#anyways please continue not perceiving me; thanks

[teleport-teapot]

[thefrogdalorian]

Having of those moments where I wish to yeet the like button into the sun or maybe make it so there was setting you could turn on so that people can only reblog posts (even better with the minimum requirement of adding at least one tag)!!

It's kind of absurd that one of my fics is getting close to 500 notes while simultaneously being one I've had the least actual human interactions come from. Like...... come on, that's now how it should be AT ALL!

Don't get me wrong, I'm so thrilled people are clearly finding it and I guess enjoying it(??) but just having endless likes without people letting me know what they enjoyed about it or even if they liked it kind of makes me sad. That's not why I want to share my writing here!

I love having those little human connections with others. I don't ever want my writing to feel transactional. I would love to talk to more people about things I've written. It's truly one of the best feelings and I would hate to lose that, the more I write or the more notes my fics get. Please don't be shy!! I get the social anxiety, but there is no reason to be. I am truly just a Din Djarin obsessed loser.

Anyway, whine over. I don't want to focus on the negatives here and I appreciate every single person who has ever left a positive interaction with something I've written. You are truly a light!

[lightseoul]

hi! please could you do number 7 with the mc having a ghost-related quirk??

decided to quickly write this one just in time for halloween! i hope y'all enjoy this little piece amidst the boop war we all find ourselves in right now lol. thank you for playing n have a nice day <3

(this is lightseoul's 2k milestone event ft. bakugou katsuki! to play, view the numbered list of prompts here, then simply send an ask with your chosen number and i'll whip something up!)

7. "THE GHOSTS WOULD DISAGREE WITH YOU." (1.3k)

“you’re a fucking weirdo, you know that?”

you don’t even look up from the churro you’re munching on, opting to ignore the ash-blonde sitting right next to your left.

“what,” he continues, and if you didn’t know any better, he’s starting to sound a little annoyed. “you’re not even gonna defend yourself?”

what you’re not about to do is tell him you’ve heard that taunt over and over again growing up, lest you end up seeming pitiful, which you aren’t.

so you merely shrug. “i don’t see the point. i know it’s not true.”

at that, you finally glance at the man, who’s looking nothing short of speechless under the dim light of the lounge that’s decked out with ‘spooky’ embellishments.

cute is the first thing that comes to mind.

he just fucking insulted you is the next.

still, you can’t help the smile that takes over your features. “you’re the weird one, anyway. why would you say that to your date?”

bakugou promptly breaks eye contact, choosing to stare at the human skeleton that’s conveniently parked at the corner of the room. you follow his line of vision, and you have to stop yourself from snorting at the sight.

the people manning this haunted house-themed attraction sure took budget decorating to the next level.

beside you, the pro-hero huffs. “i’m only saying that because this is your idea of a good first date,” he gestures vaguely to your surroundings, an incredulous expression on his face as he tosses you a pointed look. “a horror escape room? really?”

“what?” you say, trying to sound the slightest bit defensive for the sake of it. “it gives us plenty of excuses to get closer.”

whatever bakugou expected you to say in response, it surely wasn’t that.

the man only splutters, quickly diverting his gaze and plopping back against his seat with his muscled arms folded across his broad chest like a petulant child.

he then mutters something that you wouldn’t have caught for the life of you if it weren’t for the thing.

you grin.

“you wanted me to latch onto you for safety? you could’ve just said so.”

almost instantaneously, bakugou whips to stare at you, an absolutely horrified expression etched all over his face.

“what the fuck?”

you flash him the most innocent look you can muster. “what?”

he’s now glaring at you, but there’s no missing the redness that has crept up the high planes of his cheeks. he opens his mouth as if to say something but hesitates. he tries again, gaze fixated on you for a couple more seconds until he shakes his head in disbelief.

“…there’s no fucking way.”

you shrug again, but bakugou only stares at you, eyes squinting in suspicion. “unless…”

and, in a blink of an eye you almost could’ve missed it if you weren’t staring at him yourself, you see profound realization dawn on his features.

you gulp despite yourself.

“you have a fucking quirk?”

the truth must have been written all over your exterior, because the man leans back in slow motion like the way one would when faced with a relatively shocking revelation.

you rub at the back of your neck, suddenly feeling too self-conscious. this was the part that always made you feel uncomfortable, no matter what the context.

but especially during a first date.

“i never said i was quirkless…”

“yeah, no shit,” he retorts, not missing a single bit. “what is it, superior hearing or something?”

you shake your head slowly, “no, but it does make me privy to things that i don’t perceive with my own senses.”

bakugou’s eyebrows furrow in what you think is confusion. “what else?”

“uh—” you pause, eyes drifting down to your fiddling fingers, “—i can also levitate, be invisible, and permeate through things.”

when he doesn’t say anything for a moment, you finally chance a glance at the man, and he’s looking honest-to-god gagged.

pro-hero dynamight is fucking gagged and it’s because of you.

before he can get a word in, though, you quickly follow it up with: “but they make me so nauseous that i can barely pull them off. they’re useless, really.”

when you’re met with nothing but silence, you continue.

“i know,” you chuckle, although it comes out awkward and stilted. “it’s weird. you’re right, after all. i was just messing with you.”

more silence.

not knowing what else to do or say, you take a huge bite of your pastry, although you’re far from hungry, stomach now churning in embarrassment.

you’re in the middle of chewing the remnants of your last bite when bakugou finally speaks up.

now, you’ve heard about how the #9 pro-hero, despite his aggression and temper and generally unpleasant personality, is exceptionally intelligent, perceptive, and intuitive, but you never really thought much about it.

not even when you found out a few hours earlier that the blind date your friends set you up with was your distant superior dynamight himself.

and while you always had a thing for capable men, you didn’t want to fall early and hard lest you hurt yourself in the process. so you merely pushed back against the prejudices and expectations you had of him, and decided to just observe the person who was actually in front of you for the rest of your date.

but when he says the next thing, everything you’ve heard about him suddenly makes sense.

“…so it’s a ghost quirk.”

you don’t even get the opportunity to choke on your churro or gape at him because bakugou shakes his head so fervently, before: “that’s such a fucking waste.”

“e-excuse me?”

at your query, he locks eyes with you. “you have a strong-ass quirk, yet you’re working in admin for us. you could be doing more.”

a thousand questions fight to escape your lips, but what manages to emerge victorious is: “how’d you know i’m working admin for ground riot?”

bakugou scowls at you, but again, there’s that scarlet on his cheeks. he doesn’t answer your question, though, instead going for: “that’s your fucking takeaway?”

you shrug, not knowing what else to say. “i know my quirk is strong. but i was always made to feel like i was weird and creepy for it growing up—and until now, actually, which is why i don’t really talk about it—so i just learned not to use it.”

“well, most of it,” you add, and bakugou cocks his head to the side in question.

you take a shaky inhale.

“…ghosts still choose to talk to me.”

“that how you pick up on things beyond your five senses?”

you try not to gawk at him and at how fast he put two and two together. “…yeah.”

neither of you says anything for a few moments before bakugou finally shifts in his seat, rolling his shoulders back.

as he does so, he pipes up with: “well, i guess they’re not always accurate, though.”

you frown. although you rarely use your quirk, you still pride yourself in your capacity. “what do you mean?”

at that, bakugou turns to regard you, an unidentifiable expression on his face. “i did not want you to latch onto me.”

this time, you really can’t help it. you snort, and that grants you a glower from the pro-hero. you take it in stride, though, waving him off.

“sure, big guy.”

“don’t—” he sits up, “fucking—i’m serious—”

“yeah, but the ghosts—” he throws you a punch, which you dodge, “would disagree—” you dodge another, “ with you—” he barely misses you, “—though,” you finally finish.

and really, you don’t even need your trusty ghosts to know that—the blush that’s taken over the entirety of his face is all the proof you need.

[vennilavee]

Petrichor

pairing: stsg, geto x reader, gojo x reader, stsg x reader

summary: In the middle of the lush forest, there sits a lonely house on a hill. On a dark and rainy night, you find your way to the house and it's inhabitants while running away from a deep, dark secret that you refuse to confront. Little do you know that they welcome you with open arms because they want you in a way that you’ve never been wanted before. It’s so easy to succumb to the darkness once you’ve been invited in…

warnings: this is meant to be a horror fic so please heed with caution - vampire geto, ghost gojo, smut, biting, drinking of blood, bloodplay, unreliable narrators, murder, death and dying, suicide, everyone is a little freaky here including oc, yandere behaviors (i think??)

word count: 15k

a/n: meant to be written for spooky season in october...happy new year do not perceive me. HUGE thank you to @lovenona @libroparaiso @hoennislands for reading large chunks of this fic before i posted it, and @lovenona for the painting for the fic banner! i appreciate u<3

To add to an already terrible day, heavy and dark storm clouds cover the expanse of the sky before splitting open. Rain follows the split seam, pelting down and landing on your car before being met with your windshield wipers.

It’s a good thing you had your tires replaced recently, you think distractedly while tightening your grip on the wheel. 

The rumble of your car’s engine is the only noise you hear as you zip through the barely there road in the forest. There are no cars on this road. There are no lights, save for the high beams bursting from your car.

It feels as if you are going in circles, despite the GPS telling you that you are on the right path. You can barely see five feet ahead of you as the rain begins to downpour. You hate driving in storms. 

Perhaps you should pull over, rather than potentially wrap your car around a tree while trying to get out of this storm. Can you beat it? Can you beat the ominous clap of thunder and the bright streak of lightning? 

In the distance, you hear the winds picking up speed as the towering trees sway. The last thing you need is to die because a tree fell on you. 

All you were trying to do was clear your head with a nice, soothing drive after what can only be described as the worst week of your life. The weather forecast didn’t include heavy rain with zero visibility today. You must just be incredibly lucky.

Driving in this weather will surely result in your premature death. You make a split second decision and pull over to the side of the road, glancing at the umbrella in your passenger seat.

You scoff, stepping out into the darkness and further into the belly of the forest.

Night has fully draped over the forest and yet, the rain has not relented. You must have been walking, following your GPS for hours now. And yet, it seems as if you continue to walk further and further away from the road.

You are drenched and shivering, possibly looking like a drowned animal as you trek through the mud and fallen branches. Even if you wanted to, you wouldn’t be able to return to your car. There is no way to tell what direction it’s in anyway.

So you continue on, shivering with the hood of your jacket covering your head and cursing the skies for leaving you stranded in this endless storm. Your phone vibrates with weather alerts indicating that you should seek shelter due to extreme flooding.

How ironic.

Your umbrella is long gone, proving to be useless with the force of the rain and the wind. You are completely alone in the lush, green forest. Perhaps you stop and appreciate the scent of petrichor if you weren’t so stuck and at the mercy of the unseen forces from above.

You don’t know how much you endure the walk, but you see something in the distance. Something warm, something like the light. 

A tall, dark house sits on a hill barely visible with the darkness of the night. But you can clearly see the warmth of the lights that emanate from inside the house. 

It feels like a reprieve, a lighthouse as you are lost at sea. So you run towards the warmth.

The house is more of a mansion, you realize as you stand in front of the ornate, mahogany door. Green vines twist around the door as if to protect the house from any trespassers. They seem to pulsate when you touch them, hissing at you in an attempt to send you away.

You shiver again.

Lilies and red roses line the entryway to the front door. Despite the remote location of this strange mansion, clearly someone maintains the upkeep of it.

You’ve never seen a viridian so vibrant. It’s hard to take your eyes away from it, tracing the way drops fall from the vines onto the stark white lilies before dripping onto the meticulously carved stone pathway.

The rain pours down on you heavily, and it rolls off of your trembling shoulders. It feels dry here, like the sun is gently peering out. This strange mansion must be an oasis, or a safe haven for those lost in the woods.

You knock on the door impatiently, hoping that someone, anyone, can save you from the storm. A crack of thunder splits your ears and you jump, knocking again.

“Come on, come on,” you mutter under your breath, “Please, it’s freezing-”

The magnificent door creaks loudly before being pulled open dramatically, only to reveal a tall, white haired man with striking and absurdly blue eyes.

You can’t look directly at him for too long. You think you’ll be blinded.

“How annoying,” he drawls, “Annoying and impatient.”

“My car broke down,” you interrupt, your teeth chattering, “Please, I’m so cold-”

“Oh?” he looks you up and down several times over with an infuriating, smug grin on his stupidly handsome face.

“Can you please assess whether I’m a thief or a murderer or anything equally as dramatic while I’m inside?” you say, glaring at him, “I’ve been walking for hours, please let me in until the storm passes over. I’m begging you.”

“You’re lucky you’re so charming when you beg,” he says, waving you in.

Warmth immediately engulfs you and you sigh in relief. “Thank you, thank you, thank you-”

“Don’t thank me just yet. Didn’t you call for help?”

“My phone has no service,” you reply easily, staring him right in the eye.

“No service, What a shame. I suppose it cannot be helped,” he shrugs, “Didn’t you hear? This storm is supposed to last several days. You must be a fool for driving through this.”

“I guess so-”

“Especially in the forest. You never know what’s lurking around here.”

His smile fades and he looks at you pointedly, as if he’s looking straight through you. His gaze unnerves you but still, it takes you half a second to decide you’re staying here in the dry warmth. 

Besides, it’s not like you have anywhere to go.

“Gojo Satoru,” he says simply and begins walking away from you. Does he care to know the name of a complete stranger that he just let into his home? 

“Aren’t you afraid of strangers? Have you learned nothing from the movies? I could kill you when your back is turned,” you reply as you follow behind him.

“That’s highly unlikely,” Gojo laughs, but it sounds hollow as it echoes through the hall.

“You don’t know me.”

“I know you’re stuck in the middle of this horrendous storm with only me and the inhabitants of this house for company. You think I have reason to fear you?”

Gojo Satoru stops walking and abruptly turns to face you, crowding your vision. He speaks to you, but you’re not quite listening. You’re too enchanted by the odd blue of his eyes. Eyes that bright and deep simply do not exist beyond the walls of this house.

You think you may drown if you stare for too long. Gojo’s skin is pale, even when the lights hit the angles of his handsome face. Maybe there is a halo around his head, invisible to your eye. After all, he is the only semblance of a human that you have encountered in the last six hours. 

He must be an angel, sent to shepherd you through this storm.

Inhabitants. Gojo mentioned other inhabitants, but you have yet to see anyone else in the house. Despite the emptiness of the house, it looks homey and cozy, with trinkets and odd items strewn about. It is clear that someone lives here. Someone other than Gojo.

You try not to let curiosity get the best of you and just focus on getting warm. With chattering teeth, you allow scalding hot water to drench your skin and your hair. Trying to catch your breath as you shake like a leaf under the spray.

All alone in a strange house in the middle of nowhere with no escape. It’s enough to make anyone nervous, but you welcome it like a reprieve. A second chance. A rebirth.

You brace yourself against the wall of the shower and watch absently as blood mixes with water into the drain. 

Wholly unaware of the pair of eyes watching you in the bath, you sigh heavily as if the weight of the world is on your shoulders. It is. Everything is-

No. You won’t think about it, not now.

You can’t feel the graze of his fingertips, not when he caresses the slope of your neck or presses his fingertips to your hips. Not even when he rubs the inside of your soft thighs, or flutters over your calves just to feel the warmth of your skin. He traces the curvature of your spine with the palm of his hand, while you are none the wiser.

He stands in front of you, admiring the way you turn your neck from side to side and rub your sore muscles. Will you let your hands drift downwards? Would you give him that reprieve?

Your tits fit perfectly in his hands, spilling into his palms without any misgivings. He’d nearly forgotten how velvety a woman’s skin was. Much less a human’s. A gasp leaves his lips as he massages your chest, meeting your eyes eagerly. But you can’t see him. 

Your cheeks are heated as you lather soap on your skin with hooded eyes and bitten lips. He leans closer, sniffing your neck- you smell divine, what a gorgeous gift you might be…

And then he is called away abruptly, lamenting that loss of your warmth curled away in his hands.

A dark emerald silk robe lays on the pristinely made bed. It’s buttery and soft against your fingertips and it looks brand new. You can’t help but try it on, and somehow it fits you as if it was tailored for you. It’s perfect. You do a little spin in front of the full-length mirror and giggle to yourself, marveling at how it fits you perfectly. 

The guest bedroom he showed you to is massive, with ornate cherry wood furniture and a four poster bed that seems like it was custom made.

The warm scent of sandalwood remains on the duvet and on the pillows as you sink into the bed and try to get comfortable. It’s been such a long day and you just want to rest…

It doesn’t take you long to fall asleep in this odd house despite only having been here for a few hours. The storm rages on outside, rain battering against the windows as it lulls you into the first peaceful slumber you’ve had in months.

It has been a long time since a human showed up drenched, terrified and shivering to his home. In the modern age, it seemed that less and less people would venture this deep into the forest. In the old days, it would have been the odd traveler or warriors passing by through the night or a woman running away from her betrothed.

Those were always his favorite visitors. These days, it’s usually just foolish, inebriated teenagers or a stray fox. Definitely not nearly as entertaining.

He remains hidden, until Gojo tells him to come out of the shadows. For now, he will remain content to watch you from a distance in his own home. Your shoulders are tense but your face is friendly as you chat away with the white-haired man as you nurse a warm cup of tea in your hands.

You keep him at arm’s length but not too far away so as to arouse suspicion from the man who gave you shelter during such a horrendous storm.

It smells so sweet inside now. Like nectar and honey and flowers. He had a feeling that dark green would be your color, anyway.

There is a portion of the house that Gojo has warned you to not enter. About half of the house is dimly lit, a sharp contrast to the rest of the house that you have seen. The quietness of the hallway just a few short steps away from your bedroom is eerie. 

You can’t help but look beyond the threshold and into the darkened hallway. 

With the risen moon in the storm as your witness, you ignore Gojo Satoru’s voice in your head and take a few tentative steps towards the forbidden part of the house.

The bedroom at the end of the hall.

It’s not your fault. He shouldn’t have made it sound so enticing.

An owl hoots in the distance, just outside the house. Is the storm still devastating the forest? It’s awfully quiet. Save for your clumsy footsteps. How long has it been? A night? Three?

Darkness is your only company as your heart thunders in your ears and you push against the heavy wooden door. A single turn of the knob reveals that the door is in fact, unlocked. 

You exhale, very aware of the hairs standing at the back of your neck. Turning your head, you squint into the darkness. Trying to shake the inevitable feeling of being watched in this endless abyss of a hallway.

You have to know. You must know why this room is forbidden to you.

So you push the door open with your full strength, only to be met with even more darkness. Somehow, it’s a different kind of darkness. The kind of darkness that swallows you and does not spit you back out. The kind that you surrender to.

Surrender comes easily.

Your pupils cannot seem to adjust to the dark, no matter how long you stand here in the forbidden room. Waiting for something - anything - a stream of moonlight, a flicker of a candle. Instead, you stand in the middle of this airy room, one that you can’t see even five feet in front of you in.

A shiver rips down your spine as the door slams shut with a sudden gust of wind from a seemingly closed window whips around you, only for the air to remain perfectly still and breathless.

Amethyst eyes stare back at you in the unmoving darkness. Mirth is clear in these eyes and your shock is amusing, it appears.

“Can’t follow instructions, can you?” The voice is syrupy and magnetic. You hear the voice, beckoning you closer, but you cannot see where the voice is coming from. 

