#but he was just Gone and then he was There and we can't even see what he was doing because he's not recording his perspective

[love-byers]

st4 music coding: yearning and miscommunication (& lumax/byler parallel)

alright here we go

this will be long so strap in

(yes this is the post i've been hyping up for like 3 days lol)

there's a song that i noticed plays twice in season 4, in two very similar scenes, and a third that ill talk about later. the first is lucas looking at the hellfire club celebrate, and the second is will looking at mike and el skate ahead of him. i've drawn a few interesting parallels here that i think really strengthen byler endgame. please watch the video above in tandem with reading the post

first of all the obvious: lucas and will are both yearning to be with what/who they're looking at. lucas wanted to be there for the end of the campaign. he asked them to move it, not cancel it. he wanted to be there because he likes being in the club and he loves his friends. and we all know will byers is devastatingly in love with mike wheeler, so that speaks for itself. lucas and will are both feeling rejected, forgotten, unneeded, replaced. they are also both looking at their sibling taking their place. erica took lucas' place in hellfire, and el has taken will's place at mike's side. mike and el were attached at the hip the whole day, and that used to be mike and will. will knew mike long before el did, and before they started dating mike and will were a firm duo. mike and el were heavy on the PDA that day, but mike used to be affectionate towards will too, putting his arm around him, holding his hand, sticking close to him, laying his head on his chest, hugging him, etc etc. now mike can't even hug him. and there's a special sting about your sibling of all people replacing you, and seeing your friends (or crush in will's case) having a great time without you, with the better version of you, not needing you, not even thinking of you. and right there, ladies and gentleman, is where will and lucas are wrong. sure, the hellfire club were happy with erica and about the fact that they won, but they wanted lucas there. the whole reason mike and dustin were upset in the first place was because lucas was choosing the basketball team over them. they accepted that lucas had "gone to the dark side" and went on to find his replacement. they feel like lucas doesn't need them anymore, that he's replaced them with the jocks. and little do they know, that is not true. lucas misses them and yearns to be over there celebrating with them. and though it doesn't seem like it in that moment (lucas' point of view), they miss him and want him there too. they are miscommunicating. the same is going on with mike and will. will feels rejected, ignored, replaced. he thinks mike has basically forgotten he was there. he thinks mike couldn't give half a shit about him. he thinks mike doesn't need him. he will soon find out that that could not be farther from the truth. mike was HOT AND FUCKING BOTHERED. he felt rejected by will. he felt like will was purposefully pulling away. he felt ignored. he felt replaced by will's non-existent friends and maybe even a girl will liked. he felt like will didn't need him anymore, that will was doing great without him. he felt like he had lost will. he, like the hellfire club, accepted (or attempted to accept) that they weren't wanted or needed and leaned heavy into filling that void. (meanwhile lucas' replacement wasn't sufficing, and will didn't even have one). and little does mike know, that is all wrong. he missed will just as much as will missed him. he'd been watching will all day hoping will would talk to him. meanwhile will thinks mike has looked at him like...twice, and so does the audience, because we got will's pov first. this is why the rink o mania fight is so all over the place and dramatic, they're basically running smack dab into each other at full speed. they're both confused because the other suddenly cares about their relationship, and they're both hurt. they are miscommunicating. the hellfire club enjoyed having erica there, but she's not lucas. mike enjoyed hanging out with el, but she's just not will. meanwhile , lucas' replacement for hellfire wasn't sufficing, and will never tried to replace mike at all.

onto more specifc and visual parallels: lucas, el, will, and mike all fake smiles. i really want to stress el and mike, because not a lot of people realize that shot is about both of them. mike is faking a smile too. mike is upset too. mike is trying to appear happy and satisfied too. like y'all please cut my son some slack he was having a BAD DAY. his whole day was shitty too just have some empathy. if you really pay attention, you'll see that mike and el are doing the exact same things in tandem. mike sighs, el sighs. mike fakes a smile, el fakes a smile. mike's smile falls, el's smile falls. they're both trying to conform, trying to pass of lies as reality. "I try to laugh about it, cover it all up with lies... I try to laugh about it, hiding the tears in my eyes..."

now lastly: the scene of max listening to the radio call of the game. this falls right in line with the themes of the other scenes. she feels like lucas is doing great without her, like she's not needed. his life is just getting better and better and hers is getting worse. but she's got it all wrong too. she turns it off when the radio guy says "He must be feeling on top of the world right now". he was not. he was feeling shitty and missing his friends. he was missing max desperately, all the time. and he felt rejected by max, like she was steadily pulling away from him. and unlike the others where the distancing happens because of the miscommunication, max and lucas' happened because max distanced herself, and she was not there to see how lucas was really feeling, which was shitty. and yall already know im byler brainrotted as fuck so its extremely important to me that both times this track is used there is romance involved. in the ep 1 scene the song specifically trails into max's scene, roping her into this coding. mike and will are once again paralleled to a canon, requited, well written couple.

i don't really have any closing thoughts

actually here i have one: lucas and will parallels are the reason i wake up and breathe every day

and another actually

at this point to anyone who truly thinks mlvn are getting married:

and byler endgame but wbk

[fatliberation]

Sorry for leaving this in your inbox, but I need to vent and ask for advice in a place where people won't mock me. What do you do when sex is super difficult because of your fat? I've recently gotten into my first relationship and. I thought I had a handle on my internalized fatphobia and self hate but this has made it worse than ever. We can't have satisfying penetrative sex (we've tried all the tips and workarounds. Nothing works. I'm larger than most of the FA community.), and recieving oral sex is also difficult for me. I also get tired and sweaty extremely quickly if I have to like hold up myself on mostly my arms or something, so he has to do most of the work. So sex is just. Mostly the one that works on repeat, and we don't have it very often because it isn't that fun for either of us, and it also makes me cry afterwards sometimes because of how disappointing it is & me beating myself up over it.

I'm genuinely worried my boyfriend is going to leave me for this. He's clearly very frustrated with the situation, even though he tries to be nice about it most of the time. Earlier today I tried to like be flirty and hint at stuff and he just. got a bit sad. and then said that clearly neither of us enjoy the sex we're having and that he has a lot of trouble staying hard.and that he doesn't see the point when we're both forcing it for no reason. I think he's going to break up with me soon. His ex is way lighter than me, so he's probably comparing the normal sex he had with her with whatever the fuck this abnormal shitshow is :/

All the work I've done on myself to be happy with being fat (including working up the courage to date, what a mistake that was lmao) is all gone. This has ruined my self-esteem so much. I feel like one of those fatphobic jokes but a person.

first and foremost, please try your best to remember this: your body is not the problem. one more time. your body is not the problem. I'm so very sorry you're concerned that your boyfriend would leave you over this. it sounds like he has a lot of preconceived ideas about how sex is supposed to go. I promise you that it doesn't have to be this way. if this is something that could really end the relationship, know that this person is not compatible or open to exploring your needs, rather than your needs being "too difficult." I promise it's him, not you. I know folks who are 600+ pounds who have excellent sex lives and partners who satisfy them and enjoy satisfying them. when someone starts treating your pleasure like a chore, that's just shitty. I know how much it hurts. it also does damage to your own openness to pleasure. when you're caught up in feeling like sex/your body is something that needs to be "fixed," nothing is going to feel sexy, because all that pressure puts stress on and takes you out of the mental state where you're able to experience pleasure. does that make sense? so many couples get stuck in this cycle.

there are so many ways to engage in pleasure without penetration or orgasm. there's a lot that goes into foreplay, setting a mood, making your partner feel appreciated and attractive. words and touch play a huge part in this. something as simple as exploring each other's bodies, not with the intention of reaching climax, but simply to be vulnerable and engage each others' senses. have your partner give you a massage. play with your hair. tickle your back with a feather. shower together. kiss you. compliment you. if either of you are into any kinks or dirty talk, that could be a great way to engage each other sexually without the pressure of "achieving" a goal. the goal here is just to feel good, close, and connected. societal messaging about sex has placed so much importance on orgasm instead of pleasure - when taking the time and space to relax and receive attention, is key.

feel free to check out my other posts on fat sex ed, there's lots of assistive toys that can make pleasure more accessible, but I think that should be a tool for later, since the biggest issue here is the pressure to perform. know that pleasurable sex can exist for you! but for now, I would recommend taking a break from sex altogether since it is not pleasurable for you right now. because pleasure is the whole point. forcing it is only going to feel worse. you do not owe it to your boyfriend, especially if it doesn't feel good and is taking an emotional toll. I hope you both are able to take a step back, reassess and communicate, and are able to reconnect and create a safe space to explore.

I understand why you're beating yourself up over this, I've been there too. but also know that it's just another societal standard that's been internalized (and it doesn't sound like your boyfriend is helping). like you said, you've done a lot to unlearn fatphobia. there's a lot of internalized beliefs we absorb from society surrounding sex, just like body image. I promise that there is nothing wrong with you. If your boyfriend takes his frustration out on you instead of making you feel safe to express your needs, then he's not a supportive partner. you deserve someone who takes delight in your pleasure and your body. believe me, we're out there.

[himbodruid]

Promised Wildfire

Rafayel x reader

You make a trip to one of Rafayel’s exhibitions to surprise him. How will he react to the surprise? 😏

An expansion on the Promised Wildfire secret times

-:- thigh fucking -:- marking -:- you try to seduce him but he turns it back around -:- “painting”

INTENDED FOR 18+ READERS. MINORS DNI

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It was a split second decision that made you seek out the hotel Rafayel was staying at, even though the original plan was to meet with him on his return to Linkon in the morning. You were sad that you had to miss the exhibition that he was the guest of honor of, but work kept you preoccupied until you got on the plane.

Getting a key to his room had been suspiciously easy, though the two of you had gone very public with your relationship a little over a month ago. It was almost impossible for you to go anywhere in Linkon without someone recognizing you because of how much he loved to show you off. But you had to wonder if he expected you to come by, and had the hotel put your name on the room too.

So you waited for him in his room, wearing nothing but the lacy negligé you’d grabbed at the last minute before leaving Linkon. You paced between the couch and bed, not sure which would be more enticing to him once he arrived back in his room. You didn’t even know when he would arrive. The show was supposed to last until late evening, but Rafayel enjoyed socializing at the after parties as well, and could be out until who knew when.

As soon as you began questioning your decision, you heard the door handle turn. You had been standing between the bedroom of the suite and the sitting area, but rushed back to the bed to perch at the edge in what you hoped would be an alluring pose.

Rafayel was on the phone, and you could see a bored expression on his face through the crack in the bedroom door. He paced the sitting area, hand on his hip and phone against his ear. He was dressed extravagantly, as usual, and you let your gaze sweep over his beautiful form, from broad shoulders to his narrow waist that fit so nicely between your thighs. You felt your face flush when he slipped out of the maroon jacket, watching his back and shoulders strain against the intricate pattern of his shirt.

“Really, Thomas?” He said, rolling his eyes. “Another last minute event?”

He listened for a moment, turning when he noticed a dim light coming from his room. He paced closer to the door and froze, brow furrowed in confusion and concern at the unexpected intrusion.

“Well, duh. Of course I can't make it. I gotta return to Linkon tomorrow- smell ya later.” He tossed the phone aside haphazardly.

“Is someone there?” His question was stern, but then his eyes widened when he stepped into the room and took in your scantily clad figure draped across his bed. A pretty blush spread across his face, even as mischief sparkled in his eyes.

“Cutie, why are you here so early?” He chuckled, striding closer to you.

“Mmm, too much time’s passed since I saw you last. I missed you.”

“You missed me sooo much that you decided to give me a surprise visit? Are we trying for a new romantic escapade here?”

“Mmmmmmaybe.” You gripped his tie and tugged him closer. His hand found your knee, deft fingers brushing your skin with feather-light touches.

“Okay, I’ll admit your surprise was perfect.”

“Is that so?” You teased him, looking up at him through your lashes. His eyes were darkened by desire and his mouth was quirked in a cheeky smile. A finger came up to smooth a trail along your neck, more of those feather touches that made you shiver and goosebumps pebble your skin.

“I’m excited,” he said, leaning down close to you. “You have no idea. It’s almost like butterflies are about to burst from my chest.”

Feeling bold, you closed the gap and kissed him gently. Just a quick, teasing press of your lips against his. He breathed a chuckle.

“Was this sneak attack also part of your surprise?”

You tried to hide your smile by biting your lower lip, but failed. His gaze zeroed in on the action before flicking back to your eyes. Another breathy chuckle escaped him.

“Ahh…your kiss couldn’t stop the butterflies from flying out of my heart.”

He crowded you against the edge of the bed, not quite crawling atop you. His arm held your legs together, hand caressing the backs of your thighs. Your breath hitched when he tilted your chin up, mouth hovering just above yours.

“But this is how you do it,” he whispered to you. And then he leaned in the rest of the way, capturing your lips in an unhurried kiss that sent heat straight to your core. His hips rolled forward and you could feel the length of him hardening against your thigh. Soft moans escaped him as he coaxed your mouth open to plunge his tongue in. You responded to him in kind, losing control of the situation every second it went on.

“Miss Bodyguard,” he murmured against your lips. His hand trailed down, down, until he found your slit between your thighs. A sharp inhale sounded when he realized you wore nothing down there to conceal yourself from him. “You’ve given me quite a surprise. How should I repay you?”

“Mmmh, how about a nice kiss,” you breathe as he continued to explore your folds, slicking your thighs with your arousal.

“Sure, I can kiss you,” he said, resting his forehead against yours.

“Let's start with just above your eyes-“ he kissed your brow, a painfully tender touch of his lips against your skin.

“Your nose-“ he kissed the very tip of your nose, causing you to giggle.

“Ears…” he dipped his head, lips lingering against the spot just below your ear. When he move back, his teeth scraped your lobe in passing. A moan escaped you, and your hands clenched his shirt and tie.

“And lips, too.” He devoured you again and you opened to him willingly, tangling your tongue with his with shared moans. His hips rocked against your thigh and you could feel him standing at full attention now, even as confined as he still was in his trousers.

“I’ll make sure to say hello to each of them,” he said. He placed his forehead against yours again, those damnably beautiful eyes of his bouncing between yours.

“It’s been so long,” he said. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, Rafayel.” He groaned when you said his name, unable to keep from kissing you over and over and over again, all while his hips seemed to move of their own accord.

You shifted as his nimble fingers continued playing with your slit, but never entering you. You longed for him to slide them into you, or better yet, his cock. Your squirming didn’t go unnoticed.

“Don’t move. I want to savor this moment. I’m always scared that you’re just a figment of my imagination.” His breathy confession made your heart lurch.

“I really am here, Rafayel,” you murmur to him, nipping at his lower lip when you leaned in to kiss him. He didn’t even try to hold back his moan. You were exceptionally appreciative of how vocal he was about his pleasure, the sounds he made shooting straight to your core.

“You’re real. And warm. It’s like I’m being enveloped in a pool of water.”

You weren’t sure the metaphor was the same for him, but you sure felt like your head was swimming. So much stimulation from him, and he hadn’t even begun to have his way with you yet. You were definitely no longer in control of this seduction.

“I don’t want to let you go, I could hold you like this forever.”

“Is that so?” Feeling another wave of boldness, you all but ripped his tie from him. The action was aggressive, but still he moaned.

“What are you-“ his question was cut off when you managed to wrench his wrists together and wrapped the tie firmly around them. You gave him a self-satisfied grin, though you mourned the loss of his touch.

“When I said I wouldn’t let go,” he chuckled. “I wasn’t giving you permission to tie me up.”

He wedged himself between your knees so that he could lean over you, his bound wrists above your head. You hissed in a breath when he nipped at your neck.

“And…you did it with my own tie, no less.”

“It’s just your punishment for not coming back sooner. I’ve been waiting for you for so long,” you admonished, tapping him on the nose. He huffed a chuckle.

“Fine, fiiine. Punish me however you want, cutie.”

You tugged the tie upwards so that his hands would slide out from where he rested his weight on them. The action brought him closer to you until he was half-laying on you.

