᴜɢʜᴛᴇʀ

ᴀᴇᴍᴏɴᴅ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ!ɴɪᴇᴄᴇ

"…ɪ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ʟᴏᴛ ᴏꜰ ʀᴇɢʀᴇᴛꜱ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ."

Word count: 4,900.

Fandom: House of the Dragon.

Pairing: Aemond x Reader!Velaryon!Niece.

DISTANCE — 10. Him.

When she left King's Landing, it was as if a black shadow had settled over the entire city, a dark suffocating mist smothering any ray of light despite the sun's bright rays. The Red Keep became cold and hollow. It transformed into a labyrinth of echoes from shared memories, now faded in time, like a persistent lament that could be heard in every corner. 

As the days passed, he sought refuge in a rigorous and emotionless routine. Breakfasts became occasions for his mother's presence, and lunches were spent with his sister, though the conversation lacked the vimness it once had. 

It was a comfort, albeit a fragmented one. Alicent was always attentive, quick to notice every visible need. However, her affection manifested in an attempt to keep him safe, shielding him from any perceived dangers, but not from the stormy sea of his own emotions. She was aware of his pain, but they never spoke openly about what truly troubled him, fearing that stirring those deep waters might overflow them. Instead, she offered practical advice and an outward calm that barely touched the surface of his emotional distress. 

Helaena, with her serene and enigmatic nature, was a peculiar source of comfort. Her visions and whispers, often cryptic, seemed to touch the chords of his deepest thoughts, as if she could see beyond the obvious. In her presence, he found fleeting moments of peace.

The loss of her usual brightness after her marriage to Aegon only accentuated the air of affliction in the castle, revealing a wound in her soul that resonated with his own. It was clear that neither of them had wanted that union, but it was she who had suffered a brutal clash between her ideals and a starkly different reality she faced.

Despite this, she often repeated to him that phrase he had heard for the first time so many years ago, accompanied by a small, wistful smile: "Our wait will be rewarded." 

He found it increasingly difficult to hold onto trust in those words. They had become a thin fragile thread, turning his faith into a dull ache and keeping him anchored to a life that felt increasingly distant and unrecognizable.

Her absence left him with an overwhelming void, a sense of loss so profound that it seemed to consume every corner of his being—worse even than the loss of his eye, as if a part of his soul had departed with her, his best friend, his love. 

He wrote to her many times, pouring into the pages a torrent of emotions he couldn't express aloud. Each one contained a silent plea for a response, a sign that she still thought of him. But her replies never came, and with each day of silence, his misery grew like a storm that besieged him without respite.

He immersed himself in a series of mental scenarios, imagining every possible reason for the lack of response. Had she heard about his indiscretions the night before she left? Or was she angry because he hadn't allowed her to visit when she needed him the most? 

He tried to convince himself that she needed space, that time and distance would heal their wounds, but as the weeks turned into moons, the lack of words became an increasingly heavy burden, leading him to question and finally accept that, perhaps, he deserved the silence.

Sometimes, when fate offered a reprieve and luck favored him, he would see her in his dreams, even if they were tumultuous. In them, she would drift away whenever he tried to reach her, her expression distraught at his sullied touch. The pain of her absence mingled with the fleeting joy of seeing her face again, creating a cut that seemed impossible to heal.

There were moments when he nearly mounted Vhagar, to escape the place where his memories kept him imprisoned, and fly to her. But fear and insecurity held him back. His heart, wounded and fragile, couldn't bear the possibility of meeting a version of her who no longer wished to see him. The thought of facing that rejection was too devastating.

His connection with Vhagar was another of the few true comforts he had left. Flying with her offered a breath from his earthly troubles, a sense of freedom and power that he found nowhere else. However, even this source of relief was restricted. His mother feared the dragon, not just for her size and might, but for what she represented: an unbridled power and independence that she could not control. With maternal concern deeply rooted in her, she limited his opportunities to fly, fearing that something might go wrong.

