#and it was the greatest night of my life and I get so much joy seeing other people experience it and describe everything that I felt

[blossoms-phan]

this is so incredibly real like i am a dannie to my fucking core that man has entranced me since i was like 11 years old and i will never, EVER get over how how genuinely gorgeous he is in real life. I literally felt the breath get knocked out of me when they ran out for preshow like they’re just SO pretty but dan with his hair and freckles and earring and the way his smile is LITERALLY like staring directly into the sun and the way he moves his body and adjusts his pants and bendy man flirty energy arms out in the boxing outfit everything about sister daniel god I am obsessed with him

[mossangelll]

arcane characters as sugar mommies/daddies ˚₊‧꒰ა $ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

been thinking about mel as a sugar mommy and decided to spread the joy to other characters >:)

haven’t proofread but i was obsessed with the idea and needed to get my thoughts out, hope you enjoy ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

cw: don’t think gender is specified but i had a fem reader in mind so that might show, smut, degrading language used in a consensual manner, minors dni, 18+ only

Vi

the alluring one

you’re trying to buy a round of drinks when your card declines and just as you’re about to die from embarrassment, her warm hand settles on your shoulder as her scarred lip smirks down at you

she pays for multiple rounds of drinks and before you know it, you’re making out in the alleyway

the rest is history

you never thought you’d be in an arrangement like this but she had her ways of convincing you otherwise

has a bunch of different girls on her roster that she maybeeee doesn’t tell you about

don’t worry, you’re the only sugar baby she pays this much for

when you find out you can’t even be that mad about it - she’s so hot you’d let her get away with anything

you’re smart enough to be pouty around her and take advantage of the situation - get ready for the greatest apology of your life

she invites you to her place just for you to find thousands of roses in the foyer and a gift box with your name on the table

she has you follow a trail of clues until you end up in her bedroom, still juggling an armful of gifts, where vi is waiting for you with a hopeful look

she rushes over to take the boxes from you and smothers your face in feather light kisses before apologising for making you feel shitty

her apology doesn’t stop there though and carries on well into the night

you complain about your bus being late? she’s already sent an uber black to your location

you don’t know which gaming console you want? she’s got it covered - multiple packages with every console you mentioned are arriving by the next day

you’re at a party but you’re feeling needy? she’s already dragging you to a storage cupboard, crowd be damned, and eating you out with such fervour you think you might see heaven

pays for your gym membership at a place like equinox and makes sure you two take full advantage of the sauna - it might be warm in there, but you come out sweaty for a whole other reason

has a garage full of vintage motorbikes that cost a fortune and only she can touch

pays you your days salary (and then some) so you can take time off work just so you can visit her at her home gym

she uses you to show off her impressive strength by lifting you as if you weigh nothing in her arms

getting used as her personal gym equipment is a major turn on

lives to impress you with her physique, she gets so pleased with herself when she notices your eyes darken as they wander over her toned body

she definitely has mirror ceilings and she definitely makes you stare at yourself as she fucks you stupid underneath them

Jinx

the mischevious one

she’s the rich artsy kind and you’re her muse

this means she needs you around 24/7 in case creativity strikes her - naturally, this leads to her paying for your company

has you come over to the studio all the time

one time, she set down a canvas on the floor, told you to strip, covered you two in paint and fucked you right there and then

the rolling around, teeth bared, guttural moan, primal kind of fucking; she relished in the bruises that bloomed on your neck and chest as she sucked on your most sensitive spots

the resulting painting was quite impressive to look at, even if thinking about its creation made you more flustered than you’ve ever been

her hands aren’t only good for creating art pieces it seems

she’s one of the sugar mommy’s that pays you the most since she views your company as priceless when it comes to her work

you get anything you ask for, seriously

you’re decked head to toe and all of it is something jinx either gifted you or gave you the money to buy

if it’s something not available to buy, she buys luxurious materials that cost more than your salary just to craft it for you

takes you to the kind of stiff, fancy places she hates just to have you wear vibrating underwear which she has the controls for

sometimes it’s even the opening night of her art gallery

she makes it a challenge: how long can you go without drawing attention to yourself due to your moans - the longer, the more money you get

it’s downright obscene, the way she knowingly glances at you with subdued glee , your slight whimpers echoing as you try your best to muffle the sounds, tears welling up in your eyes

she goes back to chatting up art collectors and investors as she secretly turns up the power of the vibrations hitting you right to the core

she calls you her “sweet thing” when you get back to her penthouse and she makes it up to you by giving you her bank card

she likes to make you laugh during sex too, she doesn’t like if you try to make it too “dour”

Caitlyn

the inexperienced one

cait’s been single for a while and it’s obvious it’s taking its toll

her friends encourage her to go out and meet someone new but she’s too focused on work to waste time on someone she probably won’t like

one day she stumbles upon a sugar baby site and says fuck it

the first date is pretty awkward but after a couple drinks, you manage to loosen her up so she’s more free with you

she has no clue what her role in this kind of arrangement is so she goes all out from the get-go; she loves spending money on you to the point it’s a bit insane even if she tells you not to worry

has to ask her friends for advice on the group chat constantly (she has a history of fumbling attractive people and she’s not letting it happen again)

adds you to her country club membership so you two can play tennis on the weekends

this place is fancyyyyyy but she makes sure you feel comfortable

gets you a instructor if you don’t know how to play

this obviously means she buys you about ten different outfits with tennis bracelets to match each

buys you a penthouse in the best part of town, close to where she lives of course so she has easy access to you

you two christen every single room in your new place, no stone left unturned

scissoring in the large bedroom, head on the lavish kitchen countertops, taking turns fucking with the strap on the balcony with a breathtaking view, fingering in the living room - everything and anything you can think of

her job isn’t done until the two of you are exhausted and wailing loud enough that the neighbours 20 floors down are complaining

she is insatiable when it comes to you, it’s like you lit a fire within her that she can’t put out no matter how hard she tries

completely adores how cute you act when you try to deny her pricey gifts

even more so when she gifts you a first edition book and your demeanour turns more panicked by the second

really though, she’s freaking out more than you are although she doesn’t show it often

her biggest fear is gifting you something you hate which leads to you ending everything

you’ve never had a sugar mommy treat you like this

she gives her assistant special instructions to let you into her office at any time, a privilege only you’re blessed with

you manage to distract her and before she knows it, she’s forced to make herself look presentable in only five minutes despite having a smudge-proof lipstick mark on her cheek she can’t get off for the life of her

doesn’t want to admit that she wants more than a purely transactional relationship with you

Silco

the generous one

gives you an exorbitant amount of money every time you see him

like, a CRAZY amount

it barely registers for him though, he has more money than should be possible

he goes as far as to give you his black card even if you didn’t ask for it

goads you to max it out and somehow, despite spending so much, you’ve barely dented the thing which makes him laugh

he expects you to spend most of the money he gives you on luxuries you wouldn’t normal buy and asks you to do a haul and model it all for him in his office

behind the scenes, he’s busy paying off your any debts you might have, setting up a trust fund for you, looking for houses you would like

wants you to be set up for life

showers you in decadent lingerie that fits you perfectly from boutiques like la perla, agent provocateur and honey birdette - only the best for his girl

has to replace your lingerie quite often though, he goes feral when he sees you all dolled up just for him

even more so if you were good and listened to his demands, buying the exact lingerie he wanted to see you in

has you sign a detailed contract before the arrangement begins since he wants to make sure you’re comfortable with everything

also wants to make sure you follow his rules

wants you to only refer to him using “sir” when it’s just the two of you

i see him as the kind of sugar daddy that does expect some sugar in return

he’s very abrasive in bed, and calls you all types of degrading names which only serves to turn you both on further

has some…curious interests that he pays you more for indulging in - he is a gentleman after all

“my money hungry slut” and “little whore” are his favourites

takes you on shopping sprees for aftercare (and maybe he does cuddle too but you can’t let anyone else know that) - he doesn’t want you to think he views you a less than just because of the life path you’ve chosen

his idea of pillow talk is giving you tips on the stock market and trading

Sevika

the brusque one

she has commitment issues, is afraid of vulnerability and has a high sex drive

this has led her romantic relationships to fail in one way or another, which is where you come in

she sees it as a simple business transaction - nothing more, nothing less

she likes having you around but don’t get confused: she doesn’t want a real relationship with you

doesn’t sugar coat her words around you and while it might make anyone else run for the hills, you appreciate her honesty

having someone as gorgeous as you coo and hang onto her every word does inflate her ego

everyone wants you, eyes appraising you up and down, but they can’t have you - only she can

so punctual with her payments that it genuinely feels like any other regular job

she looks down on those so called sugar mommies that skimp out of paying a fair rate - you don’t need to worry with her, you’ll be getting more than you ever really needed

despite presenting a stoic image, she can’t help but give in to your every whim

all you have to do is glance at a display window with even a hint of longing and she’s immediately rolling her eyes, dragging you into the shop to buy it for you

if you get tired walking around and ask her to carry you she will huff and puff but that doesn’t stop her from scooping you up anyway

she has a strap on AND it’s the kind that ejaculates too

you two go to luxury toy makers and get straps custom made to tailor to both of your wants and desires

she perhaps gets attachments for her mechanical arm too…

she doesn’t skimp out on the good stuff when it comes to you

her hot grunts ring in your ears as she grinds into you, her body seemingly encompassing your entire body and mind

creampies you every time and fucks the cum back inside of your dripping hole just to watch it leak back out and repeat the cycle again until you’re begging out for her

you’re in a daze for a good ten minutes after and she can’t help but snort at the faces you make

maybe this isn’t just a simple transaction to her

Vander

the hesitant one

vander feels icky about the relationship he has with you at the start

he’s much older than you and you’re still in university, it makes him feel like such a bad person who’s preying on your vulnerability

you make sure to always remind him that he’s single-handedly paying for your tuition

you love what he does for you!

once he gets past that hurdle though, god have mercy on your soul, you will be ruined for other people

he basically acts as your mentor just with some extra benefits on the side

loves to hear you yap about any projects you’re working on and does his best to help with any issues at university

he’s the type to text you good morning and good night every single day without fail

even gives you a bigger allowance if you wake up early and reply to his good morning texts quickly

what? it’s an incentive to get you to attend your lectures

likes to be called daddy even if it does make him blush intensely

he gets off on the idea of being your protector and the only one to provide for you

cockwarms you when you’re working on assignments and it turns your brain to mush every time

spanks you when you stop paying attention

honestly it feels like he’s working against you whenever he does this

also gets jealous when you talk about dates you had with other people

he never made the relationship an official one, but that doesn’t stop him from fucking you hard, his hand prints left on your hips to mark his territory

definitely can’t walk the next day and he’s so smug

down BAD

Ambessa

the teasing one

ambessa has play things in every city; you name a place, odds are she’s got a hook up there

you’re no exception of course

in fact, you’re her favourite out of them all

whenever ambessa calls, you run to be at her service

L O A D E D

exposes you to experiences you never even knew existed, i’m talking about things only the upper 1% can do

she’s the kind of sugar mommy that likes to hear about your day over a glass of wine

the mundanity helps her calm down from her hectic life

she will hold the things she does for you over your head

it’s mean but she views it as her right considering all the luxuries she gives you access to

jokes she’s going to go to a perfumer and get the scent of your sex turned into a perfume

when you accept a surprise gift from her, it turns out it was not a joke - you should’ve known something was up the second her wicked smile made an appearance

actually doesn’t smell too bad

has you use it every single time you’re around her and only then

she’s a FREAK what can i say

whisks you off to couple spa days; you both deserve a little rest and relaxation every now and then

speaking of spa days, she often asks you to massage her which usually ends with your large hands pawing all over your body

she likes receiving more than giving but she still prioritises giving you plenty of orgasms through the night

what kind of sugar mommy would she be without ensuring you’re also satisfied with your arrangement?

you’re worn out from what she considers foreplay

still, you need to make sure you’re being as thoughtful as she is otherwise you’re getting kicked down the rungs of her sugar baby ladder

Mel

the cunning one

mel is the best sugar mommy around i know it

doesn’t do it often - she tries to limit herself to one sugar baby every once in a while

she sees them as worthwhile investments

if you want to be her sugar baby, you need to bring something useful to the table

she meets you at a science exhibition and is thoroughly impressed with your work

you need funding to complete your research and she needs relief from her stressful life as a counsellor

a win-win situation if you ask her

you don’t see her often, she’s too busy solving problems with the council, but when you do, she makes sure it’s worth your time

expensive dinner dates, surprise weekend get-aways, opera concerts - anything you ask for, it’s yours

not only is she funding all of your research, she takes you to galas where you can mingle with the elites you need to win over to achieve more exposure for your research

she usually sends boxes full of clothes and shoes to your house for you to wear to these outings, and picks you up fancy black car with a chauffeur and bottles of wine in coolers

she has her hand on your leg the entire journey there, a faint smirk on her lips when she notices how hot and bothered you are

in a relationship like this, she likes to be the dominant one in bed

she doesn’t expect anything sexual in return but if you’re willing she’s more than happy to fulfill those needs too

leans towards being sensual and romantic but that doesn’t mean she won’t make sure to fuck you thoroughly

heavy on foreplay to the point you think you’re going to pass out from the pent up energy in you

has lots of toys she likes to use on you, she’s very experimental and wants to test which one you respond to the most

also likes you to use the toys on her too and when she sees you suck her wetness off the toy you just used on her, she melts into a puddle

yeah, you’re getting an instant increase on your allowance and you’re getting a new custom wardrobe

Jayce

the proud one

jayce comes from a relatively well-off family, but his inventions launched him into stardom and left him with more money than he knew what to do with

he decides the best thing he can do is spread the love

he finds you on a site for this kind of stuff, something he would rather die than admit, and knew he had to get you on a date with him

makes you custom jewellery set with the most unique stones you’ve ever seen and loves when you wear them out on dates with him

you probably have the entire gdp of a small country just on your wrist alone

wants a play-by-play of all the things you bought that week, he’s lowkey into hearing how much of his money you spent on treating yourself

he wants you to buy even more things with his money than you already do which flusters you but you give in every time

he’s another one that wants a fashion show where you try on everything you bought

he just likes to sit and clap with a smile as you twirl for him

loves to show you off at all the balls and galas he’s invited to

takes you on late night drives in his alpine a110 r-turini and he always has one arm, big with straining muscles, around your headrest which never fails to make your heart flutter

oh i can see him being into role play

maybe he’s your boss and you’re the maid he just caught stealing from him lmao

he loves to get sloppy head from you and offers you all sorts of gifts in return

talking, or helplessly groaning in this situation, about all the ways you can drain his money is his form of dirty talk, “yeah, just like that babe. you want me to buy that new phone don’t you? well, take me like the good girl i know you are and work for it.”

he’s so whipped for you it borders on quite cute imo

Viktor

the cocky one

viktor came into new money after selling the patent for one of his inventions

he is well aware that he’s an attractive guy and could have pretty much anyone he wants, but his long work hours aren’t conducive to healthy relationships

so he takes it upon himself to get a sugar baby, no strings attached

has you stay with him in his lab to keep him company - he loves listening to your idle chatter about things he has no interest in

but when it’s you talking about them he’s captivated by every word

likes to call you his “cute lab assistant” and tries to hide how much he likes it when you call him your “handsome scientist”

he fails obviously

he explains extremely complicated topics in a very contrived way, even when he knows he can simplify it for the average person, because seeing the dumbfounded look on your face gets him going

closes down a whole shopping mall just so you can frolic about and shop to your hearts content; oh, don’t worry about all those bags, he has a guy to carry them all so you two can focus on having a nice date ^^

gonna be real, he’s the kind of guy to fuck you against the wall of the changing room, not caring that the bashful shop assistants can hear every single clap of skin slapping against each other and the strangled moans you both let out

buys all the clothes you tried on, you’re too fucked out to notice the looks you get from the workers, and the fact that the clothes might be a bit…dirty 😭

at least he tips them enough to make up for it

sprays his designer cologne on your gifts so you remember who you belong to

playfully suggests you give him a lap dance so he gets his money worth but you both know it was anything but a joke

good thing you love putting on a show for him!

this guy is such a troll, he literally throws money on you and slips bills in between the straps of your underwear as you sensually dance for him in the lingerie he paid for

has to control himself from pouncing on you then and there

he really enjoys the way you can both tease each other and not take things too seriously

masterlist

[rose-maidenn]

Pac : what are your hidden talents ?