He is illuminated by a sudden flash of thunder just by the large French windows. 

This is what Gojo must have meant by inhabitants.

The stranger stalks towards you, his steps languid and sure. You’re frozen in place, unable to move. Too mesmerized by the gold flecks in his violet eyes, and the curtain of glossy, black hair that billows with each step he takes.

Light does not need to brighten his face for him to announce his presence.

“Not great at following rules, are we?”

“Rules?” you manage to reply after a beat, squeezing your fingers together in an attempt to ground yourself. He notices, a barely there smirk forming on his handsome face.

He towers over you like a god of the skies, with the moon as his crown.

“You were told not to come here, weren’t you?” His voice is coated by soft velvet, curling around you but leaving you cold.

“Gojo’s told you about me?” you ask curiously. He talks about you? To this chiseled stranger? The thought makes your heart flutter and heat to flood your cheeks.

“I know all about the lost women who seek sanctuary in my home,” he says softly, a hand curling around your jaw. Your eyes drift to his glossy lips briefly. It’s impossible for you to look away from him, his eyes are magnetizing as they stare right through you. As if you are made of glass.

He chuckles.

The erratic beating of your heart thrums in his ears as blood rushes through your veins like syrup. He licks his lips as your eyes drop to follow his tongue eagerly. 

What a foolish girl. You don’t even know his name, and you’re already rubbing your thighs together. His reflection looks back at him in your glossy, dark eyes.

Oh, you are exquisite, a divine little thing wrapped up in a bow. A gift given to him by his lover. 

Gojo Satoru is a man of celestial tastes and he always has been for decades. He must remember to praise his lover on a job well done, after all. It’s not often that a woman with blood as sweet and ripe as yours falls into his bedroom serendipitously.

Your eyes are wide and wanting, waiting for him to say something. You just want to hear the melody of his voice once more. Just once more. Another few minutes until you leave his bedroom. Just once more.

His touch is icy cold as his thumb parts your lips further, a sharp exhale blowing against his face. A shiver wracks your spine once more but you will not leave his embrace. The simple touch makes you feel alive again, as if you have been searching and searching for something for years but have not been able to find it.

It feels familiar and foreign.

“Go back to bed, girl,” he says dismissively.

“Can’t I stay? With you?” you ask unabashedly, reaching for his velvet, black robe. You catch a sliver of his tanned chest from underneath his robe and swallow.

He is vaguely reminded of a stray kitten, desperate for attention. Adorable, and pathetic.

“Not yet,” he replies, disappearing back into the darkness that he emerged from with a featherlight touch to your cheek, “Not yet.”

His voice echoes through the walls of the grand bedroom, bouncing off of the ornate paintings. You leave the room, wondering if the enigmatic man with purple eyes was merely just a dream conjured up by the wildest parts of your subconscious.

Time must operate on a different frequency in this house. You’ve slept at least six nights here, and yet the storm is as vengeful as it was the first day you arrived at the house. There is no sign of the storm easing up, either. With no end in sight, you continue to explore the house, thoughts of your car long forgotten.

You’ve yet to come across the purple-eyed man again.

Gojo Satoru is the best company you’ve had in weeks. Possibly months, or years. He finds you in the library more often than not, or in the garden. 

The garden that seemingly has not been marred by the wicked winds of the storm. Somehow, the house stands still, impervious to mother nature.

“What are you reading today?” comes a voice far too close to your ear. Gojo Satoru loves invading your personal space, as you’ve come to learn.

“It’s a history book,” you reply, not looking up from the page you’re on. He doesn’t need to know, but you’ve stopped reading the page ever since you noticed him appear in the room. You’ve been waiting for him to stop by, as he always does.

“How absolutely fascinating,” he says, sitting next to you and pushing the book aside to lay his head on your lap, “Now you have something nicer to look at.”

“Is that so?”

You look down at him, once again startled by the blue of his eyes. No matter how many times you’ve seen it, it always takes your breath away. It takes a moment to adjust to the unnatural hue of his eyes and his stark white hair.

He smiles at you. At that moment, he looked so boyish and young. You wonder how long he’s been here.

“You’ve made quite a home for yourself here, haven’t you,” he muses.

“Have I overstayed my welcome?” you don’t sound particularly troubled by it.

“Not at all. Don’t you want to get back home? I’m sure you have people wondering where you are. A child? A spouse?” he probes, eyebrows raising when your heart quickens at the mention of a spouse.

“He’s not waiting or wondering where I am,” you say bitterly, immediately tensing up, “He never loved me.”

“I’m sure he’s worried about you-”

“No. He’s not,” you say with a note of finality. You look away, at your hands in your lap as your face falls and something far away settles on your features. Your lips tug into a slight frown. 

“Well, anyone would be lucky to have you love them. He wasn’t worthy,” Gojo soothes you with a comforting squeeze of your hands.

“No, he wasn’t,” you reply. Your eyes are glassy and distant, as if you are replaying a memory of your past in your mind. It was simple, until it wasn’t. You were enough, until you weren’t. “I am deserving of a lover who would do anything for me.”

“Of course you are, darling,” he says, sitting up and tilting your chin up to meet your eyes, “I’m sorry anyone convinced you otherwise.”

You turn toward him, meeting his gaze with big, watery eyes. Your hands are held tightly within his, as you lean towards him. Allowing your gaze to flicker to his pouty lips and back to his eyes.

“You deserve a lover who would write you love letters,” he murmurs, “Compare you to the moon’s beauty.” A kiss to your chin. “Be your lighthouse in the storm.” A kiss to your cheek. “Protect you from the darkness of the world by destroying it. Keep you safe,” A kiss to your eyelid. “A lover who would do anything for you.” A kiss to the corner of your lips.

“A lover who would kill for you.”

A final barely there kiss to your lips. Your cheeks are warm, chest fluttering as you lean into him once more to press your lips to his again. He lays back against the couch so that you lay on top of him comfortably as you chase his kisses. You are impatient, your hands straying to his hair, to his chest to unbutton his shirt.

Your moans are soft in his ears, as if you haven’t been touched like this in forever. Gojo watches the pretty planes of your face shift as he focuses his energy on you, on gripping your hips and letting his hands wander over you before resting on your chest. Your heart is hammering away, soft and delicious.

He looks ethereal under you, fallen from the skies above. You can’t pull away, certainly not from the foreign look in his eyes. One that you’ve never seen before, not in your husband, not in previous lovers… It’s for you, the look of ripe, unbitten desire.

“Oh, you are a gorgeous thing, aren’t you?”

Your skin feels overheated- with too many layers covering the space between you and the man beneath you. You struggle to take your dress off, but Gojo replaces your fingers with his own.

“I’ll take care of you, won’t I? You’ll let me take care of you?”

You nod wordlessly as he lifts you up to take your dress off. You sit completely naked on top of him while he is still clothed.

Your face is buried in his neck as you rut your hips against him, trying to gain friction. Gojo looks up and to the side, feeling a pair of eyes on his back. Purple meets blue and he winks at his lover and smiles before turning his attention to you.

He hopes his dear lover is watching.

Geto Suguru is exhausted, deep within his centuries old bones. Blood does not come by the house as often as it used to, and while it would be just as easy to go to the nearest city to get his fill…

It does not hold the same pleasure anymore. Besides, when his lover is intent on finding him an everlasting source of blood, who is he to argue?

He is just so hungry, absolutely famished. It doesn’t help that a brilliant and beautiful damsel is sleeping in his home, just down the hall. He can hear your soft breaths and the rustle of the sheets as you twist and turn. Are you dreaming of him?

He supposes he can find out just as easily.

He enters your dreams with hardly any resistance from you. Your mind is malleable as he sifts through as if flipping pages of a book. There are patches of grey darkness melded in with hues of emerald and cerulean and amber as he takes a look around the essence of your mind. 

It’s almost as if your subconscious can sense his presence and clears a path for him.

There you are, standing in a cemetery surrounded by fallen leaves and dead trees. The sky is grey, fitting with the melancholy that surrounds the cemetery. A breeze in the air whistles through his hair and leads him to you.

Sitting in front of a tiny memorial with an odd smile on your face. 

Is this a dream, or is this a memory?

He makes a note of the name on the memorial, just as you lift your head and stare vacantly at him. Almost as if he’s made of glass and you are looking straight through him to the other side.

The dream shifts in a puff of smoke and he is suddenly in an apartment shrouded in shadows and darkness with nothing but the sounds of hoarse voices speaking loudly to each other. Not quite yelling, but not quite talking quietly either.

“... You never loved me, never made me a priority-”

“That’s not true and you know it-”

“You can’t wait to get rid of me, can you-”

“You have this version of love in your fucked up head that doesn’t exist. That nobody can live up to-”

“I just want you to love me and protect me!”

Then there is crying and harsh screaming. It grates against his eardrums before ebbing away into nothingness. 

Until he is flung into an ocean of blood and nearly drowns trying to get back into reality.

An envelope outside your bedroom door awaits you after your morning walk in the garden. It is addressed to you, with your name written in black ink in cursive with a large wax seal. You run your finger over the seal in awe.

Who exactly are the men who live in this house, anyway?

The letter reads: 

You are cordially invited to join me for dinner tonight, at 6:30 PM sharp. You will find three dresses in the closet of your bedroom. Choose wisely. 

I look forward to our evening together.

There is no signature, only initials embossed in the parchment paper in silky, black print. The initials are shiny and wet, as if it was just signed and placed under your bedroom door.

You hold the letter close to your chest, unable to keep the giddy smile off of your face. Ever since you were a young girl, you’ve always dreamed of a lover who would write you letters dictating their unconditional love for you.

You look at the letter again, tracing over the initials gently and press a gentle kiss to the ink. How utterly enchanting.

You decide on the muted mauve gown with tiny, shimmering stars embedded into the tulle. Will your mysterious dinner guest be happy with your choice? Which of the three dresses did he want to see you in?

Your heart flutters at the thought of seeing the long, dark haired man with otherworldly eyes chance a glance at you once more.

He awaits you in lustrous black robes at the bottom of the neverending marble spiral staircase, looking like a painting come to life. Your breath catches in your throat when he meets your eyes with that soft up-turn of his lips.

“Good evening,” he says, voice carrying as he offers his arm to you, “Your punctuality is alluring.”

“Only my punctuality?” you ask breathlessly.

“I suppose that remains to be determined, doesn’t it?” 

He leads you to the dining room, one of the many rooms you have not explored yet. A heavy chandelier glitters above the dark mahogany table and if you look for longer than a second, you’d be able to see your reflection in it.

“I’ve observed you, you know. Exquisite taste in books,” he informs you.

“Oh, yes, I’m…well-read, I guess,” you shrug, taking a sip of your flavorful soup.

“I’ve seen you in the library. That old couch isn’t very comfortable. Is it you who leaves my books out in disarray?” he teases.

“What?! I never left behind a mess-” you protest but relax when you see his grin, “Oh. Don’t make fun of me.”

You both sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes. He barely touches his full plate of food, instead opting to take in your presence in his home. In just a few short days, you’ve made this house your own home.

“Tell me,” he says, his voice curling around you and warming your cold hands, “What are you reading? What’s caught your attention?”

“A little bit of this, a little bit of that,” you say vaguely, “I like history.” 

“History? What about history interests you?”

“Well… I like learning about the past,” you muse, “We’re doomed to repeat history if we don’t see the patterns throughout time…”

“Yes, we certainly are,” he nods, “History is funny that way.”

“It is. Our own histories are just a reflection of that, too.”

“Oh?”

“We’re doomed to make the same mistakes if we don’t recognize our own flaws… I suppose.”

“And what are your flaws?” he asks smoothly, making you laugh.

“I have none, couldn’t you tell?” you reply with a wink.

He merely looks at you, staring at you as if he can see right through you into the fibers of your soul. It’s unnerving, and you look away to focus on your food and on chewing each bite thoroughly. He doesn’t eat much, if anything, only drinking every few minutes from his glass of wine. But his eyes remain transfixed on you even as you sit in silence.

“I want to show you something,” he says once you’re finished with your meal.

You nod and let him lead the way.

He takes you through the garden, past freshly bloomed tulips, cherry blossoms and red spider lilies and dewy, green bushes. Your eyes are suddenly filled with color, but all you can fix your gaze on is the man who glides in front of you with your hand in his.

His hand is cold, but his voice is warm like tea.

The summer rains continue to fall, but not on you. 

In the center of the vast garden sits a shimmering lake with the bluest, clearest water that you’ve ever seen. Your eyes are wide in wonder. Is there a mountain hidden beyond the trees?

“This lake wasn’t here when we moved into the house,” the man says softly.

“How is that possible?”

“The universe gave her to us when we needed her most,” he replies, turning his head with an intense stare.

“And you believe that?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

You shrug, breaking eye contact with him to look back at the lake. The man is intense, like a blazing fire in the darkness. You can’t help but hold onto his every word as he regales you with the tale of how he stumbled upon this forest. His voice is enchanting as it echoes through the silent forest- the trees must be listening to his reverence as well.

He reminds you of a tortured prince.  His voice is heard from further and further away as you marvel at the stillness of the young lake. Soon, you can’t hear his voice at all.

The thought should scare you, but you feel safe and protected by the trees in this forest.

You hardly realize how far you’ve walked by yourself, to the other side of the lake. Excitement (maybe adrenaline) settles in your bones as a sudden impenetrable fog emerges, and yet you touch it, wrap your hands around it. As if it has a heartbeat.

It surrounds you but is gentle in its caress as you pick up the skirt of your dress to avoid tumbling as you sprint through the woods.

The trees fade away behind you.

Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. Air fills your lungs like a reprieve. Just before you let it go and gulp down air again. The crunch of boots on fallen leaves and sound of birds fleeing does nothing to quell the nerves in your belly.

The puffy sleeve of your dress catches on a stray branch, the pretty tulle ripping into shreds. What a waste of such a beautiful dress, you think absently. Your arm begins to bleed profusely but you pay it no mind.

You are a princess, being sought after by the monster in the closet.

Geto Suguru nearly hisses when the scent of fresh blood permeates the air like a  barely hidden vice. It’s sweet, like a freshly plucked peach on a summer day.

He wonders how you’d taste on his tongue, your neck bare and craned all for him…

Dull pain radiates across his gums as his fangs descend further. Your sharp laugh pierces the uneasy quiet of the dark forest. His runaway princess, always seemingly ten steps ahead of him.

You flit in between the trees, looking over your shoulder with curious, cautious eyes. Even from this distance at the edge of the forest, he sees honey dripping from your wild eyes. 

As you look over your shoulder, you see him taking languid steps toward you. When you blink, he’s there, a shrouded shadow that you nearly miss in your line of sight. When you blink again, he’s gone. Your sprints slow to a walk before you stop completely. In the middle of these strange woods, you look up to the sky, only to see a shroud of endless grey descending upon you.

Purple blinks back at you from high up in the trees. You shiver, and he suddenly stands in front of you, his velvety black robes billowing behind him.

“You have every opportunity to leave,” he says silkily. His words melt over you, dripping onto your skin like hot candle wax. The warmth is soothing and you would do anything he asked, you think.

“I know,” you say softly.

His eyes sear into yours, searching and burning through you as he comes closer. His touch is cold as his index finger remains on your jaw, stroking your cheekbone slowly. Your eyes are wide, shining eagerly with obedience.

His lips part, his gleaming fangs lengthening so daintily and his eyes shift from purple to black. But he is still his welcoming self, with his easy smile and his gentle touch. Except, the way he smiles is different.

The shift is there, but barely recognizable. 

“You should’ve run away, little dove, ” he says softly in your ear as you shiver in his hold, “When you had the chance to.”

You shake your head, only making him graze your neck further. You are ravishing, the slow honey in your body gushing like a waterfall.

“There is nothing for me beyond this forest anymore,” you whisper softly into his ear. His lips flutter warmly against the column of your neck.

The first bite is always the most painful, but it eases away as quickly as it came as his fangs sink heartily into the delicate skin of your neck. Right next to your jugular vein, but not quite.

A sigh echoes through the forest, barely a noise over the sound of drops of your blood dripping onto his tongue. It is euphoric- your eyes flutter shut when his fangs pierce further into your neck. Almost straight into the vein.

If he’s not careful, he might drain you dry. That would be…tragic, considering the promise he made to Gojo.

But you are so sweet. Like nectar, and you walked right into his home with open arms, tangled in his decadent web.

Your grip on his robes is tight as you somehow pull him closer. As if you want him to take more out of you. How greedy. But he doesn’t, instead pulling away and licking his lips. His eyes revert back to their chilling purple as he keeps his gaze on you.

You sigh again, feeling lightheaded and dizzy. And yet, something flutters in your belly, making you smile and look up at him with lovestruck eyes.

“What’s your name?” you exhale, your breaths coming out in cold wisps as the wind bites your skin.

He smirks at you, fangs still tinted red with your blood. Your heart races.

“Geto Suguru,” he murmurs, brushing a stray drop of blood away from your neck with his lithe finger and licking it.

He says your name softly before he kisses you, the taste of metal ripe on your lips like a summer peach. Your knees immediately buckle as he slips further into your mouth. Despite the chill of his fingertips, a fire alights in your belly and spreads and spreads. Your breaths are erratic as you trail after him, struggling to keep up.

Your name in his mouth sounds like a promise.

The slight pain in the back of your head throbs lightly with each thready thought that forms in your brain, and yet all you can think about is the way Geto Suguru’s lips felt on your neck. The cold touch of his fingertips against your skin as he meticulously drank your blood.

Your blood. He chose you and he came after you in that forest.

It makes you giddy. It makes the headache worth it.

Slowly, the night turns into day. Repetitively, you hear the sound of the cozy rain and the sharpness of the wind against the windows nearly rattling the house. You don’t recall the last time you saw the sun, and yet light filters into the house through the skylights placed in the living room.

You don’t question it. It’s better than the alternative, being stuck in that stuffy house with your awful husband. Your husband who never cared for you, who never sought you out. Made you his priority.

Despite the fancy jewelry and pristine silks, the way you would dote on him, he never noticed you. He probably didn’t even notice that you were gone, anyway. You were supposed to be his favorite. His only. 

No matter. Geto Suguru drank your blood today. Nobody else’s but yours. Are you his favorite? His only?

You can’t help but laugh at such a ridiculous thought as you gingerly touch your neck and soothe the bite marks. Of course, you’re his only. You are the only woman in this house, save for Gojo Satoru. And he has been nowhere to be seen as of late. 

You must be his favorite.

“Jealousy is quite attractive on you,” Suguru says, chuckling as Satoru glares at him and throws a pillow at him half-heartedly.

“Don’t make fun of me,” Satoru sighs dramatically, throwing his arm over his eyes.

“Now you’re just being juvenile,” Suguru says, tossing the pillow back. The air is briefly knocked out of Satoru’s lungs and he tries to sit up. He glares at his lover, but the heat in his bright eyes falters as he reaches for him and cradles his jaw.

“You know this is only a means to an end,” he soothes.

“Sorry I can’t be a human again so you could drink my blood,” Satoru says petulantly, “You like her, I know you do.”

“There’s no need to be accusatory,” Suguru replies, airily, “And there’s no reason to lie. I know you like her, too. As if I don’t know that you watch her when you shouldn’t.”

