#and i wonder if i’m going to just self-destruct one day

[titan-god-helios]

fuck, audhd burnout is a bitch.

[explodinglotion]

it’s raining hard

[chuluoyi]

𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇 𝐌𝐄 𝐈𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐀𝐍

- sylus x reader

when your husband went away without so much as a proper notice, you thought you wouldn't forgive him so easily. but he tries everything to capture your heart back: spoiling and indulging you… little do you know that he expects a reward in return

genre/warnings: 18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact!—rotten fluff, domestic bliss, explicit smut, cunnilingus, fingering, mating press, taking elements from sylus' card night of secrecy, secret times approaching dusk and spoilers! from myth beyond cloudfall

note: my first sylus x mc fic! with this i'm spreading the soft!sylus agenda and that spicy 4-star approaching dusk has destroyed me :') loosely based on this post

Sometimes, you do wonder... does Sylus really think you're that easy to placate?

On one chilly morning, you woke up only to discover your hunk of a husband gone... and in his side of the bed, a sticky note.

Your eyebrow twitched as you read the audacious message scrawled on it:

Hey, kitten. I need to leave for a few days. There are things I have to handle on my own. Take care of yourself while I’m away. I’ll come back soon.

That was it. No clear explanation, no further details. Just those vague words in such short notice. The day before, he’d seemed like his usual self, not a hint of this sudden departure in sight.

It irked you. It made your heart clench at the same time. Because even after marrying you, Sylus remained elusive, playing his cryptic games. It was beyond you how he didn't even stop to consider how you were left worrying about him while he drifted in and out of his dangerous world without a second thought.

You understood the reality of your lives—that you were a hunter and he was the Onychinus leader, and that to be with him meant you had to walk that fine gray line between light and dark.

And you'd already made your choice. You had accepted it—accepted him—wholly. Even when your marriage had been a rushed affair and registered under false names to protect both your identities.

Things couldn't go on like this. You had to teach him a lesson too.

As your irritation simmered into determination, a devious plan began to take shape in your mind—a way to spite him just enough to make your point crystal clear.

Two days later

Sylus was done with his dirty business faster than he thought, and to appease you, he had come bearing gifts.

The precious little thing that is now his wife, of course he missed you too. But your safety was a price he wasn’t willing to gamble. If going away to take care of those pests meant your peace would be unperturbed, then he would leave without hesitation.

However, as he stepped inside the base, his relief quickly turned to unease. The space was eerily empty, the usual hum of activity conspicuously absent.

Normally, you’d be at the center of some commotion, locked in a spat with either Mephisto, or Luke and Kieran. But now—

“What do we do?! She’s gone!”

Sylus immediately rushed to the source of the ruckus, thinking something bad had happened to you. He found his henchmen standing in a tight, anxious circle around the coffee table.

“What happened?” he demanded.

Without a word, they stepped aside, revealing the object of their concern: a single note lying on the table.

He snatched it up, scanning the words. Then, he let out a sharp exhale of relief, a smirk began tugging at the corners of his lips.

Catch me if you can.

Typical. Absolutely typical. And maddeningly you.

. . .

That night, you had a very strange dream, it felt almost felt like stepping into the pages of an ancient tale.

You were a fallen princess wrongfully accused as a sorceress, who began consorting with the fearsome fiend from the Abyss.

The sorceress and her dragon. Together, you were an infamous pair, a dark legend whispered across generations. Your union had ignited Doomsday itself... and yet, amidst the turmoil and destruction, the sorceress fell in love with the dragon... deeply and irrevocably.

The dragon, in turn, was utterly bewitched by his little witch. He indulged your every whim, no matter how mischievous or perilous, and though he rarely spoke of his true feelings, he always found ways to show his affection.

The lucid dream felt as though it might go on forever, but you were pulled from it by the soft brush of lips against your forehead. The warmth lingered, blurring the lines between dream and reality, until your eyes fluttered open.

“Sylus...?” His features, fresh from your dream, now materialized in your reality. It took you a few seconds to realize that he had come here—

“Morning, sweetie.” His voice was rich and smooth, with that familiar, mischievous edge. A smirk curled on his devilishly handsome face as he leaned in, garnet eyes gleaming with playful intent. “Caught you now, hmm?”

The haze of sleep vanished in an instant, and you were suddenly wide awake. In a flurry, you shoved him away and turned your back on him, trying to regain some semblance of control.

You’d left the N109 Zone for one of his safehouses in suburban Chansia City, thinking it would take him some effort to track you down. Clearly, you’d underestimated him.

“Oh. The kitten is in a bad mood, it seems.” Sylus’ gaze lingered on you, amusement flickering in his eyes. “Well, what do I owe the ire for?”

“...”

“Silent treatment, huh? The lady of the house is getting better at our little games while I was away.”

“...”

“Remember, sweetie, there’s no divorce in our relationship, hmm? If you’re tired of me, keep taking naps.”

You felt the weight shift as he rose from the bed and stalked away. The door clicked shut, leaving you in the silence of the room.

You wanted to resent him for coming and going on his terms, for never offering even an apology. Yet, no matter how much you tried, a part of you remained hopelessly tethered to him. The part that couldn’t ignore the reminder of the dragon from your dream—captivating, powerful, and infuriatingly hard to resist.

You love him, really you do.

. . .

When you didn’t come down for breakfast some time later, Sylus barged into the room once again, and this time he came up with a different approach.

“My lady,” he began, his voice sickeningly low and sweet, but his eyes gleamed with a touch of mischief. “You haven’t had breakfast yet. Please come down.”

You shot him a look, unamused, and decided to play his game as you crossed your arms together. “What if I don't want to?”

His smirk only grew, his tone dripping with mock formality. “And what must I do to change your mind?”

Despite yourself, you couldn’t help but notice his persistence. He had chased you here, given you more time to sleep in, and now stood before you to get you to eat. You felt your resolve beginning to soften—maybe just a little.

“Carry me there,” you said with a hint of defiance, lifting your chin high, daring him to follow through.

Sylus tilted his head, failing to restrain his snort. “As you wish, my lady.”

He placed his arms around you effortlessly, one hand beneath your knees and the other supporting your back, lifting you into a flawless princess carry. You instinctively put your arms around his neck, and he turned to you.

You opened your mouth, ready to fire off a sharp retort, but before you could, he dived in—

Smooch!

—and planted a bold, wet kiss on your lips. You, wide-eyed, punched his chest in retaliation. “Sylus!”

He chuckled, entirely unfazed. “Careful now, sweetie. Wiggle too much, and you’ll fall.”

He carried you downstairs, effortlessly navigating each step with you still in his arms. Once there, he gently set you down onto the dining chair, and that was when you noticed the table.

Salad, slightly burnt toast, scrambled eggs, milk—simple dishes by all means, but the thought the big, bad Sylus making them?

Wait. When you arrived last night, this place was a dusty shell, and the refrigerator had practically nothing—

“You cleaned the place?” you asked, your tone laced with surprise as your turned from the spotless room to him.

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Why is that so surprising? I can cook and clean just like everyone else.”

It sent a wave of warmth through your chest. He’d prepared food and cleaned the place knowing you’d be hungry and uncomfortable with dust all around.

You huffed, trying to hide how your heart fluttered. “No, your cooking skills are questionable at best.”

As if to prove you wrong, Sylus disappeared into the pantry and reemerged with a tray of warm, freshly baked dough that filled the room with a heavenly aroma.

“You are... baking?” You approached him, mystified at the sight of your husband, who usually at the scene of crime, behind the counter and started frosting the cupcakes.

He set the frosting bag down and picked up a cupcake, holding it to your lips with a teasing smile. “Here. Open up.”

Dutifully, you nibbled on the cupcake, and the sweetness immediately spread into your mouth. “It's tasty,” you mumbled, blinking at him. His eyes crinkled with satisfaction as he gestured toward the tray.

“Go have some more.”

Grinning, you grabbed another cupcake and eagerly took a bite. Munching away, you missed how Sylus’ gaze softened, his bright red eyes focused solely on you.

He couldn't resist pinching your full cheeks at that moment.

“Sy-wus!” you protested, glaring at him. His laughter broke free that instant, warm and unrestrained.

Utterly funny, utterly precious—that’s what you were to him.

Indignant, you scooped up some icing from the cupcake and smeared it right across his face. The stunned look he gave you was priceless, and before he could react, you burst into a fit of giggles and bolted out of the kitchen.

But as you reached the base of the stairs, a strong arm caught your waist from behind, halting your escape. You squealed in surprise, “Noooo!”

Sylus leaned closer and pressed you to his chest, his voice rumbling in your ear. “Ha. Did you really think you could get away that easily?”

He lifted you up with one arm and brought you back to the kitchen, setting you down on the counter and trapping you in place with his arms braced on either side. His eyes sparkled with mirth as he leaned in, and with a grin, he bumped his frosting-smeared nose against yours, leaving a sticky smudge.

“This is unfair!” you protested, still caught in a fit of giggles as you looped your arms around his neck for balance. Sylus chuckled along with you, his gaze steady and warm, never leaving yours.

Being with Sylus in the kitchen like this, savoring simple meals and smearing each other with frosting, it made you realize that you craved this domestic bliss more than you thought.

As the laughter subsided and you both settled into the quiet, your expression softened, all your previous grievances forgotten. The tenderness in your eyes said everything you didn’t need words for, and Sylus could see it clearly—you adored him, just as much as he adored you.

The one who gazed into his jewel-like eyes, embraced his burning soul and sang to him in the night wind... is once again in his arms. A part of him was almost sentimental at the thought.

Instinctively, he closed the distance between you, his lips hovering just a breath away from yours. But as they were about to meet, he paused, as if hesitating, leaving you puzzled.

Then, without a second thought—

To hell with it.

You chose to abandon all senses. You seized the moment—yanking him to you and capturing his lips, claiming him for yourself.

“…!” Suck, suck, bite, suck— You were relentless, and you didn't really know why. At first, even he was taken aback, but then his hand slipped behind your head, fingers threading through your hair as he deepened the kiss, his tongue tangling with yours in an intoxicating rhythm.

“Mmm...” You sneakily began to undo the buttons of his shirt one by one, your fingertips grazing his warm skin with each deliberate motion. Feeling it, Sylus broke the kiss just enough to smirk, his voice husky. “Getting bold, aren’t we?”

But before you could respond, his hands trailed down your sides, firmly pulling you closer, leaving no space between the two of you. His gaze burned with desire, as if daring you to keep going.

Then, without warning, his lips began their descent, grazing your jaw softly before trailing down to your neck and chest, leaving a trail of warmth and shivers across your skin. The feeling was intoxicating, even as his hair tickled you, making it hard to focus on anything but him.

“Ahh,” you couldn’t help but sigh, pressing him closer.

His lips left wet marks on your neck, and he whispered, “Now tell me... what made you so upset that you left home?”

When you didn't answer right away, one of his hand slid beneath your blouse, unhooking your bra and grazed your skin—

“You... keep coming and going as you please...” you stammered, feeling him begin to cup and squeeze your breasts, your breath growing erratic.

Sylus bit down on the skin at the nape of your neck, and you almost gasped.

“It's almost as if— Mmm—” The way he fondled your chest made the space between your legs grow warmer. “—you wouldn’t... miss m-me at all...”

How untrue. He stopped his ministrations, and the steel behind those eyes you loved so much met your gaze once again.

His wife was a mess of sweat already. He swiftly hooked your thighs around his waist and claimed your lips once more. With effortless movement, Sylus guided you to the long recliner in the room, laying you down there, still lost in the heat of the kiss. His hand intertwined with yours, pinning you to the soft surface.

“So...” he rasped, breathless against your lips, “You’re upset that I didn't miss you when I was away...”

His other hand worked to unzip your skirt. “But don’t you know? I... was worried about my wife getting into trouble when I wasn’t with her too... That’s why I was in a hurry to go home...”

Sylus pulled away, both of you panting for air, and he took a moment to savor the sight of your glazed eyes.

“But then I couldn't find her anywhere.” His voice was low and taunting, trailing his fingers on your belly. “I made it back as soon as I could, just like I told you and you are the one who misbehaved... Don’t you think I deserve something as a compensation?”

It took you three solid seconds to realize that the lower half of your body was now exposed. Your husband parted your legs and settled his face between them, pressing a kiss on your knee.

“So I believe at the very least... I deserve this.”

He dived straight for your clit then and you let out a loud gasp.

“Ngh! Aaah...!” You let out incoherent moans as he devoured your folds, lost in the cloudy haze of pleasure. It didn’t take long to unravel you at all.

“Mmnh—!” Your eyes almost rolled to the back of your head. Ticklish, hot, wet— all in all, it felt like a sin, but you just had to get this heavenly taste. “…a-ah!”

Sylus felt how you were this close to get your orgasm, so he moved faster, licking and sucking your clit, while adding a couple of fingers to bring you to the peak faster. You unconsciously moved your hips against his face— too far gone to be thinking anything else, grasping the leather of the sofa and pulling his hair—

“Ahh— S-Sylus!” And then you came hard, screaming his name, feeling how much it was— were you squirting?

You didn't know, didn't care either, as it was the sight of his ruby eyes that grounded you. You were spent, spread on the sofa (most probably ruined it, even), your chest heaving to catch your breath.

Sylus let out a low rumble as he wiped your juices off his lips with a thumb and tasted it, looking so sinfully sexy like a forbidden fruit while at it.

“You said... I wouldn't miss you.” He traced one finger on your face with such tenderness. “Now, I'm going to show you, and you'll be judge of it. Are you sure you don't want me to stop?”

If you said no, he would comply. That was the kind of person he was and you knew it. Sylus had always looked out for you since the very beginning, no matter how nonchalant he made himself to be.

“No.” You met his eyes, your voice steady. “Show me.”

It was the only affirmation he needed. He began unbuckling his belt and pants, keeping his unclouded gaze on yours, and soon he too was bare before you.

He was thick and long, and while you had taken him many times, it was never fully easy to ease the intrusion. His tip was already slick with precum, and he spread it along his length.

“You know the rule,” he murmured with a meaningful smile. “If it becomes too much, you scream, and I'll stop.”

He positioned himself at your entrance, sliding in slowly. The sharpness of the stretch seeped into you bit by bit, and you couldn't help but groan.

“—!” A sharp hiss escaped you as he fully sheathed himself inside, hitting that sensitive spot. Had your eyes deceived you, or was there a slightly noticeable bulge in your belly from where he was?

Sylus seemed to notice it too, but he folded your knees, spreading you further. His gaze intense and filled with something deep, something possessive. The room seemed to narrow, your entire focus consumed by him as he settled in close.

“Eyes on me, kitten.” He gave you a smile, and with that, he started pounding you—

“Ah, hah, ahhh!” You couldn't stop moaning beneath him as he thrusted into you. The feeling of him so deep inside, coupled with the way you tightened around him, sent waves of blind pleasure through you.

Sylus’ eyes darkened, his jaw clenched as he watched you squirm under him. Your skin glistened with the heat of the moment, and the sound of your breaths, frantic and needy, filled the room. His control slipped, just a little, as he pushed deeper, his movements faster, chasing the release that quickly building within both of you.

A pretty mess, his wife is. Your face contorted in a mix of pleasure and pain as he bred you, and he swore, of everything he had gone through, this look in your face was always worth it.

“Sylus—!” you almost wailed, nails digging into his back, and he growled, knowing full-well that he was finally losing it.

Just like that he shot his cum straight to your womb, his own body shuddering, thoroughly rutting into you. You cried, tears falling from your lashes as you too reached your climax.

Full, too full... Yet you knew that you wouldn't have it another way.

. . .

It felt warm and comforting.

Your eyes fluttered open hours later, and the first thing you noticed was Sylus' sleeping face, and that you were now in the bedroom.

He looked so vulnerable like this. You couldn’t help but be drawn to how serene and unguarded he was, a side of him that only you got to see. Even in his sleep, his arms were wrapped around your waist, as if to protect you from anything that might disturb your rest.

Your lover... and then husband. He was rough around the edges, sometimes didn't make any sense at all, and often reckless enough to burn himself playing with fire.

“You sly crow…” You gazed at his profile, still in awe that this elusive man was your husband.

Sylus was easy to read sometimes, and you couldn’t help but smile at your earlier doubts about him. How could you not see just how deeply he was attached to you?

Just like the inseparable pair of dragon and sorceress in your dream, you knew you’d stay by his side until the very end.

Out of a playful surge of affection, you tapped his nose, and he grunted softly but didn’t wake, instead nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck, seeking more of your warmth. It was cute, how he was so worn out that he sought comfort in your embrace.

You pressed a soft kiss to his forehead then, vowing with everything you had that you’d never let him go, and that with him by your side, you would definitely made this life you shared a happy one.

Several weeks later...

“Thank you, miss!”

The boy bowed his head with a wide grin as soon as you handed him the red pocket money for Linkon New Year. You waved at him, smiling warmly as he skipped away, clutching the envelope in his hands.

The festive occasion inspired you to pay a visit to a nearby orphanage, driven by a desire to share more of the joy and blessings. You brought small gifts and red envelopes, hoping to bring a little light to the children’s lives and make the celebration even more meaningful for them.

Of course, Sylus tagged along too. He was the benefactor, after all.

“Sir, thank you for your generosity.” The headmistress approached Sylus, who looked effortlessly sharp in his red suit, and gave his hand a shake. “The children are really happy with the cupcakes and pocket money.”

He merely chuckled and pointed at you with his chin. “Thank her, my wife is the one with the idea.”

You joined the conversation shortly after, and it didn’t take long for the topic to shift from the orphanage to your personal lives.

“So, do the two of you have plans to start a family soon?” the headmistress asked, her tone warm and curious. “Both of you are still young, and you're so good with kids. Having children of your own might bring even more joy into your lives.”

You mustered a polite laugh, the words to gracefully deflect her comment forming on your lips, when—

“Soon,” Sylus interjected smoothly, his arm slipping around your waist, pulling you closer. “Very soon, in fact.”

You blinked at him, startled by his bold declaration, while the headmistress’s face lit up with approval. You nudged him discreetly.

As soon as the headmistress went on her way, you turned to him with a frown. “Why would you tell her that?”

Your gaze met his, clear and utterly clueless. Sylus snorted, so tempted to pinch your cheeks, but settling instead for a tender pat on your head.

“You'll see soon enough, sweetie,” he replied, his tone laced with playful mystery.

Epilogue

It was the dead of night when a sudden wave of nausea overtook you. Stumbling out of bed, you rushed to the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before retching up the contents of your stomach.

Your body trembled as you stood, dizziness threatening to topple you. Leaning heavily on the sink for support, you rinsed your mouth, trying to steady yourself. The effort left you shivering, your legs almost buckling beneath you.

Before you could even comprehend the blur in your vision, a pair of strong arms got a hold over you. “S-Sylus...?” you murmured faintly.

Without hesitation, he lifted you into his arms securely as he carried you back to the bedroom, his expression shadowed with concern.