Heyyy welcome to my reading , take a deep breath and choose a Pile with your intuition take what resonates only . If you liked it and would like book a reading dm me 🫶

Pile 1 :

Your powers are first of all all around you and it's visible to the people around you, however you are blinded to them , you need to pay close attention to what brings you joy and fulfillment , therein lies your true salvation, you have the power to create abundance and I know everyone has that but trust on me that what you have is so rare so special and also so subtle and you yourself are unaware of it ,but in everyday life try to create from what you have and soon you will see your power gleaming . Along with that you have the power to dance at the face of danger you're a calm person and nothing gets to you, if you haven't been that calm trust that with time universe will bless you with calmness that defeats enemies . Apart from that you might be potent in sexual sensual and glamour magic .

Pile 2 :

You have the power to wake up from anything , to let things literally go , a cycle breaker a true incarnation of getting up after a fall . Your energy is misunderstood because how could it be you know life requires necessary sacrifices and you do it , people however don't get it . Your discipline is one of your greatest gifts and your energy of being undefeated . You also maybe good at pranic and energy healing . Also honey always remember that your advise is very worthy and can help so many people so advise people only who deserve you and your energy.

Pile 3:

Your hidden talent is your dark feminine or masculine energy that believes people deserve what they do to others , it's the energy of righteousness and in a way proclaimed and beautiful. You hold the power to give people a taste of their own damn medicine and let them know that you're not one to be messed with you're the light of the night doesn't matter black or bright. You have a very strong crown chakra , you get messages very easily and your interpretation to them is very correct . Keep working on making it stronger. Your concentration powers are also freaking amazing when you desire something you work so hard for it it's like you get obsessed but you make things work . You're the very dedicated artist kind.

Pile 4 :

Your hidden talent is to have a balance between optimism and pessimism , people mostly fail to have that but you do you know when to feel your emotions and when to just let them go . You will be very famous if you can keep your emotions in control . You also have a very good throat chakra so speaking skills is something you should really work on you will be a master of it in no time . You should also know that best ideas come to people when they're spending time in leisure and as much as you stay grounded and give yourself the rest and leisure that you deserve , good ideas will automatically flow to you , you're a medium of divine gods , blessed be youu .

Thank you so much for reading ❤️

[austerity-audacity-asceticism]

The atomic habits of St. Therese of Lisieux

I used to be one of those people that were like “oh I love St. Joan of Arc, St. Thomas Aquinas, St. Paul, St. Teresa of Avila” because I thought they were Cool and Heroic and they did Big Things

And whenever someone would talk about “The Little Flower of Lisieux” I was like “mehhhhh… okay”

Not in a way that was totally disrespectful, but not totally aware of the enormity of her interior life

Because guys

Wow

You’d have to read The Story of the Soul to really appreciate just WHY she is a doctor of the Church

(She’s the Doctor of Divine Love, btw)

Because St. Therese? She was in the details

They like to say the devil is in the details, but let’s face it— God is in the details, and in his mercy and wisdom, he placed St. Therese there for us to learn from and imitate in our own ways

She had to reconcile her great desire to be a saint with the enormous legacies of the saints that came before her, especially Joan of Arc and St. Teresa of Avila

(She, along with St. Joan, are the patron saints of France. I’m sure that’s something St. Therese never dreamed of)

And she had the realization that God would not have given her a desire that she was incapable of, and that there must be a way for someone “as small as her” to become a great saint

Which lead her to meditate on Mathew 18:4 (Whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven)

And she was like “oh, okay. This desire planted into my heart is an invitation to become a little child, because the Lord wants to be the one to carry me to Heaven” 

(I am heavily paraphrasing so that you guys won’t be spoiled for Story of a Soul. Go read it!!!)

All of this is to say that her writings and her life reflect a simple but profound theology 

The Little Way is one of total dependence on the providence of God, of total surrender and self-mortification— the emptying of the cup of one’s self little by little, so that the Lord can fill it with his graces and abundance, and ultimately, with His own divine self 

The Little Way is one of the smallest acts of radical love, because the only person who needs to see it is God 

The Little Way is St. Therese going out of her way to nurse the nuns that she didn’t get along well with 

The Little Way is St. Therese is doing her best to hold cheerful conversations with a particularly surly nun 

The Little Way is St. Therese relishing being splashed with dirty laundry water as a sign of the smallest of suffering that only God would see

I called this particular post her “atomic habits,” because she believed that small acts can lead to holiness when done with great love for our Lord 

Small acts of love and self mortification were the things that she sought for while in the Carmel 

St. Therese elucidated in her signature sincere and effervescent style the enduring idea that there is no suffering too small, no act of love too small, to offer the Lord— because what he wants is souls, what he wants is us

That’s not to say that her interior life was always rich 

She suffered so much from months of aridity that she grew an affection for atheists, even going so far to say, and I quote:

[God] allowed my soul to be overwhelmed with darkness, and the thought of Heaven, which had consoled me from my earliest childhood, now became a subject of conflict and torture. This trial did not last merely for days or weeks; I have been suffering for months, and I still await deliverance. I wish I could express what I feel, but it is beyond me. One must have passed through this dark tunnel to understand its blackness ... When I sing of the happiness of Heaven and the eternal possession of God, I do not feel any joy therein, for I sing only of what I wish to believe. Sometimes, I confess, a little ray of sunshine illumines my dark night, and I enjoy peace for an instant, but later, the remembrance of this ray of light, instead of consoling me, makes the blackness thicker still.

It’s thought that St. Therese experienced this interior anguish up until the end of her battle with tuberculosis, with her final words being: “My God, I love you!” 

To summarize everything, reading St. Therese is a study not only of radical love, but also radical humility 

From a spoiled child to a martyr of the Carmel, St. Therese lived an inner life that very few of her own sisters in the convent were aware of 

Her life is also a testimony to God's perfect timing; St. Therese wanted to be a missionary in Hanoi, but was prevented from doing so when she contracted tuberculosis. She was later named a patron saint to missionaries.

St. Therese's Little Way informed the spirituality of many of the saints and intellectuals that came after her: St. Josemaria, St. John Paul II, Mother Teresa, St. Teresa of the Andes, Blessed Cecilia Eusepi, Hans Urs von Balthasar, and Dorothy Day

On her feast day, let’s take the time to reflect on what small things we can do today for the Lord; what small sufferings we can offer him with great love and humility 

God would never inspire me with desires which cannot be realized; so in spite of my littleness, I can hope to be a saint. — St. Thérèse of Lisieux

St. Therese of Lisieux, pray for us.

[heartysworld]

Mother's Day || Oscar Piastri x Reader

A/N: This is a request I got last night and the moment I saw it I knew I just HAD to write it ASAP so here it is. I hope you guys enjoy this one as much as I did! 🧡

W.C.: 2k

MASTERLIST

Oscar sat in his car, adjusting the camera mounted on the dashboard with a genuine smile.

"Good morning everyone, welcome back to the McLaren YouTube channel. It's Oscar here. So, I didn't really plan on filming this today, but according to the schedule, it's my turn to vlog and there's no way out of it. So because today is a really special day you'll be coming with me to run some errands. It's Y/N's first Mother's Day, and I want to make it memorable for her. So, I woke up super early and I'm on my way to get her some flowers and breakfast."

On the way to the places he had in mind to visit, Oscar talked about the other big part of his life. He discussed the last few races and the points he had scored with the invisible audience whom the video was intended for.

He parked the car and walked towards a quaint local flower shop, the bell above the door jingling as he entered. "Alright, so we're at Daisy's Flower Boutique. They have the best flowers in town, and I want to get something really special for Y/N."

Oscar browsed through the vibrant selection of flowers, his eyes lighting up as the woman who worked there showed him a beautiful bouquet of roses and another one of lilies. "These look perfect. I'm actually going to get both." He said. "One bouquet from me and one from our baby girl. I think my wife will love them." He added as he received an odd look from the worker. His reason for buying two bouquets actually made the woman smile, telling him how his wife and daughter are lucky to have such a husband and father.

Next, Oscar headed to a cozy bakery, ordering an assortment of pastries and a couple two lattes, all of your favorite stuff. The camera captured the delicious array of baked goods. "Y/N loves the croissants from this place, so I'm getting a bunch of her favorites. And of course, a latte to go. Funny story, this is where we had our first date six years ago. So we can say we've made it something like "our place". "

With the flowers and breakfast on the passenger seat, Oscar set off back home. "Alright, everything's set. Let's head back home and surprise my wife."

Quietly entering the house, Oscar made his way to the kitchen where Y/N was already awake, cradling their baby girl who let our a loud gurgle at the sight of her dad. "Good morning, loves," he said softly, setting the food and flowers on the counter.

Y/N looked up, a surprised smile spreading across her face. "Oscar! What's all this?"

"Happy first Mother's Day," Oscar beamed, handing her the bouquets. "This one is from me...and this one is from our little princess."

Y/N's eyes welled up with tears as she took the flowers, her smile radiant. "They're beautiful. Thank you so much," she said, leaning in to kiss Oscar and then placing a gentle kiss on their baby girl's head.

Oscar handed her a card with a delicate floral design. "There's more. Open this."

Y/N opened the card, reading the heartfelt note inside:

"To the most amazing woman and mother, Y/N, Happy first Mother's Day! Watching you with our daughter has been the greatest joy of my life. Your love, strength, and kindness inspire me every day. I’m so grateful to share this journey with you. Love always, Oscar and Tilly."

Tears streamed down Y/N's cheeks as she read the note. "Oscar, this is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me."

Oscar wrapped his arms around her, kissing her forehead gently. "You deserve it all and more."

You couldn't believe how sweet Oscar had been. This was your first Mother’s Day, and he had gone above and beyond, waking up super early during a break week, to make it special. As you sat in the kitchen, holding you baby girl, you felt an overwhelming sense of love and gratitude.

Later that week, you found out Oscar's video had blown up online. The comments were filled with people adoring him and your family. “Oscar, you’ve set the bar so high for all the partners out there!” one comment read. “Y/N is so lucky to have you, and you can see the love you all share. Happy Mother’s Day, Y/N!” another person wrote.

You decided to film a little response video for your personal instagram, thanking everyone for their kind words. Sitting in the same spot Oscar had been earlier, you turned on the camera and smiled. “Hi everyone, it’s Y/N. I just wanted to say thank you for all the lovely messages. Oscar truly made this Mother’s Day unforgettable, and I’m so grateful for him and our beautiful daughter. Seeing how much you all appreciate his effort makes it even more special. Thank you again, and happy Mother’s Day to all the wonderful moms out there.”

Turning off the camera, you felt a wave of happiness. This day had been perfect, not just because of the flowers or the breakfast, but because of the love you shared as a family. Oscar's thoughtfulness had once again touched your heart, showing you how much he loves you and how lucky you are to have him.

Reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated! 🧡

MASTERLIST

[buttercupjosh]

The Perfect Proposal (the 4 times you expected that Mat was going to propose + the 1 time he actually did)

(Gif credit to @mattymartin)

word count: 1,968

genres: established relationship, fluff, self-insert

warnings: none

A/N: This story is based off of the song “Joy of My Life” by Chris Stapleton and I make references to this song throughout the story. I highly recommend listening to this song before reading my story. This story is short, sweet and fluffy. It’s not set at a specific moment in time (It’s taking place in a fictional future but you could also say that it’s set this upcoming season or even a past season). It’s written with a female reader in mind because I’m a female of color but the reader doesn’t specifically have to be a POC or a woman and there’s little dialogue. This is not a sequel to Your Favorite Secret (which you can still read and check out and if you want this to be a sequel to that, you can interpret it that way). As always, I’m open to any and all feedback, comments or questions; just put them in my inbox or dm me. Thank you so much in advance for reading, I appreciate it😌

(P.S. I have other stories (linked here) that I have written for other players as well if you want to check it out)

“Someday it will come right on cue.” -Somewhere Love Is Waiting for You from the Schmigadoon TV series soundtrack

Prologue

Meeting Mat changed your life in the best way possible. You took Mat’s breath away when you met up for your very first date and since then, you continued to take his breath away in small doses every time you saw him. He added so much goodness and love into your life and you did the same for him. Mat felt so grateful to have you in his life and even though he made millions, being with you was his greatest treasure. You and Mat deeply appreciated each and every moment you had together, no matter how big or small it was; the two years that you had been together so far were some of your greatest times. You were both so smitten that you always looked at each other with such deep love and devotion and couldn’t get enough of your significant other’s presence. For a while, Mat knew that he wanted to propose to you but he just needed to figure out the best way how to and time when to ask that all-important question.

————————————————————

It finally happened. After 3 challenging years, you finally completed law school and earned your Juris Doctor degree from NYU. All of your friends and family came into town to celebrate your accomplishment. In order to accommodate everyone, Mat graciously rented a large AirBnb house in the Hamptons to host your graduation party. You handled some aspects of the party planning while Mat handled the rest and the party went very well. During the congratulations portion of the evening, Mat wanted to give a quick remark to acknowledge your achievement.

“For the past 2 years, I watched this wonderful person ambitiously work their way through law school. There were a lot of late nights, early mornings and so many case reviews and vocabulary study sessions that I think I could go get a law degree. Y/N, to say that I am proud of you is a massive understatement. My love, you are so amazing and you did it. I love you so much. Because I love you so much, I have a surprise for you.” Mat spoke.

This moment seemed like it was the right time for Mat to ask for your hand in marriage; you had been dating for a while, you lived together and blended your families together, and he had just finished a great speech that made all of the party’s attendees realize how much he was in love with you. Instead, Mat handed you an envelope. Inside the envelope was a copy of a check for the exact amount that you owed in student loans and a letter informing you that your loans were fully paid off. You couldn’t believe what was happening and began to cry.

“How did you do this?”, you mustered out through your tears of joy.

“So you know how you gave me access to your book of important information in case anything happened to you? Well, I asked Liana to call the loan office to pretend to be you and ask for your account balance”, Mat cheesily revealed.

Mat saw firsthand how much distress and frustration law school caused you so he wanted to help out someone he deeply loved by eliminating the stress of having to pay for a student loan; this surprise was better than an engagement ring.

————————————————————

After your graduation party and after the Islanders were eliminated from playoffs, it was the official start of the off-season. This year, it was a milestone birthday for Mat’s dad so the Barzal family decided to do a European summer vacation to celebrate. You were important enough to their family that you had been invited and Liana, Mat’s sister, also invited her best friend to accompany her on the trip.

Hand-in-hand with the man you considered to be the love of your life and his family, for 3 weeks, you explored England, France, Monaco, and Mat’s ancestral homeland of Italy. In England, you indulged in English culture while Mat hilariously attempted a British accent. In France, you shared plenty of kisses with your lover in the City of Love, swooning every time Mat spoke French. In Monaco, you and Mat felt like the protagonists of a spy thriller while hanging out in the city.

Once you arrived in Italy, you got to see a different side of Mat that rarely came out. He had been to Italy several times before but he was thrilled to share all that he knew about that special place with you. Mat glowed differently whenever you got authentic gelato together or when he swam in the waters along the Amalfi Coast. Of course, throughout the trip, you still spent plenty of time with Mat’s parents, sister, and her friend and attended a lovely birthday dinner on a boat for Mat’s dad while visiting Sicily.

On the plane ride traveling back to Canada after your whirlwind European tour, you thought to yourself that you were going to come back to North America with a new jewelry addition to your left hand; you did have a lot of date nights and one-on-one time with Mat on the trip. However, your wonderful boyfriend did get you a gorgeous Cartier love bracelet from the official store in Paris and you were returning back with the gift of good memories that were created with your future in-laws.

————————————————————

The remainder of the off-season went by so quickly; between weddings, summer holidays, and other events all happening, you and Mat were swept in so many different directions. Time flies when you’re having fun and soon, it was already time to return to Long Island for the hockey season.