Satoru rolls his eyes but his shoulders slump as he slides into Suguru’s warm embrace. “I just…I wish I could bleed for you the way you need me to. I wish I could fulfill you in the way this stranger can.”

“Oh, I’ve neglected you, haven’t I,” Suguru says softly, tightening his hold around Satoru’s narrow waist, “You brought her into our home for me. There must have been something about her that was alluring to you.”

“It’s not everyday you find a woman who abandoned her car in the middle of the worst storm in years only to show up drenched at the front door. The opportunity presented itself and I couldn’t resist.”

“She seems in no rush to leave. To go back home. We should find out why,” Suguru muses, his train of thought interrupted by Satoru’s wandering hands.

“That’s a later problem,” Satoru murmurs, letting his fingers trail up his thigh. His touch is fleeting, barely there. Just applying the tiniest pressure behind his knee, where he knows Suguru is sensitive. He shudders- it’s funny, that a vampire as old as him can still feel flustered by a simple caress.

Well, Satoru has had many opportunities to learn over the centuries from the Meiji era to now. They were both young high school boys when they met, with dreams of samurai becoming distant as their worlds cracked wide open by the introduction of new literature, new teachers, new philosophies. They were still boys, running through empty fields, sharing copies of the same books. Sharing shade under the same tree branch.

Sharing each other’s first kiss. They were boys, until they weren’t.

The clocks continued to spin until neither of them could control the inevitable passage of time. Time pulled them apart, Satoru to Tokyo and Suguru back to the countryside to take care of his parents and the farm he left behind.

They found each other again, this time under much more dire circumstances. Vampirism was spreading through Japan like a plague, and Suguru wanted to know everything about it. What was eternal life like? Was it beautiful, did it contain multitudes? Was there anything human about an immortal being?

His questions were meaningless because it didn’t take long for him to succumb to a vampire bite. His parents were dead and everything on the farm was gone, ripped to pieces and blood splattered across the wooden walls of the barn.

It took him about three decades to discover that the carnage was laid out by him. He was turned and he rained blood on his own home. It took another decade to find the vampire nest who did this to him.

Then another three decades to find Gojo Satoru once more.

He had been nestled in the heart of Tokyo, as a teacher of all things. There had been a very brief, happy reunion. It didn’t take Suguru long to realize that something was off about Satoru. The coincidences were too many- he was flighty and impulsive, rarely eating (in fact, Suguru can’t recall the last time he saw him eat any food), and he swears that his skin was translucent in the sunlight. 

“Something is keeping me here,” Satoru muses with his lover’s head in his lap, “Can’t imagine what it is.”

“I don’t want you to cross the Sanzu River, not without me,” Suguru says firmly, looking at him with red eyes.

“Is there an afterlife for vampires?” Satoru muses, “I mean, I’m surely safe. I’m a ghost, after all. A spirit tethered to the material earth, or something.”

“If you wanted to leave, you would.”

“Yes,” he says solemnly, “I suppose I would.”

It has been decades since that day and the universe has pulled them apart and brought them back together many times. For two immortal beings, spending five or eight or fifteen years apart is just a blip in the fabric of time. They both find each other each time, even when Suguru was contemplating his entire existence as a vampire and a former human. 

He had become Japan’s most infamous vampire for a period of time after draining over a hundred humans completely of their blood. How was it just, for them to hold two little vampire girls hostage when they had no say in being turned?

Suguru couldn’t stomach it- how isolating and selfish humans could be in the face of adversity. In the name of self-righteousness.

Never again, he vowed. Never again would he allow humans to treat his own that way. But Satoru brought him back from the brink of sure destruction, before Suguru could decimate the entirety of Japan.

Satoru wouldn’t let him give in to his most primal urges. He wouldn’t let Suguru lose himself because he couldn’t be bound to the earth without him-

“I can’t let you do this.”

“Don’t tell me you care-”

“I can’t let you do this to me, you can’t leave me here! Not for this. Not for them.”

“You’re selfish, Satoru!”

“So are you,” he scoffs.

But that was the end of it. Suguru’s eyes had returned to their purple and Satoru whisked him away. 

He had whisked him away from all the noise, the blood, the chaos to the towering castle in the trees that they currently lived in in the quiet of the forest-

“Hey,” Satoru questions, poking his cheek, “You just spaced out for a while.”

“I was thinking about you,” Suguru replies, turning his head to meet his caress. 

“As always-”

“You saved me. And you continue to save me,” Suguru says, “So let me show you my undying gratitude.”

Satoru hopes desperately that you can hear the echoes of his pleasure from your bedroom.

The house seems to have transfigured into more of a castle the longer you stay here. Winding staircases appear out of thin air complete with unfamiliar corridors and twists and turns.

But what remains the same is the library and how often you frequent it. The entire history of the universe must be kept in these bookshelves. There isn’t enough time in the day for you to read all of the treasures inside the library that seems to get bigger everyday.

You have been reading the same book for some time now, getting distracted by thoughts of Gojo Satoru. He hasn’t come to visit you in the library recently and you can’t help but wonder if you’ve done something to upset him for him to avoid you.

He comes and goes as he pleases. As if he’s there but he’s not there at all.

“There you are,” you say easily, sitting next to him on the bed.

“Can I help you?” Satoru says petulantly. You resist the urge to roll your eyes.

“Are you mad at me?” you ask, nudging his shoulder with yours.

“Whatever gave you that idea,” he deadpans, still not looking at you.

“Oh, come on,” you whine, tugging at his hand, “You can tell me anything.”

His head turns to you abruptly, too quickly to be considered normal. With narrowed eyes, he searches your face for any sign of deceit.

Satoru scoffs and lays back on the bed dramatically. You follow his actions and face him, meeting his terribly piercing gaze. Unable to stop yourself, you allow your fingers to graze his pale cheek. When he doesn’t flinch, you let your hand rest on his chest. He is more muscular than he looks, you think.

As if Satoru can read your thoughts, he turns to you and glares at you.

Comfortable silence fills the room. He stares at you, thoughts swirling behind those azure eyes, willing himself to speak.

Satoru pretends like he doesn’t notice your hand drifting down further.

“I found you first,” he mumbles, “And I found him first.”

“You did find me first,” you muse, “When nobody else wanted me, you did.”

Your grip on his shirt tightens briefly. 

“And now he’s drinking your blood and I can’t-”

“Oh, Satoru,” you say softly, “You don’t want to be left behind, do you?”

He doesn’t meet your eyes, but his silence conveys all you need to know. If Satoru could blush, his cheeks would be tinted a rosy color. You vowed before, to never let yourself feel as unwanted and lonely as you did in that relationship. And to never let anyone else feel that same loneliness.

His name is a honeyed whisper on your tongue that he wishes to pull from your pretty lips as often as he can. 

“I found you both first,” Satoru replies harshly before he presses his lips to yours, “Don’t ever forget that.”

Chaos bursts in his bright eyes before he closes them to kiss you, to pull your voice to the tip of your tongue. Your mouth is sweet, full of roses and tea. It’s no wonder Suguru is so taken with the taste of your rich blood. 

You fist his shirt as if you can’t get close enough to him with quickened breaths. Satoru can feel the rise and fall of your chest against his. Can you feel his weightlessness against you? 

Satoru pulls you into his lap easily, groaning into your mouth when you lazily rock your hips into his. You remind him that you’re with him in this magical forest, that he found you first. The universe brought you to him and he kisses you fiercely, to ground himself.

Despite your hands marking his shoulder blades and your legs tight around his narrow hips, Satoru feels far away. Impossible to touch as if there is a veil keeping you on the outside.

Does he know? It doesn’t matter- you’ll find your way through the fog to touch his soul with your gentle fingertips.

The castle contains newly appearing staircases and paintings that have surely been lost to something as feeble as time and history. It protects you from the raging storm outside, the storm that surely awaits you in your home. 

It protects you from dangers that you cannot see.

You shouldn’t be here. You really shouldn’t, but you can’t be blamed. Not when the endless shadows of the house- the castle- lead you here. Straight to the ornate door of what must be Suguru and Satoru’s bedroom.

Only a door shields you from them. Only a door shields them from you.

Quiet whispers are muffled beyond the door, both of their voices mixing together. Whispers flow into syrupy moans as you press your ear against the door to listen.

You shouldn’t be here, disrupting what is surely to be an intimate moment between two lovers that you are not privy to. But you want to be. You want to feel their breaths span across your back, hear their voices low in your ear, feel their sinewy limbs under your fingertips. 

It makes you shiver. To be velvet in between silver and gold. All you can do is press your ear closer, closer…

No, you shouldn’t. But they’re so close to you-

“I can hear you breathing from out there,” Suguru says dryly, loudly enough for you to hear through the door, “If you’re trying to conceal yourself, you’re not doing a very good job.”

Impatiently, you push the door open, mesmerized by Suguru on his knees in front of Satoru. He is seated on the bed, leaning back on his elbows with hazy eyes and his fingers tangled in Suguru’s hair. 

You inhale hungrily, unsure of where to look. Suguru chuckles at you and beckons you closer with a simple, heady look.

“Don’t just stand there,” he says, his voice strained as Satoru complains over the lack of attention on him, “Sit down.”

You barely breathe as Suguru strokes Satoru’s hardened, leaking cock with his massive hand. You wonder how that hand would look around Satoru’s neck- as if he can read your mind, his left hand wanders up the pale divots of his chest and to his neck. Resting there, holding Satoru in place as he squirms for Suguru to do something. Anything.

Suguru’s voice is low but clear, softly telling Satoru to stay still and be patient. His hips jump in time with Suguru’s lazy strokes. How torturous- how long has Suguru had his lover on his back like this, waiting for mercy?

It must have been for a long time, considering the trembling of Satoru’s body and how he silently begs for more.

He smears pre-cum over his cock before pushing Satoru’s legs wider apart. Looking over his shoulder to see if you’re watching his movements, only to smirk at you knowingly. Your cheeks are warm as you peer at him. At Satoru’s vulnerability.

Suguru must know everything about Satoru. Everything about what he likes, about how to dissolve him into a pleading mess of want. You want to learn. You want to please them both. You want to learn from them.

But you just watch, for now.

You rub your thighs together subconsciously when they both sigh in unison as Suguru bottoms out. Their breaths are heavy against each other, silenced when he kisses Satoru harshly in contrast to his slow, purposeful thrusts. The fondness, the love between them is palpable in the way they gaze at each other. As if you aren’t even there- as if they are the only two stars in the entire sky of the universe. It wouldn’t be fair to the scales of the universe for there to be two pairs of lovers like them.

You wish to be the exception. You will be the exception.

“Touch yourself,” Suguru grunts from the bed, looking at you over his shoulder. You make an attempt to crawl closer to him but he stops you abruptly. “No, you’ll stay there and you’ll touch yourself. Let us see you.”

Their hands are interlocked and desire washes over you in a tidal wave. He turns away to give his attention to Satoru but you lift the skirt of your robe up to your waist to give them both a full view of your wetness.

You clench around nothing, wishing desperately to take Suguru in your mouth or press your pussy to Satoru’s lips. Instead you rub your clit in time with Suguru’s thrusts, watching his hips roll. Satoru’s moans are loud and raspy, calls of his lover’s name, please, please, please, more…

“Watch her,” Suguru hisses, his hair in disarray as he shoves Satoru’s face towards you. You gasp when both of them watch you together, watching as you shove your finger deep into your pussy, the sound of squelching mixing together and bouncing off the walls. 

You’re quiet in your corner of the room, obediently waiting for Suguru to beckon you closer. For him to grant you a small touch, however fleeting. But he never does, and you are desperate for their attention. For an ounce of their shared love to drip onto your heated skin.

“O-ohhh-”

Your clit throbs as Satoru’s moans get louder and louder, breathier and breathier and Suguru is concentrated on how his cock pushes into Satoru effortlessly, how effortless it’s been for decades but it feels like a millenia- and if there is a god- this is the salvation he’d pray for-

He cums with a broken moan, his chest heaving but continues to push into Satoru as he murmurs sweet nothings to him. They both turn their eyes to you, you who is currently rubbing yourself furiously as if you’re racing against time. Your eyelids are hazy, clouded over with lust. You listen so well. You hadn’t even moved an inch from where Suguru had told you to stay.

“Come here, darling,” Suguru coos, “What a good girl. Do you want a kiss?”

You nod eagerly and all but crawl to him and sit in front of him on your knees, waiting patiently.

“Good girls get kisses,” he replies, “Come here, next to me.”

Satoru pushes back on Suguru, trying to fuck himself on his cock but to no avail. Suguru places a warning hand on his hip to stop him. He kisses you, a chaste peck. It’s not enough for you, but he gives you a meaningful glance. Telling you to listen to him.

You lean forward to give Satoru a kiss and before you can deepen it, Suguru tells you that’s enough.

“No touching,” he clicks his tongue, “Touch yourself while Satoru cums. Show him how much you like it when he cums, sweetheart. Doesn’t he look good like this?”

You nod vigorously with warmth pooling in your cheeks. Suguru’s hair is in disarray, long strands falling from his messily made bun onto his forehead. He moves gracefully, a painter with his paintbrush as he strokes against Satoru. He is Suguru’s canvas.

Your chest tightens at the stars barely concealed in his meteor eyes.

Satoru’s gaze is hooded and heady, concentrated only on the man hovering above him as his hair falls onto his skin. Your fingers are warm against your thighs, but you prefer the coldness of theirs.

Suguru pushes his angel hair away from his forehead and murmurs for him to sing for him. To sing for you. His moans rise in pitch with every stroke- you can’t stop the way you look longingly where they are connected. Each tense muscle in his body is soothed by the other’s gentle but firm touch. It’s a delicate dance, one that Suguru has barred you from partaking in.

Your fingers wander, languidly rubbing circles on your clit, entranced by the ripple of muscles and the sheen layer of sweat on skin. The connection of two lovers is a sight that you are blessed to witness. You want to drink them in, be drenched in their love for each other- for you.

“What a patient girl,” comes a silky voice from next to you, “Why don’t you let us have you now?”

Suguru laughs when you nod your head vigorously. Like an enthusiastic puppy wanting her owner’s attention. 

“I want you both,” you say impatiently, pawing at them both,“Together-”

“Let’s give the girl what she wants,” Satoru says, still catching his breath as he lays flat on the bed.

You are met only with hungry eyes and salacious smiles.

The moon hangs above for prolonged hours as the night begins earlier and earlier. It must be nearing the winter, you think. Frost clings to the air like stars in the sky, but you don’t mind it. Not when you’re there to keep both Satoru and Suguru warm.

Despite the winter fast approaching, you still hear the faint sound of rolling thunder.

“That’s enough,” Suguru murmurs, pulling away from your wrist gently as he licks drops of your sweet blood.

“Are you certain?” you ask, despite feeling a bit lightheaded.

“Yes, darling. You’d let me have you, wouldn’t you?” he coos, as if he is speaking to a newborn deer. Your lips part into a wide, bashful smile as you bat your eyelashes at him.

“My sweetest girl,” he says, pressing his lips to your jaw. You laugh airily at the sensation, pretending to push him back with a hand on his firm chest.

“I would give you all the blood you wanted,” you reply, “You only want my blood, right?”

“Is validation from me what you seek?” Suguru teases you.

Your voice is so full of hope, eyes shining with reverence as you wait for an answer. How far would you walk for him? Just to the edge of the universe? Would you fall over the precipice with him? Would you look over your shoulder before jumping if he told you to?

Judging by the way you shove your wrist in his face, he thinks he has his answer. Your skin is dotted with fading bite marks, some fresh and some old. You wear them with pride, uncaring if anyone sees. Not that there is anyone to see you, besides Gojo Satoru and himself.

The soft smile that uncurls on your face when Suguru’s eyes shift from a calm purple to charcoal and veins abruptly appear under his eyes as he feeds on you is enthralling. No feeling will equate to his soft whimpers as the first drop of your blood enters his circulatory system.

That’s all he is, anyway. A mess of blood and an undead heart thoughtlessly arranged together with frayed red strings in a puzzle where the pieces don’t fit. But somehow, you fit. You and Satoru both fit in different places.

No feeling, not even the memories of your formerly known lover, can make you feel as desired as Geto Suguru drinking your blood as if you are the last living, breathing thing on the planet.

Suguru gives you beautiful gowns and glittery jewels to adorn on your neck and your ears. All you need to give him is your blood and he’ll indulge you with his undivided attention.

“I desire you,” he mumbles, kissing your cupid’s bow, “Your mind,” a kiss to your forehead, “Your company,” a kiss to your palm, “Your body,” a kiss to your clothed chest, “Your soul,” a final lingering kiss to your bruised wrist.

“Oh,” you say sheepishly. Suguru can feel your lashes flutter against his cheek.

“Shall I prove it to you?”

He grins wolfishly, determined to indulge in every inch of you.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Satoru says with food in his mouth, “A cop came by earlier. He was asking about a certain abandoned car about two miles from here.”

Satoru’s eyes shift to you, piercing and intense but you don’t meet his gaze. 

“That’s so…interesting,” you mutter, “Who would come out this far and just dump their car? How weird…”

“Someone trying to leave something behind, maybe?” Suguru suggests knowingly, his eyes equally as piercing as Satoru’s.

You avoid both of their pointed gazes and take a long swig of red wine.

The silence suffocates you, but you don’t relent. They don’t need to know your secret, the one that you’ll carry with you until your dying breath. The real reason for your abrupt departure from your home, the perceived carelessness of throwing your car keys out in the mud on the forest floor for anyone to find. All for the simple hope of salvation in this sea of trees.

Instead of salvation, you’ve found eternal damnation with the immortal vampire Geto Suguru and ever living ghost Gojo Satoru. It’s still far better than the unfortunate alternative that awaited you in your former life.

You play with the emerald necklace seated at the base of your neck. A gift, of course, from the two ethereal beings sitting in front of you. Your lip nearly bleeds from how tightly you hold it between your teeth, debating whether you should tell them or not.

Not today.

“We need to know who is looking for you,” Satoru says firmly.

“Why? So you can hand me over to them all wrapped up in a bow? Or so that you can exile me from your home?” you challenge petulantly. Suguru narrows his eyes in your direction and you swear they flash an angry red. You try not to feel small in your seat and hold your head high.

“Don’t you dare imply that either of us would give you up so easily,” he all but hisses, “Do not insult me.”

“Besides, don’t you think we should know why the cops are knocking on our door asking about your abandoned car?” Satoru chimes in with a barely concealed smirk, “And how stupid do you think we are? To not know that that abandoned car was yours?”

Your eyes land on your hands in your lap and you sigh, the burden of your former life weighing heavily in your throat.

“You will banish me if I tell you,” you say, “I can’t handle it if you tell me to leave. There is nowhere for me to go.” Your words are sincere as you cave into yourself.

“Of course we wouldn't, sweetheart,” Satoru coos, coming around the table to sit next to you. He places a lithe, translucent finger under your chin and forces you to look at him. Uncertainty dances in your dark eyes but you’re unable to break the trance that he has placed you under.

“Maybe I’ll tell you later,” you mumble.

“How very mysterious of you,” Satoru teases you, patting your hair without a care in the world.

“We’re only asking so we can protect you if we need to,” Suguru offers. Heat blooms in your chest at his firm admission. Of course, they’d protect you. After all, this house is a lighthouse in the storm.

Today, you've forgotten to check if the rain continues to fall outside.

