#Its Long. So Long. And I doubt I covered every single thing.

[reapcrbunny]

Hello.

To the Followers that remain, new people seeing this message wondering what thas been going on, and people checking on this blog to see if I’m still here . .

I’m writing this to express my apology and accountability for the last year and a bit that this blog ( and soulseekcr ) was active.

My original pinned with my rules doc attached has been replaced with this post but I will place my rules for prosperity purposes here. If you are reading this post on soulseekcr's blog, you will see it link to dahlia's rules document, though the rules information that has been updated was also updated on that too. Fair warning, this post is long and there will be no read-more, hence the content warnings below. I do not wish for it to be seen as me trying to hide something when I at this point am trying to be genuine, truthful and sincere in where I have failed.

Thus, the content warnings are as follows and read at your comfort or pace: mentions of grooming / predatory actions, my behaviour, boundaries being pushed, mentions of incest.

I implore people reading this already rolling their eyes to bare with this whole thing — please. This is not me tossing blame on other people. It’s just .. me. I know this is long. I apologize. I have much to apologize for and acknowledge. This apology is to the people who saw me in general and to who that hurt because of my past behaviour that, in 2016 - 2018 had been predatory and grooming. This apology is to the people that have been effected directly or indirectly from my actions of being in various servers either from their conception or later on — it was never at all my intent to “ block evade “ as I have been said to have. This apology is to the people who I made feel my writing(s) with them were coerced. I will get into everything if I can. If I miss something, I am sorry, there is a lot that is going around that I have done and without any real knowledge of what else there is besides what I know. I'm speaking about what I know I have done in years past up to the Australian date of 19th April 2023. This was written by me and me alone. Before you ask yourself or think to someone who may have prompted me to write this - no one has told me to make a statement or say any of this. This has been written over a course of a day throughout my work breaks and upon me returning home by my own volition. Thank you.

This apology will cover the grooming / predator accusations, the block evasion accusations, my behaviour and some other things that I believe have been brought up over the course of the last few days through people writing to me as a final goodbye through discord or other means. For starters: my intent was to try and find a community to interact in where I could possibly grow and change in. It is clear, obviously, that this action was taken as something more hurtful and my intentions? They do not matter. I’ve hurt people by existing in discord and certain tumblr spaces and effectively caused more harm. Making my blog over on soulseekcr was, in my mind, harmless. But to some it was seen as, once again, block evasion or someone I did out of malice. To say I did not, again, I know may not be believed and that is alright. I understand how things now look and how I can be believed is non existent. To comment on the apparent confusion, surprise and most likely ridicule, about my rules seeming to be non transparent is something I absolutely apologize over.

For the past few years ( since the edit done when my receipts blog was created in 2020 ) no one brought up the fact that my rules were hard to read due to the formatting itself or that the rule under where I dropped my receipts blog wherein my callouts are located was an issue or seen as me hiding my past. While it clearly does not matter now as, well, y’know … it has been updated to be at the very top and if I ever decide to write either here on this blog or anywhere on tumblr again it will be done in such a way. I am not placing blame on any one person for not telling me this, nor am I going to blame my autism OR my learning disability in full for it not clicking that when people seemed surprised over things that were in my rules when it was brought to them by other parties that, like, it was an accessibility, placement or a me problem rather people than just not reading. I am aware that I have absolutely expressed my disgruntlement on main ( and in private ) about it which, absolutely has been hurtful to the people who were affected by this. Again, I am sorry for not taking the steps earlier to move things around on my rules document sooner. Following the issue with my rules document not being clear or as some clarified " being too far down " … it does make sense wherein people would be surprised over the actions I committed seven years ago.

The behaviour of me writing smut or initiating smut discussions, sharing nsfw art that I have commissioned among other things related to smut content . . was understood to be agreed upon on my end to be something chill on all fronts. If I ever felt something was a little off I either clarified to make sure everything was okay / if comfort levels were okay or dropped the conversation. In my belief, if content being written was being continued then I didn't think anything was wrong as I believed comfort levels were intact. Clearly, they were not. Should I have been, like, more self aware? Probably. Was I? No. Despite my learning disability and autism in understanding things like tone in writing or subtle hints to be like 0% and with long covid throwing that into the negatives . . i still pushed boundaries. Whether I meant to or not does not matter. The excuse I used wherein I would be excited to write with people at all does not matter. People were made uncomfortable and I pushed your boundaries. To individuals I was under the impression I writing with and coming up ideas with -- I wasn't on top of it enough to catch onto discomfort and disassociation and I am at fault. I got caught up in writing something I believed to be at comfort level, when it was not due to signs i did not see - and that is on me. If boundaries were actively being pushed and told to me directly I would have backed off, apologised, and carried on with different genre's of content as I would have been aware that the consent of the nsfw was no longer, like, consensual. For that, to the probable boundless people I have hurt with this, I do not blame any of you for this. I was. Really excited to write with people who were giving me another chance at the time. I have even expressed this fact on voice calls or in text that I was just overjoyed to write with people or I needed communication on certain things - But I was blind to the fact that people were uncomfortable, noticeable or not in terms of distancing content and that is on me and I am sorry.

The grooming accusations? Regardless of my age and how I was just barely an adult at the time or not does not matter. Regardless of me not being sexual in any capacity to the the original maker of my 2018 callout ( wherein my grooming behaviour happened in 2016 - 17 ) or the other individual I dated prior to me turning 18 does not matter. What matters is that, yes, it happened. Regardless of me backing off or not, I was 18 - 20 and I voiced my crush on a minor ( and dated someone else when I was 18 after turning so ). It does not matter to individuals that these actions are not being committed anymore — I will be seen as a monster always to some and, while frustrating to me, that does not matter. What matters is that is how they feel and I respectfully accept that. I was short - sighted to believe that something I did seven years ago to such a degree was something that people could see me change from or that staying in my own lane was possible. I cannot see the man who hurt me as likely changing. It makes sense. It wasn’t and I was wrong. No amount of double checking, blacklisting on my end or trying to co-exist in servers or any activity was going to probably work. Could it have? Maybe a little better. Or not. In hindsight I genuinely don't know -- but I do know that my belief was wrong, unintentionally I continued hurting people directly and indirectly and I am sorry. The last few days wherein my initial statement was made and commented about incest only was my mistake alone. I assumed due to a previous interaction that it was only about that and proceeded to think I was being compared. I breached trust with someone who gave me that information, someone I do not blame this on as it was my fault for running with it and I am sorry.

The trauma the person who was warning the community about because of the grooming in 2016 - 2017 was ( is? tense is hard, I am sorry ) warranted. The belief that I am always and will be that to them, a groomer and/or unchanged, is valid as that is all I will be remembered as to them and anyone else who had been effected by my actions. To the person who made the callout: I apologize. I heard that you were dogpiled — that was not something I wanted nor asked for. Your request to avoid me and the people that wrote with me was valid, it never not was. My behaviour in the past ( and, clearly, in the present ) being made to seem as current set me off and I made a statement I asked if it was alright to make about it to what I thought was the case. I felt I was being chased into a corner and grew defensive. I had a meltdown because of this and stepped away from the conversation as I felt either me or the other person I was dialoguing with wasn't understanding or trying to rile me up on purpose. It was charged, I handled it wrong and I was seen to be deflecting the situation because I misunderstood and misinterpreted the situation -- it is no ones fault but mine. I made assumptions, I had a public meltdown in a server when confronted with the reality I didn't understand where it was coming from because I was triggered by words being spouted at me. As I explain above in terms of the coercion that I have made others feel been committed by myself, among literally everything else I've seen from people before they've left in their goodbye discord messages . . was such. Whether I meant to or not, people were feeling hurt by current behaviour or coersed. But because I grew hyperfocused on the belief that I was being compared to someone who was writing incestuous content actively I did not know about on main when it was brought to my attention. Due to the events being one after another ( like days apart ) I thought that ( guilty by association or writing said content with them ) was the reason I was being called out ( again ). I got upset. I thought it was something to just start a lie. I got defensive, blind to anything else and as someone has said: remorseless. To say I am remorseful as I had the chance to be disconnected and isolated from the situation since I was removed from servers, cut off from those who were people I talked to . . is true. I've sat and come out of defence and shut down mode, read the last messages people have given me and properly stepped away, went to work, and got my brain to realize the reality. I'm remorseful because I was not calm. I tried to express my understanding of my victims and those I hurt and how they feel by bringing up my own -- which, like, in my understanding . . to bring up how i relate to other peoples' experiences is to express compassion or understanding with the situation. However, it was viewed and made to feel as weaponizing my victimhood and spinning the narrative and I am sorry. I was upset, defensive and already under the assumption that something else was why I was being called out. I saw it as an attack that made no sense. I felt antagonized, grew childish and lashed out in the conversation which is plain to see. I did not understand where it came from so suddenly, as I thought I had steered away and kept distance from people I knew didn't like me in a " public space " but I know now that me just being there was not helping and I recognize that. I recognize that it is not about me and my change or lack thereof - it was about victims of my actions being heard. I am sorry that it took so long and I was either ignorant, blind or just ??? I don't know. In any case: the conversation has been documented several times at this point and by now is most likely on my receipts blog.

The actions and other behaviours I committed when I was younger ( and currently with those who I made feel coerced, lies, etc ) … it effected people and still does even when it happened 7 years past and now, recently. As a survivor of csa I understand completely in how it follows people and while I know my apology cannot fix the trauma, loss or hurt that has been caused: please know that I am sorry. I am sorry that due to my lack of awareness, my excitement to write with people or, like, common sense that my appearance kept being seen. I believed blacklisting would fix the situation or that it was the problem in the first place. It wasn't. I believed that the state my rules were at was fine. It wasn’t. It was not my intent for people to feel deceived or lied to due to the content I expressed above but, again, my view of it does not matter. It happened and I am sorry for it. Actions have been taken on my end for it to be deadly clear and you are welcome to look and see. While in my head, saying or acknowledging any of this feels like a moot point, because again who is going to believe me? Who is going to read this? Who knows. Even if no one does, it needs to be said. I believed I'd been doing better in engaging with people who brought up serious topics to me wherein boundaries were breached, I got called out in my behaviour, acted a fool and got hyperfocused on the wrong thing and stepped away from the conversation when I felt it was going nowhere because of my own fault of not calming down. My aim was to not try and control a narrative, my aim was to, in my narrowminded view, not be accused of things I thought I was not doing anymore. Regardless of being directly aware or not of the things I was doing . . it was happening. I was doing the one thing I never wanted to do again or be the cause of: hurting people I saw as my friends. Its not a fault of a lack of communication on both sides, it is me still being unable to recognize social cues or subtle cues that, hey, maybe someone is uncomfortable, it should not always have to be something that has to be punched in my face. It is something I need to continue working on and be more attentive of if I'm ever granted another chance or I write in another rpc again. Semi - finally, I want to apologize to the individuals, moderators and admins that ran servers I was in that were accused of harbouring me in some sort of guilty way. Your mental health has been effected irrevocably and I am sorry. I am sorry for indirect or direct words spoken in your directions. I am sorry to the people that had to either be triggered by the content discussed in the server itself to those who i made feel uncomfortable. I am sorry that my presence in my selfish attempt to have a safe space ruined yours. I am sorry to anyone and everyone that has been indirectly effected by this and your comfort shattered. I am sorry to the individuals that I made feel that my victimhood or my pain was more important than yours. Your pain has and always will be important, relevant and real. My behaviour that you ( and others ) more than likely brought up days ago, and the behaviour that has been more than likely been mentioned in the reblogs of the post, others' or, god knows where else . . was valid to speak out about. Thank you for doing it and holding me accountable. I have not seen everything said and I do not know if I ever will as it will 100% be a breach of boundary if I go looking on peoples' blogs. And I have already done enough damage. I want to thank my former friends and people who gave me a chance at all. I’m sorry that I abused that chance, your boundaries and the trust that was given.

Where will Miles be going to hide next you might ask, wondering when I'll shut up and end this very long post, disappear and reappear somewhere else under a different name. I am not going to hide is my short answer. But I don't have an answer for long term of what I am going to do. The answer I do have for the short term is to leave this post here and on @soulseekcr pinned. Leave avenue's open for dialogue or if anyone left wants to talk to me, and . . take an indefinite hiatus. I clearly need to reflect on what I have definitely blundered on and work on, again, the things I can work on to be more attentive to social / text cues. Actively being here when I have not, like, properly done so when I think I have is doing no one any good. I've made a mess of things. A big one. I know that people who have been hurt by me mayhap not have made it this far and I am aware of that. I am aware that my second chance ( or third or fourth ) has left the building and for that I understand if, in the future, I have run out of them. If I do return to this or any rpc, this blog will be the first to be updated with the url most likely under this pinned post. I do apologize in advance if I am seen in FFXIV, I've taken steps to remove from my friends list those I know do not wish to see me - which does, you know, make you not stand out to me. I am sorry if you see me, the blacklist feature is useless and we all know this. I am sorry if you get upset that I am either in your area, in your alliance or in your dungeon. I will say nothing. I will not bother you. I will not interact in any form besides to probably heal you if I am and then leave. Most likely I'll remain silent if I notice ahead of time. If I have already been removed from the FC's I was attached too - good. If not, don't worry, I've already likely deleted that alt or in the process after posting this to do so. FFXIV is a global game and while, again, my credibility is shot and at this point no one is bound to believe me . . I am not in the business of looking after people in the game to see what is going on. I'm not wishing to press boundaries that have already been run over by a truck.

Finally, I know that this post is being shared in private, picked apart and dissected before anyone even got down to this point. I am not in control of that and I am at the mercy of the ffxiv RPC, my receipts blog ( probably ) and anyone else picking this apart or wherever else it ends up. I hold no malice to the people that do this as it is fair and deserved. If anyone has questions, wants to talk or if anyone wants to discuss my statement ( calmly and without coming at me swinging and even if you do: that's fine. i will probably take an hour at most to read it over a couple times, breathe and then respond like a human being rather than someone just. like. unwilling to listen and defensive. ) I am available on discord ( ᴇᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ ꜱᴜᴘᴘᴏʀᴛ ᴠɪᴇʀᴀ#7914 ; this will update if i update it ), through Twitter DMs ( @sayteenies ; this has no chance of changing or me moving ) or through tumblr DMs / asks — though this last avenue may take longer for me to respond to due to by above mentioned however - long - hiatus. Thank you for reading this monster of a post, everyone keeping me accountable, your time and sanity to get to the end.

Miles. | April 19 2023.

[moodymisty]

Part 1

Author's note: I love him

Relationships: Mortarion/Fem!Reader

Warnings: Mortarion's confession, NSFW flashback in the beginning with male masturbation, vomit (nonsexual and unrelated to NSFW scene), gross Morty body stuff, he has zero rizz

The repeated hiss of his respirator is heavy in the stagnant air of the hall, only occasionally losing its smooth crescendo and decline when his throat hitches. His breathing has never been normal- he stopped caring about that sort of thing long ago.

Pale eyes glance around again.

You should be here by now; But he spots nothing familiar.

Did you decide- to for the first time since he first cast his eyes on you- to disobey him? Did something else distract you?

His mind fills with imagery of you wandering off somewhere else, to someone else- and in an impulsive fit of doubt he decides that he would have one of his men drag you here if need be.

He could, and if anything the behavior would be expected of him. Encouraged. You don't make the Pale King wait.

But yet... He waits- patiently- eyes flicking to the entryway every twenty seconds or so. A primarch standing around like a beaten dog waiting for it's master.

Embarrassing.

Attempting to clear his throat Mortarion shifts beneath his clothes, feeling the way they almost stick to his skin. He bathed himself relatively recently by his standards- though instead of the stick of grime and dirt, it's the catch of dried sweat from no less than an hour ago.

He can still feel that sensation in the back of his head, the aftershocks of thoughts and actions forbidden. He hates how this one has lingered. They've all begun to.

His cock throbbed, leaking over his gaunt, pale fingers and making his shaft slicker- and the feeling even more pleasant.

He covered his face full of a warranted shame, grunting and huffing as he ground into his own hand like some sort of feral street dog. His knees cracked, his back ached- he imagined the callused give of his hand was warmer, wetter, tighter- squeezing around him. Pushing back. Trying to push him out; The difference in size too great. The way he was bent made the imagery more vivid, like you were pinned underneath him.

If he closed his eyes tight enough, he could just picture it, though the image was just out of reach- his fingertips ghosting the very edge but unable to grasp it.

He stained the fabric of his bed once he was done, shoving it into the fireplace to burn. No one will ever see the scattering of fabric that is yet burned, nor would they question it even if they did.

How much farther can he let himself fall? Enough that he's found himself overtaken by desires that he once thought were pointless- inconvenient and only satiated out of maintenance, desperate for something he knows he cannot have?

Maybe... Perhaps if he-

If you refuse him, he can abandon this entire pursuit- throw himself back into his work and give not a single thought to you again. You could leave The Endurance and he wouldn't even know you were gone, lost among an endless sea of pointless existences.

Because he can't... he can't keep doing this.

It's consuming his mind- You are consuming his mind.

You eat away at it like a disease bent on devouring him more than the poisons of Barbarus ever have; At least they never impeded with his mental capacity.

As you do right now- your soft eyes eat away at his dried, scarred skin like a flesh eating plague as you come to stand before him, and now his tongue feels as if it's made of lead.

He called you here- coming to you would seem too desperate- and your first words had been to apologize if you had offended him. A smart intuition, because you did offend him; You offended him by refusing to leave his mind, you offended him by refusing to leave him be in the sanctity of his warship, you offended him by offering him what he can only describe as pity.

But pity wears away; You've stayed, endured where your fellows left. For what reasons kept you going? Kept you here? He'd like to know.

"I," Mortarion hesitates for a moment. "I wish to speak to you about a particular matter."

This is it. He is just going to do it. Just get over this, and if you refuse? if you run away from him in fear or disgust? He's down his last remembrancer.

boo hoo. He never wanted them anyhow.

His rusty armor clunks against each other as he shifts. You watch him with expectancy, a soft look on your face that has Mortarion almost at a loss for words, if only for a moment.

He should take off his respirator for this.

It's clunky, gets in the way, he feels like it muffles his speech and baseline humans have trouble understanding him. Their paltry hearing, though it is fact. Though he's never remembered you having an issue with it.

He can feel your eyes watching keenly as he starts to unfasten in, accidentally tangling his hair a bit at the nape of his neck. He hears the hiss as it unseals, and he pulls it away from his face to fasten it to his belt. He feels ok, and takes on full breath of cool Terran air before opening his mouth to let the first unmuffled word pass.

But before a single word can leave his lips he instantly rips into a massive cough, covering his mouth with his hands. He feels spittle and blood from popped blood vessels hit his palms, and his ribs shift uncomfortably as he keels over. He can feel the way his lungs are ripping themselves apart, filling with blood and mucus. The next cough sends him to his knee, his leg plating hitting the ground hard enough to crack the tile beneath him.

He can barely make out your expression standing before him as tears prick the corners of his eyes, and another burst of coughs tear at his throat like the claws of a gauntlet.

You look horrified.

He tries with all his might to tense his throat and halt the hacking, but only manages to suck in just enough breath that it brushes the back of his throat and makes it all worse.

You take a step closer to him, but it's clear there's nothing you can do to help him.

"L-Lord Mortarion! Are you-"

From the incessant coughing his throat seizes up so much, his stomach muscles ache in pain, and he feels a familiar rising warmth in his face and mouth.

No. No no no no no-

Fulgrim's banquet feast from the night before suddenly rises in his throat, then his mouth, and before he can even try stopping it- it's running through his fingers and all over the floor with a disgusting splatter.

After harsh fit of coughing wracks his body, slowly feeling the ache in his chest of his lungs finally healing before it finally secedes; He wipes his eyes to see you standing and staring at him in shock, the primarch's dinner all over the floor in front of you.

Mortarion has had a long life; Longer that yours, by a decent margin. Embarrassment was never something he dealt with.

Now, he feels like he is quite literally going to explode. If the ground were to open up and swallow him, he would probably acquiesce to his fate with little complaint.

No one would miss him. Plus he's sure Garro and Typhon would manage just fine without him.

"Are..."

You look at him with wide eyes, mouth slightly agape. He can see your lips twitch as you try to find the words. He perhaps would understand if your little brain couldn't find any.

"...Are you ok?"

He doesn't quite know how to answer that question, honestly.

His lungs have degraded and rebuilt themselves enough to breathe this cool, poison-less air, and while he had anticipated some coughing, he failed to remember just how... Intense, it could get.

He should have known eating last night was a mistake.

You just seem worried, however- looking at him like he's going to fall right over hands outstretched towards him. You look at him like he's sick, but sick in a way that would could in theory help.

You take a step forward, much to his surprise; Though of course not close enough to risk slipping.

