#(i love my lines. ignore me whenever i say lining is a pain)

[humanmorph]

15 Days of FatT - BRANCH

KEITH: Phrygian tells [Saffron] that when people are war-weary, they go home.

when "Once the War’s Over" got introduced I got really excited about the possibility of hearing about Phrygian's home - the Golden Branch, the places and people they cared about... I really love what we got instead, but I do still think about it sometimes.

(Branched ideas crowdsourced from @podcastingpineapple, @violentandmagnificent and @banneduser-on-cohost)

(+ just the lines)

[totalswag]

worthy of love — RAFE CAMERON

authors note something short and cute for you guys. also, rafe deserves to be treated with the love that he desires. he just wants to be understood yall.

paring mean!rafe x soft!reader

summary soft!reader wants to show mean!rafe that he's worthy of love but he pushes reader away until one day he finally knows what love truly feel like.

warnings neglect, feeling unworthy of love, ward being a shitty father, and a lovely happy ending.

Rafe Cameron believed he would never be capable of love in his life.

Raised in a family where love was a rare commodity, Rafe grew up believing that affection, vulnerability was a weakness that should be avoided at all costs. But little did he know that someone was about to turn his life upside down and teach him the true meaning of love.

You.

His father, Ward Cameron, is part of the reason Rafe is the way he is. Ward tells him to man up rather than express his feelings and be vulnerable. Overall, his father has never treated him with the proper care compared to his two younger sisters. This sent Rafe into a downward spiral, leading to a darker path in his life. Rafe held his guard up.

You entered his world like a breath of fresh air, bringing with you a warmth and tenderness he had never felt before. Rafe first rejected your presence, pushing you away with his harsh remarks and cold demeanor. But you saw through his strong facade, understanding the agony and vulnerability that lay underneath the surface.

"Why do you treat me like this? I’m not someone that deserves to be loved." 

Rafe was initially perplexed as to why, of all the people on the island, someone as kind and gentle as you would want to be with him. 

One of the many things Rafe would tell you when you tried to show him that he’s capable of being loved by someone, he would shut you out immediately when you tried showing him.

People said you were crazy for pursuing Rafe Cameron. His reputation in Kildare is immense. You just chose to ignore what other people had to say because you felt Rafe deserved love.

The first time you heard those words come out of his mouth, your heart broke into a million pieces. Behind all of the roughness, coldness, and unpredictable behavior, he is someone who wants to be loved.

Rafe continued to push you away for the longest time, hoping you would get the hint. Finally, giving in after protracted arguments. For far too long, he had kept his guard up to protect himself. He did not want to feel weak for expressing himself. Rafe noticed how long you stayed by his side.

You gradually began to break down the walls Rafe had placed around his heart. You showed patience and understanding by refusing to give up on him, even when he tried to push you away. Rafe became increasingly drawn to you as time passed, yearning for the love and acceptance that had always escaped him.

Rafe started to trust again as your relationship deepened. He progressively exposed a gentler, softer side of himself, something he had never seen before. He realized there are individuals out there, like you, who care passionately and will be by his side through thick and thin.

All he ever wanted was to feel fully understood and seen. You came into his life when he was in the deepest pain and saved him. You showed he’s worthy of love, compassion, gratitude, and vulnerability are truly like, and there is nothing wrong with it. He transformed into a very different person than anyone could have predicted.

"You're the most amazing person I've ever laid eyes on, baby," Rafe said with a lovely smile on his lips, sliding the front strand of your hair behind your ear as you moved your body closer to his and closed your eyes.

“I love you so much rafey” kissing his bare shoulder a few times.

“And I love you more,”

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[jinkicake]

Gentle Love

Tending to him while he is injured.

Diluc, Kaeya, Scaramouche, Xiao x Reader

A/N: My sweet diluc came home (again) within 20 pulls and then scara showed up another 30 pulls later… I call that a win, this is for them! my babygirls! Also, i may be falling for soft!scaramouche oh no!