As he settled you onto the bed, he held you close, pressing your face against his bare chest that peeked from his unbuttoned shirt. “Take deep breaths,” he urged softly, his voice grounding you.

You inhaled shakily, letting the familiar warmth of his scent calm your frayed nerves. Slowly, your breathing steadied, though the nausea still lingered in the back of your throat.

“Is it the first time?” he questioned, smoothing your hair. “Have you thrown up before?”

You shook your head. “No... I get dizzy spells but that's it... This is the first time.”

Nausea, dizziness, vomiting. It wasn't hard to piece together what it was. Amidst your dazed thoughts, the realization hit you, and you turned to your husband almost in wonder. “Sylus... a-am I...?”

Sylus broke into a smirk, ruffling your hair. “Told you. I know your period is late.”

Your heart skipped a beat—and it was the only thing you could hear in that moment. The thought that a baby would enter your lives left you briefly speechless.

“Yeah, at the rate we're going, it’s like we’re bunnies,” you quipped sullenly, trying to regain a sense of control as you leaned into his broad chest.

You really thought he would poke fun at you for your highly possible pregnancy, but instead you were taken aback when he pressed a fond, lingering kiss to the side of your head. His arms tightened around you, his soft chuckle reverberating through his chest.

And when you found his gaze again, his jewel-like eyes softened into such an extent that made your heart soar.

“Well, aren’t I the luckiest man— having this fair lady be the mother of my child?”

[emmyrosee]

I have no idea if this’ll get notes but hey. It’s for me anyways lmao

———

“Aw, you should’ve seen me babe.”

He moves excitedly around the living room, recounting his plays from the day as accurately as he can. His eyes twinkle with excitement and his arms move sporadically as he paces around the living room, telling you about his crazy passes and scoring opportunities.

“And damn, I made the single most epic play, and I knew if you were there, you would’ve cheered louder than anyone in that crowd.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”

You flash him an apologetic look from your cocoon of blankets, clung tight around you for comfort as you guiltily listen to him yap about his day. This makes his face fall. Had you wanted to be there in support of your boyfriend? Of course. There’s no where you would’ve rather been, let alone curled up in your blankets in distress on the couch.

But he knew you’d been… struggling, lately. There was something inside of you, brewing pain and aggression, howling for your attention but growling when you tried to deal with it, like a storm surrounding a sailing ship and leading it to doom. You sought comfort in every outlet you knew (except for the incredibly self destructive ones- he kept a special eye out for those after years of learning about you), and today, it just seemed too much to go out and watch his game.

He understood, more than anyone, more than anything. But you’ve been beating yourself up about it since before he left.

He clicks his tongue and sits down, “you know, everyone was asking for you.” He wraps an arm around you and tugs you into his side, where you curl up against him. “Wondering where you were, what you were up to. I told them you sent your best.”

“Thank you,” you whisper. He turns his head to press a kiss to the crown of your head.

“But you know what my favorite part of the day was?”

You flick your eyes up to him in interest. He smiles, “coming home to my baby.” You offer him a snort, however he hears the way your voice hitches and nose starts to sniffle. He shrugs, “it’s true. All day, I couldn’t think about anything but you. Playing for you, checking my phone to see if you texted me, wondering if you’d’ve cussed out the ref for his calls against me-“

“One time,” you chuckle. “One time I go after a ref, and I’m the asshole.”

“That’s because you’re my feisty baby,” he says, and before you can say anything, he jams his arms under you and hauls you up and into his lap, relishing in the squeal you let out. He noses at your neck, “and you don’t let anyone mess with me. It’s so hot.”

“Perv,” you grumble.

“What did you say?” He asks, jamming one of his hands into your blanket coffin and pinching his fingers into your sides and against your stomach, “huh? You wanna run that by me again?”

“No!” You giggle, kicking your legs and trying to fight out of the blankets trap. “S-Stop it!”

“You think im gonna let you talk trash after I pour my heart out to you? Huh? Stinky brat?” His fingers stop tickling to keep your head cradled to his chest, thumb stroking your temple.

“‘M not stinky,” you mumble.

“Yeah, you are,” he says softly. “But I wouldn’t trade your smelliness for anything.”

“Promise?”

“Absolutely.”

[zkaus]

At the back of my copy of The Vampire Armand, there's an old interview with Anne Rice talking about creating that novel. I've never forgotten her answer to one of the questions... It haunted me for years.

It gives incredible insight into how and why she wrote such beautiful, brutal and broken characters, and what she endured in the creation process.

BUT before you read this, I'm going to STRONGLY warn you, it goes to very very DARK places

Q: What are your work habits for a novel?

A: Once I truly begin to write, I work obsessively, in twelve-hour days, punctuated by days of long sleep and vivid dreaming. Starting time and ending time are no longer important. I might begin at 9 A.M., or after noon or at eight in the evening. I go from there. I turn on the computer and write, write, write.

My room is a mess. Notes are scribbled on the walls so that I can look up at them at the appropriate moments and insert the date, the name, whatever, when I need it. Books are stacked so high that people have to search for me when they come into the room. Opened books with marked-up pages are stacked on top of one another.

I become suicidal. I go through a horrid despair some time or other before the final page, during which everything seems meaningless—from the dawn of history to the very hour in which I am writing.

I’m intolerable to live with. But I spread myself thin over a number of loved ones and staff members so that no one person has to put up with how intense, hysterical, and miserable I am.

When I get elated and talk fast and furiously about wonderful aspects of history or the characters, or good developments in the story, people run away from me. I don’t blame them.

While the novel is being written, I try to avoid dressing for outdoors. No one can make you go out if you don’t have shoes on. Not even in the south. I wear long velvet robes and soft velvet slippers. I refuse to go out. All food is brought in. I eat hamburgers because they are easy to hold with one hand while reading and holding the book with the other hand.

In the middle of the night I read, sometimes on the carpeted floor of the bathroom, just because it’s warm. I am wretched. I don’t care anymore about being abnormal. Writing is everything. Everything. It seems impossible to write the book. It seems impossible to lift a hairbrush to brush my hair. But I do it. I put on mascara every day that I write.

This period of intense work lasts about six weeks. It’s best that way. My imagination is overheated, and my memory clogged with data of varying importance. If I go over six weeks, I begin to forget things; I feel the loss of intensity and information and I become all the more self-destructive and obsessed.

The end of the book is a big event for me. A big event. I start screaming. I put the hour and the date at the end of the last page. I expect everybody to understand, at least a little. It’s a triumph! The darkness of destiny has been driven back for a brief while. I celebrate. I scream, eat chocolate, and sleep.

Right near the end of writing The Vampire Armand, I realized I had to return to Italy, especially to Florence, and at once I began to make preparations for the trip. As soon as the novel was finished and off to the publisher’s, as soon as it could be accomplished, I flew to Italy. That gave me hope, a way out of a life threatening darkness that often follows the climax of a book. But I still ate chocolate and screamed.

While writing, I don’t want to rest. I don’t want to sleep. Why sleep? It seems stupid, except when weariness overcomes me like a giant cloud of poisonous vapor. Then I sleep fifteen to twenty hours. I tell people to go in and out of the bedroom and ignore me lying there, as if I were dead. I won’t talk on the phone. I won’t open my eyes if I don’t have to. I dream terrible, upsetting dreams.

I want to kill myself. But I can’t. I can’t do it to other people, and I have work that must be done, novels that must be written. So I don’t kill myself. Besides, I don’t think it’s good to kill oneself. It’s a horrible idea. It has a horrible effect even on acquaintances.

I think a lot about people I loved who are dead. I think of how dead they are, year after year, ever more dead.

[himbodruid]

Taking a break from Sylus fics to give yall some Zayne!

Zayne x Reader

Intended for 18+ readers. MINORS DNI.

Desperate -:- clothed sex -:- angst -:- possessive Zayne (kinda) -:- Zayne loses control (but not of his evol)

Fic Master List

Desperation in Yearning

There was a certain excitement that came with danger, an addictive rush of adrenaline. Maybe that was why you kept throwing yourself into missions that could end in your death. Or maybe it was some sort of misguided sense of survivor’s guilt, seeing as you’d been quite literally throwing yourself into your work for the last 14 years. Since the explosion. Since your world came raining down in a rain of ash and embers.

Your bags were almost packed, even though the shuttle wasn’t leaving for another several days. Captain Jenna had given you and the rest of the deployment team a few days off in order to prepare for the arduous journey, but you felt unsettled. You needed to move. To do something other than hurry up and wait.

Cooking was a nice way to distract yourself, even if you weren’t very good at it. What you made was edible at least, if not very creative.

A hurried knock on your door returned you to reality on that first night, and you looked up with brows drawn down. You weren’t expecting any visitors, and the stirfry you’d been disassociating over was almost done (note: probably burnt actually). Shaking your head, you removed the pan from the heat and killed the stove so you wouldn’t start a fire in your distraction.

Zayne was there on the other side of the door. He was out of breath, as if he’d run straight from Akso Hospital. He also looked…angry, and you ushered him inside.

“Doctor Zayne? What’s going on? Is something wrong?”

He took a moment to compose himself. It was almost disturbing to see the usually unflappable Doctor Zayne in such a state, and you feared the worst.

“When were you going to tell me,” he demanded. His usually even voice held the slightest of tremors, and you didn’t understand why. His eyes held an intensity to them that made you look anywhere but his face.

“What do you mean? Tell you about what?” He sat heavily in a stool at your breakfast bar and you put a hand on his shoulder. He stiffened under your touch.

“When were you going to tell me that you’re leaving?”

“Oh. That.” You still didn’t understand why it was such a big deal to him. It was just like any other away mission before. You always texted him when you were heading out and he wished you a safe return. And then when you returned, the two of you would go out to dinner together. You always celebrated your wins with him, mourned the losses with him.

“Were you just going to send me some off-hand text again? Letting me know you’d be leaving and then leave me in radio silence for weeks on end? Leave me wondering if everything was going okay, if you were safe- alive, even?”

He stood and punctuated his words by crowding you against the counter. His hazel eyes held a predatory glint to them, a look you were so unused to in his regularly smooth expression. He wasn’t one to wear his emotions easily, and you always struggled to read him. Even now, when he had you pinned at your counter, you couldn’t figure out what he was so upset over.

“Doctor Zayne, it’s fine. I do stuff like this all the time, it’s part of my job.”

His hand slammed down on the counter, making you jump. “Purposefully throwing yourself in harm’s way is not part of the job, not when you constantly do it to the point of self-destruction!”

You stared up at him, eyes wide in wonder. His face was flush and you thought you could read despair in his expression. This was a man that was always calm, cool, and collected, and yet here he was losing his temper at you.

“I…didn’t think of it that way. I’m sorry,” you say to him, trying to appease him so he would relax. But your words only seemed to fuel his frustration even more.

“That’s the problem. You never seem to think,” he whispered, the tremble in his voice more prominent now.

“Zayne,” you say, dropping his title in favour of your friendship. “What’s all this about? I don’t understand why you’re so upset about this. Please, help me understand.”

He blew out a shaky breath and let his head drop to your shoulder. You froze. It’s not that you didn’t see Zayne as a man, it’s that you always thought he never saw you as a woman. You thought maybe he only ever saw you as a trouble-making younger sibling, seeing as you had been friends with him since childhood. But here he was, face buried in your neck while he struggled to maintain his composure.

“I’m tired of watching the woman I love run head-long into danger,” he said quietly. “And not knowing if you’re safe is a special kind of torture I wouldn’t wish on anyone.”

You felt your heart shudder at his admission. Oh how you’ve been so stupid, so blind to his true feelings. The only credit you could give yourself is that Zayne wasn’t the best at portraying what he felt, and you were even worse at picking up social cues.

Your mind dug through all of your memories with him. How he would always seem to hug you a little longer than necessary when you came home. How he would always use one excuse or another to call and check up on you. How his demeanor went from cold and distant to warm and welcoming as time passed. The clues were there all along, you just never picked up on them. Or you assumed they were just a natural progression of friendship.

“Zayne, I-“ you didn’t know what to say. How to finish that sentence. You felt like you were in shock and you didn’t know what to do. He lifted his head from your shoulder slowly, bringing those damnably beautiful eyes up to bore into your very soul.

“I hate not knowing if you’ll survive the next mission that takes you away from me. I hate not being able to clear my schedule fast enough to go alongside you as a medic. And I hate the very idea of losing you to your own stubbornness.”

With that, he leaned forward and his lips captured yours. It was hesitant at first, testing, but the last remnants of his control snapped when you returned the kiss in equal measure. He coaxed your mouth open with ease and plunged his tongue in to tangle with yours. He poured all his desperation into you in that single point of contact, his hand coming up to grasp the back of your head to hold you in place.

When he finally broke away to let you have some air, his face was flush with all that was left unsaid. His eyes pleaded with you, his breath mingled with yours. He searched you for the same kind of yearning he bore to you. And when your gaze flicked to his mouth and back to his eyes with a soft sigh, he knew he had his answer.

He hauled you up against him, holding you as close as he possibly could as if that act alone could prevent you from leaving him. As if that alone would keep you by his side and out of danger forever. But it was that threat of danger that made desperation all the more prominent, all the more sweeter.

Zayne carried you to your bedroom without hesitation and without trouble, as though you weighed nothing more than the pen he carried in his lab coat every day at work. Your legs wrapped around his waist, arms around his broad shoulders on instinct, hiking up the skirt you wore and exposing yourself to his chill touch. He plopped down on the corner of your mattress with you straddling his lap, not even taking a moment to break the kiss. You rocked your hips against him, lost to his every touch that drove you deeper into a needy mess.

You hated admitting it, but you knew that this is what you’ve been craving for so long. The realization that you were waiting for him to make a move so that your passion wouldn’t scare the normally reserved doctor away. Zayne was letting go of all those reservations and it was the single most attractive thing you ever experienced.

He devoured you. Touched you. The noises he made shot right to your core and your own noises rose to respond to him. The chill of his hands sent shivers dancing through you. You could feel the length of him hardening beneath you, responding resolutely to the grind of your core against him. One of his large hands found your thigh, smoothing along your skin until he was at your hip and his thumb ran along the edge of your underwear. You were subconsciously glad you wore lace, but it didn’t really matter when you were lost to him. And, gods, the cold metal of his watch pressing into your hot skin did something unspeakable to you.

The pad of his thumb pressed against your clit, making lazy circles as his tongue continued to battle with yours. You couldn’t stop the moan you released into his mouth, but the noise only seemed to goad him further. He absorbed the sounds you made and became drunk off you.

And then you were suddenly pinned underneath him. One hand held your wrists above your head while those elegant fingers of the other dipped into your slicked folds. When he found you wet and wanting, he groaned into your neck. He curled those fingers inside you, eliciting a gasp as he put pressure in the perfect place. You bucked your hips against his hand, chasing the release he was so graciously gifting you.

And when you fell over the edge, you breathed his name into the air like a chanting prayer. Your body arched into him involuntarily and your hands grasped at whatever they could while still restrained.

But Zayne wasn’t done with you. He was far from it.

He removed his fingers from you, bringing them up to inspect the result of your climax still slicked between them. And then he looked you in the eye, muttering ‘beautiful’ before he stuck those fingers in his mouth and savored the taste of you with a moan. And something about that damn watch on his wrist while he did it.

And, fuck, he still wasn’t done torturing you.

The buckle of his belt was loosened and his cock freed from his pants with hardly an effort. He did it all with one hand while still pinning your wrists together above your head. You wanted so badly to touch him, but all you could do was wrap your legs around his hips as his narrow hips nestled between your thighs. And then your underwear was brushed aside and his cock slicked against your folds, a gentle, testing nudge at first. Then pushing further at your moaned pleas.

You all but begged him to fuck you roughly like you wanted, and still he took the time to make sure your petite body could accommodate his size without hurting you. And, oh how he filled you. It was more than you could have ever dreamed, and still he remained infuriatingly still inside you while his mouth worked at yours with promises of what was to come.

You flexed your walls on him in silent revenge, and he hissed a moan into your mouth with an involuntary forward jerk of his hips. And that’s all it took for the dam to break on his control.

Before you knew it, he was slamming into you with reckless abandon, so hard you swore you could feel yourself being moved across your bed. His hand finally released yours and all you could do was cling to him while he basically folded you in half, trying to somehow get even deeper than he already was. His grunts, moans, whimpers were diffused by him burying his face in your neck. You chanted his name into the open air, punctuating it by kisses and bites against whatever skin of his neck and chest you could access.

He hooked his arms underneath your knees, giving himself the most access he could while he pistoned in and out of you like a madman. Every thrust slammed against that sweet spot in your core and you came undone around him more times than you could count before he’d even gotten close to his end. Each climax that swept through you was more intense than the last until you were all but screaming his name.

“So damn…good,” he grunted, his pace increasing as his own orgasm finally neared. His sounds were no longer muffled by your neck or mouth. He let his own pleasured cries rise with yours as he continued making a mess of the both of you. His words became incoherent as he lost himself to the rapture.

Zayne slammed so, so impossibly deep into you with a sound that came out like a mix between a shout and a moan. His climax steamrolled through him so thoroughly that all he could do was jerk his hips while trembling in your hold. Your walls quivered around his cock once more, milking him as he flooded you with his cum.

Zayne collapsed atop you, a sweating panting mess. You realized that the both of you were still fully clothed, so caught up in your frenzied coupling that you didn’t even take time to undress. You couldn’t even find it in yourself to be embarrassed at the madness that’d taken over the both of you. Especially when he was still shifting his hips in micro-thrusts that made you realize that he was still hard inside you.

Everything about this encounter sent a thrill through you, and it was something you would never forget. Though, your mind went blank when he suddenly rode you through overstimulation only to jolt you both through an unexpected mutual orgasm. His cock twitched and pulsed inside you as another deluge of cum filled you. And your body was all too eager to take him in. If it weren’t the sensations of his cock inside you, you were almost certain the sounds he was making would have sent you over the edge again. Or even the contrast of his cold hands on your heated skin.

It felt all too soon, but he pulled from you with a long moan. He kissed you and put his forehead against yours in an action so tender that it nearly brought tears to your eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured to you with an embarrassed smile. “That’s not exactly how I imagined that would go.”

“Yeah?” You chuckled. “How was it supposed to go?”

“Slow and sweet. Definitely not horny and wild while clothed,” he grumbled. You couldn't help but look down and grinned when you saw the mess the both of you had made against his nice black trousers.

“Why not show me how it was meant to be?” You ventured. That soft smile of his played across his face as he leaned in and kissed you.

He proceeded to demonstrate what his first idea had been. Soft, slow, and sweet, bringing the both of you to climax over and over. He worshipped your body in a multitude of ways and you were grateful, then, for the days off that Jenna had given you. Because, aside from going home for a change of clothes and picking up some take out, Zayne hardly left your bed until it was time for you to go.

He walked you to the shuttle while trying to stoically hide the devastation in his eyes. Other hunters were already boarding the vehicle, but you turned to face him while your luggage was loaded, drawing him into a tight hug.

