#i am alone. always and forever i will never know closeness or intimacy

[ningningkittie]

i cant stop thinking abt him... have been doing that all daynd i feel so sad nd my heart hurtsso bad nd i long for him sm it's just a bad day :((

[thedeviltohisangel]

All The Things I Did (11): Love Me To My Bones

a/n: i promise one day john will sing blue skies. we are slowly but surely working our way towards that beautiful occasion. there is a lot of yearning and can you tell i am reading romance novels again moments in here but i will gladly rot my teeth and hope you all will. let me know how much or little you'd like to see of cass/harding with the brits. i am here to meet your needs, always. love you guys like you hang the stars !

Once her and John had regained control of their breathing and Cass control of her legs, they���d giggled like school children while cleaning up her office. This intimacy was a warmly welcomed change for them both. An escalation of the love he had already expressed to her and the commitment she had echoed back in kind. It felt validating that after baring her soul the night before he had still wanted her. That her acquiescence to the Colonel’s offer hadn’t swayed his desires. Over and over again she been met with the overwhelming feeling of being loved by John Egan. And everytime it felt amplified. Solidified. Sanctified. As if every time was building off the last resulting in a compounding level of love that left her dizzy.

John Egan was all encompassing. And she wanted him forever. Just the way he was.

“You’re really going to make me wait hours to see you again?” he whispered as they gently swayed in each other’s arms. “Can’t you come make Red look like an idiot for a little bit?”

“While the idea of upstaging him is incredibly appealing, I have to coordinate something with Mary for tonight.” She kissed him gently. “You’ll come by to zip me up?”

“Only because you promised I could unzip you after.”

“Three times in one day, Major. Make sure you eat some protein and drink some water. I’m not a fan of my lovers losing their stamina on me.” She kissed him once again and headed for the doors.

“How many lovers you got, Spook?” She thought about answering. Telling him that he was only the second man she had ever been with. If the first even counted as a man. But then would he feel inclined to give a number back? From all the whispers she had heard, she didn’t want to know what that number was.

“Not nearly as many as you, John. You don’t have to worry.” Cass tried to keep her tone teasing, tried to open the door and step back into the fray but his palm pushed the door shut before she opened it any more than an inch.��

“What does that mean?” He closed the distance between them and turned her around so they were chest to chest. “Cass, please tell me you don’t think about my past like that.” Like it was something for her to compare herself to. Like she was just another name on his list.

“I’ve only been intimate with one other person.” Her answer stayed like that. No true answer to what John had just asked. 

“And even if you’d been with none or a hundred, it wouldn’t change that I love you. That the connection we have is very important to me. Special, even.” Cass nodded.

“I know. But people talk, John. People talk about the you before you met me.” Bucky. The man who danced with all the pretty girls and kissed them before he left. Had gone even further outside in the grass once apparently. A version of him she’d seen glimpses of but not the full picture. Did he regret starting this thing with her? Regret putting that piece of him to rest?

“There is no me before you. Not anymore. Yes. I’ve had more than my fair share of…intimate moments with other women. But the version of me standing in front of you, Cassandra Ann, is not that man. The man in front of you loves you. Didn’t know what the word meant before you let alone the feeling.” He reached down and grabbed her hands and brought each finger to his lips individually. “I’m tethered to you, Cass. In a way I hope to one day be able to explain to you. But I never want you thinking, not for one second, that my life didn’t start that day on the air strip. When I saw you and fell in love with you and knew I was going to be yours forever before I even knew your name.” She pecked him quickly.

“I wasn’t expecting all that when I mentioned it, Johnny. Consider any doubt soothed.” Her hands rested on the side of his neck as his fingers locked around the small of her back. "You don’t ever need to try and articulate that feeling to me. I’ve got the key to translating it right here.” She placed his hand over her heart. John traced the tip of his finger up and down the front of her throat. 

“My puzzle piece,” he murmured. Cass smiled and rubbed her nose against his lovingly. 

“When we go out there, please remember you’ve taken my underwear. Shield me from the vultures,” she teased knowing her pencil skirt was plenty long enough to cover the scandalous bits. 

“How are they ever going to recover from seeing your bare, stocking-less legs?”

“That is also entirely your fault,” she mentioned with a furrowed brow. “Maybe I should ruin some of your clothing and have you prance around the secretaries' bullpen.”

“Mary would protect me. I’m certain.” 

“I’ll ask. And then pick my course of action accordingly.” John hummed in amusement and placed his palms on her cheeks. 

“As long as that course ends up right here,” he kissed her dramatically for effect,”then you pick away, baby.” Those three words were screaming in her chest. Crawling their way up her throat and trying to poke her lips out of the way. If she opened her mouth right now, she would say it. I love you. I love you, John. I’m in love with every last godforsaken inch of you and I want to love you like this until the day I die. Please don’t ever leave me. I won’t be able to continue on. Instead she smiled and stood on her tiptoes for another kiss. Her feelings tucked back into the corner of her heart that was reserved for John anyways. Underneath any other secret she may be keeping from him.

----

“Ma’am I am so incredibly sorry! I had no idea that he sent Eloise here for-” Cass held a hand out to steady Mary as she returned to her building, her secretary frantically trying to apologize for the ordeal with Harding that was now set to take place.

“Breathe, Mary, breathe. I am not upset with you. I know you would never participate in such a farce willingly. Eloise is not to blame either.” She pulled Mary into a hug. “I told the lovely Colonel that I don’t want him using you in his schemes ever again.” Mary smiled. Only Lieutenant Cooper had the guts to go toe to toe with a Colonel. Only she could come out of the fight victorious. Having someone like her in her corner, Mary was thankful every day.

“And what was the ultimate aim of his scheme this time?”

“He invited me to dinner with the Brits tonight. Said he used the information from Eloise to have a dress custom made for me to wear.” Mary disappeared behind her desk and lifted a box onto the top. It was large and wrapped with pink paper complete with a bow. 

“Left a note and everything,” Mary mused. Half of her had wanted to show it to Major Egan. Send him on the warpath towards Colonel Harding and see what fun that might stir up. But her more sensible half had won out and saved it for Lieutenant Cooper.

“Did you read it?” Mary nodded. “Do I want to read it?” She ripped it as an answer. “Perfect. Let’s go unpack this.” Cass set the offensive box on her bed and pulled the ribbon loose before ripping the paper and lifting the lid. It was a shade of lilac. Sleeves that would hit the middle of her upper arm and poofed slightly at the seam. A neckline that would show just enough of her collarbone to be considered tantalizing but not scandalous. She hated that she already knew it was going to look lovely on her. 

“Does Major Egan plan on stopping by?” Mary asked softly. Her own mind was whirring with the possible emotions the man was going to exhibit. 

“He does,” Cass whispered back, her eyes unable to look away from the dress. “I promised him he could see me before Harding. See me immediately after.”

“I see.” They were both studying the dress with an assessing gaze. Wondering that problems it may present for their future selves. 

“Maybe I’ll start by taking a shower. See if that can’t clear my head and offer me a better idea on what to do.” 

“Do you have any specific requirements for tonight? I could get started on your questioning plan,” Mary offered as she searched Cass’ closet for an empty wire hanger for the dress. 

“I haven’t quite decided yet which attendee will be my target,” she muttered back. “Maybe we brush up our targeting package on the British Colonel and go from there. I know enough about Harding that I can pin him without any research.”

“It’ll be ready when you are, ma’am,” Mary promised. She gathered the packaging from the dress in her arms and was back to her desk to get to work. 

Cass felt absolutely ridiculous as scrubbed at her hair and shaved her legs and used her sweet smelling soap all over her body. It was the same routine she would follow for any mission of this nature. A mission where she was expected to use her lilting laugh and eyelashes and every inch of forbidden skin to get what she wanted. It was on these nights she felt like an arrow being knocked by a hunter. Pointed in the direction that suited them best. Arced into the sky with a hope that it would hit its target and exact the killing blow. All with the hopes the victim never saw it coming. Never heard the truth behind her aim. Never felt the tip lodge between their ribs until she had already left.

As she ran the hairdryer over her head, she did her best to find that look in the mirror. The mask she always wore when she was tasked with an objective. The one she had worn in Berlin but shrugged as quickly as she could. She hadn’t really removed it since Berlin. Just for those moments between her and John in her room or in her office. Otherwise she had made sure it was firmly in place. Lest she break down again for all to see. The humiliation had been gut wrenching. And then there was her letter to her superiors. Asking if she could speak to the Foster family. Offer them closure from the last person to see their son alive. Their answer was quick. Someone called Mary from a secure line to tell her to tell Cass no. She had used the word ‘coward’ more than once in her rant to the secretary. 

The soft knock on the door was from the woman in question. “Lieutenant Cooper?” Cass clicked off the tool and looked at her with a steadying breath. “Major Egan is rather impatiently waiting for you in the foyer.”

“Alright. I’ll be out to ensconce him away in just a moment,” she promised. Mary offered her a soft smile before she was closing the door and steeling herself to deal with the handsome annoyance in the front of the building. She could hear the grumbling and the groaning coming from him as she carefully rolled her curlers into her hair. Did her best to focus as she heard footsteps approaching the door. Footsteps that were way too heavy to belong to Mary’s kitten heels. 

“Is everyone decent?” he called through the door. 

“I’m alone. You couldn’t just wait five minutes?” she asked with an exasperated tone as the door swung open and he appeared. 

“Nope.” The word popped out of his mouth with a distinct clarity and amused look. “Not when you’re the only thing that could calm my thoughts.” There was something dark and hollow inside of him whenever he thought about her spooky work. John would never be able to forget the way she looked in the sick bay after Berlin. The way she had crumpled into her arms and wept over the loss of her friend. He didn’t understand how Harding could ask her to suit back up so quickly but then again he had experienced the same relentless pace. Prepare, attack, debrief, prepare, attack, debrief and on and on until it became the only three things you knew how to do. 

“Calm your thoughts? What is causing them to race?” She set the curler onto the counter to offer him her full attention. 

“It’s only been a day, Cass.” Oh. So that is what this was about. 

“You don’t think I’m ready to get back into the real world? You didn’t seem to think I was fragile this morning when you fucked me on my desk.” It had always been an asset of hers that she was able to shut down her emotions and move on. Lock away that human part of her and just keep going forwards. Yesterday or the day before or any other day might as well be a different lifetime. Moving on was the only way for her to carry on. 

“I did not use that word,” he hedged as she started shoving things into a makeup bag angrily. “Just wanted you to know it’s okay to take some time. Okay to let the wound take time to heal.”

“There is no wound, John. The same way you get called to go back up there regardless of who was lost and what you saw the last time. The same way you answer the call and climb into the plane without even thinking about it. This is exactly the same thing.” It was then she noticed the flowers in his hands. Not the wildflowers like he normally brought her. They looked like they came from a proper florist. “What are those?” she whispered.

“I thought a lady such as yourself could recognize lilies when she saw them.” The longer he had thought about Cass going to this dinner with Harding, waltzing in on the arm of a Colonel in a dress he had tailor made for her, and then his mind had turned completely dark. The image of her family business in South Carolina and the banker she had been expected to marry. The debutante balls and afternoon tea socials. A world he was wholly inadequate to be a part of. He needed to try harder. For her. For the future he wanted for them. Be the man worthy of expressing her love to. 

“What happened to the wild flowers?” Cass appreciated the gesture. Could only imagine how hard these had been to find in the local town. But the wildflowers were special. Represented the land that brought them together. The spirit of freedom that she felt whenever she was around him. 

“I thought these were a bit nicer. For the occasion.” 

“Thank you.” She took them and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “But the wildflowers…they make me feel like I get to keep a piece of my wild, Wisconsin man in my room or office while you’re away.”

“You deserve-”

“I am not even deserving of you, John.” Not after everything she had done. 

“I love you. You deserve the world. And I’m going to give it to you.” Even if it was bit by bit and piece by piece and took him a lifetime to deliver to her. He would spend his days offering these shards of life to her on bended knee. Only then would he feel deserving of the woman in front of him. 

“That sounds like it might take awhile, Major. Sure you want to be stuck with me that long?” He kissed her lips gently. 

“It’s all I could ever want.”

----

True to his request and her promise, it was John’s fingers that brushed the skin of her back, the zipper closing impeccably at the top.

“How’s it look?” Cass’ question was directed at Mary. John looked too stunned to speak. A mix of anger and worship swirling across his face.

“You look beautiful, ma’am,” she answered honestly. “I’ll go keep an eye out for the Colonel.” It translated to her offering them a moment alone before Cass was on her way.

“Well? Do you agree? Am I beautiful?” she asked with a teasing spin. The skirt flared in a perfect circle before resting back above her knee. 

His fingertips skirted over hers before tracing up her forearms and settling around her elbows. He used them to pull her flush against his chest where his nose took on the duty of urging goosebumps across her skin. “You just want me to look like a fool. Trying to find words to capture just how…splendid you look right now.”

“Splendid?” Her eyebrows rose as she locked her fingers behind his neck. “

“I asked Gale to help me think of some new words.” With a grin that could only be described as childlike, he pulled a piece of worn paper from his breast pocket. “Splendid, magnificent, spectacular…” His voice carried off as she giggled. 

“I’m surprised he didn’t just laugh at you.” In truth, John had been hunched over a piece of paper trying to write a poem for Cass. To say it was going horribly would be an understatement. Part of Gale had been screaming to tell John he didn’t need to resort to such trivial things to prove he was worthy of her. To keep her from running off with Colonel Harding. That everybody within a hundred mile radius knew exactly who each of them belonged to. No questions asked. But the other part of him had thought the show of devotion was worthy of being nurtured. Knew John hadn’t felt this way, not even close, ever before. Probably never would again. Knew that Cass had been the greatest influence on his friend even in their short time of knowing each other. Helping the budding romantic couldn’t hurt. 

“I think he’s rooting for us,” he whispered in her ear like it was the greatest secret of mankind. 

“I think Mary is too,” she whispered against his cheek before pressing her lips to the skin there. 

“Guess we better not fuck it up.” A grin spread across her face that he matched as she kissed at the corner of his lips, his mustache tickling her lovingly. “I’m sorry for ever questioning you.”

“I’m sorry for thinking it meant you doubted me.” 

“I just want you to be safe and taken care of. Make sure you know someone is looking out for you.” Love was screaming in her chest at his admission. Wasn’t this exactly what love was? Putting another’s well being before your own? 

“Thank you.” She chose the simple words to offer him. Relished in the way his eyes fluttered close as their foreheads rested against each other. 

“I don’t want to let you go.” He wanted her all to himself. Wanted this version of her, this prim and proper version, to be for him and him alone. Reclaim that piece of her Landry had taken away. Hold her while she learned to love it all over again. 

“One day, you won’t have to. I promise.” She couldn’t promise that one day would come soon That they would survive the end of the war and live their happily ever after. But she could promise him that when it did, she would be there with open arms and a full heart ready to love him until the light in her eyes was extinguished.

“Ma’am, Colonel Harding is here for you.” Mary had held him off as long as she could.

“A kiss for good luck?” Cass requested with her toes tipped and lips puckered.

"You don’t need luck,” he kissed her anyway. “How about another one outside for the good Colonel to witness?”

“Don’t go riling anybody up,” she cautioned as she took his arm and he began to escort her out to the waiting Jeep. “As much as it annoys us, I still have to spend the entire night with the man.” John shortened his strides to keep pace with her, going so far as to carry her purse and gloves on the arm she wasn’t gripping. A younger version of him might have guffawed over the image of the pilot carrying a patent leather handbag and white silk gloves. But he supposes the younger version of him would not have been able to look away from the woman on his arm long enough to notice. He was proud of the man he was today. Right there in that moment. Achieved his dreams of becoming a pilot and serving his country and leading men towards an aim that was worthy of it. Found a girl so special she was worth risking everything for. Worth loving so fully that he wanted to scream it out the window of his B-17 so the wind could carry the news to every corner of the world. He hoped his father was looking down, just as proud. Hoped his sisters wouldn’t try too hard to scare her off when they met her. Hoped his mother would love her as much as he did. 

“Lieutenant, you look beautiful this evening.” He had thought about calling her Cassandra, kissing the top of her hand in a sweeping bow but decided against it because of the way the younger Major was looking at her. The look of a man who would know no boundary in defending her. 

“Thank you, Sir. The dress is lovely.” Cass smiled genuinely and took her accessories from John when he offered them. “This is where we say goodbye,” she whispered. He dropped a kiss to the top of her nose and pulled her closer by the small of her back.

“I love you,” he said like a promise, “knock them fucking dead, Spook.”

“I’ll find you as soon as I get back.” She kissed him once more before untangling herself from his hold, his hand wrapping around hers and not letting go until the distance made it impossible for him to hold on any longer. He watched her go with a bittersweet smile. Happy she could have a night of luxury, whatever version of it this place could offer, and a pang of disappointment he wasn’t the one delivering it to her. 

Cass settled into the passenger seat of the Jeep and waved softly to John as Harding started the car and they were off. Tearing her gaze away from his slowly disappearing silhouette took all her effort but she managed after a few moments.