WC - 2.0K 

~~~

Diluc R.

“Oh, Diluc, what happened?”

The young winery owner wanted to avoid waking you. He did everything in his power to avoid it, he entered the house quietly and was nearly silent coming into your shared bedroom. It seems that there is nothing he can do to avoid your sixth sense, the one that is activated whenever he returns to you. 

Diluc really didn’t want to worry you, he hates seeing the fear in your eyes and installing anxiety in your heart. He wishes it didn’t have to be this way. 

“Go back to sleep,” He’s not even sure why he tried to command this of you, you’d never listen. You’re already in front of him before he can blink, your hands are hovering all over his body as your eyes widen in shock. It’s almost as if you’re afraid to touch him and harm him even further. 

Diluc never comes back this injured. 

“Please, Diluc, let me help you.” When you tug gently on his fingers, Diluc follows you without a second thought. There has never been a time where he’s been able to say ‘no’ to you. You pull him to the cushioned seats situated under one of the large bay windows and softly push his shoulders to get him to sit down. Diluc does so with no hesitation, he thumps against the material while trying to get his jacket off. His stiff muscles make this task nearly impossible to do and it’s only by your delicate fingers that he is able to drop the material down to the floor. 

“Are you alright, my love?” You ask while working the buttons of his shirt and pushing the material to the side. The frown on your face only grows at the sight of the bruises starting to form on his skin. Diluc sucks in a deep breath. 

“I’m fine, please do not worry so much-”

“How can’t I?” By the fiery look in your eyes, Diluc knows this was the wrong thing to say. He subtly drops his head, chin to his chest as he tries to hide from your disapproving gaze. You quietly sigh and reach again for his hands. The red tinting his knuckles makes your heart hurt. “I just want you to be safe.” You hold his hands to your chest, gently squeezing them in your hold before placing a kiss against his wrists. 

“I know,” He hates to disappoint you, it pains Diluc more than his current injuries to let you down. 

“But you can’t stop, huh?” His silence answers your question and you want to scoff. You want to let out all of your anger but, you know Diluc. Despite everything, you love and accept him for who he is. “Please just return to me safely each night, that is all I ask of you.”

Diluc gives you a soft smile, one reserved especially for you that never sees the light of day toward another. 

“I promise, my love, for as long as I live.”

Kaeya A.

“Easy there, sweets,” Kaeya gently pushes your wrist away, wincing under the touch of your alcohol-infused cotton ball. You can’t help but scowl at him, he deserves every ounce of pain that this brings. “you know that you only need water to clean wounds, right?”

Not even his charming smile will work on you tonight, you’re far too upset to acknowledge it or him. 

You continue to ignore Kaeya as you softly dab the cotton against his jaw and then against his throat. The scratches there make your heart ache and you try not to think about his bruised fingers and scratched-up forearms. You told him not to take the commission alone, the one that required his assistance from early morning to late in the evening. Hilichurl after hilichurl and abyss mage after abyss mage, Kaeya fought and took each one down that surrounded the walls and gates of Mondstadt. 

You know it’s his job, you know you’re not supposed to get mad at him but, you hate to see him put himself on the line like that. 

“Ignoring me, hm?” Kaeya peeks at you from under his lashes, lips slightly curling up at the heavy frown resting on your face. The pout of your lips is too cute, too much for the captain to handle. He wants to kiss you so badly, to feel the soft touch of your lips against his own-

“Ouch. My little busy bee, you need to be more gentle with that.” He grimaces as you dot at the large gash against his cheek even harder than before. Kaeya knows that you’re angry with him and that he deserves every ounce of the pain you inflict upon him but, must you be so harsh? “Shouldn’t you treat an injured man more delicately?”

That finally pisses you off and you throw down the cotton ball and towel onto the table before pushing yourself away. You had planned to leave and head straight for the door, leaving Kaeya to lick his own wounds by himself but, your boyfriend grabs you before you could even put the plan into motion. His large hand tightly grips your wrist and tugs you back into his lap. Try as you might, your strength is no match for him and you find yourself on the tops of his thighs before you even realize it. 

“Forgive me,” Kaeya murmurs against your jaw before gently placing peck after peck against your throat. “I hate it when you’re upset with me.”

His touch melts your anger far faster than you care to admit. In fact, you’re mere putty in his hands as he squeezes your hips with his palms. 

“I hate it when you act recklessly,” For the first time all night, you speak and Kaeya carefully looks at you. Your eyes are hard, resolve still intact as you glare down at him. 

The captain will have to work for your forgiveness, that much is clear. 

He laces his fingers with your own, bringing your hand up to his lips before kissing your knuckles. The entire act of affection is done with his eyes locked with your own. 

“I know,”

Scaramouche

“Don’t touch me,” Scaramouche’s warning goes in one ear and out the other. Despite his cold tone and fighting spirit, you ignore him and focus on organizing the work in front of you. 

The harbinger watches as you separate all the cotton balls and cotton swabs from one another before reaching for the bowl of water. “listen to me, wretched vermin.”

His half-assed threats make you roll your eyes. No matter how much he tries to verbally push you away, Scaramouche willingly lets you grab his hand. He allows you to look at the fresh cuts on his arm, no doubt from some mission that you won’t ever know the details about. 

“You’re not bleeding,” You murmur and lean forward to look closer at his near-porcelain skin. 

“Because I’m not hurt.” Scaramouche rips his arm away from your touch, almost holding the limb to his chest to expand the distance between the two of you. 

“You aren’t?” At the touch of your hand against his cheek, Scaramouche flinches. His entire body stiffens and doesn’t relax even as you scoot closer to him. The bench inside his office now seems shorter than normal. “Look at me,” Your calm voice makes him wince and the look of terror and irritation refuses to leave his face. “look.” Much to his dismay, your fingers travel down to capture his jaw and force him to look down at you. 

Scaramouche feels too vulnerable under your touch, under your gaze, and he nearly starts to shake. You seem to be looking right through him, directly to his core and to where his heart should be. 

“What do you want from me?” He hisses and the sound does little to intimate you as you push his cheeks together, causing his lips to slightly pucker. Your soft smile, followed by a quiet chuckle, makes Scaramouche feel a little at ease. 

“I want to make sure that you’re okay.” You continue to hold him still as you run your eyes over either side of his face then his throat and behind his neck. The light touch of your fingers makes his skin feel as if it is on fire, everything is burning hot the more that you linger near him. 

“Because you’re the nurse?” He spits the word as if it offends him, as if you disgust him but, you pay no mind to that. Instead, you sigh and bring your hand back to your lap. 

“Would it kill you to think of me as a friend?” Your dejection doesn’t make the harbinger feel strong as he had hoped, no, it makes him feel small. He watches as you put away your things into your medical bag and clasp it closed. 

“Yes,” He whispers.

“Hmm, shame,” You shrug and stand up from his bench before making your way to his door. Right as you’re about to leave and finish stepping all over his emotional control, you look over your shoulder back at him. “I happen to quite like you, Scaramouche.”

Xiao 

Xiao isn’t sure what compelled him to seek you out so late into the night. All he knows is that he is hurt and needs to be near you. 

As much as it irritated him to bother you, to pull you from the book you were so eagerly invested in, he did so with slight hesitation. 

“Why are you still awake?” His voice is quiet in the comfortable atmosphere of your room, outside he can hear the nature of Liyue through your open window and the peace that night has to offer. 

Maybe that is what makes him feel more at ease.

“I got caught up in a light novel, it’s one that is very popular in Inazuma.” You seem happy to be helping him and Xiao doesn’t understand it. He expected more of a reaction from you but, you were entirely too calm in grabbing some cloth and pulling him to the empty chair at your desk. “What were you doing?” 

Xiao silently mulls over his words as you lightly dab at an open wound on his shoulder. Some pathetic Fatui scum, no longer in this world, had gotten him when he wasn’t looking. He rarely gets injured like this but, then again, he rarely has to deal with an entire Fatui army. 

In the morning, he will have to deliver this delicate information to someone else. 

“Watching over Liyue,” He isn’t confident in these words and isn’t sure that they are going to satisfy you but, to his surprise, you simply hum in acknowledgment. You carefully lift his arm before wrapping up his shoulder with some gauze, making sure to secure some pads against his wound underneath the medical material. 

“As long as you’re happy,” You gently press a kiss to his cheek before heading back to your bed. The entire interaction makes Xiao extremely confused. He sits still for a few moments, blinking slowly before turning to face you. You’re now laid comfortable with the book in your hands and your eyes running across the words on each page. 

Xiao pushes himself out of the chair and walks towards you, he stands at the side of your mattress and continues to just watch you. At your limited reaction, that of which being nothing, Xiao settles down beside you. 

“Don’t lay on that side, Xiao!” You scold him and quickly get up to switch sides with him. “Lay on your back!” Your outburst fills him with warmth and provides the Adepti with a sense of comfort. The touch of your fingers against his arm helps Xiao relax into the sheet. You then scoot closer to him before wrapping your arm around his waist. 

“Will you sleep with me tonight?” It’s all you ever ask of him. 

“Yes.” 

“Good, then we can eat breakfast in the morning and I can convince you to stop doing work at night.” You press your cheek into his chest and gently squeeze your arms around his waist. “Right?”

Xiao can’t think of any reason to say no. His lips find the top of your head and he rests his body against your own. 

“Right.”

[matan4il]

Ahead of Eurovision 2024

I was listening to Eden Golan's song, Hurricane.

At first, it didn't seem to me like it stands out. I'm one of the people who prefers my Eurovision song less on the power ballad side of things, so this being in that genre...

But then I found myself haunted by the lyrics. By specific lines. Singing them to myself quietly, over and over again. I had to listen to the song again.

And it got to me, it really did, I haven't stopped listening to or singing it since, so I guess I needed to share a bit.

There's more than one hint that this is a song about mourning and survival. Lines like, "someone stole the moon tonight, took my light" can be interpreted in more than one way. But they become less ambiguous when combined with ones like, "holding on in this mysterious ride," when the mysterious ride we're all on is life itself. It makes it clearer that this isn't just a break up song. Then it becomes even more explicit with, "we shall pass, but love will never die."

The imagery in the videoclip is also telling, that ending when Eden is looking up, much like many do when talking to or thinking about a loved one that we have lost.

But the line that gets to me the most, the first one that took over my brain? "I'm still broken from this hurricane."

We all get what this song is about, in the wake of what happened here in October 2023, and since. And I am broken. So many Jews and Israelis are. As one survivor said (his words have haunted me first, then I heard them echoed in this song): "We are broken, but strong." That's exactly what the song is about, deeply feeling the pain and the tragedy, the loss, this impossible to accept grief, and still trying to find a way to live with it, to survive not just the horrors of a massacre, but the trauma that follows it as well.

The other line that affects me the most is directly related to this, "baby, promise me you'll hold me again." Because I have spent the last 5 months watching the news, seeing the funerals, and hearing people breaking down, as they say a variation of this to their loved ones, who are gone. Asking for a promise that can't be made, or fulfilled, and knowing that it can't, even as the request is being uttered. I hear their voices breaking around their words, whenever I listen to or sing this line.

The videoclip is also infused with imagery that's related to the massacre of over 360 people at the Nova music festival (and the kidnapping of 40 more from that scene), which is in a way very apt for music lovers. The images show dancers in what looks a lot like a nature party, just like Nova, and since the massacre happened when the music festival was meant to reach its peak, a long night of music and dancing climaxing around sunrise, that's exactly what we see, a move from the "moon light" throughout most of the videoclip, to the "sunrise" at the end.

But in the case of this "sunrise," Eden can smile, she can find comfort, she can sing a few words in Hebrew that reflect hope, about that little light that's left even when the moon's been stolen.

She's bringing the song to a beautiful, emotional closure.

Obviously, it can't be ignored that this is a re-write. The original song (which was called October Rain) was disqualified as "political."

You can read the original lyrics here. They're almost identical. I heard an interview with the song writers, who said they weren't even told what got their song disqualified, so they had to guess what the Eurovision Broadcasting Union had in mind, when they called an expression of our pain, and our strength at the face of that, "political."

I admit, I find it very hard to accept this disqualification. It's not like there isn't precendent for countries at the Eurovision expressing pain (including the kind originating from political circumstances) through their songs.

If you take the wildly popular Ukraine 2007 entry, the singer was quite obviously singing "Russia goodbye," with allusions to Russian interference in Ukrainian elections while wearing outfits reminiscent of Soviet uniforms. And that wasn't called political, because "Russia goodbye" was changed into gibberish that still sounds like it (and in recent performances, it was blatantly sang like that).

If you take the much talked about Croatia 2023 entry, it was about the Russian invasion of Ukraine in 2022, and also criticized Belarus' tyrant kissing Russia's tyrant's ass, by referencing the tractor that Lukashenko bought for Putin, while the band members played with military weapons and uniforms on stage. And that wasn't disqualified for being political.

If you take the Ukraine 2016 entry, that was explicitly singing about their pain over what the Russians did to the Tatar population in Crimea in 1944, with clear allusions to what Russians did when they invaded Ukraine's Crimean peninsula in 2014. And that wasn't called "political" either.

Even this year, we have the entry from The Netherlands being political, with both the lyrics and videoclip referencing the borderless Europe (which IS a political issue, as Brexit, if nothing else, had made clear). I've seen people pointing out online that the song isn't political, because the whole borderless Europe thing is a metaphor for the singer's grief for his father/parents. I have no problem with that reading, but let's acknowledge that there could have been many metaphors for that, and he chose a political one.

So why is Jewish pain treated differently? Why is our pain labeled "political," when the metaphors for it in the songs aren't that, there are no specific political mentions of people or organizations in the song (unlike the Georgia 2009 entry, which slipped Putin's name into the song's title) in either version, when there are no political statements being made in the song, there's just expressing our pain, and trying to find a way to cope with it?

This WAS the biggest massacre of Jews since the Holocaust, and expecting Jews not to write about it, not to sing about it, not to try to process it through art... Our pain is not political. It's human. When Ukraine won in 2022 with a song that wasn't originally political, but became one, as it was adopted by Ukrainians suffering from a war that they did not choose, but had to fight, singing it wherever they were displaced (I remember the winners, Kalush Orchestra, coming to Israel to sing it for and with Ukrainian refugees who found shelter here), I thought it was quite obvious, even for people who don't like politics at Eurovision, why the song won, and why everyone overlooked the fact that it was only partly based on its qualities as a Eurovision song. I don't expect Israel to win, I very much expect that, even as Israelis embrace this song about our pain during a war, that we didn't choose, but have to fight, and while hundreds of thousands of us are still displaced, we will get a lot of hatred, instead of understanding and sympathy. But I still have to speak up. I still have to point out that treating Israeli or Jewish pain differently is wrong.

(as a footnote, I wanna get ahead of the usual, "Why is Israel allowed to participate in Eurovision to begin with? It's not in Europe!" comments, while I haven't come across the same ritual for certain other Eurovision participants, like North African Morocco, just-as-Asian-as-Israel Lebanon, transcontinental {despite some of these countries only being considered European culturally, while geographically speaking, they're fully Asian} Georgia, Russia, Cyprus, Turkey, Azerbaijan and Armenia, and the one that's a continent all on its own, Australia. They all have the right to participate, because they all belong to the European Broadcasting Union. Just like Israel)

