#how can one hear their soul in the voice of one whom they do not know?

[funkylittlebats]

For the music ask thing!!! 23 and 30!!!!

Music ask game

23. A song you think everybody should listen to

Ooh okay I have a lot of answers for this one so I'll go with the one that I think the smallest amount of people have heard already which is Don't Call Me In The Morning by Josh Fix

30. A song that reminds you of yourself

Okay that one's a lot trickier. Honestly my instinct is to say there aren't any but I guess if Forced to choose I would go with Deeper Than The Holler by Randy Travis. I always thought it was a beautiful song when I was younger and now that I'm older (though not that much) and my heart is even more full of love, I resonate with it even more.

[aliteralsemicolon]

Yours - 18+

Masterlist

Spencer never thought he’d be lucky enough to find you, but he has. You have all his devotion and all he hopes for in return is for you to let him stay yours.

Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

DISCLAIMER This story contains strong themes and detailed descriptions of adult content. It is intended for mature audiences only, minors do not interact!  You are responsible for the content you consume. Make sure to read all necessary warnings. Please remember this is a work of fiction; if you don’t like it, don’t read.

WARNING: Smut: softdom! Spencer, grinding, hickies, penetration, PinV, unprotected sex (this can lead to babies & stds btw, avoid this by being fivehead and using a condom), creampie. Proceed at your own risk.

Word count: 5.3K See notes at end for authors note & spoilers.

The question regarding the existence of soulmates is not a question that can be answered using science. Any individual’s answer to the question is more of a personal belief than a factual answer. And as a man of science, one would think that Spencer Reid would at least attempt to refute the ideology when asked. 

The ideology that he himself is not whole, but only half of an intertwined soul. That another person is not only his other half, but also his better half. Somebody with whom he shares such a natural, deep understanding, that he feels complete simply by existing in their presence. It’s one of those phenomena he can’t explain, but only this one, he’s confident is true. 

“Spence?” A light nudge accompanied by the whisper of his name breaks him away from his thoughts.

“Hm?” He blinks rapidly, focusing his eyesight on your curious face with a matching look.

The light from a singular bedside lamp only reaches half of his face. It casts a beautiful, soft contrast on his sharp features. The gold that’s usually hidden by the brown makes his irises look like sparkling pools of honey. Ethereal -not a word you would use when normally describing a man- but that’s how he looks. 

“Do you believe in soulmates?” 

He hadn’t ever thought he could believe in such a thing. Mostly because he’d always been sure that he would never experience it. 

“Do you?” His voice carries your question back to you. 

You can hear the city buzzing outside. Cars honking angrily in a futile attempt to speed up the pace of the traffic. People conversing, arguing, laughing. Loud thuds of music from the upstairs neighbour who cares little about the piling noise complaints. Somehow, the hum of Spencer’s words is the only sound that your ears register. 

“I asked first.” You playfully scoff, breaking eye contact and swivelling your head straight.

Spencer mirrors your motions, both of you now facing the ceiling as you remain side by side on his bed. 

“Yes.” His answer is barely above a whisper. 

It seems that your bodies want to make up for lost contact. You can feel his pinky reaching out to touch yours as you meet him halfway. 

“Me too.” 

A comfortable silence takes over the conversation. Everything feels still. The only movement is that of his fingers grazing against yours. He’s touched you in far more personal places tonight alone, and this is still one of your most intimate moments. There are no expectations or hidden agendas. This is simply the two of you existing in each other's presence; his preferred way to exist. It stretches until another inane question makes its way to the forefront of your mind.

“Do you ever wonder if you’ll get to meet them in this lifetime?” 

He pushes his frame up and rotates to face you as he sinks back down to the mattress. His head rests on the arm folded below it. You turn your head back to him so that you’re both holding eye contact again. 

“No.” He mouths the answer, his voice hesitant to raise at first. “I wonder whether mine is a romantic bond or platonic.” 

Your stomach flutters at the insinuation and you shift to mirror his position this time. In the midst of shuffling, the two of you seem to have closed a good chunk of the distance between you. 

“What do you want it to be?” You whisper, entranced by his gaze. 

Two of his knuckles lightly skim your cheek before those fingers brush your hair away from you. The act alone is enough to make your face heat up, no matter how many times he’s done it before. He begins to lazily stroke your hair, scratching your head in the process. It gives you the same tingling sensation you get from some rare ASMR videos. 

You don’t follow up on your question, unable to remember anything that was on your mind beforehand. His touch, combined with the minimal lighting and close proximity provides you with a sense of security you rarely feel otherwise. Your lids begin to grow heavy and you're forced to break eye contact when the weight of them becomes too much. 

“That’s really distracting y’know.” You mumble, eyes closed and voice hazy. 

“I know.” He mutters, almost without sound. 

He can’t help his smile as he watches you drift to sleep. He’s studied every feature on your face at least a hundred times and he’s yet to find a single flaw. The fact that you’re okay with being this vulnerable with him is a privilege that he’ll thank any and every deity he doesn’t even believe in for. Faint snoring indicates that you’re now dead to the world, but he can’t let your previous question go unanswered. 

“Whichever one allows me to be yours forever.”

Waking up to the warmth of your body pressed against his is by no means a recent development in your relationship with Spencer. Your back is to his chest and his arm is draped across your stomach, trapping you against him. Not that you mind. You’ve been lying still as you are for almost a while now, your thumb caressing the side of his wrist. With a yawn nuzzled into your neck, Spencer attempts to pull you closer to him, closing distance that was never there to begin with. 

He can feel the rise and drop of your chest; you can feel the beating of his heart behind yours. Neither of you is fully awake yet, opting to enjoy the silence and comfort of the other's presence. Your bodies are so closely tangled that your skin is almost melding with each other. 

Almost. 

The unexpected brushing of his hardness against your ass sends a jolt of electricity passing through you, waking you up in an instant. If it were anybody else, perhaps you would’ve felt ashamed of how that passing moment made your insides jump. You definitely wouldn’t have arched your barely clothed cunt towards the obstruction. A sharp exhale fans across the back of your neck, and you can practically feel the corners of his lips pull into a lazy smirk. 

“Well, good morning.” A groggy voice leans into your ear and the grip on your belly tightens.

“Morning.” You breathe out, barely audible.

You feel yourself clench around nothing when a hot, sticky kiss lands just behind your ear. Your arch intensifies when another one lands below your jaw and you unintentionally grind against him. It earns you a low grunt from him, which only prompts you to repeat the motion without thinking. His head drops in the nook of your shoulder, taken slightly off guard. He meets you halfway the third time, and it sets both your hips in a slow motion of rubbing against each other.

He can hear you hum each time his confined erection strokes your bundle of nerves and it sparks a determination in him to get more out of you. His hand trails from your abdomen to your pelvis, stopping just at the band of your underwear. He tugs the fabric, not making any further moves until you allow him to. You know that if you don’t take control now he’s going to prolong his foreplay, something you don’t have the patience for right now. He always makes it a point to make you finish at least once before he even considers himself. 

Out of the four times you came the night before, three of them were with his head between your thighs. You can’t even count the number of times you’ve teased him about how he probably gets off on pleasing you more than you do. You surprise him when you grab his hand and push it away from you, swinging yourself around to straddle him. Your hands land on either side of his head and you lower your forehead to rest against his. 

“Nuh-uh!” You taunt and it makes him snort. 

His palms trace your sides, arms wrapping around you, pulling your torso down to him.

“You’re not allowed to touch me this time.” You add in a hushed tone.

“No?” His brows raise in amusement.

“No.” 

You barely breathe out the word when his arms drop from around you. A slight chill takes over the area.

“No!” You repeat in a whiny tone, pushing yourself to sit up. 

You’re looking down on him from this angle, and God, does he look beautiful. His fluffy, sleep-tousled hair frames his face beautifully, the faint light of the rising sun only adding to the sight. 

“That’s not what I mean and you know it!” 

“I don’t know. You need to be clearer with what you want.” He chuckles. 

“I want you to stop being a little shit.” You retort, reaching for his hands.

You attempt to settle them on your thighs, but he removes them again. 

“I’m not allowed to touch you. Remember?” He emphasises the word allowed on purpose.

Both of you know that he’s the only one allowed to touch you and vice versa. Even if it wasn't something you both agreed upon, you’d never let anybody else touch you like him. If they even knew how to.

“You can touch me.” You roll your eyes, pulling his hands back to your skin. “But you can’t fuck me with anything other than your dick.”

Your curt tone doesn’t surprise him. He’s used to your boldness. Using your hips, he pulls you down onto his bulge completely. You don’t anticipate the sudden friction and it takes everything in you to not topple over on him. Spencer wasn’t prepared for the impact of his actions either, his head lolling back as he hisses sharply. 

“Yeah?” He questions through half gritted teeth. 

He’s painfully hard and the current view isn’t helping. He can clearly make out the shape of your curves under your flimsy t-shirt. How it drapes on the apex of your breasts, how the hem pools just above your thighs. His grip tightens against the plush of your skin. 

“Mhm.” You breathe out, eyes fluttering as you keep your core pressed to him. 

“Words, sweet girl. Use your words.” His breathing is laboured and it’s taking all of his willpower to not rut his dick back up against you.

The praise breaks you. You can no longer hold yourself up, falling into his chest. 

“Please fuck me.” You can only whisper in his ear, sending chills down his spine. 

He groans, grabbing you by the waist and flipping both of you around so you’re the one lying on the bed. It seems that he’s become just as impatient as you, if not more. He captures your lips in a deep, demanding kiss as he tugs his boxers just enough for his length to spring free. His tongue swipes your lips, seeking entrance and you grant it to him. He finds your kisses addicting. It takes an incredible amount of willpower to break them, but he does, sitting up on his knees. 

He parts your legs, placing one on either side of him and yanking you closer to him. You squeak in response, not processing the action until your cores are once again pressed together. You sigh when he pushes your panties to the side and runs a finger up your slit. A satisfied hum escapes him when he learns just how aroused you are. You sigh when runs his tip against you next, lining himself up with your cunt and pushing just the tip inside. Each of his hands intertwine with yours as he moves them above your head. He then leans in and plants a feather-light kiss on your cheek. 

“Like this?” He whispers in your ear.

He pushes in a little more and pulls out just enough for him to stay lined.

“More!” You whine, breathlessly, brows furrowing from anticipation.

“Mhm.” He doesn’t properly acknowledge your desperation and instead latches onto the skin under your jaw, sucking gently. 

You sigh at the sensation, arching more as his shaft pushes in again. This time, he doesn’t stop until he’s completely bottomed out. You moan and squeeze his hands, still intertwined with yours above your head. You never expect how full he makes you feel. Spencer squeezes your hands in return, still reeling in from how well your cunt accommodates him. He takes a minute, resting himself inside you to allow time for both of you to adjust to the feeling. 

He releases your skin with a small pop and moves a new spot on your neck. You think about how you’re going to have to use concealer to hide the marks he’s surely leaving behind and it makes you clench around him. The effect on him is instantaneous, a harsh groan vibrating against your throat and he sucks harder. The sound only makes your walls tighten more and it cues him to start thrusting. 

The initial pace is slow, but calculated; the kind that makes your joints loosen and jaw slack. He takes the opportunity to capture your lips in another long and consuming kiss. A loud moan ripples out from both of you and your hands deepen their hold on each other. Spencer’s not shy about letting you hear how good you make him feel and that drives you insane. 

Your hands instinctively try to reach for his hair, but he’s pinned you down tight. You whine into his mouth, pressing your fingers between his knuckles. Your whine fizzles out into a series of smaller whines when his hips speed up, hitting that sweet spot with every thrust. 

“Mm–Spence–mmph–”

You try to break the kiss to speak, but he simply drops a quick kiss on your jaw before reclaiming his place against your lips. He’s too lost in the taste of you to pay full attention. It takes you a moment to find the willingness to try again, but you do. You arch your hips too high for him to be able to follow from this position, forcing him to slip out from you and try to remove your hands from his grip. His focus is brought back to you and he lifts himself back on his knees, releasing you. 

“What’s wrong? Have I hurt you?” 

“M-mm” You shake your head and push yourself up on your hands.

You then shift into his lap, draping your arms around his shoulders. He gives you a curious look, wrapping his arms around your waist. 

“I want to be able to hold you.” You admit with a slight shyness in your tone.

A light smile spreads across his face, brows arching in surprise. Being a genius and all, he’s always known he was needed in some way or another. You’re the first person who’s ever made him feel wanted, truly wanted. With no motive other than simply existing with him. It sparks a new desire, one you see light up behind his eyes. He leans into your lips, his hold on your waist tightening and he moves one arm to cradle the back of your head. 

You pull yourself flush against him, wrapping your arms around his neck as your tongues dance together once more. He lifts you up and places you back down against the mattress, mouth never leaving yours. You feel his palm raise one of your legs by the back of your knee and he’s entering you again. He rests that leg on his shoulder, while the other hangs by his waist and begins to build an unrelenting pace. 

You wail into his mouth at the intensity of his thrusts, eyes rolling behind closed eyes. It’s almost brutal, the way he’s slamming into you. Your hands desperately cling onto his bicep and shoulder, nails digging into the skin. His grunts and groans increase each time he gets deeper, if that’s even physically possible and it only makes you desperate for more. Your kiss breaks with a slight sting against Spencer’s lip. You didn’t realise how hard you were biting it in an attempt to stay grounded. 

There’s a shift in the atmosphere that you can’t explain. Even though Spencer was railing you so hard that even the bed had begun to cry out, there was an overwhelming sense of longing between you two. An ache to express how you belong to the other, hidden behind an uncouth sight. It’s compensation for those lack of words, a physical exchange expressing your biggest secret. He’s everywhere; your current position has you feeling Spencer in places you didn’t deem possible. 

His mouth works over whatever exposed skin it can access along your jaw and throat, leaving goosebumps and bruising stains in its wake. His cock is driving into you so fast that you swear it’s going to imprint on your walls. There’s a fire in you, one that only he can put out. Every inch of him can be felt within every inch of you. Now you’re truly melded with each other. 

“Fuck–oh my God!” You scream out, your nails digging harder into his flesh. 

He’s consuming all of your senses, at this moment you don’t know anything other than him. Eyes open or closed, all you can see is his sculpted face. You’re drowning in his scent. Melting at his touch. The taste of his kiss still lingers on your tongue. Your ears are flooded with the slaps of his skin meeting yours and your mixed moans and grunts. 

“Spen–fuck–gon–fu–cum!” 

He hasn’t even spared your ability to speak. With a short kiss, he brings his forehead back to rest on yours in a firm manner. 

“Me too, pretty girl.” He pants his sentence in broken pauses. “Me too.” 

He secures the leg on his shoulder from the back of your thigh and then brings the other leg on his other shoulder. It gives him room to drive himself deeper and makes you lose all control, every joint in your body threatening to fall limp. Your face contorts and you bite your lip, trying to control the flurry of screams. It results in high-pitched whines forcing their way out. 

“Spencer! I can’t–I can’t–I can’t” 

You can’t hold on any longer. 

“I know. I know.” There’s barely any voice accompanying his words. “We’ll do it together, okay? Where do you want me?”

“Inside–inside–ins-shitshitshit…” 

“Inside? Inside.” He struggles to keep himself together while talking you through it. “Ready?” 

You nod fervently and he steals one long, final kiss from you as he finally empties himself in your spent cunt. Your own orgasm crashes through in a long passing wave. You feel like you’re floating in the ocean with millions of stars as your only view for miles. He follows up with a few final thrusts, burying himself as far in you as possible. 

When you finally come to, Spencer’s pulled out and is lying right next to you. Peppering kisses over your face in intervals and muttering praises as strokes away hair glued to your face. 

“Did so well.”

“So good to me.”

“I’m so proud of you.”

For some reason, the water always feels nicer running down your body when you use Spencer’s shower. He’s a simple man; he doesn’t really have a lot of products to use besides the basic shampoo, conditioner, soap, and body wash. The exfoliators, masks and such were your initial additions that he keeps topping up after they run out. 

You haven’t said much since coming out of your euphoric state, only showing your gratitude and appreciation through small touches. Brushing a hand against his cheek, leaving a peck on his shoulder, wrapping your arms around him in a hug. He doesn’t mind your silence. It doesn’t deter him from showering you with praise while he looks after you. You’re so disorientated that you’re letting yourself be guided from one instruction to the next. 

“Lift your leg for me, sweet girl. Hand on my shoulder.” 

He helps you act out his command, grabbing your wrist and draping it on his shoulder while helping you lift your leg. His touch is tender, but he’s careful to cover every area with body wash. 

“Good girl.��� 

You don’t physically react, but his approval makes you swell with pride. Sex is the least intimate part of your time with Spencer. What you really enjoy is how safe he makes you feel. You know that even if you show him your worst and ugliest moments, he won’t reject you. You trust him with parts of you that you barely trust yourself with. 

Anybody who’s touched your naked body before him doesn’t matter, because not one of them has gotten to touch it past the realm of physical pleasure. To you, the act of washing one’s body is so private, so sacred that it can’t be trusted with just anybody. How many are able to look past the lens of sexual release and view your skin and bones as something to cherish? Not even you can claim to view yourself in such a precious way. 

But Spencer does. 

Even as pats you dry and wraps you safely in a warm towel, he doesn’t demean your worth. They’d be thoughts he could easily keep hidden in the comfort of his own mind, but the thoughts simply don’t occur. You don’t realise how long the two of you are standing there, leaning into each other's arms against the counter. Nor do you realise how long it’s taken you to mentally return to him. The first thing you do notice is so trivial, it’s almost laughable. 

“You’re out of apple juice, by the way.” 

Even you’d laugh if you heard yourself bring up something so random.

“Do you want apple juice? We can go buy some more.” He replies in a quiet mumble.

In his presence, you can think such thoughts without the concern of being laughed at. 

“No, I’m not gonna make you go to the grocery store just for apple juice.” You shake your head, expression oozing sarcasm. 

“I need to buy a lot more than apple juice. I’m pretty sure I don’t even have enough to make eggs or coffee.” He snorts, running his fingers through your hair. 

“Right. I forgot, Mister F.B.I.” You snort back, playfully poking his arm. “How was your time in Alaska?” 

It’s really common for your brain to malfunction around Spencer. You don’t feel the need to think or stay on alert if he’s with you. 

“Grim. Bleak.” He keeps it short on purpose. 

He doesn’t want to taint what little time he has with you focused on the gory parts of his job. Or any parts of his job at all. He spends too much of his time there as it is, so he’d much prefer to keep that part of his life separate from you. Spencer didn’t understand what it truly meant to live until after you came into his life. He’d never admit it out loud, but being around you made him realise how much of his soul his job steals from him, piece by piece. You make it whole again.

“How bad was it?” Curiosity still gets the better of you at times.

“Awful. You weren’t there when I woke up every morning.” He steers the conversation again. 

“Uh-huh.” You smirk, looking up at him. “You say that to all your girl-friends the morning after?” 

He takes a small step back, creating space as he cups your face.

“Even if I had the social skills required, when do you honestly think I would have the time between being at work and being with you?” 

“When you’re at work. Duh.” You tap his temple, playfully, voice dripping with sarcasm.

He scoffs, unamused. It’s something Spencer can’t honestly even imagine. You’re his solace, his best friend…his person. 

“Get dressed.” He presses a kiss to the top of your head. “We’ll stop by that bakery you love and get some food in your system. Hopefully before your suggestions start becoming more and more insane.” 

You don’t appreciate the awestruck look on his face when you’re certain you’ve got chocolate lining the corners of your mouth. You attempt to glare at him, but it doesn’t last and you find yourself fighting back a smile.

“Cut it out!” You groan, stringing out the end of your sentence. 

The trolley comes to a halt as you stop to grab your phone, but he snatches it out of your hand before you can open the camera.

“Hey–”

“I’m revoking your phone privileges until your urge to keep checking your reflection fizzles out.” He states casually, slipping the phone into his pocket as he reaches for a loaf of bread on the top shelf. 

“Revoking my– what are you my fucking mother?” You reach for his pocket, but he grabs your wrist before you can retrieve your phone. 

You try to use your free arm, but he traps that one in his hands too. 

“I don’t wanna walk around with chocolate around my mouth!” You whisper-shout, mindful of other shoppers passing by.

“For the fifth time, you don’t have chocolate anywhere on your face. It wasn’t there after you finished your shake and it won’t be there no matter how many times you check.”

You ignore him, trying to free yourself from his grip.

“You don’t believe me?” The look on his face is more entertained than shocked.

“Spencer, my fluffy-headed, genius bookworm, I would put my life in your hands if you asked me to but after that time you let me walk around with my lipstick smudged–”

“That happened one time!” He gripes, less concerned about his volume. 

“I looked like I came straight off the clock from a circus!” 

“It wasn’t that bad!” 

“Six hours, you let me walk around like that!” 

If he were to be completely honest, he was completely enraptured by your long tangent about why you despise dolphins. Most of it wasn’t based on facts and the parts that were, weren’t really a feasible argument since morals are a uniquely human concept. However, that was the day he uncovered how brightly you light up when you talk about something you’re passionate about. He spent the rest of that time, subtly digging, trying to figure out the topics that made you glow so he could keep bringing them up. 

“There’s nothing there. Your face is– looks perfect.” He fumbles on his words.

“I can feel it!” You protest.

“That happens because–”

“Reid?” An unfamiliar voice calls out from behind you.

Spencer lets go of your wrists as you turn to face the owner of the voice. Two blondes, one behind the other. One of them is a lot more colourful and bold, with large statement jewelry and a pair of gorgeous platform heels that match her dress. The other is less vibrant, but with no less confidence and blue eyes that stand out like diamonds shining under lights. 

“Hey! What are you guys doing here?” 

You’re not a profiler, but you don’t miss the immediate shift in Spencer’s demeanour. He seems a lot more reserved and shy, as compared to the confidant and playful version of him that you know. 

“We’re picking up some things for my birthday bash this weekend.” The brown-eyed blonde chirps. “The one that I will definitely see you at, no excuses allowed!” 

“Right.” He gives an awkward, tight-lipped smile. 

Spencer loves his coworkers, he really does. They’re basically his family. However, he wants nothing more for them to go away right now. Not for any reason other than wanting to keep you away from them, because he knows them. For all their amazing qualities, there’s one that annoys him the most and that’s how nosey they can be. Especially when it comes to him. 

“Hi. I’m JJ.” The blue-eyed blonde takes the initiative to introduce herself, reaching out her hand for a friendly shake.

He knows it’s from a place of love. He’s the youngest member of the team, they all want to protect him, but he detests how they coddle him. He can already sense the incoming invitation from Garcia to her birthday. He knows that it won’t take long for you to befriend everyone on his team, because, well, they’re all amazing people. Integrating you with that part of his life is something he’s just not ready for. Not like this.

“I’m Penelope and oh my goodness, you are just gorgeous!” 

He enjoys how when he’s with you, he can exist in a separate bubble. Where all he is, is not the resident genius of the BAU. More than that, he knows of the dangers that come with integrating the two separate lives. He’s seen the losses that occur, whether they be by generic circumstances or unplanned deaths. And there’s nothing he can do to stop his worlds colliding, a fact he has to grasp as soon as he zones back in to find three sets of eyes staring at him, expectantly.  

“Right.” He clears his throat, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “These are my– um– this is Penelope Garcia and Jennifer Jareau, or JJ. We work together.” 

The introduction is hesitant and rushed at best, but you chalk it up to him being taken off guard. You want to gauge his mood, try and figure out where his head’s at, but that’s going to have to wait. 

“Oh my God! I knew it!” Garcia gasps dramatically, taking your hand in hers. “You’re the reason he’s always in a rush to leave now! It is so nice to meet you!”

Garcia’s not wrong. You are the reason he’s always in a rush to get away. You’re his escape from the harsh realities he faces every day. You’re unsure of how to respond. In fact, you’re not even certain as to what’s going on. Nobody else seems to match Penelope's enthusiasm. Spencer looks mortified, while JJ looks like she wants to drag Penelope away. Still, everybody’s too frozen to stop her. 

“Did you know that you have him checking his phone more than a lovestruck teenage girl? Him! One of the biggest technophobes I’ve ever met!”

This is also a fact. Spencer’s not an idiot. He’s not oblivious to the open-mouthed stares he gets every time he’s caught smiling like a dopey idiot after looking at the screen. He’s just never cared. It’s almost impossible to ignore any notification from you. He doesn’t feel great about that coming to bite him in the ass right about now. 

Given different circumstances that were more in his control, Spencer would be elated to introduce the most important people in his life to each other. This whole interaction is actually shorter than he feels it is, but for Spencer, time moves too slowly. He can sense how the safety of your company as he knows it, the most valuable aspect of his life, is under threat of being ripped away from him with every second that passes. Without you, Spencer would once again find himself lost. 

“Spencer, you have to bring her to my bash this weekend! Everybody would love to meet your girlfriend!” Garcia wiggles her eyebrows, eyes smirking beneath her glasses.

Because all he is, is yours. 

“Oh! Uhm–” You begin.

“No Garcia, she’s–this is…my friend..” He adds at the same time, unable to hide his stutter.

At least, that’s all he wants to be.

“Right…we’re just…friends.” You confirm with a half-hearted smile at the reminder of your reality. 

It was better this way. The two of you agreed on this at the start of your arrangement. 

Spoilers: Mostly just fluff, a sprinkle of angst, smut, lots of mutual pining, friends with benefits.

AN - I felt a surge of evil take over my bones when I wrote this and any events that unfolded were out of my control. This is not my finest work, but once I thought of it I had to share it. Also I know I said not to bother me about fics bc uni and I still mean that, I just don’t know what happened. It’s like I got a bit of inspo and couldn’t help myself. Huge thanks to @mrs-dr-reid for beta reading! FWB Writing Challenge by @imagining-in-the-margins Prompt - "I wanna be yours" by Arctic Monkeys

No bc writing that opening scene on the bed might be my favourite and u should tell me if u agree bc I wanna write more like that, but if u hate it then I won't.

Thanks for reading.

[theorphicangel]

“𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐜𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐝 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬?” | 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

synopsis: you have a valentine’s date tomorrow and you’re somewhat excited for it. but there’s just one thing you’re unsure about…thankfully your trusted roommate can help. right?

tags: roommate au! (Here we go again), smut, 18+, male masturbation, mutual pining, these mfs are in DENIAL smh, angsty ishhhh

taglist: @ghost-lantern @mreowmoreww @maomaimao @ahano

PART TWO. (click here for part one.)

“I think you’re lying to me.”

Miguel glances up at you from the dining table that he’s sitting at, currently eating a bowl of cereal. You’re standing opposite him, buttering a seemingly burnt piece of toast.