He and his siblings were now only permitted to fly during royal journeys, which had drastically decreased over the years, along with the king's health. 

These limitations felt like heavy chains pressing down on him more and more. His desire to fly, to feel the wind on his face and Vhagar's roar beneath him, was an essential part of his being—a way to feel free and leave his worries behind if only for a brief moment. Every time it was denied to him, the frustration and resentment grew, adding to the tangled web of conflictions that tormented him.

He threw himself into his studies with an almost obsessive intensity, as if each text and lesson could offer a distraction. This rigorous pursuit of knowledge was more than just a means to an end; it was a way to drown out the loneliness that gnawed at his insides.  Instead of confronting his pain, he buried it under a façade of determination, finding in discipline another means of desertion.

Physical training became another outlet. Every sword strike, every grueling exercise, was a cathartic release, a way to channel his frustration and sadness into something tangible. He often pushed beyond the limits of prudence, driving his body to exhaustion. 

The relentless ache became an inescapable companion, following him even in his busiest moments. Despite his efforts to keep his mind focused on other tasks, the image of her smile and the echo of her laughter lingered like ghosts that refused to be exorcized. 

He found himself wondering, with a knot tightening in his chest, if she had forgotten him, if she had found a new life on the island and no longer thought of him. This uncertainty consumed him inside, like a flame that never went out.

The nights were especially cruel, filled with restless tossing and turning as his mind replayed memories and imagined scenarios. The fear of having lost her forever and the guilt for not having done more intertwined, creating an internal struggle that left him exhausted and unable to find sleep. 

As the months stretched into years, he adapted to an existence where her absence was a constant. Yet, he never stopped missing her, nor did he stop yearning for the joy her presence had once brought into his life. It was a quiet, persistent longing that he learned to live with.

His kind sister continued to bring him fresh roses every week, a simple yet constant gesture that tried to fill some of the emptiness. Sometimes, in his frustration and pain, he rejected them, leaving them to wither untouched. Other times, in a fit of desperation, he would throw them away, as if by doing so he could uproot the feelings that consumed him. But there were moments when, with an almost reverent stillness, he would lean over them, breathing in their fragrance and letting the soft petals brush against his skin, searching for a trace of the connection they once shared.

On one particularly lonely night, he dusted off the gift she had given him, a tangible symbol of their bond. He wore it with pride, like a talisman against the encroaching sadness. Next to the cherished case, on his nightstand, he kept a piece of the sapphire. Each time he looked at it, he imagined her, and clinged to the memory of her with all the strength he could muster. It was a small comfort, a glimmer of the love and friendship that had once been his.

He was sitting at the table, engrossed in conversation with his mother. It was a quiet breakfast, one of those rare moments of peace they could enjoy together lately, as she had been increasingly occupied with court matters. 

She was giving him news about Daeron and the impending arrival of some nobles for the festivities in his father's honor. Everything seemed routine, just a simple update on the day's affairs. 

But then, almost as if it were of no consequence, she mentioned: "A raven has arrived from Dragonstone." Her tone was casual, almost offhand, as if she were talking about the weather or some other minor detail. However, the words fell like lead. "Rhaenyra and her family shall be joining us."

For a moment, time seemed to stand still. He stopped eating, his fork halted midway to his mouth, and he sat motionless. His mind went blank, struggling to process what he had just heard. She, the girl who had filled his thoughts and dreams for all those years, would be returning.

Alicent, keenly aware of her son's reaction, watched his face carefully. Despite her attempts to maintain an air of indifference, her eyes showed a flicker of concern. She knew the significance of the announcement for him, and though she tried to downplay it, she couldn't ignore the palpable tension that hung in the air.

He finally set the fork down, his mind swirling. He tried to maintain his composure, but the lump in his throat and the quickening of his beatings were hard to hide. "When, precisely?" he asked, his voice taut with barely suppressed anxiety.

