#I need him to be bewitched by this man heart body and soul

[celestialbruise]

so I started reading 'interview with a vampire' and I actually really like Anne Rice's writing style, however, where is my Louis? no, I don't know this random motherfucker who's currently speaking. I'm talking about mr. Louis de Pointe du Lac. where is he?!?!

[crushmeeren]

Hello there , I read your “things Astarion would say” and my soul left my body. I was wondering if you could do similar thing for Halsin maybe??

Thank you!!

♡ I’m so glad you enjoyed Astarion’s filthy mouth. As soon as you mentioned Halsin, I knew I immediately had to write for him as well. In a loving way, I hope this makes your soul leave your body. ♡

✾ For some reason I picture Halsin really enjoying tits so….yeah.

❧ ☙ Halsin / Fem Reader

♡ Master List Link

❧ My precious little bear, I’m beyond grateful we’ve been provided with a quiet moment alone. I’ve had the urge to devour you entirely since the sun rose.

❧ Oak Father, my eyes feast upon you naked as the day you were born. Your beauty transcends nature, breasts so supple I hunger for a taste.

❧ One day when your belly is swollen with our offspring, I’ll drink my fill of the honeyed milk that’ll flow from your sweet nipples.

❧ Be still and stay standing, my heart. Rest upon the tree and let me lavish your soft cunt to my hearts desire.

❧ Careful now, my dove. Go as slow as need be, I promise we’ll get that wicked mouth of yours to fit around my cock.

❧ So eager for me little one. I’ll take care of you, just allow me to prepare you a bit more before we go further.

❧ My gorgeous girl, being absolutely perfect for me. You open up so beautifully.

❧ Take a breath love, I’ve got you. I know my cock is rather large but we’ll take it inch by inch until I’m fully buried inside your cunt.

❧ Gods, I’m enthralled with how your warmth grips me so tightly. Please, allow me to worship your body for the goddess you are.

❧ Forgive me, but your cunt swallows me too well. It’s simply euphoria, I may not be able to stop myself from taking you too vigorously.

❧ Oak father have mercy on me. You know I can’t tame the beast inside when the word daddy falls from your lips.

❧ Naughty little bear, so sublime, the way you present for me. It’s a bewitching sight that would have any man falling to his knees.

❧ Your breasts are ravishing. I could be mesmerized, watching them bounce for hours.

❧ Oh hells. There you go, my pretty dove. You’re doing so wonderful, allowing me to feel the crest and swells of your sweet pleasure.

❧ My heart, you were crafted by nature just for me. I’m going to spill inside you, breed you until you’re round and glowing with our child.

❧ Don’t you dare let a drop of my seed spill from your womb.

[vaguely-concerned]

the things it adds to both of the characters involved that lucanis used to have a thing for viago could not have been more tailor made to be for me. literally the ideal thing to come out of this game for me personally and specifically and spiritually. I mean I'm teia x viago trash until the day I die and nothing will ever change this (and with the best will in the world and even the power of lucanis' big beautiful soulful eyes, that would never have worked out even if viago DID somehow understand he was being propositioned. which I'm not convinced he did. the mutual 'so. snakes are pretty cool huh. and. knives. also' awkward energy without someone of teia's charisma and people skills involved to mitigate it... it would have been dire), but on so many levels I find it so incredibly charming for what it says about them both that the (one-sided) attraction was there once.

what's more, it means the man about whom this legendary paragraph was written:

Viago was not a typical Antivan. He liked facts—checklists, numbers, precise measurements. Heart palpitations, clammy hands, tight pants—Viago did not like these things. In fact, he would go so far as to say he hated them. Mild curiosity was his favorite mood.

has got some of the hottest coolest deadliest people in thedas down so catastrophically bad it's got them acting unwise. teia had to wait a UST-drenched decade for him to be ready to take his fucking gloves off for her. and she did!! the tetchiest most neurotic least approachable little vetinari knockoff of a man you ever saw has game for days and days and lives rent free in heads for years. in eight little talons viago consistently feels so inadequate up against dante and it's like. man I'm shaking you by the lapels you have what he'll never have. the ability to bewitch body and soul with your terrible personality and long thin legs. do not waste the gift you've been given go get her she's waiting!!!

(lucanis is really good at reading people, so I wonder if maybe he saw through all of that to some of the steadiness and incredible capacity for warmth and tenderness in specific interpersonal relationships you see viago have with teia when he finally opens up enough, and maybe that was part of it. either way it's so perfect that both he and teia have regarded viago with this affectionate intrigued amusement. lucanis still seems pretty fond of him in a 'viago continues to be exactly himself no matter what else happens or goes wrong. comforting universal constant' sort of way, he brings him up quite a lot in party banter.)

you've seen lucanis' game in this day and age, arguably or at least hopefully older and wiser -- can you imagine how catastrophically bad it must have been back when he presumably handed viago, most paranoid man in thedas all years running, a knife like this expressed everything it needed to. people give him so much shit for the cake moment being his big romantic lock-in, but considering where we started that is GROWTH and I for one am so proud of him fhsdkjaf.

also I wonder at what point vis-a-vis that whole Situation teia and viago met for the first time, leading us to ask... just how much was it a matter of lucanis simply being ignored out of a lack of interest on viago's part (tbf, not entirely unlikely). how much was it lucanis truly not managing to make himself understood. (all but certainly. literally how would one understand that. I think it says some sweet things about rook and lucanis' dynamic that they -- somehow -- DO pick up what he's putting down in a similar scenario presumably b/c they know him pretty well by then haha.) how much was it viago interpreting the romantic move as a death threat from one of the most dangerous people alive and freaking out. (1000% and indubitably.) and how much was it andarateia steal-your-girl cantori turning up and thus setting off whatever spectacular, volatile, awesome-in-the-original-sense chemical reaction between the substances of her and viago's souls that goes on to this day and makes everything else kind of a side note at best. a gentle mix of several of these things, perhaps. ...god I love all these characters so much

[revehae]

sexcapade

pairing ↠ co-worker!johnny x (f) reader

genre .. warnings ↠ smut, professor!johnny x professor!reader, infidelity, unprotected sex, sensory deprivation, overstimulation, almost getting caught

summary ↠ with things in the bedroom getting boring with your husband, you start searching for excitement and your co-worker, johnny, is more than willing to provide it for you. on campus, you barely acknowledge each other, but in the sheets, you can't stop calling out his name.

wc ↠ 2.2k

a/n ↠ part 1/5 of the college-capades series! connected to do you like it, dr. lee?

don't like it, don't read.

it started in the spring. like there was pollen in the air, too there was lust, gentle breezes seemingly sweeping you flush against johnny’s chest where you could never not inhale the manly scent of him; never not leave with it clinging to you.

you were very aware that it was wrong. matter of fact, every time you laid eyes on your husband’s face and looked into his, saw how they twinkled at the sight of you and how they were bewitched by the charm of your soul, guilt ruptured your heart with an angry, unmistakable pang of ire.

so you did not think with the throbbing inside your chest, but the throbbing between your thighs.

a woman needed excitement in her life, a specimen that johnny was more than glad to offer. sex quickly got boring in the bedroom after so many years of unlively routines and you taught molecular biology to a class of undergraduates that couldn’t wait to get the fuck on with their lives. to say nothing of the long nights spent sifting through overdue assignments. you were allowed to have fun sometimes. after all, you were only in your early thirties. you still considered yourself young.

like many other women, specifically younger ones that found him attractive for an older man, you noticed that johnny did not wear a ring on his finger. upon further discussion, you learned that though he was no longer married, he had a twenty-something-year-old son who took your class. apparently, his son spoke delightfully of you, which was flattering, but you’d always been more interested in what johnny thought.

and you quickly found out.

“had enough?” johnny asked, poking his head through the doorway. 

not that you could see. there was a blindfold taut around your face, hindering your vision for the past forty-five minutes. to you, it felt like an eternity. the toy between your trembling thighs buzzed, inducing orgasm after orgasm, a number so great that it had tears slipping down your cheeks past the fabric of the blindfold.

speaking of orgasms, you couldn’t stop the cry that parted your lips as heat unfurled throughout your body for the umpteenth time, spreading from between your thighs to your head where there was nothing but empty thought and faintness.

“that was beautiful,” johnny remarked, only watching.

“please,” you croaked.

johnny played dumb with you. he had a penchant for it, drawing out your agony by pretending as if he were oblivious to your needs, when in reality he was the most attuned to them. “you want more?”

“no!” you exclaimed, desperate. you couldn’t even feel your legs if you tried, that was how long he had left you here with yourself - and this fucking toy. “please, no more. it’s too much, johnny.”

“but baby,” johnny started, donning his sweetest tone. “you wanted this. remember?”

that was true. you knew when this affair first started that johnny was available to open you up to new, exciting things, because your bedroom experiences with your husband could all be described the same way. though with johnny, there was room for variety.

it was just overwhelming sometimes. johnny could be so harsh under the guise of merely giving you what you wanted. you knew that it was what he wanted if anything, that you were just his lab rant to experiment on, but you never admit that you liked it that way. nor would you admit that you would’ve also liked to be a little more. 

but johnny knew that. he never mentioned a word of it, because it didn’t need to be said. it went without saying that you were his to do whatever he pleased with.

“johnny…,” you trailed, your voice shaky.

johnny, ignoring you, asked, “how many times did you cum?”

you gulped. racking your brain for an answer, you ultimately came up empty. by the third one, time lost all meaning and so did thought. “i… i lost count.”

“then, you know what that means, right?”

you gasped when the toy was moved. not at the action itself, but because you didn’t realize he’d gotten so close. his footsteps were so quiet.

“but…,” you started. 

“but nothing,” johnny said, snatching the blindfold off of your face. you blinked a couple of times, adjusting to the brightness. the cuffs around your wrists were next. “you know the rules, don’t you?”

you whispered, “yes, johnny.”

“hands and knees.”

you didn’t hesitate to crawl into the said position, regardless of the exhaustion weighing down your body, because you knew what to expect if you didn’t comply with whatever he wanted. there were times were johnny was generous enough to let you cum, times where you didn’t deserve it, much like now. you wanted to get around punishment, but it would never happen if you didn’t satiate him.

the bed creaked when he raised himself atop of it from behind you, the sound of him fumbling with his belt making you wetter. once upon a time, you didn’t even think that that was possible, but you never stopped dripping when with johnny. somehow, he made even simple things like the anticipation arousing.

johnny dropped his shirt, followed by a toss of his pants. he had no need for them anymore. for the forty-five minutes that you’d been ruining his sheets, weakened by the overstimulation, johnny had been in his study trying to shake the thoughts of you while he attempted to grade papers. he was already hard from his imagination and the memories of stuffing you full of his cum, but seeing you in front of him, waiting for him, your pussy soaked for him, it did unfathomable things to his cock.

you released a shaky breath when you felt him lubricating himself with your arousal, slipping between your glistening folds, and writhed from the sensitivity. “johnny, it’s too much,” you whimpered. 

johnny chuckled. “baby, i’m not even inside you yet.”

your face burned. you could feel yourself dripping and it was humiliating, because you only got like this for him and him only.

“so fucking wet,” johnny cursed, having fun teasing your folds. “just for me.”

you cried out when he suddenly slapped your cunt, mouth parted as you gasped out, “john.”

“fuck, you always get so wet for me. isn’t that right, baby?” johnny asked, enamored with you. it was magical how he could pretend as if you meant nothing to him at work and become so addicted to you when nobody was watching.

you bobbed your head. “yes, johnny. just for you.”

that must’ve did it for him, because the very next second, you felt johnny finally start to roll inside of your cunt, mumbling curses under his breath. you almost collapsed then, almost slumped and gave out just from the tip of his cock, but you resisted because you had something that you needed to prove.

johnny was slow, but his cock slipped right inside you with ease, it was almost pathetic. not to mention that he was bigger than anything you could’ve imagined taking, so much that you always found yourself gasping when you realized that he wasn’t completely buried inside of you yet. you couldn’t believe that he had so much to give.

“oh my god,” you moaned, eyes rolling back from how full you were. no man had ever satisfied you like this, and johnny was just getting started.

not only were you filled to the hilt with his hard cock, but also the ache for him to fuck you until your entire body went numb like he’d already done countless times. johnny gripped your hips, using them as an anchor. when you felt so good as you did, as tight as you were, it would be dangerous not to ground himself.

johnny grabbed a fistful of your hair, pulling just tight enough to let you know the trip was there. you were basking in his warmth and being crushed underneath his weight while he balanced your hips in one hand and the grip on your hair in the other. he smacked your ass and hissed, “so fucking pretty.”

sometimes you wished that he was yours. you could imagine coming home with him day after day, singing to music in the car together while his company made minutes feel like hours. you didn’t mind that he had a son, either. you always wanted a child, though not one that would be the product of shitty sex and a broken marriage.

the liking you’d taken to johnny went beyond sex, though the endless orgasms and fulfillment he never neglected you of definitely encouraged those feelings. moments like now, when he was balls deep inside you, you were more than willing to risk it all for him. you would get a divorce. you would move in. anything he wanted, just as quick as he said the word.

i am out of my mind, came your thoughts, though your grip on them slackened the more johnny fucked you into oblivion. 