[ki-yomii]

careful | jjk

➥ pairing | jeon jungkook x f!reader ➥ word count | 2.2k ➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; dom!jk, sub!reader, dirty talk, mild dom/sub dynamics, orgasm control/edging, slight brat kink, slight brat tamer!jk, pet names, degradation kink, praise kink, mild dacryphilia, finger fucking, sub drop, pussy smacking, wet & messy ➥ summary | you should always be careful what you ask for ➥ notes | what's that - posting a fic that isn't any of my wips/requests? more likely than you think 🥲

i started writing today with the intent to work on my vampire jk fic cuz spooky season. instead, i found myself here... i'm sorry 💀

also i’ve seen enough run episodes to know you don’t want jk’s hands smacking you anywhere 😬

🩷 masterlist | inbox | AO3 🩷

“Look at me, baby.”

The low warning cuts through your muffled whines, Jungkook’s weight pinning you to the wall. Thick fingers grind deep inside your cunt, digging into your g-spot mercilessly.

Pressure builds behind your hips, borderline painful as you shift around in a vain attempt to dislodge him.

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” he says, “You know better.”

Whenever Jungkook speaks, his voice scrapes down your spine, low and whiskey rough. His chest is a long line of heat, plastered to your front from stem to stern.

The rapid gallop of his heartbeat echoes your own rabbit-fast rhythm, the scent of his cologne clogging your nose and clouding your thoughts.

He bites out your name, the palm shackling your hands above your head squeezing your wrist. Blunt nails dig into the delicate skin of your pulse point.

A silent prompt you know better than to ignore. And yet, the temptation to do so is almost too much.

Keen awareness roots low in your belly, dripping down between your thighs like candle wax. Your thighs tense with the strain of controlling the involuntary drop of your hips; the urge to rock down into his touch choking the breath from your lungs.

“I…”

The instinct to comply is almost Pavlovian. After all, you’re Jungkook’s good girl, aren’t you? Loved and fucked and trained to his liking.

(But how can you be good when he looks at you like that? It’s just not fair.)

Being good all the time is boring.

No. Your mouth snaps shut, and any response you have turns to ash on your tongue. The words catch on the backs of your teeth like candy. Not this time.

“Why are you being like this, huh?” Jungkook’s brows shoot towards his hairline, his dark head ducking to try and catch your eye. “I know I taught you better.”

How could you ever forget the rules when he’s fucked them into you so thoroughly? Took you apart piece by piece only to stitch you back together in his image - his precious little darling made to take his cock and swallow his cum.

“You really don’t wanna play this game with me right now. Trust me.”

Breath lodging somewhere in the middle of your throat, and tasting suspiciously of regret, you shake your head and dig your heels in. Resist the urge to crumble at his feet, beg for forgiveness with your mouth, your hands.

It’s already too late to back out - it’ll just be worse for you if you do.

Jungkook might hide his less… savory traits better than most, but you’ve experienced his greedy kisses firsthand, felt the tug of his teeth and tasted the salt of his skin. Heard his ragged moans honey sweet in your ear, felt the harsh grind of his body along yours.

When he smiles, it’s wicked, "Last chance. Show me those pretty eyes of yours, baby.”

Anticipation hooks behind your navel, stomach swooping as heat curls up in the valley of your hips. Blood rushes in your ears, starting as a slow thrum that crescendos into a rapid drum. Your heart tattoos itself into your ribs.

Licking your lips, your refusal shudders from you in a throaty rush, “No.”

A low hum fills the following silence, noncommittal. The mounting tension threatens to strangle you, sets your teeth on edge. Sparse hairs at the nape of your neck prickle.

And then, before you have time to consider taking it all back, plush lips ghost over the hollow below your ear. Whisps of dark hair whisper over your skin, soft and ticklish. Shivers race down your spine, spread through your fingers and toes.

“Alright, have it your way,” Jungkook smothers his words in the tender slope of your neck, “but remember: you asked for it. Don’t come crying to me afterward.”

Readjusting, Jungkook’s broad shoulders curve forward and the slackened hand on your wrists renews its grip. The cold tip of his nose traces along your jaw, inhaling the perfume of your silken skin.

An exhale shudders from him in a vulgar husk of breath. When you clench around his fingers still buried inside you, he laughs low and mocking.

“Damn, baby, your pussy’s just sucking me in. You really wanna cum that bad?” Kisses pepper up the side of your face, skirting the side of your mouth. “Heh, yeah, I know you do - such a dirty little slut.”

“Oh!” You sigh, sparks sizzling through your limbs, as Jungkook flexes his fingertips playfully against your swollen g-spot. Your hips tilt into the touch. “Hah…”

“That feel good, huh?”

A low keen escapes when he draws your earlobe into the moist heat of his mouth, his lips clamping down while the sharp points of his canines roll the tender fat. Little kisses of pain burn, brighten the arousal blooming deep within you.

“Yeah, of course it does,” Jungkook breathes, his voice low and husky in your ear as he strokes at your fluttering walls. “Just look at you.”

Unable to swallow the broken gasp of his name when he hits your favourite spot at the right angle, you tremble against his chest from where you’re pinned and squeeze your eyes shut, “J-Jung--!”

Holding up your own weight on weak knees is an endurance sport - one you’re losing as they bow and shake, threaten to give out. At the same time, your arms feel like lead, going numb from having them suspended over your head for so long.

Head light and floaty, your nails bite into the backs of his hands as a sharp spike of pleasure slices through you. “I’m--”

“Gonna cum soon?” Jungkook asks, the devilish grin tugging at the corners of his sculpted mouth more a baring of teeth. “Don’t lie to me.”

At your frantic nod, he tugs his fingers free from the tight clutch of your body with a sloppy squelch. Slick oozes from your cunt in a sticky rush that wets your inner thighs, your gut clenching hard with hollow satisfaction as he rips the ebbing flow of your orgasm away without warning.

“Shit!” 

The noise you make at their loss is low and wounded, tears brimming in the corners of your eyes. Your body locks up so hard your stomach aches, walls fluttering as a cramp knots up behind your hips.

Your swollen clit throbs with angry sparks of pain that make you whine and wince, orgasm thoroughly ruined.

“W-Why did you…” Voice cracking around a hiccupping sob, you pitch forward into his powerful chest. “Jungkook--”

“You know why.” His reply cuts you off, chilly and brusque, while he stares at you without remorse, “I gave you a chance to change your mind.”

“But I -”

“Stop.”

Sniffling, you peer at him from beneath damp lashes.

Breathless and feral, Jungkook stands before you a vengeful god, robed in shade and shadow. It’s criminally unfair how good he looks; jaw clenched, eyes twin black holes that threaten to pull you in.

Harsh, hooded, hungry as they trace over the tear tracks cutting lines down your cheeks, the quiver of your lips. In moments like this, he’s as beautiful as Belladonna and twice as deadly.

“I don’t know why you’re even trying to sweet talk your way out of this.” 

If his glare alone wasn’t enough to curb your tongue, then the shuttered expression carved into the planes of his regal face would.

Displeasure sits heavy on his brow, tucked into the corners of his mouth like an ill-fitting mask. Then his hand is slipping between your shaking thighs once more, the backs of his knuckles dragging over your abused, messy folds.

Jungkook hums when you sigh, jolt at the touch, and says, “Now, shut up and be a good girl for me.”

It’s deliciously painful, like blowing on numb fingertips in winter. Your legs spread wider to accommodate him on instinct alone.

Head rolling back to rest against the wall, the cool stone heaven on your sweaty neck.

And then a strike, viper quick, lands on your exposed pussy. Your reprieve ripped away and smashed at your feet as the wet, sloppy sound of an open palm making contact with tender flesh almost drowns out your wounded cry.

“A-Ah!”

You flinch away from the touch, flickers of pain pulsing through your sensitive clit. Nerve endings burn with sensation. Tiny cavities pepper your field of vision, the world a blurry kaleidoscope of color through pooling tears.

It’s hard to think, harder to breathe through the lingering throb and mounting shock.

Jungkook didn’t hit you too hard (he knows your limits), though he may as well have with how hypersensitive your pussy is. And still, amid prickles of pain, fresh arousal gushes from you to soak the length of his palm.

Cooing, he says your name, his lips cradling the syllables like a precious secret as his hand rubs circles over your mound. “Are you finally going to listen to me?”

Air hisses through your teeth as his fingers dip into your entrance, and it’s all suddenly too much. You drop too far, too fast. Lost and left adrift. Small. Fragile.

Heart lurching in your chest, the bitter ache throbbing in time with your pulse. Reminding you of how empty you are.

Sobs drip from your lips like dew drops, unintelligible words frantic as they break through the great, heaving gasps, “J-Jungkook, I can’t… Please, ‘m sorr- I can’t.”

“Oh, baby. You look so pretty when you’re such a fucking mess.”

Your breath hitches.

It feels like your skin’s too small, stretched tight over your bones until you’re bursting at the seams. The slightest touch will make you shatter to pieces, scattered across the floor like shards of fine china. 

Before you spiral too far beyond his reach, Jungkook guides you back, keeping his voice low and gentle in your ear while he shushes your warbling sniffles. Affection softens his smile, his eyes dark with perverse pride.

“Stop crying,” he chides tenderly, circling your clit with a ginger thumb. “You’re fine, promise. I’m here, I’ve got you.”

Kisses wick away the last of your tears, sweep over the delicate skin of your undereye.

“You did this to yourself.” Jungkook searches your eyes for confirmation, his brows furrowed and lips pursed. “You know that, don’t you?”

You nod, albeit stiltedly.

There are always consequences when you try to give him a taste of his own medicine - some worse than others. This time, you took things a little too far.

Now your cunt’s going to suffer the consequences of your stubbornness, but maybe if you butter him up beforehand…

The bob of his Adam’s apple captures your attention, your eyes tracing over the slope of his jaw, the tick of muscle as he grits his teeth.

Gnawing on your lip, you weigh your options.

You both know you hoped this would happen when you started acting bratty. Jungkook knows your dirty thoughts and filthy fantasies, how soaked you get from the thought of being pinned down, helpless.

Forced to take everything he gives.

… It isn’t even a question worth asking.

“Didn’t catch that.” Jungkook’s lips twitch with amusement, his fingers biting into the soft fat of your hip. “Come on, you’ve gotta use your words.”

The despair gripping your throat in a vice loosens with his lighthearted tone. Wetting your lips, you take the first step towards sparring yourself a brutal punishment by apologizing.

“I know it’s my fault - and I,” you swallow the flood of saliva pooling under your tongue, “I’m sorry.” 

"Mm, apology accepted." Jungkook hums, tracing the seam of your puffy pussy. “I’m so lucky I’ve got such a good fucking girl all to myself.”

Heat sinks into the apples of your cheeks, your thighs clamping closed around his wrist. There’s no denying the needy twitch of your hips at his words. A pleased rumble vibrates through his chest and into yours.

“Yeah, you like when I call you a good girl, baby?”

You whine, your eyes rolling back and your lashes fluttering.

Heat pulses through your belly in rhythmic waves, the residual pleasure from your interrupted orgasm kindling to light with little effort. You’d been so close, your body still desperate for relief. Thoughts slow and syrupy, cunt soaked and sloppy.

“Jungkook, please - lemme cum.” You try to rock down on his fingers only for his hand to restrain your hips. ”Fuck! Promise I’ll be good this time - jus’ need to…”

He tsks, saying, “Shh, you can cum all you want.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank-”

“If,” his smile is knife sharp, his eyes full of mischief, his words honey sweet, “you keep your eyes open and on me the whole time.”

Oh.

Oh no.

You’ll be dumb and drooling, starry-eyed and stupid once he stuffs you full. The burning stretch of his fat cock buried balls deep in your gummy walls while the spongy head slams into your g-spot without mercy, your cunt milking his shaft with every gushing orgasm fucked out of you. His name a holy prayer on your tongue.

There’s no fucking way.

Jungkook knows you barely remember to breathe once he’s on top of you, let alone maintain eye contact. Your inevitable failure will taste all the sweeter when it fizzles, pops, bursts under the bite of his teeth.

“Wait, wait, wait!”

“Good luck, baby.”

Panic grips you by the throat, your eyes wide and pleading. “Jungkook-”

“You’re gonna need it.”

Well, shit.

[fuck-you-upmusicbracket]

The Foundations of Decay (My Chemical Romance)

The guiltiness is yours/You must fix your heart/And you must build an altar where it swells/When the storm decays/And the sky it rains/Let it flood, let it flood, let it wash away/And as we stumble through our last crusade

And if by his own hand his spirit flies/take his body as a relic to be canonised/and so he gets to die a saint /while she will always be the whore

Let our bodies lay where our hearts will stay/Let our blood on vacation, you'll find God in pain/And if by his own hand his spirit flies/Take his body as a relic to be canonized/And so he gets to die a saint but she will always be the whore

"Every single lyric is so fucking powerful. the instrumentals hit every time. it’s such a powerful and moving and motivational song like yeah, everything is fucked up and ruined and will never be the same again. but keep moving. get up (coward). fix your heart. god it’s so good."

“Aside from being MCRs return song after 10 years. There's so much pain, and rage, and just deeply felt emotion. When I saw them live, screaming GET UP COWARD at the end is the single loudest sound I have ever made in my life."

"It's just... a spiritual feeling that washes over me whenever I listen to this song. I feel like I die and am reborn thousands of times throughout its six minute duration. The lyrics are poetry. A battle between giving up and letting the decay take over you or overcoming it and getting up no matter the consequences. But it's not like a gym song to work out to. It's a battle song to make it though the dark cave that is depression and suicidal thoughts and trauma. It's a song that brings you back from the dead."

I/Me/Myself (Will Wood)

I wish I could be a girl, and that way/You'd wish I could be your girlfriend, boyfriend/Am I pretty enough to love back?/No not yet/I wish I could be a girl, and really/I'd prefer it if you would use I/Me/Myself/Am I pretty enough, am I pretty enough to fucking die?

"Do you KNOW what the line “I am quantum physics, my witness brings me into existence” has DONE to me. to my psyche. because it’s like. okay so I’m so sorry if you know all of this already but in quantum physics theres something called the observer effect, where if you you measure something, it affects it. Like by checking tyre pressure, you have to let some air out, so you can’t physically measure it without changing what you’re measuring. in normal day to day life (like the tyre) this doesn’t really matter, because the effect is so small that you can basically ignore it. but quantum physics deals with really REALLY small shit so every single effect matters. Basically. observation of an object changes it’s state. this line is about acceptance. the euphoria of someone calling you by your preferred pronouns or chosen name. observation changing your state. It might seem small to others- someone who’s never been misgendered in their life it’s not even something that would occur to them, but to a trans/nb person who’s being observed, being SEEN? it’s everything. AND THE SHEER PUNCH OF “say my name like a slur, but I’ve been called worse” like. FUCK. oaky I think I’ve rambled enough about One Entire Line so lemme just wrap this up by saying that Will Wood is a cis man who ID’ as genderqueer for a while before realising that he wasn’t, he just had some internalised shit about being gnc and not traditionally masculine to work through, so he wrote this song about his frustrations with gender in general and about how clinging to an identity that didn’t fit him can hurt you"

[theonevoice]

Aziraphale doesn't drink coffee

My friends, it feels obvious now, but I finally managed to put my fingers on what was bothering me about this specific exchange of lines:

If you think about it, this exchange doesn't make sense. Aziraphale says:

"But I… I don't want to go back to Heaven. Where would I get my coffee?"

and the Metatron answers:

"You know, as Supreme Archangel, you would be able to decide who to work with."

What does being able to decide who to work with have anything to do with coffee?

At first, like many of us, I had interpreted the scene as Aziraphale using the coffee as a metaphor for expressing his love for Earth and earthly pleasures, and the Metatron slyly throwing the Crowley's restored angelic status card on the table to force him to change his mind, as if Crowley was the one important thing that could make Aziraphale forget all other things on Earth.