By the Throne- the half thought of that crosses his mind and he wants to cast his own head into his bedchamber's fireplace.

"I-" Mortarion lets out another brief cough; Of which thankfully doesn't lead into another fit. "I am fine."

He is fine- his lungs have adjusted and the air doesn't burn his throat, but you don't seem to take his words seriously. With the deftness of your thin fingers you unwrap the shawl around your shoulders, handing it to him.

"...Here."

He doesn't get what you mean by this at first, staring at the patterned fabric like it in some way offended him. You gesture it out to him again, and he then realizes you're offering it to him to clean up, of which he then begrudgingly grabs, before wiping the bile out of the corners of his mouth and fingers.

The soft fabric of your clothing now destroyed, he balls it up in his fist and holds onto it, discontent to ever dare try and return it to you soiled.

"Lets, lets get you something to drink. I would think you might need one right about now..."

You reach to grasp his hand- the clean one- and try to pull him along, of which he allows, surprisingly.

He lets himself get toted along by someone half his size; A pathetic sight.

He continues to let it happen until you find a serf you can order to get some water, and Mortarion can shirk off to clean his hand and face.

His mouth doesn't taste like bile anymore, at least.

When he sees you again after he's cleaned up, there's an odd look on your face. Your wring your wrists nervously.

"...You were going to say something?" You look at him expectantly, before clarifying. "Before you started coughing, you... You said you wanted to talk to me. What was it?"

He had.

He had wanted to tell you how he felt, and instead he had humiliated himself by coughing blood and vomit all over the floor. He displayed right in front of you that he is a broken, sick and decayed excuse for a man; He was built for death and war, not... this. The fact that he's even allowed himself to make a fool out of himself like this is an embarrassment to the entire legion and reputation he's crafted.

How you could ever look at him the way he so boldly, pathetically, desperately wishes when he- a primarch- just displayed what a vile excuse for a human he is?

Mortarion swallows thickly like there's a literal knot in his throat, before just turning around and walking away.

[unclewaynemunson]

It takes a while before Eddie catches up to what’s happening. It’s subtle, really, an untold story in slightly averted gazes and barely-visible scowls. But he starts paying extra attention to it when he catches Steve resolutely facing the other way when they pass a storefront with a couple of mirrors in it. From that moment, it doesn’t take long before Eddie notices the pattern, the way Steve meticulously avoids basically every reflective surface like it’s becoming a second nature for him.

When he finally asks Steve about it, Eddie sees how his face drops, and he kind of wishes he hadn’t brought it up. It pains him to see Steve like that.

‘I just - I don’t really recognize myself, anymore,’ Steve says. ‘I know it’s really fucking superficial, but I used to be this hot dude, you know. The guy everyone wanted to be with. And now I’m just some guy, with glasses and hearing aids and a belly and a retreating hairline, and a gross scar around his neck.’

Eddie can actually feel his heart shrink in his chest. He hates this for Steve. He wants to make clear to his boyfriend exactly how beautiful he still is, not despite, but exactly because of all the things he just mentioned.

'Those things can still go together, you know,’ he says, playfully shoving his shoulder against Steve’s, pressing a quick kiss against the scar on his neck. ‘If you ask me, you’re still the hottest dude in all of Hawkins. You’ll always be.’

And slowly, a smile starts creeping over Steve’s face. ‘You sure about that?’

Eddie nods, not looking away. ‘Hundred percent.’

Since that day, Eddie starts keeping a stack of post-its and a pen in the bathroom. Every night before he goes to bed, he sticks a new note on the bathroom mirror: “I love the color of your eyes.” “I love your soft tummy.” “Your hearing aids make you look like a sexy cyborg.” “Did you know your nose looks biteable AF?” “Your moles are more beautiful than any constellation.” The stream of compliments is endless, but not once does Eddie have to make an effort to come up with something new.

And that’s how the mirror stops being Steve’s enemy. Because ever since the first note, it’s become his new favorite thing to look in the mirror, the very first thing he wants to do when he wakes up in the morning. The messages always manage to surprise him, tirelessly keep pointing out new things about him, always in the most Eddie-ish way possible: funny, sweet, unhinged, caring, horny, genuine... And always so full of love. The one thing he can always count on.

But one morning, a day after he and Eddie got into a heated fight with each other, Steve steps into the bathroom with dread clawing at his stomach. He knows the mirror will be empty. Eddie was so fucking angry at him last night.

Unexpectedly, he does spot a note, a purple post-it with Eddie’s handwriting on it. He feels the overwhelming urge to cover his eyes, because this time, there will be something mean on it, no doubt. Eddie will tear apart what used to be the best part of Steve’s day with one single sentence. He steps closer, swallows, gets ready to face the music.

“I’m still mad at you but godDAMN why do you look so fucking HOT when you’re shouting at me that’s fucking unfair.”

Steve stares at the note for a full five minutes before taking it off the mirror and adding it to his ever-growing post-it collection. He’s completely overwhelmed by the love Eddie showed him even while he was angry. By the certainty behind that simple gesture. The unwavering commitment in Eddie’s actions.

Steve wakes Eddie up with a kiss and a cup of coffee. They talk it out, like they always do, and he buys a ring for Eddie the next day.

[champagnefountains]

So...Alastor went missing for a while after the extermination right? Would you be open to a story where the reader is taking care of Al after he gets back? Maybe still a little mad at him for vanishing, more worried about him being hurt...just the fall out that comes from not knowing if he was alive or not? Your first Lucifer story was wonderful!! You really have a solid foundation for this and I'm excited to see more from you!!

Aw, thank you so much! I'm really, really glad you enjoyed the Lucifer story! And omg, I love this idea...I live for angst so here's some more~!

ALASTOR - H.H.

A/N: They probably were able to rebuild the entire hotel in less than a day, but just to make it more dramatic, I made Alastor's disappearance two days long. Also, I'm not exactly too happy with the pacing here...so I apologise in advance ;-;

Word count: 2.8k+ words (I need to control myself...also unedited, sorta). Genre/other tags: Angst with good ending. OOC Alastor (I think?...sorry...). Warnings: Cursing. Mentions of blood. Talk about loss/death.

After the cancellation of this year’s extermination and Hell's victory against Heaven’s forces, Charlie and the team had spent the next couple of days repairing the damages caused. The team’s morale was as high as ever as they busied themselves reconstructing and making significant renovations to the hotel, their spirits brightening at the prospect of the potential influx of evil-doers to their establishment. There was no doubt that the hotel’s popularity had boomed, as there wasn’t a single soul in Hell that didn’t know about their contribution towards the annual culling. 

However, there was one thing that had been plaguing your mind since the end of the bloodshed: Alastor's whereabouts. Everyone, including yourself, knew that the Radio-Demon was more than capable of looking after himself, considering his high-regarded reputation in all the Nine Circles. However, it’s been two days since the battle and there wasn’t a single trace of him anywhere. And as his significant other, it bothered you to no end. And it wasn’t like you could call him either – Alastor strictly refused to use a mobile phone or any electronic device, no matter how much you pried. He didn’t even make any attempts to reach out to you, whether it be from your own portable radio that he gifted you, or even a small note or letter. Absolutely nothing.

Currently, the hotel has just completed its final transformation with big thanks to Lucifer and Charlie's magical powers and sorcery. With your distress multiplying with every passing second, you couldn't bring yourself to be as excited as the others. You silently excused yourself from the group by the main entrance, wandering off to the furthest side of the building and turning the corner. With a trembling sigh, you leaned against the wall, covering your mouth with your hands as a sob wracks through your body.

You hadn't felt as anxious as you were, in so, so long. It must've been the build up from the months-long preparations made to fend off Heaven to now, that had you overwhelmed. Yes, there was no doubt that Alastor was powerful, but he fought Adam head on – the very first man – which you were able to only catch minor glimpses of in the midst of battle. And that was probably the last time you saw him.

You didn't want to think about the possibility of loss. Because there's no way, right? ...Right? The others were also quick to reassure you plenty of times, sensing your growing unease with each passing day. But it did little to nothing to help ease your nerves. Preoccupied in your own despair, you failed to sense an approaching figure among the shadows.

"'Cher? What are you doing, hiding all the way down here?" A static-like voice called out, causing you to stiffen, "you should be celebrating with the others! You wouldn't want to miss out on such an exciting time!" Eyes widening, you swiftly pivoted yourself to face them. Low and behold, the source of your worries stood before you, all in one piece, smiling down at you with his usual Cheshire-like grin.

"...Alastor?" You weakly called out. Your wavering tone caused the Overlord to raise a brow, mild confusion taking over him. "Yes, my dear?" He asks with a tilt of his head. But it wasn't until he took a closer look at your distressed features that his expression softened a faction. "Darling, you're upset...why are you crying?"

Despite your immense relief, you couldn't help but send him a baffled look. "Wha-Why am I crying? Are you serious, Al?" You spat back incredulously. "You've been gone for two days! Two days! And I didn't know where or-or how you were! Can’t you even imagine how I must've felt when I couldn't find you after the fight?” Alastor only blinked at your sudden outburst. “And you don't even think to tell any of us where you've gone off to! I thought...I-I thought..." Your voice died down as a sob threatened to leave your throat. "I-I thought you were gone."

"Oh, dear, don't be silly," Alastor softly chuckles, fixing his monocle, "it'll take more than those pesky, little angels to get rid of me!" His lanky legs strided towards you, his head shaking in mild amusement. He stops just before you, leaning forward to pat your head reassuringly. Sniffling, you couldn’t help but wrap your arms around his waist, burying your head into his chest. It gave you the reassurance you wanted and needed – it was proof that he was here with you, physically. However, the action unexpectedly causes Alastor to stiffen. You furrow your brows, lifting your head to send him a questioning look.

"...Al? Are you okay?" You worriedly ask, slowly unwrapping yourself to inspect him. Usually, Alastor didn't mind whether you initiated physical contact and vice versa, especially considering that you had been together for a while now. You then glanced behind him and your surroundings in caution – there didn't seem to be anyone watching either, knowing that he wasn't as fond of PDA. 

As you pan your eyes towards his face, you were surprised to see a tensed expression. "N-Nothing to worry about, darling," he says through a forced smile, waving his hand dismissively before sharply pivoting himself the other direction. "Now, shall we go join the others now? They're probably wondering where we've both gone!" Nonchalant, he begins walking off with his hands crossed behind his back. That was...strange. Something was clearly wrong, you think to yourself.

"Al, wait!" You jog towards him, passing and stopping him in his tracks. "Is...is there something wrong?" You worriedly ask. "I just...I feel like you're not telling me something. I-If I made you uncomfortable, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to–"

You felt your words die in your throat as a noticeably large, wet patch began to form against his dress shirt. You let out a startled gasp. "Wha–you're‐you're bleeding!" You cry in panic, hands raising and twitching in front of you with uncertainty. His expression darkening, Alastor stubbornly shook his head, gently pushing you aside by the shoulder, "Like I said, it's nothing to worry about. It's not but a small scratch! I'll be fine, dear–"

"No, you're not fine!" You interjected, eyes blurring in tears and wavering. Your hands shook as you gawked at the growing stain on his shirt. At that, you didn't miss the way Alastor's lips twitched in presumed pain, as small beads of sweat began to form on his forehead. Gritting your teeth, you reach out to grab his wrist, preparing to pull him towards the hotel's entrance. "Come on, Al. W-We need to get you cleaned up–" A firm squeeze in your hand stopped you in your tracks as you turned back to face him, distressed.

"[Name]. I said I'll be fine," he sternly says, his voice contorting in static. Despite the sinister grin he displayed, it left you unfazed. You pinched your brows and balled your fists in frustration, staring at him in disbelief. "...What the hell is wrong with you?" You hiss at the deer-demon, "You're clearly not fine–you wouldn't be fucking bleeding right now if you were fine!"

Alastor clicked his tongue, "Darling, you're exaggerating too much, don’t you think? You don't need to fret—"

"Shut up! I-I don't give a damn who you think you are! Strong Overlord or not, I'm worried, okay?! I-I'll always be worried about you!" Angry tears began pouring from your eyes. "I was scared for my life when I didn't hear from you the past few days! I didn't know what happened to you–if you were okay or even alive! I-I couldn't even get a single blink of sleep last night, so don't fucking tell me to not worry!" Alastor's egotistical and prideful personality was not news to you and everyone else – you knew how stubborn he could be, and now was no exception. It was absolutely infuriating.

Alastor's grim expression eased at your growing distress, his stomach twisting uncomfortably as he watched you messily wipe your face. You took a brief moment to compose yourself, your breaths shaky and uneven. "Look, just–I don't want to argue right now, okay?" You hiccup, "i-if you don't want the other's seeing you like this, just...I-I don't know, teleport us inside the hotel somewhere. Just anything, so I can stitch you up properly."

Begrudgingly, Alastor manifested his microphone from thin air. He didn't have any room to argue with you here. He then softly taps the ground with the bottom of the stand twice, casting a group of black shadows from the ground. They surrounded you both in a circular-like motion, completely filling your sights with a black void. There was a brief gust of wind and it didn't take long until they dissipated, the both of you now standing in what was assumed to be your new shared room in the hotel – it was nearly identical to your previous one before the reconstruction, save for the new wallpaper.  

"Remove your shirt. I'll get the kit," you immediately order as you point at the bed, gesturing for him to sit. You then disappear into the bathroom for a brief moment, grabbing the small first-aid kit under the sink before returning to the bedroom. Alastor had already sat himself down the edge of the bed, his dirty button-up and coat neatly folded on the floor, and his chest bare. You grimaced as you eyed the massive, fresh gash across his scarred chest, that was somewhat tended to with poor stitching.

You let out a disapproving sigh. "I expected your patching to be a little better than this,” you comment as you set the kit beside him, taking out some gauze and alcohol. Alastor rolls his eyes. "It's not everyday you get struck by an angelic weapon, dear," he shoots back sarcastically. There was a small stagger in your movement, your jaw clenching as a deep frown settled on your lips. So it was because of Adam that he's in this state, you sourly think. You try to not let the thought affect you too much as you begin disinfecting his wound.

While you were fixing him up, the both of you remained in complete silence. You actively chose to ignore his piercing gaze in the meantime, which practically burned through your skull as you maintained your focus solely on his wound. Your earlier frustrations didn't seem to simmer down either, deciding to keep quiet to prevent another one-sided shouting battle. As much as you loved Alastor, his lack of understanding towards your concerns vexed you to no end. Because, hypothetically speaking, what if he had actually died during his fight against Adam? If his body went missing, you were never going to find the closure you needed and were probably gonna go on with your life not knowing of his whereabouts. Your life would've been completely miserable with the constant grieving. And like Alastor smartly said, it wasn’t everyday that he’d be fighting a divine opponent, so definitive defeat wouldn’t be completely off of the table despite being quite powerful himself. 

The mere thought brought fresh tears to your eyes, which you were quick to blink away. ‘No…there’s no point dwelling in the past and what-if’s,’ you reprimand yourself. Alastor’s here, after all. That's the only thing that matters right now. But regardless, you still remained upset.

After a while and now satisfied with your craft, you neatly applied a bandage around his chest and waist. "...Don't put too much pressure on it for a while," you quietly advised as you began packing the equipment away. You continued to ignore his gaze, knowing that you'd lose your composure if you were to look at him. Without sparing him a glance, you lazily chucked the kit by the bedside table and made your way towards the door. Shortly after, you left the room without another word.

You found yourself aimlessly walking on the balcony facing the bar, near the main entrance. There, you saw Charlie walking up the stairs adjacent from you, who was quick to catch your approaching form. "[Name], there you are! I was just looking for you!" She cheerily says, skipping towards you with excited steps. "Everything looks so, so amazing, can you believe it?! Oh, oh! We all saw Alastor, by the way! I told you he was going to be fine–erm, [Name]?" The Princess forced her banter to a halt upon spotting your swollen, red eyes.

"Hey, hey, what happened?" She softly asks, coming forth to rub your back. You open your mouth to speak but consciously stop to think your answer through. You knew not to speak a word of Alastor’s state at the moment, knowing it would desecrate his persona. So you decide to keep it short and vague. 

"Alastor and I...we, uhm…had a small fight," you briefly explain with a tight-lipped smile. Charlie’s eyes softened in understanding. “Oh, I’m sorry. Did...do you wanna talk about it?” She kindly offers, holding your hand. You shake your head, “It’s alright, Princess. I’ll be okay in due time.” You didn’t want to dampen the overall mood and atmosphere, after all the hard work and sweat shed for this very moment. “Well, I mean, if you’re sure…” she hesitantly replies, giving you another quick look-over. “Say, how about we get you cleaned up a little and we head down and join the others? It’ll help clear your mind a little bit, yeah?”  

Bless her heart, you think with a small smile. With a nod, Charlie dragged you to the nearby restroom, where you splashed your face with water and did minor touch-ups to look somewhat decent. Shortly after, you joined the others by the main lounge, who all cheered and welcomed you with open arms. All the while, your mind automatically wandered to Alastor, who you knew was dwelling somewhere within the hotel. 

After a couple hours of celebration, you all decided to retire for the night, exhausted from the day's work. Charlie had sent you off with a small hug, wishing you luck as you slowly made your way back to your room. You felt your heart thump loudly against your ears as you spotted your room number in the distance, which only intensified as you reached for the knob and opened the door.

With a deep breath, you entered the room and to your surprise, you found Alastor where you had left him. However this time, he was already in his night-wear and was comfortably sitting upright and against the bed frame, legs under the covers and reading some book. He made no effort to acknowledge your presence as he hummed a random, sweet tune, licking a finger to flick a page of the novel he was supposedly engrossed in. You didn't know what would've irked you more – the fact that he wasn't addressing you right now or alternatively, if he were to go on about his day in his usual chirpy-self, and not bring up what had happened. Reciprocating his behaviour, you wordlessly went to the bathroom to do your usual night routine and changed into a comfortable set of pyjamas. When you were done, you beelined towards your side of the bed, stiffly slipping under the covers with your back facing him and pulling the covers close to your face. 

The tension was dripping as the room filled with an uncomfortable silence. You unconsciously found yourself pacing your own breaths, as if you were worried that you were breathing a sound wave too loud. You also didn't move a single inch from your spot, remaining stagnant like a statue. It remained that way for a short while, unable to find a single blink of sleep or tiredness, just as you did the past couple days.

“Darling, I know you’re awake…” Alastor says, finally breaking the silence as he shuts his book with a soft thud, placing it by the bedside table. There was a brief pause, as if he was waiting for you to say something, but you didn’t. You listen intently in silent anticipation as you dug yourself further into your pillow.

“I…I wanted to apologise for my behaviour earlier. It wasn’t in my intentions to upset you,” he continues, “I didn’t mean to carelessly dismiss your concerns the way I did. I understand that you’re merely worried for me. After all, if had it been you in my place instead, I would’ve acted the same way, if not more. And I’m sorry for troubling you these past few days. It was due to my carelessness that made you disregard your own health and caused you so much distress. With that, I want to express my utmost gratitude to you for looking after me despite it all. I…I hope you can forgive me, darling.” 

It was simple and straight to the point. And yet, his words struck a chord with you, causing a new onset of tears to flow and dampen the bed sheets. Alastor wasn’t one to easily admit his faults and apologise the way he did, so his words had so much of an impact on you. Though you had your own few questions to ask him, you suppose that this was enough for the time being as you didn’t want another day to go by, remaining in conflict with each other. You turn yourself to face him, sitting up and tearfully looking up at him. Silent, Alastor looked back down at you in a hopeful manner, his usual grin on his face. “O-Of course, I forgive you,” you quietly replied as you carefully hugged his side, “I-I just…I want you to look after yourself better. I-I don’t know what I’m going to do with myself if I had lost you then.” 

Huffing in relief, he softly snickers into your hair, running one of his claws through its strands. “Like I said, you won’t lose me, my dear. I’ll even wreak havoc across all of Hell to get back to you,” he cheesily coos as he nuzzles his nose into your neck. You wetly chuckle at his remark, leaning into him closer. “That’s quite a huge commitment to make, Al. You promise you gonna keep your word for it?” you jokingly reply, playfully poking at his chest. Grin widening, Alastor boops your nose with a single digit, “that’s a guarantee, darling.” 

[vantediary]

wake up pt. I - p.sh

Pairing: idol!Seonghwa x gn!reader

Warnings: smut, Dom Seonghwa but here he switches and begs🤭, oral (m receiving), edging, begging.

Summary: you want to support your boyfriend as much as possible, so you are there during the very first concert of the new tour. Seeing that pretty outfit of his, though, makes you want to do some very nasty things instead of letting him change into the next one.