“it’s so… deep,” you gasped, marveling. 

johnny chuckled. though you had never said it outright, your constant fascination with how big his cock was or how deep he could fit inside you, stretching out your velvety tight walls, was more than enough of an indication that your husband was not exactly packing like he was. you made it a point to mention that johnny was huge.

“yeah?” johnny asked huskily, wanting to suck a bruise onto the side of your throat, but he willed himself not to.

“mm-hm,” you mumbled. “can feel you in… in my stomach.”

“where?” johnny kept one hand at your hip but dropped the one at your head, wrapping it around you, and reaching for your stomach. “here?”

you bobbed your head. he could feel it too, and it elicited a deep growl out of him, one that had you clamping involuntarily around his size.

johnny could fuck you for hours if you let him. the same way that he was the best you’d ever had, he simply couldn’t get enough of you. there were times throughout the day where his mind would only flicker with debilitating thoughts of you, memories of your face and how you tasted. at times, you made it difficult to move on.

“dad,” came a voice from down the hall, one both of you were very acquainted with. 

“shit,” johnny hissed, irritated, and clamped his hand around your mouth. your cries and whimpers were muffled into his hard palm and your breath was cut off, because it was so difficult to breathe solely through your nose. “be a good girl and keep quiet.”

“dad,” sounded his son’s voice again, just outside the door. 

your heart was racing. your eyes were wide, the fear and excitement of getting caught fighting for totality in your icy veins. his son was one of your students and students talked. if it got out that you were having an affair with johnny, this could destroy you, but there was something so arousing about the thrill.

“i’m in here. don’t open that door,” johnny said, breathless voice betraying what was happening behind that door. 

his son was far from stupid, that you knew all too well, and retorted, “dad, are you getting laid? is it the hot nurse you were flirting with at the hospital? tell her i said ‘hi.’”

you frowned.

before johnny could even get a word out, his son added, “i’m leaving. you two have the house to yourselves again.”

“bye,” johnny huffed, dropping his palm from your face. 

you inhaled sharply. you could finally breathe again.

johnny kissed the back of your neck, nibbling at your ear. “you did so good,” he whispered, voice gentle and sweet as ever. “if you beg good enough, i’ll change my mind and let you cum.”

you hopped at the opportunity like a ravenous pack of wolves starved through the winter, begging with the utmost desperation, “johnny, please. please let me cum. i’ll do anything, oh my fucking god, i need it. i need you.”

“you need me?”

so fucking bad. more than anything. “i need you,” you repeated, whinier. needier.

“cum around my dick,” johnny commanded, voice deep and throaty and just the way you liked it. you would steal a soul for him if that was what he wanted.

it wasn’t very long before one final cry of his name escaped you, pouring out of your lips like honey as you stuttered around his cock, heat spasming between your legs. tears trickled from your eyes, the stimulation from all of the orgasms you’d had in one night alone, and you couldn’t stop yourself from convulsing. your muscles slackened and your limbs went limp to your sides.

johnny was directly behind you, spurred on by the sight and feeling of you coming undone around him, and you knew when his hold on your hips tightened and that lethal growl parted his mouth that he had met his climax, the feeling of his hot cum seeping into your cunt being the unnecessary confirmation.

“good fucking girl,” johnny praised, still sweetly in your ear.

you sighed contentedly when he flipped you onto your back, sweeping you into his arms and kissing your lips as a treat. he wiped the tears out of your eyes, watching you still shudder.

“stay the night,” johnny said, looking into your hazy eyes. 

you blinked, breathing heavily to catch your breath. “johnny, you know i can’t do that. my husband will...”

“i wasn’t asking.”

“well,” you replied, quietening. “i guess i can come up with something.”

johnny smiled triumphantly, smashing his lips against yours again. you sighed again, still content, though there was a thought lurking on your mind. i don’t know what i’m going to do.

[thatscarletflycatcher]

"I do not wish to call you my friend because I hope to call you something infinitely more dear... I rode through the rain... I'd ride through worse than that if I could just hear your voice telling me that I might at least have some chance to win you... maybe it is our imperfections that make us perfect for one another. Marry me? Marry me, my wonderful, darling friend."

"But you... you were not deceived, were you? You held to what you knew in your heart. Constant, constant as the rain! What should I do if you should ever go away? My dearest Fanny."

"Fanny, I must confess something. I have loved you all my life... as a man loves a woman, as a hero loves a heroine, as I have never loved anyone in my entire life. I was so anxious to do what is right, that I forgot to do what is right. But if you choose me, after all my blundering and blindness, that will be a happiness which no description could reach."

"I would have to tell you, you have bewitched me, body and soul, and I love, I love, I love you. I never wish to be parted from you from this day on"

"First, I must tell you that I have been the most unmitigated and comprehensive ass."

"Oh, Elinor, I have longed for this moment from the instant of our first meeting, dear, dear Elinor. Would you... could you possibly... How could anyone help to love you?"

"I have come here with no expectations, only to profess, now that I am at liberty to do so, that my heart is, and always will be, yours."

"Miss Dashwood, Elinor, I came here with no expectation, after everything that has happened you have every right to turn me away this instant. But I cannot leave here without conveying the intensity of my feelings for you... Every day since I first saw you, my love for you has grown. Elinor, I have no right to hope, but I must ask: can you forgive me? Can you love me? Will you marry me?"

"I told him that I felt myself bound to you, by honor, by affection, and by a love so strong, that nothing he could do could deter me from... Before I go on I should tell you there is a pretty good chance he'll disinherit me. I fear I may never be a rich man, Catherine. Will you marry me, Catherine?"

"Miss Morland... don't be afraid. I promise not to oppress you with too much remorse, or too much passion. Though since you left us, the white rose bush has died of grief. Catherine, are you still a disgrace to your sex? Does your face express all that your heart feels, or may I hope that it holds a secret? You know that I do not need my father's permission to marry you."

[ninadove]

Nina reads Dracula 🦇

May 12th

MY GOOD FRIEND JONATHAN IS ALIVE (and going through the supernatural equivalent of a police interrogation)

First, he asked if a man in England might have two solicitors or more. I told him he might have a dozen if he wished, but that it would not be wise to have more than one solicitor engaged in one transaction, as only one could act at a time, and that to change would be certain to militate against his interest.

Do not slutshame the Count… Do not slutshame the Count…

"But," said he, "I could be at liberty to direct myself. Is it not so?"

"Of course," I replied; and "such is often done by men of business, who do not like the whole of their affairs to be known by any one person."

"Good!"

Billionaires are vampires confirmed

"Have you written since your first letter to our friend Mr. Peter Hawkins, or to any other?" (Oh oh.) It was with some bitterness in my heart that I answered that I had not, that as yet I had not seen any opportunity of sending letters to anybody.

"Then write now, my young friend," he said, laying a heavy hand on my shoulder (Oh oh…): "write to our friend and to any other; and say, if it will please you, that you shall stay with me until a month from now." (OH OH.)

"Do you wish me to stay so long?" I asked, for my heart grew cold at the thought.

"I desire it much; nay, I will take no refusal. When your master, employer, what you will, engaged that someone should come on his behalf, it was understood that my needs only were to be consulted. I have not stinted. Is it not so?"

MR PETER HAWKINS SIR DID YOU SELL YOUR INTERN TO THE COUNT

They were all of the thinnest foreign post, and looking at them, then at him, and noticing his quiet smile, with the sharp, canine teeth lying over the red underlip, I understood as well as if he had spoken that I should be careful what I wrote, for he would be able to read it. So I determined to write only formal notes now, but to write fully to Mr. Hawkins in secret, and also to Mina, for to her I could write in shorthand, which would puzzle the Count, if he did see it.

HELL YES YOU GUYS WERE RIGHT ABOUT THE SHORTHAND. LOVE SAVES THE DAY (maybe probably hopefully)

"Let me advise you, my dear young friend—nay, let me warn you with all seriousness, that should you leave these rooms you will not by any chance go to sleep in any other part of the castle. It is old, and has many memories, and there are bad dreams for those who sleep unwisely. Be warned! Should sleep now or ever overcome you, or be like to do, then haste to your own chamber or to these rooms, for your rest will then be safe. But if you be not careful in this respect, then"—He finished his speech in a gruesome way, for he motioned with his hands as if he were washing them. I quite understood; my only doubt was as to whether any dream could be more terrible than the unnatural, horrible net of gloom and mystery which seemed closing around me.

Oh great! It gets worse!!!

I have placed the crucifix over the head of my bed—I imagine that my rest is thus freer from dreams; and there it shall remain.

YOU FOOL KEEP IT AROUND YOUR NECK

I am beginning to feel this nocturnal existence tell on me. It is destroying my nerve. I start at my own shadow, and am full of all sorts of horrible imaginings.

“I’m going to get a good grade in abusive behaviour, which is both normal to want and possible to achieve” — Count Dracula, circa 1897

I did not see the face, but I knew the man by the neck and the movement of his back and arms. In any case I could not mistake the hands which I had had so many opportunities of studying.

His sharp canines and general assholery have bewitched my good friend Jonathan body and soul

But my very feelings changed to repulsion and terror when I saw the whole man slowly emerge from the window and begin to crawl down the castle wall over that dreadful abyss, face down with his cloak spreading out around him like great wings.

What manner of man is this, or what manner of creature is it in the semblance of man? I feel the dread of this horrible place overpowering me; I am in fear—in awful fear—and there is no escape for me; I am encompassed about with terrors that I dare not think of...

MINA HELP COME GET YOUR MAN

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[siriuslygay1981]

Word count: 1,818 | Jegulus

Regulus was a weak weak man, how he became so feeble minded, he'll never know.

His eyes unconsciously trail over to the mop of brown hair that rests against the arm of the sofa. It had to be uncomfortable, he was sure the gryffindors neck would hurt for the rest of the day. He resists the urge to be soft and go get a pillow or something ridiculous.

Regulus slowly put his book down, not bothering to save his page, he didn't see the point. He probably wouldn't be back to finish the book anyways, which was a shame he had just gotten to the part where she rejected his proposal.

"You are mistaken, Mr.darcy, if you suppose that the mode of your declaration affected me in any other way, than as it spared the concern which i might have felt in refusing you, had you behaved in a more gentlemanlike manner…” he had murmured the words softly as he read it, careful not to speak too loudly with the faintly snoring boy next to him.

James had long since fallen asleep, his once gasping breaths now slow and even. James had somewhat acted how he expected when discovering the wretched truth..but he had surprised him in still staying. With the dark mark he knew he wouldn't make it out of this war alive..no matter what side won because he would not stay by the mad man he once idolized and the light side, as many called them, would surely never accept him, nor he them if he was honest. It was too much to get into so late in the war, he had chosen his side and he had no choice but to stick with it. He couldn't just switch sides as if this was some silly kids game.

He knew how the tattered book ended, he had read it a total of three times already. He remembers the first time, the late nights spent under his covers behind the closed curtains of his bed. Night after night he spent reading the pages, enraptured by the words that glided right off the page and pulled him in.

He remembers all the feelings that came with it.

The nights spent reading it had him longing for something, at first he couldn't place it but he knew what it was the second time around, the realization making him almost physically ill. He wasn't alone the second time through.

James would softly read the words to him as he swept his fingers gently up and down his arm leaving goosebumps behind and an aching burning need deep in his bones.

James didn't know how much power he had over Regulus, it was absolutely terrifying.

Sometimes it felt like he was bursting at the seams with the affection he held for the older boy

One night, as James was reading a chapter aloud, his hand absentmindedly running along his chest, he started to get closer to a certain passage.

Regulus’ already thumping heart seemed to speed up and stutter, his ears tuning into the deep voice.

He wasn't sure if he could handle james saying these next words, he gulped and looked up to the gryffindor who turned the page softly and continued. He glanced down at Regulus with a small smile, his voice lifting slightly.

Regulus let his eyes trail over the exposed skin before him. He trailed his eyes across the bump in his nose, his long eyelashes, his full lips, slowly trailing down to his throat and back up to the brown eyes he knew so well. He inhaled the scent that surrounded him, some earthy scent that always seemed to cling to the boy, like damp earth, sleekeazy’s, his cedar scented body wash.