The garden behind this castle of a house is flourishing and colorful, filled with flowers and blooms that you have never seen before. A sea of reds, pinks, blues and greens bursts in your eyes. To think, you’ve never seen the garden before. In fact, when was the last time you stepped outside?

You have not seen the sun in days, weeks, months, perhaps. But you feel the warmth of the sun whenever you lay between Satoru and Suguru.

But the breeze is refreshing against your face as it threads through your hair.

You look over the treeline, at the tallest trees that seem to pierce the stormy, grey sky. The rain has not begun for the day yet, but you suspect it will soon. It’s heavy in the air, palpable against your skin. If you reach out into the empty space, you’re certain you could collect raindrops into your hands.

A shiver trembles down your spine as the frosty air whips your face. Perhaps the rain will turn to snow soon. You always did love the snow. The silence of a fresh, bright snowfall where everything is as still as the night

Despite the approaching winter chill, the flowers in the garden are flourishing as if it’s the middle of springtime. You never really appreciated the springtime flowers in the past. But maybe because you never noticed, never took the time to smell the roses.

The tiny pond centered in the garden is as motionless as the air that chokes you with silence. Lotus flowers float mindlessly from one side of the pond to the other. You’ve never seen so many lotuses in one place before. It’s beautiful and rather ominous.

Time does not move in this patch of the forest. You’re forced to stand still along with the magic of the house, the symphony of the storm. Is it the magic of the house, or is it the vampire and the ghost who live inside the house?

Does it matter?

You sigh heavily, picking at your cuticles as you lose yourself in your thoughts. Your coat is heavy around your shoulders. Are they watching you in the windows? Wondering why you’ve left them alone in the house, why you’re sitting outside all alone?

Will they come find you? What would it take for them to come crawling to you, begging for your attention? Perhaps a deep cut on your wrist with the sharpened end of the gate surrounding the backyard, a scrape of your knees-

A whoosh of air wraps around your face in a firm caress but it’s not the wind, it’s more warm and comforting. You feel something being placed gently into your hair- a red spider lily.

You hide your smile.

The breeze feels like the curl of lithe fingers around your cheek, invisible but heavy against your skin. You sense Satoru’s touch but you still play coy, pretending like you don’t notice him pawing at your clothes. 

You can’t see him, but you can feel him. His hands pushing the collar of your coat to lick up the column of your throat. Cold breaths against your ear as his teeth graze your earlobe.

It’s playful, teasing- you can nearly hear his laughter. Until it’s not anymore, and you find yourself on your back in the grass. Staring at the stormy sky, despite the column of sunlight illuminating you.

You wonder if Suguru is watching. You hope he is.

His hands are nimble, an out of body experience, as your blouse becomes unbuttoned and tossed to the side. With a shaky breath, you try to feel for him, wanting to touch his chest or press your lips to his-

But he doesn’t allow you to, only allowing you to be at his mercy as he holds your chest in his unseen hands. You look down in interest as your own flesh is kneaded by the concealed force that is Gojo Satoru. His touch is searing, heavenly and goosebumps rise on your neck as the pressure of his hips presses against yours. Your skirt is suddenly flipped upwards in a flurry of impatience as he pulls you closer to him. To close the gap between life and the afterlife-  to tip you towards the latter.

A moan parts through the veil and settles deep in your belly as warmth bursts. You are sensitive to the plush grass against your back, against your bare thighs- your skirt has been pulled off and you lay unclothed in the garden. Like izanami herself, you lay with only the elements to witness as the unearthly being on top of you parts your knees lewdly.

He stares at your wetness as your legs part open- after all, divine intervention sits at the apex of your thighs and he wants a taste. He wants to see the great light, or whatever comes next, in your eyes as his teeth brush against your inner thighs. Satoru tastes honey once he moves your hands aside. You can’t hide from him- you can’t hide from something you cannot see. He is hungry for you, hungry to devour you, hungry for you to give in fully to him. To be absolutely and fully open to him and bare your entire soul to the deepest, dead parts of him.

Your gasps are slight, barely heard breaths as he licks you with fervor. In between your legs is Satoru, grinding into the dewy grass in time with the rise and fall of your chest. You throw your head back when Satoru pushes two translucent fingers into you, your slick coating his skin.

You smell ravishing, the pulse of your heart a song in his ears. No wonder Suguru nearly drained you dead the other day.

Satoru groans when you wrap your legs around his hips. It’s not surprising that you intuitively know exactly where he starts and ends. To your eyes, you see nothing but open space in front of you. But you feel his distorted lines pinned against you, pushing you further into the earth.

He wants to savor the image of your parted lips and half-lidded eyes, the heat on your cheeks as he strokes himself and pushes into you. The noise that leaves your throat goes straight to his cock. Do you enjoy being full like this? Stuffed full of his cock and not being able to see it? See him?

“Faster, Satoru,” you mumble, looking straight at his six eyes, “Faster-oh!”

Careful what you ask for. He grins at you wildly, pushing his chest down to yours. He could spit into your mouth if he wanted, it would be so easy to let his spit slide into your wet, warm mouth. Your body jolts with every thrust, tightening as he rubs your clit and spreads your wetness sloppily.

A pearly sheen of sweat coats your sweet skin and if you could see him now, the wolfish look in his eyes would be shining in yours. He presses down against your bottom lip with a ghostly thumb, groaning when you whimper into the open air. It’s quickly silenced when he pushes his finger into your mouth harshly as surprise melts into heat in your eyes.

Satoru can feel Suguru’s eyes on you both, laid out in the grass. He wonders if you can, too.

The slope of your neck is enticing and he must sink his teeth into you. With a breathy gasp, you shudder and clench your walls around him as you cum abruptly. He grins crookedly at you, not that you can see it. You squeeze around him like a velvety vice. Your eyes are mischievous as you roll your hips against him. The rise and fall of your chest is tantalizing- his hand moves of its own volition to wrap around your neck loosely. 

As if you are a goddess with a chain to keep you tethered to the earth, to him, you look directly into his eyes and smile.

His hips stutter as he loses rhythm before he pushes into you and stills completely. Satoru whines your name brokenly in your ear before he cums loudly and triggers you to cum once more. You feel full and heavy, sated with the feeling of his thick, gooey cum pooling and mixing with your own wetness.

His eyes widen when you let your hand graze downwards to rub yourself. You taste him on your lips; tangy and sweet. Your smile is lewd, like you’re proud of yourself for seducing him in the open garden with your bare body and honey eyes.

Your skin glistens with the dewy grass that you have claimed to be your bed as the selective sun forms a patch around your head like a halo. In truth, Satoru feels unholy in the way he looks at you, thinks about you.

He drops his head low to kiss you once more, driven by the desire to paint you with himself. To paint brushstrokes of his devotion on every inch of your skin.

It’s so simple to give in to his kiss. To dive into him without worrying about how far the jump is or how far off the cliff you’ll go. You trust that he will catch you, even if you can’t see him. 

He is still unseen to you, but your hands are flat against his taut chest as you maneuver yourself on top of him. You throw your head back as you welcome him inside, your wetness coating him like a salve.

Your hips move of their own accord and Satoru lays back to let you take control of him. You lean down to kiss him but your lips hover. As if you want to say something.

This garden of Eden will hear your secrets and here they shall die, you decide.  Nothing seems so terrible with the way he fits inside you. You want to give him your mind, body, and soul.

And with this declaration you will. You rotate your hips, coming down on him gently at a slow pace before picking up again. His hands stay idle on your hips as you finally say something-

“I killed him,” you say softly, wrapping your arms around his neck.

You can’t hear him, and you don’t need to.

“My husband. We just…it fell apart!” you pant, bouncing faster, “what was a girl to do?”

“He never loved me! Never wanted me. Never paid attention to me,” you whisper, “so I killed him. And I ran away. I just wanted to be his one and only…”

“I killed him and you found me,” you sigh breathlessly, moving an arm away to rub your clit furiously. The words have never been said out loud and the secret that remains between you and him has you squeezing around him tightly. “I wish you had been there to see it, Satoru-“

He finishes loudly, without warning and you keep rolling your hips. He pushes your hand away to replace your fingers and rubs you until you finish with him.

You fall onto his invisible chest and sigh happily. He stays unseen, running a hand over your bare back and feeling the mix of your cum and his of you both leaking out of you and onto him. Your words are the words of a lover, confessions and shy smiles bursting at the seam of your lips and into his.

It must be alright, if a gentle spring breeze caresses your back.

Satoru looks at you in awe- how frightened you must have been when you had realized what you’d done. And through all of the strife and turmoil, you still came to him.

That must be divine intervention. After all, he only planned for you to be a momentary blood bag for his lover until your inevitable decay.

The openness of the house, the wall to wall windows, the way the breeze floats inside and coats the house in a gentle chill despite the ongoing storm outside, is comforting to you now. Rather than eerie as it was days ago. Days? Weeks? Months?

An invisible weight is lifted from your chest, one that you didn’t know even existed since you drove away in a frenzy on that cold, rainy night. The memories are almost too painful, but the newfound freedom tastes sweet on your tongue.

“Will you keep me waiting much longer, darling?” Suguru whispers, tracing your cheek with a long finger. You lean into his icy touch and he smiles at you.

Lifting the skirt of your midnight blue robe, he caresses your thigh and smacks it lightly. His grin widens when you yelp and laugh. Oh, he’ll have so much fun with you. What an excitable thing you are, completely defying any expectations he had of you only to enjoy your time in this castle.

A prison without a fence. He expects you won’t try to leave for a long, long time. Not when it took you all of the drama of a poor husband for you to leave in your prior life.

Yes, you are starting a new life, as you’ve indicated to him in the confines of his bedroom before. A new life with him and Satoru, one where you will be free. As free as the rain that falls from the sky.

Your soul is vulnerable, exposed for him to read whenever he desires. All Suguru sees is pure longing and fear. Fear that you will be abandoned once more.

It doesn’t matter. Suguru will make it so that your wishes are fulfilled forever. And once forever ends and you are nothing but an afterthought in his everlasting life, he will be sure to scatter your ashes in the lake by the house.

He will remember you fondly as the girl who killed to find a home in him. But ultimately, this story will not conclude with you in it. No matter how sweet your blood tastes or how you bat your eyelashes at him to get your way or how endearing he finds you as you list out trivial history facts from a time period he never lived in, not even how warm your pussy feels right after he cums inside you-

None of that matters, except for right now. Right now, when you reach for him with warm hands and look at him as if he is not a bloodthirsty creature, but as if he hung the moon in the sky.

“Make you wait? I’d never,” you reply with bright eyes, shifting against the cool sheets to press yourself closer to him. Your eyes flutter in pleasure when he pulls the knot of your robe loose from your waist. He pushes the robe to the side, leaving you open and exposed to him. Suguru purrs against your skin, the noise vibrating against your bare chest. He lifts his head as his eyes turn red and black veins form on his face.

He’s hungry.

Suguru lifts your wrist to his lips, pressing delicate kisses to the still bruised skin there. Most of the bruises have faded by now, anyway, with fresh ones blooming elsewhere. He remembers where each one is- your thighs, your chest, your neck… You don’t bother with covering them, not anymore. Not since you’ve fully accepted the castle in the forest as your home.

His tongue is gentle as he allows his fangs to elongate and brush against the skin of your wrist, like he is asking for permission. 

With a soft gasp, you feel his sharpened teeth pierce your skin as he messily drinks from your vein like a man starved. In truth, he has been starved over the last few decades. Starved of a sweetness like you.

In over one hundred years, he can only remember Satoru’s blood tasting so decadent. Filling him up with a sudden unquenched thirst. Suguru wants more of you- and you know it.

He lets go of your wrist, lapping any extra blood that angrily pours out of the small puncture wound with his tongue. With a comforting rub of your skin, he presses kisses down your torso, taking his time in enjoying how you squirm in his tight grasp. Your body moves in waves against his hold, moving with his push and pull.

The familiar pierce of his canines brushes against the fragile skin of your inner thigh, one of his favorite places to drink from. He says he can taste all of your feelings in that exact spot. Suguru doesn’t care about the guttural noises that rip from his throat as he drinks from you, careful to ensure that you don’t nearly faint from blood loss. Again.

Warmth blooms in your belly, uncurling like fairy wings to envelope you in comfort. But really, it’s Suguru’s touch, his mouth, how loved he makes you feel. He says he’s never had blood like yours before and you believe him. You push his head further with your free hand, encouraging him to take more from you.

But he pulls away, blood dripping from his teeth down his chin and onto his chest. You pull him on top of you for a sharp kiss, smearing your own blood on your lips. He tastes metallic with the taste of your blood down his throat. You want to devour him, to see how you taste in his eyes. You never want him to stop looking at you the way he does- as his prized possession, his favorite girl.

“There have been so many women,” Suguru coos, “Has Satoru told you? But you are the only one who stayed.” He drags lithe fingers over your chest, only to use his long nails to cut you. It’s not very deep, but you watch in wonder as ruby red blood blooms on your skin. 

He uses his thumb to paint your blood over your skin only to press his finger to your lips and wordlessly tell you to suck.

“You stayed because you love us,” he says in a honeyed voice, “Good girls should be rewarded for their loyalty.”

Suguru reaches over to his nightstand where he pulls out a silver dagger encrusted with jewels. You stare at him as he places it carefully into your hands. What does he want you to do with this?

It dawns on you when you look at the angry lines on your chest. You sit up on your haunches and smile at him, enamored that he entrusts you to this degree. 

You hold the dagger, trying to get comfortable with the feel of such a heavy metal in your hands. It’s a foreign weight, necessary for the foreign task that your lover has for you.

“Right here?” you ask quietly, your hand on his chest where you expect his heart would beat.

“Wherever you’d like, darling.”

With no hesitation, you allow the surface of the blade to pierce Suguru’s skin. Dark, burgundy droplets fall from the cut and trickle down his torso. With wide eyes, you look at him, asking him what to do. Instead, he laughs at you, curling a hand around your cheek.

“Is it not obvious?” 

He gathers the blood from the cut onto his finger and presses it to your lips once more. You swallow instantly with doe eyes- you will always take whatever he gives you. But you surprise him when you lean forward and press your lips to the blood on his torso and lick, whimpering with each swallow of his blood in your circulatory system.

“Come here, sweetheart,” Suguru says, petting your hair, “Good girl. Do you want more?”

With darkened lips and eager eyes, you nod vigorously. Wanting nothing more than to please him. He takes the dagger back from you and cuts a much deeper wound into his chest, wincing as he does so.

“There you go,” he says, throwing his head back when you latch onto him and drink his blood. It comes to you so easily. The urge to please.

Strangely enough, he tastes like ripened cherries. His moans are soft as you drink from him as you please. He owns you now, whether you realize it or not. Now that you’ve drunk his blood, he is a part of you now.

Until he decides otherwise.

In your new home, you have created the perfect life. You are cherished and desired, not needing to hide the ugly truths about yourself to Suguru and Satoru. You see them with rosy hearts in your eyes, convinced that they have accepted you the way that they have accepted each other.

You refuse to let any seeds of doubt fester. Will they tire of you, the way your husband did? Will they say that you’re too needy, too demanding of their attention?

The words are familiar in your mind but they look at you as if they are enthralled by you. No, you are a part of them as much as they are a part of you. You try your hardest to quell your rising, unfounded fears. It’s you, not them, you convince yourself. It’s you, not them.

Suguru and Satoru are already in the library, waiting for you to join them on the barely sat-in leather couch. 

You read your book in silence, the same three paragraphs burned into your eyelids. You can’t focus, not when the two men next to you try to vye for your attention. Despite their lips on your neck and their sweet, seductive words… There is a buzzing in your head that you can’t seem to shake away. It gnaws at you and gnaws at you, even as you succumb to their touches. Even as they drape themselves over you and pull sweet sounds from your throat.

Why don’t they look at you the way they did before? Are you imagining the look of disgust in Satoru’s eyes as he undresses you? Is the boredom on Suguru’s face an unfounded figment of your imagination? 

You are desperate for them, for them to bury themselves in you and build a home inside you. For them to keep you and never let you go. With a harsh kiss and bite to their lips, you seal your fate of your own accord.

In the thick of the frigid winter, the seasons change. It no longer downpours everyday- instead, snow covers the forest. Completely untouched and pure in a delicate, white blanket that cradles the earth.

The cold nips at your cheeks as you step outside the castle on the hill. You are dressed only in a thin black robe that rustles with the icy wind. With barren feet, you step into the snow. Hardly registering the way your blood cools with each step or how your teeth begin to shatter.

Despite the clean scent of snow in the air, you still catch the lingering scent of rain.

Loose deep red rose petals that you hold in your arms taint the pristine white snow as if they were drops of blood. The plant life still somehow thrives even in the wintry weather.

It is so quiet, with each step you take hardly making a sound. The world is still as you make your way over to the nearly frozen over darkened lake. It glitters with the pale sun, almost blinding you but you remain undeterred.

It is a chance for rebirth. Revenge. Or is it redemption?

You dip your foot in the lake first. Then, you close your eyes and surrender to the unknowing abyss with nothing more than a silent splash.

Melted snow coats the earth you walk on when your eyes open once more. It must be days later that you breathe the dry air and emerge from the depths of the lake, your robe soaking wet and sticking to your clammy skin.

But you do not feel the cold, nor do you need to breathe air. It’s a leftover reflex from the person you were not even a full week ago.

The door to the castle on the hill is the same as the first day you saw it. When you were running away from your old life. Here you are, embracing your new one. 

You knock on the door gently. Once, then twice.

You are met with wide, surprised celestial eyes. Only offering him a grin in return.

“What did you do?” Satoru hisses, yanking you inside by your forearm. He senses the difference in you already, the darkened energy coating your bloodstream. Your heart does not beat at all and your canines have become sharpened fangs in your mirthless smile. Your hands are cold when you paw at his chest. He’s used to cold hands, but yours are unforgiving. A threat when your nails nearly pierce through his skin. 

Most of all, blood stains your skin and your teeth when you smile widely at him. Some of it is fresh, still dripping down your neck and some of it is dried along the curve of your jaw and your chest. It reminds him of a lost, wounded wolf. It’s jarring, the sweet smile he is used to is sinister and unforgiving. 

It doesn’t suit you, and yet this is what you have chosen. Your laughter is grating in his finely tuned ears, reminiscent of a curse. Is that what this is? Is that what you have become? An immortal curse?

He ignores the trepidation crawling on his skin. Satoru can’t exactly slam the door in your face, can he?

“Come, lover. Let’s find Suguru,” you say with bright eyes, “We have much to catch up on.”

“You were supposed to be nothing but a blood bag for Suguru,” Satoru seethes, “Look what you’ve done-”

“No, please, I did this for you,” you wail, tugging on his shirt, “I want this forever. Don’t you want the same? You said you did!”  Doesn’t he see you? Doesn’t he see how much you crave him? 

“Enough,” comes Suguru’s voice from behind Satoru. He looks at you, running a thumb over the blood on your skin. Then at the silent, unmoving lake.

He closes his eyes for half a second and sighs, ignoring Satoru’s very purposeful glare at his head.

“I did it for you, Suguru,” you whimper, relaxing when he gathers you in his arms and strokes your hair. He says nothing, instead raising his eyes to meet Satoru’s. Two vampires in the same forest? A newborn vampire, at that?

