#and so he dials it up. he turns it into a smooth line. tries to win her over because that’s whats expected of him

[mephisto-reporting]

Hearbreak Anniversary with Rafayel

Summary: It was your anniversary with Rafayel. One year of togetherness. But what if he does not show up when you expect him to? What if he was spending it with MC? Pairing: Non MC! Reader x Rafayel Note: MC in this fic goes by the name Lina (my name... so if you are angry, you can be angry at me :3). This oneshot was based on this request. I will write this for the other LADS men too. Content Warning: Fear of abandonment, self worth issues, angst, hurt and slight comfort, Rafayel grovelling, Rafayel POV

The soft glow of the sunset filtered through the gauzy curtains of Rafayel’s studio, painting the space in warm hues of gold and orange. The place smelled faintly of him—a mix of turpentine, salt, and the faint trace of his cologne. You had spent hours here today, your hands busy arranging the decorations you’d so carefully prepared for this special occasion. Sea shells, shimmering like iridescent pearls, lined the edges of the room, their opalescent beauty a nod to the ocean he once called home. Candles flickered softly on every surface, their flames dancing to an unseen rhythm. You’d even managed to find strands of silken seaweed and glass ornaments, hoping to evoke the beauty of his heritage, the beauty of him.

Every corner of his art studio had been dusted, tidied, and then transformed with touches of magic, warmth, and care. You even placed the tiny trinkets and mementos you had kept from your shared moments—little souvenirs from your adventures together, knickknacks that held meaning between the two of you. You wanted him to feel at home, to feel the same sense of belonging that you had with him. You even wore your best clothes, the ones he had once complimented.

Today was your first anniversary. The thought alone sent your heart fluttering, and you’d poured all that love into this space, into this moment.

A few months ago he had told you this was just another day for him. A god’s sense of time was different, fleeting, perhaps even insignificant. But to you, it meant everything. It was a celebration of love that had somehow defied the odds—of a mortal heart tangled with one belonging to something far greater. So you ignored the whispering doubts that crept into the back of your mind, choosing instead to focus on trust. Rafayel had chosen you, not her. No matter how many stories tied them together, no matter the whispered inevitability of their connection, he had assured you. It was you he loved now.

But as the hours passed, that fragile trust began to tremble.

You sat in the chair by the window, smoothing down the dress you’d picked especially for today. Time crawled. The soft golden light of day gave way to a dark, yawning sky, and still, Rafayel didn’t come home. The anniversary dinner, meticulously prepared and carefully plated, sat untouched on the table. Each tick of the clock became a cruel reminder of his absence.

Worry gnawed at you. What if something had happened to him? Perhaps the art sale ran late, or he was caught up with his patrons. But he always came back home, right?

Your heart twisted as you reached for your phone, dialing a number you didn’t want to use but needed to.

“Thomas?” you asked hesitantly, your voice trembling.

“Oh, hey,” Rafayel’s manager greeted casually. “Everything okay?”

“Is Rafayel still at the sale?” You tried to keep the panic from seeping into your tone, but the silence on the other end was damning.

“Uh… no, he left hours ago. Said he was going to grab dinner. Lina was with him.”

Your grip tightened on the phone, your knuckles turning white.

Lina.

The name struck like a knife.

“Thanks, Thomas,” you whispered, hanging up before he could ask anything more.

You sat there, staring at the flickering candles, their light casting long shadows across the studio walls. He was with Lina. On your anniversary. You had trusted him, convinced yourself that you were enough despite the insecurities that had clawed at your heart since the day you met him.

But now, they came roaring to life.

You had known, of course, who Lina was. She was the one linked to the sea god, his past, his history—his heart. You tried not to let it affect you, tried to bury the insecurities that rose whenever she came up in conversation. Rafayel always assured you there was nothing between them. But then why was he with her, of all people, on your anniversary?

Tears blurred your vision as your chest tightened painfully. Lina.

She was everything you were not. Strong, beautiful, a part of Rafayel’s past, his first love. How could you compete with that? How could you compete with someone who had shared so much more with him, someone whose bond with him was carved in the very fabric of his existence? She was a part of him, woven into the his story, while you were… just someone who had stumbled into his life, someone insignificant in comparison.

Lina... The woman who was forever tied to his past. The sea god's bride. The one he’d loved for so long, the one who had always been there, time after time. You had told yourself, time and time again, that it was nothing. That Rafayel was different with you. He had assured you that there was nothing between them anymore.

But if it’s nothing, why is he with her now? On our day.

Your fingers trembled as you held the phone to your ear, but you couldn’t even bring yourself to ask any more questions. The answers were irrelevant now. His absence, her presence, they were all you needed to know.

Tears pooled at the edges of your vision before spilling over, streaking your face like tiny rivers tracing paths through dusted cheeks. It wasn’t fair. Nothing felt fair. He had promised you. He had promised. But promises were like ocean tides, weren’t they? Sweeping away whatever they could, leaving only bits of broken shells behind.

Lina was everything you could never be. She was strong, beautiful, powerful—everything that Rafayel deserved. She had the sea god’s heart, had always had it, and here you were, just a fleeting ripple on the surface, barely a mark to him. She was woven into the fabric of his past, his future. What are you to him? What have you ever been?

The memories of your relationship, the quiet moments of closeness, the laughter shared under the soft, flickering light of his candles, all those moments seemed so... fragile now. Fragile and fleeting. You were nobody. Just a distraction, a place holder. Nothing more.

You stood up abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor like the scratch of claws on stone. The studio, his studio, filled with remnants of him, was suffocating. His scent lingered in the air, the faint trace of his cologne mixing with the oils and paints scattered everywhere. His taste still clung to your lips from the last time you’d kissed him, the memories of his touch branded into your skin. It was all too much. Too much. The studio, so full of him, was now a suffocating reminder of what you had lost. You didn’t want to stay. You couldn’t.

You tried to hold the tears back, but it was useless. Every doubt, every fear you’d bottled up over the months came crashing down, drowning you in their suffocating weight.

This wasn’t love. This was a cruel game, one you couldn’t win.

You couldn’t breathe. You had to get out.

Your legs moved before your mind could catch up, carrying you toward the door. The wind hit your face the moment you stepped outside, cool and biting, but it wasn’t enough to quell the storm raging inside you.

You ran.

The streets blurred into one indistinct smear of light and shadow as you ran aimlessly, your feet pounding against the pavement, carrying you farther and farther from that studio. From him.

Eventually, the pavement gave way to sand, and the sharp tang of the ocean filled the air. The moon hung high above, casting a silver glow over the beach. Your chest heaved, your lungs burning as you collapsed onto the sand, letting the waves crash against the shore in a soothing rhythm that mocked your turmoil. You kept running, further and further away from whitesand bay, along the beach.

You stumbled, falling to your knees in the sand, clutching your arms around yourself. Your chest heaved as the tears fell freely, the sound of the ocean mixing with your sobs. Lina. You could picture them together, her hand in his, the same way they had been for so many years before you. The seagulls cried above you, indifferent to your pain. And in that moment, you realized that the world didn’t stop for you. It never had. You stared out at the endless sea, the dark horizon stretching in front of you.

How could I have been so blind?

The waves crashed against the shore, each one louder than the last. You are nothing to him. The thought echoed in your mind over and over, relentless, until you could barely breathe under the weight of it.

And just when you thought the world couldn’t get any colder, the tears started again. They fell freely now, salt mixing with the salt of the sea.

You had wanted to be enough. But maybe that was a joke after all. But even as your body trembled with the weight of the heartbreak, you knew one thing: You could never go back. Not to him, not to that studio, not to any of it. You were just a wave, crashing onto the shore, and he was the sea god.

The night wrapped itself around you like a suffocating blanket. The cold air bit into your skin, but it wasn’t enough to numb the ache clawing at your chest. Each crashing wave seemed to echo the bitter truth you couldn’t escape: you were never going to be enough for him. You curled tighter into yourself, trembling as the tears continued to flow. The sand clung to your dress, to your damp hands, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. The world had narrowed to the storm raging inside you—a tempest of betrayal, doubt, and misery.

The sharp chill of the ocean breeze whipped your hair against your tear-streaked face, but it was nothing compared to the icy grip of despair coiling around your heart. Every promise he’d made, every word of reassurance, felt like shards of glass now, cutting into the fragile hope you’d built. The waves surged closer, the cold spray dotting your skin. Your sobs mixed with the crashing tide, swallowed up by the vast, indifferent sea.

You hugged yourself tightly, your body shaking as the cold seeped deeper into your bones. Yet, you stayed there, rooted to the spot, as if the ocean could somehow wash away the ache inside you. But no wave could reach that far, no tide could touch the place where your heart ached. You wanted to scream, to shout at the world for the injustice of it all, but the air in your lungs wouldn’t let you. You were too small for this world, too insignificant for him. You would never be the sea. You were just a small wave, lost in the expanse of the tide.

Rafayel’s POV

The door to the studio swung open, and Rafayel stepped inside, laughter trailing after him. “You should’ve seen the look on that shopkeeper’s face when I said we’d take both cakes,” he said, his voice warm and light. He turned to Lina, who chuckled softly as she followed him, holding one of the carefully boxed pastries. “He probably thought we were insane.”

Rafayel kicked the door shut behind him, balancing his own box of confections, his grin still in place. “I can’t wait to see my cutie’s face when she tries these. She’s going to love them.”

But the moment his gaze swept across the room, his laughter faltered and then stopped entirely.

The studio was transformed. Soft candlelight flickered, casting golden hues across the walls. Seashells glimmered like scattered pearls, carefully arranged along the edges of the space. Strands of delicate seaweed draped like garlands, their green silkiness catching the light. Trinkets, small but unmistakably meaningful, dotted the surfaces—each one an ode to moments he had shared with you. The table was set with plates of untouched food, lovingly prepared, and the air held a faint, tantalizing aroma that now felt unbearably heavy.

He froze, the pastry box slipping slightly in his grip. His throat tightened as his eyes roved over every detail, taking in the love and care you had poured into the space. The decorations, the mementos, the effort—it was overwhelming.

“Rafayel?” Lina’s voice broke through the silence. She stepped forward, her brows knitting in concern. “What’s wrong?”

“I…” His voice cracked, and he set the box down on the nearest surface with trembling hands. “I fucked up,” he whispered, barely audible. His fingers grazed one of the seashells, its surface smooth and cool. He trailed his hand over a string of seaweed, the soft texture almost mocking him. “I fucked up bad.”

Lina’s concern deepened. “What are you talking about?”

Rafayel turned toward her, his expression stricken. “The anniversary. Our anniversary. It slipped my mind.” His voice was a low, shaky whisper as he glanced back at the table, the untouched plates, the flickering candles. “She did all of this… for me. For us.”

He called out your name, his voice echoing through the space. “Are you here? Cutie?” His steps quickened as he moved through the studio, searching. The bathroom. The bedroom. The small corner where you sometimes curled up to read. “Are you asleep?” he called, though he knew better. Each empty room was another blow to his gut.

Panic clawed at him as he returned to the main room, his gaze darting to the table again, the small trinkets, the soft glow of candles still burning. The room felt haunted, filled with the ghost of your hope and effort.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair, gripping it tightly. He grabbed his phone and immediately dialed Thomas.

“Thomas, did she—did she say anything to you? Did she mention where she might go?” Rafayel’s voice was taut with desperation.

Thomas hesitated. “She called me earlier. She asked if you were still at the sale. That’s all she said.”

The weight of Thomas’s words slammed into Rafayel like a wave. You’d called, searching for him, only to learn the truth he had tried to ignore. It had slipped his mind completely. He didn’t know you were setting all of this up. For him. For the both of you.

“Thanks,” Rafayel muttered, ending the call and immediately dialing your number. He paced the studio, his heart racing as the line rang once… twice… three times—

And then he heard it. The faint buzz of your phone, abandoned on the sofa near the window.

“Shit!” Rafayel cursed, grabbing the device and staring at the darkened screen as if it could offer him answers. “Shit, shit, shit!”

He collapsed onto the chair you had once sat in, his head in his hands. Where were you? His gaze drifted to the table again, the untouched dinner, the carefully arranged decorations.

How could he have been so blind? So careless? You had given him everything, and he… he had been too wrapped up in himself, too foolish to see what truly mattered.

Lina hesitated before taking a few careful steps toward Rafayel, watching his every move with growing concern. She’d never seen him like this before. His usual confident, almost cocky demeanor had vanished, leaving only raw distress in its place. He sat slumped in the chair, his phone clutched tightly in his hands, his chest rising and falling with each shaky breath.

"Rafayel..." she began softly, her voice gentle but concerned. "What’s going on? What happened?"

Her hand brushed against his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him, but the instant her fingers made contact with his skin, he flinched as though struck. His body jerked back, his eyes flashing with something wild—something dangerous.  His eyes, usually a mischievous swirl of pink and blue, flared into a startling, unearthly bright blue before he clenched them shut, his jaw tightening.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, his voice hoarse as he pulled away, his fists curling. “Lina, I—sorry. I didn’t mean to—” He forced himself to inhale deeply, reigning in his emotions as the scales receded and his eyes returned to their usual hue. “I’m fine,” he lied, though the tension in his shoulders betrayed him. “I just... I need to find her.”

Lina’s hand hovered uncertainly before falling back to her side. “Rafayel,” she began gently, “her phone’s here. Her purse. Even her car keys. Where could she have gone?”

“I don’t know,” he snapped, the sharpness in his voice born of self-directed frustration. “And that’s what’s driving me insane.” He ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the roots as if the pain could ground him. “She’s out there somewhere, without her coat, without her phone... and it’s freezing tonight.”

Lina straightened, crossing her arms. “Then let me help—”

“No.” His interruption was immediate, his tone brooking no argument. He turned to her, his expression pained but resolute. “This is my fault. I need to fix this myself.”

“But—”

“Please, Lina,” he cut in, softer this time. “If she’s out there, you’ll hear from me. Just… if you see her, let me know. But I have to do this alone.”

After a long, hesitant pause, Lina relented, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Fine. But don’t do anything reckless. I’ll keep my eyes open and let you know if I find anything.”

Rafayel nodded, murmuring his thanks before grabbing his coat and storming out into the night.

The cold air bit at his face as he ran through the streets, his breath forming short puffs in the frigid night. He clutched his phone tightly, the screen glowing as he swiped to a recent photo of you, showing it to every passerby he stopped.

“Have you seen her?” he asked a bewildered man on the corner. “This woman? Please—it’s urgent.”

The man shook his head, muttering an apology before hurrying off. Rafayel grit his teeth, suppressing the wave of panic threatening to consume him. Where are you?

The thought repeated like a drumbeat as he made his way to the beach. The icy wind off the water made him shiver, but he pressed forward, searching desperately. He called your neighbor, pacing along the shoreline as he waited for an answer.

The voice on the other end was soft, a little worried. “No... the lights are off. The door’s locked. I haven’t seen her since this afternoon.”

His heart skipped a beat, the silence that followed pressing like a weight on his chest. Where were you? Where could you have gone? You were working so hard fore him, for the both of you since the afternoon and he wasn’t even there to experience it with you together. He could imagine it, the smile on your face as you placed those shells, the excitement in your movements as you cooked his favorite food. His eyes darted to the horizon, a dark line of water stretching out before him, and his legs moved faster, pushing him toward the shore, toward the place where you sometimes went to escape.

The beach was empty when he arrived, the wind biting at his skin, the waves crashing softly against the sand. He scanned the shoreline, dread filling him as he searched. There was no sign of you, but his heart refused to let go of the hope that you might be here.

He walked for what felt like hours, the weight of the cold creeping into his bones as the night deepened. The autumn air turned chillier, the first hints of winter brushing against his skin. You hadn’t taken your coat. You hadn’t taken anything. What was he thinking? You’d never leave without saying something. So why was he—

His breath hitched as his gaze landed on something ahead. A small lump on the sand.

His heart stopped, the world narrowing down to that single, fragile form crumpled against the cold ground.

“No!” he whispered, his voice raw with emotion. He ran towards you, his legs moving faster than they ever had before, fear propelling him forward. His feet barely touching the ground as he pushed forward, his every step frantic. He reached you within seconds, his pulse hammering in his ears. He knelt beside you, his hands trembling as he gently touched your shoulder.

“Cutie?” he called, his voice cracking. His knees hit the sand as he reached you, and his heart twisted painfully at the sight. You were curled in on yourself, your arms hugging your knees, your face hidden. Tear tracks glistened on your cheeks, even in the dim moonlight, and your body trembled from the cold.

“Shit,” Rafayel hissed, his voice barely a whisper as panic surged again. You were cold, so cold. Damp from the wet sand, your skin pale as if the very life had been drained from you. He pulled off his jacket, draping it around you as gently as he could, his hands still shaking.

Why didn’t I see it? Why didn’t I see how badly she needed me?

He slid his arms around you, his heart aching as he pulled you into his lap, cradling you as though you might break into a thousand pieces. He brushed the strands of hair from your face, his thumb gently caressing your cheek as he whispered your name over and over, praying that you would wake up. That you would hear him. “Fuck,” he breathed, feeling a wave of guilt crash over him. “What did I do? What the hell did I do…”

But he couldn’t. Not now. Now, all he could do was hold you, his arms wrapping around you protectively as he rocked gently, trying to warm you, trying to make everything okay.

“I’m here, okay? I’m here. I’m so sorry, cutie.” he whispered, his voice breaking. His mind raced, but nothing could erase the hollow ache in his chest. The thought of losing you, of failing you—he couldn’t bear it. He wouldn’t. “I’m sorry,” he choked out, the words tumbling from him like a confession he had never intended to make. “I’m so sorry. I fucked up. I messed this up, I—I’m here now.”

He clutched you tighter, trembling with the weight of his regret. The wind cut through the beach, but he barely noticed, too consumed by the sight of you—so still, so fragile, in his arms. His mind raced, scrambling for something, anything, to fix this

Your eyes fluttered open weakly, barely meeting his. You were too exhausted to respond, your body utterly spent.

“Hey,” he whispered, his voice unsteady as he gently tucked his coat tighter around you. “I’ve got you. I’m so sorry.” His thumb brushed the tear-streaked curve of your cheek, his chest aching at the evidence of your heartbreak. “You shouldn’t be out here. It’s too cold...not like this. Not alone,” Rafayel murmured, his voice thick with emotion. His hands trembled as he tried to warm you, his arms sheltering you from the relentless chill of the wind. “I should’ve been there. I should’ve—” He broke off, his throat tightening painfully. Words felt so useless now, but he couldn’t stop them. He needed you to know. “I’m the biggest idiot in the world. I forgot something so important, something that should’ve been at the center of my mind.” His arms slipped beneath you, lifting you effortlessly despite your protests—if there were any.

Your lips moved faintly, but the sound was lost in the cold wind. He leaned closer, his ear near your mouth. “What is it? I’m here. Please... say something.”

“I thought... maybe you'd care,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. The words struck him harder than any physical blow ever could. He felt the sting in his chest, his breath hitching as guilt twisted the knife deeper.

“I do care!” he exclaimed, his voice desperate. “More than anything. I was just... I was so caught up in everything else, and I—I didn’t realize how much you needed me. How much you’ve always been there for me. I messed up, cutie. I know I did.”

You shivered against him, and he shifted to shield you better from the biting wind. “Let me take you home,” he pleaded, his voice softer now. “We’ll fix this. I’ll fix this. I’ll make it right, I swear.”

For a long moment, you didn’t respond, and his heart hammered in his chest. Finally, you gave the faintest of nods, your head resting against his chest. You shivered in his arms, your eyes fluttering shut again, too drained to muster a response. Panic surged in Rafayel as he felt how cold your skin was against his. He shifted, standing with you carefully cradled in his arms, his coat wrapped tightly around you.

“Hey, hey, stay with me,” he pleaded, his voice urgent but soft. “I need you to hold on, okay? Just a little longer. Let’s get you somewhere warm.” He pressed his cheek to your temple for a moment, as though the simple touch might reassure you—and himself—that you were still here with him.

Rafayel didn’t waste a second. He scooped you up gently, careful not to jostle you. The warmth of his jacket wrapped around your frame and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat seemed to soothe some of the tension in your body. He murmured quiet reassurances as he carried you, his voice a constant presence in the cold, empty night. His normally cocky demeanor had shattered into shards of raw vulnerability, replaced by a frantic urgency to get you home—his home. Your breathing was shallow, your limbs slack in his hold, and every uneven step he took felt like walking a tightrope with everything he valued most precariously balanced in his grasp. He adjusted his hold, cradling you tighter against his chest. “Look, I know I’m an idiot sometimes. Fine, most of the time,” he admitted, his words a jumble of nervous energy and shaky humor. “But this isn’t the time to prove me wrong, alright? Just hang on a little longer. I’m taking you home.”

By the time you reached the studio, the candlelight had dimmed, but the room still held the warmth of the love you had poured into it. Rafayel carried you inside. By the time he reached the threshold of his room, his shirt clung to him, drenched from sweat and your tears. He nudged the door open with his shoulder, careful not to jostle you, and hurried inside.

The room was cold and dimly lit, the heater long dormant. He set you down on the bed, fumbling with the blankets to cocoon you in their warmth. Your body trembled, and his chest constricted as he watched you stir faintly before slipping deeper into unconsciousness.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, barely audible at first, as if the walls themselves might condemn him. Then louder, more desperate, his voice cracking. “I’m so damn sorry. I was stupid—so, so stupid. I should’ve seen this coming. Should’ve kept you safe. Should’ve—” He stopped himself, biting down hard on the inside of his cheek to stifle the sob building in his throat. His eyes flickered between his usual hues and that unearthly blue every now and then.

His hands hovered over your face, fingers trembling as he brushed damp strands of hair from your skin. “You’re too good for me, you know that? Too good for someone who screws up as much as I do. But I promise—” His voice broke, the words spilling out in a frenzied rush. “I promise I’ll make it up to you. Il love you, cutie. I love you so much.” And then, because even in his rawest moments he couldn’t help himself, he added with a weak, self-deprecating chuckle, “I am lucky I’m this charming, or I don’t think you’d ever put up with me.”

He turned on the heater, pacing back and forth as he muttered under his breath, berating himself in every way he could think of, his brattiness peeking through as he cursed the broken world that had led to this moment. He glanced at you repeatedly, as if reassuring himself you hadn’t vanished, that you hadn’t slipped through his fingers.