The usual ups, downs, and chaos of the hockey season lingered in your household but you navigated through it together. As the season went on, you spent a lot of time studying for the Multistate Professional Responsibility Exam and Universal Bar Exam, which allowed you to become eligible to be admitted to the New York State Bar next year. Even though you had those responsibilities, you still supported Mat at most of his home games. One of the things about Mat that you loved was how he would always quietly tiptoe into your shared home after a late game but he loved how you always waited up for him to come home after every game, regardless of what time he returned. Before you both knew it, the year was winding down and it was almost Christmas time. You and Mat had decided to host Christmas this year and both of your families were coming. This wasn’t the first time that both of your families had been together to celebrate an occasion; they were there all together for your law school graduation earlier in the year and both sides enjoyed being together as one cohesive unit but for some reason, things felt different to you this holiday season.

You spent hours preparing and making sure that everything was right for the arrival of your guests. Christmas came and went wonderfully. It was so nice to have your families together during the holidays. You gifted Mat a new game day tie and a gift card to one of his favorite road restaurants; Mat got you a nice bag to carry all of your work things and a personalized padfolio for you to take all of your legal notes in.

Yes, you were secretly expecting a diamond underneath the tree this year but it was okay because you still got other great gifts as well. Despite wanting something else, you still deeply cherished the time you got to spend with your loved ones.

————————————————————

After the holidays were over, you and Mat settled back into your respective routines until it was All-Star Break. Mat was not chosen for the All-Star Game that year and some of the Islanders players and families decided to go to the Bahamas for their team All-Star Break trip. The time away gave you and Mat both some essential rest and relaxation. At the end of February, you were scheduled to take the Universal Bar Exam but you took a break from studying to enjoy your mini-vacation. You stayed with your lover and company at a phenomenal resort; you swam with dolphins, relaxed at the spa, and ate so much tasty food. You also enjoyed lots of group activities with Mat and his teammates and their respective significant others. During the trip, one of Mat’s best friends’, Anthony, and his long-term girlfriend, Emma got engaged. It stung a little to see someone else reach the relationship milestone you deeply desired to share with Mat and you had expected that it was going to be you and your lover’s turn to share that special romantic moment on this trip, however, you were happy for your friends.

————————————————————

One evening, you came home from a long, exhausting day of work. After passing both the Universal Bar Exam and Multistate Professional Responsibility Exam and completing some other requirements, you were admitted to the New York State Bar last month and got a job as a junior attorney. It was a pleasant surprise to see Mat cooking; he was subtly singing in the kitchen and tenderly caring for some handmade pasta. You couldn’t quite make out what song Mat was singing but it didn’t matter what it was because you had caught him singing songs that you’ve played around the house and pop songs from the radio plenty of times before. You smiled to yourself as watched him in his element before slipping away for a much-needed shower.

After you came out of the shower and changed, there was a beautiful plate of pasta waiting for you on the table. Mat tapped deep into his Italian heritage and made a delectable dinner for the two of you. You shared with Mat the details of work and although, he may not quite fully understand everything you were expressing your feelings about, he still listened to you as you rambled on. After dinner concluded, you and Mat were going to share a box of bakery cannolis and watch a movie on the couch but Mat told you to wait at the table and suddenly got up. He returned to the room with a look of nervousness on his face. You asked Mat if he was okay but you could tell that he had something important to say.

“I’ve been holding onto this ring for a while. There were so many other times that I wanted to ask but there’s just something that feels so right about this moment. Sitting here, I realized something very important. I want to spend the rest of my life, making you dinner when I can and listening to you speak. I want to continue to come home from my games to you and wake up next to you. I have the greatest honor of knowing and loving you. You have the sweetest heart that’s made of gold and you are like an angel brought down to Earth from Heaven. I want to be by your side forever. Y/N, you are the joy of my life. Will you marry me?” Mat declared while holding out the engagement ring of your dreams in a Tiffany blue box.

You were speechless because Mat was right; this was the perfect moment. You looked straight into Mat’s green eyes that you admired so dearly and accepted his marriage proposal; you were both super excited to embark on this new journey in your relationship. You and Mat swayed with each other to the sound of your fiance’s voice, serenading you to “Joy Of My Life” by Chris Stapleton, the same song Mat was singing to himself earlier. Patience was an important virtue and all of that waiting paid off at the right time.

[gay-dorito-dust]

( ´∀`) I am possibly missing where it says your requests are open or not. I apologize if it is.

If it interests you (your batfam posts bring me joy) how would the boys Jay, Dick, Damian (whoever else) would react to only being able to tell the truth for a day? Like they confess all the things they like about their crush, compliment their family, admit to disliking a dish Alfred made (GASP <(｀^´)> ).

Thank youuuuu~

Jason wore his heart on his sleeve, he lets anyone knows what’s on his mind with zero filter, so him being forced to be truthful was no different to how Jason actually was on a day to day basis.

So at first he doesn’t think anything was out of the ordinary until you asked him a question one day regarding your love life;

‘I don’t think I’ll be able to find anyone here Jay, I mean what do I have to do to find somebody.’

‘You don’t have to do anything because everyone else is the problem, not you.’ Jason found himself answering before his mind could find an appropriate response without crossing the boundary of your friendship. ‘They obviously don’t see perfection when they see it because they weren’t looking at you and I find that insulting because who wouldn’t look into your eyes and see forever within them?.’ He finishes and was quick to cover his mouth with his hand, worried that he might’ve said too much for you.

‘And do you see forever in my eyes jay birdie?’ You asked softly, leaning towards him.

Jason drops his hand from his mouth. ‘Hell yeah I do, amongst many other things because you’re worth every heartbreak I’ve ever had in the past because being with you would be my life’s greatest dream come true.’

The next time Jason spoke truthfully was when Dick came to visit and it was after a long, long night of patrol and sleep was at the forefront of his mind, causing it to fog as he let it slip on what he truly thought of Dick.

‘You’re my brother, we may not be related by blood but no one has stood in my corner and was so prepared to be in the wrong then you Richard, and for that I thank you. You really are the best of us.’

Needless to say when he found out that Dick had the whole thing recorded, he wanted to strangle the fucker and make his death look like an accident. Sibling things.

Now, Jason -much like any other- loved Alfred’s food and would never raise an issue over it as he’d pretty much eat anything with his bottomless stomach. So even if he didn’t like one of Alfred’s recipes more self then others, he would say it in the most politest way possible. He loved that kindhearted man too much to ever say anything in regards of the food he’s made him since he was a young lad.

Dick would find peoples expressions to him being honest and truthful funny, but at the same time would be somewhat relieved with this turn out, as he wouldn’t have to force himself to be truthful just to get people to stop asking whether he was alright or not.

He knew he wasn’t always open and honest with his innermost thoughts and feelings at the best and worst of times, knowing all too well of how that would cause lead to the occasional argument of two down the line for himself, but he was never really given the space to figure it out himself on his own time.

So when he found himself speaking the truth to just about anyone, it was as though his heart was exposed for all to see it beating and all. It was as though all of his innermost thoughts regarding everyone in his life was being broadcasted to anyone and everyone with ears and the ability to hear it.

‘You’re so good with Hayley you know.’ Dick blurted once when you were playing with Hayley, stoping as soon as you heard him say this, allowing for Hayley to snatch the toy from your limp hand and lie down elsewhere to amuse herself with the squeaks that the toy would make every time she bite down on it.

‘What?’ You asked.

‘I mean it, you’re really good with Hayley and you’ve been nothing but an amazing person with a pretty smile and addicting laugh.’ Dick adds as he held his head in his hands as he looked at you with a soft look upon his face. Dick wasn’t still that bothered that you knew how he felt, it was bound to come out sooner or later and would take it in stride, even if he didn’t have control over what had just came out of his mouth just now.

The next time Dick finds himself being truthful was when he visited Jason after a long night of patrol and in the midst of a silent period Dick then said;

‘You’re amazing Jason. Bruce doesn’t know what he’s talking about, he never did when it came to us Robins, using one of us as a frame of reference for everyone else isn’t fair but you are my friend, my brother and I am so proud of you. You are not a failure, you’re anything but one.’ Jason sat silent the entire time and after Dick had finished he made a noise from the back of his throat, a small smile gracing his face as he looked out over the streets of Gotham, reaching out to pat Dick on the shoulder and said. ‘Thanks man.’

Dick always cared deeply for Jason, seeing him as his little brother and would gladly stand in his corner no matter what, even if he was wrong because that was what older siblings did. Dick never shied away from how deeply he felt agonising pain when he though he had lost his little brother and confronted Bruce about the entire thing, enraged and grieving simultaneously. Now whenever he caught wind of what Jason was doing as red hood, he can’t help but smile knowing his brother was doing just fine, but would always make it known that he was just a phone call away.

Dick knew Alfred wasn’t going to bite his head off for saying that he didn’t like something but would instead ask how he could better it for his taste. So even if Dick did say anything about one of Alfred’s recipe, he knows Alfred would be more than understanding. However it was an unspoken rule amongst him and his siblings that they’d eat anything and everything Alfred made them without a single complaint unless it was necessary.

They all love that man too much to ever say anything negative about his cooking.

Damian would hate being forced to speak nothing but the truth.

He’d really hate it as being blunt and opinionated was how he always was and so being open and honest wasn’t his forte and it felt wrong in a sense due to it feeling as though he was put in a position of vulnerability.

He hates it even more when he finds himself confessing to all the things that he liked and or found remotely interesting about you whenever you were near, it felt as though someone was pupating him to say these things when deep down he knew they were how he genuinely felt but was too deep in denial to admit this to himself.

‘How do I look?’ You innocently asked.

‘Breathtaking like you always do so seamlessly.’ Damian replied without hesitation before looking up from his sketchbook once realisation hit him, only to see that you were already looking at him with wide eyes.

‘You mean that?’ You said, wanting to know whether or not you heard him properly.

‘Of course.’ Damian said and when he felt his mouth open, he tried to close it but it seemed as though his body had a mind of his own as he found himself continuing to speak. ‘On many occasions have I spent thinking you were naturally breathtaking and have thought so for many more on top of that to the point you are my one sole muse.’ He finished and it wasn’t long before you were planning your first date together.

Damian knew this wouldn’t be the first time he was going to be forced to speak the truth and the second time came in him actually complimenting Tim on his smarts and combat prowess, something that he’d rather drink pure poison before ever admitting out of pride.

‘Tt. Don’t sell yourself short Drake, you’re a competent Robin and an exceptional detective.’ He’d say when it was just him and Tim in the Batcave and immediately regrets it and makes him swear to secrecy, obviously this doesn’t last long after the period of speaking truthfully wears off and Damian goes back to being his blunt, straightforward, unapologetic self.

Damian loves Alfred’s cooking, but all of his cooking weren’t Damian’s favourite and while he wouldn’t hesitate to tell others how he felt, he didn’t feel the same when it came to Alfred’s cooking despite the man being nothing but kind and open minded.

So if he ever were to speak about his least favourite food Alfred had ever made and even when Alfred was more then accepting of his opinion, Damian would try to help Alfred however he could in return for his comments about his cooking. Alfred was probably one person he’d never want to hurt with his words.

[the-californicationist]

Hiii

First of all I wanted to thank you for your amazing fics 🤩. They have become a part of my life and I can’t live without them anymore 🥹💖

Secondly, I wanted to ask about a fic if you would consider. 🫶

Price is injured in his thigh and we are a medic. When attending to the wound the tension rises and a little bit of teasing from our part? 😌

Also, Price can’t take us like he wants because of the wound but we can do 69?

Or maybe something more thrilling! I know you are the greatest in ideas and writing! ❤️‍🔥

Thank you a loooot. (*＾3＾）/～♡

Do No Harm

After being shot in the leg, Captain Price is put on strict bed rest by his medic: you. When he threatens to break your orders, you decide to use your rank against him.

AO3 Link

TW: female reader, face fucking, hurt/comfort, come play

When the captain got shot, all hell broke loose. Ghost and Gaz retaliated swiftly, and the bomb that Soap rigged to blow the enemy encampment was more than a little overkill. The four of them had shown up back at your makeshift base, sweaty, bloody, and exhausted. 

“What happened?” You asked the tall lieutenant, searching his face as he removed the skull mask, looking for signs as to how serious it was. 

“He took a hit to the thigh. Dead bloody center,” the tall Brit rolled his captain over, the latter of whom let out a torrid string of curses and shouts, nasty enough to make you blush. 

You inspected the wound, but his clothing was in your way. Ripping your scissors out of your chest armor, you set to cutting him out of his trousers, and you tried not to let the panic get the best of you. 

The truth was that you were keeping a secret. You were sleeping with their captain. You and John had broken a series of rules (and furniture) over the past four months, enjoying each other in the most primal, carnal way. Every night that he was on base, he sneaked into your medbay, aching with something other than pain and searching for his cure. 

You knew it was wrong. It was so far beyond protocol that you wouldn’t be surprised if they court martialed you when they found out, but you didn’t care. You were addicted to him. When he was away for too long, you crawled through the hallways and out into the common rooms with a slick problem between your legs. Something only his fat cock and filthy mouth could solve. 

He was terrible with you. Nothing was off-limits. He used you like a toy, and his fervid want was enough to burn you alive. In the darkness, his grasping hands and hot breath scorched your skin, searing across your belly, pinching your nipples, playing in your lips, all for the express purpose of making you come. It was his favorite thing. By the sixth, the seventh, when you were begging him to squeeze his pulsing rod inside of you, pleading in whispered cries for him to fuck you, he would chuckle with a dark joy. Teasing you, calling you his pretty little plaything, reminding you that you were fully at his mercy. 

It was hard to see him like this, but you were good at your job, and luckily, the bullet had gone right into the muscle. No broken femur, no arterial damage. Your predator would live to hunt you another day. 

“I need everybody out. Come back in an hour,” you commanded. 

“Yes, ma’am,” Gaz replied, leading the others out of the clinic to debrief and regroup after a hard night. 

You sliced through his canvas pants, slipping the shears through the fabric to reveal his bare skin. He never wore any underwear, which you were always quick to rib him for. Then, you inspected the wound. They had packed it in the field, and as you removed the dressings, more and more blood pooled out of the hole, obscuring your view. You worked as fast as you could, administering as much anesthetic as you had on hand, knowing that it wasn’t enough. He was doing everything he could not to writhe in pain as you threw stitch after stitch. 

“Jus’ wanted to get me alone, didn’t ya?” He teased you through gritted teeth. His voice was weak, but he was feisty, which was a good sign. 

You smiled down at him, joking around,

“You know it. But, you’re lookin’ a little worse for wear today, Captain. Might have to get my fix somewhere else.”

“Don’t even think about it,” he growled, grabbing the side of the table hard enough to make the metal frame whine when you hit a nerve with your needle, “Another man lays a fuckin’ hand on you, and he’ll wish he hadn’t.” 

“Can’t have you reopening this wound, John. I worked hard on these stitches.”

“How’m I gonna sneak in to see you tonight?” He looked up at you with softer eyes, a youthful gaze on his face. 

You pitied him, winking cheekily, 

“Might just have to keep you here for observation.”

His whole body relaxed then, relieved in a way you hadn’t expected. You had just been kidding around, but his reaction made you change your mind. If he felt better with you in your clinic, you’d add it to the orders. The last thing you needed was your headstrong man limping through the base just for a chance at some action. 

You finished up, cleaning the wound and surrounding skin, wiping down the rest of him as best you could. He was filthy, and the water in your bucket was full of sand by the time you were done. But, he still smelled like the sun and his sweat, and it was enough to make the animal part of your mind practically salver at the idea of how his skin must taste. The saltiness, full of his pheromones… you chastised yourself for even thinking about it. 

He was finally asleep, full of morphine and exhausted from his ordeal. Gaz popped back in, and you told him you’d be keeping their commander overnight. You thought you’d gotten away with your little game, but there was a knowing glint in the sergeant’s eye that told you he knew more than you thought. 

You tried not to stress about it. His men were loyal to him, and you knew they wouldn’t rat you out. But, still. You made a mental note to be more careful in the future. 