“Love? Quite the declaration in a time like this.”

“He means it too,” she muttered back as she focused on the scenery passing by them.

“You didn’t say it back.” Cass scowled at him and hoped the cold in her gaze would slice right through his offensive comment and draw blood from his skin. 

“Mind your own business, Colonel.”

She managed to stay silent the rest of the drive to the restaurant where they were meeting his counterpart, her mask slipping over her face with ease. 

“Lieutenant-”

“Get in, get out. I won’t get in your way as long as you don’t get in mine.” If he wanted to, he could scold her for talking to a superior officer that way. But, God, did he love that fire in her eyes right now. “Does that work for you?” she asked. 

“Yes, ma’am.” He even tipped his cap. “Shall we?” He offered her his arm and she assessed it for just a moment before gingerly taking it. It didn’t feel like the final piece of a puzzle on a rainy day. The moment in a novel where your every question is answered. The sound of recognition when you see an old friend. 

It felt like a mission. A requirement. A gap she was being tasked to fill. The motions were easy for her. She thought it would be hard after Will but maybe getting back in the mix was exactly what she needed. 

She thought of John as she walked into the restaurant, thought of him as she always did. Thought for all his loveliness at seeing her in this dress, she didn’t want him to see that the person she would become while in it. What the name Spook truly meant. How she became the word without a second thought. This was a piece of her she would always choose to keep from him. 

Cass flicked her curls over her shoulder as the British officer approached, his eyes zeroing in on her bare shoulder with no desire to constrain his hunger at all.

Yes. She’d keep this hidden indeed.

[stellaluna33]

have you ever heard that song Bless the telephone by labi siffre? i was listening to it earlier and thought about jess and rory and their recurring thing with phone calls and how you mentioned they would never run out of things to talk abt on the phone after two weeks. and i think the act of the Phone Call in some way symbolizes the unique intimacy they have with each other that they can’t exactly find with anyone else. like with rory she tries to mimic her and jess’ phone calls (and relationship) w dean in s4 + gets tired of deans clingy 27 missed calls everyday in s2. and with logan. like you said. in s7 rory has to bring phone sex into the game because they… kinda got bored of talking to each other. and the only phone call jess and rory have in which they cant connect. is when she’s breaking up with him and cant even be 100% sure it’s him because he can’t make himself say anything at all. being on the phone is their thinggg hi hey is their thinggg n no matter what it will always be ^_^

Ooh! You know, I MIGHT have heard that song before, because my husband was going through his discography a few months ago, but if so I didn't really pay close attention to the lyrics at the time! But YES! 🥺. This is something I've been mulling over a lot recently, between that post and seeing a gifset of all the Literati phonecalls, and I think you're absolutely right. And it makes perfect sense for them because there's a certain intimacy that comes with telephone conversations, where it's just the two of you, and everyone else is, by necessity, excluded. Only YOU can hear their voice (I'm ignoring the existence of speaker phone here, haha, and I can't imagine Rory and Jess using it? It's not private or intimate enough), they are connected to YOU ALONE. You're alone together, even when you're not. Yeah. 🥺

And, apart from that last tragic call (where Jess can't even speak! 😩), don't you kind of get the impression that they could go on talking forever? Like, even when Jess calls Rory from NY, the call is only short because Jess ran out of money- they were already spiraling off in new directions (David Lee Roth etc. haha) and I get the feeling they could have rabbit-trailed indefinitely if they had the time! Even when Jess called about seeing Rory's name with Dean on the poster, after the "business" was concluded, they kept talking and talking about other things! For both that scene and their first phone conversation, the SCENE ends before the call does, and you're left with the feeling that they're still there, in their own little world. Yeah. 🥺

And even though Season 7 is... to be taken with a grain of salt imo, haha, I keep thinking about what Amy said about Rory and Logan... That their relationship isn't built on "deep talkin'," haha. So what happens to a relationship like that when Talking is the only thing LEFT? I don't know, sexting, I GUESS. 😅 Because is physical intimacy the only kind of intimacy they had? I suppose it helps if you have a private jet and a helicopter, haha. BUT I DIGRESS! I am DEFINITELY biased, I freely admit! But... I just can't help my preference! I love lovers who connect soul-to-soul.

[gaslightgallows]

The Inevitable ‘Good Omens 2 is Eating My Brain’ Prompt List

It's been a hot second since I did one of these things but I am again Unwell over this show and need to write out my feelings. My ask box is open: send me a prompt (or prompts) from the list below and a character/pairing from the show and I’ll do my damnedest/blessedness to write you a scrumptious little fic.

I need something bigger than the sky.

If you don't find me, you'll find the things. You'll touch what my hand touches.

As long as you stay here, you can always think: One day I will go home.

I feel myself coming unstitched from the world. I can’t seem to make myself adjust.

And what do all great words come to in the end, but that? I love you - I am at rest with you - I have come home.

Neither of them chased the other and yet each was surrounded by the other.

There is something big coming. Bigger than love, bigger than aloneness.

You have been ruined from the moment you met, and you will be ruined long after you part.

I am selfish, I am broken, I am cruel.

Evenings, mornings, afternoons, I have measured out my life with coffee spoons.

No matter how much you think you love somebody, you'll step back when the pool of their blood edges up too close.

Heaven will still have murder out at last.

The world went on, even as it fell apart.

Yes, I am alone. Except for the devils in my brain.

As if a tenderness awoke, a tenderness that did not tire. Something healing.

You've saved my life so often, I don't deserve thanks.

Your worst sin is that you have destroyed and betrayed yourself for nothing.

I forgive the world because it has you.

In the church of my heart the choir’s in flames.

Gaze upon this wretched thing and know that it is love.

I understand. That’s the trouble. I understand.

You wrap your name tight around my ribs and keep me warm.

I keep asking what am I. Lord knows I still don't know.

But what are you trying to be free of? The living? The miraculous task of it?

Love as a punishment, love as a death sentence. Love as god.

I was very young when I was cracked open.

And yet I swear I love this earth that scars and scalds, that burns my feet. And even hell is holy.

I drink to the fact that God did not save us.

Hold me closer now and I'll forget about the life I saw for us written in your eyes. 

There are scars that can't be seen. I want them touched, but there are more scars than hands willing.

Take me with you. I want a doomed love.

You are someone I have loved but never known.

I slept and woke up inside out, on the other side of the nightmare, where the nightmare is unmovable, unyielding reality.

Only others save us, even though solitude tastes like opium.

They slipped briskly into an intimacy from which they never recovered.

The stars seem to live forever but they’re mortal too.

I think of you often. I think of you often, and I remember.

In the divine order of ideal things, it is written that eternal love is to be given to what is eternally unworthy.

I shine only with the light you gave me.

Say my name, taste the parts of me that belong to you.

Anons are on and the ask box will stay open until I get bored/overwhelmed/distracted by something else.

[fayeandknight]

I am writing this while crying on the floor so that's your warning for this post.

I just received a text message from my old/previous/former???? best friend asking about sending me an invitation to his wedding in the beginning of next month.

I just... I have no idea how to process this let alone respond.

For context we became friends in highschool and bonded over being queer and mental health struggles. Our friendship prevailed through college and shitty relationships that we supported each other through. I spent a lot of time at his house and became close with his family as well. We remained close post college and I was a bridesmaid in his sister's wedding.

All of that to highlight that we were very close.

About 5 years ago he started dating an incrediblely toxic person. Given my own past and experiences I clocked said partner as radioactive and tried to express my concerns gently. Those concerns were rebuffed. It came to a head during his sister's wedding weekend where I watched toxic ooze gaslight friend and called it out.

This resulted in a verbally abusive falling out with friend and me being chewed out by his family who basically said they agreed the partner was shitty but it wasn't my place to say so and thus I was in the wrong.

A few years later sister reached out to me to say she felt bad about the way things fell apart and wanted to reconnect. We've hung out a few times and but never regained the previous closeness.

About six months ago friend called me to apologize for things, admit I was right, and tell me he is engaged to someone new. His journey led him to become estranged from his family for a time and he has been building the relationships back up. I have no ill will towards him and wish him the utmost happiness.

We've not spoken since.

So now I'm left in a huge quandary on how to proceed.

They don't know me as a service dog handler and given that, I'd want Forte to be further along than he currently is to feel comfortable asking for accomodations for him. Could he work the event without issue? Probably, but I'm only 75% sure and that's not good enough for me given the short timeline.

Lots of couple intimacies are hard for me. Parties are hard for me. Seeing a bunch of people I used to consider safe and then very much weren't will be hard for me.

If I don't go, I'm afraid that will be the final end of the friendship. Despite the extreme ups and downs, it would hurt me to have the door closed on this friendship forever. I've always held out hope that we could reconcile given how much time we spent together in the trenches of life.

If I do go, I'm going solo into a difficult at best situation. There's no one I feel safe enough to cling to and certainly no one I feel safe enough to rely on to advocate for me if I get overwhelmed. I hate being vulnerable. More so when I know people are more likely to see me as dramatic trouble maker than a person who is genuinely struggling with their disability.

Part of me wishes there was a secret third option where I go with someone willing to play service human. Someone who would help me step away to ground myself when needed and would let me know when it's time for me to leave. Unfortunately I don't have anyone in my life I would feel comfortable asking for that sort of thing.

I feel like there's no good choice to make.

All of it hurts and I'm angry with myself because if Forte was trained enough it would solve the bulk of my problems. But he isn't and that's entirely on me.

So yeah, I'm crying on the floor because I feel like there's no good way forward on this.

[ikemenomegas]

Not until then. And even though you understood it, for a long, long time it had still hurt. Because no one had ever stepped up to do the same for any of you

Screaminf and crying

There's this feeling of being abandoned by the system and being forever stuck in the cycle of getting killed for the sake of other people and never being able to have the certainty of having a painless death because you're not allowed to be selfish and this is all happening to a bunch of teenagers who haven't seen much of the world yet. That part hits me especially hard since I've had similar thoughts like that in the past and there's this nagging thought at the back of your mind going "what about me?" And it just fucks u up a bit.

I also love the myy oc and shoko pairing more than gojo x myy oc or geto x myy oc because the two of them were always like the ppl left behind by the two strongest sorcerers, if that makes sense at all. Shoko and myy oc can understand each other more and that scene of them in bed was just perfect because there was an equal amount of playful bantering and intimacy in the scene so i loved it

Thaaaat's them. And I absolutely get it, that's why I wrote it this way. There's something about watching other people get... saved I guess, either by others or by themselves, or even seeing bad things happen and going "why did no one save me" or "why am i not strong enough to save myself" or "am i not strong enough to do something that matters". It's not a nice feeling so we don't like to acknowledge it, but i don't think it's uncommon. I'm proud of and grateful to you anon for saying you relate, I'm sorry you have felt that way, but know you aren't alone in it.

just writing my reply to you, I realize that maybe of all the people in the group, Nanami might also understand (if he and myy oc were close enough to have this kind of heart to heart). It's a very particular kind of bitter adult feeling, it's only Nanami acknowledges the good he does in the world. myy oc broke in a way where they think it doesn't matter/nothing they do will ever be good enough ^^' (sorry for the sad)

For Shoko and myy oc I think it sucks in particular too because... Gojo and Getou were their friends, but didn't try to save them. Actually, they were abandoned too. Getou and myy oc share the non-sorcerer background, but Shoko and myy oc share the reality of being important parts of the power structure of jujutsu society without actually having as much power as that position should allow them.

You are so right though and I hope you'll love the road trip au where they just run away. Shoko is best wife, we stan Shoko on this blog. If Shoko has a character flaw, we're starting to see she's too internal, and kind of passive/accepting/avoidant. She very very seldom says what she means or actually wants to say. She should have asked myy oc to marry her first, they would have both been less heartbroken lol (there's a fic for that too btw 😉 the new season is making me itch to finish the shoko content in my drafts)

[wolfiemcwolferson]

Hi, I have this really really really sad Piarles headcanon thing that can never be a fic, but it’s going zoomie in my brain and I have to go write BN so here’s a bunch of interconnected thoughts that form an AU in a trenchcoat.

Sol and River have seen this and have told me it’s too sad for human consumption, but here we are. Do not click if you don’t want to be sad because there’s no happy times here. Also CW for death and alcohol and passive suicidal ideation and just dark dark dark.

Pierre Gasly goes to his grave with the etchings of many lovers on his skin. Men and women alike had come and gone from his bed in the latter half of his life, but only one managed to get underneath. To write his name directly on his heart. Charles.     Charles carved his own name in Pierre’s heart the summer Pierre had been 23 and no amount of sex or tequila or fast cars could erase it nor could they bring him back.     Pierre Gasly goes to his grave with one name on his lips and even though he’ll never know it in this lifetime, when Charles hears about his death - months later while he’s in the middle of making his morning tea - he will get in his car and drive 10 hours to get back to that little park the two of them met in.     Because Pierre’s name is similarly carved into Charles’ heart. And no amount of success or money or friendship could ever erase it nor could it bring Pierre back to him.     What the fuck is a soulmate for, Charles shouts to the sky that night, driving back to his city and his life, if you don’t get them in this life? What was it for?

.

I have this scene in my head of them laying in Pierre’s shitty room in his shitty bed and Charles says “I love you” and pierre frowns and says “I think you love how I make you feel” and Charles says “isn’t it the same thing?” And pierre kisses him and says “I used to think so, but now I think love is making the other person better. And then when Charles leaves, pierre holds his chin and says “I love you” and Charles says “I know”

.

There’s a night where Pierre skips work (he’s a bartender but they won’t fire him because he’s been there forever) and he and charles drive like two hours to a lake because they don’t live close enough to the ocean and charles says he feels sad and pierre is like “water always makes me feel better” and they’re sitting right at the edge and charles says “do you ever wish it was you? Like what’s the point in living if this is how you feel all the time? What’s the point in pressing on when you’d rather walk into the water and not come out?” And pierre has him in between his legs, pressed to his chest and he sighs and says “it passes. That feeling.” And charles says “aren’t you supposed to ask me to stay alive for you or some shit” and pierre squeezes him again and says “I’m too busy trying to stay alive for me” and charles starts to cry and says “I wish it had been me” and pierre says nothing because there’s nothing he can say. He wishes it had been him too, but then he wouldn’t be holding charles so maybe he doesn’t wish that. He doesn’t know anymore. “Let’s go back” he says instead and then he and charles drive back at 3 am and charles whispers halfway back to Pierre’s “I would miss you though. If it had been me” and pierre slows down. Drives the speed limit.

.

Pierre let’s Charles stay at his place for a couple of days because Charles’ family is out of town and Charles has A Responsibility and Pierre doesn’t want him to stay alone because sometimes Charles is just a bit too dark and one night he gets home from work and Charles is up watching a movie on Pierre’s couch and it’s clear he’s been crying and so Pierre scoops him a bowl of ice cream and they don’t talk because there’s nothing to stay but it’s the intimacy of not being alone in your sadness that matters and eventually they go to bed and Charles whispers “thank you” and pierre kisses his forehead and then Pierre doesn’t sleep that night because he knows that he has to send Charles away because Pierre can’t fix him and he can’t help him get better and he just wants to look at him a little more.

.

Charles trails off in the middle of a sentence and Pierre stops what he’s doing to look at him and Charles is staring out the window and pierre touches his arm to get his attention. “Charles?” Charles turns towards him and says “it’s the first time I told that story and had to use the past tense.” And so Pierre asks him if he wants to go to the store and Charles says “it’s 4 AM. No stores are open” and pierre says “then we can go walk down to the park” and Charles nods and then pierre tells him a story while they walk and when he gets to the end of it he takes Charles hand and Charles says “I wish you would be mean to me. I wish you would tell me to get over it.” And Pierre asks “would that help?” And Charles shrugs and Pierre changes the subject again because sometimes he does want to yell but he won’t because it doesn’t help either of them.

.

Charles is laying with his head in Pierre's lap and Pierre is playing with his hair and Pierre has already told Charles that he has to go back to school and Charles asks "do you think you could call me? Like could you call me occasionally?" And Pierre's hand stills and says, "I told you the first night I met you that I would never lie to you" and Charles sits up and won't let Pierre touch him and then he finally says, "I wish you had never said that to me" and Pierre gets up and makes them some food instead of saying anything that he actually wants to say.

.

So, Charles goes away to school in the fall like he’s meant to and he gets his shit together and has A Whole Life, but he never stops thinking about Pierre.

He’s his soul mate after all.

.

Anyway. I’m very sorry to put this on you in the middle of the night. This is the equivalent of me turning a basket upside down and shaking out the dust so I can use it again properly.

[obsessivethought]

I love you as well, my sweetest rabbit. You’re the only one I should ever belong to. You are the only one that truly listens and knows me, that respects me. Out of all the people in the universe, I only see you as worthy of my love, attention, and praise. Everyone else can suffer without it.

You are the only one that continues to make me happy without causing me to feel like my happiness is a curse wrought upon the people around me. You make me feel like I am whole again.