But here's the thing - and I don't know why I never noticed it before: as far as we know, Aziraphale doesn't drink coffee.

If I am not mistaken, there are only three explicit coffee references in the two seasons: the "six shots of espresso," the espresso cup that sits in front of Crowley on the table at the Ritz in s1ep1, and the two mugs in s1ep2 when Aziraphale and Crowley stops at a sort of dining place to discuss how to find the lost Antichrist. Now, unlike with the expresso cup at the Ritz, where we have an above shot that clearly shows traces of coffee, we don't see what's inside the two mugs here. But I don't think Aziraphale's one contains coffe: he's not even aware that caffeine is definitely does not "calm people down," it's very clearly not his thing.

Furthermore, we do know what his things are: little restaurants, sushi, classical music, old bookshops, tea, crepes, French wine… not coffee.

When the Metatron asks him to become Supreme Archangel, he could say "where would I get my sushi?" or "where would I get my books" or "where would I get my records" which is an actual line that he pronounced earlier while talking to Maggie.

Instead he says "coffee."

And then it struck me: Aziraphale is never associated with coffee. But Crowley is.

That's what he's saying, probably unconsciously: when he says "where would I get my coffee?" he's not expressing his love for Earth, he's expressing his love for Crowley.

He could even be doing this without realizing it, as a form of involuntary codification (codification like in Freud's or Matte Blanco's theories of unconscious mind: where something seated deep inside you hooks onto some minor detail outside and starts speaking through your words as if on its own accord). After all, this particular morning, after the emotional strain of the ball, the demonic attack during the night, and the unexpected revelation of Gabriel and Beelzebub relationship, seems to me like the sort of moment in which some amount of brain fog is to be expected, even for an angel.

But the Metatron sees straight through him, possibly even more clearly than he sees through himself, and gives an answer that ignores the superficial codification and address directly the deep meaning. He doesn't say: "as Supreme Archangel you would be able to pop down here whenever you want and have as much coffee as you like." He immediately sees that "where would I get my coffee?" means "how could I be together with Crowley?" and makes his dirty move of dangling the idea of restoring Crowley to his former angelic status in front of Aziraphale's face because he knows that this is the one and only point.

And now I really, really, really hope that in s3 we will see Supreme Archangel Aziraphale sending someone on Earth to get him some coffee - maybe a big cup with six shots of espresso in it and nothing else - and then grabbing the paper cup with a pain, strenght, and desperation that nobody else would understand.

[mariel-g]

Chemistry Homework?

Very self indulgent switch fem reader <3

MINORS U SILLY GALS, DO NOT INTERACT

You sigh as you stare at Jotaro Kujo’s profile, silently fanning yourself with your hand while the idle chatter of your chemistry teacher fades into the background. Jotaro Kujo is...well, he’s not the friendliest of people. Whenever you have tried to talk to him he blatantly ignored you, so you quickly learned to stop trying. 

As your thoughts drift away, his elegant side profile turned, revealing his full face in it’s glory. Startled, you jerk away and accidentally knock over a bottle of HCL with your elbow. 

“Oh! I am so sorry, here.” You mutter, frantically grabbing at a stack of tissues nearby and patting it over Jotaro’s thigh “Um, are you alright? Like, it didnt burn or anything, right?” 

You briefly close your eyes in disbelief, why the fuck did you say that? 

His large palm suddenly engulfs your hand, ceasing the frantic drying of his leg. “The dosage of true hydrochloric acid in the bottle would be too low to burn me, I’d think you’d know that already if you take this class.” 

Despite the harsh words, it was truly the first time you’d ever heard his voice. It was deep and velvety and honestly quite a turn on. Although his tone was biting and full of contempt, it sent a pleasant shiver down your spine. 

The noise of irritation he makes at the back of his throat makes your eyes fly up from his leg, settling on tracing the lines of his adams apple and defined neck before slowly meeting his eyes. When you meet them, the glare he pins you with makes you shrink back, only stopped by his hand that is still tightly clasped over yours. 

“Yes I know, I just was overly concerned, forgot the basics of chemistry haha...my apologies” you say weakly. 

“Get off me” he snarls. 

His leg starts to shake, from anger no doubt, and a sick sense of satisfaction runs through you, letting such an inconsiqentuial accident affect his mood so much is ridiculous. But then again, he always acts like a bandit pisses in his coffee each morning. 

“You’re still holding my hand” 

At that his thigh seemed to flex and harden underneath your finger tips and your fingers gave an involuntary squeeze back. His whole body goes completely rigid and he bites his lip as if in pain. Oh my god...was that his dick...? No, right?

Both of you sat completely still when the teacher suddenly addressed the both of you. “Jotaro and y/n, please clean up the mess, you should’ve told me if you wanted more tissues.” 

Jotaro’s eyes bore into you and he gives you a look of pure disgust before snatching his hand away from yours as if burnt. Despite of the rollercoaster of things that just happened you still had some scraps of your pride left, and you gave him the nastiest look you could muster before abruptly standing up. 

“Miss, may I please go clean the acid off?” 

“Yes you may y/n, I’ll clean the table myself dont worry” The teacher then glanced at Jotaro “You should go clean the HCL off yourself as well Jotaro, the dosage is low but it could still burn if left on the skin for too long.” 

You gave Jotaro a smug ‘I told you so’ look before traipsing out of class. Fervently trying to forget the heat emenating from the shape that was pressed against your hand as you cleaned. 

Ever since that day, you and Jotaro would bicker and annoy eachother to no end. You were fairly sure he hated you and the hatred is definitely mutual. After seeing him more often you realised that around everyone else he was generally pleasant if not quiet, it seemed that it was only around you where another side was brought out of him. You huffed a small laugh, you tend to have that effect on people. 

“What are you laughing at?” 

“Nothing really” you sighed. You tilted your head back and moaned softly. God, the feel of his pouty lips making love to your neck was heaven. 

He was on his knees in front of you as you sat on the side of the library’s setee, your leg on either side of him as his face nestled in your collarbone. (Mate, look he’s 6′5 just imagine that the setee is really low)

His tongue lazily swept across your pulse before suckling on it. “We should finish our chemistry homework.” 

You nodded airily in agreement. “We should.” 

Slowly, you brought one of your legs to rest between his thighs, allowing the base of your shin to softly rub against his hardened cock. He groaned softly, moving his hands braced on either side of the setee to wrap around the small of your back. 

“Don’t tell me you got hard just from kissing my neck?” You asked incredulously, stilling the languid movement of your shin against his dick. 

“I get hard just from looking at you” He said in a whisper “Keep rubbing my cock.”

At his crass wording your cheeks burst aflame with embarrassment, but you continued to pleasure him, delighting in the soft moans and groans that escaped from his mouth when you put more pressure on his member. 

“You should say please” 

“Why should I?”

“Because,” you completely stopped your ministrations on his dick “otherwise I’ll do this.” 

His jaw clenched in irritation and his full lips silently formed the word “bitch.” 

“If you still want to finish our homework it’s fine” you said breezily, making a show of repositoning the collar of your shirt and rebuttoning a few buttons.

“Wait,” He visibly swallowed a ball of irritation “keep rubbing my cock...please.” His adams apple bobbed. “And let me see you, all of you, please.” 

Satisfaction and a heady rush of power filled you. You’re able to make this proud man beg. 

“I enjoy having you on your knees in front of me” you whisper, heeding his request as you slowly unbutton enough buttons for your bra to be completely exposed to him. 

His hand cups your breast and squeezes hard, his thumb roughly rubbing over the nipple through the fabric of the bra. You let out a small yelp and narrow your eyes at him when he smirks. Payback I guess. 

He leans forward and nips your ear “And i enjoy being on my knees for you as well, let me make you cum.” 

Fuck. An ache setlles between your legs as your pussy desperately tries to clench around nothing. “Yes,” you say breathlessly “But we need to be quiet.”

The corner of the library you guys are in is uninhabited, but the whole establishment is not completely void of people. 

He kissed the tops of your breasts and slowly took off your bra, savouring every inch of naked skin that was revealed to him. When your chest was fully exposed, he moaned in satisfaction. 

“y/n, they’re perfect.” 

His lips instantly descended upon your nipple as the other hand massaged and played with your breast. You gasped at the feeling of his tongue circling around one of your nipples while his hand pinched and rubbed and squeezed the other. 

“Oh fuck” you panted, feeling euphoria wash over you as he continued to lavish equal attention upon both of your breasts before releasing them with a pop.

“Spread your legs”

You rose your eyebrow at his demanding tone, but complied, cautiously spreading your legs as he flipped up your skirt. 

“Fuck princess, is that spiderman underwear?” The side of his mouth was twitching as if he was trying painfully hard not to burst out laughing. 

You glared at him, “Do you want to see my pussy or not?” 

In response he pulled your knickers to the side and began rubbing your clit with his thumb in a smooth circular motion, his mouth parted in a moan when he saw how wet you became from his light touch against your clit.

“Your pussy is so beautiful” he murmured. “Can I put my fingers inside?” 

In response your loins clenched and you bucked your hips. “Fuck yes, and press harder on my clit.” 

“Your wish is my command mistress” he said sardonically, increasing the pressure on your clit to the point it nearly hurt. 

Slowly, he pressed one of his fingers into your opening and your toes curled. His thick finger stretched you out so good it made you moan, and your head lolled down to watch him as he watched his finger disappear inside of you till the hilt. 

Heat crawled up his neck as he bit his lip. “You’re so tight...and wet” he curled his finger slightly and you gasped as the tip of his finger rubbed against your most sensitive space. “And warm,” he slowly started to thrust his finger in and out. “All for me.” 

You moaned, “Jotaro, faster.”

“Yes.” 

“Another finger please” 

“Yes m’lady.” 

The volume of your moans nearly reached a pornographic level. The way his thumb circled your clit as his fingers stroked and pressed into your walls made your mind go numb.

“Please let me taste you,” he begged, the look in his eye wild as he bit your inner thigh.

In response you moved your hand to the back of his head and gave him what he desired, surrendering to the pleasure as he immediately started lapping at your cunt. He licked and sucked and expertly toyed with your clit with his large fingers still ramming inside of you.

“Baby, I’m going to cum” you whimpered

“Please cum on my fingers,” he said hoarsely around your clit, “Need you to cum on my fingers baby.” 

The vibrations from him speaking and his filthy words push you over the edge, and per his request you cum all over his fingers. Your eyes rolled back as your cunt convulsed around him. You had to throw a hand over your mouth so that you didnt scream.

He milked you through the orgasm, thrusting his fingers in languid strokes and lazily sucked on your clit with his eyes intensely watching your face.

“Jotaro please” you started to shy away from his attentions as the orgasm subsided.

Using his body weight, he pressed you down onto the setee. “I’m not finished yet.” Gingerly he started to eat at the honey your pussy produced, groaning in satisfaction while you meweled and bucked under his hold. 

“You taste so fucking good.” 

Eventually he released you from his taste testing and sat back on his haunches, admiring how pretty and fucked out you looked. 

“Maybe now that you’ve been satisfied like this you’ll stop being such a bitch” He commented mildly while he flipped your skirt back into place and straightened your shirt. 

“Yeah you’re right, I suppose I should have a weekly round of this, maybe next week should be Kakyoin.” You said lamely, to deep into post-orgasmic euphoria to conjure up a wittier response.

He frowned up at you. “Only me.” 

You snorted. “I suppose you’ll have to be my subservient sex slave for the rest of your life then” you said jokingly. 

For a second, when you looked into the teal of his eyes you thought you saw a look of reverence. He quickly put on his hat that was strewn haphazardly on the same desk your unfinished chemistry homework was on. 

“So I guess we aren’t enemies anymore,” you said absent-mindedly. “Having an enemy that’s...yknow done that to me would be kind of embarrassing.” 

He cleared his throat loudly as he stuffed the chemistry textbooks into his bag. 

“A truce?”

“Good grief, fine.” 

“It’s a shame we couldnt get our chemistry homework done.” 

An ironic smile touched his lips. “No, I’d say it’s pretty completed.” 

You looked at him quizzically but said nothing, instead opting to rising onto your toes to give him a soft kiss. It was brief but it left him speechless and flushed. 

He watched you, face distraught as you walked ahead of him towards the library exit.

“Let’s go,” you said when you realised he wasn’t following “do you reckon anyone heard me?” 

“Nah.”

[smoooothoperator]

What A Shame

01: Red

Driver! Charles Leclerc x Singer! OC (Juliette Morelli)

Exes to Lovers, Forced Proximity, Childhood Sweathearts

Summary: two once lovers see each other again after ten years. Will things go well?

Words: 2.3k

a/n: hello and welcome to my newest fic!!! I really hope everyone enjoys this story since it's the first one I write after a long time!

Every interaction is very welcomed!!!!

Masterlist

next part

Just to get some things clear:

this fic happens on 2030 and there will be some flashbacks of previous years, making Charles be 32 years old

most of the songs I'll be using or make references are from Taylor Swift, and if you want to I could post the playlist I'm listening while I write

🎤

Maid of honor. The most important woman of the bridesmaids, the person that will be there for the bride whenever she needs her. Historically, the maid of honor was the attendant of the a queen in royal households or the most important woman of the house; she was a maiden that never have been married and a virgin. A woman that could be there for someone superior or more important for her.

When you have years of experience being the maid of honor, supporting and helping your friends on their most important day, you get used to the term. It's easy to joke and laugh about it, to ignore the ache on the chest when friends ask one more time to be their maid of honor.

"You should work as a wedding planner" the parents of the bride use to tell me, patting my back and congratulating me for my great job.

"Too bad I'm a singer, huh?" I use to answer them with a smile, hiding the pain of their words.

They never ask why I'm always the maid of honor. Why I'm always there for their daughters, making sure everything is perfect and ready for them, telling always the same line after my speech.

"With love, Juliette: always the maid of honor but never the bride" I use to say, turning off the mic and smiling at my friends, hearing laughs and people clapping, not knowing that it hurts admitting to myself that I'll never be on that spot of the table wearing a dress that makes me look like a princess.

So, when Valerie didn't ask me to be her maid of honor, it took me for surprise. Valerie was always by my side when he left me, giving me her shoulder to cry and her spare room to stay when I needed it. Valerie was like a sister for me, someone I would say yes no matter what she asked me to do.

"I know you hate it" she sighed. "I won't torture you, I know you always joke about that but deep inside you are in pain. I won't put you on that position ever again. But I want you to be there on my wedding"

How could I say no? She's my best friend and actually the first person that took that tag of the maid of honor off of me.

"I want you to be happy, Juliette" she sighed.

"You know I can't " I sighed looking at my hands. "He hurt me and there's no way I can get out of that whole"

"You can, you know you can and you will" she said sure if herself, like making a promise. "I heard Pierre will invite some of his friends, I bet you'll find someone out there"

Pierre Gasly, Valerie's boyfriend for many years and nod her fiance. He's a known racing driver for some years now, being famous and all it comes with that. The wedding will be an important event, media wants to know every small detail of it and share it to the world. Now it makes sense why Valerie didn't ask me to be the maid of honor.

But I was with her all the time, dreaming, looking at her trying all those white dresses and wishing it was me for once, trying the cakes with her on our sleepovers and wishing to have someone cutting the cake with me, looking at the pictures she sent me of the flowers and imagining myself holding them when walking to the aisle.

I wished, again, that I was the bride.

The wedding was coming, looking now at the calendar it was closer than I thought it was going to be, making me search for a dress desperately, not wanting to use of of those dresses I used as a maid of honor.

"Wear something simple" Valerie said sitting on my bed. "Maybe one of those satin dresses you like"

"But that's too simple" I frowned. "It's your wedding, Val"