Your bedtime routine was short and easy. You slipped into some shorts and one of John’s abandoned tee shirts. Luckily, it looked like everyone else’s tee shirt, so no one was the wiser. You could always say you stole a larger one from the supply room. But, it smelled like him, and you slept like a rock when you wore it. 

You climbed into bed, and before you could even think about going to sleep, the ache between your legs reared its horny head, coaxing you to touch yourself, disguising itself as a tingle, an itch that needed to be scratched. As soon as your fingers pried apart your soft petals, you discovered the truth. You were soaking wet, and your core was hot like molten lead, giving your digits no resistance as you played with yourself, slipping them in and out of your slick folds. 

You heard a noise escape from your throat against your will, and you tried to hold it back, rolling your eyes from the slam of pleasure that rushed to your head. You were dizzy with want, and even though you tried to quiet the sound, you could hear your own wet flesh popping and sluicing with more and more of your precome, preparing you for an encounter you knew you couldn’t have. 

You came quickly, and without much warning, clenching down on nothing, biting your hand to keep from screaming for him. You peeked over your shoulder, and luckily, he hadn’t woken up. You thought about how nice it would feel to have his big body curled against you as you crashed into a deep slumber, the scent of your wet hand and his old shirt mixing together and lulling you to sleep. 

There was no way to tell how much time had passed, but when you woke, it was still dark. Your eyes darted over to the clinic table, and John was… missing?

You sat up with a start only to find him fully naked at the end of your bed, getting ready to crawl in beside you. 

“John!” You hissed, “What are you doing? You can’t be walking around.”

“Gotta have you, love. I’m so hard, it hurts.”

“You were shot in your fucking leg, Jonathan Price. Let me see the dressing.”

“Quit fussin’ over me, girl. C’mere,” he covered you with his body and grabbed your wrists, forcing you to lay beneath him, flat and vulnerable. He set to pulling away your clothes, making quick work of it, sighing raggedly when he felt your naked body beneath his own. 

But, he was in pain. You could see him adjusting and readjusting, trying to figure out how he could fuck you like he wanted to, unable to find a solution. 

“John,” you whispered, feeling his mouth on your neck, “We can’t. You’re going to hurt yourself. Don’t make me order you to stop.”

“I’m your commander,” he breathed, threatening you with his teeth, leaving a bruise on your sensitive skin. 

“Don’t…” you gasped as his fingers found your gooey center, “Don’t confuse your rank for my authority, Captain Price. You’re under my care.”

He glared at you, coming to a pause, leaving his fingers in you to play in your hole, gently pulsing in and out, teasing you just enough to keep you on the edge, 

“You want me to stop? Hm?”

The more he teased you, the more hot slick collected on his hands, sticky and clear, covering his fingers and making him harden with every moment. 

Then, he took a sharp breath in through his nose, and paused, hiding his grimace in the crook of his arm. You canted your hips, removing his hand from you, fed up with his defiance, 

“John, that’s enough. If you make me restitch that wound, I will have to do it without drugs. We’re out of anesthetic.”

“Please, love,” he held you close to him, letting you feel his hard length as it rolled against your tummy, making a trail of precome across your skin, “I need you. I’ve missed you so bad. Lemme fuck you. Put my cock in you.”

“Hold on,” you shifted your body so that he would turn on his side. Then, you lay opposite him, your head laying at the foot of the bed, bringing you face to face with his swollen, hungry cock. 

In this position, you could suck him off, and he wouldn’t need to use his thigh. 

You licked your lips, trailing them across his cockhead, collecting his salty pearls of pleasure and wearing them like gloss, suckling from his tip as softly as you could just to taunt him further. 

“Ahhh, fuck…” His sigh was delicious. All of that pain and all of the stress that had made him so tense rushed out of him, making his skin pebble with bliss. 

Without hesitation, John bent his head, pulling your hips to his open mouth, and wrapping your leg under his arm, eating your pussy and groaning with a lurid, feral pleasure. 

The feeling of his soft lips and scruffy beard against your sensitive skin flung you into a spiral of pleasure. You could feel his warm tongue prodding and exploring through you, greedily splitting you to get to your hot, honeyed center. 

You wanted more of his taste, so you went to work, stretching your jaw to accommodate his girth, taking him deeper into your throat, using your tongue to trace a wet circle around his head when you needed to catch your breath, teasing him just beneath his foreskin. When you did, his cock throbbed for you, egging you on, eager to drip its load into your mouth. 

“Fuckin’ hell, love. Gonna make me come,” he threatened. 

Suddenly, you felt his fingers dip back inside of you. He was aggressive with his fondling, shoving two of his thick digits deep inside of you, curling them cruelly to press upon your most pliant, responsive spot. 

As he fucked you with his hand, he let his tongue lap against your clit, making you whine around his dick, muffled by his shaft. You felt his hips begin to thrust forward and back, desperately fucking your throat, getting closer and closer to releasing his orgasm inside of you. 

You couldn’t wait to taste him. You wanted him to use you. You didn’t want to hurt him, but the truth was — as hungry as he was for your body — you needed him just as badly. 

You felt your body begin to tense, and you knew it wouldn’t be long before he would have you coming on his hands. He kept his pace, knowing your favorite rhythm, humming to himself as he devoured you, sucking up every drop of your wetness as if he’d never drink from your tight font again. 

Your toes curled, your legs tried to close in on themselves, stopped by his body trapped between them, and something snapped inside of your core, letting loose spiraling sparks of pleasure, breaking you apart over and over, only for each gentle lick from his tongue to put you back together. 

“Mmhm,” he praised you, “Good girl. Just like that. Rub your come on my mouth.”

You did as you were told, no longer in the driver’s seat when it came to your body, fully trained to submit to his will. You shamelessly smeared your pussy across his bearded jaw, humping lewdly against him, all for him to whisper gratefully between licks, 

“Yes, more. More. Give it to me. Fuck my mouth, love. Fuck, I love it. Fuck…”

All the while, he was thrusting into your mouth, deeper and deeper, choking you on his hardness. But, you let him. You allowed him to use you, holding onto his hips for dear life, breathing in every gap that he left, gasping for air, feeling yourself getting dizzy. 

“Are you ready for me?” He groaned, peering down at you between your bodies.

You moaned something you hoped sounded like a yes, and he turned his full attention towards you. You felt his fingers leave your pussy, only to wrap themselves through your hair, sticky and messy, making a strong, merciless grip at the base of your skull. 

He fucked you in earnest, then. It was gratifying to hear his satisfied grunts, and as you felt his cock swell even more, you knew he was about to come. Your mind wanted air, but your body wanted his load. You wanted to feel it slip into your  throat, hot and milky, pouring down your neck like a salacious prize. 

Finally, he went stock-still, and the only thing that moved was his cock. It throbbed inside of you, shooting rope after rope of heavy come down your tongue, painting your mouth white. 

He removed himself from you as quick as he could, pulling your head back up to your pillow, bringing you face to face with him, whispering in an animalistic tone, 

“Lemme see it, pretty girl. Open up. Let me… ahh, yes. That’s it.”

He dipped his finger into your mouth, gathering up his own orgasm onto the tip, smearing it around your lips like he was putting on your makeup. 

You were panting, gasping in the air you so desperately needed, and you tried not to swallow, gathering up as much of his foaming fluid on your tongue as you could, sticking it out for him, showing him what a good girl you could be. 

He took more of it onto his hand and dipped down between your legs, painting your swollen folds with his spend, mixing your come together like some ritual. 

You couldn’t help but whimper. You were overstimulated and raw, and he shushed you, bringing his hand back up to play with your soft nipples, 

“Shh, it’s okay, love. It’s okay. Kiss me.”

You felt his mouth crash into yours, and your own heady taste invaded your senses, folding in with his, making your body roll itself against him, begging him for more. 

“Leg already feels better. C’mon, love. Give us the go ahead, hm?”

“I will tie you to this bed, John Price. Don’t test me,” you looked up at him before laying your head on his furry chest, breathing when he breathed, watching his hairy belly rise and fall. 

“Promise?” He chuckled, pulling you closer and holding you there all night, unwilling to compromise, claiming you in every way he knew how. You dozed against him, sated and happy, wondering how long you could keep a secret this good. 

Sorry for the wait! Work is hellish right now, but as soon as this semester is over with, I'll be posting more. Thanks for letting me know your thoughts.

[lvlyfawn]

KATE MARTIN X PREGNANT WIFE READER

word count; 640 words.

authors note; i love love love feedback!! please come into my inbox and tell me what you think, it really helps to motivate me!

— cried when you told her. tears of joy of course, the two of you had been expecting it. the treatment was bound to work at some point, and if it didn’t, you’d adopt. holding the pregnancy text in hand, you’d cried as well.

— you had recorded your reactions as the test was flipped over. just for the memories, not to post. the pregnancy was not nearly ever posted, you preferred to keep these nine months all to yourselves. the public knew that the kate martin and her wife were expecting their first child, but it wasn’t found out until you were almost ready to give birth. once the baby was born, you tried to keep their face and name out of the media as much as possible. you and kate only wanted this baby to have the most normal life they could have.

the most you’d post, was pictures where you bump was not shown.

— nearly always had her hand on your stomach. everywhere you went, kate stood next to you holding onto you protectively. if you wanted space, your wife stood not too far away, but far enough to keep you happy. in addition to always touching your belly, she’d kissed it all of the time. she truly couldn’t believe it was finally real.

— kate just hopes for a healthy baby, not specifically a boy or a girl. but, when you found out the gender of the baby, the girl was over the moon. you were having a boy. every second she got, she rambled on and on about how good this would be for her nephew, carson. one of the greatest joys of the pregnancy was watching your wife hold carson in her arms and tell him about how his new cousin would be his bestfriend.

— every morning your wife sat on the side of the bathtub, holding back your hair and rub her hand on your back attempting to soothe you. she wishes morning sickness wasn’t a thing at all :((

— cooked for you every night, and every morning. always making or buying what you craved. her cooking wasn’t great, but you never wanted to hurt the poor girls feelings. so the two of you spent lots of time eating out. the thought was what counted after all.

— kate was forever thankful that carson had provided her with practice, and that she had awesome role models that gave her many tips. of course, you’d wake up late in the night to pee, and you’d find the blonde in the living room tiredly watching videos on how to swaddle or burp a baby.

“kate, baby, come back to bed. give the teddy bear a rest. you’ve got six months.”

— speaking of late nights, the girl would sit next to you with her hand on your stomach trying to feel some sort of kick. she couldn’t help but feel jealous that you’d always get to have the extra closeness to the baby during these nine months. and that you’d always be the first to feel the kick. but times like these, she cherished, it helped you to share the experience with her.

— after the six month mark, and your bump had grown larger, kate did everything for you. she took care of everything, cleaning, preparing the nursery, and she still had time for her career. the girl was constantly doting on you, showing how much she truly loved you. no matter how many times you told her she didn’t need to do this all, she’d insist.

— and once your child is born, it’s born somehow looking like the perfect mix of both of you, even though you knew that wouldn’t be possible. funny how you carried this baby for nine months, yet he is just as sassy as kate.

divs by @/anitalenia , feedback encouraged + anons are on. taglist; @bveckers @kmoneymartini @cosmopretty @charlottehughess @aubreygriffin. comment to be on taglist!!

[celaenaeiln]

Hiii, I don't really know if you made a post about this or not, but can I ask what you think of damian and dick's relationship? you have a really deep insight on the bat family's relationship, so I'm curious on how you would describe those two

Damian and Dick are probably the most important to each other in the family with the other being each other's most favorite person in the world. Dick is Damian's father, brother, mentor, and best friend. Actually it's reflective of Dick's relationship with Bruce but none of the toxic expectations and brute force of misplaced responsibilities.

Dick is loving and understanding of Damian and he's able to read him before Damian can even express his words.

For example, when the Black Lantern things open the caskets of Martha and Thomas Wayne, Dick asks Damian to help him wrap up the bodies but-

Blackest Night: Batman Issue #1

He's able to anticipate and take care of Damian before Damian can even tell him what he's thinking. That's the level of love and understanding Dick has of him.

Damian is insanely protective over Dick. When Deadman, Boston Brand, jumps into Dick, Damian gets super protective of his Batman.

Blackest Night: Batman Issue #1

Also Dick CANNOT STAND IT when someone hurts or insults Damian.

Blackest Night: Batman Issue #1

Honestly I think Dick loves Damian's sass. Even when he says he wants to kill people Dick's just like, "not today another day kiddo" which is just super heartwarming when you hear their banter.

Anyways, Dick and Damian have the funniest back and forth!

Batman and Robin (2009) Issue #21

Damian values each and every word of Dick's.

Batman: Streets of Gotham Issue #1

While Damian respects Batman for what he created and wants to be appreciated as his son, Damian just loves Dick for who he is. I know some people think Bruce may be jealous of Dick and Damian's relationship, and while it's possible, I think Bruce is just super proud and happy. His greatest joy in life comes from Dick succeeding and he would have found it weird if Dick and Damian didn't get along because he inherently believes that Dick is the peak of goodness.

What I love most about Dick and Damian is that Damian is always shown as a loveable kid when he's with Dick. In the Batman and Robin (2011) comics with Bruce and Damian vs the Batman and Robin (2009) comics with Dick and Damian, Damian is much softer. Part of this comes from Bruce's refusal to treat him as robin originally, but their interactions are more stilted than the easy-going and funny ones between Damian and his big brother. But here's where it gets interesting. The writers write the characters in terms of how they would react to each other. What perception they would have of each other. So subconsciously the writers are creating the characters based on how they look at each other - meaning, Dick only sees Damian's good sides and finds his darker ones humorous whereas Bruce sees more of Damian's darker sides and has to rework himself to acknowledge Damian's growth.

I find that so fascinating how a character's personality in accordance with their relationships feeds back into the writer's writing rather than the writer influencing the relationships.

The most Dick has said about Damian willing to kill criminals is-

Batman: Streets of Gotham Issue #3

Another reason why Damian values Dick aside from being on the receiving end of his unconditional love is that Dick treats Damian like an equal. Dick doesn't command Damian to stay at his side at all times, he send Damian to do one task while he finishes up the other half. This indicates the amount of trust and faith he has in Robin's abilities and Damian in turn respects that.

Something that needs to be brought to attention is that just as much as Dick stops Damian from killing people, he is also his number one aiding and abetting partner.

Nightwing (2016) Issue #1

I LOVE THE MEAN LITTLE GRIN ON HIS FACE!!

My favorite part is Dick makes time for Damian just to have fun. He's a mentor and a father, but he's also the best brother someone could ask for.

Nightwing (2016) Issue #4

Honestly Gotham War Issue #138 was so confusing to me because there's just no way Damian would pander mindlessly to receive Bruce's acceptance. He literally broke from Batman to become his own person - he ran away - and suddenly he's back and begging for Bruce's love?? Even fighting over Dick is fine but the lack of connection between them?

Damian is single handedly the most important person in the world to Dick.

Damian is Dick's son.

Robin (2021) Issue #5

I find their relationship special because this is the only in his entire time life that Dick has ever given away a family momento of his own volition first. His parents and his background mean the utmost to him; he cradles the memories with longing and love. But inspite all this, he's giving away the last piece of family history. No, giving away isn't the right word. He's passing down his legacy. Damian is his son, he's literally inheriting the Grayson legacy in the way that only Dick can give. Bruce gave the kids Dick's mantle but he cannot give any of them Dick's history but Dick gave that to Damian. That's beautiful.

He straight up says it too

Nighwing (2016) Issue #20

"When your dad came back, there was a moment I thought it would be better for you if you stayed with me. As my partner. As my..." "Really?" "Yeah."

DC SAID DICK AND DAMIAN FATHER AND SON RIGHTS AS CLOSE AS THEY COULD WITHOUT TAKING AWAY BRUCE'S BLOOD CLAIM.

Damian considers Dick his father.

Nighwing (2016) Issue #18

"Finding a new life. Considering a child to replace me. I don't know what I will be...alone. I need you here, Richard."

"Considering a child to replace me. "

Damian is heartbroken at the idea that Dick will have a kid and move on.