His hearing tuned in again as if it knew the words were coming up

“You have bewitched me body and soul,-” he could hear James’ breath hitch as he read the next words, his mouth opening and closing before he continued to the next line

“and I love” he sounded breathless and Regulus could not for the life of him take his eyes off of him, his whole body attuning to James. He could barely exist in the same room with the stupid lovely boy, his heart raced, his mind blanked…he was a fool. A fool who just like the rest of Hogwarts, fell for the mischievous grin and large ego.

“I love, I love you.” his voice was husky and Merlin and Morgana both, Regulus was gone. He felt like he would physically spontaneously explode. Like all this…this thing inside of him was going to burst and he felt so overwhelmed, so full, he felt as if he was bathing in sunlight, the heated rays warming his body and heart. Anything James wanted…Regulus would do.

“And wish from this day forth never to be parted from you.” James paused, his eyes not leaving the book.

It was silent, tension filling the air.

Regulus slowly reached up for the book and immediately let it fall out of his hands and onto the floor, his body twisting as he sat up and removed his head from James’ lap. James frowned at the loss of contact but he zeroed in on regulus as he sat on his knees next to him.

Regulus reached forward his finger brushing against James’ cheek, like James couldn't help it, he sighed in content a shiver wracking his body.

Regulus let a small smile grace his lips, he never got over how responsive James was.

He cupped his face and rubbed his thumb over the beauty mark near his eye without really thinking about it.

James’ mouth parted, his eyes opening and staring at Regulus as if he was the only thing that mattered. He's sure neither would have noticed if the world was ending around them.

James leant forward, one hand coming up to grasp Regulus’ wrist

“Reg-”

He cut his memory off abruptly, he couldn't do this now. He softly lifts James’ feet off his lap and stretches.

He makes quick work of his last ends to be tied up. His mind drifted away and back as he wrote. He had to force himself to focus, begging himself to just get this over with. Dwelling on it longer than he had to only brought pain.

To the Dark Lord he starts, his hands trembling terribly.

I know I will be dead long before you read this. He resolutely didn't look at the sleeping form of James, he didn't dare let himself think of anyone else either.

but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret. I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can.

Strong all consuming rage filled him. He had to do this. He was doing it…but he still hated the bastard. Regulus forces himself to calm down before he continues to write

I face death in the hope that when you meet your match you will be mortal once more.

Gulping he dips his quill in some more ink before signing off.

R.A.B.

Angrily…he hopes the dark Lord figures out it was him….beneath that he hopes he never finds out.

He lets the note dry before shoving it into the fake locket and standing up. The heavy metal sets against his chest as he inhales a shaky breath. It burns against his skin, his heart thumps wildly.

“You have bewitched me body and soul” he murmurs as he kneels in front of the sleeping boy's form. He brushes a strand of hair out of James’ face, his heart aching as James’ nose scrunches up

“And I love…I love..i love you. And wish from this day forth never to be parted from you.” he murmurs the last bit almost sardonically

He stands up, ready to leave and meet his end-

A hand grabs his wrist as he turns causing him to gasp at the unexpected contact.

“Are you really trying to leave after confessing your love to me?” a incredulous raspy voice asks

Regulus purses his lips and begs the blush on his face isn't noticeable

“I don't know what you mean Potter” he almost cringes at how obvious he is.

He clears his throat and turns back to the now awake man

“Let go, i have places to be..” he tries to sound stern but it sounds weak to his ears

“No, i don't know what you plan on doing but I know you…and I know that you are about to do something stupid..i also know you will not be going alone.” James stands up slowly his hand never leaving Regulus’ wrist

“I'm not taking you with me, James.” he whispers

He keeps his face blank, his eyes hard, he tries to sound stern. His voice wavering betrays him though.

He's afraid.

James softens slightly but shakes his head and grabs both of Regulus’ hands

“I'm not giving you a choice. You're not going alone”

Regulus glares at James and tugs his hands free, suddenly very angry.

“I'm not giving you a choice James Potter, i'm going.” he gulps at James’ expression and barely stops himself from reaching out

“Kreacher will be with me, i won't be alone.” he adds because he's weak

“Not enough-” James says harshly “That's not enough. I'm coming with you.”

They stare into each other's eyes neither wanting to back down. Regulus scowls, his eyebrows pinching together. James stays still, determined not to lose. Regulus was surprised at James' determination, usually he would have given up by now. Giving into Regulus’ harsh gaze, not wanting to push Regulus away or make him upset.

Regulus goes over a dozen stunning spells in his mind as James stares at him both pleadingly and sternly He crumbles for a moment, his face scrunching up in despair.

“Please.” he whispers hoarsely

Regulus is a terribly weak man. His walls crumble to the floor, his heart clenching painfully. Against everything he knows he should do…he wants to agree. He likes to think it took him longer than a split second before answering.

“Ok”

the word is out of his mouth before he can fully decide but by then it's too late. He's sure it would've ended this way no matter what he did, James potter made him a weak man and it shows. Mostly when that blinding smiles hits regulus and his knees almost give out

He lets out a shaky breath, his eyes glued to the brightly smiling man in front of him.

“But if you don't do as I say…I'll stun you and tie you up before leaving you in the forbidden forest-” he spits out viciously

James just brushes one of his curls out of his face tucking it behind his ear, a soft smile on his lips.

“Alright..” he murmurs

His hand stays there unreasonably long, neither notice.

[ackerfics]

FAMILY LINE — a house of the dragon fanfiction | aegon ii targaryen x oc

act zero: the prince and the siren (wc: 1.3k) | masterlist

note: oh, and i forgot to mention, there is past daemon x oc in this oops | this is also posted on ao3

Ink on olden paper says two children were born from a great love that shook the realm.

A dragon rained fire, mountains were threatened, men were slayed — all were stepping stones to a hand being asked in marriage, to a union witnessed by the Fourteen Flames and the Seven themselves. The heavens rejoiced, sang their choruses high in the clouds bathed in ever-golden rays, as they blessed the kiss that bound their souls, bodies, and hearts into a single entity, as seen in every birth of their blood — the midnight hall shattered, igniting the spectacle of celestial bodies every pair of eyes marvelled at and years later, the most tumultuous of storms, carpeting the land with the most vibrant shade of viridian that lasted moons on end.

The Rogue Prince and The Siren of the Vale.

Daemon Targaryen and Aellara Arryn.

Every story started with a bold declaration.

For someone who loathed the jadedness of the Vale, Daemon found himself enthralled with the enigma of The Siren of the Vale who was rumoured to be the most bewitching woman to exist in this age, having only heard reminiscent tales from his good-sister, Aemma Targaryen, and songs spread from the mouths of bards. Men would trek the highest mountains to reach Eyrie in hopes of catching a single glimpse of the veiled beauty. It was the very reason why he blatantly rejected his grandmother’s impending proposal to a Bronze Bitch he wouldn’t dare touch in this lifetime, with that fucking sneer on her face as if he was the dirt and she was the god. If only he could shovel her face into the dirt and be done with it. Instead, he longed for the object of everyone’s desire, and that was the youngest child of the House that boasted a falcon for their sigil. Having The Siren by his side would surely sway the public’s favour to lean more toward his side. It would mean ensuring his place as his brother’s Heir; she is of Targaryen blood after all. To have the woman of everyone’s dreams as the Queen Consort would give him the power he never thought Daemon had, which had him singing prayers to the gods he believed in even though he wasn’t a pious man.

With no potential bride linking to him since The Good Queen Alyssane nearly betrothed him to Rhea Royce, Daemon had all the freedom a young man could ever want and need. Pleasure houses were frequented (he had more lovers than any of the noblemen combined — probably even had bastards running around), lands were flown over by the Blood Wyrm, and positions were given to him by his brother (all of which never actually reached a moon at most — fucking Hightower cunt). He had it all. But all it took was a little slip through one of the towers of Eyrie while on dragonback and he was back to the first tile.

There was no other reason for him to propose a marital union with one of the Arryn daughters than to solidify his claim on the throne.

That was all.

There was nothing captivating with the periwinkle blues owned by such a woman of ethereal enchantment. He didn’t trail his eyes from the effortless waves of her white gold hair (every piece of ornament she tangled with her tresses was pure art) down to the pleasing curves that couldn’t be concealed with her flowing dress. (It was almost like the Maiden was born in the realm; Daemon nearly groaned in front of Eyrie’s family seat). His mind wasn’t occupied with conjuring the most sinful images concerning the young woman — he didn’t picture out mapping a constellation of red peonies on her skin or tasting the drink of the gods she very much possessed. Of course, he didn’t gulp down an unnecessary collection of nervousness down his throat when she placed her godly gaze on his worshipping, undivided attention. Fuck, she was so beautiful that he was now covering his crotch with linked hands. Her father was talking yet their joined eye contact sent an impulse of static energy, just enough for The Rogue Prince to feel a jolt down his spine.

But he wasn’t the only man this ambitious to steal the Maiden from her heart and home.

“Prove that you’re devoted to taking my daughter’s hand under your protection, Your Highness. Prove that you are a worthy man of my greatest treasure.”

Bloodshed reigned; there was a battle between the suitors of Aellara Arryn. It was almost called a tourney if not for the condition that for a victor to emerge, the opponent must be decapitated and unable to make a sound except for noises of demise. And with too much blood on his hands, Daemon Targaryen walked away from the bodies as the winner, hastily taking a single stem of a sapphire rose from a jittering squire and (surprisingly) placing it behind Aellara’s right ear with the tenderness befitting a man ensnared by the most dangerous curse known to the realm (but not before making sure there wasn’t a single drop of blood on her skin; as much as he loved seeing blood on someone’s skin, it was almost a crime to see it on hers). Daemon crowned Aellara as the Queen of Love and Beauty without being told to, seven Hells, this trial for her hand in marriage wasn’t even a tourney needing a beautiful woman to be crowned. Yet he did it anyway. All to sway her to his side.

But was it really?

He found his breath hitching when Aellara smiled. It was seeing the glory of Old Valyria right in front of his eyes. His chest pounded against his will as she lifted a dainty hand, a handkerchief in between her hold, and dabbed it on one of the blood splatters on his cheek, erasing a sign of his ruthlessness with her divinity. The shade of blue owned by the rose contrasted deeply with her blonde hair, lighting up the shine innate in the periwinkle hues of her eyes. She was a fucking vision and he never desired anything more in his life until he met her.

With the Siren out of the chambers of her House’s seat, Daemon Targaryen wed Aellara Arryn at the beginning of the 105th year After the Conquest in the ways of the Seven and Old Valyria.

The premise of this romance was worthy of ballads yet it was the start of something so cruelly beautiful for one of them.

From wailing a loss of a person so dear that a large part of your soul broke away; going away because of a loved one’s exile; bearing the heir of the Prince of Dragonstone and relishing in the cocoon of appreciation in enveloped you; gaining two stolen dragon eggs for the twin babes; watching the love of your life flying to war while giving birth under the shattering night sky; suffering the betrayal of your husband’s unfaithfulness and disloyalty, breaking every bit of the vows made in front of fourteen pairs of eyes; to accepting yourself leaving this world in the same way it took your sister.

And it left behind three children with no titles, no protection, no family — it was the world against their little faces, so naive at the slimy fingers of faux niceties and always on the receiving end of reptilian smiles and hollow pity. The hourglass is letting the sand trickle in, waiting for the moment the scavengers pluck out the lingering, pulsing ache that will never be forgiven and forgotten. Because all the while The Rogue Prince created another bubble of domesticity across the seas, a son grew up too soon, a daughter stepped up to become the caretaker, and a young babe never had the chance of a complete family.

rory speaks !!

the reason why this sort-of prologue is so short despite carrying so many things is bc daemon and aellara are not the main focus of this story. i wanted to give a glimpse as to what is the nature of the main characters' parents' relationship; the main thing summarising everything is that daemon is a huge whore and is power-hungry for the title that given to him ... so, poor aellara. and having her die from childbirth is another thing to add to daemon's suffering bc this man has seen enough of it to last a lifetime (his mother, his sister-in-law, wife, and future wife; don't know how he keeps fathering children when this is what he experienced yikes). another reason why this is short is bc we're mostly seeing the events play out in the kids' (aesira, aether, aegon, and aemond; the furious ae's) eyes so, the information is limited when it reaches the twins' ears. bc let's face it, we always sugarcoat things when we tell a little bit of info to kids.

damn, and i had to post it here; let me prepare myself for the backlash woo

[nnnnotebook-and-glasses]

700 ish words about imagining Elliot from Stardew Valley as Mr. Darcy. Inspired by artwork by @crispyanonart , found here: https://www.tumblr.com/crispyanonart/747778892890243072/elliott-mr-darcy-because-it-fits-so-good?source=share

It's not the exact scene from Pride and Prejudice of course but pretty close. Im also posting on ao3 later :)

And I love, I love, I love you.