"I don't care, Juliette" she said smiling, shaking her head. "Plus, you look amazing on those dresses. The red one you wore on that charity gala last month was amazing, you could wear it on the rehearsal dinner"

"But what about the actual wedding!"

Finding a dress was harder than I thought. As the maid of honor I had to wear the dress the bride wanted, but now I could choose whatever I wanted to wear.

"Hey, hey, relax. Just... Relax, okay? Just wear something you feel comfortable with" she said trying to calm me.

So yeah, I did what she asked. I bought a dress on a random shop, something I could wear with the most comfortable heels I had on the wardrobe, and put everything I needed on a suitcase.

Valerie and Pierre were going to do their wedding on a nice villa, with vineyards and all the luxury you can imagine when both of them have lots of money, and since his family is religious they will do the wedding on the cozy church of the village with a small group of close friends and family.

The dinner rehearsal will be there on the villa, making sure that the next day everything will be ready and will work smoothly.

The red dress was hanging on the door of the closet, brighter than ever. I used to like red, he made me love it. It was his dream since he was a child, watching the red cars drive under his balcony around the streets of Monaco, and imagining that once he was older he would drive one of those.

"I'll be your Michael and you'll be my Corinna!" he used to say while we sat next to each other on the floor as kids, watching the TV and how Michael Schumacher won those races with his red Ferrari.

Using red after him felt like a punishment, a self torture. How can I be so stupid? So weak to not move on and we drowned on self pity?

I took a deep breath, taking off the silk robe and getting dressed while looking at myself on the mirror.

"Come on, why can't you be with someone?" I said to the reflection of myself. "You are freaking Juliette Morelli, a well known singer! You fucked with freaking Shawn Mendes and the Sebastian Stan flirted with you! You can do better than him"

At this point I was too desperate to forget him. I needed to stop thinking about him, it happened nearly ten years ago. How can I be so stupid and still not move out?

But still... It feels like if that happened yesterday.

"I'm sorry, Juliette" he said suddenly after he sat on the couch of the livingroom. "This isn't working anymore, I need to focus on my job and you are distracting me. It was funny while it lasted. I wish your career goes good as well"

I can do better than him, a stupid driver.

When I walked out of the room, with the purse hanging on my shoulder, the hair down and the red dress hugging my body, I felt confident. I knew I can get over him.

"Wow, Juliette!" Valerie gasped when she saw me walk inside the big room with some of the important guests. "I told you that dress looked amazing on you. Red has always been your color"

"You are right" I smile, somehow sure of myself, believing my own words. "It looks better on me"

🏎️

The moment Pierre asked me to be his best man I didn't waste any second to say yes. Even if I knew that he wanted another person to be his best man, someone that is not longer with us, I said yes immediately.

"I know what you are thinking" Pierre sighed patting my back. "He'll be with me there, but I need my best friend right now and I need it that day too. Tonio would be so glad that you'll be there for me"

"I know, but..." I sighed, taking a deep breath. "I'll go, I promise you I'll be there. But right now I just realized that it's only you and I that's left from that group of innocent kids that only wanted to drive and have fun"

"Come on dude, don't talk like if Esteban is dead!" Pierre laughed. "We have arguments, we're no longer friends... but he was on the pictures too and he's still in this world"

"You idiot" I laughed rolling my eyes.

My best friend is going to get married. He's still with the girl he met when he finished high school and now they will spend the rest of their lives together, form a family.

I promised that to someone long time ago. I promised that I would be there for her and that I'll let her be there for me.

"You know, Valerie asked her to sing" Pierre sighed iling weakly at me.

"Huh? Who?" I frown, being taken out of my thoughts.

"You know who" he sighed.

"Oh... That's cool" I nodded. "Cool, cool, cool, cool... Yeah, all cool"

"When was the last time you saw her?" he sighed closing his eyes.

"You know the answer of that" I said looking down at my lap.

The last time I saw her I tried to not look at her. I walked inside her apartment and stayed there for less than five minutes, hearing her heart break and walking out of it before she talked. I had to be heartless, leave for her and my own good.

"You are so coward, dude" he sighed shaking his head in disapproval.

"I did what I had to do" I frowned looking at him. "Plus, her own career was starting to grow and I couldn't be distracted because of her"

I saw Pierre shaking his head disappointed, patting my back and walking away. I already know what he's thinking, that I shouldn't let her go.

I still remember how I felt when I walked out of her apartment, how the tears were blurrying my eyes and I had to take a deep breath and wait an hour to start driving to my own apartment. I still remember how I felt when I heard the song that made her fame grow, those three letters of the title laughing at me knowing damn well that she wrote that song pouring all her heard on it.

The next months of preparations of Pierre's wedding were intense. The season was still going on, since he planned getting married on our summer break in August, so we had to plan everything on the time we had free, making it easy for us since we spent most of the time together.

It was only the week before his wedding when her name came to my mind.

Juliette Morelli. Valerie's best friend. And my ex.

Pierre told me she was going to sing on their first dance, that she was going to be at the dinner rehearsal and that she was going to stay in the villa the whole weekend.

"You just have to not go on her way" I said talking to myself in the mirror on my own room of the villa. "Try to ignore her. Maybe after all this years she won't recognize me, right? Yeah, yeah, she won't recognize me"

I have to focus on the rehearsal. I need to work along side with Valerie's sister to coordinate everything and make sure that the flower girl is comfortable and I have to make sure that I don't lose the rings. Easy peasy.

But that focus slipped away from my mind the moment I walked inside the big room, with a small group of guests, and I saw a red dress.

But what unfocused me wasn't the dress. Was who was wearing it.

"Oh, I finally found you" Pierre said and looked at me, then who I was looking at. "And you found her"

"Does she know I'm here?" I asked, not taking my eyes off of her.

She's so much more beautiful than before. More mature. Oh God, how much I missed her laugh, how she played with her hair when she was feeling comfortable and relaxed.

"Earth to Charles" Pierre said nervous. "Come on dude, this is about to start and you are just staring to your ex. That's creepy, by the way"

"Shut up, mate!" I exclaimed, shutting him up covering his mouth with my hand. "Don't you dare to tell her I'm here. I'll make sure that she never sees me and in that way none of us will know about the other this whole weekend. Okay?"

Pierre nodded and then I let him go, looking at him carefully.

Juliette can't know that I'm here, I'm not ready to talk with her. After all those years I'm not ready to face her and even hear her voice, even if all this time I have heard her songs.

"Come on, everything is going to start" Valerie's sister came towards me, taking me out of my thoughts.

I nodded and took a deep breath, standing in my position and looking at the door, ignoring the need of searching that red dress between the people that was there. I can't look at her, I really can't.

But then I heard it. A gasp. And not of Pierre looking how Valerie walked towards him practicing how she will do it tomorrow, not the parents of the flower girl walking in with her little basket and doing like if she threw petals.

No. The person that gasped was the person I wanted to avoid. The one I hurt the most in this room. The one that right now is standing and walking out of the room, the red dress walking out of the room.

"Good job trying to avoid her, Leclerc" Pierre whispered looking back at me. "Another one of your plans working perfectly bad"

[x0x0josephinex0x0]

svt reaction: the one who got away | part 1 hyung line version

this v angsty request is from @f4iryjjosh and IT HURT MY SOUL TO WRITE hahahaha thank you so much for the request angel <3 i hope it fulfills all ur desires! (part 2 coming soon :))

the idea is that SVT breaks up with y/n after meeting someone else and falling for them, and then realizing they made a huge mistake, but you've moved on and there's nothing they can really do about it. it is all angst and pain. there is no relief.

seungcheol. he hated hearing his full name from anyone's lips, and he should've hated it even more coming from the lips that he'd be dreaming about for ages. but for some reason, in your voice, it made him smile. even after all this time.

and that smile, the one where he looked at you with his big shining eyes like you'd saved his life or restored his family honor, was almost enough to make you forget everything that had happened between you.

almost.

as it was, you gave him a soft smile back. "hey," you said. "you okay?"

a thousand thoughts pass through his mind at once -- you in his arms, you sighing his name, you breaking down in tears in your best dress in the restaurant where he broke your heart, you you you. god knows all the ways he’s thought about you, in spite of himself, with an alcohol burn to the back of his throat or stone-cold sober. some mistakes stick around, and what he said to you that night is undoubtedly the clingiest one he’s ever made. he knew it then, and he knows it now — seeing your face, however hesitant or worried you might look, is enough for him to know he’s still dead gone over you.

he shakes himself back to reality. "yeah," he says. "i'm okay. you look...great. happy."

"i am," you reply, and he notices, like a knife to his chest, you playing with a glittering ring on your finger, a nervous habit.

"is that --" he says, pointing, "what i think it is?"

you look down at your hand. "oh, yeah!" you exclaim, and despite yourself you smile broadly. "yeah, it is. um, it's pretty new, though. just happened last week."

"does he treat you right?" seungcheol asks, his eyes serious, his tone sharper than he intended. he'll know if you're lying, he always does.

so when you nod, thinking about the man you'll marry, about how he's sweet and gentle and knows how to pull a smile out of you on your very worst days, seungcheol's heart breaks a little more. because he knows it’s true, which means it’s all really over. the fire that kept your relationship with him alive has burned out, and he's the only one with any ashes left to spare.

he musters a smile as well. "good. i'm happy for you. well, it was good seeing you again," he says, turning away. and he curses his eyes for stinging, because he knew if you saw him cry you'd feel guilty, but after everything he put you through, you deserve to just be happy -- happy and nothing else -- for once.

jeonghan it was gradual for him, but it could be traced back to a very specific moment: when he found that letter from you, the one you’d written in class before you’d ever decided to mean anything to each other:

“date me?” it read, with two checkboxes, yes or no. jeonghan remembers how he checked the box labeled “yes” with a crisp black pen to hand back to you, and the look in your eyes when you unfolded it, and the smiles on both of your faces after you’d made out in the boys’ bathroom on the second floor like a couple of love-drunk highschoolers.

that note had heralded feelings jeonghan was desperate to ignore. he had ended it with you. his life was a carefully orchestrated set of advantageous events. he was always the one in control, and he never, ever lost.

so why did he feel like the world’s most pathetic loser whenever he saw that stupid note?

in the end, he’d had to do some serious soul-searching to determine why he even cared so much. he’d been bored, he determined — bored because you were so easy to be around, bored because you never made him feel unsafe or unloved, bored because loving you wasn’t a game he could play to win.

even now, as he stared at the note in his hands, crumpled with the years, jeonghan fought off the urge to call you. he lurked on social media and saw you traveling, eating, living like you’d always wanted to live. just a week prior he’d nearly cried at a picture of you in front of a castle somewhere in Germany, your arms outstretched like you were ready to hug the whole world. it was so you — the castle, the pose, the huge smile in the photo, even the windswept hair. and it hurt so much to see how beautiful you still were.

and a part of him knew that if he called, you would come back for him. because that was who you were.

so he never called, even as he burned with a thousand regrets for all the things he’d done wrong. selfish as he might be, he wasn’t monstrous enough to rob you of a life that was fuller without him in it.

joshua. you really never could be mad at joshua. not even when your relationship was staggering to its painful end, not even when you both knew that it wasn't working, not even when he broke up with you and started dating someone he'd told you not to worry about.

and not now, when you've run into him at a restaurant, right around the two-year mark of the breakup. you weren't in a great place when you'd started dating joshua, and the relationship had brought out the very worst in you, prompting a long period of self-improvement following the breakup.

now, you're in an amazing place, so much so that you're actually happy to see joshua here -- still with the girl he left you for, but looking preoccupied until you called his name and he met your eyes.

his eyes light up. "hi!" he says. "wow, it's you!"

"it is," you say, smiling. "how are things?"

he hesitates, and your heart sinks. you can tell that he hasn't done as well post-breakup as you have, and where the past you would've been a little smug about that, now you just feel compassionate. "things are crazy," he says with a smile that doesn't reach his eyes.

because in truth, joshua's looking at you, and though his hand is on the knee of the woman he thought would be better for him than you were, he's wishing he could stand up and hug you. here you are, just like in his memories but better, because your eyes are bright with life and your brows aren't knit together in worry like they always seemed to be when you were together.

joshua knew the relationship you'd had with him had been really hard on you. and he understood the reasons why it didn't work. you had been so insecure you couldn't see your own appeal, and joshua had been burnt out trying to prove it to you. and he could see that he'd made the right choice -- for you, at least.

because for him, every time he looked into the eyes of the woman he was with now, he wished they were yours.

this was an admission he couldn't make to himself until you were there in front of him, in a way he'd only let himself imagine after his lover was asleep next to him and he was drifting off himself.

and oh, it burns.

he doesn't say anything about it now -- that's going to have to wait for later, at home, where things are going to need to be said. but for now, he greets you politely, watching you leave after a bout of small talk that taught him nothing at all about where you ended up after he broke your heart. and he wonders vaguely if he'll ever, ever, ever forgive himself.

the odds aren't good.

junhui. "hey stranger," he says, and even after all the time and everything that has passed between the two of you, it still makes you ache a little.

but you muster a smile, a little wave. "hey jun."

"you're here for work?" it's not really a question he's asking, because you know he already knows that that's why you're on this particular street.

"yeah," you say anyway. "and you? what brings you here?"

he smiles to himself. "just needed some fresh air."

he'll never tell you that it's because he's been religiously coming here since you blocked his number two years ago, hoping this very thing would happen.

"how have you been?" you ask him, and he fights back memories of the times he spent without you, with someone else, knowing that if he remembers them it'll show on his face.

"good," he lies. never mind that at the back of his closet is a hoodie he let you borrow, and it's hidden back there because it still smells like you. never mind that he's been spending day after day in this same stupid alley where you film those same videos for your job, hoping that you'll show up so he can see you. "and you?"

"i'm happier than ever," you tell him.

and you look it. you look happy. happier than you were with him.

with a funny feeling in his stomach, jun turns away from you with a little wave. "well, it was good to see you again. i'm glad you're happy."

he'll never come back to this street again.

soongyoung. "what are you doing here?" asks soonyoung with wide eyes.

you gesture to the man at your side. "i'm here on a date, actually," you say. and oh, thank goodness you look good, and your date (who is your longtime boyfriend, actually) looks good, because, well, soonyoung also looks good. and you're glad you've run into him at an opportune moment for you.

"oh," he says, looking at the man beside you. "uh, you must be..."

"my boyfriend," you finish for him. "this is soonyoung," you say to your boyfriend.

your boyfriend gives him a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. he's heard all about the man who broke your heart into a thousand pieces, leaving him to pick up all the pieces and put them back together again. he doesn't mind doing it, but because of how badly you were hurt, he has spent more time than he'd like to admit wishing you'd never met the man in front of him right now. "hi," he says, shaking soonyoung's hand.