"A few days before it begins, I suppose" she replied, not taking her eyes off him. "Nothing to be concerned about." But they both knew that was far from the truth. The news was anything but trivial. Her arrival was not just another court event; it was an emotional earthquake threatening to shatter the fragile calm he had painstakingly built over the years.

As the days crept closer to the celebrations, the nights grew longer and more sleepless. He found himself going over every possible encounter, every word he wanted to say to her. Anxiety gripped him, a gnawing fear that she had changed, that the woman he had loved and lost might no longer exist in the form he remembered. The thought that perhaps nothing remained of what they once shared was a weight he couldn't bear, leaving him on edge.

The days passed wrapped in a fog of anticipation. The news loomed over him inevitably and followed him wherever he went. The arrival of servants from Dragonstone only intensified this sense of imminence. 

Among these newcomers was Lyra, the lady-in-waiting who, years ago, had wished him a happy birthday with genuine warmth. Now, however, her gaze was tinged with disapproval, her brows furrowed, and her expression hardened. He felt each of these gestures like a small sign of what was to come, amplifying his own discomfort.

He had set aside the books, as they no longer worked; the words blurred in his mind, and he was unable to concentrate. Instead, he spent those hours wielding the sword, until the skin of his palms became rough and calloused. 

One day, waiting for his sister for lunch, he anxiously eyed the usual vase of roses, which already appeared wilted. Helaena arrived with a smile he hadn't seen in a long time, it was bright, contrasting with the gravity of his own thoughts; however, she did not bring new roses as she usually did. 

She noticed his unease and, in a casual tone, remarked, "you shan’t need them for some time, I believe." 

During lunch, she spoke with overflowing energy, filling the silence of the room. He, though less communicative, felt relieved by her presence and liveliness. 

As they finished, he accompanied her to the door. She bid him farewell with contagious cheerfulness and went to her room, leaving him deep in thought. He lingered in the hallway, contemplating the change in her demeanor, wondering what she had meant.

Just then a roar from Vhagar echoed through the air, strong and clear. It was soon followed by another. The sound, different from usual, carried a tone of joy, almost of celebration. It caught his attention, pulling him from his reverie. 

Nervous and conflicted, he closed the door and sank into a chair, burying his face in his hands. He didn't feel ready for what was coming; the feeling of losing control overwhelmed him, it was a sensation he despised more than any other.

After some period of introspection and as the commotion on the floor of the chambers died down, he decided to head to the yard. There, more crowded than usual, he found the usual scene: guards and nobles training fervently. Criston Cole waiting for him, stood ready, morningstar in hand.

"Are you ready, my prince?" Criston asked, his voice laced with challenge and a slight smile playing on his lips.

He nodded, taking a wooden shield and a sword from the armory table. They both faced each other, taking their positions. With every muscle tense and alert, he began to move his body, eager to release the pent-up nerves consuming him.

Criston was the first to attack, his movements swift and precise. He, instead, chose to maintain a defensive stance, blocking and dodging. He heard each clash, the impact of metal against wood and the crunch of the ground beneath their feet. 

As the fight progressed, Cole increased his aggression, launching more powerful attacks. At one point, he managed to hit his shield, splintering and breaking the wood. He threw the remnants aside, adjusting his grip on the sword. Even without a defense, he kept his composure, with more calculated movements. 

They moved in circles, gauging each other's reactions. It was then that he spotted his nephews among the spectators. The sight of him, whom he had not seen since the attack that cost him an eye, ignited a flare of anger within him. He bitterly remembered the injustice of that day, how Lucerys had emerged unscathed while he bore the scar, a permanent reminder.

Criston, sensing the shift in his energy, redoubled his efforts, but he, driven by a surge of emotion, held his ground. With precision, he found an opening in Cole's defense. With a quick and decisive maneuver, he ended the fight with the sword pressed against his opponent’s neck, securing a clear victory. The yard erupted in applause and murmurs.

Criston, breathing heavily, looked at him with a mix of respect and pride. "Well done, my prince. You’ll be winning tourneys in no time" he said, with a playful smile.