You breathe life back into my veins when you smile at me. You warm my heart past the coldness that other’s cause me to feel. No sweeter words have ever been told to me unless it’s from your mouth. For all I’ve been told… at least what you tell me forever stays true. No one else deserves what I can give expect for you.

The only one that deserves your attention is me. The only one that deserves my attention is you. At least then we know that no one could get in the way of our perfect love! You know to respect me and I respect you.

No one will be able to tell us we aren’t communicating when they don’t listen because no one else will get close to you like I do! No one else loves you like I love you. You are mine.

Forget about the idiots that told you that before. You never even belonged to them! They didn’t want you! Not like I do! They don’t own you like I own you. You can’t leave. You don’t even want to anyways. Isn’t that right, darling? No one else can have you. They can try, but I am the one that adores you the most.

The rest of them? They can burn alive! They’re only good for fodder. You belong to me. No one else. They can die trying. Maybe then they’ll know the love of a blade once it slices into them. But they’ll never know how sweet it can be when your lover, your true love, is the one holding the hilt.

You are mine and mine alone. Everyone else offered empty promises of winning a prize. But you… you aren’t a prize. You are mine, you are my god. You’re the only one I need. I, your goddess, am the only one you need.

The rest are low-life’s, my dear. They don’t get to know you. You aren’t a toy. You are someone to cherish and adore. You aren’t something that needs to constantly be belittled with sexual acts, gods that’s idiotic! You deserve soft romance, soft love, wonderful presents, praise. If you want sexual intimacy… I am the only one that knows how to make you beg for more. No one else gets to lay their filthy hands on you.

You are mine and only mine. Don’t forget it. Anyone that tries can shove the hated blade into themselves. They will never be able to offer what I do. I will always be your drug. An addiction that will never stop. If you try… I don’t think you’d want to find out.

Please carve your name into my skin so that I may wear it proudly

[umbralsong]

Astarion & Intimacy

Astarion: The man of your dreams, the hope of him, is your own worst enemy.

Am I ready? NO. Do I have to be ready? All the fucking time? In this economy? I'm just going to collapse dramatically, on a personal note. Also, this may be best as a work in progress somewhat.

I want to acknowledge his resonance with [sex workers]. Check out this author's excellent [fan fiction] handling the matter and the nuances.

His arc is understandably very personal to survivors of sexual abuse, so please take care as you go along and know you aren't alone. These observations are meant to be a character analysis and my personal interpretations.

Oh, Megan Thee Stallion, we're really in it now. I mean, we were before, but now also more.

The United States is experiencing an exponential rise in racism and hate crimes thanks to our [gutless, greedy leaders]. Racism is a system of oppression and an ideology of dehumanization, not a quirky character flaw. [Fandom has forever been a place used by extremists to recruit]. I've addressed issues surrounding the element of racism in Astarion's writing [here]. I would also like to highlight issues surrounding the portrayal of sexual slavery highlighted [here] by the excellent Stitch Media Mix.

Donate to Gaza here: https://gazafunds.org/ Support good causes with a click here: https://arab.org/ Ceasefire Now: https://ceasefire-now.com/ Donate to the [Sidewalk School] [Pay your rent], settlers. [Crips for E-Sims for Gaza].

Astarion has a fraught relationship with intimacy.

We meet him at the start of his new un-life. He continues to operate as though under Cazador's control. He hints at the things he had to do and only discusses it frankly in Act III. He was a sex slave to the vampire who sired him with no autonomy. Whatever affection or attraction he felt, he always had to deliver them to what he assumed was death on command:

Astarion: Ah, the bedrooms. Never once slept in. This is where I took our 'guests'. I'd entertain them here, until Cazador appeared and... took them away.

Vellioth and Cazador have rules. Here they are respectively:

Vellioth's first lesson is always to dominate. Allow none to be your equal. Vellioth's second lesson is that power comes from solitude. To share with others is to be weak, and to be weak is to fail... and die. Vellioth's third lesson is to act not in haste. A near immortal has time to plan, time to act only when others will pay the price of action.

How they were adapted in relation to Astarion:

First, thou shalt not drink of the blood of thinking creatures. Second, thou shalt obey me in all things. Third, thou shalt not leave my side unless directed. Four, thou shalt know that thou art mine.

*sigh* So, understandably, his view of relationships is like:

Astarion: You never asked me to take my shirt off. I always thought they were a sign of my humiliation. I never realised there might be more to them. But Raphael told us he can make the impossible come true. I have to try my luck. Player: We really shouldn't trust him. Astarion: I don't trust him. He doesn't trust me. We are using one another for our mutual benefit. You should try it some time.

(idk if this is cut or not, but I found it interesting.)

Give his, um, "approach," there is an understandable question of how much of his romance is sincere. Mechanically and as far as the story is concerned, it begins with enough influence/on the first night he spends with the PC and he says things to indicate as much later. I do still understand why this would leave a sour taste in other player's mouths and come off as unnecessarily manipulative, considering it's not a conversation you can hash out with Astarion.

This is as close to confronting him about his intentions in Act I. I believe this happens if you slept with him once and never spoke to him again until Act II (RIP players with ADHD):

Astarion: Seeking to correct your mistake? Player: I'm not sure. I feel there's something you haven't told me. Astarion: Perhaps you got the wrong idea. I never slept with you for pleasure alone. Couldn't you tell? Back in the forest, we both came out on the winning side. The game was clear. You get a moment of escape with a world-endingly beautiful vampire. I get someone to defend me from Cazador. Now, though, I'm hardly going to give you a treat when you haven't helped me in exchange for my excellent services. Player: You were just tricking me into thinking you wanted me in earnest? Astarion: This is what I do. Who did you think you were dealing with? Some fairy tale prince? You are one of a tiny number of people I've slept with who aren't dead. Cheer up, it's quite the achievement! There isn't going to be any more 'us', though. I just don't see the point.

("Treat." Interesting. He has many allegories to consumption, gluttony, greed, and the ouroboros. He also has a tendency to behave and speak like Cazador in his idea of fairness. We may glean a lot about Cazador from Astarion's initial interactions.)

To acknowledge the depth of the wrongs he unwillingly committed with his own hands and the hurt he felt would be psychologically overwhelming compared to pretending to be someone like the perpetrator he was forced to emulate (and who notably pretends not to hurt). It is not always healthy to tear through someone's defensive adaptations, even though people still have to make amends.

His trauma with intimacy is not only with others, but with himself. Personally, I interpret his Act I scene as his first consensual attempt at intimacy, both in sex and in his trauma, in body and soul, embodied by his scars.

Initiating the Romance

He's a vampire, so we're playing into the seduction trope to begin the romance. My demipansexual ass believes there is room for an ace route since *gestures at Karlach and the topic of this essay,* but I digress.

The game takes two interesting tones, depending on whether you have high approval when he propositions the PC or propositions at the Tiefling/Raid party. I'd argue the former is slightly more affectionate than the other, but they're both good for different reasons and for different Tavs.

Should he initiate a relationship with the PC, he sets expectations early on. He's afraid of returning to Cazador's control even with a lot of influence, so he keeps the PC at arm's length and sticks to his One Night Stand routine. He's hilariously taken aback at the party by being asked to say "please." Devnotes for the party:

After the party, Astarion is standing in a corner, bottle of wine in hand, in a bad mood. Everything's too merry for him, not hedonistic enough. But there's the possibility of a little hedonism with the player, if you both agree to meet up for a little 'fun' later in the night. That's a tantilising thought - there might be something to look forward to after all.

High approval (and acting, uh, much more agreeable than my Tav to demonstrate Astarion's double-edged language):

Astarion: Darling, I was just thinking about you. Remembering our time together, the things we've shared - and I don't just mean that lovely neck of yours. I'm growing to like the whole package, honestly. And you clearly like me too, so... Player: What gave it away? Astarion: I could feel it as I was getting lost in your neck. Your little shakes of excitement. You enjoyed it, didn't you? Player: Yes, I did. Astarion: So did I. More than words can say. You deserve a reward. I am so very pleased with what you gave me. We could take an evening to ourselves. Get away from camp - get some privacy. I know somewhere quiet. Somewhere intimate. Somewhere we can... indulge in each other. Player: That sounds pretty good to me. Astarion: Wonderful. I just hope we don't have to wait too long before we can steal away. But once we can, I promise you a night you'll never forget. See you there, lover

The devnotes say "wonderful" is said with a big smile.

He'll be disappointed if you choose to spend the night with someone else in both situations, though he plays it off with his classic icy facade - the defense mechanism against emotional intimacy he developed under Cazador.

This is hard to articulate because it is entirely based on emotional logic, but I'll try my best. A gentle reminder that Astarion can reject the PC, so the fact this is one of the first acts of intimacy he chooses to engage in is important. This is the beginning of his romance, however you headcanon the event for the couple. It is partly what is a real romance scene, even if he can't fully commit himself for psychological reasons.

He still chooses to do so because intimacy is fun for him. Let's acknowledge, sympathize with, and not excuse the limited scope of interaction he had for two centuries, so traumatizing he doesn't remember much of his previous life. While he once engaged in intimacy under enthrallment, now he does it out of attraction, curiosity, and guile.

The second night with the player has this is in the dialogue notes:

Second time Astarion propositions the player to sleep with him [...] The player starts to realise Astarion might have been just playing an act to seduce them the whole time, and that his affection for them might not be genuine. Bridges the gap before he confesses this in his act 2 romance, and says he wants to stop manipulating people and have a real relationship.

The only real "indicator" for me was just that he didn't seem... affectionate. For all of his reactivity and greetings, he is surprisingly bereft of scenes that confirm or put to question his feelings. I do appreciate much of the subtlety, mind you - but he's notably rejecting of intimacy throughout the game and I did interpret it as a one night stand. A few transition scenes would have done us much good, though there are definitely ways to play it with satisfying sweetness.

When you agree meet up with him with high approval the second time:

Astarion: I hoped you would come. I have missed you. And now you're all mine, and I'm all yours. Until morning at least. Let's see where the night takes us.

The devnote says: "with a smile - he's not about to commit to anything long-term"

When you reject him:

Player: I think it's better if we leave last time as a once-off. Astarion: Well, well, excuse me while I die of a broken heart. In all honesty, it is a shame. That time was special to me. I've gotten on my back ten thousand times or more, and forgotten half of them. But you... you I'll remember. Have a fine evening, dear.

The first time I heard it, I was taken aback that he found it in himself to be sincere.

Oh, and that it wasn't actually a one-night stand.

In hindsight, the fact this is one of the few times early in the story he offers any honesty at all tells me he's being genuine. Spending the night with his lover was special to him, and we understand why with context.

Something Real

Astarion: I was trying, with you, you know. In the only way I can try.

Well, this dialogue option may make it seem like he does try, but I will point out that he isn't particularly overt about his affection (I want to emphasize that I understand this characterization to a point - but remember that the PC does not know him and that this affection is supposed to be genuine. You can convey that without being cheesy).

The times this is clearly played out are during break-ups:

Player: Whatever is between us, we need to end it. Astarion: I - I can hardly blame you. I don't exactly have much to offer right now, beyond new burdens to carry. Player: This just isn't what I wanted, when we first slept together. Astarion: I was beginning to believe someone truly wanted me. But I shouldn't have deluded myself. From the start, I was rather counting the hours until it was going to end. Midnight chimes, eh?

How adorable would it be if he truly played up this Cinderella reference in romance? Instead, there is a lot of bitterness and mixed-messaging in his romance. It makes for a weaker story.

I do also take his dialogue literally. He thinks you will only want his beautiful, eternal, and dead form, and not the mutable person beneath. There are other indications, even outside of a romantic partnership:

Player: Unlike you to be so unwilling to receive a new power... Astarion: That was before I knew the cost. Before I knew it meant transforming into some grotesque beast. I remember how it hurt when I turned to a vampire. My body writhed and warped while I was utterly helpless, the grip of death owned my heart as it beat its last. I - I don't want to turn into anything else. I can't do that again. I can't watch my body be taken over. Player: You're afraid? Astarion: I'll happily murder my way to whatever powerful artefacts we can make use of. Point at the back and I'll stab. Just don't ask me to sacrifice my body. It hasn't been mine for so long.

The few dialogues that clarify Tav's complete domination over him, the one Cazador acknowledges.

Once more:

Player: Your illithid powers are the only reason you can stand up to Cazador. This will help you defeat him. Astarion: I'm really not sure... Player: Tell me of the weakest moment you ever felt in those two hundred years. Narrator: *As you pick apart his mind, you discover his worst memory. That which brings him the purest terror. Complete solitude after being disobedient. Sealed. Buried alive. Voiceless. Will this be forever? A year of horror. Then the release. He will never disobey again.* Player: You never want to risk that again. Even if it means becoming part-illithid. Astarion: Damn it. Damn you. All right... I'll do it.

The player may command him to change his very being.

I think we must view this in the context of one of his few real attractions: Sebastian.

Narrator: *Approaching the cells, you're met by hollow faces and eyes reluctant to meet your gaze. There's an almost physical stink of decay and neglect.* Sebastian: You. I know you. Narrator: *The last time you heard this voice, it was singing drunkenly, whispering sweetly, then sighing with pleasure. One of your conquests, claimed for Cazador. He should have been consumed long ago.* Astarion: I remember you. Sebastian: I can never forget you. Astarion: How are you still alive? Sebastian: It's your fault. You stole my life - stole my death. You smiled and joked and got me drunk. You called me so many sweet things. My name sounded like a lyric on your tongue. I want to hear you say it again. Say my name. Astarion: *Among the scars on his face is one you recognise - it's identical to one of the runes carved into your back.* That scar on your face - it must bind you to Cazador's Black Mass. Sebastian: No more games. Say my name! Narrator: *He looks at you expectantly, his hollow eyes boring into yours.* Astarion: Sebastian. Sebastian: You still make it sound so beautiful. You were my first. And my last. [...] Astarion: You should be dead. Why didn't Cazador feed on you? Sebastian: He made me a spawn. Left me here to rot. But I can't rot - I can't die. Astarion: I'm so sorry. Sebastian: You brought me to this hell. Abandoned me. How long has it been? Astarion: One hundred and seventy years. You were one of my first too. Sebastian: My family - my friends - they're gone... You took them from me. You took everything from me!

Against the threat of complete annihilation of his lovers, he still wanted connection. Pursuing his romantic and sexual interests were empowering to him. His autonomy is a weapon that can be wielded against him to great effect.

In his ascension:

Astarion: *Sigh.* There's no use in us fighting any longer, is there? You are a person of rare talent. You aided greatly in my conquest, even if you did not end up a part of it. And if we were beholden to one another? Well, how is that too different to being enslaved? It is for the best. Player: You were terrible for me. And I did terrible things for you. Astarion: The gravest crimes committed in this world are committed for love. A hunger crueller than bloodlust. I know how to play with it, and can't resist playing the hand I know. I would have ruined your love, used your trust until you were nothing.

The PC was not "part" of his conquest. Being in love with them was equal to the torment of enslavement to him. His worst impulses say: Let none be your equal.

Love: A hunger crueler than blood lust.

The man of your dreams: Your worst enemy.

He embodies them all in ascension, or becomes himself.

After completing his quest and breaking up in Act III:

Astarion: Well... Goodbye, then. I suppose. You brought my dead heart back to life. It will keep beating.

This is when he comes to a healthier place and keeps romance as a part of his life, and not its driving force. Good for him.

[amiramorozova]

Destiny's selection- Grishaverse Aleksander x Amira werewolf-Choices and Bonds

The soft glow of the morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting a golden light over the room. Amira lay contentedly beside Aleksander, her head resting against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. The past few weeks had been a blur of intense emotions and moments of intimacy that had drawn them closer than she ever thought possible.

She smiled to herself, savoring the warmth of his body, the way his arm draped lazily across her waist. Last night had been another moment of shared closeness, their bond deepening each time they came together. She had never felt so connected to anyone, and while she had once feared the intensity of their relationship, now she found comfort in it.

But their peaceful moments couldn't last forever. In the weeks that followed, duty called, and Aleksander, as the Alpha of Alphas, was constantly balancing his role as leader of the Grisha army and his personal life with her. Though they found stolen moments to be together, there were always the demands of the army and the Little Palace.

One morning, a few weeks after their fated bond had been sealed, Aleksander stood before the gathered Alphas, his expression serious as he addressed the group.

"The raffle chooses brides," Aleksander began, his voice commanding as always. "But I also recognize that duty to the army comes first. There are times when mates will be called away for days, even weeks, on missions or other responsibilities. As such, I am implementing a new rule."

The Alphas and their brides listened attentively, the air thick with curiosity.

"I understand the needs of the pack, and I know that those needs do not simply disappear when a mate is absent," Aleksander continued. "So, in the absence of a mate due to duty, Alphas are allowed to have side hookups during those times."