"hi," soonyoung says breathlessly. "wow, uh...nice to meet you. i'm, well..."

"my ex," you say with a smile. "it's okay. he knows."

of course he knows, soonyoung thinks to himself. of course you had to have had the discussion about how your previous boyfriend fell out of love with you.

or thought he had.

"how's ... um... i don't remember their name," you admit, trying to recall the person soonyoung had left you for.

"it didn't work out between us," he says quickly. "we broke up six months ago."

"oh," you say. "i'm sorry."

it's awkward now, the three of you standing there staring at each other, so you grab your boyfriend's hand. "well, it was good seeing you," you say as you pull him away.

you have a nice dinner with your boyfriend and even laugh over the encounter later. but soonyoung is haunted for months. because he noticed how safe and easy it was between you and your boyfriend, and it reminded him of how you used to act with him before he messed everything up.

wonwoo. as cautious and careful as wonwoo always was about everything, regret was not a common experience for him. so it was quite the shock when he found himself filled with it night after night following his split from the person he left you for.

when he'd broken up with you, you'd sincerely wished him well, and promised he'd never see you again if he didn't want to. and two years later, you'd kept that promise, never reaching out to him, never begging him for an explanation he didn't want to give, never worrying him with memories of the two of you when you'd been happy.

and this had been part of the reason why he'd broken up with his new girlfriend -- he kept remembering how unobtrusive you were. the way you fit into his life like a puzzle piece made for him. and even now, as he rereads all the passionately hateful texts his now-ex spams his phone with, he remembers you.

it's been forever since he unfollowed you on social media, but he looks you up all the same. he almost follows you again, almost likes your most recent post of you out with some friends, but thinks better of it.

you were so fair to him, so up-front and honest about everything. how unkind it would be, he thinks, to dredge up the past when you look so happy. how unpleasant for you, to be reminded of someone who hurt you so deeply.

so he shuts off his phone and sinks into bed, allowing the regret to wash over him like a wave.

jihoon. explaining that he'd fallen out of love with you was the second most exhausting task of jihoon's entire life. the most exhausting one, it turns out, was staying in a relationship with the person he'd left you for while pesky reminders of you kept flooding his brain.

after yet-another fight with his current partner, jihoon lies awake in bed, his jaw clenched, as he remembers how you'd make up with him after a fight, crawling into bed beside him and kissing his cheeks and whispering "i'm sorry", sometimes through tears, until he'd turn and embrace you back.

his current partner never apologizes or even admits any responsibility at all. as he lays there remembering how it felt to have your face buried in his neck, he comes to the shocking realization that he wishes it was you beside him still.

because with you, he knew he could always tap you on the shoulder and beat you to an apology, and it would be immediately forgiven. the guilt of having broken a heart like that is too overwhelming for him, and he suddenly needs to talk to you like he needs air in his lungs to live.

so he silently slides from bed, picks up his cell phone, and leaves the room. he dials your number from memory, having deleted it from his phone.

"your call cannot be completed as dialed," the voice says. he blinks and tries again. same response. it occurs to him that you may have blocked him for your own sanity, and the guilt intensifies, turning into tears he hates almost as much as he hates himself.

he spends the rest of the night with his phone in his hand, looking for any traces of you that may be left in the photos and memories there.

[sabo-has-my-heart]

Hi. How are you? Can you please do a Sabo x Female Reader Fluff with a little angst. The reader is Ace’s widow (and childhood sweetheart) and Sabo goes to find her and protect her but falls in love like when he was a kid again.

Hey, so... this turned out a bit angstier than I intended, but it still had a happy ending, I promise!

Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, happy ending

Word Count: 1340

    Staring out at the water, you let your mind wander. You missed him so much, you wished he was still here, still with you. Part of you, part of you, understood why he died. He was saving his little brother. But you couldn’t help but be mad at him too. If he’d just kept running, if he’d just ignored Akainu. Tears ran down your cheeks as you continued to stare out at the water, only to be startled out of your thoughts when one gloved hand rested on your shoulder, and another began wiping away tears. 

     “I know you miss him, I do too, but he wouldn’t want you to dwell on what happened like this.” Sabo said softly, giving you a soft, comforting smile.

     “I… I know, but I just… from the moment… after you… he was always there for me. He held me as I cried, made me laugh when I was down, protected me even if I didn’t need it. Sabo, he… he was my everything.” you said, more tears beginning to stream down your face, Sabo pulling you close, one hand on the back of your head, the other around your waist as he let you cry into his chest. It reminded you so much of Ace. Ace, who would wrap one arm around your waist and one around your shoulders as you cried into his bare chest. Ace, who would say ‘hey, watch this!’ before doing something reckless, dangerous, and stupid but always helped your mood. Ace, who would beg Thatch to cook your favorite for no other reason than to make you smile. Clinging to Sabo’s clothing, you let yourself cry, let yourself mourn. Looking out at the ocean that you had just been staring at, Sabo made a silent promise to himself and his brother. He would protect you from now on. He would protect you, care for you, bring the smile back to your lips, he would never take Ace’s place, but he would be there for you like Ace had been.

     It didn’t take long for Sabo to remember his old feelings for you. Despite how you’d changed over the years, despite your grief over Ace, you were still you. You were still the same girl he and Ace fought over as kids. Not that you knew they were fighting over you, but they did. Part of him wished he could have been there, growing up with the two of you. Continuing his rivalry with Ace to win your heart, watching Luffy grow up, hunting, training, everything. He didn’t regret joining the RA, but he also wished he could have been there for his brothers, been there for you. His only solace was that he could be there for you now, that he could do something for you now. The two of you spent a lot of time talking, reminiscing, telling him stories. You told him about everything that had happened between his ‘death’ and Ace’s death. Told him about setting sail with his brother and joining Ace’s crew, about how you started dating and how you got married. It was so good to hear about Ace. Robin had told him about Luffy, but no one had told him about Ace and hearing about his brother felt so good, if not simultaneously painful. True to his silent vow, he did everything in his power to take care of you. He made you smile, gave you a shoulder to cry on, and always looked out for you. Whenever he had to leave on a mission, you were nearby; perhaps not in the direct line of fire like he was, but close enough that you wouldn’t have to spend weeks and weeks without him. 

     Sabo couldn’t help but stare at you, smiling dreamily, his head in his hand. He knew you had been his brother’s girl, that falling for you probably wasn’t the best idea in the world, but how could he help himself when you were just so… you? Okay, yes, he felt terrible for falling for his dead brother’s girl, and yes, he’d tried not to, but just like when you were kids, you’d wormed your way into his heart, seemingly without effort. Despite his attraction to you, he continued to tell himself not to do anything. No making moves, no flirting, no touching outside of comfort and friendly hugs, absolutely not! Granted, everyone saw it, or at least, everyone who wasn’t you saw it. They saw the looks, the barely restrained affection, the hidden frustration. He never let you see it though, if you saw the way he looked at you, at his brother’s girl, all he could think was that you’d be furious with him. Angry at him for loving you when his brother, the love of your life, was gone. Shaking himself out of his thoughts and daydreams, he looked away. Besides, he had other things he needed to worry about right now. He’d gotten a lead on Ace’s devil fruit, something he wouldn’t let anyone else have. Taking a deep breath, he walked over to you.

     “Hey, I uh, I’ve got a mission coming up, you’re free to come with  if you’d like, but I was gonna… I was gonna visit Ace so I thought, if you’re not ready-” “I want to come with. I… I haven’t seen him in… a while.” you said, cutting the boy off. The last time you’d been there was when he was buried, when you placed a bouquet of hibiscus flowers on his grave. 

     Looking down at Ace’s grave marker, you couldn’t help but fidget nervously. You’d asked Sabo for a moment alone. 

     “Hey Sweetheart. It’s… it’s me. I’m still here, uh, sort of. I know I’m not here a lot, but Sabo’s been taking care of me…. I miss you so much.” you took a deep breath, rubbing some tears away, “I… I feel bad, my love. When we were younger, I knew about how you both felt about me. You thought you hid it, but I knew about your rivalry…. I… I never chose because I didn’t know who to choose. You were both so great in your own ways. Both energetic, both strong, brave, and protective. Whether or not you’d admit it, you both cared a great deal and it showed. Yet so different at the same time. You were impulsive, brash, angry, and, well… a little violent. Sabo was intelligent, sweet, thoughtful, and charismatic. When we thought Sabo died, my decision was sort of made for me. I liked you both but Sabo was gone. Don’t… don’t hate me, please. Wherever you are, please don’t hate me for falling for him. All the feelings I had when we were young… I’m so sorry.” you put your hand over your mouth, muffling a small sob. You’d fallen for the blond, “I still love you so, so much, that’ll never change. But I love him too.” a warm breeze tousled your hair and caressed your cheek, making you smile, “I’ll try and visit more often, I promise and I’ll make sure Sabo takes good care of your devil fruit.” you said, kissing your fingers before pressing them against the top of the gravestone. With that, you turned around, joining Sabo as you headed back to the ship, slowly, gently taking his hand in yours. From his spot, crouched on top of the stone, Ace smiled as he watched you and Sabo walk away. Sabo would take good care of you, he’d love you just like Ace had, there was no one he trusted more with your heart than his brother. 

     “Take care of her for me, Sabo. I’m trusting you to love her just as much as I did.” the black haired boy said as he watched you look out at the sea with Sabo, your head resting on his shoulder. Sabo would take good care of you just as Ace had, because he loved you just as much as Ace had and you loved them. You loved both of them.

[neverchecking]

Oh my godddd I love your writing sm

And I also love @welcometothefairgrounds , I am her 🧚‍♀️ anon. May is a lovely person

If you’re doing requests, could I get yandere time? My daddy issues are calling lmao

If not feel free to ignore, I got too excited and forgot to read lmao

- @fairly-linked-buffet (don’t want this on my sfw acc and tumblr is being dumb so here)

I love her sm! She is honestly a gem. I'm glad to have someone from her page here with us! And don't worry! Requests are currently open so you're all good!

Some Father Time to bless your day, Darling~

I really liked how this one came out so I hope you do too! Personally, one line in this- Idk, it hit me and I wrote it and I still am just :O everytime I read it.

(IDK if I got his sword right??? I think I did, but idk-)

CW: Just some disturbing imagery, but it is Yandere!

Anything

Warrior's Hyrule was just as nice as it was last time he was here. The people still bustled as they always did, calling out demands, or bargaining for a better price, maybe haggling over a trade. It kept the streets busy and full, foot traffic flowing in every which way. Exactly why Time needed to keep an eye on you at all times. Not only an eye, but a hand. Your fingers, delicate and slim, were kept interwoven with his own, feeling so soft against his calloused digits.

Every bit of you was so soft when compared to him. From your gentle movements as you walked, with the sway of your hips and head, to the calculated movements of your hands whenever you patched him up, not that he ever wished for any blood, let alone his, to sully your perfect skin. It always pained him whenever you had to see him injured in any capacity. The pinch in your browns and the furrow of your lips, all of it enough to make him internally panic before trying to fix it. Having you upset in any capacity was enough to poison his mood. He was built and formed to be a weapon of destruction, unbeatable and a figure invincible to anything thrown at him. A weapon fit to protect only the finest of jewels bestowed upon humanity. You. He was convinced he was put on this wretched world for you. To protect and love and cherish someone as soft as you. Till his dying breath and even then he would be hard-fought to not crawl out of his grave to ensure your safety.

All of that to say, he kept your hand clasped tightly in his with no intention of letting go. Not when the risk of you getting lost, or run over or goddess forbid hurt was too high. While he was more than happy to escort you wherever your heart desired, he was not willing to risk your wellbeing in any way, shape or form. That was too far beyond what he could allow. At least when he was with you while you went from stall to stall, he could watch over you. He could use his stature and his attitude to ensure your safety.

Time knew he was tall. And Built. And looking every bit a soldier the other knights of this time wished they could be. And he knew how to use it. He knew how to angle himself in a way to shadow over anyone who thought they could fool you into spending three times what the object was worth. He knew how to set his jaw and level his brows to...dissuade any possible passerby's from leering at you. He knew how to be intimidating to anyone but you.

Sweet, perfect you who saw through all of his defenses and touched him like he was a porcelain figure. Like he was capable of laying down his weapons and being a regular civilian. Like he was nothing more than the man you proclaimed him to be.

Like he was not a pagan of war but rather a child of peace.

It's what made you so perfect for him. Someone so akin to a saint saw something worthy of loving in him and clung to it. And he'd be damned before letting your love go to waste. Why waste it when he could use it to live? Live for someone, something, other than himself and that damned duty bestowed upon him. That destiny he was cursed with by that fraud of a Goddess. Why waste his time and feelings on hating the circumstances placed around him by a fake, when he could devote his being to his real goddess?

That's not to say everyone else saw you the same way he did though. He saw you as an otherworldly being worthy of his respect above all else.

Apparently that went above other pests comprehension though.

Time had been keeping an eye on him the whole time, with his greasy, clicked back hair and sunken eyes. Looking every bit a rat Time thought him as. He slithered about like a worm as well, watching you and your every step. Nothing seemed to deter him. Not any of the glare's Time shot him, not any of the ways he stepped as to cut off his view from you, not the Biggoron sword clunking against his hip in an unsaid, but no less serious, threat.

He just wouldn't let up.

He even looked brave enough to consider approaching you, one foot stepping past the shadows of the stalls and alleyways.

Kill him.

He need to take care of him. Take him away from you before he could sully your divine form. He could feel the power of the unspeakable buzz beneath his skin as he stepped closer.

KiLl HiM.

He could do it. He could easily do it. Take care of the pest. Drag him behind one of alleyways after finding one of the boys to look after you for the time while he took care of this degenerate.

KILL HIM.

It would be elementary. He had probably faced Bokoblins that put up more of a fight than he would. He was short and stout, something Time's own broad form shadowed at least twice over.

KILL HIM

His sword would just slice right through his flimsy flesh, painting his surroundings a dark red as his worthless body slumped to the ground, before being left to the wolves to pick apart. He doubted even those feral beasts would touch such a slimy creature such as this merchant, who was still inching closer.

KILL HIM KILL HIM KILL HIM KILL HIM KILLHIMKILLHIMKILLHIMHESGETTINGTOOCLOSEKILLHIM

Just as his hand raised to the hilt of his sword, your hand, perfect and soft and light and grounding, settled on his forearm. "Ooh, look, Time!" Your eyes, gorgeous pools of every color he saw in his dreams, were alight with excitement as you remained completely oblivious to the stray in the background. "There's a bakery! Can we go, please?" You then turned your pout to him, melting his fiery rage into a simmering pool.

It wouldn't disappear, oh no, but it would be lowered from a boiling rage, full of livid restlessness and cold turmoil, to a stewing annoyance. Something he would nurture and let grow into a full fledged plan to dispose of this creature. It no longer had to be quick, not anymore, now it could be a slow and painful demise worthy of daring to creep on his Goddess.

He smiled, that special smile just for you, as he used his free hand to gently angle your chin upward to meet his eye just a little more. "Of course, darling, your wish is my command." If only you knew what you could wish from him. What he would do to ensure it came true.