“Hmm?”

“I think you’re lying to me about not having a valentine’s date.”

Miguel’s eyes move back down to stare at his bowl, spoon mindlessly poking at the cereal but he’s not eating. He pauses for a few seconds, thinking over your words.

“What makes you think that?”

“You?” You point at him with your butter knife. “The Miguel O’Hara, the well-known ladies’ man has not one date tonight? Not a single one out of the countless ladies that he’s been with? Suspicious.”

“Looks like it.” he mumbles. You notice that his tone is dry. Refusing to play along with your teasing.

“See, I don’t believe it. Something’s up, you’re acting…weird.”

It’s ironic you say that. You have no right to judge him on his behavior. After all, you did suck him off on the couch last night. This morning, neither of you had made an attempt to discuss what had happened last night. You acted as if nothing had happened between the two of you, as if you had just gone to bed for an early night.

As for Miguel, it was a whole different story. Unbeknownst to you, he didn’t get any sleep that night. Tossing and turning, his cock aching at the thought of you. Each and every time that he tried to close his eyes, all he could picture was you between his thighs.

It was that look. That look you had in your eye, it was full of hunger and desire. It was a look that proudly told him that all you had wanted to do was to make him feel good.

Reminiscing on this, guilt ran through his bloodstream like poison, questions running through his mind.

Why didn’t he ask you to be his valentine’s sooner? Why didn’t he confess there and then? Why did he have to wait so long to make a move? Do you feel the same as him? Do you feel as if your soul is eating you from the inside out, tempting you to confess how you really feel? If he did confess, would you have canceled all your plans for him? Or would you act like how you’re acting now, pretending that nothing happened?

“I’m not being weird. I’m tired.” He mumbles, still poking at his cereal. In his mind he can already hear the voice of his mother berating him for it.

“Right.” you say, unable to think of anything more to say. Normally, it’s easier than this to start off playful banter between the two of you but you can sense Miguel’s energy was off.

This was almost reminiscent of your earlier days after moving in. How you both exchanged awkwardness and empty conversations that resulted from who's turn it was to take out the trash and the weather forecast.

You figure that perhaps Valentine's Day wasn't the best day for him, assuming that his behavior is the result of something else that happened. You decide to keep your pondering questions to yourself, instead finishing your breakfast in silence. You scroll mindlessly on your phone, seeing multiple posts of friends already waking up to cute valentine gifts and what not.

Audibly, you let out a sigh, wondering if your date – whom you may come across at work– has anything planned for you this morning.

You glance over at Miguel who continues to stare down at his bowl, the obnoxious sound of milk falling off his spoon fills the silence.

Anxiety builds up in your stomach about last night. Was it wrong to ask him to help you? Perhaps he regrets what happened, suddenly wishing he’d never agree to it. Your negative thoughts continue to build up inside you, suddenly taking away your appetite.

You thought last night was…good. Great, even. It had given you confidence for tonight.

if anything was to happen tonight.

Was last night helpful? Most definitely.

Did it spark something in you that you’ve tried to keep buried since the very moment you moved into the apartment? Sure.

Did you want to do it again? Hell yes.

But the question is, does he feel the same?

You take in his demeanor, his low mood and refusal to look up at you. Maybe he hates you so much that he can’t bear to stand you after last night. This brutal assumption was all you needed to get yourself to snap back into reality.

Before disappearing to get changed for work, you take one last glance at Miguel, who continues to ignore you. By the time you step out of your room to leave the apartment for work you find the kitchen empty.

You find a single bowl of cereal on the table that remains unfinished.

/

Exhausted, miguel steps into the apartment. He thinks it’s nearing 6pm by the time he arrives, taking a little longer than usual to return.

As soon as he shuts the door behind him he can hear your voice calling for him; a personal singsong just for him bouncing off the walls. After locking the door, he turns to hang up his coat before bending down to remove his shoes.

By the time he looks up again, you’re suddenly standing in front of him and for a second it feels like his breath is knocked out of his lungs.

And there you were. Stood in front of him with a cheesy smile across your lips, wearing a dress he’s never seen before. You tilt your head to one side, awkwardly fiddling with your hands as Miguel stares you down.

“Do you think it’s a little too much?”

You move your body a little, providing different angles of the dress. Immediately Miguel’s eyes are drawn to the way that your curves hug at the dress. His eyes are latched onto you, unblinking. As he stands in silence your mind turns into panic, taking it as a negative reaction. Maybe it’s not the right dress.

Your disappointment is more than obvious as you start to turn, heading back to your bedroom where a pile of clothes await your return. “You’re right, I think I should–”

“Perfect.”

Finally, the words leave his throat.

If the words ‘Will you be my Valentine?’ won’t fall from his lips then he makes sure that you’re able to hear this at least.

“It’s perfect.” He repeats, a little louder now. His body forces himself to blink now, eyes stinging at the image of you.

“Are you sure?” Your tone is apprehensive, unable to see the positive correlation between his reaction with his words. “Because I think I have a better dress–”

“No.” Miguel swallows thickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “I like this one, it looks good. Perfect.”

He likes it.

Relief crashes over you, all doubt washed away. His external validation was the only thing you needed.

“Really?”

Miguel’s patience was wearing thin at your disbelief, it took everything in him not to run up to you and mark you as his. It took everything in him not to run his hands all over your body, to ingest every feature, to worship it, to make love to it and provide you everything you had ever wanted.

God, he wanted nothing more but to prove to you that, yes, you looked fucking gorgeous, stunning even. If there was a moment where he wanted to kick himself in the balls for not asking you out sooner, the moment would be now.

“Really. Don’t change.”

He can’t tell whether this final validation was all you needed or whether his tone was finally believable to you but either way he’s satisfied that he has finally gotten through to you as a smile reaches for your lips.

“Thanks mig’. ” you mutter quickly, turning from him as fast as you could to hide the heat that now spread rapidly across your face. You say nothing more, disappearing as quickly as you had appeared, leaving him in a wondrous state.

/

“Think you’ll be okay?”

You don’t look up at him, too busy replying back to a message. He watches as your thumbs move across the small screen at lighting speed. “Yeah, yeah, he’s nearly here.” you mumble quietly. Unfortunately, you’re too preoccupied to notice the look of apprehension on Miguel’s face.

There’s something that gnaws at him completely. From the inside, just begging to be let out. He doesn’t know whether it’s a confession, his jealousy or anger at himself. He assumes that this feeling is a mix of all three.

He can tell that you're nervous, teeth softly biting down on your bottom lip, heels tapping the floor with impatience. If you weren’t holding your phone with two hands, he’d bet that you’d be biting at your nails. It takes everything in him not to grab you by the shoulders, forcing you to look at him and take a few deep breaths.

Soon enough, a ding is heard from your phone and he watches how your face lights up. All he can do is stand awkwardly as you tell him your date is here to pick you up. Miguel watches you as you make your way to the door, double checking your purse for anything that you may have forgotten.

A wish of ‘good luck’ dies in Miguel’s throat as you slip through the door, leaving him with nothing more than an echoed goodbye.

The second he hears the door lock behind you, a sigh seems to leave his lips. He can smell the lingering scent of a perfume that he had bought for you as a christmas present, a new favorite that you only wore on special occasions.

Silence now begins to torment him, his mind is jumping to conclusions. What if this one date will lead to a second date and then a third and then a tenth? Until eventually the day comes, when you announce that you’ll be moving out.

He’ll be left on his own, again.

And all that follows are bland text messages from you every now and again, checking up on him as a friend whilst he falls back into the shadows, forever stuck with the label of ‘roommate’.

The deafening silence continues to torture him, thoughts emerging to the idea of your date becoming the love of your life. It's completely stupid and useless to jump to this assumption but he can’t help it. He can’t help but tyrannize himself, his insecurity eating away his insides like vermin.

“Fuckin’ hell, you need to get yourself together.” He pinches the bridge of his nose, making his way over to the couch. He collapses with exhaustion, a groan leaving his body as he does so.

It takes him more than a few minutes to realize that he’s sitting in the same spot as last night. The only difference being is that there’s no pretty girl sitting between his thighs, eyes glowing at him with lust and desire. This single thought is enough to make him hard.

A curse or two is muttered under his breath as an uncontrollable bulge begins to grow in his pants. He really shouldn’t. But he does.

His fingertips run over his crotch as he reminisces about last night: the innocent look on your face, your shock at how big his cock was, your attempt to take him whole, desperately trying to fit him into that pretty little mouth of yours, and by god, it took everything in him not to keep you down there.

But that look, that glow almost dared him to. Your eyes silently expressed that this was all for him. Miguel lets out a groan, finally giving in to his needs, a hand slipping into his pants to free his aching cock from his boxers.

He gives slow, long strokes imitating what you had done yesterday. A quiet whimper leaves his throat, his thumb wiping away at the pre-cum at the crown of his length. He remembers the way his body shudders as you left tantalizing little circles at the tip of his cock, practically torturing him.

His thoughts drastically change from imagining your mouth teasing his cock to how he would tease your dripping cunt. He imagines how soaked you would be for him and wonders whether you were like this yesterday, when you were sucking him off, completely soaked through your panties.

Miguel lets out a groan at the mere thought, his hand now increasing the pace of his strokes. You’d be so tight, he thinks, so tight that your eyes would tear up at your cunt trying to take him whole. His cock would stuff every inch of you, your cunt clenching around him, your little whines persuading him to go deeper, trying to prove that you can take it all.

He wraps a tight fist around himself, pumping himself a little faster now, his breath hitched. His free hand grips at a pillow beside him, imagining that he was taking handfuls of your ass as he buried himself deeper into you. He’d start off slow, let you get adjusted to his size before building up a merciless pace.

Miguel imagines your body writhing beneath him, fingertips scratching at his back as he pleases you. Miguel begins to feel heat in his lower abdomen, his eyes are closed and brows are furrowed as he tries to focus on pornographic images of you in his mind. He imagines your whimpers, babbling to him about how good it feels. That’s all he wanted to do. Make you feel good.

“Please, please, please– fuck, don’t stop.”

Miguel’s thighs begin to tense, hips jerking slightly as he fists his cock. It feels too good to stop. It’s wrong but he can’t stop your name from escaping from his lips. He surrenders to the feelings of pleasure and complete euphoria. He feels the cord in his lower abdomen begin to snap away, desperate pleads echo off the walls as he cums, his seed spilling across his hand and lower abdomen.

Coming down from his climax, the realization of what he’s done crashes over him like a wave and suddenly he finds himself violently drowning. Drowning in a sea of his thoughts and his mistakes. Cruelly, he reminds himself that he can’t be saved and that he deserves to be alone. After all…

he has no one to blame but himself.

click here for part 3

[anashins]

Five Times a Day

Pairing: Jaehyun x You

Genre: angst, romance, smut

Word Count: 3.7k

Summary: After Jaehyun's ex drops the fact that they have once done it five times a day, you are eager to keep this record up.

A/N: Retroactive jealousy is real and this is me processing this problem. Maybe some of you can relate - remember: We're in this together and are stronger than our insecurities!

You sipped on your smoothie, barely listening to your friends who were excitedly talking across each other. Under usual circumstances, you would have been able to enjoy this gathering among you girls, but today… not at all. 

In fact, you were in a sulk. And it was all because of a guest from a past you had deemed forgotten already.

“By the way…” Said guest suddenly turned to you with a feigned, overly sweet smile. “How is Jaehyun?”

You rolled your eyes, refusing to look into the face of the girl who had just asked you this question. You had known she would eventually come up with this topic. After all, your boyfriend, Jaehyun, was her ex boyfriend. Justifiably his ex, though!

She had gone behind his back and cheated on him with his friend. It had been you who had mended his broken heart with no ulterior motives in the beginning, but after that cruel woman had moved away, it had evolved into something that the both of you had underestimated.

You had given him time, treated him with nothing other than patience and understanding, until one day, he had been able to move on with you who had no intention of hurting him in the same manner ever again.

“He’s perfectly fine, we’re so happy,” was your equally overly sweet reply.

Your best friend’s nudge into your side with her elbow pulled you out of your sulking attitude as she was silently begging you to get a grip of yourself. You just shrugged, reminding her that you had only tagged along because you were nosy and wanted to boast, and that you had no intention of being friendly. You just couldn’t have missed this opportunity to see how she was doing, no matter how much you resented her.

Jaehyun’s ex had been in your friend group back then and was now in the city for a few days, so everyone had accepted her invitation to meet up to reminisce about the old times - including you and your big ego. You slowly regretted it, even though you had only come to brag to her how much happier he was with you. It was just so exhausting to be fake-friendly.

But to prove to your best friend that you were ready to compromise, you added sharply with triumph in your voice, “We live together now.”

“Oh, I’m so happy for you!” the ex’s voice echoed through the café as she clapped into her hands. “I also have a new boyfriend with whom I live with!”

The other girls congratulated her, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do so as well. All you could think of was whether that guy was also a poor soul she would soon destroy. That was until she mentioned something else that only you could probably hear.

“Now that we live together, we do it like five times a day.” She chuckled, lowered her voice and leaned in to you. “Jaehyun has been able to do just as much. Say, does he still live up to it? You must for sure know.”

You resented her so much.

____

First

You woke up way before Jaehyun when the sun shone right into your face as you had forgotten to pull the curtains together the night before.

It was almost 7 in the morning, and soon, your alarm would go off so that you would only see each other again later that evening when you came back home from work. You were determined to beat the clock before that would happen.

With much caution, you lifted the blanket and crawled under the duvet to Jaehyun’s side of the bed. He only groaned when you accidentally leaned on his shin, but you were still able to settle on his legs under the blanket without waking him up fully. 

You reached out your hand and stroked the small mound under his pajama bottoms. It didn’t take long for that mound to turn into a firm bulge and for Jaehyun to react to your stroking with his thighs moving against your palm.

You didn't know whether he was awake yet or not from under the covers, but you liked the thought of this exact uncertainty. To push this act further, you hooked your fingers into the waistband of his bottoms and dragged the fabric downwards to the point where you could get a hold of his member and pull it out entirely.

Your fingers wrapped around Jaehyun’s length and you started moving them along his shaft until it stood nearly parallelly to his stomach. Sitting yourself up to be able to tug your own panties down, you shuffled forwards and guided his tip to your entrance.

When you slowly sank down onto him, you heard a loud moan from the other side of the blanket that was still covering you. Tight hands gripping onto your bum when you had taken him in fully, confirmed to you that your boyfriend was now awake - and ready for whatever was to come.

“Good morning,” you whispered, your head now peeking out from under the duvet.

Your boyfriend was still lying on his back with his eyes closed, but you still perceived his sensual and exciting expression as he licked over his lips and groggily fluttered his lids open.

With a grin, Jaehyun greeted you hoarsely, “‘morning.”

Your palms were placed flat onto his chest as the blanket slipped over your shoulders along your back and revealed your upper body that was only covered in your silken top. To Jaehyun, this was a sight he couldn’t get enough of, jolting him entirely awake now.

You put your weight on your forearms, just enough for you to lift your hips and come down at him again. Not much later, your moans filled the entire room, sunlight dancing across your skins on whichever part was currently in the right angle as you bobbed up and down on him.

Your back arched, your hair falling over your shoulder blades in long, silken streaks as the strands simultaneously moved to the rhythm you applied to Jaehyun’s groin. Not much later, your skin was glistening with sweat and you fell limply on your boyfriend’s chest as you had run out of strength.

Putting his arms around you, Jaehyun hurried you along until you bit into his shoulder to suppress your scream as you shook in his embrace. Shortly after, when you slowly calmed down, it was his turn. With his fingers entangled in your hair, he whispered sweet nothings into your ear, faltering between every syllable as he came.

You had never doubted that Jaehyun loved you very much. You had been very sure that he loved you even more than when he was the happiest with his ex-girlfriend.

But now, you weren’t quite so sure anymore. 

Not even when he took his time and risked being late to work just to cuddle with you in the aftermath.

____

Second

“What are you doing here?”

Jaehyun looked at you with very much surprise from across his desk when you closed the door behind you. You had visited him a few times at his workplace already, to bring him food or quickly say hello when you had been in the neighborhood - but never with such an intention.

The fabric of your trenchcoat felt cold on your skin as you wore nothing underneath other than the lingerie that you had actually wanted to save for your anniversary celebration. But until then, you had decided, you would buy a new set and use this one for this certain occasion.

Jaehyun couldn’t believe his eyes when you opened the coat’s belt across your waist and flashed him the sexiest set of red underwear that he had hopefully ever seen in his life. You physically watched his jaw drop and him taking off and then putting on again his glasses just to make sure that what he was currently witnessing was, indeed, real.

“Today is not my birthday, right?” You saw him gulp as his Adam’s apple moved along his neck, and you had to suppress a chuckle catching him so off guard. “Then I must be dreaming.”

“You’re not,” you answered and approached him in your heels that were also new. “Today is just your lucky day.”

“Then can every day be my lucky day?”

When you stood right in front of him after he had come forward from his seat, you let the trenchcoat slide down your shoulders, revealing the new bra fully, and your boyfriend couldn’t take his eyes off of you once again. 

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered before his head disappeared between your breasts. “I can’t get enough of you.”

“Then show me,” you challenged him. “Show me how much you want me. Right here and now.”

… and not her, you added silently in your mind, but pushed this intrusive thought right aside, because you wanted to live in this moment with Jaehyun and no one else.

“Very well,” he agreed and helped you take off the trenchcoat.

You were allowed to keep wearing your lingerie when Jaehyun grabbed you by your buttocks and placed your legs around either side of his hips just so that he could carry you. With one swift motion, he had turned you to his desk and kept you in place with one arm while the other reached out and threw everything in his reach from the desk onto the floor. 

Then, he placed you on the surface and parted your thighs with his hips. The moment he loosened his tie was the moment you lost it too, because, once again, it hit you out of nowhere how perfect your boyfriend was and that you actually shouldn’t care who had been with before and what he had done with that person.

Jaehyun was all yours when he slipped his fingers into your lace panties and pushed them into you to collect the fluids inside of you as you had gotten so wet already. He was all yours, when he dragged his hand along your folds and caused you to shudder with this motion only as they reached your clit. 

And he was also all yours when you couldn’t bear it for much longer and put your heels up on either side right on top of the desk to give him better access to enter you.

You were laying flat on the surface with your elbows propped up for support so that you could watch him thrust right into you. Jaehyun’s hair swung with each push and grew damp over time on the tips that touched his sweaty forehead. His fingers were still buried into your upper thighs so that no thrust would go astray, and when he looked up, you encountered this hungry look in his eyes.

He was long not done, and you only hoped that his short lunch break was enough for what he had still in store for you.

And as you were finally letting yourself go too, lying back down on the desk and moaning his name just loud enough to not to travel to the other offices, you wondered if he had done something like this before just by the way he knew what to do and how to enjoy it.

____

Third

You had set up a fancy dinner for Jaehyun later that evening. After having surprised him at his office, you had gone straight back to your own workplace and finished earlier to buy and prepare his favorite food.

By the time he was home, you had the appetizer and steak with side dishes ready, and even though you had been in a hurry to fix dinner, you were pretty impressed with how everything had turned out. After all, today, everything had to be perfect for this mission.

“Are you sure it’s not my birthday or another important date that I forgot about?”

Jaehyun raised a brow when he saw that you had set up the whole atmosphere with fancy crockery, cutlery and even lightened up candles. Usually, on weekdays, when you both had to work, you just threw something easy and light together and ate on the couch in front of the TV.

“Can’t I just do something nice for my boyfriend when I have the day off?”

“I mean… I’m not complaining. But this is the third nice thing you’re doing for me today. What did I do to deserve this?”

You put your hands around his neck and shook your head. “You’re just being you. Isn’t that enough.”

You got on your tiptoes to kiss him and were already looking forward to serving him dessert. And with “dessert” you didn’t mean ice cream or cake, because you had not prepared such. With “dessert” you meant having Jaehyun right under you at your mercy not even an hour later.

“Stop, stop!” Jaehyun breathed and stretched out his hand to gently lay it on the top of your head.

With a slurping sound, you let go of him and looked up to your boyfriend who was spread out on the couch underneath you. 

“You don’t like it?” you worried, because Jaehyun actually never said no to getting head. Again, you wondered what you did wrong and if he had ever said no to his ex. You bet not.

He cupped your face and softly pulled you up to him so that you were now hovering over his chest. “That’s not what I mean,” he grinned and kissed your smudged lips. “You did so much for me today, let me do something for you too.”

Not much later, you were a writhing, whiny mess, legs locked between Jaehyun’s head while he licked you like you were his literal dessert after this feast. You had cum twice in a row already and were thinking that if he wouldn’t stop now, you wouldn’t have much energy for the real deal soon.

“Already out of breath?” 

“Please… I just want you inside of me,” you begged.

“Very well.”

He took you on all fours from behind this time, fingers entangled in your hair and pulling you back every now and then to either kiss you or groan lewd words into your ear that made you blush slightly. In no way would one assume your boyfriend had this side to him if one were to meet him on the streets. 

How lucky you were. 

And other girls before that too, apparently.

But again, you pushed that thought aside when Jaehyun smacked your cheek and you let out a shriek that blended with your orgasm in the exact same moment. Pain and pleasure became indistinguishable, and that made it even more exciting as you experienced a high that only seldomly occurred. 

When you laid with your sweaty bodies chest to chest, you came to the conclusion that it probably truly didn’t matter what had ever been before you when the present was so beautiful. 

You didn’t want your insecurities to get the better of you, but your boyfriend was so perfect that you constantly wondered if one day, he would have enough of you if you couldn’t give the best like he deserved.

____

Fourth

“No.”

Your heart sank and you directly pulled your dressing gown close again. Underneath it, you wore a negligee that only rarely got put into use, but for the fourth time today, you wanted to present it to Jaehyun when he returned from the bathroom.

You only had two more times to go, you assumed you could get it done right now.

Your disappointment and shock were very visibly written all over your face though, and immediately, your boyfriend started to apologize.

“Look…” He seated himself next to you on the bed and looked at you with apologetic eyes. “Don’t beat yourself up over this! I really appreciate everything you did today, but it was a long day overall for me and I have to get up early again tomorrow. I just can’t keep up anymore today. It was great three times, but I’m physically at my end too and I really need to sleep soon.”

You didn’t want to say it. You truly didn’t. But your impulsive part had gotten the upper hand as all your feelings that you had been suppressing throughout the day boiled down to this one sentence,

“I bet you didn’t say that to your ex when you did it five times a day.”

For an unusually long time, Jaehyun stayed quiet and you feared that you had sabotaged your relationship at this point. 

“I knew there was something up with you,” he eventually said. “You shouldn’t have gone to that gathering, even though the other girls are still friends with her.”

“But I did, because I’m nosy and foolish.” You paused. “Are you mad now?”

“Yes.” Your heart dropped, but before you could defend yourself, Jaehyun continued, “I’m mad because you have let her confuse and make you question our relationship based on… what?”

Ruefully, you confessed, “She said that you had sex five times a day.” You sensed how he repressed laughter that was deeper than usual, so he wasn’t making fun. “What is it? Is it not true?”

Honestly, perhaps you should have asked Jaehyun before reacting blindly out of impulse, because after all, this cheating girl was a liar. But sadly, he dismissed your glimpse of hope.

“We did.” Jaehyun’s head dropped at the same moment as your heart. “This is true.”

“Oh…” 

You knew the person you should be angry at was yourself, not Jaehyun or his ex. You hadn’t been romantically involved at that time, it had nothing, absolutely nothing to do with you. But you couldn’t help but to compare yourself to her over and over again. 

What was wrong with you? Why couldn’t you just switch this off? Why was there no button connected to your feelings?

Something warm suddenly touched your hand, and it was Jaehyun’s, taking yours into his. You didn’t dare to look up, that was how ashamed you felt for yourself. 

“It was only one time,” he started calmly. “There was a snowstorm outside, so it was dangerous for her to go home. She stayed an entire day and night, that was when it happened. And do you know why it happened?”

You shrugged. You were unsure whether you actually wanted to know all the details to feed your insecurities even more.

“Don’t worry, the answer won’t be as you expect.” Jaehyun squeezed your hands and continued with a patient, tender tone, “The reason wasn’t because I found her more beautiful or hotter than you. Believe me, you are the only one for me. I cannot even look at other women and not think ‘Wow, I got the most beautiful girl out of all the girls in the world. She’s so perfect, I’m so lucky!’” Your cheeks were burning, but you kept listening diligently. “The reason was because we literally had nothing to talk about.”

Now, you lifted your head and faced your boyfriend who encouragingly smiled at you. He was sincere, you saw it clearly in his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that whenever we spent so much time with each other, we never had something to talk about. We had absolutely no common interests or topics of which we felt the need to engage in. The only attraction we had was a physical one, so when we were forced to stay with each other so long, there was nothing else that we could do.”

Jaehyun let go of your fingers and wrapped his hands around your waist instead to pull you into his warm lap, and you let him.

"Absolutely nothing?” you wanted to make sure. This indeed surprised you.

He chuckled ironically. “Yes, absolutely nothing.”

“But we always talk non stop.”

“I know.” You felt his full lips pressing into your cheek and smiled. “We are not only physically connected, but emotionally as well. Isn’t that beautiful? Do you know how much that is worth and that some people seek for a connection like ours an entire lifetime? I enjoy physical contact with you just as much as our conversations and laughter. There is no need to fill a void, because there is none in the first place.”

You had never thought that Jaehyun felt like that and it touched your heart very deeply. “When I heard her saying this, I was worried you would soon be bored with me if I couldn’t keep up.”

“No, don’t ever think that!” Jaehyun drew you close to his chest and you laid your head on his shoulder. “Our love came unexpectedly for each of us, and I think we both had to learn that the right love was calm and steady, not these highs and lows with many fights. This is how it’s supposed to be, don’t let it make you feel unsure because you’re not used to it too. We’re here now, we shouldn’t look back.”

Hearing this from him set your mind at ease. It made many things better that were here temporarily, but you were also aware that in order to fight any doubts you were holding against your relationship, you had to fight your inner demons first. 

It couldn’t be done in a day, but you would work hard, taking one step at a time and just believe in your boyfriend who assured you every day in many ways that his feelings were true and unwavering, no matter how big the demon had grown at this point. 

“I love you, Jaehyun.”

“Of course I love you too.” He chuckled. “You make me laugh, you defend me, you fight me, you challenge me, and whenever I’m at my wit’s end, you bring me back to life. This is worth so much more and there is no one else I can ever imagine being with again. To me, you’re perfect.”

