#I lied there is still four more chapter left after this

[kay9leo]

At First Glance...Part X

Chapter 9 <<<||| Chapter 10 ||| >>> Chapter 11

... At Poetic Sensibility

…

Poetic sensibility is the ability to deeply engage with poetry and experience its meaning and emotional impact beyond the words. It can involve making connections between the mind and senses, and can allow a writer to choose the right word to create a particular tone. – Google AI when you search up “poetic sensibility meaning”

…

“…so if you recall from Prof. Knorozov’s lecture last week, the symbols represent syllables. And these syllables are arranged in glyph blocks to sound out each word.  The way you’re supposed to read these Mayan runes is different than how we read our English letters. As a general rule, within each glyph block, the symbols are read from top to bottom and from left to right. But sometimes, certain words have their own glyphs like this one.” Sebastian explained to MC as he pointed out to rectangle glyph with waves inside.

It was breakfast and one of the few times he actually got up early to meet up with MC at the Slytherin dining table.

Before The Pensive Reminiscence as he started calling it, Sebastian would stay up late till the wee hours of the night reading book on possible cures and treatments until the letters would start to blur. Or until he passed out. He would wake up the next day with the book tenting over his face.

After The Pensive Reminiscence, Sebastian found himself going to bed on time, flying for fun (to the point he was hiding from Imelda who wanted to challenge him to a racing challenge or organize a pick-up game of Quidditch with him involved), lounging at the clock tower to see the others duel after his own match in Crossed Wands and just plain reading for fun.

Now that he wasn’t borrowing books that weren’t about curse breaking or curses, Sebastian would just pick whatever book struck his fancy and borrowed it to expand his knowledge – just for the sake of learning. Currently he had four books on his nightstand:

Apotropaic: How the Ancient Greek Warded

Unexpected Useful Runes from Around the World

Divine Magic: Myths of Magic Bygone

101 Muggle Scottish Poems to Know

He would rotate between the four books, often sticking to 101 Muggle Scottish Poems to Know and Divine Magic: Myths of Magic Bygone. While the former was a comfort novel, one of the few ways he could feel close to his late parents, the latter was the only book that he was able to gather information about Ancient Magic.

Not that there was much information to gather from it.

Heck, he was certain he could write his own book about MC’s magical abilities with Ancient Magic. He seen enough of what she could do with her special powers. His own book would be leagues better than this one with the information he can pass on to future users if he wrote one.

Not that he ever would.

Even he knew the dangers of having her abilities being spilled to the world.

And he wasn’t going to put his closest friend into danger like that.

MC was in enough danger with Rookwood and Ranrok interested in her. He didn’t forget how the two of them eavesdrops on them. He refused to think of what future ill-thought plans could befall on MC if her special ability came out.

She deserved to live a normal life.

Just like how he was slowly returning back to his.

All thanks to MC.

Life felt normal once more…only it was better.

“So, as you can see, this glyph over here represents the word fire and hot. If you crave this glyph into a stone, when it’s activated by magic, it essentially becomes a magical fire stove without flames. Makes sense?” He asked as he glanced back towards MC.

She was glaring at his notes, running her finger over the glyph he drew up in his notebook. While he was used to her silence as she would mentally take in data, the glare towards his notes was a new development.

“Is something wrong MC?” He frowned.

It has been two weeks since they had reunited once more and continued keeping the flame of their friendship.

Together.

While it was close to cooling coals at its worst during the Friendship Hiatus with neither of them feeding the flames, since that last quest to Isidora’s castle (as he started calling it), the fire has been renewed once more. Together, they worked to keep it feed by tossing in fuel to their metaphorical hearth with raids to the kitchen, trips to Hogsmeade, lounging around to talk and play games in the Undercroft, Common Room, Great Hall – essentially any little corner they could claim as theirs for that small portion of time.

“Nothing���just had a rough night.” She yawned.

Sebastian narrowed his eyes.

From the shadows underneath her eyes to her glare as she tried to focus on his notes…It seems as if they traded schedules with her being the sleep deprived friend this time.

“What happened?” He asked, thinking, Did you not need my help?

“Amit and Andrew – YAWNnnn – and I went looking for Astrology tables. It was the first time we had a clear night this week. But we couldn’t find what we were looking for and had to call it a night.” MC frowned as she rubbed her eyes.

“Oh…I’m sorry that didn’t work out for you.” He frowned. “Why did you wake up early than to review with me then? I would understand if you wanted to meet up later. I know what it’s like to pull nearly all-nighters.”

“Because it might be the only time we’ll meet up to review before Ancient Runes class.” MC said as she yawned once more. “And I like reviewing with you.” She said with a soft smile.

“That makes two of us.” Sebastian couldn’t help but smile, even if it felt like there were pixies running amuck in his belly as he met her cheerful tired eyes.

It was as if time itself froze and something had shifted that wasn’t there before.

Before Sebastian even had time to make a comment about how nice her hair looked or how she smelt differently from her usual mellowsweet with the citrus orange perfume that he always associated with her, a letter smacked her in the face and fell into her breakfast.

The owl post was here.

MC groaned as she plucked the letter out of her porridge and flipped it around to see who it came from.

Then it was as if she was dosed with ice water as she jumped up with a frown.

“Shit.” She cursed.

“Is something wrong?” He frowned as she pocketed the letter. She looked at him with sad hesitant eyes, erasing whatever cheer they once held for him.

“I have some business to attend with Fig.” She said as she started putting her stuff away.

“Oh.” He said as he held her satchel. “Do you want me to walk you there?” He said at the last second, wanting to extend their time together. Even if they nearly spent an hour reviewing early in the morning for the Ancient Runes class, it never seemed as if they spent enough time together.

“Don’t worry about it. Review without me. I’ll catch up with you later!” She grinned at him before giving him a peak on the cheek, stupefying him without even casing a spell as she walked away.

Sebastian stood there for who knows how long with his hand on his kissed cheeked until Ominis came and ordered him to sit down and stop mindlessly standing like a mannequin.

Sebastian did as told, mind elsewhere, drifting to whatever MC could be doing without him.

…

Ancient Runes went as it normally did. The two sat together in the morning with little to say as a quiz was placed in front of them. While the quiz was easy enough, they barely had time to talk or exchange notes as Prof. Knorozov charged into his lecture like a rampaging graphorn. There was only so many notes he could take as he did his best to draw down all the new runes they needed to study.

But it was fine.

MC would cover for him.

She would write down the information needed as he provided the detailed rune drawings. It was why they were both at the top of their class again. It wasn’t as if he missed his chance to talk with her as they split ways for their next class.

They still had dinner together.

But when dinner came, he found himself with only Ominis for company.

MC wasn’t sitting with them.

Instead, she sat between Thakker and Larson as if they were long-time buddies. They laughed as she pointed at something on the table, going over a map she pulled out earlier. Their meals were finished, dirty plates pushed to the side that would be vanished once they left their seat.  While he couldn’t see their facial reaction as their backs faced him, Sebastian knew that stance she held.

MC was going to go on another adventure.

The three of them got up and left the Great Hall, shoulders back and chins held high as their dirty dishes vanished.

She never even bothered to look back and wave goodbye to him before leaving like she did before the Friendship Hiatus.

While Sebastian knew that she picked up that habit because of the Friendship Hiatus. He never thought that it would remain.

Or that he would feel that same hurt from before.

…

Sebastian couldn’t sleep that night.

He tossed and turned, switched to laying his head on the foot side before deciding there was no point in staying up. When he checked the time, it was only one in the morning. A late night on his new post-The Pensive Reminiscence schedule. An early bedtime on his ante-The Pensive Reminiscence schedule.

With nothing working and a slight fear of waking up Ominis, Sebastian sighed and picked up a book at random on his nightstand and walked out, wearing his nightrobe over his pajamas to keep the chill away. While he wasn’t surprised to see a few students still up at this hour, reviewing notes, going over homework or even playing chess, some were surprised to see him again as he took his usual spot on the couch by the fireplace and sat down to read the book he picked up at random.

101 Muggle Scottish Poems to Know

“Nothing a little light reading can’t cure.” He mumbled to himself as he flipped to the index and searched for his favorite poems – “Address to a Haggis” – he thought it was hilarious as a child. “My Heart’s in the Highlands” – he always had pride as a Scotsman and would tell any city kid who would listen when they went to Glasglow, Edinburgh or even London the rural beauty that surround his small village of Aranshire.

“Tam O’Shanter” was by far his favorite due to the particular way his father would change his tone as he read the tale-like poem to him and Anne during bedtime. A second look at the poem, he found himself rather annoyed with the main character in the harm he caused his loyal mare by causing her to lose her tail.

Sebastian sighed and looked through to see what other poems the book had on Robert Burns.

While Sebastian wasn’t as in tune with muggle culture, he couldn’t deny that their writings were rather delightful. He could see why his father had favored Robert Burns as a poet; so much that the muggle man became his namesake for his second name in Scottish form: Raibeart. Anne herself was also named after their mother’s favorite Scottish poet, Anne Grant. His parents were avid readers – whether it be reading studies for their field, poetry and even plays! His own first name –Sebastian– and Anne’s second name –Viola– came from his parent’s favorite play Twelfth Night. They were both named after the twins in the muggle play. While he didn’t understand it as a child why his parents wanted to built his interest in writing –especially poetry– he could see what charm some of his least poems as a child held.

While “A Red, Red Rose” still felt too lovey-dovey for his taste, taking a second look at “O, Wert Thou in the Cauld Blast”, Sebastian found that he actually rather liked the poem now as a young man. While he and Anne would stick their tongue out at how love-struck their father would act when he would sing the poem to their mother, Sebastian found a rather simple joy in reading it now that he understood the meaning behind its words–

“What are you reading?” An unexpected voice said above him.

If anyone dared asked (with his wand pointed at them to help encourage a different question), Sebastian would say that the shout was simply from the joy hearing his friend again and NOT from the blind fright she gave him that had him tossing the book into the air and jumping up, leading him to strike MC’s face.

To top the eventful fright off, his book ended up striking the top her head.

“I guess that serves me right for not announcing myself.” MC laughed before wincing as she rubbed her right eye.

“MC! I’m sorry!” Sebastian said as he got up from the floor and dashed up to her. “Let me take a look at that! I didn’t mean hit you!” He frowned as he gently pulled her hand away from her covering her right eye.

He hissed. Sebastian could already tell the bruising would lead to a black eye from experience.

“Shite. MC I didn’t mean to hurt you.” He frowned as he bit his bottom lip, Okay, so what are some spell I could use to minimize the swelling? I know Glacius at a smaller scale is often used to prevent the swelling…there are also some ointments I can try to numb the pain as well–

“Don’t worry about it Sebastian. Imelda has some cream she uses for bruises. You’ll be surprised how often you can get them during pick-up quidditch.” MC laughed. “She’s more than happy to share them with me considering I’m one of the few that actually plays with her.”

“Oh.” He frowned as MC turned around and picked up a book, mumbling,

“So that’s what struck me.” Then she turned to him. “I never took you for a poet type of guy. Are you planning to woo someone with some pretty words?” She smirked.

“No. I uh…I couldn’t sleep, and I figured reading some poetry will tire me out.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

“Looks like it failed. It’s three in the morning.” MC giggled as she looked through the page the book fell on.

“It is?” Sebastian narrowed his eyes as he took a glance around the Common Room. The only souls up at this time were just him and MC. “Oh…” He said as he looked at MC and frowned.

While he was in his pajamas with only his nightrobe for warmth, MC was still wearing the same clothes she had at supper. In fact, they looked worse with her school robe littered with dirt, leaves and cuts. Her face wasn’t any better either now that he took a second look at it. She wore grime like makeup blush and chalk-like dust on her hair as if it was powder. The forbidden forest was her perfume instead of the orange citrus he had grown accustomed to.

Sebastian opened his mouth to speak, but before he could even question where she had been, MC was faster to ask:

“What does this poem even mean Sebastian?”

“What?” he blinked.

“This poem – here take a look. I saw you reading it earlier but it’s written in a Scottish Brogue that I can’t quite understand. See?” MC said as she showed him the poem he was just reading.

“Oh. That’s “O, Wert Thou In the Cauld Blast”. It’s a Robert Burns poem. A classic to Scotland.” Sebastian stated, like a teacher answering a student’s question.

“Can you read it to me in Standard English? There are still some Scottish words that unfortunately I don’t understand. As you can see, I’m still actually rather unfamiliar to the Scottish dialect.” MC chuckled as she rubbed the back of her neck.

“I’m surprised. You been running around the Highlands hamlets for ages now. How did you even communicate with them without me on your quests?” He chuckled, trying to not let his bitterness sweep into his tone.

“It helps when you speak with a foreign accent. Suddenly, everyone’s wants to befriend you instead of giving you the stink eye when you use the Queen’s English.” MC chuckled. “Not that I can blame them. They are rather upset at the Ministry down in London for failing to do their duty up here.” MC said as she sat down at the couch and patted the seat next to her.

“It really shouldn’t be up to fifteen-year-olds like us to take care of the Ashwinders problem. Or the Loyalist.” He said as she sat next to her.

“Or Poachers. At least we didn’t have any issue with them tonight.” MC sighed as she leaned against him, staring down at the book. Sebastian placed his arm around her, giving her a side hug as she partly nested against his chest.

“Did something happen tonight? You know you can always ask me to come join you in your Astronomy Table hunts…even if it’s at a late hour.” He frowned, thinking, I rather you have my wand as back-up instead of Thakker and Larson.

“Thanks for the offer, but I think you would find Astronomy Tables rather boring. I’ve notice how you always do your homework for that class last.” MC giggled as she looked up to him with that bright smile that wasn’t there earlier.

“Not my fault that I find starting at constellations rather boring. When will I ever use that information in the future?” Sebastian grinned at her as felt that warmth in his chest once more when she smiled back.

“I found it’s a rather useful map to navigate by. As long as I know where Polaris is, I can always find my way back home.” MC grinned. “Now no more stalling, what does that poem mean in the Queen’s English? I still can’t wrap my head around the fact that the Scottish dialect can be written down like that; I’m all too used to seeing “proper” English writing.” MC chuckled.

“How ‘bout I read it to you. In Queen’s English for my London girl?” Sebastian smirked as he felt that pixie-like feeling in his abdomen.

“I’m not actually from London you know?” MC lifted an eyebrow with a smirk.

“Could’ve fooled me.” Sebastian laughed as he read her the poem in his best posh voice that would’ve made Solomon proud. Not that his uncle ever cared about him.

Except for whatever he did wrong.

“The poem, in Standard English, is called “O, Were You In the Cold Blast”. It’s written by my da’s favorite poet. Rabbie Burns.” Sebastian said with a proud smile on his lips as he read:

“O, were you in the cold blast

On yonder meadow, on yonder meadow,

My plaid to the angry direction,

I would shelter you, I would shelter you,

Or did Misfortune’s bitter storms

Around you blow, around you blow,

Your shelter should be my bosom,

To share it all, to share it all.”

He said as his voice took on a cantor tone and he found himself singing the next stanza.

“Or were I in the wildest waste,

So black and bare, so black and bare,

The desert were a Paradise,

If you were there, if you were there.

Or were I monarch of the globe,

With you to reign, with you to reign,

The brightest jewel in my crown

Would be my queen, world be my queen.”

“You have a nice voice Sebastian.” MC yawned. “Ever thought about being a singer? They could use you in the West End theaters in London” She said as she smiled at him with those happy bright tired eyes.

“I’ll sing to you if that’s what you like.” He hummed with a smile.

“Can you sing it to me the way it’s written? I rather like listening you sing.” She said as she laid against his chest once more. “You have a rather nice accent.”

“As you wish.” He said with a smile.

So, he sang the original words in the Scottish Brogue he was taught to loathe. And when he looked down to see what MC thought, he found her sleeping soundly against his chest. Without giving it a second thought, he pulled them back, to lay against the couch, with her closer to the inside and him on the edge. Letting her use his shoulder as a pillow as he laid down his head against the armrest, he leaned down and kissed the top of her head before any thought could stop him.

He sighed smiling, as he hummed in a whisper,

“O, wur ye in th’ cauld blast

On younder lea, on younder lea,

Mah plaid tae th’ angry airt,

I’d shelter thee, I’d shelter thee,

Or did Misfortune’s bitter storms

Around thee blaw, around thee blaw,

Thy bield shuid be mah bosom,

To share it a’, to share it a’.”

Soon he fell asleep soon enough, holding her snuggly like a niffler with its treasured gold.

…

They woke up a little bit before dawn, before their peers would walk down the stairs and the sun’s rays could beam through the lake to greet the Slytherin Common Room.

MC was the first to awaken.

Sebastian knew that as much as he knew his favorite sweet was Bertie Bort’s and his favorite physical activity was dueling as much as he knew who those hands belong to as they slapped his face and the voice mumbling to him as if he was underwater.

Which was odd since they were somehow in the clock tower as well, with her in his arms as they laid down on the couch that was bought up here ages ago. There was no one else here besides them as they waited for their next opponents to come.

Everybody left.

Even Ominis.

They needed to rest up before the next fight. So, they laid down on the couch and took a break. He didn’t even realize he had closed his eyes after hugging her.

Or was it a warm pillow that he found?

“Wake up Sebastian.” She mumbled.

“Five mair minutes…” He mumbled back, snuggling his head against his pillow as he hugged the other in his arm against his torso.

The latter was surprisingly warm.

“Sebastian, let me go! Please!” MC hissed at him as he felt her slap his cheeks once more.

“Ya can’t lea. They’ll be ‘ere soon enough.”

“I need to pee!”

“Fine…juist come back whin ye’r dane. We still hae one mair dueling double tae play.” He mumbled into the pillow. “Can’t let Weasley ‘n’ Prewett tak’ th’ championship spot.”

“Of course not.” MC snorted before softly saying, “Just let me go and I’ll be right back.” She whispered.

“Promise?” He mumbled. He didn’t want to lose her again.

“I promise. Now let go of me you hugger.” She grumbled.

“Bit ah lik’ hugs.” He said as he hugged her even tighter.

“And I like to use the loo.”

“Fine.” He mumbled back. “Juist return afore Prewett claims wur forfeiting th’ match.” He grumbled as he loosened his grip and felt his lovely warm pillow roll over him.

“Don’t worry I will.” She mumbled back, as if she was far away.

“MC?” He said as he grabbed hold of her hand before she removed it from his chest.

“Sigh…yes Sebastian?”

“Kin we go oan another quest? Fur fin?” He mumbled as he weakly opened his eyes to greet hers. “Ah miss daein’ that wi’ ye.” He smiled.

“Really?” She said. Why did she sound so pleasantly surprised?

“Aye. Can’nae let everybody else hae all th’ fin. Ah din’nae lik’ it whin ye lea me behind.” He mumbled, closing his eyes as he felt a warmth on the back of his hand that felt softer than his skin.

“Me neither.” She smiled as she gave him head scritches.

“Guid.” He nodded his head before he narrowed his eyes and looked at her once more in his dazed sleep. “Ye know a loue ye?”

Her hand froze. Then it started moving once more.

“I didn’t know.” She mumbled.

“Ah dae. Ah din’nae wantae lose ye.” He mumbled as he closed his eyes, feeling sleep drag him back into the void. They still had time for a nap before their next match.

“You won’t. I promise I’ll be back. And I’ll get you a blanket and pillow as well.”

“Thank ye. Ye’r th’ best loue.” He said back. “Mak’ sure that ye nap tae. Sleeping is guid fur dueling.” He mumbled as he accepted void as his home and was fast asleep once more.

…

The next time he woke up, Sebastian found his head on a pillow with a warm blanket warped over him.

Shoot. I didn’t mean to accidently fall asleep like that. Sebastian frowned as he sat up. He was still in his pajamas and nightrobe. The book that he was reading last night, 101 Muggle Scottish Poems to Know, was placed on the coffee table with a note written on top of it next to the muffin that definitely wasn’t there last night.

I didn’t want to wake you. Thank you for your kind words last night. I really needed it. See you at lunch!

-MC.

P.S. Enjoy the muffin! Stop skipping breakfast to sleep in!

“I feel like I forgot something.” Sebastian frowned. He knew something happened, but for the life of him, he just couldn’t remember it. He shrugged. “Oh well.” He said as he got up and started preparing for the day before he was late for class.

Again.

...

Chapter 9 <<<||| Chapter 10 ||| >>> Chapter 11

[cryptidghostgirl]

Make You Wish Chapter Four -- Vox

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Warnings: I don't think there are any for this chapter? Correct me if I am wrong.

Word Count: 1,225

Previous Part: Chapter Three -- A Reunion

Master Lists 

Hazbin Hotel Master List 

Make You Wish Master List

A/N I wasn't planning on posting this until tomorrow, but it seems to have some rather excited fans so here is chapter four (and the fourth thing I'm publishing today. We're very done for the day. I am tried and have actual work to do.) Also guys, I'm screaming. I accidentally deleted the whole things right before I was gonna post it. Thankfully I had a draft from when it was almost done save but like, god that sucked.

On the screen was Vox, seated behind a desk.

"Top of the hour and we're discussing a certain has-been how has been spotted cavorting around town after a seven year absence." Vox was saying, a poorly drawn image of Alastor displayed on the screen to his left.

Y/n saw Alastor's ear twitch with irritation.

"Yeah." she sighed, folding her arms across her chest, "Vox has gone kinda crazy since you left. I told you, things got tough."

"Did anybody miss him? Did anybody notice? More on tonight's program." Vox said through the TV, shuffling a stack of papers.

Alastor changed the channel with another flick of his finger.

"Hun, don't worry yourself with it." Y/n advised, "He's still gonna be there tomorrow."

The new channel showed a talk-show set up, Vox-2-Nite, where Vox was both host and guest.

"So, the old Radio Demon is back in town." host Vox was saying to himself as guest.

"Why is he hanging around?" guest Vox asked, taking a sip from a mug that had 'fuck Alastor' written on the side.

"Al." Y/n warned, sensing her friends irritation growing.

"What does that mean for your family?" Host Vox asked before Alastor changed the channel again.

Vox was on the screen again, before a bright red curtain.

"Well, handily, I've got good news." he was saying theatrically, "He's a loser, a fossil, and I don't mean to sound hostel-"

Alastor changed the channel again. This time to one of Vox's mega church broadcasts. Vox stood in the center of the screen wearing a pope's hat with an inverted cross on it.

"But the demon is a coward!" he announced, his words matching the previous channels sentiments perfectly.

"Jesus, V." Y/n asked, eyes wide, "How many channels are you running this on?"

"You can take that as gospel. Pulling my viewers? Impossible. I'm visual, he's barely audible."

"Y/n." Alastor hummed, his eyes still fixed on the screen.

"Yeah?"

"You wont mind if I handle this quickly. We can have our little chat after, I promise. It wont take more than a moment."

"I don't know, Al..." Y/n sighed, crossing her arms and tapping her foot slightly, "This isn't good for you, letting him get under your skin like this."

Alastor changed the channel again. A cooking show appeared and Vox was standing before the oven, singing along to the music playing in the background.

"But he should've stayed away! While he hid in radio, we pivoted to video!"

Vox on screen turned to the oven as he sang, opening it and pulling out a deer's head on a plate. Y/n bristled at the site, her horns growing just the tiniest bit longer, her teeth just the smallest bit sharper.

"And now his medium is getting bloody rare!"

"Al?" Y/n asked sharply.

"Yes, darling?"

"I lied." Y/n turned to face him, "He took this shit musical. Rip him a new one."

"Oh!" Millie exclaimed, excitedly grabbing onto Moxxie's arm, "We're gonna get a show!"

Alastor's grin widened at Y/n's words, if that was even possible. He stuck his hand out to the side, his microphone materializing in his grasp.

"Lucky for me, I've got the best voice this side of the divide on my side." he noted, shooting Y/n a look.

Her eyes flashed red.

"You flatter me."

Alastor brought his microphone to his mouth, suddenly exceedingly calm. The imps present in the room watched in shock as his ears flattened along his head.

"Salutations, good to be back on the air!" he announced into the device, "Yes I know it's been a while since someone with style treated hell to a broadcast. Sinners rejoice!"

Vox's brow furrowed on the TV screen as he inched up close to the camera.

"What a dated voice." Vox shot back, clearly listening to Alastor's broadcast on the set of his cooking show.

"Instead of a clout chasing, mediocre, video podcast." Alastor continued, not showing any sign he had noticed the TV demon's insult, "Is Vox insecure, pursuing allure? Flitting between this fad and that, is nothing working?"

"Ignore his chirping!" Vox commanded from the TV.

Y/n laughed and, turning to face Alastor, realized the man held a hand out to her. With a smile, she took it and he spun her into his arms as he spoke. The music echoed through the office as Alastor raised the volume on the TV once again.

"Every day he's got a new format."

Alastor spun Y/n back out again as the pair began dancing.

"You're looking at the future!" Vox yelled back, "He's the shit that comes before that!"

As Alastor spun Y/n back into his arms, she laid one of her hands on top of his holding the microphone and pulled it closer to her face.

"Is Vox as strong as he purports, or is it based on his support?" she sang in a clear voice, Blitzo, Millie, and Moxxie's eyes widening with recognition at the sound, "He'd be powerless without the other Vees."

"That's true!" Alastor noted, pulling the microphone back to himself as Y/n let go of his hand and he spun her back out again.

"It can't be..." Moxxie muttered under his breath.

"Holy shit!" Millie cut him off, excitement creeping into her voice, "There's no way, Y/n is the guest star?"

"The fuck are you two talking about?" Blitzo asked, turning to Millie and Moxxie as they watched the couple continue to dance.

"Well, Sir," Moxxie began, fiddling with the cuffs of his jacket, "back before the Radio Demon went missing, he used to bring guests onto the show on occasion. There was one guest he never named during his broadcasts however. She mostly just sang songs and chatted with him but, she sounded an awful lot like Y/n did just now."

"You don't say." Blitzo hummed, his arms crossed as he turned back to Y/n and Alastor, "So much for little miss 'oh, my life has been so boring. You'd probably just fall asleep if I started talking about it!' She is so gonna get it later."

Alastor let go of Y/n's hand and leaned into the microphone, beginning to sing as well, using the music emanating from the TV as a base.

"And here's the sugar on the cream: he asked me to join his team!"

"Hold on!" Vox yelled.

"I said no and now he's pissy, that's the tea!" Alastor finished, ignoring the demon once again.

"You old timey prick!" Vox exclaimed, his face glitching slightly as Y/n wandered back over to Alastor.

She leaned an elbow on his shoulder, tilting her head to the side in amusement as they watched Vox struggle.

"I'll show you suffering!"

"Aww, the TV is buffering." Y/n said, leaning into the microphone, her voice dripping with sickly sweet pity.

"I'll destroy yoo-o-u-u" Vox exclaimed as his technical difficulties seemed to grow worse.

Alastor and Y/n exchanged a wicked pair of smiles as the TV flickered out. Shadows crept from the edges of the room, encircling their feet. Alastor held an arm out to Y/n once again which she took with a smile. In a flash of darkness, they were gone.

"What the fuck was that?" Loona asked, stalking into the room.

----

Next Part -> Chapter Five -- The Conversation

[delirious-donna]

A Shaky Arrangement [Part Three]

story summary: Your best friend lets you crash at her place over the spring break since you have nowhere else to go. Little did you know that it isn't actually her place. Instead, it belongs to a tall (grumpy) hot guy who finds you in his apartment–her brother.

chapter summary: You've nowhere else to go, surely he wouldn't kick you out so easily? You are so very attractive after all...

pairings: Nanami Kento x female reader

warnings: sibling bickering, mentions of food, SFW

Part Two | Series Masterlist | Part Four

Kento scowled.

He sat stiffly on the leather couch that occupied most of the living room space, watching as you took container after container out of a brown paper bag with a grease stain pooling at the bottom. The desire to march to the kitchen and find the surface spray and kitchen towel to wipe up any damage to his coffee table was rampant. But he didn’t. He sat still with a growing grimace.

“You think you could stop scowling at me?” you said from your spot on the floor, sitting cross-legged with your back to him. “I can feel your distaste crawling up my spine.”

“I am not scowling,” he lied mulishly.

“Yes, you are, but whatever. I did ask if you wanted to add anything to the order. You were the one to turn your nose up at Chinese takeout. I guess you’re used to the finer things in life, Mr Nanami.”

His mouth opened to respond, but he snapped it shut just as quickly. He would not get into a petty argument over his preference of cuisine. The sinking feeling of resignation reared its head once more. Could he honestly share his apartment with you for the next two weeks without you both at each other’s throats?

“Remind me again why am I even considering hosting you?” He half hissed, pinching the bridge of his nose, and sat forward in his seat until his elbows were braced upon his knees.

You paused. The chopsticks you were using to pile rice onto an expensive-looking plate froze in midair. At last, you twisted your neck to look around, adopting a sheepish expression.

He was right, as annoying as that fact might be.

This was his home, and he had every right to send you on your merry way, whether you had somewhere to stay or not–the latter being the case. You were sharply reminded of his stricken features when you explained your plight. How he had grabbed up the glass which you had just finished draining of whatever potent amber liquor he preferred and went looking for a refill. A large one. A large one which he swallowed in one long gulp.

Kento had the same eyes as his sister, Karin. They were rich hazel, and they had the strange ability to lighten or darken depending on their mood. They crackled like popping logs in a roaring hearth when joyful or amused and darkened to the deepest mahogany when angered or upset. This you noticed as he questioned you over and over, his fingers running ruefully through his hair and those eyes that followed your every nervous jerk or twitch became pits of darkness.

“Sorry,” you said quietly. “Are you sure I can’t tempt you into sharing something with me? I ordered way too much, there will be leftovers for days if you don’t.” It was your version of a peace offering. Anything to prevent him from backtracking on the shaky agreement you had reached.