There was a brief murmur of surprise that rippled through the room, but no one dared to question the Alpha of Alphas directly. Aleksander's tone left no room for argument. It was a practical solution to an unavoidable problem—Grisha often had to prioritize the army over personal relationships, and this was a way to ensure their needs were met without jeopardizing their bonds.

Later that evening, Amira found herself alone with Aleksander in one of the palace's quieter lounges. The fire crackled softly in the hearth, and they were both relaxed, enjoying the rare quiet moment. As they sat together, Amira couldn't help but reflect on Aleksander's new rule.

After a moment of silence, she turned to him, curiosity etched on her features. "About that new rule you made..." she began, her tone light but probing. "The one about side hookups."

Aleksander raised an eyebrow, his dark eyes studying her with interest. "What about it?"

Amira hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to phrase the question that had been lingering in her mind since he made the announcement. She knew Aleksander was often called away from the Little Palace, sometimes for weeks at a time, and while she understood the need for the rule, it brought up a new set of uncertainties.

"Does that rule apply to the raffle girls too?" she asked, her voice soft but direct.

Aleksander didn't answer right away. He leaned back slightly, his eyes thoughtful as he considered her question. He knew the implications of what she was asking. As the Alpha of Alphas, he was often pulled away from the palace for his duties, and during those absences, Amira would be left behind. Her needs—both physical and emotional—were important to him, and he couldn't ignore the reality of their situation.

He reached out, gently taking her hand in his, his thumb brushing over her skin. "I made that rule for the Alphas because I understand the strain that duty can put on bonds," he said slowly. "And yes, if it's necessary, that rule applies to the raffle girls as well. But I don't want you to feel like you have to follow it."

Amira's heart skipped a beat as she listened to his words. She appreciated his honesty, and the fact that he was leaving the choice up to her. But the thought of him being away for long periods of time, and the rule he had just implemented, left her with mixed feelings.

"What about when you're away?" she asked, her voice softer now, almost hesitant. "You're gone for weeks sometimes... what happens then?"

Aleksander's gaze softened, and he leaned in closer, his hand tightening slightly around hers. "Amira, when I'm away, I don't want you to feel abandoned or neglected. If the time comes when you need something... or someone... I want you to know that I trust you to make the right choice."

Amira felt a wave of emotion wash over her. She had spent so long running from this bond, from the weight of tradition, but now that she had accepted it, she realized just how complicated things could be. Aleksander's words reassured her, but they also left her with questions about what she truly wanted.

She leaned her head against his shoulder, closing her eyes as she processed everything. "I just don't want things to change between us," she murmured.

Aleksander pressed a gentle kiss to her hair, his voice low and steady. "Things won't change, Amira. Not unless you want them to. Our bond is strong, and I'll always come back to you."

His words brought her comfort, and for now, that was enough. But as the fire crackled softly beside them, Amira knew that this was only the beginning of the choices they would have to face.

Amira looked up at Aleksander, her fingers still intertwined with his, her thoughts swirling as she considered the reality of his duties. She had accepted their bond, had embraced the depth of their connection, but the idea of him being away for weeks at a time, alone, unsettled her.

"Will you..." she hesitated for a moment, then continued, "Will you take a side hookup when you're away for weeks on duty?"

Aleksander's response was immediate, his voice firm and unwavering. "No, I will not."

The certainty in his tone sent a wave of relief through her, but also a flicker of curiosity. Aleksander had always been so composed, so in control of his emotions, yet the quickness of his answer suggested that he had already made up his mind long before she'd asked the question.

He leaned closer, his hand gently brushing her hair behind her ear as he spoke. "You're different from other she-wolves, Amira. I've never felt the pull toward anyone like I do with you." His voice softened, a rare vulnerability showing. "When I'm away, I'll take something with your scent on it to keep me content. That will be enough for me."

Amira's heart swelled at the sentiment, her fingers tightening around his. The idea of Aleksander carrying something with her scent, something to remind him of her, while he was gone filled her with warmth. But even as she took comfort in his words, another question lingered in the back of her mind.

"And what about me?" she asked softly. "You don't want me struggling when you're gone, do you?"

Aleksander's expression softened further, his gaze filled with a mix of understanding and concern. "I don't," he admitted. "That's why I told you about the rule, Amira. I don't want you to feel like you have to suffer in my absence. I trust you, and I know the time apart will be difficult, but I want you to do what's best for you when I'm not here."

Amira considered his words, the weight of his trust in her settling heavily on her heart. She appreciated the freedom he was offering her, but part of her still struggled with the idea of it all.

After a long moment of silence, she shifted the conversation to something that had always nagged at her curiosity. "Aleksander," she began, her tone thoughtful, "why do we serve a human king? Why not a Grisha leader? I mean, the king doesn't even understand our true nature."

Aleksander's gaze darkened slightly, his posture becoming more serious as he processed her question. "It's not as simple as it seems," he said after a moment. "The humans don't know about our wolf side. To them, we're Grisha—humans with special gifts. They believe our abilities come from what they call 'small science.' That's how we've always been perceived by the human world."

Amira frowned slightly. "But we're more than that. You're more than that."

Aleksander nodded, his expression unreadable. "We are, but the humans aren't ready to know the truth. If they knew that we were wolves, that we had a side to us they couldn't control or understand, it would throw everything into chaos. We've kept our wolf nature hidden for centuries, and for now, that's how it has to stay."

He paused, his eyes meeting hers with a quiet intensity. "Serving the human king is a necessity for now. It keeps the balance between our world and theirs, and it allows us to maintain our freedom without raising suspicion. But make no mistake, Amira, I don't answer to anyone but myself. The king may think he holds the power, but the true strength lies with us."

Amira absorbed his words, understanding the delicate balance they had to maintain in their world. It was a strange reality, but it made sense. The humans saw them as Grisha, gifted with abilities beyond comprehension but still human. The truth of their wolf nature was a secret they would protect at all costs.

She leaned back against Aleksander, feeling the warmth of his body and the reassurance of his presence. "I see," she said quietly. "So, we're wolves living in a human world, pretending to be something else."

"Exactly," Aleksander murmured, his voice low. "But that doesn't change who we are. And it doesn't change what you mean to me."

Amira smiled softly at his words, her mind still spinning with everything she had learned. There was so much she still had to understand about the world she now found herself fully immersed in, but one thing was clear: with Aleksander by her side, she was ready to face whatever challenges came their way.

TagList: @lifeisingrey​,  @houseoftoomanyfandoms​, @mizelophsun11​, @budugu​ ,  @wheresthesunshinesblog.

[anemia-rp]

Xuan moans again softly at that ass slap, looking back at Teru with a playful scold in his eyes. "Glad you like it so much... I guess we both must have the best asses in this whole world!~" He chuckles and finally rests his head on Teru's chest, taking in his scent and the warmth of his body, as they both relax after that amazing round of sex. "I love you baby. Always and forever." Xuan murmurs and kisses his boyfriend's chest, but in a soft and wholesome way.

"Your wings are really pretty.~" Xuan smiles and reaches out to touch on of the wing wrapped around the both of them like a cocoon of love and warmth. "The colors really suit you." He continues and gently caresses the feathers, almost mesmerized by their look and feel. So soft and yet firm and strong enough to lift his lover into the air if he'd ever wanted to fly. "I must have really fed you well for those to come out like this." The Chinese chuckles and says after another moment of silence and he lifts himself up slightly on his elbows to look at Teru and admire him. "I guess you are right... We'll probably be doing this role reversal thing more in the future. How often, I don't really know, since you know me, I am a bastard who loves to be the one in charge and make you scream like crazy from the greatness of my cock. But I must admit that this kind of experience is fun too." His lips lift up into a crooked smile that indicates he's really enjoying himself. "Actually, you know what? Since I am a generous master and because I love you, we'll do it this way whenever you will want, my love. I think you've earned this right, of claiming me whenever your heart will desire and I will be more than happy to oblige!~" Xuan then tenderly reaches out to touch Teru's face and caress it gently. "Maybe next time we could do it missionary... I guess it could be fun and hot, seeing you from bottom up and having our bodies pressed together as we both lose ourselves to this pleasure." Xuan sighs softly in pleasure and slight arousal just from that thought alone. "I love you more than it could ever be put into words and even if I risk sounding like a broken record, I'll never grow tired of telling you how much I love you! You are my world, my absolute everything!"

"Fuck yeah! Best asses and best dicks! What a fucking coincidence!" His chest raised and lowered underneath the other's cheek while he was still chuckling, and his hand stroked over Xuan's head, feeling the silky hair underneath his fingertips what was a sweet pleasure to the incubus. Just like the whole situation, filled with warmth, comfort and intimacy. "Same, my love. This feelings will never run out, I know it. That's why love is the biggest magic and the strongest force on earth!" He closed his eyes, but although he appeared peaceful the demon was still present, feeding on the lingering sexual hormones the other oozed with his sweat.

"Yeah, huh? They're pretty cool! I'd like to show them more often, but guess people would point at me and yell 'a dragon!' if they saw them…and I dunno what would happen then!" Thus he usually hid them well. That he had shown them to Xuan was a proof of how much he trusted him. So what he wasn't used to at all was to have them caressed. With a deep groan he enjoyed it, shuddering even lightly. "You've been the most delicious meal, Master. Not just a little snack after all." A befuddled, blissful expression decorated his face as he still held his eyes closed, though he opened them when he sensed Xuan shifting, gazing at the other then with a dreamy expression, the corners of his mouth widening to a smirk. "Uuuuh, I'll forever love it to take your cock anyway, that will never change!" The tip of his tongue appeared between his parted lips, his left eyebrow rising while he made a content face. "Woooh, so I've been a really good boy when it comes to topping as well, huh? Daaamn…my dick's gonna be so happy! You make it the happiest dick on earth!" Having the other caress his cheek he snuggled it into Xuan's palm in a confiding way. "We'll do it in every way you wanna have me! I promise I'll fuck you good no matter what position." His fingers glided up and down onto the other's lower arm, caressing it gently. "And I'm gonna love you even if you were a broken record, you know?" He sighed contendly, but then wrapped his arms around Xuan again, rolling around with him so Teru laid on top now. "You're my fave tune after all!"

@phoenix-of-jade

[asahipleaseloveme]

Wait

A Part II to Threshold

Tsukishima x reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Author's Note: More Angst, but with a happier ending. Feedback is appreciated!

Warnings: mention of verbal abuse; mention of emotional abuse; alcohol consumption; let me know if I missed something and I'll add it

========================================

The period after a break-up has never been easy for you, and this one would surely be the one that you wouldn’t recover from. It had been a few months since you packed up and left Tsukishima all alone without an explanation. But the more you thought about it, the more evident it was that the signs were all there. And Tsukishima is a smart guy, you figured he could put two and two together. The arguing, the avoidance, the non-existent intimacy. He had to have known it was only a matter of time. He had to have known. He had to.

When you left, you tried to take everything of yours and leave everything of his. Even his old jersey he had gifted to you. You loved that jersey. It was such a thoughtful gift and in his own way, it was an act of love. You knew he loved when you wore it to games and everyone saw you wearing his name. He would always encompass you in a sweaty hug after the game and you reveled in it. Now, you can’t even watch him play anymore. You tried to watch a televised game once and had to turn it off before the first set even finished. It was too much for you. In fact, a lot of your daily routine was almost too much for you. Change was hard and you were still trying to get used to your new way of life. You avoided many of your favorite places in fear that you would bump into him. You honestly didn’t know how you could face him after everything.

“C’mon, ______. It’s been three months. Lingering on this isn’t helping you at all. Come with me to the arcade bar!” Your overly eager friend pushed.

“You know I can’t. What if I-”

“What if? What if what? You bump into him? There’s no rule that says you have to talk to him or that you even owe him an explanation. You can’t keep punishing yourself and depriving yourself of fun. You can’t live your life based on the “what ifs”. Start living by the “why nots”. Now, why not put on your favorite outfit and why not just come out with meeeeeeeeee.”

The more you thought about it, the more you couldn’t really fault their reasoning. It had been months since you had gone out and attempted to have fun.

You sighed with a smile, “I suppose you're right. I can be ready in 20.”

You were a ball of anxious energy until you finally reached your destination. An arcade bar was a pretty low key place. You could immerse yourself in a game and shut everyone out. It was a start anyway. You ordered your favorite drink at the bar and then went to find a game that was secluded in a corner. Galaga was the game you decided on as it seemed simple enough. The nice thing was that the bar was fairly empty so you didn’t have to worry about someone jumping in on the game when you went to get another drink. You were so focused on the game that you didn’t notice a tall figure occupying the game next to you. Once you lost your last life, the screen popped up that you had just earned the highest score.

“You’re pretty good at that game,” a familiar voice startled you. Your whole body froze up, your heart leapt up into your throat, you could feel the heat rushing to your cheeks. Was it the alcohol or the extreme guilt surging through your body? A combination of both you decided.

You turned to the figure standing next to you. It was hard to breathe, let alone form words.

“Tsukki-” you squeaked out in a little more than a whisper. Heart threatening to pound out of your chest, you turned fast on your heel.

“Wait,” he reached out and grabbed your wrist. The action caused you to stop and stare at his hand. “Sorry,” he said as he let go, “I just-I saw you and I...you...Can we go somewhere to talk?”

“We can talk right here,” your voice hoarse as though you’ve been yelling for hours.

“______, I’m not going to talk about what happened right here. We can-”

“If you want to talk, then we can do it right here. And if you’re going to make any snide comments or demean me, then I’m just going to walk out.” You weren’t sure where this surge of confidence came from, but you were grateful that it happened.

Tsukishima put his hands up, “I promise that is not why I came over here. And you have every right to walk away if I say something that offends you.” He lowered his hands down to his side, stuffing them into his pockets. “______, why? Why just walk away without saying anything?”

“You had to have known something was wrong between us, Tsukishima. The constant fights, the way you avoided me, the way you talked to me like I was a piece of garbage. I tried to bring it up, but you put up your walls and kept me out. One of us was going to leave eventually. And I don’t know if I could have handled walking into a half empty apartment. You’re stronger than I am, always have been. I figured it wouldn’t be as hard for you to adjust to it,” you stammered as you struggled to form coherent sentences.

He closed his eyes for a few seconds before taking a deep breath and staring at you. “Ever since you left, I realized you mean more to me than anything else in this world. ______, I was an idiot. Still am, probably. I’ve had a lot of time to think. I was wrong. For many things. Insulting you. Ignoring you. Letting you think you were all alone in a place where you should have felt at home.”

He paused, a slight red brushing across his cheeks and the tips of his ears. “But I think the worst thing I did was keep my walls up while you broke yours down for me. I took for granted your love for me, and for that I was wrong.” He slammed his eyes shut and for a moment, it looked as though there were tears forming along his lids.

A moment of silence passed.

“______, you’re the best thing I never knew I needed. Please, can we try this again?”

“You don’t need me, Tsukishima. You never have, so why would we start now?”

For a slight moment, you catch a glimmer of desperation on his face.

“Maybe you’re right. I don’t need you, just like you don’t need me,” the words burned your heart hearing them come from his mouth. “But, ______,” he grabbed your hands. “I want you to be with me. I want you to be the one who comes to see me for lunch at work. I want you to be the one who greets me at the front door. The one who presses up against my back in the middle of the night. The one who I kiss goodbye to in the morning. I want it to be you who wears my jersey and cheers for me. Please, I just want you back,” his voice cracked.

You were taken aback. This is not what you were expecting from him.

“What happens when I mess up or we have a disagreement? Are you going to shut me out and we’ll just have a repeat of the last three months of our relationship? As much as I want the good times with you back, I don’t think I can handle anymore of the bad times. Do you know how hard it is to hear the person you love belittle and berate you? All I ever wanted was to make you happy, and I’m not sure I can do that anymore. I-I’m sorry,” you let your hands fall from his and move to walk past him.

He doesn’t try to stop you this time. He only stares at the floor with his head down. You walked past several arcade games before turning around once more to look at him.

“He’s trying, ______,” Tadashi leaned over to you. You didn’t even realize he was here, too. ‘He’s been working on it. He talks about you every day and what he would do if he could just have another chance with you. I’m not saying he deserves another chance, that’s ultimately up to you. I think you leaving really opened his eyes to what he had and just how badly he messed up.”

Tadashi's words seem to resonate with you. He has no reason to lie to you. He's always been a good friend to you. You stare at the back of Tsukishima's head for a good 30 seconds.

“I still love him,” you whispered as tears started to fall from your face. He was still standing in the same spot, opening and closing his fists. You took a deep breath and walked back over to him.

“Tsukishima,” you placed your hand on his elbow. “Tsukishima, I still love you. After everything, I still love you. What’s that stupid saying “if you love something let it go and” ugh, I can never remember the last part.”

“If it comes back it’s yours forever?”

“Yeah, that. I don’t know if I can promise forever. But I can promise to give you my best, if you promise to give me your best. And when we’re at our worst, we try to work through it together. We might have to take this slow to build up what we used to have. But, I’m willing if you’re willing. Why not?”

Tsukishima wrapped you up and buried his face in the top of your hair.

A wave of relief washed over you and peace was what you felt at the moment.