“Ouch,” he chuckled. “An artist’s wrists are precious, you know.”

His lips hovered over yours and it was a battle of wills that heightened the senses.

“But you’re very very cute, right now. I don’t mind being tied up by you.”

“Mmm so you mean I can do it more? I’ll hold you to that.”

You smoothed your hands down his chest, feeling the firmness of the muscle beneath the fabric. He let out a shaky exhale.

“This shirt is too tight. Can you help me unbutton it?”

Your fingers obediently began working at the buttons. You paced yourself, although you wanted to just rip the shirt from him. But the heated expression he gave you was worth the slow progress. You stopped half way down to touch him, running your hands down his chest and back up.

“It's still too tight…keep unbuttoning it,” he demanded breathily. And so you did. But you didn’t stop at just his shirt. A grin spread across your face when you unbuttoned and unzipped his dress slacks.

He closed his eyes when you palmed him through fabric at first, his breathing becoming laboured when you freed his cock fully and stroked him. He pressed his hips forward to chase your touch when your hand slid to the tip of him. Moaned when you pressed your thumb against the underside of his glans. You were enjoying the flush of his pretty face, the breathlessness, the way his body reacted to your touch. Maybe you could regain control of the situation, after all.

“You broke the rules,” he groaned. He took your legs and lifted, placing your calves against his shoulders while you stroked him faster. “Getting straight to the point, huh?”

You continued to work at his cock, and he watched while placing kisses against your ankles and calves. His moans grew in intensity before he suddenly jerked back, out of your grip.

“Okay, you can stop now..” he whined.

“Rafayel?” His name fell from your lips in a breathier moan than you intended.

“We’ve only been separated for a few days. And you somehow managed to become so bold.”

He shifted your legs again so that both of them rested together on a single shoulder. He pulled you so that you lay flush against him where he stood at the edge of the bed, the lingerie bunching up to expose even more of your curves to him. Your newly unoccupied hands turned to grip at the sheets above you while he looked down at you with a predatory glint in his eye.

“Then..does that mean I can also be a little bold… and spice things up?” His chuckle turned into a sigh of longing. You noticed, then, the tie dangling from only one of his wrists.

“Wait, how did you break free?” You were quickly relinquishing control back to him, it seemed.

“That’s something I can’t tell you. A slippery fish like me can’t be caught so easily.” He let out a breathy chuckle at his silly little rhyme and positioned himself. But he didn’t enter your slicked folds. Instead his cock pressed between your thighs, just above your mound.

“R-Rafayel,” his name came from you on a pleasured breath.

“At this point,” he said, drawing his hips back and then pressing forward into your thighs again. “Begging or running away won't help.”

The sight of him fucking your thighs was nearly your end. Beautiful man that he was, it was never something you would have expected from him. Especially not when you were trying to seduce him. He did a very fine job at turning this seduction back on you and you shivered in anticipation.

“I forgot to turn on the AC…it’ll be hot in here soon enough.” With that, his thrusts into your thighs became long strokes punctuated by his moans. He turned his head to kiss wherever he could on your legs. Your heart thundered in your chest watching him take pleasure from such a simple thing, and you could feel heat building in your core rapidly. This explained why he was insistent in spreading your natural lubricant along the backside of your thighs only moments prior.

Every few thrusts, his gaze would snap to yours. And every time it did, your breath would hitch at the intensity you saw there. He was enjoying this as much as you were, and you were almost certain he knew the sounds he made were driving you insane. Watching him pleasure himself on you was one thing, but every single one of his moans shot straight through you until you couldn’t hold back your own sounds.

And then his hips jerked forward almost violently, his release spilling onto your stomach and pelvis with a hissed moan from him. It was the single most arousing thing you had experienced, and you couldn’t help squirming under him even as he gripped your thighs to keep you still.

“I only touched this and you’re already flushed,” he teased, squeezing your thighs in his grasp before letting go. He slid your legs from his shoulder, opening you to him completely once more. His cock rested heavy against your pelvis, still hard as he took in the mess he made of you.

“I guess Miss Bodyguard is a blank canvas,” he said. He reached down, flattening a hand against your stomach and spreading his seed further against your skin.

“Mmh. I painted a masterpiece on your body, and only I get to admire it.”

He pulled away from you then to shed the rest of his clothing, barely breaking eye contact with you as he did. You shifted backwards onto the bed as he crawled over you until you both rested in the center. His weight pressing you into the mattress, his cock waiting eagerly at your entrance..it was all almost too much for you and you shuddered with anticipation again. You looked down and saw his sculpted stomach resting against yours without a single regard for the mess that slicked there.

“What if I wanna see how beautiful your painting is?” You whined, biting your lip. He chuckled, capturing your lips in a searing kiss.

“It’s not finished, yet,” he said, thrusting into you with a guttural moan. Your arousal was at such heights that he glided in without the need to adjust to his size. And you were glad for that, because you wanted him viscerally. You were feral for him, and you wrapped your legs around his hips to lock him to you.

You knew he could feel your need because he set a punishing pace. His mouth roamed your body even as his hips collided with you over and over. Your moans mingled with his, rising to duet the lewd sounds of him pistoning in and out of you.

And then his mouth latched onto your neck, sucking the spot until he was satisfied a mark would be there for some time. He could already see it purpling when he finally let go, and he groaned at the sight.

“I wanna leave my mark here,” he kissed the mark he made.

“And there.” He latched onto your collarbone to draw up another.

“Yes…everywhere,” he moaned when he saw his new mark. And so he went about leaving a trail of those marks while he thrust into you. The sensations surrounding you were overwhelming and all you could do was cling to him.

“Mmmh, oh fu-“ he breathed, freezing and trying to pull from you.

“No,” you growled, locking your ankles so he couldn’t. “Inside.”

“In that case,” he said, thrusting forward. Hard. “I willingly surrender myself to you.”

And so he did. His thrusts grew erratic as he chased his release. Your own built and overflowed so rapidly, all you could do was cry out his name and dig your nails into him. The fluttering pulse of your climax wrapped around his cock was just the push he needed. His hips twitched and his body jerked as he flooded you, whining moans escaping him at the overwhelming rush of sensations.

When you finally came down from the high, your lips lazily found his again. He kissed you in such a painfully tender way, nuzzling into your neck between such kisses. It took some time before either of you could breathe without heavy panting, and you reveled in the way his body continued to press yours into the luxurious mattress.

Your eyes roamed him, taking in every detail of the moment to lock it away in your memories. Your eyes fell on the various marks dotting your body and a thrill jolted through you. You liked being marked by him. Being claimed in such a primal way. And yet..

“Mm, this is unfair,” you said. He pulled back to look at you with confusion in his eyes.

“What is?”

“All these marks on me and not a single one on you!” You feigned a pout and he snorted a laugh, relaxing back into you.

“Well then. You could leave a mark on me, right? It’ll be yours.”

And so you did. Your mouth found his neck and latched on, drawing your own mark up against his skin. His moan was a whimper in your ear and his hips pressed forward again. He was panting, moaning, whining, squirming as your mouth remained secured to his neck. When you finally let him go, he whimpered a soft ‘ow’.

“You’re greedy, aren’t you?” He asked, breathless.

“Mmmh, yup,” you say, your mouth finding his chest to leave another mark there.

“Making me surrender isn’t enough?” He whined.

“I want to leave my mark on you, too,” you say when you release him once more.

“All right then,” he said, tilting his head to the side to give you better access to his neck. “Don’t miss a single spot.”

You left your own trail of marks as he took you again. You were surprised to find that even after his second climax, he was still hard inside you. Every mark that you left on his skin was met by his shuddering, breathy moans. If you tried to stop, an adorable pout would entice you back to your task, all the way until he thrust deep into you again with a guttural moan signalling his release.

You rested with him for some time, a companionable silence spreading between you. He laid atop you, arms wrapped around you with his ear against your chest so he could listen to your heartbeat. You let your hand card through his soft waves in a tender touch. You were certain he’d fallen asleep at some point, but then he sat up and tugged you off the bed with him.

He carried you into the bathroom, stripping the lingerie you were wearing, running the bath and kissing you while waiting for the tub to fill. And then he gently lowered you into the bath, the water hot enough to almost scald- it was perfect. He remained outside the claw foot tub, pampering and caring for you- brushing your hair, using a soft cloth on every inch of your skin, etc. The pout he gave when he realized that he’d washed away the seed he spilled on your abdomen made you laugh. You leaned in, giving him a kiss. A kiss he quickly took over, plunging his tongue into your mouth.

Next thing you knew, he was in the tub with you, pumping into you again and making the water slosh over the edges. Your voices echoed in the tiled room as he took you again and again. You were sure you would be leaking his cum for days by the time he was done with you.

“No more,” you begged him with quivering limbs after he carried you back to bed, and utilized your overstimulation to bring out yet another climax with his skilled tongue. “Rafayel, I can’t take any more.”

He chuckled and relented. He wrapped himself around you, spooning you against him and laying the comforter over you. He buried his nose against the back of your neck, inhaling deeply. He enjoyed the smell of his scent mixed with yours on your skin, another way that he was able to claim you.

The warmth of his embrace lulled you into sleep as the sun began to peek over the horizon.

[i-am-a-bad-influence-writes]

P*rn ☆ 

Chapter 3, After party

Masterlist

Word count: 1.2 k

Sylus x Fem!Reader

Summary: You have been following a spicy content creator by the name of Red Crow for some time now. Nothing could’ve prepared you for what would happen when he moves into the apartment next door.

Warning! This story is meant for mature audiences. It contains sex, swear words, porn, smoking, intimate piercings, mentions of drugs, alcohol, and other mature themes. Do not engage if you are under 18.

Author's note: Tehee, I'm suddenly writing like I'm on fucking speed. Have another chapter while I'm not burned out from this story yet <3

Mature content under the cut.

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘ 

'Oh, you've got to be fucking kidding me,' you hiss to yourself. You've gotten dried off and dressed after your very unsuccessful cold shower (that maybe ended in you masturbating anyway) and opened your phone to see if you had any notifications. The last thing you expected to see was a new video from Red Crow, aka Sylus, aka your neighbor, jacking off right after meeting you wearing the same thing shirt he had when he opened the door for you.  

Is he teasing you? No, surely not. He said he'd make a video if everyone begged for it, don't be delusional... It is a nice idea though. Him being that horny after meeting you for no more than two minutes. 

Before you can even watch the first ten seconds of the video, your doorbell rings. It scares the bejesus out of you and you almost drop your phone. Fuck, you need to calm down and you need to do it fucking now. Tara is at your door, and you need to get through a night of romcoms and facemasks before you can watch that video. 

You rush to the door and open it with a friendly smile, trying hard to hide the lust filled thoughts playing behind your eyes. There stands Tara, but she's engaged in a conversation. 'Oh, hello,' she says to you with a smile and turns to your neighbor's door, 'Kieran, Sylus, have fun. See you soon.' 

Shit, you just can't help it. You stick your head around the corner and there he stands, confidently leaned against the doorframe of his door, arms crossed, wearing a different shirt for a reason that you can very easily imagine after that video. He wears a self-satisfied smirk on his lips when he sees your head peak around the corner and nods his head to you. Your cheeks burn and you barely even notice Kieran standing there. You try to nod back at him as casually as you can but there's no saving you now. So you just head back in and wait for Tara to follow you in hopes that it won't look too strange. 

'What was that all about,' she asks, following you inside. You shrug and venture further into your apartment. 

'Do you want tea?' Tara frowns and closes the door behind her a little too loud. She seems more concerned than angry, just as she had this morning. 

'Ma’am, what is going on,' she demands, standing with her hands on her hips in the middle of the living room. If you hadn't know what kind of person she is, you might've taken it more seriously but with the way your brain is fried you fear you might not even be able to hold a normal conversation. 

'He's rude,' you blurt out, your filter completely gone. Shit, your brain really is fried. 'Anyway, what movie should we watch?' 

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘ 

'What was all that,' Kieran nearly cries out like an excited teenage girl while trying to hit Sylus’ shoulders. Not that he can. Despite his size, Sylus is incredibly fast. Blame years and years of boxing for that. 

'I have no clue what you mean,' Sylus says cold, calculated, monotone, but the slightest flinch of the corners of his lips give him away. He quickly turns to his bar cart to pour them all a drink, but then he spots the bottle of whiskey you gave him and his lips twitch up again. 

This time Luke also catches it. He turns on the couch, clutching the back and pulling himself up in a chaotic attempt to climb over and tease Sylus like there's no tomorrow. He fails miserably when Sylus looks back at him with one warning look while pouring the whiskey. 

Kieran sits down in one of the two big lazy chairs while Luke spreads out on the couch. 'Did she come over?' 

'She got me a housewarming present,' Sylus muses, trying to keep his composure as he grabs the three glasses of whiskey by the rims and walks them over to the coffee table. As soon as they're set down, Kieran and Luke shoot up to claim their glasses. 

'A housewarming present,' Luke says in a teasing tone while wiggling his eyebrows, his eyes flicking from Kieran to Sylus and back a few times. Sylus sighs and pinches his brow, still trying so damn hard to make it seem like everything is the same. 

'Whiskey,' he says to explain, 'she got me a bottle of whiskey.' 

'And you made her throat burn,' Luke teases once more, but this time even Kieran cringes. 

'And you wonder why you're single,' Kieran sighs. 

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘ 

'Come on, out with it,' Tara demands. Throughout the last two hours, you've been dancing around the topic under the guise of choosing a movie, making tea, putting facemasks on, painting each other's toenails, etcetera, but you're dead out of things to keep Tara busy. So you just give in. Well, you give in a little bit. Can't play all your cards yet. 

'He's hot okay,' you groan, 'he's fucking hot and I have a fucking dry spell.'  

That was clearly not what Tara expected you to say after you told her he was rude to you. 'Wait, back it up, I thought you were joking about you and Zayne just being friends.' 

'No, we're really just friends. We've kissed once to see if we wanted something more but neither of us felt anything.' She nods. 

'And Sylus is your type?' 

'Well,' you mumble, a blush forming on your cheeks, 'I guess. I've always liked them tall. Can't say I've ever met anyone like him before, though.' Mentally, you beat yourself up. This man is a sex God and you're sitting here, one measly wall away from him, blushing like Sylus and you are the main characters in a slow burn k-drama. 

'Fair enough,' she agrees and suggests, 'I can give him your number under the guise of telling each other about parties and stuff. Like what you did with Zayne.' 

'I don't think he's the kind of person who likes having his hand forced,' you note uncertainly, 'besides, he's a grown man. If he wants something, he can get it himself.' And shit, the way you would give it to him. They'd have to add a new level to the Richter Scale after you're done with him. Or he's done with you, whatever he prefers to say. You're not picky as long as you can feel his hands all over you. “Wait, stop, you're still with Tara. Calm your ovaries woman,” you mentally scream at yourself, hoping the blush on your cheeks still seems as innocent as it had a bit ago but you can feel your ears flush.

Tara agrees with a nod, seemingly not noticing anything: 'You're right. And he did seem to like you.' 

'That's probably just because I gave him whiskey as a housewarming gift.' 

'No, I don't think I've ever seen him look at a woman like that,' she says absentmindedly. You suddenly feel your heart pounding in your chest once more. Truly, your heart is trying to be your undoing. You're not supposed to like this person after meeting them once but at the same time, you've been watching him for ages. When you think about it, it actually feels a little bit weird. 

You've been watching him, he doesn't know you. And yet, he seems to be the more confident one.

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[astralspen]

Something amazing about In Stars and Time is how it makes you feel what Siffrin feels.

And yes, when you go through Act 5 and everything breaks down that's cool.

But when Siffrin feels loved and safe, I think that's what's special. That's what makes this game and these characters so special to me.

As someone who, too, had a similar feeling of feeling unlovable for a very long time. This game really healed that part of me.

When the timeloops start, and Siffrin clings to being useful, you still feel little bits of love. Small, barely there, a little distanced, because Siffrin feels distanced. But it's still there. The party looks out for you, pays attention to you, makes stupid jokes with you.