He loves Dick so much he goes all the way to Bludhaven just because he loves and misses him after Bruce took over as Batman.

Nighwing (2016) Issue #20

Batman Incorporated (2012) Issue #8

"Are you with me Nightwing? The odds are completely against us."

"When did we ever let something like that get in the way? Robin the boy wonder, Damian."

Batman Incorporated (2012) Issue #8

"So far I'd say you've been my favorite partner. We were the best, Richard. Not matter what anyone thinks."

Robin (2021) Issue #5

Nightwing (2016) Issue #20

The world can stand against Damian but Dick will always be on his side.

Which is a problem in recent DC works because

Dick & Damian:

og panels Batman & Robin (2009) Issue #17

[cheeseceli]

When you marry someone else

Pairing: ot5 TXT × Gn! reader (individually)

Genre: angst, unrequited love, a bit bittersweet, reactions

Prompt: they attend your wedding, but you are the love of his life, and he is not the groom.

Warnings: no happy ending for now, reader wears a wedding dress on Yeonjun's, Kai has mentions of food, mentions of tears and crying

A/n: had this entire idea when showering, so enjoy the angst! | Daily click

Yeonjun

He is so conflicted

He is genuinely happy at the thought of you finding the love of your life, but he is sad because it's not him

He is happy when he sees you in that beautiful dress, but he is sad when he sees that you didn't dress up with him on your mind

He wants to sit down on the first row to see you closer, but he also wants to stand on the end of the room so it doesn't hurt that much

He loves you but he wished he didn't

At the party, he would try his best to avoid both you and your now husband

He wants to be there for you, but it seems unfair that he needs to watch it in so many details

He tries to distract himself from the fact that this night is all about you dedicating your life to someone else

And he tries to ignore his mind telling him that this someone else was so not worth of you

His vows seemed shallow, and it was ridiculous how he didn't cry when he saw you walking down the aisle. It outraged Yeonjun to see him talking with his friends instead of being with you

Everything that the groom did, Yeonjun knew he could do ten times better

But he was trying to ignore it. For the sake of your night

And when you come to him, handing him the bouquet, he can't help but feel defeated

"I want you to be the next one to find everlasting happiness" is what you said to him

So Yeonjun took the bouquet, hoping and praying that it actually meant something

Soobin

He genuinely thought on not going

The moment he received the invitation, he threw it away

And since he refused to talk to you ever since, you thought you'd be missing your best friend on your wedding day

But in the end, he couldn't help but to go to the ceremony

It wasn't fair on you if he missed one of the most important days of your life

Especially since you had no idea Soobin has been in love with you for decades

So he attends the wedding

And he regrets it the moment he gets there

Why were you so beautiful?

And why were you so happy?

He talks to all your friends and family members throughout the day

He is searching for any hint that your fiance doesn't deserve you

Anything that could give him a reason to stand up and object

But there is nothing

The man you fell in love with was nothing but a kind and generous person

And Soobin can't recall a day where you had smiled that much before

So he just sits down in defeat when you start to say your vows, wondering what he could've done in the past so today would've been different

Beomgyu

He is trying his best to act like your best friend

Like yes, he's so happy for you!!

He'll cry tears of joy and he'll party all night!!

He's doing his best to just be happy for you

Because that's what he's supposed to be

Happy for you, not happy with you

So he buys you the greatest gift you could ever imagine

He talks with every single person in the party

He is the first to go to the dance floor and he doesn't hesitate on playing with the kids

He is trying to be happy

And when your groom comes to him, thanking him for taking care of you until now, Beomgyu cries a bit

Especially when the groom vows that he will love and protect you from now on

He cries in the ceremony and cries even more when you hug him by the end of it

But as your best friend, he promises he'll always do his best to be happy for you

Taehyun

He won't be there

I'm so sorry, but I don't think he would be able to endure the pain

Every time he saw you guys on a date, or the photos you post, or the messages you sent with "I'm with my boyfriend right now, can we talk later?" always felt like a dagger in his heart

So to see everything come to life was not something he could do

He'll come see you a day before the wedding though

And in his plan, he would try to convince you to give up

He never liked your boyfriend anyways, he didn't feel like too good of a person

So he tries to hint on the topic

But you're so blindly in love that you don't notice

And he's so in love with you that he simply gives up

So he just smiles at your content and announces that he needs to go, that he will get some things ready for tomorrow

But he doesn't

He tells you that there was an accident on the road, that he was suddenly required on his work, or that there was a family emergency

Something happened, and he couldn't make it to your wedding

And upon seeing your smile on the photos, he's glad he didn't

Hueningkai

The moment you tell him you're getting married, he is volunteering to help you in anything and everything

He is there when you choose your clothes for the day

He finds the best florist in town

He helps you decide on the cake, on the place, on the date, everything

Because he knows this is the last time you'll be relying on him for help

From now on, your soon to be husband will be the one who is supposed to be by your side

Till death do you apart

And as much as it hurts, Kai won't let the sorrow be on the way

If he has this last opportunity to help you and be with you, that's precisely what he'll do

So when the big day ends up being more beautiful than your dreams

And both you and your now husband come to him to thank him

He can't help but smile through teary eyes, which he reassures you that it's because of happiness

Now he knows that he at least tried his best until the end

Masterlist | you'll probably like: moving on

Reminder this is just fiction!! I'm not trying to portray real life and you shouldn't believe that this is how the members actually are. This is just for the vibe and the delulu!

Thank you for reading <3

Taglist (open!): @yuyubeans @zzzzzwicked @sheraayasherrecs

Dividers by @enchanthings | images 1 , 2 and 3

[coopers-hand]

your 6H and how you find comfort

TLDR: our 6H is responsible for our day to day lives, including our habits and routine. one thing about those is that through these repetitive actions people find the sense of familiarity, stability and comfort. the position of the ruler of this house will show you areas through which you may find this comfort❤️‍🩹 to gain more insight, look at the signs of both 6H and it’s ruler, as well as to your Moon and virgo-pisces axis! ٩(^‿^)۶

~ the position of your 6H ruler and how you find your sense of comfort

1H: pampering oneself, being pretty and comfy, and being well fed and having walked on their little walk, and their skin is moisturized and their nails are groomed — these people need to take care of themselves and their own body to feel comforted🍃

2H: those people may be the type of ppl that have their emotional support stuffed animal, or sweater, or coffee mug — anything, actually, that they can hold and touch and that has some physical weight to it. they may sleep with plushies and wear the same mittens their mom knitted for them centuries ago🧶☕️

3H: escaping to the books, movies, series, etc. — these ppl find the most comfort in stories and ways people share their thoughts with the world ✏️ so they may have their comfort piece of media that they keep coming back again and again

4H: sense of comfort is brought through the feeling of home and passed childhood. the perfume of their mother? that one sandwich they’ve been eating since they turned 5? that one pair of socks knitted by their grandma? you tell me 🥹 || I have my 6H ruler in here, and I find comfort in eating the same breakfast my mom was cooking for me when I was at school, so yeah…

5H: hobbies!! those people may be the ones that have been doing the same thing since childhood, like they’ve always been drawing with crayons, or collecting stickers, or crafting, or making little silly songs with their old electronic piano. they may find comfort in their old creative supplies, in their ancient watercolors they bought like in 7th grade, or in that one song that makes they soul dance itself out

6H: regime!! those people need to have their own familiar structure of life, even if this structure doesn’t make sense for everybody else. they need their morning walks, they need their sunday movie nights with that one person, they need to do this exact type of exercise bc it’s important for them and only they will get it.

7H: those people are about lifelong relationships, they may be one of the most devoted partners you can find. they find comfort in people they’ve been with since forever, they are feeling sure and good and comfy around their best friend that they’ve known for 20 years, that they’ve grown up with and that they share almost all of their life experiences with👭

8H: those people need their alone time. they need their sacred space, their little castle that nobody can invade and make them put on a human suit again. they find comfort in knowing that there’s completely no one around so that they can be so much and unapologetically alone and themselves.

9H: those people are the greatest optimists, that will not let the humanity destruct itself in the storm of hate and pessimism. those people always know that there’s hope, that the world is a good place to be in, that there’s joy and love and laughter and cool people and also little animals and big animals and flowers and so much more!! I love them so much omg sorry but those people literally save the world by finding their own sense of comfort😭

10H: another type of people that need the structure, but, on the contrary with 6H fellas, this is kind of an external structure. it may be a literal social institute that provides them with it (e.g. school, work, gym membership, language clubs??), or a kind of style of living that they accept to follow. those people may find comfort in knowing that they have their life together, in knowing what will happen tomorrow🏹

11H: those people crave the sense of belonging. they need to know that they are not alone in this world, that there’s at least another person on Earth that can say ‘hey! im here! I know how you feel’. the greatest sense of comfort for those people is knowing that they are understood.

12H: hello my lovely existentialists 🥰 for these people comfort may look like something unattainable, bc they are prone to existential dread every working day and holidays included. however, the sense of comfort is attained through daydreaming, sleeping and meditating — and also other 1000000 things that can be linked to sleep. I also have noticed that those people may need more sleep than others to stay healthy. so, remember — it’s not that the world hates you, maybe you just had very little sleep in the night💤

[chuluoyi]

UNHOLY MATRIMONY — 07

✩°｡ ⋆ love unspoken

- fushiguro megumi x oc/reader - oc/reader's character name is hara sena, pronouns still refer to “you” and i won’t mention it often—just for the sake of aesthetic rather than repeatedly writing "y/n"

in another life, in which fate is still screwing his life over, Fushiguro Megumi finds himself in an arranged marriage―with you.

genre/warnings: arranged marriage au, gojo cameo, jealous!megumi

notes: ladies and gentlemen, it’s with great pleasure to tell you that another drama is about to unfold after a one-week break :)

series masterlist | next. all falls down

Harajuku, Shibuya. The busiest ward in the city is the most lit spot to meet up with anyone. And the greatest place to hide in plain sight.

Gojo Satoru, suave and neat in his casual shirt with that distinctive sunglasses, undoubtedly drew the eyes of many. He appraised you from head to toe, from your curled hair to your blue floral sundress, and then let out a chuckle.

"Well, well… Look at you. Now quite happily married, eh?"

You regarded him with a furrowed brow. "It's been a while, Gojo-san."

"How's it going? No regrets, I hope? You look absolutely stunning, so I'd assume not."

This isn't a good idea, you lamented internally. You shouldn't have agreed when he asked to meet at this popular bakery in Harajuku.

After Megumi's more or less confession on that morning, you immediately contacted Gojo, because in the end, he was the only one who actually could help you and Megumi.

You cleared your throat. "Megumi treats me well, yes."

"As I expected of someone I raised," Gojo proudly quipped with a proud smirk on his face.

You remembered the night following that fateful morning a week ago. Megumi told you that he was this close to finding someone who might be able to break his sister's curse.

“A curse-breaker, also a jujutsu sorcerer,” Megumi explained. “She possesses a nullifying technique capable of canceling all curses. Perhaps she can help to free Tsumiki as well.”

A beam bloomed on your face upon his explanation. "That's great! Like, if she can cancel the curse, there's a high chance for her to recover right?"

"Should be... I've got to meet up with her first though. So far, I'm still using the Zen'in name to contact her." He had this look of being deep in thought briefly before fixing his gaze on you. “Well, I just want you to meet Tsumiki soon.”

The fact that he wanted you to meet his remaining family filled you with joy. "You never talk about her much. Tell me more."

"She's exceptionally kind. In short, she is different from me." His emerald eyes crinkled a bit, seemingly remembering a fond memory. "She is against cruelty, even though there were many people who weren't nice to us."

"For as long as I can remember, it's only been Tsumiki and me," Megumi proceeded to add, as if sensing your curious stare. "Gojo-sensei is there too but I can't say he's my father now, can I?"

No, Gojo is more like his benefactor, and with his sister cursed, Megumi is essentially alone. Your smile fell a bit at that.

It was strange, you did feel sympathy for Megumi before, but now that you had acknowledged that you were in love with him—and even more now that he also made it clear that he felt the same, the thought of him being alone sent needles to your heart.

"Don't make that face," he retorted and you glanced at him. "I'm fine now. It was not that bad."

He then went after your hair and messed it up, making you scrunch your face in faux indignation.

Before you even realized it, you were down bad for him. You didn't want to see him get hurt or upset, and ultimately, you wanted to stay by his side for as long as possible. And that was what hurt the most, because you didn't know how long this could go on.

That was why now you were facing this six-eyed devil once again.

"Gojo-san," you exhaled. You didn't come here just to let him mess with you. "With what I've heard, the first hearing went well. The second one will be held soon. You… will be there, right?"

He let out a thoughtful hum. "Well, if I don't have any missions lined up, then sure."

"Please treat it more seriously. You know how they wouldn't dare to touch him with your presence alone."

"Oh, it seems you've forgotten already," Gojo remarked with a snort as he plucked a mini tart and popped it into his mouth. "That should be your part, Sena-chan. I'm just here to assist."

You clicked your tongue in irritation. "My point exactly. I'm asking you to provide your assistance."

You couldn't really believe him. He had said it himself—he had raised Megumi. Why wasn't he slightly bothered at all?

"You know, you're really cunning now that I thought about it," he blurted, mouth still stuffed full, as if mocking you altogether. "You're playing him like a puppet just to fulfill your goals."

"Don't act like you don't have your own agenda too." You bite back your anger, disregarding his comment. Apparently, true to many rumors about Gojo you had heard, this man was truly infuriating. "You want control over Zen'in. That was why you agreed to my proposition in the first place. You're using Megumi too."

"Are you really in mourning?" Gojo fixed his gaze on you, his clear blue eyes seemed to shimmer. "Barely a month after your mother's passing and you are instigating another bloodbath without knowing the consequences."

You felt your breath hitch at the blunt words. Something inside you snapped at his mention of your mother, and you bit your lower lip, willing your tears at bay.

Gojo's mouth was split into this rather manic grin, satisfied at how he managed to make you clam up. He wiped his mouth with a napkin. "Crankiness doesn't suit you, Sena-chan. And you don't have to worry if I will be there, because as you put it yourself, I do have my reasons."

But now your mind was pulled elsewhere. "Did you know something about who murdered my mother?"

"No. But she wasn't even a sorcerer. Who would target her? Someone who pins a mark on you would."

"Zen'in Naoya..." You gasped at the realization. He was the first person you should look into, how could you overlook it?

"Nah, but that's jumping too early," Gojo huffed. "You can't just come with nothing and accuse him of murder. Naoya would have your head before Megumi's."

"But he—!"

"Keep your eyes forward, Sena." Gojo's voice dropped, nearly sending a shiver down your spine. This sensation felt familiar to you, you could have sworn you have gone through this washed up terror before.

Your father's warning words. The way you would lower your forehead to the dirt ground, asking him for permission only to be told to remember your place.

Gojo Satoru was this era's strongest sorcerer, and now he was staring you down as if you were the stupidest person he knew. "I see through you. You can't run away from this. Not anymore."

And his smirk made you flinch.

"Not when Megumi is involved. Figuratively and literally speaking, you can't do that."

You shuddered this time, as what he said sank into your core. Figuratively and literally was the cold truth, incorporated in your binding vow, and not for the first time, you truly feared what and where this would lead to.

Perhaps sensing your silence as petrification—which wasn't far off the mark, brutally speaking—Gojo threw his hands in the air and barked a sardonic laugh to ease the tension. "Well, you've got me. Don't stress too much about him. Worry about your actions more."

"I'm doing this for him as well, you know," you snapped. "All of this, now I'm doing this all for him too, not solely for myself anymore."

Megumi was now so close to breaking Tsumiki's curse. As much as the prospect of him becoming the Zen'in clan head wasn't appealing at the slightest, that vile name was still useful and you could worry about that later.

Gojo released a derisive snort. "Is that so? Then, what's still in it for you?"

You looked at him with blind determination.

"I'm going to destroy Zen'in Naoya by taking away the one thing he covets the most."

Megumi thought it was going to be an ordinary day. As ordinary as meeting someone new would be, at least.

