#And when that didn't happen it left a bitterness in him that he carried the rest of his life

[mermaidslabyrinth]

My OC Rhagerys Targaryen with the two people who he would do anything and everything for.

His younger half sisters, Baela and Rhaena. They mean the world to him. They are his weakness but also his strength to keep going. He is their big brother and has been taught to protect them at all costs.

The way I see the three are as the sun, moon, and stars. Rhaena is the Sun. Along with her dragon Morning. Baela is the Moon. Along with her dragon Moondancer. Rhagerys is the Stars. Along with his dragon Starsong. Each are present in one another's lives but in such different ways that people forget that they're connected to one another. That in some way they always will be.

This gorgeous artwork was done by the wonderfully talented @lonelymagpies. They did such marvelous job. The hair, the clothing, the jewels, their looks.

Also a special thank you to @dr-aegon. They reblogged a post mentioning that lonelymagpies was doing commissions. So, thanks to them, I was able to have this artwork created.

[dear-satan]

Falling Without a Sound

player 230/Thanos x Reader

★ word count: 871

★ CW: no squid game events, fem!reader, mention of suicide, death, drugs and debts

★ Summary: the salesman didn't show up and Thanos jumped off a bridge

★ author's note: the story contains the theme of suicide, it does not urge ANYONE to do something similar!! if you are struggling, similar thinking please contact your family or loved ones. remember - you are a wonderful person and you are NEVER alone <3

The world had a habit of taking things from you without warning. You didn’t expect him to come back. Not like this. Not this way.

Outside the window, the city pulsed with its own rhythm—neon lights flickering, footsteps echoing, voices rising and falling, none of them belonging to you. Somewhere in that noise, someone laughed the way he used to. Someone sang his song, completely unaware that its author was now lying several floors above the ground, bound to white sheets and his own shadow.

And you were here. You slipped through the crowd like a ghost no one could see—though everyone wanted to.

The elevator carried you to the second floor, every second stretching into eternity. Sterile walls, the scent of disinfectants, and a silence worse than screams.

You stopped in front of door number 230. You couldn’t breathe.

Your hand hovered over the handle, and in your mind, the memories returned: his laughter when he first heard his song on the radio. The excitement in his eyes as he counted the growing views on streaming platforms. The fire in his heart that fueled his dreams. And then…

A phone call at 2 a.m.

Passersby who saw his silhouette on the bridge railing.

Cold water swallowing him before anyone could react.

He was lucky.. Or maybe he wasn’t.

You clenched your teeth and stepped inside. A hospital bed by the window. A heart monitor beeping in a steady, rhythmic beep, beep, beep. An IV drip, its clear liquid falling slowly, like time being measured drop by drop.

And him - he was a shadow of himself.

Purple hair, still damp, staining the pillow. A pale face, dark circles under hollow eyes, skin stretched over sharp bones. The blanket was too big, or maybe he had become too small. His hands lay still at his sides, but you saw them—the needle marks, the scabs, the veins pierced too many times.

You were afraid to touch him. Afraid he might break.

“Su-bong?” you whispered, as if his name could bring him back to life.

His jaw tightened. He held his breath.

But he didn’t look at you.

You pulled a chair closer, sitting beside him. “Look at me.”

Silence.

A shiver ran down your spine as you saw his hands clench the sheets.

“Su-bong.”

Slowly, as if forcing himself into each movement, he turned his head.

And that’s when you saw it - his eyes were empty. There was no light in them, not even sadness.. Just exhaustion.

“Hey.” his voice was hoarse, quiet, breaking at the edges.

Tears welled up in your eyes. “That’s all you have to say to me? Just ‘hey’?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, his gaze wandered over the walls, as if trying to find in them the answers to questions you hadn’t yet asked.

“I want to understand.” Your fingers curled into the fabric of your pants. “I want to understand why this happened. Why…” You couldn’t finish.

But he did it for you. “Why I jumped?”

Silence

“It’s simple.” He gave a bitter smile, but it was broken. “I had nothing left to lose.”

Your heart clenched in your chest. “Don’t say that.”

“Why not? It’s the truth.”

His eyes locked onto yours, and for the first time, you saw something more than exhaustion.

Pain. Collapse. Loss.

“You have no idea what it’s like.” His voice shook. “To wake up in the morning and know you’re worth less than nothing. That your bank account is empty, and the only time your phone rings is when someone wants money you don’t have.”

You swallowed hard. “Su-bong…”

“My contract was terminated.” His fingers gripped the sheets. “ ‘You’ve spent too long in the dark, Mr. Thanos. It’s time for someone new.’ ” a hollow laugh. “Do you know how much my debt was? 1.19 billion.” something inside you froze “I owed them more than my life was worth.” he exhaled, a sound filled with quiet defeat. “So I figured the simplest solution was… to stop existing.”

Your hands clenched into fists. “You had no right-”

“I had no choice.” his eyes - those dull, empty eyes - finally filled with tears. “I was a burden. To the company. To my family. To the world.”

“Not to me.” he blinked, as if your words were the last thing he expected to hear.

You didn’t let him look away. Your hand reached for his cheek, warm skin meeting his cold one. “I won’t let you go.”

His fingers trembled, then tears—silent, uncontrollable—began falling, one after another, like raindrops against glass.

“I don’t know how…” His voice cracked. “I don’t know how to-”

“You don’t have to know.” you ran your fingers through his hair, gently, as if he were made of porcelain. “Just let me be here.”

For a moment, he hesitated in silence.

Then his fingers, the same ones that had clung so tightly to nothingness, tightened around your hand.

Not hard, but enough.

Enough to know that you hadn’t lost him yet. Enough to know he was still here. Enough to know he still wanted to stay.

And that was enough.

This time, even if everything else crumbled, you wouldn’t let him disappear.

You wouldn’t let him fall.

[omgeto]

☆ GHOSTING — GETO SUGURU X READER

summary: after being made aware of your long term ex boyfriends plans to 'fix' the world, you knew that you had to try and stop him. but seeing him for the first time in a decade; all the love, the hate, the heartbreak comes right back to you both and you realise you care about him a lot more than you thought.

wc: 4.7k (of pure goodness....)

cw: afab!reader, mdni, angst to fluff (kinda) cult leader ex boyfriend!geto, kinda sorta canon (its the day that geto yk...) he eats you out like its his last meal, half hate fucking, full making love, and a whole lot of geto being culty and cunty. this one has a plot people!!

authors note: guys yk I love a good exes to lovers fic so the argument in this one hits different and the whole idea of you and suguru breaking up just before he runs off to run his cult really gets to me, so I hope you enjoy this one.

geto suguru hasn’t seen you in years, in almost a decade, and is still reeling harshly from how you left him when he needed you. but somehow he finds himself rushing to meet you when he gets the four word text from your number—which is still saved in his phone under ‘my girl’— saying, ‘we need to talk.’

he knows exactly what you want to speak about, he could easily put together why today of all days you’d want to see —after vanishing him for just over a decade. he figured gojo probably gave word to you, as from when you’ve been young and growing up together, you’ve all known that if gojo couldn’t get through to him, you could.

he opens the door to your apartment, knowing that you wouldn’t have locked it—you always had a habit of leaving it open for him. and there you are, standing in the dimly lit room, waiting for his arrival. the years have etched subtle changes onto your face and in your demeanour, but the essence of who you are remains unchanged. time may have separated you, but in this moment, it feels as though it has never passed.

“you can't do this,” is the first thing you say, your voice steady despite the unexpected surge of emotions upon seeing him again. you didn't think seeing him after all this time would affect you, but it did. his hair is longer, his frame more imposing, but that unmistakable smirk remains, a haunting reminder of the man you once knew.

“wow right to the chase,” he chuckles bitterly, his presence taking up the room as he enters the room further, “i forgot you never really had a thing for beating around the bush.”

you meet his bitter chuckle with a steady gaze, your resolve unwavering. the years of separation have done nothing to diminish the intensity of your connection, the push and pull between you two.

"it's not the time for games, suguru," you reply, your tone serious. "you know why i called you here."

he sighs, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly. the weight of his plans, the burden he carries, is evident in the lines etched on his face. "i figured you'd call sooner or later."

the room seems to shrink as the gravity of the situation hangs between you. the man you once knew, the one who could make your heart race with a smile, now stands before you, shrouded in darkness.

"i won't let you go through with this," you say firmly, your eyes never leaving his. "there's another way, suguru. there has to be."

for a moment, his façade cracks, and you catch a glimpse of the person he used to be, the one who believed in a better world. but then the hardness returns to his eyes, and he steps closer, his presence overwhelming.

"you always were too idealistic," he mutters, almost to himself. "but i can't turn back now. the world needs this change."

"what happened to you?" you snap out, your words laced with a bitter edge that hangs heavily in the air. it's a question that carries the weight of your years of frustration, anger, and confusion. but you knew what happened to him; everyone knew.

his reaction is immediate, and the room seems to tremble with his anger. his gaze narrows, and the atmosphere becomes charged with tension. "you don't get to ask that," he spits out, his voice dripping with bitterness. "you left, remember? you abandoned me when i needed you the most."

“it wasn’t like that,” you argue, leaning forward, your body tense. “by the time i left you were already gone, being physically present in a relationship doesn’t mean anything if your mind is fucking checked out all the time. at that point i was just dating a shell of you.” 

“is that how you justify it?" he retorts, his anger unabated. "you think leaving was the solution?”

you clench your fists, your own anger rising to meet his. "i did what i had to do to protect myself, suguru. you were spiralling, consumed by your own darkness. I couldn't save you"

his eyes blaze with a mixture of fury and hurt. "you think i needed saving?

“you still need saving,” you scoff gesturing to him standing right in front of you, “just because you couldn’t save—”

“don’t even go there,” he interrupts, his hand raising to stop you. he knew you were talking about riko, “i’ve made peace with that.”

“oh have you?” you accuse, “since it seems to me, you’ve been on a killing spree, ever since.”

“other people died y’know,” he hisses out, “remember haibara? he was your fucking friend, but you weren’t even there.”

“this isn’t about me,” you say disregarding his comment, regret seeping through you, “you think i haven’t kept tabs on you since i’ve been away. who have you become?”

he glares at you, his anger evident. "i've become what the world needs," he snaps, his voice heavy. "someone willing to do what it takes to change things."

"and is killing a village full of people the way to do that?" you challenge, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and sorrow. "killing your..." You pause, overwhelmed by the thoughts and images of what he's done. "was killing your parents worth it?"

his expression hardens, and for a moment, you see a glimmer of regret in his eyes, but it's quickly masked by his resolve. "i had to make sacrifices," he says coldly. "it's a small price to pay for a greater cause."

“you can’t truly think that,” you say, taking a step closer to him, your fists still clenched at your sides. “how did it feel killing them then? to take away the lives of your own parents who were innocent?” you probe, you knew that there was some part of him that must feel bad.”

“you’re about… ten years too late to be trying to have this conversation with me,” he shrugs, the turmoil that geto felt when he first set out on his mission has ceased. the guilt he felt for killing his parents, even the grief he had for something that he caused, wasn’t a factor for him anymore.

your frustration boils over as you press him further. "so, you've become heartless, then?" you challenge. the room seems to tighten around you as you await his response. "a cold-blooded killer who's convinced himself that the ends justify the means?"

geto's gaze narrows, his patience dwindling. "it's not about being heartless. it's about doing what's necessary to achieve our goals."

"your goals," you emphasise, "not mine. and not the goals of the innocent people you've hurt along the way."

he sighs, exasperation creeping into his voice. "you always had a way of making everything so complicated, questioning every choice. you left because you couldn't handle the real world."

you shake your head, unwilling to accept his justifications. "no, i left because i couldn't stand by and watch you become a monster."

“so i’m just a monster, yeah?” he retorts, stepping towards you, his anger evident across his face, you could see your words triggered him, and as he gets closer you could feel your facade faltering. 

your heart races as he approaches, and you raise a hand instinctively, palm out, to signal him to stop. "don't come any closer," you warn, your voice trembling with a mixture of fear and anger. there was no rational reason to be scared of him, you’ve known him for years, and despite everything that he’s done —what he’s become— there was still a part of you that believed that he wouldn’t hurt you.

but geto ignores your plea, his determination unwavering. he grabs your hand firmly, his grip surprisingly gentle despite the intensity of the moment. his dark eyes bore into yours, and he speaks in a low, taunting tone, "why? are you scared that with me being this close, you're going to realise that you loved a monster? that you're still in love with him?"

you grit your teeth, refusing to let him get under your skin. "suguru, you don't get to manipulate me with your twisted version of love," you retort, your voice laced with defiance. "i won't let you use my feelings against me.

his words hit you like a punch to the gut, and you're torn between the conflicting emotions swirling inside you. the memories of the love you once shared, the pain of his transformation into something unrecognisable, and the lingering attraction between you all crash together in this charged moment.

you try to pull your hand away, to regain control of the situation, but geto's grip tightens, preventing your escape. his face inches closer to yours, and despite your better judgement, your breath hitches. “manipulation, huh?” geto muses, his mouth so close to yours that you feel his breath faintly brush across your lips. you look up at him through your lowered eyelashes, and in that fleeting pause, so small that it’s almost imperceptible, you find yourself considering the gravity of your actions, if only for a moment.

the feeling of doubt is short lived, as you press your lips against geto’s, his mouth immediately moulding into yours. the kiss is searing, as you push your bodies against each other, he releases your hand from his grip, his hands move to cradle your head, holding it in place as he deepens the kiss, bruising your lips with his.

everything about geto is familiar, the taste of him, the warmth of his mouth, the way he consumes you. his tongue explores yours, wrestling for control as your arms scratch at him trying to tug off his robe. you wanted him to feel you, all of you—your touch, your lips, your hurt, your anger, the love that you still have that you thought was small. but after seeing him, kissing him, you realise is still an overwhelmingly large part of you.

you pull apart to catch your breath, staring hard at each other, but there’s barely a moment wasted before your back on eachother. kissing each other feverishly, as you rip off each other's clothes, he pushes you hard, your back slamming against the nearest piece of furniture as his mouth latches onto your neck. his kisses cascade down your body, stopping at your breasts as he unhooks your bra, tossing it aside.

“i missed these,” he murmurs, as his lips descend onto your tits, his face nuzzling at your chest as he sucks and pulls at your nipples with his teeth. “and i missed this,” he continues to mumble, his hands cupping your clothed pussy, his finger lightly caressing your slit. 

you arch forward into his touch, wanting to feel him more and chuckles saying, “even after all these years, you still respond to my touch just the same.” his fingers plunge into your panties, brushing against your clit and he smirks as your lips part a stifled moan escaping your lips—proving his point.

“s-shut up,” you hiss out, as you slowly start to gyrate against his fingers. although it was obvious from the way you were already soaking your underwear, you didn’t want to admit how good he is actually making you feel—you just couldn’t give him the satisfaction. geto raises his eyebrows at you in amusement, as he watches you bite your lip trying to contain your moans, as his fingers inch into your inviting pussy.

geto’s body moves down yours as he removes his lips from your tits, continues to press kisses down your stomach, as he drops down to his knees —his eyes level with your cunt. he presses a kiss to your covered pussy, before sliding off your panties. his mouth is just about to latch onto you but he pauses looking up at you, his gaze unwavering, “you want this right?” you nod slowly, your anticipation brewing as your eyes lock onto his, “use your words.”

you release an exasperated huff, but he remains steadfast, his raised eyebrow a silent declaration that he won't act until you tell him what he wants to hear. the room seems to pulse with tension, the growing desire between you mounting with each heartbeat.

your hands slide it’s way into his hair, pushing your fingers through his scalp, as you grin, you voice is low and sultry as you say, “i want it.” his mouth envelopes your pussy and you push his head into you deeper, forcing your nose into your arousal. he inhales you, taking in your scent as he presses his face in your cunt. 

“such a pretty pussy,” he mutters lowly, you could feel the vibrations spread through your pussy. his tongue strokes down your slit, before pushing into you, he twists and slurps at you trying to suck out all of your juices. 

geto nibbles at your clit, tugging at it with his teeth before bringing his fingers back to cunt. shoving two fingers in roughly. you pull his hair harshly, the feeling of his mouth sucking on your clit leaving your mind blank. “ah f-fuck,” you cry out, as geto’s strokes grow more intense.

“c’mon let me hear you more,” geto prompts, pulling away slightly from your pussy, his lips plump and coated from your wetness. he grabs one of your legs and hikes it over his shoulder, the angle allowing him to force his fingers into you further, curling them up in your pussy as he goes back to shoving his face in your sobbing cunt.

you grind your pussy in his face, working with him in getting you off. both of your movements were frantic, geto is eating your pussy with such eagerness, hungrily trying to drink all of your cum. “i’m close s-sugu i’m—” you choke out, feeling yourself slipping down the wall you pressed against, but geto holds you upright, his large hand keeping your thigh hooked over his shoulder and roughly pushing you up against the wall.

geto grins against your cunt, your moans and cries is a sound he didn’t realise how much he missed until he heard them now. you laboured breathing, stammered sentences told him that you were reading cum, but he just had to push you further. so he adds one more finger, sending it straight to your spot, twisting and pushing it in your pussy so hard that tears brim your eyes. he was so relentless, you always loved that about him, how he knows your body in and out, he knew exactly where to touch, and just how far he should push to have you becoming a mess for him.

you couldn’t take him anymore, so you cum, hard. your pussy releasing ropes and ropes of cum, all over geto’s fingers and his face, and he laps at it, munching all your cum with excitement. “i know you can give me more than that,” he muses, pressing his thumb down on your clit, rubbing at it aggressively as you cum. your eyes roll back, as he repeatedly flicks at your cum, and before you know it, you're squirting all over his face.

geto’s eyes widen, and he doesn’t stop playing with your pussy, until you bow your head in submission, worn out from all the cum you’ve released over him. your hands slide out of his hair, as you try and catch your breath and geto peppers your cunt and your thighs with kisses finally letting your thigh come off his shoulders. “damn your pussy’s still as sweet as ever.”

“stop with the talking,” you mumble, as you pull him up to his feet, your lips forcing their way back onto him. your hands frantically explore each other's bodies as you drag him to your bedroom, pushing him on your bed. “i can’t fucking stand you,” you mutter to yourself, your denial evident, as you straddle him, pulling his dick out of his boxers.

you pause briefly at the sight, his thick, long dick staring at you. you hear geto chuckle at your reaction, your eyes meet his with a challenging look exchanged between you, he raises his eyebrow at you, a silent dare on whether you’ll actually be able to get the control that you’re aiming to have. 

you hover over his dick, your pussy still dripping, geto bites his lip in anticipation as you tease him, slowly edging yourself down onto him. your pussy greedily, takes in his dick as you force yourself down on him as immediately fills you, stretching out your cunt with one push. you start to ride him, hard and fast, rocking your body forward as you bounce up and down on him, your hand pressing down on his stomach to keep you steady.

geto sits up, stifling a moan as he feels your cunt clench around his dick with everyone of your movements. he tries to thrust up into you, but he just can’t match the relentless rhythm you had, “f-fuck,” he exhales, a moan escaping his mouth, and you smirk —you have him just where you wanted him.

“you alright there suguru?” you mock, the grin spread across your face unmissable as you grind yourself down against him, tightening your pussy around his pole as you slid up and down. the bite on his lip hardens as he pulls it further between his teeth to suppress another moan.

but geto doesn’t submit for long, his hand slaps you across your tits and his fingers pinch your nipples, twisting and tugging them, causing you to arch your back as you wail. “d’you r-really think you run shit here?” he groans, flicking at your nipples with every word, “you’ll never be in control, not with me,” he taunts.

“oh really?” you retort, as you still continue to move your ass, meeting his hips. you can feel him start to pick up his pace, trying to match yours, his hips slightly thrusting upwards, his dick pushing into you deeper.

“yeah,” he says confidently through gritted teeth, one of his hands pulling away from your nipples and onto your ass, harshly grabbing one of your cheeks to steady himself as he drills into you further, “because you’re still my girl.” 

you still at his words, you knew he didn’t mean it but you couldn’t help but react to the name that he always used to refer to you as. geto could see your eyes become vacant, as you think back to the memories when you were truly his girl. you used to revel in that —the feeling of being his. he takes advantage of your pause, your rhythm halted as he takes over, now setting the pace as he charges his dick into you, stuffing you further. 

“suguru f-fuck you’re so—” you sob out, as he breaks down your wall, his strokes hitting your spot perfectly. your body buckles, crumbling at the force that geto was using as he repeatedly thrusts into you, his hand pushing you in further so his dick can get an even better angle in you.

“i’m so what?” he retorts, knowing you wouldn’t be able to string an answer together from the way he is fucking you dumb. geto couldn’t deny that he is getting some joy out seeing you all drunk on his dick, reduced to nothing but moans and incoherent sentences, he liked being the one to break you down. “am i still a monster, someone you can’t stand being around?”

you sloppily nod your head, trying to keep some resolve, but your efforts are pointless since all the insults and accusations you were spouting earlier are now futile, you lost your care in getting him to do the right thing, all you want now is for him to stay like this — inside of you. 

“s-shit i can’t take it a-anymore im gonna cu—” you force out, clenching yourself around little his dick hard as you feel your orgasm building up. but geto’s movements stop for a second as he pulls his dick out of you, flipping you over, your back landing hard on your bed. he leans over you, his focus fixed on you, but at this point, his eyes don’t hold the same heartache, and hurt that they did when he first stepped into your house. the geto that is looking at you now, is the one who’d always look at you everyday, ten years ago —with love and longing.

he strokes his dick down your aching pussy, teasing you with it, but just before he puts it in, his hand caresses your face cupping your chin as he says, “when i said you were still my girl, i meant it y’know?” and your lips part in surprise at his admission. “although it hurt me, when you left me, you just never stopped being my girl.”

“suguru i-i don’t know what to say,” you stammer, and you didn’t realise until he swipes under your eye, that you were crying. there was so much more to your relationship with geto than just some highschool romance, you loved another, and no one could tell you otherwise. 

“tell me that you are,” he prompts, now pressing kisses to your tear stained face, his lips moving down to yours, “tell me that you are still my girl,” he finishes in between kisses. his hopeful eyes still remain on yours, and you could feel him slowly inching his dick into you.

you wrap your legs around his back, your arms hooking around his neck as you pull his head next to yours, your mouth near his ear as you whisper, “i am still yours.” he pushes his dick back into you, his strokes deep and slow. it was different from before, there was no competition or hate between you as you fucked, you didn’t have a point to prove other than the fact that you still loved each other. 

geto’s moans are loud, he has nothing to hold back as he growls lowly in your ear. the way he holds you, and takes his time kisses you and fucking you as if he was accounting for this potentially being his last ever time doing so. “i’ll never get enough of this.”

“then don’t go,” you whine, and your words hold a deeper meaning that you both knew but won’t acknowledge knowing it is pointless to discuss any further. you pull him into you deeper, your thighs clenching around him as your hold tightens. 

the feeling of you pulling him in, has him clenching his eyes as your pussy takes him in, his mouth takes yours in a powerful kiss, before he mumbles “you gonna let me cum in you, leave you with every last bit of me.” you don’t even respond, just deepening the kiss, your head shaking in agreement.

you both cum together, geto spraying your walls as he sinks his face into the crook of your neck, sinking his teeth into your exposed flesh as he continues to shoot ropes of cum inside of you. you claw at his back as you feel all of him enter you, your cum mixing with his as you cry out in full pleasure.

his forehead rests against yours, as the last bits of his cum enter you and neither of you say anything, all that can be heard is just heavy breaths coming from the both of you. you didn’t know what was to happen now, there was still so much left unsaid, unresolved and things have changed now that geto is literally stuffed inside of you.

geto is about to pull out of you finally, but you stop him muttering a faint, “stay,” and he does. he knows he had somewhere to be, things to do that are bigger than the both of you, but he just couldn’t leave when you ask him to stay. he manoeuvres your body so that you now lay atop him, comfortably cockwarming him as he thumb brushes gentle strokes down your arm.

“y’know i’ve got these two girls, who i think would love you,” he muses.

“what? did you manage to become a father whilst i was away?” you tease.

“something like that, yeah,” he mumbles, a small smile forming on his face as thoughts of nanako and mimiko flash through his mind — they’re a bittersweet reminder of the new life he’s built without you, one that you wouldn’t be able to fit in. it wasn’t that long ago that you’d have thoughts about geto fathering your own kids, dreams of somewhat of a domestic life that you’d now never get to have with him.

“well maybe i can meet them,” you say non-committedly.

“yeah maybe…” his voice falters, as you both know that it would never happen.

“do you enjoy it then?” you ask, “this ‘new’ life of yours.” you could tell just by the brief mention of nanako and mimiko and the way he carries himself that he does enjoy his life, but you were hoping that he’d still answer no.

geto hesitates for a moment, his gaze drifting to the ceiling as he contemplates your question, “i…” he begins, his gaze returning to yours, “i won’t lie. it’s different, and there’s moments i find true solace in it, this has been my life for a long time now, so it’s just something i’ve really gotten used to.”

“and you’re happy to go back to it, after this?” your question is loaded, and you feel dumb for even asking but when you did call him over to get him to not go through with his plans, of course your motivations have slightly changed, but your goal is still the same. 