When you stirred, your eyelids fluttering open, he froze mid-step. His usual confident smirk was gone, replaced by wide, guilt-stricken eyes. “You’re awake,” he blurted, his voice filled with relief but tinged with apprehension. “I know I screwed up,” he admitted quietly, his lips brushing against your temple. “But—seriously, who let you do this to yourself, huh? Oh wait, that’s me. Fantastic job, Rafayel. Bravo.” He huffed out a shaky laugh, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, sitting at your bedside. The words spilled out before he could stop them, over and over again. “I’m so, so sorry. This—this isn’t how it was supposed to go. You’re supposed to be mad at me, not like this. Not…” His voice cracked, and he scrubbed a hand down his face, frustration bubbling beneath the surface.

Then, almost instinctively, the mask of bravado slipped back into place. “But, hey, look at you, stealing my bed like it’s your right. I mean, sure, I offered, but still.” His smirk faltered, his voice softening. “You better not make a habit of this, you know? Making me worry this much.”

You shifted, your eyelids fluttering completely open, and the sight of your weary gaze meeting his nearly unraveled him.

“Raf?” Your voice was weak, barely audible, but it was enough to snap him upright.

“Hey, you’re awake!” He forced a grin, though it couldn’t hide the guilt pooling in his eyes. “Good, because I was just about to start serenading you with an apology song. Don’t ask for a refund… the lyrics are terrible.”

You tried to sit up, but he was on you in an instant, gently pressing you back down. “Whoa, whoa, no sudden moves, alright? Just... stay put for once. Let me handle it for a change.”

"Handle what?" you asked, your voice edged with exhaustion and confusion.

His grin wavered, giving way to something more honest, more afraid. “Everything. All of it. I... I screwed up, okay? I’m the idiot who let you get like this, who didn’t see—who didn’t stop—” His words tangled, and he exhaled sharply. “I’m sorry. I’m so damn sorry, and I’ll keep saying it until you believe me. Or, you know, until you tell me to shut up. Whichever comes first.”

Your lashes fluttered weakly again, and a barely audible sound escaped your lips. “...Rafayel...?”

His heart soared and broke all at once at the sound of your voice. “I’m here,” he said quickly, leaning closer so you could hear him clearly. “I’m right here. I’ve got you.”

Tears welled in his eyes as you looked up at him, your gaze heavy with exhaustion and something he couldn’t quite name—hurt, maybe, or disappointment. It cut him deeper than any blade ever could.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, his voice a choked whisper. “I know that doesn’t fix this, but I swear, I’ll spend every moment making it up to you if you let me.”

For a moment, silence hung between you, broken only by the hum of the heater and the soft whistle of the wind outside. Finally, you whispered, your voice trembling, “I waited...”

“I know,” he whispered, his tears falling freely now. “You shouldn’t have had to. You deserve better than that, better than me—but I’m begging you, please give me another chance. Don’t give up on me yet.”

Finally, your voice, though weak, broke the quiet. “You forgot... something that meant so much to me.”

Rafayel’s throat tightened, but he nodded, accepting your words. “I know. And I’ll spend as long as it takes to make it up to you. I’ll show you how much you mean to me. I love you,” he whispered against your skin, the words soft but raw with sincerity. “More than anything. More than I can even say. I don’t deserve you, but… please, let me try. Let me make it up to you.”

“Don’t leave me,” he repeated, his voice a breathless whisper, “Not like this.” His voice cracked on the last word, and for a moment, you could see the mask slip—just for a second. Rafayel was scared. Scared of losing you. Scared of failing you. It was the one thing he had never let you see, the one thing he kept locked away in the deep recesses of his heart, but now, it was clear as day.

As you looked at him, something shifted between the two of you—an understanding, perhaps. You could see his desperation, the way he clung to the edges of his composure, trying to hide the vulnerability he never allowed anyone to witness.

I thought... I thought this was everything I could give. Everything I could be..." your own voice cracking.

He shook his head again, his grip never loosening. “You’re so much more than all of this. I’ve been blind, cutie. And now I can see it—see you.” He gently cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks as if to erase every doubt that had taken root there. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for making you feel invisible.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, the tears still staining your face, but the weight of his words was a strange kind of relief. He was here. He saw you now. The storm of emotions inside you hadn’t dissipated, but his presence, the raw sincerity in his voice, made you feel something close to safety.

Rafayel kissed your forehead softly, the gentle pressure of his lips a tender promise. “I’m here, cutie. And I’ll do everything I can to make this right. You won’t feel invisible again.”

You nodded slowly, the tears still flowing, but there was a flicker of hope, however faint. "Just... don't forget again," you whispered.

“I won’t,” he promised, his voice firm, but his eyes were full of vulnerability. "I won’t. Never again."

You didn’t respond immediately, your eyes closing as if you were too weary to respond. But when Rafayel reached for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours, a faint squeeze answered him. It wasn’t forgiveness, not yet, but it was enough—a thread of hope that he clung to with everything he had. For now, you didn’t pull away, and that was a start.

AN: reblogs, feedback and opinions are appreciated!

[matsuera]

cringe in tags (long one)

[aventurineswife]

Aventurine's reaction when you call him and tell him that his catcake gave birth (its so silly ikr, just a sudden idea nothing important lol)

Cats are like potato chips; you can’t have just one.

Summary: When you call Aventurine to share the news that one of his beloved catcakes has given birth to a litter of tiny, adorable kittens, you expect a simple reaction. However, Aventurine's response is anything but ordinary.

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Fluff, Comedy, Slice of Life, Pets(Catcakes), Domestic Life, Lighthearted Fun, Situational Humor, Silly Situations.

A/N: THIS IS SUCH A SILLY AND CUTE IDEA 🤭 AND BEFORE Y'ALL COME AFTER ME I KNOW CHURIN HAS 3 CATS SO PRETEND TWO OF THEM ARE PARENTS OR SOMETHING!! KEEP THOSE REQUESTS COMING!! 🫶💖

You stood in the middle of your living room, phone in hand, staring at the sight before you with a mix of disbelief and amusement. One of Aventurine's beloved catcakes, a plush-like, mischievous creature with large golden-rimmed eyes and its distinctive trash-can-lid "hat," had just given birth to a litter of tiny, squirming mini-catcakes. Each one looked like a little version of their mom—black and pudgy, with miniature trash can lids that tilted adorably to the side.

You dialed Aventurine’s number, giggling to yourself at how ridiculous this was going to sound. The line picked up almost instantly, Aventurine's rich, confident voice greeting you.

“Darling, I hope this call means you're missing me terribly.” he said, the smooth charm practically radiating through the phone.

“Oh, I am,” you chuckled. “But that’s not why I called. Um...one of your catcakes just gave birth. You’re a...catcake dad now!”

There was a brief, stunned silence on the other end. You could picture him, his eyes widening in a rare moment of surprise, his usual air of confidence momentarily thrown off balance.

“Wait…my catcake did what?” He sounded somewhere between bewilderment and amusement, a laugh bubbling up in his voice.

“Yep! A litter of tiny catcakes! They’re like little carbon copies of the original but with even tinier trash can hats.” You tried to stifle your laugh but failed miserably, imagining how Aventurine must look processing this news.

“Well, I’ll be damned. Little risk-takers already multiplying without my knowledge…” he murmured to himself, though you could hear the faint trace of excitement creeping into his tone. “Tell me, darling—how do they look? Are they as devilishly charming as their old man?”

“Oh, absolutely! Little round black puffballs with the cutest, most intense eyes.” you said, leaning down to gently pet one of them as it squeaked. “And they’re already wiggling around, so I think they inherited your, uh, energy.”

“Mini me’s, indeed.” Aventurine’s laugh was low and surprisingly affectionate. “I suppose I’ll need to come over and meet the little scoundrels. And...maybe celebrate with you, seeing as you’ve helped bring my legacy forward. How does dinner sound?”

You grinned, heart fluttering a bit at his charm. “Dinner sounds perfect. But be prepared—they’re already trying to climb out of the box I put them in.”

“Oh, they’ll fit right into the family, then.” He let out an indulgent sigh. “Well, be a dear and keep them from getting too rowdy. I’ll be over shortly.”

As you hung up, you could still hear Aventurine's amusement lingering in his voice. You smiled to yourself, turning back to the tiny creatures that had somehow managed to turn a perfectly normal day into something absolutely unforgettable. Only Aventurine’s pets would come with this level of drama.

Aventurine suggestive fic next 🤭 keep those requests coming!

[flightlessangelwings]

Drowning in You

Frankie Morales x fem!reader

Word count-2.5k

Warnings- s.mut (18+ ONLY!), exes to lovers, alcohol, pining, feelings, f receiving oral (all hail Frankie the pussy eating king!), overstim, sexytimes in a car, reader is able bodied but otherwise not described other than body parts, no use of y/n

Prompts- Both/all parties get caught in the rain. / "Kiss me in the rain. Please?"

Notes- Written for @undercoverpena April Showers Challenge! Getting this in on literally the last day of the month too lol! But I had fun with this one so I hope y'all enjoy!

@flightlessangelwings-updates is my update blog so feel free to also follow that and turn on post notifs to stay up to date on when I post new things!

Moodboard made by me

~

You never expected to see him here. Especially after all these years. You had broken up with Frankie so long ago… or had he broken up with you? Honestly it had been so long that you couldn’t even remember. Were you upset about one of his deployments? Was he upset that you worked too much? Was it something so inconsequential that you drew a blank? At this point, it didn’t even matter anymore.

As you stared at Francisco Morales- Frankie- from across the bar, all your old emotions bubbled up to the surface. He had more lines on his face than the last time you saw him, but it only made him more handsome. He still wore that same ratted baseball cap, but his hair looked a little longer as brown wavy locks poked out from under it. And his smile… even from far away you saw how his smile lit up his face. It made your heart flutter in your chest like you were a lovestruck school girl all over again. 

But time felt like it stopped when you and Frankie locked eyes from opposite sides of the room. Your breath caught in your throat as you felt the temperature rise around you. All movement that surrounded you felt like it was in slow motion as you and Frankie just stared at each other, both as dumbfounded and surprised as the other. 

You hadn’t changed a bit. No, you were even more beautiful than the last time Frankie saw you. And the way your lips parted as you wore a stunned look across your face only brought up all the feelings he fought so hard to bury. The truth was not a day went by that Frankie didn’t think of you. So many times he picked up the phone to dial your number only to hang up before he could hit the call button. He couldn’t even remember why the two of you broke up, but he knew that letting you go was the biggest mistake of his life.

And he wasn’t about to let that happen again.

“Hi,” Frankie tried to sound smooth as he approached you, “You look…” he cleared his throat as he messed with his hat, “You look… Wow,” he breathed as a crooked smile lit up his face.

“Wow yourself,” you shimmied your shoulders subtly as chills ran up your spine from hearing his voice again. You fiddled with your fingers for a moment as nerves overtook you, “It’s good to see you, Frankie,” you said, “How have you been?”

“Oh, you know,” he shrugged, putting his hands in his pockets, “You?”

“Same old,” you sounded playfully dismissive, as if neither of you cared about the past. All that mattered was the present, and maybe the future. “How are the guys?” you asked.

“Nothing’s changed.” It was a lie; so much had changed since the last time Frankie spoke to you. But now wasn’t the time for that. 

“That’s good,” you grinned. Shifting your weight from side to side, you felt like there was so much in the air between you two that needed to be let out. And yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to voice any of it. The tension was palpable, and even the strangers in the room could notice.

There was so much Frankie wanted to say, and yet none of it felt relevant. What could he possibly say to you after all these years? His chest felt tight and he felt like his throat was dry as he tried to swallow. And he was sure it got warmer in here since he came over to talk to you.

Frankie finally settled on, “Can I get you a drink?” 

Your eyes lit up and it made his heart pound in his chest, “Yes,” you breathed.

It was as if no time passed at all as you and Frankie shared drink after drink together. In an instant, you remembered what made you fall in love with him, and Frankie felt the same way about you. Both of you lost yourselves in each other as you talked and caught each other up on where you were in your lives.

“Hey, I bet I could still kick your ass at pool,” you shimmied your shoulders playfully as you motioned over to the empty pool table.

Frankie took a big swig of his drink and smiled widely, “You’re on!”

Heat built up between your bodies as you took turns shooting the balls into the net on the table. Every time Frankie came close to you, you felt your skin warm and tingle. And especially when he leaned so close against you that you thought he was going to kiss you. For a brief moment, you almost gave in as you unconsciously leaned in and glanced down at his lips as he teased you for missing a shot.

But, before you could make a move… 

“Alright love birds, last call,” the bartender interrupted you and Frankie, “It’s closing time.”

“Oh shit,” you laughed as you took a step back, “I didn’t even realize it got so late!”

“Me either,” Frankie’s eyes never left your figure as you put the pool sticks away. He flagged down the bartender and paid for both of your tabs before he returned to you, “Can I walk you to your car?”

“I actually didn’t drive here,” you admitted sheepishly, suddenly embarrassed about being out so late on your own. But you weren’t on your own, were you? You almost forgot about the friends you came here with, and you were sure they all left hours ago as you were catching up with your ex. 

“Can I give you a ride home then?” he asked, hopeful.

You smiled at him, “Yeah.”

It was dark as you and Frankie walked through the parking lot of the bar. Most of the cars were gone, and those that remained were about to drive away. Only Frankie’s truck parked on the far end of the lot was left.

“Still got that shitty old truck, huh?” you jested.

“Hey, this piece of shit has done me good,” Frankie laughed, “She may be getting up in years but she’s still got some life left in her.”

All you could do was grin widely. Yep, he was the same old Frankie that you fell in love with all those years ago. The same Frankie that you missed every day. The same Frankie that you wished you could get back and be the way things used to be…

“Well,” Frankie groaned as you both reached the passenger side, “Your ride waites,” he made a scene about hamming it up for you, making you burst into laughter.

“I’ve missed you, Frankie.” The confession slipped out before you could stop it.

He froze. 

Under the low light of the streetlamps, you looked stunning. Even in the darkness, Frankie could see the way your eyes shone. The tone shifted as he reached out and cupped the side of your face, gently stroking your cheek with his thumb.

“I missed you too, baby,” he murmured softly.

Your lips parted to let out a deep breath as you found yourself drawn closer and closer to his face. You glanced down at his lips for a moment, remembering the way they were always so soft against yours. But, just as you felt his breath on your skin, it suddenly started to pour.

“Shit!” Frankie hissed as you both found yourself soaking wet in the downpour that came from nowhere, “Quick, get in!”

“Wait,” you grabbed his shirt, “Kiss me!”

“What?!”

“Kiss me. Right here, in the rain,” you sounded more sure of yourself this time, “Please?”

Frankie exhaled sharply as he hovered his lips over yours, “I can’t say no to that.”

With that, Frankie crashed his lips against yours in a deep and desperate kiss. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close, feeling your soaked body against his. Swallowing the moan you let out, Frankie let out a groan of his own as he tasted you for the first time in years. And it was way better than he remembered. Instantly, Frankie was addicted to you again.

“Fuck, baby,” he murmured against your lips as he broke away briefly only to kiss you again.

“Frankie…”

“Baby,” he cut you off, “I gotta tell you… Now that I’ve had a taste, I fucking need more…”

“What’s stopping you then?” you smirked as your tone dropped, your tone obvious.

“Now? Fucking nothing,” he smirked against your face as he grabbed you as yanked you towards the backseat. Fumbling with the door, Frankie quickly ushered you inside before climbing in on top of you and shutting the door behind him. Laughter erupted from both of you as you clumsily tried to situate yourself in the cramped backseat of Frankie’s truck. 

“Feels just like old times,” you mumbled in between frantic kisses as you felt yourself stripped of your soaking wet clothes.

Frankie let out a short laugh, “Like when we were younger and I’d fuck you in my back of my old beat up piece of shit car for hours,” he groaned as he yanked your bottoms off of you, “Fuck…” he breathed in awe.

All you could do was moan as you felt the heat of Frankie’s gaze warm you from the inside. Suddenly, the cold rain felt like a steamy mist on your skin as he looked at your pure pure need and adoration. 

“Shit baby,” Frankie purred before he dove into you in a flash.

You threw your head back and screamed as his lips made contact with your pussy, immediately sending you into a state of ecstasy. Pleasure overwhelmed you as Frankie’s tongue worked your fold with expert precision that you knew and loved from him. Moans filled the truck as your hands landed in his hair, pushing the cap off his head so you could bury your fingers in his tick locks.

“Fuck… Frankie…” you moaned as your eyes rolled back into your head. 

The rain continued to pound on the roof of Frankie’s tuck as he devoured you like a man starved. And perhaps that’s what Frankie was. Ever since the day you left, he wanted nothing more than to hold you in his arms again, to taste you again. And now that he had his wish, he was not going to let you go.

Frankie’s emotions overwhelmed him as he grabbed your hips and pulled you closer against his face. He felt no need for air as he licked and slurped greedily at your pussy, savoring your taste and every sound you made. With every flick of his tongue, Frankie felt his cock stiffen more. But he ignored it. All he cared about was drawing in your pussy, drowning in giving you the pleasure you both craved after so long apart. 

“Oh baby… Fuck…” you cried out as tears filled your eyes.

As much as he wanted to coo soothing words, Frankie found that he couldn’t pull himself away from you. Licking down your folds, he darted his tongue in and out of your entrance a few times before he ran back up and sucked hard at your clit. The action pulled a cry from you that drowned out the pouring rain and you tugged at his hair harder.

That’s it baby, Frankie thought as he groaned into your body.

Your hips bucked against Frankie’s face on their own. Up and down, up and down, you rocked your hips against his face, feeling the combination of his tongue and his nose against your folds that created a pleasure unlike anything you ever felt before. You cried out in ecstasy as you felt a tingle emanate from your core.

“Fuck… Frankie… I’m…” you moaned as you felt your climax quickly approach.

Frankie didn’t let up. Instead, he grabbed you even tighter and picked up his pace with his tongue. Flicking your clit over and over again, he pushed harder, knowing exactly which spots drove you wild. Your moans and cries were music to his ears, highlighted by the sound of the rain that continued outside, surrounding you in your little pocket of bliss. 

“Fran…” you couldn’t even get his entire name out before your orgasm crashed into you like a wave hitting the beach. Your legs trembled on either side of his head as you threw your head back and screamed loudly. You felt like you were floating, with only Frankie’s tongue and hands to keep you grounded.

Even as your peak hit, Frankie still didn’t stop. He was too consumed with you to even think of breaking away. Instead, he kept going. Even as you whimpered from becoming overstimulated, he kept going. Frankie sucked and slurped at your cunt like he was eating a melting ice cream. And to him, you were just as sweet, if not sweeter.

Tears fell down your cheeks as your mind went blank. Even the uncomfortable cushion of his backseat didn’t bother you as you let out a desperate whine. In the break between your screams, you heard the rain hit the roof of the truck… as well as the obscene slurping of Frankie in between your legs. Picking your head up, you saw the outline of him in the dim light, his head bobbing up and down as he refused to let you go.

“Oh fuck…” you moaned as another climax hit you out of nowhere. Your body went limp as you cried out in bliss once more, feeling the overwhelming pleasure that Frankie’s tongue brought you. “Fuck!” you screamed as you yanked on his hair, letting him know you finally had enough.

With one final loud pop, Frankie finally broke away from your body. His eyes were glazed over and his chin glistened from your juices. He stared at you in silence, the only sound being the rain outside as you both caught your breaths. The windows were so fogged up that no one could see inside even if there was anyone out to peer in, and Frankie could barely see out.

“You alright, baby?” Frankie asked, breaking the silence. 

You blinked your eyes open and your heart fluttered in your chest from the way he looked at you, “Never fucking better,” you grinned.

Frankie leaned over, pushing himself forward to cover your body and take your lips in a slow yet still heated kiss, “Me too,” he murmured against your lips.

You wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders, pulling him in closer, “I missed you so much, Frankie,” your voice was like a plea.

He cupped your face, “I missed you too, baby,” he replied, his tone soft. Frankie’s thumb brushed a tear off your cheek before he spoke again, “Hey,” he started with a hint of a smirk in his voice, “How about we go back to my place and make up for lost time?”

You grinned widely, “What are we waiting for?” you kissed him again, savoring the taste of him on your tongue. 

“Absolutely nothing,” he replied with a grin of his own and a bright future ahead for both of you despite the downpour outside. 

[s4no]

+ feat: ken ryuuguji x fem!reader

+ cw: sex work (draken is an escort), virginity loss, oral (r), ptv, size difference

+ summary: after years of failed attempts at losing your virginity, you decide to take matters into your own hands and buy a night with the most expensive male escort tokyo has to offer. (5.4k words)

+ a/n: i decided to rewrite one of my old fics so if you recognize the title and/or plot, it's from my archived account; written in the adult timeline

Your nerves are in shambles as you approach the unfamiliar building. Your legs feel weak and your fingers clutch your wallet tightly, as if you suspect someone may try to mug you and steal it. For all that you know, it's possible. You’ve never been in this part of town before and you're grateful you haven't run into anybody you know. You’d definitely get questioned if someone saw you walking down the main street of Tokyo's Red Light District. Or more specifically, into a brothel.

It isn’t like you're out here on a whim. You’d thought about this for a long time, pondered over it many nights after hours of tossing and turning, and after five very long— and equally as frustrating years, you’d made your decision. You wanted to lose your virginity and you’d use all the resources at your disposal.

You didn’t have much luck out on the dating scene, which mainly consisted of Tinder and a couple of the local bars out in Roppongi. You’d tried it all: blind dates, speed dates, double dates. None of them ever resulted in a relationship— or even a one night stand— so you’d been forced back to square one each time. After five years of trying and failing, you’d given up on finding love for the time being.

But… not pleasure.

That’s how you find yourself walking into the luxurious lobby of the most popular brothel in the city. The smell of jasmine invades your nose and the sound of smooth jazz drifts into your ears, immediately creating a sensuous atmosphere that leaves you gawking. Red velvet couches line the walls, some accompanied by golden side tables where clients can sit their drinks while they wait to be called back.

At the front of the room sits a large mahogany desk with a woman seated behind it, tapping away at a computer. Swallowing, you timidly approach the front desk and lean in close, your voice barely above a whisper. “Hello, I’d like to… Um, book a room.”

The woman doesn’t even bother sparing you a glance, her fingers still flying across the keyboard. “Male or female bodied?”

“Male, please. I’d like… the male with the best rating, if possible.”