You had only just left your farm, deciding to take the normal path into town. Walking through the final stretch of woods that clears up into the bus stop. You were drenched already from the rain, and any normal person would be safe from it inside.

And there you saw him, walking towards you, like he had such an important mission nothing would stand in his way. He always walked with confidence, or maybe it was pride, but the way he was walking now you knew something was different. His eyes locked onto yours and he didn’t look away.

You couldn’t help but blink away some of the rain that made it’s way into your eyes, but his didn’t leave. Almost like he was entranced by you?

You came to a stop, waiting for what he would say, what he would do.

He kept approaching until he was a mere few feet in front of you. There was something about him, something familiar about his expression in a way you couldn’t place. He stared for a moment, and you felt a need to speak first.

“You’re not usually out this early.” You didn’t see him up this early, and you didn’t see him around the bus stop.

“I know, usually I stay in my cabin for a few more hours. But I, I wanted to talk with you.”

You were reminded of the last time you had seen this expression, when he asked you to marry him. Something you had hastily denied, a bit scared and still holding a dislike for him. It was only two seasons ago, and it was fall now. That was when you saw this expression, and you could only assume what he was going to say next.

And as he talked, your entire focus went to him, it had a way of doing that.

“You are too generous to trifle with me. I believe you spoke with Leah last night and it has taught me to hope as I’d scarcely allowed myself to before.” Elliot paused, and a bird in the distance chirped. “If your feelings are still what they were in Spring, tell me so at once.”

“My affections and wishes have not changed. But one word from you will silence me forever.”

Shocked, and nervous you stood there quietly. Wondering to yourself, had they? You knew the answer already.

“If however,” Elliot stepped forward, “your feelings have changed I would have to tell you,”

How had this happened already you wondered, taking in the softness of his voice and they way the rain gently hit the two of you.

“you have bewitched me body and soul, and I love, I love, .. I love you. And wish from this day forth never to be parted from you.”

Elliot looked so good standing in the rain, confessing to you like this. He was a writer through and through, always so good with his words. But there’s a difference in writing something, and meaning something. And the way he spoke, like it was a secret. Like he had to pry it from his own heart just to be able to tell you that he loves you. The way he spoke made you believe him, every single word.

He’s a writer, but he’s also a man. A man in love with you. You. A man confessing to you with so much emotion it makes your heart soar. It makes your soul soar.

You had changed and grown as a person so much these last two seasons, and you knew that in this moment your feelings for him are the strongest they’d ever been.

Slowly you took a step forward, reaching to take one of his hands in yours.

“Well then.” your voice was the softest you had heard it in years. Gently you brought his hands to your lips, softly kissing them.

“Your hands are cold,” and they were. The rain had gotten to him.

Blinking rapidly he gave a small nod, you could see the confusion and hope in his eyes. You leaned towards him again.

Elliot leaned down, his other hand pressingly gently against your warm face. Your foreheads touched each other and the tender moment made you shut your eyes, a bit helplessly. You waited for him, for what he would do. You wanted to know.

And Elliot didn’t disappoint as a few moments went by until he leaned down more and his lips softly met your own.

[noroi1000]

could a gojo x (demoness)reader be requested where basically gojo n reader are uni students and are couples but reader is secretly suicidal so she unalives herself in this abandoned place where a soul of a demoness finds her n possesses reader's body so now the demoness in reader's body is the reader (?) and she basically gets the reader's memories and finds out about gojo and the next day she goes to uni with him like always but gojo is slowly observing changes in her like now reader's beauty has more of a demonic n bewitching aura n twist to it ( jennifer check inspired ) and reader's personality is flawlessly confident ( which gojo is more than ok w ) but there are other changes w her such reader used to be shy but now she's the one making him shy instead , then she says demonic things like it's normal and is just so bold , fearless and so much different and now she has a terrifyingly powerful of a lethal beauty sort of and gojo accidentally finds it out all when he witnesses reader feeding on a boy ( ya bcs she's a demon obvi she needs to once in a while ) and gojo confronts her so she basically tells the truth but says she doesn't wanna kill him bcs he looks cute but gojo becomes distant bcs it's not the one he used to love and she gets it but he just can't help but give in to her. ( i'm very much ok with smut but make it really sensual n romantic if u add it lakskksks 😋) this is quite an unusual dark romance request i guess so it's ok if u don't do it :)) but i'd like to confess i love ur writings ( a fan of ur "Love you" oneshot i think , it was so nicely written ! and ur series r great as well ! )

Demonic Love

Cover by @blvckryx, thank you very much again ❤️

Paring: Gojo x demoness reader

Words: 4,6k

Warnings: heavy angst, smut, blood, demon, abandoned place, suicide, bullying, broken heart 💔

You loved Satoru, he loved you. However, many did not want you to be together. You've been mistreated. And for the sake of your beloved, you decided to end it all... You got a second chance. You have become a demon...

A demon with no appearance. No feelings, no speech, no body. It's just a levitating human figure that has nothing. Such a demon is just a ghost. Which can possess the human body and thus cut through appearance, behavior and all memories.

However, there was something different about the behavior of a man who died and then came back to life with a demon inside him.

It was not that after a person died and something took over his body, someone's soul had already left that body. People will not become a soul that has been banished by another.

Once this type of demon enters a human body, it merges with a human.

He gets a second life, but as a different person.

Other behavior. It is as if someone from the fusion of two creatures appeared in the same place.

The demon gains flesh and life. Two people make one demonic person. Even though it will be someone who will be the same as someone who died.

It's the same person, but with a different character. Looks the same, talks the same. He is the same someone.

Everything is identical, but sometimes there are demonic behaviors.

People who loved a person before being possessed by a demon cannot be accused of betrayal in love. It's still the same person.

The demon takes over all the feelings of man.

So the demon loves the person he loved with the person in whose body he lives.

So with that thought, you can live like that.

Since others don't want you to be with Satoru, maybe someone else can be with him...

You were a happy couple. For three years already.

From first grade at your university. You just fell in love. And no one could tell you otherwise.

Your love has deepened so much. You were so happy.

You spent time together, you went on dates. Where one of you was, then the other appeared as well. You were always together.

You were satisfied with your life.

You were smiling with love.

However, that love was connected to your pain.

You loved him so much, but that love got you into trouble.

Satoru was very popular with the girls. Ever since you're his girlfriend, you've been hit with hate. People started mistreating you.

Just because you're the girlfriend of the boy they like.

And these groups of girls who think they have a lot of power in school are hitting on you so they can get him and his friends as boyfriends.

You were always quiet and shy. And that was something that captivated Satoru.

You were so lovely to him. So sweet and nice. You always smiled at him. He just fell in love with it.

You were a simple girl who never tried to impress him. But you were nice when he wanted to talk to you. It was nice for him.

First friends, then he took a step closer, proposing that he be your boyfriend.

He knew you were shy to tell him anything first. So he didn't even think, and he told you his true feelings.

You have been a happy couple for so many years.

Even though there have been so many unhappy moments in your life that make you sick of this life...

For example, bullying you. Putting you down and ordering you to stop being his girlfriend.

You were threatened, you were beaten, your things and clothes were destroyed. You were even threatened with a knife.

They abused you every time your boyfriend or one of his friends wasn't around.

They even told you that if you say one word about it, they will destroy your life. That they will kill you. They'll do something terrible for Satoru and blame it on you.

You don't want him hurt...

If you had ended it yourself... It would have been better for him. He wouldn't have been hurt so much.

That day you came to visit him unexpectedly.

Knocking on the door of his house, you stood there trying to smile.

Even though you had other plans anyway.

There was something in your handbag that you will always remember. Until the end of life.

So until tonight...

When he opened the door for you, he was happy and you came to him.

You cooked dinner together. You ate it together.

You watched movies that you like to watch together.

You were only thinking about how best to spend your last moments with him.

Your last moments of life...

To give him one last evening with you.

You cuddled up to him. You kissed him gently.

Your hands held him close as you felt pleasure flooding your body. You spent hours giving him a pleasant evening.

Satisfying his needs. Hearing him say "I love you."

Every time you heard it, you cried. You were glad he could mistake those tears for tears of pleasure when he fucked you.

You wanted to smile.

But all you could do was kiss him and hug him.

You couldn't smile thinking that this is the last evening you see him...

In the night, you freed yourself from his grip as they slept together.

Stopping your body from making sounds as you cried, you placed a sheet of paper on his laptop. Together with a flower. Once he wanted to be romantic, and he bought a flower he liked to give it to you.

You remember it like it was yesterday.

You put the same flower on a leaf.

Suppressing sobs, you quickly left his bedroom and walked down the hall to the kitchen.

Wiping your tears away with your hand, you walked in the dark to the kitchen counter where the knife rack stood.

You grabbed the plastic handle and pulled it out.

Stowing it into your purse, you headed for the exit door, shedding a few tears before leaving.

Saying goodbye to him forever.

With this house.

With these memories.

With his smile.

You left your belongings with him that day. Your phone, your wallet, and this note.

You also left with him the heart that you have always given to him. For love of him.

You left him moments that he can reminisce about in his life.

And you won't be able to mention it in yours.

How can you mention something in something you don't have?

When you finally found the right place where no one would see you, you walked in.

Wandering around the abandoned house, you looked at the floors and dirty walls. On furniture that was broken.

You turned on the flashlight you had with you.

The electricity in this house was working, and it surprised you very much.

You were tired of your two-hour walk to this place. You wanted to lie down and sleep.

You turned on the light on the old cabinet as you sat in the corner of what was most likely a bedroom once. Before this house was abandoned.

Finding a comfortable position, you looked at the picture of you and Satoru you've been holding since your 1st year at university.

You hugged the picture to your chest, crying. You let out a loud sob for the first time that night. For the first time that night, you allowed yourself to show your anguish by screaming.

Hugging a piece of paper, you didn't even have the strength to get rid of tears.

You wanted your suffering to end once and for all.

You always wanted to be happy.

You always wanted someone to love you.

But when you loved someone and he loved you, others didn't want it.

Everyone will always do anything to push you away from your love...

And if Satoru saw you suffer because of others, he would suffer.

Therefore, when you are done suffering, he will never have to experience it.

What matters is that he accepts the loss. It's important that he forgives you...

It's important that he forgets what happened between you...

You felt as if your hot tears were starting to turn cold.

As if you were cold...

His warmth was not with you.

But at least you saw his smile that evening. Last time...

You started to cry even more at the thought.

Your vision has become blurry. Your throat was only able to let out screams and moans.

You weren't lonely, but you were.

You just want Satoru to forgive you for what you're about to do now...

Your soul may be eaten by demons, but you don't want Satoru to suffer seeing you suffer.

With trembling, sweaty hands, you grabbed the knife you had taken from his house.

And slowly moved closer to your wrist.

And when you moved your other hand hard once, you hoped Satoru would forgive you...

You weren't with him when he woke up.

You were nowhere.

Your phone was in his room. All the things you always thought were important were there.

But there was not one, the most important.

You weren't in his room. In his house. Next to him.

As he slowly took clean clothes from his dresser, he noticed something strange.

Something else on his desk.

Something he knew he wasn't putting there.

He grabbed a thin stalk, which had become limp from the lack of water.

And the white and pink geranium flower was not as beautiful as when it is freshly plucked.

His eyes looked intently at the piece of paper that lay under a small plant.

A piece of paper that had a different color in one place. Just like someone spilled in this place...

Drops of tears?

He picked up the paper and his breath stopped for a moment when he saw your handwriting.

A card with a note from you that's stained with tears?

How could he think something normal in such a situation?

And as he read the contents of the note, his lips quivered.

His eyes filled with tears for a moment.

He started breathing faster.

And when he finished reading, he looked at the little heart you drew next to the words "forget about me".

As the note fell to the floor, the only sound in the room was the closing of the door.

Walking down the hall, then along the kitchen, he looked around briefly.

But he stopped when he saw one knife missing from the wooden stand.

And he was sure that yesterday it must have been there...

Your shoes weren't there. There was nothing of yours.

The knife is gone.

And what you wrote in the note was a perfect indication of what was about to happen.

Running out of the house, he held back the tears that were about to pour out of his eyes.

You left home a long time ago.

There was no trace of you anymore.

You've already disappeared...