Kento’s nose wrinkled in distaste at the thought of leftovers crowding his fridge and the smells that might permeate into the fresh produce or homemade meals that were labelled and waiting to be eaten.

With a long sigh, he lowered himself to the floor and sat by your left elbow. “Fine. It is probably wise for me to put something other than alcohol in my stomach anyway. Serve yourself what you want and I’ll have what is left.”

“Aye, captain!”

“Don’t do that,” he scolded, rolling his eyes at your salute, but there was no heat in the words. If anything, he was amused and you smiled knowingly to yourself as you began to dig into the meal.

He must be truly mad to be entertaining this prospect, but there was something he liked about you, even if he tried his best to deny it. You pushed back against him. It was refreshing. Kento enjoyed your quick wit and the ease with which you conversed with him. Sure, it was often at his expense but it was enjoyable in a way it never had been before.

As the youngest ever senior partner at work, he commanded respect from all. The junior partners and even those on the governing board often bowed their heads in reverence when in his presence. Yet it wasn’t so long ago that he had been a fresh-faced college graduate eager to reach his current lofty heights and he wondered absently if you possessed the same drive and determination. You certainly weren’t easily intimidated.

“Do you have a girlfriend, Mr Nanami?”

So lost in thought, Kento almost missed your question. It took him a moment to process and when it finally hit home, he nearly choked on his bite of peking duck.

“Excuse me?” he spluttered, banging a fist on his chest to clear the blockage in his throat.

Your cheeks warmed in amusement, impishly shrugging whilst you toyed with the remnants on your plate. It had been on your mind for a little while now. Your host was handsome—a thought you kept coming back to no matter how hard you tried to ignore it.

“I said, do you have a girlfriend?” you repeated.

“I don’t see what business that is of yours.”

He busied himself with rolling back the sleeves of his pristine white button up. Your lips quirked before you blew out a puff of air.

“Come on. It’s a simple question, no? Since you’ve agreed to give me a place to stay, surely I should know if I might run into someone else whilst I’m here.”

You had a point, and that bugged him. He was about to answer when you went on, nudging your elbow into his side and he caught a whiff of his body wash on your skin.

“Boyfriend then?” You baited him, though there would be no shame in it if he were more inclined towards his own sex. Other than perhaps the briefest disappointment. No! Shut that down now, you thought to yourself.

“Neither. If you must know.” He levelled an unimpressed stare in your direction and wiped his hands on a napkin.

How annoying the flare of hope that illuminated in your chest upon hearing his answer was. It had no place here, and you did your best to flatten your features into neutrality. You failed.

“I do, however, have a cleaner that visits each morning for a few hours to keep the place how I like it. I will alert Mrs McGarden that I have a guest so that she doesn’t enter your room without consent.” He nodded his head as if that was the end of the matter, trying and failing not to notice how you chewed your lip as if you were deep in thought. Cute.

“Speaking of rooms…” you trailed off as the first wave of tiredness hit you square in the face. It was early by your standards but the day had been filled with ups and downs like nothing you’d experienced before. “Where will I be sleeping?”

It was an innocent enough question, or you had meant it that way, but the lull that Kento left hanging over you both felt thick with something tangible but unknown. Right now your suitcase was still spread open wide on what you now knew to be his bed and you surely wouldn’t be sleeping there.

Before he could answer, his phone rang from the kitchen island, shrill and loud. “Excuse me a moment,” he said, hurriedly moving for the device and slipping down the hallway until he was out of sight.

“I can explain! Don’t yell.” The familiar voice said the second the phone was to his ear. Karin had finally braved his wrath and called back.

“I’ll give you two minutes.”

“Kento! I am not one of your underlings. Not that it matters, shut up. What was I saying?” Karin hissed through the phone and even without seeing her he knew that she was pushing hair out of her face as she always did when she was flustered or annoyed.

He sighed and silently counted to three. “Two. Minutes. Explain.”

“You’re meant to be out of the country, why aren’t you? I didn’t think you’d ever find out,” she hurried on, not waiting for an answer. Kento had long since known when not to interrupt his sister in full flow. “Mrs McGarden assured me that she would keep silent and I was only trying to help out a friend. She tried to refuse my offer. Said she’d find a couch or two to sleep on instead, can you imagine? You haven’t… kicked her out, have you?”

“I was firmly coerced into taking a vacation instead of attending the conference hence my presence. It seems I need to have words with Mrs McGarden as to where her loyalties lie, and no, I have not kicked your friend out,” he answered the questions in the order they were given, turning on the spot in his bedroom. “Though I have been sorely tempted,” he lied.

Karin audibly harrumphed. “Don’t lie, Kento, it’s not a good trait.”

“Who says I’m lying?”

“Oh, whatever. I don’t have time for your little temper tantrum. Y’know… I think she might be a good influence on you, relax you a little. You’re on vacation so maybe spend some time with your guest? She is very dear to me and I’ve got a lot of explaining to do since I never mentioned you to her.”

Kento could hear the genuine worry in her voice and it cooled some of the fires of his anger. His shoulders slumped and half-heartedly he agreed, even if he didn’t have any intention to do as Karin suggested. He would keep to himself and hope that you did the same.

He returned to the living room but found it empty. Glancing to the side he found you in the kitchen washing up the plates and humming. For a moment he simply stood and watched. Considering he had only just met you, he didn’t mind seeing you in his space and the words of his sister echoed in his mind.

“You didn’t need to do that,” he stated, finally making his presence known once more.

Smiling, you shrugged him off. “It was the least I could do, don’t worry about it.”

“Uh, Karin sends her apologies for the mixup. She assures me that she will make it up to you and explain everything when you see her next. Shall we pick a room for you now?”

Your chin jutted out, a wrinkle forming between your eyebrows at the mention of his sister. Kento could tell that Karin was going to be in for hell, and rightly so, when you reunited.

“Yes please, I’m pretty tired after… well, you know,” you stammered with an awkward laugh.

He did indeed know, though he would rather forget. Instead, he held out his arm for you to step ahead of him and followed you discreetly towards the two bedrooms that you could choose from.

The first was on the right and nearest to the living space, this was the room that Karin occupied when she visited and her mark was firmly stamped upon the interior. Kento watched from just outside the doorway as you tried and failed not to wince at the baby blue walls and the mountains of overstuffed pillows piled atop a cream bedspread with lace and frills.

In the corner stood her old dollhouse, untouched and in pristine condition thanks to a certain cleaner with whom he still needed to have several words with. You froze before it, curiosity lighting in your eyes and slowly you bent to inspect through the windows where the tiny families resided.

Before he could speak, you whirled around and brushed past with a soft apology for coming so close to him. Again, he could smell his body wash on you and he liked it even more this time.

“I don’t think this room will do,” you mused with downcast eyes.

“Not fond of dolls?” he guessed in what was more meant to be a joke but your guilty expression told him he had hit the nail on the head.

“There is another room, but… it’s next to my own. I hope you won’t mind?” Kento stalked forward and tilted his head in the direction of the room next to his.

You trotted after him and away from the prying eyes of the dolls in their fancy house, vowing silently not to enter that room again. You reached for him, anxious fingers clinging to the shirt encasing his bicep and tugging like a frightened child might do. It was his turn to freeze, his stare fixed on where you held him until he found your eyes and questioned the gesture without a word.

“You won’t tell her, will you? I just…” You shook your head and feigned a smile, you were being silly after all. “Nightmares as a child, that’s all.”

“My lips are sealed.” He smiled kindly until your hand fell away. “Now, come inside and see if this will do.”

He didn’t know what he’d do if it wasn’t, although he didn’t expect you were an overly demanding house guest even with the little he knew about you. He wasn’t above giving you his bed if it were necessary but it would be a last resort.

This room was decorated in soft pastel shades that were far less bright than the blue of Karin’s. The bed was turned down with what appeared to be an identical grey duvet to the one in the master bedroom.

There was a small vanity set opposite the window and a writing desk in the far corner. Everything was neutral in here, wiped clean as if it had never been occupied and it made you feel safe and warm.

“It’s perfect.”

Sitting on the corner of the bed, you glanced at Kento who stood respectfully in the door. He wasn’t looking at you, instead his eyes were wandering as if he were checking everything was clean enough. His frame filled the doorway, shoulders broad and imposing. Except you didn’t find him imposing, and that was the problem.

He must be at least five years older than you, not that you cared, you were a young woman not a teenager. You were reminded of how long you had gone without a boyfriend or even a lover. One night stands and casual situationships were never your thing so it had been some time since you had last felt an attraction like you did now.

This whole day felt like a fever dream.

You needed to rein in your train of thoughts but it was hard when Kento took a step deeper inside and the air seemed suddenly thick like syrup. His hands were deep in his pockets and finally he blew out a breath, making it easier for you to breathe too.

“If you’re sure. I’ll go grab your suitcase and bag for you,” he offered quietly.

It had to be your imagination but it seemed like he was struggling as much as you were. Although likely for a different reason. You were an unexpected guest and he very much seemed the type of person who was set in routine. You nodded your thanks and let him slip away.

“He is your best friend’s brother, get your act together woman! Stop lusting over him,” you scolded yourself in a hushed whisper.

It was going to be a long two weeks, that was for sure.

[sincerelyrki]

PIKA PIKA

↳ NISHIMURA RIKI SMAU

fate works in different ways, sometimes it even comes disguised as a life sized pikachu and a clumsy idol.

SYNOPSIS ➙ Niki knew that the pikachu’s on stage with them were real people dressed in a costume but that doesn’t mean he can’t get shocked after accidentally revealing one of their identities. his shock quickly changed to amusement as the revealed pikachu could only think of one thing to say as the tension in the room heightened- “pika pika?” it’s not like you could avoid him after humiliating yourself either, you still have all of tour left.

PAIRING ➙ idol!riki x nonidol!fem!reader

WARNINGS + GENRE ➙ smau. fluff. riki is down bad. forced proximity. opposites attract. reader is the leader of a 5 member dance group. angst. friendly fighting. real fighting (js one scene). overprotective riki. jealousy. yn gets in some fights. older reader (a year older). more to be added if necessary.

STATUS ➙ STARTED ! HIATUS [march 27, 2024]

TAGLIST ➙ OPEN ! send an ask or comment to be added

FEAT ➙ chuu (soloist). jaehyun (boynextdoor). wonbin (riize). ricky (zerobaseone). yuma (&team)

A/N ➙ i lied this one comes before he loves me not 😝😝 anywaysss

spotify playlist

PROFILES

| chuu’s chu (plural)

| emflopout

| yn’s dads

| fan accounts aka the holy grail

CHAPTERS

| one : if you want something to play with get a pikachu

| two : Shit day 😔

| three : girl he doesn’t want you [ written ]

| four : merrily we fall out of line…

| five : 1 2 3 any boys here? ❤️😍😝

| six : cake and candles my brother [ written ]

| seven : take off your sunglasses

| eight : fuck ass tom holland

| nine : reliable car max?

| ten : twenty questions

| eleven : MADE IT TO THE PRIV 💪

| twelve : my pini <3

| thirteen : i think i have a stalker

tba + titles are subject to change

@ SINCERELYRKI do not plagiarize, translate, copy or repost

[bakugoushotwife]

kinktober day thirteen: somnophilia kink

>>> y'all i worked breeding into the plot again officer take me away!! i just love soft and domestic sho, and it also totally feels like something he'd love!!

>>> starring: shouto todoroki x curvy!fem!reader >>> cw: fingering, oral (fem receiving) somno, breeding, reader hates working lmfao, creampie obviously, mating press. >>> wc: 2.6k >>> event masterlist

 shouto loves relaxing. he was sure this was something everyone enjoyed, until he met you. you seemed to stay occupied at all times, delving into hobby after hobby to keep yourself busy. being professional heroes was draining enough, he thought, so why were you indulging in running clubs and extra gym sessions? why did you spend more time learning new recipes and anxiously cleaning the house these days than lounging in bed with him watching tv like you used to? of course, his first assumption is that he has done something to push you away or upset you, as he’s prone to doing. he’s naturally aloof and a bit distant, all things he tries to push past to connect to you, the only person who makes him feel warmth were his coldness usually lies. you know how he is, how he can come off a bit frigid and almost mean without thinking about it, or how he struggles to read your body language and cues—always missing the hints you throw him. you’re used to it by now, far more accommodating than a grown man like him deserves, so he figures this time he needs to get to the bottom of this and make it up to you and prove he can be in tune with your emotions too. 

you had grown restless, but it wasn’t all your husband’s fault. you felt so out of place these days, feeling awkward in your own role in life. you enjoy being a hero some days, other days you can hardly motivate yourself to get out of bed. work had become monotonous and meaningless, the streets of japan were safer than they had been in years past, so most of your days were spent patrolling and training if they weren’t consumed in paper work. you felt stagnant, and things were only complicated further by your conflicting emotions. all your friends from school were retired to spend time with their families or in the process of retiring to go home and take care of their parents or kids—and then there was you. a family would be…perfect, but it was a touchy subject with shouto and you didn’t want to press the matter just because you needed a change in life. so yes, you started tinkering around with hobbies to try and get your mind off of things, knowing you had accepted the possibility of not having children when you agreed to be his misses todoroki. he hadn’t taken the possibility completely off  the table, but you knew he wanted to broach the subject whenever he was ready. so you started using the home gym a little more, picking up books your girlfriends recommended, even working on your cooking skills all in an effort to feel something other than bored.

you didn’t associate your issues with shouto, still acting as normal as possible in other regards other than your drifting away. you really didn’t think he’d notice given the lack of emotional fluency he had, hoping if you could replace the void growing within you that everything would go back to normal and you could be as happy as you were five or ten years ago. but he had noticed, of course. he missed his wife alongside him, but it wasn’t his fault that he had trauma associated with family and was unsure of himself as a father. it certainly wasn’t his fault that when you got married right out of high school you hadn’t cared—knowing that you love him either way. this is still true, of course, but back then you hadn’t imagined  you’d feel this way, this tired of the life you worked so hard for. so ready for the next chapter, especially as ochako welcomes baby midoriya number two and you’re left in charge of the elder brother at the hospital. 

the little boy was only about four or so, absolutely adorable and the image of his father. he was a giggly kid, clinging to his “auntie” with excitement to meet his baby brother or sister. ochako called as soon as she was sure she was in labor, and you dropped everything to go support your closest friend, not that you needed an excuse to leave work early anyway. shouto was still working, of course, as a top five hero he was often kept busy. but that left you to wrangle the toddler on your own. it was way easier than you expected, even with the energetic little boy bouncing all over the waiting room waiting for his dad to come get him. he still conversed with you and ate his lunch like a good boy—though that’s because his parents were so good at raising him, but what would you expect from them? 

all the day proved to you was that you weren’t just making up solutions to your problems, having a family really is what you want. but still, you love your husband more than this want, so you’ll double down on your hobbies until you find something that sticks. 

he reads your texts over and over, waiting on you to get back from the hospital. he had set up a date, truly romantic when he tries to be, and when bakugou answers his calls. following his advice, he had your favorite dinner made and the dining room table was intimately set. ochako had her second baby, and that threw a minor wrench in his plans even lthough he was overjoyed for them, and for you for being their dependable friend in that moment. he sits at the table, all the food keeping warm in the oven as the wax of the candles starts to wane. he had flowers, wine, all the things he knew to try and connect with you and get to the center of your sleepless nights. 

when you walk in, he stands, smiling sheepishly. you smile back, though it doesn’t reach the entirety of your eyes. then you notice he’s guarding the table, and you creep closer. “hey, honey.” 

“welcome home, sweetheart.” he nods, stepping aside to show you the lovely dinner scene just for you. your heart melts a little at his effort, knowing it was always a great show of his love to do something like this, much preferring cuddle sessions and shared showers over grand displays of affection. 

“aw, shou.” you pout, giving him a big hug, “this is so pretty, to what do i owe the pleasure?” you giggle like everything is normal. he hums in thought, slender arms holding your waist as he stews over what to say. 

“you’ve been distant as of late.” he says without a trace of malice or disappointment. his words catch you by surprise–he did notice. he lets you go, pulling out your chair and tilting his head for you to sit. “why?” 

you clear your throat and sit, any charade you wanted to drum up crumbling in your brain. you can’t lie to him, but how could you approach this without feeling like you’re betraying his trust and wishes. you sigh. “i… i’ve just been trying to find new hobbies.” 

“you’re hardly sleeping, and i feel like i never see you anymore.” he frowns, making his way to the oven to retrieve the dinner the chef made. “what is it really, sweetheart? do you feel as if you cannot talk to me? is it something i’ve done?”  

you chew the inside of your lip as he assembles food on your plate. “i don’t enjoy hero life anymore. i’m ready for the next chapter, to feel important for other reasons.” you reply, not wanting to make him at fault for your whirlwind feelings as of late. 

he takes in what you say, smart enough to connect some dots. the picture you sent him of you holding baby midoriya in your arms and big brother proudly sitting on your lap was the happiest you’ve looked in some time. “the next chapter…as in, motherhood?” 

you look up at him, studying his mismatched eyes for a hint of how he feels. you sigh, “i know, i know. i guess that’s why i’ve been a little withdrawn…i feel bad about it, i know what you want.” you chuckle sadly, sipping at the wine provided. “really, i’m trying to get over it, i guess. maybe we could get a dog?” 

now he was disappointed. not in your desires, but that you put his possible feelings above your actual ones without ever speaking to him about it. just like you, he had changed as well. he wasn’t the same unsure eighteen year old he was when you married him, and though he still held trauma from his childhood, he had long accepted the concept of being a father since you were by his side. he could do anything if he was with you. he cuts into the meal and gives you a sympathetic glance. 

“you should have told me. a family…i think i’m ready for that, if you’re saying you’re ready to stay home in that way.” he hums, knowing you wouldn’t put yourself in harm’s way after becoming a mother. you gape at him, replaying his words over in your head. 

“wh–i don’t want you to do it just for me.” you double down, blindsided by his revelation. had you really put yourself through all of this for nothing? 

“i would do anything for you.” he replies instantly, and he meant that with no restrictions. “but i had considered it again around the time izuku welcomed his first.” 

“meaning you were ready four years ago?!” you almost cry out just from the shock alone, and he chuckles softly. 

“not ready to have one then, but i knew i would want some eventually. now is a good time. we’re stable. you made me nervous.” he sips at his wine, eating his food nonchalantly. 

“i made you nervous? i–” you sputter, still grappling with the fact that shouto was more than willing to try for a baby. 

“i thought i messed up, you were drifting from me. i wish i had known all you wanted was a child.” he hums thoughtfully, a full plan coming together in his head to comfort both of you. “and you haven’t been getting enough sleep for weeks, so i’ll make sure you get both tonight.” 

you took that to mean that he’ll fuck you to sleep, another thing he’s prone to do at times. so you shower and meet him in bed, trying to repress your giddiness. you didn’t notice the devious smirk your husband gave you as you sink into his arms. he pulls the blankets over you both, leaning in to give you the routine kisses before bed, and then he turns over like he’s going to sleep. 

you look at the ceiling in the dark with confusion. did he forget or change his mind? 

“you have to go to sleep before i’ll give you that child, sweetheart.” he speaks into the night, making your heart pound with a mix of frustration and intrigue and warmth at how he cares for you, as worked up as you were for him now, you groan and turn over. your brain is quiet as it’s your heart that races for once, and eventually you’re able to drift to sleep. 

he waits a few hours to make sure you’re good and asleep, his whole plan would be ruined if he woke you up. shouto loves you more than anything, and he hadn’t been exaggerating when he said he was worried. you had to be well rested, especially if you hoped to give him a baby after all. so only when he hears your quiet snores and deep breathing does he scoot closer, gently positioning you on your back. you dressed in a little nightgown in anticipation of him anyhow, so it was easy for him to locate your waiting bundle of nerves. he rubs you carefully, drawing small circles over your hood as you squirm the slightest bit beside him. he slides his fingers down to the familiar hole beneath, nodding at the feeling of slick appearing, your sweet body was responding to him. he crawls between your legs and carefully pushes your nightgown up over your chest, completely bewitched at the sight of your nipples perking up and goosebumps covering your perfect body. 

he thinks it’s almost ridiculous to think he wouldn’t want children with you. you’ve been in his life since his ua days and no one knew him like you did. you were someone so clearly meant to be a mother, it would be a crime not to give you the family you deserve. he easily parts your thighs, massaging and kneading the thickness he finds there as he lowers his face to your slick cunt. he’s always so gentle, but no time more than now as he hopes to remedy all your problems in one fell swoop like a good husband should. he laps at your center, angular nose bumping against the sensitive clit nestled above until he can hear your breathing change. he didn’t think he’d like it this much, but knowing that your body responds to him even subconsciously has his dick growing in his pants. you taste just as good as usual, growing wetter against his face with every passing second. he slides his fingers in, needing to know when you came. you spasm around the digits as his mouth focuses your swollen clit, and he knows you won’t take much longer. he may need his time understanding emotions and the like, but he knew your body like he knew his own. a few more flicks of his tongue over your nub and pumps of his fingers tickling your insides has you unraveling, and even in your sleep you look majestic cumming on his face. 

he shoves himself out of his boxers, admiring the way you still jerk when he presses his his fingers to your sensitivity. he draws your thighs around his slender hips, angling his pretty cock to your folds. he nuzzles the length along your folds to coat himself despite the pre oozing from his pink tip, taking a second to enjoy that sight in and of itself. then he sheaths himself, careful not to hiss too loud. you feel amazing, clenching him so tight even in the r.e.m stages of sleep, it’s almost too much for him to process. this was the first attempt at a baby, a family he never imagined himself having until he married and matured with you. it’s intoxicating, really, the way he rocks his way into your waiting pussy, silky walls guiding him in and out without any resistance. he has to bite down on his lip not to grunt and moan at how you feel, promising himself that he’d stay quiet and fill you to the brim. he pushes your legs to your chest, watching your face for any signs of discomfort. you only pant softly as he draws in and out of you, figuring this deep angle would be the best for his seed. 

all you did was follow his orders, getting the rest he demanded in exchange for his cum, even though he really won in the end. getting you to sleep, getting to see your body recognize and beg for him, getting to shove his cock deep and impress himself on your womb was more than a fair trade. a soft grunt slips past his lips as his hips stutter. his balls feel unimaginably heavy and then they don’t, his heavy load being fucked even deeper by the determined man you married. even when his warmth pools around his own dick as it goes soft inside you, he doesn’t quit, rolling his hips until he’s too sensitive to continue. 

he’s the one that doesn’t get any sleep that night, watching you sleep with his seed tucked in you only inspired him to take breaks and keep pumping you full, resigning himself to rest hours later  when he can’t possibly cum anymore.

[itsmarsss]

Scandalous (Blitzø x Fem!Succubus!Reader x Stolas) [Helluva Boss] pt. 8 - Catharsis

How the mighty do fall. (Getting into a weird three-way situation with an imp and a succubus isn't exactly considered classy, Stolas)

Do you ever think about anyone’s feelings other than your own? 

pt. 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3 | pt. 4 | pt. 5 | 1st bonus | pt. 6 | pt. 7 | pt. 8 | pt. 9 | 2nd bonus

Word count: 4,900

Warnings: self-deprecating thoughts, thoughts of death, heavy drinking, use of alcohol and sexual behavior as coping mechanisms. you know it's what you can expect from a blitzo-centered chapter. this happens right after the ozzie's chapter.

Blitzø is going to die alone. 

He’s going to die alone and no one will attend his funeral or even visit his grave other than to spit on it and his gravestone will read ‘Here Lies Blitzo Buckzo’ and nothing more because no one will be there to tell them to cross out the O and he most certainly won’t be a beloved anything. He'll just stay Blitzo Buckzo, forever.

And Blitzo Buckzo fucking sucks. 

Sometimes he wishes he was able to think before he spoke. He never does much of that and he’s aware he’d probably have refrained from hurting half the people he’s hurt if he could just keep his damn mouth shut. He didn’t think about this all that much… except for when he did. 

Do you ever think about anyone’s feelings other than your own? 

Her voice rings in his head non-stop, like one of those annoying fucking church bells he’d come across once in the living world that ring every single hour, making it unable for its existence to be forgotten.

Do you ever think about anyone’s feelings other than your own? 

It rings over and over again, stubborn, and it just won’t fucking go away.

Do you ever think about anyone’s feelings other than your own? 

Blitzø drives home on his own, but not in silence. He turns the radio on and the volume up until he figures it must be loud enough that he’ll have trouble hearing his own thoughts. It doesn’t work. The shit thing about thoughts is that they’re not something you can just turn off when you get sick of them. They follow you everywhere, all the time, inconvenient and impossible to get rid of. He proceeds to ignore the songs that come on in favor of mumbling incoherent things under his breath in a desperate attempt to reassure himself that he’s not bothered by everything that just happened.  Things like I can think about people’s fuckin’ feelings and think you’re so much better than me, well fuck you and rich fuckin’ asshole thinks he’s hot shit and probably suckin’ face right now. 

You know, things that prove he doesn’t care one bit. 

Whatever.

He parks the van without a care, still too busy mumbling to himself, leaving it askew, taking up almost half of the parking spot next to his own. The old lady from 22 is gonna be pissed at the inconvenience. Well fuck her too. He doesn’t spare another thought on that. 

He dreads the walk up the stairs to the apartment, wishing he lived somewhere with an elevator, or in a house, or in a super sick fancy mansion where he used money as toilet paper when he took a shit because he was just that rich. Actually, scratch that, that sounds uncomfortable. At least his shitty apartment with limited hot water and four flights of stairs before it had real toilet paper, and it was the nice kind even, he always made sure of it even if it was a little more expensive. 

His little luxuries start to sound stupid when he’s been spending so much time around Stolas and all his fancy stuff.

When he opens the door and enters the apartment, his first immediate thought is to knock on Loona’s door. He groans once as he walks towards it and then once again when he spots the note she left taped to it. ‘Tex invited me to a party. Don’t wait up.’ Yeah of course he fucking did.

Do you ever think about anyone’s feelings other than your own? 

Does he? 

He does. He thinks he does, at least. Maybe not all the time, but why else would he have said those things to her other than to protect her feelings? It’s not his fault if she was setting herself up for heartbreak. She needed to kill those feelings and if she wouldn’t then he would, fuck being the bad guy. In fact, fuck her too! He could so think about other people’s feelings.

He groans a third time at the thought of spending the night all alone, because he already knows what being alone makes out of him, and he doesn't like it one bit. If he could, he’d never be alone, not even for a single second, ever. Maybe that way he wouldn’t be so pathetic and so sad, because that’s what being alone made of him: pathetic and sad. 

It’s why Blitzø used to hate weekends. 

Satan, he fucking hated them. Why couldn’t every day be a work day? Why would they need a break? If it were up to him, there would be no such thing as a weekend. Because on weekends he had nothing to distract him from the ever-growing nothing in the pit of his chest and that wasn’t much fun at all.

Until Y/N accepted the job at I.M.P.

Before that, they used to speak almost exclusively through text, extremely inconsistently. He’s never really been the greatest at texting, but he could spam her with stupid memes and pictures of him doing random things throughout his day and horse doodles that she didn’t seem mad about receiving. They spent a whole year like that, only meeting in person a few times here and there.

When he offered her the job he promised himself not to have any expectations because, well shit, why would she trade in an obviously well-paying job, with her best friend as her boss, where she’d been working for years on end without having to hurt or kill anybody, for whatever it was he was asking her to do? 

But then she said yes.

It wasn’t long until he figured out they weren’t all that different from each other. Apparently, as much as she liked to complain about needing a break, just to annoy him, she dreaded weekends too. Not that she’d just admit that point-blank, but they did go out on on a Friday night after work and she did drink one too many and she sighed and complained about having to go home and it was all so much like him. ‘I don’t wanna be alone, Blitz,’ she’d told him. 

He didn't wanna be alone either.

And so he took her back home and he slept on her couch and he stayed there the next day, keeping her company and, honestly, enjoying hers. 

That’s how their tradition started. Almost every single weekend, the two will find themselves in either of their apartments, in the ugliest clothes they own, to cook or order something extremely greasy and unhealthy and marathon a shit-ton of movies, staying in on Saturday after going out somewhere on Friday. Loona would routinely call it ‘patheticville’ and ‘loser day’ and things like that. 

He doesn't hate weekends anymore. 

Do you ever think about anyone’s feelings other than your own? 

And now he’d fucking gone and done this. 

He still wanted to fight, then. To argue, to scream, to yell. He wanted them to do it too. To get down and dirty and scream back at him. He wanted a reason to react.

Blitzø has always been very good at reacting. 

Do you ever think about anyone’s feelings other than you own?

But how was he supposed to react to that? The thought of grabbing his phone and texting her something along the lines of ‘fuck you and your pet bird too’ crosses his mind for a moment and, shit, maybe he is a prick, and he was gonna die alone wasn’t he? He was sure to if he kept doing this kind of thing. 

And maybe he fucking deserves it. 

Sometimes he wonders just how he’s going to die. Will it be peaceful? He hopes not. He sure as shit does not deserve peaceful. Maybe it could at least be cool. Maybe he could go down in a super badass shootout in the human world or a cool-as-fuck sword fight or something. Or maybe he’ll die in some dumbass way like tripping on the sidewalk and cracking his head open on the pavement. Maybe it’ll be in one of those days when he’ll be climbing up Stolas’ balcony and then he’ll slip and fall and break all his bones only to be found dead on the grass surrounded by ball gags and anal plugs. A stupid send-off for a stupid motherfucker. 

He throws himself on the couch instead and curls up into a ball, wishing he had a big royal-size bed with soft sheets and like three or four fluffy pillows, or even a simple twin-sized one, or at least that the couch was a pull-out. 