He had little interest in such spectacles. He viewed tournaments as mere displays, insufficient to measure a warrior's true worth. 

Aemond, with heavy breathing, replied firmly with an icy tone: "I don’t give a shit about tourneys." Then, with his gaze fixed on his nephews, he addressed them "Nephews, have you come to train?" The question carried a sharp edge, a latent provocation that resonated with the unresolved hostility between them.

The young men remained silent, their expressions serious. Without waiting for a response, he turned back to the armory table and took another shield, determined to continue.

As he walked behind his mother, his gaze was fixed ahead with his siblings flanking him on either side, all heading towards the hall where breakfast would be served. 

The night before, she had been absent from supper, and while he felt a temporary relief that the encounter had been postponed, it was mixed with the sadness of not having seen her.

As he entered the room, his heart skipped a beat. His gaze instinctively sought her among the others, and when he found her, it felt as though time had stopped. He tried to walk with apparent calm, though inside, a battle was raging. 

She was watching him too, and in that brief moment their eyes met, he felt a jolt course through his body. None of the fantasies he had harbored about this moment could have prepared him for the reality. She was completely different, yet unmistakably the same, her essence unchanged. 

She was more radiant than he had ever imagined. There was an air of dignity, confidence and grace in her bearing that left him breathless. There was a dignity in her presence, a poise that was almost otherworldly, captivating him beyond mere words. Her gaze, filled with a subtle strength, seemed to pierce through his defenses, making him feel as though he were standing on the precipice of an emotional abyss. 

He quickly averted his eye, fearing that his emotions might overflow if he maintained contact any longer. He took his seat, and the ensuing silence was almost palpable, heavy with tension and unspoken feelings.

As breakfast progressed, he tried to maintain his composure, but his mind was in turmoil. Every gesture she made, every word she spoke, was a new wave crashing over him. Seeing her after so long was both a blessing and a torment. His hands clenched together on top of the table as he noticed her eyes following him, her gaze inscrutable.

She was even more enchanting than what he thought was possible. The maturity of her features only served to enhance her natural allure, making her beauty more profound. Her face, framed by the dark cascade of her curls, seemed to shine with an inner light. 

Every detail, from the way her eyes sparkled with hidden depths to the delicate curve of her lips, revealed the woman she had become. Her attire, the deep black fabric draping elegantly over her, accentuated her striking features.

Each glance at her was a painful, bittersweet reminder of the time past and lost. 

His mother’s words echoed in his mind: “Nothing to be concerned about.” Everything in him was concerned, everything in him was engaged.

The mere mention of Dragonstone seemed to light up her face; the joy in her expression and the smile he adored were unmistakable. At that moment, he knew her stay would be temporary. She had found a new home, a new life away from him, and the realization was like a dagger.

Upon learning that she had become a dragonrider, he felt a profound joy for her. He recalled the long nights they had spent talking about dragons, imagining what it would be like to fly. He wished he had been there to see her take flight for the first time.

When the king remarked, “The mount of the Good Queen Alysanne. It suits you well” and Helaena, by his side, nodded slightly, a dark fear settled in his chest. It was a gesture laden with foreboding that he was reluctant to explore.

A few hours later, he found himself having lunch with Helaena in her room. The soft afternoon light filtered through the windows, bathing the space in a warm golden glow. Despite the cozy atmosphere, he was lost in thought, his mind still dwelling on the events of that morrow and the memories they had stirred.

Helaena, ever perceptive, noticed his distraction. “Brother” she said softly, her voice filling the room with calmness. When he looked up, she was watching him with a tender expression. “Are you well?”

He hesitated, the words he had kept buried for so long finally emerging. “Will we be together?” he asked quietly, his uncertainty and longing for answers evident. He trusted that fate had its own path, but he needed to know if there was any possibility of a future for them.

She tilted her head slightly, her expression thoughtful as she chose her words carefully. “Some things will depend on you; others are already woven into the fabric of destiny. But I have found that after a long winter, summer is appreciated more” she replied with a wisdom that seemed to come from a deep place. His brows furrowed with a hint of concern. “But you must always keep the door open.”