“I love you, ______.”

You texted your friend to let them know that you were leaving and thanks for the afternoon outing.

“You wanna come back to my place and watch a movie?” You asked Tsukki as you both walked out of the bar.

“I would like to, but I already told Yamaguchi I’d hang out with him today.”

“Hm, that’s too bad. I saw that they’re streaming the Jurassic Park Trilogy. Maybe another time, then?” You said as you continued walking. “Um, text me later if you want.”

He stopped in his tracks and pulled out his phone, “Well, I guess Yamaguchi will have to accept a rain check from me this time. He’ll understand.”

His long legs made quick work of catching back up to you. He ever so delicately interlocked his fingers with yours as you continued to your apartment.

Something about him was different. It was too soon to tell if it was a good kind of different, but you were willing to get acquainted with him again to find out.

[raggaraddy]

The Basement: part one

Anon request: Hi can I request an assassin!yoongi one shot where yoongi gets jealous over reader somehow even though I know he isolates her so she depends on him but maybe she somehow stumbles into a colleague of his in his living room or a friend and the friend is 👀 looking not so respectfully

A/N: Enjoy lovely. 💜💜💜 Part two

Summary: For the first time ever there is someone else in the house with you and Yoongi. How could Yoongi expect you to resist speaking with him.

Trigger warnings: Violence, intimidation, kidnapping, imprisonment, yandere themes.

Yoongi

Yandere! Yoongi

Assassin! Yoongi

It may only be a few hundred square meters, but this house is your entire world. You know every creak, every floorboard that squeaked, how each door closes, everything. So in the middle of the night when you are woken by an almighty thump, at once you could recognize how out of place it was.

Cautiously sneaking downstairs and peering around every bend, you are just in time to see Yoongi slamming the basement door shut behind him.

Putting your ear to the entrance, you could hear the sounds of banging, of the chains, of low spoken voices. Over and over in your head, you told yourself to ignore it. To go back to bed and let it be. But the signs that there was another person down there with Yoongi were clear, and the temptation of that was too much to bear.

Your lesser instinct winning out, you open the door, instantly coming face to face with an ascending Yoongi. And behind him, in the place where you had been chained up many times before was a hooded man. Seated on the floor in a slumped position. His hands fixed against the wall keeping them high.

"Out," Yoongi demands, shoving your shoulder lightly to push you back through the doorway.

"Who-" is all you can gape, disbelief printed on your face.

"Not your concern." He refuses, closing the door. Continuing to push you back into the kitchen. "You do not go down there. Am I clear?" A finality to his expression not allowing any room for discussion or expansion.

Nodding, with a small pout you look at the basement one last time before faking a smile and returning to bed.

You were awestricken. Not once in nearly 8 months have you seen or heard another person in this house. Also not during the 6 months stretch before that. No one had visited. Not a single person had come past the house or had even driven up the driveway by accident. Your curiosity was burning you from the inside out. Your longing to see, to speak to another human aching your very soul.

Yoongi had gone into town, leaving you alone with the unlocked basement door. You'd always been chained up if he kept you down there, so it had never needed to be locked before. And the very idea of taking a quick peek was so tantalizing. However, on the more sensible side of this debate, you knew that Yoongi's word was final and you had never disobeyed him before.

You would like to say you were smart enough for this to at least be a difficult decision. But you swiftly threw common sense to the wind and went downstairs the second you heard the car pull out of the garage. Your body buzzing as you approached the new man.

With a heavy breath and timorous movements, you pull the hood back from the man's head. Black, straight, short hair. Dark, full brows, a perfect heart-shaped face, and ears that stuck out just a little too far. From head to toe, he's largely built. Taller and wider than Yoongi, making you astounded to think about how dangerous he really was.

For a few seconds, the both of you look equally surprised to see the other. Your pulse coursing through your ears, mouth slightly agape, looking at another human for the first time in forever.

"Hi," you squeak, nothing else coming to mind.

"Who are you?" He snarls.

It's spoken with so much hostility, but that question is one that brings you so much relief. You break down, pouring out your entire story in a rampant monologue. Telling him in detail everything you could about you, Yoongi, this place and your abductions. Fully spilling all that you had been so desperate to tell.

He, however, gives you nothing in return. For nearly 10 minutes you ask him question after question and he declines them all. Not even his name slips loose. He explains once that he can't know if your working with Yoongi, or that lunatic as he called him, and he is not going to tell you a single thing. Every question afterwards is only met with a solemn stare or a shake of refusal.

"If you won't tell me anything," you mope a little, "well, you look like a James Bond character, so I'm going to call you Mr Spy. The Spy? 007. Spy-man? I'll work on it." You mutter completely senseless and giddy from this rare moment. Continuing to overshare and divulge.

"Okay, Y/N. With everything you've told me, we're on the same page. So, if you help me get out of these," he rattles his hands, "Then I can get you out of this place."

The thought is alluring. But also more than you signed up for when you came down here. Firstly, Yoongi always keeps the keys for these chains on him. But secondly and most importantly, if you attempted to escape, if you tried to leave again Yoongi would never forgive you. You can't get away from him. You know you can't. And if you tried he would lock you up and throw away the key. You couldn't- You can't.

"I'm sorry, but no. I can't." You sadly brush his offer aside. Feeling awful denying him help like that. "I have to go back up before Yoongi comes home," you mumble.

Leaning over him you bring the hood up. You need to return him to how he was. He doesn't fight or argue, seeming to somberly accept his fate, but his eyes do dart to the top of the stairs at the last second.

Reacting to his troubled expression, you spin around seeing Yoongi already home, standing at the entrance.

At once your body tightens becoming flushed with sweat. Scrambling back from the man you stand in the middle of the room, trying to keep your breathing slow and deep to hide your fright.

"I thought," He starts to lower down the stairs, punctuating each point in his sentence with an additional step. "I said. You could not. Come in here."

"I'm sorry," you hush as Yoongi snatches the hood from your hand. Your head lowering in surrender.

"You want to save her?" He turns his attention and building anger towards his new prisoner. His fists are tight, knuckles cracking as he clenches and twists them. "You want to get her out of this place?" The challenge, the hash way he spits the words spoken about you is making the hairs on the back of your neck stand. Goosebumps flittering down your skin.

Lurching forward Yoongi's knee bashes into The Spy's head. And again. His foot following down booting him in the chest. And again.

"You think she wants to go with you?!" He growls, beating his fist into his head, over and over. The skin breaking, blood erupting all across his face. The Spy's restrained position not allowing him to protect himself in any way, only able to groan and splutter through the abuse. "You're too weak to even get yourself free. You think you can take her!" Yoongi steps back and lifts his leg, stomping the heel of his boot into the curled up fist of The Spy. Making him explode in a pained howl as you hear the bones crunch.

Not wanting to show any reaction, you stay coiled and fixed. Praying for this to end quickly. You had seen this level of violence and sadism from Yoongi before in the outside world. He doesn't acknowledge or accept any interference and he will only finish on his own terms.

You can't help but think if this is this how cruel and viciously he treats everyone else?

Stomping down again, this time he lines up The Spy's ankle. Throwing all his weight, all his force into the joint. The man's screams turning into cries as he wails in agony.

"No. You're not taking her anywhere." Yoongi straightens up, blowing out a heavy breath. Running his fingers back through his black hair over and over pulling it out of his face. "You're gonna tell me everything I wanna know. And then I'll finally let you die." He swallows hard, rearranging his clothes and loosening his muscles. His fiery explosion now quenched.

You can't lift your eyes as he drags you to the top floor. The basement door sealing, muffling the tears of the man below.

"Yoongi. I told him- I told him I couldn't-" You're starting and stopping, trying to sufficiently explain or plead your case. He's never shown anything near that level of violence towards you, but you were still sure he was about to lock you away endlessly for disobeying him.

He steps into you, silencing and making you jump back, smacking into the wall. Trapped between it and your hovering captor.

"I heard you." He speaks deeply and softly. In complete opposition to how he was moments ago. "Well done." His coarse pronunciation is abandoned as he speaks these words very clearly. Making sure you hear his sincerity.

His hand runs softly over your hair, stroking and cupping your head. Making you fight not to melt. Making you look up at him with big eyes. Any sort of affection from Yoongi instantly impacting you greatly, making you emotional and needy for more. Your bottom lip quivering, you whimper lowly as you lose the internal struggle and lean into his hand. Your eyes scrunching tight, hating yourself for how much his gentle touch affects your heart.

"Come with me," he holds your hand having you trail him upstairs. Taking you into his bedroom where he extends the affection and intimacy. Being with you so tenderly and kindly as your mind and heart tears back and forth between the softness you can feel now, and the horrors you saw him do before.

Despite the risks, your head fills with how and when you could see The Spy again. He was hurt, and he needed your help. And you were too eager to see him again. But when you wake the next day, you find a hefty padlock keeping the basement door sealed.

Yoongi at once reading your reaction. "You should thank me for locking that door Y/N. You don't know how dangerous some people can be."

Part two

[youryanderedaddy]

Bewitched

I say fuck writing schedule m’rite hahaHa... 

Dynamic: Yan!witch hunter x witch darling

Summary: You get captured by the village’s witch hunter but he might just let you live if you prove to be useful.

tw: nsfw, non-con, threats, mention of religous themes (God, Devil, etc), kindapping, obsessive/possessive behavior, slight violence, degradation, vulgar language

 You could hear something. It was different from the sweet songs of the birds early in the morning or the restless howl of the wolves just before the clock hit midnight. And the smell was different too. There were no daisies, roses, magnolia or herbs to cleanse the air from the nasty smell of humans. Your clothes reeked of someone unknown, someone mortal and cruel, foolish down to their heart. Your hands were tightly bound, your shoulders pushed back in a way it was hard to feel the energy running in your own veins. There was a leather blindfold over your eyes, dulling your senses until you felt like nothing more than an animal trapped in a cage. As soon as despair managed to find its way into your lungs he entered the room and you knew instantly it had been him who had captured you.

 "You are awake." The man noted quietly as his heavy yet careful steps got louder, closer. Soon his hand was resting on your thigh, drawing small pictures, initials, anything to throw you off balance and keep your mind closed and your inner vision too blurry to focus more on killing him and less on the shame his touch brought. "The village paid me to kill you. We know you are a filthy creature of the night." He spoke trough his teeth in a eery, off-putting way. You could feel the cold sharp end of his silver dagger poking at your exposed collarbone, near to your neck. One inch away from a fatal wound, one move away from taking your life forever.

 "Go on then." You taunted the hunter while licking your scarlet lips, your heartbeat still violent with no sign of slowing down any time soon. "Kill me." You whispered despite the fear tearing at your insides like a wild beast. The blade suddenly pressed harder against your skin, enough to make you still frozen but lacking the actual strength to pierce. The human knelt down next to you, never dropping the deadly weapon from its sacred spot on your vulnerable neck. "You are a witch. The Devil's own spawn and blood. I just can't let you live among us." The man uttered quickly like a curse yet made no attempt to move the edge deeper. And you wanted to tell him everything about the sisterhood and the way all of you lived in peace and quiet until the villagers started killing off your friends for existing. The way you loved nature and harmony and despised violence, but of course the human would never listen to a dirty sorceress, a witch. So you just stayed there motionless on the ground, reconciled with your terrifying fate and its twisted ways.

 Meanwhile the hunter let the dagger penetrate into the warm flesh, drawing a few drops of fresh blood, and it dripped onto the floor like a brook of suffering. But the man was hesitating - his palms were sweaty and his eyes were hazy, he was unsure. After a few painful moments of indecisiveness he finally pulled the blade away and threw it in the dark corner of the room. The following silence filled the space with tension so heavy it could suffocate until the villager opened his mouth. "You have seduced me with this unholy body of yours." Adam said sternly and clenched his fists. "That's why I can't kill you." His voice was low and dangerous yet desperate and defeated. "I saw you back then in the forest." He started off as his hand traveled to your cheek and stroked it gently. "You were dancing around and picking flowers. You looked so pure and beautiful - like an angel. I couldn't stop watching you." The hunter confessed quietly and you felt his cold lips on yours. The kiss was bitter, soaked with the humiliation of his advances and the knowledge he had you at his mercy. "Damn your evil magic for making me feel this way". The man dragged his teeth through your lower lip and bit down in anger, moaning into the forced act of fake intimacy.

 He pushed you down aggressively, the ropes digging into your bruised flesh even more now. You couldn't move your limbs at all and you felt too tired to argue or yell at the man. It was clearer than a day that he was obsessed with you but it was far from your doing. If you had known just how easily humans became fascinated by beauty and youth you would have thought twice before using their forest as a home. And as much as you wanted to curse the cruel man forever your heart just couldn't let you harm someone with a beating heart. You were stuck and he was touching you everywhere with a palm so warm it felt like wax on your sensitive skin. Your long black dress was ripped to shreds and all the red beads from your necklace were rolling on the floor as a mockery to your title. You were stripped down to your bones and left with nowhere to hide from the monster trying to break you. The energy in your body was gray and filthy, too weak to do more than upset you even further. 

 "I am going to make you mine tonight. I will use you like the dirty pagan slut you are." Adam cupped your breasts together in a swift move and you shivered at the contact of flesh. His words were painful and didn't help ease the fact that it was the first time someone had touched you in such a private place. In no time your eyes had filled with tears you were too proud to spill but too scared to hold back. "Aww, are you crying, wench? Go on, cry some more for me. When I'm done with you no one will want you. You'll be ruined for anyone other than me." He cooed at you and took hold of your naked legs, spreading them apart which caused you to break down in a pitiful mess of tears, snot and hushed breathes. "You should be greatful I am letting you live. If you weren't so beautiful I would have killed you in an instance." The hunter kept going, his voice low and deprived, his hot fingers brushing against your belly, the disgusting feeling in your guts making your chest tighten, caging your bleeding heart inside. "You are lucky I like taming wild animals." He continued harshly, a crazy look in his enlarged pupils so blue and clear, yet so intimidating and suffocating to its victims.

 You inhaled sharply in a desperate attempt to calm your nerves and begged the villager with any strength left in your trembling body. "Please stop, please, for the love of the universe, just don't do it, just let me go and you shall never see me again." In reply the man simply smirked maliciously and licked his lips as he positioned himself over your open, exposed folds. His hands were rough and grabby, roaming over your frame and groping, digging, pinching every little curve. You prayed to both nature and the Gods above someone would come and take you away from this nightmare but to no avail. "No one will save you, witch. If they find you, you're dead, so you better be nice and quiet like a corpse while I take you." Adam spat out with poison and without any warning thrust his massive manhood into your tight entrance. The pain was sharp and piercing, white and hot. This time you started crying out loud in despair finally having realized you were truly alone. The humans wanted nothing more than to see you burn and now you were getting punished for being different.

 The man didn't spare you any moment of suffering. He would place wet kisses all over your body, bite at the soft flesh until red and scratch any time he felt the need to hear your miserable whines. "Look at the way I'm splitting you open on my cock, you are so damn tight. I wouldn't have guessed you were a virgin if you weren't bleeding like a little bitch." Adam chuckled darkly and hit your cervix over and over again until the pain turned into something else you were too ashamed to name. "If you ever try to tempt someone else with this sinful body of yours I'll fucking kill you." The man cursed under his breath and brought two finger over your clit, stroking it gently and drawing cicles. You threw your head back at the sudden jolt of pleasure and closed your eyes, trying to distance your mind from what was being forcefully done to your anatomy.

 "You feel so good around my cock, so pretty with your tits bouncing every time I pound into you. I love you so much." The hunter suddenly uttered as he slowed down the pace, driving into you with careful thrusts before going back to roughly shoving his length into your sensitive hole. "Say it back." He ordered lowly and smashed his lips on yours pushing his wet tongue all the way in, his hands messaging your breasts and toying with the stiff little nipples on top. You gained the courage to shake your head no so the villager wrapped his fist around your slender neck, giving it a light squeeze as a warning. You had no choice but to mumble a soft "I love you." when your survival instincts took over your dignity. Your sweet broken voice was enough to send the man over the edge and he came violently in your tight channel while whsipering all sorts of terrible, filthy words into your ear.

 You thought the torture was finally over but your hopes were quickly shattered when Adam pressed his fingers over your overestimulated bud and flicked it around, your mind finding it hard to copperhead the intense pleasure after the pain. "Cum for me, wench." He commanded you harshly and kept playing with your love button until your pussy clamped down and you experienced your first orgasm at the hands of a filthy, egotistical human.

 The male stroked your hair gently but still didn't move to undo the ropes keeping you restrained on the hard floor. "I've always wanted you." The hunter admitted in the next moment. You wondered whether you wanted him to shut up or keep rambling to distract you from the shame and humiliation. Your eyes were red and puffy from the sobbing and your head pulsated with dull pain. "I'll never let them catch you." Adam reassured you quietly as he drew small circles on your arm with his knuckles. "I will keep you forever, my love. It doesn't matter that you have succumbed to the Devil because from now own you are only going to serve me." He kissed your neck softly.