He grabs his phone and inevitably goes where he always goes when he feels like this- his ‘people I care about’ folder. He swipes through the various pictures. The ones of himself with I.M.P. in the living world, the one he made Moxxie pose with him for with them pointing their guns at each other, the one with Millie when she still had her long hair. The one from the day of Loona’s adoption, the one he took of Stolas sleeping next to him. The selfie with Verosika, the one he secretly took of Y/N watching the screen when he first showed ‘Spirit’ to her. 

And then he lands on the one. The one with Barbie and his mom. 

Blitzø is a 35 years old single father who kills people for a living. He’s been handling his own shit for almost two decades now. But in this moment… he just wants his mama.

Do you ever think about anyone’s feelings other than your own? 

What would she have thought of that?

Yeah, he should have known it would be a ‘cry himself to sleep’ kind of night.

Blitzø doesn’t know for how long he’s been passed out when he wakes up disoriented. He doesn’t remember falling asleep, and that probably explains why his body ached so much with how uncomfortable the position he’d slept in was. He wakes up with the barking sounds of Loona’s special ringtone and scrambles to pick it up. 

“Loonie baby? You alright? Did something happen to you, are you hurt?”

“No, Blitz. I just- can you just come pick me up?” She sounds like she’s been crying. Fuck, no, his baby needs him. No time to be sad.

He’s up in a second. “On my way. Send me the address.” He hangs up, searching for his car keys (which he found between the couch seats) and running down the stairs.

Loona went two rings down to Gluttony for this party. It makes sense, he supposes. He’s more of a Lust Ring party kind of guy himself, but he’s heard Gluttony parties got crazy. He accelerates as fast as the shitty van will let him and gets there pretty quickly, only to find her outside, still crying.

He rolls down the window before he even stops the car completely. “Hey, Loonie. How ya doin’, you alright?”

She wipes a tear with the back of her hand and enters the car with a huff, crossing her arms over her chest. “Yeah, I’m fine! I just wanna go.” She sounds anything but fine.

He’s about to ask her what happened when some fuckface he definitely doesn’t remember calls him by name. The wrong one. “Hey! That sounds like Blitzo!”

“The ‘O’ is silent, asshole!”

“Hey, I knew it was you! Fuck, man, where you been? You here for the party?”

“No, I’m just here picking up my daughter.”

The guy walks up to Loona’s window, and she hides her face from him with her hands, embarrassed. “Oh, shit, you have a daughter now?”

“Adopted!” She yells out, and it stings a bit, regardless of being objectively true. 

“Oh, man, you’re already leaving? Things just got started! Come in and show us all up again.”

Blitzø groans, annoyed by the insistence. “No, no, thank you, but I think Loonie wants to head back now.” 

Some other weirdo approaches the van, leaning on the passenger’s window. “Huh, the hottie wants to leave?” Come on, right in front of him? 

He instinctively starts to growl. “Watch it.”

“I mean, we could stay a little longer,” Loona tells him.

He sighs. He’s not normally one to turn down a party, especially one with free booze, but he feels that’s probably what he should do.. “I think we need to go, ‘kay? I think it’s been a long night.”

“Well, these people seem to know you. Come on! I think I wanna give this another try. Pleeeeaaase?” She gives him the goddamn puppy dog eyes and she knows he can already hardly resist fulfilling her requests.

Well, if she insists. He could definitely use a drink…

“Okay, fine. Maybe one drink.”

… Or a good old night of drinking to forget.

Blitzø downs two tequila shots before he’s even made it into the house. He downs four beers at rapid speed as soon as he does manage to get inside, crushing the cans and cheering loudly when he was done, and then suddenly he finds himself saying yes to a keg stand. It’s so easy he can do it in his sleep. Fuck being too old for this, he’d never be too old to have fun. And he can handle so much more than a keg stand. “Ha-ha! That was nothing, bitch! Give me a real challenge!”

Beelzebub herself appears in front of him, seemingly materializing out of nowhere (or maybe he’s just drunk), all cheers and neon colors and psychedelic paraphernalia floating around her, and she does challenge him. “Oh yeah? Wanna fucks with the big bitch, imp boy? I got a challenge for ya.” 

Someone somewhere murmurs “He’s gonna die.”

Now that sounds like a challenge he can get behind.

Vortex walks up to them, carrying two huge gallons of something and placing them on the floor between him and the Sin. “Aaaaight, let’s do this! From Bee’s personal supply, the hardest shit there is.” He crouches down to Blitzø’s height. “You ready, my man?” 

Fuck, this better fucking kill him alright. “Bring it, barky! I will drink you under this fucking table, you have no idea what kind of night I’ve had.” He struggles trying to pry the gallon open, and Bee uses her magic or whatever to make them levitate, extending a straw from it. Of course she’d flaunt her magical powers and her easy fucking life to him.

“Alright, shit-talker, but there hasn’t been a soul yet who can beat me at my own game, so you better bring the fire, baby!.” 

“Ohh, is Queen Bee too scawed to lose to a widdle imp like me?” He bets she is. And he bets she’ll be embarrassed when she loses to him (because she is going to lose). Fucking big names like her always are. 

“Oh, okay. Let’s get it on, you little bastard!”

Vortex signs for them to begin and it takes about two seconds for Blitzø to have downed about a fourth of it already, but why stop there? He pulls the straw out and pours the drink straight into his mouth, downing the entirety of it at light speed. He’s so quick Beelzebub even stops chugging her own, amused… Concerned? Noo, no way. Amused. 

He climbs on top of the huge gallon to be at face level with her and properly rub it on her face, high on the adrenaline of it all (and perhaps a little bit on the buzz from the extremely strong drink too). “Yeah, who’s the queen now?”

Loona cheers for him loudly, and it fills him with joy when she proudly yells out “yeah! That’s my dad!” Yeah. That’s damn right. 

Bee lets her own unfinished gallon fall down to the floor and crosses her arms over her chest. Yeah, definitely impressed. “Well, fuck me. That’s a first. I haven’t had a first in a while. That was magical, seriously. Impressive. I tip my crown to you, imp boy. Respect.” Fuck her still calling him imp boy, but she’s actually admitting his victory and shes bowing to him, as she fucking should. 

She howls, every hellhound around following suit, and Blitzø feels on top of the world. 

Why does the world start spinning when you get yourself on top of it? 

He almost falls to the ground, but then he’s getting held up by a bunch of strangers like a cool-as-fuck goddamn rockstar and, shit, why had he stopped getting wasted and doing this kind of thing every night again?

He doesn’t exactly remember when people started doing body shots off of him but he does remember getting freaky with a few of them, which did very little to make him feel good and honestly felt a little gross with the amounts of drinks getting spilled all over and making things rather… sticky, but it was doing wonders to his thought problem. 

Who would have known having four strangers’ tongues inside of you at once could be a great way to muffle the unsolicited thoughts in his head?

The second those people fuck off somewhere else the thoughts come in again, though. Stolas hiding his face in shame behind the menu. Do you ever think about anyone’s feelings other than your own? Y/n unable to look him in the eye. Are you worried someday I may have enough of it as well? Fizz is gonna hate him forever. You’re not my real dad! Verosika will always regret him. We could just… talk. Or… watch a movie? Or maybe… cuddle? Y/n’s crying face, Stolas’ disappointed one. Oh, they both had such fuckable faces didn’t they? Which reminded him: he really wanted to fuck someone.

He’s making out with a guy whose name he doesn’t know and whose face he doesn’t even remember when Loona pulls him off of him. “Oh, piss on a dick! What the fuck are you doing, Blitz?”

“This guy,” he grins, pointing to the unnamed man, who now stands still behind him. Wasn’t it obvious?

“It looks like you’re in the middle of a goddamn orgy. Stop!” Oh shit. Loona saw all that? An orgy does sound like some real fucking fun right now. Wait, focus, Loona. Fuck.

“Look, I didn’t expect you to come here and see any of this, Loonie, I’m so sorry, but it’s a party! I’m just having fun with uh… uh…” he turns back around to the man Loona pulled him off of. “The fuck is your name again?”

“Dennis.”

Ew. “Christ on a stick, you would be a Dennis. Get the fuck away from me! I’m not fucking a Dennis tonight. I need a Monica or an Alejandro here, stat.” He’s genuinely surprised that works when some hunky dude pulls him into his huuuge chest. Fuck yeah. “Better.”

Loona punches his Alejandro in the face, and he sincerely doesn’t give a fuck about it, because the world is spinning again, which is weird because this time he does not feel like he’s on top of it at all. In fact, it feels like the world is the meanest dom top ever and he’s a whiny, whiny bottom just sore all over from getting spanked ‘till his ass hurt. Not in a good way.

He falls back on Loona, and she catches him. “You don’t need anyone else sucking your face, freaky weirdo.” She throws him over her shoulder. “You need to drink something other than beelzejuice.”

She pulls him into the van, and she doesn’t rush to get home, because, according to her, she can see he’s already about to throw up. No he’s not, no sir! Ma’am. Loonie. 

Whatever. 

His mind clears a little as they make their way back home, and he pulls out his phone from his back pocket. Thankfully it’s still there.

“The fuck are you doing, dumbass? That’s gonna make you dizzy.”

“Gotta… gotta draw a thing.”

“You gotta draw a thing?”

“Yeah,” he affirms, as if that was enough information for everything to be self-explanatory, even nodding his head yes for emphasis. He surprisingly manages to take his time and put real effort into doodling it, showing it to Loona before sending it.

“Does it look like I did it drunk?” He slurs, letting out an unintentional burp.

“It actually looks pretty good, Blitz.”

“Okay.” 

“So. Who’d you call stupid?”

“Don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Okay.”

“Can you call me dad again?”

“Nope.”

“Okay.”

He presses send and clicks on Stolas’ contact next, only to see there’s an unread message in their chat.

Stols:  I’m sorry if anything I said or did offended you tonight. 

Ha. Bet you really fucking are. 

Still, he’s not Stolas’ fucking boyfriend. What was there to expect from him? Why would he expect anything? 

Blitzy: ITZ WUTEVS

To Blitzø’s surprise, Stolas begins typing immediately, as if he’d been waiting obsessively for his reply.

Stols: Next time you come over, maybe we can talk about what happened at Ozzie’s?

Talk about it? What was there to talk about? Blitzø wanted nothing more than to bury the memories of tonight the deepest under the ground he possibly could. But of course Stolas would want to talk about it.

He always wants to fucking talk about shit.

Blitzy: Y?

Stolas types for what feels like forever, and it must have been, seen that they’re now only one street from the apartment complex, before he sends in a huge-ass paragraph. 

Stols: I’m sorry! Nevermind, it’s not a big deal. I was just worried about you. You seemed very upset and you took off so fast. I’m sure things will be fine with Y/N, she likes you very much, I can see it. Maybe I read too much into everything, though. Not everything is about me, haha. I’m  glad that’s not the case. I wasn’t upset either I just wanted to make sure you weren’t and obviously you can handle a stupid joke a clown can make. Asmodeus can be very invasive in his humor, and Y/N says she’ll talk to him about it, but I thought it was funny myself. What he said about me at least. I enjoy being the subject of jest. Maybe you can say mean things to me too next time you come over. 

Now that is too much to fucking deal with right now. Which means he won’t. 

Blitzy: SHUR.

He clicks out of Stolas’ chat, taking one last glance at Y/N’s before turning his phone off. She hasn’t seen what he sent yet, and that’s actually okay. 

Loona parks the van messily, doing the same thing he’d done earlier and letting the car occupy some space from the neighbour’s spot. He doesn’t even think before asking her to fix it.  “Sweetie, could you just park it a little more to the right?”

“Why?”

Yeah, Blitzø, why do you even care? “Well I don’t want that freaky cat lady to be up my ass about it tomorrow.” Yeah, that. Sure.

She doesn’t seem to find it in her to argue or even as much as groan, simply readjusting the car. She has to carry him over her shoulder again and all he wishes on the way up this time around is that he were a little more sober. She plops him down on the couch and he curls into himself once again while she grabs him a glass of water. 

Nothing to distract him from his thoughts now. 

“I had a really shitty day,” he tells her.

“Oh, yeah? Is that why you drank like five gallons of who-knows-what?”

“I don’t want her to hate me.”

“The person you called stupid?” 

He nods, hiding his face from her when the tears start coming in. “Fuck, Fizz was right. I’m gonna die alone, aren’t I? Just a wrinkly, old, withered waste. Will you be there, Loonie?” Blitzø feels whatever consciousness he’d gained back slipping away again by the second, this time from the need to sleep rather than the alcohol. At what point did he get so tired?

“Be where?” Loona asks, and he’s too out of it to respond properly, only mumbling half-coherent things like lonely and die alone over and over. “I’ll be there, dad," she tells him anyway, and covers him with a blanket, the softest one they own. “Now go the fuck to sleep,” she orders, and he does hear it, he just doesn’t have the strength to say anything in response as he feels himself drifting off to sleep, his last thoughts being that at least he can’t think about anything while asleep and that… 

He vomits all over the living room floor. 

“Oh, fuck, I did need to throw up.”

[. . .]

You feel stupid when it’s Fizzarolli who finds you crying in Ozzie’s waiting area. He skips his way to the room, humming along to some song you can’t quite make out, and he almost doesn’t see you on his way into the office. He hears you sniffling, though, and turns to face you. It takes him a couple seconds to process that it’s you.

“Y/N? What are you doing here? Um. You okay there?”

You look up at him, but it doesn’t feel like you can say anything yet. 

“I-” He motions behind him with his thumb. “I’m gonna- I’m gonna get Ozzie. Stay here, yeah?”

You don’t even know why exactly you’d asked Stolas to send you here when you were still mad at Ozzie. Or maybe not mad. Just… sad about everything that spiraled out of what he did. 

Then again, did you even have anywhere else to go? You could absolutely not make the night worse for Millie and Moxxie by showing up at their place, thinking of Blitzø made you sad and Stolas was not an option. You had Ozzie, though. And you know you always will, despite whatever stupid shit one of you might do. 

And it honestly beats going home to a big pile of nothing. 

Ozzie appears shortly, Fizz having done as promised and fetched him. Fizz doesn’t come back, though, letting you and Ozzie have a moment to talk on your own, which is nice of him.  

“Hey, pretty babe. Fizz said you were here.” He looks you up and down, worried. “Are you crying?”

“Why did you do that?” 

“What?”

“Why did you fucking sing about all that, why did you- it was so humiliating, Oz, fuck!”

“Oh. I am so sorry. I didn’t know. I didn’t know. It got out of control. I didn’t even know you would be here tonight. You didn’t call me.”

“I didn’t know I was coming either.”

“You wanna tell me what that means?”

“It’s stupid.”

“Alright. That’s okay. I am sorry, though. We took the joke too far and I realized too late that it wasn’t funny.”

“Yeah. It wasn’t. So please don’t fucking do that again. It’s humiliating enough to… fuck... and everybody saw it, and- I…” You groan in frustration, struggling to get your words out. 

“No more about Stolas or any of you. Okay? Promise.” He sits down next to you on the fancy couch and he lets you lean on him. “Did something happen between you?”

You hesitate before speaking. “I didn’t- I don’t know what I was thinking. Maybe I am stupid. Of course he’s ashamed to be seen with us.”

“Stolas?”

You nod. 

“Did he… tell you that?”

“Well he didn’t deny it.”

“Okay." He takes a deep breath, probably trying to think of how to handle the situation. "You’ll have time to think about all of this. Alright? Now you’re coming with me, you’re taking a bath and you’re sleeping over, and we’ll talk about everything tomorrow. There’s no need to hurt yourself more thinking about it right now.”

He stands up and turns to leave the room, but looks back when he doesn’t hear you do the same. You’re still sat sit still on the couch.

You look up at him. “Oz?”

“Hm?”

“Do you think I’m stupid?”

“What?”

“Do you think I’m stupid?” You repeat yourself.

“What- of course not. Did somebody say that to you?”

You don’t reply. 

He purses his lips together, thinking. “Are they worth feeling stupid for?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve gone through this before.”

“It’s different, you know that.”

“Yeah, it’s worse. They’re not hurting you back this time around, they’re just hurting you.”

You decide he was right. You don't want to talk about this right now. “Can we please not talk about it?”

He hesitates before nodding in agreement. “Yeah. ‘Course, babe.” He grabs your hands and pulls you up. “Come on.”

All the crying makes you so tired you’re almost passed out the second you lie down on the soft, silky bedsheets of Ozzie's guest room bed. Taking a look through your texts before you let yourself fall asleep, you click on Stolas’ contact once you see a notification for an unread text. 

Stolas: I am truly sorry if I did something to hurt you or make you uncomfortable with me tonight. It’s not your obligation to talk Asmodeus  out of doing anything and I did not feel embarrassed because of you or Blitz. If you need space from me I will understand, but I want you to know that is not how I feel. And, for the record, I don’t care what that Verosika person said about you. I hope you’re alright. 

It is way too late and you are way too tired to process or deal with all of that, and honestly? You still do feel stupid, and don’t want to further that feeling by replying to him immediately. That feels too pathetic- it feels like proving Blitzø right.

You’ll reply tomorrow.

You click on Blitzø’s contact next, which also had a notification signaling an unseen message, and you brace yourself for a 'fuck you’ text or something of the sorts. 

You can't keep yourself from smiling when you open the text, turning the phone off and just waiting for sleep come to you, and things feel a lot less shitty than just a second before.

Having friends is pretty fucking okay.

A/N: everybody say thank you @sweetadonisbutbetter and also wish them a happy birthday!! the adorable little doodle blitzo drew is theirs and they did it especially so i could put it in this chapter which is so nice of them and so fucking cool!!

[lostbookmark]

MDNI 18+

WHISPERED SECRETS Masterlist

Summary: After four years your sister's ex-boyfriend comes back into your life. Can you keep your entanglement a secret? Will the guilt eat you alive? 

Pairing:  Sisters ex Yoongi x Insecure F. Reader. 

Genre: SMUT, angst, hurt - comfort, romance. 

Warning: Explicit sex, fingering, Possessive Yoongi, swearing, reader is insecure, jealousy, punishment, unprotected sex, drinking, dirty talk, praising, degradation, spanking, spanking as punishment, teasing, hair pulling, arguments. Overuse of the name, baby.

A/N: Updating a day early. I almost have the story completed.

One more week before another smutty chapter. This is just pure plot again. 

Is ginger haired Yoongi his own warning?

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦ ✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

He lied. He promised that he would call you every day and he lied. You spent the two days leading up to him leaving, together.  You found out just how good of a cook he was and how bad you were compared to him. He tried explaining the art of producing and writing a song. You'll admit that one went over your head, but he seemed excited to talk to you about it. You jokingly asked him to write a song for you. He smirked, and with a kiss, he said he would. The first day he was gone, he did call like he said he would. The second day was a couple of texts. Third day, he left you on read, then the fourth…delivered. It's been two weeks now. Not one week but two. Fourteen days, a fortnight. 

“Jimin says that when they work, sometimes they stay up for days at a time. He probably crashed at the hotel to catch up on sleep,” Lisa tried to reason. 

“You really think he would ignore you?” Jisoo asks you as she pays for her coffee. You don't know how to answer that.  You wanted to be able to say, of course, he wouldn't, but you can't. You honestly can't. 

“You know he wouldn….” Lisa trails off as you three leave the coffee shop. You follow her line of sight to see who she is staring at. You squint your eyes a little harder. “Is that him?” She asks, pointing her finger at a couple on the sidewalk.

“Is his hair…red?” Jisoo questioned. “Orange?” 

The three of you move a bit closer but stay hidden behind some cars to get a closer look.  It was, she was right. Yoongi was here and he was right across the street. He was home and he didn't tell you. You watch him across the street talking to someone. A woman, a pretty blonde woman with long hair. She was taller than you, about his height. He wouldn't need to bend as much to her like he does with you. You can't hear them but whatever she said has him laughing. His gummy smile is on display, full and bright. She reaches up and gently rubs his arm over his green jacket and he doesn't push her away, he is familiar with her. He looks at her fondly as he nods his head at whatever she's saying. Is that how he looked at you? You watch as he opens a door to the building they stood in front of and they walk inside together. You can feel your heart shatter as if someone stabbed it with a sharp knife. You can actually feel it crack into a million pieces and fall to your stomach. Sharp pieces like glass shards, obliterating your insides. Your eyes don't leave the door they went through.  You can't see through the intricate stained glass windows no matter how much you tried.

“I'm sure it's not what it seems,” Jisoo tells you. 

“Bull fucking shit,” Lisa exclaims. “I'm going to beat his ass.”

“Lisa,” Jisoo hisses.

“What?” Lisa exclaims. “He left her hanging for over a week, and he's literally right there. She should have been his first stop.” 

“No,” you hiccup. Dammit you're crying. You wipe your eyes on your sweater. The fabric is itchy and makes the wet skin of your cheeks feel irritated. Your eyes still don't stray from the door. You hope and pray with everything you have that he walks back out. Please walk back out, you beg. You hold your breath…please?  He doesn't.  “I'm just going to go.” 

“Let us come with you,” Jisoo suggests. You just shake your head. She sighs and opens her arms for you.“I'll keep her in line,” she whispered as she pulled you into a hug.

       

You ran to your car, slamming the door as you got in. You had let the tears flow freely then. You try to hide your face from the people that pass by as you rest your head on the steering wheel. How dare he. After everything he put you through with Kai. Kai didn't even touch you. You were barely a participant in the conversion. You shouldn't have gone home with him that night. You should have kept it as a one-time thing. Let it be a lapse in judgment, a meaningless fling. You could have blamed the drinking. No one would have to know you were stone cold sober. Yoongi made your expectations high. He made you feel warm and see colors for the first time in a long time outside of your friends.  He broke you. 

When you got home, you threw on an oversized shirt and got into bed. Cocooning yourself in your plush blankets, you try to seek comfort and warmth. It wasn't helping.  It was only 5 pm, and you had nothing to do and no one to distract you. Time on your hands leads to overthinking. Overthinking can lead you to bad decisions.  You don't want to think right now.You looked at the messages you had sent him. Delivered. He never opened them. You sent them days ago, but he still hasn't opened them. You were so stupid. He fooled you. Were you a pawn in a game for him to get back at your sister?  Your phone chimed, and your heart stopped. Please, please , you whisper into the still, quiet room. It's not him. It's Lisa. 

“Did you make it home? I didn't do anything, I swear. I won't tell Jimin . Promise.”

“I made it, thank you.” 

Your chest hurts. A heavy weight just sitting there where your heart used to be. It's suffocating, holding you down. It's wanting to drown you, and you can't make it back to the surface. You place your hands where the weight is. Thump, thump thump, it's still beating….your heart. It's still there, and it's pumping. Taking a deep breath, you close your eyes. You concentrate on the rhythmic beating. Maybe your sister was right. Maybe Yoongi was a loser. He promised you…promised! He said he would take care of everything, and now he just broke it all apart. He ripped it all up into tiny red shreds and dropped them off the highest cliff he could find. He was probably laughing as he did it. Your tears start leaking out of your eyes again. Focus, focus on the rhythm. You close your eyes. Thump, thump, thump.  Your phone chimes again. 

Jimin said that the guys got in last night. I swear I brought it up casually. I didn't mention what we saw. Lisa tells you, and you choke on sob. This makes you feel worse. That means he had all day that he could have talked to you.  

Thanks. Let Jisoo know I'm turning my phone off for a while.

I will. I love you, sweets.

Me, too, you reply and power down your phone. 

He didn't want to see you. He has made that clear. All you needed was one call, one message. You just needed him to tell you that he had arrived. If he needed time alone, that was fine. He should have just told you. He's such a hypocrite. Telling you how you needed to talk to him and he's straight up ignores you too.  The thing is, you never lied. Yes, you may run and shut down, but you never lied. Screw this, you think, and you turn your phone back on after a few minutes. You immediately open your messages. 

“I know your home. I hope you're having fun with her.” 

You let out a loud breath. You delete the message and get out of bed. Padding to the living room, you try to lie down there.  The weight is still in your chest. It's so quiet, and the thoughts are so loud in your head. You want him here eating your favorite chicken, and you'll make sure there's extra rolls. You'll even let him pick a movie to watch even if you don't like it.  You stare up at your clock. The second hand seems to be moving extra slow today. It hardly makes any noise, though. A small, quiet ticking noise reminiscent of his metronome.  You don't want to hear it. Your memories make the agony hurt more. 

“Did you stay the night with her?” You stare at it for a minute. “Did she go on your trip with you?”  Delete. “Are you sleeping with her? That's fine, I'm with Kai right now.”  You press delete. “I miss you.” Delete. 

You should eat. Your stomach growls, angry with hunger. Your kitchen seems so far away, and you know there’s not much in there. You don't want to eat anyway. Getting up from the couch, you make your way back to your bedroom. Turning on your TV, you leave it on the first thing that comes on. You don't know what it is, but it makes the deafening silence better. You close your eyes, and you're still drowning. Waves of sadness and hurt lapping against your soul.  Your body starts to relax. You give in and let the waves take you away. 

Your eyes pop open. Immediately, they land on your alarm clock. The red glare is blurry, and you can't quite make out the numbers. Blinking away your sleep, you see it reads 8:30 pm. You had been out for about three hours. Your head swivels to your hallway when you hear a sound. There's a knocking at your door. Who the hell would come to your place this late? Picking your phone up, you see 6 missed texts and 4 calls from Yoongi. You refuse to open them. Absolutely not. You will not give him the satisfaction. Your phone chimes. You look down at your lock screen. Are you....was the only thing you could read from the push notification. Am I what? You ask yourself. Angry? Yes. Sad? Yes. Scared? Yes. The knocking seems to have stopped. You know it was him, but yet you didn't win anything for making him reach out to you first. Your phone chimes. I'm sorry. You laugh to yourself….sure. 

The next morning was quiet, and you were tired.  Lisa didn't come to work today. She had texted that Jimin had surprised her with a day trip. A couples spa thing. You were happy that she finally found someone who liked the same things she did and actually took care of her.  She called in with the flu, and after that, you decided to turn your phone off. You look at Seungkwan, and he looks happy that he gets to work in peace for once. Everynow and then you can hear him sing to himself. It makes you smile. He has a nice voice.  You actually managed to get a lot of work done, and Seungkwan seemed more than happy to help you when you needed it. You were wrong about him. He always seemed intimidating, but he's sweet. Admittedly,  you knew that Lisa being gone helped. She didn't distract you with office gossip or the retelling of her dates. You didn't have to talk about Yoongi. You feel bad, but you almost want to say you like it this way.  

5 o'clock on the dot you clock out. You wrap your sweater around you tight and throw your bag over your shoulder. It's colder and the daylight shorter. You can almost smell winter coming in the air. The crisp, clean smell of cold air and snow isn't too far now.  It will probably come early. You should probably grab a warmer jacket tomorrow. Stepping out of the building you stop dead in your tracks. Yoongi is standing there, waiting for you. The new orange…ginger hair on display. He's wearing the same green jacket from yesterday, you bet it smells like her.  He smiles when you see him. A true honest,  smile lights up his face. You…you  just stare. A blank stare that held no emotion. His smile drops a little before he quickly recovers and approaches you. 

“I went over to your place last night,” he said. So, it was him. “Were you asleep? You didn't answer my messages. I was getting worried.”  You visibly scoffed at that and your eyes flicker back to his hair.  “Yeah,” he said, reaching up and running his hand through it.  “Joon, he talked me into it. Do you like it?” 

“You ignored my messages,” you said quietly, not answering  his question. He sighs and tries to take your hand, but you pull away and shake your head. You don't want him to touch you, not after her.  Did she make him happy? Did he come over to your place right after leaving hers? “Two weeks?” You question.

“Baby, can we talk about this privately. Let's go to my place,” he suggests, but you shake your head no.   You'll give in there, you know it. “Can we at least sit in my car? Baby, you’re shivering.” You nod in agreement after a moment of hesitation and walk to his car. You rub your hands together as the wind bites at them. Yoongi tries to reach for you to warm them up for you. You don't let him. Instead, you jam them into your thin sweater, although it didn't do any good.  Getting in the car, he turns the heat up and points all the vents to you. “I know I said a week when I left, but the group we had a meeting with. They needed an album quickly. There were lawsuits involved and everything. I didn't even have time to eat or sleep. Namjoon took my phone away at one point. I couldn't make him mad.”

You don't know what to say to that. You feel him stare at you and he's fidgeting in his seat. His hands keep checking the air blowing out of the vents. Making sure it's warm enough for you. He's probably just nervous and needs something to do. 

“Did Namjoon sign them?” you asked. 

“Yeah, he did,” Yoongi confirms and you nod your head silently. “There's a lot of lawyers and paperwork involved but yeah, he did.” 

You look out the windshield. The trees that lined the street have long lost their green leaves. The leaves now have fallen to the ground as they turn into their beautiful fall hues of yellow and orange, crunching when people walk on them through town holding their warm coffees and other pumpkin spiced drinks. You watch as they swirl off the ground as the breeze picks them up, and they dance along the road as they pass by. You sigh. The sun is already starting to set. 

“Baby?” he asks, trying to get you to look at him. “Y/N?”

“I saw you.” you tell him. You surprise yourself with the lack of emotion in your voice.

“Where? What are you talking about?” he inquires. 

“Yesterday,” you answer, as a singular leaf twirls across the window. “We were getting coffee. We saw you with some woman. She was pretty. You looked happy.  Lisa told me you guys landed the day before that.” 

“That was…” he started but you didn't let him finish. 

“No, you waited…what 24 hours after being home to get a hold of me?” you asked. “Seeing those messages not even opened. Then seeing you with her,” you shook your head. You are tired, so very tired. “I get it.” 

