#a room which perhaps one cannot leave

[aliasl]

“Sometimes I have the feeling that we’re in one room with two opposite doors and each of us holds the handle of one door, one of us flicks an eyelash and the other is already behind his door, and now the first one has but to utter a word and immediately the second one has closed his door behind him and can no longer be seen. He’s sure to open the door again for it’s a room which perhaps one cannot leave. If only the first one were not precisely like the second, if he were calm, if he would only pretend not to look at the other, if he slowly set the room in order as though it were a room like any other; but instead he does exactly the same as the other at his door, sometimes even both are behind the doors and the the beautiful room is empty.”

Franz Kafka (in a letter to Milena Jesenska)

Heeey!

What I did notice and find super charming is that Dean calls it the 'beautiful room', because I'd have thought he'd call it 'fancy' or something along those lines. But nope, he thinks it's beautiful!

[sttoru]

clan leader!satoru, whose smile isn’t actually a. . . smile. it serves as a gentle (yet not-so-gentle) threat to whomever it is dedicated to. a lot of the gojo clan members, as well as members from other noble clans, have heard of that infamous smile and know of its true meaning.

ever since marrying you, that smile often finds its way onto his lips. it’s not because of you, but rather because of the ones interacting with you. satoru didn’t ever expect to feel so possessive about someone he initially didn’t care for.

a marriage of convenience is all that your relationship was for. it purely existed for the sake of a connection between two famous families. your first weeks together have been awkward. any form of affection - any touches or loving words - were for the sake of his image.

however that all was fated to change: satoru eventually found himself falling for his wife.

your kind personality, your subtle smiles, the embarrassed expression on your face whenever he teased you in front of others even if it was all a faux display- an act of being all lovey-dovey. your inner and outer beauty was slowly becoming more apparent to the white-haired man.

you don’t know when it started. you can’t recall why satoru is suddenly acting affectionate even behind closed doors. usually, he’d drop the act the second you’re in your chambers. now he continues to compliment you, pepper you with chaste kisses as long as you allowed him to… even refer to you as his ‘dear’, ‘pretty girl’ or ‘sweetheart’ to your face like it’s nothing.

you shrug off your own guards and maids when they curiously inform you about their lord’s sudden change of personality, which was supposedly all because of you.

“ah, my wife,” satoru’s voice echoes above the loud chatter in the main hall. you turn your head and find your heart racing for some reason as he addresses you in that gentle tone.

he makes his way through the crowd, eyes never leaving your face, even as other important figures try to catch his attention to talk business. “i was greatly worried about you,” your husband sighs.

a gloved hand cups your face and satoru leans in, his glossy lips inches from yours. you’d think this was part of the fake arrangement, but there’s this genuine hint of adoration behind his cerulean eyes that you cannot ignore.

“i— my apologies,” you murmur softly, eyes darting around the room while you try to ignore the loud thumping of your heart. “i was simply talking to one of the guards,” you explain and nod your head to the bulky man standing next to you.

the guard respectfully bows to satoru the second you introduce him. your husband doesn’t respond for a single second, his fingers twitching lightly at his side. he can’t stand the thought of you talking to another man while he isn’t around.

is it for your own safety? or is it because he’s jealous and immediately wants to get rid of any man who dares speak to his precious wife? perhaps it’s a mixture of both.

“i see,” satoru replies. his eyes darken for a second before he catches himself. the corners of his lips curl upwards, though the smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

that familiar sight makes you nervous. you’ve seen it before, when your husband would subtly threaten others for whatever reason, while hiding his true feelings behind that smile.

“well,” satoru continues, his arm wrapping around your waist. he pulls you against his side and places a kiss on top of your head while glaring at the guard through his white eyelashes.

“thank you for keeping my wife safe,” the clan leader says through that tight smile, trying to keep it as ‘genuine’ looking as possible. he has a reputation and image to uphold after all.

you’re about to say something, but are cut off as satoru adds another comment. “i’m here now, so you can return to your post.”

it isn’t a suggestion. it is an order— a command. a disguised threat.

the guard immediately picks up on the subtle hint and nods without saying a word before walking back to his spot at the doors. you can hear the faint whispers from others as they also seem to recognise that change in satoru’s demeanour.

it’s not like you’re totally oblivious to what’s happening either. you look up at satoru and place a hand on his chest, trying to catch his attention. “satoru,” you whisper his name.

the white-haired man immediately snaps out of it and excitedly shoots you that boyish smile of his instead of the fake, cold one he wore on his face just a second ago.

“you called, my dear?” satoru tilts his head, bringing a hand to rest over yours on his chest. your eyes widen a bit at the way he seems to relax and look at you with that same devoted gaze.

you don’t think it’s an act anymore. the words die on your tongue and you can’t recall what you wanted to say anymore. those sparkling blue eyes and charming smile have you rendered speechless.

“…it’s nothing,” you mutter under your breath. you have no clue how you’ve managed to turn that once, cocky, overly confident and cold-hearted ruler into a total softie for you. it’s something you still need to process yourself.

satoru doesn’t leave your side for the rest of the night, glaring at the men who pass by, shooting them that fake, threatening smile if they looked like they desired to converse with you.

you’re his wife, and that’s that. he silently wonders when you’ll realise that he actually fell for you. perhaps you are already aware of it, but hide it from him on purpose.

whatever the case is, satoru will make sure that you know his true feelings for you. one day he will tell you those three words explicitly— if it wasn’t obvious enough through his sudden change of behavior.

[suguae]

Haunted

Toji cannot move on, until he realized too late.

Warnings: Angst, slightest fluff (reader and baby 'gumi moment)

You were just a girl, standing in front of a man, asking him to love you.

How hard was that for him? Yes, he wasn’t good with his words but he wasn’t good at anything else either. He was just there.

Maybe because the woman he truly loved—he was still mourning over her. His sad eyes every time he watched an old couple dance together, wishing he had been doing that but with her. The cute babies babble with their mothers as Megumi babbles with his father, how he wished his wife was still here instead of you. He never said it, but that’s what it felt like. 

And perhaps that's what it was. 

Sometimes he curses himself out when he accidentally calls you his wife's name. During intimate times only. You tried—trying to keep the emotions in as if it wasn’t breaking every part of you, was the hardest part. “Look he’s walking...” You smiled at the dark haired baby who was walking towards you. Toji smiled, making sure he’d record every second of it; deep down he wished his wife was the one the baby was walking towards instead of you.

And it was wrong—so wrong. 

“This relationship, I’m with you but Toji—Toji this is the loneliest I’ve ever felt.” You whispered while he ate his leftovers, his brows still furrowed from the argument occurring earlier. Having Toji work from 9–5 wasn’t the best but good thing he had you, helping him out with so much. Picking up groceries, picking up his lovely son—until you mentioned that one of his teachers mistaken you as his biological mother. That right there was enough to make Toji angry for weeks at least.

But not this time.

He stopped chewing on his food after you spoke, waiting for more of an explanation. Which you figured he needed, “I don’t think you’re in love with me–” 

“I like you [name], a lot.” He cleared his throat. He leaned back on his chair as his arms crossed waiting for you to continue the sentence he interrupted. 

Right, he liked you a lot. These three rough years you’ve been dating Toji—that particular l word was never uttered once, not even if he was drunk, or having a special moment with you. You huffed trying to find the right words for Toji to understand. That was until little Megumi started crying from his room. “I’ll try to put him back to sleep, finish eating.” He watched as your fragile little body sulked its way to Megumi’s room.

He knew this was gonna happen, he knew you were bound to leave him sooner or later. 

You smiled as you opened the door to see the little Megumi standing on top of his little bed. His hands wiping his tears as he ran towards you, his arms now wrapping around your legs. “Sleep with mama and papa.” He cried out as you leaned down to pick up the little boy. “[name] and papa, not mama okay?” You corrected him, if Toji were to find out that he had been calling you that, then that argument would’ve climaxed.

The little boy nodded, his tears now gone as you swayed him around. “Sleep with you.” He mumbled, leaning his head on your shoulder as he played with a strand of your hair. “Just for tonight.” You whispered, watching Megumi pick up his head and smile. Content with your answer. 

Toji’s heart could just swell at the sight. You treated his son as if he was your own and nothing looked so much better right now, except for the fact that he wished it was his wife.

Megumi was now soundly sleeping between you and Toji, “I don’t think I can do this anymore.” His eyes shut tightly hearing those piercing words leave your mouth. It hurt when his wife left him, but this hurt was different—different because he knew it was coming yet he didn’t want to do anything about it. 

“I’m sorry—”

“You don’t need to be the one apologizing.” He watched your soft gaze stare at completely nothing. He was confused, this was his fault. He never treated you how you needed deserved to be treated. “It was my fault for throwing myself at a man who simply was not ready.”

The next morning was silent—baby ‘gumi was confused at the saddened look on your face. Constantly walking up to you asking if you were okay. He was still just a baby, yet he read the room so well. “I’m sure we can work this out—” Toji now sitting next to you on the couch, some cartoon playing in the back as Megumi’s little head sat on your lap. “You’re not ready, Toji.” You nodded, eyes still glued on the tv as if it was meant for you and not the little Megumi. 

“And how are you so sure—”

“Tell me you love me then.” Your eyes are now fixed on Toji’s. It was hard, he felt as if his mouth had been glued shut. You sigh, bringing your gaze back to the tv, “I love you—but it’s hard when it’s one sided Toji.” 

It hurt much more, seeing you drive away as the clueless Megumi waved you out. Poor thing thinks you’re simply going to the store. The house that once felt like home was so dull now. Toji sat little ‘gumi down on the couch. 

His constant, “mama?” or “[name]?” while he kept his gaze on the door every so often. Nothing prepared Toji for this. Megumi cried that he wanted to sleep with his mama and papa, his heart swelled knowing that he had been talking about you.

You were gone, just like his wife. But it hurt—it hurt so much more knowing that you’re alive trying your best to…move on. He stayed up late that same night, stumbling upon a video from two years ago. When Megumi first learned how to walk. You and Toji had just started dating but the look of happiness plastered your face as you watched the little baby walking. 

That was one thing Toji never forgot about, how much you loved kids. Telling him how once you had kids of your own you would finally be able to live in peace. How he heard of it less and less as the years went on, he wonders if you still think that.

next part ->

[cheezritsu]

Itoshi Sae has far more feline traits than those narrow turquoise eyes of his. At the top of your notes app titled “I don’t need a cat, my boyfriend already is one,” is the fact that Sae will never, ever be clingy, will never ask for your touch, and is coy about romance as a whole—but he just has to be near you.

Manshine City is playing Ubers. Ubers cannot resist having a yellow card every time they step on the pitch, and Manshine City pisses Sae off more than even he knows. You’ll press him about that later, because he’s watching the match in your shared bedroom and not the living room television which is not only bigger, but louder like he likes. Why is he fixing your temperpedic to be a damn near 90 degree angle when there’s a perfectly good couch in another room?

“Who’s winning?” You call from the bathroom. You’ve chosen to grab a bar stool from the kitchen to make yourself comfortable as you part your hair into four sections. It’s a hard ritual, but it pays dividends; you noticed that you were shedding a lot less hair when you sat down and pre-detangled before the shower. And you were a little optimistic about your last style and ended up stretching it out a few days longer than you should have. The end result wouldn’t be good to your heart.

You’re half way through finger detangling your section when you realize Sae hasn’t answered you. You lean back, the open door to your bedroom allowing you to catch a glimpse of him. There’s something off about his expression—Sae’s normally indifferent looking, sure, but there is a harder frown etched into his face. And he’s not even looking at the game. He’s glaring at…the door frame?

“Babe,” you say, and it breaks his trance. He looks up at you, but you’ve once again disappeared from his line of sight. That lean back was killing your spine.

“Huh?”

“I asked who was winning.” You carefully two-strand twist the now slippery section together, then use an alligator clip to keep it off your back. It’s kind of crazy how long your hair is now compared to the beginning of the year. You take down your next section, looking up from your lap and-!

“Holy shit!”

Sae gives you an unimpressed look in the mirror. You look at his reflection instead of him when you demand “When did you get in here?”

“While you were daydreaming.”

The tv is off. Or it’s paused. The vacuum of silence is a little uncomfortable. You were doing your hair in an old tshirt; a reprint of Sae’s U20 match jersey. It would make plenty money on the internet, and here you were getting hair products all over it. Sae looks at the front of your shirt with a wrinkled nose. Other reasons your boyfriend is a cat: he needs a fucking collar, and he pulls faces instead of vocalizing.

“What are you doing?”

“My hair.”

You can see his roaming gaze trying to piece together the exact routine you have, but he’s struggling. Before another quip can leave his mouth you elaborate. “Pre-detagnling. That way when I wash my hair it has less breakage.” You squeeze your detangler into your hands and slather it into the wetted section of hair you were working on. “I wanna keep what little hair I have.”

You get a real reaction this time—a snort of disbelief. “You have more hair on your head than Aiku has on his entire body.”

You blink. “That’s not really a metric I’m privy too.”

“He’s like a gorilla. It’s gross.”

You hum, but you love Sae’s endless opinions. You can tell he still has some rattling around in his brain that he’s having trouble spitting out. Perhaps he’s finally using a filter around you, or he’s really trying to find just the right delivery to piss you off. It’s 50/50.

He finally settles on, “You hair has gotten really long,” as he’s transfixed by the quick motion of your digits twisting the hair into a long rope. When it drops against the side of your head and he sees where it reaches, he shakes his head. “Like, really long.”

“Thanks,” you smile, and warmth spreads in Sae’s chest. “Weren’t you watching the match?”

“I paused it.”

“Why?”

He doesn’t answer. “I thought long hair bothered you?”

“It does,” you answer slowly, really trying to keep up with this conversation. Sae pings questions at you like the midfielder he is, but this is a little too quick. “But I think when I was growing my hair out the first time I never shaped it, or did styles with it. There was this girl at a restaurant I went to, like, years ago when I was at the beach with my parents who had long natural hair. She had it pulled back in a satin scarf and had like two little front pieces sticking out.” You create the style by gesturing your hands over your head. Sae’s gaze melts, the usual hard line of his mouth settling into something content.

“She was so pretty.” You have a distant look on your face, and Sae doesn’t doubt you have that crystal clear memory in your head. “I wanted to be as pretty as her. But I didn’t really know what to do with my hair, and it has really hot all the time, so I cut it. I think about it all the time though.”

Sae acknowledges your story with a nod. He traces shape of your curls with his finger, careful not to pull too hard. A soft tug elongated the spiral, and then it snapped back.

“Your hair is beautiful,” Sae suddenly spits, making eye contact with you in the mirror. “I liked it when it was short, and it’s pretty now that it’s longer. I don’t know if I ever told you.”

He hasn’t. Not so bluntly, at least. Sae never needs to occupy his hands, so he doesn’t touch your hair at all, ever, but now he coils the strands around his finger like his own personal fidget. Something stupid balloons in you lungs and press hard against your ribcage. Pride, maybe? Love, probably. You twist your neck and the piece of hair slips from his grasp.

“‘Preciate it,” you reply, adopting his casual air to force down your excitement. Sae’s face stays the same though, and he even goes so far as to press a little kiss to your exposed shoulder blade. He must feel the heat of your skin, because a smirk curls across his face. Oh, you could kill him.

“Alright, alright,” you shoo him. “I gotta get to work. This is just the pre-wash, so I’m going to take a minute in here.”

“I could shower,” he says absently, and before you could even protest, Sae is opening the shower door, rearranging products around the wall to make sure your shampoo, conditioner and wide tooth comb are front and center. “It’ll be warm though, and not scalding hot like you like it.”

“Then don’t shower with me.”

The pipes turn on, Sae’s funger’s dipping under the water the check the temperature. “It’s bad for your skin anyways.”

You don’t even mention it. You probably will halfway through when he’s “unknowingly” doing your hair for you, but it could wait.

[aceecee]

Miseria - Caleb

Synopsis: Six different timelines. In each one you find yourself taking over the life of an extra in the game you had been so smitten with. In each life you’re different, whether it’s a different job, or where you live and even your personality. But only one thing remains constant, you’re determined to avoid them. You’re not in the body of the MC so it’s not like they’ll even notice. Right?

You really shouldn’t have underestimated them.

Alternatively: Your ex decides you're getting back together. Your consent is not needed!

MC | Zayne | Sylus | Xavier | Rafayel

TW/Tags: breakups, angst, reader is a widow and single mother (so mentions of pregnancy and some sentences on the effects of it but I’m not going deep into it otherwise we’d be here all day), death, loss of a loved one/minor character, grieving, there is a child in this I’m sorry, stalking, plus size reader, suggestive content (16+), forced second chances, small mention of drink spiking, pseudo-incest? (I hated even typing that out but it’s literally part of MC and Caleb’s dynamic), yandere caleb, possessiveness, obsession, implications of child abuse, small mentions of Caleb and MC’s past, sabotage, forced kissing, threats against a pregnant lady (not you), unrequited love, implied future non-con/babytrapping, forced marriage, dead dove do not eat

WC: 14.3K

Masterlist

Disclaimer: This is a yandere work. The character's personalities have become dramatised as a result. This is not what I think of them at all even as yanderes, it's just for pure indulgence. MC in the boys chapters is not the same one in her's, she's just generic but she will always be a friend (not in this one though). This is not a safe space for MC haters. If you don't like any of this then don't read.

Caleb is very out of character in this. I cannot emphasise this enough.

One moment you’re relaxing on your bed - your own way of celebrating that you had aced your job interview and landed your first big job which made those hell years at uni all worth it - the next you’re standing in someone else’s bathroom.

The sudden change leaves you disoriented but even with the room spinning around you, you still take notice of your appearance in the mirror. The air is humid and the mirror itself is foggy. Someone clearly took a shower. That’s when you feel the water drip down from your head, you reach to touch your hair and look in shock at the liquid on your fingertips. It was you that did. The realisation doesn’t make sense. You had just been on your bed, how did you get here?

You reach for the corners of the sink, an attempt to ground yourself, making sure to take deep breaths. It works, you find yourself calming down. The shakiness in your arms starts to disappear and the thundering of your heart slows down to simple rainfall. 

Lifting your head back up you concentrate on the woman in the mirror. She looks just like you, the same scars and blemishes adorn her, her mouth creases the same way yours does when you smile, she has every single one of your features. So, then why does she feel like an imposter?

Perhaps it’s the differences you’ve started to notice. You’re not sure of her age but she looks more mature than you. It’s in her eyes, very clear that she had experience you had yet to gain. Her body feels weird too, it’s the exact same as yours though, thick thighs, flabby arms and a round stomach. You don’t think you’ve ever felt this sluggish. She’s exhausted. You lift the pyjama shirt to examine deeper. She has stretch marks, around her thighs, leading up to the stomach and even in the corner of her breasts, just like you did. It happens from excess skin but the marks on her stomach are deeper than they had been on yours.. There’s a scar on the lower stomach, a line. It’s faded but still visible, when you reach to touch it - you don’t feel it much.

Oh.

In a panic, you leave the bathroom desperate to run away and find help. But then the pain comes in your head. You find yourself on your knees clutching your head as you groan in anguish.

Flashes of white hit you, whispers and sensations. 

Memories, you realise.

The next time, you wake up on the bedroom floor unsure of how much time has passed.

You’re much calmer this time. You’re not her but you are. She has your name, you’re the same age and have the same birthday but you have lived different lives. You remember every detail of her life even the moment she was born. You remember her happy moments, her sad ones and the ones so painful she bottled them away. You remember that she had fallen in love twice, each one ending in pain. You remember as she discovered her pregnancy and raised a child with the man she continues to love but it’s just her and the child now.

More than that, you’ve realised you’re in a fictional world. One you had grown to love. That had been crafted for the characters you adored in it. 

Your favourite had been the purple-eyed childhood friend but as you recall her memories, you want nothing but to pummel him to the ground. Your heart twists with the ache she has memorised in relation to him.

“I don’t understand why I have to go,” you whine to your best friend, wrapping yourself around her.

She throws you off her shoulder. “Because you’re the president!” she tugs at your cheek. “I can’t believe someone so lazy as you was picked!”

Pen is only joking with you. Your vice president is aware that despite your affinity to laze around, you’re the best for the job. The year before you had been chosen, you had created and implemented a program at Skyhaven University. One simple yet invaluable. The name for it was simple, ‘TELL’. Not an acronym. A website focused on anonymity, where students could go and ask for anything. Whether it was advice, or help with winning over a professor or with assignments. Responses would come from students themselves.