Taglist: @vvvnnn7

Wc: 1.9k

It’s my first scenario here, I hope you like it! 🫣

You loved nothing more than being there to support your boyfriend whenever he performed his art in front of an audience. Watching him on stage was truly captivating, and you could hardly take your eyes off him. The way he moved, sang, and connected with his fans was a sight to behold.

But it wasn't just your boyfriend's talent that impressed you. You were also incredibly proud of him and his group mates for everything they had achieved. You knew that their success didn't come easily and that they had faced numerous obstacles along the way. Despite all of this, they persevered and managed to make a name for themselves in the industry.

Being there to witness their hard work pay off was an honor, and you felt privileged to be a part of their journey. You knew that they still had a long way to go, but you did not doubt that they would continue to thrive and succeed in their craft.

You have witnessed every single rehearsal of their dance routines, and you can confidently affirm that this upcoming tour is going to be their most exceptional performance yet. The level of dedication, precision, and passion that they have poured into their preparations is truly remarkable.

You seemed to have missed noticing one thing about the event - the outfits. As you walked backstage again, you were taken aback by the sight of your boyfriend, who was wearing an outfit that left very little to the imagination. The garment was barely covering his sculpted, muscular body, and it came as a surprise to you.

As he moved, every muscle in his body seemed to come to life, accentuated by the graceful lines of his limbs. Watching him dance was an ethereal experience as if he were not entirely of this world. His expressions were captivating, conveying a range of emotions with each movement of his body. His dance moves were intricate and precise, executed with fluidity and ease. It was clear that he was trying to communicate something through his dance as if his body were a language all its own. Each moment was a new revelation, a glimpse into the soul of a truly talented performer.

He knew well how this outfit would have affected you, and he took advantage of it. As he took the tie between his teeth and smirked, you could see the satisfaction in his eyes, knowing that he had succeeded in conveying his message through his performance.

As the show finally reaches its intermission, you feel relieved that everything has gone so smoothly. You glance over at him, the star of the show, and can't help but feel a little nervous excitement. You know that it's finally time for him to come backstage and change, and since the next skit will be done by the other members, you plan on spending a lot of time with him. The thought of being alone with him backstage makes your heart race and your palms sweat, but you try to keep calm and collected.

As the concert comes to an end you see the members making their way down the stairs toward their respective changing rooms. You notice that your boyfriend is the last one to leave the stage. His eyes lock with yours and he breaks into a sly grin as he makes his way towards you.

"Sweetheart, did you like the performance?" he asks, as he reaches for your hand. "It was a surprise for you too. I never told you that there would have been a choreography for 'Wake Up', or even that it would be in the setlist of the tour!"

You can't help but stare at him in awe, the energy of the concert radiating from him. Your eyes fall on his perfect body, finding yourself noticing the drops of sweat falling through the lines of his abs on full display; you’re aware you’ve been staring at them for quite a while, but you can't really help yourself.

Finally, you’re able to move your gaze up, studying every curve of his chest moving to get enough air in his lungs after so much effort dancing, his perfect neck, his Adam’s apple moving up and down when he gulps, his sharp jaw and plump lips that you would immediately kiss if only there weren't so many staff members around you right now, then finally his big, intense eyes studying your expression. He’s a Greek God, you’re sure about that.

“Do you like what you see baby?” Feeling his lips against your ear makes you shiver, and you immediately move your body even closer to his. “Please Seonghwa…” your voice shakes, letting him know just what you wanted.

He grabs your hand and brings you to his changing room, immediately locking it behind you. “I knew it… I knew it would affect you this much,” he strokes your cheek smiling in contentment.

Something switches in you noticing the satisfaction he was feeling knowing his plan worked perfectly and you push him towards the nearest surface you can find making him gasp. “Oh yeah? Are you satisfied now? I was here going insane because of you and you enjoy that?”

“Of course baby girl, I’m enjoying it more than you could think,” he smirks, looking down at you as you're already getting on your knees. “I mean, I didn't know it would affect you this much, but I'm pretty pleased to know I have this effect on you. What is it that you want to do, hm?”

“Approximately how much time do we have until you need to change and go back on stage?” “A bit more than 5 minutes baby,” you nod satisfied. “That is enough time for what I have in mind, considering how hard you already are.”

He looks at you with a mixture of embarrassment and need making you smirk. You take whatever name that piece of clothing has that covers nothing of his body and immediately latch your lips on his skin proceeding to create a path of wet kisses along his torso.

He lets out small moans while caressing your hair, letting you know how much he enjoys this. You reach for his pants, stopping right above them, and pull them down along his underwear to reveal his erection. You concentrate your kisses all over his crotch making him whine. “Baby c’mon… don't keep me waiting.”

You smirk once again, teasing his now red and sticky tip by sucking it tenderly and releasing it from your mouth almost immediately. “Only if you beg me Seonghwa,” you flatten your tongue to lick the base of his length.

He lets out a loud and long cry arching his back, “Okay, okay… please sweetheart, please suck me off. I’m begging you.” his voice is much higher-pitched than earlier, but this is still not enough for you.

“I want the staff members and the guys to hear you loud and clear, Seonghwa!” You wrap your lips around his tip loosely not even sucking. “Y/n, please! Don't do this to me!” you shake your head again, looking at him with my doe eyes repeating the same motion on his dick.

“I need you so bad…” he is visibly out of breath. “I need you to make me cum deep down your throat, please baby, please!” He grabs your hair into a tight fist, and finally satisfied you take his dick in your mouth bobbing your head up and down.

“Oh my God, yes! Yes yes yes baby, keep doing that!” He can't help but let his head fall back from the pleasure, realizing just how much the thought of affecting you with the outfit and choreography also affected him in return because of how much he thought about you like this, making him more sensitive to any touch.

He was soon close to his release, you could sense that by the way his dick twitched in your mouth and the way his legs trembled, adding to his voice getting impossibly louder. He even started rocking his hips forward, praising you for the great job you were doing and that is the exact moment you remember about the tie.

You make a sudden stop, releasing his dick with a loud pop, the loss of touch and his orgasm denial made Seonghwa lose balance and almost fall forward onto you. You clean up the corners of your mouth and the tears that were swelled up in your eyes satisfied. It was your time to enjoy his sufferings now.

“Give me your tie Seonghwa,” you opened your palm waiting. He was so lost and sensitive that he couldn't even understand your question or reply to you in any way, letting out small whimpers while his legs still trembled slightly.

“Seonghwa, I asked you a question,” you tell him with a big smirk. “B-baby… I-I,” you can see his eyes tearing up.

“Don't you want to cum? Give me your tie now!” He nodded, reaching for it with trembling hands, and as soon as he gives it to you, you wrap it around his head using it as a blindfold just like he did in the choreography. “Much, much better like this.”

“P-Please baby… I am so sorry… please make me cum! I need your mouth on me again, c’mon,” you stare at the precum oozing in his tip and falling along his length with a sense of hunger enveloping you.

“We don't have a lot of time Y/n, please!!” he tried to reach into your hair to pull you on him again and you immediately complied knowing he was right.

You push his dick deeper into your mouth deep-throating him. It went on like that, him not being able to see you and you know how much he hated that. The sight of you full of his cock, mascara mixed with tears running down your face and saliva collecting all around your mouth and chin as you gagged repeatedly taking him as deep as you could.

You loved this sensation of fullness, and mostly you loved the sounds he made, he was too lost to care about the blindfold and all the rest. Even when some staff members shyly knocked on the door knowing pretty well what was happening inside but still tried to let the both of you know it was getting late and Seonghwa needed to be changed, you moved even faster and he made the loudest moan ever come out of his pretty plump lips finally releasing all his seed down your throat.

You got up cleaning him and yourself up as he kept panting. “Come on Seonghwa, they are here to change you,” you kissed him tenderly. He grabbed your hand to pull you back to him and with the other he grabbed your jaw in his other.

“You’re gonna pay for that later, you dirty little slut of mine. I can assure you that,” he said against your lips with greeted teeth. With that you knew that he was simply playing along, acting all submissive. You did notice it since he usually doesn't act like that, but you simply thought he was needy and he was well aware it needed to take you as little time as possible, so complaining didn't help at all.

Instead, he allowed you to satisfy yourself with the idea of him possibly being submissive, but it was all a plan. It was a plan all along, from the outfit to the choreography and to everything else that happened after.

One thing was for you to enjoy for sure, and it's the fact he came back on stage more sweaty than before, and with that pretty fucked out expression of his. At least, you could credit yourself for that which is something that the fans are liking, not knowing who the cause of that is.

I can't wait for what's to come, Park Seonghwa…

Thank you so much for reading! If you liked it, please reblog and interact with it! I will make a part two!

[imababblekat]

Vicarious Happiness

Anon Request, “Hi!! I love your work so much and I hope your doing wellI have a request if thats cool, it's fluffy raphael x reader(she/her) and it's like raph being all soft for once and letting his gard down and laughing and his brothers seeing this and they get all sappy”

~xXx~

It was the sounds of loud, hardy laughter that drew Leo from his once peaceful meditation. He knew that laugh and felt a familiar agitation itch at his mind, wondering what prank Raphael had pulled on Mikey this time. However, when he stepped out into the main living portion of the lair, he was quickly surprised to find the red banned turtle to not be cackling at his youngest brothers peril, but instead joyfully laughing along with you. While his laughter was louder and much deeper, no one could miss the cherry colored blush of your face as you laughed equally along. The leader of the four brothers made his way over to the kitchen, where he had spotted his two other siblings apparently watching the wholesome scene between Raph and the brothers close friend. “Donnie, you didn’t drop laughing gas again did you?”, Leo questioned with a raised brow and covering his snout. Hazel eyes glared behind self made classes. “I’ll have you know that was Casey’s fault! Also, no, I didn’t. Why do you ask?” Rolling his own eyes, Leo pointed a thumb over to where you and Raph sat close on the couch. “I ask because I’ve never seen Raph like that unless he did something. What’s up with him?” “Can’t you tell?”, Mikey jumped in with a swoon, batting non-existent lashes at Leo, “What’s up with Raph is (y,n)!” Leo scoffed, shoving Mikey out of his personal space as the other wiggled his brows. “Wait, are you guys serious? I know the two are close, but Raph like that? No way!” The two youngest brothers only smirked at each other, Donnie then stepping over to throw an arm around Leo. “Au contraire, my dear brother. Just take a look for yourself.” Leo did, and as he took a moment to really examine the scene before him, it wasn’t long till he caught on just like Mikey and Donnie had. It was the way Raphael looked at you, as you babbled on about something random but dear to yourself. His eyes held a fondness so rarely seen for someone such as him, a softness to his gaze rather than typical annoyance. It was as though he was deaf to your words, instead memorized and taking to memory the way you shined and glowed as you spoke so excitedly. However, Leo was also sure that for you, Raph was also making an effort to remember each and every single one of the words your spoke. Your voice and tone sounding like a melody to the terrapin no doubt. His body language was also a dead give away. Rather than taut or imposingly flexed, Raph sat comfortably with an air of, dare Leo even think it, vulnerability. There was not a sense of guardedness, no such thing as what he gave even around those he considered friends. With an arm slung over the couch and just an inch from being wrapped over your shoulders, an amorous smile and wholesome gaze still on your fast talking self, it was as though in that moment you were Raphael’s entire world. A cheeky grin found its way to Leo’s face. While he was already thinking of ways to tease the broad ninja turtle later, he at the same time couldn’t help but feel a sense of joyfulness for the other. The honorary leader had always been of a realistic mindset, had always been one hundred percent certain that they would never get to experience the pleasures of normal people. While a few years younger version of him would have been skeptical and jaded of this situation, the current more mature him felt nothing but elation. He’d always expected out of any of them for Mikey to somehow end up with a human partner if anything, but seeing Raphael of all people, soft and full of passion, it truly made him happy for the brother he’d so often fight with. Glancing over to Donnie and Mikey, the fondness they each shared while also watching the deepening bond shared between you and Raphael, he had a feeling they felt the same.

~xXx~

[rileyslibrary]

I love your sense of humour and have cracked up at your stories multible times. Maby you can find some inspiration in this:

Price ordering the team to an etiquette training so they know how to behave in case they have to go under cover in a more "fancy" environment (or the upcoming mission may require something like this). I'm thinking about Ghosts "sausage fingers" from the origami bit on a delicate litte cake fork... Or him needing to *converse* with someone.

I think putting these hard soldiers in a situation that's out of their comfort zone is always a fun read!

Thank you for letting us enjoy your fantastic writing! <3

Be gentle, man!

Relationship: TF141 x F!Reader with a potential Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader (platonic?) on the horizon. Also there’s an OC in the story.

Word Count: 1,598 (approx. 7-8 min reading time)

Notes: I began writing this last night as a joke, and couldn’t stop. Thank you SO MUCH for inspiring me to do this, anon. It’s a crackfic btw. (There’s a part 2 now here)

———————————————————————

The training room feels out of place compared to its usual purpose. Bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, the once-busy gym has been transformed into a classroom for an unlikely lesson—manners, of all things. Table manners, to be precise.

“Talk about Fitness Vs. Finesse,” Soap whispers, and you playfully nudge his side. The comment reaches Gaz’s ears, and he lets out a chuckle. Yet, Price’s death stare reclaims your attention and brings you back to focus.

You all sit around a long, polished mahogany table atop the gym’s boxing ring, admiring the delicate china and crystal glassware set before you. It reminds you of Aunt Claire’s preserved collection, which rarely leaves its cabinet. Lady Theodora, your etiquette instructor, assures you that each piece serves a purpose, and you will put them all to use. Every. Single. One of them.

Lady Theodora, the epitome of timeless confidence, moves gracefully around the table. Her silver hair is slicked back, framing a face that exudes years of wisdom and experience. Her Bordeaux-coloured shawl billows behind her as she glides, catching the gentle breeze her steps create. She pauses behind Price’s chair and reveals the reason behind today’s masterclass: an undercover operation.

“In the world of espionage, where appearances can mean the difference between life and death,” she says in a soft voice, “the art of etiquette becomes a weapon, a shield, and,” she concludes, resting her hand on Price’s shoulder, “your ticket to survival.”

“Bollocks.”

All eyes are drawn to the far end of the table, where a shadowy figure prefers to go unnoticed but isn’t afraid to express doubts. The only visible sign of life is a hand fidgeting with the butterknife.

“I beg your pardon, Lieutenant.” Lady Theodora says, and Ghost leans forward, revealing his unmasked—and visibly annoyed—face.

“We’re soldiers, not knights,” he claims. “Teaching us how to use all these,” he says, motioning to the various utensils before him, “is a waste of time, both yours and mine.”

Lady Theodora regards him gently as if looking at a child throwing a tantrum. She smiles and walks behind him, gripping the back of his chair.

“You seem quite certain of your own competence and doubtful of mine, Mr Riley,” she says, amused.

Ghost tilts his head to the side, partially facing her.

“With all due respect, Lady Theodora,” he replies, “I don’t believe you fully comprehend how such missions operate.”

Lady Theodora lets a light chuckle as she moves closer to Ghost’s face.

“My record of 25 confirmed kills, three of which were accomplished with a butterknife like the one in your hand, might suggest otherwise,” she admits. “Now, would you kindly move your seat forward, Lieutenant? I’ll show you how to act like a proper gentleman.”

Ghost’s Adam’s apple bobbles as he swallows hard. He returns the butterknife to its original position and pushes his chair forward with Lady Theodora’s help.

Gaz clears his throat and looks at Soap.

“Imagine her dinner parties,” he whispers so Price doesn’t hear him, “they must be perfectly executed.”

“Bet she makes a killer soufflé,” Soap whispers back.

You look at them and mutter, “You two are beyond help.” Unfortunately, it’s your own comment that catches Price’s attention this time, and he gives you a stern warning to behave.

“Let’s get started,” Lady Theodora says. “Projecting confidence and grace requires proper posture: sit up straight, shoulders back, and imagine a string pulling you upward from the crown of your head.”

You all adjust your posture, attempting to imitate Lady Theodora. Ghost used to a more relaxed posture, finds it difficult to maintain the required formality. His broad shoulders hunch forward, and he struggles to keep his legs straight.

“Excellent,” Lady Theodora remarks, catching Ghost’s struggle but choosing not to comment further. “Next, we shall delve into the art of dining. Each utensil on the table has a specific purpose, and it is essential to use them correctly.”

She points to the array of utensils laid out before you. Multiple forks, knives, and spoons of various sizes and shapes make the sight overwhelming.

“The outermost utensils are for the earlier courses, while the inner ones are for the later ones.” Lady Theodora says, “It’s like unwrapping a gift, one course at a time.”

You all nod and place the napkin on your lap to begin the process.

Ghost’s ingrained military habits take over when food is served, causing him to devour it quickly. He shovels forkfuls of food into his mouth without looking up and barely pausing to chew.

“Mr Riley,” Lady Theodora addresses Ghost, who shoots his head up to look at her. “I understand the military inclination to eat fast, but we must remember that the food isn’t going anywhere. Take your time, savour each bite, and enjoy your meal, please.”

“Sorry ’bout that.” Ghost mumbles with his mouth full.

Lady Theodora raises an eyebrow. “Mr Riley, it is impolite to speak with your mouth full,” she reminds him. “Please, swallow your food before continuing.”

Ghost swallows and clears his throat. “Apologies, Lady Theodora,” he mutters.

Lady Theodora smiles and nods at Ghost’s response. “Very well, Lieutenant Riley,” she says. “Remember, dining is about more than just the food; it’s also about the company and the experience.”

As the training continues, you witness Soap’s attempts to initiate a proper conversation, only to subconsciously bring up military strategies. Gaz, on the other hand, struggles with small talk and, when asked about his hobbies, blurts out his love of explosions.

“Kerosene is one hell of a—”

“No kerosene talk on the table, Sergeant,” Lady Theodora interrupts. “How about we talk about something more appropriate, like, for example, what did you do today?”

“You’re not going to like it.” He replies.

“Did it involve kerosene?” She asks and receives multiple excited nods from Gaz.

Ghost forgets about his napkin while using the finger bowl and instinctively flicks his hands to dry them. Droplets of water scatter across the table, and Lady Theodora steps forward with a calm smile. She retrieves his napkin and hands it to him. “Remember, Lieutenant,” she whispers, “the napkin is your ally.”

Throughout this ordeal, Price seems to be the only one who already has a natural fluidity in his movements. Like he already knows about etiquette.

You compliment his impeccable manners, but Lady Theodora intervenes before Price can respond.

“Oh, that’s because the Captain already received my services a few years ago,” she reveals, winking.

Price, caught off guard, coughs and sputters, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. After regaining his composure, he clears his throat and grins.

“Yes, well, Lady Theodora’s guidance has been, um, invaluable,” he manages to say and lowers his gaze to his plate. Gaz raises an eyebrow, and Soap gives a sly smile.

With the etiquette training completed, Price gracefully positions his utensils on his plate and folds his napkin. Lady Theodora hands him a file stack, which he distributes to you.

“These files contain detailed background information for your assigned roles,” he explains. “Study them carefully; familiarise yourselves with the personas you will embody, and don’t worry; with Lady Theodora’s help, you’ll have plenty of time to learn how to carry yourselves.”

He watches you all as you take hold of your respective files, scanning the pages and absorbing the details that will shape your performances.

“Gaz, within those pages, you’ll uncover the roadmap to shape your tech persona, along with essential contacts and valuable industry insights,” Price declares.

“A startup entrepreneur,” Gaz mutters and nods, “nice.”

“Soap,” Price continues, “your file contains the lineage and history of an alleged oil tycoon family; you’ll assume the identity of their sole son and heir to the business.”

“Why do I get the oil-moneyed spoiled brat?” Soap protests, “Gaz is the one obsessed with fossil fuel!”

Price looks at Lady Theodora, silently begging her to take the lead.

“Focus on embodying the demeanour of an heir, Sergeant MacTavish,” she comforts Soap. “Acquiring in-depth knowledge of the business is not a top priority now.”

Finally, Price shifts his focus to you and Ghost. His voice softens, and a smile appears on his lips.

“As for the two of you,” he says, “your assignment requires a convincing portrayal of a couple.”

You and Ghost exchange a brief look before returning your focus to the files in your hands.

“Laswell will provide you with a forged marriage certificate and photos of your alleged relationship,” Price continues. “The documents will serve as tangible proof if the need to validate your connection arises.”

“Any chance to let us know who or what we’re after?” Gaz asks, and Price shakes his head.

“Baby steps, Sergeant; we’re waiting for Laswell to give us more intel,” he explains, “but as far as we know, we’re dealing with people who can buy their way out of some very sketchy shit.”

“Language, Captain.” Lady Theodora reminds him.

“Please accept my sincere apologies, Theodora,” he says and turns to Gaz. “I meant sketchy things, Sergeant.”

As they continue discussing the mission, your mind wanders on the latest information. Ghost’s partner? How? You look at the file and then back at Ghost. You see Lady Theodora walking behind Ghost’s chair and leaning close to his ear. She looks at you and whispers to him.