“Will you let me explain?” he begs. You want to, you really do, but you're still too hurt. The wound is still raw and gaping.  You're still trying to make it to the surface.  Did he cheat on your sister, too? 

“My bus will be here soon. I need to go,” you tell him and you put your hand on the door handle. He throws himself over you to stop you from opening the door. “Yoongi!” 

“Let me take you home. I won't say anything. I won't try to come in. Baby, please just let me take you home?” you see something in his eyes that you can't decipher.  Is he scared? Is he scared like you were? Good. You nod your head silently. 

You lay awake in your bed. You couldn't sleep and you have been trying for hours. Tossing and turning, you kept getting tangled up in your blankets. Yoongi stuck to his word and just dropped you off. He didn't say anything on the drive home. He just kept stealing glances at you and you…you kept your eyes as straight as possible. It looked like he wanted to say something to you but you bolted from the car before he could put it fully into park. You regret it now. You wish you would have let him explain who she was. It's messing with your mind. All the scenarios you can think of that could have happened are driving you crazy. You look at the clock. 11:30pm. You're going to take a chance. You need to have a clear mind. You pick up your phone and call Yoongi. Thankfully, he picks up.

“Baby, is something wrong? Are you okay?” he asked. His voice is worried. Perfect. 

“Can you come over?” you ask. 

“On my way,” he says and hangs up.

Getting out of bed, your hair is a mess. You try to finger comb it, but you have to give up as the knotting gets worse and throw it up on the top of your head. Little pieces are standing up everywhere…oh well. You think about changing your clothes as you look through your closet  but honestly, you think that would seem desperate. You are, though …desperate. Wanting his answers, hugs, kisses. You wanted him to hold you so you could sleep. Hell, he didn't even need to hold you. He just needed to be next to you. You go to sit down on your couch to wait for him. No sooner did your butt meet the cushion. There was a knock at the door.  Taking a deep breath, you get up and walk to the door. Opening the door, Yoongi smiles at you, an unsure, nervous smile. You move to the side without a word to let him pass through the doorway. It's then you notice that he has two large bags with him.   

“I'm happy you called,” he said softly. You gesture him into the living room, and you sit across from each other. You on the old pea colored couch with frayed threads, him on the oversized chair. He looks so small sitting there alone. You studied him sitting there. Really studied him. Yoongi looked just as tired as you felt.  

“I…I'm ready for you to explain,” you tell him. You rub the palms of your hands on your knees nervously. You take a deep breath and brace yourself for the worse.  

“She's an old friend from college. She dated my friend Jooheon,” he explains. “She’s an art dealer that travels all over the place. I texted her about art supplies. If she knew what the best ones were. She said she did and she could probably get anything I wanted. I was supposed to meet her Saturday but after I showered and changed…I fell asleep so we met on Sunday instead. I tried calling you but you didn’t answer. So, I ended up coming over….I,” he sighed and looked at his hands. “I just wanted to surprise you.”

He wasn't a liar or a cheat. You study his face, and he looks defeated, like his world is about to crumble. You know how that feels. Your hands cover your face as you break out in sobs. You were a fool for believing the worst in him. The couch dips, and Yoongi takes you in his arms. His movement seems cautious.  He pulls you as close as he can get you. It only makes you cry harder. That feeling of drowning, the weight in your chest, it was because of you and not him. It was because you couldn't trust him enough. You feel like an awful person, sister, and partner.

“I'm sorry,” you cry. Yoongi grabs your face and makes you look at him. His hands were warm, and it was a welcoming feeling on your skin. “I'm so sorry, Yoongi.” Tears were streaming down your face.

“You have nothing to be sorry for. You had every right to think what you did.” he tells you, wiping the tears away with his thumbs. “I should have told you when I was coming home. I’m so sorry for not calling you. I fucking missed you,”  he says then captures your lips in a kiss. He has a sturdy hold on the back of your head. He doesn't want you to pull away and you don't. You're done fighting him. Yoongi pulls away and gives you a real smile. Letting you go, he gets up and grabs the bags he brought. He placess them by your feet and motions to them with his hands,“Go ahead.” 

You open the bag, and you want to cry again. He was telling you the truth. He got you art supplies and not the generic, big box store brands either. Graphite pencils of different grades, pastels, erasers, blending sticks, blow-bulbs, a portfolio, rulers, paper, and even a finishing spray. You can't even begin to think how much he spent on this. You run your hands over the black portfolio you sat on your lap. You never had access to these items before. You were lucky you had lined paper and a number 2 pencil back in the day. It's perfect, more than perfect. 

“Drawing used to make you so happy,” he says quietly. “Just how music makes me happy. I want you to have that back.” 

“Thank you,” you say as you throw yourself into his lap, hugging him. He holds you to him, both of you silent, relieved, tired.  Pulling back, you run a hand through his hair.  “I really like your hair.” Yoongi laughs heartily. 

“Good,” he responds, pulling you down for another kiss.

That night, as you laid in your bedroom, it wasn't filled with deafening silence like the night before. It wasn't filled with the sounds of passionate sex. It was filled with his quiet snores and both your heartbeats. 

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Tagged Readers:

@unicornbabyloverylover

@marimarvelfan

[satorusugurugurl]

I Think He Knows: (Chapter Ten)

Summary: When your novel takes off and becomes a best seller, doors of opportunities open for you. You can work on the series you have dreamed about all your life. And you’re also given the chance to stay in a tiny cottage in Europe for two years to help with inspiration! Your best friend, Geto Suguru, shatters at the news. How could he tell you how he feels when you leave him? His opportunity appears right before him when you confess that your editor thinks a change of scenery will help with your not-so-steamy romance scenes. They’re lacking a particular spice because you’re a virgin. So, Suguru does what any best friend would do. He offers to teach you how things work. Will you cross that line as friends? Or will you both say goodbye?

Pairing: Geto Suguru x AFAB!Reader

Word Count: 5,445

Warning: smut, love making, unprotected sex, cream pie, goodbyes

A/N: Sorry for the delay! I took a bit of a break! So I lied. We have one more part after this, followed by the epilogue!! I can’t believe this is almost done!!

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight Part Nine Part Eleven

Suguru sighed, his eyes looking over to the clock on the wall, the frown pulling out his lips. He would have to wake you up soon. Your plane to Europe left in four hours, and he still needed to help you pack. He hated to let you go. But at the same time, he wasn’t going to hold you back or make you give up on your dreams. You had spent a month with him, helping him through the trauma that still hurt with each passing day; it got easier to deal with.

You had helped break him from the chains that bound him down in grief. It was all thanks to you. So how could he knowingly keep you in Okinawa when you could live in the cottage you had dreamed about, which had become your muse over the years? The same cottage you had spent hours looking for?

He couldn't be the one to hold you back from that dream.

You stir next to him, humming as you push your face into your pillow before turning your head to look into Suguru’s eyes. There’s a gentle yet almost melancholic grin tucking at the corners of his mouth. You move in closer towards him, cupping his cheek in your hand, gently stroking it, savoring the warmth of his skin against your palm.

“Are you okay?” You noticed how he leaned into you, his eyes shut tight as if he was savoring your touch like you would disappear when he opened his eyes. “Did you have another nightmare?”

‘No, I’m just losing you,’ Suguru thought as he tried to muster his best smile. ‘But we’ll be okay. I’ll make sure of that.’

“No, there were no nightmares. But whenever you’re ready, we need to get up and get you packed.”

“Packed for what?”

“A surprise.”

You perked up, pulling Suguru close to your face, your lips inches from his, gently grazing over the soft skin. “I love surprises.” You kissed him hard, taking control and being the assertive one. Suguru's eyes shut as your teeth over his bottom lip before you gently ran your tongue, easing the slight stinging sensation left in your wake, begging him to let you in.

Your boyfriend knows that if he lets you take control, you will be cutting time short. He needs to get you to the airport, where your agent will be waiting at the gate with your documents, passport, and additional bags for your journey to Europe. He had taken the time all day yesterday evening to set this up so you could finally be at your cottage. Was he going to let you have your way and risk not getting you to the airport in time?

Absolutely.

You whine softly, smiling as your boyfriend grabs the back of your head, pulling your face closer to his as he opens his mouth for you. As you took control, dominating the kiss, stealing his breath away, his eyes shut tight, savoring the way you tasted how soft your body was pressed against his. He embedded the sounds you made into his memory: the soft cries and sharp intakes of breath as he ran his hands over your skin. Your best friend and boyfriend wanted this to last forever.

The way his hand gently stroked your hair while his other hand pushed your (his) shirt up your hips, allowing his hand to rest on your bare panty-clad hip. His fingers began toying with the waistband legally, not rushing to get it off you. That gentle teasing sensation had you melting as you felt his fingers gently graze over the band before moving further down to tease your upper thigh. It was the perfect kind of lazy foreplay that you’ve loved. It drove you crazy, having him touch you but not in the way you wanted, and while you love the romantic gestures and sweet, soft caress and lingering kisses, you also craved Suguru in a carnal way.

“Baby.” the sigh that brushes against your boyfriend's mouth nearly has his resolve shattering like a porcelain doll. You always made the prettiest sounds, especially when you needed him. But he shoves down that hungry field beast that is roaring at him to take you to push your face into the mattress and fuck you from behind. That was a tempting idea, but he didn’t want the last time you were intimate to be rough and greed-driven. He wanted it to be a time he could look back on and get off while you were away. “I need you.”

“Then have me.”

His words are so soft. You might've missed it if he hadn’t whispered them against your mouth. You can feel yourself clenching around nothing, your slut coating the inside of your panties as you moan, straddling his hips. Your boyfriend‘s dark raven hair pulls against the pillows like ink spilled against paper. His eyes are narrowed with lust as his hands, your hips settle on them. Will you pull his shirt up and off your body? Since you both had to confess to how you felt about each other, your boyfriend had seen you naked underneath him over a dozen times, but this was the first time he had you on top.

Your breasts were the perfect size for him. God, he loved how pretty they were. They slightly jiggled with every movement as you sat back, tugging your panties off and throwing them somewhere across the room. Suguru made a mental note to find them when you were both done so he could shove them under his pillow. It would be like keeping a piece of you with him because he was going to miss you so fucking much that he needed a reminder of you.

Humming in pleasure, you ran your hands over his chest, grazing his nipples with your thumbs. His hips jerked up instinctively as his mouth fell, while your manicured nails continued, trailing further over his muscles, tracing over the large ‘X’ scar on his chest, a reminder of the accident. You loved your boyfriend‘s body as much as he loved yours. In this position, you could genuinely worship every inch of him and plan on doing just that.

Your soft touches and the hunger in your eyes fuel your boyfriend's desire. Suguru let out a grunt; his hips buck up against yours with every gentle touch, his eyes remaining shot. He was trying to somehow have his body record the sensation of your skin slowly trailing over his.

“Suguru, are you sure you’re okay?” He seemed out of it, like he had a lot on his mind. If he didn’t want to have sex, he didn’t have to force himself to please you

Suguru gently squeezed your hips. "I'm just memorizing every inch of you, remembering how beautiful you look and how warm your skin feels against your spine.” His eyes cracked open a sliver, and he found your flushed cheeks and face of awe looking down at him.

“Sugu—”

“ I just love you so damn much, princess.”

“I love you too.” Your hips slowly begin rocking against his already stiff and throbbing cock. “I wanna show you just how much I love you.” your pretty hands tugged down his pajama pant just enough to release his cock. “So why don’t you just relax, and I’ll take care of everything?”

Suguru wasn’t sure if it was possible, but he felt like his heart was beating inside his throat, making it dry and difficult to swallow. Watching you grinding your wet pussy over his throbbing erection was almost pornographic. From where he was, your breast continued to bounce with each lazy roll of your hips. Smearing you’re already sucking Cunt against him. Your arousal rubbed over the sensitive vein that ran down the underside of his cock had pre-dribbling out of the tip, smearing against his happy trail.

“Fuuck yes—” your boyfriend digs his fingers into your hips, “just like that princess, just like that~!”

“Haah~Suguru~ Suguru!” Words can’t even describe how good he feels against you. “I wanna ride you, please, pretty please?” How your voice breaks and your eyes flood with tears is almost too arousing. He wants you to beg and plead for more until the point that you are crying for his cock. Unfortunately, he found himself short on time and would have to save that fantasy for another day.

“Yes baby, please ride me, use me.”

You feel giddy, eager to try yet another position. You were reaching for the condom box so fast that you almost fell off your boyfriend, but he quickly caught you holding your ass, massaging it as he pulled you back up against him. Suguru watches you lick your lips as you reach into the box, but you pull out nothing. He stares at your face as you look inside the box with the pout.

“We’re out.”

Those two words did not just come out of your mouth. Your boyfriend sits up, staring at the box as if you were playing some cruel, impractical joke on him. Sure enough, to emphasize your point, you turn the box over and shake it. No shiny foiled packages fall out. This had to be one of the coldest jokes the universe has decided to play on him.

It’s not like you would never have sex again. He planned on coming to see you in Europe eventually. But who knew when that was going to be? Suguru would be stuck in Okinawa for another three months, and when he got home, he'd probably have a new commission before he had the chance to see you.

Why was life so cruel?

“Fuck.” Suguru grunted, falling back against the bed with a sigh. “That sucks.”

“Baby.”

“And we don’t have time to go get more; your surprise is time-sensitive.”

“Honey—”

“I’m sorry I ju—mmhm!”

Your hand clamped firmly down over Suguru’s mouth, preventing him from continuing to ramble anymore. “I have the IUD.” You whisper, rocking your hips slowly over his still-hard cock. “We can still do it if you want.” Suguru’s eyes widen as he sits back up, wrapping his arms around you as you pull your hand away from his mouth.

“You have the IUD?”

“Yep.”

“Since when?!”

You smirk, cock a brow at him. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I got it in high school. My cramps were so bad, they recommended it.” Suguru’s face is a dusty rose color as he swallows hard. “I’m just saying it’s an option; I’m clean, obviously—but if you don’t wanna do it, that’s fine.” Dark hair falls on Suguru’s face as he shakes his head.

“N-No, I want to, it's just—I’ve never done it without a condom before. So it’s uhm,” His cock throbs eagerly at the idea of feeling your warmth wrapped around him without any latex. “It would be a new experience.”

“One you would want to experience with me?”

You feel your heart racing in your chest, like the wings of a hummingbird. Seeing Suguru blush, watching him slowly smile as he reaches down, grabs your ass, and massages it, leaves you aching for him. You grind down, finding his still-hard cock rubbing eagerly against your slick folds.

“I wouldn’t want it to be with anyone else.”

Your lips are on his the second he stops talking and kissing him in a frantic, needy way. Your moans flood his mouth as he lays back down against the mattress, his hips bucking up into you, feeling your pussy twitch. He groaned out a needy laugh, tilting his head back as you broke the kiss to trail kisses along the side of his neck. You nip and suck at his skin, trailing your tongue down over his broad shoulders before you place both your hands on his chest, lifting yourself.

Looking down at him, you feel a certain fire kindling in your lower abdomen as heat pulls between your legs. You feel every inch of your body, every nerve screaming at you to take him. To have the most primal sex with him. Without any hesitation, you reach behind you, sitting back just enough for you to position his cock with your entrance.

The instant you begin sliding down on his cock, Suguru exhaled a breath he didn’t know he had been holding in. You were so tight, warm, and wet. So wet, nothing could have prepared him for how wet you were. It was taking everything in his power not to blow his load like he was seventeen.

“O-Oooh.” The soft sound that came from your mouth had Suguru’s eyebrows knitted together. “Oh fuck.” Your mouth was agape, your eyes narrowed, and a pretty flush dusted your cheeks and chest. “S-Suguru, your cock feels so—warm.”

Suguru felt multiple things in the span of zero point two seconds. His heart and cock swelled, his eyes went wide, pupils dilating as he stared solely at you, and his hands grabbed your hips, forcing you down further. You gasped, sliding further down his girth, your head falling forward as your nails dug into his shoulders as he stretched you out like he had done countless times in the last month, only this time was more intense.

You could feel him, how soft and warm he was. You could feel his veins that grazed over the deepest parts of you as Suguru continued to pull you down into his length. Only stopping one, your hips were flesh against his. He twitched and throbbed inside of you, wild. His fingers gently squeezed your sides, slowly trailing over the fantastic curves of your body. Each inch of skin he traveled across made your skin more sensitive, making you twitch around his velvety smooth cock, making you wetter.

“You’re wet.” hearing him say that while he laid underneath you made you wetter. “Fuck~ fuuuck Princess so fuckin’ wet.”

You slowly ease yourself off his cock with a whine before slamming back down. “Hnngh~ Suguru~” Nails dug harder into his skin, leaving crescent moon shapes in your wake as you tilted your head back, bouncing yourself up and down his cock.

“Princess~” he tensed his jaw, holding your hips tight as he whispered to you. "Fuck, Princess—just—just like that—"

You whimpered and lowered yourself further onto him faster. "F-Fuck." You breathed out lightly as you looked at your sweet boyfriend.

“Babe—fuck, fuck, fuuuck.” He hissed out, lifting his head slightly to watch you take his cock with each bounce. “Fuck, haaah, fuckin wet—so goddamn wet.” He was trying so hard not to thrust up into you, letting you have complete control.

Your eyebrows knitted together, and you gasped out slightly, rolling your hips back and forth. Making the tip of his cock rub perfectly against your g-spot. A warmth began spreading through your stomach as you peered down at Suguru with glossy eyes that were lost in pleasure. "Suguru~” The wet sounds of your fucking yourself on Suguru’s cock filled the room, making him dig his hands into your side harder.

Suguru looked glorious underneath you as he panted hard. He was getting drunk off of you and your tight walls as his eyebrows knitted as much as yours, if not more. "Princess." He growled, desperately trying not to fuck into you. "You're so pretty." He whispered as you laughed breathlessly, trying so hard not to cum.

You took a deep breath before pulling back, allowing yourself to start riding him faster. Your eyes were shut tight as you cried out with each rock of your hips. You were rolling them faster and harder against him. Seeing you so into it, the way your lips fell open, eyes rolling back, you looked so fucking pretty. Suguru was so happy he would get to imagine you like this while you were gone.

Suguru grunted softly, trying to hold on to himself. "F-Fuck— I-Im close already.—! Y-Youre taking me so deep." You could tell you weren’t doing much better than he was. Using all of the strength you could muster, you pulled yourself up and off his cock before slamming yourself back down on him.

“Then cum~ fill me up, Suguru~”

“Haaah! Nngh! Fuck!”

His eyes shot wide, and he let out a choked moan, loud enough for your neighbors to hear as he jerked up into you. His eyes rolled back into his skull as his thumb quickly found your clit rubbing it harshly as he fucked into you. You felt so full of his cum, so much so you were quick to follow him over the edge, body going rigid as you stared into each other's eyes as you came.

Suguru’s cum felt so hot inside of your lips pressed against his. He growled, sitting up, holding you tight against his chest as you both basked in the afterglow. He wanted this moment to last, for it to never end; Suguru wanted to flip you over and fuck you into the mattress without any remorse, to make love to you, to have you stay by his side. But he knew he couldn’t do that.

So, despite wanting to listen to what his body and heart wanted to do, he broke the kiss, pressing his forehead against yours as he shakily sighed against your mouth. You giggled, running your hands up and down his back as he smiled.

“Talk about a good morning.”

Was it a good morning? Not when he was about to watch you leave. There was nothing good about letting you go. But it was the right thing for him to do.

“Yeah,” he pressed a kiss against your cheek, “but we need to get going.”

“Oh! Right, the surprise!” You felt your boyfriend nod his head as he shifted underneath you. “I guess I should go shower.”

“Yeah.”

The next hour is weird. It’s not the excitement you often get when spontaneous trips are planned. This bizarre feeling had your heart in your stomach, all because of how Suguru acted.

For the first time in weeks, he seemed down. He was quiet as he helped you pack your bags, his eyes focusing on everything and anything but you as you got ready. Dressing in comfortable clothes as he instructed, he did not give you any more clues about what was happening. Not knowing what was happening when your best friend, who you could typically read like a book, was acting so standoffish had your anxiety on high alert.

Different scenarios of what could happen played through your mind like a bad sitcom on repeat. Was he angry? Upset over the fact you had done it raw? Or was he getting irritated with how close you guys were? Saying that you spent almost every day together, you could see if you wanted some space. If that were the case, he could ask you to stay at the condo. So, for him to pack your bags and a new laptop that you hadn’t even finished setting up, let you know something was happening.

You didn’t want to question what was going on in his head. You didn’t want to come off as some clingy, overly suspicious girlfriend. Especially since he was your best friend, Suguru would never do anything malicious, and you would hope that if he had an issue with something you were doing, you would come out and talk to you.

You could not deny the fact that his behavior was strange. And it continued to grow more with every minute. His eyes continuously darted towards the clocks, checking the time on his wrist on the wall. He had planned time-sensitive things, which you can see as clearly as day. What exactly was sensitive thought? You had no clue. Instead, I’m asking point-blank what was going on. Instead of questioning what was happening, you sat in the back of the car next to him as your driver began heading down the road.

Suguru could quickly feel the tension building between you. Since you had showered, his stomach had been in nothing but knots. Those not twisted into unbreakable bonds the second you both loaded into the car. He could feel your eyes lingering on him for an eternity. When he glanced at you, you quickly focused on your hands.

Was this the right way to go about this? Should he have told you what he had planned to do at the beginning of the day? Or was this just the easiest way to get through letting you go?

His second-guessing came to an abrupt stop as the driver took the exit to the airport. For a second, all of the anxiety and worry plaguing you for the last hour evaporated into the air. Fear was replaced with excitement as you pressed your hands against the window, eyes sparkling as you stared at the airport that was drawing closer.

“Are we going somewhere?”

‘You are.’ Suguru thought to himself as he shook his head.

“Oh, are our friends here?” When your boyfriend shook his head for the second time, you pouted, pursing your lips and thought as you glanced towards the car's roof.

There was a certain cuteness about your frustration trying to figure out what he had planned. But you would never figure this out. Not in one million years have you ever guessed what he was about to do.

The car pulls up to the curb, and Suguru is the first to get out, rushing into your side to open the door for you. You grab his hand, allowing him to help you out of the car as the driver grabs your bags from the trunk. When the driver finally pulled away from the curb, Suguru grabbed your stuff and headed into the air-conditioned airport.

“So we are going on a trip?” You laugh nervously, following him up to the elevators. “Are you just trying to psych me out?”

“Yes.”

Everything made sense, and you felt your shoulders relax as you rode the elevator up to the second floor, where Security was. As you looked to tease him for being so secretive, you saw the warm brown and dark hair of your editor waiting near the security check. She has two large suitcases by her side, and she’s typing away on her phone with one hand while holding a folder in the other.

“Utahime?” you question, your voice like a whisper as you cock an eyebrow at your agent and friend.

Suguru grabs your chin with one hand, lifting it slightly so you can look into his eyes. “You’re taking a trip.” He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out an envelope. “You’re going to Europe.” Time stands still as your eyes land on the envelope.

“What?”

The background noise of bustling travelers and messages being announced on the intercom is nothing more than white noise to you. You can hear the sound of your throbbing heart, and your ears, your chest; your eyes linger on your boyfriend’s hand. Europe? Why were you going to Europe, and more importantly, how the hell did Suguru know about Europe?

“Suguru, look I—“

“I had Utahime send in your acceptance letter last night. You’re going to stay at the cottage.”

The large airport seems to begin closing on you like a shrinking box. Your eyes dart towards your agent before up at your boyfriend, who has the softest yet saddest smile on his lips. The cottage is the same cottage you would have to stay in for two years. Two years away from your best friend who had just become your boyfriend after nearly two decades of being friends.

When Suguru notices the hesitation in your eyes and your whole demeanor, he gently takes your hand and turns it face up. Without so much as a word, he plays the envelope in your hand before placing his hand on top of it. That small, gentle gesture hurts like a thousand knives to the chest.

You open your mouth to speak to protest to do anything other than stand there like an idiot, but the words seem to fail you. The cottage is something you have always dreamed about. It was your inspiration. It had been your muse for years. You found that cottage in a magazine years ago had been the inspiration for your book series. But is it worth leaving Suguru for two years to stay there?

“Hey,” Suguru’s smooth, gentle voice pulls you out of the spiral you were spinning in. “We’re going to be okay.”

“I-I—but,” you sniffle, “what about you? I need to stay here with you. I want to be here with you to support you.”

“You have supported me.” Suguru quickly adds, easing some of the pain and doubt. “I’m going to be okay. You have no idea what your support, words, and shared truth has done for me.” He pressed his forehead against yours, sighing softly as you choked on a whimper. “You helped me realize I can heal. It’s going to take some time, but I know if I need to talk to you and hear that reassurance that everything is going to be okay, you’re just a phone call away. And I can’t thank you enough for that Princess. What I can do is encourage you to take an opportunity that comes once in a lifetime.”

There’s no doubt in his mind that he’s making the right choice. However, there is a tremble behind his voice as he desperately tries to hold himself together like a million pieces of microglass, which is much harder than it looks. Because he can see the hesitation in your eyes. You’re loyal; you don’t want to leave him. If you were given the chance, you would stay. But giving up on your dreams is something he wouldn’t be held accountable for.

“But it’s a two-year lease; I can’t get out of it if I go; I don’t even think I can’t get out of it now that the papers are signed.” You feel the tears in your eyes as they blur your vision.

A thumb reaches up and brushes away you’re straight tears. “I know it’s a two-year lease. But I promise you that we’re going to make this work.” you lean into his touch, chasing the warmth of his hand. “Like I said, I’ll call every day. I’ll see you. We can video chat. We’ll make this work.” You cry softly, leaning your face into the palm of his hand. “I waited almost two decades to be with you. Talking to you and telling you how much I love you will suffice me enough rather than waiting another two years to confess to you. I’ll take what I can get.”

“I love you.”

“And I love you more than you’ll ever know. But you have to go and see your muse.”

Your muse, the cottage, your inspiration. “Suguru.” He’s so selfless, telling you to chase your dreams even though he loves you. “I-I—” he nods, bringing you closer to his face.

“I know, Princess. I love you too.” He pulls you in and kisses you deeply, making you choke on a sob as you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you.

The kiss had to be the most passionate kiss you’d ever shared. Love, desire, and agony were all conveyed in that one singular kiss. It hurt, god, to be saying goodbye. You deepened the kiss, holding onto him tight, not wanting to let go, not wanting to say goodbye just yet.

However, Suguru pulled away first; if he let that kiss continue, it would end up with him begging you to stay. Contradicting everything he had told you up to this point. His forehead presses against yours as he stares into her eyes with the softest gaze.

“You need to go. Utahime has everything for you. Text me, please. I want a tour of that little cottage the second you get inside. I want to see that smile on your face. I want you to be happy.”

“Hey, love birds, can we get a move on? We still have paperwork to sign, and I can’t do that here at the security checkpoint.” Utahime interrupted your goodbye.

Suguru sighed, nodding his head as he helped put your backpack on. “Iori is right; you got stuff to do before your flight.” This wasn’t right. Saying goodbye so quickly felt like a nightmare. “Text me!” the love of your life shouts as Iori hurries forward, grabbing your wrist and pulling you towards security.

The entire time you walked, you glanced back at Suguru, who was waving as you stood in line waiting to be called next to check your ID and passport. You felt your heart pounding in your ears as people got in the line behind you, blocking your view of your boyfriend, who was standing there watching you fade away. He smiled, holding his hand up and waving, but you could see the pain carved into his features.

Was this the last time you were going to get to see him? God knows how long until he could come down to see you. Suddenly, it felt too hot, your chest tightening as you tried to peek over the shoulders of the people behind you to glimpse Suguru. Your best friend, boyfriend, and your—everything.

He was your first friend in the strange city you had just moved to. He was there when you had a crush on flat-out refused to take your confession letter. He held you in his arms that night, comforting and telling you everything would be okay. Suguru always made sure to hold your drink if you went to the bathroom at the club. He always walked you home, even though you lived in the same apartment building.

Geto Suguru had been your first true love, your first for everything. You were willing to put everything you wanted to do on hold for him. You were so happy to come to Okinawa with him, to be by his side when he needed you. Just like he had been there for you when you needed help with your book. Suguru was more than your lover and boyfriend—Suguru was—your—.

‘And I love you more than you’ll ever know. But you have to go; you have to see your muse.’

You stopped, eyes going wide as reality hit you. You stood on your tip-toes, watching as Suguru turned, disappearing into the crowd of people lining up for security. Iori kept talking, dragging you closer toward the security agent, rambling on about everything you needed to do. All while Suguru drifted further and further away from you.

“When we sit down for lunch—” Utahime rambled on, only to gasp as your suitcase was tossed along with your backpack. “H-Hey!”

You were shoving your way through the crowd, ignoring the dirty looks and curses shouted your way. Not once did you lose your stride as you pushed further through the crowd, trying to keep your eyes on your dark-haired boyfriend, who slipped further and further away. He was getting too far! You had to get him to stop. Taking a deep breath, you did the one thing you could do: you screamed as you ran, breaking free from the line, your hair flowing as you stumbled forward.

“Suguru!!”

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ITHK Tag List (TO BE ADDED AGE MUST BE IN BIO)

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[ghostchems]

infernal - terzo x f!reader - part seven

and now... a flashback chapter

art by the always amazing @piaart

author’s note: i feel like shit but it helped me finish this up. plenty of terzo pain here meanwhile reader is home, blissfully unaware. i also have no idea if my writing is good at this point but here ya go! part one/two/three/four/five/six. ao3 link.

If you could see the wreck I am these days, you’d have new reasons to stay away. Just hold my hand for a little while —

Misery never goes out of style.