The site was heavily monitored and every resource on it was free. The fees required to keep it running were taken care of by the donation you had received from the competition. The one you had entered before when you were still in high school. You had run a similar website back then but on a much smaller scale, only between your class. You documented everything, the good and the ugly. But no one could deny the benefit it brought, in just a few months differences could be seen. Assignments were done with ease, morale was up and your class? You all became so close that you all still regularly meet up.

No one was shocked when you won the competition and that was when you garnered the attention of several universities but the one in Skyhaven paid the best. You sold the idea to them for an amount that would ensure your grandkid’s grandkids would be taken care of. You got a nice scholarship and instant admission into your desired course with the added bonus of taking care of the site until you graduated.

The program had been running for a few months before you started university, so you had attention on you when you did. Your first year had been amazing but no one told you popularity could be so tiring. Only you were shocked to learn you had been elected the president of the student council for the next year.

You didn’t even know there was one. Wasn’t it only a thing in high school?

You had every intention to decline - it was too much work - but Pen had convinced you otherwise. As your oldest friend, she had flashed those puppy eyes at you knowing it would work. She’s an art student, her sculptures are ethereal. As revenge you recommended her for vice president. It backfired because she actually enjoys her job.

It’s 6AM in the morning. You have two hours to set up for the annual orientation day. It’s a day meant for all those who are new. The one you attended last year was dull. That won’t happen this year.

As tradition, all organisations have a booth but you had personally collaborated with each one to ensure everything would go smoothly, making recommendations to tweak their set up. There was already buzz about the event due to the meticulous posters that you commissioned an actual graphic designer for and not the sweet but very tired/underpaid receptionist who had simply slapped the words ‘Orientation Day’ in a fancy font and called it a day. There will be a variety of food stands, suitable for all diets. There was a stage where clubs were welcome to show off their talents and so much more. The hope was that the event would last the entire day with the goal of collecting donations.

You spend the next two hours simply going around and making sure everything is organised.

When the time on your watch shows 7:58AM, you and Pen wait with bated breath. “It’ll be okay,” she assures you. You nod back.

To your relief students flood the area right on time. “There’s so many of them,” Pen whispers to you in awe. The two of you grin at each other. It would be nice to set a precedent. 

It was the longest he had been away from her. The two of them had a tearful goodbye before he boarded the train to Skyhaven. Even with his friends chatting his ear off as they make their way through the crowd to the stage, all he can think about is her.

Is she eating okay? Does she miss him as much as he misses her? 

He hopes the answer is yes.

His thinking is cut off by the sudden lights on the stage. A figure steps on the stage.

“Welcome to Orientation Day, everyone!” the girl speaks normally into the mic with a bright grin on her face. 

Cheers erupt all around him but all he can focus on is the girl.

You’re wearing a simple white shirt with the logo of the university and blue jeans. The only accessory is the watch on your wrist. Such simple clothing yet you make it look priceless. You introduce yourself. He watches as you explain the event and as you lay out all activities available. He drinks in your laugh, your smile and any mannerisms. 

After telling everyone to relax and have fun, you walk off the stage. He keeps his gaze on your figure until you disappear into the crowd. A nudge to his side demands his attention.

“Pretty, isn’t she?” Gideon asks him.

“Huh…?” he clears his throat. “...I guess.” 

It just might be the biggest lie he’s told. You’re unlike anything he’s ever seen but shame eats him up inside at the thoughts. How could he easily forget her, even if just for a moment?

Gideon rolls his eyes. “Whatever, man. You never find anyone attractive.”

It’s true. All his life his attention has only been on one woman. He’s never even glanced at another simply walking by, never cared for any of the celebrities his friends go crazy over so what changed now? 

He brushes it off. It’s just a one time thing, he soothes himself. You’ll never see her again.

Not even ten minutes later he’s face to face with you.

“What did you want to sign up for?” you ask him with a smile. The words and gesture don’t mean anything to you, you’ve been repeating it to those looking to sign up for the activities available but the simple act might just be his ruin. 

You can’t help the amusement shining in your eyes as the boy in front of you struggles to speak. His ears are tinted pink as he realises it too. You give him a patient smile and look him over. You’re not one to care much for romance despite the line of suitors you’ve acquired (yeah, you’re not humble about it either) but the boy is cute. The bright rays of the sun bring attention to all the freckles on his face. It takes everything to not lose yourself in his eyes, the purple a shade that reminds you of the same galaxies you had ‘oohed’ and ‘ahhed’ over as a child. You’re sure if you search deep in them, you’ll find speckles of gold resembling the stars. 

Over the years, you’ve found that you don’t really have a type. On the rare occasions you happen to develop a crush - which never seem to last more than a week - each person had been different. You’ve met a variety of people over the course of your life but none have captured your interest this quick. Or even managed to make your heart beat fast like he was.

His friend throws an arm around his shoulder. “We’d like to join the basketball game happening,” the friend grins at you while the other boy looks away. 

You pick up the tablet and bring up the list. “Sure, I’ll need your names.”

“I’m Gideon and this is Caleb. You’ll have to excuse my friend here, he’s shy,” Gideon reaches up to ruffle Caleb’s hair. Said man groans and swats his hand away.

“All done! I hope you enjoy yourselves today,” it shouldn’t please you so much as both of them fluster at the smile you send them. “My contact details are on TELL if you ever need help with anything.” You have to say this to all new students as the president but this is the only occasion where you hope it happens.

Becoming all too aware of the long line behind them, the two boys walk away but not before Caleb takes one last glance at you, one that you don’t see. Which might be a good thing since you don’t see the dark expression he wears as you converse with another man with the same smile you had given him.

A few months go by after that. Orientation day had been successful. Even though they had been optional, the donations received should fund the TELL website for an extra year and should still have some leftover. 

The boy with the name Caleb takes refuge in the back of your mind and refuses to leave. It’s frustrating pining over a man you met once and it’s so unlike you. There’s nothing you can do about the need to see him again as the second year of your course only gets more complicated and your other responsibilities only add to the stress you’re slowly accumulating. Any free time is gone and your precious sleep was the first to be compromised, something that leaves you different. Gone is the laid back girl you used to be, you’ve been replaced with someone who snaps at the smallest thing. Your relaxed smile has been switched with a frown. You’ve become your worst enemy.

A grump.

The changes in you have started to affect those around you as well. You still feel guilty that you had shouted at Pen over a small mistake, you had apologised like crazy straight after but Pen hadn’t even been mad. Instead she fretted over you, asking if everything was alright. You don’t deserve her but her concern was valid. 

You detest shouting. In the decade you’ve been friends, Pen has never seen you raise your voice, not even once. 

“[Name], they’re expecting too much from you,” she had held you in her arms as you cried. “How the fuck do they expect one person to do all this?” That was when she had gotten angry, when she looked over your bullet points of everything you had to get done before the month was over. Again, you don’t deserve her.

After confiding in her a little more and with lots of reassurances from her that you weren’t weak for “giving up”, you held a meeting with the rest of the student body. They agreed to shoulder some of the responsibility for you and for the first time in months, you slept through the whole night. Have you mentioned you don’t deserve Pen?

It took a while for you to go back to your original self but no one could deny the ease that rolls off you now. The magnetic pull in you that draws in anyone within radius. 

As president, another thing you had to do was keep up appearances. If students and staff don’t actively see for themselves you running around, then it doesn’t matter how much you accomplish, they’ll label you as lazy. So, the fact that you’ve been cooped up inside for the last few months wasn’t ideal.

Luckily an easy fix is something that happens every night without fail. Parties. The campus guidelines state that no parties can be held on the grounds without a member of the student council present.

You volunteered for the one tonight and Pen offered to join as well. Since you’re on supervising duty, you can’t drink anything. Which is probably for the best, the president before you ended up getting spiked and shoved into a closet so the rest of the party could let loose. Such extensive measures weren’t needed, you were all meant to be there so the university could look good, not actually intervene.

Your eardrums might just rupture from the loud bass music playing as you and Pen approach the building. There are people lingering outside on the lawn, groups talking to each other and some failing to walk straight. They all greet you as you pass by and you respond to each. 

A drink is shoved in your hands as soon as you enter. “Drink with us Prez!” a drunk boy yells at you. You raise the plastic cup to your lips and pretend to take a sip, the boy cheers completely unaware of your trickery. As a formality you remind him to be careful and walk away, dumping the cup on a random table. 

Pen gives you a subtle nudge. “That guy’s been staring at you since you entered,” she gives a quick nod in a direction. Your gaze moves to the area and you halt as your eyes meet violet ones. The block you had put up in an attempt to ignore how those eyes made you feel collapses in on itself. Heat creeps down your body and settles down between your thighs at the intensity of his gaze. 

Caleb did not want to go to the party. His resolve didn’t weaken no matter how much Gideon begged him. Normally he would be down but he had an early class and the material was important. All Gideon had to say was that you would be there for Caleb to change his mind. To his frustration, Gideon had caught onto Caleb’s…whatever it was he had with you and he never failed to remind him of it. 

Caleb had only seen you once after your first meeting. You didn’t notice him, too busy trying to get to your destination but he took notice of you. Of your exhausted state. He felt the need to stop you and demand why you looked so fatigued. He wanted nothing more than to usher you back to bed with force if needed but instead he willed himself to walk away.

Over the last few months he had a mental list forming in his head with every single detail he learnt about you. Any information learnt came from the mouth of others. You are spectacular, shining so brightly amongst them all. He should stay away, he knows that, but he can’t. He’ll apologise for it later.

Because he knows it won’t last.

It feels like eternity waiting for you to arrive. He watches the clock and counts every second. Numerous people come up to him but he pays attention to none. They all wonder why his gaze keeps drifting to the entrance. When you enter, his eyes are on you. He downs the beer in his hand and crushes the cup in his hand at the way you look. You don’t notice the desire in the eyes of all those who greet you, their every action tainted with corruption.

You’re wearing a simple black dress that ends at your thighs. Nothing extravagant or noteworthy. Except for the fact that it’s you wearing it. The dress moves up slightly with every step you take and he can see the safety shorts underneath. He doesn’t know you wore them to prevent any chafing or that you rubbed baby powder in your inner thighs just in case. You’re wearing shoes with a short heel, for practicality reasons he’s sure but he can’t help appreciate how well they compliment your legs. 

You look much better than you did the last time. Well rested and more put together. Part of him is glad for it and the other disappointed that it had not been him who helped you.

The redhead that has been by your side tries to subtly tell you about him but he notices. He has plenty of time to look away and pretend otherwise but instead he keeps his gaze with you. Caleb delights in the way your eyes widen, just a little. You turn to whisper something in your friend’s ear, she nods at you and walks away and in turn you approach him.

“Caleb, right?” you ask him. He doesn’t know that you don’t need an answer and you don’t know that you’ve ignited something in him simply by saying his name. Your lips covered in a shiny gloss look so pretty when they say his name. 

“Yeah.”

You join him and lean against the wall. You don’t look at him, instead looking around the room and surveying all the people. “How have you been so far?” It’s a question you have to ask everyone, he’s aware of it but he’ll take whatever you can give. He sighs, leaning his head back up against the wall, gaze on the ceiling. “It’s been stressful,” he drops his head back down and looks at you. “-but nothing I can’t handle.” 

You smile at him in response. 

“What course are you doing, Prez?” he asks you.

“Computer Science.”

When you don’t receive a reply, you look at the tall man beside you only to find him staring at you in slight shock.

“Pfft,” you can’t help but laugh at his expression. “I’m guessing you too, huh?”

He nods, his voice far too weak from your laugh to function. Pride settles in him, he made you laugh. 

“Do you have Mr Wrestly as well?”

At the name he can’t help but let out an involuntary groan which only makes you laugh harder. “He picks on me all the time. I don’t think he likes me very much,” seeing him pout only makes him more endearing to you.

“Yeah, he did it to me too. I felt so stupid every single time until I learnt that he only does it to those who show potential,” you reassure him. His eyes light up at your words. “Really?” He reminds you of a puppy right then and there, one who you’ve just given a bone. “Really,” you confirm.

You understand his reaction, getting a hit after another to your intelligence was not a fun experience. “But still, I’m glad I don’t have him this year.” 

It’s silent for a while.

“So…,” he starts and trails off. “-that means you’re graduating this year, right?”

“Yup.”

Truth be told you’ve been trying not to think about it. The future seems so scary, especially since you have no plans in motion. Right now all you have is to apply to some internships and go from there. 

“I don’t really see you as a CompSci major,” you admit to him.

“It gives you extra credits for the Aerospace Academy,” he informs.

“Ah. I can definitely see you as a pilot.”

There’s a childlike wonder in his eyes. “Yeah, I’ve wanted to be one since I was a kid.”

Your finger reaches up and traces the outline of his collarbone through his shirt, his breath catches in his throat. You make a point to not return his gaze, only doing so when you utter your next words. “It’s a good thing you’ve got someone who can share all her notes,” you pause. “As long as you’re good.”

His hand moves fast to capture your finger, you give a soft tug giving up when his hold tightens in response. His head moves closer to yours, until you can feel his breath mingling with yours. 

“Oh, really?” it comes out as a whisper but his voice has deepened. There’s a slight smirk painted on his lips and his eyes are dark and hooded as they rest on you.

“Really.”

He tugs you into some empty room, shutting the door behind him. His lips are on you before you can say a word. The two of you lose yourself in the other. You have more experience so you lead but he’s a fast learner. In a sudden move you pull away from him, making sure to keep a distance. He looks a little dumbfounded at your change in attitude.

“I can taste the alcohol in your mouth, Caleb. How much have you had to drink?” you ask him gently. He chuckles - despite the relief that it wasn’t because you regret it - and his arms wrap around you before he pulls you to him. “Not even enough to feel buzzed,” he nuzzles his head into your shoulder. 

“Hmm,” you contemplate. “I’m still not taking any chances.” You want to concede when the man lifts his head up and pouts. “If you’re serious then kiss me again when you don’t have anything in your system.”

“Yes ma’am.” 

Caleb finds you again on day two after the party. It would’ve been one but he didn’t want to seem desperate. He waits for you outside the building of your class, not saying a single word as he approaches. All he does is kiss you.

Neither of you have any experience with relationships. You think you might have been moving too fast but it should be okay, right? You two feel so strongly about the other and that isn’t for no reason. Any doubts are shoved away.

A month goes by and life is nice. 

You’ve hosted more events for the university and each of them have done well. Some could’ve been better however you’re determined to not let it ruin your mood instead using them as a learning experience. 

Caleb and you are still navigating your relationship.

You live in a one bedroom apartment off campus. Any free time he has, Caleb spends it there. He never spends the night. He’s determined to change that.

You have a research paper due in a week. Normally you would do it the day before while panicking as if you didn’t put yourself in that situation. You can’t do that this time, you’ll be busy then. Caleb lounges on your bed as you sit by your desk.

It’s silent. The only sounds are from your keyboard or the odd rustling of pages moving. You don’t notice the silent plotting brewing in the man’s head.

“It’s nearly 8pm,” he tells you. “I should head back.”

You give a hum in response, flicking your hand up to say goodbye.

Caleb knows how you can get when you’re focused so he doesn’t take it to heart. Your ears pick up the sound of him getting up from the bed. He lets out a small sigh. You don’t say anything. He finds his socks on the floor and puts one on with another sigh. You don’t say anything. He puts the other on and sighs again, this time a little louder. You don’t say anything. His eye twitches, he grabs his shoes and puts them on with a big sigh. You don’t even move.

“Yup. I’m going back to the dorms because my girlfriend hates me.”

You swivel around in your chair and stare at him with a deadpan expression. He bats his eyelashes at you.

Your lips quirk in amusement. “Why don’t you just stay the night, Caleb? You’ll be back here in the morning anyway,” you play along, giving in to him. But your heart is light as his expression changes. He kicks off his shoes and plops back down on the bed. 

Thinking everything is dealt with, you turn back around only for a hand to clench around your chair and pull it towards the bed. “Wha-” you jump in surprise. An arm pulls you and you land on your back on the bed. The perpetrator hovers above you with a satisfied smirk. The second your lips begin to move, kisses are being peppered onto your face, an effective way to shut you up. 

His lips are on yours. The kiss is different from the others you’ve shared. This one is slow as he takes his time, savouring every moment. His hands reach to tug your hoodie and he pulls his mouth away. You’re both breathing hard. His hand digs into your bed sheets as he tries to restrain himself. The air around you has changed, growing thick from the tension. He doesn’t say anything but you hear the question. You nod. Any control he has is gone as he recaptures your lips in a frenzy.

The next day you wake up from light traces all over your body. Your joints ache and your shoulder and neck throb from the markings. You’re bundled up in his arms. Caleb smiles at you when he sees you’re awake, leaning in close to plant a kiss on your forehead. You can’t say a word back. Not when he looks at you like that.

Like you’re everything he’s ever needed.

You and Pen are closer than ever. She’s one of the most important people in your life so you introduce Caleb to her. The dinner seemed to have gone well. You brushed off any awkwardness, deeming it an occurrence of a first meeting.

Except before she had left, Pen had pulled you away to speak privately.

“Just be careful with that guy,” she warns you. “I know I shouldn’t judge without reason but something about him seems…off.”

“You know me, Pen. First sign of trouble and I run,” you smile in an attempt to comfort her. She gives you a weak one back. “I know you can take care of yourself but you’re different with him.” You look at her in confusion. She takes a deep breath, unsure if she should continue but for your sake she does. “You like him [Name], a lot. No…I think you love him. I-I just don’t see this ending well and I don’t want you getting hurt.” 

While you’re too busy spiralling over her words, especially as they ring true, she watches you. What she doesn’t say is that your biggest weakness will always be the way you love. Platonic or not. It’s rare for you to get attached to a person but when you do, it’s intense. Not in an overbearing way but because you kept your heart in a cage and you’d only let in those who you deemed worthy. After that you would love freely, thinking everything would be okay, not realising that people can change or that they might’ve been lying to you from the start. 

She’d been by your side (and you her’s) through all your friendship breakups, she saw the way you grieved the loss. The sheer anguish you felt would leave her paralysed. But you had never fallen in love romantically before. Pen doesn’t think she could handle how it would affect you. It just might kill her. 

She doesn’t know if shining a light on your feelings had the effect she wanted.

And it doesn’t.

You ignore her warning, Caleb hasn’t given you a reason to doubt him. All the conversation did was make you realise how deep your feelings ran. You itch to say it to him but at the same time something holds you back.

The topic of family comes up one night. You don’t go into much detail about yours, alluding to the fact that your home life wasn’t the best. Thankfully he doesn’t push for more. He tells you about his adoptive sister, how they grew up together and that he cares for her a lot. 

What you don’t know about is the turmoil inside Caleb’s head. When he’s with you, he forgets all about her. He doesn’t think about what she’s doing and if everything is alright. He doesn’t forget you when he’s with her. You’re always there in his heart, mind and soul. But then his phone will ping with a message from her while he’s watching a movie with you, asking why he hasn’t been responding. In those moments, he thinks he’ll drown in the shame and guilt and then you look his way and give that angelic smile he adores. He wonders how long he can do this for.

It’s now nearly the end of the year. He’s gone back home while you remain in Skyhaven during your last break in the school year. His family doesn’t know he’s dating you, Caleb sneaks away when you call. It all comes to an end when she pulls him away with a confession.

“I feel like you’ve been distant, Caleb,” her eyes shine with unshed tears. His body moves on its own to cup her face. “What do you mean, Pipsqueak?” 

“Do you have a girlfriend?” she struggles to even ask the question. All he can do is wrap his arms around her and say no.

His resolve to end things washes away when you’re waiting for him at the train station. You smile and hug him. She’s forgotten again. It’s an endless cycle. 

One that you end up breaking.

He’s standing before a bright green tree, waiting for you. Your tree. The one you went to for peace. The one you had shared with him.

“Surprise!” a figure jumps on him. He recognises the voice. He’s too caught up in the joy to feel dread.

You see the distant figure of your boyfriend. A smile breaks onto your face as you walk faster but you halt when another figure runs towards him. She jumps at him and he catches her with ease. You see it all.

The way he looks at her. How easily she jumps into his arms and he returns it with a serene smile. The emotions and love you thought had been reserved for you are being displayed. In that moment you remember Pen’s warning. Your heart twists as you realise she had been right. How did she see it before you?

You feel so humiliated. It had been right in front of you. How he would always excuse himself to answer her call, no matter the situation. How soft he was when he’d talk about their childhood together. That ugly necklace that was constantly around his neck.

Your steps are slow as you walk up to them. They turn to look at you and Caleb jolts. “[Name]!” He knows it’s over when he sees the look in your eyes. His heart is beating so fast he can hear it drumming in his ears. 

