#I'm so proud of it its a part of me and if you reject it youre rejecting me

[infamousbeans]

Creating an oc in front of your partner is more intimate than sex

[swallowtail-lotus]

Two is better than one {Hades x Goddess!Reader x Poseidon} (NSFW!)

Repost

I don't feel too proud of this tbh

Warnings: 18+, double penetration(yes please-), Poseidon being poseidon (probably ooc for the first part), pussy eating, creampie, mentions of overstimulation

_________

How did this happen?

One minute you were just minding your own business when one of the many servants of Poseidon told you to come over to their master's underwater palace, you get there and the next minute, you're in his room, trying to keep quiet as he mercilessly slams into you with incredible force. With every thrust, he was either dead silent or letting out quiet grunts.

"L-Lord Poseidon! What's the- Ah! meaning of this?" You managed to groan out, your lower region filled up with the god's length. Poseidon didn't respond and continued to slam in you. Your wrists were pinned to the bed by his hands.

What gotten into him all of a sudden? He was never like this before. He was always so distant from everyone, except for his older brother, Hades. Physical touch isn't something he approved of unless you meant something to him.

"Silence. You have no need to speak."

His words came out harsh, but that's just how he speaks to anyone (if he gave them the time that is). You shut your mouth after that, but it was proven to be difficult with his cock buried deep inside your entrance. Since one of his hands had your wrists pinned down, all you can do to keep quiet was to seal your lips.

Through your half lidded eyes, you try to took the time to bask in the surprising beauty the sea god has. His wavy blonde locks moving in sync with his thrusts, the sea blue eyes staring right into your own, muscles flexing from gripping both your wrists and the spot beside your head.

This whole situation was confusing on its own.

Then you remembered. A while back, Poseidon had asked for your hand in marriage. Being a goddess who wanted to wait, you politely declined the proposal. You guessed that didn't sit well with the God.

As if it couldn't get any more shocking, his older brother, Hades asked the same thing! Like before, you rejected and went on with your day.

Was Poseidon... Jealous?

Your questions were interrupted by the tip hitting your womb repeatedly. A surprised gasp left your lips, soon turning to whimpers.

"You'll regret rejecting me." He hissed, his hips bucking even faster than before. Your walls clenched around his cock, the organ twitching against them. You heard Poseidon take  sharp inhales through his teeth, possibly a sign he was close. You felt yourself getting close too.

"I'm-" You could barely finish that sentence when his load shot into you, some of it leaking out of your pussy. Just as you were about to cum, he pulled out. Your legs twitched in place, slowly closing them to prevent anymore of his load coming out.

"W-why did you-"

"You don't deserve it yet." He interrupted you by answering your unfinished question. Your hand immediately went down to finger yourself when he loosen his grip on your wrists, but he stopped you from doing so.

"I said you. Don't. Deserve. It." He repeated, some hostility in his bland tone. You whimpered again, desperately grinding on the bed. His hands began to roam your body, not showing a hint of remorse to your current state. You couldn't take it anymore, and soon your juices came out. Until you were done, you fell back on the bed, your hair spread out and face flushed.

"Just from my touch? How pathetic." Poseidon spoke, eyeing your wet clit. You couldn't care less about his words, you were just glad this was all over...

Or so you thought...

~~~~~~~~~~

One month has passed, and you haven't been more relieved to see Poseidon as his usual self. Ever since that day, you've tried your best to avoid him more than ever. Originally, you found yourself sitting/standing next to the God, now you distance yourself by standing near other gods. When one of the servants searched for you, you'd hide.

But another problem began to rise up as soon as Hades came in. Except he was the problem.

Just like Poseidon, he was persistent in his advances, but he was also very subtle. However, it did get annoying over time. Sure, the flowers and jewellery were great gifts, and you appreciate them all, but sometimes it got on your nerves.

One day, a minor god fearfully approached you to tell you about Hades wanting to see you for important matters. This was unexpected, seeing how Hades rarely asks for anyone unless it was really urgent.

"I'll be there. Although I don't see why he needs me of all people." You commented, mostly to yourself. You made your way to the underworld, greeting Cerberus with a pat on  the three heads. You managed to find the God, looking handsome as ever with his hair slightly messed up and his face not ruined in the slightest.

"Lord Hades? Why did you ask for me?" You questioned, your (e/c) eyes wide with curiousity. The God looked up from the desk, his normally stoic face softening at the sight of you.

"I just need your help with something." He answered, standing up from the desk. You watched him make his way towards you, his eye shining under the light. Before you could react, he trapped you between his arms, towering over you.

"I need you to answer me. Why did you reject me?" He leaned closer to your face, his lips only a few centimetres from yours. You were too afraid to respond, and being this close to the god wasn't helping.

"W-well, Lord Poseidon asked for my hand in m-marriage, and seeing you do the same c-caught me off guard.." Your response was barely a whisper, but given how close both of you were, Hades definitely heard it.

Hades took the time to properly admire your beauty, stroking your cheek with a small smile.

"I don't blame my brother. You remind me of the River Styx." You blinked at the comment he made. It was an odd way to compliment someone, but knowing Hades, this wasn't too surprising.

"How so?" You asked. Hades kept quiet, leaning even closer and left soft kisses on your neck, his hands moving to your sides. Your whole body shook in his hands, your eyes staring up at the ceiling.

His lips were strangely soft, but cold. He moved up from your neck to your lips. Unlike Poseidon, it wasn't forced but instead sweet, the coldness was nice against yours. Instead of fighting it, you caved in, moving your arms up to wrap them around his neck. You felt his hands trail down to your hips, hoisting you up by your thighs. You felt his bulge rub against your inner thigh.

His tongue came out to lick your lips, as if asking for permission. Your lips moved, enabling the god to wrestle with your tongue. He pulled away, much to your disappointment.

"L-Lord Hades.." You shuddered out, drooling slightly. Hades kept you up, unbuckling his pants with one hand. He used that hand to rip off your dress along with your panties. Once he was done, he put his hand under your right thigh, his cock out and fully erected. Your eyes widen at the sheer size of his length, which was about 7 inches. The tip had precum oozing out and poked at your entrance. Your heart was beating fast right now, legs trembling in his hands.

"May I?" The God inquired, his lips forming a smirk. You nodded eagerly, your hands now gripping his shoulders. After adjusting himself, he thrusted in slowly, burying his head in the right side of your neck. Out of instinct, you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer.

"Fuck." Hades hissed in your ear, biting the lobe while bucking his hips faster. He was different than Poseidon, who did fill you up but not like Hades. Hades was the right size to hit you in the right spot. With every thrust, it brought you over the edge of pleasure. He picked up the pace, his breathing fanning your ear. One harsh thrust, you came all over his cock.

All of a sudden, Hades stopped completely, moving from your neck and his dick still inside. Your face turned to confusion, watching Hades with caution. Hades brought you to his desk, turned you over on your stomach. Your chest was pressed against the hard surface, your wetness dripping out. His warm, rough hands caressed your hips, his thumbs gently rubbing your skin. His length brushed against your ass, the underside sliding up and down.

You let out a gasp of shock when he slammed into your ass, rising up on your toes.

"I've been stressed lately, being a king is quite tiring, wouldn't you agree?" He teased suggestively, pressing himself against your back. Hades left soft kisses on your shoulder and neck, his hands now groping your chest. Your tongue hung out of your mouth, eyes rolled back to the back of your skull. The desk nudged forward from Hades  constantly slamming into you.

Hades chuckled near your ear, couple of grunts here and there.

"Want me to use you all I want?" He asked, his fingers trailing along the lips of your pussy. You were too caught up with the bliss to answer back. Hades didn't wait for your response and shoved his fingers inside. He grunted out that he was close, which was barely audible, but you heard it crystal clear. Once he was satisfied, his pulled his fingers out, your cum coating his fingers. He takes one long lick at his fingers, tasting the liquid.

"Much sweeter than I thought."

One final thrust, his load came out in your ass and he pulled out. You caught your head when it was about to drop to the side, your face feeling heated up from the session. You managed to lift yourself up, panting heavily.

"Good little dove. You can stay here until you're ready to leave, okay?" 

~~~~~~~~~

It's been four months since that happened, but you felt disappointed. Disappointed that it didn't last as long as you had hoped for, but it was fun nonetheless.

Hades was kind enough to take care of you until you were perfectly fine after that.

Now, an invitation from Zeus himself to an event was unexpected, seeing how you sometimes had trouble talking to gods from other pantheons. You wanted to decline, but knowing the supreme god, you decided to go so you wouldn't have to deal with his constant persistence. You are close to Zeus, but you thought your friendship wasn't this serious.

"You finally accepted my invitation! The first time in centuries, too!" Zeus exclaimed once he saw you. You gave him a smile and waved at him. Thankfully, he didn't try to approach you and stayed in his place.

You had to admit, Zeus does know how to keep parties lively. You thought you were gonna be bored in an instant, but Zeus proved you wrong. Even so, you still preferred to stay away from the other gods.

After two hours, you decided to leave. After roaming the huge corridors, you heard distant voices over the music. Slowly growing bored, you went over to check it out. You found the voices to be both gods who had longed pursued you.

Hades and Poseidon. And it seems that they weren't agreeing with each other on something.

"What the- may I ask why were you arguing?" You asked, looking at both gods, expecting an answer. Hades was the one who stepped up.

"We were simply discussing about you." Hades answered, lifting your chin up to look into your beautiful (e/c) eyes. Poseidon can only stare at his older brother with his usual emotionless face.

"Discussing what, exactly?" You asked, placing on your hands on your hips.

"About marrying one of us." Hades chuckled when he saw your frown. You wanted to groan out of annoyance, but you wasted that energy with the party. You sighed out, lowering your head.

"How many times must I say this? I don't want to marry neither of you!" You shouted, pretty upset they can't take the hint. The brother looked at each other and grabbed you by the wrist, leading you to a bedroom. You wanted to fight back, but they were one of the strongest gods in Valhalla.

Thinking back on the times where they made love to you, you had thought you hated it, but now you don't.

You stopped resisting and let them throw you on the bed. Poseidon slowly leaned down towards your face, forcefully pressing his lips to yours. His tongue overpowered your tongue, his hand groping your chest roughly.

"We can always do it the hard way, dove." Hades kneeled down in front of your clit, took off your clothes and immediately licked your pussy, holding your thighs up. You moaned in the kiss, wondering whenever to mess with Poseidon's hair or leave it be.

Hades pushed his tongue inside, face buried deep in your entrance. Poseidon shot back from you, his chest moving slowly from his breathing.

Hades pulled back, your pussy already wet. He stood up straight, climbing on the bed and set himself behind you. Poseidon shifted to position himself in front of you, setting his hands on your thighs. Without thinking, you moved your hands to undo Poseidon's pants, to which the latter didn't stop you. Hades lifted you up by the hips, positioning you on top of both their cocks. Their lengths slowly slide inside both your holes.

Thankfully, both of them let you take some time to adjust to their lengths and they start moving their hips. They went slow, but the pent up energy they had took over them and their hips moved at speeds unimaginable.

"Oh my- My lords-" Two hands groped your breasts, pinching your perked nipples.

"Good girl~" The grip on your tits tighten, two tongue taking each side of your neck. The lovebites they're leaving were much harder, and possible could leave bruises. All the stimulation previously held in had come flowing out, the cum leaking out both your holes.

Much to your confusion, they didn't pull out, but rather continued their animalistic thrusts.

"A-ah wait-" You tried to plea, but it fell on deaf ears. Their grunts filled your ears and the air in the room, the two gods not showing a single sign of stopping.

They never stopped until you eventually milked Poseidon's cock after the 5th round. After it was all over, you collapsed.

The next morning, your clit and ass were still extremely sore from last night. It was hard but you managed to get off the bed, only to stumbled forward. On the small nightstand laid a piece of paper, which you assumed to be a letter of sorts. You scurried over to read the letter, deciding to get back on the bed. You opened the letter, reading it over and over again.

Don't think we're done yet. See you real soon, my dove~

[pinguwrites]

Ooooh, what about this? Future!reader accidentally time traveled to 1940s when she met William Killick, and he had to take care of her due to injuries she had. She ended up staying with him while rejecting his advances because she was trying to find a way to go back to future, and it wouldn’t be fair to him if she were to accept his advances, but she didn’t know William was sabotaging the solutions to ensure she would stay with him forever.

THIS IS ABSOLUTELY WONDERFUL LIKE HOLY SHIT. I was about to write something like this with Tommy in Black Heart, but I opted out, and I hadn't even considered this with William, so I'm so glad you requested it!!

this was supposed to be a short-length fic lol, it's like the longest thing I've ever written on here

Home Is Where the Heart Is ⸻ William Killick

pairing | william killick x future!reader

summary | You don't think much of the box when it arrives at your front door. That is, until you open it and are transported decades into the past. There, you fall into the arms of a handsome soldier, who is intent on making you stay.

word count | 9k

Warnings: DUB-CON, possessive!william, future!reader, period typical sexism it's okay when it's william, reader has a software job, weird time travel plot (who knows how the box got there? it's totally not going to be revealed in part two ;) ), mentions of war, reader simps so hard, p in v sex, breeding kink

Disclaimer: The Edge of Love characters, plots, quotes, etc. do not belong to me and belong to the rightful owner(s). This is only fanfiction and this is just for fun.

A/N: I'm honestly not too proud with how rushed it was, but I'm glad it's out there. I'm definitely doing a part two. Be warned for errors.

You were lying in a field of grass, tall, bushy trees lining the area around you. You seemed to be in some type of countryside because in the distance you could faintly see quaint little houses and farmland (at least, you assumed it was; your vision was awfully blurry), but other than that, you had no clue as to where you were.

“Ah,” you hissed, noticing the cut on your body. When you arrived — however that happened — you had scrapped your arm on a sharp rock embedded in the dirt, and now it was bleeding, red blood trickling down your arm.

You sighed miserably, trying to make sense of the situation.

Yesterday, a packaged box arrived on your front doorstep. No address, no company, just a note in pen, To [Y/n] [L/n]. You were a little wary of its contents but brought it inside anyway. You opened it and uncovered a machine, steel and simple in its construction, yet difficult to understand. There was no instruction manual or labels for the buttons, and it took you a while to know if you were even looking at it right, the only hint being the Roman numerals inside the dials.

After tinkering around with it, you must have fallen asleep, because the next thing you knew, you were in a completely other place. All you had on were your clothes, some money, and your phone, which, surprise surprise, had no signal, so all you could do was look at your downloads — completely useless — and take a photo. 

I must’ve been drugged, you thought, still feeling hazy. I should have called the cops the moment I realized something was off.

You got up and took off your socks, trying to stop the bleeding with it. It wasn’t the most hygienic, but it was all you had at the moment, and you weren’t about to tear off pieces of the shirt you had on, especially not when you were already shivering. 

The contraption had traveled with you, and though you were aware it was the reason you were here in the first place, you thought it better to bring it along, as evidence. You could show it to the government, and they could use their little science ways to find the culprit. All would be fine.

All will be fine.

You started walking. You didn’t have any shoes on for protection, so it was difficult to step across the dirt, with all its rocks and insects swarming about, but you managed to get to grass quick enough, and it felt much better, almost healing to walk barefoot on the softness of mother nature.

But you didn’t get very far. Eventually, your stomach started grumbling, and you felt like your intestines were twisting inside with desperation. Your sock was now red, and your hand was trembling, so with a defeated sigh, you let go, of both the sock and the heavy machine, allowing the blood to flow freely. You bent over to pick the sock back up first, but the sudden movement made your head reel, and before you knew it, you were out again.

+++

“You’re awake,” a voice said, a male’s voice, a British accent that sounded like butter. Oh, butter, if you could get your hands on that alone you would be satisfied. 

You opened your eyes, blinking. A figure, with pale skin and dark hair made it’s way over to you, and in a panic, you crawled away, eyes darting across the room. You were on a bed, bandages on your arm, but before you could calm down or even begin to think properly, panic took over, your heart rate elevated, and you sighed, before passing out again.

+++

For about the third time today, or however long you were out, you woke up. This time your vision was much clearer, but you still had this nasty migraine in your head. You were sick inside, the kind of sick that happens when you haven’t eaten in a while but can’t eat because you feel like you’ll throw up. 

You wondered if you were in the same place again. You remembered a man, with a soothing voice, but he wasn’t here right now. Though the possibility that you had been kidnapped entered your mind, you noticed the lack of bonds and chains on your body. He was probably just helping you, you reasoned.

You slowly got out of bed, wincing at the shooting pain in your arm. You observed your surroundings. The bedroom was very minimalist, and . . . quirky. You loved the design and the materials used, as it reminded you of a cottage, but there was nothing helpful in sight. All the technology you could see, like the kitchen, needed to be updated and was worn out. There was some type of record player, or CD tape, or whatever that was called, on one of the counters and a radio beside it. 

You didn’t bother with any of that. You were thirsty, throat dry and gnawing at you, so you went to look for water, hoping that whoever lived here didn’t go out and get it from a fucking well. He probably does. Look at this place!

“Shit!” you swore, your knees buckling from underneath you. You felt so weak and miserable and vulnerable. It hit you at this moment that you were probably a hundred miles away from home, in a strange place in a strange home you’d never seen before. How were you going to get back? What were you going to do?

Tears started welling in your eyes. You hated that you were being so emotional. Why couldn’t you toughen up and deal with the situation like a proper adult?

You leaned onto the counter, trying to balance yourself, when the front door opened up, and the man you saw before walked in, carrying a bag full of vegetables and other foods. He quickly placed the bag down and held you in his arms, his warmth comforting and relaxing.

He had short, dark hair, and a sharp jawline, and from this distance, you could see light freckles scattered across his cheeks. He had the most beautiful blue eyes you’d ever seen, like glaciers, like the ocean. Fuck, he was so handsome. 

“Here,” he said, guiding you back to the bedroom. He set you down on the bed, gazing at you with such intensity, like adoration or devotion. 

“W-who are you?” you asked, voice cracking. “Where am I? Hngh.” You rubbed your temples. Didn’t he have any pain medications?

“My name is William. William Killick,” the man introduced softly. “Don’t be scared, I’m not going to hurt you.” He went off into the kitchen and brought back a glass of water. You drank it slowly, the cool liquid flowing through your body, wetting your mouth. “I didn’t know if you had family nearby, so I took you to my place.”

William paused, as if thinking of what to say next. “Get more rest, it’s night.”

You hadn’t even noticed the time, but one look out the window told you he was right. It was pitch black outside.

“You’ll wake up tomorrow, and have some breakfast.”

You shook your head, and handed the glass back to him, only for him to set it down on the nightstand table. “Where’s my phone? Where’s my . . . box?”