 "I'll become your God."

[sunnyville36]

Mamihlapinatapai {part 5}

I am so excited to share the last part of this story with you.  It means so much to me to be able to share my work and have people enjoy it, so thank you to everyone who has read this little fic.  Huge shout out to the extremely talented @fizzydrink698 for being an inspiration to my writing and an all-around sweet and supportive human.  And the biggest thank you of all to my beta reader, @harry-on-broadway, for being the most encouraging and wonderful friend, without whom I never would have had the confidence to write this, let alone put it out into the world. 💜

Hope you enjoy the finale of Mamihlapinatapai.

Need to catch up? {overview} {part 1} {part 2} {part 3} {part 4}

Pairing: Bang Chan x Female Reader

Themes: royal au, medieval au, court intrigue, arranged marriage, original characters, mutual pining, slow burn

Warnings: smut, emotionally abusive parents, usage of degrading names

Rating: Mature

Word count: 6k

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

As Soft As Petals  |  Kingdom of Gu, present day

It was late into the evening, maybe even so late it was actually early, and you were standing outside the prince’s door, frantically knocking on it.

“Y/n, what’s happened?!  Is everything alright?”

You walked straight into the room, not even bothering to wait for Chan to invite you in.

“It’s my mother.  I can’t find her anywhere.  I assumed she went with a separate wagon party the way she came when we left Lajor, but everyone in the servants’ quarters says they haven’t seen her in hours and I’ve looked everywhere I can think of and - “

“Shh, shh, Y/n calm down, it’s alright,” Chan said, taking your hands in his.  You were full on hyperventilating at this point, your body starting to physically shake with worry.

“I-I just… these past few weeks I almost lost you and then we almost went to war and I can’t handle not knowing where she is.  I just can’t imagine what I’d do if she - ” your voice caught in your throat, unable to bring yourself to say your worst fear.

“I know, I know, but it’s going to be alright,” Chan soothed.  “I’m sure she’s fine and we’ll find her, but you are in no state now to continue looking for her.  Why don’t I ask a few of the guards to keep searching the palace grounds, and I’ll send a rider to Lajor to make sure she would have made it back with us?”

You looked up at him.  “You would do that?”

“Of course, Y/n, this is your mother we’re talking about.  We’ll do everything we need to until you know she’s safe,” he said, guiding you gently with him towards the door, knowing you wouldn’t want to let go of his hand based on the vice-like grip you currently had on it.  He leaned his head out into the hallway, calling for one of the guards stationed at the end and relaying what he wanted done to continue the search for your mother.  All the while you were watching him with an expression of awe and gratitude.  It still surprised you, how he seemed to know exactly what you needed, and even more so that he was willing to do whatever it took to do it for you.  He walked you back into the room, taking the both of you to sit on the edge of the bed.

“Thank you,” you breathed out, still catching your breath from your moment of distress.

“You don’t need to thank me,” he said gently, leaning down, his lips ever so slightly grazing the crown of your head.

You felt a shiver run through you.

“Your Highness,” you lifted your head to say something, hoping to avoid talking about what he had just done, but were stopped in your tracks by the look on his face.

“I was actually hoping to see you tonight.  I need to tell you something, Y/n.  And you might not like what I have to say, but I can’t keep denying it for the rest of my life.  These last few weeks have shown me that I can’t take anything for granted, so I intend to stop right now.”  He paused and stood up, giving you room to stop him if you wanted, but when you remained silent he took that as permission to keep going.

“I’m in love with you.  I think I always have been.  I’m in love with the way you hum that same silly tune to yourself when you’re doing chores.  How you can read a map of any terrain, how you’re not afraid to correct me when I make a mistake while drilling our sword fighting techniques.  I’m in love with the smile you get on your face when you ride through the woods and the way your hair looks when the light shines on it through the trees.”

You were aware your mouth was slightly open, your eyes staring at Chan like a dumbstruck deer, but you couldn’t quite wrap your head around the words he was saying.  You’d always known you still had feelings for him, and could only dream he reciprocated those same feelings.  But hearing him say all the little things you didn’t even notice about yourself, hearing him say he loved you for those things, your mind was at a loss for what to do.

“I love how you care for our people, how you always have their best interests at heart.  How you would be willing to never speak about these feelings I know we both share so as to not jeopardize your ability to serve me, to serve them.  But most of all I love that you see me.  Not the statesman or the fighter or the ruler, just me.”

You made up your mind then.  To hell with the king’s threats, with the questions your mother had asked you about responsibilities and sacrifices.  You had been making the greatest sacrifice of all for the last sixteen years, but no more.

You launched yourself at him, his arms wrapping around you immediately and your lips meeting his.

It was somehow exactly like that night five years ago and nothing like it at all.  You’d both grown in experience since then, having had other partners over the years.  Your lips moved smoother against one another’s, and it was more passionate than it was gentle.  But you felt that same feeling of euphoria glowing inside you, knowing that you were here with him and he was here with you and you were both finally admitting to what you’d always felt but never dared to acknowledge.  You felt yourself sinking into him, willing to let the tide of his love carry you away if it meant you could stay in this moment forever.  Your lips parted from his, Chan titling your head up to look at him.

“I need to hear you say it.  I need to know that you love me, too.”

You took his face in your hands, willing your voice to convey how sincere you were.

“I love you Chris.  I love the way your hair is always ruffled in the morning and that you sing to yourself when you think no one can hear.  I love how you take three cubes of sugar with your tea instead of two.  I love your determination to better yourself and your dedication to better your people.  I love that you have always treated me as an equal.  I love your dimples and your eyes and the way you make me feel safe when my hand is in yours.”  You brought your thumb up to wipe away a single tear that was sliding down his cheek, his eyes shining as he listened to your words.  “It has always been you, Chris.  It will always be you.”

He smiled then, that same blinding smile that had bound you to him from the day you met.  He kissed you again, then began moving his lips down the side of your neck, your head tilting back to allow him more skin.  His hand reached back and in a few quick motions the laces of your bodice were loose enough for your dress to fall off your shoulders.  He kissed downwards over your chest, and your breath hitched as the dress moved lower and lower, eventually dropping to the floor, leaving you almost bare for him.

Your hands came up to thread through his hair as you mocked, “You are entirely too clothed for my liking, Your Highness.”

At that, Chan whipped his shirt over his head, exposing his soft skin and toned abs, then pulled you to him, tone light but face serious. “I never want to have to hear you call me that ever again.”

“Chan,” you laughed, lightly smacking his chest, “what we’re doing right now is staying confined to this room; I’ll still have to call you that in front of everyone else.”

“Fine,” he all but growled, “I will settle for never hearing it in this room.  For now.”  His lips returned to pressing featherlight kisses to your jaw and found your sweet spot below your ear.  A sigh escaped your lips as Chan lifted you up and placed you under him on the bed, your hands roaming over his shoulders and back as he shed the rest of his clothes and removed the final layer separating you from him.  You could feel his hardness against your dripping core and you looked down, holding in a moan when you saw how big he was.

“Ah ah ah,” the prince purred, “I don’t want you to hold anything back tonight.  I have waited so long to have you like this, and I want to hear every sound that falls from your lips.  I want to know how good I make you feel, Y/n.”

Even if you’d wanted to, you couldn't hold back the sinful sound that left you as he brought his mouth to suckle and nip at your breast, his hand reaching down to rub the pads of his first two fingers against your heat.  Slowly, he increased the pace and the pressure as he kissed down your body, bringing his head between your thighs.  You moaned when you felt his tongue lick a long, languid stripe up your core, then brought your hands to tangle in his hair as he stroked small circles against your sensitive bud.  Desperate for him, you pulled his head back up to meet yours, back arching as you whimpered, “Please Chris.”

He lined himself up with your entrance and slowly pushed in, the feeling of him against your walls far better than you’d ever imagined.  Being this close to him, feeling his cock reach places inside you you hadn’t known could feel this good, the intimacy was almost overwhelming, so you clung to him, reveling in the feeling of being with the man you loved.

“How did I get so lucky?” Chan was whispering, praises falling from his lips.  “Fuck Y/n, you’re so beautiful, an angel, my perfect girl.  Taking me so well, like you were made for me.”

“I was,” you breathed out, “all of me is yours Chris, only yours.”

His thrusts increased then, both of you teetering on the edge of your highs.  You captured his lips in another burning kiss, sealing your love as the ecstasy coursed through you both.  You laid there for a few moments, relishing the weight of his body on yours and the quiet sound of his heartbeat.  Then Chan rose and fetched a cloth to clean you both, your body already starting to succumb to the pleasant exhaustion.

When he returned to the bed you heard his voice whisper one last I love you before you drifted off in his arms.

Runaway  |  Kingdom of Miroh, 28 years ago

The girl had been running for two days.

She’d prepared her knights and her attendant, told them the story she’d fabricated for them to repeat, and paid them handsomely for the trouble she was surely causing them.  Her parents would be frantic, but eventually they would mourn her and move on.  The kingdom would survive without her; in fact, it had to, because she knew nothing would ever make her return, force her to take on a responsibility she never asked for nor wanted.

Only five more miles to the border, she thought.  Then I can start over, be whoever I want to be.

By the time she reached the marker for Gu, she could barely stay upright, having taken as little rations with her as she dared.  She wandered across, hoping some small border town would be close by where she could eat, maybe get some rest.  After another few miles some buildings started to pop up, small cottages and what looked like a market and an inn.  The girl squinted at the prices on the inn’s sign, trying to remember the conversion rate of the currency she’d brought with her.

“Hey!  I saw you come in to town; you look a little lost.  Can I help you find anything?”

The girl realized the voice was talking to her, and turned to see a boy about her age, maybe seventeen, tall with shaggy brown hair, looking at her curiously.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” the boy said.  “It’s just… you seem to be having a little trouble reading the sign and I-I’m uhh... pretty good with numbers; I could help you, if you’d like?”

“Oh umm… yes… p-please… thank you.”

The boy walked closer, the girl showing him the money she had so he could count out the equivalent of the price.  “So, is your family visiting from Miroh?”

The girl balked at his perceptiveness.  Despite all her planning, she hadn’t thought about what she would tell anyone when they asked for her story.  She tried to come up with something quickly, stumbling over her words.  “Umm no, m-my parents are… they’re uhh… they died.”

“Oh, I-I’m sorry to hear that,” the boy said, looking at her sympathetically, and the girl felt like he really meant it.

“Well, umm, here’s what you’ll need for a night’s stay here,” he continued, handing her back the money.  “If you want I can show you a good place to eat that’s close by; you look like you could use a hearty meal.”

Despite knowing him for all of two minutes, the boy seemed trustworthy.  And he was right, she could definitely use some nourishment.

“That sounds nice,” she answered.

“Great!” the boy said, stepping down from the inn’s doorstep and walking towards the village center, the girl following.  “I’m Minhyuk, by the way.  What’s your name?”

“My name’s Julietta.”

Revelations  |  Kingdom of Gu, present day

You awoke, startling for a moment at the unfamiliar surroundings until you remembered what had happened the previous night.  Smiling to yourself, you turned in the sheets, expecting to see Chan laying beside you, but you were met with emptiness on his side of the bed.  You frowned, scooting over and feeling the spot still warm from his body.

He must have only just left, you thought.

You glanced over and noticed a small note sitting on his bedside table, letters written in his artful penmanship.  You picked it up, eyes running over the words.

Good morning my love.  How I wished to have you wake up in my arms, but I’ll only be gone for a few minutes.  I’ve gone to speak with my father about something, and when I return, the whole kingdom will be able to hear my name spoken by your beautiful voice. 

A wave of dread washed over your entire body, threatening to pin you to the spot where you sat.

Chan knew his father could be cold, knew he was a callous man who cared for little more than his own self-interest and what he deemed acceptable.  But you knew he’d always believed maybe he could change the king, could open his heart to the same degree Chan and his mother had shared.  You, however, never saw the man through such rose-colored glasses, having been the recipient of his threats and intimidation too many times to believe he could be redeemed.  And your beloved prince was about to find out the true depths of his father’s loathing towards the relationship you shared.

You sprung into action, body moving without thinking as you dressed in last night’s clothes and ran from his chambers, heading to the throne room.  Maybe you could reach him in time, spare him the pain of hearing his father’s rejection.  You’d have to convince him you didn’t want to bring your relationship public, and he’d be hurt, devastated, but it would be nothing compared to the anguish of what he was about to bring on himself.  Or the punishment he was about to unknowingly inflict on you.

Chan was nowhere to be seen in any of the hallways leading to the throne room.  Your feet moved faster, desperately trying to prevent what was about to happen.  But when you burst through the thick oak doors, you saw Chan kneeling at his father’s feet.  Both men looked up to face you, Chan’s expression one of blissful optimism, his father’s one of knowing anticipation.

You were too late.

“Hello, Y/n,” the king said darkly, mouth morphing into a sneer.  “You already know what he’s asked me, don’t you?”

“Your Majesty… please...”

You shuddered at the sound of your own voice, tone betraying your agony, your fear.

“You never told him, did you?” he questioned, the trace of pity in his voice making you all the more uneasy.

“How could I?” you sighed.

The king nodded contentedly, then motioned for the guards on either side of you.  You felt their hands capture your arms, body going all but slack in their hold.  You couldn’t find the strength to fight anymore.

Chan had stood up and was now looking frantically between you and his father.  “What is the meaning of this?!” he asked, tone laced with bewilderment and shock.

“I’m sorry Chris,” you murmured, heart breaking at the look on his face.

“Christopher,” King Bang said, standing and approaching his son, “do not fear.  I will take care of this disobedient whore and then you will be free of her influence.  I should have never let her remain for as long as I did, look what it has done to you, my ingenuous boy.”

You felt it, the moment Chan realized what his father was implying.  His whole body shifted, backing away from Geun as he spoke, voice void of emotion.

“What did you just say?”

For once the king seemed genuinely surprised, eyebrows raising and voice the tiniest bit unsteady as he answered, “I-I mean, certainly that’s the only reason you would ever come to me with this request.  Clearly this woman has convinced you to denounce what I’ve taught you about tradition, about knowing one’s place, through what means I dare not say; but I don’t blame you Chris, this is my fault.”

Chan stopped moving then, having almost reached your side.  His face contorted into an expression of dismay, of grief, as he shouted.

“Are you really so ignorant, so far removed from reality, that you think my actions are a sign of disloyalty?!  Of neglecting my responsibilities?!  Because they are nothing of the sort.  And even if they were, Y/n would not be responsible for convincing me to do anything.  Your outdated principles and misguided sense of your own virtuosity could have done that on their own!  You were blind to a plot happening in your own palace because of your desire to have me bend to your will, but I won’t let you do it anymore.”

He turned, ordering the guards, “Release her, now!”

“You will do no such thing,” the king’s enraged voice rang out.  “Christopher, you will never get my permission for this.”

He turned back to Geun, eyes furious but voice calm.

“I was not asking, father.  I will marry her.  And I am not betraying you, or our kingdom, or our traditions.  And I’m not doing it because she seduced me.  I’m doing this because I love her.  Because she supports me, and cares for me, and knows our people intimately, probably better than I do.  And because, for my whole life, she has been the only person besides Mother who has ever truly loved me for who I am.  So you’ll have to throw me in prison too if you intend to stop me, because I refuse to be here without her.”

“No!” you yelled, straining against your captors, energy rushing back to your body at his words.  “No, Chris please, you have to let me go!  I’m so grateful we had last night; it was the best night of my life and always will be.  I knew the consequences I might face, and getting to tell you how much I love you was worth every one, but you were never supposed to suffer because of me.  I can’t let you do this.”

Your pleas were interrupted by a herald entering the room.

“Your Majesty - “

‘WHAT?!” King Bang whirled on him, outrage blatantly evident on his face.

While the king was distracted, Chan shoved the guards away from you and took your shaking form into his arms, cradling your head against his chest.  “Y/n, you’ve protected me and sacrificed for me my entire life.  Let me be the one who takes care of you now.”

His whispers stopped when you heard the announcement of the herald.

“His Majesty King Peter Soleil of Miroh is here with his wife, Queen Margaery, as well as one of our palace servants, Julietta, Your Majesty.  They are insisting on an audience with you.”

“Your mother?” Chan questioned, meeting your equally confused face with his own.

The king glanced to where the pair of you stood, rolling his eyes obnoxiously.  “Fine, bring them in.  Let these two have their last embrace before I rid us of her presence.”

The herald opened the doors, and there stood your mother, dressed in a beautiful gown you could tell was made for royalty.  She entered, followed closely by the king and queen of Miroh.  You’d seen them a few times over the years at various palace functions.  They seemed like steadfast and benevolent leaders, reflected in their small kingdom’s reputation for nonviolence and generosity.  In fact, the only turmoil you could remember them being involved in was the disappearance of the crown princess, several years before you were even born.  Not much was known about the circumstances of the disappearance, but it was said the king and queen had never given up hope of finding her.