“Funny,” you whispered as you felt him pressing a kiss onto your parting. “I always think that about you too.”

There was no need for a fourth or fifth time.

[doritochoi]

Ex-Husband Encounter | C.S

pairing: fem!reader x ex-husband!san

genre: smut

warning: public sex, unprotected sex, sexual tension, blowjob, hard fuck, eating cum? ( kinda idk)

word count: 3,7k

tags: @roguehongsami ( you can message me if you want to me tagged in my post!)

You feel your heart pounding in your chest as you walk into his office and see the shocking scene before you. "S-san?" you manage to stutter, feeling a sharp pain shoot through your chest. Your husband, with whom you dreamed of spending the rest of your life in happiness, is sitting on a chair, and one of his employees is sitting on his lap, kissing him with a passion that takes your breath away. You are destroyed. You just wanted to be a good wife, bring him lunch like every day, and now you feel like everything is falling apart around you. Your lunch tray dropped on the floor, the plates are broken into a thousand pieces, the crumbs are scattered on the floor, but to you it is only a mute decoration in front of your pain. Inside, a storm of feelings floods your mind and soul - sadness, anger, helplessness. You can't take your eyes off them, the image that tears your heart to pieces. You feel betrayed, abandoned, and at the same time you are tormented by questions that hurt more than anything else. Why? How could you not see? You try to keep your composure, not to collapse in front of them, but you feel tears fill your eyes and your voice is choked with pain. You immediately walk out the door, heartbroken, getting into the car not caring if he calls you. You need distance, space, time to collect your thoughts and understand what you are going to do. You're too hurt to go back, too confused to listen to excuses or explanations. All you want now is to run away from the unbearable pain.

You arrived home sad and angry. Even if you didn't want to do that, you couldn't stay with San anymore. You wanted to wait for him to come home, to discuss, to solve what happened, but your mind stopped thinking. So you went to your shared bedroom. When you got there, you sat on the bed and started to cry, not knowing what to do. The tears flowed even more, making your eyes red and swollen. Looking up, you saw on a small table next to the bed a picture of you and San from the wedding. Looking at the photo, you felt memories begin to flood your mind. The moment was captured into your memory, and every detail came alive again in front of your eyes. You saw San's smile again, the tenderness in his gestures, and you went back in time, reliving the moments of happiness you spent together. The picture was one of your favorites, San holding you by your tiny waist, giving you a sweet kiss on the cheek. While you stared at the photo, a surge of rage and betrayal washed over you. In a fit of anger, you grabbed it and threw it to the ground, listening to the sound of it shattering into pieces. You couldn't tear your eyes away from the broken fragments, feeling a bitter satisfaction in the act. It was a release, a way to express the pain and anger consuming you. You packed your bags, not caring whether San would see all your belongings gathered when he came. You blocked him everywhere so he couldn't find you, and you left, tears streaming down your face as you looked back at the house where you two had shared happy moments.

It has been four years since that incident, and you haven't heard from San since. In truth, you hear about him almost every day, as he is now the richest man around with countless business ventures. He's everywhere, but you’ve tried to ignore everything that happened to avoid feeling lonely. Your best friend, Nayeon, has been a rock, helping you get through it all. She has always been by your side, and with her support, you have become a fairly popular model after a long period of healing and rebuilding your life. You’ve graced the covers of several fashion magazines, walked on runways in major fashion capitals like Paris and Milan, and built a strong social media presence. Your style is admired, your confidence radiates through every photoshoot, and your fanbase grows daily. Today was an important day. You were walking the runway in Sardinia, Italy for the Dolce & Gabbana fashion show. It was a beautiful, long-awaited dream come true. Nayeon was there beside you, helping you into your dress. It was a stunning black gown with a daring cutout at the back, accentuating your figure perfectly. The dress was exquisite, made of the finest silk that flowed gracefully with every movement. The cutout at the back revealed just enough skin to be alluring without being too revealing, perfectly balancing between chic and sensual. As Nayeon adjusted the final touches, she smiled at you, her eyes filled with pride and excitement. "You look breathtaking," she said, her voice filled with genuine admiration. You turned to look at her, feeling a wave of gratitude wash over you. "I couldn't have done any of this without you, Nayeon. Thank you for always being there.", she squeezed your hand gently. "That's what best friends are for. Now go out there and show them what you're made of."

As you stepped onto the runway, the lights blazed down, illuminating the room and the captivated audience. The black gown flowed elegantly with every step you took, the back cutout adding a touch of allure that drew gasps of admiration from the crowd. While you walked, a figure in the audience caught your eye. Instantly, the smile on your face vanished as you saw your ex-husband San in the crowd. He wore an exceptional white suit, making him easy to recognize, almost glowing amidst the sea of spectators. His hair was perfectly styled, and his piercing gaze, those fox-like eyes, made you freeze. He looked directly at you, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. You tried to maintain your composure, reminding yourself to focus on the walk. Every step felt heavier, the weight of his presence pressing down on you. "Keep it together," you whispered to yourself. "Just a few more steps." San's gaze never wavered, his expression unreadable, and it took all your strength to pretend you hadn't noticed him. You felt a swirl of emotions—anger, hurt, confusion—threatening to break through your composed exterior. But this was your moment, and you were determined not to let his presence overshadow it.

Finally reaching the end of the runway, you posed, turning with practiced grace, and began your walk back. You kept your chin up, eyes forward, channeling every ounce of professionalism. Nayeon's encouraging smile flashed in your mind, giving you the final push you needed to finish the show with the same elegance and confidence with which you had started. Backstage, as the applause echoed from the runway, you took a deep breath, your heart still racing from the unexpected encounter. Nayeon rushed to your side, sensing something was off. "Are you okay?" she asked, concern etched in her features. "I... I saw San," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. Her eyes widened in surprise. "What? Where?" "In the audience," you said, glancing back towards the runway. "He was watching me the whole time." You tried to discreetly wipe away your tears, not wanting everyone to see you cry. After a while, when everything had finally wrapped up, you and the team started preparing for the after-party to celebrate the successful show. Your mind wasn't fully present; you were acutely aware that San would be there. You all headed to the most luxurious and opulent restaurant nearby, a sight of pure elegance and sophistication. The exterior was adorned with intricate architecture, lit by soft, ambient lighting that gave it a warm, inviting glow. As you stepped inside, a gracious hostess greeted you, leading your group to a large, round table elegantly set for the occasion. The table was adorned with elegant place settings, sparkling crystal glasses, and a centerpiece of fresh flowers that added a touch of natural beauty to the luxurious setting. Despite the stunning surroundings, your thoughts remained clouded. You tried to engage in the celebration, but the anticipation of seeing San again kept you on edge. The laughter and conversations of your colleagues seemed distant, almost as if they were happening in another world. You noticed that right next to you was the only empty seat at the table, and your eyes were immediately drawn to a prominent name card that read "Choi San". Your heart skipped a beat, realizing the possibility of sitting right next to him. Taking a deep breath, a mix of anticipation washed over you. Was it mere coincidence or a subtle intention from the hosts? As you carefully placed your clutch on the seat, you felt the curious glances from other guests intensify, adding to the pressure of the moment. You took another deep breath, the air thick with anticipation, and when you opened your eyes, there it was—a hand you recognized instantly by its touch, its grip, adorned with rings that spoke of refinement. San had just settled into the seat next to you. He exuded an intoxicating scent, and as he leaned in slightly, you noticed the impeccable tailoring of his suit, revealing a hint of his well-toned chest underneath. "Apologies for being late," he murmured with a respectful nod, his smile bringing back every memory you had of him.

Throughout the dinner, tension built between you and San. You felt his gaze on you constantly, and every accidental touch sent a shiver down your spine. It became overwhelming, and you knew you needed a moment to collect yourself. "Excuse me," you said, standing abruptly. All eyes turned to you as you walked away from the table, your cheeks burning. You hurried to the bathroom, closing the door behind you and taking a deep breath. You splashed water on your face, trying to calm your racing heart. After a few moments, you felt composed enough to return to the table. Just as you opened the door, you walked straight into a solid chest. You looked up, knowing instantly who it was. San. You froze, your eyes meeting his stunning gaze. You wanted to move, to walk away, but his hand caught yours, pulling you back. "San, I need to go," you whispered, but he didn’t let go. Instead, he gently pushed you against the wall, his body close to yours, creating an electrifying closeness. "Not yet," he murmured, his voice low and filled with need. His eyes burned into yours, and you felt the tension between you. Your breath hitched as you felt the warmth of his body against yours. His hand moved to your waist, holding you firmly in place. You could feel the heat radiating from him, making your pulse quicken. Your gaze remains fixed downward, avoiding his mesmerizing eyes, But San cups your chin with his hand, gently lifting your face to meet his intense stare. "What do you want?" you ask, your voice trembling. His eyes burn into yours, filled with a mix of desire and determination. As you try to pull away, his grip tightens, holding you in place. "Stop struggling. I'm not letting you go," he says, his voice low and husky, filled with a dangerous edge that sends a shiver down your spine. "What do you want from me?" you ask, your voice a whisper, laden with both fear and excitement.

Without another word, San pushes you back into the bathroom, the door closing with a decisive click behind you. Your back hits the cool tile wall, the contrast with his heated body making you gasp. His hands are on you again, sliding down your arms, gripping your waist, pressing you firmly against the wall. "I want you," he growls, his voice rough with need. "Every inch of you." San's lips crash against yours with a hunger that takes your breath away. He kisses you fiercely, his tongue exploring your mouth as his hands roam your body. His touch is demanding, possessive, and it ignites a fire inside you that you've tried to suppress for so long. He moves his mouth to your neck, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin, leaving visible marks. His hands slide up your sides, cupping your breasts through the fabric of your dress. "God, I've missed these," he growls, his voice thick with desire. You can feel his cock pressing against you, hard and insistent. He pulls the dress down, exposing your breasts to his hungry gaze. His mouth descends, sucking on your nipple while his hand kneads the other, making you moan with pleasure. "San," you gasp, your fingers tangling in his hair as he devours you. "Don't stop." He bites down gently on your nipple, making you cry out. "I won't," he promises, his voice a low growl. He switches to the other breast, giving it the same attention, his tongue swirling around the hardened peak before sucking it into his mouth. His free hand moves down, lifting your dress higher until it's bunched around your waist. He slips his fingers under your panties, finding you wet and ready for him. "Fuck, you're so wet for me," he groans, sliding a finger inside you and making you arch against him. "Please," you beg, needing more. San grins against your skin, adding another finger and thrusting them in and out of you. His thumb circles your clit, sending waves of pleasure through your body. "You like that, baby?" he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear. "Yes," you moan, your hips moving against his hand. "More, San, please." He withdraws his fingers, leaving you aching and desperate for him. He grabs your hips, lifting you up and pressing you against the wall. "I need to be inside you," he says, his voice rough with need.

You wrap your legs around his waist, feeling the tip of his cock at your entrance. He pushes inside you in one hard thrust, filling you completely. The sensation is overwhelming, and you cry out, clutching at his shoulders as he begins to move. San fucks you with a desperate intensity, each thrust harder than the last. His hands grip your ass, pulling you closer as he drives into you. "God, you feel so good," he groans, his pace relentless. You can barely breathe, the pleasure building to an almost unbearable level. "San, I'm gonna—" , "Come for me," he demands, his voice harsh and urgent. The words push you over the edge, your orgasm crashing through you with a force that leaves you trembling. San follows moments later, his release spilling inside you as he groans your name.

For a moment, the world stops, the only sound your ragged breaths mingling together. San lowers you back to the ground, his arms still wrapped around you as you both come down from the high. When he finally pulls away, his eyes are filled with a mixture of satisfaction and something deeper. "This isn't over," he says softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "I meant what I said. I want you. Every inch of you." You nod, your heart still racing. "We'll see," you whisper, knowing that despite everything, a part of you wants him just as much. San’s eyes darken with a renewed hunger, and he gives you a wicked grin. “On your knees, now,” he commands, his voice low and authoritative. A shiver of anticipation runs down your spine as you drop to your knees in front of him. His erection is right in front of your face, and you can see the desire in his eyes as he looks down at you. You wrap your hand around the base of his shaft, feeling its heat and hardness. You begin by kissing the tip, your tongue darting out to taste him. San inhales sharply, his hands tangling in your hair as you take him into your mouth. “Fuck, that’s it,” he groans, his grip tightening as you start to move. You take him deeper, your lips and tongue working in tandem to pleasure him. You hollow your cheeks, creating a suction that makes him curse under his breath. Your other hand moves to cup his balls, gently massaging them as you bob your head up and down his length. San’s breathing becomes ragged, his hips thrusting slightly as he struggles to control himself. “You’re so good at this,” he growls, his voice strained with pleasure. You look up at him through your lashes, meeting his intense gaze as you take him even deeper, pushing yourself to your limits. The sounds he makes, the way he tenses under your touch, spur you on. You increase your pace, taking him in as far as you can before pulling back and swirling your tongue around the head. “Just like that,” he moans, his eyes closing briefly as he loses himself in the sensation. You can feel him getting closer, his body tensing, his grip on your hair almost painful. With one last, deep thrust, he comes, his release filling your mouth. You swallow it all, not letting a drop escape, your eyes locked on his as he rides out his orgasm. When he finally opens his eyes, there’s a look of deep satisfaction mixed with something more. He pulls you up to your feet, kissing you hard, tasting himself on your lips. “Love, I missed you,” he whispers against your mouth, his hands still holding you close. You can’t deny the electric connection between you, the intense chemistry that still burns so bright. “I missed you too,”.

You both quickly dress, but as you look at your reflection in the mirror, you realize just how disheveled you are. Your hair is a mess, your clothes are wrinkled, and your makeup is smudged. San doesn't look much better; his suit is rumpled, and his hair is tousled in a way that screams what you've just done. As you step out of the bathroom, the hallway feels like it's a mile long. Just as you turn the corner, you run straight into Nayeon. Her eyes widen as she takes in your appearance, then flicks over to San. The realization dawns on her face, and she crosses her arms, looking between the two of you with an incredulous expression. “Really? Here? Now?” Nayeon exclaims, her voice a mix of shock and disbelief. You blush furiously, trying to smooth down your dress. “It just… happened,” you mumble, avoiding her piercing gaze. San, trying to regain his composure, clears his throat. “Nayeon, it’s not what it looks like,” he starts, but Nayeon cuts him off with a sharp look. “Oh, it’s exactly what it looks like,” she snaps, her eyes narrowing at San before turning back to you. “And you? After everything, you just let this happen?” You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of her disappointment. “It’s complicated, Nayeon. We were just talking and then…” Nayeon throws her hands up in the air, clearly frustrated. “Talking? Really? Because it sure doesn’t look like you two were just talking.” San steps forward, his expression earnest. “Look, I know it looks bad, but this is between me and her. We need to figure this out ourselves.” Nayeon’s eyes soften slightly, but she still looks skeptical. “Fine. But you,” she points at you, “better think long and hard about what you’re doing. And you,” she turns to San, “don’t you dare hurt her again.” San nods solemnly. “I won’t,” he promises, his voice firm. Nayeon shakes her head, sighing deeply. “I hope not, for both your sakes.” She turns on her heel and walks away, leaving you standing there with San, the weight of the situation settling heavily on your shoulders. You know Nayeon is right; there are a lot of things to consider, and this isn’t something that can be resolved easily. San looks at you, his eyes filled with a mix of hope and determination. “We’ll figure this out,” he says softly. You nod, but inside, you’re not so sure. There’s a lot to unpack, a lot to discuss, and it’s going to take time. But for now, all you can do is take it one step at a time.

[baeshijima]

— of lattes and dozing generals

in which you're just a cafe employee, and he is the luofu's revered general — the one who can never seem to stray too far from you, no matter how much time passes.

CONTAINS : gn!reader, 10.4k wc, fluff, some angst, hurt/comfort, coffee shop!au(-but-not-really-but-yeah-but-also-not), set slightly before current timeline, (old) friends to lovers, (attempts at) humour, pining pining bc they are old..., mentions of death (reader killed a mara-struck for the first time), hints of blade x reader if you squint

A/N : after a month the fic is done... i am so unwell for this man good lord ಥ_ಥ

General Jing Yuan is a cafe addict. That much is common knowledge among the citizens of the Luofu. Spanning from those who have been around for as long as he — and even older — to children and visitors alike, there’s not one person who hasn’t heard of this rumour.

When asked by a few brave (or nosy, depending on how you look at it) souls, the corners of his lips merely quirk up in a display of fond affection as he vocalises with equal sentiment, “They have my favourite there. How can I possibly resist the temptation?”

…Yeah. Whatever that meant.

Unsurprisingly, word spreads fast. News of the Cloud Knight’s general making regular trips to a meagre cafe? Just what in the world did they have to cause the great, beloved General Jing Yuan to return time and time again?

In the end, no one could actually figure out what his favourite item on the menu was. Every time he went in, it would always result in him leaving with something new! The only consistent occurrence, however, was the same employee taking his order with an expression akin to that of exasperation.

Meanwhile, to the regulars who have grown used to his profound presence within the humble cafe, they know better. This so-called ‘favourite menu item’ rumour that’s been going around? Preposterous! Having bore witness to the general breeze through the entrance in a bee-line to wherever it is you may be currently stationed (typically behind the counter) on many occasions, they’re confident the last thing in Jing Yuan’s mind when visiting is the menu.

After all, for what reason would he have to visit other than to converse with and see his favourite employee?

As a Xianzhou Native, you’ve experienced many oddities and menial routines throughout your extensive life. From being a medic-slash-supporter during countless wars and purges to your current job in a humble cafe, your options are beginning to run thin. After all, life is about exploring the new and revisiting the old (in your philosophy, at least), and there’s plenty of time to do so after having lived as long as you have.

Granted, outside of your role in purging the Denizens of Abundance, it’s safe to say your current occupation in the cafe has been your longest one yet! Well, you suppose the citizens of the Luofu — and, by extension, the Xianzhou Alliance — were never really ones for drastic change. At least the outworlders who come to visit bring some semblance of entertainment in your mundane life.

Yes. Your simple, mundane life you have come to appreciate.

“I see you’re busy as ever,” comments a baritone voice — languid in intonation yet you’re no stranger to the power which belies it. Against your better judgement, your eyes lift from the marbled counter to meet the smiling face of the bane of your existence, and the general whom the masses respect and fawn over. “Mind taking another customer?”

Ah. Right. This guy.

Out of everything that has been thrown at you, you’re almost certain this man takes the cake for the strangest experience in your life. And the longest, you suppose.

Although, it seems the same can’t be said for your coworkers, as you practically hear their beams of excitement before they can vocalise it.

“Welcome back, General Jing Yuan!”

You sigh at the enthused greeting from one of your coworkers, the beginnings of a headache teetering along the edges of your conscience. 

Ignoring the commotion, you resume your work. What was it you were making again…? Oh, right. One milk tea and a—

“If you keep frowning like that, you’ll drive away customers.”

“Will it drive you away?” you retort, focusing on the last part of the order. After securing the small fruit tart from behind the display case, you pass the milk tea and pastry to a coworker so they can take it to the customer.

“Sorry to disappoint,” he drawls, impish smile magnified by the glimmer in his eyes when you turn to make contact, “but it’ll take much more than that to drive me away.”

You stare at him for a few seconds, unsure of what it is exactly he wants from you this time. Your eyes begin to narrow. “Are you saying a smile will drive you away?”

He feigns an exaggerated expression of hurt. “Drive me away? Oh, how your accusations wound me!” A chuckle bubbles from his throat when you glare at him for his theatrics, lifting his hands up in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. I concede. Would you believe me if I said I’m worried your attention will be stolen away from me if you smile?”

“Not at all.”

“I’m merely looking out for you, [Name],” he says with a sigh, a shake of his head and a light tutting sound. “While I am immune to your smile, the customers are not. I don’t wish for you to be bored due to the lack of customers.”

Seriously, you can’t believe this guy sometimes. If he wants a challenge, then you accept.

And so you close your eyes and present your best century-perfected customer smile (which, to your credit, has been the number one selling point for many of the regulars and returning customers), deciding to play along with his whims. “Welcome back, General Jing Yuan. Would you like your usual today?”

(Granted, he likes to vary his order every now and then but the caramel latte seems to be his most consistent choice as of late. Pretty good taste, if you do say so yourself.)

“…”

…Why is it so quiet all of a sudden? Did everyone just unanimously decide to up and leave?? Is there a minute of silence you’re unaware of???

A meek cough disrupts your thoughts. Relieved at the new sound, you open your eyes only to be stumped by the general in front of you. His prior relaxed posture is now rigid, eyes focusing everywhere but on you. Wait, upon closer inspection, is he… shaking?

“...Please excuse me.”

Huh?

You’re not given much time to process his words. With one swift turn he’s already stalking towards the door.

“Hey! What happened to not being driven away?!” He doesn’t turn back at your shout. No, it seems to only make him speed-walk faster. Barely a blink and he’s gone, the only indication of his presence being the echoing chimes of the bell.

He bigged himself up saying he wouldn’t be driven away but then he goes and leaves you in the dust the moment you smile.

What a hypocrite.

(Unbeknown to you, the regulars who happened to witness the spectacle could only chuckle in fond exasperation at their general’s splutter and flushed skin, the only time they can truly get a read on his thoughts, and your dumbfounded expression.)

“One milk tea, as always.”

“No need to sound so enthusiastic,” Tingyun laughs before thanking you. A satisfied hum leaves her lips when drinking the beverage, and that’s all the indication you need to know you have, once again, aced the recipe.

Well done, me! You deserve a pat on the back and a century-long holiday away from as many people as possible!

Graceful movements snap you out of your fantasies. You blink rapidly to process the flutter of a fan, a disarmingly sweet giggle and a cold, paper-like material pressed into your palm.

“Have fun with your dream man~”

“Wait what—”

And then she’s gone, leaving you to stare blankly at the place she was standing mere moments prior. You’re starting to see a pattern here with people abruptly leaving you in a fit of confusion.

Well, nothing you can do about it now, you suppose. So instead you move your focus to the small, thin object enclosed in your hand. Its now-exposed surface gleams under the cafe lights, the reflection obscuring the details. A picture? But what can you do with a—

Wait. Is that… Jing Yuan… winking at the camera…?

Sure enough, under the pressure of your scrutiny as you hold the picture in various angles and heights, the winking face of Jing Yuan stares back at you in mockery. Somehow, this photo feels slightly more personal than the usual ones Tingyun distributes to the masses. Actually, you’re not sure how she even manages to obtain these photos in the first place and, quite frankly, you think it's best you don’t know.

…The hell am I supposed to do with this?

Just as you were wondering what to do with the polaroid, a familiar voice comes from behind — almost as if the small, glossy image clutched between your fingers had the ability to summon him. “If you wanted my photo, all you had to do was ask.”

“Please don’t misunderstand, general,” you deadpan in response, your head swerving to meet his amused gaze before placing the photocard on the counter. “I was given this against my own will.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm,” he hums, a melodic sound which serves to speed up the palpitations of your heart. It comes to an abrupt slow, however, when you spot the corners of his lips lift into a smug curve, already dreading whatever it is that may leave his lips. “I wonder why I find that hard to believe.”

“That's not my problem.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

…

“Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” He laughs at your groan, eyes crinkling with joy at the dispense of your suffering. Yeah, why suffer when you can make drinks? Besides, you already know he’ll accept whatever it is you make, so there’s no reason to ask for his opinion!

He follows close behind when you venture behind the counter in search of some ingredients, uncaring for the stares he receives from the customers who aren’t regulars. 

When you crouch, you shoot one last accusatory glare at the still-smiling general before disappearing to rifle through cabinets underneath. “For someone in a position such as yours, you sure do have a lot of spare time to be spending it on a humble cafe worker such as myself.”

You’re not sure if he responds, too focused on searching for what you need. After finding the ingredients, you rock back on your heels and stand, the top of your head brushing against something smooth. When you rise, you realise it was the back of Jing Yuan’s hand which you made contact with, as he grips the edge of the counter where your head most definitely would have hit if he hadn’t cushioned the impact.

He merely grins when your eyes travel up the length of his arm to meet his gaze. “Well, what can I say other than you are worth every second of my time.”

…

“Don’t look at me like that, [Name].”

“Like what?” You watch as his smile strains when you repeat his words from earlier, a victorious grin creeping its way onto your lips. “Alright, alright. I’ll make your drink now. It won’t take long.”

True to your words, it doesn’t take long. Within a matter of minutes you’ve prepared a caramel latte. (It was the only thing you could find ingredients for. Perhaps it’s time to go shopping again…)

After securing the lid on the takeaway cup, you hand it over to him. He reaches out, your fingers brushing slightly and—

The silence is unnervingly loud as you both stare blankly at the spilled drink rolling across the counter.

“...I’ll be charging extra for that latte today.”

“Aha…”

You’re no stranger to quiet days in the cafe, and neither are the staff and regulars. After a particular incident way back when, it’s safe to say the establishment has faced many peaceful shifts. Though that’s not to say there hasn’t been any disputes from customers, but they’re usually small, easy to resolve issues that only require a practised smile and a (sometimes threatening) deal before sending them on their merry way.

Today, however, doesn’t seem to be one of those easy days.

“Sir, I’ll have to ask you to leave,” your voice resounds in the quiet cafe, stern and unwavering. The man in question tears his attention away from his phone to glance over his shoulder, his once haughty expression now fallen into a scowl.

“And why’s that?” he asks after telling the other person on the line to wait for a moment. “I’m not being disruptive to anyone.” With the progressively hostile looks he’s been getting since earlier, you beg to differ. Well, even if he clearly is an outworlder unaware of the Xianzhou customs, that doesn’t justify his ignorance.

And you decide to tell him just that.

“Since you seem to be a visitor, let me give you a piece of advice: it would do you well to cease all mentions of seeking immortality when aboard any of the Xianzhou ships, lest you want to make an enemy of yourself to the locals.”

“Oh? And who are you to tell me that?” 

Your eye twitches at his haughty tone. Within a second your signature customer smile is plastered onto your expression, an even tone conveying your next words, “A Xianzhou Native, of course.”

And the next thing you know there’s a seething customer causing a disruption in the middle of the cafe. Though not unexpected, you still held onto a fraying hope that the issue could be resolved somewhat peacefully.

How bothersome.

A light weight plops itself atop the line of your shoulder, shifting slightly with a soft brush against your jaw before coming to a still. With a blink, you and the man share a brief moment of confusion, and you find yourself more stupefied at the finch gazing up at you with a slight tilt of its head.