“I told you, Lieutenant,” she says, “I’ll mould you into a proper gentleman.”

Ghost turns to face you as well. “I’m afraid that’s impossible, Lady Theodora,” he replies.

But Lady Theodora smiles and touches his shoulder, “Oh, you’ll see, Mr Riley—you’re my gift to unwrap, one course at a time.”

———————————————————————

Part 2 ->

[omegapropaganda]

🎉1k Kudos🎉

Y'all! I cannot believe this! Burnt Honey has over a thousand kudos! To celebrate there's a sneak peak below the cut of some light smut from Chapter 10! (like always with the sneak peaks there is a chance of things changing as I finish the chapter since this is still very much a work in progress)

I cannot express enough how much I appreciate every single one of y'all and the response to this story 🥲 And I'm super thankful that y'all have been so patient while I focus on all my personal life things happening. I hope that within the next few weeks I'll be back home and fingers crossed have time to work on finishing this chapter ♡

“Seillean,” Soap’s voice was sweet and soft as he spoke into your ear. “Can Ah have a kiss?” 

It was a bit of a stretch to angle your head just right to catch Soap’s lips, but it was totally worth it. The kiss was a little rough, his chapped lips scraping slightly over your sensitive skin, but you didn’t mind. He tasted just as good as he smelled and you wondered why it had taken you so long to kiss the beta.

You let Soap dominate the kiss, content to simply exist in this space of want and acceptance created by your pack. You sent up a quick prayer of thanks to whatever power was in control of your life for putting you in the path of these two men.

Without them there’s no telling where you would be. You never would’ve been able to stand up to Graves without their support. The thought made your eyes sting with unshed tears and your omega was scratching at the surface wanting to take comfort in its pack. You let it out without a second thought.

In an instant it was met again by the alpha and the beta, joining together with playful joy.

Your neck was starting to ache at the odd angle you were holding to continue kissing Soap, and the novelty of Ghost’s lazy licks against your armpit had worn off. You wanted more, and you wanted it now.

You pushed at the top of Ghost’s head, trying to get him to move, but all you got was a warning growl from the alpha.

“Bad dog!” Soap growled back as he flicked a finger hard into the part of Ghost’s forehead that he could reach.

Ghost reared back as fast as lightning, his eyes still unfocused and dazed, drunk on the taste of you, before blinking it away. A deep blush covered his cheeks as he looked at you sheepishly from under his lashes. “Sorry, luv. Are ya okay?”

“Yeah, I was just starting to get a crick in my neck.”

Relief filled his scent and settled over you like a blanket, before his expression turned a little more on the mischievous side. “Want me t’ kiss it better?”

Soap let out a loud laugh, before pushing you up towards Ghost. “Go on. The man’s insatiable. Ah cannae blame him, want tae taste you forever, but me Gran always said it’s rude not tae share.” 

Now Ghost brought your back to his chest, and his mouth got to work tasting the slightly swollen scent gland at the side of your neck. This time he wasn’t as gentle, the power of your scent here driving his alpha over the edge. He was careful not to use his teeth, but his sucking kisses were no doubt leaving bruises that would take days to heal. 

Your beasts hadn’t stopped their play the whole time, tails wagging and chasing each other around your mind's eye, but getting rougher each time the beta or alpha caught your omega. Soon they would devolve into nothing more than yips and snarls, all claws and teeth, fighting to gain power over you.

Your eyes settled on Soap as he licked his fingers before bringing them to his core. Two fingers on each side of the flushed nub of his cock as his thumb started up a slow tempo up and down.

“See what you do to him?” Ghost said as he finally let up on the sucking kisses he was leaving on your scent gland. His eyes zeroed in on the way you licked your lips as you stared at Soap’s wet core. “Ya want t’ suck ‘is cock, Vicious?”

“Yeah,” you panted, not taking your eyes off Soap.

“Ya have t’ make ‘im beg for it. Our Johnny’s so pretty when ‘e begs.”

“Ghost, come oan, dinnae make me beg!” Soap whined, but he never let up the light friction of his thumb on his cock. 

“See, ‘e already started and ya haven’t even done anythin’ yet.”

You looked between the two men for reassurance and scented the air to check for any thing out of the unusual in Soap’s scent, but all you found was a cloud heavy with want. 

“Please, Cinder.” Soap whispered, voice deep and needy, giving you a taste of what kind of sounds you could pull from the other man. That thought alone sent a shiver down your spine and had your leaking cock throbbing.

[anika-ann]

Hiiii 💕

Made-up fic title: “A different kind of high”

(Yes it’s from a song lol have fun 😂)

Hiiii honey 💕 Oh I had FUN with this, okay. I got carried away so much I don't even want to know the original context of the lyrics 🥹 (or maybe I do, for the fun of it.

ANYWAY. Thank you for sending and thus participating in this game. You too, get a drabble instead of plot. 900 words, allusions to smut and Alpha Ransom 👀 🙈

A Different Kind of High

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, first attempt at a/b/o, implied smut, chase kink, praise kink, hints of soft!dark if you squint very very hard, language

Your heart hammered madly in your chest, its echoes thundering in your temples. Your chest was rising and falling rapidly with every breath you tried to catch, your muscles burning from exertion.

You stood pressed with your back to one of the walls of the study right by the doorframe, door having been swung open, offering you a chance to slip through and hide without making a sound drawing his attention.

His voice carried through the house, making you cover your mouth quickly – suddenly even your breathing sounded too loud, loud enough that it could alert him of your presence here.

You did not want that.

“Come out, come out, little kitten, we’re done playing…” Ransom bargained teasingly, trying to coax you out of your hiding place. “You’re a smart little thing, Omega, but I’m your Alpha… I’ll always find you.”

You swallowed the whimper threatening to spill from deep within your throat at his praise, cursing him to his damnest and yet ready to fall on your knees for him at once, fresh gush of arousal dampening your core. He knew what he was doing. The low dangerous but playful tone sent shivers down your spine, no doubt heightening your scent.

You were a smart little thing; you had rubbed your wrist along your mating gland, sending your scent dispersing in the air, all over the house; you had rubbed the sensitive aromatic skin of your wrist all over pieces of furniture around the mansion, doing your best to overwhelm and confuse your Alpha’s senses, making it impossible for him to tell what was but a trace of your scent and where you actually were… and apparently, you succeeded.

You must have, because he had never chased you for so long. He would have normally found you in third if not fourth of the time. You were getting better; and the longer the chase, the more adrenalin flooded your veins, excitement and anticipation stirring deep within your belly.

The more riled up Ransom got, the more pleasant the outcome was – and that was the goal.

The aftermath of the chase could be oh so pleasant…

The images flooding your mind sent fresh whiff of your arousal to the air, causing you to rub your legs together as silently as possible while still getting the much-needed friction.

Then, you froze.

You heard his footsteps, quick and almost soundless, like one of an apex predator; the predator he was. The alpha.

You could run; and you would. You just needed to time it perfectly to keep up the game.

“Oh Omega… you smell so fuckin’ sweet. I can’t wait to have you begging me to stop eating you out and just finally give you a good ol’ fuckin’…” he drawled out a promise, making you bite your tongue this time.

Not yet, not yet, not—

Now!

You sprang from the wall, using your hands to push away and gain more momentum – but it was a second too late.    

Ransom’s large body pinned you against the opposite wall in a blink of an eye, his ful weight and sheer strength preventing you from moving your feet a single inch.

He was firm and hot and hard against your front, long fingers wrapped around your wrists like handcuffs nailed to the wall next to your head, his nose already running up your throat, causing you to instinctively tip your head back to make space for him, rewarded by a broad lick up your mating glad. Your knees buckled under the onslaught of arousal and bliss combined, your Alpha’s body simply pressing into yours further with a dark delighted chuckle.

“Oh my bratty little Omega… when do you even learn?” he mused, teasing your bond with his teeth, your responding gasp and the damn-near spasm to your core making you jerk your hips only encouraging him to double on his ministrations, your heart a second from beating its way out of your chest. Craving him, craving to feel more, you vainly tried to move your hands so you could touch him, explore his brilliant physique, map every crevice of his taunt muscles with your palms, to breathe in all the nuances of his magnificent scent. You needed to know if he needed you just as much as you needed him, if your little escapade aroused him and drove him at least half as mad.

But he wouldn’t budge, nailing you to the wall unrelentingly.

“Alpha-“

“Oh Omega… you fought good… but when I’m done with you, you’ll never want to run away from me ever again.”

With that playful growl, his lips slanted over yours in a claiming kiss, all remnants of rational thoughts evaporating from your head. Your body slipped fully into an omega mode – to be good, so good for your Alpha, so he would be so good to you in return.

But your last thought was one of rebellion and submission at once; despite what he was saying, you knew you’d run again. You’d have him chase you, because the rush it gave you, the most exquisite kind of high you had never thought you’d experience, was too addictive.

And the outcome?

So. Damn. Worth. It.

Even if it cost you a few pieces of underwear and other pieces of clothing Ransom tore apart to ruin you, even if it left you a soaking panting mess, indeed begging your Alpha for things you had never thought you might imagine, let alone speak – whine, really – out loud.

As Ransom’s long fingers slipped into your panties and ripped the fabric clear, you made more than just peace with your fate and vowed to meet this kind of fate halfway next time as well.

-🥹😇🥹-

My hand... slipped. Oops. This was not the introduction to the a/o/b verse I imagined. Ah, well.

Thank you for reading - and I hope you enjoyed 🥹

Thank you @chase-your-dreams-away for playing 💕

[builtbybrokenbells]

Melodic Memories | Track 4: The Air That I Breathe - The Hollies

In a tattered old box shoved deep down in the corner of an overfilled closet, a lifetimes worth of memories lie dormant at the bottom waiting to be rediscovered.

Masterlist

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!reader

Word Count: 11k

Warnings: SMUT 18+, unprotected sex, (sweet and lazy) morning sex, praise, biting, simultaneous orgasm, cockwarming if you squint, sadness, heartbreak, breakups, fighting, arguing, crying, frustration/anger, miscommunication, high school breakups, unrequited love, estranged parent/strained parental relationships, angst, depression, anxiety, self doubt/self consciousness, swearing, flirting, fluff, angst, mentions of hookups/casual sex, sorry if I miss any!

hi everyone. remember i love you!!! as always, be kind, enjoy, and don’t mind any grammar mistakes! 🤍😌

Also a special shout-out to @gretavangroupie and @gretavanmoon for always keeping me on track, putting up with my craziness, and for the unwavering support and encouragement 🤍 melodic memories wouldn’t be what it is without you 😌

Jake’s POV

“If I could make a wish

I think I’d pass

Can’t think of anything I need

No cigarettes, no sleep, no light, no sound

Nothing to eat, no books to read.”

Rays of sunlight scattered across the room, the flowing curtains sheer and allowing the golden hue to fill the space around you. You were half covered with the sheet, the cool air in the room unable to bother you as you turned on your side. You knew exactly where the comforter had disappeared to, and despite the nagging chill, you felt warmer than ever before. The sweet smell of a million memories danced around your head, laced with orange blossoms and vanilla. As you leaned in closer, jasmine and pear joined the crowd. It was a perfect match, things you’d come in contact with plenty of times in her absence, but not even true plush petals of blossoms on trees nor vanilla beans wore it as well as she did.

Your eyes landed on her, cocooned in the expensive duvet as she slept away the early morning. Her hair was a mess, covering the white cotton pillowcase below her. Her eyes were closed, peacefulness encasing her features as deep breaths moved her shoulders. Her dark eyelashes dusted over the barely-there freckles on her cheeks, casting a small shadow over the bridge of her nose. Her lips, pink and parted ever so slightly, allowing for soft snores to escape made it difficult to sit by and watch the scene, rather than lean forward and kiss her, but you abided by the rules, deciding it was best to admire her than wake her and let the moment pass.

Goosebumps raised on your skin, not because of the coolness of the air conditioning seeping through the woven threads of the sheet, but because waking next to her was an otherworldly experience that you were lucky enough to be a part of yet again. Your mouth was dry, your lungs devoid of air, your veins depleted of the blood that once ran through them, and your heart barely beating in a fruitless endeavor. In the moment, you did not survive off the flesh and bone that carried you to twenty-five, but off of the woman beside you, granting you every desire and wish you’d ever dreamed of.

Waking next to her had been something you longed for since the last morning shared with her, vaguely remembering her sweetness as sleep begged to draw her back in and the tired smile that fought its way onto her perfectly crafted features. She slept so soundly, like trouble had never touched her and pain feared to disturb her. She embodied every single trait of the sun shining in the sky, the light emitting from her even when she was not awake to encourage it.

She was the most precious thing the world had ever created, and she was here with you, trusting you enough to let her guard down and show herself to you in the most vulnerable of ways. Sex was good—great, even. It was intimate, invigorating and fulfilling, and you had dreamed of it a million times, but this was something entirely different. This was the best moment of your day, the highlight of your life as you took the opportunity to admire her when innocence and effortless beauty radiated from her. Sex was great, but waking up to the sight of her beside you was something even greater than that, something you had dreamed of a million and one times in the six years you spent apart.

No matter how much you enjoyed the activities of the night prior, loving her so wholeheartedly for no other reason aside from love itself was always better.

You placed your elbow on the pillow, propping your chin in your hand as you studied her, the constellations of dots decorating her smooth skin, the youthfulness of the girl you loved when you were eighteen and the elegance of the woman you were lucky enough to love now combined all in one. It was a picture you never wanted to lose, one you would spend a lifetime dedicated to remembering in pristine detail, and one that you could survive off alone. You would stave off hunger until it was nonexistent, ignore the thirst until you forgot what it was like to drink water, wither away to nothingness so long as she was there for you to admire. You didn’t need any other entertainment, never wanting to sleep again, never needing to play a guitar or hear the sweet melody of a song again, because she filled you with so much love there was no room left for anything else.

Even if there was, it would pale in comparison to her.

The air flowing in the room, perfectly controlled as it tousled the strands of hair falling over her forehead, could not even disturb her from the slumber she found herself in. It made you wonder if she slept as good as you did, if going to bed while the two of you were apart was as torturous to her as it was for you. Six years of nearly sleepless nights had taken its toll, leaving you exhausted and dreading to fall into bed when the day passed by. Last night, you finally found relief that no aid could match. You tried whiskey, above recommended doses of cold medicine and melatonin, company from another, lesser woman than her, and even Josh’s ridiculous guided meditations, but nothing could cure the nightmare plagued sleep or the relentless tossing and turning.

Nothing until she laid her head on the pillow next to you, her fingers twisting locks of your hair around her finger as her warm breath tickled her neck.

Nothing until you closed your eyes, surrounded by orange blossoms, pears, jasmine, and the faint whisper of vanilla.

Nothing until the warmth of sunshine itself wrapped around you, glowing bright despite the looming moonlight and twinkling stars.

This morning, you awoke with a new lease on life, well rested and with a full heart. The heaviness that constantly weighed down on your shoulders disappeared without a trace, and the storm clouds that forever followed you cleared, allowing for a long awaited taste of blue skies.

You were home again, and Michigan had little to do with the warmth you were experiencing. The woman beside you was many things, but more than anything else, she was the biggest comfort you had ever encountered. She made the world turn with ease, the flowers blossomed as she walked by, and the birds sang a song curated just for her ears. She made all the previous pain worth it, and any bad thing to come obsolete, because when she was loving you, nothing could hurt.

Your breath caught in your throat as her eyes fluttered, her eyelashes tickling her skin as she broke from the blanket tightly wrapped around her. Slowly, her arms stretched above her head, a long breath of air filling her lungs as she prepared to face the world for another day. You wondered how she made it look so easy, how perfection was second nature even when she couldn’t notice it herself. You wondered how everything she did, no matter if it was mundane or grandois, stole the air straight from your lungs and left your head spinning.

Her eyes fully opened, slowly blinking as she tried to pull herself out of her sleepy state. Once she registered where she was, her gaze slowly turned to you, watching silently with a smile on your face. It didn’t take long for her lips to turn upwards, too.

“Good morning, sunshine.” You whispered, giving her ample time to come back to earth before you spoke.

“Good morning, bug.” She said, pushing the blankets away from her face as she turned her head towards you. “Were you watching me sleep?”

“Only for a little while.” You confessed, slightly sheepish about it. “It’s been a long time.”

“It has.” She agreed, reaching forward and letting her fingers graze over your blushing cheeks. “I would have done the same thing. Kinda sad I can’t, honestly.”

“I can pretend to be asleep, if you want?” You grinned. She rolled her eyes, shaking her head at your ridiculous need to please her all of the time.

“Think it’s okay, honey. Would take the charm out of it.” She giggled, her eyes turning down to the flimsy sheet covering your legs and stopping just below your navel. “Sorry I stole the blankets.”

“Are you kidding? Been waiting six years for you to steal the blankets from me again.” You stressed your point, ensuring she understood that this was all you ever thought about.

“You’re cold.” She stated, her fingers trailing down your frigid arm. “Come here.” She said, lifting the blanket for you to join her. You slid over, noticing her turn on her side away from you once the comforter was covering you. You slipped an arm around her waist, turning on your side just the same as her while you pulled her into you.

In an instant, you were surrounded in the familiar perfume still clinging to her skin, the soft strands of her hair tickling your face as you buried your head in her neck. Your hand talked upwards, a natural reaction to holding her in such a way. Your palm landed on her still bare breast, cupping it as her arm settled on top of yours. She pushed herself backwards a little further, her back completely pressed against you and the curve of her ass fitting perfectly against your hips. You placed a kiss to her shoulder blade, your stomach twisted with nerves and your entire body tingling with pleasure just from the simple position.

Holding her was your favorite thing to do, even if you knew it had to end eventually. Although the loss of her was debilitating, the few moments you had her all to yourself made up for the pain it caused when she pulled away. If it were up to you, you would hold her just like this for the rest of your life. If she allowed it, you would never let her go.

“You sleep okay?” You asked, your words muffled from your mouth lingering against her skin.

“Better than ever.” She whispered, without a doubt in her mind about it. “You?”

“Me too.” You hummed, letting your eyes flutter closed as you breathed her in. There was nowhere in the world you’d rather be, the surplus of emotion coursing through you so unlike anything you’d ever felt before.

You fell back into silence, neither of you needing to explain any further because you understood exactly how you both felt. The cloud of sleepiness was still hovering around the two of you, begging to pull you back in. It was tempting, but you fought it with everything in you, knowing you didn’t want to miss a single second of loving her.

Absentmindedly, you let your thumb drift over her nipple, hardened from the cold hair combined with your touch. She shuddered at the feeling, her hips pushing backwards into you as a natural response. The movement sent a flood of adrenaline through you and a sudden rush of blood straight to your dick.

“Careful, sweetheart.” You warned, letting her know the consequences of her actions were imminent. She could feel you resting against her ass, catching on to your intent immediately. Instead of heeding your advice, she arched her back slightly, pressing herself against your length even further. Your fingers tightened on her and your hips moved forward to meet hers, in search of relief already even though she barely did anything at all. “You want more already?” You smiled, relieved to know you weren’t the only one tormented by need.

“Been so long, baby.” She confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. “Been so long since someone could do it right.” She corrected herself, just as eager to make up for all the lost time. You let your fingers trail over her bare stomach, the touch light and tickling her as you advanced toward her hip. You could only imagine she was sore, bruised and still tired from the night prior, so you promised to be gentle with her from your touch alone.

“You know I’ll always give you what you want, angel.” You assured her, knowing that your statement did not even scratch the surface. You would do anything for her, even if it was a hindrance to yourself. You would move heaven and earth to see her smile, you would spend every dollar and every minute of every day in an effort to make her happy. You would do anything, be anything, and give anything for her. You hoped that she knew, that she understood just how important she was and how much you cared about her. You hoped that in a single day, you were able to show her the love you’d sworn to give her when you were fifteen asking her to be your girlfriend in the park, all over again at twenty five.

Slowly, your hand drifted down to her thigh, snaking around to the front of her. Before you could go any further, she reached down and stopped you, turning her head back over her shoulder as she shook her head ‘no’. You raised an eyebrow, wondering what caused her sudden change of heart all whilst you admired the softness and beauty in her still tired eyes.

“I don’t want that. I want you.” She whispered, hoping you understood her meaning. At that, you swallowed hard, feeling your dick throb at the intent of her actions. She was not in search of pleasure from an orgasm, but rather the pleasure of being close to you. She missed it, just as intensely and deeply as you did, the feeling of belonging to each other.

“You have me, sweetness.” You promised her, but abided by her wishes and instead used your hand on her leg to prop it up. You slid down on the mattress a little further, holding her thigh as she steadied it in the new position. “Used to dream of waking up like this every night.” You couldn’t help but feel a smile pull at your lips, almost unable to believe that she was there, beside you and wanting everything you hated yourself for needing all of the time.