He stared at you blankly, before clearing his throat. “Your stuff is in the back. I didn't know what it was — hey, don’t move.” William’s strong hands kept you in place, pushing you back down to the bed as gently as he could whilst still keeping a firm grip. “Rest,” he ordered. “Don’t need you fainting on me again.”

You wanted to argue, but you couldn’t. You laid your head on the pillow, without a choice but to trust William, and fell asleep, wrapping yourself in the blanket with a content sigh. All the questions you had, all the thoughts, faded away and were replaced by darkness.

+++

You dreamt of yourself and yourself. You, the spectator, were standing outside a window, but it wasn’t just any window. It was your window, the one that led to the inside of your bedroom, where you could see you and William — the strange man — entangled in the sheets. Lovers. You two were lovers. You two were making love. 

Anyone would have felt creepy watching someone else, and anyone would have noticed someone watching them, but none of that happened. The sun should have cast a shadow on you, but it didn't. The passerby should have called you out, but they didn’t. 

You had just enough awareness to realize that this was a dream. How were you back at home already? Why were you and William kissing?

While originally you felt nothing, like a simple observer without thoughts, you were suddenly flooded with heavy emotions. Confusion, shame, lust, confusion.

But in just a few moments, the world around you crumbled, like an earthquake, and the sun and moon passed by, stars moving across the heavens, and you were warped by time, back in the same place you were before. 

+++

You woke up with a gasp, cold sweat running down your body, and immediately William was by your side. You rested your head on his chest, grasping onto his shirt desperately, not wanting him to leave. 

“Shh, shh,” he cooed, running his fingers through your hair.

“Sorry,” you muttered, making no effort to leave his side. “I don’t know . . .”

“Shh.”

You both were like this for a while. Faint images of your dream passed through your mind, and from what little you remembered, you assumed it had been a wet dream. 

I can’t believe it, you thought. Having a wet dream — about a guy I barely met. Control yourself!

You pulled away, already missing his warmth. William frowned a little but didn’t say anything. “What’s your name, darling?” he asked. 

You hesitated.

“I told you, I’m not going to hurt you.”

“[Y/n],” you finally told him. “Where are we?”

William narrowed his eyes. You had a feeling he knew more than he was letting on, but you didn’t want to press.

“Wales,” William answered.

You froze. How the fuck did you get to Wales? What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck.

“Um, that’s nice,” you said awkwardly. “How long has it been since you found me?”

“A few days.”

You tried not to panic, but all you could think about was your job and your friends and your family. Have you been reported missing yet?

“You must be hungry,” William said. “I’ll cook something for you. I’m not the best, but I don’t want you to wear yourself out.”

“It’s alright.” You waved his concern off, though it did tug at your heartstrings that he was worried. “I'll get some fast food.”

You dug through your pockets, hoping your wallet was still in there. Thankfully it was. You pulled it out and grabbed two crisp twenty-dollar bills, but William hissed and pushed it back in, his hand not leaving yours. 

“What are you doing carrying around that much money?” he asked, giving you an incredulous look. “How are you meant to protect yourself? Where’d you get that? Do you have a husband?”

You pushed his hand away. “I work. And what’s the problem?” 

You knew that the American dollar wasn’t equivalent to a British pound, but was the difference that bad? Sure, forty dollars was a lot of money if you were just going to a gas station or something, but nothing to get excited over. 

William huffed. “You can’t just show me that much money like that. What if I was a thief, hmm? What would you do then?”

“Are you?” you asked, not understanding why he was making such a big deal out of it.

“No. I’m a gentleman.”

You scoffed, amused, but there was a little smile on your face. “A gentleman?”

“Yes,” he insisted. “A proper man.”

There was a moment of silence between you both. You wanted him to hold you again, but you thought it would be best if you just went on your way. 

“Thank you for taking care of me,” you said, getting up from the bed. “And bandaging me and all.” You gave him one of the bills. “I know it’s in dollars, but I’m sure you can convert it.”

William didn’t take the money. “You’re not leaving — you’re still hurt. I’d be remiss if I let a lass half as pretty as you alone on the streets.”

You chalked up his way of talking to the region. You honestly found it quite attractive. That, coupled with his British accent, made you feel like you were in one of those romance movies. You had to remind yourself that he wasn’t in love with you and that you were just acting irrational and horny.

“I’ll be fine. We’ll exchange numbers, do you have a charger?”

“What?”

“A phone charger. My phone’s probably dead.”

“The box?”

You narrowed your eyes. “No, the rectangle. The phone.”

“Ah, the one that glows?”

You briefly wondered if he simply didn’t know what a phone was. You knew some people preferred not to have modern technology in their life.

“Yes. I need to call someone — ”

“ — It stopped glowing.”

Great. William obviously didn’t have a charger. And if he didn’t know what it was, no one nearby would. All that was next to do would be to walk to a big city and hope someone there could help you get back home.

“Look, darling.” You ignored the way your heart fluttered when he called you that. “I don’t know what a phone is, or why you’re here, but I know that you still need to recover.”

“I appreciate it,” you said. “But I really have to go. I have work and — ”

“ — Surely you can take a day off. What is it you do?” William asked. 

“I’m a software developer. I code.”

William had a blank face. A pink blush dusted his cheeks. He cleared his throat, “I, er, I’ve never heard of that. You mean computers? The big ones that take up a room?”

“No, it’s not the fifties.”

“Well, 1946 is close.”

You didn’t know what to make of that. “What does 1946 have to do with this?”

William observed you intently. “The year. The year is 1946.”

You blinked. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t be the 20th century — that was impossible. So many things were wrong with that. How come it was you who traveled in time? Why didn’t the government know about this? Even if you were ignoring the question of how, there were still so many whys.  

“No,” you said slowly, inching away from William. What kind of sick prank was this? He was supposed to be helping you, not confusing you. “You’re messing with me.”

William sensed that you were uncomfortable, because he backed away, his hands in the air. You could tell he was waiting for the perfect moment to get closer.

“I’m not a liar . . . Are you from the future?”

Fuck. You weren’t sure. How could that even be possible?

“No,” you said hesitantly. “I dunno, I must be . . .”

Your eyes subtly peered past William and at the door. If only you could get past him . . . 

You looked straight at the window, making sure to grab his attention. “Oh,” you whispered, putting on your best shocked expression. The moment he was distracted you sprinted past him and bolted out of the room and out the house, running across the field to the next house you could see. Your arm still hurt, but you were willing to shove down the pain.

“No, no, please!” William shouted, running after you. 

In just a minute, he had caught up to you and tackled you to the ground. He pinned your hands above your head and sat on your lower stomach, rendering you useless. His lips were so close to yours, and the look on his face was pissed.

“What are you doing?” he asked, voice forceful, gripping onto your wrists tighter. 

“P-please,” you pathetically sputtered out. “Don’t hurt me.”

He didn’t budge. “I’m trying to help you — I’m not lying to you, and I’m not going to hurt you.”

“You’re hurting me now,” you cried, squirming.

William’s eyes softened as he realized what he was doing. “You promise not to run again?”

You nodded, your lower lip wobbling. 

“Alright.”

He still didn’t let go of you, but he did pull you up from the ground, wiping the dirt off of your back. Tears flowed down your cheek like rainwater, and you couldn’t help but curl in on yourself.

William held onto your arm as he walked you back to the house, not allowing you another chance of escape, but he did wipe your tears gently and soothe you. You felt embarrassed. Why did you run? You had acted purely on instinct there. This man was clearly only trying to help. 

“Look,” he said softly, sitting you back down on the bed like a child. “I’ll take you into town, hmm? Show you around and all — maybe that’ll convince you. You must be quite far into the future to be dressing like that and to have a . . . phone with you, so things will be different, right? What year are you from?”

“. . . 2023.”

“I knew it. On your phone, there was a date. I wasn’t sure then, but . . .” William suddenly reached his hands up and rubbed his thumb across your chapped lips, catching you off guard. “They’re dry,” he said. “I’ll draw up a bath for you so you can bathe while I cook. I’ll get you some lotion afterward.”

You nodded. What else could you do?

+++

William had cooked some simple fish and chips while you cleaned yourself. You had to use a tin tub, which was insane to you, but you didn’t complain about it. He supplied you with clothing, an old-fashioned dress his mother had accidentally left here. You were grateful it was not from some ex-girlfriend or wife, even though you had no right to feel that way. You put aside your other clothes to wash later.

After finishing with that, you sat down at the dining table, and like the hungry girl you were, you gobbled the food down eagerly. It was so fresh and delicious, not at all like the food you had in the future, pumped with chemicals and artificially bred. You tried to be as neat as you could, but it was difficult when you were starving. William had watched on with amusement, telling you to slow down and straighten your back every once in a while.

He took the plates away when you both were done, and then did as he promised and gave you some lotion, but instead of letting you apply it, he took a bit of cream on his fingers and rubbed it on your lips. “Stay still,” he murmured. 

“I-I can do it—”

“No, you can’t. You’re still injured.”

You understood his reasoning. And you didn’t mind him touching you like that.

“The rest of my body is dry, too,” you blurted out.

What were you thinking? You didn’t even know this man. Trying to get him to touch the rest of your body — stupid girl.

William’s breathing hitched. “As in . . . your knees as well?”

“. . .”

He cleared his throat. “Well, then. Put them out, over my lap.”

You bit your lower lip, watching on as he rubbed his hands over your legs. His touch was so warm and it felt more like a massage. You felt bad about doing this, leading him on. If he was right about the time travel, then you couldn’t entertain any sort of relationship with him. It wouldn’t be fair. 

But it was just an act of service. It didn’t mean much, right?

“Oh, that’s nice,” you said, resting your head on the bed. You felt a bit off allowing a random man to do this to you, but he wasn’t random now, was he? He had saved you. And besides, he was he who insisted he rub the lotion in the first place.

“What is the future like?” William asked. “Is there another war?”

“Sort of. Not really,” you answered, which panicked William. “Don’t worry. If you’re talking about America and Russia, no one dies.”

William chuckled. “I should hope not. I don’t fancy serving in another world war.”

“You served?” you asked curiously. 

“Yes. As a captain in the British Army.”

You supposed it was normal. Most men in this time either signed up for the military or were drafted. You couldn’t imagine the horrors William must have gone through. You would never be able to understand the trauma he carried with him. You were curious, but you knew better than to ask. He didn’t need your pity, and you certainly didn’t want to offend him.

“I’m sorry,” you said.

“For what?”

“That it had to happen. War and all that.”

“Does war not happen in the future?”

Now you felt a little stupid.

“Well — yes. It does. I’m just sorry. We learned about the world wars in history — and I just — I’m not claiming to know anything. Yeah, sorry.” You looked down.

William didn’t say anything to that. He just kept rubbing your dry skin. Afterward, he put the lotion away and sat next to you, running his fingers through your hair.

“I expect stories from you. I want to hear everything about the future.” 

You still didn’t believe you were in the past, at least, not completely.

 “You can tell me as we pass through town,” he added.

“I need to wash my clothes first.”

Willian narrowed his eyes. “You’re not going to wear that anymore.”

“Why not?”

He pursed his lips. “It’s too revealing. A woman should never go out wearing those types of clothing.” He sighed. “Perhaps it’s different in the future, but here, you’ll get hurt if you dress like that.” He continued playing with your hair. “I want you to be safe. So, you have to promise me that you’ll stay by my side at all times, yes?”

You nodded. You always thought that if you caught men talking to you like this, you would slap them, but here you were, turned on by William’s sexism. It was different, you reasoned. He was more focused on protecting you than restricting you. Was it bad that you found that hot?

“Good girl,” he said proudly. “Good girl.”

+++

Walking through town had been more of a frightening experience than you expected. You realized, without a shadow of a doubt, that you were indeed in the past. Producing a prank with this level of investment and money was pointless, and you never had any mental issues in the past, so why would one suddenly show up now? And even if it did, you couldn’t possibly be imagining this all in your head. 

All the cars were shiny and new, yet old models, ones that wouldn’t be produced in the future. All the women and men wore traditional clothing, like the dress William picked out for you. The hairstyles were medium-length and curled, or slicked back, with lots of gel and products used to keep them in place. You were grateful William didn’t ask you to do any of that. Not that you would have let him. At a certain point, you would have drawn a line.

“I have to get back,” you told William as you walked on a trail. “The machine has something to do with it. I just have to figure out how it works.”

“That’s an engineering job,” he pointed out.

“I’m good at math and science. I work in advanced technology, so I should be able to figure something out. All it needs is a bit of testing . . . I was wondering if I could stay with you for a while until I figure out a place to stay. I’ll give you all the money I have and I promise I’ll find a job — ”

“ — No need. Stay as long as you like. I don’t want your money. I won’t stop you from finding a job, but it’s not necessary. I can handle any expenses.”

You didn’t argue with him. He didn’t seem averse to the idea of letting a stranger stay at his place. It made sense. People in this time were more hospitable and open (at least, when they felt like it), and William, being a man from the forties, would never allow you to carry any of the financial burden.

You still felt a little bad. 

“Thank you. It means a lot to me. Now, what is it you want to hear about the future?”

William’s eyes lit up excitedly. “Do flying cars exist?”

You chuckled. “No. But we have self-driving ones.”

“Self-driving? How do they work?”

You paused. You had no idea. “I’m not sure. They probably have sensors to detect other cars. And, well, there’s a map. So it’s connected to a satellite . . .”

“Satellite?”

“It’s this thing in space. It does . . . stuff. It’s manmade.”

“Space? Have we discovered alien life?”

“No. But we have sent rovers to Mars and we’ve landed a person on the moon.”

William stopped walking. “The moon?” he repeated, bewildered. “Have you gone?”

I wish. “It’s only for astronauts. You have to be trained for that sort of stuff.”

“And when did this all happen?”

“Around the 1960s. There was a space race between America and Russia, and America won.”

Once you got the ball rolling, William would not stop asking questions. You answered them as best as you could and avoided topics like the current political climate and weaponry and all that. After he was done with all the serious stuff, like advancements in science and whether robots had taken over the world yet, he moved on to more social and cultural topics. You were relieved to find out that he wasn’t racist or homophobic or incredibly misogynistic. If anything he was rather tame about it all, and was glad that women had earned more rights, though he seemed upset that the dynamic of a gentlemanly husband and lady-like housewife wasn’t pushed upon society. 

“There’s nothing wrong with things going the opposite way around,” he had said. “Two people of the same gender marrying. It’s only that women need to be looked after, and if she doesn’t want to work, then it is her man’s obligation to do it for her. And in return, she must be obedient and serve him whenever he pleases — whether it’s by cleaning the house or . . . other things.”

“And what if she doesn’t want it?” you questioned, referring to the other things.

“A man should always make sure she likes it.”

You could practically feel all the feminism leaving your body at that.

The conversation ended when you reached back home (home? It’s not your home, you reminded yourself). William replaced your bandages with care. You were already starting to feel better, since the cut wasn’t too big, and you offered to help with cooking dinner this time.

After that, you decided to tinker with the box.

It was made out of some type of metal, with two different dials on the top and a button on the side. But it wasn’t like anything you’d ever seen before. The first dial went from zero to nine (zero being nulla) in Roman numerals, and had four hands, each of them colored in order: red, green, blue, and yellow. Respectively, there were four tiny colored knobs on the side, like the ones by a watch, where you could move each hand. The other dial was the same case.

“It must be the date,” you said aloud to yourself. “But which is which?”

Taking a gamble, you pressed the button, but it didn’t do anything. All it did was signal a small lens to start blinking red. 

“Are you sure you should do that now?” William asked, coming up from behind you. “Look at this.” He crouched to your level on the floor. “Your eyes have bags underneath them. You’re still tired.”

You rubbed the area beneath your eyes. Did they really have bags? You hadn’t realized.

“I should probably go to sleep then,” you said, putting the box down and getting up.

William walked you over to the bedroom, and was about to leave when you asked, “Where are you sleeping?”

“The couch.”

You frowned. “It’s your house and I’m your guest. You’ve already done so much for me – ”

“— If you’re going to suggest you sleep on the couch, then it’s a no. That’s final.”

“But — ”

“ — Final.”

You sighed. “Then come sleep with me. I’ll stay on the floor—”

“ — No—”

“ — Then we can share the bed. We’ll put a wall of pillows between us, like this.” You grabbed a pillow and placed it in the middle of the bed, separating the two sides. “Not so bad, see?”

William relented. “Alright.”

He crawled into bed with you. His hair fell over his face as he adjusted, and the last rays of sunlight coated his body in colors of orange and yellow. If your phone wasn’t dead, you would have asked him to sit still for a picture, because at this moment, he truly looked breathtaking. He was a beautiful man. You wondered if he knew it.

“What?” William asked when he noticed you staring.

Flustered, you turned your head to look up at the ceiling. “Nothing. I was just making sure you were comfy.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see William lick his lower lip. 

“You’re a sweet lass,” he commented. “You always think about others first.”

He reached over, and for a moment, you thought he was going to kiss you (which, admittedly, despite having had a wet dream about him, scared you), but he only brushed a small speck of dust off your shoulders and murmured “Goodnight”, before burying his chin into the blanket and drifting off into sleep.

You followed in suit soon after. A part of you was hoping that you could start a life here. You’d buy a nice house and live out a simple and peaceful life. You and William didn’t even have to be romantically involved. You could just be friends, and you would be happy with that. 

But a part of you also hoped that when you woke up the next morning you would be back in your own bed, in your small one-story house that you remember being so excited about buying. You knew you would never like living here in the long term. There were too many things wrong with this time and you didn’t want to be the brunt of its issues. Not only that but being aware of all the tragedies that would soon occur . . . Did you want to be faced with the moral dilemma of whether or not you should stop them? How would your presence affect things in the future? After living your whole life in 2023, you could never adjust to life in 1946. 

You had to find a way back. There was simply no other choice. 

+++

William showed you many things. Just as he was interested in the future, you were interested in the past. The things that excited you most of all were old-school versions of what you had in the future. Washing machines, refrigerators — they were all so different, yet the same, and it was fascinating. 

You even met a few people in town. They were nice enough to hold a conversation with, though they found it weird that you lacked decorum and the social understanding of the time. The women were chatty and mildly passive-aggressive, and the men — well, the men flirted with you quite openly.

William had told people that you were family, someone related but not close enough to be bothered with technical terms like cousin or niece. No one asked questions when you two explained it like that. All the men must have thought that if you were his family and that if you had no ring on your finger you must be looking for a partner.

You were charmed by their advances, but never serious about them. Besides, William hardly let them get a word in before he shooed them away.

By the time weeks and weeks had passed you became acquainted with everyone, seen every sight to see — including the swan lake William took you to — and become close enough to William that he opened up to you. You learned that while he wasn’t an orphan, his parents never held much interest in him other than the occasional birthday letter, and the reason he came out here so far away from the city was to find peace of mind.