Your cheeks flush when the woman stops typing, her eyes glancing you over before responding. “I’m sure you would,” condescension colors her tone, “but I’m afraid there are premium rates for our top-tier employees.” Ones that are out of your price range, she suspects.

“I’m prepared to pay as much as it takes.” Unzipping your wallet, you spread it open to reveal a thick stack of crisp ten thousand yen banknotes. You’ve been saving up for this since Christmas, working a full-time job along with attending classes at the university nearby. It’d been stressful and you'd worked yourself ragged, pinching pennies for the last few months, but tonight is going to make it all worth it.

Her eyes flicker between you and your stuffed wallet for a moment before she crosses her arms and leans back in her chair. “I see. Well, I’ll have to check if he’s available. How long did you want to book him for?”

“…Three hours.”

Her eyebrows raise at that but she otherwise remains professional, nodding and picking up the phone on her desk. She quickly dials a number, sighing as she waits for someone to answer. “Hello? Yes, I was wondering if you’d like to accept a three-hour appointment.” She pauses for a second. “Yes, she’s here in the lobby right now and prepared to pay the fees upfront.” Another pause. “Okay. Thank you, Draken. Bye.”

Putting the phone down, she turns back to you. “He should be down shortly to take you back. That’ll be ¥120,000.”

— ღ —

After handing over the wad of cash, you take a seat on one of the velvet couches and run a hand through your hair. The room feels significantly warmer than it had when you first walked in and you realize it's because your heart is racing. It's happening. This is actually happening.

You'd almost chickened out this afternoon— considered using the money to take a nice little trip to Okinawa. You could swim with the fish and read out on the beach, eat some good seafood, blow off some steam. You'd definitely enjoy yourself but what happened once you came back? You'd find yourself back at square one, a hundred thousand yen poorer and filled with regret and immense sexual frustration.

There had been a couple of times you'd come close to achieving your goal. You'd gone to a frat party a few weeks ago, drank and danced your heart out. Even wore a pair of jean shorts that barely managed to cover your ass. When you ended up getting hot and heavy with one of the brothers, he took you back to his room only for you to walk in on his roommate having a threesome with two very talented blondes.

In March, when you first created a Tinder profile, you'd matched with a cute grad student who wanted to take you out to dinner. He drove you to a hotpot restaurant and halfway through the date, you two retreated to the bathroom to have a quickie. Your panties were around your ankles when you realized you didn't want your first time to be in a restroom stall beside a grimy toilet. You didn't want it to be a five-minute escapade that would leave you disappointed and unfulfilled. It's obvious to say the drive home had been awkward.

You're so deep in thought that you don't notice when a man walks out from behind the beaded curtain and approaches the front desk. You don't notice him at all— not until he's standing in front of you with a small smile playing on his lips. Onyx eyes roll over you slowly, long hair of the same color tied back in a braid. There's a black dragon tattooed across the left side of his head, and you have the oddest urge to reach out and trace your fingers atop it.

“You must be my client for tonight.” His voice is deep and smooth like molasses and a trill runs down your spine as he wets his lips, “I’m Draken.”

“Hi… I’m (y/n).” You offer, extending your hand out to which he lifts a brow.

He repeats your name back to you, drawing it out like he savors the taste of it on his tongue, and then takes your hand in his. Instead of shaking it, he interlaces his fingers through yours and gives it a soft squeeze. “C’mon princess, ’m on the top floor.”

Nodding weakly, you’re practically in a daze as he leads you back through the curtain of sparkling beads and into an elevator that’s every bit as fancy as the room you were just in. He fishes out a silver key from his pocket before turning it into the lock beside the button labeled seven, and up you go.

The enclosed area only emphasizes how large he is compared to you, how much space he takes up. He’s well above six feet with broad shoulders and muscles that bulge inside the sleeves of his silk button-down. You can feel him watching you as you ascend but you don’t have the courage to meet his gaze. Tension bleeds into the air, and coupled with the stark silence, it’s nearly suffocating. You have to make a conscious effort to take deep breaths as you will your heart to calm down.

When the dinging of the elevator sounds like church bells, you aren’t surprised. You’re pretty sure heaven awaits you on the other side of these doors.

You find that heaven looks a lot like a bachelor’s pad. Filled with dark wood and sleek furniture, it’s a mini-paradise; complete with a fully stocked bar, a king-sized bed, and a balcony leading out to a hot tub. Music plays softly from the surround sound system and you breathe in the faint aroma of juniper and tobacco as you walk inside.

“I hope R&B is alright.” He squeezes your hand once more before letting go of it, kicking off his slippers and making his way over to the bar. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“A glass of water?”

His brow lifts again but he nods, “Sure.”

“Thank you.” You look around while he pours out your drinks, taking in the scenic view of the city below. “You have a very nice place.”

“You don’t have to do that, you know.” When you turn around, he’s standing behind you, holding out a glass of water with a shot of sake in his other hand. “Be so formal.”

“Ah, I’m sorry.” You quickly accept the drink, muttering out a quiet apology. You’d done so much in preparation for this moment, but not once had you ever thought about how awkward it would be in the beginning. You hadn’t thought to look into the… ‘etiquette’ of brothels. You settle on giving him an honest answer. “I’m not entirely sure how to act.”

There’s a knowing smile on his face as he reaches out and tilts your chin up. His thumb glides lightly across your cheek, the calloused fingertip burning where it touches your skin. “Just relax. I promise you, you’re in good hands. I’m gonna take good care of you tonight.”

You know the gesture is meant to help reassure you and lessen your nerves, but all it succeeds in doing is sending your pulse skyrocketing. Apprehension bubbles low in your stomach and your voice wobbles when you respond. “O-Okay..”

“Let me ask you a question.” His thumb moves from your cheek to your mouth, feather-light as it ghosts over the curve of your lips. “You haven’t done this before, have you, sweetheart?”

Your cheeks flare at his question, eyes widening in shock. Is it that obvious? “No, I haven’t.” You admit reluctantly, “I just— Well, I’m tired of waiting. I know the first time is supposed to be special, but… this is special in a way, right?” You watch as the comforting smile falls right off his face. His eyebrows furrow and you mimic the action, worrying what you’d said to elicit this type of reaction. “What? What’s wrong?”

He blinks at you as he processes the information and you can practically see the cogs turning in his head. “First time?” His expression turns serious, his hand dropping from your cheek. “I was talkin’ about coming to a brothel, not having sex.” He shakes his head, “Look, I’ll take you back downstairs. Sana will get you a full refund—”

“No!” You cringe when you blurt it out, interrupting him. “Please, you don’t understand. I want to do this. I’m sure of it.”

“It’s not a matter of if you’re sure or not.” His voice is stern now, taking on an edge that slices right through your pounding heart. “It’s a personal preference. I don’t sleep with virgins, not at work.”

“I— I can pay you more money, however much you want!” You know you sound desperate but that’s because you are. You’ve worked your ass off to get here, to have this experience, and now you’re grasping for straws as you feel it slipping through your fingers. “You don’t even have to accommodate me, just do your thing and—”

It’s his turn to interrupt you. “Do you have any idea what you’re saying?” You can hear the anger in his voice, it’s almost palpable. “You can’t just go around tellin’ people they can have their way with you. It’s your first time. You should be accommodated. Now, follow me. I’m walking you back down to the lobby.”

You don’t move when he walks back toward the elevator, keeping your feet planted on the hardwood floor. “If I should be catered to, then why don’t you do it yourself? Because if you take me back down to the lobby, I won’t be getting a refund. I’ll just ask for someone different.”

A muscle in his jaw feathers as it clenches, his eyes narrowing down at you as if that will help him discern whether you’re bluffing or not. But as you hold his gaze, unwavering and earnest, he realizes you’re telling the truth. Heaving a sigh, he brings a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. He should be calling security right now, have you escorted out of the building. He shouldn’t be entertaining the thought of conceding to your demands.

Yet, there’s something in your eyes as you stare up at him— a certain innocence that has him willing to break his rules. Just once. He’d indulge you this once, if only because he doesn’t trust anybody else here to treat you right. “…Fine, but we’re doing this my way.”

You exhale a breath you hadn’t known you’d been holding. “Thank you, Draken. It… that means a lot to me.”

“I know it does.” Normally, he isn’t so forgiving toward people who threaten him but he can recognize the desperation in your voice. And desperation can lead to dangerous things. Other men would take advantage of that, and for some reason, he hates the thought of some old sleazebag taking your first time. At least with him, he’d make sure you’re satisfied. “Here, let’s sit down.”

You take a seat on the edge of the bed, tugging your bottom lip between your teeth. “Should we… take off our clothes?”

Your heart flutters when a chuckle rumbles up from his chest. You’re as awkward as you are stubborn and he finds it strangely endearing. “No, not yet. We’re gonna take it nice and slow, m’kay?” He scoots closer, turning to face you. “But I am going to kiss you.” He raises a hand to your cheek, his thumb resuming its stroking. “If you want me to stop, all you have to do is say so.”

He waits until you nod before beginning to lean in, slowly so you still have every chance to change your mind. But when his lips press against yours, claiming them with a tender kiss, you know there’s no going back.

His lips are soft and warm as they move against yours, and you kiss him back— albeit clumsily because of how nervous you are. He doesn’t seem to mind though, more than willing to take the lead and pick the pace. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip, silently asking for permission to deepen the exchange, and you allow it, humming contently as the taste of spearmint and tobacco fills your mouth.

His hand moves to grip your jaw as the other trails up and down your side, and despite the shivers that ensue, it helps ground you in the moment, brings you back down to earth just in time for him to draw away. You’re left breathless, sucking in deep gulps of air to clear the dizziness that’s muddled your mind.

“You still want to do this?” Warm breath fans across your face, obsidian eyes searching yours for any sign of uncertainty. He doesn’t find any.

“Yes, please,” you whisper, “I meant it when I said I want to do this.”

That’s all the consent he needs before he captures your lips again, this time with an intensity that makes your head spin. His hands move to unbutton your blouse, slowly working their way down to the bottom and slipping it off your shoulders. He doesn’t break the kiss as he starts palming your breasts, massaging them over your bra, and you can’t help the whimper that rises up from your throat in response. His tongue continues to explore your mouth, tangling with yours until your core is throbbing with need.

“Gonna be a good girl f’me?” He murmurs against your lips, palms splayed across your chest. One of them snakes behind you and nimbly unclasps your bra, letting it fall forward just enough to give him a peek at what lies underneath. “Lay back.”

Your body responds naturally, following his order without hesitation. You pull away and lean back until you’re pressed against the mattress with him looming over you, his eyes drinking you in as he slips the garment off your shoulders. “Fuck…” He mutters, “Look at you.”

Your nipples pebble beneath his gaze, pretty and pert and begging to be played with. He licks his licks lustfully, rough hands coming down to cup and squeeze them. Your head turns to the side when he starts to pinch the peaks, rubbing them between his fingers and forcing another whimper to escape.

He maintains eye contact as he lowers down, plush lips wrapping around one only to flick his tongue over the bud. “Draken…”

“There you go,” he breathes out, pulling back to admire the view. “Just relax, baby.”

Unbuttoning his shirt, he shrugs it off, discarding it with the rest of your clothes before turning his attention back to you. “Don’t be afraid to touch me.” He leans forward and grabs your hands, moving to press them against his chest. You can feel his heartbeat if you concentrate, the rhythmic thumping beneath your palm. It’s a sharp contrast to yours which beats wildly against your ribcage, threatening to burst out of your chest.

With the sight before you, who can blame you?

His body is built and toned, corded muscles rippling across his torso and leading down to a delicious set of prominent v-lines. Your mouth waters as they flex and you drag your hands down to feel the hard ridges of his abdomen, a trail of dark hair descending down from his navel and disappearing into his jeans. You’re all but mesmerized.

“Like what you see?” He teases, his head dipping down to the curve of your neck. Straight white teeth graze across the tender flesh before suckling on your pulse point. All you can do is nod, your breathing shallow and uneven as his fingers continue tweaking your hardened nipples.

He knows the pace he’s setting is slow— deliberate— but he wants you more aroused than you’ve ever been, dripping wet for him when he finally takes you.

With soft pants falling from your lips, one of his hands slides down to your waist, his index finger dipping into the hem of your skirt. He could very well just pull it up, sneak his hand underneath it, but he resists the temptation, determined to make you squirm in anticipation.

And you do, every purposeful touch kindling the fire within you until it’s a blazing inferno. Your blood boils in your veins, your skin beautifully flushed. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say you’re in danger of overheating.

“Let’s get this off, yeah?” He mutters, letting the waistband of your skirt snap back against your skin. Your hips eagerly buck at the small sting, making it easy for him to tug it off and toss it onto the floor, and then he spreads your thighs apart to reveal a large damp spot in the middle of your panties. “Shit, so fuckin’ wet…” He curses, his eyes getting impossibly darker.

You nearly clamp your legs together as his eyes rove over you but the adoration in his expression bolsters you, gives you the confidence you need so badly. You stay still and let him look, trying to memorize the image of him between your thighs as he does.

Time seems to slow down. Seconds tick by and with each one that passes, you grow more and more uncomfortable. Your pussy aches, the desire he’s so carefully cultivated inside you becoming almost unbearable. But he either doesn’t notice the need swimming in your eyes, or he doesn’t care. He remains hovering over you, gaze zeroed in on your clothed cunt.

“Touch me,” the plea escapes you before you can stop it, and the corners of his lips tilt up into a small smirk. “Please.”

He hums as if he has to think about it. You’re about to start begging when his fingers press against you, applying enough pressure to make you mewl. “Don’t get greedy, princess.” He chastises gruffly, “You’ll take what I give you, remember?”

You nod obediently so he rewards you, circling your panty-clad clit until your hips are shifting back and forth. Moans fall freely from your lips but it still isn’t enough. You need more.

“Please,” you whine, eyebrows cinching together as you gaze up at him. “Draken, please…”

He hums again and hooks his fingers into the sides of your panties before dragging them down to your ankles. “Only ‘cause you asked so nicely.” Completely bared to him, apprehension saturates the air, your stomach doing backflips as he leans down and blows out a puff of air against your folds. When you clench at the sensation, a growl sounds. “Such a pretty little pussy.”

The pink flesh glistens in the dim lighting of the room, every inch soaked with arousal that drips down the inside of your thighs and onto the sheets beneath you. If you weren’t a virgin, he doesn’t think he’d even need to prep you.

Calloused fingers rub between your puffy folds, collecting your slick until his fingers are covered, and then one of his digits prods at your entrance, easing inside of you. Your back arches off the bed as he curves it in a come hither motion, your hands flying out to grip his shoulders. “Fuck..!”

You should be embarrassed at the deep laughter that leaves him but you can only focus on the way he’s knuckle deep inside of you, adding a second finger and beginning to thrust them both in and out. “Your reactions are s’cute. What if I were to just…” He trails off as he lowers down until he’s face-to-face with your pussy, and your hands strike out to grab his cheeks so you can hold him back.

“W-Wait..” You stammer before swallowing thickly, “It’s okay, you don’t have to—”

“Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“No, no… I just… No one’s ever…” Your blush spreads to the tips of your ears.

He cocks a brow up at you. “No one’s ever eaten you out?” But he already knows the answer. Your mortified expression is as good as any verbal indication. Shock flickers across his face, but he takes the new piece of information in stride, turning his head to the side and pressing a kiss against the inside of your thigh. “Lemme taste you, baby. You don’t need to be shy.”

Your insecurities melt away under his encouragement but when you merely nod, he nips at your skin. “No, use your words.”

“O-Okay.” You breathe out shakily, “Go ahead.”

The words have barely left your mouth when you feel his lips wrap around your clit, his tongue expertly swirling around the sensitive bud and tearing a gasp from your throat. His fingers resume their curling motions, and suddenly a familiar sensation begins building in your stomach. It reminds you of all the times you’ve touched yourself, all of the times you’ve worked yourself into a frenzy chasing your orgasm. You’d rut against your pillow only for your legs to start trembling, too weak to climb the last few inches to the peak.

Admittedly, your legs do start to shake, your body tense and on the verge of locking up. It’s like you’ve conditioned it to expect the worst, that you’ll get close enough to taste the high and then be denied like all of the other times you’ve attempted to pleasure yourself.

“Draken,” you moan, the sound so depraved you don’t recognize your own voice, “Don’t stop— p-please, don’t stop..!”

A groan erupts from his chest as your walls tighten around his fingers and the vibrations of it cause another wave of heat to wash over you, threatening to pull you out to sea and drown you in its depths. You’re so close, closer than you’ve ever been before.

It’s when his mouth suctions around your clit that you’re flung off the precipice. Pleasure blooms out from between your thighs, shooting through your limbs and out to the tips of your fingers. Your eyes squeeze shut as it consumes you, bleeds into all your senses until you’re writhing around in the sheets, hands blindly grasping for something— anything— to ground you.

Even then, he doesn’t stop. He keeps sucking, keeps licking, long fingers thrusting inside of you to prolong the orgasm for as long as possible. “Good girl.” He praises, drawing away when you finally come to. You’re panting from the physical exertion, pupils blown with desire as you slowly lift your head to look down at him. His lips, cheeks, and chin are shiny with your slick, and you’d probably be embarrassed if you didn’t feel so lightheaded.

“Thank you… that was amazing..” And even that was a gross understatement.

Rising up from between your legs, there’s a smug expression on his face. “Save the thank-you’s for later, princess. We’re not done yet.” As if to emphasize his point, his hands drop down to start unbuckling his belt, your eyes following suit and widening into saucers when you see the bulge in the front of his pants.

“Oh my god.”

It’s… he’s huge.

You watch with bated breath as he unzips his pants and lets them drop around his ankles, your eyes boring holes into him when he pulls down his boxers and reveals both the prettiest and thickest cock you’ve ever seen. The shaft is long and curved, the tip flushed and leaking. A large vein runs down the entirety of the length and you swear if you look hard enough, you can see it pulsing.

He grips the base of it, stroking it a couple of times before prowling forward. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?” A grin tugs at the corners of his lips. “Worried ‘s not gonna fit?”

“…Yes.” You squeak.

He chuckles at your candor, opening up a drawer on the bedside table and fishing out a small plastic square— a condom, you realize. It only takes him a moment to tear it open and slip it on, the action effortless from years of practice. “Don’t be scared. I told you I’d take care of you, didn’t I? I’m a man of my word if nothing else.”

Crawling onto the bed, he captures your lips in a kiss that can only be described as comforting. It’s slow and gentle, even when his tongue dips into your mouth, and his hands come up to cup your cheeks, holding you in such a way that you can’t help but feel cherished.

“I’m gonna start now,” he murmurs against your lips, “Remember, if you want me to stop, just say the word.” You nod in acknowledgment, and with that, he reaches down and lines himself up with your entrance, the tip of his cock prodding at your center. “Squeeze me as tightly as you need.”

Your hands shoot out to grip his shoulders right as he starts to push inside of you and your nails bite into his skin at the stretch, leaving crescent indents behind. A strangled noise bubbles up from your throat when pain takes hold of you, burning bright like the sun in the middle of summer.

“I know,” he rasps, his lips ghosting over the edge of your jaw, “I know it hurts. But it’ll feel better soon, I promise.” Tears prick at your eyes as he pushes deeper inside you, but soon his fingers are circling over your clit, blending the pleasure and pain until one is indiscernible from the other. “Just breathe, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”

His movements are so controlled, it’s impressive— even as the slew of foreign sensations threatens to overwhelm you, you’re able to recognize that much. His brows are furrowed in concentration, his breaths coming out in hot puffs that skate across your heated skin. And ever so slowly, he works you open, sinking into you inch by inch. By the time he’s bottomed out, a thin sheen of sweat covers his forehead, his voice strained when he says, “You did so well, baby, ‘m so fuckin’ proud of you.”

You only whimper in response, turning your head to the side so your cheek is pressed against the pillow. You feel so full, inhumanely full. So much so that you’re genuinely surprised you haven’t been split in half because, for all intents and purposes, that’s what it’d felt like. Your only saving grace is the way he hasn’t stopped rubbing your clit, hasn’t stopped praising you for taking him so well.

It’s a testament to his self-restraint the way he manages to remain still, buried deep inside you, while he patiently waits for your walls to adjust to his size. If he were a lesser man, he’d push aside your comfort, neglect your needs and pound into you to relieve his aching cock. But he waits, waits until your pained whimpers morph into soft moans, until you start to squirm beneath him as your body tries to create the friction it needs so badly.

“Move,” you beg, your hands sliding down from his shoulder to grab onto his hips, attempting to move them yourself. “Please… need you to move..”

A pair of large hands tug yours away from his waist before they pin them down on either side of your head. There’s no real force behind the maneuver but you don’t fight him off as he threads your fingers between his, just like he did earlier this evening. “Look at me, (y/n). I want you to look at me while I fuck you.”

Tentatively, you turn your head so you’re staring up at him. You’re not sure what he sees but approval shines in his eyes and a sincere smile graces his lips. “Good girl.”

With your eyes glued on his, he finally starts to move, drawing his hips back and pushing into you in small, shallow thrusts. Your lips part into a gasp, your breath hitching every time he’s fully hilted inside of you. Tears line your lashes but this time, they aren’t from pain. They’re from pure, unadulterated pleasure— the all-encompassing kind that leaves you in tatters on the floor.

“Feels s’good.. So fuckin’ tight.” He groans, his pace speeding up as more moans pour from your lips. The sound of skin slapping skin ensues and you cry out when he shifts his angle, the tip of his cock hitting a spot that makes your eyes roll.

Your pleasure heightens and you think that this must be euphoria as your tears overflow, spilling down your cheeks and dropping onto the pillow beneath your head. Yet, you don’t look away from him. You don’t dare shy away from his gaze, not even when the coil inside you begins winding tight, warning you of your impending orgasm.

He squeezes your hands as your body goes taut. You’re panting now— sucking in breath after breath as your bodies collide— but you can’t seem to get enough air. Up you climb, higher and higher until you begin to tremble beneath him, your hands holding onto his like they’re a lifeline.

“You gonna cum, baby?” He asks through gritted teeth, “Gonna cream on my cock?” He curses when you nod, dropping his forehead down so it rests against yours. “Well, go on then, princess. Make a fuckin’ mess.”

As if on command, the cord inside you abruptly snaps. A violent shudder wracks through your body, bliss clouding every single one of your five senses. It’s enough to wrench a deafening sob out of you, your back arching up off the bed so your chest is pressed firmly against his. He continues to drive into you as your walls pulsate around him and a growl reverberates up from his throat at the same time you feel his length twitch inside of you.