“Don’t have to dream anymore, bug.” She breathed, arching her back a little further as you reached between your bodies and lined yourself up with her. You wondered if she thought about it as much as you did, if she craved the feeling of your hands on her skin with such a ferocity that it nearly brought her to her knees. You wanted to ask, to know if she daydreamed about tangled limbs and lazy Sundays in bed together, but a small part of you knew she did, or she wouldn’t have come back.

Your tip was settled over her entrance, already slick with arousal just from the thought of fucking you. Your eyes fluttered closed, your head falling forward as your forehead rested against her shoulder blade. You pulled her down just a little further, letting your hand hold the underside of her thigh so she did not have to exert her energy keeping the limb locked in place. As she moved down, you pushed your hips forward, letting out a hiss of pleasure through your clenched teeth. You pushed forward the rest of the way, hearing her let out a sigh of relief at the feeling as you brushed against the sensitive spot you knew so well.

“You always feel so fucking good, sunshine.” You muttered, taking a moment to rest inside of her. Your heart drummed against your chest, pressed against her back so she could feel the rhythmic beat that depended on her love alone. “Can’t believe you’re all mine.” You followed up your statement, still in disbelief that you had the opportunity to hold her so close again. Still, as you said it, you felt an unfamiliar tug of uncertainty twist your stomach.

Was she yours?

You hadn’t discussed that—in fact, you hadn’t discussed anything. You woke up, still stuck in a cloud of euphoria from life’s turn of events, still living in the fairytale world you had worked together to create. She wasn’t yours in any truthful manner, but rather just the fallacy you had created in your head. The plague of heartbreak continued consuming you, eating away at any bit of sanity that still remained, begging you to air out the unspoken fears that you still had. You couldn’t move forward without addressing what had already happened, which led you to a lazy morning hookup after a successful second first date. You hadn’t addressed the reason for the second first date at all, and if you continued to neglect the fact, it would leave you both at the very beginning again.

Not yet. Not now.

You shoved the feelings down, swallowing them as they got stuck in your throat. They were desperate to be spoken, but you couldn’t allow them to be. You had no idea where they would lead you, and you weren’t risking the end already, not when you just got her back, and not when you were sharing the intimacy with her you’d been craving so badly.

Soon, but certainly not now.

“Fuck, Jake.” She whispered, moving her hips further down in search of what you were holding back. Your name falling from her lips was like summer rain, washing over you with warmth as it relieved you from the irritating burn of the blazing sun. You wanted to hear it again, for her to say it over and over again until she could speak no more and your ears were ringing in the static silence. You never wanted her to stop saying it, never again giving her the chance to speak the name of another.

“This is what you wanted, sweetheart?” You asked, beginning a slow pace with your hips. Your fingers tightened against the flesh of her thigh, a whole new spot to leave a mark on her, ensuring she would remember the moment as the days passed her by.

“Yes, baby.” She breathed, leaning backwards so she was flush against your chest.

Your head fell to the crook of her neck, the sweet scent of her perfume invading your senses as your lips attached to the delicate skin. She was already littered with love bites, her skin sensitive as your tongue traced over her. You didn’t care, and she didn’t either; the state you had left each other in was childish, similar to the way you used to act when you were younger. Even if you would face ridicule at the hands of your careless actions, you were just happy to feel like you were hers again, for others to believe she was yours again.

To feel and to believe, but never in certainty. Even if it was true, you wondered for how long this time.

Although you would promise forever, and you longed to hear it from her too, you did not know. You weren’t even sure if she wanted forever, or if this was a passing moment that would leave you both alone again, with even less closure than before. The idea hurt, and it hurt achingly bad, taking over your entire body with such a devastating effect that it even seemed to overshadow the pleasure that came from being inside of her.

Why did it hurt so bad when everything seemed so good? When perfection was all around you? When the world seemed right for the first time in six years? Why now?

Perhaps it never stopped. The hurt did not go away when she broke the silence, not even when you showed up at her door. It subsided, covered up by the excitement and joy from the reunion, but it was never resolved. You never expected it to come back so soon, when she was still with you, but maybe that was the problem itself.

Being with you and being yours were two entirely different things, and although having her by your side was what you craved, it was not what you wanted. The uncertainty made it hurt worse, just like it did when she was packing up her childhood bedroom with tear stained cheeks and promises of everlasting love. The uncertainty made it worse when you spent those first few days texting, hoping she would change her mind or you would find the courage to speak your truth. Uncertainty was your entire life, never changing her contact name and always hoping that every notification was a ‘hello’ or an ‘I miss you’.

Uncertainty was right now, wrapped up in her and closer than you’d been in a long time, but not knowing what it meant.

But the sounds falling from her lips, strikingly beautiful and oddly haunting made it easy to forget about it, to draw you out of the cloud of doubt and back into the moment with her.

“God, you feel so good, baby.” She said, her head turned back to catch a glimpse of your face. Her eyes were heavy, tiredness still lingering on her features, but it made her all the more beautiful. The intimacy of having her in the state, no guard up and all of the walls broken down, was almost too much for you to bear. Words were failing you, the only thoughts in your head revolving around the same, undying love for her that forever existed in your heart.

You wanted it to last forever, to hold her in your arms until you turned to dust and the wind swept you away. Even then, you would find her again, whether it be in real life or something greater. Every part of you would be tied to her forever, no matter if death tried to get in the way.

“Show me how fucking good it feels.” You growled, your voice low as you held her gaze. Neither of you dared to look away, your arm still holding her quivering leg as you felt her walls flutter around you. She craned her head backwards a little further, just enough to connect her lips with your own.

You met her action, your eyes closing as you focused on all of the sensations at once. The slow, steady pace was almost too much for you. Feeling her all at once, enjoying and appreciating every second of it, all while holding her so close to you was overwhelming in the best possible way. She felt so good, so intoxicating, just like she always had. It was a relief to know that the distance nor the time had any effect on the chemistry existing between you, even if you had both changed so much.

The kiss was sloppy, messy and needy as you tried to hold onto it. The moment was pure bliss, more euphoric than anything else you’d ever experienced. The taste of her on your tongue and the feeling of her wrapped around you was sending you spiraling, still riding the high from the previous night all while getting to experience it all over again. She was more addicting than the sting of a cigarette at the back of your throat, burning stronger in your chest than a shot of whiskey as you swallowed her down, and more thrilling than playing on a stage before thousands.

Perhaps you were so caught up on the unknown because you knew living without her had never been worth it.

She let out a moan into your mouth, letting you drink down the sound as if you were dependent upon it for survival. You slammed your hips forward, a little sharper than before, causing her to repeat the action. You were dependent upon her, not the noises or the pleasure she could grant you. You needed every little bit she could give, and you feared that not even that would suffice. She was everything you’d ever wanted, more than you ever needed, and you were desperate to hear her say that she was yours, not because of a momentary high or a surplus of emotion.

The early morning hours left your willpower greatly depleted, the sleep still weighing heavy on your shoulders and the euphoria you had endured the night before still lingering under your skin. The feeling of her, so close and so intimate, was enough to push you over the edge the minute you felt it. The taste of her on your tongue, the desperation in her movements as she strained to ensure you would not break from the kiss. The scent of her fucking perfume, suffocating you and leaving you happy to die at her hands.

It was all too much. She was too much, and you didn’t deserve a single thing she was offering.

The pleasure was coursing through your veins, depleting your previous life source and creating a new one. Your heart ached from the strength with which it was beating against your chest, your stomach twisted with desire as you held yourself back. She was quickly becoming the only thing you could think about, the only face you could see and the only voice you could hear. As much as you wanted to believe it was a good thing, you felt that same nagging, grating self-doubt as you feared the fallout.

Could you survive her walking away a second time?

The fear was pushed from your mind once again, a rush of pleasure flowing through you more intense than the last. You broke from the kiss, letting out a shaky sigh as you did your best to pull her closer to you.

“Wish I could fuck you like this all day.” You muttered, your fingers digging into the skin on her thigh even further. “Keep you like this for the rest of my life, if I could.” You watched as her hand snaked between her legs, the blankets strewn across the bed and barely covering the two of you now. Her middle finger settled over her clit, tracing circles into the sensitive bundle of nerves as she held your gaze.

“Nothing stopping us, baby.” She replied, her eyes speaking louder than her words ever could. She wanted it, and she was asking you if that’s what you truly wanted, too.

You don’t know why, but your eyes fluttered away from hers, unable to withstand the emotion existing between you.

Of course you wanted it, but it was never that easy. She might want it too, but it didn’t make up for the million things that had been left unsaid. It didn’t make up for the sleepless nights and the tears shed, not the pain you endured or the sadness that still plagued you, even with her beside you.

She was asking if you wanted to love her just like that forever, but you were too much of a coward to say yes. You couldn’t handle the thought of agreeing, to telling her the truth only to have it ripped from your grasp again.

“I love you, sunshine.” You whispered, your lips finding her neck again as you held back everything you wanted to say instead. Your statement was true, you loved her deeply and more dearly than you loved anything else in your entire life, and you always would, but you couldn’t promise her forever if you did not know the tellings of her heart, too.

Enjoy the moment, worry later.

“I love you, Jake.” She whined, desperate for you to kiss her again. In an instant, at the sound of the sweet words, the turmoil disappeared, replaced with a growing sense of pride in your chest to be loved by someone so fantastic.

That was the danger of letting her in; she took the pain away with little effort, and caused a million times more when she inevitably turned and walked away.

“Cum for me, sunshine.” You pleaded, your voice hushed and your words muffled from your lips still pressed against her skin. You were eager for her to reach her climax, and worried that if she did not do so soon, you wouldn’t be able to hold yourself back.

You could feel how close she was, the flutter of her walls around you, pulling you in further. You could hear the desperation in her tone, her moans shaky and breathy, always a clear sign that she was close to the edge. She wanted to, she just needed a little extra encouragement.

“Come on, sweetheart. Being so good for me.” You whispered, your tongue tracing the love bites still littering her skin. She tasted sweet, lingering on your tongue like poison as you succumbed to the sickness of loving her. She continued tracing circles into her clit, pushing herself closer to the edge as she leaned her head back against you for support. You loosened your grip on her thigh, hooking your arm underneath her leg and pulling her back on you as you slammed forward into her.

The laziness in both of your actions was apparent, but it made the moment all the more addicting as you relied on each other to keep up the pace. You let your lips trail down to her shoulder, your teeth gently sinking into the flesh as you applied slight pressure, just enough for her to notice. The sensation sent her spiraling, your name falling from her lips like a hymn, praising you when she was the one who deserved the commendation.

“Fuck, baby.” She whimpered, her body trembling as the pleasure became too much to withstand. With a long slur of curses, you felt her descend into the cloud of euphoria, continuing to sing your name and only ever causing you to fall further for her.

Before the night prior, you did not think it was possible to love her any more than you already did, but she seemed determined to prove you wrong with every passing chance.

“That’s my girl.” You groaned, a pathetic little cry falling from your lips as you felt the same feeling wash over you.

You did not care if the title was fleeting, because there in that moment, she was yours, and you had to appreciate what you had rather than mourn a potential loss in the future.

You pulled her down on you, letting her completely surround you as you spilled your release into her. Her perfume hung like a haze around your head, the ends of her still curled hair tickling your skin and the warmth of her body giving you more comfort than ever before. Together, the two of you rode out the high breathless and happy just to coexist together again.

You wondered, even if this moment must come to pass, why could life not be so beautiful all of the time?

As you relaxed into the mattress, you noticed she did too, searching for the comfort she could only find in your arms. You eased your hold on her leg entirely, gently letting it fall without withdrawing from her. You snaked your arm around her torso, pulling her closer to you as you soaked up the last few minutes of intimacy the scene would allow.

“That’s a great way to start the morning, I think.” She hummed, her eyes closed as she rested her head on the pillow. She wasn’t protesting your prolonged stay in the position, because she was enjoying it just as much as you were.

“The best, actually.” You corrected, dusting a few kisses over her warm skin. It was torture loving her so completely, because no matter if she was yours forever, life would not allow you to hold her like this every minute of every day.

‘Making love with you

Has left me peaceful, warm, and tired

What more could I ask

There’s nothing left to be desired

Peace came upon me and it leaves me weak

So sleep, silent angel

Go to sleep.’

“This feels the same as it did before.” She whispered, her tone low and slow like she was fighting a slumber with all of her energy. She didn’t want to succumb to sleep, terrified of missing out on a single second of your company. “I thought… I thought it would be different, I guess. That because we’re different, it wouldn’t be the same anymore. I was worried that we would wake up and realize it wasn’t real, that we only felt this way because we never had enough closure to move on.” She was strung out from the pleasure, still riding an emotional high as she confessed to her own fears.

“It’s always been real, sunshine.” You assured her, tracing shapes into her skin as you held her. “Always wanted to be with you.” You muttered, slightly ashamed of the undying love you always carried for her. You were tired too, your eyes heavy as the world continued to wake. Sleeping away the day with her by your side was tempting, and you would have fallen victim to the peacefulness of her presence if you were less stubborn.

“I guess there’s just so much… shit we never talked about.” She trailed off, losing her confidence the longer she thought about it. “From back then and now.” She wanted to talk too, wallowing in confusion and self doubt just as heavily as you were and nearly drowning in the sorrow that still surrounded her.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You asked, hoping that she did so you could air out your own relentless thoughts.

“Yeah, I do.” Her tone was near solemn, the sound making your stomach sink and regret begin to form. If she didn’t want the same thing, would you spend the rest of your life regretting asking the damned question?

“Okay.” Your voice was soft as you bargained with the anxiety beginning to take over. Maybe it wouldn’t be bad—maybe she was afraid of all the same things and desperate to hear you assure her otherwise.

“I’m gonna get cleaned up, okay?” She asked, looking back over her shoulder. The breath was knocked from your lungs at the sight of her sleepy eyes and blushed cheeks, making you wonder if you would see it again in the morning, or waste your day trying to forget about it.

“Okay.” You repeated your earlier words, finding that the easiest thing to say when dread was crushing you. Then, she leaned back a little further, pressing a lingering kiss to your lips. Your fingers tightened on her, the action alone prompting a sudden wave of relief that seemed to cure all of your earlier ailments. When she pulled away, the smile turning the corners of your lips helped you to relax, forcing you to believe that the conversation wouldn’t be nearly as bad as you thought it would be.

Carefully, she climbed from the bed and quickly disappeared into the bathroom, leaving you alone with your thoughts for a moment. You rolled onto your back, staring up at the ceiling as your heart continued to speed against your chest. The ghost of her kiss still lingered on your lips, the feeling electrifying as you desperately tried to find some common sense and calm yourself. You reached for your phone on the nightstand beside the bed, tapping the screen to catch a glimpse of the time. It was nearing the afternoon, the entire morning spent in a bubble of love and joy that nothing could penetrate. You didn’t care about the time wasted laying in bed, because when you were beside her, no time felt wasted.

You ignored the plethora of notifications sitting below the time, tossing it back down on the mattress just as the bathroom door creaked open. You shot a smile in her direction as she approached the bed, taking an extra second to admire the entire picture before you. Her cheeks darkened as she realized what you were doing, and instead of taunting her for her embarrassment, you climbed out of bed and landed a gentle smack on her ass as you passed her by. Light, playful, confident. The more normal you made this seem, the more likely she would be to go into the conversation with a clear head and an open mind.

“My turn. Be right back.” You looked back over your shoulder, watching her pull your shirt over her arms from the night prior, buttoning a few buttons to keep it closed.

That was a good sign, right? Wearing your clothes, climbing back into your hotel bed, a smile on her face and joy still shining in her eyes. She wanted to make it work, just like you did. She loved you, still after all this time. It had to be a good sign.

Right?

Her POV

You watched as he walked around the corner, holding your breath as the bathroom door fell shut behind him. You felt like your head was going to explode, your entire body vibrating with nerves as you climbed under the still warm blankets. You had no idea what you were doing, no idea where the conversation would lead you, but for the first time in six years, you felt happy. Pure, uninhibited joy that could not even be overshadowed by your own dramatics. You wanted him—you never stopped wanting him, and you were going to tell him. You were going to tell him how sorry you were, how terrible it was to be without him, and hope so desperately and deeply that he would be willing to give you a second chance.

He wanted it too, right?

Right?

He was so loving, so attentive and kind as he planned such a thoughtful date, down to every last detail. He had to want it too, and for once you didn’t think you made it up in your own head, that the hope was correct rather than misplaced this time. He had to want it too, because you couldn’t bear the thought of him rejecting your apologies and sending you away.

He was withdrawn during sex, and it didn’t take long to notice. You knew him better than you knew yourself, even if you’d spent so much time apart. What was he thinking about? Was he not enjoying himself? Was he regretting it?

You were working yourself up, your heart aching and your stomach sick as you thought of all the possibilities of what could happen next. You were trembling, vibrating with anxieties. The feeling was grating, irritating as it—no, it wasn’t you.

It was his damned phone beside you in the bed, vibrating nonstop with incoming messages, so constant and steady that you had convinced yourself it was something else.

What the fuck—who the fuck was blowing up his phone?

It wasn’t your business. You knew that, and you tried to distract yourself so you could ignore the temptation. If he had something to hide, he never would have shared his screen on the FaceTime calls, nor would he have left his phone sitting so openly and invitingly on the bed for you to see.

But who the hell was messaging him? Who needed to get through to him so imminently on his days off?

Just a peek, you bargained. Just to assure yourself it was Josh being his normally overbearing and invasive self.

Just a peek.

What could it hurt, right?

Right?

You reached over, slowly grabbing his phone and bringing it closer to your face. You tapped the screen, immediately noticing the surplus of notifications. It wasn’t just from one person, but rather a flood of emails and texts combined. A momentary sense of relief washed over you, but you couldn’t pry yourself away even with the reassurance it wasn’t a secret girlfriend. Instead, your eyes scanned the words that you could read, seeing a lot of rescheduled meetings and chains from what looked to be labels and managers.

Wait, rescheduled?

You looked a little further, your stomach dropping when you gathered the main idea from the surplus of messages.

He had moved his entire life around, canceling meetings and rescheduling interviews that were supposed to be done today, yesterday, and the day before that.

He put his entire life on pause for you.

What should have been a sweet realization was instead evil, ugly, and cruel.

Six years later, you were doing the exact thing you were trying to avoid when you left in the first place. You were standing in the way of his career, and he was doing what he always had; putting you before everything else, no matter the consequences. Putting you before himself, before his dreams.

You left to ensure he wouldn’t do that, but you couldn’t stay away and ended up forcing his hand anyway. It was only a few meetings, an interview, but you knew him well and you knew it wouldn’t stop there. With you permanently in Michigan and him halfway across the world, he would only try harder to see you, and it would only get worse from here.

You couldn’t do that to him. You couldn’t be the very thing that stood in the way of him and his entire life. You wished you found texts from another girl, from a girlfriend or a wife so you could be angry and upset with him for doing such a thing, but that wasn’t who he was, and it never would be. Jake would never let you down, and would do anything he could to make you happy. In doing so, he would sacrifice his own wants and needs, and you couldn’t be responsible for him disregarding everything he’d worked for his entire life.

God, he made it so unbelievably hard to stay out of love with him, even if you knew it was for the best.

Just as you were about to put the phone down, to bargain with your foggy mind and hurting heart, another chain of texts pulled your attention back in.

Amelie - 11:48am

Here’s that sneak peek you asked for. Saving the best for when you get back, so don’t even bother. 😉

*Attachment: 4 images*

“God, what the fuck does that mean?” You whispered to yourself, tossing the phone back on the mattress without even looking at the preview of the pictures as you tried to swallow back the panic you were feeling. It seemed like the world was mocking you for believing the two of you could be together, mocking you for believing that you could have someone as perfect as him.

Who was she, and what did she mean she was saving the best for when he got back? Why had he never mentioned her? Was she a girl he was trying to keep secret? She was close enough to him to have his phone number, comfortable enough to text him on his days off, and cheeky enough to send a winking emoji of follow. You didn’t know what it was, but you knew you didn’t like it.

Your mind was a mess, your chest aching and your head spinning. The message in itself wasn’t exactly incriminating, but you were so caught up in your own emotions from earlier that you wanted to believe it was, so your justification for running wasn’t because he loved you too much. You were jumping to conclusions, desperately grasping at strings to pull together an excuse to leave, but it had nothing to do with him rescheduling his meetings and the oddly worded message from the mysterious ‘Amelie’ (who sounded like a woman you could not even begin to compete with). It had everything to do with your own fear and your inability to see the brighter side of things.

You were doing everything you could to avoid getting hurt, and right now, you were already hurting. Instead of owning up to it and getting to the bottom of it with him by your side, you began to shut out the possibility of loving him in hopes of stopping the hurt before it grew any larger.