Thinking you’re a simple friend, she reaches her hand out and introduces herself. For a split second you want to hate her. But it’s not her fault. You return the handshake and introduce yourself. 

“Hey, pips? Why don’t you wait for me in the cafeteria? I need to talk to [Name].”

Unaware of the tension in the air, she agrees and leaves but not before letting you know it was nice to meet you. 

You don’t say a word, waiting for an explanation.

“I’m sorry.” 

The guilt on his face means nothing to you, not anymore. Caleb’s hands twitch, he wants nothing but to beg for forgiveness. To get on his knees and promise his devotion. But the blank look on your face has him frozen.

“Why?”

“What?”

“Why did you even date me?” you speak the words with a venom he’s never heard before. “Was I just a distraction?” you continue.

“Wha-No! You were never a-”

“Or was I meant to stop others from realising you have feelings for your own fucking sister?” 

“I didn’t tell anyone we’re dating.”

“Oh! Even better. But you can’t even deny your feelings for her are true.”

“I’m sorry.”

You let out a cold laugh. “You already said that. I want an explanation.” 

But he can’t give it to you. He doesn’t have the answer himself. So, you’ll force them out.

“Choose.”

He looks at you in alarm.

“Me or her? Pick one.”

You already know the answer but you need to hear it. Even if by some miracle he chooses you, you’ll never pick him. Never again.

Flashes of images go through his head. Of her laying on the cold floor with no heartbeat. The fear in her eyes. The anger coursing through him. Their shared cries and pain.

“It’ll always be her.”

His face stings from the force of your slap. He welcomes the pain, it’s what he deserves.

“You’re a coward, Caleb.” You take a step closer. “A weak, pathetic, coward.” 

It’s you who physically walks away. You’re numb as you do. All you can focus on is that…

He ruined your tree. Ruined your peace.

Caleb returns to her with a fake grin plastered on his face. No one notices the trembling in his hands or the slight shakiness in his voice.

You don’t see each other for the rest of the school year. In public you’re the same as always but in private you break down. You have no words to describe how you feel. One day you had been so mad that you ripped all the photos you had taken with him. The next you cried over the discarded paper. 

Pen is the only one who knows you’re a mess. She tries her best to comfort you. 

“[Name] our final exams are next week,” she cradles your head in her hands. “You can’t let him dull your shine. Not now.”

They’re not the words you want to hear but the ones you need. 

You bottle up your emotions after that. Keeping the lid shut tight. 

You ace your exams and graduate. Happy to never see this place again. Once it had been home to you but now everything about it was tinted with him.

You’re completely unaware as purple eyes watch you in the crowd as you accept your degree and give a speech. How they drink in your smile, laugh and mannerisms. How they are laced with regret.

Even if you did, you wouldn’t care. Not anymore.

Back in the present, you’ve lifted yourself off the floor and have sat down on the bed as you process your(?) memories. The clock on the nightstand reads 3:00AM.

The emotions your other self had years to process are now raw within you. You’re not sure if the shakiness of your body is from the rage simmering inside or the tears making their way down your face.

It’s hard to come to terms with the fact that your comfort character had done all this. Bile rises in your throat, suddenly you feel so disgusted in yourself. You feel used.

The toilet flushes and you turn on the fans in the bathroom to get rid of the smell of vomit. With slow steps you make your way to the bedroom. You look over the decorations and the size of it. At least in this life you’re rich. 

You don’t know what to make of this situation. You can no longer delude yourself that it is all a dream. It’s your new reality. You want to go back home. Back to your old life. It wasn’t the best but it also wasn’t this shitshow.

For fucks sake, you have a kid! 

You don’t know the first thing about raising a child! All you have are your memories, you’re overtaken by panic.

You leave the bedroom. The hallways are dark but you don’t bother turning the lights back on. You have the floorplan mapped in your head. You take a couple steps right to avoid a table and find yourself standing before a room. Stickers decorate the door. Sparkles and glitters. There’s a big sign on the door. ‘EVE’ is all it says. She had decorated it herself as best as a two-year old could.

You slowly turn the door handle and peek inside. There’s a small frame bundled on the bed. You can see the rise and fall of her chest even under her blanket. The sight of her fills you with peace. All panic is forgotten. 

You know exactly where to step so the floorboard doesn't creak. You settle down onto the bed with her, pulling her to your chest. She doesn’t awaken but instead rests deeper into your chest. You caress her head. Maybe this life isn’t so bad after all.

At age twenty you had graduated and found yourself stuck. You had done a bunch of internships after but none stuck with you. One day you had been on the bus, dozing off when you overheard a conversation between two school girls. One of them made an off hand comment about how annoying it was to have so many apps for different things. It didn’t come to you straight away but the girl’s comment stayed with you for a while.

It should’ve been hard to get investors but the reputation you had gained from TELL had been your saviour. Plenty of interest was shown. The first person you brought on was Pen. A way to pay back the friendship and support she had always shown you. She became the lead designer for the app interface.

It’s how Moment’s was born. It’s weird that you designed the very app used to communicate with the love interests themselves. 

It’s also how you met him.

Elijah Kennedy.

One of your investors.

You didn’t care for him much at first.

He was attractive, tall with blonde hair and the most majestic brown eyes you’d ever seen, especially under the sunlight. You never really paid much attention to him, all he was is a means to an end. Elijah wasn’t your type, too stoic for your taste. But then, during a meeting he accidentally let slip that he found you pretty and his face got so red. He spluttered on his drink and tried but failed to rectify the situation.

Unlike Caleb who had made your heart beat fast, Elijah made it stutter. 

Something changed between you two after that. It was quiet and subtle. Suddenly he was asking you more personal questions and you found yourself answering them. Your meetings started taking place over dinner. Light touches that lingered. 

Until one day he tried to ask you on a date but stuttered so much he couldn’t even get the words out. With a teasing smile, you had asked the question for him. 

You told him the truth then. That you had been hurt so bad you don’t think you could take a chance again. Elijah confided in you about his ex-girlfriend, who had cheated, in return. Maybe it's because you saw kinship in the other but the rest of the night was spent laying bare all your hurt. It had been therapeutic for Elijah, who felt he would be looked down upon for being so upset, and you, who had to bottle everything up just so you could function.

You didn’t date right away. A friendship started first. Your relationship built slowly. When you two first shared a kiss, it felt so right. Then you went on a date and started dating. After a year, you got married. Pen ended up being your maid of honour. She gave you her approval for Elijah a month into dating and you’ve learnt to listen to her. 

Shortly after the honeymoon, you found yourself in the bathroom with a positive pregnancy test. Your hands shook as you stared down at the stick, anxiety pooling in your gut. It was too fast. It was all happening too fast. 

You’d learnt nothing from the last time and here you are repeating the same mistakes.

When Elijah finds you on the bathroom floor and tries his best to reassure that everything will be okay, that he’s not going anywhere, the feeling never goes away.

Not even during the pregnancy, or after you gave birth and even when you celebrated Eve’s first birthday. It disappeared when you got the news that your Elijah had been in a car accident. Dead on arrival. 

You had been right.

Why did you have to be right?

Eve’s two now, it’s been a year since his passing. It’s a weird sensation to grieve someone so hard yet still feel like they’re a stranger. You sniffle into your daughter’s blonde hair, a few tears escape. 

Around the time you had been grieving your husband, you received an email. It had been from her. An invitation to a funeral. There was a line of text at the bottom, ‘He would want you there.’

You didn’t go.

The sound of the doorbell drums through the house.

You don’t get up.

It rings again.

And again.

Until you finally move out of frustration.

She looks concerned at your state. She’s wearing simple clothing, not a hair out of place. While your eyes are bloodshot from all the crying, your skin dry from the salty tears. Everything about your appearance is a mess. Not that you even care.

But you recognise the look in her eyes. She’s a mess just like you, only on the inside.

Neither of you say a word. With a roll of your eyes, you open the door for her and walk inside. The house too, is a mess. Eve’s toys are littered all over the floor of the living room, you grab a basket and start dumping them back in there.

She lingers at the large family photo. “I-I knew you were doing very well for yourself. There was no mention of you getting married or…that you have a child.”

“Yeah? Well, he died too. That’s two for two now. I just might be cursed,” you chuckle darkly as you throw Poppy the Unicorn a little too harshly into the basket. You’ll need to apologise later or Eve won’t be happy.

You feel her gaze on you as you move around the room, trying to clean whatever you could. 

“I’m sorry. I had no idea. I think I should just go,” she turns to leave.

“Wait,” at your command she looks back. “Just say what it is you want to and then go,” you gesture at the couch. “Besides it’s not like my day can get any worse,” you mutter softly but she still hears every word.

You sit before her, arms crossed and wait for her to speak.

“I came to apologise.”

Her words shock you.

“Really? I thought you came to yell at me for missing the funeral.”

“No!” her eyes widened in alarm. It’s a comical sight, one that might have made you laugh once. “It’s my fault. I’m the reason it all happened. Back then, I felt him pull away so I asked if he had a girlfriend. I didn’t know he actually did. It never occurred to me that he would ever get one.”

“It’s not your fault nor did I ever blame you for anything,” you wave her off. You can tell from her expression that the answer isn’t enough. “You were a child who didn’t know any better. He went from being around every day to being gone for months. It would’ve been hard to adjust for anyone. Any blame is on him. He should have never gotten in a relationship with me when he loved you.”

The last sentence doesn’t shock her.

“Huh. When did you realise?”

“I think I always knew,” she looks down at her hands, twiddling her fingers. “I just…forced myself to ignore it. I’ve never seen him in that way and I don’t really think he did either.” Her head is back up at you but there’s a fire in her eyes now. “I didn’t just come here to apologise. I need to tell you something.”

That gets your attention. You motion for her to continue.

“His feelings for you were real. After you graduated, something in him changed. He still took care of me the same but the intent was gone. Like it was an obligation. I think he realised it was meant to be for you but by then it was too late. He started seeing me as a sister only. He wasn’t even phased when I got my first boyfriend.”

“That doesn’t change anything.”

“I know,” she smiles weakly. “It’s selfish of me to unload this on you, especially with what you’re going through currently but I had to. For him.”

There’s some more silence.

“What’s your daughter’s name?”

“We named her Eve.”

She raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything.

“What?”

“It just doesn’t sound like a name you would pick.”

“It was Elijah’s grandmother’s name. She raised the man I came to love. It was the least I could do.”

The two of you make small talk for a while before a ping on her phone reminds her of her other plans. She bids you goodbye.

You stay on the couch, staring blankly at the wall.

Then the tears fall and you wail.

Your other self was too nice. Caleb didn’t deserve her grief especially since you know he’s still alive. 

You have no idea when you drifted off but the feeling of small hands on your face is what wakes you up. Sunlight trickles through the curtains. Brown eyes stare back at you. Eve blinks before breaking out into a huge grin now that you’re up. “Awake?’ she asks. 

You kiss her on the forehead. “Awake,” you confirm. “Hungry?” you ask back. It was a daily ritual. She nods. You lift her off the bed and enter the bathroom. She has school today. It’s easy to fall back into your other self’s routine. Every action you take is so natural that it keeps messing with your head. With no issue you enjoy your breakfast with your daughter and drive her to school. She gives you a hug goodbye and you’re left alone again. You don’t have work and you’re in the mood to be outside so the only plans you have is to sleep.

There’s a white box with a ribbon waiting on your doorstep when you arrive. A card is tucked into the ribbon. You bring the box inside.

You’ll need this

Those are the only words written on the card. You flip it over and read the words over and over again but nothing changes. They seem so certain but you’re more shocked at how calm you are. 

Inside the box is a silk dress, a shade of emerald green. You run your fingers over the material, it’s beautiful yet simple. Just the way you like it. 

The normal thing would be to experience panic in this situation but it never comes. It doesn’t make any sense. You should feel something yet you don’t. 

A melody rings through the silence. Something in your pocket vibrates. It’s your phone. You recognise the caller ID, it’s Pen. 

You pick up the call, neither of you bothers with trivial greetings. 

“We’ve been invited to an event,” her tone is off.

“I’m not going. They’re all the same.”

“Normally I wouldn’t argue but you can’t decline this one [Name].”

“Why?”

“It’s the annual Skyhaven gala. The one where all the important figures attend. People from the Farspace Fleet, military leaders and any important political figure. It’d be social suicide not to go.”

Your gaze settles on the box. “Pen, was it you who sent the dress?” it’s a shot in the dark but it just might land.

“What dress?”

You sigh. Of course it wouldn’t be that easy.

“Nothing. I just forgot I ordered one,” you divert. Pen already dealt with so much of your shit, she’s married now too and four months pregnant. She doesn’t need the extra stress. 

“Oh, okay. Come visit me later and bring my niece!”

As Pen’s voice drones off on the phone, your eyes remain on the box. You still feel nothing about the situation.

Maybe because you recognise the handwriting.

It feels like deja vu once again as his eyes continue to glance at the entrance.

He has to be careful not to give it away but he can’t deny how nervous he feels at the chance that he’ll see you again.

It took him far too long to realise how deep he had fallen for you. His entire life has revolved around her, just the way he foolishly thought he wanted. It wasn’t until you entered his life that he saw a different path. But he had been too blinded by the role he forced upon himself to notice. After all she had been through, the least he could do was ensure a good life for her. Everything was her, her, her…

But as she grew up, she needed him less and less. He tried so hard to hold on unaware that he was suffocating them both in the process. Then, you came in and slowly his grip loosened. It was entirely his fault that he had been too much of a coward to let go. You had been right to call him one.

Caleb can’t begin to imagine the pain and suffering his actions caused you. All of it made worse by the fact that he knew it would end that way, yet he let it happen. 

He’s missed you so much these last few years. You were in everything. The warm rays of the sun reminded him of the way you would glow under the sun’s embrace. The moon made him reminisce of all the times you would take him stargazing. He saw parts of you in everyone. Your smile. Frown. Laugh. 

It was the betrayal on your face he saw before the explosion. Memories of kissing you were what he held onto as he healed. The sensation of your hand clasped in his would make him cry at the arm he lost. Even now, as the chip whirs in his head, you’re the reason he hasn’t lost himself. You’re why he’s still holding on. He needs you, you’ve become his salvation.

Caleb can no longer give you a choice in the matter. 

Not when you had moved on. You kept your personal life private but as the Colonel it was easy for him to access any information on you. He’s glad your…husband (he struggles to even think the word) died, one less thing for Caleb to take care of. 

Then you walk in.

You’re a little taller now. Even when you’re all dressed up, he can see the exhaustion in your eyes. Taking care of a baby all by yourself can’t be easy. His eyes flicker down to your body, you’re not wearing the dress. He expected it but his gloved hand still clenches by his side.

You don’t notice him. But others notice you. They swarm around you like parasites and he can see it’s all making you overwhelmed. Your eyes dart around, trying to find someone you knew and that's when they meet his. 

He had expected you to be surprised to see him but you remain unphased. Not a single hint as to what you’re thinking is shown. It’s frustrating. This wasn’t how he wanted the evening to go.

You don’t make a move, not a single step either towards or away from him. Your gaze slips away from him as you bury yourself in another meaningless conversation.

It feels like hours have passed before you can catch a breath. You leave the floor quickly before anyone else can interrupt, heading for the upstairs floor. To your luck it’s empty. You take refuge in one of the terraces, counting the minutes until you could go home. You miss Eve. She’d been left with a babysitter, who texted you hourly updates.

The setting of the sun distracts you from your thoughts. The sky a blend of orange, purple and pink. Beautiful. 

“Did you not like the dress?”

You hadn’t heard him at all. You don’t turn around to see his face.

“It was hideous.”

His steps indicate that he’s right next to you. You hear his clothes rustle as he rests his hand on the railings, just like you are. To think that the sight of him in the uniform used to be so enticing and now he’s standing before you. He’s real. You can feel the warmth radiating off his body. Yet all you feel is fear. 

“I’ll do better next time,” his gaze digs. It’s like a flashlight shining on your face, when all you can do is look away to avoid going blind.

“There better not be a next time.” Your body moves on its own. Your hand grasps hard on his upper arm. His breath hitches when he feels your touch. It’s been so long. It’s not enough. 

You dig your nails further into the material, not caring that it does nothing. “Leave me the fuck alone.”

You don’t see the way his eyes harden at the gold ring around your finger.

You release his arm and storm off.

Shivers run through you as you feel him watch you leave.

You know this isn’t the last time. 

A week goes by.

And you spend it on edge every single day. Your paranoia gets the better of you. You call and let Eve’s school know you’re going on a trip so she won’t be in. You do the same for work. The two of you spend it at home. 

You can’t keep this up for long. Soon, questions will start being asked. Yet the fear of running into Caleb again leaves you paralysed. 

A phone call from your assistant comes as soon as the weekend is over. Her voice is laced with panic as she begs you to come in. There’s a huge issue with the app.

You have no choice but to call the babysitter on short notice, promising to pay extra for the emergency. 

Pen is waiting for you when you enter. She gives you a guilty smile. “If it wasn’t urgent we wouldn’t have cut your vacation short,” she says as you walk to your office.

“It’s fine.” It’s not. “What happened that’s so bad you had to call me?”

You gesture for her to sit on your chair. It’s far more comfortable for a pregnant woman. You sit on one of the armchairs opposite. Not as nice but the exhale Pen gives out of relief is worth it. You make a mental note to order a chair just like it for her office. And to get better armchairs. 

She plops a file on the desk. “What isn’t happening? Something is wrong with the servers but we’re slowly managing it. I have to go pee every second, I don’t know how you did this. But the real issue is that the app keeps crashing. Something’s wrong with the code but no matter how much we dig, we can’t find it.”

You sigh and lean back into the chair. Your hand comes up to drag down your face. “How much have we lost?”

She doesn’t answer.

“That bad?”

She pauses and mouths ‘worse’ at you. 

Great. 

“Your phone’s been ringing all morning too. I’m sure it’s the board members,” she slowly gets up and makes her way out the door but not before patting you on the shoulder. 

You spend the next hour on the phone, apologizing and promising to fix the issue to each individual member. You’re left holding your head as you try to massage the headache. This used to be fun, back when the app was just an idea. Somewhere along the way you started dreading coming into work. You’re not made to be like this. You’re meant to create.

What was it they used to say?

Never turn your hobby into real work. 

Wow, you really have a habit of not listening to advice. 

You order your assistant to buy everyone whatever they desire for lunch and dinner before heading down to the programming teams. They’re not enthusiastic about the situation but who can deny overtime. 

Morale seems higher when they learn that you’ll be staying back with them. It was your baby at risk after all.

Your eyes are about to pop from the strain, you’ve been staring at a screen for hours. And then you come across it. One single line. Nudged into the code. That nearly destroyed years of hard work.

12 5 20 19 20 1 12 11 

The numbers stare back at you. They confuse you. It makes no sense for them to be there. It’s not actual programming. Unless they were deliberately written in…

Your mind runs through all possibilities of what the numbers mean, each one more complicated than the last. But, what if it’s not difficult? You blankly gaze at the numbers.

No way. It can’t be that simple. 

Your hand reaches for a pen and you scribble down onto a notepad. 

12=L, 5=E, 20=T, 19=S, 20=T, 1=A, 12=L, 11=K

‘Let’s talk’ 

Your hand scrunches the paper into a ball, it remains in there. The other grasps the pen so hard that it breaks in your hand. Blue ink explodes all over the desk. 

It takes several deep breaths to calm down. You still see red as you highlight the issue and email your team to fix it.

With no second thoughts, you rush back home. You can’t stay in Skyhaven any longer. 

It’s eerily quiet when you enter your house.

Usually the babysitter would be waiting on the couch for you. The living room is completely empty and a mess. There are still dishes from the sink indicating that Eve had lunch at least. Your intuition screams that something is wrong. You grab a knife from the block, slowly making your way through the house, checking every room as you go on. The only one remaining is Eve’s bedroom. The light is on.

Your mind begs you to not go in but it surrenders, for Eve’s sake. 

The door opens with a light creak from your touch. He’s sitting on the armchair in her room. The same one Elijah used to sit on with her. Caleb has your daughter in his arms. She’s fast asleep, seeing her unharmed brings you some relief. It snaps when his hand reaches to brush hair away from her face. 

“Let her go!” You try to rush at him but something immobilizes you, like you’re getting crushed by something. The knife you were carrying clatters on the ground.

“Shhh,” he brings a finger up to his lips. “Do you want to wake her up?”

“I sent the babysitter home. She didn’t put up much of a fight when I threatened to arrest her. Don’t get mad at her, she didn’t have a choice.” His voice is too calm. He doesn’t even look at you, gaze fixed on Eve. “I didn’t know what I was going to do with her at first,” he admits then he looks at you. “She’s your daughter but she looks just like that bastar-” 

“Don’t call him that,” the words escape from your mouth before you can stop that.