Anything to see you smile.

(Anything. Including sneaking off in the late of night, nodding to Wars and Twilight, who were on watch, and disappearing into the night.)

(Anything. Including breaking into a non-assuming house, full of dust and mold, vines crawling up the sides. Doing so practically silently.)

(Anything. Including pulling out the Biggoron sword and holding it high enough the moonlight reflected off of it just enough to gently light up his target. )

(Anything. Including plunging the tip of his blade into their shoulder to pin them to their stack of hay and blankets, holding a hand over their screaming mouth as they shot to the conscious world.)

(Anything. Including spending the late hours making sure this filth understood exactly where he went wrong. Exactly why this was happening. Making him think he had a chance at life. Making him believe that Time would let him go. Only to snuff that pathetic life away with just enough time to clean up and get back to you.)

(Anything. You just had to wish it.)

[heartstringsduet]

Hi there! If you don't mind me coming to TK's defense in the fight, and specifically the issue of how he seemed so harsh. And I agree that there's a bit of an assumption on TK's part thatCarlos would support his decision. So from what I saw TK didn't really get mad until Carlos brought up his father and the search for his killer. And I think also a better way to approach him doing that would have been to try and reason with him that he has to be able to see an end to things that might not be him catching the killer, most people do because they aren't cops. But I can see how TK has already been here for a year and a half with Carlos. And he has been supportive, he only asked for therapy when it started affecting their marriage and even then he didn't ask Carlos to give up the case. So now he's the one in crisis (not the same of course) and he's looking for that support and its not there. Instead Carlos seems to be insisting TK live with him in that grief of Gabriel's death until he's ready to move on, the "and it always will be" line, and that's not fair either. Sadly crisis rarely line up so that one person has fully processed everything when the next one hits. And for TK's POV it looks like Carlos is willing to let his little brother, a living person, be shipped off to be raised an ocean away, in the name of Carlos getting closure on a dead person, the whole future versus the past thing. And I could see why this would set him off so strongly. I don't think he's ignoring this painful subject in Carlos's life, he hasn't for the past year and a half, but he is saying in this instance he has his own needs and he's putting them first. This is just me imagining TK's POV, I don't think that's what Carlos was saying really but maybe he didn't think what he said through to the end very well. Does that make sense??

Also I totally agree with you on the Wyatt and "doing right by Julio" nonsense. I really hate when this show goes all out on the copaganda to justify questionable behavior. And if it wasn't for the specific "make things right" line used I might be able to see what Carlos did in a more favorable light. But Wyatt didn't do anything wrong, he actually did a really amazing job under pressure, and he shouldn't be made to feel this is something he owes the cops, or Julio, or anyone. I do know the show tends to do this and its why I always have to brace for episodes like this. And yeah, killing a bunch of people shouldn't be viewed as "making things right", I don't care who they are.

Hi <3 This is gonna be an ESSAY. I apologize in advance. Whoever has time to read all this...wow 😂 First of all, I don't mind anyone writing me with an opinion as long as it isn't racist/queerphobic/etc. So all good. I think it's super fair to want to talk about an issue and I will reply whenever I have the bandwidth 💕 Also, as someone who's not a native English speaker, I will not try to nail you down on word choices. But I think if you meant it literally, coming to 'Tk's defense' at least with me isn't necessary at all. My criticisms toward him or Carlos are never an attack on them and having a different opinion or coming at something from another angle is just that. No defense necessary. If that makes sense??? I hope that doesn't come off as condescending I'm just hoping that the implication of people criticising or stating opinions is taken less and less as an attack in general. Because fandom often falls in such a binary. Good vs. Bad. And I don't prescribe to that in life or fiction. All of this to say, I think you make really valid points for why TK feels that way. I agree to certain extends. TK for sure has had to struggle with watching his husband be consumed with work and his father's death. And even if Gabriel had died of natural courses, it is TOUGH supporting a partner. It surely was tough for Carlos to support TK in season 3. And that is a struggle you are willing to take when you love someone but it takes a toll nonetheless. BUT: narratively, what Lone Star gave us was this: therapy - resolution through a compromise with the box - Carlos helping with the barn - gigantic birthday party Carlos seemed to have organized or at least was heavily involved in and present for and THEEEEN - TK not communicating well. In real life, issues like that are so messy and take forever to be resolved. Ngl, I've been hurt about some things a lot less severe for yearrrs. And I go to therapy too lol. But Lone Star's short season and pacing and cramming all of this in one now leads to this narrative to feel so jumbles because we as viewers can guess that the issue wasn't resolved for TK. How could it be?

But to give us two episodes of only seeing them happy and united again and then have TK not talk about adopting Jonah with Carlos first? THAT for me is the issue. Not TK being snappy and being upset when Carlos brings up Gabriel. Despite not seeing the on-screen struggle of it continue, that still made sense to me. I don't see that to be the reason why TK sprung the Jonah thing on Carlos like that. And he DID spring it on Carlos. That is human and again, don't mind him not finding the perfect words. But S4 established Carlos as someone who said he might not want kids. That's where we left things off. Jonah challenges that. That is super fair. I honestly have a case like that in my family I won't go into details for, but when I was 20, I was very briefly considering taking care of a toddler despite the circumstances being very very bad. It resolved in another way, but still, I have an idea what it's like to have family crisis and beign forced into making that tough decision. TK is so valid in wanting to take care of Jonah. And not thinking through logistics like Carlos would have. He is a very heart-first person. I was still surprised why they made the dialogue as it is because TK gives NO room for Carlos to weigh in. Yes, it could be clear to TK that he won't allow his brother to be raised by an institution and Carlos would likely agree. But to not even consider asking Carlos if he is okay with it? To take that agency from him? I don't think that's right and maybe we will disagree on that. It's a HUMAN BEING. And Jonah would deserve better than to have one of the men raising him not be in it 100%. That's the reason I don't want kids. I don't think it's fair t be wishy-washy about a child. "and he's looking for that support and its not there. Instead Carlos seems to be insisting TK live with him in that grief of Gabriel's death until he's ready to move on, the "and it always will be" line, and that's not fair either." -I don't think Carlos is insisting anything. I think the scene was too brief even to get into what Carlos wants more than it showed us what Carlos FEARS. He fears he wouldn't be able to raise a kid right now. And I think that has only partially to do with Gabriel's murder. Again, even in s4 he doesn't think he's ready. Give that man a minute to come to terms with maybe having to adopt, or lose TK. That's what it boils down to. Being in a crisis, dealing with trauma, and your life changing basically forever. You can logically support TK 100% but you can't deny how someone saying: "Hi babe we'll be dads now" isn't going to make you panic. Hell, someone dropping a dog in front of my door would make me panic. A full on child. AH. And TK didn't go about asking for support. He demanded it. He didn't allow another path. And Carlos in turn said: I don't know if I can cross that line for my own needs and sanity. Controversial opinion but even the best relationship would not make me cross certain boundaries and I don't think that should be the norm. TK said he accepted Carlos not wanting to be a father. The circumstances are so out of norm that he now brings it back up and has to be insistent. I just wish he would acknowledge that this is not something Carlos can do easily. I texted Mar that TK starting the dialogue off differently would have changed the entire thing for me. Like something similar to. ""I'm looking at adoption lawyers because Enzo wants to send him to a boarding school and I don't think I can watch that happen."" - Shows that TK is struggling with that himself at least. Still disregarding what Carlos would say but it leaves the door open just a little more to show a conflict and Carlos might have not felt as bulldozed. Others would surely write it even better. This is already so fucking long .... Feel like I would all get this out a lot better if I wrote a fic about it ngl. I'm so sorry if this is jumbled and messy. I promise you I take your words in good faith.

[hollowwrites]

I think you are a wonderful writer! You're slight dips into the spicy side of fics were a good showcase of what could come :)

So i know you just gave us the protective posse. And protective omi around others vying for her attention but what about both of our slytherin bois being protective. She got a lot of attention after fifth year, and being so close to those two. I feel like she's got her hands full.

I love you!! Feeling really crap about my writing as of late but little comments like this really help me! Thank you!! 💕

Medusa’s Vipers

I have the weirdest need for the boys to be protective lately. Send help. I would constantly put myself in danger if it meant these bois were there to help me.

I’m naming the Slytherin bully guy from beasts class Daniel because it makes writing easier and also everyone knew a Daniel who was a bit of a bully. Unless anyone knows his name in which case please tell me!

Also I’m including a made up spell. Don’t hate me!! It’s like Muffliato but for eyesight so Ocliato? I thought it was cute…

Warning - I mention some implied sexual assault. Nothing too graphic but just in case. I’ll section it off with ——————— mentions of blood too.

Word Count - 1689

~

“See you later boys” Eve chirped, her hand lingering on Ominis’ shoulder for just a second before waving to Sebastian. She skipped over to Poppy and Imelda who waited at the end of the Slytherin Table for her before they all left for their monthly ‘Girls Night’

“Tsk, she really does have you wrapped around her little finger doesn’t she?” The uppity Slytherin boy sneered. No one really knew what his problem was, but he seemed to pick fights with everyone who fell into his line of sight. Ominis sighed.

Wonderful

They ignored his taunts, well aware that if they bite, he’s won.

“Or is it the other way around? Is she wrapped around yours? Do you share her or-“

“Watch it, Daniel” Sebastian spat

“Don’t…he’s not worth it. Not worth anything from what I’ve heard. How’s your fathers business again?” Ominis said casually, leaning on his palm. The boy gulped. How does he know about that?

“She’s wasted on you, you know?” Daniel turned his nose up, firing towards the Blind Slytherin. “Someone so pretty shouldn’t be pining over someone who can’t even appreciate her beauty” Ominis’ jaw visibly tensed. He couldn’t hide that not being able to ever see her pained him.

“You know…” Daniel shuffled his chair along the floor sending ear piercing screeches as the legs scraped against stone “…she has this wonderful little trick she does with her mouth. Whenever she’s concentrating really hard…she’ll nibble along the end of her pencil…”

Ominis took in a deep calming breath…not that it did anything…

“…I bet you can hear it…” He whispered directly into Ominis’ ear. His fingers tightened around his wand under the table. Sebastian’s eyes flickered over the visage of his best friend. His usual calm and collected appearance cracked slightly, the narrowing of Ominis’ one eye the only indication he was about to snap.

“And I bet you’ve seen it, Sallow” Daniel continued on chipper as anything, as though he were discussing the latest quidditch happenings.

“Ignore him” Sebastian said, though was content to ignore his own advice. “He’s just bitter the only company he can seem to keep is Astoria…how is that Rancid Ravenclaw anyway?”

“Shut it, Sallow. If we’re talking bitter, then you’re it’s poster child. Don’t think I didn’t notice her sudden shift from you to Ominis” he leaned back in his chair folding his arms across his chest “What’s it like playing second fiddle to your blind best friend?”

“And I suppose you think you stand a chance with her?” Sebastian snorted “Please…that gippy Mooncalf Howin keeps has better odds”

“Well she does seem to be a bit of a slut for Slytherins…”

“What did you just say?” Sebastian rose from his chair looming over the now smug Slytherin.

“First you, then Ominis, now she’s off dallying with Reyes. Maybe I just remind her what house I’m in and she won’t be able to keep her hands off me.” Daniel also rose from his chair and before Sebastian took another step toward him, Ominis gripped his wrist yanking him back down.

Sebastian looked over at Ominis. He could tell for the twisted smile on his face that Ominis was gone…

“Ocliato”

Daniels smug features fell away as his eyes darted around desperately. He stumbled backwards and tripped over his chair landing in it with a started yelp.

“W-What did you do?”

“Oh me? I just thought I’d even the playing field” Ominis murmured, twisting the tip of his wand into his hand playfully “Why don’t you show me how it’s done then Daniel? Just try and talk to her and see what happens…Maybe I won’t stop with just taking your sight…”

~

“You should’ve let me hit him?” Sebastian sulked pacing in front of one of the large fireplaces in the Slytherin Common Room.

“What would’ve been the point?” Ominis retorted sitting back lazily against the large comfortable chairs. The incident with Daniel only happened that morning and yet Sebastian still harped on about what they could’ve done differently. “Pretty certain he gets off on it, the amount of beatings he’s taken”

“I can guarantee he wouldn’t have enjoyed it” Sebastian muttered darkly

“And I can guarantee he won’t enjoy being blind for a few days”

“Days?!” Sebastian halted his pacing to stare over at Ominis “Remember how you droned on at me about Dark Magic? That may not be considered ‘Dark Magic’ but that’s pretty cruel…”

“Oh how terrible for him to not be blessed with sight for a while” It was his turn to sulk now, folding his arms across his chest and moping against the backrest.

“I’m not saying I don’t approve” Sebastian smirked.

They’re ‘Daniel Debate’ was cut short by Evelyn hurriedly stomping down the spiral staircase and making a b-line for the girls dorms.

“Evelyn? Are you okay?” Ominis called, immediately recognising her footing and her familiar scent the moment she entered the room.

Her head snapped over to the pair and she sighed, veering off course towards Sebastian.

Oh…she’d heard about Daniel

Before Sebastian could get a proper reading on her expression she came crashing into his chest. What little he did see did not bode well.

Red eyes.

Blotchy skin.

And now she was against him he could feel her tiny sobs throughout her whole body. Her arms clung round his waist, fingers digging desperately into his back.

“What’s going on?” Ominis said flatly, suddenly appearing next her. His hand hovered protectively at her waist and Sebastian watched as she flinched away from it.

——————————————————————————

“What happened?” Sebastian pulled her from him, taking her ruddied face in his hands. She could see his eyes darting all over her, settling between her eyes. The movement made her feel dizzy, trying to keep up and make eye contact.

“I…” Evelyn started weakly.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard her cry…” Ominis said softly, almost to himself.

“…since Ranrok…everyone has been trying to thank me. People have bought me gifts and all sorts. Little tokens of appreciation.

“And he’d been so nice to me in the past. He’d bought me some flowers said they were from his parents for saving their son. And he offered to help me put my books back…

“Then he held my waist whilst I leant up to put a book away…and…he…touched…”

Her voice cracked as she stopped speaking, covering her face in what looked like…embarrassment?

No. That wouldn’t do.

The red bloom of her skin angered Sebastian more than he thought it would. He’d only ever known Evelyn as this strong, independent witch who’d surpassed him in every way in less than a year.

Now she was a shell. It almost felt…wrong.

——————————————————————————

“What happened?” Sebastian repeated with urgency.

“Forget that…Who was it?” Ominis growled

“Ravenclaw in our Herbology class…’S’ something…” she mumbled

“Samuel Graves…” Ominis said flatly

“On it…” Sebastian grunted and released Evelyn before making for the staircase.

“Where are you going? What are you doing?” Evelyn panted desperately her eyes wide with fear. She was perfectly aware of what Sebastian was capable of.

“I’m making a trip to Ravenclaw Tower. Amit owes me a favour”

“Ominis, stop him!” She turned to the blind Slytherin pleadingly. She was met with a simple shrug “Sebastian, don’t. I…I was being friendly he probably didn’t mean anything by it or-“

“No!” Sebastian snarled “Did he make you uncomfortable?”

Evelyn opened her mouth to protest but she choked on the ghost of a sob…and reluctantly nodded.

“That’s all I need to know”

~

When Sebastian returned to the Dungeons, it was well past curfew. Ominis and Evelyn sat in the stained glass alcoves waiting for him, Ominis calmly drinking tea whilst Evelyns own cup had gone cold on the floor by her feet.