He was meeting up with a woman by the name of Kurusu Hana to discuss the possibility of curing his sister in Shibuya. At first she was acting fine, he was certain of that.

"Zen'in, right?" her voice sounded hesitant. He snapped his head towards her, and nodded. She promptly took a seat before him in this high-end cafe. She seemed nice, and he was convinced after she introduced herself.

"Let me introduce myself first. I'm Kurusu Hana, it's a pleasure to meet you, Zen'in-san."

"Oh, that... actually—" He never rectified it in their calls, but it felt wrong if he didn't disclose it to her now. "I'm not actually a Zen'in—please call me Fushiguro. Fushiguro Megumi."

"Fushiguro... Megumi...?"

That's when he noticed a sudden shift in Hana's gait. It occurred to him that she might be not as cooperative now after knowing that he was a not true-born Zen'in. However, this theory didn't align with her behavior, as she continued to respond to his inquiries and displayed genuine interest in Tsumiki's condition.

"Uh—oh, so it's been nine years..." she mumbled, lost in thought. "A curse as profound as that is not easily undone." Hana briefly met his eyes, then quickly looked away, a shy expression crossing her face.

If he were honest, her demeanor made him uncomfortable. He saw that kind of expressions on you, and you looked adorable, whereas she... was not. Well, might be because he definitely wasn't remotely attracted to her.

"Can it be reversed somehow?" he asked curtly.

"In theory, there's a chance. Possibly 40% actually," Hana responded, though her tone lacked the firmness he would have preferred to hear. "A curse residing that long in a human's body have... ingrained into the body itself, so it's not going to be as simple as exorcising newly-planted curses."

Megumi knew it wouldn't be easy, but hearing it firsthand was undeniably disheartening. "I see... Is there something that I—or you—can do?"

"I can attempt to break it, but the cost of it failing would mean the vessel’s immediate death."

He took a sharp intake of breath at that, his chest feelings suddenly tight.

Why was this world so unforgiving to kind people like Tsumiki and your mother? They hadn't done anything wrong, so why did they have to bear such heavy curses?

It was hard, but stalling any longer still meant Tsumiki’s impending death, so he decided to go through with the idea.

Hana would do enchantments for three weeks straight as a preparation to lift the curse from Tsumiki's body. And Megumi would be there to keep watch. Ah, he was thinking he could bring you too to switch with him if needed.

Wrapping the discussion up, he expressed his gratitude to Hana and prepared to take is leave. However, she halted him with a hesitant look.

"We have met before." She looked at him with such a hopeful expression it was jarring. "D-Do you... remember me?"

To him, what she said sounded like the peak of absurdity, and so he blurted the first thing that crossed his mind. "No, we have not."

"But..."

Megumi wanted to argue but then noticed something peculiar out of the corner of his eye. Through the glass panel of the quaint cafe, he could see the establishment next door that just happened to be where you and Gojo were.

Wait, you and Gojo-sensei?

"You saved my life!" Hana exclaimed, her raised voice shattered his thoughts and drew the attention of nearby diners. "You had two dogs with you—they led me out safely. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't have made it until today."

There were many things on Megumi's mind then. It took him a few seconds to discern her words as his eyes flickered again to where you were, and this time he saw you getting up from your seat and grabbing your purse.

And how Gojo seized your arm, pulling you roughly enough that you stumbled back a couple of steps.

Megumi saw red.

"I don't remember."

He knew it was his irritation speaking. He shouldn't have brushed her off like that, especially since he was the one in need of her help, but an overwhelming urge to stride over to where you were surged within him, and Hana's insistence was starting to grate on his nerves.

"I'm sorry, but I need to go." He completely missed Hana's crestfallen face as he fixed his gaze on you. "Thank you. I'll be seeing you again soon. Will contact you later."

He marched towards where both you and Gojo were, forcefully yanking the door that it caused the bells to ring with such intensity that it startled the girls waiting in line for pastries. That was when he realized that this fancy place was the one that required reservation before you could have a seat here.

Was it Gojo? Or you?

In any case, it appeared that both of you had finally become aware of his presence. You whirled to face him, wrenching your hand off Gojo's grasp.

"Megumi." Your voice came in a tense gasp. "What are you doing here?"

In sharp contrast to you, Gojo Satoru was jolly and didn't seem to care if he had just manhandled another man's wife. "Yoo, Megumi! It's been a while!"

It was as if every wire in his body had switched to autopilot. He remained expressionless, but he swiftly grasped your hand and pulled you to his side.

"I'm the one who should be asking you." His voice carrying a hard edge as he turned to you. "What are you doing here with him, of all people?"

"Booo, Megumi, you wound me! It's not like I would do anything to Sena-chan—"

Gojo's familiarity with you seemed to irritate him even further as he shot him a warning look. "Shut up, you're annoying," he said, lacing his fingers with yours and glancing at you from the corner of his eye. "We're going home."

The three of you—or rather, Megumi—definitely had made a debacle that onlookers were left with gaped expressions. He scowled and passed by them, maintaining a firm grip on your hand.

Gojo couldn't suppress an amused smile. "Well, well, Megumi-kun... Look at how much you've grown up."

Kurusu Hana was in love with Fushiguro Megumi.

She had convinced herself of that fact somehow, going as far as thinking of him as her destined one.

On a harsh snowy day, when she was teetering on the brink of certain death, a fluffy dog suddenly barked at her and indicated the path to safety. She recalled crawling on her hands and knees, following the white dog, until she felt the warm touch of local police guiding her to a secure location, away from menacing curses. She also remembered how the dog had dashed toward a boy who promptly patted it on the head. The boy, whose name she would later learn as Fushiguro Megumi, looked at her with a straight face, before a smile slowly spread across his lips.

She really didn't expect that she would really meet him again. More than ten years had passed by, and yet she still held that boy close and dear to her heart. Her savior.

Meeting him again this time was, of course, fate, or at least that was what she thought. She was about to erupt with euphoria… until he didn’t acknowledge her and left to catch another woman, pulling her along in a display of possession.

She was heartbroken. Maybe it was her fault too for keeping this love unspoken for as long as she did. But then again, how would she even speak it out loud? She never got the chance.

The way this encounter had played out and that she had seen him firsthand with a woman who clearly had his affections made her realize that there might not be a chance for her after all. Hana felt disheartened once more. But her spirits were consoled somewhat as she reminded herself that, from now on, she would be in contact with Megumi regularly due to her involvement in breaking his sister's curse.

It’s okay… Even if she couldn't have him, she could still admire and be near him.

That… should be enough.

next : all falls down

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[chrisevansonly]

𝐋𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐛𝐲 𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲 | 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐒𝐭𝐲𝐥𝐞𝐬

ღ harry styles x female reader

ღ if there is one thing your baby boy loves in all of this world, and it’s when his daddy sings him to sleep…

ღ very fluffy and soft dad! harry styles

ღ just another little dad!harry piece, im slowly getting motivation back to write, so i hope to be more productive and active now <3

It was no secret to anyone in your lives at just how much of a daddy’s boy your 2 month old son Ollie was, the newborn knew instantly when he was in his fathers arm, and most days if it was anyone else’s we wouldn’t have it. Harry loved Ollie with his entire being, there was no greater joy in life than being a father and being married to you: his two greatest loves.

For a two month old he was fairly quiet, bedtime was usually easy enough for both you and Harry but the odd time it proved to be rather difficult, especially when there were no lullabies as part of Ollie’s night routine. Let’s get one thing straight, you could sing him lullabies, but nothing, and I mean nothing would ever beat Harry’s, you knew that, and little Ollie knew that too.

“My little Ollie bear, shhh daddy will be home soon, mummy promises….shhhh”

You were bouncing gently around the room, little sobs escaping your baby boys mouth, he knew his daddy wasn’t there, and you could only frown and rock the little one hoping Harry would be back from the store soon.

“My little love, it’s okay….”

When Ollie cried, he could cry, his lungs were in perfect shape there was no doubt about it. It also helped because as soon as Harry got home he was quick to leave the bags on the kitchen counter, taking two steps at a time up to your shared bedroom, a bit of a frantic look on his face

“M’sorry traffic was bad, what happened, s’he alright?”

Smiling tiredly you shook your head

“He’s alright, just fussy because his daddy isn’t singing to him”

You watched his shoulders relax slightly as he smile apologetically to you, leaning down to kiss you softly before taking Ollie from you

“Poor mummy huh? Giving her a hard time…? S’cause daddy’s a better singer huh?”

Ollie had begun to quiet down instantly, earning a light smack to Harry’s bicep from you as you rolled your eyes playfully

“I’ll go put the food away, thank you baby”

Smiling Harry kissed you once more before going to sit in the rocking chair that rested beside the french doors in the far end of your room, the sunsetting over the English countryside

“There we go, time for bed now my love”

Harry was quick to pull out the soft grey blanket you kept in a basket beside the rocking chair, covering Ollie with it before he began to sing softly

“Baby mine, don’t you cry, baby mine, dry your eyes, rest your head close to my heart, never to part, baby of mine”

Harry watched as Ollie’s eyes began to flutter closed, his tiny hand holding onto the string of his pleasing hoodie in a grip to ensure his father wouldn’t move.

“Little one when you play, don’t you mind what you say, let those eyes sparkle and shine, never a tear, baby of mine..”

Humming softly to finish off the lullaby, he waited until he could hear the little baby snores Ollie made, letting him know he was finally asleep. Pressing a few soft kisses to his cheeks, Harry lay him down in his bassinet, placed on your side of the bed for night feedings. Silently hoping he’d stay asleep as he put him down, waiting a few moments before turning the monitor on and making his way to find you.

“Did he go down okay?”

“Like a charm”

You smiled wrapping your arms around his torso

“What would we do if we both sucked at singing?”

Harry laughed

“You don’t suck, he just prefers me that’s all”

“You’ve heard me in the shower….”

“Okay so your tune could use a little work….”

It was your turn to laugh as you shook your head, kissing his stubble covered chin

“I love you H, thank you for always coming to the rescue”

“For you and Ollie, i’ll always come to rescue.”

[thyras]

→ of the shadows

PAIRING → mairon | sauron x female!elf!reader

WORD COUNT → 7.3k words

SERIES → of sauron & the moriquendi

WARNINGS → mind manipulation, shape-shifting, morgoth loves playing with his food, arguments, lies, secrets, sauron reveal

SUMMARY → the shadow has come for mairon, and he will do anything to get him back into his clutches.

AUTHORS NOTE → welp mairon lovers i am so sorry but this is it for mairon, and then we'll get into the ROP story line. this was tough to write and to edit because I wanted change it so much but this is it I'm washing my hands of it lol enjoy guys, gals, and my nonbinary pals ❤️

PARTS → one // two // three // five

In the years that followed, joy blossomed in your heart, mirrored by the flourishing of Laureandor. The city grew in grandeur, its shimmering white towers reaching ever higher, its vibrant beauty drawing kin from across Beleriand. The songs of your people filled the air, and the harmony of life seemed woven into the very fabric of the land.

Your husband’s renown spread far and wide, his craftsmanship celebrated by elves across the land. His name carried with it reverence and admiration, and you could see the pride that glimmered in his eyes each time his work was praised. It was a pride tempered by joy, for he found his greatest contentment not in his fame, but in the life you had built together.

The light that radiated from him was otherworldly, a beacon that seemed to grow brighter with each passing day. In this life, he was truly happy—content not only with his craft and his accomplishments but with the bond you shared. Each night, he showed you just how much you meant to him, his gestures filled with tenderness and reverence. Even showing you in the very glades that had first drawn you together, under the canopy of stars and moonlight, where your love seemed to echo in the timeless harmony of the world. There, in the quiet beauty of those moments, the bond between you only deepened, as unyielding and eternal as the light that now shone from him.

On this day, you had just finished your lesson with the children by the water’s edge, their laughter and playful shouts fading into the woods as they raced back toward the city limits. The peaceful moment lingered briefly, the gentle ripples of the water reflecting the dappled sunlight. But then, from the corner of your eye, you saw him—a stranger emerging from the northern edge of the forest.

His hair was as dark as the deepest shadow, and his eyes, piercing and unrelenting, seemed to hold the weight of an abyss. A chill crept over your skin, the once-familiar warmth of the glade now feeling distant and hollow. Your heart quickened as unease settled deep in your chest.

Quickly, you gathered your belongings, clutching them tightly as you moved toward the forest’s edge, your steps measured but urgent. Every instinct within you screamed with alarm as the figure continued his approach, his presence carrying an unsettling weight that seemed to darken the very air around him.

“You are of this grand city?” he asked, his voice low and measured, carrying an eerie calm that sent ripples of unease through you. You turned away from him, shaking your head quickly, and took another step toward the woods, trying to put distance between yourself and the unsettling figure. But the shadow of his presence seemed to grow heavier, drawing closer as though it had a will of its own.

A soft chuckle escaped his lips, a sound that clashed unnervingly with the brightness of the glade. It sent another chill down your spine, the darkness of his being like a blot against the light. “You are not a very good liar, my lady,” he said, stepping closer still. His hand reached out as if to touch you, but you flinched back instinctively, your breath quickening.

“I forget myself,” he murmured, pulling his hand back with a ghost of a smile.

Your mouth refused to form a reply, the words caught in your throat as your eyes traced over his face. It was almost too perfect, too fair to belong to someone real. His features seemed carved from shadow and moonlight, and he stood tall, his commanding stance exuding an unnatural presence. He must be something in disguise, you thought, a being cloaked in a form meant to deceive.

The shadow of the Northern Realms.

“I am no deceiver,” he said smoothly, his voice cutting through the air like a blade, as though he had plucked the thought directly from your mind.

“Then why do you feel as such?” you managed, your voice steadier than you expected, though the unease within you remained.

“Because you have felt the touch of one,” he replied, his tone calm yet heavy with meaning. His hand lifted, reaching out toward you as if to cup your chin, but you instinctively moved away, the shadow of his words and presence tugging at the edges of your fëa. “Its dark web is deeply embedded in your being, a mark that cannot be hidden.”

You stepped back further, your heart pounding as his piercing gaze followed your every movement, unyielding and unnervingly knowing. Those eyes bore into you, sharp and calculating, like a predator assessing its prey. “It calls to me,” The being murmured, his voice low and chilling, “much like the light calls to you.” His presence loomed closer, his figure towering over you as his hand finally grasped your chin with an almost unnatural grace.

“You truly walk with her light,” he said, his gaze unwavering, “and her beauty.” His thumb, cold and unfeeling, brushed against your bottom lip, the sensation sending a shiver through you.

“But you have been deceived,” he continued, his tone soft but laced with dark certainty, “by the one they will call the Great Deceiver.” His words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating, as if they carried the weight of truth. You swallowed hard as his fingers moved with deliberate care, wrapping a strand of your hair around his finger as though it were a precious thread. His dark eyes locked onto yours, penetrating, as if they could peel back every layer of your thoughts and emotions. “You desire something,” he breathed, his voice so soft it felt like a whisper against your very soul. Tears welled in your eyes, unbidden and unstoppable, as if this being had summoned them from the depths of your heart.

A dark smile curled at his lips, sharp and cruel. “An act of creation,” he mused, his tone almost mocking. “So pure, much like Thingol and Melian. But that,” he continued, his voice dipping lower, “is not your destiny. Nor will you ever taste that pleasure.”

You stood frozen, paralyzed beneath his gaze, your body unable to respond to the storm raging within you. He leaned in, his movements slow and deliberate, and his cold lips pressed against your forehead. The touch sent a wave of heaviness through your limbs, and your eyes drooped as though under a spell.

Before you could resist or even understand, darkness took you, and your body collapsed into the soft glade, the world around you fading into nothingness.

When you awoke, the familiar comfort of your warm linen sheets surrounded you, cocooning you in a sense of security you hadn’t felt in what seemed like an eternity. Expecting to see Mairon’s familiar form beside you, your heart sank when your gaze fell instead upon Eärlindë, seated at your bedside, her face etched with concern. Across the room, Eäriel stood by the desk, her skilled hands deftly preparing another salve—no doubt for your recovery.