His hand on her stills. You watch as the emotion dies down in his eyes. The same notion you saw play out on your phone, when MC refused to go with him. His possessiveness had you swooning then. You had cried for him, for the tragic story they shared. It didn’t excuse his actions but you could understand them. None of that is present here. None of this should even be happening. There are no excuses for him anymore. 

“I was going to give her away, so I could have you to myself.” He doesn’t respond to your remark, you wish he did so you didn’t have to listen to those words. You gasp and open your mouth to plead but he cuts you off. “All I had to do was spend two hours with her. She might look like him but everything else is from you. She smiled at me the way you used to.”

You look away from the sickening devotion on his face. It’s disgusting. 

Caleb isn’t pleased by your disrespect. He knows how to finish the blow. “She asked me if I was her father. She doesn’t even remember him.” He gives you a soft smile. “I told her yes.”

He gets up from the chair and walks over to her bed, placing her down gently on the bed. He makes sure the blanket covers her before turning to you.

“I’ll admit there’s another reason I’m letting her stay. To keep you in line.”

He takes slow steps towards you, like a hunter taking his time to end his prey.

You can’t help the tears running down your face. His gloved hand reaches up to wipe a tear away. “Don’t cry,” he whispers, his evol stops just so he can bring you into his arms, comforting you like he isn’t the cause. He doesn’t use it again, he has you right where he wants. 

“Why are you doing this?” the words come out hoarse.

He brings your head back up, both hands cradling your cheeks, level to his face. “Because I’ll go insane without you.” His thumb rubs circles on the skin underneath. Each touch is more revolting than the last.

“You’re already insane,” you whisper. 

Caleb lets out a soft laugh. “I can be worse than this,” his demeanour is gentle but you know it’s a warning.

“It’s not just Eve, [Name]. I’ll go after everyone you love. Penelope will be the first. Do you think a pregnant woman can survive the fleet’s harsh interrogation methods?”

Your eyes widen even more. “No, no, she has nothing to do with this. Leave her alone. Please, Caleb.”

He groans when you say his name. Your bodies are pressed so close that you can feel him get excited. It takes everything to not rip yourself from his hold.

“Then promise you’ll be mine. Say it.”

You don’t respond, taking your time to say the words. But you don’t even get to make that choice as his eyes slowly lose the spark.

“I-I’ll be yours, Caleb.”

His mouth is on yours. You make no move against him or to stop him. His lips press deeper into yours, his tongue darts out in an attempt to make you open your mouth. You don’t. A sound rumbles from him, like a growl before a sharp pain erupts on the corner of your lips. He bites you so hard you can feel the skin rip and the blood drip. You try to jerk your head back but his hold on your face tightens, enough to bruise. The yelp you give from the pain gives him the access he needs. 

“Kiss back,” he growls and this time you know to listen.

When he finally pulls away, you’re left trembling as you struggle to breath. Your blood coats his mouth, making him look like the monster he truly is. He has that blank look again. His finger caresses the scab forming on your lips before pressing down hard enough for you to hiss in pain.

“When your partner kisses you, you’re supposed to do it back, [Name]. Don’t make me do this again.”

You nod, too tired to fight. Not like you even can. His behaviour shifts again at your obedience. “Good girl,” he praises.

He looks around Eve’s room. 

“Pack your bags. Enough for a couple of days. You’re moving in with me.” It’s an order, one you can’t refuse. 

Caleb watches with unconcealed satisfaction as you follow his command. 

It’s been a week since you entered this hell hole. 

Just like in the main story, his apartment is devoid of anything that isn’t grey. It’s soulless, just like its owner.

He tells you to decorate to your taste and for Eve’s sake, you have to. Kids can’t grow up in a stale environment. 

Speaking of Eve, she’s smitten with the man. You die a little inside every time she calls him Dad. Elijah only exists in your memories now. Caleb had taken one look at your wedding photos before burning them. Seeing the daily routine of her running into his arms when he comes back from work is torture. He’ll hold her in his arms before coming up to you and placing a kiss on your forehead. Then you give a smile that you both know is fake. It’s all an act.

Luckily, the collar around your neck is invisible. You’re free to come and go as you please. No one in your life has any idea what you’re going through and it’ll remain that way. Pen asked you once if everything was okay, you brush her concern off and tell her you just miss Elijah. 

On your second day in his house, you had asked him about work.

“As long as you behave.”

It’s yet another thing he holds over you. 

It’s Monday morning now. As you wake up, it’s to the sounds of something sizzling in the kitchen. Caleb had a rare day off, he had pushed you back on the bed when you tried to leave, claiming he’ll get Eve ready and take her to school. You had no choice but to remain in bed until you fell back asleep.

You share the bedroom with him. It’s the largest in his apartment. The one he was supposed to give to MC. Every night you go to bed without him and every morning you wake up to him tightly wrapped around you. You ignore the feeling of it pressed up against you, just glad he doesn’t act on it.

He still kisses you. A deep kiss before he leaves that always ends in a make out, leaving you breathless and panting each time. He looks at you in a way like he’s contemplating throwing you on the counter and having his way. Something always stops him, he ends up reaching for his hat, placing it on his head to hide the hunger in his eyes, before leaving. 

You worry about the day he won’t hold back. 

You make your way to the bathroom and do your morning routine. You remain in your pajamas, throwing on a robe before you enter the kitchen.

Caleb’s standing shirtless, clad only in plaid pajamas bottoms. He’s grown even more muscular from the last time you saw him at university. He doesn’t tell you about the scars on his body or why he no longer has an arm unaware you already know the answer. You have yet to see him wear that necklace. For a few seconds, you try to make yourself believe this is a normal domestic scene, desperate to make this easier for you but you can’t. You just can’t. 

You want that brown hair to be blonde. You don’t want to look at purple eyes that resemble galaxies, you want deep brown eyes staring back at you. 

“Good morning,” he doesn’t turn around, busy flipping a pancake.

“Morning,” you say back, walking closer to the kitchen island and taking a seat on the barstool. There’s a laminated paper on it. You bring it closer to you so you can read. ‘Certification of Marriage’ is typed at the top in big fancy letters. You stop reading when you see yours and Caleb’s full names next. 

“What did you do?” you whisper. It feels like there’s a ball stuck in your throat.

He turns the stove off, finished with the last pancake. Taking his time to answer, he sets up the counter for breakfast. You know better than to push him. It doesn’t stop your hands from shaking.

“It’s only normal for couples to get married, honey,” he says to you like you’re stupid. Then he steps closer and grasps your hands in his. The action lets you notice the gold ring glinting on his ring finger. “I might not be your first husband but I’ll certainly be your last.”

When your expression doesn’t mimic his excited one, he gives you a sly grin. “Notice anything different,” his eyes focus on the ring in your hand. You look down, nothing about it had seemed off originally. It had always remained in the corner of your mind, never in your focus since you had already gotten used to it being there. But as you look deeper you notice differences. It’s a bit thicker and the gold is brighter than normal. It doesn’t look like it’s been worn for years.

It’s not your ring.

Caleb lets you snatch your hands out of his, he says nothing as you yank the ring off. You look for the inscription inside, begging inside to whatever gods that exist that is all a trick. That it’s still the ring Elijah gave you.

‘Forever yours’ is nowhere to be seen. ‘Eternity’ is written instead.

“When did yo-”

“While you were sleeping. You’re a very deep sleeper, you know? Could do whatever I want to you.”

You get the message. With no other words you put the ring back on your finger. All you can give him is a strained smile. “It’s beautiful,” you say as you cry. 

One night when Caleb enters the apartment, she’s trailing behind him.

Her eyes look at you in surprise. You’re sitting on the couch with Eve in your arms, watching some princess movie she was obsessed with. As your daughter sees him, she rushes out of your arms to hug him.

Caleb drops her luggage down and welcomes her in his arms. 

Eve has never been a shy kid, so she walks over the young girl and tugs on her pants. “I’m Eve!” 

The girl crouches down and pats her head before introducing herself. In that moment Caleb makes his way to you, crouching down before you. “She has some business here in Skyhaven. Is it okay if she stays until then, pretty?” 

His question leaves you dumbfounded. Why would he need your permission?

“It’s fine,” you respond. He leaves a kiss on your hand before walking back to them. His hand comes down to pat Eve’s head. “You can call her Auntie, sweetheart. She’s my sister.” Eve’s eyes go wide in wonder. 

It makes you a little happy. All you could give Eve was one aunt, your real family could burn for all you care. 

“Choose any room you like. Except our bedroom and Eve’s,” Caleb lets her know.

That causes your eyebrow to raise. So, he wouldn’t be giving up his room to her like he originally had. And even though she looks so confused why you’re there, she asks nothing. You suppose she’s already too busy trying to grapple with him being alive. 

The dinner you all had together that night was so awkward. Eve gave a tired yawn in the baby chair. “You tired, baby?” you coo at her, slightly pinching her chubby cheeks. She gives you a tired nod. 

You don’t notice the adoring look Caleb sends your way but the girl sitting next to him does. 

“I’ll take her bed,” he says, getting up and carrying Eve, who makes herself at home in his arms. You watch as they enter her bedroom.

“I suppose you’ve forgiven him then.”

Her voice catches your attention. For a moment, you contemplate telling her the truth but you have no idea what Caleb will do in response. She still doesn’t know that she’s in a snake’s nest but she’ll come to that conclusion herself.

“Something like that.”

You get up and put the dishes in the sink. Her mouth opens and closes a couple of times, trying to come up with a suitable question but it's interrupted by Caleb coming back. He sits back down next to her and they start talking. All you need to do is hear the words ‘Kevi’ and ‘lockdown’ to mentally check out. You’ve never been one to disassociate before but it’s how you survive in this place.

You jump a little when muscular arms wrap around you. You hear his chuckle as he presses a kiss on your shoulder. “Missed you at work today,” he mumbles against your shirt. “You say that everyday,” you quip. 

“Cause it’s true everyday.” 

His hands uncurl just so he can feel every part of your stomach, they explore, kneading the skin as they go. You turn the sink off. 

The tip of his nose nuzzles into your nape before he replaces it with his mouth. You yelp when he bites down, not from pain since he’s being gentle but from shock. Thinking otherwise, his mouth lets go before you feel him kiss the bite, his way of apologising. But then the kisses trail off, to any part of your neck he can find. You bite your lip to try and keep the noises in but a small whimper escapes when his tongue licks a stripe down your neck. 

“Caleb I don-”

“I know,” comes a husky reply. “I won’t go further than this.” Not yet.

He tugs you into your shared bedroom, not bothering to let you change. You lay together on the bed, with him practically pulling you on top of him. He absentmindedly traces shapes on your back, soothing you to sleep.

The glass makes contact with the floor and shatters.

Eve cries out of fear in your hold and you try to comfort her.

“Did that calm you down?”

You wait for him to say that. It never comes. The pats you’re giving Eve come to a stop as you stare at the rage on Caleb’s face. He’s mad at her. He shouldn’t be, not in this scene. 

His hand reaches for her wrist in such a tight hold that you wince with her. Eve shakes in your arms.

“Are you crazy?” he says through gritted teeth. “That could’ve hit them!” His voice booms through the room. Eve’s cries become louder.

Her eyes widen and her head snaps to you. “I-I didn’t mean-I’m sorry.”

“CALEB!” you force out. You hate yelling. You hate fighting. That’s when you realise you’re shaking too. You promised yourself as a kid, staring at the bruises on your arms, that you would never let your children be scared in their own home. You couldn’t even keep that promise. 

The sound of your voice breaks him out of his rage. 

“You’re the one scaring Eve right now. Let her go. You’re hurting her!”

He lets her arm go. She’s quick to let go and assess the damage. It’s red and you can see imprints of Caleb’s fingers. It’ll definitely bruise. 

Caleb stares down at the arm that hurt her. He wishes it was the mechanical one. It’s not. 

“P-pips, I-”

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence as she pushes her way past him back to her room. You make eye contact with her but neither of you say a word. He stares at you, lost. But you’re the same. He’s not supposed to act this way. He shouldn’t be putting you above her. It’s unnatural. It goes against everything he is.

There’s nothing you can say to comfort him, you walk away and bring Eve into her room. She cries and hiccups and all you can do is repeat ‘I’m sorry’ over and over again as you press kisses into her hair.

A few days after the incident occurred pass by and tensions have started to melt away.

The two are still a little on edge around each other but you see it in their eyes. They still care for each other. Caleb had apologised profusely to Eve the next day, taking her out for ice cream. The little girl forgave him too quickly for your taste. You’ll have to teach her better when she grows up. 

Currently Eve is at school and Caleb at his job, not much was needed for you at work so you’re back. You laze on the dining chair, your mind is clear for once. But peace never lasts long for you. She enters the apartment, out of breath.

You stare at her and wait.

“He’s keeping you here, isn’t he?”

“And ten points goes to the winner,” you clap. “What would you like for your reward?”

“Help. I’d like help.”

She sits in front of you, launching into details about the toring chip in his head. What it is and what it does. The professor that did it to him. She tells you about what Kevi has become. All of it you already know.

She looks at you for a reaction but you keep your blank expression.

“And it matters to me, why?”

Her expression falters. “B-because it means he’s doing this under the chip's influence. It’s not his fault! We can help him!”

“We?” you raise an eyebrow. “Okay, let’s say I’m willing to entertain this. You said the chip could wipe all his emotions?”

She nods.

“Good.”

“W-what…?”

“I hope that fucking happens. After everything he’s put me through, it’s what he deserves.”

“Don’t you get it? If we find a way to get rid of the chip then he’ll go back to normal. He’ll let you go.”

“No, he won’t,” you lean back in the chair. “You don’t see it because you’re still blinded by the man you think he is. The chip didn’t give him this…infatuation out of nowhere. It just took away the resolve that stopped him from acting on it. Which is why it’s best that the chip works, if he doesn’t feel then he’ll let me go.” 

She stares at you in horror. 

“Did you really believe I would want to help him?” you scoff. “That’s cruel, especially from you. Are you sure you’re a hunter?” you shake your head at her. “Maybe you two are more alike than you think.”

She stares down at her hands, her hair covers her face so you can’t see what expression she’s wearing. You wait for her to start yelling but it doesn’t happen.

“...You’re right,” she admits. When she lifts her head back up, tears are running down her face. “I just want him back, the way he used to be. Even if it meant looking the other way.” 

You should feel anger. You should feel the need to give her a slap or two. But all you see sitting before you is a little girl crying out for her brother. Besides, nothing you say or do will match the disgust and guilt she’s currently feeling at herself.

She gets up. “I’ll find a way to get you out of here.”

“And what? Can you guarantee protection for my child? For my loved ones? Because he threatened all of them. And he’ll go through with each one.”

She goes silent again.

“That’s what I thought. I think it’s best that you finish whatever you came here to do. And then go back to Linkon. The Caleb you miss died in that fire. Grieve that version of him and move on. Don’t come back. It’ll make all our lives easier.”

“I can’t just leave you here!”

You scoff again. “You and I both know you’re not going to do anything. You love him too much. Even if you tried, what’ll you do when, not if, when the Fleet finds out? They’ll dispose of him but not before killing me and my daughter in the process. So, drop that righteous attitude and just leave.” 

She’s gone the next day.

It’s been a month since then.

You sit in the most uncomfortable position on the couch. It’s the only thing bringing you relief from the cramps.

Your husband enters the room.

“What’s wrong?” he asks as a small groan escapes you.

“Period,” you’ve taken to giving him one worded answers, sometimes no answer at all. 

“It’s okay. You won’t have this problem next month.”

He watches as the confusion on your face is replaced with horror. He gives you a smile and kisses your temple. “I have to go now. I’ll be back at night, hon.” He leans down to your ear. “We’ll get started then,” he rubs your round stomach, like he already sees what he plans. “Eve deserves some siblings.”

You don’t respond as he leaves. Those words repeat in your head. They throb in your ears. 

Siblings. As in plural. As in more than one. 

There’s nothing you can do to combat the dread you feel for the rest of the day. He’s already decided your future and you both know that you can’t do anything about it. 

You stand before the shelf. The one with the picture of her and Caleb in their childhood. A bitter feeling grows at their happy smiles.

While she always got the perfect Caleb - the act he performed only for her - you got the real one. The one who’ll say it’s time he gets to be selfish when you both know selfish is all he’s ever been with you. 

A crack had begun to form in you the day you met him, one so small you never noticed. It stayed that way even as it began to get larger and new ones joined for you were too lost in him to realise. When you did notice, it was too late. All you heard as he left you was the sound of you shattering.

Then he waited for you to patch yourself back up so he could do it again. You’ve finally realised what you should’ve back then. He’ll destroy you, ruin you if it means keeping you by his side.

He’ll do it all with no remorse.

And it’s too late for you, you realise as you hear the sound again.

He won.

AN: I know nothing about programming. Why did I make the reader one, then? Maybe because I like making my life difficult! Don’t take anything I’ve written in regards to her job seriously, I just made shit up. 

I did make reader plus size but I’ve never been one to focus on the bodies of those I write about. 

I did not mean for Caleb to turn out this way but I lost the 50/50 to him and didn’t get Master of Fate so this is my revenge :) (I waited so long for the fucking rerun) 

Let me know if you would like to be on the tag list for the other versions!

Tag list: @zeverean @quill-for-glory @smittenlynn @nm4565natty @miuangel

[borathae]

↳ Index [Day 05 - Dragon Cock]

Pairing: Soft Dom!Yoongi x f.Reader

Genre: Dragon!Yoongi, Fantasy!AU, Secret Love!AU

Kinks: dragon cock, cunnilingus, magical spit, vaginal fingering, vaginal penetrative sex, he tries so hard to be gentle with her, breeding, creampie, multiple orgasms, praise, strength kink, size kink (he is a lot bigger ‘cause dragon yk), giddy aftercare

Wordcount: 5.5k

a/n: i love him i love him i love him!! he is my beloved pookie and i’ve only known him for one day! also, click this link if you wanna see his delicacies :) i’m serious, do it :)

You lived in Bailemon, which liked to consider itself a town, but it was very far from that. It was small, perhaps even small enough to be considered a village instead of a town. Not many outsiders visited Bailemon because it was far from big cities, nestled between two high mountain ranges and hidden in a dense forest. The roads were passable, but not good. People here lived from the forest and from the little mountainous farming they were able to do during the warmer months.

Your town – or village – had a village square where each second day, the farmers and merchants gathered to sell their goods. In autumn, there was a festival of fire held on the square to ward off the evil spirits of winter. Bailemon also had a place of worship, which was considered holy beyond comparison. It was said that on its grounds, evil cannot tread and in times of danger, one should run to it for shelter.

The people in your village were superstitious, they believed in ghosts, dark magic and demons. You knew their superstition to be justified. This world was dark. The nights during the cold months were too long not to bring forth evil. But you also knew that stuff like holy grounds were nothing but lies to make life in the village easier. Evil walks where it pleases, it takes what it wants and leaves no room for escape.

You lived in the village with your aging parents, taking care of them as their only surviving child. You had a brother once, but he walked into the forest one day and never returned. People say that evil spirits got him, but you know that this was a lie because you looked for him. At least you tried to because you never found him nor traces of evil spirits. You are convinced that it was simply a pack of hungry wolves which took him from your family. Or perhaps he ran away to somewhere warmer and happier. You wouldn’t blame him.

As the only living child of your parents, it became your duty to tend to them in their growing age. You earned money forging swords for the Queen’s army and went hunting whenever food ran out. You also helped the farmers shoe their horses and ox and sometimes scared villagers came to you asking for yet another lock for their front door. Your family lived well thanks to you, even if work by the forge was hard and difficult.

If you weren’t sweating by the scorching fire or hunting in the forest, you walked it in search of berries and mushrooms or to train with your sword. The reason however why you walked the woods most, was the dragon living high up in the northern mountains.

Dragons. Yes, they were as real as evil spirits and wicked demons were and your village was under the protection of one.

Dragons didn’t look as one might imagine a dragon to look like, at least not always. They could morph their enormous dragonic bodies into human-like bodies and walk among people. Their eyes, however, always remained a fiery yellow and their canine teeth were always sharp and pointy. They were also taller than normal humans and had scales down their necks and torsos. Some even had scales on their hands and sharp claws which sliced deeper than any blade ever could. In the lands of humans, dragons were considered gods.