He nodded, caught between optimism and resignation. He bid farewell to Helaena, each step he took feeling heavier under the weight of her words. As he opened the door, he found himself face to face with the person who had been occupying his thoughts. For a moment, he was caught off guard, stunned by the unexpected encounter.

“Niece” he greeted with a courteous gesture, inclining his head

“Uncle” she replied with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes, a barrier he recognized immediately. “I was looking for Helaena.”

“Of course” he said, stepping aside to let her pass and holding the door open for her. With another polite gesture, she moved past him, her presence filling the space of the room. Helaena gave him a small knowing smile as the princess entered.

He let out a long weary sigh as he closed the door, feeling a growing sense of unease. 

That night, after a long bath, he once again found himself unable to sleep. Sitting at the edge of his window, he gazed out at the clear sky while idly spinning a sapphire between his fingers. The distant roar of Vhagar echoed, and the restless tides mirrored his own agitation.

With a long sigh and a sudden resolve, he adjusted his patch back in place, rose and walked toward the fire crackling in his room. Lighting a candle, he moved quietly towards the back door, leaving the sapphire behind. 

It had been years since he last opened it; since that night, he had avoided the path, as if keeping it shut could keep that memory at bay. Now, driven by an unknown force, he opened it swiftly and stepped into the hallway.

A light from the other end caught his attention. It was her, holding a candle, walking toward him with a serious and determined face. Upon seeing him, her eyebrows rose slightly in surprise. They both stopped in their tracks, staring at each other. Words crowded in his throat, unable to be spoken.

“I wished to speak with you” she said softly, breaking the silence gently. He nodded, still silent, fearful that his voice would betray him. “Shall we go to your chambers?” she suggested, her tone firm but laden with silent expectation.

He nodded again, feeling foolish for having been paralyzed. He gestured towards the way, even though she knew it by memory. Stepping aside to let her pass, his heart pounded with a frantic, uncontrolled rhythm. She pushed open the door that had remained ajar and entered with the same familiarity of years past.

He closed the door behind them and approached cautiously. She moved to the window, where the moonlight bathed her in a silvery glow. He noticed then how she was dressed, wearing a robe over her nightgown and her curls disheveled, contrasting with the elegance of the breakfast, yet to him, she looked utterly divine.

She faced him. A pang of sorrow struck him at her expression. “Why?” she asked, showing a vulnerability that made him feel even more guilty.

“Why what?” he replied, dreading what was to come.

“Why did you never come to see me?” The question felt like a dagger, striking with precision. He looked at her, feeling a knot in his stomach.

He opened his mouth to respond, but the words escaped him. Finally, he found his voice, though weak. “I did not know if you wished for my presence” he murmured, his words sounding hollow even to himself.

She looked at him as if unable to believe what she was hearing. “Is this some jest? I asked you so many times” she said, her tone incredulous. He furrowed his brow. “Did my letters mean so little to you that you did not even take the time to read them?” she added, her bitterness palpable.

He felt as though the world was swaying beneath him. “What letters?” he asked, trying to process everything, his voice softer, trying not to alarm her further.

“The letters!” she said, her words laced with indignation and sadness. “The ones I sent you” she continued. “I thought we had something special. Did I imagine it?” Her tone trembled with emotion. “I waited for so long, I wrote to you so many times, like a fool.” Her voice broke, and she covered her face with her hands. “I hoped… I hoped for a response, a visit, something to let me know you hadn’t forgotten me.”

He took a step forward quickly, his heart pounding against his chest, feeling an urgency he could not ignore. “You wrote me?” he asked, incredulous.

She lowered her hands, her eyes burning with impotent fury. “Do not mock me” she said, turning away, looking out the window again.

He followed her, overwhelmed by a newly discovered helplessness and a fluttering hope of reconciliation. “I wrote to you as well, hundreds of times” he tried to meet her gaze, seeking some glimmer of understanding. “I swear this to you, by all the gods” he pleaded.