“I promise to be more mindful of missions in the future,” you say to him. You lean up in his embrace and kiss him in full view of anyone that cared to look. You knew there would be relentless teasing from Tara, but you didn’t care.

“After all, I have someone at home to look forward to now.”

[neptunes-sol-angel]

*pchit pchit* Describing your spirituality as a perfume and the essence behind it. Feel free to look up metaphysical meaning behind each note to see additional messages that may resonate with you.

Paid Readings | Botanica | Tip Jar

Pile One

Top Notes:

Tangerine, Magnolia, Peppermint, Fennel

Middle Notes:

Lemon, Rosemary, Arborvitae

Bottom Notes:

Oregano, Bergamot, Sweet Marjoram

Your perfume embodies a warm summer day at a villa in Italy. You’ll feel right at home when your olfactory nerves take in every single accord. Your fragrance is soft, smooth, bubbly, with a hint of what a clean roaring 20s hotel suite would be like with incense smoking in the background. Boujee and boozy. Your spirituality is based on finding awakenings in nothingness. Losses could be something that you experience a lot. Home could be something that is not really guaranteed for you. It could be by choice meaning you find purpose in nomadic living or you’re constantly moving around against your will because of a destructive crisis. This could have made it hard for you to attach or give sentimental value to holidays, milestones, and relationships that are meant to be positive and celebratory. You don’t have to dress in garments or be deep into religion or philosophical teachings and rituals. You’re spiritual in a way that resonates with taoism. No matter how many endings that occur in your life, you are not meant to stay there. Even if you lose your will to keep going, you embody the concurrent flow of circulation. Finding life after death and being open to miracles when you’re at rock bottom. I feel like people could see you as “walking karma”. I feel like there are a lot of people in the pile who do not believe in the concept of karma because you believe in handling retribution yourself. You could be into defense and malefic magic, but you could also have a lot of strength and endurance to push for things to happen in your life. When it comes to pointing out someone’s spiritual gifts, it’s usually the magic that happens naturally. So while people may think you are “walking karma” or have this fear that you’re getting revenge on them, I’m getting that your gifts are more like a blockbuster and a road opener spell.

Pile Two

Top Notes:

Pink Pepper, Siberian Fir, Lotus Flower

Middle Notes:

Black Spruce, Morello Cherry, Ginger

Bottom Notes:

Honeysuckle, Frankincense, Neroli, Nubian Musk

Your perfume is seductive, mysterious, feminine, and mature yet playful. The scent is dark, floral, and energizing with the way it will last all over your body the entire day, even if you shower. Your spirituality thrives in beauty, love, magnetism, and divine enlightenment. You could resonate with the siren archetype with how entrancing you are with your desires and self worship. I keep seeing the majestic creature obsessively grooming theirself in a mirror, so people could think that you’re vain or self-absorbed. But what they don’t understand is that spiritually, you embody what it means to treat your body like a temple, and how your inner world can shift your outer world. You’re extremely powerful with glamour magic, affirmations, and creating subliminals. Like a siren’s voice, you’re just commanding with the words that you speak which can do wonders for you but can also make you have to be very careful with the things that you say and your attention on certain things that may look or seem like a good idea but they really aren’t. I get that in order to master your spirituality, you must place boundaries with what you’re drawn to utilizing moderation and also being specific with what you want. In this collective, I feel that there are a lot of young souls who are eager to learn and experience. Many of you are actually on track to reaching this level of mastery. This pile reminds me of the movie “The Craft” and the phrase “curiosity that killed the cat”. You guys could indulge in divination, spells, or non-occultic shortcuts in life that may have led to getting you in unnecessary trouble or problems that ended up combusting. The more that you experience what you think you may want, the closer that you reach to finding peace with something that may look the complete opposite.

Pile Three

Top Notes:

Citronella, Lavender, Vasaka, Spearmint

Middle Notes:

Helichrysum, Frankincense, Tonka Bean, Celery Seed

Bottom Notes:

Sweet Pea, Matcha, Grapefruit, Petitgrain

Your perfume has a different take on what gourmand can be. It’s probably the most natural sugary scent that you’ll ever find. When the scent hits your nose, it’ll feel like you’re waking up one sunny morning to a matcha lemonade and a lavender grapefruit puff pastry. Discovering your spirituality could or still be very confusing for you. The collective’s energy in this pile feels lost, opaque, and saturn-like because I think that the clarity that’s being sought after most likely will not be received until your 40s or 50s. I’m seeing a lot of switching religions, jumping to the next path to consciousness by dabbling into concepts that you may not fully understand, or being led astray by new-age theories. I’m also seeing a lot of spiraling when things do not work out that may cause you to blame these practices when transitioning onto the next thing. I’m getting that people in the pile could have faced a lot of judgement in these spaces at an early age. Never really feeling like you belong or that you’re welcomed by others which could play a part in why spirituality could be so confusing for you and it not being something that you can trust. You may have even decided to become atheist or agnostic and that is okay. The delivery may not have been right in feeling let down in your spirituality, but the truth is, it is the human thing to crash out when you show your devotion, you do the work consistently, and had the bravery to be positive about it and then next thing you know, things are tumbling down and you don’t know what the hell is going on or if you did something wrong. For some of you, the problem lies in trying to find acceptance from others in these spaces. You’re making material things such as people or social constructs and standards for your god. You find a god in something that’s way bigger and personal than what the next person’s input is. Whether it’s digging deep into your roots to resume your ancestor’s indigenous practices, carving out your own space in christianity to fortify your faith in peace, or even finding the god within yourself, your spirituality will become a lot more clearer to you when you make it less about others and have more acceptance and validation for yourself.

Pile Four

Top Notes:

Ylang Ylang, Rain accord, Ginseng

Middle Notes:

Jasmine, Coriander, Vetiver

Bottom Notes:

Tonga Vanilla Bean, Passionflower, Spikenard

Your perfume could be well-rounded, where you can vividly smell every note all throughout the sillage of when you first sprayed it. The scent has a bold blend of aromas that are both masculine and feminine. It’s earthy, sweet, strong, the perfect scent to acquire if you want to make an opulent first impression. Like this perfume, your spirituality represents the power and respect behind energy exchange. You see life in all things, and believe that everything is energy much like how science demonstrates that everything is derived out of atoms and chemicals. You resonate with herbology, following the moon and stars, and letting the universe speak to you through plants, animals, and the weather. You could be into tea leaf readings, palmistry, or water and cloud scrying. You believe in superstitions that were taught to you by your elders or the people of your culture(s). You could be against anything along with seeing things as something to be taken or owned. Money comes to you easily and it doesn’t have to be in surplus. I just see you being taken care of because of the spirits that you communicate with and look after, even if you’re not directly into mediumship, it seems like you unconsciously connect with your ancestors and other forms of spirits, especially if you have this habit of talking to yourself. I don’t want to scare you, but whoever you are talking to, they are definitely listening to you and responding back to you in many different ways lol. Your spirituality is also brought to life when musical instruments are being played, when you’re cooking for others, and when you’re helping others who have less mobility.

[charliemwrites]

Part 6 of Charmed Slasher Simon!

Simon really ought to teach you not to look at him like that. Those big watery eyes and pouty lips make his teeth feel too sharp for his own mouth. He wants to sink them into you, find out if you taste as sweet as you look. He knows you would, knows it like he knows the slick heat of fresh viscera.

“What.” he demands, voice hard to keep the rasp of dark desire from it.

“I have a little favor to ask.”

He arches an eyebrow, does not believe you. Not when you’re looking at him so beseechingly. He’ll have to get you to make that face again, maybe when he’s got you on your knees, asking to suck his cock.

“Go on.”

You seem ridiculously, foolishly charmed by this stoic, unimpressed front he puts on for you. A little beam of sunshine refracting off of a black mirror. Wonders sometimes what cruel maker built you so unintentionally self-destructive.

“There’s this work trip coming up…”

He has to cross his arms to keep himself from snatching you up and locking you in the bedroom. Mistaking the gesture, you hurry to continue.

“And I have to go, but! We’re allowed to bring plus ones.”

Satisfaction curls warm in his gut, a purring predator cat. He wants to hear you ask, though.

“I’m not hearing the favor.”

“Riley….” you complain, face adorably embarrassed.

“I’m waiting, luv.”

You damn near stomp your little foot at him. “Will you please come as my plus one?”

He arches his eyebrows. “That’s a big ask.”

You could ask for the stars and moon and he’d make them bleed for you. Paint the sky crimson and make a necklace of the heavens to collar you in.

“I know and I understand if you don’t want to - but… but that coworker you met, Brandon? He’s going too, and he’s been looking at me weird all week. Please, Ri? I-I don’t want to go by myself and you make me feel safe.”

Oh it was a sure thing that he’d be going with you, but now there’s no question. He’s so glad for the video cameras; he going to milk himself dry tonight listening to you say please like that. Admitting that he makes you feel safe. His poor, stupid, fragile thing. It’s a good thing he found you.

“Alright, alright,” he soothes. “No waterworks now. I’ll go with you.”

Like a switch, you light up and throw yourself into his chest.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” you trill. “I’ll make it up to you somehow, I promise.”

He snorts. You’ve done him the favor by giving him an excuse to follow you - but he’s not about to correct you.

“You let me worry about that. Just send me the details and I’ll be there.”

—

Your job has rented out a ski lodge for this little trip. Not only is it secluded, the booking is for the middle of the week. There will be few, if any, people over than instructors and your coworkers.

He couldn’t plan it better.

The day is spent pretending to care about your coworkers’ names and babysitting you along the slopes. You nearly crack your head open twice, each time he scoops you up, frowning down at your giggly face.

You also nail him in the head with a snowball too. That. That’s he’s going to get revenge for.

When night falls, you squeeze his hand at the door to your room. He leans his palm against the door over your head, relishes in the way you fluster as you tilt your head to look at him.

“Thank you for coming, Riley,” you murmurs. “You’ve made this really fun.”

He lets himself smile at you, just a bit. Knows it’s lopsided and probably a little too sharp, should raise alarm bells in your pretty little head, but you only smile back at him.

“Mm, you’ll have to make it up to me. Doin’ you this big favor ‘n all.”

You laugh. “Yeah? Let me know when you want your pound of flesh.”

Oh he’ll be taking more than a pound.

“Better be ready when I come to collect.”

“Ooh, so scary!” you tease, sticking your tongue out.

“You’ve no idea.”

—

A storm hits that night. A wicked, frigid thing that brews up and boils over in a matter of hours. Whiteout conditions. The power goes out a quarter past 11.

Well, you’ve had your fun. Now it’s time for Simon to have his.

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[sushiyuzu]

Hiii, I was wondering if you could make smth with a fem-reader who gets super angry, like destructive when mad bcus she lacks self-control rlly bad (for me I'm mentally ill lol) so when she gets mad her s/o usually walks in to her room destroyed with a crying reader in the corner, especially when she hasn't been taking her meds it ends up like that, and can you do this with Megumi, Yuta, and Sukuna

a safe comfort 🤍

a/n: thank you so much for trusting me with this request! it was my second time receiving and writing a fanfic request, and i truly appreciate the support! please remember to take care of yourself, especially if you're struggling with mental health—your well-being is so important! <3

warning: this story includes themes of mental illness, destructive behavior, and emotional distress. please proceed with caution.

megumi fushiguro

it starts as a small thing, the kind of annoyance you’d usually brush off. but today, something feels different. it’s as if the tension has been building for days, winding tighter and tighter until finally—something snaps. and when it does, you can’t stop yourself.

your hands are trembling as you shove the lamp off your nightstand, the crash of broken glass loud in your ears. the sound echoes in your head, but it doesn’t register—not really. you’re already grabbing at the books on your desk, hurling them across the room as frustration wells up inside you, fierce and unrelenting.

the anger takes over everything. it’s all-consuming, suffocating, like a weight on your chest you can’t escape. and when it’s over, when the room lies in ruins around you, you’re left standing in the middle of it all, gasping for air, your hands still shaking as the reality of what you’ve done hits you.

you drop to the floor, curling into yourself, the tears coming fast and hard. shame burns deep in your chest, the guilt crushing you as you try to breathe through it. you don’t want to be like this—you don’t want to be the person who destroys everything.

you don’t even notice when megumi walks in. he’s always quiet like that, slipping into your space without making a sound. but you know he’s there when you hear his voice—soft, steady, calm.

“hey,” he murmurs, and the sound is so gentle it makes your chest ache. “it’s okay.”

you can’t bring yourself to look up at him, too ashamed of what he must be seeing. you’re a mess. the room’s a mess. but megumi doesn’t seem to care. he steps carefully around the broken glass, the scattered papers, and kneels down beside you without a word.

for a long moment, he doesn’t say anything, just sits there with you, his presence grounding you in a way that nothing else can. his hand hovers near your shoulder, not quite touching, as if he’s waiting for permission to get closer.

“i’m not going anywhere,” he says softly, his voice filled with quiet reassurance.

you finally lift your head, and the moment your eyes meet his, the tears come faster, harder. you choke on a sob, unable to hold it back any longer, but megumi’s arms are around you before you can even process it. he pulls you into his chest, holding you close, and for a second, you forget about the wreckage around you.

his grip is firm but gentle, his hand running through your hair in soothing strokes. he’s not one to overwhelm you with words—megumi knows that sometimes silence speaks louder. instead, he just holds you, letting you cry against him, offering a quiet strength you can lean on without fear.

“we’ll figure it out,” he says after a while, his voice steady, like a promise. “whatever it is, we’ll deal with it together.”

you know he means it. with megumi, there are no empty promises. just the quiet certainty that no matter how bad things get, he’s going to stay by your side. and somehow, that makes it a little easier to breathe.

the minutes stretch into what feels like hours as you sink into his embrace. with every ragged breath, you can feel the tension start to dissolve. megumi’s warmth envelops you, a safe haven amidst the storm of emotions raging inside.

as the tears slow, you begin to notice the little things—how his heartbeat thrums steadily against your ear, the scent of his cologne lingering in the air, the gentle way he holds you as if you’re something precious. it’s a comfort that seeps into your bones, reminding you that you’re not alone in this chaos.

“i know it feels overwhelming right now,” he says, his voice low and soothing, “but it doesn’t define you. you’re stronger than this moment.”

you nod against him, trying to internalize his words, but the guilt still lingers like a shadow. “i don’t want to be like this,” you whisper, your voice muffled against his shirt.

“i know,” he replies, pulling back slightly to look you in the eye. there’s a determination in his gaze, a fierce protectiveness that makes your heart swell. “and you’re not. we’ll find a way to help you. just take it one step at a time.”

he wipes away the tears on your cheeks with the pads of his thumbs, his touch featherlight yet grounding. in his gaze, you see understanding—an unspoken agreement that you don’t have to carry this burden alone. with megumi beside you, it’s easier to believe that healing is possible, that you can face whatever darkness lies ahead.

as you sit there, the room still in disarray, you realize it’s okay to be broken. it’s okay to ask for help. because with megumi by your side, you know you have a safe space to fall apart and rebuild. you’re not just a collection of shattered pieces; you’re a person, and that person deserves love and understanding—even in the midst of chaos.

“thank you,” you murmur, feeling a glimmer of hope rise within you.

“always,” he replies, a soft smile breaking through the worry etched on his face. “now, let’s clean this up together, okay?”

you nod, and for the first time in a long while, you feel like maybe, just maybe, you can find your way back to yourself.

yuta okkotsu

the anger hits you like a tidal wave, sudden and overwhelming, and before you know it, everything around you is falling apart. you’ve tried to hold it back—tried so hard—but the frustration is too much. your hands move on their own, knocking over anything within reach, the sounds of things crashing to the floor blending together in a chaotic blur.

you don’t realize how far you’ve gone until the room is a disaster—books torn from the shelves, clothes scattered across the floor, furniture tipped over in your frenzy. it’s only when the last bit of anger burns out that you see the mess you’ve made, and with it comes the crushing guilt. the shame.

you collapse to the floor, pressing your palms to your face, hiding from the destruction you’ve caused. your heart races in your chest, your breathing uneven as the tears come, slow at first, then uncontrollable.

you don’t hear the door open, don’t realize yuta’s standing there until you feel a presence near you. when he speaks, his voice is so soft, so filled with concern, it breaks your heart.

“hey,” he calls your name gently, kneeling in front of you. “what happened?”

you can’t answer him, can’t even look at him. the shame is too much. you’ve done this again—let yourself lose control, let everything spiral. yuta doesn’t push you for answers, though. he just watches you for a moment, waiting for the right time to step in.

“it’s okay,” he whispers after a while, reaching out carefully, his hand brushing against your arm in a tentative gesture. “i’m not mad. i’m just... worried.”

his words hit you in a way you didn’t expect, and before you know it, you’re falling into him. yuta catches you easily, pulling you close to his chest, his arms wrapping around you protectively. he’s warm, gentle, his hands soothing as he rubs slow circles against your back.

“we’ll get through this,” he murmurs against your hair, his voice steady. “whatever’s going on... we’ll handle it together.”

his embrace is firm, but never overwhelming. he holds you just tightly enough to make you feel safe, his chin resting on the top of your head as he lets you cry into his shoulder. yuta’s always been like this—soft, gentle, never pushing too hard but always there when you need him most.

“you don’t have to be afraid of this,” he adds, his voice low. “we’ll take it one step at a time, okay?”

you nod against him, even though you still feel the weight of your emotions pressing down on you. but with yuta’s arms around you, the world feels just a little bit less overwhelming.

as you pull away slightly, just enough to see his face, you can’t help but notice the concern etched in his features. his eyes search yours, looking for any sign of reassurance. “you didn’t have to hide this from me,” he says softly, brushing a thumb across your cheek, wiping away a tear that has slipped free. “i’m here for you, no matter what.”

the sincerity in his voice ignites something inside you—a flicker of hope amidst the storm of despair. “i just... don’t want to be like this,” you admit, your voice trembling. “i don’t want to keep losing control.”

“it’s okay to feel angry sometimes,” he reassures, his expression unwavering. “but you’re not alone in this. you don’t have to handle everything on your own.”

you take a deep breath, allowing his words to wash over you. it’s a reminder that while this moment feels insurmountable, it doesn’t define you. yuta doesn’t judge you for the chaos you’ve created; instead, he’s offering a lifeline, a way to navigate through the darkness together.

“let’s clean this up,” he suggests, pulling back just enough to look you in the eyes. “but first, can we take a minute? just to breathe?”

you nod again, grateful for his understanding. yuta guides you back to the corner of the room where it feels a bit safer, sitting beside you on the floor amidst the wreckage. he takes a moment to simply breathe with you, matching his inhale and exhale to yours. in those shared breaths, you can feel the tension begin to ease, even if just a little.

“you’re strong, you know,” he says softly, looking at you with such intensity that it warms your heart. “even when it feels like everything’s falling apart, you’re still standing here. that means something.”

his words wrap around you like a warm blanket, grounding you further. you manage a small smile, a flicker of gratitude in your chest. “thank you for being here.”