It looks familiar, but that isn’t much to go off of. Besides, the first person to come to mind already said he would be busy this week, so you highly doubt he’s managed to appear at just the right time like always… right? Right—

“What seems to be the issue here?”

Your answer comes in the form of a tender warmth encasing your back, a beguiling voice resounding from behind, and a familiar scent relaxing your tensed muscles. It doesn’t take a genius to recognise who’s standing behind you, but perhaps it’s because you’re so used to his presence that you can identify him the moment he steps into a room.

“General…” you trail off at his unexpected appearance. Jing Yuan does not meet your gaze, however, instead choosing to remain upright behind you and fixate his focus onto the man who kicked up a fuss, expression hardened into that akin of a general.

The little finch is not deterred by the overwhelming presence Jing Yuan now exudes. Rather, it chirps happily and nudges its head against your jaw once more before making itself comfortable along the slope of your neck. Looking at it a little closer you realise it's the one who sometimes greets you when you and Jing Yuan meet up, finding purchase on your shoulder during a round or two of starchess. A smile makes its way onto your lips when it leans into the touch of your finger.

It would seem the small bird did a great job in distracting you, however, for the next thing you know wind sweeps past you, exclamatory apologies spewed out in haste follow and gradually fade in its wake. There’s a faint chime of the bell and a missing presence in front of you.

Oh, you blink, he ran away.

Jing Yuan turns to you then, expression much softer than it was a few moments prior. “Are you alright?” he asks, his hand gently squeezing your free shoulder.

“Yeah, thank you,” you sigh. Your fingers lift to massage away the built up tension in your temples. “I’m sorry you had to see that on your break.”

There’s a small pause. “You shouldn’t apologise for something like that.”

“Huh…?” It was a mistake to meet his gaze, you belatedly realise, for your breath is ceased by the flame which burns molten gold, your heart caught in your throat amidst a gravitas you haven’t seen for a while.

His lips part, tone gradually changing to something more light-hearted; a stark contrast to his current expression. “You were just doing your job. It was that customer who was in the wrong. Honestly, he should have known better than to talk so flippantly about that topic.”

Well, you can’t refute his words.

“What are you doing here anyway?” You cough in an attempt to divert the topic, only to raise a brow at his unreadable countenance. “I thought you said you would be busy.”

Jing Yuan pauses, as though hesitant, before responding, “I sent you a message to send notice of my visit but you didn’t even leave me on read, so I knew there was something wrong.”

“I didn’t even notice…” Without a moment’s haste, you pull out your phone. There on your home screen displays notification banners: 6 unread messages from my headache <3.

my headache <3: I have some free time, so I will be paying you a visit. Don’t mention this to Qingzu though, she doesn’t know I am taking a break. =w=

my headache <3: Are you busy? You don’t usually leave me on delivered for longer than five minutes.

my headache <3: Did I do something to make you mad?

my headache <3: [Name]?

my headache <3: …

my headache <3: I will be at the cafe soon. Wait for me.

A pang of guilt seeps into your conscience. You hadn’t realised he sent so many messages. Did that customer take up that much of your attention? Also, do you really not leave him on delivered for more than five minutes??

“Oh! You kept the heart I put there?” Your thoughts are promptly cut off by the baritone voice resounding beside your ear. His light breaths puff against your skin as he leans against you, peeking over your shoulder to read the messages he sent.

“Why wouldn’t I?” you huff, eyes trained onto the device to avoid meeting his gaze. “I said you could make any changes you wanted to your contact name and this was what you wanted.”

He stiffens at your words, breath stuttering ever so slightly against your skin but quickly catches himself. There’s no response for a while, instead a wave of calm washes over you as you scroll through your phone with Jing Yuan watching from his place over your shoulder, sometimes recalling a particular memory which comes to mind at certain photos in your camera roll.

It goes on like this for a little while until he shifts, strands of silver brushing against the shell of your ear when he releases a light sigh. You glance over your shoulder only to see him already looking at you, the lines of his features soft and gentle.

“You know,” he starts, voice soft with a twinge of nostalgia seeping through, “I’m your first and longest supporter.”

Well, that certainly came out of the blue.

But he’s not wrong, and perhaps that is why you find yourself huffing out a breathy laugh in response. “What? You want me to praise you?”

“Would you?” he asks, an instantaneous response to your lighthearted jest.

You stare at him, incredulous, but he doesn’t falter. His gaze holds weight, seizing your breath and rendering you speechless. Ah, he really isn’t good for your heart.

“Keep dreaming, general.”

Despite the scoff backing those words, you make no effort to hide your smile. And though you don’t catch it, Jing Yuan makes no effort to hide the adoration glistening in his gaze.

Sidestep to the left. Duck. Step back. Parry. Clang! Step to the right. Pivot. Clack! Raise your arm—!

A sword flies up, twirling mid-air as it plummets back down and digs cleanly into the grass. It gleams under the artificial sun, becoming a focal point in the otherwise barren grounds. You straighten your posture, spear at your side and a bottle of water in hand as you approach the worn-out aspiring Sword Champion.

“You’ve improved, Yanqing.” You smile when he looks up, breathing ragged as he mumbles his thanks before guzzling down the fluids of the water bottle now in his hands. You sit beside him, and it’s not long before a refreshed sigh escapes him, setting the near-empty bottle in his lap.

A lapse of silence. A faint breeze. A wave of heat. A shift of gold.

You sigh upon noticing the boy’s gaze switching between you and your weapon. “What is it?”

“That spear,” he starts, “I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

“How so?”

“It’s different from the spears the rest of the Cloud Knight’s use and, even though it has a similar aura to the general’s Devastator Glaive, it feels like… it was almost made for you. A weapon that only you can wield.”

For a teen yet to explore the larger part of life, he is frighteningly perceptive. He’s quick to pick up subtle nuances and yet retains that innocent curiosity which enables him to ask questions most adults would not. It’s part of a child’s charm, and you can only hope he will never be robbed of that part of him.

“Made for me, you say?” You cast a glance to your side, vision tunnelling into the fine details which adorns the crafted spear. Despite the many centuries the weapon has braved through, it still appears as though it were only crafted yesterday. Its colours are still vibrant and its exterior holds minimal wear. Your breath hitches when your gaze trails down towards the hilt and hones in on the faintly carved names: yours and the one who gifted this to you.

Your mind numbs. There’s a matching bow which sits in your home, you recall, locked away in a spare room deep within the confinement of your walls. There are other accompaniments, too, surrounding it in decorated, bejewelled boxes filled with handicrafts ranging from everyday trinkets to carefully crafted ornaments carved from the purest of jades.

It sits there, collecting dust all year round. All year round except for one single day — a day when your thoughts surge to new heights and can only be tamed when in that room, cleaning off layers of dust and spiralling into seemingly endless nostalgia. It serves as both a commemoration of the past as well as a reminder for what will never again be.

Immortality truly is a wretched thing.

“[Name]?”

You blink, snapping out of your thoughts. Yanqing, who was sitting beside you mere moments prior, is in front of you with a hand on your shoulder. He probably shook you while you were lost in thought, you surmise. How mortifying…

“Your teacher seems to be slacking off,” you cough, swiftly changing the topic. He doesn’t take note of your awkward transition, but, if he did, he’s done a good job hiding it. “Is he busy?”

“The general?” he repeats in a murmur, chin held between his thumb and forefinger with a contemplative expression. He blinks. “Nope! No clue.”

“I see,” you sweatdrop. Worry begins to pool in the back of your mind, but it is quickly smothered when Yanqing jumps up, bouncing on his heels as he shows off his recovered energy and readiness to spar with you for another round.

You cast one last glance at your spear before standing, following close behind an eager Yanqing as he bounds to the middle of the field with his sword in hand.

(You can still recall him; the young man who gave you these gifts way back when, putting on airs of nonchalance in a poor attempt at masking his bashfulness, the furtive glances, the hand raised to rub the back of his neck, the awkward cough he always did before excusing himself after gifting whatever it was he made that time — all of it is practically ingrained into your mind.

You can still recall him; how could you not when he is the same man who haunts you when in your lonesome.)

--

He’s not here. Again.

You’ve lost count of the number of times your focus darts to the door when a resounding chime of the bell is heard, only to be left with aching disappointment when it turns out to be anyone other than Jing Yuan. His radio silence is concerning, though you suppose any kind of silence from him has that effect considering he always made sure to notify you when he would be busy, therefore unable to visit you due to urgent matters.

Has he been well? Has he been eating regularly? What of his sleeping habits? He’s not overworking himself again, is he? What if he left on an expedition without saying anything?

Your answer appears in the form of Yukong.

“The general?” she repeats, blowing lightly on the freshly brewed coffee before answering you. “While I am not completely in the know, I’ve heard in passing that he has been cooped up in his office. For once.”

It’s practically common knowledge to the Luofu citizens how Jing Yuan tends to be absent from the Seat of Divine Foresight. More often than not, he will appear as a hologram, sometimes choosing to instead give advance notice of his lack of presence. Well, you suppose most have grown accustomed to finding him at the cafe. So for him to now hide away in his office without a word is of course a matter of concern. After all, the last time he did this was years ago, and that was because he didn’t want you to worry about… him.

You pause, fists clenching at your belated realisation. A tinge of frustration begins to creep up, but the concern over his condition is far more prevalent, curling around and constricting your heart as worry clouds your senses. “That guy…”

--

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” he comments, voice languid in a valiant attempt to hide the undertone of surprise at your arrival. He quickly recovers with a genial smile. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your arrival?” 

Admittedly, it would have fooled many others. Unfortunately, you have known him too long to be fooled by such tactics. You’re sure he knows, if the slight waver in his gaze has anything to say about it.

Instead of answering, you choose to remain still in front of the now-shut doors. He doesn’t seem to notice though, as he merely resumes his task in a robotic manner. Except for the two of you, the office is void of the usual stationed knights and his few assistants, making the room feel much larger. It’s daunting.

Your unease does not fade after hearing his voice. No, it only heightens, his sluggish movements and voice laden with exhaustion further spiralling you into a state of distress over his well-being. You watch his slow blinks, head dipping slightly only to snap up to prevent himself from falling into slumber before continuing to sign document after document, replacing each signed sheet with a new one in a never-ending cycle.

It would have been comical if you weren’t aware of the fact he’s been neglecting his health to finish these papers.

Typically, he wouldn’t be having this issue, always having been the type to get his work done ahead of time despite his… less than professional demeanour at times, though it seems the papers have been brought in heavy bulk this time around; that, or they contained pressing matters which couldn’t be put off.

“Take a break,” you finally say, unable to stand the sight of him pushing himself any longer. He doesn’t spare you a glance. If it weren’t for the brief pause in his writing before continuing, you would have thought he didn’t hear you. Teeth digging into your lower lip and eyes narrowing into a glare, you try once more. “I’m serious. Take a break.”

Palpable silence douses the room.

And then he lifts his head, meeting your furrowed gaze. His eyes are anything but bright, a dull glaze coupled with dark eyebags signifying his lack of sleep.

“I have to finish signing these papers,” Jing Yuan sighs out, giving what you assume to be an apologetic glance before lowering his head back down to resume the paperwork.

Unfortunately for him, you won’t allow him to succeed in his attempts.

“And I don’t want you to collapse from overwork again!” He flinches at that, and you know you have managed to convince him when he places his pen down on the table’s surface and relents with a deep sigh. When he finally nods, defeated, the building tension dissipates and you’re able to breathe without worry again.

With cautious steps, you make your way over to the large chair. Having been in this room countless times, it’s easy for you to glide to where Jing Yuan sits despite the darkness which now drapes like a veil over the interior.

When you reach his seat, your eyes harden at the scattered documents, staring at them for a few seconds in hopes it will miraculously burn them, before tearing your gaze away and focusing on your weary friend.

“Let’s get you home,” you mutter. You lean down and prepare to help him stand in case he needs the extra support after having sat for too long. It doesn’t go as planned, however, when he tugs you down beside him and plops his head onto your lap. “Hey—!”

“Just for a moment…” he intercepts, voice heavily laced with sleep. The second you lock eyes, you know it’s all over for you. “Just for a moment, stay here with me.”

And you sigh knowing ‘a moment’ will turn into hours. But you’re fine with that. As long as he gets his rest and can finally let his guard down, you would gladly lend him your lap for days on end.

“Fine.” You shift slightly to provide him more comfort. “Take as long as you need. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

He responds in the form of a grateful smile and soft squeeze to your hand. Within a matter of seconds he’s sound asleep, the steady rise and fall of his chest soothing the dull ache in your heart.

Cautiously, you raise your free hand and reach out to his peaceful expression. His hair is silkier than you last remember, easily threading your fingers through the soft strands to brush them away from obscuring his features.

‘Than I last remember’, huh…

Your eyes trail to the hand clutched in his.

Thinking back on it, it has been a while since you last relaxed like this with him. Life tends to be busy, the cafe takes up most of your time, and Jing Yuan has his official duties to take care of. No matter how lax he tries to play it off, you’re aware he has his hands full with governmental affairs and conjuring a multitude of tactics to minimise losses. That’s the kind of person he is — to badger you about the happenings in your life, yet hide away and gloss over his with a genial mask so as to not worry you.

You’ve always hated that part of him. Why can’t you worry for him? Why must it always be he who consoles you but not the other way around? Does he truly not know how his evasive tendencies pain you, intentional or not?

Questions, questions, questions; all these questions and yet there’s never a concrete answer.

Is he… really so oblivious to the way his secrecy is what spurs your distance with him?

Your hand pauses.

Perhaps steadily drawing a line between you is a pointless pursuit in clinging onto the past, a fleeting hope for everything to revert back to the way it was before; to deny the happenings of bygones which paved the way for the present.

Things will never be what they once were. You understand that. You accept that. And, perhaps, that is what makes it hurt all the more.

Four familiar faces emerge from deep within the hidden crevices of your conscience, ones you have not physically seen for a long time — too long, perhaps. And yet they appear just as vivid as before everything went up in flames, endlessly haunting you when you’re left alone with the silence of your own mind. No matter how tightly you shut your eyes in blatant refusal of their presence, nor the strength in which you cover your ears to drown out the remnants of their voices, they never leave you alone. They cling to you, desperate; the same way in which you are to be free of them.

But even so, in spite of the hostility and bitterness and hurt which remains in their wake and binds itself to their legacies, you cannot help but to wish they are doing well, wherever it is they may now be.

And maybe it’s the full moon glaring down at you which spurs this wishful thinking but, on the off-chance they return, perhaps those of you that are left can gather at the cafe after closing hours and chat about anything and everything, exciting and menial, you have come to experience in the time spent apart.

(Just like old times.)

But, of them, only Jing Yuan remains, and maybe that is why he doesn’t manifest alongside them as a result of this aching nostalgia, instead resting peacefully on your thighs with steady, even breaths; the only indication that he truly is here with you.

“We will be okay, Jing Yuan,” you find yourself whispering as you gaze down at him. “We’ve made it this far, and we’ll continue on, braving through our fate.”

The image of him blurs, his colours further contorting the more you try to blink it away. It is then you force your eyes shut, lean down towards him, lightly brush away his fringe and press two fleeting, chaste kisses: one against the skin of his forehead and the other atop the mole under his left eye. “If not for myself, then, for you, I’ll be okay.”

Whether that’s to reassure you or him… you’re not sure.

For as long as you can remember, Jing Yuan has always been with you.

It wasn’t merely a matter of staying by each other’s side during the day; no, it’s more than that. Your relationship runs deep — centuries bordering a millennia worth of memories tucked away in the crevices of your mind — and it would be an understatement to say you know each other like the back of your hand.

Together, the two of you have been through it all, in practically every sense of the word.

--

Despite enlisting into the Cloud Knights, it was far from what you wanted, instead aligning with the demands of your parents. To have that expectation of continuing your family’s tradition, to have that burden of battling for the Xianzhou Luofu’s legacy, to have that constant worry of one day being mara-struck due to your race, to perhaps never be able to do what you want for yourself, shackled to generations of family service… that was the meaning of your existence. Whether you liked it or not.

You eventually gave up, simply accepting your unwanted fate and following the hollowed footsteps carved by your ancestors. That was how you ended up amongst the new recruits for the Cloud Knights and listening to the current general’s speech about glory and honour and pride — all for the Xianzhou Alliance; all for the Xianzhou Luofu; all for the Cloud Knights.

Fate is such a weird thing, you remember thinking to yourself as your gaze swept across many others in the same uniform as you. Because despite you all looking the same, despite you all holding the same make of spear, you knew their passion and dedication to serve the alliance would far outweigh your own.

He was no exception.

Contrary to you, the boy who stood a couple rows in front wanted to be there. It was obvious in the way his eyes glimmered, the way he held himself in an upright posture and focused with rapt attention on the general at the front. Perhaps that was what caught your eye back then — the pure, unadulterated desire rolling off him had rooted you in place and forced your attention to be on him.

With a sigh you averted your gaze. There was only one thought which resonated within you in that brief moment: you would never grow close to that boy.

For, unlike you, he was made to shine under the glow of the artificial sun, while you were a passionless bystander relinquished of your fate.

--

It wasn’t long before you made a name for yourself amongst the new recruits of the Cloud Knights. It stemmed from a training session-turned-competition. One which you came out on top.

A natural prodigy is what they called you.

A lucky fluke is what they whispered behind your back.

Looking back, you’re not sure why you tried so hard. Did you think you would have it easy if you won? If anything, it probably made your future that much more troublesome with weighty expectations and watchful eyes from those around you.

Well, there went your quiet life.

At least it couldn’t be as suffocating as it would be back at home. The most you would receive are jealous glances from your weaker peers, or urges from your trainers to try a bit harder. But what reason was there to try when the outcome never changed?

“Why are you here?”

“Huh?” When you looked up, hands still gripped tight around the length of your training spear, your unimpressed eyes met pools of gold. They widened upon contact.

“Wait— that’s not what I—!” he had cut himself off with a sigh, pink dusting his cheeks. He quickly regathered himself and faced you once more. “I mean, why are you here when you clearly don’t want to be? I watched your matches earlier, but there was no light in your eyes… Kind of like now.”

Was that the expression you had? You would never know. What you did know was that the boy was persistent. Evading the topic would not work on him and, quite frankly, you were tired.

“I’m only here because of my parents,” you began. Your fists clenched and your eyes hardened as you lowered your gaze to the grass. “I hate my fate. I have no say in what I can or can’t do in my own life. That’s all there is to it.”

There was a moment of silence after your sombre words. Maybe now he would leave you alone and be on his way. Just like it should be. Someone like him who shines above the rest has no business with you, whose passion was extinguished before it could manifest.

“That’s not true.” Your gaze snapped up, words of protest ready to be let loose only for that burst of anger to dissipate the second you locked eyes. “You can escape your fate.”

“Hah! What nonsense are you—”

“Because that’s what I did.” You blinked once, twice. Your disbelief must have been obvious by the way he flushed slightly, the crimson tinge spanned from the tips of his ears to the apples of his cheeks. “I mean, my ‘fate’ was originally supposed to be a scholar or some kind of official in the Realm-Keeping Commission and follow my family’s footsteps, but look where I am now. I’m nowhere near that.” 

It was strange. He was not supposed to be someone similar to you. He was supposed to be someone you could only gaze at from afar. He burned brightly; you did not.

And yet, through his next words, you discovered that you, too, were capable of dreaming and hoping, the light suddenly appearing in what you deemed to be an abyssal darkness.

“I’m now a Cloud Knight, and I believe that you can also change your fate!”

A sense of camaraderie formed between you and the golden boy that day, an odd, tingling warmth coiled around your heart. Though an unfamiliar feeling, you found you didn’t hate it.

--

“Master asked about you today.”

“Tell her my answer is still no.”

“You don’t even know what she asked about!”

“Don’t need to.”

A sigh came from your left at your instant retorts, but that didn’t bother you. The sun was still up and you were set on soaking up as much of it as you could before Jing Yuan had to leave for his training.

It had been a couple years since you first met now, and you somehow became an inseparable pair; where one of you would be spotted, the other wouldn’t be far behind if not already there.

Well, most of the time, at least.

When Jing Yuan had caught the attention of the Sword Champion, Jingliu, he was offered a place in her team. He accepted, of course, and ever since then he began training under her guidance. As a result, those were the only times you were actively separated.

But by extension, you were somehow roped into her interest.

“So this is where you were.” You grimaced at the familiar tone, turning away as Jing Yuan scrambled beside you.

“Master…!”

“You go on ahead, Jing Yuan. There’s something I need to discuss with [Name].”

Although you hadn’t raised your head, the hesitation in Jing Yuan’s movements were clear. The silence stretched on for a long few seconds before he sighed, “I’ll meet you after I finish, [Name].”

And then he was gone, only you and the Sword Champion remained under the tree’s shade. Blades of grass swayed under the faint breeze, but that, too, came to a standstill within seconds.

“I noticed you didn’t take the oath earlier,” Jingliu said, the silence broken.

A humourless laugh escaped your lips. “I didn’t realise the Sword Champion was keeping such a close eye on me.”

“You’re hiding your talent.” You fell silent at her abrupt statement. Your fingers twitched when she continued. “I know you’re capable of more than you let on.”

What do you know? You thought to yourself as your fingers dug into the grass. You know nothing about me, so stop acting like it.

You never understood why she was so persistent. Was it because of how close you and Jing Yuan were? Had your parents somehow managed to contact and persuade her? What did she even gain from chasing after you when it was clearly a waste of her time? Why…

“Why… why can’t you just leave me alone?”

“Because he worries for you.” Your body stilled at her words. You stayed silent for a moment before responding, albeit weaker than your previous tone.

“I’m fine. There’s no reason to worry about me.”

“…[Name]—”

“It’s probably best if you go. Jing Yuan’s waiting for you.” She faltered at your words, ultimately conceding.

A sigh escaped you when you noticed her fall back and prepare to head to their usual training spot. She lingered however, and cast a glance over her shoulder to regard you once more.

“You should visit our training sometime,” Jingliu uttered, her usual stern expression a touch softer than what you were used to. “It would be nice to train together, and you can spend more time with Jing Yuan. I hope you can at least consider it.” And then you could only watch as she walked away, the hues of the sunset steadily engulfing her form.

Back then you had scoffed at her words, unaware of the bond you would come to form with the members of the High-Cloud Quintet as a result of your wretched curiosity.

--

“Someone became mara-struck on the expedition.”

“What…?” A soft gasp came from your left. “Is that why only you…”

“Yeah,” you hummed. You had no courage to face your friend next to you, choosing to instead stare listlessly at your quivering hands. “It happened so quickly. One moment we were discussing tactics, the next we heard screaming. It was agonising. And then, in the blink of an eye…” you gulped, drawing in a harsh breath as your hands clenched into fists, “I killed her. I had to. I… I was the only one left from the team and she kept coming after me and I realised then I truly didn’t want to die and—!”

Your words came to an abrupt halt, smothered by an all-too familiar warmth. The beat of his heart against your ear calmed your erratic breaths, allowing you to regain some semblance of composure. Even when you could no longer hear the rapid pounding of your heart ringing through your ears you remained slumped against his chest, the fatigue weighing down your muscles.

“Jing Yuan,” you called in a hoarse tone, “am I a monster now?”

“You’re not,” came his immediate response. You couldn’t find it in you to believe him.

“But I killed someone, Jing Yuan! We were comrades in arms and I took her life!”

“The situation was out of your control and it was the only thing you could do. It was for your survival and to stop her from suffering any longer. You’re not a monster, [Name].” His voice was steady like a pillar of support, a calm sound that could make you believe all the prior happenings were a mere nightmare you’d just awoken from. His arms around you tightened and pushed you further into his familiarity. “You never could be. Never to me.”

That day was the first time you had ever cried so hard to the point you passed out, the exhaustion having finally caught up. That day you were left unaware of the tears Jing Yuan held back as he bore witness to your rare vulnerability, vision blurring and heart aching as he internally vowed to stay by your side — until he no longer physically could.

--

As you both grew older within this endless spiral of longevity, you could only watch as he became something more than a mere soldier of the Cloud Knights — as he began to be someone out of your reach and unfamiliar against a golden glow too radiant for you to perceive.

It wasn’t long after that you left the Cloud Knights for a placement in a newly opened cafe, having had enough of a life out of your control and dictated by others. You had stayed with the Cloud Knights long enough and you finally found the courage to leave after your numerous contributions.

And while your family may not have been pleased with your decision, Jing Yuan had been supportive, taking it upon himself to visit you when he could despite his limited free time in-between training and expeditions. The other four of the High-Cloud Quintet would tag along as well, sometimes relaying entertaining stories to embarrass the others or to simply catch up with you during your time apart as you readily prepared food and drinks for the six of you to enjoy.

It felt like a dream to still be able to laugh with them.

Unfortunately, all dreams must come to an end. It was a notion that was so glaringly obvious, and yet it never truly occurred to you; not when their visits gradually became less frequent. Not when you began to notice the tension between a couple of your friends. Not when a familiar cold lingered during the moments where all was silent and you were alone.

It was through those moments you foolishly clung to the fraying hope that everything would turn out okay — that all the budding tension would smooth itself out, allowing for you to all converse like it never happened and to move past the hurdle.

Perhaps it was because you had deluded yourself into believing everything would be okay that, the moment your fantasy shattered before your very eyes, it hit you in a way far more torturous than death could ever hope to be.

It hit you in the form of Jing Yuan returning to you on that fateful day in his lonesome, eyes hollow and empty, body battered and bruised; your heart which beat for him shattered when he slumped against you, your world crashing in pursuit. The after-effects of the sobs wracking his battle-worn being reverberated through your slack form, a seemingly endless stream of tears stung the skin along the crook of your neck as he released his unfiltered anguish within your trembling embrace.

You found there was no need to ask how the confrontation with Jingliu went, for his desperate grip and hitched breaths spoke louder than his voice ever could.

At that moment, you believed there was nothing more painful than the sound of his broken cries — your mind, body and soul yearning to take his pain and make it your own at the sheer despair in his eyes as he seeked your comfort. In that moment, you had never felt so powerless, so utterly weak and useless when all you could do in the face of his agony was lend him your familiarity in the confines of the closed cafe.

Even now, seven hundred years later, you still do not believe there to be anything more painful.

During your quiet moments, you’ve always wondered what it would be like to experience some of the scenes penned in countless novels you’ve read. Would they be just as heart-throbbing as the authors depict them to be? Or would they fall flat and lacklustre when put into a real-world scenario?

What about the stories you’ve overheard during your shifts, or the tales the regulars recounted during the slow days? Would they ever happen to you as well? You’ve always wondered about these things, however…

Just what is this situation?? Isn’t it a bit too similar to that one scene in a novel you recently read? Well, it’s not as if you’re hiding away in the middle of an apocalypse, but the setting of an empty cafe after dark where it is just the two of you still remains the same.