The festival of fire was held because of the dragon living in the mountains. A brave soul is sent to his lair to ask him for his presence each year. Then once the dragon comes down from his high home, he lights the fire with his hot breath and with it, wards off the evil winter spirits. Once the fire burns bright, the villagers begin dancing around the fire in pairs, thanking the dragon for the fire and his protection while he sits on a wooden throne, overlooking the dance. He is always alone during these festivities, drinking wine and eating meat, except for when one of the many willing women – and men – try catching his attention. He never reciprocates. 

Marrying a dragon was considered a gift from the gods and not many were successful. Dragons were a distant people – perhaps that is why they became so rare these days – and scarcely engaged with humans except for when they were needed. They lived longer than any human ever would and because of their bigger bodies, many who tried to be intimate with a human, ended up hurting their beloved counterpart. So for the safety of humans, of whom the dragons were very fond, they stayed away from them.

That doesn’t stop you however from regularly walking the path to the dragon’s lair. Sword strapped to your back and with a thick dress warming your body, you walk the steep and stony path. You put your parents to sleep already and locked the cottage. The priest spoke of evil spirits dancing on the wind tonight and you didn’t want to risk anything. You knew that they were safe in your house because you placed dragon ash by each window and door. It was the only thing which truly kept evil away and it is a regular present the dragon gives you.

You take a deep breather once you reach the mountain plateau in front of his cave. Marks of his dragon body landing dig deep into the grey gravel. Small autumn flowers grow in its deep crevices. The dragon placed a pot of flowers next to the cave entrance. You have to chuckle each time you pass it because of its peculiarity. It looks so out of place and yet fits his character so well.

“Yoongi!” you call out the dragon’s name, voice echoing in the big cave. You venture deeper into the cave, leaving the cold autumn air behind. “Yoongi, are you home?”

His lair consisted of two caves. One big and deep and one smaller. The big cave was in the front, welcoming you with endless darkness as it dug deep into the mountain. It smelled ancient and wet in here and there was always a faint sound of water trickling somewhere. Yoongi can fly in it when he is in his true form and hide on the ceiling when he doesn’t want to be found. The smaller cave was where he lived however. You have to take a sharp turn to the right for it and walk through a corridor-like walkway. The ceiling shrinks in height until it was but six meters.

“Yoongi, are you in here?” you try again, entering his true lair. Your voice doesn’t echo anymore. Lantern and torches light up the walls, a fireplace warms the space, expensive rugs cover the stone ground and golden furniture fills the room. Gold, jewels and crystals are scattered all around the cave in heaps or stuffed into big treasure chests. It feels homely here and tonight it is empty.

“Where the heavens are you?” you murmur, looking around the lair. An especially golden cup calls your attention. You bend down to inspect it better, fluttering your lashes at your own distorted reflection. It brings a chuckle to your lips and you straighten up, “how silly I looked.”

You ghost your fingers over a set of earrings next. They sparkle like stars in the sky. They are so beautiful.

“Careful, they’re worth more than your entire village.”

“Oh heavens”, you startle, pulling your sword in instinct and whipping around quickly. The blade graces against your stalker’s throat without cutting them.

“Don’t strike me down just yet”, Yoongi says, lifting his hands.

“You scared me”, you say, touching his chin with the tip of your sharp sword.

The right corner of his lips curls into an amused smirk, revealing glimpses of his long fangs.

“I could tell”, he says blithely despite the sword against his throat.

You put pressure on his chin, forcing his head to tilt up and for his amused smirk to grow. His fiery eyes flicker, a deep growl rumbles in his chest. 

“I could have cut your head off”, you say. 

“And yet you didn’t.”

You flip the blade to its side, forcing him to gulp because of the sharpness against his skin.

“Careful now”, he rasps.

“Mhm”, you decide with a cock of your brow, pulling your sword back. You twirl it once then put it back into its sheath, features warming as you laugh.

His golden eyes soften and a smile curls his lips. He closes the distance, placing his big hands on your waist and bending down to kiss your lips. You rest your hands on his strong chest, getting on your tiptoes to reach him better. He breaks the kiss, rubbing his nose against yours gently. His breath smells fresh and feels warm.

“What are you doing here?” he asks.

“The cottage was too cold.”

He laughs, “this is the only reason?”

You snicker, dancing your hands to the nape of his strong neck to trace the scales. You shake your head, “no, I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

“You did?”

“Mh-hm very much so.”

He draws a giggle to your lips. He smiles, tasting it with a tender kiss. “Come here you”, he mumbles and deepens the kiss. He lifts you off the ground for it just enough that you didn’t have to stand on your tiptoes any longer. 

You break the kiss to talk, even if he disagrees with a low growl. His golden eyes gaze longingly at your lips.

“Where were you before I called for you?”

“Deep in the caves, digging for gold.”

“I see and were-”

He interrupts you in laughed words, “will you kiss me or do I have to steal it from you?”

“No. No, I will kiss you. I got the message”, you laugh, pulling him into a deep kiss.

Yoongi purrs deeply, holding you tighter against him as his lips fall into a passionate dance with yours.  

You met Yoongi in the year your brother died. You knew him long before that, but up until then, never talked to him. You simply watched from a distance as he lit the fire and then sat on his throne overlooking the dance. You also watched him refuse countless suitors and return to his cave alone once the festival ended. Other than that, you never engaged with him. You had always found him interesting, because dragons are gods after all and he looked so very beautiful in his human form. His hair was as black as soot, his eyes as golden as flames and his scales were an iridescent of black and gold. He didn’t possess sharp claws, which made his touch so very gentle and tender and his lips were soft and pouty which made his kiss so very addicting.

You talked to Yoongi in the year your brother died. You spent too many days to count in the dense forest in search for him and it happened that one day, you got lost. You tried and tried to find your way back, but couldn’t. Night replaced the day and you already saw yourself freezing to death when he came. At first you thought him to be a bear, but then he asked you if you were lost and you knew that you were saved. You told him about why you were in the forest and he offered you comfort in your painful times of grief. He allowed you to talk about your brother as he walked you back to the village, he even allowed you to cry and assured you that your tears were not “entirely silly”. Once he led you back to your cottage, he gave you a bag of dragon ash and told you to spread it on each window and door to keep the rest of your family safe and you thanked him with promises of praying to him in the worship hall tomorrow. Back then, you thought that you were blessed and lucky to have an interaction with him, but you never could have imagined that this one time interaction became a regular thing.

Ever since that day, he began waiting for you by the forest road, offering you companionship in your search for your brother and like this, your walks in the forest became a regular thing until one day, you took his hand and he took yours, never wanting to let go again.

The people in the village didn’t know about your relationship with Yoongi. It was your wish to keep it secret because you knew that they would ruin it. They would force you to marry him, to bear his children, to become their goddess. You didn’t want this life, you wanted to take care of your parents and help the people with your smithies, not be someone to worship.

Yoongi didn’t mind that you wanted to keep him a secret. He liked it. He had many treasures taken from him because they were precious to him and if it was revealed that you were the most precious treasure of all, it would kill you and him in the process. He cannot lose you, not ever. Not when he walked the earth alone for so long, not when his fiery heart finally had someone to burn for.

Yoongi was lonely before he met you. He had other dragons to talk to, but he enjoyed the company of only a very, very few. He also had lots of suitors, which could have made the nights easier, but Yoongi wasn’t one for meaningless fucking. Yoongi craved connection above all. He craved intimacy and trust and conversation. He craved someone to care for and someone to see him as another living being not as a god. You give him all of this and more, but Yoongi knows that even if you didn’t give him any of that, he would love you. He loves you without reason after all. He loves you simply because it was right.

You break the kiss for air, vision just a little blurry as you look at him. You are eye to eye when you are in his arms, hands running along his scaly neck and strong shoulders. A black tunic sits on his torso, allowing his higher body heat to reach your palms. Even in the iciest nights he will warm you. Sometimes in winter, when your parents were already sleeping and the village was quiet, Yoongi sneaks into your cottage through the window (which is always hilarious because he is very big in comparison to the small frame) so he could warm you as you fell asleep. He is always gone the next morning, only having left behind a fresh bag of dragon ash and a few gold coins you could spent in the big city on food.

“You are so warm”, you say, making his eyes smile.

“You are such a delight.”

Your eyes race between the other’s, you and he feel breathless. Your fingers run up to his slightly pointy ears, scratching him behind them.

Yoongi purrs, tilting his head back as his lids flutter. 

“If you touch me like this…”

“I know.”

It is a silent understanding between you and him. Yoongi sighs your name and pulls you into a kiss. His fangs clash with yours before he naturally fixes his roughness, kissing you oh so tenderly. Tenderly, but also incredibly hungry. You moan, fingers twisting his black locks and legs closing around his waist. He answers you in a guttural growl, fingers grasping you harder.

This is also why you walked the difficult path. Not only did you want to see him, you wanted his body and touch. You craved it like fire craves wood to burn.

Yoongi walks to his bed with you, laying you atop the big mattress. He climbs over you, caging you under his big, strong body. You open your legs willingly, hands slipping from his hair to grasp the sheets instead. 

The kiss breaks because he broke it. His hot breath graces your skin. He cradles your cheek, thumb caressing your temple.

“My treasure, I”, he begins, fingers dimpling your soft thigh possessively, “I need you. I need you so much, I can scarcely breathe. Will you have me?”

You nod your head vigorously, stomach fluttering in what was to come. 

“I need to hear it, please.”

“I will. I will have you”, you allow him, parting your legs. 

Yoongi moans your name and kisses you, pulling you up into a sitting position to take off your sword. Your fingers are busy with his shirt, undoing the knots and bows. You break apart for just a moment, taking off your clothes. You cannot bother to be dressed. 

A moment of calm after the undressing, used to stare at each other. You are both kneeling on the bed, facing each other. He is panting, growling deeply each time he exhales like a dragon ready to spit fire. The sound makes you wetter each time he does it. His torso is muscular and his scales hug his form as if he was wearing armour. They are mostly around his chest and upper back and fade out on his lower torso. His legs and crotch are free of scales, skin golden and sun-kissed and looking so human. You touch him, tracing the scales first before making your way down to his legs. 

He lets you, eyes mesmerised by the plumpness of your breasts and the curves of your bared body. He reaches out, sending his fingers on a walk along your landscape. 

“You are so beautiful”, he speaks softly, eyes gazing at the goosebumps his touch draws to the surface. 

“You are just as beautiful”, you tell him, caressing the silken skin of his stomach.

You reach his hips. His skin is so soft there and sensitive to scratches. You give him exactly that, making his cock twitch between his thighs. 

Yoongi’s cock wasn’t human and the first time you saw it in its full size, you understood why so many dragons ended up hurting their lovers. It was the cock of a dragon, made for dragon. If he was in his true form, you are actually unable to take it because of its enormous size. If he was in his human form, it shrunk with him, but it was still insanely big in comparison to human cocks. His cock curved slightly in the shape of an S. He wasn’t smooth as humans were, instead his length had an engorged tip with a textured shaft, which stimulated even your deepest spots. When he released inside you, his base swelled up, keeping his cock lodged inside you until your quivering walls had enough of drinking his nectar. 

You were scared at first and Yoongi, feeling just a little insecure that you couldn’t like his cock, told you that you could still escape if you so wished to do. The fear in his voice drew you closer to him back then and you assured him that you could make it work because you wanted nobody else to fill you than him. He took your virginity that night and for not one second, you felt pain or discomfort, lying in his arms afterwards while his fingertips drew shapes of adoration on your skin and he whispered how much he adored you.

The memories of countless shared nights draw you closer to him and your hand to his cock, tracing his textured shaft. Despite his many pumps and crevices, his skin was soft to the touch. He was hotter than humans and it made his length feel incredible inside. It is best described as a feeling of burning from the inside in the most pleasurable of ways and once he releases inside, oh, once his hot cream fills your belly to the point of bloating, the heat is so intense that you often end up screaming in ecstasy. 

You close your fingers around his base tightly and drag them up to his tip. The pressure is enough to squeeze droplets of precum out of his slit, eliciting a deep growl from him. 

He frowns, exhaling a hot swirl of breath on your face. It wasn’t painful, simply insanely arousing. His fingers dimple your hips as he grabs you. You wobble slightly from the intense touch, hand trembling around his large cockhead.

“You are playing with fire”, he lulls, eyelids heavy in pleasure.

“I like it hot”, you taunt, twisting your fist around his tip. 

“You drive me insane”, he gets out and slaps your hand away for the sole purpose of pushing you into the sheets. He pins your hands above your head. “One day it will end in your punishment.” 

You moan, writhing under him. You wouldn’t mind being punished if it meant that you could feel his touch.

“Stay like this.” 

You whimper, nodding your head in obedience. 

“I will be gentle, I promise.” 

He lowers his lips to your neck, kissing a path down to your heat. He is hasty in his kisses, letting his impatience shine through this way. Dragons, so he told you, are a greedy people. Once they lust for something - or in his case, someone - they would do anything to claim it as quickly as possible. Stuff like taking it slow and preparing you are foreign to his people, but he does it for you. He is so good in being patient, but sometimes his greed shines through. Tonight for example when he kisses a greedy and hasty path down your body just so he could be between your legs faster. 

He places one kiss on each of your inner thighs, strong fingers gripping your flesh afterwards to pull your legs apart. His fiery eyes race over your exposed cunt, flickering hungrily.  

“You are so wet already”, he rasps. 

“I wanted you all week.” 

“I wanted you more, you have no idea.” 

Patience finally leaves him and he claims what he lusts for most, drawing a yelp of pleasure from you. You arch your back, legs shaking in his hold and fingers grasping his thick hair as he feasts on your cunt sloppily. 

Yoongi pleases you with his mouth for two reasons, he told you. The first reason is his insatiable hunger and greed. You are sweeter than anything he could ever taste and your cunt’s nectar makes his head blurry in pleasure. The second reason is the more important one. It is to make you ready for his dragonic cock. The spit of a dragon is relaxing to a human, it contains elements which not only heighten the sensitivity of their nerve endings, but which also relaxes the muscles so their holes could take a dragon’s cock easily. Yoongi confessed to you back then that the reason why so many dragons hurt their human lovers is because they don’t take time to properly relax them. They let their lust and greed control them and as a result hurt their humans.

Yoongi would never. Yoongi takes his time with you. He licks every inch of your dripping heat, buries his long tongue deep in your walls and pumps it into you until your tightened walls loosened up and you are gaping for his cock. He licks you to orgasm whenever he prepares you and you always shake in his grip, forcing his greed to grow to unbearable levels. Yoongi loves your orgasms as much as he loves gold. 

Tonight is no different, Yoongi draws an overwhelming orgasm out of you. You scream, legs trying to close on his head and weakened body helplessly shaking on the sheets. Yoongi growls into you, pushing his fingers deep into your loose cunt so he could feel your walls tremble. 

He keeps them inside you after your high ebbed down, curling them greedily while his soiled lips kiss up your body. He grabs your wrists and holds them together, big body draped over yours and fingers rubbing your sensitive insides. 

“You’re sweating”, he rasps, gazing at you obsessively.

“Please fuck me, please”, you beg, voice so close to a sob. His fingers aren’t enough. “I need your cock, please.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Please.”

“I will be gentle, I promise”, he says, slipping his fingers from your cunt to jerk his own cock. He guides it to your gaping cunt, rubbing it through your folds. “You are so beautiful, my treasure”, he breathes, giving you all his adoration by pushing into you. 

You gasp, tensing up under him at the feeling of his engorged tip pushing past your entrance.

“Are you hurting?” he asks, moving as slowly as possible. 

You shake your head, gazing up at him droopily. 

“Tell me if it does. You are doing so well, my treasure”, he whispers, fingers rubbing your swollen clit to make the breach easier. 

“It feels so good…” 

You can feel his large tip as it digs deeper and deeper, but what truly feels like heaven are the many pumps and crevices filling you. Your entrance is on pleasurable fire, feeling every texture inch by inch. His saliva made your walls sensitive to the very end, forcing you to feel his textured cock even deep inside. He curves so perfectly that his large tip presses against you deepest pleasure spot, forcing your belly to bulge just a little because he was so, so big. 

“I’m in. Does it hurt?” he asks, keeping still for your sake. His greed tells him to take you rough. It takes everything inside him not to give into his animalistic side. 

You spill tears. 

“No. No, I’m sorry I-” he panics, but gets stopped when you rip your hands free from his grasp to cradle his face instead.

“I love you, Yoongi.” 

He shudders, melting into your hands.

“I love you too”, he gets out and twists the pillow above your head as he begins pumping his cock into you. “Does this please you?”

“A-ah”, you let out, trembling in reaction. 

“Is it too much?”

“No, please…don’t stop”, you croak, rolling your eyes back as you fall into the pleasurable fire. Your lips part, making way for the endless noises of bliss he draws out of you. It feels so good. He feels so good.

“You are so beautiful. Oh, I need you. I want you. I crave you, argh”, he growls, twisting the pillow rougher as his greedy hips pick up speed. Your moans drive him wild, the view of your glowing face has the same effect on him than the view of fresh gold does. He feels high, head pounding as he feeds his insatiable lust with each heavy, deep thrust. 

Your body is so small under him, looking so fragile and breakable and yet you take him so easily. Yoongi rips the pillow, grinding his fangs as he growls. He buries his cock deeper in your gaping walls, forcing your back to arch off the mattress and for your voice to rise in pitch. He lets his tail grow just so he could wrap it around your waist and hold you in this position while he rubbed your pulsating clit and fucked your soft cunt. 

“You’re mine. My treasure, my everything, my beloved”, he chants, deep voice contorted in pleasure.

He is still in disbelief that you can take him so easily. So small, so fragile, so soft and yet you can house him entirely. The first time he laid with you, Yoongi barely went past his first two inches, moving carefully and slowly just so he wouldn’t hurt you. He would have been fine if that was all that you could ever take, but you proved him so wrong. He can be free with you. You can fully take him and it makes you moan so blissfully that Yoongi feels high just from the sound of it.

He is so blessed to have you. His treasure, his beloved, his everything. His tail tightens around your waist possessively, angling your hips so he could go so much deeper. 

You wail his name, fingers gripping his strong arms and legs dropping as they stop working. Only his tail holds you up right now while you shake under him.

“Are you?”

“Yes”, you wail, moaning loudly afterwards.

“I need you, I fucking need you”, he spits, cursing because you anger him in pure lust, “I’m going to fill you with my seed until you’re bursting. I will paint your walls golden, you will be mine. Mine forever, urgh.” 

“Please! Please make me yours, please!” 

Yoongi lets out a dragonic growl, ripping the pillow apart and throwing his head back as your pleas break him. His big balls empty themselves in your trembling heat, giving you so much pleasure that you orgasm again with screams of his name. There is so much of his seed and it doesn’t want to stop, filling you up past your limits so it squirts out of you with each angry thrust. And Yoongi keeps going until his base swells and he genuinely cannot move his cock anymore. 

He drops his head into the crook of your neck, huffing and puffing demonically. His cock is still releasing into you, making you sob because the pressure of his engorged base and swollen tip against your overly sensitive walls makes you orgasm again. 

“Yoongi, I can’t do this. I can’t, it feels too good”, you plead, walls clenching around his swollen cock as they drink his golden seed greedily. 

“I know, my treasure, I know”, he soothes you, “I can’t stop. I’m so greedy, I can’t stop. I’m sorry.”

“I can’t do this, Yoongi. Yoongi please”, you beg, barely able to breathe. While dragon’s spit relaxes, their seed gives a human a rush of pleasure. The first time it happened, you cried because it was so overwhelming. You still need to cry often whenever he breeds you and tonight all that holds you back is the loving embrace of his tail around your waist. It feels so good but also like too much because you cannot stop orgasming.

“Not again, ah please Yoongi!!”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. It’s almost over, I promise. Please hold onto me, it’s almost over”, he soothes you, massaging your engorged clit to make it easier to bear. 

Your stomach is so bloated from his seed, you are sweating so much. He can feel one more load building up. 

“I need you to breathe for me. One last time, I promise”, he lulls and rolls his hips into you. 

You writhe and scream, scratching down his neck with all your might. You don’t draw blood because his scales protect him, but he still feels it as a pleasurable tingle. 

Yoongi lifts his head to look at you. It lasts one second because then his eyes roll back as the view of your ruined, drugged body sets him off. 

“I love you”, he wails, bursting into you one last time. He makes you orgasm with him, walls tightening to the point of milking him dry. 

This is what you both needed. To be so connected. 

He drops his head back into your neck, fingers slipping from the ruined pillow to pet your head instead.

“My treasure, oh my treasure, my golden beloved”, he croaks, kissing you gently, “I’m sorry for being so greedy, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t. I’m so happy”, you get out, body laying limp and ruined under him. His swollen cock is still inside you, keeping every droplet of his golden seed in you. It warms you so much, makes you feel so good.