As you go through, you feel love through Loop. Loop who despite all the teasing and bullying helps. Helps the person who they so wish they could be. The one who holds their own heart, who has the family they lost. Loop reaches out to you, reminds you, you're here, I see you. It hurts, but I see you. And I will always see you and sit with you. And I will keep you from becoming as detached as I did, whether that be by annoying you or having a heart to heart or just yapping in general.

You feel love from the head housemaiden. That cruel kind as she weeps for your situation, and crys tears you can not. As she apologizes over and over again. Euphrasies loves by showing you the painful kind of mercy, the one that stabs you in your heart and makes you want to scream, because she loves through pity. Through pitying you and your suffering. No matter how much it hurts it is love nonetheless.

And finally, in the end, after everything you've done, after everything you went through. You feel love again. This time in your face, so burning and bright that you can not ignore it, you feel loved from the very people you loved from the start. The party who runs in to save you, despite everything you said. Who tells you it's ok, you were going insane, we may be a little mad at what you said, but in the end that doesn't matter. Because we love you. And man, when they really showed the unconditional love, I was going to cry. Because a love like that, especially one with the party, is so hard to find. And it's so precious.

Finally, you see love, one more time. Twohats. The Loop fight. Loop, who is trying to kill you, Loop who is so jealous because that is the love they so wanted. They want their family back. Loop who despite everything. They still can't kill Siffrin. Siffrin, who despite being forced to fight again, who could drop dead at any moment because of his craft exhaustion, refuses to oblige Loops request. They both refuse to kill. Because they still love each other. Siffrin who pulls Loop into a hug, and apologizes. Apologizes to who they once were, the Siffrin who should've gotten this. The one who had their family and their heart stolen from them. The Siffrin who never got to feel love. He thanks who they are now, Loop. For sticking with them despite everything. Who watched Siffrin, guided them, gave them a shoulder to cry on, bantered with them so Siffrin did not lose himself. Who despite everything, still decided to help. Siffrin isn't mad at Loop, because Siffrin knows, he would do the same. Siffrin gives Loop back all the love they gave. He let's Loop move on, knowing they're loved. That they always have been. Loop accepts that their family is gone, that they loved them all the same. They learn that even with them gone, they were still loved. Loop is allowed to be happy as they leave.

And isn't that just what this game is about? That no matter what, everyone deserves to be loved. To know it too, and to be happy. And that's what healed me a bit. Because if even the King, who spent his days weeping for a kingdom long gone, who lost all his family and could not build a new one, who froze everything in time, was still able to know and remember the love he had in the end, then why can't I? Why can't anyone? If even the ones who hated and cried and destroyed everything, the ones who hid it all until they couldn't, who didn't understand their emotions and felt trapped within a construct, who didn't feel like them no matter how much they changed, then can't we, too, love and be loved?

This game shows that love does not have to be romantic, does not have to be displayed in any way, is not something earned, but is a basic right for all of us. And for that, I thank it.

[astracora]

Turning Point - Part 4

Characters: Poly!LADs x gn!mc

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Injuries, Angst, Loss of Arm, Lots of emotional struggle with disability, Xavier Anecdote and Lightseeker Myth mentions.

Word Count: 4584

Written: 7th January 2025

Notes: Pre-relationship with gn!MC with all LADs, with my personal pov of the game and lil headcanons littered in. Unnamed MC, but using my personal MC's basic appearance and adjusted backstory. I take some liberties with what the game offers me. This one was rough for a lot of reasons. Also I think about how Xavier is the only confirmed character to watch MC die in his arms, way more than I should. So I feel like guilt is an emotion he would have to contend with the most. I'm also beyond heartbroken we didn't get him sobbing or reacting in game. Also I wrote like, so many side things while I was trying to work this bit out. But I've also gone back to chapter 3 to change the timeframe for Raffy's exhibit, so I can write out the chapter for him properly. (chapter? part?)

Now Playing: Starlight, by STARSET

Masterlist AO3

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Xavier can't focus, he knows Nero is talking to him. If he had to make a guess, he knows the topic… he just can't make himself hear it.

He doesn't dislike Nero, and while he couldn't care less about the topic of Lumiere, least of all when you talk about him, he normally listens. Because Nero likes Xavier, and is comfortable talking to him, and has zero interest in flirting with you.

It's a low threshold… he's aware he's a selfish creature. If the new companions he'd acquired weren't willing to die for you too, he probably would have less patience for them. Even if sometimes they do press on the edges of his tolerance.

It's probably part of his punishment…

For not being there.

For letting you get hurt.

"Xavier?"

"Xaviiiiiier?"

"Hey!"

His nose is held, and he jolts upright, looking forwards with wide eyes at Tara and Nero who are frowning.

"Are you alright?"

"Sorry, I didn't mean to bore you."

He shakes his head, trying to clear what you've dubbed his 'storm cloud', "Just tired."

Tired. Angry. Hurting. He let you down, and now you're suffering even more.

He thinks about the you he left behind, the future he turned his back on. He thinks about the throne, and the ship he chartered.

He thinks about every life he's taken to protect yours. All the blood on his hands.

With all of his vigilance, all of his love, it took moments to almost lose you. Again.

"You should head home, we don't have any missions, and you'll just fall asleep again." Tara laughs, pushing a paper bag towards him, "And take this back for them, alright?"

He's about to do so, when he sees documents on Nero's desk. Sketches of prosthetic arms, augmented with wanderer designs. "What are you doing?"

Nero jumps, shoving the paper back but too slowly, Xavier picks it up to peer at it. Alongside the sketches are notes.

'Adjust the metal casing so it can be used as an emergency shield.' 'Nerve transmitters that work from the brain, requires less input from residual limb.' 'Bioorganic materials from wanderers reduce rejection rate?' 'Will they want patterns? Or something more skin-like?'

He looks at Nero, from all the notes, even some he can't read because the handwriting is quick and frantic, "What's this?"

The man in question looks down, his glasses almost falling off his nose, "I was talking to some of the other hunters who have a prosthetic. or lost a limb."

"I was doing the talking, Nero was taking notes."

He nods, looking a little more backed up with Tara next to him, "I wanted to find out what they could have used more when they started working again. Ways I could help them." He blinks then, looking startled, "They're coming back right?"

Tara looks at Xavier too, and he feels like he's under a microscope, because her face has changed. Fear lurking in frantic eyes.

"They will." He affirms, because you're aiming to, and he knows you don't give up. You'll stumble, trip, fall and bleed… but you'll get up and start running again.

He thinks about the you he left behind, and the you now.

Scarred and angry, aching at the edges. He thinks of the laughter when you finish a mission, fist bumping him with glee. The photos he has of you where you're smiling. Even if you don't smile as wide as Tara does, even if the scars tug at your lips. He thinks about your eyes, glittering with mischief, as you steal something off his desk.

When you can't stop laughing when you ask to try his light blade, flashing teeth like a cat. Heated cheeks but amused. He shares a blush, but he wishes you wouldn't tease.

You're different, with overlaps in parts.

He misses your smile.

"Nero, can you help me with something?"

—-

When he gets back to the apartment building, the moon high in the sky, he wants to see you straight away… but his hunter uniform is dirty, and he wants to relax. Release the strain of the day. So he stops off, changes, and sees some of the doctor's clothes next to his bed.

He's not sure what made him offer his apartment as a secondary place to stay. He's not sure if it was the relief in your eyes when you saw them all there the next morning, or the guilt that he wasn't enough alone to protect you.

Regardless, he made a choice. Even though only the doctor seems to use it. Rafayel prefers to sleep on the floor, if he sleeps at all with his projects, Sylus drifts in and out like a ghost… he only stays when he stays next to you.

He finds himself sleeping against your bed when you do, when he's not fighting. Trying to chase out the guilt with his sword.

As he makes his way back to your apartment, he sees a note on the fridge.

Plate in fridge, reheat it.

With a sketch of a round crow… he thinks it's wearing a neck ruff?

"Courtesy of kitten," The voice is even, and he sees Sylus at the kitchen table. Prosthetic in hand, as he goes through motions they all know. Cleaning and tending to it. "The crow, that is. The food is me. An extra plate is easy."

Xavier would question the intelligence of eating food made by a criminal, but if he trusts Sylus' food in your hands, he doesn't fear it in his own. "Thanks." He doesn't want to think too hard about this. About the state of things. The people around him that he never would have met without you.

He fractures at the idea that he can't be enough to protect you.

He'll eat it later, when guilt doesn't turn his stomach.

"If you're going to check in on them, do it quietly." Sylus doesn't look up at him, content to ease leather with careful hands and cloth, "They finally got to sleep."

He bristles a little, at being told to be careful with you, eyes narrowing and cold, but it is not received. The man even has the nerve to begin humming, low and under his breath. Out of tune. Xavier doesn't think he's ever met another man so impossibly unbothered by the world around him.

The words are ignored, received with a huff, and he walks past, towards your bedroom. You're alone today, no Rafayel lay on the bed with you, sketching, no Zayne, reading in the dark, as you sleep. You are curled around a large plushie of a narwhal, arm clutching it to your chest as you mutter through your dreams.

It is a relief to see the steady movement of your breathing. Though he still does not settle down until he places a hand on your cheek, feeling the exhale. You're alive, you're here, and you're under his hands.

The guilt calms down, as he reminds himself of that.

Instead of going back out to eat, Xavier settles down on the floor, back pressed to the bed, cheek on the mattress. Watching you. It is one of the few times he is relieved for his ease of sleep. So he can drift off, watching you live.

—----

The next morning, he places a cup of coffee next to your bedside table, and gives a nod to Sylus who has been reading one of your books, before returning to the Hunter's Association. He comes face to face with an excited Nero.

He almost takes a step back. Very nearly turns around and walks out, before he remembers he asked for something, "Xavier!"

Tara is following close behind, hiding her laughter behind her hand, "He's been waiting by the door for you."

"Three people responded that they're interested in talking to you. They're also happy to have notes taken, so I can help."

He wasn't sure he'd hear anything this quickly, he supposes he shouldn't be that surprised. Nero fixates on something, just as much as you do. His fixation tends to come in bursts of problem solving, yours comes in biting and tearing and clawing to the solution.

"Alright, let's go."

Jenna gives him time to talk, and he walks with Nero to a room where the three people are sat, chatting between themselves.

They still, and watch as he hesitates. An older man chuckles at him, waving his one hand, "Sit down, lad. We don't bite."

It moves his feet, into a chair, but not his mouth. He needs to move forwards, but he's not sure how.

What can he say? How can he help you? What words are there to help you move forwards?

He thinks about the trembling in your body, the tears that won't fall in your eyes. He is stuck. Xavier is stuck, like he's holding you under a meteor shower again. Shaking you.

Begging. For something.

A miracle.

"Nero already told us about your partner." A woman speaks, she sports a flexible keel prosthesis, "Not that we don't know about UNICORNs, you lot don't half make some noise." Her voice is cool, level, but she has a small smile. Warm eyes.

It eases him. "I wanted-"

"To ask questions right, lad? I can talk for hours for you."

So he lets them, as he listens. The old man works in analytics, collating information for the Association. He was born without his hand. Tried prosthetics, none took, he didn't want to keep trying.

"I accepted it straight away, my husband stood beside me. There are problems, but we work through them."

The young female hunter is from one of the Beta teams. Lost her foot in a fight with a wyrm, saved her partner in the process.

"I thought I'd accepted it, took the prosthetic training, everything went well. It was two years later, when I woke up one day, burst into tears. Couldn't stop." She fidgets, toying with her fingers for a moment, before straightening up, "Sometimes I still get sad, like I'm finally processing it, but normally it's just another day. It's a tool, not part of me, but it gave me most of my independence back. So even when I'm sad, I hold to that."

The third hunter twirls a pen around their prosthetic fingers, they're an arctic hunter, in the area for training. There's a large scar down their eye, and they don't react visually to the others, but leans forward to speak. They don't reveal how they gained their prosthetic.

"Didn't accept it, not for a long time. Woke up everyday angry, got reckless. Almost died." They exhale, deep, slow, tired, "Sometimes I'm still angry, but I'm still a fighter. I can still help my squad. So it's worth it. Took me longer to get around to using it than most, I dragged my feet, didn't want to learn for ages. It was my partner that got me moving, came to check in on me. Called me a fool, 'one life, idiot, keep living it'. So I did."

"It's hard sometimes, but people handle it differently."

Xavier sits and listens, they give tips on coming back to working as a hunter, they share everything he could even think to ask. Warm and ready, and understanding. They ask to meet you when you're back, tease him about his name and yours.

You're one of Jenna's best for a reason. Those hunter's reels certainly get watched a lot.

He tries not to think about the advertisements he's had to star in, either alongside you or alone. He's just relieved he doesn't get recognised as Lumiere.

That conversation would be even longer.

Hunters live a job at risk, he's aware of that… he can't stop thinking about it.

"Kid." He looks up, wants to correct the man, decides against it, "It's alright to be struggling, worrying about your partner. They're not gone though. Don't sit in the past. Get help yourself, but remember to share with them. Let that partner of yours know how you feel, they'll feel less isolated."

His shoulders jump, the chill in his back. He's been fatalising. Acting like you're broken when he knows that's what you're fearing. Thinking of you like you're gone, when you're right in front of him.

Stuck in the past…

Guilt and pain and worry making him think about you like he'll lose you if he stops.

You're alive, and you're moving forwards, and he needs to as well. With you. "Thank you." This thanks, he thinks, feels more honest. Like he's not biting his tongue to say it.

When Xavier returns home, he doesn't mind the plate left in the fridge for him.

He doesn't mind that the most wanted man of Philos is chuckling with your head in his lap, because he joins you on the sofa, and listens to you tell them about your sessions.

He has to remember you're capable of protecting yourself, you've always wanted to stand equal. Protecting others, as much as they protect you. Stubborn, and proud, to a fault sometimes.

As you smile, small and crooked at him, he offers you the notes he and Nero finished compiling.

You read them, eyes wide, and glimmering, before wrapping your arm around his neck.

"Thank you Xavier."

It's good to not be alone, he thinks. It's been far too long. Too many he's had to lose… That he's forgotten how to reach out, how to even take a hand, let alone stop himself from holding too tight out of fear.

He doesn't want to forget your future.

Even when Sylus smirks, calls him a little knightling, and he debates if you really need a support system that includes the criminal.

—----

Progress is steady. You struggle, and you stumble. But you remember the laughter in the kitchen and the beast dropping off your back to curl about your ankle.

You think about the notes handed to you by Xavier, carefully recorded accounts of acknowledgment, support… life.

You think about Tara, Simone and Nero. How much you want to get back to standing alongside them.

You think about gentle hands taking care of you in the bathroom while you shivered, and warm meals with arguing voices.

You think about Caleb. What he'd say if he were with you.

And you take one step at a time.

When you are not in front of Doctor Rin, clinging far too tightly to whoever's hand is turning bone white in your grip, you are practicing at home.

She's asked you what your goal was, the point you're aiming for.

It is easier, she reminds you, to have something to achieve.

It's an easy question, you want to be back in the field again, you want to make your life mean something. You want to fight alongside the people you trust, and not leave them to flounder alone.

When you are a hunter again, and taking on missions, that's when you'll have achieved your goal. You tell her, hand in a fist.

Her smile overlaps with Gran's, the day you'd told her and Caleb you got into the academy. You think about the way he'd poked you in the forehead, then ruffled your hair, 'Way ta go pipsqueak.'

You think he'd be pulling your hand, running forwards, if he were here. Just like he pulled you forwards everytime you got injured in a fight. Just like he pulled when you wanted to give up.

The memory keeps you from stopping.

Over the course of weeks, you set yourself challenges.

It starts with challenging yourself to hold your prosthetic.

It's not as heavy as you think it should be. The logical part of your brain reminds you that it's built for hunters specifically, and is replacing your arm.

It's that logical part of your brain that stops you from throwing it away from you. It is a tool, you tell yourself. Something that will ensure you can still be a hunter. That eventually, at the end of this, you will be able to go back to doing what you should be doing. Using your life to help others. No matter how short it is.