You grew to admire him, and you were sure he grew to admire you, too. And soon, you started to feel a certain type of way. A way that made you daydream about all the things that could be, only for reality to stomp across it and remind you of the harsh truth. 

+++

William was driving a car, a modern car, your car. He was humming a little tune on the radio, singing some lyrics, hands loosely holding the wheel as he passed by a gas station. It was some Taylor Swift song, and you remember faintly thinking: Of course, he likes Taylor Swift.

He looked over to you. You were sitting by his side, a passenger princess, looking out the window. All of a sudden it was night and you two were driving down a lonely road, parking by the side of some lake. In the distance, you could hear crickets and ribbits, but you paid them no mind.

You were curled up in William’s arms, looking out the sunroof of the car, the light of the moon gently descending through the glass. You offered him a piece of chocolate, and you two just sat there, in the dark, nibbling on snacks and observing the sky, until you woke up.  

+++

William had to leave for work, like usual. He again told you not to leave his property line or stray out too far, which, again, was fine by you because most days were cold and bitter.

You spent your time messing around with the box, careful not to touch the wires in the back. Once you put your mind to it, you figured out how it worked. You paid attention to where the hands were currently located and found something promising. The first dial’s hands had the numbers I, IX, IV, and VI, and the second dial was nulla, IX, nulla, and V. Alone, you wouldn’t have been able to tell what the numbers meant, but with context, you understood. The first dial was the year, and the second one was the month and date.

You didn’t quite understand how the box brought you from the future, but that didn’t matter, as it was broken. There was a little loose piece on the backside that had been damaged — a little dent, probably when you were first transported here. All you had to do was plug it back in, but the only problem was, you didn’t have a screwdriver, and you certainly weren’t going to wrench your fingers near a bunch of wires.

When William came back you told him your solution. He agreed and said that tomorrow he would take you to a local store to buy a screwdriver, and he even apologized for not having one in his house. But for now, he said he wanted to take you out to lunch.

“Lunch?” you questioned nervously. Was he asking you out on a date?

You thought about it for a moment. You did want to go, but your mind was too preoccupied with getting back to your time. Besides, it wasn’t fair to him. You did like him, but you two could never actually be together. It was all in your head.

It’s all in your head.

“You know I’ll have to go back someday,” you said, watching William’s expression become more neutral as if he was hiding his emotions. “I dunno . . . I’m getting a little attached to you,” you said with a laugh, trying to lighten the mood.

William seemed to understand where you were going with this. “It won’t be like that. I wouldn’t blame you,” he said earnestly, taking a step forward. “We ought to enjoy our time together, while it’s still here.”

He made a valid point, enough to convince you. He had been doing that an awful lot. Convincing you. 

William took you out to a nice restaurant. The food was a bit plain, but it was good and wholesome. It reminded you a lot of William’s cooking, only fancier and more well-presented. Not only that, but the atmosphere felt calming and almost romantic. You noticed that most of the people here were couples, holding hands and giggling with each other, however young or old.

Was this William’s intention? Did he like like you? Or was this just him being courteous? You couldn’t imagine that many people here were used to dating or one-night stands. But you wouldn’t know unless you asked him, and you were too nervous to do that. Besides, you didn’t want to make a fool of yourself. William was a very traditional man, would he even want a woman like you? A 21st-century girl?

After you two were finished eating you engaged in another walk. 

“Come closer,” William said, holding out his arm for you to take. If you didn’t have any self-control, you would have jumped his bones right then and there. He was right. He was a gentleman. No man in the future would have done this for you unless they were trying to make a joke out of it.

You placed your hand on William’s arm hesitantly, trying to figure out the exact placement, walking side by side with him. It was a little cold, however, and you shivered, catching William’s attention almost instantly.

“Oh, you poor thing,” William cooed, talking of his coat and wrapping it around you. It smelled of him, a little musky, smoky like a cigarette, but in a very subtle way. “You’re so nervous. Have you never had a man do this for you?” he asked. “Hold out his arm for you to take, give you his coat?”

“No,” you admitted. “Men don’t do that in the future.”

“I do,” he said, stopping both of you in your tracks. The area was secluded, mostly covered in trees and bushes, far away from any passerby. “I would do that for my woman.”

It was quiet for a moment.

“Well,” you said, wistfully, “whoever she is she’ll be a lucky woman.”

+++

William took you to a local shop to buy a screwdriver next. It all felt very domestic, something that you could get used to. You imagined running errands like this with William in the future. He would be absolutely fascinated by a grocery store, by the internet, by everything. If you thought hard, you could see it — a wondrous smile on his face, a giggle escaping his lips. 

You tried not to think of it that much. After your fantasy passed your thoughts turned sad and cold, because you knew that would never happen. It will never happen. As much as you liked William, you missed your family, you missed your house, you missed everything.

When you both got back home, you plugged the broken piece in and screwed the nail. William watched on beside you, a frown on his face, drinking some tea.

“Here,” he said, inching closer, “I don’t want you exerting pressure on your arm. Let me do it.”

He grabbed a hold of the screwdriver, but he bumped into you in the process. With a gasp, he dropped his cup of tea. It shattered across the floor, glass pieces flying every, hot liquid (thankfully not boiling) splashing all over. You shrieked and backed away, watching as one of the glass shards cut right through one of the wires.

“William!” you snapped, but then your eyes turned watery, because of the cut on your hand.

He immediately went over to you, careful not to step on any glass, and picked you up bridal style, moving you away from the mess and towards the couch. 

“I’m sorry,” he breathed out, looking panicked. “It was an honest mistake — I’m so so sorry, I can’t believe I just did that — are you hurt?”

You laughed at the absurdity of it all, even though you were clutching your finger in pain. It was a very small cut, something that would be healed within a day. “Calm down, William. I’m fine. Are you hurt?”

He shook his head, looking worried, or perhaps, scared was the right word. Yet, you couldn’t figure out why.

“William,” you said slowly. “It’s fine. You do realize we can just fix the wire? I just need a heat-shrinking tube and a soldering iron, nothing I haven’t done before.”

“. . . Oh.”

His tone made you wonder about his intentions. You’d been so caught up on how good of a person he was, helping you and giving you room and food, but really, what was his motive? Because it almost felt like he was trying to get you to stay . . . It sent a sinister feeling down your spine, albeit a tug on your heartstrings as well.

What do you want from me, William? What do you want?

+++

More time had passed. It was difficult to acquire things in this small town, and it occurred to you that such resources were not readily available at this time. You didn’t want to bother William by pestering him to go into the city for materials, so while you would bring up the topic every once in a while, you mostly kept quiet.

You took the chance to relish your break. After all, you weren’t working. It was like a fully paid vacation, so you might as well take advantage of it.

William still had a job, but when he came back, you two would just talk and talk and talk, conversations so smoothly flowing that it felt like you’d known him for years. When you weren’t talking, you were still in each other’s presence, doing your own thing. Occasionally, William would make sneaky moves like wrap his arm around your shoulder, or do the la bise. He claimed he was part French, and it was part of his custom, but even if that were true, you knew the la bise didn’t involve full-on smooches on the cheek.

You never stopped him from doing things like that, but you also never reciprocated, despite how badly you wanted to. All this stalling wouldn’t change the fact that you still had to leave. Not only that, but you were starting to feel homesick. 

You missed calling your friends late at night, you missed watching colored TV, and you missed hot showers. You missed easy-access painkillers for your periods, and searching all your queries on the internet. You missed the future. Badly. And you could just feel that the day of return was near.

+++

“You dance, yes?”

Snapped out of your thoughts, you turned to William. You were both lounging on his couch, relaxing, talking, as the time passed by. He had given you a magazine to read, but you weren’t reading it, just dozing off.

You shrugged. “Yeah. I’ve gone to clubs. But — no, I can’t dance like that — William,” you whined, half-heartedly struggling as he pulled you up to you feet. “I’m going to ruin it, I don’t know where to place my feet or — ”

“ — You could never ruin anything, darling. Your presence alone is enough to satisfy me.” 

You looked away. “You can’t say things like that, William.”

“Why not?”

You took his hands off you before he could even start the music. 

“I don’t like it,” you lied.

William frowned. “That’s alright. Let me hold you. I know you enjoy that.” He chuckled. “When we first met you wouldn’t let go of me.”

The memory, still fresh in your mind, made you flustered. 

“. . . William, what do you want from me?” you decided to ask.

He furrowed his eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“I mean — what do you want from me?”

William licked his lower lip. “Nothing. I just want to take care of you.”

“But why?”

You could practically feel William’s nervousness. It was like when he dropped that glass. He radiated an almost jumbled energy, a desperate energy.

“Haven’t I made it more obvious?” he finally said, his hands on your waist. He brought his fingers up to brush the hair out of your face. “Am I not clear?”

You knew what he was going to say. But you wanted to hear it from him. “Clear about what?”

“I want you.” Your heart started beating. “I don’t care if you’re not from this time. I don’t care if you have a life in the future — I can be better. I can be your life.”

“. . . William.”

“Don’t take that tone with me,” he said, tilting your chin up so you could look him in the eyes. “I know you want me too. I can see it.”

“But we can’t,” you weakly protested.

“So is this what you do?” His tone grew more sharp. “Imagine things in your head and never act on them?”

You stayed silent. He was putting you in such a difficult position, couldn’t he see that?

“What’s wrong?” he continued. “Am I not good enough?”

“William,” you tried to pull away. “I have to go — ”

He locked you in his arms. Your body was so close your noses were brushing up against each other, and his voice dropped to a whisper. “Maybe you’re worried I can’t please you right.”

You could have shouted. Why was he being so forceful? You ignored the way your body grew warm — you couldn’t do this. You couldn’t and so you wouldn’t. 

“I don’t want it,” you lied again.

“Well, I told you, a wife should always submit to her husband’s desires.”

“We’re not married!”

“We will be.”

You froze.

William took your silence as an opportunity. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours, turning his head slightly as his hand rested on the back of your head. You were caught off guard but didn’t try to push away. It felt so nice, and warm and inviting. Why you were denying yourself this? Why were you denying yourself love?

When your lips parted, a string of saliva connecting you both, you placed your hands on his chest. You had an idea. A brilliant idea. Why hadn’t you thought of this before? “William. I still have to go, but — ”

He growled and lifted you up, carrying you over to his bedroom, tossing you onto the bed, and pinning you down on the mattress. “No. I won’t let you. I won’t let you! Don’t you understand? I’m perfect for you — I can — I can.” He looked miserable. In fact, he looked like he was about to cry. “Let me show you,” he said, determined. He started unbuckling his belt with one hand. “Let me show you what I can do.”

You hadn’t realized how hard William was, but when he finally took out his cock — fat and pale, with pre-cum leaking at the tip, his balls a little hairy, you gulped, the area between your legs getting wetter.

“Take off your panties,” he ordered. “And lift up that damn dress.”

You didn’t. To be honest, you were a little frightened by his behavior.

William sighed and did it for you, spreading your legs apart, only for you to shut them close. “You don’t even have a condom!”

“I’ll put out,” he said impatiently, forcing your legs apart again. You gasped, not expecting contact to be made so soon.

He rubbed his cock against your wet cunt, soaking himself. He had this satisfied smile on his face, eyes closed for just a moment, before he looked down at you. 

“I thought I’d have to warm you up a little,” he said. “You’re beau — stop it! Don’t struggle.”

He held your arms down as you writhed. “Please, William — I believe you,” you said. “You can fuck me good. Just listen — ”

William shook his head. “You’re the one who's supposed to listen. Listen and take it.”

With that, he pushed his cock in and started thrusting, hard and fast, your hands still pinned, his face contorted in pleasure. His moans were loud and shameless. He had his head right above yours, peppering small kisses on your lips. You tried to ignore how good it felt — him inside of you, but it was becoming increasingly difficult by the moment. 

“Ah, I knew you weren’t a virgin,” he said, noticing the lack of blood or discomfort. “That’s okay — I still love you.”

“Love?” you repeated, trying to focus, but your abilities were lost when he used his thumb to rub your clit. “Wa-a-it!”

“Don’t say that,” William said, his tone surprisingly soft given how rough his movements were. “I wouldn’t be doing this if I thought you didn’t want it. Just enjoy. Enjoy me.”

The bed was starting to creak, moving back and forth, rubbing up against the wood floor. Your breasts were bouncing, catching William’s eyes every once in a while. His cock slid in and out of you with precision, hitting that swollen part inside of you every time. His thumb on your clit only added to the intense sensation. 

Your eyes fluttered shut, and you stopped struggling. You let your head hit the pillow, mouth parted, breathing heavy and hot. At the same time, you were overcome with a feeling of hurt. You couldn’t deny that you wanted it, but for him to take you so forcibly . . . and for you to actually like it . . .

“Are you alright?” he asked, slowing down his pace a little. He looked you in the eyes. “Do you feel good?”

You thought about lying, about crying out No, please stop!, but that wasn’t the truth, and in the end, your desires overcame you. “Y-yes. I want more.”

William relaxed, and his grip on you loosened. He placed one hand on your hip, the other by the side of your head. 

“You’re beautiful,” he praised. “Every day I look at you and think of how grateful I am that I found you. Laying there in that field, little flowers around you. An angel. My angel.”

You wanted to tell him how grateful you were, too. That it was him who took you in and not someone else, but the words never came out, only sighs and moans, but he seemed to understand what you were trying to say. 

Another kiss.

“You’re soaking me. You’re soaking the sheets.”

A little embarrassed, you turned your head. “M’sorry.”

William forced you to look back at him. “Don’t be sorry. I like knowing how eager you are for me.” 

Another kiss, but this time he slipped his tongue in, sweeping against yours before he pulled away, a string of saliva breaking as he did.

“We’ll live here,” he continued, his thrusts becoming more erratic, “in this house. Together. I’ll take you to the movies, we’ll have picnics in the garden, and I’ll write you love songs on the piano. We’ll have children — a girl, I hope — and she’ll look just like you. It’ll be wonderful,” he promised. “I’ll make you so happy, and you’ll make me happy, too.”

You couldn’t help but ruin the moment. “If I did that I would never see my parents again.”

He frowned and didn’t say anything. Then, “I think you’re getting agitated. You need to come, that’s it. You need to come and then you’ll finally understand what it is you’ll be missing out on if you leave.”

“T-that’s not the point — ”

“ — I’m so close,” he murmured. “Fill you up, so damn tight. Ah, you’re perfect.”

When you realized what he meant your eyes widened and you shook your head adamantly. “You said you’d pull out!”

“That was before. I’ve changed my mind.”

You felt familiar pressure build up inside of you. You could imagine yourself, breasts big with milk, belly round and smooth, William reading children’s books to your unborn baby as if he could be heard. The thought alone made you sickly sweet, the idea that life between you and him could be so domestic.

But couldn’t he just wait for a moment?

“I’ll — ah — be with you — every step of the way,” he grunted. “I won’t leave you. So, don’t be scared.”

“William,” you said shakily. “Just listen — ”

But it was too late. Collapsing on top of you, William poured his hot seed inside your cunt, his whimper addicting, like it was something you could hear a thousand times over. A few seconds later, you fell victim to the same fate, and there you two lay, with each other, chests heaving, bodies sweaty and sticky, coming down from the heights of ecstasy. 

You could feel his heart pound against yours. Thump, thump, thump. And you could feel yours as well. To think that this man had just gotten you pregnant. It all happened so quickly. It happened so quickly and you were completely fine with it.

“William,” you said after finally catching your breath, turning to face him. “You know I still have to go.”

It was his turn to cry. His tears watered up, glassy, his lower lip trembling, but you could tell he was doing his best to keep it in. “But I love you,” he whispered. “Am I not enough?”

It broke your heart to see him like this. So vulnerable in front of you. It was then you knew you were making the right choice, a hundred percent. You had finally found your match. And to think that you almost let him go . . . 

“But I want you to come with me,” you said, hopeful. “Come with me, William. Come with me to the future.”

Taglist: @henrywintersdearestgirl @shroombloom-rry @meetmeatyourworst @mrkdvidal1989 @madnessandobsession @slut4thebroken @qqquartz7 @madeinuk

[envy-of-the-apple]

hii!!

i just saw that your requests are open. 🥹

i was wondering if you'd be okay with a request for a Soul Mate fic with a short!reader (5ft - 5ft2) who wears glasses x Yandere!Bakugo?

would it also be okay if the reader was written to be very sweet and caring to other people?

if you're not okay with the request for the reader's height/ glasses/ personality being too specific, then please, please ignore me.

thank you so, so much either way. 🥹

didn't specify which bakugou:))))

Yandere!Bakugou Mitsuki x reader

Doormat

(Warnings: toxic relationship, yandere, possessiveness, manipulation)

You tried to be a kind person.

You looked out for others, you cared deeply for your friends, you tried to make your parents proud of you. Eventually, your reputation became what you wanted it to be: dependable, responsible, kind.

Mitsuki had a habit of taking advantage of that.

"Again?" Suda scoffed.

You give a timid smile. "Sorry, but Mitsuki had a bad day today, so we're just gonna stay over at her place."

"Right." She rolls her eyes. "A bad day. Let her throw her trantrum alone. C'mon, we've been looking forward to this for a month! And suddenly you're just gonna ditch me like this? Those tickets were expensive!"

"I'm sorry," you repeat, truly apologetic, "Is there a way you could get a refund-"

"It's not about the tickets." Suda cuts you off. "It's about her. Seriously, when's the last time we've ever hung out with each other? I know you're in love, but can you really not see the way she's hoarding all your attention?"

Your mouth opens and closes. You don't know what to say to that.

Thankfully, you don't have to say anything.

Hands wrap around your shoulders, and a face nestles into your shoulder. The faint smell of something sweet floats in the air.

"Who's hoarding all your attention?" Your soulmate asks. She kisses your cheek.

Suda rolls her eyes at the blatant affection.

"Hey, Bakugou." She states. Mitsuki ignores her.

"What're you doing, here?" She asks you instead. "I asked you to wait for me after class, right?"

There's an edge in her voice that makes you shift around nervously.

"I needed to talk to Suda about the concert," you reply, "and also I was thinking I could-"

"Great! Since you're done with that, let's go home then." She interrupts, swinging an arm around your shoulder.

When you look behind you, Suda is shaking her head. Your stomach flips.

"A new cafe opened. Let's go there," Mitsuki says.

"Oh?" You give her a glance. "I thought you just wanted to go home. Didn't you say your professor really pissed you off-"

"C'mon." She bumped your shoulder with her own. "That was hours ago. Don't worry 'bout it."

You frown. If Mitsuki had gotten over her gripe so quickly, you wished she would have at least told you. Then, you wouldn't had to have that awkward conversation with Suda.