 “i don’t think you should ask me to make a choice, knowing that im not going to choose you,” he grits out, he doesn’t want to hurt your feelings, but 

“you’re not gonna win you know, satoru wouldn’t let it happen,” you couldn’t help yourself, the rejection he just gave you stung, and you wanted him to feel what you felt.

but geto doesn’t bite, he knows you’re hurting—that he’s the cause of it, so he lets you hurt, his hold tightening comfortably as you sulk in his arms. geto places a kiss on your temple, ignoring your comment as he concludes, “let’s just not, okay?”

geto stays with you until your breathing settles into a steady rhythm, and you don’t notice him slipping out of you. he cleans you up and tucks you into your bedsheets, giving you one final stare as if he’s trying to keep a mental image of how you look when he’s last seen you. his lips meet yours in a final, chaste kiss and he mutters a promise that he didn’t think you’d hear, but you do, stirring awake as his lips leave yours, “i’ll see you again… eventually.”

you wake up to an empty room, the warmth of geto's presence replaced by a stark emptiness. the realisation hits you like a wave of cold water – he's gone, leaving nothing behind but soiled sheets and a hollow ache in your chest. there's no note, no message, no trace of his ever being there, except for the lingering scent of him that clings to the air. you know that someone will eventually inform you of the outcome of the night, but deep down, you already suspect that his last promise to you will end up being broken.

AN: first like proper proper real juicy fic that ive written in a long time imo and its just like this took me so long since im soooo sensitive about my geto fics and im just like overly critical about my angsty and fluff and plot fics and my smut and JUST EVERYTHING but I managed to get it all done and I think some parts of this really hit hard. the ending is ofc bittersweet since if we go by canon, he goes and yuta beats his fuckinggg ass and he dies wtf but... the true ending is really up to your imagination. (not really) like dont even think about the ending just focus on the fact that they NEVER TELL EACHOTHER THAT THEY LOVE EACH OTHER BECAUSE UR SO IN LOVE THAT YOU ADMITTING THAT UR STILL 'HIS GIRL' IS ALL THE CONFIRMATION HE NEEDS. my finished an are sooo long why because I FUCKING CAN SO I HOPE YOU ENJOY, PLEASE LMK UR THOUGHTS AND SLAY ALL DAY also thank you @kazushawty and @biscuitsngravie for reading and supporting me 🥹🥹

[eeuni]

like him ! b.e

angst, fluff, daddy issues, sh & ed

you had experienced a loss that time would not fix. your father was going around in your mind, after years without knowing about him, you still carried him in your heart everywhere. he was not in a coffin underground, but far away from you. very far away, much more his love. ever since you could remember, his fights with your mother went beyond the limit, broken glass, bleeding knuckles and screams could be seen and heard. after those fights he would grab his things, ready to leave and not come back, telling you that he didn't want to leave you, but he had to do it so he could come back the next day, as if nothing had happened.

you grew up not knowing what to expect, terrified that he would leave again, tired of seeing him leave and come back. he would sit you on the chair, your mother and him crying, repeating that it wasn't your fault but that they were going to start a divorce.

one more lie.

you fell asleep with a bitter taste, at fourteen, what else can you do? bleeding thighs, mirrors covered with sheets, nights without leaving the bed that seemed like your body was slowly beginning to rot. your father took you to the river, taught you how to use a gun, made you laugh.

and for a moment everything seemed to be stable, at least for a year. another fight ruined happiness, confidence, the desire to stay alive. now he has finally left home. "he's coming back tomorrow" you believed.

It had been so long since you saw your father walk through that cursed door. empty house, relapse, therapy, and a new man in the house. your mother's boyfriend. what a detestable thing. your mother complained that you never went out, that you were always sad, that you missed your dad but he was not a good person.

of course you knew, you knew what he had done, but not by his own decision. you left that house behind, you traveled to another country, you looked for a different nickname, you started smoking and being alone as always but in another place.

while you were studying and working you met zoe, your new friend. you discovered that she liked the smiths, so you decided to invite her to lunch. now at 21 you ordered a bottle of alcohol. she told you about billie.

oh, billie.

the beautiful black-haired girl who gave you a smile all the time, who took you to the best places to eat, bought you flowers, did everything in her power to make you look good and happy. you liked her instantly, fell in love within months, and your fear appeared out of nowhere, one summer night.

billie adjusted the sheets of her bed where you now slept almost every night. she hid in your chest, watching you from below smoking a cigarette. her eyes were shining.

"that smells like shit." she spoke, laughing.

"yeah, i know, but it's different when you smoke it." you put out the cigarette, billie had bought about two months ago a cute ashtray with flowers on it for you to use. "you know what? i think i'm broken."

billie looked at you confused, you had said that out of nowhere. "the other day a friend and i were talking, she told me about the love she feels for her friends and partner." you kept talking. "and i was like 'how do you not be afraid? ' "

"about what?" she asked in a quiet voice.

"you know...that you don't know how to love and that in one moment you want to give them all the love in the world and in the second you don't want that person to repeat that they loves you or even touch you." you explained.

she thought about it for a moment, finding it difficult to speak.

"can i tell you something?"

when billie asked that you froze. if that was what you were thinking, you wouldn't know what you would do. you swallowed, sat up better on the bed and looked at her curiously, with fear.

"...yes."

"i think i fell in love with you."

a burning sensation formed in your stomach. of course you loved billie very much, so much that sometimes it was overwhelming and perhaps the fear of not knowing how to love her stopped you from taking any steps that would indicate that you need her. you loved her from afar, in silence, admiring her beautiful being for months.

"what if i hurt you?" was the first sentence that came out of your trembling lips. billie's gaze softened, placing a hand over yours. "what if i don't know how to love? what if i'm a copy of what my father is?"

tears began to form in the corners of your eyes, you began to feel the need to tear your skin off at the thought that you were living it all in your father's body, with his ideas, his traumas, his wounds that continued to bleed. you couldn't hurt her, even if that meant keeping all the love you had for her to yourself and taking a step back.

"hey." she caught your attention, you looked into her eyes again. "what your father is is not synonymous with what you are. you are not in his skin. you love in such a beautiful way, i noticed it. with me, your friends, with people you don't even know. would your father do what you do every day for the people you love?"

you saw him in the back of your mind, grabbing his bags and leaving you for the last time. the first time you wished for him to come back and he wouldn't. by this time you were crying, fighting with yourself.

"you don't mind loving someone who has disorganized attachment?"

"i don't mind loving someone like that, because i know very well that you can overcome any difficult moment." she smiled softly. "and that you love me too much to keep me away."

you laughed at billie's words. she was right, you had created a connection with her where you simply needed her.

"you're right." you proved her right. "i love you too much to keep you away."

"so...that means you're in love with me too?"

she asked, her excitement building behind her heart because she was sure you would say yes, even though a part of her was still afraid. you nodded.

you bit your lower lip and before billie could say anything you captured her mouth in a kiss full of sweetness. you felt every foreign wound beginning to heal. the foreign wounds that your father left on you.

no doubt your expressions were perhaps like his, your way of walking or smiling.

but your way of loving would never be a murder committed by the one where he left the lifeless body on your shoulders. with billie you would learn to leave all that pain aside.

(...)

two years later, billie was now your girlfriend, you lived together with shark. you were sorting through a couple of boxes containing things from your childhood, you looked through a diary you hadn't seen in a long time.

"she said that i made expressions like him.

my waist and my posture like him.

so do i look like him?"

a tear fell. you grabbed a pen, sitting down on the cold floor. you started writing in that old diary from your childhood.

"you can look like him

but you don't love like him."

you heard billie's sweet voice calling you to dinner. "my love?" she asked. you wiped away your tears but before you could compose yourself billie walked into the room, instantly getting worried. "baby! what happened sweetheart?"

she came over, crouching down beside you. you smiled.

"im just very happy."

you answered. your girlfriend's gaze fell to that old diary, reading those words. she didn't say anything, she just held you tight against her body, kissing your forehead. "i'm so proud of you."

"i'm proud of myself too."

you finally learned that life doesn't end when your father walks out that door of your childhood.

[wlntrsldler]

THE PROPHECY | LUKE CASTELLAN

synopsis: series of events between zeus!reader and luke that started the prophecy. not canon-compliant; inspired by the prophecy by taylor swift.

series masterlist | previous | next

Hand on the throttle, thought I caught lightning in a bottle, but it's gone again.

"Do you think Thalia knew I loved her?"

There was a bite in the air, as there always was when the summer began to fade and fall began to creep up at Camp Half-Blood. It happened every year, at least for the past three years you've called Camp Half-Blood your home.

Luke sat beside you on the hard, dirt floor, looking up at the green of Thalia's pine tree. The summer campers knew of her legend, but it was the year-rounders like you and Luke who understood her sacrifice best. There was a feeling of guilt and gratitude that engulfed all of you, like the protection Thalia blanketed over the campgrounds. You were thankful that demigods had a place to feel safe, but it came at the cost of a life. Thalia should be here.

"Of course she knew," Luke replied, unconsciously yanking out the blades of grass that flourished between the cracks in the floor. "She's your sister."

"Yeah, but do you think she knew I chose to love her?" You clarified, turning your head to face him. You did this every year, you and Luke at the foot of Thalia's tree once the summer campers all left for the year. “I mean yeah, I had to love her because she’s my sister, but do you think she knows that I would’ve chosen to love her even if she wasn’t? I feel like I never told her that. We always fought.” 

Each year you studied Luke and noted the things that were different. He's older now. His arms were more defined, muscles beginning to form on his otherwise lanky frame. He'd grown taller in the last few months and his body was adjusting to his new height. The pants he wore all of last summer were discarded a few months ago. They stopped short on his ankles and Luke decided that it was time to let them go. 

Another bead was added to his necklace, three wooden beads clanking against each other, just like yours, when he moved his body too quickly. A new bracelet adorned his wrist given to him by a young girl in the Hermes cabin before she left to go back to Virginia for the year. Luke had a collection of bracelets stashed in his bedside drawer. It was a reminder of all the demigods he wanted to protect. Some became painful reminders of the ones he couldn't.

Luke pursed his lips, "Sisters fight. I don't think she took it personally."

Each year you studied Luke and treasured the things that stayed the same. He still had the same smile as he always did, bringing you back to when you and Thalia first met him all those years ago– just three kids fighting for your lives all on your own. You and Luke were the same age, him only your senior by a few weeks, but he took the protector role seriously. Luke was your safe place before Camp Half-Blood. 

His curls were the same, especially in the mornings when he first gets out of bed; all wild and unruly, just like how he is when he wasn't carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. Some people say it's because he's the son of Hermes so mischief ran through his veins, but there was nothing about Luke that mirrored his father. He was too good to be like the gods.

"I just wish my last words to her weren't that," You uttered, a bitter taste in your mouth as you replayed your last conversation with Thalia. In the final stretch of your journey to Camp Half-Blood, you and Thalia got into an argument. In hindsight, it was petty, a disagreement that any older and younger sister would have, but it felt big at the moment. You didn't speak to her for two days. And then, in the blink of an eye, there was a blinding light, and suddenly, your little sister vanished.

You don't even remember what the fight was about anymore.

"You need to forgive yourself," He said, flicking away the blades of grass he had in between his fingertips, "This wasn’t on you."

He said this every year, yet it never felt rehearsed. It always felt genuine when Luke said it. You wondered if he got annoyed at how you brought this up each year, this never-ending feeling of guilt that you didn't turn around to see if Thalia was behind you, that you couldn't protect your little sister, but Luke was patient with you. If it bothered him that you thought about it often, he didn't show it.

"Sometimes it feels like it is," You whispered, watching a singular pine fall from a branch. You like to think that Thalia did these things to let you know that she's listening. "Our dad hasn't talked to me since."

Luke clenched his jaw, wiping his hand on the fabric of his cargo pants. His warm palm took your hand, giving it a soft squeeze, "You're better off."

"Maybe."

"You are," He said, clearing his throat. His chest felt heavy as he spoke. "I have to tell you something."

You turned your hand over, lacing your fingers together. Holding Luke's hand always felt right, even when you were fourteen and he had to drag you away to safety from the monsters who were out to get you; even when you were fifteen being woken up by the nightmares caused by the empty Zeus cabin, a chilling reminder that your sister was supposed to be there; even when you were sixteen and began to take on more responsibilities at camp despite your protests. "What is it, Luke?"

"I have a quest," He admitted. He'd been keeping this from you for days. He was meant to embark on this journey today, but he pleaded with his father to give him until tomorrow to begin. He knew the day the summer campers left was hard on you. 

Your stomach dropped. Luke had been waiting for a quest from his father for years. You watched him fall into a pit of despair every time a camper who'd been at camp for a shorter period of time got a quest and returned with the glory of the strongest and bravest champions. You knew Luke wanted the opportunity to prove himself to his father. This quest was it, but it didn't mean that you were enthusiastic about the idea. "When do you leave?"

"In a few hours."

"Oh."

"Are you upset?"

"No," You said, then paused. You thought about it. Luke let you think in silence, rubbing his thumb along your skin. "Yes, but I can't do anything about it. I can't stop it."

"Say the word and I will, you know that," Luke rebutted, staring at you now. "I won't go if you don't want me to."

"Luke," You sighed, "You can't deny the gods."

"For you, I'd try to." Sometimes Luke said things that worried you. You'd always been told that your allegiance should be to the gods, your parents. Sometimes you felt differently, but you never said it out loud, but Luke had no problem doing it. He made it clear that his allegiance was to the people he loved, to you. 

"You should go," You said, ignoring the shake in your voice. It was tempting to tell him to stay; Tell him to be content to live a quiet life in the safety of these grounds, to be content with the glory he received from being the head counselor of the Hermes cabin, as the best swordsman at camp. But Luke craved more to life than this, you knew that. He needed more than another notch on his belt from Capture the Flag. He deserved more. He deserved a father who cared about him. Maybe this quest is the key to giving him exactly what he needed. You couldn’t in good conscience keep him from that.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." The lie burned your tongue. While some demigods returned victorious, some never returned at all. The thought of it made a chill run down your spine. It made Luke flinch.

He wrapped his arms around you. The position was awkward, but neither of you cared. When you were younger, his curls tickled the side of your cheek when you hugged him. You used to be able to look him in the eye back when you were the same height. You used to be able to memorize the features on his face; the crinkles by the side of his eyes that would appear when he'd smile, eyelashes brushing against the stray hairs of his eyebrows; full cheeks dusted with the faintest shade of pink from the beating sun or the wind chills; a crease under his lips that cast a shadow on his chin.

Now that you're older, his curls fell against your temple when he held you like this. His face was thinner, jaw more defined and cheeks hollow, like his youth was being drained from him each year. But his heart remained the same. A steady thump against your own, a beat that became synonymous with home. 

“I feel like this is a test,” He murmured, shaking as he spoke. He’ll blame it on the wind if you asked, but he knows that his words would fall flat. You always did know when things felt wrong with him. Sometimes he thought that you knew him better than he knew himself. Luke licked his lips, “Like he’s expecting me to fail and prove what he’s known all along.” 

“You always tell me that I’m more than what the gods think of me,” You said, looking up at him. Luke was staring at the sky, jaw rigid as he fought back the tears. There were only a handful of things that made Luke emotional– talking about his father was one of them. He used to cry when he talked about May, too, but now when someone asks about his mother, his tone turns robotic. He recited her fate like a broken record, waiting for the inevitable looks of pity from the onlookers. You brushed your thumb along his jaw, “Luke?” 

“Hm?” His eyes darted to yours, a ghost of a smile appearing on his lips as he studied your features. Luke always knew you were beautiful, but sometimes when he was this close to you, it knocked the breath out of his lungs for a moment, like he couldn’t believe you were real. 

“You always tell me that I’m more than what they make me out to be,” You repeated, holding his face in the palm of your hand, “And yet you never believe it for yourself.” 

He couldn’t help but chuckle. You’d called him out on his hypocrisy more times than he could count. You were right, though. He did always tell you that the opinions of the gods didn’t matter, not when they didn’t know you like he knew you, not when they were too preoccupied in their own world to realize that you were the greatest thing they created. 

“You are more than what your father thinks.” 

He wanted to believe you, he really did, but all his life he’d been told that he was destined for something great. And yet the things he’d been able to accomplish so far seem so miniscule, irrelevant, in the context of the gods. He craved more. 

When Luke was a child, May Castellan used to mumble the same phrase over and over again. He didn’t think much of it then, nothing that his mother said usually made any sense to his nine-year-old self anyway, but the more time he spent at Camp Half-Blood, the clearer her words became. Luke was destined for something, it’s in the cards, it’s in the hands of fate. This quest might be it, the first step to reaching eternal glory. 

There are times though, during moments like this, with you beside him, when he thinks that he’ll be fine not reaching eternal glory. He can live out his life happily with just this; you and him at the foot of Thalia’s tree, with you telling him he’s more than what the gods want him to be. After all, he’d give up eternal glory if it meant being with you. 

“You’re gonna be okay without me around?” He teased. For years, it had always been you and Luke. It was a type of co-dependence that made Chiron and Mr. D's eyebrows raise. They found it dangerous. You overheard them talking in the Big House about it once, how unnatural it was for two demigods to choose each other despite the dangers of it. You joked that it was a trauma bond of sorts, but you and Luke both knew that it was more than that. Neither of you said it out loud, though, both too scared to ruin whatever this was.

“No, probably not,” You confessed. Your words took him by surprise. He was expecting you to join his teasing, but he found no trace of banter in your tone. You bit your bottom lip, “But you’re gonna come back, so I’ll be okay. I need to be okay with you being gone. I can’t expect things to always stay the same.” 

Luke couldn’t help but frown at your words. He knew you were right like you always were, but he didn’t like the idea of things changing. So much in his life moved with the tides, and up until he met you, he was fine with it. But the idea of the two of you changing, the idea of one day not having this, not having you, well, Luke didn’t think he could stomach the idea. His lips hovered over the crown of your head, almost touching you but not quite, “Not us, though. It will always be us.” 

Luke didn’t know what he was destined to do, what prophecy the gods and the Fates had in store for him, but the only thing he was sure of was you. And that was never going to change if he could help it.

[ode2rin]

it has become an awful pattern of habit how much itoshi sae always shows up at your doorstep only when he wants to. 

“don’t go out with oliver.”

and here he was again, like a recurring relapse that happens every single time you thought you’re doing better. the kind that hits when you think you're finally making progress, that momentary flicker of doing better before it all crumbles.

and you were. you’re doing good, doing better, but god, does it hurt like hell when he pulls stunts like this.

it was a relentless tug-of-war, a game he played so unfairly, leaving you with no rules, no defenses. you were damn sick of it. 

“really?” the word escaped as a scoff, a blend of disbelief and irritation coating your voice. “you're showing up to my place at this hour just to say that?” 

a drawn-out exhale left sae's lips at your reaction, the scent of alcohol accompanying it—a scent foreign to the sae you'd known. was he drinking? itoshi sae doesn’t drink – or at least the sae you knew would never let a single drop of alcohol taint his flesh. 

“just don’t. he’ll hurt you.”

a bitter laugh escaped you, “you're one to talk about hurting people, aren't you?”

if you didn't know better, you'd mistake the look he shot you for something resembling an apology mixed with regret. but no, you knew that those eyes can never hold such, not for you, not for anyone.

“news flash, itoshi. you don’t have the right to decide who i can or cannot go out with.” 

“don’t i?” 

his challenge lingered in the air, a question not constrained by words but driven by conflicting wills, a daring meeting of gazes that had been evaded until now.

you're so fucking unfair, itoshi sae.

“leave,” you spat, your grip on the doorknob tightened, fingers almost digging into the cool metal. 

“don’t i, y/n? do i not have a right to you?”

“please, sae. just go,” you murmured, eyes squeezed shut, a trace of tears threatening to break free.

“— because you have all damn rights to me that it fucking terrifies me.” 

and there it was.

the vulnerability he so fiercely and stubbornly concealed, laid bare for you to witness. it slipped out like an admission, raw and unguarded.

sae's insides churned as your gaze bore into him, the intensity of it feeling like a searing heat that left him exposed, his thoughts laid bare. it was as if you were looking at him as if he had grown a second head, an incredulity mirrored in his own disbelief at what he had just blurted.

but it’s the truth, a truth etched not in alcohol-induced haze but in the sobering clarity that you, ever loving you, terrified him. 

“you– you terrify me," his words stumbled out, like he was admitting a secret he never meant to reveal. “you’re the first thought that comes to my mind, and the last one before i sleep. i feel you everywhere, your presence, your absence — it terrifies me, y/n.” 

he ran a hand through his hair, a gesture of frustration that echoed the inner chaos he couldn't quite contain. the sting of alcohol just added to the jumble of thoughts, like mixing a cocktail of emotions he wasn't prepared to deal with. 

sae had never been great with handling drinks, and here he was, wearing his heart on his sleeve, a little more vulnerable than he’d intended. 

after all, a body so foreign to alcohol can only handle so much.

and it's ironic how that also applies to sae's acceptance of your love – like a liquor he's not used to, but still very much would like a taste.

he knew he had absolutely no right to show up here; he had no right to stop you from going out with another man; he had no right to claim a part of you, not after he shattered your heart because he was afraid of his own.

he knew that, but itoshi sae is selfish. he wanted you, terrifyingly so. he hoped — prayed, even—no one will ever have you the same way he does. 

and he meant that in the most selfish way possible. because, time and time again, itoshi sae was selfish, even more so when it came to loving you.

“it terrifies me,” he carried on, a touch firmer this time, his gaze unyielding as it held yours, “how much you consume me, and it frightens me even more how much i would let you.”

“then just let me, you stupid asshole.” 

the words burst out of you, a declaration that felt like a leap of faith. your arms instinctively reached out, embracing him as if to underscore your determination. you had caught his confession like a lifeline, and now it was your turn to throw your heart into the mix.

“and you have all the damn rights to me too,” you murmured against his lips.

the truth is, he doesn't deserve you, not in the slightest. but god, you want him to— so bad. and after hearing what he said, you knew he wanted the same thing too.

you wrap your arms tighter around him, and it's like fitting together two missing pieces. you missed this, missed him. no amount of trying will ever relieve the longing. because truth be told, hearts aren't great at playing hide and seek; that much can be seen from the way you’re both holding on to each other.

“i'll love you slowly, until it's not scary, until you get used to it,” you whispered, forehead pressed against his.

in the quiet space between your whispered words, sae felt the world shift beneath his feet. 

love with you wasn't meant to be frightening. love with you wasn't meant to be all-consuming.

love with you, he realized, only needed to be exactly like this— your fingers against his nape, a smile curving your lips, and the assurance in your gaze that promised better times ahead.

“i’ll get used to it.” maybe the words came off wobbly, but he couldn’t care any less now; it was a promise.

“you better.” you let out a chuckle, genuine this time, and it took just one chuckle for sae to realize that everything will be just fine. 

[extra]:

“sae?”

you pull his attention, sensing his wakefulness from the lingering kisses he peppers on your skin. the same man who laid bare his heart to you was sprawled within your sheets, his breathing gentle against your neck.

though his lips stay sealed, the comforting squeeze of your hand relays that he was listening.

“where did you hear that i’m going out with oliver?”

a brief pause, followed by a scoff. way to ruin a moment, sae’s inner voice grumbles at the timing of your question. why bring up another guy's name now, especially when he's shirtless and right above you? the nerve.

“doesn’t matter.” he dismisses your question. 

yet, there's something oddly satisfying about riling up the usually composed sae, it’s one of your life’s greatest pleasures. and so, you press on, unable to resist the urge to tease. 

“come on, now. i want to know what made my cold and grumpy sae to show up at my door at 2 am, professing that i terrify him,” you pushed, meeting his irritated glare with an arched brow. “— and don’t give me that look. those were your words, not mine!”

tch. he clicks his tongue, fully aware you won't let him live down his confession. “got it from shidou. he told me right before asking me to drink with him.”

as those words escape sae’s lips, you burst into laughter, leaving him to wonder if he broke you with last night's late-night affection.

“what’s so funny?” he raises an eyebrow at your sudden outburst.

“shidou tricked you into drinking with him, love. i turned down oliver without a second thought. we didn't even get close to going on a date,” you playfully reveal, your grin growing. “i kind of mentioned that to shidou. we share gossip occasionally, you know.”

sae froze at what you said, and he didn’t need no damn mirror to see that he was turning red from the embarrassment and realization that he had been lured to drink.

“i’ll kill him.”

“and i’ll thank him.” may shidou get all the dopamine he so cunningly desires. 

note. i also don't know what this is so don't look at me now :P i'm throwing tomatoes at myself

[copinghex]

Blood hands | T.S

Summary: After killing someone for the first time, Tommy's wife has to deal with the emotional consequences of it. Luckily, he's there to look after her.

She was terrible in biology, never got more than a B, it didn't matter how hard she studied. Every exam period she went to the tiny, dusty Birmingham's library and took notes from the anatomy books. Nothing ever changed.

Analyzing the drawings, she tried to make sense out of them, the muscles, joints and bones, wrapped together in the masterwork of the human body. It just didn't make sense to her, the subject simply wouldn't get into her brain and honestly, it disgusted her too. She had no wish to see beneath someone's skin, aware the reality was much more bloodier and morbid than the books.

Less than ten years later, she did, but unlike she imagined, the bile didn't rise to her throat expressing the deep disgust. Her eyes opened widely, unable to move from the mess of what once must've been a beautiful body.

The curly golden locks hid the agent's frightened looks, gladly, because the murderer in the train station wouldn't bear to face the lack of life in her blue eyes. 

Blood ran down her nose, her hands shook and her left eye stung. The woman who a few ago held her in disadvantage, sticking a sharp nail into her orb, was reduced to nothing by the train's velocity. A push was all it took.

Then, her trance was interrupted by the sound of steps, she ran away like a child avoiding punishment, not many people dared to fuck with a gangster's fiancée, but the ones who did certainly would make her look much worse in the train tracks.

As she headed home, carrying her heels in hand so she could walk faster, another haunting thought crept into her mind, Tommy, the reason why she had blood in her hands. She was sure he'd be dead when she got home, with a bullet Billy Kimber would've put in his brain.

For a moment she considered not going anywhere, simply sitting down on someone's pavement so she wouldn't have to deal with anything. 