Some days it feels like it burns you when you place your hand on it. Those days, you leave your room, and sit by Rafayel as he paints. Watching him work, seeing the world he sees. 

You ask him questions about his work, even though part of you worries you'll disturb him. He never indicates you are, answering you happily. You think he's happy to share, you hope he is. You're happy to listen.

One day you see his open sketchbook.

For a second, you see a sketch of you, worn and tired… but alive. Your body scarred, but you tremble to see yourself looking like art on his page.

You close the book, placing it back by his canvas, and go back to the prosthetic. To try again.

You learn to wear it, for short periods of time a day, to build up to throughout the day.

You start off, managing twenty minutes, before you have to rip the thing off. Relieved when Zayne catches your hand, stopping you from doing any damage to it. Before he helps you ease yourself out.

The straps are easy to adjust with one hand, but when you want it off, it feels as though you are on fire. Tearing at clothing melting into your skin.

He sits next to you and massages your residual limb, fingers easing hair from your face, tracing lines on your cheek. The fire in your body settles at the cool touch of his hands, and you settle again.

Later, you try again. When it burns, you remember the ice of Zayne's touch, and keep going.

The next stage is to clean it. You learn the motions, you study how to do it. Sat in the living room, tools to your side, figuring out how best to do it with one hand.

There are days when you drop the tools. Trying hard not to sob as they tumble to the floor. Choking back tears as your hand doesn't work the way you want it too. As you fail to follow the steps correctly. As you spill leather conditioner on the table, or the carpet.

In those moments, someone will join you at your side. Sylus will pull the tools away, and sit next to you, running through the motions he's been learning as he's watched you. Overtime, it becomes routine. He masters the steps before you do, assisting you, cleaning out the inner socket alongside as you gently clean the leather straps. Other times, Xavier, hesitant and unsure about touching your prosthetic, joins you. Head in your lap. You speak the steps out loud, running through them so he can learn them with you. The next time, he does it himself, calm and kind and warm. Smiling at you as he does so.

Everyday is a day to take your medication, your wounds are healing well, and with the care of those around you, you are coming away with scars, but no longer bleeding through bandages.

The final challenge is the practice, the movement and the acquainting yourself with the movement of your limb.

You sit in the hospital room you can't stand, hand anchored in Sylus', who has joined you for today. It is another day, and the weight of walking through corridors has eased somewhat. You know the passage of time means things become easier, you're used to that. The flow, the adjustment. The steps forward, and stumbles back.

Your heart has given you some experience in this.

Doctor Rin greets you easily, awaiting your arrival. As soon as she sees you, she smiles. It is that same warm smile that makes the ghosts lurk at your shoulders. It is an exhale to steady you, before you return it with a half smile. Hard enough to offer expressions, without the added grief pulling you back.

It passes easier than you expect. An introduction to the exercises you need to practice, information about not forcing yourself until you hurt. To take breaks and come back to it, if you fail five times, stop. Try again later.

To practice every day. It is a skill you have to learn. Not unlike when you were learning to use your weapons, struggling to learn how to aim. Falling down everytime you swung a claymore.

It is simple things. Can you open and close your new hand? Can you rotate your wrist?

It is a mountain, one you are scared to try to climb.

There is the stable hand in yours, a man who chuckles at you as you look at him, seeking out something in molten eyes. You don't like being weak in front of Sylus, despite him offering you the space to be yourself. It is a long standing fear.

You are more scared to be alone, however, so you turn back to the doctor.

You remind yourself of boxing training with Sylus, who teases you when you don't punch fast enough, but takes you in earnest. Rights your stance. Watches you practice. Praises you for improvement.

Challenges you to be better.

This is another tool you can use, something to enable you to fight again. To stand by him and fight again.

So you follow the doctor's instructions. It is an almost unconscious feeling. She has explained how the transmitters work, but you don't want to think about it too much. Understanding is something, you need it to be instinctual. If it's not, you won't be able to fight again.

Still, you feel yourself overextend. Overcompensate movement where it was once easy. The hand stares back at you as you watch it, and you try to remember what you used to do. Extend. Feel where the muscles should tense along your shoulder. Close. Open.

It reacts, but it is slow. Metal fingers steadily opening, closing. You try to twist your wrist, but it doesn't move the way you want. Frustration builds. You try again. You feel your shoulder twitch but nothing happens.

Your teeth grit, and you try again.

"Kitten." The voice calls you back, a firm grip takes your chin, turning your head to focus on his molten eyes again. There is a twinkle in there, his normally ever present smirk has evened out. Serious but calming. You watch the red of his eyes swirl, and you feel him smooth his thumb across your cheek. "Don't chase your tail, take a deep breath, try again."

He pushes you forwards. Always. Testing your limits, watching you grow.

You think about ways you'd trained your body to fight, ways you made yourself stronger. Running with Zayne, practicing with the blade with Xavier, maneuvers with Rafayel, strength training with Sylus. You are not going to stop until you learn how to use this.

Until you achieve that goal.

This time, when you try, it comes a little easier, as you calm yourself down. Heart settling into a steady rhythm and you watch the hand move. Twisting the wrist, opening and closing it. Pride settles in your chest, as you grin at it. Relief and satisfaction, that you haven't failed. You turn and you twist and watch in awe.

The fingers open a little quicker, you practice moving them but the individual movements are sluggish, and you try to pick things up, but you drop them more than you hold them.

When Sylus nudges you with his shoulder, smirking at you, you take on the pride in his eyes, and you keep moving forwards.

You hit a wall when you have to stretch it out properly, bending the elbow joint, but you settle.

You take the challenge.

It is a mountain you will learn to climb.

You learned how to be a hunter, you can learn this.

As you walk home with Sylus, twisting the arm despite your fatigue, he chuckles, "You look like you've received a new toy. You're like this when I get you a new gun."

You sniff at him, poking him with the metal hand, though its clumsy and more of a full hand than a finger. Marvelling at the feeling of heat from him that comes through the prosthetic. "You just wait, soon I'll be swinging a sword again."

He pauses, looking at you, and then laughs. A chuckle that shakes his hand in yours, and then pulls you in to flick your forehead, "Alright Kitten, let's get you there."

The exercises continue at home, you move into the kitchen while Sylus cooks, to practice with a ball. The more you do it, the easier it gets to learn the motions. Every new thing you try, however, is a hurdle you feel sick to overcome.

Sometimes the movement refuses to do as you want. So you remove it, and try not to cry, try not to drown, and find a distraction.

When you try to pick up a cup, you watch in horror as you drop it, smashing it across the floor. Sylus pulls you away from the fragments, soothing the upset, over breaking something. Over failing. Over being this.

After that you stick to things that won't break, won't hurt you. It still aches when you drop something, when you fail. You're never alone in the pain for too long, there is always a constant, someone there to keep you from spiralling.

The more they catch you, the less you need catching. Until you pick up a cup, and you laugh. Pride brimming. An achievement, no broken shards. A tool you are learning to use.

Later, when you're tired, but relieved, you sit at the kitchen table as Sylus sings along to a song in your playlist as he cooks, there is no Rafayel to argue with, so he seems far calmer. Happy. He always seems happy when he sings.

"Sy?"

He hums, looking back at you. His smiles are often more warm eyes than movement of his mouth, quirks and twitches. "What's wrong Kitten?"

You hesitate, thinking about how many days you've seen him stood at the counter, preparing food for you, and the others. It is guilt on your shoulders, but it is also relief and thankfulness. He is a warm presence, always answering the phone when you need him. "Can I help?"

He shrugs, "Sure, come and stir." So you join him, it is not a hard task, but you feel a little more like you're here. Helping.

Living and not existing. The creature at your ankle stirs and purrs, eased and happy.

You haven't heard it settle in such a long time.

"Thank you." You speak, staring into the pot, watching the swirling at the end of your spatula.

The man stands next to you and shrugs, unbothered, "Not a problem, kitten. I've told you, ask, demand, request. You can be greedy with me." He reaches over and flicks your forehead, before tapping your nose. "I'm always here for you. Even if you do let our food burn."

You panic as the heat bubbles over, and quickly turn it down, and he simply laughs at you. So you elbow him in the side, and revel in the way his laugh blossoms harder.

When you eat with everyone that evening, you help ladle out food, and set the table. You don't run away to the darkness of your room, and you add the laughter around you to your collection of reasons to keep moving.

[raayllum]

Right in front of our faces

So I've been thinking about self-eating a lot. Not only because it's weirdly on brand with everything in Claudia's arc (drinking her own blood, treating her own body basically as dark magic parts just for other people's metaphorical consumption, at least in her head, rather than for her own desires) but also because... Why, y'know? Why have this be a thing, why reserve it for the third arc, an arc wherein with the Archdragons gone Aaravos' main goal will be to dismantle the Cosmic Council?

In some ways, I think I was so focused on Aaravos' side of things—the easiest way to get revenge on the Stars (since they don't care about the destruction of their creation, not really, according to him) would be to kill them but he, for whatever reason, cannot do that—that I was missing the obvious other side of things.

Aaravos asks in 7x08, "Are you watching?" but wouldn't it be really bad for him if they were? What is stopping the Cosmic Council from transporting Aaravos to the same place they took Leola and permanently killing him, since permanently killing a Startouch elf is something we know the Cosmic Council, uniquely, can do? He couldn't stop them before when he was more powerful than he is now as a 'Fallen' Star.

Aaravos' plan hinges on eventually getting the Stars' attention, and they are presumably still at their full power, just no longer involved with Xadia. He is seemingly never concerned, even when making the choice to live and plot against them, that the Stars would just kill him the way they did with Leola.

Or maybe, perhaps, he already has a reason that they can't.

As he collapses in tears at Leola's trial, Aaravos' chest star is complete and right side up. After, presumably, 100 years of weeping, his star is inverted and the centre piece is missing when the Merciful One comes to see him.

The reason I brought up self-eating is because we see it's used as a form of chasing immortality, even beyond what Kim'Dael does. I've long speculated that Aaravos purposefully carved out his chest piece, whether to place it in something or to help create dark magic. He may not have done anything with it, even if it was on purpose, but I wonder... if he ate it, in order to ensure that the Cosmic Council couldn't kill him.

This is especially noteworthy since from what we see of Leola's trial, her destructive glow begins in her chest star and then spreads to her fingers, and the destruction of Aaravos' mortal form is radically different.

This doesn't really make sense. Leola was destroyed while in her mortal form, given that moments before she'd been living and interacting with things on earth, just like her father. Aaravos' destruction stems from the bite mark at first, but then begins elsewhere that's entirely separate (the foot) and never broaches the hands. Leola becomes entirely light, while Aaravos' body seems to be shattered, and does bear a striking resemblance to how dark!Callum crumbles in the 2x08 dark magic nightmares.

Furthermore, when Leola is killed and her star energy is sent down (for lack of a better description), we do see a symbol of a star being inverted, despite that not being a part of her character design.

We also know that Aaravos' body being destroyed differently in 7x09 isn't due to dark magic use, at least not in terms of his body. As of season seven, he hadn't done any dark magic in his new body, which is a soft reset. However, we also know that dark magic affects your soul/spirit (6x06) which would, presumably, be the same no matter the body in this case. Therefore, the reason Aaravos' body might've crumbled (beyond differences in execution style) might be because of the dark magic he's used that created a permanent hole in his spirit/self, and one that Leola, of course did not have.

I also think some of this in my head is connecting to the ideas of sacrifice. Other characters, especially parents, can sacrifice themselves in TDP canon in hopes of a better future for their children / the next generation (the three queens, the archdragons, Harrow, etc). Aaravos divorcing himself from the ability to sacrifice himself, especially after thousands of years with no daughter to speak of (until Claudia, but on her in a second), purposefully robs himself from the ability to make a meaningful contribution to the cycle. Death, permanent death, provides meaning and consequence, both things he's seemingly devoid of.

Sacrificing his ability to die (his heart) and at least, in theory, reunite with his daughter / no longer exist without her to ensure he can 'avenge' her is a hell of a thing, after all. And on a certain level, that seems like his endgame goal regardless. Even if all the above speculation is untrue and wily, unless he can execute himself, in destroying/killing (?) all the other Startouch elves, he will be alone and eternal... forever, with no way out, carrying only the pain of his child's death and withering satisfaction at punishing her murderers, unless he decided to eventually change.

Like I said: a hell of a thing.

[lesaurita]

♡︎ Shinso Hitoshi as your boyfriend ♡︎

Pairing: fem!reader x Shinso Hitoshi

Genre: fluff

Warnings: suggestive content, possessive!Shinso, jealous!Shinso

•° his hair is always in knots, you can't tell me otherwise. he'll never admit it, in fact he'll say that he only does it because it makes you happy, but he loves it when you cuddle him like this: with his head on your lap, while he lets you comb his hair and run your hands through it. There have been many times when he's fallen asleep in this position, and every time you catch him when he tries to get even closer to your body with his face.

•° he's not a fan of PDA, but if you really insist, you can hold each other by the pinky. Just know that if you meet someone you know while you're walking, his hand will immediately leave yours. He's very shy, what can you do?

•° I'm convinced of this when I say it: HE'S POSSESSIVE! maybe even a little too much at times, it could be a red flag, but he thought it was obvious the day you got together, that you are his and no one else's. When he sees that someone is taking things a little too far with you, he doesn't think twice about reaching out to you and making that someone understand who you belong to.

The boy in front of you was clearly hitting on you, you told him several times that you're not interested and that you don't want to have anything to do with him, but no, some boys are just empty-headed.

Luckily for you, you can't say the same for the boy though, you feel the presence of your boyfriend coming from behind. An arm slides around your waist and pulls you back, making you slam into Shinso's chest.

"That's enough." you hear his voice close to your ear: it's low, hoarse and you can feel the annoyance dancing between the words.

his grip on your waist tightens, and you're sure that it will almost certainly leave its mark for the next few minutes. it's a clear sign that he wants to send, but not to you, to the bastard in front of the two of you. he knows that you know that you are his, but the bastard has yet to figure it out.

"Leave, before I'll make you." shivers run down your spine, and judging from the way the boy in front of you swallowed, he felt the same way.

•° At first he was against it, but he can't resist your sweet eyes that implore him, when you beg him to use his quirk in bed. at first he thinks it's unfair to you, but in reality, deep down, it's the excitement that gets the better of him. the idea of ​​being able to have absolute control over you, being able to tell you what to do without you saying anything, the way you're submissive to him...he just can't help it, but to turn himself on. He's always seen his powers as a bad thing, like the powers of a villain, but if we look at it from this point of view, it couldn't have gone better for him.

•° he reminds you that he loves you in the most random moments of the day, as long as it's just the two of you and no one else. You can be doing the most casual things, like cooking something, listening to music together and he will pull you close with a hug, whispering in your ear how much he loves you.

•° he has black humor. on the surface he may seem like the usual guy who never jokes, always serious and shy, but give him time to open up to you and be ready for the jokes you would never expect to come out of his mouth. he has a humor, you just have to get it.

•° he is definitely the type of guy who would rather stay home and watch a movie in peace, rather than go to a party, drink and dance. If instead you are the type who likes to go clubbing, you can be sure that he will be your personal driver both there and back. He will never let you go home alone, with a taxi or an uber or with someone. Just call him and he will already be in the car to pick you up.

•° Pet names. He has a ton of them. Eery day he calls you by a different name, but there's one that he particularly likes, and above all that has a certain effect on you: doll. He just sounds so majestic when he calls you that, it's impossible for your knees not to tremble at that sound.

•° he always compliments you, for everything. You got a good grade in school, you did well in practice, when you look beautiful in a dress. He doesn't care, whatever you do, he'll compliment and praise you.

"Shinso! Look, I got an A on the test!" You show him the test, but in reality he hasn't even had time to look at it, since you immediately jump on him.

His arms immediately meet behind your back and he squeezes you tightly so that he lifts you up and makes you spin in the air.