"Besides, I need to treat my soulmate out now and then, right?" She traces her name on your wrist.

Ah, there it was.

How the universe decided you two were the perfect match, you wouldn't know. Bakugou Mitsuki was top of her class, head of the cheerleading squad, an extremely useful quirk, came from a rich family, made people's heads turn. You were a quirkless nobody. You always feared that your soulmate would reject you because of how useless you were.

Mitsuki just calls you hers.

Maybe that's why you were so lenient on her demanding nature.

She pulls you through the cafe doors. You let her order for the two of you because 'its your first time here, obviously you're not gonna know what's good' even though it's her first time here too. A part of you wants to look at the menu, but she's already telling the waiter something and he's whisking off. It's fine. Besides, she's paying.

He comes back later with something too sweet and way too much whipped cream to ever be considered coffee. You don't complain. It's good. Mitsuki always has good tastes.

"Good right?" She reaches over, flicking away some whipped cream on the side of your cheek before popping her thumb in her mouth. You flush at her brash behavior.

"It's amazing." You honestly say. "Thanks for bringing me here."

She gives an affectionate smile.

"I just love spoiling you, sometimes."

You look away bashfully. She laughs.

It's a nice date. Mitsuki tells you about her project, how annoying everyone in her group is. If you could, you'd listen to her talk for hours.

But someone always tries to ruin it.

You don't know him, but he doesn't cast you a glance. Clearly, he's only interested in one person. He sits next to her with an easy-going smile. Flirtatious. You frown, sucking on your straw.

"Hey-"

"No." She instantly cuts him off. Just like that. No fake coddling, no polite smiles. She doesn't even glance at him. You hide your smile behind your drink. Your girlfriend's funny sometimes.

He puts his hands up immediately, scoffing with an amused smile. Then, he looks at you. Barely a glance. You don't even notice.

Mitsuki does.

The tone instantly shifts. She hisses, red eyes narrow to slits.

"Fuck off." She says, a sharp bite in her tone. You're grateful it isn't directed at you.

It surprises him. He doesn't expect it, clearly. Her voice is enough to jolt him up as he stammers through his words. When he's out of her sight, her lip curls into disgust.

"C'mon." She tells you. "Sick of this place. We're leaving."

You frown, looking down at your drink. She's already done with hers. You're only halfway through yours.

You stand up anyway, obediently following behind her.

She's still seething. You know she doesn't like it when people look at things that are hers. You know that well. When your fingers slip through her own, she relaxes, just the tiniest bit. You give her a shy smile.

Her grip tightens around yours.

You tried to be a kind person.

You looked out for others, you cared deeply for your friends, you tried to make your parents proud of you-

What a fucking lie.

You were just a doormat. You weren't kind, you weren't caring, you just bent over backwards for people. You needed to please others around you like a dog. You needed others to love you so you could love yourself.

It's why you were perfect for Mitsuki. You were too scared to ever say no to her. Hers to mold into her own image, a perfected being.

You were made for her. Of course you were.

You two were soulmates after all. Together forever.

[1u11ablues]

0 Days Since [Part 2] (Simon Riley x Reader)

Part 1

WC: 1.8k

Warning: Self-harm, angst, slight miscommunication

Reader overheard something that sets them spiralling.

"I wonder if it's truly worth it sometimes; the damn trouble of loving someone so fucking much that their pain cuts through you just as deep."

Soap reached for a firm squeeze on Ghost's shoulders; a reassurance, a silent understanding. 

"That, you have to decide for yourself, L.t."

He had decided that long ago. That he'll nudge you little by little out of your hole, cheer you up in his own gruff way for the little accomplishments—even as his body burned from the fire your resistance was determined to keep him out. 

A routine. Some tough love. It started as a concerned lieutenant wanting to help their sergeant from their own self-destruction. 

One morning he came to you and asked you to run with him—telling you that your stamina isn't  as good as everyone else's—and it just bloomed from there. 

It snuck up to him so unexpectedly; the affection, the want; that he was heaving at the end of one of your many running sessions with your hands on his back, as worried for him as he was for you before.

And then you told him that you liked him. And he told you that this could not happen.

But he sought you out anyway. "You're not getting off of our run just because I rejected you."

He found that he didn't like the distance you'd put in between you both. You said it's for your own good, because heartbreak was not something you could afford to be going through right then. Which was about the time that he found out you engaged in more self-destructive mechanisms than the drinking and smoking.

He couldn't stand it; you pushing him away further from your life when he wanted to know how you were doing, what you were up to. It was the frustration that made him confess.

"Fine! You fucking win, are you happy? I want to know how you are because I fucking care about you."

"I know you do-"

"No, you don't."

Somehow, you could read just what his eyes were saying.

"Lieutenant, I-"

"It's Simon. You call me Simon and I'm yours. And you tell me every single fucking thing that has you crying and hurting yourself, and you promise me you won't be doing that last part anymore."

It's worth it. Everything he'd done, he'd do all over again. Even if seeing you at your worst was part of it. Because one day, you'd finally see yourself how he sees you; hard headed, strong-willed, every bit as beautiful.

He strode to your quarters, body subconsciously bringing him to your door whenever his mind found its way to you, and saw that your door was unlocked. 

This morning, you look like you were finally starting to wash away the thick sludge of guilt and remorse that's chaining you to your bed, and he wanted to bring you out for a lap around the base. Just a walk. Just so your body knows that it's still pumping blood, your heart still beating.

He decided to open the door after a light knock. 

Your form, hunched away from him on the bed, a silhouette that stirred the uneasiness in the pits of his stomach. A ruined cupcake to the left, blue icing staining your covers.

"Love?"

You tensed. A sniffle. You've been crying.

Slow, gentle steps; him not wanting to startle you. "Are you okay, sweetheart?"

And then, a glint of metal. Freshly bloodied, the sight cutting deep into his heart. 

No , he thought, you were doing so, so well.

He didn't mention the relapse, didn't look at you like it was your fault, his mind scrambling to search for a reason for this to happen. His hands reach out to cover yours; the one holding the razor. As if taking a gun gently from someone threatening to hurt someone else—or just themselves.

"Talk to me, tell me what's wrong."

"It's my one year anniversary." You look at your arms. "Well, almost."

One year. Grueling, he's sure. But something to be proud of, right? What went wrong?

He rubbed a hand on your back, sensed you pulling away just a fraction. A fraction too much. He did something wrong. It was him, somehow, that made you relapsed, and he knew this because you weren't staring at him from the moment he'd entered your room.

"Love, did I do something wrong?"

Your shoulder slumped. He took that as a yes.

He moved with urgency, kneeling in front of you to look up into your face—with no care that his trousers were now stained by your blood. That, he could wash later. This? Untreated, it would spread. Take you with it, after all the hard work you'd done to heal.

"You have to tell me so I can fix it, sweetheart. I can't do anything if you don't say anything."

"You can't fix me. I'm not- I'm not worth your effort, Ghost."

Sometimes I think to myself if it's all worth it.

You'd hear but a snippet of what he'd said, and ran with it. Looking for a reason to confirm to yourself that you weren't enough. He hated that you think that way.

"Did you overheard me earlier, love? While I was with Johnny?"

At least you cared enough to nod.

"Listen. You misheard me, soldier. What I was talking about was  not about your worth. It's- how do I explain this-"

He wasn't one to talk this much, especially when it comes to such things as feelings. But, if it'll help you, then God help him, he'll exhaust his words for the year just to let you know how fucking wrong your perceptions of yourself are.

"-it's about love. And pain. If one can exist without the other."

At this, you finally reciprocated his stare.

"You're in pain?"

He chuckled. Trust you to ask about his well-being while he's worried to death about yours.

"Not much more than usual. I was telling Johnny how it hurts me to see you spiral. Every relapse, every self-loathing comment. It hurts me as much as it hurts you, love."

He stood up. Headed to your dresser.

"Stay there, I'll clean you up."

He pulled a brown bandana from the top drawer and wet the fabric with the water from an unopened bottle set on top of your nightstand.

"If it hurts, why bother even staying?"

Gently, his hands worked on patting and wiping off the dried blood from your arms. The first aid kit already by his side, easily obtained.

"Because seeing you happy makes it all worth it. That you'd eventually heal, and be able to see the world like you did before—I would take helping you through millions of nights like these just so I can see you smile again one day. And mean it."

There was a time for tough love. There were times for coddling. Right now, he had no idea what you wanted, which way he should push to lift you up from your episode. So he settled for just being there; his default. Trusted you to tell him should you need anything. After all, you and him did try to be better at communicating.

"I have to start all over again."

It must've been disheartening, watching one's progress go down the drain like that. He didn't want this minor shortcoming to wrench you off your path to recovery, so he hoped his presence, his words—however little—would help.

"Recovery is not a linear thing, love. You get sidetracked. Thrown off. What matters is you go back to your path after that and continue on. Your effort before was not wasted because of this."

"It wasn't?"

His eyes soft as he looked up at you, trying to dab antiseptic on your cuts as gently as he can while he played mentor. 

"No. It's like muscle memory; you already have the skills to do it. All you have to do now is continue with the practice. I'll help you, see?"

A bandage, two, plastered on your freshly medicated cuts.

"If you forgot, I'll remind you again. You're worthy. You're needed. You're going to be okay. I love you. Over and over, until your brain accepts that as normal."

Three bandages. Four. There were more than he expected.

"I don't want you exhausted."

His thumb caressed the tear stains from your cheek.

"Do you get tired, helping me through my flashbacks, my nightmares?"

 You shook your head. He knew what your answer would be, asked it anyway to make his point. You loved him just as much. Had helped him through harder moments.

"Then why do you think I'd be tired of you? I'm a fucking soldier. Been through wars. Hell of battles. A partner in need is the least of my worries."

"I guess-"

"No guess. Be sure. What is it that made you doubt me?"

Your eyes widened, hands shooting up towards the sides of his face to hold him, pull him close. He leaned further into you.

"I don't doubt you. I doubt myself. I always thought you were with me out of pity."

He snorted. Pull your head down to plant a kiss on your forehead.

"I don't do pity. Not like this. I don't make it my mission to help someone through something unless I really fucking like them. "

It was honestly insulting how little you thought of yourself and of his impression of you. Scarcely had he kissed the mouth of a bottle as soon as you started dating, wanting to be a good example that it could be done. The cigarettes he'd bought months ago, untouched in the pocket of his coat. You both agreed to this; to discard the harmful coping mechanisms for better ones.

He never fucking cared how bad the substance was to his physique. But as soon as you mention wanting to be each other's accountability partner, he quit everything cold-turkey, like an idiot. 

There's no one else he would rather go through withdrawals with.

"I fucking like you. I love you. You don't get to assume how I feel about you, darling."

Your gaze slid to your side. Reaching for the smashed cupcake, pout evident on your face— but not from being upset—you carried the treat gently into the palms of your hands like you were holding a baby bird.

"This was supposed to be for you. As thanks."

"Has it been on the floor?"

You shook your head.

"Just a little rough handling. And my bed."

He leaned down to take a bite of it. Have you wipe the blue off his lips with your thumb, the smell of antiseptic piercing his nose.

"I love you too, Simon. Let's start again."

[jaehunnyy]

The sound of our tied souls

Genre: soulmate!au, rockstar!au, kinda enemies-to-lovers but not really, a bit of angst, fluff, happy ending

Word count: 3.3k

Pairing: rockstar!San x fem!reader (feat. reader's best friend x Mingi)

Warnings: swear words (quite a lot), time-skip, kind of a bad guy attitude—San's a bit of a jerk at the beginning but he has a character development :), soulmate rejection, mentions of some jealous fans, kinda slow-burn, one kiss, possible grammar mistakes

A/N: this oneshot is part of @sungbeam's soulmate collab, which i was so proud to be part of; thanks for the opportunity, love 🤍

You got woken up by that annoying song again, your beauty sleep being thrown away for the rest of the night—cause it seemed like your soulmate had no sleeping schedule. You couldn't understand how he could listen to this all the time, you often wondered if his hearing was still intact—cause the loud growl of what seemed to be an electric guitar could surely manage to make you deaf by now. 

You have first discovered your soulmate bond after your 16th birthday, when you began hearing rock music everyday. Everyone was talking about how sweet their marks were: a tattoo with the letter of their significant other's name, a highlight in their hair matching their future partner's color, and the list could go on. You, on the other hand, had to struggle with listening to something you absolutely despised, without thinking that your soulmate returned the same feeling to your music choice. With a mischievous smile on your face, you made your way to your piano, starting to play one of your favorite songs. God, if only you knew how frustrated your soulmate got. 

"San, you messed up again! Can you fucking focus?" Hongjoong, the leader of their group, Guerrillas, shouted, watching as the culprit lowered his head. 

"I can't, Joong. I can't, because all I hear right now is Für Elise, and it messes my head up!" he shouted too, pulling his hair back in frustration.

The others looked at each other with confused looks; was there something they didn't know? Without actually meaning to, Mingi bursted into laughter, leading Wooyoung to chuckle as well. 

"Since when do you listen to classical music?" he asked San, smirking playfully. 

"I don't. That thing you call soulmate does." 

"You're hearing what your soulmate listens to?!" Wooyoung exclaimed, covering his mouth in shock. 

"Yeah. But you know I'm not into this shit of yours, so let's get back to practice. I'll try and focus." he simply said, taking his guitar again, the strap attached to it hugging his torso perfectly. 

Seonghwa shrugged and signaled the others to start playing, their practice session blooming once again. You could swear that he'd never played music that loud before; it felt like a competition between the two of you, and you smiled at the thought of having him so frustrated. You didn't know who he was nor how he looked, but you were ready to make his life a living hell, as much as he had started to turn yours into one.  

At one point, the music stopped and you managed to sleep a bit, but it was way too little for your liking. You woke up at the sound of your doorbell, your best friend standing behind the wooden door. 

"You won't believe what my boyfriend got me!" she said as soon as you opened the door, barging into your house like it was her own. 

"Do I wanna know?" you sighed, thinking that your best friend's excitement meant chaos. 

"He got me two tickets at his band's concert! We're gonna see the Guerrillas!" she jumped, pulling the two golden-like tickets from her pocket. 

She and Mingi—her soulmate, met a while ago, and since then, she was always talking about him and how much their music grew on her. She must have been so happy now, that her world had finally earned its colors. Her and Mingi's soulmate mark consisted of seeing the world in black and white, until the two of them met. You still remembered how fast they agreed on becoming a couple, and you still wondered how they made it work so well. You knew how proud she was of her boyfriend, mainly because it was the third time she was trying to convince you to go with her, thinking that it would be, somehow, her lucky chance. 

"There's no way I'm going to a rock concert." you protested, crossing your arms. 

"There's no way I'll leave you alone until you say yes." she smirked, shoving one of the tickets in your jacket. 

Nice try, you thought, before taking a moment to actually read the information on the ticket. How bad could it be, after all? Maybe, in this way, you could find more about your soulmate's favorite genre of music. You also thought it was maybe an occasion to meet Mingi's friends; you knew he was in the college's rock band, though you've never met them in this formula.

"Fine. I'm only doing it for Mingi's effort to get you these." you said coldly, side-eyeing your friend when she gave you a bear hug; it was gonna be a long week.

While the two were already making plans for the big day, the boys took a break from their intense practice session, starting to talk about whatever traveled their mind while drinking a can of energy drink. San was absent from their conversation, fidgeting with his calloused fingers, the effort of always trying to hit the right strings showing. The thought of having a soulmate was really burdening him, he didn't want to spend his energy searching for someone he didn't even want to meet. Little San would probably be disappointed, because all he has ever wished for was to grow up and meet his other half. Arts student San, though? He didn't need anything else as long as he had his guitar by his side; a capo and some sheet music could easily solve his problems. But he couldn't stand the thought of someone constantly hearing the feelings he tried expressing through music; it made him feel vulnerable, like he had no personal space anymore.

"San, do you agree with the outfits we've decided on?" Jongho asked, looking curiously at the way too quiet boy. 

"Huh… yeah, sure, sounds great." he replied, avoiding the way Yunho raised his eyebrow at his reply. 

"You didn't pay attention," he sighed, before adding some other words: "Something's definitely bothering you, so talk to us." 

"Is it because of your soulmate? Why don't you just search for her?" Wooyoung asked, feeling the way the elder tensed. "It should stop after you meet, right?" 

"Meeting her means that I have to be committed, and I don't want to commit to her." he spat, putting emphasis on not wanting to do so, and without bothering to spare his friends the slightest glance, he just took his things and left them speechless, in the middle of the studio. 

The week passed fastly, the not-so-wanted (by a certain someone, 'cause the whole college actually went crazy for it) concert finally coming to life. The boys were backstage, trying to memorize their lines or chords for the last time. You and your friend would be late though; because she couldn't let you wear the clothes you would usually wear. 

"I can't believe you want to wear a coat to a rock concert," she sighed, slightly amused by your antics. "They cover songs like Smells Like Teen Spirit, Sweet Child O' Mine and more, and they will most likely sing their own songs as well. This isn't Antonio Vivanti." 

You let out an offended scoff, grabbing the leather jacket she was trying to put on you and wearing it, despite the ick the weird material was giving you. "And it's Vivaldi, by the way. Pay respect!" 

"Yeah, yeah. C'mon, or else we will be late!" 

Luckily for her (‘cause you tried to lose as much time as you could), you arrived just when they settled on stage, greeting the ones who came to see them. You couldn't say you weren't a bit jealous whenever you saw the way her and Mingi looked at each other—because it did something to you. But you were scared of being rejected, pretty sure that the soulmate thing wasn't as easy as it seemed. 

Your thoughts were brushed off by the loud sound made by the mix of instruments, making you flinch, to your friend's amusement. Not being able to sneak outside because of her hand constantly holding yours, you decided that the least you could do was to pretend you were enjoying it. The others seemed to have fun too, even the boys, who really owned the stage—until something stole the show. San was taken aback by the way his in-ears worked—or so he thought. The same song they were performing was playing in a faded but bothering way in his ears, making him look at the others with a questionable look. He then made a few gestures to the staff, waiting for the song to stop so he could go and see what was wrong. Hongjoong looked at him worriedly while still focused on his bass, meanwhile Mingi almost messed up while playing the drums. 

"We will be back in a few minutes, wait for us, okay?" Jongho screamed, hoping to keep the audience busy for a bit, while the others went to see what was wrong with San; their mics weren't off, though. 

"There's nothing wrong with your in-ears, San. They work perfectly," the staff informed him, a few curse words leaving his mouth. 

"What if your soulmate is at the concert, San?" Yeosang asked innocently, almost like a joke—though the younger boy freezed in his place. 