He stops after a few more thrusts, slowly pulling out of you and turning over to lie on his back. You whine quietly at the loss, but you’re too busy trying to catch your breath to complain.

“Shit…” He says, his head turning to look at you after a couple of minutes of silence, “How do you feel?”

Somehow, you summon up enough energy to smile through the exhaustion that’s seeped into your bones. “Definitely not like a virgin.”

He lets out a laugh at that, flashing you a brilliant white smile that makes his eyes crinkle at the sides. “Well, we’ve still got two hours left, sweetheart. Don’t go tappin’ out on me yet.”

[sheawritesstuff]

Wolfzilla

[I don't even know how to tag this,, but it's decently fluffy David being a groomzilla with a bit of anxiety comfort from Asher and Angel - 1089 words]

[Also I wrote this all on my phone so sorry if the format is off]

David Shaw was strong, confident, courageous. A leader through and through. He trusted not only himself, but his pack with every fiber of his being. 

But today, the day of his wedding, he was anxious - almost nauseous.

The photographer was asked to confirm their plans no less than five times. The caterers were grilled on exactly what food was going where and when. He insisted on supervising the placement of the decorations he chose personally. David tried his best to stay calm and polite, but his nerves were shot days ago and everyone was half-consciously walking on eggshells around him.

Right before the ceremony, the alpha ran around his dressing room, closely inspecting every groomsman from head to toe. Ties were quickly straightened, stray hairs were brushed into place, and every shoe was shined.

Even he'd admit it was a little much, but in the moment it felt like his whole nervous system depended on everything being perfect. He was damn near running on auto-pilot, barely even registering who's flowers he was pinning in place.

Until he got to Asher.

He stopped the other groom in his tracks as his face twisted with a mix of offense and disgust. He grabbed Ash's shoulders hard and gawked at the mess of fabric he donned.

“This,” David motioned at Asher's full body with his hand. “Makes you look like a hungover mess. Did you wake up in this or something?” The beta tried to mumble out an excuse but was quickly silenced. “No, no. I'll fix it just-” He sighed heavily. “Just stand still.”

David tugged on both ends of his best friend's bowtie, evening out the soft blue fabric. He gently adjusted the lacy blue collar against Asher's neck and tugged his suit jacket into place. David's hands made quick work of the little details, expertly gliding across Ash's torso and smoothing any wrinkles they met on their way. He carefully retucked his shirt and adjusted the waistband against his hips.

"C'mon Davey, it's fine! We gotta go," Ash laughed. "Wouldn't wanna miss our own wedding." David snapped his head up to glare directly into his friend's soul. 

"Fine is not fine today." He went back to subtly readjusting the beta's suit. "You are going to look perfect. If not for your sake, then for mine." Once the suit met his standards, he turned his attention to the multicolored curls atop Asher's head. He carefully ran his fingers through it and fluffed the hair up in some places while tamping it down in others. 

As David's hands reached the base of Ash's skull, his second in command stopped him. With two hands wrapped around his best friend's wrists, Asher directed David's eyes to meet his own.

"Hey, buddy." He pushed his head forward slightly to bump his forehead against David's. "You've gotta breathe for a second, ok? Just take a breath and calm down." The immediate reaction was another glare accompanied by a twitch of the alpha's eyebrow. "Come on," he continued, squeezing David's wrists lightly. "In." He dramatically inhaled and waited for the other to follow suit. "And out." They exhaled together, the tension filling the groom-to-be's body eased just enough to get him back in working order.

“Thanks, Ash,” David sighed. “I'll take a second and just…” His voice trailed off as he shut his eyes, still holding his best friend close. They took a few more slow, deep breaths together before finally pulling away and continuing where they left off. 

David continued putting everyone where they needed to be, lining them up and making sure they knew their cues. The tiny details were less important this time around, though. He needed to trust his pack, not just his plan.

As their entry time grew nearer, the little ball of anxiety reared its head again. He took his phone from his pocket and absent-mindedly dialed his mate's number. By the time he remembered he was minutes away from seeing them, they had already answered.

“Davey? Is everything ok?” Angel sounded nervous and a little winded on the other end. “Why are you calling? Did something happen?”

“No, nothing happened. Everything is ok,” He paused for a second to smile. “The nerves were just getting to me a bit and I wanted to hear your voice.”

Angel sighed, half with relief and half with annoyance. “Well then, hello,” They giggled. “How are things over on that side of the aisle?”

“They're… fine. As long as everyone makes their entrance at the right time we'll be good. Is everything ok over there?”

“It's been a little chaotic, but I think we worked it out. We'll make it through one way or another.” The sound of fabric shuffling was clearly audible along with unintelligible chatter in the background. “Alright, baby, I'm gonna have to let you go so I can finish up, ok? I love you.”

David smiled at his phone and relaxed his shoulders. “I love you, Angel. I'll see you in a bit.” He ended the call and breathed the vague nervousness out of his system. He flexed his hands a few times, checked his pockets, and gave everyone one last look over before he officially lined them up outside the door.

“You ready to become a married man, buddy?” Asher asked, draping his arm across his best friend's shoulders. David nodded.

“Are you?”

“Absolutely. If it was up to me, I would've been locked down months ago. But somebody needed to be a total control freak.” He squeezed David's shoulder, earning him a solid groan and an eye roll. “But this wedding is definitely better than whatever I could've whipped up on my own. So I think it balances out.”

“Control freak, huh? I'll remember that.” 

The song starting up pulled them from their riveting conversation and led them to their places at the end of the line. There was no backing out now. Once he stepped foot in that room, he wasn't leaving without his spouse by his side. In less than an hour, he'd be a husband. How surreal. His mind raced as he walked down the aisle to where he'd finally marry the love of his life.

The sight of his mate walking through the door was enough to make it all worth it. He'd go through the planning, the nerves, the late nights all over again just to see them all done up and glowing like that on the other end of the room. Even if it wasn't perfect, they made it all worth it.

[swampstew]

What's the Magic Word?

Chapter 26: Kid the Cyborg

Smut chapter

It took a several days of arguing before Kid finally agreed to reach out to the Heart Pirate’s Captain, Trafalgar Law. He was pissy about the ordeal, more so when Rowena said she could get in touch with him.

“Why do you have his fucking number?” he had grumbled at her.

“I make friends easily.”

Using her new transponder snail who had happily accepted its new role, she dialed the number. “Hello?”

“Hi Law, its Rowena!”

“Rowena-ya! Wasn’t expecting to hear from you. I saw your latest bounty, keep it up, you might be more pirate than Witch,” he commented.

“Uh-huh thanks. I was wondering where you are because we could use your medical skills.”

“We? Is Eustass-ya there with you?”

“He is.”

“What happened?”

“He lost an arm and we need your help.”

“Hmmmmm,” the line was quiet and Kid glared at the snail. “Sure, I’ll do you Straw Hats another favor. You’re lucky I find you and your crew amusing.”

“You’re a real gem. These are our coordinates,” and the Witch set up the appointment.

Law was relatively close by and would be at their island in two days. Kid slumped in his seat as the call ended. He didn’t want to rely on Law for help but he didn’t have any other choice. Rowena sat in his lap, wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed his tense jaw. He took her hand and ran his thumb over her ring – he had given them back the morning after their talk in the Crow’s Nest and he swore on Killer’s life he would never take them from her again.

“You know you can always wear a ring on this hand. Or if you want, we can tattoo the wedding bands on,” she offered.

“Maybe,” he said, not committing.

“I don’t care if you don’t want to wear one at all. I just want to make you happy.”

“I…will be,” he groaned.

“What’s up?” she looked at him with concern.

“…I’m horny,” he admitted, not meeting her eyes.

Pent up was what he was. So much shit had happened, like a domino effect of bad luck, and he was acutely aware he hadn’t touched Rowena intimately in ages. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cum either. Embarrassed that he couldn’t satisfy himself while he adjusted to his handicap.

Rowena was relieved it was something so simple. “Is that all? I’ll take care of you babe, lean back.”

He tried to resist at first but when she ripped her shirt open and pressed her tits against his chest, he allowed her to take control. She kissed him ravenously as she took his flesh hand and made him cup a boob with her hand cupping the other. Together they played with her tits taking turns teasing her nipples, Kid would switch between pinching and licking the perked skin.

Rowena slowly grinded on his thigh and his cock responded immediately, pitching a strained tent in his pants.

“Can I?” she asked looking at him through her lashes; he nodded eagerly while sucking on her tit.

She began rubbing his length through the cloth, letting out a low whine when he throbbed. As she gripped and slowly rubbed him, she whispered in his ear, “I’m going to run my tongue up and down your cock and swirl my tongue on your tip, lapping up your precum. I want to suck on your balls while I fuck you with my hands.”

He groaned obscenely, almost feeling lightheaded from all the blood pooling south.

She unbuckled his belt and removed his pants, slowing down any time he tried to rush her.

“We have all the time in the world baby. Let me take my time while I choke on your cock,” she breathed as she dragged her fingers on his dick through his briefs. His cock bobbed up violently and left a large, wet spot on the fabric. She licked the spot, giggling.

“Mmm. Try to control yourself Kid, you’re wasting valuable cum that should be shooting down my throat,” she smiled at him and he swore he felt himself go hard as steel.

Rowena shoved his briefs and pants to his ankles and began to lick his cock, running her tongue on the smooth skin along the thick veins the ran down his length. She kissed the head of his cock before taking only the tip in her mouth and she sucked and swirled her tongue on it; he fisted his hand in her hair and pushed her down until her mouth was flushed against his pelvis, his curly hair tickled her nose and it made her hum, making Kid shudder from the sensation.

She slowly pulled back and then took him all in again, bobbing up and down his length slowly. Rowena made delicious sounding groans and sighs that edged him on, he thrusted his hips desperate to bury himself down her throat. Tears ran down her face as she took his entire length and she moaned louder, sucking harder on him, drool dripping from the base of his shaft.

“Ro’ I want you to sit on my cock,” he grunted, pulling her off him.

The Witch took her time peeling her layers off, touching  and squeezing her curves for him as he clumsily jacked off watching her. That excited her so she sat up on his desk, legs spread open and she began to rub her clit as he watched her.

“Finger yourself, work yourself open for me,” he whispered.

“Mmmm ok but you know I love it when your cock splits me open,” she said, finger in her mouth.

Kid rose to his feet but she used a leg to push him back down. She slipped a finger inside her core and with her free hand, tweaked her nipples again; her eyes watching him as he watched her. He began to pump himself faster and she tsked at that, standing up. She made his flesh arm wrap around her waist as she climbed into his lap and lined up his cock to her entrance. She lowered her hips enough that his tip pressed against her slick covered lips and he groaned, grabbing a handful of her ass and squeezing harshly.

Rowena lowered herself again, just enough to allow his tip inside as she sat on it, moving up, down and around. He groaned again, trying to push her down further but she resisted, gathering her spilled juices on her fingers and fed him.

As Kid sucked on her fingers, she let herself fall on his cock; his hard member pushed through her folds easily and he was halfway inside her before he couldn’t go further. As her body adjusted to his length, his cock quickly filled her up until he was completely sheathed inside her pussy. He looked down at their joined bodies as she lifted herself up and dropped back down.

Her moans were throaty and filled with desire, Kid watched her gyrate on him as he tried to keep himself from busting too soon. Rowena leaned backwards a little, using his arm on her waist for support as she bounced on his cock and rubbed her clitoris.

“Oh Kid, I love your big, fat cock,” she wailed as she bounced faster, his hips bucked up hard trying to match her pace. She was gushing with wetness on him.

“Ro,’ slow down, I’m gonna cum,” he grunted.

She did not stop her speed, “I want you too, I’m your little cum receptacle. Use my body, I want to make you feel so, so good,” she purred.

With a growl, Kid shot up holding her against him with his good arm, he laid her on his desk as he hunched over her. Gripping her shoulder tightly, he slammed his hips against her, coaxing his release to the surface. She wrapped her legs around his waist bringing him in deeper. He rutted against her and she whimpered and moaned about how good he felt inside her – and that was all it took for him to let go. Kid crashed into her a few more times as he shot ropes inside her with a guttural yell; she kept him tightly against her, not allowing him to pull out.

He laid his face down into her neck as he steadied his breathing while she held him, running her hands through his hair and whispered sweet nothings in his ear.

“I was selfish there, did you cum?”

“No but that’s ok. I only focused on your pleasure this time.”

Kid shook his head, “What kind of man am I if I don’t get my woman off? Sit up a little and stay on the desk, this won’t take long.”

She did as he said and when she was in position, he pulled his cock from her body. Using his thumb, he pressed down on her clitoris rubbing in a circular motion. She closed her eyes and hummed at the feeling. He watched as her pussy throbbed and a mixture of her slick and his cum dripped from her.

Leaving her clit, he pushed his fingers into her pussy and he felt his cum flow out as he pumped her. His hand was covered in white and sticky fluids as he finger-fucked her faster, rubbing the spongey spot inside her. Her walls began to clench on him and he raised his thumb back over her clit at an unforgiving pace. It took a few minutes and she came with force; his fingers felt crushed against her pulsating walls and his thumb was drenched as his ministrations caused her to squirt, wetting his hand and floor.

“You never told me you’re a squirter,” he smirked at her, wiggling his fingers inside her eliciting a whimper from the Witch.

“I never knew I was.”

“I’ll have a lot of fun with that in the future,” pulling his hand from her body. “Thanks Ro’ that made me feel…like I’m almost myself again.”

She smiled sweetly at him, standing up and wrapping him into a hug against her naked body. He could feel his cock stirring again and made no motion to move as he swelled against her hip.

“Do you want to try in the bath this time?” she asked, looking at him with mischief in her eyes. He nodded, grinning at her.

𓏧 𓏲 𓏲 𓏲 𓋒 𓏲 𓏲 𓏲 𓏲 𓏧

Law’s submarine surfaced at the Kid Pirate’s hideaway just before noon. Rowena waved at him from the top of the Dinosaur skull, Kid stood on the main deck waiting as Law walked up the boarding plank.

“Sup?” He looked at them with a mixture of boredom and amusement. He was carrying a small guitar with him, which he immediately held out to Rowena. Kid started to snarl as the Witch became visibly excited.

“My ukulele! Did I leave it behind when I was visiting Luffy?”

“Yup. Bepo got a hold of it and gnawed on the headstock, sorry about it.”

She strummed some chords and nodded when it was still working well. “No worries! This was the first thing I ever stole for myself,” she hugged it to her chest.

Law snorted at that and walked up to the red headed Supernova, “Those injuries look a bit old Eustass-ya, you could have called me sooner.”

“It happened weeks ago,” Kid replied coldly. Law frowned at that and leaned his face too close to Kid’s personal space. He turned as red as his hair and growled at him, “Oi back off!”

Law scowled at him, “I’m a doctor I have to inspect these closely. You said weeks ago? That can’t be, this scar tissue looks at least a year or more old. Do you have an infirmary or something?”

“We have a doctor and an infirmary,” Kid grunted as he turned and walked away. Law watched him before clicking his tongue at the curt departure.

“Welcome to the Victoria Punk!” Rowena waved her hand in the air. “This way. Where’s your crew?”

“I dropped them off on Bepo’s home island. Why are you on this ship? I was surprised when I read your Wanted Poster. Nice ring.”

“Thanks. Uhh that’s a bit of a long story, I’m here for now but I’m going back to my crew.”

“You’re a weird bunch – keep your secrets then.”

Law’s gloved hands ran over Kid’s body as he inspected the scars and arm stump, performing tests and making notes. Rowena was impressed with Kid’s ability to sit still for so long without being, well himself. Law took off his gloves and leaned against UK’s desk, slightly disturbing the ship’s doctor.

“You want help to hook up a prosthetic arm to your central nervous system?”

Kid grunted an affirmative.

“Sure, I can do that in my sleep. But I want to know, Witch, how did you heal an injury this extensive?”

“Magic, obviously.”

“Clearly, but how? You sealed a severed artery and cauterized the wound without any burn marks; didn’t cause any nerve or tissue damage; prevented all infections; you closed all the traumatic wounds so cleanly that it doesn’t even look like you stitched the skin together, and the way its healed, the way the skin is aged…This isn’t just medically treating wounds, you regenerated parts of his body. I’m surprised you didn’t regrow the arm outright. Can you do that?”

“NO!” Kid snapped and Law frowned at him.

“No, can’t do it. It takes a toll,” Rowena looked at her ukulele sadly.

The lanky Supernova tsked before shoving off the desk. “Room,” he held his hand out and Rowena felt a sensation surround them. Killer straightened up from the wall he was leaning on and walked towards Law.

“What are you going to do to him?”

“I’m going to need to implant some circuits so that a mechanical arm can be attached to his body and respond to his nervous system. It will act as a regular arm, able to respond to commands from the brain so he doesn’t need to depend on his fruit all the time to move it. I need to connect the circuits in the spine and frontal lobe and reactivate the neurons and nerves to respond to the circuits. Is it safe to assume you already have a prosthetic? If not I can make one.”

“We have one. How long will this take?” Kid grumbled.

“Not long at all. Show it to me and we can get started.”

The operation took five hours and when Law was done, Kid had a massive mechanical arm replacing his severed arm. Rowena watched with wide eyes the entire time, Killer too behind his mask.

“Law are you a Witch?”

He looked at her and smirked, “No it’s my Devil Fruit power. I ate the Ope Ope fruit and it allows me to manipulate anything within my Room.” He began swapping objects around the space.

“I don’t know, that looks a loooooot like transmutation and telekinesis magic,” she squinted her eyes at him.

He held his hands up at her in surrender, dismissing his Room, “I swear it’s a Devil Fruit.”

“Sure, sure. I just need to test that,” She raised her hand at him.

“Wh-what are you doing?” He looked at her with furrowed brows.

“Juuust checking,” and a jet stream of ocean water forcefully crashed through the door creating a hole. It hit Law and drenched him, he fell to his knees weakened. “Ok, you’re good, sorry about that.”

“Rowena stop fucking breaking my ship!”

“I had to know!”

“Why?” Killer tilted his head at her. All three men looked at her.

“I told you once that there were only women in my coven – there was a reason for that. Male Witches are forbidden and if we ever encounter one, we have a duty to…eliminate them.”

They all looked at her in shock.

“You would have killed me? What the fuck?!” Law glared at her from the ground.

“I…wouldn’t want to. But I needed to know. I mean, Heat’s still alive after all.”

“Heat’s a Witch?!” Killer grabbed Rowena’s arm while Kid’s eyes bugged from his head.

“Kinda sorta? Maybe. I don’t really know. He’s an odd one, I haven’t figured it out yet.”

“Why is that your duty?” Kid used his mechanical arm to push himself off the bed with a pained groan, walking over to her.

“I don’t have the whole truth of it but that is one of our laws. It’s been an executive directive set in place since the Void Century. Any males found to be practicing Witchcraft would be put to death because males can’t be trusted with power like that. They find ways to defile it.”

“Then why didn’t you kill Heat?” Killer still held his grip on Rowena.

“Because…well because he’s Heat! I can’t imagine him doing anything like that, let alone try to kill him. He’s like…one of my best friends on this crew.” Killer finally let her go.

“HEAT’S YOUR BEST FRIEND?!” Kid squawked, hurt reflected in his eyes.

Law narrowed his eyes at her, slowly pulling himself up. “Interesting. Oh yeah, that reminds me. I want to have a conversation with you Rowena-ya.”

Kid stepped between them, “What about?”

“That’s between me and her.”

The two men glared at each other, getting in each other’s face and bickering. Killer had to step in to separate them. Rowena tugged on Kid’s coat bringing him to her as she began touching his metal arm curiously.

“While we thank you for your generosity with our situation, what exactly do want with her?” Killer asked.

“I just want to talk…about her namesake.”

“What’s so interesting about my name?”

Law frowned at her, “Do you know about the Will of D?”

“No…what is that?”

“This is really more of a private conversation,” Law responded, looking at Kid and Killer.

Rowena started towards Law but Kid grabbed her hand, giving her a look.

“I’m intrigued. I’ll be right back and we can take a walk, Law. There’s a book I want to grab first,” and she left the infirmary.

Kid marched up to Law’s face, “Thanks for the help but if you do anything fucky with or towards her, I will rip you apart limb from limb.”

Law looked at him amused, “Don’t worry Eustass-ya, I’m not interested in her like that. Although if you two ever split, I could be,” he smirked as Kid gave him a death glare. Killer escorted the Heart Pirate Captain to the deck while Kid went to his cabin.

He walked in as Rowena was flipping through a book, “What’s that?”

“Blood Lineage and the Power of Names, I came across it a while back and then forgot about it. It’s weird though, there were pages ripped from this book. And I don’t see any mention of anything about the name D. Do you know what he’s talking about?”

“Not a clue but keep me posted. And be careful around him, I don’t trust him.”

“You don’t trust anyone. You should try it sometime, the man did just help you.”

Kid rolled his eyes and followed Rowena out as she grabbed his hand, pulling him with her.

It was a pretty short conversation, which Kid was relieved about. They were back within an hour and Law said his goodbyes as he left. Rowena sat on the railing as she watched the submarine dive below water, waving at the periscope as it swiveled back to face the ship before disappearing. Kid joined her on the railing and put his arm around her shoulder as they watched the sun set.

“That was not the conversation I was expecting,” she said quietly. His hand tightened over her.

“Did he make you uncomfortable?”

“No nothing like that. It’s just…he said that people who carry the name D. – they’re all from the Family of D, and they’re referred to as the Natural Enemies of God.”

Kid frowned at that, not knowing what she was talking about.

“Fuck it’s like I’m cursed or something,” she chuckled darkly.

“How do you mean?”

“Well, it explains my bounty now – the World Government knows my true name even if I don’t understand the implications. And they control the Marines who slaughtered my coven because they feared our power, but maybe it was just me they feared.”

He pulled her into his chest, “They’re right to fear you. You’re the most powerful Witch around.”

She looked at him, cheeks squished between his pecs.

“And you’re going to be even more powerful by the time you face them head on. I fully expect that if anyone can take them down, it’d be me but you’re a close second.” He smirked at her as she giggled, burying her face in his chest.

“Let’s have dinner out on the upper deck, we haven’t done that in a while,” he stroked her hair. She nodded enthusiastically and they turned to head into the ship when she froze.

“Who is that?” she asked with wide eyes. Kid narrowed his eyes; the main deck was completely empty except for them.

“There’s no one there.”