Jing Yuan stands before you, his imposing silhouette prominent against the fragmented brushes of moonlight, pools of molten gold stark against the night’s backdrop. He remains still in the face of your racing thoughts.

The pelting rain (courtesy of the alliance’s artificial weather) drowns your thoughts. In all honesty, you can’t recall how you came to be in this situation. One moment you were closing up the cafe, the next a sudden downpour arrived alongside a drenched general. In your haste to bring him inside, you didn’t stop to think about why he was in the rain in the first place, the only objective in your mind being to dry him as soon as possible.

And so that’s what you did. Only, in your attempt to persuade the man to share an umbrella and walk back home, you were pulled back into him, the umbrella rolling helplessly across the floor as he rooted you in place by the presence of his hands on your shoulders.

Which leads you to your current predicament now.

“What is it?” you ask upon noticing his silence. There is hesitation in his silence. It prolongs in the way a void is endless, stretching on for miles upon miles with no end in sight. There’s a flicker of light in the form of his voice as he brings himself to speak, his words firm yet lacking that usual self-assured intonation he always has.

“Am I someone close to you? No, do you consider me as someone close to you?”

“What nonsense are you…” your words die out when you fail to see his usual air of playfulness, a grave countenance piercing you in its stead. “Of course I consider you as someone close to me. I wouldn’t have spent centuries upon centuries by your side otherwise.” He doesn’t seem to take your light jest well, if his darkening expression has anything to say about it.

“Then why are you still formal with me, even when in private and away from prying eyes?”

“Because you’re one of the Seven Arbiter-Generals, while I am a cafe employee. In a realistic perspective, we are not the same and I’m aware of our boundaries. In fact,” you mumble, meeting his conflicted gaze with a blank one, “I should be the one asking you if I’m someone close to you.”

It’s silent for a brief moment, up until a whispered murmur of “And just who is the one speaking nonsense now?” shatters it.

Your patience, too, shatters alongside it.

“Then what else am I supposed to think when you’re always keeping things from me? You’re always asking about what I’ve done in the day and prying into the details of my life, but what about you? Whenever I ask how things are, or if there’s anything troubling you, you just brush it off like it’s nothing and avoid answering altogether! Am I not allowed to worry about you? Am I not someone who can lend you a shoulder?

You always blabbered about sharing each other’s pain, to not keep our hardships to ourselves, but take a look at yourself first. ‘Am I someone close to you?’ ‘Do you consider me as someone close to you?’ You have no right to ask me those questions when it’s you who's been the one keeping their distance this whole time. What…” A shuddering breath escapes you, your mouth running dry amidst your high emotions. There’s a dull pain which spreads through your bottom lip, your teeth digging into the soft flesh just as your nails do in your palms. Your eyes squeeze shut, and you can only hope it's enough to prevent the well of tears building behind your lids. “What else am I supposed to do if you refuse to let me in?”

You’re tired, you come to realise. Tired of his avoidance and tired of his secrecy. Even if you don’t have the energy to voice your other built-up sentiments, you have an inkling he already knows — whether or not he wants to admit it… well, that’s a problem for him, not for you.

The sigh you release is heavy; heavy with emotion and fatigue.

Your gaze drifts to the window behind the silent man. Despite the ripples in the puddles, the previous downpour has begun to let up, now only a faint pitter patter is all that remains. Seeing how Jing Yuan has made no effort to move or speak, you decide it would be best to leave as soon as possible. After all, there is no fight left in you, only a frail shell hollowed by your insecurities.

When you try to move, however, his grip tightens. You’re pulled closer than you were just a moment ago and his fingers dig into the fabric of your clothing — as though he were desperate to keep you in his sights. Your protests die before they can even arise, for the way his eyes glimmer despite there being no light renders you immobile.

“Do you really not see?” His voice comes in the form of a broken whisper, and you try to suppress the suffocating ache in your heart when he gazes at you as though he witnessed you pluck the stars and hand it to him.

“See what?” you scoff, a weak sound that pales against the hammering of your pulse. “All I see is a coward running away from his problems.”

A cold silence. A trembling grip. A shuddering breath.

“You’re right. I am a coward.” You’re taken aback by his ready agreement, though you’re unable to dwell on it for long when his voice gradually begins to rise, his emotions spilling over in pursuit. “I run from problems I cannot handle. I avoid anything that can be deemed as troublesome. I fear that if I burden you with my pain — with my hardships — you will grow tired of me and leave. You’re already so far away, you’ve always been so far from my reach, and yet…” A strained gulp follows his dying words. “And yet if even your fading silhouette is something I can no longer see, then I don’t know what I will do with myself.”

There’s a plethora of things you want to say, but none can be articulated. No matter how much you try and force the words out, nothing is uttered. Just as you think the words will string together, he laughs, humourless and empty.

“You’re right. I have no right to ask you when I’m the one pushing you away — when I’m the one causing this rift between us. But what else must I do to stay by your side, if not this? Where else can I reach you, if not shadowed by your light? You’re the last person I want to lose, [Name], so please,” his voice trembles ever so slightly, a detail that would go unheard if it were not for the fact it is just the two of you, a desolate silence, and frail streaks of moonlight, “don’t go to some place I can’t find you.” 

His chest heaves in tandem with his shuddering breaths, the only sound which punctures the still air. You’re not sure which is louder: that, or the white noise ringing amidst your senses. There is no room for thought, however, as you barely take note of your lips parting and the words which leave them.

“You… make me feel like a fool the longer I stay with you.” Your words are not loud, nor are they particularly harsh. But with the current atmosphere being so tense, you may as well have shouted them from the bottom of your heart with the way the echo ricochets within the empty cafe.

Even if your words are not loud, the silence most definitely is; deafeningly so.

After your… confession, for a lack of better words, belatedly registers in your conscience, you have half a mind to slap yourself silly. After all, who in their right mind responds to such an emotional, heartfelt barrage with… that.

You, it would seem.

(A petty part of you deems it fine considering the inner turmoil he’s put you through for Aeons knows how long.)

“Do you want to know something?” he asks, leaving you with no time to linger on your life choices. “When I’m with you, I feel like a fool as well.” Your surprise must have been obvious as he chuckles lightly with a gaze never straying from you. There’s a subtle shift in the atmosphere, one which lightens your heart without dismissing the emotions woven into the space between you. Before you can even think up a response, he continues. “Even if I rehearse what I plan to say to you, it rarely comes out the way I want. Sometimes the words don’t even come out at all. It’s always been this way, even before we became acquainted with each other.”

You blink at his words, stupefied. “You mean back when we were first enlisted into the Cloud Knights?” His sheepish chuckle is answer enough. “Wait— you mean— since all the way back then— huh??”

“Yeah,” he responds, voice light and teeming with unbridled affection, “since the moment I saw you in the welcome ceremony.”

????? Since then?! All you can remember is not wanting anything to do with him back then! To think you never noticed anything until he said it now, though technically it’s not entirely your fault since he never explicitly said anything… right?

Yeah, no it’s both your faults.

“I’m sorry to not have noticed anything till now,” you sigh, your head drooping. “Is there anything I can do to make up for it?”

(Jing Yuan just barely manages to control himself from kissing you senseless right then and there. Who gave you the right to be so adorable?? Not him, but you won’t catch him complaining.)

“Anything, you say?” he asks after a cough or two. Your eyes narrow at his behaviour before shrugging it off.

“Well, within reason…” you trail off at his pointed look, your mouth instantly shutting at his expression akin to — dare you say — puppy-dog eyes. It’s oddly cute, though you’ve always found his sleepy, cat-like demeanour to be the most endearing and heart-melting of all. (Not that you would ever admit this to him, of course. Well, not when he’s awake, at least.) And so, unsurprisingly, you relent. “Okay. Anything.”

“Then don’t be formal and act distant in public. Just call me ‘Jing Yuan’ familiarly like you used to.”

You blink once, twice. “...That’s it?”

“Well,” he drawls, “considering how you only addressed me as ‘General’ or ‘General Jing Yuan’, which was admittedly closer to my preference, despite being one of the few who were well aware I never wanted to be a general in the first place, I believe it’s the least you can do to show your sincerity.”

You scoff. “You sure know how to hold a grudge, foolish Jing Yuan.”

And he laughs, a breathy melody which sets your heart ablaze. Then you feel his fingers thread through yours, the faint callouses brushing against the back of your hand a testament to his battle prowess.

His lashes flutter shut as your hand is brought up towards his lips. Just as the plush of his lips grazes against your palm, his head dips, instead planting a soft kiss along the pulse point of your inner wrist. There’s a huff of laughter against your warmed skin, and you’re positive it’s because he found amusement in the way your pulse surged and stuttered under his lips.

Smug bastard.

His lashes flutter once more when they open into a half-lidded gaze, your wrist growing ticklish as his lips begin to move against your skin as he murmurs out, “I suppose that makes two of us, my foolish [Name].” When he turns to stare at you completely, his expression is nothing short of soft — eyes filled to the brim and overflowing with tender adoration doused in liquid gold and a warm, gentle curve of a smile that has you clammed up and breathless.

“Yeah,” you mumble after regaining some semblance of composure, unable to stop the smile which blooms on your lips, “I suppose it does.”

if you enjoyed this, then reblogs with/or comments are greatly appreciated !! <33

[baelarys]

Thérèse pt2

Aemond targaryen X Reader velaryon

Word count: 1644

Warning : anguts,Mention of suicide.

Author's note: I would appreciate it if you read this with the song la nave del olvido by José José

Thérèse pt1

The young lady entered the princess's room, the light curtains blocking the morning sun as she set down the new tray of food and removed the old one.

The room was quiet, although that was nothing unusual; hers lady must have been asleep, or perhaps she was already awake and her deep cloak of sadness had not allowed her to get out of bed.

With quiet, sure steps, he adjusted the curtains to allow a little more light to come in, hoping that the soft glow could offer some comfort to the princess. Then he approached the bed with a bow, watching to see if his mistress showed any signs of being awake.

"Good morning, my lady," she murmured respectfully. "I brought your breakfast. Is there anything else I can do for you this morning?"

SHe didn't hear any response, so she decided to move the curtains that provided more privacy to the bed. What she saw left her cold: The princess, whom she had known since she was a child, was lying in her bed without any sign of life. Her delicate face, as pale as snow, contrasted painfully with the plump cheeks that had always been a beautiful red.

The lady felt a lump in her throat as she tried to process what she saw. She approached slowly, desperately hoping to find some sign of breathing, some hint of life. But there was nothing. The princess, in her deep sadness, had finally succumbed.

With silent tears beginning to stream down her face, the young lady leaned down and took her mistress's hand, finding it cold to the touch. The dried blood soaked into the white sheets was silent testimony to the desperation and suffering the princess had endured.

Gathering what little courage she had left, the lady stood up and headed for the door. She knew that he should notify the others, but at that moment, her heart was overwhelmed with pain. With one last glance at the princess, the young lady left the room, ready to bring the sad news to those who needed to know.

"What?" said Queen Alicent, unable to believe what had happened.

"She... she is dead," the young lady repeated with a trembling voice, her gaze fixed on the stone floor.

"how? Gods, this can't be!" The queen's voice cracked as she sank into her chair, unable to process the magnitude of the tragedy.

The room fell silent, broken only by the echo of the young lady's shaky breathing and the queen's suppressed sob. Alicent, slightly recovering from the initial shock, struggled to her feet, her face reflecting a mixture of disbelief and pain.

"We must inform the king," She said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. "And organize the preparations. Let the Masters examine the body and let the Septon pray for her soul."

The young lady nodded, wiping the tears from her face. The heavy responsibility of the news she carried did not allow him to falter. With firm steps, he headed towards the king's chamber, knowing that that day would mark a deep wound in the heart of the kingdom.

Alicent, still in shock, wiped away the few tears that escaped from her eyes. A grim thought crossed his mind: how would he tell Aemond? He was already dealing with the loss of his daughter, and now he would also have to deal with the death of his young wife.

With a deep sigh, she headed towards his son's chamber. The corridor seemed endless, each step carrying the weight of the news she had to share. Upon arriving, she found Aemond sitting in an armchair, absorbed in his thoughts.

“Aemond,” she said softly, his voice shaking, “I need to talk to you.”

He looked up, immediately noticing the gravity on his mother's countenance. Alicent knelt next to him, holding his hand tightly.

"It's... it's your wife. She... has passed away. I'm so sorry, my son."

Aemond froze, his face showing a mix of disbelief and pain before reality hit him. A heartbreaking sob escaped her lips as she leaned forward, holding her mother's hand tightly.

––––––––––

Queen Rhaenyra entered the council chamber, her commanding presence silencing any murmurs. With one graceful movement, he sat down in his chair.

“We can begin,” she said firmly, her eyes sweeping over each of the councilors present.

The room remained silent. The members of her council exchanged uneasy glances, none willing to be the first to break the tragic news. Rhaenyra watched them expectantly, sensing the tension in the air.

Finally, the Grand Master cleared his throat and stepped forward, bowing his head slightly in respect.

“My queen, I bring news from King's Landing,” he began, his voice trembling slightly. “This morning, the young princess was found... lifeless.”

A whisper of dismay ran through the room. Rhaenyra remained silent for a moment, taking in the information. His expression was a mask of control, although shock was evident in his eyes.

“Y/N...?” she asked weakly “How…? She is dead? No, it can not be. My daughter had no enemies; The people loved her.”

Rhaenyra gave a nervous laugh, hoping that her child's death was a mistake, but she received no answer. The room remained in a tense silence.

“How?” she finally asked, tears held back in her eyes.

"From what it seems, the princess herself ended her life, or someone else did," the maester reported. "There are rumors that you yourself gave the order to end her."

Rhaenyra looked at everyone, bewildered.

"I!? Order the death of my own daughter?!” she shouted, “I'm dealing with the loss of a child and now the loss of my baby and my granddaughter.”

The room remained silent, all eyes avoiding her. Rhaenyra turned to Daemon, seeking some support, but his face seemed unchanged, almost indifferent to the tragedy.

Rhaenyra took a deep breath, trying to regain control.

"You ordered that?!" Rhaenyra asked angrily once the council had left.

Daemon was sitting, looking at his hands.

"It was an accident," he said, trying to defend himself.

"An accident? How could that be an accident?" Rhaenyra approached her husband, anger and desperation in her eyes. "It is a disgusting and horrible act committed in my name, Daemon."

"You said you wanted Aemond." His voice did not show any regret.

"I said I wanted Aemond," Rhaenyra claimed, "I didn't say I wanted you to kill innocent children and women."

"It was an accident," Daemon repeated, this time with annoyance.

"It does not matter!" The queen cried, her voice cracking with anguish. "Your recklessness has cost me a daughter and a granddaughter."

The room fell silent. Rhaenyra fell into one of the armchairs as tears ran down her face.

"My sweet girl... she is dead now," she lamented, sobbing hard.

The silence that followed was heavy, filled with the sadness and despair of a mother who had lost her daughter. Rhaenyra, lost in her grief, barely noticed when Daemon stood up and approached her. He looked at her, his own eyes shining with a mixture of remorse and suppressed fury.

"Rhaenyra, I'm sorry..." he began, but his voice broke. The words that followed seemed empty given the magnitude of the tragedy.

"No," she answered, her voice barely above a whisper. "You can't understand what you've done. You have destroyed everything I loved. My daughter, my granddaughter…” she sobbed, her body shaking with the intensity of her pain. "I will never forgive you, Daemon. Never."

Daemon helplessly watched her fall apart. He knew there was nothing he could say or do to repair the damage done. The queen, broken inside, hugged herself, her sobs echoing in the empty room, a sad melody that marked the end of a hope and the beginning of a mourning that would never end.

The air in the room became thick, as if the castle itself was mourning the loss of its princess. The night, dark and silent, loomed over them, wrapping them in a blanket of infinite sadness. Rhaenyra, lost in her grief, curled up on the couch, her tears falling steadily as the reality of her loss settled deep in her heart.

Daemon, unable to bear the sight of his broken wife, slowly withdrew, leaving Rhaenyra in her pain, knowing that nothing could redeem him in her eyes. The queen, now alone, mourned the loss of her daughter, two innocent souls torn from her life by an act of incomprehensible brutality.

The echo of her sobs filled the room, echoing in every corner, a sad symphony of love and loss that would remain on the castle walls forever.

“Princess Y/N Velaryon was born in the year 113 A.C., the second daughter of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen and her husband, Ser Laenor Velaryon, whose paternity was questioned by the court.

From her childhood and throughout her youth, she was a happy and beautiful girl, loved by the entire kingdom, who nicknamed her "The Jewel of the Kingdom." At the age of 16, the princess married her uncle, Prince Aemond Targaryen.

From this union a daughter was born, Alysa, who unfortunately died while she was still a baby. Princess Y/N Velaryon was a rider of the dragon Dawnlight, a majestic silver dragon.

To this day, it has not been clarified whether the princess's tragic end was caused by her stepfather or if it was the loss of her daughter that led to her own death. Her memory, however, remains alive in the heart of the kingdom, which still remembers her with affection and reverence.”

—True account of Archmaester Gyldayn of the Citadel of Antigua

[biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer]

Hello!! I just want to say first that your writing is extremely wonderful and very talented, I truly enjoy reading your writing !!

I was wondering if you can write headcanons and thoughts in everyone in The Kid at The Back if they encounter a stern and cold MC/Reader , heck even more colder than Geo ! :)

Frore (All x Cold! MC/Reader)

So...basically, turns out if a request relates to either IRL me or my MC I go berserk??? Yippee???

ALSO, ASK BOX AND REQUESTS ARE CLOSED UNTIL MY INBOX IS EMPTIED, THANK YOU.

- Signed by biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer

Frore: frozen; frosty.

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

When you’d first stepped into the bleak, soulless halls of Olympieus University, you felt a strange familiarity amongst the numbing lifelessness that everyone amongst you seemed to possess. If your heart – the one that continues to relentlessly pound inside your torso – had been exposed to the world, cleaved open and picked apart, it would be just as gracelessly chilled and still as this wretched place.

As your days there turned into years, you were depicted as a sociopath, as an allegedly heartless and callous soul that had grown vehemently hateful and bitter over the years. You couldn’t care whether you were revered or resented by the masses, for you were here to rewin your place at your former school. To retake the No. 1 spot, to reclaim what once belonged to you. What should’ve stayed yours.

Unfortunately, now you stand amongst your acquaintances, people whose existence you’d but merely heard of. You wonder briefly, if these would be the people whom you’d develop an alien sense of fondness for.

And with time, you realised you had…

By the time Sol had talked to you for the first time, he’d already painted a magnum opus of your character.

He knew you were a frore soul, one who held a prowess for hiding, stifling or exsanguinating emotions, or any form of intense feeling from situations; no matter how extreme or bizarre.

He could tell, from the moment you spoke to him in that cold, crystal-clear voice, that you were significantly more aloof than the average person, you bore no shyness, no sense of boredom, just a monotone efficacy that he found himself respecting, (along with finding immensely hot, ironically enough).

You, to him, were a mystery. Sure, he’d overheard things about you, either from classmates or Hyugo, but he wanted to learn things about you from you.

In all honesty, he was definitely pretty fucking intimidated when you first approached him, which – mind you – is an extremely rare occurrence for him; but he gathered that you were simply a tough nut to crack and he was going to wait as long as possible to gain your favour and eventual love.

When he notices how bluntly and swiftly you deal with problems, how nonchalantly you brush off insults or rumours and how you’re so uncaring towards the opinions of others? Oh my God, he’s cumming awed.

He eagerly awaits the days where you drop little tidbits of info about yourself, and even more so the days where he coaxes a little smile or wide-eyed expression from you. Any day where he learns something about you is entirely worth it, no matter how boring it may have been.

Overtime begins to form a genuine bond with you, and as you warm up to him, he slowly begins to show his more affectionate side.

And after a while, you learn to reciprocate. You don’t have to smile, or blush, or anything. Just a hug from you, one that he knows is meaningful, is more than enough.

Will probably just end up stating he likes you without any bullshitting or beating around the bush; he knows you’re more head-on and straight forward, so he’ll do the same.

If, heh, sorry, when you accept, he’ll just die. Of bliss. You will have to just ask him several times if he requires emergency assistance, but he can’t hear you over the sound of his throbbing dick heart. He’s gonna be a beetroot while you’re just…chill.

Won’t try to make you show emotion if you’re just not the type of person who does (or can) do so. He knows you well enough that you’re genuine, and if you come off harsher than intended? It’s okay, he understands. Nothing you do can shake him off anyway. <3

When Hyugo first became acquainted with you, he honestly thought you must be a secret brain-twin of Geo’s, considering your deadpan tone and expressionless face.

In a way, you immediately intrigued him. You weren’t trying to appear mysterious or enigmatic, this was simply who you were. And if there’s anything Hyugo enjoys, it's being a detective. Solving enigmas, cracking open mysteries. You were the perfect puzzle for him.

When you ended up being in the same art class as him, he was pretty pleased. Considering how he often had access to plenty of gossip outlets who dubbed you as a bitch or a pick-me for not acting ‘normal’; having you – the real you – in the flesh was incredibly satisfying. He relished in the fact that he could either prove or dismiss the piles of ‘evidence’ that people claimed to have against you.

Hyugo’s a pretty charismatic person, so he tries to befriend you, but you seem to take a more hostile approach to this; immediately raising all walls and shields. It made him wonder whether this was due to you having nasty past experiences, or if this was simply who you were. Another mystery.

Fortunately, if you decide that these advances of his weren’t to harm or hinder you, you seem to become a lot more approachable. In your own way, which tends to be a more logical, blunt sense of approval.

When you request to start sitting with him, he’s pretty happy; despite how you’re a walking talking enigma, he grew to like you as a person as well. You felt more genuine than a lot of other people he’s acquainted with, and that is a big green flag for him.

Overall he’s pretty accepting of your nature, although it does irk him secretly that you’re harder to read. Until he decides that he’s not gonna bother, after all, he did grow up alongside a Subaru Oogami. 

He only develops feelings when you start opening up to him, and he notices the little faces you make when you’re amused or concerned. He finds them adorable, in a way.

He deems it very rewarding when you bless him with information about yourself, or a hint of any form of approval or respect. It feels like fulfilling a goal, and he’s very much a goal-driven person. It’s like tunnel-vision for him.

He doesn’t know when he exactly felt your friendship blossom into something ‘more’, but he feels like you’re a person – despite your lack of emotional expression, tone (and perhaps knowledge) – who is smart, kind and honest.

He’ll probably try to avoid confessing for a while (he can’t tell if you like him back lmfao), but when he eventually decides to just get it over with and you reciprocate? He’s astounded.

Even if you stated how you felt with the flattest tone imaginable, he’d know, deep down, it was serious.

He’d just be a flushed mess and you’re just slightly blushing. Either way, when you’re in a relationship, not only can he determine very easily that you’re not a bitch, but also that you’re just a very epic individual. <3

Brittney was more so unnerved when she first met you, she was honestly worried you were going to point a gun to her head and blow her brains out.

You just had that menacing emptiness in your eyes and the most nonchalant air about you. She didn’t know how to perceive you; not even Geo was this monotone.

Would mostly avoid you for the most part, until you joined the friend group. Would be silently yelling at Crowe the whole time. It’s not that she dislikes you, it’s just…you’re very peculiar to her. She’s not a fan when she doesn’t have the ability to instantly gain a read on someone.

If you decide to start talking to her, she’s gonna be utilising her confident facade to the utmost extreme, she refuses to appear nervous in front of you.

After a while, when you’ve started warming up to the group – like they to you – Brit decides that you’re just a bit socially awkward and don’t intend to come off as unapproachable as you are. Part of her feels a bit bad for making assumptions about you, but she’s surrounded by the goss, it's gonna paint a picture.

Starts talking to you more, and overtime realises you’re actually very interesting to talk to. You’ve got personality, intellect, sarcasm. She’s honestly very pleased her group was the one you chose to join.

If you get harassed by bullies, and don’t let it get to you, or better yet, defend yourself? She’s going to have a fuckton of respect for you.

Asks you what music you like, you guys end up forming a partnership of exchanging songs and makeup tutorials.

Doesn’t realise it until too late, but she’s really into you. Your confidence, boldness and relatability is very appealing to her. You also have enough self-respect to hold your own in a destructive, sabotaging environment like Olympieus; and that makes her feel a bit inferior to you. For the most part, she’s keeping up a mask. You make her feel secure, weirdly enough.

Will be very hesitant on sharing her feelings for you, knowing how great you are at revealing yours, but if she gets a hint that you like her back, she’ll just get it over and done with.

Is so stunned you felt the same that the only thing she thought of doing was a cunty-ass hairflip.

When in a relationship, she’ll probably ask you to be slightly less stone-faced, and if you show even little bits of emotion or expression, she’ll be extremely satisfied. Will do her best for you as well. <33

110% will ask how you achieved such levels of self-assurance; you both will also be the types to exchange life advice out of nowhere when watching a shitty romcom. :))))

Jess is legitimately terrified of you; my girl is best friends with Gyaru-Gossip-Girlboss Brittney Claire, she’s going to hear at least 21 times about how allegedly never made a single face expression except for pure rage or disgust. 

Will begin to wonder how you turned out that way, ends up becoming incredibly curious about you. She impulsively decides to ask her online friends for advice on how to approach you, realises the next day she’s too scared to take it.

Will honestly meet you through coincidence, and by coincidence I mean you’re in a class or two together.

Ends up realising you’re genuinely smart, albeit a little cocky, doesn’t know how to feel about it. Ends up feeling panic when she ends up sitting next to you one day, after being late due to traffic.

You both actually end up getting along quite decently, so you end up sitting together for the rest of the semester, and eventually, by decision of Crowe Ichabod, you start sitting with her group at lunch.

By this point she probably just feels high levels of respect for you. Well, until she gets a lower mark than her usual 80%s. She’s on the verge of tearing up, until you ask if she wants tutoring. That’s how you guys started texting, and we know Jess is 110% not shy online.

It’s because of aforementioned tutoring and texting that she develops actual feelings for you, won’t realise it until much later though.

It’ll be Brit who ends up getting you both together, either through sheer luck or a lot of pushing on both sides, it somehow happens.

When you walk up to her and ask to speak to her privately, she’s immensely paranoid. That is until you confess very aloofly how you feel.

My girl is just torn, she is shooketh. Then she becomes a stuttering mess and can’t speak to save her life. To her this is both a miracle and a WTF moment.