The audience went crazy; some fangirls gasped and started to whisper several things about San's potential soulmate, meanwhile some of them had the same reaction as San. Some of them even started to run, looking suspiciously at every single girl they saw. "San has a soulmate?", "God, what did she do in her past life?", and so many other phrases that made you scoff. Who was this San and why was he so popular? The influence of his jealous fans spreaded through the whole venue, making the staff finally notice their mics and turn them off, though it was too late—the fuss was already created.

"I don't think that's the case—" Seonghwa tried to protest, but San stopped him. 

"I think that's exactly the case." San looked at them, before throwing his in-ears somewhere. "What should we do now? I don't want to perform anymore." 

"Then… let's wrap it up." Hongjoong sighed, before going back on stage. "Due to some unfortunate events, we need to stop here, darlings. Don't worry, we will come back soon!" He bowed and left the stage, leaving the fans high and dry. In other circumstances, nothing could have made him leave the stage that easily; he would have found a solution. But seeing how messed up his friend was, it made him want to try and understand him, he was going through a quite special phase, after all.

"I will go ask Mingi about what happened, do you want to come?" your friend asked, though your answer didn't even matter, she was already dragging you after her. 

She greeted her boyfriend and the others as if they knew each other since forever, asking them about what was wrong. 

"San hears whatever his soulmate is listening too, and he has only told us a few days ago," Mingi said, wrapping an arm around the girl's waist. 

Your eyes widened at what he said, but you decided to keep composure—maybe it was just a coincidence. 

"And she is into classical music, it's so frustrating. Why would she come to our concert?" San snapped, ignoring the guest his friend's soulmate brought. 

It all made sense to you then. You probably didn't realize the music coming from him because you tried to enjoy the new experience, but it made sense. The two-tone haired boy, the arrogant San everyone was talking about was standing in front of you—moreover, he was your soulmate; and he didn't seem too happy with the idea of being bonded to someone. 

"Who's the lady next to you?" Wooyoung asked, feeling the need to make you feel implied in the discussion. 

"She's Y/N, I dragged her here with me," your friend laughs awkwardly. "She's not a fan, but Mingi got me two tickets so I made use of them." 

"Oh! Do you happen to hear rock music sometimes?" Wooyoung asked, smirking playfully. 

"Uhm… no, sorry." you said, looking at San, who was already looking suspiciously at you. He was really arrogant, you wished to be able to reject him, but he seemed to do it first. 

"Even if she was, I told you guys I don't care. My soulmate can go search for another one." he said, before leaving them, once again. You were the next one to leave, not even caring about the possibility of giving your little secret away.

Even after a few days, you couldn't deny the emptiness you felt the moment you were indirectly rejected by your soulmate—it was definitely noticeable, somewhere in your heart. It was safe to say San didn't feel as good as he thought he would either, even when he rejected the one he was assigned to live his whole life with on purpose. He figured out it was you, because he stopped hearing the once annoying music; but he missed it. And the news about his soulmate was spread in the whole college as well, not helping at all; they were making even the outsiders interested in the tea going on. 

"I'm tired of this shit, guys. I won't come to practice today." 

Hongjoong looked at him once again, nodding, not knowing exactly how to comfort his friend in this situation, words long forgotten. San started to walk in the direction of where the studio was, his ears filling with the melodious sound of a piano playing. Like it was a habit of his, his legs guided him to the door, which he cracked open, just to reveal you playing the piano. Your fingers moved skillfully along the piano keys, Debussy's Clair de Lune resonating beautifully in the room. The sweet melody managed to comfort him somehow; he didn’t know if it was the calming nature of the song or the closure he was supposed to have with you, but he felt relaxed, listening peacefully until the painful silence started to bother him. He then took the matters into his own hands—in such a San way. 

"You’ve got some skills, soulmate," he said, his lips stretching into a little smile, though a little dimple made its appearance still. 

You got a bit surprised by his presence, but stopped what you were doing, to return a small smile and answer him. 

"Thank you. I guess you do too." 

"Was that Beethoven?" he asked curiously, sitting on the chair in front of the piano, next to you. 

"Claude Debussy, but A for effort," you said, smiling at his attempt. 

A wave of silence spread across the room, before you decided to break it: "We got off to a bad start, but we can still repair it. I'm Y/N," you said, sticking your hand out to him. 

He grabbed it, shaking it softly. "I'm San, nice to meet you again." He waited for another reaction of yours, but seeing that you didn't plan on saying anything else, he made the next step: "Let's be friends." 

You spent most of the day with him, sharing tips and talking about your opposite passions—though it was well known that opposites attract. Now, that you've gotten to know him a bit better, you could say he was more than just an arrogant guy. 

One month passed since your first interaction with your soulmate, and you would have never expected that there would be more; yet here you were, watching as he excitedly got two tickets from his pocket. 

"You're invited to our concert tonight! My treat this time, for you and our friend." he winked, handing the same golden-like tickets to you. 

"I'll be there, Sannie." you smiled, giving him a side hug before running to your class. He smiled softly, not believing the effect love could have on him.

Furthermore, tonight's stage would be an important one for him; it could mean accomplishment or failure, but he was still willing to try. The boys found him smiling like an idiot—but they enjoyed it, they could tease him about how a certain someone made him change. He never failed to amaze them, but someone definitely brought the best in him. He watched as the boys looked at him, his freshly dyed hair glowing nicely into the dim lights. His hands were covered in a pair of fingerless mesh gloves, fingers full of rings, while his t-shirt was nicely tucked in his leather pants. Some chains were dangling on his neck and waist, and a fake lip ring laid on his lower lip, completing the rockstar look he opted for. 

"Where's San and what have you done with him?" Yeosang joked, entertaining the other seven boys in the room. 

"Shut up, Sang. Are you ready?" Seonghwa asked, taking his mic and retouching the last details for tonight's show. 

"Never been more ready." San smiled, taking his guitar and being the first one to get on stage. 

"Hello guys, thank you for coming today too!" Wooyoung exclaimed, getting ready to perform at his best. 

You and your friend were somewhere in the front row, singing along with the other fans who came to see the eight boys. You were bouncing with her, enjoying the genre you softly became addicted to, but it was surely an influence San had on you. You didn't know what happened to you, but you still had hope, that maybe something would change his mind. Suddenly, the culprit's voice was heard in the whole venue, catching your attention and making you stop whatever you were doing. 

"As you all know, one month ago, I met my soulmate at the concert we held in the same place. I'd like her to join me here, please, Y/N?" he smiled, gesturing for you to get on stage, next to them. 

You looked confusedly at your friend, who pushed you in the direction of the stage, playing their game. You got there, finding yourself in front of the crowd and waving awkwardly at them, not expecting to hear their loud screaming. 

"I know I was a bit of a douchebag at the beginning, and that was definitely not the way you wanted us to meet. I messed up, but I hope you can forgive me." 

The fans cheered up louder, while a big smile found its way to your face, making the boy's lips stretch into one as well. 

"I know I rejected you at the beginning, but let me try to fix things. I hope it's not too late," he laughed softly, before continuing: "Have you started your looking for another soulmate project yet?" 

You burst into laughter, nodding as no a few times. His cheeks got colored in a crimson red tone, and you could swear you've never seen anything cuter than a shy rockstar.

"Can I have the chance of being the lucky one, then?" he asked and watched as your expression changed, nervousness noticeable in his voice as well. 

"I thought you considered yourself unluck—" Wooyoung interrupted, but Jongho was fast to cover his mouth and prevent him from saying anything else. "You're screwing the moment, Woo." he said, mouth still pressed on his older friend's mouth. 

You laughed at their antics, taking the mic from San's hand. 

"As much as you've annoyed me, I still like you, Choi San. I always did, which is why I would actually love to give you this chance." 

As soon as you finished your romantic little speech, he cupped your face, pressing his lips on yours softly. The fans went crazy, cheering and jumping as the two of you sealed the promise of loving each other forever with a soft kiss. 

"With these being said, I'd like to announce the title of our next album, entitled The sound of our tied souls!" Yunho said, making the night of every single soul attending that concert, the stars shining even brighter above their heads.

You pressed your forehead on San's, admiring his beauty while your noses rubbed lovingly against each other's. The road you had to walk on to find your soulmate was a tough one, but looking back on it, you wouldn't want it another way; you were too excited for your future with your other half—the arrogant boy you started to love, the one destined to be eternally yours. 

[zyhkoo]

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eye candy ♡ willy wonka 2023

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✦✦ 𓏏𓏏 ms. y/n rosewell, a famous botanist has come back from town after a year. she had returned with special flowers from her trip and famous willy wonka has caught her attention. will they get along? ♡ wattpad link part 2

"Thanks for the hand, kind gentleman! Your pay is in at the counter over there," you grinned as you placed a package on the table. It had been a year since you had traveled the world, and the town you resided in appeared more vibrant and bustling than before. Everyone in town appeared more happy and cheery than the previous time you came, which was quite the lovely sensation.

You unpacked the boxes and set some flowers on the shelf; a few boxes required strength to lift, but you were able to do it. You brought home a variety of flowers, from common to unusual, and basic to exotic. It was difficult traveling with flowers for a year; some didn't make it back to town. But that is what it is; you were just happy to bring home beautiful flowers for others to admire.

You were a well known botanist, your flowers were known well throughout the town. If a loved one received flowers from your shop, it was basically a flex. Some people recognized you on the way and were delighted to see you, while others briefly stopped to see if they can purchase a couple of flowers. But you rejected, saying you wanted to start selling when your business reopened for everyone.

Finally, after hours of effort, you placed the last flower on the shelf. You wiped your sweat and looked around. You were really proud because all of your gorgeous flowers were placed exactly where you intended them to be.

The sun was beginning to set; tomorrow would be the day you reopened your small shop.

Up your shop, there was your room. It wasn't too big nor too small, it felt just right. You didn't care about fancy things, as long as you felt happy you'll be fine. Flowers brought you joy but was that really all?

You never really had friends, only acquaintances. You were an orphan raised by a botanist who passed when you turned 16.  You had a step-sister who went missing. Who else was there for you? No one ever wanted to see you other than for your flowers. It was kind of a sad thought, maybe this year you'll find someone.

You exhaled, shaking the ideas from your brain. After you finished your bath, you put on your favorite nightgown. You peeked out the window before going to bed. The town lights were stunning; they appeared like stars emerging from the earth. The stillness soothed your senses, and you no longer felt alone; it wasn't that horrible.

It was getting late, so you blew out the candle and went to sleep.

You switched the sign in front of your door, you were now open for business. You watered and re-arranged the flowers for a bit, suddenly the wind chime jingled making it get your attention. The person in the door was Mr. Wesley, he had a box of chocolates in his hand and had a very formal appearance.

"Mr. Wesley, good to see you again." you told him with a soft smile "Its good to see you as well Ms. Rosewell! As soon as I heard you were back, I just had to come again." he told you "Oh I'm quite flattered, Flowers for your girl again?" You asked crossing your arms.

Thomas Wesley was one of your usual customers, he'd always pick a bouquet every 2 weeks for his beloved partner. He didn't have much with him, but he was willing to do whatever to make his beloved sweetheart happy. "Yes, shes now my wife." a bashful grin was written on his face. Your eyes widened in surprise "Oh really? Congratulations, I suppose shes a Mrs. Wesley now." you chuckled.

He smiled, "Yes, my brother helped me with the wedding, I couldn't done it without him. I wish you were there though, you had the finest of flowers in the town."

"Oh please, theres a lot of botanists here. But anyway, what would you like this time?" you asked him.

He looked around your shop for a bit "I need something for Valentine's day tomorrow. Maybe something big? I have 12 silver sovereigns right now, is that enough?"

Oh right, it's Valentine's day tomorrow. Valentine's Day used to be one of your busiest days; men would frequently purchase bouquets for their loved ones during the month of February. In exchange, you received a large number of sales, however working long hours exhausts you greatly.

"I can give you one of my best bouquets, I've already made a few while going back from my trip. What do you think about this one?" you asked, as you gave him a large bouquet. It had different types of pink and purple flowers and it had a gold bow wrapped around it with white accents.

"It costs 20 silver sovereigns, but since you don't have enough. You can pay me 7, oh and you can pick one of those roses over there for free. Consider it a late wedding gift." Ms. Wesley smiled "Thank you Ms. Rosewell! My, this is truly stunning. My wife will love this."

He placed the money on the counter, along with a small bar of chocolate. You looked down and stared at the bar of chocolate that he left. You called out Mr. Wesley. "Mr. Wesley, you left this?" you said, holding the bar of chocolate. "Oh, its for you! Taste it, it's the best chocolate in town." Mr. Wesley replied as he left your store.

You looked at the chocolate and flipped it over and saw the word Wonka. You blinked "Thats a silly name.." you chuckled, you unwrapped the chocolate and broke a piece. You took a tiny mouthful, and while it first tasted like regular chocolate, it soon acquired an odd tone.  It was unlike any other sweet, and it tasted fantastic.

You were more of a fan of bitter or not-too-sweet chocolate. You were unable to define this feeling, though; it seemed different. It's just really delicious.

You wanted to know more, you went outside and saw a boy selling newspapers. He waved the newspaper around while trying to get people to buy his newspapers. You approached him "Excuse me young boy, do you have anything about.. Wonka?" the boy casted a glance at you.

"Aye! Right here, I have this. All ya need to know about him is right here." you smiled "Thank you, how much is it?" The boy answered, "Just 5 silver sovereigns." yikes quite pricey. "Thank you, have an extra 5." you told him as you gave him 10 silver sovereigns.

You quickly went back to your store, it says Willy Wonka's chocolate factory. "Huh, silly name." you said. It was about a man who created the most delicious chocolates, he got rid of the candy cartel as well. You never agreed with the candy cartel, your step-sister once worked for them only to never be found.

You missed your found family, they were your big inspiration. You stopped dreaming when your sister vanished. You were so desperate to stop dreaming that you couldn't even recall what your aspirations had been. But it was time to move on, dwelling in the past was not healthy and it was time to focus on the future.

You kept the piece of newspaper under your drawer, more customers came into your store. You guided the people who had trouble picking flowers for their special someone, you wrote a few notes on the bouquets, and in the end of the day you got money.

"Thank you Ms. Rosewell!" said a girl as she waved goodbye "Excuse me miss, but what flowers do you recommend? I'm just looking for a single flower to give to my momma." a boy asked "What exactly is your mother like?" you asked "She.. shes quite classy thats for sure." he replied.

The boy's clothes were a mess, he had a few dirt on his face and wore a small beret. He looked poor, he reminds you of yourself when you were a young small child.

You handed him a flower called The Noir Love rose. You obtained these flowers from a dark cave, and they illuminated in the dark, comparable to a fairy light. Once plucked, these flowers harden and never die. However, once they are back on soil, they only have three days to live.

"Here's The Noir Love Rose. This unusual flower can only be discovered in the deepest darkest of caves; once picked, these roses harden forever." You told the boy, "However, if you plant them back in soil. They'll have three days to live."

The boys eyes twinkled "Wow, thats so interesting! Thank you, momma will love this." he grinned "How much is it?" the boy asked, ready to get his money.

You softly patted his head "Don't you worry young one, its for free. Now give it to your mother." the little boy smiled and ran off.

"How generous." you heard a young man enter your shop, "Hello Mister, what can I do for you?" You weren't looking at him, you were focused on rearranging the flowers on your shelves. The young man hummed "Interesting request, but can I buy some Burberry smite flowers?" you perked up and looked at him.

"An odd request indeed, what do you need it for?"

He had curly hair, a crane, a brown top hat, and a scarf. You attempted to find the best words to describe him, and your final impression was that he resembled a big puppy.

"For chocolate miss." he replied

Chocolate..?

You crossed your arms "I don't think Burberry smites are edible." you told him "Oh, anything is possible with me miss." he softly smiled at you "You look familiar," you said approaching him "Well, I am well known around this town." he laughed.

Curly brown hair, a top hat, a scarf and a crane and the passion for chocolate.

"Are you Willy Wonka?"

"Indeed I am!" he said, tipping down his hat. "And you're Y/N Rosewell am I right? The daring botanist who toured the world in search of lovely flowers to offer to people in love." you chuckled "Is that really what people think about me?" you said "Why of course, anyone would die to get a flower from you. I've heard a lot about you, Ms. Rosewell."

"I'd say the same Mr. Wonka, you have great talent." you praised back.

Willy chuckled "Flattering, now about the Burberry smites.." he placed a hand on the counter "How much do they cost?" you hummed "Quite a lot Mr. candy man. They're really hard to get, they're my most expensive flowers." you replied to his question.

Burberry smites were extremely difficult to get; they are located in deep underwater caverns, typically near an undersea volcano. Despite its name being akin to "blueberry," it was purple. It also had a lovely aroma, and it was thought that anyone who smelled the Burberry smite would fall in love with the next person they saw.

However, this generally occurs when the fragrance is strong and it takes time for someone to truly fall love someone.

Willy asked "So how much would it be, Ms. Rosewell."

"100 thousand sovereigns." 

"Huh."

For a brief moment there was silence "Quite a lot, but understandable. They are a trouble to get." Willy said "Say, are you interested to bargain with something else?" you tilted your head "What would it be Mr. Wonka?" you asked the candy man. Willy chuckled "Well you already know the only thing I have is chocolate."

"Hmm, your chocolate is quite delicious. But is it worth a flower?" you told him "Haha, well you see Ms. Rosewell. The town festival is coming soon, and I'd like to impress people by making a wonderland full of sweets." Willy told you "You're quite the dreamer Willy Wonka." you chuckled.

Right, the festival was approaching. For two weeks, the townsfolk would celebrate the town's anniversary. It was a really hectic and crowded week. So you normally close till the festival is over. Although, you loved wandering around the festival. You'd frequently go shopping while also enjoying the silly games.

It has been quite some time since you celebrated the festival.

You sat down the counter "Alright, I can agree with chocolate. What do you have for me?" you asked, resting your hands in your palms. "I'll make it special for you. How do you like it? Dark? White? Nutty? Exotic?" he said, looking at your eyes. You laughed "I usually like them bitter, not too sweet." you said, answering his question "I'm not really a fan of chocolate. Nor things that are too sweet, I feel like they're not for me." you said.

"WHAT? You don't like chocolate??"

"..."

"Ahem, my apologies Ms. Rosewell."

Willy adjusted his scarf "Don't you worry, I'll make something perfect for you. Mind if I place my suitcase on your counter?"

He opened his luggage, which resembled a little factory filled with remedies and miniature machinery. He began to prepare the chocolate; you didn't expect him to produce sweets on the spot. Looking at his expression, you could see he was proud of his craft. When you were selling flowers, he seemed to embody everything you want.

But, you weren't that proud of your work. You thought that it could be better, but you can never make anything that is up to your expectations.