„Satoru, I will disappear from your life. You are not the reason. I am the reason. Because I wasn't good enough for you. I love you and I will always love you. But if you're reading this, I'm already gone. I'm glad that tonight I could see your smile for the last time and hear you say you love me. It was wonderful for me to spend all these moments with you. But I know it will never happen again. I hope you will forgive me all this. Especially since we'll never see each other again.

I love you. (y/n).

Forget about me ♡”

He looked everywhere and you were nowhere...

You left.

For ever.

And with you his happiness...

"I heard that (l/n) left, and she doesn't want to come back. Gojo-kun~ need comfort?"

He felt a warm hand on his shoulder.

Something he liked when you did it.

However, from your hand he could no longer feel...

He slapped the girl's hand away from him.

He started walking down the corridor.

"Hey! I offer you the comfort of your sad heart. She couldn't be that important to you. She-"

Suddenly, the girl saw a fist that flies in front of her face, and with a loud bang hits a metal cabinet, right next to her head.

She looked at the furious face of the white-haired boy.

"Shut up..." he growled menacingly, making unpleasant, cold shivers run all over the girl's body. Which formed a feast as if ice needles were sticking into her. Causing tremendous chill.

He turned away, ignoring the dent in the cupboard, which wasn't that small.

And he also didn't look at his bleeding hand, which suffered when he made such an indentation into the metal

"Satoru."

He looked up when he saw his best friend.

He didn't say anything.

He hasn't said a word since yesterday. Apart from curses.

His mind was filled with only images of you.

And the questions... "Why?"

"It's (y/n)..." Geto said with wide eyes as he panted. Because he ran all over the big university building to find his white-haired friend.

As soon as he heard your name, his eyes lit up.

And without question he ran ahead. Into the courtyard at the main gate.

He saw a gathering of people. Mostly girls.

He was frantically looking for your familiar face. So that he can see your beauty again. So that he can hug you and kiss you.

He widened his eyes when he saw someone pushing through the crowd, brutally shoving everyone away.

While the crystal blue turned glassy with tears.

They think he's lost you forever.

However, something was different here...

It all happened yesterday.

Today...

You...

You were so confident. Your moves were very bold. You walked ahead, not looking if people were in front of you. They were supposed to make way for you. not you them.

And he liked your behavior. You looked so beautiful when you were confident. You weren't cute. You were beautiful...

Something has changed here...

But...

But most importantly, it was you...

He stood there, petrified with relief and happiness.

And when you saw him, your confidence suddenly evaporated, turning to tears as you ran towards him and jumped into his arms.

You don't remember what happened. You didn't feel completely yourself.

You remember clearly that that (y/n) last night, at 3am, cut her entire wrist with a knife. And crying, she bled out slowly.

Then you woke up. You are also (y/n). But you feel that your strengths are different.

That you've changed a bit.

Now for you was that (y/n), and now it's you.

You were connected to the demon that was born in that house, and without the body, it couldn't get out of there.

A demon with nothing that wanted flesh.

(y/n) died.

You are a demon living in this body who, the moment it entered the body, gave her a second life.

The demon took over all the features she had.

Creating you. (y/n). The second, same incarnation of her, but demonic.

It's like you have a second life.

You are the same person. Only your soul is different.

But one thing never changes.

You still love Gojo Satoru so much.

Crying into his shoulder, you held him so tight.

"Promise you'll never do that to me again..." he moaned, staving off tears as he closed his eyes and hugged you.

"... I promise..." you murmured with a broken voice as you didn't want to let him go.

He saw the first changes in your body as you sat next to him, resting your head on his shoulder as you watched the first-year struggling.

You hugged his hand and he admires your new beauty. You bandaged his bleeding hand without a moment's hesitation from the blood.

Your hips were even more tempting to him. Just like your breasts. There was something about your whole body that drew him to you so much.

And your face... Your features were as perfect as before. Charming and beautiful.

But there was something in the styling of dangerous beauty. The soft and kind face remained that way. But your features seemed a little sharper. Your lips so tempting, soft and juicy. It tempted him to sink his lips into yours. Suck and bite. Kiss.

Your eyes were still so beautiful. They exuded a certain innocence. But they were also slightly sharper. Which caused some innocence to leak out of them. And there was a dangerous glow in them.

Your aura was darker. So captivating.

Your sweet, kind, but also slightly threatening giggle echoed in his skull as he held you close and looked at what you were laughing at.

"What are you laughing at, honey?" he asked kissing your forehead tenderly. He's been sitting like this with you ever since he saw you again. He never left your side. He was always close to you.

"This guy is completely lost..." you murmured with a small smile. "He's so nervous. That's funny."

"Hmm?"

"His nervousness and fear of this place are captivating, don't you think?"

"Captivating?" He asked.

"Yes..." you murmured softly. You felt that you were already satisfied with the negative emotions. And you returned to your docile self that loved to keep him very close.

"What do you mean?" he asked again, pulling away for a moment.

"I feel satisfied when I see someone's negative feelings, Toru. Feeding my emotions on other people's negative emotions keeps me from feeling it."

You said with a smile. Hugging him gently, again.

"What's wrong with you (y/n)? You've never been like this... Laughing at people, being so brave... It wasn't something you did."

"Anyone can change when someone pushes you to the abyss of despair where all you think about is the possibility of ending your suffering." You said and suddenly reached for his face.

You placed your hand on his cheek smiling.

"You're like my handsome, charming prince, you know? You always make me happy."

Hearing these words, he blushed slightly.

You never said anything to shame HIM.

"Something's not right here, (y/n)..."

"What is it, Toru?"

"You act completely different... You look different. What you do is different. You would never laugh at anyone. You would never push people so you could go. Your behavior towards me has hardly changed, however, you are different than you were a few days ago. How is this possible?"

You looked at him.

You stopped smiling as you put your head down.

"How did you get interested in that letter I left you?"

"What does it have to do with it?"

"Were you able to forget me?"

"... of course not..."

"What if I told you that I killed myself?"

He widened his eyes and looked at you questioningly.

"No... It's not possible. Now here you are next to me. Touching me. Talking to me. You never died."

"People didn't want me to exist because I took you from them..."

"No..." he said and got up from the bench.

"Toru..."

"It's not true... You would tell me that... Even though you look like her, talk like her and do everything like her, you can't be my same (y/n)..."

"Satoru... I died..." you told him sadly. "But now I can be in front of you because a demon descended into my soul that existed in the house where I died..."

"You really are a demon..." he muttered.

"Yeah... But I love you so much. Same as before..." you said sadly. "I never want to hurt you. You're cute and so lovely... Even if I'm a demon... I don't want anything to happen to you... "

"You're a demon... You're not the one I used to love...

"I understand you... I understand that you don't want to believe me... that you don't think I'm that person. That you don't love me..."

"I... I don't know anything anymore... But I know you're not the girl I loved all those years..." he muttered softly and started to walk slowly, with a sad face. And a terrible feeling tearing his heart apart.

You got up as he started walking away.

Tears suddenly flowed from your eyes.

"Satoru... I understand that you loved that (y/n)... But please... Don't go... I don't want to suffer again... I don't want to be alone..." you groaned, digging your fingers into your aching chest as you held back sobs.

You want to show him that you died. And to make him believe that you are still the same person. You've only changed a bit...

And he?

It pained him to think that he was gone. That he confronted the truth, and left. Leaving you alone. sobbing.

Demons almost never cry.

But you are no ordinary demon.

You're a demon, but you were still his (y/n), right?

However, he wasn't able to tell you between classes. Because you disappeared. You weren't in the classrooms where both of you were supposed to be giving lectures.

So after the two classes he had, he left the college and went home.

Where without you it was sad and gloomy.

Yes, lifeless.

The missing knife told him something graphic had happened. But if it happened, why are you alive now?

He was so happy to see you again. He missed so much. He cried for you. He couldn't accept the fact that you could take your own life. After that night with him...

Couldn't you smile at him? Is that why you kept hugging him without saying a word? Kiss him? You kept holding him so close that he couldn't see your face.

Tears that were supposed to be tears of happiness and pleasure were actually tears of pain. Suffering. Striking despair that you couldn't accept. Because you couldn't accept the loss internally.

This love, your life.

If it wasn't for the demon in your body, he would never see you again.

He would never smile again. He could never fall in love again.

Because he would never be able to forget you.

He was sitting at the table in his kitchen. Playing with the pen that was lying there.

He knew your aura was dark now. That you're not human...

As long as it was you...

However, there was no mistake. It was you.

This demon had the same feelings for him as you had for him.

Even if you're not so shy anymore, and your behaviors were more unkind to others. You were brave, and you weren't afraid.

You weren't afraid of the people you most likely killed yourself for...

You had to be no longer human for him to understand why you were smiling so suddenly sad when he was gone.

He's seen so many times that girls who hit on him come up to you.

He knew it was bad for you. But you managed, and you kept smiling around him. It was great.

However, it got to the point where you decided to disappear from his life forever...

Even if he thought you weren't the same person he loved all along, it really was you...

He loves you so much that there is no other person in the world who will touch his heart in such a way. Never like you do.

Even though you are different as this demon, and no one can deny it, he still loves you.

It's you. You attract him to you like a magnet.

And the thought that you might have cried over what he said made him feel like a complete asshole.

Like he's making you suffer because of your love right now.

He loved you, and he couldn't leave you.

He will accept you as you are now. Because it's still you.

He got a second chance... Because if you hadn't become a demon, you wouldn't be here anymore.

He couldn't tell you that he loves you again.

Everything about you is almost the same. Your behaviors can be demonic at times. But to him, you're still the same.

Sweet, loving and kind. Showing him your feelings.

Just as you would never hurt him, just as he would never hurt you.

Even if there's a demon among you two.

When you heard a knock on your apartment door, you opened it slowly. You honestly didn't want to see anyone right now.

After all, Satoru left you...

But as soon as you opened the door, you suddenly felt something warm wrap around your body.

Your face buried in your chest as you saw the white hairs on the nape of his neck.

Your body was pressed tightly but gently.

Making you slightly melt into Satoru's embrace.

"Toru?"

"I'm sorry..."

You smiled slightly.

"Nothing happened. Everything is fine. You were entitled to it. After all, I'm not the same person anymore..."

"But I still love you. You are my (y/n)..." He murmured kissing your neck softly.

Your instigation with him was to spend an nice night with him.

Your greeting to him was an nice moment in your house.

You couldn't help but touch the other one.

You were drawn to each other.

You wanted to be as close as possible.

As you could run your fingers over his toned body, you could feel your body warming up.

That your cheeks are pink, just like his.

There aren't that many differences between your characters now.

He is shameless. Sometimes aggressive and rebellious. Even if he has good grades. There is no gulf between you now.

There are only you.

You became a demon so that you would be more similar in character.

His character only sometimes fits with demons.

That's why he doesn't mind that there was a demon between the original you and him.

He felt the very familiar softness of your body that he had adored for years. Even if the softness of your body has been preserved, your shapes have changed minimally.

Has anyone seen a demoness that isn't alluring ?

Something nice for him, he has a demoness on his lap with a beautiful body that he liked. It doesn't matter what your body might look like. It was still beautiful to him. Your demonic beauty made something more dangerous about you. From a cute little kitty, you turned into a cat that can pull out her claws.

And he liked it so much.

Even though your moans were the same as you bounced slowly on his hips, hands on his shoulders for support.

Every time he kissed you, his tongue slid over the slightly sharpened fangs in your mouth. When he shared your saliva.

Wet sounds came not only from your lips connecting, but also between your legs as he began to pull you down with his hands. Pushing your hips into his length.

You snuggled against his neck, pressing your soft breasts against his chest. Letting him move your hips.

It was the same body he could always make you shiver. Whenever you were connected during your sex.

Therefore, it doesn't matter what your character is now. How much has changed in you.

He already knows he'll be able to make his beautiful demoness tremble sitting on his cock. Make you cry with pleasure.

And this time, to make you smile at him, moan, and say his name along with the words "I love you."

Because now it will never happen that any smile will be the last one.

Even if there is a demon between you, he loves you so much. Your love is demonic.

[divaofmads]

Too Young To Love | Desperate Love Story

Divider by @saradika-graphics

Drawing by me (I'm trying to improve, please support me dear)

WARNING! : Age Gap, Pedro is 35 you are 17, No Y/N (using she/her), Fluff, Father's Best Friend, Declaration of Love, Love Story, No Sexual Things

Pedro and the young girl were in her room. The girl was tired of the burden she was carrying in her heart and felt the need to explain everything she felt to him. While everyone was gathered in the living room for the party at their house, they were sitting on the girl's bed.