When she states how she feels about you, you’re just chill about it. When you both start dating though, she’s entirely used to your demeanour, although she does get a smidge paranoid about what you’re thinking at times. You’re gonna have to frequently reassure and remind her that you’re happy to be with her; and don’t fret, she’s also ecstatic she has you. <33

Geo first met you when Crowe introduced you to him and the others, and he did not give a single fuck. You didn’t either. You both essentially avoided one another unless you had to interact, which was a 1/1,000,000 chance if at all.

He only started paying attention to your existence when he noticed you were getting picked on by a bunch of troglodytes. Knowing that you were friends with his friends, he was somewhat prepared to step in if needed; yet your response was unblinkingly, emotionlessly staring into their eyes, grabbing the leaders’ wrist and flexing your arm. 

The guy was honestly a smidge unnerved by how much strength you had, and the fact that those people didn’t fuck with you again made him feel an ounce of respect. 

Your conversations only started when you realised you’d gotten somewhat closer with the others. Sure, you could ignore his existence, but you’re not a pussy, are you? Striding over to him, a cold, machine-like rhythm in your steps, you ask him about himself. He, as you expected, doesn’t answer and glares down at you; so you glared right the fuck back, his distaste matching perfectly with your ornery.

Your relationship only improved because of a mutual respect you had for each other. Sure, you both didn’t get along that well, but each person knew the other was competent, intelligent and able to handle themselves.

And so, overtime, the both of you found a weird solace in one-anothers’ relatability. There was no need for filler conversation, you could simply lean against trees together in serene calm.

Geo would only become truly invested when he notices how little you’ve cracked. If he was a geode (heh, get it?), you were like Minecraft bedrock.

Not that he minded, it simply was a weird anomaly, having someone be colder and more reticent than him.

Would start developing feelings when you stand up for one of his friends, most likely offering to help Brittney or Jess. Not that you deemed them weak, but you just utilising your reputation to get some people off of their asses was…nice. 

You made people genuinely paranoid, and if you pretended like these protective acts weren't from a place of goodwill? It worked wonders. You were the Robin Hood of bullies, you bashed them up and defended their targets to the end.

Of course, Geo isn’t the type to readily accept he likes you, so anything blossoming between you two will take fucking ages. Crowe and Brit will have to be wing(wo)men for you both, seriously.

Advances of his would consist of him being more snarky with you, more intrusive in knowing what you’re doing, ensuring your safety consistently…acts of service, mixed with a strange overprotectiveness. You didn’t know how to feel about it, or him (denial is a river in fucking Egypt).

You’ll have to be the one to confess, and thank God it’s done privately, or you’d have never seen Geo have a faint pink blush dust his pallid face, or him trying to compose himself when he quietly accepts and reciprocates his emotions and feelings for you.

You’re both black cats that just hiss at everybody else, only softening up when in the presence of the other and being content in one-another’s soft company. No bullshitting, nothing overtly emotional, just upfront, genuine feelings with a smidge of quality time and doing each others’ hair and makeup. <33

When Crowe was first acquainted with you, during both your first years at Olympieus, he was intrigued by your guarded posture and stoicism. He’s the friendly type, so he knew he’d end up introducing himself one way or another to you; and as soon as he found himself face to face with you? He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a bit nervous. 

Your eyes bore through him, deep and lifeless. It was as if sheets of ice had abandoned your eyes in pitch-black darkness; rendering the true colours and liveliness trapped beyond unbounding walls of cynicism.

He’d been all smiles at the time, but as soon as your mutual introductions had ended, he was almost convinced you wanted him dead. Your answers had been quick and sharp, like a bullet popping during a quiet night.

When you were put in the same class together, he decided to observe you. He didn’t know why, he just felt this innate urge to learn more about you.

You weren’t shy, he picked up on that quite quickly, judging by your authoritarian aura. What he also picked up, is you tended to be very closed off to people whom you deemed as ingenuine or shallow.

He decided he wanted to get past those beliefs of yours and see what lay behind those gelid eyes, and over the span of the next few years, he did.

Nowadays you were still stoic and firmly logical, but you were well-meaning, funny and kind. Hell, you were smart as a whip, there isn’t much he could say to take you down a notch. You’re extraordinary to him.

And well, one day he realises the feelings and sheer pedestal he’s put you on aren’t…exactly platonic. The racing of his heart when you cock your head at him, that squeeze when you bemusedly smile. He ended up going from inquiring to worshipping. He couldn’t even determine where this had come from.

Luckily, a distraction would be to have his friends meet you! He can admire you from afar and have you close by, he’s lost count of how many times you both have had to move hangouts to study.

What he didn’t realise, was you’d also developed feelings for him. Potent ones; and with the help of a certain Brittney Claire, along with plenty of obvious hints, you ask Crowe out. He’s a tad embarrassed he didn’t end up being the one to ask, but he’s blushing hard anyway.

When you guys are together, he’ll ask you how you prefer to address issues, communicate etc. Your boundaries, hobbies, kinks are talked about with each other, and you both thrive on being honest and upfront. Don't worry though, he’ll still be poetic and a romantic-at-heart. ;]

Deryl is honestly excited when he first meets you (most likely through Crowe). Similarly to Hyugo, you remind him of Geo; and he’s a pretty big fan of Geo.

To him, the coldest people are often the nicest deep down, and beneath their icy exterior possess the most opulent hearts of gold.

So he makes an effort to befriend you, slowly of course, he doesn’t want to push his luck. His curiosity and need for stubborn cat-like friends is powering him through the days of you bluntly telling him to either leave you be or to ask him about himself. He knows you’re steering the topic away, but he’ll let you. For now.

Will ask you if you play(ed) any sports, and depending on your answer will either excitedly ask about your experiences/roles/team position, or query whether you’ve just not had the time, chance or interest.

Will offer to teach you sports as a sort of hangout activity. He doesn’t care if you’re shit at it, he wants to try and see how you act in different situations. Turns out he’s quite perspicacious when it comes to reading people. That’s kinda when he deems you as a not-asshole.

Over time you both (mostly you) warm up to one-another, and you one day offer Deryl some candy. Bad idea. Scratch that, horrible idea.

It made you like him a bit more, weirdly enough. It helped you realise that he wasn’t acting friendly for the sake of it (at least, not with the friend group), and he was just a massive goofball.

You felt a weird fondness for him at that point, and every now and then when he’d ask if you wanted to hang out, you made sure to pretend to think it through before silently nodding. The shock and eagerness on his face made the days just slightly better.

Soon enough, he comes to the conclusion that he also holds feelings for you, quite strong ones, in fact. He’s pretty distraught at first, but then decides to ask the almighty Geo for advice. Not love, that…isn’t exactly a topic Geo specialises in, but more so how to approach such a matter with you. Geo just shrugs in response (he’s such a mood).

However, Deryl, knowing the type of person you were, decides it’d be best if he just mustered up the strength and told you. Running away from the feelings would work for a while, but he just hoped you wouldn’t be too repulsed.

When he gets his feelings off his chest, it’s like a weight was lifted from your soul. You deemed yourself far too unapproachable, too monotone for someone as lively as him; but hey, opposites attract, right?

After you nonchalantly reciprocate, it takes him a hot second to process the positive response, and he’s a ball of pure joy and energy. He’s ecstatic, actually, it’s like a burden had been thrown off of his shoulders.

During the process of you two dating, you’re compared to the ‘Black Cat + Golden Retriever’ shipping trope, and he’s content with that. It’s not a lie, after all. (You just don’t care lmfao). He learnt across the span of your friendship-turned-relationship a lot of gestures or movements which indicated how you felt. 

My guy is as supportive as you can get to be honest, his logic is “If nobody is hurt, it’s okay.” You’re a priority of his, and he knows you won’t screw him over. 

You can sleep well knowing these things: Deryl’s loyal, he’s respectful and he’s a fucking sweetheart.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Jaime Reyes x girlfriend reader where she bought or found a beetle as a joke please 🪲

My kind of humour right there ngl 🦦🪲

I honestly didn’t know what to end this off with so if this comes off kinda goofy and dumb, then let it be goofy and dumb.

Entomophobia - the fear of insects.

Part 2

‘WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?!’ Jaime screeched as he clung to your side, staring down the small blue critter that was mindlessly scuttling the expanse of the desk in your room, with a bug eyed expression while you stood there unfazed before shrugging your shoulders.

‘A mint blue beetle that I had found a while back.’ You answered nonchalantly as you left Jaime cowering by his lonesome as you wandered over to where the beetle was and carefully ushered it into your awaiting palm, before then turning back towards your freaked out boyfriend whom only looked even more freaked out. ‘I can see that’s a beetle but why do you even have that in your house?! Better yet, when did you find the time to look for one?! No that’s not important, what’s important is when was this idea brought about and -did I forget to mention- why?!’ Jaime squawked, almost tripping over his own feet as he tried to attempt to widen the gap that you were so adamantly trying to close.

When you asked him to come over, this wasn’t what he had in mind…

‘You brought that disappointment upon your self Jaime.’ Khaji-Da told him in his mind as the scarab decided to made it’s presence known, much to Jaime’s chagrin. ‘Oh yeah, I sure did, but I should’ve been at least given a warning prior at the very least.’ Jaime muttered, making sure that you didn’t hear him as he spoke back to the scarab. ‘I’m pretty sure I’ve just developed Entomophobia.’ He adds on in a whine just as his lips formed into a pathetic pout.

‘How can you possibly fear such an inferior being Jaime Reyes?’ The scarab practically scoffed at it’s host’s dramatics. ‘We have faced more difficult hardships then this, but if your so perpetually frightened of the damage this insect can do then I shall have not choice but to terminate-‘

‘Those questions will all be answered in due time, so say hello to little blue!’ Your voice cuts Khaji-Da off and Jaime almost felt his soul jump out of his skin when he noticed how close you have gotten in the time he spent talking to the scarab and automatically took a step back; only to realise his shock and horror that he had subconsciously backed himself into a wall and all of a sudden.

‘Jaime?’

‘Jaime?’

…

‘Oh dear, I’m sorry little blue but it looks like he has collapsed.’

[fernpetals]

The Night is Dark #1

Masterlist

Yandere Constantine x Reader

Oh, the night is dark and full of terror. It is true indeed. But you do not need to fear, you darling little thing. You have John Constantine by your side.

John Constantine whom the evil fears just slightly, thinking twice before attacking him. The man, who refuses to put a tag into whatever you two share, yet. But he is the first one to ask if you have reached your place safely, and on rare occasions, he isn't the one dropping you. He is the man to fume if another man as much as smiles at you.

John Constantine whose dark eyes softens just a bit when he looks down at you. His hands reach out to his pocket a he fishes out a packet of nicotine instead of the cigarettes, and every time he looks at your eyes, proud and twinkling under the downtown LA street lights, his heart swells a little bit more.

There are words spreading about you at Midnite's. Hushed whispers, side-eyes. But for now, no one dares to mess with one who has returned from the grasp of the Devil himself.

it makes you a little sad every time Constantine refuses to acknowledge what you two share. Something electric, something pure...

Maybe pure from your end. Constantine is almost ashamed of the nasty thoughts he has about you. Almost because this feels so natural, and perhaps the only thing that feels right about this world. He loves the feeling of your skin pressed against his. On the nights when you are a bit too drunk (you get drunk so easily, it is hilarious for him, but as long as you are under his supervision), he loves the way your lips feel against his, you respond without any question about the true nature of your relationship. It is complicated. He can hold you close without the fear of questions.

Questions, questions, and so many questions.

You ask too much and understand too little.

Can't you see? The moment the wrong kind of people know what you mean to him, they will come after you? Can't you see, he is cursed, doomed to be alone all his life while he drags himself through his miserable existence, searching for a way to save his soul?

Of course, you don't see it. Why would you still want him otherwise?

He cannot bring himself to see that you love him for what he is—in the mirror, he sees a doomed man, but to you, he is the love of your life.

Constantine is a coward. That is why when you drunkenly profess your love to him, he simply scoffs and tucks you to bed like he cares like he loves you back. But in that moment, when he can barely hold back his tears, he does admit it. He loves you too much, for a time too little left.

He thinks you have no memory of the previous night, and acts typically like himself--- detached, unbothered, and the asshole that he is.

But the thing is, you remember everything.

And you confront him about last night---you remember how his lips felt, you remember his soft eyes when he professed his love to you---you remember feeling like you won in life.

But the morning, he denies that on your face

"Do not delude yourself. You were dreaming. I simply tucked you in, silly girl. What were you on? Drugs?"

His words sting you in ways you cannot describe

It is like the final thread breaking after many blows of denials and disappointments. The thread has been pulled many times, and just as you feel like you have reached the top, holding on to it, Constantine snaps it. And you tumble down. Hard.

He is straight-faced, but you like he is laughing at you, mocking you. You cannot listen anymore. you hear everything yet nothing registers in your mind. it's like his voice is a muffled background noise.

Something in you withers. You realize that you have been waiting at an abandoned station---there will be no train coming for you. Ever.

"I need to go home. Bye."

You are surprised at the stability of your voice, even though there is a yawning pit forming in your stomach, and it is sucking in everything good in you and every comfort, every ounce of confidence, even emotions.

"Hey, I spent my morning making breakfast for two---"

You are too focused to care. Too focused on your escalating heartbeat and moving toward the door. Fast.

Once out and sitting in the subway, you allow the realisation to sink that the final blow that has broken your heart was delivered this morning, by none other than the very man you have always anticipated to deliver it, to break your heart. What you did not anticipate is the gut-wrenching pain that comes with the realisation, the acknowledgement and acceptance.

Constantine and you have no future together.

And it is time to give up.

(Do not worry, there will be a part 2)

[lxmelle]

I wanted to make a post on the number of times Gojo and Geto “meet halfway” even beyond death. Just a complication of moments!

Spoilers if you’re anime-only.

Gojo Satoru stops in his tracks upon hearing something roll onto the floor; quickly followed by the voice of someone whom he killed with his own hands.

More under the cut:

Gate open!

The same words upon a 10-year separation. Not “hisashiburi ne” but “hisashi ne” (a shortened version):

(Worth noting: the flashback image of Gojo after killing Geto looks eerily like Toji upon death. There is a deliberate parallel.)

Gojo tries to make sense of what is happening and his six eyes registers the physical information that it’s really Geto.

In processing this he is momentarily flooded with memories of the best 3 years of his life - the Blue Spring 青い春.

Ironically like being flooded with information after being hit by unlimited void, as there have been others who pointed out.

He was rendered immobile with information on his precious memories and that’s what seals him.

His mind was matching up information from his physical senses (six eyes) and his soul (presenting as feeling).

And his soul refutes the information. His mind knows Geto wouldn’t do this. Thus, he knows otherwise.

Here is where he reverts back to “ore” 俺 as his raw and authentic self presents itself for a the moment where he is experiencing heightened emotions from the sacrilege before him that gets his trapped.

And it all kinda sucks because seems unfair that Gojo is going to suffer again for what seems to be a heavily one-sided pining for his best friend.

But then, Geto, who really is unable to react (because it isn’t Geto, as he is actually dead) ... still manages to do something.

Although like a dragonfly whose head has been cut off, it responds. His body appears to be imprinted with information despite his brain (mind) and soul not being there.

As someone pointed out on Twitter/now X, Gojo reacts to Geto’s words/presence and Geto react to his name being called (and possibly also from seeing Gojo in that position):

Gege, thank you for making this a reciprocal moment.

That smug lil smile from Gojo also kinda depicts a small victory that he made that happen. Something, as a reader, we appreciate that even the ancient Kenjaku has never encountered before - the vessel reacting whilst he is the host.

It’s poetic how they react to each other despite the situation where one is practically dead but can still depict sentiments of a strong bond.

Gege follows up on this with a moment between Toji and Megumi to illustrate another example of parallelism and emphasis, just 7-8 chapters later:

The narrator doesn’t finish the sentence, but it hints at how the remnants of a soul can still persist within the body if it’s important enough. Leading the body to react even if the brain isn’t there in Geto’s case, and the body in a vessel can still react even if it’s soul information wasn’t summoned by the curse technique user.

It also hints at the parallels between Geto and Toji who died after yielding and “burying” a part of themselves.

The reciprocal nature of Gojo and Geto extends to the afterlife scene.

Can I just add (again) that I love how they’re sitting closer together than compared with when the chapter began? 🤭 yes I like repeating myself because i dedicated a whole post on it before

And I like how they meet halfway there too.

Isn’t it romantic somehow? Last person Geto saw before his death was Gojo, and the first person Gojo saw was Geto in the afterlife.

I wrote this in another post but I’ll include that here too: the top bit is in reference to Geto’s death where his reaction acknowledges that he doesn’t feel he deserves the loving words, but rather a curse at the end.

Link: https://www.tumblr.com/lxmelle/748022415626567680/ah-this-makes-lots-of-sense-especially-that?source=share

And taken from my other whopper of a post on souls because I’m too lazy to write it all again:

The end.

Thank you for sharing in my satosugu indulgence.

Please feel free to share and reblog with other moments worth pointing out! ╰(*´︶`*)╯~♡

[cambion-companion]

Teaching the Devil how to fuck

We all know Haarlep says Raphael is a terrible lover blah blah, and I certainly believe Raphael to be a very selfish lover. It's also hard for me to imagine he's taken someone other than Haarlep to his bed in a very long time. Scheming and planning ya know, it's time consuming lol And how would he be in bed with someone who isn't an Incubus, with whom he doesn't feel double the pleasure? Well, that's why I am writing this.

Raphael x Altheara (my female Aasimar OC) because I wanted to write wings and needed a warm-up

"Raphael, do you ever stop talking?" Altheara brushed her long golden hair, the entire time she'd been listening to Raphael wax poetic about his latest contract with the whole city council.

She turned on her vanity stool, tossing her sheet of hair over her shoulder and mirroring Raphael's terse expression back at him. "Have you any idea just how little I wish to hear about your newest soul conquest?"

Raphael raised an arch brow and his lips turned down in a sneer. "Were I a less magnanimous being..." He gestured with his hands, describing the scene. "...I would pluck your feathers and leave you skinned upon a rack for your continual impudence."

Altheara rose to her full height, still head and shoulders shorter than Raphael's devil form. She approached him in measured steps, her eyes glinting like topaz in the firelight. "You're more full of bluster than an autumn evening." She flexed her feathered wings and tilted her head up at his glowering face. "You need me."

"Ah, pet." Raphael's voice had taken on a gravelly edge. He took Altheara's chin between finger and thumb, stroking her cheek gently. "You are wearing out your welcome."

"Yet you are here, in my chambers, lingering long after my 'use' to you has expired." Altheara's amber eyes flicked between his. "Why?"

Raphael pulled in his chin, once again momentarily bemused by her directness. "Perhaps I want to see just how far I can make an angel fall."

During their long and tenuous partnership, Altheara had felt the tension between them building like water behind a dam. It was finally about to burst.

The fabric of her deep blue dress rustled as she moved, her wings urged on her movement with one sweeping motion. She pressed herself against the heat of the cambion, his hands cradling her hips as she kissed that ruby mouth of his. At last, silencing him.

Raphael met her embrace with surprise, then curiosity, which melted into fascination. He tugged her closer, his fingers exploring how her soft flesh felt under his probing touch, the silk of her dress slipping like water under his hands.

Altheara guided him non-gently to her bed where he sat, a brow raised as he looked amused and intrigued up at her.

"You are aware," Raphael mused, his hands resting either side of where he sat as she moved to straddle him. "That I have an incubus at my beck and call?"

Altheara ignored him, she began pulling at the heavy metal of his skull-adorned belt. "This is utterly hideous, by the way."

"That whatever pleasure you offer dulls in comparison to what they can give me."

Altheara glared at him, her teeth clenched, her brass wings folding slightly as an innate sign of her sudden doubt. "Yet here you remain, quite the willing companion."

"I admit my curiosity, yes." Raphael indulged the Aasimar, his infernal eyes glimmering from within. "I've made no secret that I find you a most alluring creature."

Altheara leaned into him again and kissed at his neck and throat, her hands sliding up under his shirt to caress his sides. "Then stop being an ass."

"So spoke the 'aasimar'." Raphael groaned quietly as Altheara bit the skin of his shoulder in response, then he chuckled, still not touching her in return. "Shall I set the mood, my dear?"

He clicked his fingers and Altheara breathed in sharply, pulling her head back as both she and Raphael magically lost all of their clothing.

Her eyebrows raise and she fought to not grimace. "Raphael...that does quite the opposite to 'setting the mood'."

A slight frown tainted Raphael's confident smirk. "Not the response I was seeking, angel."

"Put my clothes back on, devil." Altheara spoke firmly, her hands moving to cup his face and smooth down to his shoulders. "It seems I am to educate you on how passion is played out."

Raphael was loathe to obey orders from anyone, especially a celestial entity. However, he found himself intrigued what she wished to have happen.

He magicked their clothing back onto their bodies and Altheara smiled. "Good. Thank you."

Altheara took her time. She slowly undressed Raphael, her lips following where her hands went, never touching but close enough for him to feel her warm breath on his skin.

She pressed her weight against the cambion's towering form, her mouth almost touching his heated chest, teasing, until with a low grumble he pressed forward against her in return. She smiled as she began pleasuring him, allowing him some control yet also taking an equal amount for herself.

Reticence turned into heated exchanges, hands ran over flushed skin and Raphael at last carefully pulled Altheara's dress over her head and tossed it blithely to the floor.

His hands explored her, and she gasped as he groped her chest roughly, grabbing his wrists with a furrowed brow. "Gentler." She showed him and after a moment he took over, squeezing and pinching.

Raphael reclined onto his back, pressing into the bed as he gripped her thighs possessively. "Show me more of what you can give."

"I'd think a devil would have better grasp on the concept of give and take." Altheara sighed through her pleasure, her wings spreading behind her for balance as she began moving more earnestly. "This is an exchange, Raphael."

The reply was torn from his lips as she sunk upon him, connecting their bodies with her own gasps of both pain and bliss.

She leaned over him until their mouths met in yet another fierce kiss. Raphael ran his hands up her back and into her downy feathers, his sharp nails digging into them. Altheara tensed and broke their kiss to look into Raphael's lidded eyes. "We have a contract."

"I will not harm you." Raphael's touch was sharp but didn't pierce her skin. "So eager, but still a flighty little thing."

"Move with me." Altheara pressed her hands to his chest, then his sides, gripping him tight as her wings flapped gently, her body shuddering as Raphael began to move his hips as well.

"So demanding." Raphael groaned again, his pleasure building slower than her own. "It's a wonder I tolerate you."

"You want me." Altheara's breath caught in her throat.

Raphael gripped the arc of her wings, his torso flexing as he curled up into her. "Yes."

The little death that followed led to many others. Many more nights of exploration exchanges of intimacy. Like twin fire suns orbiting each other, Raphael and Altheara could not pull away from each other. And for the first time in centuries, Raphael found himself willing to learn.

[thoughtfullyrainynightmare]

A/N: I have a couple of requests in my inbox that revolve around the idea of Fuegoleon having a really beautiful wife, for whom he falls madly in love with at first sight. So... I decided to do a little something something~

Hope y'all like it! ^^

Summary: Fuegoleon didn't plan on falling in love unexpectedly, because who really *can* plan for the unexpected. But... he doesn't regret a single day spent with a beauty, such as yourself

Genre: Romance, fluff Fanfic type: Oneshot Pairing: Fuegoleon x f!reader Word count: ~0.9k Contains: just fluff and adoration and him being very smitten

The things was that… Fuegoleon pride himself as a man of rationality. Someone who, if eventually he would do so, would fall in love gradually. It’d be orderly, and logical. Something he could see from the distance.

He thought that falling in love, would taste more like a choice; a decision.

But the fates decided against it. Instead, they served you, wrapped in a smile and kind eyes.

He couldn’t look away. He couldn’t deny the longing. Even if he tried. And oh how he did try.

Because it wasn’t sensible. It wasn’t planned or rational. It wasn’t expected.

While, sure, he could see that you were a beauty. He could hear the remarks and comments of adoration, even if only implied. The sentiments and wishes and wonderings that were shared only in whispers. The ‘if only she was mine…’

All of that he could hear and see, and he knew it to be logical. After all, you were beautiful. It was clear as day. A fact, uncontested, and known by all who laid their eyes upon you.

But… feeling the pull. The swaying of his heart. The way it rattled his ribcage from the inside and tried to break free, confess its undying love and affection to you; all of that he couldn’t reason or rationalize. The feeling that seemed more consuming than his flames that could burn and engulf. His very soul that was composed of fire and passion.

All of that came second to how he felt about you. How he longed for you, despite never having known your touch.

The sheer idea of feeling your soft skin on his cheek; your palm placed onto the side of his face so that he might close his eyes and sink into the sensation… The sound of your voice; speaking out an utterance, soft like silk and tantalizing and decadent like salty caramel… And the softness of your very soul; wrapped around his… Oh how he wished it could wrap around his. Even if only to embrace for a tiny moment. A fraction of a second… one fifth of an eternity.

Fuegoleon Vermillion, was a man of reason.

But when you came around, reason was left in second place with his emotions.

Especially when those tender gazes he imagined, became a reality. When the sound of your hushed whispers, flowed to his ears. And when the taste of your lips… became imprinted onto his…

The sacred taste he couldn’t describe, even if given an eternity and a day.

But it was a taste he didn’t want to go without. The idea of not having your mouth dance over his. Your arms wrap around him, and the sound of your laugh… play the sweet melody to him that

Though, the best of all, was the way your soul fit so well next to his. The kindness, compassion, strength and regality, while being different from his they just… fit. All of it. All of you.

It was like a missing piece he didn’t know he needed.

He might have wished for it, but he didn’t know he needed it. Not until he met you.

He didn’t know how he needed to place his hands onto the sides of your face, and tilt your chin up, just so that he might place his lips against yours and drink your love and affection, as if from a sacred chalice. How he needed to know that you were sleeping next to him, safe and sound. That your smile and laugh were still there. In the next room, the same city, the same world… somewhere, even if you were apart for a time that always seemed far too long.

Even if he loved coming back to you. Returning to you. Perhaps just so that he could lift you up and spin you around, to hear the sweet melody of your joy and relief, knowing that he had returned back to you. To feel your embrace squeeze him just that much harder.

And… he would have been lying if he said that he wouldn’t have felt a trickle of pride, when he saw the envious gazes of other around. That he wouldn’t have, even if only a little, drank up the knowledge that out of everyone, you had chosen him.