“always,” he replies, the sincerity in his voice bringing a sense of comfort. “let’s start with one thing at a time. how about we pick up the books first?”

you both begin to clear the room together, moving through the remnants of your outburst. with each item you return to its place, you feel a little more in control, a little less lost. yuta’s presence is steady by your side, and as he laughs softly at the absurdity of some of the mess, you can’t help but join him.

“what a tornado you’ve created,” he teases gently, picking up a shirt and throwing it playfully at you. “it looks like a fashion disaster.”

“hey! don’t make fun of my style,” you retort, a laugh bubbling up despite the heaviness of earlier. the sound feels good, like a small victory over the lingering despair.

“i’d never!” he exclaims, mock-indignant. “your style is unique, and it needs to be respected.”

as you work together, the atmosphere shifts. the heaviness that had settled in your chest begins to lift, and with yuta’s playful banter, you start to find a lightness you thought was lost. you realize that even in moments of chaos, you can create something beautiful—like the bond you share with him.

once the room is tidied up, yuta turns to you, his expression serious again. “remember, it’s okay to ask for help. i’m just a call away, and you don’t have to face anything alone.”

you look at him, your heart swelling with gratitude. “i really appreciate you, yuta. for everything.”

“anytime,” he replies, reaching for your hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. “let’s take care of each other, okay?”

as you sit together in the aftermath of the storm, you know that with yuta by your side, you’ll find a way through whatever challenges lie ahead. the world feels just a little bit less daunting, and that’s more than enough for now.

ryomen sukuna

it happens fast—too fast for you to stop it. one moment, you’re pacing around the room, frustration boiling inside you like a pressure cooker, and the next, your hands are smashing into everything within reach. you’ve never been able to control it, this anger that builds and builds until it spills over, consuming everything in its path.

furniture crashes to the floor, papers scatter across the room, and the sound of breaking glass rings in your ears. you’ve wrecked the place, torn it apart with your bare hands, and now, standing in the aftermath, all you can feel is the hollow emptiness left behind.

your chest heaves as you try to catch your breath, tears blurring your vision as the weight of what you’ve done settles in. you sink down to the floor, curling in on yourself, the world around you too much to handle. the anger is gone now, but the shame remains, thick and suffocating.

then you hear him—sukuna. his voice cuts through the silence like a knife, sharp and unmistakable.

“well, well,” he drawls, his tone laced with amusement. “look at the mess you’ve made.”

you flinch, expecting the worst, but when sukuna steps into the room, there’s no mockery in his eyes. he surveys the damage with a raised brow, but instead of berating you, he simply smirks, as if he finds the whole thing more fascinating than anything else.

“you always did have a flair for destruction,” he says, his voice low and smooth. “but this... this is something else.”

you don’t respond. you can’t. the shame is too heavy, too overwhelming, and the last thing you want is for him to see you like this. but sukuna doesn’t leave. instead, he walks over to you, his boots crunching against the broken glass, and crouches down in front of you.

he tilts his head, his red eyes gleaming with something almost like curiosity. “are you done?”

you nod, though it’s barely a movement. your throat is tight, your eyes stinging with unshed tears, and sukuna just watches you for a moment longer before sighing. without another word, he reaches out and pulls you into his arms, not caring about the mess around him.

you’re too tired to resist, too worn out to push him away, and sukuna just holds you there, his grip firm but not painful. there’s a warmth to him, a strange sort of comfort in the way he wraps his arms around you, despite his usual roughness.

“you’re a disaster,” he mutters, his tone teasing but not unkind. “but i suppose you’re my disaster.”

you don’t know why, but his words make the tears come harder, and before you know it, you’re sobbing against his chest, your body trembling with the force of it. sukuna doesn’t shush you or tell you to stop. he just lets you cry, his hand resting on the back of your head, his fingers gently tangling in your hair.

“let it out,” he says, his voice soft now, quieter than you’ve ever heard it before. “you’ll feel better after.”

and somehow, with him holding you, the world feels just a little bit less chaotic. sukuna may not be gentle, but in this moment, he’s exactly what you need. the weight of his arms around you, solid and unyielding, keeps you anchored, keeps you from spiraling any further.

he’s not one for soft reassurances or whispered comforts, but his presence alone is enough to ground you. he lets you break down in his arms, lets you be vulnerable without judgment or impatience. there’s something oddly calming about it—being in the presence of someone so powerful, so utterly in control, when you feel like your world is falling apart.

after a long while, when your sobs finally subside, sukuna pulls back slightly. he tilts your chin up with two fingers, forcing you to meet his gaze. his red eyes bore into yours, sharp and unwavering.

“feel better?” he asks, his voice low, his expression unreadable.

you nod, not trusting your voice to speak. he studies you for a moment longer before he lets go of your chin, standing up and brushing some debris off his clothes as if none of this bothered him in the slightest.

“next time,” he says, his tone casual, as if offering advice on something trivial, “try not to destroy everything. or at least wait until i’m around to enjoy the show.”

there’s a teasing lilt to his words, and despite yourself, despite everything, a small, tired smile tugs at the corners of your lips.

“come on,” sukuna says, offering you his hand to help you up. “let’s get out of here. you need to clear your head.”

you hesitate for only a moment before taking his hand, and he pulls you up effortlessly. as he leads you out of the wreckage of your room, there’s a strange comfort in knowing that, for all his arrogance and rough edges, sukuna’s still here—still willing to stay by your side, no matter how many times you break.

and somehow, with him, that’s enough.

[madi-writes-things]

Making The Bed (Johnie Guilbert X Reader)

Summary:

Pushing away all the people that know me the best…

Word Count: 1,415

TW: Passing Out, ED, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Self Deprecation, Self Destructive Thoughts and Actions, Avoiding Foods, Parties, Drinking, Johnnie Being a Supportive and Good Boyfriend, platonic!Jake Webber

A/N: this has been in my drafts for like three months. Sorry if it seems rushed or anything, I fell asleep halfway through writing it and finished when I woke up. 🫶

“”“”“”“”“”

Y/N’s POV

I stand in the bathroom, obsessively typing the calories from the meal I just ate into the calorie counter that I promised I wouldn’t redownload. I didn’t mean for it to get like this again, but here I am. It just started as a few missed snacks, which turned into meals, and it all snowballed into daily weigh-ins and days with no food. I stop by the mirror for a moment, and I regret it immediately… the second I see myself, I feel my stomach churn.

The worst part of this is the lying to the people close to me… I don’t push them away on purpose, it just makes it easier. On days where I don’t see Johnnie much, I’m able to go the whole day without eating. I know that he’ll find out eventually, but I can’t let it be now.

In an ironic way I find it funny how people on the internet find out what you struggle with, and do their best to make it worse. The only reason that I started skipping snacks, was because people started commenting on my weight gain. It’s not the people who praise me for looking healthier, the issue is the people who spew my worst fears in the comments.

I know in the back of my head, that I will lose everything I’ve worked for if I don’t stay skinny. Johnnie won’t want me, Jake won’t chose me over him, Tara won’t want someone like me as a friend, my fans will get tired of me once I’m not interesting to look at, my family wo-

I hear Johnnie lightly knock on the bathroom door, pulling me from my doom spiral. “you okay in there babe?”

Shit.

I quickly wipe my face off, leaving no trace of the tears that were spilled. “Yeah! Be out in just a second.” Sometimes I wonder if he knows, and he’s happy that I’m losing weight. No. He’s not like that.

“”“”“”“”“”

I think Jake knows…

He stared me down after making me lunch. I think he was trying to see if I actually ate it. He made pasta, and I cried in the bathroom for thirty minutes after leaving the table. I saw him staring at me anytime we were in the same room after that.

Now I’m climbing into his car with Johnnie and Tara, headed to an influencer party. I’m wearing a cute Tank + Cropped Hoodie with skeleton hand’s bedazzled on the tits, and a pair of high waisted jeans. I knew that going out was a bad idea, but I have to stay under Jake’s radar… if he says anything to Johnnie, I’m done for.

I offer to be designated driver when we pull up, there’s no way I’m drinking tonight. One shot of vodka is nearly 100 calories, and vodka is the lowest calorie alcohol I’ve found. Everyone agrees pretty easily.

“”“”“”“”“”

The party has been going on for hours, and all of my friends were pretty tipsy at this point. I decided to go sit with Tara a little bit ago, and now we’re talking about her latest hookup. “He was literally so pretty… and his dick was huge!” She nearly falls over laughing at my reaction. I tell her I’m going to grab a water from the cooler, and find the guys so we can head out.

The second I stand up, everything goes blurry for a second. Shit. I don’t think I’ve had anything to eat since Jake made me, and that was like three days ago. I reach out and steady myself on Tara’s shoulder, as she asks if I’m okay. I mutter a quick yes, as I start walking away. It’s takes a second for my eyes to focus again, but most people just seem to assume I’m drunk.

Once I find the guys, we head out. My head is pounding, and all I want is to get home and go straight to bed. Once we finally get to our room, Johnnie holds me tight in his arms as we drift to sleep.

“”“”“”“”“”

The party was two days ago, and while I know I shouldn’t, I took advantage of everyone’s hangovers. I still haven’t eaten or drank anything other than water. Every morning I wake up lighter than the day before, and I’m not risking gaining any weight at this point.

Today is different, Jake and Johnnie are wide awake. The guys have been filming all morning, and they asked me if I wanted to join them in a video… I obviously agreed. I’ve missed my boyfriend, and I doubt he’d notice anything while we’re out at target.

“”“”“”“”“”

We stopped at three different targets before finding one that would let us film, totaling about an hour and a half of driving around. We’ve been walking around this target for a while, but the lights are too bright and I can’t seem to make my brain work hard enough to figure out how long.

I’m standing in the board game isle when it happens. I see Johnnie’s face fall when he sees me. “Babe, are you okay? You look really pa…” I don’t even hear the full sentence before everything turns to static.

“”“”“”“”“”

Johnnie’s POV

It all happens so fast. One second we’re laughing at something stupid, the next second Y/N has gone completely silent. “Babe, are you okay? You look really pale.” Then it happens. I watch as her eyes roll back into her skull.

Shit.

I barely move fast enough to stop her from hitting her head on the ground. “Jake! Go get some juice and a granola bar.” He practically drops the camera before breaking into a sprint across the store.

nononono… how long have I missed this? It all starts clicking into place… the long bathroom breaks after meals, the pulling away, the way she offered to not drink. Jake returns within 30 seconds, and Y/N starts to stir in my arms.

“”“”“”“”“”

Y/N’s POV

Everything feels like static… I think my eyes are open, but I still can’t see anything. I reach up, and my hand graces something, it takes me a second to register that it’s my loving boyfriend. I mutter a quick apology, and I hear him talking to someone but it’s so muffled. I don’t know how long I lay there before I start to regain feeling in my body. I can’t tell if I’m shaking, but I feel like I’m having a seizure or something.

once I’m able to sit up on my own Johnnie hands me a juice box and a granola bar. I can see Jake sitting across the aisle, also sipping a juice box. They wait until I’m done with my snack before talking. “Baby, I need you to be honest… when is the last time you ate?”

Shitshitshitshit. “I had lunch with Jake.” I try to sound confident, but my voice is shaky. I see Johnnie look across the aisle at Jake, questioning whether I was telling the truth.

“Y/N… that was almost a week ago.” He looks at me with a nearly indecipherable expression, but I know it well. Pity. “Is that really the last time you ate?”

Seeing how worried my they are breaks me. I only allow myself to break down because we are in a fairly secluded area of the store. Johnnie pulls me into his arms, kissing the top of my head. We stay like that for a while before heading home.

“”“”“”“”“”

Three Months Later

That day was a massive wake up call. Johnnie let me take a nap when we got home, while I slept they assembled friends and family. When I woke up they held an intervention. They gave me the choice to Go to an inpatient treatment, or try to get better at home… I chose getting better at home, scared that nobody would wait for me.

That night we worked out a plan. Johnnie made me a meal plan full of foods that I felt safe eating, we threw out the bathroom scale, and we deleted the calorie counter. It wasn’t an overnight change, but I had amazing support from the people around me.

Johnnie is truly the man of my dreams. He never stops telling me how much he loves me, and reassuring me that he would never leave me. He is the reason I wake up in the morning, and I know that he will always be there.

“”“”“”“”“”

@unbruisable @bernardsbendystraws @sturniolo-fann @jnkvivi @stasiesturn

@h3arts4harry @slutforsturniolos

[cosmowgyral]

Falling into Sin with the Black Tiger ~ Gilbert's 4th Birthday

▪︎ A Story from his POV

This is a fan translation so please don't expect it to be 100% accurate. Creative liberties have been taken. All content belongs to Cybird. Reblogs are appreciated. Hope you enjoy!

NSFW/MDNI

I thought the beast of destruction was a greedy creature.

Countries and people alike, can go to any lengths to get what they want.

Despite my self-confidence, I didn't realise it until I was asked, "What do you want?"

I hadn't really thought much about what lay ahead after obtaining everything.

Emma: Gil, aren’t you going to sleep?

After returning to my room from the ballroom, I was gazing aimlessly at the sky when Emma, who had been lying down, suddenly sat up.

Gilbert: I thought I’d bask in the afterglow of my birthday a little longer.

Emma: Then I’ll join you.

She embraced me from behind and the cold night air turned into warmth.

(I noticed that you weren’t sleeping and was waiting for you to join my company…..)

(If I say it out loud, I might get into trouble.)

Gilbert: You should go to sleep.

Emma: I can’t sleep.

Gilbert: Even though we did all sorts of things?

Emma: ……

Just by lightly tracing the hand that had been hugging me, Emma began to get flustered.

The corners of my mouth quirked as I felt the quick increase in heartbeat from my back.

(Maybe I went too far.)

--*flashback from the dining room*--

Emma: Mmm….aahh…your fingers…nghh

Gilbert: You want me to take them out? But I’m not moving them.

Emma: Nnn....you’re lying….

Gilbert: You know I hate lies.

Emma: Aaaahh

Gilbert: See, you’re acting on your own again.

Emma: No…Gil….you just bit my breasts.

Gilbert: It’s cruel to blame others.

Emma: A…ahhh...

--*flashback ends*--

(But it couldn’t be helped. She had a face that was saying “please eat me”.)

When we returned to my room from the dining room, or when we took a bath to wash our messy bodies….

I liked Emma’s reactions, how she tried her best to respond despite being embarrassed, and so I ended up being a little too mean.

Emma: Maybe because of all the things that happened to me…I can’t sleep at all.

Gilbert: You’re right. It’s no wonder you can’t sleep if you’re this anxious.

Emma: …So you can hear my heartbeat.

As Emma tried to move away feeling flustered, I grabbed her hand and pushed her down onto the bed.

Pressing my ear against her soft chest, I could hear her heartbeat more clearly.

Gilbert: It’s becoming faster again.

Emma: That’s how much I love you.

Gilbert: Hehe, thanks?

(The date has changed and so my birthday is over now.)

(You give me what I want every day.)

(I know you’re the only one who will never betray me, even without any threats or domination.)

As she caresses my hair in a pampering manner, the drowsiness is overshadowed by a sinful feeling.

When I poked the bulge visible through her negligee, a sweet sigh escaped from Emma’s mouth.

Emma: What are you doing?

Gilbert: It was right in front of me.

Emma: …Not now.

Gilbert: Because it will come back again?

Emma nodded without understanding a thing.

Gilbert: If you really don’t like it, I can stop….

I pulled up the hem of her nightgown and stroked my fingers between her legs.

It was so wet that it couldn’t have been caused by simple teasing, and it immediately swallowed my fingers.

Gilbert: Is this why you can’t sleep?

Emma: Ahh…again..

Gilbert: It’s a problem to be loved this much, isn’t it?

If I expose Emma’s weakness deep inside her belly, her poor, tormented lower abdomen will soon start dripping with her honey.

Gilbert: Does this mean ‘I love you’?

Emma: That’s….right…

Gilbert: Heehee, I see.

(No matter how many times I experience your ‘love’, it always feels good.)

I massaged her breasts over her negligee, also moving my fingers inside her to scoop out her arousal.

The love I sensed in her warm gaze was genuine.

Even though I’m such a terrible man, Emma always loves me.

(You asked me to be selfish on my birthday this year….)

(I thought my last selfish wish in life was to meet you.)

(I made up a reason to go to Rhodolite and get involved with Emma, even if it meant ruining her life.)

(I had never thought of anything more selfish than that, and I could never think of anything else.)

When I kissed a breathless Emma, she put her hands behind my head as if welcoming me.

I was moved by the way she kissed me, as if conveying that she wasn’t opposed to this at all.

(….Now that I think about it, it seemed obvious.)

(It’s only recently that I’ve started thinking about my future.)

When our lips part, a thread hangs in the dim light.

Emma: You too, Gil….

Gilbert: Hmm?

Emma’s hand rested on my cheek, and I was smiling kindly, too kind for a villain.

Emma: You act like you love me.

Gilbert: Hehe, isn’t that obvious?

Gilbert: I wouldn’t do this if I didn’t love you.

I pull out my fingers from inside her and help her sit up.

Emma seemed to understand my intentions immediately, and blushing bright red, she climbed on to my lap.

(I’m spending time now that shouldn’t have existed in the first place.)

(And if you plan on staying here from now on….)

(Maybe it is a good idea to take some time to think of my own future.)

(Most of my memories are already made up of blood and corpses, painted all black…)

(The memories we make give me hope for the future.)

Emma lowered herself on me, and hugged me tightly.

Emma: Haah…Gil…

Gilbert: You’re okay with moving on your own again?

Emma: That’s…not true…

Emma said “that’s not true”, but as she moved her hips she lets out a small shriek.

It seemed she had moved unconsciously, and again, I couldn’t help but laugh.

(When I’m with you, I feel so happy.)

(…I’m sure Emma knows very well what it means for me to be happy.)

I secretly watched Emma bustling about preparing for my birthday, but this year too, I couldn’t keep a smile on my face.

I imagine Emma had her own thoughts about giving her blessings to the great villain.

Even so, I didn’t sense any hesitation.

She had already made up her mind to celebrate this blood-soaked man.

Emma: I think…you’ll be asked…'what you want to do’ next year as well.

Emma: So please, give it…a lot of thought.

Emma: I’ll make all your wishes come true.

Gilbert: Does that mean you won't be listening to me until next year?

Emma: If you have one now…please…ah

I intentionally move my body and Emma’s expression changes again.

I never get tired of her expressions filled with ‘love’.

(For now, all I can say is….)

Gilbert: I’d love to go on a date with you again.

Emma: Like…the other day?

Gilbert: Yeah. I like spending casual times like that.

Emma: Me too.

Gilbert: After that….

Bodies intertwined, lips pressed together, heartbeats synchronized, and then our gazes meet and we smile together.

Gilbert: Will you celebrate my birthday next year too?

(And commit many more sins…)

(Will you fall with me?)

[Chapter 3] [Masterlist]

He loves her sooo much omg, I really LOVED this story. I'm so glad he's happy.