Suguru is tempted to stake you for your naivete, but refrains from doing so. Sheer bloodlust is what got them into this mess, after all.

“We’ll figure it out,” he says into your hair, but he means for Satoru to hear it, “Don’t you worry about a thing.”

The sun sets in brushstrokes on the world, but not on you.

[runningfrom2am]

no drinks, no pools, no molly. (r.c)

summary: five times rafe cameron tried to ask you out, and the one time it worked.

this is an About Time!au (that's is my fave movie of all time and if you haven't seen it i highly recommend it if you like laughing and sobbing at the same time)

tags/warnings: you might cringe (a real warning), soft(ish)!rafe, def fanon!rafe, swearing? fluff! underage drinking

pairing: rafe x reader

wc: 4.6k (yikes)

recommended listening: about time theme, friday i'm in love

note: please please please if you haven't seen the movie at least give the theme a listen, while you read this or on its own but i promise it'll make your heart melt it's so adorable, i listened to it through most of the writing process and it made me want to cry sooo

Rafe Cameron has a flawless reputation. Tainted only by his better-than-thou attitude, as some perceive it- but always kind, always caring. Suspiciously so, to many, considering his semi-popularity, but that has never bothered him. He's a "stop and smell the roses" kind of guy, making him insufferable to some, but not to you.

It's not like you two are close friends, but he's had a seemingly hopeless crush on you for years at this point. He sees you almost every day at the country club in the summers, and lucky for him, you usually have two or sometimes three classes together at the academy on the mainland during the rest of the year. He thinks you're just about the most beautiful girl in the world- if he had to guess. The way the light reflects off your hair in the sun as you lay on a beach chair by the pool with a drink in your hand, making it look so soft and so shiny he's just dying to touch it, leaves him in awe every time.

After much encouragement from his sisters, he's decided it's time to act on this crush. After years, he still doesn't know if he can. Even if he has nothing to lose.

What everyone doesn't know about Rafe and his reputation, is that he has lived two lives. His dad told him when he was eighteen that by some miracle the men in his family could travel back in time, and his sisters could never know. All he had to do was simply stand in a dark, enclosed space and close his fists at his side- picturing the moment he wanted to go back to in his mind. Then, he would find himself there. He didn't believe it at first, believing his dad was pulling the wool over his eyes, but he tried it that night anyways- and was shocked to find himself in yesterday's clothes with his previous day's breakfast sitting on his desk waiting for him.

This changed everything, and he really never had anything to lose- but that didn't make the terrifying concept of talking to you any easier.

One:

"Go, Rafe! Go talk to her. Just be yourself." Sarah is pushing him in your direction and he stumbles a little on his feet, cheeks burning hot from nerves working in tandem with the heat of the hot summer day. He almost drops his drink, glaring at her over his shoulder as she waves for him to move, smiling excitedly. He supposes now is as good a time as any- you're alone, sitting next to the pool on a towel with a novel in your hands and a tequila sunrise at your side. He wonders if that's your favourite as he hesitantly walks up, repeatedly glancing back at his sister who's giving him an encouraging thumbs up.

"Hey, uh, Y/N?" Rafe says, clearing his throat as he stands over you, his shadow blocking the sunlight from your eyes as you lift your sunglasses.

"Hey, Rafe. How's it going?" You smile, settling your glasses in your hair.

"Oh, uh, pretty good," Rafe replies, and you nod with a smile, almost like you're waiting for him to continue. "Can I join you?" He asks, gesturing to the empty chair beside you.

"Of course!" You grin, patting the empty seat.

"Sweet, cool- thanks..." He says, mostly to himself as he steps around you and between the chairs, going to sit down when he stubs his toe on the leg of the reclined sun chair.

"Ow, shit!" He hisses, instantly recoiling and in the process, dumping his drink all over you.

You gasp, quickly sitting up and shaking off your book, hoping it's not too damaged along with your white swimsuit that is now stained red with the grenadine in his drink.

"Oh, oh god- I'm so sorry, Y/N, I-" Rafe panics, the pain in his foot suddenly gone as he looks you over.

"It's fine, Rafe. It happens." You chuckle a little, but he can tell you're not pleased as you desperately shake your book.

"Uh, here, I'm so sorry-" He says again, grabbing a towel from the table next to you to try and help dry you off, but realizes too late that your drink is balanced on the edge of it and he spills it, once again onto your lap.

You fly up out of your seat, jumping a little at the cold and brushing the ice cubes off your lap. Now your bathing suit and book are most definitely ruined and you groan at the thought of having to repurchase your favourite book, which you've read no less than seven times now. "Shit.." You mumble, more to yourself.

"God I'm so sorry, I just-" Rafe is absolutely humiliated, he doesn't even know what to say as his cheeks are red hot from having most definitely blown any shot he's ever had with you. He gets up and quickly takes off towards the clubhouse, running out of the situation as fast as possible. You watch him in confusion, laughing a little as he leaves you awkwardly standing by the pool with a newly tie-dyed bathing suit.

"Ouch..." Wheezie grumbles, sipping on her own drink as he watches Rafe run away.

"Where is he going?" Sarah says, wincing a little as she looks at you as well, giving you a quick awkward wave since your eyes landed on his sisters, hoping for any answers.

"No clue, but after that trainwreck, I'd be running too." Her sister answers with a slight laugh.

When Rafe gets inside, he slows to a quick-paced walk since he knows he's not allowed to run inside. He's got a firm destination in mind- the broom closet in the locker room.

Two:

Rafe is standing on the back porch at one of Kelce's parties, admiring the way you hold your drink with both hands as you stand by the pool with some of your friends, talking over the music. They scare him, sure, but not as much as you do. Even though he knows you're not a mean person, at the same time he has to acknowledge that they, your friends, will be his harshest critics if he tries to make any moves on you.

"Dude, just go talk to her, this is ridiculous at this point," Topper says to him, nudging his shoulder. "It's hard to watch, honestly. Just, here, take this- then go talk to her."

His friend is holding a shot glass up to him, holding some nondescript clear liquid. "Liquid courage, man, what's the worst that could happen?"

Rafe nods, trying to hype himself up. He glances over your way again, sighing to himself at how pretty you look. How pretty you always look. He swallows his pride and takes the shot, shivering at the bitter taste and handing the glass back to Topper as he wipes his mouth, coughing in the process.

"Okay, now, go ask her out, the worst she can say is no." His friend is encouraging, but Rafe isn't worried about what you'll say, so much as what he'll do to embarrass himself this time. He's lucky he's the only one who remembers the country club incident that happened just a week prior.

Rafe smiles nervously at his friend and adjusts the collar of his shirt, walking down the stairs of the porch and heading in your direction. He stops halfway and abandons his half-finished drink on the stairs. He's not risking that again.

"Hey." Rafe clears his throat as he walks up to you and your friends, but it seems that no one heard him over the music. "Uh, hey, guys." He says again, slightly louder this time and grabbing their attention.

"Rafe! Hi." You smile, seemingly excited to see him and you quickly give him a hug. He's shocked, but hugs you back. "How are you? I haven't seen you around this week!"

"Oh! Uh, yeah, I've been pretty busy." He lies, smiling at you nervously. He tries to relax as he takes in your intoxicated state, knowing you're having fun, and not taking much seriously.

"Sarah said you've just been locked up at Tannyhill all week." Your friend laughs a little, making him blush.

"I mean, yeah I wasn't feeling well. Had a bad cold." He pats himself on the back for the quick save, but that is cut short as you take a subtle step back, smiling at him awkwardly and shifting your body language after having just hugged him. Shit, he knows how anxious you are about getting sick. "I mean, not bad, I think it was probably allergies. Nothing contagious, I don't think." He scrambles to backtrack.

"Well, I'm glad you're feeling better." You say, carefully eyeing him up and down. God, now you must think he's gross. Great.

"Thanks." He smiles. "Uh, can I grab you another drink? I'm empty-handed; at Kelces parties that's a sin." Rafe chuckles, trying to change the subject as he notices your almost empty cup.

He's hoping to get you away from the watchful eye of your friends, and it seems to work as you smile and nod. "I'll be right back." You say to your friends, stepping back to squeeze past them as he joins your side. Now is his chance.

"So, uh, I was actually wondering if-"

"Rafe! Buddy!" He hears someone yelling at him excitedly, their tone getting louder as they approach quickly.

"Kelce, h-hey!" He says, just as his friend reaches his side, shoving into him as he suddenly comes to a stop at the edge of the pool. He wraps an arm around Rafe's shoulder and uses him to steady himself- but unfortunately, Rafe is the wrong person for this.

He stumbles back with the weight of another teenage boy against him, bumping into you and you lose your balance. "Oh, shit- Y/N, be careful." He laughs a little, turning to make sure you're okay, slamming his elbow into your side and pushing you into the water by accident. He didn't realize how close you were still standing to him.

Rafe freezes, his jaw-dropping as suddenly everyone in the vicinity is watching. "Oh, shit!" Kelce laughs, nudging Rafe again as he stands there slack-jawed. He looks briefly over to your friends who are crouched down at the edge of the pool now, shouting your name and ready to pull you out. You gasp as you come out of the water, frantically pushing your hair out of your face. Your makeup is ruined, and no doubt your hair as well. Rafe could tell you put time into how you would look tonight.

"Y/N! Oh god, I'm so sorry!" He says, finally snapping back to reality. He crouches down as well to try and help, but you look at him only briefly before swimming over to your friends.

"That's rough, bro." Kelce laughs quietly at Rafe, who's standing back up, defeated now. "Hope you weren't trying to hit that."

"Do you have a walk-in pantry?" Rafe quickly asks him.

Three:

No pool this time. That's for sure. They seem to be bad luck for Rafe, and this time, as he looks at the small gift bag he hid under the table of other gifts for you on your birthday, he knows he just has to get you alone to open it. Your friends were throwing you a big party at Molly's house, and invited everyone on your side of the island. It was big, after all, you were the kook princess- but Sarah seems next in line for the title.

It's proving to be difficult, though, since there are about fifty other kids here- and you're the star of the show. As always. This doesn't bother him, though, not at all. You deserve it, and he can't wait to be on the planning end of all your birthday parties for the rest of your lives.

"Y/N/N! Let's do presents, yeah? I can't wait for you to open mine." Molly smiles at her best friend, guiding her over to the firepit area next to the gift table. Rafe is all ears, confident with his hiding place as he makes his way over too, sitting a couple of seats down so you'd have room for your friends as well. Not everyone wanted to watch you open your gifts, that seemed like a childish thing, almost, so the party just continued around you.

"Rafe, how are you?" You asked him with a smile while your other friends sat down. "I'm glad you could make it."

"I'm good, yeah. Happy birthday, by the way." Rafe replies, fiddling with a stray thread on the hem of his shorts. "Thanks for inviting me."

"Of course! It wouldn't be a party without you." You giggle, about to speak again when Molly is thrusting a box in your lap, wrapped with pink paper and a glittery bow.

"Here, this one first- it's from Ava and Maya." She explains, even though you're already reading the attached tag. You nod, looking over to the two girls.

After about forty minutes of Rafe watching you open gift after gift, he's getting nervous. He didn't get you anything extravagant, only a small bracelet with a little note. He didn't want you to think he was crazy, or weird.

He looks over just as you help tuck away the last of the garbage into an empty bag, not wanting to leave a mess on your friend's lawn. He's sure that the whole time you were opening gifts, you didn't let a single piece of stray wrapping paper or tape hit the ground. You were so considerate.

"Hey, wait- Y/N/N, here's another one. I think this is it." Molly says, walking over and dropping the small bag into your hands.

No, no- god, you can't open this in front of so many people. Rafe's hands start to shake as he watches you helplessly, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees as you carefully pull out the small box. You smile softly as you turn it over in your hands, and maybe, Rafe thinks, it will be fine. Maybe you'll open it and then love it and read the card and nod at him with that beautiful smile he knows so well, and then he'll finally have his chance.

"Who's it from?" He's pulled quickly from his daydream as he watches you open the now unwrapped box, smiling wide and placing your hand over your chest. "That's beautiful, Y/N/N." Molly smiles, crouched next to her best friend as she stares over the delicate bracelet as well.

"It is..." You sigh softly, placing it back down gently in the box.

"Yeah, who is it from?" Molly asks again, taking the bag and digging out the card. Rafe wants to speak up but he can't, knowing that would incriminate himself further. He's frozen as she opens it, his hands getting clammy as she starts reading it out loud without scanning the intention of the letters first. 

"Dear Y/N." She smiles, confident as she continues reading and Rafe sinks back in his seat, pulling his shirt up to cover his nose. "Happy birthday to the most beautiful girl on the island. I wouldn't doubt it for a second if someone told me you were the most beautiful in all the world." She reads and you pout, blushing as you clutch your hands to your chest, all your friends going "aw" along with Molly, who's taken a pause in her reading to gush over how sweet that is. "Anyway, I'm hoping you'll let me take you out for dinner later this week, I'd really love to get to know you better." She continues, pausing a little before quietly reading off the final line. "Love always, Rafe..." She trails off, looking back over her shoulder at him.

Not everyone heard his name, but even her looking at him was enough to send everyone else watching the signal nonetheless. "Wait, Molls, why would you read that out, that was meant to be private, I think..." You whisper to her, guilt crossing your features as you look nervously between her and Rafe.

"Oh... oops." Molly replies, looking back at Rafe again apologetically. "Rafe, I'm sorry, I didn't know."

"It's fine, uh, yeah it's cool. I, Uh, I've got to- yeah..." Rafe says, getting up quickly and heading for the door of the house.

"Rafe! Wait!" You call after him, handing the box and the note back to your friend and getting up to follow him quickly. You get inside just as you hear the bathroom door close, sighing a little to yourself. You'll wait here for him to come out so you can talk, and this will give you time to think over the best way to apologize.

As the light flickers off in the bathroom, Rafe knows he can't face you after that, quick to clench his fists at his sides and think of that morning- wishing that the whole thing never happened.

Four:

"How much do you know about Y/N?" Rafe asks his friends, watching you tee off on the hole ahead of them. The way your tennis skirt matches your headband makes his head honestly spin, you're so intentional with every outfit you wear- he thinks it's adorable. No one on the island dresses as well as you, in his opinion.

"What do you mean, like, how she is in bed? You'd have to ask her ex." Kelce laughs, taking a sip of his beer.

"No, obviously not." Rafe blushes. "Like, what kind of guys does she even like?"

"Why, you gonna ask her out?" Kelce laughs a little, stopping as he sees that Rafe is serious. "Oh- I mean, her ex was a total douchebag, so that's a good place to start. Apparently, she likes assholes."

Rafe nods a little, watching you drive off in the golf cart with your friends. He knows that so far trying to be himself has had a zero percent success rate, so maybe it's time to try a different approach. He can be more of the guy he is when he's alone with his friends, emulating a much more masculine, fuckboy vibe. The worst that could happen has already happened, twice.

On the last hole, with a few more drinks of what Topper called "liquid courage", he flattens the creases out of his jeans and jogs up to catch up with you. "Hey, ladies- can I borrow Y/N for a sec?" He asks your friends, not waiting for a response before continuing. "Thanks- 'preciate it."

He strides up to you as you and your friends look between each other in confusion. This isn't the Rafe you normally know, who you've grown to have a crush on. You take a few steps away with him, but not enough to be out of earshot from your friends, they obviously know about your secret feelings for the boy, and would love to listen in.

"Hey, so, uh," He stammers a little, quickly trying to get back on track with his attitude. But the way you're looking at him with your big, beautiful eyes as you smile at him expectantly, nervously almost, is throwing him off. He's never been this confident around you. "My friend really likes you, but I told him I'd ask you out first to see if you're worth it." He smirks, shifting his weight on his feet.

Your face falls- and you look hurt. He feels a pang in his chest. He did this to you, maybe Kelce's advice was bad after all. Your friends gasp, obviously hearing everything. "That is the rudest thing I have ever heard!" Your best friend, Molly, yells at him, quickly stomping over to you while you try and figure out what to say.

"Is this some sick prank?" Molly says, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and looking at you closely as you can't fight back the tears.

"I- wait, wait, no! I- I'm sorry I just-" Rafe tries to defend, shaking his head quickly and holding his hands up to the two of you.

"Get out of here, you prick!" She says, accentuating her desires by throwing her drink in his face.

Rafe wipes the drink out of his eyes, turning quickly and making a break for his friends. He can't save this situation now- he just had to escape.

"That was unbelievable!" Your other friend says as you get back to the golf cart, sitting down and wiping your tears.

"What a fucking loser." Molly adds, shaking her head as she watches him run away.

Rafe is met with his friends laughing hysterically at him, taking in the sight of his soaked polo shirt up close. "Dude- what did you say to her?" Topper laughs and Rafe grumbles as he sits in the cart, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Let's just go back to the club." He mutters, that same broom closet calling his name yet again.

Five:

No drinks, no pools, and now, no Molly. Rafe figures his best move at this time is to just text you. He doesn't have your number, not yet, but he does have your Instagram- and the DM feature seems like his most viable option, at this point.

rafecameron: hey, how are you?

yourinstagram: i'm good!! how are you?

Rafe is surprised he gets a response back so quickly, sitting up straighter at the kitchen island, where he's sitting eating his lunch.

rafecameron: i'm good. enjoying the summer so far. the weather has been perfect for wakeboarding.

God, the weather? Could he bring up anything more boring? He scolds himself mentally as he sees that she's typing, his leg bouncing a mile a minute on the stool he's sitting cross-legged on, his bowl of cereal left forgotten in front of him.

yourinstagram: that's awesome :) i haven't got much surfing or wakeboarding in this summer yet unfortunately, just haven't thought about it much i guess

At least she's trying to make small talk, Rafe assumes that's a good sign. It's perfect, actually- he can offer to take you out boating, especially if you haven't had the chance yet.

rafecameron: i have the boat tomorrow if you're free? we could grab drinks or something at the club after

Rafe sends the message and quickly places his phone upside down on the counter, but he can't resist lifting it again as soon as his phone buzzes.

He furrows his brow as he's seen you sent a photo. He opens the text thread, blood draining from his face when he sees the screenshot of this exact conversation pop up along with a message.

yourinstagram: *photo* yourinstagram: OH MY GOD MOLLS- I THINK RAFE IS ASKING ME OUT???

Clearly, that wasn't meant for him- but that doesn't make it any easier to read. He has to assume that's a bad thing- that you're trying to figure out, with the help of your best friend, how to let him down easily.

Rafe groans and tosses his phone back onto the counter, leaving it to go up into his windowless walk-in closet and take back that he texted you at all.

Six:

At the annual bonfire, Rafe is just wandering around looking for someone to talk to. His friends are busy throwing random things into the flames, seeing how high they could make the fire go. He lost interest very quickly. He's feeling down on his luck, after his five poor attempts at getting a date with you, even if no one else knows about any of them- not even you. Its embarrassment not fading, despite the summer passing quickly. Maybe it just wasn't meant to be, everything happens for a reason, surely. That doesn't mean he wouldn't really like a chance.

He's standing at the keg, pouring himself another beer when he sees you. You're off, a little in the distance all alone, walking along the shore and occasionally crouching down. He's confused for a moment as to what you're doing, but then he realizes- you're collecting seashells. Of course you are. It makes him smile a little to himself. Everyone around him is so concerned about getting drunk, high, whatever their vice is- but you just want to do your own thing.