"Alright, there we go, apologies, they take a long time to make." Willy rubbed his head. "That's fine, I don't mind at all," you answered, soothing him. You suddenly decided to make some small talk: "Have you always wanted to be a chocolate maker?"" you inquired. "Not at all, I wanted to be a magician." He said.

"My mother was my inspiration, when she made me chocolate I knew I wanted to do the same." he said, his eyes were twinkling. "Wheres your mother now?" you asked, "Shes gone."

He was just like you.

"I understand," you said. "We have a similar story; back then, I aspired to be an actress... or a painter." He looked at you. "I used to audition for plays all the time. And I used to create portraits of my foster family," you said. Willy looked at you, he rested his chin on his palm "How did you become a botanist then?" he asked.

"I gave up. I stopped being a dreamer," you explained, your eyes softening slightly. The both of you went silent, then Willy spoke up "Well it wont hurt to still try and chase them right?" Before you could say anything, a little ding was heard. "Oh, it's ready. Come! Take a piece of my chocolate." You rose up from your seat and approached him.

He reached out the chocolate to you, it had a dark color and held a star shape. You took the piece and ate, it tasted amazing. "This is wonderful.." you said, reminiscing. "Isn't it? Im glad." Willy grinned "What about this, I'll give you a jar every month in exchange for a Burberry smite." Willy offered, you looked at him "How many do you want exactly Mr. Wonka?"

"Oh a single flower is already a lot for me, so do we have a deal?" Willy said, reaching out his hand. "We have a deal." you said,  shaking his hand. "Do you have a name for this yet?" you asked, Willy shrugged "Not yet." he said "What if I named it after you? Its your request after all." he said "Mn, Rosewell chocolates? Interesting haha." you laughed.

"I'll get the Burberry smites. Do you prefer the big ones or the small ones?" Willy thought for a bit "I want it just right, you think you have that?" he answered your question "Of course, I have a few." you answered back.

You held the Burberry smite. Its soil was sand, it had a ceramic vase, and it required water to survive. Thus, it contains ocean water.

"Mn, smells quite lovely." you murmured, sniffing the flowers. Willy closed his eyes and took a smell, "They certainly do." you smiled at his comment "Glad you think so as well."

"Splendid, thank you, Ms. Rosewell." Willy replied. "Your welcome—oh, just a moment, I forgot something." you said, pausing him.

You took the vase from him, placed it on the counter, and wrapped a shiny brown ribbon around it. "There we go, please come again." Willy smiled broadly, "I will very surely do Ms. Rosewell." He lifted his hat, "Why don't you come and see me at my store? Or my factory?" He offered, "I will think about it! It's getting late; please be safe."

You could not help but smile as you saw him leave your business. He appeared to be a pleasant person, you imagined in your head that he was a greedy and aggressive businessman. But you were quite wrong, in fact he was quite kind, and you want to meet him soon and perhaps become friends. But there was a comfortable sensation in your chest; perhaps you yearned for more.

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hi everyone! my name is blythe, this is my first ever fic!

i fell in love with timothee's wonka so i just had to write something haha. but here are the first parts of the story, a lot of these things are made up of course like the flowers burberry smites etc..

i haven't beta read/proof read any of this, so there is a chance i will revamp some of these if i do change them, they will be changed in wattpad. i hope thats fine!

once i get enough readers in wattpad, i will make the next parts! i plan to update more there.

thank you for reading c:

[midnightscramble]

Oh dios mio. I've re-read your Portia x reader and I've got to say that it's absolutely amazing and I can just imagine Portia thinking 'How would her hands feel on her' the sensational touches she would receive. I really hope you have a great day, love. ☺️

Sugar, Sugar Part 3 (Portia Featherington x fem!Reader)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

The Masterlist

Author’s Note: Thanks for your continued support! If this is not what was envisioned feel free to request again (don’t be shy!). Happy readings to you.

Summary: The women start to feel more and more attached to each other. Penelope confronts her mother. In a moment of weakness, Portia breaks their agreement, consequences follow...

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, fingering (Portia receiving), oral (Portia receiving), bottom Portia, internalized homophobia, angry-ish sex, no Beta read

The next night, Portia arrived to the bakery earlier than the agreed upon time. She walked down the aisles, vaguely looking through the shelves as she focused on listening to her baker bustle around the kitchen, obviously preparing for their meeting. She heard a deep sigh of satisfaction emit from the kitchen. As if on its own accord, Portia's mind produced images of Y/n, cheeks flushed and head thrown back as sweat slid down the column of her throat. Blinking back to reality, Portia felt desire settle in her abdomen, sinking as gracefully as a stone falling through still water. She pinched herself, such thoughts were improper, especially since she knew that Y/n's sigh was most definitely attributed to a baking related achievement.

She could not shake the warmth that tinged her cheeks pink, nor how Y/n's soft sigh seemed to echo in her ears. For the rest of the evening she sat with hands beneath her thighs, worried she would be overcome with the want to touch her sweet baker. If Y/n noticed her sudden hesitancy, for once she was polite enough not to mention it.

For the next week, Portia dreamt only of the young baker. While not particularly proud of the development, the Lady selfishly felt eager to sleep after their evening meetings. She could no longer deny her feelings for the other woman. In fact, the harder she consciously fought against it, the more radical her subconscious became in reminding Portia of her sinful desires.

Having experienced so little romantic pleasure in her life, Portia was content to keep this secret to herself, reap the blessings her dreams bestowed upon her. As long as she did not act upon it, it would be a non issue, she simply had to control herself.

...

Well practiced in self control, she continued to see Y/n every evening. However, on the thirteenth night of their agreement, Portia felt her resolve begin to crumble.

Sitting across from each other, Y/n unveiled her latest temptation, a pastry shaped like a heart. They sat in silence, the air around them was alight with electricity, leaving Portia feeling frozen yet energetic. The baker's eyes were soft, and something in her posture was different than other nights. She seemed to have forgone her usual bravado and crassness, that manifested in slouched shoulders and easy movements. Now, Y/n was still in her own unease, face dashed with hopefulness and vulnerability.

Portia swallowed, if she accepted the treat, then these meetings would come to an end. However, the alternative of rejecting the treat made her mouth taste bitter. Her knee bounced under her thick skirt as she considered. The dessert was precious, she wanted to pick it up with her hands and run her fingers along the flaky edges to appreciate its perfection.

Her voice grew quite as she spoke, falling off into a whisper, "Although it is delicate, and undoubtably exquisite, it does not tempt me..." Per usual, the baker gave her a kind smile, yet, tonight's held an element of disappoint. Portia wanted to rectify that, so she reached out and took the baker's hand, "You are so skilled, I'm sure tomorrow you will catch me."

Y/n intertwined their fingers and smiled subtly, "I suppose I must be satisfied with the thoughts of tomorrow," neither moved to extract their hand.

...

Portia returned home, feeling an unfamiliar ache in her chest which urged her to go back to the bakery and beg for a taste of the baker's heart. While it soothed her to be able to touch Y/n, she felt a pang of guilt from causing the subtle distress the baker experienced over tonight's rejection. It had all felt so different, as though they were speaking another language, one which Portia seemed to mispronounce every time she attempted to speak.

Sitting at her vanity, she brushed through her hair, trying to find a calming rhythm. A knock sounded at her door and having been so deep in thought, she jumped at the intrusion. Penelope entered slowly, looking rather sheepish.

"Mother, I must ask you an uncomfortable question..."

Portia sighed, "On with it," she prompted.

"I heard a rumor," Penelope could not out right say she had been following her mother, "that you have been having midnight rendezvous with a baker in town." Portia felt her throat constrict and if she hadn't already been sitting she surely would have lost balance. Goosebumps raised on her arms and a shiver climbed up her spine.

"She's my friend, who happens to have a very busy day and is only available at night." The excuse was rushed and Portia's eyes shifted away in an effort to hide.

"So you do not deny it?"

Portia mentally cursed herself, denying it altogether would have been much easier but now it was too late, "No, I do not."

Penelope continued, seemingly talking aloud rather than asking an actual question, "Then why lie to us and say you are off to bed, when you are really leaving to see a friend..."

The Lady's blood ran cold, she looked at her daughter and watched in abject horror as Penelope pieced it together. "You fancy the baker," It was stated as fact, almost light heartedly as her daughter was all too pleased with her own deduction.

"Penelople-"

"There is no use in lying, Mother. Although, shocked as I am, I must remind you of something," Penelope raised an eyebrow before quoting the woman, "It is foolish to be unreasonable about what you can achieve."

Portia's eyes watered as Penelope threw her cruel words back at her, before she could come up with a retort, her daughter had fled. She was left to reflect upon the brutal advice. She knew in her heart that she wanted the baker, but it would be unreasonable to believe in the possibility of having her. When she retired for the night, she committed herself to enjoying tonight's dream, as it was the last one she would allow herself to have. She wasn't sure how she had so stupidly let herself become hopeful, after all, Lady's don't have dreams.

...

The next morning Portia accompanied her daughters and their husbands to the Hawkins Hot Air Ballon Event. Although in a depressed state, she choked through an apology to Penelope on the carriage ride over.

"I am sorry. I-" Portia scrunched her nose and sniffed in discomfort, "You are right to have been so angry with me..."

Penelope pressed her lips together in sympathy, "I do not want to fight with you, Mother."

"Nor, I with you. If it is Mister Bridgerton you truly want, then you mustn't waste your time with any other." With a closed lip smile, Penelope nodded and gazed out the window. While their relationship was far from healed, this was certainly an improvement.

Penelope bit her lip, "Do be careful, with your baker. I do not want to see you hurt."

Portia chuckled, "You need not worry, it will be over by tonight." Her daughter eyed her with concern but dropped the subject.

Once the carriage came to a halt, Portia plastered on a smile, ready to make the most of the day instead of dreading the evening to come. She watched as Penelope left and realized that Mister Bridgerton was already watching her daughter with an eagle's eye. She smiled, knowing Penelope would be successful.

She herself filtered in and out of stands, pausing at a stall with various jams and pastries.

"Would you care for a sample, my Lady?" She nodded and was handed a lithe, croissant with sweet apricot jam in the center. Without thinking, she took a bite. As her tongue hit the jam she felt bile rise in her throat. Pulling back she realized she had officially broken her deal with the baker. Her mouth went bitter and all hunger was lost. Out of politeness, she finished the pastry and inquired about where the stand's main store was located in the Ton. She darkly thought about how she would need a new baker eventually.

...

Evening fell, and Portia made her way from the Event directly to the bakery, with the full intention of ending her late night escapades with Y/n. When she arrived, the usual table was not set, in fact all the chairs had been put up for closing. She heard grunting coming from the kitchen and the sound of metal being tossed into a sink, loudly echoing into the store front. Portia flinched slightly.

She called out for the baker, "Y/n?" Silence stung through the air and Portia approached the kitchen warily.

With a red nose and watery eyes, Y/n glared at her, "What do you want?" She wiped at her cheeks, trying to make the evidence of her hurt disappear.

Tentatively, she took a step forward, "I came for our usual meeting-"

Y/n flexed her jaw before seething, "I know that you made an inquiry into hiring Mr. Thompson for your baked goods."

Portia went to deny it but was cut off, "Do not lie to me..." Y/n stalked forward, and by reflex Portia stepped back.

She connected with the wooden prep table and her heart beat loudly in her ears. The baker's hands rested on each side of her, gripping the edge of the table fiercely. With their faces near inches apart, Y/n accused, "Did you like what he had to offer..."

"No," Portia choked out, lip quivering with emotion.

"Do you think he could satisfy your hunger like I could?" Portia shook her head and flushed, unable to speak. She watched as the baker's eyes darkened and the pinch in her eyebrows relaxed.

"Allow me to tempt you tonight?" Y/n's eyes trailed from her eyes to her lips, coyly asking permission.

As if she were emerging from water and gasping for breath, Portia responded, "Yes-" The baker cut her off and surged forward to connect their lips. Y/n's tongue slid across her bottom lip and Portia instinctively opened her mouth, encouraging the woman to deepen the kiss.

Inhaling through her nose, she felt faint as her mouth was thoroughly devoured. Y/n's deft tongue caressed her own and Portia sighed into to kiss. Strong hands came to rest on her waist, slowly grabbing the fabric and scrunching it up. The Lady mewled at the possibility of the touch which she had only ever dreamed of. She slid her fingers into the baker's hair, reveling in the softness of the locks, and how right it felt to cradle her head. For the first time in her life, Portia experienced an unbridled pleasure from sharing a kiss.

She shivered in anticipation as Y/n parted her legs. The baker disconnected their mouths and moved her kisses dow Portia's neck. Her hand stopped as she palmed the Lady's inner thigh, and she nipped at Portia's ear, waiting for permission.

"Please," Portia whined needly, moving her face to try and chase the baker's lips. Y/n gave her a sweet peck, and rubbed their noses against each other. Not wanting to deny the woman further, she moved her hand to cup the woman's sex. Their foreheads connected and Portia let out a contented sigh as Y/n ground the palm of her hand against her. The baker watched as her eye's fluttered shut and her breathes became shorter. Moving her thumb to rub the Lady's clit, she traced along her lips tantalizingly slow, watching how her hips twitched forward. Having gathered enough wetness, she slowly sunk her fingers into Portia's opening. Her neck flexed as she let out a silent moan, and her knees became weak at the sensation.

Pinning her further onto the table for support, Y/n moved a hand to her lower back, encouraging Portia to thrust her hips to meet her fingers. With cheeks as red as her hair, Portia delighted in the guidance, and surrendered all control to the baker. Rhythmically, Portia began to meet her every thrust. However, once she had gotten comfortable in the pattern, it changed. Y/n curled her fingers, dragging them along Portia's walls in a come hither motion. Portia's hips stuttered and a cry left her mouth out of ecstasy. Y/n felt Portia start to tighten around her fingers, and she knew the woman was close.

Portia's abdomen tightened, and she was surprised with herself, not entirely familiar with the sensation. The baker gave her little time to think about it as she dropped to her knees. Portia was confused by the action until she felt a hard lick journey up her inner thigh. Although slightly miffed, she would not deny the woman any part of her. Portia's hands clutched at the edge of the table, knuckles turning white as Y/n sucked her clit between her lips. She gasped sharply and barred down on Y/n's fingers, falling over the edge. Administering kitten licks and slow pumps, Y/n helped Portia through her orgasm until she felt her walls stop spasming.

Y/n removed her hand slowly and rose to her feet, giving Portia a tender kiss which the woman met in earnest. Her hands rested on the baker's shoulders as she rested her head in the crook of Y/n's neck, wanting reprieve after such thrilling intimacy. Y/n chuckled and held the Lady, "Now, can I tempt you with an actual dessert?"

Portia laughed but didn't move from her position, "it would only be appropriate."

[anundyingfidelity]

CATCH FEELS — Adam Warlock x goddess!reader

Summary: You're very happy seeing Thor again after your ways parted. Adam is not sure he's liking the god of thunder's visit.

Pairing: Adam x asgardian goddess!reader.

Word count: 1.5k.

Notes: reader is the goddess of joy and peace, some descriptions of reader wearing dresses, reader is as around the same age as Thor, female pronouns use.

☕ if you like my writing, support me with a ko-fi !

GEN MASTERLIST!

A sigh escaped from Adam's lips... by the tenth time in the day.

He watched you in silence from afar. How happy you looked, how your laughter got louder and your smile grew wide, all meanwhile you spent some time with Thor, the god of thunder himself.

Less than a couple of hours before, Adam came back from a lonely mission and he was atonished to find out you were not alone. In fact, you had a visit. He certainly did not like your visit immediately. Something inside him grew up, like a rejection toward the asgardian god.

When you met a few months ago, Adam remembered you telling him the story of Asgard and its people, and how you ended up with the guardians after Thor left the team to look for Sif. Suddenly, as time passed and you became very close friends, a weird feeling flourished inside of him. Adam then realized he loved you, but he was too scared to confess.

Tired of just being a viewer on your little chat with Thor, he started to walk to meet you and the god, who was now occupied having a small talk with a kid.

"Adam!" you beamed once he was near, you ran to him and hugged him tightly. "You're back! I'm so glad you're here, I missed you."

The golden boy embraced you with a smile on his lips. "I've missed you too."

"Hey, I want you to meet someone. He's very important to me, I know you're gonna have a great time with us-" taking his hand and not stopping your talk, you brought Adam closer to Thor, who just finished his chat with the kid. Unaware of what you did with your small action, Adam felt his heartbeat increased, and his face started to burn at your touch.

"So this is the new addition? The golden man?" Thor beamed once Adam was literally in front of him, with you presenting him like a proud mother.

Thor patted him playfuly in the shoulder with such joy and embraced the golden man with his strong arms. Adam realized asgardians did give good, big hugs, but Thor's hug was nothing like yours.

"Let's have a special dinner today!" you stepped in, happy that your best friend finally met Adam. "People around here have been missing you, Adam, and you'll like Thor, I'm sure."

You took his hand again, a beautiful smile that crinkled your eyes on your face. How could he say no to you? Of course, you were the goddess of joy and peace, and there was always something bright you saw and this was the perfect opportunity to introduce Adam to Asgard and your culture.

Adam nodded with a grin. "I'd love that."

A long week was waiting for him.

Adam got lost in the story that Thor was telling. One of Thor's hundreds of times he saved the universe or a planet that he really didn't pay too much attention to. He was focused in one thing: you, sitting in the middle of both, the asgardian god and him.

You smiled and chuckled through the epic story telling Thor was giving to the guardians during the dinner, he was certainly getting all the attention that night. You were enjoying yourself, unlike Adam, who was just pretending to listen to the asgardian god, instead he was focusing on your reactions and how beautiful you looked with that shiny, golden dress on you.

Adam was totally hypnotized on your figure that he didn't expect Thor to smash his empty cup to the ground.

"Another!" The god yelled, making you laugh and the Guardians celebrating him around the table. Even Nebula curved her lips a little, and that was a lot to say.

"Mead?" you asked Adam, offering him a little of the asgardian liqueur you prepared. The guardians giving all the attention back to Thor, as Drax loud voice boomed the dining room while they chatted.

"That would be great," the golden man nodded. "And the food is delicious, thank you."

You filled his cup one more time for the night and smiled wide. "You're welcome, I'm truly happy to have you here."

"Y/N!" Thor loud voice called you, immediately you were forgetting about Adam and totally inmersed in Thor's conversation about an old battle that Drax was requesting to hear.

So he was long ignored, prepared for the rest of the night to be the same, but he couldn't leave the dinner because you prepared it for him and the guardians to have a good time, however, he wasn't having it.

Running was a hard decision right now.

Knowhere looked better and the people were happier, you were a lot of help for that. The citizens loved you and Adam couldn't blame them. Each day that passed by, his love for you grew up inside of him, but also the strange sensation of having Thor around was getting stronger.