Also when he said he went to Rhodolite for her....god, I just hate to imagine him going there for her, only for her to end up with the other princes (in other routes). Even though Silvio's my favourite, I feel miserable.

[asherthehimbo]

Listen to my music, listen to your heart

previous | fifteen : the sun is still a star, no matter the time of day| m. list | next

notes: warnings, death, grief, domestic violence, physical abuse, verbal abuse, injuries (broken arm plus some bruised ribs), overworked kid, homophobia, mentions of religion, not too much though, bestings, sibling hate, love, self doubt, brief mention of starvation, this is a dark one guys, we HATE mr. Lee trust.

word count: 8. 4k

The two boys sit on the picnic blanket in the shade of the big tree in their favorite park, little snacks and toys littered around them as they play. The elder of the two silently making a bracelet out of flowers he’s collected as the younger plays with the sunlight. Hand moving in and out from the shade as he giggles. “Warm” he says as his hand is extended, before retracting it back into the shade of the tree “and cold!”

“Are you having fun with the sun Channie?” the older boy giggles as he looks at his friend briefly before focusing back on the creation in his hands. “Yeah it’s really fun! Like when my hand is outside the shade it's warm, but when it's inside it's cold again! Come on Bubbles, try it!” Chan's hand reaches for [Name]’s before pulling it out into the sun and retracting it again. “See? The sun keeps us warm!” Chan says as he drops [Names]’s hand. “Mhm, the sun keeps us warm, but too much of it can also hurt us yaknow?” he says softly.

“So? It’s pretty and makes me feel nice! It’s not hurting us on purpose! The sun is nice! It’s like you!” Chan smiles at [Name]. “Like me?” [Name] asks softly as he looks at Chan surprised. “Yeah! It's warm and cozy like when you hug me! And it makes me feel nice like you do when you compliment me! It also makes it light outside like when you help me through the dark hallway’s on sleepovers, and it’s pretty and bright like when you smile!” Chan's words are like an arrow right through [Name]s heart. The six year old is pretty mature for his age, and he thinks that the warm feeling blossoming in his chest now is similar to what they call love in the movies.

“Hm.. so I’m your sun?” [Name] asks as he looks at Chan smile, Chan nods his head and [Name] speaks again, “Will you be my moon then?” Chan tilts his head confusedly “Yaknow being my light in the night? Something that stands out in the dark sky?” At the elders' words Chan nods his head excitedly before reaching out his pinky. “Let’s promise!”, [Name] interlocks his pinky with Chan before striking out his thumb as Chan connects their thumbs. “It's locked in!” [Name] giggles.

Poor kids, didn’t they know? The sun may be bright but it’s burning everything around it, it’s overheating and burning itself with no way of stopping. The sun may be beautiful, but so is destruction, truly wonderful that a child's innocence allows them to remain unaware of this fact. At least they can enjoy this wonderful moment, lest it be their last.

—--------------

Stepping up to the door of your apartment, Chan could feel his heart beating out of his chest. His palms sweaty and clammy, his breathing almost erratic as he tries to control it. He’s shifting on his legs as he debates ringing the doorbell. Before he got here his mind was racing with questions so loud he couldn’t even hear the outside world, but now its so achingly silent he feels like he could go insane. He takes a deep breath again before eventually ringing the doorbell, he’s looking down at his feet- he’s not sure if he can actually face you because he knows if he looks in your eyes he’d crumble.

The door opens and he can hear your breath hitch but he doesn't care he does, he walks past you, no greeting audible as he keeps his head down. Walking into the familiar living room before sitting down on the couch, fiddling with his hands. You silently follow him, your mind a whirlwind of its own. You stand before him before you open your mouth “Channie I-” “Don’t just, don’t call me that. You don’t get to call me that, not right now. I want answers, I want to know why you didn’t think I was good enough?” Chan finally looks up at you, his eyes are red and brimmed with tears and his lip is quivering. Your heart shatters and you immediately lower yourself onto your knees so you’re eye-level with him.

You gently take his face in your hands and wipe away the tears that fall with your thumb, forcing him to finally meet your eyes, “No, no it's not like that Channie. I promise you it will never be like that. You’re good enough, you’re better than good enough- it’s just. I couldn't be selfish and sacrifice the happiness of everyone around me just so that I could be with you. Trust me I wanted to, fuck I wanted to be with you so bad, I want to be with you so bad but I- Chan it would be so wrong of me. The happiness of you, of my family would be taken away because of that and I can’t bring myself to do that to you, to them” Your voice is barely above a whisper but it’s filled with deep emotion that Chan has never heard from you.

“How? How would us being together influence the happiness of others, of your family? Why do you think it would hurt me?” Chan's lips are wobbling as he speaks, his voice desperate. “It’s a long story Channie I don’t- I don’t want you to see anyone differently because of it. I don’t want to ruin others' perception of what they know by sharing it.” You say sympathetically.

“Please, I deserve the truth, after everything we’ve been through I want to- I need to know” He grips your hands that rest on his cheeks. “I- okay do you remember when we were really young? Like right before Olivia was born, me, Rachel and Lix went to live with my granddad for a while yeah?” You ask softly and Chan nod’s. “Okay so there’s a reason for that, it wasn’t just cause my mom needed some alone time uhm”

At the age of six, bones break as easily as sticks

“And then they stwepped on the wainbow wight?” Little four year old Rachel says to her younger brother who listens intently. Two year old Felix laying on his stomach as he looks wide eyes to his big sister, head nodding at her words, both toddlers are sitting on the soft playmat in the livingroom. Behind Rachel sits the eldest Lee child, gently styling his sister's hair into twin braids to the best of his six year old capabilities. “Okway so then-” his sisters retelling of one of her new favorite Barbie movie is cut short when their mother walks into the room, she smiles softly at her three children as she walks to them, one hand on her back as the other rests on her pregnant belly, her bump just barely visible. “Hm, [Name] dearest we’re gonna go visit Granddad okay? A sleepover isn't that fun?” The two youngest kids start giggling and cheering but the eldest looks at his mother wearily, her smile seems strained and he can see what looks to be a bruise forming around the wrist that's behind her back. “Can you take your siblings upstairs and help them pack for me baby?” her words are directed at the eldest as he nods.

He silently stands up, picking up his younger brother, securing him on his hip before taking his sister's hand and walking out of the living room up the stairs to their bedrooms. He has a sinking feeling in his stomach, it's bad and dark and he doesn’t like it, it makes him nauseous but he doesn't say anything. Instead he follows his mothers orders, wanting to make any and everything easier for her in her current state. After a while as he’s ensured he’s packed everything needed for him and his siblings he walks back down the stars, only now the closer he gets to the living room, the louder he hears the voices of his parents. The sinking feeling gets darker and he feels weak, like he’s crumbling under the shadow monster festering in his stomach, he puts Felix down in fear that he’d drop him. Placing their bags by the stairs and his two siblings next to one another, “Stay here okay? Big brother is just gonna go check on momma” he says softly and after the two nodded he walks silently to the living room.

“YOU CAN’T JUST FUCKING TAKE MY CHILDREN AWAY FROM ME” he hears his fathers muffled voice scream through the door, anger evident. “I CAN’T HAVE MY CHILDREN STAY HERE WITH YOU IF YOU KEEP THIS UP” his mothers voice is desperate, he silently opens the living room door as he looks at them. His father seems frazzled, button up shirt a mess as it's rolled up by his arms, hair sticking every direction as the vein in his forehead pops in the way it always does when he's mad. His mother is practically shaking as she stands on the other side of the couch, in front of the glass coffee table that [Name] knows they’ll have to baby proof again soon once his mother gives birth.

‘KEEP THIS UP? I AM DOING NOTHING BUT CARE FOR MY FAMILY” his father states angrily as he walks closer to his wife. “YOU AREN'T, CARING FOR THEM DOESN'T MEAN HITTING YOUR SON SO HARD YOUR HAND IS IMPRINTED ON HIS BACK JUST BECAUSE HE WANTED TO SPEND TIME WITH HIS FRIEND. CARING FOR THEM DOESN'T MEAN GOING OUT AND SLEEPING WITH SOMEONE ELSE. YOU AREN'T CARING FOR THEM, YOU’RE ABUSING THEM!” his mother screams and her words seem to snap something in his father.

What happens next is almost in slow motion, his father moves forward fast and pushes his mother in a fit of rage, unluckily [Name] is faster as he opens the door and bolts for his mother. Without thinking he gets behinds her, wrapping his little arms around her back as they’re gently placed on her stomach, he feels the table beneath him shatter, he feels the tiny pieces of glass sticking into his back, his head hurts and he think he’s landed wrong because his one arm is bent weirdly. The rest is kind of blurry to him, he hears his father scream, blaming him for being in the way, he hears his mother crying, asking if he’s okay and muttering apologies. He hears the shuffle of little feet as his younger siblings rush into the room, and his only thought is that he hopes they didn’t see anything. That his mother and his unborn sibling are safe.

When he wakes up to a very bright light, his whole body hurts and for a moment his eyes can’t focus correctly, he goes to use his arm as a way to block the bright light but is met with a big white cast. “[Name]? Are you awake my boy?” The voice of his grandpa speaks from his side, but it feels wrong. His grandpa’s voice is always happy and upbeat, loud and able to warm up any room, only now it sounds worried, soft even. He turns his head to his grandfather, ignoring the headache before he asks “Are they okay?” his grandpa looks confused, “Is who okay my boy?” “Mom, mom and the baby, are they okay?” his grandpa's lips seem to draw into a line before he answers, “Yes. Yes, they’re fine, they’re talking to your doctor right now. Everyones here, the Bahngs too, we’ve all been worried for you” [Name] looks at him confused, “what do you mean? Why is everyone here?” he asks as he tries to sit up, wincing at the pain in his ribs.

“Hey hey don’t try to move too much, you've got a few bruised ribs there, your back is pretty torn up too” his grandpa states, and the boy just nods. “You've been asleep for about a whole day my boy, when you were brought in last night you went into surgery for about 4 hours before being put on heavy anesthesia, doctors said your injuries aren’t too extreme so when you wake up and they’ve deemed it safe you can go home, but you do have a concussion, now before your mom gets in here want to tell me what really happened? Cuz I don’t believe the story of your mom just slipping and you happened to be in the way” the boy only moves his face to the other side of the room, he knows he can’t lie to his grandpa but he doesn't want to tell him the truth either. “Now come on-” his grandpa’s words are cut off as his name is screamed and people rush into the room, his mom, then his two little siblings. The little body of his sister jumping onto the bed, despite the pain he chuckles as she hugs him.

“Hey, Rache sweetie you’re hurting your brother” his grandfather states as his mom places kisses all over his face, muttering apologies as his youngest brother is sat by his feet, holding onto his leg. People start slowly shuffling into the room, Chan is first as he rushes to his best friends side and for a moment [Names] eyes light up happy to see his friend, until his father walks into the room and his face drops, he practically ignores Chan as he feels his fathers eyes on him. “Excuse me, I need to do a check up on him now that he’s awake, all this attention isn’t good right now could everyone move out please?” the doctor speaks as she walks into the room, checking some of the machines next to [Name]. A moment of silence passes as the people start to shuffle out without hesitance, “Can uhm- can Grandpa stay?” [Name] speaks softly, the doctor's eyes soften before nodding. “Yeah, one person staying won't hurt,” she replies.

As she checks over him and [Name] answers all her questions truthfully as he sips water for his dry throat he can feel his grandpa’s curious eyes on him. “Can we stay with you when I get out? Only until mom gives birth” [Name] asks his grandfather hesitantly, as the elder man's eyes soften, “Yeah bud, your moms already planned for you three to come visit me for a while, she needs some time, fourth pregnancy is hitting her hard she said” his grandfather replied, he nods his head as he continues to fiddle with the cap of the water bottle in his hand. The next 30 or so weeks would hopefully be calm for him and his siblings, but he doesn't know what will happen after that, when he gets back home. He’s scared of what his father will do.

At the age of ten, you realize you'll never see your childhood again

“Come on Bubbles, let's play!” Chan says excitedly to the older boy as he stands in the doorway of the study room in the Lee family home, Felix standing behind him as the young boy holds onto the back of Chan’s shirt as he looks at his older brother. “I can't right now Channie, I have to study, maybe later?” The elder says as he sits at his desk, books all around him, pens scattered around. His hair has grown a bit longer than it was when he was younger, it’s almost past his ears. Chan groans a bit at the elders' response “Come on you’ve been studying all day” [Name] sighs at Chan's words, “I'm sorry Channie I just need to finish this, I'll be out later okay?” he says softly. Chan’s dejected face breaks his heart but he can’t afford to not study, not after what his father had done to him last time.

“Okay well we’ll be outside then..” Chan says softly as he turns around, Felix following him, not before giving his older brother a little wave and a small smile. They close the door behind them, leaving [Name] alone with his own thoughts. He turns his attention back to the notes in front of him but he can’t think anymore, his vision is blurry as tears line his eyes, the sting of staring at the books all day is giving him a migraine. He leans back a moment, massaging his head, but it doesn't help. His stomach grumbles a bit, reminding him he hasn’t eaten since breakfast but he pays it no mind, he knows if he goes out of this room now his father wouldn’t be happy. Instead he just takes a sip of the water bottle on his desk before sitting upright and continuing his studying. Wiping the tears lining his eyes when they would form.

Time like this passed by quickly, before he knew it the only light in the room had come from his lamp, the sun had set and the moon, at the end of her phase had brought little light through the window. [Name] could no longer hear the giggles of his younger siblings and friends outside. There was some commotion inside the house a while ago, when the family had dinner, he heard voices clearly when his mother had opened the door to bring him food. The warm smile she gave him would've been comforting if not for the sympathy swirling in her eyes. Ever since the accident she had yet to look at him the same, he guesses that's because he had only moved back home recently, only because his grandpa was sick and couldn't care for him alone anymore so they had to move back.

The life he had tried so hard to forget quickly came back to him, and he couldn't stop it. He couldn't tell anyone, that would only make it worse. He thinks his grandfather knows, or at least suspects something, he always does. But the man isn't as strong and happy as he used to be. He can't protect [Name] anymore, but that's okay, this time [Name] will just have to protect him, protect all of them.

He stares at his plate of uneaten food, he forgot about it, and with the anxiety bubbling in his stomach he doesn't have too much of an appetite. Despite his hunger just the thought of consuming the food made him want to vomit. He couldn't do this anymore, just sit here in the silence, his head throbbing with pain as he tries to hold back tears. So he stands up, he opens the door softly, and when he doesn't hear commotion he closes it again, only now he's outside the room of nightmares.

Softly he drags himself up the stairs to his grandfather's room, he walks past the rooms of his siblings as he hears soft giggles echo from them. He wants so badly to stop, to join them, any of them, to laugh with them, but he can't, he can't face them like this. So he continues to walk slowly, opening the door and seeing his grandfather sitting on his bed, back leaning against the headrest as he holds a book, his glasses at the bottom of his nose, he looks up at the door and smiles. Almost as if he's expecting his dearest grandson. He puts down the book, along with his reading glasses and opens his arms.

He doesn't say a word, but [Name] is thankful, he lets the tears that well in his eyes fall as he closes the door, or at least he believes he does. He rushes to his grandfather's side, immediately sobbing as he clings to the elder man. His grandfather's arms around him have always been comforting, the soft flesh surrounding him like a protective blanket. It wasn't like being wrapped in the bony arms of his mother, caused by the starvation his father put her through, when she would cry to him about not being able to protect him. It wasn't like the hard muscle or his fathers arms that would put force behind each beating he received. No, his grandfather was soft, he was accepting.

“Shh., it's okay my boy, I'm here, it's okay you can rest now” His grandfather whispers as he pats the boy's head. “It hurts grandpa, it hurts so much” [Name] sobs as he curls more into his grandfather. “What hurts my boy?” he asks softly. “Everything, my head, it hurts from studying all day, it's so painful. I just want it to stop, everything hurts. My heart hurts, my chest burns. I just want to play with them. I just want to play with him. Why can't I play with him, Grandpa? Why aren't I allowed to?” the little boy's body shakes as he sobs, and it's at times like these that he's reminded this is exactly what he is. A little boy, a child.

“Who is it you wish to play with my dear boy?” his grandfather asks, although he already knows the answer, but the young mind listening in on their conversation doesn't, and his grandfather intends to give him that knowledge. “Channie.. I just want to play with Channie again… I miss him Grandpa, I miss him so much. He's always right there, but I can't - I cant-” the boy can't finish his words as he continues to choke on his own tears. His Grandfather just simply sushes him, rubbing his back in a comforting manner, becoming acutely aware of the bumps or raised skin he can feel through the thin shirt on his grandson's back.

It's a while of this, continuing until the boy has stopped crying, his tears still falling but his breathing is more stable now, his eyes are shut as he drifts off. He's always been a heavy sleeper after he's cried. It's this fact that causes his grandfather to act as he does. “You can come in Chan” he says, and the boy looking through the crack in the doorway yelps at being noticed. He slowly opens the door, eyes only on his sleeping friend. “You knew I was here?“ He asks softly as he walks closer, “I always do my boy” the old man smiles at him.

“Is Bubbles gonna be okay? “ Chan looks up at the elderly male, before looking back down at his friend in worry. “He will be, one day…. but until that day comes I need you to promise me something Chan, can you do that?” Chan nods his head frantically and the old man chuckles. “One day, one day when I'm not here anymore, will you take care of him for me?” Chan looks confused “you're leaving?” his voice is hesitant. “No, no not anytime soon, but one day I might have to… will you promise me you'll take care of him then?” Chan nods again, a smile on his face “mhm! I'll do everything I can to protect him”

“that's good my boy, thank you… thank you for giving an old man some peace of mind”

At the age of sixteen is when you realize the world is awfully mean

It was one of the rare days in the Lee household that everyone [Name] loved was in the same place. His father was gone on a business trip and his mother is currently out grocery shopping, leaving only him and his sibling home alone with their grandfather for the day. Chan had decided to tag along, hanging out at the Lee house under the guise of ‘studying’.

So now, sitting in the big study room, some of his siblings spread out at their own desks around him, some up in their rooms, knowing his grandfather was up in the house as well, he felt at peace. It's a strange feeling for him, being at peace, especially recently. His grandfather's state has rapidly been declining in the last few months, the stress it's put the family in causing his father to act out. Push and punish him more, spend more nights away from home, leaving his mother to mourn the loss of their relationship as it was before.

He hates having to hear his mother cry due to his fathers infidelity, the man so easily breaking the trust of his soulmate, it's broken his belief in soulmates and that brings an empty feeling to his stomach, makes bile crawl up his throat because he's sixteen now. It's about time he gets his soulbond, he tries to push the thoughts away, really he does, but they keep coming back to him. He can't even focus on the pages in front of him.