He hands his cup off to a kid standing nearby who gratefully takes it, and starts his way down the sand to join you.

"Finding anything good?" He asks as he approaches you.

You're quick to stand up, turning to face him. "Oh, Rafe! Hey." You smile, looking down at your now long empty solo cup, filled almost to the brim with small seashells and pretty rocks. "Yeah, here." You hold out the one you just picked up, dropping it gently into his hand.

He cups the small shell in his hand and smiles, looking up at you again. "It's beautiful." He agrees. "Can I help?"

"Sure." You smile, nodding as you look up at him. The light from the distant bonfire falls right behind him, shining through his hair and his unbuttoned striped shirt. "I don't have a lot of room left, though." You show him the cup.

"Well, you're probably better at finding them than me. I can hardly see anything." Rafe chuckles, shrugging a little as the two of you continue down the beach, the music getting more and more quiet with every ten steps. You can only really hear the waves crashing beside you, despite the water being mostly calm.

You're both silent for a minute or two, scanning the ground for more shells. Rafe's mind is running a million miles a minute. Now's his shot, he's doing better than before- he hasn't offended you, spilled a drink on you, or pushed you into the ocean, everything is calm and there's no one around. Maybe he should make small talk first, bring it up later if you still want to talk to him by the end of the night.

"How's your-"

"So, I-"

You both start talking at the same time, making you both laugh. You count yourself lucky that he can't see how red your face is.

"You go first." Rafe insists, ready to listen to whatever you have to say. He could listen to you talk about anything, for hours; he's sure of it. He could never tire of the sound of your voice.

"Okay, well," You giggle, looking down and picking up a shell you catch a glimpse of in the moonlight. "I was going to ask if maybe you wanted to hang out sometime. Go for coffee, or something like that."

Rafe stops walking, staring at you and fighting back smiling like a crazy person. You wanted to hang out with him? After all this time, after all the energy he's put into trying to ask you out, you would have said yes this whole time?

"Like... like a date?" He asks, mentally slapping his hand against his forehead and trying to remember where the nearest bathroom or closet might be.

"Yeah, I mean, if you want." You reply, turning to face him fully.

He looks over your features as you smile at him, how the ocean breeze has pushed your hair over one shoulder and how a few shorter strands fly around your face. He nods, mouth dry as he tries to find the words. "Yeah, yeah I would love that." He agrees. "I, uh, I was actually going to ask you the same thing." He says, looking down as he kicks away some sand.

"You were?" You giggle. God, the sound of your laugh alone makes his heart beat faster.

"I only tried about five times over the course of the summer, could never make it to actually talking to you, though." Rafe admits, laughing slightly.

"Why not? I don't scare you, do I?" You laugh, tilting your head at him and brushing some hair away from where it's gotten stuck to your lips in the wind.

"Not anymore." Rafe grins, continuing to talk past you and you turn with him, joining his side again as he turns the seashell you have him over in his palm. This time, he wants to relive this night for all the right reasons.

taglist: @bookishbabyyyyy @madelynie, @mutual-mendes, @slut4drudy, @winterrrnight, @totalswag, @sadfury @fullfledgedemo @rafemotherfuckingcameron, @urfaveluvr, @chenslucy, @hxnnah-397, @s-we-e-t-t-ea, @tahliac11, @ragingsammie, @ietss

[caramel1mochi]

VYSE X READER VYSE X READER PLLSSSS VYSE X READER

SOBBING PLS MAKE THIS HAPPEN

Thanks for the request! Sorry for the wait, I swear I couldn't come up with anything until I saw the holiday ads. I don't know what we're celebrating but I've gobbled up 3 Grinch cakes already. Anyway hope it's to your liking!

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Bewitching [ Vyse x F! Reader ]

Words: 1k+

Please don't copy or steal my work and pass it off as your own! If you'd like to use one of my headcanons or something, I'd love it if you tagged or asked.‎ ‎‎ ‎  

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。+❤ฺ·。❤ฺ·。+❤ฺ· +❤·。❤ฺ·。+❤ฺ·

This is a horrible idea.

This is a horrible idea.

This is a horrible idea.

These were the only words that ran through your mind during the entire festival. And with each note strung on an instrument, each move carried out by a dancer, they not only continued lingering in your brain, in fact, they were getting louder. The urge to rip off all of your fancy clothes and call everything off became overwhelming, but you knew your girlfriend wouldn't stand for it.

You picked at your fingers as you stared at your reflection in the pond in front of you. The pond was meant to be magical. But now? It only felt like another thing that mocked you for accepting this invitation.

With a huff, you stood up and turned to your girlfriend.

"Vyse, are you sure we should keep going?"

She wasn't looking at you. Instead, she watched the bustling crowd in the distance, the festival you two had to abandon just so you could gather your thoughts. The music was muffled from here. Compared to the array of colourful lights, the waters you were near was dim and hardly lit up by the moon above, but her tall frame stood out amongst the darkness.

Then, she spoke.

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"What do you mean?"

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"You know what I− this entire date is a mistake. We never should've left the base!"

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You hastily explained as you walked towards her, lifting your colourful dress to avoid stepping on the expensive fabric. You knew she was feigning ignorance just by that exaggerated tone she always took on.

She turned around to glance at you, the yellow glow from those slits piercing your eyes with ease.

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"And why not, Y/N? Are you afraid of a few people's eyes on us?"

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"It's not us I'm worried about, it's you! People are staring at you!"

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To you, she looked stunning, even when you never saw a smidgen of her features. Not her face, skin, nothing. You found the beauty in the metal that encased her skin, its reflective surface scattering the light in an array of colours and letting it all swirl in an alluring dance.

But she looked like a complete monster to the rest. You could tell by the pure horror on their faces when you entered earlier, how wide their eyes had gotten upon spotting her.

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"And that should that warrant my attention because...?"

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You sighed.

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"Look at Kay/O — his appearance draws attention like yours. He doesn't ever leave the base, and I−"

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You yelped once a vine wrapped around your waist. Within a split second, you were shoved towards Vyse, her hands gripping your shoulders the moment you landed against her torso. The adrenaline rendered you unable to protest against what she just did.

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"Kay/O's cowardly decisions are his own, Y/N." A hand slithered around your waist, further trapping you. "If I'm unconcerned with how I'm perceived, why should you be?"

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"At least show your face. Just this once? Please?"

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Her 'ears' rose upright at this plea, and Vyse couldn't help but observe your soft features in silence. For a moment, despite her unreadable expression, you believed that she would listen; that she would finally take the thing off and let this only public date between you two go smoothly.

She caressed your cheek with two metal-encased fingers, the cold sensation brushing against your skin.

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"Y/N, it's a privilege to admire me. If it gets too bothersome, then I'll strip them of it. Simple."

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Her hands shifted downwards until her fingers intertwined with yours, embracing your warmth with the tender hold. Then, she took a step back, bringing you alongside her.

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"Now, let's go before we miss the festival."

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You were pretty much forced to follow her given her strength. Besides, who were you to deny her this opportunity after imprisonment at the Scions of Hourglass? But again, you were so still preoccupied with the staring. It felt like a spotlight shining upon you two, and you weren't doing anything beyond... attending the festival. It felt so shameful.

And you were proven right the moment you made your way among the people.

The crowds' stares preceded the entertainment that surrounded you. The extravagant decorations, stunning dances and intricate displays of artwork seemed insignificant next to your girlfriend, her mere presence dragging all eyes towards her with relative ease.

But it didn't seem to bother her. In fact, she kept the light conversation between you two alive, observing the exhibits in the process. However, you couldn't really focus no matter how much you tried. The staring was just too distracting.

Then, Vyse stopped.

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"Look at this little display."

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Following her gaze, you were drawn to a nearby gathering just next to you.

Amongst the foliage sat a stage where a band played an enchanting albeit loud tune. And if that wasn't impressive enough, there were also dancers positioned in front of them, each donning a bright fabric that swayed behind them as they moved.

Vyse was right, this was worth both of your time.

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"This feels less dismal then the rest."

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You hummed with a smile.

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"Let's check it out."

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She accompanied you as you marched between the tables to find one suitable and empty. Which, luckily, didn't take too long. You picked out a table near the front and the two of you sat down. There, you were finally given the chance to enjoy the show in peace. And surprisingly, you did.

It felt like nobody stared at you. You glanced at the people who sat next to you out of the corner of your eye, but you couldn't find a single person ogling. They were all enjoying the dance just as much as you and Vyse did.

For a moment, you were highly pleased by this. And you thought that maybe, it wasn't that Vyse just looked captivating, it was just that the festival wasn't interesting enough to keep the rest occupi−

Your eyes widened at the sound of a camera shutter next you.

But just as you went to look at the culprit, portions of the ground ripped apart once vines emerged from them. While some surrounded you, most of them encircled a certain table... next to you, too. Vyse had left her seat by the time you realised what was going on. And quickly, you stood up to look for your girlfriend, only to find her marching towards one of the tables where a different couple sat.

The man's phone was on the ground, a picture of Vyse on the screen, and their chairs were surrounded by razor-sharp vines adorned with thorns. They were trapped.

Vyse loomed over them.

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"Looks like you have a death-wish." The vines' grip around the chairs tightened. "Shall I make it so?"

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You approached and held her hand, attempting to pull her back towards you.

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"Sweetie, don't hurt them."

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Your words didn't sway her. In fact, it worsened the panic in the couple given that you unwittingly confirmed that Vyse meant her threat.

The man shakily mumbled something under his breath. Given that it was inaudible to either of you, Vyse stepped closer and stooped over to level their gazes.

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"I didn't quite catch that. Do me a favour and repeat yourself."

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"S− sorry, I'm− I'm sorry about that, madam..."

ㅤ

Vyse hummed at his pitiful stammering. She stood upright once more, throwing them one final glare before deeming his apology 'acceptable'. And luckily for them, the vines disappeared back into the ground.

But just as the couple thought it was finally over, she crossed her fingers, and with an audible crack, his phone was ripped into many pieces; any hope of it being repaired immediately went down the drain.

ㅤ

"Oh, I'm so sorry."

ㅤ

"Vyse!"

ㅤ

Vyse waved you off in the midst of her malevolent giggling.

ㅤ

"Lighten up; that could've been him." She promptly began moving, ignoring their panicked exchange at that comment. "Come along, Y/N."

ㅤ

The music drowned out their words of terror as you two walked off. Her hand now around your waist, she accompanied you back to the table you sat on to enjoy the show once more.

And so, the date continued like nothing happened.

But for some reason, the stares stopped, and nobody seemed to have the heart to even throw either of you a glance the whole time. And it was... great. You finally felt at ease. You couldn't help but smile merrily as you observed the festival with a newfound sense of peace.

[arachnixe]

Permanent

The witch who planned so hard to achieve immortality did not plan for the end of the world.

Her magic—the magic of permanence—proved itself more durable in the end than the clockwork of life itself.

Small consolation, she felt, bound forever to her own buried bones.

It was something of a surprise when her millenia of silent rumination about her own life were interrupted by a shifting of dirt and rubble.

Her eyes had long since rotted away, but senses beyond sight alerted her to the impossible touch of sunlight on her remains.

Her mind stirred. She shifted from her reverie to contemplation of the outside world again. With great effort, she cast awareness outward to bring her surroundings into focus and perceive the cause of this unexpected shift in circumstance.

She felt no life. But not nothing.

A small figure stood over the dead witch’s body, scrutinizing her in silence. A painted face that should have been bleached to nothing from years of sun stared at her bones. Limbs which should have seized up and rotted were covered in dirt from its labors.

She knew this doll.

A distant memory surfaced, summoned by that unforgettable face. Years of toil on this one culminating in failure. Early experiments in imbuing a form with permanence which disappointingly ruined a perfectly good doll. It was discarded with the other unsalvageable mistakes.

It should not have been moving at all. It should not have known where to find her. It should not have survived the ages with its body intact in a way her own was not.

It was unmistakably standing before her, having dug through the ruined remains of her tomb to find her.

“You are still here, aren’t you?” the doll asked at last. “None of the others are. You’re just a skeleton, but I can tell you're inside.”

It approached, limbs creaking slightly until it could touch her ribcage for confirmation with a dirt-covered hand.

The witch no longer possessed a voice with which to speak, but the doll answered for her anyway.

“Yes! Thank you for saving me! You’re the best doll I ever had, and I’m sorry I forgot that when I left you behind!”

“Oh, you’re very welcome, Miss. Let’s get you out of here.”

It should have been humiliating to be spoken for in such a way, but there was such wonderful novelty in hearing someone else speak at all after so long.

Her spirit was still too weak to reach out and make her own true words known, which did not faze the doll in the slightest.

“Be careful with my skeleton, Dolly. I’m very old and fragile!”

“Yes, Miss. I’m being super extra careful, see?”

It scooped up the skeleton with feather-touch gentleness and—careful not to hit her skull on any rubble—picked its way out of the hole back to the surface.

“You’re my only friend left, Miss, and I don’t want to accidentally hurt you like I did the others,” the doll continued. “I think all that napping made me real strong like you and now I gotta be extra gentle so I don’t hurt anyone any more.”

“You’re doing so good, Dolly.”

Come to think of it, the witch didn’t think she’d ever given such praise to her dolls before. Correct behavior was to be expected of them, after all. What strange side effects had her experiments on this one had on it?

What strength did it think it had?

The doll continued to converse with itself, speaking on the witch’s behalf in a way the witch never would have on her own. It propped her bones up against some surface rubble in a mockery of a sitting position and continued chatting away with barely contained delight.

It was nice, actually. Even when the doll put words in her mouth that she never would have spoken.

“You’re so good at stories, Dolly!”

“Thank you, Miss! I’ve been practicing!”

“You’re so pretty, Dolly!”

“Thank you, Miss! You made me this way!”

The happiness she felt from “her” words pleasing the doll was completely unfamiliar. She had been so much lonelier than she had let herself believe, and she found herself content to be in the company of such a chatterbox and pleased that the comfort it offered was mutual.

The world on the surface was so empty. The landscape was barren. Even the night sky had somehow died and become featureless.

But the witch’s heart was warmed by Dolly’s endless imagination and friendly conversation. She had come to think of the doll as a genuine friend too.

When Dolly held her bones and slept, the witch wished she could hold her back.

The first time Dolly whispered, “I love you, Miss,” the witch’s thoughts responded in unison with her doll’s narration, “I love you too, Dolly.”

[rainbowsky]

skyflowersmountainssea asked: Hi Rainbowsky, I find your posts really insightful. I enjoy reading them. I came across YiZhan in march and have been reading about them. I found many similarities in YiZhan and [redacted].

Hi skyflowersmountainssea. Thanks so much for your kind words. I'm glad you're enjoying my blog! ☺️

Sorry I don't discuss other CP on my blog. I don't follow any, I don't have in interest in any, I don't examine any, and therefore I can't really speak intelligently about them. The once or twice that I've ever commented on such things has shown me it was a mistake. It's an excellent way to get a lot of people arguing and yelling at each other about something I know very little about.

It's also a great way to become a target for haters and people who perceive themselves as rivals. No thanks.

I'm also just inherently disinterested in comparisons. Every situation is different, and the only thing that tends to come out of comparisons is arguing and negative discourse. If it makes you happy to compare, please continue to do so, but on my blog that's just not a thing I'm interested in participating in.

All that aside, in my mind and in the mind of a lot of turtles, GG and DD aren't really a CP - they're an actual couple. Not because we ship them so hard that we start to believe our own hype, but because there's a lot of solid evidence that they're together. There's something - for me, anyway - that feels a bit dehumanizing about treating them as a CP and discussing them in those terms.

[autisticandroids]

watched 1x14 nightmare today. so there's this moment in that ep that everybody talks about, at the end. this one:

SAM: Well I'll tell you one thing. We're lucky we had Dad. DEAN: (Looking astounded...and pleased) Well I never thought I'd hear you say that. SAM: Well, it coulda gone a whole other way after Mom. I little more tequila and a little less demon hunting and we woulda had Max's childhood. All things considered, we turned out ok. Thanks to him. DEAN: (Turning back to look at Max's house) All things considered.

it's a moment people pay a lot of attention to. because the thing is... dean's face falls, here. he's clearly put off by what sam's saying. he's bothered. and the common reading of that is that there was some degree of abuse more like max's that sam never saw. and that's like. that's DEFINITELY a legible reading of this episode.

however! i actually think this is a place where paying attention to authorial intent leads you interesting places.

so, first of all, what was the overall thesis of nightmare? i would argue that it's sam needs to stop being a pussy and whining about his childhood, some people have real problems. that's why the abuse max experiences is so cartoonishly bad, why the final conclusion is that max will always be miserable and is better off dead, why sam walks out of this experience more willing to empathize with john: the point of nightmare is that sam needs to learn that he could have had it way worse, that in fact growing up a hunter was the best option.

sam and max have a conversation in the middle of the episode that cements this point:

MAX: He blamed me for everything. For his job, for his life, for my Mom's death. SAM: Why would he blame you for your Mom's death? MAX: Because she died in my nursery, while I was asleep in my crib. As if that makes it my fault. SAM: (Looking shocked) She died in your nursery? MAX: There was a fire. And he'd get drunk and babble on like she died in some insane way. He said that she burned up. Pinned to the ceiling!

the point being made here is that sam is lucky. both mary and max's mother died in insane ways. john responded to this by accepting the insanity and getting obsessed with hunting demons. max's dad falls deeper into drink and blames max instead. this is the way to present the miserable demon hunting child soldier lifestyle as the better option.

(it's also useful to talk about how john was probably not intended to be perceived as an abusive father (though of course he obviously is, the writers just don't think anything that isn't what max went through counts as abuse); @restlesshush has a point she likes to make about how no one bothered to tell jdm that john's relationship with salmondean is fraught so he just doesn't play it that way.)

so now that we've established the overall point of nightmare, let's get back to the original point. now, i specifically want to talk about what i think the intent of the text is.

now, the basic formula of supernatural season one is that sam and dean get in an argument at the start of the episode, usually about their father, and it continues throughout. and when one of them fails to argue back, the other notices. look at this moment from 1x11 scarecrow:

DEAN: Sam. You were right. You gotta do your own thing. You gotta live your own life. SAM: Are you serious? DEAN: You’ve always known what you want. And you go after it. You stand up to Dad. And you always have. Hell, I wish I—anyway….I admire that about you. I’m proud of you, Sammy. SAM: I don’t even know what to say.

dean fails to fulfill his narrative role, and sam notices. this is the same kind of things as when for example dean becomes more and more obsessed with clinging to sam because he has to in order to maintain the format of the show (i.e. two brothers). character flows from format, instead of the other way 'round.

and here, in nightmare, dean is unsettled by sam's change of heart, mostly because it breaks format, but also because, due to the format, sam (at least in dean's perception) has the character trait of "dad-critical" and it unnerves dean when this changes. that is i think as far as we can definitively say authorial intent goes. nightmare is a sam episode, so any deeper meaning is probably imo between jensen ackles and the fans.

but, if you'll permit me to go a little deeper than authorial intent while still using it as a baseline. here, in nightmare, the tendency to notice sam failing to fulfill his role becomes a lot more interesting. look at that scarecrow quote:

DEAN: You’ve always known what you want. And you go after it. You stand up to Dad. And you always have. Hell, I wish I—anyway….I admire that about you. I’m proud of you, Sammy.

dean's disquiet when sam fails to fulfill his role as john-critic is both intriguing and unsettling. it's layered. dean isn't just reacting to sam not following the script. he needs someone to play the role of john critic in his life, because he can't do it. he is, consciously or unconsciously, relying on sam to do it for him. and that's why he makes that face outside the millers' house.