Two days have passed since Thor arrived, and he was supposed to leave soon, however, his visit felt eternal for the Sovereign. He couldn't help but feel bitterness each time you left to follow the blonde, tall muscular god and do the tasks you'd normally do with Adam instead, such as fixing things around for the citizens or teaching the new kids and their families about Knowhere, its culture, and the different planets and galaxies around.

Standing and helping Drax while fixing a metalic huge door, Adam didn't measure his strenght over the pipe of the balcony in his hand as it folded like it was a simple piece of clay in a matter of seconds. The cause? Thor hugging you tightly in front of his eyes.

"Hey, golden man! Be careful!" Drax warned, but he noticed what was Adam looking at.

You and Thor. Of course it had to be.

The muscle man began to stand up and came closer to Adam, who was ashamed of what just happened.

"Just tell her."

"Pardon?"

Drax rolled his eyes and sighed exaggeratedly. "You liek Y/n, she doesn't know and that's certain, so tell her."

But Adam wasn't certain that you liked him back, so he just nodded, dismissing his words. "Let's keep working on this."

Adam didn't even notice he did what he did because of you. And it wasn't fair for him. As the week went by, he started to break things accidentally every time you were seen with the god of thunder. Adam got called out often, but he couldn't stop himself. It was this weird feeling someone taught him so long ago taking over him as time passed by, but Adam did not remember its name.

Soon your mood changed once you knew Thor was leaving the next day, and it looked like the gods or the universe were again with Adam, as you were the only ones left in the dinning room that night.

"Adam," softly you called his name. "I'm sorry..."

The golden man was confused. "What for?"

"I just feel like I've been away from you these past few days, so I want to apologize for that," you were not as cheerful as normally and it hurted him.

"It's okay," it wasn't. "I know Thor is important to you... but I would prefer to be with you instead."

He did not mean to voice the last sentence.

"Well, you are with me now," you stepped closer to take his hand, a smile curved on your lips. "And I won't be leaving, Thor will. So you will have me here for a long time."

Adam nodded in silence, squeezing your warm hand. He tried to speak, but nothing came. He wanted to let you know how much he loved you, but he thought it wasn't the time.

"Is there anything you would like to say?" you asked, as if you were reading his mind.

"No, not at all. Everything's fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah-"

"I love you."

"W-what?"

"Adam, I love you," you repeated. "I'm sorry if it's not prompt, I promised Thor I would say it to you once you were back."

His heart fluttered at your words and his cheeks burned, your hands never stopped touching the whole time. You felt the same too. And that was also why you were spending so much time with Thor.

"I- I love you too," he stuttered. "And I never found the time to tell you, so now I'm sorry for being shy about it."

After that, you stealed a kiss from him. A quick, innocent, short kiss tasting his soft lips.

"I hope you were not mad or jealous of Thor," you joked.

Jelousy. That was the word he was looking. That's what he felt. But he would never admit.

"I wasn't jealous, I was being absolutely reasonable... in my head."

You chuckled and kissed his lips one more time.

"Sure, golden man. We will have our own time together from now on."

There was no reason to be jealous anymore.

[666writingcafe]

An Interview With Levi

Part Two of a New Series

Question One: What turns you on?

Oh, we're starting here. Okay...um...info dumping? Like, I enjoy listening to someone talk about something they're passionate about, especially if it's something that requires a lot of skill and/or knowledge.

Question Two: What kind of kiss appeals to you?

I'm a sucker for a kiss on the cheek. There's something so sweet about it that makes my heart race.

Question Three: What is the greatest accomplishment of your life?

Even though this is ongoing, I'm proud of the fact that I've been able to overcome some of my social anxiety.

Question Four: What is a positive childhood lesson that helps you even today?

This is gonna sound stupid, but "sharing is caring". I've found that the more I trust someone, the easier it is for me to share. It's a sort of litmus test that I use to determine someone's character.

Question Five: What advice would you give your younger self if you ever met?

People care about you more than you think. Don't allow your insecurities to push them away.

Question Six: What is your greatest fear?

It used to be rejection, but now it's waking up one day and finding out that Mammon sold all my stuff.

Question Seven: If you could fix one of the biggest problems in the world, what would that problem be?

Racism. It seems to be a huge problem across the three realms, and I don't think that's right. You can't judge someone solely based on the color of their skin or the type of being they are.

Question Eight: What’s the best surprise you’ve ever received?

Okay, so there was this limited edition Ruri-chan figurine that I really wanted, and the website said there was one left, but when I went to buy it, it had been sold. I was really bummed about it for a while, but then one day MC comes in my room and gives me a wrapped box with a bow on top. Turns out, they bought the last figurine specifically so that they could give it to me as a gift. I nearly dropped the box the figurine was in out of shock.

Question Nine: If you could be invisible for a day, what would you do?

Scare Mammon. He has a fear of ghosts.

Question Ten: If you were stranded on an island, which three items would you be unable to live without?

Other than food and water? (Yes.) Okay, um...my phone, its charger, and my goldfish.

Question Eleven: If you had the chance to ask your future self one question, what would it be?

There are so many questions that I'd want to ask that I'd probably end up overwhelmed by having to choose just one.

Question Twelve: What is the weirdest food you love to eat for breakfast?

Waffles drizzled with ketchup.

Question Thirteen: What is the most embarrassing autocorrect fail you have ever had?

One time, when I was texting Mammon to pay back the money he owed me, the word "money" autocorrected to "mommy". He teased me about it for days. It was awful.

Question Fourteen: What is the most bizarre thing you have seen someone do in public?

Solomon. Just...he's a really strange guy, and anything he does in public is bizarre to me.

Question Fifteen: What is the craziest dream you have ever had?

Intentional or unintentional? (What do you mean?) There are times where I ask Belphie to create a specific dream for me, mainly whenever I've been up for days and need to go asleep and stay that way for a while. (Would you mind sharing one?) The one that comes to mind and that fits the question is one that required coordination on everyone's part to make possible. To disclose more than that would be breaching their privacy, and I don't feel comfortable doing that. (I see. Well, how about an unintentional dream?) I once fought dinosaurs with Ruri-chan, but the dinosaurs were my brothers, and I didn't want to hurt them, but they were attacking Ruri-chan's village. It was a really strange dream.

Question Sixteen: Who do you think is more romantic, men or women?

I think they're equally romantic. I feel like women tend to go for the grand gestures, while men focus more on the small things, but that's hardly universal.

Question Seventeen: What do you think makes a person attractive?

Confidence.

Question Eighteen: What do you think is the difference between romance and love?

One's a blazing inferno of emotions, and the other is a single candle lighting up a room.

Question Nineteen: What would be the name of the book written on your life?

Probably "The Insecure Otaku", although I'm sure that answer will change as I get older.

Question Twenty: What is a quirk of yours you feel comfortable sharing?

I can sing a bunch of anime theme songs backwards.

Question Twenty-One: What is the dumbest question you were asked?

Every other question asked by Mammon. It's not that he's stupid; he just doesn't think things all the way through before he opens his mouth.

Question Twenty-Two: Have you ever been kicked out of any place?

A human world aquarium.

Question Twenty-Three: Would you rather fight a hundred ant-sized horses or a single horse-sized ant?

What kind of horses are they? (Wild stallions.) And the ant? (A fire ant.) Fuck that; I'll take the horses any day. I'm not messing with a fire ant.

Question Twenty-Four: Where would you take aliens first if they ever approached you?

It honestly depends. If they asked me to take them to a specific place, then I'd probably oblige, but if they pull the whole "take me to your leader", then I'm taking them to Lord Diavolo and making him deal with it. He'd probably get a kick out of it, if I'm totally honest.

Question Twenty-Five: What song would be the theme of your life?

You know those songs that are insanely loud and the singer is screaming and you can't understand a word they're saying and you're overwhelmed by the sheer amount of noise? That's basically the story of my life.

Question Twenty-Six: Would you prefer a pause button for the globe or a rewind button for your life?

Honestly, I don't know. There are too many variables. Is there a force field that's created by the pause button that makes it possible for you to still move? If there is, can you put anyone else in that force field? And then there's the rewind button. How far back can you go? How do you return to the present? Are you even able to, or are you forced to relive that portion of your life all over again? Do you retain the knowledge of your present self, or do you revert back to the person you were at that point in your life?

Question Twenty-Seven: Which dad joke is your favorite?

I like the punny ones. They make me snort in amusement.

Question Twenty-Eight: What is the most inventive way you can think of to use duct tape?

Ask Lucifer. He can turn the most ordinary objects into torture devices. He's like a spy in that regard. Or maybe a ninja.

Question Twenty-Nine: What rule, if any, would you add to the game of hide and seek?

Being able to come up with punishments for the people that you find.

Taglist: @lost-in-time-wanderer, @fuzztacular, @dianedancer18, @sweetbrier2908, @flare-love, @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf, @thunderlightning351, @l3v1chan

[bettsfic]

Hi Betts,

I recently listened to an interview with an author that said “when they decided to get really serious about writing and their dreams they made a ten year plan.” So me being the planner that I am, said maybe I should do it too, especially since this writer is pretty successful. Have I made a decent enough plan? No, because being real about your dreams and committing is scary af.

But I have developed this thinking that each story I have to work on has to be “publishable” and if I can’t immediately envision its success I need to push it away. For some people this is fine. For me, I’m pushing aside every idea and am constantly writing for an invisible audience. Which has its pros and cons.

I want to become efficient so that I can be a good author. One who meets deadlines and puts out work they are proud of. But I’m wondering if it’s even possible to try to work to be an author and still create work that is fun and true to you? If a decision isn’t meaningful I won’t include it in my outline. It feels like the only time writing can be fun is when I was young and had no clue about market and rules and just assumed my dreams would come true.

you know, what i keep finding over and over again is that i was right about a great many things before i had any idea what i was doing. i just didn't know why i was right, i had no context or evidence for my rightness. granted, i was arrogant, but arrogance isn't wrong; it's just uninformed. when you inform arrogance, it becomes confidence. you become informed by getting a lot of feedback on your work and giving feedback on work; having your work accepted once or twice and accepting someone else's work; having your work rejected hundreds of times and being the one to reject. maybe you've done all those things already, in which case you're firmly on your path and there's not much you have to do besides keep going.

i definitely relate to what you're saying, though. i would be lying if i said i wasn't just days ago in a phase of berating myself for my failures and wishing i could work harder and more efficiently. i've cultivated some confidence about my work, but there are some ways in which i'm too arrogant and others in which i'm too humble. i have a long way to go still in informing myself about my work and the process of making it.

you'll be in positions where you have to make creative concessions for the sake of publishing, but don't make them before you get anything on the page. listen to your own ideals and make those ideals happen in your work. a year ago, i finished a novel that was my favorite thing i'd ever made, and i was so proud of it, but i knew it wasn't publishable in the state it was in. even though i'd worked a year on it, it was still an early draft and bore the marks of an early draft, but i couldn't see that because i'd never taken any project further than that one. i'd never felt closer to a project or more intensely toward it. and when i was done, i went through six months grieving it, in a sense, because i knew i'd have to rewrite it. i had to kill the thing that it was in order for it to become what it needed to be. i came to accept that, and the next six months sat on the frustration of not knowing what direction to take it, but having the wisdom to know i couldn't rush it or force it.

and then the fix came to me all at once. the fix involves getting rid of many things that were once dear to me. not even darlings, but entire themes i felt were meaningful, that were the very things i want to share and explore in my work. i don't feel so bad about giving those things up now. what i take out will be put into something else eventually, and what i keep will stand out more starkly. the new parts i write will fit better and serve the story itself, even if it's no longer the story i originally intended to tell.

when you're drafting, your work is in a private conversation with yourself; it's about you even if it isn't. but it can't stay about you. eventually it has to stand on its own. and you might think, well why can't i just write something that stands on its own to begin with? but if you do that, writing is just work, it's business, and it may be more efficient but it's also less meaningful. there's no such thing as efficient creativity. it takes as long as it takes, and if you force yourself on a ten year timeline you might as well focus that energy on something more lucrative and within your control. there's so much about writing that's just chance and discovery and failure and faith.

so i think you should go back to assuming your dreams will come true and not thinking too much about anything except the work itself until you get to the point where you have to. and it will hurt. it may hurt more than anything hurt you've ever put yourself through. but trust you'll get to where you're going, even if it takes longer than you intended.

[2n2n]

ch. 111

the plot thickens and I am thrown all around the room as if in a hurricane... I really cannot predict Iro-sensei's plots!!!!!!

oh Amane, all of your efforts, your gestures.... what a desperate, helpless feeling

its the most predictable response Tsukasa would have, but it still hurts very very much.

he's reaaaally strange isn't he... he's like that....

oh Amane.... you're so reactive to perceived rejection and failure. You'll say the worst things, you'll think the worst things... you're sooo unstable, Amane!

What, you simply don't accept that your otouto would 'try to leave you'? I bet it's something like that. You "know he's fake" now because he "wouldn't do something like this to you"... that's my guess at your dumb little brain. Don't take him too seriously, okay, Tsutsu? Your brother just can't handle the sense of rejection of you choosing to die & leave him behind, or he can't handle that all his gestures and attempts to show his love fell so flat that you have no idea at all of his desperate love of you. Nooooo you have to be fake~~~ my real otouto would understand and he'd never leave me~~!!! I don't think you, Amane, understand how suicidal your real otouto was, and is, to this day! Would you believe it has less to do with disregarding you, and more to do with not believing in his own life's worth? No, you won't believe that, right... it's about you, instead! hahaha....

I'm glad I played AidaIro's Snow White game because... Estelio is THIS HURTFUL to Rasphard, and it's just out of a sense of being rejected!!! Estelio would kick his twin's goddamn corpse on the ground, let him wriggle and DIE in pain and AGONY if Estelio has the impression Rasphard wants nothing to do with him or isn't considering him ... LOL. Iro likes this kind of ... troubled, insecure, desperate, spiteful, needy person... you want the perfect brother, who loves you. You have that, but you can't understand the idea of someone choosing to leave you through death....

I wonder if Tsukasa started grabbing your jacket to move you to protect you.... meanwhile, Amane impulsively moved to protect his ~~~fake otouto, haha!

I wonder ... if Nene-chan has her memories because, she is magical etc, or if Akane actively made Teru do something to her to enable her to... stay as an aware asset, since he isn't completely sided with the Clockkeepers... maybe Akane is waiting to see what 'new future' comes to be, and seeding a few tricks to utilize if he doesn't agree or wishes to pull out? (I mean, if the Severance never happened, Aoi definitely would not be his girlfriend haha)...

The clockeeper's circumstance is interesting enough. Its very Aidairo-core. But not enough for me to talk about haha.

swag, I have been right the whole time! cool. yep!! of course. logical haha!! I can't be too proud of myself, it's been spelled out ...

that same old God~~ our Tsutsu!

the year before the murder, when the boys were 12... fuckin scary place to go to. What on Earth are you changing... the circumstances of the shinjuu?

if we're 'fixing' the 'problem', I wonder if that means we'll be going into the original timeline, where Amane would likely still be alive-- he'd just be an old man, and Nene-chan's teacher at Kamome. Wouldn't that be so funny and interesting? Lol. What would we all do if Amane was "Yugi-sensei" and like, old! It would be very AidaIro core AHAHAH ahhh the agegap fetish--! It's not enough to have Sumire x Hakubo and Yako x Misaki and Kako x Mirai and the entire Monstery Nursery AUs LOL you know, we need more ahahahaah (HanaNene is already technically biiig agegap! I would laugh if actually making Amane like 60 woke some people up flfjdklfdjk)

I'm just not sure... Amane could just be dead, I guess, and Tsukasa. Or he could be alive, and old. I have a vague theory that he must be a kaii because of, whatever he or Tsukasa had done together during the shinjuu... (maybe Amane was impulsed to eat some part of Tsukasa, maybe the God blessed Amane at the last second, etc etc)... it's hard to imagine Amane would be a school mystery-- Tsukasa is his yorishiro after all... and we don't quite know what circumstances make Sumire and Tsukasa into objects, if being sacrificed to the God had something essential to do with that...

Well, so interesting, I wonder if Nene-chan will have to go even further than she did in Picture Perfect-- in that arc, she had to choose to reject a seemingly perfect, but ultimately fabricated, world; even if it was 'nicer' than the 'real world'. Now, she might be shown a world fixed of its cracks-- it could even possibly be a world Amane never had to murder his brother, like she wanted before. Nene-chan is so often getting "what she asked for" in the wrong way, at the wrong time. She fell in love with "Hanako". Is the boy she fell in love with "here"? Is he in a form she can confess to?

Furthermore, she just bonded with Tsukasa, and has knowledge of the Red House... must be essential, to write that happening before this-- just before, even. Tsukasa even inspired her to need to free herself, even if Amane isn't there to save her.

Poor Nene-chan though-- so scary!!! What an awful situation to be in HAHAHA, flung around...

I have no idea what Mitsuba's situation will be, but Tsukasa is responsible for our "Mitsuba" to even be around. He wouldn't have even managed to become the ghost about the entryway without Tsukasa kaii-ifying him through his first, vague wish.