They might have been envious, but he was… well, he wasn’t a jealous man. But he was territorial. And since jealousy aligns with territoriality, he supposed that… perhaps… it wasn’t the worst thing in the world to be. Especially since he noticed himself to be holding his head a little higher when you walked with him down the street, or simply stood by him during an event.

A true, genuine beauty. Heart and soul that matched the exterior.

He considered himself the luckiest man on earth, and he didn’t miss a day to remind you of it. Show you it. Just how utterly, soul-consumingly in love he was. Because you deserved to know. While, much to his dismay, he was a mere mortal man, and the tools that were at his disposal to show you it, tell you it, were far too limited to his liking.

Even the words “I love you, my heart, my soul, my beloved, one and only” weren’t enough. So… he’d have to try to prove himself day after day, after day.

Which… he wouldn’t mind

[tellmeallaboutit]

knock knock (Raphael x F!Player)

Chapter 9, Where You Get Sobered Up (It's Not Nice)

AO3

The hellfire swallowed you whole; and then it spit you right out.

"What got you laughing, piccola? I’d love to hear that joke." 

Your laughter died in your throat. You blinked, the world still spinning slightly as you tried to piece together the blurry memories of events and places and people and... Why did everything hurt so much? Especially your head. It’s like you had a hangover from over drinking some apricot-scented schnapps.

Ah, wait, you know why. 

You were not on a burning pyre anymore, no longer tied up and contorted - instead, you found yourself strewn across the tangled and rumpled silk sheet of an all-too-familiar bed. The mansion's bedroom. Raphael was there beside you in his mortal guise; bare as the day he was born, his skin dewy with sweat. His hand lazily draped over your hip while another cradled a half-smoked cigar. His cock lay semi-flaccid but still glistening from...

Sex. Lots of sex you just had. Back in the Middle Ages. Back in the cloister. Right? But why was there... why was everything underneath you so sticky and wet and why were there handcuffs dangling from the bedpost? The whole room reeked of cum, apricot lube, and juices.

"We had sex," you said, and the sentence died somewhere between a question and a statement.  “We had sex?”

You didn't know why you were asking the obvious. You didn’t really know whom exactly you were asking, either. Raphael burst out laughing, as if he had heard the funniest joke in the world, and there was something unnaturally agitated in the way he did it, something...

Was he high? Or just stupid happy?

"No love," he corrected with a smug smirk as he exhaled smoke, "We didn't have sex; we fucked. Like bloody animals. I haven't had such a riot since my twenties."

At least you knew whom you were asking now, and it was not the guy you thought you had fucked all night.

"Here?" you asked, nodding at the bed.

"Everywhere," Raul said with a snicker. "Every-fucking-where. Why, did I screw your brains out? Do you even remember your name? You seem to forget mine quite often."

No, you didn’t screw my brains out, Raphael did, you thought but said nothing. Raul hand trailed down your side to settle on your hip.

Where was Haarlep, even?

Was there ever a Haarlep?

"No, no, I just can hardly believe...what happened...whatever happened." You paused, taking in the clues scattered around the room: two empty bottles of wine (explains the headache), another half-drunk one, remnants of your t-shirt strewn about, and a slickened dildo discarded at the foot of the bed (Haarlep?). "...like I’ve been fucked by a whole football team."

"Ha! Don't flatter me too much. No, it was just little old me”, Raphael stretched languidly from head to toe. “For the record, I can hardly believe what had happened as well. You know, I've had my fair share of wild girls, but you... you fuck me like your very life depends on it." His tone shifted from playful to slightly more serious as he pulled you closer and whispered right into your ear: "You are quite something. Ti amo sempre, baby."

You found yourself staring at a small scar on his upper arm. A vaccination scar? Like those older people had - including your mother. Was it for smallpox?

A vaccination scar. 

Raul must be… how old is he? Who was he, really? And what did he do to you all night?

"Aren't you going to say anything?" Raul's voice interrupted your thoughts, an edge in his voice. "To the man who made you scream so loud security came knocking? They probably thought I was murdering you."

"I... I love you too," words stumbled out of your mouth. He nodded in satisfaction and then you added while continuing to stare at his scar,"...Raul.”

"Much better," he said, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. "I love hearing you say my name."

“How old are you, actually?", you asked, and realized how sore and bruised the back of your throat was.

"Why? Old enough for you to call me daddy," he teased. "I'll be celebrating forty-eight in a few months. We should throw a party. How about having one on a yacht? Do you like yachts? I'd absolutely adore gifting you one, with your name emblazoned on the side."

You stared at him trying to comprehend whatever the fuck he was saying - which fucking yacht, why do you need a fucking yacht - where were the monks, where was Haarlep? Were there ever monks? Wait, the monks were dead anyway. Did Raphael really kill them? Wouldn’t that alter history? Or was it already part of history? You need to google the burning of Bamberg.

“I don’t care for yachts”, you said quietly. “Never did”.

“The only women who don’t care for yachts are ones who've never been gifted one,” Raul countered with a smile.

Ri-i-ight. Well, wrong. But you had no strength to argue.

What even happened before you... fell back through time... if that's what really happened... because judging by the state of the room and Raul, you'd gotten up to something with Raul, not Raphael... how could this possibly add up? 

"So… eh, did you interrogate me? You don't think I work for Interpol anymore?" you asked, remembering whatever it was you had been arguing about before. 

"The bad guy inquisitor certainly put the little witch through a wringer, but she held her own. Took it all like a good girl," Raul flashed a wink at you. "If fucking like that is part of your cover, then consider me eternally fooled”.

Raul leaned over and pressed his lips against yours; reality hit you like a ton of bricks - there was no way in hell you could handle another round. You were utterly spent; completely wrung out. Every single inch of your body screamed in protest. 

"I can't... not again," your voice wavered beneath him as you scrambled to find the right words to appease him. "Raul… baby… please, I'm sore all over."

Your wrists and ankles were bruised from ropes, your skin felt like it had been burnt, your neck felt like there were still hands around it, and you’d rather not think about the ache between your legs. 

"Ah, don't you worry,” Raul cooed. “All will be fine come morning, I promise. How about I kiss my sweet girl all better?”

His lips traced a gentle path down your breasts and belly, seemingly intent on going lower. 

“Raul, please”, you whimpered. “I am done for today”.

“As you wish”, he sighed with a hint of disappointment. “What’s the matter, gattina? Feeling some post-coke blues? They’ll pass.”

Post-what blues? 

Did he snort coke? Did you? Was this all a hallucination? No way, coke doesn’t cause hallucinations or does it?

Maybe it’s Raul dreamt doing all those things while you were with Raphael in the Middle Ages? You preferred this version of events.

"Did we… did I… what?”, you asked. “I thought you were against drugs. You said Isabel had a habit”.

He said that in that really judgy tone, too.

“Anya," he chuckled, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on your shoulder as he spoke. "Isabel had quite the habit, and we just let loose a little. It’s fine to indulge every once in a while, piccola. Honestly, for someone who seemed so into it…”

“I don't do drugs," you protested vehemently. "I've never done drugs, come on, I know myself. I wouldn't... I couldn't..."

"The hell you wouldn't," he guffawed. "First time, huh? Is that why you rubbed it on your pussy? I thought you were just being kinky."

You did what now?

“Dear God”, you mumbled under your breath and dove face-first into the pillow from sheer mortification. “I cannot have done any of that.”

"You're so cute when you act all innocent and not like you've been the naughtiest little kitten all night”, Raul chuckled again. “Fine. Get some rest, gattina. Tomorrow is another day”.

Raul reached for his iPhone. The FaceID failed to recognize him from the awkward angle and he punched in his passcode (3-6-5-2-3-6, note it, 3-6-5-2-3-6) before setting an alarm - first for 7:30 am, then after some contemplation, another one for 7:45 am. He fluffed up his pillow next, pulled your hips and positioned you to provide him maximum warmth and snuggled against your back.

“I have to say”, Raul slurred out sleepily, words tumbling over each other, his hand sliding in between your thighs to cup your sex. “I am very happy to have met you. Very happy indeed. You make me feel...words can't even capture it. More powerful, manlier, younger, luckier... When was the last time I scored five times in one night?”

Five times?

"I'll spoil you rotten tomorrow," he promised, his voice fading as he drifted off to sleep. "I'll give you everything and more."

Raul tugged you closer into a spooning position and he was warm and sticky against your back; both of you were hot messes. 

Your gaze remained fixed on the wall. Was there even Raphael? Was there ever a witch hunt? Where was Raphael right now? Why wasn’t he jealous of... He should be jealous! He should be... He better be. 

You are his mouse.

Your breathing was getting more and more ragged, Raul's more and more stable. If you got pregnant tomorrow, you'd have three potential fathers, two of them might be imaginary. Does it even matter who the father is if they all looked the same? God, your head hurts.

You waited until Raul was stark asleep, and wriggled away from his grasp (he held on surprisingly tight). As you tried to find your balance on your legs, you looked at his - no, Raphael’s, handsome face. Then, you dragged yourself to the bathroom to find out what yours looked like… 

Holy mother of god.

You had black trails all over your face - where your mascara had run - red marks of fingertips around your neck. Your lips cracked. Your eyes went downwards - red welts on your skin, dried up cum between your legs, hickeys, bite marks, scratches, bruises. 

You resembled a poster girl for a “call help before it’s too late” domestic abuse campaign.

Was it too late to call for help?

Call who, exactly? And why? Of course you looked like this. Raphael'd (Raul?) flogged you and he had whipped you and he had fucked you raw. You had asked for it. Begged him, even. Craved it... Right?

Right.

You cleaned up the mess as well as you could, came back to the bedroom and looked at the man in the bed. Stealthily reaching for his iPhone on the bedside table, you punched in the passcode you kept repeating in your head.

Please, for the love of God, stay asleep.

You sat beside the bed on the floor (god it hurts to sit so much), phone in your hand ready to be stashed away at a moment's notice. Then you began to scroll through his digital life - skimming over emails, messages, voicemails and texts on Signal.

(AUTHOR NOTE: the translation of the non-english texts are below in the author notes) "Enclosed herein, you will find the comprehensive investor report for Avernus Capital concerning the second quarter of the year 2024. It is with great pleasure and a sense of profound accomplishment that we announce our most prosperous quarter to date." "The Catholic Church? Seriously? Is their infrastructure worth anything at all? The leasehold is about to expire and will be abolished... Do you have any inside information that I don't know?" “Quel frocio non parlerà più. C'ho pensato io”. “stp rappelle moi stp tu me manque tro je suis dsl pour tout rappelle moi” "No idea how you managed acquiring G4S mate! Take a bow, you devil. Anyway, ring me up sometime, Thea sends her best." "I'm glad to hear you're feeling better. You can lower the Risperidone dose to 4mg and contact me if you experience memory loss again. Regarding your question, many people are struggling with mental issues these days. Bad ecology, stress, political situation. I wish you all the best. Kind Regards, Agnus.”  "So the Antitrust Commission is through now. Congratulations, you have your own PMC. I didn't think they'd let you get away with it. What do you need it for, even? A coup?" “Questa Berger è pulita come uno specchio, capo. Ho controllato il suo passato due volte, verificato tutto. Non è nessuno. Assolutamente nessuno. Impossibile che stia lavorando con gli sbirri." "What devil got into you? You are lobbying the FDL and you are not even subtle about it? You're biting off more than you can chew, Raul, they'd be coming for you very soon." “tu t'es trouvé une nouvelle pouffe, c'est ça? eh ben, va te faire foutre, toi et ta pute. on dirait que tu l'as ramassée sur le trottoir... Je parie qu'elle te laisse faire des trucs bien dégueulasses... DESOLEE d'avoir un MINIMUM de respect pour moi-même et de dignité, fdp” "Damn Raul, they have no more money and no more power because nobody goes to the bloody church! Nobody with half a brain anyway. God is dead, man, people aren't stupid enough to believe fairy tales anymore”. “So, think your money can buy you respect and esteem, huh? No, it won't. They'll always see you as nothing more than a mafia boss's son.” “Larian Studios? 70% private, 30% Tencent. Not scalable, no real profit potential, a pretty lacklustre ROI. Besides, the owner doesn’t want to give up full creative control. Are you sure I should double our offer?”. “they signed it haha THE STUPID FUCKS SIGNED YOUR DEAL you fucked them HARD damn now will control all the fucking borders I really just cannot believe that” “ok tu sais quoi tu peu aussi me faire tout ce que tu veux juste rappelle moi” “Kötter is top notch. Five years in Syria. You won’t find a better one”. "You know what? For once, I'm buying into your 21st century investment thesis. Climate change, wars, droughts, refugees, resource scarcity - yeah, people will start praying to God real good again." "J'ai vu un diable, ouais, j'ai vu un putain de monstre. Je suis désolée de t'avoir fait du mal, je suis désolée d'avoir parlé de toi comme ça, je prends des médicaments maintenant, JE VAIS BIEN MAINTENANT D'ACCORD?"

There were files too, lots of them. PowerPoint presentations, password-protected, emails coming in, notifications flashing non-stop.

Raul barely acknowledged the barrage of messages he got (the French ones never stood a chance), leaving them on "read" or replying with curt "ok"s and "got it"s. His longest recent message was to you, mentioning he'd be late for dinner.

So much you got: Raul is building up power. They both are, Raul and Raphael. They are building up power of enormous proportion, rapidly so, and then, well then it’s Raphael brave new world, which you promised to serve forever. 

Did you put that in writing? The scribers sure did. 

"I will serve the devil to my last breath and beyond."

Your words?

Your words. 

You meant them?

You sure meant them when you were high as a kite and about to burn in hellfire.

God, your head was killing you. Can you take ibuprofen right after cocaine? Google, can you?

SEEK HELP NOW

FEDERAL ADMINISTRATION OF DRUG CONTROL

Fuck you, Google. Soon the only answer you would be allowed is to “All Hail Archangel Raphael”. Who, by the way, does coke. 

Never-mind. Focus, Anya.

Why was all of it happening to you, how did it start, what happened?

YOU INSTALLED A MOD. THAT'S ALL YOU DID. 

They should write it in the history books: that's all she did before they paint you as some Eva Braun.  Sure, you handed over the Crown of Karsus to Raphael, there's no denying that part. To rule Torils and Hells. And that's it. Not to buy military contractors, not to lobby some conservative shitheads, not to exploit Catholic Church’s influence, not to do whatever the fuck he was doing there and WHY, can't he just...?

Why couldn't he play medieval inquisitor with you, burn the bad inquisitors, be cool and evil? Live comfortably, read some poetry, go to the theatre? Collect some debts from non-name NPCs? Just... calm the fuck down? Rule Toril and the Hells with you by his side? 

In fact, that’s where you both should be. That’s where you wanted to escape to. That's where you loved Raphael most. You'll move in with him there, you'll still be a good little mouse, you'll always be a good little mouse, but just, you know, you’ll serve him from some safe and sensible distance of a imaginary world, because WHAT THE FUCK IS HE THINKING BUYING LARIAN STUDIOS FOR? To do what, install micro transactions? You’d get booted off his own discord if you backed him on this.

Apropos discord - you fired it up and check if they have any thoughts on the matter.

They sure do. You were tagged 78 times while you were gone.

okay guys (GN) good news @devil’s favorite fleshlight is not dead I have a proof pic // who is that guy // @devil’s favorite fleshlight got herself an IRL Raphael OMG 💀 // what the fuck is it Isabelle Arnaud’s EX???? whole France was following this dumpster fire it was so bad // nooooooo way (I feel bad to admit it but he is kinda hot tho) // the guy is like 50 CREEPY FUCK // he raped his ex and she ended up in a rehab @devil’s favorite fleshlight did you even read up on him??? check this link /// worse. he ruined Overwatch. this is the guy behind Microsoft / Activision merge. rotten af /// google his lobbyist company and rassemblement nationale /// @devil’s favorite fleshlight stepped up her game and is now a villain fucker IRL /// REMEMBER WHEN @devil’s favorite fleshlight WENT OFF ABOUT TAXING THE RICH? Pepperidge farm remembers// @devil’s favorite fleshlight did you ask him to buy you Larian WTFFFFF sis /// @devil’s favorite fleshlight oh man, your handle sound super unfortunate right now/// @devil’s favorite fleshlight send us a sign if you're still among the living // @devil’s favorite fleshlight is chilling in the American psycho dungeon rn and has fully ascended to Hope status. RIP queen 👑 // now THAT'S commitment to cosplay 

You changed your handle (it was a goddamn joke, for Christ's sake, they all had stupid nicknames yourself) and left the discord server. A barrage of direct messages had flooded in, but you couldn't bring yourself to even glance at them.

Fuck this. You deleted the whole app.

They all just… wished… to be in your place. Yeah. Bet nobody of them ever got fucked by a hot billionaire. 

God, Anya, what? Are you serious? 

A sob escaped your lips, followed by a little laugh.

Why does Raphael have to drive you half-insane like this?

maybe it’s not him Anya maybe you are insane

you remember your own face in front of a black screen of a laptop

there was never a Raphael

there was only Raul, and stuff you very much liked to be true 

You found yourself quietly sobbing, and the most terrifying thing was that the sounds could wake up Raul. There you go. He already stirred and frowned in his sleep. You swallowed your sobs.

You need to go… 

You need to go elsewhere.

You need to go home.

It’s not like you were running, you thought, as you scrambled some hoodie and jeans from your suitcase, trying to be as quiet as a little mouse. It’s not like you were scared shitless and a little hurt, because why did Raphael let Raul fuck you? It’s either that, or you are insane. Are there really no other options?

You only let Raphael fuck you. And Haarlep, but that's beside the point. But that’s not who fucked tonight, was it? Did Raul really persuade you into anal? The discomfort was a very annoying reminder of his victory.

You need to change “fuck the rich” on one of your t-shirts to “got fucked by the rich”.

Yeah, time to take a little break, you thought as you clutched the keychain like a makeshift weapon and cast one last look at Raul in his slumber. Then you made your silent getaway downstairs.

The mansion door closed tight behind you.

Oh no, it’s the creepy blond guy at the gates again. 

Oh, fuck, you couldn’t be less lucky.

Or no, it’s not him. Well it’s him. But he got considerably more cambion-like. He now had wings and horns and looked like one you could summon late in the game. His colleagues had them, too. 

Wings and horns and guns.

Raphael was bringing over his private guard.

"Is something the matter, Ms. Berger?" he smiled, positioning himself with tactical precision between you and your only escape route. Jens Kötter was his badge. "Maybe I can assist?"

"No, I... I just... you know, I just realised I need to go home. Urgently. I forgot something important there. You know, packed in a rush, and just woke up and realized, yeah, I really need that thing, and I need it right now..."

His smile hung in the air like stale perfume. There was something so annoyingly ex-military about this guy with this buzz cut and these dead eyes. You knew the type. 

"It's 1:30 am, Ms. Berger. I am sure whatever you forgot can wait until the morning and I will be delighted to drive you to your former place and help you find that thing and bring you back home".

"No. I want to go now. Alone. Can I go, please? I already called an Uber. Here, look. A driver accepted! Money will be booked off my card now anyway!”

You demonstrated him your phone and the message “Altan Kuzey accepted your ride and is waiting for you at pick-up point in 8 minutes”.

But Kötter's icy blue eyes bore into you, cataloging the marks on your neck and wrists.

“I warned you against calling Uber to this place, Ms. Berger. No matter, I’ll take care of it. Did you and Mr. D'Avergni have a... misunderstanding of some sort?", he asked, his wingspan expanding like a predator ready to pounce. 

"No! No, nothing like that", you tried for a light-hearted laugh but it came out more like a strangled yelp. “Everything is great between me and Raul. He is sleeping, I didn’t want to bother him. He is so tired. He works a lot. No need to wake him up, really”.

You’d think so many times you tried to lie you’d actually learn how to do it.

Everybody kept smiling, all the four guards. They would probably continue smiling even if they were ordered to butcher you right then and there.

"Ms. Berger, I believe you are aware that Mr. D'Avergni is working on a very important deal right now”, Jens began in an unnervingly placid manner. “It's crucial that he does not receive any bad media coverage. He has already faced unfortunate accidents in the past, and none of us want them to repeat, do we?"

What was he implying?

His eyes bore into yours with alarming intensity.

"You're not planning on going to the authorities and reporting anything because you had a little fight, are you Ms.Berger?"

His smile teetered precariously between nauseatingly courteous and downright sinister.

"Absolutely not! Why would I? Report what?" you feigned shock. "Mr. D'Avergni is very nice to me. You mean the bruises? This was just roleplay between two consenting adults and frankly none of your fucking business. Look, it's a me issue. It's honestly just a me issue”. 

Jens sighed, opened his mouth to say something and closed it again.

“Look, man”, you said. “This is a free country, if I want to go, I have the right to go".

"Well of course you are free to go, Ms. Berger. You're free to go...as long as Mr.D'Avergni agrees." He paused for effect before adding: "Sadly, he's currently indisposed due to it being, you know, the middle of the night."

“That’s not what free to go means”, you whispered. “That is actually the very opposite of what free to go means”. 

“Well, in this place there are certain procedures we follow,” Jens said. “I am contractually obligated to adhere strictly to these procedures. I am sorry, not much I can do, really”.

No.

No. 

You were not a prisoner. Raphael would never hold you prisoner. He was not that kind of a devil. Raul…

You don’t have any idea what he would or what he wouldn’t, but you had a hunch.

"I wish you to let me through”, you said with an edge in your voice. “This is my free will and my choice, and this is sacred, because this a free country by law, and law is fucking sacred. Let. Me. Through".

Jens’s face shifted, determination replaced by a dreamy-eyed, enthralled look. He moved out of your way.

Holy hell - it worked?

But why did it work? Did Raphael want you gone or was he hoping you'd stay? Was he pissed off with Raul too?

Was he truly not that kind of devil? 

"Jens, what the hell are you doing?" another cambion demanded, his tail retreating behind him in terror. "He'll flay us alive for this! What the actual fuck?"

“It’s her choice,” Jens echoed softly, his gaze drifting somewhere beyond your shoulder. “Her choice...choice is sacred; that much is true.”

***

"Evening!" the taxi driver greeted you as you stumbled into the backseat, barely managing to keep your balance. "Careful. Is everything okay?"

His smile disarmed you; you had not seen someone smiling so genuinely for a long time, especially that late at night. 

"Christ," you exhaled, wincing as you tried to get comfortable on the worn leather seat. Every movement sent a sharp pang that made sitting an ordeal. "Just drive. Now."

"Why, do we have some company?" he joked, glancing at the rear-view mirror.

“Drive, please”.

The cabbie's expression turned grave; he held his tongue until you were cruising down the highway.

"Relax, there is no one behind us," he soothed, visibly easing up. "Rough night?"

"In-fucking-sane," you muttered, staring blankly at the road ahead. “ I’d tell you but you wouldn’t believe it. No one would.”

"Oh, dear. I’ll put on some good music for you.” he asked, putting on some loud pop. “Bad client?",

"Huh?"

"Did one of those rich fucks give you trouble?" he asked. "I've done plenty of pick-ups from this part of town and let me tell ya, it ain't pretty for working girls."

"I am not a hooker. My boyfriend lives here, okay? That huge mansion in the distance? Yep, his".

"Oh... right…. your boyfriend," he repeated with a slightly embarrassed smile. “Sorry, my bad. So it’s him you are worried about?”

“Well, he gets the devil into him sometimes. Doesn’t even notice it himself”.

“I see,” The driver responded quietly, his eyes briefly flitting towards your neck before quickly returning to the road ahead."Look, I'm overstepping here," he admitted after a moment's pause, "but there's a cop shop at the end of this stretch. Just 'cause someone's got deep pockets doesn't mean they get to use you as a doormat."

"And do you really believe that?" You scoffed, meeting his gaze in the rearview mirror. "Look around and tell me if that's how the world really works."

"No”, he said after some thinking. “No, not really”. 

You shut your eyes tight, trying to block out everything but the grating pop song that had somehow wormed its way into your consciousness.

she may contain the urge to run away

“I just think it should be different”, he continued. “If you know what I mean. Some justice and order in this world, inshallah."

but hold her down with soggy clothes and breeze blocks

“Well, things might get very different soon very soon”, you replied. “Not sure about justice, but a bit more order, probably, yeah. You can thank me personally for that. Could you switch up the music, please?”

His fingers danced across the buttons as he tried to find another station. The next one was static-filled; the following one played the same catchy tune from its beginning. His attempts to find a new song only led him back to square one.

"Ha! What are the odds? Looks like our menu tonight has only one dish."

“Yeah”, you sighed, forehead against the glass, looking at the billboards passing by.

IT’S NEVER TOO LATE TO MAKE THE RIGHT CHOICE 

GO BACK WHERE YOU ARE TRULY LOVED

HERZ JESUS CATHOLIC FOUNDATION 

“Yeah”, you repeated. “I know the chef very well”.

***

You'd been half-convinced you were going to plow into a lamppost or swerve off the road and meet an oncoming semi (especially after that billboard screaming "beware of incoming traffic" at you). But no, you'd managed to navigate your way back to your flat - a place that now felt like a shabby alternate universe compared to Raul’s mansion.

As you approached your front door, something was off. The low murmur of voices seeped through the wood, like a radio tuned just below audible frequency. The door was slightly unhinged too (who wasn’t these days).

With a nudge, it swung open.

Your apartment looked like it had played host to an indoor tornado - papers flung around , drawers yanked out and their innards strewn across the floor, cushions flipped over and books scattered around. 

There were four intruders: one woman taking liberties with your office chair and three men wreaking havoc on your living space. It was obvious your uninvited guests had made themselves at home in your absence and hadn't expected an early return from their hostess.

"HOLY FUCK!”, you screamed, not even because you were so scared, but because you really, really, REALLY felt like screaming at someone. “HOLY FUCK! WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?! WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN MY APARTMENT WHY ARE YOU..."

The shock wore off quickly for them. Their expressions morphed into professional masks.

"Ms Berger," came a voice, soothing yet authoritative enough to make you halt mid-rant. The blonde woman rose from your chair, her hands raised in a pacifying gesture. "What a surprise indeed. Please take a sit”.

You remained rooted to the spot, too stunned to move.

"We sincerely apologize for this... unwarranted intrusion," she began apologetically, shooting a reproachful look at one of her subordinates before continuing. “There seems to have been a misunderstanding on our end, I'm afraid." She let out a weary sigh. "We were under the impression you'd be at Mr. D'Avergni's place tonight."

Her eyes were sharp, her prim blonde hair cascaded down to her shoulders. 

"Who are you? Don’t you need an order for these things or something? What have I done?"

HHer partner stood nearby, his jet-black hair slicked back perfectly and wearing a black suit that seemed molded to his body. He cradled a mug of coffee in his hand, sipping it slowly as if each gulp contained some great secret.