When he puts you back down, he presses a kiss on your head and with a sweet voice makes your heart melt: "Good girl, I'm so proud of you, doll."

•° in my opinion, Shinso is the kind of boyfriend who would ask (force) you to sit on his lap and do his eyeliner (even better if he asks you to do his waterline too, he'd look so good). Plus he loves seeing your face focused just a few inches away from his, while his hands remain on your lower back. Shinso with makeup>>>

•° when you both became adults, at eighteen, he'll beg you to get a tattoo together. He wants your love to be seen by everyone, what better idea than to tattoo it on your skin. Oh, and don't be surprised if after a few months you see his pale skin covered in black ink. Not long after you'll be running your hands over a body almost full of tattoos.

[duskdog]

Very good thoughts here on Steph's conservatism, esp re: punitive justice. She's been on the "losing" side of that of the revolving prison door for her whole life. Dad was in and out, and rather than make her life better, it only made it worse. Not only did Dad never reform, but the stress of having a parent who's in and out can't be denied. Visiting Arthur in prison and listening to him rant about Batman rather than just be with his family (can you imagine him spending that short, precious time expressing how much he misses his little girl? of course not), dealing with Arthur's lawyers and showing up to support him at his court appearances and helping gather paperwork and maybe even having to testify sometimes, having to adjust to shifting dynamics within the house and the daily routine when he's gone and then having to shift again once he's out... it's all exhausting. There's no actual relief there, just an endless cycle of bad and worse and bad and worse. At least he can't hit mom or lock Steph in the closet, yes, but his shadow is always there (probably calling every chance he gets to complain and/or demand money for his commissary). And given how he's shown to react to being put away in the first place, I don't think it's a stretch to say he probably takes out his anger at Batman and authority in general on his family. It's like they're unwitting secondary antagonists in Steph's life -- constantly poking the dragon, but never actually slaying it. It's no wonder she'd be in favor of locking criminals away forever and throwing away the key... or just ending them straight-up, because they always break out in Gotham anyway, don't they? I think it's a little more ambiguous regarding her feelings on reproductive rights. As far as I recall, we're never actually shown how she feels about abortion in general. We see her lash out angrily at the very idea of termination when it comes to her own pregnancy at least twice, yes... but that's also, from my experience, a pretty common reaction, even among some people who whole-heartedly believe in a woman's right to choose. Some women can't bear the thought of going through with that themselves -- just like some women can't bear the thought of carrying a baby to term, even though they have no problem with other people making that choice. We also see her lash out at some friends at school for acting like her having a baby is cool because she gets to miss school and gets a lot of attention... which is fair, because that's a childish way of looking at it. It's completely dismissing the actual stress of being a 15-year-old who's visibly pregnant and obviously going through a difficult time. She expresses that she thinks her classmate who kept a baby was stupid, which is in line with the rest of her conversation with these girls. Unfortunately, that doesn't really tell us much about what she actually thinks her friend should have done. Put the baby up for adoption, like Steph does? Or terminate the pregnancy? What does Steph think about the choices of other women? We just don't know, other than that she obviously doesn't think being a teen mom is cool at all (though she will waver on that a few times, as she struggles with her own desire to keep her baby -- once again, absolutely understandable).

Obviously, we can't really divorce the writing from the writer entirely. But, from an IC perspective, even if Steph is actually anti-choice, I suspect her feelings on the matter are rather complex. As far as I'm aware, we've never seen any sign that the Browns are religious in any way. That doesn't mean they're not, because quite a lot of people hang onto religious sentiment passed down through generations while not actively worshipping, but we have no reason to believe Steph would have a religious motivation for her conservatism. However, I think it would be fair to speculate that her own experiences may give her strong feelings in that direction. Her father was outright abusive, and her mother was detached -- unreachable and unsupportive -- for much of her childhood. How often must Steph have felt like an unwanted child?? Locked in a closet by Arthur because he didn't want to see/deal with her, and not let out for god-knows-how-long by her mother because Crystal was too stoned to notice she was gone? Invisible. Unwanted. Unloved. Did she wonder if her parents wished they had aborted her? Did she wonder if she would have been better off if they had?

Some people do have that reaction to their childhood abuse experience. Some people come to the conclusion that it's kinder, better, not to bring a child into the world if it's only destined to suffer. But other people may feel differently about their experience, and I think Steph is one of those. She's always been one to rage against the dying of the light. Though the question may have occurred to her, I don't think she would have concluded that "yes" was the answer to "would I have been better off if I had never been born". We've seen that part of her reaction to her own abuse has been to become protective over other children. To Steph, the idea of a child being unwanted, like she may have felt, may be horrifying, yes. But I suspect that the solution, to her, is to give that child a life where it is wanted. Even if it can't be with her. And aborting that fetus would be the ultimate gesture of abuse and neglect and rejection -- something Stephanie Brown just cannot abide from herself, at the very least. And I wouldn't be surprised if she felt that way about other potential mothers, as well.

People who want to argue that Steph isn’t or shouldn’t be written as being innately conservative and committed to imprisonment as a punishment and source of retributive justice confuse me.

Steph. The character who has multiple storylines revolving around her frustration that people don’t get the punishment they deserve. Who has a written history of being failed over time and hurt because people didn’t punish people who committed crimes around and to her.

Who has a repeated tendency to punch male characters for upsetting her (Arthur Brown, Tim, Tito, Dean).

Who has writers as diverse as Chuck Dixon, Jon Lewis, Mariko Tamaki and James Tynion exploring this in their writing of her?

Steph mentally sides with victims and seeks to give criminals what she thinks they deserve. She puts herself in those shoes pretty often in her perspective: she originally went after her father because she was mad he was getting away with committing crimes; she sided with and was completely derailed from hero work by the question of whether her work as a vigilante had value – because it caused problems punishing criminals – by the Victim Syndicate; who gets mad over the concept of criminals getting extra chances to reform when they’ve proven themselves to be recidivists in opposition to other Bats like Bruce’s optimism that people can change (Arthur, frequently; also Harvey Dent in One Bad Day).

This is a beat that gets used often, for Steph. It’s imbued in a lot of her characterisation. Just because you like a character does not and should not mean that you have to agree 100% with their perspectives and politics, and vice versa.

[trevorsgodmother]

𝓘 𝓼𝓽𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝓭𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓶 𝓸𝓯 𝓱𝓮𝓻…(C.S 🌧)-pt. 2

ALL PARTS Warnings: Angst, CRYING, denial, heavy descriptions, mentions of accident, yelling POV: Third person/first person(Chris) Summary: Y/N's been gone for so long...but Chris still isn't used to it

It feels like he’s been laying here, with her, for years. Chris looks down at his girlfriend, smiling. But the sight of her eyes filling up wipes the look off his face. His heart clenches as he hugs her tighter, hoping his warmth will sooth her. 

“Babe…what’s wrong?” He asks, concern filling his features. She locks eyes with him, and sobs, burying her face into his chest.  “Chris…stop doing this. Please. STOP” He flinches at her hurt and accusatory tone. Anxiety fills his stomach as he tries to make sense of her words. Stop doing what? 

“What’re you talkin-” “Stop dreaming about me. Please.” His face crumples, and tears begin to sting his eyes too.  “I can’t-” “Why?” She chokes out, gripping his shirt like a lifeline, more to help ground him than her. “I just-” Chris’ breathing picks up, his eyes overflowing. He doesn’t want to wake up and lose her again…

“I don’t want you to go...”

"You need to Chris. For you. For me. Go find a new girlfriend or something" Her voice breaks even suggesting this. He didn’t want to. He never wanted to move on. It would feel like he was being unfaithful, since they hadn’t broken up before she died. It had been a freak accident on the highway, one he felt guilt for every day of his life. Chris tries to convince himself that it's only his subconscious trying to help him. But it's her face, her voice, her smell, her... everything, and he feels awful for doing something he can't control.

A smile forms on her wet face as she lifts a hand to brush away his tears. “I only want you, not anyone else.” He’s almost pleading. For her to come back, into his arms, both their happy places. “I’m not there though Chris…” she whispers softly. His body shakes with silent sobs, holding her tighter as if it’ll change everything and this time, he’ll wake up with her still there.

“I don’t want to go on- I miss you so much-” “Do you want me to stop coming at night?” Her words make him freeze. He’s clinging onto her like a scared child, almost to a point of desperation.

“No- no, please don’t. Don’t leave me-”

(Chris' POV)

I jolt awake, head pounding as I feel a hand on my shoulder. I look up to see Matt and Nick, the prior being the owner of the hand, the latter with tears in his eyes. “Chris… are you ok? You were crying so loud” His words make me wince, guilt hitting me right in the stomach. My body couldn’t tell the difference between my dreams and reality anymore, so the emotions I felt in my nightmares sometimes came out in my sleep.

I cover my face with my hands, letting out silent sobs. I couldn’t bear to see my brothers so upset. Because of me. I shake my head, the dream still so clear in my mind. A part of me just wanted to sleep forever, to escape this world just so I could see her again. “I’m sorry- I just- I just miss her” I let Matt hug me, feeling like a broken record because of these increasingly realistic night terrors. “We need to stop these dreams…” I instantly recoil at my brother’s mumble. I shake my head harder than before. It felt like everyone was suddenly telling me to stop. “No, I don’t want to.” My words are firm, but my voice wavers. Matt’s expression softens.

“Chris, they’re destroying you. Besides, you know it’s not actually…her, right?” Nick’s in the background, wiping his eyes. I nod slowly, my eyes filling up again. It’s like I had an infinite supply of tears, I always had enough to cry. The dreams had become a way for me to cope, and the thought of the emptiness I would feel if I didn’t have them made me sick.

(Third person) “I know, but- But I still want to see her, even if it isn’t really her. I don’t care…” Matt’s patience reaches its limit. Yes, he felt horrible for his brother, yes, he would never know what he felt, yes he was suffering, but-

“Chris” He snaps. He’s tired of it. Anytime they’d come up with a solution, it’s like the youngest triplet would shoot it down just for the sake of it. Which of course wasn’t the case. Chris flinches at his tone, suddenly quietening down and fiddling with his blanket. Matt’s gaze softens and his shoulders droop at the sight. Nick is standing there, shocked that his brother just yelled at their younger one. “We’ll be right back” Nick murmurs angrily, grabbing Matt’s arm and dragging him outside. Chris only hears half the berating and cursing Nick directs towards his older brother. He just lays back down, not wanting to hear anymore fighting, and tries to go back to sleep.

But he can’t. After countless minutes of tossing and turning, his brothers having left to go back upstairs, he sits up and grabs his phone. This was another definitely unhealthy coping mechanism, but he doesn’t care anymore. He tries to veer off his usual path of clicking into the photo’s app, ping-ponging through different socials that had been long abandoned. He grows frustrated of the no-longer entertaining doom-scrolling, and gives in. As the pictures load, he navigates onto the home screen and clicks on her album.

(Chris' POV)

She’s grinning in all of them, some alone, others with me and friends. I scroll through each picture, my face softening at the familiar face and smile I’d loved for years. I spend a little more time studying pictures of us two, grabbing on each other, laughing, kissing, enjoying being with each other. It was hard to accept the fact that she was no longer here, that the life in the pictures had been taken away from her and was slowly being drained from me. I pause on some pictures she sent me a week before the accident. She’s posing in some of her new clothes, looking proud of her purchases. So vibrant and energetic, a light overshadowing everything else in the room. A fresh wave of grief washes over me as I swallow a sob. She looked so happy…

I try swiping more, but to my horror, I can’t. That’s it. A beautiful life on her own, a 3-year friendship with all three of us, then a 2 year relationship with me, all narrowed down to just a few hundred photos. The finality of it all hits me hard, the full realisation that I’d never take another picture of her, get daily outfit pics, make more memories. She was gone and this was all I had left. The last pieces of her, and it would never be enough. It hits too hard.

I don’t realise that I’ve started crying again until Nick runs back in, my mattress dipping under the weight as he hugs me to his chest. I melt into the hug, cries increasing in volume now that I was being comforted. I grip onto him tightly, as if letting go would mean he disappeared too. I know I don’t show it enough, but they’re the only things grounding me now. My sobs slowly begin to subside, though a few still escape here and there as I try to catch my breath. I grip onto Nick just a little more, needing contact. After a moment, I manage to speak with a rough and broken voice. “I- I’m sorry.” Nick hated hearing me apologise.

“Shhh, don’t say sorry, we’re not mad.” “Are you sure?” I ask quietly, looking up with tired, teary eyes. “Yes. We can’t be. And we never will. None of this is your fault, ok?” I just nod, my lips trembling slightly as I try to swallow down another sob. Deep down, I know what happened isn’t my fault, it was just a horrible misfortune. But I can’t help the guilt that eats away at me, for surviving when she didn’t, for going on with life when hers was cut short in an instant. I look back down, the weight of it all making my head feel fuzzy and heavy.  

Nick interrupts what was about to be another downwards spiral. “Me and Matt talked…and we want you to sleep in one of our rooms again. Not every night, and only if you want. It doesn’t matter who’s. Or we could sleep in yours? Do you want to do that?” I’m a little quiet for a moment. The thought of sleeping in the same room as someone else, for the first time in 3 months, was a little daunting. But it would be comforting and help me feel less alone at nighttime. My voice cracks, and Nick’s face lights up in shock and slight excitement as I speak.

“Yea…I think I’d like that.”

A/N: Extra long bc I felt bad for leaving this for two weeks. I already have the last sentence of the last part planned heehee Taglist: @hearts4werka @stvrnzcherries @m00nl1ghts1vt @spaghetti835928383 @pvssychicken @moonlightsturns @snowysosturn

Don't steal MWAAAHHHHH Dividers by @bernardsbendystraws <3 -Ropitipop 👁👅👁

[sissylittlefeather]

A House That Has Everything: Chapter 4

A/N: This one came to me when I saw these amazing AI photos on Instagram made by @blackvelvetep and @_chiara975ep. (Be sure to check out their pages on Instagram!) My fic brain went crazy and this storyline was born.

Summary: Set in Regency England, Mr. Presley is the gentleman who owns and resides in Graceland Manor. Annabelle Martin is his newest maid after her parents have died and left her an orphan. Can he resist his affection for her, despite the difference in their social class?

Need to catch up? Masterlist HERE.

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, smut and angst, p in v sex, unprotected sex, sexy thoughts, and some kissing

Word count: ~2.5k

“Bella…”

But it isn't enough.

******

In order to take his mind off of Bella, Elvis leaves for a week in London to settle some estate business and spend time with his friends. When he sets out, all of the staff gather to see him off. Annabelle stands with her hands folded and her eyes on the ground. She's afraid if she looks at him, she'll blush or maybe even pass out cold. He slows down as he passes her, trying to catch her eye, even though he has no idea what he would do if he did. And then, just like that, he's gone.

In the carriage, his mind is consumed with thoughts of Bella refusing to look him in the eye. It's probably good that he'll have some time away. He can't handle another temptation and giving in would ruin them both.

******

In London, Elvis behaves as he usually does, gambling and drinking and generally acting completely unbefitting of his station, but the club he frequents is private and used to this kind of thing from gentlemen from the country.

After a bare-chested boxing match with his best friend Jasper, he finds himself in a perfumed bed in the arms of one of the women who works in the club. She provides a certain service to men who married for expectation rather than romance. Elvis has been with this kind of woman before on his trips to London, but this time he finds himself with a unique problem. The woman, called Bridget, runs her hand over his chest and sighs.

“Is there something on your mind, love?” She coos, her hand drifting down even further. Elvis stops her without thinking and purses his lips. The answer is yes, his mind is filled with Bella and he almost feels like he's being unfaithful here in this bed, but he knows that is absurd. He shakes his head, insisting that he's fine, even though his soft cock gives him away. “You've already paid, love. So why don't you relax and let me help you?”

She leans in and presses her lips to his softly. He closes his eyes and tries to sink into the kiss, but an image of Bella floats up behind his eyelids and he pulls back, almost gagging.

“I can't. I'm sorry.” He lays flat on his back and stares up at the ceiling and Bridget sighs again.