All he can think about is his soulbond, and the fact that Chan’s music is awfully loud. Like seriously he's sitting across the room and wearing headphones how has no one else asked him to turn down his volume, lest his eardrums burst. “Channie? Your music’s a bit loud, isn’t it hurting your ears?” he asks softly, Felix gives him a confusing look from the side of the room as Chan looks up at him, lifting one of his ear cups off his ears as he pauses his music. “Huh? It’s not that loud though..” Chan mumbles at the same time that Felix says “I can’t even hear it, your ears must be really good Hyung!”. [Name] looks between to two boys, before shaking his head and standing up, “Im- im sorry I think I have have just been studying too hard, i'm going to the kitchen” he shakes his head almost as if he’s disoriented, ignores the worries mumbles of his brother and friend as he walks out of the room.

Something is incredibly wrong as he stands in the kitchen. His half drunk glass of water forgotten as it stands on the island before him, his hands grip the sides of the counter as he feels his head throb, as if spikes are piercing it. Worst of all, he can still hear Chan's music, and he knows that's not right because Chan is in another room, he is wearing headphones, [Name] can still hear his voice as well, this shouldn't be possible. His ears are hurting, it feels like his eardrums are going to burst. He has a burning sensation on the side of his hip, and before he knows it the pain makes his legs give out beneath him.

He sits there on the ground, trying to think, biting his bottom lip, until it starts bleeding, in an effort to keep quiet, an effort to ground himself. He sits on the floor of the kitchen, he doesn't know how long, it must have been at least 10 minutes until the pain in his side subsides, his headache now a dull throb and not blinding pain. He takes a moment to breathe, the music in his head now a soft hum almost like a comforting lullaby. He doesn't know what happened, and he tries to think, think of any and all possibili- oh. oh. As he slightly lifts up his shirt on instinct, looking at where the pain was, he now sees a tattoo. A little music note with the letter ‘C’ written in scarily familiar handwriting. Realization hits him slower than he thought it would. The subtle humming in his head reassuring him.

Bahng Chan is his soulmate. Chan is his soulmate. Channie, his Channie is his soulmate. oh he's so fucked.

Later that night, the moon witnesses that the Sun’s tears are just as bright

Chan has been worried about [Name] since earlier today. It was the small things that alerted him at first, the way [Name] couldn't focus on his work, how he kept rubbing his temples as if he had a headache, his hearing sensitivity seemingly increasing as he could hear Chan's music. Then, he disappeared into the kitchen for a while, before coming back holding a warm water bottle against his stomach, against the side of his hip, Chan lifted a brow questioningly but didn't ask. He knew better by now, [Name] may have been his best friend, he always will be, but as his best friend Chan knew [Name] wouldn't talk to him. Not even if he asked.

It's dark now, Ms. Lee had gotten back, she was busy making dinner in the kitchen, three out of four of her kids around her, when Chan left the kitchen Felix had been talking animatedly about a new game he was playing. Chan had gone to get [Name], who was upstairs with grandpa Lee, as dinner was almost ready.

He had a sense of Deja vu as he walked up the stairs, he neared Grandpa Lee’s room and heard sniffles, ones oddly familiar to him. The door slightly ajar, yet Chan doesn't say anything, he just stands, stands and watches through the little open sliver as [Name] lays in his grandfather's arms.

The scene so eerily familiar, yet scarily different as [Name] is now older, much bigger too, he's grown out of most of his baby face, only a little bit of his immaturity still shown on his face, his hair is much longer than it was when he was young, his shoulders much more broad. Grandpa Lee is much smaller, much more frail than those years ago too, he's lost a lot of weight, an unhealthy amount of it, his eyes no longer bright and full of joy, now sunken in and sullen.

There's a moment of silence, only the soft sniffles of [Name] leaving the room before Grandpa Lee calls Chan in, because of course he knew the younger was there. Grandpa Lee always knows. Chan walks in, and unlike his younger self, he sits next to [Name] the older boy turns in his sleep but doesn't do anything to suggest he's awake. Chan gently brushes the sleeping male's hair with his fingers before looking at Grandpa Lee “what happened to him?... “ he asks, and his voice is trembling, as if he's scared to hear the answer. “Never mind that Chan, do you remember, a few years ago we were all sitting quite like this” Chan nods his head, his eyes still not tearing away from [Name’s] sleeping face, “and do you remember what I asked you to promise me?” Chan nods his head, “Yeah… yeah yeah I promised I'd protect [Name] when you couldn't”

Grandpa Lee takes a deep breath “it was crue of me to ask you such a promise at such a young age… but K know you love him Chan, as more than a friend” Chan's head snaps up, eyes wide “oh don't be so surprised, a Grandpa knows everything….. but Chan, I need you to promise me again, now that you're older, wiser, now that my death is near- ""Grandpa don't -"" It's the truth Chan, we both know it. I need you to promise me again Chan, things have changed, this ask is bigger than what you could be aware of.”

“Me and Bubbles have grown apart a bit.. It hurts and I don't know why it happened. I don't know if he'll ever want me to care for him, to protect him like I want to, but I'll try. I promise I'll try Grandpa Lee” Chan looks back down at the sleeping male, smiling slightly, “I wish his face could always look this peaceful” he whispers, “So do I my boy, so do I” Grandpa Lee gently pats his back.

A few months after, grief only caused disaster

The air was tense, the crowd silent, only sniffles heard among the downturned heads. The loudest sobs coming from the front row where the direct descendants of Grandpa Lee sit. Rachel, clinging to her eldest brother, her face buried in his shoulder as he tries to comfort her, It's hard though, since Felix is right on the other side, mirroring his elder sister's actions. [Name] hugs them close, rubbing their backs gently as their sobs and shaking bodies stick against him. He's not here- not fully, not anymore.

The people around him think it's weird- that he's not crying. He can hear them whisper about the fact that his face has remained stoic this entire time, not a tear or a wobbly lip in sight- he doesn't have the virtue of showing vulnerability now. That's something they don't understand, so he forgives them, it's okay, they don't know. It's good that they don't know, means they won't treat his family differently, means his siblings and mother will be happy. He knows its hard on everyone, his grandfathers death- fuck it feels like his hearts just been ripped out of his chest- his only support taken away without warning but we did warn you [Name] , don't you remember? you knew this would happen.

He can hear the slight sniffles of Chan behind him, but for once he doesn't feel the urge to turn around and comfort his soulmate, instead he wants to curl away and hide from the world, from the cold gaze of his father. His gaze may be stoic, but his fathers is angry- full of rage even and [Name] knows exactly why. He acted out, failed a pop quiz, but can you really blame him? it had happened right after his grandfather died a few days ago and when his father found out- oh boy did he yell. And for once, [Name] yelled back and his fathers anger was not only taken out on him but his mother as well.

His grandfather not being here anymore only solidifies his belief, the belief that he needs to be the one to care for the family now. So he stands up, mid service, gives his father a look and walks out, there are sounds of confusion but nobody dares stop him. He walks towards the church at the far end of the graveyard, it’s empty and he takes a moment to breathe before the hell he knows will break loose.

The air feels thick as it enters his throat, his eyes blurry as he tries to keep away the tears that want to fall. Before he can further clear his mind, a hand harshly grips his wrist, the intensity of the action already alerts him of who the person is as he’s dragged into one of the rooms of the church. He’s thrown into the room as the heavy door closes with a bang, the emptiness of the room causes the sound to echo against the marble tiles.

“WHAT exactly do you think you’re doing?? Running off from your grandfather's funeral after the stunt you pulled- do you WANT another beating??” [Names] father screams as he crosses his arm, glaring down at his son. “Yes” the boy responds in a monotone voice “Excuse me??” his father lifts a brow.

“I want the beating, I want the anger- whatever fucked up punishnment you have to offer, offer it to me. I’ll be your perfect fucking son, be anything you fucking want but you leave my siblings alone- you don’t fucking touch them-” [Names] voice laced with anger drips from his tongue like venom but he still doesnt look his father in the eye, the older man interrupts his son “And who are you to order me around boy?” The last word makes something churn in [Names] heart, not anxiety, not fear, but blinding rage. His father sees him as so little, so weak, and he hates it.

With strength he didn’t even know he possessed, he moved forward, yanking his fathers collar so the slightly taller man would be at his level, “I may not be able to stop you, I may fear you enough to let the abuse continue with myself- but I love them too much to have it continue with them. This boy is the one with the scars and proof to end your entire fucking empire before it reaches its glory. So you listen closely, father, you leave my siblings alone, whatever they choose, whoever they choose- you let them do what they want. You will be a good father to them, you will love and support them. To my mother, you will care for her, you will ensure she’s happy, that she’s the luckiest woman in the world- otherwise I’ll end you myself, using the knowledge you’ve forced upon me I'll end you I swear to God. I swear to God in this church, on this holy land, beneath the eyes of my grandfather I swear your downfall will be worse than that of Samael, you'll have an image so volatile that it stands unparalleled to what Lucifer faces in the eyes of his siblings.” The older man doesn’t speak, he hasn't seen such anger, such determination behind the eyes of anyone, let alone someone as young as his eldest son. But Lee is a ruthless man. An arrogant man who doesn't take kindly to his ego being bruised.

And so, with ease and familiarity he brings his hand up to his son's neck, squeezing until the younger lets go of his fathers collar. “And what do you expect me to do hm? If they disappoint me? How do you expect me to handle that?” he asks almost mockingly, not knowing his son will have a solution. He comes from the blood of his father after all. “I'll take it, I'll do whatever you want, achieve whatever you want- I'll be your perfect plaything, but you will give them a happy life” Despite his constricted breath, 16 year old [Name] glares at his father. He has people he needs to protect, his mother, his siblings, his soulmate. If being away from them, isolating himself and ensuring his father only hates him is what will keep them safe, then he’ll do it over and over again. In every lifetime, hell torture himself for their sake. For what is the value of a star in the daytime?

There's a moment of silence, [Name] refusing to audibly gasp for air as he stares at his father, the pain in his throat burning, within an instant his fathers grip is released. “I must say, your tenacity reminds me quite of myself, son” The older man pats [Names] shoulder as the younger catches his breath, glaring up at his father. “I'll accept this deal, only since you've shown me that I've raised you well.”

Keeping journals is not for the weak, because his sister decided to sneak

[Name] is tired. His back hurts, his whole body aches from the memory of his fathers disappointment, he just wants to fall down onto the softness of his bed and hope the comforting blankets will soothe his aches and not worsen anything. But hasn't it been proven that [Name’s] wishes never come true?

Entering his room, the bland and desolate room, the four walls of his false heaven isolating him from his family. His mother that's seemed happier since the deal was made, Rachel, who seems to hate him now- for reasons he's not sure; Felix and Olivia both busy with their own lives and despite wanting a relationship with their eldest brother not knowing how to create one with the boy who they never see anymore.

Opening his door he can feel something wrong in his room before his eyes fall on his sister reading his journal. Rachel is reaching his journal- the journal he’s been using to keep track of every feeling he’s had since grandfather died- every secret.

In a fast motion he leaps forward, roughly grabbing the leatherbound book from his sister's old as she looks up at him. The look in her eyes is more anger and shock than it is disappointment or sadness, and that makes the back of his mind relax as it means she hasn't read the worst, hopefully not yet.

“Rachel wha-'' His voice is gritted in anger, betrayal that she would invade his privacy, but he doesn't shout. Never, he doesn't ever want to shout at her. “You're Chan's soulmate." She interrupts him, it's not a question, not said in joy, no- she's almost in disbelief. “I-”

“You're his fucking soulmate. AND YOU DIDN'T TELL HIM??“ She's screaming now, and he closes his door as he hurriedly shushes her in hopes of not alerting the rest of their family. “Rachel, please be quiet.'' his voice is desperate and at least she complies. “Yes he's my soulmate, no I didn't tell him and I'm not going to. I can't-” “Can't handle the responsibility of caring for someone? you're a deadbeat brother and now a deadbeat soulmate too?” she quirks her brow, her tone almost expectant now. “Rachel what are you talking about? A deadbeat -” Rachel nods her head “You barely ever fucking talk to us, you don't care for us. Ever since grandpa died you haven't even been a brother to us. You're basically a stranger living in this house [Name].” her last sentence stings, the way she spits his name, no sign of respect or calling him her brother.

He wants to defend himself, really he wishes he could- he wants to tell her how much he wishes to be there for her, how he wants to hug her, to chase away all her worries, to be the big brother he used to be; but the way she looks at him now, it lets him know that those wishes are for not. She hates him, believes him to be no better than a stranger.

She hurts him, but is that not love between siblings? he lets her hate him, lets her believe all the vile things her mind concocts, because at least this means she's loved by his father. “You're pathetic [Name], but U never thought you'd stoop this low” she says before walking out of the room, her shoulder knocking against his forcefully.

His knees want to give in beneath him as his eyes sting with unfallen tears, yet he can't help but be grateful, at least she didn't read far enough to know about the deal. At Least she still has her picture perfect family - even if he feels like he is the one holding the camera.

Right before you depart, he ensures he'll always have your heart.

“Just because you're a big university student now doesn't mean you forget about me, okay? I'll be right behind you next year so don't even entertain the thought” Chan jokes, looking up at [Name], there's a bittersweet tone to his voice and his signature smile is plastered on his face. Yet the way it doesn't reach wide enough to show off his cute dimples, to crinkle his eyes which hold unshed tears make [Name’s] heart ache. He could never forget Chan, never forget the beauty of one he sees as hand grafted by the angels.

“I would never forget you Channie” [Name’s] voice is somber, in a slip of emotion he lets it deepen to its natural tone, rather than the one he's been using to cover up his secret. Chan doesn't seem to notice, too caught up in his own mind- or maybe assuming it's due to the underlying goodbye behind his words. “Bubbles, you're my sun right? you'll still be with me when the earth dies, when the people have rotted away and all that's left are the inhabitable planets of our solar system” Chan asks, his words aren't stated in a questioning tone, it's more directed to himself than the man before him- as if he's reassuring himself. He fiddles with something in his pocket as he rolls on the balls of his feet. [Name] takes Chan’s face in his hands, pushes his thumbs gently into Chan's dimples to make him smile. “Always, the Moon will never be without the sun’s light” The words feel heavy on his tongue as it flows past his lips. Unwavering because he knows it's true, but the glaring stare of his father a few feet away reminds him he can't be as close to Chan as he wants. Just because the Moon is in the Sun's orbit, does not mean they are meant to be, for there are many miles between them.

Chan nods his head in [Names] hands, before taking of his right hand gently off his cheek, “then wear this” Chan says, placing a silver ring on [Names] ring finger “I know your soulmate will eventually put a ring on your left finger when you get married- but I get to have your right” he says cheekily, despite the blush coating his face. ‘You get to have my everything- just ask for it and i'll give you. Please for the love of God ask for it because I need you to want me to love you. I need you to need me the way I do you’

[Name] has never been one to share his thoughts though. “I will Channie- thank you” he twirls the ring on his finger, feelings it's comforting steel against his skin, “I uhm- I have a matching one” Chan says, holding up his right hand, a ring similar to [Names] on his ring finger, only his has a blue moon instead of golden sun in the middle. [Name’s] heart feels like it stops- like the string Chan has just attached to him using these rings is constricting his vital organs ability to keep him alive, the only way for it to start beating is to loosen the string- to lesser the distance because he would never dream of taking off the ring.

So [Name] steps forward, holding Chan tightly against his chest, ignoring the younger's yelp of surprise. He doesn't care about the glare of his father and eldest younger sister, about the teary looks of his younger siblings nor his mothers worried mumbling. Right now as his nose is buried in Chan's hair, inhaling his comfort scent, memorizing it because he knows it will be a very long time before he gets to it again. It's only him and Chan at this moment, he's holding Chan, almost desperate for the younger to realize his yearning.

It's silent for a good minute, before Chan breaks the hug, the unshed tears of prior had now fallen, coating his cheeks lightly, but it's not melancholy in any way. His gaze seems to hold hope of the future- hope [Name] believes to be falsely placed.

—-------------

“- so listen Channie I'm sorry it's just so much was going on, and we both had just started college we were so busy and my father started breathing down my neck- you just-you seemed so happy without me and Rachel decided to drop out which had me-” [Names] rambling as he sits on his knees in between Chans legs are brought to a halt as the man in the couch grabs his face, hands covering the elders cheeks. Chan's touch isn't rough by any means, but there's slight possessiveness in the way he pulls [Name] forward. And before [Name] can comprehend what's happening, he finds his lips interlocked with Chan's and it's the most euphoric feeling he's ever felt.

He feels high, like he's drifting on a cloud, and the warmth of Chan's tear salted lips against his own makes him want more- makes him need more. His own hands fly up to cup Chan's face in reciprocation, the cold steel of his ring contrasting Chan's heated cheeks. [Names] touch is different from Chan's - it's filled with passion and longing- obsessive admiration and a need for more as he tries to press their faces impossibly closer to one another.

He knows they'll need to break apart soon, and his lips already grieve the loss of Chan’s. He stands up slowly, finger gently tracing Chan’s jaw as the male on the couch tilts his head to follow the elders movements, their lips still intertwined. [Name] sweeps his tongue over Chan's bottom lip before breaking the kiss completely, standing up to his full height as he groans while Chan breathes heavily. “what-” [Name] looks down at Chan's flushed face, “do you know how long I've been wanting to do that? I-” Chan takes a moment to steady his breathing before he continues “I can't even imagine what you've been through and fuck even after hearing that I don't know if I believe it but- Ive wanted to kiss you like that ever since I was 14”

[Name] looks down at him shocked, not understanding “since you were 14? that-” his furrowed brows make Chan groan in annoyance “fuck how can such a smart oerson be so stupid” he wispers to himself “I like you Bub, fuck I love you- I'm inlove with you. I have been since before I even found out you were my soulmate. I mean how could I not love you?” Chan asks, almost rhetorical.

[Name] takes a moment to understand Chan's words as he sits down beside the younger male. His heart bursts and his stomach feels warm, despite the danger of it all- he can't go back now, not knowing this… bubut a question still lingers in his mind. “How…. How could you love me though? I haven't had any use to you- to my family I'm about as useful as a star in the daytime and you deserve SO much more than that Channie. So much more than what I can offer-” [Names] spiral is cut off by Chan grabbing his hands. “The sun is a star” he states.

[Name] looks at him, a strange mixture of emotions in his eyes. “I've told you you were my sun before, the sun is a star Bub. The sun gives us light, it gives us life. So sure, you're as valuable as a star in the daytime- you're as valuable as the sun. My sun. No matter what your father or siblings say can change that.” Chan's eyes are filled with sincerity, his words speaking truths [Name] knew but refused to acknowledge.

"God Im so inlove with you" [Name] breathes out, "Say it again" Chan says with a bashfulsmile, "Im inlo-" "No, no say it in your real voice-you don't have to hide anymore" [Name] smiles, "Im inlove with you" his deep voice reaches Chans ears and it makes the younger giggle, his cute reaction causing [Name] to grab him and drag him on his lap. Chan yelps but continues laughing all the same, feeling at home in [Name’s] arms.