If she only could, she'd ask God to allow her man to be alive when she got home, she couldn't, asking Him to save a man like Tommy felt like blasphemy or a joke of poor taste. There was no salvation for the Small Heath's devil, at least not from divine sources.

Swallowing the bitter taste of uncertainty, she walked home with a heavy heart. However, much for her surprise, Tommy stood at the front door, his eyes slightly widened at her awful state. Her throat burnt with the urge to cry as she dropped her heels and wrapped her arms around him, he winced in pain from the bullet hole in his chest, nevertheless, allowed her to hold him.

His name poured from her lips in quiet, relieved whispers. His attentive eyes were quick to capture every irregularity in her figure, bruised knuckles, teary eyes and bare foot. He had never seen her so broken.

"I was coming to pick you up," he explained, "what happened? Where were you?" 

Lifting her head from his shoulder, her still shaky hands hesitated in cupping his cheeks, resting on his shoulders instead. She negatively nodded and peeked at the wound under his coat.

"You're alive, that's all that matters," 

"What happened to you?" he insisted.

"Tommy, please," she breathed out, caressing the length of his arms, "not now, not fucking now," 

His jaw tightened as he fought the urge of arguing, he hated to have things hidden from him, but knowing he'd eventually find out anyway, he obliged to her wish.

Gently, his thumb met the eyelid of her wounded eye, "That's fucking bad," 

"I'll go to the pharmacy tomorrow, they'll give me something to get it better," she drawled, "now, tell me what happened," 

"...Danny whizz-bang is dead," was all Tommy deemed as relevant, guilt weighted heavily on the sergeant's voice, he was responsible for his soldiers' safety and he had failed Danny badly.

"Oh, darling," she muttered, "I'm so sorry," 

Looking away from her merciful eyes, he slightly nodded. Reaching for a cigarette from his silvery pack before saying, "We're at the Garrison now," 

"I'm not up for it, you can go back if you want," with a quick brush on his cheek, she entered home and in a quick decision, Tommy followed after, "I'll take a bath, then take a look at your bandages, who took the bullet out?" 

"Jeremiah," he drawled.

She nodded, glad someone gentle as the preacher looked after her husband when she wasn't able to. Heading to the bathroom, she only hoped the hot water would wash away the weight on her shoulders.

-

Rubbing her hands together, she watched the quiet street through the window, every now and then a lonely citizen walked past and this was all keeping her from dissociating.

The bath wasn't of great help, the relaxation it brought also lowered the adrenaline, making her muscles and wounds ache. A knot tightened on her throat as she tried to convince herself everything was fine. Everything was fine, Tommy was alive, no one was after them anymore, nothing else mattered, nothing.

The door suddenly opened, making her jump. Tommy entered the bedroom with a towel on his shoulder, his bare torso was still wet from his bath and he moved slowly, careful to not get his injury bleeding.

Attentively, she noticed his mind was far away from there, a pout decorated his lips and his brow was tense. Eager to sooth his worries, she whistled the stereotypical catcalling sound. 

"Hello, handsome," she weakly smiled.

Lifting his eyes, a nearly nonexistent smile crept into his face, "Quit that," 

She walked to him, wrapping her arms around his waist, "Do you come here often?" 

"In my bedroom?" he chuckled, "Yeah, quite often," 

She took advantage of his momentarily good humor to take a look at his wound. Before she could avoid it her eyes got filled with tears, she had nearly lost him today, not all the killing she was able to commit would've brought him back if she'd done so, he'd be gone, simple as that.

"D'you want to tell me what happened now?" Tommy cupped her face, trying to distract her.

"...I love you, Tom," was all she was able to mutter.

"I know, and I love you," 

Slightly nodding, she sighed, "What now?" 

"Well, I-" he hesitated, "I thought of opening a club in London," 

"About Danny," she sat at the end of the bed, "what about his family?" 

"We'll help them, financially," Tommy explained.

"Get his children a job?" 

"No, no more business for the Owens," he sighed, "they'll be normal, his children will never know why he died," 

Hearing his words, her throat tightened, a heavy feeling settled in her chest. Did the woman she killed had children? When she first got into the Garrison Tommy found out she did, but that was before they ever suspected she was a copper, how much of everything she said was lies? How would her child react to knowing its mother was dead on train tracks? 

Tommy watched his fiancée's state with pity in his eyes, he hated her stubbornness at the same time he was well aware of how much they were alike. Both closed off before trouble, hating to burden the other with issues they deemed personal. 

"You know, eventually you'll have to tell me what happened,"

Her watery eyes met his and she pulled him to stand between her legs, wrapping her arms around him and resting her head on the soft skin of his stomach.

Gently, he petted her hair away from her face and his rough fingers on her face brought some relief, still, she felt like a wounded beast. A wounded beast is still a beast and she'd forever be a murderer regardless of Tommy's acceptance.

"Tell me, eh?" he whispered.

"Tommy, I-" before she could answer, three knocks on the door interrupted.

Arthur entered the bedroom with a worried expression, "Tommy, hm, I just wanted to tell you we found the body of that barmaid in the train tracks, Johnny Dogs wants to know if he should get rid of it," 

She froze, eyes widened at the news, she was so deep into her own guilt she didn't even think about the further consequences.

Tommy switched a look between her and his brother, with a slight nod, he ordered, "Get rid of it," 

Small Heath had another murderer to call resident, there was no way of hiding it now.

[pedge-page]

Insatiable

Part 3/Finale to Cravings and Crash

Frankie Morales x F!Reader

Summary: Frankie and reader spend some time apart before realizing that’s actually really stupid—and solid communication happens for once :) 

Notes: it’s finally HERE! Thank you all so much again for your words of praise and keeping with these two absolute idiots in love. Honestly intended the first one to just be a one-off drabble throw away thought, but I’m glad everyone enjoyed it so much to ask for more! I’m spitting this out earlier than expected. Don’t know if I’ve done them reasonable justice but this is what I’ve got—hope you like it!

Warnings: unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, creampies, mentions of m oral, pussy eating king returns, cum eating, missionary, doggy, cowgirl, overstimulation, fingering, squirting, bit of possessive and jealous Frankie, mentions of drug use, drugs present, language

18+ ONLY

- - - - 

You had cried when you got in your car. And again when you went to your cousin’s house to crash until you signed your new lease. And then again every night for a week straight.

You had NEVER cried this hard over a boy before.

Except this wasn't some boy—this was Frankie. The guy who comforted you through all your dates that stood you up, and shitty boyfriends, albeit few, that left you feeling less than worthwhile. The same Frankie who stood around you like a guard dog when you went drinking together so no one would even think to slip something in your cup, but who YOU have to comfort during horror movies because he's a big scared kitten. Who lets you sleep on his shoulder for five hours in the car no matter how uncomfortable it was for him, never once moving, but still ate the food you didn't like off your plate "because he's a garbage dump who'd eat anything, even mold." 

The first guy to tell you that you were beautiful when you weren't even trying to impress him. Who brings a hair tie with him when you go to eat because you always forget yours and get your hair caught in your fork. Who pushed you to take charge of your life and break up with your loser first love, and it was the hardest and best decision you could have ever made.

And you know what? The ONLY guy who made you cum 9 fucking times the FIRST time he went down on you.

You called Santi that night because you needed to let loose, and the only other person you trusted to hold you up outside of Frankie was Pope.

“So how is he?” Santi asked, as you immediately double fisted your first two shots. 

"I don't wanna talk about him tonight."

Santi nods, eyes widening as you don’t even resist the bitter taste going down your throat. He holds his finger up towards the waitress to order 4 more glasses.

You really didn't want to think about Frankie. The more you thought about him, the more confused you felt, and you couldn't afford to be confused about your purpose in his life right now. You knew battling addiction isn’t a linear healing process. That it would get worse before it got better at times. You're his friend. You're helping him. That's it. 

Frankie spent a whole year being physically intimate with you, but never once asked or made a move for anything more emotionally. So why let yourself get carried away even thinking about something more?

To even consider if you wanted more...

You snatch the shot glass out of Santi's hand right before he was about to sip it and catapulted it down your throat, the burning sensation taking your mind out of the gutter.

Fuck Frankie for not keeping his shit together. Fuck him for being hot and cold. Fuck him for using you when that's exactly what you’re here for.

It's much easier to keep it all that way. Easy to encourage him with sex to avoid overthinking his intentions. Easier to constantly verbalize it, knowing he won’t deny it, as a means of reassurance to yourself. 

But absolutely fucking HELL he’s being so difficult lately. The sex—wasn’t just good. It was fucking phenomenal. you could physically see how much better he was just moments afterwards, even if you were blacking out and falling asleep not too long after. He was so hungry for it too, why deny? But he’d been holding back too much now—getting too tense, crashing, then stressed again. You needed to get things back on schedule with him so he’d be happy again.

And gentle, nurturing, innocent, sober you just wasn't doing the trick for him anymore.

You barely hear Santi over the pounding in your head: "When we was the last time you got laid? You need a distraction from your Fix-a-Fish hobby."

You gulp down the last of the vodka on the table, suppressing a slight burp.

"I'm 'bout to do both tonight."

That was 4 weeks ago. You didn’t achieve either that night.

Fish didn't seem too upset when you left, ultimately making the choice much easier. You looked so fucking stupid walking in there, basically demanding sex from him when he made it clear all year that you were only there for HIM and not the other way around. He didn’t want you like that. 

Good. Makes staying friends that much easier.

Or it did, for a little while. 

You couldn’t get over the way he made you feel when all was well—when he’d serenade you so easily in affection like Querida, Carino, Hermosa, and you could barely contain the butterflies in your stomach each time. You had never once heard him even refer to his dates or ex girlfriends in the same manner. It was both confusing and arousing. He treated you like a best friend some times, but adored you like a lover more. 

Hadn’t the man heard of friendship boundaries? Aside from the fact he made you orgasm every minute of the day, what was Frankie like as a lover? What more could he possibly do to cross that line?

Who the hell treats their friend like that?

That last month, however, felt more realistic. Grounded in the truth of your relation. You didn’t realize how much he had gotten to you with sweet words first that made the change in his attitude so unbearable. 

You wanted to go back to being selfish with his unbridled love.

You hadn’t gotten off in over a week, a new record. But as you lay in bed, conjuring any and all pornos, audio eroticas, pillows, aching fingers, even the dusty vibrator still wrapped in its new plastic, nothing was getting you to that same addictive feeling that Frankie gave you every single day.

You should have called him to return his shirt you had accidentally packed in your bag in a haste to get out of there. But it still smelled like him. You felt perverted getting wet just by holding it in your hands, but it was doing the trick, and finally you could touch yourself without additional lubricant assistance.

All the memories that tumbled from then on only made the ache between your legs worse: The first night, Frankie between your legs, begging you to let go so he could force more orgasms from your shaking body. “Doing s’good for me, cariño. Give me more, fucking starving” ; when he held you in his lap as you grind down on his bulge, his head buried under his shirt that you were wearing as his lapped at your nipples, “Don’t you dare hold back those beautiful moans, wanna hear you singing when I’m devouring you”; when he’d come home from work and didn’t say a word, just grabbed your wrist and lead you to his bedroom, lied on the bed, slapped your ass a few times to get you to straddle him higher, higher, until you were right over his lips. He didn’t even wait for your hesitation, immediately bringing your hips down and crashing his lips on your pussy, shaking his head like a mad scientist at work, hell bent on discovering what makes you cry faster.

You pulled your fingers away from your slick cunt. No amount of memory would compare to the real thing—and it wasn’t all the acts that you needed, but the intimacy, the familiarity that came from Frankie—THAT’S what always sent you over the edge.

It scared you.

Santi was half right. You did need to get laid. Needed someone who wasn’t Frankie to remind you that you don’t rely on him for some shit like getting off (although you had developed a keen preference by now). You needed a new hobby that wasn’t thinking about Frankie all the time. YOU needed a distraction.

He was half wrong, however, because you knew very well that you’d be drowning in lame date after lame lay a million times before you got over the addictive feeling of being around Fish this past year.

It never felt like a chore. Well, obviously, you were getting ate out like a Sunday brunch. But it was everything else that made you want to keep staying around, even after he maybe didn’t need you anymore.

You realized then that leaving was the best for you and him. You had somehow managed to score a  date tonight, the first one in over a year, with a James. Or Jonathan. Or Jimmy. Something J. I think.

I’m excited. I’m going on a date. I’m going to have fun. I’m excited. Im going on a date. Im going to have fun.

You didn’t even have the care to shave tonight before you begrudgingly left for dinner and a movie.

-

He couldn't say it then. Frankie remembered so vividly the image that he wishes he could forget: you standing there, so meek and vulnerable, spilling your tears as you tried to level your emotions with your feelings and confront the fucked up situation he put you in. Maybe if you had screamed, yelled at him and cussed him out for being such a dick, then he could have told you how he truly felt.

He was always better at being shouted at by others from being in the service. The guys would let their tempers soar and just shout, honesty tumbling through like a flood, and then everything would be out on the table, and shit would get DONE.

The apartment is unforgivably quiet and cold.

He's noticing little things you left behind: your nice moisturizer, expensive shampoo, a paper towel holder. He thinks you’re mocking him by leaving bits of you around his place, so he collects them in a bin and waits for you to come retrieve them. But you don't contact him for the first week.

He starts to think maybe you left those things for him. You bought all these things while you were here, forcing him to use them with you:

"Your face is as dry as a desert; you need moisturizer, not body lotion.”

"You can't use a 4 in one hair and body wash!"

"Who the fuck doesn't have a holder for their paper towels?"

It wasn't all just sex when you were here. He remembered coming in to the bathroom when your feet were soaking in the tub, and you explained you were rubbing your calluses off your feet. He joined you, sweats pulled up above his knee as you held him down to get the stone on his crusty feet, the whole time laughing and squirming because it tickled too much. He fell on his ass in the tub desperate to escape your strangely strong grip around his ankle, getting his clothes all wet.

And despite how well he had known you even before your arrangement, he continued to learn new things about you. Like you took night showers, and could only go to bed with your hair in braid. He'd come to see you, agitated in his room all morning, waiting for you to finally wake up so he could distract his craving. He’d walk into the kitchen where you were already cooking him breakfast, slip his arms around your hip, and pull your braids out lovingly to smell scent of your shampoo waft off in waves, closing his eyes and feeling his jitters dissipate, instantly calming him like no other remedy.

Found it funny that you couldn’t use a regular spoon for cereal, always replacing it with a tea spoon because the other ones are “too big” for your mouth to fully close around. A sentiment he suspected to be a load of BS when you had no problem swallowing his cock whole and then gulping down his cum without spilling a drop.

Or when you got red sauce all over the laundry and had to borrow Frankie's shirt to sleep in. He liked that you smelled like him, that it draped over you so pretty, and you'd never wear pants underneath. He'd put you in his lap and make you hold the shirt up with your teeth, showing off your perky tits. His thumb circled your hip bone, large hand clasping your waist to keep you upright while he'd kiss your nipples, and then make you both look down and watch as he rubbed his fingers through your folds, sucking the juices off as he finger fucked you over top him.

He can't help but feel his twitch of his cock stir in his pants at the thought.

Ok. Maybe the sexual parts were a big part—how could they not be? That’s all it was, at first. And he was able to pretend like it was too. But the more time he spent with you. The more time he got to really know you, live with you, breathe you in, unravel you and bind him to you so that you had no sanctuary untouched by him, it was all over before it began. 

He sat down with Pope a week after you left: 

“You look like shit.”

Frankie grumbled, shrugging it off. He hadn’t slept, hadn’t eaten like he used to when you were around. His beard was growing in more patchy and less manicured than before.

“Have you talked to her since?”

“Don’t wanna talk about her tonight.”

Jesus, a broken record with these two, Santi thought. But he knew Fish much better, knew the exact reason why he called him out instead of all the boys together is precisely because he needed to get this off his chest. “She thought you were stressed, needed time. Clearly she was right.”

Frankie’s jaw clenched, teeth grinding so hard that he could form diamonds.

Santi cleared his throat, twirling the ice in his glass casually. “Course, I didn’t tell her you’re head over heels in love with her. Why didn’t you?”

He doesn’t deny it. Doesn’t think he could again. “Imagine how that would have gone? She was crying right there. Right in front of me, BECAUSE of me, after I’d treated her like shit for weeks until her breaking point. Would have given her some fucked up idea that that was my expression of loving her. If I’d said it then, she would never have believed me. Would have ruined everything. Including our friendship.” He pauses, staring down at his rough hands. “She deserves better,” he said weakly, more to convince himself than anyone else.

Santi leans back against the booth. He’d heard the Frankie pity train before, but this was much lower than usual. “And friendship is still good enough for you?”

“I’ll take whatever she’ll give me at this point. I can’t lose her.” 

“You can’t? Or don’t want to?”

Frankie thought about that for a while. He had realized too late he didn’t actually still need you. He hadn’t really “craved” cocaine like before. He no longer needed you tending to his every reaction, overly serving his necessities and desires, always a few steps away to brighten his smile, or warm the house with your laughter, your cooking, your terrible taste in movies, all for the sake of keeping him sane and sober.

But damn it all, he still wanted you.

Frankie goes 4 weeks of the hardest withdrawal of his life. You were right, he was getting better at not thinking about cocaine. But without you here, he's more agitated than before. It's not that he craves it now, but rather craves a substitute to get him through your absence.

He's itching for his phone, for the number of his dealer he should have blocked and deleted so long ago.

He shouldn't. It would devastate you. You'd think it's your fault because you weren't here to distract him, only making the whole lie he’s been telling himself that you could still be just friends more abundantly evident. Pushing that useless tale even further, rooting it in your mind.

 In truth, it is your fault that his entire happiness is now emotionally and physically tied to you, but he can't really blame you for leaving him since he's the big idiot. He had the entire year to make it right, damned be the consequences of your possible rejection.

He’s clenching his fist at his sides, debating whether to text his dealer. He doesn't even want that shit, at least not the way before. He just wants a distraction from the real aches that you've left behind.

And if he did... wouldn't you come back to him to make it right?

You’re so clear in his mind that doesn't even struggle, doesn't hesitate as he pays the money and carries the little pouch in his hands. He gets back to his apartment with vigorous haste, slamming the door behind him, and sits it on the coffee table, staring.

Even if you don't come back to him, getting just a little bit high would help take his mind off it all. He'd be able to stop thinking about you, even for just the night. Just to get some sleep.

Just to stop feeling.

He shakily tries to undo the tightly sealed bag, but few particle traces catch in his finger tips from outside the plastic, and he instantly wafts the infinitesimal scent of it on his finger tips. He stops, feeling something he's never felt before when staring down at the thing thats caused him so much trouble in his life:

Disgust.

-

You considered calling Frankie a million times, but how soon was too soon? Would he think you were just desperate to get ate out again? Would he deny you the second you wanted to see him, thinking it was just a booty call again? You had made some stupid choices, like going on a shitty date with a guy you weren’t even interested in, just to get over Frankie, so that you could avoid thinking about how badly you had shattered your friendship.

And going right back to being his friend, which included sharing one of your reckless decisions you make on your own, was one of them. He’d be interested in hearing about it, right?

You dial him up quickly.

You rock back and forth on your heels, unable to sit still.

The phone rings out to voicemail.

He’s never missed a phone call from you. Not even at 2am on a work night. He's never on his phone, and yet still always managed to answer your calls even if it’s on the last ring.

He's just avoiding you again. It's fine. Santi said he'll get over it eventually. That you’ve done enough worrying for him, and need to take care of yourself for a change.

You glance at the key he gave back to you, and not even a moment later, are soon slipping on shoes and heading out the door with it in hand.

-

You unlock the door and slowly walk in to the familiar layout of Frankie's apartment. It's entirely dark, curtains drawn save for a small crack in the shades. You call out his name tentatively, the eeriness of the place making you anxious. When you see the bathroom light on and door slightly ajar, hearing the rushing sink water running, you sigh relief.

Thank God.

You gently push open the door. "Fish?" You see him, heart skipping a beat at how much thinner, paler he looked now than before, eyes sunk from lack of sleep.

His eyes light up when he sees you, and your heart breaks at how different he looks but STILL has the brightest, softest, loving smile at you.

Your eyes drift down, smile fading, horror quickly overtaking your face at the unopened baggie of white powder sitting at the sink. And his face drops at the realization.

You take one step back, unable to close the gape in your lips, petrified. "Fish—I—holy fuck..."

You had never seen him doing it, never seen him freshly blown high from it. The closest you ever got was what the boys would tell you, or seeing the long aftermath of his crash. They were always first on the scene and quite frankly, ensured you were never the one to find in him these states. You had never been able to mentally prepare to have to handle it now.

"No—no no no! It's not, I didn’t, I didn't! Look—ok it looks like I did but I swear I haven't touched it. It’s still sealed! I’m. I'm dumping it down the toilet."

You don't trust his word, seeing as the bag is here, albeit fully wrapped up, seal unbroken like he said. But here, nonetheless. With him. In front of you with no denial that it was his. 

He gets on his knees and wraps his arms around your waist. “Please don’t leave me. I didn’t want you to leave the first time…”

“And it’s taking you being high right now to admit that?!”

I’m not high, seriously. Check me.” You peer down closer, and aside from his rampant heart beating against your leg and big round eyes, there’s no trace of smell or lingering white powder anywhere on him. But you’re hesitant.

“I bought it but then realized It wasn’t what I really wanted…”

He licks his lips quickly, his brown eyes pleading up to you, biceps flexing against your ribcage.

Your chest is pounding, the encasing feeling of Frankie refusing to let you back away making you feel like a trapped rabbit. 

“Please believe me,” he breathes.

"Your eyes are dilated as fuck Frankie!"

"That's because of you!"

You both hold your breath, a pregnant silence ringing in the air.

“I—I’m. Um. I meant." His eyes trail off sheepishly as a warm blush takes over his face. 

He stands up, rubbing the back of his head. He can tell you’re patiently waiting for him to get over his blubbering awkwardness so he can explain properly. To find the words he’s combing his brain for. And find them he did: 

"I miss you, Querida.”

He breathes slowly, time catching up and suddenly stopping. 

You glance toward the bag, still fearful that he had gotten to this point while you were gone. “Frankie. I’m—I’m so sorry I wasn’t here. For your needs—“

“I don’t need you to fix me. I haven’t craved that shit for a while, still don’t even now. I just wanted you here with me.” He snatches the baggie and chucks it in the toilet, immediately flushing it.

You want to say that might not be great for the plumbing, but Frankie’s hands are on yours, holding them securely to his chest. “I just want you. I should have said it before you walked away.  Should’ve said it a year ago, when I knew I didn’t want to pretend this was just some—some drug replacement.” He goes quieter. “I didn’t want this to be nothing. I thought when we had sex, maybe you’d feel the same, but you didn’t—”

“I was afraid about what would happen to you If our dynamic changed, Fish. I was worried it was just another high. So I tried to make things go back to how they were since it seemed to be working so well for you before,” you rambled. He can see the shininess in your eyes, feel how your body is no longer resisting him and instead, cradling his neck with affection, empathy, nurture, all the things he’d been depraved of for weeks. “But then it made everything worse and I didn’t know what to do—“

He cut you off, as if suddenly things didn’t line up. ”Why did you come back?"

You lick your lips, eyes unable to meet his. “Well I called, and you didn't answer. And I wanted to check up on you, and tell you... um—I mean I always tell you about… I went on a date, my first one in over a year."

Frankie's eyes blankly drift lower, down to your feet, his arms retreating. He takes an awkward step back. "How... how did it go?" He asks slowly, feeling the distance between the two of you growing again.

You throw your hands up in the air, unable to express yourself. “He was…Handsome. Funny. Charming. Paid for me, made me feel pretty, treated me real good—“

He nodded, unable to bring his eyes anywhere else but back to the back on the sink as he listened. “S’good. That’s what you deserve,” he says, jaw tensing.

“Yeah. Yeah it is what I deserve.” You pause, here goes everything. “Except the whole time, I hated the fact that he was nothing like you." 

Frankie’s attention darts back to you as you cup his scruffy face in your hands. "You're irritable, and sassy, and needy and clingy, and you pout when you don't get what you want. And you don't listen to me or stop when I tell you to stop—“

A roasting fest? Now?? “OK, That's, Jesus, I get it—“

"And I love all those things about you.” You hold his gaze, feeling his breath seize in his chest. “And I miss being here. I miss waking up with you every morning, and your smug face being the last I see before I go to sleep. And it took me until after I left to realize how I actually felt about you. This whole year with you has felt like this perfect—“

"High?"

Your brows furrow shyly. “I didn’t want to put it that way, for obvious reasons. But fuck it. Yes. I don’t—I don’t wanna let that go.”

His fingers tense around your waist, almost begging you to say it, spill it out for him and don’t hold back ever again. 

“You got me addicted to you, Francisco."

You aren't aware of how fast he moves, his hands grabbing your neck as he smashes his lips to yours. Your heart is beating out of your chest when he sucks every breath from you, barely separating from your lips to utter "I've waited—so long—for you—“ He hoists you up on his waist and brushes out of the bathroom with your legs wrapped securely around him, his kiss hot and full of passion the entire time. "Wanted you since you first let me have a taste of you.” He slams you on the bed, the familiarity of you two being in this exact situation settles on you. “Wanted you to want me. Want more.”

He continues to engulf your lips with his, his moans vibrating against your tongue. "I shouldn’t—“ he hastily bites your lip with a grunt “—shouldn't have pushed you away—treated you so bad.” He pauses his assault. “I was so scared you didn't want me like that. Couldn't handle pretending I could be okay with it.”

You place your hands on his chest, feeling the pounding of his heart matching yours. "Frankie, I want you."

"Good," he smiles, leaning up to remove his shirt over his shoulders. You whine at the sight. Draping himself over you, his lips never leave your body as he kisses down your chest then back to your lips. You’re unable to bring yourself to action as his body dictates both of your moves.