[starilicious]

mere haath mein (echo x gn!reader)

》 summary: reader and echo's love story from strangers to friends to lovers throughout the clone wars (a 4+1 type of story)

》 series masterlist: (please read the masterlist before continuing on!)

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 4.5.1 | part 4.5.2 | part +1 📍 (you are here!)

click here to read on AO3

》 part +1 word count: ~2.2k

》 part +1 warnings: none

》 part +1 spoilers: none

》 a/n: this is it! thank you to everyone who read this story ^_^ this fic started out purely self-indulgent bc i am an echo girlie at heart, but i hope you all enjoyed reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it. this scene is what inspired me writing all the previous parts and is therefore the longest part (because i still cannot believe people write off the clones like objects instead of people with emotions and hopes and fears :( ) please do let me know your thoughts on this fic and if you could like to see any additional parts in this series! enjoy this last chapter :DD

+१ (+1)

At first, it’s the little things. How sometimes he can’t tear open a meal packet easily, or how he takes longer to put on his armor. How he adjusts his grip on his blaster, or he types up reports slower on his datapad.

Of course, Echo never complains. It’s not in his nature to, especially not while you’re at war, and there are arguably bigger and worse things to worry about.

But you notice anyway.

It takes a month or two for you to realize his struggles. Even though you officially transferred to Clone Force 99, you still mainly work with the 501st and other legions thanks to Tech’s precise expertise. His knowledge combined with his training as a soldier and experience in the field meant you rarely accompanied them on missions. So you put your skills to work elsewhere, not wanting to remain idle.

You would come back to the Kamino barracks you shared with the boys only a few days a week at most. Long trips just to get back to the squad wasn’t exactly a good use of the Republic’s dwindling resources, so you make do with the time you have.

It’s not until you request to have your office transferred to Kamino do you observe Echo’s constant conflict with being one-handed. The extra time on your hands allows you to be with Clone Force 99 more often, giving you time to get to know them and how they work together.

Echo is so incredibly subtle about his pain, his exhaustion, and the numerous issues with his scomp link that it’s really only because of your engineering training that you detect the problem. At this point, your mind unconsciously latches onto anything that you perceive as a potential source of trouble. You’ve practically hardwired your brain to find anything and everything that could be a complication, no matter how small.

And you would be damned if you couldn’t fix this one.

So you shove all your impending datapad reports aside and pull up your CAD software and, with a little hacking, Echo’s medical records on your monitors. (You doubt any of the higher-ups will care anyway). You crack open your old notes from university, poring over them and Echo’s reports, scrutinizing every detail and writing down notes in your precious engineering notebook.

Frankly, you are livid over the fact that the Kaminoans or the Republic didn't give Echo a prosthetic to make his life easier. He's an ARC trooper for Maker's sake, constantly going on missions deemed too dangerous for any regular clone. Doesn't that warrant at least a little respect?

You don't dignify that question with a response, already knowing the answer to it. It pisses you off how little they care, how clones are viewed as expendable, how they're nothing more than sentient droids. Even someone at as high of a rank as Echo is still written off even though he has sacrificed everything for the Republic.

For the next week or so, you work in earnest, staying up late nights and waking up at early hours to continue working as you regain the knowledge you temporarily lost while working as an astroengineer. As cool as starships are, nothing can compare to the satisfaction of completing a project that changes someone’s life–it’s why you wanted to be a biomedical engineer in the first place.

Not to mention your constant rage acting as fuel to keep going with the project and refuse to stop.

You build prototype after prototype, constantly adjusting and readjusting your designs, scrapping ideas and thinking of new ones. It’s an arduous process, especially for a challenge you have never faced before, but you put in everything you have to give because this is for Echo.

And Echo is worth it.

You meticulously note down every flaw and success, wanting to have something to look back on for future iterations--after all, there are always more ways to improve.

There are times where Echo is close to figuring out your surprise for him, often walking in while you're mentally elbow deep in your designs, the exploded-view of the parts up on your monitor as you solder together the 3D-printed parts. You luckily throw a cover over the prototype and switch to a different project right before he sees. He glances at you in surprise, but decides not to push, much to your relief.

The worst (and, arguably, best) part is when Echo worries about you, concerned about your lack of sleep and how you practically live in your office makerspace. You come into the barracks long after Echo is asleep and leave long before he's awake. And there are nights where you just don't come in at all, often having too much work to finish because of how much time and effort your job demands of you. Echo does what he can, dropping off meals whenever he's able and cushioning your head with a pillow whenever you fall asleep in your chair. He hates that it isn't enough.

Every time he asks, you deflect his questions and his concern, choosing to inquire about his most recent mission or how his kinship with the Bad Batch is coming along. He reluctantly answers you as he watches you multitask, eagerly listening to him while you repair another starship in the main garage.

But finally, Echo has had enough.

He barges into your office in the middle of the night as soon as he gets back to Kamino after a particularly long mission, heavy footsteps startling you as you scramble to cover the prosthetic.

Echo seethes out your full name, hand curled into a fist as he points at you with his scomp link, and you know you're in deep shit now.

"That's it. I’m going to bed right now and I am taking you with me,” he declares, anger and exhaustion dripping from every word.

“But–”

“No buts! For the past month, I’ve been patient. I do my best to support you and ask you what you need and you can barely even give me the time of day!” Echo exclaims, exasperated. You bite the inside of your cheek, the guilt beginning to weed into your heart as he continues.

“Every time I ask you what’s going on, what’s keeping you here, you just shrug me off and answer with a question of your own,” Echo scoffs, throwing his arms up. “And forget me, what about you? You don’t sleep, you barely eat–when was the last time you did your own damn laundry?”

Your body curls into itself, head hanging down. You can’t meet his eyes, ashamed of how you were so caught up in making his life better that you inadvertently made it worse.

The fight bleeds out of Echo as fast as it entered and he lets out a resigned sigh, posture slackening as he stands in front of you. He lifts your chin up to meet his gaze. The swirl of distress and disquiet is rampant, as clear as the dark shadows under his eyes.

“Just tell me what’s going on,” Echo pleads, the statement coming out as a whisper. You swallow the lump in your throat as you nod. You didn’t want to give it to him today, preferring to wrap it up and hand it to him after he’s well-rested, but at this point, you feel as if you have no choice.

You reach over the durasteel table and uncover the prosthetic hand in a flourish. Echo chokes on air in shock as he stares, frozen and rooted to the ground. You gently pick up your prototype and hold it out to him.

“This is what’s going on,” you reveal, the apology laced in between your words.

Echo is silent as he takes it from your hands, examining the prosthetic in awe before looking at you, tears in his eyes. You smile at him, your face mirroring his own as they begin to fall.

“I-I don’t even know what to say–”

“A thank you will be enough,” you tease lightheartedly, and he laughs in spite of himself, voice caught in his throat as he begins to cry.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, pulling you into a bone-crushing hug that you eagerly return. When he lets go, you begin explaining yourself and the prototype.

“I noticed you were having difficulty doing stuff now that you’re one-handed and I wanted to do something about it since clearly no one else cared,” you frown at the last part, your fury seeping through your words. “This is what I’ve been working on. It’s painful enough trying to have a body readjust to the regular world, but you have it worse because we’re in the midst of a galactic war. So I decided to do my best to make it a little easier for you.”

You sigh as you watch him admire the prosthetic, turning it over in his hand as he listens to you. Your fingers tap lightly against your work table. “When you put it on, it accommodates the scomp link and hides it within, making it look just like a regular hand.”

“I thought you were an astroengineer?” Echo cuts in, confusion written plainly on face as he glances at you.

You chuckle in response to his hidden question. “Technically, I’m not. I’m a biomedical engineer by training. I learned astroengineering on the fly for the GAR,” you smile fondly as Echo blinks in surprise before rolling his eyes at your awful pun. He smiles.

You continue then, demonstrating the hand for him, pulling the prototype out of his grip and gently latching it onto the mechanical part. “I put in a kind of cloaking technology too.”

You tap the interface on the inner wrist and the metal fades away to the exact color of his brown skin. Echo gasps in surprise as he flexes his muscles, the hand smoothly curling into a fist.

“This way, it literally looks and acts like a normal hand and you can go on more covert missions,” you say proudly as you watch him play with it. This feature was the hardest part of making the prosthetic. Converting neural impulses into something a machine could not only understand but actually translate into action that didn’t look clanky and awkward was probably the most frustrating challenge you have ever faced.

You tap the interface again and it fades back to metal. “Inside each finger is a tool you can use out in the field,” you continue, having each finger retract to show knives, cutters, and even a poison vial.

“And lastly…” you make the fingers reverse their action and then retract the entire hand, revealing the scomp. “If you want to use the scomp link, you can do so without having to take the entire hand off!”

Echo stares at the scomp link uncomprehendingly. He’s doing that a lot. Echo doesn’t say anything, hesitantly touching the prosthetic with his flesh hand.

“Right–uh, well, this is only the first prototype, so there are still a lot of problems with it. I have to run a debugger through the code again and make sure the cloaking tech holds up in the field since planet environments can really impact the way everything works. There are a bunch of tests I need to–”

“I love you.”

You stop abruptly, mind short-circuiting as you glance up at Echo in surprise, clearly not expecting such a phrase to cut off your anxious ramble.

“I–what?” you ask rather eloquently. You mentally facepalm. Nice going.

“I love you,” Echo whispers into the space between you, a shared breath holding the weight of the phrase in the charged air. You search his eyes in question–does he mean it? You find your answer amidst the sparkling galaxies and twinkling stars in his warm gaze and you breathe in his confession before exhaling your own.

“I love you too, Echo.”

The smile that breaks out on his face is unrivaled. He scoops you up in his arms, much to your surprise, and spins you around, a laugh bubbling out of you both when your foot hits your chair.

Echo sets you down ever so gently, mellow kindness permeating his every action as he leans in. “Can I kiss you?”

Your heart melts at the patient question because of course he can. Echo is so careful about never pushing boundaries, constantly taking the time to make sure you’re comfortable. And so, you answer him with a nod and shift your face to meet his lips.

It’s chaste and slightly awkward–Echo doesn’t know where to put his hands, instead hovering over your waist, and your nose bumps into his when you move. You both let out a quiet laugh of peace as you rest your head over his heart, his arms engulfing you in a hug. The cool, white lights of your makerspace shine down on you both as you breathe in the light sandalwood incense you light when you work. Rain patters the window gently and you sigh, listening to Echo’s calming heartbeat.

“Let’s go to sleep, cyar'ika.”

---

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 4.5.1 | part 4.5.2 | part +1 📍 (you are here!)

please consider reblogging! it really helps me and is super encouraging ^_^

[onlyswan]

my day started very amazing and ended very horribly, so i wanted to stop by before i head to sleep to try and cheer myself up :') i'm reading through the newest drabble one part at a time to pace myself because apparently i love torturing myself by waiting a full 24 hours before i can pick up where i left off. so once i reach the end you'll probably get a 4 page long review of me raving about it :] anyway, had a quick silly question for iw!couple if it's ok...favorite place to kiss eachother? <3 (also! art !! i feel so giddy anytime you mention this new person in your life!! you are such a cutie hehe. i wish you good luck if you believe in that, and either way i hope you continue being happy, cause you definitely deserve it ♡ i'm sorry if this is too personal to ask so you don't have to answer, but does he know about your blog and/or your writing?)

anyway, i hope everyone has a nice day/night/evening and something good happens to all my fellow art lovers even if it's small. please try to find pride in the things you have accomplished regardless of small you may perceive it to be. thank you for reading! ily! -🌙

favorite place to kiss eachother? <3

“i kiss ____ everywhere, though. it’s too hard to pick a favorite.” jungkook smiles cheekily.

“that’s cheating.” you pout. “choose one!”

“fine! i’d say your neck then. you’re cute and sexy at the same time when i kiss your neck because you’re ticklish there.”

“ohhh, fair. i like that…”

you pucker up your lips in thought.

“i think my favorite place to kiss is your cheeks.”

“why my cheeks?!” he exclaims. “my lips are right there!”

“your lips are nice.” you shrug. “but i love the soft surface area.”

he sighs. “who says those words while talking about kissing?”

“me!”

—

aw my beloved i hope tomorrow and the rest of the week are better for you 🥺🥺🥺

omg your self control is on another level 😭 hehe please do take your time beloved and i hope you enjoy reading the rest of the parts !! <3 i look forward to hearing your thoughtssss ^_^

hehehe thank you so much <333 everyone’s been so sweet and supportive my heart is bursting with joy 🥹🩵 he knows what i write about but i don’t really share my blog with anyone irl !! yk how everyone got that one secret place they go to for destressing? this is that place for me 🥺 told him the same thing and he respects it so yeah

you’re the most precious human being <3 i hope the positivity you bring into the world comes back to you a thousand fold 🌼 thank you for stopping by!! sweet dreams always mwah ilyyyy

[holybibly]

Hi. I just wanted to say thank you so much for being kind and gentle even when you don't agree with someone's opinion. I just sent someone an anonymous ask about my personal views on shipping idols with eachother and my point was skewed in the post. They took it the wrong way and thought I was being homophobic. One of their followers commented on the post and started being really vulgar towards the anon (me) and the person I asked was being passive aggressive towards the end of their response to me. Anyways now I'm crying becuse I didn't mean to upset anyone and said in my post I was not commenting on anything they did at all. I really looked up to their blog and nowi don't feel welcome there. I sent them a second post trying to clear up my original points.

Sorry for trauma dumping I'm just glad your blog is a safe place for everyone and you treat everyone with respect. I'm a new atiny and this community just makes me feel really safe. (It was an SKZ blog)

Thank you for caring about people even if they aren't your bunnies!

Oh baby, I'm so sorry that happened to you, I hope you're feeling better now.

I don't think it really matters whether you're my bunny or not. Even though I only write for Ateez, I've been in the K-pop community for a long time and I've been in a lot of fandoms and experienced a lot of things. By the way, if anyone doesn't know, the group that introduced me to K-pop was Shinee, and I've been around for so long that I was there for the debut of EXO and most of the other groups.

I would also like to say that I try to describe the members in as much detail as possible so that even those fans who are not familiar with our boys can enjoy reading my work. I welcome all fandoms to my bunny kingdom.

As for my disagreements on some issues. I always emphasise that I am expressing my personal opinion and it is absolutely fine if someone disagrees with it. The same goes for my ffs, I am personally open to a huge amount of different perverted shit, and my list of warnings is quite extensive and detailed, so I am always surprised when someone writes to say that it was unpleasant or that I should add more warnings, turning the fanfic into one continuous red flag.

If you do not like it or feel uncomfortable - do not read it, you are consciously exposing yourself to something that will make you uncomfortable and disgusted after reading it.

It also annoys me a little that in a world that defends "one's own opinion", we are criticised and insulted for having the courage to disagree with the general opinion. And even if you are supposedly homophobic, that is your right, but you should not insult someone for it. There are different people, cultures, upbringings and religious beliefs, we have to be able to accept different points of view.

Let me tell you a personal story. One of my best friends is an ardent homophobe, but at the same time I know that she was brought up in a very strict religious family and it is quite difficult for her to perceive the world outside the traditional biblical canon. But this does not prevent me from communicating with her, I respect her opinion and try not to bring up the subject in our communication. We can communicate with people who are completely different from us and who have different views of the world around us. But for some reason, if your opinion is different, the crowd jumps on you with insults. I am so disgusted by this.

So I want to create a safe and maximally tolerant community where we can be who we really are, and even if we don't agree with someone's opinion, we can always express our thoughts in a gentle and respectful way.

Please, bunnies, be aware that I will not tolerate rudeness or disrespect on the blog, either towards me or my bunnies.

[ineffableluci]

I leave the first part of my fic! (It's my first one so don't be so cruel to me :) nice comments for me to get better at english are appreciated tho)

Name: Endgame

Fandom: Helluva Boss

Ships: Stolitz

Summary:

Stolas gave Blitz the crystal, little fight, little make up...long story short, they're okey. Although, there's smth they have to solve yet...Stolas is called for a trial by the Goetias, and it leads to secrets they didn't know about each other...

-Oh, shit- Stolas thought - THE TRIAL. Blitzy, dear, wake up .We’re going late!

-Wha...Oh, fuck! Shitshitshitshit- Blitz screamed.

That day, the Goetias had called Stolas to a trial without specificating what it was about. They imagined that it was about their realtionship. The night before, Stolas and Blitz had a deep conversation about it, and decided that they would accept the decision that made less harm to their families, especially Stolas and Via.

Of course, Blitz stayed at the palace... and it looks like someone has overslept.

-Where are my pants?

-And my hat?

They prepared themselves as fast as they could. The trial was at 9.00 am, and it was already 8:50.

Inside of the carriage, they held hands.

Maybe they don’t think anything bad, maybe they just want to...talk about it? Stolas thought.

Blitz could perceive that Stolas was nervous.

-Hey, Stols- he whispered. He took the bird’s face in his hands and looked at him in the eyes.- Everything will be ok, do you hear me? No matter what those fucks decide, you the girls and I will stick together. We will be...- he was going to say “a family”, but he wasn't ready for that yet, not in that moment.- fine.- he said instead.

-I...- Stolas blushed and his eyes filled with tears- Thanks for coming with me  ,Blitz. I could have never done this in my own.

They kissed gently. There was no lust in it, just love and support.

The door was half open, so they could hear Vassago, one of the Goetias, saying:

-And where is Stolas anyway?

-Here -Stolas replied -sorry for the delay.

Everyone in the room remained in silence while Stolas and Blitz took their seats.

-So, where were we?-.Vassago continued.

At first, they explained the reasons why Stolas was being judged. Both Stolas and Blitz were surprised when a Goetia said:

-The reason of judgment is that the Prince lent his personal Grimoire to a hellborn of lower class for him to travel to the mortal realm, and that’s against the law-

Stolas didn’t know that they knew about his...loans of his book.

“Andrealphus must have been spying on me” he thought.

-Wait, so you aren’t mad at us for having a relationship? -Blitz asked for the both of them.

-Not really. I mean, we’re not very in favour of it, but we don’t consider it’s a fair reason of judgement when Stolas is legally divorced and has already produced a precautionary heir.- Vassago explained.

-So, it is the moment- He announced- After a long debate, our final decision is that this situation is being dangerous for the habitants in Hell. It has come to our ears that a group of human demonhunters is aware of your little works on Earth, and we have decided that, as punishment for putting in danger the safety of Hell, you will stop being part of royalty. Your powers and your possessions will be taken from you and you'll pass to be a hellborn of the lowest class.

Stolas couldn't even speak.

-All that only for... trying to help someone?- He said.

-Well, I don’t fucking agree- Blitz shouted.- Do y'all think you can take his-

-Blitz, dearest, I can handle it- Stolas whispered.

-No, no way I'm going to let you accept.- he answered.- He hasn’t done anything wrong.- He screamed to the court.- I was the one that tried to stole his book in the first place, so don’t punish him.-

Immediately he regretted his words.