They sit like this for a while, in the silence only basking in each others touch, "are you not mad at me?" [Name] asks softly, Chan takes a moment to think before responding "I was, but- I get ut now. Why you thought you had to do it. While I don't agree wuth how you handled it, I do understand that I wasn't the one in the situation itself... Im not mad at you, I don't think I ever could be" he suplies.

[Name] nods, "So? what do we do now?" he asks, "well that depends... are we together?" Chan's voice is hesitant, "I would hope so- I don't just go around telling everyone and anyone im inlove with them" Chan slaps [Names] chest playfully at the elders response. "So do you... do you want to come clean? about everything- to your sibling I mean" Chan looks at his loved who seems fearfull at the notion, "I don't...." Chan nods his head in understanding as [Name] can't formulate a sentence. "You don't have to have an answer now... it's just I think felix is suspecting something already, and they deserve to know"

[Name] nods, "yeah... I don’t know Ill think about it in the morning... right now I only wanne think about you, celebrate that I'm finally your's as you are mine" [Name] smiles as he kisses Chans hand.

The sun is still a star, no matter the time of day. And [Name] is still Chan’s, no matter whatever forces wish to get in their way

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[auspicioustidings]

Military Operation

Summary: Soap finds out Ghost has never celebrated Valentine's Day before and it all goes a little tits up. This is part of @bunnyreaper's Valentine's Day exchange and is for @juvenillia <3 (I signed up for this before I went into an absolute depressive fugue state so I can only apologise that it is not my best writing)

Words: 3k

“I’m naw fucking around, this needs tae be efficient and ruthless. Get in, get out, dinnae take any chances.”

“Yes sir.”

You try to hold in a laugh, eyes watering as Gaz catches your eye and is finding it equally as hilarious to have the Captain refer to Soap as sir. It’s ridiculous and Price knows it, but with how worked up Soap is he’s clearly feeling indulgent. Only all mirth dies and leaves your throat tight when Soap sets his eyes on you, looking wounded.

You had not realised until right this moment how much this meant to him. It seemed silly to you that he was treating Valentine’s Day as a military operation after Ghost let slip that he had never celebrated it, but it definitely wasn’t silly to Soap. Ah shit. Now you felt dreadful. 

“Ok Sergeant, what can we do?”

He softened a bit at your sincerity and as he went over all of his planning you couldn’t help but feel the dread bubble up. You had been on this team for long enough now to know when John MacTavish was spiralling, and right now he was spiralling. It had been a while since his last episode when Gaz had gotten shot on mission and he had spent the next month completely burning himself out in his desperation to look after him. It was how he was, once he cared about you, he would completely self-destruct if it meant he could be of some service to you. It had been Ghost who brought him back that time and honestly you had not a fucking clue how.

You were paired up with Price to get the pool ready as per Soap’s instructions while he handled the rec room decorations and Gaz was sent to deal with food. It was pretty overboard as far as a Valentine’s Day went. Soap’s plan was to give Ghost a card telling him to go to the rec room after a romantic breakfast where there would be a note to lead him to the next location. It would be sweet if poor Soap wasn’t liable to give himself a stress induced heart attack before the end of the day.

“Captain…”

“I know kid” Price sighed with a press of his lips to your cheek. “If we can just get through today then we'll see what can be done. If we try stop him it’ll make him worse.”

You knew he was right even if you didn’t like it. Honestly the relationship the 5 of you had was tenuous at best. You were a unit, you worked well together in the field. You couldn’t really pinpoint when you had become something more than that. It happened slowly. It wasn’t some big confession or conversation, it was affectionate touches turning to something more between all of you. You thought that was perfect, but you wondered sometimes if for someone like Soap who was a romantic at heart and never could hide his feelings, the lack of definition as to what this all was stung.

“None of that corporal. If I have to be up sneaking around at 2am on Valentine’s Day putting bloody rose petals in a swimming pool then at the very least I’m going to take what enjoyment I can from it.”

“Is there any enjoyment you can get from this?”

“Hmm, battle plans are your specialisation.”

“That right?”

“Better come up with a plan for us to somehow take some enjoyment from being here all alone at this time.”

“That an order Captain?”

“Only because I know how much you like taking orders from me.”

You had to give it to Price, he had a way of taking your mind off things and then making you completely lose it. Slowly. Decadently. Several delicious times in a row. 

–

You sleepily speared one of your pancakes and plopped it on Gaz’s plate who just as sleepily nuzzled a thank you into your hair before tucking in. Soap was sharp eyed given that none of you had bloody slept trying to make everything absolutely perfect for his plans. His leg was bouncing under the table as Price and Ghost joined you all at the table. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day!” he blurted out.

Ghost only responded with a slight nod of acknowledgment before Soap put the envelope on the table causing a tilt of Ghost’s head in question.

“Open it LT!”

You would really like to be invested in this, but as with Gaz beside you the two of you were more concerned about how Soap would cope with today. Honestly this could all go completely off without a hitch and he’d probably still be a mess at the end of the day thinking he had fucked everything up. Only it did not go off without a hitch as Ghost started to speak whilst opening the card that would kick off a day of in your face Valentine’s Day fun.

“S’not that I don’t appreciate it Johnny. February 14th is an anniversary.”

Oh no. 

“Not really up for big celebrations the way you lot probably are. Seems wrong to on the day they were murdered.”

Oh no. It was too late. He was reading it. He was reading the card telling him to go to the rec room after he had eaten breakfast. The rec room that was smothered in fucking heart balloons and bunting and flowers. Gaz choked down his pancakes at breakneck speed.

“Totally understandable. Don’t worry about it, we really only had low key stuff planned but maybe it’d be nice to get off base instead” you said with what you hoped was a very believable smile.

“Oh! Aye! A wee off base trip would be good!”

“Hey” Ghost said, his big hand going to rest on top of Soap’s still bouncing leg to stop it. “Stop flapping Johnny. Low key is fine, just let me get breakfast and I’ll come to the rec room.”

Maybe God would be merciful and a nuclear war would start before he got the chance and save you all from being revealed as the most callous assholes in the world who were shoving love in Simon Riley’s face on the anniversary his family were fucking murdered. But since you couldn’t rely on that, you, Gaz and Soap were up and snatching your plates off the table in record time. 

“Sounds good! You and Cap take your time, it’s really nothing big so no rush!” Gaz said with forced brightness and a mega watt smile to Price that in no uncertain terms said ‘please keep him here for as long as possible while we try to do damage control’.

“Aye, dinnae rush! Enjoy yer pancakes!” Soap added, choking on the last word as his eyes bulged out of his head. 

Fuck. The pancakes. The fucking stupid heart pancakes that were sitting ready on the counter for Ghost to take. Only when he stood to go grab his plate, Gaz beat him to it and grabbed the full stack in his hand before shoving them into his mouth. Everyone froze in total shock as Soap sprung into action to help push the rest of the mess into Gaz’s face as he struggled to breathe while trying to swallow. 

“Ah ha, totally forgot Gaz is carb loading! For that marathon thing. Yeah he’s totally carb loading right now, just eating all the carbs in sight.”

Gaz tried to back you up on that around a mouthful of stupid fucking pancakes only resulting in him nearly choking on powdered sugar and syrup while Soap started to frantically steer him out of the room. None of you noticed Price sneaking a photo of the whole scene.

“Aye, carb loading! Cannae help himself! Bonnie can make ye pancakes, they’re the best at them since they always take their time cooking. And then ye can all meet us.”

“Yes! I can do that. Totally. I can make pancakes. Slow cooked pancakes since Gaz ate your portion. Because he is carb loading.”

Soap pressed a frantic parting kiss to your forehead, leaving one on Ghost’s mask and the last on Price’s lips before carting Gaz out of there still coughing and sputtering and covered with syrup. Yeah, totally chill and normal behaviour. If you were anything but in a blind panic maybe it would have been suspicious that Ghost didn’t ask questions, only taking your hips to pull your back against his chest and scrape his teeth against your throat. 

“Better get to making those pancakes before the Lieutenant skips right to dessert luv.”

–

“Jesus what are these made of fucking kevlar?” Gaz hissed, trying to pop one of the heart balloons with his teeth because his panicked fingers couldn’t get the bloody thing untied.

On an empty bloody base and neither of them had so much as a fucking pin for popping balloons after sprinting from the mess to try and get rid of the evidence of a very ill conceived attempt at romance. Eventually he took his teeth to the knot and got the stupid thing undone only to get a mouth full of helium while Soap frantically stuffed bunting behind the sofa.

“This is a pure shitemare.”

“I’m sorry, a shitemare?”

There was a pause before the two of them burst into wild laughter. Gaz from the word shitemare, Soap from Gaz saying the word shitemare with his voice high from the helium. Fuck it felt good. It felt like a release after the last 20 minutes of absolute blind fear driving them to try and sort this fuck up out. 

Honestly Gaz hadn’t seen Soap laugh since Ghost had said about never having celebrated Valentine’s Day a week ago and he missed it. He missed the way his boy’s eyes crinkled and how he carded his hands through his hair and messed it up while trying to catch his breath. He missed how everything felt alright when John MacTavish smiled at him.

He really couldn’t help going and kissing him when he collapsed in an exhausted heap on the sofa after they had both laughed themselves silly and finished brutally murdering the rest of the balloons and squirrelling away the bunting. Soap had been his first kiss in the team and even now he liked kissing him most. You always teased him about it, knowing it didn’t take away from what you two had. After all, you would readily agree that Soap was the best kisser. 

They still had to get rid of the flowers, but maybe staying here a little longer wouldn’t hurt.

–

“Leave them be sweetheart, they’re cute.”

You were at least relieved that the majority of the decorations seemed to have vanished even if there were still a few vases of flowers around the place, although the bigger relief was seeing your Sergeants tangled up snoozing on the sofa. When was the last time Soap had properly rested? It felt like he hadn’t at all this week. And Ghost was right, they certainly were cute like that. Price took a bunch of photos to prove it. 

You felt thoroughly exhausted as well as you fell onto the other sofa, Ghost following and tucking you into his side. 

“Did nobody sleep last night?”

You stuttered trying to come up with an excuse as to why you were all so tired.

“Could have at least invited me if there was an orgy happening.”

That turned you into a complete flustering mess which only made him and Price laugh.

“Come on sweetheart, get some rest in.”

Well since they had gotten rid of the note in this room about going to the pool next the whole crisis had been averted. And you always loved cuddling with Ghost. A nap couldn’t hurt.

–

“I like the flowers.”

Soap and Gaz shared a relieved look. They had meant to get rid of them but had passed out, only waking up a few hours later to find Ghost on the other sofa scrolling through his phone with you gently snoring tucked into his side. It was a really nice scene to wake up to actually. You weren’t tiny, but Ghost was huge enough to make you look that way. There was something that just made Soap’s chest warm seeing two people he knew went through hell out on the field both relaxed and gentle and happy. His quiet musing was interrupted by Gaz’s soft snort.

“You look broody as hell.”

“Want me to fuck a baby into you Gaz?”

“Not until you put a ring on it, no child of mine will be born in sin!”

Ghost’s laugh woke you but you were cosy right where you were and just listened to the three of them banter away.

“Having Johnny involved makes it a sin baby regardless of who he puts it in.”

“LT! I cannae believe ye’d say such a thing tae me! I’m a good Catholic boy!”

“Hmm, Catholicism does famously love a man sleeping with his entire unit” you quipped, earning a blown raspberry from Soap.

“Ye think my friend JC wasn’t balls deep in Judas and Mary at the very least?”

“Plus we bunk next to one another and they really make a whole big thing about loving thy neighbour so if anything we are simply following the good word.”

“See now Gaz gets it, that’s why he’s the one tae carry my child!”

“Congratulations on the pregnancy?” said Price in amusement as he came into the rec room, only catching the last line of the conversation.

“Thanks Cap” Gaz answered solemnly with a hand to his belly while you just rolled your eyes and smiled at how stupid these idiots were. 

“Can’t wait for the baby shower. Thanks for the flowers, think I’m going to go a swim before lunch.”

It was a miracle Ghost did not feel how you tensed next to him (he did). The pool was still positively smothered in rose petals. Gaz and Soap must have realised at the same time you did, both of them leaping to their feet. Fuck.

“I’ll join you, but let’s swing by my office first.”

You wanted to kiss the Captain for his fast thinking. You just had to get to the pool and fish out the petals while Price kept Ghost busy and it would be absolutely fine.

–

“Where the fuck is it?!” 

You could not believe this. The pool net was missing, the thing you needed to scoop out these stupid petals. The three of you had torn the place apart looking for it but it had yet to materialise. You felt like you were about to burst a blood vessel when Soap started laughing.

“I’m sorry, is something about this funny to you?” you hissed at him.

“Aye, ye look like a feisty wee cat when ye get all angry like that” he laughed.

God Soap loved seeing you angry. Not the angry you got on the battlefield, all blood and violence and vengeance. The angry you got just for them, when you were just normal people having a disaster of a Valentine’s Day and you went a shade darker with your eyes wild, arms crossed and foot tapping a grumpy little rhythm. 

Gaz loved it too, but for different reasons. He knew when you got like this that either Soap or Ghost would start winding you up and it was always entertaining to watch the carnage that came of it. It had only been a week and he had already forgotten how much he liked seeing the two of you like this, having fun.

“Come on, Captain can’t distract him forever.”

Soap’s eye slid to Gaz, hearing the undercurrent of mischief just a beat too late as he was tackled into the pool with a yelp. You really had not seen that coming at all and as Soap broke the surface and shook out his hair you winched at how he switched from the brat you knew and loved to looking genuinely upset. You held a hand out to help him like an idiot only for him to drop his little facade and pull you in with a laugh.

“You fucking dick! I’m going to kill you!”

“At least start gathering petals while you do!” Gaz laughed as you went for Soap.

Only all that did was have you and Soap looking at one another and then to Gaz. He was the one who had started it. And he was going to fucking get it. 

–

Price could not help but laugh at his team. Bunch of kids really. 

“Pretty diabolical stealing the pool net old man.”

“Pretty sick lying about the date your family was brutally murdered.”

Ghost grinned under his mask with a shrug. Tommy would absolutely have done the same, and he could almost hear Beth’s outraged laugh about it. It’s not like he didn’t know what was going on, he had been happy to watch you getting your back blown out that morning at the pool by Price, but he could also see Johnny was going to that place that made him hurt himself. He needed to get out of his head, and nothing got him out of his head like you and Gaz.

“You going to join them?”

Ghost pushed off his mask and Price ruffled his hair, stealing a kiss.

“Well it is Valentine’s Day, so I suppose we’d better spend it with our better fifths no?” Simon replied, going to dive into the pool and join the chaos with his Captain close behind after getting a few more photos.

He’d show them to everyone later that evening since he had been taking them all day. Gaz sleepily nuzzling you in thanks at breakfast. Soap shoving pancakes into Gaz’s mouth. Ghost trying to distract you from making him pancakes. His napping Sergeants and his snoring Corporal. And his brilliant team all crashing through petal filled water laughing and having fun. As far as Valentine’s Day went, he didn’t think it could have been anymore perfect.

[dewdrops-whammy-bar]

Tenth Drink Free- Chapter 2

Chapter 2/10- Star Taglist: @skele-bunny @rain-loves-scallops @dewphomet

{1}

Second chapter let’s fucking goooooo In this one I’m gonna delve more into Dew’s mind, his backstory, and his (frankly awful) mental health. Oh and he’s going to jork his peanits in the shower. Warning for mentions of/allusions to self-harm and self-destructive behavior.

“You seem excited.” Rain remarks, draping himself over the back of the couch with a smug grin. Dew looks up from his cereal to glare at him.

“What gave you that impression?” He asks.

“You’re up before 10, you don’t have anything on your calendar for today, and you’ve got the closing shift tonight. There must be something going on that you’re excited for.” Rain counts off on his fingers. “Ooooh, have you got a date?”

(Read the rest below or on AO3)

“Why do you care?” Dew grumbles. “Looking for gossip? Wondering if I’m still single?”

“Oh, I know you’re still single. I’m just checking in on you. As a friend.” Rain bats his stupidly long eyelashes at Dew. “What’s so important that it got you out of bed at the ungodly hour of 9:24 in the morning?”

Dew knew the reason, he’d spent most of his afternoon and evening the previous day agonizing over Big Sexy like a schoolkid with a crush. He’d analyzed every word of their short conversation and picked apart every glance, trying to glean whatever subtext he could from it. THEN he’d had a particularly exciting dream that woke him up at 6. After about 45 minutes of vigorously jerking it, he’d given it a rest after his third orgasm. At that point he was too awake to go back to sleep so he’d just busied himself with various little tasks until he got hungry enough to venture out.

“Fucked my sleep schedule.” He shrugs.

“At least you fucked something.” Rain remarks, turning back around and plopping himself back on the couch. “I’m getting ready for class.”

“Well good for you. Enjoy your boring-ass lecture, I’ll be here writing music and playing video games.” Dew sniffs.

“Enjoy that, I guess. Hope you like that coffee shop.” Rain snips back.

The words stung a bit, even though they’re nothing Dew hadn’t heard- or thought -before. He’d escaped his small town by bus on his eighteenth birthday with his guitar and just enough money to get by for a few months. By the grace of some god, Rain was looking for a roommate in the area he ended up in.

He’d managed to get a job at Cloudy Skies by borderline begging Cumulus to hire him at his interview. It wasn’t entirely manipulation, he’d had a long day and had been rejected from five jobs in the past week. It was nearing the end of the month and his portion of rent was due soon and he was afraid he’d be forced to sell his beloved guitar. He couldn’t help breaking down when Cumulus asked about his lack of past employment. He still felt guilty for it, even though it was six years ago.

He doesn’t realize how deafening his silence was until Rain’s head pops up from behind the back of the couch again.

“I’m sorry.” The other man says softly. “I didn’t mean-“

“You’re fine.” Dew reassures him. “It’s… well, you know. A bit sore.”

“That’s fair. Sorry for bringing it up.” Rain sighs sheepishly. Dew just nods and returns his attention to his cereal.

He’d like to go to college, get a degree in music or music education, but he’s broke. His job pays enough to cover rent and groceries and medication but that doesn’t leave much left over to pay for any classes. Student loans aren’t much of an option for him either, he doesn’t have much credit and being in debt stresses him out severely. He’s scared he’ll be stuck working customer service his entire life, a starving artist overlooked by everyone.

The texture of soggy cereal in his mouth almost makes him gag. He gets up from the table and puts his bowl in the sink, heading back to his room.

The rest of the morning passes normally once Dew cheers himself up again. He even manages to snag the pedal he was after (granted, for a little more than what he’d limited himself to spend, but whatever). He then celebrates by parking himself on the living room couch with a family sized bag of Takis and a controller and dedicates the next few hours to Resident Evil.

Eventually Dew gets bored and wanders back to his room to get dressed for work. He finds himself actually caring about his outfit for once. He settles on celestial-patterned skinny jeans and a black and red button-up shirt. He’s even compelled to slap on some eyeliner.