They came to a stop in the middle of the room, the sovereigns flanking your mother.  Looking at the three of them, you couldn’t deny the resemblance of your mother to the elder two people, and a memory stirred in the back of your mind.

“King Peter, Queen Margaery,” King Bang addressed them tersely, “I would say I am pleased to see you but I am at this moment engaged in a personal matter and would like very much to return to it.  If you could please explain why you have one of my palace servants here with you playing dress up, I would appreciate your cooperation.”

“Certainly,” came King Soleil’s placid reply.  “We are here on a personal matter as well, one that Julietta, and indeed Y/n, are involved in.”

Chan’s arms tensed around you, preparing to defend you against any allegation, any harm or threat or danger to your wellbeing.  But, as had happened once before in that very room, no one was prepared for what the Mirohan king said.

“You see, Julietta is our daughter.  Almost thirty years ago, she left our kingdom, because she felt trapped in a life we had not prepared her for.  Her mother and I should have supported her, should have taught her to confide in us, but we were very different people then, and different rulers too.  We would have done what you are attempting to do to your son, forced her to betray her own self to mold to our will.  However, when she left, we saw how wrong we were, and vowed to do better.  Now, Julietta has come back into our lives for the sake of her daughter, our granddaughter, Y/n.”

Every set of eyes in the room was trained on you, your own frozen wide in disbelief at what was happening.  King Bang seemed to be at a loss for words, having fallen back into his seat on the throne.  Your mother left her parents’ side and walked to you, smiling tentatively.  Chan reluctantly released his hold on you as she took your hand and brought you to stand with her away from the others.

“My dear, I know how much of a shock this must be to you, and I am sorry, so very truly sorry for never telling you,” she said quietly.  “But I was ashamed… When I ran away, I did what I thought I needed to do at the time.  Looking back it may have been reckless, irresponsible and selfish even.  But most importantly, it had been my choice.  And I took that from you, the ability to choose what path you wanted in life.  I thought we would be better off away from the life I grew up in, and for a while we were, with your father.  But when he died, I was adrift and had no idea what to do and somehow we ended up back in a palace and at the whim of an arrogant king, but this time without even an inkling of the power I once held.  I thought about returning with you to my parents then, but how could I be sure you wouldn’t resent me for forcing you into the life I had tried so desperately to escape?  I struggled with my choice for years, until eventually I saw that you were happy with your training with the prince, getting to do all the things you used to do with your father that would have been scorned had you been the one in the boy’s position.  But then I saw the signs of your feelings for him, your realization of the insurmountable barriers that would prevent you from being together, the way you resigned yourself to unhappiness.  I knew I could do something about it, but I had to be sure you were ready to accept the responsibilities that would come with having the ability to be with the man you loved.”

You looked up at her, recalling your conversation at the coronation, and she nodded.  “I am sure now.  Which is why I went back to Miroh, back to my parents and the position I despised a lifetime ago.  Because if I can give you the ability to make this one choice, maybe I can make up for all the other mistakes in my life.”

“Mother... “ you started, wanting to tell her you understood her choices, that you didn’t think they were all a mistake, but were quieted by her hand on your cheek.

“I know you are quick to forgive, just like your father, but let me take responsibility for this.”

You looked back at your grandparents.

“They won’t force you to accept,” Julietta said.  “That was my one condition.”

Your head was spinning with the onslaught of new information.  Searching the room, your gaze locked with Chan’s, reading the utter adoration in his eyes that you knew mirrored your own.  You knew his father would never accept your relationship at your current status.  And despite feeling confident you wanted a chance to make an impact as a ruler, you didn’t know everything about what it would mean to take on this responsibility.  But there was one thing you were absolutely certain of.

You turned back to your mother, squeezing her hand.  “Thank you.”

She led you back to the group, your hand linking with Chan’s as you came to stand beside him and your grandparents.

“We are aware of the young people’s affection for each other…” King Soleil began, but King Bang seemed to have recovered himself enough to realize what the other was about to say.

“That girl will NOT marry my son!”

“Geun,” your grandfather warned, “that girl is my granddaughter, a Mirohan princess.  I strongly suggest you watch your tone when you speak about her in front of me, or anywhere for that matter.  Now, it was already quite unreasonable to want to prevent your son from marrying a woman he loves, but it would be wholly irrational of you to deny a match for the prince to the heir apparent to the throne of Miroh, wouldn’t you say?”

You stood up straighter, feeling Chan’s hand tighten around yours.

The king was silent for a while, but finally gave an acquiescent sigh.  “Very well.”

The two of you smiled but kept your composure, bowing to the king and turning to your grandparents.  They pulled you both in for a hug as you thanked them, saying they were eager to get to know their new grandchildren, and your heart skipped a beat at those words.  You didn’t hear anything else after that, your focus entirely mesmerized by Chan who was pulling you towards the door, your pace quickening before breaking into a run as you left the castle, heading for the stables.  You rounded the building first, then felt him reach around your waist as he gathered you in his arms and spun you around, laughing his brilliant laugh and pulling you close to him as he placed you back on the ground by the pond.

“Does this mean I have to call you “Your Highness” now?” he asked, giggling at your stunned face from the use of the term.

You playfully put your hands up to shove him, but he captured them in his own, kissing your knuckles and bringing your palms to rest on his chest.  You could feel his heart beating as you knelt your head to meet his and heard his soft voice ask.

“Y/n, will you marry me?”

You had never been happier to say yes.

Epilogue  |  Kingdom of Gu, 1 year later

You were standing in front of the mirror, your mother behind you pinning your hair into an extravagant twist when a joking voice came from the door.

“I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”  You turned to see the smiling face of the queen of Lajor.

“Korenna!” you exclaimed, dancing happily in place, too afraid to move while your mother continued her styling as your friend came to sit next to you.

“You look stunning, Y/n, truly.  Chris is going to lose it when he sees you.”

Chris, your mind echoed lovingly.  You’re marrying Chris today.

“And how come I don’t get a hello from my favorite little princess?” you teased.

“Paige is a bit preoccupied practicing her petal tossing abilities with her Uncle Felix,” her sister responded.  “She definitely has the upper hand in technique, but I’m not sure who looked cuter in the flower crown.”

“Speaking of flower crowns,” your mother said, turning you to face her, “Chris left this for you.”

You looked down at her hands where she held a sealed letter, on top of which rested a single wildflower.

Your mother saw the tears prick in your eyes and started to gather up her things, motioning to Korenna.  “Let’s give Y/n a moment before the ceremony while we - Oh! Your Majesty, my apologies, I didn’t see you there.”

You turned to see King Bang milling awkwardly at the entrance of the room.  Putting the gift from Chan down, you ushered your mother and Korenna out then came to sit in front of his father.

The two of you had avoided each other as much as possible over the last year, which hadn’t exactly been hard since you had moved with your mother to Miroh to catch up on all the instruction you’d missed these past twenty-three years.  You’d seen him at the Four Kingdom Competition and at various dinners and balls, but Chan always made it a point to keep you as far away from him as possible.  You weren’t going to complain about it to your fiance, but you’d almost wished he’d let the two of you talk, tension clearly still lingering between you.  And though this visit was unexpected, considering you were going to be family after today, now seemed just as good a time as any.

“What can I do for you, Your Majesty?”

“Actually, Y/n, I-I came here to apologize,” the king said, his voice sounding almost as taken aback as you felt.  “I have spent my whole life avoiding saying that phrase, but I realize now you are one of the few people I feel I really must say it to.”  He took a deep breath before he continued.  “I’m sorry for the death of your father, I’m sorry for my insults and threats over the years, and I’m sorry for trying to keep you and Christopher from being together.  I had no right to try to do that, whether you were noble-born or not.”  He paused, and you could tell it was getting harder for him to keep his voice steady.  “After my wife died… I had this blind rage I felt towards everyone, but especially towards you, and when I finally took the time to analyze it, I realized I had been jealous.  Jealous of your skill and your talent, but mostly jealous of my son’s devotion to you.  This year has shown me that I was wrong to think his love for you would turn him away from me or his responsibilities; in fact, his happiness at being with you has only strengthened our relationship and made him a more present, more thoughtful ruler.  So I came to apologize, and to thank you for bringing the light back to my son’s eyes.”

You were stunned, but grateful, and the king seemed to read that in the expression on your face.  “You don’t need to say anything,” he said, standing up and heading for the door, “I just wanted you to know.”

You stopped him before he could leave, placing a hand on his arm.  “Thank you.”

He nodded and shut the door, leaving you alone.  You turned your attention back to the envelope on the desk and gently opened it, unfolding the paper in one hand and holding the blossom in the other.

Y/n,

Since the beginning, my love for you has grown like the roots of a flower.  Even on this day, we are but tiny buds, only just beginning to sprout.  I look forward to every day we’ll spend in the garden, tending to our love until we reach full bloom.  And just as flowers slowly fade, may we grow old together, enjoying the memories of those sunny days when we used to ride through the meadows we planted.  Know that my love for you will remain long after our petals are reclaimed by the earth, my beautiful wildflower.

Yours forever,

Chris

You held back the tears threatening to spill down your cheeks, placed the flower in your hair behind your ear with trembling hands, and walked out to meet your mother standing at the entrance to the courtyard.

She took your arm in hers as you made your way to the aisle.  You saw Minho and Felix on the right, both grinning from ear to ear, and Korenna and Paige on the left, the younger’s sparkling dress and tiny braid matching the elder’s.  And in the center you saw Chan, looking to be on the verge of tears, but his blinding smile on full display.  Your mother walked you to him, your gown glinting in the light of the setting sun.  He took your hand in his and held it while the priest recited the hymns and blessed your marriage, pronouncing you husband and wife.

Later, while the celebration was in full swing inside the ballroom, the two of you made your way out to the balcony.  He took you into his arms, both of you swaying to the music floating out on the breeze.

“You look breathtaking tonight,” Chan whispered.

“You told me that earlier, Your Highness,” you responded, wiggling your eyebrows at the term he used to hate, recalling the conversation you’d had the first time you shared a dance on the balcony.

“I know,” he said smiling, catching on to your words.  “I wanted to tell you again.”

You pulled his lips to yours, kissing him before whispering, “We’re married.”

“I know that too,” he responded, the two of you giggling and bringing your foreheads together.  He reached up to tuck your hair that had come loose behind your ear, revealing the flower, and you let the feeling of peace wash over you, knowing you had a lifetime together.

“I love you, Chris.”

“I love you too, Y/n.”

{end}

[spiltscribbles]

Ahh I've always wanted to send a prompt. How about “Whoa. Easy, easy. I’ve got you.” with some sleep intimacy. Can I just say I love you and your writing.

~Notes: 😭😭 OH KY GOD SUGAR!!! You are so beyond adorable! I love you to pieces! And I do not deserve such kindness💜😘😘 So I at first read this as sleek Becs i am an idiot... so honestly this is 4700 words of pure smut😳😌😌 but uts early morning so it’s stilly sleepy intimacy kvdjhj Thank you for the prompt! But if smut isn’t your jam plz lmk and I’ll write you something else😣😣😘💜

.-

Send Me A Prompt  |   A Reblog Is Like A Huge  

.-

If asked to choose his favorite feature of Remus’s, Sirius reckons he’d have a difficult time with it, like to a ridiculous degree. It could easily be the dimple that shows up right on the apple of his cheek when he sports that glowing, reluctantly amused smile that only appears after Sirius or James have hexed a Slytherin prat right in front of him, and not even his Prefect sensibilities prove strong enough to scold them for it. Or maybe it’s the splatter of freckles that dance on the tops of his shoulders and the bridge of his nose right after summer hols, and he looks gloriously golden and it’s all Sirius can do not to kiss each one right in front of all the wizards congregated in nine and three quarters. Or maybe it’s simply the way he gnaws on his bottom lip whenever he’s thinking particularly hard on a subject— a habit usually reserved for potions lessons and when it’s a late night in the library and they’re both tucked away in a dark nook and Sirius has pushed Remus up against a bookshelf while stroking him in his trousers with intense precision. One corner of his mouth curled in challenge, dipping down to lick at that hollow on Remus’s long neck, tacitly reminding him that he best keep quiet lest Madam Pince has their heads on a couple of stakes she surely keeps beneath her desk for opportunities just like this.

Alright, if Sirius is being at all honest, it’s a frequently alternating list of all of Remus’s most splendid attributes, but at the moment, Sirius thinks there’s no question that in fact it’s Remus’s eyes that can ruin him with just a glance. His eyes that are a deep, vibrant green with flecks of amber that dance in their depths. Eyes that look like September, like the very start of their school term. Eyes that make Sirius think of the forest where Padfoot and Moony roam. Eyes that make Sirius think of fire lit common rooms and the taste of butterscotch on Remus’s lips, and such an overwhelming sensation of adoration that it could very well suffocate him if Sirius isn’t careful. It’s such a contrary color from the crisp and cool shades of emerald that accent the regality of 12 Grimmauld Place. Remus’s eyes are something warm and wonderful and where Sirius would gladly choose to get lost inside of for the next eon to come— Most especially if it���s a moment like this, with one of his hands knotted in Remus’s hair while the other one is busy thumbing small circles into his bare stomach. Where Remus is enthusiastically kissing Sirius back— fervent and famished and so fucking gorgeous— His arms loosely tangled around Sirius’s neck from where he’s lying beneath him, long legs bracketed on either side of Sirius’s narrow waist, and yeah, Sirius has always had three inches and two stone on Remus, but he often forgets that Remus’s lithe stature isn’t just for show— he’s got discrete strength beyond a normal wizard, and he chooses to fall under Sirius. Chooses Sirius who’s all hard edges and marble planes. He chooses Sirius simply on the merit that he’s him, and they’ve always been at least somewhat drawn to one another, even before either one of them really knew what it meant.

Sirius inwardly preens, presses more forcefully down against Remus and revels in the slight whimper Remus lets out just then, hands grappling Sirius’s broad shoulders just that bit tighter, keeping him close just that bit more desperately.

It’s remarkable.

The dormitory’s blessedly quiet this Saturday morning— James is off being a ponce on the quidditch field in preparations for their match against Slytherin in a couple weeks— the final one before they graduate and leave Hogwarts’ hallowed halls for the final time— And Peter had kindly buggered off after some not particularly well veiled threats waged by Sirius so he could get some alone time with his sodding boyfriend for Merlin’s sake. They have all morning to stay like this. Sirius can spend hours on end watching as the early light unspools in Remus’s hair— lacing into his curls and turning them a lovely tawny color— and he gets to revel in how Remus’s breath quickens every time Sirius bucks down and rubs their barely clad, already hard cocks against one another. And Sirius can whisper sweet nothings into Remus’s still sleep supple skin— sometimes filthy, and occasionally wicked, and always exultant— letting himself drown into the sounds that Remus moans out in turn, poetry if anyone were to ask him. And they don’t have to worry about nosey roommates or trying to keep quiet or staying inconspicuous from prying eyes that threaten to snatch this snapshot of bliss away from him.

If Sirius could stay in the slice of eternity for the rest of their days and beyond, he’d choose it every single time. And maybe that could be their future, their life after Hogwarts— far away from this looming war beginning to ravage their world as they know it, and divorced from the whispers of the Order that Dumbledore has created to fight against those barmy, blood crazed lunatics.

A future that’s normal and safe and glittering like the silvery film around their patronuses.

Remus would probably get a Muggle job, maybe in a University of some sort. Sirius always thought he’d make such a brilliant professor, make all the school kids mad with how he’s so brilliant and beautiful and compassionate. Sirius and James already know that they’ll both end up in the Ministry as Aurors, because of course that’s the job for a couple of dashing young lads such as themselves. He supposes by then Evans will have been convinced to stop the on again, off again nature of her relationship with dear Prongsie, but he knows that even if not she and Remus are as thick s thieves, she’ll never just let him get away from her friendship after graduation. So maybe she’ll come visit in their flat after her internship at St Mungo’s, and of course Pete is always terrified that if he doesn’t spend every waking minute with at least one of them that he’ll be forgotten, so he’d be there too. The five of them, bombastic and bright and babbling on a lazy weeknight with glasses of fire-whiskey and plates of take out and Remus perched securely into Sirius’s embrace, and everything being just as it should be. Something golden, something wonderful, something splendid.

But as he begins to nip at that point against Remus’s sharp collarbone that’s become his favorite through the duration of their nearly year and a half of dating, he wonders not for the first time if Remus has the same prospects— if he wants to spend countless mornings just like this and endless nights in a similar way, if he wants to pick up Sirius’s discarded socks and eat the dinners Sirius makes for them, if he wants to tumble so thoroughly with Sirius that they don’t even know where one begins and the other ends anymore. Sirius wonders if he wants any of that, or if Remus is planning to go back to Wales with his parents instead of taking up Sirius’s casually thrown around offers for him to stay in the London flat that Alphard had left Sirius along with the gold and the watch and all the expectations of doing better than the Black name has always meant.