Yeah, you knew that guy. 

"My name is Alyssa Ahlberg," she introduced herself, gesturing towards her partner, who seemed more interested in his coffee than the ongoing conversation, "and this is Christoph Weber. We're with ICPO - International Crime Police Organisation."

"Interpol", you laughed, and then you couldn’t stop laughing. “You guys are from Interpol. Seriously? Come on now”.

So Raul wasn't off his rocker after all. It seemed like everyone was sane except for you.

"That is the accepted abbreviation," Alyssa confirmed dryly. “What exactly do you find funny?”

"Are you guys even real?", you asked without much hope for an honest answer. “Because no offence to you guys but even the inquisitors seemed less far-fetched.”

No, Anya, we are not real, we are your hallucination.

In fact, you are long dead, Anya.

In fact, we are wrapping your corpse in plastic right now.

Alyssa maintained her poker face in response to your question. "Yes, Ms. Berger," she confirmed solemnly. "Interpol is a real organization, I am afraid."

"And Agent Cooper over there is real too?", you nodded towards the guy with the coffee mug who seemed frozen in one position ever since you came into the apartment. 

"Excuse me?", asked Agent Cooper.

"Alright, alright,” you sighed heavily, resigning yourself to their existence for the moment. "I've been feeling... out of sorts lately”.

You sat on your own bed.

"We understand your distress, Ms. Berger," Alyssa said before offering you a glass of water which you took. “You do seem, a bit, ugh, out of sorts. Has something occurred between yourself and Mr. D'Avergni? Do you need medical attention?”

"No”, you shook your head. “No! Absolutely not. Raul did not do anything to me".

Your denial came out sharper than intended. 

They exchanged glances but remained silent.

"Ms. Berger, how did you come to know Mr. D'Avergni, if you don’t mind me asking?" Alyssa asked, her tone deceptively casual.

"Ugh, it was... at a cafe," you muttered.

"A cafe..." She echoed slowly as if she was trying to digest this new piece of information. "Forgive me, it seems rather unconventional for a man of his means to meet a woman in a cafe. Ms. Berger, how much do you know about Mr. D’Avergni?”

You gave her a noncommittal shrug in response. Your phone rang; it was Raul’s number. 

Agent Cooper interjected, "Ms. Berger, if this discussion is causing discomfort, you are not obligated to answer any further questions."

"Why are you asking at all?” you asked. “Why are you here? Did Raul kill someone?"

"Do you have any suspicions that Mr. D’Avergni may have committed murder?" Agent Cooper raised a brow.

"No, I just... No. I don’t".

“That was not what we are investigating, but if you have something to tell us, please do so”, Alyssa said. “We're looking into Mr. D'Avergni's possible involvement in economic crimes. Money laundering, corruption, tax fraud…"

It sounded simultaneously worse and not quite as bad as tormenting millions of souls.

A dry chuckle bubbled up from your throat. "Oh, so nothing too bad then."

Agent Cooper shot you a side-eye before returning his gaze to his coffee mug.

"The ripple effect of Mr D'Avergni's alleged actions is immense and devastating, Ms. Berger,” Alyssa said with a cough to clear her throat. “I wouldn’t write it off as 'nothing too bad'. Listen..." 

She sat right next to you on the bed and gave what you would describe a very empathetic smile. 

“You strike me as a sweet and smart young woman, Ms Berger. You’ve gotten yourself tangled up in something dangerous that clearly isn’t your usual scene. It’s never too late to turn back and make the right choice. Your involvement with this man, judging that you rushed back home this late at night and in this state..."

She let out a deep breath.

"We can help you, is what I am saying. And by helping us with a bit of information, you could help a lot of other people. Mr D’Avergni is not a good man, Ms. Berger, trust me, I’ve spent… quite some years on him. I believe, however, you know that already. You won’t pick the phone up, I suppose?”

Your phone buzzed again; Raul was nothing if not persistent.

“The guy clearly does not understand when his attention is unwelcome”, Agent Cooper muttered under his breath with palpable distaste.

“Ms. Berger, would you even feel safe here?”, Alyssa asked. “We can take you somewhere else where you won’t…”

“I don’t think there is a place safe from Raphael”, you said, and quickly added: “Not that I even would want it”.

"Raphael?", Alyssa frowned. "I'm afraid we have no knowledge of a Raphael in Mr. D’Avergni’s entourage."

You scoffed.

"Raphael is the guy you actually should be afraid of”.

"I see. Why don’t you tell us more about him then?” Alyssa said as she moved a bit closer to you.

“Right. Raphael is... ah… it doesn't matter. What I am saying is that Raul is way, way more dangerous than you realize, and I would never do anything against him, and I don’t advise you to, either".

There was some silence at your statement. . 

Agent Cooper sipped his coffee and stared out of the window.

"I think you're underestimating what we know about Mr. D’Avergni, Ms. Berger. And it seems like we've underestimated your knowledge as well." Alyssa paused before adding, "We could possibly enlighten each other. You should understand by now how serious the situation is".

"You'd never believe me if I told you just how serious the situation is”, you said. “I mean, our world is probably at stake".

“Well, I do kind of agree, Ms. Berger. If not all the world, then at least some parts of the free world, yes”, Alyssa said with a sigh. "Democracy for one. So I'm more than willing to hear you out. God knows there have been things lately that I can't make heads or tails of either”.

Like hell she would believe you. 

God, you were so alone in this, so alone in your madness, not a single soul you could tell what was happening - not even Raul.

"Really? Okay then... I think Raul might be possessed by a devil. He probably doesn’t even realize it himself."

Their faces. Their faces... What did you expect? For somebody to ever actually listen to what you have to say?

"Yes”, you snapped. “Yes, I am totally losing my mind, absolutely batshit crazy, stop staring at me like that! STOP LOOKING AT ME LIKE THAT!"

Alyssa reached out and lightly touched your shoulder.

"Ms. Berger," she implored gently, "please calm yourself down”. She hesitated before asking, “Have you perhaps taken any...medication or..."

"I HAVEN'T!” You shrugged her hand off your shoulder. “WELL I HAVE! COKE! But that's beyond the point!"

To hell with them for treating you like some deranged lunatic.

To hell with everyone.

"You know what?”, you hissed. “Let's test if I am crazy. Let's test it. And if I am crazy, well, that’s not really new, and I am not… well, you will have some damn news. I wish you to... ah... what do I wish for... I wish you to trip over and... Well, I am not a mean person, so... I wish you to trip over and get a small but nasty scratch. Deep. Bloody. But nothing life-threatening. Yes, I wish for that. That’s my wish".

"Ms Berger," Alyssa responded with an edge of wariness. "We didn't mean to upset you but it’s quite clear your mental state is… somewhat disturbed. Maybe it would be best if you took some time out to rest.”

“Somewhat”, you laughed. “Somewhat, yeah. I’ve been burned alive by inquisition tonight. It wasn’t as bad as it sounds, actually, but still”.

That seemed to be the last straw for Alyssa. She slowly got up, and lurched forward - really stupidly, it must be said  - her leg caught on the bedpost and she careened towards the ground like a marionette with its strings cut.

The only person to laugh was you, though.

Alyssa’s face paled to a ghostly white as she looked at her arm in disbelief, like she was witnessing a low-budget horror flick so bad it was almost good. It was a nasty cut all right she was looking at, and it bled more than it should have. 

What did she even cut herself against? She must have asked herself the same question as she searched the floor with her hands.

Nothing. Alyssa looked back at you, then back at Agent Cooper, then back at you. Her voice barely above a whisper, she managed to choke out one word: "How?"

She was scared, you could see that. She stopped smiling, her body stiffened like an icy statue.

“How did you do that, Anya?”, she repeated. 

“Alyssa,” Agent Cooper interjected. “All right, this is getting out of hand now. The girl is already disturbed enough; we don't need to feed into her delusions.”

"I'm not pandering to her fantasies, Christoph," Alyssa snapped back. "What's happening here? Are you trying to get me fired?"

"It's infernal magic," you chimed in smugly, relishing in the sudden shift of power tilting towards you like an unsteady seesaw.

You felt your whole posture change.

You could do magic. It’s pretty contingent on how well you suck a certain devil’s cock, but you could do it. 

"Get a grip, Ms. Berger," Alyssa growled, her facade of calmness rapidly disintegrating. "This is the furthest thing from funny."

"I'll make believers out of all of you yet," you promised, your eyes locking onto Agent Cooper like a missile, and something Raphael did gave you an idea. "I wish for you to choke on that damn fine coffee until I command otherwise."

The gap between your proclamation and its fruition shrank to nothing - Agent Cooper was gagging before the words had even fully left your lips. Nobody dared to write it off as chance or shock; instead, they recoiled from you like you were a bomb counting down to zero.

The expressions on their faces were priceless.

Insane girls can be terrifying, no doubt about that. But the best part was they were starting to feel what you felt – their rules of reality had suddenly been thrown out the window to never ever call back.

"What is happening?" Alyssa's voice quivered with fear. "If this is some sick joke, it's not funny... I swear to God..."

Agent Cooper choked for air, his hands clawing at his throat in a desperate attempt to breathe while he stared at you in sheer horror. He tried to form words, or so you thought. A plea for mercy?

“Are we all enjoying our descent into insanity?”, you laughed. “Because that's how I feel every single day! And do you know why? Because THE DEVIL IS REAL! HE EXISTS! Do any of you believe me now!? Oh and by the way, stop choking, Agent Cooper; I don’t actually want to kill you - I love Twin Peaks."

Air returned to him; he collapsed onto the floor wheezing. Some guy who'd been skulking in the corner was now pointing a gun at you.

"Go on, pull the trigger!" You taunted. "Do it! Kill the witch!”

"Fader vår, som är i himlen,” Alyssa whimpered from her knees. “Don’t shoot her. Jesus, don’t shoot her, we will never be able to explain that”.

"Bet you didn’t believe in God yesterday, huh?”, you smiled at her.

Alyssa sprung to her feet, recoiling from you as if you were contagious. They were all scrambling for an exit now; it was downright hilarious. Little old you, who they thought they could mock, ignore, and bully, not answer your messages, talk shit behind your back, managed to scare four armed people shitless.

"Want a parting piece of wisdom?" You hollered after them. "Don't fuck with the devil! Trust me on this one... I FUCKED HIM!"

They made their exit leaving you alone and shaking; half-crying, half-laughing, completely out of it, crashing on the floor next to bed. 

What did you do? 

Who were you anymore?

Was the whole sequence real?

What do you think, Anya?

What do you think? 

Agent Cooper was searching your apartment in the night, what do you think, Anya, was it real, what do you wanna bet on this one? Meeting the Interpol? They'll be strapping you into a straightjacket next, Anya. Do you have any proof of what had happened just now except your apartment is thrashed?

Doesn’t matter. 

They are gone now anyway. 

You are all alone.

Maybe.

Maybe not.

There's definitely some shadow lurking in the bathroom. You went straight there and turned the lights on; gone, nothing there but your paranoia. Now, your discarded clothes slumped over the bedroom chair seemed alive, as if they could sprout legs and start wandering about any moment. 

Staring at them only fueled your anxiety.

Desperate for distraction, you cranked open the faucet and listened to bathwater gushing into the tub.

And then there's... Raul. Six missed calls from him flashing on your screen. No escaping this guy, huh?

Do you have anyone in your life? Friends maybe? Ha, friends. Busy talking shit while you are not looking. Colleagues? Scratch that – jobless now aren’t we?

So who does that leave us with? Do you have anyone at all?

"Mum, hi. Sorry, it's a bit early to be calling, I know," you said into the phone as you sat curled up in the bath, knees up to your chest. The water was scalding hot. You liked it that way. "I just wanted to hear your voice”.

"Anya, what happened?" came her worried and sleepy voice from the other end. "It's five in the morning. Are you okay? Are you hurt?."

"Can I come and visit you, actually? For a couple of nights, maybe”. 

"What?! Anya, what's happened? Did Raul do something?" Your mum’s words tumble out in rapid succession.

"No," you reassure her quickly as cold porcelain presses against your back. "Everything's fine with Raul. I just miss you."

"ANYA! WHAT ON EARTH HAS HAPPENED?! ANYA!"

"Mum, a lot has happened and we may not always agree (we never agree) but I just wanted to tell you that I love you, Mum."

Now she probably thinks you have cancer. 

"Oh dear," she said. "Oh god. Something has definitely happened. You're pregnant, is that it? That's definitely it, he got you pregnant. That's EXACTLY what Nadine said would happen. When are you coming? Come right away!"

"Like... on the first train. I am not pregnant. We dated, like, for a week”. 

"The first train is long gone! Take the next one now and send me your live location. OK? Send me your live location. Anya, OKAY!? Anya, I will not get off the phone until I see your live location".

"OK", you said, and then you dropped off and took a dive in the bathtub. 

You let the water envelop you, its hot embrace a very welcome respite from reality. So what’s next what’s next what’s next 

No idea. Maybe you stayed under for a minute, maybe more. 

By the time you emerged, gasping for air and shaking off droplets of water from your skin, your phone had buzzed twice with missed calls from Raul.

You picked up your phone and texted:

I am sorry all good just need some time to figure out stuff and take care of myself. <3 love you baby please don’t be mad

His response was immediate and curt:

Pick up your damn phone.

The full stop at the end was like an executioner's axe.

I'll call you tomorrow soooo tired okay :-)

Answer your phone now.

Jens saw them leaving. Don't think I don't know who they are.

Panic surged through you like a tidal wave. You could feel his fury seeping through each word. You stumbled from the tub, feet nearly slipping on slick tiles.

I'm on my way over.

You owe me an explanation.

The thought of facing him made bile rise in your throat; Raphael’s magic would probably not work against Raphael’s real life avatar himself.

It better be convincing, Anya, I mean it.

Shitshitshitshitshit

Shit what happened to I forgive you everything if you fuck me nasty?

Then you realised that you were just as afraid of Raul as you were of Raphael. For what it's worth, the former might be worse.

He was human after all, and no one could outdo humans when it came to being monsters.

Who the hell knows what's in that guy's head now? 

What if he kills you? 

You grabbed the clothes that were closest to you.

What if he rapes you?

Your shirt.

Will Raphael intervene? 

Jeans.

Or take over? 

Socks.

Or just watch? 

Mismatched; screw it, mismatched then.

Will he make you like it?

Jens must be standing right outside the apartment complex. Probably on his way here to the apartment already. Probably armed.

You'd probably like it. 

Not the front door, no. Go up one floor. Wait for Jens to pass.

Yeah, you know what, you'd definitely like it. You’ll love it. 

He passed. Was it Jens? Yeah, it was him. The wings rustle. No, do not go to the main exit on the ground floor.

You'll probably beg for more.

The garage door.

You should never have called him Daddy, you should have put your foot right back there.

The underground car park exit.

How can you feel so powerful and so powerless at the same time?

Get lucky for once.

How can your life be dictated so much by a fictional devil? How did all of this happen? Some damn escapism you did there, Anya. Escaped reality and common sense and any hope for a normal life for good measure. 

You got lucky; you made it out of the apartment complex. Jens' armored jeep was parked nearby, another cambion guard was smoking next to it. You quickly pulled the hoodie all over your face and walked to the closest subway station.

The sky was ablaze with the first light of dawn.

[mikuni14]

Jack & Joker - Ep 7

This episode was extremely hard for me to watch, because it's like someone took the tropes I hate the most and decided to put them here one by one. Lack of communication, misunderstanding, saying something horrible about a loved one when don't mean it and they hear it, a love triangle, a love triangle with a girl in a BL series, noble sacrifice, noble, stupid and unnecessary sacrifice, being mean for a "noble" purpose to protect a loved one by rejecting them, heartbreaking fights, jealousy, the pain of rejection, suffering alone. I hate every single one of these things and a series that I like so, so much decided to throw them all into one episode, at once. So it's easy to imagine that I'm not having a good time 💀

So many bad things happened in this episode that I started crying at the end, it was just too much. What really depressed me was that many of these things were unnecessarily bad, and there was a kind of malice in them that was hard to watch on screen.

I had some understanding (not excuse - understanding) for Save in the last episode, but then I didn't know all the facts. Now I have only contempt for him, because he is simply stupid and cruel in what he does. Save didn't even arrange something specific for Hope, or even for himself, which is exceptionally stupid, since he literally sold his soul to the devil - as it turns out, for nothing. On top of that, he didn't have to include Joke in his schemes, my jaw just dropped when after everything he did to Jack and his grandma, he himself, without being asked, says to Boss that there is one more dude who can mess with your plans, like bitch fr? Save dangerously plays god, messing with people's lives (in grandma's case - her LITERAL life) and for whom, for his boyfriend who works for the mafia and openly says that he actually likes doing it and unlike Jack - is a real loan shark who beats people (his behavior radicalized Tattoo). Hope was beaten, which is a risk of the profession he does, he wasn't beaten up randomly on the street for money, or bullied at a regular job., ffs! But what Save will never earn my forgiveness for is that for the sake of unclear privileges for his boyfriend 1) he could've killed an innocent person 2) he destroys the lives - and I want to emphasize this - LITERALLY DESTROYS THE LIVES of 3 innocent people. And not that I like Rose, but it also affects her life. Thus, grandma, Jack, Joke and Rose are just pawns, a colateral damage in his plans, for his own personal gain.

SAVE IS LIKE TEE FROM DFF. Sorry, but just as I had no sympathy for those guys, I have no sympathy for Save. He doesn't have to do this, he doesn't have to do such cruel and plainly evil things, he doesn't have to be so zealous, such an "employee of the month doing 200% of the norm" lol. It's very interesting that Save, instead of persuading Hope to leave this job and even run away, since he's oh so worried about him, directs his efforts to protect him, by harming others - others who are in the same or worse situation as he is.

..........

This whole marriage plot is so silly and soap opera and that's how I decided to treat it, so that I could still like this show 😅. Gods, it's just so stupid and when Jack initially didn't agree, I was so happy that finally, a voice of reason, and yet.. I don't know how Boss and Jack imagine doing this? I mean technically and.. just… generally???? How Jack plans to marry a woman he doesn't care about (with potential sex? children????) and at the same time follow Boss's orders, while being, you know, himself??? Not to mention that there is a whole ass person in this puzzle: Rose? And I'm not even mentioning Grandma, who is not stupid - how will she feel knowing that Jack literally sold himself for her health? From Jack's words in this episode, I gather that he is more or less aware of Joke's feelings. And I'm a little upset about the fact that Jack hurts him so much, knowing this. And his "noble motives" do not excuse him, because Jack leaves scorched earth behind him, destroys people around him and HIMSELF. And it will get even worse, because there will be no way out of this situation, in which he is digging himself deeper and deeper, which is what Joke was trying to tell him. Jack does something I particularly hate: he "sacrifices himself nobly" but he is really selfish in this sacrifice, because he doesn't ask if anyone actually wants his sacrifice it's The Sign all over again, fuck. And the fact that he does all this alone, officially, to protect his loved ones, shows that he really doesn't trust those close to him, that they can either help him, or that they could decide for themselves. And although I don't like Rose, Jack is ready to marry her without love, for his benefits, which is... suddenly not so noble, right Jack?

I know that all this is the law of slightly exaggerated TV romances, because if Jack had trusted Joke and his grandma and talked to them, maybe together they would have figured out another way to get money for her treatment, but then again, there wouldn't have been all this drama 🙄

But Jack didn't even try.

And he's really getting to the point where even if he wanted to stop, he wouldn't be able to, and even if he somehow managed to, there would be nothing to save, because everyone would be too hurt by him to forgive him. And he's so blinded by fear and the belief that he's doing the right thing that he doesn't even see it.

The approach of Save, Jack and Joke to situations when they feel they have no choice is very interesting. Save sacrifices others without hesitation, Jack sacrifices himself (consciously) and others (unconsciously), Joke sacrifices himself. Joke is truly selfless in all of this, because he is able to humiliate himself in front of his father for someone he cares about, work for pennies, but legally, as Jack wants, when things are very bad, he still feels duty towards the grandma - a person, who was kind to him. Whatever he does, he's alone in it, he doesn't involve others, any harm falls only on him. Apart from that, he blames himself for everything...

...........

Despite everything that the series has shown in tis ep, and which I actively hate, I cannot but praise the series for a few things:

the actors gave it their all in this episode, especially in the micro-expressions on the faces of Jack, Joke and Save, when you can see that they are trying to hide what they are going through

as always, I have to praise the incredibly accurate socio-political-economic background of the series. That there is always a bigger shark in the pool, the total detachment from reality of the rich and that they do NOT WANT to know this reality and that they don't really care. How easily the poor fall into a spiral of debt, a system of dependency, passivity caused by constantly hitting a wall and helplessness in the face of constant adversity (how Jack did not even consider other methods of obtaining money, but went straight to Boss)

that in reality it's so easy to manipulate the poor, who ultimately harm themselves and each other, which is exploited by the elites. The elites know that it's enough to set people against each other and they will jump at each other's throats, doing all the dirty work for them, while they feast on exquisite dishes in beautiful interiors, in expensive clothes. Tattoo, Save, even Jack, do what is expected of them on their own, and their actions negatively affect… themselves and people like them. This is a very brutal and gloomy conclusion to this series, unfortunately also very realistic. Because the rich, the elites know that a divided, depressed society that lives in fear is easier to manipulata and control. Becasue if Jack, Joke, Tattoo, Hoy, Save and Hope joined forces, they would probably be able to oppose Boss, to come up with something for themselves. And so from the beginning we see how their various selfish actions throw themselves and others like them under the bus. Because really, as sad and awful as it may sound, neither Boss nor even Rose could have done anything if not for the significant "help" from Tattoo and Save

the unexpected, but weirdly compelling het ship 😆

Finally, the most beautiful scene. I really appreciate the choice of shots in this scene, especially when only the hands are framed and the focus is on them, without showing the face… 💖

Why can't they be like this all the time 🥺

[godhasatenderheart]

how do you know for sure you won't end up in hell?

Hello! I saw your other message assuring me not to worry about responding because of the grieving process. Thank you for your kindness and thoughtfulness—it truly means a lot. May God bless your sweet soul. 🩷

It’s comforting to know that, because of God’s promises in the Bible, there’s assurance that we won’t end up in Hell. Many verses speak of salvation and bring peace. Sometimes, due to severe trauma, trusting in that love and safety can be difficult, but it’s a journey to trust in what God has promised.

When doubt about salvation or God’s promises arises, the best remedy is prayer and spending time in the Word. Trusting God fully and consistently is one of the hardest parts of the Christian walk, and it’s a lifelong journey. If doubt about salvation occurs, please know that it’s a normal part of the walk and can be overcome.

This world is filled with evil, and Satan continuously works to shake that faith. We face attacks, criticism, and feelings of shame and unworthiness. Yet, the Bible reveals God’s character, and when we trust in what He has said, there is assurance of salvation.

I’ll share some Scripture that speaks to our salvation under the cut, so as not to flood anyone’s timeline. I hope this can be helpful, beloved!

Then he brought them out and said, “Sirs, what must I do to be saved?” And they said, “Believe in the Lord Jesus, and you will be saved, you and your household.”

—Acts 16:30-31 (ESV)

More Scripture of salvation assurance below:

I write these things to you who believe in the name of the Son of God, that you may know that you have eternal life.

—1 John 5:13 (ESV)

because, if you confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved. For with the heart one believes and is justified, and with the mouth one confesses and is saved.

—Romans 10:9-10 (ESV)

For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast.

—Ephesians 2:8-9 (ESV)

For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life.

—John 3:16 (ESV)

For I know that my Redeemer lives, and at the last he will stand upon the earth. And after my skin has been thus destroyed, yet in my flesh I shall see God, whom I shall see for myself, and my eyes shall behold, and not another. My heart faints within me!

—Job 19:25-27 (ESV)

If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.

—1 John 1:9 (ESV)

Whoever conceals his transgressions will not prosper, but he who confesses and forsakes them will obtain mercy.

—Proverbs 28:13 (ESV)

Truly, truly, I say to you, whoever hears my word and believes him who sent me has eternal life. He does not come into judgment, but has passed from death to life.

—John 5:24 (ESV)

My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me. I give them eternal life, and they will never perish, and no one will snatch them out of my hand.

—John 10:27-28 (ESV)

Since, therefore, we have now been justified by his blood, much more shall we be saved by him from the wrath of God. For if while we were enemies we were reconciled to God by the death of his Son, much more, now that we are reconciled, shall we be saved by his life.

—Romans 5:9-10 (ESV)

The Spirit himself bears witness with our spirit that we are children of God, and if children, then heirs—heirs of God and fellow heirs with Christ, provided we suffer with him in order that we may also be glorified with him.

—Romans 8:16-17 (ESV)

And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose. For those whom he foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to the image of his Son, in order that he might be the firstborn among many brothers. And those whom he predestined he also called, and those whom he called he also justified, and those whom he justified he also glorified.

—Romans 8:28-30 (ESV)

For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.

—2 Corinthians 5:21 (ESV)

In him you also, when you heard the word of truth, the gospel of your salvation, and believed in him, were sealed with the promised Holy Spirit, who is the guarantee of our inheritance until we acquire possession of it, to the praise of his glory.

—Ephesians 1:13-14 (ESV)

And I am sure of this, that he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ.

—Philippians 1:6 (ESV)

which is why I suffer as I do. But I am not ashamed, for I know whom I have believed, and I am convinced that he is able to guard until that day what has been entrusted to me.

—2 Timothy 1:12 (ESV)

But when the goodness and loving kindness of God our Savior appeared, he saved us, not because of works done by us in righteousness, but according to his own mercy, by the washing of regeneration and renewal of the Holy Spirit, whom he poured out on us richly through Jesus Christ our Savior, so that being justified by his grace we might become heirs according to the hope of eternal life.

—Titus 3:4-7 (ESV)

Consequently, he is able to save to the uttermost those who draw near to God through him, since he always lives to make intercession for them.

—Hebrews 7:25 (ESV)

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! According to his great mercy, he has caused us to be born again to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, to an inheritance that is imperishable, undefiled, and unfading, kept in heaven for you, who by God’s power are being guarded through faith for a salvation ready to be revealed in the last time.

—1 Peter 1:3-5 (ESV)

See what kind of love the Father has given to us, that we should be called children of God; and so we are. The reason why the world does not know us is that it did not know him. Beloved, we are God’s children now, and what we will be has not yet appeared; but we know that when he appears we shall be like him, because we shall see him as he is. And everyone who thus hopes in him purifies himself as he is pure.

—1 John 3:1-3 (ESV)