"Why did you call me here?" the man asked. Instead of the mischievous smile on his face, there was seriousness.

The girl, however, looked down shyly. She didn't know how to start the subject. She had received confessions of love from boys her age many times, but this was the first time she was going to confess her love to someone. Moreover, this man was almost twice her age.

Pedro took the girl's chin between his two fingers, raised her head to look into her eyes and asked impatiently. "Is it about us?"

The girl looked at him in surprise in response to his question. She was stuttering as she spoke. She was very young, at the beginning of her life. But the man in front of her had experienced what she had experienced maybe three times. While the girl was experiencing the feeling of love for the first time, who knows how many women had he fit into his heart. "I, actually, it's about us, but more about my feelings."

The words were stuck on the her lips when Pedro spoke up.

"Before you say anything, you are aware of our age difference, right?"

The girl's voice was trembeling. She clasped her hands together at chest level as if she wanted to hide. "Is that why you've been avoiding me and my family? You're not at our place for dinner anymore."

Pedro reached out to the girl's shoulder and patted her arm. "Falling in love is the most beautiful feeling in the world, I promise you. But you're too young to fall in love, my dear."

The girl freed her arms and stood up. She stayed in front of the man and pointed to her body as she spoke. "Look at me, Pedro. Stop treating me like a child. Am I a little girl you tell scary northern tales to?"

Pedro looked the girl up and down. She had really grown up, hadn't she? Her body had developed rounded lines, she had grown taller, her face had become more feminine. But deep down he knew that his conscience was preventing him from doing this. The girl in front of him was a young girl who was only seventeen years old and just getting to know life.

"You've grown taller, but you're still a beautiful child."

The girl approached Pedro, sat on her knees, and looked up into his eyes, imploringly. "If I were, would I know what love was?"

Pedro saw the little girl in her eyes. He stroked her hair like a father giving advice, and the scent of her cherry-scented shampoo reached his nose. With a slight grin on his face, "

"No, my dear. You have a heart full of hope and enthusiasm. Please get up and hug me, just like you used to."

The girl did as he was told and sat down next to Pedro. As they stood there for a long time, Pedro admitted to himself that something had changed, just as the girl had said. She was no longer a child, just like his feelings for her have changed. He closed his eyes. He felt like he was praying as his hand touched her smooth skin. It was like thanking God to touch her. But when it came to feelings, he hid them from everyone and from her like a sin.

His arms around her waist, her hands never leaving his shoulders. While his soul was crying, his eyes were smiling with fatherly compassion.

The girl looked at the man as if she was bewitched. "I'm head over heels in love with you!"

His gaze was stern, with sadness hidden behind it. "These are temporary infatuation."

"I promise my love is eternal."

Pedro swallowed. He was afraid that if they talked any longer, he would lose control of his emotions. He replied with an angry look and a dissatisfied tone. "You are dreaming. When you become a mature woman you will realize that all these things you said were just fantasy."

The girl looked at the man with hope. "If that's all there is to it. If my ideas will change when I become a grown woman, then let us enjoy these fantasies and dreams now."

Pedro was struck by her words. Her gaze was so impressive that for a moment his lips came close to hers. But at the end of the day, she was his friend's daughter and he had treated her like a daddy in the past.

Suddenly, feeling guilty about the passionate kiss he was about to give to the girl, he removed his hands from her body and stood up.

"Oh my god, I don't understand what's happening to me. This isn't right."

The girl begged. "Don't leave me alone, stay, please!"

"Forgive me, my beauty. I can't do this to you. I can't waste your youth." If he had a chance, who knows what he would wish in order to make her happy.

The girl lay down on her bed. Every princess would fall into eternal sleep in her bed when the witch injected her with her poison. Now the man she loved had poisoned this beautiful princess with his words. And now she wanted to sleep forever. Because the days would pass quickly this way and the memories wouldn't haunt her.

Things were much harder for Pedro. No matter how devastated he was when he went down the stairs, when he got back to the party he had to act as if nothing had happened. But fate was on their side to bring them together.

[lord-aldhelm]

Aldhelm Character Analysis (and why I love him so much)

The following is a character study and my own opinions. I meant to post something like this several months ago when I started this blog, but I had so much other stuff going on I forgot about this in my drafts, so I am posting it now. I know there will be people who disagree with me, and others who maybe think I am being ridiculous or whatever, but I don't care. This is my blog and I want to share this because it is meaningful to me, and maybe perhaps it will resonate with someone. This is a kind of "about me" but mostly a rambling mess.

Aldhelm means so much to me, more than any other character in any other show or movie I have watched. I have fallen super hard for this man; he has bewitched me body and soul, and just imbedded himself into the core of my being. He is my muse, and has profoundly permeated every creative aspect of myself, from creating this blog, screencaps/edits, gifs, memes, artwork, poetry (don't ask), and fanfics. No one else has managed to do that to me. This show in general, and him specifically, have led me deep into this fandom and made me do things that I have never done before.

My attraction to him goes far beyond just him being a pretty face; my feelings for him are complex and multi-faceted. Of course I think he is exceptionally handsome, and I find everything about him attractive. But I was attracted to his personality long before I was attracted to him physically. The two go hand in hand, and it takes more than just being a hot dude to hold my attention. This show is loaded to the brim with attractive people and yet he is the only one that has captivated me.

I love him for so many reasons. To me he is absolute perfection and I would not change a single thing about his character. He is introverted, quiet, soft-spoken, and dignified. He is highly intelligent, has a calm confident demeanor, and has a great fortitude for dealing with difficult situations. He is elegant and refined, despite sometimes coming off as awkward. I love his quick wit and dry sarcastic sense of humor. I melt whenever he rolls his eyes or sighs with exasperation. He is so pure and wholesome, and loves with his whole entire being. His selfless and unwavering devotion and loyalty to both Mercia and Aethelflaed are unmatched. He sets aside his own needs and desires to serve others, ultimately to his detriment. (He deserved better in so many ways) He has many personality traits that are normally only seen in women characters, while still being very much masculine, and I find that dichotomy incredibly appealing.

Additionally, something about him triggers my nurturing instinct; I want to hold him in my arms and cuddle him for all eternity. He is so unbelievably sweet and gentle, and the way he was so soft around Aethelflaed just melted my heart. In fact. he embodies my idea of a perfect romantic partner. He is so calm, patient, understanding, eager to help out, very devoted and loyal, cares more about his partner's happiness than his own. I feel as a boyfriend or husband he would be very attentive and in tune to his partner's needs. Never arguing, or trying to avoid it as much as possible. Never raising his voice. He would go out of his way to do nice things for them just to make them happy. Acts of service, gift giving, quality time, and humor are his love languages.

But more than that, I see in him a reflection of myself, that I have not seen in any other character or real-life person, ever.

His quiet, contemplative, introverted nature, and preference for solitude matches my own. He is very Byronic/Jane Austen coded, with that brooding moody energy. Like me, he is the kind of person who dislikes bars, parties, or large gatherings of people, and prefers to keep to himself. He comes off as cold and calculating, but inside he is anything but. He is overwhelmed with emotion and allows himself to love wholly and intensely, despite not having his feelings reciprocated. Despite doing his best to hide his feelings, he actually wears his heart on his sleeve and allows others to use him just for the sake of feeling needed. He allows himself to cry, although he does so in private, not because he is ashamed, but because he wants to appear strong for others. He is the kind of person that hides the deeper parts of himself well from others, but I know that if you really got to bond with him, he would show you another side of himself, one that smiles freely and loves openly, laughs and jokes, and allows himself to be comfortable in the presence of others.

He appears to me to be demi/ace coded. I don't know if that was intentional or not, but seeing ace representation on the screen is incredibly rare and refreshing. Especially since his sexuality, or lack thereof, is never really brought up or ridiculed by the other characters (as ace-presenting people so often are in media). As someone who is demi/ace myself, I find his characterization in this way very comforting, especially since I have been ridiculed and downcast over my asexuality. I also find it delightful to see a male character who is not constantly talking about getting laid, making sex jokes, or aggressively pursuing or objectifying women. Much the opposite; he treats Aethelflaed with a level of respect and admiration that women are not often given by men. In fact he treats women in general with a lot of respect.

I feel his pain when he is ignored or his words are brushed off by others time and time again. As someone who has felt simultaneously invisible and freakishly "other" her whole life, I can identify with that strongly. I am always the one who others talk over or ignore in social settings. I have always felt like an outcast, even among my friends and peers. I never feel like I truly belong anywhere or with anyone, and have always felt like an outsider, just drifting along the perimeters of multiple social circles without ever fitting in. It is such a horrible feeling, and I empathize with him when I see him go through the exact same treatment.

I also feel his sense of uniqueness in that, like me, he is neither a leader nor a follower, but marches to the beat of his own drum. He had no desire to be Lord of Mercia even when it was offered to him (which I personally think was a mistake on his part). But I get it; I hate being in charge. I prefer to work behind the scenes and stay out of the spotlight myself. But while I am not a leader, neither am I a follower. I am always doing my own thing regardless of trendiness or popularity.

The biggest difference between him and I is that he is far more patient than I could ever be! He is much more level headed, whereas I tend to be more emotional and have a kind of firecracker reaction, especially when I am in an argument or when something upsets me. I think I would be a better person if I could learn to remain calm and collected during emotionally stressful times.

So, this is much more than me thinking the dude is super hot. And it also goes so far beyond me just thinking he is a cool and interesting character (which he is no doubt). He has actually become a permanent part of me, one that will not be replaced by the next hot thing to cross my screen. Even if I run out of things to post here (which will happen at some point), he will still occupy my thoughts, and I will still be drawing him, and writing for his character for a very long time to come.

[lady-o-ren]

FROM THE EDGE OF THE BLACK SEA

After a deadly confrontation with the Laird and Warchief of Clan Mackenzie, the last son of Lallybroch goes on a frantic search for his one true love, praying he isn't too late . . .

//

Jamie's found his runaway heart in the ruins of an old abbey by the sea.

He swings his long leg from off his great stallion's back and crosses what's left of the crumbling stone archway to the back where the wall of the abbey has collapsed.

Claire sits there amongst the rubble and weeds with her knees pulled up to her chest, transfixed by the rhythmic rise and fall of the black ocean waves. Was she longing for them to sweep her away?

Jamie couldn't bear the thought of losing her, even as guilt gnawed away at his guts for being the one to have selfishly brought her to this savage place.

For failing to keep her safe.

He can see the bruises on her neck with the lifting of her long dark curls by the cold misty wind and can only imagine what other marks hide beneath her cloak and crumpled dress, making his blood burn black with rage.

As if she's heard the mad thrashing of his heart, Claire looks over her shoulder and her eyes that could bewitch a man into giving up his soul widen in a burst of golden surprise.

"You idiot!" She cries to Jamie's horror. "You damned stupid fool!"

Seizing a rock, Claire hurls it at his head, followed by another and another after that. She then attempts to run when Jamie makes a move to grab her and becomes trapped against his chest.

"Let go of me!" She shouts, jerking violently in his arms wrapped ironclad around her.

"Sassenach! Claire! I'm not here to hurt ye!"

"Let go of me, damn you! Let go!"

The desperation in her voice tears at Jamie's very soul making his arms drop like lead at his sides.

Claire stumbles forward but doesn't run off like he feared she would. Instead she turns to face him, glaring fiercely, with her breath coming out in hurried white puffs around her flushed and freckled cheeks.

"Why did you follow me?" She demands.

"Why the hell did ye leave the castle wi'out telling me? Surely ye must've kent I'd search night and day for ye," Jamie fires back, shuddering with frustration and exhaustion from his tireless pursuit of her.

"It doesn't matter why. You weren't supposed to follow me anyhow." She waves her hand to the trees beyond them that blanket the hills. "Now Dougal will send the entire clan after us thinking you've betrayed him. "

"He won't. I made sure of that," says Jamie, voice cold and unrepentant as the tide crashing against the cliff side, eyeing her bruised throat.

Claire clasps her hand to it.

The same one she slashed Dougal's face and bare chest with in the shadows of her bedchamber, drawing blood that she can still taste like poison on her lips.

"You didn't have to - he didn't -"

Blood rushes to Jamie's face, furious as a thundercloud.

"I did what needed to be done to protect ye, Claire. "

"Jamie, that's all you've ever done for me. That's why I didn't tell you about Dougal. I didn't want to put you in danger."

"You think I care about myself? He hurt ye dammit!"

Jamie slams his fist against a standing stone.

"The one I've waited all my life for. Who holds the whole of my heart . . ." He takes a step closer, voice low and thick with passion. "The one I love."

Claire takes a step back, not daring to believe. Her voice a quivering whisper.

"You can't mean that."