You feel his bulge pressing painfully against your core, eliciting an obscene moan from your throat. "Frankie—Let me take care—“

"No. Fuck no. I'm taking care of you tonight. And tomorrow, and every fuckin’ day after," he growls.

He kisses you once again but then slowly backs away. "Um, if... if you want that."

He feels your hand tangle in the hair behind his neck as you bring his face back to yours, teeth clashing for dominance. "I want it," you whisper, sucking his lower lip and biting it possessively.

His jaw hitches. “Prove it."

You unbutton your pants, taking his large hand and guiding it down your panties in haste. His digits make contact between your folds, the two of you sighing.

"Oh f-fuck. You want this, don't you?"

"Want you so bad, Frankie. It fucking hurts.”

His fingers dont leave your dripping cunt, spreading your slick around your swollen clit. His other rips your string underwear off with incredible strength. He then helps push your shirt over your head, and you immediately unclasp your bra. Frankie growls lowly at the sight of your perky breasts bouncing from their release. "Fuck, I missed these.” His mouth wraps around as much fat of your tit he could before biting, making you lurch. 

“I—I’m not gonna be slow—I wanted to—“

"Jesus Fish, I don’t care, just take me!"

He plunges two of his thick digits into your soaking heat, making your back arch off the bed. He takes the opportunity to suck a nipple back into his mouth, half his body hovering over you to keep your form perfectly positioned between his mouth and fingers. They teasingly thrust in and out slowly from your hole, intentionally dragging out his torture against you. "So mean to me, baby." His teeth nip at your nipple with a smug grin. "Takin’ my sweet little pussy away from me like that. I barely touched you and you're absolutely soaked. Were you wet on your way here?"

"Frankie I haven't... haven't been able to get off in weeks."

"How long?"

You moan out loud, eyes rolling back as your brain turns to mush. Your hand tries to guide his wrist faster but he slaps it away, continuing his teasing ministrations.

"Answer me!"

"Since the last time you touched me!" You cry.

He haults his movements. 

The girl who bragged about cumming an average of 6 times a day just grinding on a pillow, now telling him she hasn't been able to orgasm in a month, because of him.

Ohhhhhhh fuuuuccccckkkkkfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck. “That why you went on your little date, huh?"

You nod shamefully.

"Did you fuck him?"

You whine, eyes burrowing in confusion that he still expected you have coherent thoughts while he had you in this compromising position, teetering on the brink of your much needed orgasm.

"Your date.” He repeats, his wrist slowing down entirely. “Did. You. Fuck. Him."

“No—no! I didn’t even let him kiss me goodnight. Couldn't even get wet for him, that's how bad—Frankie, fuck! please!—bad you've got me fucked up."

He speeds up his hands, satisfied with your confessions. They are thrusting perfectly in and out at record speeds as his jaw clenched around your tit, watching your eyes roll back as your first orgasm in WEEKS overwhelms you fast. You’re shaking violently, legs desperate to close but Frankie pries them open with his strong hand, continuing to dominate your cunt with his incessant fingers.

You feel something else coming as he continues to ram his wrist against you, fingers digging so deep, curling so effortlessly that you can’t stop the gush of liquid squirting out of you. “Oh shit, oh fuckfuckFUCK that’s it! That’s my girl, holy fuck yeah—yeah keep going, Cariño, so fucking good.” He continues to finger fuck you repeatedly, working you through it as your pussy continues to contract and release your spend.

You hardly have time to process your embarrassment as he's shifting below your hips, throwing your thighs over shoulder and giving your soaked pussy a longing look. Your clit twitches excitedly. Cool air is blown on it, making you fist his hair harder. He presses his large nose into you, inhaling your scent like bloodhound, growling like a man possessed at the sticky coating. "I fucking missed you, Hermosa," he groans, and his mouth latched right on to your pulsing cunt. You gasp, hands fisting his hair as he rolls your overstimulated clit with his tongue, jaw opening wide to practically swallow your pussy whole, sucking away everything you're giving him.

Whether he was talking to you or your pussy, it didn’t really matter to you. All you could process was the rough feeling of his fat tongue and scruffy face rubbing perfectly between your legs as Frankie got reacquainted with his former addiction. "FrankieFrankieFranke-ohFUCK!"

You can’t stop him, can’t even warn him as the overstimulation send you into a fit of gasps, cumming again, legs squeezing his head as painful pleasure courses through you. His upper back is littered in your scratches, the red marks raising his skin like tiger stripes.

You're struggling to catch your breath with ragged moans. He slows his licks to draw it out, letting your spasms pass. His sinful, lidded eyes have never left your face, absorbing every reaction from you, committing it to memory.

"You really have neglected this poor pussy," he teases, kissing your clit as his fingers begin to spread your glistening folds once again.

You can only nod, arms covering your face as he starts to rub the pad of his thumb on your swollen nub again. “It’s—not as good—unless it’s you.”

He grits his teeth in satisfaction. “S’okay. M’ gonna take care of you now. Gonna fuck you real soon."

You whine when he pushes his fingers back in to your tight heat.

"And then, when I’m done fucking you—We're gonna fuck again," he laughs.

You’re a bit frightened with how he’s looking at you: like he’s fucking possessed by a hungry, malicious demon.

He makes you cum on his fingers again, then his lips, then both at once. He’s pinning you down so harshly, you have no choice but to take the endless barrage of orgasms he’s forcing from you, almost as if he’s trying to make up for the time you two have been apart. 

By the time his tastebuds are content, he brings himself back up to you, messily kissing your lips so you taste yourself, his beard and stache now soaked in your cum and rubbing along your chin.

You gasp when you feel his hard cock sliding along your folds. He rolls his hips against you, your copious slick letting him glide effortlessly, tip nudging your clit.

“Frankie,” you warn, unable to handle his teasing now.

He grabs the base of his dick. “Beg. Beg me for it,” He commands with a godly voice you’d never heard him use before. He slaps the underside of his throbbing member repeatedly against your pussy with a taptaptaptap. “Tell me you want it.”

You don’t care for the fat tears spilling down your cheeks as you whine like a bitch in heat. “Fuckyou, Frankie,” you seethe, anger building with your desperation. “I fucking want it, want it so bad, want you to ruin me, please, Fish, fucking please put it in already!”

He grins, big and sadistic as he watches your face contort with the first push of his tip into your wetness. “Oh F—“ he breathes, eyes closing as your tight walls do their best to accomodate his size.

Your eyesight is blurry, waves of pleasure rolling throughout your entire body, delirious as he bottoms out. Where he belongs. Where he’s always meant to be.

He presses his forehead to you as his hips start rutting.

He’s hardly fucked you for a few seconds, but the pressure building inside of you, desperate for this moment again after months, isn’t giving you a choice to savor it. “Fish—fuckfuckfuckfuckFUCK! ‘M not gonna last!"

He growls excitedly, driving his cock more harshly into you, reaching that special spot he’s decided is only his to abuse. “It’s okay, babygirl. You cum for me. You're always so good at it."

And you are, you really are. “OH FUCK FRANKIE!” You scream. Your body agreeing with him so much that your abrupt orgasm squeezes around him so hard, his movements stop altogether.

“Oh shit—“ he hisses, your pussy greedily milking the cum right out of him. He only pauses for a moment, shaking over you for a moment as his first orgasm subsides before his hips are moving of their own accord, his cum forced out with each thrust.

“Keep goin’, pretty thing. Give me more,” he grunts. 

You nod deliriously, eyes rolled to the back of your skull as he pounds your battered puussy.

He pulls out, the sudden withdrawal making you whine with emptiness. He sinks to his knees again, yanking your knees up to your chest. Your pussy twitches, his cum spilling out and sinking down your ass.

He lets out of primal groan from the back of his throat before smashing his mouth on your cunt, sucking your clit and tongue fucking your hole like a cream filled pastry. You feel the descending bob of his Adam’s apple against your rear as he swallows the mixture of your cum, drinking it like liquid life from the source. “We taste—so—fucking—good, Princesa,” he taunts, tongue lapping your little clit in quick succession before shaking his head back and forth aggressively against your mound, smearing the obscene mixture across your folds and making a mess.

Oh fuck, he’s so gone.

He quickly gets on his knees, turning you over on your stomach like you weigh nothing. His hands grip around your hips, bringing them flush against his crotch again as you arch your back for him. He puts his palm on the small of your back, keeping you right there, pressed tight against him as his cock slides back into your eager and cum coated cunt.

“Fuck yeah,” he groans, setting a faster pace this time. You hadn't realized just how much Frankie was holding back the first time you had sex. He leans over your body, hands splayed past your shoulders, fisting the bed as he rails you deep, his thighs crashing against you with harsh slaps. Your temple lands against his cheek, meeting eye contact. He smiles, breath caught in his throat like running a mile at your fucked out expression. 

He continues to fuck you like an animal. A soft hand grips your chin lovingly, tilting your head further back so his lips meet yours with each punishing grind. You’re surprised by how much you love the hold he has on you, willingly submitting to him without being told. Drunk on each other’s lust.

You suck greedily around his tongue, hand reaching behind the two of you to play with his soft brown curls, refusing to let him leave your mouth. He stutters with a few more thrusts before halting, eyes scrunched closed. “AUUGHHH—haaaahh!” You feel the twitch of him inside you, draining his balls some more of his plentiful seed. 

“Fuck, fuck I love it when you cum inside me!” You confess. The action makes you fall forward, mouth burying into his pillows as you muffle your own cry of your release again.

He pulls out of you and flops to the bed. You think maybe he is done, after having cum twice now, bur Frankie is quick to bring you to straddle him, his dick never once softening as it presses incessantly to your entrance again. He licks his lips, watching his cum spill down your thighs, right to his creamy cock that refuses to fully part from you. 

“Frankie,” you moan, unsure if you can take him again.

“Want you just like this. Ride me,” he breathes. He’s covered in sweat, out of breath and shaking with a mix of exhaustion and adrenaline if it were possible. His hands gently wrap around your waist as he guides you. Eyes so lidded, transfixed on the area where your mound slowly swallows him again.

You’re nodding, body taking over all actions, completely starved for the man under you. 

He leans up to get a good look at you, taking it slow, burning this in head to remember.

"Thought about you... everyday.” He whispers, mouth parted in lust, gliding your hips along with steady rolls. “Couldn't sleep."

His hands down along the curve of your ass, to your thighs spread out over him, before rubbing up the length of your back, holding you as close to him as he can possibly bring you, your tits pressing against his chest. He struggles to breathe evenly as your creamy pussy continues to tighten around him each time he breaches you, the two of you moaning softly into each others’ open mouths. He occasionally catches your lips, slotting perfectly as you grind against him.

His mouth finds its way back down to your pebbled nipple, biting gently before kissing it better. He brings his face back to yours. “So perfect for me,” he whispers.

You start grinding on him more fervently, lifting yourself on your knees ever slightly and baring down on him. He grits his teeth, sinking further down into the bed, eyes never leaving you as his digs his nails into the meat of your hips, forcing you to bounce harder. 

“That’s it, baby. Ride me just like that. MY girl, my beautiful girl.”

You bite your lips, feelings your clit catch on his public hairs. The sloppy squelching of his cum being driven out of your heat by his thick cock is no match to the heavenly sounds you were making atop him. The vein in his neck strains like he’s suffocating himself from air, refusing to slow down, to take a break, to let go for even just a moment.

“More. Give me more,” you moan, confidence soaring as you feel him begin to meet your hips with every thrust. “I want all of you, Frankie.”

He shouts out, lifting you up, his feet digging into mattress as he fucks you from below. “Fuck, fuck!”

You want to throw your head back, ride out this high, but the dangerous allure of him watching you brings your focus down to him, watching the way the two of you are getting off to the other falling apart.

“Just like this. You n’ me. Want it just like this. Forever.” He mumbles repeatedly, ragged pants uneven as he fills you the way you had been unknowingly wanting for months.  

You feel the build of your umpteenth orgasm building in your lower tummy. “Frankie-F-Franke! I’m—I’m gonna—“

“Do it, Querida, do it f-for me.” He thinks he can starve off the low build of his third orgasm of the night, just enough to make you cum for him once more.

You feel the heavy knot in your stomach snap. With absolutely no hesitation, no doubt behind your word, you cry out, “I love you!” as you cum harder than any time before.

Lifting you both practically off the bed, Frankie’s hips seize, pressed so tightly against yours there was no room between you. He shouts loudly, animalistic, snarling with his teeth baring at you and 0 control left in him, immediately emptying his load deep inside with each heavy pulse of his cock against your cervix, painting your walls white with the last of his cum that his balls could give you.

You collapse on top of him, the two of you sucking  air like you were underwater for years. Neither of you say anything, covered in sweat and cum, but finally being able to relax from the pent up release that’s been building there far longer than it ever should have been.

His hand rests against your lower back, somehow pressing your naked body closer to his. 

“I love you,” you whisper again to his collarbone. He brings your eyes to his, and this time he knows you mean it.

-

Frankie wakes to a cold bed.

His arm reaches out subconsciously for your body, but only feels cool empty sheets at his side. His eyes fly open, head sitting upright as he scans his bedroom. There's no sign of you. None of your clothes are scattered on the floor, no immediate trace of your scent. He feels a strong pain in his chest suffocating and stabbing him all at once.

He lies back flat on his pillow, fingers rubbing his forehead. He has two thoughts: the first thought, the one he'd rather think is true, is that it was all dream. You hadn't come home to him.

Before he could bring himself to consider the pain of the second thought, the fear is instantly squashed when he hears the door creak open, your sweet soft smile and gentle eyes landing on him.

‘Hiiiii,” you whisper in a singsong, gentle morning voice. Tip toeing bare foot on the hardwood floor, he see’s you’re dressed in nothing but one of Frankies slightly torn over sized, faded band T shirts that swallows your body. Your bed head still evident, eyes baggy yet happy from the events of last night.

He didn't realize he had held his breath the moment before you walked in, afraid that rather than having dreamt it all, that it did happen, and you had left him anyway.

"I made you tea," you hummed, setting the two cups down by his bedside table.

Your ears go red at the image of him: sheet pulled half way up his hip, his bare chest and torso visible as he props himself up with his elbows to get a good look at you. And the WAY he's looking at you, like you’re the only thing that matters in the world, has you sheepishly avoiding his big brown pupils, sliding in to the covers and nuzzling your head against his shoulder.

He wraps his arms around you, unwilling to let you sneak off again. “Don’t wake up before me like that again.”

You giggle. “Frankie, it’s 4 in the afternoon.” 

He checks his digital clock by the bed, true to your word. You both had fucked so hard, so long last night that he didn’t even realize it was well into the morning by the time you had drifted to sleep. 

He lies back down in bed, encircling you to him again. He can more clearly see the damage of last night’s episode on you: bite marks along your tits, hickies against your inner thighs and swollen lips. he doesn’t even need to touch your pussy, feeling its puffy soreness pressing against his leg. He kisses you gently yet passionately this morning, cradling your head so you can’t back away. Not that you want to—he doesn’t feel any resistance in your movements as you devour his lips. 

“I love you,” he says clearly. He can feel the way your breath hitches, the blush on your cheeks at the confession. “I love you, and I’m so sorry it took me so long to say it. I’m sorry I caused you so much confusion and I—“

“Okay, Fish. It’s okay. I know.” You bite your lip, pushing your hand against his chest so that he’s lying down on his back. “But I’m not sure I forgive you just yet.”

A brief moment of confusion wracks his face before you’re clambering on top of him again, your naked lower body straddling his under the sheet. You fist the t shirt of your head, letting your soft supple breasts fall. Frankie immediately grabs them tenderly with both of his warm hands, his breath quickening. His length twitches, hard as a rock and pressing right against his lower stomach as you glide your slick folds along him.

“I think you should keep making it up to me.” You align the tip of his throbbing cock against your swollen entrance and sink down, hands seeking purchase on his chest, scratching the skin there as he fills your sore cunt, taking him down to the hilt in one go.

You let out the tiniest, sexiest whimper, and Frankie is ready to drop everything he’s ever owned just to hear it again. So smitten with you, he’s grinning harder than he has his entire life. Like a big dumb idiot.

Your big dumb idiot.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Querida: I love you.”

Tagging people who either requested a part 2/3 or directly requested to be tagged. At least what i can remember (sorry if I missed you!)

- - - -

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[nahoney22]

Hey :) I Hope this isn’t too late but I have a fic proposal.

Clones should have a lot of scars and propbably some insecurities, considering that to most people they meet they are ‚just clones‘. I was thinking about a female reader worshipping either Hunter’s or Wolffes/Echoes (I love my grumpy men) body. I think it is a cute idea to make them feel appreciated and loved. It can be NSFW or SFW, whatever mood you’re in.

I also have seen the prompts „i'm not scared of anything except losing you“ and  „ I am truly and unconditionally in love with you“ . They don’t have to be included tho

Congrats on 4k followers! You deserve it so much Honey

Byee

4000 Prompt List Celebration

Wolffe X F!Reader

SFW

word count: 937 words

prompts:

“I’m not scared of anything except losing you.”

“I am truly and unconditionally in love with you.”

warnings: Angst and fluff, cuddling, talks of war and scars, light angst, female reader, established relationship, comfort, shirtless Wolffe, Spoilers for the latest episodes (6&7).

authors note: well seeing as we saw Wolffe so recently it’s only fair I pick this request. Sorry for the wait and hope you enjoy anon 🤍

You awaken to the subtle shift of your bed dipping, drawing you from the haze of dreams. A gentle breeze hints at an open balcony, likely your Commander's doing.

You shift, eyes flicking to the chrono on your bedside table that reads the early hours of the morning before rolling onto you right, facing him.

He’s silent, usual. Shirtless, also a common sight, yet his shoulders bear an unusual weight. "Darling," your voice rasps with sleep, "is everything alright?"

He remains silent, a restless energy vibrating through him as his knee bounces with an unspoken tension. As your hand finds its place on the center of his bare back, a calming touch, his movements still, tension melting away.

"I saw Rex today," he finally speaks, the words carrying a weight you hadn't anticipated.

Your eyes widen, and you sit up abruptly. "Rex? I thought he died in a crash!" The unexpected revelation catches you off guard.

When things took a turn for a worse, you were discarded by this new ‘Empire’ yet Wolffe remained. Your relationship was a secret of course and things had been hard for the both of you. You didn’t agree with these new terms and what Wolffe was doing yet he felt obliged to do his duty. To be a good soldier.

Yet, at nights like this where he would sneak into your home when he should be in his own barracks, you always felt the heavy burden of whatever it was weighing on him.

"So did I... but there he was," he sighs, moonlight casting an ethereal glow on his cybernetic eye and scar. "A deserter, harboring a target the Empire seeks."

Your heartbeat quickens, anxiety gripping your thoughts. "You didn't harm him, did you?"

"No," he responds, a low rumble. "I let him go."

In a hushed tone, you respond, "Oh, well that’s a relief,” as you shift onto your knees directly behind him, offering a supportive presence.

Anticipating a bitter retort, you're surprised when he merely sighs, his head bowing as he falls into a contemplative silence.

Observing his stillness, your eyes trace a new wound on his back, joining the collection of scars. "How did this happen?" you inquire softly, your finger gently tracing the red mark destined to become another scar over time.

"Who knows? Falling from a cliff, getting shot by a civilian, crushed by rocks," he grumbles dismissively.

Moving closer, you delicately wrap your arms around his front, resting your cheek against his back. "Are you in pain?" you inquire, concern lacing your words.

He shakes his head, his hands finding yours to convey appreciation for the comfort. Though not one to seek coddling, the weight of the day has left him in need of solace. "No."

In a moment of necessary silence, a sudden wave of insecurity overtakes him. "Does it uh... look bad?" he hesitates, seeking reassurance.

"The wound?" you clarify.

He nods.

"No."

"Are you lying to me?"

"Wolffe," you interject firmly, gently squeezing his hands, "you know I wouldn't lie to you. We've discussed this. I promise it doesn't look bad."

His jaw tightens, a brief struggle visible on his face, but then he relaxes, allowing your words to penetrate. The scar on his face, a constant reminder, had often made him feel exposed and unattractive. Yet, your consistent reassurances that you saw him differently provided a balm for his insecurities.

“Each scar tells a story, a battle won,” you whisper, kissing his new wound as well as the small scars that littered the rest of his back and what you could see, “a battle lost…” He closes his eyes, knowing what scar you were referring to but allows you to continue. “You’re handsome. Nothing will ever change that or how I love you.”

He bites on the inside of his cheek, his face warming up by the softness of your lips against his skin in the moonlight and your sweet words that had him hooked from the start.

"Are you scared?" you suddenly inquire, and he turns his head, prompting you to move back while still maintaining the embrace. "That they'll find out you let the target get away?"

"I'm not scared of anything," he asserts with stern resolve, but a softness overtakes his expression. "Except losing you."

You offer a soft smile, leaning in to press your lips to his cheek. "Sweet, but I'm serious. Are you not concerned?"

His brow furrows, a hint of reluctance coloring his response. "I won't lie and say I'm not apprehensive. Kark, it wouldn't surprise me if they're already looking for me to reprimand. Or worse."

A twist of unease settles in your stomach, his words weighing heavily on your mind. Tears glisten in your eyes, and he realises his misstep. Without hesitation, he shifts to fully face you, reclining on the bed with his back against the headboard, pulling you close to his chest. "Let's not dwell on that. I'm sorry for waking you."

You roll your eyes at his attempt to deflect the gravity of the situation, but decide to take comfort in his presence for now.

As the soft sound of your snores fills the room, he finds solace in your embrace. He strokes your hair tenderly, a soft smile gracing his lips as he watches you succumb to sleep. "Beautiful girl," he murmurs, a sentiment he wouldn't express while you're awake, not one for overt displays of affection.

Before slipping away into the night, he leans down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead, his voice barely above a whisper. "I am truly and unconditionally in love with you."

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[levisolace]

[7] Expendable Hearts (Levi x F!Reader)

Chapter 7: The Breakup

WC: 9,089 Chapter Warnings: tiniest bit of steamy but bigger angst Summary: Everyone in Levi's life knows he only ever dated one girl and that she left him wrecked, bitter, and heartbroken. Many years later, she's back in his life and he doesn't know what to do. Note: Hi, I am back again. I know I said we might have smut this chapter but it didn't really feel right for it lol. Honestly, not very satisfied with the chapter but I hope you like it!

story masterlist | prev chapter > next chapter

When you woke up, the unfamiliar warmth of soft sheets and the faint scent of something unmistakably Levi brought you to a sudden clarity. This wasn’t your apartment. You blinked, taking in your surroundings—the room was dimly lit, with soft morning light filtering through the curtains. Levi’s apartment. The realization settled slowly, like ripples spreading across water.

You sat up, your head heavy with a dull ache from last night’s drinks, and as you took in the stillness of the room, memories from the last night washed over you. You groaned in annoyance with yourself. How could you let this happen? When had you been careless enough to be that drunk?

The last seven years have taken you far away from this part of your life. Perhaps it was the absence that lowered your alcohol tolerance. Perhaps it was Hange’s mix. You don’t know and you don’t remember. Well, you do remember Levi arriving and helping you in fragments.

Last night was different. There had been warmth in Levi’s touch when he carried you to his bed, something almost tender in the way he looked at you, even if only for a moment. You don’t remember anything after passing out on the bed, hopefully that was the only thing you did. He was nowhere to be seen, and as you sat there on the bed pondering, the soft creaks and sounds of the apartment settling only heightened the absence of him.

You pulled the blanket tighter around your shoulders, feeling the coolness of the morning air against your skin, protected by the fabric of Levi’s jacket. The comfort of Levi’s presence last night had been undeniable, but now, is it bad of you to hope that the tension between you two had finally subsided? 

You stood, making the bed carefully and neatly, and made your way to the doorway. In the living room, Levi was sleeping on the single sofa, arms crossed over his chest, his head slightly tilted to the side. 

He looked… worn. Even in sleep, his body held tension, his jaw slightly clenched, arms crossed over his chest like he was still defending himself from some unseen battle. His head had tipped awkwardly to the side, and the shadows under his eyes were deep, telling the story of someone who didn’t rest easily. You remembered how he never had good sleeping habits—his insomnia was something he never spoke about in detail, but you had seen its effects more times than you could count.

Crouching down, you looked at him more closely. His sleep was shallow, restless, as if even in unconsciousness, his mind couldn’t fully let go. There were faint signs of exhaustion etched across his face—the slight crease between his brows, the constant tension in his hands, the weariness that clung to him like a second skin. 

You thought back to when you were together, the nights when you’d wake up and find him sitting at the edge of the bed or drinking tea. He rarely slept for more than a few hours, and when he did, it was never restful. 

Now, seeing him like this—curled up on that too-small sofa, lost somewhere between exhaustion and restlessness—it hit you how much Levi had endured. His eyes, which always carried that sharpness, were softer in sleep, but the strain remained. The man who was always composed, always in control, seemed fragile in these stolen moments of rest.

“…when the breakup happened, Levi didn’t take it well.”

Kuchel’s words rang in your head, settling a frown on your face. You watched him breathe, the steady rise and fall of his chest, your hand hovering close to him but not touching. This was Levi—strong, guarded, and yet so painfully human underneath it all. Seven years and this hasn’t changed for Levi. 

In this city where much has changed, you wonder what else has remained? 

Levi stirred, his brow furrowing before his eyes slowly blinked open. He blinked again, his sharp gaze instantly locking onto you crouching beside him, your face only inches away from his. His expression shifted from sleepy confusion to guarded awareness in a split second, his body tensing as though he was expecting something.

You froze, caught in the act, your breath hitching. The silence hung heavy between you, as his sleepy, narrowed eyes tried to process the situation.

“What the hell are you doing?” His voice was rough, still thick with sleep, but there was that familiar edge to it, the one that made you think he wasn’t too pleased with the unexpected proximity.