“I never received a single letter from you” she replied, finally looking at him with her beautiful eyes shining under the moonlight, her anger softening momentarily with disbelief.

"Nor did I. Not one. Had I received any, I would have come to you at once. You must believe me," he said, “I thought you did not want to hear from me” he whispered desperately, his deepest fears laid bare.

“Why would I not?” she asked, still with a hint of distrust in her eyes from the revelation. Everything seemed so absurd and cruel, yet he felt as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. 

She shook her head, her steps carrying her nervously back and forth in the room, her mind working frantically to understand. “It does not make any sense” her voice was a barely audible murmur, more to herself than to him. “Why?” She continued to mutter, her voice filled with a mixture of frustration and anguish, while he merely watched her.

Suddenly, she turned to face him, her eyes searching for an answer he did not have. “Are you not upset about this?” she asked, her voice rising slightly, annoyed.

He continued to watch her, feeling a strange sense of peace amid the chaos. "I cannot find it within myself to be angry at this moment," he replied, "not when you are here before me once more." His voice was filled with a sincerity that surprised even him.

There were so many emotions at play, so many unresolved things, but at that moment, all that mattered was that they were face to face once more.

“I never stopped thinking about you, wondering why I never heard from you, missing you.” He wanted to reach out, touch her, somehow close the distance that had formed between them, but he couldn’t. “I never wanted to lose you.”

“Is that true?” she asked, almost whispering. “Did you truly never stop thinking about me?” She looked at him, her eyes filled with unshed tears. For a moment, time seemed to stand still, and in that shared silence, he understood the magnitude of what they had lost and what they might still recover.

He took another step towards her, his expression sincere. “Never” he said firmly, hoping she could see the truth in his eyes. “Not for a single second.”

She looked at him, her expression softening, and bit her lip, struggling to hold back the flood of emotions.. But the pain and confusion were still present, like a shadow that refused to dissipate. “This is… too much” she murmured, shaking her head slightly.

He nodded, understanding the enormity of what they had just uncovered. “I understand” he said softly. “Take all the time you need.” 

She turned, intending to leave the room, and he followed, prepared to escort her to her door. But just before they could move too far, she suddenly stopped and turned back to him. In an impulsive move, she threw herself at him with force, wrapping her arms around his waist in a desperate embrace. She pressed her face against his chest, her hands clasped tightly on his back, holding him with an intensity that suggested she feared losing him forever if she let go.

He, taken aback by the gesture and despite feeling he didn’t deserve her pure affection, couldn’t help but reciprocate the embrace. He wrapped his arms around her with a tenderness he rarely showed, letting himself be carried away by the moment. He rested his face on the crown of her head, breathing deeply, the sweetest and freshest scent of roses filling his senses, enveloping him in an intoxicating warmth.

It was a silent comfort. He realized how much he had longed for this contact, this closeness, more than he had even admitted to himself.

"I'm sorry" she murmured against his chest. "I'm sorry for everything." Tears began to fall, dampening his shirt. He could feel the rapid beat of her heart against his body.

She lifted her head, her eyes shimmering with something more. He found himself getting lost in that gaze. “What do we do now?”

With a gentle smile, he caressed her cheek with his thumb, wiping away a tear that had escaped. "I won’t let us be separated again" he promised, his voice firm yet tender. “If you will allow me, I wish to mend what has been broken.”

She nodded, and for a brief moment, the world seemed to shrink to the small space between them, where only the two of them existed.

@helaenaluvr @purplegardenwhispers @callsignwidow @squidscottjeans @scarletbedlam @fics-i-love-and-recommend @oh-you-mean-me @fossface @truly-abysmal

[koenigami]

➵ WRIOTHESLEY

synopsis : when old wounds reopen, he's relieved to have found solace in your presence wc : 1,4k tags : fem!reader, reverse comfort, fluff, little angsty bc of wrio's past

Wriothesley feels it brewing like a storm. It starts in the noon, when a light headache makes his temples throb, when his chest seems to tighten, and his scars ache as if someone is about to rip them open again. 