“You’re telling me you don’t see that blonde-haired man with a tattoo under his eye and lipstick splitting his face in half?”

“No?”

“Huh…must be a ghost.” She stared at the spot where Law had stood not even 10 minutes ago. “He has a kind smile. I wonder who he was.”

Kid repelled his dagger towards the direction she was staring at but it didn’t hit anything and flew off ship before he attracted it back.

“You can’t kill a ghost, Kid. He’s gone anyways. Let’s go eat.”

Reclining on a blanket, Kid and Rowena watched the stars together, full from the meal she had made. She was tucked under his coat and had her arms wrapped around his waist. He moved his mechanical arm about trying to get used to it. Her fingers traced along the wires and circuit Law had implanted in his body.

“Did it hurt?”

He shook his head, making a fist with his robotic arm. Kid scowled at his arm as it fell to the floor with a loud thunk, wood splintered on impact.

He growled in frustration, “Fucking arm.”

“It’ll take time,” she kissed his neck.

He lifted his arm again and laid his metal hand on her thigh, giving it as gentle a squeeze he could manage. She let out a hiss of pain.

“Goddamnit,” he gritted his teeth. “I don’t want to hurt you, as a cyborg or monster pirate.”

“So what if you’re part cyborg? I think you look badass! Besides, I thought you liked robots. You just need to give yourself time,” she hugged him as hard as she could, which made him chuckle dryly.

“You’re not nearly strong enough, princess.”

“I’m not even trying that hard,” she lied, sticking her tongue out at him.

“Suuuure, keep telling yourself that. It doesn’t help that you destroyed the gym.”

“Blame Katakuri for that, he left me no choice.”

“There go your gains.”

Rowena huffed at him, pretending to be annoyed and that made him chuckle again.

“So totally unrelated but Killer told me your birthday is coming up soon. How do you normally celebrate?”

“We party and get fucked up, pretty standard as birthdays go.”

“Do you want anything special for your present?”

“Can you magically raise my bounty with the government?”

“Let me rephrase. Do you want anything reasonable within my range of power for your birthday?”

Chuckling, “No, not really. Just you and my crew are all I need.”

“Aw so sentimental,” she kissed him. He viciously nipped her lip. “Ow, fucker!”

“What about you? I don’t even know when your birthday is. What do you do to celebrate?”

Rowena looked sad and Kid cradled her chin with his flesh hand.

“I haven’t celebrated it since the…slaughter. Kinda hard to do when you’re imprisoned for several years.” He rubbed her jaw with his thumb. “My birthday is in the summer, only six months after yours.”

“Do you have any good memories celebrating with your coven?”

“Yeah plenty, but my favorite one was on my eighth birthday. My sisters did something special for me that day.”

“Tell me about it,” Kid started to lean back but she stopped him.

“I can show you, come on.”

Inside their cabin, Rowena brought her crystal ball to his desk and they sat together as she began to hover her hands over it. Purple smoke began to fill the ball and as it swirled, it brought out one of her memories.

A very young and short Rowena was running around the beach on the Island of Thorns wearing a paper crown that was threatening to fall off. Three girls ran down the beach to meet her as she hopped up and down. Young Rowena’s hair was much shorter but it was full and thick, wavy hair springing out in all directions under the crown. The three girls picked her up, threw her in the air, and suspended her above them. Rowena screamed and giggled as she kicked freely, trying to manipulate air to move about. ‘Happy birthday Rowena!’ they shouted at her. The tallest girl had purple hair in a square bob and she pulled her glasses down winking at the young girl, ‘We have a big surprise for you, I hope you’re excited.’ ‘I am I am!’ the little girl squealed as she used wide sweeps of her arms to gently bring herself to the ground. ‘Good because today we’re going to make your birthday wish come true!’ said the second girl, she was slender and tall but not as tall as the purple haired girl. This person had strawberry blonde hair pulled back in a neat ponytail. She held something behind her back with a huge grin. ‘What’s your dream Rowena?’ the third and shorter girl of the three asked, this one was stout with flowing white hair. ‘To go out into the world and use our magic to help those who need it!’  The three older girls grinned and each held out a closed fist in front of them, with the strawberry blonde holding out a second closed fist, motioning to Rowena. The young Witch closed her fist and bumped her sister’s fist to their amusement. ‘No sweetie, it’s inside my hand, hold out yours.’ Rowena did as she was told and the girl dropped a large raw gemstone in her hand. ‘Do you recognize what that is?’ ‘Rose quartz? Gasp. Prudence, does this mean what I think it means?!’ the young Witch was shaking in anticipation. The strawberry blonde grinned widely and opened her hand, inside hers was a large, pure white pearl that sat perfectly inside her palm. Rowena shrieked. ‘Mallory, Chandra show me yours!’ The tallest girl, Mallory, held out her hand and she revealed a polished garnet stone. The stout one, Chandra, opened her palm to show a small amethyst cluster. ‘What shall we call ourselves?’ smiled Mallory as she pulled out a worn ukulele from her waist bag. ‘Let’s see. The Gemstone Coven?’ The girls agreed enthusiastically. ‘What do we stand for?’ ‘To never abuse our power,’ Prudence stood proudly. ‘To always choose kindness,’ Chandra flicked her crystal in the air, caught it, and crossed her arms over her chest. ‘To always love our friends!’ Rowena jumped up and down while holding Prudence’s hand. ‘To always help those around us,’ Mallory strummed the instrument.  ‘Let’s do it girls, just like we’ve practiced. Let’s make our unbreakable vow to be the change we want to see in the world.’ The four Witches stood on the shoreline as Mallory began to play a melody. They recited a song in a foreign language that caused their respective stones to glow lightly. ‘Now let’s see who else we can recruit!’ the girls laughed as they raced up the beach towards the tree line.

Kid laughed giddily as the orb cleared up, “That was cute, you’re very cute, honey. Who were they?”

“They were my best friends. There were different aged girls in the coven but those three were the ones I was always around, especially when my mother was off hunting for antiquities. She wasn’t there for that birthday. They always took care of me.”

He leaned down to kiss her cheek, “Did you keep the rose quartz they gave you?”

Rowena pulled out her wand and there on the end was the gem from the memory.

“I thought the fire destroyed it with my wand, but the quartz was in my hand when I woke up on the pyre. I kept it hidden for years. Made this wand with some of the Adam Wood Franky has for ship repairs and reattached the gem to it. It didn’t glow like back then though.”

“I’m sorry your friends are gone,” he said softly.

“They live in my memories and my heart so they’ll never truly be gone,” she replied.

“Damn, I’m gonna have to do everything to top that birthday.”

Rowena giggled, “You don’t need to top it, I loved everything about that day. But now I can make new memories and I’m glad I’ll be able to celebrate at least one with you.”

Kid froze, “Wait shit, we already passed yours didn’t we?” She nodded and shrugged.

“Damnit Ro’ why didn’t you say anything?”

“We had other things going on then. Remember the pregnancy scare?”

He nodded, smacking himself at the realization. “Wow what a shitty way to spend your birthday, now I’m definitely going to have to go all out.”

Read on AO3

[chaotic-archaeologist]

Field Notes: touring Fredericksburg and Chancellorsville battlefields, driving to my internship.

30.05.2023.

Battlefields are always strange. The land has been preserved; set aside; designated as hallowed ground. Often, they are beautiful, maintained with landscaping and paths while strip malls and highways encroach at the edges.

The air is sweet with the smell of freshly cut grass. Birds are singing. I am walking on a tidy gravel path that is bordered by a low stone wall. The scene couldn’t be more picturesque if it tried. It’s hard to believe that 160 years ago, thousands of Union soldiers flung themselves at this wall only to be slaughtered by the Confederates lined up behind it.

This is Marye’s Heights, and it’s where much of the memorialization efforts of Fredericksburg have been focused. Terraced rows of the dead line the hill overlooking the town (this is the Federal cemetery, the Confederate dead are buried elsewhere). Reading plaques about Lee and Jackson’s victory is a little disconcerting when there are Union ghosts looking over your shoulder. Maybe that’s the point.

In the town of Fredericksburg itself, I see my first Confederate flag bumper sticker. It’s small—not much larger than a deck of playing cards, but it’s there. At least it makes more sense here than the ones I’ve seen in Michigan.

For lunch, I go to Benny’s on a friend’s recommendation and get a slice of pizza larger than my head for around $6. Since the money from my stipend hasn’t been processed yet, it will do some double duty as part of my dinner (since my car is so full, it does the remainder of the journey riding in the passenger footwell, but don’t worry—it was in its own bag).

Visiting just Fredericksburg seems silly when there are so many other battlefields nearby. Only Chancellorsville has its own visitor center, which holds the interpretation for its eponymous battle as well as the Wilderness and Spotsylvania Courthouse. That’s a lot of death to pack into one building, but they do a decent job. When I ask the ranger working there, he tells me that they updated the visitor centers for the two battlefields back in 2014. (This was their first update since their opening in the 1960s. Yikes.)

This visitor center also has to compete with the little walking trail memorializing the fatal wounding of Stonewall Jackson. Various stone markers are scattered across the grounds like so many poisonous mushrooms.

Much like Fredericksburg, the Chancellorsville battlefield is beautiful. At the ranger’s advice, I spend most of my time at stops 3, 9, and 10 on the self-guided walking tour. Stops 9 and 10 are opposite placements of an artillery duel between the two armies. The earthworks (called lunettes, the sign informs me) from the Union position are still visible under neatly trimmed grass.

At stop 10, there is a meadow covering what used to be a field hospital (emphasis on field, not so much on hospital) where wounded Union prisoners were left to the elements for several days until doctors could arrive from Washington. Signs talk of the screams and the smell, but it’s almost impossible for me to conjure up a mental image of such suffering in such a lovely place. If I died a horrible death, would I want the area to smooth over the suffering with time? Yes. Yes, I think I would.

The interpretation at these two battlefields definitely skews Southern. The monuments are, by and large, Confederate. The plaques are about Confederate army movements. When the Union army is mentioned, it’s usually because Lee or Jackson are doing something to hapless Burnside and Hooker. One gets the impression that the blue exists as a foil for the grey.

These are Southern victories on Southern land, and credit where credit’s due, they’ve turned down the Lost Cause dial quite a bit. The fact that Lee came away from both confrontations victorious leads itself towards a narrative that matches his brilliance against the blunders of his Union counterparts, and I don’t feel like the parks have done enough to counter that. Slavery is talked about, but nowhere is it explicitly condemned. Ultimately, National Parks have to lean towards the middle ground while also making do with whatever funds they’re given. The ranger said that they were allotted something like one third of the budget they asked for in 2013, and that’s certainly a limiting factor. I’ll be paying close attention to how the signage compares to that at Gettysburg when I return there later this summer.

When 3 o’clock hits, I climb back in my car and hit the road. This part of the drive is where we get into the Blue Ridge mountains, which are beautiful but also come with reduced speed limits. There are still some cars that think we should be going 90, but as a Midwesterner used to the flatlands, I stick to the right hand lane and let them do their own thing.

It starts to mist as I near my final destination. Even though it’s not that hot outside, it’s so humid that I have to have the AC on. The mountains are steaming as I pull into town. And wow, the mountains really are blue, verging on purple. Country Roads isn’t playing on the radio, but it should be.

So my first year of grad school was bracketed by rain and Civil War battlefields (if my life were a movie, they would call that a cinematic parallel). What this internship has in store for me, I don’t really know. That—along with some grocery shopping—is a problem for Tomorrow Reid.

[lady-lostmind]

Glimpse

for Stobin Month prompt: Ghost

Thank you @oh-stars for betaing this!

WC: 845 | Rating: T | CW: Grief, Loss of parents.

ao3 link

Steve stares at Robin, concern washing over him as he watches her face drop, her hand clutching onto the phone in her hand tighter. She just freezes. Staring straight ahead, no longer answering the person on the other end of the line. 

Steve reaches forward, grabbing her shoulder. “Robs?”

She doesn’t respond. Steve gently tugs the phone out of her hand, bringing it up to his ear and hearing the dial tone ring out. He reaches over Robin and hangs up the phone before grabbing both her shoulders and turning her to face him. “Robin, what happened?” 

Her wide eyes blink at him and her head gives a tiny shake. 

Steve’s heart slams in his throat, mind running through every worst case scenario he can think of. Maybe that was one of the kids calling to say that Max– or it was Hopper, calling with news from El. They have to fight again. It’s back already. They didn’t actually win–

Steve sucks in a deep breath, closing his eyes to steady himself. He can’t help if he doesn’t actually know what’s going on. He opens his eyes again and brushes a stray hair out of Robin’s face. 

“Robin, babe. I need you to tell me what’s happening. Let me help.” 

Robin sucks in a shuddering breath, tears gathering in her eyes. “My parents–”

Steve’s heart sinks and he gathers Robin in his arms, holding her tight as sobs rack through her body and she soaks the front of his shirt.

–

Steve cracks open the door to Robin’s room with a soft knock. They’ve been in this apartment for a few weeks. Steve couldn’t let her go back to that empty house, and didn't want to go back to his. Got them into the first place he could afford when things finally died down. He insisted on giving her the bigger room, even though most nights end with both of them piled in Steve’s bed. 

Steve walks over to where Robin is buried in blankets on her bed, crouching down and running his thumb along her cheek. “Hey, Robs. You wanna come eat some dinner? I ordered Chinese.”

Rob shakes her head, pulling the blanket up close around her face. Steve sighs, leaning in to press his forehead to hers. “You gotta eat, babe.” 

Robin just closes her eyes and takes a shuddering breath. Steve presses a kiss to her cheek and smooths her hair before getting up again. 

“Okay. I’ll come back and check on you in a little bit.” 

He eases himself out of her room, shutting the door behind him. Not all days are this bad. Sometimes Robin even manages to be out of her room the majority of the day. Sometimes Steve can coax her into coming with him to run errands, or visit Max. Sometimes he sees a glimpse of her again. A snarky remark will slip through, a hint of that laugh he misses so much. But on days like today, it’s like he’s living with the ghost of his best friend. No matter what he does he can’t seem to find her. Can’t seem to break through the layers of grief that surround her.  So he tries to just make sure she knows he’s there. In whatever way she needs.

He gives her another hour before he warms up some of the dinner he’d hoped would pull her from her room and heads back down the hall. He knocks to let her know he’s coming in and then sets the food on the table by her bed before climbing in with her and wrapping his arms around her from behind. She sucks in a deep breath, and he can tell she’s fighting tears. Knows she’s tired of them. But he also knows if she stops fighting them so hard, she might feel a little better. Might be able to eat and settle her empty stomach. Might be able to sleep tonight. 

He rubs her shoulder with one arm and pulls her in tight with the other. “I’ve got you. It’s okay.” 

Robin lets out a heavy sigh that turns into a sob and he feels her slump against him. He holds her through it, whispering reassurances until she finally catches her breath and wipes her face on her sleeve. She turns to look at him over her shoulder and he gives her a gentle smile. 

Robin shifts and presses her face against his chest. “Thank you.”

Steve rubs her back and shakes his head. “You don’t have to thank me babe. It’s what I’m here for.” He holds her for another minute before nudging her back and looking at her with pleading eyes. “Will you try to eat something for me?”

Robin sighs but nods her head and pulls herself to sit against the headboard, reaching over to snap an eggroll off her plate. She takes a big bite, making a huge show of chewing and swallowing. 

Steve huffs out a laugh and bumps her with his shoulder, savoring this glimpse before she’s gone again and the ghost returns.

Stobin month prompt list by @lavenderstobins

[youdontjustgiveup]

August: Chapter 19

( ao3 | ff )

Previous Chapters: [link]

Summary: With Chuck gone, Blair is left to deal with the aftermath. She and Serena have a heart-to-heart and open up to each other.

Pairing: Chuck x Blair

Word Count: 5.3k

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Eating disorder

----------------------------

Blair’s halter dress bloomed with a vibrant floral print, the yellow, purple, and blue hues swirling in a playful dance across the fabric as she paced the kitchen floor. A thin, canary yellow belt cinched her waist. Her fingers were clenched tightly, crumpling a small note in her grasp. With each turn, her steps quickened, and her curses grew louder.

“Idiot. Fool. Insufferable bastard.”

Approaching the refrigerator, she swung it open, scanned the contents, then shut it with a forceful slam as a wave of nausea threatened to engulf her. Blair’s knuckles turned white.

“Coward,” she huffed sharply.

When she woke up, her hand had instinctively sought Chuck’s warmth, only to find the emptiness of cold sheets. Confusion took hold of her mind as she sat up, rubbing the remnants of sleep from her eyes.

They had spent the night together, hadn’t they? It wasn’t a dream. Even if the knot in her stomach tried to tell her otherwise. Wrapping herself tighter in the oversized shirt she had borrowed from him hours before, Blair let the familiar feel of silk envelop her. Yes, they had. She stretched her muscles and settled back down, waiting for him to return so they could occupy their time with more stimulating activities—after their long overdue chat, of course. But the persistent unease refused to go away.

Something felt amiss. Where was he? 

With each passing minute, the scales tipped further away from her favor.

Then, amid the oppressive silence and the futile hope of his return, a note on his pillow stood out. A small, square piece of cream-colored paper that carried the weight of two words, etched with clean and well-defined lines, mocking in their simplicity yet unmistakable in their implications. 

Chuck was not coming back.

Blair continued to pace.

Without forethought, she hurled the crumpled note into the trash, only to be met with its dull thud against the empty bin. The beach house, pristine and immaculate, once again looked as if it had been ripped from the pages of a home catalog. Neither a speck of dust nor a trace of dirt dared to mar its flawless interior. The emptiness of the perfectly clean surroundings laughed at her, each spotless surface a reminder of the void that now swallowed her whole. Every corner of the house whispered of his absence, adding to the knot in her chest.

Instantly regretting her impulsive action, Blair retrieved the note from the trash. As if by looking at it for the twentieth time, she could extract more meaning from its almost barren surface, allowing her to uncover some hidden truth that would explain his departure. She smoothed out the paper and read the contents again. 

I’m sorry.

The words infuriated her even more. He was sorry. Sorry. What did that even mean? Was he sorry for abandoning her in the dead of night like a whisper lost in the wind? For leaving her alone to deal with this mess? For giving up? For not being brave enough to face his own feelings? For loving her? Or perhaps for the absence of that love altogether? Was he sorry for hurting her? For breaking her heart? What, exactly, was he asking forgiveness for? 

With a sigh, she reached for her phone, her fingers shaking as she dialed his number.

“Pick up, pick up,” she pleaded. “Pick it up.”

It rang once, twice, three times before diverting to voicemail.

The tenth call, much like the five ignored texts before it, joined the chorus of silence. Each ring was a desperate attempt for a response that simply would not come, and with each text message left hanging, the faint hope that he couldn’t possibly be this dumb faded into nothingness. Blair knew deep down that he wasn’t going to pick up. He wasn’t going to text back. He was gone.

But gone where?

The unanswered question haunted her, and she could not help but chastise herself for her own naivety. For her foolishness. How could she have allowed her emotions to cloud her judgment so completely? How could she have entertained the thought that he would awaken in her arms, ready to bare his soul and declare his undying love? 

Stupid. She felt so utterly, painfully stupid.

If it was forgiveness he sought, she would not grant it. Instead, she chose anger as her armor, a shield against her own vulnerabilities. Anger was easier, safer. A familiar refuge, its flames burning bright and fierce. And so, she steeled herself against the pain in her heart and the gnawing worry, and decided to turn her wrath on Chuck Bass.

Blair left her phone on the marble counter and crumpled up the note once more, ready to throw it in the trash and be done with it for good. But before she could follow through, Serena breezed into the kitchen in a vibrant yellow sleeveless top and a pair of navy blue shorts that showed off her endless legs.

“Wow, what a gorgeous morning,” Serena exclaimed. “Did you sleep as wonderfully as I did?” As Blair shot her a murderous look, her friend’s eyes darted to the crumpled paper in Blair’s hand. “What’s that?”

“Trash,” she replied curtly. 

“It doesn’t look like trash.”

Blair clenched the note even tighter in her fist, hiding it from view, her jaw set in a determined line. “Trust me, it is.”

“If you say so.”

Without another word, Serena walked over to the refrigerator and retrieved the pitcher of freshly squeezed orange juice and a bowl brimming with sliced peaches. Then, she pulled out two glasses and two silver forks from their designated cabinet, holding one set out to Blair. 

Sitting across from each other at the kitchen island, Serena dove into her breakfast with gusto, but Blair hesitated to follow suit. Her own body rebelled against the very notion of sustenance. It felt like a sealed vault, impervious to any intrusion. Despite the hours that had passed since her last meal, she doubted that anything would find its way in. And if it did, she feared it would quickly find its way out. 

“Are you feeling alright?” her friend asked. “Is there anything else you’d like? Maybe some avocado toast? Or how about a French pastry?”

“I’m fine,” Blair replied, her tone tight. “Just not hungry,” she added, though the words tasted bitter on her tongue.

“But didn’t we skip dinner last night? How can you not be hungry now?”

“I managed to grab a bite earlier,” she lied. 

“Really? When?”

“While you were asleep.”

“Hmm.”

“What’s with the ‘hmm’?” 

“Are you sure you’re telling me everything?”

“Yes! Enough with the incessant interrogation. We’re not in an episode of Law and Order.”

“You know you can always talk to me, right?”

Blair’s reply rang hollow. “Right.” 

“I’m serious,” Serena said softly.

What did her best friend expect her to confess? That she was sick? That years of striving to be perfect, to break free from her shadow, to appease her mother, to maintain her figure, and to hide her secret trips to the bathroom had left her unable to eat like a normal person? That now, every bite felt like a battle, her stomach churning with anxiety at the mere thought of food? That she was consumed by fear, terrified at the prospect of another purging episode?

That Chuck had left her? 

Blair forced herself to take the smallest piece of peach from the bowl, her hand shaking as she brought it to her lips. The sweetness exploded on her tongue. Relief and guilt washed over her as she swallowed the bite. Indulgence and regret played out in her mind as she closed her eyes. 

But Serena could not let it go. “What Georgina said—” 

“Drop it.”

She reached for another bite, and then another. 

Her stomach cramped, and the food seemed to rise in her throat. 

“I don’t know if I can do that,” her friend said. 