Terzo traces a delicate finger along one of the bags under his eyes, no longer concealed by the dark eye paint he once wore. His brows furrow at the sight of himself in the mirror. The wrinkles have deepened since he left the stage. His hair, now less lustrous, betrays gray strands emerging from his roots and sideburns. All those years spent cultivating his image, trying to become the perfect imperfection that Lucifer himself boasted—only to unravel after one fateful show. He grits his teeth, his mismatched eyes sharpening in his reflection.

With all the glitz stripped away, he loathes how much he now resembles his father…

Terzo forces the thought out of his head. His days are spent analyzing his time as Papa and what went wrong. He wouldn’t do anything differently but it still stung, especially after the new heights and exposure he had achieved for the Ministry. Somehow, it was not enough. His father was never proud of him, a theme that stretched throughout his entire life. Terzo was only ever the Third to him, the third son that would serve his purpose and then be pushed aside for whoever was next. While this had been the typical progression, Terzo was the fool who thought he would be different — even after being warned by Secondo.

Secondo.

“Cazzo.”

He’s late for Uno Night.

The once-revered Emeritus brothers now find themselves relegated to a desolate corner of the abbey with their only entertainment being a silly card game. Their influence wanes with each passing day. Terzo can't help but sneer at the irony of their situation - former leaders now barely more than forgotten relics, with only each other’s company. There was a time when the Emeritus brothers were revered as gods among men. Crowds would surge forward at their concerts, desperate to touch the hem of their robes or catch a glimpse of their painted faces. Devotees would line up for hours, sometimes days, just for the chance to receive a blessing or a fleeting moment of attention. Their every word was treated as gospel, their gestures analyzed and imitated by legions of faithful followers.

In the halls of the Ministry, their presence commanded instant respect and adoration. Ghouls and Siblings of Sin alike would bow their heads in reverence as they passed. Their chambers were filled with lavish gifts from admirers - exotic incense, priceless artifacts, and fervent love letters. The very air seemed to crackle with power and dark allure whenever they entered a room. Now, that electric atmosphere has faded to a dull static. The gifts have stopped coming, the adoring crowds have moved on to newer, shinier idols. The once-mighty Emeritus brothers find themselves grasping at the fading light of their former glory, clinging to memories of a time when they were worshipped as the embodiments of their infernal master.

He used to delicately paint his face for each meeting, a ritual of devotion to himself and his roll as Papa. But now, as he stares at his bare face, he feels a bitter resentment towards the being he once revered. The paint feels like a mask of lies, concealing the growing doubts and anger festering within him. Lucifer's promises of power and glory now ring hollow in his ears, leaving only the taste of ash and disappointment. Terzo exhales through his nose and tears himself away from the mirror, satisfied with his appearance but frustrated with the progression of his thoughts. He had grown more disillusioned by the day with the cause he so passionately promoted, the being he worshipped. Lucifer, once his guiding light, now seemed like a cruel puppeteer, manipulating him for some cosmic joke.

Omega did not like these thoughts. In fact, Terzo has begun avoiding him and instead has been seeking the company of his brothers. Perhaps the one silver lining in all of this is that he is closer than he ever has been with his true family, minus daddy dearest, of course. They had grown up together, with Primo practically raising him and Secondo after they had come to the ministry. Back then he was a true zealot - a satanic lunatic whose fervor for the dark arts knew no bounds. It was from him that Terzo learned the intricacies of their infernal faith, absorbing every ritual and incantation with wide-eyed fascination. Yet, somehow, both Terzo and Secondo emerged less fanatical than their older brother.

But still competitors, nonetheless. Secondo and Terzo had been born to different mothers three months apart so it came naturally. The more time spent together now, the more they realize how similar they can be and deep down, Terzo wishes they had not been so combative. It was encouraged, though, fed and grown by the higher ups in the ministry and their father. Maybe they feared they would be too powerful if they were close.

Now all they care about is Uno.

"Fuck!" Terzo exclaims again, his voice tinged with frustration as he runs a hand tiredly over his face. The weight of his thoughts bears down on him, but he knows he can't afford to dwell any longer. With a deep sigh, he forces himself into action, slipping his feet into his shoes - the familiar spats clicking as he gets them on. Just as he reaches for the door handle, a sharp knock echoes through the room. Terzo pauses, his hand hovering in mid-air. Irritation flashes across his face.

"Enter," he calls out, his voice tinged with impatience.

The door creaks open, revealing a young Sibling of Sin. Their face is pale, eyes wide with fear and urgency. Terzo's irritation gives way to curiosity as he takes in their disheveled appearance.

"What is it?" he asks, his tone softening slightly.

The Sibling swallows hard before speaking, their voice trembling. "Papa, I... I have news. It's about Omega."

Terzo's eyebrows furrow. "Omega? What about him?" He nonchalantly goes back to adjusting his outfit, wondering if this is another plot from the ghoul to try and make him listen to “reason”. He certainly has stooped rather low, almost as low as Terzo.

The Sibling takes a deep breath, as if steeling themselves for what they're about to say. "He's been banished, Papa. Omega has been cast out of the Ministry."

The words hit Terzo like a physical blow. He stumbles back a step, his mind reeling. "Banished?" he repeats, his voice barely above a whisper. "But... how? Why?" Pain is etched across his face.

The Sibling shakes their head, clearly as confused and shaken as Terzo. "I don't know the details, Papa. It happened so suddenly. They're saying it came from the highest levels of the Ministry."

Terzo's mind races, his emotions threatening to overwhelm him. Shock, confusion, and a sudden, unexpected pang of loss all vie for dominance. Despite their recent disagreements, Omega had been a constant in his life for so long. The thought of him being gone, cast out... it's almost inconceivable.

Terzo's composure shatters as the weight of the news crashes over him. His eyes flash with unbridled fury, causing the Sibling to take an involuntary step back. "Get out!" he roars, his voice reverberating off the walls. "Leave me! Now!" The Sibling, wide-eyed with fear, scrambles to obey, nearly tripping over their own feet in their haste to escape. Terzo slams the door with such force that the entire room seems to shake, the sound echoing through the corridors like a thunderclap.

As soon as the barrier between him and the outside world is secure, everything crumbles. A primal roar of anguish and frustration tears from his throat, echoing off the walls of his private chambers. In a whirlwind of unbridled emotion, he lashes out at his surroundings. His fist connects with the ornate mirror adorning his vanity, the impact sending a spider web of cracks across its surface before it shatters completely. Shards of glass rain down, glittering in the dim light like fallen stars.

But Terzo's rage demands more destruction. He overturns his meticulously organized desk, unleashing an avalanche of papers, pens, and trinkets onto the floor. Books, once neatly arranged on shelves, are torn free and flung across the room, their pages fluttering like disoriented birds. His wardrobe—a carefully curated collection of robes and suits that once symbolized his power and prestige—falls victim to his fury next. Garments are ripped from hangers and strewn about haphazardly, silk and velvet mingling with the debris below. Spotting one of his Papal robes, an early prototype, he seizes it and tears, splitting seams and fabric into pieces with savage force.

He could kill them. End the reign of his father and Sister Imperator with a knife to their throats, a hammer to their heads. He’s capable and he’s angry.

But that’s not who Terzo is.

His appetite for destruction is as swift as it is thorough. When the storm of his anger finally subsides, Terzo finds himself standing amidst the wreckage of his once-immaculate quarters. His chest heaves with each ragged breath, his knuckles having bloodied his gloves from his outburst. The room, previously a testament to his refined tastes and exalted position, now lies in utter ruin around him. He closes his eyes, drawing in a deep, shuddering breath as the full weight of what has transpired begins to settle upon him.

The dust settles around him, both literally and figuratively, as his mind wanders to Omega. Their relationship, once the core of his existence within the Ministry, had deteriorated over the past several months, transforming into a strained and tenuous connection. The rift between them had widened, growing into a seemingly unbridgeable gap that threatened to swallow everything they shared whole. Omega, ever faithful of their infernal master, had persistently begged Terzo to embrace what he perceived as a well-deserved retirement—a supposed reward bestowed upon them by Lucifer himself for their years of unwavering service and dedication.

"Papa, you've more than earned this rest," Omega would implore, his eyes blazing with sheer intensity behind his cool mask that Terzo found increasingly difficult to look at. "Our Dark Lord Lucifer, in his infinite wisdom, has granted you this period of rest and reflection. Why do you persist in resisting? Can you not see the honor in this gift he has bestowed upon you?"

But for Terzo, the notion of settling into a life of idle luxury felt suffocating—a gilded cage that threatened to strip away everything he had fought so hard to achieve. The very thought of turning his back on the empire he had painstakingly built, nurtured, and expanded over the years felt like a betrayal of who he is and what defines him. As time wore on, his arguments with Omega grew increasingly heated and frequent, his frustration mounting with each tense exchange, threatening to boil over into hostility.

"You call this rest, Omega?" Terzo would retort, his voice rising with each impassioned word, hands gesticulating wildly to emphasize his point. "This isn't rest—it's nothing short of exile, a banishment from everything I've ever known and loved! How can you, of all people, expect me to sit idly by, content to watch as everything I've dedicated my life to—my very existence—crumbles around me like dust?" The air between them would crackle with tension during these confrontations, an electric charge that made it increasingly difficult for them to occupy the same space without the risk of conflict erupting at any moment.

Now, with the shocking news of Omega's sudden and unexpected banishment reverberating through the chambers of his mind, Terzo finds himself consumed with emotion. Relief, guilt, anger, and a profound sense of loss intertwine in a dizzying dance, each vying for dominance in the turbulent landscape of his mind. Despite their recent differences and the ever-widening divide between them, Omega had been a constant, unwavering presence in Terzo's life for longer than he cared to remember—a touchstone of familiarity. His abrupt absence leaves a gaping void in the fabric of Terzo's existence, a wound so deep and raw that he isn't certain he possesses the means to heal it.

Even with the turmoil raging inside him, Terzo finds himself drawn to the familiar comfort of his brothers' company. With a heavy sigh, he straightens his posture and smooths down his attire, a reflexive gesture from years of public appearances. He may be struggling, but he'll be damned if he lets it show—at least not to them. They have all had their hardships. If anyone knows and understands what he is feeling right now, it is his brothers. Terzo’s steps are heavy, using his feet to clear a path forward amidst everything now on the floor. He reaches the door, hesitating for just a moment. There’s a weight pressing down on him that threatens to crush him, to break him down until there’s nothing left.

He won’t let it.

Terzo opens the door and leaves his room. As he makes his way towards the small room where their Uno nights are held, his mind goes blank, going numb to the intense feelings that are simmering beneath the surface. He trudges down the dimly lit corridor, his footsteps echoing off the ancient stone walls, focusing on that sound to keep him grounded. As he rounds a corner, lost in the maelstrom of his thoughts, a familiar voice catches his attention, causing him to halt abruptly.

Turning, he sees Cardinal Copia emerging from his office, a stack of papers tucked under one arm and an Uno card inexplicably held between two fingers of his free hand. The Cardinal's painted face breaks into a warm smile as he spots Terzo, oblivious to the storm brewing within the former Papa.

"Ah, Papa, on your way to Uno Night, yes?” The cheerful greeting hangs in the air, a stark contrast to the darkness swirling within Terzo.

Terzo's entire body tenses, his jaw clenching so tightly he can hear his teeth grind. The sight of him, so content and oblivious to the turmoil raging through the Ministry, ignites a fire in Terzo's chest—one that he had hoped was extinguished following his outburst in his room. His eyes narrow as he regards Copia with barely contained irritation. "Uno Night," he repeats, his voice low and controlled, though tension radiates from every syllable. "Mmm… yes." He takes a step closer to Copia, his presence suddenly looming and intimidating.

Copia's smile falters slightly, but he presses on, still oblivious and sweet. "It's become quite the tradition with your brothers, hasn't it?" He hesitates for a moment, then reaches into his sleeve and pulls out a blue reverse card. He holds it out to Terzo, a tentative peace offering. "Here, Papa. I always keep this one for luck. Perhaps... perhaps you'd like to have it for tonight's game?"

Terzo's gaze sharpens dangerously as he struggles to maintain his composure. His arms are crossed tightly over his chest, fingers digging into his biceps. The sight of that blue card in Copia's hand—a symbol of the carefree life he now leads—causes the fire to spread inside him, consuming him yet again. Terzo’s voice, when he finally speaks, is low and menacing, barely above a whisper.

"Tradition?" His voice is guttural and rough. "You dare speak to me of tradition when everything is crumbling around us? When the very foundations of our world are ripped away from us?" His words are full of anguish and rage, each one striking Copia like a physical blow.

The Cardinal stumbles back, his expression morphing from confusion to outright fear. "P-Papa, I... I don't understand-" he stammers, his voice trembling.

"Of course you don't understand!" Terzo cuts him off, his composure shattering completely. "You're nothing but a pawn, a naive fool dancing to their twisted tune!" He gestures wildly, his movements sharp and erratic. "Do you have any idea what's happening beyond your little bubble of blissful ignorance? Omega is gone! Banished! Cast out like yesterday's trash! And here you stand, grinning like a fool, oblivious to the chaos swirling around you!"

Copia's eyes widen in shock, the full weight of Terzo's words finally sinking in. "Omega? But how- Why-" he begins, but Terzo is far from finished.

Terzo snatches the blue Uno card from Copia's hand, gripping it so hard it begins to crumble in his grip. "And this?" he spits, brandishing it like damning evidence. "You think this changes anything? You think a game can fix what's broken? This card, this... this mockery of what we once were!" His voice rises to a near-scream. "Do you have any idea what this represents? It's not just a game, you fool! It's everything we've lost, everything that's been taken from us!"

With a primal yell that seems to shake the very stones of the corridor, Terzo tears the card to shreds. The pieces flutter between them like confetti, a mockery of celebration in this moment of utter despair. Copia flinches, raising his hands as if to shield himself from the physical manifestation of Terzo's rage.

"P-Papa, please," Copia stammers, his voice barely above a whisper, a plea for understanding, for mercy. "I didn't mean to-"

But Terzo is beyond reason, beyond mercy. His voice drops to a low, dangerous hiss, each word dripping with venom. "Get out of my sight," he commands, his tone brooking no argument. "You don't belong here. You never will. You're nothing but a pale imitation, a cheap replacement for something you could never hope to understand. And take your pathetic games with you!"

As Copia retreats, practically running down the corridor, Terzo stands amidst the scattered remains of the card. His chest heaves with each ragged breath, anger and grief warring within him. In the sudden silence, the weight of his actions begins to settle upon him. He knows, in some distant corner of his mind, that he's overreacted, that Copia isn't truly to blame for the chaos engulfing their world. But in this moment, all he can feel is the crushing weight of loss - of his position, of Omega, of everything he once held dear. And that damned Uno card, now in pieces at his feet, seems to mock him with its cheerful blue color, a stark contrast to the darkness consuming his soul.

If only he could reverse being removed from the Papacy.

With a deep, shuddering breath, Terzo straightens his posture and adjusts his shirt in an attempt to calm himself. He struggles to push down the turmoil within, determined not to let his brothers see his inner struggle. As he approaches the card room, he steels himself, forcing his face into a mask of nonchalance.

Opening the door, he finds his brothers already seated. An almost startling wave of relief washes over him. He allows a scoff to escape his lips at the sight of Primo, face fully painted and wearing a Burberry scarf. Before he can comment, Secondo interjects.

"Already gave him trouble for it, stronzino. If you'd been on time, you could've joined." There's a glint of mischief in Secondo's eyes.

Terzo rolls his eyes, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth despite his best efforts to maintain his aloof facade. He saunters over to the table, pulling up a chair with dramatic flair. "Well, shall we begin? I'm feeling particularly lucky tonight." He shoots a pointed look at Secondo, silently accepting the challenge in his brother's gaze.

He settles into his seat and the feeling of relief continues to spread through him. Here, surrounded by his brothers and the familiar rhythm of an extremely low-stakes card game, he can momentarily push aside his anger and frustration. In this room, he's not the fallen Papa or a disappointment to the Ministry - he's simply Terzo, the youngest of the Emeritus brothers, ready to lose himself in the game and forget, if only for a while, how far he has fallen.

On this particular evening, Sister Imperator and Papa Nihil would make an unexpected appearance, delivering news that would leave the brothers startled and confused.

They would be unable to continue their card game.

Terzo is deep in his desk chair, his body nearly slipped from it onto the floor. His gaze is locked on the the hell phone which has been ringing nonstop since you left for the night. Your taste is still on his tongue, your scent clinging to his robe. He’s afraid to move to disturb the haze he’s settled into, even though you would be back bright and early for work the morning after next. Fingers fall to his temples, rubbing them with each piercing ring of the phone.

He wouldn’t answer. He doesn’t want to face who is on the other line.

Was it Omega? What could he possibly say? He would only complicate matters—as he already has. The hell phone materialized before you, and you listened to the sounds of the abyss. It drove you into Terzo's arms and bed, but... you didn't deserve to experience such terrors or feel so frightened in his home. Or at least, if anyone was going to frighten you it should be him. His fingers drum along the arms of the chair, a deep grumble vibrating from his chest. The goal is to get you to stay, to devote yourself to him and only him. Yet the fear gnaws at him. What if the terrors you've witnessed push you away? The thought of losing you to the very darkness he once revered sends a chill through him. He wants you by his side, but you have to want to be there. Perhaps, he muses bitterly, this is another of Lucifer's cruel jokes—dangling happiness before him, only to threaten it with the very forces he once embraced.

Maybe the imp who fixed your tire that Terzo had shredded was calling. What was that all about? He didn’t have time to mull that incident over earlier while you were here. Is he manifesting things?

The memory of when he had accidentally shocked you resurfaces, Terzo's frown deepens. He recalls the pain on your face when he zapped your wrist. His gaze drifts to his hands, studying them as if they belong to a stranger. These hands that once commanded crowds, that channeled unholy energies with precision and purpose, now feel like unpredictable weapons. He clenches his fists, feeling the familiar tingle of power just beneath his skin. What if he hurts you again?

Another memory flits to the forefront of his mind — when he screamed at you over his relics being displayed causing a lightbulb to shatter. He remembers the fear in your eyes as it happened. It wasn't Lucifer's doing—it was his own power, his own lack of control. The realization hits him like a punch to the gut. Perhaps the true threat to your happiness, to any chance of a future together, isn't some external force or cosmic joke. It's him.

The silver lining is that you had seemed to be… into it. But what if next time, it's worse than a small shock or a broken bulb?

The thought sends a wave of despair crashing over him. Is he doomed to be alone, forever isolated by the very gifts that once made him special? The irony isn't lost on him—he who once reveled in his dark powers, who used them to seduce and enthrall, now fears them as the very thing that might drive you away. Terzo slumps further in his chair. The illusion of his perfection continues to fade but he’s stubborn. Unwilling to change his ways even though he knows he can be cruel and difficult.

He originally expected you to just deal with it.

Terzo rises with a frustrated growl, letting the hell phone continue its incessant ringing. He stalks over to his liquor cabinet, hands trembling slightly as he pours himself a generous measure of whiskey. What have you done to him? How dare you make him want to be better? He decides he must, at the very least, attempt to protect you from whatever hell seemingly has in store for you. This includes tempering his emotions, an obvious factor of his otherworldly abilities. Seriously, how dare you?

Taking a long swig, he savors the burn as it slides down his throat. It's a familiar comfort, one that does little to reduce the budding anxiety he feels. With a heavy sigh, he turns his back on the still-ringing phone and retreats to his bedroom, drink in hand. The door closes behind him, muffling the sound of the hell phone but he can still feel its presence. Terzo takes another sip, hoping to drink himself into unconsciousness.

Only two sleeps until he sees you again.

[stylesispunk]

"The not so invisible String" part 4

Not outbreak! Joel Miller x F! Reader

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summary: you and Joel were made right for each other at the wrong time. Now, thirteen years later your paths crossed when both of your daughters get in trouble at school. Would be the right time for you now?

word count: 5,5k

warnings: angst, cheating, in summary, it is a terrible day for the reader. "Doe" is her nickanme. No proof reading haha

a/n: Hello! Well, it took me almost two weeks (again) to write something. It was my birthday on Tuesday so my inspo came back for a moment because I felt happy that day. Reblogs and comments are always appreciated. Happy reading 💌 Remember my dms and asks are always open for you

dividers by @/saradika.

Time stopped. Tears and tears streamed down your cheeks. Humiliated, broken, and foolish. There was nothing but fury and desire next to a flame that threatened to explode into a fire, burning all the last years you had spent beside a man who just caused pain.

Your hands on the wheel were shaking, and your knuckles were purple after punching a thousand times, cursing Dwight’s name as if it were poison with a bitter taste in your lips.

You were following him. Following the path to the world he had built behind your back to trap him in the act, to defy him, to hit him, and finally to remove the dagger he had punched in your lungs.

You were going to free yourself from a world of dirty lies you and Dwight had created to free yourselves from old flames that didn’t allow you to advance, but you had loved and respected him, even when he left you in the dark.

Like everybody else, you thought.

There was always someone better—someone to run to, someone to love—but it was never you.

You were the one left in ruins, playing hide and seek, alone, and crying.

All the negative thoughts running through your head stopped the minute Dwight parked the car in a pretty nice house, where he had been playing doll house with another woman and another child.

You parked the car a discreet distance away from where Dwight had entered, and your hands were still trembling as you sat there, grappling with the maelstrom of emotions tearing through your heart.

It seemed like this city was cursed.

The seconds stretched into minutes as you contemplated your next move. The desire for confrontation warred with the awareness that once you stepped into the world Dwight had kept hidden from you, there would be no going back. The flames of anger fueled your decision, and with a deep breath, you stepped out of the car, your eyes focused on the battle field ahead.

Your heartbeat echoed in your ears. Each step you took meant facing the piece of the puzzle that had been kept hidden from you. The heavy weight of treason on your shoulders and pain and rage fueled your mind.

Finally, you reached the door that seemed to hold the answers you sought. The muffled sounds from within hinted at a world you had been excluded from. Your hand trembled as you reached for the piece of wood, and with a deep breath, you knocked at the door, waiting for the revelation.

The door creaked open, revealing a woman with a warm smile on her face. She was oblivious to the fury that raged within you. Her innocence seemed to contrast sharply with the treason that broke your ego. The smile faltered slightly as she took in the tear-streaked face and red eyes.

"Hi there, can I help you?" she asked, her tone friendly but tinged with concern.

Your eyes scanned her face with astonishment and disbelief. How could she be so unaware of the man she was with? Your gaze shifted, and that's when you saw the little girl, no more than four years old, happily playing in the living room.

The contrast hit you like a ton of bricks. The image of Dwight playing the role of a loving father to this child felt like a betrayal on a whole new level, taking you to the very exact moment he stopped playing with Tara, the moment he stopped acting like a father to her. You struggled to find words; your voice was caught in the turmoil of emotions.

"I... I need to talk to Dwight," you managed to say, your voice raw and trembling.

The woman's smile faded, replaced by a look of confusion. "Dwight? You must be mistaken. There's no one here by that name."

Your heart skipped a beat. Could you have been wrong? Was this not the place you thought it was? Doubt crept in, but then you heard a familiar voice from within the house, calling the little girl's name.

"Daddy!"

Your breath caught in your throat as Dwight appeared in the doorway, his expression shifting from surprise to shock at the sight of you standing there.

"What are you doing here?" he stammered, his attempt at feigning innocence falling apart.

The reality unfolded before you, and the pieces of the puzzle finally clicked into place. The woman beside him, the child, the house—it was all part of a life Dwight had been living behind your back. Your hands clenched into fists as anger and hurt surged through you.

"Who is she, Dwight?" you demanded, your voice a mixture of pain and anger.

He hesitated for a moment; the guilt was written all over his face. The woman beside him looked from you to Dwight, realization dawning on her.

"Daddy, who is she?" the little girl asked, confusion in her innocent eyes.

Dwight stammered, struggling to find words that could undo the mess he had created. The silence hung heavy in the air, broken only by the distant sounds of the little girl's toys.

“Elisa, please take Emma to her room,” Dwight said for the first time.

The woman, apparently named Elisa, took a step back, her eyes flickering between you and Dwight. She gently guided the little girl, Emma, away, leaving you and Dwight in a charged atmosphere.

The weight of the betrayal settled over the room, and you couldn't hold back the torrent of emotions any longer. Your gaze bore into Dwight's, demanding an explanation that might never suffice.

"What is this, Dwight?" you questioned, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and heartbreak. "How long has this been going on?"

Dwight avoided eye contact; his guilt was evident. "It's complicated," he muttered, a feeble attempt to justify his actions.

"Complicated?" you scoffed, bitterness tainting your words. "So, you accidentally had a daughter with another woman?”

“I can explain,” he said, reaching for you, but you stepped back.

“You made Tara and I move here because you wanted to be with her, didn’t you?” The realization hit you like a punch to the gut, and anger surged through your veins.

“I thought it was the best for us and for you,” he stammered, his excuses sounding feeble and hollow.

“For us? Or for you and your secret family?” Your voice rose, a mix of betrayal and anger coloring your words.

Dwight’s eyes darted from you to the ground, realizing the depth of the mess he had created. The room felt heavy with the weight of shattered trust and broken promises.

When no more words came from his lips, you turned to leave. Dwight's desperate plea echoed in the background. "Please, let me explain."

“I don’t want your damn explanations, Dwight. I want a divorce.”

As the weight of your decision hung in the air, Dwight's face contorted with a mix of desperation and regret. The word "divorce" hit him like a cold, hard truth, a consequence of the choices he had made. The room seemed to close in around him as he grappled with the reality of losing the life he had taken for granted.

He grabbed you by the arm with such force that it almost fell from your shoulder, stopping you from getting into the car.

“Love, please, let's talk about this. We can work things out," Dwight pleaded, his voice a desperate attempt to salvage the unraveling threads of your marriage.

You pulled your arm away, resentment etched on your face. "There's nothing left to talk about, Dwight. You made your choices, and now I'm making mine. There’s no way I’m staying with you after this.”

But for him, this couldn’t be the end; this couldn’t be the end that his so-perfect family on the outside was done.

“This just suits you well, right?” He asked, with a bitter taste on his tongue, “Now you will run to Joel.”

Your jaw clenched at Dwight's accusation. The bitterness in his words stung, but you knew that responding with anger would only prolong the pain and the fury rustling your bones. With a heavy sigh, you looked at him.

"This has nothing to do with Joel," you stated firmly, your voice devoid of the emotions that churned within. "This is about us, about what you did. I won't stay in a marriage built on lies."

“Oh, but it was made of lies!” he exclaimed, now fury corroding him. “Do you think it didn’t hurt me to now you would never love me the way you loved him”

Your patience was wearing thin, and Dwight's attempts to deflect blame onto Joel only fueled your frustration. "Stop trying to shift the blame, Dwight," you retorted, your voice sharp. "This is about your choices, not Joel. Our marriage was broken long before Joel came back into the picture."

You started the car, determined to put distance between yourself and the wreckage of your marriage, from Dwight and his venom, and as you drove away, the weight of the truth settled on your shoulders, and the road ahead seemed both daunting and full of uncertainties.

“Hey, why aren’t you coming back to work?”

2:30 p.m

“Come on, Doe where are you?”

2:35 p.m

“Doe, seriously I’m getting worried.”

2:45 p.m

“If you don’t come back, I’m coming to your house.”

3:00 p.m

Oh Joel, sweet Joel, you thought as his messages popping up on your screen, yet you didn’t answer, not finding the strength to even take your phone a put effort on making up a lie.  You wanted distance, silence and peace.

You were sitting on the couch, looking around your house, and it felt so cold to be on your own, alone, humiliated and sad. Your tears had almost run out, your face felt tainted with the salty taste of your own sadness.

You knew you weren’t innocent. You had been taunted with the could’ve been with Joel, with a flame that tainted your life with a dark blue because there will never going to be something like that, someone like him.

 Back when you found yourself with your back against the wall, kissing the lips of Dwight, your wound was open and you allowed the fire sparks enter to your, blind hoping for the care of a man again, you allow the hollow eyes of Dwight find yours in that desperate need for something.

But after time, those eyes didn’t look at you with love, there was no spark or adoration on them just the used of company, and you killed each other by no loving each other enough.

But now, you felt lifeless and ashamed of what you had chose for yourself. Honesty felt so cruel because was tearing you apart, and it felt particularly cruel because it was a reminder of how you were never enough to anybody.

"Mom, what happened? Why are you crying?" Tara asked when she stepped into the house, coming back from school.

You didn’t even notice the sound of the door being closed, just the touch of your concerned daughter touching your shoulder as a source of comfort.

You tried to compose yourself, wiping away the tears that had escaped. "It's nothing, sweetheart. Just a tough day."

Tara, ever perceptive, wasn't easily convinced. She approached you, her eyes searching yours for an honest answer. "Mom, I know something's wrong. You can talk to me."

The vulnerability in Tara's voice tugged at your heart, and you realized that keeping everything bottled up was affecting not only you but your daughter as well. The cruel truth was going to see the light of the day, but you weren’t going to be the one taking responsibility for Dwight’s actions. Taking a deep breath, you look at Tara, inviting her to sit next to you.

"It's about your father and me," you began, choosing your words carefully. “I’m divorcing your father.”

Tara's eyes widened, a mix of shock and sadness flickering across her face. “What? Why?”

You sighed, grappling with the difficulty of explaining the complexities of adult relationships to your daughter. "Sometimes, adults face challenges, and they make choices that hurt others. Your father and I have reached a point where we need to go our separate ways."

Tara's gaze remained fixed on you, absorbing the weight of your words, and before she could say something, the sound of the door opening made you turn your attention, and there stood Dwight, his face desperate and fearing the worst once he took the image in front of him. The tears on your face and Tara’s expression.

"Why are you telling her?" Dwight burst out, his voice edged with anger. "She's just a kid!"