Jamie fixes her with a searing blue gaze and says -

"Have I ever lied to ye?"

The tears come hot and fast down Claire's cheeks and Jamie does his best to thumb them away, lifting her face that's ethereal as a star in his big hands. Oh, how lovely she is.

"Since when?" She murmurs tearily. "How long?"

"From the moment I gave ye the breath of my body while you struggled for air on the shore, when ye weeped in my arms for what was lost to ye that first night at Leoch, my heart and soul have belonged to you. Even in death when I'm nothing more than dust in the wind and far beyond the hereafter, my love for you will never waver." He rests his brow against hers, bowed as if in prayer. "This I promise you wi' all that I am. Will you have me?"

Claire reluctantly pulls away and looks up at his face beaming with devotion she's never known, could never dream of, hands grasping at his chest.

"More than anything I want to say yes -"

"Then say yes!" Jamie sings, his lips brushing the corner of her mouth as he says so, clutching her waist to his.

"But the clan -" Claire pleads, cupping his stubbled cheek, forcing him to meet her gaze. "They'll kill you because of me."

Jamie lays his hand on her wrist, feeling her pulse throbbing hard against his palm and squeezes it.

"My uncle had many enemies and a great many of them are drinking to his death right now not knowing who gave their laird the final blow nor caring. And as for us," a shy and hopeful smile illuminates his face that gives Claire's heart an ache so sweet. "They'll think we've eloped just like my mother and father did. That damned fool James Fraser, they'll say, bewitched by his silkie bride."

And then there's no longer a need for words or even air as Claire once more takes Jamie's breath away, this time with a joyful, heavenly kiss.

//

Backstory: Jamie finds Claire on a rocky shoreline thinking she's a dead seal. But when the seal starts to move he thinks there's a pup trapped inside. He slashes the belly open and out comes Claire. Bloodied. White as bone. And her first gasp of human life leaves her choking and breathless hence Jamie giving her the breath of his body so that she may live.

Also I couldn't think of a better name for this drabble nonsense so I went with the first thing that popped into my head. The song by The Cure - The edge of the deep green sea. That song has a totally different vibe than what's conveyed here but damn what a great song.

Forgive the stupidity of the drabble pls

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

Any thoughts you’d like to share on the other origins characters? Anything you like about them :)

Again, haven't played the game so these are my general thoughts based on a few romance compilations, YouTube Shorts, and memes. If anybody would like to rectify this, please Venmo me $500 so I can buy a PS5.

Shadowheart

Admittedly don't know that much about her other than the emos love her and she follows a goddess of loss. Looks like her arc is all about questioning institutions and her god, which I think is very sexy of her. If anybody has a quest line compilation video to recommend so I can see her whole story, please send it my way.

Lae'zel

The other origin character I admittedly don't know that much about. Still love an arc about questioning the system she was raised in and her god. Again, very sexy of her. Fish out of water stories are some of my favorites. Pair that with a hardened character learning to enjoy the gentler things in the world, and you've got yourself a banger. I should really look up her quest line at some point to get a full view of it.

Karlach

Best girl. Strong muscles, soft heart. I want her to be my best friend IRL. She deserves better and if there is any way to get a better ending that allows her to stay in Faerun, the studio needs to get on that ASAP. In the meantime, I'm going to stay in the part of the internet that says she's fine don't worry about it. I'm hugging her and there is nothing you can do about it.

Wyll

Sweet boy. A perfect boy who did nothing wrong ever. Yeah, yeah, sold his soul to a devil, but he had a good reason. Plus, he was seventeen. Nobody should let a seventeen year old make any decisions ever. I do need to find a good romance compilation. He needs more love. His friendship with Karlach is everything to me.

Gale

People really need to stop complaining about this man. I see too many being ragging on about how he's not over his ex and keeps bringing her up. "With you I forget my goddess?" That isn't him saying with you he forgets his ex, he's saying with you he forgets his god. How are we all not collectively swooning? And he's a nerd who will info dump about his passions? Sign me the fuck up. His comfy pjs and burnt out gifted kid swagger has bewitched me body and soul.

Astarion

Guys, you've seen my blog. I'm obsessed with him.

The moment I saw this asshole pop up on my dash, I knew I was going to love him. He was the reason I decided to finally look up a romance compilation once I realized my computer was too old to let me run the game. He's my type to the point of parody. Literally anybody who knows me, knows this guy would end up being my favorite.

His arc is about bodily autonomy and trauma. He's allowed to not be the perfect victim. He's angry and violent. He's selfish and terrified. And he is, sadly, one of the few characters who, as part of his arc, realizes he can say no to sex and he can be loved without it.

My point is, it should be no surprise to anybody that the ace community loves this man, and anybody complaining about it should shut up.

If you want to write your sexy Astarion fanfic, there is nothing stopping you. More power to you. I've seen the graveyard scene too. I recognize that regaining his autonomy and being able to have sex with somebody he cares about is part of the healing process.

At the same time, if writers want to interpret his arc is him realizing he never wants to have sex again, and that being okay; let them. We need this. There are so few characters like him out there.

At some point I do want to write an hour long video essay about his arc and how it's resonated with the ace community specifically.

Anyway, those are my general thoughts. I feel like I just swung a bat at a hornet's nest with that last bit, but what's life without a little danger?

[lipglossanon]

Good morning/afternoon/evening/night to you lipgloss! 🩷

So just wanna share another brainrot with the sweet stepdad and Chris (I realized I talked too much about dark!SD but sweet!SD needs some loving too). I remember in one of your asks, an anon (I don't remember who) ask who is most likely to have a threesome. And I think the answer for the sweet!SD goes something like: 'With someone who he can trust a lot and that's Chris.'

And this is where my brainrot comes in. I am a HUGE sucker for cliche tropes, like imagine one day Leon invited Chris over for dinner because they're besties, catching up with life over a few drinks because it's been so long since they've seen each other and now is the perfect time because Chris has just retired from the military. Chris went to Leon's house and saw the reader and immediately fell in love with her at first sight. Like he's this big tough and scary former military man with scars all over his body, and reader sitting in the garden reading a book peacefully while the sun shines on her face illuminating her figure making her look like an angel. Chris SWORE up and down that he actually died and saw his best friend in heaven and that the angel in the garden is the one that has come to retrieve his soul. Chris is bewitched, in his old age (RE8 Chris tho 👀💦) and he can't believe how his heart can fall in love at first sight considering the stuff he saw in the battlefield, it should have been hardened. Leon saw how Chris looked at reader, and calls reader over to introduce her to him. Chris felt guilty, falling for his best friend's stepdaughter but doesn't let him show. They have a nice chat over dinner, and whenever he gets the chance, he steals a glance at reader. After that, Chris would often come by their house to 'hang' out, while his real motive was to see the reader and get to know her better.

🌙 anon

🌙 anon, thank you for waiting 😭

And this is such a lovely ask!! 💜 sweet Chris and sweet stepdad at the same time 😩 they’re both just smitten by you and love to love on you 🥰

Thank you for sharing this!! It made my heart all warm and fuzzy 🥹

[bluejaywuzhere]

Collisions of Then and Now

For the Flufftober prompts: Days 4, 11, 13, 14, 18, 28, Alt 1, Alt 2, and Alt 3: Market Day; Ingredients & Spells; Attic, Cellar, Hidden Room; Fantasy AU/Mundane AU; Bewitched; Lucky Charm; “I’ve got you”; Rainy Day; “Wait, you love me?” - “I always have”

- - - - - - - - -

James Buchanan Barnes hadn't always been of the magical world. He had been normal, once. Before the war, before Hydra, before ice, he’d been a normal young man in a normal village with a normal best friend and housemate. 

Well, he supposed his housemate wasn't the most normal. Stevie had always had health problems, and despite his best efforts, it’d been hard on him and his mother’s finances. When Ms. Sarah passed (bless her soul) and Stevie needed help with managing the house, Bucky moved in to help his buddy out. Yeah, sure maybe it wasn’t the most normal of situations, but it worked for them and they were happy. And then their kingdom of America declared war and everything got a lot more complicated. 

- - - - - - - - -

Bucky said he’d volunteered (that was a lie. The royal guard had threatened his sister). He said he was fighting for his kingdom (that was also a lie. He was fighting for his sister. He was fighting for Stevie. Maybe it was selfish, but he didn't give a damn about America). He said he’d be back soon (he hadn't meant that to be a lie. It was). 

- - - - - - - - -

His entire troop was captured by the other side, instead of being slaughtered (at the time, he was thankful. But later, Bucky decided he would have preferred death to the hell they put him through). 

- - - - - - - - -

It was a league of witches, witches who called themselves Hydra. They were experimenting with spells and potions and runes,  combining all three into dangerous magics that they hoped would help achieve immortality (and if not immortality, enough power to win the war). Bucky became a test subject (it felt like they were pumping lava into his veins sometimes, turning his skin inside out other times, and some of the worst times it felt like all the warmth was being leeched from his insides. He wasn’t surprised that everyone died, he was only surprised that he had survived). 

- - - - - - - - -

Steve (brilliant, wonderful, idiotic Steve) rescued him. Steve had signed up for an American experimental program and had become extremely strong and fast and tall and healthy. Steve had barged into Hydra’s little lair and stolen Bucky away. Steve, who used to be fifty pounds soaking wet and couldn't run more than six feet before wheezing. (Stevie, who made the most fantastic paintings and had the biggest heart ever for such a tiny body. Stevie, who fought guys three times his size in back alleys, on the justification that “he was attacking her, Bucky” and “he can’t just say that about the men who’re out there dying for us”). Steve, who their kingdom called Captain and lauded with glory, who didn't care beyond the muscle and blonde hair, who girls fawned over and littered with kisses. Steve, who meant no more to America than a glorified weapon. (Steve, who Bucky knew better than himself and who he would die for a thousand times).

- - - - - - - - -

Bucky didn't know it, but Hydra had stuck magic inside him. America had done the same with Steve. Magic that would keep him alive. Through tortures, through swords, through ice. 

- - - - - - - - -

Bucky fell. Hydra found him. And this time, they made sure that he could never resist them again. 

- - - - - - - - -

Seventy years. They kept him spelled him, tested things on him, and made him a murderer. He was their puppet for seventy years. 

- - - - - - - - -

Stevie saved him. Stevie always saved him (true love broke the most powerful of curses). 

- - - - - - - - -

After everything was said and done, Bucky left America. He established his own little hut in the forest, bought spellbooks, and tried to make a living for himself. After a few years, Stevie hesitantly showed up on his doorstep. Bucky, like always, welcomed him with open arms. It was five years before anything disturbed them again.

- - - - - - - - -

After almost a decade of practicing magic (or well, ninety-something years if you counted the mindless Hydra puppet years, which Bucky did not), Bucky Barnes was getting used to being a witch. And he humbly considered himself to be fairly decent at it. So, when a traveler asked for a luck charm, Bucky deemed it an easy request to answer.  

“Steve, we’re out of yarrow again!” Bucky yells over his shoulder, frowning at the empty space where the dried yellow flowers were supposed to be. 

Steve pokes his head through the wide open doorway separating the kitchen and the sitting room, furrowing his brows as Bucky rifles through the cupboards. 

“You sure? I swear we just bought some three suns ago.” 

Bucky sighs and shakes his head, his grown-out hair swishing strangely around his face. 

“Yeah, I did! Where’s it all gone?” He complains. Steve thinks for a moment, walking into the kitchen and resting his big blonde head on Bucky’s shoulder. “Well, if we’re really out, then the market is open until sunset tonight. You have a deadline, right?”

Bucky groans, thunking his temple against Steve’s head. “Yes.” He grumbles, turning his face into Steve’s fair hair. Bucky distantly notes that it smells faintly of grass and fresh linen. “I have seven suns as of today. It takes two to brew the potion, and then it has to soak for three. ‘M already cutting it close as is.” 

Steve smiles into Bucky’s shoulder before pulling away, reaching around Bucky’s head to close the open cabinet. 

“Well then, you better get to it, Mr. Magic Man.” 

Bucky rolls his eyes and swats Steve’s shoulder, nodding towards the door. 

“You gonna come with me?” He demands, and his acerbic tone would have sounded terse and harsh to anyone else, but Steve knows it was simply Bucky’s way of hiding (whatever it was that it was hiding). Steve beams at him and whacks his shoulder as he passes. “Of course! I need to get some more sorrel anyway. I’ll grab the umbrella.” 