“Well, you’re going to have to. What that bitch said is none of your business,” Blair snapped and picked yet another piece, the compulsion to eat overwhelming her. The familiar pull called to her, urging her to continue, promising temporary relief. But halfway to her mouth, she gritted her teeth and resisted. “Now, if you’re quite finished prying into my life, maybe you could focus on your own for a change. How are things going with our charming friend, the one who thinks hitting his best friend is a sport? And do tell, how’s Lonely Boy faring under the burden of his own mediocrity? Is he still hoping to ride your coattails out of Brooklyn obscurity? Still pointing fingers your way for simply being yourself?”

“I know what you’re doing.”

“And what might that be? Do enlighten me, S.”

“Trying to deflect attention away from yourself by lashing out at me,” Serena said, her voice calm but firm. “But you can’t keep hiding. I heard it. So did you. Georgina said that you’ve been purging to try and look more like me.” 

Blair set the fork down with a sharp clatter. “I’m astounded that you can process more than a couple of words strung together.”

“I’m not your enemy, B. I’m your best friend, no matter what.” 

Her resolve wavered, her defenses weakening in the face of Serena’s persistent kindness. “Don’t you have somewhere else to go?” she tried.

Serena shook her head. “No.”

“You should.”

“I’m not going anywhere. What’s really going on?”

Blair was tired of fighting. Of pretending. 

The truth caught in her throat. “I…”

“Whatever it is, you can tell me. You don’t have to figure it out alone.”

“I… I was sick.” Blair took a deep breath. “I still am,” she admitted. Speaking those words to Serena, of all people, felt like surrendering to her own demons, like acknowledging a defeat she had long fought to deny. However, she knew she could not be free if she kept comparing herself to her friend. If she didn’t try to be her own person, flaws and all, and stop resenting her for the mere fact of being Serena van der Woodsen. Nothing would ever change if she didn’t accept her friend’s love. That her reality—to always want and strive and need, to watch Serena breeze through life—was only true as long as she allowed it to be. “For years, I’ve been trapped in this... this nightmare, trying to attain this… this impossible ideal. And it has been tearing me apart.” 

Each word felt like a weight lifted off her shoulders as she finally spoke the truth aloud. All of it. 

Serena’s eyes widened in shock; her hand took Blair’s in silent support. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“I didn’t know how. I thought I could handle it on my own. I thought… I thought it would be okay eventually.” 

A heavy silence fell between them as Blair struggled to find the courage to finish. “The morning after Nelly Yuki’s party,” she whispered. “That was the last time.”

“I really wish you could see that you’ve always been more than enough just as you are, and that I love you more than anything,” her friend paused. “We’ll get you the help you need, and I’ll be by your side every step of the way. This, this is just another obstacle that we’ll face head-on. Together. And seriously, if anyone can kick this nightmare to the curb, it’s you. I mean, come on, you are Blair Waldorf—there’s no test you can’t ace. You’ve got this, B. You’ll make it through.”

Blair held her head high. “I know I will.” It wasn’t just a statement; it was a promise to herself. 

A vow. 

“I’m so sorry,” Serena apologized. “I should have seen it. I should have seen what I was doing to you.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s no—”

“Stop. Don’t make this about you. It isn’t.”

“You’re right.” Her friend squeezed her hand and refilled her own glass with orange juice. As she poured, a knowing smile broke through.

Ugh. 

“What now?”

“So, what about Chuck?”

Blair’s posture stiffened defensively, her arms crossed in a protective stance. “It’s not about him either.”

“He knows, right?” Then, to reinforce the point, Serena added, “You told us that.”

Memories flooded her mind. In her room, after she found out about Nate and Serena. His comforting embrace. The exhilarating motorcycle ride. That moment by the beach, his insistence that she ate. The morning following the party. His hand on her knee, a lifeline; his thumb tracing circles, anchoring her, keeping her from drifting away. 

“Yeah, he does,” Blair confirmed. 

The stupid smile turned into a stupid grin that spread across Serena’s face.

But it didn’t matter. He was gone now. He had left. The sheets, once warm with his presence, had felt cold against Blair’s skin as she’d woken to an empty bed, with nothing but a note on his pillow—a cruel reminder that perhaps she didn’t deserve more. 

After all these years, their relationship was reduced to a note.

A fucking note. 

Bitterness, annoyance, frustration crackled back again. 

“You, miss, must tell me everything!” Serena exclaimed, clearly out of the loop on recent events, her voice rising with each question. “How did it all go down? Who made the first move? And when did it start?”

However, her excitement took a nosedive as she abruptly backtracked, a look of disgust washing over her face. “On second thought, let’s leave it at that. Ignorance might be bliss.”

Blair wanted to laugh. Under any other circumstances, she would have relished the opportunity to tell Serena every detail until she begged for mercy, but now all she could think about was how badly she wanted to strangle Chuck.

How ironic.

Looking around, Serena asked, “Where is he? Is he okay after last night?” 

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

“Yeah, well, he’s made his bed, hasn’t he? And right now, I couldn’t care less where he lays his head.”

“But he could barely keep it together last night, and you were seriously freaking out.”

“I’m not his babysitter, Serena. If he can’t handle himself, that’s his problem, not mine.”

“You’re his girlfriend,” her friend said as if it were obvious.

Girlfriend. That word sounded foreign, like it belonged to another planet, to another language altogether. It was distant. Unattainable. 

“I am not.”

“Did I miss something?”

“Apparently so did I.”

“What happened?” 

“We made it here. I sobered him up. We kissed. Flirted. Things heated up a bit. Got a tad carried away, but it all seemed fine,” Blair recounted. “We went to bed. He left.”

Blair handed Serena the crumpled note she still clutched in her fist. Serena read the words, her brow furrowing in confusion. She flipped the note over, as if expecting to find answers on the back. Opening her mouth to speak, she hesitated, then read the words again.

“Are you kidding me?” Serena scoffed. “He left? Just like that? What an absolute moron.”

And that surprised her how? As if she hadn’t done exactly the same thing. The act of disappearing was like a well-worn page, maybe even an entire chapter, from the narrative of Serena van der Woodsen’s life. Blair smiled at her friend’s reaction regardless, knowing that her heart was in the right place.

“Look,” the blonde continued. “This is what we’re going to do. We’re going to finish this amazing breakfast I prepared.”

Blair raised an eyebrow. “The culinary masterpiece of getting a bowl out of the fridge. Remind me, is that on the cover of Martha Stewart’s latest issue?”

“Whatever. We’ll finish it. Then, we’re going to go shopping, just the two of us, forget that those two even exist and treat ourselves to a day of self-care. Manicures, pedicures. All of it. We can even end it with one of those old black and white Hollywood movies you love. Deal?”

Maybe that wasn’t so bad. 

“Deal.”

----------------------------

As the days rolled into a week since Chuck had left, Blair found it more and more difficult to hate him. Initially fueled by anger, her resentment and irritation had now turned into a swirling vortex of disappointment and worry. Each passing day seemed to widen the chasm in her heart, making her feel more alone than ever. 

While Serena had been a comforting distraction, it just wasn’t the same.

Blair missed the way Chuck’s sly grin sparked mischief in her own eyes, his unapologetic nature, the thrill of their scheming, and, while sometimes exasperating, having someone who could read her like an open book. The way he challenged her, pushing her to accept herself even when she resisted. His voice, softly murmuring her family name as he called her beautiful. But most of all, Blair missed the late nights and stolen kisses, his hands pressed against her skin, the feeling of total, unadulterated happiness she found in his arms. 

She missed him, plain and simple.

That would also pass, right? With time. Blair hoped so.

Blair hadn’t called or texted him since that day, even though deep down a part of her was desperate to know where he was. If he was okay. If he needed help. Did he miss her as well? Or had he simply chosen to disappear without a second thought? But despite the pain of his silence, she refused to reach out, unwilling to play the role of the forsaken lover. If he wanted to bolt like a chicken, fine, Blair Waldorf was not going to beg.

Checking her phone once more, Blair’s heart sank at the empty screen. No messages, no calls. Nothing. Just a suffocating void that amplified her self-loathing for craving his attention despite it all. 

Blair sank into the leather sofa next to Serena in the club’s private lounge, her feet throbbing from dancing to ten songs in a row. After days of Serena pestering her, Blair had finally agreed to hit the dance floor, but on one condition: they had to come here, to the very same place she and Chuck had visited weeks ago. For no real reason, though. None at all. So here they were, dolled up in their summer best, sipping on martinis and grooving to the tunes. 

Her phone buzzed in her hand, sending a jolt through her stomach. Penelope. As if anyone cared about her incessant updates on her love life or the minutiae of the Upper East Side. Blair sighed, her fingers pressing against the keyboard as she navigated through her inbox, still as devoid of Chuck as it had been all week. 

“Must Penelope’s texts perpetually read like a tedious soap opera? Makes you wonder if she’s ever capable of keeping her mouth shut, you know? Not every trivial detail warrants disclosure. That law student hitting on her? Please, his eye probably just twitched,” Blair said. 

Serena shook her head in bemusement. “I still don’t know why you’re friends with her, B.”

“Serena, darling, I’ve explained this before: there’s a clear distinction between friends and minions.”

“Ah, minions.”

Rolling her eyes, Blair continued. “You know how it is. Sometimes, one simply needs a dutiful hand to manage the less glamorous tasks, such as procuring my morning yogurt. However, that doesn’t mean I want a front row seat to their life drama.”

“You are so bad,” her friend teased.

“Speaking of drama, have you heard about the latest scandal?”

“Do I even want to know?”

Blair leaned in. “Let’s just say it involves a certain socialite from the Buckley family, her designer handbag, and a scandalous rendezvous at the Plaza.”

“Go on,” Serena encouraged her. 

Finishing off her martini and casually gesturing to a passing bartender who was collecting empty glasses, Blair ordered for another round while regaling her best friend with all the juicy details about the one and only Chelsea Buckley.

After a moment, Serena shifted uncomfortably on the sofa, her attention momentarily stolen by a chain of text messages flooding her phone. 

“Are you even listening?” Blair asked. 

“Yeah, sorry. What were you saying?” her friend replied, but her eyes were still glued to her device. 

Blair’s curiosity piqued. “Who’s demanding your attention now?” 

“It’s nothing,” Serena closed the lid of her flip phone, deflecting the conversation. “Remind me again why we’re here.”

Subtle.  

“What’s the matter? It’s a place like any other.”

“It’s not just any place. It’s got history, a certain name attached to it, you tell me.” 

Blair averted her friend’s gaze. 

“Promise me it has nothing to do with Chuck,” Serena pressed, her tone betraying her awareness that it was, in fact, entirely about Chuck.

“Cross my heart, hope to die? Please, we’re not twelve.”

“Can we please leave? Go somewhere else? Maybe that bar around the corner with the pool table.”  

“Ew,” Blair wrinkled her nose in distaste. “Smelly drunks, sticky floors, men parading their masculinity with crumpled singles. No, thank you. Let’s maintain some class, shall we? And besides, it’s not like Chuck owns the place. Weren’t you itching to dance?”

“Is that the only reason we’re here?”

“Of course.”

“Blair, he’s not going to show up.”

“I know that.”

Did she? The chances of Chuck showing up here, at this exact hour, were slim, but not entirely implausible. Where else would he be? Certainly not the dive bar Serena had suggested.

“I just don’t want you to be heartbroken every time you check your phone, scan the room, or even hear someone order a scotch.”

“Thank you for your concern, but I’m fine.”

Serena’s phone lit up at the arrival of a new notification, causing her reflexes to shield the screen from Blair this time, who raised a critical eyebrow in return. What the hell was going on? “It’s Nate,” Serena quickly said.

“Is he joining us?”

“So he says.”

There was a flicker of something in her friend’s eyes that told Blair she was not telling the truth. That, along with her body language, said it all. You could not con a con artist.

Accepting a fresh drink from the bartender with a gracious smile, Blair took a sip. “You’re lying,” she stated matter-of-factly.

Serena rose from her seat, extending her hand to Blair. “Come on, let’s dance some more.”

But she wasn’t about to be distracted. “Oh, no, you’re not going anywhere until you tell me who’s your mystery texter,” Blair demanded, her grip tightening as she pulled Serena back into her seat.

“It was Nate.”

“Liar.”

“Dan.”

“Are you seriously considering diving back into the cesspool of Brooklyn? How utterly revolting.”

“What?! No.”

“Then pray tell, who’s this secret beau you’re hiding? Is there a third boyfriend who I don’t know about?”

“Why would you even think that?” 

“Can you blame me? Come on, Serena. Don’t play games. Just tell me.”

“It was a friend.”

“I’m your only friend.”

“Fine,” Serena relented. “But promise not to go Blair Waldorf on me.”

Blair didn’t offer any promises, just a piercing stare. 

“Serena…”

Time stretched, seconds ticking by, each one feeling like an eternity.

“Don’t make me snatch your phone,” Blair insisted. “Who was it?”

“Chuck,” she finally confessed, the admission slipping out reluctantly. “It was Chuck.”

It hit her like a gust of icy wind, causing her body to tense and her stomach to sink into the depths of an abyss. “What?”

“He… he’s just worried.”

Blinking rapidly, she tried to make sense of the words tumbling out of her friend’s mouth. “Worried? Are you fucking serious right now?”

“Calm down.”

“Don’t you dare tell me to calm down.”

“Just listen, please.”

“Listen to what, Serena? That you’ve been texting Chuck behind my back? That while I’ve been losing sleep over him, you knew where he was all this time.”

“Let me explain.”

Blair’s voice cracked with anger and hurt. “I don’t want to hear you.”

What possible excuse could she have for this?

Serena reached out, a pleading look in her eyes. “Blair, please.”

Ignoring her friend’s plea, Blair got up from the sofa and walked away.

“Blair!”

The pulsing bass throbbed through the club, rattling her bones. Laughter erupted around her, too loud and discordant. A glass slipped from someone’s hand and shattered on the floor with a sharp crack. The kaleidoscope of colors from the neon lights danced across the dimly lit room, casting shadows that rippled and swayed in time to the relentless beat.  

A boy bumped into her as she made her way through the crowd.

It felt as if the ground had suddenly shifted beneath her feet, leaving Blair to struggle for stability in a world that seemed to have lost its balance. All this time, she’d been consumed with worry, day and night, waiting for news of him, only to find that all she had to do was ask Serena. It didn’t feel real. It couldn’t be real. Why hadn’t she said anything? 

Blair grabbed the doorknob to her sanctuary. 

Thank God it was empty.

Stepping into the restroom, Blair leaned against the cool porcelain sink, her reflection staring back at her with weary eyes. When did everything get so screwed up? The familiar urge to slip into the bathroom stall reared its ugly head, the comforting yet destructive ritual that reached out in moments of distress. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. It wasn’t supposed to happen again.

What was the point of it all? The endless cycle seemed to spin on its axis, always returning to the same starting point: Serena. No matter what she wanted. What she did. No matter how much she told herself that things would change. It was futile in the face of Serena’s omnipresence. 

With a conscious effort, Blair took a deep breath, the air filling her lungs. Then, she closed her eyes, shutting out the world around her, and willed herself to focus. It was imperative to remind herself that the narrative she found herself trapped within was not the immutable truth, but a construct shaped by her own perceptions. There had to be an explanation, a rationale for her best friend’s behavior. And all she had to do was listen. Blair refused to retreat into the safety of harmful habits. The ghosts of the past and present may have beckoned with their siren call, but she was determined to resist their allure.

Blair opened her eyes, squared her shoulders, and met her own gaze in the mirror with newfound determination. Her conversation with Serena a week ago echoed through her mind, loud and clear. Blair was not going to let her insecurities and fears control her. It was time to break out of the cycle of self-destruction. She might not have all the answers right now, but she refused to be consumed by despair.

There were still bridges to mend and conversations to have, but for now, as her breathing slowed and her stomach eased, Blair was content in the knowledge that resisting the urge to enter that stall meant something. It was just a small step, but it was a step in the right direction.

“Don’t do it,” Serena cut through Blair’s thoughts as she rushed into the restroom.  

“I wasn’t planning on doing anything.”

“But—”

“I don’t fall apart every time you leave me alone for five minutes, you know. You can stop with the watchdog act.”

“Can we talk?”

“Sure,” Blair responded curtly, her arms crossed tightly over her chest.

“It’s not what you think,” her friend started. “I just got in touch with him a few days ago. At first, he didn’t answer, so I kept texting and calling, and texting again. I even had Lily ask Bart about him. I reached out to Jack. I probably made it so much worse for him. But I didn’t stop. And when he finally replied, all he asked about was you. You, Blair. That’s all he cares about.”

“So, what, you’re discussing me while having your little tête-à-têtes now? Am I supposed to feel honored?”

“Blair, I swear I don’t know where Chuck is. He won’t tell me.”

Blair scoffed. “And you expect me to believe that?”

“I just wanted him to come back. You’re miserable all the time. Nate’s a wreck.”

“Poor Nate, right? Like this mess isn’t of his own making.”

“It’s nobody’s fault. And if anyone’s, it’s mine. He’s genuinely worried about you, Blair. If you could just—”

“If I could just what? Call him? Text him? Beg him to come back? I’ve done it all, Serena. If he cared so much, he wouldn’t have left in the first place,” Blair interrupted bitterly. “And he would have come to me himself.”

“He’ll come around, I’m sure of it. And when he does, you’ll be the first person he comes to.”

A hollow laugh escaped Blair’s lips, tinged with irony. “Well, definitely not the first.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think—” 

“That’s your problem. You never think.”

“I really am sorry,” Serena said, her tone earnest as she reached out to offer comfort. 

Blair recoiled, pulling away. “Don’t touch me. I can’t deal with either of you right now.”

“He told me not to tell you, and I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“I didn’t realize Chuck Bass was your best friend.”

“You are my best friend. I just didn’t want to make things worse. I’ve been trying to get him to talk to you for days.”

“Well, congratulations,” Blair muttered sarcastically. “You’ve done a bang-up job.”

Despite Serena's efforts, the weight of abandonment continued to press down on Blair, the ache in her heart demanding release.

“Do you know how it feels?” she exploded. “Being the one who’s always left behind? My father, Nate, you, Chuck. No, of course not. Nobody ever leaves you. You don’t know what it’s like. To wake up and find him gone. I was about to tell him ‘I love you’, and then he just left. Do you know how humiliating that is? My heart feels like it’s been ripped out of my chest.” 

“I know.”

“What?”

“I know how it feels. Lily… Lily is hardly ever around. Always more interested in the new husband of the month than in any of her children. And my father… Well, he walked out.” 

“That’s his loss.” 

“Maybe, but I… I just can’t seem to let it go. I keep leaving him messages and writing letters to addresses I’m not even sure are his. Hoping for a response that never comes. All I remember of that man is him going on trips and then coming back and bringing me presents. And then one day, he didn’t come back. And now it’s like I… I can’t seem to get anything right anymore. Between Dan and Nate and you and... That’s why I tried to bring Chuck back. He’s... he’s like me. He’s scared and feels like he doesn’t deserve anything good in life, but he loves you very much. I know he does, even if he won’t admit it yet.”

Shit. 

“I… I’m not sure what to say. I suppose I’m just sorry. You deserve better than that.”

“You too.”

“I know it’s not your fault Chuck left. It just... it hurts. Everywhere.”

Blair hadn’t realized just how much.

“I understand,” Serena acknowledged.

Blair and Serena stood there for a moment, each other’s pain hanging heavy in the air. Then, as if drawn by an invisible magnet, they hugged each other tightly.

“You love him,” Serena murmured, breaking the silence. “Lucky bastard.”

Blair’s smile was bittersweet. “Thank you for trying to knock some sense into that stubborn head of his.”

As they held each other, Blair’s cell phone buzzed insistently from inside her purse.

“Aren’t you going to check that?” her friend asked.

Blair shook her head, her grip on Serena tightening slightly. “No.”

“But it could be important,” Serena insisted. “It could be…”

“I don’t care.”

“All right. Let’s get out of here.”

With a nod, Blair reluctantly released her friend from the embrace. Together, they walked away from the shadows of the past, ready to face whatever lay ahead, one step at a time.

[ohwell-itsme-but-danganronpa]

saiouma post game AU inspired by Taylor Swift music

a thread I started on twitter in March (2021) when I was listening to half of the evermore album ( and a bit of folklore) on loop

ironically, it starts with "closure", from Ouma's perspective who thinks that Saihara reaching out to him now is unnecessary and performatory only to solidify Saihara's good guy look in media's eyes, not out of care and that he only wants closure from him

the idea that Saihara just wants to tie loose ends, be told what he didn't understand and probably apologize for some things that are meaningless to Ouma as long as they ended the game anyway is repulsing to him, so he shuts him out, bc he doesn't want that sense of finality

next up is "gold rush", it's really loud about v3 cast everywhere he looks, but all the credit for HIS plan goes to Saihara and partially to Momota, while he gets the rep of "Komaeda type character" with "you tried" sticker and "are you insane?" looks pointed at him

Saihara totally hates the attention, but Ouma doesn't know that since they DON'T communicate at all, so he's really bitter about how much Saihara is loved, just collecting what Ouma worked for. On one hand, he predicted that Saihara would have to finish the game in his place

he left all those leads for him, because he knew he wouldn't be there for the final, and it's fine, Saihara carried it out the way he wanted him to, so why is he mad? and well, in this song there are so many lines that just... h

"I don't like that anyone would die to feel your touch Everybody wants you Everybody wonders what it would be like to love you Walk past, quick brush" bitch, you're jealous and distance yourself because you want to pretend you don't care

"Eyes like sinking ships On waters so inviting I almost jump in" hate to break it to you Ouma, but it doesn't sound like you don't like the gold eyes after all, I meant rush, gold rush Like "jump in"?! hold your horses, take him to a date first, dude

"I see me padding across your wooden floors" Literally fantasizing about living with him, I told you to hold your horses. "My mind turns your life into folklore I can't dare to dream about you anymore" Wait, not like that-

So for him the moment he realizes he's into Saihara he immediately assumes that it'll never be, and he has a lot of anger at Team DR, at all the fans, at himself for being attracted to someone rn (while there are other things he should focus on),

and at Saihara for (what he only assumed is) an attempt to smooth over the problematic persona of Kokichi to get a good ending for the public view. So the *totally* reasonable thing for him to do next is to give Saihara HELL, obviously.