“Who is it that you're in love with?” Her voice has changed from her seductive whisper to one of matter-of-fact conversation.

“I'm not… what? No, that's not…”

“Are you afraid I'll tell your secret? You know what I am.” He turns and looks at her. She's right. No one would listen even if she did try to tell anyone.

“My maid.” He looks back up at the ceiling with an exasperated sigh. “She is the most exquisite creature and I haven't been able to rid my mind of her.”

“Does she feel the same?”

“I don’t know. We haven't… there is only longing. I think she may, but I only know my own heart.” Bridget clicks her tongue and runs her fingers through his hair almost out of habit.

“You poor miserable thing. With only your money to comfort you.” There's an edge of bitterness to her voice.

“I'd give it all up to have her.” He whispers. She softens and turns his chin to look at her.

“Then you have to tell her.”

“I cannot.”

“Then you don't deserve her.” He sits up almost angrily.

“You don't understand. You are free to love whomever you choose. I am bound by obligation to marry someone of my own class.” His eyes are burning and his nostrils flare.

“I couldn't love you.” She says it flatly and understanding settles on him. “But if I did, I would tell you. Love has no thought for the boundaries of society. It gives and takes as it sees fit.”

“Then what do I do about it? Wait for it to pass?” His pain is so genuine that she has a hard time dismissing it.

“Will it?” She cocks her head to the side a little.

“I don't know. I thought it would but here I am in this conversation with you.” He closes his eyes and she puts her hand on his cheek.

“Elvis, will you tell anyone that you were here with me?” He opens his eyes and looks at her, not sure where she's going with this question.

“No.”

“Then why couldn't she be your secret instead of me?” Something akin to hope flickers in his chest. She's right again. Why couldn't Bella be the secret he keeps from the world?

“I hadn't thought of that.” Bridget smiles and runs her hand down his stomach.

“Most of you never do.” She wraps her hand around his flaccid member and then whispers. “Tell me about her.”

Elvis's mind races as he thinks of Bella: her beautiful hands and the cupids bow in her lips that he wants to taste so badly. As more images of her appear in his mind, he hardens and Bridget begins to pump him.

“She's the loveliest woman I've ever seen, dainty and feminine but with a fire and strength I've only ever read about. Her hair is raven-dark and her eyes are deep blue.” He moans softly.

“Good. Close your eyes and keep going.” She strokes him with a little more pressure as his eyes flutter shut.

“She has the sweetest voice and her body…” He whimpers when he thinks of her perfectly round breasts and the curve of her hips under her skirt.

“I'm her. How do you want me?” All of a sudden, it's no longer Bridget's hand on his cock, it's Bella's, and he gasps a little.

“Fully and completely.” Bridget moves herself over his hips, rubbing the tip of him through her folds as he whimpers. “Oh, my Bella.”

He groans as she sinks down onto him and then starts to move. With his eyes closed, he sees Bella, her beautiful body naked, her face rapt with pleasure. Bridget sighs as she fucks him to completion and he moans and whispers Bella’s name with his eyes tightly shut.

When he finishes, he opens them and wants to cry. She's not Bella. Not even close. Bridget sees his expression and kisses his forehead.

“Tell her, Elvis.” He nods silently and pulls away from her, standing to dress himself.

Back in his own bed at the inn, he lays on his side and ignores the tears that slide down his nose. The sick feeling in his stomach makes it impossible to sleep, but he closes his eyes anyway.

******

Annabelle walks through to the kitchen and finds Mrs. Hall in a tizzy.

“What is it?” She asks curiously.

“Mr. Presley will be home this evening. We've just received word that he's on his way.” Annabelle's heart skips.

“He wasn't due home for another three days!” The thought of having him back in the house makes her weak in the knees.

“I know, but he apparently finished his business in London more quickly than he expected. Chop these carrots for me, love.” Mrs. Hall gestures to a pile of carrots on the cutting board and Annabelle goes to work silently. After a few minutes, Mrs. Hall notices her wordlessness. “You seem distraught that he'll be back.”

“Oh, no, I just… am surprised.” She stumbles over the words, embarrassed at being caught.

“Mmm. I was right, wasn't I?” Annabelle pauses her chopping and looks at Mrs. Hall. “There is something between you two.”

“No. There cannot be.”

“Ah, but you'd like there to be.” The older woman smiles knowingly and Annabelle sighs.

“There cannot be.” She repeats it to herself as much as to the cook.

“Love does not care where it cannot be. Now, give me those before you lose a finger.” Mrs. Hall takes the knife and goes to work chopping the carrots herself, dismissing Annabelle to get lost in her thoughts on her own. When she disappears through the door, Mrs. Hall smiles and begins to hum. It'll be good to see her boy happy again.

******

Despite his early return, Annabelle doesn't see Elvis for another couple of days. She goes about her work nervously, secretly praying to see him and afraid to see him all at once. One day Mrs. Davenport notices that she's finishing her work quickly and adds another task. She's to dust several of the rooms in the house every afternoon. Annabelle thinks nothing of this as she begins to work, moving from room to room, but as she approaches the drawing room, she stops dead in her tracks.

Someone is playing the pianoforte. And not just playing it, but playing it beautifully. Curiosity overwhelms her and she pushes the door open carefully. It's him. He's bent over the keys and as she watches, he begins to sing while he plays. His voice is the smoothest baritone she's ever encountered and it makes her heart leap in ways she didn't think possible. She also feels that familiar warmth between her legs and tries to close the door slowly, but it's a heavy door and it closes with a loud thunk. The music stops and she turns to make her way down the hallway quickly but he pulls it open before she gets too far.

“Bella! Wait!” He calls out to her as she slips into the library. When he enters, she's furiously dusting everything she can see, trying to ignore the growing blush on her cheeks and the way her center moistens under her clothes. “Are you hiding from me?”

She stops and takes a deep breath, turning to face him. Somehow, he's even more beautiful than before and it takes everything inside her not to go to him and pull him in close to her.

“No, of course not.”

“You ran away from me.” Elvis is a little hurt that he hasn't seen her. He came home specifically to talk to her and his resolve has melted more and more each day. Still, his encounter with Bridget is heavy in his mind and some determination lingers.

“I'm working.” At that moment, she bumps a porcelain knick-knack and it hits the floor, breaking into several large pieces. “Oh, I'm so sorry, sir.”

He sighs and then walks over, bending down to help her collect the pieces.

“Bella, I thought I asked you not to call me ‘sir’.”

“I'm sorry… Elvis.” He smiles and takes the broken pieces from her hands.

“That's better.” They both stand up and he sets the broken object on the end table. For a second they just stare at each other again. All of a sudden, his nerve is lost and he has no idea what to say. She's just about to turn away when he blurts out. “Do you like to read?”

“I do. More than anything.” She answers him quietly.

“Novels?”

“Some. Mostly poetry.” He can't help but smile widely as he walks to a shelf and pulls down a book.

“Have you read this?” She walks closer and looks at the volume he's holding.

“Wordsworth? I love Wordsworth.” His face is one of complete adoration and he tries desperately not to sweep her into his arms.

“And then my heart with pleasure fills–”

“-And dances with the daffodils.” She finishes the line he started and he nods. They continue this exercise through three more books before he pulls a tiny book of poems from his breast pocket.

“What about this one?” He hands it to her and she holds it, noticing all the dog-eared pages and notes in the margin.

“No, not this one.”

“It's yours, then. My favorite is on page 42.” His heart is racing when he thinks of what he's scribbled there, but in this moment he's so full of love for her that he doesn't even care if she sees it. He wants her to see it, needs her to see it.

She looks at him with her heart beating loudly in her chest. It's a book of love poems. Her hands tremble slightly as she turns to page 42. There, at the top, in his handwriting: For my Bella.

He steps closer to her as she reads, the blood thick in his veins, rushing everywhere but his brain.

The fountains mingle with the river

And the rivers with the ocean,

The winds of heaven mix for ever

With a sweet emotion;

Nothing in the world is single;

All things by a law divine

In one spirit meet and mingle.

Why not I with thine?—

See the mountains kiss high heaven

And the waves clasp one another;

No sister-flower would be forgiven

If it disdained its brother;

And the sunlight clasps the earth

And the moonbeams kiss the sea:

What is all this sweet work worth

If thou kiss not me?

She looks up at him as she reads the last line and he's so close she can feel him breathing. Her chest rises and falls quickly and his eyes flit down to her lips. She's afraid she might faint as he reaches out carefully and takes her cheek in his hand.

“What is all this sweet work worth, if thou kiss not me?” He whispers the last line. Her eyes flick between his and then down to his mouth as he moves toward her painfully slowly. She should stop him, but she's frozen on the spot.

Finally, his lips graze hers so softly that it's barely a kiss. But he doesn't stop there. He kisses her again, with a little more pressure, his lips parted with his tongue cautiously moving ever-so-slightly, but he doesn't taste her yet. Not until the third kiss, when she drops the book of poetry and throws her arms around his neck. He wraps himself around her waist and dives in fully into a kiss so deep and so intense that they both get lost below the waves of it. Their bodies are pressed together and their tongues move in a symphonic dance and they both forget to breathe. After what feels like an eternity, but isn't nearly long enough, they pull apart breathlessly. He tries to press his forehead to hers, but she backs away.

“Elvis, I can't.”

“Bella, please–”

“No. I'm sorry!” Her voice is heavy with tears as she turns and runs from the room.

“Bella!” He yells after her, but she's gone. He bends down and picks up the book of poems and then turns and throws it at the wall. Sinking into a chair, he runs his hands in his hair and tries to hold back the tears. He looks up at the ceiling as they start to fall and whispers. “Bella, please.”

She stands on the other side of the door, her body wracked with sobs as she weeps uncontrollably. When she hears him whisper her name again, she drops to her knees.

“Oh, Elvis.” She whispers it like a prayer, her hand on her heart as she rocks back and forth in agony.

******

What will happen next?

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist:

@ahundredlifetime @claire-elvisgirl @ccab @atleastpleasetelephone @aliypop @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @tacozebra051 @your-nanas-house @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @louisejoy86 @rjmartin11 @from-memphis-with-love @deltafalax @cinnamoroll-things @burnthheparaphilia @jhoneybees @cattcb @everythingelvispresley @returntopresley @searchingforgravity @msamarican @angschrof @lustnhim @polksaladava @librababe99 @hooked-on-elvis @theelvisprincess @makethemorning @peaceloveelvis @mrspresley69 @pxpresley @kxnnxy

[butlervibesonly]

HI GIRL! Omg I love all of your fics and I would love you to write something about Austin arriving from filming, and reader welcomes him at the airport after being separated for so long. She eventually makes some kind welcoming party or smth! PLEASE AND THANK YOU! 💗

𝐹𝑖𝑛𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 ℎ𝑜𝑚𝑒 | Austin Butler

• NOTE: Hi and thank u! 🫶🏼 What a wonderful idea and I had so much fun writing this! Also for the rest of y’all; my requests are open and I welcome every idea!

• PAIRING: Austin Butler x female reader

• WARNINGS: like a lot of fluff, and slight flirting in the end

You are at the arrival terminal, watching people pass by. Austin is arriving today after being away for two months, filming. It’s almost impossible for you to say how much you missed him, how much those two months felt lonely without him.

You take a look at the board to see the planes arrivals as you finally see that Austin’s plane has landed. You feel the excitement tingling through your body, can’t wait to hug him tightly again. Standing up from the seat you walk closer for him to notice you.

When people start to walk out with suitcases and bags your heart starts to beat a little faster, knowing you’re about to see Austin soon. You check every single person just to make sure you don’t miss him walking by. And how could you miss your boyfriend passing by?

Your eyes land on him - he’s wearing sweatpants and hoodie. He always wears something comfortable when traveling. When Austin’s eyes find you, his face immediately switches to the biggest smile you have seen. His eyes lights up, sparkling with excitement.

You can't take it anymore and you run towards him. As soon as you’re near you jump into his arms, wrap your legs around his waist, not caring about who's looking at you or who recognizes Austin and you, or not. “Oh baby, I missed you so much.”

Austin breathes out, wrapping his arms around you tightly. You hide your face into the crook of his neck and smell in his cologne. Oh, how you missed that. “I missed you too a lot!” Your fingers caress through his hair, kissing his lips.

“Baby, you had absolutely no idea - I was like tortured being without you.” Austin says, cupping your cheeks as you stand down again. “You tell me that, the house was so empty without you and I felt like the loneliest person alive.” You make Austin smile and he hugs you again.

“Don’t worry, I will not leave you again, not for a long time,” Austin presses a kiss on your lips, so softly and gently. It feels like a heaven to feel his lips kissing you again. He takes your hand in his, grabbing his suitcase. “How was your flight?” you ask, walking towards the entrance of the airport.

“Exhausting! I felt like the time wasn’t even moving as much as I counted every minute until this moment.” he explains, holding your hand more tightly. “Let’s go home now, shall we?”

“Definitely.” you smile at him as you guys walk to the parking lot, where Austin’s car is. He left his car keys to you, so that you can travel while he was gone, and as much as you love driving, you enjoy being his passenger princess.

You give him the keys, and Austin opens the car door for you. “Ma’am,” he gestures and you nod gladly. It’s such a wonderful feeling to have him back. You are used to Austin being away, but two months has been really challenging for both of you. You normally travel to the filmings with Austin but due to your busy schedule you decided to stay at home and wait for him to come back.

“I have a little surprised for you at home.” you say as he starts the engine. “Oh do you?” he smirks. “And what is that little surprise, honey?”

“I won’t tell you! If I do, it wouldn’t be a surprise no more..” you say jokingly, and watch Austin steering the wheel. His hands look so good being all muscular. You missed him way too much. Even tho the both of you FaceTimed each other almost every night, the feeling of going sleep with an empty side beside you was the worst.

“Y’know I missed you that much I was falling asleep hugging your pillow? It smells like you and I couldn’t help.” you say all of sudden and Austin glances at you. A smile appears on his lips. “Sounds like something you would do, honey.”

“But that’s not all. I might or might not stole one of your shirt to sleep in…” you admit shyly. If you love something it’s definitely sleeping in his clothes. You love it since day one actually - when you slept at Austin’s place for the first time before the two of you bought your own house, you forgot your pajamas and he offered you one of his shirts.

“Well, I hope it was not my favorite white one?” Austin raises an eyebrow, his sight on the road again. You chuckle “Umm… Would you be mad if I’ll say yes?”

Austin laughs, his hand landing on your tight. “Of course no! How could I be mad at you?” At that you just smile. As the two of you drive home, enjoying the embrace of each other even in silence.

As Austin pulls up to your home, you bit your lip, trying to contain your excitement. He steps out of the car, opens the door for you again and takes out his suitcase. “Close your eyes, baby,” you say, taking Austin’s hand and he follows you up the path. You unlock the door, taking a deep breath to steady yourself before gently pushing it open.

You slowly lead him to the living room that is joined with kitchen and he opens his eyes. As soon as he notices the balloons, his eyes sparkle with gratitude. “Welcome home, love,” you say softly,

His face lits up, a slow smile spreading as he turns to you, eyes filled with almost tears. “You did all this… for me?”

You nod, your cheeks flushing. “I wanted to make tonight special. You’ve been away for so long, and I’ve missed you like crazy.”

Austin sets his suitcase down and pulls you into a tight embrace, resting his chin on the top of your head. “You didn’t have to… This is perfect. More than perfect, Y/n. Thank you.”

“Wait, there’s more, actually,” you warn him, grinning as you pull away and lead him towards the dining table. “I actually made you your favorite meal, bought some wine…”

Austin laughs lightly, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’ve really thought of everything, haven’t you?”

“Well, you deserve it,” you say, your voice soft. “I know how hard you’ve been working, and I wanted to remind you how much I love you.”

Austin sits down, and you pour the wine to his and your glass. As you prepare the food, Austin follows you with his eyes, his heart melting from the fact he’s finally back home. And home is where you are with him.

“There you go,” you pass him the plate and he looks almost mesmerized. “You know a way to man’s heart, baby.” Austin chuckles and you both start eating.