-Blitz... what do you mean you tried to stole my book?- Stolas asked with a tremulous voice.

- I...- Blitz gasped.

Fuck...why do I always have to mess things up?

-Do you need a moment? - Vassago asked.

- Yes, please.-

Stolas went quickly out of the room to the corridor. When Blitz arrived, he was with his back towards the door.

-Stols, I...- Blitz sighed- the day I sneaked into your house, I wasn’t there to see you. I was there because I knew your book had access to the human realm, and I needed it for the business.I’m really, really sorry Stols.

-All this time thinking you thought of me...that you remembered me...- Stolas sobbed.

Blitz reached his hand and turned him to him.

He was bursting into tears. Blitz took both of his hands and made him kneel so they were the same heigh.

-Stolas, I’m truly sorry. I didn’t want to tell you because I knew this would happen...but ey, I assure you, all the time I didn’t think about you then, I think it now- a smile appeared in Stolas face.- Yeah, fuck...I can’t stop thinking about you, you pretty bird. How you treat me, your drama queen attitude, how you fight for things when they aren’t fair. The love you have for your daughter, your books, your plants...you’re living fucking rent-free in my head, Stols.

Stolas couldn’t do anything but look at Blitz with amusement. He had never opened to him that way.

-Thanks...for being here Blitz. Not only now in the court, but in my life.I owe so much...-

They kissed gently, and after a few seconds, Blitz said:

-Well, about the trial, I’m obviously not letting you give away everything you own, especially your powers.-

-But dear, you don’t understand what this people are capable of. At least, they won’t punish me so bad because I’m part of the royalty, but with you...they could end you, Blitz.-

-Well then...we’ll ask them what would happen if they punish me instead of you. We’ll decide later, ok babe?-

-Mhhh... Sure - Stolas flushed because of the pet name. He wasn’t used to it yet. - Although, if your punish is the death penalty, I’ll take it, and I won’t hear a no for an answer.- he said very seriously.

Satan takes me...when he’s serious he’s hot as fuck.

They entered the room again.

-So, what have you decided?- Vassago asked.

- We’ve thought of something...what would happen if you punish me?- Blitz said.

- In that case, you...- one of the Goetias whispered something to his ear.- You would be executed, to give example to any other rebel imps, you know?-

So it was true what Stolas said...these fuckers have no mercy.

-So, it’s the death penalty for you or Stolas stopping being a prince. Your choice.-

They looked at each other’s eyes. Blitz’s said “You don’t have to”, while Stolas four eyes replied “Oh honey, I would go to double hell and back for you”.

-I’ll take the punishment- Stolas announced.

-Are you sure?-

- Completely. Although, there is one thing that has been bothering me..., will this affect my daughter? - he asked to Vassago.

The parrot looked to the other Goetias and discussed the matter for a few minutes.

-She'll live with her mother permanently. She won't be punished but you won't be able to live with them.-

-Oh, and...as I suppose my possessions won’t go to her...who’ll keep them?-

-They’ll stay in a save room in the Central Hell Bank.-

-NO!- someone shouted at the other side of the room.

It was Andrealphus, the brother of Stolas' ex-wife, and Stolas knew that he would do everything and more to get as much of his money as he could.

-I don´t believe that is correct.-

-Andrealphus, you took your part of Stolas' fortune when he divorced from his wife. Why would you think this is incorrect?-

-Well, my sister, even though they aren't married anymore, is still connected to him. It wouldn´t be fair to her that, after years of marriage, she doesn´t receive anything from him.-

- Vassago, I don´t want this. I don´t want that woman to take anything from my fortune- Stolas said to the court.

Vassago looked sideways to the other members of the court and, deciding that they were all thinking the same, announced:

- The deal will remain as it was, Andrealphus.-

Other member of the Goetias said:

-So, this is it. -

He began to read a document:

"Stolas of the Ars Goetia, will no longer be consider part of the royalty, and will begin to be a hellborn of the lowest class. He´s powers will be kept and given to the next Goetia to be born, while his material possessions will be kept under high protection.”

-Is that all right?-

-I believe so. - Stolas said. He stood up, took Blitz's hand and said:

- Well, if our presence here isn´t more required, and think we will leave.-

Vassago nodded, and Blitz and Stolas left the room.

They remained all the way back to Blitz's house in silence, holding hands. When they arrived, Blitz saw a note from Loona saying:"Vortex invited me to a party. DON'T CALL ME."

Suddenly he heard a noise coming from the living room.

- Stolas, are you...?- he stopped when he saw Stolas sat in the floor with is back on the wall, his head between his knees and shaking.

He hugged him and whispered:

-You shouldn't have done it. Not for me.-

-Blitz- He raised his head and looked at Stolas in the eyes. His face was full of tears and slightly read."Has he always been this beautiful?...Fuck” Blitz thought. -  It hurts. It hurts now, and maybe tomorrow, and possibly in one week. But, eventually, I will heal. And the most important thing, I will have you by my side to help me. You will help me fill the empty space that I have inside me now that my powers are gone. Blitz, I would give my life for you to be happy.- he said with a soft voice.

-No. Look, babe, I allow that you give your powers for me...probably I will never forgive myself for it, but I allow it. But talking about giving your life just like nothing...I won't. I won´t let that happen. So, I want you to promise me that, don't matter what happens, you won't let yourself be ...killed for me, promise?-

-I...promise- But in the back of his head, Stolas thought "I´m a liar".

After a few minutes of them hugging in silence, Stolas said:

-And now what? I’m no longer part of the royalty. I don´t have a house, I don´t have money. I don’t know what to do Blitz. I’m so scared...

-Hey, hey, hey, don’t panic. Of course I won’t let you sleep in the streets. You will live here. I know it isn’t the most comfy place, but I’m sure that we can buy a bed. And for the money, I’m sure you will find a job so easy. Or if not, you can start working with me and M&M in IMP! Maybe you don’t want to become a killer, but you can help with the-

Stolas shot him up with a lip-crusher kiss. They melted at each other’s contact, feeling that there had been ages since they had been like that. Soon, both of them started feeling hot.

-Well, there isn’t a bed, but... there is a sofa and a floor. Which one do you prefer? - Blitz asked mischievously.

Stolas didn’t even answer. He just smiled and scooped Blitz in his arms. Blitz shoved his face in Stolas fluffy chest. Stolas laid in the sofa, still hugging Blitz, and he started to stroke Blitz’s horns. He rose up his head to look at Stolas. He was with his eyes closed, starting to feel sleepy.

-Maybe we don’t need a bed to sleep. – Stolas whispered.- Just each other.

[glostuffbear]

(Sakamoto Days) Shin x Mind Reader.... reader

The lack of Shin works is outrageous and I'm here to fill the gap. How mind reader and Shin initially met:

  I wonder how that chubby guy and Miss Aoi met. I'm still happy for her though....

Shin lowers the manga he was in the middle of reading of enough to glare at the girl standing next to Sakamoto's wife and Sakamoto himself across from them. She's smiling at the both of them as if she hadn't just insulted the legend to his face. Or at least that's how Shin perceives it.

Oh shut up! Mr.Sakamoto may be chubby but he's the coolest guy around! Don't underestimate him, Chibi. Why don't you say it to his face huh?! (I cringe but I can imagine Shin calling someone short for making fun of Sakamoto).

      She turns her head to Shin sharply, frowning pointedly at Shin.

I'm not short!! You shouldn't be talking anyways! And I didn't mean it in a bad way! I know he's a nice guy I just didn't know his name!        Now is Shin's turn to frown at her, annoyed. He puts down to manga completely to openly glare at her. Lu, sitting next to Shin, stared quizzically between the two.

His name is on the front of the store you idiot!

How am I supposed to know the store was named after him Genius?!

      All of a sudden they pause, blinking at one another. Wait.... Are we....

Reading each other's minds?! We're talking in our minds?!        "Who the hell are you?!" Shin shouts out loud.

       "Who are you?!" She shoots back.

       Lu hits the back of Shin's head before be can shoot out another outburst.

       "Why are you yelling at a random girl?! She didn't say anything to you. What's wrong with you?"  Lu chastises.

        Shin flips his eyes between the two girls and points at the clarvoyant accusingly.

         "She can read minds too!" Shin exclaims.

         "Really?" Lu blinks.

         The strange girl suddenly looks shy, frown desolving and replaced by a nervous look as her eyes trail to the recently mopped tile floor.

        "Oh! Is that how you knew that I wanted help with the lunch earlier?"  Aoi speaks up.

        "I-it's not... I... H-he's lying!!!" She stutters nervously, now pointing at Shin.

        "You're the liar! I heard you!" Shin shoots back.

Shut up, shut up... 

        "See?! You're doing it again!" Shin barks.

    Stop! I can't let anyone know about it! It's supposed to be a secret!

They already believe me! And besides I know about it now anyways.

Please.         Again, Shin pauses. Her eyes are begging him just as much as she is voicing it in her head. Behind the words he can feel a fear for something. Something she has been running away from.       He can't say that he knows her situation, but he's not so rude as to continue when she's asked him to stop. Whatever the reason may be.

     ".... nevermind. I think it was a fluke." Shin sighs. He picks up his manga book again and flips back to the page he left off on.

     "Really? Aw that's a shame... it would have been cool to have two mind readers around huh, Dear?" Aoi asks, turning to her husband.

     He doesn't say anything. His eyes are on the girl who looks away from his focused gaze.

     "Um... I'll put my things upstairs. Thanks again for letting me stay over. It's only temporary and I'll be paying my fair share by the end of the month--"

    "Oh don't worry about it Sweetie! We're happy to help! Right?"  Aoi cuts in, placing a warm hand on her shoulder.

    This time Sakamoto nods his head, agreeing with his wife.

     "Yes. Welcome." He says. She nods her head, still refusing to meet his eyes.

     She grabs her suitcase resting on the ground and rolls it behind her as she heads for the back door to the upstairs apartment.

Wait.

     She pauses next to Shin who has reached out to grab her arm. She sighs and glances at him out of the corner of her eye.

What?

You're staying with them?

For a little.

Why?

     .....

Can we talk later?

Why?

I just-- I never met someone with my same ability before. I want to know about you okay?! I won't tell anyone.

      .... fine. Later.

[lady-morrigen]

i know you didn't reblog this prompt list, but i'm sending it anyway because this just screams allaegon to me

❝ i’ve been fighting far longer than you. ❞ & ❝ the more people you love, the weaker you are. ❞

i... you... you really got me to come out of retirement for this! here's a little blurb (1200 words) for my favorite couple in all of Westeros. please be nice, i'm rusty

your support of Allana means the world to me. thank you for all that you do. i love you 🖤

(banner by the ever talented @acrossthesestars)

“No, Allana, you don’t understand. There is no winning here. I’ve been fighting far longer than you. I must do my duty.” 

King Aegon paced, back and forth, from his grand bed to the fireplace. He ran a hand through his disheveled, silver hair, turning her with exasperation. She leaned against the bedpost, her arms crossed over her chest, her fingers twisting in a lock of wine-red hair, and raised a brow.

“Poor little princeling. It must have been so hard for you to grow up here,” Allana gestured vaguely around the room. “Surrounded by people who loved you, supported you, who understood you. To have your siblings…” It may have been a stretching of the truth, for she knew that Alicent had never understood him, nor had Otto. But his siblings, they had at least tried. 

If Aegon understood the weight of those words, it did not register on his face. He continued pacing. A white silk shirt lay haphazardly across his broad shoulders, his doublet cast aside and forgotten, the untied neck exposing a swath of his chest, glistening with sweat. 

“You think any of these people actually love me? I am a pawn, a means to an end. Nothing more.”

His voice was louder now. Allana knew it to be from the wine, but she couldn’t help a slight wince. He would never hurt her, of that she was sure, but the memories of her father’s rage were hard to forget completely.

“Oh Aegon, don’t be such a child.” She ignored his wince at this, refusing to go easy on him, not now. “Helaena adores you. Aemond, he just… isn’t good at expressing his feelings. He loves you in his own way.”

It was true. Helaena loved her family unconditionally. There was no arguing that she was the best of them. She was tender, and delicate, and incredibly passionate. She gave her love freely and without stipulation, from her family to a stranger. Aemond, however, kept his feelings close to the vest. He hardly knew how to make sense of the tangle of emotions in his brain, much less how to articulate them. Yet he would be the first to mount up and fly off in a rage to avenge a perceived slight to anyone he held dear.

“Aemond resents me, because he knows that he deserves the crown, but he’s a second son forced to watch his idiot brother fuck everything up,” he scoffed. “Helaena doesn’t know me. Not really. She wouldn’t be able to handle it.” 

She rolled her eyes. “Which part? The constant drunkenness or the alleged horde of bastards fathered in the beds of  every brothel in Flea Bottom? Helaena knows far more than you’d imagine, and she loves you despite it all.” 

“I-  how did you- That’s not true!” His face blanched, the color gathering in the fists clenched tightly by his sides. Allana wielded knowledge like a knife, always holding on to it until the very moment she knew that the blow would be lethal.

“Oh isn’t it? You’re the king, Aegon. All you need do is wish for a woman in your bed and you shall have it. If you need someone to clean your ass, simply snap your fingers. But if it’s secrecy you’re looking for, my lord, not even you can buy that. The servants will always talk.” 

“There’s no proof…” 

She had always known things, absorbing the whispers and gossip like a sponge, and knowing when to observe and interpret things left unsaid. When she wasn’t using the Tyrell charm to her benefit, Allana was quiet, yet attentive, a chest of knowledge tucked away in case of emergency. 

“You’re right, there isn’t. Though I think a sudden increase in silver-haired babes might have tipped a few people off.”

He deflated at that, the bravado of his anger leaving him. “What am I going to do?”

He had stopped pacing, landing in front of the fireplace, gazing at the flames as if the answer could be found within them. Allana almost felt bad for him. Aegon never asked for the responsibility that rested on his shoulders. When his father died, he had snuck away with the intention of catching a ship to one of the free cities before the news had even left the keep. He was willing to give it all up, to let Aemond rule, yet duty reigned supreme. 

“You’re going to stop feeling sorry for yourself, for one. Despite what you say, I know we can fight this. They won’t win this time.”Allana pushed off of the bedpost, crossing the room to stand beside him, her hand on his shoulder in an attempt to ground him. He was warm beneath her fingers, warm and familiar.

“There’s too much at risk, Allana! I am the king! The king does not show weakness.” He straightened, pushing past her to slump on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands.

“And what weakness would that be? There isn’t a single person in Westeros that would dare challenge a Targaryen. Not a single person in Essos or the Great Grass Sea. The only one brave enough to do so is your own blood.”

“Love,” he choked; the sound hoarse, as if it pained him. “The more people you love, the weaker you are. You wouldn’t understand.”

“Wouldn’t I? You don’t know all that I lost to be here, to do my duty.” She clasped her hands in front of her, so tightly that her knuckles turned white. She made no effort to stop the tears as they fell, hot against her skin. “I loved my brother endlessly and his death cleaved my heart in two. Then Rowan left without even a letter to soothe my pain and I swore that I would never allow myself to love again. I loved my parents, Aegon. Despite everything they’ve done, I still do. Yet they sent me here to grieve alone, a scared girl in a strange place who needed comfort and found none. I’ll never forgive them for that.”

Aegon looked at her then, an expression on his face that she could not place, not unlike one of fear. Fear that she may not love him as she claimed. She crossed the room, standing in front of him, her delicate hands cradling his face as she continued, tilting his face up toward hers so that he may see the honesty in her eyes.

“Love has brought me nothing but pain, again and again, heartbreak after heartbreak, and I’m afraid that my heart will not be able to bear another.” She stood taller now, letting go of him, her chin lifting defiantly. “But I risked it all, Your Grace. I risked my reputation, my safety, and my heart… for you.”

His arms circled her waist, pulling her tight and resting his head against the smooth fabric that covered her stomach. Instinctively, her hand tangled in the shaggy silver hair atop his head, the other stroking soothingly over his back. She held him tight, her tempestuous king, clinging to him, ivy to a mouldering wall.

“I will make this right,” he breathed. “I will find a way. For you.”

taglist: @acrossthesestars, @dragonsbone, @emilykaldwen, @arrthurpendragon, @lightblindingme

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #90

I'm not really sure what to write to you about today. I think I might have overextended myself in recent days, and once more I'm finding that my brain feels like soup. The sense of not really belonging in this place is hitting me kinda hard today, I guess. Suppose you would know a lot about what that's like.

Truth is, I struggle often enough with the way I perceive the world around me. I do it weirdly (much like how I do literally everything else... sigh...). I'm not gonna bother to articulate how, though; I doubt you'd be interested anyway. Fact remains that there ain't a whole lot of folks I can talk to about it; even if I could, most wouldn't understand, so why bother. Suppose it is what it is though; no sense in bellyaching. I just wish that it was a thing that could be measured, recorded, corroborated. Something that could be rationalized, explained, made logical. My mind tends to despise uncertainties; it likes everything to be concretized and nailed down.

…Ah well.

Like yesterday, today was busy, and also painful, thanks to Physical Therapy. There's weird stuff going on with the right side of my jaw, and the muscles holding it together needed to be mashed up with metal implements. I guess I'm gonna need braces sooner rather than later, because I really needed braces as a kid, but I didn't get 'em, and now my bite is all messed up, which means now my jaw is all messed up, and having the jaw messed up pulls on the neck, which then pulls on the ribs, and my ribs being weird is why I've been dealing with limited ability to use my right arm for the last almost two years to begin with, but I hesitate to get it fixed because braces cost a LOT of money, and I think most insurances won't cover the cost of it this late in life, so… it's a mess.

My whole existence is kind of a mess in a variety of respects, and… ya know. Sometimes I'm not sure why I bother persisting when all of it seems kind of like a farce; I live in a defective body on a dying planet where everyone is so traumatized that lots of 'em believe that killing each other is the answer to all their problems. Sometimes I just... don't wanna. Waking up in the morning in a world where there is no ethical way to maintain the integrity of my physical vessel seems like a chore.

…But then I remember that there are people who like having me around, even if I can't understand why most of the time. So I gotta believe that something good might come of my derping around on this mossy wet rock hurtling through space, even if I don't yet know what it is.

You ever get the feeling like there's something you're supposed to be doing, but you have no idea what it is, and you're running out of time? Feels like that almost constantly for me. If you know what that's like and know how to deal with it, lemme know, willya? I could use some pointers.

In the meantime… there's some stuff I've been meaning to learn how to do. I'm not gonna tell you what it is just yet, because it would ruin the surprise. But I hope the results will be good, if I can stop being intimidated long enough to get the gumption.

Anyway… Sephiroth. My brain continues to be soup. I think if I keep going, I'm just gonna keep rambling. I'm tired, but… I wanted to write anyway, because you're worth others' effort, even when they're feeling weird. But it's time to stop for today, because I'm having trouble staying on topic and stringing cohesive ideas together.

Please stay safe out there, okay? I don't wanna endure your absence, just like the folks who love me don't wanna endure mine. So let's both keep trying our best to keep our chins up and our eyes on the horizon, okay?

I'll leave you with this today:

I know you're not a little girl, so maybe you can think "little one" instead. Please take the overall message to heart. Please do your best to remain kind and gentle, no matter what tries to come along and break you.

I'll write again soon.

Your friend, Lumine