“You are? You’re happy?” he asks.

“So happy.” You hug him with your weak arms, barely able to close them around his broad back. “I’m yours.”

He whimpers, seeking your closeness by hugging you against his chest with his strong arm and his tail. 

“Oh my most loved treasure.” He kisses a slow path up to your face, cradling your cheek with his unoccupied hand. “Will you stay the night? I promise to fly you down to the village by morning.” 

“Yes, I’d like to stay. I couldn’t possibly walk tonight. Not after how you ruined me.”

A shy giggle slips from his lips. You open your eyes, meeting his giddy gaze. His cheeks are flushed, his dark hair is sticking to his sweaty forehead. The view of him makes his cock feel so much better inside you. You are his. So entirely and willingly his. 

“I couldn’t help it. I missed you so much and, and you are so tempting. Did I hurt you?”

“No, it felt so good. You still do”, you say, clenching around his swollen cock. He shudders slightly, drawing closer to you.

“I promise my cock will soften soon, you just feel so good. I’m trying, but he wants to bask in you longer, I’m sorry.” 

“I hope he doesn’t soften soon. I don’t want this to end.” 

He blushes, but needs to seek more reassurance still.

“Please forgive me for the way I acted when I bred you. I acted like a greedy animal.” 

“Mhm, you did. Because you are a greedy animal. My greedy dragon, mine”, you say caressing his soft cheek.

He leans into your touch, eyes lowering in adoration. You giggle, scrunching your nose cutely. He smiles, brushing some messy strands of hair out of your forehead. 

“I love you, my little human.”

“And I love you, my strong dragon.”

[anantaru]

relationship stories — genshin edition

including. lyney, alhaitham

w. none, established relationship, slightly suggestive

— lyney

though he doesn't outwardly say it, lyney was honestly used to being the center of attention and enjoyed it quite much— so, without much explaining to do, when your sweet, tender ministrations gradually begin to shift into different directions, which weren't including him—he malfunctions.

at first, he attempts his subtle tricks, because why wouldn't they work, correct? for example snapping his fingers and making a flower appear, tossing a card in your lap before it vanishes or last but not least— his special trick, he dramatically sighs and pretends to be seriously saddened by something, bothered even, although nothing works.

so, as every single mentally stable person would;

he escalates.

the next thing you knew, lyney's draped over your body like a dying man— breathes out deeply, "ah well, how cruel… to be forgotten like this…" a heavy sigh drifts into the air, vowen with the unbearable weight of existence itself, he likes to act out.

the man feigns a broken heart, "what cruel fate, what pitiful misfortune," he utters, "to be subjected to such neglect!" a he sinks further into you, arms circled around your pretty waist as though the very act of being ignored has withered his spirit beyond repair.

ah, but no— surely, this was not mere oversight— lyney claims, this was abandonment, a calculated dismissal from your person, to pester him, to act out your little brattiness— a tragedy so profound it actuall turned him on. quite a lot.

you roll your eyes at him as he peeks to see if you’re looking and noticing his flustered, pink cheeks and slacked jaw.

fuck, you still ignore him? no no, it cannot be.

perhaps lyney needs to steal whatever you’ve been focused on and replace it with himself.

— alhaitham

disagreeing with the scribe was a dangerous game only a few were willing to participate in, since, well, alhaitham doesn’t argue to win— it's honestly worse than that;

he argues to exhaust you to the point where you actually want to smack the living hell out of his face.

one fateful afternoon, in a moment of idle concern, you offhandedly remarked that prolonged reading in dim lighting could put unnecessary strain on his pretty eyes.

truthfully, the comment was simple, harmless— or so you thought.

big mistake. yup. worse even.

without hesitation, he snaps his book shut, the sound cutting sharp edges into the quiet room as he leaned into you— so close, in fact, that the space between you seized to exist, his warm breathing tickling against your lips.

his gaze, sharp and unyielding, locked onto yours as he murmured, no, whispered angel-alike;

"there’s no conclusive evidence supporting that claim, you know that, right?" the words were less of a rebuttal and more of a challenge, daring you to argue, to push back, to do something, perhaps even show him some of your feisty, little side that he so openly adored.

best case scenario, to let this battle of logic and proximity spiral into something far more dangerous— or perhaps far more, well, passionate? intoxicating?

you stared as he pressed forward, his words unraveling step by step. yet, there was no hesitation, no mercy— only the relentless tide of his reasoning, his prideful knowledge, immediately washing over you as if to erode even the smallest fragment of your resolve.

"it's a myth perpetuated by outdated medical assumptions, in fact, let’s examine the research together so you'll—"

oh fuck no, you tried to leave, you really tried— but he followed, "scared to be wrong now? hey— where are you going?"

well, lets say about twenty minutes later you gave up and contemplated locking himself out of your home.

in return, alhaitham just smirked at you, parading his pearly whites in front of your face as he reopened his book without a single care in this world, muttering;

"yeah, thought so."

-

©2025 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[synnamonroll666]

You Are Still Human

𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐

𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐

Pairing: Wendigo!Josh Washington x Fem!Reader Description: Josh breaks down over the fact that he cannot live a normal life since his possession and no longer believes that he is truly human. So you find a special way to remind him of his humanity... Warnings: 18+, Smut, Fluff, Angst, Mental Breakdown, Insecurities, P In V, Creampie, Slight Choking, Rough Smut, Animalistic Smut, Mention Of Breeding, No Foreplay Or Prep, Pain Kink-ish??? (Let me know if I missed any!) Word Count: 3.2k A/N: So I finally got this done! I didn't expect it to end up this long but as you can see, things got out of hand FAST. 😂 I hope you guys enjoy it! 🖤 Josh Washington Masterlist: 🖤 Taglist: @nuggetsandmoose, @maquillagebookmark, @wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee28374728, @bee-who-isnt-french

𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐

My tired feet slowly shuffle across the hardwood floor as I push myself through the front door of our shared home. I am exhausted after several errands that I had to run today, to say the least. But that's the price I have to pay for pushing them off until right at last minute. Though it wasn't exactly the extra work I had to do that pushed my mind and body to feel so worn out. My loving boyfriend decided to join me, which was a rare occurrence for him.

Ever since the... Incident... He hasn't wanted to go out into the world much. I understand his anxiety of being seen in public with his condition so I never push, but today he insisted on joining me on my mission to finish my to-do list. Perhaps he felt bad that all these burdens were placed on my shoulders with his lack of want to leave the house.

But unfortunately, a face mask to cover up his ripped cheek and sharpened canines was just not enough to cover what he has become. Recovery for Josh was long and hard and we had only just began talking about the possibility of cosmetic surgery. It was a long process before we could even begin worrying about such things.

After leaving the mountain, the spirit of the wendigo left him, not being able to leave where it is bound. But still, traces of an animal-like presence lingered in his behaviors and personality. We didn't know if restoring his humanity was possible, but the doctors were able to recover just enough to get him to a point of leaving the hospital to live a normal life. Though even then, I had to beg to convince them to let me take him home with me.

His parents were hesitant on letting me take care of him, but after some negotiating, they bought a secluded cabin in a swallow forest, just deep enough to give us privacy but not too deep that I would be trapped if I needed to get away. Josh's humanity was indeed resorted, but the primal animal was still within.

And that's where we are now. Josh has an odd habit of forgetting how to act "human" sometimes. Every once in awhile he will stare at someone random and growl lowly, or even nip at the air as though his need to feed was getting too intense. It was worrisome, to say the least. Sometimes I would stay up at night, fearing the one thing that I always worried was inevitable—that Josh would lose control once more.

Though time and time again, he would prove me wrong with a loving and warm cuddle at the end of the day. But sadly, tonight will not be so sweet. I can tell by the way Josh trudges into the living room, his head hung low and shoulders slumped. He wants to be left alone.

Though I understand this, I don't want to leave him with his thoughts again. Bad things happen when Josh is left alone with his thoughts. So I approach the doorway of the living room, leaning against the frame as I watch his tired form from afar. He seems defeated by the way he sat slouched against the soft cushions of our couch.

Slowly, I make my way to him step by step and sit on the couch, my eyes watching him to read his body language. He does not react to my presence, instead staring out into a void of nothingness like his mind is elsewhere. I reach over to the small end table by my side and pull its drawer open, only to retrieve a small, red bag.

I set it on my lap and then turn back to Josh, carefully taking on of his large hands in my own. They have grown a tiny bit since his possession, by an inch for each finger at least. Every part of his body has grown a bit since then. Sometimes it could feel a little intimidating. I run my thumb over the fragile, pale skin on the back of his hand before releasing a tired sigh.

"Your nails are getting long again, sweetheart. Shall I trim them for you?" I ask while reaching for the bag in my lap with my free hand, pulling the zipper to the side to reveal a bunch of nail care tools.

He does not respond verbally, but let's out a huff to let me know that he is fine with it. So with that, I begin my work, trimming and filing away at the sharp and jagged claws. It takes what feels like an hour to get them finished and looking nearly human again. In this time, Josh doesn't move a bit. He is so still, it's hard to tell he is even breathing. But once I finish and go to move my hands away from his, his boney fingers clasp my own.

"Thank... You..." He whispers faintly, his voice coarse and almost ghostly. Life glimmers in his eyes for a brief moment as his light irises study his hands.

But then, after a minute of admiring my work, he stands from his spot on the couch. He begins to pace around the coffee table in the center of the room, as if his mind is wandering, pondering something intense. I watch him for a few moments as he silently walks, feet shuffling along the carpet. But then, he mutters something...

"It's not enough..."

I almost do not catch it, until he repeats the words in a volume just slightly higher than before. But before I know it, Josh is pacing more frantically, whispering the sentence over and over. An eerie dread falls over my body as I watch him, his movements growing more panicked. He seems frightened and enraged, and those feelings seem to grow until he finally snaps, flipping over the coffee table in one swoop of his arms.

"I'm sick of this fucking shit!" He screams in a voice that sounds more like a howl from a wounded animal than anything else. "I'm so sick of being a fucking monster! I'm so fucking sick of people looking at me like one—like I shouldn't be with you or like I'm going to hurt you! I just want to be human again!"

I am stunned, sitting still as ever as if I'm afraid to move. That is until he breaks down, falling to his knees as he let's out a mournful sob. It's as if his spirit has been beaten down to the point of no return by this curse, every day stares, and the pressure of trying to be what he once was. Within a second, I am by his side on the floor, pulling him close to me and embracing him tightly.

"You're not a monster." I whisper sweetly as I caress his thinned out hair, just one more thing he has had to be insecure about since becoming human again. But it never lost its silky texture, which was what I had always loved the most about it.

He shakes his head and whimpers faintly, "I'm just a monster..."

I think for a moment. Usually it's pretty hard to break someone out of this mindset, especially Josh. He has a stubborn way of thinking, which makes it hard to convince him otherwise on a lot of subjects. I continue to pet his hair and think of back when he was human, how much he loved to show me just how much he loved me every day. Of course, a lot of times it would be through physical acts— And finally, it hits me. I know what will break him out of these self-abusive thoughts.

"I want you to prove to me that you're not a monster." I order firmly, which is enough for him to finally raise his head from where it is tucked in my shoulder and look up at me.

"W-What?" He queries just barely above a whisper—just barely enough for me to hear his quivering voice.

I gently caress his cheek, brushing my fingers over his deep scars as I clarify. "Prove to me that you aren't a monster. I know you can. Prove to me that you can feel all the emotions that a normal person can feel, and make me feel them as well in return."

He stares at me for a moment, eyes clearly uncertain about my rather intimate proposition. I can practically see the internal battle going on inside his mind through those glazed over pupils in the center of his white irises. Then, he let's out a shaky breath before biting his lip subtly—a risky habit he still carries from being human, but has to be more cautious doing now with his sharpened teeth.

"I... I don't want to hurt you..." He whimpers like a hurt puppy, glancing back down at his fidgeting fingers.

"You won't," I say as I place my hands on his cheeks, forcing his gaze back to me so he can see my sincerity. "I know you..."

He adverts his eyes once more, only this time looking down at the growing bulge under the rough fabric of his jeans—something I had failed to notice before. Josh had grown so backwards since his turning—so backwards that we haven't had sex since prior to it. I know it is killing him, especially since he was always the horniest guy I knew before this happened.

To make things easier for him, I place my hand on his thigh, resting right beside his needy member. He swallows thickly as he visibly shivers, a thin layer of sweat already coating his skin as his temperature rises. It is a subtle action to test the waters and when I'm sure he is comfortable, my hand goes right to the spot I know he desires so much.

But as soon as my hand cups the twitching length through his pants, something changes. A soft growl is heard rumbling at the back of his throat, and when my eyes flick back up, I am met with a hungry and what looks to be primal gaze. His eyes are no longer soft and sorrowful, but hold something almost animalistic within them.

Before I can say anything, Josh scoops me up and throws me down on the couch, knocking a startled gasp to fly out from me that seems to fall on deaf ears. He is quick to cage me between his arms, and lower his body weight down over top of me to encase me in his grasp, like a predator sealing his prey's fate.

No words are spoken, just the sounds of his ragged breaths and rabid growls fill the air. His body temperature has risen even higher than I have ever felt from him, and as he presses his chest against mine to keep me locked in place, I can feel his racing heartbeat vibrating through his chest as well. It amazes me that he hasn't had a heart attack yet.

But still, it seems as if something is stopping him in place. A lost, uncertain, question glimmers in his orbs as though he is waiting for an answer. Though he is silent, I know what he is asking—the final thing he needs to take things to the next level.

"Go ahead, Josh. I'm ready." I breath faintly, giving him the permission he seeks.

As if from a movie, he tears our clothes off at a supernatural speed. I lay there, naked and dumbfounded as I look at the shreds of clothing that fell all around us, surrounding us like some sort of makeshift nest. I can't help but wonder how in the hell he managed to do that after I just clipped and filed his claws down, but I don't have much time to answer.

A shriek of shock, pain, and pleasure tears from my throat as I feel the familiar sting of something long and hard entering my canal, though this time in a more rough and fast way. Josh was always one for foreplay, but I guess there isn't time for that now, as he is already buried deep within me to the brim within just a split second.

His eyes hold a bit of remorse for only a mere moment, until that hunger returns. I barely have time to breathe as he retracts and enters at a pace I have never seen from him before. His hips pound furiously into mine, a subtle ache setting into my joints almost in an instant as he does his work.  His grip on my waist is enough to burst my organs, while his dull nails cut into my flesh, crimson liquid forming under them more and more with each flex of his fingers. If I hadn't have cut his nails before this, I'd be done for. But I feel like Josh would know to be more careful if there was an actual hazard.

The intensity of his tip hitting my g-spot over and over at a brutal force feels to be enough to actually bruise it. Josh was always so good at finding it but this is a whole new level. I push my head back against the cushions as a cry of painful ecstasy parts my lips. Gripping the edges of the cushions and ripped strands of clothing in my fists, I begin to squirm out of pure instinct. Of course, Josh doesn't like this very much. Before I know it, a tight hand is wrapped firmly around my neck, but not enough to actually hurt me. This shows me that deep down, Josh still has some control.

He pounds into me in a sloppy and rough rhythm, determined like an animal desperate to breed. Grunts, groans, and growls that sound less than human are all that are heard from him. I would be concerned if my mind was clear enough to pay attention. No, right now, all my senses were overwhelmed by Josh, cutting off my awareness of the world around us like a sweet death. I am out of my own body now, my soul flying high in the clouds of heaven.

To my surprise, he pulls out. A soft exhale escapes me has he let's go of my throat, but that's only to quickly flip me over so he can now get in from the back. As soon as he shoves his length back inside, he's moving at a pace yet again unimaginable while his claws grip my hips firmly. He is almost pulling me back onto his cock at times, so my hips can meet his own has he thrusts into me. It's so animalistic and natural and it feels so right. And by the feeling of it, it's just enough to satisfy Josh completely.

With a roaring howl, Josh finally finds the release he has been chasing for so long. His speed and strength increases as he comes undone within me, and he fills me to the brim as if he wants to claim me... Or maybe even breed me. It is all too much for me to bear. The sensation of his heavy load spraying into my sweet spot is enough to send me flying over the edge. I bury my face into the cushion as a shuddering moan falls from my lips, before my voice strains away to nothing. My whole body trembles as I practically melt beneath him, and my walls squeeze and quiver around his cock as though I'm practically begging for more.

Though soon that psychical need gives away into exhaustion as soon as my tense muscles relax once my high subsides, my body falling limp like I no longer can control it. I'm just a doll now, all at the mercy of the man who gives me life. He may think that because I help him to heal, I am his savior. But he couldn't be more wrong. Without Joshua, I would be in a darker place, drowning in my trauma of that night. But now, I have him. And in this moment of silence where nothingness hangs in the air, that thought enters my brain. A small smile curls the corners of my lips while I close my eyes, feeling peace as I soak up his warmth while his hot breath fans my shoulder.

He removes himself from me, both of us letting out a trembling whimper, the overestimation stinging our most sensitive areas momentarily. He does not waste a single breath on words, instead leaning down to capture my lips with his. He is careful—careful to not cut me with his long canines, but also holding a tenderness he used to show before all of this. He knows that I am at my most vulnerable at this time, and will take the most caution to not break me at my fine glass-like state. When he pulls away, he gazes upon me with tear-filled and passionate eyes, his orbs reflecting what seems to be gratefulness and love.

"That wasn't the wendigo in me..." He breathes faintly while raising a hand to caress my cheek in a way so tender that I feel as if I could cry. Though I raise a questioning brow at that statement, not knowing what he means. So he elaborates after taking another second to breathe, still worn out by our recent activities. "I just needed you that badly... So I guess that was the human in me, huh?"

I smile at that and nod, admiring how he blushes at what he admits. For someone who used to be so ballsy and open with his dirty thoughts, Josh could be pretty backwards at times. It was something I always adored so much about him. I run my fingers through his raven, disheveled hair while taking in his stunning features, a soft sigh leaving me before I whisper. "You can have me whenever you like, Josh."

Josh smiles and presses his lips to mine once more, and then lays his head on my chest. I watch him intently, taking note of how he smiles when he hears my heartbeat quicken ever so slightly at the sight of him on top of me. He gently rubs my sides, soon stopping to snuggle into my breasts, seemingly deciding that this nest of our torn clothing would be our bed for the night.

Josh always reminded me of a Great Dane in a way. Despite being a lot bigger than me, there was always enough space on top of me for cuddles in his eyes. It was always quite amusing to me each time his large form would envelope my own. I continue to pet his hair, soft strands threading through my fingers with each touch. He let's out a huff in contentment and kisses my left breast, the sensation of his lips on my skin being absorbed through my flesh and meeting my heart to caress it with the love he feels for me.

"Thank you..." He murmurs, his voice dropping an octave lower and coming out more like a purr due to his exhaustion. My eyes focus on him as he closes his eyes, taking one more deep breath and then continuing his sentence a mere second before he falls into a peaceful slumber on top of me. "For everything..."

𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐

[multific]

Forbidden

Emperor Caracalla x Goddess!Reader

Summary: You just loved him. You wanted him to be happy and healthy, but for your actions, you must be punished. No God should interfere with the mortals. 

Was it truly that bad?

How can a love this strong and honest be bad?

How can anyone say your feelings were wrong?

He might be an Emperor, a mortal. 

But you loved him. 

With all of your heart. 

"You healed him." the Gods yelled at you. "We can't interfere with the mortals, you know that!"

"But I love him!" were your last words before you were banished.

A fallen God.

But at least, your love was alive.

By saving him, you also saved his brother and you saved Rome. 

Your heart was too big you were often told.

But now you were forced to live amongst mortals. Hiding in the outskirts of Rome in the woods by a pond. 

When Caracalla felt overwhelmed, he often needed to be alone.

Sometimes it was simply too much. The people, their demands and the crowd. 

During these times he ran away to the nearby forest.

The calmness of it often calmed him, his favourite spot was a pond. A small little pond which was filled with life.

But this time, he wasn't alone.

He noticed a lady walking along the bank before walking into the water. The water reached her knees.

She looked so beautiful. 

Caracalla moved and as he did his loud steps scared the woman.

Your eyes snapped at him and suddenly a cold breeze froze you in one place.

The man you loved so much. The man you healed and got banished for.

"Emperor Caracalla." you didn't even realize you said his name. 

"Who are you?" he asked but you quickly got out of the water and ran away. 

You ran but he followed you.

He was quick as he caught your hand, making you stop and turn but you were too fast, making both of you fall as you fell on him.