The night passes in a mix of laughter, food that you made, and quiet, stolen moments. You talked for hours, talking about Austin’s filming, the weight of the distance that separated you melting away with each passing second.

“This is exactly where I want to be,”Austin whispers, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Home. With you.” he takes your hand in his. “But I would still like to enjoy some things I missed so much while being away.”

“And what is that, honey?” you ask, smirking. Austin smiles with the biggest grin. “I want to enjoy you,” he smirks and you know where he is leading to. “I missed you way too much, sweetheart, and now that I have you all for myself, I will not leave it just like that.”

[sunoostripletriple]

The other side of the moon y.jw ff

/ᐠ. .ᐟ\ฅpairing: Enhypen Yang Jungwon x Reader

/ᐠ. .ᐟ\ฅgenre: fluff, a bit suggestive, plot twist?! (maybe)

༊*·˚♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡

Synopsis:  After a long awaited moment you finally get to see your one and only true love. The person you've been anticipating to see so desperately has finally come to see you.

It's been a while since you finally got the chance to sit down and look at the beautiful night sky. The full moon shining so brightly right at you. 

You feel a sudden rush of sadness, as you reminisce about the dates you've had with your boyfriend, who is now away for an important business trip. 

He’s been on the trip for almost 2 months, and you still have to wait for him to come back for another 5.

Having a boyfriend who is an idol gets you worried, often wondering about what would happen if people were to find out that you guys were together. This thought had you going through so much overthinking ever since you guys got into a relationship. But no matter what, Jungwon always reassures you, saying that his fans are the nicest people he has ever come across, and that even if they find out you're both together no one can split you guys up.

You suddenly remember that Jungwon, your boyfriend recently wrote a new song for their upcoming album and decided to listen to the demos he sent you.

Hundred Broken Hearts

Oh, how you missed his sweet, sweet voice. The more you listened to the song, the more it made you want to desperately run into his arms and give him the sweetest kiss ever, letting him know how badly you have missed him.

Moonstruck

Listening to this song had you blushing from the beginning till the end. You can't help but imagine how far you and Jungwon have gone in this relationship. You can't even lie and say that it has you giggling and blushing like a little girl at some parts of the song.

After listening to the song demos, you couldn't help but send a message to your significant other. 

“I miss you so much, love.”

“Please come back soon.”

You know it's a bit early in the country where he is right now. Even if you message him right now, it would probably take him hours till he can finally reply back to you. However, it seems like fate has other plans for you, and soon your phone starts to ring.

Bzz bzz bzz

The phone continues to ring, making you check to see who is calling you at this late hour.

“It’s Jungwon!” You say. Smiling and answering the phone call from your boyfriend.

Phone call [jungwon]

You: hey babe!

Jungwon: Hey honey bunz. I missed you!

You: why are you up so early? You should sleep more!

Jungwon: I couldn't stop thinking about you all night, I couldn't even sleep a wink. You hear him chuckle on the other side.

You: hey! I can hear laughter, you know. You say pouting. I’m just worried you haven’t got the rest you need, with that hectic  schedule you guys have with that tour. 

Jungwon: Don't worry babe, I’m doing just fine. You know I’m a strong guy so don’t stress about it, okay?

You: Fine.. if you say so.

Jungwon: anyways!! I wanted to call you since I wanna just spend my day off talking to my one and only love and talk about how we met.

You: I was literally just thinking about that too!

Jungwon: Remember that one time at the park? Where we first met?

You: Yeah, and please don’t remind me. I looked so ugly that night. You even had to see my ugly crying face.

Jungwon: Oh please! You looked beautiful! If anything, me seeing you that night was when I first fell for you.

Jungwon: You could say that it could have been ‘love at first sight’

You chuckle at his response.

You: I had mascara running down my face and you’re telling me you fell for me that same night?

Jungwon: Mhmm. He hums. I really did!

You: Stop lying. You protest back. 

Jungwon: Anyways let's move on from that.

You: Actually, I’m thinking of going on a walk to that same park right now. Should I?

Jungwon: Sure! Whatever eases your mind, cutie. 

You: Let me get ready and I’ll call you again when I get to the park.

Jungwon: Alrighty then. Stay safe and make sure to look left and right when crossing. I love you

You: yes mother. I love you too.  You say jokingly as you end the call with Jungwon.

You put your phone down as you walk over your dresser to put on one of the hoodies that was given to you by your boyfriend. “This should keep me warm enough.” you say as you also put a beanie and sneakers on to complete your look.

“I’m so glad the park is only a few blocks away from my place.” you say with relief as you cross the empty street towards the entry of the park. “I should probably call him again.” and not even a few seconds later your call was answered right away.

Phone call [jungwon]

Jungwon: Did you make it safely?

You: Mhmm. You hum softly. I’m by the playground where we always hang around.

You: Wishing you’re right next to me right now.

Jungwon: Just keep wishing then maybe it’ll come true.

You giggle at his silly suggestion and walk over to the swings near the bench you guys first both met. 

You: Maybe I will. You say as you sit yourself on the swing.

Jungwon: Baby.. 

You: Yes?

Jungwon: You know how badly I missed your voice? Your touch? Your kiss? And the way you play with my hair? I missed your everything so badly my love.

You: Me too, love. I miss you so much.

Jungwon: I bet the moon looks just as beautiful as you tonight my love.

Unbeknownst to you, someone, not far from your current location is looking your way and adores how you look at the moon just above you. A sweet and fond smile forms on his lips showing his cute cat-like features.

 You: Saying that while you’re not next to me is just a crime you know. A pout forming on your lips.

A snicker is heard between the trees not far from you causing you to turn your head. You pay no mind to it as you realize you might have just imagined it.

Jungwon: You know each and every word I say is the truth and nothing but the truth. I wouldn’t say something I don’t really mean and you should know that by now. 

You: You win this time, Yang Jungwon.

Jungwon did his best to stay hidden, crouching behind the trees with all the stealth he could muster. He squinted at the lamppost in the distance, watching Y/N pace back and forth as her voice echoed faintly through the phone pressed against his ear.

Everything was going smoothly—well, until the mosquitoes decided to crash his little stakeout.

A couple of them buzzed around his face like tiny, winged nuisances, one especially bold intruder hovering dangerously close to his nose. Jungwon froze, scrunching his face in a valiant effort to hold it back. But the tickle was relentless.

“Achoo!”

The sneeze erupted, louder than he intended, startling even the crickets. He froze, his eyes wide with panic as Y/N’s voice cut off mid-sentence.

“Wait... Was that—” Y/N paused, tilting her head. “Did you just sneeze on the phone? Or… wait, was that from the trees?”

Jungwon mentally facepalmed, realizing his sneeze had betrayed him not once, but twice.

“Uh... bless me?” he mumbled weakly into the phone, but Y/N was already walking toward the lamppost, her curiosity piqued.

“Jungwon?” she called out, stifling a laugh as her eyes scanned the darkened trees.

From his less-than-perfect hiding spot, Jungwon let out a resigned sigh. “Stupid mosquitoes,” he muttered under his breath, preparing to come out before he made an even bigger fool of himself.

“Surprise?!” Jungwon jumps up with both hands mimicking a Peek-a-boo like pose.

You end the call that was still on-going on your phone and wrap your arms around him.

“I missed you so much” You say as you place your hand on his cheeks looking up at him from his chest.

“So much for a cool surprise am i right?” he laughs as he places a soft kiss onto your plum lips. Oh how he missed the touch of your lips right up on his and how long he has waited to finally see you and feel you right up on his arms once again.

“Just as I mentioned earlier. You’re just as beautiful as the moon tonight my love.” he says before continuing on with giving you the most passionate and heart melting kiss you’ve ever had your whole life. The sweet taste of cherry with a mix of strawberry from both yours and Jungwon’s chapstick just couldn’t explain how much you both have been wanting this moment to never stop. A slick of saliva comes out as you both slowly pull away to take a break as you both try to catch your breaths.

“Why are you here?” you ask as you finally realized that your boyfriend who’s supposed to be in America is now back in Korea right in front of you. “Weren’t you supposed to be in America right now with the boys?” you continue to ask.

“I lied and told them I’m homesick and that I’ll join them again in 2 weeks” He chuckled knowing how you’ll probably make this into a big deal.

“What do you mean join them again?? You guys are on a tour, Jungwon wouldn’t you get in trouble when they find out you only came back to see me?” You say as you bombard him with a series of questions not even letting him interrupt you.

“What are you saying, y/n? You are home. You’re my home.” he says as he pulls you by the waist for another hug whilst giving you a small peck on your temples.

You blush at his actions and just lay on his chest as you comfortably feel the beat of his heart slowly rising. The sound of his comforting humming sounds just like a lullaby and you can never explain how much warmth it gives. You slowly lose consciousness as you lay next to your lovely boyfriend knowing nothing is ever going to separate the two of you till the end of the world. 

“Wake up! Wake Up!!” you feel a weak push on your side. Not wanting to wake up, you turn around and ignore whoever is trying to wake you up.

“I said wake up! Wake up, alweady!” the small figure next to your sleeping body grows frustrated as you show no signs of wanting to wake up.

“If you don’t wake up right now, I’m going to tattle on daddy.” the little girl sulks both rosy cheeks puffing out in annoyance.

Just from the word ‘daddy’ got you opening both eyes wide open in shock. “Daddy?” you repeat. “Yeah, Wonnie papa.” the little girl says.

“Daddy said I should wake you up since we're going on a twip today!” the girls exclaim in excitement. 

“Ahh is that what daddy said Yeonie?” you ask your daughter.

“Yup!! I hope we’re going to lotte world today! I’m so excited mommy!” little Yeonie says as she jumps on the mattress. “Well you should get ready then so we can head out soon, alrighty sweety?” you give Yeonie a kiss as you lead her back to her room.

You sigh as you realize the dream was all just a flashback from 3 years ago. The same occurrence happens once every full moon. It's like a little recall on the most heartfelt moment you’ve ever had in your whole life.

“Honey, are you in there?” you hear a familiar voice and a knock on the bedroom door. You open the door not to only see your husband but also your first and last love. Yang Jungwon.

༊*·˚♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡

a/n: sorry for not being able to post for awhile pooks. If I'm being honest I did unfortunately lose the motivation to write for awhile and due to my work schedule i haven't been able to do much on this app;-;;;. I've also had this ff in my drafts for awhile now and haven't been able to finish writing it until now so I hope you guys will love this one.

taglist: @velvetkisscs @random-potat @yoizhrs

[rosewoodcafe]

You're Losing Me

I can't focus so here is this little one-shot story.

After years of being with Sebastian, he has only descended further into the Dark Arts, driving away Ominis and Anne, leaving only you. It's becoming too much to handle as he is still desperately searching for a cure.

Sebastian x Reader

[This is based off of You're Losing Me by Taylor Swift]

[I plan to do more stories like this because it was incredibly fun]

I sat in our home in Feldcroft. He had been gone for hours, saying he was at work but I knew better than that. I knew he wasn't cheating, Sebastian was a better man then that, but it still felt incredibly empty without him here.

My body was hollow, a feeling I had started to get used too, which frightened me tremendously. I blew out the candle that lit our dining room table, taking the two untouched plates of food to the kitchen sink. Everything felt empty, my motions, my thoughts, everything I did, I was so alone in this world.

The door to our cottage opened as I was walking to our bedroom, his silent approach being the only thing to halt me. Without a word he planted a small kiss on the top of my head, walking to the other room where his office was and shutting the door behind him.

I washed up, cleaning my body in the warm water. Eventually making my way to our bed, the one we used to be curled together in every night, laughing like little kids. I curled up the same way I used too, holding onto the shreds of happiness in this hopeless home.

Ominis warned me of this, that his obsession of the dark arts would overtake everything else he cares about. He warned that the murder of his uncle would only be the beginning, that sending him away would be the only option. I refused, telling him that Sebastian was a good man, that he could change. Ominis, for Anne, and my sake, didn't turn Sebastian in. Sebastian was grateful, but Ominis was right, the obsession didn't stop.

I felt the tears roll down my face as I pressed it into the pillow. The weight dropped on the other side of the bed, not even a touch to signal he was there, but I knew it was Sebastian.

The morning came and with it the usual hollow feeling. I pulled myself from bed, heading to the kitchen.

"I love you." Sebastian said sleepily. His hair was a wreck, but he looked happy upon seeing me too.

"I love you too." I said back, barely above a whisper.

He didn't say anything else, just looking at me happily. The sun shined through the window, casting a glow across his bare upper half, he was beyond handsome.

I walked out into the kitchen, making myself some tea.

I wished I had someone, anyone, who understood what I was going through. To understand who Sebastian has become. The only ones who would have long since contacted me, opting to keep out of his way.

I remember how he was when I met him, how full of life he was. How excited I was. Everything felt perfect, he was happy, we were finding a cure. It was some fantastical dream, but instead of staying bright and beautiful, its changed, becoming dull and gray from wear.

Out the window I saw our neighbors, recently engaged, gardening under the sun. Sebastian had told me we would get married, with a wonderful wedding that I would love. He promised that before we were twenty he would as me. We were nearing twenty four, and I can't understand why. The cure was his excuse at first, that Anne needed help, but Anne has long since died. Anne has been dead for years, leaving Ominis to grieve alone as Sebastian refuses to accept her death. I felt as if I am a ghost, haunting his home until he gets rid of me.

His arms wrapped around me. Sebastian's face in the crook of my neck.

"You look lovely dear." He whispered.

"Thank you." I replied blankly.

Sebastian went about the kitchen, preparing himself food as I stood there unmoved.

"I will be out at work for awhile." He eventually said.

"Ok." Is all I could muster.

"Don't wait up, I probably won't be home for awhile."

"Okay."

When he left I felt nothing. I paced our home, recounting the memories we made here early after we left Hogwarts. The happiness that lifted this home has long since gone, but it filled my mind daily.

I laid in our bed, letting myself weep for myself, all the moments and memories. I needed to do something, I needed to get out. He tried so hard before to keep me, and he had, for years I stayed by his side. But I couldn't help but think that he was losing me from the moment he cast the torture curse on me. The pain from that was miniscule compared to the years of heartbreak I had experienced. I am getting tired, tired of always bringing myself to my feet, tired of trying to feel okay when I feel like dying.

I needed top get out.

Parchment was in the desk of his study, along with quills. I would write to Ominis, tell him that he was right, that Sebastian had gone too deep, that he had gone to a place I could not follow anymore. I barged into his office, tears flooding my eyes as I scrawled the letter. 

Dear Ominis,

I write to you not as a way to update you on Sebastian, but to let you know that it has ended. I have given up hope for him. For years I have been trying, trying to get him to move forward, to stop indulging in the dark arts. But you were right, he has only gone deeper into madness. I don't know what to do, I am lost and broken beyond repair. 

I hope when this letter finds you that you prepared for the wickedness Sebastian may unleash. He may accuse you of manipulating me, by telling me to leave, know that you did not, and that this decision was one I made entirely on my own. I hope to forgive Sebastian one day, to have a love with him that I wished so badly for, but for now I must leave. I will surely die by my own hand if I stay.

In a few hours I will arrive at your home, where I hope you will not turn me away. I have lost everything, and will only need a moment to get my bearings together before being out on my own. You are the only other one to understand my predicament Ominis.

Your dove

I folded the parchment and walked over to the owl, tying the parchment on and opening the window, sending the owl out. It would be an hour until the note has arrived at Ominis's home, and a few hours after that before Sebastian came home. I ran back to our room preparing myself to leave.

Washing up and putting on traveling clothes was the easiest part, packing the things that meant most to me was harder. Memories of Sebastian and I's past flooded my thoughts, endless streams of tears leaving my eyes. I couldn't handle this, handle how I let it get this bad, why didn't I leave when it started to go downhill?

Why did I hold so much hope for him to change?

I couldn't answer.

My heart felt dead and cold. Every crevice of my body devoid of color, a void of nothing behind the masquerade of a person. 