Caught up in a whirlwind of grief and a surplus of love, you did not even have time to straighten our separate the two before Jake stepped out of the bathroom, naked and beautiful as ever as he grabbed a pair of sweatpants from his suitcase. He slipped them on, his eyes trailing to you, expecting to see the smile he’d left on your lips when he walked away. Instead, he was met with an expression that told him nothing good, his palms breaking into a sweat and his stomach tied in knots as he tried to decipher the look in your eyes.

He had seen the look once before, and he spent the equivalent to a hundred lifetimes trying to rid the memory from his brain. He was praying it was different this time, that he had it completely misunderstood.

“Sunshine,” he warned, cautiously approaching the bed as he tried to defuse the bomb he knew was waiting to explode.

Afraid.

That was the only thing you were, feeling it so violently and aggressively as you shied away from his outstretched arms, silently pleading with you to reconsider. You were afraid of being hurt, afraid of hurting him, afraid of holding him back and standing in his way. You were terrified of everything, and most of all, unable to comprehend how dearly you loved him. You longed to be a teacher, spent years with your nose buried in a book and working so hard to get a degree so you could help someone else understand better. Not knowing was hard, and not understanding something was your biggest downfall, because you had made a life out of facts and working constantly to make sense of challenging things.

This didn’t make sense, and you couldn’t make it appear clearer. The longer you thought about it, the more confused you became, and it was killing you.

You pulled your legs to your chest, feeling tears shine in your eyes as you looked over his face. He was so beautiful, so perfect and so kind, which is why you had to walk away. He was too good, and you weren’t ever going to be enough. Back then, when you went your separate ways the first time, he took the sacrifice of losing you so you could follow your dreams. You were moving too fast, chasing after a life you couldn’t find in Michigan, and he stepped away to allow you to take the leap without worrying about him.

His actions were valiant, completely selfless and done in an attempt to ensure your happiness, and done without a single care about himself or his own breaking heart.

You had to do the same for him. You couldn’t hold him back or drag him down—he deserved someone in control of their life, certain and calculated with every move they made, stable and fun loving with a carefree spirit, and that would never be you.

Maybe someday, but certainly not now.

“Don’t do this. Not yet.” He sat on the edge of the bed, knowing what you were thinking before you said a word. “Let’s talk about it, please. We have to talk about it.” He was right, but you didn’t want to. The longer you talked about it, the worse it felt. You didn’t talk to him last time because it hurt too bad, and right now as you stared at him, facing the same situation as you did when you were eighteen, you understood that leaving Jake would always be the hardest thing you could ever do.

“This was a mistake, Jake.” You blurted out, immediately realizing the extent of your words when a pained expression crossed his beautiful face. You never wanted to be the reason behind his pain, and in that moment, you knew you were causing all of it.

“A mistake, huh?” He raised his hand to his face, his thumb and forefinger closing around his cheeks as his palm pressed against his chin. Deep in thought and clearly bothered by your choice of words, he could no longer look you in the eyes. “You said you loved me.” There was a slight snide drawl in his words, like he was fighting every part of himself so he would not respond with the hurt he was feeling.

“No, Jake, that’s not—“ you cut yourself off, feeling your chest tighten with panic as you raised your hand to his arm. The gentle touch pulled him out of his internal brooding for long enough to look back in your direction, to see how much hurt you were suffering from too. “You are not a mistake. Loving you is not a mistake, and I do. I love you so much that it hurts, and I could never feel this way about anyone else. I don’t want to love anyone else, Jake.”

“Then what is it?” He asked, reaching out and cupping your cheek in his palm. His stare was overwhelming, so much emotion in his gaze that you couldn’t even begin to comprehend. “If you love me, and you don’t want to love anyone else, why are you trying to leave?”

“I just…” you started, losing your composure as the million reasons flooded your mind. Your voice cracked, your eyes falling to the pristine threads on the comforter as they welled with tears. “Six years, and nothing changed. We’re still in the same situation, trying to love each other and knowing it won’t work.”

“Who’s saying it won’t work, sunshine? I would do anything to make it work—“

“That’s the problem, Jake!” You cut him off, closing your eyes tightly to stop the tears from falling. “Anything. You would do anything, even if it meant throwing the rest of your life away!”

“What? What does that even mean?” He argued, his temper growing as you continued to raise your voice at him.

“Did you really have all this time off, with nothing to do? No meetings, no interviews, nothing to attend to?” You asked, watching his face as his expression faltered ever so slightly. It was barely noticeable, but it answered your question without him having to say a word. “You moved your entire life around just to come and take me to dinner, Jake. Without a promise of anything, without even knowing if I would say yes. If we keep this up, I can’t help but feel like I’m going to get in the way of everything you worked so hard for.”

“You’re not getting in the way of anything, sunshine. I chose to do that. I wanted to do it.” He tried to get you to see his point, to get you to understand that it wasn’t you forcing his hand on the matter.

“That’s the problem, bug.” Your cheeks were damp as you drowned in your own sorrow. “You would give up everything, just like you would have back then. That’s why I had to go. I had to leave so you wouldn’t waste your life chasing after me. Look at what you’ve accomplished since I left. Look at the life you built, all on your own.” You pleaded with him, begging him to see reason. “I’m going to take away from that, distract you from the only thing you’ve ever wanted. I can’t be responsible for that.”

“It’s not the only thing I’ve ever wanted!” He snapped, stronger than he intended to. Still, he continued on, desperate to be heard after six years of silence. “You are the only thing I’ve ever wanted. You are the only thing that’s ever mattered. You sat and listened to me talk about this life, encouraging me to chase after it, made me believe I could do it. It means fuckin’ nothing without you there beside me.”

“Jake, listen to yourself.” You cried, your head pounding and your chest tight as you tried to draw in a shaky breath. “You stepped back, you took that burden when I left and tried to make a name for myself. You didn’t want to stand in my way, and now you have to let me do it for you. I’m the one stuck in Michigan, not knowing what I’m doing or where I’m going. It won’t work, and you know it.”

“Don’t use that against me, Y/N.” The lack of a nickname was like a stab straight to the stomach, making you understand that this was more serious than it was when you were kids, because you were still hurting from it. It was all coming out at once, the fear and the anger and the regret. It was mixing together with your current situation, making for a deadly conversation that the two of you would carry with you for the rest of your lives. “Don’t use that as an excuse to leave now, because it’s the stupidest thing I have ever done. I’ve spent six years regretting it, Y/N. Do not make it seem like it was some courageous sacrifice—it was stupid and wrong, because I was afraid and I was hurt.”

“Jake—“

“No.” He cut you off, calm and collected with a grievous look in his eye. “I let you leave. I didn’t fight for you. I was eighteen and stupid, and I thought it was for the best at the time, and I know now that it was the worst mistake I’ve ever made. I am not letting you leave without fighting for you, Y/N. I’m not losing you again. I waited this long to get you back. This can’t be it. I won’t let this be it.”

“You think I don’t regret it?” You exploded, overwhelmed with the memory of the last time you saw him. “You think I enjoyed driving away, watching you sit at the end of my driveway waving goodbye with tears in your eyes? I didn’t want to, Jake. I hated it, and I hated myself for it. I cried that whole fucking drive, and then three days later I had to tell you to stop texting me because it only ever made it harder to move on. Guess it never would have mattered, because I never did, anyway! Six years later I sat in that bedroom, sorting through that box that held memories from the best three years of my entire life, and I had to swallow the fact that it will always be you, even if I don’t want it to be!” A grimace crossed his face, his heart aching at the harshness of your words.

“I hated looking for you in every man I’ve ever met, wondering if they could even come close to the boy I left at home. I hated staying up at night, listening to the same eight songs and wondering why we couldn’t be the ones who ended up together. I hated coming home and back to that house, just to realize that you were the only thing that made it feel like home in the first place! You weren’t here Jake, you moved to Nashville and you were traveling Europe, touring the world and playing music for thousands of people. You made it without me, and I drowned without you. I ended up here, back in the house I swore I’d never live in again in a town that’s missing the only good thing it ever had. You made it, Jake. You did it, and I will not drag you down again. I love you too much to hold you back. You have to let me do this for you, because you’ve done everything for me!” You finished your rant, barely able to see straight from the tears blurring your vision. Your throat was raw, your voice shaking as you tried your hardest to keep it together for long enough to make him understand.

“Sunshine,” he took your face between his hands, wiping away tears with his thumbs. “This isn’t doing anything for me. You leaving isn’t helping me, and staying won’t hurt me. Loving you is the only thing that I know how to do, and the only thing that I need. You give me everything just by being here.”

“Baby, please.” You closed your eyes, the pain in your chest only worsening as you stared at him.

“No, Sunshine.” He shook his head, holding your face tightly so you couldn’t look away. “Please, don’t do this. I just got you back.”

“Jake, I can’t.”

“That’s it?” He asked, his voice cracking as tears filled his own eyes. “It’s over? We’re done, just like that?” He tried to blink away the pain, but it only worsened his feelings on the matter. “After everything we talked about over the last few weeks? After everything we said last night? That’s it?”

“No!” You cried, shaking your head against his hold. “I guess so? I don’t know, Jake! I don’t know what to do or how to make it better. I'm trying to do the right thing. This happened so fast, and I didn’t have any time to think about it, but now that I have, we both know it won’t work! You’re going back to Nashville and I’m stuck here. You’re going to travel the world and meet so many people, ones that are way better than me and have so much more to offer. I'm going to tie you down and hold you back, and you’re going to realize it too, and I can’t get hurt like that. Not again.” You bit down on your lip to stifle the sobs begging to escape.

“You don’t get it, sunshine. There is nobody else; only you, and it’s always been that way.” There was a quiver in his voice, his cheeks wet with his own tears and he pleaded with you to see reason.

“I have to, Jake. I don’t even know if this is where I’ll stay. I could be halfway across the country again by this time next year. I don’t know, and I can’t force you to change everything because I’m still a mess.”

“I want to, sunshine. I love you.” He whispered, breaking under the weight of his grief. You shook your head again, too overcome with emotion to speak but still as stubborn as you’d always been. “I can’t lose you again.”

“Just not right now Jake. I’m not saying never, but not now.”

The words were worse than a slap in the face, making him choke on the fact that you would never be his, but he would always be stuck on your hook with nowhere else to go.

“So what, friends?” He scoffed at the word as if it were ridiculous, scowling as if it left a bitter taste in his mouth.

“Yes.” You whispered, leaning forward and resting your forehead against his. “I want you in my life Jake. I always have. It’s horrible without you here, but the time still isn’t right. I need to get my life figured out. Give me some time to be what you deserve.” He watched you, his eyes casted down upon your saddened face as he digested the words he never wanted to hear again.

How, after so long and so much suffering, could the time still not be right? How could you still not see it?

But, he loved you, and in that moment it seemed like the worst curse of all. He was willing to do whatever would make you happy, even if it meant agreeing to something that would be equal to torture.

“Fine, sunshine.” He breathed, unable to resist you with you so close to him. He could never say no to you, anyway, no matter the distance. “If that’s what you think is right, I’ll be your friend, but I’ll never stop telling you how wrong I think it is.” A small smile tugged at your lips despite the pain begging to kill you.

“I wouldn’t expect anything less.” You joked, tears still free falling as you breathed him in for what might be the very last time.

“I’m going to suck at being your friend.” He warned, still holding you close while he still could. “I’m never going to stop loving you.”

“I’m not going to stop, either.” You promised.

“Which is why this whole thing is stupid.” He tried again, desperate for you to understand.

“You’ll understand, bug. Maybe not right now, but you will. I promise.” You whispered, fighting every urge to kiss him.

“If you say so, sunshine.” He muttered, too far gone within his misery to worry about hiding it anymore. “Can I kiss you, one last time?”

“I might not be able to stop.” You confessed, feeling the gravitational pull forcing you towards him, the universe doing everything it could to force you into his arms forever.

“Could think of worse things.” He hummed, his hand sliding backwards as his fingers tangled in your hair.

“Me too, bug.” You whispered, closing your eyes and leaning forward.

You closed the gap between you, the kiss soft and sweet, the saltiness of your tears lingering on your lips as you did all you could to savor the moment with him. He dropped one hand to your waist, pulling you forward and into his lap without parting from you. You accepted the new position, melting into his arms and letting your guard down one last time. The warmth of his body surrounded you, and you wondered how you could ever give up the feeling of peace that came with his company. He felt like home, more comforting and inviting than anything else in the entire world, and you wished you could hold onto it forever.

Eventually, you broke free from the kiss, but made no move to leave. Instead, you wrapped your arms around him, resting your head on his shoulder as another, more aggressive wave of sobs racked your body. The smell of his cologne surrounded you, his gentle hold comforting despite knowing it would be the last time you had him in such a way. He always made everything feel better, even if the hurt came from the love he gave in the first place. He held you tightly, his strong arms making it harder to convince yourself to leave. You calmed down enough to rest comfortably with him, only the occasional tear leaking from your eye as he rocked you gently to calm your mind. Then, so softly and so quietly, you heard the soft melody that tore your heart in two all over again.

He was humming, not singing, but carrying the tune enough that you would notice and understand why he was doing it.

There were no lyrics, but you could hear them clearly in your head as you clung to him and wondered why you would ever even think about letting him go.

‘Peace came upon me

And it leaves me weak

So sleep, silent angel

Go to sleep

Sometimes, all I need is the air that I breathe

And to love you

Sometimes, all I need is the air that I breathe

And to love you

Sometimes, all I need is the air that I breathe

And to love you.’

His shoulders shook as he tried his hardest to keep the tune, tears falling down his face as he did his best not to imagine you walking out the door. You felt ridiculous, completely idiotic as you cried and listened to him, wondering how the hell you were in the same position now as you were when you were eighteen. Back then, he put the song on the mixtape to tell you how dearly he loved you, so you could hear it from someone else’s tongue instead of his own. Now, he reinvented the song with a heart just as heavy, hoping it was enough to make you stay this time.

There was no need to retell the story, to recount all of the mistakes you made that led you to the fourth song so long ago, because you had done it just the same that day. You woke up that morning with love delicately intertwined in every aspect of your life, happiest with him by your side, and you would leave him behind with the same love in your heart, just the same as you did six years ago.

When you were eighteen, he loved you. He sat before you at twenty-five, still as desperate to show you how strongly he felt, but you still weren’t ready to receive it. You loved him the same, but you were too foolish to accept it and too fearful of enduring the same hurt. Instead, you convinced yourself that it was for the best to walk away, that the pain now would spare you from worse in the future, even if it wasn’t true.

No matter the time in between the two stupidest versions of yourself, one thing remained true even after all of the pain and all of the years; you loved him the same, just as unapologetically, completely and as wholly as he loved you.

All you needed was the air that you breathed and to love him. Sometimes, you didn’t even need the air and could survive solely off the latter. You spent all your life searching for him, wandering aimlessly while he was gone and wondering when he would come back, just to find the quickest way to throw the opportunity in the garbage as soon as it presented itself to you.

Why were you so eager to walk away when you had been awaiting the day he would return?

Why were you so keen to suffer when he was right in front of you, promising to make it all better?

Worst of all, why, if it was supposed to be the right thing to do, did it hurt so fucking bad?

TAGLIST: @anythingforjtk @highway-tuna @klarxtr @hollyco @thetroublegetssoloud71 @ageofbajabule @dannys-dream @raceb14 @watchingover-hypegirl @starshine-gvf @do-it-jakey-baby @gretavansara @jakesbeloved @woyayaofdreams @jakeyt @kiszkas-canvas @gracev0609 @josh-iamyour-mama @musicspeaks @gretavangroupie @gretavanmoon @gvfmarge @takenbythemadness

[tootoomanycats]

Boiling Over

Suguru Geto x Personal Chef Smut

Pairing:

Pent Up Geto Cult Leader x OC Fem

(can also be read as reader insert)

Word Count: 3,576 words

Summary: Geto realizes that his new cook has started to put disgusting notions into his daughters heads. After tucking the girls to bed, he finds holding the lid on his anger challenging and complex. It is time to have a talk with this vile monkey; only things don’t go according to plan.

Warnings:

Language usage refers to non-sorcery users such as monkeys and animals and uses verbiage degrading non-users' ideology. (It's Geto; I am only trying to stick to how I think he would internally speak about us muggle folk.)

Enemies arguing to unexpected smut.

Mentions of premature ejaculation. (we make sure he knows he’s still wanted)

Minor mention of a potential eating disorder for Geto.

Author Notes:

Hello Everyone! I promise I am still working on rewriting Performances, but I had to stop because my brain would not let me get any sleep until I got this little one-shot out and edited. I never planned on writing any JJK content, but this is my lesson in never saying never. Honestly, I don't know if this will be a stand-alone one-shot or if it will develop into a short story. Either way, I hope you'll like it! As always if you like what you have read please remember that fanfic writers live off of likes, comments and reblogs- we wont admit it but we all have praise kinks.

Have you watered your writer today?

Each long stride only allowed more anger to fill his lungs. That disgusting, foul-breathed cretan. How dare she encourage such thoughts in their minds? To speak of this dementedly wicked world like the Garden of Eden, like it was something worth protecting. When creatures like her ruined its oasis, this was just more evidence that only further proved every reason to go through with the plan to wipe them out of existence.

Silence filled the long, winding corridors in the late hour—only the soft shuffles of his steps to be heard. The time spent wandering, stewing in the whirlpool of thoughts, was unknown. Be it subconsciously or with intention, he came to stand before the kitchen door. Finger paints covered the wood in various colors and shapes and crudely drawn animals. No doubt, the artistic freedom given to the girls by that damn woman. Another distraction put in front of them that should instead be spent studying and growing more substantial for the future, his future. Fingers massaged at his temple, and that damn under-eye twitch was back.

Before turning to continue on the walk of rage, a faint light shined from under the door. The source’s inconsistent flickering made it obvious it was a flame light, not the usual overhead bulbs. A shadow was moving about, its lines from under the door jam shifting around. Was someone trying to find a late-night snack? Curiosity got the better of him as the door cracked open, the well-oiled hinges making no noise to give away his presence. There, at the kitchen island, sat the bane of his existence. A single candle was her only light source as she made notes in a thick-bound journal. Books littered across the counter’s surface that she was scanning between.

After spending two hours tossing and turning in bed, Hope had given up on sleep finding her tonight. What time would have been spent dreaming was now used to research and plan instead. In the short time since coming to the estate, she realized how out of her depth she was. Growing up on a farm had taught her many valuable tidbits that rolled over into the new career of personal cook. Sadly, though, most of the knowledge of common fruits and vegetation was useless now due to being on foreign soil. Not to mention, all the meals commonly made here were a complete novelty to her. All day, the worry of not knowing a simple dish to make for the girls if one got sick filled her head.

She felt lucky that it was still summer, but fall and winter would soon come, so it was best to start studying basic soup stocks and how to preserve them now. Just as exhaustion began to creep its way up her spine, the face of that egotistical man came to mind. She groaned, remembering how he had already refused everything but the boiled, unseasoned chicken breast. A previous warning of how picky her new boss was had first been brushed off, but now she only saw it as something more concerning. When inquired, the girls only looked at each other before explaining how their father seemed to struggle with food. Something about how things always seemed to taste putrid: Hope made a mental note to inquire if there were meals that would not be so vehemently refused going forward.

“I see I am not alone in burning the late-night oil.” Geto had to hold in the smug smirk at watching Hope almost jump out of her skin when making his presence known. Stepping closer to the kitchen island, his eyes scanned its counter’s contents. Multiple subjects filled the open pages, text outlining photos and drawings of local flora and fauna in Japan, while another explained cultural customs entwined with particular meals. “Homework?” he asked, keeping the tone of the question light, almost teasing. Anger still simmered just below the surface, the lid of feigned equanimity keeping it in check.

She quickly closed the notebook, gathered the books, and walked backward while responding. “Just menu planning and figuring out what to plant in the garden first.” Mirroring his strained smile, she still tried to calm the racing of her heart from being caught off guard by his presence. “W-What has you up so late?” Gulping when the evident anger in his eyes seemed to be barely masked by the smile on his lips. With each step he took further into the space, she took one back-feigning needing to put the books back in their place, on the opposite end of the island. Something deep and primal warned not to turn her back to him.

Hands going back into their usual hiding place in the sleeves of his haori, he stopped where she had just been sitting. Magnanimous in allowing the useless cook her space. “I just tucked the girls into bed. They were having difficulty falling asleep, and I couldn’t figure out why for a while until they started asking some peculiar questions.” Geto tilted his head, the candle’s light only illuminating one half of his face while the other became shrouded in the darkness of the night. Even in the dimly lit space, the fear on her face was clear as day. Teeth ground together as realization dawned on him; at first, he had chalked up what she had told his daughters as common monkey ignorance. But now, in the fearful response of shirking away from him, it became apparent that she knew exactly what she had done.