“Mother,” Eärlindë called softly, her voice tinged with relief as she noticed your eyes flutter open. She leaned forward, taking your hand gently in hers as though grounding you to the present. “Easy, Tintilmë,” she murmured, her tone soothing yet firm. “You are still weak.”

You tried to speak, but your throat was parched, your voice nothing more than a faint rasp. Frustration bubbled within you as your body refused to cooperate. You struggled to sit up, your mind grasping for words that refused to come.

Memories eluded you, slipping through your grasp like shadows cast over the corners of your mind. You had no recollection of where you had been for most of the day, nor how you had come to be here. The fragments of time that had been stolen from you left an aching void, a silent echo that had even taken your voice.

“We were all so worried,” Eärlindë said softly, her fingers cool and soothing as they brushed across your forehead, offering you a fleeting moment of calm amidst the storm of confusion. Her touch grounded you, but the questions swirling in your mind refused to settle.

“What happened? Where’s—” you began, your voice cracking, but Eäriel stepped forward now, moving to the edge of the bed. She sat down with an air of quiet authority, her hands deftly working to rub a salve onto your wrist, where a faint burn marked your skin.

“What is the last thing you remember?” she asked, her tone heavy with concern.

You shook your head slowly, frustration bubbling up as the shadows swirled over the fragmented pieces of your memory. “I think I was heading to the stream,” you said haltingly, tears slipping unbidden down your cheeks. “But I do not remember.” You clenched the sheets in your fists, overwhelmed by the emptiness in your mind. “Why do I not remember? Where’s Mairon—”

Eäriel placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, silencing your rising panic. “He is talking with the High Lords, but you need to rest,” she said gently, her voice firm as she stood once more.

“I want to know,” you insisted, your voice trembling with anger now. Their unwillingness to tell you only fanned the flames of your frustration. “I deserve to know.”

“Mother, she does have a right to know,” Eärlindë interjected, her eyes narrowing as she looked at Eäriel. There was a brief pause before Eäriel sighed deeply and turned back to you, her expression resigned.

“You never made it to your lessons that day,” she began, her voice steady but filled with a quiet gravity. “One of the parents enquired with Mairon, who then came to us and asked where you had gone.” You stared at her, fear creeping into your chest as her words sank in. “Over the course of four days, we searched for you,” Eäriel continued, “but Mairon kept searching on his own. On the sixth day, he found you.”

Her gaze flickered with something you couldn’t place—worry, perhaps, or even unease. “He would not say where or in what state you were when he brought you here. Only that if you awoke while he was gone, we were to tell you nothing.”

Her words struck you like a blow, leaving you reeling. “Why?” you whispered, your voice trembling. “Why would he not want me to know?”

“That is for him to tell you, child,” Eäriel said gently, her tone leaving no room for argument. “Now, get some rest. We will be downstairs.” She motioned to Eärlindë, who hesitated for a moment before obeying, her worried gaze lingering on you as she followed her mother out of the room.

Left alone, you sank back into the soft feathered pillows of your bed. Your mind ached, the unanswered questions swirling relentlessly, pulling at the edges of your thoughts. Yet exhaustion weighed heavily on you, and despite the turmoil in your heart, your body surrendered. Slowly, the world around you faded, and you slipped into the quiet embrace of dreams, the shadows of your lost memories hovering just out of reach.

Mairon opened the door to your shared room, his sharp eyes immediately falling upon your resting form. Relief washed over him as he saw that you were still asleep, your chest rising and falling steadily with each breath. His mortal body ached to hold you, to comfort you in his arms and shield you from the horrors that had touched you. But the fire of his godly nature simmered beneath the surface, craving a fight, an outlet for the fury coursing through him.

This had his master’s hand written all over it. The bitter taste of the darkness was unmistakable, clinging to the air, shrouding you like a heavy, malevolent blanket. It coiled around you, obscuring any trace of memory from the encounter, as if designed to torment Mairon with the unknown. His fists clenched at his sides, the restraint it took to keep from unleashing his anger palpable in the tense line of his frame.

The message was clear. Very clear, in fact. Whatever had once occupied Melkor’s attention was no longer of interest. That focus had shifted now, entirely, to him. This was a reminder—a cruel and deliberate act to show Mairon that his master’s desire to break him had not faded. It was a call to submission, laced with malice and intent.

Mairon’s jaw tightened, his gaze lingering on you as the rage burned hotter within him. But he forced himself to stay silent, to suppress the fire, knowing that the moment was not his to act but to protect. His resolve steeled, he moved quietly to your bedside, his presence casting a soft shadow over you as he watched, waiting for the storm to pass. 

He reached out, his fingers brushing gently against your soft strands, tucking them away from your face. The simple touch grounded him, even as the storm within raged on. He relished the sight of you, so peaceful in your slumber, your expression untouched by the weight of the waking world.

Each time he watched you sleep, he wondered what dreams wove through your mind. He often imagined them—beautiful, vibrant, filled with the life you had built together. He found himself yearning for sleep, not out of weariness, but so that he might join you there, in that dreamscape you unknowingly shared.

In your dreams, you had a family—a place of laughter, warmth, and belonging. A perfect life, untouched by shadow, filled with the beauty you carried in your heart. It was a life he could never give you.

The thought pierced him deeply, even as he tried to bury it. He ached for it with every part of his being, a longing so profound it nearly overwhelmed him. Yet, he could not let himself hope for it, for he knew the weight of what he carried. Instead, he let the ache settle within him, his gaze soft as he watched you sleep, imagining for a moment that the dreams were real.

Even though they were only part of an intricately woven lie. A lie so convincing that even he had begun to believe it.

For the Great Deceiver had, in the end, deceived even himself.

Mairon sighed, his chest heavy with the weight of his fury and helplessness, and moved to take your hand. His fingers worked delicately as he uncovered the wrap on your wrist. The moment the mark was revealed, his anger surged, a fire burning deep within him. His fingers traced the darkened imprint, and a cold, sharp sensation shot up his arm, the darkness embedded there biting at his very being.

“I hold her in my clutches now, weakling,” his master’s voice slithered through the air, as if carried on an unseen wind. The mocking tone cut deep, and Mairon’s jaw clenched, his teeth grinding as he resisted the urge to lash out at the phantom presence.

“Your time is up,” the voice taunted, dark and dripping with malice. “And so will hers be, if you continue living in this little fantasy of yours.”

The words lingered like a poison, their weight pressing down on him as he stared at the mark, a cruel reminder of the power still looming over him. His hand tightened slightly around yours, as if trying to anchor himself—and you—to the fragile hope he still held onto.

He had to tell you. While Melkor had no access to his mind still, he had to tell you of how he wished no longer to serve underneath the cruel Vala, how he regretted being seduced into turning away. Just how twisted with hurt he was knowing Melkor would burn this whole city down before Mairon could live here peacefully.

Mairon’s thoughts were abruptly silenced as your body twitched slightly, and your eyes fluttered open. He moved quickly, neatly covering the mark on your wrist, burying all thoughts of his master deep within him where they could not reach you. Your fingers, soft yet tentative, reached up to touch his face, your touch grounding him in the moment. His own hand moved gently to cradle your wrist, his lips pressing a tender kiss against it, as if he could somehow erase the harm it had endured.

“Husband,” you breathed, your voice hoarse but filled with relief.

“My sweet wife,” he replied, his voice steady yet laced with affection. “How are you feeling?”

A delicate smile graced your lips, faint but radiant. “I am well now that you are here,” you murmured, your words filling the space between you with warmth. Mairon smiled in return, leaning down to brush a gentle kiss against your lips. The tenderness lingered even as he pulled away, but the peace was short-lived.

The questions began—the ones he knew would come. Questions that pierced through the fragile calm, ones he was not yet ready to answer truthfully.

How could he shatter the image you had of him? How could he tell you that he was far from the name he carried, when names meant everything to your people? To reveal the truth would risk destroying the bond you shared, and that was a weight he was not ready to bear. Not yet.

Over the following days, you felt the growing chasm between you and your husband, each vague answer he offered widening the divide. Though you could see it plainly in his eyes—he knew exactly what had happened—he refused to share it with you. The weight of that unspoken truth bore down on both of you. Yet, you did not press him further; each attempt to broach the topic only seemed to stoke his temper and leave him more restless than before.

He threw himself into his work, spending his days at the forge with unrelenting focus. The nights, once filled with quiet moments of companionship, were now empty. He would return long after the moon had climbed high, slipping into the room only to sit at his desk, where he scratched furiously at his growing pile of parchment. The soft glow of the candlelight illuminated his tense shoulders and furrowed brow, but never reached the bed where you waited.

The bed was always cold. And now, so was your heart.

The warmth you had once felt from the chain around your neck and the ring on your finger—symbols of the love he had pledged to you—now felt like iron shackles, binding you to a man who seemed to have locked his heart away. A man who no longer seemed to want you. 

As you sat beneath the great tree where you had once pledged yourself to Mairon, your fingers turned the chain at your neck absently, your thoughts distant and heavy. You shifted your wrist into the moonlight, the faint mark there catching the pale glow. Some nights it seemed to fade, a dull ache lingering where it once burned fiercely. But on others, like tonight, it flared, pulsing with a fire that clawed at your resolve. A cool breeze brushed against your hair, bringing no solace as tears began to well in your eyes.

Everything felt so wrong now.

The shadows around you seemed alive, crawling across the ground, and the radiant glow you had once carried with pride seemed dimmed, dulled by the weight of grief and uncertainty. Was it the shadows themselves, or was it the grief? You could not tell, and the uncertainty gnawed at you.

“I hope I am not disturbing,” came a familiar voice from behind you. Startled, you turned to see Calandil approaching, his tall form illuminated softly in the moonlight. It had been many years since you last saw him—years that had carved new lines into both of your lives. Forgiveness was not easy, and with Calandil, it had felt like trying to mend an age-old wound. Yet, even as you wrestled with your feelings, you felt a flicker of something familiar, perhaps even comforting, at his presence.

“No,” you said softly, hastily wiping your tears away. “I just needed some air.”

Calandil nodded, his movements measured as he moved to sit beside you on the stone bench. The silence between you was heavy but not unwelcome, a shared quiet that seemed to acknowledge the weight both of you carried. You glanced at him, noticing the subtle weariness in his features—marks left by the battles he had fought in the North, where the shadow crept ever deeper into Beleriand with each passing day. Yet, there was a steadiness in him that you had not remembered, a calm amidst the turmoil.

And perhaps, in this moment, that steadiness was exactly what you needed.

“I heard what happened,” he said softly, his voice breaking the silence between you. “I wished to come at once—”

“Calandil,” you interrupted, his name slipping from your lips in almost a painful whisper.

“Y/n,” he replied, equally quiet, the usage of your birthname catching you by surprise. It had been so long since anyone had called you that, but the familiarity in his tone reassured you of his sincerity. He reached over, his hand moving to take yours in a gesture of comfort. But as the dark mark caught the moonlight, his eyes widened, his expression shifting from concern to alarm.

“Where did you get that?” he asked, his voice tinged with urgency. You instinctively tried to cover the mark with the sleeve of your robe, but his grip was firm as he gently but insistently pulled your wrist into the light.

“Tintilmë,” he murmured, his tone now grave, his eyes fixed on the mark. “This is no ordinary mark. When did you come into contact with a blade crafted by his hand?”

You stared at him, utterly perplexed. “What are you talking about?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly, unknowing of what he was even referring to. The confusion in your gaze only seemed to deepen his worry as he continued to study the mark, his expression darkening with every passing moment.

“Morgoth,” Calandil nearly snarled, his voice venomous. The name sent a shiver down your spine, as though some deeply buried part of you recognized its weight and darkness. Yet, the War had scarcely touched Laureandor, leaving you ignorant of its true meaning, shielded from its horrors.

You snatched your arm from his grasp, pulling the sleeve of your robe down to cover the mark once more. “Does he know?” he asked, pressing further.

“I do not know,” you replied curtly, your voice almost trembling with sorrow. “He does not entertain me anymore, too consumed with supplying you with his wondrous weapons, I assume.” He turned to face you fully, his expression severe, his piercing gaze rooting you in place.

“You need to leave here,” he breathed, his voice low but urgent. “Go far away from him.”

You looked up at Calandil, bewildered, your brow furrowing in confusion. “No,” you said sharply, standing abruptly and stepping away from him. “If this is a ploy to get me—”

Calandil silenced you with a raised hand, his frustration evident. “If he were truly the man he claimed to be, then he would not have lied to you,” he said with biting intensity. “He has deceived this city for centuries, and you most of all. He has blinded you, kept you ignorant for a reason.”

You stared at him, your expression shifting to suspicion and disbelief. Calandil’s hatred of Mairon was well known to you, but his open disdain felt unwarranted, uncalled for. “Tintilmë,” he said, his voice softer but still firm. “He is not the smith you think he is.”

Your fingers clutched at the skirts of your robes as you moved to leave, stopping briefly to glance back at him. “I thought we were behind this now, Calandil,” you said, your voice thick with hurt. “But I see you still envy him, still cling to your jealousy. He is who Eru destined for me, the one my fëa calls to. Can that not be enough for you?”

Calandil turned toward you, shaking his head in disbelief. “No,” he said, his tone heavy with anger and sorrow. “Not when he has likely manipulated you into believing those things, slithering his way into your mind to pull at your sweet, innocent heart for his own ends.”

Tears spilled down your cheeks as his words struck a deep, aching chord within you. Without another word, you turned and fled down the stone steps, your robes billowing behind you as you ran. You needed to escape—escape the voices, the feelings, the turmoil that now stirred in your soul like a storm you could not quiet. 

Mairon walked toward home after a long day at the forge, but his steps slowed and his sharp gaze became fixed on your retreating form as your velvet and silk robes billowed behind you, vanishing into the trees. His fists clenched tightly, his breath shallow as anger coursed through him like molten fire. He turned his attention to where you had come from, his eyes narrowing as they fell upon a lone figure sitting beneath the great tree.

Darkness crept up his fingertips, curling like smoke as his blood boiled. The very thought that someone had upset you so deeply ignited a rage within him that he could barely contain. Without hesitation, he started toward the figure, his movements deliberate and filled with purpose. Yet, as he drew nearer, a familiar unease washed over him. The tendrils of his master’s influence began to pull at him, wrapping around him like chains, dragging his thoughts into shadow.

His body tensed as the figure turned to face him. It was Calandil—or at least, it bore Calandil’s form. But the eyes… the eyes were not his. They gleamed with an unnatural light, dark and piercing, carrying the unmistakable presence of his master. Mairon’s steps faltered as his whole being screamed with dread, his instincts warning him of the danger that now stood before him.

“She’s beautiful, truly,” the figure said, the voice shifting, deepening, as Mairon moved closer. The tone was rich with mockery, the cadence of his master’s words unmistakable.

The form twisted subtly, Calandil’s features warping until the fair visage of Melkor stood before him, his presence radiating malice and authority. “That it brings me great joy,” his master continued, a cruel smile spreading across his face, “to taint that beauty.”

Mairon’s blood froze, the weight of his master’s words a brutal reminder of the shadow that threatened to consume everything he held dear. “Do you mock me?” Melkor asked, his voice sharp and venomous. “Do you mock our vision by falling for the spell of such a naive child?” The accusation lingered in the air, oppressive and suffocating. Mairon’s lips parted, but no words came. He did not know what to say, nor did he dare to speak lest his master’s wrath grow further.

“Speak!” Melkor roared, the sheer force of his voice reverberating through the courtyard. The sound sent a shudder through Mairon, his shoulders tensing as he flinched under the weight of that terrible command.

“No, master,” Mairon murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, as if the darkness itself sought to swallow the sound. He lowered his gaze, unwilling to meet the searing intensity of Melkor’s eyes.

Melkor began to circle him, his presence a black void that seemed to devour the very light around them. The soft silver glow of the great tree beside them faded, dimmed and consumed by the pull of his master’s malice. The air grew colder, heavier, as though the world itself recoiled from Melkor’s presence.

Mairon stood rigid, the fire within him warring against the oppressive weight of his master’s shadow, a battle he dared not reveal lest he be torn apart.