I sat at our kitchen table. One last time.

He opened the door some hours later. Sebastian didn't notice my trunk, and he barely noticed me at all.

"You're up still?" He asked, a bit of shock seeping into his blank tone.

"I am."

"Why?"

I took a breath. 

This would probably be the last time I see him. 

He would hate me.

"I'm leaving." I said standing up and walking to my trunk.

"What do you mean you're leaving?" He asked, the blank tone leaving and only a panic replacing it. "Where are you going?"

"I'm leaving us Sebastian." I took a breath, trying to keep my voice calm. "I'm leaving you."

His face dropped. 

"No darling, you can't please I cant lose you-" He cried out.

"You already have Sebastian!" I yelled out, my calm composure leaving and the same tears I had tried to hide fell.

"No I haven't! You're all I have left! Please everyone else has left you can't leave too!" He pleaded. He dropped to my knees, holding the bottom of my skirt.

"I can't stay Sebastian."

"Why? Please give me a reason?"

"You couldn't even tell that I was dying as you kept meddling in the Dark Arts." I said angrily. "I feel like I have lost everyone and everything because of your choices, I am lost and angry. I have been waiting and waiting for you to just say that you want me, that you want us to move on, that you want a family. I just wanted you to want me!"

"I do! Darling I do want you, more than anything."

"It's too late Sebastian. I've made up my mind, and I can't keep wasting away what little youth I have left begging you to change." I felt hot tears stream from my face.

"Please, I need you." He begged.

"You'll be okay." I reached for the doorhandle, looking back one more time. Sebastian was on his knees, tears welled in his eyes. "Perhaps one day, we can be together again."

"I'll always find you." He said. "I'll become better for you."

"You haven't. That's the problem." I spoke, opening the door and taking in the air from outside. This would be the last time I stepped into this house, the last time I spoke to him. "I love you Sebastian."

"I love you too..."

With that I shut the door, pulling my trunk and myself to the Floo station in Feldcroft. I let the tears stream as I heard a guttural scream come from our- no, his home. I had to keep going, I had to keep moving. I pulled my floo powder out, taking a large handful.

"Gaunt Manor!" I said clearly.

I felt my heart begin to beat again, the pain beginning to ease at the new beginning I was given.

[qhazomb]

so some recent art by @we-cool-beans reminded me of this one "sharing a body" au i've thought about.

i've talked about my other one where it takes place post-canon, with the temporary body-sharing happening in order to save gordon from a life-threatening disease he developed (likely from all that radioactive raw sewage...), but this is one that takes place during canon.

(this is using my headcanon that benry's true form is just a big glowing cloud of rainbow cosmic energy containing a consciousness).

after gordon's hand gets chopped off, and then benry realizes humans cannot in fact regrow limbs, he's not exactly jazzed over the fact that he got gordon perma-fucked up. he's also not a big fan of the fact that he can't un-fuck him up. benry doesn't know how to make someone else's body regrow limbs, just the body that he's in!

....so then he gets the idea "oh i'll just pop into gordon's body to fix it, then."

so benry abandons his own body somewhere (not important, he can just make a new one later), and slips into gordon's when everybody's asleep. when he gets there, he originally intended on just fixing gordon's hand and then leaving, but holy shit this guy is a LOT more beat up than benry thought. this hev suit's kinda sucks at being armor, huh. there's new wounds that are looking pretty rough, and benry also notes evidence of old injuries that don't look like they healed the way they're supposed to. he's got a looooot of work to do.

when the science team all wake up, they're all extremely surprised to see that gordon is no longer down a hand. the others of course make light of it, but gordon himself is feeling a weird mix of relief and what the fuck over the fact that he just... regrew a limb. like a fucking lizard or something. the rest of the team try coming up with theories on why this happened- "Perhaps the hazardous materials you've been swimming in have given you mutant powers!" "Are you sure you're actually human?" "Maybe Black Mesa's been secretly experimenting on you without you knowing it."

gordon of course does not like any of these theories.

at one point gordon gets a cut on his hand, an sees that his blood is a LOT darker than it should be, which freaks him out further. and then, again, when that cut heals up pretty much right before his eyes, he's not sure if he should be thankful or freaking the fuck out over it.

gordon also doesn't like the fact that benry's been missing again for A While, which normally he'd be thankful for, but given the current circumstances, it's putting him extra on edge.

gordon finally finds out both why he has a hand again and where benry went when he has a big emotional outburst... that's accompanied by sweet voice.

"I didn't know you could use the Black Mesa Sweet Voice, Gordon!"

gordon insists that he can't, and his panic is rising as more coloured orbs spill from his mouth (which tommy comfirms means gordon is panicking. bubby makes a comment like "Yeah, we can tell.")

it's then that benry, who has been just been staying quiet the whole time, finally speaks up in gordon's mind. "hey, calm down maybe?"

obviously this just freaks gordon out even more, albiet in a different way.

when gordon says he can hear benry in his fucking head, there's definitely some jokes in there from the team about gordon hearing voices now/being haunted again, pff.

eventually benry's able to explain himself (the best he can, at least). he's in here because gordon couldn't heal that good on his own, and benry couldn't heal him without being in here. and he's staying here because gordon's weak lil baby human body is just SO easy to break, like damn, so benry's gotta stick around to make sure it stays put together. he's the maintenance man, now.

gordon of course HIGHLY objects to this, but it's not like he can force this weird cosmic energy being out of his body.

(and though he's not saying it out loud, he does appreciate how all his usual aches and pains have been completely gone ever since benry started this "maintenance" work.)

gordon does at least get benry to agree to get the fuck out of him once they're all out of black mesa, though.

and then through the rest of their journey, understandings happen, and bonding happens. i've imagined one point where gordon is feeling Overwhelmed with Emotions and having a bad time because of it, when benry tells him to just, sing it all out with sweet voice. gordon begrudingly does so, and then... actually does feel better afterwords. turns out sweet voice is a really good way to get Big Feelings out. huh.

now the thing that we-cool-bean's art specifically reminded me of, is when they get to xen. benry obviously isn't here to be the big bad final boss, thus the nihilanth is still kickin' around, and proving to be just as dangerous as xenrey. during the fight, benry gives gordon a lil power-up: RAINBOW DEATH MODE

(gordon doesn't get freaky shape-shifting like benry does when in RAINBOW DEATH MODE, he just gets glowy. there's extra orange in there as that's gordon's life energy colour signature!)

i picture gordon getting to land the final blow on the nihilanth, managing to get up on its head, prying open that noggin' to expose the crystal... but then being unsure what to do next.

benry yells in his mind "song of death at it!"

"How do I do that!?"

"just think about how much you wanna kill this guy and SING!"

the 'singing' that comes out of gordon's mouth sounds less like the angelic theramin notes benry sings, and more like death metal screaming, but hey it gets the job done all the same!

in the end, even after benry's vacated the freeman, it soon becomes aparent that gordon is... not entirely human anymore. having benry spend so much time hanging out within him, and then giving that RAINBOW DEATH MODE boost at the end fully cemented gordon's own connection to the cosmic ether, which is what sustains benry. now it's sustaining gordon, too.

...aaaand gordon's gonna need some lessons on how to keep from spitting out sweet voice when he gets a bit too emotional while in public :B

[ashblooddragons]

La Danse Macabre (Chapter 2/?)

Series Masterlist

119 ac

Rhaenyra’s pov

I sit next to the herth with Jace and Luc watching as they play with their blocks and wooden dragons. Jace was always independent so it is no surprise he is playing alone only occasionally letting his brother join. But my little Luc? Well he must always be near me, he's a Mama's boy through and through. Always crawling after me, handing me toys hoping it will bring a smile to my face. I've tried to leave him but the Nursemaid's say he only wails and screams for me to come back. 

He truly is my little boy. Which only reminds me how the little girl I've always dreamed of, always wanted, I can't connect. 

I can't explain it, I want to. Oh do I want to, what Mother doesn't want to bond with their child? But I just can't. 

Each time I look at her I remember all I've lost. Especially when I think about how I lost Alicent. 

Now that I'm older, wiser, I know she didn't have a choice on whether or not she could visit my Father. He is the King, he asked for her and she couldn't say no. Gods I can't even say no so why did I think she could? 

I lied to her, used the fact we both lost our Mother’s so she would believe my lies. I still can't believe I did that, I pray to any gods nightly that my Mother would forgive me for using her name for my lies.

But the moment I know I truly lost her, lost my best friend, the one person I felt saw me, was the day Jace was born. She knew, I know she did, anyone with eyes would know. I had a son that most definitely wasn't Laenor's. I slept for pleasure with a man after I gave her pretty words and soft kisses. I did what my Uncle did to me, I did the thing I swore I would never do to another, to the person I hold most dear. 

And for that alone I can't blame her for her anger, her rage. 

It is a wonder to me how she still holds my little girl so dear. Mayhaps because she wasn't born out of lies and broken promises, but of duty like Alicent did with all of hers.

I regret turning to Harwin, I was drunk and sobbing when he knocked on my door to see if I was alright. I don't remember who made the first move, who kissed the other first. All I do know is one moment I was telling him all my woes and the next I was riding him like my life depended on it. I can't say I regret it fully, I got my little boys out of it, but there is a part of me that wonders if I still would have if I did what was right and lay with Laenor when we needed to. 

I'm snapped out of my thoughts when the door opens and Laenor walks in laughing with a squealing Valaena in his arms. 

“We're back!” He exclaimed as he lifts our daughter off his shoulders where she is pulling his locks like and rests her upon his hip. 

I smile at our girl's laughter, at how Laenor looks at her. I know it's different to how he looks at the boys, and I don't blame him for it. That is our little girl, the boys are mine. 

But then I frown in confusion when I take in his state of dress. Riding leathers, smell of sulfur, surely he didn't. I think before I notice Valaena is wearing her little pink riding leathers too. 

I let out an annoyed sigh. “Haven't we talked about taking her on rides? I thought we agreed that we would tell the other at least before taking her.” I say as he sets her on the ground so she can greet me. 

He gives a sheepish grin before shrugging. “I saw her in the gardens with the Queen, as I figured she would be from what you told me this morning of our girl's plans. And she kept begging for Seasmoke, I mean she was in tears before I told her we could. She twisted my heart with those eyes of hers.” He says in mock fury towards our daughter who only giggles before kissing my cheek.

I can't help but chuckle at his words, Valaena had him wrapped around her little finger since she was born and she knows it. “You shouldn't give in so quickly, I was getting worried she was gone longer than Alicent told me.” I say seriously as I wave a Maid over telling her to get a bath ready for Valaena. 

“I'm sorry, I told a guard to tell you where I was taking her. They must have forgotten or gotten busy.” He responds truthfully before kissing my brow. 

I frown at his words, most knights would listen to the future King Consort, so why didn't this one? 

“Who did you ask?” I say as I untie Valaena's little riding boots. It never ceases to bring a smile to my face when I look at how small her shoes are. They fit in my hands but in her hands they seem perfectly sized. It only reminds me how young she is, how the court has yet to sink their claws and teeth into her fragile heart. 

“Harwin, he was coming back from a patrol with the City Watch. He said he would tell you.” He says picking up a whining Jace. 

I feel rage fill my heart at those words. It is not the first time Harwin kept something like this from me. If I ask him to find Valaena he always comes back saying he couldn't. But when I or Laenor go to find her it takes no time at all. I have noticed his scowls and disdainful looks towards my daughter but played it off as tiredness. Mayhaps I should rethink my relationship with the Knight called Breakbones.

“I will speak to him when I can, will you watch the boys as I clean our daughter so she doesn't smell of dragon during dinner?” 

Laenor nods taking the spot I had just sat playing with Jace and Luc. 

Once the warm water is poured into the brass tub I set Valaena inside as I go to pick which oils to use in her hair and bath. 

“Do you want jasmine or vanilla?” I ask putting them under her nose, letting her pick between the two. 

“That one!” She exclaims pointing at the vanilla vile. 

I pour a little into the bath before filling the dropper and letting drop after drop into her hair. I then use my fingers to make sure all of the oils are in her hair before taking a wooden cup and leaning her head back.

“Close your eyes, Darling I need to rinse your hair.” I say when I notice her pout as I stopped her from playing with her wooden toys.

I gently rinse her curls taking in how long they are when wet. I know her hair was long but everytime I wash it I'm blown away how long it truly is. 

“Good, now we need to wash that stinky skin.” I say putting my brow to hers and scrunching my nose to make a silly face. 

I take the bar of lye soap with jasmine petals and oil infused, and lather it against a wet rag before rubbing said rag along her arms. 

“Did you have a good flight with Papa?” I ask, wiping a bit of ash from her brow. 

“Uh-huh, he went really fast and did the dracarys.” She responds excitedly. 

It's moments like these, where it's just the two of us that I feel like I can actually connect with her. But usually something takes my attention, the boys are the largest culprits of this. Especially Luc, unsurprisingly. 

“Oh? Did he now?” I ask, hiding my chuckle when I hear Laenor curse under his breath about how he should have told Valaena to not tell me that part. 

“Yeah, we even went through it!” She says spreading her arms out like wings pretending to be like Seasmoke. 

“Well how else are you to fly when there is dragon fire? Around it? No, where is the fun in that?” I respond smiling when Valaena nods her head like what I said is the smartest thing to be spoken in all the world. 

Once I know she is all clean I pick her up out of the bath wrapping her up in a warm towel before heading towards her chambers. I thank the gods I have such a large apartment, I already have to put Jace and Luc in the same room together. Any more children and I'll need to get rid of the suller. 

Once I set her on the bed I turn towards her wardrobe deciding which dress she should wear. I've narrowed it down to three. 

The first is a red dress with onyx, gold, and rubies along the neckline. It's similar to a dress I own myself but I know I won't be wearing it tonight so that is now out of the question.

The second is a purple dress that my Father, her grandsire gave her a moon ago on a whim. It has silver embroidery in the shape of dragons along the long sleeve and hem. But what truly makes it breathtaking is the diamonds encrusted along the collar and hem of her sleeves. It would be lovely at a ball but for a dinner, it is too much.

Finally, I hold up one Lord Corlys gave her. It is a dusty blue and beige dress. It has golden dragons embroidered along the hem of the short sleeves and hem of the dress. It has pearls and small sapphires sewn into the neckline. It is lovely, and extravagant like a Princess and heir to the throne should be. But at the same time, it is simple enough for a dinner with family in a quiet seller. 

It's perfect.

I quickly dress her making sure nothing is wrinkled before moving to her hair. She keeps wanting to move so I finally give her my necklace to look at. It's her favorite, it's the one her father gave me. A silent chain with a diamond-encrusted seahorse. It was a gift after we were wed, a symbol of our shared house now. And in return I gave him a dagger with the Targaryen symbol on the pommel. 

“Are you ready for dinner, my love?” I ask once she is all ready. 

But sadly the only response I get is a nod as she wiggles in my arms as she stares at Laenor. 

“Papa.” She whimpers out catching his attention and he walks over to us taking her in his arms. 

I didn't want him to, I never wanted him to take her from my arms, to take our special time together. But she's a Daddy's girl, always was, so she will always turn to Laenor before she turns to me. I know it is wrong but I feel resentment towards Laenor because of that. I carried her for nine moons, I was in labor for thirteen hours birthing her. And yet he is his favorite? 

Mayhaps that is why I chose to be with Jace and Luc more? To protect them yes, bit because they want me and no one else. 

I watch mournfully as Laenor carries Valaena out of our apartments. Her chattering in his ear a mile a minute. More than she ever does with me. Maybe I'm not cut out for daughters, or maybe that dark, helpless place never left me after she was born? Maybe I just think it is now that Jace and Luc are here? Maybe that's why I can't connect with my daughter, because I haven't been able to find myself again in a long while.

Special thanks to my bestie @sugutoad for making the header for this fic! I swear I'd be lost without you girly!

TAGLIST: @sugutoad @ilikefelines @mmogurl @classicsimpforaaronwarner @sachaa-ff @themoonlitquill @thelastemzy @athzhowakar