And so the next song is " 'tis the damn season" and I am so vibing with that one, y'all don't understand, it's like, soft violence, the longing, the "we can call it even", I am foaming at the mouth, this one gives me so many scenarios

"There’s an ache in you, put there by the ache in me" aka it's angst time, the pain when, ugh, when you're an idiot hurting your own feelings and messing with your crush's head, because you can't stop yourself from either flirting with him or pushing him away the very next second

(and this is where I said I am gonna take a break and then didn't come back to this until today)

okay, so I can't stress this enough - my post-game Kokichi continues to hide behind his in-game persona and dials it up whenever there's even a chance of publicity. I'd like him to quote "It's obvious that wanting me dead has really brought you two together" to Harukawa but really, he died for those people, he might do something like that in an interview for show, but the attitude from mad woman is directed at TDR and fans... for the most part. He acts like a spoiled celebrity and he's always having a scandal, whether it be getting into physical fights with fans or reporters, or saying something offensive or throwing a fit and trashing a place (like a hotel room or a store) because he got upset, being caught drunk or smoking, making crude comments about other participants of the game when asked at the events they're forced to attend because of their contracts (he won't answer anything if they get to him any other day tho) so in his " 'tis the damn season" era a lot of rumors is born

A lot of them centered around him and Shuichi, most of them having a bit of truth to them. There is something developing between them because deep down it's what both of them really want, but Kokichi is still playing with Saihara's feelings, making it a game of cat and mouse, pulling him along, being the one to seek him out, flirt, but also always the first to backpedal and leave him alone in a rush

but eventually it starts to get through to him that Saihara actually cares and that it's hurting him, so we enter with champagne problems when he realizes Saihara is being genuine with him and the "dropped your hand while dancing" is literal because it's one of the official parties, organized by one of the many anti-danganronpa organizations that ask Saihara to give speeches on their events like this one, and they're waltzing, having a quiet conversation, Ouma's tease backfiring on him and he runs away just like that

Cue him holing up god knows where to mope for weeks, agonizing over worst case scenarios, playing it over and over in his head, certain that he hurt Saihara with his playing and pushed their relationship beyond saving and that's when the last great american dynasty starts playing, because he uses that time to finally sort through his pre-game stuff too, and it turns out they were almost-not-really together back then too, so he blew it thrice and they won't be getting any more fresh starts therefore "Who knows if I never showed up what could've been. There goes the loudest woman this town has ever seen. I had a marvelous time ruining everything :)" bc he read his diary and thinks it's his fault Saihara joined danganronpa (it isn't)

and there's no way to incorporate my tears ricochet smoothly with its literal message but I think about "I didn't have it in myself to go with grace" a lot and if you re-frame it from Momota killing him directly to their whole group scapegoating him and pushing him in the direction of becoming the villain they wanted him to be just to wonder why he doesn't come to group therapy and tell the press they have no idea why he's being hostile with them now that it's all over. It'd be simpler if they still hated him like they were always supposed, but now their eyes are suddenly open to bigger enemies, so they believe he can just... what, sit in with them like it's all sunshine and rainbows? Like his presence doesn't make things more painful? "Look at how my tears ricochet" in a sense of a realization, the same sentiment as "There’s an ache in you, put there by the ache in me", the way he's hurting affects everyone. When he separated himself from the group in game it was noble, but now it's borderline sabotage of their progress out of avoidance, he's withholding closure, denying healing that has to be done, it isn't just about whatever mind games he's been playing with Shuichi, Kokichi is stuck in his game mindset, creating a tear in their group by alienating himself from it. He needs to talk with Miu, Gonta... even Kaito

He has to work out his place in the group and spend some time with friends, doing some healing before he gets back to Shuichi and they actually, finally talk things out, get together.

[mylittleredgirl]

Another snippet from a different WIP! I have so many unfinished works I can probably keep going like this indefinitely 🥴. This one's set during "Intruder"...

---

They go back to Earth.

He’s nervous, wearing blues and facing down a half-dozen senior officers in the briefing room, plus General O’Neill dialed in on a secure phone line. They’re not dangerous in the way the Wraith are, or the Genii, or anybody else he’s ever gone up against in battle—but then, he has a better track record with those guys than he does with Air Force brass.

Elizabeth and Rodney are being debriefed separately. They all have their own areas of expertise, so different people belong on the other side of the table for each conversation. It makes sense that they aren’t all doing it together, but still, John would feel better with some friendly backup.

On the whole, it goes better than he expected when he walked in. The purpose of the meeting is threat assessment, and neither Landry nor O’Neill seem interested in taking too many detours into John’s job performance. His decisions and actions are questioned, but only a few times. Mostly by Colonel Caldwell.

“Not discounting your personal heroism in saving the city,” Caldwell says, after John gives his strategic assessment of the Genii military capability, “or rescuing Doctor Weir and Doctor McKay from a hostage situation in extreme circumstances, but it seems like some of these confrontations could have been avoided by taking more time to examine the situation up front.”

“With hindsight… maybe.” Elizabeth said pretty much the same thing without hindsight, during their first ill-fated encounter with the Genii, but John isn’t going to offer that up. “We wouldn’t have been able to delay it for long. Conflict was inevitable, and we didn’t have a lot of time to waste weighing pros and cons with the Wraith waking up all across the galaxy.”

“Is it possible that could have been prevented, too?”

John has wondered that, in some long dark nights, but the first domino fell on that before they had even been in the Pegasus galaxy for eight hours. “No. By the time we knew what was happening, it was too late to stop it.”

“Well, we’ve all been there,” O’Neill says via the speaker in the middle of the table. A few weeks after arriving in Pegasus, when John got around to reading the stack of essential SGC reports that Elizabeth earmarked for him, he was relieved to learn that his wasn’t the first rescue mission in Stargate Command history to turn a galaxy upside down. “Last week the Genii gave you a pair of nukes—what’s the ally potential there?”

Caldwell writes something down on his notepad, and John tries not to look at him as the meeting goes on.

At the end of the hour, O’Neill gives him a little praise for keeping things together out there. Landry goes further, saying John will likely have a medal or two coming his way. The compliments all come with the same flavor of finality for a job already completed that Caldwell’s did back in Atlantis.

Landry dismisses him. Everyone else stays in the room, like they might keep talking about strategic implications of the Atlantis expedition without him, because it’s no longer John’s business.

He should take their medals and their thanks and be grateful. He’ll still have one of the coolest jobs in human history, and Elizabeth will do what she can to smooth over the inevitable problems his new superior officer will have with him.

The concrete rooms and hallways of the SGC feel like they’re squeezing him. He’s not used to recycled air and fluorescent lights. He gets on the elevator with no destination in mind, just out, and only starts to relax when he can see the sky.

He ends up in what seems to be the designated smoking area for employees in the Cheyenne complex, outdoors but still inside the electrified wire perimeter. To his surprise, among the handful of uniformed personnel out on breaks, he sees a familiar head of hair.

“Taking up a bad habit?” he asks, coming up behind her.

Elizabeth turns around with a smile. She’s taller than usual in high heels, looking him in the eye. She looks so different than she usually does, wearing a pressed suit with a pink top underneath. “I just needed some air. It’s strange, though… I think I missed the smell.”

That is strange, but John breathes in and is surprised to discover a little pang of nostalgia for the uniquely terrestrial scent of secondhand smoke mixed with pine trees. There are a few smokers in the expedition, of course, but their supplies ran out after a few months, just before the coffee rations did. That was a fun few weeks for everyone.

And the trees. The tall evergreens found on many Pegasus planets look almost the same as these ones, but they don’t have the same smell.

“My father used to smoke,” Elizabeth says. “Cigars, mostly. My mom usually made him do it outside, and I liked to go out and sit with him. It was our time together.”

John can’t imagine volunteering to spend concentrated time with his father, but there must have been a point in his young life when he wanted to. “That sounds nice.”

“For a while, after he died, I only dated men who smoked cigars.” She chuckles. “Coming back here has brought up all kinds of memories.”

He never even consciously noticed the pattern, given the limited sample size in his romantic history, but it comes out of his mouth as soon as he realizes it. “I’ve only dated brunettes.”

She ducks her head and gives him a sidelong look. It’s only then that he realizes how that must have sounded—and how, maybe, that’s exactly how he meant it to sound.

She pulls them back to safer ground before he can squirm too long. “How did your debriefing go?”

“Fine, I guess. Yours?”

She looks tired as soon as he asks. “Ongoing.”

Landry officially released him from the base, but, “I’ll probably stick around another day to see if they need me before I go to Nevada.”

She tilts her head. “Family?”

“Ford’s.”

“That’s good of you.”

Maybe it is—but he doesn’t think it’ll make a dent in how guilty he feels for standing here on green grass under green Earth trees while a member of his team is alone and out of reach in another galaxy.

“Don’t go yet, though,” Elizabeth says. “Stay in town for a few days, if you can.”

“Think you’ll need backup?”

There’s a sudden, unexpected sparkle in her eye that means she’s holding back a smile, and his stomach swoops. Surely she only wants him nearby for professional reasons, but her voice is a little teasing when she says, “I can’t say anything just yet.”

That feeling of wanting is back, as strong as it was that morning when he woke up and felt like a switch had been flipped. “Yeah?”

She looks down at her watch. “Oh! I’m going to be late. But… just stick around for me, okay?”

She leaves him outside with the trees, and he watches her go.

He thinks about buying a cigar.

---

Theme Day 4 - SGC

Sometimes we're not on Atlantis at all! Today's the day to celebrate all things Stargate Command (SGC).

Coming up next:

Oct 5: Bingo Card fill Oct 6: Angst Fanworks

See all Theme Days in our pinned post.

[avatar-anna]

Vogue Beauty Secrets

summary: harry shares his beauty secrets with vogue but he needs a little help

"Hi, I'm Harry, and today I'm going to be sharing my beauty secrets with all of you lovely, lovely people."

He was a bit nervous to be filming a video like this. Normally there were more people around, but now it was just him, his camera, and a bathroom mirror, and the long line of products you set up for him before you left the house. Harry didn't use to have much in terms of a routine, not enough to film this kind of video, anyway. But after a few months of just knowing you, he had enough products to fill up all the shelves in his bathroom.

"Um, so I start with this. I have dry skin from traveling all the time, and my girlfriend says it's good for dry skin, so," he said with a shrug, holding up his cleanser for the camera, pumping a little into his hand, and rubbing it into his skin.

Harry tried to talk while washing his face, but he got some of the cleansing foam in his mouth and immediately had to stop the recording so he could spit it out and rinse his mouth. Terribly embarrassed, he took a couple seconds to collect himself before turning the recording back on.

"Next I use a toner, also picked out for me by my girlfriend. It has, erm, salicylic acid and is an exfoliator. Whoa, try saying that five times fast."

He put it on, looking down at the small list of prompts he'd been given to talk as he filmed the video. Minus the cleanser mishap, things went pretty smooth. Harry went over all the things he used, and when he got to his Pleasing products, he talked in-depth about the brand—why he decided to create the brand in the first place, what the two different serums and the Pleasing Pen did, and why he came out with those first.

"All of this is supposed to give me a 'glow from within,' as promised by my missus, but I'll let you decide," Harry said, moving his face from side to side so the bathroom lights would catch on his cheekbones.

When he finished his skincare, it was time to move onto makeup, which made him pause. It technically wasn't a lot, and he could definitely do it himself, but he'd become so accustomed to you doing it, he didn't like it any other way.

"Excuse me one moment," he said, then pulled out his phone and dialed your number, putting it on speaker.

"Hi, baby. Finished already?" you asked, picking up after the first couple rings.

"Uh...No. I need your help," Harry admitted, turning slightly away from the camera when he felt his cheeks heat up.

"H, I told you I didn't—"

"I'll make it up to you, I promise. Pleaseee."

Harry kept saying please until you eventually relented. "Fine, I'll be back in ten minutes."

"Thank you. I love you so very much."

"Love you too. See you in a bit."

Stopping the recording, he waited for you to come back home. You'd stepped out to run some errands—re-stocking your personal and professional kit, getting groceries for dinner later tonight.

Instead of doing those things, you drove home. Walking up the stairs, you walked into yours and Harry's shared bedroom, knocking on the door of the bathroom before opening it. You found Harry leaning over and starting the recording up again.

"Just in time!" he said, grinning at you as he sat back down again.

He tugged on your hand to pull you over to where he was sitting, but you stayed just out of the camera frame. Still, he brought your hand up and kissed the top of it, grinning wide when he saw the corners of your lips turn up.

"Okay, where did you leave off?" you asked, going over to the sink to wash your hands.

"I just need moisturizer and sunscreen and I'm good to go."

You looked at him from behind the camera, but he just continued to smile at you. Harry was more than capable of applying that stuff himself, but he preferred when you did it for him. Making your way back over to him, you picked up his moisturizer and got started.

"So, I know most people like to use primer before makeup, but since H doesn't wear very much, I typically just use a good moisturizer. This one is the Embryolisse face cream, and I get a good amount on my fingertips and really work it in. I should mention that this is definitely a one person job, but he's a diva, so here we are."

Harry had been smiling faintly with his eyes closed as you massaged his face up until that point. "Hey."

Pretending like you heard nothing, you continued. "After that, I put on sunscreen, and I typically don't use anything under SPF 30. And once that's all rubbed in, he's ready for a little makeup."

You smoothed his hair back a little as you finished blending everything in, massaging around his temples the way you knew he liked a little extra attention, and almost as if on cue, he mumbled, "Feels nice."

You gave him a couple more seconds to enjoy the pads of your fingers against his temples, but you eventually had to move on, worried that this video could go on forever.

"Okay, so H has some small dark circles that he likes covered up when he's on stage, but they're usually not severe enough to warrant color corrector, so I just go in with a little bit of the Nars pot concealer right here," you said, tapping it under his eyes. "And if he's got a couple breakouts, I'll cover those up to, but I must say, you're looking quite flawless today."

The corner of his mouth tipped up into a crooked little grin. "It's all thanks to you."

Harry was a very charming person by nature, but there had to be something in the air, because he was being extra sweet with you today. It was too cute to make note of, though, so you just smiled at him and told him to blend in his concealer while you cleaned up a little.

When he was all done, you picked up the next item. "Sometimes if he's looking a little pale, I'll put on just the tiniest bit of cream bronzer. Nothing too intense, but just enough to bring some color to the face, and I put it on his cheeks here, his temples, and a little by his hairline. Anywhere the sun would normally hit the face, and I blend that in with a sponge."

You worked and explained, trying to ignore the dreamy look in Harry's eyes as he watched you so you could focus. "Like it so far?"

"Mmhm. Positively sunkissed."

"

Blending a little more with your sponge, you said, "He's pretty easy as far as clients go, very low maintenance. But he loves being taken care of. Face rollers and masks after a show are a must to help him wind down."

He said it so quietly, but the camera's microphone was just able to pick it up. "Best part of my night is getting ready for bed with you."

You held in the urge to kiss him, but it wasn't easy. Obviously, people knew Harry Styles had a girlfriend, but you kept a low profile and weren't often photographed with him in order to maintain a small modicum of anonymity. It had worked so far, though you wondered if after this video one of his fans would be able to track you down with just your voice and hands.

Shaking those thoughts away, you focused on the video again. "And then to wrap it up, he wears a lip balm, and since he's a bougie bitch, he goes for the Tatcha lip jelly, but I won't hold that against him because it's really great lip product."

"I feel as though I should point out that she's not usually this feisty. She's putting on a show for the camera," Harry said, a mocking frown on his face.

He let you put his lip balm on for him, puckering his lips so he could give you a tiny kiss on the tip of your finger, which made you very thankful that you couldn't be seen on camera because you were now a blushy mess. Once he was all set, you continued.

"I normally don't set H's face with any powders or anything because he doesn't really need it. The most I'll do is remind him to put this on throughout the day. It's a mineral powder with SPF in it, which should keep his skin from burning throughout the day. And...that's pretty much it. Pretty simple, but very effective."

"I look ready for date night," he said, looking at himself in the mirror.

"Yeah? I'd say you look quite handsome too. I'd definitely take you out on a date."

With the pads of your fingers, you gingerly tilted his chin from side to side so that the camera could see the finished result. Harry kept going after you let go, though, holding his chin in his hands and posing while you put some of his things away.

"It is quite minimal," he said, agreeing with your previous statement. "Should've asked her to do this instead. My girl's an artist."

You smiled to yourself, half listening to Harry as you cleaned up. "You know, I didn't know much about makeup until I met her. And then suddenly I knew everything. Like, there was this one time where she was watching this movie, and she freaked out because a guy took off a girl's fake eye lashes. Now I know never to touch a woman's false lashes lest I want my hand cut off."

You'd been letting your boyfriend ramble to the camera about this and that, clearly not as nervous about the whole thing as he had been when you left him earlier today. And while you'd been trying not to laugh too loud, you couldn't hold it in after his last anecdote. It wasn't so much the story itself, but the way he described his feelings about it at the end.

The story was true, of course. Harry had been downstairs on the phone while you watched a movie in his bed. You'd already written it off as a terrible film after the first ten minutes, but you decided to see it through, only to gasp in horror when you saw the leading man remove the leading lady's false lashes.

You came back over to him, still laughing but trying to get ahold of yourself. "That's true, you're definitely right about that, but...you know I don't use those right? I have eyelash extensions."

Harry, who had been laughing right along with you, sobered up pretty quickly. "You have what?"

Smiling at his utter confusion, you said, "Baby, how long have we been together? I've never taken them off. Their extensions. Like hair extensions...but for eyelashes."

You were not blessed in the long, voluminous lash department and had started getting lash extensions years ago, long before you met Harry. Granted, they were very natural looking, but he'd watched you put your makeup on hundreds of times, and not once had you stuck on a pair of fake lashes.

"This...This is madness. Come here." Harry stood up from his seat and held your face in his hands so he could get a better look. You were practically nose to nose, but he just kept looking at you very intensely. What he was trying to see, you weren't sure. You had a very excellent lash tech.

"Witchcraft," he mumbled. Moving so he was in front of the camera again, he said, "My girlfriend's a witch."

You shoved his shoulder playfully. "Shut up, you dork!"

You left him shortly after that, but not before he pulled you back over to him so he could kiss your cheek. "Love you!" he called.

"Love you too," you replied over your shoulder. And with that, you left him to finish the video.

Harry did the outro, eager to go now that he knew you were waiting for him. With a final wave he signed off. "Thank you for watching me share my beauty secrets, though it was really just me being pampered by my girlfriend. But what can I say, I'd be lost without her."

[mysecretlittlelibrary]

Would Things Be Easier If There Was A Right Way

Pairing: Dilf!Bucky Barnes x Teacher!Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: they argue so everyone's a lil sad for a bit but it's okay

Genre: It couldn't be ALL fluff in this series now could it? (it could but where's the fun in that) have some angst fluffy ending though because I'm soft for Dilf Bucky

Summary: It's not always smooth sailing with your boyfriend, sometimes you get into disagreements even when you're on the same side

***

As you walk quickly down the street to your local cafe you tug your jacket a little closer to your body. It's not yet so cold that walking is unbearable but when the wind picks up you're reminded that winter is getting closer. It's a professional day for the county so although it's a Wednesday, the kids are out of school today. You've been using the day to catch up on putting in grades and decided it was time for a break. That's what brings you to the line at your favorite place to get coffee. You order a warm drink and a pastry, finding a seat near the window to enjoy your little snack. You watch idly from your spot as people walk by the giant window, all of them rushing to get out of the windy weather and to their destinations. You frown to yourself when you notice a little girl that looks to be by herself across the street from your cafe. You glance around curiously, instinct causing you to worry when you don't see any adult who seems to be particularly watching after the child. Your mild concern turns to full on worry when you catch a glimpse of the child's face that makes you gasp. That little girl looks an awful lot like Lily. When she turns again you realize it is Lily and you're out of your seat without a second thought. You cross the street as quickly as you can and call out to her.

"Lily!" Her head snaps to you and she meets you with a smile as you walk over to her.

"Oh hi, y/n. Boy am I glad to see you." She says with a huff.

"What on earth are you doing here Lily?" You frown, crouching beside her.

"Well I was supposed to go to the library with daddy today but when I woke up he was gone and I tried to wait, I even called him, but after a while, I figured I would just go without him because I thought he forgot about me."

"Are you telling me you tried to go to the library by yourself? How did you plan to do that?" You blink at her.

"Well I've been enough times I thought it'd be easy, but I'm pretty sure I took the wrong bus." She frowns.

"You got on a public bus alone?!"

"Well I can't drive. How else was I supposed to get there?" She shrugs.

"You were supposed to wait for an adult to take you. You don't even have a bus pass."

"I don't but I have an allowance and the bus takes coins."

"Lily sweetie you are entirely too young to be galavanting around the city without an adult. You should know better."

"Matilda was going to the library at like five. I'm twice that." She pouts.

"Matilda is a fictional character in a movie made before you were born, the fact that her family just let her wander around is not something you should be envious of little flower. It was bad." You frown. You let out a sigh and shake your head, "I'm going to call your dad and we'll see about getting you home." You tell her pulling out your phone. You dial Bucky's number quickly and sigh again when it goes to voicemail. "Well daddy didn't answer so we're going to go back to my apartment and wait for him to call back." You tell her. Lily grabs your hand and the two of you make the short trek back to your apartment. You set her up with a bowl of goldfish and some cartoons while you wait for Bucky to call you back. You're kind of in disbelief that she hopped on a bus by herself and somehow ended up in your neighborhood safely. It's almost an hour later when your phone rings.

"Hey y/n, you called me?" Bucky says when you pick up the phone.

"I did! Are you home?" You ask.

"Just walking to the door now how did you know?"

"Well I just wanted to let you kn-"

"Wait a second why is my door open?" He mutters.

"Oh I thi-"

"Hang on doll, I left Lily to take care of something and the door was open when I got back." Bucky says quietly. You can hear him calling out for Lily as he walks through the house, each unanswered call making the next a bit more frantic.

"Bucky?" You call him after a few minutes.

"Sorry y/n I just- Lily is missing. She's not here and I-"

"James she's not missing. She's with me. That's why I called you." You finally manage to tell him.

"What is she doing with you?"

"Well the story goes she got impatient waiting for you so she tried to take herself to the library and took the wrong bus. I was out and happened to see her across the street so brought her to my apartment." You explain.

"She got on a bus? By herself?!" Bucky's voice gets a bit louder when he asks that.

"I'm as surprised as you are. Did you want me to bring her to you or are you going to come get her?"

"I'll come there. Give me like 20 minutes." Bucky says.

"Alright, just text or call when you get here." You tell him. He hums an affirmative before hanging up. "Lily, that was your dad, he's on his way to pick you up." You tell her.

"Am I in trouble?" Lily asks quietly.