You shot him a stern look, defending your decision. "She deserves to know the truth, Dwight. It's not fair to keep her in the dark about what's happening in our family."

Tara looked between the two of you, her eyes wide with confusion and concern. "Dad, what's going on?"

Dwight's frustration escalated, and he glared at you. "You're poisoning her mind against me, making me the villain in this."

Tara's expression morphed into sadness and disappointment as she looked at her father. "Dad, just tell me the truth. What's happening?"

Dwight hesitated, realizing that the truth was inevitable. "We're having some problems, Tara. Your mom and I are trying to figure things out."

“Stop lying and act like a fucking man!” You exclaimed, frustrated by this situation. “I’ll go upstairs, and when I came back here, you must have told her the truth.” Your determination changed something in Dwight’s expression.

You went upstairs, leaving Dwight and Tara alone in the living room. The weight of the situation lingered in the air as you ascended the staircase, knowing that the inevitable truth would surface. Tara was going to suffer, and Dwight had to face the consequences of his actions and confront the reality of his choices.

As you reached the top of the stairs, you couldn't help but sob. There was anger and fury rustling your emotions. But amidst it all, there was concern for Tara; you had to be strong for her and act as an adult.

While you took a moment to collect yourself in your room, downstairs, Tara pressed Dwight for answers, her young eyes searching for clarity in the chaos.

"Dad, what's really going on?" Tara asked with urgency in her voice.

Dwight, cornered by the truth, took a deep breath before responding, "Your mom and I have been having problems for a while. We're trying to figure things out, but she is making it complicated."

Tara frowned, sensing the weight of his father’s lies. For her, you were a victim of a bad love story. "Is it because of another woman?"

Dwight hesitated, his eyes avoiding direct contact with Tara's gaze. "It's more complicated than that."

“What could it be more complicated than cheating on my mom?” She questioned, raising her eyebrows. "You're trash, dad. How could you do this to Mom? To us?" she demanded, her eyes filled with a maturity that exceeded her thirteen years old.

"I messed up, Tara," Dwight admitted, his voice carrying the weight of regret. "I made some wrong choices.”

Tara's expression hardened with evident disappointment. "I can't believe you would do this to her.”

"Tara,” he whispered, but she had already left the living room.

The tension seemed to be haunting the entire house; a breathing, tainted air of unfaithful lies suffocated you, passing back and forth inside the room, fitting all the pain inside.

Dwight retreated to the bedroom without closing the door behind him. You took some distance from him, creating an emotional barrier between you and your soon-to-be ex-husband.

You were there by the door, like you were just a kid facing the anger of a mad father.

“I suppose you’re happy with what you caused." Dwight spitted, turning the blame on you: “Tara calls me trash, trash! I’m his father, for fuck’s sake.”

“Perhaps she saw the truth behind your pretty face.” Your voice, so insensitive yet fueled by disappointment, threatened to cause a fire with each word you threw against him. “I can’t believe you’re blaming me for what you did.”

Dwight, torn between guilt and the remnants of his wounded pride, attempted to justify his actions. "It's not that simple, okay? Things have been complicated, and I made mistakes."

“Having a daughter with another woman and having a secret family is not a mistake but a choice,” you shot back, your patience wearing thin.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I never meant for it to get this far. It just happened."

“What would your little girl say if she could hear you calling her a mistake, Dwight?” anger bubbling within you."

His expression shifted from defensiveness to frustration. "I get it, okay? I messed up, but you don't have to make this any more difficult than it already is."

"You've shattered our family, Dwight. Tara deserves better than this." As always, you were putting your daughter before yourself.

“She does, but you don't,” he shot back. “You never loved me. How do you think I felt all this time when I woke up to you looking at pictures from your past, from your lover?” Dwight's frustration escalated, and he paced around the room, his hands running through his hair in a display of exasperation. "You never loved me. You were always stuck in the past. How do you think that made me feel?"

Your jaw clenched, and your eyes narrowed at Dwight's attempt to turn the tables on you. "This is not about me and Joel! I didn’t see you until that day Tara got that problem at school.”

“I don’t care! I got tired of you, and I found a woman who cared about me.”

"What I even was to you, Dwight?" You questioned, and your voice broke at the hurt and the feeling of being a small kid being threatened. The room, still echoing with the remnants of the heated argument, seemed to punish you.

Dwight's face contorted with a combination of emotions, from defensiveness to guilt, and a lingering pride that fueled his attempts to justify his actions. "You were supposed to be my wife, the mother of my child. But all you cared about was your past and that guy, and I was the man you found a way to fill that void inside you."

"Then why are you here?" you asked, the pain and confusion evident in your voice. The room felt like a battleground of dirty, shattered lies and promises.

Dwight hesitated, a fleeting moment of uncertainty crossing his face. "I thought I could have both. I thought I could keep you and have this other life."

Your incredulous gaze met his, who stood silently, looking at you for some answer, perhaps a beg.

"You can't have it all, Dwight," you asserted, your tone firm. "Life doesn't work that way. Choices have consequences."

Then there was silence, and silence is the most devasting sound when you can’t repair the damage. There was no need for more words, not more fights.

“I’ll stay in this house until I find a place to stay, then you can come and live with your new wife and daughter.”

You made a move to leave the room, to find solace elsewhere, away from the chaos Dwight had unleashed upon your lives.

But Dwight, desperate and unwilling to accept the consequences, blocked your path. "You're not going anywhere. We need to talk about this."

Frustration boiled within you again, and you pushed against Dwight's attempt to keep you in the room. "It’s over, Dwight.”

“You’re my wife,” he said, tightening his grip on your arm with such anger in his eyes. "You can't just walk away. We're married, damn it!"

Your eyes flashed with a mixture of anger and fear. "Marriage is built on trust, Dwight, and you shattered that trust. You made your choices, and now you have to live with the consequences."

The struggle for dominance continued, both emotionally and physically, as Dwight refused to release his hold on you. In that moment, the facade of the once-happy family crumbled, revealing the ugly truth beneath.

You closed your eyes in instinct, waiting for the hard touch of his hand on your face, but all you felt was the loosening of Dwight’s strong grip on your arm, and when you opened your eyes again, there was Joel between you and the man who had caused so much pain. There was an unspoken anger in Joel’s eyes; he would not stand by and let anyone harm you.

"If you ever think of it, put a finger on her, and I will smack your face," Joel warned, his voice firm.

Dwight laughed at Joel’s attitude, finding it both amusing and offensive. “Do you really think I was going to hurt her?”

Joel's jaw tightened at Dwight's dismissive laughter. The air in the room crackled with tension, and the weight of the betrayal you had just experienced hung heavy in the atmosphere.

"I've seen enough to know you're capable of causing harm," Joel retorted, his voice laced with restrained anger. The lines were etched on his face.

“Are you going to say something?” Dwight asked towards you, ignoring Joel.

You took a deep breath, your eyes meeting Dwight's with hurt. "It's over, Dwight. There's nothing more to say. We're done."

Dwight's face contorted with a mix of frustration and regret. He seemed to be torn between attempting to salvage what was left and accepting the consequences of his actions.

Joel, still standing protectively in front of you, spoke up with a calm yet firm tone. "She's made her decision. Leave.”

Dwight, feeling the weight of defeat, left the room with a resentful glance, muttering under his breath. "Enjoy it while you can. The only reason I’m behaving is because Tara is the house.”

Joel's jaw clenched, and a flicker of anger danced in his eyes, but he held his composure. He didn't want to escalate the situation further. Instead, he focused on you.

Once Dwight left the bedroom, your only thought was Tara. “Where is Tara?” You asked mostly to yourself than Joel.

"Relax; she is in my truck. She is fine,” he assured, gently stroking his thumbs on your shoulders.

Joel's reassuring words offered a momentary comfort. The weight of the newfound truth was heavily on your shoulders, and your concern for Tara fueled your urgency.

"Why are you here?" you asked, this time finding Joel's gaze.

He sighed, the weight of the situation evident in his eyes. "I came here because you didn't answer my messages or calls. I was worried about you, Doe. Something felt off."

Gratitude and regret were displayed on your face as the events of the day settled in. "I didn't want to involve you in this mess."

Joel shook his head, his expression softening. "Doe, what happened?”

But instead of words, a sob escaped from your lips. Finding solace in Joel’s presence made your feelings overwhelm you. Joel pulled you into a comforting embrace, allowing the tears to flow freely.

“Dwight was cheating on me, Joel. He had another family,” you mumbled on his shoulder. The crumbling of your marriage and the betrayal you experienced all poured out in that moment.

"I'm here for you, Doe," Joel whispered, his voice a soothing presence in the midst of chaos. "You don't have to face this alone."

As the sobs subsided, you pulled away, wiping away the tears, and your gazes connected.

Joel's gaze held a mixture of concern and empathy. He brushed a strand of hair away from your face; his touch was gentle and reassuring. "I'm so sorry you're going through this, Doe. You don't deserve any of it."

The vulnerability in that moment deepened the connection between you and Joel. Despite the years that had passed, the emotional intimacy you once shared resurfaced. His thumb traced a soft pattern on your cheek.

“I don’t want to sleep here,” you roared, hugging Joel tightly.

“You won't,” he said, kissing your temple. “You and Tara can stay with me tonight.”

Joel held you in his arms, offering the missing warmth from your life, feeling like a roof in the middle of a storm. The weight of the pain and betrayal you had just experienced slowly eased as he whispered reassurances. "You won't have to go through this alone, Doe. I'm here for you, whatever you need."

It was almost summer; holidays were coming, and you felt brave enough to make confessions of love. There was a guy from school, and you were convinced that he reciprocated your feelings. The anticipation of young love and the butterflies in your stomach didn’t lie. As you mustered the courage to confess your feelings, reality unfolded in a way you hadn't expected.

That guy made fun of you in front of everyone, leaving you with shame.

In the quiet corner of the park, where Joel and you often hang out, you poured your heart out to Joel. The guy you liked had not only rejected your feelings but did so in a cruel manner, making a public spectacle of them.

By this time, both of you were sixteen, and Joel felt the weight of your pain. Although he had been secretly developing feelings for you, his priority was to shield you from unnecessary hurt. In that moment of heartbreak, he became your protector.

With a protective arm around your shoulders, Joel offered a comforting presence, his own heart silently breaking at the sight of your tears. He didn't utter words of love, not wanting to complicate an already painful situation, but his actions spoke louder. Joel stood between you and the judgmental eyes of your peers, ensuring that you wouldn't face the humiliation alone.

"You deserve someone who sees how amazing you are, Doe. That guy doesn't know what he's missing."

It’s me who can see through you.

The evening settled into a quiet calmness as the memories of the tumultuous day began to fade. The soft glow of dim lights in Joel's house created a comforting atmosphere, providing solace in the midst of the storm.

Joel, always caring for your emotions, approached you gently. "Sarah and Tara fell asleep," he informed, his voice a soothing murmur. "Do you want to share a glass of wine? It might help ease the weight of the day."

You nodded, appreciating the offer of a small respite. Following Joel to the cozy living room, you found solace in the warm ambiance of a place that felt like home. The flickering candles cast dancing shadows on the walls, creating a sense of intimacy that contrasted with the chaos you brought with you.

As Joel poured the wine, you couldn't help but reflect on the unexpected turn your life had taken. The comfort of friendship, which had evolved into something deeper again, provided a steady anchor in the storm. Joel handed you a glass, his eyes reflecting concern for you.

"To resilience," he proposed, raising his glass in a silent toast.

You reciprocated, clinking the glasses with a small smile on your face. The velvety red wine offered a taste of familiarity, a reminder that amidst the chaos, there were still constants in your life.

"It's funny how life works, isn't it? That we found each other again." You began, breaking the silence.

Joel nodded, his gaze unwavering. "I never stopped caring about you, Doe. Even when we were apart, there was always this connection that transcended time and distance. I guess our bond is meant to be."

As you shared the stories of your personal lives without each other for the last few years, the unspoken truth lingered in the air—the bond between you and Joel was more than the forceful friendship you were trying to recover; there was something else still taunting the beating of your hearts when you were together. It was a connection that had weathered the storms of life—an invisible thread woven your paths together.

"You were there for me, and I didn’t fight for you that night,” Joel admitted, his voice carrying the weight of his regret. "And, truth be told, I never really got over you."

The weight of Joel's confession hung in the air. He had already told you that he still loved you, but this time, his admission felt personal, opening a door to a realm of emotions that had long been kept at bay.

You looked into Joel's eyes, a mixture of surprise and realization flickering in your gaze. The atmosphere seemed to shift, the quiet acknowledgment of a shared history merging with the present.

Perhaps a second chance.

There you were, after years of the night you left the house, you both shared the confession of love you waited to hear the most—the regret and the sadness. In the soft glow of candlelight, Joel's expression mirrored the vulnerability you felt. The unspoken emotions hung between you, bridging the gap of time and space that had kept your hearts apart. The weight of his words lingered, unraveling the layers of history and emotions that had shaped your lives.

"I always wondered what could have been," Joel admitted, his gaze unwavering.

As the weight of unspoken confessions hung in the air, you felt a surge of emotions pushing you to bridge the gap that had separated you and Joel for so long. The vulnerability of the moment, the shared history, and the admission of lingering feelings created a magnetic pull you couldn’t ignore.

With no rings and no faithful promises to keep with another man, you felt free.

Leaning in, you found yourself drawn to Joel, a longing that transcended the years apart. The soft glow of candlelight flickered in the room, casting a warm ambiance on the faces of two souls entwined and meant to be together again.

As you looked at him, you got lost in the dark starry universe his gaze held, the stars and constellations written the words he didn’t say to you in the past, and without a warning, you leaned in, but for your surprise and also shame, Joel pulled back, eyes wide, mouth open.

Oh.

“Oh god,” you said, holding your tears and face behind your sacred palms, hiding from the cruel joke you felt toward the world today.

"I can't, Doe," Joel whispered, his voice carrying a sense of restraint. His gaze, though filled with a depth of emotion, conveyed a silent plea for understanding.

Confusion and a tinge of hurt flickered in your eyes as you retreated, the space between you now feeling deeper than ever before.

"I understand," you murmured, a faint smile attempting to mask the disappointment that lingered beneath the surface.

Joel watched you, his heart heavy with a mix of regret and a profound desire to ease the pain that etched your features. But Joel wanted to kiss you and worship every single inch of you, but he wasn’t able to give in under your state, yet he was so vulnerable, and a deep ache settled in his chest. He wanted to be the solace you needed, but the weight of the moment and the chaos of the day made him hesitate.

He didn’t want to take advantage of you.

"I want to be there for you, Doe," Joel said softly, reaching out to gently touch your shoulder. "But not like this. You deserve more than a rushed moment in the midst of all this chaos."

His words carried a sincerity that echoed in the quiet room. Joel had waited years to express his feelings, and now, with the universe conspiring against both of you, the timing felt painfully wrong.

You lowered your hands, meeting Joel's gaze with a mixture of gratitude and a silent acknowledgment of the complexities that surrounded you. The connection you shared held a delicate balance.

“I’ll go to sleep,” you said, feeling the exhaustion that permeated every fiber of your being. The weight of the day, the end of your marriage, and the nice words of Joel.

“Goodnight, Doe," Joel said, his voice a soothing presence.

You nodded and said, "Goodnight, Joel.”

++++

Upstairs, unbeknownst to you and Joel, Sara and Tara huddled together, peeking from upstairs, watching the scene unfold in the living room. The girls exchanged concerned glances, sensing the gravity of the situation.

"Dad is such an idiot," Sarah whispered to Tara, her young eyes wide with frustration.

Tara nodded in agreement, her own eyes reflecting on the events of today.

Sarah leaned in closer, her mind buzzing with an idea. "We should do something to help your mom and my dad be together again.”

Tara's eyes lit up with curiosity. "Like what?"

A mischievous grin formed on Sara's face. "We'll be matchmakers! We'll get them together. They obviously still love each other, and it's about time someone did something."

Tara hesitated, glancing back at the living room, where you had just retreated. "But won't your dad be mad?"

Sara shook her head. "Of course not; he would have his girl back."

tags 💌: @joeldjarin @missladym1981 @yomiyasxx @aliengirl99

@lola8888673 @nottodaysattan @picketniffler @violinchick

@sadgirlcheesecake @caitlynsixxx @luvwanda @sarahhxx03

[jjeongddol]

Can't you see me? I'm right here, Angel.

Now playing - Die With A Smile

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Jeonghan x Reader

- "I'll always find my way back to you, my love."

This chapter comes before part 2! It took me a long time to be content with this part and now I finally have the courage to. Please let me know your thoughts on this small series so that I can better my future writings 🫶🏼

part I | jeonghan's pov | part II

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Once he settled into his sleep shorts and an oversized shirt — dragging his aching body towards the bed that you were occupying. She was nestled in the fluffy sheets that temporarily kept her body warm every night when I'm not there yet.

Is she not asleep?

I could see how heavy each of her breaths were. How her small figure rapidly widens before stilling and letting out the quietest sigh. Then it clicked.

She's crying.

Feeling panic rushed over me— I tried my best to steady myself and not jolt her from the trance of her comfort bubble. Gently lifting up the comforter as I sank into the mattress.

I see her body still completely. Trying her best to hold in her sobs. The sight made me feel like my heart was stabbed repeatedly.

She's like this because of me.

I quietly settled on my side of the bed— the mattress was cold when it hit my skin. No sense of warmth and comfort. What's happening to us, angel?

Placing a hand under my cheek as I rested my head atop it. Patiently waiting for her to turn towards me— not wanting to intrude her space.

I glided my palms along her back, gently rubbing her skin to ease her overbearing emotions a little.

As I continued my admission, I found myself zoning out to the space between our bodies.

—

I remembered that one particular night. The rainfall became more intense as the night passes through, both our bodies snuggling closer to seek for warmth and solace through this chilly night.

My arms wrapped around her figure. Her head leaning back on my chest as her small palms softly held onto my arm that she was resting her head on, bringing it closer to her face.

Not long after, her body turned, facing my direction. In the midst of the dark bedroom— there's a clear look of longing evident in her pleading eyes.

Gosh, i'm so sorry baby...

—

Each night, we're both lying close to one another, legs tangled and arms wrapped around our sorrowful bodies. The moonlight creeping throught the bedroom windows kept us up in a quiet accompany. No one spoke a word, just merely cherishing the moments while it lasted. Nothing helped that we were both drowned out by our own doubts.

—

"Han," a long eerie silence followed before she spoke again. Her hand tracing along my chest as she zoned out into the space infront of her, "Is there someone else?"

How did those words slip out of her mouth so easily?

My fingers that were running aimlessly on her back stilled, so did the rest of my body. All i could do was stare at her face under my furrowed brows.

Being this close to her allowed me to study her features— her little button-like nose that looks pointy with a pretty slope— if you looked at her from the side. Her long lashes that naturally curled often hid the beauty of her eyes from a viewer, her bottom lip always guts out whenever she's concentrating too much or when she's upset.

Now, looking into her eyes, it was obvious how she felt. The eyes never lies they said. All I saw was uncertainty and hope— hopes that her doubts are not true.

Without thinking, I brought my face closer to hers, leaving a lasting kiss on her forehead. The tiredness I felt earlier had left my body. I just wanted to secure her between my arms, lock her body to mine as I ensure she knows i'm still very much in love.

How can I prove my love to you, baby?

—

"Please come back," she pleaded. i didn't not like a single bit of her begs. "It hurts, it really hurts. just come back soon, okay?"

A loud painful sob bounced of the four walls. Her shaking frame curled up even more. It seemed that if she could, she would have wanted to bury herself within the mattress and hide her vulnerable self from me.

My hands reached out to her, cradling her fragile face, in hopes to warm up her dampened cheeks with my body heat, slowly and gently wiped off her tears that were showing no signs of stopping any time soon.

Planting butterfly kisses all over her face— knowing that it's a way that could comfort her, mumbling incoherent words and I love yous that I have longed to say for weeks. I poured my heart out as she continued mourning and grieving— as if I was really gone.

I was right infront of her but I had been out of reach.

Without realising, my own tears were shed. I had no power over my overwhelming emotions.

I pushed her shoulders back, so that she would be facing me, as I hovered over her. One arm supporting my weight as the other was pushing away the strands of hair that was stuck to her solemn face. Gently caressing her distressed features. Tears still springing out and her sobs becoming uncontrollable.

I hushed her as I continued the gentle kisses. "I'm right here, baby. No matter how far it seems I am, I'll always come back to you, angel," a kiss on her eyelids that were too heavy to be opened.

"I'll find my way back into your arms, baby," another on her glowing cheekbones.

"Just you," and another on her forehead.

"It'll always be you, my love." one more on her quivering lips.

[rushtoprove]

our little secret

part two: revenge

pairing: aemond targaryen x f!reader chapter: 2 rating: teen and up word count: 5k+ summary: aemond promised to take you as his wife when the time was right and you had no reason to doubt him. but when news of his engagement to cassandra baratheon is announced, and your name is left ruined by his nightly visits to your chamber, you have no choice but to flee from the shame you have brought upon your family and to run from the man you love. but not all is as it seems chapter summary: three years pass you by and you remain exiled from everyone you once held dear. when news reaches dorne that aemond is to visit the city, you must quickly find a way to seek the revenge you think you deserve. warnings: sexual references and nsfw scenes. period typical misogyny and course language. chapters: 1 / 2 notes: there has got to be an easier way to do taglists oh my lord. there has been such an insane reaction to this fic and i'm on cloud nine. i also got lots of requests on how this was going to play out and i'm very sorry if it's not how you imagined but hopefully you can still enjoy. I will definitely be posting another chapter after this but i THINK that will be it :P

It had been a long three years for you. Overwhelmed by heartbreak and despair, and barely breathing from bitterness and rage, this time had passed in a tidal wave of emotion. You had spent many nights weeping for Aemond Targaryen while crying out for you family and your home. You missed the gentleness of his touch, and the grip he held on to you in your long nights of passion. You craved how low his voice was when he whispered his poetic words, and the laugh he swore he only shared with you. Desperate for the feeling of your mother’s embrace and missing the way your brother would walk you around the grounds every morning, you thought you might die from your depression. You missed it all.

You sent letter upon letter to your family, imploring them to allow you home, and to see reason. You begged them to accept your deepest apologies, but not one was returned. You found yourself alone and abandoned in Dorne, a city you grew up to believe it was nothing more than debauchery and sin wherever you turned. For the first four months of your banishment, you refused to leave your room. You hardly ate the food that was delivered by your handmaiden, and your curtains were never pulled back. The days passed you by, but you did not know, for you were curled up beneath your blankets, praying to wake up from this nightmare. You were lucky, your banishment ended with you being a guest in Sunspear, the castle that home the noble House Martell. You could have been banished to the streets of silk or left to rot in the gutters of the Stormlands, but instead you were homed with the ruling lords of Dorne.

After a year of wondering around in a cloud of misery and despair, something inside you broke. Quickly you found yourself cursing the cruel prince for the way he had led you to believe his lies. How could you have been so foolish to believe a prince would consider taking you as a wife. You allowed him to keep you in a daze, submissive to his needs in a desperate belief that you would have your fairy tale ending. Suddenly you found yourself enraged by the memory of your controlling family who never once seemed to care for your needs. You do not remember a day in your whole life that your father had ever asked how you fair. Nor do you recall your mother ever standing up for you when your father would push you into the sights of old, savage and vulgar men for courting. Your brother was still young enough to be kind when needed but give a few years and he would be sure to follow in his father’s shadow.

Slowly your overwhelming desire to be with those you loved, turned into a desperate need for revenge. It kept you up at night. Your mind conjured up different ways to take the vengeance you so desperately craved but nothing seemed to hit the way you wanted. You knew it was not as serious as to murder, nor was it something you would even be able to stomach. You thought of sending more letter’s, declaring your hatred and resentment for all those who wronged you, but it was not enough. You didn’t know what you would do, but you were sure it would be something magnificent.

It was Prince Maron Martell, that came to you with a solution.

It was he, who ventured to your rooms every day, willing you to leave your darkened chambers, and it was he who succeeded in bringing you out into his father’s court. The way he spoke so freely, and acted so carelessly, brought you nothing but jealousy. You despised that it be so easy for a man to act immoral, to drink and fuck and sleep, and there be no consequence. No banishment. You were shamed for enjoying even the simplest of pleasures.

After one-to-many wine’s you allowed yourself to confess this.

“You are in Dorne little lady. We do not care for that judgement here. Pleasure and satisfaction are natural for the human body. Who are we to stop anyone from reaching true euphoria? If I do not care, and that woman under the arch over there does not care, nor does that boy behind the fountain care, why do you care so much?” You didn’t understand at first. The idea that pleasure was not to be hidden. You had spent so long hiding behind the closed doors of Aemond’s chamber, both trying to hide the sounds that your bodies desperately wished to make. You could not be seen making any advances in the eye of the court, nor could you allow the risk of anyone catching glimpses of small touches even in the darkest of corners. You had spent so long on edge, ashamed and frightened of what would happen if you were ever caught in the prince’s arms. It was immoral for a woman to partake in such activities for her own enjoyment, worst yet an unmarried one.

“I do not get the same freedom you do Maron. Women in this world are born to be caged. I am caged by my father. I shall be caged by my brother. My husband will likely close me up in the smallest cage of all. I shall never know freedom and I was a reckless whore for allowing myself to succumb to such depravity. Look where it got me.” You huffed at his care-free attitude as you swung a deeper gulp from your wine. You were already flushed from the scorching heat of the Dornish sun but sitting beneath it for a picnic with jugs upon jugs of wine was a terrible idea and you thought your face would melt then and there.

“Such harsh words from my favourite little lady. You are much too hard on yourself. Also I have sent many Dornish dresses to your room girl. You need to wear them. Your Westeros dresses are much too thick, I fear you shall pass out any second.”

“I cannot. It would be improper.” You let out a nervous laugh as you thought of the sheer dresses hanging in your cupboard. The way it felt as if you hardly wore anything. The materiel was too light, and you felt more exposed than you ever felt. Even if it did allow the wind to cool your temperature and the air allowed your skin to breathe, you could not think of the scandal it would create if your father found out.

Then one day, you did not care.

You found yourself gliding through the palace in the dresses with such ease you could not understand the trepidation you had to start with. Soon you became a frequent guest at the scandalous parties Prince Maron would hold every full moon and you finally allowed yourself to succumb to the pleasure and freedom that Dorne offered. You concerned yourself less and less for your appearance, your family name and instead you found yourself liberated. You had never felt so light and blissful. Without the watchful eyes of the courtiers and family members, and without the overwhelming need to please Aemond Targaryen, you were released from your misery.

Your awakening had been almost two years of uninterrupted freedom. But one day, it was ruined.

“Your past lover and his prudish family are coming to visit.” The words fell from Prince Maron’s lips so casually you could have almost missed it. But the strawberry you were about to draw to yours was quickly tossed down in shock.

“Pray tell… what do you mean?” Your heart raced as you felt your body still. As if a single move could destroy everything that you had built up. Memory upon memory of your once true love flashed through your mind making your heart ache punishingly hard. For a second you thought you might be experiencing a heart attack.

"The Targaryen's.” His hand quickly shot out and he brought your abandoned fruit to his lips with a smirk. He loved to frustrate you during your friendship, and it irritated you to no ends. With a deep breath and some calming words in your mind, you felt yourself recline in your seat and stare. You would not allow your past to disrupt everything you had built for yourself.

“Why do they come? Kings Landing hates Dorne. The Targaryen’s hate Dorne. Dorne hates Kings Landing. The Martell’s hate Kings Landing.” Maron hissed out in agreement before laughing at your declaration.

“Ah yes, I do hate those fucking Targaryen’s and Kings Landing, and you want to know something? I hate Aemond Targaryen most of all. Have I ever told you that?” You frowned at his confession. He had not mentioned this even after you had spent months weeping in his arms over everything Aemond had put you through. Although it still morning, you found yourself reaching for the wine to continue this conversation.

“I did not know you were acquainted.”

“Not long before you arrived here, our family welcomed Prince Aemond for a week. He was on some diplomatic mission or some fuckery. He was a miserable cunt, and everyone believed him to be arrogant and rude, but my sister Nymeria…” Taking in a deep breath, Marion flattened his hands and looked sadly down to his plate with the familiar distance in his eyes that always flooded him when he mentioned Nymeria. “Nymeria became besotted. In only a week she declared he was the love of her life. Begged us to let her wed him.” It was as if Marion had reached his fingers inside her chest, just to clutch your heart and squeeze it with a formidable force.

“Aemond seems to have that affect.” You looked away, desperately trying to fight the jealousy that coursed through your veins. It should be no surprise that Aemond was courting yet another woman during your time with him. You tried hard not to think about how many more there could have been.

“Yes. My little sister, my sweet little sister, was absolutely infatuated. So much so that she declared it for him. I remember how nervous she was, how hard she paced as she planned what she would say. They walked around the gardens for hours, and everyone thought it must have worked and that Nymeria would come back Princess of Westeros. But the miserable cunt turned her down. Flew away on his dragon and left her heart broken. Just like you, I spent my days bundling her up in my arms trying to soothe her cries. Aemond had told her he could not marry her for he was promised to another and not two months later, the news of his engagement to Cassandra Baratheon was announced.” You flinched at the name while pursing your lips to try and hide the way you were willing yourself not to cry. The thought of Aemond with his wife was already something you battled before sleep every night, you did not need the image during the day.

“Did he…” You don’t know why you asked because you were sure the answer would bring you nothing but more pain, and gods, you were over pain.

“Did he have her? She said no. You know those men like to keep their wife until marriage. I shall never know the truth.” He had not waited to have you. He did not plan to wed you.