“You are a coward, Mairon,” Melkor hissed, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade. Mairon turned his face away, shame and defiance battling within him, but his master’s iron grip seized his chin and wrenched it upward. Forced to meet the searing gaze, Mairon saw the fire burning in Melkor’s eyes, an unrelenting furnace of malice and power.

There was no escape. He had known it from the beginning, but still, the faint glimmer of rebellion had lingered in his heart. Now, faced with his master, it felt foolish—a fragile hope crushed under the weight of an undeniable truth. To stop serving Melkor was to cease existing, and that, Mairon knew, was not a mercy his master would grant him.

“You will know great pain, my pet,” Melkor snarled, his voice dripping with cruelty. Mairon’s throat tightened as he swallowed hard, trying to suppress the tremor that threatened to betray him.

“For my mark is unhealable,” Melkor continued, his words deliberate, designed to wound, “and she will slowly fade into nothingness as long as you stay by her side.”

The words struck like a blow, shattering the fragile defenses Mairon had built. His master’s hold on him remained unyielding, the weight of his threat suffocating. He could feel the cruel satisfaction radiating from Melkor, his delight in delivering such a crushing blow almost tangible. Mairon’s chest heaved as he fought to keep his composure, even as his master’s promise echoed relentlessly in his mind. “I will take great joy,” Melkor hissed, his voice dripping with malice, “in razing this place to the ground, forcing you to watch as the people you’ve served so diligently are wiped from existence. Their cries will be a symphony to my ears.”

He leaned closer, his grip tightening as his words became more venomous. “Then I will take even greater pleasure in knowing that you will never know love again. Only the cold, unrelenting embrace of the darkness that forged you—the darkness that made you strong, that made you loyal.”

Melkor’s smile was cruel, his eyes blazing with the fire of his wrath. “I made you, Mairon. You are mine, a creation of my will and my power. And I can unmake you just as swiftly.”

His words carried the weight of an undeniable truth, one meant to crush any flicker of rebellion or hope. The shadow of his intent loomed heavy, choking the air and leaving no doubt of the punishment he was capable of inflicting. 

Mairon’s eyes burned as he fought back the tears that threatened to spill, yet a few escaped, tracing silent paths down his face. His spirit, once so unyielding, felt fractured, his heart shattered under the weight of his master’s cruelty. His mind wrestled with the torment of the choice now laid before him—a choice that would alter the very core of his being.

For centuries, he had labored in silence, trying to carve a path of repentance for the sins that haunted him. Just as he felt the glimmer of absolution within reach, the rug was torn from beneath his feet, plunging him back into the darkness. Yet, even in the suffocating grasp of despair, there was a light—you.

His entire fëa sang only for you, a melody that drowned out even the most tempting promises of dominion and power. No kingdom, no crafted dominion over the world, could ever compare to the feeling you gave him. Every fiber of his being, every thought and desire, was yours to mold and sculpt. He had no need for the grandiose visions of conquest his master offered; he had you.

You were his salvation, and he was yours. Bound by a love so profound it defied the shadow threatening to consume him. You were his light, and he was willing to risk everything to keep it from fading.

But to lose you would be his undoing. To ask you to fade slowly into one of Melkor’s grotesque forms, twisted and defiled beyond recognition, was unthinkable. It would be a betrayal of everything he cherished about you—your light, your kindness, your unwavering strength. He could not bear to imagine you living out the rest of your immortal days as a mere shadow of the splendor you were meant to embody.

He wished only to see you as you were now, in your radiant beauty—dancing in the glades with the children you so lovingly cared for, their laughter mingling with your own sweet, melodic joy. The sound of your voice warmed his heart in ways nothing else ever could, a reminder of the life he once dreamed of building with you.

If he were to love you forever, he would have to do so from the shadows. To protect you, he would need to retreat into the darkness once more, to covet you from afar. He would become the shadow that followed you, a specter of what might have been, blotting out his own light so that yours might endure. And in doing so, he would sacrifice what little happiness remained in his fractured existence.

“So, Mairon, what is your decision?” Melkor’s voice broke through the storm of his thoughts, cold and unrelenting. Mairon’s gaze lifted, meeting the dark, consuming eyes of his master. His chest tightened as the weight of the question bore down on him.

You turned at the sound of footsteps and saw your husband approaching, his stride slow, his expression burdened with an almost sorrowful weight. A gentle smile played on his lips as he came closer, his eyes momentarily softening when he realized where you were sitting—the very place where you had first met. You hastily wiped your tears, forcing a soft smile in return as you began to stand, but Mairon motioned for you to stay. He lowered himself beside you, pulling you gently into his arms.

His touch was familiar, but he felt colder than usual. The warmth that had always radiated from him, so steady and comforting, now seemed extinguished. You tilted your head up to look at him, studying his face. He seemed distant, his gaze unfocused, as though a great weight pressed on him, something he couldn’t yet bring himself to share.

“You can tell me,” you said softly, your voice filled with encouragement. His eyes flicked to yours, but the light that once shone there was absent, replaced by a cold shadow that sent a shiver through you. Your fëa ached at the sight, a wound that cut deeper than you could bear.

“Time will mend what is meant to be mended,” you said gently, your hand reaching up to rest against his cheek. “And what cannot be mended, we will endure together.” Your touch was light, tender, but he flinched away from it, and the rejection stung.

“You told me that, my sweet Mairon,” you reminded him softly, your voice tinged with a quiet desperation.

“Please, stop calling me that,” he finally said, his voice breaking as he spoke. His words hit you like a blow, and you sat up straighter, your heart twisting painfully in your chest. “Nothing will mend what I have done,” he said harshly, his eyes meeting yours with a dangerous intensity. The green of his gaze, once so vibrant and alive, was darkened now, almost unrecognizable.

“Mairon,” you whispered, your voice trembling as tears welled in your eyes. “What have I done to hurt you so?” Your words were soft, almost a whimper, laced with a sorrow you couldn’t hide.

But he didn’t answer. Instead, he moved to stand abruptly, stepping away from you as though your presence had become unbearable. Tears spilled silently down your cheeks as you sat there, your heart breaking at the growing chasm between you. “Please, husband, tell me,” you pleaded, your voice trembling with emotion. “I want to fix whatever I’ve done wrong. I need us to go back to—”

“You stupid, naive girl,” he snarled, his voice sharp and venomous as he whirled to face you. The words struck like a physical blow, and you reeled back, your breath catching in your throat. Mairon had never spoken to you like this, never raised his voice or degraded you. The man before you seemed like a stranger, a cold shadow of the one you loved.

“You really cannot see past your love-lorn looks and your childish view of love, can you?” he spat, his words dripping with disdain.

Tears welled in your eyes as you whispered, “You’re scaring me, Mairon.”

“Good,” he roared, his voice echoing with a fury that made you flinch. “I should.”

His words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating, leaving you frozen in place as the man you thought you knew unraveled before you. The warmth and tenderness that had once defined him seemed a distant memory, replaced by an anger that burned fiercely, threatening to consume you both. Gently, you took his hands in yours, your touch soft and steady, but he pulled them away with a sharp motion. “You are my husband,” you said firmly, your voice unwavering. “And I promised to love every inch of you, even those darker parts.”

He looked at you then, his expression unreadable, before a dark, humorless laugh escaped him. It was a sound that sent a shiver down your spine, so foreign and cold. “If only you knew what that meant, little one,” he said, his words cutting and bitter. “If only you knew what that truly entailed, you would have never agreed.”

“Try me,” you whispered, the words trembling yet resolute. Something shifted in him then, a visible change that made your breath hitch. The faint light within him seemed to flicker and vanish entirely, as though the night had descended and swallowed the last remnants of day. His gaze grew darker, deeper, like a well without a bottom.

“Tell me everything,” you urged softly. “Tell me who you are.”

A smile twisted onto his lips, a haunting expression that was both wistful and wicked, carrying a darkness that even the moonlight could not pierce. “I have walked this land,” he began, his voice taking on a chilling calmness, “since before you rose from the earth. Kept a watchful eye on your kind,” he continued, stepping closer, his presence overwhelming as his fingers moved to cup your chin. His dark eyes bored into yours, their pull undeniable, like a black hole drawing in every thought and emotion. “Reported back when needed, sowed seeds where I needed to, and stood ever mindful that one day I would hold dominion over this land.”

You swallowed hard, the weight of his words pressing down on your chest. “I once was Aulë’s greatest smith,” he said, his voice laced with bitter pride. “His most trusted confidant. Then I was shown a different path. One of order and purpose. One of darkness.”

You tried to pull away from his grasp, desperate to distance yourself from the truth unraveling before you. But even as you tried, the sweet, haunting melody deep within your soul called out to him at just his touch, binding you to him in ways you could not escape.

“Mairon,” you breathed, his name a pained whisper, as though speaking it might shatter the fragile connection between you.

“I am not the admirable man you think you married,” he said, his voice cracking under the weight of the confession. “I am—”

“You’re a shadow of the northern realm,” you interrupted, your voice trembling, your tears spilling freely as you uttered the words you had dreaded. “A servant of the Great Foe. You’re—Sauron.”

His eyes flickered, a momentary flash of something vulnerable and raw. He was stunned, not by your knowledge, but by the sound of his name spoken from your lips. It made his skin crawl, as though it defiled the love he still carried for you. That name was never meant for you, never meant to taint your light.

“You may have brought hurt to my kin,” you whimpered, your voice soft and trembling, “but I still love you.” The words came out as a desperate plea. “These centuries have been nothing but happiness, full of light. That light has always been there. You can walk away, Mairon. We can—”

“I cannot!” he yelled, the sound like a thunderclap, his voice a terrifying crescendo that made you flinch. His emerald eyes burned with an unrelenting fire, and his once angelic voice deepened into something monstrous, reverberating with a power that shook you to your core.

“He will not let me,” he said, his voice dropping to a low, trembling tone as tears glimmered in his eyes. “He has made that impossible now.”

The sorrow in his words, the sheer weight of his anguish, made your heart ache. “Then we will endure this together,” you repeated his words, your voice steady despite the ache in your chest.

“We cannot,” he replied, his tone more composed now, though sorrow still weighed heavily upon it. His hand moved to touch the darkening mark on your arm, his fingers lingering as though trying to will it away. “He has marked you—his final torment, the only way he knew to make me relinquish my light. If I were to stay, you would fade away into the darkness.”

Mairon’s hand moved to your cheek, his touch tender as his emerald eyes searched yours. “I cannot have that on my conscience. When Eru created me, he was too kind, gifting me such an accepting and gentle being to love. I do not know if it was out of mockery, but I can never taint what is so pure, Mori.”

You couldn’t bear his words, couldn’t let them tear this moment away. Urgently, you pulled him closer, pressing your lips to his, your arms wrapping tightly around his neck. He responded instinctively, his arms circling around you, holding you as if he feared letting go would break him entirely.

“Taint me,” you whispered fervently against his lips, your fingers caressing his soft, gentle skin. “Love me, even with your darkness, Mairon. There is no part of you I could not love. I was sung into being for you,” you cried, your voice trembling with emotion. “No matter what or who you will be, you are still my sweet, admirable, and gentle Mairon.”

He sighed, his breath warm as he rested his forehead against yours. “You are too good for me,” he murmured, his voice heavy with longing and guilt. “Too pure, too innocent.”

You giggled softly as he kissed your nose, playful and sweet, just as he always had. For a brief moment, the man you knew returned, and your heart soared. But his eyes darkened again with the weight of his decision. “If I am to love you, I must do it from afar. Because I could never live with myself if I took away your beauty and your light.”

“Mairon—” you began, desperation lacing your tone.

“I have to,” he interrupted gently but firmly. He pulled back, his hands trembling slightly as he removed the chain from around his neck. Carefully, he draped it around yours, the weight of the gesture filling the space between you with unspoken emotion.

“No matter the horrible, wretched things I will do,” he said, his voice steady but thick with pain, “you will be my light. My redemption. And in this jewel, I vow that one day, when all of this is over, it will be us. Just us. And I will give you the world, my beautiful Moriquendi.”

His words hung in the air like a promise, both fragile and eternal. You could feel the depth of his love, the impossibility of his struggle, and the inevitability of his choice. Your tears mingled with his as you clutched the chain, knowing that this moment, as painful as it was, held the weight of forever.

Mairon leaned in once more, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was achingly gentle, yet heavy with the longing for a day that might never come. It was a kiss that held all the love he could not put into words, all the promises he dared not speak aloud.

When he pulled back, his voice was soft, almost breaking as he spoke his parting words. “I love you,” he breathed against your lips, the warmth of his words lingering as his touch faded, leaving only a whisper of shadow behind.

“I love you too, my shadow,”

[just-a-carrot]

I'm not really in the mood to make a festive Happy New Year's post. So instead I'll just say... we made it. I made it. You made it. The year is over and we're still here. And that is enough.

It's no real secret by this point but 2024 has been one of the worst years of my life. From constant anxiety and panic attacks over job stability in the spring, to losing two family members, to the depressive spiral I entered after finishing OW, to the second spiral in the fall just when I thought maybe I was finally doing a bit better and everything came crashing back down, my mental health has been worse than it's ever been. And I've spent a lot more nights than I'd like to admit wishing I wouldn't wake up in the morning. (And downed a lot more sleeping pills than I'd like to admit because it's the only OTC thing I can get to mildly decrease my anxiety and help numb me a bit LOL)

I just want... this year to be over. Even though I have no hope for 2025 either and mostly just feel anxious and hopeless about it. But I will continue trying. Continuing grappling for the bits of joy that can keep me going. And maybe I finally will get a little bit of calm and peace. Who can say. I guess we'll see what 2025 decides to bring. I just really want to feel a bit better finally. And I hope that 2025 might take pity on me and allow me some mental respite.

2024 did have its moments of joy. Despite it sending me into the spiral, I am ofc glad that I finished OW finally this year. I consider it one of my greatest accomplishments. And I still can't believe that I put 3 whole years of work into this thing and just how much of my soul went into it. Even if my depression keeps trying to convince me that it (and me) are worthless.

I feel like I grew a lot in my art over the year. Trying new and more complex things. Getting better at composition and poses. Which led into my starting Broomtail, which gave me really the first renewed spark of creative joy since releasing the finale and actually made me excited to work on something again.

Speaking of joy amidst melancholy, DD2 was released this year, and it became the one thing that could keep me going at times. It brought me so much joy and inspiration when nothing else would. And it still holds my heart captive in its grip. From all the DD2 art I did, to the O2A2 game, to my silly tragic music video, to a very self-indulgent fanfic, it gave me so much creative energy, and I want to do more art for it in 2025 too! (And I'm still waiting for that DLC, Capcom...) I can't think of another game ever that's had this much of a hold on me before. Though I do attribute much of that to the fact that in my head it's mostly an OW AU since I could make Iggy and Genzou and play out their tragic love story and it was so beautiful and Genzou was so so sweet and cute GUH. Yeah... that helped a lot.

I think my main goal for 2025 is just to keep trying. To keep surviving. To keep trying to find hope and joy where I can. To believe that I can feel better and things can be better. Even when it's hard. And that hopefully... hopefully I will be able to find some peace in there finally.

I do have various projects I'd like to work on too. Like finishing the remaster, continuing Broomtail, maybe working on another game later on. But I'd rather just think of those as things I'd like to do for myself and because they bring me joy, rather than as any kind of goal or pressure. Especially since I never want to make any promises given the instability of my mental health.

I'm just so tired always. And I hate feeling scared and worthless all the time. I hate feeling trapped. Even if I know it's my own life choices and debilitating fear of change that has led to a lot of this. So it's my own fault in the end. But I hope I can find some solace. And I hope you can, too. I hope 2025 will be a kind year to everyone. And even if it's not, that we can find some joy and hope to help us through it.

Sorry this felt a bit morose LOL I guess I wanted to just take this opportunity to reflect back on the year a bit for some catharsis. I shall now sleep for 24 hours to recover from my flight hahaha.

if you saw this post a day ago for a few seconds i'm sorry -- i was working on it in my drafts and must have accidentally clicked post instead of save(??) somehow(???) idk but it posted and i panicked and deleted it and then had to rewrite it from scratch LOL