He knows that sleep tonight won’t come easy. He always does. So instead of tossing and turning beside you, robbing you of your own rest, he prefers to stay the night in his office. 

“Got some paperwork to finish. Will probably stay the night here. Love you.” 

That’s the message he lets deliver to you when the dreadful feelings return like a supposedly defeated enemy. Everything seems fine until it is not. Until his concentration tends to drift off into another dimension overflowing with darkness. His thoughts leave him irritated, and unable to interact with other people without scaring them off. 

At night, Wriothesley eyes the couch in his office. He contemplates whether he should try to at least close his eyes. Maybe this time he’ll fall asleep. 

But he knows that a night without the vivid, gruesome images flashing before his eyes is only wishful thinking.

Instead he plunges himself into the dark space of his past. He watches small patches of blood form along the surface of the punching bag. The pain is almost impalpable, inexistent compared to what’s happening inside him right now. 

His breaths are laboured as he throws jabs into the bag, one after another rubbing off more and more skin from his knuckles. There’s sweat trickling down his face and back after only a few minutes, and he realises that he’s already drained.

His thoughts, his fears, his past. They've all caught up with him in a matter of hours, pulling him left and right, almost tearing him apart.

You have to keep on fighting, Wriothesley. You can’t let them win. 

Clouds obscure his vision until all he can see is red, all he hears are screams, and all he wants is peace. 

But he’s not aware that oftentimes, the one thing that you need the most is already right in front of you. He’s not aware that he could have lessened the pain of his restless nights a long time ago.

The mechanical sounds of sliding metals and working machinery catch his attention, and the doors open. The clouds suddenly disappear, and what remains blinds him.

Like a miner getting out of the deepest parts of a humid cave, he feels the rays of light warm his skin, and he swears it makes him shiver in delight. 

“One of the guards told me I’d find you here.” Your voice bounces off the walls as you approach him slowly. The ring in the middle of the room is empty, though a single glance at Wriothesley is enough to conclude that he comes down here to engage himself in different kinds of fights. 

“Y/n? Love, what are you doing here?” His words sound garbled as he speaks, and he’s reminded to take a few gulps from his water bottle. 

“Could ask you the same.” You eye him carefully while wrapping your jacket tighter around yourself. Just like the sea, the temperature inside the Fortress of Meropide seems to drop drastically at night. “Is this your so-called paperwork? Or have you already grown so tired of me that you prefer your workplace over our shared bed?”

Your words obviously carry no malice as you offer him a lopsided smile. Wriothesley can tell that you’re worried though. And tired. 

“You know that’s not true.” He watches you pluck a handkerchief out of your pocket, and sighs when you use it to wipe away some of the sweat beading his hairline. “It’s late, you should have stayed at home.” 

“You should have come home, Wriothesley.” There’s a change in your tone, and just your entire demeanour, when you spot the raw flesh and bruised skin on the back of his hands. But you swallow the sadness that the sight of him brings you. You push aside the disappointment of him not wanting to share his burden with you.

You suppress the anger and resentment that you hold for all the people that have let down Wriothesley’s younger self. The people who have hurt him, the monsters that still haunt him. Wherever they may be right now, you wish them nothing but utter agonising hell. 

“What am I going to do with you, hm?” Your eyes skim over the damaged knuckles before you pull him to the edge of the ring on which he leans against.

“You should have seen the other guy.” He smirks while his gaze follows your form wandering around the room, looking for some clean bandages and a bowl to pour water in. 

“Sure, his Grace has done quite the number on a sand-filled bag.” You roll your eyes as you find your place back between his legs, wetting and wringing a cloth out. “And on himself.”

Watching you tend to his roughed up skin with utter gentleness, Wriothesley’s again reminded how well his big hand fits into your smaller one. Hands that have destroyed so much, harmed so many, held by hands that look so delicate and which are used for mending and caring. The times that he has felt undeserving of them, of you, have been way too many, though he knows that you’d get upset if he told you so. 