He realizes halfway through the eyeliner application process that he might be doing this in case he sees Aether again. He groans, drops his makeup pencil on the desk, and leans back to stare at the ceiling. He was too old to be having a crush. He had more important things to worry about. He wasn’t in high school anymore, putting on his best “pastor’s daughter” act and fluttering his eyelashes at the football team captain. That guy turned out to be an asshole anyway.

“Come on.” Dew grumbles. “You are a grown ass man.” He knows the drill- be infatuated by someone for a few weeks, create an idea of what they’re like in his head, finally push down his self-loathing enough to talk to them, and be disappointed by how they actually are. It’s happened too many times to count. It’d only turned out positively once- with Rain. They’d fucked a few times but decided to stay as friends, much to Dew’s relief.

He picks up the pencil again and finishes his makeup. He almost doesn’t want to see Aether again. He’d just be disappointed and go home and sulk in bed and give Rain another reason to tease him.

But he has bills to pay and a six-stringed child to care for. So he hauls his ass to Cloudy Skies, clocks in, and parks himself behind the register. He just has to get through a 5-hour shift. He can do five hours, that’s like three runthroughs of his favorite playlist.

“Hi D-dew!” Aeon chirps with a wave. Dew gives them a nod and a brief smile as he passes them in the kitchen. Aeon’s the most recent hire, a bright-eyed (well, in only one eye, the other was blind) 20-year-old computer science student working part-time. Dew doesn’t like change so he wasn’t a fan of Aeon to begin with, but they’ve grown on him. They’re like him- a weird kid trying to carve out a safe place in a scary world. He’d taken them under his wing as soon as he’d gotten used to having another person in the shop. He’d almost torn Swiss a new asshole the only time he dared to mock their stutter.

Dew glances around to make sure Cirrus wasn’t around and pops in one of his shitty wireless earbuds. Some music would make his shift a tiny bit more bearable. The opening notes of Toxicity filter through the tinny speaker of the earbud and he sighs with relief.

The afternoon crowd of students begin to flood into the shop and he’s quickly busy making drinks and heating up pastries. Sunny joins him behind the counter to help, thankfully.

He’s so busy with work that he doesn’t notice Aether has entered until he’s staring at that glorious chest with- dear lord, his shirt is unbuttoned an absolutely slutty amount.

”Hey, what can I get fOr you?” Dew’s voice cracks and he inwardly cringes.

”Hi, can I have a, um-“ Aether looks down at his hand. Dew sees smudged purple ink creeping over the side of his palm. “Cold brew with hazelnut syrup? Large, please.”

The same thing as last time- Dew’s own recommendation. His heart flutters. Stop it.

He grabs a large cold cup and jots down the order- and Aether’s name- before punching it into the register. “Yep. Anything else?”

”That’s it, thank you.” Aether smiles and Dew notices his crooked teeth. Fucking adorable. Jesus, stop it. You’re on the clock. 

“That’s $5.06.” Dew manages to get out. He takes the cash Aether hands over, along with the punch card. The hole punch today is a star. The heart-shaped hole from last time taunts him.

”I’ll have that right out for you.” He tells Aether as he hands the card over and slides the cup into the queue waiting to be filled. He allows his eyes to linger for a second on Aether’s absolutely perfect ass as he leaves before he turns to serve the next customer.

Between taking orders and making drinks, Dew sneaks glances over at where Aether’s decided to sit. He’s pulled out a laptop covered in stickers and seems to be studying. He’s wearing glasses, much to Dew’s delight (followed by annoyance) and his brows are slightly furrowed. Goddamnit. Out of all the people to have a puppy crush on it had to be a customer. Fucking amazing, thank you brain.

When Dew ventures into the back to take his break, he’s cut off by a very smug-looking Swiss leaning against the counter.

”So.” The man starts. “Sunny told me you have a crush.”

”Well, she’d be wrong. I don’t have crushes.” Dew ducks under his arm and makes a beeline for the back door. How did she know already? What the actual fuck?

”If you say so.” Swiss shrugs. Dew slams the back door before he can continue.

He eyes the brick wall, wondering if it’s worth it to punch. He’s gotta get his annoyance out somehow before he snaps at someone. He settles for kicking it instead. It only relieves his tension a little bit.

Dew digs his pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and sparks one up. The acrid smell calms him despite burning his nostrils. He hates the taste and smell of cigarettes but at least it’s something he can rely on to calm him. Vaping just doesn’t bring the same satisfaction- he’s tried. He knows he’s gotta quit but he’d just turn to other bad habits to replace it. He’s convinced himself it’s a form of harm reduction.

Dew grinds his teeth together. He’s thinking about his emotions again. He can’t afford to sink into self-pity again. He needs to pull himself together before he starts crying. He hasn’t cried in years and he’s not about to start now. Especially not at work.

His cig is only half-finished but he stubs it out anyway and heads back inside. A glass of water and a mint rinse the taste out of his mouth and he takes his place at the big industrial sink in the kitchen for dish duty. He’s glad he doesn’t have to interact with customers for the rest of his shift. As much as he’d like to ogle Aether, it’s probably best if he takes his mind off him.

He scrubs pans and mugs and plates and utensils and baking tools until his forearms burn and turns up his music. He estimates his playlist has cycled through about two and a half times by the time Sunny taps him out at the sink.

“Stop spreading gossip about me.” He tells her, a bit harsher than he intended it to be. “Swiss is gonna be on my case for months, you know how he is.”

“Maybe you should get off your ass and ask him out. It’s the big guy, button up shirt, nice piercings, right?” Sunny grins at him and flutters her eyelashes. “He’s hot. Might have to make a move if you don’t.”

Dew sighs. “I don’t have a crush. Yeah, he’s hot, but I’ve got no desire to date him,” He hisses under his breath. The little lovesick voice in his head wails at the thought of Aether going out with someone else.

“Sounds like someone who’s got a crush…” She whispers back and winks at him. “Cir wants you to clear the pastry counter, by the way. Enjoy the view.”

Dew doesn’t dignify that last remark with an answer, only takes his earbuds out and walks over to Cirrus at the other end of the kitchen. She looks up from jotting notes on her clipboard and rubs her eyes.

“Hey Dew. Could you do me a favor and empty out the glass display?” She asks while stifling a yawn. “Sorry. Long day.”

“Understandable. I’ll get right on that.” Dew gives her a two-finger salute, which she returns. His spirits lifted somewhat at the prospect of first dibs on the leftover treats, he trots back out behind the counter.

Aeon sits at the stool behind the register, sneakily tapping away at their phone. Dew bumps them with his shoulder as he passes.

“Careful. Cirrus’ll give you an earful if she sees you on your phone,” he mutters. “I swear, she acts like an overbearing mother sometimes.”

“I know. I w-would have put it away if I’d-d heard her footst-steps.” Aeon shoots him a conspiratorial grin. Dew blinks.

“You’ve memorized her footsteps?” He asks, somewhat amazed. “In three weeks of being here?”

Aeon shrugs. “I’m good at-t patterns.” They turn back down to their phone and resume tapping. Dew sneaks a peek at their screen and sees they’re filling out a Sudoku puzzle with frightening speed. He shrugs and lets them be.

The pastry display is picked clean, only a few crescent rolls and a lone muffin remain. Dew picks them out with tongs and places them on a plate. On habit he glances over to the corner where Aether sat- and still sits, to his surprise. He seems to be taking a break from studying, instead leaning back in his chair and reading a book.

Dew opens the warmer on the countertop and slides the muffin inside. He adds one of the crescent rolls after some consideration and shuts the machine. The few minutes it takes to warm up the pastries are spent wiping down counters and collecting tools to be washed.

He returns from the kitchen and slides the baked goods from the warmer onto a plate. He hesitates, takes a deep breath, and walks out into the seating area.

Aether looks up as he approaches, pushing his glasses up to his forehead with a tired smile.

“We’re closing in around twenty minutes.” Dew lowers his voice a bit, glancing at the few other people in the shop. “Thought you might want some leftover snacks. Don’t tell anyone.” He smiles and sets the plate next to Aether’s laptop.

“Oh, awesome. I was just wondering what I was gonna have for dinner.” The man smiles with those adorable crooked teeth. “Thanks for the heads up. And the food.”

“‘Course.” Dew smiles back, stomach doing flips. He sneaks a peek at Aether’s book- it’s a well-worn paperback with… two shirtless men on the cover. Well, that answered the question on whether he liked men or not. Dew actually had a chance.

He walks away to notify the other stragglers and wipe down tables. Aether only leaves five minutes before closing, waving at Dew as he did. Goddamnit he’s cute.

Dew has another cigarette on his way home to try to clear his head. He knows Rain hates the smell of smoke but he’ll shower as soon as he gets home.

The front door squeals as Dew enters the apartment, making him wince. He kicks his boots off, drops his bag, and makes his way to his room. Rain’s door is closed so he’s either gaming or jerking off. Dew fights the urge to just collapse on his bed. He knows he’ll never get up that way, and he’d rather not have aching ribs tomorrow from over-binding.

So he grabs his sleeping shirt and fresh underwear and drags himself to the bathroom. He’s out of makeup remover so he just rubs his eyes with a damp cotton pad until his eyeliner is gone. It leaves the skin raw and he winces.

The hot shower water soothes him. He closes his eyes as he massages shampoo into his hair and allows his mind to drift. It immediately goes to Big Sexy. He’s too tired to resist it- fantasizing would probably get the silly crush out of his system faster anyway.

He imagines Aether’s hands in his hair, combing through it gently as they kiss. How warm his lips would be, the scratch of his beard scruff against his neck, his large hands holding Dew’s waist, squeezing his chest, pushing his thighs open-

“Haaaaah…” Dew leans against the shower wall and tips his head back to avoid the spray. His hands explore his body- not as big as Aether’s, but he can pretend. His hand finally dips between his legs to find himself already slick and ready.

He pushes his middle and ring fingers into his cunt with a gasp. “Aether…” He pumps them in and out, imagining the bigger man’s fingers instead. The fingers of his other hand pet over his clit as he imagines Aether’s tongue in their place. Dark blue eyes look up at him through long brown eyelashes, fingers curling right up into that perfect spot, a low chuckle as Dew whines.

He imagines Aether pulling back and he whines again. “Noooooo…” Fantasy-Aether just grins, uses those big hands to flip him onto his stomach, and eases his cock into him. Dew adds two more fingers, moaning at the stretch. “Aeth- oh my god-“

Fantasy-Aether fucks him hard and deep, groaning unspeakably sexy things in Dew’s ear. Dew cums hard, thighs shaking as he clenches and flutters around his fingers. He sinks to his knees and braces his hand on the side of the bathtub as he rides out his orgasm.

“Fuck…” Dew mumbles as he washes off his hands in the now- lukewarm water. He’s embarrassed now- he just jerked off to a customer. He hasn’t technically done anything wrong, he’s free to crank it to whatever his dick desires, but he’s pretty sure he won’t be able to look Aether in the eyes for a good week. Incredibly awkward.

He gets out of the shower, dries off, and changes into pajamas. ‘Pajamas’ is pushing it though, it’s one of those T-shirts with three wolves superimposed over a full moon and forest that’s four sizes too big and boxers.

Dew returns to his room, hair still wrapped up in a towel, and collapses into bed. He’s tired from having emotions all the time. It makes him have to think about his life and if he does that too much he starts to spiral. A therapist would probably tell him to start thinking about his emotions and to stop smoking, but he doesn’t have a therapist. He’s fine as is, as long as he takes his meds. He pays too much for them anyway, he’s not gonna shell out another hundred a week for someone with a degree to tell him to breathe.

There he goes, spiraling again. Dew punches his pillow in frustration. As he rolls onto his back his eyes fall on the notebook on the floor next to his guitar.

He hasn’t journaled in years. The idea makes him want to laugh but… if he can get his thoughts out of his head and onto paper maybe they’ll leave him the fuck alone.

Dew drags himself out of bed and settles on the floor with the notebook. He chews on the cap of the pen tucked into the wire spine and hesitantly touches the tip of the pen to the page.

The next thing he knows he’s filled three pages, front and back. His handwriting is messier than usual- almost illegible- and he can barely remember what he wrote. Probably for the best.

Tearing the pages out of the notebook, Dew crumples them up and reels his arm back to toss them into his garbage can. He hesitates.

Instead, he opens one of his dresser drawers and shoves the wadded paper way into the back. It finds a home among his holey socks and empty deodorant sticks (he really should throw those out). He shoves the drawer closed a little harder than he really needs to. It feels good.

He takes his hair out of the towel and tosses it across the room. He’s too tired to put it into its usual braid, he doesn’t care if it’s frizzy tomorrow. Finally, Dew crawls under the covers with his hair still damp and goes to sleep.

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[writememysticfalls]

7 Minutes in Heaven | Damon Salvatore

Summary: You're stuck in the prison world with Damon Salvatore, college hottie and your worst enemy. You find yourself in a steamy situation with him...

Pairing: Damon Salvatore x witch!reader

Genre: Enemies to lovers AU, Badboy!Damon, Witch!Y/n, Set in S6 in the prison world

Word Count: <1k

You walked in to the Salvatore living room to find Damon breaking off pieces of the coffee table and throwing them at the wall to create tiny explosions.

“Great” he said without turning. “It's the fun police. Look, it'll all be fixed by tomorrow. Groundhog-Yay, am I right?”

You had been trapped in this other world, forced to repeatedly relive the same day, for over three months. It didn't matter what you did, as the world was reset every day.

Damon threw another piece of wood, and it burst into flame in the air.

“Witchy?” Damon said, spinning around.

You smiled. “If you're going to self-destruct, at least do it properly.”

You flung, burned and destroyed until most of the living room was a smoking mess. Sitting in the centre of it, Damon knocked back a bottle of bourbon.

“Gimme,” you said, sitting down next to him.

“Woah,” Damon said. “This place has officially broken you.”

“Ha-ha,” you said, grabbing the bottle. You gulped down some bourbon, then coughed, pressing your hand over your mouth. “Why do you drink this stuff?” you croaked.

“You're doing it all wrong,” Damon said, taking a gulp and holding it in his mouth. “Leave it on your tongue,” he swallowed, “then feel the burn in your throat.”

You followed his instructions, then sighed with joy. “I see. My chest feels so warm I almost forget that my heart is a cold, empty pit of sadness.”

“A-ha,” Damon said. “You've finally got bourbon.” He threw the empty bottle, shattering it. “I… told Elena I never wanted to see her or hear her voice again. I crushed her. And now… I’m dead. And that's how she'll remember me.”

You nodded. “You wanna talk crappy goodbyes? The last thing that I said to my boyfriend before getting stuck here was that he was a jerk."

You both laughed, so hard that you started hiccupping.

“You're such a nerd,” Damon said. “Honestly, what did your boyfriend see in you? I've seen the guy, he's jacked. He has options.”

“Um, Elena could've had Stefan. Why the hell did she pick you?” you said.

You rested your head on Damon’s shoulder. It felt so good that you snuggled into his chest. Slowly, Damon let a hand stroke your hair and then rested it on your shoulder. It was the first time you had touched since you had arrived here. Neither of you spoke for a while, just enjoying this moment of frozen time.

You felt Damon’s eyes on you, and slowly looked up at him. He had that rare wide-eyed expression on that made him look almost gentle.

“You might be an uptight - witch, but you're a decent drinking buddy,” Damon murmured.

“You might be a self-absorbed, murderous jerk… but you're not so bad yourself,” you replied.

Damon leaned into you, his face open and questioning. You let your eyes slip shut. Briefly, your lips met. Damon was clearly a good kisser. His lips were soft and sweet, surprisingly gentle. You wondered if Damon had kissed Elena and Caroline the same way - and you quickly pulled away.

“Nope,” you said, jumping to your feet. “Nope, nope, nope.”

Damon shuddered. “The phrase - ‘not even if we were the last people on earth’ springs to mind.”

You crossed your arms, gazing into the fireplace. “Mention this to no one?”

“No one,” Damon agreed.

​—

MAIN MASTERLIST

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[grapejuicestyless]

So Long, London

Harry Styles x fem!reader

Summery: Years and years of love and affection couldn’t amount to the floods of tears that flooded the once prosperous city you danced through.

From a young age I’ve always wondered what death feels like. Those who have experienced it aren’t here to tell us their stories. Would it hurt, could I feel it clenching my heart in its dark grasp or would I sigh in my sleep and let the darkness take me with no sense of slipping away.

As I walk down the old roads I used to dance on, I understand the concept of it better now that my heals hit the concrete like bullet shells falling to the floor. The vibrant red brick seemed duller nowadays, moss covering the once new white concrete holding all these places I often visited together.

To me, death wasn’t the last breath of air in my lungs escaping, it wasn’t the melodic beeping of the machines beside me in a hospital room, but something that drowned me from the inside out.

His smell is stuck to all my clothes, his smile carved into the back of my phone case from the polaroids of us I kept for keepsakes for years. I can still hear his voice, it’s all around me in the people passing by on the street, the same accent fresh in my mind, his last words knives in my heart.

He swore that he loved me, but where were the clues? I died at the alter waiting for the proof. His green eyes flashing with mischief as he lied to my heart to keep me close, his bluest days tainting my mind, my endless sympathy forcing me to stay even with the gun stuck against the back of my head.

I don’t remember the end, only the feeling of my spine splitting under the weight of his body as I pulled him in closer each time he slipped out of reach. Only the fading of his smile as I gave up trying to make him laugh after so many failed attempts. The heart was dead, I stopped CPR after all, there was no use. Our love was long dead, lying buried with our faltering spirits. He killed me when he killed our relationship, two graves dug with one gun.

He swore that he loved me, and his face looked just like the man who said it to me and meant it, so I believed him as he led me down the street with his hands in his pockets.

For so long, I loved london. My clothes out of place, made for the states and carried across to my home where he laid in the dimming light of our sunroom. For so long, I held him and guided his heart to mine, I let him take parts of me I’ll never be able to rebuild. And I’m angry that I gave him all that youth for free, but I’m just mad as hell because I loved this place.

And he claims I abandoned the ship, he writes it in the songs on his albums and sends the troops to my front door, breaking down the home I just rebuilt but they’ll never know how I was going down with it, my white knuckle dying grip holding onto his quiet resentment.

But truly how much sad did he think I had left in me to give? How much tragedy? Just how low did he believe I could before I would self-implode, waiting for his grays and blacks to turn back into the vibrancy I fell so deeply in love with.

And as I walk these streets, his scent fading from my clothes, I can feel the color coming back to my face, and I feel bad for anyone who stops me on the streets and asks me to grab a coffee, because the hole in my heart is black and it’s pulling in anything in it’s path, it’s destructive and dangerous and it acts a lot like him.

He’ll find someone, my stitches will come undone and my heart will die as I lay silently on the empty floor of the apartment I never thought I would see again.

I have to leave, I know it even in this post-death mist. I am a ghost walking down these once euphoric streets we walked hand in hand across. I can’t let myself rot like he did, I won’t let myself get left behind like he intended.

And I’m just mad as hell because I once loved this place.

But for now, it’s so long, london.