"I'm sorry." you tried to collect yourself but his hand gripped your wrist.

"I have seen you before, in my dreams." he said as you both stood up and he took a step closer to you. 

"You must be mistaken." you tried to leave, you really did, but he didn't let you. "Please let me leave. I shouldn't be talking to you." you watched as his eyes searched yours then looked around, trying to find someone.

"I dreamt of you. It must mean something. Perhaps the Gods sent you to me."

"Quite the opposite," you whisper.

"You must come with me."

"Please, I just want to go home."

"It is your Emperor's request." his tone changed as now he was serious.

You couldn't say no.

---

You soon found yourself in his personal room, sitting in a chair as he watched you.

"Who are you? What is your name?"

"It is Y/N. I'm a no one, My Emperor I can assure you."

"Why were you in my dreams? I cannot dream of a no one."

"I'm sure it wasn't me. You must be mistaken."

"I'm not. I remember. It was you, standing there while I slept. A beautiful light illuminated you." he must have been semi-conscious when you healed him. 

You were shaking your head.

"I'm sure your dream was lovely, but it was not me, Your Majesty." 

He leaned closer to you, watching your face as you avoided his gaze.

"Who are you?" he whispered. His voice was collected and strong.

"A simple woman." you replied with a shaky tone.

"No. You must be much more. You shall stay here until I find out who you really are"

And again, you had no other choice.

---

You met his brother the following day.

Although at first, he was suspicious of you, he soon realized that you might just be the newest plaything for his brother.

"My Lady?" Caracalla's voice called from behind you as you turned to him. "Dinner will be served soon. Just the two of us. My brother is not in the palace."

You simply nodded.

You have spent the past month with Caracalla. And as you sat down next to him on the bench, you couldn't hold it in any longer.

"I admit I haven't been truthful to you, Your Majesty. You see, your dream of me healing you was real. I did heal you from your illness. It is why I have been banished from the Gods." 

"I always knew you were special." he smiled. "From the moment I saw you by the pond. Why did you heal me?"

"Because I fell in love with you."

"No woman ever loved me."

"I'm not a woman, I'm a Goddess." you whispered and he grabbed your hand, and brought it to his lips. 

"Of course, you are, My Goddess." he looked into your eyes and soon leaned closer and sealed your lips in a kiss.

Gladiator II Collection

Taglist: 

@castellandiangelo @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou 

@mandoloriancookie @deliciousfestsalad @lilliumrorum @asgards-princess-of-mischief 

@fallout-girl219 @dracaryxzs @snowtargaryen @mel-vaz @akamitrani

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE, TO STEAL OR TO REUPLOAD ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[thekinslayed]

Forget-Me-Not

summary | Aemond's devotion for his wife deepens as they navigate her recovery together

pairing | aemond targaryen x wife!reader

tags | fluff, hurt/comfort, memory loss, injury, ooc aemond

wordcount | 2k

note | something short and sweet because i was inspired by the little crumb we got today <3 (here's some info on the flowers mentioned!)

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated!

song rec | My Jinji - Sunset Rollercoaster

(dividers by @saradika)

It was midday, and Aemond had been reading in their chambers after the council meeting when the door opened. She walked into the room and looked around, surprised as if unsure whether she was in the right place. She had been like this as of late, trying to grasp at her memories' first tingle of familiarity.

The prince’s lady wife had lost her memory when she fell off her horse during a riding accident. Her lord husband had been preoccupied with his duties on the King’s council, leaving her on her own most days. She took to the Kingswood with her Sworn Shield, relishing the feeling of the wind whipping at her face as they rode through the woods. Riding was something she had always loved to do as a girl, the memories of racing with her brothers through her homeland a sweet comfort to the foreign atmosphere in King’s Landing.

Perhaps she had gotten too excited, too greedy, when she urged her horse faster and faster until she disappeared from her knight’s midst. 

He had found her on the grass, horse nowhere to be found. It was unsure how the lady had fallen, but she had taken a great hit to her head from the impact. She looked like a forest nymph surrounded by bright flowers and green grass, hair falling around her like a halo, only if it weren’t for the streaks of blood that dripped down her temples.

When she had awakened, the princess was greeted by the sight of silver hair and a lone purple eye that watched her with worry. Her eyes shifted to the sapphire lodged into his other socket, curious as to how it got there. He was familiar to her, but she could not tell how she came to know him, her own husband. Aemond’s chest panged with hurt when his lady wife looked at him with a hazy confusion, her quaint voice muttering, “Who are you?”

Since that day, Aemond and his sweet wife had been on the path of trying to regain, or rather rebuild, her memories. 

“Hello,” She greeted him meekly. She was so shy to him now, much like she was before they were married. The princess had learned her husband loved her a great deal, and perhaps she shared a deep affection for him too, one that no amount of impact on her mind could erase. 

But how do you love a person you scarcely remember?

“Hello, my sweet,” He said to her softly. Aemond rose from his seat to approach her, giving her an embrace as he kissed her forehead. She timidly nuzzled into his arms, breathing in his scent. Teakwood and smoke, a scent that triggered a glimmer of familiarity in her otherwise foggy brain. She had made an effort to know her husband once more, making a mental list of what she liked about him.

'I like it when he holds me like this,' she thought, adding it to her list.

“Is everything alright?” He asked her, pulling away to look at her. Aemond ignored the slight twinge in his heart when she still regarded him with distance at times. He couldn’t find it within him to be cross with her, not when he blamed himself for her accident.

“I am alright, I tried to go for a walk in the gardens, but I… I’m afraid I cannot recall the way. A kind knight helped me back… one of the twins? Oh gods, I cannot remember his name either.” Her brows furrowed while she tried her hardest to remember the knight’s name. She bit her lip in concentration yet to no avail. 

“Ser Arryk?” Aemond hinted, to which she nodded in response.

“Right... Yes, Ser Arryk.” She trailed off, seemingly lost in thought. The dragon’s wife would often be like this as of late, a name or a scent would bring about hints of her past life, but as soon as she was able to grasp the memories in her hand, they would slip through her fingertips once more, lost in the blurry sea of her mind. With all her effort at trying to regain at least a single piece of memory, she found herself with headaches at the end of the day. It frustrated her to a great deal. 

Aemond knew how hard she struggled, and how much her memory weighed on her. It pained him to see her like this, even more, when he could do so little to help her. He tucked a loose hair behind her ear before cupping her chin. 

“Fret not, you will remember,” He reassured her, tone soft and warm.

“We will figure this out, you and I,” The prince promised her, the way he always did, with a determination in his voice and his heart. The idea that she might be lost forever terrified him, but she was still here, in his arms, and Aemond would have her any way he could.

“Thank you husband, for taking care of me,” She took this hand in hers, kissing the back of it in gratitude. At first, she had been wary of showing her affection, not quite remembering how. When she had seen how much Aemond cared for her and showered her with so much love, it didn’t take long for her to realize why her past self loved him greatly.

“Do you have time to walk in the gardens with me? I have been wanting for some fresh air,” She suggested shyly. She spoke so softly ever since the accident. When once she had been bubbly and exuberant, her wit had been replaced by a soft, yet curious wonder equal to that of a timid doe. 

“Of course,” Aemond replied, letting her take his hand in hers. He kissed her cheek, soft and sweet, a gentleness to him that was only ever reserved for her. “We can go anywhere you want.”

His lady wife let him lead the way to the gardens. As they walked, she tried her best to remember the twists and turns that led her down the steps of Maegor’s Holdfast. She realized the wrong turn she had earlier, which led her to another wing of the Keep where Ser Arryk had found her. 

“How pretty it is,” Aemond said as they entered the gardens. They welcomed the fresh air that breezed through the open space. The princess hummed in response as she felt a spark of familiarity in her chest of being in the gardens. What she did or who she was with, she could not recall, but that was alright. To see such things and be touched by the affinity of knowing was a good step forward.

They strolled through the gardens, the bright variety of flowers making her feel delighted to be surrounded by such beauty. She ran her fingertips on the ones that interested her, often stopping to smell some. Her eyes trained on a shrub filled with small, delicate blue flowers. 

As she stopped, her husband stopped right along with her. When Aemond turned to look at what his wife held in her hands, the sight of a familiar flower took him by surprise. Her favorite ones.

“Those are beautiful,” he said, with an amused smile. The blue spray of flowers was the same one he had gifted her throughout their courtship, a symbol of true and enduring love. 

His wife looked back at him with a familiar glint in her eyes. “They truly are, aren’t they?” She said, feeling the velvety surface of its petals against her fingertips. She hadn’t quite realized its significance to her and Aemond’s relationship, but she knew that she liked them.

“Do you know what they are called?” Her lord husband asked curiously. His good eye studied her face as she pondered, a glimmer of hope rose in his chest. 

“Forget-me-not,” She answered.

Aemond hummed in response, grinning with delight. They continued to walk hand-in-hand through the gardens, his lady wife swinging their hands. In any other case, he would not have allowed this, the formal man he was, but he let her, seeing the pleasant mood she was in. Conversation flowed between them, comfortable and light. The princess could sense when her husband would mention topics that could trigger her memory, and she tried to indulge him as much as she could. 

Aside from the couple that roamed the gardens, some lords and ladies of the court had also taken advantage of the pleasant weather. The sun shone brightly after days of cloudy gloom casting its shadow upon King’s Landing. 

The princess felt the stares at her and her husband, more so at her. She had been subject to their gazes ever since the incident. Most would look at her with pity for her circumstances, some with wonder as to how her and Aemond’s marriage still held strong. She did not miss the malicious stares from the ladies her age, no doubt thinking that the prince would soon tire of having to nurse his fragile wife.

Poor Prince Aemond, how ever could he endure having such a blank and empty shell of a wife?

The princess’ free had clutched Aemond’s arm, ducking her head with insecurity as they passed a group of nobles.

“They all stare,” she said lowly. Aemond sighed, caressing the back of her hand on his elbow comfortingly. 

“They do,” he said softly. He gave a sharp stare to the people they passed, leading his wife away. It was difficult to discount the looks they gave her, reminding him of his own experience when he had lost his eye. It angered him that they’d be so unkind to his wife, after all she’d been through. “We cannot worry about what they think of us, my love,” he comforted her.

She merely hummed in response, somewhat unconvinced. They continued their walk with her head ducked low, her bright spirit from earlier now dissipated.

Aemond led her to a secluded area, where they sat on a stone bench overlooking Blackwater Bay. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her close to plant a kiss on her forehead. “You must not let them bother you, dear wife,” he said against her skin. His wife let out a heavy sigh, leaning her head against his. 

“Do you not think of me a burden?” She mumbled, fingertips toying with the ends of his starlit hair. The guilt she felt for having imposed such an inconvenience on her lord husband weighed on her heavily. He was a prince of the realm, and he had no time to play healer to his own wife.

“No, never,” He emphasized, looking down to meet her eye. A large, calloused hand cupped her jaw. His thumb caressed her cheek while she leaned into his touch. 

“The circumstances given to us may not be the most favourable, yes, but I almost lost you, my love. I would have fought the Stranger with my own sword to have you returned to my side,” Aemond professed. Tears pricked at the corner of his wife’s eyes, her lips quivered from his overwhelming love. A single tear trailed down her cheek but was wiped away in haste by the prince’s thumb.

“What anyone else thinks or feels about you is not our concern. You are my concern,” he asserted, staring at her with adoration. The princess sniffled, before nodding to her husband, a whisper of thanks falling from her lips. Her eyes met his amethyst one, committing the sight of him lovingly in her memory. 

Hesitantly, she reached a hand to cup his cheek, before leaning forward to plant a soft peck on his lips. She liked the feeling of his lips, she decided. Her lips planted another kiss on his once more, deep and passionate. They kissed until she was out of breath, having to place a hand on her chest, panting.

In the following days, the princess awakened to a vase filled with blue forget-me-nots on her bedside table. She spent her time by her husband’s side, and when he was away she would indulge in different pursuits that pleased her. Fragments of her past had started to return to her, while some would forever be lost. She did not mourn this loss, for she had found that the new ones she shared with Aemond were filled with the same fondness. Falling for her husband the second time around did not require great difficulty to achieve, not when he made it so easy for her to love him.

[muletia]

you've mentioned pegging optimus until he's rambling about getting pregnant, but I NEED u to go more into detail about it. literally foaming at the mouth at the idea of almost taunting him "hmm, any deeper and I'll get you pregnant". him just losing it and begging to be sparked, so u fuck him until he's drooling and borderline incoherent, but still moaning about getting knocked up 😊

𝐢 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐦 ✧˖°

pegging tfp optimus would fix me actually

cw: valveplug, dom!top!reader, sub!bottom!optimus, pegging, l-bomb, breeding kink, reader uses a strap

word count: 750

He feels too much. Too intensely. Processor has long dismissed logic, replacing coherent thoughts with mindless, shapeless ones resembling tangled threads. Now, there is no responsibility; the stress of gnawing problems has been replaced by pure ecstasy. Feels it everywhere, even at the tips of his digits, which scrape at the berth in search of a nonexistent anchor. His pedes behave similarly. Thighs tremble from the overwhelming pleasure you so generously bestow upon him. He knows he is not making your task easier, but he cannot stop the quivering — proof of how thoroughly you have ruined him.

“You’re doing great, darling,” you praise him, even though Optimus is just laying beneath you looking pretty. This time, the pleasure is all his. “Keep it up, and perhaps we’ll truly end up with a child.”

At the mere mention of having offspring with you, his back arches, and his helm tilts back. Once again, he makes your work harder; feels it in the sudden change in rhythm deep within his valve. But he cannot help it. Besides, you quickly prove how perfectly harmonized you are by adapting to him. You move closer, pressing your hips more firmly against his. Your thighs meet his, smearing themselves with transfluid — a testament to the length of your shared indulgence.

“[Name], ah…” he tries to speak, but it does not come easily. Processor fails to align with his voice box. “Please…”

He cannot finish the sentence when you suddenly pick up speed, thrusting with full force into his poor, battered valve. It looks swollen and is utterly filled with blue fluid, which drips off your fake cock, but this poses no obstacle for Optimus. Despite the sweet torment, he does not want it to end. Not until he is certain that new life will be created within him, ignoring the absurdity and impossibility of it all.

“What’s the matter, darling?” you ask. Is it cruelty, or are you teasing innocently? He cannot tell, but he does not hold it against you. As long as you are inside him, you can do anything you want.

“[Name]…” he tries again. “Nhnn, I beg you… ah! Please, give me a sparkling! Hah, please! I want… I-I want to be sparked…”

Tears pool in the corners of his optics. You are also certain that the glistening substance around his mouth is his equivalent of saliva.

Holy shit. The great Optimus Prime reduced to a begging, drooling, mindless wreck. Thanks to you. The sight before you is entirely your doing. All it took was once mentioning the topic of children and pregnancy, casually letting it slip during the climax that you would love to have a child with him. As a fantasy, a byproduct of diving too deep into domspace. And he took the bait, completely enchanted by the idea of you knocking him up, even though he knows it is impossible.

Well, for such a sight, it was worth feeding his delusions.

“Since you are asking so nicely…” you murmur.

Your eyes meet, and at that moment, you grab the blue armor plates on his hips and push the silicone cock deeper until you are pressed tightly together. Optimus roars, overwhelmed by you, but he still seems to draw closer, craving more. He wants to become one, to unite in the most intimate way.

“I… I love you,” he mumbles. Your gazes cross again.

“Oh yes, I’m getting you pregnant, big boy.”

You move your hips again. This time faster, leaving no room for doubt about your intentions. You will break the laws of biology if you must.

He feels you relentlessly pumping his own transfluid back into him, as if to assure him you will fulfill his illusory wish.

“Ah, yes! T-thank you, thank you…” he whines. His back arches again, digits claw ferociously at the berth.

He does not know how much longer he can hold out before his body gives up entirely and he won't be able to move even his optics. But he wants to savor this. The fleeting moment, because he does not know when the next one will come. And your kindness, your willingness to tend to him and satisfy his warped, corporeal needs.

“I want… I want a sparkling, ah! with you,” he moans, lost in the subspace. “Give me one, nhnn [Name], I beg you!”

“I love you too,” you pant.

More transfluid spills from his valve, but Optimus gives you no sign to stop, still focused on his mission. Babbling nonsense about pregnancy and having offspring. Preferably several.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Trauma Responses

Over-sharing

Over-explaining

Trauma dumping

Hyper-independence

Hypersexualization

People pleasing

Trauma is a mental injury, and our body may react to unconscious memories of significant negative events unknown even to us. Our body subconsciously protects us from future trauma.

How we respond to trauma has consequential implications on how we live our lives. Trauma responses ensure physical and emotional safety; however, these unintended reactions may interfere with our ability to flourish.

Trauma responses are innate; they occur without our consciousness.

A reaction to a perceived threat is called a trauma response. It is a survival instinct; it is reflexive and automatic.

Your body reacts to this perceived threat without your approval. Smells and sounds may remind your clients of the trauma they experienced and bring about memories that perhaps at one time were repressed. Despite the individual’s awareness, the unconscious self still remembers, and the body reacts.

A trauma response is how your nervous system has adapted following a significant situation and can manifest in various ways, whether there is an actual threat, or a threat is perceived.

Trauma responses cause a person to be hypervigilant, which may create an overwhelmed individual under normal circumstances. Contrarily, a person experiencing hypervigilance may also prove to be an effective person during crises. Trauma responses get a bad rap; however, if clients can recognize them, they can prevent them from controlling their lives.

Typical Trauma Response Types

Originally, fight and flight were thought to be the only responses to stress, which focused on the autonomic nervous system (McCarty, 2016; Katz et al., 2021).

Freeze, as a trauma response type, was later developed after observing lab rats in stressful situations (Katz et al., 2021).

Today, the 4 most commonly known trauma response types include fight, flight, freeze, and fawn. Each of these actions is an adaptive, functional short-term survival counteraction.

Fight

As we know, the fight response involves combativeness toward the perpetrator. Example demonstrations of fight may include kicking, punching, or threatening the attacker (Katz et al., 2021). It may also include being verbally argumentative and yelling.

If an individual is quick to anger, they may be demonstrating a fight trauma response. This symptom of arousal may indicate self-criticism when someone feels internally threatened (Germer & Neff, 2015).

This reaction may include any attempt to stand up against a threat. It is a form of assertiveness. At a healthy level, it delineates healthy boundaries.

At a primal level, if an animal feels it is being attacked, it may choose to fight back if the threat is manageable. If the animal feels that it cannot successfully fight the threat, it may resort to our next trauma response.

Flight

Flight involves literally or metaphorically running from an actual or perceived danger. It is an act of nonconfrontation and avoidance of a threat. More importantly, it is a biologically determined sequence of responses to stress (Bracha, 2004). Flight is a disengagement from the stress-inducing stimulus. Paired with fight, it is the cornerstone of stress response research by Walter B. Cannon (McCarty, 2016).

Flight may include the habit of leaving the room or fleeing from the home following an argument. It may also include drug and alcohol abuse to avoid emotions. Further, individuals demonstrating the flight response may be disconnected from their family, friends, or coworkers. Someone exhibiting the flight response may isolate themselves.

Over-sharing, over-explaining, and trauma dumping may indicate compartmentalization. If an individual shows compartmentalization, it may mean that they are unconsciously trying to distance themselves from the trauma, thus allowing them to speak of the event nonchalantly.

Further, this practice allows the individual to avoid direct confrontation or processing of the distressing experience. Considering the purpose of divulging the information, this response could also be intended to gain attention (Shabahang et al., 2022), including sympathy or validation.

Individuals may be unconsciously seeking external support or validation to cope with the trauma. Seeking refuge or solace in the empathy or validation of others is an illustration of the flight response.

Hyper-independence occurs when an individual internalizes that dependence on others is unsafe. They avoid asking for help and instead build a wall. This could be a trauma response of flight, as the individual is avoiding an interaction or relationship.

Hypersexualization may also suggest a flight response. Someone who is hypersexual may be fleeing from other emotions.

Likewise, this response may also represent the fawn response as an attempt to please others, which we will discuss later.

Freeze

This is an effective technique when fight or flight are not an option (d’Andrea et al., 2013). When the typical fight-or-flight responses are put on hold, this is considered the freeze response (Kozlowska et al., 2015).

This stress response involves the typical stop, look, and listen response and commands hypervigilance (Bracha, 2004). An individual may resort to this response when assessing a situation. Some suggest this response precedes the fight-or-flight, as the animal or victim is determining which response to employ.