Well, it would be funny if these things were all true now:

-Amane is alive, but he's old lol -Aoi is not Akane's gf, and maybe that other timeline was the only goddamn way you could ever get her within reach lol -No Mitsuba To Speak Of lol

MUCH POSSIBLE, MUCH TO THINK ABOUT-- MAYBE I'M WRONG ABOUT IT ALL!!! Iro-sensei writes such interesting plot twists WOO ahahaha! I WONDER IF WE WILL INTERACT WITH 12 YEAR OLD TSUKASA AGAAAIN~~ pleaaase ~~

feeling more certain than ever that Tsukasa is The single most tragic member of this cast hahaha

[irrealisms]

tidal forces liner notes

fic here if you haven't read it!

i mention this in the end notes and it's included in the web weave but a lot of this au is drawing off thoughts crystallized by part 2 of Barrier Blocks; a theme of heaven will be mine is that mecha fights aren't real war, they're play. they're communication! they can be an argument or they can be full of intimacy and joy! the point is sometimes winning but often--when it's at its best--it's about having fun. it can hurt people for real, but that's not what it's for. and this puts it in an interestingly similar place to pvp on lifesteal, to me! (this is why zam is cradle's graces--canon zam is the most attached to pvp and lifesteal as a place to fight-for-fun, and so hwbm zam is the most attached to the ship-selves and space as a place to fight-for-fun. contrast to subz's pacifism and general disinterest in the server, and to vitalasy's exploits that render pvp pointless.)

another thing i'm doing with this au: i really like putting eclipse fed in a setting where they are...genuinely at odds, they've got different worldviews, it's not like we know the devil where there's a true ending where they can all reject society and have an ending that's perfect for all of them, they're on different sides. but hwbm envisions a world where they can fight about it and then come out the other side with an ending where--it's not what 2 of them wanted. but they can still all be happy together, there. hwbm makes me believe in eclipse fed happy ending and this is rare for me & also makes me unbelievably soft

also the thing of. gravity. control over the narrative (as opposed to fighting in physical space as opposed to cheating, as three distinct things that characters do) as physical force. eclipse federation to me

speaking of narrative control. the faction that "wins" a scene is, consistently, the one who loses the physical fight. the first scene is sort of arguable since vitalasy runs away ig but-- the outcome of the fight is what vitalasy wanted, but zam is the one who wins the scene! and then in the second two chapters there are physical fights with clear winners, and whoever won the physical fight loses the narrative one. this too is eclipse federation

all of them are trans women bc the original game is very much about transness & transfeminity but it's also doing thematic stuff for all three of them. chapter 2 in particular is inspired heavily by (a) their conversation in this vod about zam leaving eclipse (b) the conversation quoted in the chapter summary between pluto and luna-terra in heaven will be mine, about how pluto identifying as a trans woman is bc she saw luna-terra and was inspired by her

i didn't explicitly get into vitalasy's gender as much but ... her issues around being seen as both [dangerous monster] and [scapegoat], and ending up sort of embracing alien-ness but in a way where she also kind of hates it, are very much tied into her transfemininity, here, as are her issues around earth and going back to earth

this is a small note but i'm really proud of the line in chapter 1, "All the implants they fit inside her couldn't make her matter more." because of the double meaning of the word "matter". matter as in physical substance--to have more of it is to have more gravity--and matter as in importance, which, in hwbm, to have more of that is also to have more gravity

subz's characterization is deliberately ... more comfortable with sincerity than canon? this is a subz who has undergone enough character growth to be openly trans and not just Wearing A Dress As A Funny Bit, yk. this is a big part of chapter two lol, subz talking about how when she was younger she was Kind Of Shitty! i debated making Subz more ironic and shitty and such in this fic also to be more accurate to canon but ultimately i think it works bc of how i explicitly establish the ways in which Subz has grown past that

chapter names! prominence eruption is a solar phenomenon but i chose it mostly just bc prominence once again has a double meaning of importance. retroreflection is the ability of a surface to reflect light back; it's lunar-themed but it's also a metaphor here for zam reflecting subz. for the last chapter i wanted something vitalasy-themed but i didn't have anything solid so i went with 'impact crater' since (a) it's pretty generic to a lot of celestial bodies (b) the Ogygia Chasma is an impact crater (c) it does work, since so much of the fic is abt the lasting aftermath of vitalasy's suicide attempt

more names, this time ship-selves: all the canon ship-selves are named after specific features of the planet their pilot is named after (for example, Pluto (character) pilots the Krun Macula, which is a dark region on Pluto (planet)); in this au, they're not named after planets, but they do have convenient space theming (subz moon zam sun vitalasy stars) in canon that i got to kind of steal from! the Montes Harbinger is a cluster of lunar mountains, so named (and so chosen) bc it's a harbinger of the dawn; the corona is the outermost layer of the sun, but it also means "crown", which is fitting for zam. vitalasy's is trickier bc "stars" is not actually a coherent....object in astronomy that has physical features, especially not ones distinct from the sun? i considered doing a constellation but one of my betas was looking at various things in the solar system to get ship-self names from and encountered the Ogygia Chasma and went "this would make vitalasy so sad" and . well. who am i to not pick names that will make vitalasy sad. (the Ogygia Chasma, on Saturn's moon Tethys, is named after the island Ogygia in the Odyssey, where Calypso trapped Odysseus for seven years, preventing him from returning home bc she wanted to marry him. i think Vitalasy would have some feelings about this and her relationships!)

in heaven will be mine, each of the three pilots (Saturn, Pluto, and Luna-Terra) mostly interact with each other, but they also each have someone in their faction who they communicate with privately and work together with to advance their faction's goals, although the specifics of the relationship vary based on the pilot. i didn't really get to show this off in the fic beyond two one-off mentions but the person filling this role for Zam is Planet and the person filling this role for Vitalasy is Spoke. i have some amount of vision for the relationships there that just didn't get onscreened at all. oh well! part of this is because i have no clue who fills this role for Subz--so much of subz's character in s4 is tied up in his isolation that it's hard to give him a confidant and teammate outside of eclipse. (zam was the easiest--if i didn't give him planet i could've given him pangi or mapicc.) realistically if i were to choose someone it'd probably be reddoons but one of my beta readers joked that the person filling this role for subz is princess of memorial foundation & renowned twitter poster Halimede and i keep imagining this and giggling to myself

i'm pretty sure zam betraying both Memorial Foundation and Celestial Mechanics doesn't actually work with the canon timeline of the game but shhhhhhh it's an au don't worry about it

i listened to Communist Love Song a lot while writing this. something abt refusing to reject the possibility of a better future even when everyone says it's impossible. politically or romantically? yes.

fun fact: i had written a chunk of the first chapter for a while and it was just kind of hanging out in my google docs as hwbm au inspiration and then zam said "I only want to be represented as a girl. Kissing other girls." onstream and i wrote the entire rest of the fic in a day. and then spent over a week editing it lol

[thatscarletflycatcher]

the fiction project in your tags, is that Percival and Nadine? could you tell me a bit more about them? I’m newer here so I don’t really know them yet 🙈

Hi!! Yes :D

Don't worry, I don't think I ever wrote a public post about it, other than answering ask games and rambling in tags? XD Thank you :3

The story is set in England after the end of WWII. After spending most of the war as a WAAF (female branch of the Royal Air Force) Nadine has got a job with the Royal Mail, and goes as postmistress to the town of Avensley. Avensley is a small village near a market town, and it takes its name from the river Avensley, across which sits Avensley Hall, the seat of the squires of Avensley for centuries (listen, I can have one "Hamleys of Hamley since the times of Queen Anne" Gaskell joke. As a treat). Avensley Hall is at this point in time a rundown property; the old squire (as people still called them out of habit) and his wife died on a London raid, their daughter married a diplomat and is abroad, and the son, Percival, an architect, is the only one who remains at the hall, with his housekeeper. He was in the army, lost a leg in action in the middle of the Italian campaign, and now lives life as a semi-recluse at home. He has been mentally scarred by his experiences on the front and the sudden loss of his parents, and so between both ailments it's very difficult for him to do anything but linger on.

As you can imagine the story is mainly a romance XD and I'm shamelessly writing against tropes I dislike and around others I have a NUANCE take on, because... my story, I do what I want :P Nadine, for example, is a war widow; she fell in love with and rushed to marry a pilot, to 'chase away the ghost of death' that he felt about him, but he still died on a raid soon afterwards. James, the pilot, was a good man and a good husband BECAUSE THE EX DOESN'T HAVE TO BE EVIL. Anyways, she experiences a lot of shame because her family advised against it and she rejected the advice in a very... proud manner, so she's now estranged from them.

There's of course other characters at play, because part of the story is about how important community can be to a person's healing, and we all love the 'lovable and irritating neighbours in a village' trope (?) so you get the constable and the parson and the gossips and the inn/bar keeper and... and... there's the late postmaster's widow who for obvious reasons doesn't easily like Nadine and the niece that comes to live with her... there's an Italian architect, Giancarlo Domicelli (again, I am allowed the puns), who met Percival during the war (when Percival was in a field hospital where Giancarlo helped as a POW) and befriended him...

That's the general gist of it. The story is told mainly through letters Nadine sends her best friend, another ex-WAAF now married to a doctor and living in Dover, and letters Percival writes to his sister Eleanor.

[sycamoresiren]

The Winner Deals the Final Blow

This fic is for @neurodivergentcyborg as part of the MCYTBLR Gift Exchange!

It's a Double Life PearlescentMoon character-focused fic, and I'm pretty proud of it

I really hope you like it Emri!

CW: Vague violence, character death (Life Series appropriate), depiction of MC TNT

***

The remnant of bloodlust still pulsing in her veins carried Pearl up the steep hill to the common grounds.

Meet me at the place it all began, Scott’s note had said, so she trudged higher through the trees to the clearing where she knew he’d be waiting for her. She knew he was probably waiting for her to cross the threshold of the clearing so he could spring some trap and avenge Cleo. Now that only she and Scott remained, she was walking straight into another fight. She hadn’t stopped to clean her sword and her boots tracked the vestiges of snow in the grass near her destination.

The dense canopy of trees overhead thinned as purposeful steps drew her nearer to the meeting place, letting moonbeams filter down to the forest floor. A light near the ground caught her eye, so she strayed from her path to investigate the subtle glimmer at the base of a tree. Each step brought more into sight – the handles of an identical pair of diamond axes crossed and leaning against a gnarled oak, newly polished so that every nick in each sharp blade was easy to distinguish. She recognized those axes instantly. One of those axes belonged to Scott, and the other to Cleo. Her soulmate and the one he had chosen instead of her.

Nestled in the space between their handles she was surprised to see a pristine golden apple. She leaned and picked it up, turning it over reverently in her hands. These were banned, as just one bite would sever the tie between soulbounds. She could nearly feel the chaotic power singeing her fingertips as she held it. How long had Scott kept this, pulling it out in moments alone and almost succumbing to the temptation to sink his teeth in? He would have been free of Pearl, no longer bound to the mad lady, the Demoness, as some called her. And he left it here, carefully added to a memorial for the person he wanted to be bound to. Was this Scott’s way of apologizing to Cleo for not eating it?

The thought angered her. She turned her eyes to the path ahead of her where she knew Scott was waiting, over the horizon from her view.

It was Scott’s fault in the first place that she ended up like this. His rejection had cut deep, deeper than anyone else understood. Sure, other soulbound pairs had their own dynamics, their own version of what it meant to be bound to each other, but none of them had been rejected as thoroughly as Scott had rejected Pearl. Even Cleo’s rejection of Martyn hadn’t been that complete, and they had even grown to care for each other in some sort of way. A convoluted, hostile but resigned sort of way. Scott had done everything except drag the strings of fate from the cosmohyphic plane and sever them himself. Now she knows he might have even had a way of doing that but never used it. What sort of chaos would that have caused though? Messing with the fabric of reality never comes without its consequences. In this case, reality was that Scott was soulbound to Pearl, no matter how much he fought it and denied it, bargained and wished. So, they had remained soulbound, Pearl’s sanity slowly deteriorating and Scott living in denial. Cleo was dead now though. Pearl had left her for last. And that left just the two of them.

Pearl returned the golden apple to its resting place, guarded by those vile weapons, and she quickly moved to put the peaceful place behind her. Within the next few strides, she crossed into the clearing where Scott is waiting for her. By the lightening sky, Pearl saw Scott is kneeling in the clearing, unhurriedly checking and polishing each piece of his armor. His back is turned, and he makes no indication that he’s noticed Pearl’s entrance. I can take him by surprise, she thought, and end this confrontation before its even begun.

Her hand twitched at her side, ready to grasp the handle of her weapon as she stalked around the edge of the clearing, footsteps precise and intentional, eyes focused on Scott’s systematic movements. The way her heart leapt in anticipation of dealing the final blow was familiar to her by now. No matter how many times she had raised her weapon against another person, her hands still trembled with uncertainty. Her hands were uncertain, but her mind was not. Ever since the first time she had borne hostility down on someone who she had once considered a friend, she had no doubt of the necessity of her actions. It wasn’t that she thought they deserved it; it was more so she knew she deserved her revenge. This time was no different. She would kill Scott, because she was supposed to, because that’s the only way this was going to end, and Pearl wasn’t going to wait for him to get to her first. Her weapon was half raised, gleaming in the pale light when she froze in place as Scott began to speak.

“I didn’t think it would end this way,” he said conversationally. “It goes without saying I didn’t have a lot of faith in us.”

She glanced over his shoulder at what he’s doing. All of his weapons and armor, what remained after he left those twin axes at their respectful resting place in the forest, were clean, organized and neatly packed away, not ready for battle. She lowered her weapon.

Of course he hadn’t had faith in them. If he had seen any redeeming qualities in her at all, he would have given her at least one chance. Pearl wonders what that would have been like. What would have happened if at the beginning of this, instead of emerging from her dangerous nether journey to Scott’s cold accusation of abandonment, contrasted and punctuated by Cleo’s fiery, vehement insistence that any soulmate worth keeping would have sought them out before anything else, she had been welcomed by someone who appreciated her valor, her willingness to get her hands dirty and do the things that needed to be done? What would have happened if she had been valued for possessing the very qualities she had been vilified for?

“I had faith,” she softly broke the silence after a moment. “I had faith in myself, and my dogs.” Maybe I would have had faith in you, too, if I’d been given the chance, she left unsaid.

Scott chuckled as his hands finally ceased their work and he turned toward her, rising. “You’re right about that. Whatever we said about you, that you were unhinged, bloodthirsty, or demonic, that’s one good thing we all knew you had. You never doubted yourself for one moment, did you?”

Pearl thought about all the things she’d done, confidently and without hesitation. She had the nerve to do things others would have immediately abandoned in their minds as too severe, too impulsive, and she had the audacity do them with unfaltering confidence.

“It paid off, didn’t it?” she countered defensively. She refused to be criticized for her methods, here, at the end of the journey, and now, moments from dealing the final winning blow. One decisive strike is all it would take to turn her into a victor, even though it would mean her life was cut off as well. After all, she and Scott were still bound. His suffering was hers; his pain was hers too, and his death would render her both victor and victim of her own violence.

“Of course,” he said placatingly, “I didn’t mean to imply you’re overconfident. How could I, given where we are right now?”

Pearl looked at the clearing around them. It was jarringly serene to her, after the night of violence she had endured, and the adrenaline still in her veins caused her heart to beat overwhelmingly in her ears, drowning out the sound of early birdsong. The sun has risen over the horizon now, and the dewy grass seemed to glow in the golden rays. Since they hadn’t spent much of their time here it was mostly untouched, bearing none of the marks of human interference that had been created in other places farther off. Perhaps at the start of this, she would have found it a wonderful place for a picnic.

But this place held a much graver significance. Her thoughts drifted towards the others who had once passed through this clearing with her, finding their soulmates in one another and laughing, or returning for secret meetings, leaving their respective soulbounds in the shadows to look away and pretend they didn’t see the betrayal. All those others were gone now. The air felt heavy with departed souls, and Pearl could almost hear the specters calling out, insistent, though she couldn’t interpret what they tried so hard to convey.

When her gaze returned to Scott, she saw he had pulled something from his pack. He held a flare in his hand, primed and ready to light. Pearl knew well there was no one around to signal, as did Scott, but she was wary of what he planned to do with it.

He lit the flare against the striker as he spoke next. “No, I think your faith paid off. You deserve to be here.”

He raised the flare in front of him as he took one, two, three steps backward. He looked evenly into her eyes, for once neither shrinking back nor skipping over her.

“You deserve this more than I do.”

Pearl didn’t see the TNT under his feet until the flare had already left his hand.

[kiawren]

Hi... Im no legitimate poet or anything...Was listening to these deft.ones songs and started writing something about kiawren on the bus home

This is so self indulgent I'm sorry.. idk if you can understand my abstract writing and it's okay if you don't 😭😭

For anyone that bothers... I'll try to explain the poem but you can interpret it how you'd like :))

These are some of the lyrics inspiring it (romantic dreams, diamond eyes, sextape)

The title—I was thinking that the only constant of his between real life and my self insert world is his name, I can say it here just the same as I can there, everything else about him otherwise isn't real.. Hence the two realms, and the inspiration from the lyric "I'm hypnotized by your name" (more to add to this towards the end of the poem!)

The Vermillion bird (basically a phoenix) is from Chinese myth, I think it represents both of us becuz fire and bird.

'Take me one more time/Take me one last wave/Take me one last ride' is from Sextape, I heard it as I started typing the poem, so I just added it in hehhee .... for 'wave', I often think about us sitting in Wela volcano park overlooking the ocean together. It's vast and beautiful. For 'ride', I also like to imagine us going for rides on char.izard together.

'rilles' are from volcanic flows on the moon, with i learnt when Googling while writing this. Actually I thought they were for normal volcanoes too, before I googled again when typing this, well they're only on the moon, lol that gives another meaning (kiawren sun/moon dynamic loll). The rilles here are in my veins cuz he just has that impact on me☺️

There's stuff like 'burning a visage on skin', 'place my tongue where you blaze' 'bleed the sea whole' cuz that's what people would typically do for their lovers you know. (/sarcasm) I just mean I would go to such lengths for him.

Synonyms of red—cherry, ruby, cardinal, in a way those lines are getting more intense.. The plush of youth (our young love and its dreaminess) and the clush of rubies, then cardinal in my head also alludes biblically like 'cardinal sin' that's why I wrote 'cardinal hell', the red becomes so red! And yes more on the hell later.

Clush is also a song by Isles & Glaciers that makes me think of kiawren so I added that word :)

'rose-cauterized eyes' — I like the phrase 'rose-tinted eyes', took a different way here with the cauterization, something more graphic like those other stuff I had up there, I feel like if you'd cauterize eyes you'd see through foggy, patched-over, maybe painful vision. But if you cauterize with roses... There's also layer of romanticism.

'meteors-heavy stubborn blue sky'... When I listen to 'diamonds reign across the sky' in the song diamond eyes I think is us watching miniors together (a poke.mon that's basically a meteor). Hmm, it's hard to explain it, but the red-rose overworld downturning into stubborn blue sky kinda has the feeling of the worlds and skies turning and colliding, and the red/blue kiawren you know... like a merger, something dynamic and disorienting... Anyway it kinda leads into the last part too!!!

'My heart' —yes it's both my literal heart going up in flames when I love him and also him, becuz this is also my term of endearment for him. And he burns in his passion. He burns brighter than I ever can.

Ok last part that Im excited to type out

While a mythical being all proud and overbearing yet unhelpful in the alluded Nirvana, and 'romantic' people look up to this fictional mythical heaven-ruler (they're idealistic hence the word romantic, also that this 'romance' is more insincere),,,,,,

I have independently travelled inside the Earth to unite with my Kiawe!!!!! Orpheus and Eurydice!!!!!!!! I am Orpheus for real.....i'd cave so hard.

Last two lines are interesting becuz I 'see my baby', but Orpheus doesn't get to see Eurydice..... Meanwhile don't 'turn back to a blue sky', I reject the reality of a blue sky, like how the red overworld downturns into it earlier, for the fantasy of a red realm with my loveeee... Instead of not being able to turn to 'Eurydice' which here is Kiawe!!!!!, I *can* see him!!!! instead I do not face a reality, and I succeed in uniting with him away from it.

Also I've been wanting include the Vermillion bird in writing for kiawren. Didn't expect to be hating on it in the poem LOL