“Perhaps he has a need, a pride, to break young girls' hearts. Perhaps it darkens his already black heart.” You twirled your finger upon the rim of the goblet you drank from while Prince Marion pondered upon your words.

“Perhaps. Or perhaps he is so careless he simply does not think of what is at stake to those around him. Only a few days after the news of his betrothal Nymeria was taken by a fever. I do not blame him for her sickness. But I will not have him parading around with his family proudly within our walls while my sister spent her dying moments wasting her tears on him. I wish to seek revenge for my sister… and I know you want your own form of retribution from the young prince.” Meeting his eye, you noticed the gleam of excitement. You could not lie; you were interested in what he had in mind.

“Hmmm.” You leaned on your elbow upon the table and allowed your chin to rest upon your palm as your amusement overtook your heartache.

“Wed me.” You could not contain the laugh the passed through your smirking lips.

“Wed you?”

“Yes. Wed me.”

“It may have escaped you, but I'm not your usual type.” He cackled at your words, knowing full well that he was attracted to his squires and court men and could not imagine being intimate with a woman. As dear as you were to him.

“Obviously my little lady. But just while he is here. We announce our engagement and partake in activities with a united front. Your ghosts need not know the truth. Let them think you are to wed me. Your family is within the royal party and shall be attending as well. Let your family think you are to marry into the greatest house in Westeros. And let the fickle little prince think his lover has been taken by a much prettier, stronger prince.” You were both laughing, but you knew the fatal flaw in his grand plan.

“Aemond cares not for me. I was just another body to warm his bed, and he left me discarded without a second thought. He will not care that you have me. Hells, he will likely not remember me at all.” The truth left you disheartened, but Marion only laughed harder.

“Those bastards from your little city are all the same. A man like Aemond will always consider you, his property. He has you once and in his mind no one else can have you again. I will never understand the greed and selfishness of your people. The ownership you all feel over your pleasure. Aemond shall know you, and he shall definitely care when he sees you by my side. Trust me.” You let your mind take over as you pondered on his proposition. If Aemond and your family were to arrive, you would have no choice but to see them during the dinners and banquets and the gloom that lingered over you at the mere thought sent a shiver racing down your spine. But the idea of your family having to bow as you took your position beside Prince Marion, and the thought of Aemond’s shocked gaze as you wrap a loving arm around your betrothed made the dark future a little brighter.

It was not murder. Nor was it letters. But you considered this the perfect revenge for those who wronged you.

+++

You did not go and greet the royal party upon their arrival. The Martell’s simply apologised that Prince Marion’s future wife could not make it. No one spared a second thought. Tonight, however, Marion was holding a masked ball in honour of the honoured guests. You knew now that it was the time to creep out from the shadows you had been banished to. Embarrassingly enough, however, a small part of you still found yourself waiting for a knock at your door as you readied yourself for the grand banquet. You don’t know if you wanted Aemond or your family to be behind it and you would never know, for they never came.

The nerves got the better of you, and you ended up an hour late to the festivities. Sneaking through a side door, you managed to enter without being seen and quickly blended into the hall full of masked figures. Fire twirlers and dancers hanging from silk upon the roof entertained the already drunken crowd, leaving no one to pay attention to your late arrival. The hall was deafeningly loud, with the music and the laughter battling one another. The atmosphere reeked of wine and food and the hall was humid from the fire and the dancing bodies. A banquet in Kings Landing would never be this exciting.

“Hello beautiful.” You felt an arm wrap tightly around you, drawing you in and leaving you facing a drunken fool. His breath was hot, and the smell of mead was bitter to your senses, leaving you nauseated.

“Get the fuck off.” You grunted, shoving him away in anger. The cunt swore under his breath before stumbling away, off to hunt down another victim, you were sure. The moment he moved; however, your vision was cleared, and you could see who sat upon the royal table. Gods, you wished you hadn’t.

“Handsome. Aren’t they?” Someone laughed as you were caught staring up at the silver haired figures. The entire Targaryen family were shoulder to shoulder as they put on a united front against the Dornish gaze. Your glare was stuck on Aemond, who stood proudly as he gazed down at those who he probably considered beneath him. He was still as handsome as ever, with his sharp jawline and glorious Targaryen hair. His posture was still flawless, and his black leather still fit his slender body perfectly. His eye was still covered by his eye patch, and you thought back to the last time you had seen him. The way he had bowed himself to you while you slid it from his face. The lies he told you when he said he only allowed you to gaze upon what was hidden beneath. Everything he ever promised you was now nothing but lies in your mind. You hated how handsome he looked, and you hated the way your heart raced the way it used to all those years ago. You wanted to scream right then and there, but you breath was caught in your throat.

Impossible as you thought it could be, you swore that when he looked into the crowd, he found you. But it was impossible. You had imagined the way his eye had widened, and the small step forward he had taken. He could not have known it you beneath the mask you wore. There were too many people around you for him to even spot your figure in the horde. Yet, for that very moment, your world stopped. The entire hall faded, and everything went quiet as you stood, staring at your lost love. The few seconds in your mind where it was just you and him, was bliss.

You thought back to the first time you met Aemond Targaryen. Your first-time meeting happened to be your first time alone with him. Your family had been invited to live in the Red Keep alongside your father as he made his way up the hierarchy of power. You cared little for his scheming, but the idea of living in a castle was exciting enough. The idea of living in a place with such ancient libraries was even more. You spent your days huddling in different corners, sprawling lazily in the window’s light or simply sitting by the empty fireplace in the corner, devouring every book you could get your hands on.

“It’s beginning to irritate me that you are stealing all the interesting books.” He had been watching you quietly from the balcony above every time you had wondered into his spot. It was his only place he could have peace and quiet, until you came along. For some unknown reason, he did not seem to mind.

“Prince Aemond. Apologies for interrupting.” You had gasped out, reddened in shock at the sight of him. He had slowly descended towards you, like a hunter to its prey. You felt something shift inside you that very moment.

“No matter. I see you hiding around here almost all hours of the day. What is your name?”

And for two months you had spent your days hiding within the library with your prince. It started innocently enough, sharing book suggestions and discussing his philosophy studies. Sometimes you think, you can’t remember what led to you spending your night squirming beneath his devilish touch.

You cursed yourself for reliving the memories of your past and for falling back to your foolish ways so easily. Turning to the idiot who asked the question in the first place, you grunted out your reply.

“I’ve seen better.” Marching away in frustration, you practically ran to the table that held the jugs of wine. One of the servants tried to slowly pour a glass, but you simply snatched the jug and filled your goblet to the very top. Downing it quickly, you poured another. It was beyond frustrating that after everything Aemond Targaryen had done, and after all the healing you had been through, you were still reduced to a love struck fool the moment you saw him again.

No. You would not allow this.

Turning quickly on your heel, your eyes darted between the courtiers and lords, trying to find the perfect one. Even with masks, you recognised familiar faces. Jason Lannister stood happily beside some poor young girl who only barely looked of age. The young Baratheon lord who once sent a poem a day to your rooms once upon a time was standing amongst some Dornish men trying to see who could gulp down a barrel of spiced wine the quickest. The Tyrell first-born who had promised to sail you around the world way back when, lay passed out beneath one of the fire dancers' stages. It was Aemond, and the thought of what could be, that had led you to reject the advances of all these men, but looking around now, it was obvious you had made the right decision.

“My wife… please listen…” You were shoved harshly from the left, leaving you stumbling to gain composure, while a light-footed woman darted past in anger. Your body recovered, but your heart began crumbling as you watched your brother try and chase the woman who was shoving her way through the crowd.

“Go back to that flexible dancer you bastard. I can tell you were enjoying watching!” Without a second glance, your brother pushed himself further, and swept you to the side so he could chase after his wife, leaving you trying to fight the ache in your heart. Your brother, whom you had adored from the moment you were born, had been wed without anyone giving you any information. Perhaps he had children, and now you were an aunt? What else had you missed out on?

“Excuse me, my lady?” Finally tearing your eyes from the sight of your brother, you turned to see a Lord bowed before you. His brown curls tumbled down his toned shoulders and sat pretty against his white undershirt that he had taken to only wearing in this heat.

“Yes?” You frowned at him, but taking in his muscular body, and his towering height, you knew you had found the right one. You did not need to do anything for it seemed he had come to act out your desire on his own accord.

“I am Lord Cregan Stark. I was hoping I may steal you away for this dance.” His hand extended out to you, and you happily grasped on to it with a seductive laugh.

“Oh, you may.” You had taken a liking to the toned man already, and you melted as everyone brushed to the side quickly to let through his towering form. But he was too gentle. You could barely feel his touch as he guided you to the starting position of the dance, and when you began moving, he did not pull you any closer than need be.

“A Stark in Dorne? I did not think your house left the snow for anything.” You let your fingernail drag over his bicep as you spun and felt a sense of pride in the way he clenched at the sensation.

“My younger sister Sara wished to visit the court of King Viserys. I am simply her humble guard. We did not realise a visit to Kings Landing would end up being a trip to Dorne.”

“And do you like Dorne?” He pondered on your question for a moment, before sadly shaking his head.

“No. And I don’t like Kings Landing either. It is much too hot for my Winterfell raised body.” You smiled at his bluntness; happy he was truthful in your conversation. But you were given no time to reply. A brawl broke out in the centre of the hall, and you felt yourself swept back in the horde of people moving away from the violence. Screams began ringing out and soon everyone began pushing harshly against one another to escape or join in on the savagery.

“Sara!” Cregan cried out as he craned his neck to look around the hall. You pushed him arm away from your shoulder as he tried to keep you away from the commotion.

“Go and find her! I will be alright.” He looked at you for a split second, before giving you a grateful nod and pushing his way in to the centre of the circle. It seemed the brutality was only gaining more force and you found yourself being shoved around harshly, rattling your brain and leaving you breathless and dizzy.

“Marion!?” You cried out, trying your best to push your way out of the stampede of feet and arms failing around you. Just when you thought you had reached the outer circle of the fight, the crowd surged in your direction, and you felt yourself fly towards the stone floor beneath you. You cried out in fear and threw your hands forward, bracing yourself from an impact that never came.

“There you are sweetheart. Sorry I’m late, I was looking everywhere for you.”

You could have cried. The familiar safety of his arms wrapping around your body almost broke you then and there. The voice that haunted your dreams was so smooth, you forgot everything. When he pulled you tightly into his chest and moved you forwards, carrying you from the danger, you couldn’t help uttering his name from your lips.

“Aemond…” You whispered, your eyes closing in relief as you found yourself able to breathe again. You felt him brush the hair that had been stuck by sweat to your forehead and began caressing the side of your face as you relaxed into his arms. You were still overcome with dizziness from the ordeal.

“My love, this is where you’ve been hiding from me, I see.” You don’t recall if you imagined the crack in his voice or not. You struggled to breath properly leaving Aemond to run his hand along your back in worry, and he pressed a firm kiss to your temple. He did not see the tear the escaped your closed eyes.

“You…” You croaked out, before quickly shaking your head. Pushing against him, Aemond tumbled back with a start and stood staring at you in shock. You kept shaking your head as you stumbled backwards, trying to rid yourself from the warmth that had taken over you by his touch.

“Stop. Come back I… I must look upon you longer. I must convince myself that you are real and that you will not fade before my eye.” He stalked forward to grasp your hands, but you quickly ripped them away and shook harder. You thought it might be pain that flashed across his face, but it was surely not.

“NO! You do not get to look upon me! You do not get to touch me! I will not let you whisper your words any longer!” You tried to steady yourself on a tree, and only just realised Aemond had pulled you into the gardens for safety and fresh air. You heard him move behind you, and without thinking you quickly began walking forward. You don’t know where you were going but you just wanted to be away from him. You remembered the way he would chase you around his bedchamber when you would deny him a kiss unless he caught you. You pictured the memory of him finally wrapping you up and shoving you against the wall while clutching your hair and kissing you with unimaginable passion. The memories were too much to bare and you ran you fingers vigorously through your hair, as if trying to peel them away.

“Stop! No, I won’t let you run away again!” You heard Aemond quickly move to follow you, making your walk turn into a run. Dashing forward without a second thought, you ran straight into the entrance of the maze at the centre of the garden, running faster as you heard Aemond’s heavy foot falls behind you. You weaved around corners and took sharp turns in different directions, hoping to lose the prince who was desperately trying to follow. He was muttering and growling in frustration every time your body slipped away from his reach.

“Leave me Aemond! I do not wish to see you!” You cried out as you stormed around another corner. Aemond called out your name while ignoring your plea and chasing after you even faster.

“Well, that is too bad! You owe me this do you not think!?” His voice was weaved with anger, and you could hear the way he was shoving away the branches and trying to rip his way through to you.

“I owe you nothing!” You were shocked by his nerve, but you thought him just trying to provoke you. Marion was right. Men like Aemond would always think himself an owner over those he takes to bed, but you would not allow him to have that control over you. How dare he think you owe him anything after he played you a fool?

“Just come to me so we can…. please just let me talk to you once more.” You shivered at the desperation in his voice. He was a brilliant actor. Perhaps if he wasn’t born a prince, he would be in plays.

“We have nothing to discuss Prince Aemond. You should find your way back to the ball, it is in your honour.” You found yourself back at the very start of the maze, so you bundled up your skirts and took off in the direction of the feast. You heard Aemond cry out your name in protest, begging for you to return to him, but you paid no mind. You did not imagine you would hear your name on his lips once more. Tumbling into the open doors, you were quickly swept up in Marion’s arms.

“Where the fuck did you end up?” He laughed in relief, bundling you up and pressing a firm kiss on your forehead.

“Don’t ask.” You moaned into his neck. You held him tightly, desperate for some relief to the pain you were feeling.

“Aemond!” You heard the cry of Queen Alicent, and could only assume that the prince had followed you in. The hall was emptied of its guests and all that was left was a small handful of noblemen who seemed to have been waiting for the safe arrival of Aemond after such vicious fighting.

You thought you would feel a small satisfaction that he would be greeted with the sight of you wrapped up in Marion’s arms, but instead you felt cold and empty. Once more Aemond whispered your name, but you did not turn and instead focused your attention on Marion. With a small squeeze on your elbow, Marion placed a kiss upon your forehead and wrapped a loving arm around your waist.

“Ah Prince Aemond! A thousand thank-you’s for returning my betrothed to me so safe and sound. I was overwhelmed with worry.” Aemond’s intake of breath was sharp and loud as Marion declared you his future wife. You hid yourself behind so that no one saw the tears well in your eyes.

“My son… come.” Alicent ordered sadly, almost pitifully.

“Is this true?” Aemond snapped.

“Yes! I have found myself quite fond of my little lady.” In fact, I…” Marion was cut off by Aemond raising his voice.

“Will you not at least have the decency to fucking face me?” He seethed out. You could stand it no longer. Stumbling forward once more, you walked briskly towards the exit. Your brother and father stood to the side, jaws slack as they took you in, but you cared not. All you wanted was to be alone inside your bedchamber to wallow in your despair. You just wanted to be alone.

You did not see the way Aemond stared at your shrinking figure in despair.

taglist: @kellzlib @zillahvathek @lyra689 @hydrationqueensworld @bellameshipper @oscarisdaddy69 @dc-marvel-girl96 @auratiqs @yourfavrouritebitch @pandabearrrrr @cleverzonkwombatsludge @maylaysia109 @afro-hispwriter @schniiipsel @green-lxght @wanderingcl0ud @mantiskatrina @millies0bsimp @hiatuswhore @lolcaca @bellaisasleep @caught-in-the-afterglow @thescreamingraven @tempt-ress @slytherdoravenger @theekinslayer @stereading @elleclairez @targaryenmoony @wrldverde @heavenly1927 @devils-blackrose @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @sexonoblood @dark-night-sky-99 @let-love-bleeds-red @thestartitaness @ariel-23-19 @hvx @shintax-error @qiqiiw @erp-themagicdragon @alldaladiesloveleooo @sabbynlee @rebeccawinters @erika45 @aerithlightwood @bibli0thecary @starkluvrr @chittakii @oh-thats-cute @brookeluvsaustinbutler @witchy-jadda @hadespleasesteponmyneck @pandoraneverland @stella-cadante

i don't know why some names don't link sorry

[thefallennightmare]

Faded Memories- Chapter One Teaser

a/n: so with this series, it will be very small. I think 6 chapters. Updates for it will be sporadic, so if you haven't already filled out my tag list document, feel free to post here or the master list post for this series if you want to be tagged!

I plan on hopefully getting the first chapter posted sometime this week(and then I will jump back into JP!)

Heads up, Matty will be a dick in this series. We love mean!matty. But its kind of justified once you find out why.

LITTLE LONGER THAN NORMAL TEASER BELOW THE CUT!

"Elvi," Matt grunted, his warm breath fanning over the back of my neck.

I pushed my ass farther back against him, desperately needing him to go faster; deeper.

"Matt," I whined. "Please. I need more of you."

A tender kiss to the middle of my spine was all I felt before his pace became erratic, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoed in the small hotel room. The room had filled with the musty scent of our shared arousal and with the sounds of the lies of our true feelings. Both of us knew this wasn't meant to happen, the outcome of this being catastrophic for our friendship but we couldn't deny the chemistry between us; the way our bodies practically craved one another.

Rough, calloused hands smacked my ass, causing me to bellow out in pleasure. Matt's other hand snaked around my neck, hoisting my jaw up towards the ceiling.

"You're so fucking pretty when you scream for me, Elvi," his teeth grazed over the shell of my ear. "I'm not letting you go after tonight. You're mine."

Blinking away the memory, I stood in the middle of the large parking lot while letting out a deep breath. That specific memory from four years ago continued to inhabit my mind. I could still feel the way his cock felt inside of me. I could still smell his scent as it lingered deep into my skin for weeks. I could still remember the way my heart dropped to the depths when I heard him on the phone minutes after we came down from our shared high.

But worst of all, I could still remember the way I cried for what could have been as I slipped out of that hotel room, never looking back.

Touring with Bloodline was never supposed to end like it did. I wasn't supposed to lose my best friend from a night of sexual tension that boiled over like a forgotten pot of water on a stove; yet, like the pot, everything between us evaporated into thin air.

Shaking away the distant feeling of regret, I adjusted the bag on my shoulder and trekked over to the large tour bus as my future awaited me. I gave small waves to everyone, already meeting them days ago, and as Folio showed me up the steps of the bus, rambling on about how excited he was that I was his drum tech for this world tour, I did my best to match his excitement even though I was nervous as hell.

"There's one bunk left, it's right across from our tour manager and front of house guy. He's great though, you'll love him!" Folio smiled as we came to a stop in the middle of the bus.

"Speak of the devil," he chuckled before motioning towards a man who sat on the long couch of the tour bus, hat hung low over those eyes.

Folio's words fell away against the numbness of my body as I stared at the man sitting in front of me; those fading memories slowly resurfacing. Four years later, and he still looked the same.

The only difference was the sheer heartbreak on what used to be the soft features of his face. Those already dark eyes inked with sheer black when they took in the sight of me, remembrance clear as the Los Angeles sky.

"Matt, this is my new drum tech. The one I was telling you about. Her name is-."

Matt stood tall, interrupting Folio's introduction, and he peered down at me. I swallowed thickly, that all too familiar scent encompassing me, rendering me useless.

"Elvi," Matt sneered before roughly pushing past me to stomp his way toward the back area of the bus.

[1singulargrape]

Some SukuIta fic recs on AO3

Here are some of my favorites skit fanfics! I've put tags I found relevant but not all of them. Most of the summaries are from the stories themselves although I improvised some. I hope you can find something you'll enjoy <3

Is this Stockholm-Syndrome? by BaeBeyza

Completed

Status : 14k, 6 Chapters, Complete (M)

Tags : Alternate Universe - Yakuza; Accidental Kidnapping; Implied/Referenced Child Abuse; Non-Consensual Drug Use; Rape/Non-con Elements;

Summary : In which Yakuza Boss Sukuna gets accidentally kidnapped by some hapless idiot

Comment : It’s the “kidnapped by the yakuza boss” trope but reversed! Fun but not really lighthearted /!\

Your path into bloodlust by BaeBeyza

Status : 26k, 10 Chapters,Complete, (M)

Tags : Alternate Universe - Fantasy; God Sukuna; Weretiger Yuuji; Blood and Violence; Hurt/Comfort; Angst with a Happy Ending

Summary : Sukuna, the God of the Hunt, laid his eyes on the golden-eyed hunter

Comment : They both change the other, in a way. Yuuji really Goes Through It in this one but so does Sukuna >:)

Seven Days to Fall in Love by macabrecabra

Status : 35k, 7 chapters, Complete, (E)

Tags : Sci-Fi AU; Survival horror kind of

Summary : It was supposed to be a routine mission, but instead, Yuuji finds himself crash landed on an alien world with seven days to get to the rendezvous point in order to escape the planet. A task only made more difficult by the cursed entity he is expected to keep under control as his vessel.

Comment : I’m not that much into sci-fi but it was still a lot of fun. This story features Yuuji and Sukuna being nearly the same and complete opposites at the same time, and being forced to cooperate in spite of it which is amazing. Also, Sukuna acting like a feral animal/teenager was great!

between our teeth by goodnightfern

Status : 10k, 3 Chapters, Complete, (NR)

Tags : A/B/O; Forced Bonding; Forced Pregnancy; Gross Pregnancy shit; Cannibalism; Incest (kinda?)

Summary : Some rational part of Yuuji’s mind lies dormant beneath this drugged heat. He knows this scene: the monster of an omega, snarling even in forced stasis, struggling to resist the enormous burden of cursed energy sitting heavy as the ocean in this room. As a child he’d run his tiny fingers over the corded strength of his four arms, snuck a peek at the drooling wound in his stomach. He knows the heavy breath barely animating this mountain like his own heartbeat.

Comment : I adore the worldbuilding here. This one features Yuuji changing Sukuna as much as Sukuna changes him and it’s so delicious. Originally a one-shot then expanded upon and it’s one of my favorite take on a/b/o so far.

Love for my child series by BaeBeyza

Status: 3 parts, >100 000k, Complete, (M)

Tags : A/B/O; Rape/Non-Con; Kidnapping; Forced Pregnancy; Lima Syndrome; Eventual Escape; Hurt/Comfort; Self-harm;

Summary : 

Part 1 : Yuuji, a young omega, is kidnapped, raped, and forced to have a child for the “evil man”. Even in this mockery of a domestic life he doesn’t give up on escaping.

Part 2 : Five years after escaping the evil man's grasp, Yuuji finds himself navigating life with his dear son. Fate has other ideas, however...

Comment : The characterizations in this story drives me insane, and part 2 is just banger lines after banger lines (I’m very biased towards this story I rotated it in my mind for months <3). The main storyline is complete while part 3 includes extra-stories and is still ongoing!

Ongoing

I was sent to spy on the demon lord but it turns out he's hot and I'm now his captive?! by rhapshie

Status : 42k, 8 Chapters (1 left), Ongoing, (M)

Tags : Demon Lord Sukuna; Adventurer Yuuji; High Fantasy

Summary : Itadori Yuuji. Gold-rank adventurer.

He picked up a quest to survey the area around the demon lord's castle, but he was caught and held captive. The only way he can escape is by killing the infuriatingly hot Lord Ryomen. And thus, he hatches scheme after scheme to do just that.

Little does he know that in demon culture, assassination attempts mean courting... So, Yuuji unknowingly begins to court the demon lord.

...Oops?

Comment : OH THIS ONE IS SO MUCH FUN! I’m almost tempted to put the crack treated seriously tag because of how silly it is. I really like how the relationship between the main pair develops, and the interactions between Yuuji and the rest of the cast are fun as well!

Aconitum by AttackRabbit

Status : 30k, 10 Chapters, Ongoing, (E)

Tags : A/B/O; Set In Ancient Japan; Implied/Referenced Abortion; Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault; Former Soldier Yuuji; Mentions of War

Summary : Apothecary ex-solder Yuuji while out foraging for vegetables finds a severely wounded alpha. After deciding to save him, Yuuji's life of chosen solitude is threatened.

Comment : This story has managed to surprise me in several ways and every chapter is a treat! I love the care put into showing Yuuji’s competences as an apothecary but there’s so much more to talk about in this story. The author went out of their way to create a fictional language for it as well and it makes it so much more immersive, I hope you can at least check it out!

The Greatest Curse of All by CB_Magique

Status : 106k, 32 chapters, Ongoing, (E)

Tags : A/B/O; Graphic Depictions Of Violence; Rape/Non-Con; Enemies to Lovers; Slow Burn; Lots Of Hurts; Physical Abuse; Miscarriage; More pairings not mentioned in the tags

Summary : [...] Unfortunately, during a Special Grade curse attack, he ends up tricking the King of Curses into a binding vow, completely by accident. Forced into servitude, the safety of all humanity now depends on Yuji being able to sate Sukuna’s desires.

Sukuna does not like being tricked and will not take that disrespect lying down. He is determined to break Yuji. However, Yuji may end up breaking him down first.

Comment : so fucking peak… The tags aren’t lying that burn is SLOW. We’re barely crawling here damn but at least we’re past the lowest point of their relationship! yippee! I love the attention put into describing Yuuji’s day to day life in Sukuna’s mansion (he’s basically forced to live like people from Suku’s time). The interactions between the 2 are often very intense and I love them. Also! There are a lot of creative uses of cursed energy/techniques!

One shots

AITA for being mad at my family for the cruel methods they used to get me to live with them? by BaeBeyza

Status : 1.8k, One-Shot, (M)

Tags : Crack Treated Seriously; Written like a reddit post

Summary : Hello!I was told this is the place to come for advice and I really need it for my current conflicted situation! The title isn’t as bad as it sounds, I just recently found out a bit about my husband and step-kids which led to a lot of anger on my end and I just want an unbiased opinion.

Comment : This one is short and fun, and people are roleplaying in the comments! Poor Yuuji :’)

What color is my blood...Red, black or white? by izugirl

Status : 10k, One-Shot, (E)

Tags : Top Yuuji; Bottom Sukuna; I guess it’s kind of Pw/oP but there’s a lot going on still

Summary : “If I make you feel pleasure,” Yuuji says with the most serious face possible. "You'll leave him alive and it'll just be you and me. Does this sound fun enough for you?"

Or in the midst of battle in the cursed land of Shinjuku, Yuuji asks the King of Curses an unusual question and finds out that the myths about him left out much more than his cursed technique.

Comment : I’m quite literally blowing kisses towards the open tab for this fic. It’s so fucking good. Hello. It goes so hard. One of my favorites of all times for sure. Features : Yuuji and Sukuna being obsessed with each other in an unhealthy way (and being in denial about it), these 2 being the other’s downfall and just… I can’t put it into words but the vibe is, when I try to give a mental image to this story the first this that comes to me is juicy raw meat. Red, bloody and appetizing.

like a lollipop by satorusyuji

Status : 1.3k, One-Shot, (T)

Tags : Crack; Unreliable Narrator; Out of Character

Summary : Yuuji’s terror slowly morphs into confusion while he’s pinned under Sukuna.

Comment : This one is an easy way to put me in a good mood. It’s silly. Doesn’t take much more than that to make me like something XD

Telluric by SmolAfro

Status : 7k, One-Shot, (E)

Tags : Alternate Universe - Trojan War Setting; Alternate Universe - Mythology; Odysseus!Yuuji; Poseidon!Sukuna; Porn With Plot

Summary : Yuuji keeps forgetting to include Sukuna in his prayers. Sukuna in turn makes his life miserable, until Yuuji makes amends.

Comment : OOOOOH. OH THIS ONE. I don’t know what the fuck the author put into that one but just thinking about it puts me back in the state I was after reading in for the first time (read: unwell). I don’t even have the words it’s just- it’s peak. It's just- it's so good I love it so much please read it

the one who will teach you about love is... by The_Rose_That_Blooms

Status : 5.8k, One-Shot, (M)

Tags : Alternate Universe - Heian Period; Courting Rituals; Crack; Minor Violence; Mainly yorozu's POV

Summary : Countless yappings from her attendant, lessons she forced her teachers to teach and herself to be taught, having to get used to the sensation of fabric (sometimes the itchiness was unbearable) wrapping around her skin because it was considered ‘decent’, and most of all, making sure she’d get picked to present herself, among 20 other ladies and men, to Ryoumen Sukuna-sama and become his bride.

Comment : Yorozu’s POV is really funny (and very unhinged). I greatly enjoyed her torment :3

[sadceline]

THE ENHYPEN HOST || 4

|| Reverse harem || ft. TXT, Mingyu (Seventeen) & BTS

WARNINGS: foul language, explicit content, group sex, humiliation, sex in public, threesome, foursoome, rough sex, red flags, immoral acts, unprotected sex, morbid jealousy, comedy, parody, possessiveness, violent quarrels, arguments, betrayals, lies, femdom sometimes. GENTRE: +18, reverse harem, comedy, enemy to lovers, friends to lovers

PREVIOUS CHAPTER:

FIRST CHAPTER:

When I returned to the room (and it is still strange to me) I found Jay sleeping blissfully. I didn't wake him up, but watching his absorbed expression I had my doubts he would have noticed me anyway if I had tried.

I didn't manage to get to sleep until six o'clock I think, when I heard him get up and make some noise, especially after he left the room, and I heard the others as well. Of course I could never sleep, despite I was so tired, I didn't even think about the fact that they will see me with my face caked with sleep, the repulsive me, from now on.

However, when I no longer hear them, I fall asleep in a second.

I wake up at 12 regenerated, the house is empty and silent. As I get myself settled, I call out to Ester.

"Oh god, oh god, who did you fuck?" She shouts.

I burst out laughing; it's the first thing she says to me. "Jay."

She screams even louder, I have to plug the phone speakers. "Bitch, him?!"