"Well, I can't say for sure but probably. You left without an adult and didn't tell your dad or any of your guardians- you really worried him." You tell her.

"I just wanted to go to the library." She pouts.

"The library isn't going anywhere. I'm sure your father will never let you out of his sight again but he can still take you. Maybe just, not today." You offer kindly. A little over twenty minutes later you get a text from Bucky saying he's downstairs. You take Lily down to where Bucky is standing, leaning against his car. He scoops Lily into his arms quickly, hugging her tightly before pulling back to look at her.

"Don't you ever do something like this again Lily do you understand me?" He says sternly. Bucky tugs open the door of the car and starts to buckle her into her booster seat.

"I just wanted to go to the library daddy." Lily pouts at him.

"You know better than to leave the house without me or one of your uncles. What were you thinking?"

"I've ridden the bus before!"

"Not alone! Look we will talk about this when we get home." Bucky sighs standing up and closing the door to the car. "This girl will be the death of me." Bucky shakes his head.

"She's a curious one for sure." You muse.

"I can't believe you didn't get in touch with me when you realized she was wandering by herself. A text or something, this was an emergency."

"An emergency? That's an exaggeration I think. Besides, I called you and you didn't answer remember? I didn't think it was necessary to blow up your phone because she was sitting on my couch eating goldfish and therefore she was safe. It's not like she was in any danger."

 "It isn't for you to decide what's an emergency. You aren't her mother. Lily's safety is my responsibility." Bucky snaps. Your eyes widen momentarily before your face sets into a frown.

"Yeah I- I know I'm not her mother, I'm not trying to be but I've also known her for over a year and was her teacher so I thought that since you weren't reachable I would be considered a responsible adult who can be trusted with Lily's safety. I guess won't make that back mistake again." You cross your arms, confused as to why he lashed out at you. Your words hang in the air for a moment before Bucky lets out a sigh.

"Y/n-" Bucky reaches for you but you step back away from his reach.

"I have to, finish putting in grades so I'm going to go back up to my apartment. I'm just glad nothing happened to your daughter before I found her." You say. You turn around and walk back towards your apartment before Bucky can say anything. You almost want to look back at him as you walk away but you will yourself not to, sure you'll lose your resolve if you do. You almost think maybe it's a bit much for you to be upset about this, you want to be understanding, but you can't help taking his response personally. Back in your apartment, you try to focus your attention on work. Everything takes you much longer than usual but you do manage to get it done eventually, even with Bucky's scathing words ringing in the back of your mind. 

~

When the bell rings, you glance at the clock with surprise.

"Alright kids everyone grab your bookbags. Make sure your homework is written down, I'll see you all tomorrow!" You say and your kids are quick to pack up. You set yourself up at your desk to do some work while the kids trickle out to meet their parents and get on their buses. A knock on your doorframe causes you to look up from your computer.

"James." Surprise is clear in your tone as you pull your glasses off of your face.

"Hi, hope I'm not interrupting." He says quietly as he walks in with one arm behind his back.

"Not particularly, the school day is over. What are you doing here?" You stand from your desk to meet him halfway.

"Apologizing." Bucky's arm comes out from behind him, a bouquet of flowers in hand. "I was, way out of line last week. I was really stressed over the fact that Lily had done something so risky and I took it out on you which I shouldn't have done and I'm sorry."

"It's alright James." You say, taking the flowers from him.

"It's not alright. I hurt you, I saw that the minute I said it and I never want to do that to you. If it weren't for you we'd probably be having a very different conversation about Lily that day. I didn't even thank you, I was busy drawing lines in the sand because of my own fears-" Bucky trails off with a strange look.

"Fears?" You prompt curiously.

"Lily adores you. Truthfully it worries me sometimes. I mean of course I want her to get along with the person I'm seeing but, you're also the first person I've dated since she came home. I- I worry that if things go south, if I screw this up, Lily's going to get hurt in the crossfire." He frowns.

"Neither of us can predict the future, but I can say that if you let your insecurities rule your life that way you won't be able to enjoy things even if they do last." You offer, "and don't assume you're going to screw things up. I really like you Bucky, and I understand this is new to you but building trust has to start somewhere."

"I know- you're right and I do trust you, this is just- all very new to me and it's intimidating. How much I care about you, how much Lily cares too."

"And we'll figure it out, but we'll do it together." You say placing a hand on his arm comfortingly.

"You are so much more than anything I could've expected." Bucky whispers.

"Don't say that like you don't deserve me." You warn him. Bucky chuckles.

"How did you- maybe you know me more than I thought." He hums.

"I'm learning." You smile and Bucky laughs again.

"Lily's in the car so I have to go, but I'll call you. Okay?" Bucky says.

"Okay. That's fine. Go be a dad." You joke. Bucky laughs as he leaves your classroom. You know relationships aren't always easy but if this is how you and Bucky resolve arguments you honestly think things will be just fine. Even though he's worried for nothing.

***

Tagged Users: @marvel-fandom23 @alana4610 @marvel-wifey-86

Anthology Masterlist

[b1t5andpi3c3s]

I saw that you opened Moon Knight requests and I ran to your askbox- if you wouldn’t mind, could I request #5 of the prompt list: "Wish me luck. Wait, I don't need luck -- I have you." With Marc Spector/Stevan Grant?

Locked like a Fortress, but I Love You Anyway

Word Count: 775 Summary: You love Steven, and it's hard watching someone you love go through dark times + using 5. "Wish me luck. Wait, I don't need luck -- I have you." Warnings: Sleeping Disorder, Chains and locking up, dissociative identity disorder (but I don't actually talk about it) Pairing: Steven Grant x Reader

Laying on your back, you stared unseeing at the ceiling, next to you laid your partner, Steven Grant, his wild locks of dark brown hair strewn across the pillow in his struggle to outrun his demons. Now, he was still and his normally worried face was smoothed out.

The quiet and peacefulness of the apartment was only broken by the ticking out the clock and Steven’s sleeping app.

Huffing, you turned over to face Steven, sleep was begging you to take it and run, to fall into the unconscious lands that Steven tried so distraughtly to stay away from. Watching the man’s chest rise and fall with every breathe he took, you guessed yourself lucky that he allowed you to see him like this, at his most vulnerable.

You knew of his fears about what happened at night. Of what he thought he did at night. How he would go to sleep without injury, then wake up the next morning, bruises and cuts along his body. How he grew more and more paranoid as the nights passed.

It got so bad that he eventually brought home a chain, padlock and a bag of sand (which you soon learned he was going to use to create a line around the end of the bed), he even hired a locksmith to install your front door with two extra locks.

Now every night he goes through his schedule of fixing the line of sand at the end of the bed, bolting and chaining the door with the locks, placing a piece of tape over the crack, before finally he put the chain around his ankle and padlocked it shut, making sure to dial the numbers every which way.

It was slowly getting to you, this madness. His constant worry that someone was following him, that he was unsafe. It was getting too much at times, and you slowly started to ask yourself whether or not you were in a safe environment at all.

The sun slowly peeked through the window, lighting up your apartment, and making you realise that you were going to be working on only a couple hours of sleep today. You could hear the coffee machine calling your name.

Quietly getting up from the bed, you avoided stepping in the sand as you made your way to the kitchen, and turning on the coffee machine. The noise of grating coffee beans sounded like a band and you silently cursed the fangled thing, peeking over to a still sleeping Steven.

The wait for your daily dose of sunshine didn’t take long, and before the clock could tell you it was 7 o’clock, you already had your mug cupped in your cold hands.

With a gasp, Steven bolted up from the bed, he seemed like he was in a trance, running from the bed like he was being chased. However, with his ankle still chained to the post, he didn’t make it far, and ended up falling to the floor, gasping for air.

“Steven!” you placed your coffee to the side, rushing over to the man, kneeling beside him to check if he was alright or not. “Mmhm.” “Let me unlock you.”

Running over to the post, you quickly slot the correct numbers in and pulled the padlock off the chain, allowing Steven to relax his leg from being held in an awkward position.

“Come on,” helping Steven up, you quickly brought the still sleepy and stunned man to sit in one of the dining chairs, passing him your mug of coffee, as a way to try and centre him. “Again?” he didn’t need to elaborate, and you solemnly nodded you head in understanding. “You sure you don’t want to see someone about it?” “No.”

The short conversation drifted off, leaving you to make yourself another cup of coffee, while keeping a watchful eye on a still dazed Steven, who was slowly sipping from your first drink. Eventually, he seemed fine enough to get up and have some of the toast you had prepared, before getting ready for work.

“How’s what’s-her-face?” “Donna?” Steven asked, slowly pulling on his jacket, thinking about the obsessed and irritating woman. You nodded. “Why?” “You think you’ll be fine today?” “Well, wish me luck,” Steven sighed, glancing over to the clock, rushing to pull his bag from its place on the table, and finish packing his stuff in it, while simultaneously trying to finish his food. “Good—” you were cut off, by a kiss being quickly pressed to your lips. “Wait, I don’t need luck – I have you.”

Before you could say anything in reply, Steven was already out the door.

[ravenclaw-daydreams]

𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐝𝐨 | 𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐑𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐧𝐞𝐫

Warnings: mention of assassination, graphic smut, adult content, mentions of murder, pervy men in the workplace, falling for a villain, guns, mentions of pregnancy, unprotected sex, alcohol.

Masterlist

Summary: Jackson just wants a normal life but thanks to his business, his chances were slim. but after meeting you, his chances it doesn't seem like such a long shot anymore.

A/N: Reading Jack's Villian wiki gave me the idea, and the personality section is what really set it in motion. He's more human than we thought, folks. I felt VERY inclined to write this. :)

Jack wasn't proud of his work. He never was. But he knew that once he got into the business, he could never get out. And as fate would have it, you met him on the job.

Your boss was a ruthless, lying, manipulative son of a bitch, and you just so happened to be his receptionist. You hated your job and the way your pig of a boss would always make it sickeningly obvious he was starring at your breasts when asking you to make a call. You hated him. Sometimes you would imagine ways to kill the bastard and get away with it too.

Apparently, someone else had the same idea, but actually took the initiative of hiring an assassin. That's where you came in.

It was a late Friday night, and after a long grueling day of putting up with your boss's demands, you were so happy to see the front door of your home. You couldn't wait to collapse on the couch with a glass of red wine and have a leisurely weekend.

You fiddled with your keys as you tried to find the right one. 'Why the hell did I have all those keys anyways?' you thought to yourself bitterly as you shuffled them around.

But the sound of a gun cocking from behind you made you freeze. Air caught in your throat as you tried to convince yourself you didn't just hear what you thought you heard.

"Don't let me stop you," a smooth masculine voice from behind you sneered, pressing what you presumed to be the barrel of the gun point-blank onto your back, "Unlock the door, step inside. Scream and you die."

You gave a small nod, your search for the right key more frantic now, and once you found it, your shaking hand fumbled with it before finally slipping it into the keyhole, your trembling hand opening the door, and you felt yourself get pushed inside.

The door slammed behind you, and that's when you whipped around, now face to face with your captor. The gun was still pointed at you, but the man who was holding it was what stopped you in your tracks.

If someone told you that morning that you were going to be held at gunpoint by one of the most attractive men you had ever seen in your life, you would have laughed in their face. But you weren't laughing now.

"What do you want?" you managed to squeak out, his piercing blue eyes bore into yours.

"Well, I have a job to do, to put it plainly, and you're one of the only people that can help me complete it," he began to explain, "And you don't have a choice."

"What are you wanting from me?"

"Your boss. I want you to call him and tell him that there's something going on and he needs to swing by the office. Once he obliges, my guys who are waiting outside the building as we speak will take it from there."

"You're going to kill him?" you gasped. Sure, you considered doing it yourself, but you never thought anyone would actually try to do it.

"You don't need to worry about that. What you need to worry about is the gun that's pointed at you right now," he concluded, reaching for your home phone, politely holding it out for you to take.

You paused, and he raised a brow. Out of instinct, you tried to bolt past him to the front door, but when you realized it wasn't going to work, it was too late. He grabbed you violently as you thrashed in his grasp before he collapsed the two of you on the couch. He held you in one position until he felt your breathing calm, your neck in a headlock as you faced away from him, panting like an angry dog.

"Stop getting cute," he hissed next to your ear, and even though you couldn't see his face, you knew his teeth were gritting.

He finally trusted you wouldn't pull anything else after he gave a harsh squeeze to your trapped throat, and he let you go, and you immediately scooted to the other side of the couch.

You felt his eyes on you, and with a sudden jerked movement, he held out what you thought was the gun, making you flinch. But with a double-take, you realized it was just the phone.

You reached out, taking it, his eyes never leaving yours. You felt as if you could see something in his gaze. Something longing. Something not quite there. Reluctance.

Shaken fingers press the numbers as you click 'dial', but before you could hold it up to your ear, your captor stopped you.

"Nuh-uh. Speaker."

You nodded, pressing the speaker button before the dial tone echoed through your home. After three times, the line was suddenly picked up.

"What the hell are you doing calling at this hour?" your boss's harsh voice hissed through the phone.

"Yeah, Mr. Snider, there seems to be something happening at the office. Someone from the administration is here and demanding to see you," you tried your best to sound convincing.

"What do they fucking want?" he scorned, his tone making you flinch.

"I wish I knew, sir. They won't tell me anything," you tried to force a smile in your voice.

"Fucking useless," he grunted, making you shift uncomfortably.

"Should I tell them you're on your way?" you proposed.

"Fuck. Fine. I'll be there in 15. And hey, don't get bitchy with me, yeah? Don't forget, you work for me."

"Yes sir," you muttered, loud enough for him to hear.

All the while Jack was watching your reactions. He saw how you flinched at strong tones and saddened at the insults.

The sound of the line going dead was what snapped him back to reality, your still shaking hand setting it down on the coffee table.

"Is that all you needed?" you finally spoke.

"I wish I could say yes," his words made your gaze shift to the floor in disappointment, "I need to stay here until the deed is done."

"How long will that be?"

"After I make this phone call to let the guys know the target is on his merry way, we'll wait until I get a call back. Then we can part ways and you'll never speak of it to anyone. Or else I will have no other choice but to come back and kill you."

You curled in on yourself, resting your chin on your knees as you didn't answer, the sounds of a number being dialed making you cringe.

The sudden movement of him standing up made you flinch, and for a second you thought you almost saw a look of sympathy flash through his eyes before he held the phone to his ear, waiting for the other line to pick up.

"Stu? Yeah. Yeah, she called. He's on his way. He'll be there in 10. Make it look believable, yeah? Clients aren't paying us for anything that looks tacky."

Jack continued his conversation on the phone as he made his way to your kitchen, still in clear view of you. A few moments later he came back, the phone now hung up, a glass of water in his hand.

"Drink," he commanded.

"I'm not thirsty,"

He suddenly set the phone down, taking one of your hands and wrapping it around the cup, "I don't want you passing out on me. Drink," he commanded again.

Now it felt as if you had no choice. You lifted the cups to your lips, gently sipping as he watched you like a hawk until all the water was down your throat.

"Good girl," he praised jokingly, setting the glass on the table.

He then sat down with you on the couch. There was a prolonged silence.

"What's your name?" you finally asked.

He turned to you and cocked a brow.

"Sorry... just trying to make conversation," with an assassin you added bitterly in your head.

He scoffed, the room going back to silence, the two of you waiting... listening.

"Jackson."

"What?" you questioned, looking at him.

"My name. It's Jackson."

"Oh," you replied, "Well, I'm (name)."

"I know," he smirked.

You mentally facepalmed. Of course he did. He was an or assassin for fuck's sake.

"Can I call you Jack?" you asked meekly.

"Seeing as you won't ever see me again, sure. I haven't been called Jack since I was a kid though."

You could tell he was trying to open up. Just a little. Besides, he was right. It wasn't like he was ever going to see you again.

"Why?"

"Rippner. It's my last name," he explained.

"Oh shit," you said in spite of it not being lady-like, "That was a dick move on your parent's part."

"Tell me about it."

The conversation unfolded. You spoke about names, childhood experiences, hell, even what your favorite ice cream flavor was. It was a careless conversation with the mentality of getting everything out there.

You almost forgot that your boss was being killed right as you spoke. You felt the man in front of you open up. He was okay with being vulnerable with you.

That was until the phone rang, Jack rushing to pick it up.

"Yeah?"

His facial expression was unreadable as you watched him. Finally, he hung up the phone, his face returning to the same cold and distant look it had the moment you two had met.

"Well, (name), this is where we part ways," he began, but before he could walk to the front entryway, you grabbed his hand.

He looked startled as he turned around, his eyes searching your face for an answer. Your move was bold. Risky. But you were willing to take it.

"Don't go." your mouth moved before you could stop it.

He narrowed his eyes, almost as if he didn't believe it was you talking. Yet his hand was still being held tightly in yours.

"Please don't go."

☆○o。　　。o○☆☆○o。　　。o○☆☆○o。　　。o○☆

1 Year Later

☆○o。　　。o○☆☆○o。　　。o○☆☆○o。　　。o○☆

You flipped in your sleep, half awake when you realized the spot next to you was bare, the indent of the once sleepless man in his place. You sighed as you flipped back over, looking at the clock.

2:15 am.

You pulled yourself away from your kingdom of soft pillows and blankets and slipped out of bed, your feet pressing against the hardwood of your home. You left the bedroom, crept down the hallway, and when you were finally met with the living area of your home, you were met with the form of your lover.

He was hunched over on the couch, hovering over a glass of red wine that rested in his hand. He seemed to be lost in thought, his blue eyes no longer piercing but distant.

The creak of the floorboards under you gave your position away, the man glancing up at you, spooked.

An instant look of regret graced his beautiful features, "Honey, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

"Hush," you sighed, "It's warmer out here anyway," you concluded.

"Even without your mountain of blankets?" he smirked, thinking of how adorable you looked cuddled up under the mound of linen.

"The bed is always cold when you're not in it," you whined, stilling next to him as he continued to nurse his glass of red liquid.

"Sorry love," he sighed, setting down the glass before wrapping his arms around you, your head resting on his chest as you listened in on his heartbeat. It was soft and lulling as you felt your eyes begin to droop.

That was, until you felt his hard-on press up against your back. A smirk crossed your lips.

"Is this why you couldn't sleep?" you questioned, subtly rubbing up against his bulge as you heard his breath catch in his throat.

"As I said," he muttered, "Didn't want to wake you."

"You could have just said so," you sat up, giving him a passionate kiss, one hand going in his hair, the other going down to his crotch, where he let out a primal groan at the feeling of your touch.

"I'm gonna be honest, I'm not really in the mood for foreplay," he stated, his hand reaching your lace panties and ripping them off, pulling you on his lap so you straddled him.

He pulled his boxers down to his knees, his cock springing up. The tip was flushed and angry, pre-cum leaking from the tip, the ridges of his veins pumping.

You bit your lip as you hovered over his gorgeous cock before sinking down slowly, the both of you moaning as you become one. Not long after you began to bounce up and down on his cock.

Jack growled as he grabbed a hold of your hips, helping you as he lifted you on and off his cock, searching for solace in orgasm. His eyes locked with yours as you rode him, and in his eyes, you found nothing but love and admiration, every part of him screaming in appreciation for you.

To put it plainly, he loved the way you loved.

You felt yourself tighten, yet to your disdain, your lover found his release first, a loud groan escaping his lips as he poured himself into you, the warmth in your belly growing as you felt him let go.

By the time he was finished, he was completely blissed out, but you weren't done yet. You wanted to cum. You pulled him out of you, and he watched as his spend dripped out of your swollen mound.

Before he could ask if you were okay, you were already back on him, your thighs now straddling one of his.

"What are you doing?" he asked darkly, raising a brow.

"Shut up," you hissed, rubbing your clit on the meat of his thigh, not wanting to lose any fraction that was already built up.

He caught the hint, his hands finding your hips once again as he helped you drag your throbbing cunt against the skin of his leg. All the while, he whispered filthy things in your ear, knowing it would get you there faster.

"Look at you go. Bet you're not so tired now, eh? Humping my leg like a little bunny. Such a good girl, huh?" he coaxed in your ear, and you nodded desperately, immediately agreeing with whatever he was saying. You just wanted to cum.

Finally, you felt yourself come right up to the edge. Jack knew all your body language perfectly, smirking at you as he began to speak.

"Come on, cum for me, baby. Let me watch you cum,"

And you did. Oh, you did. Your ears rang as your eyes shut tight, feeling your body tense and shake as you let your orgasm sweep you away.

Jack helped you ride through it, his words of praise now seeping into your brain.

"Good girl, there you go," he crooned as you began to catch your breath.

You panted as you slumped against him, hearing his heartbeat once more, matching your breathing with his. You felt him press a small kiss to the crown of your head.

"Thank you," he whispered, and all you could do was nod.

Then he began to stand, "Now come on. Let's go take a shower."

"Can I bring the wine?" you asked intently.

"Fuck it," he laughed.

☆○o。　　。o○☆☆○o。　　。o○☆☆○o。　　。o○☆

3 Months Later

☆○o。　　。o○☆☆○o。　　。o○☆☆○o。　　。o○☆

"You're doing it again,"

Jack looked up at you at the sound of your voice. He was sitting there, his hands folded and his jaw clenched, his leg bouncing up and down in anxiety as he went back to staring at the developing pregnancy test on the table.

"What?" he finally said.

"You're overthinking. I can see it in your face."

He rolled his eyes, seeming harsher than he intended. But he was nervous. In complete honesty, you were the first thing Jack had that had any semblance of normal. and after the things he's done and after the things he'd seen, normal was everything he wanted. And that's what this baby meant.

He craved normal. Life as an assassin didn't really scream domestic. But with you, everything he had ever wanted was wherever you were.

"Whatever the test reads, we'll be okay," you ensured, walking behind him and wrapping your arms around the anxious man, doing your best to calm his rapturing nerves.

"Yeah," he agreed, taking a deep breath, "We'll be okay."

The timer suddenly went off, the both of you perking up, chomping at the bit to get to the test, your fingers clutching it as you looked at it.

You gasped.

Jack froze.

You bolted into his arms, test in hand, bawling like a baby.

"You're gonna be a dad, Jack! You're gonna be a dad!!" you squealed, your arms wrapped tightly around him as he held you tight.

He began to tear up, "Really?"

You pulled back and nodded, showing him the test that read positive. He took it in his hands as a means to do a double-take, looking at the two little blue lines.

Without a word, he embraced you again, holding you tighter. His voice was muffled against your shoulder. From him came a small:

"Thank you."