You scrambled to stand up, feeling your face flush in embarrassment. “I… I didn’t mean to wake you. You just looked…” You trailed off, unsure of how to explain why you had been crouched there watching him sleep.

He let out a slow, deep exhale, shifting his position as he sat up, rubbing the back of his neck. His eyes softened for just a moment, but his guard was quickly back up, the tired lines on his face doing little to hide his discomfort at being caught like this.

“Didn’t mean to wake me?” he repeated, voice laced with skepticism, “You’re practically breathing down my neck.”

You winced, your embarrassment deepening. “I was just… worried. You don’t look like you’ve slept much.” You couldn’t help the concern that laced your voice, remembering all the times he would wake up in the middle of the night, never admitting how little sleep he actually got.

Levi’s expression shifted slightly at your words, but he brushed it off with a dismissive grunt. “I’m fine.” He stood up, stretching his arms and rolling his shoulders, clearly trying to shake off the remnants of sleep. He was stiff, his movements betraying how uncomfortable that small sofa had been, but he didn’t say anything about it.

The awkward tension lingered between you as he ran a hand through his hair, smoothing down the disarray caused by sleep. He glanced at you again, his eyes flickering with something unreadable before he spoke, voice quieter now. “You shouldn’t stare at people when they’re asleep.”

“I’ll try to remember that,” you murmured, eyes lowering as you awkwardly shifted your weight from one foot to the other.

Levi’s gaze lingered on you for a second longer, then he sighed. “Do you want tea?” 

He walked toward the kitchen without waiting for your response, but the stiffness in his steps didn’t go unnoticed. For a few minutes, you stand there in the living room alone, a strange mix of emotions settled in your chest—relief, awkwardness, and something else. 

In the kitchen, Levi was standing by the stove with a tea cup in his hand. His back was turned to you, his posture rigid, his face unreadable. The warmth from last night seemed to have vanished, replaced by the familiar, distant version of Levi you had always struggled to understand.

He didn’t turn when he heard your footsteps, didn’t offer a greeting or acknowledge your presence in any obvious way. The silence between you was heavy, and suddenly, you felt like an intruder in a space that was no longer yours.

“Morning,” you said quietly, lingering by the doorway. Your voice sounded small, hesitant.

Levi didn’t respond immediately. He took a sip of his tea, still staring out the window. When he finally spoke, his tone was flat, almost indifferent. “Coffee or tea. Help yourself.”

The casualness of his words made your chest tighten. After last night, you had expected—maybe even hoped—for something more. You even joked a little in the car. But now, it was as though nothing had changed at all, as though the small, unspoken connection you had felt last night had dissolved with the morning light.

You stepped into the kitchen and prepared yourself a cup of tea, the clink of the cup against the counter louder than it should have been in the quiet apartment.

“I didn’t mean to impose last night,” you said softly, gripping the cup a little tighter than necessary. “Thanks for letting me stay and take the bed. It ruined your sleep.”

Levi finally glanced over at you, his expression neutral. “I told you it wasn’t a big deal. And I don’t use the bed much, anyway.”

You paused. “Do you still have trouble sleeping?”

He doesn’t answer. You took a sip of your tea, the taste of his premium tea leaves grounding you in the awkwardness of the moment. “Right,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. “No big deal.”

The two of you stood there in the kitchen, silence filling the space between you as you indulge yourself with the warm drink. 

“Levi,” you began, your voice hesitant. You weren’t even sure what you wanted to say. Maybe you wanted to ask him why he had shown up outside your apartment, why he had seemed so different last night. Or maybe you just wanted to bridge the gap between the person you used to know and the man standing in front of you now.

But before you could say more, Levi cut you off, his voice low but firm. “You should head home after tea. You’ll feel better after you rest.”

It wasn’t a harsh dismissal, but it was enough to tell you that he wasn’t ready to talk. And maybe you weren’t either. Despite feeling wrong, you nod and turn your back on him. The years apart had created a distance that couldn’t be bridged by one day. There were too many things left unsaid, too many pieces of your lives that had moved in different directions. But you should at least try to settle some things. Besides, that talk with Kuchel really got to you. 

But something inside you refused to let this be the end of the conversation. You turned back toward Levi, your voice soft but determined.

“Levi… can we—” you hesitated, trying to find the right words. “Can we talk?”

For a moment, Levi didn’t move. He stood at the counter, his back to you, gripping the cup in his hands. The air between you grew heavy, thick with unspoken things. When he finally turned, his face was calm, but there was something in his eyes that betrayed him—an intensity you hadn’t expected.

“Talk?” he repeated, his voice low. It wasn’t sharp, but there was a weight to it. “About what?”

The directness of his question hit you harder than you expected. You took a deep breath, steadying yourself.

 “I just… I know things didn’t end well between us. And I want to know if we can…” You faltered, not quite sure how to finish the sentence. What were you asking for? Friendship? Closure?

Levi raised an eyebrow, leaning back against the counter. He looked tired, as though this conversation was something he’d been bracing for, but also something he didn’t want to face. “You want to fix things? Is that it?”

“I don’t know if it’s about fixing things,” you admitted softly, shifting your weight awkwardly. “I just… I don’t want things to be like this between us anymore.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, as though he was trying to figure out what you really meant. He let out a breath, setting the cup down on the counter with a soft clink. “You think we can just… talk and things will magically be fine again?”

You shook your head, stepping a little closer. “No. But we could at least try to talk about it.”

Levi’s expression didn’t change much, but you could see his jaw tightening. “You left without a word,” he said quietly, the frustration finally seeping through. “Didn’t even say goodbye. And now you want to talk?”

The pain in his voice was subtle, but it was there, cutting deeper than you had expected. 

You understand now that time doesn’t heal everything for everyone. If Levi, the kind person that you know he is, still holds a grudge against you like this, you must’ve hurt him immensely. If you were still as closed off as you were, you would’ve told him off for this as you did back when you first saw each other. 

But now, you flinched, swallowing hard. “I didn’t leave because of you, Levi,” you started, your voice wavering. “It wasn’t like that.”

“Then what was it like?” he asked, crossing his arms. He wasn’t angry—at least, not in the way he usually was when something upset him. He just looked… tired. Tired of this, tired of you bringing it up.

You looked down, your hands fidgeting at your sides. “I left because I needed to figure things out for myself. My future. My career. It wasn’t about us—”

Levi scoffed, shaking his head, cutting you off. “It was always about us. Don’t act like it wasn’t.”

His words stung, and your chest tightened. “That’s not fair,” you whispered, but even as you said it, you knew he wasn’t entirely wrong. You had left to chase something more for yourself, but in doing so, you had severed ties without even explaining. The guilt that had lingered for so long resurfaced, leaving you feeling exposed.

Levi took a step forward, his voice quiet but firm. “You just left, like what we had didn’t matter. Like I didn’t matter.”

You wanted to argue, to defend yourself, but your throat tightened, choking back the words. You remembered how things ended between you—how, instead of explaining yourself, you’d shut him out completely. You’d thought it would be easier that way. You were wrong.

“I thought… I thought you’d be fine without me,” you said, your voice breaking slightly. 

Levi’s expression darkened, his fists clenching. “You thought I’d be fine?” His voice was sharp now, but it was the kind of sharpness that came from hurt, not anger. “You think it was that easy?”

You couldn’t meet his gaze, the weight of his words sinking deep into your chest. “I’m sorry, Levi. I didn’t know how to stay. I didn’t know how to…”

I didn’t know how to be enough.

Levi’s frustration flared again, but there was something else in his eyes now—something raw and vulnerable beneath the subtle anger. 

“Because I wasn’t enough for your dreams,” he snapped. “You left without looking back, like I wasn’t enough to make you stay. And now that you learn I’m successful, you want to make amends?”

You opened your mouth to respond, to explain, but the words got caught in your throat. The accusation lingered in more of an offensive way but at the same time, you get him. How could you explain something that had been eating away at you for so long? It angers and pains you that he thinks of you this way. But what can he do when it was your own fault that he had this image of you? 

“I… I’m sorry,” you said softly, your voice breaking. What were you saying sorry for? A million things. Two words are nearly not enough for your regrets and mistakes. “It’s not like that.” “You keep saying that,” he stepped closer to you, face inches away from yours. “You keep saying it wasn’t like that but I’m not hearing the explanation.” "I know it hurt you. But… it was never about us, not like you think. I just—" She faltered, trying to hold his gaze. "I didn’t know how else to handle things back then. Couldn’t we at least try to find some middle ground?" 

Levi stared at you, his breathing heavy, his frustration mounting, as if what you asked of him was what triggered his anger. He opened his mouth to speak but no words came out of him, as if he was too speechless and offended.

And then, without warning, he moved. In one swift motion, he closed the distance between you, hands caging in on your face. You barely had time to react before his lips crashed against yours, silencing whatever you had been about to say.

It was intense, almost desperate, as if he was pouring all his pent-up emotions into that single moment.

It wasn’t gentle, and it wasn’t tender. The kiss was filled with everything unsaid, all the anger, the longing, the pain that had built up between you over the years. His grip loosened almost instantly as if he was giving you the chance to push him away, his other hand finding the small of your back loosely. Your mind went blank, your heart racing as you responded instinctively, your body betraying the emotions you’d been trying to suppress. You kissed him back with as much passion, a hand shooting up to rest on his shoulder.

With acceptance on your part, he presses his hand on your back, pushing your bodies closer together. Hands roamed your body, tracing the curves of your hips and the small of your back. He pressed you against the wall, his body flush against yours, as he deepened the kiss. His tongue teased the seam of your lips, seeking entrance, and when you granted it, he explored your mouth with a hunger that left you breathless.

Levi’s hands slid up your body, his fingers tangling in your hair as he angled your head to gain better access. He kissed you like a man possessed, like he was trying to memorize every inch of your mouth, every sensation, every taste. It was overwhelming, consuming, and you found yourself responding in kind, your own desire rising to meet his.

For a moment, the world around you disappeared, and it was just the two of you—caught in a storm of emotions neither of you had been able to express. When Levi finally pulled away, his breathing was ragged, his forehead resting against yours.

“You don’t get to walk back into my life like nothing happened,” he whispered, his voice rough, his eyes still closed. “But I’ll accept your apology if you tell me one thing.”

You stared at him, stunned, your lips still tingling from the force of the kiss. “Levi…” you whispered, your voice trembling, unsure of what to say. You had expected an argument, maybe a cold rejection, but not this. Not the raw, unchecked passion that had just erupted between you.

You took a shaky breath, steadying yourself as the silence stretched between you. The intensity of Levi’s kiss still lingered on your lips, but you knew this moment couldn’t end like this—without clarity, without addressing the feelings that had been left festering for years. You weren’t sure how to navigate the conversation ahead, but you knew it needed to happen.

“Why did you leave?” His voice was low, steady, but you could hear the anger simmering underneath.

You froze. You knew this question was coming, had expected it, but now that it was here, you felt the weight of it crush your chest. You opened your mouth to answer, but no words came out at first. The real answer—the full answer—felt too dangerous, too raw.

“I… I needed space,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I needed to figure out things. I wasn’t ready for everything that was happening. I wasn’t ready for us…”

Levi’s eyes darkened, and you could see the frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “That’s not the whole truth,” he said, his voice sharp. “You left without a word, without even explaining. And now you expect me to believe it was just because you ‘needed space?’”

You flinched at his words, but you didn’t have an answer that would satisfy him. He wasn’t wrong. There was more to why you left, but the truth felt like too much to bear right now. “It’s complicated, Levi. I—I can’t explain everything. Not yet.”

“Not yet?” Levi’s voice rose, his anger spilling over. “You’ve had years to figure it out, and you still can’t give me a real answer? After everything?” His voice echoed in your mind, the accusation laced with disbelief. 

You didn’t know what answer he wanted, what answer could ever fix the damage that had been done. You had thought about this moment a thousand times before—imagined what you might say, how you might explain why you left, why you didn’t say goodbye, why you broke his heart without looking back. But now, standing here, with his anger burning in the space between you, the words you’d rehearsed felt hollow.

His next words cut deeper. “You ran,” he said, and you flinched, the truth of it like a slap. “You always run when things get hard.” You felt your pulse quicken, the weight of his words pressing down on your chest, making it hard to breathe. He wasn’t wrong. You did run. You ran from him, from the life you thought you couldn’t have, from the overwhelming fear that you weren’t enough, that you couldn’t hold it all together.

“You know what Hange told me when she first saw you again? You cried. You cried in her arms like a child. Don’t expect me to believe that meant nothing but missing a friend.” 

You closed your eyes, remembering the moment you saw Hange again. The way everything you had been holding in, all the grief and guilt, came rushing out the moment she hugged you. It wasn’t just missing a friend—it was the overwhelming realization that you hadn’t let yourself feel anything for so long. You had locked it all away, telling yourself that it was better this way, that you were stronger alone. But seeing Hange again had broken the dam. You had cried because, for the first time in years, you realized how much emotions you’ve been hiding away. And in that moment, you realized just how much you missed the people you had left behind—how much you missed the old you. 

“You always run when things get hard. And you always leave me behind like I don’t matter.” Hearing him say it out loud—it crushed you in ways you hadn’t expected. Because he wasn’t wrong. You had left him behind, not just physically, but emotionally.

That stung. “That’s not true,” you snapped back, your voice trembling. Deep inside, you know he’s right. But you didn’t want to accept it. You’ve put on multiple walls for the past seven years and even before that. You don’t know how to accept yourself and that’s the truth. But he never meant nothing to you. Not in the slightest. 

“I’m the one lying?” Levi’s voice was filled with disbelief. 

You didn’t want to admit it to Levi—not now, not when he was standing there, looking at you with so much anger, with so much pain—but he was right. You had left him behind like he didn’t matter, even though he had been the only thing that mattered for so long. You couldn’t deny that, no matter how much you wanted to.

But what could you say to him now? What could you possibly tell him that would make this any better? The truth was too complicated, too messy. You had run because you didn’t know what else to do. You didn’t know how to stay, how to let him in. And now, all these years later, you still didn’t have the answers he deserved.

You could feel the conversation spiraling, slipping out of control. The more Levi spoke, the more you could feel the anger and hurt from both sides surfacing. “I didn’t know what else to do!” you shot back, your voice louder now, matching his intensity. “I thought it was the right thing at the time.”

“Well, it obviously wasn’t!” Levi shouted, stepping closer to you, his eyes burning with frustration. “You didn’t give me a choice. You just insulted me and let me figure it out on my own.”

The words hit you like a slap in the face, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. The air was thick with the weight of everything that had been left unsaid for years. You could see the pain in Levi’s eyes, but beneath it all, there was still something else—something vulnerable that he was trying to hide.

You opened your mouth to speak, to try and explain again, but before you could get a word out, Levi grabbed you. His hand gripped your arm, and in an instant, his lips were on yours—rough, urgent, cutting off whatever you were about to say again. 

“Stop it,” he said, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race. “Stop making excuses or I’m going to kiss you again.”

Your breath caught in your throat. His words hung in the air, and the tension between you was palpable. The heat of the moment was overwhelming, his nearness pulling you in despite everything. 

“It’s your choice,” he repeats.

You searched his face, trying to find the right words, something that would break through the anger and pain, but the look in his eyes made it clear he wasn’t in the mood for more of your excuses and vague words.

“Levi…” you whispered, but before you could say anything more, he tilted his head slightly, his gaze dropping to your lips, the threat of another kiss looming between you. You knew he meant every word, and the intensity of it all made your heart pound even harder.

His voice was rough, but there was something raw beneath it, something unspoken that you couldn’t ignore. “I’m serious. One more excuse, and I won’t stop myself.”

You swallowed hard, torn between the instinct to push him away and the undeniable pull that still lingered between you. The anger and hurt were still there, but so was everything else—the longing, the lust.

The room felt smaller, the space between you shrinking as Levi’s words echoed in your mind. The look in his eyes dared you to say something more, but the weight of everything kept you silent. And maybe it was the way he had already kissed you two times that you yearned for more. 

Maybe it was how he looked awfully beautiful in his in-house morning clothes. Maybe it was the way his lips looked soft enough as a pillow that you want to lie on. Maybe you just missed his touch that you weren’t able to think straight. Maybe it was the pain—the longing that threw all the rationalities out of the window. 

“Kiss me again.” 

Levi’s eyes widened for a moment, a flash of pain across his glossy eyes until it was replaced by clouded lust. 

He leaned in with his eyes closed, eyebrows furrowed and jaw clenched, as if he was fighting his own desires. You almost flinch when his head drops on your shoulder, subtly nuzzling his nose on the skin of your neck.

“Then at least tell me this,” he mutters. “Are you really okay now?”

Tears fill your eyes and you let out a deep exhale.

“Yes,” I whisper while nodding, looking straight ahead. “Yes, I am.” 

And that wasn’t a lie. He knows that.

With a soft groan, he leans in, capturing your lips in a deep, passionate kiss. 

His tongue dances with yours, his hand sliding up your back to cup your head, pulling you even closer. His other hand moves to your waist, his fingers gripping your hips as he deepens the kiss. 

You start letting out soft grunts as if trying to tell him how pleasurable it is for you, as he latches his lips to the curve of your neck. You gasp for air when he sucks on your sensitive skin, only the ceiling in sight as your eyes roll to the back of your head. It had you holding on his shoulder for dear life.

"Levi," you moan, shivering and grasping at his hair as he attacks your neck with open-mouth kisses. Levi nips at your jaw next, harsh as if he was devouring you.

His roaming hands finally made their way to your chest, palm over your breast. He squeezes once, slowly but hard. Realizing your shirt was getting in the way, his hand slips inside the skin tight cloth to the clasp of your bra. 

And then he freezes. 

As if he was thrown ice-cold water, he pulls away. He stumbled back a step, his breathing uneven, his eyes wide in shock. His gaze flickered between you and the space between you, as though he was trying to make sense of the moment. You stare back at him, breathless and probably looking like a mess. 

You blink, your own breathing labored, and the reality of what just happened hit you like a wave. 

You continued to stare at him, the weight of the situation pressing down on you. The tension that had been building, the unspoken emotions, the years of unresolved feelings—it had all come to a head in that kiss. And now you were both standing there, stunned by the gravity of what had just happened.

Levi ran a hand through his hair, his jaw clenched. His usual composed self had cracked, and you could see the confusion and regret warring in his eyes. He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again, shaking his head slightly as if he couldn't find the right words.

The silence was unbearable. You wanted to say something, anything, to break the tension, but nothing came out. You just stood there, your heart pounding in your chest, realizing that the line between you and Levi had just been blurred in a way you hadn't anticipated.

Levi finally broke the silence, his voice rough and barely above a whisper. "I... Sorry." His eyes dropped to the floor, as if he couldn't bring himself to look at you. “I think we got carried away.” 

You couldn't find your voice, your mind still reeling. You knew he was right—this wasn't supposed to happen. But it had.

And now everything feels even more complicated than ever before.

When are you going to make the right decision?

Levi’s grip on the counter was tight, his knuckles white, as if holding onto something solid could stop the whirlwind of emotions spinning inside him. His broad back was tense, shoulders stiff like he was bracing himself for something. You watched him, feeling the weight of the silence between you both, the air thick with everything left unsaid. The view of his back reminded you too much of that night—the night you walked away, leaving him with his heart shattered, and now here you were again, uncertain, fragile.

Your heart raced in your chest, waiting, praying for him to break the silence. You needed him to speak, to say something, anything to ground you in the moment, to pull you away from the memories. Then, after what felt like an eternity, his voice broke the quiet, low and careful.

“I can offer friendship,” `he said, his voice strained, as if the words were dragging out of him. “Slowly. If you want it.”

Your stomach twisted at his offer. Friendship. The idea felt both like a lifeline and a blade. After everything, all the history, the love, the pain, he was offering you the safety of friendship because that’s what Levi did—he built walls to protect what was left of himself. You could hear the fear behind his words, the hesitation, like he was terrified of opening himself up to you again. And yet, part of you understood. Starting over felt impossible; you’d both been broken by what happened, and it scared him just as much as it scared you.

You swallowed hard, your voice barely a whisper as you spoke. “Is that what you want?”

His shoulders shifted slightly, but he didn’t turn to face you. “I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice almost too quiet. “But I know I can’t… risk everything again. Not right now.”

His words stung, but you couldn’t blame him. The kiss had stirred things up, emotions both of you had buried long ago, and now you were both standing on the edge of something dangerous, something you weren’t sure either of you could survive if it went wrong again.

You took a shaky breath, your mind racing as you tried to make sense of what you wanted. Did you want friendship? Could you even be just friends with him after everything? The thought seemed impossible. But maybe he was right. Maybe it was all either of you could handle right now.

“Okay,” you whispered, unsure if you meant it, but needing to say something. “Friends, then.”

Levi exhaled sharply, like he’d been holding his breath the entire time, but he still didn’t turn around. The silence stretched on again, heavy with the weight of everything left unspoken between you. You could feel it in the air—the unresolved hurt, the lingering desire, and now this fragile truce you were trying to build, one step at a time.

The sight of his back still haunted you, a reminder of all the ways you’d hurt him before. But this time, as painful as it was, you stayed. You weren’t walking away. Not again.

You stepped closer but not approaching him entirely, careful not to break the chance given to you. You don’t know what to do with yourself—how to step outside yourself. But you were willing to try.

“I’ll make it up to you, Levi,” you whispered, loud enough for him to hear. 

Those words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of promises that neither of you knew if you could keep. The truth was, you didn’t know how you’d make it up to him. How could you? After everything that had happened, after all the years you’d spent apart, it felt impossible to bridge the distance between you. But you had to try. He was giving you this—friendship, the smallest of openings—and you would take it, even if it hurt. Because it was Levi.

Levi, the one person who had meant more to you than anyone else.

And now, standing in his kitchen, the same man who had once been your entire world was offering you a lifeline, even if it was wrapped in his own fear and hesitation. You could feel his reluctance, the way he was trying to protect himself from being hurt again. But you could also sense the vulnerability beneath it all, the part of him that still cared, despite everything.

You didn’t expect him to answer right away. Levi was always slow to speak when it came to his feelings. He wasn’t the type to lay everything out in the open. You knew that about him. But still, the longer the silence stretched on, the more anxious you became. Maybe you had said the wrong thing. Maybe he didn’t believe you could make it up to him. Maybe he didn’t believe in second chances.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he spoke, his voice low and controlled, though you could hear the cracks in his composure. “Alright. Make it up to me.”

Levi felt her drifting away. 

It was in the middle of the last semester before they graduated. Obviously, their schedules were hectic. She was barely around to study with him. Before, even if they were as busy as this, they would find time to be together, and even if they were not remotely doing anything romantic per se, they were still together, spending time and feeling each other’s warmth. Levi couldn’t even keep up with what she’s doing anymore, always running around somewhere he doesn’t know about. Whenever he asks, you do tell him but it’s not like he could force you to stop. Before he knew it, things were piling up on him too. 

That night, Levi hadn’t seen you for over a week. Your conversations had become few and far between, your texts cold and distant. But he convinced himself it was just stress. You were busy; you both were. He planned a quiet evening together, something to help you both relax and remind you that everything was going to be fine.

You just needed a break, that’s what he told himself. 

So when the doorbell rang unexpectedly, his heart skipped. Maybe you’d missed him as much as he missed you. The past weeks had driven him crazy. All he wanted was to see you, to hold you, to feel like you were still okay. With him, with the two of you.

Levi opened the door, excitement barely contained in his movements. There you were, standing still and quiet on his doorstep. Without hesitation, he pulled you into a hug, a rare gesture from him, one he reserved almost entirely for you. But something was wrong. Your body was stiff, unmoving in his arms. It felt like hugging a mannequin—cold and unresponsive. It worried him but hasn't addressed it yet.

“I’m almost done cooking pasta,” he informs you, guiding you to the kitchen. You follow him quietly, grim and almost soullessly. It was time that he had enough of you looking like that. He needed to know what was on your mind.

“Baby?” he whispered, worry creeping into his voice.

He stepped back, reluctantly letting you go, his eyes scanning your face for any sign of warmth, of familiarity. But there was none. You look up to face him with an expression he didn’t recognize—cold, distant, like a stranger. His heart dropped.

Levi repeated by calling your name, this time more carefully, as if saying your name too loudly might shatter you. His voice was soft, pleading, hoping for some sign that this wasn’t what it looked like.

“Levi,” you said, but your voice was distant, detached. You said his name like it was unfamiliar, like you’d never said it before, as if you were reading it off a page.

A knot twisted in his chest. “Baby… what—are you okay?”

You closed your eyes for a moment, as if gathering strength, and when you spoke again, your words came out softly but with an edge that cut straight through him. “I… I can’t do this anymore.”

His heart sank further. “What do you mean?” His voice was calm, but inside, he was fighting the panic rising in his chest. He knew what you were saying, but he wasn’t ready to face it. As he says that, he leans on the kitchen for support for whatever you had to say.

“This,” you said, gesturing between you two. “Us. It’s not working.”

“What the fuck do you mean?” he snapped, frustration bubbling up inside him.

“Us, Levi. We’re not working,” you said quietly, but with a firmness that left no room for misunderstanding.

Levi didn’t respond at first. He just stared at the floor, the tension between you thick and heavy. You weren’t sure if he hadn’t heard you, or if he was just trying to figure out how to respond. But then, after what felt like an eternity, he spoke.

“I don’t understand,” he shook his head, his voice growing desperate. “Don’t be like that. Tell me what’s wrong. I—I’ll make it work.”

You shook your head, your expression unchanging. “You.”

“Me?” His jaw clenched, frustration and hurt swirling inside him. His voice was low, controlled, but you could hear the edge of frustration underneath. “What do you mean, me?” 