"Yes…. and is gigantic. Mastodontic."

She doesn't stop screaming, I wonder if she is in public or at home, considering she works in a korean advertising office. "Please, you have to invite me."

"Of course, I just have to find the right time. For now I think everyone hates me, those who don't hate me are scared or disgusted."

"Those who despise buy."

"You think so?" I giggle nervously.

"What envy… Jay, you damn bitch."

That's right, I hadn't thought of that. Since she's so crazy about Bangtan and hopelessly, sincerely, madly in love with Jongkook, I didn't calculate that she has bias in Enhypen anyway, and between the two is Jay. She shares a preference with a more obvious Jake, but she likes them both very much.

"What are they like?"

"I I don't know, they seem arrogant, more or less."

"Even Jay?"

"He … he's peculiar, I guess."

"In what way?!" He shouts again.

"I can't describe them to you yet…" I stall, undecided sincerely about what to say.

"Arrogant, huh? I didn't imagine anything different, but… like how did they take it? What did they say to you?"

"They were kind, more or less, except for Sunghoon. Oh, and I think Heeseung. I don't really understand him. Anyway, they could all be facades, I have that impression."

"You have to investigate."

"I must, you're right."

We laugh in unison, but in the meantime I think I should start with the cleaning today. I'll do four rooms, as planned, anyway I haven't even received warnings about what to touch or not to touch, but at least the bed I can do.

"So… exactly what do you do?"

"I guess scullery maid, however, the pay is worth the candle."

We laugh again.

Ester, however, has the 1 p.m. shift and still has to settle in, so we hang up with a promise to catch up soon. She tells me to contact her if anything happens, and it's like a warm breath her thoughtfulness makes me feel much less alone.

I'll start at Jay's, so I can get my things in better order as well, but mostly because I don't know whose other rooms are whose, I'll have to go blind, I wasn't sober enough to observe who was coming back where, yesterday.

Not that it changes anything, since I have to do them all, however having used the first round for acquaintances, three of them will be behind for the first five days, so maybe I should do them all.

It would make sense, I could gain some confidence, although I shouldn't yearn for anything like that.

Whatever, let's get on with it. I tie up my hair, put on a low-cut top, baggy shorts and socks to slide better on the hardwood floor, I have to be comfortable, the summer period has just begun and although it's not really hot, yet, the house is so hot.

Jongseong's room is strange, I can't say it's tidy but his closet is a hell swarming with expensive stuff. There is a kind of chaotic orderliness to it all, except for the closet, which was more harmonious before I made room, though.

I didn't bring a lot of things, so I manage to make good use of the generous space he offered to me. Now, the room looks a lot cooler, I moved the curtains and a lot of light comes in.

Let's go with the next one, let's see, I'll pick at random.

Hmm, it's a…normal room. There doesn't seem to be anything to do, everything is already in order. I don't indulge my curiosity in wanting to find out who it belongs to, partly because I also tried not to go through Jay's things, that would be inconsistent.

It is strange, though, why is it so anonymous? It is said that the environment where one lives reflects the soul, but the soul in question is not just neat, it is just ordinary, just looking around I can see that there is the bare minimum, not a photo, not a memento. Jay has several fan gifts, in the room, and he also has photos of his family, there is nothing here.

I go outside, that's okay, I won't go any further. I don't care, anyway. Seriously. I really mean it.

The room next door I recognize instead, and it's quite nice. Nicely furnished, even tidy all things considered, to the point where I just give it a quick tidy up to finish.

Around me are a few, not too many, but several Lego models. As I get closer to look at them I realize that these are some very rare pieces, not because I understand any of them, I knew someone who liked them very much, he showed them to me, something remained.

His order is pleasant, because is real. His various gadgets are arranged randomly, but there is something extremely elegant about the composition.

When I'm done with the third one which is Jake's room as I suspected but mostly because he has several, many photos of himself (not alone, but the ones in which he looked very good), one more to go, I realize it's already 3 p.m. (I took my time), maybe they won't be back for lunch? I don't even have their numbers yet, I guess, because I'm not sure I'll ever get them anyway.

Whatever, since I'm almost done, why not give myself a break? I'll untie my hair, turn on the TV, listen to some music - not theirs…right? Yes, that would be pathetic, so I'll put on someone I like musically almost as much as I do: TXT.

How cool, I find out they have all the subscriptions they can get, must be great to be rich, huh? Curious that I think that because of the amount of streaming services accessible and not because of the huge penthouse I'm in.

All right, the music is there, I've had the juice, I'll re-bind my hair. I'll also do the cooking, I'm feeling generous, since it's all new and strange I'll try to show myself useful so they won't break my balls!

No, maybe I'm not in the right position? I don't get it, what a mess. Whatever, let's dance and not think about it.

I go into the fourth room, oh, this one is nicer, but it's actually messy. There's a keyboard, I have an idea who the owner might be, should I set it on fire? No, we're not really enemies yet, I'll give him the benefit of the doubt.

One of my favorite songs, Fawerell Neverland, has started, I can't help but sing it with them. Meanwhile I pick up some empty ramen packs, some clothes left haphazardly on the floor, some cans, until I notice something I should have expected?

There are boxers. If they are at the foot of the bed, it means they are used. Honestly, Jay didn't leave anything like that lying around, what manners are they when you already know I'm probably going to come over and clean up at your place?

So, what do I do? Do I pick them up or do I leave them in protest? And why am I curious? But then curious about what? All right, I leave them where they are and resume singing.

Heeseung, are you my second enemy? At least you should have the decency to declare it.

"NEVERLAND MY LOVE!" I shout at the top of my lungs, noticing soon after that the bedside drawer is slightly open and I can make out a girl's face, in a picture.

"Do you listen to other people's songs? Weren't you an engene?"

I swear, I jump in the air. I completely failed to notice that he was standing in the doorway, at this point who knows how long.

Who is that girl? It shouldn't concern me, much less interest me.

"Can't I listen to anyone else?" I answer, trying to maintain a calm tone of voice, but I literally defecated on myself.

"Of course not."

"Of course you're strange - I sigh - and anyway, don't leave your dirty underwear lying around. At least you take that off."

"I was hoping you'd steal it from me. It would be in theme with your character, wouldn't it?"

"You're disgusting in person." I say that, though, why don't I think it? He almost snatched a laugh from me, lucky I remembered in time that I have dignity.

I continue to make his stupid bed, so I will have finished my ordinary duties anyway. Does that mean everyone is back? Why do I feel like seeing Jay? It's Heeseung's fault, it's like he's the cheerful version of Sunghoon, isn't it?

He's a jerk but he does it in a nice way? Cute? Charming? Laughing like that? Damn.

I see him turn to the other side of his twin bed, looking at me but I just can't hold eye contact. I lower my eyes and see he's clutching the other end of the sheet, helping me make the bed, I guess he wants me to leave his room.

"I'm not disgusting, am I? You don't mean that." He chuckles, adjusting the pillows for me.

"Yes I do, the biggest disappointment."

He looks at me again, why did he become serious for a second? Did I imagine that? "Disappointment? Is that a hint?"

I blush, a lot, feeling my cheeks flaming. "A hint about what? When I talk to you, I feel like I'm talking to a mentally ill."

"How is your korean so good?" Change the subject again, is that a peculiarity or something?

"I had a very good teacher."

"Oh yeah? And was this person born in Korea?"

"No, she is italian like me."

"Interesting."

I'm curious. We talk a lot fast, it's a constant back-and-forth, we sound like two old friends bickering, but something is different, it's clear. Even though I can talk to him, I feel discombobulated like I'm inside a shaker in action.

"Ah, you were here." I feel like I'm being called by someone.

Turning around, in the doorway of Heeseung's room, this time it's Jake. Was he looking for me? "Me?"

"Yes, you have to be with me today, right?"

in the romance untold album i found this card and the one from heeseung…. i'm so glad

Ah, so that's how it works? I laugh.

He's so handsome, my eye retinas burned during that measly second when I dared to lift my eyelids to him - mine, it was a nervous laugh.

"And how would you prefer me to welcome you? In the traditional korean way? Or something more affectionate?" I drawl, dying inside, my eyes wandering lost across the floor.

"Why not both while wearing a maid's dress?"

"Is that a good idea, I order it?" Heeseung asks.

"Think for yourself about how you want to be greeted, that's my idea."

"What if I had exactly the same idea?"

"Simple, you would be the second."

Heeseung utters a dramatic verse, touching his heart and fingers tighten on his…chest…his chest wrapped in the white t-shirt he wears, which is not exactly loose.

I cough, I think they have forgotten my presence. "I'm not a cosplayer. Apply to the agency next time."

Then the ace of the band, so called not only by the fans, and not for trivial reasons but on the contrary for his undeserved enormous talent in practically anything he does, singing, dancing, being stupidly handsome, bursts out laughing.

He's… I just don't know how to describe it. If there's anything I really have a soft spot for it's his laughter, his smile, of any kind, and seeing him up close, taking advantage of the moments when I'm sure he's looking away to watch, offers me an indescribable feeling.

"Good thing she's nice." He says, turning to Jake.

He is confused, I can see it, sense it. He looks at us tenderly, I feel like biting his face off, I quickly look away terrified by my intrusive thoughts, if I look at him, I really want to.

Then he walks over, grabs my wrist and smiles. "Let's go now."

"Where are we going?"

"I have a lot of things to ask you." He explains, pulling me gently.

Him? He is the one who should ask me?

Forgive me Ester, you've always had excellent taste. I can't deny it.

I follow him, asking no questions. As I pass through the hallway I realize that everyone, or almost everyone, has returned, certainly Jay, Jungwon and Niki. The first looks at me, while Jake drags me by the wrist, says nothing, and I get a strange feeling.

It's strange, isn't it? He didn't even say hello to me.

No, maybe I should be the one to do that? And isn't it that I might annoy Jake? He referred to spending time together as something exclusive, so should I pretend that others don't exist? There is something paradoxical about this situation.

"Did you find disorder? I'm sorry." He says, looking around and turning his warm, sensual smile on me. I'm afraid he's playing it off with Heeseung at this point that I see him live.

He's not really embarrassed, but he wants to look embarrassed.

"No, your room is the best so far." I reply under my breath.

"Which ones have you done so far? There's one neater than mine."

"Ah, so I found it! Whose is it?"

"Sunghoon's."

Ah.

Jaeyun, his korean name, sits on the bed, looks at me and smiles like a fool. I don't know, does he want to do it right away? Is that what he wants to ask me? I am uncomfortable, but not with the assumption of such a proposal, so much as because I am not yet used to handling all these hormones.

Jake is wearing a sweater with a wide neckline, I can see his gorgeous collarbones, moreover, he has his tongue stuck between his lips as he watches me.

Come on, I'm not that beautiful, he's blatantly faking it, but I'm not, I'm devastated by this sight.

"Aren't you going to say anything?"

"I don't like Sunghoon, I'm glad he's doing it alone for his room."

"Just as well, he's not a good person." She accentuates his beautiful smile for some reason, then lays down emitting a tired breath.

"I've noticed … but do we think so for the same reason?"

"Of course not." He answers quickly, getting back up.

How strange, he became energetic all of a sudden. I've already sensed strange vibes between Jake and Riki, now with Sunghoon too? Jay's argument is becoming more and more credible, but why is Jake always in the middle?

"Aren't you going to ask me why?"

"Would you tell me?"

He allows himself a sexy laugh, to say the least, because any other adjective would be unheard-of vulgarity. "You're also smart then."

"I try."

While Jake takes a moment to respond to messages, I start walking around looking at his legos again, honestly not sure what to do.

"What is it you want to ask me?"

"Who's your bias?"

What? Him too? Egocentric these Enhypen.

"I don't have it."

"Liar!" He playfully accuses me, pointing at me.

How can such a sweet guy also be so damn erotic? I can't even breathe properly in his presence.

"I really don't."

"So…who do you think is the most handsome?"

Damn! He's too cute! I cover my mouth to avoid showing him my perverted smirk, then cough. "You're all equally handsome."

"It's just not me, is it? That's why you don't tell me."

It's exactly the opposite thesis from Heeseung's, convinced that it's him. Does this tell me anything? Possibly, but I am too enamored with my interlocutor to reason.

"What do you need to know, then…" I giggle, softly, almost hoping he doesn't hear me.

"Has anyone else asked you?"

I laugh again, more nervously. "Never mind, is that what you wanted to ask me?"

"I like to have confirmation of things I'm curious about."

I think that's the basis, Jake, but I don't want to contradict you because you're too handsome, honestly.

"I'm the most handsome, aren't I?"

Aha, identified: narcissistic, maybe pathological?

"You have millions of fans who are crazy about you, what do you care if you are to me?"

"Then it's not really me!"

Was he testing me in his own way? I have no idea but it's cute. Even the pouty, offended expression he gives me now is to bite, tear up, devour.

Thoughts too intrusive, fantasies too lucid.

"Even if I thought that, I wouldn't tell you." I admit, covering my mouth again before laughing this time for real.

"What? - He asks, his vowels are open, his tone childlike but teasing. - And why?"

"It's…quite a sight, seeing you like this."

He smiles, his gaze thinned, and why? "Like what?"

What's wrong with me? I feel like… make him mine, in a way.

"So desperate."

"Me? - He asks theatrically outraged. - Me desperate?"

"Don't you desperately want to be the most beautiful, for me?"

What am I saying? And with what courage? Who is this person? I usually go unnoticed, and not because I'm unattractive so much as because I can't sell myself very well, which is why I'm surprised to see myself in this state.

It's called the Jake effect, I don't think there is a cure.

"Do you want to see me even more desperate?" His voice is no longer innocent, neither is his gaze. A shiver runs through every single inch of my body, so strong it leaves me shaken.

Suddently someone open the door, it seems a habit to appear in this house.

"What are you doing?"

Jake glares at him, I couldn't even think of doing that. "What?"

"Let's decide what to eat." Riki replies, annoyed by his sour tone.

"Have you eaten?" Jaeyun then asks, I think to me, no yes, of course to me!

I nod nervously. I don't even know if I'm breathing right now.

"What did you eat? Everything looks the same in the kitchen. Look you don't have to order-"

"You ordered?!" Jake takes it personally.

"I didn't actually eat, I don't know why I said yes." I explain, guessing that instead of my face they are seeing a big bell pepper.

"Why didn't you eat?"

"Is it because of what Heeseung said?" Niki asks, and I don't understand.

He has been quiet and reserved from the first moment, but he wants me to believe that he is worried about me? Come on, I'm a woman of a certain age compared to him, right? I'm not naive, I keep saying that, right?

"No, no." I belittle it with a ridiculous noise coming from my nose.

"Come on, you've been cleaning all day! I'm hungry too."

Jake can't talk anymore, what's wrong with him? Why does he keep staring at Niki? Am I like the third wheel or…?

I don't know how many seconds pass before, in the tomb-like silence that has set in, the major gets up, looks at Niki again, mumbles in an absolutely adorable way, then lightly and amicably nudges him so that he can get out of his room.

"Come on, get out, get out. Let's go eat." He tells me in a way that is much more serious than his expression.

Man, I'm curious now. Very curious indeed.

NEXT CHAPTER:

hello, this is the first time i've left a note…i just wanted to apologize for this bad english and for the mistakes you've surely found - i hope you can continue reading the story because i had a lot of fun writing it (ten chapters are ready but i have to translate them ç_ç)

[cheynovak]

Complicated

Characters: Soldier boy x Y/N Female character     

Summary: Y/N found a new life after the loss of Ben. She married Steve, had a house with a white picked fence. She thought she was happy. Until Ben returns from Russia.

Warnings: none

English is not my first language 

*Please do not copy my work, reblog/comments/likes are appreciated* 

part 8

It had been decades since Ben disappeared in Nicaragua, and the version Vought sold to the public—that he heroically stopped a nuclear explosion—always felt like a lie to me. But as the years passed, I stopped hoping for the truth. I moved on.

I had a whole new life, a new chapter. I married Steve when I turned 25, five years after I let go of Ben.

Steve is a wonderful man, kind and generous. He wasn’t anything like Ben. Steve wasn’t a superhero or a larger-than-life figure; he was grounded, patient, and treated me like I was his world. But it never really felt the same.

I loved him in a way. But I was never in love with him.

Steve ran a successful company, one of those businesses that seemed to flourish no matter what the economy looked like. He had built his empire from the ground up, and despite turning 65 last year, he was still working, still driven. His wealth provided us with a comfortable life, and he always made sure I had everything I wanted.

Steve treated me like a princess, with the kind of devotion I never expected but had grown to love. We didn’t have kids together; I never wanted them. Maybe it was my past, maybe the trauma of losing Ben, but I knew motherhood wasn’t for me. Steve understood, never pressured me, and we built a life that was just the two of us.

It was a quiet life, safe and predictable—exactly what I needed after the chaos of my younger years.

One morning, Steve and I were sitting in the living room. He was reading the newspaper while I busied myself in the kitchen, making breakfast. The television was on, more background noise than anything, until the news anchor’s voice caught my attention.

"Breaking news: there has been a massive explosion downtown, and witnesses claim—"

I glanced up from the stove, not really paying attention at first. But then the image on the screen made my heart stop. My breath caught in my throat, and I could feel the spatula slip from my fingers.

"Ben?" The word escaped my lips in a whisper, disbelief flooding me.

The footage on the TV was grainy, shaky, but unmistakable. There he was, Soldier Boy. Ben, my Ben. Alive.

Looking exactly the same as he did in 1980, part from the big beard and unclean hair and clothing. My legs gave way, and I gripped the edge of the counter for support, my mind reeling. How could this be possible? After all these years, after everything, how was he standing there?

Steve, noticing my reaction, looked up from his paper. "Darling, what’s wrong?"

I couldn’t hear him. All I could do was stare at the screen, my heart racing, memories of a life I had long buried rushing back in an instant. Ben, the man I had loved so deeply, the man I thought I’d lost forever, was somehow back.

I stood frozen in the kitchen, staring at the television screen in disbelief, my heart pounding in my chest. Ben... was alive. After four decades of believing he was gone, he was here, back in the world. I felt like I was drowning in emotions I hadn’t faced in years, emotions I thought were long buried.

Steve saw the change in me, the way my hands trembled. Concern etched across his face as he walked over, gently taking my arm. “Y/N, what’s wrong?” His voice was calm, steady, just like him. I glanced at him, his face full of love and worry, and the guilt hit me like a punch to the gut.

Steve didn’t know.

He had no idea about Ben. We met just months after I left Vought. I had been trying to piece my life back together, and when he asked me about my past, I told him some the basic lies mix with the truth —that I had worked for Vought, that I had left after my boss died, but nothing more.

I never told him about Ben or soldier boy. How could I? How could I explain something I could barely make sense of myself? Did Ben and I even had something long enough to call it a relationship? We had plans, yes, but he got away before we had a chance for happiness.

Ben was the one that got away.

The second we decided to be together, he was shipped off on that off-the-books mission, and everything crumbled. Our time had been cut short, and I had no closure, no real understanding of what we were. Just a mess of feelings left hanging in the air, unfinished.

I had lied to Steve. He never questioned it. He believed me, and I built my new life around that lie.

Steve gently led me to the couch, his arm still around me. “Y/N, you’re shaking. Talk to me. What’s going on?”

I sat down, my mind spinning, trying to sort through everything, trying to figure out what to say. The TV was still showing images of the explosion, of Ben, the man who I thought I had lost forever. The man who had somehow returned after all these years.

How could I explain this to Steve now, after all this time? Could I even begin to untangle the mess of what Ben and I were—what we almost were—without breaking everything I had with Steve?

I looked at him, his warm, trusting eyes searching mine, and I felt the weight of the secret I had been carrying for so long.

"I…" My voice trembled. "I don’t know how to explain this."

Steve’s expression softened, and he sat next to me, holding my hands. "Whatever it is, you can tell me. I’m here."

I took a deep breath, but the words still wouldn’t come. Not yet. Not with the ghost of Ben looming so large in my mind. Not with the shock of seeing him again, after all this time, stirring up feelings I hadn’t dealt with in decades.

--

Weeks had passed since the day I saw Ben on the news.

Every day, as I went about the same routine: finish some household tasks, going to the shop, buy flowers, placing them on Ben's statue, but now couldn’t stop myself from walking past Vought. It was irrational, I knew. But some part of me—some part that hadn’t healed from the past—hoped to catch a glimpse of him. If he was alive, if Ben had survived all these years, why hadn’t he come looking for me?

The question gnawed at me, growing louder with each passing day. I tried to focus on Steve, on our life together, but the thoughts kept spiraling. Every time I walked past Vought’s headquarters, memories flooded back, and the questions multiplied.

Was Ben still the same man I remembered? Did he even think about me?

Was I just a fleeting part of his past, easily forgotten when his life was restored?

Or did he in the end chose Crimson Countess after all?

I hated myself for feeling this way. I was married to a wonderful man, a man who loved me deeply, who gave me everything I could have ever wanted. But the uncertainty surrounding Ben’s return was tearing me apart. I couldn’t tell Steve—couldn’t bring him into this mess of emotions and half-remembered feelings. He deserved better.

One evening, after another day of walking past Vought, of glancing up at those towering walls in hopes of something—anything—I headed home, my mind swirling. The sky was overcast, and the streets felt heavier than usual. My legs carried me automatically, but my thoughts were elsewhere. The memory of Ben, the man I once thought I loved, weighed on me like a stone.

Why hadn’t he come to find me?

As I opened the door, back at home I heard Steve laugh. I figured he brought a colleague home like he had done before. But no, I turned the corner asking him what he wanted to eat.

I froze in the doorway, my heart slamming against my ribs. There he was. Ben. Standing in my kitchen. The beard threw me off for a second, but there was no mistaking it. His eyes, those intense green eyes, were locked on mine, the same as they were all those years ago. I had to grip the doorframe just to steady myself, my legs threatening to give out.

"Darling," Steve’s voice snapped me back to the present. He came over to me, his tone warm and casual, completely unaware of the storm inside me. He kissed the top of my head, a gesture so familiar, yet in this moment, it felt distant, like a world I no longer fit into. "You never told me your old boss was Soldier Boy."

My heart dropped. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from Ben, and his gaze never left mine either. The air felt thick with everything unsaid, with years of unresolved feelings, guilt, and confusion. I could see the recognition in his face, the way his jaw clenched, the way his fists tightened at his sides as if he was fighting to hold back something.

He looked… different. Rougher, but still unmistakably Ben. Hadn't aged a day.

Steve, oblivious to the tension in the room, was still smiling, still welcoming, like this was some old friend we’d just run into at the grocery store. "I-I-I didn’t think it was important," I stammered, barely managing to get the words out. My voice was weak, shaky, completely betraying the calm facade I was trying to hold.

Ben’s eyes darkened, a flash of something—hurt? Anger?—crossing his face, but he said nothing. He just stood there, a living ghost from a past I thought I had buried. My mind raced, searching for something to say, some explanation, but I couldn’t find the words.

Why was he here? After all these years, after vanishing without a trace, why now?

Steve, ever the gracious host, turned back to Ben, clapping him on the shoulder. "I was just telling Ben how much Vought has changed since the '80s. What a wild time that must have been, huh?" Steve laughed, completely unaware of the history standing in his kitchen.

Ben’s lips pressed into a thin line, and I could see him struggling to contain himself, to keep the conversation light. But his eyes were locked on me, and there was no mistaking the tension that radiated between us. "Yeah," Ben finally said, his voice rougher than I remembered. "Wild times."

I felt like the walls were closing in, the room spinning as the past collided with my present. How could I explain this to Steve? How could I tell him about the man standing in our kitchen, the man I had once loved, the man who had vanished and left me with so many unanswered questions?

"Steve, Honey, would you mind getting us something to eat? I eh, I don't think I have enough food in the house for three people."

--

The moment the door clicked shut behind Steve, the tension in the room became unbearable. I took a single step forward, my heart pounding in my chest, and asked, barely a whisper, “Is it really you?”

Ben smirked, the same confident, cocky expression I hadn’t seen in decades. “It is.”

Up close, it was even more surreal. He looked exactly the same. Untouched by time. “You haven’t aged a day,” I said, my voice trembling. I was trying to process everything—the impossibility of him being here, of him still looking like this, as if the years hadn’t even touched him.

He didn’t respond with words. Instead, he closed the distance between us in a single, deliberate movement, and before I could even think, his lips were on mine. The kiss was electric, pulling me under like a drug I hadn’t tasted in years. I froze at first, the shock of it overwhelming me, but then something familiar—and dangerous—awoke inside me.

All those memories I had tried so hard to bury, all the nights I spent wondering what could have been, paled in comparison to the reality of him here, now. My mind raced, half of me screaming to stop, to remember that I was married, that Steve was just outside, and the other half of me spiraling back to 1980 when everything had been about Ben.

His kiss was rougher than I remembered, but still… god, it was incredible. My best memories of him had been half-wrong compared to how he felt, how he tasted. The heat between us was undeniable, but it came with a heavy weight of confusion and guilt. How could I feel this way after everything that had happened? After all this time?

I pulled back, gasping for air, my mind spinning. “Ben…” I whispered, my lips still tingling from his touch. “What are you doing here?”

His green eyes bore into mine, as intense as ever, filled with something dark and unreadable. “I came back for you,” he said, his voice low and gravelly. “I never stopped thinking about you.”

I was torn between the raw, unspoken feelings between us and the life I had now, the life I had built without him. "Why now?" I asked, my voice breaking, the weight of everything starting to crash down on me.

Ben's hand brushed my cheek, his touch both familiar and foreign after all these years. "I never meant to leave you," he began, his voice quieter now, almost soft. "Things went wrong." There was something broken in his tone, an undercurrent of regret, but all I could manage to say was, “I’m married.”

He glanced down at my hand, lifting it gently, his thumb grazing over my wedding ring. His expression darkened, and he let out a bitter chuckle. “I can see that,” he said, the pain masked under a layer of sarcasm. “What happened to not sharing?”

His words hit like a punch to the gut, pulling me back to our last moments together, decades ago. I had told him I didn’t like to share, that I wanted him to be mine alone, and now here I was… married to another man. I swallowed hard, guilt rising in my throat. “I thought you were gone, Ben. Dead. Vought said—” I stopped, the lies Vought fed us still tasting bitter.

“I was gone.” His voice was sharp, edged with anger, but there was hurt there too. “Vought made sure of that. But I didn’t want to leave you.”

My eyes welled up with tears, the weight of the years between us crashing down. “You never came back,” I whispered. “I waited… I waited for so long.”

“I didn’t have a choice,” he said, stepping closer again. “I thought of you every damn day. And when I finally got free…” He trailed off, his gaze dropping to the floor for a moment before returning to mine, piercing and intense. “You were the first person I wanted to find.”

My chest ached with a confusing mix of emotions—relief, anger, sorrow, and something dangerously close to longing. He had come back for me, after all this time. But it was too late. I had built a life, found someone else.

“Ben,” I said softly, stepping back, trying to clear the fog of old feelings. “I’m not the same person anymore. It’s been decades.”

His jaw clenched, and for a moment, I saw the Soldier Boy persona slip—the man who never took no for an answer, who fought for what he wanted. “Neither am I,” he said, his voice low. “But some things don’t change.”

I wanted to believe him, to believe that we could just pick up where we left off, but the ring on my finger was a reminder of the life I had now. "I moved on, Ben. I had to." The words hurt to say, but they were true.

He studied me for a long moment, his eyes narrowing slightly, as if weighing his next move. “Tell me one thing,” he said, his voice gruff. “Do you love him?”

The question hung in the air between us, heavy and complicated. I looked away, not sure how to answer, because I did love Steve. But in this moment, with Ben standing in front of me, all those old feelings were clawing their way back to the surface. Could I honestly say that I didn’t still love Ben too?

I could see the pain flicker across Ben's face as I said the words. “Steve gave me everything I wanted—a house, a home, he loves me.”

Ben’s voice cut through, sharp and raw. “Y/N, that’s not the question.”

I sighed, feeling the weight of it all pressing down on my chest. “It’s… different."

Ben swallowed hard, and I saw him take a step back, the distance between us suddenly vast. His jaw clenched, his hands balled into fists by his sides. “So, I’m too late?” His voice cracked, just a little. It was almost enough to break me.

My eyes filled with tears. “Ben, I—”

“Fucking Russians,” he muttered, cutting me off as he turned his back to me, his frustration boiling over. “Fuck Vought! If it weren’t for them…” His words trailed off, but the bitterness in his tone was unmistakab. He was angry at the years he lost—angry at the life we never got to have.

I reached out, placing a hand on his muscular shoulder, feeling the tension beneath my fingers. “Ben, what happened? Where did you go?"

His shoulders tensed under my touch, and for a moment, it felt like he might actually open up, like he might tell me everything. But just as I was about to push for more, the door clicked open behind us.

Steve walked in, a smile on his face, carrying bags of Chinese food. “Darling, I got your favorite—honey walnut shrimp!” He didn’t notice the tension in the air, not at first.

I quickly pulled my hand back from Ben’s shoulder, stepping away as Steve came closer. My heart raced, panic flaring in my chest. “Oh, Steve… thanks.” My voice trembled, and I tried to force a smile, but it felt weak, hollow.

Steve set the food down on the counter, turning to face us both. His eyes shifted between me and Ben, and I saw the flicker of confusion return. “Everything okay in here?” he asked, his tone light, but I could tell he was sensing the shift in the room now.

I nodded taking the bag, But Ben didn’t turn around, his back still to Steve. He stood there, rigid, like a ticking time bomb ready to go off.

I opened my mouth to respond, but I couldn’t find the words. How could I explain any of this? The man I care for, my husband, standing next to the ghost from my past—the man I never really got over.

Steve's smile faded as he took in the tense silence, his brow furrowing.

--

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