“Oh? What kinds of questions?” Hope’s palms began to sweat, making it hard to hold the books. She had no shame in introducing the importance of protecting living things, nor held abasement in teaching how the circle of life affected everyone, including Nanako and Mimiko. However, this did not make her oblivious to the potential backlash of such actions. Placing the books down on the edge of the counter before straightening her posture; if she were to be fired or threatened, then he would have to do it while seeing her head held high.

What was once a simmering pot now started to boil. It was one thing to play stupid with him, but it was another thing entirely to look proud while doing it. Taking a step forward, he spoke sternly, “Yes. It seems they have these ideas suddenly.” Another step. “Notions I have taught them that will not be allowed in the future I am creating. You wouldn't happen to know where they got those from, would you?” He now stood only a few short strides from her and the corner she had put herself in. Watching as she stood taller with each step, even puffing her chest out. She was brave; he would give her that. Bravely stupid.

Hope’s eyes dropped down from where he now stood to the books before her. With a deep breath, she calmly spoke the answer he was trying to pull from her. “Yes, I had asked them what vegetables would be best to grow in the garden earlier today. As it turns out, they didn't know, and neither did I. So I found a book, and the three of us took turns reading and learning.” Wetting her mouth, she continued before glancing up to see the anger on his face build. “The girls started to have more philosophical questions on which I gave my opinions on.” Fear spread through her bones as he quickly walked into the small space that was left between them. Turning to face the outrage on his face, back facing the island as her hands held onto its edge for the needed stability of what was to come.

“Who are you to fill their minds with such disgusting notions?” The pot's lid danced over the boiling rage held within. The candlelight illuminated both of them clearly, making it possible to watch as shock filled her face at his statement.

At first, her jaw hung open until the feeling of offense had her back to defend herself. “You may think it disgusting, Your Radiance, but like it or not, the reality is that those girls are starting to realize that not everything in this world is horrible. There are things worth enjoying now, not just when you create some theoretical future.” Though her words rang with strength, her body responded in alarm at watching the monster before her shift through so many emotions.

“They are my children! And much too young to be curious about such things.” The lid crashed to the ground as the emotions finally boiled over the pot’s opening. His voice had raised before quieting back down.

“They are growing girls, just three years shy of being teenagers! How can you not see that they are becoming curious about the world around them? Both have questions, yet you refuse to acknowledge it.”

Wrath filled his eyes, his usually fake pacifying expression vanishing to show the true nature of his feelings as he crowded her further with a sneer, twisting his lips. “Oh? What questions would be so important that they would go to a vile monkey for answers instead of me?” His tone was dangerous, threatening, and low.

She could feel the hair on the back of her neck rise; he did not expect such rage to be mirrored back. “I may be a monkey, but at least they feel safe enough to tell me when they like a boy.” Shock started filling his face as she took the chance to be the one now leaning in. “Tell me, how do you plan to explain to them that you will cause the death of their crush?”

Her eyes flicked back and forth between his; he was so close that she could feel the heat of his breath across her nose. Blood thrummed in her veins at how hard her heart pounded. The butcher-block wood creaked under her white knuckle grip, and her back pressed firmly against the counter as he further cornered her in. If this is how she died, then so be it; it will have been worth it to have finally shoved reality into the maniac's face.

Large palms and long arms became caged bars around her, nails scratching groves into the woodgrain. “A crush is a trivial thing.” He leaned further, pressing his chest forward, forcing her spine to bow back uncomfortably. The stiff lip of the wood now bit painfully into her haunches. Delicate fingers gripped the front of his gojogesa, desperate to have any control of how he continued contorting her upper body. His head tilted to whisper into her ear, “They will learn that a monkey’s place is beneath them.”

Geto hated weaklings and abhorred their very existence. It was revulsion, not excitement, that caused the fluttering in his stomach when their cheeks brushed. Loathing how it should have been disgust, not pleasure when her breasts pressed against his chest with each shuddered breath she took. He should have felt repulsed when realizing how perfect the closeness of their height was and how easy it would be to connect further.

It’s because of the years of celibacy that she was so sensitive, Hope told herself. Why else would such a monster cause the sensation of pooling hot honey to form in her belly? How, when Geto shifted his weight to press the muscle of his hips against hers, a whimper caught in her throat that pride refused to let out.

It must have been the lack of touch for so long that had her eyes fluttering shut when he nuzzled his nose into her temple. Monsters did not fathom such intimate affection. Monsters would not wrap such large hands around the back of her neck, gripping the corded muscles of her throat in such a dizzying way. She would not lift onto the counter and widen the distance of her thighs for a beast to slot between them so perfectly. Surely, such a creature would not brace his other hand around the center of her back to press further for contact. The sensation of the growl emanating from its lungs shooting to her core.

It was because his nose had become accustomed to the disinfectant spray that he was so sensitive to her smell. Internally berating himself for nuzzling into the hairline above the cook’s ear, lemon verbena, and citrus mixed pleasantly among the uplifting notes of her scent. Geto couldn’t refrain from pressing firmer into her hairline, gulping in deep breaths of Hope’s scent. The grip on the back of her neck tightened further; confirmation of the creature’s ability to still breathe came in how she tried and failed to hold back a second low moan.

His own response vibrated from how feminine hands gripped the thick fabric on his back and along his rib cage. Cursing at the way, soft, long legs dragged upward along the sides of his hips before wrapping around to press him closer. Silk robe falling open from the movement to show matching panties. It was unbelievable how quickly his cock hardened, straining against the white cloth of his momohiki. He could feel the heat radiating from her core, even with the five layers of Buddhist robes between them. How many years had it been since he had touched himself, let alone such a tempting, vile animal?

Hope bit her bottom lip at the delicious pressure against her core. If she hadn’t been so swept up in the moment’s intensity, she might have been embarrassed about the wet spot that could be felt already in her underwear. Skin growing hot as her body craved more contact and friction. The hands that previously gripped his clothes now reached up to thread into the long tendrils of the brutes hair. Fingernails scraped against his scalp before grasping firmly to pull the face away from hiding against her cheek. The strangled gasp he made caused her walls to flutter; what other noises would this monster of a man make?

The site that greeted her was breathtaking: flushed cheeks, eyes wide with shock and pleasure, and an oh-so-tempting pout to kiss. Gone were the fake smiles, disgusted glares, and angry scowls. Now what stood before her was a desperate mess of a man whose cock was so hard it could be felt through the many layers of clothing. She felt relief from the sight before her; a previous worry that he was toying with her was dissipated. No one would be able to deny his desire from how hard he was breathing, his own hands clinging to her like a lifeline.

Suguru was a man who had faced his fair share of dangerous and terrifying situations in his lifetime. He prided himself on keeping calm and making calculated choices during high-stress moments. So panic began to set in when he found moving from this frozen position impossible. The way her hands had gripped his hair, forcing them to hold eye contact, had his cock throbbing. Panic rose higher from the sensation. She kept glancing at his lips; this wasn’t good. Willing his lungs to work and throat to open, a quiet but hoarse word came out. “No.”

It was Hope’s turn to pout. Her legs locked tighter around him. In reality, he could break free from her so easily; the fact that he wasn’t just proved how much his body languished for contact. Her eyes pleaded as she took in his image, memorizing it and burning it into her mind. “Please.” she quietly asked in return. Hips rocked gently against his to help emphasize her ask. All movement paused at hearing an odd sound. Her brow furrowed in question at the noise he made suddenly, his face contorting to one that could be described as painful. Had she hurt him just now?

Geto eyes shut as the sudden climax continued quivering through him. Its shame was felt running down his stomach, legs, and clothing. He refused to look, to see her expression once she realized what had just occurred.

Hope's concern grew as he stayed still and closed off, contrasting how he clung to her a moment ago. The grip in his hair melted into gentle touches on his cheek, cupping his face to see if she could coax him to look at her. Hormones and endorphins craving the intimacy once more. When his eyes still refused to open, she scanned more of him to find the source of the sudden change. That’s when she spotted it; instantly, it all made sense. The relatively sizable wet spot formed on his clothes was proof of what occurred. Warmth spread to her cheeks as sinful thoughts began to race in her mind, the desire for more growing. Biting her bottom lip, she murmured-

“Again.”

His eyes sprung open wide, disbelief shaping the expression. Their eyes met as he processed her expression of hunger. The gentle touch of her hands on his cheek shifted to clasping the side of his face in place. Hips tilted as she pressed her core to where the wet spot lay on him. His mouth was agape in shock at the feeling of being nuzzled along his jawbone, the sensation trailing a line to his ear where a whisper was pressed against its shell. “I want another one, please.” The ask was sweet and sincere, even begging. Words failed him as a hand gently guided his own from the counter across the warmth of a plush thigh to someplace much hotter. A palpation hit his ribcage when feeling thin satin fabric, saturated and slick, shuttering when Hopes’s fingers encouraged his own to press more firmly against the spot. Her resounding whine brought him back from the out-of-body experience.

The overwhelming rage from before shifted into something much more savage and ravenous. Years of repressed urges bled to the surface; sturdy fingers gripped into the base of her hair like a handle to be pulled back from him, the movement forcing her skull to tilt up. It felt impossible to catch any breath as it heaved erratically between the groaning and growls, responding to how desperate legs clung to him. Any previous control had spilled from the pot that now boiled over. Another hand raised to cup her face with the same tenderness she had shown him just moments ago, watching how her eyes repeated their glances to his lips again. Finally, he leaned in.

“Shhh, I know where she hid the cookies from earlier.” Multiple footsteps could be heard getting closer and closer outside the door. Mimiko and Nanako both telling the other to be quiet, annoying the other with each repeated response given back and forth.

Hope and Geto’s eyes widened as the reality of their situation quickly sunk in. Her mouth opened and closed like the koi fish in the pond outside, and before she could say a word, the maniac was gone. Her brain struggled to process his disappearance, the movement inhuman in its speed. The limbs that once were held up against the other body flopped from no longer having something to grip onto. As the kitchen door slowly opened, she scrambled off the counter and ripped open one of the fridge doors to hide her overtly flushed face. Praying that its cold air would help calm down her heart rate. She was panicking as she quickly fixed the front of her silk robe back in its proper place.

Hidden outside the kitchen’s veranda, Geto stood in horror as the events that had just transpired replayed in his mind. Dismay that the truth about who started the whole situation was him. What was worse was that as hard as he tried to feel the disgust he so proudly touted for her kind, he could only feel how hard he was--again. Realization dawned on him of how dangerous the cook was as he shifted Hopes’s title from monkey to succubus.

[dearmantis]

So I stayed in the darkness with you

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova/The Darkling x wife!Reader

Summary: When you finally wake up and the joy of seeing your husband alive and well dies down you have a conversation you've always wanted to avoid.

Warnings: mentions of death, murder and violence, mentions of grisha persecution, this is not a healthy relationship but they love each other very much, slight gaslighting, mentions of human trafficking

Word Count: 3.6k words

Authors Note: I really thought I would never write this, but I'm having a rare moment where I crave comfort. Also, a few people asked for this (and apparently, some people cried after part 2??? I'm so sorry about that I hope you guys are alright now!). I think this is the end of this? Its not the ending I expected when I first wrote the A lost embrace one shot but it is where we ended up. I hope you guys like it :) I'm not a native English speaker and this isn't edited.

The title of this part (and the name of the series) is from Cosmic Love by Florence + the Machine

Previous Part | Masterlist

When you wake up, it's to the sound of a few birds chirping outside and waves crashing against rocks. You don't open your eyes for a while, instead choosing to enjoy the soft atmosphere around you, letting yourself glide into consciousness slowly and carefully.

It's warm and soft, wherever you are. You feel safe.

Your arms and legs still feel a bit sore even without trying to move them, so you simply breathe in and back out, enjoying the fresh air that faintly smells of lavender, salt and rosemary.

With every minute you spend laying there, eyes still tightly closed, you notice more things around you.

A weak breeze moves the leaves on a tree outside. Occasionally, you can hear muffled steps coming from somewhere other than wherever you are right now. Someone other than you is in the room, fabric rustling quietly when they move. You're not afraid.

It takes a while until you feel ready to try and open your eyes, and when you do, your gaze imediately and instinctively move to the chair next to your bed where your husband is waiting for you, his dark eyes glued to your face and a glass of water in his hand. He's not wearing his kefta, you notice. Just a black shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Not a single speck of gold is visible on him.

A small smile charms itself onto your lips before you can stop it.

"Do you feel ready to rejoin the world of the living?" he asks quietly, waiting for your nod before reaching over to hold the glass of water against your lips.

You empty the glass quickly, your dry throat desperate for any kind of liquid. He takes the glass away slowly, moving to fill it up with more water before placing it back against your lips.

You drink three glasses of water that way. That's how much you need to drink to banish the itching from your throat. Damn those soldiers.

"How long... how long was I asleep?" You ask after Aleksander places the glass back down on the nightstand next to the bed. He doesn't respond for a while, instead moving carefully to check if your body is fully tucked in and warm under the thick blanket covering your body.

"Two weeks," He answers finally while he shuffles around. "You were woken up a few times to make sure you eat and drink, but I doubt you remember that. Fedyor thought it was best if your body got time to recover energy on its own. The two weeks in the cage, the torture, the starving and dehydration, lack of sleep, and even the healing took a huge toll on your body."

The Shadow Summoner moves back to his chair, but before he sits down, he checks if your pillow is fluffy, his gaze awfully serious considering his current task.

Letting the information settle for a bit, you look around in the room you're in. You don't recognize where you are. The old, dark wooden floors are new to you, just like the walls decorated with small drawings and letters you're too far away from to read. When you look outside, you see the ocean.

"Where are we?"

Your hand moves to grab Aleksanders wrist before he can step back to sit down on his chair again, carefully pulling him closer towards you. He looks tired, deep shadows visible below his dark eyes. He needs to rest, probably more than you do, considering you apparently slept for two full weeks. A small, amused smile finds its way onto his lips before he carefully moves to sit down next to you on the large bed you're occupying. You move to give him space, encouraging him to lay down instead of sitting.

"I'll be more relaxed if you're next to me," you reason when he tries to argue, and the mighty, dangerous Darkling gives in, slipping under your blanket and resting his head next to yours on the pillows. You're still mad at him, a deep-rooted hatred for him burning deep in your chest, hotter than the sun itself, but feeling him next to you is nice. It almost feels safe.

Once he settles down, he answers, his voice even quieter and softer than it was before.

"In Fjerda. Kenst Hjerte, to be exact."

Ulla. You're with Ulla. Outside of Ravka. Away from everything he has built. Away from his sun summoner.

"Ivan is still in Ravka with a few others to make sure that no Grisha are left in cages. The rest is up here."

You want to say something, like acknowledge the fact that it must've been almost impossible to move a large group of Grisha through Fjerda undetected, but you don't want to interrupt him. He has that far away look in his eyes, and you assume this must be the first time he's letting himself actually work through and think over the events of the past month.

"Ulla wasn't particularly excited to see such a huge group, you can probably imagine. She has never been fond of company, after all, but she accepted it as long as she could stay away, and I don't tell anyone about her presence."

A smirk appears on his lips, and his eyes find yours. "The last bit that convinced her was the absence of Baghra, of course. As soon as she found out that she was still in Ravka, she was suddenly alright with everyone staying as long as the group doesn't pull attention towards the islands, and no one get's close to her."

Mirroring his smile, you watch him for a few seconds, carefully turning your body to lay on its side.

"So we're hiding again."

Aleksander opens his mouth to respond, probably ready to justify his decision, not realising that he doesn't have to. You're glad. Disappearing back into hiding is arguably the first sensible decision he has made since the sun summoner showed up. You're just surprised that he got to this decision himself. He's usually not someone who admits defeat, at least not without you forcing him to. You expected him to do something stupid, like try to fight the entire First Army and the Sun Summomer on his own and get killed in the process.

"I've never really been in hiding before, not since I was a child, at least. Most of the others never had to be. This will probably be really weird, but I'm excited to learn. Are we going to stay here or move somewhere else?"

He seems a bit surprised by the fact that you're not against his decision, pausing for a few seconds to study your facial expressions before he answers.

"I hope to stay here as long as possible, but we have to be prepared to leave any minute. I hope that Ivans group can collect the last Grisha that don't want to serve Vasily and come up here without attracting too much attention, but it's impossible to tell if that will work out."

You nod slowly, carefully putting together a picture of what has happened in the month that you've been out of the loop.

"Do you think there's a risk that Vasily could find out that we're hiding here and tell the Grimjer family? Maybe as an offering of some kind to kindle peace between Ravka and Fjerda and end the war?"

The darkness that flickers in his eyes for just a second makes clear that he has thought about that possibility as well. It would make sense, after all. Give up the Darkling, his wife, and the Grisha that side with them in exchange for peace. You are all considered enemies of the ravkan royal family anyway, so it wouldn't be a loss for Vasily.

"The risk is always there, but I have hope that the preparation of the royal wedding will distract everyone enough to make sure that we can get everyone out of the country without anyone noticing. The people want to celebrate their sun queen and hope for a better future. It should be easy for skilled soldiers to get through and out of the country unnoticed."

It takes you a few seconds until you realize what he just said, and when you finally do, a confused frown appears on your face.

"Sun queen? Is Vasily marrying Alina?"

Aleksander nods.

"And you're not... you're not on your way to rip him to shreds and take her for yourself?"

He let's out a long, loud sigh and turns his head to look at the ceiling, choosing to stay silent for so long that you start to believe that he's not going to respond at all. The only proof that you have that he's actively thinking about his response are the shadows slowly crawling over the floor and walls, swallowing the room and covering you under the familiar blanket of his very own darkness.

You have spent many private moments like this, cloaked by his powers, including your first kiss, your first time sleeping together, and your wedding night. As long as he controls his shadows, you will always have a home.

When he finally does speak, it's soft and light as a feather, his voice drifting through the air like an ancient melody.

"In those two weeks where I was convinced I would be too late, that you were dead, I learned something very important about myself."

Behind him, the shadows crawl up to cover the window, swallowing the last bit of light in the room.

"You are part of me the same way the shadows are part of me. Even if I hate you and you hate me, I can't change that. Losing you would be like losing a vital organ. Even if you chose to despise me for eternity, to never speak to me again, I need to be around you. I'm not fully myself if I'm not with you, sweet girl. You are part of me, just like I hope I am part of you."

You can't see him, but you can hear how he turns his head to look at you. "You can hate your heart and your powers as much as you want, you can't get rid of either. You need both to survive. And I need you the same way."

If anyone else, literally anyone else in the whole world had said this to you, you would've laughed so loud that you could still hear it in the Fold, but hearing those words come out of Aleksanders mouth, especially in that tone, makes you pause.

You know how he sounds when he lies, how his tone shifts to make every word sound just a bit smoother, a bit more convincing, but none of those signs are noticeable now. It's just his voice, in the same, normal, serious tone he uses during important discussions. The same tone he uses when he marries you once every hundred years.

"I have waited many centuries for the sun summoner. I can wait a few more if that means I can keep you with me."

The shadows retreat from the window, letting sunlight back into the room, but they continue to cover the walls, floor, and ceiling.

The light shows you his facial expression, the warm smile that softens his features and smooths the wrinkles in his skin.

"And what if I don't want to stay with you?" You ask quietly, afraid that you could shatter the atmosphere if you speak too loudly. "You hurt me a lot, Aleksander. I don't think I can do this again. What do I do if you randomly decide that you actually want the sun summoner more than me? If you leave me behind? What do I do if she dies and a new sun summoner appears in 300 years and you fall in love with them as well? I can't be your little bed warmer that fills the space next to you until your sun summoner comes back. I'm not strong enough to go through this again. Not tomorrow, not in twenty years, not in a thousand years. I can't do it again."

You try to turn away from him, but before you even get the chance to move, he wraps his arm around your torso and pulls you on top of him, every inch of your body touching his. His large hands cup your face, forcing you to meet his gaze.

"What can I do to prove to you that I will never leave you again?" he asks earnestly, and you can't stop yourself from whispering as you harshly move your head to escape from his grasp, your voice so quiet that it barely makes a sound at all.

"Kill Alina"

Your husband laughs, this time louder, amusement clear in his gaze as he grasps your face once more to make sure your eyes meet his.

"What was that, little wife?"

"What?"

"What you just said. You said something about Alina."

"No, I didn't. What are you talking about? Why would I talk about her while I'm lying on top of you? You must be hallucinating because of how exhausted you are." Your face contorts with mock concern, and Aleksander scoffs, swatting your hand away when you try to touch his face the way he's touching yours. "You should really sleep, my love. This isn't healthy for you at all. Come on, let's sleep. Good night."