You swallowed hard, your heart racing. He can see that you were having a hard time. “I don’t see you anymore,” you said, your voice cracking just a little.

He scoffed, pushing off the counter and taking a step toward you. “Of course you don’t! You’ve been pushing me away! I’ve been trying to see you, to be with you, but you’ve shut me out. Is that all this is?” 

“No, Levi, that’s not what I meant,” you said, exasperation seeping into your voice. 

“Then what?” he demanded, his voice rising as the desperation took over. 

You hesitated, your breath shaky. “I don’t… see you in my future.”

The room fell silent. The air grew thick with the weight of your words. Levi’s eyes widened as he processed what you had just said, each word feeling like a punch to the gut.

“What?” His voice came out weak, barely above a whisper. “What?” He repeated, louder this time, his disbelief palpable.

“My plans, your plans… they don’t align,” you said softly, your gaze dropping to the floor as if the weight of the words was too much.

His jaw tightened, and he shook his head slightly.  “I’ll make them align. It’s not as hard as you think.” 

“It’s not that simple,” you replied, your voice steady, but the finality in your tone sent a shiver down his spine. 

“Yes, it is! You just don’t want to take the risk, do you? You don’t want to take a chance on us, on me.” Levi’s eyes flickered with something—hurt, anger, disappointment—it was hard to tell. 

“…No, I don’t,” you admitted after a long, agonizing pause.

A bitter laugh escaped Levi’s lips. “So that’s it, huh? You think so little of me?”

“I do,” you said, your voice unwavering. “You don’t have a plan, Levi. You’re getting a business degree because you don’t know what else to do. You don’t have dreams, not like I do. I can’t afford to take that risk with you,” you babbled on, your frustration bubbling to the surface.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” you said softly, feeling the weight of your own words crushing you. “But I can’t stay.”

His breath caught in his throat. “Have you always thought this about me? Always?”

“Yes,” you said, without hesitation.

Levi’s face hardened. He turned away from you, his back tense. “Is that why you’ve always put me last? Because you think I’m just some spoiled, grumpy brat?” 

“Yes,” you said, your tone flat, emotionless.

“So I’m supposed to believe you never loved me at all?” His voice cracked, anger and heartbreak bleeding into each word.

Levi stood still, his hands gripping the edge of the counter so tightly his knuckles turned white. For a moment, you thought he might say something—anything to make you stay. But when he turned back to face you, his eyes were cold, detached.

“No,” you whispered. “I did love you.”

Levi’s heart sunk more than it could. Did. So you don’t even love him now? He doesn’t understand. He wants you to make him understand.

“Then why?” he asked, voice trembling. “Why are you throwing us away?”

Your eyes finally lifted to meet his, and the softness in your gaze returned, just for a moment. “Because I have to. You’re the only part of my life I’m willing to let go.”

The words hung in the air like a death sentence. Levi stood frozen, his back still at you, his world crumbling around him. 

The weight of that sentence crushed him, making him feel small, insignificant, like everything he’d thought you two had built meant nothing. Out of all the things in your life—the stress, the pressure, the struggles—he was the easiest to discard. It was as if his presence, his love, had been optional all along, something you could abandon when things got too heavy. 

He had always tried to be your constant, your steady hand when everything else felt out of control. And now, hearing that he was the only part of your life you could afford to lose, he realized just how replaceable he’d been to you. It tore at him, leaving him feeling hollow and questioning whether he’d ever really mattered at all. 

But what can he do when you’ve made up your mind?

And so, even though it hurt more than he ever thought it would, he let you go.

“Fine,” he said, his voice low and bitter. “Do what you need to do.”

He just stood there, watching you go, the start of the distance between you two that would only grow as the years go on.

He could still remember that night vividly, the finality of your words sinking in as you walked out of his apartment, out of his life. He replayed every moment over and over, trying to understand where things had gone wrong. How had he not seen it coming? He thought everything was fine, maybe strained, but nothing that couldn’t be fixed. He was wrong.

Everyday went on like he was dragging his feet. You would not even look at him on campus, making it so that his schedule would not align with yours. 

Hange and Erwin were torn. They were his friend first but you had already wiggled your way into their hearts. Despite you hurting him, he hoped that it was something temporary—a lapse of judgment, one could say. So, he gestured Hange to still accompany you at times, making sure you’re eating right and taking care of yourself. Even at a distance. He believed that he could make it happen. He would just have to wait for you.

That was until you left without a trace. 

The sun had just dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows over the empty streets as Levi made his way to the bar. Erwin had called earlier, insisting they meet for drinks—something Levi had been avoiding ever since you left. It had been a few weeks since graduation, and Levi still wasn’t ready to face the world outside of his apartment, let alone his friends. But after persistent texts and missed calls, he’d finally relented. He didn’t want to talk, but maybe being with Erwin and Hange would help distract him.

As he pushed open the door to the bar, he immediately spotted them at a corner table, Hange waving him over with her usual exuberance. Erwin gave a more subdued nod, his brow slightly furrowed as he watched Levi approach. Levi sat down without a word, not bothering with the pleasantries.

“Glad you could finally make it,” Hange said with a smile, though Levi could see the concern behind her eyes. She leaned forward, resting her chin on her hands. “How’ve you been holding up?”

Levi shrugged, avoiding eye contact. “Fine.”

Hange exchanged a glance with Erwin, who leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable. “You don’t have to pretend with us, you know,” Erwin said gently, his voice calm but firm. “We know about what happened. We’ve been worried.”

Levi stiffened, his gaze dropping to the table. He hadn’t talked to anyone about the breakup. The thought of explaining how you’d left him, how you said he wasn’t part of your future, was unbearable. But Erwin wasn’t going to let it go that easily.

“Levi,” Hange said, her tone softening. “We know she’s gone.”

Levi’s stomach dropped at the sound of your name, and he finally looked up, his eyes narrowing. “What do you mean, ‘gone’?”

Hange blinked, taken aback. “You don’t know?”

“Know what?”

Erwin shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “She’s left the city, Levi.”

Levi’s heart skipped a beat, and he felt the air leave his lungs. “What?”

Hange bit her lip before leaning closer, her voice gentle but hesitant. “I went to her place. You know, to check on her. I was worried when she hadn’t been around, and… well, it’s not her place anymore. There’s someone else living there now.”

Levi’s chest tightened as the words sank in. You hadn’t just broken up with him—you’d left. Without a word. Without telling him. “What do you mean, someone else is living there?” His voice was low, almost a growl, but Hange didn’t flinch.

“I spoke to the new tenants,” she explained. “Apparently, she and her grandma moved out a while ago. Sold the place. It’s like she… disappeared.”

Levi felt a cold chill run down his spine. He had known something was wrong when you broke things off, but he hadn’t expected this. He hadn’t expected you to leave everything behind. “Why didn’t she say anything?” His voice cracked slightly, betraying the emotion he’d been trying to suppress for weeks.

Erwin sighed, his hands clasped on the table. “We don’t know, Levi. I wish we had more answers.”

Levi’s mind raced, trying to piece together what could’ve happened. He knew you’d been under a lot of stress, but he never imagined it would lead to this. Moving out of the city, selling the house you shared with your grandmother—that wasn’t just a breakup. That was cutting ties completely. Why would you do that? Why didn’t you tell him?

“I don’t understand,” Levi muttered, more to himself than to them. His thoughts were spinning out of control. The cold distance in your eyes that last night, the way you’d told him he didn’t fit into your future—it all made sense now. You had been planning this for longer than he’d realized. He’d been so focused on trying to make things work between the two of you that he didn’t see the signs of something much bigger happening in your life.

Hange leaned forward, her voice softening. “Levi, maybe… maybe there was something else going on. Something she didn’t feel like she could talk about.”

“Like what?” he snapped, but immediately regretted it. Hange didn’t deserve his anger. She was just trying to help.

Hange hesitated, glancing at Erwin again before speaking. “We don’t know. But people don’t just disappear like that for no reason.”

Levi clenched his fists, his mind going back to all the moments he had missed, the times you had pulled away or brushed him off. He thought you were just busy, just stressed about school and your future. But there had been more, hadn’t there? And he had been too blind to see it.

“She didn’t even tell me,” Levi muttered bitterly, the betrayal cutting deeper now. “She didn’t even tell me she was leaving.”

Erwin placed a hand on Levi’s shoulder, his grip firm but comforting. “That doesn’t mean she didn’t care, Levi.”

Levi shook his head, pulling away from Erwin’s touch. He couldn’t accept that right now. You had walked away from him, from everything, and hadn’t looked back. How was he supposed to believe you cared? If you had, you would’ve told him. You wouldn’t have left him here, in this city, to find out from someone else. Was he so repulsive that you would leave a city you told him you would never leave? 

The café was suddenly too quiet, too suffocating. Levi stood up abruptly, pushing his chair back. “I need some air.”

Hange opened her mouth to protest, but Erwin held up a hand, signaling her to let him go. Levi walked out of the café and into the cool night, the sounds of the city barely registering in his mind. He stood on the sidewalk, staring blankly at the passing cars, his thoughts spinning in a million directions.

You were gone. Really gone.

And for the first time since that night, it felt real. The hope he had clung to—the hope that maybe you just needed space, that maybe you would come back—it was gone. You had moved on, left the city, left him behind.

Levi pressed a hand to his chest, trying to steady his breathing. The ache in his heart was unbearable, the weight of it pressing down on him until he could barely stand. He had been fooling himself, thinking that this was something you both could fix. But it wasn’t. You were gone, and there was nothing he could do about it.

He thought back to all the times you’d talked about your future, about the things you wanted to accomplish, the life you wanted to build. He had always assumed he’d be a part of that. But now, standing on the cold street outside the bar, Levi realized that he never had been. You had left him behind long before that final conversation.

Levi ran a hand through his hair, feeling the anger and sadness churn inside him. You were meant for bigger things, and he… he was just a part of the life you left behind. He felt insignificant, like a small chapter in your story that didn’t matter anymore. And the worst part was, he couldn’t blame you for it.

The day after you left, Levi didn’t even get out of bed. He lay there staring at the ceiling, the weight of your absence pressing down on him like a lead blanket. His mind swirled with disbelief. He could still hear your voice, still feel the coldness of your touch when you said you didn’t see him in your future. It felt like his entire world had crumbled beneath him, leaving nothing but emptiness. Levi wasn’t one for breakdowns, but that morning, he didn’t have the strength to face anything. Not the day, not the world, not even himself. He was too stunned, too shattered.

Days blurred into weeks, and Levi found himself trapped in a cycle of withdrawal. He barely left his apartment, hiding away from everything that reminded him of you. His phone buzzed now and then, messages from Hange or Erwin, but he ignored them. What was there to say? He knew they would ask about you, and he wasn’t ready to explain, to admit that you were gone for good. The thought of telling anyone made him feel nauseous, like acknowledging it out loud would make it even more real than it already was.

At first, Levi convinced himself that you just needed time. That’s what he kept telling himself. Maybe you’d come back, maybe you’d realize you’d made a mistake, and things would go back to the way they were. But with each passing day, that hope dimmed until it was nothing more than a flicker in the back of his mind. You weren’t coming back.

And it was his fault, wasn’t it? He had never been good enough for you. You were destined for something bigger, something more than what he could offer. He was just… Levi. Some guy getting a degree in business because he didn’t know what else to do. He wasn’t like you, with your drive and your dreams. You’d always been so full of ambition, talking about all the things you wanted to accomplish, all the places you wanted to go. And him? He didn’t have that. He was fine with just being by your side, supporting you in whatever way he could, but he should’ve known that wasn’t enough.

Levi spent hours sitting in his living room, staring blankly at nothing in particular, the silence of his apartment suffocating. He’d barely eaten in days, and his sleep was restless, haunted by memories of you. There was still your perfume on his dresser, and every time he caught a whiff of it, his chest tightened painfully.

© levisolace. please do not copy, translate, claim any of my works. my works are cross-posted only on my ao3 account. reblogs, asks, and comments are also greatly appreciated. thank you.

[30somethingautisticteacher]

I Had a Brother

Read Part 1

****

A brother?" Tommy asked softly.

Buck's voice trembled. "D-D-Daniel. My older brother."

"Okay, so where's Daniel now?" Tommy asked, his voice gentle but uncertain.

"I...he's—" Buck started to hyperventilate, each breath coming faster than the last.

"Evan...are you alone?" When there was no answer, just ragged sobbing through the phone, Tommy's voice turned urgent. "Evan, I'm coming to you."

Buck rocked back and forth on his couch, trying to calm his breathing, but his heart felt as if it was going to leap out of his chest. Tears were streaming down his cheeks—tears he didn't deserve to shed.

The door flew open, and Tommy stood panting in the doorway, an uncertain look on his face. "Are you okay? Can I—can I sit next to you?" Buck nodded, and before Tommy could fully settle on the couch, Buck grabbed his hand and pressed into his shoulder, seeking the familiar comfort of his warmth.

They sat like that for a while, neither saying a word. It was a strange kind of silence—not uncomfortable necessarily, but unfamiliar. The kind of silence that falls between two people who seemed to move through life in sync, now unsure of where they stood with one another.

"So, uh...Daniel?" Tommy finally asked, his thumb unconsciously rubbing circles on Buck's hand.

Buck took a deep breath. "So Daniel was my older brother and he...he died."

Tommy stiffened. "Oh my God, Evan, I am so sorry. When did it happen?"

"1992," Buck said quietly.

Tommy pulled back slightly to look at him, confusion etched across his face. "1992? I feel like I'm missing something."

The question in his voice made it clear he was trying to piece together a puzzle that didn't quite fit.

"Daniel...he had leukemia. He died when I was a baby," Buck said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Oh, Evan, that's awful. You must have missed him your whole life," Tommy said softly, squeezing Buck's hand.

"Yeah, only—" Buck let out a bitter laugh. "I didn't know about him until three years ago."

Tommy's brow furrowed in confusion as Buck continued, his voice taking on a hollow tone.

"Turns out that I'm a savior sibling. Genetically engineered to save my brother's life."

"Evan," Tommy said softly, the name carrying all his concern.

"Only I Buck-ed that up too. I was literally created to save him and he died." Buck's voice cracked on the last word, the bitter self-loathing clear in his attempt at dark humor.

Tommy squeezed his thigh, staying silent but present.

"And then no one ever told me. Three years ago, Tommy. I didn't even know he existed until three years ago. I spent my whole life feeling like something was wrong. Like something was missing." Buck's words tumbled out faster now. "Like I was this cosmic mistake who wasn't supposed to exist after I failed at the one thing I was made for—a thing I didn't even know about for almost thirty years."

"You are not a mistake, Evan," Tommy said firmly, gripping Buck's hand tighter.

"Today is the anniversary of his death, and I just...I don't know." Buck's voice trailed off, heavy with a grief he wasn't sure he had the right to feel.

"I shouldn't have called. I'm not your problem anymore," Buck said, starting to pull away from Tommy's grip.

"Hey, stop that. You are still important to me," Tommy said, tightening his grip when Buck tried to pull away. The firmness in his voice left no room for argument.

"I just feel like I have no closure. I've never even been to his grave." Buck's voice cracked on the last word.

Tommy stood up suddenly, decision written across his face, and put out his hand. "Come on."

"Where are we going?" Buck asked, staring at the offered hand.

"To Pennsylvania,"

Tagging based on interest

@sunnywithachanceofbi @judymarch15 @nine-one-wanton @herrmannhalsteadproduction @typicalopposite @xtarmanderx @justahumblecabbagemerchant

[vickytaa]

𝐅𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. 𝐌.𝐒.

summery: After a great game, y/n is not happy with her participation

___________________☆___________________

My team was happily celebrating winning the match, while I was thinking about what I needed to improve for the next one. I haven't been good enough, I made several mistakes that definitely won't happen in the next one.

I need to train more to improve, I must not drop any balls. Maybe watching the video of my match will help me see where I went wrong.

I played badly. I need to train more, maybe I'll sign up for another training session, surely another coach can tell me what I'm doing wrong. Or als-

"Hey," Matt's sweet voice interrupted my post-match thoughts. He walked over and wrapped his arm around my shoulders. I quickly looked up, meeting his worried look.

He knew that I took the sport very seriously, but he never supported me in going to train more hours and refused to take me to training sessions that were "Too much" according to him.

I let out the breath I had been unconsciously holding. "Can we go home?" I asked, my eyes filling with tears. I didn't know why I felt like crying so badly, nor did I know why I felt like I had played so badly.

But it's true, I played badly.

Matt slowly nodded, not even asking why I hadn't celebrated with my teammates, or how I felt after the game, like he always does. But I think I know why he doesn't, it's because he already knows the answer.

I'm never satisfied with how I play, there are times when I come home crying, torturing myself all day about how I played badly while everyone told me I was the player of the match. But it wasn't enough, it never is.

That's why I always try to find ways to improve, watching my games and counting my mistakes in my notebook:

- 1 serving error, I got to 8/10 touches, I was blocked 3 times, I have to run faster, open up to attack faster, I need to train more.

We left quickly, people who passed me congratulated me for the great game we had, but nothing filled the emptiness I felt inside. Matt noticed it, he knew what was going on inside my mind. Well, maybe only a part of what goes on inside it.

When we got to the car, we got in but Matt wouldn't start the car. He knew this had to stop, what was happening to me was a very serious problem.

"Y/n" Matt said, his tone normal, covering the great concern behind it. I turned my head, just enough to look him in the eyes, and that's when I saw it. The concern, the fear.

The tears that had formed earlier were now rolling down my face. The silence filled the car with noise. Our gazes did not move away, as if they were communicating with each other.

Matt shook his head slightly, inviting me to sit on his lap. I had never given myself to him easily. Whenever I cried after a game I always found a way to cry alone, immersed in my own thoughts.

But this time it was different, there was nowhere to run, and there was no reason to. I slowly unbuckled the seat belt and curled up on his lap, my head resting on his chest, feeling his heartbeat.

It was all very intimate, the moment, the closeness, the love. I had never felt strong enough to let myself be so vulnerable in front of someone, but I couldn't with Matt. He was my safe place, where I recharged my energy to carry on with my day to day life.

He hugged me tightly, as if he was trying to gather the broken glass. The tears kept falling without stopping. Even though there was not a single word, he understood me, I understood myself.

"You shouldn't torture yourself like this. Please, Y/n, it kills me to see you like this every day" Matt confessed. I always knew that he had a bitter taste in his mouth whenever I came home crying from a training session or a game, but hearing it from him?

Pain flooded my chest, knowing how the mental damage I was doing to myself was affecting those I loved the most.

This had to stop, it wasn't good for me and even less for those who care about me. I must stop beating myself up for mistakes that aren't that big of a deal.

"I'm sorry," I said, my voice cracking. And I really did. My sobs were the only thing that could be heard at that moment, the sound of them ripping through Matt's soul. Seeing me this broken, this vulnerable, killed him.

He quickly gave me a small kiss on my forehead, and then hugged me even tighter, as if he didn't want me to ever leave. "It's okay, baby." He said, his words hanging in the air as I tried to hold them in and believe them.

It wasn't okay, not at all, but in that moment, I felt like everything was going to be okay. We were going to get through this together and we weren't going to let my frustration win.

"Thank you," I said, my voice low, almost like a sigh, but just enough for him to hear. "I love you," Matt said as he rested his chin on my head, trying to hold me as close as possible.

"I love you more," I said. My sobs slowly calmed down, the air became lighter and the voices in my head quieter.

𝐕 -

[ajokeformur-ray]

My thoughts on Joker: Folie à Deux

Now that I'm done sobbing and it's been a few hours since I left the cinema with my roommate, I've put the first Joker on for comfort while I write this.

Spoilers below the cut for anyone who hasn't seen it.

We all know that I was one of those "I don't want a sequel" girlies and in a way, I still am. I maintain that Joker didn't need a sequel, it was a perfect standalone. But, surprisingly, I enjoyed this film as it was.

It was very dark, gritty, the things we didn't get to see because they were only implied were things which stuck with me long after leaving the cinema, it was ambitious with Lee but didn't quite go as far as I would have liked with her; she had so much more potential and I thought we were gonna get that when she smashed the shop window to get a small TV with which to see her Joker on with a very sweetly spoken "excuse me" and then walked away without a fuss. It was gorgeously arranged, the songs were perfectly selected and I adore that That's Life played during the start and end; it brought our beloved Arthur to a full circle. And, most importantly, it was faithful to our Arthur. That's what I and so many others were afraid of, that this sequel would butcher our boy, but it didn't. It was faithful to him to the bitter, tragic end.

Joker was gorgeous. He was... so realistic, so raw and real and in pain, he was everything I always wanted this universe's Joker to be. I've always said in my fics and posts that Arthur didn't want to be Joker, it was something which the general public put onto him and he never wanted it, he just wanted to be seen, heard, accepted and loved for who he was, and even when he exposed his pain on national TV, he wasn't given that. He was ignored, spoken for rather than listened to, and then in this new film that carried on happening until yet again he stood up for himself and took what he knew to be right. He's the best advocate for himself and it's a lesson I need to learn from him a bit more than I have done before. But I digress... Joker was so perfect. And his little comedy moments did have me giggling, even through my tears at various points in the film.

I enjoyed the difference between how Joker and Arthur were considered, though we all know that the lawyer's initial defense, as well meaning as it was, was not it. Arthur was never gonna walk out of there without consequences and we all knew it. The constant switches between his delusions as Joker and the way he was stood still in Arkham or the courtroom were so well done, and I liked how murder was used against himself while he was waging between doing what people were telling him to do, and what he wanted to do for himself.

I was begging for Arthur to do the right thing the whole way through the trial, even though I knew what it would mean for him, and in the end he chose himself just like he did in the first film, and it was the bravest thing he could have done. It was utterly devastating, but in the end I think the way he chose to go down was the right way. He could have either continued being Joker and gone down being known for someone he wasn't and someone he had never been, or he could stand up, admit to who he is and display emotional maturity and speak for himself.

He chose the latter and I'm, in a very bittersweet way, grateful. I sobbed through most of the film but in the end, Arthur was himself, and it was so brave and so heartbreaking. This film was, at the end of it all, as true to Arthur as Arthur ended up being to himself (and I think it was because Gary's testimony and tearful "why are you doing this to me?" that was the catalyst behind Arthur making this fateful decision), and it was... it was so hard to watch, very difficult to stomach, but also I am proud of myself for going. I really didn't want to, I didn't, but Arthur would have gone to see us if the situation was reversed, and not going to see this film would have felt like abandonment of our boy... I didn't want to do that. I'm glad I went, but I'll probably take a long time before I'm able to watch it again, if I ever can.

The last scene especially shattered me, but I think that from a narrative point of view, it makes sense. Arthur was a tragedy, through and through. Though, he's an unreliable narrator, so who knows if we saw what we all think we saw? It was the perfect end for Arthur, as horrific, cruel, and brutal as it was, but the inmate was wrong... it wasn't at all what he deserved.

Our Arthur deserved sunshine, cuddles for days, kisses in the rain, dancing, singing, he deserved comedy nights and a dancing partner, he deserved so much more than what he got.

And the irony is that the people complaining that this Joker wasn't the Joker they wanted are literally proving the core message of the film; Arthur isn't Joker. He was never Joker, and that's why he was abandoned by so many in the film; by Lee, by those dressed like Joker, by everyone who wanted him to be someone he wasn't... he was given that title by people who didn't know him, people who didn't want to know him, Gothamites who used him and his crimes to justify and further their own political agenda, and, in the real world, by those complaining that this Joker isn't the Joker they wanted.

Arthur is Arthur Fleck, he's always been Arthur Fleck. He was willing to die to make that point, so in the end he died for himself, and it was so brave and courageous and heartbreaking.

I walked out of the cinema sobbing the hardest I've cried for a long time, but so much more in love with Arthur Fleck than I was before. I just want to tell him how sorry I am, and how loved he is by all of us. That's what he deserves.

❤️💚💙🤍

[rafesapologist]

the setback ─ rafe cameron; part eleven

summary: it's been two years since your departure from the outer banks and rafe cameron has seemingly convinced himself that he can go on with his life as if you never happened, except now more than ever his addiction is at an all time high. whether he was snorting lines of cocaine at wild parties or drowning himself in alcohol to numb the pain, rafe couldn't escape the memories of you. despite his efforts to bury his feelings, your absence lingered like a shadow, haunting him at every turn. meanwhile, you've been navigating life outside the outer banks, trying to carve out a new path for yourself. but no matter how far you've traveled, the memories of rafe cameron still linger in your heart, leaving you with a sense of unfinished business. as you find yourself facing new challenges and opportunities, you can't help but wonder if fate will eventually bring you back to the place where it all began.

warnings: swearing, just mostly angst

His lips lingered like the final note of a symphony, suspended in the air, resonating with the depth of the situation between you two. His hands were tender and gentle as they cupped your face with the delicacy of a whisper, as if he were cradling a fragile dream. His fingers traced the contours of your cheek feeling the warmth that lingered like the last rays of a setting sun.

The intensity of the moment held you captive, locking away the words that danced on the tip of your tongue. It was as if time itself had paused, allowing you to drown in the depths of his gaze, searching for answers to questions you couldn't bring yourself to ask.

In the silence that stretched between you, there was an unspoken understanding, a silent conversation that transcended words. It was in the way his eyes crinkled at the corners, mirroring the warmth in your heart, and the way your breaths fell into sync, as if they were orchestrating a melody only the two of you could hear.

"I wish we hadn't lost all that time," Rafe's words carried the weight of regret, each syllable heavy with the burden of what could have been. You felt his anguish seep into the air, thick and suffocating, wrapping around you both like a shroud of sorrow. Tears welled in your eyes as you listened to him, his apologies echoing in the chambers of your heart. You wanted to tell him that none of it was his fault, that life had a way of steering its course beyond their control, but the words caught in your throat, choked by the weight of your own emotions.