- - - - - - - - -

One accomplishment of Hydra’s experiments with Bucky was diluting the effects of what Hyrda dubbed ‘wasser-seele-korrosion,’ literally, ‘water-soul-corrosion’. A common consequence of gaining witch powers was that fresh or running water would erode one’s core of magic, destroying them from the inside out. Hydra’s efforts to reverse the side effects were not entirely successful, but they did manage to reduce the fatalistic nature of water to witches: instead of the water eating away at one’s soul, it would eat away at one’s skin. Thus, instead of killing the subject, it would merely cause them unbearable pain. Needless to say, Hydra saw this as an outstanding breakthrough and tested it on a live subject at the first opportunity. Specifically, the super-enhanced, bewitched live subject they had helpfully in custody.

- - - - - - - - -

When in the process of changing, Bucky resolutely avoided the mirrors. After nearly a decade of being free from Hydra’s control, he still wasn’t able to look at his patchwork of scars without feeling sick. Especially his arm- god, every time he caught even a flash of metal, he had to stop and breathe for a moment. 

- - - - - - - - -

In another one of their experiments, Hydra had turned his left arm into solid metal. They spelled it to feel normal, to move like normal, to feel no different than his arm made of flesh and blood and bone, disregarding the fact that they had irreversibly transformed skin and muscle into steel. They then made him use that arm to spatter blood and crush bone. 

- - - - - - - - -

Bucky takes a breath and pulls off his shirt, flinching as sunlight glints off the metal. He closes his eyes and breathes, feeling the air in his lungs and the wooden flooring beneath his feet. He pulls on a new shirt, the feeling of his fingers scraping over his pockmarked back sending shivers of revulsion down his spine. Eyes still closed, he grabs a glove to fit over his metal hand. Only once the entirety of his left arm, from his shoulder to his fingertips, is covered, only then does he open his eyes and breathe freely. No panic attacks, then. A good day.

- - - - - - - - -

Steve smiles brightly when Bucky emerges. If he notices Bucky’s shaking shoulders and the way he grasps Steve’s arm a little too tight, he doesn’t mention it. Instead, Steve starts chattering about his paintings. Bucky knows that Steve mostly paints for himself, but he’s recently received his first commission, which he’s working on now. Steve talks about the difficulty of certain pieces and how hard it is to get the colors right, but also about how good it‘s turning out. Bucky relaxes bit by bit at the sound of Steve’s voice. Warm, familiar, soothing, and above all else, safe. Then Steve says something that makes Bucky tune back in sharply: 

“Hey, do you mind if I draw you sometime?” Bucky shoots him a sharp look, mind whirling. Steve just gazes at him, expression open, honest. Bucky doesn't know what to say. He’s… he’s thought about Steve drawing him. He’s always squashed that thought down though, because… well, that’s not really something friends do. And Bucky‘s long since buried any hope of being anything more than friends with Steve. 

“You want me to… you want to draw me?” Bucky hedges, still eyeing Steve for, well, he doesn't know what he’s expecting. Steve doesn’t seem like he’s joking, or playing some kind of prank, but Bucky can't quite believe the words coming out of his best friend’s mouth (best friend, that’s what Steve is, dammit, and that's all he’s ever going to be, Bucky has to keep reminding himself). Steve is still smiling, oblivious to Bucky’s overthinking. 

“Yeah! You have a very pretty face. I’ve wanted to draw it for a long time, but I wanted to be able to do it justice. Now, I think I can draw you right.” Steve says sheepishly, and well, how can Bucky say no to that?

- - - - - - - - -

The market is surprisingly busy, considering it’s past mid-sun and barely halfway through the lunar cycle. It is always busy on a full or new moon, or solstice, or at night, but to be this busy in the sunlight on no remarkable moon is… odd. Bucky finds himself uneasy. Something’s wrong. Steve feels it too. There’s something different in the air, and it’s making them both nervous. Instead of splitting up like they usually would, by unconscious and mutual agreement, they stick together. Bucky pays for the yarrow with quick hands and a strained smile, every hair on the back of his neck sticking straight up. When he bids hasty farewells to the yarrow seller and looks around anxiously, he accidentally locks eyes with a strangely familiar-looking guy across the square. Bucky has a moment to wonder where he’s seen him before, and then Steve brightens and hurries over, beckoning Bucky to follow him.

“Sam!” Steve whisper-yells and the guy nods tersely, glancing around. 

“Oh yeah, I remember you,” Bucky realizes, finally remembering glowing red wings that appear and disappear at will. Sam nods hello, then turns back to Steve. 

“America’s rounding up anyone magic. Everyone, actually. The king sent out the whole royal army, they’re sweeping every house within a three-sun journey. Word on the street is that we’re all gonna be killed. Be careful.” Sam warned. Steve nods seriously, sharing a nervous glance with Bucky. 

“We’ll be careful. You be safe too, okay?” He asks, and Sam smiles. “Hey, I’m not the one with a damn metal arm, for Christ’s sake.” 

Bucky tries not to flinch, Steve takes his hand, and Sam notices. “You two take care of each other now.” He says, a not-so-subtle smirk tugging at his lips. Steve, for some reason, blushes. As they leave the market, Bucky’s mind lingers on it because what the hell was that?

- - - - - - - - -

It’s a long walk back to their hut: Bucky chose a pretty secluded spot deep in the woods, which is a little inconvenient for trips to and from the market, but it’s rather protected. They have plenty of time before the soldiers get there. Nevertheless, Steve and Bucky begin preparations. There have been raids in the past, usually lawless flash mobs with torches and pitchforks. Not much danger if one knows a simple concealing spell. But the king's royal army would be a much more formidable force. Their armor is constructed to see through enchantments and their blades are sharpened to slice through any conjured barriers. No, against this foe, Bucky and Steve have but three options: they can either stay and pretend to be nothing more than simple peasants (difficult, considering they’re a fair distance from the nearest village and Bucky has a solid metal arm), they can abandon their home and flee into the woods until the guards move on (problem is, neither of them wants to leave), or they can split up, with Bucky hiding in the woods and Steve staying behind to watch the house (no way in hell). After too much time spent deliberating, Bucky finally sighs.

“Steve, there's nothing for it. We're gonna have to jump ship.” 

“Buck, we can't just leave. Our lives are here, we have to stay and fight.” Steve, unsurprisingly, is being stubborn, but Bucky’s made up his mind. 

“No, Steve, listen. I can hide the magic stuff. We can pack a bag each, fill ‘em with what we can’t leave behind, and we can go.” Steve opens his mouth to argue, but Bucky presses on, reaching out and gripping his arm. 

“Steve, Stevie listen to me. We can leave the house. The house doesn't matter, what matters is that we don't lose each other again, okay? That's what's important.” 

And well, Steve can’t seem to argue against that.

- - - - - - - - -

Bucky’s in the middle of transfiguring the cauldron when a rough thunk-thunk-thunk sounds at the door. Bucky knows that noise. It’s armor on wood. It’s the royal guard, hours early. Some bastard must’ve let slip about the witch in the woods, and now the royal army is seconds away from knocking down Bucky’s front door and he’s not ready, they aren’t supposed to be here yet, why are they here- 

“Breathe,” Steve’s voice cuts through Bucky’s panicked spiraling, and he blinks, suddenly staring into Stevie’s blue blue eyes. 

“It’s okay. It’ll be okay. We need to go, Buck,” He says, calm and sweet as molasses candy on a Sunday morning. “You’re doing great, sweetheart. Come on Buck, that’s it. One foot in front of the other.” Steve gently leads Bucky over to the back door, snagging both their bags as he goes and quietly turns the handle, slipping out into the wild as the soldiers finally break down the front door. 

- - - - - - - - -

There’s a tree hollow that they’ve hidden in before. When the nightmares were too much, when the walls were closing in, when Bucky found himself awake at night, he’d make his way out to the little tree hollow and let nature lull him to sleep. Crickets and frogs drowned out the venomous spells that slithered around in his mind, and he could finally close his eyes peacefully. He often awoke in Steve’s arms, the blonde curled protectively around him even in sleep. 

That tree hollow is where Steve and Bucky hide, trusting good old-fashioned vines and leaves to artfully hide the entrance from view. They crouch there for what feels like hours, still as stone and hardly daring to breathe as soldiers clomp and stomp and yell and grumble, searching the undergrowth for the duo, at times mere inches from the witches in question. And when the soldiers finally, finally leave, the heavens open wide and dump the heaviest rainstorm of the season. Safe to say, Steve and Bucky aren’t going anywhere.

- - - - - - - - -

Bucky keeps pale blue eyes fixed on the deluge outside, hugging his knees to his chest and leaning his head on Steve’s solid shoulder. He knows Steve well enough to know that the blonde is very nervous about the sound of hammering raindrops against wood. They’re both more cautious of rain nowadays. Bucky doesn’t know what to do to help though, so he drops his soft brown head on Steve’s shoulder and breathes.

“You know I’m shit at emotions and stuff, but I’m here, okay Stevie? I’ve got you. You’re gonna be okay,” Bucky murmurs, and Steve sighs but relaxes minutely and rests his head on top of Bucky’s. 

“I know. Thanks, Buck,” 

- - - - - - - - -

Two days later, the house is more or less completely fixed, the royal army has moved on to bully some other witch, and Steve and Bucky are finally getting back to some semblance of normal. Then Bucky remembers the lucky charm he was supposed to make for the traveler and groans. 

“Steve, do you remember if we stored that yarrow?”

- - - - - - - - -

“Buck, could you grab the crushed buttercup for me?”

“Stevie, pass the hare fur.”

“Sweetheart, I needed oregano, not mint.”

“Ooh, hand me the goldenrod, doll,” 

- - - - - - - - -

Miraculously, they brew the potion, soak the charm, and have the package ready in time for the traveler to pick it up. 

Honestly, Bucky doesn't know how they did it. But hey, the traveler paid up generously (enough money for Bucky to get a nice new pack of paints for Stevie’s birthday), so Bucky wasn't about to complain over a job well done. 

After the whole soldier fiasco is over and the potion is delivered, Bucky decides to be productive and make a little hidey-hole in the cellar. When Steve comes down with a drink, a cool rag, and a few questions, he gives answers. 

“Don’t like seeing you scared. We can just hide down here next time bad guy come a-knocking.” Bucky mentions flippantly, wiping dirt off his forehead. 

Steve feels a tender warmth welling up in his chest, and he can’t contain a smile. “I love you, Buck.” 

They both freeze. 

It's the first time it’s been said out loud. 

Bucky’s heart is pounding too loudly in his throat, and he coughs, trying to dislodge it from where it’s very stubbornly hanging out by his vocal cords. 

“Wait, you- you love me?” He asks, his voice hoarse and crackly, scarcely believing what he’s hearing.

Steve swallows, and for a terrifying moment, he can’t speak. Everything freezes, his lungs seize up and his mouth won’t move. Bucky’s face shifts. He suddenly looks… frightened. Scared. No, terrified. It’s that heart-wrenching look that snaps Steve out of his frozen trance. He has to say something, anything to get that awful expression off Bucky’s face. “I- yes. God yes. Of course I love you, Buck. I always have.”

Slowly, ever so slowly, a blinding smile illuminates Bucky’s face. It's one of those rare, precious smiles that Steve treasures, hoards like valuable gold. Bucky’s sky-light eyes crinkle at the corners, his lips curl up, his skin turns a lovely shade of pink, and he smiles, brighter than the sun, moon, and all the stars in the sky. 

Steve would kill to keep seeing that smile. 

Bucky strides forward and grasps Steve’s head between his two hands, one flesh one metal, and presses their foreheads together. Steve closes his eyes, breathing in the orangy smell of Bucky’s soap, the slight tang of iron from his arm, the mildewy odor of the basement, and the woody, earthy scent of his magic that seeps from his being. Bucky’s flesh hand grazes against Steve’s jaw, and the blonde half-opens his eyes to find Bucky gazing at him, open, curious, hesitant, eager. He gently tugs Steve’s chin just a hair closer, then stops. 

Steve glances down at Bucky’s lips, red as an apple skin and half-parted. A most tempting invitation; one that Steve cannot find a single reason to refuse. 

- - - - - - - - -

A few truths of the universe:

One: Bucky Barnes has been, is, and will always be weak for Steve Rogers.

Two: Steve Rogers has been, is, and always will be weak for Bucky Barnes.

And three: strengths and weaknesses are often one and the same when it comes to Bucky and Steve.

- - - - - - - - -

Soon, the walls of Steve’s art studio are covered with Bucky’s face, in acrylic, in watercolor, in pencil, in charcoal, pale blue and chestnut, lashes, lips, eyes and a little quirk of a smile. 

Steve is in Bucky’s arms, and in Bucky’s bed and in Bucky’s heart. 

And he stays there. 

- - - - - - - - -

Thank you for reading!