You lean forward to press a quick good night kiss onto his lips – more of a peck than a kiss, really – when his grip on your face suddenly tightens, a loud squeak leaving your lips as he pushes you off of him and positions himself above you, switching your positions.

For a few seconds, you just stare at each other, taking each other in for a few seconds until Aleksander slowly bends down to press his lips against yours.

It's a soft kiss. Slow and sweet with an underlying bitterness that you want to ignore but can't.

His weight on you is familiar despite the fact that he isn't crushing you into the mattress the way he usually would, holding himself up with his arms to keep the majority of his weight off of your still recovering body.

When he finally lifts his head and ends the kiss, you smile at him for a second before seriousness washes the softness from your face.

"I'm serious, Sasha. You hurt me. A lot. And I'm not strong enough to withstand this again. If you want your sun summoner, tell me now. I won't even leave, I promise, so you can just tell me. I just want to be prepared, please." Unshed tears fill your eyes, turning your sight blurry as you stare up at your husband who simply watches you, his own face focused solely on you, face blank like a sheet of paper as he listens to your words.

"You left me. After more than 200 years together, you left me for a child. You lied to me and deceived me, pushed me to the side, and ignored me. Two centuries of partnership thrown away because of her. How am I supposed to ever trust you again?"

You regret letting him turn you now. Sitting on top of him gave you a bit of strength, made you feel stronger and bigger than you really are, especially right now in your weakened state. Now you feel small, caged in by his body and his watchful gaze that you're unable to escape. Pathetic, that's how you feel. You should be stronger than this by now, yet here you are, fighting back tears like a child.

"What if you suddenly decide you want her instead of me in a year or two? Do I have to put myself into a life-threatening situation just to remind you that I'm apparently important to you? What will it take next time? All of Fjerda hunting me? Getting sold like cattle in Ketterdam? Experiments in Shu Han? Is that what needs to happen to keep you interested in me? Because that's not worth it, Aleksander. I love you, I do, but I deserve better than that."

He doesn't react for a while, his eyes simply studying your face while he thinks over his response. After a few minutes, he lets himself sink down next to you, laying back on his side, his gaze still glued to you.

Aleksanders dark eyes do not move from you for what feels like hours, taking in every pore, every wrinkle, every bit of texture, taking his time to catalogue every single milimetre of your face in his mind.

He watches how you try to blink away your tears, angry at yourself for showing weakness in a moment where you have to be strong, and he hates himself for pushing you so far away from his heart that you feel like being vulnerable around him, showing weakness in from of your own husband, is a mistake.

He watches you bite your chapped lips, tearing the flesh and covering your front teeth with a bit of blood. An act of self-punishment or a nasty habit you may have developed while he was occupied with Alina? He hates himself more for not being able to answer that question.

It takes a while, but then his hands move to cup your face, holding you like a precious gem, his rough hands suddenly softer than cotton.

Aleksander doesn't tear up like you do. His hands don't shake, and his voice doesn't break when he speaks, but you can feel his sincerity ringing in the air like a bell.

"I'm sorry."

He apologized several times when he found you. Panicked, pained apologies filled with dread and relief and more fear than anyone should be able to feel. But now he's calm. He's not scared of death ripping you out of his grasp in the next minute, isn't trying to lift some of his own guilt off his shoulders before you die in his arms. He had two weeks of processing his thoughts on his own. He had time to think over every mistake he has made, and he intends to right them, starting with you and what he has done to you.

"I'm sorry that I ever made you feel like you weren't enough. I'm sorry for acting like you aren't enough. I'm sorry for forgetting how much greater you are than me. You are and will always be the most precious thing in my life, the most wonderful thing the making could've ever given me. I am a foolish man, but I should know better than that. And you shouldn't forgive me. I do not deserve forgiveness, but I can't help but hope for it anyway. I pray that you find it in your endlessly kind heart to give me one last chance. If you do, my love, my beautiful, wonderful, perfect little wife, I swear I'll make you queen. I will end the Lantsov line and kill the sun summoner and give you the country we once called home. I will give you anything you want, I promise it."

A loud sob tears through your throat, tears running freely over your face and soaking into the pillow below you as you listen to him bear his old, rotten heart and soul to you.

"I don't want the throne," you rasp out. "I just want you. That's all I've ever wanted."

"I know. And I failed to give it to you, but I promise that this will never happen again. Kill me if it does. Stab me in the heart while I sleep, poison my food, slit my throat. I swear that I will not defend myself. Bring my head to the Apparat and let him turn you into a Saint if I betray you again, my love, but please give me this one chance to prove myself to you. I will not fail you again, I swear it."

You almost laugh at that, but the shimmering in his eyes stops you before you can even smile. It's like he's fighting himself to make sure he doesn't cry, reminding you that this is serious.

"I will actually do it, you hear me? If you betray me again, I will rally the Grisha against you. Ulla, too, while I'm at it. They like me more than you anyway. I'll chop your head off and give it to the Apparat and become Sankta Y/N of the dawn or whatever they end up calling me. I'll make sure there are thousands of paintings of how I murdered you. And I'll make it seem like it was easy, too. I'll tell them I overpowered you effortlessly and cut your heart out while you confessed your love to me or something. All of Ravka will make fun of how you died. It'll overshadow the horror stories about the Black Heretic. You will become the joke of a whole nation."

He smiles softly. "I would expect nothing less of you, my love."

You mirror his smile weakly, eyes flickering down to his lips twice before slowly leaning in. Aleksander waits for you, refusing to move while your breath ghosts over his lips.

"Are you sure?" he asks, waiting for you to decide what to do. The tension between you two is heavy, your nose filling with his oh so familiar scent with every breath you take.

"I am," you answer almost silently. "I don't forgive you, not yet. But I think I can give you one last chance. I think I can do it."

Laughing weakly, you continue, "Especially now that I'm allowed to murder you if you betray my trust again."

He hums, his nose brushing softly against yours as he waits for you to confirm your decision.

When you do, your lips pressing against his, it tastes like ash and death, like destruction and poison and chocolate and peace and promises.

It tastes like sin. It tastes like coming home. It tastes like love.

Taglist: @budugu @purebloodwitch @hells-escapees @savagejane1 @deadunicorn159

[britcision]

I NEED Ryoko Kui to give me some kind of work schedule for the Canaries

I know they’re not important but I NEED to understand what the fuck is going on

Fleki has enough free time to get high (not large requirement)

Otta apparently has enough free time and access to civilians to date??? (Higher time requirement)

Milsiril is KNOWN for adopting babies from short lived races, but she Was Not Retired Until She Got Kabru (HUGE time requirement)

So either Kabru was the first (she’s not had him all that long, 16 years is real fast for an elf to get a rep AND the criminals who knew her before she acquired Kabru talk about it like this is just a known thing - which is all the Canary criminals, only Helki keeps socialising with the Canaries after they retire, Milsiril explicitly does not go with them in Rin’s comic)

Or she was adopting kids in between missions? Did she bring them home after a dungeon, or was there enough downtime to locate and adopt kids?

Cuz sure, she likely wasn’t personally seeing to their every need to the same extent she was after retiring, but you’ve still gotta find an applicable kid, and surely she’d want to spend time with them, or she could just divert some family funds to an orphanage; her home away from the city post retirement woulda worked

So how often did she see them? How long was her leave, did it get longer as she got promoted? Some recovery time between missions makes sense, it’s a physically demanding job, but was it an elf’s short break (years) or ours (weeks/months)?

(How many kids did she have while she had Kabru?? She said she had too many so she couldn’t take Rin, how many is that??)

The elves don’t know what “hurry” looks like and consider 2-3 years getting back to you soon but also they were so desperate for people after Utaya that a fucking DUNGEON LORD was immediately elevated to captain and given a squad as soon as he was fit to fight

(Do they now have less time between missions? Trying to use less squads to cover the same ground?)

So like. How many squads are there? How many dungeons are there? How much downtime do they have between dungeons?

They all have Elf Twink Disease, they can’t be putting on the amount of weight everyone else is going for between dungeon dives to counter the risk of needing revival

(Which btw is not great for your health, rapidly gaining OR LOSING a large amount of weight all at once is dangerous on its own)

(I doubt a single Canary is actually at a healthy weight while serving they die and get revived all the time, but Milsiril never died once or put on any weight after retiring, and the few civilian elves we see are roughly the same size

We do know what emaciated looks like on an elf from Mithrun’s recovery (and tbh I reckon Fleki’s close, most common casualty if they really do kill her and pop her back every time her familiar dies cuz she doesn’t pull out) )

We know Pattadol’s first mission was the Island’s dungeon, but she was with the squad long enough for Cithis to ask Mithrun to break her

So how long was that? How many other wardens did Mithrun get killed? And how long was Cithis with them, if Pattadol was the first warden to annoy Cithis enough into telling Mithrun to hurt her?

I just. I need timelines. For Reasons.

[sorrowfulmuse]

MK1 LUI KANG CONTENT>>> Literally luv you so much for that you’re the first i’ve seen write for him fr! Can i request another headcanon for him but this one would being like soft headcanons about what its like to have him as a partner! Thank you 😘

♡:: liu kang as a lover x gn!reader (headcanon)

♡:: MWAH MWAH TY FOR THE LOVE FOR MY WRITINGS YALL I DIDNT EXPECT TO GROW THIS FAST 😭‼️ my requests are open !! read b4 requesting pls!! enjoy n pls like&reblog!!

liu kang as a lover? YOU’RE the lucky one reader i swear

liu kang with out a doubt would make you his priority over anything else tbh & your needs come before his ALWAYS

he is very honest with his feelings for you, he’s in love with you and deeply cares for you so much so pls return the love back to him and he’ll be the happiest man ever

he’s the type of lover to cover your eyes if it’s too sunny, the type of lover to compliment you every single minute of everyday, the type of lover who finds another reason to fall in with you every single second

liu kang prefers to be the big spoon when you both cuddle, his heart feels content knowing you’re safe in his arms where you belong

he loves to make you breakfast with your favorite beverage in bed so you can start off your day with a smile

he does go out his way to make sure you’re stocked up with certain things at home so you’re not overwhelmed with your busy schedule more

he often would gift you random bouquets or a single flower once he returns home

he LOVES your smell, it makes him feel safe and relaxed

liu kang is to the type of lover to rub his thumb against your hand as you get too lost in your conversation to even notice

when he is busy protecting earthrealm and training his campions, he'll send one of the lin kuei boys to check on you and your whereabouts to give him a peace of mind

loves sharing a cup of tea with you at madam bo's!! my poor boy has a lot on his mind especially being earthrealm’s protector so pls listen to him bc he enjoys your company!!

he is the type of lover to help you with your hair in the mornings, long or short.. he’s willing to give it a shot to make you look your best today

liu kang is immortal so it is important to him to spend time with you as much as he can, he knows he’ll find you in the next life but.. he’s never ready for goodbyes

he leaves kiss trails along ur face, whispering the most beautiful words to you

loves the type of dates where you fall asleep in his arms as you both watch the sunset

like i’ve said before, liu kang is IN LOVE WITH YOU!! he'll go through many timelines just to share a moment with you even you aren’t his in that timeline, he’ll restart history if he has to. you are his sun, he needs you.

[moxxis-bar]

This is a little bit of sad angsty request but could you do Lilith and Moxxi (platonic for both), with a reader who always asks if they can lend a hand, but never accepts help because they've been let down so many times already, that they've found its just easier to do things by themself? Headcanons preferably ^-^ (also thank you for being an active member of this community! Your writing is legit fire)

Lilith & Moxxi + Selfless! Reader Headcanons

OH MY GOD I AM SO SORRY I MADE YOU WAIT THIS LONG I HOPE THIS IS OKAY

Content : Platonic, Gender Neutral Reader, No Use of Pronouns

Lilith

You were one of the newer faces in Sanctuary, still trying to find your place amongst the vault hunters but eager to prove yourself.

Busy as she might be, Lilith couldn’t not notice you with how active you were. One second you’d be helping Moxxi restock her bar, the next you’d be helping Scooter with some repairs. Hell, she often asked you to join her for missions when she needed higher numbers.

She wondered how you didn’t exhaust yourself running errands for others or stepping up when someone asked for help. There’s no shortage of needy people in Sanctuary, how could you manage helping so many of them when you also had yourself to look after?

After a successful (but exhausting) mission, she found you finally taking some time to help yourself as you carefully polished your guns.

“Hey, Killer. Hand that over, I think you’ve done enough for today. I’ve got it covered from here.”

She held her hand out waiting for you to turn in your gun, but you held on and politely declined her offer.

Initially, she’s confused. Do you think she doesn’t know how to polish a gun or something? She’s been doing this for years, y’know…

It takes her some time to get used to the idea that you’re not totally comfortable accepting help. It bothers her that some people take advantage of your good will (namely Marcus…) yet you choose to front all of your own work yourself. 

It makes her want to do better. She’s never been one to doubt her skill. She’s capable and she knows it, and she wants you to know it too. She wants you to know that if you’re willing to, you can trust her. You can come to her for whatever you need help with, whether it be an extra set of hands or a shoulder to cry on. She’ll be there for you, if you’ll accept her help.

You do so much for others, it’s about time you let someone do something nice for you.

Moxxi

After you moved into Sanctuary, you had quickly become one of her favorites. You were new, cute, and oh so eager to please!

You often helped her at the bar, polishing glasses or cleaning up spills. Sometimes, you’d even step out to help patrons who had too much to drink make it back home safely. It melted her heart to see how caring you were for the community of Sanctuary. 

It wasn’t an obligation, yet you tended to help her at the same time everyday. You’d come in late every now and then, muttering something about how Hammerlock made you poke around skag dens or how Claptrap sent you on a wild goose chase. 

“Oh sugar, I could never! If Hammerlock sent me to get mauled by skags, I’d make him exterminate the spiderant nests behind the bar!”

The thought made you laugh, but you could never make anyone pay you back, especially not like that! You were just happy to help.

You always brighten her day when you stop by, and she loved hearing about your good deed for the day.

Or at least she did, until she realized that nobody had ever helped you out. That alone was enough to make her mad. You did everything that was asked of you and more, but not a single person could do one nice thing for you?

She didn’t completely get it when you told her that nobody had ever helped you out because you didn’t accept help. It’s okay to need help sometimes. Needing help is the reason she gets to spend so much time with you, after all. 

She makes it her mission to get you to accept some form of her help. She doesn’t want to force you into something you’re not comfortable with, but she doesn’t like feeling like you’re not on equal footing with her. If you help her, it’s only fair that she helps you.

Towards the end of your shifts, she’ll make you a drink of your choice, on the house. It’s not much, and this isn’t exactly helpful, but it’s her way of giving back to you. It’s a start!

[piratefishmama]

Crossing the Line | Part 2

For Eddie Munson, it started with a tweet. A random little tweet in his mentions that ignited his incredibly hard to control impulsive curiosity. One of his long-time followers and his best friends little brother, a boy with a love of DnD who only begrudgingly followed him after he recorded one of his campaign sessions and posted it to YouTube, pinged him a mention with a single link in it to Instagram captioned “roast him he’s ruined Crazy Train!”

Michael Wheeler you little shit. He’d get Nancy on that one, Mike’s obsession with roasting people was getting mildly out of hand.

But Eddie was a curious soul and someone had apparently ruined an Ozzy masterpiece, so of course he followed that link, he didn’t even hesitate, even let out a cute little “boop” out loud as he clicked it.

Now. Eddie Munson, could have probably been classed as a bit of a music snob. He wouldn’t go too far with his snobbery, but for some people... it was just an unwritten rule that some people deserved the snobbery to the max. They deserved the shit storm that came with Eddie’s brutal honesty and lack of verbal filter.

And Nepo-babies with nothing better to do than *fix* legendary metal tracks with their top 10 bubblegum bitch bullshittery were 100% deserving of the roasting his bitchiest of little sheep had called for.

Did he go a little overboard over the following week while bored shitless in between customers at his shitty non-chain coffee shop gig? Absolutely. Did he feel bad? Absolutely not. It’d taken him all of five minutes to decide Steve Harrington was the worst.

Even if the nepo baby thing wasn’t enough, he was spotted with a different piece of arm candy every month, he had girls and guys falling all over themselves to get a glimpse from him in their general direction, like, there were articles about fights breaking out in the audience of his shows because fans couldn’t decide which one of them he looked at. He lived in some fancy ass house if his insta photos were anything to go by which no doubt his parents bought for him, he did way too many PR stunts to make it seem like he was a good guy, and while his voice was… okay, it wasn’t bad… passable, it was passable…

It sure as fuck needed to stay in its own goddamn lane.

So, the boredom in between the rare rush thanks to the Starbucks down the street was filled with what could only be described as obsessive online bullying, his ADHD hyper fixated so hard, but no way was he even going to notice it, so Eddie didn’t even feel bad about it. The guy had so many people falling all over themselves in hopes he’d notice them that his measly little insults would probably wind up just buried in the sea of hormones and the occasional desperate “COME TO BRAZIL” hashtag Brazilian flag and several thousand heart emojis.

And just as a fun little topper on the ice cream sundae that was his weeklong bitchfit into the void, a lovely little cherry on top, he covered Crazy Train on his channel. Not just the guitar bits, but he made chords and tabs for the lyrics too, letting his sweetheart sing for him, he never sang on his channel, vocals were just for the band gigs, his channel was primarily game music covers but this one, this one he declared “This is what it’s supposed to sound like” in the intro then rocked it.

Eddie was all about freedom of musical expression, but Steve Harrington could go suck a fat one if he thought he was getting away with ruining a masterpiece with his croony bullshit.

“So” The week after he’d finally put his one sided feud to rest, found one Nancy Wheeler, the instigators older sister sidling up to the counter mid-way through the most boring Sunday shift Eddie had ever worked in his life.

“Wheeleeerr, my sister from the most boring of misters, what can I get you babydoll?” He didn’t even need to ask, and she didn’t actually need to say it, he was already halfway through making her fancy little favourite, a cinnamon hazelnut latte with soy milk knowing she probably only had five minutes before she’d have to bolt again.

“Eddie… why have you spent the better part of a week harassing a celebrity on Instagram?”

“I think you mean an entire week, your little brother released the dogs of war. Aaaand the ADHD told me to do it.” He grabbed one of the little honey buns from the treats display and popped it onto a plate for her “forgive me honey bun?” A pet name AND a treat combined. She rolled her eyes fondly before accepting the free treat. “Why do you ask?”

“No reason.” There was absolutely a reason, but… honestly he brought whatever was coming to him upon himself. Sort of. She'd stand in his corner if shit got real. “I’ll handle Mike, don’t harass celebrities until you’re actually a celebrity, and even then, don’t harass celebrities.”

“It’s not like he’d notice, let’s be honest he has more fans than there are stars in the sky, all of them, and I do mean all of them, fully up for bearing his children.” Seahorse dads in the house! But also, mpreg too, ass babies unite. “It’s not like some rando having a questionably obsessive and lowkey aggressive meltdown over his ‘I’m bored as shit’ experiment would ever grace his radar.”

“I’m just saying Eddie, you never know who you’re going to reach with your online nonsense, if you ever want to get out of this place, you’re going to have to play nice with people from all walks of life, including nepotism babies.” The bark of laughter that erupted from Eddie Munson would have probably insulted most people, but Nancy had known him for years. He was listening, he was, there were just layers upon layers of automatic reactions to get through before he’d visibly take in what you were saying. “He could be nice, you never know.”

“Oh yeah, his royal highness seems lovely. Did you know people used to call him King Steve?” Seemed like the worst person on the planet masquerading as a semi-decent guy. Eddie wasn’t fooled in the slightest. “Your drink, mademoiselle!” He presented her with a large to-go cup filled with her favourite beverage.

“Don’t you have some odd little moniker on your youtube channel?” She asked behind the lip of her cup, before taking a sip and humming in appreciation. Even if he was a little shit, Eddie could make a mean latte.

“That’s a persona, it’s an online personality! People calling me Kas is different, people just called him that cause of how much ass he got. It’s weird, I bet he started it himself and paid his cronies to use it until it caught on.” That was good, maybe he’d pick his feud back up just to lay that one on him. “Seems very nepo baby of him, y’know? Can’t get a good nickname circling so he’s gotta buy one.”

“Wouldn’t his parents have bought it for him?”

“Ohhhh Wheeler good one! Nice nickname, did your daddy buy it for you? Babe, sugar plum, I love you. Imma write that one down for later.”

“Please don’t.” He was already off, and she caught sight of her smartwatch beeping about some meeting she was close to being late for. “Shoot! Gotta run, no more harassing celebrities!”

“I promise nothing!” Ah well, it probably wasn’t that big of a deal that Steve Harrington’s best friend had DM’d her, probably not a big deal at all, probably meant nothing... probably.

Part 4