Despite your eyes squeezed shut to fight back your tears from falling, Rafe continued, "You left this island because of me. And because of that, it led you right into Maybank's arms." He seethed, combing his hand through his hair hysterically as he shook his head at the ground. You could see the war waging in his mind by the depths of his discordant gaze. JJ's name was an acrid bitterness on his tongue, as if the taste of every vowel left a lingering taste of a cruel reminder.

"Things were different back then," you warbled in a hushed cadence, "after everything came out I thought it would be easier on you to not be reminded of me. I thought I was helping you move on."

Rafe gazed at you in bewilderment, as though you had spun a cruel jest. His eyes were wild and frenzied, darting back and forth with manic urgency, as if searching your face for a hint of laughter, a sign that it was merely a joke you were telling him.

"Y/n, you're kidding, right? It was fucking hell when you left here," he let out an unhumored laugh, the sound hollow and pained.

Your heart clenched at his words, the pain in his voice cutting through you like a knife. "Rafe, I... I didn't know. I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought you hated me after everything that happened."

"Hate you?" Rafe's voice softened, his anger giving way to raw vulnerability. "I could never hate you, Y/n. I was hurt, confused, but I never hated you. I just... I didn't understand why you left."

You looked down, unable to meet his gaze, tears blurring your vision. "I was scared, Rafe. Scared of what we were becoming, scared of losing myself in all of it. I thought leaving was the only way to protect us both, before we ruined each other."

Rafe gently lifted your chin, forcing you to look into his eyes. "But it didn't protect us. It just tore us apart. And now... now you're telling me you won't do it again, that you won't betray me, but what about JJ? What about everything that's happening now?"

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. "I told JJ I can't do it. I can't spy on you, Rafe. It's not right, and it won't solve anything. We have to find another way."

He nodded slowly, relief and sadness mingling in his eyes. "Okay. We'll find another way. Just... please, don't leave again. I don't think I could handle it."

"I won't," you whispered, wrapping your arms around him, holding him as tightly as you could. "I'm here, Rafe. I'm not going anywhere."

As you stood in the rain, lost in Rafe's arms, you began to distance yourself from the world. The sound of the rain hitting the wooden planks of the dock created a symphony that seemed to resonate with the depth of your emotions. The warmth of Rafe's embrace, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against yours, and the gentle patter of raindrops all blended into a moment of fragile peace. It was as if time had stopped, allowing you to savor this brief respite from the chaos of your reality.

But the world had a way of intruding, even in the most perfect moments. Your phone began to ring, shattering the illusion of tranquility. You pulled away slightly, the sound pulling you back to reality. Rafe's eyes searched yours, concern etched in his features as he watched you fumble for your phone.

You glanced at the screen and saw Sarah's name flashing, the sound of her ringtone piercing through the night.

"Sarah," you muttered, feeling a mix of urgency and dread. You answered the call, your voice barely a whisper. "Hello?"

"Y/n, where are you? JJ's been looking for you everywhere," Sarah's voice was frantic, a stark contrast to the calm you had just been enveloped in. "He thinks something's happened. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," you replied, glancing at Rafe who was still holding onto you, his eyes never leaving your face. "I'm with Rafe. We're talking things out."

There was a pause on the other end, followed by a sigh. "Okay, but you need to come back soon. JJ's not in a good place, and he's worried sick about you."

You nodded, even though Sarah couldn't see you. "I'll be back soon. Just tell JJ I'm okay."

"Alright, but hurry. And be careful," Sarah added before hanging up.

You slipped your phone back into your pocket, looking up at Rafe with a mixture of apology and resolve. "I have to go. JJ's worried about me."

Rafe nodded, understanding but also reluctant to let you go. "I get it. Just... be careful, okay?"

"I will," you promised, giving him one last hug before pulling away completely. "Thank you for understanding, Rafe. We'll figure this out."

He gave you a small, reassuring smile. "Yeah, 'course."

You let out a sigh of dread as you turned on your heel, lifting your hood to shield yourself from the rain. The urgency of Sarah's call propelled you forward, and you sprinted down the dock, the wooden planks slick and treacherous beneath your feet. The cold rain pelted your face, mingling with the tears you hadn't realized were falling.

You regretted walking there now, with the rain coming down harder and the pressing need to get back to the Chateau before JJ blew a gasket. Your heart pounded in your chest, each beat echoing your rising anxiety. Adrenaline coursed through your veins, urging you to keep running, your footsteps a steady rhythm against the backdrop of the storm.

As you raced through the dimly lit streets of Outer Banks, your thoughts swirled in a chaotic mix of guilt, fear, and determination. You couldn't shake the image of Rafe's eyes, filled with a mixture of hope and sorrow. You knew this was far from over, that your decisions would have far-reaching consequences.

The familiar sight of the Chateau came into view, and you pushed yourself to run faster, your breaths coming in ragged gasps. You reached the front porch and paused for a moment, catching your breath and trying to steady your racing heart.

You slipped inside quietly, hoping to avoid waking anyone. The living room was dark, but you could hear the faint sound of voices from the kitchen. You crept towards your room, hoping to slip in unnoticed, but the floor creaked beneath your feet, betraying your presence.

The voices stopped abruptly, and a moment later, JJ appeared in the hallway, his face a mixture of relief and frustration. "Y/N, where the hell have you been? I've been worried sick!"

"I... I needed to clear my head," you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper. "I just went for a walk."

JJ didn’t quite believe your excuse for leaving, and so he pressed forward, his voice tinged with frustration. "Why the hell would you go for a walk in this weather, y/n? It's pouring out there!"

You flinched at JJ's aggression, taken aback by how angered he was at your disappearance. You knew he was worried, but you didn’t expect him to be so hostile. His anger radiated off him, filling the space between you like a tangible force.

"JJ," you began, your voice trembling slightly, "I just needed some air, okay? I had to clear my head."

"Clear your head?" JJ repeated, his voice laced with sarcasm and disbelief. "Do you even realize what you're saying? You went out in this weather, alone, at night. Do you know how dangerous that is?"

"I know," you said, trying to keep your voice steady. "But I couldn’t stay cooped up inside. I needed to think."

JJ scoffed, still not happy with your answer. His eyes burned daggers into yours, fueled with anger. "Bullshit, Y/N. You know, you've been acting so damn weird lately. You do remember we're together, right?"

His words hit you like a punch to the gut. You took a step back, feeling the sting of his accusation. "Of course I remember, JJ," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "I haven't forgotten."

"Then start acting like it," he snapped, his voice rising. "I can't keep doing this, y/n. One minute you're here, the next you're gone. I need to know where your head's at."

You felt a lump forming in your throat, making it hard to swallow. "I'm sorry," you said, trying to hold back tears. "I just have a lot on my mind. Everything with Ward, John B... it's overwhelming."

"Overwhelming?" JJ scoffed again, shaking his head. "You think it's not overwhelming for me? For all of us? We're all in the same boat here, y/n."

"I know, I know," you said, your voice breaking. "I'm trying, JJ. I really am. But it's not easy."

"Well, you're not making it any easier by disappearing like that," he said, his tone softening just a bit. "I need you here, with us. With me."

You looked into his eyes, seeing the hurt and confusion there. You knew he had every right to be angry, but it didn’t make the situation any less complicated. "I'm sorry," you repeated. "I won't do it again. I promise."

JJ nodded, seemingly satisfied by your reassurance. But as he went to pull you into his arms, for some reason, you instinctively backed up a few centimeters. Immediately, you realized you had made a mistake. JJ's expression fell into one of surprise and annoyance.

"What the hell, y/n?" he demanded, his voice laced with hurt.

You took a deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts. "I'm sorry, JJ. I didn't mean to... I just need a little space right now," you said, your voice trembling.

"Space? From me?" he asked, incredulity and hurt blending in his tone. "I thought we just agreed to be honest with each other. What's really going on?"

"Nothing is going on, I—" you began, but JJ cut you off sharply.

"Cut the bullshit, Y/N! What—are you cheating on me or something? I mean, I get why you did it with Rafe, but I thought we were better than that."

You felt a rush of anger and hurt at his accusation. "I didn't cheat on him, JJ!" you snapped, your voice rising with frustration.

JJ's eyes bore into yours, a mix of anger and betrayal simmering beneath the surface. "Then what the hell is it? You've been acting so damn weird lately. You sneak off, avoid me, and now you won't even let me hold you."

"Because, JJ!" you threw your hands up in defense, feeling overwhelmed by his interrogation. "My feelings have been all over the place since we got back here, and you don't seem to give a shit! You think this place doesn't bring back a lot of memories for me? Because it does, and I am trying to cope with them, but you won't fucking let me do that."

JJ's face twisted with confusion and frustration. "What are you talking about, Y/N? What memories? If you're struggling, why didn't you just talk to me?"

"Because it's not that simple, JJ," you scoffed, crossing your arms defensively. "This entire place is a reminder of my past. So forgive me if I'm 'acting weird,'" you spat, the words coming out sharper than you intended.

JJ looked taken aback, his eyes narrowing slightly as he processed your words. "Your past? Y/n, we all have pasts here. But you don't see me freaking out and running off in the middle of the night," he retorted, his voice tinged with frustration.

You felt a surge of anger rising within you. "You don't get it, JJ. This place, these memories... they're not something I can just brush off. Every corner, every street brings back something I thought I had moved on from. And you standing here, accusing me of cheating, just makes it worse."

"Well, it's nothing you haven't done before," JJ replied, his tone biting and accusatory.

You flinched at his words, feeling the sting of his accusation. "That's not fair, JJ," you said softly, trying to keep your voice steady despite the turmoil inside you. "we were not together and you knew that. Why are you holding that against me? It was two years ago."

JJ scoffed, his frustration bubbling to the surface. "Yeah, well, it's hard to not think about when you keep disappearing and acting all secretive."

"I told you, I'm not doing anything behind your back," you insisted, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and desperation. "But you need to understand that I can't just forget everything that's happened here."

JJ's eyes bore into yours, the intensity of his gaze making you feel even more vulnerable. "Then help me understand, y/n. Because right now, all I see is you pulling away, and I don't know how to fix it."

"There's nothing to fix, JJ. You have to let me figure this out on my own," you asserted, your voice firm and resolute.

JJ's expression softened, a mix of resignation and concern in his eyes. "I just want to help, y/n. I hate seeing you like this."

"JJ, I just... think we need a break from each other right now," you confessed, your voice heavy with emotion. "I'm not in the place to be in a relationship right now, and obviously that's evident to you, too."

JJ's expression faltered, a mix of surprise and disappointment crossing his features. "A break?" he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, your gaze fixed on the ground. "Yeah, just for a while. I need some time to sort things out, figure out what I want."

There was a weighty silence between you as JJ processed your words. Eventually, he let out a heavy sigh. "Okay," he said, his voice tinged with resignation. "If that's what you need."

You offered him a weak smile, grateful for his understanding. "Thank you, JJ. I'm sorry."

He reached out to touch your arm, a fleeting gesture of comfort. "Don't be sorry, Y/N. Just take care of yourself, okay?"

As you turned away from JJ, the tension in the air was palpable, thick with unresolved emotions. Your heart raced, a mixture of guilt, relief, and uncertainty coursing through your veins. With each step down the hallway, the weight of your decision seemed to grow heavier, pressing down on your shoulders like a burden too heavy to bear.

Tears blurred your vision as you hurried away, the sound of your own footsteps echoing in the empty corridor. You could feel JJ's eyes burning into your back, his unspoken questions hanging in the air like a stormcloud ready to burst. But you couldn't bring yourself to turn around, couldn't bear to face the hurt and disappointment that you knew would be written across his face.

Just when you thought you couldn't take another step, you collided with someone, jolting you out of your spiraling thoughts. It was Sarah.

"Whoa, y/n, are you okay?" Sarah's eyes widened in concern as she steadied you with a hand on your arm. Her warm smile quickly faded when she saw the tears streaming down your face.

You looked up at her, struggling to find the words. "I... I broke up with JJ," you finally admitted, your voice trembling.

Sarah's face softened with sympathy. "Oh, y/n, I'm so sorry. What happened?"

You wiped a tear from your cheek, taking a shaky breath. "It's just... everything's been so overwhelming since we got back here. This place brings back so many memories, and JJ doesn't seem to understand. I felt like I was drowning, and I couldn't breathe. I needed space to figure things out."

Sarah gave you a sympathetic look and sighed, resonation hitting her as she spoke softly, "It's because of Rafe, isn't it?"

You fell silent, looking up at Sarah as tears welled up in your eyes. Unable to hold them back any longer, you nodded frantically and fell into her arms, sobbing onto her shoulder. She held you tightly, offering the comfort you so desperately needed.

"I thought I was over him, Sarah," you choked out between sobs. "I really did. But then when I saw him for the first time again, it all came back."

Sarah rubbed your back soothingly, her voice soft and understanding. "I know, y/n. Feelings like that don’t just disappear. It's okay to still have them. It’s okay to be confused."

You clung to her, the weight of your emotions pouring out as you continued to cry. "I don’t know what to do. Everything’s such a mess. I hurt JJ, and I feel so guilty about it. But at the same time, I can’t ignore what I feel for Rafe."

Sarah pulled back slightly, just enough to look you in the eyes. "Listen to me, y/n. You have to follow your heart. It’s not going to be easy, and people might get hurt, but you can’t live your life based on what others expect of you."

You nodded, wiping your tears with the back of your hand. "I just don’t want to keep making the same mistakes."

"You won’t," Sarah assured you. "You’re being honest with yourself and with everyone involved. That’s the most important thing. And no matter what happens, I’m here for you."

Taking a deep breath, you felt a glimmer of hope. "Thank you, Sarah. I don’t know what I’d do without you."

She smiled warmly, giving you another reassuring hug. "You’re stronger than you think, y/n. You’ll get through this."

You pulled away from the embrace and nodded at Sarah with a small smile, wiping away the last of your tears as you attempted to calm your breathing. "I need to go see Rafe. To tell him I ended things with JJ."

Sarah gave you an encouraging nod. "I think that’s a good idea. He deserves to know where you stand, and you deserve to move forward without any more confusion."

Taking a deep breath, you gathered your strength and turned to leave. The thought of seeing Rafe again filled you with both anxiety and anticipation. As you made your way to the door, Sarah's voice stopped you.

"Remember, y/n, you’re doing the right thing. Just be honest with him and with yourself."

You gave her one last grateful look before stepping outside. The rain had eased to a light drizzle, the cool drops refreshing against your skin. You pulled your hood up and started walking toward Rafe's place, your steps steady despite the turmoil inside you.

The journey felt longer than usual, every step bringing a new wave of doubt and fear. But you pushed through, knowing that this was something you had to do. You needed closure with JJ and a new beginning with Rafe, or at least clarity on where you stood with him.

When you finally arrived at Rafe's house, you hesitated at the door, your hand hovering just inches from the wood. Taking one last deep breath, you knocked, the sound echoing in the stillness of the night.

After a moment, the door opened, and there stood Rafe, his eyes widening in surprise and concern as he saw you standing there, rain-soaked and trembling.

"Y/n, what are you doing here?" he asked, stepping aside as you pushed yourself inside.

You entered, your heart pounding in your chest as you faced him. "I need to talk to you, Rafe. It's important."

Rafe looked at you, a nervous look on his face. His eyes scanned around behind him as if he were looking for something, which made you confused. "Y/n, we can talk whenever you want but right now really isn’t a good time—"

Before he could finish, a female voice came from the shadows of the hallway, "Rafe, who’s at the door?"

Your heart skipped a beat as you peered into the dimly lit corridor, trying to make out the figure approaching. The girl stepped into the light, revealing herself to be none other than Sophia, Rafe's supposed girlfriend. Her eyes widened slightly when she saw you, then narrowed in a mix of surprise and annoyance.

"Y/n?" Sophia said, her voice dripping with disdain. "What are you doing here?"

Your expression fell as you took in the sight of Sophia, a familiar pain surfacing that you thought you had forgotten. Seeing her was a harsh reminder that Rafe had moved on after you left, adding salt to your open wound. The shock and hurt must have been evident on your face because Rafe immediately tried to speak up.

"Y/n, wait—"

But before he could finish, you were already sprinting back down the driveway, the rain mixing with the tears streaming down your face. The dampness of the night mirrored the turmoil inside you, each step feeling heavier as you ran, trying to escape the crushing reality you had just faced.

Your thoughts were a whirlwind. The memory of Rafe's tender words and the undeniable connection you felt with him clashed violently with the image of Sophia standing in his hallway. The betrayal stung deeply, and all you wanted was to put as much distance as possible between you and the pain.

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[tonkatsubowl]

Can I request something like Yan!Sunday with an innocent/naive reader? Maybe something that includes brainwashing/mindcontrol bc i swear sunday is not normal

(only if you want to do this req ofc!)

you decided to visit the shopping center of penacony to buy a few things for your significant other. you had a few dinner ideas in mind, and because of the stress that piles up from yandere sunday, he sometimes never has time to take you out to a nice place to eat, or even cook you something. you didn't mind that at all, considering you were understanding of his situation.

besides, you didn't know that sunday practically had his eye on you no matter what. every move, every breath you take—he tracked.

as you went through the shopping area, you had a small little basket you carried that already had a few items in it. from vegetables to small ingredients to make dessert... you were humming one of robin's music to yourself as you wandered about, putting things in your little basket.

as you continued to shop, you were approached by a stranger. a man in particular, who seemed to have caught his eye when wandering about, too.

"hey there!" he enthusiastically said, beaming brightly, "how are you doing?"

"oh! hello!" you say with a smile, "i'm doing well. i'm just shopping for dinner right now."

"ah, dinner?" he tilted his head, looking at the items in your basket, "making something for yourself?"

"oh, it's not just for me," you shook your head, "it's for my boyfriend too."

there was a bit of bitterness in the man's eyes, but you didn't seem to notice.

"boyfriend, huh? how about you make me something too?"

you blinked, before sheepishly smiling, shaking your head, "ah, i'm sorry. i could get you a small snack or something... what would you like?"

you were incredibly naïve, and the stranger found it admirable. he approached you a bit closer. "well, you can definitely get me a snack, alright. your boyfriend won't know about it."

you blinked again, head tilted to the side. you weren't sure what he meant but you decided to brush his comment off. "well, um... what would you like? there's chips, and—"

"there you are, my dove."

sunday's voice occurred behind you, his arm gracefully wrapped around your hip. the stranger seemed to have recognized sunday, seeing his face with robin all over the streets of penacony. this man... this man was your significant other?

"oh, sunday!" you smiled innocently.

"what's going on here?" asked-he, looking towards the stranger with darkness apparent in his gaze.

"oh, he was just asking me if i could get a snack for him. since you're here," you looked to the stranger, "my boyfriend knows now!"

sunday didn't have to know the context behind what happened, because he already knew everything. he smiled at the stranger but there was an aura of murderous intent.

the stranger began to sweat, before bowing apologetically. "i-i'm sorry. i'll leave now."

he left in a hurry, leaving you and sunday alone. you blinked out of confusion, before looking to sunday.

"huh? i thought i was gonna buy him some chips or-"

"(y/n)." he says in a low voice. "please, do not do that again."

"do what?" your head tilts.

he slowly reaches up, brushing his hand against the side of your face. digits gently brush against your skin, tracing down across your jawline.

"you see, people here are dangerous in penacony. they approach you for needs, or even something worse... a trap, even." his grip tightens around your face, but you didn't move. he wasn't hurting you.

"i suggest that you stay indoors while i am gone."

you blinked again, confusion evident upon your visage, "stay indoors? at your home?"

sunday nodded. "correct. for your safety, i much prefer that you don't leave at all. that is... if you are okay with it."

there was something about his words that made you feel reluctant, but you understood, thinking that he was just looking out for you. you were lost in his eyes for a moment, as though something within was calling out to him... listening to his words.

"... okay!" you beamed. "when would i get to leave?"

"whenever i think it's safe for you, my dear. whenever i tell you it's okay to leave home, then you'll be able to leave, but only for a short period of time. or when i am with you."

you nodded, "alright, but... short period of time? what do you mean by that?"

sunday gave a low, dangerous chuckle, "you can't be out for too long. i worry for your safety."

"i-i see. alright. i understand, so you don't have to worry about that."

sunday nods, "of course. i'll be right here with you."

for the rest of the hour, you finished your shopping and went home with sunday. however, the moment you entered the vicinity, you didn't realize sunday had locked the doors from the inside. you weren't allowed to leave. no matter what. not until what your boyfriend tells you.

"so, what did you buy?" questioned the halovian.

"i bought some ingredients for dinner! i figured i would make something for the both of us, since you're busy with work and i know how stressful it can get."

sunday's gaze softened as he approached you, pressing his lips against the side of your head. "thank you, love. you didn't have to do all of that."

you laugh, nuzzled into his affection as you placed the ingredients on the counter. "will you be leaving soon? i mean, how did you know i was there?"

"ah, i just had a feeling." a lie. he was watching you. "and i figured i'd come by to grab a small beverage or two on my break, then i saw you."

"oh! perfect timing then."

"now, i should get going. remember what i said, (y/n). you are not to leave."

you nodded, smiling brightly at him. "i won't!"

a look of satisfaction appears on the man's face before he disappears into the hallway, the doors closing behind him, ultimately leaving you alone.

[cloverthebarbearian]

Alone Together

Rolan x GN!Tav 6.1k+ words (Explicit, AFAB descriptions used for Tav) (P.1: The Party)

Finally finished Chapter 2 of the first fic I ever started, hope y'all enjoy! It's, uh. :) Yeah :)

"I'm sorry," he said, pulling back on impulse. His voice was trembling, his mouth aching to return to Tav's embrace, "Is this okay? I… I should have asked first, or -" They kissed him again, savoring him as if he were the wine they meant to share tonight. "Yes, Rolan," Tav smiled against him, kissing him softly between their words, "This is more than okay." "We're both drunk," Rolan continued between Tav's peppering onslaught of kisses, "I don't want us to… I don't want you to… come to regret anything…" Tav leaned into him, catching his lips in a kiss more tender and intimate than any of the starved, frantic ones they had already shared. When Tav finally pulled back, they held Rolan's gaze. The spark of infernal fire in his eyes twinkling back at him in the reflection of their own. "Don't talk like that, Rolan. I came here because I wanted to… I want to be with you. There'd be nothing to regret," they wrapped their arms around his neck, holding the back of his head in their hands, kissing him again. And he held onto the moment for dear life. Tav released to take a breath, their lips tracing his own. "Whatever you want tonight. Whatever you need, I'm yours."

The night air grew cool and quiet as the two walked further away from the party grounds. The silence, the wine swimming in Rolan's head, the feeling of Tav's arm still tightly linked into his own. And Gods, the smell of them - sweat and earth, smoke and… sage? Patchouli, maybe. He couldn't quite place it. Lost in thought, Rolan nearly jumped when Tav spoke.

"Where are you camped at?" they questioned. Their party was camped by the river, near the ruins they had met Wither's in a few nights prior. They knew the refugees were leaving the grove come morning, but they never stopped to consider if that's where they'd be spending the night again, "When Zevlor said you'd all be visiting our camp tonight, I wondered if that meant we'd all be sleeping together."

Rolan's face felt warm at the thought of Tav's phrasing. They didn't correct themselves. Perhaps they didn't notice the possible intimacy behind the words. Perhaps Rolan was overthinking again. He stammered a moment before replying.

"I, um - ah, yes. Well. I suppose some of the other refugees are set up closer to your camp. Those who I think were intent to drink themselves silly tonight. But many of us set up our bedrolls by the gates," he fell quiet a moment, before a slight bitterness overtook his words, "The druids seemed keen on us marching out at first light. I suppose Zevlor thought it wise to make it easy for us to leave at their earliest convenience."

Tav looked up, but his gaze held straight ahead. They weren't sure what to say, if anything, that could help. More often than not, Rolan always had some rebuttal prepared in wait of Tav's attempted encouragements.

So, they didn't say anything. They just squeezed his arm a little tighter as they walked together. And though Tav had stopped looking up to read his expression, they felt his body relax around their arm. Rolan took in a heavy breath, an attempt to clear his mind of the hostility he carried.

"Not that I mind, I suppose," he spoke up again, "High time we left this blasted place. Oh, but, um," he cleared his throat before continuing, "I'm camped atop the hill, east of the gate. I was surprised no one else seemed bothered by the thought of sleeping packed together at the gate like animals. And I, um," he hesitated around his words, "I… appreciate the privacy, when its afforded."

Tav smiled, "I'm sure when traveling with family, it doesn't happen often."

"Ha! No, it does not," Rolan replied with a laugh, "I do look forward to a night free of Cal's snoring for a change."

They soon arrived at Rolan's aforementioned campsite. It was much more humble than Tav was expecting. Though, I guess he isn't traveling with much, they soon thought. Inside the tent, they could catch glimpses of his bed roll, quite a number of pillows, and an even larger number of tomes neatly organized in a box tilted on its side. A make-shift book shelf, with some parchment and ink left on top of the 'shelving', in lieu of a proper desk.

"Ah, just one moment," Rolan gave a quick bow before turning to dig through the rucksacks left in a tidy pile beside his tent. Tav stepped away, taking in the view from atop the hill. They could see their party's camp grounds down by the riverbank. Still going strong, it seemed. Drunk as Alfira was, her voice and musical accompaniment still carried faintly up to the grove.

Tav closed their eyes and took a deep breath in, outstretching their arms and allowing the crisp evening air to embrace them. They knew the peace wouldn't last. But they had now. They were allowed to enjoy this moment.

"Am I… interrupting something?" Rolan's voice carried from over Tav's shoulder. They turned their head around and glanced up at the tiefling man behind them. "I did think we had plans this evening," he joked, holding up an unopened bottle of wine and two surprisingly elegant glasses, "But if you'd rather… um. What exactly are you doing?"