It catches him off guard when the sensation of your soft, pillowy lips spreads along his freshly bandaged hands. Like a light breeze in the morning, you sweep away the remaining clouds from the previous stormy night, leaving the newly risen sun in your wake. The only difference is that the sun does not choose its target. You do, and you chose him.

Something about him makes him worthy of your love, of your time, of your touch. He’s not sure what it is, because to be frank he has never deemed himself as someone with extraordinary qualities and talents. He’s just an ordinary man with a less ordinary past. But maybe it’s exactly the former one that has made you choose him. You chose Wriothesley. Not the Duke. Not his Grace. Not a former criminal. Just him and all of his rough edges.

“Let’s go up and sleep, hm?” His hand cups the side of your face, the other settles on your waist as he pulls you in closer until your chest is flush against his. Wriothesley’s cheek nestles over your collarbone, and you feel his warm breath fan over your skin when he heaves a deep sigh. 

“I want to stay like this for a while. Is that okay?” You hum approvingly and watch his body relax against yours as the tension slowly but surely leaves his shoulders. A small groan slips past his lips when your fingers start tracing the muscles along his back. Like a map, you have memorised all his sore spots, all his ticklish spots, and the ones that are the most sensitive.

Wriothesley feels one of your hands slide further up to the nape of his neck. You start twirling his hair around your fingers, combing through the messy and sweaty strands, and lightly scratching his scalp in a way that makes his eyes droop, and body feel heavy.

You hear him mumble incoherently something beneath his breath and you laugh softly.

“What was that?”

“You’re amazing, you know that?” He says it so effortlessly as he gazes up at you with hooded eyes that seem to hold the entire world inside them. The corner of his lip twitches and you wonder if it is because he can feel your accelerated heartbeat.

“Well, you aren’t bad yourself either.” It’s when your chest quakes the slightest bit beneath his head, and when your sweet laugh reaches his ears-

It’s right then that he knows that he’s fine. For now, he’s fine.

And when you’re later on lying on the too short and too uncomfortable leather couch in his office with your body draped over his. When his past flashes in front of his eyes in form of nightmares. And when you hold him through every single one of them, caress his arms and chest in hopes that it will calm him down and ground him.

It’s right then that he realises that he’ll be fine as long as he has you by his side.

[sanjiafterhours]

Why I think Luffy saved sanji in whole cake, not just physically but in every sense of the word :

Firstly, this parallel between Luffy and Sora was extremely significant for sanji

sanji knew that food is one of the most important thing in the captain's life but Luffy was willing to forego that, jeopardize his own life and eat spoiled food for him, even when sanji was at his worst during this period. Luffy gave him the grace and consideration that sanji always gave to others but rarely got it reciprocated throughout his life. Sanji who always thought he was undeserving of love, was showed that he deserved it even when he was being difficult, and even when he wasn't seeing eye to eye with his friend. Luffy is generally not a perceptive person but he understood sanji in a time when he was at the rock bottom and everything in the world was going against him.

Again, this difference between how Luffy and Judge sees sanji : where in Judge's eyes, sanji was worthless because of his soft heart, Luffy accepted and valued him for everything he was : kindhearted and easily moved by people's pain.

Luffy loves and accepts sanji on such a genuine level that when judge was pointing out the reasons of sanji being weak, Luffy couldn't even grasp it. To Luffy, sanji being weak/a burden is so beyond comprehension that he simply didnt get it. And it's so funny to see the startle in sanji's face when Luffy verbalizes his stance on sanji's supposed weakness.

reiju helped him escape the prison but Luffy is the one who broke down the iron bars of the mind-prison sanji was in and mended his wounds left by the vinsmokes and the absence of sora. Maybe that's why when they make up and the first rays of the sun shines upon Lusan, it felt like a metaphor that the stormy days were finally over for sanji