Example: During a bear encounter, physically attacking the bear may be unwise; likewise, running from the bear may not be helpful either. Feigning death may be your way out of this critical situation. This immobility eliminates auditory and visual clues that would otherwise provoke aggression (Baldwin, 2013).

Binge eating could be considered a freeze response (Rodriguez-Quiroga et al., 2021). Instead of facing the situation, a person who engages in binge eating consumes an unusually large amount of food in a relatively short amount of time. This type of food consumption may serve as self-soothing behavior or self-medication.

Eating large quantities of food may induce a dissociative state, thus providing an escape and helping to cope with the overwhelming experience of trauma. This type of eating disorder can be just as dangerous as bulimia and anorexia.

This stress response helps the individual to hide, and it shows that you are not a threat. Further, the person experiencing the freeze response is provided the opportunity to process the threat.

Fawn

This lesser-known and least-understood trauma response may be confused with being a character trait. Arguably, this may be the only response where one engages with the potential threat and attempts to change the other person’s behavior. The trauma response stems from our innate need for social connection and co-regulation.

In this response, a person may mirror the other individual’s gestures, facial expressions, or speech. They are hypervigilant about everyone’s happiness and safety in the room.

Physically speaking, individuals who consistently show fawning as their trauma response may also experience temporomandibular joint disorder (TMJ), more commonly known as lockjaw, or pain in their jaw (Kim et al., 2009). They are overly agreeable and frequently sacrifice their boundaries.

For example, a man orders a well-done steak with a side salad from a notable restaurant. What he receives is a steak that is cooked medium rare with a side of French fries. That was not his order; however, he does not bring this oversight to the server’s attention for fear of disappointing someone, whether that be the wait staff or the chef.

People who frequently demonstrate the fawn response may be described as people pleasers, workaholics, over-explainers, and over-apologizers. During a traumatic event, a victim may experience Stockholm syndrome, which is when an individual attempts to appease one’s abuser or captor (Bailey et al., 2023).

Codependency can also be a fawn response (Walker, 2013). This is an unhealthy and dysfunctional relationship dynamic involving one person assuming the role of the “giver.” This response may also be referred to as the “friend” and “appease” response.

Lesser-Known Responses to Trauma

Besides the typical fight, flight, freeze, and fawn, there are a few more responses you may not be familiar with. Fright, flag, and faint are a few of the lesser-known trauma responses that are theorized by professionals of this field.

Fright

The fright response indicates tonic immobility. At first, the freeze response was theorized; however, it soon became apparent that this response could be differentiated from fright (Katz et al., 2021).

Similar to freeze and faint, the person experiencing fright will play dead, so to speak (Bracha, 2004). This is better understood when a predator has its prey in its grasp, and the prey goes limp and ceases its struggle to make itself less desirable for consumption. In this case, the fright response involves a heightened state of arousal and readiness to confront or flee from danger.

Flag

The flag response is characterized by numbness of emotion, cognitive failure, a drop in arousal, and surrender. Schauer and Elbert (2015) assert that the flag response is part of a sequence of six fear responses that progress as a function of defense during a life-threatening situation. The cascade consists of the following responses in sequential order: freeze – flight – fight – fright – flag – and faint.

The individual’s attention may be elsewhere, and they may feel like they are observing themself, which is an example of disassociation. This is a built-in defense mechanism that increases pain tolerance or numbs emotional response.

The person who experienced the trauma may exhibit memory lapses as their brain attempts to protect its emotional well-being.

Faint

Also a biologically determined response to acute stress defense, faint is a lesser-known response (Bracha, 2004).

This may also be referred to as the “flop” response, also indicative of tonic immobility and is a preferable option for the body when fight or flight is not possible. A common example of this phenomenon is when a person sees blood and literally faints from the sight of it. They are not “playing dead” as illustrated in the fright response; their body unconsciously suspends movement.

Instead of the arousal and readiness associated with the fright response, this type of response centers around immobility in response to overwhelming stress.

Clients who have been diagnosed with PTSD may benefit from the following techniques:

Sensory Grounding

To help them ground themself and bring awareness, encourage your client to try the following practice: Name 5 things you can see, 4 things you can hear, 3 things you can touch, 2 things you can smell, and 1 thing you can taste.

They could also carry a grounding smell, such as a scented lotion, perfume, or cologne, or carry a grounding sensory object, such as a fidget or soft item.

These grounding tools can be used discretely and have profound effects.

Cognitive Grounding

A process where clients must show themselves that they are safe.

They could verbally review the following thoughts: Remind yourself where the trauma occurred and how physically far you are from that location. Remind yourself when the trauma occurred and how long ago that was. Repeat inspiring quotes say coping statements such as:

I can handle this.

These feelings are temporary.

My present situation is different.

Source ⚜ More: Writing Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

[monster-effer]

Tender Kisses and Birthday Wishes - Sylus x reader

Summary: It’s Sylus’ birthday and you decide to surprise him with something special. Content: fluff, Sylus being a lover boy, a little ✨suggestive✨, massaging, kisses, affection, gn reader (746 wc) A/N: Even though I’m in creativity slump rn, I still wanted to write something sweet for the love of my life. In the same vein as Magnum Opus - Sylus is being pampered by the reader, because he deserves it ♡

Birthday Boy!Sylus who is curious about your plans for his birthday this year. He’s expressed that he has all the material items he could ever need, so gifts are not necessary or expected. Yet he has seen the charges racking up on his black card over the past month, not that he minded. He has practically begged you to use it. And now that you are, it has been difficult to stop himself from taking a peek at the credit card statement. He loves letting you plan things, and he cannot wait to see the results.

Birthday Boy!Sylus who happily lets you blind fold and lead him by the hand towards his surprise. With senses as sharp as his he can hear Luke and Kieran whispering to each other and Mephisto excitedly fluttering in the entryway.

Birthday Boy!Sylus is left speechless when you remove the blindfold from his eyes. He carefully takes in the room you’ve transformed into a massage parlor. There is a well-built, leather massage table in the middle of the room. The black out curtains are drawn closed and red candles serve as the only source of light in the room, giving off a romantic vibe. Soothing nature sounds from your curated playlist can be heard playing in the background. And a pleasing mix of lavender and chamomile wafts through the room, stemming from essential oil diffuser in the corner of the room. He is impressed to say the least.

Birthday Boy!Sylus turns towards you with a soft look in his eyes and a soft smile on his lips that only grows as you begin to speak. “Welcome Mr. Sylus, I will be your personal massage therapist today. Please feel free to remove your clothing and make yourself comfortable on the massage table. We offer a selection of massage oils in different scents including-”

Birthday Boy!Sylus who is half listening to your spiel because he’s trying so hard not to tear up. No one has ever done something so personal and intimate like this for him (not that he would have let them). He feels…special and cared for in a way that is hard for him to express. From your tumultuous reunion in the N109 Zone, to your adventure in the grassland, to the present day. He wouldn’t change anything you two have been through because he got to spend time with you.

Birthday Boy!Sylus who watches you leave the room after your well rehearsed speech and dutifully follows the bits of instructions he recalled. He completely undresses, climbs under the blanket, and places his face in the cradle of the massage table. Then he closes his eyes as he awaits your return.

Birthday Boy!Sylus who is impressed by how thoroughly you are digging into the knots and sore spots in his neck and back. He can’t help but let out groans and perhaps a whimper as tension— he wasn’t previously aware of — is released from his body. Your soft hands have lulled him into a blissfully fuzzy state which sits somewhere between tranquility and slumber. He is putty in your hands, and he would not have it any other way.

Birthday Boy!Sylus who turns over onto his back at your prompting, unashamedly sporting an erection. How could he be anything but aroused with your hands all over him? He loves it when you touch him freely. When you take liberties and show him, and anyone else around, that he belongs to you. He has been yours since you met in the Abyss and will remain yours in this lifetime and the next.

Birthday Boy!Sylus who is fighting the urge to buck his hips as you tenderly massage his chest, teasingly brush across his nipples and begin to work on his ironclad thighs. The glare he sends your way is dampened by his half-lidded gaze. He purposefully ignores your adorable giggles and whispered request for him to relax. As if that’s an easy task, especially at a time like this.

Birthday Boy!Sylus who silently laments the inevitable conclusion of his massage because he could stay in this moment with you for a lifetime. He practically purrs when you begin to run your fingers through his hair, massage his temples and jaw, then finish by giving him a tender kiss on his lips.

If Birthday Boy!Sylus happens to pull you on top of him for a deeper kiss and possibly more…you don’t bother teasing him about being needy. It is his birthday after all.

divider by: @/saradika-graphics

[heron-knight]

long-distance mech pilots don’t need to worry quite so much about traveling light. when you’re walking around in several tons of metal, especially one built to wander, you aren’t quite to the point of needing to choose which of two keepsakes you have room in your bag for— there’s plenty of space for both.

Things are different for interstellar knights.

You see, whether wandering alone or setting off on some quest for their lord, a knight’s only home is their armor. Anything they bring with them, they must carry within that armor, even through battles— and as such, every gram and every cubic centimeter can make the difference between life and death, and every calorie chosen to replace a keepsake can make the difference between survival and starvation. As such, a knight’s inventory is heavily optimized— and so is their armor itself. What matters more, the heating system or the EVA boosters? The extra fuel storage or the emergency release mechanisms? Pick one, and you’ll have no room for the other unless you can cut corners somewhere else. Every single element of a knight’s armor is there because they made the conscious decision to put it there. Every weapon they’ve attached to their shell had to replace some traditional aspect of a life support system. Every inch of their shells are packed full of every system that can fit until it’s tight against the pilot’s skin to leave them bruised whenever they exit their shell.

it doesn’t take long for them to realize which superfluous components are the weakest link.

They start small, at first— often as simple as a haircut to help a tighter helmet fit better. Some try to lose weight, but quickly regret it when they find themselves near starvation on some distant moon. The ones that survive past their first year are the ones that are willing to take things a bit further— the toes on both feet, to make room for a slight jump booster. One of their ribs, perhaps— replaced with a battery that connects to the armor through a cable that winds around bones and muscles. It’s only a matter of time before they do something about those bones and muscles too.

those who have only heard the stories will say that a knight’s armor is their home. Those who have met one, seen them exit their armor and seen just how little is left of the body inside— they will say that a knight’s armor is a part of their body. Integrated into them until they cannot survive without it. Both are wrong. Even some knights cannot pin down the true answer— what they really feel as they connect their armor to the components of it that they have placed inside of them. The best ones do, though. They know it well.

A knight’s armor is not a part of their body. Their body is a part of their armor— their home, to be renovated and optimized as they see fit. To be replaced, improved, amputated and eviscerated so that it can be remade into the glorious works of art that the heroes of the galaxy become as they charge into battle and become a story worth remembering.

As the armor learns to reach into your veins, pulling oxygen from the carbon dioxide you exhale and weaving it back into your blood, the space once taken up by inefficient organic lungs becomes the home of the heating system, warming you from within no matter what part of the void between stars you find yourself in. As it recycles amino acids into proteins again and infuses them back into what tissues remain, you’re free to remove your old digestive organs and find a home for your armor’s main computer, kept safe at the center of your shell. Many knights choose to put their own organic brain down there next to it, incidentally making room for more optical systems in their skulls.

Your armor is no longer simply “a part of you” and you are no longer simply “a part of it.” It is you. You are it. Your bones, its power cells, your organs its systems. You are its brain and its CPU in equal measure and its beautiful exterior plates, painted with the symbols of the lord you serve or simply the cause you stand for, will inspire others to take up arms themselves and let themselves become part of it.

your body, your home, your masterpiece

[lxupid]

thinking about isagi being best friends with your little sister :(((

you bring him to your house for the first time so he can meet your family, which is where he immediately becomes enamoured by perhaps the cutest thing he’s ever seen (apart from you hehe) and of course she ends up loving him. and not because he’s famous, or older, etc… but because he will never say no to playing with her!!

its gotten to the point where if you two are with your baby sister, you cannot leave them alone- unless you want him to be whisked away from you to join her in carrying out a very crucial fairy hunt, one that results in them almost getting lost in the woods.

although it really has been biting into your alone time with your boyfriend, your heart refuses to hold onto any existing annoyance when you walk into your room to see them curled up beside each other on your bed- a purposeful gap left in between, one that was made just for you <3

[morose-melodies]

the nameless stowaway | yandere! capitano x reader

summary: while on a ship trying to get to natlan, the captain found a way to pass time; watching you, a stowaway.

content warning: the captain killed someone and that's about it!! (tell me if I missed anything)

for two days and three long nights had the captain been on this ship as it aimlessly navigated the sea.

it started on the second day when the ship went slightly off course. the captain of the ship could not figure out how to get back on course and now, the captain was forced to remain on the ship and slowly get sick of it and everyone on the ship.

besides him, eight other people occupied the ship, not including the captain of the ship... oh, and you were also there.

you were a sneaky stowaway and he only ever caught glances of you at night - watching as you snagged snacks from people's bags and ran back to wherever you had come from.

he didn't mind, nor did he care enough to stop you, that was, as long as you didn't try it on him.

but, tonight was a bit different - instead of stealing from people's bags, you snuck into the galley and shut the door behind yourself. the captain chuckled, you would have a feast tonight.

most of the passengers had felt too sick to eat that morning, so most of the food had been left untouched.

you had eaten all that you could, hoping it would keep you full enough for the next two days before creeping out of the galley. you knew that the captain knew, and considering all you had heard about him, you were afraid that one day he could come and behead you for stealing people's food.

but he hadn't, not yet at least.

you went back to your hiding place, behind a large pile of luggage, and snuggled up in your thin, sort of damp blanket and rested - soon enough, you'd be in natlan.

...

when a storm came, and the waves got violet and rocked the ship - you could not rest behind the luggage, let alone outside. you got up from where you rested, blanket over your shoulder as the cold rain pelted down on your skin.

no one was out; all of them rested in the berth, and you could not enter it since you had snuck onto the ship.

at this point, you were shivering, tumbling, and drenched in rain - seeing no point in your blanket anymore, you tossed it away, as you did, you saw the captain, standing at the door of the berth... exiting it?

you stilled, this was the perfect time for him to kill you, right? he would toss you overboard and no one would notice or even know that he had killed you, maybe, or maybe he would draw his sword and chop you up into little piec-

"I'm sure you must be regretting your decision to sneak onto this ship now, right?" it was an idle conversation or perhaps a threat, was he threatening to tell everyone?

"oh? sorta... but, it'll be fine once we get to natlan."

"I doubt we'll make it to natlan. it seems more likely that we end up back in snezhaya," the captain sighed afterward - he would have to report to the tsaritsa and blame the captain of the ship which seemed all so childish.

"huh? I thought this ship was headed to natlan..."

oh, you looked so very disappointed. the captain shook his head, "that's no longer the case. the captain has no idea where he's headed."

"aren't you the captain?"

"the captain of the ship," he clarified, shrugging his coat from his shoulders and approaching you, placing it over your trembling shoulders, "I'm afraid i cannot make room for you in the berth - you'll have to make do with my coat."

...

and, of course, you made due.

you survived the storm - you might have come down with something but you survived. as you lay in your hiding spot, the large coat over your shoulders, you waited for the passengers to finish their breakfast so you could have the leftovers.

it was a while before you heard the passengers quiet down, and you figured they had split up, leaving the galley, so you got up, leaving the coat behind, and snuck into the galley.

they had hardly left anything behind today.

"hm..." still, you ate whatever was left behind. though it wasn't filling, it was something and you were grateful.

after finishing, you turned to leave but there stood the captain - wait, how long has he been standing there? "have you been watching me?"

"nonsense," he replied with a firm shake of his head, before stepping past you, "I see you haven't changed in your ways?" was he teasing? of course you haven't changed! you were starving and-

the captain set a plate of untouched biscuits and other foods on the counter, "woah... where'd you get those from?" you inched towards the plate, grabbed the biscuit, and ate it.

"it's all leftovers."

"those guys are hogs," you mumbled as you stuffed your face with another biscuit.

and the captain bit back a smile.

...

it was times like these where you doubted if you'd survive - for the last five days, all you could smell was saltwater and humid air, and now, you could smell nothing.

you hadn't bothered to get up for a while now - instead, you remained curled up in the captain's coat, pitying yourself.

perhaps this wasn't worth it...

"stowaway, where are you?"

it was the captain. he had been looking for you for a while now - he was under the assumption that you had fallen overboard but he couldn't be sure since he did not know where you went to hide every day after snagging food.

you didn't want to reply, but found yourself doing so anyway, "'m here."

the captain paused and turned to face the pile of luggage. "have you been hiding here the entire time?"

"yeah..."

you didn't sound well, not at all. the captain pushed the luggage aside and though you groaned and protested, he tugged you out of your hiding spot, his coat still wrapped around you.

"you took no precaution before getting onto the ship, did you?" the captain looked at you - sickly and pale, and sighed. "stay here, don't move an inch," he instructed you before standing and walking off.

first, he ruins your hiding spot, and then he walks off? it was a shame you were too tired to fuss about it.

when the captain came back, he had a warm drink in hand. he crouched down to your level, took your hand, and placed the drink into your hand, "I doubt it'll cure you, but, you're deathly cold, it will surely warm you but I'm afraid this is all i can do to help."

"thank you," you mumbled before sipping at the drink.

while you sipped at your drink, the captain fixed your hiding spot that he had ruined and felt the urge to give you another one of his coats to keep you comfortable, but he resisted.

...

each day, the captain would bring you a warm drink to help your cold clear up, and though he doubted it would work, you were already feeling much better.

you had crawled out of your hiding spot for the first time in a while, the captain's coat over your shoulders and you snuck to the galley.

just as you opened the door, you knew you had messed up - there was a man inside, and he had seen you.

you weakly smiled at the man, as you took a step back while he took steps towards you, "are you the rat that's been stealing all the leftovers?"

"i... um, maybe?"

"and are you the rat that's been stealing from people's luggage?"

"yes, but i'm sorry! i won't do it again, i promise-"

everything you had said was enough to piss the man off and the sight of you wearing the captain's coat only made him angrier.

the man grabbed your upper arm and tugged you along with him, even as you whined and tried to explain yourself, he did not listen.

"look, I'm sorry i won't do it again-"

"i don't wanna hear it from you-"

"I'll take the stowaway from here," it was the captain, once again swooping in and saving you, "good looking out. I'll make sure they cause you no more trouble."

the captain grabbed your arm and tugged you from the man's grip, pulling you along as he walked off, out of the man's sight. "you need to stay put," the captain commented as he brought you back to your hiding spot, "go on. I'll bring you something to eat - I'll do that for you every day, will that keep you out of trouble?"

"you don't have to-"

"I will. now, stay out of trouble."

...

"what'd you do with that stowaway?"

"i did away with them."

"really now?"

"of course. i would not lie."

"good, if you hadn't stopped me that day, i would have done it mysel-"

the man could do nothing but scream as he fell overboard and into the cold water.

soon enough he would die.

this was the preferable way, there was no need for the captain to bloody his sword over something so trivial.

...

"don't you feel hot wearing all of that armor?"

"not particularly."

"what about the mask, isn't that hot?"

"no."

"is that your hair?"

reaching forward, you tangled your fingers in his long black hair, "it is," the captain gently nudged your hand away, "there's no need to touch, though."

as sweet as you were, he had seen you sneeze into your hand moments earlier.

"my bad," you apologized, setting your hand to your side, "do i have to give you your coat back ever?"

"we've been over this, no? i have many other coats, so, keep that one," the captain replied, looking at you and the way your lip twitched at his reply.

"look at that cloud," you pointed above the two of you, and the captain looked up, "it's heart-shaped."

"I see that," he nodded before glancing at you; the way you smiled at a silly cloud was - hm, the captain found himself smiling while looking at you.

odd.

"wait-" you stood up, quickly running towards the railing and pointed ahead, "do you see that?? isn't that land??"

the captain also stood and looked to where you were pointing, and indeed, it was land. "you have a keen eye," the captain looked at you, at the way you grinned, at the way you held yourself, and dare he say he would miss you.

"ohmigosh!!" you cheered, leaning further over the railing to see where you were going... you saw snow and your shoulders dropped, "no way..."

the captain chuckled, looking at you once more, "this was all such an inconvenience," but, in a way, it felt worth it; after all, he was able to meet you.

"you were pretty cool, thanks for the coat... and um, thank you for not throwing me overboard or something," you looked up at the captain to see he was already looking at you.

"I wouldn't dream of harming you," the captain assured you and though you couldn't see it, he had hearts in his eyes as he looked at you.

he did not want this ship to reach snezhnaya - he preferred things stay the way they were but he knew that couldn't happen.

the captain was patient; he could wait. a person like you wouldn't give up on their dreams so easily.