Tav laughed, walking back to the tent and sitting on the thin rugs laid out in front of the entrance.

"Honestly? I don't know. Just… enjoying the calm, I suppose, " they said with a sigh. Rolan sat down next to them, uncorking the fresh bottle and pouring them both a glass. He handed one to Tav as he started taking a sip from his own, an eyebrow raising.

"The calm? Sounds to me like they've got a good hours of dance left in them," Rolan joked, nodding at the party down the cliff side. Tav chuckled, their fingers rimming the lip of the wine glass.

"I just mean I haven't had a moment like… This -" they shrugged, vaguely, gesturing to the air around them, "- In a while," They looked down into their cup. The wine a deep, clean red, "Usually, the nights before rest just leave me thinking of the battles to come tomorrow. It's nice to know I can just… I don't know. Appreciate this," they said with a forlorn lilt, "Whatever this is."

Their voice held that appreciation. But with it was a heaviness. A burden weighing the air so thick Rolan felt as if, for a moment, it were his own. Tav let go of another breath and took a sip of their wine.

"Oh, wow," their eyes grew wide, "Y'know, I'll be honest Rolan. I kind of just thought you were full of it with the whole 'vintage bottle back at my camp' thing. But, this is way better than what they're serving back there!"

Rolan eyes went wide and his jaw went slack in disbelief, "What do you mean you thought I was 'full of it'?! That I'd - That I'd lie just to get you up here? That I'd have some sort of… Some ulterior motive to -" Tav reached their hand out and placed it on his leg.

"Rolan. I'm only teasing. I'm sorry," they squeezed his leg in an attempt to comfort him. They were smiling, but genuine concern was apparent on their face, "Do you not like that? When I… Joke around? Or tease you? I can stop, if it bothers you."

Rolan felt his breath catch a moment. Then he let out an exasperated sigh, "No, no… I'm sorry. Maybe it's just, a mixture of the constant teasing I already receive from Lia and Cal, and… all the stress we've dealt with in the grove. I can tell, I've been… quick to lose myself. I swear, under better circumstances I am significantly more collected. I've just… all this! Has just been… so… augh!" his hands clenched and released at nothing in the air, "Gods, I have just been so anxious to get to my apprenticeship in Baldur's Gate! I feel like every second we spend here is a second wasted. This is all time that could be spent as Master Lorroakan's apprentice! At times I feel as if nobody else cares enough to -" Tav heard it immediately, his voice starting to crack. He caught himself, breathing deep. Then, taking his entire glass of wine down in two large gulps, he tosses the cup aside and lays on the ground, a heavy THUMP accompanying the action. His palms pressing against his eyes, his fingers rubbing his temple. He let out a heavy groan, "This was not at all how I intended the night to go."

Tav gave a soft smile, drinking the rest of their wine and placing the glass down beside them. They laid on their side next to Rolan, their head propped up by one arm, while their other reached over to carefully remove one of his hands from his face. He opened one eye to glance up at them.

"I hope you're aware I'm having a fine time tonight," they said with a smile. Rolan huffed.

"Reveling in my misery?" he said, his tone dry.

"No," Tav replied, pulling his other hand away from his face, "I mean, I will admit. Its nice to see that the Great Wizard Rolan doesn't really have it all together," Rolan's eyes caught theirs. Not angry, but clearly anticipating some sort of following statement. Tav smirked at him before looking away, biting their lip as a shy smile found its way across their face.

"I like seeing you vulnerable, Rolan," Tav said softly, "I like knowing there's someone with… feelings in there. Like, I get thay you're... stressed. This is all very stressful. But… I don't know. When you talk about how much you love your siblings, how much you hate loving your siblings… This all just tells me, you do have a heart. Deep, deep down, somewhere… Even if you try really, really, really hard to convince everyone you're this selfish, arrogant, pretentious, egotistical -" Tav's words were cut short as Rolan's lips planted themselves firmly against theirs, his hand reaching up to cup their chin in his palm.

The sensations experienced in but a half second were overwhelming. His lips were warm, and soft, the taste of fine wine still fresh on his breath. His hand was strong, dexterous. Like a musician, there was delicate experience beneath his touch. Mixed with the now buzzing sensation of fresh wine hitting their bloodstream. Tav felt dizzy, in the best possible way.

Their eyes fluttered shut as they realized what was happening. They felt Rolan begin to pull away, worried he may have overstepped, only for Tav to immediately follow him. Pushing him back onto the ground and pulling themselves above him, falling further into his kiss. The sudden, enthusiastic reciprocation left Rolan purring low into every kiss that followed. One hand still holding Tav's face to his, the other exploring the curves of their body. When Rolan's nails accidentally slipped under Tav's shirt, grazing their bare skin, they let out a shuddering gasp against his lips.

"I'm sorry," he said, pulling back on impulse. His voice was trembling, his mouth aching to return to Tav's embrace, "Is this okay? I… I should have asked first, or -"

They kissed him again, savoring him as if he were the wine they meant to share tonight.

"Yes, Rolan," Tav smiled against him, kissing him softly between their words, "This is more than okay."

"We're both drunk," Rolan continued between Tav's peppering onslaught of kisses, "I don't want us to… I don't want you to… come to regret anything…" Tav leaned into him, catching his lips in a kiss more tender and intimate than any of the starved, frantic ones they had already shared. When Tav finally pulled back, they held Rolan's gaze. The spark of infernal fire in his eyes twinkling back at him in the reflection of their own.

"Don't talk like that, Rolan. I came here because I wanted to… I want to be with you. There'd be nothing to regret," they wrapped their arms around his neck, holding the back of his head in their hands, kissing him again. And he held onto the moment for dear life. Tav released to take a breath, their lips tracing his own.

"Whatever you want tonight. Whatever you need, I'm yours."

I'm yours, he thought.

The words flooded him, a hunger pulsing through his blood, building in his throat. Static leaping across every nerve, every muscle. He took a deep breath in, kissing Tav again before pulling away, focusing himself well enough to whisper, "It's more comfortable inside."

Tav's eyes gleamed in the moonlight as they smiled up at him. Twisting in each others arms, practically crawling across the ground, the two made their way into Rolan's tent. The wizard tried to lay Tav onto his bedroll, but it seemed they had other plans. His little hero may have been smaller than him, but they were certainly much stronger. Tav quickly flipped him onto his back, straddling his legs, their hands tracing down from his neck, across his chest, resting down just below his navel. And they could feel Rolan shifting - and growing ­- beneath them.

And while they tried their best to hide it, Tav was suddenly struck with a sobering awareness of the position they were in. They bit their lip, their face running hot, unsure just how to proceed. Rolan ghosted his hands across their hips and thighs before settling on a spot to secure them. Sensing their shared trepidation, he gripped them slightly tighter, adjusting himself enough to allow his hips to roll into theirs. Tav let out a breathless moan, their hand reaching up to their face and brushing up against their lips. Rolan immediately reached up to grab their wrist, pulling their hand away from their face and towards his own. Tav froze, catching his gaze, as Rolan brought their hand to his mouth.

He kissed and bit their wrist tenderly, careful not to break skin with his incisors, allowing his teeth and tongue to trace the shape of them. Tav's body shuddered, their free hand twisting into the fabric of Rolan's robes. They rocked their hips into him, finding the pressure of the growing arousal beneath them, shifting to line him up with their own aching entrance.

As soon as Tav found their mutual sweet spot, Rolan let out a hissing whine. He gripped at Tav's legs to still them. They immediately stopped, even trying to lift themselves off of him slightly.

"I'm sorry, is that -"

"Its fine Tav, its - Hells, its incredible -" Rolan's words came out between heaving breaths. Tav gently settled back down onto his lap, and his head fell into his pile of pillows. Lifting a hand to run through his hair, he laughed to himself. Without looking up, he spoke, "Its been a while, to be blunt. A good, long while. Well before Elturel, even, since I've…" He took a deep breath, lifting himself slightly and looking over Tav's body. His hands run up and down their thighs, tracing his thumbs inside their legs, meeting their hips. Tav inhaled sharply, pushing themselves against him again in response.

"Gods," Rolan closed his eyes, laying his head back down, still gripping into their hips, "I worry I won't last long with you…" Tav smiled before leaning back into him to catch his lips again.

"I wouldn't hold it against you," they teased, biting his lip. Tav's mouth opened, licking between his lips, seeking entry. He immediately gasped and caught their tongue with his, breathing into them, drinking them in.

Tav's need for him was building as they ground themselves deeper. His hips bucking up and Tav moaning his name into his desperate mouth. He rolled into them again, gripping their hips and thighs tighter as he pressed their bodies together. This time, Tav's moan came out with a giggle, kisses now tracing across his jaw, his neck, below his ear.

"Fuck me," Rolan groaned.

"Are you asking?" Tav whispered.

They felt his cock under his robes twitch against them in response. His hands had moved from their thighs; now gripped tightly around their ass as he pushed himself against them. He was moaning - whimpering, really - from their words, from their touch, his legs practically shaking beneath them.

"Rolan," they sighed into his ear, "You need to tell me what you want…" Their hand sliding between them, under his robes, down to his crotch, stroking his fully erect member still tucked away by his pants.

"Ah!" Gods, he felt pathetic. Having already come undone by the slightest touch, his thoughts flooded with everything he wanted to do, everything he wanted them to do. It was so overwhelming he could barely think, let alone speak. Tav whispered into his ear again.

"Rolan, please," their chest pressed against his. He could feel their nipples puckering beneath their shirt. Tav was unrelenting, kissing and licking his ear, his neck, stroking his cock while pleasuring themself against his thigh.

"I - Ngh! - Tav, I - y-your mouth, please -" was all Rolan could squeak out between his heaving breaths. Tav smiled, biting his earlobe playfully, as if to thank him. Their hand left the length of him to instead unclasp the belt around his waist. He quickly followed their lead and removed the mantle adorning his chest, practically throwing it to the foot of his tent. Preparing to disrobe further, Tav stilled his hands.

"Let me," they whispered, leaning in to kiss him again. Between the kisses, the hums and moans of approval, Tav's hands slipped beneath Rolan's robes. Not fully undressing him, but rather pushing the layers of fabric away from him, revealing the lower length of his infernal chest. The hills and peaks of cartilage that ran across his tiefling bones now exposed, and Tav's kisses left his lips to find the skin at the base of his ribs. His fists clenched at either side of him as he inhaled sharply, their eyes glancing upwards as their tongue traced a line further down.

Slowly - Gods, so achingly slow - their fingers began to slip beneath the waistband of his trousers, his pants pitching shamefully high between his legs. His tail was now thumping to the side of him, causing Tav to release a muffled laugh against his pelvis. They ran their cheek along his thigh as they pulled his pants down with them. His cock dragged down, caught in the taught waistband, before the tip came free, bouncing upright, and dripping with his own anticipation.

Tav's eyes lit up. He was long. And his infernal features seemed to spread across more aspects of his body than they were expecting. The length of him adorned with ridges and divots they had never seen on any other being they'd had the pleasure of bedding. Eyes still wide, a grin creeping across their face, they glanced back up at Rolan.

His eyes were shut tight. Eyes, jaw, fists - all clenched. The only tell about him suggesting any excitement at all was the thick and throbbing member mere inches from their face, and the tail still lashing about the ground.

Before Tav touched Rolan's wanting length, their hand traced up to his, running across his wrist and up his arm, coaxing him to relax. He inhaled deeply, releasing a shaky breath as his hands came loose from their fists.

Eyes still closed, Tav kissed along the inside of his thigh and whispered, "Look at me?"

Rolan gasped quietly as his cock twitched, a pearl of pre release dripping down his length. His hand reached out, searching for Tav's head. He cupped their cheek as he allowed his eyes to lull open.

Tav held his free hand while the other ran up his thigh before allowing their thumb to tease and trace the skin at the base of him. His hips rolled slightly as more pre cum dripped from his head in want. Tav wrapped their hand around him, and made certain his eyes were trained on theirs as they licked their lips and left soft kisses at the base of his cock.

"Hells below," Rolan moaned, hips rocking with hesitation. Tav's mouth opened as their kisses grew sloppy, their tongue laving the side of him, their lips gently sucking at his skin. His hand had left their cheek and ran through their hair. He didn't dare grab them. He just watched, his cock twitching and throbbing, in pure disbelief.

They grazed their nose down his shaft before sticking out their tongue - wide, wet, flat - and dragging it up the entire length of him, catching all the droplets of his arousal that coated him. And upon reaching his head, Tav looked Rolan in the eyes, as they let the pre cum and saliva in their mouth drip from their tongue down his dick.

They rolled their eyes shut, wrapping their lips around the head of him, and began taking him into their mouth. Their tongue lax around his shaft, guiding the whole of his cock further into them, until they could feel his tip tease the back of their throat..

"Gods, Tav -" was all Rolan could manage, before the hand in their hair clenched into a fist, his hips rocking upwards, pushing himself further into their mouth. His hips moved in short, stuttering thrusts as a powerful release struck him. Pulsing ropes of cum shot down Tav's throat as they held him with confidence, swallowing every drop. Their tongue flexing against his shaft as they drank down his spend. Rolan whimpered infernal phrases Tav couldn't understand, his voice breaking between whatever psalms they thought he may be reciting, before it was replaced with mumbles in common, "Sorry… 'm sorry…"

A moment passed before Rolan's body finally stilled, his hand releasing gently from the tangled mess he made of Tav's hair. Shaky hands reaching to try to smooth out the wild strands as they raised themselves off of his softening member, peppering it with gentle kisses and tucking him back into his clothes before reaching their fingers up to wipe around their lips. They looked up at Rolan, their cheeks flush. A panting, open mouthed smile adorning their face. The tiefling looked upon them. His chest heaving and his mind blank, left speechless and sincerely unsure if he weren't in some wine-drunk fever dream, given the radiance of the creature knelt between his legs.

Tav crawled their way on top of him, leaning back in and kissing him deeply. Still dazed in the aftermath of his own release, he nearly didn't register the hero's touch. But his hands soon enough regained their feeling, and wrapped their way around Tav's waist, pulling them in to lay with him side-by-side. They kissed sweetly, like teenage lovers in a school yard - soft and surprisingly innocent - before Tav pulled back smiling, burying their face in the crook of Rolan's neck.

He held his partner for a moment, blissed out and reeling, before coming well enough to his senses to realize…

"Well, hold now. Don't get too comfortable," Tav's head raised to look at him, eyes dreamy and confused. Rolan scoffed with a smile, "What kind of man would I be not to return this favor?"

Tav laughed softly and pushed their head back into his neck, "You don't have to 'return' anything, Rolan. I enjoyed myself just fine."

They felt Rolan's hand smooth over their hair, falling down behind their ear and urging them to look up at him. They let his hand guide them back to face him, searching his eyes until he leaned in to kiss them again.

And again.

And again.

Tracing his tongue across their lips, breathing in the taste of him that still lingered on their skin. Kissing them until he felt their body rock against him. Running their hands up his chest, over his shoulders, down his back. Pulling him close at the waist. He could hear, and feel, the way they moaned into his mouth. He let his hand travel from the small of their back to the front of their leathers, trying his best to keep himself steady as he untied the laces.

Rolan felt Tav's hands grip him tighter at his waist while he worked to loosen their garments, until he felt there'd be room enough for his hand to slide beneath the fabric. He kissed them slow, praying they couldn't feel the way his hand trembled as he ran his fingers against their skin. Dipping below the hem of their trousers, tracing the back of his hand across the soft flesh where their stomach met their thighs. Their lips broke from his as they took in a sharp breath, eyes closing slightly at the gentle touch.

Rolan turned his hand around, his palm against their stomach, as he ran his fingers down. Further below their open leathers, teasing the lace of their underclothes with the tips of his fingers. They felt the pad of his fingertips pressing against the sensitive skin that lay hidden beneath their most intimate fabric. They lulled their eyes open to look back into the eyes of the man laying before them.

Warm and twinkling golden rings were watching them diligently, the iris a thin halo around his wide blown pupils. He ran gentle, hesitant circles over the dampening fabric between their legs, swallowing deep as they looked into his eyes. Their mouth hung open as quiet, gasping breaths escaped them. He had never seen anything more beautiful.

He pressed his fingers further between their folds, teasing their hole beneath their underclothes. Tav bit their lip, wincing slightly, and Rolan paused. Pulling his fingers back an inch, Tav immediately reached for his wrist, panting heavily. Rolan searched their face again, a wordless inquiry of concern.

"I, um," Tav started, suddenly nervous, "Your, um… your claws…" Rolan's cheeks flushed as he tried to pull his hand away from them, but Tav held his wrist tighter.

"Don't stop!" they choked out, perhaps a bit too hastily.

"Well, I…" Rolan swallowed, "I don't want to hurt you…" he carefully freed himself from Tav's grasp. For a moment, they feared he'd become too embarrassed to continue.

Rolan brought his hand to his lips, hesitating before biting off the ends of the claws on his two middle fingers, and turning his head to spit them out by the entrance of his tent. Tav's eyes went wide as they tried to hide their smile, their hands ghosting up Rolan's sides. He looked back at them, beginning to reach his palm back down towards their apex.

Before he got far, they stopped his wrist and brought his hand up to their mouth. Watching him closely, they laved his fingers with their tongue. Sucking gently, tracing between the two fingers, eyelids flitting to meet his gaze. They smiled as they felt his body shiver in excitement.

A thin trail of Tav's saliva stuck to his fingers as they pulled him from their mouth. They helped guide his hand back down between them, letting go when he found their stomach. Tav brought their hands down to their clothes, shifting to remove their pants and underclothes from their legs completely. Rolan took a sharp inhale, watching their bare bottom half as they got comfortable, trying - and failing - not to ogle at them, before willing his racing heart to steady itself. He traced his fingers lower, trailing over the slightly trimmed patch of hair between their thighs. Tav's hands found his neck and brought his face to their own. Closing the distance, close enough now to feel his breath on their skin, to hear when he tried to stifle his cries. Every moan and whisper to be shared in the space between them.

With no fabric to separate his touch, Rolan easily found his way between Tav's folds again. And now, he could feel just how shamefully wet they were for him. Their moans fell from their lips directly onto his, wordlessly begging him to continue. Sliding himself further, he used his outer fingers to spread them open, tracing his trimmed fingers across their entrance.

Tav pulled at his neck, rocking their hips against his hand and trying to coax his fingers into slipping inside. They lifted their leg to hook around Rolan's back. His eyes darted across their face, watching the way their eyes glazed over, the way their lips trembled in silent cries. His own breath shaking, he let his fingers sink into them.

The moan that rose from Tav's throat made his core tighten, he could feel his half hard length twitch in his trousers as Tav squeezed the back of his neck. They used their leg to pull his waist against them, urging him to keep going. Rolan froze for a moment, basking in - what he could only describe as - the celestial being laid beside him. All this, just from his hand. His chest burned, proud of how good he was making them feel. How good he needed them to feel from him - for him.

He moved his free hand to cup the side of their head, stroking his thumb across their cheek. Tav leaned into him, kissing his thumb before licking the tip of it into their mouth. Rolan groaned at the sight before even registering the warmth of their mouth around his digit.

"Tav," he whispered, his voice trembling. They let out a small laugh beneath their moans. They sucked his thumb, rolling it over their tongue, while they ran their hand down to his wrist between their thighs. They traced their fingers around the back of his hand, pushing him deeper into them. All the while, he could feel his cock growing firm all over again, as Tav sunk deeper into their own arousal.

"Keep going," they whispered around his thumb, as they rolled their hips against him. Their eyes locking with his, begging for him in the way they stared. Rolan pulled his hand away from their lips and dipped forward to kiss them, curling the fingers inside of them against their clenching walls. Tav whimpered his name against his mouth, holding his wrist tighter and locking their hands between their pressed bodies.

Rolan let his fingers follow the rhythm Tav set with their hips, pushing into them when they rocked closer and gauging what felt best for them by the way they sang into his mouth. He curled his fingers again, then spread them apart inside of them, making Tav clench him harder.

They took his free hand in theirs and brought it under their shirt, letting his fingers glide across their breasts. Rolan stilled at the prospect of touching them further as Tav released him, smiling against his mouth in wait. Rolan slowly let his hand cup the soft skin of their chest, at first, before tracing their stiff nipple under his thumb, and pinching it between his fingers.

"Gods, yes, Rolan," Tav urged him on, freeing both their hands from him and gripping his neck once more. Kissing him and encouraging him to continue, "Keep touching me, please."

Their begging seemed to be just what Rolan needed. The fingers inside of them started thrusting at a steady pace, his thumb making swiping motions across their swollen clit as he fucked them with his hand. The hand on their breast squeezing and massaging their skin, kissing them and sucking on their tongue before dipping his head down further and catching the nipple not occupied with his hands between his lips. Tav ran their fingers through his hair, one hand wrapping around the back of one horn as they muffled their moans into the top of his head. They could feel his cock twitching against their thigh as they fucked themselves on his fingers.

"Please don't stop, please don't - Fuck," Tav's breath hitched in their throat as Rolan's tongue swirled over their stiff bud, teasing it between his teeth and pressing his thumb harder against their clit. He could hear their heartbeat quicken in their chest, the frantic way their hips continued to rock against him, "Rolan! Rolan, I - Fuck!" They grabbed the side of his head and pulled him back up to face them, kissing him hard before pulling back and holding his gaze, "Make me cum, please. Please. Look at me and - and make me cum," tears pooled in the corner of their eyes as Rolan's fingers thrust into them, refusing to break eye contact with the divine being laying with him.

"Yes," he whispered, his voice low, heavy with lust, "Cum for me."

Tav's leg clenched against the small of his back, holding him against them as their hips rocked in short and steady bursts before finally going still. They held his gaze, their jaw locked in a gasp as they came against his hand.

Rolan could feel the way their inner walls gripped him, fluttering, as their labia pulsed in his palm pressed firmly against them. He could feel their shaking body against his own erect length tucked away. Try as he may to still himself from crying out when he felt himself cum against their thigh, a rather pathetic, squeaking cry still fell from his trembling lips. The climax itself sending shivers rocketing up his spine, and down his tail.

They moaned against each others mouths, Tav still whispering Rolan's name, and Rolan trying hard not to cry in full from the ecstasy of his own unexpected orgasm in the process. He could feel the way his ejaculate pooled uncomfortably in his pants. Yet, he hardly cared, as Tav's body trembled in the aftershocks of their own satisfaction. Their hands tangled in his hair, tracing their fingers along his neck and ears, panting into his mouth as they tried to steady themselves.

They pressed shaky kisses against his chest, right in the center of his collarbone, until their body finally relaxed. Rolan kissed the top of their head as he continued to hold them. And for a while, they lay just like this. Hot, sweaty, sticky, and spent, until Rolan could feel Tav stir in his embrace. He loosened himself from them as they sat upright, wondering if they needed to excuse themselves, head back to camp, now that they had…

"Um," Tav gripped their knees to their chest, "Do you have any clean rags?"

Rolan felt himself blush, shy, as if they weren't already sat half naked before him. He laughed to himself, "I do," he replied, "You're welcome to one, but. Um… I-If I may…?"

Tav looked at him, their own face flushed and tinged with confusion. Rolan's laid outstretched, offering them a spot back in his arms. They nodded softly, leaning back into his warmth. He let them lay across his arm, as he brought his free hand up to their chest. Resting his palm between the curves of their breasts, he kissed Tav's shoulder and traced his hand down their torso, resting between their legs.

Tav watched his hand anxiously, biting their bottom lip as their heartbeat picked back up. They heard Rolan whisper an incantation, and watched his hand glow a bright golden yellow, growing comfortably warm between their legs. The wizard let his fingers kiss their skin so very delicately, and Tav could feel the fluid from their release wash away. The discomfort of it having become cool and tacky against their skin, replaced with the feeling of a warm bath towel lovingly stroked across them.

They closed their eyes as soft sighs and moaning whispers fell from their tired lips, turning their head to kiss the tiefling beside them as he brought his spell to an end. His still warm hand resting under their thighs, pulled up and over his legs as he held them in their kiss.

When Tav finally rested their head into the warm crook of his shoulder, he reached beside his pillows for a light blanket to lay across their exposed legs. His tail slid out to close their tent flaps completely - Thank the Gods he chose such a solitary campsite this evening, he thought, as he realized just how exposed they've been this entire time.

When it seemed as if Tav may have drifted off, Rolan quickly cast the same prestidigitation upon himself to clean up his own mess, with significantly less flair for the dramatics this time. Finally ready to settle down and perhaps sleep for the evening with…

Rolan blinked as his eyes fell to the adventurer resting in his arms. Stray hairs framed the soft skin of their face, eyes closed and lips parted. Their hands were resting on his chest, one hand having two fingers loosely hooked into the ties of his robes. He let his eyes trail further down to the silhouette of their body beneath the thin lavender sheet he had placed across them. It flowed beautifully over their form, but still hugged the curves of their hips and thighs.

They had felt so soft, so… malleable. Rolan had been so use to his own infernal features. Hells, even before his reluctant spell of abstinence, he'd only ever been with other tieflings. So use to hard edges; the bones and spikes and horns and tails. He had never felt someone so… Soft. Fragile. He traced his his hand along the shape of them, and they gripped into his robe tighter. He froze, growing warm, realizing they were still awake.

They tilted their head up, eyes half open, and pulled him down into one final, sleepy kiss. His lips were warm as they smiled against him. Touching their noses to each other's, before Tav kissed his chin.

"Thank you," They mumbled, burying their face back into his chest. Rolan chuckled softly.

"For what?" He asked, but he never got an answer. Gentle snores came from the brave hero of the grove, who for some odd reason was still here, in his arms, seemingly asleep, with no intention of leaving until morning. Rolan smiled, kissing their temple softly, and settling in beside them.

"Of course, Tav," he whispered, For you? I'd do anything.