“I may or may not need you to talk to Black” Sebastian said upon seeing the Blonde Slytherin nod in his direction

“What did you d-“ Evelyn scrambled to her feet before halting her approach.

Wand drawn and covered head to toe in blood. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen him like it…but it was the first time she knew it was a students blood on his robes.

“I’ll need to talk to Black anyway…he will not be staying in this school. I can assure you of that” Ominis said casually, his power and influence still coming as a shock to Evelyn.

“Sebastian…” she breathed “…what…did you do?”

He shrugged

“What I had to”

~

Roughly a week later, Daniel got his eye-sight back. He meekly made his way through the halls, trying to ignore the smirks and comments as he went.

“Oh Daniel there you are” Sebastian’s fingers wrapped around the nape of his neck. From the outside, the tone of his voice and his hand to his neck seemed…rather friendly. But the subtle way Sebastian dragged him backwards and flexed his fingers into his skin informed Daniel…this was anything but...

“Nice to see you again” Ominis’ haughty tone only adding to impending sense of danger.

“What do you two want? I haven’t gone anywhere near her” Daniel spat weakly

“Oh, we know” Sebastian grinned “Won’t you join us for a walk around the courtyard”

“I have Charms I need to-“

“It wasn’t a request I’m afraid” Ominis chirped smugly and Sebastian dragged him by the neck along with them, a wicked smile pulling at his lips.

Upon entering the courtyard, all three were greeted with the high pitched and desperate screams of the Ravenclaw, Samuel Graves. He kicked and screamed as several ministry officials physically dragged him away. He was putting up quite a fight, considering his face, arm and opposite hand were all bandaged up still.

“Such a shame…” Ominis spoke almost disinterestedly, as Sebastian pushed Daniel forward. “Turns out our good friend Samuel has been dabbling in the Dark Arts”

Sebastian chuckled darkly, arms folded and watching with glee as the Ravenclaw got bundled into the back of a carriage, heading straight for Azkaban.

“See Daniel…” Ominis leant down to whisper in his ear “…that could be you. Easily. So I suggest you continue to keep away from Eve”

Masterlist

[scekrex]

Can I request some hurt/comfort for the overlord!reader series, that angst hit me hard, mostly cause I kinda come to see it as a comfort story, like Wow

Reader said his piece and Adam heard him but there is now a tension between them, Adam is avoiding reader again, like in the beginning but it feels like this won't be fix with just time. Reader throw himself into work, trying to ignore the empty couch that is just in his line of vision but when he went to the balcony in a force of habit, the lack of fluttering gold feathers finally push him to action

Confronting Adam, he gave him 2 options, reader can move to another place so Adam can have the place to himself or he'll escorts him safely to the hotel so he can contact Heaven and go home. They both have a blowout fight that finally clean out the wound so it could heal.

Optional dialogue, "just say you're tired of my ass and kick me out", "I sneer down at them like I'm any difference, that I'm not a sinner, I'm greedy, I want, I wanted the riches I could gain from you then I wanted your trust and your love, and now I want you to be happy and like a drug addict willing to do anything for their next fix, I will do anything so you could be happy again"

Okay first of all I'd like to say that I LOVE the optional dialogue. I adore it, I ate it and I used it bc it fit them sooo well. Also I hope ya like them solving their problems somehow - in their own kinda way I guess

Bird of Hell's Paradise

Tell me who you wanna be and I will set you free

pairing: Adam x male!reader

warnings: language

note: not beta read bc fuck you

The time Adam had asked you to give him was the hardest time in all of your afterlife - not only for you but also for him. It was doing a number on the both of you and that showed. There were no sleepy cuddles, no lazy morning kisses and no cocky comments anymore.

The mansion felt empty and loveless, like a pit of depression that swallowed you both whole. The air once full of love, desire and trust had turned freezing cold and the only way you were able to ignore the hole in your chest where your heart used to be and the lack of a certain golden winged angel was for you to overwork yourself. You avoided the couch Adam had carried into the small room one day, it held too many memories.

Memories of you two cuddled up, memories of him carrying you over there to put you to bed because your stubborn self had been too proud and too determined to stop working by yourself so your little bird had to force you to get some sleep more than once. But throwing it out was not an option, not when you hoped that time would close the wounds and bring back the old times. So you remained in your office for most of the time, only left it when your body screamed at you to eat or when you had to use the bathroom - those were the only exceptions though.

And because you stayed in your office so much you were not seeing Adam at all. Sometimes you heard the rustling of his wings outside your door and though that happened rarely, whenever it did happen you felt the urge to get up, pull him into a warm hug and speak to him. But you never actually got up to do so. The angel had requested time and though it was painful to stay away from him for that long, you hoped respecting his boundaries would fix it all like a miracle.

But it did not. Adam never came in, when he heard you walking through the endless hallways, he would take a different turn and avoid you - he seemed neither willing nor ready to face you and the consequences this might bring so he stayed away.

Your head fell onto the table and you sighed, this would not do. You hoped the fresh air of your garden would lift the fog that was covering your mind and therefore your thoughts so you pushed yourself up, headed over to open the balcony doors and watched the green that lay beneath you. The synthetic sun gave no reflection of golden feathers away. Golden feathers which would usually peek out from behind trees or bushes. Golden feathers which would lay on the grass with its owner attached to it if it would have been a normal day. But it wasn’t and Adam’s wings were not visible - a thing you had hoped to see.

Time would not bring your angel back, time would not fix this conflict - not when the conflict seemed to eat Adam alive. So you pushed your body away from the railing and crossed your office to go seek your precious bird. Maybe talking to him would bring closure. Just as you opened the door to your office to seek for your golden feathered bird, said bird popped up in your door frame. He had not expected you to open the door, his eyes gave the surprise he felt away the second he spotted you. His reaction time was quick though, within a blink he tried to get away, tried to rush to the other end of the hallway, but you were quicker. Your hand grabbed his wrist, silently holding him into place and this time he did not flinch at your attempt to touch him. Though he did try to wiggle his wrist out of your grip to get away eventually.

“Adam,” oh how badly you wanted to call him all the sickening sweet pet names, how your mind told you to call him ‘dear’ or ‘my love’, but none of those were appropriate, not when Adam was mad. Or well rather hurt than actually mad - either way the former exorcist was upset with you and while you still weren’t blaming him for his reaction, you desperately wanted to sort things out. You had been avoiding each other for too long and you felt your mental stability crumbling slowly. Decisions needed to be made and if that meant you and Adam would part ways, then so be it.

“We should have a conversation,” your voice was soft, held neither anger nor disapproval, it sounded rather desperate if you were honest with yourself - and you were. You were desperate for clarity, desperate for this fight to finally end. “About what?” the brunette spat, clearly not liking the idea of talking to you at all, let alone about the fight and a solution for the situation you both were stuck in. You let go of his wrist and despite his body language saying that he would rather avoid you than talk to you he stayed. He stayed and waited for you to answer his question.

You considered your response for a moment, then answered, “About us.” And given the shock reflecting in his gorgeous golden eyes, Adam seemed not too fond of that answer, in fact he seemed to fear it. Something inside of him seemed to click into place and his mood shifted, instead of hurt and betrayed, he seemed now actually angry with you. His voice raised as he yelled, “Just fucking say you’re tired of my ass and kick me out already.” His words caused confusion to bloom inside of you and you frowned at the other male. Why would you kick him out? What made him think you would throw him to the flames willingly, knowing that the people of hell would tear him to pieces the second he would leave your place without you?

“I won’t kick you out, my love,” the pet name slipped - it was a force of habit. That, or you just longed for a time that was already gone, a time you had ruined by your own greed. “But I don’t want to fight with you either,” and for a moment your words seemed to calm his energy, for a moment you were able to see his eyes clearing up from the hate and the disgust he must be feeling towards you. But then his voice sounded so heavy when he spoke, too heavy for you to swallow, “Oh I forgot, some bitch will probably fucking pick me up right after signing that fucked up contract, right?” No. No, there would be no one coming to pick him up, not as long as you remained and considering that the only way to change that was angelic steel, you were quite confident to roam Hell’s rings for a couple million years more.

“I want you to choose, to prove that though I was greedy for money at first, I refuse to give you up, so instead of t deciding myself, I want you to have the choice of where this will go and what the outcome will be,” and those words actually seemed to make the brunette realize that you were being serious, that you were interested in what the former exorcist had to say. So Adam nodded, giving you the non verbal okay to continue speaking. “You have two options, de- Adam,” the fact that you interrupted yourself to call him by his name instead of the pet name that had almost slipped from your lips a second time caused the first man’s expression to sour, though he did not comment on it.

“I offer you to stay at this place here by yourself, I will move out and seek something new,” you watched his reaction carefully as you spoke and the offer you made him seemed to sound even worse to his ears than the fact that you had called him Adam instead of dear. Yet he continued to remain silent, he seemed really willing to hear you out - a thing that, though you appreciated it, also made you feel uneasy. Adam was no one to remain silent for that long. “Either that, or I will escort you to the hotel safely so that Charlie can try and-” “Fuck you, I’m not staying at the fucking place I almost died at,” the brunette growled, interrupting you quickly. You nodded, a point that was very valid in your eyes and because the choice was all Adam’s, his decision would force you to leave this place. The only thing holding you had been the first man and now that he didn’t want you anymore, there was nothing left that prevented you from leaving.

“I’ll have my things packed as quickly as possible,” you were about to turn around to enter your office again and start packing, Adam grabbed your upper arm firmly before you had the slightest chance to get away from him. “I don’t want you to fucking leave, you stupid fuckhead,” he hissed. His usually bright eyes seemed so much darker though they were glossy. Tears were about to be shed - a thing you had tried so hard to avoid. “I- fuck I don’t even fucking know what I want, “ the brunette mumbled as his eyes darted to the floor, inspecting it like it was so much more interesting than you.

Gently you put your hand on top of the one from Adam that was holding your upper arm, you gave it a single pat but that earned you his attention. “I sneer down at them all like I’m any different, like I’m not just as bad as them, like I’m not a sinner,” you started to explain yourself - would it help? You were not able to tell, but you hoped it would. “I’m greedy, Adam, I want. I want many things,” you gently removed his hand from your arm and took it in both of yours, squeezing it gently. His eyes looked down at it, carefully watching you holding his hand, he seemed not against it so you did not remove your hands from his.

“I wanted the riches I could gain from you before we knew about each other, then I wanted your trust and your love and now, in the end, I simply want my beautiful songbird to be happy,” his eyes met yours at your words and something inside of him seemed to crumble - it was the wall he had built up again to shield himself from the pain you had inflicted on him by breaking his trust. “And like a drug addict willing to do anything for their next fix, I will do anything so you can be happy again, even if that means that you will be happy without me by your side.”

Adam reacted differently than you had thought he would, instead of yelling at you and shoving you away, he pulled you in. The first man pulled you into a tight hug and before you knew it, it was not only his arms that were wrapped around your body but also his soft, golden wings. “Shut the fuck up,” the former exorcist mumbled as he buried his face in your hair. You felt how his body relaxed, how the heavy stones this fight had forced him to carry fell from his shoulders. You heard him inhaling your scent deeply, as if it would get him high, as if it would be the solution to all his problems. “We both fucking know I’d die without you,” his voice was nothing more than a whisper, almost as if he was afraid it would change the meaning of his words if he dared to speak louder.

“Not because the fuck-ups of Hell would tear me the fuck apart over and over again, but because my soul would start to fucking rot without its motherfucking sunlight. And that’s you, bitch. You’re my soul’s sunlight.”

[marriedzukka]

can i interest anyone in a retgmt16 snippet on this fine evening

Zuko gently rubs Sokka’s left calf where it’s draped over his lap, watching curiously as Sokka untangles the wires of a TENS unit. It’s kind of a bitch to set up with all of its wires and electrode patches and buttons, but he’s become fond of it lately in lieu of his heating pad during the hotter summer months. Then again, because he’s Sokka, he loves any excuse to play with a gadget of some kind, even if it’s at his own expense. The TENS doesn’t have a stupid nickname yet, but Zuko figures it’s only a matter of time. 

Sokka scrunches forward to unwrap his knee, methodically placing the sticky sides of the TENS patches around it instead. Easy as anything, he catches Zuko studying him, and a smile pulls at his lips. “Looks weird, I know.” 

Zuko’s thumb moves softly over the faded surgery scar just below his knee. “But it helps?”

His eyes soften as he places another patch. “Yeah, Sunshine. It helps. Usually.”

“Can I do the next one?”

"I got it," he shrugs, slowly peeling a bit of plastic film off of the last patch. “It’s not rocket science.” 

“So even I can do it, then.” 

There. Zuko likes it when something he says makes Sokka smile. He should do that more often.  

“Fine." Sokka places the last patch in his outstretched hand and lies back against the couch. “Don’t fuck it up.” 

“Or what?”

“Or it won’t help.” 

The patch is weird and sticky, suddenly awkward to hold as he hovers it over Sokka’s knee and tries to find the right spot. There are wires everywhere, more patches and scars and knobby knees. It may not be rocket science but there’s definitely a method to this madness, and Zuko suddenly realizes that he doesn’t actually know how to interpret it at all. The last thing he wants to do is be the reason it doesn’t work, or cause Sokka any more pain than he’s already in. Maybe this was a bad idea. 

“Where the fuck am I supposed to put it?”

Like the sun on the side of his face, Sokka's eyes are on him, watching this all go down with unbridled fondness. 

“What?!” Zuko snaps.

“Nothing. Just love you.” 

His smile is utterly disarming. Zuko can feel the blush creeping up his neck. “Love you too.” 

“You’re so cute.”

“Shut up and tell me where to put this.” 

“Can’t do both at the same time.” 

“Sokka.” 

He laughs and leans forward, using his finger to draw invisible lines from one patch to another in an X shape over his knee. “See here? The channels are crossed like this, so it covers more surface area. So that patch needs to go opposite this one. There’s other ways to do it, and it could change depending on what part of the body you’re trying to work with, but that’s basically it.”

Zuko follows his direction, carefully placing the last patch in its designated spot and gently smoothing it down. “Now what?”

“The fun part.” Sokka lies back again, grabbing the handheld machine on the other end of the wires and fiddling with the dials. “I usually start at level two, and work my way up to a five or six if it’s really bad. Can’t go much higher than that though or it might make it worse.”

Zuko listens intently, making several mental notes. Something fierce and protective washes over him; so often, he feels helpless when it comes to easing his partner’s pain, but he’ll do whatever he can, whenever Sokka will let him. And sure, Sokka could do stuff like this himself if he really wanted to, but he doesn't have to. Not anymore. They're in this together now.

“How bad is it?” 

Sokka hums, considering. “I'm only on level three. At least for now.” 

It’s a small relief. He rarely goes a day without pain anymore, or maybe more accurately, he’s been more honest about how often it’s bothering him. To think that there were probably countless times when he was hurting and said nothing makes Zuko’s stomach twist with guilt. All that pain and still, Sokka kept showing up for them. 

He doesn’t see how amazing he is, but Zuko does, every day. It’s hard to ignore something that bright.