And the possibility of that— the possibility of Remus not dreaming of the same forever as him— cuts Sirius to the quick, and he doesn’t let himself think about it, instead sits up on his forearms, so that he’s peering down at Remus now, and he cups the length of him over the cotton, squeezing to hear the melody of Remus’s gasp and grounds himself into the moment once more.

“You’re in a mood this morning,” Remus intones, more than a bit breathily while Sirius moves his hand to push beneath Remus’s pants from behind, cupping one of his cheeks for a good and proper squeeze.

“Mmm, careful, or else I’d think you don’t like this method of being woken up,” Sirius counters, feels himself preen at how Remus’s face dusts scarlet, though it doesn’t last long when Remus retaliates by tugging at his hair, beyond mulish looking at Sirius’s glee.

“You know, I do have to do some more research on that final paper for charms that Flitwick gave us,” he muses— the unrepentant tease.

“Are you sure of that,” Sirius asks, dipping back down to worry the skin of Remus’s earlobe between his teeth, while the pads of his fingers make a pedal soft trail to the cress of his arse, lighter than breath while he circles the small, tight entrance of him— just grazing around the hole with languid intent, occasionally dragging over the opening with a dry finger, never delving any deeper than that. And it gets it’s intended effect— namely, the balls of Remus’s heels pressing up against Sirius’s back, and him gasping out these guttural, maddening mewls as he tries to buck down, tries to finally get some penetration.

“Merlin, are you going to just tease me till those wankers get back, or will you finally fucking do something, Black.”

“I think I like keeping you on the edge, sweetheart.” Sirius retorts, punctuating the point with a small wiggle of the top of his pointer finger, the one now comfortably nestled inside of him.

“Absolute prat,” Remus fumes, though when he begins to try moving once more, Sirius stunts the action by lying his forearm against hiss lightly muscled stomach, pressing most of his weight there while he gives one final, goading push with his finger and drags his hand to instead rub against the expanse of Remus’s pale, thin thigh, wants to lap at the skin there but also doesn’t want Remus to win this little battle he’s waged— not yet at least.

“Well Maybe if you ask nicely?”

The twist of Remus’s features tells Sirius that he’s absolutely fuming, but also he won’t leave because he’s gagging for it just as much as him. “You’re the dog, if you don’t recall. Maybe I should make you beg to hump even my leg.”

“No need for such a wicked tongue, Moons,” Sirius sneers, hitches Remus’s legs higher on his waistline so that the head of his cock can graze at the concealed hole. “Just a please would suffice.”

Remus scoffs. “You’re mad.”

“I’m also very patient,” Sirius leers, begins thrusting only slightly, nudging at him and delighting in the flicker of emotions that flashes over Remus’s face— going from indignant to wanting to abashed and landing on a cool sort of resolve.

“Oi, if you’re all talk, I’m sure I can poke around in the library, see if Leon is still—“ The rest of Remus’s sentence is swallowed up by the frenzy of movement that clashes inharmoniously from one moment to the next. And suddenly Remus is lying flat on his front, with one of Sirius’s legs pressed unswervingly between his legs, an accioed bottle of lube in one of his hands while the other nearly tears Remus’s pants trying to drag them off.

“You’re such a little arse, Lupin.” He hisses, tossing the garnet to the side along with his own before he begins palming his prick with the Muggle lotion type substance Remus had brought along from after easter hols, when they had visited that brilliant little shop in Soho— and Sirius isn’t sure if he should be proud or simply smug at how it’s already emptied by half.

“You like how little my arse is, Black,” Remus retorts from where his head is now squeezed partially onto his pillow, punctuating the point with a small shake of his bum.

“Right, so that means I’d rather not think of the other plonkers who’ve seen it before I got my hands all over you,” Sirius snaps, not actually irritated— even if he hates the sight of Leon sodding Bennett more than anything else.

“It was just a joke,” Remus tells him, soft and sincere and away from that playful tone he was using from before.

“Yeah, you better have been,” Sirius says, but then dips down to kiss between Remus’s shoulder blades— to the left of where he’s got a hand spread across his back— just to assure him that he’s not actually upset.

“You’re brilliant you know. The best in every way, I hope you understand that,” Remus tells him, a bit quieter and a bit more reserved, in a voice that wavers only slightly with the nerves of the admission. “I’ve only ever been in love with you— And I know that it’s probably not the same, I know that you’ve had others and we’re only eighteen and—“

Sirius cuts him off with one single, quick smack against the width of his arse— an arse he can probably write a thousand sonnets and a million more odes about— and he returns to kneading at the muscle there. “Don’t be an idiot, Remus. You know I love you like mad, more than anything— you’re everything.”

“Oh. Oh, that’s good— Erm, I mean—“ Sirius can only see half of Remus’s face from this angle, and most of it is obscured by his curly fringe, but he can detect the pinkish flush feathering over his sharp cheekbone and the way he’s begun to gnaw on the end of his mouth, eyes half lit and hooded. And God, sometimes Sirius thinks that it’s the blind leading the blind with them as they dance along this precipice of the most precious thing either of them has ever held in their quivering grasps.

“Right convenient if you ask me,” Sirius says instead of something from the stream of soppy poetry he’s thinking about— the love sick lyrics dedicated to Remus and Remus alone. He doesn’t want to potentially fracture this single understanding that they’ve finally revealed to one another. Rather, Sirius scrapes another chunk of the slick, Muggle substance into his hand and cloaks himself completely before taking a bit of it against Remus’s arsehole, his insides melting like molasses once he feels the warmth of Remus cloaking him, the way Remus’s entrance is practically fluttering, practically trying to swallow Sirius whole.

“Oh, yeah— Just a bit more.”

“Shh, let me take care of you, Moony,” Sirius reproves with absolutely no heat, instead sounding more than a little horse as he adds another digit and watches as Remus expands beneath his touch, watches his long fingers being devoured by him— the bronze tan Sirius always sports during the warmer months melding into the pale patches of Remus that rarely sees sunlight— watches their jagged edges piecing together like a sacred tomb, and Sirius knows right then and there that he’d want to be lost in every facet of Remus for every eon to come, even when they’re nothing but cinders and ashes and wisps of starlight. He’d want this, he’d crave this. He’d always need this, need Remus in any way he’d take him.

“Oh— Sirius, please, right there.” Remus suddenly squawks, jolting forwards and grappling for either end of his fourposter’s wooden bars. “Pl— Please.”

Always beyond eager to watch his lover come undone, Sirius adds one final finger before crooking them inside of Remus, skimming the little nest of nerves found there, and repeating the action twice more before he hears Remus’s choked off demand, “Bloody hell, Sirius! Will you just give me what I want!”

“I thought you’d never ask, sweetheart.” Sirius absolutely beams, gingerly pulling out from his gaping and empty entrance so to lather himself one final time, kisses the freckle behind Remus’s left ear as he snakes a hand beneath his stomach to raise him up slightly. “Can you stay like this, baby.”

His arms still slightly shaking from when Sirius had been teasing his prostate, Remus nods resolutely, shuffling around so that he’s resting his chin on his forearms, and his back is arched so beautifully with his pert arse stretched back in an inviting fashion. “You just worry about making this last hour worth my time.”

Sirius sniffs, pats Remus’s behind with a tad bit more intensity than strictly needed. “You and that lip is gonna get the best of you one of these days, Moony.”

“Mmm, I’ll believe it when you actually begin proving as much,” Remus barbs, and God Sirius loves him so fucking much— feels his chest absolutely contract with the ferocity of it.

“Right, well, you just sit there, looking pretty. All right?” Sirius intones, cards a hand through Remus’s hair and tugs just slightly before letting go completely to adjust his position from behind him— both hands on either end of Remus’s waistline and his dick poking at his hole— and God the throbbing is becoming painful with how badly Sirius just wants to plunge inside, to fuck and pound and thrust into Remus until he hears his boyfriend— his partner— absolutely sing with pleasure. “You are beautiful, Remus, you know that, right? Know that I think you’re the most bloody gorgeous creature I’ve ever seen, that the scars just show how otherworldly you are?” Sirius emphasizes that final point by thumbing across the one skirting across the the side of his neck, stretching from the bottom of his ear and ending at the point of his collarbone. It’s the most prominent one, the only scar besides a scratch on his pinky that can’t be covered up by a trusty jumper or pair of corduroys. The one Remus is most sensitive about, and the one he probably hates nearly as much as the bite marring his inner thigh.

“Sirius, please. Just not now,” Remus implores, sounding like a blown out candle all of a sudden, and Sirius can’t have that. Doesn’t want him to feel anything close to shitty while they’re doing this, while he has him this way. So with an obedience he only has if Remus asks him for as much in his more cautious of cadences, Sirius clenches his jaw, and keeps the adoring words stuck to his teeth, and he distracts himself by finally moving forwards, and it’s like a blink of the eye wen suddenly everything around him goes hazy, feeling like a disillusionment charm has been cast with how everything feels intangible, floaty, feels unsubstantial in comparison to the hot, tight pressure of Remus wrapped around him, made all the more etherial by the sounds of Remus’s melodic moans and gorgeous gasps and the way he moves in tandem with Sirius, how he cants back to meet the electrical current of Sirius fucking into him.

And he isn’t sure who says what in the gargle of words being spilt between them, is pretty sure he’s saying something about how beautiful Remus always is for him and then Remus replying with something about Sirius giving more to him, giving him something harder, deeper, quicker, and then, somehow, Sirius has got both of remus’s wrists in his hand and he’s pressing them against the small of Remus’s back, and he’s slowing down, suddenly wants this to last so much longer, wants to keep Remus this pliant and open and uninhibited for him for just that bit more.

“Merlin, I love you,” he says, focussing on the sweat collecting into the divot of Remus’s pinched shoulder blades and leans down to lick over the spot. “So fucking much.”

“Me too, Sirius! Sirius, I love you too! Please don’t stop, please.” Remus begs, canting back and twitching his fingers, obviously needing some sort of friction, though Sirius doesn’t think he’ll give it to him quite yet.

“What if I do though?” He asks, affecting an innocent tone while he slowly pulls out of Remus, pushing inside with shallow thrusts now, giving him hardly more than his tip. “What if I keep you like this, wait to see how long it takes you to come off of this alone, untouched. Just by my cock teasing you like this?” Remus makes another, strangled sort of noise deep in his throat, and he shutters in a way that convinces Sirius he’s not completely opposed to the offer. “You’d like that, yeah? You’d like me holding you down like this and watching you absolutely go feral? Go unraveled beneath me? Hell, I bet you wouldn’t even mind if I kept you like this for the rest of the morning. If I fucked you stupid and didn’t let you come even then. Just plug you up with that naughty toy we got from that Muggle shop when you visited me over Easter in London. Trap my spunk inside and just keep you nice and open until I decide to give it to you once again— drag you to a bathroom stall or an empty cupboard and fuck you senseless. Bloody hell, Remus, you probably wouldn’t even last a minute, hmm?”

Remus stays quiet, doesn’t unclench that taught muscle in his jaw, but his pupils are blown and he’s completely flushed, and Sirius is so thankful he can read the smallest nuances of him, loves knowing how absolutely wrecked just the idea of that has gotten his beautiful Moony, the side of him that no one else could ever see. The side of him hidden by his aloof exterior and measured words when around others. No one else gets to see this hauntingly beautiful, desperate little thing he becomes under Sirius’s hand, how he’s strung to vivid colors by Sirius mumbling such wicked contemplations into the expanse of his warm, golden skin.

“Are you going to answer, love,” he asks, with a lecherous sort of grin, pounding into him with a lack of delicateness from before, only twice, only enough to get Remus writhing again. “Do you not want that?”

Remus squeaks as the top of his head grazes against the headboard from the impact, and he has to squeeze his eyes shut while his thin lips fall open. “I reckon— Erm, I reckon that would be all right. Just to try.”

“My lovely academic, has to give everything a go,” Sirius crows, returns to thrusting measuredly in and out of him, kisses the nape of his neck with soft reverence. “But you know, we wouldn’t have to sneak around like that in only a couple weeks. We’ll be graduated,” he twists his hips slightly and presses down a bit more viciously than the slow paces probably would’ve entailed, and Remus quite literally groans at the feeling of it. “I’ll have that bloody huge flat, and you could be there too. We could spend every morning like this, Moony my love. We could christen every sodding room on the first day alone, and then I’d make you some of that veggie curry you like and you can sit there with an ice pack on your bum after I’m done with you.”

“Oh— Hah, you think you’ve got that sort of stamina,” is all Remus manages out in response, his features going tight with hunger when Sirius retorts with a staccato of uneven thrusts inside of him, stopping only when he feels the release willing up his own body, doesn’t think he’s ready to end this conversation quite yet.

“With you in one of my T-shirts and nothing else?” Sirius asks, watches the way Remus’s toes quite literally curl when he slides inside his used hole once more, shaking Remus slightly with how he moves and thrusts and squeezes his wrists hard enough to bruise. “I bet I could get it up an infinite amount of times! THere will be studies invoked for the phenomena of my cock, Moony. Potions inspired that’d never work, because they could never get it right when I tell them it’s the sight of you waiting for me looking wide eyed and teasing— waiting to be debauched— that’s got me so erect. I’ll be a household name, you watch.”

“You— Oh, oh. Yes like that please Sirius just a little more— Hah, you’re a madman.”

Sirius leers, does as told and grabs forcefully against Remus’s biceps and pounds him flat on the mattress, fucking into him and thrills with all the different noises he’s dragging out of Remus, the way he can’t even form words amidst his groan. “Then you best stay with me, who knows what a madman could do all on his lonesome.”

Just because he’s always been a bit sadistic, Sirius stops his graceless rutting, lies nearly entirely against Remus instead, tugging on the back of his curls so that he’s got a better view of Remus’s gaze. “Wha— Oh, yes, fuck yes you plonker. Of course I want to move in with you, just wanted you to ask properly instead of beating round the bloody bush!”

Sirius feels his brows hike up, absolutely gleeful. “You wanton little slag, you just wanted me to use my manners, eh?”

Remus huffs, looking beyond grouchy. “Yes, yes, and obviously, like the contrary bastard you are, you decide to actually do as much when I’d rather you be beating inside of me., but thus is my fate being stuck in love with such a wanker.”

Sirius can’t help but cackle at the incredibly cross expression Remus has got painted over his features, and he pecks a path down his temple and down to the dip of his shoulder muscles in apology. “You know I’m not one for subtleties, Moony.”

“Humph, well how’s this for subtle. Will you just ruddy fuck me and keep this discussion on the back burner for afterwards?”

Always eager to please his boyfriend, Sirius gently presses him back down on the sheets and rises only enough so to continue the easy rhythm between them, only increased by one of his hands circling Remus’s blazingly scarlet cock, pushing him through the loop of his fingers every time Sirius rocks harshly into him, going speedier and speedier with every choked out plea coming from Remus.

“What about this for a wanker?” He asks snidely, snapping forwards especially roughly, and twisting remus’s prick only slightly in turn, knows how much he enjoys the contrast of that.

“Yes— Yes, yes, yes Sirius! Just keep going, please, love, please. God, I love you. Holy fuck.” 

And it’s not another thrust inside before Remus is spilling into Sirius’s palm and the contracted muscle pumps the orgasm out of Sirius himself.

“Fuck, you’re amazing,” Sirius groans in a voice that’s nearly completely faded, and totally pious, careful to move outside Remus’s overly sensitive hole, and still panting while he absentmindedly grabs for a spare vest. He mutters a labored aguamenti before he brings it to Remus’s behind and begins to dab gently at the skin there, smattered with lube and Sirius’s come and a good amount of wetness from his sweat.

“Oh,” Remus shakes, sucking in a breath and tensing at the sensation of the intrusion.

“Whoa. Easy, easy. I’ve got you,” Sirius assures him gingerly, tossing it to the corner when he’s finished, and can’t help but kiss the small dimples found right against the skin that cups over his arse.

“The, mmm. The house elves, Sirius. They don’t deserve that to deal with.”

Sirius only barely manages to hold back the roll of his eyes at Remus’s tendency not to understand how much those buggers enjoy any and all cleaning. Merlin, leave it too Moony to feel bad about something that someone wants to do for him. “I’ll grab it later, promise. Bin it o whatever.”

Remus only replies with a soft sound of consent, letting himself be gathered into Sirius’s arms properly, his head cradled against Sirius’s chest and Sirius’s arms wrapped around him while he kisses the crown of his tawny curls.

“You want a kip then?” Sirius asks amusedly, feeling his own eyelids beginning to droop.

“Hmm, yeah. That’d be nice. Then we can talk about that hideously orange breakfast table you’ve got in the flat. I bloody well won’t be living in any proximity of that monstrosity, Padfoot.”

Sirius can’t help the laughter that spills out, and he agrees to the conversation but demands that Remus call Winifred by name, lest she gets her feelings hurt.

“Madman,” Remus reiterates, completely fond as he dozes off, and when Sirius feels the breaths falling out of Remus’s lips even out, he thinks that them nestled into one another like this might be the only salvation he ever wants to know, the only sensation he could ever crave— The only sunlit snapshot he ever needs for the rest of his days.